Bound by Lies (27 page)

“Stop it!” Brayden yells. He moves to get between them.

“Don’t protect him!” Art bellows.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jenner shouts, trying to get around Brayden.

“Get away from him, Braydy,” Art warns. “I’m not letting this fucker lay his hands on you anymore.”

“What do you think is going on here, exactly,” Jenner demands, licking blood from his teeth.

“Jenner. Don’t,” Brayden begs, gone from flushed to pale again, too fast. “Please. Art, it’s none of your business.”

“It
is
my business now. I saw the bruises. I heard him in there with you. I heard everything—the way he threatened you. I heard him hurting you. I heard you
beg him
to stop. It stops now. I don’t give a shit if you are my friend, Parrish, or my boss. You don’t get to treat him like that.”

“Oh my god,” Brayden groans, hiding his face in his hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Art tells Brayden.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jenner spits. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

“
Jenner
,” Brayden pleads, turning to him. “Please don’t.”

“It’s too late,” Jenner says. “He thinks I’m using you as my own personal punching bag or some shit.”

“Worse than that and you know it,” Art seethes. And that’s when Jenner puts it together. As Brayden looks on, Jenner’s face lights with dismayed realization. Brayden wants to deny all of it, every part.

“What we do is our business and no one else’s. We don’t owe you an explanation,” Jenner says. “Fuck off.”

“No. Brayden, come on. Get away from him. He’s probably got you brainwashed, thinking you have to do what he says or pay the consequences.”

“This is so fucked up,” Brayden moans, his head throbbing. He wanders away from both of them, sitting on a large box placed against the wall a few feet away.

Murder gleams red and ready in Art’s face. It becomes quite apparent that he’s not going to let this go.

Lowering his voice as much as possible, Jenner hisses through his teeth, “I am not raping him. That’s not what this is. You don’t get to assume you know what’s going on here after eavesdropping on part of a private exchange through a closed door.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t.” Brayden says, giving up, unwilling to be a part of the argument after they’ve thrown the word ‘rape’ out there. He bolts for the exit, pushing past Max when she appears.

“Fuck. Brayden! Bray, wait!” Jenner calls, but when Jenner starts to run after him, Art growls, “Oh, no you don’t,” and punches him in the stomach, doubling Jenner over, sending their worlds tumbling into chaos.

Holding on to the pain grinding like shards of glass under the skin, using it like a lifeline leading him to safer ground, Jenner climbs the flight of steps to his apartment. It had taken an hour of solitary work, but he’d managed to close the bar by himself after Max and Art took off, leaving him bruised and bleeding in both literal and figurative ways. There were a few other members of staff left but Jenner told them to go home too, preferring to do the job himself and avoid the awkward stares and silence.

He could have defended himself against Art’s attack, but was strangely unwilling to. After all, Art’s intentions were pure, if misguided. With his best friends thinking Jenner capable of such terrible acts, the punishment seemed warranted. He let Art lash out because it felt like a crucial wake-up call. Maybe, after everything, Jenner really has been the bad guy in all of this.

It’s not even seven o’clock, but he didn’t have enough people to keep the place open and wasn’t up to it anyway. The wounds on his face, the nauseous ache in his belly from being kicked by Art’s solid boot, it’s nothing compared to the hurt to his ego and the defenselessness he feels, with no idea where Brayden could be, or what he must be thinking. Then there’s the problem of what he’s going to do about his business if half his staff have gone permanently AWOL. If he wants to mend things with Max and Art, he needs to expose much more of what he’s promised Brayden, and himself, to keep secret.

On the second to the top stair, Jenner pauses, leaning against the wall with his shoulder. His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. His fingers fumble at the keys in his pocket. After a minute, he gets hold of them and slides one into the lock only to have the door swing right open before he can turn the key.

At first he doesn’t know what to make of it. Then he wonders if he’s been robbed.

That’d be a perfect way to end this day
, he thinks,
to have my door busted open when there’s nothing in the damn apartment worth stealing anyway.

Readying himself for a fight, without anything resembling the energy he would need to kick someone’s ass right now, he calls wearily, “If you’re still here, I called the cops, and I have a black belt in jujitsu, so… yeah.”

Jenner pushes the door opened and leans on the doorframe, clutching his side.

“What’re you gonna charge me with? Failure to have some balls and be a man?”

His head turns so fast that Jenner gets a blinding twinge in his neck. Wincing, he squints at the figure in the shadows.

“Jesus, Jenn. Look at you.”

Brayden is standing in the kitchen, arranging groceries on the countertop. Jenner doesn’t know what to say except, with awe, “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” Brayden sighs. Leaving the random bottles, boxes and produce behind, he walks up to Jenner. He stares up at Jenner’s face, evaluating the bruises, maybe looking for signs of breaks or more serious injury. Jenner won’t meet his eyes, but hobbles past, his hand still pressed to his left side. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Art did this?”

Oh, I’ve had it coming for a while
, Jenner thinks, but says nothing.
You can only behave like a dick for so long to those closest to you before they turn it right back on your ass.

Jenner makes it to the freezer and digs out some ice. Brayden watches him wrap the ice in a dishtowel and press it to his jaw. When Brayden starts toward him, Jenner turns his back, bracing a hand on the counter.

“Have I been out of line with you?”

“What,” Brayden blinks. “No. What are you talking about?”

Rolling his eyes, Jenner tries to gather his wits, but the fuzzy feeling won’t pass.

“Art has no idea what he’s talking about,” Brayden tells him. “I was just… I guess I was afraid to tell him about us. But I should have. I should have just gotten over my shit and stood up for you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Come on and lie down,” Brayden coaxes. “The new bed is here. I put some sheets on it, just, you know, to keep busy. I stopped at the market down the street for this food, too, so that we’d have some basics. Do you need more ice for your ribs? Should I take you to the hospital?”

