Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (7 page)

There was a rise in noise from the picnic table, and Gina slipped away. Tai knocked back some beer in the long silence. He and Josh had been friends once. Teammates. UMD Terps. And Tai didn’t hate Josh so much for coming back. He hated him for leaving in the first place. Leaving Gina so broken and miserable that something that had seemed like a good idea after too much rum at a party had led them here.

“You don’t have to keep sending checks, man.” Josh started the same conversation they’d been having for the past two years.

Tai might not be obligated for child support, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want Sammie to have the best. “Save it for college then.”

“Or her wedding.”

Their simultaneous shudders of horror provoked an actual nod of understanding.

“Tai, I’m taking care of them,” Josh said in exactly the tone of voice guaranteed to make Tai want to prove he still had enough defensive tackle in him to drop Josh straight to hell before he could take another step back to his precious grill.

Where the fuck was he when Gina had morning sickness—all day—for two months, when she needed someone to hold on to while her body pushed out the baby, when Sammie cried with colic and teething? Tai had pointed that all out to Gina when Josh came back, in the only screaming fight they’d ever had.
I know all that. But he’s here now. It’s my life, Tai. My decision.

And the worst of it was, Josh
was
taking care of them. Tai couldn’t argue with a solid brick detached three-bedroom in the suburbs and a yard big enough for a swing set and cousins to chase around, and grandparents and aunts and uncles at the picnic table.

“Hey.”

Tai blinked and Gina was there, planted in front of him as if she knew how slippery his grip on his temper was.

“Hey.” He shifted his beer to his other hand but didn’t drink any.

“Want me to introduce you around?”

Tai was sure the whole fucked-up story had already made the rounds of Josh’s family. “I’m good.”

“Uh-huh.” Gina nodded. “Anything new in your life?”

Any
one
she meant. Gina knew, of course. Knew before the party of rum and bad decisions, knew before Tai had worked up enough nerve to confess it. But back then he’d had his head, heart and soul set on an NFL career, and gay guys didn’t get drafted, didn’t get signed. Maybe a kicker someday, but not a defensive end. Two-time All-American or not.

With that question hanging between them, his phone took on a little extra weight, as if from the voicemail he hadn’t listened to but hadn’t deleted either. “Same old, same old.”

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s good.” Tai grabbed the escape handed to him and ran with it. “She and Phillip are doing the barbecue thing in Woodlawn. I think I’ll stop up there and say hi.”

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Sammie.”

Tai never made it out to Woodlawn to see Mom and Phillip the Pharmacist. A trip to Harris Teeter outfitted him with ribs and beer. The ribs weren’t half as good as the smell from Josh’s grill, but the Flying Dog Pale Ale—and the lack of certain company—made up for it. He spent the evening mindlessly clicking through the nothing on cable until a quick triple knock bounced off the apartment door.

Jez raised her head, tipped it for a couple seconds, then stood up with a stretch. That usually meant someone she knew.

Tai patted her head, setting down his beer and discovering with surprise it had four empty companions lined up across the coffee table. He wasn’t lit, he noticed when he stood up, but he was feeling it.

Jez stuck to her training and sat in the living room doorway as Tai went to the door and opened it.

A completely naked David Beauchamp knelt in the hall.

C
hapter Five

Stark fucking naked. In front of Tai’s apartment. Where the nice family in 2B might find him on their way home from the fireworks. Maybe Beauchamp would be better off in the hands of the Office of Mental Health rather than Corrections.

A yank, a drag, a shove and a slam got Beauchamp behind the closed door and inside the apartment.

Tai leaned on the door for an instant, drawing in a deep breath of air-conditioning to cool his head before he turned around.

Beauchamp crouched against the wall near the kitchen door where Tai had flung him, petting Jez’s head as she nuzzled his jaw and neck.

“Jez.” His tone was too sharp, and she shrank into as tiny a space as she could get on the floor, head lowered. Tai took another deep breath. “Good girl.” He patted her head, felt her shaking. “Good girl. Come on. Bed.”

