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Territorial Bonds

Chapter ten

“Sam, where are you going?”

The lawyer stopped in the entrance hall of his home, frowning slightly at Alexandra who stood with her arms crossed. She looked as she often had in the past few weeks- angry and short tempered. Sam wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but he suspected it was something to do with Jazz.

“Out,” he replied finally. “I have someone to see.”

“Going to see that whore of yours are you?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at her before dismissing her with a turn, stalking out of the building to where his limo was waiting.

Perhaps he was a little too infatuated with Jazz…spent far too many a thought on him, but he had allowed himself little indulgence over the years. Perhaps a fleeting fancy here or there, people willing to share his bed, but he had never had such a challenge placed before him.

Thinking about Jazz was making Sam aroused, and he adjusted himself with a grimace. It wasn’t time for that now.

When he knocked on Jazz’s door, it was a long time before anyone answered. The light was off and the curtains were drawn, and Sam almost turned to go, but eventually the door was pulled open and he found himself face to face with Jazz.

The young man wavered on his feet, holding onto the doorframe for support. His hair was mussed, his clothing askew, and, Sam noticed with a frown, there was a nearly empty bottle of vodka in his hand. So he had taken the result badly.

“What do you want?” Jazz demanded, his voice slightly slurred by the alcohol. Sam simply gave annoyed noise, grabbing the bottle from the young man’s hand before propelling him back into his apartment. He closed the door behind them, eyeing Jazz with a frown.

“You’re completely off your face.” he stated, watching as Jazz stumbled slightly, grabbing the couch for support. There were more empty bottles on the floor. Had Jazz been drinking himself into a repeated stupor since the trial culmination?

Sam guided the young man to sit on the couch as he moved about picking up the bottles. The answering machine by the door was blinking, telling him that Jazz had five unheard messages and he pressed the button to play them.

“Jazz honey, it’s your aunt Meredith.” She sounded concerned, “We haven’t seen you since the trial- are you alright? Please call me.”

The next was a voice he recognised- Cleo.

“Jazzy. Come on, we’re supposed to be going out today. Pick up.”

It seemed Jazz had been avoiding everyone, isolating himself to deal with his pain. It made a stab of guilt flare up inside him, but Sam ignored it with a shake of his head.

There was another message enquiring as to why he hadn’t gone to work and two more from his aunt, concern growing in her voice with each message. So Jazz had been ignoring everyone, not even going to work- it was his doing.

“Jazz, I…” he began, turning to face Jazz but found to his surprise that the young man was already there. He’d put down the vodka but his hair was still mussed, his eyes looked almost wild.

“You can make it better, right?” Jazz asked, moving closer so mere inches separated them. “You can sort things out, make everything right.” The young man pressed his body against Sam’s, fisting hands in the folds of his jacket. “You want me, right? If I gave you myself, you’ll set it all right?”

Jazz leaned up to press a kiss on Sam’s lips, sloppy in his drunkenness, but willing, soft. Sam froze in surprise for a few moments, his body reacting of its own accord to Jazz’s soft, pliant one, but he forced himself to grasp the young man’s arms, push him away.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but Jazz wriggled out of his grasp, moving close to him again and this time a hand pressed over the growing bulge in his pants, caressing his awakening flesh through the layers of his clothing.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Jazz asked in drunken desperation, hands fumbling with the button on Sam’s pants. It was easy enough for him to slide down the zipper, work his hand inside the man’s underwear to grasp his naked cock.

Sam’s brain wanted him to stop it, to force Jazz away from him, force him to see rationally. But his body responded to the skilled touch, to the desire he had for Jazz since the moment he’d met him.

He barely registered that Jazz had sunk to his knees and there was suddenly a mouth on his cock, a warm, wet and deliciously talented mouth. Despite his drunken mind, Jazz still knew what he was doing, and he used his lips and tongue skilfully, drawing a low groan from Sam’s lips. Stop this! His mind told him, but all he could do was curl his fingers in Jazz’s hair and enjoy the mind-blowing sensations. It couldn’t have been the first drunken blow job that Jazz had ever given, not with the skill he had.

Sam groaned again, finally using his grip in Jazz’s hair to yank his head back. The young man stared up at him through half lidded eyes, lips parted so sensuously that Sam was sorely tempted to steal a kiss.

“You don’t want it?” Jazz asked, licking his lips slowly. Oh life was cruel. Offering him everything he wanted but laying upon him such heavy guilt.

