Love & Stitches at The Asylum: Part Sixty-Seven
Happy Sunday, Asylum friends!
Here's the latest #NSFW installment. If you'd like to catch up and read the conclusion, all four installments are now available on e-book sites. <3
See you next week or online in the Asylum Facebook group!
Tibby and Bianca
*****
*****
It had been so long since he'd been at Tracey's alone, Curtis felt more than a little strange driving up the long, dark drive, with a couple of penguins beaking-out in the back of his SUV. He chuckled to himself at the pun, steering around the pothole that always seemed to appear in the gravel drive after the first-snow and mysteriously disappeared by spring when he came by to fill it in.
The night was cold and damp, with clouds edging out the moon on the horizon in a way that made the tall pines lurk, their bows sweeping the inky darkness until the farmhouse with its wide, welcoming wrap-around porch came into view.
Glancing to his cargo area, with the seats folded down, he placed the gear in PARK and turned off the engine. “I just want you two to know, I totally don’t want you to go back to some zoo where you have to fight for those mackerel scraps, but I will make damned sure you get names better than Laurel and Hardy.” He watched the birds waddle around each other, wings out, like they prepped for their roles as silent film stars. “How about Charlie and Chaplin?”
One of the penguins—he couldn’t tell which—ran headlong into the bars of the cage and fell backward into the other, knocking them both over like bowling pins.
“Smooth move. You okay, little buddy?”
There was, predictably, no answer, as the klutzy penguin stepped on the other’s face to Weeble its way to its feet. Looking at Curtis accusingly, it flapped its wings and groked at him. Which was probably penguin for ‘feed me right now, motherfucker.’
“Yeah, yeah. Everybody’s a critic.” Shouldering out of the SUV, he slammed the door shut and loped the short distance to the steps before he turned around to wave in the direction of Vani’s guys. “You need to get a tan, Gary! I see your pale ass from here!” Which, of course, he didn’t, but it had become a thing, and who was he to buck tradition? “I’ll bring you a beer when I leave!”
There was a creak, then a quiet curse as Coal slipped up behind him. “Almost had you. They’re not allowed to talk to us. You bring ‘em beer?” He brushed his dark red hair, tangled with bedhead, away from his face. “Whatcha doing here so late?”
“Hey there.” Grinning, Curtis held out his fist for a bump, going through the motions of the greeting he’d taught the kid back when Coal thought that stuff was cool. When they finished, he jerked his thumb toward his car. “Need a tux. Thought maybe Tracey could make me one since these guys are already wearing penguin suits.”
Coal’s eyes went wide. “For real? Dude, that’s fucking epic. Are they stuffed? Shit, that one’s totally moving.” Without waiting for an answer, the kid took off running for the car.
The front door opened, Tracey stepping out, dressed in a thick, fluffy purple robe, her gaze snapping from Curtis to Coal. “What are you doing outside? I’m going to let Rhodey nail your window shut again if you keep climbing out.” One arm rested on her very large stomach, she shook her head and sighed before looking at Curtis with a raised brow. “If you’re here this late, I have a feeling it’s not for hot cocoa and catching up.”
Curtis scrunched up his face, realizing he’d just interrupted the very much needed sleep of a woman who could probably K.O. him with one punch. She was Rhodey’s big sister, after all. Much as he loved the woman, he had no illusions about whose name should really be on the #1 locker at The Asylum.
“Hey, Tracey. You’re never going to believe this, but I was driving down to Albany, and this cage fell off the back of a truck.” He pointed toward the SUV, eyes wide. “It has the weirdest looking birds in it.”
That got him a shrewd look before Tracey walked past him, padding down the steps in her slippered feet. “I’m happy you haven’t gotten any better at lying to me, Curtis, but don’t try it.” She stopped as Todd rushed out of the house, his glasses askew as he trampled down the stairs, setting down her boots for her to step into. Her expression softened. “Thank you, my love. I’ll be up in a minute. Try to keep Ana from joining this impromptu party.”
From the porch roof, Ana’s voice lifted into the night. “You kidding me, mom? I got the best seats in the house.”
“Young lady, get back inside this instant.” Tracey turned on the walkway, both exasperation and amusement in her eyes. “You don’t want your father to have to climb up there after you and hurt himself again, do you?”
