Sex & Mayhem 01 Road of No Return (20 page)

Zak swallowed hard, his chest moving in a quick, nervous rhythm, but he didn’t move an inch. “Peter, I think you should go,” he eventually said, without ever looking away from Stitch.

“No, no way!” Cox raised the gun again. “I am not leaving you alone with this criminal. I am arresting him.”

“He did nothing wrong,” muttered Zak slowly, very clearly. “It’s a game we play. He must have stumbled and crushed the window.”

Stitch kneeled on the bed, unable to speak. This had to be the most humiliating day of his life. Not to mention his reaction most probably told Cox a lot more than Stitch wished to disclose.

“Why are you protecting him?” Cox hissed, but pulled the safety on again. Stitch found some satisfaction in the fact that his hands weren’t all that steady.

“He’s a friend.” Zak exhaled and leaned forward, brushing his fingers over Stitch’s hair. “Jesus, that window could have cut your hands open,” he whispered, but there was a slight tremor in his voice.

Cox took a step closer. “Your friend is covered in blood. Where the fuck were you, Larsen, huh?”

Stitch wanted to scrub that frown off his face with a grater. He slapped Zak’s hand away and ran his fingers through his own sticky hair. “It’s ketchup,” he uttered through gritted teeth and extended his fingers to Cox. “You wanna suck my fingers for a taste? Or are you here to suck something else?”

“Peter, go. I need to patch him up.” Zak held onto Stitch's hand. “I’m asking you to leave my home.” He sniffed, massaging the wrist slowly.

Cox stepped back but lowered the gun. “Don’t be stupid. Look at him.”

Stitch bared his teeth at Cox. Zak’s touch wasn’t helping at all. What he wanted was to bite Zak’s fingers off like the rabid dog Cox always claimed he was.

“He’s telling you to go,” he groaned at Cox.

Zak dragged his fingers down his tired face and shook his head. “Go. Just put your fucking clothes on and leave.”

Cox stood there, motionless, staring at Stitch for a moment too long before grabbing his briefs. “If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow, I’m gonna break into this house, and we can have our own fucking
game
.”

Stitch eyed him as he put his clothes on at the speed of lightning. If it wasn’t for the fact that Cox was a police officer, Stitch would smash his handsome face into the wall. Was there something Zak liked better in that pompous fuck? A clean shave? Shorter hair? He pulled his hand out of Zak’s grip, and as soon as he was free, Zak rushed for the closet and pulled out an oversized black T-shirt, which he put on, covering his naked chest and upper thighs. He said nothing and stayed in place, watching the shards of glass on the floor until Cox shut the door behind him without another word. His footsteps were loud on the staircase, but neither Stitch nor Zak spoke before they heard the door slam downstairs.

“Are we not back together?” Stitch rasped, unable to look up at Zak. He clenched his fists on his thighs. “Cox? Fucking
Cox
?”

There was a very long pause, but when the music died down and Zak spoke, his voice was every bit as hoarse as Stitch’s. “You thought... we’re an item?”

Stitch slowly dragged himself off the bed, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. How was this even a question? They had sex, ate together, went for dog walks, and Stitch even made him a fucking cupboard. What did this guy think they were? He looked up at Zak, haunted by the memory of how he’d first seen Crystal kiss Milton at the shopping mall. This was worse. Crystal was a question of pride, of possession. Zak? Zak had just put all the shards from that fucking window into his heart.

“You’ve been fucking him all this time?”

Zak scowled and crossed his arms on his chest, his posture tense. “Just a few times. He’s a bottom,” he uttered.

“That’s it? That what you need?” Stitch whispered, afraid his voice would tremble if he spoke up. He’d done everything he could to learn what Zak liked. He’d even started considering sucking him off despite the anxiety he felt at the thought. But no, it wasn’t enough. Once again, he couldn’t satisfy his partner.

Zak gasped and bumped his head against the closet. “I don’t understand. You fuck girls, why would me fucking another guy from time to time be so different. Is it because he’s got a dick?”

