It was nine o’clock by the time Gray pulled up outside his usual spot along the perimeter wall of his manor. Again it was already dark, and that lack of fear of the darkness had his gaze easing towards the woods. A security guard looked over the moment he’d parked, but no acknowledgement was given.
He needed peace, he needed quiet, if only for a little while, but his mobile phone didn’t let him find any.
You shut things down early last night. Before you even got to the party?
Gray briefly closed his eyes.
Trace.
Quiet, then— Brennan would say bringing Jan into this lifestyle is a bigger shit storm than arranging that party. You could’ve listened back then and avoided all of this.
Gray grunted a bitter smile. So Brennan was the one pushing the buttons.
Do you regret any of it? Trace asked. Letting Jan in, because—
Somewhere along the line, you fell in love with him, didn’t you? Gray frowned, then focused back on Trace’s message.
—it’s not your MO... letting anyone in except Jack.
No, Gray thumbed in. I don’t regret anything where Jan’s concerned.
Even with what they’ve been through?
Gray’s stomach twisted. And if Jan hadn’t been there? What then? It wouldn’t have changed what Jack’s mother had planned, not with who’s out there backing her, and Jan—
Whether Jan had known it or not, he’d thrown something into the mix that had unsettled them all, but something had needed unsettling. Gray had been used to formality where Jack was concerned; Jack had become stuck in routine: professional distance, however full of pretence they’d both pushed it to be. Jan set all of that off-balance, but had been there to pull them in close when they’d started to fall.
He was still there doing that despite everything he’d been forced to endure.
Jan what? replied Trace.
He’s staying where he is.
And you?
Gray glanced at the woods, just briefly.
You called not only Jack’s personal safe word but external security; and for a Master to call them.... Trace left that unfinished; he’d left it unfinished the day after Gray had told Jack and Jan to leave, when Gray had called and asked for time away from the MC, and he could have only have gotten that off Brennan.
What about you? came in again from Trace.
It was there, that need to bite back that: What the fuck about me? If Jan hadn’t been here, yes, he’d have trusted his instinct more, known something was wrong, hell even probably got Jack out of the fuckhole sooner. But the one element that still wanted to call out Jack’s safe word? The one element that still made him want to crawl back to home shores? If Jan hadn’t been here, Jack’s mother wouldn’t have needed two weeks to deconstruct Jack mentally and break him down. Because what they had before, all the formality, the rules, the routine, that fucking bullshit—there would have been nothing normal for Jack to hold on to. What did that make him as Master? What fucking right do I have talking as a Master, wanting to collar Jack, when it took the addition of another man to break all of that formal bullshit? He’d typed that before realising, and it was probably the first time he’d opened up away from Jack and Jan.
Easy... Has it worked?
Gray frowned at Trace’s message. What?
Whoring yourself out on cullin’ contracts instead of being with Jack and Jan over these past five months? Did goin’ back to professional distance make it hurt any less?
Gray rubbed at his temple. Fucking killed.
Trace was quiet for a moment, then, Maybe it was too soon for the MC’s offer last night, but it didn’t come from the Masters. You know that. It came from the pockets of the Doms Jack’s taught, from the subs he’s mastered, and from the Master’s subs themselves, Leif included.
Gray frowned a touch. Jack and Leif had trained together for Master-sub positions all those years back; Jack as Gray’s Master sub, Leif as Shaun Brennan’s. They were both so far apart in outlook and body: Leif and his long pale limbs ready to fit naturally into subbing, Jack... Jack with that gypsy look, trying to give the typical fuck you to dominance, but hiding so lousily that hug of Fuck yes, baby, c’mere, Sir, at the same time.
Most could only guess that something was seriously wrong when Jack had resigned from the MC a few months ago, but Leif, being Shaun’s collared sub, would have been told. The private venue had been his way to let Jack know he was in his thoughts, but to just take time with Jan, take it alone and slow and easy...
Have you told them yet, Gray?
Trace’s emails had been leading up to this. Gray knew that.
Have you told them both that you didn’t just walk away from Jack but also the Masters’ Circle? Have you told them you resigned as a Master with them?
Gray refused to reply for a minute. I’ll tell them when I know they’re ready to talk about the MC. That isn’t now.