It seemed the decision however, had been made for him. Jazz got to his feet slowly, wavering slightly as his head swam. His hands fell to the hem of his t shirt and he pulled it up over his head, dropping it on the floor beside him. He wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, how his mind was rationalising what he was doing, but he couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t get his mind onto how wrong the situation was. He had been feeling so numb since the verdict; devoid of his usual emotion- perhaps he thought Sam could force him to feel…something. Part of his mind told him that perhaps if he gave Sam what he wanted, then the lawyer would live up to his promise to make Grady pay.

The lawyer hadn’t made a move by the time Jazz had pulled off his pants and he stood before him in just his boxers. He didn’t hesitate to remove his last item of clothing, just stumbled slightly as he was pulling them off and then stood in front of Sam naked. His cock was flaccid between his legs, but felt a sudden jolt of arousal as Sam stepped closer, seizing his arm roughly. Mismatched eyes stared up into the lawyer’s icy gaze and Jazz found himself hardening slowly.

Fingers grasped his chin roughly and a mouth descended upon his own, forcing a hard, possessive kiss upon him. Sam’s tongue invaded his mouth as the fingers tightened on him, trapping him where he was. The sight of him standing naked, all perfect pale flesh, had been too much for Sam, and the rational side of his brain seemed to have vanished. His cock was so hard as he stared at Jazz that he knew he had to take him up on his offer, even though it would mean bad things would come later.

Sam’s free hand wandered down Jazz’s back as he kissed him, moving to grasp a bare buttock roughly. His finger teased around the young man’s opening and Jazz gasped into his mouth, his cock now reached its full, proud hardness. Sam was more aroused than he had ever felt, more desperate to take Jazz than he ever had been. He guided one of the young man’s hands to his cock as he pulled back from the possessive kiss, moaning softly at the slender fingers wrapped around him.

“Where’s…your bedroom?” he asked as calmly as he could, and Jazz paused, lowering his head slightly before pointing to a door across the apartment. Sam picked up the young man, taking him into the bedroom, where he deposited him on the bed roughly.

The bedroom was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor; books were laid in a pile in the corner as if they had been knocked over. The room was tiny, barely big enough to fit in the small double bed and the wardrobe.

Sam chose to ignore everything around him as he climbed onto the bed, crawling over Jazz’s form to steal another kiss from his slightly swollen lips. He forced the waiter’s legs apart, pressing between them where he could rub the length of his cock between Jazz’s buttocks, revelling in the delicious friction.

He had to pause then. Move off Jazz to remove his own clothes, then returned to the bed to straddle the young man, pin him to the mattress with firm hands.

It was then that he stopped to look at Jazz as he lay pliant between him. His hair a mess, eyes down…his body so tantalisingly displayed. Sam couldn’t help but slide his fingers over Jazz’s chest, enjoying the feel of perfect, soft flesh. It was wrong, it was so wrong…but no one ever told Sam he was wrong. He always got what he wanted, eventually, and he wouldn’t let guilt stop him.

He bent to lap at Jazz’s nipple with his tongue, enjoying the noise it pulled from the other. When he bit down on the flesh, Jazz bucked upwards with a soft cry, wrestling an arm free a throwing it across his face, covering his eyes. Even though he was drunk he knew he didn’t want to look at Sam, to see the satisfaction on his face…to remind himself that he was giving in.

If Sam was feeling guilty, it didn’t seem to affect him as he was happy enough to go and search for something to use as lubrication. When he returned, he settled between Jazz’s legs, pushing them apart to accommodate him. He arranged the young man as he wanted him – knees bent, feet flat on the bed – seemingly uncaring of whether Jazz minded him taking control.

Jazz tensed instinctively at the first touch of a lubricated finger against him but his body, even in his drunken state, remembered the old routine it had been so used to. He lay still, forcing his body to relax as Sam slid a finger inside him slowly, preparing him for something much larger. A second finger and Jazz bit his lip at the pain it caused, his body tight after three years of abstinence. It hurt, but he didn’t feel he had the will or energy to react – it was easier to simply lay and let Sam take from him what he wanted.

Jazz’s lack of reaction puzzled Sam. He was known to be an extremely talented lover – he could reduce anyone to a moaning mess in mere minutes- but the waiter was so still and silent. Even when he crooked his fingers inside Jazz’s body, pressing against his hidden prostate, the young man only tensed slightly, biting down harder on his abused lip. Was he deliberately being difficult? Trying to make Sam work hard for what he wanted, in punishment? As if he hadn’t worked hard enough already to claim him.

