Thirds: Inked 2

by SE Jakes

  Brogan laughed. "Trust me, it wasn't easy. I can't tell you the amount of times my buddies would drag me along with them to tattoo parlors. In the end, I just sat there and watched them make bad choices."

  "You don't have anything you want badly enough to be permanent," Aleks mused. He hadn't meant it as an indictment, but judging by the look on Brogan's face, he'd taken that very personally. And not well.

  "Just because I don't want to ink up my body doesn't mean I don't have permanent beliefs," Brogan started.

  "Hey, Brogan—I didn't mean—"

  "Then what the fuck did you mean, Aleks? Because I'm betting, out of the two of us, I'm not the one with the commitment issues."

  Ouch. Okay, then… "You're right, I'm sure. I've never really thought about commitment because I never met anyone I wanted to be committed to."

  "Never?" Brogan asked.

  "I'm only twenty-six, so don't act like that's so crazy," Aleks pointed out. "One thing I can say is that military guys are really fucking self-righteous."

  Brogan raised his brows at that…but he didn't argue. "So, this conversation went downhill fast."

  "Better off with sex and not talking," Aleks said. But suddenly, he didn't feel like much of either. Instead, he had a pit in his stomach, from thinking about Peter and his past and tattooing. It was all too fucking much, and truthfully, he was surprised he hadn't had a reaction like this earlier. Spending time with Brogan should've made him feel like a traitor. It hadn't…until now. "I think I should go."

  Brogan rolled onto his back. "Yeah, maybe you should."

  Aleks didn't need to hear it twice.

  Chapter Eleven

  Aleks didn't sleep much that night. He suspected Brogan didn't either but they were both too stubborn to do anything about it.

  The next morning, he had an early appointment so he opened the shop, and it was just him and his client—another veteran who was letting Aleks build him a full backpiece. It was intricate and time-consuming and just the kind of work Aleks needed to take his mind off everything else.

  After his client left, he headed to the diner for a quick bite. To his non-surprise, Con settled in across from him a few minutes after he'd ordered.

  "How're things?" Con asked, and Aleks was too tired to lie.

  "We keep fighting."

  Con rolled his eyes. "Well yes, I'd expect that. It's your fault."

  "How do you know it's my fault?" Aleks demanded.

  "Because you're riding a goddamned fine line here. You've got guilt about Brogan but you can't quit him." Con shook his head. "I'm not judging, man, but this is only going to get more difficult."

  Aleks finished with work, grabbed his gym bag and took his bike over to Brogan's gym. It was Monday, so the place was shuttered and dark…but not for long.

  He got off his bike and dialed Brogan as he walked around toward the back entrance. When Brogan answered with a curt, "What?" Aleks told him, "I need to go to the gym."

  Brogan paused and then spat out. "So go to one."

  Still pissed. Aleks sighed. "I want to go to yours."

  "It's Monday. We're closed."

  "I guess I'll have to change that." Aleks hung up as Brogan said "Aleks," in a warning, frustrated tone.

  Good. That made two of them. And Aleks had never met a door—or an alarm system—he didn't like. This one was ridiculously simple, especially with the skeleton key Aleks had acquired and kept on his person all the damned time. No one was going to lock him up without a way to escape ever again if he could help it.

  His cell flashed in front of his eyes and he pressed his forehead to the cold back door. No triggers. Not now.

  He took several deep breaths. It didn't matter if he screwed his eyes shut or kept them open—the images kept coming. Him in the cell. Him fighting.

  Him killing…

  "Fuck," he muttered. "Can't."

  Things got worse and he felt his knees give out. Fuck. He held on to the door, fingers scrabbling for something to hold…and then someone was holding him—holding him up with a firm, steady grasp.

  "Brogan—"

  "Hush." Brogan wrapped a strong arm around him, pressed Aleks's back to his chest and reached past him with the key.

  "It's open."

  Brogan stared at him hard and then tried the knob. "I suppose you know the code?"

  Aleks didn't say anything, let Brogan tug him inside as Brogan hit the buttons to stop the alarm buzzing.

  Then he shut the door and maneuvered Aleks against it. "You okay?"

