Games

10

There were three distinct expressions on Oliver's face when he stepped into the bathroom, and they all happened so suddenly I was surprised I had caught them.

The first was confusion, which I understood. He knocks on a door to a bathroom with the intention of using it, and instead he gets me yelling for help. The second was realization of what he'd just walked in on. And the third was anger. Complete, rage-filled hate filled his eyes, and in one swift movement he grabbed the back of Jesse's shirt in both of his fists and practically tore him off of me, flipping positions so that it was Jessie's back pressed against the door of the bathroom. Oliver's hands balled into the fabric of his shirt; I could practically hear him seething through his teeth.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Oliver growled, shoving his fists into Jesse's chest when he swore. "Huh?" He did it again. Jesse rose his hands in defense, a faint smirk still hinted on his face. I knew he wasn't taking this as seriously as Oliver was.

"I was just having some fun mate, calm down," Jesse said, eyes wandering to me. I looked away quickly, body shaking from what just happened and was continuing to happen in front of me. I stayed pressed against the glass door, watching the scene in front of me unfold.

"Just having some fun?" Oliver questioned, "You're fucking sick. He didn't look like he was having too much fun did he?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because he's mine!" Oliver shouted, shoving Jesse's body into the door before backing up and grabbing me roughly.

"What are you doing?" I said quietly, trying to shove him away when he lifted up my shirt, revealing the bruises from earlier he'd left on my hips.

"Those are my fucking marks," Oliver explained, pulling my shirt back down and standing in front of Jesse once more. I stumbled to the side as he left, fixing the hem of my shirt in a daze. What the hell was going on? Since when was Oliver so possessive? "Those are proof that I've been fucking him, better you and your pathetic excuse for a cock could ever fuck anyone. So before you try even looking at him again, I suggest you get the fuck out of my face."

"Or what?" Jesse laughed, still not backing down. I guess that was a mistake, because the next thing I knew Oliver's fist was behind his head, lunging forward and colliding with the left side of Jesse's jaw. I stared at Oliver, open-mouthed and in shock. Had he really just - he did.

Jessie's head swung to the side and he reached a steady hand up to prod at his lip, assessing the damage, which was just a small cut on his lower lip.

"Are you going to fight back or are you going to stand there like a twat?" Oliver asked, taking a step forward and getting not even an inch away from Jesse's face.

"He's all yours," Jesse said, reaching behind himself and fumbling with the door handle before getting a set hold and opening the door.

"Not so fast," Oliver said, turning to take my hand in his and tugging me past the other male, back into the hallway. As we passed, Jesse whispered something I couldn't hear into Oliver's ear that set him off. The next thing I knew, Oliver's tight grip left my own and he had spun around again, teeth gritted together as he shoved Jesse backwards into the bathroom, so hard that his back forced the door to the side and he fell to the floor, Oliver landing on top of him. Hit after hit, Oliver's fist collided with Jesse's face, showing absolutely no remorse for what he was doing. I stood by and watched in shock, unsure of what to do. Whatever Jesse said must have been absolutely horrible, because Oliver just wasn't letting up.

"I-I'm sorry," Jesse choked out between blows, trying to raise his hands to his face in defense.

"Yeah you're fucking sorry now you worthless bastard," Oliver spat, his fist quickly becoming covered with blood, smearing it across Jesse's face. I couldn't just watch this anymore. I had to do something. No matter what Jesse had tried to do with me I couldn't stand to watch Oliver hurt him like this.