“I’ve actually got a job there too,” Cricket said as she turned to greet another customer. “We usually carpool. He’s picking up another shift today, last-minute. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
“Sure he will,” Sterling said under his breath.
Cricket rounded on him, her eyes fierce. “He will, Fox—he’s been worried about you!”
“She’s right,” Tatum added, apparently absorbed in whatever was on their phone. “He talks about you a lot. Wonders how you’re doing. He even asked me if there was any way we could get a bigger place so you could stay with us.”
Sterling opened and closed his mouth, stunned. “I—”
“I know you guys have your differences,” Cricket said, voice soft, “but he loves you, Fox.”
“Tell him I’m okay, would you?” Sterling managed. “I’ve got a job too. I’ll try and check in with you guys more often, but I’m okay, I promise.” He hesitated. “Have you heard from Mom?”
“She’s still with the Whittiers,” Cricket said. “She’s in their guest house, doesn’t seem to have any plans to find a place of her own.”
“Has she—” Sterling was unable to finish.
Cricket’s eyes were unhappy. “We don’t see her that often, but… she hasn’t asked about you. I’m sorry, Fox.”
Sterling hunched his shoulders and nodded, unsurprised.
Cricket turned to Sanyam, who’d said nothing. “If you need anything—”
He smiled. “I won’t hesitate. Fox, would you like to stay with your sister and friend while I do the shopping, or come with me?”
“Come with you,” Sterling said, standing. He kissed Cricket’s cheek and gave Tatum a parting wave. “I’ll see you soon, Cricky.”
“You’d better,” Cricket said. She waved as they left, and Sterling fell into step beside Sanyam.
“Um… thanks,” he said after a minute. “That was a good idea.”
“Of course,” Sanyam said. He stopped to examine a block of cheese on display. “Family is important, Fox, and I’m glad you’re close with yours.”
“The twins, anyway,” Sterling said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Mom wouldn’t care if I dropped dead tomorrow. She’d probably be happy, somewhere, because then she wouldn’t have to pretend to care about me anymore.”
Sanyam stepped close, and Sterling turned his head away from the sympathy in his eyes.
“She’s wrong. Do you understand me?” Sanyam said. He touched Sterling’s wrist, and Sterling flinched. “I don’t know why your mother is like that, Fox, but I can tell you it’s not your fault.”
“Right,” Sterling said. “Are we going to get groceries or not?”
“In a minute,” Sanyam said. He moved in until they were flush together, and caught the back of Sterling’s neck, drawing him into a kiss.
It wasn’t hard or filthy this time. Sanyam held him still, tongue caressing Sterling’s lips delicately until Sterling opened and let him in with soft, gentle sweeps, scouring away the hurt and leaving Sterling feeling light and somehow almost… hopeful.
When they separated, Sanyam cupped Sterling’s face. “Now we’re getting groceries.”
Sterling cleared his throat and nodded, dizzy, following him down the aisle toward the produce.
“So what did you buy at that one booth?” he asked as they debated the merits of fresh pasta over frozen. “Fresh pasta is so much better, you can taste the difference.”
“You’ll see,” Sanyam said. “I agree that fresh is better, but it’s also much more expensive. Smarter to go with the frozen.”
“It’s not that much more expensive,” Sterling argued. “Besides, you have a waterfront apartment in Vancouver, you’re not exactly hurting for money.”
Sanyam gave him a level look. “I am comfortable but I did not get that way by spending in a profligate manner.”
Sterling rolled his eyes and groaned. “Profligate. Who even talks like that? What’s in the bag?”
“You’ll see,” Sanyam repeated. “Frozen.”
“Fine,” Sterling said, dropping the pasta into the cart. “You’re definitely no fun.”
“If you think I won’t smack your ass again just because we’re in a public place,” Sanyam warned, and Sterling laughed, leaning against Sanyam’s solid shoulder.
A child ran by, her mother in hot pursuit, and Sanyam smiled, his eyes softening as he watched. Sterling sobered and drew away.
“What else is on the list?”
Sanyam consulted it. “What vegetables won’t you eat?”