  "I am now."

  "God, could you come up with a cheesier line?" Brogan muttered, but he looked pleased, despite himself.

  "Give me some time." Aleks stared at him and the images of the cages mercifully faded away. "You're too fucking sensitive."

  "I'm too sensitive?"

  "A guilty conscience always jumps."

  "Are you trying to start another fight?" Brogan demanded.

  Was he? He still wasn't himself—he was shaky, his pulse pounded and his head ached. Part of him just wanted to run, but he wanted Brogan to not let him.

  And yes, Con had been right. About everything. I'll figure it out, he promised himself. "I came here to fight, but not like that."

  "Let me help." He untucked Aleks's shirt and pulled it over his head. Aleks stared at him, unsure…and not minding it.

  Brogan ran a single finger along his chin and down his throat, lingering on his Adam's apple and then again at the hollow where throat met collarbone. Aleks put his head back, baring his throat in a show of submission, knowing exactly what Brogan wanted from him now.

  He could kill me now, but he won't.

  Aleks knew it with a certainty that made everything come into sharper focus. He let Brogan tug him with a couple of fingers hooked in the front of his jeans. They walked through the darkened gym, with Brogan turning on a couple of lights but not all, and got them onto the mat.

  Aleks slid under the ropes and stayed with his back on the mat. Brogan nodded, leaned over him, put his mouth along Aleks's collarbone and sucked a path along his chest, leaving red, swollen markings, teeth marks, a wet trail all the way down Aleks's belly.

  Brutal. Motherfucking brutal, and Aleks loved every second of it. By the time Brogan got to his cock, Aleks was straining upward.

  "Still," Brogan commanded, and even though Aleks bared his teeth and growled at him, this was the only place and the only time he'd obey. And finally, Brogan sat up and told Aleks to "Roll over." Aleks obliged and Brogan murmured, "Gonna ride you like a horse."

  "Any way you want as long as you hurry up and fuck me," Aleks growled, throwing an intense stare over his shoulder.

  "Impatient."

  "Have we met? Yes, very."

  Brogan slapped his ass—once, then twice, nice and hard and Aleks let out a groan and hung his head. "We've met. You think you'll get away with the crap you pulled tonight?"

  "Yes," Aleks gasped as Brogan entered him, sliding steadily to the hilt without stopping.

  "Keep dreaming." He leaned over and bit the back of Aleks's neck, holding him in place like a wild horse might, while remaining deep inside him, shifting just enough to hit Aleks's prostate and drive him crazy.

  Brogan pressed his face to Aleks’s shoulder as Brogan manipulated him, pushing his own hips up to drive more deeply inside.

  "Good, Aleks…good boy."

  "Harder, daddy," Aleks murmured and that made Brogan ultimately lose it. He slammed up into Aleks, which caused Aleks to come immediately, yelling Brogan's name and coming all over his chest and the mat below. "Fucking trying to kill me."

  "Your fault with the daddy shit," Brogan groaned.

  "I'll take full responsibility. Told you that you had a daddy kink."

  "I have the daddy kink? Rethink yourself, boy."

  Aleks laughed softly. They were both still panting—and Brogan was still inside him when he told Aleks, "I want to take this to the next level."

  Aleks turned to stare over
his shoulder at him. "The gym?"

  "Are you really that good at playing an asshole or are you really one?"

  "You seem to know me so well, why don't you—"

  Brogan cut him off mid-sentence, and Aleks suddenly found himself flipped over and flat on his back with Brogan's palm across his throat. Not a killer one—a dominance hold. "I want to be exclusive. With you."

  Aleks's gut tightened. "Moving fast."

  "You seeing a lot of other guys on the side?"

  "Are you?"

  Brogan rolled his eyes. "No. I'm only seeing you. I've got no interest in seeing anyone else."

  "Okay."

  "Okay to…?"

  "You really want to go that far?" Aleks asked. "You sure?"

  "Very," Brogan said seriously.

  Aleks reached up and ran his knuckles along Brogan's jawline, even as Brogan's hand remained on his throat. "I've never done this."

  "Fucked in a gym?"

  "Thought about committing to someone."

