Part of the amusement came from rifling through Michael’s memories of all the things he’d done to try and pass the time in Frederick’s absences. Sometimes he watched television, other times he surfed the internet, but by and large he had been looking up information on psychic phenomenon and trying to differentiate fraudulent from fact.
Frederick passed the bodyguards at his door with a polite nod and let himself in to find out what Michael had been up to this morning.
“Great! You’re back!” Michael pointed at the laptop screen without so much as a greeting. “Did you know there are entire websites dedicated to teaching people how to become telepathic?”
He snorted in amusement. “If it were that easy the world would be crawling with them.” Frederick emptied his pockets and sauntered to stand at Michael’s back, then rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders to peer at the screen. “Good God,” he muttered. “Why are you filling your head with this rubbish?”
Michael shrugged. “I dunno, I kinda fell into it after browsing Reddit. Beats reading the news.”
I figured I’d try to find out whether anyone was dumb enough to tell the world what they were.
Frederick chuckled and leaned over to murmur against Michael’s ear. “I have something to show you.”
Is it your cock? C’mon, man, you’re killing me here!
He chuckled and withdrew. “Move.”
Michael bounced out of his seat, only for Frederick to ease into it. He logged Michael out and switched to his own login, then fired up his email client.
God damn it!
“You’re coming along quite nicely,” Frederick said, ignoring Michael’s vexation. “I would like to test your deductive reasoning.”
“Huh?” That derailed Michael’s idle dreams of a bloody good shag and focused him somewhat. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I have an investigator tailing a variety of people. I want you to look over his reports and tell me what patterns you see.” He opened the folder containing his emails from Sloane and rose from his chair. “Do what you feel necessary. Read, search, explore. Use any and all data at your disposal, beginning with these emails, and reach whatever conclusions you are able. I shall write my password down for you lest the screen lock at any point.”
Michael stared at him in mild shock. “You’re gonna give me your password? What if I accidentally delete all your shit?”
“I have so many backups of backups that it isn’t even funny,” Frederick admitted. “Sit. Take your time. Days, if you must. If you have questions, ask.”
After a moment, Michael sank slowly into the empty chair and licked his lips. “What’s this about?”
“If you can deduce that, you get a gold star. And a fuck.” After a moment, he added, “Probably just the fuck, to be honest.”
Michael huffed. “Let me guess. You’re going to the gym.”
“Correct!” He suppressed a laugh as he meandered away.
Michael’s thoughts tumbled between curiosity and promise, and he managed to tear his attention away from Frederick’s backside to the emails.
HE RETURNED to Michael’s side after a shower, and settled into the chair beside him. “All right. How are you so far?”
Michael blinked at him. “You know housekeeping only ever comes when you’re not here, right?”
“Of course.” Frederick chuckled, then pointed to the screen. “Questions?”
Michael turned his attention back to the documents he had opened. “This Wilson guy. That’s whose house you bought, isn’t it?”
“Correct. How did you deduce that?”
Michael shrugged. “You said the house you were buying was up in La Jolla, and that’s where Wilson lives. Since you’ve got an agency on his ass I figure that’s who you wanna fuck with.”
“Good.” He gave a brief nod. “What else?”
“Uh.” Michael took a moment to cycle through some documents, then nodded a little. “So, this Wilson guy’s a killer, right? I mean, people die a lot and there tend to be witnesses but he walks away from it all.” He hesitated, forming his thoughts into words, then asked the million-dollar question. “Is he telepathic?”
“Well done.” Frederick smiled slightly. “The evidence thus far — not all of which is at your disposal — is that Wilson has some facility with compulsion.” He glanced to Michael, then explained, “People do what he tells them to. Against their will.”
Michael’s eyes grew wide as his mind was able to bridge gaps with the new piece of information. “Oh my God! So he really did deliberately kill all those kids?”
