Chapter 23
Zayne
The ride back to The Garage seemed to go on forever.
I have a million things to say to Zeus, but words aren't something we have the privilege of knowing the truck is bugged.
If anyone is listening or monitoring what we say in the vehicle, they may find it strange that neither of us says a word on the way back to that shitty little house we're calling home right now.
But I just don't have the energy after what happened tonight to make small talk, even if it means making whoever's listening suspicious.
What happened tonight was no surprise to me.
Working in this field, it didn't take long for my sheltered bubble to be popped, to realize that there are more people like Scott, people willing to hurt and assault others just for existing the way they were made, than a lot of people want to think.
I was never completely ignorant of the existence of those people. I was just raised to believe that people would whisper their distaste for certain things, assuming the people they were talking to felt exactly the same way.
To be so blatant and open about their opinions was a slap in the face the first time it happened, and to be honest, it took a minute for me to realize that they fully expected me to feel the same way.
The fact that Scott backed down so easily, rather than confronting and challenging me at my suggestion, was surprising, though.
I've been faced with situations very similar to that before, and more often than not, it's a struggle to guide someone's attention away from their evil intentions, especially when they're behaving the way they think people expect of them.
Thankfully, all those past situations were like tonight, and I was able to prevent terrible shit from happening.
I've never been faced with having to blow my cover to keep some really bad shit from happening, but I know how close I came tonight.
Although I know there wouldn't be any blowback from Cerberus if that's where the night took us, I'm grateful that piece-of-shit Scott was easily persuaded to change his mind.
The look in Zeus's eyes at the moment told me he wasn't sure if I would stand back and let those two men get assaulted in order to stay in character, and I think that hurts me more than the way he treated me all those years ago.
The fact that he doesn't know my character and limits not only saddens me, but it pisses me off to the point that I'm vibrating with anger as I pull up to the front of the house.
I know a lot of my rage is displaced, that I couldn't take it out on Scott without blowing our cover, and now it has nowhere to go, but emotions don't work like a fucking light switch, no matter how hard I've strived to get a grip on them.
I fully expect Zeus to storm off to his room without so much as a word, but relief drops his shoulders as we enter the house and I lock us inside.
He turns to face me, sadness and pain in his eyes.
I press my index finger to my lips before pointing to the ceiling, reminding him that the house is bugged. He dips his head, telling me that he hasn't forgotten.
As if he controls that switch on my emotions, my irritation quickly fades when he steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek.
His eyes search mine, and I know he's trying to gauge where my head is at, a silent question wondering if I'm okay when our eyes lock.
I let my eyes flutter closed, head tilting to lean into his touch, and I just stand there, soaking up the attention I never imagined I'd get from him, doing my best to ignore the warning of the weakness I know it forms where he's concerned.
All too soon, his touch disappears, the warmth from the contact slowly cooling as my eyes open.
He gives me a sad smile, and I give him one right back.
Tonight was fucking awful, and the worst part about all of it is that it may end up being one of our better nights, given how sideways shit could go before we're able to take these bastards down.
"I'm okay," I mouth, sort of falling in love with the way his eyes drift down to my mouth to read my lips.
Sadness fills every aspect of his facial features when his eyes lift back to mine. He shakes his head slightly, mouthing back, "I'm not."
I swallow against the lump forming in my throat, but it does nothing to dislodge the damn thing.
His hand slides down my arm, fingers entwining with mine, and when he gives me a little tug, I'm like a puppy on a leash, following him across the room toward the bathroom.
Although we could probably whisper in here and not be heard, neither of us chooses to speak.
I lift my arms over my head when Zeus grabs the hem of my shirt, smiling at his sigh of contentment as he drops it to the floor, his hands immediately running the length of my torso. My stomach muscles jump and flex under his attention, as if they're dancing and performing just for him.
When his fingers work to open my belt and zipper, I press my forehead against his, both of us watching his hands work. I work to kick off my boots, falling in love with his laughter when he chuckles as I almost lose my balance.
