Bad Boy

by Elliot Wake

  “Tam,” I whispered. “You don’t have to.”

  “Ren,” she whispered back. “I want to suck your cock. Objections?”

  I stared at her. Bit my lip. Shook my head.

  “Good lad. Lie back.”

  I did.

  Slowly, softly, she took me in her mouth, and it felt like lightning bursting in my belly, my spine plugging into an electric socket. I gripped the sheet, twisted. Groaned through my teeth. Felt her chuckle, her breath on my wet cock like a current surge. For a while it was pure euphoria, no nuance in sensation. Then it shifted and I felt my hardness in her mouth, fucking it gently, the way she ran her tongue up the shaft and circled the head. Every motion sent a shock of ecstasy through me. Intensity built endlessly on itself, rising and rising. I’d never done this with anyone after transition. Hadn’t known how it would feel. When I looked down at Tamsin with her eyes closed and my dick in her mouth, I felt like a fucking god. Not half anything. Full man. My cock was iron hard, huge, and she looked so pretty as she sucked it. I was not going to last. Tried to stop her but she glanced up and the lust-drunk look in her eyes was too much. I thrust a hand in her hair, rocked into her mouth, all of my tension and strength radiating inward to one explosive moment of utter bliss, and when my mind drifted back down from the ceiling I stroked her hair, soft, slow, the way she’d started.

  Tamsin climbed up to my chest, nestled against it. I cradled her face in my hands.

  “Ms. Baylor,” I said.

  “Mr. Grant.”

  “You’re fucking amazing.”

  She rose over me, her hair tickling my face. I took her breasts in my palms. Even though I’d just come I felt that rev of desire deep in my core.

  “Your turn,” I said.

  “No.” She kissed me. Firm, but she stopped before it became ardent. “Tonight is yours. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I want to make you come.”

  “You will.” Her grin shone in the darkness. “But I’m giving you this. This is how it feels when a girl wants you so badly she’ll suck your cock and not ask a thing in return.”

  My eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”

  “You’re killing me a bit, too. But I like it. So don’t stop.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, and together we stared through the muslin curtains at the broken, falling sky.

  ———

  In the morning light she was unreal. Dark legs sprawling, draped in the cream silk sheet. Curls spread on the pillow in a thousand spirals of ink. I propped myself on an elbow, admiring. My own body intertwined with hers seemed impossible. This whole life seemed impossible. When she shifted I pulled her closer, her skin cool on mine, and she turned in my arms. Fingers ran over my lips, my jaw. I let her touch. Then she pressed my hand between her breasts, to the soft thrash of her heart.

  “This is how I feel,” she said, “when I look at your face.”

  That deserved a kiss.

  We both tasted like rum and sex. My scent was all over her, and smelling it on her skin made me hard. She smiled lazily and pressed her face to my chest and inhaled.

  “God, you make me feel drunk,” she said.

  I held her down, my body flexing against hers. Tamsin ran her hands over my bare back, sculpting the muscles with her fingertips. Her hips rose to meet me but I pulled up. Nails carved the hard ridges of my obliques.

  “Torturer,” she said.

  I rolled off the bed, taking the sheet.

  Tamsin squawked in protest.

  I wrapped the sheet around my waist and went to gaze out at the city. The snow had stopped, but white film lay on everything that faced the sky. Out on the oil-blue lake the ice had split like cracked glass, and the sun glanced off it in knives of pure light. A glittering, beautifully wrecked world.

  Tam came to stand beside me. I looked at her a long moment, and she stood undaunted. No discomfort in her own skin. I slid my arms around her, nuzzled at her neck.

  “What do we do with the rest of our lives?” I said.

  “Stay in this room.”

  We did, for a while anyway. Kissed each other raw and bruised. Worked up a fire to fuck and then stopped, cooled, started over. I kept the sheet on, still not comfortable being nude in full daylight. She didn’t seem to mind. We wrestled across the bed, again and again returning to my body over hers, my weight pinning her down, and her eyes hooded and her legs spread and I knew she wanted to be fucked. I wanted to give it to her, but not like this. Not yet.

