Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"Tell me about Gary," Jack said, watching Ewan carefully.

Ewan snorted. "He used to beat me up for fun. I liked it. What's to tell?"

Jack held his breath, counted down from five, and reminded himself that Ewan was a brat, and therefore some brattishness was to be expected. Jack didn't have to respond to it. In fact, not responding to it might be the best way to contain it.

So far Ewan had been alternately sullen and silent, except for the part immediately after work when he'd tried to tell Jack that he'd be fine and he didn't need Jack's help, actually. Jack had asked him if he'd spoken to Nate. Ewan had shrugged, which Jack took for a yes. He'd asked what Nate had said.

"That I should go with you," Ewan admitted, looking grim about it.

Jack had arched an eyebrow at him, the one that usually got Channon to sit up straight. It did not have the same effect on Ewan. "So what are you going to do?"

Ewan had rolled his eyes in a way that would have gotten Channon a rough smack on the rear at the very least. "Go with you, I guess?"

So here they were at Nate's kitchen table, eating Indian takeout. Ewan had ordered something called phaal that Jack had taken a polite spoonful of and was now ignoring completely. He was secure enough in his masculinity not to need to prove it by burning out his taste buds, thank you very much. He'd settle for Vindaloo.

Now he considered Ewan, wondering how best to go about prying him open. What would tempt Ewan to talk about his ex?

"Why do I remind you of him?" Jack asked. It wasn't just a tactic—he was morbidly curious.

Ewan looked up, his expression guarded. "You just do."

"You must have specific reasons. Do I look like him?"

To this, Ewan shook his head, snorting derisively. "Naw. You're a handsome fucker."

Which meant that this ‘Gary' was not. Jack wondered if he ought to be flattered. "What attracted you to him in the first place, then?"

Ewan tipped his head back with a groan. It looked like he was rolling his eyes again, but Jack realized that, instead, he was blinking hard. He wondered if Ewan was in fact having an emotional reaction.

"He said I couldn't handle him," Ewan confessed to the ceiling. "I wasn't gonna back down from that."

"And could you?" Jack asked, watching him closely.

Ewan exhaled and tipped his head to the side, avoiding Jack's eye. "I don't know." He made an angry sound and jammed his fork into his rice. "I thought I could take anything. I did take it. Everything he dished out."

And yet, Jack thought, part of Ewan hadn't wanted to, or had only done it to prove something. To Gary, or to himself? It wasn't clear. And it still wasn't clear what part of Gary he saw in Jack. "Even when you didn't like it?"

"I wasn't supposed to like it," Ewan spat. He glared at Jack. "Right? Isn't that the whole point?"

"He was a sadist, then," Jack said evenly, ignoring the outburst. "He enjoyed the fact that you didn't. That was what was in it for him."

"Aye," Ewan said, still glaring daggers. "He liked taking ugly things and breaking them."

It struck Jack that Ewan might really think of himself as ugly—a toxic, little, radioactive thing that had deserved to be broken.

Jack had never thought of him that way. Ewan was striking, strange, not conventionally attractive. But he wasn't ugly. And for all of his irritations, Ewan did not deserve to be broken like that. Even if he had been ‘ugly' (whatever that meant), no one deserved that.

"How did it end?" Jack asked, feeling on the precipice of something.

Ewan's mouth twisted. "He got a job in Norway. Took the collar back and left the country."

And left Ewan behind. It was clear that Ewan felt he'd deserved that too. "He'd collared you?"

"I was his slave," Ewan said with bitter relish. "I'm lucky he didn't brand me."

He sounded so hurt by this, as if part of him had wanted that brand. No, he'd wanted to belong to his Dom, to be precious to him. To be owned and cherished, in a very particular way.

It made sense. Jack understood now why Ewan hated him so much.

"What he did to you. You think I'm doing the same thing to Channon."

He watched as Ewan's face gave him away.

"You think I'm going to break Channon and leave him."

Ewan shook his head. "I don't think anything."

