Chapter 17

"Hey," Lyle knocked on the edge of Jason's door. Jason had been staring at his phone for several minutes, still trying to figure out what to do. Not wanting to do something rash and fuck it all up for Devyn even worse. If the police didn't believe him, then Brad wouldn't trust him anymore and Devyn would be--

"You okay? How's Devyn?" Lyle interrupted his thoughts.

Jason glanced up, smiling slightly at the muscled figure filling the doorway. "Come on in," he waved. Then he added, "Close the door."

Lyle grinned slyly as he pushed the door closed behind him. Chris and Trent had already headed up the stairs. Sam had led a stumbling, drunk Brad to his room to hopefully pass out.

Jason found his hands trembling as he thought of what the evidence he held in his hand might mean. He'd barely kept himself calm and collected during the poker game. He found he could barely look at either Brad nor Sam without wanting to scream.

Lyle sat next to him on the bed when he remained silent, obviously sensing his unease.

"So, what's up?" Lyle tried to ask casually, but Jason could tell the man was anxious too. And Jason wanted so much to talk to him, but he wasn't sure just how much he could trust him. After all, Lyle was also one of Brad's hole cards.

"I'm fine," Jason said, trying to smile.

Lyle's hand slid slowly over his. Jason felt his breath hitch.

"No, you're not," Lyle said. "I can tell. This has something to do with Devyn, doesn't it? Brad fired Michael today. Did he find out about--?"

Jason shook his head. "No, Brad doesn't know about that. At least, I don't think so. I think it's because Michael called the police, thinking that Devyn had been assaulted."

"Assaulted? Fuck, is that what happened? Shit, how could I not hear about that?" Lyle breathed. "God, is Devyn alright?"

"Yeah," Jason breathed. "But he says he just fell into the coffee table at his English tutor's house."

"Really?" Lyle narrowed his eyes, and Jason had a moment of hope that maybe he could trust the man. "And you believe that?"

Jason hesitated before shaking his head. "No, I don't. But that's what Devyn said, and I can't prove otherwise."

"Shit," Lyle sighed.

"Yeah, Brad was pretty pissed off last night that the sheriff showed up."

"Fuck," Lyle shook his head, "I miss so fucking much down at the damn stables. I wondered why Chris and Trent were so quiet this morning before I went out."

"So you didn't hear about it last night?"

"No, I didn't get in until after midnight. Apparently, while in the pasture, Brad's horse threw his shoe knocking it against the fence, and I didn't discover it until I was bringing him in last night. Took me a while to take care of it, since I decided to trim--" Lyle cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. "Anyway, I've been out of the loop. I usually am. So, is Devyn okay?"

"Yeah," Jason looked over at Lyle, trying to assess his intentions. If he threw his hand in with Lyle and was wrong...

Lyle's hand slid around Jason's back, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"Look, Jason," Lyle said slowly. "I don't know much about what happens in the house. I don't think Brad trusts me as much as Sam or even Chris and Trent. But there have been times when I've wondered... about things..., which is why I warned you to maybe not tell Brad everything. I suspect he's taken his anger out on Devyn on occasion--"

"And what do you think about that?" Jason asked cautiously.

"It fucking sucks," Lyle spat, "but the kid won't tell me anything. He won't talk to anyone anymore. I mean, he talks to Michael, but I'm sure he hasn't said anything about ...that."

"Lyle, if you knew...if you could prove..." Jason couldn't figure out how to ask what he wanted without showing Lyle his whole hand--and if Lyle called him on it and told Brad...

"I'd probably be at the police station tomorrow," Lyle stated firmly. "Fuck the money for my mother. If he's hurting Devyn--"

Jason suddenly turned, his eyes lighting with relief.

Lyle's hands abruptly cupped his face. "Oh, jeez," Lyle's eyes were wide, searching Jason's expression. "He does, doesn't he? Brad really does abuse Devyn? God, I had hoped that Devyn's fear of Brad was just--"

"Can I trust you?" Jason whispered, his hand snaking up around the back of Lyle's neck.

