Tiny hairs rose alarmingly fast all over his body, but Joel was on him before he could defend himself. Cursing his delayed instincts when he’d entered the hotel room. Sneaky fucking bastard. Joe felt pissed Joel had once again got the drop on him. Giving Joel a hard stare, he felt the waves of Joel’s rage wash over him. What the hell did I ever see in this idiot, I’ll never know.
Joe jerked back clutching his stomach, feeling the pain radiate through his thin frame. The ringing in his ears from earlier blows not subsiding, making it difficult to focus. How had he caught up with me so fast? Why the hell didn’t I set up the room better to protect myself? Joe internally cursed himself, self-recriminations a bit late now.
He barely dodged the next blow, feeling it whistle past his chin. Joel’s powerful shoulders rolled as he prepared to use his large ham-fists to attack, again. Joe attempted to blink the sting out of his eyes when his blood mixed with sweat swept into his eyes. Joe counter manoeuvred, circling Joel. Never more grateful for his army training, he kicked out towards Joel’s shins.
Dodging again, his insides trembled. Joe searched for an escape route. The white-hot pain threatened to take the legs out from under him as Joel landed a solid blow to his upper abdomen. Joe fought past the clouds of pain making it hard to think, shaking his head, come on, think.
Joe pivoted away from the oncoming attack, the blow skimming his shoulder. Joel lumbered forward. Built like a forklift truck, power exuded from his every pore. Joe shrank back, knowing his body couldn’t take many more hits. His lungs screamed for oxygen as he managed to duck and weave to the door, hands scrabbling for the door handle. If he could get into the corridor, the fire escape was right next to his room.
Joe was small at five foot five with a lean body, bordering on skinny. People had a habit of believing he was even smaller or weaker than he was. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d moaned, no one ever took him seriously because of it. So he’d trained hard and right at that moment he’d never been more grateful for it. The training had not only given him strength, but agility, because right at that moment, he needed both if he was going to survive.
Joe blocked the next attack using his small stature to weave around Joel. He slipped past the giant, feeling like Jack and the beanstalk, he ran like the hounds of hell were chasing him. He ignored the soreness in his body, sprinting down the stairs. Not looking back when he heard the thundering of boots hitting the stairs behind him. Joel’s booming bellows following his every step, his own loud laboured breathing made words difficult to decipher, but he got the gist. He was dead meat if Joel got a hold of him.
Spurred on, when the commotion brought attention from some of the other guests in the hotel, knowing Joel wouldn’t want that. Doors opened as he clambered down the fire escape, making as much noise as possible. He felt the reassuring weight of the backpack on his shoulders. His only saving grace having not taken it off immediately as he’d entered the hotel room. At least Joel wouldn’t have access to any of his personal stuff and he still had all his essentials, which was a massive bonus.
Joe felt the lactate build in his legs, making them heavy from the sheer number of stairs. Groaning in relief, his feet clattered down the last few stairs. He hit the fire door with force, pushing out into the side street, the light blinding for an instant. His eyes watering he rubbed at them to clear his vision, running blindly into the street he’d luckily scouted out for that very reason.
Ignoring the tightness in his chest, he legged it as fast as he could. Calculating how far away he’d parked his bike in the secured garage. It was too far to run, feeling his leg muscles seize under the strain. He’d need a taxi to get there, an idea formed as he dodged the oncoming traffic, hailing the first taxi he spotted.
“Please stop, please stop, please.” Joe all but sobbed in gratitude when he yanked open the door, before flying into the back seat. Joe spluttered, trying to catch his breath and waved his arm encouraging the man to move. “Drive,” the whispered rasp barely recognisable as him.
The guy’s alarmed eyes took in his appearance.
“Please.” Joe coughed past the dryness in his throat. His shaky fingers searched through the backpack, grabbing the bottle of water like a lifeline. He sipped the icy coolness, letting it soothe the rawness and wash away the coppery taste of his own blood.
The stillness of the car registered as his muddled mind calmed. The adrenaline was fading, leaving the telltale signs that he was going to crash and soon. The cracked polyester seat creaked as his limbs trembled and bounced against it. The smells of stale sweat mixed with greasy fast food assaulted his already queasy stomach, making it revolt. Breathing through his mouth, Joe caught movement out the window.
