Chapter 10
TEN
HAVOC
I’m in a shit mood when I get back to the casino.
I’d stopped by my mother’s house, and once again, she’d pretended that everything was fine . Would I like some tamales? Or a drink?
Never mind the obvious bruising on her arm.
I wish I had doors to slam, but the casino operates with revolving doors, automatic doors, or those doors that slow the movement. It’s like Caleb went out of his way to ensure all the doors are un-slammable.
I’m ready for a few drinks, even though I know getting drunk will bar me from seeing Seven tonight.
He doesn’t need to see me like this anyway.
I steer clear of the blackjack tables and head toward the bar. I do a double-take when I see Seven sitting at the counter, sipping on what looks like a fruity cocktail. His eyes are glued to the TV screen suspended in the corner, currently advertising tonight’s MMA fight.
“Seven?” I ask, confused. “What are you doing here?”
“Watching TV,” he says, glancing at me with a smirk. “All of you keep harping on me about doing something other than playing blackjack, so… Here I am.”
The way he says it, it’s clear there’s more to it. I get closer, crowding his personal space. “So, you’re still banned from blackjack?” I tease.
His smirk turns into a scowl. “I’m not banned ,” he mutters. “I just have to slow down.”
In other words, I’m willing to bet Caleb cut the amount he’s able to spend by at least half.
I turn my attention back to the TV screen, which is now advertising the casino’s gambling app. I had it installed on my phone for a while, but realized after I’d lost a few hundred bucks that it was a bad idea to keep it.
It’s probably a good thing Seven doesn’t know enough about technology to download new apps.
“Are you betting?” Seven asks.
I turn my attention back to him. “Betting? On what?”
“The fight.” Seven takes a sip of his colorful drink. “Everybody’s been talking about tonight’s M-M-A fight.”
He says the letters slowly, like he’s not sure he’s getting them right.
I shrug. “Nah. I like watching mixed martial arts , but I’m trying to cut back on the gambling thing.”
“Mixed—” Seven seems to catch on to what I’m talking about. “Oh. Yeah. M-M-A. And the gambling thing.” His expression is sour, and he takes another big gulp from his drink.
I eye it, wondering if he got the bartender to add alcohol or if Caleb’s ban on it is still outstanding.
He catches me looking at the drink and rolls his eyes. “It’s a drink, Havoc. It doesn’t even have alcohol in it. The bartender—” he scowls at the woman behind the bar “—wouldn’t give me anything else.”
“So, since you’ve been watching, what can you tell me about the fight?” I ask, motioning the bartender to get me a drink too. She rolls her eyes, but hands me my usual Mexican beer. Maybe that’s a cliche, but I do think it tastes better than the American brands.
He launches into an animated summary of the fight that will take place tonight, gesturing with his hands. It’s surprising to see him so into something like this, but at the same time, it’s nice to see him show interest in anything but card games and sex.
It gives me an idea of how to wash away some of my anger, at least. “You want to watch it live?” I ask, already pulling my phone out. “I’m sure there are empty seats.”
Seven tilts his head, biting his bottom lip as he considers. “Do you think it’ll be too crowded?” he asks cautiously. “I mean… I want to.”
I text Caleb and tell him Seven needs two tickets to the fight. “It’s a weeknight and the fighters aren’t big names. There’s bound to be open seats.” My phone buzzes again, this time with two tickets sent to my email. I hold it up for Seven to see. “Courtesy of Caleb.”
He cracks a smile. “Nice having connections, huh?” he says, but he nods. “Okay. I think it’ll be fun. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
I put a few bills on the bar counter for the bartender, then put my arm around Seven. “Yeah. I’ve only seen a few fights live. I usually couldn’t justify the cost of the ticket.”
“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that,” he says with a grin, though it falters. “I hope it’s not coming out of my allowance, though.” He sighs. “It probably will. Caleb’s looking for any excuse to get me to stop playing, and I don’t…” He makes another frustrated sound.
