The Bone Collector-The Watch #1-Ch. 2 (Patreon)

Y'all, I've read and revamped this chapter so many times it looks like gibberish to me, but I'm throwing it up here anyway. Its unbeta'd, unedited, blah blah blah. Hopefully it only sucks in my head. 

Park

Park squeezed his hand into a fist as he walked, his palm still burning from where he’d touched Gift’s face. He should have never had him in his room. Ever. He didn’t know why he insisted on torturing himself like this night after night. Archer had jokingly called it exposure therapy, as if somehow seeing Gift’s pretty face every day would make resisting him easier instead of harder. But Park had weeks of anecdotal evidence that disproved Archer’s theory.

There were a million reasons why Park needed to avoid Gift. He was young—so young—naive, beyond innocent, a student, the child of two of his best friends…the list went on and on. And there was only one reason why Park couldn’t avoid Gift.

He didn’t fucking want to.

He had been a selfish prick his whole life. He’d made a vow a long time ago to never worry about pleasing anyone but himself, to never answer to anyone but himself. And it worked. Being a killer for his country had been the perfect career choice for someone like him. It was a solitary pursuit. And Park just wasn’t fit for other humans.

But then Anchale had shoved Gift into his arms and made him vow to protect him, her baby. Her only child. This sweet, innocent little thing who looked up at him with wide eyes and made him think things so depraved that others might need a shower after hearing them.

Park was a monster. And a masochist. Even though he knew he could never touch Gift, he wanted him close. Wanted to look at his face and listen to his voice when he called him hia. Something that shouldn’t have been sexy but was only because it was Gift.

What was the harm? Right? He could look and listen as long as he never touched, never crossed that line. But tonight, he had. Not on purpose, but that would hardly have mattered had they not been interrupted.

Gift was just s…beautiful. There wasn’t a soul who would argue with that assessment. He had these soft cheeks and dimples when he smiled, but he also had these caramel bedroom eyes and bone structure that would make sculptors weep. He was tall and slender and the perfect height to rest his head on Park’s shoulder…or his legs.

Christ.

But it wasn’t just his pretty face that got to Park. There was this…look that Gift saved just for him. The boy would laugh and joke and smile with others, but sometimes Park would catch him just staring at him with this intensity that made his dick hard and his heart race.

Whenever caught, Gift would flush then stammer and run away. It was hot. So hot. It made Park confused and horny and frustrated in a way he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t a man who had ever denied himself something he truly wanted.

And he wanted Gift.

The boy was like some fairy tale fae sent to tempt Park into violating his own boundaries, stirring parts of him that had been dormant for what felt like forever. But he shouldn’t want to do the things that came to mind whenever he looked at Gift. But late at night when he was alone, his perverse thoughts would have sent the quiet boy running in terror.

Which is why Park had vowed never to cross that line.

Park’s pants tightened uncomfortably, remembering the feel of Gift’s baby soft cheek under his palm. The startled gasp that had left his slightly parted lips as he’d looked up at him. Just thinking of it had Park wanting to use that line as a jump rope.

Fuck.

Park had to get out of this room. There were too many reminders of Gift, his perfume still lingering. This sort of fruity, floral fragrance that made Park want to bury his face against his neck. He grabbed his room key and headed out the door. There were only so many places for him to go.

While their campus might look like any other college in the country from the inside, from overhead it was something else entirely.

From overhead, one could see this sprawling campus had been built on the shell of a closed military base. From overhead, one could see that the entrance and all four corners of the perimeter were monitored by soldiers carrying high powered assault rifles. From overhead, it was clear that there was nothing normal about their school, which was why the school was located in a no fly zone.

Park’s footfalls echoed on the tiles as he stormed towards Boone’s office earning leery looks from the students still lingering in the main hall. When he reached his destination, he didn’t bother knocking, just slammed open the door earning a startled look from Boone, who was hunched over his desk searching through papers scattered across the messy surface.

Park gave him a disapproving look. “I don’t know how you can work like that,” he snapped, in lieu of hello.

Boone arched a brow, giving him a pissy expression, his southern drawl thicker than usual. “You know, I never miss my mom when you’re around.”

Park glowered at him. He’d known Boone almost as long as he’d known Gift’s parents. It was still hard for Park to believe that the harried man before him in his tweed jacket and loosened tie had once been one of the most accomplished assassins to ever live. The notorious sin-eater, taking out threats in the highest reaches of foreign governments then disappearing without a trace.