“The first was pure serendipity. But yes. After that he was fully aware of his capabilities. Each of the later murders was intentional.” He glanced to the screen as the memory of Laurence’s visions threatened to surface. Images of blood, the sound of screaming… He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Laurence witnessed them.”
How? Oh, shit, yeah, he can see the past.
Wait. So he’s in on this Wilson chase too? Which means your brother’s probably involved, right? Okay, so, Laurence has seen Wilson killing kids. And you know because…
Because you read Laurence’s mind?
Oh, fuck. So you’ve seen these kids die? You both have?
That’s messed up!
He nodded to save Michael from having to put all those thoughts and images into words. It was better that way.
Michael gave him a worried frown, but took the hint and looked at the laptop. “So do we know whether any of these people who are living with him have free will?”
“An excellent question.” Frederick leaned back and crossed his legs, then rested his hands in his lap. “There is no evidence either way, but I would suggest that at the very least some of them do not. Mr. Wagner, for instance, is a married man. He has children. Yet he spends his entire life in Wilson’s orbit. He doesn’t go home at night.”
Michael gnawed his lip briefly. “Any of these others got any crazy powers?”
“Ah, you’ve definitely earned a fuck!” He smiled lackadaisically and tilted his head to the side as he eyed Michael.
The response was perfect. Michael’s cheeks argued with his hair to see which was the brightest thing in the room, and his breath picked up right away. He half-rose from his chair, then hesitated. “Now?”
The squeak of hope which formed his question was worth making the boy wait so long. Watching him hover halfway to standing was equally entertaining.
“Depends,” he drawled.
“On?”
Frederick raised his chin. “On whether you beg.”
Now Michael’s cheeks won, outshining his hair by a mile. He finally made it all the way out of the chair. “You,” he rasped. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then tried again. “You want me to beg you to… to fuck me?”
“Try it,” Frederick purred. “You might enjoy it.”
Michael let out a small whine, and his body twisted slowly on the spot as he wrangled with the idea.
I don’t… I don’t beg. Do I? Like a fucking dog? Is that… I mean, it… could be hot?
Jesus, why won’t he just fuck me already? What do I gotta do here?
Dumbass, you know what you gotta do.
Might enjoy it, my ass.
Does sound kinda hot…
Frederick propped an elbow on the arm of his chair, then rested his chin against the backs of his fingers as he watched the war inside Michael play out in intricate detail.
Michael cracked his knuckles together, then glanced away. “Please fuck me,” he mumbled.
Frederick sniffed derisively. “Pardon?”
It took Michael another minute. He fidgeted. He all but danced as he shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. He fussed with his hair. But then he took a deep breath and looked toward Frederick’s knees.
“Please,” he whined. “I’m begging you. Please, fuck me.”
Frederick allowed a smile to flourish, and he stood from his seat.
“Well,” h
e rumbled as he reached for Michael’s wrist and took it in his hand. “As you asked so nicely.”
The whimper of excitement behind him was every bit as rewarding as he’d anticipated.
32
MIKEY
The grip on his wrist was solid. There’d be no wriggling out of it, not even if he tried, and Mikey wasn’t interested in giving it a shot.
Frederick dragged him up the stairs and into his bedroom. He didn’t bother to shut the door, either. He propelled Mikey toward the bed and released him at the last moment, so Mikey staggered and fell against it.
He flung his hands out to stop himself from collapsing onto the bed, but his body trembled with need and he ended up on his elbows to prop himself up.
“Excellent display,” Frederick said. There was amusement in his tone. “Would be better if you didn’t have any clothes on, though. Seven out of ten.”
Heat burned through Mikey’s skin. “Did you just rate my ass?” He pushed himself upright.
“No. Just the mise en scène.” Frederick snorted softly. “Undress.”
“Thought you were British,” Mikey grumbled as he tugged on his t-shirt. He pulled it up over his head and was about to throw it aside when he recalled how neatly Frederick folded away even dirty clothes. He flicked it to straighten it out, then folded it in half and put it over the back of a chair. “What’s with all the French?”
