Chess Part Two Box Set Page 3

  He’d almost made it too when Rookie appeared at the other end of the hall. Rook gasped. “Knight! What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Taking a bath. I’m fine.” Shoo.

  “By yourself?” Rookie sounded and looked utterly shocked.

  “Uh-huh. I’ll be great. Have a good morning.” Afternoon? Evening? He wasn’t sure.

  “I’ll help. Bish can too. Bishop,” Rook called out.

  “Oh, don’t…”

  “Coming!” Bish’s voice was like a bullhorn and his huge lover stormed in. “Knight? What are you doing up?”

  Oh, Christ.

  “He wants a bath.” Rookie was such a tattle tale.

  “I’m fine.” He moved toward the bathroom, steady, slow.

  “You’re not taking a bath on your own,” growled Bishop.

  “We can help!” Rookie bounced ahead of him into the bathroom.

  “I just want to soak.” He didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

  “Soaking sounds wonderful. I’ll join you.” Bishop paced him, walking slowly beside him while Rookie went right for the tub, started filling it.

  He would have bitched, but by the time he was at the tub he was soaked with sweat, panting.

  “Help me get him in, Rookie,” Bishop ordered.

  His lovers stripped him, and each grabbed an arm, helping him step into the tub. He was so weak—it was nutty and more than a little frustrating, but the hot water felt good enough that he sobbed. Bishop slid in with him, drawing him back against his solid chest, holding him.

  “Hey.” He leaned hard against Bish, closing his eyes.

  “Hey.” Bishop kissed his neck.

  “I’ll wash you.” Rookie started splashing in the water.

  “Please, Rookie.” He just wanted to float, to rest a little while.

  “I’ll be quick. And then you and Bish can turn into prunes and when you get out, your junk will be clean.”

  Bishop chuckled, chest moving behind him. Knight didn’t want to smile. He didn’t, but he had to. Rook was a goof. Rook was also as good as his word, quickly soaping Knight up and washing him thoroughly, giving special attention to his cock and balls.

  “We’ll need to put the rings back in, some day,” Rook said, caressing his prick.

  Bishop nodded behind him. “We will.”

  “Someday.” He didn’t want to think about that.

  “You know Bish will know when it’s time.” Rookie smiled back at Bishop.

  Knight did know. He wasn’t going to ponder it.

  Rook’s lips suddenly pressed against his, eager and warm, sweet. “Love you, K.”

  “Thank you, Rookie.” He stroked Rook’s cheek, petting his sweet lover.

  “You’re welcome, K.” Rook gave him another kiss, snogged on Bishop for a second, then sashayed out of the bathroom, leaving him alone with Bish.

  “Hey.” God, he felt like his skin was too small.

  Bishop kissed his shoulder. “Hey, baby. It’s just you and me now—tell me how you’re really feeling.”

  “Tired. Like bone-deep tired.” Like he could sleep forever and never wake up again. “Glad to be home, though.”

  “Well you can sleep and eat and heal here. And you’ve got the three of us to cater to you.” Bishop stroked his belly.

  “Are you happy to have me back?” He didn’t like that he was asking, but he wanted to know. Needed to.

  “I am ecstatic to have you back.” Bishop’s words were deadly serious.

  Knight nodded and sighed, then leaned, letting the hot water buoy him. Bishop kept touching him. It wasn’t sexual, it was…necessary. Every so often he would float away, like his brain was trying to escape, and Bish’s touch would bring him back.

  “We have to get out soon,” murmured Bishop. “You’re turning into a prune.”

  “Just let me stay here forever.” He could float and sleep until the end of time.

  “Bishop? He needs to get out of the hot water. His heart rate.”

  Damn it, it was none of Jason’s business. “Go away, Jase. I’m fine.”

  “No, our baby boy is right. Time to get out.” Bishop was a traitor.

  Bishop pushed him up and Jason helped. He grumbled, but the fluffy robe and socks were just out of the dryer, as were the towels, so it made it that much easier.

  Bishop picked him up and carried him. “Bed? Or do you want to lie on the couch in the living room for a bit?”