She sprang up to head for her crate. Tai shot a glare at the man in his kitchen doorway. “You. St—” Stay would only confuse Jez more. “Don’t move.”

Jez chomped on a fuzzy chew toy from her basket and carried it with her as she hopped in to curl up on her blanket, staring up at Tai out of watchful eyes that still had too much white in them.

Holding his hand near the door to the crate, he murmured, “I’m sorry, girl. You’re not in trouble.”

She sniffed and offered a quick lick to his wrist.

“Good girl. Bed.” He thought of shutting the crate door, but she’d stay until he called her. He shut his bedroom door though.

Beauchamp was still in the space next to the kitchen, but he’d shifted back to that kneeling pose, probably copied from something he’d seen online. It wasn’t bad form, if you were grading that sort of thing. Knees apart, ass down onto his heels, palms up and open on his thighs, head down.

The only thing wrong with it was who. And where. And how fucking much Tai wanted to step forward, put a hand on Beauchamp’s neck and drag his face to meet Tai’s crotch. Grind it there until he felt the hesitation, the resistance and then the hot flood of satisfaction when David yielded, let Tai control when he got to move, got to breathe.

Instead he folded his arms across his chest and took another deep breath before he spoke. “Look at me.”

David raised his head until he was staring up out of those pretty blue eyes. No wonder he’d been able to get away with so much all his life. He had a face like a model, features symmetrical and smooth, except for the bump of a healed break in the middle of his nose and a smattering of freckles under his eyes. The blink and half smile probably worked on almost everyone—and his millions in the bank certainly wouldn’t hurt his chances. He looked bigger out of his clothes, maybe a little soft at the waist, but a defined chest tapered to narrow hips, and his back was sculpted beauty.

Tai froze, realizing he’d started walking around the kneeling man as if this really was a scene and he really was a sub presenting himself. But he wasn’t. He was a probie. Someone else’s yes, but still in the system and as off-limits as it got.

Tai pressed his back against the door behind David. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

A thread of nervous laughter wound through David’s answer. “I was rather hoping it was self-explanatory.”

“It isn’t. Explain.” Tai stepped in front of him, determined to make this as difficult as possible.

“I—I wanted to—what you said in the car.” David licked his lips. His voice was shaking. Not shame, nerves. Tai had to hand it to the guy, the bright blue gaze never wavered from Tai’s face. “Have you tell me what to do.”

The hitch in his breath. Oh fuck.

“Sir,” David finished.

“And that means you show up here and pull this shit?”

“I’m open to suggestion, Sir.” That came a little more easily to him.

Tai stepped around him, opened the apartment door and found a neatly folded stack of clothes. He grabbed the pile and the cane, shut the door with enough force to make David jump, then threw the clothes down next to him. Standing in front of David, Tai said, “Did it ever occur to you that you’ve built something out of nothing in your head? That I don’t want you?”

“No.”

Tai raised his brows.

David nodded. “You’re hard.”

Tai snorted. “You’re naked. And not exactly hideous to look at.”

“Thank you.” This time the pause was a tease. “Sir.”

“Face down.” It snapped out of him. Tai put both hands behind his head as if that would help him regain his control. If David was his, even for a quick scene, Tai would have made him damned sorry for that kind of brattiness.

David had complied. His forehead rested on the industrial carpet, ass tipped up in the air.

Tai sucked in a breath through his teeth. Damn that looked pretty. “Put your hands underneath, reach through, between your legs and grab your ankles. Don’t even think about touching anything else.”

He strode into his room and gripped the top of the dresser. He couldn’t do this. Except he already had. As soon as he’d failed to hand Beauchamp his clothes and tell him to get the fuck out, Tai had known he was totally screwed. Didn’t mean it wasn’t wrong. Morally, professionally, insanely wrong. Wrong in every way but the one that pounded with his pulse, the one that urged him to see if Beauchamp really wanted this or if it was some freaky head game.

