Teddy's Truth

by KD Ellis

  Teddy shivered. Ian wanted him to stay quiet through this? He sank his teeth into the pillow to smother a protest.

  “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy won’t fuck you yet. Daddy just wants to play.” Teddy felt Ian’s hips thrust as he spoke, sliding his dick through Teddy’s cleft, and it was like lightning coursing through his entire body.

  God, Ian was going to murder him.

  Ian could watch his dick sliding between the firm cheeks of Teddy’s ass all day. Already, it was weeping, leaving clear streaks along the paler flesh he slid between. “Such a pretty ass, baby,” Ian murmured, sliding his hands down Teddy’s sides and over his hips, until he was kneading the fleshy globes with each thrust.

  He could tell Teddy wanted to speak—to urge him to go faster or harder. Teddy was biting the pillow hard enough that Ian was surprised he wasn’t inhaling feathers. Ian slowed his thrusts instead, leaning forward until he lay, chest to back, against Teddy. He pressed a kiss to the back of Teddy’s neck, savoring the taste of his sweat, the sound of his breath drawing in. “Such a good boy for me.”

  Teddy’s whole body shook at the words, and the telltale signs of his climax—the curling of his fingers in the sheets, the broken breaths, goosebumps along his spine—spurred Ian faster, until he spilled his seed across Teddy’s lower back.

  Teddy unclenched his jaw from the pillows to say, “Daddy made a mess.”

  “Then Daddy should clean it up.” Ian slid lower, until he could trace the milky white trails painting Teddy’s flesh with his tongue. His cum was bitter, but it was worth it to feel the shiver that spread through Teddy’s body. “Better?”

  Teddy smirked over his shoulder. “I’m still sticky.”

  Ian landed a playful slap to Teddy’s ass, watching it jiggle. Teddy yelped in surprise. “You can take a bath later. It’s nap time.”

  “I’m not tired,” Teddy protested. But his eyes, still shadowed in bruises, drooped from fatigue.

  “Tell you what, baby. Close your eyes for fifteen minutes, and if you’re still not tired, you can get up.” Ian slid off Teddy to lie beside him instead, shifting the smaller man around until he fit comfortably under his chin, his head on his chest.

  Teddy grumbled under his breath but didn’t protest. Instead, he snuggled closer and sighed. Ian wasn’t surprised when he fell asleep well before the fifteen minutes were up. Besides the stress of moving, he was still recovering from his ordeal at the hands of the cartel. It only made Ian more resolved to see them brought down.

  He tightened his arms around Teddy. He would do whatever it took to keep his boy safe.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Teddy woke alone, one arm stretched across the mattress, like he’d been reaching for Ian in his sleep but had come up empty. He yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Ian?” he called, levering himself up. He was met with silence.

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a second yawn teasing its way free. His jaw clicked as it stretched. “Ian?”

  He padded on bare feet out of the bedroom and into the rest of the apartment, peering into each room. Maybe Ian had headphones in or something.

  Instead, what he found was a small yellow square stuck to the fridge.

  Out for work. Dinner in fridge. Be a good boy and EAT. XO.

  Teddy glared at the sticky note. Apparently, he’d slept longer than he meant to if Ian had left before he woke, but seriously? Ian thought he was going to be able to sit here and eat like nothing was wrong, all the while knowing that Ian had left to go play with gang members? Or…provide backup for the agent playing with gangsters, but whatever…

  Fuck that.

  He’d go downstairs and see if they needed help at the bar, instead. At least then, his hands would stay busy.

  He was halfway dressed when his phone rang on the nightstand. Teddy crawled across the mattress and snagged it, then cursed as he spotted the caller ID. Blood, Sweat and Shears.

  He thumbed the green button and yanked the phone off the charger hard enough that it disconnected from the wall in his haste to get it to his ear. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Joel. I wasn’t paying attention to the day, I totally forgot I had a shift I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed, I am so sorr—”

  Joel interrupted him, “Calm down, Teddy. It’s not a big deal. I was just worried when you didn’t show up. I thought maybe something happened since you’re never late. Show up whenever, okay? I don’t have any classes scheduled until tomorrow anyway.”

