19. Hart

"We're not alone, sweetheart," Cane grunted as he sat in the cushy armchair in Hart's bedroom, naked and sprawled low to allow Hart to sit on his lap.

Hart was riding him, head thrown back, hands around Cane's neck as he bounced up and down on his cock. He had been restless when they'd arrived at the house with Cane's things, grateful that his brothers and a surprised Morgan were too stunned to ask any questions as they cleared the doorway.

He'd ignored Fix's questioning stare and the spluttering from Ash as he threw expletives after them while Morgan tried to calm him. Hart didn't have time for any of it. Or the presence of mind. He just had one singular thought in his head.

He'd practically shoved Cane through the house and up the stairs, corralling him into his room and then pouncing, needing to feel him. Needing to have him. He'd thrown Cane's things into a corner, ripping the clothes off his body and throwing them carelessly about his immaculate room. He did the same with his own until they were both naked and pressed together head to toe.

He'd pushed Cane into the chair and climbed on top, ignoring the warnings that he wasn't stretched, that he'd hurt himself, that they had time and could slow down.

Hart didn't want to hear any of it.

He just wanted to feel.

Cane's wounds were tender, bruises harsh and dark, visible even against the tattoos. Cane had been more than roughed up and somewhere beyond the haze, Hart knew he was hurting him with his actions, but it didn't stop him taking what he needed.

Cane didn't stop him either.

He gripped his hips and helped slam him down harder, making Hart really feel it. He hit his prostate with every movement and Hart couldn't help the moans and screams falling from his lips as he rode him harder, faster.

"Shhh." Cane tried again to quiet him, but Hart didn't care.

He raked his nails down Cane's chest, his cock trapped between their bodies, getting the friction he craved.

He was so close he could taste it.

He leaned forward, gripping Cane's tattooed pecs as he sank down one last time before coming between them. Through the haze, he heard Cane hiss at the sting of Hart's nails on his already abused flesh. Hart wanted to let go, but he couldn't force himself to. His brain whited out, the sound of his own hoarse voice drowning out anything else.

Vaguely, he noticed Cane coming inside him, his entire body locking up under Hart's. White nothingness had painted the backs of his eyelids and detached him from reality almost completely.

Distantly, he could feel someone pushing at him. Arranging his limbs until he was standing on wobbly legs, empty and shaking. He could feel himself being turned and directed somewhere, body lax as he followed along.

He was led into a different room, and it wasn't until water splashed his overheated skin that he finally tuned back in.

As his mind cleared, he realized Cane was washing him as best as his body would allow, running rough hands over Hart's body, enveloping them both in the familiar scent of Hart's bodywash.

Hart sagged against the side of the shower stall, eyes half-lidded as they ran over Cane. The bullet wound on his cheek was bleeding, aggravated again by the water, turning it pink. He looked shaky on his feet and more vulnerable than Hart had ever seen him.

Something inside him loved it, and he felt distantly horrified, almost sick to his stomach…before the feeling passed like it had never been there at all. He allowed himself to be steered out of the shower, onto the fluffy towel thrown on the floor of his bathroom.

"You should have killed them," he said before he registered the words coming out of his mouth. They had no inflection. It was as casual a statement as a comment on the weather.

Cane scanned his face for a moment, then shook his head. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do!" Hart said, grasping his wet arm and digging his nails in. "They'll try again and you know it."

"Well, it worked shit for them this time," Cane said, roughly drying them. "I'll make sure it goes the same next time."

"I don't want there to be a next time," Hart hissed, batting the towel away.

"I'm fine," Cane said, but even as he spoke, the wound on his face let out another slow trickle of blood.

Hart stared at it for a few long seconds, watching its progress down his face. His lifeblood slowly seeping out. Draining. Would it leave him a husk eventually if it kept going? Taking and taking and taking until there was nothing left…

That couldn't be allowed to happen.

"Hart?"

Hart blinked back to himself, the strange thoughts sinking back into quicksand. He could barely even recall what they'd been. He refocused his gaze on Cane's face and raised a hand to hover over the wound. "We'll ask Black to stitch this for you. He's good at it."

"I don't need stitches." Cane glanced at himself in the steamed-up mirror. "It isn't that deep. Just give me a painkiller. Or a beer. Works about the same."

"I just said you do," Hart snapped. He captured Cane in a stare-down until the other man relented.

"Fine." Cane rolled his eyes. "Psycho cherub can stitch me up."

Hart got himself dressed in some un-ironed suit pants and a polo shirt and texted Black while Cane slowly shuffled into his own clothes and sat on Hart's pristine coverlet. He lay back in a stretched-out gray Henley and his usual baggy jeans, propped against the pillows.