Now he was pushing paper across desks and playing den mother to a gaggle of baby monsters. But then so was Park, so who was he to judge?

He began to open cabinets around the large space. “Where’s your booze? I know you keep a stash in here somewhere.”

Boone sat back in his chair, chucking his chin towards a double-doored bookcase against the wall. “What did Gift do this time? Shoot another teacher with an arrow? Accidentally trigger a nuclear war?” He covered his mouth in mock horror. “Get an A- on an assignment?”

Boone seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in torturing Park about his current predicament, when it clearly wasn’t funny.

“I hate you,” Park muttered.

Boone threw back his head and laughed. “Now you’re just hurting my feelings.”

Park gave him another withering glance before snagging the bottle, ignoring the glasses to unscrew the cap and pour the bourbon directly into his mouth, before saying, “And this has nothing to do with him.”

“Him who?” Boone asked, smile smug.

Park rolled his eyes, then dropped down in the seat across from the other man. “Can I not just have a bad day?” he said, sounding sulky even to his own ears. “There are other things besides that boy that cause me grief.”

“That’s a lie,” Boone said without hesitation. “In all the years I’ve known you, nobody has ever gotten under your skin before. Nobody but him.”

Park tilted his head. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Boone snorted, giving him a dubious look. “I know you have the emotional intelligence of a potato. I know you’ve had longer relationships with your dry cleaner than any romantic partner. I know you see dating as some sort of act of domestic terrorism. Yet you insist that boy have dinner with you–alone in your room–every night. What’s up with that?” Boone asked, voice dripping with mock innocence.

“I’m just trying to keep him from being corrupted by the wolves prowling these halls. He’s too comfortable around them,” Park said, taking another healthy swallow.

“There’s not a wolf in this facility more dangerous than you…not when it comes to that boy. Besides, you’re the one who dropped him into their laps. What did you think would happen?” Boone asked.

“I thought he would stay with the handlers where he belongs. I didn’t think the killers would adopt him as a…pet.”

That much was true. He’d brought him to the school because a military installation with armed guards was the safest place for Gift, but he’d never intended for him to fall in with the students training to kill.

Boone scoffed. “He’s twenty-one, not twelve. Besides, it's not them who seems preoccupied with the idea of…corrupting him.”

That was true. The neurodivergent faction of the school were fascinated by Gift, but didn’t seem like they had any interest in harming him. It was like when predatory animals come across a defenseless baby and instead of eating it, decide to adopt it and raise it as one of their own.

The rational part of Park thought it gaveGift an added layer of protection. Payton and Dove were fiercely loyal to the boy. They would kill for him, Park had no doubt. That was a good thing. But the jealous part of Park hated how freely they touched Gift, playing with his hair, hugging him, holding him, kissing his cheeks. They had no right. Gift was his.

Except he definitely wasn’t.

Not in any way.

Park took a deep breath and let it out, flexing the hand that had touched Gift’s cheek. “Fuck you.”

Boone tilted his head raising the bottle in a mock salute. “Fuck him. You’d feel better.”

Park’s mouth became a flat line. “What kind of headmaster are you? Encouraging me to sleep with a student?”

“You’re the one that reminds us all ad nauseum that Gift is not long for this program.”

Before Park could form any type of witty retort, the door burst open and West poked his head in. Upon seeing the two sitting there, he entered and closed the door, dropping down into the other empty seat across from Boone.

Great. Now there were two of them. Unlike Boone and Park who were still dressed from work, West looked like he’d just come from the gym, wearing joggers and a hoodie, his short reddish blonde hair still slightly damp from sweat, his freckles hidden behind the flush of his cheeks.

When he wasn’t coming from the gym, West was usually overdressed for his job. Teaching cybersecurity to the handlers didn’t require much fashion sense, but West dressed like he was in a fashion show, with vests and jackets and overpriced ties. Park was a big fan of a well fitting suit, but he didn’t understand the need to be flashy about it.

West looked back and forth between the two of them. “What’s going on in here? Who died?”

Boone snorted. “Park’s lamenting about Gift again.”

West’s face split into a wide grin. “Why don’t you just bang this kid and be done with it?”

Park’s eyes went wide. “You two realize that we’re instructors here, right? We’re not supposed to be bedding our students.”

West snorted. “We’re not trying to bed our students. You, however, have been lusting over that virginal little kewpie doll since the moment you laid eyes on him. If he feels the same, what’s the problem?”

‘The problem is he’s half my age and I’ve been friends with his parents since before he was born.”

