Chapter Text
Rory had known for a while that he was in the wrong line of work.
When he’d gotten a job in London, he’d been too attracted by the location and the offered salary that he really didn’t pay attention to the red flags. He’d just packed up, gotten on a plane from New York to London, and didn’t look back. Of course, once he got there, it was far too late to change his mind. Once he uprooted his life, he couldn’t really go back.
What he ended up doing was glorified IT for a company that, it didn’t take him long to figure out, had more than a few less than savory clients. Crooked politicians, extortion, drug smuggling. Worse. By the time he figured out the kinds of people he was going to be working for here, he knew that he couldn’t very well back out without some serious consequences. They’d made him sign an NDA, and his contract was filled with so much legal mumbo-jumbo that it almost made his head spin when he tried to look into maybe quitting.
However, once he got a better idea of the kinds of people he was doing cyber security for, and the kinds of secrets they were peddling, he knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to just walk away. He needed to keep his head down, play along, and be smart about it before he decided to leave. He didn’t want to end up being dumped in a river somewhere with three bullets in his head.
It didn’t take long after that before he got far more involved in his employers’ business than he’d wanted to be.
He was woken up in the dead of night by his phone bleating at him in desperation. Rory woke up with a start and slapped around for his phone before his clumsy fingers managed to answer the call. His coworker’s frantic voice was on the line telling him that there had been some sort of hack, that the servers were down, all their clients’ information was maybe compromised, and everyone was freaking out, so he needed to get his ass down there in person and fix it now.
All his coworkers had been roused out of bed and sent to all corners of the city, and Rory was given an address and told to hurry over there as quickly as possible.
Right before he hung up, his coworker paused, a note of caution seeping into his voice. “Oh, and Rory… This guy, he’s a little… That is to say… Just, don’t do anything stupid.”
Rory didn’t even get a chance to ask what that meant before he was gone.
Rory stumbled out of bed, pulled some clothes on, and grabbed his things before heading out of his very nice and very empty apartment. His job was high on material perks, but he couldn’t say his social life was exactly thriving since his move here. He’d barely met anyone.
He took the underground and arrived at his address about forty-five minutes later. He was a little intimidated by the sheer class of the buildings around him. This was where the really rich people lived.
He was interrogated for a while by the guard at the gate who didn’t seem to want to let him in, but after arguing and explaining what he was doing here about three times, Rory was finally let in. A second guard met him just inside and escorted him inside the huge house and up several successive flights to what had to be a home office.
The first two floors of the house seemed to be domestic, but this third floor was for business, and Rory couldn’t help peeking into one of the meeting rooms as they walked by. There were a group of distressed, flustered looking businesspeople in suits all arguing. Probably about the problem that Rory himself was going to fix.
Thankfully, once he was shown the bank of computers, the guard left him alone, and Rory got to work, setting up his things and working quickly, calling into the office to get updates a few times. It wasn’t as bad as they’d thought, and Rory got everything up and running within half an hour. Nothing to it.
When Rory was packing up, the door opened and a tall, aristocratic-looking man swept into the room like he owned the place. Which he probably did. Presumably this was his house. He had dark hair and a long, aquiline nose and the air of a man who always got what he wanted, through force or luck. One of the guards trailed him discreetly and took up a position by the door.
“They tell me everything’s been squared away then?” this man asked. Rory was surprised by his American accent. Another transplant like him.
Rory slid his laptop into his bag and nodded. “Sure is. It wasn’t quite as bad as it looked.” He couldn’t help yawning, and muffled it with the back of his hand. It was getting pretty late. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”
The man didn’t move to get out of his way. His worry seemed to have departed and now he was examining Rory with a sharp, assessing gaze. “It’s Rory, isn’t it?”
Rory was taken aback that this guy actually knew his name. “Um, that’s right, Mr…”
“Delacroix.” The man put out a hand to shake. “Martin Delacroix.”