Stitch suppressed the urge to once more wrap his hands around that slim throat. “What is wrong with you? I don’t fuck girls! I flirt with them, I can’t avoid it in the club, but I don’t fuck them! Why the fuck would I do that?”

Zak made an abrupt turn and stared at him with a frown. “What? But you... hump them, and go to the back with them.” He raised his hand and let it drop again.

Stitch sneered, fighting back the itching under his eyelids. “I don’t fuck girls,” Stitch repeated. “Are you blind? I’m a fucking fag. I’ve always been. I couldn’t even fuck my wife properly. Why do you think she divorced me? This is some bullshit!” He kicked the broken window and cracked the wood with his boot.

Zak let out a long breath, his mouth pressing into a thin like. “Why didn’t you say anything? You never said you were gay. How could I know that?” he asked in a small voice. “I thought... that we were just buddies.”

Stitch walked up to him and cupped Zak’s face, digging his thumbs into his warm cheeks. “I don’t like to talk about this kind of shit. There is no other option for me. Either you’re in, or you’re not. We’re not ‘buddies’ and we never were. We’re not friends, we’re not mates. I see you as a… lover. Someone to get close to, someone I can be myself with. If you need to
arrange
to be exclusive, then it looks like this dog was barking up the wrong tree.”

Zak opened and closed his mouth, his shining blue eyes looking straight into Stitch’s soul. “I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Stitch couldn’t help himself and stroked Zak’s cheeks with his thumbs. His heart was cut open, bleeding, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d never actually admitted he was gay to anyone, until now. Deep down he’d always known it, but saying it out loud made it that much more real.

“It’s about time to decide if you want to. I don’t do half-assed.”

Zak gasped and leaned forward, his eyelids dropping into that sexy, half-lidded look. “Being your
lover
?”

“Your
only
lover. I’m not gonna date a slut. Next time I catch you doing shit like this, it won’t be pretty.” Stitch whispered and slid his fingers to Zak’s jaw. He could feel the tender flesh shift beneath his touch, and Zak snorted.

“If I weren’t a slut, you wouldn’t have me, remember?”

Stitch took a deep breath, unable to organize his thoughts. “I like you being… enthusiastic. I just can’t share you, yeah?”

Zak smiled and gently stroked Stitch’s hands with his fingertips. “And do you think... you sucking me off and bottoming will arrive on the table eventually? I love what we do, but...” He shrugged and looked down at their feet. “I’m a guy too, you know.”

Stitch’s stomach clenched, and he curled his toes in his boots. “I want to be everything to you,” he said before he could give it proper thought. It was the truth though. That much he knew. No matter the heat his body had radiated before, now it got covered with cold sweat. His mind rushed back to when Zak fingered him. It was his mind that was against it, not his body. Probably.

Zak gasped, and his grip tightened on Stitch’s wrists. It was dead quiet, with just their breathing echoing under the high ceiling. “I’d like that. I can promise it’ll be good.”

Stitch didn’t know what to say. It was all too much. Maybe if it stayed a secret between them, it wouldn’t be all that bad? He was twenty-seven, if he wasn’t gonna do it now, then when? Instead of trying to choke out an answer, Stitch did what he came here for and pulled Zak into an embrace. He was so out of his depth, but Zak’s arms pulling him close against the safety of his shoulder were exactly what he needed. No one ever held him like that.

“Stitch?” whispered Zak against his ear as he stared at the wooden door of the closet. “Who did this to you?”

Stitch swallowed a hitched breath and gripped Zak’s T-shirt. “I had a bad night. All I wanted was to come home to you.”

Zak blinked rapidly and pulled Stitch close again. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll give you a bath, patch you up, does that sound good?” he whispered, petting the back of Stitch’s head. It was such a sweet gesture, full of familiarity. So different from the way Stitch's friends acted toward him.

Stitch nodded and gently kissed Zak’s ear, enjoying the tenderness no one else could give him. With Zak he could relax, not be so tough all the time. “I’d like that.”

