Silent

49. Wolves

Jean filled his glass; he could feel himself trembling and hoped the other men wouldn't pay attention to it. He gritted his teeth hearing Michael's desperate, pained cries from the next room, and wanted nothing more than to escape the sound but couldn't.

Every cry stabbed his insides and made him painfully regretful of that drunken decision to contact Ricky. This wasn't how he had pictured things going in his alcohol-clouded mind, he hadn't imagined it would be this bad. Jean had only wanted the chance to play the hero once more to make Michael see, to make him understand that... They belonged together.

The other men in the room were not affected by the cries in the same way as he was. There was sickening laughter, a sickening glint in their eyes, eager to have their turn. Hungry wolves waiting for their chance to take part in the feast.

Jean had no choice but to sit there, forcing himself to grin and raise his glass when meeting the gazes of the other wolves. He was part of it, he was one of them, reluctant but the one who set this nightmare in motion. He hadn't thought Ricky would include this many men and he had to admit that the situation wasn't looking good. At least two men had a gun hanging on their belts.

That disbelieving pained gaze from Michael, when he had realized that he was a part of this, haunted his awareness now. It intervened with the sickening memories of the night that Sebastian met his end ten years prior. It brought back some of the details he had previously managed to block from his consciousness. This really could be the end for them both.

Eventually, Michael's cries subsided, and the silence felt equally terrifying if not even more so. The door to the room opened, and Ricky stood in the doorway in his underwear.

"Jean," he smiled. "Your turn," he said and Jean knew that this was a test, one that he was terrified of failing.

Yet, he was the one who had brought this on them and it was now his duty to pass. No matter how unpleasant, his and Michaels's survival depended on this. So he forced a smile and nodded, emptied his glass, and set it down on the table beside him before getting up. 

 He had to reconnect with his anger and rage. He focused his thoughts on Michael's betrayal, and how he had come and collected his belongings with Sam. He thought about how long they had been flirting behind his back. He had to gather the anger and bitterness to do what Ricky expected him to do. There could be no tenderness nor affection, no remorse to be seen.

Jean stepped into the room. Michael, who had been half over the bed, moved painfully to his knees onto the floor and tried to get up to his feet. The younger man looked back at him, tearful eyes filled with pain, that ached Jean's heart. His cheek was red, his upper lip cracked, and Jean gritted his teeth forcing the pain and remorse away once more.

"Don't go anywhere yet," he spoke in a tight tone, that sounded like a stranger's voice in his ears.

He came behind Michael, grasped him harshly, and forced him back against the bed. The situation didn't arouse him, he felt terrible. Ricky was there watching, paying attention to every detail. He had to do this, or all hope would be gone for them both.

Jean silenced his emotions, those that didn't want to hurt Michael this way under Ricky's watchful eyes. He imagined them alone in that room and tried to push the blame on Michael's shoulders, he needed that anger. There was no room for tenderness, he reminded himself once more.

He slapped Michael's buttocks and the younger man whimpered beneath him. He opened his pants, grinding against the unwilling body to make himself hard. Michael struggled, but his struggle was weak, mostly he just cried. Desperately, exhausted, knowing he was already defeated.