Rory shook his hand automatically, just to be polite. Martin had an exceedingly strong grip, and he was still looking at Rory with an intensity that, he had to admit, was a little creepy.
Martin’s oddly pale eyes looked him up and down, assessing and dissecting and putting away that information for later use. “You know, you don’t strike me as a Rory. It doesn’t quite fit you for some reason.”
Rory forced a smile, although he thought this was getting a little weird. “Well, it’s the only name I’ve ever had. Sorry to disappoint.”
Martin held him there for one second longer before letting go. Rory hid his relief by stepping away and hauling his bag up over his shoulder.
“I suppose I’m in your debt then, Rory. I’ll have to think of a suitable reward for you,” Martin said thoughtfully.
What Rory thought but didn’t say was that a suitable reward would be getting out of this room immediately. He couldn’t explain why exactly, but something about this guy was making his skin crawl.
Martin smiled then. His teeth were very sharp, and there was a thin cruelty to his face that was making Rory’s lizard brain chant stay away stay away stay away.
“I know. I’m hosting a party this weekend. You’ll come.” Not an invitation. A statement.
Nothing sounded less appealing to Rory. “Oh no, that’s okay. I’m not a good party guest. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do,” Martin said. “I insist.”
There was no overt threat in this statement, but Rory didn’t miss the way that he was still blocking his way out of the room, and that the guard was still standing there with his arms crossed.
Rory faked a nonchalance he didn’t feel. He had a feeling that this was a man who didn’t often get told no. He remembered his coworker’s diffuse warning from before. “Okay, sure. Why not?”
Martin smiled again, and the tense mood instantly relaxed. “Excellent. I’ll make sure you get the details later.”
Rory wondered if maybe he’d been overreacting. It was late and he was tired and the shadows in this room were deep. Maybe that’s all it was.
Martin clapped his hand on his shoulder and then Rory was led out of the building and back outside. Rory pretended he didn’t feel relieved to taste fresh air again.
The next day, after sleeping in after his late night, he did a little bit of research on Martin Delacroix. Almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t. Many of the clients at his company were bad news, but Delacroix was Bad News. Capital B. Capital N. Rory saw enough to know he didn’t want to dig into this anymore. Also that he should stay as far away from the man as possible.
Unfortunately, he was required to go to this party. He figured Delacroix was not the kind of man to take rejection well.
So he put on the one nice suit jacket he owned and showed up, even though he’d rather be doing anything else. The house had entirely transformed from the first time he’d been there. It was lit up and impeccable, with rich people hanging off the rafters in every inch of space, laughing and arguing and posturing. Everyone there had the awful stink of money and privilege. Rory had never felt so out of place. He caught a few curious, condescending glances at his clothes and hair and the obvious fact that he didn’t have money coming out of his ass.
At least there was booze, he thought to himself as he sidled up against a wall and knocked back a few drinks to pass the time. He hadn’t seen Delacroix at all, and he was really hoping he could stay for a while longer and then make his escape. There was still plenty he could do with his night.
Unfortunately, after he put down his glass and started moving toward the door, one of the security guards sidled up beside him, grabbed his elbow, and muttered that Delacroix wanted him upstairs. Rory tried to make excuses, but the tight grip around his arm really didn’t leave any room for doubt.
The second floor was a little less boisterous, and it soon because obvious that this was where the real party was. The people up here had no need for posturing. They had everything, could get anything they wanted, and they knew it.
Rory was led into a drawing room where Martin Delacroix and a few others were standing around drinking, smoking, and talking.
Martin looked around when he came in, and his smile widened again, that shark-toothed thing that screamed danger. “Ah, there you are! I was just telling everyone here how you saved not only my ass but everyone else’s the other day. They have no idea what they owe you.”
The rest of Martin’s inner circle took in Rory with identical looks of cruel appraisal. Rory wondered nervously what exactly he’d helped cover up for all these people. Maybe he should have allowed them to get hacked. It might have been a good thing for the world at large.