Ducking automatically, “Fuck,” panic had him clutching the door handle. Worried that at any second it would be ripped open, he begged. “Please drive, please now.” The urgency making his voice shrill, but he didn’t care.
Joe lurched backward, his shoulder bashing off the seat behind him, “Arrrrgh.” Joe’s trembling hands grabbed for the seatbelt, paying no attention to the driver as he spoke or the now spilt bottle of water, soaking the matted carpet in the foot well.
“Sorry, but you did say move. You okay? You look a little worse for wear, man.” A Welsh accent sounded musical, but it had the words blending together.
Joe’s felt little shivers travel up his body, the cold seeping into his shocked system. He raked through his bag, finding another jumper, he pulled it on. Spotting his little mirror, he took a fortifying breath before lifting it out and up.
He couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that made his side ache. Self-pity gripped him, barely managing to choke back his distress. The mirror highlighted how unlucky he had been yet again. Dark purple seemed to spread before his very eyes, it tracked across his two eyes and down the whole of the right side of his face. His hair was matted, stuck to his face from his split right cheek. His swollen lips both bled, leaving furrows down his chin and neck. Joe traced the swollen cheekbone, checking for broken bones, satisfied when he found none.
He could see now why the taxi driver had looked so alarmed, he was a mess. “Oww, shit,” patting at his bleeding mouth, chastising himself for whining. That shit wouldn’t fix the situation. He carried on his exploration, thanking God Joel had missed his nose, but the grainy feeling in his eyes told him he needed to get his contact lenses out asap, before they caused any damage. Not thinking, he licked his fingertip, swiping his eye as he scraped the lens out.
Wow, shit, his wonky vision instantly making his stomach reel. Having suffered with car sickness as a child, he didn’t want to puke over the poor dude’s car. Swallowing, he breathed through his mouth, quickly removing the other lens. So much for sterile procedures, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Grabbing his glasses, attempting to cover some of his face.
“Hey, man, sorry to interrupt but where are we going?” The question pulled Joe from his reverie.
“The NCP car park at the Swansea City Gates please.” Looking behind, he couldn’t see anyone chasing him but then he hadn’t seen the attack coming either. His seat creaked in distress as he shifted. Joe considered if he should go to the hospital. At least there would be a record of his injuries, huffing at what fucking good had that done him in the past. What a fucking mess, all because his dick thought it knew better.
He’d spotted Joel on the training field when he’d arrived at High Wycombe military base. His dick had acted like a dog in heat, sitting up and begging. The attraction had been mutual. Though initially, Joe been a little shocked when the attraction had been mutual with Joel being so macho.
Joe was a typical nerd, wore glasses for short-sightedness and had since he was a small child. His floppy brown hair matched his brown eyes, he felt were nothing special. His lean body erred on the skinny side when he forgot to eat, which was often when he was entrenched in some new work project. Joel, on the other hand, was stunning, military short black hair, high cheekbones, square jaw, charcoal grey eyes that called to him. Joel’s powerful six foot five body, broad shoulders that lead to a slim waist and solid ass, gave way to long muscled legs. His body demonstrated Joel’s love of the gym, making him drool-worthy. His only flaw at the time that Joe could see, was his domineering personality.
He hadn’t listened to his gut, letting his dick overrule common sense. Joel took things to a whole new level of creepy after the initial lovey-dovey stage. In the beginning, he’d let it go, but the first time he’d tried to choke him to death, his jealous rage over Aaden, his commanding officer, left him shaken and back peddling out the door as fast as his small ass could manage.
He could still feel those large hands gripping his throat, pushing against his windpipe stopping any air from getting in or out. His fear paralysing him before his survival instincts kicked in. Struggling hadn’t worked, unable to speak while Joel fucked him hard, all the while asphyxiating him. A maniacal gleam in his eyes scared the living crap out of Joe. The animalistic roar he gave as his cock exploded inside Joe had made his blood run cold. The force of Joel’s ejaculation had Joe convinced he could taste salt at the back of his own throat. Joe’s limp cock demonstrating his total lack of arousal, but Joel had seemed completely oblivious.