  “I could sit on the couch with you.” He was feeling almost strong enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

  “We’ll lie you down with a bunch of pillows to prop you up,” Bishop decided. “Jase.”

  Jason nodded and hurried ahead of them. Thank God Bishop was carrying him, the hall was too much to even look at.

  Rookie and Jason were making the couch look like a pile of cushions, and Bishop put him down gently, like he was something precious.

  “Stay with me.” He wasn’t sure if he meant just Bishop or all of them. Blankets were draped over him, his head propped up.

  “Just try and get rid of us.” Rookie settled on the floor near his head. “You want to watch a movie, K?”

  “I don’t care, Rookie.” He wasn’t being a dramatic bitch, either. He didn’t actually care.

  “Okay, we’ll throw on 300. I know you love that shit.”

  “Spartans!” His word was weak, quiet, but they all laughed anyway.

  Jason put the movie in and Bishop grabbed them some popcorn and soda, juice for Knight. In seconds he was surrounded by his lovers, coddled and cuddled. He rested his cheek down on Bishop’s shoulder, closed his eyes.

  It was the most normal thing he’d done in what felt like a hundred years. He was just going to have to stay, right here.

  Maybe forever.

  * * * *

  They had a few easy days of bathing and watching movies and napping. Bishop knew that Knight would eventually start chomping at the bit and he was ready. He had sketchbooks, various types of pens and pencils and everything he could think of to make art with. He was just waiting for the signs.

  One night he woke up with Knight sitting in the window box, eyes on the moon. Then the next day Knight wasn’t hungry, was restless. It had gone on all day and he needed to nip it in the bud before Knight was up again all night.

  “Hey, baby,” he said quietly. “I have something to show you.”

  “Show me?” Those dark, dark eyes were sad, quiet.

  “Yeah, come on. In Jason’s old room.” It was all set up for Knight.

  “Okay.”

  Bishop helped Knight up, watched as the man moved across the floor. The walker was in the garage now, Knight managing with a cane.

  “Look at that sexy ass,” he murmured.

  “There’s nothing sexy about me right now.”

  “Maybe you don’t feel sexy, but you sure as hell look it. Especially that ass.”

  Knight shrugged, hid in his too long hair, his stubble. Still, Bish could see the flush, the pleasure.

  He drew Knight into Jason’s old room and turned on the light. “This is yours now.”

  He’d set the room up as a studio—good lights, a soft chair, easel and paints and a table.

  Knight blinked, stared. “Oh.”

  “There’s plenty of good light here during the day.” Trust Knight to pick the middle of the night to finally get that itch.

  “You did this?”

  Well, Knight couldn’t manage the stairs into the basement, not yet, so of course he had. “Yeah. Jason’s basically moved in with Rookie, so the room was available…”

  Knight looked around, nostrils twitching. “I love it.”

  Wow. Impressive.

  “I’ll let Jason know—he’ll be glad you’re happy with the results.” Bishop was trying not to do a jig—Knight loved the room.

  Knight nodded, moving to the chair, to the pile of paper, of pencils.

  “There’s sketchbooks and papers, pens, charcoal, all so
rts of stuff in the drawers. So whatever you’re inspired to do.” He wanted to show Knight everything.

  “Oh.” Knight was opening drawers, muttering softly to himself.

  “And if there’s anything you need that you don’t have, just let one of us know.” He knew it had messed with Knight’s head, not to be able to create the way he wanted to. Sketches were one thing, Knight needed to create art.

  Knight looked at him. “Music? Can I have my music from downstairs?”

  Grinning, Bishop went over to the desk and grabbed a remote, handing it over. They’d put in surround sound speakers. Rookie had picked them up a couple of days ago.

  Knight looked at him like he was a magician.

  “You’re welcome, baby.”

  Knight grabbed his fingers, squeezed them.

  Bishop took a kiss and started stripping. “You need a model?”

  That smile was the first real, normal look he’d had from Knight in months. Oh, fuck yes.

