“He looked nothing like you.”
“Then how is that relevant?”
“If you stop interrupting me, you’ll find out.” Rutledge’s lips curled. “He was the stereotypical popular jock. Obviously straight as an arrow and acted like he owned the world, and I wanted… I looked at him and imagined forcing my dick down his throat. Imagined holding him down and making him beg to be fucked. Making a straight boy beg for my cock.”
Shawn swallowed and glanced at the girls to make sure they were asleep. “Where are you going with this?”
Rutledge shrugged slightly, his eyes on the road. “Pretty, straight, and unattainable: that’s pretty much my type. If you let me fuck you, I’ll get bored of you. I always get bored of them.”
Shawn crossed his arms over his chest, feeling cold all of a sudden.
“Who’s done it to you?” he asked at last, looking at the passing countryside. It was getting dark.
“What?”
“Someone fucked you up.” Shawn turned his head to him. “It’s not healthy to enter into relationships knowing they’re doomed to fail—that you would lose interest in the guy after you fuck him. And it’s really fucked up to have straight, unattainable guys as your type. Are you afraid of commitment? Or of something else?”
Rutledge’s jaw was clenched so tightly that the cords on his neck stood out. “Spare me your pseudo-psychological analysis. The explanation is actually much simpler: I just like corrupting and fucking straight boys. It turns me on. And before you call me an asshole: I’m always honest with them. Most bi-curious ‘straight’ guys eventually want to go back to their straight lives anyway, and I don’t do long-term relationships. So it’s a win-win for everyone involved. No strings attached.”
“Why don’t you do long-term relationships? You’re thirty-three.”
“And?” Rutledge said. “I’m not the kind of man who wants the white picket fence and 2.5 kids.”
Shawn glanced at Emily and Bee. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I always thought gay guys weren’t much different from straight guys and would want to settle down eventually. Even Christian wants that.”
“Christian?” Rutledge looked slightly puzzled.
Shawn frowned. “My best friend?”
“Ah. You mean Ashford.”
“Seriously? You don’t know his name?”
“Why would I want to know his first name? He’s my student.”
“I’m your student, too, Professor.”
Rutledge looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Who says I know your first name, Wyatt?”
Shawn laughed softly. “Okay. For your information, it’s Simon.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“A-ha!”
Shaking his head, Rutledge looked back at the road. “I obviously know your name, but I don’t think of you as Shawn.”
“Fair enough. I don’t think of you as Derek, either.” Even saying the name aloud was a bit strange, actually. Shawn rolled the name on his tongue. Derek. Nope. Rutledge was Rutledge. Shawn would be very worried the day he started thinking of Rutledge as Derek.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” Rutledge murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Now come here and kiss me.”
Shawn blinked. “What? You’re driving.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Rutledge said dryly, without looking at him.
“Are you serious?”
“You should know by now I’m always serious. I’m losing my patience.”
Shawn looked at Rutledge’s lips and said, “Okay.”
He scooted over.
Rutledge turned his head slightly, put his hand on Shawn’s nape and kissed him. Shawn sighed and started sucking on Rutledge’s tongue.
After… some time later, Rutledge bit Shawn’s bottom lip for the last time and pushed him away.
“You should let me fuck you,” he said grimly.
Leaning back in his seat, Shawn wiped his wet, swollen lips and took a deep breath. His skin still burned from Rutledge’s stubble.
Chapter 8
It was dark by the time they arrived.
As they got out of the car, Shawn looked up at the house and said, not without humor, “Actually, now some things about you are starting to make a horrible amount of sense.” It was an almost laughable misnomer to call it a house. It was a vast mansion of classical design.
Bee clapped her hands in excitement. “A palace!”
“Don’t be stupid,” Emily said, her tone superior. “Kings and princesses live in palaces. Our country doesn’t have loyalty.”
“Royalty,” Rutledge corrected her, locking the car. “If you’re going to call someone stupid, make sure you don’t make mistakes yourself.”
Bee beamed at Rutledge and grabbed his hand. “I like you, Mr. Rutledge!”