It wasn’t only alcohol clouding Tai’s judgment. Being with David, hell,
fighting
with David made Tai feel more alive, more energized than he had in a year.

David wasn’t a patient guy. He’d probably give up after a few minutes. Tai would go out there and catch David sitting up or jacking himself, or find him and his clothes gone. Then Tai would know.

He’d been gone forever. Beach’s forehead was itching and sweating from being pushed into the carpet, which smelled like chemicals and cleaner and dog, the dog being the only part of it not making him want to sneeze. His knees and forehead were so dug into the carpet that he’d be wearing the mark of them for days.
Look what curiosity got you into this time, Beach.

It would have been easy to dismiss like that. Claim it was nothing more than his try-anything-once sense of joie de vivre, but he knew it was more. Because otherwise, Beach would have been dressed and out the door. This wasn’t simple curiosity. It was craving.

When he’d first been ordered into this position, after an initial shock at how immediately he’d complied, he’d been all too conscious of his butt stuck way up in the air, balls dangling, vulnerable. He’d been certain he was about to find out if getting his ass beat at thirty-four was as bad as it had been at thirteen. Except nothing touched him but the cool air. And even air felt like something ordered to torment him, to remind him of how naked and alone he was.

Would the man ever come back?

When the steps vibrated across the floor, Beach’s muscles tensed. The feet moved past him, around him. It was all Beach could do to not cover the jewels. His grip on his ankles tightened, careful to avoid touching the monitor. He could take it. Show he was serious about something—for once in his life. His ears strained, everything in him more alive than he could have imagined a moment ago. He pressed his forehead more firmly down. His skin was aware of every shift in air currents, and the hunger for a touch set up a throbbing ache in his balls.

“First of all, David, you will be completely honest with me. Do you understand?”

Beach licked his lips. “Yes.” Then he remembered. “Sir.”

“Good.”

The single word of praise washed through him like a shot of bourbon and made him all the more determined to earn another.

“Does anything hurt?” The question came from behind him, but that smoky voice seemed to wrap around him like a grip.

Beach considered. His neck and shoulders were uncomfortable, his knees protesting a little. The only thing that hurt was his shin, and that was constant anyway.

“No, Sir.”

The hand in his hair might have hurt as his head was yanked up if Fonoti hadn’t cupped Beach’s chin to take the weight. “What did you just promise me?”

Beach stared into dark eyes that might as well have looked straight through to the back of his skull. “Not to lie. But only my leg hurts, and that always hurts.”

A thumb moved across Beach’s lips. “No. You promised to be completely honest. That’s not the same as not lying.” The thumb slipped between Beach’s lips, and he licked, sucked, hungry for the salty taste of the skin and to prove he could do more given the opportunity.

Fonoti released Beach’s head. “Put your hands on the floor to brace yourself and sit up, slowly.”

He thought he was moving slowly, but still the rush of blood from his head left him dizzy. A hard grip on his shoulders kept him steady.

“Sit comfortably.”

When Beach had shifted to one hip and stretched his bad leg out in front of him, the other man said, “Tell me about your leg.”

“I smashed it pretty good. Fell down onto some old brick stairs. In the surgery to repair it, I got a bone infection, then had to get a plate put in. Pretty nasty stuff. Cast just came off on Monday.”
Sir
was one thing when he was facedown staring at the carpet, but in casual conversation it stuck in his mouth. “Um. I’m rather embarrassed to say I don’t know your name. Your, uh, Christian name.”

The brow arch was a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Toluaotai. But most people stick to Tai.”

“And most people call me Beach.”

Tai stared at the knotty and thick scar on Beach’s shin.

“I assure you, I’ve had worse.” Beach rubbed at the thinner, raised line on his scalp, under the too-short hair. At least he didn’t remember much about that. Comas were good for something. “The time I took a jump without my mount stands out. Lucky for me it was only my collarbone and not my neck.”

Tai shook his head as if disgusted. “You need a keeper more than a Dom.”