Rory forced a polite smile. “Oh, it was nothing. I was just doing my job.”
Martin turned to the woman beside him. “See, Julia? He’s modest too. I like that.”
The woman he was leaning into was just as tall as he was, long, black hair, sharp eyebrows, and hands like claws. The way everyone in the room was arrayed around the pair proved that these two were the real power here. Everyone wanted an audience or their favor.
Julia raised an eyebrow. “Of course he is. He’s flattering you, Martin.”
Something seemed to pass between them, and Rory thought he’d better get in front of this conversation. Hopefully he could get his thank yous out of the way, and then leave. “I just wanted to thank you, Mr. Delacroix, for inviting me to this party. It’s very nice. I really appreciate the opportunity.”
Martin grinned. “Oh, anything for you, my boy.”
Rory felt deeply uncomfortable with that epithet and was about to start saying his goodbyes when one of the hangers-on in the corner, a man with gelled-back blonde hair and a sneer, spoke. “He doesn’t really look like an IT guy.”
“That is true,” Martin mused. “Most of them are just pasty and look like they haven’t seen the sun in years.”
Rory made himself laugh, although the way they were just talking about and over him was really starting to put him off. It was like he was a curiosity. “Yeah, well, they do let us out sometimes on good behavior.”
The woman, Julia, snorted a bit at this. “It’s his arms. They’re pretty well-formed.”
“That’s it,” the blonde man said. “Like he works out.”
To Rory’s consternation, Martin strode forward and actually put a hand around his left bicep, squeezing it slightly. “You certainly don’t see many of your sort lifting monitors over their heads to stay fit. You must be the exception.”
Rory had stiffened automatically when Martin grabbed him, and he couldn’t help but pull away, a little harder than he’d intended, but still. This was getting fucking weird.
After Rory had pulled out of Martin’s grip and stepped away, there was a brief moment when Martin’s expression tightened and Rory was worried that he’d actually angered the man. He tensed up, but then Martin’s face smoothed out and he smiled again like nothing happened. Rory couldn’t help but feel relieved. There was a strange energy in this room that he didn’t like at all.
“Regardless, you should enjoy the party. Enjoy the food. Enjoy the company. You’ve earned it,” Martin said with another smile. Rory really hoped he was imagining the tension that he was sure hadn’t been there before.
“Will do,” Rory said, already slowly inching toward the door.
The blonde man looked a little sour for some reason. “Say, Delacroix, please tell me you’ve got some entertainment at this party.”
He put an extra little emphasis on the word entertainment that Rory didn’t understand. Was he talking about music, maybe?
For some reason, both Delacroix and Julia glanced sharply over at the blonde man, almost in warning. He looked a little chastised.
“Not everyone here is in the inner circle, Kent,” Martin said, staring him down. “That would get messy.”
The blonde man, Kent, looked away and coughed awkwardly.
Julia broke the silence. “Well, Rory, Martin is quite enchanted with you, so I’ll distract him if you wanted to make your escape.”
Her words were playful, but her tone was anything but. Rory could tell that she was a cold woman through and through. He escaped from her flat, grey eyes.
He was incredibly relieved to be able to leave that room of vultures. The back of his neck was prickling, and every one of his instincts was telling him to sprint for the door.
The guards were still standing near the head of the stairs, so Rory opted for taking the back way. Less people he would run into. He was hoping to find a back door somewhere he could just slip out of. He’d made his appearance, and he didn’t see any need to stay any longer.
It was quiet back here, which was the only reason why he heard the crying. He couldn’t help but glance inside an otherwise-empty room to see a woman standing alone with her hand clamped over her mouth, trying desperately not to make noise. Her shoulders were shaking and tears coursing down her face.
Rory hesitated, but his good heart won out. He stepped into the room. “Hey, ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but are you okay?”
The woman glanced up at him, eyes narrow and distrustful. “Fine.”
She was obviously not interested in talking to him, so Rory was about to back up and leave the room when she took a closer look at him and her expression softened.