“Oh, and you don’t use Spanish loanwords here in San Diego? Even the name of the bloody city is Spanish.”
Mikey unfastened his fly and frowned. Why the hell was he engaging in a lesson in languages when he was supposed to be getting naked anyway?
“Because you’re attempting to convince yourself that you have some measure of control,” Frederick said. “It’s a defense mechanism.”
He laughed briefly and pushed his pants down. “Yeah? What’m I defending myself against?”
“You don’t want me to explain that right now, do you?”
Mikey frowned a little as he folded the pants and put them over his t-shirt. Arousal was slowly transforming into discomfort, and he didn’t like it. Now wasn’t the time. He’d waited for this, wanted this, so why was his brain fucking him around right now? Right when he was about to get what he’d waited for.
Frederick’s fingers traced a line across Mikey’s shoulders. The warmth from his body radiated across the space between them and heated Mikey’s back.
His breath shook, and his shoulders slowly slumped. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Frederick’s lips pressed against his skin, right in the soft space where his neck became his shoulder.
Mikey gasped at the contact. It was warm, gentle, not at all what he’d expected after he’d been dragged so roughly up to the bedroom, and his head began to droop forward. Tiny little shivers danced up the back of his neck and across his scalp, and his eyelids fluttered in response.
Frederick’s tongue replaced his lips. It was hot, wet, and it ran over his skin like a steamroller. Everywhere it went, sparks followed, and Mikey’s body turned to jello. It didn’t help that while he was licking at Mikey’s skin his fingers were working magic up the back of his neck, into his hair, down across his shoulder, around his waist.
Over his stomach.
He buckled until his knees came to rest against the mattress, and lifted his hands to lightly rest against Frederick’s forearm. Only the feel of linen under his fingertips reminded him that Frederick hadn’t taken off a shred of clothing.
And Mikey didn’t care.
“Your skin is divine,” Frederick rumbled against his skin. “I’d be willing to bet your arse tastes even better.” He withdrew slowly, his fingers brushing over the bulge in Mikey’s briefs before they parted ways altogether. “Go clean yourself up.”
He swayed a little, like suddenly there was a vacuum behind him, but he managed to pull himself together enough to stand. He had to turn around in almost a full circle before he oriented himself right. Frederick’s bedroom wasn’t laid out the same way as his, and things weren’t where he expected them to be.
Frederick gestured to Mikey’s crotch. “You can leave those,” he murmured.
For a weird second he thought Frederick might mean his balls, but when Mikey looked down he figured that probably wasn’t right, and he peeled his briefs off instead. Then, impulsively, he tossed them at Frederick with a sly smile.
Frederick’s hand snapped up at speed and snatched them from the air. He returned Mikey’s smile, then pointed to the bathroom.
“Okay, okay.” Mikey hurried away and made his way into the shower as quick as he could.
Bet your arse tastes better. Clean yourself up.
He ducked under the water and grabbed soap as his cock bobbed to the echo of Frederick’s words.
He’d done stuff in his time. Fucked. Been fucked. Been balls-deep into people’s mouths. But this? Jesus, even the idea of it was crazy. Like, he’d seen it in porn, but figured that was just one of those crazy porn things, or the kind of stuff people did if they had too much time on their hands.
Nobody really ate ass, did they?
If they did, they probably didn’t want it to taste of soap, so after he lathered himself up he made sure to rinse thoroughly. His dick didn’t object to all the attention, either.
Maybe this was how rich people fucked.
He gave the rest of his body a quick wash while he was wet, then left the shower and patted himself dry. He fluffed his hair, then made his way back out to the bedroom.
Frederick hadn’t removed a single thread of his own clothes, and Mikey shivered in sudden, keen anticipation. Where he’d taken away all his armor, Frederick was still in his, and it only served to emphasize the imbalance between them.