I squeeze his shoulders as I lead him away from the bar. “Gotta learn moderation, Seven. Quit while you’re ahead and all that.”
“But I’m never going to get ahead if I have to quit when I’m almost there,” he complains, but he shakes his head. “Never mind. You don’t understand.”
I know more about gambling than Seven does, but I don’t want to spoil the night by arguing with him. I’ve had enough arguing for the day, and if I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop short of punching another wall.
I wince, remembering that night. “Hey, Seven…” I say, faltering. “About that time—at my place, I mean. I wanted to say?—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seven interrupts, sounding impatient. “I keep telling you, I like it rough.”
Would he have told me if he didn’t actually want it, though? I’m not sure.
“It was good,” he goes on, flashing me a smile. “I like it when you leave bruises and make it so I think of you every time I sit down.”
My face heats up, and yeah, I like that too. “I don’t want to be the kind of guy who forces people,” I answer quietly.
Seven scowls at me. “You didn’t force me. You’d never force anyone. Maybe you get a little rougher than some people like, but you’re not the kind of guy who’d do that. And I like it, so stop beating yourself up.”
We reach the fighting ring, and I direct Seven to our seats.
“Yeah, okay,” I answer quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. My mom…” I trail off, though, because I don’t actually want to talk about her. “Never mind. You want a snack or something?”
He shakes his head. “No, I ate a little while ago. I wouldn’t mind something real to drink…” he wheedles, flashing me an innocent smile.
“Yeah, no way.” I smile at him and press a kiss to his temple. “You know the rules.”
He grumbles. “It’s a stupid rule.” He starts to say something else, but activity in the octagon catches his attention. We’d gotten here at the last minute, and we don’t have to wait long for the announcer to begin.
Seven is engrossed in the introductions, leaning forward in his seat, and instead of watching the fight, I find myself watching him instead.
It’s nice to see him engaging in something, even if it’s as meaningless as a match. He gasps loudly when one of the fighters goes down, and quietly cheers from his seat when the guy gets up again.
“Did you see that?” Seven asks, exhilarated.
I smile at him. “Yeah. I bet I could take both of them, though.”
He laughs. “Maybe you should try. I could see you in the cage, roughing someone up like that. It would be hot. And I’d take care of you after…” He bats his eyelashes at me.
I poke his stomach, grinning. “No way. I don’t like how orderly these fights are. If I’m kicking ass, there will be no rules.”
Seven hums, and he starts to speak, but then his eyes focus on something and his cheeks go pale. He inches closer to me, and I frown, trying to find what he’s looking at.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, and if it wasn’t for the paleness of his cheeks, I might’ve believed him.
The fact that he lies so convincingly bothers me, and I can’t help but wonder if he was lying earlier about wanting the rough sex.
But his body had reacted, and I have to think he wouldn’t lie about that.
I pull him closer to myself and lean in. “Tell me,” I whisper. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s up.”
He’s shaking, I realize, and I squeeze him tight. Even though he shakes his head again, he says quietly, “I just… thought I saw someone I recognized. That’s all.” He smiles at me. “I’m sure I was imagining things. It’s fine. The next fight is about to start.”
I glance around, trying to spot somebody out of the ordinary in the crowd. It’s tough, with so many people moving and cheering, but eventually I notice one person whose attention isn’t on the cage. No, he glances in our direction.
Our eyes lock, and the guy looks back to the fight.
Coincidence?
I’m not sure I want to take the risk.
“How about we head up and watch the rest of the fight on TV?” I suggest. “We can cuddle with the cats and make a mess of Caleb’s place.”
He cracks another small smile. “Yeah. We can have popcorn and watch Nacho chase the laser pointer. It’s his favorite new thing. Even Miss K gets involved.”
I help him up, and I don’t miss the way he glances warily in the direction of the man I’d noticed.
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to go over and confront the potential threat. It wouldn’t be a good idea, especially right here and now, but I’m pissed that he managed to ruin something Seven was enjoying.