Putting one finger to her dimpled cheek, Ana tipped her head to one side. “Hmm... The blood was pretty...” Just as Tracey’s eyes narrowed, she giggled. “But, nah. I’m going.” She blew a kiss to Curtis. “G’night troublemaker.”
Curtis snorted, saluting her. “G’night, sweet stuff.”
Blowing him a raspberry, she scrambled back through the window with a thud.
“I’ll go tuck her in and secure the lock Avery put on the window last time he was here.” Todd pressed a soft kiss to Tracey’s lips, hovering a bit as she descended the last step. “I thought he was joking when he said we’d need it.”
Curtis snickered, still staring up at the roof. “Just wait until she starts dating.”
“I’ll be quite happy if we can get her to survive to puberty.” Todd gave Curtis a quick nod, no little pride in his eyes before he double-timed it back into the house, obviously more than familiar with juggling unusual issues with both the children he was raising.
Hand out, Tracey motioned Curtis to her side and took his arm. “I don’t need any more surprises, my darling boy. So you’re going to tell me exactly what I’ll be dealing with. And why. The truth.”
Tugging her closer so he could catch her quickly if she tripped on the drive in the shadowed darkness, Curtis twisted his mouth to one side, making a rueful face. “Don’t shoot the messenger?”
“You know very well I always put the blame exactly where it belongs.” Tracey patted his arm, making her way slowly, but steadily, over the gravel covered driveway. “Did my son do something incredibly foolish? I’ll make sure he doesn’t give you a hard time for telling me.”
Already shaking his head by the time Tracey finished her question, Curtis nudged his chin in the direction of The Asylum. Where its occupants were very lucky to be far, far away right now. Seth, you owe me, my man. He blew out a breath. “Seth bought abused penguins from a zoo for Wren.”
Tracey turned her head to stare up at him. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. Do you have any idea how regulated those animals are? The laws protecting them are international.” Even as she sighed, she didn’t look all that surprised. “More money than sense, that one. He must have greased some palms. I’m glad you brought them to me. It’s so unhealthy for them to even be here right now. They need a large group to survive.” She approached the van, making a sound of sympathy when Coal came out, covered in slick, smelly penguin poop. “These are not animals that can be kept as pets. The cleanup alone is…let’s just say it’s considerable. I’m going to call Vani. We’ll need her resources to get them to a place where all their needs will be met.”
“Uh... You’re not gonna tell on him to his boss, are you?” Curtis glanced from the penguin cage in the back of the SUV to Coal, and back to Tracey.
Making an unimpressed sound, Tracey shook her head. “No. I may not know everything you boys get up to, but I know enough that her questioning Seth’s mental capacities would not go well for him. I don’t ask her too many questions about the things she does. She’ll give me the same respect.” She glanced over at Curtis. “Bring them to the barn, I’ll do what I can to keep them comfortable until she can send someone. Mind the goats.” She gave a little nod, ushering Coal toward the house as the teen grumbled to himself. “And you will tell Seth to come pay me a visit. We’re going to have a chat, him and I.”
Laughing through his, “Yes, ma’am,” Curtis pressed the button on his keyfob that would open the SUV’s back hatch. The beep-beep and flare of lights reminding him, he called to Tracey, “Hey, I promised Gary a six-pack. You got any?”
“You do recall Rhodey is my brother?” Tracey chuckled, looking over at him as she reached the porch, removing her robe as Coal started stripping off his clothes and tossing them on the bottom step. She laid the robe over his shoulders, speaking to him softly before she returned her attention to Curtis. “He comes every couple of mornings to help with chores around the farm. I make sure he has breakfast. Go ahead and take some, I’ll send Todd for another case tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I owe ya.” The way the porch light illuminated Tracey made her seem a decade younger, and the dark blond braid that swayed as she moved prompted Curtis’ smile as he gestured with the lifted penguin cage. “You’re looking really good, Trace. Thanks for your help with everything.”
“Always, sweetheart.” Tracey put her arm around Coal’s shoulders and smiled at Curtis, the look in her eyes the one that told him he was special to her and he better not ever doubt that. “Get going. I don’t want you around when Vani gets here. She won’t hesitate to question you.”
Carrying the cage toward the barn on the path that was so familiar to him he literally could walk it in the dark, Curtis chuckled. “What’s she gonna do? Take a jet?”