Unapologetic for his jealous behaviour, he acted as if nothing had happened. The bruising around his throat evidence enough it had happened, and was harder to explain to his friends. He’d walked funny for two weeks and had cringed at the thought of anyone touching him intimately.
It had been the beginning of the end of their three-month roller coaster ride. His humiliation had continued, when he reported it to his chief officer, only not to be taken seriously. Then Joel laughing it off when he tried to end it. The weeks that followed a total nightmare before it had eventually sunk past the layer of Joel’s disbelief that they were over.
Thinking back on how things had spiralled out of control in the following months. Fuck that is an understatement. Joe remembered the broken bones and bruising he’d suffered, which had taken weeks to heal. Reporting it again had done diddly squat, his commander telling him to take it like a fucking man.
He’d never hidden he was gay, receiving mixed vibes from some of the army personnel. On the whole, who he dated was ignored due to his brilliance. On the odd occasion bigotry had still lurked, he’d ignored it. He’d spent most of his teenage years in advanced classes with older pupils getting used to odd reactions to him. He knew he never really fitted in, so he’d embraced his quirkiness, spending more time with his pet electronic projects. Creating a miniscule bug that the army had been unable to detect, resulting in them offering him a contract at the ripe old age of nineteen.
His army colleagues found it funny to ridicule his size and stature, so he had set out to prove that he could match them on the training assault courses used for new recruits. His only advantage in the beginning was speed, so he’d worked on strength and agility aspect. It had taken time to build, but he’d achieved it in the end.
Joe felt his first genuine smile spread across his face, splitting his cut lip out. Wincing at the sting, he gingerly touched his lip with his tongue, tasting the fresh metallic flavour of blood. His self-disgust coated his sigh, convinced if Martin was still in the army he wouldn’t be in this situation. Martin would definitely have kicked Joe’s ass for mixing with the likes of Joel. He’d warned Joe his dick would get him into trouble. No truer words were spoken in jest.
Joe had met Martin when he’d stepped in at the last minute to take the training Joe had requested to do. Joe was attempting to climb the six-foot wooden wall when the guys he was training with thought it would be fun to pull his trousers down, causing him to lose his grip. He could still feel the splinters digging into his palms as he’d grappled to hold on, humiliation staining his cheeks at their laughter.
It was that hilarity that had brought the wrath of God down on them. Joe would have sneered at the thirty laps around the assault course if he hadn’t had to have the wood dug out of his hands. Martin had seemed genuinely concerned for him. Their developing friendship had surprised them both. They’d soon sussed out they were both gay, but deciding friendship was more important. Joe instead had become Martin’s shadow following him everywhere.
Joe may have had a few dreams about those delicious plump lips and what they could do to him, but Martin hadn’t needed to know that. Joe sighed in frustration when he remembered he hadn’t replied to Martin’s text message. Now he was being a shitty friend as well, buggering, shit! He searched through his bag for his palmtop computer. He glanced out the window trying to gauge where they were. Joe figured he had time to get the information now.
Becoming engrossed, it took a second for Joe to realise his phone was singing. Spice Girls, “Spice up your life”, telling him exactly who it was, chuckling he answered.
“Come on, for fuck sake answer.”
Joe winced at Martin’s bellowing, pulling back the phone he rubbed his ringing ear, laughing. “I’m here. Can’t a man take a wiz without interruption?” His joke fell short when he heard the strain in Martin’s voice as he spoke.
“Not when it’s me, they can’t.”
Shit, Martin’s anger had him pausing. “What’s up? I take it you’re after the info you texted me about yesterday. Sorry, I didn’t get back to you, but something unexpected came up.” Trying to control the tremulous quake, he failed miserably when Martin spoke, his concern coming through loud and clear.
“Hey, you alright, my man? You know you can talk to me about anything.”
Unsure how to answer Martin, Joe considered his options, maybe he could lay low with Martin for a while. The lies formed against his will. “Eh, no, no, it’s all cool. I may need a place to stay for a few weeks if you’re up for a lodger?” His undertone of desperation seeping out before he could stop it, Joe cursed under his breath at Martin’s wary response.