  "I know. Seems fast, but…"

  "Ten years."

  "Ten years," Aleks repeated. "Guess we made a big impression on each other."

  "I guess so."

  Aleks's belly tightened. "I hated to fight."

  "I figured that out."

  "When?"

  "The first night we fucked and you asked if I wanted to pay you. I hate that you think—"

  "You don't know what I think."

  "I'm not a rich asshole with nothing better to do than buy his way through men."

  Aleks stared at him. Nodded. And thankfully, Brogan didn't press it any further, just tugged him closer.

  "My wild thing," Brogan murmured against his ear.

  Aleks jerked a little. "What did you call me?"

  "Mine," Brogan told him.

  Aleks turned to stare up at him with an expression Brogan couldn't read on his face. "I've never…done this. Been with anyone. Not like this."

  Brogan stroked his hair. "How's it feel?"

  "I don't know."

  "You're still here."

  "I guess that speaks more than words," Aleks muttered, almost sounding angry with himself.

  "Want to stay at my place?" Brogan asked as he locked up the gym and they walked to their respective car and bike.

  "I've got to work early," Aleks said.

  "Tomorrow night, then?" Brogan asked.

  "I'll call you."

  Brogan frowned a little but then changed tactics. "So, how do you feel about coming to a wedding?"

  It was Aleks's turn to frown. "Now you're definitely moving too fast."

  "Yeah, don't flatter yourself. It's my cousin, Harry."

  Aleks's gut twisted. "When is it?"

  "Next month. It's very sudden. He's always been impulsive, but this? His mom—my aunt—she's flipping out trying to put together a formal wedding in a month."

  "Harry and his bride-to-be aren't helping?"

  "Are you kidding? They're traveling. He's used to having everything done for him and his fiancée is the same way. I'm not sure my aunt's even told them their wedding date."

  "So your aunt's cool with this—with you inviting me?"

  "She was the first one who knew I was gay—probably around the same time I figured it out."

  "Okay, then." He'd have to take out Harry before that, but at least he had a date when Harry would be back in the States. Unless… "Destination wedding?"

  "Are you kidding? There's a church named after us. The Montgomery-Johnstones all get married there. And it's right in town."

  And there it was, just like Aleks knew would happen—the perfect opportunity at the most imperfect time.

  "Hey." Brogan looked concerned. "You all right?"

  "I'm fine. Perfect," Aleks lied. Because that was the best thing he could do for Brogan right now. Maybe it was all he could ever do.

  Chapter Twelve

  Con got the list. All told it had taken the better part of a month, during which Harry continued traveling through Europe, and Brogan attended several meetings in London with the Montgomery-Johnstone board of directors. But finally, the ring shaped up enough to formalize their list of recruits and their targets.

  It made Aleks sick to look at.

  "You've got a window of maybe a week before they start going over these people," Con told him, his voice low, even though they were safely in Aleks's apartment. Aleks understood—when this shit started happening, it seemed like no place was safe. "I could warn the fighters but one of them will sing."

  Con was right. Harry needed to go down. "A week sounds about right. The wedding's this Sunday. I'd imagine he's got to touch down here at the very least the night before," he managed, his voice sounding calmer than he felt.

  Con leaned forward, put a hand on his arm. "Listen to me, Aleks—I'll do this for you. Gladly. Just say the word. I've got nothing to lose killing Harry. My conscience will be clean."

  But Aleks shook his head. "Mine would be too."

  "You'll be sleeping in bed next to his cousin every night. I don't consider that clean," Con reasoned.

  "It's my responsibility. It's for my brother. If I can't live with it…"

  "Okay, man, I get it." Con took a deep breath. "I'll keep up my part in this until you tell me otherwise."

  Aleks nodded, grateful that Con would trust him. Now, more than ever, Aleks needed to assess Brogan's involvement…and let Brogan know what was going to happen. It was put up or shut up time, and Aleks was prepared to do whatever it took to keep his end of the bargain to Vann and to Brogan.

  Aleks went over it in his head as he hit the bag with brute force.

  You're going to kill his cousin to save his life…when you don't know if his life needs saving.