Sam growled, removing his fingers and grasping Jazz’s thighs, suddenly feeling angry at his stillness. He was trying his best to make the young man enjoy it, but he was being deliberately difficult. At least, that’s what Sam’s brain rationalised to him, his mind so thick with lust and desire as it was.

Knowing that he hadn’t finished preparing Jazz, he still surged forward, pressing his cock up against the young man.

“I almost forgot you then, Jazz,” he growled, feeling unusually free of his eloquence and rather atoned to his animalistic side, “I almost forgot that you like to be controlled, maybe even hurt, hm?”

As he shoved himself forward, pressing himself through the tight, unyielding muscle, he finally got a reaction. Jazz’s body arched up, a cry of pain falling from his lips. As he fell limply to the sheets, Sam could see blood on his mouth where he had bitten his lip too hard and instead of stopping as he knew he should have done, he continued in his entry. He leaned over to lap the blood from the other man’s lip, pushing supple legs wider, pressing deeper into the body beneath him. It wasn’t long before he had pushed his entire full, thick length into Jazz and he had to stop himself for a moment, try to collect his thoughts.

His mind wanted him to slip into his other self, so overwhelmed with sensations as it was, but he fought to hold it back. Still, it seemed to have control of his hands as he dug fingers into Jazz’s thighs, wrenching his legs apart as far as they could go. It controlled his hips as he began to move inside the young man. He finally had what he had desired from the moment he met Jazz – sweet, euphoric ecstasy.

Jazz’s body was so tight and warm around him, insides yielding to him as he withdrew almost completely and then thrust back inside. Part of him still screamed at him to stop, but he couldn’t now. The other side of him was firmly in control, guiding his too rough movements, his wild, uncontrolled fucking.

All too soon he could feel his completion approaching and he moved faster within Jazz’s body, digging fingers into his soft skin. He didn’t notice that, in his body’s straining to turn, his fingernails had lengthened into claws that ripped into Jazz’s flesh. His teeth, too, had lengthened, desperate to find flesh to sink into and his body let them do just that as he lurched forward, latching onto Jazz’s shoulder.

It was as he felt the tang of blood in his mouth that he came, releasing copiously into Jazz’s taut body, his mind lost in the blinding euphoria.

It was only when he came down from his pleasure that he noticed how still Jazz was beneath him. His cock was flaccid against his body, long since denied of any pleasure. His body was pale, blood smeared on his shoulder and running down his thighs.

Sam withdrew quickly, lurching off of the bed. Had he really let his other side take control in such a delicate situation? He had really hurt Jazz so much?

The guilt seemed to have escalated a thousand times over and he felt his gut wrench as Jazz finally moved his arm, looking up at him with dull eyes. He sat up slowly, wincing in pain as he did so. Had he really done it? He had virtually raped him.

“Jazz, I…” he began, but an angry hiss from the young man stopped him.

“Just go away,” Jazz forced out, getting to his feet and stiffly walking towards the door. By the time Sam thought to follow him, the young man had already locked himself in the bathroom.

Sam went to find his clothes and pulled them on hurriedly, his mind still reeling from what he had just done. He was overcome with the desire to apologise, to take Jazz in his arms and soothe his hurts, but he knew no words, no expensive trinkets would help him this time. Jazz hadn’t known what he was doing. Drunk and distraught, he had thought that giving Sam what he wanted would solve everything – but Sam knew he shouldn’t have taken his offer. And to let his other side take control…how had he let it happen?

“Jazz, please let me in.”

He knocked on the door to the bathroom and after a moment’s silence, he went to knock again but found himself interrupted by the sound of Jazz vomiting.

“Please let me in. I can look after you.”

“Leave me alone,” came the young man’s reply finally, his voice hoarse, “I don’t need you to look after me.”

It seemed the more sober, rational part of Jazz’s brain had finally kicked in.

“Jazz…”

He was cut off by the sound of glass shattering as the waiter threw something against the door.

“Get out! I never want to see you ever again!”

Sam did just that. He knew there was no sense in trying to reason with Jazz as he was – perhaps there would be time for that later. He took one last glance around the apartment Jazz called home before he left, shutting the door silently behind him.

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