His strong hands steady me, the warmth of them on my hips almost distracting enough to make me forget my task.
Each boot thuds to the floor, the sound tangled with our ragged breaths as his thumbs hook into the waistline of my boxer briefs.
He shifts the fabric down, no hesitation in his movements, as if he's been undressing me for a lifetime, his touch no less excited than the last time.
A low rumble of approval escapes his throat when my erection springs free, and anticipation fills every cell in my body as he lowers to a squat, his hand pulling my clothes down as he does so.
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I use him for balance as I shift from one foot to the other so he can pull off my jeans, underwear, and socks.
The top of my head nearly shoots off when he leans in, the warmth of his mouth covering the head of my cock. My fingers curl into his flesh, and I wouldn't be surprised if marks are left behind from how hard I grip him.
Cold air meets the wet tip of my cock as he pulls his mouth free, and as much as I loved his chuckle earlier, a hint of desperation and irritation swells inside of me as he laughs when I whimper and push my hips further, chasing that need and the warmth of his mouth.
The irritability I was feeling quickly fades when he stands, a wide smile on his handsome face. I press my hand to his cheek, the softness of his beard tangling with my other senses.
As if giving me a command, he raises his arms over his head, and since I'm a quick learner, I don't hesitate to work his shirt over his head, my next movement heading for his belt much the same way he did mine.
The sound of his zipper echoes around us, and I do my best to push away the thought that he could put a stop to this at any moment. An urgency I can't seem to control takes over, and with much less finesse than he had, I shove his jeans and boxers down in one rough moment.
As if he can read my mind, his hands cover mine, and a sense of calmness takes over at his wordless command.
His erection presses against mine as he inches closer, his mouth brushing mine in a soft, reassuring peck to my lips, but in the next breath, he's gone, the distance between us feeling like a mile as he takes a step back so he can get his boots and the remainder of his clothes off.
My heart races, the muscle pounding in my chest in both anticipation of what's to come and a fear that I know from experience that this man can change his mind in the blink of an eye and expect everyone around him to just be okay with it.
I'm all for someone taking a step back to reevaluate a situation, but my need for him feels like an addiction. As much as I should take a moment to consider what that means for my mental health when this is over, the man doesn't hesitate to step right back into my space once he's nude.
His warm lips sweep down my neck as a sigh of pleasure filters in the otherwise silent room.
Then, just like before, cold swirls around me as he leaves me standing alone.
I watch, hands shaking with the need to reach for him as he shifts his attention to the tub and turns on the water. As if he has all the time and patience in the world, he keeps his hand under the stream of water, adjusting the temperature twice before turning his attention back to me.
When he lifts his hand in offering, I take it without a second thought, realizing almost absently that I'd probably follow this man into the fiery pits of hell if that's where he wanted to lead me.
We both step into the tub, the warm water hitting our bodies and ricocheting to the floor before he pulls the flimsy curtain closed.
There's barely enough space in here for one of us, but somehow we manage, and you would never find me complaining that to do so, we have to stay nearly pressed together.
Despite what has already happened between us and the difference in this man to the boy I knew long ago, I can't help but feel as if I'm living in a dream, as if his lips on mine, tongue sweeping inside my mouth, is something I created in my mind rather than real life right now.
It's damn near euphoric, and although I know better, I push away the threat of sirens in my head. I’ll deal with the loss of his attention down the road. The pain I know I'll suffer isn't something I could focus on right now, even if I did have my wits about me.
The combination of his mouth on mine and the sweep of his hand down my chest until my cock is firmly wrapped in his fist is all I can focus on.
Living in this very moment is where I could spend the rest of my life.
I'd forgo food, sleep, and saving the world, just stay here with him for a little longer.
I grip him, fingers once again curling into his skin, but he doesn't seem to mind as his hand works up and down my length. He must be a little more aware of himself because he swats my hand when I reach for his cock.