Don't... (12 page)

What the fuck was he doing to me?

“Don’t fight me, Jack.”

“Please.” That was barely whispered. “Get the fuck out of my head.”

“Don’t...”

I groaned.

“...fear me, Jack.”

I spun round and hurled my keys at the computer. “Get the fuck out of my head. Leave me alone.”

I waited for a response, some sound, anything that would suggest I was alone.

Silence.

Somehow it was worse than his voice.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, Jack?”

Hands running through my hair, I groaned again and headed for my computer desk. My chair took my weight, and I crossed my arms on the desk and buried my head.

“Jack.” Such a calm fucking voice. “There is a word you can use. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

I looked at the Polaroid just inches from me. Two days. Had it been two days?

My head pounded yes, but.... “No,” I murmured quietly. I needed—I don’t know what the hell I needed. He seemed to know, and that scared the hell out of me.

Silence.

“Don’t....”

A great part of me I didn’t want to acknowledge seemed to sigh with relief hearing his voice.

“...look in your bedside drawer.”

I glanced over my shoulder. My top drawer was open by a few inches, and I knew I hadn’t left it like that this morning. Nothing else looked out of place; this bastard was too good for that. The bed sheets weren’t ruffled, curtains were open, window locked, fitted wardrobe doors closed, and the glass reflecting my sorry ass back at me was set securely in place. So I went over to the only thing that was out of order.

Inside the top drawer, lying on the neat rows of socks, sat a thin silver parcel. It would be a thin silver parcel. Length was about six inches, weight... Yeah, my letter opener at work had a twin.

I pulled the contents out and tossed the case on the floor. This was new, too, the blade fresh, untouched.

The bedroom was suddenly hotter, my skin damp with sweat, hands shaking as I felt it against my skin. New blades were the crème de la crème, and I know I groaned. Again I swore I caught a glint of light off the thin silver blade, but that was just tricks, forgotten flashbacks, first tastes of Cutter dragging a razor slowly over my skin. Yeah,
boy
friend hadn’t exactly been accurate back there; man and twisted fuck came to mind.

“Don’t... bleed for me, Jack.”

I glanced back into my room, back by my desk, but didn’t register much. Knife in hand, I began to undress.

Standing there naked, just before I slipped under, before I knew I’d slip under, I flicked a look to where my phone had landed on the floor. Jan. He had a good phone voice. Something. Something that could shake me out of this even if it was only a brief hello.

Ass naked, I started searching for his number. I’d had it yesterday as we stood by the car, but I’d done what with it? Coveralls. They were in yesterday’s coveralls. Bathroom, we’d undressed in the bathroom. I’d put them in the wash basket in there.

It took me a moment to get to the bathroom and start pulling things out. I kept one, maybe two days of washing in there if I was real lazy. This morning a towel was in there, so too were my jeans, T-shirt, and boxers. Underneath them—

Yes.

I pulled the coveralls out and started patting the pockets. “Fuck.” I searched the left, right, the top pocket. Nothing. I checked again to make sure, heart beating a little faster now. Then it hit me: he’d called. Jan’s number would be logged in recent calls. Stupid techno-less idiot.

One call. I just needed this one call. I just needed someone to be there for this one fucking call.

Back in my room, I picked the phone off the floor and started flicking through screens. Should’ve put it under his name. Would’ve made this easier. Where—there. It was the only unrecognised number. Slumping on the bed, I pressed dial.

“Hello. You’ve reached Jan Richards. Unfortunately—”

I threw the phone at the wall, watched it hit the floor in two pieces, then scrambled over, down onto my knees and started jamming it back together. “Jesus, Jan. Just once.”

Gray. What the fuck was I thinking? I hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. Gray. A little self-loathing splashed cold water over any lust. Gray knew this shit, he knew me. Fuck the fact he’d said no contact for a while; he wouldn’t mind a call now, not over this. If Jan—

Jan.