  There were things to do.

  A girl to confront.

  A man to kill.

  And whatever would become of me after.

  Tamsin’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. She sat up, and I watched seriousness spread over her face.

  “It’s Laney.”

  My heart squeezed. “What does she want?”

  “To talk to you. Since you apparently blocked her number.”

  The magic of last night began to fade. “I’ll talk if she’s ready to come clean. If she’ll do the right thing about Adam. Otherwise, she can go fuck herself.”

  Tam frowned. “Perhaps it’s best I speak to her first.”

  “And say what?”

  “Negotiate.”

  “I’m not negotiating, Tamsin. I will not compromise on this. I can’t.” I touched her hand. “She’s out to ruin my fucking life. She’s involving the man who hurt me. No fucking compromises.”

  Tamsin turned her back, pulling her bra on. “Let me bloody talk to her.”

  I watched her dress and tried my damnedest not to be a paranoid, hypersensitive asshole. But when she bent to kiss me before leaving, I leaned away.

  “Right, then,” she said flatly.

  At the door she glanced over her shoulder.

  “Good luck, Cress,” I said.

  ———

  Even though I had the key, I rang the buzzer. No answer.

  Bell meowed hello when I opened the door. I scratched her head, my nose wrinkling at the staleness of old smoke. Fucking Ingrid and her cigarettes.

  Where was she, anyway?

  Empty sink, garbage neatly bagged. Everything in its right place. It was like walking through her mind, the rigidity and cleanliness crushing. Except for those toxic fumes.

  I wandered toward her bedroom.

  I don’t know what drew me—maybe that sixth sense we had. Inside she sat at her vanity, a miniature red eye floating in the darkness beside her. She was so still my heart hurtled into my throat.

  “Ingrid.”

  In the mirror her face was a pale blur, an eraser mark. She was watching me.

  I moved closer. Reached out and snatched the cigarette from her hand, skimming her fingers. First time we’d touched since that fucked-up kiss.

  I snuffed the cherry out. “These will kill you.”

  “Everything’s killing us.”

  One of those Ingrid moods. As I straightened she grabbed my wrist, slim white fingers hard as bone.

  “Was she good?” Inge said hoarsely. “Did she suck it for you?”

  “Don’t be like this.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To see if you’re okay, creep.”

  She let go, laughing, humorless.

  Then her smile fell. She said, “Someone’s been watching me.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Little things. There’s always someone at the end of the block, wherever I go. I get goose bumps when I’m out in public.” She stared at the embers in the ashtray. “Before you came, I heard footsteps in the stairwell. I turned out the lights to see if they’d come in.”

  My hackles stirred. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “I think it’s your girlfriend.”

  “What?” Instinctively I glanced into the hall. “That’s nuts.”

  “Remember how I thought I’d seen her somewhere before that night with the bouquet? I was right. I’ve seen her everywhere—getting coffee, or on the train, or browsing a store w
ith me. She’s been following me for months, too. Like she did with Adam.”

  “Ingrid.” Believe her. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. She’s with them. Laney and her friends. They’re trying to turn you against me.”

  “You’re the only one who’s turning me against you.” I sighed. “We’ll figure this out once we’re safe. Let’s just fucking go.”

  “She’ll come back. Wait with me, and you’ll see.”

  I started to tell her this was absurd. I started to use words she’d used on me: paranoid, hypersensitive, overreacting.

  Then I remembered the nights I’d come home crying, battered. First by him. Later, by strangers.

  How she’d believed my version of events. No question.

  “Okay,” I said. “I have an idea.”

  I left out the front door.

  It was later than I realized, the snow-fringed streets empty. Brake lights splashed sudden blots of color on the asphalt, neon blood splatter. As if someone were wounding the city. My footsteps echoed too loudly in the L station, and the echo sounded uncannily like a chase. I kept looking over my shoulder. The Beretta was on me. Every now and then, as if quieting a racing heart, I touched it.

