Warren washed down the pain killers with a gulp of cold tea. He sobbed into the pillow. "Warren, let me in? Please, War, don't do this."
"Go away!" He threw the mug at the door.
****
Scott slid down the wall to sit next to his bedroom door. Warren had been hurt and his wings amputated without his consent or Scott's as power-of-attorney. He'd locked himself away, barely accepting meals. Scott pushed his shades to the top of his head and rubbed at his eyes. He folded his arms on top of his bent up knees and laid his face on them. He'd sleep her for just a minute then hunt down Warren's "friend."
****
Jean roused Scott with a quiet "Slim?"
"What is it?"
"Why aren't you in bed?" She kept her voice even.
"He won't let me in."
"You don't have a key?"
"Don't unlock it. I'll give him a day. Maybe I can break through to him." He lifted his head, eyes closed. "You'd better not stay. He's going to be a bastard. How's Kitty?"
Jean sighed. "Still like a ghost."
"And Kurt?"
"He may be paralyzed."
"Shit." He leaned his head back. He looked worn. She'd never seen him that way before. She sat down next to him, then took his hand.
"It'll all work out. We're strong enough to deal with anything life sends us."
Scott's jaw twitched. "I know. Thanks."
"Now. shouldn't you be in there proving to Warren that you weren't in love with his wings?"
Scott shook his head. "Tomorrow or the next day. Tonight, I'll just stay here."
She squeezed his hand. "I'll bring you a blanket."
"I'll live."
"It gives me something I can do. Don't argue. It's unbecoming." She got up and moved away, afraid to look back. She usually didn't read teammates, but she couldn't help it this time. She'd sensed Scott's overwhelming thought: He's going to leave me. She didn't let the tears come until after she'd delivered the blanket. She sobbed quietly into her pillow.
****
Warren heard his slut's voice in the hall. Why didn't he come in? Oh yeah, orders. Warren stretched, then gasped. The pain was too intense to scream. Tears leaked from his eyes. "War?" Scott's voice came through the door. "You want some breakfast?"
"No, just leave me the fuck alone."
"Please, let me in."
"No." Warren forced himself to the bathroom. He took two more pills. He stared at himself in the mirror. There were lines of pain etched into his face. He tried to flex his wings, but they weren't there. He could feel them just beyond the burning pain. He was normal now. "Oh, God," he breathed. He had no place here now.
There was food on the bedside table. He ate it, not registering any flavor. The pills put him back to sleep, stilling his frantically circling thoughts.
****
Scott had his laptop and was working on a summary of the week when Hank came to check on his patient. Scott saved his work and moved out of the way. "Hank?"
"Yes?"
"You'll need this," Scott said offering his key. Hank took it. "May I?"
"You are his power of attorney, and it is your room too." Scott settled at the foot of the bed as Hank examined Warren. He saw the bloody wounds. Cam had been professional about it. Eventually, they'd heal properly and no one would even know. His poor angel was grounded permanently. Hank finished changing the bandages. He turned to go. Scott kissed Warren's cheek and followed Hank out. The doctor looked over his glasses at him. "Why aren't you working at your desk or sleeping in your room?"
"He told me to get out." Scott's voice was sulky to his own ears.
Hank's brows rose. "Meaning?"
Scott sighed, rolling his eyes. "Hank, think for a minute."
"I didn't think your games extended so far."
"Bedroom," he said pointing at the door. "Not bedroom." He pointed down the hall.
Hank laughed. "Very well. Scott, be careful. He's full of rage. He could hurt you badly. I don't want to have to sew up lashes again. It took me twenty stitches last time he got angry!"
Scott shrugged. "I can handle him."
****
It took seven days and a lack of cash to piss Scott off enough to challenge Warren's moping. He walked into the room with a duffle bag. he stared shoving his socks from the bottom drawer into it. Warren grabbed hold of his hair. "I told you to get out."
"That's what I'm doing. Jean said she'll share her room."
"No fucking way. I should have guessed you 'd run to that cunt." Warren's grip tightened, holding Scott's head down. "It's over, slut. We're over. Take your shit and get out."
Scott twisted in the grip, but Warren didn't let go. "If you want me to leave, you have to let me go." Warren threw him to the floor. He stalked to the bed and collapsed there. Scott finished packing. "My room's at the end of the hall. Even you can find it. Just listen for the music."
"We're over. It's for the best," Warren added more quietly.