Seven stays pressed close to me until we reach the elevator going up to Caleb’s penthouse suite, then his shoulders sag. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I was probably… I don’t know. I doubt it was anything.”
“Trust your instincts,” I tell him. “I didn’t see any real active combat, but it’s something they drilled into us in the military. If something feels off, it probably is. Your conscious brain doesn’t always have the same info as the rest of your body.”
He nods, but he doesn’t say anything else until we reach the top floor. The usual guards are waiting there, and I’m grateful for their presence. They won’t let anyone up who isn’t supposed to be here.
They’ll protect Seven.
“You should probably tell Caleb,” he says, looking away from me as we enter the suite.
Nacho crosses the room, rubbing against Seven’s ankles, and he crouches down to give the cat some scratches behind the ear.
“Hey, Nacho,” he coos. “Did you miss me?”
I pull my phone out to text Caleb. “He probably missed the treats.” The kitten has nearly doubled in size since I took him to get neutered—both from regular growth and from getting fed a steady diet. He used to be extremely skinny, and now he’s a healthy, near-adult cat.
Seven rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks,” he says. He’s still tense, but he finally leaves my side to head toward the kitchen. “ Popcorn? I was thinking we could watch that anime instead, maybe. The one we were watching last time? I was waiting for you to keep going.”
“Oh, sure.” I put my phone away and scoop up Nacho, who is more than happy to rub against my face. “The one with all the fake lawyers, right? Objection! Hold it!”
Seven laughs. “Yeah. All their fighting moves have complicated law names.”
I set Nacho down again and go over to where he’s standing, right up against the kitchen counter. I brush the back of his hair aside and lean down to kiss the nape of his neck.
He still has a small hint of the hickey Vortex had left.
“Maybe I should start shouting out legal terms when I get into fights,” I say.
“Mhm,” he agrees, and he pushes against me, his ass grinding against my groin.
I trail my hands down his arms and settle them on his wrists, squeezing them tightly. He’s so skinny in comparison to me, and his pale skin bruises easily.
My knuckles are still red and recovering from the fight.
I force the darker thoughts away and bite down on his shoulder.
Seven lets out a needy sound. “Please,” he begs. “I want… I want it. Please don’t keep beating yourself up.”
I growl and push him down over the kitchen counter. “I’m so glad I pushed you up against a bathroom stall that day.”
“Me too,” he says, already breathless. “I…” He laughs, still pushing back against me. “Was it worth getting pummeled by Vortex?”
“Absolutely.” I let go of his wrists so I can push our pants down. “I got you, and a job, out of it. Best day of my life.”
He hums. “I thought… for a while that getting picked up by Caleb was a bad day. But…” He lets out a soft moan as my half-hard cock brushes his ass. “But I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I spit into my hand and stroke myself. I know a bit about how Seven ended up here—and the kinds of people that are chasing him—but it’s hard for me to conceptualize. I’ve always known Seven and Caleb as together .
“Spread your ass for me, Seven,” I say. I almost call him a pet name, but I feel weird about using a generic word like “ babe” or “ sweetheart ,” and I definitely can’t call him “love.”
I choke on that thought.
Do I want to call him that? Is what I feel for him something like that?
He reaches behind himself, spreading his ass cheeks for me — completely unaware of my line of thinking.
It would probably freak him out, too.
I stroke myself a few more times to get myself fully hard. “You want me to find lube for you?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t need lube.” He looks over his shoulder, flashing me a seductive smile that goes right to my cock. “I just need you.”
I smile back and rub the tip of my cock against his hole. “Yeah? What do you want me to do?”
“Fuck me senseless.” He doesn’t miss a beat before teasing, “You think you can do that?”
I groan, but I manage to hold back from simply ramming into him. Instead, I tease his hole by sliding the tip inside and holding there. “Like this?”
He whines. “No. Not like that. I want more .” He tries to push back against me, but I don’t let him. “Havoc! Don’t be mean.”