Tracey’s laughter trailed from the house right to him. “Yes. More than likely. But she’ll drive the rest of the way. As she likes to say, she has manners.”
I’ve met the woman. What you call manners, I call fucking terrifying.
Leaving that one to himself, Curtis nudged the electric barn door opener with his elbow when he reached the red and white structure he’d painted so many times that he dreamed of it some nights. The lights flickered on automatically, animals in their pens and stalls grumbling and rustling at having their sleep disturbed. Setting the cage down near the dog door where it’d be cooler, he made sure the locking mechanism on both the cage and the dog door were tight before he gave Fran and Ollie—nope, those names didn’t work either—an imaginary tip of his hat and penguin waddled out of the barn with his bent elbows stuck out at his side before he secured the door behind him.
In the dark again, he loped to the distant structure and slipped through the back door to grab a six pack out of the drinks fridge in the three season room before he tugged the door closed behind him and ran to the guest house that had once been his home with Noah and Lawson, where he left the six pack on the edge of the porch for Gary to find.
Then trotted back to the SUV again.
Which stunk like digested and eliminated fish.
“Oh, fucking gross, Seth. I am going to punch you in the nuts.” Rolling down the window, he gagged, making a face. “Only time in my life I wished for a nose and mouth full of fucking soap.”
Halfway down the drive, the SUV shuddered, choked, and...inexplicably...died. Gaze narrowed, Curtis checked the fuel gauge, then the battery light. Both were fine. Grumbling, he sank lower in the seat, and unholstered his gun, replacing it with the handheld paint gun he kept in the glove box.
“You wanna piece-a me?” Doing his best DeNiro imitation, he called out through the open window.
There was a soft chuckle, but it was impossible to tell from which direction it came. Or where Rhodey was when he spoke. “If you’re into that kind of foreplay, I’m game. I’ll be using real bullets, though.”
“Oh, shit. You’re not Gary.” Laughing, Curtis set the paint gun on the seat.
Rhodey grunted, stepping out of the shadows, arching a brow at him as he approached the driver’s side of the SUV. “No. I don’t think Gary would take a belt to your ass like I will, but I could ask him. He seems pretty open-minded.”
The delicious thrill of arousal and fear flooding his gut made Curtis laugh again. This time, the sound came out hesitant, unsure. Very fucking nervous. In all the hubbub he’d completely forgotten who’d won him. Or what kind of play the man might be capable of.
Scratch that.
Is definitely capable of.
If Noah was the Mt. Everest of Doms, Rhodey was fucking Mt. Olympus.
“I was planning on beating you before. You didn’t need to wake up my pregnant sister, and my son, in the middle of the night to give me another reason.” Rhodey opened the door to the SUV. “And to top it off, Avery’s baby sister? I’d admire the overachievement if I hadn’t been spending the last hour trying to figure out where the hell you planned to take off to next.”
Staring up at the man through the open door was like staring up at a brick wall. Now he knew how Fortunato felt before he got bricked up in that basement for insulting his host. “Um... They were hungry, but the pet store wasn’t open, and the alarm was tricky.”
“You are aware when someone does something stupid, you don’t have to throw in with them, yeah?” Rhodey reached out, hooking his fingers to the collar of Curtis’ sailor suit shirt, jerking him to his feet. “I want to play a game, since I went to all this trouble. You have two options. Pull down your pants and bend over so I can see how nice and red my belt can make your ass.” He smirked as he released Curtis. “Or run. I like that option better, but it’ll hurt more.”
Curtis’ dumbass feet made like the Roadrunner on instinct alone. Fight or flight? Where fight wasn’t an option? Flight. Every time. He knew these woods, knew the pathways that would make the most noise and those that would lead him to a dead end. Emphasis on ‘dead’. His brain didn’t need to engage where instinct and muscle memory were more than enough. Branches that would’ve slapped his face and given him away, he ducked, then jumped lightly over logs and used other trees to propel him forward, his hands gripping the rough bark as he swung and sprang down several yards ahead of where he would’ve otherwise been.
A bit to the left, where there hadn’t been a sound before, Rhodey let out a soft laugh. “Not bad, but fuck you’re noisy. Other direction before you end up in the ravine. I won’t fuck you with a broken leg. The angle wouldn’t be very good.”
