by Onley James
He’d enjoyed being an interrogator. He’d enjoyed analyzing his mark, learning their triggers, their weaknesses, their breaking points. It wasn’t about the information… it was about cracking them open and seeing what was inside.
He hadn’t expected to find anything nearly as interesting in the civilian world. But now there was this boy—Elijah—and he was a bright, shiny puzzle, something new and different. All Shep wanted was to open him up and slip inside. The thought brought a smile to his face. The first real smile he’d had in a very long time.
“Now you played football yourself, didn’t you?” Glenda Gannon asked. “Did you find it helped lend some authenticity to the role?”
Elijah gave a low chuckle. “Yeah, I played up to my junior year of high school back in Montana. My grandpa was big on team sports. Said they built character. Probably would have kept playing if I hadn’t torn my ACL.” It was only a little white lie. He tried to lead her away from talking about his life outside of Hollywood. That was his and his alone. “Most of the actors on the team had played football at some point. It made it easier with blocking and filming, even though we all had doubles, we still had to memorize and run the plays for the close-up shots.”
There was a gleam in the girl’s eye as she leaned in. It was all the warning Elijah needed to know she was about to go off-script. “Yeah, but you being a gay football player in high school must have given you a bit of inside knowledge into how your character felt about having to hide who he was? Any secret high school boyfriends you want to come clean about?”
Bitch. He forced a laugh. “I never thought of myself as closeted or hiding. Sure, I didn’t date boys in high school, but I wasn’t dating girls either. My grandpa was very strict and there was always work to be done on the ranch, which left me not much time for a social life. Most people knew that. Nobody ever asked about my sexuality, and I never felt the need to tell them. It never hindered my ability to play ball.”
The reporter’s lids fluttered like a robot resetting itself before she seemed to move on. “Speaking of dating, you certainly seem to have a social life now. How’s Robby? We had him on the show a week ago and he was just raving about you. He’s clearly quite smitten. How about you?”
Elijah sighed internally. Robby. He was the hardest thing to fake. He forced a fond expression onto his face, false enthusiasm for a boy who deserved far better than Elijah. “Robby is… he’s perfect. Handsome, funny, charming. Exactly who he seems. I’m… very lucky.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly.
He fought the urge to look towards Shepherd. What was he thinking? Did he believe Elijah? Did he think he and Robby were a real couple? The thought added another knot in his stomach. Why did one stranger’s opinion hold so much weight? Was he out there watching or had he escaped for another smoke break?
“We’re so happy for you. But let’s get back to why we’re here. Your Oscar. How does it feel to win Best Actor at just twenty-two years old?”
His stomach rolled. “It’s been a week since the awards and it still doesn’t quite feel real.”
“Well, I think it’s just the first of many wins to come. You’re clearly keeping your grandfather’s legacy alive.” She shifted in her seat. “Tell us a little about your upcoming project, The Silencer. You play a teen serial killer, obsessed with a girl you meet at the library. Are you excited to start filming? How does one prepare for a role like that? It seems so unlike you.”
“Not if you really knew me,” he deadpanned.
For the first time in the interview, her smile slipped, but she recovered quickly. “Did you do any special prep for the role?”
“I watched a lot of interviews with killers like Ed Kemper and Ted Bundy. We will have a technical advisor on set who profiled killers for the FBI. I’m excited. I think it will be fun trying to find the humanity in a character whose actions seem inhumane.”
Glenda’s voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “A certain big-name publication has floated a rumor that you’ve landed a starring role in the Empire saga. A role several A-list stars have been vying for over the last several months. Do you feel this shows that equality is heading in the right direction by casting a gay man as a superhero?”
She was obviously hoping to catch Elijah off-guard, but Lucifer had warned him this might happen. She was always ten steps ahead. Maybe she really was a demon. “As far as I know, the role is still open to anybody until the studio says otherwise. I can say that the industry seems to be moving towards creating more opportunities for LGBT characters and becoming more accepting of queer actors, even though it’s taken far too long.”
