Under Pressure Read online

  “Awww, did I bully you, pet?” Ewan stuck out his lip. “You feeling badgered?”

  Channon shoved into him, just a hip and shoulder, but it made him stagger. “Whatever. Be nice to me or I’ll find someone else to eat lunch with.”

  It made him laugh. “All right, all right. Keep your knickers on.”

  You’re always trying to get them off, though, Channon thought, but he didn’t say it.

  The conference was being held in the hotel’s conference rooms downstairs. It really wasn’t that fancy a place, but Ewan kept mocking it like it was the Ritz, and Channon had to make an effort to ignore him.

  “Have you seen Rayyan?” he asked.

  Ewan shrugged. “What does it matter?”

  “She’s my friend,” Channon said, annoyed he had to say it.

  “Then call her.”

  “I don’t have her number.”

  Ewan slow-blinked at him like a cat. “Then she’s not your friend.”

  “Shut up,” Channon said. “Tell me if you see her.”

  They registered, sat through the keynote, helped themselves to the moderately decent coffee on offer. Ewan kept up a scathing judgment of the other attendees as they made their way to the first actual session, ‘Future Proofing Frameworks’. Everyone was (apparently) too well dressed, too smarmy, too ‘stuck up their own arses’. Too tall, in one case, and Channon had to kick Ewan in the shoe.

  “Maybe people who dress like hobos shouldn’t throw stones,” he said.

  Ewan laughed, low and throaty. “You’re right. I look much better naked.”

  It was terrible. He was terrible. And yet, when Ewan flirted with him, it wasn’t like when Tig flirted with him. It felt…welcome? Comfortable. Like they were friends, who had on one memorable occasion had sex, and now…

  The tension had shifted. Ewan didn’t get mad at him the way he’d used to. He tended to yell at Channon more, but Channon felt weirdly okay with that, because he also let Channon pet him until he calmed down, and then actually calmed down instead of pretending he was fine and being secretly furious.

  Difficult. But Channon liked him. Channon liked him a lot. He was…fond of him, he supposed. It was a new thing to feel. Channon decided he liked that too.

  The seminar was interesting. Channon took a lot of notes, but didn’t ask any questions at the end. Ewan, meanwhile, drew stick-figure comics on his note paper, looking for all the world like he wasn’t listening at all, and at the end he raised his hand immediately to argue with the presenter.

  It was a little embarrassing at first. Then it was deeply embarrassing. Channon slouched down in his chair, trying to communicate with Ewan with only his eyes. What are you doing? Shut up and sit down!

  But Ewan ignored him, picking holes in the guy’s argument with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers, making them bunch untidily. He scowled, scrubbed a hand through his hair, messing it up, and snapped out criticisms of the presenter’s methods, his sources, and conclusions, and then offered a simplified solution that…okay, Channon wasn’t an expert, but it made sense. Maybe if it made sense to Channon that meant it was wrong. Surely that made it too simple

  And then, when it was over, Ewan sauntered out of the room like he’d done nothing at all, frowning at the map he’d got in his welcome pack. “Are you coming to this comms thing? It’s in Hall C.”

  “Is that the one Rayyan was going to?” Channon asked and Ewan made a disgusted noise.

  “Why d’you like her so much?”

  “She’s nice to me. She makes us tea when we pair code.”

  Ewan frowned but seemed to accept this explanation.

  Channon spotted Rayyan outside the hall. “Hey,” he said, careful not to bump into her in the crowd. “Um. How are you? How was your flight?”

  “I got randomly searched,” she said, sounding amused but also annoyed.

  Ewan snorted. “Yeah, me too.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she told him archly, “you look like a man at the end of his tether.”

  It made him laugh. “Aye, that’s right. I’m a loose cannon. Fuck!” And he ducked behind Channon’s arm. “Come on! Let’s go in before Simon sees us!”

  They went in. This time around Ewan kept his opinions to himself, though he did draw an impressive spaceship on his note paper, with a lot of improbable lasers. When it was over, Channon asked why he hadn’t argued with the presenter.

  Ewan shrugged. “She doesn’t need another bloke talking over her.”