West snickered, giving him a puzzled look. “We…killed people. For money. So did Anchali. Fucking a guy who is well over the age of consent hardly seems worth all this fuss, no? It’s just sex. God knows you need to relax. Besides, as long as that boy remains a virgin there’s a target on his back. There’s not a psychopath in this school who doesn’t want to be the first to taste that particular forbidden fruit.”

“I will skin the first one who so much as holds his hand,” Park growled. “He’s not going to be a prize for anyone’s trophy case.”

West shrugged. “So take him first, then all the mystery is gone and he’s just another student.”

They both knew that was a lie. Gift was like none of the other students. Park made a noise of frustration. He couldn’t deal with this conversation right now. He took another swig of the alcohol, letting it burn its way down. He was too tense, too…horny. Fuck.

“I’m not going to give into some childish impulse to sleep with him, just because it might temporarily feel good. I’m not some oversexed frat boy. And killing people for money requires patience, calm, restraint. Something I’ve always had.”

Unlike his temperamental father. Park took another swig. His father? Where had that intrusive thought come from? Christ, now he was going to wallow in his shitty childhood. What was happening to him? He was having a complete and utter downward spiral over brushing Gift’s cheek? This was ridiculous. One touch and he was unraveling. Gift was some kind of siren or incubus. Park was sure of it.

“I mean, being an operative also requires a blatant disregard for one’s own safety too, so…” West reasoned.

Park had always had that too. At least since his father had kicked him out and told him to never come back. And he hadn’t. And he had never been freer.

Before Park could fall too far down the rabbit hole of his generational trauma, there was another knock at the door.

“Christ, did you send out invitations?” Park muttered.

Boone rolled his eyes. “This is my office. You invited yourself.” he reminded, then called, “Come in.”

The door opened and this time Archer Mulvaney poked his head inside. “Hey, we acquired the first target and Mac has worked up the assignment for Peregrine pod.”

As soon as he saw West and Park, he seemed to lose interest in his own news, stepping  inside. His large husband, Mac, was hot on his heels. The two couldn’t have looked more different. Archer looked like a modern day pirate while his husband looked like a ginger lumberjack.

Park couldn’t even fathom how professional gambler and a nature photographer had come to be working at the facility, much less be put in charge of things as important as target acquisition and curriculum. But they were, and they were important enough that they’re opinions superseded Boone’s and even Kendrick’s. Much to Kendrick’s dismay. Park would love to know who really pulled the strings on this fucked up science project.

“Is this some kind of unofficial office meeting?” Archer asked, frowning.

“Or an office party?” Mac asked, taking in Park and the half-full bottle of liquor in his hand.

“I was just trying to get some paperwork done,” Boone said. “But it seems that ship has sailed. Close the door.”

Park shoved the bottle in their direction. Mac took a swig and handed it back, but Archer shook his head, holding up the water bottle in his hand.

“So why does it look like someone’s cat died?” Mac asked, leaning against the wall, beefy arms crossed over his muscular chest.

When West and Boone looked at Park, Archer laughed. “Ah, it must be Gift.”

Park glowered at Archer. “What do you mean, it must be Gift?”

Archer and Boone exchanged knowing looks that made Park want to hit them both. With a hammer.

Finally, Archer said, “Listen, you’ve got all the warmth of an iceberg. You’re all business, all the time. Mr. Responsibility—”

“Are you getting to the point,” Park asked, cutting him off, irritated.

“The point is,” Boone said gently. “The only person who can make you this…”

“Human?” West offered.

Boone snapped his fingers. “Yes, human. That works. The only person that makes you act like a human is Gift.”

“I am a human,” Park muttered.

West snorted. “You were a human, like sixteen years ago. Then you just shut down and became a machine. A killing machine. The infamous bone collector,” he said, waggling his fingers like he was talking about some ghost in an urban legend. “In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen you so much as mildly agitated, but if that boy is within ten yards of you, you just…fall apart. It’s embarrassing, man. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Park blew a breath out through his nose like an angry bull. What would Kendrick do if Park beat the shit out of another instructor? Probably throw him in a black ops prison and leave him to die. Looking at West’s smug face, Park thought it might be worth the risk.

Boone shrugged. “West’s right. I don’t know what it is about that kid but anytime he’s around, you suddenly look—”

“Constipated,” West finished. “Emotionally constipated.”

Park’s mouth became a hard line. “Are you two gonna keep finishing each other’s sentences? I’m starting to think you’re the married couple in the room.”