“Most of them,” Sterling said. “But especially peas.” He shuddered. “Little evil green balls.”
Sanyam snickered and started walking again, heading down the aisle as Sterling kept pace, sneaking curious peeks at the innocuous brown paper bag still in Sanyam’s hand.
“Is it something for me or you?” he persisted.
Sanyam gave him an irritated look. “Were you like this on Christmas and birthdays too?”
“Of course,” Sterling said cheerfully. “I knew all the good hiding places, and I always found the presents beforehand.”
“That’s half the fun!” Sanyam pointed out. “The surprise and anticipation is part of the gift-giving process, and you took that away from yourself.”
Sterling shrugged. “Still got the presents—it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Well, you’re waiting this time,” Sanyam said firmly.
Sterling groaned again and followed him.
BY THE time they got back to the loft, Sterling was dying with curiosity. Sanyam kept the bag tucked close to his hip, apparently oblivious to the way Sterling’s fingers were twitching.
They lugged the groceries inside, and Sanyam disappeared into his bedroom with the mysterious bag as Sterling fumed and put the groceries away and Polly wound around his feet, squeaking at him.
When Sanyam came back out, Sterling had folded the grocery bags and was stowing them in the pantry.
Sanyam came up behind him and wrapped a piece of what felt like silk over Sterling’s eyes. The world went black.
Sterling froze, taking a startled breath, and Sanyam nipped at his ear and tied the blindfold in place. All Sterling could see was a strip of the floor at his feet, and his breathing was harsh in his ears.
“San—” His voice was unsteady.
Sanyam guided him out of the pantry and through the kitchen, one hand on Sterling’s shoulder and the other on his waist.
“You’re safe, kit,” he said in Sterling’s ear. “Trust me?”
Sterling nodded, relaxing into Sanyam’s body. He felt Sanyam fumble for the doorknob and the rush of cool air as it swung open, and they stepped forward over the threshold.
He’d never been in Sanyam’s bedroom before, and any other time, he’d have been looking around as soon as Sanyam pulled the blindfold off, but Sterling was instead transfixed by what was on the bed.
It was a dress, sunshine gold banded in olive green at the flaring hem, in what looked like a vintage ’50s housewife style, with its wide skirt and fitted bodice. Next to it lay a pair of sheer stockings, garters, and white satin elbow-length gloves.
Sterling swung around to Sanyam, who hadn’t moved. “You—you’re going to wear this?” Please be for you, please say it’s for you, please don’t—
Sanyam’s lips quirked. “Not me, kit. You.”
Sterling swallowed hard and looked back at the bed, at the dress staring silently back. “I—I don’t—”
“I didn’t know your shoe size,” Sanyam said, touching his waist. “But if you like, we can look into getting you some later.”
Sterling jerked away from his hand. “Calypso.” He bolted from the room before Sanyam could respond. He ran for his own bedroom and the door slammed behind him.
HE WAS twelve years old, coltish with adolescence, more guarded with his heart but still hopeful. Amparo had brought her daughter’s dress to mend during the day, and Sterling was on the floor beside her as she made
tiny, neat stitches in the hem. He was touching the fabric with one finger, feeling the satin and the dark red embroidered roses that were scattered across it in a careless tumble, when Amparo made a satisfied noise and held it up.
“Finished!” she said. “Stand up, querido, you’re the same size as Beatriz. I want to make sure it will fit her.”
“Me?” Sterling said, startled. He scrambled to his feet. “But… I’m a boy.”
Amparo smiled as she stood and pointed to the chair. “So? You can still put on a dress. It won’t make you any less of a boy. Take your shirt off, mi amor.”
Sterling took his shirt off and climbed onto the chair, bending so Amparo could settle the silk of the dress over his head. It fell in soft chuffing folds, nipping in at his waist and flaring out in pale pink satin petals.
“I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a rose,” he said, awed, and moved his hips to make the fabric sway.
Amparo laughed and put several pins in her mouth as she knelt in front of him. “Be still, corazón, let me make sure the hem is even.”
