Unraveling Malcolm (Rebels and Nerds Book 2)

by R. Cayden

  “Who lives here?” I wondered out loud.

  Gunner shrugged, then removed his leather jacket and tossed it on the kitchen counter. “Some rich asshole from Seattle who fancies himself a badass, probably. You know how rich people like to pretend they’re something special.”

  I thought about my family and how serious they acted about every little detail of our lives. “That’s true,” I agreed.

  Gunner walked over to the fridge, rummaging around until he pulled out a couple of beers. “This thing is unplugged, and the bottles are warm. You want a drink anyway?”

  I shook my head quickly. It was one thing to break into the place, but I didn’t know that I was comfortable stealing, too. “I’m fine.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, twisting the top off and taking a drink. After a second, he pulled out his cigarettes, too, lighting one inside.

  I opened my mouth to object but realized it was probably useless. “So what now?”

  Gunner grinned, leaning back on the counter. “Come on, Malcolm. You’re a smart guy. What do you think is next?”

  I had a lot of ideas, actually, fantasies that had been brewing the entire trip. Most of them started with me on my knees in front of Gunner or with Gunner bossing me around and teasing me, but there was no way in hell I was going to share any of those. Even when I got a little intimate with guys I dated, I kept my more submissive desires hidden, sticking to vanilla fun. “Maybe we can relax on the porch?” I said weakly. “There’s a hammock.”

  Gunner studied me up and down, then licked his lips. “How about a little game instead?”

  “What game?”

  “Truth or dare.”

  I scoffed, nervous about where that could go. “What, are we in high school?”

  “Are you saying you don’t like it when I dare you to do something? Because I’m pretty sure you’re eating that right up.”

  I dropped down into one of the leather couches, letting out a puff of air when I landed. “Fine,” I said. “But you first. Truth or dare, Gunner.”

  Gunner’s face lit up. “Dare.”

  Of course he would start with dare. As I watched him flick ash from his cigarette into the sink, I racked my brain, trying to think of some dare that would impress him. But what would Gunner be scared of doing? He didn’t seem intimidated by a damn thing, and I doubted I had the ability to come up with something risky enough to make the game fun for him.

  “Okay,” I said. “I dare you to take your shirt off.”

  Gunner chuckled. “Starting off slow, okay.” He set his cigarette on the edge of the sink, then grabbed the bottom of his shirt. Keeping eye contact with me, he slowly tugged it up. I watched as the V of his hips emerged, then the taut muscles of his abs. When he pulled the shirt over his chest, I saw the swirl of faint, curly hairs around his nipples and a tattoo of a bird skull on his ribs. Finally popping the shirt off entirely, Gunner leaned back against the counter, posing and flexing to give me a good look.

  I gulped. His muscles were ropey, even on his slim frame, and the more he kept shooting me that cocky glare, the more I felt like I was gawking.

  “Truth or dare,” he said.

  “Truth,” I said immediately, nervous about losing my clothes. My cock was already stiffening just by looking at his chest hair.

  Gunner stubbed out his cigarette, then walked over to the couch with his beer. “Who are you scared of disappointing?” he asked, plopping down on the couch. “Why are you always so prim and proper?”

  I felt my cheeks warming with embarrassment. Prim and proper. I couldn’t disagree with that assessment. Sighing, I reached out, taking the beer from his hand and sipping from the bottle before returning it. “My parents are very strict,” I said. “They always have been.”

  “What does that mean? Strict? You live on your own, Malcolm. How could your parents still be in charge of your life?”

  It was so difficult to explain, but at least chatting meant that Gunner wasn’t daring me to do something embarrassing. “They just kind of raised me to be this way. I never had any downtime when I was a kid, and no privacy either. Every minute of my day was scheduled, from the second I woke up until my last private piano lesson or French tutoring in the evening. I had to keep my room immaculate, and my mom would come in twice a week and poke around, just to make sure I wasn’t hiding anything.” I sighed. “They have a lot of expectations for me.”

  “I still don’t get it. It’s not like they pay your rent or anything now. Why do you still have to worry about them?”

  “I wish they paid my rent,” I muttered. “Then I wouldn’t be trapped in this apartment.”

  Gunner threw his arm over the back of the couch. “You say the word. I’ll take care of those landlords for you.”

  I scoffed. “How are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll rob the realty office or something. Get all your money back for you.”

  “Please don’t,” I said quickly, realizing he might actually do something like that. “It won’t help anything.”

  “Some asshole real estate types, messing with my Malcolm here? They’ll be lucky if I don’t come through with my guns blazing.”

  I felt a tingle in my gut when he said that part. My Malcolm. And gosh darn it if the idea of him robbing the realty office didn’t make me feel something special, too. Not that I could actually tolerate someone doing that for me, but the fantasy sure was nice.

  “Truth or dare,” I said, eager to move on before he decided to find a gun and show me his shooting skills. “Your turn.”

  “Truth,” he said. “But make it interesting.”

  “What about your family?” I asked. “Were they nice? Did your mom snoop in your bedroom like my mom did?”

