Met You Tonight: Kauri and Jack
CW: Electroshock, referenced abusive relationship, pet whump, dehumanization, referenced conditioning/brainwashing, frank references to prostitution, very brief reference to assumed drug use
This piece is a collaboration with @spiffythespook featuring Jack/Reid! Takes place immediately after Kauri escapes, five days after he gets away from Owen Grant. This collab has multiple parts, so you’ll see Spiffy and I posting them as we get them edited!
Tagging Kauri and Jack’s crews: @im-not-rare-im-rarr, @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @rivertamandspike
It had been raining most of the day. It was the kind of pounding, pouring rain that hit hard enough to splatter and splash back up, collected outside sewage drains and ran like miniature rivers along the gutters.
By the time midnight came around, though, the rain had stopped, leaving the sound of water rushing through storm drains along the side of the streets and a heavy, oppressive humidity hanging in the air. The streets were shimmering wet, reflections from headlights bouncing right off the road, and streetlight circles looked more like puddles than actual illumination.
People found their way out onto the streets anyway. They came in cars and on foot, walking to bars or racing each other into clubs. They stumbled drunk or walked sober, congregated into clumps that giggled and talked and danced and laughed.
In rougher parts of town people still walked to the bars, but there were plenty who simply stood, too.
Women and men walked slowly along their chosen corners in the glow of streetlights or in the dark, hips jutted out or with a certain kind of stance that gave away what they were selling. The occasional car cut through the night, came to a stop along the curb. Sometimes the john got out - sometimes the woman or man on the corner got in - before the car drove away.
From one dark alley the sound of harsh, ugly laughter echoed from two or three voices at once. Underneath the laughter was scraping and whining, thumps and a soft pleading for them to please, just st-stop, I don't have any money, please.
Eventually, one of the three, a nondescript and muscular guy in a plain shirt and jeans who could have been anywhere from a rough 30 to a pretty good 45, stepped out, lit a cigarette, and glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, guys, that fucking tweaker doesn't have shit anyway. Look at him twitch, he probably spent his last dime on whatever shit he’s got in his system.”
The two others with him laughed, coming out into the light themselves, arguing good-naturedly over their destination before heading on foot towards the nearest bar.
Their noise drew the attention of a young man, clearly one of those who had been busy walking the streetcorner, still wet from the earlier weather. The young man stayed well out of view until they departed, eyeing the raucous group until the sound of the men’s voices had totally faded and they turned a corner.
From the alleyway came the sound of low, broken cursing. The young man blinked and headed a little closer to try and take a look and see what exactly had gotten the attention of the three men that had just left.
There was a boy curled up in the alleyway - a man but barely, and he was soaked to the skin. The expensive blue cashmere sweater he'd been wearing was ripped, torn, and bloody. Soft black pants were so wet they clung to his legs, and the flat slide-on sandals on his feet were at least two sizes too big.
Bloody and bruised, the boy began to push himself back up to standing when suddenly every muscle went rigid. He let out a cry and his back arched as he dropped with a hard crack of his knees back to the ground.
"Ow, ow, n-n-no, st-stop-... please, stop, pl-please," The boy begged no one who could hear him, clutching at a spot just below his neck on the right side, pressing hard with the flat of his palm. His other hand was flat on the alleyway ground, his black curls plastered to his forehead with a mix of sweat and rain.
He felt a throbbing pain in one eye that told him he'd be bruised by morning, but it was nothing compared with the agony racing through the nerves under his skin.
"Stop, I w-won't come h-h-home, stop it I w-won't," he pleaded, in his surprisingly deep soft voice, to no one, to someone, to anyone. "Y-you lied, you lied to me, you lied, I won’t...”
From the end of the alley, pressed into the shadow of the wall, the young man stepped out slowly and cleared his throat to draw the boy’s attention. His wet hair was pushed back, combed through messily with fingers and a couple wet strands hung in his face. If his tight, cropped shirt and jeans didn’t give away his profession, his naturally alluring posture did... but there was no desire in his expression, only concern.
“Hey, buddy. You look like you’re in pretty rough shape. Need a hand?”
Kauri flinched away from the voice, trying to scramble backwards, but his muscles were still so locked from pain that all he could manage was a foot or two before he froze again. He looked up, teeth ground together, to show wide, frightened blue eyes.
He had a circle of red around one eye beginning to darken, and the young man in the cropped shirt put his hands up, trying to show he was harmless, taking in the other man’s disheveled, sopping wet appearance.
"N-no, pl-please!” Kauri’s voice was thin and strained, and his hands kept shaking, nerve endings twitching long after the pain had ended. “I don't have any m-money. I d-don't have anything! Pl-please don’t hurt me!”
He put his left hand out in some kind of supplication, sweater sleeve riding up his arm, the hint of a barcode tattoo on the inside unmistakable. "Please! Please, j-just, just ow, fuck-... aftersh-shocks, ah-”
“Did I ask for money? I don’t want anything from you, man,” the young man said. He froze at the sight of the tattoo, biting his lip anxiously and glancing over both ends of the alley to check that no one was nearby. He crouched down a couple of feet - a good safe distance - away. With his work boots on, he couldn’t quite lay his feet flat - instead, he perched on his toes. “Hey, it’s okay. Listen, um... I used to be a box boy, too, okay? I can’t prove it, they… my owner was pretty shady. The company took off my tattoo so they wouldn’t be associated with him. Anyway, I’m not gonna hurt you. I don’t… believe in that shit.”
“B-Box…” Kauri’s voice trailed off, confused. “I d-don’t-... how do you-... Oh, fuck, the news, he told the news or something…” He moved back a couple of feet, nearly crawling on his hands and knees. “D-Did you see me on the news? Is, is that how you kn-know about me?”
“Shit, no. I don’t have cable or anything-” the young man said, almost laughing. The sound died as the boy’s muscles locked again, spine curving as his head dropped towards the ground, forehead nearly touching the dirty alley pavement.
Kauri whimpered, rocking back onto his knees, unconsciously bending forwards to move into Respect.