And if Jack wants to get back into the lifestyle only with you... will you run from your lifestyle there too?
Fuck off, Trace. The harshness was meant that time.
So he’s mentioned something, said Trace. Okay, bright eyes. Failing Halliday, and failing the MC’s counselling, you come talk to me. And I mean talk. No cold messages via text and Instant Messaging anymore. If you talk to me, you make damn sure you pick up the phone. I’m here for you. Same goes with Jack and Jan.
Trace didn’t reply after that, neither did Gray, they’d reached a cut-off point that they knew shouldn’t be confronted over messages. As for the MC...?
It wasn’t the same. The MC hadn’t felt right since he’d forced Jack to leave. He’d instructed one scene since, but that had been from behind security cameras, with an experienced Dom trainer who had been chosen specifically so Gray knew he wouldn’t need much consultancy intervention.
That had been a week after Jack had been sectioned, and a day after that, Gray had been officially called away on culling business. Brennan hadn’t questioned if Gray had put out the call himself to... work. Shaun wouldn’t have liked the honesty to his answer: he didn’t want to be there. Jan had been right; a time out had been needed, but not because of Jack, because...
In the darkness of his Merc, Gray eased an elbow against the sill and covered his eyes, jaw tensing.
When he’s stripped bare, he’s lying next to you; he’s been under your touch.
Jan had said that back then. Only both of them had been missing from under his touch; and losing both of them had scarred a part of him he didn’t know had been left open as a wound.
Gray pushed out of the car and made it over to the wall before he threw up. Mostly he got to walk away from the damage, bypass the undercurrents that pulled people down. Now it didn’t go away, how he choked sickness as though lungs were still full with water and the drowning was internal. Arm resting on the wall, head down, breaths became deep, so deep. It had cost him Jack... Jan. The latter scarring his world too, because...
Because somewhere along the line, you fell in love with him too, didn’t you?
Gray stiffened as a rub came at his shoulder. He didn’t expect it out on the main road and his hand instinctively slipped to his sidearm.
“Easy, son.” Ed pulled him away from the wall a touch. “Let me get you back, eh?” He’d pulled the Rolls up next to the Merc, and the concern was there with how Gray hadn’t noticed. Ed had even had time to get out, come over, and touch.
“All those rooms in that manor,” said Ed, a hand resting on Gray’s throat, “and you’re still choosing to sit in your car?” Gray was eased away and back over to his Merc. “Call it a day now, okay? You’re still looking ill even after six months.”
Gray shut the car door, then waited for Ed to get in the Rolls and move off towards the security gates. Ed made the formal checks tonight, but Gray kept a close ear on what was being said. Eventually they were waved through, and Gray followed the Rolls up the long road to the cobbled courtyard.
Again the lights were on, offering that warmed welcome from autumn winds, but again, Gray turned the engine off and sat there for a moment. It took a knock on the window to gain his attention. A few months and it would be Christmas. Usually around now Jack would be leaving subtle-as-a-brick hints on how to bankrupt a millionaire, and yeah, fire the butler in the process; that or look for places to drag the land of soft and gullible around for possible Christmas tree hoists.
Only the manor remained as quiet as the interior of the Merc, all except that damn knocking on the windowscreen.
Gray gave a hard sigh and got out.
“Wait long enough and they say you hear it.”
“Hmm,” said Gray, glancing back at Ed as he locked his Merc. “What’s that?”
“Hen wlad fy nhadau” said Ed, twisting his own car keys in his fingers. “Land of my Forefathers. Are you sure you’re not missing those Welsh mountains, the roll of the sea, that rogue skinny-dipping you loved so much as a teen?” Ed tried a smile and added a few extra lines to his face. “You have that need to go home and get feral look about you.”
Gray snorted and an arm went around Gray’s shoulder, tugging him towards the manor’s entrance. “You’ve been around Jack too long,” said Gray.
“My point exactly. Let’s leave. Quickly. Before he notices.”
Gray raised a brow at Ed as they reached the entrance. “Stop it.”
“What?”
Gray eyed him up. “Just don’t.”
“What?” But he had been around Jack too long, and Ed broke into the very soft and ghost-like Welsh lyrics.
