by J. M. Dabney
His phone rang, and he grabbed it off the counter, connecting the call.
“Yeah?”
“How far you out?” Gage’s deep growl of a voice sounded in his ear.
“Forty-five. Just leaving now.”
“Get a move on. It seems the guy is in for the night. He scored, and there’s a pretty thing on his arm.”
“I’ll be there, get off my balls.” He disconnected the call and shoved it in his back pocket. He closed the distance between him and the couch, he leaned over the back and made the worst mistake of his life. He placed his crooked fingers under the softness of Fielding’s pointed chin. The skin was delicate and velvety as rose petals. His boy wasn’t even old enough to have a proper beard. He forced the boy’s gaze to his. “What are the rules?”
The boy’s gaze didn’t waver from his mouth. Fielding took a deep breath, and on the exhale, recited the rules he’d established for his boy earlier in the day when he got the call.
“Stay inside. Don’t answer the phone unless it’s your ring. If I’m scared, I call only you. If anything happens, I’m to go into the panic room. You’ll be alerted and will get to me as soon as you can. I’m to eat all the dinner you made for me.”
“What else?”
“I’m to behave and to trust that you know what’s best for me.”
“Exactly. Now, study and I’ll be home soon.” He released Fielding too quickly before he gave into the urge to brush a kiss to the candy-stained lips that silently begged for him. How the fuck was he going to make it through without dirtying his pretty boy with all the nasty things he wanted to do to him.
He strode quickly toward the door. His cabin may look rustic, but his security was top-notch. No one got in or out without him knowing, cameras were everywhere inside and out. He could keep an eye on his boy even miles away. He exited and locked down the cabin. Fielding would be safe until he got home. No doubt in his mind about that. It was time to get his head in the game.
It was organized chaos, he and Linus were on the front door, Little and Pure were taking the back. As he kicked in the door, the stench of weed, stale cigarettes, and alcohol were overwhelming to his senses even through the bandana around his lower face. He raised his weapon as Linus yelled Bail Enforcement and they cleared room after room. Linus and him worked in perfect sync.
A screech from upstairs would do a banshee proud and a naked man—why did they always have to be naked—stormed out of a room. He dove over the railing just as the fucker compressed the trigger on a shotgun. The wall exploded behind him, and Linus returned fire. He took Linus’ Six as their jumper’s gun jammed. Linus and him took the steps, and then he had the guy turned over and on his stomach.
The scariest feeling in the world was the cold steel of a barrel pressed to your forehead, and he eased his head up to stare down the barrel of a nine-millimeter Glock.
“Linus.”
“I got it. Lady, you want to put that down. We ain’t got no issues with you. I’d hate to put a bullet in you.”
“Let him go.”
“Can’t do that, lady.”
Any other day he’d laugh and take his chances by knocking the gun from her shaking hands. There was a reason Linus always put him on point or the most dangerous jobs. He didn’t care whether he lived or died, and that made him a dangerous man. Not today, he had someone waiting at home—depending on him to come back. It might be a job, but the boy meant more than some damn assignment. A fucked up time to realize it when he was about to have his head blown off by some naked, tweaking woman.
“Want to go home to your boy tonight, Liv?”
Stupid fucking question, and the amusement in Linus’ voice showed him his boss and friend knew it. “You damn well know it.”
“Don’t try anything; I’ll shoot y’all.” Her voice was hysterical and high enough to break fucking glass.
“Team, make entry at the back. We’ve got a little problem here.”
“Little problem, you ready to make your first family visit, boss?”
“Ye of so little faith, Liv. I haven’t made one of those visits in my career. I ain’t doing it tonight. Pure, you in position?”
He leaned heavier on the hand holding the fighting man still. He knew what was coming. Pure was the best sniper in the country. Pure was ready with non-lethal rounds.
“On your command, boss,” Pure’s voice whispered through his earpiece.
“I’ll shoot him, I swear.” The woman waved her weapon around giving Pure the shot they’d hoped for.
“Take her down.”
He reacted and rolled to use the jumper as a shield. The woman screamed as Pure’s rubber bullet made contact and two shots rang out as she discharged the weapon wildly.
“We’re clear. You doing okay back there, Liv?”
“Get this fucker off me.”
“Not your type, huh?”
“Fuck you, man.” He cursed as a saggy hairy ass flashed in front of his vision before Linus dragged the guy away.
“Get your ass up from there.”
“Nah, man, I’m okay right here a minute.”
“Wow, the Death Wish Junkie met his match in a pretty little blond-haired blue-eyed boy, and now he’s all cautious and shit.”
He opened his eyes to see Linus, Little, and Pure all staring down at him. They wore matching smug grins, but they’d leave Linus to bust his balls. The moment that gun had been pointed at his head, Fielding’s sweet face with that lustful expression flashed in his mind. All he could think was that his boy was sitting in the cabin waiting on him and he wasn’t going to make it home.
“How the fuck do you do it, man? You got two of them at home, and one pretty thing has me by the short hairs. I ain’t even touched him yet.”
“Excuse me, you’ve had him up there for almost two weeks on lockdown and you ain’t gotten even a little piece?”
