Page 29 of Knox

Roman sags, exhausted. I catch him, holding him around his waist as my softening dick slips free. My own release drips out and joins the mess already on the floor. We sink down, and I shift so we don’t end up sitting in the mess. As he looks up at me from his seat on my knees, he laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You haven’t even taken your sweats off.”

“You wanted it too quickly.”

“I’ve found someone to take my room at the house,” Roman says as we chop up chicken and veg to make a curry. “I can move out this weekend.”

“Really? That’s great. I’ll see if I can borrow Saint’s truck. It will be quicker that way. It does mean it will be on Sunday, but we can sort the smaller stuff on Saturday after work. Have you got boxes?” It’s been a couple of weeks since I asked, and his roommate wasn’t going to let him out until he had someone to take his place. I was really pissed off with her and ready to storm around there and tell her to fuck off and find a new one herself but Roman wouldn’t let me. Probably for the best, it wouldn’t be good for business.

“I’ve got boxes, and I’ve got you for the muscles.” He goes up on tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Get cooking.” He nudges me. “I’m starving.”

By the time we sit down to eat, I’m starving, too, but there are still things to talk about. While I shovel in the curry, I give him the choice. “Do you still want me to tell you my story?”

He’s quiet for a moment and places his knife and fork down. “Not if you don’t want to tell it. It won’t make any difference to me. I’m not going anywhere.” He shrugs so nonchalantly.

“I’ll give you the short version then. I was in foster care for as long as I can remember; I don’t know much about my birth parents apart from them being drug addicts who chose that over me. I was sexually and physically abused by the men in the foster homes from seven years old. Dean was in foster care with me, and he would try to protect me.

“I was thirteen when the drunk, dirty old man came into my room, Dean stopped him; he had a knife from the kitchen.” I can still smell that man, but I shake my head, he has no right to be in my head. “We ran away that night, thinking it was safer on the street. That may be true, but it was cold and wet, and we spent a lot of time hungry. Dean would get some money and bring us something to eat. We lived off sandwiches, maybe the odd McDonalds if he had enough. It took me a while to work out how he was getting the money; he was blowing guys when they came out of the pubs or the clubs. One night, he hadn’t come back, so I thought I’d go and try it.”

I shudder at the memory. “I got some dirty guy coming out of a rough pub, the kind that men went to straight from work and spent the whole night drinking away their wages. Anyway, this guy couldn’t get hard, however much I tried. Brewer’s droop had taken any chance of getting it to work. He stumbled away, and after a little while, I left, but he was waiting for me. He wanted his fiver back and gave me a good kicking. After that, I met Robin at the police station, and he said I could stay with him. I told him to fuck off, that I wasn’t going to get raped by anyone else again. He insisted and said that he had another boy with him. It was Drake. That was the night I became Knox, and Ellis didn’t exist anymore.”

“So Maddox is Dean. You’re Ellis,” he says; getting the whole picture.

“Yep. Maddox is Dean; that’s the bit I don’t know about. Drake has theories, and I guess I’ll find out if any of them are true tomorrow.”

“Why Knox?”

That makes me chuckle. “It was something Dean said. We came from the school of hard knocks. I adopted it when the police asked me my name.”

“I’m sorry, Knox. No kid should ever be put through all of that. I hope he got what he deserved.”

“He went to prison. Robin had to deal with the social worker side; he was head of social workers, not the same place we came from, but it all had to be investigated; he couldn’t stay quiet knowing it was still going on. The crap social workers as well as the men I could remember.”

“Good.”

I’ve spent the whole day and last night, even in my damn dreams, back in DeVon’s flat. The smell of weed in my nose and back of my throat making me clear my throat and blow my nose all day. Whilst that’s annoying, the biggest and potentially dangerous part, is me actually telling my story.

Which is why I’m pacing the floor of my gorgeous new home, waiting for Drake to arrive. He knows what happened to me, and the name Pilkington had him chuckling. All I want to know is if I’ll get recalled and the protection halted; I’ve stayed away from anyone and anywhere connected to the gangs.

The doorbell rings, and even though I’m expecting this, I still jump like a scalded cat. I check through the peephole to confirm it’s Drake and yank the door open. “Come in.” I step out of the way, giving him room to step past me.

Drake gazes around the room; it’s still pretty barren. I’m hoping for more happy times ahead so I can have photographs displayed. “What can I do for you?” Yeah, as if he doesn’t know.

Straight to the point, no messing around. I’ll be as up front as he is. “I’m doing what you suggested and talking to Knox and Roman. I need to know if I’m in trouble for breaking the rules and for telling Knox and Roman all that went down. The last thing I need is trouble and Pilkington and Cole involved. Especially Cole, he was the one that looked after me when I left the rehab place. I liked him a lot.”

“It’s been a long time, and you’ve grown and matured. The plastic surgeon, according to Knox, has done a great job. I think you can give him a reasonable amount of information. Don’t mention any names from the organisation or the gangs. You’re best to stick to the truth, but not too much. Everything you did before you died is fine. And how you managed your amazing achievement without anyone knowing who you were. You were a nobody in the MMA world. I’d like to know that story too.”

“By bloody hard work and determination.” I scowl at him; how else did he think I managed it. “But, yeah, we can do that when I know if Knox is going to be happy with me being here.” My stress level is at its highest, and I let out a sigh as I close my eyes and push my fingers through the mohawk that’s gotten long enough to tie back.

When I open my eyes, Drake is studying me again. He’s really got this whole silent interrogation vibe to perfection. “You want him, or more likely, you want them both. That’s what this is about. Or it’s become this since you saw them at Bound. Did you love him when you were kids?” Is he judging me?

I straighten my spine at his accusatory tone. “I’ve loved him for most of my life. He was a brother, a little brother, I had to protect. Look, I’m not getting into this with you. The only person who deserves my honesty, my truth, is Knox.”

His hands come up. “Okay, I get it. Have I answered all your questions?”

“I’m sorry. I’m worked up about seeing him, them, tonight. Yes, you have and thank you.” I hold out my hand, and he takes it; his grip is firm, but he’s not turning it into a battle of whose shake is the strongest.