Under Pressure Page 5

  Maybe Channon couldn’t fix it. Maybe it was too broken.

  But he knew who could.

  ❧

  That particular ringtone always brought a smile to Jack’s face. Maybe because he knew whose picture would be looking up at him from the screen. He put down his tablet and reached for his phone. “Hey, sweetheart. How’s the conference?”

  “Something happened and I need your help, Sir.”

  He sounded close to panic. Jack sat up, his pulse jumping. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. And Ewan’s freaking out, but he’s not, um, hurt.”

  Thank God for that. “Tell me what happened.”

  It was messy. Channon didn’t have all the details. Someone Ewan had used to know who’d said something unpleasant, and now Ewan was having some kind of panic attack.

  Jack closed his eyes. Well. That was better than it could have been. And Channon had asked for help, called Jack for it, the right thing to do.

  But what was the right thing for Jack to tell him? Ewan needed…what? Nate? Nate wasn’t there. Only Channon was, and Jack felt certain that Channon couldn’t take care of Ewan the way he needed. Not without help.

  “Okay. Sweetheart, you did the right thing. Now, I need you to be calm. Can you do that?” God, could he handle this? It was, Jack thought, a lot.

  “Yes, Sir.” He sounded better already. Jack wished he could pet Channon’s hair, reassure him with a touch and a kiss. But he couldn’t, all he had were words to cross the space between them.

  They would have to do.

  “Good boy,” he said, injecting all the warmth and approval in it he could manage, picturing it wrapping around Channon like a hug. But that wasn’t going to be enough. He knew what he needed Channon to do tonight, what Channon had to do, if he cared about Ewan as much as he seemed to.

  Jack didn’t hesitate, didn’t question it. His instinct was: if it had been Channon in that hotel room having an anxiety attack, and the only person there was Ewan? Jack would want to know that Ewan would take care of him, however he needed. But instead it was Ewan freaking out, and Jack wasn’t about to let Nate down by telling Channon he couldn’t help his friend.

  So he said, “You’re going to have to be strong for me, okay? For Ewan’s sake. Can you do that?”

  He could feel Channon’s determination over the phone. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. I want you to get your laptop out. I’m going to call Nate and get him to Skype you. Okay?”

  Channon breathed out. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Nate can talk you through whatever you need to do to take care of Ewan. I want you to listen to him and do what he says. As long as you’re okay with it too. And Channon? I’m giving you permission to do whatever you need to, tonight.”

  “Sir?”

  Jack licked his lips, aware that this was not for him. This was giving Channon permission for something that he needed to do, not something Jack wanted, or for Jack’s entertainment. This was for Channon, and Nate. And Ewan. It warred against the part of himself that wanted nothing so much as to lock Channon up in a cage and keep him selfishly for himself. But.

  “Ewan needs you. And he needs you to be strong for him. To do whatever he needs to feel safe again. Do you understand?”

  There was a heavy silence on the line. “You trust me, Sir.”

  “Absolutely. I know you’ll do what’s necessary, whatever it is. But that isn’t an order. I can’t order to you do this. I’m just telling you that whatever you choose, you have my permission.”

  Channon huffed out a breath, short and hard. “Okay, Sir. I’ll do my best.”

  He was such a good boy. Jack closed his eyes, picturing Channon’s face, earnest and trusting. “I know you will. I love you, sweetheart. Do your best.”

  When Channon hung up, Jack called Nate and let him know what was happening. Nate took it in his stride. “Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll take care of your boy,” he promised. “I’ll call you later.”

  And then it was just Jack, alone in the condo without Channon.

  What would happen? He knew what was likely, and the thought of it—of Channon caring for Ewan, being sweet with him, maybe making love to him—it didn’t make him angry. Because this feeling wasn’t anger, it was some other kind of terrible possessiveness. Channon was his. But Channon was tied to other people too, his friends if not his family. And this was important enough that Jack couldn’t deny Channon the chance to take care of someone he cared for. For Channon’s sake, if not for Ewan’s.

  When he came home Jack would remind him who he belonged to. Of course he would. But for now, he’d simply trust in Channon, and love him, and know that whatever happened, Channon would try his best.