  When the train came I got on and rode it for one stop, then walked back home.

  In the alley behind the building small footprints dotted the snow.

  It could have been anyone. But I didn’t think it was.

  I climbed the fire escape, remembering that first night. Silently lifted the kitchen window Ingrid had unlocked. Took my boots off, tucking them into a cabinet.

  In the shadows two bright green discs flashed at me.

  I stroked Bell’s head, praying she wouldn’t cry out. She rubbed against my palm, purring.

  Voices in the apartment.

  I crept toward Ingrid’s room.

  “What do you want?” I heard her say.

  Tam tsked. “Some hospitality would be nice.”

  “You broke into my apartment. You scared the shit out of me. For all I knew, you were Adam.”

  “You knew I wasn’t Adam,” Tam said acidly.

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  “I don’t like a bloody thing about you. Give me your mobile.”

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  Something clicked. “No, you’re not. Give me. Your mobile.”

  My hand went to the Beretta again.

  No fucking way. They might barely be able to stand each other, but Tamsin wouldn’t hurt Ingrid.

  Would she?

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Inge said. “You’re the one who’s been following me.”

  “Well done. Ten points to Slytherin.” A creak, floorboards shifting under weight. “We have everything we need. Except for one last jigsaw piece. Which I think you’re daft enough to have saved on your mobile.”

  I pressed myself flat beside the door frame. My heart was so loud I could hardly hear over it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do, love.” Another creak. “Now hand it to me. I’d hate to spoil that pretty face.”

  The gun slid out of my coat, cold in my hand. Shaking.

  Was she really about to make me do this?

  Tamsin, why?

  No, not Tamsin. Cressida.

  “Don’t touch me,” Ingrid said.

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  My pulse thumped louder. I flicked the safety.

  “Get the fuck off of me.”

  “You really don’t want to fight me, love. You’ll lose.”

  I edged into the doorway.

  Tam’s back was to me, Ingrid towering over her, but willowy, lanky, no match for her opponent’s strength. The gun was half-raised. Ingrid met my eyes.

  Then jerked her chin up and said, “You’re faking me out. You won’t actually hurt me.”

  I could read that sign anywhere. Did she think I’d forget?

  Fake-out play.

  Instantly I knew what to do.

  I holstered the gun and ran on tiptoe to the front door. Rattled the locks noisily, flung the door open and slammed it and called, “I’m back. Forgot something.”

  I gave them time to de-escalate. Pretended to stub my toe, knock books off a shelf. If I hadn’t been listening I’d have missed the faint screech of the kitchen window, the flex and groan of wrought iron steps.

  Ingrid came running into the kitchen.

  Down in the alley, a shadow slid over the snow, vanished. Blood banged furiously in my ears.

  “What the fuck was that?” I said.

  Ingrid answered, “Betrayal.”

  ———

  In the hotel that night, Tamsin said, “Fuck me.”

  Something cruel kicked through my veins.

  We kissed in the elevator. And the hall. And on the bureau, where I stripped her pants off and she unzipped mine. Half-clothed, my cock hot in my hand. There was enough light from the shining skyscrapers and the lingering snow to see my scars, my seams, my imperfections. But she wrapped her legs around me, brought herself against the head, and I gave it to her, hard. We both bared our teeth, the relief of it also an anguish. I’d wanted this so badly. Since the first night we fought, our bodies falling into natural rhythm, violent grace. I slid inside and watched her hold me as I withdrew. Deeper each time, her wetness gleaming higher on my cock, until she stopped pulling me in hungrily and instead went soft, submitting. Let me fuck her. Let me fill her. She clutched my ear to her mouth and whispered, “Does it feel good?” and I answered by thrusting deeper, our hips touching, my abs tight and my thighs braced and every bit of strength in me surging to one point. I didn’t feel the packer pressing on my real dick anymore. In my head, it was all me. All one whole. Just a boy fucking the shit out of a girl. Tamsin cried out as I hammered her and a small, vile part of me hoped it hurt. For what she did to Ingrid. For what she was doing to me. The first girl I fucking trusted, a liar. Betrayer. But when she came she held me deep, clawed my back, our movements aligned so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. She rode me a little longer, grimacing but not stopping, and I couldn’t look at her face without my heart going liquid. I couldn’t hurt her, not outside the bounds of mutual consent. Whatever monster I was, it was not that kind. So I kept fucking her, tenderly, till the last aftershock faded and she went still in my arms.