“I’m sorry. That was rude. I just thought you were… someone else.”
Rory would be willing to bet that she thought he was one of the security guys here. He could understand her reticence.
“Oh, I’m just the help,” Rory said, walking a little closer to her. “I had the misfortune to fix Martin Delacroix’s computer, and now he thinks we’re close personal friends or something. You caught me trying to escape down the back stairs.”
The woman’s face froze for a moment, and Rory realized how unwise it was to be badmouthing someone like Martin in a place like this. He had no idea who this woman was, or who she would talk to. Then she laughed, surprised and quick, and she covered her mouth with a hand like she was shocked at her own daring.
“Oh, I know a little something about that. The misfortune, that is,” she said. She hesitated a moment longer and then held her hand out. “I’m Anna.”
“Rory.”
They shook hands and took each other’s measure. Anna was tall and willowy, with straight blonde hair that went down to her shoulders and gray eyes. She was dressed like she belonged here, and her accent attested to the fact that she’d grown up right here in London. It was obvious that she came from money, but there wasn’t a hint of pretension or cruelty like so many of the other people in this party. Maybe Rory was just fooled by a pretty face, but there was just something about her that he liked.
“So can I ask what’s wrong? Anything I can fix? I’m very handy,” he grinned to put her at ease.
She smiled a little, but it was a sad one. “I’m afraid nothing you can fix, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Well, do you want to get out of here? You look as miserable as I feel. As you can hear from my voice, I’m just a dumb American, but I have been here long enough to know this good place around the corner, if you wanted a break?” Rory had a tendency of playing the big, dumb guy whenever he tried to flirt, but it had worked for him so far. Most girls seemed to find it charming.
Anna’s smile faded a bit, and she fiddled nervously with the hem of her dress. “I’d love to, really. That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid the problems I’m having are… the husband kind.”
Rory nodded. “Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. It doesn’t have to be a date, if you don’t want. You can just talk my ear off all evening. No expectations.”
That might have been a put-on coming from some guys, but Rory really did mean it. This sad woman in front of him really looked like she could use a friend. He didn’t want to just leave her here alone.
A flicker of apprehension went across Anna’s face. “I don’t think… that’s such a good idea,” she said. “My husband is… not the understanding type.”
Rory wondered if that had to do with the reason why she was alone at a party crying her eyes out. He wanted to ask more, but it was really none of his business, and in any case, they were interrupted by someone walking into the room.
Rory glanced over to see the blonde man from the other room walk in, looking suspicious. “Anna, honey, I’ve been looking all over for you.” His voice carried with it not a shred of warmth but plenty of warning.
Luckily, Anna and Rory were not standing close at all. Anna plastered a smile on her face that Rory could see wasn’t anywhere near genuine. “I was just taking a moment for myself, Kent. This fine man here was passing by, and I asked him if he could bring me some champagne.” She lifted the champagne flute in her hand as evidence, although she’d already had it when Rory got here.
The ease with which she lied was disconcerting almost, how quickly she could turn on a dime. To Rory’s relief, Kent accepted this excuse without a moment’s thought. It was almost like Rory didn’t even exist to him, which was the only way Anna got away with it.
Without even saying goodbye, Anna swept forward and took Kent’s arm with a smile. Ah. So this was the husband. Rory didn’t think he was imagining the way her expression and stance tightened once she was in this man’s orbit. They may be married, but not happily.
Once the rich couple was gone, Rory stole his way out of the house, eager to leave. Once he was halfway down the block, he glanced back at the brightly-lit house, his shoulders loosening, relieved to be away from those people. He was hoping he would never need to see Martin Delacroix again.
Of course, it didn’t work like that.
After he fixed the first problem, Martin seemed determined to seek out Rory’s technical expertise every time his computer so much as froze. He found himself ‘invited’ back with frequency, and Rory really didn’t have much choice but to accept. It got to the point where he didn’t really need to do any of his usual work, and he essentially transitioned into being Martin Delacroix’s permanent (and personal) IT department.