I went over and slumped back in my computer chair. Christ. Jan. It hurt: my abs, my head, not being able to hear Jan’s voice, knowing what was wrong with me and hating why I hadn’t called a stop to it.

Strange how I still held the knife, and its weight became heavier as I looked down at it.

Should have thrown the blade....

“Are you finished now, Jack?”

I went quiet. Still. That cock cage had gone out of the bathroom too. I hadn’t moved it from beside the shower last night. In fact, I’d pretty much forgotten about it period. But it seemed this bastard didn’t need it anyway.

I’d never been scared before, not like this.

My cock just needed to understand how to react the
right
way to fear.

“Don’t...”

Eyes closed, I let my head drop to my chest.

“...bleed, Jack.”

Bastard.

My grip tightened on the knife, breathing coming faster. I’d bleed for him. I started to shake. And if he said “Don’t... come,” well, like fuck would I follow his orders. I needed to come now.

Jan’s Missed Moment

The plane touched down at London City Airport two hours earlier than planned. My luck had been in again, managing to catch onto an exchange ticket due to overcrowding. Overnight case in hand, and ignoring the neverending battle cries of the airport, I headed on out to my car. After throwing the bag in the boot, I slumped inside, took a deep breath to let out the stress, then grabbed my phone. It was touching seven, and I wasn’t really sure what time Jack closed his garage, so I tried there first. On the eighth ring, I got the hint that the shop had closed for the night, and I opted for Jack’s home number instead. My phone had registered a missed call from him last night, and I’d hated that I’d missed him. I’d been held in one meeting till well after dark, so phoning him back hadn’t seemed right. Top that with the fact I’d had an early meeting in the morning, it seemed hearing his voice was well out of the question due to pure exhaustion.

Resting back, I gave a smile. God, it was going to be good seeing him again. He had a body and mind I wanted to wake up next to, but not just that, the basic things, like getting ready together to go to work, having him there when I got home, sharing a coffee, preparing dinner together, things that most lovers took for granted. Those little details made it worth opening your eyes for in the morning, sex just being a part of the wider world. Yeah, I was a romantic, didn’t mind admitting it, and Jack, with such a hands-on love to every aspect of life, he seemed worth wearing your heart on your sleeve for. But we’d have to have a word about what I saw going on his drawers when I’d searched around for a pen in his bedroom. I hid a smile. Socks weren’t only ordered into neat little rows, but also colour coordinated. Briefs had been the same, but the shocker had come with the condoms. Jack had obviously made this little divider that had ten or so equally sized compartments (johnny size). Ribbed went with ribbed, flavoured with flavoured (each given their own space to live), then each of those arranged according to colour and use-by date.

Getting no luck with Jack’s home number either, I slipped the phone into my jacket pocket and put the gears into reverse. There was a good chance he was driving home. I just hoped he wouldn’t mind me turning up a few hours early.

It seemed a fight to get to Old Kent Road, but I didn’t mind it so much. I’d made a point of getting those meetings called early so I could take full advantage of my day off tomorrow. No doubt Jack would have to work, but maybe with a little persuasion....

Mmmmm. Persuasion. That brought a thousand and one wicked ways to work Jack, bring him around to my way of thinking for a lazy day tomorrow. Well, maybe not too lazy. That cage told a few stories on how adventurous he was, and I was all up for discovering my, and his, limits.

I pulled up outside Jack’s half-an-hour later and slipped the handbrake on as I looked over to his house. The opposing rows of semi-detacheds (Jack’s had an alley joining his and his neighbour’s house) all reminded me of where I’d grown up: a little rough housing estate in the East End. Like mine back then, here all the houses that faced each other took opposition to the extreme: growling at each other across the distance, the trees lining each path were simply the line of refs, wind the whistle, as they stood there holding their hands out to keep them all apart. From the twitches of curtains going on with the neighbours, it seemed that stranger-in-town animosity still reigned, and I decided to make this as quick as possible.