"Of course," Lyle breathed, dropping his forehead to Jason's. Lyle brushed his lips across Jason's. "I'm here for you."

Jason tightened the grip on the back of Lyle's neck, reveling in the heat of the man's mouth claiming his. He groaned as his heart started pounding, his other hand slid to the man's hip.

"Lyle..."

"Jase," Lyle barely pulled back, his eyes closed as he panted, their foreheads pressed together, "Whatever you have to do, I'll be there."

Jason almost felt like he was going to break down in tears, he was so relieved that Lyle wasn't going to blindly follow Brad's orders no matter what. That Lyle was willing to risk everything to go all in with Jason against Brad.

Jason blinked away all his fears, all his worries for the moment, and focused on the beautiful man in his hands. He wasn't sure what he'd do tomorrow. He wasn't sure what he could do yet. But he knew tonight he could relax in this man's arms, and not worry what tomorrow might bring.

Jason abruptly pushed Lyle back on the bed, his hand sliding up under the man's shirt. Lyle moaned as Jason brushed his finger tips over his ribs, trailing back down towards his belt.

"Fuck, Jason..." he ground out.

Jason smiled down at the man, his hand sliding over the bulge in the man's pants, "Yeah, that's exactly what we're going to do."

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Devyn sat curled up in the enormous black bean bag chair. It was dark now, and he'd grown tired of sitting in the window. He hadn't seen Michael's jeep the last two days.

For some reason that caused his gut to ache.

His pencil flew over the page. Harsh lines, nearly tearing the paper.

Slash.

Slash.

Brad's face.

His hand clenched the pencil, almost causing it to break. He took his anger out on the paper. He had nothing else.

Finally, the paper was practically shredded with deep pencil marks, and he gulped back tears threatening to surface. God, how he hated being cooped up in here. Jason had already locked his door, so he couldn't even go get something to eat. Not that he felt like he could eat right now.

He ripped the mutilated paper from the notebook, balling it up and tossing it to the trashcan.

He heard a thump from the room next door.

Crap, Brad was back in his room. He scrambled to his feet, tucking the notebook away in his desk. He never knew when Brad might let himself in.

And apparently, tonight was one of those nights. Damn it, Devyn cursed as he heard the key slip into the lock of the connecting door, and it clicked open.

"Devyn, Devyn, Devyn," Brad slurred, oozing his way across the room.

Crap, he's drunk. Devyn backed up as his step-brother pierced him with his acid gaze.

When he was close enough, Brad's hand snapped out, and Devyn flinched, expecting to be smacked. But the man gripped the back of his hair and yanked.

"What am I going to do about you? Fighting the clients, costing me money..."

Devyn's eyes widened as he started to push against Brad's massive chest, but a yank on his head had his knees crumbling under him.

"And your 'friend' is much too worried about you for his own good," Brad breathed against his cheek.

Oh, shit. Michael!

"Maybe he needs to have an accident like Kieran," Brad suggested.

^No!^ Devyn wished desperately his voice worked. ^No! Please!^ He gripped Brad's shirt desperately, begging.

"Fuck!" Brad snapped, throwing him to the bed. "Is there something between that nosy brat and you?"

^No!^ Devyn shook his head adamantly, hoping that Brad, in his drunken state, would believe him.

Brad stilled and studied Devyn closely, apparently thinking about whether Devyn could be involved with Michael. Finally, Brad's eyes sparked. "Yeah, I suppose that couldn't happen. Jason would have told me if it was."

^I Just don't want anyone hurt because of me!^ Devyn continued, his body shaking under Brad's tight grip on his hips.

"How noble," Brad sneered. "Well, because the fucking sheriff might come back to check on you, I can't have any extra marks on you, but ... that doesn't mean this is over."

