Bad Things (13 page)

Xavier fed Brian a subtle smirk, just enough to make him salivate, and let the faintest hint of a growl into his voice. “Great.”

Xavier stuffed his phone into his pocket. He was almost never caught off-guard like that, but even a troll like Brian can be stealthy with a hundred decibels of music flooding the club. Maybe the din made the customers feel safe, confessing their dark fantasies, watching them appear on the skin of the women sprawled on their tables.

“
It’s funny.” Brian’s grin turned smug. He looked like a fat house cat that had just caught a moth—clumsy and delighted with his prowess. “You’re the last person I would have thought Carson would hit up for a place to stay.”

“
Yeah? Why’s that?”

“
I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think the two of you had much in common.” The guy was full-on gloating, dick probably at half-mast.

“
You’d be surprised.” Watching the thrill churn in Brian’s pale green eyes, Xavier let himself grin, knowing Brian would think he was secretly bragging about a conquest.

Good. Let Brian believe they’d planted the perfect spy. Their pretty, supposedly straight bartender who Brian probably figured was so cowed by money that he was willing to do almost anything to fulfill the mission they’d sent him on, but who Xavier now figured was either teetering on the edge of bi-curiosity, or full-on, in-the-closet gay. Either way, irresistible bait for an alpha queer like Xavier. Let them think he was so caught up in flipping their errand boy ass-up that the possibility of an ulterior motive would never cross his cock-addled mind.

When he got home, Xavier refilled the plastic bottle with filtered water, and headed downstairs. Of course Carson had heard him on the stairs. He was sitting there, knees raised and turned slightly inward, modestly trying to hide his cock. Xavier set the empty pee bottle and the full water bottle on the floor, within reach, and released one wrist from the post.

“
I want to be a good host, so you’ll be as comfortable as possible while you’re here for the next few days. But we need to talk about the house rules.”

Xavier gave Carson a grin. This part was always delicious, though usually he savored it with a much more willing opponent.

“I’m going to ask things of you. And you’re not always going to want to do them.” He chuckled. “Well, in your case, I guess the truth is, you’re desperately going to want to not do them. But you should know before we start that I’ll never ask anything from you, unless I have a much less bearable alternative in mind. Meaning, you should always do what I ask, the first time I ask. Because I promise you, if I do the alternative, you’ll be really sorry.”

Pobrecito
. Tears already welling up.

“
Are you thirsty?”

Carson looked at the bottle of water, and nodded.

“You may remove your gag. But no speaking, or I won’t be so nice again anytime soon.”

Xavier watched Carson fumble around the gag with his one free hand until he got it loose and pulled the ball from between his teeth. He worked his jaw open and closed and from side to side for a moment, then took the bottle when Xavier handed it to him. He emptied the whole bottle in one go, and as soon as he was done he put his hand over his genitals.

Pleasant warmth spread through Xavier’s chest at that sight, because it was going to be so much fun, making him move that hand.

“
I’ll let you leave the gag out. But only until you speak. Understood?”

Carson opened his mouth, then closed it, and nodded.

“Good. And take your hand off your cock, unless you want me to cuff that arm again.”

Carson’s jaw contracted against an impulse to protest. To try to shame, to beg. But instead he moved his hand. Just enough, resting it on his thigh, just an inch clear of his dick, lying soft and oblivious in the crease between his thighs.

Conditioning. A patient negotiation of the twisted path between fear and obedience. And Carson had already confessed, inadvertently and so sweetly, exactly where the surest path to his vulnerability lay.

“
Now, knees up and open. Spread for me.”

It was a limp kind of shock spreading over his face, because knowing this was coming had been curtained off by a need to believe it couldn’t happen. Carson didn’t move.

“Yeah, I know. You have to test it. Even though you’re sitting there, handcuffed to the post and helpless as fuck, you need me to show you that you want to obey me.”