I hadn’t seen Jack’s Merc parked outside, which is where he’d let it rest the last time I was here, and I tried not to let disappointment gnaw at my insides. A few knocks at his door, a ring at his bell, only confirmed the obvious, and I stepped back and looked up with a sigh.

So if he wasn’t at work, not here, where—

“I think he had class tonight. Should be back about nineish.”

I looked to my left and saw an elderly man half leaning out of his upstairs open window.

“Oh.” I stepped back some to get a better look. “Thanks. You wouldn’t happen to know where, would you?”

The man eyed me suspiciously.

“I’m a client from work,” I said quickly, although that wasn’t entirely true.

The man looked from me to my car. “Not a black Merc.”

“Sorry?”

“Jack.” The man was back with me now. “Usually his clients from work have black Mercs.”

I frowned. “No, just my Jag. He fixed it for me.”

“Oh, right.” The man smiled, and there seemed a lot of ease behind it. “Name’s Ken. I’m Jack’s, well,” he shrugged, “neighbour.”

I chuckled. “Nice to meet you, Ken. Name’s Jan.” I looked back to the near-empty road. “Would you happen to know where his class is?”

“Sure.”

I asked him to wait as I got my phone out, and I typed the address into a route-finder as he spoke. “Great, thanks.” It wasn’t a long drive from here, fifteen minutes, tops.

“Good to have met you, Ken,” I said, giving him a nod and heading off for my car.

“Anytime,” I got called back. “Just be grateful you got me and not the rest of this lousy lot. Jack’s a good man.”

I looked back and offered him a smile. Yeah, I knew how things could get; he didn’t have to apologise for bad attitudes. Ken gave a wave and disappeared back into his house, the close of his window adding a ‘thump’ into the otherwise quiet. Along with the noise came a flutter of Jack’s upstairs curtain. The window was open and no doubt the late-night breeze had caught it. But as I got in my car, I shivered and couldn’t shake that feeling of being watched, the weirdest sensation being, it felt like it came from the blackness that was Jack’s windows.

Closing my eyes, arms lazy across the steering wheel, I rested my head down as I sat in my car outside the dojo. I should have called Max and asked her to take over tonight’s session. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about it. Half of Friday morning had gone before I’d pulled my head off the pillow, the constant ringing of the phone only partly dragging me out from exhausted sleep. Where that had failed, banging on my front door had finally forced my feet to find the floor, and Steve and his
Th’fuck you think you’re doing
glare greeted me at the door.

The stinging from three more cuts to my abdomen, two to my inner thighs and left shoulder were hidden by my T-shirt and jogging bottoms I’d managed to pull on. Steve mistook avoidance of my eyes to be a sign of illness, when embarrassment, a little shame, and a fight to stay in control were really to blame. That and feeling a little sick. Last night had been... intense, but other than hours of knife-play, I hadn’t come. (Stop the tape, rewind, press play again, I hadn’t been allowed to come, which really fucked with my head.) My body had been left in a strange state, not quite fulfilled, yet eased of a lot of tension and Unknown’s voice... just a confidant, someone to explore secrets with, to allow secrets to be played out. He wasn’t there physically in my room, so I knew the only real danger was that which I posed to myself. But his voice.... I’d stood there not really listening to Steve’s concern, the stinging from the cuts still hummed around my body some ten hours later. I wasn’t sick, no, I simmered, sometimes taken so close to release that it would almost be a disappointment if I came. I didn’t want to come. Other than being cut, bound and fucked, it wasn’t anything any sickness pills could cure.

Steve, graciously, gave me the rest of the day off, and I’d headed on back to bed to try and sleep through the ache going on with my body. Luckily Unknown seemed to understand, saying nothing. There was that light breathing, his. My security system was pretty unique; there was always someone watching the property, so in a way, I found comfort in The Unknown’s surveillance. Or maybe that was just another head fuck. If it hadn’t been for Max calling me and reminding me to phone the caretaker and open the doors to the dojo, I would have slept through until I’d heard from Jan.