He groaned, holding his ribs. "Definitely need that beer."

Hart approached him, fretting. "What's wrong?"

"Fucking you after getting my ribs tenderized wasn't exactly the smartest decision I ever made, let's just say that."

Hart didn't feel guilty or ashamed. That would be a ‘normal' reaction, wouldn't it? He wondered briefly why that was before the thought drifted away.

"Do you want ice?"

"If that ice comes with beer poured over it."

Hart grabbed the first aid kit and broke a couple of the instant ice packs in there. He walked over to Cane's side and pulled his shirt up, placing the cold packs against his skin. Cane hissed, either from the pressure or the sting, but he reached up to hold them in place. His eyes found Hart's face.

"Taking care of me, sweetheart?"

Hart flushed, feeling a fierce, foreign edge to the starburst in his chest that made his heart hammer in a dangerous arrhythmia.

He wanted Cane to be well. It was like it had become an imperative suddenly hardwired into his brain. But he also wanted to do harm to those who had done this in the first place. He was already thinking up ways. How he could find them. What he could do…

A knock at the door snapped him out of the spiral. Hart's head jerked around, his thoughts falling silent, but still lurking insidiously inside his head.

He moved to the door and opened it up, finding Black on the other side with a pink rhinestone case under his arm. Behind him stood Ash with a thunderous expression.

"You're not welcome," Hart told him, the voice in the back of his head placing the words straight on the tip of his tongue to be delivered. "Black, come in."

Ash sputtered as Black slipped past easily, his small frame fitting neatly through the gap between the door and Hart's body.

"What the fuck, Hart?!" Ash exclaimed. "What the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain it later."

"Explain now!" Ash growled, eyes darkening. "You disappear from work without a word about where the hell you're going, and then you turn back up with Cane, covered in blood might I add, and an armful of his stuff like this is some hotel. Everyone is here. They want to know what the fuck is going on."

Hart blinked. He hadn't realized everyone was home.

To be honest, he hadn't thought of much. He'd moved up to his room with Cane as if in a haze. He still felt murky now, swimming in his own head and trying to find dry land. He pressed a finger to the ever-present headache in his temple.

"Hey, Ash." Morgan's voice came from the direction of Ash's bedroom. The smaller man approached his boyfriend dressed in his usual knitted cardigan that reached his studded boots and black everything else. He laid a hand on Ash's arm. "Calm down, Cursebreaker."

"He just—"

Morgan reached into the pocket on Ash's thigh and dug around until he pulled out a golden lighter and a lollipop. He placed the lighter in Ash's hand, then unwrapped the sucker and stuck it straight into Ash's open mouth.

"There you go," Morgan said, making Ash sag a little in defeated acceptance, before glancing at Hart surreptitiously. Hart had no idea what those dark eyes were saying. If they were judging him. Cursing him out. Sympathizing.

"Just…gather everyone in the living room and I'll explain it then," Hart said, needing them both to go away.

Then he slammed the door.

He turned to see Black eyeing him strangely. "That was rude."

"Like you haven't done it before," Hart said.

"Exactly," Black said slowly. "I would have done it."

Hart glanced over to see Cane was also frowning in his direction. Hart rubbed his temples harder, fighting the oppressive pain. Couldn't everyone get off his case already? Like he didn't offer them enough already. "Can we not do this right now?"

Black pursed his lips but nodded, turning to Cane. "So what have we got?"

"I just need the cut on my face stitched. The fractured ribs will have to be wrapped or treated by a caster," Cane said.

"Part of the curse?" Black asked, laying out his case and pulling a chair out to sit beside him.

"Not exactly. Just people who want to kill me," Cane said.

"Righteous."

"Because you were cursed," Hart said. Fuck, he needed a cigarette. "They wouldn't have been after you otherwise."

"Oh, I dunno. They seemed a little too eager to band together and do me in. Feels personal," Cane said.

"What?"

"It was a joint hit. The whole underbelly of the city wants me dead."

Black whistled and side-eyed Hart for a second. "You're a hell of a catch, aren't you," he said to Cane.

Hart clenched his jaw, refusing to blush and finding it surprisingly very easy not to. He had to assume his brothers had heard them. He didn't know why it suddenly didn't bother him much. There was a part of him that was screaming to be mortified, but it was muffled under a blanket.

He shook his head, trying to clear it as Black examined Cane's face and grabbed the things he needed. He was all too thrilled to be able to both look under someone's skin and poke them with a needle to stitch that skin back up. His hands were steady and precise as he wrapped up the stitches on Cane's cheek, smiling up at him like he'd just made a new best friend.

Hart bristled at the look, and at the hands lingering on Cane when there was no need for them to be there any longer.