“It seems the rumors were enough to spark some nasty comments on Twitter. Are you just taking a short break from social media? Do you think you’ll reactivate your accounts? Is your team taking the death threats seriously?”
She knew his team was taking them seriously. He had an impossible-to-miss bodyguard. “I took a social media break because people can’t stop sending me pics of my own nudes.” He looked at the camera. “Get some new material guys, I’ve been looking at myself naked for twenty-two years.”
Glenda gave a big fake laugh as if his answer delighted her. “Thank you so much for joining us today. We cannot wait to see you in Cannes for your next release.” The moment the camera was off, she threw a glare in his direction. “Don’t ad lib, asshole.”
Elijah snorted. “Right back at ya. If Lucifer finds out that you went off-script about a role we’ve yet to announce she’ll scalp you and make a wig for her Lhasa Apso.”
She gave him the finger before turning and walking away. He stood, slipping off the mic and sidestepping the camera. He sucked in a startled breath as he almost walked straight into Shepherd. He didn’t move, just stared at him with those intense golden eyes, making Elijah feel small even at six-foot-two. Elijah’s skin suddenly felt too tight. “Are you gonna just stand there? I want to go home.”
Was it wrong that Elijah liked how much larger Shepherd was than him? His gaze drifted to the older man’s calloused hands. Could he pick Elijah up? Hold him down? Force him into any position he wanted? Maybe Charlie and Wyatt were right, maybe Elijah just needed to get laid.
“You coming?”
Elijah’s head jerked up. “What?” he asked, startled.
“You said you wanted to leave, but now you’re just standing there, staring at my hands.”
“I wasn’t staring at your anything. I just zoned out. Too many edibles today.”
Shepherd snorted. “Sure, rabbit. Whatever you say.”
Once outside, Elijah collapsed into the back of the limo, Shepherd climbing inside after him. He settled into the seat just across from Elijah, much to Elijah’s dismay. He chewed on the inside of his lip, pretending to scroll on his phone. The entire interview, all he could do was think about Shepherd watching the camera, watching him, now it felt like the man had x-ray vision and could see right through him. Elijah both loved and hated the thought in equal measure.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a football player,” Shepherd finally said, the low timbre of his voice making Elijah want to lean in.
He flicked his gaze to Shepherd’s face, his expression just short of hostile. It was a statement, not a question. Even though Shepherd said it with no malice, it still it rankled. “Let me guess, I struck you like more the cheerleader type?” he asked, letting his voice lilt into his natural register.
Elijah didn’t know why Shepherd’s question irritated him, except maybe because he was right. Elijah wasn’t a football guy. He hated sports, hated beer, hated action movies, couldn’t give even one fuck about cars or engines. He hated pretty much anything people pegged as hyper-masculine, yet in high school, he’d forced himself to do all of it. Every single one. Football had never been his grandpa’s idea. It was all Elijah. He’d needed to prove himself, needed to prove he could turn it on when he had to. He excelled at blending. His grandpa had called him a chameleon, but Elijah called it what it was… self-preservation.
The weight of his stare was making Elijah want to squirm. “Oh, well, you’ve known me all of about four hours, I can see how you’d have me all figured out,” Elijah snarked.
“I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface,” Shepherd murmured. “But I’m guessing that’s because you haven’t either.”
Was he calling Elijah shallow? Claiming he didn’t know who he really was? It was true, Elijah supposed, but still fuck Shepherd for ferreting that out already. It was all Lucifer’s fault for bringing Shepherd there before Elijah had time to prepare, to put his game face on. Now, Shepherd had peeked behind Elijah’s curtains and he wasn’t sure how to close them again or if he even wanted to. Pretending to be somebody else all the time was exhausting. Being Elijah was exhausting.
“Well I’m sure by the time I’m your age, I’ll have had plenty of time for introspection. You're like what? Fifty or something?”
Elijah wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to accomplish with the crack about Shepherd’s age, but his only response was a wide grin that left Elijah feeling both stabby and horny.
