Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (12 page)

Tai came out of the kitchen with two plates of scrambled eggs and toast. “I told you she was a rescue. Rescued her from a dogfighting ring.”

“God damn them straight to hell.” Beach put his orange juice down and held Jez’s head. “There isn’t enough punishment on earth for anyone that low.” He murmured the last in a tone to soothe the anxious look in her eyes.

“Agreed. She was the only one who wasn’t destroyed.”

Beach may not have known Tai long, but his feelings were plain in his deep voice. He was a man of honor and kindness, and he’d fought hard to save Jez from where she’d been.

“Not only are you a pretty girl but lucky too,” Beach cooed, rubbing behind her ears. “And such a sweetheart. Not even begging.” He nodded at the food on the coffee table.

Jez sighed and plopped her head in Beach’s lap.

“She’s usually more shy around strangers.”

Beach leaned back against the cushions, stroking the dog’s neck, and glanced over at Tai. “My charm works well on the ladies.”

Tai’s aborted laugh made Jez jerk up her head. She backed away and went around to Tai’s side of the couch and sat. “Good girl.” Tai hand-fed her a blob of egg, and after she’d gulped it and licked her muzzle, she lowered herself to the floor at Tai’s feet.

“But I never thought to hand-feed them,” Beach added.

“You’re not feeding yourself,” Tai pointed out.

Beach scooped up the plate and picked at the eggs. He missed the dog. Without her as a distraction, he was too conscious of the tug inside him. It wanted him to push Jez out of the way to kneel at Tai’s feet. And every pull of it was met with disgust from Beach’s brain demanding to know what kind of man wants to grovel like a dog for another.

He took a bite of toast and forced it past the tightness in his throat, then washed it down with orange juice.

“Feeling better?” Tai said.

Fine and dandy, thank you.
The lie came so fast it was almost past Beach’s lips before he pinched them shut. Instead he shrugged. “What did you call it? Sub drop?”

Tai nodded.

“And it’s like a sex hangover?”

Tai studied Beach in a way that made him think he was missing a big part of the answer. “Have you ever had that feeling after sex before?”

“No.” Beach put his plate on the coffee table.

Tai’s tone was far away from the force of his Sir voice and the bourbon-sweet urges when he had Beach spread out and moaning. It was direct, unemotional. Like—a probation officer going over the rules.

“What you felt is a reaction from the kind of sex we had, a sharp physical and emotional drop after a scene.”

“A D/s scene.” The unfamiliar phrase stalled and stuttered on its way out of Beach’s mouth.

“Yes.” Tai’s lips twisted with a hint of humor. “I don’t know if anyone has done the research with electrodes and blood samples, but it’s similar to the feelings athletes go through. Endorphins get released and make you feel high, then you crash.”

“And that always happens?”

“Not always. It depends on the person. Doms can experience it too.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“But worth it.”

Beach couldn’t deny that. He wished he were the sort of person this sub drop didn’t happen to, but he wouldn’t trade away the incredible heights he’d had. The pull was still there, wanting Tai’s attention, his notice, his approval. Beach glanced at Jez, and she lifted her head and made a whistling sigh.
Poor Jez. I know just how you feel. Damn him.

Tai had them both panting after a look or a touch. Beach certainly didn’t feel the need to be the alpha male, the necessary posturing and confrontation were much too tedious, but he wasn’t ready to surrender every ounce of dignity for something that felt good. He hadn’t done that since he was fifteen and panting over his roommate. Then he found out it wasn’t only Gavin Montgomery who could fuck him like that.

Tai went on in lecture mode. “It’s usual for submissives to need contact with the Dominant after the scene, to ease—”

“Wait. I thought this was about the subm—me—meeting your needs.”

“D/s meets both our needs.”

With a jolt that flung him to his feet, want and shame blazed in Beach’s gut. “I sure as hell didn’t
need
that cold shower you shoved me into.”

“David, sit down.” The words, the force of Tai’s voice, pushed Beach back onto the couch.

He placed his palms flat against the cushion on either side of his thighs, as surprised by the outburst that had dragged him up as the obedience that had dropped him back down.

Beach didn’t do anger. It was a waste of a good time. Like jealousy. If he couldn’t charm it, buy it or change it, he ignored it.

“Can you control yourself?” Tai asked.