  After a few more apologies, Teddy disconnected the call. His stomach dropped when he saw the bright red missed call from Antonio’s. Santiago must have called when he was sleeping. He held his breath when he opened the voicemail, preparing for the tirade.

  “Hey, Teddy. Sorry to call so close to your shift, but don’t bother coming in this morning. Actually, the boss doesn’t need you back until Monday, but make sure you report to his office first thing.”

  Teddy let out a gasp of relief. At least he hadn’t missed his shift, even if there was a knot in his stomach at the thought of not working through the weekend then having to see the big boss himself. He had a sinking suspicion that he knew what the man was going to say. He’d lost more shifts than he’d worked lately, ever since the man’s nephew had started working and they’d cut his hours.

  He stripped off the booty shorts he’d just tugged on and scrambled into the closet for a pair of plain blue jeans instead. He threw on a pair of his new Chucks that Ian had insisted on buying him—not that he was complaining, because he loved them, especially because they were pink—then topped it off with a pretty blue Henley. He spent longer than he’d hoped reapplying his makeup to cover the bruises, then shoved his phone into his pocket.

  He left the apartment and took the stairs two at a time. He was in too big a rush to do more than hesitate at the back door, then sprint, his heart pounding, through the alley and out onto the sidewalk. He slowed to avoid running into a businessman thumbing through his phone hurrying in the same direction he was in, but otherwise he moved as quickly as he could.

  Joel might not be worried about him being late, but he was. He hated being late to anything, but especially to work. Thankfully, Blood, Sweat and Shears wasn’t too far away from Envy.

  Blood, Sweat and Shears looked like a boutique from the outside. Its skeleton was a Queen Anne house in miniature, complete with a slender portico on the verandah, an octagonal tower so small it was surely only decorative, and a single gable. What color it had originally been was a mystery. It had been repainted in shades of bubblegum pink and ivory.

  Teddy pushed through the glass door that completed the house’s transition from home to business. He’d been working here for nine months but still got stuck in the entryway each time, unable to pull his eyes from the interior. He guessed from the slate mantel left in place behind what was now the line of hair stations on the left, the elegant mahogany wall behind the washing stations to the right and the remnants of the gold-embossed wallpaper behind the check-in desk, that the large, open floor salon had once encompassed the entry way, gentlemen’s lounge and parlor.

  Teddy loved the way the salon somehow managed to transition from Victorian splendor to modern chic in a way that blended so beautifully. If he looked, it was easy to see the history left in the details—the scrollwork carved into the wooden door frames, the marble flooring, the elegant cornices. But the salon had been built seamlessly around those details.

  “Excuse me.” A petite woman carefully shifted to get around him.

  Teddy flushed, stepping out of the doorway. “Sorry.” How many people had watched him stop and gawk like a tourist at the Governor’s Mansion?

  He hurried over to the desk.

  Delia looked up with a pleasant smile that widened when she spotted him. “Teddy!”

  Teddy’s cheeks flushed further at the warm greeting. He liked Delia. She was always friendly, but he suspected she was more Shiloh’s friend than his. The two could get lost in conversations about
gay romances for hours.

  “Hey, Delia. Your hair looks nice.” It was pink now, much brighter than the magenta she’d sported when he’d seen her at the beginning of the week. It made her olive skin glow.

  “Thanks.” She reached up to play with a few of the strands for a second. “Amy’s coming home tomorrow.” Amy was Delia’s girlfriend. She’d been away since the beginning of the year, visiting her mother in Michigan, so he’d never met her.

  “I think she’ll like it.” Teddy hurried to reassure her, sensing a bit of uncertainty in Delia’s voice.

  “You think?” Delia’s smile wavered for a minute before it snapped back in place. “Yeah, I bet she will. Oh, um…here… I’ll let you upstairs. You probably want to get to work.”

  “Thank you.” Teddy followed her around the half-circle desk, waiting while she unlocked the door that led to the upstairs. He started up, then paused, turning back around. “But seriously, Delia. Don’t worry. Your hair looks great. Amy will love it.”

