Teddy's Truth

by KD Ellis

  Ian moved up behind him and slid his hands over Teddy’s, not-so-subtly gripping the perfect globes of his ass until Teddy arched back into him. Ian leaned forward to nip at the shell of Teddy’s ear before murmuring a secret.

  “Boy, you ever run across a street like that without me again and you won’t be able to sit on this ass for a week.” He gave it a squeeze for emphasis.

  Teddy moaned. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Go on, then,” Ian slid his hands free and stepped back. “Show Daddy up to your apartment so we can get started.”

  After listening to Teddy’s story, he now understood why he refused to use the small, cramped, rickety elevator. The stairs were hardly better, narrow and bleak, but thankfully, they only had to go to the third floor.

  The super was already waiting, leaning against the wall across from the door, staring at his phone. He was a large man—not fat, just heavily muscled, bulging arms on display beneath a blue tank top, thighs that threatened to split the seam of his jeans. He was taller even than Ian. An ID card was clipped to the hem of his shirt, the name ‘Vik’ printed across in large black letters.

  Vik tucked his phone away as they approached. He frowned at Ian before his gaze landed on Teddy and softened. “Hey, kid. Sorry to hear about the eviction.”

  Teddy shrugged. “My fault, anyway.”

  “Still sucks. I’d have been here to let you in earlier, but I was out of town visiting my sister.” Vik said all this while he pulled out a key ring and sorted through them, finally inserting the right one into the lock and twisting it until it clicked.

  “She have her baby yet?” Teddy asked as the door was pushed open.

  “Nah. She’s big as a house now. I told her she better pop my niece out soon or she won’t fit through the hospital doors.” Vik smirked and stepped out of the way to let Teddy and Ian into the apartment.

  “I bet she had something to say about that.” Teddy said with a laugh.

  “She kicked her shoe at me then made me put it back on her since she can’t reach her feet.” Vik smirked, then sobered slightly and sighed. “Call when you’re ready for me to lock it back up, yeah? I have to go up to 4C to fix a toilet, but I’ll be around.”

  “Thanks, Vik.”

  Ian closed the door behind the superintendent then lifted an eyebrow at Teddy, trying hard not to be jealous. “You guys seem close. Ex-boyfriend?”

  Teddy laughed. “You’re funny. I am so not his type.”

  “Oh, really? I find it hard to believe that a sexy little thing like you isn’t anyone’s type.”

  “Trust me. Vik and I might be great friends, but he and I have way too much in common to be compatible.” Teddy’s eyes roamed over Ian’s body with a hungry look. “Let’s just say that we’d both rather be put on our knees than put someone else there.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the now-closed door that Vik had left through. “Huh.”

  “Shows what you get for stereotyping.” Teddy sniffed like he was insulted, but broke off into the cutest little giggle.

  “Boy, you best start packing or the only thing you’ll be leaving here with is a sore bottom,” Ian said with a groan, adjusting his painfully tight jeans to accommodate his erection.

  “Promises, promises,” Teddy shot him a wicked grin before heading to the kitchen to pull out a handful of garbage bags. When he returned, he was sporting a more serious expression, though his eyes still glinted with humor. “There’s not much I’m worried about, mostly my clothes, some books. Everything else is replaceable.”

  “You go get your clothes. I’ll pack the books.” Ian snagged one of the garbage bags before swatting the tempting ass in front of him as Teddy passed by.

  “Careful, or I’ll lose more clothes than I pack…” Teddy said over his shoulder.

  “Promises, promises…”

  Chapter Thirty

  Teddy sank onto the bare, dingy mattress that took up most of the space in his—or what was formerly his—bedroom. He’d packed a whole quarter of his closet before he’d stumbled on the mouse-nibbled shoe box that he’d shoved under a particularly ugly pair of green suede ankle boots. Quite literally stumbled, and he had the bruise on his shin to prove it.

  Part of him wanted to carry the box to the nearest window and dump it, contents and all, into the alley below. A larger part of him resisted. It was not, however, strong enough to make him open it.