  Chapter Four

  When he knocked on the bathroom door, Channon wasn’t expecting an answer.

  But. “What?” Ewan yelled through the door.

  Channon took a deep breath and opened the door a couple of inches. “Can I come in?”

  The shower was running. Ewan muttered something, but it was lost in the running water. Then— “Fine.”

  Channon went in. He started unbuttoning his shirt, shrugged out of it and hung it on the back of the door, then unbuckled his belt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You said I could come in,” Channon told him, faking more confidence than he felt. “I’m coming in.”

  “I meant the bathroom, you eedjit,” Ewan grumbled, but he didn’t stop Channon from climbing naked into the shower with him.

  “Hi,” Channon said, feeling stupid but also…

  “What are you doing?” Ewan asked, blinking warily at him. His eyelashes were wet. This was all so heartachingly familiar.

  “Nate told me to.”

  Ewan looked horrified. “You told Nate?”

  “I told Jack,” Channon confessed. He gave Ewan a bit of a shove, because he was hogging all the water. “Not all of it, just some of it. Jack told Nate and Nate told me to go get in the shower with you. He’s on Skype,” Channon added, going for full honesty here and hoping this would work.

  Ewan’s mouth wrenched into a pained shape. “What else did he tell you?”

  “That I should do this,” Channon said, and he leaned in to kiss him.

  It was like kissing a statue. Ewan held perfectly still, and when Channon pulled away he had this wounded expression on his face that made Channon’s bones ache. “That a pity kiss, then?”

  “No.”

  “Obligation? Nate told you to.”

  “Nate’s not the boss of me,” Channon said, lifting his hands to Ewan’s hips and pressing into him with his thumbs. “Jack gave me permission, but I don’t have to do anything. So.”

  Now Ewan looked conflicted. “You want to fuck me in the shower?”

  “I want to fix this.” Channon stroked over Ewan’s hipbone, so sharp and fragile. “I want you to kiss me back. And I want to go to bed, but we don’t have to do anything. Nate’s waiting.”

  Ewan’s expression crumpled and he turned his head aside under the water, avoiding Channon’s eye. “Why do you put up with me?”

  “Because. You put up with me.” Channon tugged him gently out of the shower. “Come on.”

  It took patience, but he managed to coax Ewan out of the shower, into a towel, and out into the bedroom.

  “Hey, baby boy,” Nate said, tinny over the laptop speakers. “Having a bad night?”

  “I hate that you know,” Ewan snapped. He flung himself on the bed, rolling onto his belly and folding his arms over his skull, but Channon saw him turn his head to keep his mouth free. “I hate that Jack fucking Nash knows.”

  “You hate everything,” Nate said, almost as though he agreed. “I know. Wanna talk to me about it?”

  “No.”

  “We’re going to talk about it later, then.”

  Ewan growled, but that was all.

  “Channon, can I get you to do something for me?” Nate said, phrasing it like a question, but it really wasn’t. r />
  “Sure,” Channon said, glad of something to do.

  “I want you to give Ewan a hug. Just pin him down if you have to.”

  Channon hesitated for a second, but then he climbed up on the bed. “Okay.”

  There was some grumbling, but Ewan allowed Channon to wrap around him and bury his face in Ewan’s neck. He could hear Ewan’s pulse, heavy under his skin. He wanted to kiss it, just mouth at him until he calmed down, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, or if it would help.

  “That’s good. Can you pet him for me?”

  Channon ran a hand up Ewan’s side, stroking his shoulder tentatively.

  “Yeah, like that.” Nate breathed out, leaning back in his chair. He looked tired, or maybe just worried. Channon felt bad about it. If it had been Jack on Skype looking like that, Channon would be heartbroken that he’d caused Jack any kind of distress. But with Nate and Ewan, he didn’t know. Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was okay.

  “Is this okay?” Channon asked, low down in Ewan’s ear.

  Ewan made an affirmative sound, rolling over onto his back and looking up. He was washed out in the light of the laptop. Channon wondered when his face had become this thing, so familiar and so indescribable, something Channon looked forward to seeing.

