Tough Love

by Heidi Cullinan

  Chenco nodded, pretty sure he was going to need all the luck he could get.

  He didn’t think it was a good sign when Steve let himself be led like a lamb out of the house and into the driveway, but he was heartened that he balked when Chenco straddled Sam’s bike and indicated Steve should climb on behind him.

  “What the hell?”

  There you are, Papi. “You need to get out of here. I’m driving you.”

  “Do you know how to drive a bike?”

  No, not really, and Chenco wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Why don’t you get on and find out?”

  Steve looked ready to argue, but a series of angry shouts told them Gordy and his entourage were exiting the building too. When Steve blanched, falling into the scary space Chenco had seen him in before, Chenco found his steel.

  “Get on this bike, Papi, right now,” Chenco ordered.

  Steve did.

  He hadn’t bothered to put on Sam’s helmet, and neither had Steve, which was especially stupid given how rough Chenco’s driving was. It was a strange moment all around, Chenco as the boy-toy white knight stealing away with his rescued leather daddy. He got about a block before he lingered at a stop sign and glanced over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know where I’m going,” he confessed. “I don’t know the way home, or to anywhere, really.”

  Steve, who was still tight from the scene at the party, relaxed somewhat and smiled, running a hand over Chenco’s thigh. “Take a right here. It’ll lead you to 159.”

  “That’s not an interstate, is it? I don’t think I’m ready for prime time.”

  “It’s not an interstate.” The brush of a goatee against his neck thrilled Chenco. “You’ll be fine.”

  Chenco did fairly well, and while it was a little weird to be the one driving Steve, he didn’t dislike it. Though Steve didn’t wrap his arms around Chenco’s middle the same way Chenco did when he rode bitch, he did rest his hands on Chenco’s thighs in a comfortable, possessive way that made things feel just right. In fact he was starting to relax when at a stoplight, Steve leaned down and spoke directly into his ear.

  “You would do better without me.”

  It was a damn good thing they were stopped since Chenco was sure he would have wrecked if he were driving. As it was, he about tipped the bike as he glared at Steve. “What the hell?”

  He hated how tired and beaten Steve looked. “You heard me, and you know it’s true.” When Chenco started to argue, Steve nodded at the stoplight. “It’s green.”

  Chenco went back to driving, but he was furious now, and he boiled all the way to Randy and Ethan’s. When he pulled into the drive, he threw the kickstand, climbed off, and faced Steve with every ounce of anger he’d banked on the way home.

  “You son of a bitch. You fucking asshole, if I had a fucking stiletto on me, I’d put one through your shoulder, or maybe through the middle of your goddamned heart.” His nostrils flared with his anger, and tears of rage pricked his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “Is this about the fucker back there? Are you breaking up with me because of him? The way you were looking at me before he showed up, I would have said we were going in a very different direction.”

  Steve glanced around. “Let’s not do this in the middle of the driveway.”

  “Oh, I’ll do this in the middle of the goddamned Strip, you fucker. You’re so fucking tough, you think you can hide all your pain from me? Fuck. You. I may not speak Spanish for shit, but I’ve still got all the Latin blood, and I was raised by a woman who fed me tough love for breakfast. I’ll give you a serving anywhere I damn well want to dish it up. Tell me, right fucking now, why you’re doing this, why you’re keeping yourself from me. Because of Gordy? You’re letting him fuck you over because you believe the bullshit he throws at you?”

  Ugh, but he hated the way Steve shuttered. “It’s my fault. I let—”

  “He’s a fucking manipulator,” Chenco shot back, not letting him spin the tired line again. “Oh, maybe he didn’t get himself beat up to torture you, but you know what? He’s not quite the victim he wants you to believe he is, not all the way down. I have lived with that asshole. I’ve dated plenty of guys like him too. He’s a fucking user. Maybe he was your best friend then, but he’s a piece of shit now. He’s not a sorry little thing who needs to be saved. He’s a goddamned monster, and he’s eating you alive because you’re letting him.” The tears threatened, choking his throat, and he hissed to keep them at bay. “So help me, if you break up with me because you’d rather let him tear you apart—”

  Though Chenco groped for a suitable threat, he found only air. Crying out in angry frustration, he launched himself at Steve, not sure if he was tackling him, pummeling him or what, only knowing he had to knock sense into him somehow, and if that was with his thick fucking head hitting the pavement, then so be it.