  Gunner sucked in a deep breath. Without a shirt on, I could see the way his chest rose and fell unsteadily. “Fuck that,” he said quickly. “My mom was the best, though. She always stood up for me, and she always believed in me, even when I was acting like a royal fuck-up. My dad used to rummage through my room looking for booze and stuff, but my mom would never do something like that. She just talked to me like a real person, you know? She could be pretty critical if I was doing something stupid, but she always trusted me, too.” He took another drink of his beer. “Even when I got myself in trouble, she still believed in me.”

  I noticed that he kept using the past tense to refer to her. No wonder his eyes were glazed over a little when I brought it up. “She’s not around anymore?”

  “Nah, but it’s okay,” he said quickly. “She passed years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said, reaching out and taking his hand. I squeezed gently, and he squeezed back before tugging his hand away.

  “Life is shit,” he said, trying to brush it all off. “No use dwelling over it. Now it’s your turn, though. Truth or dare.”

  I guess it was the tremble in his voice when he talked about his mom that did it to me. Gunner looked like he was actually sharing something vulnerable with me, even though I could tell he was still hiding most of the story. If he could take a risk to share something like that with me, I wanted to return the favor.

  “Okay,” I said, adjusting my glasses nervously. “Dare.”

  GUNNER

  Thank god he chose dare because another ten minutes of sharing stories from our childhood and I was going to run back to my truck.

  I thought carefully about the dare. I wanted to play with him a little and enjoy how fucking cute he looked when he was outside of his comfort zone. I also needed to go gentle and draw him out one step at a time. I knew that if he got too uncomfortable, the fun would be over, and he’d probably demand I take him back to the city.

  Rain starting falling outside, the wind picking up as drops splattered against the giant windows. Remembering that there was a lot more house to explore still, I decided to get him started.

  “I dare you to explore the rest of the house,” I said.

  “To explore the
house?” he said, glancing up at the second floor.

  “In your underwear,” I added.

  Malcolm swallowed, then tugged at the collar of his sweater. “Really?”

  I took in a deep breath of air. I could practically taste his nervousness on my lips. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell you to get naked,” I teased.

  He covered his face with his hands, squirming a little against the couch. When he pulled his hands away again, I saw his lips scrunched up like when we first met.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I promise to only stare a little bit.”

  “Thanks a lot,” he mumbled. After taking another second to steady himself, he rose to his feet in front of me.

  I leaned back against the couch, spreading my legs as I watched him nervously begin to undress. He was so damn pretty doing it, his elegant fingers moving slowly as they removed his shoes and socks first. He pulled his sweater off, then the plain white t-shirt beneath it, and my cock started to grow as I saw the curve of his hips and the dark buttons of his nipples, hard against his golden skin. His hands trailed down to his pants, and as he nervously licked his lips, he flicked the top button open.

  “Here goes nothing,” he whispered to himself, then shoved his pants to the ground, kicking them off quickly.

  “Damn,” I said. “You are one sexy guy, Malcolm.”

  He wore a pair of red boxer briefs, short and tight enough to give me a full view of his cock. Already rock hard in his underwear, his shaft looked thick, but not too long. The tip of it was straining against the red fabric. He looked cut, but just as quickly, his hands folded over his crotch, obscuring my view.

  “Hey,” I teased, “you’re hiding the second best part.”

  He blinked. “Second best part?”

  I reached forward, stroking his backside with a finger. His butt was round and full, like a piece of ripe fruit, and he quivered from head to toe when I touched him there.

  Malcolm’s hands fidgeted in front of his hard cock while he glanced around the place. “Okay, so now I explore,” he said, as much to himself as to me. “Now I just leave my clothes here, and I go exploring.”

  “That’s right,” I said, standing up. I let my hands fall against my crotch, making sure he noticed my hard bulge. “Lead the way.”

  He started for the stairs first, and I got another good, long look at his ass while he walked up. His cheeks swayed back and forth while his bare feet padded on the steps, and I followed, taking deep breaths of his soapy scent and imagining how delicious he would taste if I got a chance to settle down and give him a long rimjob. When we got to the top of the stairs, he turned to meet my eyes again, his hands still folded over his erection.

  “Stop hiding the goods,” I teased, placing my hand on top of his. He shuddered from the touch, and when I withdrew my hand, he let his arms fall to his side.

  “There must be a light around here,” he said abruptly, turning away from me to find the switch. When he flipped it on, I saw the oversized bed, covered in flannel sheets. There was a small office to the side, as well as a second bathroom. The view looking over the mountains was amazing, with a few different peaks visible in the distance.

  Malcolm opened the closet door, then glanced around the corner to the office. Turning back to me, his hands twitched at his side, and I knew how desperate he was to cover himself. “Looks like we explored the whole thing,” he said. “So I’ll go back to my clothes now.”

  Before he could head to the stairs, I dropped down on the bed, stretching my arms over my head and enjoying the sound of the rain splattering harder against the windows. “Why not play the next round up here?” I asked. “I’ll choose dare.”

  Malcolm stared down at me, his lip still trembling. “You choose dare?”

  “Dare,” I repeated.

  “Okay,” he said, stepping closer to the bed.

  “And make it interesting,” I interrupted. “Impress me, Malcolm.”

