The Corruption of Colt Jackson Ch. 14

Chapter Fourteen

Colt is lying in bed watching Marc get ready for work. It's been over two weeks since he's actively looked for a job. It's getting easier to just exist in this house. It's getting easier to make all of his decisions around Marc's schedule and what Marc wants him to do. The only things he gets out of the house for are Drunk Wizard gigs and practices, grocery shopping and beer and alcohol runs.

Marc sits on the edge of the bed beside him to pull on and lace his boots. "I'll be home for dinner tonight, Vanilla. Make me something good."

"I will." Colt's taken to trying new recipes that he gets from online. It's fun, cooking new things. If Marc doesn't like what he cooks they order take out.

Colt reaches out to tickle his fingers at the small of Marc's back over his shirt. "I have an idea... but I might need your help with it."

"Yeah? Tell me your idea."

Colt steels himself, letting go of his pride because of what he's about to do. "I'm thinkin' about trying to be a bartender, but the classes cost money... not as much as like schooling for music or whatever, but still, it's more money than I have and you said I could spend some of your money on me."

He hates having to ask Marc for money. His remaining funds since he's lost his job have dwindled though, barely replenished by gigs with the band.

Marc seems to consider for a moment, reaching out to brush his knuckles over the scruff at Colt's cheek. In the end, he draws a deep breath and shakes his head. "No, Colt. That's not what I meant when I wanted you to spend my money. I meant clothes and books and whatever... stuff you want. Like I said, go get a new violin."

"But-"

"Look, I like that you wanna use the money finally. That's good. But bar tending?" Marc smirks and shakes his head. "Do you know how many people I'd have to kill for flirting with you? I already have to fight it when you're on stage and everyone's looking at you."

Colt is amused and shakes his head. It's hard to tell if Marc would actually kill anyone or if he's joking. "You wouldn't."

"It's asking for trouble." Marc leans down to kiss at Colt's lips and Colt kisses him in return. "The answer's no. Alright? Keep asking me for things though. I wanna say yes when you ask for things."

Colt stares up at Marc for a moment, an explanation of why his trying to do something productive outside of this house a good idea on his lips. He swallows the words down though. Maybe Marc is right. It's asking for trouble. "Alright."

Marc looks pleased with him and that makes Colt smile. "You could stay home today."

That crooked grin makes an appearance and Marc almost laughs. "I could. But I'm going in anyway. How about you do something for me today?"

"What's that?"

"Don't wear any clothes." Marc says, standing up and pulling the sheets with him until Colt is lying there in just his boxer briefs. "I wanna see you naked, all day."

"Is your imagination that good?"

Marc grins again and pulls at Colt's briefs. Colt lets him take them off and lays in their bed naked.

"I don't care what you're doing today, Vanilla. Laundry, dishes, cooking, reading... whatever. No clothes. Yeah?"

Colt looks up at Marc for a long, drawn-out minute before nodding. "No clothes."

"All day."

"All day." Colt agrees as Marc pulls him up from the bed and into an embrace. It feels strange to be naked while Marc is fully dressed. Marc's kisses ease some of that discomfort though.

When Marc leaves, Colt stands naked and alone in the living room. He thinks about all the ways that Marc must be right about his whole bar tending idea. It was a stupid whim, really. Colt definitely doesn't want to invite more trouble in than they already have.

There's a few times when Colt thinks about putting his cut off sweat shorts on after Marc leaves. How would he know as long as Colt takes them off again when Marc is getting home?

He reads a lot. He looks online for more recipes and makes up a grocery list for the next week. He naps and watches TV. Laundry gets done. Every time he thinks about why he's naked, because Marc wants him this way, he's aroused. He's turned on a lot during the day.

Eventually, it's time to cook dinner and Colt has been naked all day.

Colt is rewarded with an amazing blow job when the other man gets home. Marc is always so good at it. Colt still feels like he's fumbling around when he returns the favor. Marc assures him that he's good at it too.

Dinner is cold by the time they get to it, but Marc still tells Colt it's great. Although he wouldn't say it out loud just yet, sometimes Colt thinks this has to be what love is. At a minimum, this version of love is far better than the version he grew up with.

**

It's a Saturday and Marc has been on another job for his uncle for two days now and he doesn't expect him back for another few days. Last night he played a show with the band and he knows he saw some of Rodrigo's men there this time. He imagines Marc asked them to look after him and that's kind of sweet, really.

Colt is outside playing ball with Emmitt when he hears the rumble of Marc's car. Marc is back already.

He's smiling when he enters the house looking for Marc. He finds Marc in their bedroom, digging things out from under the bed.

"Hey, babe. You're back early."

"Yeah, there was a bag under this bed. Where is it?"

Colt shakes his head. "I didn't move any bags."

