The moment they closed the door to their room, Jay was on Sebastian—fingers scrabbling at his tie, undoing it and yanking open the first few buttons of his shirt. He stared at the collar around Sebastian’s neck, mouth open, breathing heavily.
Then, with a pained groan, he dropped his forehead to Sebastian’s chest.
It wasn’t the reaction Sebastian had been expecting; he brought a hand up to the back of Jay’s head, resting it there. “What’s wrong?”
Jay took a sharp breath, exhaling roughly into Sebastian’s shirt. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Sebastian paused to consider all the bites and bruises Jay had given him over the past year or so; all the times he’d pinned Sebastian down or shoved him into walls. The time he’d chained Sebastian to his bed and come tantalisingly close to putting a cigarette out on his skin. “Yes, you do.”
“That’s not—” Jay smacked his head against Sebastian’s shoulder, as if trying to knock some sense into himself. “I don’t want to be like him.”
Sebastian’s heart sank through the floor. “Jay.” He shifted his hand to Jay’s face, pulling him away from his chest and tilting his chin up. “Please look at me.”
Jay kept his eyes down for a long moment; when they finally met Sebastian’s, they were red and haunted.
Sebastian swallowed down the emotion welling in his throat and said, “You are nothing like Collier.”
“I could be.” Jay’s voice was raw, shattered. “If I let myself.”
Sebastian shook his head and said, unthinking, “You really think you could make me do anything I don’t want to do?”
“Yes,” Jay replied, simply. “You’d let me.”
And when Sebastian tried to deny it, he realised he couldn’t.
“You’d let me do anything,” Jay went on, accusing, “wouldn’t you?”
All Sebastian could think to say was, “I trust you.”
There was something like terror in Jay’s eyes.
“I trust you,” Sebastian repeated, reaching down to take Jay’s hand. “I trust you to tie me up and let me go again. I trust you to hurt me and take care of me, after.” He took a slow breath. “I trust you to stop when I say ‘no.’”
Jay made a small, wounded noise.
“I’m safe with you.” Sebastian guided Jay’s hand up to the collar. “Let me belong to you. Please.”
Jay’s pupils were blown wide, his mouth open, cheeks flushed; his fingers hooked through the collar, dragging Sebastian down into a possessive, commanding kiss.
“Please,” Sebastian gasped into Jay’s mouth, as Jay kissed him again and again, “please, please—”
With a hungry groan, Jay pulled away—and when Sebastian followed, chasing his mouth, Jay shoved him against the door.
Sebastian stayed where he was put as Jay took a few steps back, eyes raking over Sebastian’s body.
“Clothes off,” he said.
Sebastian obeyed immediately, shrugging his jacket onto the floor and fumbling open the remaining buttons of his shirt. Jay backed off a little further to sit on the edge of the bed, watching intently as Sebastian kicked off his shoes and shoved his trousers down; he took his own jacket off, undid his tie and popped the first few buttons of his shirt, but that was all. When Sebastian stepped out of his pants, entirely naked except for the collar around his neck, Jay shuffled further back on the bed, settling on his knees.
“Come here,” he said.
Sebastian did as he was told, and Jay reached out to grasp his arm, turning him until he was facing away from the bed. He guided Sebastian to sit on the edge of the mattress and moved in close against his back, shirt brushing over his bare skin. Sebastian breathed out a moan. Everything felt so loud, every part of him sensitive to the slightest touch.
Jay hooked his fingers through the collar again, tugging Sebastian’s head back to rest against his shoulder. His other hand played across Sebastian’s chest, tracing the edge of one pectoral muscle before drifting over his sternum, teasing down his belly.
Sebastian arched up into the contact, reaching back blindly to touch Jay in turn—
“Hands on the bed,” Jay said sharply.
Sebastian whined behind clenched teeth, but obediently set both hands on the edge of the mattress. Jay’s fingertips tripped across Sebastian’s thigh, edging ever closer to Sebastian’s cock but never quite closing the distance.
“Jay,” Sebastian groaned, spreading his thighs, fingers clenching in the bedspread. “Please.”
Finally, Jay’s hand wrapped around his cock—but even that wasn’t enough. Jay kept his grip light, the motions of his hand slow and teasing, and Sebastian couldn’t help rolling his hips up into the touch, desperate for more.
Jay’s breath was hot against Sebastian’s ear as he murmured, “Do I need to tie you down?”
The tone was all threat, but it was an offer. The choice was Sebastian’s. He could be good, fight down his own impulses and hold still while Jay tormented him—but Sebastian didn’t want to fight, tonight. He wanted to surrender.
He wanted to fall, and know Jay would be there to catch him.
Sebastian lifted a hand from the bed, reaching for his own cock—and, as expected, Jay caught him by the wrist. He clicked his tongue in Sebastian’s ear, chiding him.
Then he was moving across the bed, dragging Sebastian by the collar, manhandling him onto his back. He straddled Sebastian’s waist, weight settling over him, and tugged his own tie from where it still hung, undone, around his neck. He grabbed both of Sebastian’s hands and moved them up to the headboard, quickly looping the tie around his wrists to bind them in place.