  “She was wrong, though,” Rayyan said, frowning. “About retention. That’s been deprecated.”

  “Why is it deprecated and not depreciated?” Channon asked.

  “Because that’s what words mean,” Ewan said, angling toward the lunch buffet. “And sure, she wasn’t all right, but there’s plenty of blokes ready to tell her that. No need for another.”

  Whatever. Channon followed them to the buffet line and waited while Rayyan found her halal options. The falafel looked good, so he got some, and harissa lamb, and brown rice and salad. Ewan piled his plate up with fried chicken and nothing else, and Channon side-eyed him hard.

  It had very little effect. “What?”

  “Get a vegetable,” Channon told him.

  Ewan grinned. “No,” he said.

  Fine. Channon spooned some broccoli onto his rice, and when they found a standing table to lean up against, he transferred the broccoli to Ewan’s plate.

  “Oi!” Ewan tried to fork one of them back, but Channon smacked his hand with a spoon.

  “They’re good for you,” he said.

  Ewan looked murderous for all of a second, and then his eyes narrowed.

  “Okay, daddy.”

  It made Channon’s belly sort of flip, in a weird way that flustered him. It was a disconcerting reminder of what he’d said to Jack the night they’d…well, the night he’d said that to Jack.

  He bent over his plate, hacking off a chunk of falafel to stick in his mouth before anything weird came out.

  “Um,” Rayyan said, eyeing them both. “Is this weird? Could it maybe not be weird?”

  “It’s like gay chicken,” Ewan said, as if that was a normal thing to say to anyone. “Except we’re both gay so, you know.”

  “So it’s kinky chicken?” Rayyan asked, and Channon nearly spat out his mouthful.

  Ewan grinned. “Something like that.”

  Rayyan eyed them both narrowly. “I’m trying really hard not to gossip these days. But is it gossip if you just ask people things?”

  “Probably. Are you gonna tell Dana and Bianca and Simon?” Ewan asked snarkily.

  “No. Then it would definitely be gossip.”

  “Then go for it.” Ewan made a dramatic gesture, like he was on a stage. “Ask away.”

  Her face twisted up in thought. “So you’re English.”

  “Scottish,” Ewan snapped.

  “Isn’t Scotland part of England?”

  Ewan looked like he was going to bite her on the face. “No. It’s part of Britain.”

  “Which isn’t the same thing as England.”

  “No. You could google all this, you know?”

  She nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Are you dating Nate Scott?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are Nate Scott and Jack Nash dating each other?”

  Channon swallowed before he was really ready. “No!” he choked out past the lump of lamb in his throat.

  “Not really,” Ewan said, which was much less definite, Channon thought. “They’re just friends.”

  Rayyan thought this over. “Do the four of you go on double dates?”

  “Sometimes,” Channon said.

  “Are you asking if we all get together to fuck?” Ewan demanded, loud enough that someone at the next table glanced over.

  Rayyan shrugged. “I just meant dinner and a movie, but okay.”

  “Isn’t this a bit kinky for your lot?” Ewan asked, wrinkling his nose. “I thought you were devout.”
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  “I also read books about serial killers,” Rayyan said, nonplussed. “Doesn’t mean I kill people.”

  Ewan frowned at her for a long moment. “We go out to dinner sometimes,” he said eventually. “I like not paying for my own food.”

  Rayyan smiled. “I bet they have nice houses.”

  “Nate’s looks like an interior decorating magazine blew through it.”

  Channon realized they were both looking at him. “Uh…our condo is nice.”

  “Our?” Rayyan seemed delighted. “That sounds serious.”

  “He said I should stop thinking of it as ‘his’,” Channon protested. “I’m supposed to feel at home there.”

  “And do you?”

  Channon nodded. “Yeah.” Really, really yeah.

  “That’s nice! Are you thinking of getting married?”

  It was like someone had poured hot water over his face. “I…um.”

  “Let him alone,” Ewan said, unexpectedly rescuing him. “He’s a baby gay, he’s still working out what he likes.”

  If anything, that made it worse because it made Channon sound slutty, but…well, he really kind of was.