"You're wrong." Scott closed the door behind himself soflty. Priority number one was to find Cam. Number two was to get drunk and stay that way so that he didn't hurt anyone else.
****
Warren took two more days before he ventured out for food. Jean smiled at him and made an extra PB&J for him. They ate together at the kitchen table. "Kitty and Kurt are in Scotland. Scott's flying back today," she said.
"So?"
Jean blinked. "I thought you'd want to know."
"We broke up. Enjoy him."
She laughed. Warren stared at her. "He barely talks to me without your permission."
"He's free to do what he wants." Warren frowned at her. "Or who he wants. Probably Logan. He knows how to goad him."
Jean gaped at him. "Warren, he's been with you for five years. He doesn't want anyone else."
"He'll find someone." Warren ended the conversation by walking out.
****
Scott destroyed the evidence he could in the gutter and local dumpsters. He walked to his motorcycle six blocks away, making sure he wasn't followed. He drove off. He dumped his windbreaker in a much deeper part of the city. Some run-away would find it. He dropped his baseball cap into a residential trash-can letting his shoulder-length hair free. He replaced the license plate with the real one before driving to Xavier's. It wouldn't do for anyone at home to figure out that Cam didn't die in a bungled burglary. Well, not bungled to tell the truth. Scott locked the memories away with Jack. He'd forget it ever happened. He locked himself in his room and started drinking.
****
Logan pounded on Scott's door. He smelled booze and blood. "Fuck off." Scott's voice snarled. The older man pounded again. "Lemme alone!"
"I'm gonna keep poundin' 'til you open up."
"Mother fucker." Scott hauled the door open. He was in the middle of bandaging his hand. "Fucking bottle broke when I took cap off. What the fuck do you want?"
"Ya missed lunch and dinner. I smelled blood."
"I'm find. Fuck off." Scott slammed the door in Logan's face. Logan growled at it then left. He could hear Scott crying as he moved away. That made his decision. He went to Warren's room. He opened the door without knocking.
"Yer boy's drinkin' himself sick. He's already hurt himself once. I know yer still drugged up, but if ya don't take care of him he's gonna self-destruct."
"He's stronger than that."
"Only when yer there to support him. Take care of him or I'll call Hank to do it."
"Why don't you just go fuck him? That'll cure his sulks."
"I ain't you and he ain't mine. Me and Jeannie're happy enough."
"He doesn't want me."
Logan frowned. Warren's eyes were glassy. "Yer an idiot, Worthington. Go claim him. Least keep him from gettin' alcohol poisoning. He's been drinkin' all night."
****
Warren blinked at Logan. "Scott doesn't drink."
"Funny, sure looked like he was finishin' off a fifth of scotch." Logan turned and walked away.
Warren considered that statement for a moment. He grabbed his keys, then made his way down the hall. The pills weren't making him as sleepy as before. He didn't bother to knock, just unlocked the door and walked in. He found Scott huddled in the corner, vodka bottle in his hand. He stalked over and grabbed it. He shattered it against the far wall. Scott covered his ears.
Warren crouched down in front of his lover and pulled his hands away from his ears. He continued to hold them. "Scott."
"Leave me alone. You don't want me. You don't have any say in what I do! Leave me alone." Scott tried to pull away. Warren kissed him.
"Shut up." Warren reached for Scott's shades.
"No, I want to see you. I would've slept by the door, but Hank got on my case."
"I'm taking them." He didn't wait for a signal, just took them. There were tears clinging to Scott's lashes. He kissed those tears away. Scott's arms wrapped around Warren's neck. "I'll be okay, Baby," Warren soothed. "I'll move out and you won't have to see me every day. You can call me if you need something."
"I need you," Scott whispered. "Please don't leave me. Don't leave me alone."
"I'm no use to the team except as a bankroll."
"Who cares about the fucking team? You're mine, not the team's. I'll teack you to fly the plane, make you do paperwork. Don't leave me. You can't just let me loose."
Warren held the younger man close. "Hush. You don't need me."
"Yes, I do. I need you more than air. I can't hold it together by myself. Who else is going to put up with me? Fuck." Scott pulled away to wipe at his cheeks. "If you're leaving, just go. I'll deal with it."
"Fine." Warren hardened his voice. "I have your glasses. They'll be in our room. If you want them back you'll have to be sober. And you'll need to admit your sins." He bent forward. "All of them."
Scott shuddered. Warren moved away. He felt tears on his own face. He tucked Scott's shades away.