  He kept staring, and I thought for a minute I might have freaked him out too much. I knew he was out of his zone in some major ways, and here I was, acting as casual and cocky as ever.

  Then Malcolm fell to his knees on the bed. My legs were spread wide, one on either side of him. I flicked open the button on my jeans and watched as his eyes traced the outline of my cock, his tongue darting across his lips greedily.

  “I dare you to kiss me,” he said finally.

  I leaned up on my elbows, and he leaned a little more forward.

  The house was so quiet, and the woods were so dark from the rain clouds, it truly did feel like we were in a world all of our own. I didn’t have much to offer Malcolm, but I had the guts to bring us here. With Seattle far away and the evening stretching out ahead, I fully intended to enjoy the rest of our stolen time.

  I placed my hand on the back of his head, then pulled him down close. He let out a whimper as his weight fell against my chest. As I pulled him into the kiss, I wrapped my leg around his, grinding my body as I flipped him onto his back.

  And then Malcolm and I began kissing. His tongue found my teeth, and I nibbled back, biting down just hard enough to make him writhe a little harder against my grinding cock. I tasted him, and when our tongues met, they danced so slowly, I could have gone on kissing him forever.

  Thunder crashed outside, and Malcolm moaned as he wiggled into my arms. I pushed him a little harder against the mattress, and he trembled with pleasure in response. With every stroke of my fingers or nibble on his lip, Malcolm gave himself over to me.

  And then, in a house that felt like it was our own, we kept kissing.

  We kept kissing as though we couldn’t dare to stop.

  Chapter Ten

  Maddox

  By the time I got back to the mountains where I lived, a hell of a storm was brewing. Wind gusted through the trees, rain flew sideways in the air, and lightning crashed every few minutes.

  I pulled up to the gate outside the community, eager to get off the road for good. There was a truck parked to the side of the gate, which was unusual. I figured it meant the steep roads inside had gotten slick from rain, although it was strange to have someone in such an old, beaten vehicle at the pricy gated community.

  Rain splattering the visor of my helmet, I remembered how empty the fridge must be in the house after two months of my absence. I hated driving on those steep mountain roads in a rainstorm, but a part of me considered turning around and heading to the closest corner store anyway. I had a carton of eggs and some bacon in my bag for the next morning, but if I stocked up, I’d be able to barricade myself in the house for a few days. I could get back to my welding, take some nice hikes around the property, and enjoy the quiet of living so far from the city.

  Then another crash of lightning exploded above me, and my heart skipped a beat when a giant branch fell in the middle of the road, about fifty feet behind me.

  Maybe home is the smarter option after all.

  I kicked down the stand, then headed over to the gate, typing the security code into the box. When it swung open, I pushed my motorcycle through, closing it carefully behind me. The branch in the road looked substantial, almost like a small tree, and I knew it would take the county at least a couple of days to get up there to clear it. Thinking of my chainsaw waiting in the toolshed, I made a silent promise to tend to it the next day.

  Riding my bike slowly up the road, I thought about how good a hot shower would feel and how luxurious the flannel sheets would be after a couple of months on the road. When I had been a kid, the vacation home had seemed just as spoiled as everything else my family owned. I couldn’t think about it without remembering my father’s hypocrisy and all the people he exploited to pay for the property. When he put it in my name after I turned eighteen, I hadn’t even cared about the place. Back then, I was too obsessed with burning my life down to see anything else.

  Luckily, over time, I had gotten my head on straight. Just because my parents were awful didn’t mean I had to act out, and just because the
house held depressing memories didn’t mean I couldn’t fill it with new ones.

  Cruising slowly between the towering trees, I was relieved to have made it this far in the first place. I had always pictured myself dying in a blaze of glory before I turned thirty, and god damn it if I didn’t try. I probably would have gone acting like a tough guy forever, but then I had a run-in with an older barfly at the dive where Declan used to work. The stranger had silver hair, a mean glare, and more scars than I could count. The evening I ran my last job with Declan, me and that gruff barfly had polished off a few pitchers of beer and shared battle stories, comparing close calls and thrilling escapes until I couldn’t see straight.

  I told that man some truths I hadn’t even admitted to myself. I told him that I hated the feeling of stealing from my family and that I regretted so many of the choices I had made.

  And then he leveled with me. The third pitcher nearing the bottom, he told me about the friend of his who got a life sentence and the sobering moment when he decided to leave the game behind. You keep thieving and running wild for long enough, you forget why you started in the first place, he told me.

  And godamn if I hadn’t forgotten. Back when I was an angry teen, I couldn’t tell my father what I really thought, but I could piss him the hell off by dragging the family name through the dirt and embarrassing everyone on the way. Being a black sheep gave me freedom when I couldn’t find any other way to escape the life my father was building for me.

  But years later, when I was nearing thirty and still raising hell, those excuses didn’t hold anymore.

  I was a different man now, with a different life ahead of me. And as another crash of thunder shattered the evening, I was just glad to have a home to return to.

  Turning the last bend, I smiled to see my house. At the top of the hill, it looked like a beacon, shining in the night. I stared at the vision for a solid minute, just smiling to myself while the rain pelted against my leather jacket.