“Forty-two, but I imagine you’ll figure yourself out long before then.”
There was something about the older man, a presence, a smooth animalistic grace, the way his grin widened enough to reveal pointy canines… it made him seem supernatural. The notion sent a shiver along Elijah’s spine but also kept him from looking away. The way Shepherd examined him… the way his eyes held this almost predatory gleam… Elijah half expected him to lick his chops like a wolf who’d locked eyes on his prey. Was Elijah his prey?
Rabbit, that’s what I’ll call you.
Elijah’s heart jackrabbited in his chest as his own thoughts ran wild, proving Shep’s assessment correct. What was it about Shepherd? On the surface, he appeared no different than any other bodyguard. Maybe a tad bold for somebody supposed to be just an employee, but not overly inappropriate. Still it rang… false. It triggered the barest hint of something deep in Elijah’s brain, like a memory he couldn’t quite place, a chemical response that screamed at Elijah to be afraid.
But he wasn’t. He almost laughed when he realized the truth. Elijah had spent most of his life hiding, hiding from the demons of his past, hiding who he truly was from the world. Yet, there he sat with a man who should scare the fuck out of him and yet all he wanted to do was get closer and he was almost certain Shepherd knew it.
But what the hell was Elijah supposed to do about it?
Shep glanced at his phone as another round of laughter echoed through the house and through his closed bedroom door just at the top of the stairs. Elijah was entertaining Linc’s fiancé, Wyatt, and a dark-haired girl named Charlie. It was just past midnight and the three showed no signs of slowing down. Both Elijah and the girl were drunk, but Wyatt appeared sober… loud, but sober. Elijah should be asleep. He had a photo shoot scheduled with Vogue at five, which meant corralling him into the car by at least four.
Shep should have made the rules clear before he’d left to meet with the community’s security staff, but they’d returned too late. By the time Shep linked the security camera’s feed to his laptop and a rundown of the community’s layout, Elijah was already tipsy, wandering around barefoot in nothing but tight leather pants slung low on his hips, his glossy chin-length hair pushed away from his face with a thick leather headband, making him look more like some debauched rock star than an actor.
The combined shrieks of laughter and the stench of acetone had driven Shep to his room where he’d spent the rest of the night testing the security system, changing the codes, and making sure the monitor's timestamps were correct. With that task finished, he wanted to set the alarm and go to bed, but he couldn’t, not while Elijah was still conscious. Instead, Shep lay in bed with his laptop.
He gave a deep sigh as music swelled through the house; a slow song with a throbbing bass beat. He didn’t get up, just flipped to the camera focused on the cavernous living room. Wyatt and Charlie lay on the sectional, but Elijah was standing up on the large piece of driftwood that served as a coffee table. Shep zoomed in, curious.
At some point, Elijah had slipped away to put on more clothes. He now wore a black button-down shirt and a fedora. Shep watched, transfixed, as Elijah moved, his hips swiveling in a figure-eight motion, arms above his head like a belly dancer as he seemed to lose himself in the music. The hat went first, flung somewhere off-camera. Shep brought his laptop closer as the boy worked open the buttons on his shirt with nimble fingers. He zoomed-in again until the boy’s face was all he saw. Shep could only describe Elijah’s expression as… blissful. His eyelids were at half-mast, his wet lips parted. Shep couldn’t look away.
Shep frowned as his cock hardened against his zipper. It was the second time Elijah had given him an erection in one day, which may as well have been a record for Shep. Sex held no real fascination for him, even though as teens his brother had assured him almost daily that it should. Not that he didn’t enjoy the sensations, but orgasms were unnecessary to his survival and therefore rarely at the forefront of his mind. Jerking off was easier, less complicated. It just made more sense.
But this was different. It wasn’t about the flesh revealed. Elijah had been naked just hours before and shirtless all night. It was Elijah’s face, the blissed-out dreamy expression as he removed his clothes, his hands brushing over his own body like he was alone. It was captivating. Shep widened the shot just as Elijah’s hands brushed along his abdomen, his long fingers unhooking the snap on his pants, Wyatt and Charlie screaming their encouragement.