He snorted. Imbalance. Even being around Frederick was turning his own vocabulary into something fancier. He’d been smartening up his words, putting a stop to his slang, talking and even thinking like the college kids he used to sell to.
For the first time in his life, something made him want to do better, to be better.
Frederick looked him up and down. For a moment it felt as though he were assessing Mikey, judging him, deciding whether this piece of meat was worthy of his mouth. But the longer it went on, the more it made his stomach flutter and his breath quicken.
Frederick was appreciating him.
Mikey pulled his shoulders up slowly. He raised his head. Rather than remain in his slouch, he drew himself up and didn’t attempt to hide behind his own arms. Forcing them to hang at his sides took effort, and it felt awkward at first, but once he’d done it he kinda liked how exposed it left him. There wasn’t anything hidden from Frederick, and yet he still saw something worth looking at if the way he eyed up Mikey’s body was anything to go by.
“I do,” Frederick confirmed. He moved closer, until his hands could caress Mikey’s shoulders. “Remove my shirt.”
He licked his lips and blinked up at Frederick, but Frederick looked totally serious, so he dropped his gaze and fiddled with the buttons on Frederick’s shirt. It was harder than it looked, taking a shirt off from the wrong angle, and he had to push each button through its hole with more concentration than it should’ve taken. It distracted him so much that when the last one popped free and he was able to push the linen away, the chest it exposed came almost as a shock.
Frederick was seriously built. He had pecs like a weightlifter’s, and a six-pack so clearly defined that it looked like dunes in the goddamn desert. Mikey wanted to touch, but it seemed like it wasn’t his place. People didn’t get to touch art. It was just for looking at.
The art cleared his throat. “I’m waiting.”
Mikey coughed and hurried to push the shirt back further, but every inch it exposed was obscenely beautiful. Even Frederick’s small, hard nipples were perfect, pink against his porcelain skin. The hairs which dusted his body were so pale Mikey didn’t even see them at first, but the more he took in the more h
e could see them, a fine layer which trickled down past his tight belly button and into the waist of his pants.
His palms smoothed over hard shoulders and down firm biceps. It seemed like Frederick was bigger, somehow, without clothes to constrain him or make him look as soft as most other people.
When he managed to reach Frederick’s wrists, the shirt fell away, and Mikey automatically darted aside to catch and fold it. He set it over his own clothes on the chair, then turned back to Frederick and waited.
Frederick nodded. “Good. Now the rest.”
Mikey dipped in again and worked on Frederick’s fly. He had a surreal thought that maybe Frederick was used to his butler undressing him or some shit, but he swept it aside. Now was not the time for his head to start getting in the way.
He eased Frederick’s pants down thighs built like fucking tree trunks, and Frederick stepped out of them for him, which left Mikey faced with boxer briefs that seemed to barely contain a bulge bigger than his own fist.
The sight brought him right back down to where he was. Who he was with.
What they were about to do.
Heat rose in his chest, and he gripped Frederick’s boxers. He wriggled them down, careful not to snag any hairs, until the cock they hid sprang free and pointed right at his face.
“Oh my God,” he choked.
You can’t get that inside anyone, dude!
He gaped at it, almost hypnotized by everything about it, from the ridges of veins to the softness of his foreskin as the glistening head poked free of it.
“I can,” Frederick growled. “And I will. Get on the bed.”
Mikey fumbled the briefs down to Frederick’s ankles, then crawled onto the bed. Air cooled his damp skin as the heat inside him built. He lay on his front and propped his ass up in the air so his own cock didn’t rub against the sheets too hard.
The mattress shifted as Frederick’s weight joined him. Mikey turned his head to rest his cheek against a pillow, but he couldn’t see much more than a pale shape past his own shoulder, and when Frederick’s hands made their way up his legs, he gasped and shivered as their warmth touched his own.
Reeve of Veils (Inheritance Book 4) Page 20