Antidote (Don't) (40 page)

Breathing came to a standstill.

The light had gone from Gray’s spare room and everywhere was in that almost dead silence when I woke. A soft scratching came, and it took a while to register it came from my own fingers on skin as I eased itching at my side. Darkness was broken by moonlight, silver light that cast shadows over the room. Trees moved, stirred by a breeze, sending out shadows that danced the latest rave over the walls, the unsettlement gnawing in my stomach with how quiet the dancing scene was lately.

Social. I didn’t do so—

“Just tell me you love me, Jack. Not that bastard in your dreams.”

I eased the covers off me and pushed out of bed. Before Gray had came into the room earlier, I’d changed jeans and hospital clothes for jogging bottoms, the harder material of the jeans pressing the hospital gear into my groin and hips, only adding to the goddamn irritation spreading over my lower half. Giving a scowl, I looked at the bottom of the bed. The meds had been kicked out of the bag and lay tossed in the blankets, almost seeming to sigh as they settled down for the night. The bathroom was back to my right, and I glanced over my shoulder, echoes of Gray’s earlier conversation kicking in.

Shivering, I left the meds there and pushed on through to the corridor outside. Eyes closed, letting the walls run under my touch for guidance, I forced calmness into the feel of the familiar. I knew the west wing, had spent many a night as a teen wandering them like this, just ghosting the night. Even back then, life was better with as few people around as possible. And over the eleven years I’d been here, nothing had changed. The walls still felt as smooth, the run of wood with red carpet striping the middle, just as known under my feet. Everything was so fucking familiar, I’d made it downstairs, through the hall, into the main lounge before I’d had the sense to open my eyes.

The giant panelled windows were covered by curtains, and I went over, using the cord to open them both so I could see outside. Gray’s black Merc slept outside on the gravel, his Rolls Royce just beyond that. From the fountain, the lights now timed to off, the sound of water was barely audible, but seemed too content to share a conversation with the forest just off in the distance. Water ran, trees waved, life went on. Fuckin’ peach—

Fine. Just fucking fine.

Feeling things calm a little more, I made it over to the white leather lounger and brought my feet up as I sat with my back against the armrest. The moon was cut into sections by the window frame, the uppermost panels lengthening the silver light, almost stretching to get farther into the room. Some fell on my feet, giving them a grey colour. Arms wrapped around knees, I listened, looked, just letting the still of the night quiet everything else. The monitor I’d broken had been replaced, so too had some of the mechanic manuals I’d left on his bookshelf. The jogging bottoms I wore were new, not ones I’d chosen, but then, I hadn’t had much time to do much shopping over Christmas, Vince—

“Hey, easy—easy, our kid. You need something more, don’t you?” mumbled Vince.

“Huh?”

Thumbs stroked at my temples, body weighing mine down and pushing me into the bed. Breathing hurt even without Vince’s weight on top of me. The deep ache and rattle with each breath felt like I’d been coughing and throwing up as tubing clogged up my throat. Dreams had been cloudy, heated, missing holding onto Jan under me, then loving the echo of Jan against me, struggling. Not fighting, not hurting, just kisses, just quiet—then life stirred into something completely different when that touch heated up, loving the reactions he gave. I’d woken hard and swollen between my thighs, a whole new ache playing havoc with my body. Eyes were closed, body curled away from Vince. Jan and playing with my body seemed to go hand in hand together, and with Vince sleeping, it didn’t feel so wrong to explore and play fantasy off against a slow touch between my thighs.

Then Vince had woken. Turned over, stretched behind me, then let a hand rest around my waist.

“Oh, in the mood for playing, boy?”

He took over stroking along my dick. Life was blurry around the edges and a displaced feeling kicking in. Nothing felt familiar. Not the bed, not the unit by my side of the bed, nor the stand that had tubes dangling down.

But Jan... I gripped around Vince’s hand, screwing my eyes closed and making him stroke harder, faster.

Vince chuckled. “Look at you, all horny there, kid. Fucking work it.”

But I twisted my head into the pillow, missing something, missing someone. Heavy pants of breath turned to frustrated twists of body and grunts as my orgasm hid away from me, laughing somewhere in the distance as I tried to catch up.

“Hey, easy—easy, our kid. You need something more, don’t you?”

I stilled, not wanting to look at Vince, even after he’d pulled me onto my back and climbed on top.

“Those rough dreams.” Thumbs stroked at my temples. “They leaving you horny, baby?”

I twisted my head away and screwed my eyes shut, blushing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Vince. He pulled me back and asked for a kiss. It was the first time his body had felt so good, that thoughts over anyone else but Vince existed then. I kissed him back, heating up in his mouth. Vince pulled back after a moment and rested his forehead against mine. “Fuck, that was good, kid.” His breathing was heavy, so was mine. I guided his hand down my body. “Oh yeah, baby. You need something more. Jack, I don’t like doing it, but... just to ease this ache between your legs... I’ll tie you up. I’ll... I’ll rough sex up enough to give you what you need this once.”

