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Territorial Bonds

Chapter six

Blake paused in the entrance hall of Sam’s manor house, looking around at the butler that stood behind him, after shutting the door. After years of living with Sam, he still found it amusing that the man had a butler. It was so…old fashioned, but it was so Sam. He was a modern guy, but he was rooted in tradition on a number of things.

“Good afternoon, Master Blake.” The maid approached him with a smile, holding out her hand to take his jacket. “Did you have a good trip?”

Blake had been away for a few days on business. He was an extremely intelligent man and often handled all the problems that Sam either could be bothered or was too busy to deal with.

“It was fine.” Blake replied nonchalantly, looking around at the stairs. He wondered where Sam was, since he usually knew when either Blake or Alexandra were back and always came to greet them.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked the maid and she frowned slightly in response.

“Mr Taylor is in his office. He hasn’t come out all day.”

Being a very sought-out lawyer, Sam felt he had no need for a proper office building. Instead, he had a room in his home turned into a large office, complete with a small library in the next room, filled wall-to-wall with law books. Clients lucky enough to have him represent them would have to meet at his home under his terms.

Blake nodded at the maid briefly, then headed up the stairs towards Sam’s office. He had to wonder what was up with the man. He had been a little different in the few days before Blake had gone away, more thoughtful perhaps. He had thought that it was to do with the trial coming up, but…he wasn’t sure. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was something to do with the attractive, young waiter from Le Loup d’alpha.

“Sam?” He pushed the door open without knocking, finding the lawyer sat behind his desk, staring at his computer screen. As Blake moved round closer to him, he saw an image of Jazz on the screen. It seemed that Sam was reading up more information about him, when he should be researching for the trial.

Blake sighed, slipping his arms around Sam’s shoulders from behind him, pressing his body as close as he could with the back of the chair in the way.

“Hello Mr Taylor,” he said in a low voice beside Sam’s ear, trailing a hand down his front. The lawyer placed his hand over Blake’s own, squeezing the slender fingers slightly.

“Welcome back, Blake,” he replied somewhat quietly, “Did you have a good trip?”

“Hmm.” The blond shifted closer so that Sam could feel his breath warm on his neck. “I would rather have stayed here. Has Alexandra been warming your bed?”

Sam shook his head. “She’s been busy…besides…” he trailed off, looking at Jazz’s picture on the screen, “I don’t understand it, Blake. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Blake sighed. “Seems like you have a little obsession, Sam.”

“That’s not what we do. Not people like us.” Sam rose to his feet, dislodging Blake and stalking to the window to stare out. “He should be begging me to take him, not making me crawl after him on my knees like a dog.”

The blond followed him to the window, sliding his arms around the lawyer’s bigger frame, pressing once more against his back.

“Since when have you ever begged like a dog?”

Sam sighed. “It feels like it.”

“I saw you with him in court.”

Blake had been sitting with Alexandra, watching Sam defend Deacon in court. In truth, he had been surprised at the line of questioning Sam had taken. Alexandra had backed the decision to implicate Jazz for the crime, but Blake had been dubious. It could have been compassion for the boy that had lost everything, or just caring for Sam. He knew the lawyer probably wouldn’t have gone through with it. While Alexandra wanted Jazz locked away so that she would have more of Sam for herself, Blake wasn’t as selfish.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Sam,” Blake touched the man’s hip softly, “He’s just a stubborn human. He’ll come around.”

Sam suddenly shook his head and turned quickly, grasping Blake by the wrists and pulling him closer.

“Listen to me acting like a love-sick teenager,” he said with a small smile, “I’m a red-blooded male and eventually, all little humans fall at my feet, begging me to have them.”

Blake grinned up at the man, tossing his curls over one shoulder. He gave Sam a sultry look.

“You like it when they beg, don’t you?” he asked, beginning to unbutton his own shirt. “When the humans beg you with sweet words and pretty lips. Spread their legs and hold out their arms to pull you closer. Let you in completely.”

Sam growled low in his throat as Blake’s fingers tugged down his zipper and slipped into his pants. He yanked the blond’s shirt down over his shoulders and lowered his head to attack the other’s neck, nipping, biting, tormenting a patch of skin until he left a prominent, red love bite.

Blake’s hand squeezing him almost too hard was exactly what he needed, but his mind still shifted to thoughts of Jazz. He wondered how it would feel to have the young man’s hand on him; or his mouth. Or perhaps his face as Sam forced him down against his will and took him without restraint.

