Hello again you lovely people!
Thank for the great feedback on my previous story, here is the sequel! It doesn't do so well as a standalone so I strongly recommend reading The Circus first (if you haven't already).
I've put the entire thing up in one go again so feel free to grab a beverage of your choosing and settle in for a slight darker tale this time (oooooh~)
Same old same old with characterisation being the real focus of this story, so hold out for the sexy times. This story deals with a few mental health issues which I don't really have any personal experience of so their portrayal is entirely fictional and possibly unrealistic (who knows?)
I did work hard on this so please don't steal it :(
Please enjoy!
D xx
Chapter one
Before his brother could even enter the room, Jason Turner was already shaking his head at the huge manilla folder the man carried. "Oh yes, this is happening," Alexander answered Jason's silent refusal, dumping the folder on the desk Jason was sat behind.
"No thank you, I don't wish to embark on any self harm today," he eyed up the folder with disgust, it's excessive contents pouring onto the desk.
"You're the only one left Jace," Alexander folded his arms.
"Fuck no," Jason folded his arms right back, "I don't do crazies," he gave the folder a push. Alex sighed, calmly shutting the door before striding back over and slamming his hands down on the desk, "okay how about this," he wore the smug look he always wore when he knew he would win an argument. "You do three sessions with Price and I don't tell Mum that I caught you shagging Mr. Richards in the Tranquility room."
Shit, he's got me there.
Jason groaned, grabbed the manilla folder and rearranged its contents, Alexander gave a smug look of victory before sitting down and answering a bunch of messages on his phone. "If you're going to have a Tranquility room don't make it the perfect place for sex," Jason grumbled. Since starting the business, his brother had made several additions including the lockable, soundproof, padded Tranquility room.
Speak Out had been just a concept when Alex had first decided to become a counsellor, now, five years on, the company had contracts with charities all over London as well as with local police and government. What had been a few counsellors dealing with troubled kids was now a huge glass building staffing over two hundred people, including Jason. Whilst Jason only worked there on a casual basis, his brother had
kindly
given him an office and a small amount of authority, he also
kindly
gave him the most difficult clients. At some point Alex had decided that since Jason was gay, he was somehow a specialist in all things gay, meaning he spent his free time comforting the local closeted teens that they would be fine blah blah blah. His approach wasn't the best and his people skills were lacking but somehow he got pretty good feedback. Price, however, was one client he was not willing to take on. The man had been on their books for eons and since the new year, had obviously decided to get full time counselling once and for all. In less than a fortnight, two counsellors and a psychologist had seen Mr. Price, all three of which never wished to see him again, even Alex was at the end of his tether.
Jason didn't even look at the file, knowing the mess it contained, instead he opened his desk drawer, pulling out a bag of crisps and munching them loudly, loving the way Alex's face twitched in annoyance. Finally looking up from his phone Alex snapped, "do you have to do that now?"
"Do what?" Jason took an especially large bite, knowing Alex hated the sounds of eating.
"You know what," his brother stood to leave, "are you a child? You're twenty nine and eating crisps at," Alex checked his watch, "six thirty at night."
"Didn't get any lunch," Jason shrugged, his Scottish accent catching on a few of the words.
"Well, eat those quickly," Alex swung the door open, "your appointment is in twelve minutes."
"With Price?" Jason sat up straight, causing crumbs to fly everywhere, "you fucking set me up."
"I did not," Alex's squeaky clean good looks were as infuriating as ever, "you're my gay counsellor, Mr. Price is gay. It's totally in your field."
"He's also a fucking lunatic!" Jason yelled after his brother as the man waved goodbye. Cursing even more, Jason stood, downing the rest of his snack before tidying himself up. He was still in his work suit and therefore far too overdressed for the so called 'vibe' at Speak Out. Eventually he stripped himself of his tie, rolling up his shirt sleeves and making sure he had no crumbs in the stubble that never seemed to leave his face. A glance in the mirror told him he looked rough, he liked to think of it a rugged but rough it was. He'd been flat out at work, them coming to the business whenever he had the time. His brown hair was a little too long and his double crown made it as messy as ever. Under his now-dull blue eyes hung large bags which required the kind of sleep he wasn't sure when he would get in order to be eliminated. He looked paler than ever, even for a Scotsman, and his stubble was more 'hobo' than 'hipster'.