  Delia blushed, but this time, she looked like she believed him. “Thanks, Teddy.” He started up the stairs, the click of the door shutting behind him echoing like a gunshot. His spine stiffened, a sweat breaking out on his forehead.

  He’d never noticed how narrow the stairway was—how dark, with the doors at both the bottom and top shut tight. He swallowed and looked up, and up…the stairs stretching like a mountain above him, walls leaning toward him.

  He squeezed his eyes closed. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “Everything is fine. One step at a time.” Eyes clenched shut, he stepped up, then again. His hand stretched in front of him, he didn’t open his eyes until his palm struck the wooden door and he fumbled it open.

  He drew in a shaky breath as he staggered into the studio on the other side. The tight band around his chest unclenched, his breath releasing. He was fine. Everything was fine. He rubbed his palm over the center of his chest, taking a second to calm down before analyzing the studio like he did every time.

  The original carpeting had been torn out, the hardwood floor refinished and polished until it shone. Several exercise mats were stacked, awaiting cleaning, against the row of mirrors built over the windows on the far wall. A pair of ballet barres stretched along the mirrors on the side walls.

  The studio wasn’t hard to clean, just time-consuming. He had worked out a pretty good system, though. Mirrors first, though the cuts on his feet stung when he stretched on tiptoes to reach the top. Then he wiped down the mats and put them away. A quick sweep later, and the only thing left to do was polish the floor. It was the most difficult part of the job, since it required him to get on his hands and knees and work the entire surface with small circles. And missing a spot could leave it streaky or off color. Today, it was even harder, since the homemade polish—olive oil and vinegar—stung his still-sore hands.

  “Looking good,” a familiar voice said from the doorway when he was just over halfway finished.

  Teddy sank back onto his heels and swiped at the hair that sweat had plastered to his forehead. He turned to smile at his boss over his shoulder, “Thanks, Joel. It should be dry enough to walk on in a few hours, but I would stay off it until then.”

  Joel was the owner of both the kickboxing studio, where he taught self-defense classes twice a week, and the salon downstairs. Teddy thought he looked more suited to one job than the other, even if he felt guilty for stereotyping. But Joel had muscles on his muscles and wore tight tank tops that showed them off. He looked like he should be on the cover of a bodybuilding magazine, not dying and cutting hair. Despite his appearance, Teddy knew Joel had a whole host of awards for the salon.

  Joel’s near-permanent smile slid off his face. “Are those bruises?” He stepped closer, not caring that his shoes scuffed the freshly polished floor.

  “You’re leaving marks,” Teddy pointed out, rather than answer.

  Joel stopped walking immediately, chagrin crossing his face for a second. “Sorry. I’ll fix it later. But seriously, Teddy, what happened?”

  Teddy shrugged. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Joel looked clearly torn between whether to press the issue or not. “I know that I’m your boss, and it’s not really my place, so stop me if I make you uncomfortable, but if you’re in a bad situation, I can help, okay? There’s a place called HOPE. They provide housing, counseling, anything you need, really.” Teddy frowned, not sure why Joel thought he’d need help with housing, since it wasn’t like he’d advertised that he’d been evicted. Then it cleared up when Joel added, “You don’t have to stay with someone who’s abusing you.”

  “Oh. Oh! No, no one’s abusing me. Not like that. I…I mean, obviously, you can tell the bruises aren’t from like, tripping or something,” Teddy felt himself flush, “But it’s not like, domestic violence or anything. It’s more like a mugging. Not really a mugging, but… Well, I’m perfectly safe in my living arrangement. But thank you for worrying. I appreciate the thought.”

  Joel eyed him for a minute, clearly trying to figure out if he was lying, then nodded. “Okay. If you say so. But seriously… If you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

  “Promise. But I don’t.” Teddy smiled brightly back, then waved the rag he was using to polish the floor with. “I’ll just finish this up, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Take your time. You’re not in my hair at all,” Joel lingered awkwardly in the doorway before slipping back downstairs.