"I can see why you think it," Jack said evenly. It rankled, and yet it was not unjustified. "I seduced him when we met. He was eager to be seduced, but he was so new to all of this that you could say I took advantage of him. And when I asked if he wanted to try things, he was equally eager, but he didn't fully know what he was getting into." Jack reached for his water glass. "It would have been easy to do to him what Gary did to you. I could definitely have used him up and tossed him away, if I'd been that kind of person."

Ewan was watching him with wide, storm-gray eyes. He had a look on his face as if he were hearing his fears confirmed. Jack went on, keeping his tone as even and non-confrontational as he could.

"And if I had, Channon would be right to hate me. Resent me. Feel wronged. Because a collar is a promise," Jack said, feeling this in his bones. "As a Dominant, you make a similar promise every time you play with someone: I will take care of you. Whether that care means flogging them until they scream or knowing when to take the ropes off, it amounts to the same thing. You are responsible for this person. They've put their trust in you. If you break it, you're a bad Dominant, a bad person, sometimes a criminal."

He had Ewan's full attention now. He wasn't sure he'd seen Ewan pay so much attention in all the time they'd known one another.

"When Gary gave you a collar, it was a promise to take care of you. And then he didn't. If that's your example of a Dominant, no wonder you think I'm going to do the same to Channon."

Ewan made an unhappy sound. "It's not just that. You control everything about him. Everything. And he says he likes it but…I said that too. I thought it was true. But it weren't. And I can't blame Gary for that because I said I liked it, even when…when I hated it. Because that's what a good little fucktoy does, isn't it?" Ewan's voice edged into something hurt and angry. "Tells their master they love being used and, and shared around, and treated like rubbish!"

The words hung in the air, huge and impossible to ignore. Jack breathed in and out and tried to find a thread in that to pull, but…

That wasn't what he did to Channon. Yes, Channon was Jack's to play with however he wanted, and Channon liked that, but it wasn't the way Ewan made it sound.

Was that how it looked from the outside? Did Ewan really think Jack thought of Channon as disposable?

Channon did like it, didn't he? Or, no, he liked that Jack liked it, and—

Oh.

Jack looked at Ewan, who seemed to be regretting saying anything at all, and thought carefully before speaking.

"If someone had asked you, back then, if you liked it, you would have told them you loved everything he did to you," Jack said with a feeling of inevitability.

Ewan bared his teeth. "Aye."

"So you can't trust Channon now when he says he enjoys the things I do to him."

Ewan shook his head.

Jack sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Then there's nothing I can do to convince you. But hopefully I can convince you that I won't throw Channon over on a whim. I could show you the prenup, which states pretty definitively that, once we're married, Channon can walk away any time he likes with half of everything I own. So you see," he added drily, "it would be an expensive mistake that I don't intend to make."

This appeared to give Ewan something to think about. He regarded Jack with an intense, sullen expression. But he didn't argue.

When Jack went on, he kept his voice even. "I hope you know I value Channon very highly. And his happiness; I value that too. It's of the utmost importance to me. And when I enjoy his discomfort," Jack added wryly, "it's for the purposes of play, of the dynamic, the scene we're making. I enjoy the fact that he will do almost anything for my praise. And when I push him to the point where he says no, I know he really has reached his limit. He trusts me. I trust him to be honest. I'm sure you and Nate have a similar arrangement, given the things you do."

Because Jack knew what Nate and Ewan did, the sharp edges of their play. If Nate wasn't giving Ewan the same boundaries, the same ways out of play that was too sharp, then Jack did not know him. Nate would—he was so careful. He had to be, because of the things he liked and wanted, the things Jack was sure he asked of Ewan.

Ewan looked down. "Aye," he said after a while.

"Then I trust you understand." Ewan nodded, still not meeting Jack's eye. "You know, if someone had ever treated Channon the way your ex treated you, I'd be furious. It would be an effort not to destroy them."

"Yeah?" Now Ewan looked up, his expression skeptical. "Someone like Channon's dad? He treats Chan like so much shit, and I—" He shook his head hard, pushing himself back from the table. "I fucken hate him."

"Me too," Jack confessed. It seemed to take Ewan by surprise. Jack smiled. "But he hates me back, so it's only fair."

Ewan snorted. He drummed his fingers on the table and then stood up abruptly, stacking dishes and carrying them to the sink. Then he filled the kettle. "You want tea?"

