The jarring slam of the door caused Paul to flinch, a hiss of pain escaping him as a result of the tightening of his abs. He allowed himself a few steadying breaths before he dropped his head onto the back of the couch, the grimace on his face one of a mixture of pains. But he knew Jacob would come back. For whatever reason, he knew Jacob wouldn't leave him.
He remembered the first time he saw Jacob, the way the younger man had been completely enraptured by the troublesome vixen that was Emma Hill. For the first time in his life he'd felt a pull towards another guy. He wasn't sure what it had been. Maybe it was the way Jacob's demeanor practically screamed vulnerability, a characteristic that had always been the mark of his prey in the past. But he didn't want to watch the life drain from Jacob's eyes, and not just because they were both a part of a very exclusive alliance.
The darkness that lurked beneath the surface of Jacob Well's mind was something to be explored and savored, not snuffed before it had come to the surface. He was a young man getting to know himself, and when they'd been given the task of posing as a couple to watching sweet, scarred Sarah, he had found himself honored with the opportunity to help peel away those layers.
When Paul's patient but persistent exploring had been rewarded with honesty and intimacy, he counted it as one of the most precious things in his life, second only to Joe looking at him through the fingerprint smudged glass as if he mattered; that moment of arriving at a place he had searched for while whole life but wasn't sure existed.
And now all of these days, months, years, and experiences later, and it had become tainted with blood; and not in a desirable fashion.
He had never been too concerned with labels, a lesson he'd tried to surreptitiously sink through Jacob's skin, although they'd never been relevant to his life until he met the blue eyed tempter. Romance, to him, had been a means to an end since his teenage years. Whether it was for pure manipulations purpose to gain what was needed, or to satisfy his inexplicable craving for blood payment, the mark was always female.
Yet he found himself seamlessly sinking into the character of Billy Thomas. Maybe that was when the lines blurred; and yet. After that first kiss during 'gay chicken', that initial exposure to soft lips and seemingly innocent breath, it had been so simple. Sensible. Sometimes he even thought it was pure. He as Billy and Jacob as Will; they were in love and flawed but perfect together.
The day Jacob had admitted to him that he had never killed before was the day he described to Jacob, in excruciating detail, every single one of his kills. Not just the acts, but the stream of conscious that he had gone through in those moments. It had been the night Jacob had first allowed him to touch him beyond his face and chest. They'd both been so aroused there hadn't been time for any discussion or request for permission. Hands had sought and found and caressed until their demons were momentarily satiated.
When he found himself growing hard he knew it was time to cool down since Jacob could arrive back at any given moment and who knew what state of mind the young man would be in. Probably not one that would happily process Paul, hard and wanting, dazed out on the couch.
After a few more soothing breaths Paul reached for the lamp and pulled the drawstring. He hoped with all that was inside of him (good, bad, hideous and wretched) that Jacob would be back soon, if only to let Paul soothe the monsters that he was so good at taming. But a bit of reverse psychology was always necessary with a man so set on defining everything as black and white, good or bad.
Gay or straight.
Who the fuck even cared anymore?
Hadn't they delved into an underworld seedier than any hetero or homosexual without malicious intent could ever imagine? Because while Paul knew that what they were creating was more classically beautiful than "Starry Night", their artistry came at an ultimate price paid by others, and possibly even they themselves.
Paul turned his mind away from this, as he often did, and allowed himself to remember the night that Jacob&Paul and Jacob&Emma became Paul&Jacob&Emma. How Jacob had allowed himself to be touched in completely new ways, how he'd touched Emma in ways he had literally never imagined himself touching a woman again, especially not that woman. How they'd all reached the culmination of their pleasure with blood still beneath two of their fingernails.
This somehow managed to soothe his libido, though it wasn't easing the pain in his gut that, still, had little to do with his sustained injuries from that prick Hardy.
What they'd shared that night, the three of them, had had as much to do with sex as it had to do with love. It was carnal pleasure at its finest, but now that he sees it, it was also a manipulation of Emma. She probably knew that the two men sharing with her what they'd so preciously kept to themselves would pollute it almost to the point of no return.
Now he just had to figure out how to wipe off the blemish she left on not only he and Jacob's connection, but he'd have to help his boy get over the abandonment that heinous bitch had subjected them to.
As his eyes drifted shut, he wondered if maybe the doctor had slipped him something strong than ibuprofen, or if the rollercoaster ride he'd been on since abducting Sarah had finally reached a coast and his body was taking advantage of the respite.
For he knew that after the arrival of and examination by Doctor Tarr there would be yet another upheaval.
How could there not be?
They were Followers of Joe Carroll. And Joe Carroll always had something up his sleeve.