“The point is, you clearly like him…he definitely likes you,” Archer said. “So what’s the problem? This is a graduate program for baby psychopaths and their professional babysitters. We’re not teaching high schoolers. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Park’s eyes went wide, scoffing. “What’s the worst that can happen? Seriously? Have you forgotten why Gift is with me in the first place?”

While Park had shaken off the immense obligation that came with caring about others years ago, there had been one person to somehow scale the impenetrable force field he’d built around himself.

Anchali.

“His mother is one of my closest friends,” Park lamented, flopping further back into the uncomfortable chair and taking another sip. He gave a grumpy look to the others. “Clearly my only friend.”

“Maybe she’s your only friend because you only have two settings: robot or dramatic, horny, teenager?” West said, then snagged the bottle from Park to take another heavy pull.

Park ignored him, wishing he could somehow talk to Anchali about this. She would have had sage advice. But he could hardly call her up and tell her he was fantasizing about seducing her only child.

He and Anchali had clicked right away. There was something about her that Park had understood. In a way, they were kindred spirits, focusing more on getting the job done then who was hurt in the process. They’d made a good team. She’d been a far better handler than Kendrick ever had, which Park suspected was part of the reason Kendrick had benched her. A small part.

Anchali was…hot and cold. Hard and soft. She was fiercely loyal to her country, laser focused on her career. Her marriage had been arranged by her parents and she hadn’t cared enough about it to fight the old fashioned practice. She’d liked Setja enough to have him as a lifetime companion. She said it kept things simple. Convenient.

But having a baby hadn’t been in her plans, it hadn’t been in any of their plans. Spies didn’t have unplanned pregnancies and stay on the job. Anchali had wanted to end it, but Setja had made it clear that abortion wasn’t an option.

Which is how Gift came into the world. An accident. Not that he would ever know that. Nor would he know that Anchali had almost lost him the night he was born, suffering a gunshot wound that would have taken both her and the baby out if it had been two millimeters higher.

She’d recovered quickly, but it had given Kendrick the perfect excuse to put her into a boring desk job. A punishment for not being in love with him. But it didn’t matter. Anchali had vowed she would never love anything more than Gift, but she’d also known he would never be safe with her, even at her boring desk job. So instead, she’d sent him to the finest boarding schools and given him anything he could ever want. It should have turned Gift into a spoiled brat.

But somehow, it had done just the opposite.

Gift was sweet. Soft. Pretty in a way no boy had a right to be. He was also fiercely smart, exceedingly loyal, and obedient to his own detriment. Obedient in a way that made Park want to test the boundaries of his compliance. Just how far did that need to please extend?

Christ. This was why Park had no right to touch someone like Gift. He would simply corrupt him. Drag him down into the depraved fantasies that haunted his dreams.

“Gift isn’t a baby,” Archer said. “Hell, his mother might be grateful if you two ended up together, considering the alternatives.”

Park looked at Archer like he’d grown two heads. There was no universe where Anchali would be okay with Park being with Gift. And she shouldn’t be. Park had no right to someone so pure.

“How am I going to keep this up long term?” Park muttered.

“Pardon?” Boone asked.

“How do I keep my hands off him?” Park asked again.

“You could have him switch pods?” Archer said. “But you’d have to transfer Payton too. They’re already bonded. If you take that boy’s comfort object, there'll be a trail of bodies from here to Vegas in less than a week.”

Archer was right. Payton was unpredictable. One of the only students who’d arrived with a body count. For all intents and purposes, he should have never been allowed in the program, but Boone had made an exception for him, though nobody really knew why.

“I…can’t do that,” Park said. “I made a promise. I need to keep him close.”

When Anchali had asked him to watch over Gift, he should have made an excuse. They could have found someone else to protect their son. Given the danger of their jobs, the boy never should have been without security anyway. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. But it had never occurred to Park to say no to the friends he’d known half his life.

But in his defense, it had also never occurred to Park that the chubby little kid he’d caught glimpses of off and on throughout the years would grow up to be as alluring as he was. He was like Park’s darkest desires come to life. Somehow both perfectly innocent and impossibly bewitching.

“Close?” West said, voice smug. “I bet.”

“Fuck you,” Park muttered.

West grinned. “Nah, fuck him. You’ll feel better.”

Why did people keep saying that to him?

That was never going to happen. Not in a million years. Park was just going to have to get used to being perpetually sexually frustrated.

Even if it killed him.