  Beaming back, he asked, “Where do you want me?”

  “Over by the window, Mouse. The moonlight is perfect.”

  He’d forgotten how intense it was, to have Knight see him, to have every line of his body sketched, known, and he felt himself tightening in anticipation as he dragged the chair over to where Knight wanted him. He sat, letting the chair support him, his legs splayed. “Like this?” It didn’t matter how he sat, really, as long as he gave Knight a starting point. His lover would move him however Knight wanted him.

  “Are you comfortable?” Knight turned a spotlight on him, adding to the moonlight.

  The question surprised him—Knight didn’t usually care, not when it came to his art. “I am.”

  “Good.” Knight’s head bent, and he started working, moving with the music.

  It made Bishop smile and he watched Knight as his lover’s fingers moved over the paper. Knight got this look when he was working. It wasn’t happiness—it was too intense for that. It was…like Knight was doing what he was made for.

  It had been too long since Bishop had seen that look. He had been terrified it was gone for good. Now he could watch it for the rest of the night and all day long. If Knight lasted that long. It would be his job to make sure Knight stopped before it became too much.

  The music, the scritch-scratching of the pencil was hypnotic and he found himself dozing off.

  Knight was riding him, making them both wild. His lover, bouncing on his cock, head thrown back. Fuck, Knight was perfect. Beautiful. His. He groaned, hips moving, driving up harder, faster.

  He buried himself up into Knight’s body, meeting his lover every time. Fuck. Fuck, his Knight. God, so fucking sweet. He pushed up, coming hard and gasping…

  …as he woke. In the chair.

  “Hey.” Knight was watching him, eyes devouring him, hands still sketching. “Good dream?”

  “Christ, yeah. It was so real.” He met Knight’s eyes. “You were riding me.”

  “I was drawing you.”

  “Not in my dream you weren’t.” He’d actually come from it, like a teenager having a wet dream.

  And over by Knight, on the floor where they’d dropped as they were done, there were dozens—maybe a hundred—pieces of papers with him sketched on them.

  “How long was I out?” He didn’t want Knight to overdo it and the sun was coming up.

  “Three hours, give or take.”

  “You should have woken me.” He got up and moved toward Knight. Three hours was more than enough time for today. He didn’t want Knight making himself too sore to sketch for ages and he could see Knight’s hands, like claws around the pencil already.

  He took hold of them, holding on and warming Knight’s skin. “It’s time to call it a day.”

  “A day? I was working. Drawing you.”

  “And you’ve had three hours. Give or take.” Probably closer to almost five—he hadn’t dozed off right away. He helped Knight let go of the charcoal, opening those poor fingers.

  “Oh. Oh, fuck. Bish…”

  Oh, ow. Knight’s fingers looked painful.

  “Let’s find you some painkillers.” He put his arm around Knight and led his lover slowly back to the bedroom. Painkillers and a nap.

  “Where are we going? I want to paint.” Knight was whining, whether because he really wanted to paint or because his fingers were hurting, Bishop didn’t know.

  “You can paint tomorrow.” He got Knight to the bedroom door and called out, “Hey, Rookie? Jason? Can you dig us up a snack?”

  “Sure thing,” drifted from the living room.

  Knight’s hands needed heat, gentle massage, care, so if he could get Rook or Jason to fetch for him, he could concentrate on Knight.

  Bishop got Knight settled back in bed, with the pillows stacked behind him. After grabbing the oil, he heated it between his fingers, then began to massage Knight’s hands.

  “Bish…” Knight’s eyes crossed.

  “Shh. Just let me do this. Jason’s getting us food.” At least he hoped it was Jason if there was actual cooking involved—that way it would be good.

  “Okay…” Knight almost whined, head falling back. “It still worked.”

  “It did. You did.” He’d been worried himself, but Knight had worked at his art like it was as natural as breathing. Which was how it was supposed to work for Knight. It was the man’s own special brand of magic.

  “I could sketch you for years.”

  “And you will.” Because he was never letting Knight get hurt like that again.

