by T. J. Klune
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he said with a rakish grin that I despised.
“No.” I took a step back. “Absolutely not. I won’t do this. I have some morals after all. Not a lot, but some. Okay, not really, but I’m going to try to have them right now. It’s my New Year’s resolution.”
“It’s October.”
“It’s never too late to start. I don’t want to do this with you. I don’t.”
Something flashed over his expression, something that I couldn’t quite make out, before he schooled his face into its usual cocky mask. He shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Doesn’t matter to me one way or another.” He turned and headed toward the stairs.
Good. This was good. I’d gotten the upper hand back. He would leave, and hopefully, I would never have to see him again.
“Just thought maybe this place meant more to you,” he called over his shoulder.
And fuck him. Fuck him for saying something like that to me. Because it was the truth. It was the only reason I had agreed with Mike to begin with (well, that and the money). And Darren knew that, knew exactly what to say to make me do what I did next. “Goddammit,” I muttered. Then, right when his hand touched the doorknob, “Wait.”
He paused but didn’t turn around. Like a douche.
“If we do this, there are going to be some ground rules,” I said.
His shoulders shook and it took me a moment to realize he was laughing at me.
And because I could, I picked up an old makeup brush from the vanity and chucked it at the back of his head. I had perfect aim and it bounced off his skull. He whirled around with a glare. I batted my eyelashes at him.
“Rules,” I said.
“Fine,” he said as he began to stalk toward me again. “Rules.”
“Rule one, you don’t touch me unless I invite you to,” I said.
“Rule two,” he said, “rule one is stupid because if we’re boyfriends, then I can touch you anytime I want.”
“Fine, no inappropriate touching. And we’re fake boyfriends.”
“Define inappropriate.”
“You’ll find out when I break your fingers.”
He grinned.
“Rule three,” I said through gritted teeth as he came to stand before me again. “No trying to sabotage this at any point. I know seven ways to murder a man and before you die, I’ll show you all seven.”
“Wouldn’t the first one kill me since it’s a way to murder me?”
“All seven,” I hissed at him.
“Rule four,” he said, that smirk coming back. “We go out together.”
Ugh. That sounded terrible. “Only in public where people can see us,” I amended. “No inviting me to your house where I assume the bedroom smells like twink jizz and sadness.”
He shrugged. “It also smells like vanilla. Because of the scented candles.”
“You have scented candles.”
“Well, yeah. I am gay, you know.”
“Huh. That doesn’t quite fit in with my view of you. Though, I suppose you can have scented candles and still have mirrors on your ceiling above your bed and slots on your bedposts meant specifically for handcuffs.”
“Wow.” He cocked his head at me. “You sure seem to spend a lot of time thinking about my bedroom.”
“Rule five,” I said, refusing to be baited. “You can’t fuck twinks while this is going on.”
“Rule six,” he said. “You can’t fuck homo jocks while this is going on.”
“Rule seven, you can’t fuck anyone while this is going on.”
“Rule eight, neither can you.”
“Fine. Rule nine, no sex at all. With anyone.” And then, as an afterthought, “Or me.”
He looked slightly horrified at such a thought, and I was almost offended. He quickly schooled his face into his usual leer. “You say that now.”
“Yeah,” I said sweetly. “I highly doubt I’ll change my mind on that one. I do have standards, after all.”
He leaned forward, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he did something worse and scraped his cheek against mine, his hot breath on my ear, hands coming to rest on my waist. “You sure about that, Sandy? Because you don’t sound like you’re sure.”
I shuddered briefly and my eyes threatened to slip closed of their own accord. Instead, I stepped back out of his reach as quickly as I could. He chuckled as I backed away.
“Any more rules?” he asked me innocently.
“I’m sure there are hundreds,” I said, thankful that my voice was even. “And I’ll reserve the right to bring them up as I see fit. Undoubtedly, you’ll do something stupid that’ll require correction and you can bet that I’ll be the one to correct it.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you will.”
“And you have to start working on your father as soon as possible.”
He winced slightly at that, the smirk falling from his face. “Right,” he said, voice harder than I’d heard it in a long while. And didn’t that make me feel like shit.
Dammit for having such a loving and sensitive heart, even if I was feeling guilty toward Darren of all people. “No. You know what? I can’t make you do this.”
“What? You’re not making me—”
“Darren, you’re not out to your father,” I reminded him. “There’s a very real chance that he’ll find out. Especially with how this goes. I would never force anyone to come out when they’re not ready to. That’s not fair to you.”
“I’m already out,” he said.
“Not to everyone.”
“To the ones that matter. I don’t care what he thinks about me.”
And I thought there was a chance that was a lie. “Then why doesn’t he know?”
“Because he didn’t have the right to know anything personal about me,” Darren snapped. “Not after the way he treated my mother. Not after what he promised her and then left her with a kid and nothing else. He doesn’t get to know shit about me or my family.”
“But he’ll know now,” I said. “He’ll figure it out.”