  Steve didn’t go down—he wavered slightly, but when Chenco hit his lover, he found himself immediately wrapped up in those thick, handsome arms, pulled to that half-naked chest, against the open leather before Steve’s lips came crushing down on his. They went to the ground, yes, but it was Chenco’s back hitting the pavement, the force knocking out a gasp of air. Steve drank it down as his tongue stole deep into Chenco’s mouth, tangling with him, claiming him, his big hand sheltering Chenco’s head as he bruised him with his kiss.

  “Steve,” Chenco whispered when Steve let him up for air.

  Steve cradled Chenco’s face in his hands and stared down at him, all his shadows gone, all his weariness washed away, the vulnerability no longer a burden but a shining, open portal into his soul. He stroked Chenco’s cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes shining as he said, his voice rough and overflowing with emotion, “I love you, Crescencio Ortiz.”

  Chenco couldn’t help it—he did cry then, a sob escaping before he wrestled it back to simply tears streaming down into his hair. “I love you too, Steven Vance.” Punching him in the chest, he added with a heavy whisper, “You big idiot.”

  Steve kissed him, lingering, nuzzling. “I have something I want to show you. To share with you.”

  Anything. Everything. “Okay.”

  “I need to pack a bag. Then I want to take you to Randy’s old house so we can be alone. This is sacred, what I want to show you.”

  He loves me. Chenco was pretty sure his smile had sunbeams in it. “I’ll help you.”

  “I have to get ready alone, but you can drive us over. I think, actually, I should let you drive more often.” He tweaked Chenco’s nose and added, “But this time we’re wearing helmets. Both of us.”

  Laughing, Chenco nipped his chin. “Whatever you say, Papi.”

  THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN the house Steve directed Chenco to and the one Randy and Ethan lived in now was staggering, and yet even with the two-bedroom ranch barely furnished, Randy’s echo remained. It lingered in the way the trailer, despite what Mitch had said about Chenco healing it, had always harbored plenty of Cooper. Randy’s ghosting, however, felt comforting tonight, as Steve unpacked the duffel he’d brought along. At the same time, the presence reminded him it was well past time he stopped living in other people’s castles and went off to build his own.

  Rubbing at his arms, Chenco moved closer to Steve as he fussed at the kitchen counter. “What are those?”

  “Hypodermic needles.”

  Chenco’s heart did a tiny flip. He’d given up waiting for Steve to bring them up, and now here they were before him. While needles were delightfully wicked in theory, as Chenco took in the spread of sharps before him, he worried this was a kink he wasn’t going to be able to share with his lover.

  As Steve continued to arrange his supplies, he began to speak.

  “I first played with needles when I was too young to know what I was doing. I think probably every kid liked to slide pins under their skin to see what happened, to marvel at the way you’d pierced yourself but didn’t bleed, how it hurt but not really. Not many people I knew then got into it the way I did. I co
uldn’t say why I did it. There was simply something magical about piercing. Playing with an edge, flirting with a taboo. I didn’t have the words for it then, nor the sense, but the thing I kept playing with in my head was that it was sacred, sliding something sharp under your skin. I couldn’t get enough of it. And the only thing better than doing it to myself was doing it to someone else, having them pierce me back.”

  Chenco thought of all the things he’d let Steve do to him, all the taboos he’d claimed ownership of. “I understand.”

  Clouds passed over Steve’s countenance. “Usually I played with Gordy. That was how we learned about each other, how I liked to hurt and he liked to be hurt, but he pierced me too. Needles were how it started. By the time we were in high school, every summer vacation was an amateur foray into BDSM, usually doing shit we shouldn’t have known about, let alone tried. Needles were always there, though. Needles were communion between us. Piercing was how we spoke to one another, how we shared our love.”