Linus almost sounded disgusted by his restraint. He wasn’t led around by his dick like everyone else he knew. He had some self-control—not much, but some.
“I am supposed to be watching him. I thought the point of this being a job was to show some professionalism.”
“Dude, I ain’t got enough fingers to count off how long it’s been since you got laid and you ain’t even taste tested the most prime piece to ever fall in your lap.”
He was going to kill Little.
“Can I kill him?”
“No, he probably deserves it, but he’s the best surveillance man in the country.”
“Liv, you do know that the so-called prime piece is as virginal as I am?” Pure asked.
It blew his mind every time Pure talked about his virginity like it was just another thing for a twenty-something guy. Okay, he knew not everyone jumped into bed with every person who asked, but the man was six and a half feet of gorgeous man. He glanced between Pure’s spread legs to see Raul standing on the stairs staring at Pure.
Raul was holding onto the zip ties they’d used to secure the couple’s wrists.
Raul snarled as he realized he was caught. “We got to get a move on, Jumper’s neighbors are gathering on their lawns, and they don’t seem like the neighborhood welcoming committee,” Raul announced and jogged back down the steps while pushing his charges forward.
He tightened his abs and sat up, then jumped to his feet. It might take a little longer than anticipated to get home. He was going to have to call Fielding. For the first time in his life, he was going to have to call and check-in with someone that wasn’t a commanding officer or co-worker.
Six
Fielding Didn’t Like Being Alone
The cabin was too quiet, Livingston didn’t make much noise, but at least he knew the man was around. He moved around the kitchen with the heavy weight of Livingston’s jacket hanging on him. He’d grabbed one of Livingston’s t-shirts from the laundry he’d folded earlier and even a pair of his socks. The man probably wouldn’t appreciate him wearing his clothes. He felt safer than he had in a long time, and he�
�d even washed with Livingston’s body wash and shampoo. He shook the bag of Kettle Corn Popcorn into a big bowl as he listened to the movie’s opening credits. Livingston had a surprising collection of movies and not just blood and guts or action ones either. He loved action movies, though, and the hunky leading men, but none of them would ever again compare to the sight of Livingston in his tactical gear.
He’d forgotten how to breathe until Livingston ordered him to. That bossy stuff shouldn’t be as sexy as it was, but he couldn’t deny that is was. It wasn’t just Livingston being dominating. Livingston made sure he was okay. That he ate enough. Slept enough. He felt cared for, and he could almost pretend that he was loved.
He shook his head and cradled the bowl in his arms as he headed back to the couch. He had a few hours to kill. Normally he’d be in bed by now, going at the same time Livingston did. The big man called a few hours ago and said he would be late; the job hadn’t turned out as simple as he’d thought. Livingston asked him if he wanted to have someone come and stay with him, but he didn’t want anyone else in the house with him. He knew Livingston didn’t like anyone else in his space. He’d wanted to ask questions. Instead, he’d let Livingston get back to work so he could come home.
He was chewing the first bite of popcorn just as the beginning explosion toppled a building and he settled in to enjoy the movie until Livingston came home. Leaning his head back, he curled his legs and set the bowl beside his hip. He could get used to this. No auditions. No nagging parents. A place of his own where his parents didn’t have a key to get in to try and catch him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. They couldn’t portion his food out until he was starving.
Except for his dream of going to college like everyone else his age, this was the life he wanted. He sighed and closed his eyes with a smile on his face.
He woke to a feeling of weightlessness, and he partially opened his eyes to see the uneven skin of Livingston’s scars. He must still be dreaming. If he was then he needed to take advantage, he nuzzled the odd texture with his nose and inhaled the scent of sweat and the faintness of soap.
“You let the fire go out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, let me get you all tucked in, and I’ll get it going again.”
“Bad night at work?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Just a night like any other. Did you eat all your dinner?”
“Yes, and I had popcorn while I watched my movie.”
“Any more candy?”
He held onto Livingston as the man tried to lay him down on the bed. A rough chuckle vibrated the big man’s chest, and he smiled into the warmth of Livingston’s neck.
“No, sir.”
“That's my good boy. Now, it's time for you to go to sleep. I have a surprise for you tomorrow.”
He released Livingston's neck and stared up at the man's face.
“What is it?”
“It's not a surprise if I tell you.”
A roughened hand stroked his hair, then the backs of Livingston's fingers caressed along his cheek. The big man pulled away and then pulled the covers up to tuck them in tight around him.
“I don't even get a hint.”
“You can bat those pretty blues at me all you want; I'm not telling you.”
The bed dipped beside him, and Livingston leaned over him with his hand flat next to his left hip. He studied Livingston and noticed something different. It was there in big man's eyes. It seemed lighter and happier, the crinkles deeper when Livingston smiled. The same tilt he had become jealous of at Granger's Grocery.
“Well since I was a good boy and did everything you asked, could I have a reward?”
“And what do you think you deserve?”
“I don't know.”
“Why don't you scoot over, get comfortable and I'll get in bed with you after I shower.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but first I have to clean up.”
He turned on his side and scooted to the middle of the bed.
“I see that's agreeable.”