Never one to obey orders well—and because the ravine and its zip line were exactly where he’d been headed—Curtis doubled down on his speed. If Rhodey knew where he was, no sense staying quiet.
The dark chasm loomed overhead, the T-bar he’d set up to do ropes course work with Coal glinting in a sliver of fleeting moonlight. He ran all out, reaching to jump for the bar without stopping. The momentum yanked his shoulder joints as he stopped suddenly, then the earth fell out from under his feet when the bar lived up to its name and zipped forward along the steel cable.
Abruptly, he was jerked to a stop and given the kind of wedgie that made his ass and spine feel like they might actually fuse together. Lifted up and shaken so his grip was worked away from the bar, he found himself up in the air. Then down in the dirt, Rhodey leaning over him.
Clucking his tongue, Rhodey gave him a bit of relief as he undid Curtis’ pants and dragged them down to bare his ass. He dropped one heavy foot down in the center, using the material to restrain Curtis’ legs. “Nice try. Next time, I might let you go a bit longer, but the running away started in the bar. And I gave you one hell of a head start.”
Just like old times, Curtis’ mouth moved before he could check its ID at the door and declare it underage. “I almost had you.” He held up his right hand, where his leather cuff warmed his wrist, his thumb and forefinger a fraction apart. “This close.” Craning his neck around, he looked up at Rhodey with a wide grin. “I wasn’t running. Until now.”
“Good to know. I’m a big fan of consent and that means you were all in for this.” Sliding his belt from the loops of his black jeans, Rhodey folded the thick leather in half. “I’m not going to lie. I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”
Licking his lips, Curtis nodded, his throat dry but his body responding with all kinds of fucked up interest to what Rhodey had on tap. “Yes, sir.” Fisting his hands, he breathed deep, reveling in the scent of the dried leaves and mud, the pine needles prickling his skin where his hip bones ground into the dirt. “Me, too.”
“Good boy.” Foot still on Curtis’ pants, Rhodey bent down a little, brushing his hand over the curve of his ass. “Up a bit. It’s dark and I wouldn’t want to hit that hard head of yours.”
Curtis moved into the touch Rhodey offered. “Like this, sir?”
“I need you present, my boy.” Taking a knee, Rhodey curved his hand under Curtis’ jaw, lifting him enough to cover his mouth and take in every bit of air he had in his lungs. Maybe a bit more. With a pressure that let him taste his own blood on the other man’s lips, Rhodey didn’t just claim his mouth, he left not a single doubt that in this moment, he owned Curtis right down to his soul. “It hurts so much better when you’re right here with me.”
Fingers clawed in the dirt, Curtis dug in. Pinpoint awareness focused him down to his marrow on the man who commanded his obedience. His submission. There wasn’t anything he needed to do, other than be right there, taking as much as his Dom wanted to give.
He panted. “Please...”
“There we go.” Rhodey pushed to his feet, giving Curtis no warning as he laid the belt across his ass. Once, then twice, the impact jarring him, flooding his skin and nerves with an abrupt, stinging pain and heat. “If you don’t complain, I’ll make it hard for you to walk for several reasons. Just to give you a head’s up, Danny can take this much without too much whimpering.”
For pain sluts like himself, who fed on the leash being yanked, and yanked hard, Curtis sometimes wondered if there was a limit to his ability to suffer for a Dom who loved impact play. Ass pressing higher, to give Rhodey a clearer target, he cushioned his cheek in the dirt, eyes wide open, just to watch the menacing lift, snap, and arcing release of the belt and the man who wielded it. Dick jerking with each stripe Rhodey laid on his flesh, he let the fire feed his arousal, even as his nerve endings shouted at him to move away from the crack of the strap.
“Fuck, I like you like this. Such a good boy.” Rhodey knelt down behind him, digging his fingers into the marks he’d left. “I promised Lawson I wouldn’t break the skin, otherwise, I might have left you some longer lasting marks. These are very pretty, though.” There was the toothy sound of a zipper, then a wrapper, as Rhodey prepared himself. “I think, this first time, I’ll let you come. I haven’t decided yet, so don’t get too excited.”
Hearing his own whimper, Curtis focused on the heat that radiated off his Dom from even this bit of distance. Having Rhodey covering his body, fucking into it? Was going to set him ablaze. He felt the warning shot of precome that would drool in a long thread to the forest floor.