****
Scott sat amid the empty bottles. He knew he was gaping, but couldn't manage any other reaction. Warren still wanted him? He pushed himself up slowly. He toed his way carefully through the mess to the bathroom. A cold shower might sober him up a little bit. He laughed grimly at himself. He'd be better off just sleeping it off. He found his cigarettes in the medicine cabinet. The lighter was tucked in with them. He tapped one out, then paused. Warren would get pissed if he smelled smoke. He snorted. He smoked it anyway.
****
Warren was sitting up. His back hurt, but Hank had dialed down the dosage on the pain pills. He looked up as the door opened. "I was wondering when you'd show."
"Where are my glasses?" Scott demanded.
"Wrong approach, Baby."
Scott scowled. " I'm going down for lunch. Coming?"
"Sure." Warren made sure Scott's glasses were still on the dresser, then went to the door. He brushed Scott's cheek with his thumb. Scott moved aside. He let warren guide him to the kitchen.8 warren set Scott's hand on the back of an empty chair. "Sit down. When did you eat last?"
Scott shrugged. He turned the chair around and straddled it. He rested his arms on the top of it and rested his chin there. His hair was damp. He looked pale.
"Hangover?"
"Yeah."
"That's your own damned fault."
"I know."
"Why did you do it?" Warren made sure his voice was demanding. He was angry, but he would get satisfaction on that later, when the pills were out of his system.
"I just. . ." Scott drifted off. "I just felt I needed it. I wanted it. I was considering pot, but I figured someone'd rat me out."
"You're right, Then I would have had to seriously beat you. You promised me you'd quit."
"It wouldn't have mattered. You threw me out. Remember?"
Warren closed his eyes.
"You wouldn't even lt me take care of you. What else was I supposed to do?" Scott continued.
"Take care of yourself."
"Why? I"m fucked up. I always have been. You're the only person here who can handle it. Hell, Logan's straight. Hank wants me in counseling. Jean's dating Logan. Kurt's in Scotland. Kitty's too young for me. Charles is on another planet. Who'd care if I just smoked a little? It keeps me from thinking. It keeps me from hurting. It levels out my temper."
"One, it's illegal. Two, it's unhealthy. Three, you promised me. Promises don't come with expirations."
"That's why I didn't smoke it. Give me some credit. I never promised you that I wouldn't drink."
"Very true. Still. . ." Warren let his voice soften into teasing.
Scott's head raised. "Not tonight. My head is killing me."
"Not until I'm off, the fucking pills."
"Were you serious about moving out?"
Warren considered. "I don't want to."
"Then why should you?"
"I'm no use to the team. My wings. . ." Pain washed through him. It wasn't physical.
"War?"
"Without my wings, what do I have?
"What don't you have? Money. Class. Intelligence. Love. Faith."
"You?"
"Anytime. Any place. What are you making?"
"Eggs and toast. I think that's all your stomach can take." They ate quietly. "I'm taking you to see Hank."
"Shouldn't you be resting?"
"He wants me moving as much as I can stand now. You need that hand checked out."
"It's fine."
"I can see the blood."
"It doesn't hurt much."
"We're going to see Hank.. No arguments."
"Yes, sir," Scott replied softly, with a hint of a smile.
****
Hank frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.
"Cut my hand on a broken bottle," Scott said. He was far too pale for it just to be a cut that was bothering him. Hank unwrapped the clumsy bandage. Scott flinched at his touch.
"I'm sorry, Fearless. I'm going to unwrap the bandage to assess the damage. What did you clean it with?"
"Vodka."
"Wast of good alcohol," Warren muttered.
Hank glared at his other patient. Warren straddled the desk chair to supervise. Hopefully, he'd be quiet. "This may hurt. There seems to be a piece of glass still inside." Hank maintained contact as he extracted the glass with tweezers. "You're going to need stitches. Hold this here." Hank guided Scott's hands. He was careful to announce each step of the procedure. "Where are you glasses?"
"Ask Warren."
Hank's brows rose.
"They're upstairs. I have them. He was so drunk I thought he'd break them."
"Bastard," Scott muttered.
"What was that, Baby?"
"Nothing, sweetheart."
Hank looked between the two. He worried about them more than anyone else in the mansion. Their games were dangerous and sometimes colored all of their interactions. Occasionally, Hank wanted to grab Scott and shake him to bring him back to reality. "Do you want something for your head?"
"No, I'll live."
Hank rebandaged the hand. "You're free to go. Just be careful."