The young man grit his teeth and hesitated, an expression of mixed distaste and old fear on his face. Again, he moved forward - nearly on his hands and knees, too, now. “Hey. I know because I saw your tattoo. I’m not gonna turn you in, man, but I can guarantee someone’s going to notice if you’re this fucked up out here alone. Lemme help you out, I’ve got an apartment. What’s happening? Is that... electroshock?”
Kauri gasped in a breath and nodded without coming up from position, trying to calm his mind, to keep a single coherent thought through the sudden rush of pain. Just as quickly as it had come, it seemed to fade out, and his breathing changed, from shallow quick gasps to deep gulps of the humid air.
“It’s-... a n-new product, I just… here.” He pushed himself up and back, kneeling resting on his heels, slowly looking back up, searching the other man’s face for a sign that this was any worse a decision than anything else he’d done in the past five days.
All he saw was concern - genuine honest concern.
He pulled the neck of his sweater down on the right side, exposing his collarbone to nearly halfway down his chest. Along the bone ran a small line of perfectly spaced circular dots, glinting like metal in the light, glowing with a faint blue light against his skin.
“I ran away from my owner,” he said, a little hoarsely. “He’s trying to get me to come home.”
The young man’s eyes widened, brow rising at the sight of the… well, they looked like piercings, but he knew better. “Damn. That’s a fancy fuckin’ product, isn’t it?” He leaned back, sat on his heels, and sighed. “Good for you, for running and not going home. You got a place to stay?”
“W-Would I… would I look like this if I had a place to stay?” The boy flinched as soon as the sarcasm was out of his mouth, like he expected an angry reaction or even for the pain to start again.
The young man grinned, tilted his head, looking happy that the other guy had a bit of spunk in him. “...fair point. But if you didn’t want a place to stay, you’d tell me you already have one.” Kauri moved to push himself weakly to his feet, and the young man watched him closely, ready to reach out in case he stumbled.
Kauri swayed a little, pale and lightheaded, but he made it to standing, one hand on the brick wall next to him to hold himself up. Some of the aging brick crumbled around his fingers as he scratched into it. “I don’t have anywhere, I’m not… I don’t know anyone. I jumped out of, of a moving car, I just have…” He looked over his shoulder. On the ground behind him, mostly hidden in shadow, was a blue backpack. “I just have that.”
The other man nodded. “Okay. So...you want a place to crash for the night or not? In case your psycho master decides to lay it on thick again. ‘Cause, uh… lemme tell you… this district is not one you wanna be stuck in overnight unless you plan to have sex of one kind or another.”
“Psycho… Mr. Owen’s not psycho, he just-” Kauri jerked again, but it didn’t last this time and he was only rigid against the wall for a few seconds before he let out a shuddering breath and turned, scooping the backpack up by the straps. It hung with surprising weight off of him when he pulled it on over his shoulders.
Sure he’s not, the other man thought, but let it slide. The shock was bad enough without someone rubbing in how warped it was that you could have electroshock piercings… maybe they were even screwed into the bone. He made a bit of a face at that idea, feeling pain in his teeth like in response to nails on a chalkboard. The heaviness of the boy’s bag told him that the guy didn’t have nothing, but that was none of his business, either.
“Um.” Kauri shifted, a little uneasily, from foot to foot. “If you… d-don’t mind, I can st-stay? Just, just for tonight? I don’t have any money, I d-don’t have anything, I j-just…” His voice trailed off, considering. “I’m… I’m Kauri.”
“I’m Jack,” the young man responded, and then promptly grinned and quirked his head. “And I’m filthy rich tonight, so don’t worry about money. C’mon, let’s go. Wanna lean on me, or are you okay?”
“I’m... okay to walk.” Kauri’s teeth were gritted, his jaw set, and he walked with a pained stiff movement that made it clear the three in the alley had landed at least a few pretty good kicks while they were having their fun, but he stayed up.
For a second, they walked in silence, Kauri glancing sidelong at Jack, curiously.
“Hey. If you were, were really… like me… then you’re n-not rich,” Kauri said, but it was with a little bit of humor lacing his voice, a hint of resilience under everything else. “We can’t live on our own, we d-don’t know anything, it’s in all the… things they made us know, to say.”
Jack nodded, then shrugged. “Speak for yourself. I am the proud possessor of one month’s rent and enough grocery money for the next couple weeks. On a rainy day, no less,” he cocked a crooked grin. It faded after a moment or two. “I dunno, man. I think my order was really strange. I’ve got memory gaps from the drugs, but all my skills are intact… well. Except the writing, still.”
Kauri was a little slow, having to move carefully against the ache from the earlier assault. It gave him time to look at Jack and try to decide if he was just lying, if he’d just turn him in. Jack didn’t seem all that bothered by the pace. He shuffled along slow enough to stay right alongside him.
“I can’t write either. If I do, um-” He gestured at his collarbone again, the little glowing circles hidden now under the wet sweater. “These go off. But I couldn’t before… is Jack your before-name? Kauri’s my name he gave me, I d-don’t have another one anymore.”
Jack nodded in understanding. How they managed to tune an electroshock device to someone’s writing, he didn’t know. It was weird. Renford could do it if she wanted - she could do anything, as far as he could tell.
“Yeah,” he nodded, shuddering for too many reasons thinking of her face… being wet and cold was the least of them. “I had a, uh, a pet name. I don’t like it. Took me a while to remember myself, but the other guys in the district knew who I was. They helped. Sorta.” He snorted. “There’s some loyalty among whores, but us gay prostitutes have too much competition and too little market, so I still watched my back.”
Kauri stumbled to a stop all at once, turning to look at him again more clearly in the light that shone from a streetlamp above their heads.
He took in the cropped shirt and tight pants, the shoes, then slowly raised his eyes back up to the man’s face. “I-I didn’t…” His voice trailed off again, staring blatantly, but the look on his face was more like wide-eyed surprise, like a child that had never seen a dandelion before, rather than any kind of judgement.
Jack turned, surprised that Kauri had stopped. When he realized why Kauri looked so surprised, he grinned and put a hand on his hip, cocked it, and smirked. “You like what you see?” Kauri’s surprise was hilarious. But that was okay...he didn’t seem grossed out.