The sharp gasp in the doorway was the only warning, and Sterling’s blood turned to ice when he looked up and saw his mother standing there.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.
Amparo scrambled to her feet, pins tinkling on the marble floor as she flung out a hand to stop Alice’s forward charge. “Please, Mrs. Reynard, he was just helping me make sure the hem was even!”
“Yates!” Alice shouted, her eyes dark with fury.
Sterling shrank away as she reached for his arm, and his father nearly fell into the room, horror and outrage flashing across his face.
“Get out of that dress!”
Yates yanked him off the chair, and the fabric ripped, catching on Sterling’s arm and making him cry out in pain as he was hauled sideways and the dress jerked off over his head.
Amparo was weeping openly, trying to pull Sterling away from where he dangled from one of his father’s big hands. “Leave him alone, it’s my fault, it’s not his fault—please, Mr. Reynard, please—”
Alice rounded on her. “You’re fired,” she spat. “Get out of my house right now.”
“Mommy, no!” Sterling sobbed, twisting away from Yates’s grip and bolting for Amparo. He flung his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shirt, and clung to her, his thin shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry, ’Paro. I’m so sorry—”
Yates caught him by the arm and dragged him backward as he kicked and screamed, and Alice hustled Amparo from the room.
Yates shook him. “Stop crying, goddammit. Be a man. You’re not a baby. Men don’t cry. Stop it, I said!”
Sterling gulped back his tears, the sobs still shaking his frame, craning to see where Amparo had gone.
“Only girls wear dresses. Do you hear me?” Yates continued. His grip was painful on Sterling’s arms, his eyes cold with rage. “You’re a boy, about to be a man. You do not wear dresses. Ever.”
“I’m sorry,” Sterling whispered, his vision blurred. “I didn’t mean to—”
Alice came back in, heels tapping rapidly on the marble, and Yates straightened, turning to her.
“Is she gone?”
“Of course,” Alice said. “Sterling, go to your room.”
Sterling swallowed more tears and fled for the safety of his bedroom.
HE CURLED up in the bed, face in the crook of his elbow, and fought the tears. So stupid, useless, pathetic—the door creaked as it opened, and Sterling went still.
“Fox.” Sanyam’s voice was low and full of nothing but concern. “May I talk to you?”
Sterling said nothing, staring at the wall, and listened as Sanyam approached the bed and sat down on the edge of it.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. “I didn’t realize—no.” He cleared his throat. “It’s my fault, Fox. I should have talked to you first. Instead I just sprang it on you without warning. That’s not what a good Dom does. Can you forgive me?”
Sterling closed his eyes, and Sanyam touched his hip, warm and comforting.
“I’m going to be in the living room,” Sanyam said. “If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate, all right?”
He was almost to the door when Sterling rolled over. “San?”
Sanyam turned, and Sterling stood and pulled his shirt off. Sanyam’s intake of breath was audible, but he didn’t move.
Sterling held out a hand. Don’t make me beg, San, please don’t.
Sanyam took a step toward him, then another, and Sterling met him halfway, bodies colliding as hands grappled and lips met in a hot, hungry slide.
“Are you—sure,” Sanyam managed to say. “Fox—”
“I’m sure,” Sterling husked. “I need you to fuck me, San. I need—”
“All right, kamsin,” Sanyam whispered. He walked Sterling backward to the bed and pushed him onto it, swarming up his body and kissing him breathless again.
Sterling arched up into it as Sanyam caught his wrists and pinned him to the bed, holding him down. Sanyam broke the kiss and slid down a few inches, nudging until Sterling got the hint and tilted his head to give him better access.
He gasped as Sanyam latched on and sucked, pulling blood to the surface, scraping his teeth across the delicate skin under Sterling’s ear.
“This throat of yours is still criminal,” Sanyam murmured and moved to another spot. “Still begging to be marked up.” His breath was hot on Sterling’s skin, and he took his time as he picked the next place to claim.
Sterling twisted under him, breath hitching, but Sanyam’s hands were implacable where they held him down, an immovable force, and Sterling had never felt safer.