“Too late for that.” He chuckled, breaths coming hard. “Already excited, sir.”
Rhodey huffed out a laugh, gripping Curtis’ hip and driving in deep. There was lube, the slickness eased the way, but not much. Not with how hard Rhodey claimed his prize, fucking Curtis like he’d had a right to do just that all along. His hips snapped against Curtis’ ass, angled in a way to stimulate all the right places, pitching him close to the edge, but drawing back just in time to keep him from soaring over.
The rhythm changed abruptly before it resumed. Making an irritated sound, Rhodey continued the pace even as he pulled out his phone, putting it on speaker and laying it on the center of Curtis’ back. “What is it, Jacks? If Keiran threw something at you, you probably deserved it. We discussed this already.”
Jacks’ voice was breathless with fear as it came over the line. “Seth pulled a gun on Wren. Wren bit his jugular.”
“I should have had everyone clear what fucked up games they were playing with me before I let anyone out of my sight.” Rhodey gritted his teeth, drawing out of Curtis and giving his ass a light smack. “Show me how well you can pull yourself together and I’ll continue once we bury any bodies. Sooner if there aren’t any.”
Stumbling to his feet, Curtis yanked up his sailor pants at the same time, barely noticing the burn with his thoughts focused on Wren. He trotted alongside Rhodey through the woods, his own footfalls making a racket compared to Rhodey’s which were silent.
Away from the phone, Jacks called something out that sounded like, “Keiran. Listen to Shea. Stand the fuck down.” Then more clearly, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s not fucking funny.”
“Talk to me, Jacks.” All the humor was gone from Rhodey’s tone as he got in behind the wheel, motioning for Curtis to climb in on the passenger side. “Seth wouldn’t shoot Wren. He knows he’d lose both his boys in retaliation, aside from the fact that he wouldn’t do that to Jared. What the fuck is happening?”
Curtis buckled himself in and shut the door at the same time, the vehicle moving even before he accomplished either.
Panic made Jacks speak fast, his voice shaking. “Quint is trying to get the bleeding to stop and Keiran has his gun on Quint. It’s...” He muttered something that sounded like a prayer. Then there was a thud, his phone clattering away.
“Fucking Christ.” Rhodey kicked down on the gas, jerking the SUV off the road and through someone’s field. “Someone better get on that fucking phone.”
Quiet and a lot calmer, Wren’s voice came over the line. “I apologize, sir. Jacks tried to tackle Keiran. He’s sleeping now. Keiran won’t put down his gun, but I don’t think he’ll shoot anyone by accident…” His voice moved away. “Shea, please move Jacks out of harm’s way. I’m all right. I bit Seth…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him. He…told me to…” He sounded a bit shaken now. “...to react. And I did. It was too real for a moment. I trust him. Jared trusts him. But right then I wasn’t thinking of that. I don’t want him to die.”
“Hey, Freaky Friday.” Wishing he could reach out to stroke Wren’s hair away from his forehead and look into his big brown eyes, Curtis reached toward the phone like he might be able to touch him through it. “Can you get behind something? You know, like I and Jared and Noah taught you?”
There was quiet, then a whisper from Wren. “I can’t, sir. A nurse knows how to react in an emergency. Quint needs a medkit. But I have to make sure Keiran doesn’t shoot him. He’s not listening to reason right now. He still thinks I’m in danger.”
“Keiran… Wren, put the phone on speaker.” Rhodey swerved to avoid a few bales of hay, the SUV rocking hard as he maneuvered through a ditch and onto the road on the other side. “Keiran, listen to me. Quint is part of our team. He is not a threat. Lower your weapon and help Wren get the supplies he needs. You can stand watch, but I’ll be really pissed if you kill anyone.”
Unlike Keiran had ever sounded in the past, except on the night when he’d come back from carrying Wren through the snow, the sub’s voice was shaky and distant. “No, sir. I can’t do that. Wren is covered in blood. He’s…he’s moving. He’s okay. I’ll make sure he stays that way.”
Taking out his own phone, Curtis held it up. “I can call Lawson.” It would absolutely suck to put him in the middle of this shit, but someone had to get the damned kit. “He’s with Dallas.”
Giving him a dry look, Rhodey shook his head. “Your Dom does not need to be involved. I did mention not wanting more bodies?” His tone went hard. “Keiran I need you to pull yourself together. Guard Wren. Get that kit. Now.”