“That won’t be a problem. There is plenty of room at mine. Your welcome anytime, you know that. At least I won’t have to track you down to ask for help then.”
At the mention of tracking, he pulled up a new screen. His fingers flew over his palmtop, searching for what Martin needed.
“Did you find out who owns that car?”
Martin’s question had him responding with a chuckle.
“Hey, you don’t doubt my skills, hang on. Yep, here you go it’s a Malcolm Cummings.”
Martin’s sharp inhale had his belly tying in knots as words shouted into his ear. “Shit, shit, are you sure?”
Joe heard tyres squeal, he hesitated not wanting to upset Martin further, if his first reaction was anything to go by. “Yes I’m sure, isn’t that the same surname as your new boyfriend?”
The eerie silence unnerved him. Joe waited, feeling his anxiety growing at the revving and roars of an engine followed by horns blaring through the phone. They mixed seconds later with Martin’s ragged breathing. “You still with me, take it easy, Martin. Don’t, for fuck sake, crash before you get to him. Ring me, let me know what the fuck is going on. I’m here, man, if you need me.” Energy sizzled in the air as Martin disconnected his phone.
Holy shit, it would appear he wasn’t the only one with problems. Joe scrolled through the information on his screen. Dear God, Malcolm had been on the island for a few days, and if the information was correct, he was part of some zealot group. Reading some of the propaganda, Joe got a bitter taste in his mouth. The hate against the gay population caused his blood to freeze. What the hell has Martin gotten mixed up with? He hesitated, his fingers hovered over his phone, should he ring him back?
“That’s twenty-three quid.”
Joe glanced up eyes taking a second to focus. His mind trying to grasp what the man wanted. “Sorry?”
The genuine concern that peered back at him had emotions well in Joe’s chest, it had been a while since anyone had shown him any concern.
“You alright, sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital or something?”
Joe shook his head, giving a half-hearted smile. “No, it’s fine, honest. How much?”
Digging into his backpack for his wallet, he gave a large tip as he paid the driver, getting out he took a deep breath of fresh air. Glad to be out of the stale smelling car, the guy may have been nice, but his car wasn’t. Sniffing his jacket and jumper, sighing when it confirmed he now stank of grease. Thoroughly disgusted, he stalked towards the garage to get his BMW motorbike.
Conscious he could have a tail, he skirted the building, watching. He needed to get his shit together, figure out where he was going to stay and how Joel had found him again so fast. No one knew he was in Swansea, well except his handler in High Wycombe.
It was supposed to be a need to know basis, and no one needed to know what he was up to. Cursing under his breath, Joel appeared to have a snitch, and he had a feeling it may be his handler, he was going to need to do a bit of digging before he voiced that accusation. He just didn’t understand why the fuck couldn’t people just leave him alone? The past six months were taking their toll. Dark circles, jittery stomach, weight loss, lack of sleep, he wasn’t sure how much more could he endure. Thinking the field work would help him escape Joel, yet, he kept popping up. The fucking stalking bastard.
It didn’t seem to matter how many times he complained, they were doing nothing, and now the attacks were getting more threatening. Joe was now convinced it was only a matter of time before Joel lost complete control. Fear skittered down his spine at the thoughts of what he would do to him before he’d finished.
The large bag he’d spotted on the ground in the hotel room before he’d escaped had scared the bejesus out of him. Joel saw himself as a Dom, using bondage and toys. Joe had only participated twice, not enjoying the pain that Joel revelled in inflicting. Joe’s hands pushed his hair back in frustration. Why, why, why, had he ignored all the warning signs?
Shaking off his gloomy self-recrimination, he pulled his thoughts together. Think, come on, man think, you need to come up with a plan of some sort, come on.
A resolved expression fixed to his pinched features before a smile began to form. Martin would have recognised it instantly. Joe was fixing to pull some tricks out of his bag. Joe mounted his bike, revving the engine, letting his plans form. It was time to stop being the victim and turn the tables. The punch of power under him had his hands flexing tightly. He could sort this, no, he would sort this!
Then he would visit Martin and figure out if Brad was worthy of his friend.