  * * * *

  Ian was still gone when Teddy meandered into the kitchen. He had an hour or so still until his shift at Envy was due to start, so he pulled the plate Ian had made for him out of the fridge, stomach growling at the delicious smell that wafted off it, even cool.

  It was some type of fish—not salmon, or cod, but he couldn’t tell what it was—grilled and plated with rice and a yellowish bean on the side. It looked like something he’d eat at Mama Romero’s, and when he tasted it, he nearly moaned. It was the perfect blend of spices, something he’d never be able to replicate, no matter how hard he tried. Not even with a recipe at his fingertips.

  As much as he wanted to savor the dinner, he was hungry enough that he practically inhaled it. The only good thing about eating so fast was that it gave him time to linger in the shower, letting him wash off the stench of vinegar and sweat before it was time to head downstairs. He wished Ian were there. Johnny had picked up quickly that Ian didn’t want Teddy on the platforms—mostly because it was obvious how much Teddy didn’t want to be on the platforms—so it was rare that he was stuck there lately. Unfortunately, with Ian gone for the night, Johnny met him before he’d even rounded the bar.

  “I want you on the platforms.” Johnny’s leer widened at Teddy’s grimace.

  Teddy knew Johnny wanted him to beg to work the bar. The bastard was a sick fuck who got off on his discomfort. He refused to play that game. He stripped off his apron and tossed it at Johnny rather than hanging it back up, then turned to cross the floor.

  He was stopped by Johnny’s hand clamping down on his bicep, hard enough to hurt.

  “The fuck, man?” Teddy snapped, yanking it free and rubbing the already-red skin.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Johnny’s eyes dipped lower, staring pointedly at the crotch of Teddy’s panties.

  “Like…?” Teddy trailed off, not sure what the issue was. He always wore the pink Spanx on Mondays.

  Johnny leaned over the bar. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then lowered his voice. “Your, um…your packer?”

  Teddy frowned, arms crossing. “What about it?” He hadn’t worn it since that night, the night he’d thought was going to be the last. He wanted to live true to himself. He would never begrudge someone else their packer. He knew that for some men it was the only way they felt comfortable in their masculinity. It just wasn’t for him. He didn’t need—or want—one for himself.

  “You’re not wearing it.” Johnny said it like he thought Teddy had just managed to overlook it.


  “I know. What about it?” Teddy straightened his spine and glared at the taller man, daring Johnny to comment again.

  Johnny, however, was an idiot who didn’t know when to let a subject die. “You’re not wearing it. You should go and get it. You’ll look weird without a…um,” Johnny waved awkwardly at Teddy’s crotch again.

  “Without a dick?” Teddy prompted with exasperation. “I have a dick. I don’t need a fake one to make it bigger. So, unless you’re going to tell me to go find a pillow to shove in my panties to make my ass look bigger too, why don’t you just chill the fuck out and let me go embarrass myself, hmm?”

  Johnny’s face turned a shade of red Teddy’d never seen before, which looked remarkably odd, considering his mouth had pinched tight enough to turn his lips white. Rather than wait for the outburst, Teddy spun on his black satin heels and strutted away from the bar, letting his hips sway as they wished, then ascended as elegantly as he could—which was to say, not at all—onto the platform closest to the bathrooms.

  He peered through the dimness of the club at the other platforms, trying to figure out which dancer had called off to land him on one. He frowned and skimmed over them again. Where is Shiloh?

  AJ caught his eye from the platform that was usually Shiloh’s and lifted an eyebrow. Lips moving with exaggeration, he mouthed, “Where’s Shy?”

  AJ shrugged. Teddy had left his phone in his locker and wouldn’t be able to check it until after his first set, at the earliest.

  Twenty minutes had never crept by so slowly. The first thing he did when the spotlight above him flickered off and he’d safely clambered back down onto the dance floor was hurry into the dressing room and dig out his phone.

  No missed calls, no texts, which was odd because Shiloh almost always let him know when he wasn’t coming. Teddy tried to call him twice, but it just rang and rang until he reached Shiloh’s voicemail both times.