“Of course I can control myself.” Beach drew himself up straight and glared at Tai.

The slant of Tai’s brows and the shift in his mouth made Beach consider the last few seconds of his behavior. “Uh, I can now.” There was probably supposed to be a
Sir
tacked to the end of that, but Beach didn’t feel like adding it.

“Okay.” Tai’s dark eyes held Beach’s gaze, demanding his attention. “You did need it and you wanted it and you asked for it.”

Beach opened his mouth, but Tai went on.

“You disobeyed me and you made sure I’d find out.”

“I— It wouldn’t have been right to leave the cuffs at my apartment.” But his voice betrayed him, weak and unsure.

“You wanted to know what I’d do about it.”

He did. And he wanted to know now. The want twisted around him, twisted him until he wasn’t himself. “Yes.” The confession was a grunt from his throat.

“And now you know. I will punish you if you lie to me. If you disobey me. If you make a bad choice.”

Beach nodded, swallowing back the instinctive
no
.

“If it’s something you really don’t want, you can always use your safe word. Or we can talk about it.”

Tai’s matter-of-fact tone, the very rationality of those words, made the want turn to an ache. No. No choices. Beach would always pick wrong. He couldn’t meet Tai’s eyes anymore.

“Are you afraid of me?” Tai’s voice had softened to the tone he used to reassure Jez. Still deep, resonant, a sound Beach could almost touch and wrap himself in.

He let out a shaky breath.

“David? I need you to tell me the truth.”

Beach glanced up. A hint of hesitation flickered in Tai’s eyes.

“The truth?” Beach echoed and inhaled deeply. “No. Not at all. I only need to look at Jez to know you wouldn’t…” the breath deserted him, “…hurt me. It’s me I’m afraid of. I want things—need things that— I don’t understand how I could want this.”

“Because you’re a submissive.”

The answer settled over Beach solid as a stone, the safe drop of an anchor, ripples spreading the knowledge through him. But how could that be when his wants had always come first? When he hated to trade the wind in his face for a harbor?

Beach bent forward, bracing the weight of his head on elbows dug into thighs.

“If you’re not ready to deal with that, it’s okay,” Tai said in the same soft tone.

Pain shot down Beach’s shin from the pressure of his elbow, and he jerked back up. “So what? That’s it?” His pulse skipped and then pounded. He couldn’t taste this, start to understand and feel how deep it ran in him only to have it disappear. “Because I don’t know how to do it?”

“No. I didn’t say that. I don’t mind that you’re new to it.”

“I’ve delivered plenty of it-was-wonderful-but-no-thanks speeches in my life. I can hear one coming from miles away. But I’d appreciate it if you give me an honest answer why.”

Tai reached across the space between them on the couch, but his fingers only grazed the tips of Beach’s hair. The brief contact made blood flush and burn under his skin until it felt too tight, throbbing in his fingers, his sore shin, squeezing at the stretch across his ribs, his back.

He tried to roll his ankles, but the pop wouldn’t come. All he had was a stupid, cursed, impossible need, wanting another man to control him. And the truth was Beach didn’t have what it took to please him, and he’d never have that feeling again, the incredible high from nothing more than Tai murmuring
Good boy
as he cupped Beach’s chin.

“It’s not a brush-off, Da—Beach. But you have to understand this is who I am. It’s not only how I fuck. And I can’t accept a game where you pretend I’m making you do things you don’t want.”

A light. A tiny crack. Beach could fit through that. It was what he was good at. “I don’t want to pretend that.” He meant it. In those moments, when Tai was in control, he wanted everything Tai gave him. The problems happened when Beach had too much time to think.

“Okay. We can give it a try. You understand I expect you to obey me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

In any other situation, that would have come out of Beach’s mouth with either sarcasm or flirtation, a wink and a salute. But there was nothing to ridicule in the way it felt to offer the respect Tai commanded.

“Will you…punish me now?” Beach still stumbled over that word. It launched a war between hunger and revulsion, fear and need inside, deep in the pit of his stomach.

Tai cupped Beach’s chin, and the echo of it tingled in his balls. “What did you do to earn it?”

“I freaked out.” Beach could admit it now, see how out of control he’d been.

“You get to freak out. But you need to tell me why, what you’re feeling next time.”