  “You want to know, don’t you?” Ewan said. It wasn’t clear who he was asking, but Channon nodded anyway, and Ewan closed his eyes, exhaling hard. “You already do.”

  It confused him. Unless…Ewan meant that he should be able to guess. “Um.” Channon thought about it, putting the pieces together. “Ross. You knew him from Glasgow.” Ewan grunted, his brow drawing down like he was cross. “He offered me money for you. To spend the night with you.”

  “Something like that,” Ewan murmured, but it sounded like it cost him to say it.

  So Channon tried again. “He thought you would. He thought I was your boyfriend, and that you’d just say yes, and let him…whatever he wanted. Right?”

  Ewan nodded, eyes still closed, his mouth a thin line of hurt.

  “Because your old boyfriend—your old Dom used to do that. Give you to people. For money.”

  “I thought it was just the one time,” Ewan said, and it sounded small and hurt. “I didn’t know he did it…not with people we knew. I thought it was just a bit of fun. That he liked me fucking his friends. But it wasn’t like that.”

  Channon felt it somewhere behind his ribs. If Jack had done that to him, had sold him to people and never told him, he’d be devastated. How it must have hurt Ewan to know that someone he trusted had done that. How fucking betrayed he must have been.

  He leaned his brow on Ewan’s, inhaling the clean scent of his skin. “I’m sorry that happened. And I’m sorry that it upset you. But I’m not sorry that I was there. I’m glad it’s me who knows, and not someone who could hurt you.”

  “You think you can’t hurt me?” He sounded incredulous. Channon pushed himself up on his palms to look down at him.

  “Of course not,” he said, but Ewan’s mouth was a wide, dark slash, twisted in misery.

  It was wrong. Channon didn’t know what to do. Ewan looked like the world was ending, and all Channon wanted was to fix it but he didn’t know how.

  And then, Nate’s voice— “Kiss him.”

  Channon bent his head, kissing Ewan on the mouth, and this time Ewan kissed him back, his teeth sharp and savage in Channon’s lip. Channon cried out in pain, and Ewan made a wet, distressed sound, pressing sweet pecks to his mouth.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Ewan crooned, “I’m sorry, don’t—”

  “It’s okay,” Channon told him, but then Ewan was in his mouth again and it was hard to think.

  Was this all right? He felt okay about it, but he didn’t know how Ewan felt or what he really wanted. He had permission from Jack to do whatever he was okay with, whatever Ewan needed, but did Ewan strictly need this?

  “That’s enough, baby boy,” Nate said, and Ewan fell back on the bed, gasping for breath, his mouth red-kissed and wet.

  Channon slid away from him, wondering if he should feel guilty. He didn’t. This was fine, this was…actually good. Ewan looked less like he was dying, and Nate was smiling on the laptop screen as if it was all some kind of wonderful secret.

  And Jack had told him to. If he wanted to.

  “You okay, Channon?”

  Channon nodded, not taking his eyes off Ewan. “I’m good, Mr Scott.”

  Nate chuckled. “Okay. I want you to sit up, legs over the edge of the bed, facing me.” Channon did this, aware that his towel had come unhooked and he was, essentially, naked. “Yeah, like that. You can lean on your palms, if you want.” Channon did this too, his skin pricking all over with anticipation. “Ewan, get down on your knees.”

  The look on Ewan’s face was one part stubborn and one part hungry, but he went down between Channon’s legs, slipping out from under his towel as he did. He knelt on the floor, sitting back on his heels, and tilted his head back to look Channon square in the eye.

  Channon felt his breath catch. There was so much defiance in Ewan’s face, this streak of ferocity that said, I’m not doing this for you, and I’m not doing it because Nate said. I’m doing it because I want to.

  No submission in him at all. Channon breathed a sigh of relief, because he didn’t want that from Ewan, not now or ever.

  “Now, baby boy. Ask Channon if you can suck his cock. Ask him nicely.”

  Ewan’s mouth writhed like he wanted to spit. Then it settled into a smirk. “Can I please suck your cock?”

  He was such a cocky little asshole. Channon tried to keep his face absolutely expressionless. “May I,” he said.

