Drake’s shoulders dropped. “Your famous sense of humor is on fire today. Tell me more,” he said, parking his ass in the chair. The liquor was mercifully taking effect and numbing his fears.
“I gotta get my kicks somewhere. Ben’s a total homophobe, so I don’t get to relax much around him. It’s been… tough, but I’m working my way up. Apollo’s preparing for some crazy death match, and he’s been talking about a ‘Colosseum of Blood’. I’m gonna get my first assignment around him next week, so let’s just hope no one wants a smell of my girlfriend’s bra.”
“The lovejuice is in the padding of the left cup so they better settle on jerking off with it on their face, not biting in.” Drake leaned back, letting the warmth of the liquor release painful knots from his shoulders. He didn’t want to ask whether Tank had been asked to do some terrible thing to prove his loyalty. He didn’t want to hear the answer, if it was yes.
Tank leaned back in his chair and poured himself more whiskey. “Have you ever been with a woman?”
Drake crossed his arms. Where was this question even coming from? “Eight years on, you finally found the courage to ask me that?”
Tank snorted. “The bra made me think about it. You don’t have to say. It’s just nice to talk to someone honestly. I hate the acting, I’d be a terrible undercover guy in the long run. I can do it, but it’s annoying. And half of my job is just waiting for shit.”
“But are you safe? What do you actually do?” Drake asked, still pondering how to answer Tank’s question.
“Wait. I’ll show you something. It’s like a cult in there.” He got up, turned around and pulled his top off, for a second leaving Drake speechless. Had their interactions always been this sexually charged, or was it all now happening in Drake’s head?
Drake was left speechless staring at the broad back, but voice died in his throat when he spotted Apollo’s brand, still fresh, on Tank’s shoulder.
The room was dim, so Tank moved closer to the yellow lamp. “Do you see it? Hurt like a motherfucker.”
Drake rose and approached him, hand lifted to hover around the burn. His throat felt so tight he could barely force words out. That brand was the symbol of the darkest times of his life, and now Tank had it too. Forever. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way to ensure Clover’s safety.”
Tank turned around. “It’s not just for Clover. It’s about you as well.”
Drake bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the melting feeling in his stomach. “Well, it’s awful either way.”
“It’s okay, Drake. I knew going in that shit was gonna happen. I need to show dedication. It will all be over soon anyway.”
“How bad is it? You didn’t answer. Are you safe?” Drake insisted, briefly swiping his gaze across Tank’s muscular chest.
Tank groaned and grabbed the cup. “Of course it’s not safe. But I haven’t been murdering babies, so overall, it’s manageable.”
Drake wondered if Tank had seen people huddled up in cells or shipped off like he had been, but that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. “Yes. I have slept with a woman. Once. You?” he asked, choosing to change the topic as fast as humanly possible. The awkwardness of it all was killing him.
Tank raised his eyebrows. “No. I almost did. There was this really pretty woman at a bar close to my military base, and she was hitting on me so hard, I was flattered, she promised no strings and all that. I thought I’d just give it a try, but nah, chickened out in the end. Not for me.”
Drake smirked and looked at their feet so close together. “Yeah. Not mine either. Awkward. But safe.”
Tank nudged Drake’s shoulder. “I don’t know about safe. At least I’m never gonna put a bun in Clover’s oven.”
Drake gave a chuckle that sounded nervous even to him. Fear had been what had motivated him to his one and only experiment with straight sex. Since his mother had sold him, his longer interactions had been almost exclusively with men. By the time he’d progressed to being an assassin-in-training, he’d had nothing to fear from women, or so it had seemed, so he’d hooked up with a girl he’d met in a nightclub, in the hope that maybe it would work for him and make his confusing relationship with sex slightly easier. But it wasn’t to be.
“I’m sure he appreciates it,” Drake said, crossing his arms when Tank stood a bit too close.
“So… you and Clover straightened things up between you two? Or should I say you gayed them up?”
The alcohol had definitely untied the sack of corny jokes Tank held in his head. If Drake were to stoop to Tank’s level, he’d have called them out as Daddy jokes.