Page 54 of Compulsion

I surreptitiously placed my palms flat against the wall behind me. Maybe I could surprise him—launch myself at him. “Let’s go and find Peck.” I just needed another inch or so to maneuver out from under the blade. “I’ll explain it all to him. He’ll be really pleased with you, you know.”

Then his head snapped up like it was on a spring. He grunted and tightened his grip on the knife. My precious inch of potential escape was lost; the gap between me and the blade narrowed. I froze. So—luckily—did he. He slid it along my jaw line and up to my cheek. It felt cold and hot on my skin, all at the same time. Just an illusion, I guessed. I wasn’t really thinking clearly.

Baz chewed at his lower lip. It looked chapped and sore. “Dun’ be s’ fuckin’ stupid, Max.” His voice had deepened. He was no longer whining—he sounded older even than me. “You dun’ tell me what t’ do anymore, do y’? He does. And I do wha’ I’m told, and so I’ll be okay. That’s wha’ you oughtta do ’s well. Then I wouldn’ have t’ be here, would I?”

I missed the logic of this, but I wasn’t about to argue with him. At the corner of my vision, I saw a blurred movement in the kitchen doorway, and I tried desperately not to let the sudden awareness show in my face. Seve was strong and fast. If he could catch Baz’s hand, twist the knife away… dammit, we were two strong adults, we could—

It didn’t happen that way, because although Seve was fast, Baz was faster. Baz had slipped the blade across and away from my cheek and barreled into Seve before I could gasp a warning. Before I even felt the cold metal leaving my warm skin; before I registered the long thin slice on my face that was already starting to ooze a drop of warm blood. Somehow Baz had heard Seve approaching.

The speed of Baz’s reaction ambushed Seve and knocked him off-balance. It looked like he’d been reaching for Baz, trying to grab Baz’s arms, but now he stumbled and fell against me. He was naked apart from his sweats, and his arms flailed as he tried to right himself. We both crashed back against the kitchen counter. I clumsily banged my leg on the edge of the metal vegetable rack, and I saw Seve thud against the door of the fridge. It bounced open, spilling a sliver of light across the room for a second before it slammed back shut.

Baz followed us across the room but he moved jerkily. He darted forward, the serrated knife in his hand flashed dully, and Seve cried out in pain. In the dim light I saw blood welling on his arm, shining black drops. Then Baz gave me another surprisingly strong push and Seve and I ended up almost in each other’s arms, jammed against the edge of the counter between the fridge and the waist-high wine rack.

Baz had the large knife aimed back at my throat. He wasn’t touching me anymore, but he had a knife in each hand and was well within stabbing range. His eyes were shining and he had to cover us both, but he knew he had the advantage. He was still moving erratically, but he never once strayed close enough for us to grab at him first. Native cunning, I assumed.

“Stupid, stupid!” he hissed. “Look at y’ both, no clothes, no knife, big ’n clumsy an’ stupid. You can’t catch me! Max knows that, dun’ he? I can do my job an’ be away before y’ know it.”

“I caught you once,” I snapped back. “Not so fast then, were you?” Beside me, I felt Seve tense.

Baz blinked hard as if trying to assimilate the memory of me hitting him. “You weren’ meant t’ be there. Jus’ the do-gooder. It was goin’ t’ be real quick. I like a knife, y’see. It’s clean ’n quiet, an’ you can get real close.”

I glanced briefly at Seve, sure my desperation showed on my face. He had a hand over his cut arm, trying to stem the blood. I wanted to apologize; I wanted to protect him from this. Not again beat through my veins in the rhythm of my heartbeat. It can’t happen again.

Baz caught my look. He stared between us curiously. “You both faggots, then?”

Seve tensed again, but I touched his shoulder, trying to calm him. It had never been more than a casual insult from Baz—I’m not sure he knew anything about gay men, though he knew that’s what I was. “Faggot” was just a noun in his very limited vocabulary. It was what Peck often called me, so that’s what Baz used.

“Yes,” Seve said, his voice startling me. He wouldn’t catch my eye. “We are. What about you?”

It was my turn to tense up. “Seve—”

Baz sniggered. “No way.”

Seve smiled as if unperturbed, still looking straight at Baz. “Aren’t you just a little curious? Wouldn’t you like to see what it is we do? What Max does?”

Where the hell was he going with this? Baz had never shown any sexual interest in anyone, as far as I knew.

Baz tipped his head to the side. “What the fuck y’ mean? I’m not puttin’ the knife down, y’know. Still got my job t’ do.”

Seve shrugged. I was so close to him I could feel his skin and the shiver that ran through him. “So have a bit of fun before you kill us both. Give me one last chance to touch him. He feels really good. And you can watch. Would you like that?”

Baz had an unhealthy devotion to Peck, of course. He’d always seemed to like me too. But how could Seve know if that was what turned him on? This was a strange strategy of Seve’s, and I didn’t think I was reassured by it. Not reassured at all.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert,” Baz said conversationally. He flexed his wrist so that the large knife caught a glimmer of light from outside. “Y’ like that snuff stuff ’n all?”

“Maybe,” Seve replied. His voice was low, calm, and almost seductive. “We can talk about that another time. But Max is gorgeous, isn’t he? Got a great body… you can see that, can’t you?” Still that soft, lulling tone. “You can keep hold of the knives. We won’t be any trouble. Just give me one last touch.”

Baz stared at him like he was genuinely disgusted, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes too. “Guess if he takes it up th’ arse, he deserves everythin’ he gets, eh?”

“Guess so,” Seve said. Very, very softly.

And Baz seemed to relax—only slightly, but enough for the knife to dip down from pointing at my throat. He leaned back against the kitchen table opposite us, still only a few feet away. “Come on, then. Do it.”

“What?” I suppose I hadn’t thought through what might happen next.

“Drop your jeans,” Seve murmured in my ear. He tugged me sideways to stand in front of him, his hand holding me around the waist, both of us facing Baz. “Show him what you’ve got to offer.”

Baz was flushed and his eyes blazed, scary companions to the knife blades. I was suddenly afraid that we’d pushed him further along the wrong path. I twisted my head to shoot a look at Seve, trying to say without words, What the fuck are you doing? He glanced at me with a steady gaze and I was none the wiser. So I turned back to face the front and, with fumbling fingers, I slid my jeans down my legs and stepped out of them so I was naked again. The air in the kitchen was cool on my skin.