His desire for that domination had him growling again, grabbing Blake in a tight grip and yanking off his clothes. It had him turning the blond and pinning him against the desk, his chest pressed to the smooth wood. It had him biting down on the other’s shoulder as he entered him without thought of preparation.

Perhaps a human would have fought, kicked, struggled, but Blake let it all happen with a lazy grin on his face. He welcomed Sam’s domination, as he always had done. It was a trait of who they were, and what Sam represented. He arched his back and moaned, did everything that the lawyer wanted, but he knew he was thinking of Jazz the whole time.

When Sam finally had Jazz, then he would willingly step back and let them be, but until then, he would have his fun, and he would enjoy it.

Nomine was standing at the front desk of the restaurant, talking on the phone in hushed tones as Jazz entered. When he saw the other male, he waved a hand in greeting, but quickly turned back to his phone call as if in a hurry to end it.

Jazz frowned at his strange behaviour and made his way out to the back to drop off his jacket. He sighed at the bouquet of beautiful, dark roses that sat on the desk out the back and the small box that sat next to them with a card propped against it. He didn’t have to guess who they were from, it was obvious; he was surprised that Sam had the cheek to bother him after what he had done at the court house.

The flowers went straight in the trash, but he paused in throwing away the box, curious as to what it was. It turned out to be an expensive looking silver bracelet set with alternating blue and green stones, the same shades as his eyes. He had to admit it was enchanting and instead of throwing it away, he stored it in his locker under a pile of his things. Jazz told himself that he kept it as it would be a shame to throw away something so expensive. He was almost a hundred percent sure he meant it, too.

He opened the card with some trepidation. It read: My little Monroe. Perhaps you think I should apologize for my actions in court. For an apology, please accept this little trinket. It reminded me of you, the colours of your eyes that glare at me so. I wonder if you will still glare as you lay under me. Time will tell.

It was signed with a simple S, the same as the others.

Jazz crumpled the note with one hand, throwing it in the trash along with the flowers. He was tempted to throw the bracelet away after all, but left it as Nomine entered the room, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You got the flowers then?” he asked, smiling when Jazz nodded. “So who’s your lover, hm? What was in the box?”

Jazz shook his head, not wanting to show him, but Nomine insisted and eventually, the young man relented, showing him the bracelet.

“Wow,” the pink haired male breathed, “It’s beautiful. This guy, whoever he is, sure has a thing for you, Jazz. Put it on.”

He wasn’t given room to argue as Nomine simply took his wrist and fastened the bracelet around it. For something so small, it felt heavy, as if it carried with it a great burden. He supposed the burden would be Sam’s intense attraction towards him.

As the two went out the back to have a quick cigarette before the restaurant opened, Nomine pestered him about the identity of his mysterious lover, wanting to know all the gossip he had to offer.

“Come on Jazz,” he pressed, “It’s not like it’s going to hurt anything. I’ll keep it quiet.”

Jazz rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a lover, Nom. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You can’t keep anything quiet.”

Nomine leaned back against the wall next to him, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled above him in the freezing air. He turned his head to look at Jazz, noting the unhappy line of his mouth.

“You’ve been getting a lot of gifts, Jazzy, expensive ones at that. This guy has gotta have some serious feelings about you…”

“I don’t like him, okay?” Jazz interrupted, turning to him with a frown, “I’m not asking for these gifts. I just want him to leave me alone, but he keeps pestering and pushing and I’m sick of it.”

Nomine stared at him for a while, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Then go tell him that.”

Angry, Jazz turned away from him, staring at a stain along the wall of the restaurant.

“I’ve tried,” he said with a frown, “He won’t listen to me. Won’t leave me alone.”

Jazz heard a soft chuckle from behind him and Nomine moved around to within his eye shot, relaxing back against the wall in front of him.

“Then get the police on him. He’s harassing you, right? You have a lot of evidence against him.”

Jazz stared at him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Perhaps the police wouldn’t believe him over the rich, prominent lawyer, but he did have a lot of evidence to back him up. He didn’t have to end up in jail, just a restraining order would do. It would give him at least space to think without Sam being there at every turn.

“Nom,” he looked up quickly, “Can you cover for me? I need to go do something important.”

Jazz didn’t give the other male time to answer before he turned and disappeared inside the restaurant to grab his jacket. He had found out where Sam lived after a little research- a big manor house on the edge of town. It wouldn’t take him too long to get there, and thankfully, it wasn’t as cold as it had been on previous nights, so the journey wouldn’t be too nasty.