“I… Yes, sir.” Keiran’s voice broke. “I’m—”
“Don’t. We’ll work through this later. I know.” Rhodey’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You get to feel things. But you will put them aside and do your job. I know I can count on you, my boy.”
Holding his breath, one hand on the ‘oh shit’ strap above the door, Curtis sent a prayer to the fuckers upstairs. Thinking of the penguins and how excited Seth had been to make the snow for Wren, it seemed like exactly the kind of thing the feathered shitheads who flitted around blowing horns would find amusing if Seth were to bite it.
There was a rustling sound, then Wren’s voice came back over the speaker. “I’m getting the medkit. Quint asked for some blood, too. I feel a bit better, knowing it will be mine. Not much better, though. Seth worked so hard to make this a nice night. I’ll find a way to make it up to him.”
“Yes, you will. But don’t focus on that now, Wren.” Rhodey spun the SUV onto the road leading to The Asylum. “I don’t give a fuck what you think, or what anyone says. You felt threatened, in any way, and you reacted. I tell that to my boys all the time. It’s why I was proud of Keiran when he managed to put a knife through my hand.” He grinned as he turned into the opening gates, pressing a button on the dash to time his entrance, then pressing it again to close them behind him. “Think of it this way. Seth will get through this and get some comfort out of knowing you can defend yourself against someone on his level.”
Jumping out of the vehicle practically before it stopped rolling, Curtis headed toward the stairs at the back of the building. He felt more than heard Rhodey on his heels as he opened the fire exit door on the top level and swung around to go up the stairs to the roof. He stepped aside at the last second so Rhodey could go through the door before him.
On his knees by Seth’s side, Quint compressed the wound at the curve of Seth’s shoulder, blood covering his hands and melting the snow beneath them. He spoke in a steady voice, though tears streamed down his cheeks. “I have you, sir. You don’t get to make the decision this time. I’m not letting you go.”
Pale as the snow he lay in, Seth didn’t respond. Recalling the moments when he wondered if he’d lost Lawson, Curtis’ own heart stuttered. He stood by, helpless now, just as he’d been then, to do a damned thing.
The door to the roof opened, Keiran half carrying Wren and the medkit, setting Wren on his feet and sticking close as Wren hurried to Quint’s side. Not looking up, Quint directed Wren in handing him everything he’d need, hesitating for a moment before he guided Wren in setting up the IV and the blood supply.
“Curtis, go get a stretcher. I’ll need you to help me move him down to the clinic.” Quint looked up from where he’d applied the pressure bandage. “Please hurry. I have him stable, but he’s going to need more blood and a sterile environment. We’re not…we’re not on a battlefield. There’s no need to risk infection.”
“On it.”
Jogging back the way he’d come, using the outside of the building as the most direct route—and the least likely to get him noticed if anyone was wandering around the club—Curtis moved swiftly past the maze that had been set up for Wren’s party. Through the door into the clinic. The sterile scent of the space stung his nostrils. He flinched as he noticed the filth covering his hands, and under his nails. After pausing for a moment to pull on sterile gloves, he grabbed the stretcher and returned the way he’d come.
“Thank you.” Quint looked from him to Rhodey, Shea—who was giving Jacks’ cheeks light slaps to wake him up—then Wren, as though questioning if he had a single ally among them. Glanced at Keiran, who was a step behind where Wren was holding up the blood bag. He inhaled roughly, closing his eyes, his lips moving as though he was praying. “Wren, keep the bag elevated. Curtis, get Seth’s legs. Rhodey, can you please get out the warming blanket? I want to bring his temperature up slowly.”
Crouching by Seth’s feet, something black and metal caught Curtis’ attention. The magazine, presumably to Seth’s gun, lay half-buried in the snow that still fell from the sky like the party hadn’t gotten the memo to close down the kegger and go home. Leaving it, he gently lifted Seth’s legs onto the stretcher with Quint doing the heavy work at the top.
Once Seth was on the gurney, Rhodey having covered him with the warming blanket, Quint directed them toward the stairs. Shea held the door open for them, his other arm around Jacks, half holding his dazed partner up.