Kauri went red. “I, um, I just… I-I, you’re… you’re okay, I just-... you went from being a, um, a pet to being… on purpose?”
Jack blinked at the question, and then gasped in understanding and shook his head. “Oh, no. I started on the streets long before I was legal - don’t tell anybody that - and then one day they picked me up. Special order for Cori fucking Fisher. You seen him on the news? Bastard. They fixed up my looks and made me take an oath, then dumped me back here - home sweet home.”
Kauri bit down on his lower lip in thought, cocking his head to the side, trying to think. Finally, he shook it. “No, sorry. Mr. Owen doesn’t watch news, I don’t… I don’t know anything. You had a bad owner? I mean, not just to you, to other people?”
Jack snorted. “Yeah, that’s putting it lightly.”
Kauri seemed to be thinking, taking Jack in. Then he started walking again, the heavy weight inside his backpack smacking against his lower back a little as he moved. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a, a gay, um, prostitute, uh… before.” Kauri’s face flushed red, visible even in the yellow streetlights they moved under. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ve seen anything before but… I feel like this is new.”
“You probably have and just couldn’t tell.” He smirked a bit at the flush on Kauri’s face. Man, he looked cute.
“So when you s-said you were rich…”
“Oh, I said I’m rich tonight. I’m a tiny bit sore, but I’m paid up for the month.” If it was possible, Kauri’s face went even redder, and Jack’s smile wider. “Worth it. Means every night I can work for the rest of the month, I’m saving. It also means we can stop at the store for supper. You hungry?”
Kauri swallowed, eyes widening a little at the offer, looking at Jack sideways again like he wasn’t sure what he should say. There was a muffled sound from inside his backpack - a soft faint beeping - and he twisted back to look at it, jostling it a little until the beeping went quiet again. “I, um. Y-Yeah, I haven’t… it’s been a, a while since I ate. This guy bought me crackers, but… Do you… I don’t have any money. I took s-some cash from Mr. Owen but, um, some people took that like the, the first day I was out. I can maybe help you? Clean or something? I have some Domestic training…”
Jack glanced uneasily at Kauri’s backpack, but decided to leave well enough alone. “Don’t worry about it, man. Like I said, I made enough today to eat for a while. I’ll make enough after a day of recovery that I won’t even worry for next month. Anyway, I had Domestic training, too, so the apartment’s in great shape.”
There were others out - women and men, some Jack’s competition probably, Kauri thought, eyeing them in a whole new light. When he’d found his way here it’d been because he’d been kicked off a bus, he had no idea where he was. He hadn’t known he was in a bad neighborhood other than the worn-down buildings and empty storefronts.
The bars all seemed to be doing well enough, at least. And there was no shortage of cars stopping at streetcorners to pick the men and women lingering there up.
There was one woman with hair that made Kauri stare as they moved towards her, hanging most of the way down her back in shades of purple, green, and blue, nearly iridescent. She was wearing a short, tight minidress that mirrored it, the sequins almost like fish scales. “She looks like a mermaid,” Kauri breathed, but then caught himself. “I… don’t know what a mermaid is, I don’t know why I said that...”
“Uh-huh,” Jack said softly, almost under his breath, already starting to steer Kauri away.
Too late.
The woman heard them, glancing over and tossing hair over one shoulder.. “Oh thank you, honey. I worked hard to buy a wig as nice as this one.” She raised two thinly plucked eyebrows at Jack, shooting him a smile that wasn’t quite kind. “Look at you, Jack-Jack, picking up strays. Takes one to know one, I guess. Adopt don’t shop, that’s what I always say. This one’s cute.”
Jack smiled tensely back, the look a caustic and distinct leave us alone that had a mean little smile twitching onto the woman’s face in response.
Kauri shifted himself a little closer to Jack, and when the woman’s eyes went back to him, Kauri moved until he was behind the other man completely.
The woman pouted, a little, as if sad that he would hide from her. “Geez, Jackie, where’d you find him? He looks like he’s been standing out in the rain all day long.”
Kauri fought the urge to mumble two days actually, and hid himself a little more thoroughly behind Jack.
“I found him in the rain. Duh,” Jack responded, reaching back with an open hand for Kauri’s, hoping he would give it. Kauri gripped tightly onto him without hesitating, twining fingers around his and stepping as close to him as he could get. “Speaking of, I hear it’s gonna start up again pretty soon. Torrential downpour. Might wanna get you and your wig inside, Stella. See ya tomorrow.”
As they moved away from her, Stella rolled her eyes at him, shifting on her very high heels and turning back to watch the cars moving past, one hip jutted out. “Didn’t think twinks were your type, Jackie!” She called after him, and Kauri twisted around to look back at her, confused.
Jack pretended he didn’t hear her. He kept his eyes peeled for more hazards and leaned close to Kauri, voice low and cautioning. “Don’t talk to these people - you’re an outsider. They’ll eat you… and not in the fun way like I would.”
Kauri nodded solemnly, tightening his grip on Jack’s hand a little more. “Like, like the guys in the alley,” Kauri said in a half-whisper, less a question than a statement of fact. “They thought I had money, and then Mr. Owen… wanted me to miss him. That’s, that’s why he set it off, I think…”
“Yeah.”
Kauri hesitated, and then whispered, “Jack? Can, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
“Um... What’s a twink?”
Jack burst out laughing and steered Kauri down a different main street. “A twink’s a skinny, young, hot guy. They usually bottom, but not necessarily. Stella’s wrong, though - my type is ‘has a dick,’” he grinned a bit.
Bottom. Has a dick, Kauri mouthed the words in echo but didn't say them out loud, his face a little red, still embarrassed. "I, I don't… I, um. D-Do I… am I… that?" He gave up on putting together a sentence that made any sense and followed Jack in embarrassed silence after that.
The convenience store was on the corner of this block, bars on the large windows but a view of the fluorescent lights and displays inside visible in between them, and Jack led Kauri in after taking a quick look around. “Hey, Bill,” he greeted the clerk, with easy familiarity and something like real affection.