“And?”
“What if you get fired?”
“Then I go to work somewhere else,” he said. “And then sue the shit out of the city.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “You say that like it’s so easy.”
“It is. I’m good at what I do. I’ve had offers before. I have connections.”
“Nerd,” I said. “You’re an actuary and you’re a nerd.”
“And you’re a bitch,” he said. “So we’re even.”
I almost laughed at that, but kept it in check because Darren wasn’t funny and his soul was shriveled and dead. “I don’t get why you’re doing this,” I admitted.
He stared at me for a moment, eyes searching for something; what, I didn’t know. “Rule ten,” he said finally. “You don’t get to ask me that again.”
And I was right back to being annoyed. “If you fuck with me on this, I will end you,” I growled. “I’m not messing around here, Darren. This is my livelihood.”
“Really?” he said. “Then why didn’t you take my money?”
“Why are you still on that?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “Because we’re dating.”
“Fake dating,” I said. “That’s not—”
And then he did the damnedest thing.
He groaned long and loud, a sound of pure sex that caused the hairs to stand on the back of my neck. My hands were instantly clammy as the sound died out, his eyes never leaving mine.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded, ignoring how breathless I sounded.
“We have to sell it, right?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure the people down in the bar just heard that.”
I whirled around, realizing how close to the balcony we were.
And how there was no music playing yet.
And how quiet it seeme
d all of a sudden.
Which meant the people already in the bar had just heard him make that noise.
“What the fuck?” I hissed at him as I turned back toward him. “Stop that!”
“Make me,” he whispered. Then, much louder, “Yeah, Sandy. Do it right there. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”
“Oh my god, shut up!” I whisper-screamed at him. Because I had a reputation to maintain, one that did not include fucking the Homo Jock King in the Queen’s Lair.
He just groaned again, rocking his head back, letting the sound of his voice drag hotly over my skin. I felt too warm, too flushed, and I thought I was quickly losing control of the situation yet again.
“Fine,” I said to him in a low voice. “Two can play at that game.” I pulled Helena to the forefront as quickly as I could. My movements became more fluid, my voice huskier and dripping with something distinctly Helena. “Oh, right there, baby doll,” I said as loudly as I could, facing the balcony. “Oh, that’s what mama likes.”
Darren began to cough explosively, like he’d just swallowed something down the wrong tube.
What an amateur. He obviously didn’t know who he was fucking with. Little boys like him shouldn’t even try to play against a queen. I would crush him like the insignificant speck of nothing that he was.
“What’s that?” I made sure my voice echoed down onto the dance floor and into the bar below. “You want me to fuck you? Why, Darren. I would have thought you were Toppy McSuper Top. But of course you can be my bottom bitch.”
But then, he seemed to recover well enough because that evil grin came back on his face and he came to stand beside me on the balcony, well enough away from the edge to avoid being seen, but close enough for every word to be heard.
“Only for you,” he said, voice all rough and deep. “You going to fuck my ass, Sandy? Gonna fuck me with your cock?”
“Darling,” I purred, wondering when we’d turned toward each other. There was still space between us, but it wasn’t much. “You’re with a queen now. I expect you to refer to me as such.”
And for some reason, I thought he blushed, but it could have been the lighting. “Helena,” he said. “You want to fuck me, Helena?”
“I’m not going to fuck you.” I bared my teeth. “I’m going to destroy you.”
Something crashed down below. It sounded like somebody had dropped a glass bottle of something onto the floor, but I couldn’t be bothered with trying to find out what it was, because I was locked in a battle of wills with a dangerous foe.
“Come on, then,” he taunted loudly. “Fuck me if you’re going do it. Destroy me if you can.”
“Holy shit,” someone said from below. I thought it was probably Izaac.
I grinned at Darren and pushed by him, moving toward Charlie’s stool, pulling it away from the balcony railing. He’d always complained about how the thing made too much noise, how he was going to bring in some WD40 to stop it from squeaking.
“Yeah,” I said aloud. “Bend over that stool and show me your hole.”
He grimaced at me. “That sounds like really bad porn,” he whispered, trying to fight a smile.
“Shut up,” I whispered back. “You sound like bad porn.”
“Good one.” And then, louder, “Yeah, I want your cock in me so bad. Give it to me hard.” He almost sounded like he meant it too, which should not have affected me as much as it was doing. I thought maybe the air conditioning was broken up in the Lair because I felt unnecessarily hot. I reminded myself to have Charlie look into it.
“You moan like a wanton whore,” I said. “You want to be my whore?”
Wanton whore? he mouthed at me, looking seriously confused.
I shrugged because I had no idea what I was doing. I liked fucking. I liked getting fucked. I did both very well. I did not know how to dirty talk. If asked by an employer what my three biggest weaknesses are, I would have to say I care too much, I work too hard, and I cannot credibly dirty talk without sounding like I’m reading a script from Hot Ass 6: Get in Dat Ass.
