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Chapter Five

Chris

I groaned quietly as I settled myself in front of the TV, Saul in my arms after Jesse had gone to bed. I always struggled the night after working a week of nights, trying to reset my body clock. You’d think I was used to it.

"You okay?" Saul asked, his head resting against my chest.

"Yeah," I sighed, running my fingers through his hair. "Just processing everything."

Saul nodded, understanding without me having to explain further. That was one of the things I loved most about him—his ability to read me, to know when to push and when to just be present.

"I scared him," I said quietly. "When I walked in and saw him kissing you."

"You were surprised," Saul corrected. "We both were."

I huffed a humorless laugh. "I didn't expect to wake up from my nap and find that scene in the kitchen." I tightened my arm around Saul's shoulders. "Did he tell you anything else? While I was asleep?"

Saul shifted slightly to look up at me. "He did. That bastard Graham met him in the diner he worked at. Groomed him. Offered him a cheap apartment then when Jesse started realizing he wasn’t all he’d built himself up as, he drugged him and put him in the cage."

"Jesus," I muttered, anger flaring hot in my chest. "And the police still haven't found him?"

"Not as far as I know," Saul said. "Jesse's terrified he'll come looking for him."

I clenched my jaw, the protective instinct I'd felt since pulling Jesse from that cage intensifying. "If he does, he'll have to go through me first."

"That's exactly what I told him," Saul said, a small smile touching his lips. "But I’m starting to think there’s more to this. What’s scaring Jesse so much he’s afraid to tell the cops who this man is? I've never wanted to hurt anyone before, but this Graham..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening.

I pressed a kiss to his temple, understanding completely. Saul was the gentlest person I knew—the man who rescued injured birds and coaxed feral cats out from under porches—but when it came to protecting those he cared about, there was steel beneath that softness.

"What do you think about him staying longer?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. "I mean, he has nowhere else to go, and he's still recovering."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Saul admitted. "I've already been thinking about what he'll need. I ordered him some clothes."

I chuckled. "Yeah, he's swimming in yours. And mine would swallow him whole."

"I ordered some other basics online while you were sleeping," Saul said. "Nothing fancy, just essentials. They should arrive tomorrow."

"Of course you did," I murmured fondly.

Saul fidgeted. “That was what set the whole thing off.” He glanced at me his eyes suddenly wary. “I told him I was ordering some basics and he started to cry and I?—”

“Went to comfort him like the softy you are,” I finished for him, reaching over and capturing his lips in a very satisfying kiss. I hated working nights, and my cock gave a throb in agreement.

Saul broke away. “He’s not Arran.”

I nodded and pulled Saul even closer. Arran had been our first attempt at gaining a submissive that would be what we both needed.

He’d nearly broken us apart. He’d decided that for some reason Saul was the perfect boyfriend because he came from and had money, and I was simply in the way.

He’d done everything he could to split us up until we became wise to it, but the trouble was it had been less than a year after we’d gotten together and he’d nearly succeeded.

It had all come to a head when the cops had turned up because they’d had an anonymous tip-off that apparently I’d whipped Arran.

What had actually happened was all three of us had gone to my club and after meeting Arran there three months prior and finding out he was a masochist I’d had a session with him.

I actually wasn’t a sadist, but I was a whip-master and I thought I’d made both my boyfriends happy.

Arran because he’d gotten the stripes he wanted, and Saul because he’d been able to provide the aftercare.

The problem, we both knew, was that our tastes differed.

I needed a hundred percent control in the bedroom, and while Saul gave me that, I was aware his needs weren’t being met.

Saul needed someone he could spoil in a special way.

I didn’t mean he needed to diaper a Little, but having a blissed-out boy curled up on his lap clutching a stuffie while he read him a story was Saul’s idea of heaven.

And I couldn’t give him that. Which is why we’d tried unsuccessfully to bring a third into our relationship in the first place.

I stroked Saul's cheek, my thumb tracing the curve of his jaw. "I know he's not Arran. And even if he was, we're stronger now. Wiser."

"He's just so broken, Chris," Saul whispered, his eyes reflecting the pain he felt for Jesse. "That moment in the kitchen—he thought it was expected. That's what that monster taught him: kindness always comes with a sexual price tag."

I nodded, my jaw tightening. "We'll help him understand that's not how the world has to be."

"If he stays," Saul said quietly.

"He'll stay," I replied with certainty. "At least for a while. He has nowhere else to go, and he needs time to heal."

“He needs a doctor, and a therapist,” Saul whispered.

I hesitated because I knew what Saul was saying. If he’d been raped, what STD’s he may have. “Let’s talk to him in the morning.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the TV playing softly in the background.

My mind drifted to Jesse—his thin frame, the haunted look in his eyes, the way he flinched at sudden movements.

The fierce protectiveness I felt surprised me.

I'd pulled plenty of people from dangerous situations in my job, but this was different somehow.

"You know," Saul said thoughtfully, "when he mentioned he used to work in a diner, he said he liked cooking."

I glanced down at him, recognizing the tone. "Are you already planning to take him to the restaurant?"