“Hi, Jack,” the clerk, a man somewhere in his forties, responded without looking up from his book.
The shop had mostly canned goods, magazines, and junk food, but Jack took a basket and went right to the freezer section to pick up some meat first. Crappy meat, but better than nothing. He got a gallon of milk, some blocks of cheese, and a couple jars of pickles.
“Anything you want in here?”
Kauri kept himself close, nearly pressed against him, eyes on the floor. As far as he knew, he'd never been in a place like this before. Owen bought groceries or had them delivered, Kauri never went anywhere with him except a coffeeshop or to the Host's, or to the, the ski cabin, where he and-
Kauri cut the memory off before it could hurt, gnawing on his lower lip nervously, trying not to look like what he was - a runaway pet, something worth money. The clerk hadn't looked up but his bloodied face and ripped-up expensive clothes weren't exactly subtle.
"I, I, um… I, I don't-... whatever you want is fine, Jack," He said seriously.
There was a soft beep from inside his backpack and a muffled, slightly mechanical female voice said, Kauri pizza appreciate all kinds. Kauri sandwich appreciate but not mayonnaise. Kauri iced coffee appreciate milk.
Kauri's eyes widened back to the fear from when he'd first seen Jack and his already pale face went white.
Jack’s brow raised and he pulled Kauri behind one of the shelves, out of Bill’s view. “Please tell me you don’t have robot parts in you, too.”
Kauri’s eyes fixed on the floor, shoulders curving in a little. As his hair dried out of the rain it was beginning to frizz up, and as he shook his head he tried to smash them back down, less distinctive, less recognizable.
“I, I don’t… um.” He looked to one side and then the other, then slid the backpack off his shoulders, holding it with one arm curved around it while the other reached for the zipper. When he unzipped it, slowly, he pushed back the fabric so Jack could see inside.
Jack stared a second at Kauri, and then warily looked into the bag, half-expecting something to jump out. Part of a circle of black metal and plastic was in there, with two softly glowing red circles on the flattened top. Jack squinted.
Keira greet, the female voice said, clearly coming from the Roomba nestled into some fabric. Designation Keira. Kauri, Owner.
Kauri swallowed, shamefaced. “I, um, I stole something when I ran away from Mr. Owen.”
“... yeah. A floor cleaner. Real bright,” Jack said, bewildered, staring at the two faintly glowing red dots that seemed to stare right back. He’d realized the kid was naive, but he didn’t realize he was a dumbass. “That’ll help you a lot more than like… clothes… water… I don’t know, a knife. Whatever, man. It’s talking, though, and that’s weird. Pizza? I’ll get pizza.” Jack muttered to himself a bit, pulling a couple boxed pizzas out of the freezer. That was reasonable - he could do that. Great. Just great. Lost one psycho, gained another.
Kauri’s eyes narrowed, the first sign of any real backbone or spine he’d shown so far. “No, I took her because he was going to get rid of her,” he snapped, zipping the bag back up and throwing it angrily back over his shoulders. “And she has GPS, she could tell me directions, but I didn’t… I don’t have anywhere to go, so she doesn’t know how to direct me. I don't know anything, and she knows everything. I can't even read, I can't… I can't tell anyone I don't know how to read."
“You just told me,” Jack responded, more to be obtuse than to actually argue.
"You used to be a pet, too!" Kauri half-hissed, half-whispered. "You should be the only one I can tell!"
There was no more beeping from the backpack. Kauri's jaw was set and angry, but even so - he never left Jack's side, shadowed him like the pet he still was, always just behind and to the side.
Jack didn’t exactly mind that, although he was starting to question Kauri’s sanity - in fact, he turned around and took a long look into Kauri’s eyes, checking for dilated or pinprick pupils. Kauri stared right back, swallowing against the way they were inches apart.
Finally, Jack sighed, seemingly satisfied with what he saw. “Okay, so she’s a computer. She could tell me the total of this stuff. If she’s right, she’ll match Bill, and then maybe I’ll believe you.” Jack listed everything off with their prices before tax and waited.
There was a brief pause.
Fifty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents pre-tax, the woman's voice spoke from inside the backpack. She might have sounded slightly smug, but that could have just been the way the mechanical, robotic edge to the voice made it seem flat. Local sales tax is 6% on food and 13% on non-food items. Total cost sixty-one dollars and fifty-nine cents.
Kauri frowned, crossing his arms in front of himself. "There, now you admit when she's right that I'm not crazy."
“I didn’t say you’re crazy,” Jack said. He hadn’t, not to Kauri’s face. He’d just been muttering that he was psycho. Which was… not different. “Okay, I did say that you’re crazy. But I don’t think she’s right.”
He took a hoodie and a pair of sweats off a hanger, and put them up on the counter. He loaded the food up. “Hey Bill, can you subtotal before these?”
Bill looked up at Jack and his company, sighed tiredly, and set down his novel before he started punching in and bagging the order. Which subtotaled, of course, to sixty-one dollars and fifty-nine cents.
“...great, thanks. Yeah, add these to the order,” he pushed the clothes. Bill added them, looked over Kauri and paused.
“Got yourself a new stray? Lookin’ kinda fancy, there,” he asked, surprised. He folded the sweats and watched Jack, who kept a straight face and tried not to look nervous. “You boys should be careful. Cops’ll be making their rounds soon. Here,” he tossed the hoodie at Kauri.
“Yeah, thanks, Bill,” Jack took out a pair of fifties and passed them to Bill, who put them in his drop box right away and counted out some change. “Have a good night, man.”
“Get some rest, Jack.” Bill paused, and the automatic doors had slid open with a sssshhhk sound when he added, "And get something over his arm."
Kauri glanced down only to realize that crossing his arms had made his sleeve ride up again, his barcode and Whumpees-R-Us product number in plain sight. He yanked the sleeve back down and cradled the hooded sweatshirt in his arms, holding it so the cloth folded over his left arm, looked perfectly natural.
“Fuck. Thanks, Bill.” Jack led Kauri back outside, looking determined and heading straight for his apartment.