Xavier bent down, grabbed Carson by the ankles, lifting and forcing his feet wide apart, then stepped forward with his right foot, planting his heel just in front of Carson’s bare ass and resting the sole of his boot on his balls. Suddenly white as death, Carson grasped at Xavier’s ankle, but was helpless to push or pull his foot away.

“Don’t look like that. Like you’re about to be castrated or something. I’m not going to crush them, for fuck’s sake. But I might give them a little tap, just enough to double you over. Maybe enough to make you puke. Should I do that? Just so we don’t have to have this conversation a second time?”

A fragile plea. “No.”

Xavier laughed. “Did you just speak?”

Carson opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Was that an apology?”

He nodded.

“Are you feeling more cooperative now?”

Another fervent nod.

Xavier took his boot off Carson’s balls, let go of his ankles, and stepped back.

“
Then let’s try this again. Knees up and open. Spread for me.”

Face flushed, eyes red and welling up, terror going supernova at the center of his big blues, he did it. Just the act, that obedience, that little movement, and heat radiated from Xavier’s balls, down the length of his cock, out through his core, into his limbs. Up his throat, warming his face. Sudden urge to pounce, to devour, like a lion driven to the kill by the scent of prey. Carson’s pretty cock so soft, so tender and vulnerable, draped over those robust balls, neatly groomed but not stripped bare.

Aware of Carson watching him, Xavier let his lips part for a panting breath of arousal. “Every time I walk into this room, I want you to display yourself like that. Show me that your pretty pink cock, your balls, your asshole belong to me.
You
want to do that. Do you know why?”

Xavier watched a thick, blank doubt haze the flare of fear in Carson’s eyes before he finally shook his head.

“You want to do that, Carson, because I’m not like your friend in the gray suit in that video. Unlike him, I take very good care of things that belong to me.”

A shudder rippled across Carson’s shoulders.

“Now, since you spoke out of turn, put the gag back in.”

A cloud of protest darkened Carson’s eyes, but one look at Xavier staring at him, and he did it. While Carson was fumbling with the clasp, Xavier circled around to the shelf behind him, and extracted two items from the chest. Coming back, he knelt between Carson’s legs, and he set down a bottle of lube and a mid-sized ass toy on the floor. Seeing them, Carson looked at Xavier, lips tightening around the gag, chin scrunching because he was struggling hard not to start crying.
Dios mio
, he was a sight, mouth stretched open around the gag, eyes full of tears.

“
Now you and I are going to play a game.”

He repositioned the lube so it was just within Carson’s reach, if he leaned as far as the restraint tethering him to the post would let him. Then Xavier put the ass toy just next to it.

“At the signal, you try to grab the lube before I grab this,” Xavier said, tapping his finger on the floor next to the ass toy. “If you win, you get to jerk off for me. If you lose, I’m going to work your ass with that toy for a little while. And I may or may not touch your cock while I do it.”

Breathing hard, shaking, Carson straightened and eyed the two items nervously, like he was priming his body for the competition, but he didn’t look very hopeful.

“Don’t lose the game before we even play, Carson. I’m not a cheater. I’ll even let you give the signal. Which is as good as a head start, right? Can you snap your fingers even though your hand is restrained? Give it a try.”

Carson snapped his fingers.

“Good. So that’s the signal, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

Fuck, his dick was hard. Not Carson’s, though. Sitting there, sweating and trembling nervously, staring at Xavier, either trying to gauge his best moment to try for the lube, or wondering something else, something more encompassing, Carson snapped and lunged and grabbed the lube at least a full second, maybe two before Xavier grasped the silicone toy. Of course, Xavier hadn’t tried very hard.

“Well done! Now, hand me the bottle,” Xavier said, reaching for the lube with one hand, still holding the ass toy in the other.

Carson looked like Xavier had just confirmed his most awful fear, and now he was going to get reamed by the toy in Xavier’s hand. But he did as he was told.
The perversity of these little exercises in trust-building didn’t make them any less potent.

“
I’ll help you, since it’s awkward with one arm out of commission. Put out your hand.”