Devyn panted heavily as he waited for whatever Brad was going to do. He suddenly felt two fingers jabbing into the bruise on his ribs. If his voice had worked, the scream that ripped from him would have woken the entire house. As it was, Brad grinned down at him.

Devyn felt himself suddenly flipped over, and his heart started hammering in his throat. Oh, God, no, no, please, no...

But his stepbrother's hand pressed down between his shoulder blades pinning his chest to the bed. Devyn panted, trying to drag in a breath, but between the pain stabbing him from his ribs and the hand crushing him to the mattress, he could barely draw in anything but a few gasps. Devyn tried to kick back with what little energy he had at Brad's legs, but the man jammed his still shoed foot into the backs of Devyn's knees, crippling his ability to use them for anything at the moment, even to support his weight.

Devyn barely registered the rustle of clothes as he buried his face in the comforter, screaming through the agony in the backs of his knees.

A weight pressed against his back. "God, I love your silent screams," Brad leered against his ear. "I can have your pain whenever I want it, whenever my clients want it, and no one will hear it. It was the best decision ever to have Hembry rip out your voice."

Devyn hid his face in the comforter sobbing, knowing the man was right. Brad could do whatever he wanted, even kill him right now, and Devyn could scream all he wanted. And no one would ever hear him, no one would ever come to help him.

When Devyn felt his pajama bottoms yanked down, his panic spiked instantly, like it always did, but the strong hand holding him down just pressed harder, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

He felt Brad's cold hand on his ass cheek. "Since I can't leave marks with my belt," Brad sneered, "I guess this will have to do."

And Devyn shrieked in silent agony as Brad speared into him, fucking him dry until Devyn could feel blood easing the way. Devyn was nearly hyperventilating with the lancing pain and he desperately hoped to pass out.

"See if the fucking sheriff decides to check there for injuries," Brad growled as his seed burned the inside of Devyn's raw channel and he yanked himself out, causing Devyn to gasp, his stomach cramping horribly.

Devyn briefly felt his pajamas yanked back up as Brad's hand on his back finally lifted. Devyn crumpled to the floor, unable to hold himself up with his aching knees. Pain spiked up his spine as he hit the floor, and he rolled to his side, gulping in air.

Devyn gasped as a fist full of his hair was yanked up. "If you or your boy cause me any more trouble," Brad warned, "his little red jeep is going to have some serious trouble."

^No! No, just...^

"I fired the son-of-a-bitch yesterday," Brad stated as he backed away, and Devyn heard the ominous sound of Brad's zipper being yanked up. "So I better not see his ass around here again."

Devyn sucked in a breath as he nodded, instinctively agreeing with whatever the man said. It was probably better that way anyway. Brad had already taken everything else from him--his mother, his hope, his pride, his voice, his dignity, and now Michael. With Michael gone, maybe he'd be able to sink back into his deadened state of oblivion. What did he care what happened to him anymore? Tears leaked from his eyes, trailing across his temple to the white carpet.

Brad staggered back towards the connecting door as Devyn rolled over, crumpling over in pain.

As he panted against lush white carpeting, Brad's words washed over him. Michael was gone. Brad had fired him. Brad would kill him because of Devyn.

Fuck. Devyn felt hot tears slip down his cheeks. He knew he'd never see Michael again now. He could feel his chest constricting as his breaths grew ragged and his sobs heavier. Brad would kill Michael if Devyn ever tried to contact him. He couldn't risk ever trying to see Michael again.

For Michael's safety.

And he tried to drag himself towards the bathroom.

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Jason flicked the belt buckle as his tongue dipped into Lyle's navel. He felt Lyle's hand thread through his hair as he popped the button on the well-worn jeans and slid down the zipper carefully.

Jason immediately noticed the bare skin he'd revealed as the fabric parted and sucked in a breath as he realized that Lyle had gone commando. Fuck, had he always been that way, every time he'd been admiring that tight ass? Geez. He didn't think he could get much harder, but thinking about all the times they'd brushed up against each other, how Lyle had seemed to intentionally almost grind against him, and realizing now that there was so little fabric between them, he thought he might come right there.