"Is he… is he going to tell?" Kauri whispered once they were outside. "H-how far is it to your place? Mr. Owen might hit the button again, I don't want to, to be obvious if he… if he asks me to come back again."
“Nah. Bill’s a good guy, pretty trustworthy. And he owes me some,” Jack shrugged. He snorted softly. “Couple buildings down this way, couple minutes’ walk. You mean when he electrocutes you for fun?”
“H-He doesn’t-” Kauri cut himself off, a look of uncertain worry on his face. “It’s not for fun. I wasn’t supposed to be able to leave him. He, he just… he just misses me, he doesn’t have any other way to say it.”
“Yeah. Sure he does.”
Kauri clutched the sweatshirt closer to his chest, pressing just a little against Jack, like he was reminding himself that Jack was right there, and this was real.
Jack looked to the side at him. Man, at least Cori had never been smart enough to make Reid think he wanted him or cared about keeping him - he just took Reid off the shelf to play with and put him back.
“I was supposed to be, um… I messed up but he didn’t get rid of me, he could have sent me for refurbishment but he didn’t, just r-repair, so… so he just wants me home. I just-... I just don’t want to go home, Jack. Home... he hurts me a lot, now.”
Refurbishment had Jack’s gut twisting. There were so many phantom pains when he thought about that place and Ruby. “So do what you want. Don’t go home,” he shrugged. “I mean, he can’t be exciting to go home to if he’s hurting you when you’re not around. Can’t imagine what he does when you are.”
Actually, he could. Very vividly.
Jack stopped by a building door and bent, took a pair of keys from out of his sock - the only keys he owned. He unlocked the door to the stairwell and led Kauri up. “Make sure that closes behind you. Don’t wanna get any bums hanging around.”
Kauri looked quickly back over his shoulder, as though there might be some of those bums already ready to leap through the second their backs were turned. He pulled the door shut firmly, listened for the loud click as it closed and locked.
Then he turned back, following Jack up quickly, hissing occasionally as it jostled what he was pretty sure was a bruised rib.
"Well, I wasn't supposed to leave. He was nice, b-before I, um, was… incorrect. Aberrant pet," he muttered to himself. "Incorrect mental process. He got mean b-because I, um, he thought I was… looking at another pet."
“Well, they usually start nice. Then there’s… something… and their real self comes out.” Jack looked back over his shoulder, brow raised. “Looking at another pet? What, like you liked another guy?”
"I don’t think we count as guys,” Kauri said, a little confused. “Besides, um, pets don't feel emotional connections. The only individual a pet can develop an emotional bond with is its owner or owners-... You probably learned that, too. S-sorry, it's automatic…"
“Oh...sure. Spent a day arguing with my handler on that one just cause I could,” Jack laughed a little and shrugged. “Emotional connections aren’t... well. Haven’t had many.”
After they were up the first flight, they walked down the hallway. Jack stopped at the third door on the right, tested the knob. All good. He unlocked it and stepped in. The moment he was in, he hung up his jacket in the small closet, beside a denim jacket and a brown leather instead of the black he’d worn tonight. Then he peeled off his crop top, back littered in scars.
Kauri swallowed, watching Jack, and when he pulled his shirt off Kauri’s eyebrows rose, just a little. It’s been days, some part of him piped up, insistent. Kauri shifted uneasily. Owen had stopped caring about whether or not Kauri felt good in bed since he’d come back home from repair, and things had been mostly painful - and now he’d been gone for five days and his body wasn’t used to that any longer…
“Deadbolt the door behind you, set your bag wherever. Your Roomba can do its thing if you want. Shoes off - the floor’s clean and I don’t wanna track dirt everywhere,” he added, going to one knee to untie his work boots. Under his left foot, in the sole of the boot, he pulled out several folded-up hundreds. He stuck those in his jean short pocket. “I’m gonna go stash this and get some clothes on.”
“Uh-huh,” Kauri said, distantly, still sort of thinking about Jack without his shirt on - the absence of a mark inside his left wrist, but also the rest of him, too - as he dropped the backpack to the floor, stepped out of the too-big slides, and let Keira out to sit on the ground. “Her, uh-” His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat. “Her wheels are broken, she doesn’t… clean much now. That’s why he wanted to get rid of her. Um… can I… is there a place I can change, or, or out here, or…?”
Jack walked to his room - the kitchen and eating area, along with a comfortable loveseat and a tv, were all one space. The bathroom and bedroom were both small, separate rooms. “Yeah, bathroom, or out there. Wherever. I see bodies all the time, man, doesn’t bug me.”
Kauri nodded, and thought that if he weren't what he was, he would want to use the bathroom, for privacy.
But he was what he was, and so he peeled the sodden, bloody, ruined blue cashmere off of himself without hesitating further, dropping it with a wet thump into the trash can.
The little circles along his collarbone still glowed faintly, a soft pulsing light. All the new red spots that would blossom into bruises couldn't quite disguise the darker, older marks already there. All his suggestions that Owen didn't hurt him all that badly became an obvious lie when he could see the evidence left since he'd come back from repair.
Kauri had been controlled, but he had proven to Owen he could no longer be trusted, and life had been… worse, since he’d come home, and he could only lie about that as long as no one saw his skin.
He swallowed, peeling his pants off, too, shivering with damp skin in the chilly air as he dug through one of the grocery bags to pull the sweatpants out.
Just as he pulled out the simple black sweatpants, fire lit along his collarbone, racing out through his nerves.
Kauri crumpled naked back to the floor, muscles rigid. He curled into a ball, jamming his hand against the little circles, whining low in his throat at the pain.
Jack had pulled on a pair of thrifted slacks when he heard a soft noise. He paused, listening, and then decided he was imagining it and reached for a shirt.
Along Kauri’s collarbone, the line of metal suddenly turned a bright and brilliant glowing sky blue. “Ow, ow, hurts, h-hurts, ow ow ow-"
On the floor a few feet away the stationary Roomba began to call out in a loud mechanical voice HELP KAURI HELP KAURI HELP KAURI.
Jack was running back at the first cry of pain. The Roomba’s noise made things feel surreal - how could a robot asking for help not be? - but he made it quickly and dropped to his knees.