  He knew what was inside—stacks of old pictures, some of him and his mother, some of him and his dad, before the bastard had passed away, some of grandparents he barely remembered. And nine letters, all unopened.

  Reading them wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t fix anything, wouldn’t bring back his inheritance to pay off his debt or strip him of the memory of his mother’s palm cracking across his face. Reading them wouldn’t take away the nights she’d been too drunk to make dinner or the school plays she’d missed, or the feeling that he’d never been quite good enough.

  He tightened his fingers painfully on the edge of the box as anger boiled over. He almost didn’t hear the door opening, or the soft footsteps approaching the mattress, until a pair of jean-clad knees entered his field of vision. Ian crouched down in front of him, concern on his face.

  “Everything okay?” Ian asked.

  Teddy shrugged. “Part of me says these would make really good kindling.”

  Ian reached for the box but hesitated before touching the lid. “May I?”

  “Go for it.” Teddy shoved them out, letting Ian remove the lid and peer inside. The letters glared at him from their place atop the pile. Nine white envelopes with his name written in a messy scrawl across the front.

  Ian picked one up and stared at the stamp, then flipped it over to see the seal still in place. “From your mother?”

  Teddy nodded. “She’s sent one every year on my birthday…and Christmas. Except this year I’ve gotten three already.”

  “Do you want me to read them for you?” Ian asked.

  Teddy almost bit his lip but caught himself, nodding instead. Ian sank onto his butt, crossing his legs. He slid his thumbnail beneath the seal and pulled it open.

  “Wait,” Teddy interrupted and Ian froze. “Can you… I mean…will you read it out loud?”

  “Of course.” Ian pulled a folded piece of white copy paper out of the envelope. Teddy couldn’t read the words from his place on the bed, but he recognized his mother’s messy scrawl, traveling uneven across the page, and knew the water stains were more likely caused by spilled whiskey than tears.

  “This one was from…three years ago,” Ian explained before clearing his throat.

  “Dear Teddy,

  I hope you’re having a good holiday. The house feels really empty without you. I miss you. I don’t remember why you left, but I know it was probably my fault. I’ve stopped drinking. I would love to hear from you.

  Love, your mother.”

  The next few letters went in a similar vein. Greetings and platitudes, reminiscing about good times Teddy barely remembered. A promise that she’d stopped drinking. The unsteadiness of her handwriting made him doubt it. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he listened to the first six letters.

  But Ian hesitated when he got to the next one, the one sent back in February—the first letter she’d sent off schedule. A frown crossed Ian’s face. He glanced up at Teddy before patting his lap. “Come sit on my lap, baby.”

  Teddy didn’t hesitate. He slid off the bed and crawled into Ian’s lap, grateful that his small stature let him tuck himself securely under Ian’s chin. He felt the ghost of a kiss part his hair before Ian cleared his throat. If Teddy wanted, he could look down at the crisp, sterile paper Ian had pulled from the envelope, could read along, but he didn’t. He just listened to the rhythmic notes of Ian’s voice as he started to read.

  “My Dearest Teddy.

  I hope this letter finds you happy and healthy. I have had some time to think recently, and I know that I don’t deserve
your forgiveness. I’ve been going to meetings for a while now. I like to think you’d be proud of me. I’m on step nine now. It has been three months since I’ve touched alcohol. It’s not a lot, but it’s a start. I’m supposed to make amends now. I don’t know how I can fix what I’ve done, though. I don’t remember a lot. And what I do remember makes me want to reach for a bottle to forget again. I remember h—”

  Ian’s voice broke for a second before he started reading again.

  “I remember hitting you. I thought that was something I’d never do. I always promised I’d never be like your dad, but I was, and I’m sorry. I know you must hate me. But that’s okay, because I hate myself too. I’m working on it. I just want you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you.”

  There was no signature at the bottom of the letter, just an XO. Teddy couldn’t help the tears that clung to his eyelashes before spilling down his cheeks. It was how she’d always signed his birthday cards, too.

  “The next one,” Teddy whispered, fingers curling in the cotton of Ian’s shirt, clinging to it like a security blanket.

  “Are you sure? We can—” Ian started to say, hand hovering over the second envelope.