This wasn’t a scene. Sterling had safeworded, ended the scene, and they hadn’t restarted. Sanyam’s mouth was hot on Sterling’s skin, and Sterling shivered beneath him. Something had shifted in their relationship, but he was afraid to look at what it was.
It was quiet in the bedroom, the early afternoon sun haloing Sanyam’s curly hair, and there was a decadence to what they were doing in the middle of the day, a sense of the forbidden being flouted. Sanyam kept going, laying claim to every inch of Sterling’s helpless body, until Sterling was fighting tears, his eyelids pricking.
Please. The word was on the tip of his tongue, poised to fall, when Sanyam looked up and caught sight of his face.
“Fox?” He crowded close, cupping Sterling’s jaw in one big hand, worry in his eyes. “Gulbadan, are you okay? Talk to me.”
Sterling turned his face into Sanyam’s palm, swallowing back the tears. “I’m—fine,” he managed. “I just… I need you to fuck me, San.”
“All right, maahi,” Sanyam murmured. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He rolled off the bed and disappeared out the door, and Sterling took the opportunity to push his pants down.
Sanyam was back before Sterling had them over his ankles, and helped him tug them the rest of the way off. He’d taken his shirt off in the living room, and he set the lube on the bed to push his own pants down.
Sterling propped himself on his elbows to watch. Sanyam was beautiful, his brown skin nearly glowing in the sunlight, the tiny black hairs on his broad chest crisp and curled, thickening on his stomach and melding into his happy trail, and Sterling crossed his arms over his own almost concave stomach, fish belly–white and almost hairless.
But Sanyam was looking at him with wonder in his eyes, stiff cock a silent testament to just how much he wanted him, and Sterling caught his breath. He held out his hand again and drew Sanyam down on top of him, his full weight pressing Sterling into the mattress.
They kissed leisurely for a while, but it wasn’t long before Sterling deepened them, running his hands up and down Sanyam’s body, over his satin skin and along his sides.
He planted his foot on the bed and pushed to roll them over, until Sanyam was spread out beneath him, his eyes soft as he gazed up at him.
“I want—be still,” Sterlin
g whispered.
Sanyam was motionless as Sterling lowered his head to worship. He pressed his lips to the chevet of Sanyam’s inner elbow, tasting the velvet soft skin there and delighting in the shiver that ran through Sanyam’s frame.
The wings of his collarbones spread above the cathedral of his ribs, and Sterling worked his way along each one, his mouth soft as he placed each reverent kiss and then moved lower, letting his lips drag over each rib until he’d reached the delicate skin stretched over Sanyam’s hip bone.
Sanyam seemed to have been turned to marble beneath him, hardly even breathing as Sterling followed the arches of his hips, slow and deliberate in his worship.
“Tum mujhe barbaad kartey ho,” Sanyam managed, his voice unsteady.
Sterling glanced up and Sanyam met his eyes.
“You ruin me, kit,” Sanyam whispered and held out a hand.
Sterling took it and slid onto Sanyam’s broad chest so their erections were rubbing together and lowered his head to kiss him again as Sanyam traced intricate patterns on Sterling’s skin, thumbs deft and gentle.
Finally, though, Sanyam shivered and drew away. He rolled Sterling off onto his back and went to his knees between Sterling’s splayed thighs.
“Shouldn’t take much,” he murmured as he picked up the lube and coated his fingers. “Considering last night.”
Sterling tilted his hips up so that Sanyam could put a pillow under them, and folded his arms behind his head as Sanyam focused on his task.
A thought occurred to him as Sanyam slipped the first finger in. “You’re not going to make—ah—me come… untouched again, are you?”
Sanyam’s smile lit the room. “No, mastana, I’m not.”
“Not that that wasn’t—fuck—fun,” Sterling said, forcing himself to relax as Sanyam added a finger and scissored them. “But—oh God—San….”
“I’ve got you,” Sanyam said, his voice low and ragged. He was up to three fingers, Sterling realized with dim surprise, and he bore down against it, panting.
“Come on,” he said. “Come on, San, come on come on, I—”
Broken Rules Page 17