This necessitated a lot of visits to Martin’s house, sometimes at very strange hours. Martin always seemed happy to see him, like he didn’t even care about the computer issues and instead just wanted to chat with Rory. He always found some thin excuse to touch Rory, putting his hands on his shoulders or leaning over him to point something out on the computer, or some other such excuse. Rory wasn’t fooled, and was highly uncomfortable with all the attention, but didn’t know how he could possibly say anything unless it got really overt.
The only bright spot in all of this is that sometimes he would see Anna there. Her husband appeared to be quite involved in Martin’s business, and so the two of them would spend hours sequestered in Martin’s office, sometimes with other people, talking about whatever it was they were involved in. Rory didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. He tried not to eavesdrop very much. Staying ignorant seemed safer.
During these long meetings, Anna would usually sit in the parlor tapping away at her phone, or sometimes she would bring a book to read. She would smile when she saw Rory, although they didn’t talk much. Rory understood. It didn’t seem a good idea to get involved with a mobster’s wife. Or whatever Kent was. No matter how miserable Anna was, and how much Rory longed to get to know her.
One day, Rory arrived at Martin’s house, and on his way in, glanced inside the parlor. Anna and Kent were in there, having some low, heated discussion in the frenzied but still quiet way that only married couples seemed to be able to do. The thing that really caught Rory’s attention, though, was the tight grip Kent had around Anna’s wrist. He was squeezing it and leaning in close to her to make some point, using his height and superior strength against her.
Anna’s face was tight and furious. “Kent, you’re hurting me,” she hissed.
Rory only hesitated for a second. He knew what he was about to do was dangerous, but he couldn’t just stand aside and ignore domestic abuse. He opened the door and made his presence known. “I think you’d better let go of the lady. She said you’re hurting her.”
Anna and Kent both turned to Rory with identical expressions of shock on their faces. “Excuse me?” Kent said in haughty surprise, with the exact same tone as if he was saying Who the fuck do you think you are?
Anna took the opportunity to shake her arm free from Kent’s grip. “I’m fine, thank you. Just a minor spat, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?” Rory asked her, eyeing Kent and wondering if he would be able to take him. Maybe. The guy was a spoiled rich boy and probably hadn’t worked a day in his life.
She smiled politely, more of a grimace really, and he could tell from the way that she was widening her eyes at him she was telling him to back off. So he did, even though he really wanted to just deck this guy on sight. He hated men like Kent, the ones that preyed on those they perceived as weaker than them.
“It really has nothing to do with you,” Anna said coolly, although he was sure it was just for appearance’s sake. “Kent, we have that appointment to make. We’re late already.”
They swept out of the room, and Kent took the opportunity to shoulder-check Rory. Like they were in high school or something. It was so breathtakingly juvenile that Rory couldn’t believe it. It definitely told him something about the emotional maturity of this man. He didn’t understand how someone as self-possessed and intelligent as Anna had ended up with some guy like this.
He didn’t have long to wonder. When he was required to show up at another one of Martin’s parties, the two of them stole outside where nobody could see them and shared a cigarette. Rory didn’t really smoke, but it felt intimate, special somehow to share one.
Anna, her face grim and hands shaking slightly, told him about growing up with money, about her father and how involved he’d been in all of this, how Kent had been an upstart useful to her father, a ladder climber who was using a marriage to her as a way to cement his position in the criminal hierarchy. Kent wasn’t particularly intelligent or useful, so marrying into money was his only way in.
He’d known enough to put on the charm when he and Anna were courting, but once their union was legal, he’d shown his true colors. Their honeymoon period was over before their honeymoon began.
She said it wasn’t too bad, because he was largely uninterested in her. He mostly left her alone, and she preferred it that way, but that didn’t stop her from feeling trapped with a man she hated in a life that wasn’t her own and hadn’t been for a long time.