  We held each other, our skin polished with moonlit sweat. It felt like one unbroken act, from the moment she pulled the gun on Ingrid to this. One long, violent fuck.

  Tamsin stroked my face. Shadows moved over those violet lips.

  “Are you all right?” she said.

  It was always this way. I cracked my rib cage open only to allow venom into my heart.

  I said nothing.

  “Lovely boy. You look so sad.”

  She kissed my face, my mouth. Pushed me to the bed and held me down, her body light on mine. Not long later we began again, insatiable.

  It felt so real. From a distance, it would look just like the real thing.

  A boy and a girl, falling in love.

  But all of this was mere illusion. Like me.

  ———

  For days I kept her busy. At her side, always. Not a moment to herself. Most of that time we touched, savaged each other, got off fast and rough and went back at it before our nerves had stopped buzzing. Later we wandered through the night-cloaked city, two restless ghosts. Drifting in and out of dark alleys, phantoms fading into the snow. I watched Umbra from afar and remembered a life that now seemed like someone else’s. Somewhere Adam was walking free while I was in exile. It made my marrow seethe. Made me want to annihilate something, someone. That urge twisted into libido and Tam let me shove her up against an alley wall, her hands braced on the brick and the lights from passing cars mixing on our skin, moon silver, electric blood red. When she came I clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her moans. Maybe I pressed harder than I needed to. It was only a matter of time until
we parted. Until Black Iris made their next move against me.

  If I had to face them all myself, I would.

  I thought about telling Ellis to skip town. Miss this showdown. But that would tip my hand.

  No. It didn’t have to be like that. No one else needed to get hurt.

  If Black Iris wanted to drag my carcass through their sordid little underworld, so be it.

  As long as they let the girls I loved go.

  ———

  “There’s something I must do today,” Tamsin said.

  Her words filled me with dread. I sat on her hotel bed, listening to the shower hiss. She was in the middle of undressing.

  Tam knew how to play a man. But I had eighteen years of not being utterly enslaved to my dick, and I knew how to avert my eyes.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “It’s a solo op, love.”

  If I pushed too hard, I’d give myself away. So I said, “Leaving me alone all day? I’ll miss you.”

  She shrugged out of her tee. Bra and panties only, bright white. She sauntered toward the bed, touched my face with her nails, lightly. Her mouth hovered over mine. When the nails dragged I thought of tiny hooks.

  “Join me in the shower,” she said.

  My whole lower body went tight, lifted toward her, but I said, “Got some errands to run, actually. Will you miss me?”

  She kissed me, more a collision of lips than a kiss. That iron resolve in me melted, another hardness taking its place.

  Then she pulled back, smiling. “Does that answer your question, Mr. Grant?”

  “Sort of, Ms. Baylor. If you could just clarify some of your points—”

  She glided into the bathroom with a laugh.

  How could we be so good together, I thought, when it was all a lie?

  As soon as she left eyeshot I grabbed my Beretta. Boots, coat, duffel bag.

  I wouldn’t be coming back.

  “Renard,” Tamsin called.

  Reluctantly I walked to the bathroom.

  She stood with a towel draped loosely over her shoulders like a stole. Naked beneath, beautiful in the soft light, tones of tobacco and clove glowing in her skin. Those large hazel eyes were full of irony and knowing.