Livingston

by J. M. Dabney

  “It freaks you out a little, doesn’t it?”

  An answer came to him quickly, but he held back to think about it. Was he freaked? It didn’t feel like it. Did he find it odd: yes. He took a deep breath before he answered Sin. “I don’t know; it just seems odd.”

  “Does it?” Sin asked.

  “A grown—”

  “No, listen, it’s only odd if people make it that way. Camden takes care of us. Puts ours and our daughter’s happiness above his own. All he asks from us is our love and trust. The Daddy thing is really only for at home or when we’re around friends.”

  “Livingston would make an amazing Daddy,” Saint announced with a smile.

  “Really? Livingston?” Sin sounded shocked by the thought of Livingston taking a Daddy role.

  He wanted to defend Livingston but didn’t know what to say, so, he just studied Saint as the beautiful man tucked Elisabeth into a sling. Sin approached with a bottle.

  “Yeah, think about it, he’s possessive, protective, he’s sort of an asshole, but he has a major soft gooey center.”

  He covered his smile at the thought of Livingston being soft. He didn’t think Livingston would appreciate it.

  “Oh, look, Sin, we got a smile.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. He didn’t have friends, but he wondered if this was what it felt like. People who worried if he experienced happiness or if he was safe.

  “I haven’t had much to smile over lately.”

  “Doesn’t the whole crazy fan thing just come with being famous?” Sin asked.

  “I just thought it was harmless. That’s what they kept telling me. I didn’t go with my gut and look what it got me.”

  “Surrounded by hot men with guns who look sexy in their tactical gear. Your life is so fucking hard.”

  “Okay, that part I’m not complaining about. Livingston makes me stop breathing.”

  “Daddy in his uniform, the only thing better is when he’s naked.”

  “Saint ain’t lying. You should see what happens when Daddy comes home after work. Instant hard-on. We can’t bend—”

  His face flamed so quickly his cheeks stung, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “He blushes.” Sin bent to the side in front of him and peeked at his face.

  “You all are way too open about sex.”

  Soft fingertips touched his chin and nudged until he lifted his head to stare into compassionate blue eyes. Sin wasn’t mocking him. He relaxed his muscles slowly from shoulders to toes, letting everything flow away at just being with people he could see as friends. It was a nice, comforting thought.

  “Sex is great. Like our friend Lucky tells us, it’s the most uninhibited act two or more people can do together. It can be making love or something as visceral as dirty, sweaty fucking. It’s not something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about.”

  “I really shouldn’t be thinking about sex when someone is threatening me.”

  “Best time, nothing clears the mind like a hard dick pounding you into a mattress,” Sin said with a mischievous grin.

  “I’m going back to the conference room.”

  “No you’re not, it’s boring in there. We’ve sat through mission planning. It’s all rather boring.”

  “But, Sin, what if I get to fly the rescue!”

  “Ignore my brother; flying is the only other thing that gets him excited.”

  “I could tell.”

  Saint had instantly brightened when the man mentioned flying. He didn’t know of anything that made him that excited. Life was on auto-pilot for him. He went and did what everyone told him to do, never taking a chance on what he wanted. Unfortunately, the only thing he wanted was to stay there in Powers and maybe have Livingston for himself. That wouldn’t happen. Livingston had made himself clear that when this was over, the man would send him home.

  The thought depressed him. He’d asked for what he wanted when Livingston suggested assigning him another bodyguard, but that wasn’t what this was. He needed to remember that he was there for a short time. When the time came, he’d leave and put on the brave front and pick up the pieces when he arrived home.

  “You’re too pretty to look so sad,” Saint said as he patted Elisabeth through the sling and bounced on his toes as she fussed a bit.

  “I hate being pretty.”

  Sin snorted. “Nothing you can do about it, you’re pretty.”

  “I don’t want to be. I just want to be…normal.”

  “Normal sucks, worse thing in life is to be normal. Carbon copies of the same. Stand out.”