  “I’m sure. The next one. Please.”

  Ian opened the next envelope. It had been sent in early May. It read much the same as the first—apologies that seemed more sincere than the usual ones, an update on her meetings. His mother mentioned her sponsor, an older man named Finnick, often. She wrote about struggling often with her urges, shame bleeding through the ink of her words, but that, more than any of her earlier promises, made him think that maybe, this time, she was serious. Again, she signed it with hugs and kisses.

  The last envelope was the one from the end of August, just over a month ago. Ian pried it open and pulled out the letter.

  “Dearest Teddy.

  I know you’re probably not reading these. I wouldn’t read them either. I just wanted you to know I have been sober for eight months now. I find myself reaching less and less for the bottle, and more and more for your baby pictures. I put that picture of you—the one you hate, I know, but it’s just too cute—on the mantel. You know, the one of you in your princess costume. I’ll never forget the tantrum you threw or how cute you looked pouting. I knew then that you were going to be special. I remember how angry your dad was when you came home in the neighbor boy’s Batman costume, and how Mrs. Knowles laughed at little Timmy trying to walk in your slippers. I guess I’m rambling now. I just miss you.

  Hugs and Kisses,

  Mother.”

  Teddy tried to subtly wipe away the tears tracking their way down his face. “I miss her too.”

  “Have you thought of visiting?” Ian asked, and for a moment, Teddy tensed, hearing an undercurrent of judgement that reason told him didn’t exist. Mutely, he shook his head. “You could, you know. Sometime.” Teddy shrugged. Ian circled Teddy’s wrist-bone gently with his thumb. “I’ll go with you, if you want. If you change your mind.”

  Teddy stilled, biting his lip before he remembered Ian’s warning, then nodded. Maybe, he could visit his mother if Ian was there beside him. He thought maybe he could do anything if Ian was there beside him.

  “I…I gotta finish packing,” Teddy mumbled, scrambling from Ian’s lap before he agreed to something he wasn’t ready for yet. Ian didn’t argue. He just returned the letters to the box and carefully put the lid back on, tucking it under his arm as he stood.

  Ian dropped a kiss on Teddy’s forehead as he passed. “Take your time. I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

  Teddy nodded mutely, no longer paying attention to what he was throwing into the garbage bag at his feet, just wanting to be finished. He tied off the bag, grunting as he hefted it and carried it out into the rest of the apartment, dropping it by the door. Already, there are two smaller, oddly bulging bags waiting, the corners of his books threatening to tear the flimsy plastic. Thankfully, Ian had been smart enough to fill the bags only a third full, so hopefully, they would make it.

  He turned and stared at the rest of the apartment with mixed feelings. Mostly, he was happy to finally be leaving it behind. Staying with Ian for the past few days only highlighted how bad his apartment really was. Still, it was—or had been, at least—his. He couldn’t help the pang of sadness, nor the smaller kernel of fear that thrummed through his chest at the thought of leaving. There would be no more cuddling on the ratty couch with Shiloh, watching movies on his friend’s table or impromptu dance lessons to the thumping bass from the downstairs neighbor at three a.m. And if Ian left him again—with his job, Teddy knew he couldn’t make any promises—Teddy would be on the streets.

  “Ready?” Ian said, pulling Teddy from his thoughts.

  Teddy rubbed the heel of his hand over his sternum then nodded. “Ready.”

  * * * *

  Teddy felt better after Ian had helped him cart his belongings upstairs to the apartment. The first thing he did was shuck his jeans, enjoying the feel of air on his skin. Then he started unpacking. His clothes found a home in one half of Ian’s closet—or two thirds, if he was being technical. Ian’s clothes lined one side of the walk-in, mostly dark jeans and dark suits, and dark button-downs and dark tees. After Teddy hung his final sequined top, he turned, hands on his hips, and looked over Ian’s wardrobe with a critical eye.

  “Ian!” he yelled out into the bedroom. “Daddy!”

  There was a thump, like Ian had dropped something, then heavy footsteps as he hurried to the closet. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

  Teddy shot him a scathing glare. “Yeah, I pinched myself on the hanger. I need you to kiss my booboos.”