Rutledge stared down at the tiny girl with a vaguely puzzled expression on his face, before looking at Shawn.
Suppressing a smile, Shawn said, “Leave Mr. Rutledge alone, Bee. Come on, take my hand.”
Bee pouted but let go of Rutledge’s hand and took Shawn’s. Emily took his other hand while a few servants came out to take their luggage inside.
“I don’t like him,” Emily said as they walked to the house.
“Don’t be rude, sweetie,” Shawn said, glancing at the man in question, who walked alongside them. “Mr. Rutledge can hear you.”
Rutledge’s eyes were focused on the house; he showed no sign of listening to the conversation.
Shawn averted his gaze. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, he had this immaculately dressed, stern-faced man grunting and moving on top of him.
“But I don’t like him,” Emily said stubbornly but lowered her voice. “Don’t like how he looks at you.”
“How he looks at me?” Shawn repeated.
“Like Bee looks at a pancake.”
Shawn forced out a smile. This was a whole new level of awkward. “You just imagined it, pumpkin.”
“But—”
“You just imagined it,” Shawn repeated, hoping Rutledge hadn’t heard Emily’s words.
Rutledge’s face was hard and cold, devoid of all color. This was a man who was coming home to his father and his family after fifteen years. He looked about as happy as a man on his way to jail.
A butler—a goddamn butler—opened the door and greeted Rutledge with a quiet, “Master Derek.”
Shawn led the girls inside. They looked shy and nervous, and Shawn had to admit he wasn’t any less nervous than them; he was simply better at disguising it.
His first impression of the hall was of vastness—of marble and pillars and classical busts and a towering dome.
“Derek!”
Shawn looked up. A tall dark-haired woman was walking down the stairs, a vaguely relieved smile on her lips. She hugged Rutledge and kissed him on the cheek.
“Vivian,” Rutledge murmured. “You look good.”
So this was the sister who had convinced him to come.
Shawn eyed her curiously. He could certainly see the family resemblance. She seemed a few years older than her brother, perhaps thirty-five.
Vivian pulled back and stared at Shawn and the girls over Rutledge’s shoulder, but before she or Shawn could say anything, two elderly men entered the house.
One of them, the taller one, bore an uncanny resemblance to Rutledge. In fact, they could have been twins if the man wasn’t about thirty years older. Shawn decided this must be Rutledge’s father, Joseph Rutledge.
“The prodigal son returns,” Joseph said with a sneer. “I knew this day would come.”
“Then you were wrong,” Rutledge said coldly. “I came only because Vivian wouldn’t stop nagging me. Apparently, you’re practically on your deathbed.”
“Derek!” Vivian said, looking outraged.
“I’ll have to disappoint you, then,” Joseph said. “I’m in excellent health.” He was lying. He had an almost gray tinge to his complexion. “So y
ou won’t get my money any time soon.”
“You know I don’t need your money,” Rutledge said.
They glared at each other icily, and the resemblance they shared was striking. Shawn wondered if Rutledge knew it and resented it.
At this moment, Joseph shifted his gaze to Shawn.
His sharp dark eyes swept over him from head to toe, making Shawn painfully aware of his worn out, cheap clothes.
Rutledge senior’s lips twisted in derision. “And this?”
Rutledge took a step toward Shawn and put a hand on his shoulder. “This is my lover, Shawn Wyatt.”
The other old man inhaled sharply.
Joseph’s face betrayed nothing, yet somehow, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a dozen degrees.
Shawn grimaced on the inside, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected that.
“Shawn, this is my father, Joseph Rutledge,” Rutledge said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. The asshole was absolutely enjoying this. “And my father’s old friend, Nathan Brooks.”
“Nice to meet you,” Shawn lied, wondering if Mr. Brooks was the man whose daughter Joseph wanted his son to marry.
“I see,” Joseph said at last before shifting his heavy gaze to the twins. “And these are?”