  Rayyan took it all in her stride, and then they split up to go to different seminars. Channon went to ‘Cloud City: Life in the Cloud’. It was much more boring without Ewan sketching comics next to him, and by the end of it, Channon was pretty sure the speaker had made a pretty serious leap of logic at one point but was too shy to ask.

  The day finally wound down. There was a dinner—where they again avoided Simon, and Channon let Ewan eat his dessert—and then a mixer in the bar.

  Channon found the mocktail list, but Rayyan stuck to orange juice and soda water. “I’ll stay for one,” she said, “then I’m going to my room to call my husband.”

  “You’re married?”

  She smiled at him, her teeth shining white against her lip. “Did you think I was single?”

  “I…didn’t think about it, really.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Channon couldn’t help it. “What’s it like, being married?”

  “A lot of work. You have to talk about little problems before they become big problems. For example,” she said, stirring her drink with a straw, “I told him I’d be hanging out with you at this, and probably Ewan too. Which he’s fine with, because you’re both gay. But he might not have been okay with it if you weren’t.”

  “Doesn’t he let you talk to guys?”

  She gave him a Look. “Don’t pretend this is about my husband being possessive and not the way that men can behave in bars. How would you feel about it if it was your boyfriend here and you were at home?”

  Channon shrugged. “He can take care of himself.”

  “Okay. So how does he feel about you being here without him?”

  Channon thought about it. The way Jack had kissed him before he’d left. The instruction to stick close to Ewan. Call me if anything happens, anything at all.

  “Protective,” Channon admitted.

  “That’s right. It’s not about trusting us, it’s about not trusting anyone else.”

  Channon nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

  “So.” She finished her juice and soda. “Will you walk me to my room?”

  “Sure,” he said. Ewan had disappeared. Channon decided he could find him when he got back. But he sent a text: walking Rayy 2 her rm brb

  He took her upstairs and dropped her off, and caught the lift down alone. He liked Rayyan. She wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d first met her, but then he guessed most people weren’t, once you got to know them. Maybe he needed to be more open minded. Maybe he should learn not to judge people from a first glance. People like Ewan, who was scruffy and rude, and under all that unbelievably kind to him.

  Channon rounded a corner, and stopped dead in the hall.

  For a sickening moment he thought they were making out, Ewan pushed up against the wall, the other guy leaning into him with all his weight. But then the tableau resolved into something else, like one of those gestalt shift drawings, candlesticks to faces etc, and he saw that Ewan’s head was turned aside, his expression wrenched in helpless agony. The stranger had a hand planted on the wall beside Ewan’s head and was crowding him in, whispering furiously in his ear.

  Fuck. Channon was down the corridor in a heartbeat. “Hey! Get off him!”

  The guy jerked away, his head coming up to stare. Ewan made an ungodly noise, slithering out from under the stranger’s arm and grabbing at Channon like he was drowning. Channon tucked him behind his back, putting himself between Ewan and whoever the fuck this was, though…what exactly was he going to do?

  The guy looked concerned for all of a second, but then his eyes narrowed. “Are you the boyfriend?” he demanded, in an accent Channon thought was…English? British? Like something out of a Guy Ritchie movie.

  Channon set his jaw. “It doesn’t matter who I am.”

  The guy straightened, glaring at him. He was shorter than Channon, maybe ten years older, his face puffy and hollow in all the wrong places. He made Channon feel greasy. “Come on, mate. We’ve been here before. How much is it?”

  “How much is what?”

  “For the night.”

  For a second Channon didn’t get it. Then realization broke over him like a storm. He could feel Ewan against his back, clinging to him. It was so unlike him that Channon felt it in his gut, hot and sickening. “He’s not going anywhere with you.”

  “Yeah? You allergic to money?” The guy sneered. Channon had never wanted to punch someone in the mouth so badly as he did then. “Or maybe you’re in love. That’s cute.”

  “It’s none of your business,” Channon said, backing up. He wasn’t taking his eyes off this guy, not gonna risk it. “Don’t talk to him again.”

  “Or what?”

  Or what exactly? Channon didn’t answer, because there was nothing to say.

  The guy snickered. “Thought so.” He lifted a hand to wave. “Let me know if you change your mind, kitten.”