  “Sin, I don’t want to stand out. All I’ve ever done is be the center of attention.”

  “Not on your terms, though.”

  He jerked his gaze to Sin. “My terms?”

  “Yeah, your terms. Find you. Crazy shit that makes you you. Weird quirks. An over-the-top wardrobe. Be you.”

  “I don’t know what’s me. I live by rules…expectations. I can do this. I can’t eat that. I can’t be me.”

  “You know what you’re forgetting?” Saint asked.

  He thought about it, and nothing came to him. “What am I forgetting?”

  “You’re an adult. You can do what you want. You don’t have to act or pretend to be something you’re not. Life is about accepting who we are and being happy with it.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve never done anything else. Acting is my job and appearance is all I have.”

  “Then fix your shit, man, because I’m telling you, you’re going to wake up one day fifty and miserable, alone. With nothing to show for it except movie posters and some worthless statues that remind you of all the wasted years.”

  “Wow, I’m feeling the sympathy.”

  “I have no sympathy for you.”

  Sin leaned against him and whispered, “What did you do to my brother?”

  “I didn’t do anything. He’s mean.”

  “That is a me move. Saint has never done that before.”

  “Can you tell me what makes me so special, so I can never do it again?”

  He warily eyed Saint as he moved around the edge of the room trying to sneak toward the door and safety. He was almost through the door when his escape was impeded. A beautiful older woman with silver-streaked blonde hair was dressed in an expensive suit that did nothing to hide her numerous tattoos and piercings. She looked sweet and kind, but he sensed he was wrong.

  “Oh, hi, you’re new and beautiful, who do you belong to?”

  “No one.”

  “If that’s true, I’m sure it won’t be that way long. My boys do love their pretty men. I’m Peaches.”

  The woman didn’t look like someone named Peaches.

  “I’m Fielding.”

  “So, you’re Livingston’s. A pleasure to meet you. If my Liv doesn’t treat you right, just let me know. He isn’t too old for me to set him straight.”

  “Okay.”

  He didn’t know what else to say. She smiled so sweetly, but the menace shining in her eyes frightened him. He did like that she considered him Livingston’s but most of the people he’d met called him Livingston’s boy.

  “Relax, honey; I’m not as scary as everyone may imply. I heard the boys say they’re going to kill you in a few days. They seem maniacally excited about an execution. But that’s just my boys. Where’s my granddaughter?” Peaches demanded as she pushed into the room and held out her hands.

  He pivoted in time to see Peaches taking Elisabeth.

  “She’s so beautiful, y’all did so good.”

  “Camden does make a pretty baby.” Saint’s face turned the prettiest shade of pink. “I made the right decision when I asked him to donate.”

  “When are you having the next?”

  “One, Peaches, we’ve talked about this, and I can’t put Lou through that again. It’s been nine months, and she still hasn’t come to visit yet.”

  The sadness in Saint’s pale blue eyes made him frown because Sin and Saint seemed so
happy all the time.

  While they were distracted, he took one step out of the break room.

  “Stop,” Peaches ordered.

  He froze at that one word, one foot held off the floor.

  “Hold the baby.”

  A soft wiggling little girl was placed in his arms, and he held her awkwardly. His stomach churned with nausea and the saliva built in his mouth as he fought the urge to puke.

  “Look how beautiful she is, babies are—”

  “Peaches.” Livingston’s voice came from behind him, and Elisabeth was easily removed from his arms.

  The big man made it look so easy. As bad ass and dangerous as the man appeared to be, Livingston looked so natural holding Elisabeth. Livingston even made faces and kissed her cheeks, blew raspberries on her flight suit covered belly. He couldn’t even hold the kid for a few seconds without wanting to throw up.

  “What, Liv, don’t you want to make your mama—”

  “You’re not my mama, Peaches.”

  He didn’t miss Peaches’ almost invisible flinch, but she hid it so quickly that it could’ve never happened at all. Peaches called them her boys with such pride in her voice. But the story Livingston told made him understand his reaction. The harshness of his tone.