It was an olive branch, and Jack took it. "Sure."

He watched Ewan take out a teapot and mugs, a milk jug and a sugar bowl, and arrange them on a tray. It had a ritualistic air to it. Jack wondered if this was a service Ewan performed for Nate. He decided to be flattered and did not interrupt.

When the kettle boiled, Ewan poured hot water into the teapot, swishing it around before tipping the water out. Then he added the leaves, reboiled the kettle, and filled the pot. With the tea leaves steeping, Ewan carried the tray carefully to the kitchen table and set it down. He fetched a tin from the cupboard and opened it up, setting it on the table within arm's reach. It was half full of cookies.

When Jack declined, Ewan shrugged. "Suit yourself. Bet I know why Chan's dad hates you," he added gruffly, settling back into his chair. "Bet he thinks you made his kid gay and all."

"Certainly, but I think he could have accepted it if not for the fact that I'm more successful than he is," Jack said by way of agreement. "I make it hard for Howard to ignore what a terrible father he's been when I give Channon everything he never did. Which is mostly attention, but to him the money seems a personal affront."

Ewan snorted. "Your money isn't what Channon likes about you."

"No," Jack agreed. "Channon's talked to you about his father?"

Ewan frowned. A timer went off on his phone and he picked up the teapot to pour. "Aye. A bit. He's a bawbag."

"I've been…dissatisfied with Mr Beaumont for some time," Jack said slowly, choosing his words with care. This was Channon's business, and he didn't intend to expose more of it than Channon would be comfortable with. "Every time he lets Channon down, I think up ways to ruin him." This got Ewan's attention, his stormy eyes flickering up to fix on Jack with a sudden intensity as he pushed Jack's mug over to him. "It would be extremely satisfying to tear down the life he's made for himself and leave it tattered around him. To make sure he knew it was me. Make sure he knew it was because of his negligence as a father."

Ewan's mouth twitched. "Oh, aye. And hear the lamentations of his women?"

Unbidden, Jack felt his own mouth curve into a smile. "Yes," he said. "Except that's the problem, isn't it? Howard Beaumont has young children and a partner who don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire. And Channon would be upset," Jack admitted. "Which is unacceptable to me."

This seemed to give Ewan something to chew over. He busied himself with his tea, his gaze flickering restlessly around the room. Jack added milk to his cup and tasted it. Surprisingly good. Ewan did seem to take tea seriously, if nothing else.

"So you can't have your revenge," Ewan said. His mouth twisted into a nasty smirk. "Bet you hate that."

"I do."

Ewan added, "Cos you're a control freak."

"I am," Jack agreed. "And it's an itch I can't scratch. I must take care of Channon. His father hurts him. Therefore, I am compelled to hurt his father. But that would upset Channon, and so all I can do is make sure he feels the lack of his father's presence in his life as little as possible."

Ewan nodded sagely. "And that's why you make him call you Daddy."

It went through Jack like a shock, hearing that word in Ewan's mouth. He forced himself to unclench. "I don't make him."

This seemed to satisfy Ewan; he pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his cup on top of them. It looked untidy. "Why're you telling me this? You want help putting pins in Channon's dad's voodoo doll?"

"I," Jack said in a low tone, "find it cathartic to imagine how I might ruin Mr Beaumont. In as much detail and to the greatest extent my imagination can manage."

Ewan's eyes twitched toward him, stormy and uncertain. "Aye?"

"And I thought you might enjoy the same thing, with regard to your ex."

With an explosive breath of air, Ewan dropped his feet to the floor, drumming his heels restlessly. "I don't get to have revenge. How would I even do that? I can't just…put shrimp in his curtain rods."

The thought of the smell as they rotted made Jack wince. "Creative. But you can think bigger than that."

Ewan slunk down in his chair. "Like…strap him to a rocket and blast him into the sun?"

"If you like. I prefer my revenge fantasies to be more realistic," Jack said. "As though I could actually achieve them."

Ewan scrunched up his nose. "Shrimp in the curtain rods it is, then."

"Or," Jack said, turning his cup in his hands, "we could hit him where it hurts. What matters most to him?"