  He heard Nate laugh. Ewan bared his teeth and for a second Channon thought he was about to get bitten in the junk. “May I suck your cock, pretty please with sugar on top?”

  “You may,” Channon said, smirking back at him.

  His smirk didn’t last long; Ewan gave him a wicked grin and leaned in, running his tongue the length of Channon’s cock in one hot, wet swipe. Then he slurped Channon into his mouth, sucking on him hungrily and Channon had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He’d been almost soft but Ewan got him hard in seconds, and his tongue was a wicked, flickering thing, darting along Channon’s length. Channon sucked in a breath, tried not to pant, curling his fingers in the bed covers beneath him. He looked up; Nate was watching, a slight smile on his face. Channon felt trapped by his eyes, pinned to the bed. Ewan ran his mouth up to tease the tip of Channon’s cock with his tongue, and Channon had to remind himself to breathe.

  “Put your hand on the back of his head,” Nate said. Channon did. “Hold him down.” Channon hesitated. Nate smiled, tilting his head to one side. “He likes it when you choke him a bit. So you need to get your cock in the back of his throat.”

  It sounded brutal, unkind. And yet, if it had been Jack’s hand on the back of Channon’s head, and Jack had shoved his cock in deep enough to choke him…

  Channon’s gut fizzed with the thought of it, so he pressed, a little, and then a little more, and Ewan moaned and spluttered, still sucking hungrily at him.

  The whole thing was surreal. Channon didn’t hate it. How could he? Ewan’s mouth was a silky heaven, wet and tight in all the right places, his tongue a velvety torture, and Channon had few defenses against his onslaught. He hadn’t come in days—no, more like a week. Jack had said he could when he got home, a reward for being so good, and now…

  Now he had permission, but he didn’t want to. He curled his fingers in Ewan’s hair and pulled hard. Ewan came up with a soft, hurt gasp, and Channon thought he’d gone too far, thought he’d hurt him, but then Ewan’s eyes flashed upward and that was the face of a man who was getting exactly what he wanted.

  Was this how Channon looked at Jack’s feet? No, it couldn’t be. Ewan was too fierce, and Channon felt so soft when he was down there, a weak, pliant creature in Jack’s hands. Ewan was different. Everything they did was different. Eve
n if, from the outside, it sometimes looked the same.

  What Ewan needed, right now, wasn’t what Channon would have needed in the same place. He felt it in his gut, a rightness about it that he couldn’t explain. So.

  “That’s enough,” he said. He couldn’t say it like Jack, or like Nate. He didn’t have that in him. But he gave Ewan a shove, just enough to rock him back on his heels. “Show me your dick.”

  Ewan’s eyes widened. The moment stretched between them, fraught with tension. If Ewan said ‘no’ Channon thought he might wilt with embarrassment, but then Ewan licked his lips, dropping his chin to look down as he wrapped a hand around his cock.

  “Like this?”

  “Yeah,” Channon breathed, relieved. “I wanna see you jerk off.”

  Ewan whined in his throat, but he did it, started stripping his dick with fast flicks of the wrist. He bucked up into it, fucking into his fist, and his body was this taut, frantic thing, all lean muscles and sharp edges. He looked desperate. Channon’s mouth went dry at the sight of him, but he kept his hands to himself, fingers locked in the rough cotton of the towel caught under him, breathing short and sharp as he watched.

  “Can I,” Ewan croaked, but he stopped to clear his throat. “May I suck you off?”

  Channon shook his head. “I don’t wanna come.”

  It made Ewan writhe, like Channon was hurting him. “Then…may I suck your balls? Please?”

  Channon nodded, spreading his thighs, and Ewan came up between them eagerly, taking Channon’s balls into his mouth and sucking on him messily. It was unlike anything Channon had ever felt before, not like Jack licking over his junk to make Channon squirm. This was different, and with a burst of clarity Channon realized why.

  This was service. This was worship. He’d never felt it because it wasn’t what Jack did to him at all. How could the same thing from two different people be so utterly disconnected?

  It made him light-headed, overcome. Was this what it was like for Jack when Channon worshiped him? Almost too much to bear?