Moving alongside the stretcher, Wren spoke in a whisper. “I… Quint, I’m sorry. I wish I could—”
“We take care of the patient, Wren.” Quint’s tone was hard as he carried his end of the stretcher, keeping pace with Curtis on the way down. “The only mistakes that matter, right now, are the ones we will avoid making on the operating table. Scrub in as soon as we get to the clinic, I’ll need you to assist.”
Sharing a glance with Shea, Curtis kept his end of the gurney level. His next glance was for Wren, his nod one of reassurance. “You’ve got this, Nurse Raven.”
Wren gave him a shaky smile, using his free hand to rub Seth’s arm. “I should have been clearer with him. It’s the Doms who are supposed to mark the subs. Next time, we’ll do this the right way. It was going very well after the thing with the penguins. Are they all right? Will Tracey be able to get them somewhere that they’ll be happy?”
Nodding again, Curtis walked backward into the clinic as Rhodey held open the door. “Tracey lit up the Bat Signal, and Vani’s flying in on her broom to get them to safety.”
After letting them pass, Rhodey turned his attention to Jacks, hauling him up on the first exam table while they continued on to the better equipped room in the back. He nudged Jacks’ chin to one side, letting out an impressed sound. “My boy can land one hell of a punch. I told you to be careful. Next time, listen.”
Wincing, Jacks sunk down a bit. His wig sat lopsided on his head, his eyeshadow smeared off one eye but still nearly pristine on the other. “I’m more than a pretty face. I can hold my own in the ring. That move should’ve worked.”
“You weren’t in the ring. And if that kind of move worked, Keiran would be dead several times over.” Rhodey firmly pressed against Jacks’ shoulder until he laid back on the pillow, paper rustling under him. “Get him some ice, my boy. And stop jumping at shadows. Mission over. It was a success. No graves to dig. Yet.”
Keiran tensed, meeting his Dom’s eyes before spinning around—nearly bumping into Curtis, who’d reacted at Rhodey’s ‘Get him some ice, my boy’, directive—and opening the ice drawer to get a frozen gel pack. He stepped up to Jacks, holding out the ice pack. “Sir, I wish I hadn’t had to do that. Here. I hope you feel better soon… I was having fun, before…”
Taking the ice pack, Jacks stared at Keiran for a moment before giving him a nod of respect. “You need to get in the ring. That was some punch.” He pressed the pack to his own jaw, scowling a little, then wincing. “But not until I do some training with Lawson.”
“And here I was, about to offer to help you out.” Rhodey huffed, brushing his hand over Jacks’ hair. “Lawson is a good choice, though. You come see me after and I’ll make sure our boys don’t fuck you up when you’re supposed to be fucking them.”
That earned Rhodey a bark of laughter from Jacks, the Dom melting toward him a little and meeting his gaze with deep green eyes that had graced more than a few magazine covers. “I think we all get a raincheck.” He included Curtis with a tip of his head. “Looks like you might’ve actually gotten what you came for with this one though.”
“Not nearly what I intend to take, but he’s mine all night.” Rhodey nudged his chin at Curtis. “Get him a blanket and tuck him in. I’ll keep an eye on him for a bit before we street him. Or loft him. Whatever, I don’t get doctor lingo.”
Peeling off the gloves, Curtis tossed them in the trash, then pulled on another pair before he went to the blanket warmer. Something he’d seen Jared, Quint—and even Wren—do what felt like hundreds of times. The pile of thin, white blankets radiated a soothing warmth on his arms as he took two and brought them over to Jacks.
“I’ve always found them a little too thin, sir.” Blushing a little at calling Jacks by the honorific, he avoided meeting his and especially Shea’s eyes as he flicked out first one and then the other to tuck around the man’s lean, muscled thighs.
Pacing along the other side of the bed, Shea observed him spreading the blanket, stopped to look at Jacks’ jaw, adjusting the ice pack against it, then started pacing again. “Aren’t there rules around here? Written ones? No fucking biting or punching Doms? I’m on the fucking Board now, so if there aren’t, there will be. We should have tied them all up. Feral fucking bunch.”
Rhodey’s lips quirked as he watched Shea. “Yes, they are. Including the one we share. Or do you forget he shot someone for you?”
Folding his arms over his chest, scowl deepening, Jacks let the pack fall away from his jaw. “It would be nice if we could all talk things out once in a while.”