Beach nodded, and Tai tightened his grip.

“Yes, Sir,” Beach said out loud.

“But I did tell you to do something you didn’t do.” Tai released him and stood.

Beach usually had a good reason for not following a rule, so when he broke one, he knew why, but he couldn’t track what Tai was talking about.

Tai lifted the plates and glasses from the coffee table. “I told you to eat and drink.”

Beach eyed the cold eggs on his plate. Now that the sickening drop sensation was gone, he was hungry.

Tai took the plates into the kitchen, leaving Beach to listen to the sounds of scraping and washing and the nasal hum of the microwave. Jez rolled to one side, angling her head to watch, but whatever was in the microwave didn’t appeal to her since her head lolled back.

With the angle of the couch and wall cutting off Beach’s view, he focused on the sounds, the refrigerator door opening, the processor humming in compensation. A knife hitting wood as it sliced through something. He didn’t offer to help, didn’t move, reluctant to do anything in case it was something that would make Tai send him away.

After the microwave dinged, Tai came back in with the plate of newly steaming eggs, plus slices of cheese and orange and a glass of water.

He put them on the coffee table. Beach wanted to show he was following directions now, so he reached for the plate. The side with the eggs burned his fingers, and he jerked them back. Where was the fork?

“No,” Tai said. “Don’t anticipate.” He picked up Beach’s hand and brushed a kiss across the fingertips. “Just be here.”

The contact made it easier, but Beach’s mind was still chasing after questions, possibilities. When it was sex, there was a direction in mind, however they got there. But with their clothes on, Beach was lost.

Tai kissed Beach’s fingers again and released his hand. “Now. When we’re together, there are consequences for your behavior. Not for your feelings. There are good consequences and bad consequences.”

“Punishment,” Beach blurted, his eyes shooting a glance at the plate of food.

“And rewards. But you need to understand both come directly from your actions. What are we addressing now?”

“You told me to eat and drink, and I didn’t.”

“You will take better care of your body, David.”

“Yes, Sir.” Beach shifted on the couch. His dick wasn’t ready for another round, but the electricity he had always associated with impending wood was shimmering through him, heating his skin like a quick shot of bourbon.

Tai lifted the plate from the coffee table. “Take off your shirt and sit in front of me.” He tapped the coffee table.

Beach stripped the cool silk and cotton off and folded it over the couch back. He was adventurous in food and sex, but combining the two wasn’t for him. He wasn’t interested in hiding the taste of his lover behind a flavored syrup, and the resulting mess wasn’t worth it.

“Don’t anticipate. Just do what I tell you.” Tai’s voice went deeper, and Beach dropped his ass on the warm spot on the coffee table.

“Put your hands under your thighs.”

Beach tucked his hands away, swallowing back reluctance. He didn’t know what to expect, but this didn’t seem like Tai, humiliating Beach by putting the food he didn’t eat on his body.

Pain stung his ear. He jerked out of his thoughts. Tai had flicked his nail against the cartilage at the top.

“Focus on me. Turn off your head.” Tai picked up a slice of cheese. “Open your mouth.”

“Like the dog?” Beach asked.

“Do you feel like a dog?”

“No.” The cheese had come close enough to smell. Sweet and nutty, like a Gouda. Beach’s mouth watered, and he opened it. God, he was hungry.

Tai arched his brow, the cheese still between his fingers. Waiting.

Beach licked his lips and forced another swallow down his throat. “No, Sir.”

“Good.”

Beach opened his mouth, and Tai put the bite-sized piece on his tongue.

Beach had been to a Dutch dairy farm, and this surpassed the best piece of Gouda he’d ever had. He chewed, taste and texture incredibly strong.

After Beach swallowed, Tai said, “Open.”

Beach didn’t feel at all like a dog, or a child. His senses were alive, sharp. He could see tiny variations of the dark brown of Tai’s irises, the hair-thin lines at the corners of his eyes as he leaned in. A sigh from the sleeping dog filled Beach’s ears before fading to let in the sounds from the street under the window. Every bite of cheese exploded with rich flavor on his tongue.

Beach loved parties. There was always that one perfect moment, the right mix of people who had come and gone, the right level of alcohol, the right song, one moment of absolute perfection. Beach always knew when it hit, knew nothing would match it and it was time to go.