It took him twenty minutes walking at a brisk pace to reach his destination and he stood for a while, staring through the gates at the huge house ahead of him. It seemed that Sam lived in absolute luxury, shut away in his huge home with everything he desired. Jazz had half a mind to turn around and leave, unwilling to put himself through the bother of having to see the man again, but he forced himself to press the buzzer at the gate, alerting the relevant person in the house that he was there.

After what seemed like a long time, a voice spoke to him, asking him his identity.

“Jazz Monroe,” he replied in an annoyed tone, “I’m here to see Sam Taylor.”

The voice told him to wait and he did so for a while, moving from one foot to the other impatiently, rubbing his hands together to restore some of their warmth. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a loud click and the gates began to swing inwards, allowing him access to the manor’s grounds.

The stones of the long drive way crunched beneath his feet as he made his way towards the house. He found to some surprise that the door was open by the time he got there and there was a man waiting; elderly, with a tight frown on his face. He allowed Jazz to enter the building, then followed him inside, closing the door behind him.

“Follow me.” he said in a bored tone and Jazz did as he was told, following the man through into what looked like a living room. He was told to sit and he perched on the edge of one of the expensive looking couches while the butler disappeared.

He was gone for what seemed like a long time and while waiting, Jazz got to his feet, moving towards the large fireplace to inspect the framed photos that sat on the mantelpiece. There were photos of Sam with Deacon, Blake, Alexandra and other people he didn’t recognize. It seemed they were at a dinner party from the glasses of champagne in their hands and the smiles on their faces. In one picture, Alexandra had a possessive hand on Sam’s arm, seeming to glare at Blake, who was drawing away the lawyer’s attention. It made the young man wonder why he was having a relationship with the both of them, and how they felt about his determined pursuing of Jazz himself.

Jazz was just inspecting the last of the photos when someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned to find Sam standing in the doorway, dressed in an impeccably smart, dark suit.

“My my,” he said in an amused tone, “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Jazz frowned. “It’s not a social call. I came to tell you to leave me alone, or I’m going to the police.”

He expected Sam to at least have the decency to look irritated at him, but the lawyer just laughed.

“Silly little Monroe,” he teased, drawing closer until he was near enough to take hold of Jazz’s chin, tilting it up towards him. “You have no solid evidence. You could have bought any of those things yourself.”

Jazz hadn’t thought of that. If he’d gone to the police and Sam decided to have a word with them, he could easily make it sound like Jazz was just trying to get his attention since he was such a rich and well known man. He would have ended up being the one to look utterly foolish.

Sam leaned closer and Jazz raised a hand to push him away only to find it caught in a strong grip in midair. Sam glanced to his wrist and he had to follow his gaze to see what was drawing his attention. The bracelet. Why had he let Nomine put it on him? Now Sam would think that he had wanted to wear it.

He hated the self satisfied smile on Sam’s face.

“You claim to want nothing to do with me, but you wear my gift so openly.” he said, looking Jazz in the eye. “What’s the real reason you came here?”

Jazz opened his mouth to speak, but found himself staring into Sam’s rather enchanting eyes. He had to really think hard before his thoughts would gather coherently.

“I want you to leave me alone.”

“Is that all?”

Sam released him, turning and moving towards a small table at the side of the room on which a bottle of brown liquid sat.

“Brandy?” he asked as he poured himself a glass, but Jazz just glared at him, leaving him to set the bottle down and take the first sip of the expensive liquid that trailed down his throat like smooth fire.

“Did you hear what I said?” Jazz asked, folding his arms with irritation and Sam smiled at him, crossing to stand before him once more, pressing him back against the mantelpiece.

“I heard what you said.” He set the glass down, reaching a hand to brush back a lock of Jazz’s hair only to find that he shifted quickly. “And I’m afraid I can’t do that, little Monroe.”

Jazz’s look was one of almost desperate anger.

“Why not?” he demanded, and Sam just smiled.

“Because I’ve made up my mind that you’re going to be mine and I won’t stop until that is the case. However…” He trailed off, taking another sip of brandy and seeming to think for a while. “I’ll make you a deal, little Jazz.”

The young man watched him dubiously.

“What sort of deal?”

Sam moved to press Jazz to the wall, looking down at him with a wild hunger in his eye. Even the young man’s scent turned him on and he felt himself growing uncomfortably hard within the confines of his pants. But he had Jazz in his home, where he wanted him and he forced himself to stay back a little so the other wouldn’t know of his arousal.

The lawyer raised a hand to lift the young man’s chin once more towards him and he leaned down slightly, his breath warm on Jazz’s face.

“I will agree to stop sending flowers and gifts to your home and your work,” he began with a smile, “If you agree to go on a date with me.”

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