When Carson reached forward, Xavier squeezed a generous dollop of lube into his palm. Then he took some, too, and lubed up the ass toy.

“I won’t do anything with this, unless you bore me. So let’s see some enthusiasm.”

Carson sat there, his hand suspended mid-air, palm cradling that glob of glistening lube, his eyes fixed on Xavier as if by looking at him he could will him to stop everything. To undo the lock on the restraint tethering him to the support beam, give him back his clothes, and let him go.

“Ugh. Already getting bored.” Xavier reached forward with the silicone phallus.

Carson wrapped his hand around his limp dick and started tugging at it, coating it in a thick, gleaming layer of lube.

“Gently, now,” Xavier coached in a low, patient voice. “Touch yourself the way you’d touch a new lover for the first time.”

Carson went still. Confusion. Frustration. But then his eyes fixed on the phallus in Xavier’s hand, and he started again. His hand was shaking, which just made what Carson was doing even nastier. Made the blood in Xavier’s balls thrum in a more demanding pulse. Trembling fingers encircling and caressing.

“That’s better. But look at me,” Xavier said softly. “Seduce me.”

Carson’s face went red. But he raised his head and met Xavier’s eyes.

“Good. But don’t stop touching your cock. There you go. See? You’re already getting hard for me.”

An even deeper blush. Wide, deer-in-headlight gaze. Xavier careened, high and dizzy on his humiliation. How it was making Carson hard. Making him pant.

“You’re so beautiful, Carson. You must hear that all the time. Touch your chest for me.” Who the hell was he channeling? That sure as fuck wasn’t the way he talked to his lovers.

Poor baby. Was he going to cry? His mortified expression was such an interesting contrast to his cock, perfectly turgid, twitching and bobbing now that Carson had let it out of his grip. Carson put his hand over his pec and moved his hand around.

“Come on, Carson. Don’t just go through the motions like you’re in a bad porno. I want to watch you pleasure yourself. Do what feels good. Touch your nipples. Do you like them touched gently? Or twisted until it hurts? Show me.”

Xavier watched Carson’s fingertips circle over his aureole, rub the protruding nub, watched his hand slide across his chest to tease his other nipple. Arrhythmic breath halting, then racing, then catching again.

“So gentle? Really? Just for fun, give it a good pinch. Nice and hard.”

He made him go on like that, pinching, tugging, twisting his nipples until they were inflamed and mottled from the abuse, but obscenely stiff and swollen.

“See there. You’ve been neglecting your cock all this time, and look at it. Hard as can be. Even weeping with need. Go ahead. Touch it. Stroke it. Make yourself come for me.”

This time when Carson touched, Xavier could see he was really feeling it, not just going through the motions like a robot he’d programmed. When Xavier reminded him, Carson obediently held his gaze. And deep down in that inky blue, a startled, fraught pleasure rose up through his fear.

Already Carson was panting, his balls raised and firm, thighs trembling. The way he was keeping his legs spread, as ordered, was torturing Xavier with the relentless awareness of his hole.

Fuck, he wanted to fuck. To rut. To end his monstrous need. To pump that hole full of come. Instead, he forced himself to feed on the agonizing pleasure of the need itself. The twisted delight of denial.

Soon. Carson was almost there, cock so fucking ruddy and engorged it looked ready to burst.

“
You’re going to come soon.”

Fuck. Yes. The way his embarrassment fueled the arousal burning up his body.

“Don’t get my floor dirty.”

Another taunting flare in Carson’s eyes at the image Xavier had planted in his head. Soon. Fuck. Yes. There.

Strands of white arcing through the air and splatting against Carson’s chest on their descent, his belly quivering with the strain of need and release, seizing in orgasmic convulsions. Ropes of come dropping down onto the hand slowly rubbing the base of his dick, coaxing out a few more dribbling blobs, because even now that he’d done his duty, followed orders, Carson couldn’t resist milking the last few spasms of his climax.