Rory hadn’t been able to resist. He took her hand, and she smiled at him and said that the only thing that made her days bearable recently was the possibility that she might see him, if only for a moment. Even if they didn’t talk, knowing he was there was a comfort.
It was inevitable, really. He leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed back. He had his hand on her hip, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, her free hand still clutching the forgotten cigarette, the loose smoke curling up and mingling into the starry sky above them.
She’d only allowed this for a few seconds before pulling back. “We can’t,” she whispered into his mouth, reluctantly pulling back.
Emboldened by the kiss and the illicit nature of what they were doing, Rory shook his head. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Her worried eyes said that wasn’t the problem. “It’s you I’m worried about. You don’t know these men like I do. I’m protected by my status and my father. They can’t do anything to me. If we were caught, though…”
“I can handle myself in a fight. I’m not afraid of them,” Rory said boldly, not even knowing if this was true. He was wary of them, most especially of the predatory Martin, he just felt the stupid urge to show off. He wasn’t the first one to fall prey to this instinct, and he wouldn’t be the last.
Anna smiled, a worried little thing. “That’s sweet, Rory. But you should be. This isn’t a game. We can’t do this. I like you, but we just… can’t.”
And that was that for another two weeks. Rory really didn’t think he was going to see her again, until she showed up at his apartment during a rainstorm, drenched to the bone, with her eyes feverish and bright, teeth bared in anger. Her expensive coat was ruined and her wet hair was bedraggled and plastered to her skull.
“The son of a bitch is cheating on me,” she spat as a greeting. “She came to the house today. He’s not even trying to hide it. Fuck him.” The cursing sounded shocking in her usually prim voice.
Rory felt angry on her behalf. “I’m sorry, Anna. Do you want to come in? Let me get you a towel.”
She came in, ranting and hissing invectives against Kent the whole way. When Rory returned holding a towel, she had stripped off her raincoat.
They stood there for a long moment, staring at each other. They both knew what they were doing here, they were just waiting for the other to make the first move.
Slowly, deliberately, Anna unbuttoned her drenched blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders to reveal her bare midriff and chest. He’d sort of expected her to be wearing a lacy, high-class bra, but her underthings were simple and practical. For some reason, that was more appealing.
Towel forgotten on the floor, they spent the pawing, desperate stumble to the bedroom tearing the clothes off each other, kissing and touching every inch of each other’s skin they could. They fell into bed, and Rory was kissing down the column of her throat, running his tongue around her nipples until they stood up hard with arousal. When he closed his mouth and sucked on one, she cried out and grabbed his back to pull him closer.
When he started to move farther down, intending on putting his mouth on her, she gasped and pulled him farther up. “No, no,” she gasped. “I want to kiss you more. Come here.”
He laughed and obliged her. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with just a hint of sarcasm.
They kissed for a while longer until Anna’s body had warmed up from the rain outside. Rory delighted in discovering what she liked, and tried to make her happy. This was always his favorite part of sleeping with someone new, was finding out what they liked and trying to give it to them. Too many men thought sex was nothing but shoving their cock into a warm hole. What was the point of sex then, if you weren’t going to engage with your partner on equal footing?
When they were both warm, Rory reached down and slipped his fingers inside her. She was wet already, and she gasped and pulled even closer to him. She reciprocated, wrapping her delicate fingers around his cock and bringing him off.
He came first, but tried to concentrate on Anna until she was curling her toes and collapsing onto the bed next to him, a loopy grin on her face. They were both drenched in sweat and sex, and so deliriously happy. Sure, it was the endorphins, but it was also the emotional connection, working to give the other what they wanted.
After they’d caught their breath, Anna rolled over and kissed him on the cheek. “Well. You have very talented fingers, I’ll give you that much.”
Rory laughed and held his right hand up so they could both look at it. His boxy fingers curled around hers. “I’m quite fond of them myself.”
“Yeah?” she laughed. “Think you’ll keep them?”
“Think so.”