Jack hesitated, hand hovering over Kauri’s shoulder, worried the current would carry.
Kauri twisted around to look up at him, blue eyes wide and focused on something far beyond him, making a constant helpless low whine in his throat. He reached out to grab Jack's wrist, his fingers shaking, but he gripped on tight.
Jack startled at the quick grasp, but he let Kauri take him.
"P-push, on, on it, h-helps-" Kauri tried to bring Jack's hand over the line of metal. His voice shook with the electrical current, forced out between gritted teeth with a jaw that would barely move, tears standing in his eyes. "Push on th-them-... Ow, I'm, I'm sorry, Oh-Owen, I'm so sorry-"
The Roomba dropped the volume of its voice, but it did not stop repeating its plea.
“Fuck, Kauri, you don’t need to apologize to him,” Jack muttered as Kauri pushed his hand gradually more and more firmly onto the line of metal, brow furrowed with worry. “Fuck this guy.”
The metal was warm to the touch, warmer than Kauri's skin, but as he pushed on it Kauri's locked muscles started slowly to relax.
The pressure did something - Kauri didn't know what - did something to make it hurt less, and Kauri kept his grip on Jack's wrist, breathing hard, still making low hnnnh, hnnnh sounds, tears running from the corners of his eyes towards the ground.
Jack stared at him, teeth set, worry evident as he watched Kauri cry and listened to his pain.
"No, j-just… just a second, he u-usually d-d-doesn't-" There was a tense moment, Kauri's back arching. He gasped as the metal under Jack's hand went suddenly hot.
Finally, Kauri collapsed back onto the floor.
"F-fuck, h-hate when it does this ah, after," he stammered, limbs twitching and jerking with aftershocks. "S-sorry, sorry, d-didn't mean to…"
“When it does what after? When it heats up?” Jack winced but kept the pressure, glad that he’d stupidly snatched food out of a hot frying pan with his fingers often enough to numb the ends a bit. “What didn’t you mean to do, man?”
"A-all of it… t-to, to go, to… " Kauri's voice shook, riding out the way his muscles tried to lock up, until finally he could relax enough to control his own limbs again. "H-he, ah, I j-just, hnnh." He had to concentrate to let go of Jack's wrist, slowly unwinding his fingers, still twitching as he rolled onto his back, grateful for Jack's cool clean floor.
Jack moved slowly when Kauri let go of his wrist, still leaning over him. He gently wiped the tears away from Kauri’s temple with his fingers, then slowly sat back, cross-legged.
Kauri leaned into the touch automatically, without a second thought. His eyes closed, breathing hard, but at least Jack didn’t hurt. "Hnnnh, it's, um… h-hate my voice like this, like th-the Facility… th-think he's going to bed, turned it up for th-th-that… s-s-saying g-goodnight…"
Jack stared, baffled, and shook his head. “Saying what? I definitely don’t like this guy.”
“I d-don’t want to either,” Kaui said, almost dryly, and opened his eyes again to try on a shaky smile. “I’m s-sorry, this… probably isn’t how you pic-pictured a naked tw-twink on your kitchen floor.” His shaky smile widened, just a little. “H-hey, I made a j-j-joke.”
Jack grinned and shook his head, laughing. “Do you hear me com-... complaining?” he almost had to force the word out. Which was fine. He’d force whatever they stopped in him, like he’d forced reading, thinking, saying what he thought. “Oh no, how do I deal with the naked twink on my kitchen floor getting electroshocked? A helpless hot guy in my kitchen, how terrible for me. Seriously, though, we should find a way to get that thing out. Carefully. Fuck him and his goodnights.”
"D-d-doesn't come out. They put it in me at the, when I got repaired. Th-there's a video… ugh." Kauri pushed himself up a little, resting weight on his elbows. The skin around the metal circles was reddened and looked almost like a halo of sunburn, but the glow had gone back to the usual soft blue light.
"S-sorry. I won't… I'll get m-moving tomorrow. Thank you f-for, um, for helping me.”
“Sure, man. You’re welcome to stay, but if you wanna leave tomorrow that’s your decision,” Jack shrugged. He was a bit disappointed, but that was his own to deal with.
Kauri blinked, surprised at the offer to keep staying, and then his eyes dropped back to Jack’s body, before going back up to his eyes. “Hey, c-can I… you said you were a Romantic but y-y-you're all marked up. Did your owner do that?"
Jack laughed awkwardly and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Uh...some of it. They weren’t allowed to shock me when they trained me. Special order bullshit. So they used drugs and pain. And then some of these are from my customers, but nothing major. I was never actually trained for Romantic besides the positions. Already knew what to do for sex. But I’m stubborn like a goat, so... she had her work cut out for her with my Domestics.”
Jack look pretty pleased about that. He was stubborn. They’d changed him, but he’d fought every bit of it… except when he hadn’t. He didn’t think about that. That was Reid, and Reid didn’t belong here.
"I used to be stubborn, too," Kauri said a little wistfully, sitting up fully as the ache finally subsided the rest of the way. "I think so, anyway. I had to be, if I ran away, right? Training's supposed to get rid of it."
Kauri glanced around, searching the floor with his hands, before he found the black sweatpants behind him. Apparently he'd been laying on them the whole time. When he went to pick them up, his fingers twitched and refused to quite close. "Just like the Facility," he muttered. "H-hey, is it okay if, if I need a second? To get dressed? My, my hands are always bad after discipline."
“Yeah, sure,” Jack reached for the pants and set them on Kauri’s lap. If he let his hand linger just a little longer than necessary, Kauri either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to mind. “Let me know if you need a hand. I’ll get the food going. What are you thinking? Pizza?”
Jack had already turned away when Kauri, looking down at the black pants in his lap and with his shoulders still twitching with the occasional mild aftershock, said softly, “Mostly I’m thinking that I’m r-really fucking lucky I met you tonight.”
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“How is this book both adorable and sexy? The Trouble with Christmas is a big city meets small town, opposite attract hilarious romance full of holiday shenanigans, family, love and sigh-worthy moments. It's one of the must-reads of 2019! I absolutely loved it!" --Naima Simone, USA Today bestselling author
The Trouble with Christmas, an all-new opposites attract romance from USA Today bestselling author Amy Andrews, is available now!