“Tell that to your third coffee table in a month.” Rhodey patted Jacks’ thigh. “Face it, my man. We’re fighters. So are our subs. Even the cute little ones. Sometimes, that means a few extra bruises than planned. It leads to better conversations in the morning than the weather.”
Curtis leaned his hip against the counter behind himself and yelped, jumping away when the bruises Rhodey had marked him with lit a line of fire down his right ass cheek. “Sonofa...” He rubbed lightly, then ducked down to grab a couple ice packs from the cooler to slip down his underwear, and sighed happily as the cool hit his skin. “That’s better.”
“Here.” Appearing at his side, Wren held out a small tube. “This will help. I don’t like using it, but Noah puts it on Jamie the rare times he gets the cane. Excuse me, I need more blood.”
Taking the tube, Curtis studied it, absentmindedly nodding his thanks to Wren. “If you’re that hungry, I can get you a pretzel, Nurse Fang.”
Wren shook his head, gently nudging Curtis out of the way and bending down to take a bag of blood out of the fridge. He frowned as he looked in. “I need to restock. Can you get me some grapefruit juice, Curtis? That should keep me from getting lightheaded.”
Saluting Wren with the tube, Curtis looked to Rhodey. “Permission for a brief shore leave, Captain?”
“You are a very strange man, Curtis.” Rhodey chuckled, reaching out to unclip Curtis’ cuff. “I’ll put this back on you once things are settled. Or not. You’ll submit to me either way. But I need someone else in charge.” He frowned as Wren handed the blood bag to Keiran and went to a different storage closet to pull out a machine and a container of tubes and needles. “You’re doing that now, Tweetie? Do you know how it works?”
Wren nodded, sitting down on a stool and drawing out a pair of scissors to cut his shirt. “Yes, sir. I’ve studied.”
“What’s it do?” Curtis, one hand on the clinic door to the gym, cast a worried glance at Wren.
Tying off his upper arm using an elastic and his teeth to tighten it, Wren didn’t answer until he’d finished setting himself up. “It will avoid the issue you had with my blood. We are much better equipped now, sir.”
“When’s the last time you donated? I haven’t in a while.” Knowing Wren felt responsible for what had happened, Curtis hesitated to let him poke himself without checking.
“Sir, please?” Wren spoke softly, holding his gaze with a pleading one of his own. “I need to do this. The juice will be enough. I’ll be careful.”
Curtis looked to Rhodey, knowing the man had Jared’s full confidence and more common sense than all of them put together. “Tell me when you donated last, and how much, Wren.”
Jaw tightening stubbornly, Wren wiped his arm with an alcohol swab. “It’s been several weeks. I am in good health, sir. He needs it.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him, my man. Go get that juice.” Rhodey lowered his brow at Wren. “If he needs more than one bag, Curtis is tapping in. You’re both universal donors. We use all our resources, my sharp beaked little hawk.”
“Yes, sir.” Wren pulled on some gloves, apparently satisfied with the arrangement. He gave Curtis a small smile. “Get yourself some juice too, sir. Just in case.”
Mayhem and chaos were old friends that allowed Curtis to remain steady as he rode the odd mix of stress and sex endorphins, jogging to the bar to get the juice. He glanced at the ugly metal bar clock, noting the time was close to three a.m. Whatever remained of the night would be spent on clinic duties, watching over Wren, and hanging out with Rhodey and Keiran—who the Dom would undoubtedly not want to leave alone after the evening’s events.
Oddly, or maybe not so oddly, he was good with that. There was something reassuring knowing that, even amid the hard stuff, they were all a fluid unit. They adapted, forming and reforming bonds—strengthening them—in ways that allowed wounds, both psychological and physical, to not only be survivable but to heal. To make something stronger.
The Core would come out of this better than they went in. Even more than he looked forward to the fun they always found together, this was the part of their relationships that jazzed him the most. He smiled to himself, flexing his glutes just to feel the ache in his ass as he leaned over to grab an armful of juice boxes from the galley fridge. Yeah, he was going to be feeling this for a while to come. Both the bruises and the connection with a man who likely had no idea how much he’d come to mean not just to Curtis.
And as long as he had any breath left, he would be on a mission to make sure Rhodey knew he was more than a merc and their savior. He was a badass mofo with a marshmallow center. Loved. Cherished. Seen. And perhaps most important, family.
In every sense.
To them all.
Comments
Post a Comment