Then he sat back and met Sebastian’s eyes with a questioning look. Sebastian replied with a small, short nod.
A look of relief and gratitude flashed across Jay’s face before he bent and pressed a short, fierce kiss to Sebastian’s mouth. He nibbled his way down Sebastian’s neck, his chest, and Sebastian shifted restlessly against the bed, heels slipping over the bedclothes as he spread his legs to make room for Jay between them.
Jay slid down the bed until he was level with Sebastian’s hips and dragged his tongue over Sebastian’s cock. Sebastian moaned and arched up into his mouth, tugging at the bindings around his wrists just to feel them resist, but Jay was already pulling back.
He slid entirely off the bed, rummaging around in his suitcase for a moment until he found the strip of condoms. Tossing it onto the bed, he finally began to undress properly—slowly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off. He met Sebastian’s eyes as he unbuckled his belt, knowing he could do nothing but sit there and watch.
Then he shoved his trousers down and, finally naked, climbed back onto the bed. He unwrapped a condom and rolled it onto Sebastian with quick, impatient motions; swinging a leg over Sebastian’s hips, he sank down onto his cock in one abrupt motion.
“Fuck,” Sebastian groaned, tugging at the headboard again, making it creak.
Jay’s hips rolled at a brutal pace, riding Sebastian hard. He looked magnificent: flushed, eyes bright, grinning breathlessly down at Sebastian as if he were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Nothing in the world mattered except Jay’s touch, the glint of sweat on his collarbone, the red flush of his parted lips. The hungry, commanding look in his eyes.
Sebastian tipped his head back with a whine, offering—begging—and Jay immediately bent, tugging the collar out of the way so he could mouth at Sebastian’s throat. Then he was biting, sucking bruises into vulnerable skin as Sebastian arched and moaned beneath him.
Jay was moaning, too—high, strained sounds that quickly took on a frantic edge as he ground his body down into Sebastian’s with desperate urgency. Sebastian couldn’t do much to help him along; it was, quite literally, out of his hands.
There was nothing to do except let Jay use him. Nothing to be, except Jay’s. Sebastian’s climax hit with a sudden, wrenching rush, leaving him breathless and gasping.
Jay groaned into Sebastian’s throat and pushed himself upright, one hand braced against Sebastian’s shoulder, the other reaching down to touch himself. He rocked desperately against Sebastian, racing toward his own peak, and the clutch of his body around Sebastian’s quickly tipped from pleasure into raw, overwhelming sensation.
It hurt. But if Sebastian asked Jay to stop, he would—even now, wound up and desperate to come as he was—and the pain wrapped around him like an embrace. A promise.
Jay’s mouth fell open on a shuddering gasp, eyes clenching shut as his body shivered around Sebastian’s; he fell forward again in a barely-controlled collapse, and Sebastian let out a sharp grunt as Jay’s dead weight slumped over him.
For a little while all he could do was breathe. Jay’s chest rose and fell against his, both of them drenched in sweat, and Jay was nuzzling into Sebastian’s neck again—more gently this time, pressing reverent kisses to his skin.
Then Jay sat up and eased off him. He shuffled up the bed, fumbling at Sebastian’s wrists where they were still tied to the headboard.
“What are you doing up there?” Sebastian said in a sleepy mumble, craning his neck around to look.
“Trying to undo the knot,” Jay muttered back. “Fuck, it’s tiny now.”
Sebastian sighed and rolled his wrists, stretching out the velvet of the tie until he could slip his hands free.
“Of course.” Jay rolled his eyes and slumped back against the pillows, stretching out next to Sebastian.
Sebastian was coming back to Earth a little, a multitude of little discomforts creeping into his awareness. He tied off the condom and dropped it into the bin under the bedside table; as he settled back into the bed, Jay tugged him over to lie against his chest. Sebastian relaxed into him, eyes drifting shut, loose and relaxed and content.
Jay was touching his neck, fingers playing along the edge of the collar. He worked the buckle open, slipping it off, and Sebastian made a small noise of protest.
“You’re not sleeping with this on,” Jay replied, lightly admonishing. His fingers were touching bare skin, now—stroking over his throat, prodding lightly. Between the mauling Jay had given him and the way he’d been yanking at the collar, Sebastian had no doubt a spectacular array of bruises was forming.
“How bad is it?” he murmured.
With a thoughtful hum, Jay replied, “You brought a scarf, right?”
Jay had found just about everything he needed in Reginald Bailey’s phone backup: the upcoming flight to Brussels was scheduled in his calendar, and his emails included a booking confirmation for a private car to the airport. Intercepting the car proved an unexpected challenge; the company’s dispatch system was infuriatingly low-tech, which ruled out most of Jay’s ideas for man-in-the-middle attacks.
It was Sebastian who suggested they just contact the driver and offer him several hundred pounds to borrow his car and uniform for a few hours.