  Or you could tell him. Everything.

  Right, like Brogan would just say, "Okay, great, go ahead and kill Harry and we'll live happily ever after."

  "Motherfucker!" he roared and kicked the bag, hard enough to bend the metal bar it hung from. He stopped, hung his head.

  He owed it to himself and Vann to carry out the original plan. Harry Montgomery-Johnstone deserved nothing less than death, and probably a harsher one than he'd get. If it meant Aleks had to sacrifice his happiness for that, he would. His brother deserved nothing less.

  "Sorry—can't tonight," Aleks told Brogan for the third night in a row.

  "Or any night this week. Aleks, I'm a big boy—"

  "So then deal with it," Aleks snapped.

  "I'm coming in."

  "What the fuck?" Aleks glanced at his door out of habit…just in time to see Brogan letting himself in. "Seriously. What the fuck?"

  "You think you're the only one who can break into places?" Brogan looked entirely too smug as he locked the door behind him.

  Aleks waited for Brogan to walk over to him, his heart pounding. He knew what he should do—tell Brogan everything, tell him to walk away and then Aleks would carry out his plan.

  He knew what he wanted to do in this very moment. Because if it was between talk or sex, sex was easier, and harder, in many respects. But Aleks could handle that kind of invasion from Brogan. Probably even needed it. "Your place," he managed.

  Brogan stood inches from him, watching him carefully. "Okay. But we'll talk after," he said, as though reading Aleks's mind.

  Aleks only nodded and let Brogan steer him out of the apartment and into his car. The ride was a silent blur. Brogan parked in the familiar garage, and the men kept their hands to themselves in the elevator.

  Aleks wasn't sure why he was so drawn to Brogan's place, why it was important to be here instead of his place when they talked… he just knew it was.

  "Enough thinking," Brogan told him. "Bedroom."

  Aleks followed him after toeing off his heavy boots and leaving them by the door. He put his wallet, phone and keys there too, like he was unconsciously planning a quick escape, and it didn't go unnoticed by Brogan, who merely looked at what Aleks had done and frowned a little.

  But
Aleks did what he'd asked, went into the bedroom and stripped.

  "On all fours, facing the headboard."

  Aleks followed Brogan's orders, loving it and hating it at the same time.

  Brogan shoved Aleks's face down into the pillow, twisting his hands in Aleks's hair, telling him to "Stay."

  Aleks didn't have much of a choice, since Brogan was currently tying his hands behind his back—more of a symbolic gesture than a hard hold but it was still way fucking hotter than Aleks would've thought—and then hoisted his hips up, forcing him onto his knees, shoulders touching the mattress.

  Brogan slapped Aleks’s ass, several times, leaving satisfying red marks on and hearing the even more satisfying moans that drummed up from Aleks's throat.

  "Beautiful. I like you like this, not talking back, unable to do anything but shut up and take the pleasure I give you."

  Aleks rumbled something deep in his chest (cursing at Brogan, no doubt) but Brogan didn't care. He wanted Aleks on sensory overload, wanted to turn him into a shaking, panting, goddamned mess of a man.

  He knew he was close when he heard Aleks murmuring something in Russian. He couldn't understand it but could recognize the language. Maybe Aleks didn't realize he was doing it at all. Brogan tried to commit a few of the phrases or at least some of the words to memory so he could look them up later.

  "So…the Russian?" he murmured and Aleks turned his head to stare at him, his dark eyes searching Brogan's, and although his expression didn't change, his body tensed.

  "It slips out sometimes."

  "Only sometimes."

  "When I forget," he explained. "It slips out when I let myself forget."

  "Forget more," Brogan murmured.

  Aleks gave a stuttered laugh but didn't answer. Brogan steadied his body over Aleks's, wanting to hear that again, wanting Aleks to forget and lose himself.

  Wanted all of him, in the most selfish ways possible. Brogan would take the unwilling man under him and make him beg for it.

  And Brogan put his hand flat in the middle of his back, pressing his shoulders to the mattress, forcing his forehead to do the same again, ass up in a seemingly humiliating position, knees spread, Brogan blowing on his hole, making it twitch and Aleks squirm.