He held his breath when Livingston leaned down and pressed his lips to his forehead. He wondered what it would feel like if Livingston kissed him. Livingston’s curled fingers slipped under his chin and nudged his head up.
“Breathe, boy.”
He sighed at the order, and he flinched as firm lips pressed to his, and he put his arms back around Livingston’s neck. He was suddenly gathered in the big man’s strong arms, fingers roughly fisted in his hair. His head was winched back, and he stared into Livingston’s eyes. They were dark with emotion and the angles of his face harsh.
The expression scared him, and he attempted to pull back, but Livingston’s hold tightened on his hair. He dropped his arm’s from around Livingston’s neck and placed his hands flat on the powerful muscles of Livingston’s chest.
“You don’t pull away from me, boy. Do you understand me?”
“Y—yes, sir.” Livingston’s tightly clenched fist didn’t hurt, but he looked angry.
“I’ll shower and be right back.”
As quickly as Livingston sat beside him, the man was gone. Maybe this was all a dream, and he was still asleep on the couch waiting for Livingston to come home. He stretched out flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The shower started, and he peeked toward the bathroom to find the door cracked. He held his breath as he watched Livingston strip. He’d studied Livingston’s silhouette in the dark as the man prepared for bed, but it hadn’t prepared him for the man in full light.
Livingston was perfection; the extensive scarring didn’t take away from the power the man exuded. He pressed his fingers to his lips as he remembered the uneven texture, a combination of rough and soft. Dark, curly hair covered Livingston’s left side from collarbones to the waistband of tight boxer briefs. He held his breath and bit his bottom lip as Livingston hooked his fingers in the side of his underwear and pushed them down. His eyes widened at the man’s thick cock.
He noticed Livingston tense, and he dragged his gaze up to the man’s face. The man looked angry—not like he had a few minutes before—Livingston stared into the mirror. Livingston stroked his hand over the side of his face, lower to his neck and chest. He flinched as emotionless eyes stared at him and the door slammed.
The shuttered emotion and the loud boom of the door caused his chest to tighten. His world was very much about looks and popularity, and he hated it. Evil existed in the prettiest forms, users, and abusers who took without thought of giving anything back.
He wanted Livingston. He feared the intensity of it. For almost twenty-three years he’d only done what everyone else wanted for him, and he didn’t want that anymore. He didn’t want to go back to life as normal. Nothing waited for him in Los Angeles—just more misery. Could he let himself be selfish and ask for what he needed? Was he crazy to crave the life he’d found here with a man who probably saw him as nothing more than some one-off? A momentary distraction while Livingston had a pretty yet annoying boy around?
He turned over and hugged his pillow to his chest closing his eyes, hoping for sleep before Livingston came back from the bathroom. His neediness embarrassed him, and Livingston probably looked at him pityingly.
Seven
Shouldn’t He Be Used to the Stares?
He’d left the door cracked to let the boy look at him, but once he looked in the mirror, the euphoria of being desired fled. Rage took over, and he’d slammed the door blocking Fielding’s view. He raised his hand to stroke his scarred cheek. He knew the texture by heart, the dips of ruined, twisted skin that no amount of plastic surgery would make disappear. Fielding was beautiful, and he was a monster, a perverted beast that wanted to soil the pretty man currently waiting in his bed.
The images of fucking that pretty, virginal body into his mattress caused his cock to harden and his balls to ache. Whatever hard-on he had disappeared as soon as he remembered the lick of flame over his body as his bed burned. The scarves
around his wrists and ankles. His screams drowned out the laughter of his mother as she watched him burn. He’d begged. Promised her he’d be good until the agony took his voice.
He didn’t remember the rescue or the days and weeks which followed, time lost in a haze of painkillers or pain as they scrubbed his wounds. Infection after infection as his body rejected the skin grafts. Until the night his mother tried yet failed to murder him, he’d thought the bruises and burns were normal. The way a parent showed their love. His evilness needed to be exorcised from him. Punishment was caring.
Thirty years he’d lived as a freak, ostracized for being different. At eight, he’d prayed to the God his mother worshiped to let him die. He promised what was left of his soul to not awake. Instead, he’d learned to hate the body he lived in and when he’d had his first crush on a boy in his school—he knew he wasn’t normal. He’d never have what he wanted.
An hour ago, he’d come home to find his boy asleep on his couch wearing his clothes, and he’d wanted Fielding close. Just a moment to hold him, and when his boy awoke to nuzzle his scars, his dick went instantly hard. He’d never had a man look at him with desire, and it was a heady feeling. He needed someone who didn’t just want his dick, but him—no disgust over his ruined body and face.
Men always passed him over to go for his better-looking Crew members. They’d bend over for him in the dark, but never kiss or let him touch or want to touch him. He looked down at himself. He was powerfully built with thick, hard muscle from years of serving in the military and law enforcement. He needed to be in top shape. Yet that didn’t change his imperfections.
A soft knock drew his attention to the door as it opened and Fielding entered. He didn’t say a word as his boy approached and Fielding was his, no matter how much he’d fought it. Fielding’s cheeks turned pink as the smaller man slipped between him and the sink. He gripped Fielding’s waist and lifted him onto the counter.