“You should go,” Jenner says quietly. “Get away from me.”

“No,” Brayden frowns. “No way.”

“All of this sadomasochism, making you my slave, taking my orders, is it really so far off from what Art was saying it is? The safeword is supposed to keep things in check, but if you’re not in the right frame of mind to know when to use it, I should know better than to start anything with you. I
have
forced myself on you. Maybe I am the bad guy.”

“Art needs to get his head out of his ass,” Brayden says sharply. “He’s delusional. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was kind of a trip to have someone like him standing up for me for once instead of knocking me down for being different, but you know how this started just as well as I do. I was the one wearing the collar. I chose you at Manse as much as you chose me. Don’t kid yourself.”

“You were miserable today. Don’t try to deny it. The whole thing with Enrique. That picture of you and Andre. You were happier there, in Miami.”

Brayden smiles suddenly, but it’s dark, bitter. His subsequent laugh is even more so. “Shut the fuck up, Parrish. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs Jenner by the elbow and yanks him toward the bedroom.

Jenner shakes him off.

“Go
home
, Brayden.”

“Go lie down before you pass out!” Brayden shouts.

For Jenner, it flips a switch. Everything falls away, everything but his anger.

There’s a pause where everything stops. The air is thick, almost solid. Neither of them breathes. Then, Jenner moves, and he moves faster than Brayden would have thought possible given the exhaustion and pain reflected in his lover’s eyes. Jenner gets hold of both of Brayden’s lower arms, brings them around and up, twisting them to cross behind his neck, forces him over the edge of the countertop and kicks his feet apart.

“This is what you want? Huh?!”

Jenner’s voice is rough with fury, gravelly with emotion, and it makes Brayden’s skin prickle, every hair standing on end.

“You think I’m
hurt
and
fragile
right now, but I will
always
be bigger than you. I will always be
stronger
than you and
quicker
than you. I know how to disable a man. I know where the weak spots are, how to bind you, ways to hurt you. Whatever I wanted to do to you, I could, and you wouldn’t be able to fight back even a little.”

Brayden hears. His wrists, crossed at the nape of his neck, are held so tightly in the grip of Jenner’s left hand that both hands begin to go numb. The edge of the counter presses into Brayden’s gut, unyielding, and he can’t even get his feet flat on the ground. The heat radiating from Jenner is powerful and, even without seeing him, Brayden can feel how big he is, how it’s nothing for him to disable Brayden like this. This is
easy.

“I might have a cracked rib,” Jenner tells him in that same gruff, raspy tone. “I’ve been punched in the head a few times, so I’m not thinking too clearly right now, but guess what? I’m not some helpless little
fuck
that you need to handhold. I’m something you should
fear.
”

Blood pounds in Brayden’s ears. His heart hammers in his chest. Brayden tries to suck down some oxygen. He focuses on that, just inhaling, his mouth slack against the cool granite. An intense shiver races down his spine.

Brayden’s pants are forced down. The button fly pops as the fabric strains, pulling against his thighs. The air of the room is chilly against his bared skin when Jenner yanks the pants farther out of the way, and Brayden is overly conscious of the black briefs pulled tight over his ass, of Jenner’s enormous, solid body bearing down on him, immobilizing him.

“J-Jenn…” he tries, but then Jenner’s right hand pushes under the waistband of Brayden’s briefs, pulling the elastic against his pelvis until he’s just waiting for it to snap. Two dry fingers twist up into his body, and Brayden wheezes around a gasp, without enough breath to quite manage anything more.

“Am I helpless now?” Jenner growls. “Am I someone you want to
save
?”

Grabbing a bottle of vegetable oil from the counter amongst the scattered groceries which Brayden bought for them, for this place,
their
place, Jenner pours some on his hand. He inserts the slicked fingers back into Brayden, reaching deep.

There is no escape. Brayden’s face feels like it’s on fire with the force of his shame, because against all odds, he’s not disgusted by Jenner’s behavior. Brayden’s
enjoying
this, not enough to get hard, but enough to not say stop. This isn’t his Jenner; it’s the town’s Jenner, the don’t-you-dare-fuck-with-me Jenner that Brayden was afraid of as soon as he first walked into the bar, needing a job and having to ask one of their old school’s most beloved for it. There’s something empowering about facing that version of Jenner, at last. Head spinning, Brayden continues to focus solely on dragging shallow breaths in through his nose. The fingers pull out, and he moans, because it’s not over yet, not by a long shot.

There’s movement behind him, but the hand on his wrists only holds tighter. Brayden’s hands are limp, bloodless. Then he feels it, the engorged column of flesh that nudges between his cheeks. Jenner’s only half-hard but he presses forcefully enough to breach Brayden anyway, drawing a low, grunted sound from him as he’s entered.

“Tell me,
Brayden
, is this love?” Jenner snaps his hips, and Brayden squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can as he fights not to cry, hating himself for not even wanting to try to convince Jenner to stop, choosing the pain as his punishment for abandoning Jenner to his beating, and for abandoning other people too, all of those years ago.

Bending closer, so his lips are right by the side of Brayden’s face, Jenner says it again, as he violates the only good thing in his life, “Is
this
love?”

He wraps Brayden’s hip in one hand and pushes steadily into him. Brayden’s mouth works around a soundless yell. A tear slips down his cheek.

Sobbing, Jenner moves Brayden’s arms. He takes them down from behind Brayden’s head, stretching them out over the counter in front of them instead. Jenner lays him out, bent sharply at the waist, and holds Brayden down. Jenner tugs slowly out and thrusts back in.