“I have one.” Beach smiled and pointed to the ankle bracelet. “And apparently, yet another new probation officer. Which leaves the other position…available.”

With something that might have been a laugh, Tai slid down the wall to sit next to Beach. “What do you expect from this?”

Beach turned on all the self-deprecating charm at his disposal, which he had to confess was substantial. It hadn’t let him down so far in life. “I’m afraid that’s where my bravado ends. I throw myself on the mercy of your greater experience.”

“Well, being a Dom doesn’t give me mind-reading skills. Only knowledge of what I like.”

“That’s what I want.” Beach pounced on that. It was the whole point, right? “I want to do what you like. It— I didn’t expect to feel like this. In fact, it was one hell of a surprise. But I want to do that—give you what you like.”

“You don’t know what that is. You— Damn it, David, you can’t just go offering yourself to random guys. You need to make sure it’s going to be safe.”

“I trust you.”

“And you’re right back to lying.”

“No.” So sometimes Beach was good at bending the truth into the shape that suited the occasion, but this wasn’t a lie. He was sure of that.

“Get dressed. And get out.”

“Please.” Like many of Beach’s reactions around this man, his cry surprised him. So did the raw feeling in it. Not like his usual voice at all. “Please don’t cut me off from this.” He stared down at his carpet-reddened knees. “I— Nothing has ever felt so…real before, so much a part of me brought to life. It scares me how much I find myself— I don’t know that I could trust someone else with it.”

Eli had told Beach to be direct about what he wanted. But Eli hadn’t mentioned how horrible it could feel to have your soul exposed like that. Far more naked than skin, everything Beach kept hidden about himself lay wailing and exposed like an abandoned infant. At any moment, Tai would shovel the quivering mess right out the door.

Instead Tai put both hands behind his neck and laced his fingers, letting out an explosive breath. “Put your pants on and come sit on the couch. We need to talk.”

Since Beach hoped he wouldn’t be back in his trousers for long, he skipped the briefs. The television was muted, some explosion-heavy action movie making flashes across Tai’s face and bare arms. In contrast with the lighted hall, this part of the apartment was gloomy. Twilight couldn’t compete with the tilted blinds.

After Beach sank into the opposite corner of the sofa, Tai started. From the ominous
need to talk
pronouncement, Beach was expecting a struggle, but he didn’t know it would take the wind out of him so much when Tai started with, “This, us, this can’t happen.”

Slapping on a smile to cover the hollowness, Beach countered, “But you aren’t my probation officer anymore.”

“No, but you’re still in county court custody, and I’m an officer of the court. Just you being here like this, now, I could lose my job. Hell, I’d fire me if I knew.”

Beach looked down at his knees, picking at the still-sharp crease in his khakis. They really did deliver on their stain-wrinkle-resistant promise. He glanced up to deliver his apology. “I am truly ashamed of my earlier audacity. I’m afraid I’ve been known to react rather badly to limits.”

In the light of a fresh explosion, Tai’s eyebrows came to a peak on his forehead. “And yet?”

“Imagine my surprise,” Beach agreed dryly.

“Why me?”

The orange flashes from the television made Tai appear firelit. Black hair, black eyes, unyielding jaw, broad nose and cheeks. His lips were full, but right now they held a tight line. Not the classically handsome prep-school type, but dead sexy. Beach hadn’t known he wanted a man who looked like he could snap him in two until he met Tai.

“Why not?” Beach knew exactly how to inject a purr of appreciation in his voice.

“I’m not fishing for compliments. I want to know.”

“Toluaotai.” Beach was a pretty good mimic. He bet he had the inflection right. Glottal stops and all.

“Close enough,” Tai agreed.

“What does it mean? I mean, David is beloved, if you can believe that. Aiken was my grandmother’s maiden name, we’re from Aiken too. And Beauchamp is French for—”

Tai’s hand landed on Beach’s knee and squeezed. “David, focus. And answer my question.”