  “Don’t be mean. I’ll call Lily.”

  “Now who the fuck is being mean?”

  “If our daughter’s first word is fuck, you’re grounded from Uncle time,” Saint warned.

  “She loves me; you wouldn’t do that to her.”

  He smiled as Sin and Saint collapsed in defeat.

  “We have to get home.”

  Livingston handed Elisabeth over after he gave her another gentle squeeze.

  “Everything planned?” Peaches asked

  “We’re good to go. Linus is going to bring in a few guys to help with the plan. Gibson is on duty at the firehouse that day.”

  “You’re already corrupting the new Chief?”

  “Not my area, talk to Linus, Freddie, and Horace—”

  “Those two boys have no sense. How they’ve survived until now fucking amazes me and you’re putting them on a mission?”

  “They’ll be fine. We need muscle, and they have plenty of those. That’s if we can get them out of the woods for it. If not, I have a few others I can call.”

  Livingston avoided further argument as he steered him from the room and toward the elevator. He was nervous about the plan. The possibility of it being over after a year of uneasiness overwhelmed him with relief, but it also disappointed that his time with Livingston grew to a close.

  Twelve

  Obsession is the Name of the Game

  A week had passed since the meeting, and the plan was as perfect as it was going to get. He’d kept his distance from Fielding as much as he could. Holding his boy as he slept, and the touches and teasing were as far as he’d allow himself to go. That tortured him, but it gave him memories for when Fielding went back to his real life.

  Those were experiences he’d never have again. He couldn’t reconcile his desire for Fielding and his need to protect his boy from—him. He was too fucked up for innocent Fielding.

  He leaned back against the counter in his kitchen and sipped at his coffee, inhaled the strong scent and exhaled slowly. Fielding was curled up in his usual spot on the couch. Was his obsession with Fielding any better than the stalker after him? His brain and body screamed Fielding was his and no one else’s. The thought of another man putting his hands on Fielding caused rage to course through his veins.

  Tomorrow he’d walk Fielding across the main street of Powers and put the plan into motion. If it worked as they hoped, Fielding would be back on a plane to Los Angeles and away from him.

  “I’ve gained weight since I’ve been here,” Fielding announced without looking up from the script.

  “You haven’t gained a fucking pound.”

  “My jeans were tight this morning.”

  “Come here.”

  He ordered and knew Fielding wouldn’t disobey. He twisted slightly and set his mug on the counter.

  Fielding set the script aside, eased the leather jacket from his lap, and stood. His boy made his way to the kitchen and stood in front of him.

  Against his better judgment, he grabbed the hem of Fielding’s shirt and slowly lifted it, keeping his gaze on Fielding’s. His knuckles grazed Fielding’s warm, smooth skin. Fielding started to drop his gaze.

  “No, you know the rules, don’t look away from me.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good boy. You’re so fucking beautiful, and you don’t even know it. That has nothing to do with your weight or what size you wear.” He removed the soft cotton of Fielding’s t-shirt and tossed it aside.

  He moved Fielding a few steps away from him. He was at his point of no return. There was no way he could deny himself at least one night of possessing Fielding’s body. It was a bastard move, but he craved Fielding’s first time.

  “Daddy,” Fielding said as he moved with the slowness reserved for approaching feral animals.

  He wrapped his thickly muscled arms completely around Fielding and tugged him flush to his body. He loved the slim lines of Fielding’s frame. The way Fielding fit perfectly against him. His cock hardened.

  “Yes, boy?”

  “May I have a kiss?”

  His chest vibrated with a growl. He loved the needy expression in Fielding’s pretty blue eyes. He raised his hand, and his fingertips pushed against Fielding’s chin, tilted his head up and back. His boy held his breath as he waited, he drew out the moment heightening the anticipation. His gaze was locked on Fielding’s mouth, and his dick hardened against Fielding’s soft stomach. He wanted to know what it felt like inside Fielding.

  “What’s wrong, boy?”

