He was the tastiest snack a man could get his hands on. And he was theirs.
“Sorry, Daddy, but I didn’t want to wake you up!”
Pyro snorted and stroked Boar’s arm, yawning as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. “He knew exactly what he was doing.”
Tank smirked and delivered a much harsher slap. This one actually elicited a yelp. “You knew I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Won’t happen again!”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Now get us all drinks. Place your orders, guys,” Tank said and urged Clover to stand. Boar inhaled the scents of food when he took in the red blotches left behind on the milky ass and thighs.
But his attention soon drifted upwards, to several long, dark scars over Clover’s back and thighs, and the brand on his shoulder—just like the one Boar had. He ran his fingers over it with a sigh, but not knowing how to even start the conversation, he smiled at Clover instead.
“I’ll have a cappuccino.”
“Black, with three spoonfuls of sugar,” Pyro said, leaning forward to study the wealth of hot and cold dishes laid out for them on dainty tableware. “Make it strong.”
Drake gently caught Clover’s hand when the boy passed him on the way to the kitchenette, but what he whispered couldn’t have been his drinks order, because it made Clover brighten up.
The pert buttocks jiggled as Clover ran behind the counter and started the coffee machine. This view remained a source of solace for Boar’s throbbing brain. He was about to put some eggs on his plate when a loud thud made him recoil with hands already balling into fists. A numbness squeezed his head, but when silence stretched, he sensed several pairs of eyes following his every movement.
Was this what he’d been reduced to? A man who couldn’t live with others and was afraid of his own shadow?
He cleared his throat and quickly filled his plate, hoping the inquisitive atmosphere would just blow over.
“So… You wanna tell us more about what happened?” Tank asked. “Drake and Clover might want to share in their own time. The gist is that they were tortured but managed to escape a few hours later. When Pyro and I got there, you were already gone.”
Boar clenched his fork. If this was only about him, he’d have cut this topic short and never returned to it again, but the others deserved to know what had gone on in the past months, no matter how much it hurt to remember. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“I tried to run three times, and they’d starved me for it. Then, when I was too weak to fight, they beat me. But I knew I needed to survive, so I trained, and I ate the way they wanted me to, so I could win all the fights.”
Pyro watched him in silence, his head resting on Boar’s shoulder. His eyes were red, and he didn’t have his usual energy, but Boar hoped he hadn’t driven himself as far into cocaine town as he had last time.
Clover cleared his throat, returning with a tray of cups. “Did you really kill a bear?”
Boar swallowed and traced the scars on his face. “Yeah. She gave me those.”
Clover put down the beverage and touched Boar’s face, looking like the same angel Boar had fallen in love with, no matter what he’d been through. Only his dyed hair betrayed that something had changed.
Boar pulled Clover into his lap. “I could either fight or die at that point, and when I thought about all of you, about Clover and Drake being trapped somewhere, I knew I had to fight so that maybe one day I’d get an opportunity to run.”
Clover curled up in his lap, one arm around Boar’s shoulders as he reached for a chocolate croissant. “That’s insanity.”
“I don’t think they assumed I’d win against the bear.” Boar opened his mouth when he realized Clover wanted to feed him. The touch of Clover’s skin against his made being here more real and calmed him down more than even the strongest pills could have.
He opened his mouth and took a bite of the pastry, relaxing into the soothing touch. Pyro picked up a load of pancakes topped with everything one might dream of and started filling his plate without a word. He’d heard it all last night anyway, and after even more hours off his stimulants, he was likely not feeling all that great. Boar rubbed his lover’s nape while chewing on the delicious pastry, hand delivered by the prettiest of boys.
“They had no idea who they were dealing with,” Clover said and nuzzled Boar’s cheek.
The words tickled Boar’s ego, but still made him uncomfortable. “I wish I didn’t have to kill a poor bear. She’d clearly been through a lot, not in the best shape. It was awful.”