  Ian, rather than laugh or scold him for his sarcasm, stepped closer instead and grabbed Teddy’s hand, looking over his fingers critically, though there was a spark of humor in his dark eyes. He lifted each fingertip to his mouth and brushed his lips gently over them. “Better, baby?”

  “Um…” Shit, am I supposed to be able to speak now? “No. Not better. Need more kisses.” He had called Ian in for a reason. A very important, wardrobe-malfunction-related reason, but now all he wanted was for Ian to—

  Ian sucked Teddy’s pointer finger into his mouth, sliding his tongue teasingly over the pads of his fingertips and the crease under his first knuckle, the suction a heady push-and-pull that made Teddy’s dick throb in his jeans. Ian released it with a pop.

  “Daddy…” Teddy moaned and slid closer, plastering himself to Ian’s chest. His eyes widened when Ian shifted, sliding a large thigh between Teddy’s knees, forcing his legs farther apart until Teddy’s groin was firmly pressed against Ian’s thigh. Teddy couldn’t help rocking against it.

  Ian dropped his hands to Teddy’s waist, encouraging him to move, to thrust his hips back and forth against his leg. A small part of him whispered that he should be embarrassed, humping Ian’s thigh like a dog in heat, but a larger part of him shook in pleasure. The embarrassment seemed to feed into it until he could hardly think of anything but the feeling of Ian’s thigh between his legs. He curled his fingers tightly into Ian’s soft cotton shirt and somebody was moaning desperately. Him, he realized, and the realization made him grind his hips harder.

  “That’s a good boy. Fuck Daddy’s thigh. Daddy wants to make you feel good. Come on, baby.” Ian’s words had Teddy shaking. And his hands, urging him faster, had Teddy quivering through an orgasm that left him boneless, collapsing against Daddy’s chest with a sigh.

  Daddy stroked his hands down Teddy’s spine, petting him in soothing circles. Teddy knew he should get off him but his muscles refused to move, unless it was to snuggle closer. “Feel better?” Ian asked eventually, after Teddy’s shaking had stopped and he’d gone boneless instead.

  “Mm-hmm,” Teddy agreed.

  “Sounds like it’s nap time.” Ian chuckled.

  Teddy huffed, his eyes drooping. “I was going to yell at you for your clothes, though.” His voice was whiny, and he shifted his head to glare at th
e dark side of the closet. He snickered.

  “Mm-m. And what’s wrong with my clothing?” Ian sounded amused.

  “Darth Vader called. He wants his wardrobe back.” Teddy cackled. “Look. It’s the dark side!” He pointed at Ian’s side of the closet.

  “Brat.” Ian smacked Teddy’s butt, then practically carried him out of the closet to drop him in the center of the bed. Teddy laughed as the mattress bounced under him. He wasn’t laughing when Ian propped a knee up on the foot of the bed then crawled forward until he sat astride Teddy’s hips. A devilish smile danced on his lips.

  “I thought it was nap time, Daddy,” Teddy teased, working his hands under Ian’s shirt to play with the soft fur on his chest.

  Ian’s smirk widened and he shifted up onto his knees. He skimmed his hands down Teddy’s sides before taking his waist. Then Ian was flipping him over onto his stomach. Teddy gasped as he spun, a gasp that turned to a moan as Ian snagged the waistband of his briefs, lacy and pink and tight. Teddy lifted his hips so Ian could slide them down, but Ian only pulled them low enough to expose his ass, letting them snap into place around his thighs. Teddy panted fast at the restraint, minimal though it was. He felt Ian shift forward, his jeans scraping against Teddy’s bare skin.

  “It’s nap time for little boys,” Ian said, breath ghosting over Teddy’s neck. “Daddy wants to play.”

  Teddy couldn’t see him, but he could hear the grating of a zipper being pulled down slowly, then he felt it…a thick, weeping shaft nestling into his crease. He moaned, and a wet tongue slid from the base of his neck to his ear. “You can stop me whenever you want, baby. Just say…anything.”