"He said I had to watch what you did to each other. I'm watching. Do what he said. Or let him go and get out." Quinn didn't need Drew to tell him what Nathan would likely do to Quinn if he left. He knew Nate better than anyone, even his parents. And this was not the man he knew. This was the stranger who tried to kill him on the beach that day. This was the stranger who spit blood in his rapist's face. This was that man.
Drew relaxed his grip on Nathan's wrists, but Nate didn't so much as budge. His fingers clawed the comforter holding it tighter. He seemed to be willing himself not to move. As if … as if he really was reliving that night. Drew looked up at Quinn again, there was no apology in his eyes this time. He dropped his head to rest between Nathan's shoulder blades. Between the words that scarred his soul.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, dragging one hand from Nathan's wrist slowly up his arm to tangle in his hair. "I'm so sorry."
Drew yanked hard on the handful of hair, hauling Nate's head up. Nate growled, baring his teeth but he allowed the treatment. He glanced at Quinn, anger filling his eyes. Drew looked to Quinn … almost as if he were asking Quinn for advice. There was no fire in his eyes. This wasn't what he wanted. His cock told a different story. He was so hard, Quinn could see the outline of the tip through his pants, a wet spot formed in the gray material as Quinn watched.
"Pull his hair harder," Quinn said, his own dick not adverse to the scene playing out before him. He struggled to pull himself into a better position against the headboard. He pulled one foot up and spread his legs slightly as he bent his knee. He wanted his lovers to see that he approved. "I think he likes it when you pull."
Drew smirked slightly, the emotion filling his eyes. He'd lost his fear, at least, knowing that Nate wasn't going to come off the bed and tear him apart. "Are we using lube for this? Condoms?"
Quinn inclined his head toward the table on Nate's side of the bed. "Ask him, he's the prude."
"Fuck you, Quinn," Nate snarled and tried to pull his hair from Drew's grip.
"I'm not the one with my pretty ass in the air, baby. And you're the only one who's naked as a fucking jaybird. Guess that means you're the one getting fucked today." Quinn yanked on the cuffs making them rattle against the headboard. Nathan scowled at him. "Suck my dick, Nate," Quinn growled back, returning Nate's scowl.
"That sounds like a plan, he needs something in his mouth," Drew said, twisting Nate's hair until Nate grunted. He wouldn't scream, even if Drew pulled his hair out by the fistful. Nathan would die before he let anyone know he was hurting.
Quinn could see the pain in his lover's eyes now. It was hidden behind the anger that flashed when he forgot to shield his emotions. He wasn't cold. He had never been cold. He just hated being hurt. And that's what he was doing now. Hurting. Quinn had hurt him. Deeply. Maybe not by fucking Drew last night, maybe it was the leaving. Or both.
"Suck my dick," he whispered, aware that this changed the game. He wasn't supposed to be a part of this. Nate wanted him to watch. He wanted to hurt Quinn. "Please."
Drew yanked harder on Nathan's hair pulling his shoulders off the bed. Nate had no choice but to rise up on his hands and knees or be scalped. Drew forced him to crawl up the bed between Quinn's legs. He stopped him before he got to Quinn's crotch and forced his head down. "Kiss his boot."
Nate growled loudly, his shoulders stiffened. Drew had taken it too far and Nate was done. Or he looked like he was done. Drew grabbed the wrist he hadn't totally released and yanked it behind Nate's back. "I say kiss his boot, you say, 'yes, sir,' Marine. Am I clear? I outrank you. 'Yes, sir, Sergeant Major, sir.' Say it."
"Fuck you, Drew. You motherfucking prick," Nathan hissed the words between clenched teeth. He was caught in a web of his own making and Drew finally grew a set of balls. He twisted the arm back and pulled his hair again. "Fuck … yes, sir, Sergeant Major, sir."
"Good boy." Drew eased the pressure on Nathan's arm and hair and pushed his face down to Quinn's boot again. "Kiss it."
Nathan kissed the toe of Quinn's beat-up old boot. The pair he'd worn when he had nothing else to wear. He couldn't remember putting them on this morning. Hell, he'd forgotten he owned them. "Lick my boot," Quinn said just for the hell of it.
"Lick it," Drew echoed him, shoving Nate's head down again when he tried to pull away.
"Fucking assholes," Nate sneered, but he stretched his tongue out, the silver ball at the tip flashing in the bedside lights. He glared at Quinn the whole time he licked the leather. Something desperate seemed to flash in the icy depths.