“Yeah,” he groaned. “I’ll be your whore. I’ll be your little bottom bitch.”
I had to put my fist in my mouth to keep from braying out really unladylike laughter.
He was grinning too, covering his mouth with his hands, eyes crinkled at the sides.
“There we go,” I managed to say. “I’m going to stick my dick in you now. You feel that? You feel me opening you up with my fat dick?”
“Yeah,” he moaned. “Oh, it’s slightly bigger than average and feels so good.”
“Slightly bigger?” I hissed at him.
“We have to be realistic,” he whispered back. “Not everyone has got a monster cock.”
“And how do you know I don’t?”
He arched an eyebrow at me.
“Okay, fair point, shut up.” I raised my voice. “Wow. I didn’t need to do much prep work because your ass is so loose already. You know, from all the bottoming you do. Like a slut. I bet when you walk, it sounds like wind blowing over the entrance to a cave.”
He glared at me.
I glared right back.
“Do you even know what you’re doing back there?” he called out, practically shouting it down from the balcony.
“You bet your fucking ass I do,” I said. “Trust me, you ain’t been fucked until you’ve been fucked by me.”
“Wow,” he said, voice deadpan. “That really does it for me.”
“Good,” I said. “Because you’re going to have to make up for the both of us, seeing as how I’m getting slightly turned off by your back hair.”
“Fuck you, I don’t have back hair,” he hissed.
I shrugged. “Everyone listening thinks you do now.”
“Wow, Helena,” he said, raising his voice again. “I like the au naturel thing you’ve got going on. Your pubes look like Bob Ross painted your happy little bush.”
“I am going to murder you,” I promised him in a low voice. Then, “Now, boy. Spread those legs wide and let me fuck you up real good.”
“Boy?”
“I don’t know, just go with it.”
“Should I call you Sir? Or Master?”
“Oh my fucking god, Darren, shut the fuck up. When I tell you, start clapping your hands so it sounds like skin smacking together.”
“It is skin smacking together. That’s what clapping is.”
“Just do it!”
“This is terrible.”
“You started it!”
“Well, had I known you were going to be bad at it, I might have reconsidered.”
Then he took off his shirt and threw it off the edge of the balcony.
“What the fuck!” I said, trying hard not to shriek and to keep my eyes off the muscles of his stomach and the hair on his chest because it was unfair.
“They have to think we’re getting naked,” he said. “We have to sell it.”
“Fine!” And for some reason, I took that as invitation to take off my pants and throw them over the balcony. I was left wearing a thin T-shirt and the tiniest briefs that I owned. Which, honestly, I should have thought that one through, but to be fair, I hadn’t expected to be standing half-naked while faking sex with Darren Mayne when I chose my underwear that morning.
“Oh my god,” someone moaned from downstairs. “They’re tearing their clothes off each other. Why can’t I see it!”
I started spinning the top of the stool, making it squeak really loudly. Darren started clapping in a slow, even rhythm.
“Yeah!” I shouted. “There it is. I’m giving it to you big time!” I understood that this was quite possibly the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but all I could think about was one-upping Darren somehow. Which was probably not the best frame of mind to be in when trying to think rationally.
“Yeah,” he shouted, just as loud. “Fuck me. Oh god, that feels so good. Come on, fuck me harder!”
“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I growled at him, almost forgetting
myself. “I’m going to fill your trunk with my spunk.”
“Holy shit, stop rhyming!” he whisper-shouted at me, eyes wide, hands still clapping together.
“I can’t help it! It just happens sometimes.”
“Control it.”
“I’m trying. No one is good at dirty talk unless you’re in porn. It’s fucking impossible!”
“Holy fuck!” he yelled. “I’m getting close. Come on, fuck me like you mean it!”
“Yeah!” I screeched back. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, I’m going to get you pregnant.”
He started choking again, but was able to force it into a loud groan, his face turning red as he struggled to breathe. “You’re so bad at this,” he managed to say.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I snapped at him. “If I’d known I was going to be having fake sex, I would have practiced.”
“Well obviously you need to do something,” he said with a sneer. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned off in my life.”
“Oh no,” I said. “How devastating for me. Whatever shall I do.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Let’s just do a big finish and get this over with. No more talking. Just make noise.”
So he sped up his clapping and I sped up the stool and we grunted and groaned our way to pseudo-completion. At no fault of my own, I found myself staring at his nipples, dark and dusky, peaked through the hair on his chest. And, if I thought about it, I could have sworn that Darren didn’t look away from my legs. Either he had a knee fetish or all the hours on the treadmill paid off, because I saw his skin flush around his neck.
He finished with a loud groan and I might have shouted “Eureka!” We stood there, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, eyes locked on one another from only a couple of feet away.
“Well,” I said awkwardly. “That sure was something.”
He snorted and ran a big hand through his hair. “You need to work on your dirty talk.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said. “Because that’s never going to happen again. The fact that it even happened at all is something I’m probably going to be struggling with for the foreseeable future.”