Sighing, Jason cleared his desk as best he could, slapping on some deodorant and placing the manilla folder to one side. He grabbed his notebook and pen as well as the paperwork it seemed no one the staff could get Mr. Price to fill out. He was just finishing a last minute fresh mint when there was a knock at the door.
Hoorah. He's here.
Jason tried not to let his shoulders slump too much as he opened the door, his fake smile plastered on his face. "Mr. Price," he welcomed in the small man on the other side of the door. Albert Price certainly didn't look his thirty two years, in fact, he barely looked legal in the most worrying of ways. He had shockingly pale white blonde hair which fell over his face, it was rather long, but so fine it did nothing to cover the jagged scar which ran across the man's left temple. He was short, Jason wasn't a particularly tall man but Mr. Price was shorter than even many women. He was on the thin side, not enough to worry Jason but enough to see the spider's web of veins under that pale skin. He had a nice face, a pretty face, smooth lips and sharp cheeks, his eyes were almond shaped and a deep honey colour. He was, in a couple of words, rather lovely.
But not your type....right?
Of course not, Jason had a rather specific type, usual taking joy in deflowering homophobic footballers and the like. His like his men muscular and stupid, and Albert Price looked to be neither of those.
Jason led his new client to the seating area in his office, deciding the desk seemed to formal, he offered coffee but only received a shake of the head. They sat opposite each other, Jason lounging, in the most professional way he could, on the sofa, whilst Mr. Price sat in the huge leather armchair which practically swallowed him up. "So," Jason set up his notebook and paperwork, "Mr. Price-,"
"Bertie kay?" the man's voice was odd and hard to understand, it was high pitched and almost childlike.
"You'd prefer Bertie?" Jason asked, his confirmation was a nod of the head.
"Please," Bertie's eyes shone, his tongue never seemed to stop moving, sliding about his mouth like a snake, Jason's cock twitched a little at that.
Down boy, he's a nutter.
"Right then, Bertie, we just need to ask you a few questions okay? I know you've come here before but as it's been a while..." he drifted off, expecting some kind of response but instead just finding his new client eyeing him up with lust. Jason frowned,
don't come here for a fuck, not when there's people who actually need help.
"You get that Albert?" he said, a little too sarcastically. That seemed to snap Bertie out of whatever daze he was in, a second of anger flashing over his features before he schooled them back into a mask of stupidity and carelessness. "Yup," his voice was a little hard but he covered it up by gathering in his legs on the chair. Jason stopped himself from rolling his eyes, he didn't need to look in that folder to know that Bertie Price had had some messed up life, just like every other guy he counselled.
Unlike the others, Bertie had some medical notes in his file, something about a brain injury, the scar was obvious enough but already, Jason had his doubts. He asked the generic questions he was supposed to ask, mostly getting one word answers, but all the time he eyed up his new client. The act was good, very good in fact, so rarely did it slip. However, there were moments, milliseconds even, where the sweet, sexual exterior faulted and the very adult and very present emotions were barely contained. Those eyes, when not purposely glazed over, had a hardness of intelligence and power. His long, thin fingers, which danced along his arms, occasional tapped with impatience. "Okay," Jason said, after half an hour had passed, "I think that's enough for today. When did you want to come back in?" he got up of the sofa, heading over to the huge appointment calendar on his wall. He was oddly excited to get Bertie back in the chair, some of the questions he had asked the man weren't even on the list, but he had enjoyed provoking him, seeing that tailored mask slip just a few times.
"Hey mister," that childish voice called from across the room.
"Yes Bertie?" Jason had to stop himself from humming as he found a pen.
Suddenly, a small, pale hand slipped around Jason's waist, dainty little fingers dancing over his crotch, Jason was abruptly aware that his arrogance had reached all the way to his cock, which was half hard. "Mister," that high, posh voice came again, "pitiful people like me really get you hard huh?" the fingers were at Jason's fly now.
People like him? What? Master manipulators?
Taking a moment to calm himself, Jason pried those little fingers off his crotch, turning around only to catch another one of those fleeting microexpressions,
anger, disappointment, annoyance.
"Sorry Albert," he liked how Bertie flinched at that, "I wouldn't want to cross any professional boundaries. You understand?" he ruffled the man's hair as if he were but a child.
Anger again, oh this is fun.
Bertie did an exaggerated pout before reaching up and planting a kiss of Jason's cheek, "next time hm?" he slurred again, pointing at the gap on the calendar for the following day at seven in the evening.