Zak’s hands slowly trailed down his sides, and he entwined his fingers with Stitch, pulling him toward the bathroom. The house was silent, peaceful. Zak led him without putting on the light, and nothing was as soothing as the familiar sound of wood creaking beneath their feet. Zak’s hand was soft and smooth, and held him so gently as if he were afraid to hurt Stitch. It was only in the bathroom that the small flower-shaped lights brightened up the darkness, revealing the familiar pink tiles, artificial flowers in a vase, and a large corner tub.

Stitch threw his stained cut to the floor, and followed it with his jacket. He was too ashamed of his failure to look in the mirror and face himself. Still, he had to ask what lay so heavy on his chest. “Do you like Cox? You meet up with him?”

Zak pinched the bridge of his nose, pulling on the piercing. “I just told him to leave.”

“And you won’t see him again?” Sitch knew Zak seemed to have already agreed to that, but it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He pulled off his T-shirt and sneered at the bruise covering half his side.

Zak’s eyes went wide, and he brushed his fingers over the surface of the bluish flesh. “Did your friends do that to you?”

“No. We had a scuffle with someone else. Answer me.” Stitch ran his fingers along Zak’s forearm.

Zak sighed and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Stitch’s shoulder. “I promise not to see him,” he whispered. His hand reached down and unzipped Stitch’s pants but it was a practical gesture, not meant to arouse.

“Thank you.” Stitch took a deep breath, trying to focus on the now, not on the humiliating past or the violent future to come. “I’m sorry I look like shit.”

Zak shrugged and pulled off his own T-shirt. “I just hope you don’t need any stitches.”

“Nah, I don’t think I’m cut anywhere.” Except his bleeding pride. Stitch pushed his pants and briefs down before leaning in for a kiss, still smeared with blood and ketchup, with pieces of Smoke’s brain possibly tangled into his hair, sweaty. But Zak just opened his arms and gave him the sweetest smooch, brushing the back of his hand down Stitch’s chest.

“What about the hands?”

Stitch looked down at his hand, only remembering the cuts now. With all the things going on, the bleeding had gotten numbed out by his brain. He sneered at the numerous cuts on his fist and the blood dripping to the tiles. Fortunately none of them were all that deep.

Zak leaned over the huge tub, started the water, and climbed in as soon as he got rid of his boxers. Instead of settling down in the tub itself, he sat down in the inbuilt seat and looked up at Stitch, who climbed into the tub, groaning when he twisted his body in a painful way, but Zak’s fingers were there to comfort him.

“Relax,” whispered the deep, familiar voice straight into Stitch’s ear. Warm, tattooed arms slid around his neck until he had Zak’s chin resting on his shoulder. The warm water was pulling the exhaustion out of his body, letting him relax into his lover. Just like he had planned to, yet in different circumstances. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking of the one good thing that came out of this night. He set things straight with Zak, and Zak agreed to be his and his only.

Zak reached out, grabbed the showerhead, and very soon, hot droplets cascaded down Stitch’s face and back. He put his arms on Zak’s spread thighs and settled between them with his eyes closed. All he focused on was the now, the hot skin under his fingertips and the care his lover offered him.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” asked Zak, slowly untangling Stitch’s hair in the stream of water.

“I just want you to be here for me.” The last thing Stitch wanted was to involve Zak in club matters. “I lost a lot of cash today.”

Zak sighed, and the stream of water was replaced by a cold dollop of herby shampoo squeezed straight onto the top of Stitch’s head. “You weren’t gambling?”

“No.” Stitch gently picked at the hairs under Zak’s knee.

“Good.” Zak started slowly massaging the shampoo into Stitch’s hair, his fingertips sliding over the scalp, warming it up, rubbing Stitch’s nape, the sensitive skin behind the ears. “Do you need money?”

Stitch shook his head. “No, I’ll sort out my shit. It’s just so fucking annoying. Thank you.” He let his head fall back so he could look up at this angel in a demon’s body.

Zak smiled, his face relaxing into a blissful expression as he leaned down and kissed Stitch’s mouth. “You can tell me if you need anything, since now you’re mine and all that.”

A silly smile exploded on Stitch’s lips as they kissed. “I thought you can’t own people.”

“You can’t own them, this isn’t ownership. You want to be mine, told me so yourself,” muttered Zak into his lips.