  Steve ran a hand over the bath towel he’d arranged his supplies across. “Needles were the trouble too. It took me a while to figure it out, but Gordy had a different kink about them than me. Rougher. More dangerous. He didn’t just like the edge, he needed it. What I’ve never let myself see, not fully, is that he loves emotional bleeding too. To bleed himself. To bleed me. I wanted to help him, to save him, but he never wanted to be saved.”

  Steve shut his eyes. Chenco stepped closer, running a hand down his arm. “No, he wanted to pull you into hell with him.”

  “Yes,” Steve said, his voice rough.

  Chenco kissed Steve’s shoulder, then lifted his arm and kissed his triskele. “Show me needles, Papi. Show me how you want to pierce me, how I can pierce you.”

  Quietly, reverently, Steve showed Chenco the different sizes of needles, explaining how the widths would feel, telling Chenco where he could pierce and where no one should ever break skin. He told Chenco about the varied kinds of stabs, how deep he could go, how he could draw blood or not. He explained how important sterilization was, and proper disposal, and how even by taking all the precautions in the world, there was still a level of risk he needed to understand would always be present. He pulled out his phone and showed Chenco an online photo of someone pierced with needles and then laced up with ribbon around the sharps.

  There was no contract this time, no wall of paper between them, but this act felt ten times as intimate as anything they’d ever done. Chenco’s heart swelled with pride to think Steve trusted him that much to believe their contract ran so deep now mere words would never be enough.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Steve said. “I won’t lie—I want you to want this with me, but you can say no. This isn’t a make-or-break deal. It’s enough to tell you about it, to share how I feel about this kink.”

  Chenco shook his head. “No, it’s not enough. You need to share more than just talking about this. But it’s okay. I’m open to trying.” He held out his forearm. “Show me, please.”

  “Lie down on the carpet, after we both strip down. And first you’re going to drink some of this water.”

  After taking a heavy swig of the bottle Steve handed him, Chenco hurried out of his clothes. His heart felt like he harbored a racehorse behind his ribs as Steve cleaned off Chenco’s chest with the antiseptic wipe.

  “I’m going to start with something shallow that won’t bleed. I want you to get a feel for what it’s like. I’m leaving it in—you’ll be wearing my needle, and you’ll feel it burn there, right there on your skin. If you freak out, you’ll cut yourself. It’s important if you want to stop, you use your safe words. Yellow to slow. Red to stop. I’ll get them out right away on red, but I’ll go slower if you say yellow. Use those words, though. Let me take the needles out. Don’t do it yourself, even if you’re panicked.”

  “I can do that,” Chenco said.

  Steve held his gaze. “It can be very intense. It’s heady but it’s weird, having sharps inside your skin. If you let me, I’ll put twenty, thirty of them into you. I’ll put you on your knees and make taking the needles feel like surrender, like giving me the pain is your job, your calling. It’s good, but it’s intense.” He stroked Chenco’s face. “Then when you’re recovered, I’ll show you how to give it back to me.”

  Chenco leaned into Steve’s hand, his heart feeling like it bloomed inside his chest. “This is your church. Not the needles, but the exchange. The understanding. The trust.”

  Steve pressed a soft kiss to Chenco’s lips. “It’s the place I can let go like nowhere else. Where I can put my troubles down. Where I don’t have to be tough. I can just be.”

  That’s what he’s sharing with you. This is how much he loves you—enough to be weak. Chenco, swimming with the weight of the realization, pulled his lover’s head down for one more kiss.

  When Steve withdrew and turned to the sharps, Chenco felt no fear, only the dark-chocolate anticipation of pleasure coursing through him as he settled onto the towel, as if he were about to sunbathe instead of take a needle under his skin. “Please pierce me, Papi.”

  That pleasure began to evaporate, though, when Steve crouched beside him, resting one hand on Chenco’s shoulder, holding a small hypodermic in the other. Though Chenco tried to see what color the cap was, it was too dark to properly tell, and honestly he couldn’t remember which color meant what sensation anyway. He traced the trajectory of the point, his breath quickening.

  “I’m not putting it in yet.” Steve tipped the needle away from Chenco and rubbed his pinky across his abdomen. He smiled, slow and easy, clearly enjoying himself. Anticipating. “Relax. When you’re ready, I’ll do a count of three, and that’s when it’ll go in. I don’t do surprises with needles, especially not when we’re first starting.”