Shep snapped his laptop shut, getting to his feet. The boy was clearly intoxicated and, even with friends, he might regret his strip tease tomorrow. Shep made sure his shirt hid his rather obvious arousal then headed downstairs arriving just as Elijah swung around, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his open pants. His hands stuttered to a stop when he saw Shep.
“Party’s over, rabbit. It’s bedtime.”
Elijah hopped off the table, his knees wobbling enough for Shep to reach out and steady him. He noted the boy’s glazed eyes as he blinked up at him, expression pouty. “Listen, Tormund Giantginger, you don’t get to tell me when my party’s over. I’m famous. Super famous,” he hiccupped comically. He pointed at nothing. “I even have a gold statue to prove it. You can’t tell super famous people what to do. We tell you what to do. We do what we want us to do.”
Shep couldn’t help but smile. The kid was wasted. “You can walk to your room on your own or I’ll fling you over my shoulder and carry you. Your choice, rabbit, but you might want to choose the less humiliating option.”
Elijah’s pupils dilated and his teeth sank into his lower lip in a way Shep itched to explore further. There was no missing the interest in the boy’s blown-wide pupils or in the way his chest rose and fell, but his expression grew stormy. “Shepherd no-last-name. Killer of fun. Fun killer,” Elijah slurred.
Shep snorted a laugh, glancing over at Wyatt. “You sober enough to drive her home, or do I need to call you both an Uber?”
Wyatt examined Shep for a long moment, before saying, “I’m sober. I don’t drink anymore. We’ll be fine.”
“No, don’t go. You don’t have to listen to him,” Elijah begged.
Wyatt was already shaking his head. “Nah, man. It’s cool. Linc doesn’t like me out too late, and I’ve got to pour this one into bed first.”
Elijah turned accusing eyes back to Shep. “You suck.”
Shep lowered his voice so only Elijah could hear. “Would that make you happy?”
Elijah inhaled sharply, his lips parting in a way that had Shep wanting to know what other noises he could drag from those cherry red lips.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Okay, then. We’re just gonna… go…” The boy did one more look between the two men before blowing out a breath. “Yeah, okay, you two don’t care. Cool. Let’s go, Boozie McGee.”
Wyatt hauled Charlie to
her feet with some effort, before giving one last wave. Elijah never even acknowledged his friends’ departure, staring up at Shep like he might live or die based on whatever Shep did next. He couldn’t recall another person ever looking at him like that, even when he held their lives in his hands. It was a heady feeling, one Shep wanted to explore further. He realized then that his hands were still around the boy’s toned upper arms, his skin warm and flushed from the alcohol.
He turned Elijah towards his bedroom door. “Bed, now. Do not make me come to check on you.”
Shep gave him a gentle shove. The boy took two steps before throwing one more sulky look over his shoulder. “You can’t just come in here and boss me around. You work for me. I boss you around,” he said.
Shep closed the distance between them, his chest pressing against Elijah’s back. He leaned down until his lips were against Elijah’s ear, inhaling the boy’s scent. It kicked up this foreign yet instinctive response in him. “You want to boss me around, rabbit. Would that make you happy?”
Elijah leaned his weight into Shep, tilting his head just enough for Shep’s lips to brush his cheek, then he was stumbling away, scrambling as quickly as he could in his inebriated state. Shep stared after him for a long while. Run, little rabbit. Run while you still can. The boy was perfect. So fucking perfect. Jackson had given him such an unexpected gift in Elijah.
He did one more sweep of the house before setting the alarm and heading back to his room. He switched into a pair of flannel pajama pants and lost his t-shirt, storing his Glock in the top drawer of the nightstand for easy access. He did his best to fall asleep, but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Elijah staring up at him with those glacier blue eyes, his lips parted and pupils blown wide.