"Thanks, Blue."
"You're welcome. Be careful. That could have been much more serious. If you feel a fever or any swelling occurs, tell me immediately."
"Sure."
Warren's guidance was a big clue to what Scott was allowing to happen. Warren needed to feel needed. Blind, Scott needed a guide. Hank shook his head. Leaving his glasses upstairs had been devious, but brilliant.
****
"Where are my glasses?" The question's deliver was off-hand. Warren almost gave up the secret.
"Wrong question."
"May I have my glasses?"
"No."
Scott settled against Warren's chest. Warren wrapped his arms around him. "Why can't I have my glasses?"
"You haven't done the right things."
Scott chewed his lip.
"Tell me your sins."
"Drunkenness."
"And?" Warren demanded
"Willfulness."
"And?"
Scott shook his head.
"And?" Warren demanded more firmly. Scott shivered.
"Anger."
"And?"
"Nothing else. I swear."
"You're lying. You'll tell me the truth eventually."
"Yes, sir." Scott's voice was soft now, sweetly submissive. Warren savored thed sound of it. He caressed Scott's ass.
"Do you deserve punishment?"
"Yes, sir." Scott's cock pressed against Warren's thigh.
"Until I'm off my pain pills, I expect you to be perfectly submissive. You'll do exactly as I say. Any deviation will be punished harshly at the end of the week. Understood? You will not be allowed to come without explicit orders."
"Yes, sir," Scott's excitement was obvious.
"Go to sleep, Slim."
Scott sighed, but settled into Warren's embrace bonelessly.
****
Warren turned over the empty pill bottles. Scott knelt at his feet. "Go downstairs. Strip. Sit in your corner." Scott complied swiftly. Butterflied danced in his stomach. There were still welts on his ass from two days before when he'd mouthed off to get a reaction. He sat on the bare wooden seat and stared at the wall. He didn't move when he heard Warren in the room. After two weeks of submission and frustration in the bedroom, this seem like heaven.
The ring-gag jacked his mouth open for easy use. The small rubber ball in his hand was scant comfort. The collar was stiff and tight, but only an inch wide. "Close youre eyes." Scott obeyed, then nodded. His glasses were gone, replaced by gauze and tape. A tug on his collar brought him to his feet. He was led to what he knew was a table.
****
"Sit." Scott complied. Warren smirked at his eagerness to please. A spreader bar forced his slut's legs apart. Leather cuffs secured his wrists in front of him. "Off." Scott stood, awkward and unsure, straining against the bar. Warren attached the cuffs to the winch that dangled from the ceiling with a large padlock that secured both cuffs and the chain of the winch with a sharp snick. He removed the slack until Scott's body was taut. He picked up his first whip and set to work on Scott's back. He hummed happily as Scott moaned, twisted and teetered.
Warren laughed at his slut's hard cock. He teased it with the whip. He left him there and took a short break. Scott struggled, putting on an excellent show. Eventually, he just stood there, panting heavily, muscles twitching.
Warren stroked, the exposed ribs gently. "I'm going to punish you tonight, slut, but you aren't going to come. if you spill one drop, first, you'll lick it up, then, I lock your cock up so there are no further accidents." He gave the cock a hard swipe, then found his paddle. Scott wouldn't be sitting for awhile when Warren was through.
****
Scott's world was a blur of pain and arousal. He was openly sobbing now, but his cock was ready to burst. He tried to fight his arousal down, but, every blow to his body seemed to strengthen his need. He couldn't help but come, hard. His hands were lowered, but not released. The chain reached the floor. The ring came out.
"Blow your nose," his master instructed, holding up a handkerchief. Scott always felt most helpless, but cherished, when he wasn't allowed even the little things, like holding a Kleenex. He knelt the Master's assistance, then his head was shoved down, his nose pressed to the puddle like an errant puppy. He licked up the semen. His master guided his head with a harsh grip on his hair. He was pulled up by that same grip. What surrounded the head of his cock didn't feel like a cock-ring. He didn't question. "While you're on your knees, I'm going to fuck you."
Even if he'd wanted to, Scott couldn't resist as Warren fucked him. This was the claim he'd wanted since the incident. His cock hardened. He gasped as the spikes in the cuff on his cock bit in. His arousal faded. He focused on feeling Warren's movements. He was claimed, deeply and firmly, by the cock that pounded into his sore ass. Warren froze inside of him, coming hard.
It was heaven.
FINIS