They kissed again, but it didn’t take long before they fell asleep like that.
After that, it didn’t take much for it to become a regular thing. They would usually meet in Rory’s apartment, because it was safe. Anywhere else, they had to pretend they didn’t know each other. In Rory’s naivete, he could admit that made it all the more exciting.
Anna had warned him at the beginning that this wasn’t a game. He should have listened.
Even while Rory was getting to know Anna better, Martin’s strange obsession with him didn’t seem to be abating at all. If anything, it was getting worse.
One day, Rory was at Martin’s house again, setting up a new router with better bandwidth. It didn’t take long, and most of his mind was on getting down to the liquor store so he could find a good wine to have with Anna later.
He was so consumed in those thoughts, he didn’t hear someone come into the room. He turned around and startled when he saw Martin standing near the door, watching him with that dark, hungry look of his.
“So what do I have to do to convince you to come work for me full-time, Rory?” Martin asked with a lazy grin. “There are definitely perks. I can install you out in the carriage house out back. There’s plenty of room for you to run around. Then I can always have you on hand in case I need you for something.”
Rory forced himself to laugh. He still found Martin’s intensity a little much, but didn’t know what to do about it. “As great as that sounds, sir, I have my own apartment.”
Martin’s smile flickered wider a bit when he called him sir. Rory had just said it to be polite, but he told himself to avoid that in the future.
When Rory grabbed his bag and tried to walk out, Martin got between him and the door. Not in an overtly threatening way, but in a way that said You’re not leaving until I let you. Rory stopped in his tracks.
“Well, you have to let me give you something before you go,” Martin purred.
Rory’s heartbeat was starting to pick up. He hadn’t been alone with Martin before, not like this. There had always been someone else around, or at least an easy exit within sight. Not this time. Martin wanted something, and he wasn’t letting him go until he got it.
“N-not necessary. I’ll just get out of your hair,” Rory said carefully, trying to inch past Martin, like if he did it slowly enough, he wouldn’t be noticed.
Martin grabbed his arm and in less time than it took to take a breath in, he had him pressed against the wall. Rory gasped and tried to move, but Martin just pushed him back harder. His iron grip was tight around Rory’s elbows, keeping him in place.
“What are you doing?” Rory stammered. His mouth tasted like ashes.
“Oh, Rory…” Martin said lowly. “You’re not stupid. How long have we been dancing around this? I, for one, am tired of waiting.”
Rory broke Martin’s hold on him, but he wasn’t able to move away from the wall. “I don’t want –”
“See, the thing is, Rory, it doesn’t really matter to me what you want,” Martin said, running a finger down Rory’s chest over his shirt. “I’ve been waiting for you to offer yourself, but you seem set on remaining obtuse.”
Rory’s face twisted up in horrified disgust. “Offer myself? What the fuck? Get off of me!”
He put all his strength into it, shoving back against Martin until he was forced to stumble back a few steps.
“Let me make this clear,” Rory said, his heart hammering and blood buzzing through his veins. “I’m not interested in you. I’m here to fix your computer, to replace your router. That’s all. Find someone else for… this.”
Martin looked shocked to have been shoved, to have been rejected like that. It must not happen very often, if ever. He’s not someone people say no to. Rory knew that had been a mistake, but how could he have done anything different?
When Rory moved toward the door, Martin called him back. “I’ll only say this once, and I’m only giving you this chance because I like you so much. There’s an easy way and a hard way this can go. This is the easy way. You sure you still want to walk out that door?”
Rory was so worked up he thought he was going to throw up. Adrenaline had been dumped into his blood, and he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from saying what he did next if he’d tried. He thought about this moment a lot in the ensuing months, over and over again wondering if he’d said something else, if things would have turned out differently.
But that was for later. In the moment, Rory didn’t hesitate. “Fuck you, Martin,” he spat, and then left the room.
It was a good thing he didn’t see Martin’s icy eyes watching him go, because if he had, he might not have been able to stop himself from running away.