  He turned to walk away. Channon shoved Ewan into the elevator and stabbed at the button to close the door. “What the fuck was that?”

  Ewan made a wet sound, shuddering against the wall. He had his face turned away and Channon felt that like a punch in the chest.

  “Ewan?”

  “It’s nothing,” Ewan said, but Channon couldn’t see his eyes and he knew it was a lie.

  “Did you know him? From…Glasgow?”

  “No. I mean, yeah. I knew him.”

  The guy had been wearing a con badge on a lanyard around his throat. “He was here for the conference.”

  “He’s a dev. I’d forgotten.” Ewan shuddered, scrubbing his hands over his face, and Channon didn’t even think. He pulled Ewan up against his chest, rubbing the length of his spine. Ewan melted to him, and Channon could feel him shaking like a leaf. Fuck. Fuck, this was Ewan, gone to pieces over something some jerk said to him in a hotel corridor.

  “Hey. Hey, come on.” Channon shuffled him out of the elevator and down the corridor, fumbling his keycard out of a pocket and swiping open the door of their room. He got Ewan inside and then folded him down onto the bed—his bed, the one closest the door. Ewan’s hands were caught in his belt so he went down too, pushing Ewan into the coverlet and holding him there. “It’s okay. Tell me what he said to you.”

  Ewan dragged in a breath, blinking up at the ceiling. “Nothing.”

  “Something,” Channon insisted. “Come on. Come on,” he tried again, “It’s me.”

  Ewan swallowed and closed his eyes. “It’s just…he just assumed I’d go with him. Like I’d just go. Like I was still…like I’d liked it back then, when Gary made me. Like I was gagging for it, desperate for a cock in my—” He broke off, pressing his lips together hard.

  Channon ran his hand over Ewan’s chest. “That guy was Gary?”

  “No!” Ewan’s eyes snapped open. “Fuck, no. That was Ross. One of Gary’s mates.
Gary used to make me…I mean, he didn’t make me. Not like that. But he’d tell me to and I’d do it because…” He breathed out. “You know why.”

  “Because Gary was your Dom?” Channon asked, putting the pieces together.

  Ewan nodded.

  “And he told you to…he gave you to people to play with?”

  “Not play. Just sex.” Ewan struggled to sit up. “Fuck, it’s not a big deal. Let’s get drunk. There’s got to be a minibar in here.”

  “Uh, no.” Channon caught Ewan’s shoulder and hung onto it. “That goes on the company account. HR would freak.”

  “Then let’s go down to the fucking bar.”

  Channon gave him a little shake. “What if Russ is there?”

  “Ross, and fuck him, I don’t give a shit about him.”

  His voice was shaking, and Channon didn’t know what to do, so he caught Ewan against his chest and held on, tucking Ewan’s shoulder under his chin. “Don’t go. Stay here with me.”

  “Why?” Ewan jerked, trying to get away. “What do you care? You don’t fucking care.”

  “I do fucking care.” Channon had to swallow because how much he cared was thickening in his throat. “I don’t know what just happened but you’re upset and I give a fuck about you. A lot of fucks. Way too many fucks to let you go do something stupid tonight.”

  “Why?” Ewan shoved himself back, so violently he nearly fell off the bed. “Why the fuck would you care about me? Because I let you fuck me one time? Because you get to protect me? Because you think I’m helpless?”

  “Because you’re my friend!” Channon yelled. It came out louder and harder than he’d meant, and he faltered, shocked at himself. But then Ewan sneered and the whole hot horrible mess just burst out of him. “Because I do, okay? You’re a shitty fucking friend sometimes, but you’re my friend, and no-one gets to make you feel like this.” I’ll kill them first, he thought, and then tried to unthink it because that was just crazy.

  Ewan was staring at him, eyes wide in what was probably horror. He slid off the bed, backing toward the bathroom, and fumbled the door open. “You don’t own me,” he said, but he sounded so weak, and yeah, helpless.

  He shut the door. Channon covered his eyes with one hand, his breath shuddering in his chest. What the fuck was happening? Why was he like this? And Ewan, why wasn’t he letting Channon fix it, whatever it was?