"Thank you, Black," he said, voice curt and sharp, but Black didn't really care about it.

"No problem," he chirped, cleaning his things and putting them away in the box. "Anything else you need me to look at? Sure there's no guts spilling anywhere?"

"No guts," Cane said.

"Too bad," he said. "I'll go join the others in the living room. I'd uh…be prepared. We were all pretty shocked."

"Thanks," Hart said through his teeth, relaxing only when Black left the room.

"What the fuck was that, sweetheart?" Cane asked.

Hart turned his head to look at him. "What was what?"

"Were you jealous of your brother?"

"Why would I be jealous?" he asked, knowing he sounded too argumentative for it to work. "You like him or something?"

"He's sweet," Cane said, judging Hart's reaction. Hart couldn't help but give it though, like he had no control over the rising anger. The desire to suddenly and viciously grab Black by his angelic curls and rip.

His heart hammered against his ribcage and his hands shook.

"I never cared for sweet though," Cane finished.

Hart tried to swallow his response. He swayed on his feet for a second, his insides burning with the need to just stay inside and be with Cane. To never leave his room again. Cane was his.

He walked toward him, knowing Cane could recognize the look in his eyes.

"Your brothers are waiting," Cane warned.

"Let them wait," he said, straddling him on the bed.

Cane grunted in pain when Hart leaned forward to try and invade his mouth with his tongue. He broke the kiss before Hart could take it further.

"What is up with you?" Cane asked, holding his biceps tightly and peering into his eyes.

"Nothing is wrong with me," Hart said defensively, getting off Cane. "Why does something have to be wrong with me?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"I'm fine," Hart snapped defensively. There was nothing wrong with him. "Let's just go downstairs."

Cane pressed his lips into a thin line, looking like he wanted to argue before he heaved himself up and off the bed. Even though Hart was frustrated with his constant questioning, he still slipped under Cane's arm and helped him hold the ice packs and walk.

He led them downstairs and toward the living room, taking a breath before walking inside.

Eyes followed them as he walked Cane over and helped him into an armchair across the room from where they were all sitting. Hart took a seat on the armrest, not bothering to find his own spot. Unable to move further away. Something told him he needed to be next to Cane. Moving away was impossible.

Silence rang in the room, the tension thick and soupy as they all stared at each other. The only noise was the steady click of Ash's lighter.

"So. This is an…interesting turn of events," Ash finally said.

He signed it simultaneously because Midas was present for a change, sitting in the window nook with his hair in a messy bun clamped with a golden clasp, looking slightly less bored than he usually did.

Ash himself was seated directly opposite Cane and Hart, glaring, sprawled on the green couch with Morgan tucked under his arm looking only a little awkward about being roped into this.

"I told you so," Black said from his perch on the backrest of the couch, his feet tucked under Ash's ass.

"You didn't tell me shit," Ash hissed, pinching Black's calf.

"The line between hatred and intense sexual chemistry that scars your family members for eternity is very fine," Black said sagely.

"That is not what this is!" Ash said loudly. "We are not living in that timeline!"

"Children, behave." Fix put an end to their bickering with one of his well-practiced, exasperated warnings.

Hart felt like his head would explode. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering when his brothers had got so loud. So present and noticeable in his environment. When had he started being so gratingly aware of them and their antics? When had it become so damn hard to tune them out the way he usually did?

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Midas asked, hands sharp and signs directed at Hart in particular. "Why is he here?"

"Got a feeling this is about me," Cane said, and Hart noticed Black signing it for Midas on Cane's behalf. Wanted or not.

"It is," Hart said. "As you would have been aware had you been present lately, Cane is under a curse I'm currently assigned to."

Midas gave him a flat look. "I was busy."

"You weren't the only one," Ash muttered.

Morgan smacked his leg in reprimand. "Don't sex shame them."

Hart glared at him, ignoring the remarks. "A few hours ago, Cane was attacked in his own home and almost killed."

"So you figured bringing him to your room to fuck him would help?" Ash asked sweetly, pressing harder on his buttons.

"Ash!" Morgan exclaimed.

But Hart had already snapped under the pressure he was applying in a way he never had before, something ugly rearing its head inside of him. "I didn't question your methods when you used your dick to solve a case just a few months ago."

His words left the room drowning in shocked silence.

"Excuse me?" Morgan was the one to break it, narrowing his eyes a touch. Hart clenched his jaw and refused to run it back or apologize. "Maybe I misheard you for a second. I'm sure you didn't just come for my relationship with your criminal fucktoy sitting right there."

"Now someone else needs to watch their mouth," Cane said lazily.

"I will finish the job those people started if you make one more threat in Morgan's direction, Candy Cane," Ash growled.