“Yeah, not working,” said Gray, although he buried a smile hearing the old man’s way of working his thick accent into the anthem. Everything about home was there in those dulcet tones. “Still not working.”
“No?” A flash of eye. “Then in English...” His voice became even softer.
“Oh look, the front door,” said Gray, pushing through. “Go in and shut the fuck up, shall we?”
Ed patted his stomach, throwing a wink over, and Gray went to follow him in, but stopped as something made Ed pause.
“Jack, my son.”
Christ. Jack jerked nearly to a halt as he came down from upstairs, the bacon sandwich he’d half-eaten stuffed in his mouth. “Hm.” Jack took a large swallow, his gaze slipping from the door, back towards the hall that would take him through to the kitchen. “I... I was just going to... kitchen. I was just gonna get a, a kitchen—coffee. A coffee in the kitchen.” And it seemed he’d melt through the floor to get there, if it got him away from Ed quickly enough.
“Coffee?” Ed took off his suit jacket and Gray found it handed back to him, typical hold my coat, he’s mine street fight sense. “You’re making me another one? How very... decent of you.”
“Oh...” Jack seemed to lose all fight to eat. “Hm. You too?” he said over to Gray, and the look there pleaded for Gray to say he needed to talk to Jack anywhere that didn’t include the kitchen just then.
Gray instinctively shifted, but a grip on his jacket off Ed stopped him. “My grandson needs to go and shower.”
“I do?”
“He does,” added Ed. “So coffee.” He went over to Jack and took Jack by the elbow. “How about we go make one? Unless you have a problem with us... making one?”
“Problem,” said Jack quickly, a little too quickly. “Made you one yesterday, dain’t I?”
“It was an attempt, yes. And considering I’ve hidden the antique bucket and melted down your ice dildo—your last attempt at... making something—you’re surely open to a few pointers from this old man.”
There was a painting not far from Jack, showing Owen Glendower in a rich velvet cloak, and Jack blended in beautifully with it just then. The blush had him looking at the floor and Ed grinning at him for it. “Oh, coffee, lad. I think I really need another coffee now.”
Jack scowled back at Gray as he was tugged toward the kitchen. Gray found the first stair and buried a grin. Jack wore loose black jogging bottoms with matching black sleeveless V-shirt, still looking like the thug led off to a cell, and his last look back said just that. Fuckable in every sense, in every wrong sense going, and Gray buried the rush seeing it.
Leaving the soft attempts at cursing drifting down the hall with Ed, Gray headed upstairs and into the East Wing. Ed’s jacket had been slipped in the closet downstairs, and Gray stripped out of his before he made it into his bedroom. He made the shower quick, needing to wash the weariness away, and opted for casual: black trousers, white shirt with the collar undone, no shoes, no socks. He started on the cuffs to his shirt, folding them back up to his elbows as he headed back towards the stairs, every intent of saving Jack, when the sound of body hitting water shifted his attention towards his pool.
Heading through the games’ room, he picked up how the snooker table held every whisper of Jack having been up here, not just with a few crumbs from white bread and the hint of bacon, but with all the too-carefully arranged snooker cues, then its balls in a perfect triangle. Gray always preferred the balls stored away after use, but Jack’s order meant that snooker tables came with snooker balls, therefore the one was ordered on top of the other.
There was a moment’s pause by the door when he caught just what the glass partition had let Jack watch as he’d played snooker. Jan came home roughly the same time each night, around six, a good hour or two before Gray, and Jan had taken to having a swim. From the look of how his arms cut through the water, it was one hell of a workout.
Gray glanced back, to the snooker table, then back to the door and the view it allowed of Jan.
How long had Jack stood there pretending to play, watching Jan just burn away?
Frowning, he pushed open the door to see Jan had come to a stop by the steps. Breathing heavy, his head was buried in the arms crossed on the edge of the pool. The soft lights set within the pool gave an eerie blue glow to the white columns standing watch alongside the pool, matched by the same colours over on the bar and calming life down a touch. Music played from the stereo, some slow-placed love song that seemed to keep Jan’s head down just as much, and keeping his footfalls away from the white water splash, Gray headed over to the bar and turned it off.
After pouring a whiskey for himself and slipping the cap off a bottle of beer for Jan, he went over and crouched down at the pool’s edge. “Here.”