Ewan shrugged. "Money. His image. His fucking suits."

"Well, first we get him blacklisted with his tailor," Jack said, easing into the idea. "That would annoy me. Then expand that to include every tailor in his city. Just for the inconvenience."

Ewan looked skeptical. "How?"

"Bribery."

"I don't have bribe money," Ewan said acidly.

"I do," Jack told him.

"I thought this was supposed to be ‘realistic'," Ewan said, making obnoxious finger quotes. "I don't have your bribe money."

Jack smiled, a little. "Did you think I wasn't going to help you get revenge in this fantasy?"

This made Ewan sit up straight. "Why would you do that?"

Because Nate told me to take care of you,Jack thought. Because I want Channon to be happy. "Because revenge is fun," he said out loud, "and I like planning it. Even if I'm fairly sure you're not going to let me actually do it."

Ewan stared at him. Then he smiled. It was a wicked smile, full of teeth. Jack found it remarkably unsettling. "Oh, aye. Then I want him banned from every fucking kink club in Santa Rita."

"Why stop there?" Jack asked. He tipped his palm up, spreading his fingers. "Get the word out on the scene and he'll be blacklisted anywhere you like. All you'd have to do is tell Diana. She'd gleefully destroy his reputation for you."

"Mistress Diana wouldn't do that for me," Ewan protested.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I think you underestimate her affection for Nate. And, by extension, for you. But if you'd prefer not to ask her, you could tell your story to Mr White. He would be quite receptive." As much as Mr White disdained a brat, he cared a great deal about the correct treatment of submissives, and a story like this would appall him deeply.

But Ewan made a face. "Pass."

"Or just ask Nate," Jack said calmly. "Nate would do it for you in a heartbeat. I'm surprised he hasn't already, for that matter."

Ewan looked uncomfortable. "Nate gets riled when I talk about Gary," he said quietly. "He pretends he's calm but…he gets his serial killer look on."

"Serial killer look?"

"Aye. You know," Ewan said, pulling an angry face, "like he's gonna straight up murder a bloke. And then I'm like, ‘fuck, I don't want Nate going to jail' so I just…don't talk to him about Gary."

Jack wasn't sure he'd actually seen Nate's ‘serial killer' look. He'd seen Nate angry, and he'd seen Nate gleefully sadistic, but he'd never seen Nate on the verge of an actual homicide. Either Ewan was exaggerating, or perhaps this was a Nate that Jack had never actually met.

The idea made something twinge in his chest, like a string being pulled so tight it snapped. Of course Ewan had access to parts of Nate that Jack didn't. It made sense. It was only fair. But Jack didn't have to like it.

He took a deep breath. "Then you'll have to ask me. Don't worry, I won't make you beg."

Ewan gave him a narrow look. "You're not gonna do anything to Gary for real, right? This is just…weird revenge roleplay."

Jack smiled. "That's right. Let's make a plan for revenge."

Ewan blew out a breath. "Okay. Okay, then…then could you, like, I don't know. He's a tech lead." Ewan looked Jack in the eye. "What if I didn't want him working in tech ever again?"

"Easy," Jack told him. It was ridiculously easy to ruin someone professionally. All you had to do was find some old tweets or emails and put pressure on the right people to be outraged about it. Jack had never done it, but he knew it was possible. People offered it as a service, of all things. "We'll just…destroy his reputation. Make sure every search for his name comes up with the worst things he's ever done. Nate can tear his code apart on stack overflow, for extra points. Done."

Ewan snorted. "Just like that." He cocked his head at Jack. "Ey, while you're blowing shit up, can we get someone to put shrimp in his curtain rails?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Dunno. Still thinking." Ewan held his mug up to his chest, cradling it in both hands. "How hard is it to impound a car?" he asked, his eyes bright.

Jack smiled. It wasn't even forced. So, this is the playful side that comes with the brat. Plotting revenge. It was, after all, a hobby he very much enjoyed.

Perhaps he shouldn't. Perhaps this was abnormal. But the glee on Ewan's face was gratifying after all the gloom, and Jack couldn't find a shred of remorse in himself, though he didn't look very hard.