Shawn suppressed the urge to hide the girls behind his back. “These are my sisters, Mr. Rutledge. Emily and Melissa.” For once, Bee remained quiet and didn’t argue about her name. Both girls moved closer to Shawn.
“I see,” Joseph Rutledge said again before addressing a maid. “Prepare rooms for our guests.”
“Prepare a room next to mine for the children,” Rutledge cut in. “Obviously Shawn will stay in mine.”
Shawn cringed a bit.
The vein in Joseph’s temple throbbed. Vivian watched her father worriedly. Mr. Brooks had a look of disgust on his face that he didn’t bother to hide.
“Do as he says,” Joseph Rutledge bit out, breaking the silence. “Show them to their rooms. Dinner is in half an hour. Derek, a word.”
Shawn turned to follow the maid when a hand grabbed his arm and stopped him.
“I’ll see you shortly,” Rutledge said and gave him a brief kiss.
Or at least it was probably supposed to be a brief kiss, but Shawn found his lips clinging and parting, eager. He felt Rutledge’s surprise before Rutledge grabbed his neck and kissed him for real. The kiss seemed to go on forever.
By the time Rutledge finally pulled back, Shawn could barely breathe.
Shawn didn’t look around to see everyone’s reaction—he could well imagine it.
Grabbing the girls, he followed the maid.
His face was very warm.
Chapter 9
To say the dinner was awkward would be an understatement. It wasn’t just awkward: it was painful.
It was only ten minutes in and Shawn was already glancing at the grandfather clock on the wall.
The toxic atmosphere in the room was so thick it could be sliced. He’d never seen so much passive-aggressiveness between family members. Now Shawn was glad Emily and Bee hadn’t been allowed to eat with the adults.
The annoying part was, no one said anything outright; everything was carefully hidden behind bland smiles and polished manners. Andrew, Vivian’s husband, was the only one who seemed to be struggling to hide his dislike for his brother-in-law.
Rutledge didn’t pay Andrew much mind, though; his most cutting remarks were reserved for his father. Rutledge was rather infamous for his ruthlessness in college, but it was nothing compared to his nastiness towards his father. Shawn would have felt sorry for Joseph Rutledge if the old man wasn’t actually worse. Within the first ten minutes, Joseph had managed to insult everything from his son’s intelligence to his sexuality, his tone full of derision and contempt.
Watching them, Shawn was beginning to understand why Rutledge had left his home and hadn’t returned in fifteen years. He was also beginning to understand why Rutledge was such a control freak. His father’s personality was so domineering that he had likely developed the similar need to control everything as a defense mechanism.
“They do realize how much they’re alike, right?” Shawn murmured to Vivian, making sure that Rutledge, who sat on his other side, couldn’t hear him. Vivian seemed to be the only friendly face at the table.
She sighed. “I think that’s partly why they hate each other,” she murmured. “Though deep down, they care for one another.”
Shawn looked at the father and son sniping at each other and gave her a skeptical look.
Vivian smiled humorlessly. “I know, it’s hard to believe, but Father does care about Derek.” Her eyes became distant. “When we were kids, Father used to be very proud of him. I used to envy Derek. Things became…difficult when Father found out about Derek’s sexuality, but I’m sure he still cares. If he didn’t, he would have disowned him ages ago and cut him out of the will.” Glancing at her husband, she lowered her voice. “Andrew is really angry about it. He’s been working at the family company for years and thinks he deserves to inherit it.”
“Ah,” Shawn said. That explained Andrew’s animosity towards Rutledge.
Speaking of the man, Andrew chose that moment to turn to Shawn and ask, “So, do you work? Or does my brother-in-law pay your bills for spreading your legs for him?”
Silence dropped over the table, and Shawn felt himself flush.
He couldn’t believe Andrew had actually said that. And judging by the uncomfortable look that flashed over Andrew’s face, he couldn’t believe it, either. But then Andrew set his jaw, looking stubborn and determined: he might have regretted saying it, but he clearly wasn’t taking it back.