"And fuck you very much," Morgan snapped at Cane. "How about you apologize for ruining my boyfriend's face while we're at it. Do I need to stick a Handle With Care sticker on his fucking forehead? He's off limits to you in the future, asshole!"

Eyes were blinking at them as they volleyed back and forth, mouths were open wide, and Midas's hand rose several times to say something before he finally put it down in his lap, looking at Fix for direction.

"Okay!" Fix said, schooling his stern voice into something soothing and comforting for them all. "I know tensions are running high, but jumping down each other's throats isn't getting us anywhere."

"Neither are stupid jokes, but here we are," Hart said.

Ash sat up in his seat. He dislodged Black from his position, sending him sprawling onto the couch behind his back, and dragged Morgan along with him. "You know what—"

Fix stood up and placed himself in the middle of the room, a huge presence with his arms out.

"ENOUGH!" His voice boomed through the house, loud enough to catch everyone off guard. Fix didn't shout. "Either you all behave, or we take a break and come back here when you're ready to act like adults."

"Hart," Cane said, as if trying to placate him. Cane trying to placate him. "As much as I hate to admit it, that idiot is right. I can't really go toe to toe with your brothers right now, so how about we cool it?"

Hart sniffed. "I'm perfectly cool."

"Said no one about you ever," Black quipped.

"You want to know what people say about you?" Hart fired back, voice sharp.

Black's playful grin faded.

"Hart, enough!" Fix hissed. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Besides the obvious," Ash said nastily.

"You know you keep starting it, right?" Cane said casually. "Don't start shit you can't finish."

"Who asked you, Candy Cane?" Ash said, standing up and pointing at him. Fix placed a hand on his chest to hold him back, and Morgan grabbed him by the arm to hold on in case he pounced. "You don't live here. You're not family. You don't get a say."

"Why is Morgan here then?" Hart spat.

Morgan flinched a little, and Ash must have felt it.

"Morgan's more family than he fucking is!"

"You're right," Cane said. "I don't live here. I'm not family. But when it comes to Hart, I do get a say until he tells me I don't."

"Because you just started fucking?" Ash said sarcastically.

Cane didn't say anything in response, but his lack of answer was enough to hint at the elephant in the room. It didn't take a genius to put together the signs.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning," Midas signed eventually.

He'd been silently observing the whole time, looking at a crestfallen Black, who was still weakly signing for him.

Hart knew he should feel bad, but that emotion didn't come.

"All you need to know is that Cane is going to be staying with us until I can figure out his curse," Hart said primly. "He wasn't safe where he was."

"It's reasonable that you had Cane moved," Fix said diplomatically. "What people are…aggravated about is that you didn't run it by us first before moving him in here. I'm sure we would have unanimously agreed to let him stay if you'd asked, but you just turned up with all his stuff and then…well…it was hard not to hear. We're just confused, Hart."

Hart knew he should have felt ashamed. That emotion didn't come either.

"It was a tense situation," Cane said. "I don't think Hart has processed it properly, which is why he's acting a little out of it."

Hart turned his frown on him now. "I said I'm fine."

"I can get my shit and get out of your hair," Cane continued like he hadn't heard him. "Despite what you may think of me, I'm not here to fuck up your lives and cause chaos."

"Absolutely not!" Hart said, grasping Cane's shirt. Panic was an emotion he did feel in that moment. Cane couldn't leave. "If you go, I go."

"Hart," Cane whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. "This isn't worth fucking up your relationship with your brothers over. You don't want that."

Didn't he? Hart didn't know anymore. All he knew was that he wanted Cane.

"He can stay for a few days as long as he keeps away from my scrapbooks," Black said in a muted voice.

"I don't like the ultimatum," Fix said with a disappointed look at Hart before sighing. "But I don't want you out there while people are trying to kill Cane. So I guess I vote he can stay until we figure the curse out."

"He can stay," Midas signed.

"Are you all insane?" Ash asked in shock.

"Ash…" Morgan tried to soothe him.

"Out of everyone, I figured you'd be the most likely to let him stay. You know him best," Fix said.

"Exactly!" Ash said. "I know him as the criminal asshole who can punch people's skulls in. Not the person fucking my brother!"

"That isn't any of your business," Hart growled at him.

"So your vote is no?" Fix asked.

"Fuck no!"

"Majority rules," Black said. "Even with Wren, you'd be outnumbered."

Hart hadn't even realized Wren wasn't there.

He looked around the room. There was a distant part of him that shouted in the far distance that he should check on Wren. That he'd been upset the last time Hart saw him.

It was swallowed up by the darkness.

"Then that's that," Fix said. "Cane is staying."