  Knight nodded, eyes rolling into his skull as Bishop moved the massage up to Knight’s thin arms.

  “You can’t push yourself too hard to start, though. Let it happen naturally, easily.” He knew Knight and easy weren’t often companions. His lover always pushed the envelope. Always.

  Like Knight was on exactly the same wavelength, the man asked, “Have I ever done anything the easy way?”

  Bishop grinned. “Never. Not even once.”

  Knight actually smiled for him. “You looked amazing when you came.”

  “I thought you were riding me. It felt amazing, too.” He stroked up to Knight’s shoulders.

  “Mmm. I miss your cock. I miss getting hard.”

  “You can have my cock tomorrow, if you’re good. I’m not saying you get to come, but I could.”

  Knight’s eyes narrowed. “Good? Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “I don’t care if you hurt me—I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “I made grilled cheese sandwiches.” Jason came in, a big tray in hand. “Rook’s bringing some milk.”

  “They smell great.” Because they did.

  And Knight was going to eat, damn it.

  “They do,” agreed Knight.

  Jason beamed. “I made sure yours was just barely toasted, Knight. I know you don’t like your bread too dark.”

  “So good to us, baby boy.” Bishop nudged Knight.

  “You spoil me.” Knight raised one hand, beckoned Jason closer and kissed the kid, hard.

  Rook came in, beaming at them. “Someone had a great morning.”

  Bish couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face.

  “Maybe two someones, eh?” Rookie nudged him.

  “It was a good day. Is there something sweet for later?” Knight asked and Bishop took it as a good sign that he was looking for food.

  “I’m available.” Rookie waggled his eyebrows.

  Knight chuckled. “I want cookies, Rookie.”

  Rook pouted dramatically and Bishop swatted his ass gently. Their Rook was adorable.

  “There’s a neat new bakery down the street. I could run down and get some.” Jason was a good man.

  “I’ll come with you, honey. Let Bish and Knight make their own dessert for a while.” God, Rookie was in a naughty mood.

  “We all need to eat our sandwiches first.” Since when was Knight the logical one?

  Rookie giggled and grabbed one, munching happil
y. Bishop waited until Knight had taken his first bite before starting on his own. As if him not eating could somehow make Knight eat. Logic didn’t always factor in.

  Knight didn’t eat much—about three bites before the sandwich was pushed away.

  “One more bite?” wheedled Rook, sliding his fingers on Knight’s belly.

  “My hands hurt, Rookie.”

  “But your mouth doesn’t.” Rookie tore off a bit of the sandwich and popped it in Knight’s mouth.

  Knight relaxed back against Bish, hummed, and Bishop nodded. Perfect. All told, Rookie got half a sandwich into Knight on top of the original three bites. That was nearly the whole thing. Then Knight hid his face in Bishop’s arms, eyes closing.

  “We’ll go get those cookies.” Rook leaned in and gave Knight a kiss, eyes soft.

  Bishop watched, holding onto his Knight. “Sounds great, Rookie. Get him peanut butter ones.”

  “Yes, boss.” Rook gave him a wink and took a laughing Jason’s hand, heading out and leaving him with his exhausted lover.

  Knight pressed against him, held onto him like the man was afraid he’d leave. He kissed the top of Knight’s head, thanking the universe that they had the means to care for Knight twenty-four seven.

  “Stay with me?” Knight asked.

  Bishop shook his head. “Where would I go?” He’d stayed with Knight in the hospital—he wasn’t about to abandon his lover now they were home.

  “Right.” Knight nibbled along his collarbone. “You looked amazing, jacking off, dreaming about me.”

  His prick jerked, at the touch, at the words. “It was a damn hot dream.” And about the third time Knight had mentioned it. That was good, right?

  “Good. One day I’ll be healed and you’ll want me again.” Knight’s words made him want to growl.

  “Shut up, Knight. I already want you. Badly. Why do you think I’m dreaming about you?”

  Knight shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that you can want me.”

  “You mean when I can do something about wanting you.” He kissed the top of Knight’s head. “I can’t wait to fuck you into the mattress.”