Shawn bit his lip, unsure what to say. Andrew’s words hit a bit too close to home. Of course no one here knew the nature of his relationship with Rutledge, but nevertheless, it made him feel embarrassed and humiliated. Shawn hadn’t completely come to terms with it himself, and now… he felt like a whore. It was ridiculous, but it was the first time he truly felt it. He hadn’t felt like a whore when he sucked Rutledge’s dick for money; he felt like a whore as he sat in this posh dining room with all these snobby people.
“Apologize.” Rutledge. It was spoken in a quiet, steely voice, but everyone in the room heard him.
Andrew glared at Rutledge. “Why would I? We all can see he’s poor and fucking you for—”
“You will apologize,” Rutledge said, his tone dangerously soft.
“Andrew, please,” Vivian said, awkwardly. “That was uncalled for—”
“Apologize,” Rutledge said again.
Joseph Rutledge was watching the exchange between his son and son-in-law like a hawk.
“It’s all right,” Shawn said lightly.
Rutledge ignored him and continued glowering at Andrew, who looked increasingly uncomfortable. “He will apologize or we’re leaving.”
Shawn thought it was an odd threat to make, because Andrew would be clearly delighted if they left, but Joseph Rutledge frowned. “Apologize, boy. No one insults my guests.”
Except for you, Shawn thought, not without humor.
Andrew said stiffly, “My apologies if I offended anyone. It wasn’t my intention.”
Rutledge didn’t look satisfied in the least, his body tense and eyes narrowed.
“If you must know,” Shawn told Andrew. “I’m a student, and I work part-time as a waiter. Yes, Derek pays most of my bills. I’m not ashamed of that. I’m lucky to have such a supportive, dependable partner.” He looked Andrew in the eye. “And if I ‘spread my legs for him,’ it has nothing to do with it, and it’s definitely none of your business.” Shawn raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure why you even brought it up, Andrew. Unless you’re envious.”
He smiled as the asshole’s face slowly turned red. Shawn didn’t even mind the stunned, awkward silence that descended upon the room. He picked up his fork and started eating again, ignoring everyone.
He could feel Rutledge’s gaze on him.
Shawn didn’t turn his head.
Chapter 10
Shawn spent a few hours playing with Emily and Bee after dinner.
When the twins were finally exhausted and fell asleep, Shawn returned to his—their—bedroom.
It was empty.
Unsure if he was relieved or disappointed, Shawn grabbed fresh clothes and took a long shower. He stood for a while with the water pouring over his naked body and thought of the fact that he was going to share a bed with Rutledge. All night.
Shawn looked down at his half-hard dick and sighed. This was all so confusing. Rutledge was a man. He was also one fucked up asshole. He couldn’t possibly be excited about sharing a bed with him.
Annoyed with his body, Shawn dried himself, dressed, and stepped back into the bedroom.
At first, he thought Rutledge was still elsewhere. Then he spotted a tall figure out on the balcony.
Slowly, Shawn made his way towards the door, slid it open and stepped out into the night. When the chilly air hit him, he shivered a little and wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm. It was still pretty warm for November, but it was not warm enough for one thin layer.
Rutledge had a cigarette in his hand. He didn’t turn his head.
Shawn leaned against the balcony railings, mirroring Rutledge’s posture. “He’s really ill, you know.”
He noticed the subtle stiffening of Rutledge’s shoulders only because he was watching him closely.
“Yes,” Rutledge said tonelessly. “He’s dying.”
Shawn couldn’t say he was surprised.
“I’m sorry.”
Shrugging, Rutledge took a long drag from his cigarette. “There’s no love lost between us.”
Shawn looked at the moon as it peeked out from the clouds. “When my parents died, they left huge debts. The house had to be sold to pay off creditors, so I ended up homeless, barely legal, and with two toddlers to care for. Sometimes I hate them. For dying, for being so irresponsible and putting me in this position.” He felt his throat thicken and had to swallow the lump. Breathing in the clear night air, he tilted his face upward to feel the breeze brush across his skin. “But I miss them. So fucking much.”
Just a Bit Twisted Page 5