Saul shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe. When he's ready.” Saul was quiet for a moment. "There's something about him, Chris. I can't explain it."

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. From the moment I'd pulled Jesse from that cage, I'd felt a connection to him that went beyond rescuer and victim. It wasn't sexual—not with everything he'd been through—but there was something there. A sense that our paths crossing wasn't an accident.

"I feel it too," I admitted. "But right now, he needs stability and safety. Nothing more."

"Agreed," Saul said, snuggling closer. "Though I think once he's had some time to heal, he might fit perfectly in our lives."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you matchmaking again?"

Saul grinned up at me. "I'm just saying we've been talking about finding the right third for years. Someone who complements both of us. Someone who needs what each of us can give."

"Saul," I warned gently. "He's been through hell. He's not in any state to consider that kind of relationship. Might never be."

"I know," Saul sighed, his expression sobering. "And I'm not suggesting anything happening anytime soon. Or ever, if that's not what he wants or needs. I just... I can see possibilities, that's all."

I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That's one of the things I love about you. You always see possibilities where others might not."

A soft sound from down the hall made us both glance up. I strained to listen, and there it was again—a muffled cry.

"Nightmare," Saul murmured, already moving to stand.

I caught his hand. "Let me? I think... I think he needs to see I'm not angry with him."

Saul nodded, understanding immediately. "Just move slowly. Don't crowd him."

I made my way down the hall to the guest room, pausing outside the door to listen. The sounds were clearer now— whimpers and broken pleas that made my chest ache. I knocked gently.

"Jesse? It's Chris. Can I come in?"

No response, just another frightened sound.

I opened the door slowly, keeping my movements deliberate.

The room was dark except for the small nightlight Saul had plugged in earlier.

Jesse was tangled in the sheets, his thin body thrashing weakly.

I approached the bed cautiously. "Jesse," I called softly. "It's just a nightmare. You're safe."

When he didn't wake, I sat carefully on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Jesse, wake up. You're okay." I knew Saul had paused in the doorway.

He jolted awake with a strangled gasp, eyes wild with terror as he scrambled backward until he hit the headboard. For a moment, he didn't seem to recognize me.

"It's Chris," I said, keeping my voice low and calm. "You're at our house, remember? You're safe."

Recognition slowly dawned in his eyes, followed by embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"No, we were still up. It takes me a while to change my body clock when I’ve been on nights." I kept my distance, not wanting to crowd him. "Bad dream?"

Jesse nodded, pulling his knees to his chest. "I thought... I was back there."

My heart ached for him. "You're not. And you never will be again."

He looked so small and vulnerable in the dim light, his borrowed t-shirt slipping off one bony shoulder. The bruises on his arms were more visible now, yellowing at the edges but still stark against his pale skin.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked. "Water? Another blanket?"

Jesse hesitated, then asked in a small voice, "Could you... could you stay? Just for a minute?" He immediately backtracked. "I'm sorry, that's stupid. You should get back to Saul. I'm fine, really."

"I'm right here," Saul's voice came from the doorway. He entered the room and perched on the other side of the bed, careful to leave space. "And it's not stupid at all."

Jesse looked between us, his expression uncertain. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not," I said firmly. "We all have nightmares sometimes."

A ghost of a smile touched Jesse's lips. "Even you?"

I nodded. "Firefighting comes with its share of bad memories. Saul's gotten pretty good at talking me down when the dreams get bad."

"It's true," Saul confirmed. "This big guy isn't always as tough as he looks. And sometimes," Saul added gently, "it helps to talk about them. Not always, but sometimes bringing the fear into the light makes it less powerful."

Jesse's gaze dropped to his hands. "I dreamed he found me," he whispered.

"That he was dragging me back to that cage.

That you both tried to stop him, but he.

.." His voice broke and we both moved simultaneously. One moment we were sitting on the edge of the bed, and the next Saul had his arms wrapped around Jesse’s, and I had my arms wrapped around both of them.

"He can't get to you here," I murmured against his hair. "I promise."

We stayed like that for several minutes, until Jesse's breathing steadied and the trembling subsided. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back, wiping at his eyes with the hem of his borrowed shirt.

"Better?" Saul asked softly.

Jesse nodded, a flush of embarrassment coloring his pale cheeks. "Sorry for falling apart on you guys."

"Don't apologize for having normal reactions," I said, my voice firmer than I intended. I softened my tone. "Seriously, Jesse. You've been through hell. You're allowed to fall apart sometimes."

He looked up at me, his blue eyes still bright with unshed tears. "You're really not mad about earlier? About what I did?"

"Not even a little bit," I assured him.

"We understand why it happened," Saul added. "And we're not holding it against you."

Jesse's shoulders slumped with relief. "I don't know why you're both being so nice to me."

I watched as Saul mother-henned Jesse and Jesse ate it up, and for the first time my concern wasn’t just for Jesse, but for Saul as well.

Because the long-term likelihood that Jesse could ever be the answer to what we needed was less than zero.

And when we’d helped him heal and Jesse eventually left, it would kill Saul.

In fact if moving Jesse to some sort of safe house to protect Saul had been an option I would do it.

But as I watched them together, I knew it was already too late.