Jan wiped the water off his face and looked up. “Thanks,” he said, taking the beer and downing a sip. Gray watched a drop of missed water run down his throat as Jan took a drink. Giving a smile, he took a sip of whiskey as he looked away.
“You eaten yet?” he said to Jan eventually.
Jan took another drink of his beer and nearly choked on it, causing Gray to frown at him. “I get back from each of Halliday’s visits and your grandfather’s taken to acting like warlock instead of witch from Hansel and Gretel, fattening me up with all sorts, including Jack’s share of the Danish Pastries.”
Gray snorted a soft laugh. “And Jack’s not gone into storm mode yet over it?” Gray eased up and took a large bath towel, seeing Jan shiver a touch. Jan didn’t move for a minute, just drank his beer, then looked away as Gray put his whiskey down and shook the towel out. Gray could see he’d been in the pool a while, fingers already going into grandfather mode on their own, but that look away from him had Gray holding the towel up and giving him his privacy as Jan finally heaved his slim form out of the pool. He took the towel, quickly turning away and slipping it around his waist. Then, taking his beer, he went over and grabbed a white housecoat. Gray took his whiskey off the floor and had a drink as Jan dried himself.
“Your session go okay?”
Jan looked up. “You know....” He shrugged. “Halliday noticed life had settled a little more.”
That sounded positive at least. Gray took another sip of whiskey.
“Why don’t you call Ed Grandfather?”
“Hmm?” He frowned at Jan. “Just a habit,” said Gray, and it won a curious glance over Jan’s shoulder.
“The dangers of using titles in public, and all that?”
It wasn’t, not really, but Jan had enough on his plate. With his whiskey finished and leaving a low heat in his stomach that took away the chill, Gray went over and placed the glass on the bar, close to where Jan was standing. He still hadn’t turned back yet, and as Jan’s cheeks and neck reddened now that Gray was close, Gray saw why.
“You know,” he said quietly as Jan looked down at the bar, “it’s okay to be scared that your body is starting to react.” Gray stroked a gentle touch down Jan’s arm as he shaped him a little closer from behind. Jan hadn’t hidden in the pool because he didn’t want to be seen; he’d hidden because he didn’t want heat to be seen. Gray could feel it in the way Jan chased his hand and brought it around his stomach, letting it rest just where the housecoat was open. Gray brushed at the bare skin and Jan sucked in a breath.
“Jan.” Gray brushed a kiss over the curve of his ear. “I can feel this...” He let his touch inch down farther, stopping every so often to see if Jan stopped him. When he didn’t, Gray finally came to rest with the flat of his palm on Jan’s lower stomach, just below the navel. It left Jan’s hard cock trying to strain through wet swimming shorts, up against the back of Gray’s hand; heat, hotness, and a different wetness needed to find some peace in the confines of his swimming shorts. “Talk to him.”
“We talk,” said Jan, looking sideways at Gray. “We talk about touching, about being comfortable, about taking it easy, saying time out, about Jack maybe getting back into BDSM... but...” A little anger set in. “I just can’t reach across the fucking table and tell him to shut the fuck up and look at me when he’s talking.”
Stroking at the toned skin on Jan’s lower stomach, his cock shifting with Gray’s touch, Gray kissed gently at Jan’s cheek. The fear in those soft brown eyes was to the core.
“What are you scared of?”
Jan’s head rested against his. “That he’s just talk. That he’ll run. I’ll touch; he’ll fall and hurt—”
“You?” Gray wiped at Jan’s cheek.
It was almost there; he almost admitted it, that fear that Jack would slip and—
“Martin,” said Jan. “It’s just, I’m....”
Gray shifted his hand away from Jan’s cock and brought his touch up to rest just under Jan’s jaw. “You don’t think he knows?” he said. “That he’ll fall and he’ll take you down with him?”
Jan glanced back sharply. “What’s he said?”
Gray gave a heavy sigh, then pulled away. “Okay,” he said as Jan turned around, looking a little confused.
“Come with me.” Gray flicked his head slightly towards the stairs.
“Why?” Jan didn’t join him for a moment. But when Gray carried on, he tidied himself up and came over. “Where are we going?”
“Kitchen,” said Gray, with a wink, as he opened the door for him.