I groaned, body arching up into his. This was the time to say no, to back away, to think about Jan and let life calm. But need... I needed—“Please, Vince.”

“Oh yeah, baby.” Hands drawn above my head, Vince reached into a draw by the bed and tied them there with a leather belt. “Let’s you and me play for a bit. Swear I won’t be too rough, our kid...” A grip snaked around my throat. “It’s not as if thinking about Jan has got you hard, right? This is all because of me.”

Life went pretty still.

“Oh.” Vince chuckled as he reached beneath the bed and pulled out some lube. “Caught you out, Jack, our lad. You’re going soft on me here.”

He pulled out a baseball bat next, then started rubbing lube over the thick end.

“Give you some early morning wood in the truest form, then, eh? Then we’ll see if we can get something in your cock to help with your little problem there.”

Thick legs parting mine as I started to struggle, Vince came down and kissed at my cheek. “Fucking hate that you make me do this, Jack,” he said with a touch of sadness, the bat rubbing along my balls, sometimes tilting and slicking my ass. “But anything to help you. You did ask for this, right? You—”

“Jack?”

Sat there in Gray’s living room and giving a frown, I shut out the blood-filled screams and glanced right to see a mug of coffee steamed the air from the coffee table, a bacon sandwich sat next to that, lashings of brown sauce easing out of the sides.

Who the hell eats breakfast at this shit hour of night?

But then other things started to kick in, how I wasn’t on the settee anymore, but over on the chair, legs pulled up, with the telephone pulled from its usual place on the wall and sitting close to my feet. Light wasn’t sliced into individual panes anymore, but lit up the whole lounge, willing life to stir with it. Back over by the windows, moonlight had given way to a crisp winter morning. Trees looked too tired and burdened with fresh snowfall to wave anymore and the water was lost to the morning chorus of birds. At least those bastards didn’t whisper. But it did highlight how the Christmas tree was gone, too, along with all of the decorations. Everything back to normal, put in its place, or replaced.

“You okay?”

I looked back to see who’d spoken. Ed was crouched in front of me, eyes narrowed with worry as he blinked back. He had pure blue eyes, making him almost alien with his lack of hair and high forehead. He was close to Gray emotionally, always had been, even in blue-eyed look, although Gray carried the colour so much better.

“How long have you been down here, Jack? You look half frozen, son.”

The cold kicked in a little more, but I resisted rubbing at my arms, but couldn’t stop my bastard shivering as I tried to shake myself into gear. Not long. I hadn’t been down here that long.

“Take this.” Ed shifted and reached back for the coffee. “Maybe have something to eat too; then go get some sleep. I think...” He glanced at the phone. “I think we need to talk to Gray, see if Martin’s starting to stretch his wings an—”

“What—what time is it?”

Ed frowned, the coffee only halfway to me. “It’s getting on for six thirty. Gray will be up soon, and I’ll do us all some....”

I pushed off the chair, forcing Ed to move as I headed for the door.

“Jack, where are you going?”

“Work,” I mumbled, heading out into the hall for the main entrance.

“Jack, you still have your pyjama bottoms on.”

I glanced down, frowning. Yeah, Change. I had to get to work, but change first. Something else was said from behind, but I was already heading up the stairs. I made it back to my room ten minutes later and peeled off my clothes. I showered quick, other memories coming into play, but I shouldered them off, buried them firmly in getting dressed. Jeans on, T-shirt over my head, coveralls. Routine. Routine was—

...worry, Jack.

I stopped, just easing the itching going on with my side before finishing pulling on my coveralls.

The meds caught my attention, then the bathroom again. Giving a huff, I went over and picked up the three bottles. After dry-swallowing what I needed to take, I was downstairs, picking my car keys off the table where I’d left them a few weeks ago, and heading out for my Merc.

Gray was at the door by that time, mobile already in use as I shifted into gear. But work... I’d shirked work for long enough, and routine. No, fuck routine, this was just work. The gates to Gray’s manor opened up and I pulled onto the main road, conscious of a black Merc that followed me out.

Aid was already sorting through the client list when I headed on in. I got a smile up at me as I stopped by his desk, then just a real strange, longer gaze. “Christ,” said Aid. “I mean, well, are you, hmmm, okay to be in work, boss? You look...” He seemed to struggle for the words.

“Fight with an engine,” I said. “I lost.”

“Ouch.” He grinned. “Not a good Christmas holiday, then?”

I smiled. Almost. “How have things been?”

“Good,” said Aid, slipping the book over to me. “The guy your dad sent over is a bit of an arsehole, but,” Aid shrugged, “he got the job done.” Aid seemed to stiffen as the door came open behind me and I look back to see a man in his fifties wearing a suit come in. “Speaking of which,” mumbled Aid under his breath.

“Jack.”

I took the man’s hand. “Paul.” He’d worked with my old man long since before I was born, but other than his name, I knew nothing about him. “Thanks for looking after the place. I’ll see you right to the end of the week for the inconvenience, but I’ll take things from here.”

He seemed to stiffen a little. “Are you sure? Yesterday your father said I’d be needed for a few more weeks here yet. After your op—”