"Colt." Marc stands up. "You cannot fuck around with this shit. Where's the bag?"

Colt takes a step backward. "I told you, I didn't move any bags. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You didn't? You're sure of that? Like when you were vacuuming or something?" Marc is stepping closer and closer to him and Colt is stepping back until his back hits a wall because he doesn't like how frightening Marc suddenly looks.

Colt goes to that place in his mind where he isn't really listening to or actively present in what's going on around him. He vaguely hears Marc speaking to him. Marc sounds frustrated with him.

Marc pats Colt's cheek harder than necessary like he's trying to wake him up or jog his memory. Colt snaps back into the present situation.

"I need you to think, baby. Think." Both of Marc's palms rest against the wall on either side of Colt's head. "There was a black bag under the bed..."

"Marc, I didn't touch a bag. You know I try to ignore that stuff."

Colt flinches when Marc punches the wall beside his head, cracking the drywall. "Stop, Marc. Did you look under my side of the bed? Did you look in the closet?"

Marc pushes away to look under Colt's side of the bed and Colt goes to the closet to look for a black bag. He's never wished so hard for a bag of what he knows are illegal drugs to suddenly appear. His stomach flip-flops with nerves when he comes up empty handed.

As he's turning to tell Marc that it's not here, a fist slams into his face so hard that he sees stars. Then he's pushed so that his back hits the wall and he slides down it, holding onto his nose as it gushes blood.

"This isn't a game, you fucking idiot! Think! Think about where you could've put it!"

Colt looks up at Marc in shock, blood dripping onto his hand and from his hand to his shirt and the carpet. "Get out." He says quietly.

"Find the fucking bag, Colt. I know-"

This time Colt cuts him off by yelling. "I said get out!"

He pushes up to his feet and shoves at Marc's shoulder with his free hand. "Get out!" His face is bloody. He tastes blood on his lips. He grabs a hand towel from the bathroom and puts it to his nose.

"You can't kick me out."

"Yes, I can." Colt says, crying and not sure when he'd started adding angry, terrified tears to the mixed up mess he currently is. "Get the fuck out, Marc! Call me when you calm the fuck down."

He's pushed Marc into the living room and is trying to get him out of the door. Colt pushes against him again, making him move closer to the door and when Marc looks at him now, his fury is giving way to fear.

"You can't quit me."

"I don't know if I can quit you but right now I can kick you the fuck out until you calm down." Colt points at the door, still holding the towel to his nose. "I want you to leave. I need you to leave. Now."

"Vanilla..."

"Go find your fucking bag, Marc!" Colt says. "And stop blaming me for shit I didn't do!"

Marc slowly backs up to the door and finally leaves.

Only once Colt has heard the roar of his engine driving away does Colt fully breathe. He's shaking. He's so unnerved by what just happened that he's shaking.

He can't believe he stood up to Marc like that. And now that Marc is gone, a cold terror starts to sink in.

His movements are almost robotic as he fills a ziplock bag with ice, holds it to his nose and sits on the couch, tilting his head back to stop the blood flow. It's been a long time since he's had to do this, but he's done it before, too many times.

What if Marc doesn't calm down? What if Marc comes back and hits him again? What if Marc doesn't come back once he's calmed down? What if he loses Marc?

The prospect of these things seem so wrong to him. Does a world exist where Marc Fiarri isn't in his life anymore? Colt has a hard time picturing it.

**

Marc: Why won't you answer your phone? I wanna apologize. Let me apologize.

Marc: You're not even gonna text me back?

Marc: Fuck this and fuck you, Colt.

Marc: I didn't mean that. I just wanna apologize.

**

Marc: Say something to me. Anything. You can be mad at me, just say something.

Marc: I know I fucked up.

Marc: I'm trying to respect that you need space from me right now, but it's been two days. I need to see you.

Marc: Baby, please...

**

There's a knock at the door and Colt stands on the other side of it in the living room, half drunk whiskey bottle in one hand. He'd heard Marc's car pull up out front. He isn't ready to see him yet. So far, Marc has respected that. It's probably the first time he's let Colt say no, which means he knows that he was in the wrong and he really messed up this time.

Tonight Marc is at the door wanting in. Colt wants to let him in. He isn't ready though.

"Colt, I know you're in there." Marc says through the door. "Just let me in and we can talk."

Marc wants to talk now? That just frustrates Colt even more.

Still, a part of him wants to let Marc in. His aching face is a reminder that he needs more time.

"Come on, Vanilla. I just wanna talk."

Colt watches the door until the shadow of Marc walks away, until he can hear the engine of his shiny blue sports car, until he can't hear it anymore. He exhales a heavy, relieved breath and takes another drink from the whiskey bottle he's nursing.