He let his breath tickle the fine blond hairs peeking out at him and felt Lyle arch under him. Grinning, he slid his hands up the man's sides, taking the t-shirt with them. He latched onto a taunt brown nipple as he yanked the shirt off the rest of the way, and Lyle hissed in a breath, his body tightening under him.

Jason kissed and licked his way back down the man's muscled abs, following faint blond treasure trail back to his goal. Fingers curled into the waistband of the jeans, he felt Lyle lift his hips slightly to help ease the way for the constricting pants to slide away. Since he was in his bare feet, Lyle's jeans slid from the heavily muscled thighs and were tossed across the room in short order.

Lyle's long cock bobbed in front of him, leaking pre-cum and Jason smiled slyly before engulfing the man in the warm, moist heat of his mouth. Lyle nearly bucked him off, causing Jason to choke slightly when he pushed to the back of his throat accidently.

"Jesus christ!" Lyle gasped, his breathing heavy as he tried to control himself.

Jason slid his mouth up and down the steel rod a few times, breathing in the musky scent of the man. His own cock threatened to burst out of his dress pants and he was glad that he wasn't wearing tight jeans or he knew it would be ridiculously painful at this point.

Lyle hand abruptly gripped his hair and yanked him off, his body shaking with need. "Fuck, if you don't stop, I'm going to cum any second. It's been so fucking long..."

Lyle pulled Jason up into a deep kiss as he fumbled with the buttons of the white dress shirt. Jason could feel that the man was having trouble with the buttons, probably because it was a new shirt and the holes were tight, so he started on the buttons too. As he yanked the shirt off his arms, he realized there had still been one button not undone, but didn't care when it popped off. Lyle was already yanking the white t-shirt underneath off over his head.

Lyle dipped his head, licking a path over his collar bone to his bared chest, laving one nipple with his warm, wet tongue, then the other. Jason's head dropped back with a groan, barely aware that Lyle's fingers had already unbuttoned his black dress slacks and was sliding the zipper down. Jason was so focused on the sensations Lyle's tongue was causing and the feel of Lyle's taunt ass under his fingers, that he didn't notice Lyle's hand slip into the front of his boxers until the man gripped his cock, sliding around to gently squeeze his balls.

Jason gasped, bucking in Lyle's hand and almost losing all control. He drove his tongue into the man's mouth, fiercely exploring the His hands tightened on Lyle's ass, yanking him closer and grinding their groins together.

Jason managed to find his brain long enough to pull away for a second to kick off the dress shoes and help Lyle push down the slacks and boxers. He kicked them away as they both fell onto the bed.

"Shit," Jason groaned as they ground against each other. "I don't have any lube or condoms."

"It's okay," Lyle breathed between ravenous kisses. Then he pulled away and spit into his hand. The hand snaked back between them, grabbing both of their leaking cocks in one hand and stroking them together.

"Oh, shit," Jason groaned as he buried his face in Lyle's shoulder, reveling in the feel of Lyle's thick shaft against his. Lyle's thumb scraped over their leaking heads, drawing more slickness to his stroking.

Jason gripped the man's firm ass, pulling the cheeks apart enough to find the pulsing ring of muscle. He circled his finger over the sensitive skin and immediately felt Lyle gasp with pleasure, the stroking of their cocks increasing.

Jason barely pushed the tip of his finger into the tight ring and suddenly Lyle went ridged. The feel of Lyle's warm cum spurting across their stomachs sent Jason over the edge. His back arched as he thrust into Lyle's hand, riding out his orgasm.

Panting heavily, they lay side by side, waiting for their pounding hearts to slow. Eventually, Lyle rolled to his back.

"Fuck, Jase, that was..." he whispered but his voice trailed off.

"Yeah, me too," Jason breathed as he finally felt like he could breathe normally again.

Both men lay sated and content, unaware of the horror that had happened down the hall.