All Suzanne St. Michelle wants is an over-the-top, eggnog-induced holiday with her best friend in Credence, Colorado. But when her hoity-toity parents insist she come home for Christmas in New York, she blurts out that her sexy landlord is actually her boyfriend and she can’t leave him—Joshy loves Christmas. The more twinkle lights the better.
Rancher Joshua Grady does not love Christmas. Or company, or chatty women. Unfortunately for him, the chattiest woman ever has rented the cottage on his ranch, invited her rich, art-scene parents, and now insists he play “fake rancher boyfriend” in a production of the Hokiest Christmas Ever. And somehow…she gets him to agree.
Apparently, he’ll do anything to get his quiet life back. At least there’s mistletoe every two feet—and kissing Suzy is surprisingly easy. But in the midst of acres of tinsel, far too many tacky Christmas sweaters, and a tree that can be seen from space, he’s starting to want what he lost when he was a kid—a family. Too bad it’s with a woman heading back to New York before the ball drops…
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Excerpt
Grady barely felt the chill as he stripped off his freezing, sodden shirt in the equally freezing concrete shell of the mudroom. The silence was distracting. Too distracting, and he could think of little else. The last three mornings, he’d gone about his chores serenaded by chanting monks. Which was strange but…whatever. It didn’t bother him or the animals, and it gave his ranch hands something to laugh about.
Except now there was no music. And that was bothering him, because he suddenly realized he was thinking about her—something he’d been trying not to do. Had her power gone out? Was she sick? Had she fallen in the cottage and smacked her head on the stone floor? Had some kind of seizure? Was she unconscious? Had she decided to up and leave?
Yeah, right…he should be so lucky.
Grady shook his head, growling to himself as he flicked off the running faucet and plunged his hands into the steaming-hot sink of water, washing off the caked-on muck from his hands and arms and chest courtesy of a calf that had gotten itself bogged in a freezing quagmire caused by recent rain and melting almost-frozen ground.
He’d managed to rope it out with the help of two of his hands, its plaintive mooing and the distress of its mother keeping everyone focused on the job but somehow, when they were almost there, he’d managed to lose his balance and fall into the frigid mud.
His hands had laughed their asses off as they’d dragged his out of the muck.
The hot water felt good on his chilled skin as he picked up the cake of soap and lathered his arms and chest and neck. He needed a real shower, of course, but he’d learned a long time ago to wash up before he went inside. The plumbing in the mudroom was way more forgiving than the more delicate pipes inside the cabin.
Thankfully his jeans weren’t as mucky. Ordinarily he’d have stripped them off in the mudroom, too, and walked from the barn to the cabin in his underwear—isolated living did have its advantages—but he wasn’t about to do that with Suzanne St. Michellenearby.
And great…just great. He was thinking about her again.
He obviously wasn’t getting laid enough. Just how long hadit been since he’d been with a woman? Well over a year ago. Probably closer to two. Because that had to be it, that had to be the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about the curvy New Yorker even though she’d stayed on her turf exactly as he had demanded.
Reaching with one hand for the fresh towel that hung over the hook above the sink, he pulled the plug with the other, then proceeded to towel dry. At least up until he heard a faint gasp and spun around to find the woman on his mind standing just inside the doorway, her curves hidden in a huge red coat, that green knitted cap pulled down low over her forehead and ears.
His hands paused mid drying the back of his neck. The room wasn’t big, maybe five feet by five feet, which meant she was way closer to him than he was comfortable with, given his state of undress.
“Oh…I’m…sorry.” Her breath misted into the frigid air as her voice faltered. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
Her eyes fell to his chest, zeroed in on the nickel-size scar just beneath his right collarbone courtesy of some shrapnel, before straying to his pecs and abs for what seemed like forever, the awkward silence stretching. Normally Grady wouldn’t bother filling it because silences were where he felt most comfortable and the other person generally rushed in to fill them up. But Suzanne wasn’t bothering, either.
At least not with her mouth anyway.
Her eyes were a different story. They were having an entire conversation as they roved all over his chest. She was looking at him like he was a slice of one of Annie’s pies, and Christ if that wasn’t like a bullet straight to his dick. The kind of friendly fire he could do without.
Fucking hell. He didn’t want to be pie. Not this woman’s. Not any woman’s. He wanted to be…tofu. Nobody lusted after tofu.
“Had some trouble with a calf.” Grady felt like an explanation might help the situation, but he still felt like an idiot making small talk.
“Was it being born?” She pulled her gaze from his abs to his eyes. “Did you have to stick your hand up inside and drag it out? I saw that on a documentary once and couldn’t believe how messy it was. And how calm the mother was. I mean, I’m not sure I’d be okay to just stand there while someone stuck their entire arm up my hoo-ha, right?”
She hesitated for a moment like she’d done the first day they’d met, like she wasn’t sure this was a topic for polite conversation. But her mouth had already committed, so she jutted her chin and went for it.
“I know it has to be done and, let’s face it, a calf is much bigger than a man’s arm—”
Her gaze dropped to his arms via the scar, his chest, and his belly button. She was looking at him like pie again. Annie’s pecan pie with melted butter. Sweet and savory all at once. An orgasm for the tongue.
Not tofu. Plain, tasteless, orgasmlessTofu.
“Even yours,” she continued, forcing her gaze back to his face, and it took Grady a moment to pick up the thread of her ramblings. She shuddered. “But no thank you. I mean, seriously, females of all species really do get a raw deal. I bet you if the males had to push out disproportionately bigger babies through the passage provided for the process, they’d have invented some kind of handy zipper system a long time ago. Some dude would have patented the bejesus out of it.”
She stopped abruptly, snapping her lips closed as if her mouth had finally received the frantic shut the fuck upmessages from her brain. Her cheeks looked pink, but then so did her nose, so it was probably just the nippy December weather.