**

Marc: I miss you. Please talk to me.

Marc: Shit is insane out here. I just wanna come home.

Marc: I'm in big trouble, Vanilla. I need you to keep me steady.

Marc: I love you.

Colt: I think we need some time and space.

Colt isn't sure why Marc's profession of love is what finally makes him say something back, but it is. All he can think of is his dad telling his mom he loves her and then turning around and beating her into the emergency room.

Love is toxic. Whatever this is with Marc, love or not, it's toxic.

He still wants Marc.

He shouldn't want Marc.

Marc: No, you've had three days. I've given you three days, Colt. Forgive me.

Marc: Don't go quiet on me again, Vanilla. Please.

Marc: I need you.

Colt sets his phone aside. He puts the joint to his lips and continues to try to numb everything, physically and emotionally.

**

The music filling the house is sad and haunting, fitting for Colt's mood. Five days since Colt kicked Marc out. He's in the living room playing his violin when he hears the engine of Marc's car again. He closes his eyes and continues to play as he hears the car door slam shut. He continues to play as he hears a knock at the door. He continues to play when he hears a key in the lock. He only stops when he knows Marc is standing just inside the front door in the living room.

There's an ugly purple and blue bruise around his nose and as he turns to look at Marc, the other man's features fall and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry." Marc whispers another apology.

Colt didn't let Marc in for more apologies. His curiosity has gotten the better of him. "Did you find your bag?"

"No. I'm in trouble." Marc answers. "It was stolen from here, the night I was gone and you were out playing with your band."

Colt arches a brow. Stolen from here, from his house? "Someone got in our house?"

"Yeah."

Well that's worrisome. Thankfully, Colt is just a little bit drunk so his concern doesn't overwhelm him completely. Drinking Marc's whiskey had made him feel like Marc was still here. Smoking Marc's weed had made him feel like Marc was still here. Both have also helped to numb a lot of what he was feeling.

What a poor substitute they've been for the real Marc now that the man is standing in front of him.

"How do you know? How do you know someone got in?" There's been no signs of a break-in that Colt has seen.

Marc shifts his weight from one foot to the other as if preparing for something. Then he points to the top of ceiling above one of the bookshelves. "Cameras. One there. One in the bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen."

Colt stares at him, stunned. "You've been recordin-"

"I've been watching you. I like watching you when I'm not here. I like knowing you're okay and seeing what you're doing and just... seeing you."

"Marc... really?" Colt thinks he should have known. Maybe deep down, on some level, he did know. Maybe this is all his fault for ignoring things he shouldn't ignore. He hates how he's so quick to take the blame for things.

"I usually just watch you real-time, unless I wanna relive something with you. After the night I..." He gestures at Colt's general vicinity, at his bruised face. "...did that. I watched the video of the nights before... the bag was stolen."

"Do you know by who?"

"Yeah." He nods. "My uncle's pissed. I'm in trouble. He has to decide how he wants to handle it. There's definitely gonna be retaliation. I'm gonna have to make it right, somehow. I wanna make this right first... you and me. I need you, Colt."

"You hit me."

"I was scared and angry. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I'm not gonna be my mom."

"I know. You're not her."

"I don't wanna be her and just take it."

"I know, baby. You're nothing like your mom. You're stronger than her."

"Am I?" He doesn't feel like he's stronger than her right now.

Marc moves closer to him and Colt's grip tightens on the neck of his violin. "Wait."

Marc stops and Colt draws in a deep breath, surprised that Marc stopped when he told him to wait.

Is he ready for this? Is this the only chance he has for an out from Marc Fiarri? As he feels himself wanting to give in to Marc, he definitely feels every bit as weak as his mom is where his dad's concerned. He doesn't want to be her. He won't be his mom.

Colt sets his violin down and Marc takes that as an invitation to close the gap between them. Marc's hands cup either side of Colt's face and he leans in to kiss him. Colt doesn't kiss him back at first, still trying to think through everything.

Marc has been videoing him for God knows how long, and that's going to take a bit to truly sink in. Marc has a temper that can sometimes lend itself to violence. Marc is deep into a criminal enterprise. Marc is in trouble with said criminal enterprise.

"Kiss me." Marc whispers against Colt's lips. "Please kiss me, Vanilla. Be mine."

Thinking about telling Marc no again now that the other man is so close again, now that Colt can reach out and touch him, his fingertips landing gently against his chest, thinking about making Marc leave again, it almost physically hurts him even more than a punch to the face. In spite of everything, he's missed him so damn much.

Can someone be addicted to another person as well as they can be addicted to other things? Can that addiction destroy them just as those other addictions can? Does Colt care anymore?

Colt makes a decision then, a decision to try again. He kisses Marc Fiarri.