  “I’m ready,” Chenco said around a tight breath.

  Steve laughed. “Baby, you’re not ready. Quit trying to drive. You’re about to let me slide a sharp object under your skin, and you’re going to lie there and let me. At this point holding on to the idea of control is pretty stupid.”

  Chenco couldn’t take his eyes off the tip. “It’s weirder than I thought, knowing you’re going to stick me. I’m not saying I don’t want you to, and I’m not using my word. I guess I’m surprised at myself. I thought I was stronger than this.”

  “All you have to do is be strong enough to trust me this hurt will be good, that I won’t harm you. I’m going to take care of you, even while sliding a needle under your skin. I hope you believe I’m worthy of that kind of trust.”

  “You are worthy. This is just really hard.”

  The lamp from beside the sofa lit Steve’s smile, made it strange and wonderful and haunting. “I know. That’s why it’s so cool.” Steve’s expression softened. He pressed the flat of the needle against Chenco’s chest. “One.”

  Chenco quivered and let out another breath.

  Steve’s pinky flicked across his nipple, teasing it. The sharp dipped closer to the flesh of his pectorals. “Two.”

  Chenco made himself breathe deeper, pushed his air out more slowly.

  “Three.”

  At the last second Chenco glanced up—Steve’s gaze trained on Chenco’s face, eyes full of intensity, passion. Love. Chenco looked back, waiting, terrified, hopeful, determined.

  The needle went in, then out.

  Chenco’s eyes widened then closed, his mouth parting on a silent sigh.

  He had one moment of bliss, the sharp, sweet burn of the needle, the weight of the metal inside his skin—inside his skin, inside him. He was just starting to spiral in his head when he felt lips at his own, demanding entrance. Chenco whimpered and opened his mouth, eyes still shut, still savoring, still sipping at sensation, trying to decide if it was as good as it seemed or if he was trying to make it more than it was.

  “Please,” he whispered, surprised to hear his voice so raw, so shaken.

  Steve smiled against his mouth. He sat up, but not far. He looked Chenco in the
eye as he uncapped another needle and held it an inch away from the first one. “This one on two. One. Two.”

  In. Out. Chenco gasped again, louder this time. He kept his eyes open, but only just, and he stared up at Steve as if he were looking through watery glass. Another burn. Another bite, another weight—it was nothing, really, nothing compared to a flogger, but it was a needle, a needle in his skin, and it was altogether different. He’d lain there and let Steve do that, twice. He still had the needles in. He could feel them. If he sat up too fast, he might bend wrong and prick himself.

  He wanted to whimper. He wanted to cry.

  He wanted more.

  Grinning, Steve gave Chenco another kiss then reached for another needle.

  “I’m not counting this time,” Steve said. He held a needle to the other side, his eyes trained on Chenco’s face.

  It took everything in him not to arch into the tip, but when it went in, he shut his eyes and lifted off the towel, groaning, begging for more.

  More. More.

  He did beg—like a whore, please, please, Papi, please give me more—and Steve smiled, wickedly, kissing all over Chenco’s body instead of sticking him, licking him, stroking his dick while Chenco growled and whined and almost sobbed. He felt slightly stupid, as if his reaction were out of proportion to his actual experience, but he couldn’t stop.

  “I want to give one to you,” he whispered against Steve’s skin as he nipped at his neck, the burn of the needles driving him crazy. “Please, Papi—show me. Show me.”

  He did. First he gave Chenco more water and spoke softly to him, easing him down, and then he gave Chenco an antiseptic wipe and had him clean off Steve’s forearm, right above the triskele. “Try a small gauge,” he suggested. “A 22 or 23, and do a shallow stick this first time. Give me a count like I did for you, and then go. Don’t hesitate, don’t doubt yourself.”

  “Control,” Chenco said. “Like flogging.” He looked up at Steve and caressed his face. “I wish you had been there. I want you there next time.”

  Something dark and beautiful passed over Steve’s face, and instead of answering, he kissed him. “Give me a needle, Chenco.”