Grady stared at her, not only at the amount of words she’d spoken but at the content of her monologue. “We…” He spoke because it felt like his turn, but he didn’t even know what to do about cows with zippers. “We don’t calve in winter.”
“Oh, right.” She nodded briskly, her cheeks definitely growing pinker now. “That makes sense. Who wants to be cold and in pain, right?”
She gave a funny little half smile that ended quickly and awkwardly. Then they just stood and stared at each other for several beats longer than was normal or even comfortable, their warm breaths misting into the air.
Tucking her hands into the pockets of her red coat, she said, “I hope it’s okay to have a look around?”
Grady gave a brief, terse nod. “Just don’t go too far or go near the animals.” Last thing he needed was to rescue some damn fool city slicker who’d wandered off and gotten herself lost.
She nodded absently as her gaze drifted again, licking over his chest, lingering on the scar. He should be freezing, half-naked in a room that was little more than an icebox, but with her looking at him like she was trying to commit every line and chest hair to memory, he only felt hot.
Really fucking hot. Melted butter on pecan pie hot.
“I hope—” Her voice sounded a little uneven, and she cleared her throat. “I hope my music hasn’t been disturbing you the last few days.”
He wasn’t sure why she was making small talk—although it was preferable to incessant observations about cow hoo-has and zippers. Nor was he sure why he was standing ramrod straight in front of her, thinking about pie when he should be grabbing the spare shirt he kept in the cupboard above the washbasin and getting decent.
But up had been down since the moment she’d arrived.
“It’s fine,” he dismissed. It hadn’t been the music that had been disturbing him, that was for sure.
She nodded again, glancing around the room briefly before settling her eyes back on his chest. “Well…I guess I’ll…” She didn’t finish the sentence as her gaze once again zeroed in on the scar, and her lips rolled together in contemplation. “Do you mind—?” She stepped forward and raised her hand tentatively.
When he didn’t move because he was paralyzed by the realization she was actually going to touch him, she became bolder, stepping in closer again as her fingers made contact. She was so close now, he could smell her. Coffee and snickerdoodles? And something sharp, maybe chemical. Paint, he supposed.
“Is it a bullet wound?”
Grady flinched as she touched the scar, her fingers like icicles as they sunk into the small indentation. He closed his eyes as heat bloomed from the center, spreading like a ripple, burning like a furnace down the length of his body.
Blood pulsed hard and thick, everywhere. Damn it, she might as well be wrapping that cold hand around the throbbing hardness pressing into the zipper of his fly. It was probably forty degrees in this concrete box, but it felt like a sauna, and it was an easy 120 inside his boxers.
He swallowed. “It’s from…shrapnel.”
He had no idea why he wasn’t stepping back. He should step back. He should have said, Yes, I do mind, told her it was none of her business. He should be finding a shirt.
Find a fucking shirt, idiot.
“Did it hurt?”
Surprised by the question, he glanced down to find the bulky knit of her hat a whisker away from brushing the underside of his chin. “Like a bastard.”
She looked up and they were close—her mouth was close—her fingers a balm to the old wound that still made his shoulder ache on cold winter mornings. His heart thumped like a jungle drum and god almighty, it was hot enough in here to grow bananas.
“Was it bad? Did you bleed a lot?”
His throat was dry as the concrete beneath his feet. “It bled some.” Then, finally getting his shit together, he took a step back, and her hand slid away.
If his distancing bothered her, she didn’t show it, just simply said, “Thank you for your service.”
Grady didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say to this standard platitude. He appreciated the sentiment, but he’d just been doing his job. So he nodded, his pulse reverberating like a dinner gong in his ears, as she slowly backed out of the room and disappeared from sight.
Reaching for the sink, Grady gripped the curved edge in both his hands and hunched over, dropping his head down between his shoulder blades and taking some deep steadying breaths.
January could not come soon enough.
About Amy Andrews
Amy is an Aussie author of hot contemporary romance who believes in multiple orgasms, mighty wangs and happily ever afters. She’s been penning them for over twenty years and has 70+ books to her name.
As well as unforgettable characters and great sex you’ll also be treated to some laughs and a dollop of quirk because Amy doesn’t seem to know how to write a book without a bit of both. You might also cry a little because there’s nothing she loves more than a laughy-criey book!
She also loves sunsets and rainbows, unicorns and mermaids, booze and travel. And her home that overlooks the ocean. She may also happen to believe she was a Roman goddess in her past life because its the only thing that explains her adoration for all things Italy.
Connect with Amy
Instagram:@amyandrewsbooks http://bit.ly/2Z7Ss28
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Website: http://amyandrews.com.au/
My Review
5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Christmas Romance Gold!
OH SO GOOD!! This is Christmas Gold! It deserves all the stars and more. I was immediately hooked, by this opposites attract story and I didn’t want this to end. Filled with so many LOL moments, tacky Christmas sweaters, x-rated Christmas cookies, over-the-top Christmas decorations, and a fake romance with a-hot-surly rancher, that was an erotic author’s wet dream. I think the cover captures Joshua perfectly, a seriously hot rancher with a subdued confidence.
I was totally taken by Joshua Grady, all sexy-broody-looming-silent-hunk of a rancher with his quiet, solitary life. But every December is extremely difficult for him, as he has to deal with the anniversary, and the loss of his parents and high school sweetheart.
So when Suzanne St. Michelle a artsy, curvy, talkative woman arrives much to his dislike, to stay a month in the cabin next to his ranch, he has no intentions of being friendly. Suzanne is there to find her muse and to paint the scenery that is all around her. But one look at Joshua and her muse is all about painting him. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife. The heat is electric between them. She shook him to his core with her constant chatter, and womanly curves. Spine tingling heat!
But when Suzanne tells her parents a big white lie, that she is spending Christmas with her new boyfriend Joshy, who loved all things Christmas and had decorated his place for her. Her parents are on their way to meet him. Now Suzanne just had to get Josh to play along. He knew she was trouble, he just thought he could resist her. Their banter is hilarious. And their times together will touch your soul.
Get ready to get your Christmas spirit on. You don’t want to miss this one! Oh how I LOVE an Amy Andrews’ story and this is her best yet!
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