And so it was that Jay pulled up in front of Bailey’s country house near Harrogate, looking for all the world like the private driver who’d been dispatched to bring him to the airport.
Bailey was on his phone as he approached the car. Jay stepped out and took his suitcase; Bailey barely acknowledged him, sliding into the back seat as Jay opened the boot.
Jay grunted a little with the effort of lifting the suitcase; it was gigantic, and Bailey hadn’t packed light. He settled it next to an identical bag, already waiting in the boot.
Bailey continued to ignore Jay as he dropped into the driver’s seat, and the twenty-minute journey to the airport was conducted largely in silence.
Leeds Bradford Airport wasn’t enormous; it was really just the one terminal, and Jay was one of only a handful of cars pulling up to the drop-off area. He circled around to the boot and opened it, retrieving a suitcase—the other suitcase—and handing it off to Bailey.
Without a word, Bailey strode into the airport, dragging the bag behind him.
Amina arrived for her shift at Brussels Airport customs to the news that they’d received a very interesting tip. She was lucky enough to be on duty in the enhanced screening area when her colleagues brought in a visibly annoyed Mr. Reginald Bailey.
“What’s this all about?” Bailey said sharply, glaring her down from the other side of the desk. “It’s been a long flight and I have places to be.”
Amina pulled Bailey’s suitcase off the conveyor. “Is this your bag, sir?”
“You’re the one looking at the tag. You tell me.”
Amina gave him a flat look. “Yes or no, sir.”
Bailey rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “Yes, it’s my fucking bag!”
“And you packed it yourself?”
“Of course I fucking did!”
With a nod, Amina set the suitcase on the desk and unzipped it. A metre-long antique sword in a decorated leather scabbard was jammed diagonally atop the bag’s other contents, just barely fitting inside.
Bailey froze, his eyes going wide.
Amina carefully unwedged the sword and set it aside. The clothes beneath were rather generic: socks and underwear and t-shirts of the sort usually bought in bulk. Hidden among them was a black velvet bag; inside the bag was a necklace, strung with green stones—likely emeralds.
Methodically removing the remaining clothes from the bag, Amina was only a little surprised to find a paper-wrapped frame beneath. She carefully peeled away a strip of the wrapping to reveal the painting inside.
Amina would have to check to be sure, but all three looked an awful lot like items that INTERPOL had recently added to their stolen art database.
She contemplated this for a moment before turning her attention back to Bailey. “Would you care to explain, sir?”
Bailey’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. No sound came out.
Jay doubled over, lungs burning as he frantically gasped for breath, pulse roaring in his ears.
There were 199 steps leading up from Whitby’s old town to the abbey at the top of the hill. Jay had cleared, at a guess, about a third of those before his body threatened to shut down entirely.
Sebastian, the bastard, looked as though he were enjoying a brisk hike. He stood with his hands on his hips, grinning down at Jay where he sat crumpled on the steps. “Take your time,” he said brightly.
Jay gave him a glare of withering hatred.
It was a few more minutes before he could drag himself upright and continue up the steps; he had to take another break on the way, and a third once they’d reached the top. The path ahead led past a graveyard surrounding an old medieval church. The tombstones were massive, each of them easily half as tall as Jay, and many of them were overgrown with moss.
“Just fucking bury me here,” Jay wheezed out, huddled on a small bench at the top of the stairs.
“You’re not dying,” Sebastian replied with a low chuckle.
“Keep laughing.” Jay gulped air into his lungs. “You’ll pay for it later.”
Sebastian’s amused smile took on an inviting edge. He had a scarf around his neck, and remembering the vivid bloom of the bruises beneath it sent a lick of heat through Jay’s body.
With a low groan, he pushed himself to his feet.
The grounds of Whitby Abbey were surrounded by a high stone wall; admission was cheaper than it had been for Rievaulx, but not by much.
“Twenty-four fucking pounds,” Jay hissed as they passed through the gate. “That’s twelve for each of us. For rocks.”
“I can afford it,” Sebastian replied easily. “You can afford it. I’ve seen you pay more than that for a pint.”
“In London,” Jay shot back. “Nobody in London knows what anything should actually cost.”
Sebastian cheerfully ignored the reproach in his voice.
Whitby Abbey wasn’t quite as impressive as Rievaulx had been; it was smaller and more decayed, with only a few crumbling walls and pillars still standing at the centre of a wide green hilltop. As Sebastian led the way through the rubble, his hand slipped into Jay’s.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
They were going back to London tomorrow, and Sebastian had asked to visit the abbey before they left—but Jay suspected that wasn’t what Sebastian meant.
He followed Sebastian out to the edge of the hilltop. It was grey and overcast again, but the wind was light, rustling through the long grass in waves that seemed to echo the roar of the sea below. From up here they could see much of the surrounding countryside, moors and patchwork fields and red-roofed villages and—
“Car park,” Jay said, staring. “There’s a fucking car park.”
Sebastian was the very picture of innocent curiosity. “Is there?”
“We could’ve driven up here,” Jay said, in furious epiphany. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Sebastian finally cracked and dissolved into laughter.
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