I pull out to hear the disappointed noise Seven makes. “I’m not mean!” I joke, rubbing my cock along his hole. Precum smears against his skin, and I spread his cheeks wider so I can get a better look.
“Come on,” he wheedles. “I didn’t get fucked the other night. I’ve been wanting it so bad.”
I’d tease him for longer, but the tension I’ve been holding in my body all evening needs release. I line up and slam into him all the way, digging my fingers into his skin.
Seven cries out, leaning more over the counter so he can get his ass higher in the air. “Oh, god,” he whimpers. “Yes, fuck, Havoc, I—” His breathing gets shaky. “ Please .”
I pull out almost all the way, then slam in again with even more force. Seven moans, not complaining at all about how the island counter must be digging into his stomach. I fuck him roughly, leaving bruises and leaning down to nip and bite.
All the while, he keeps making those soft, needy noises, gasping when I bite him harder but only encouraging me with how he shoves himself back onto my cock over and over again. “You… You can always hurt me,” he pants. “I want it. I want it so much.”
I don’t know that rough sex has ever been this comforting . I used to fuck guys all the time like this, with spit for lube in inappropriate locations. But even during the fucking, part of me felt slimy about it.
Now, it only feels good.
I keep thrusting, moaning when Seven tightens his ass for me.
“Gonna come,” I warn him.
He fumbles for a second, then his breathing hitches as he shifts slightly. I assume it’s to get his hand on his own cock, because I feel him moving a little more against me. “Harder first?” he pleads.
“Yeah.” I speed up—then growl and pull out entirely. Seven whines, but I turn him around and lift him up on the kitchen island, back on the counter and legs in the air, so I can slam into him from this angle.
“O-oh,” he pants. “Yes, that— There—” He jerks his own cock furiously, lifting his ass up so I can get to his hole more easily.
I hear something—I don’t know what—but I ignore it in favor of fucking Seven as hard as I can. I leave bruises from how tightly I’m gripping his thighs to keep him in place.
“Come on, Seven,” I pant, “Let me see you come. Let go.”
He nods, biting his lip hard enough to where I’m sure it’s going to swell enticingly. His expression is full of pleasure and need, and it only takes him a handful of strokes before he’s gasping and spilling all over his hand. “Now,” he begs. “Need you to fill me.”
I thrust a few more times and finally give over to the building pleasure. I moan as I pump him full, and I grab his cock to lazily stroke it while I come. He shakes his head to protest—his cock oversensitized—but doesn’t stop me.
He keeps making keening noises, but he doesn’t push my hand away. His cum keeps dribbling out onto my hand, then he finally whimpers, “Havoc, I can’t!”
I nod and let go, completely exhausted. I need more of him, though. I bend forward, Seven’s legs awkwardly in the way, and kiss him. My lips barely reach him, but having our breaths mingling gives me the intimacy I’m craving.
He’s so fucking gorgeous, sweat-soaked and red-faced and smiling up at me.
He breathes out slowly, shakily, then closes his eyes. “I needed that,” he mumbles. “Thank you, Havoc.” When he opens his eyes again, they’re wet from tears. “I don’t know what I’d do without the three of you. I don’t. I don’t want to find out. Please don’t make me find out.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I whisper fiercely. “I?—”
Before I can continue, a very loud cough interrupts us.
I bolt upright and fumble for my jeans.
Caleb is standing by the door.
Seven startles, looking at him. He wipes at his eyes, his cheeks flushing. “Hi, Caleb,” he says sheepishly. He doesn’t bother going for his pants. “How long were you watching?”
“I heard you through the door, but I think I walked in around ‘Let me see you come,’” Caleb answers. “You two are going to disinfect the counter. It’s the least you can do.”
I look at Seven, then burst out laughing. “Yeah, sure. Give me a few minutes to recover.”
If that’s the price I have to pay for fucking Seven senseless in the kitchen, so be it.
Still, I wonder what this conversation would have been without Caleb interrupting us.