  “I don’t know what to expect and that scares me.”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever played with you before. Kissed every inch of this beautiful body. Teased your ass with fingers or tongue.”

  “No,” Fielding croaked.

  He felt like a bastard at the pleasure he took in the edge of fear and embarrassment in Fielding’s sweet voice.

  Fielding heavily sighed as his hard mouth came down on Fielding’s. He kept the caresses gentle as he nipped and sucked at the curves of Fielding’s lips, flicked his tongue to the corners. He sensed the moment Fielding gave in to his control and experience. A faint whimper escaped Fielding, and he tugged him closer. Their chests were pressed so closely together that he could feel the rapid beat of Fielding’s heart against his.

  His thick fingers fisted in Fielding’s hair and winched his boy’s head back. He looked down at Fielding's face to find his boy staring up at the ceiling. Part of him wished he could leave a mark—something to prove Fielding belonged to him. That was an asshole Alpha move, and he wouldn’t do that to his boy. In the end, he wasn’t keeping Fielding, but if he was, he’d mark his boy in a heartbeat.

  “Fuck, boy, the things I want to do to you.” He growled and ran the tip of one finger down the center of Fielding’s chest, over the slight softness of his stomach, and stopped at Fielding’s waistband.

  Fielding bit his lip as his thumb stroked along Fielding’s jaw. Fielding was stiff against him and avoided looking in his eyes. He’d already told his boy not to look away from him, and he wasn’t going to repeat himself. He lifted his hand to wrap around the front of Fielding’s throat, not enough to cut off his breathing but enough to make sure Fielding brought his attention back to him.

  The moment of truth was there and would tell him if he should let his boy go or if Fielding would get fucked.

  “Do you want to hear the rules? Be careful how you answer, little man, because if you say yes there’s no going back. I will use you how I see fit. I’ll gag you with my cock until pretty tears are streaming down your face. You’ll take my cock when and where I say. Your ass will be so sore from spankings and fucking until you’ll remember me every time you move…sit down. I’ll own you, and there’s
no going back.”

  Fielding instantly tensed, he sensed the fear, but Fielding’s cock was harder against his. A no was all it would take. He may be a beast but no always meant no. Even if he were balls deep, he’d stop the minute his boy told him.

  “Do you want to make your Daddy happy, baby?”

  Fielding’s eyes glazed over and he felt his boy’s hard swallow against his palm. His boy nodded, but that still wasn’t good enough.

  “Now do you want to hear Daddy’s rules for his boy? Use your words, Fielding.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what? I want to hear you say it.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He kept his mouth barely an inch from Fielding’s. He’d thought about this for so long, weeks of waiting and being good—doing what was expected. The teasing and touching were going no further than keeping him and Fielding on edge. His jeans were strangling his painfully hard cock. He’d never wanted someone as much as he did Fielding and his lust was inappropriate for the situation. Fielding was under his protection.

  “So sweet, untouched. Rule one: No one touches you without my permission, I don’t care who it is.”

  “Yes,” Fielding whimpered so sweetly.

  He arched his scarred brow and again tightened his hand around Fielding’s tender throat.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “You’re always to trust me to know what’s best. I’ll ask your opinion, but I get the final say.”

  “Like with the candy?”

  “Yes. You will always be ready to make Daddy happy either with your mouth or ass.”

  “I’ve never—”

  “I know that, and it’s my job to teach you how to please me.”

  He didn’t know what fantasies Fielding had had in the past, but what he wanted to do to the boy wasn’t going to be the romantic notions he was sure the boy had.

  “I’m going to fuck you and nothing else, do you understand, boy?”

  A flash of what he assumed was hurt flared in Fielding’s eyes, but he needed the boy to understand the limits—that their time together was limited. There wouldn’t be a happy ever after at the end of the road. He lied to himself and Fielding, he wanted to keep the boy, but he wasn’t going to be selfish. He put the thoughts out of his head and concentrated on making his boy’s first time something Fielding would remember long after he put Fielding back on that plane.