Tag Team (20 page)

“So what kind of veggies should we get for supper?” Rig asked with a smirk and held up a large cucumber. “How about this?” he asked with a wink.

“Oh. My. God. Would you give me that,” Mason squeaked, his eyes scanning the area wildly as he snatched the vegetable from Rig and set it down.

“You don’t like cucumbers?” Rig asked innocently.

Rig burst out laughing at the shocked look on Mason’s face and the way his cheeks, all the way up to his ears, turned bright red. “I’m going to go sit in the car,” Mason muttered, a ripe string of curses pouring from him as he stomped away.

“Way to go, Mr. Insensitive,” Bobby chastised. “Didn’t you learn anything from Max about Mason’s social phobia? It means he doesn’t do well in public.”

Guilt caused Rig’s gut to flop. “Shit! I just wanted to make him laugh.”

Rig raced to grab Mason’s arm, stopping him before he could make it too far away. “No more veggie porn.” Mason looked back at Rig, arched one brow, his look dubious, but he didn’t try to pull away. “C’mon. I promise to behave,” Rig added sincerely.

Mason scanned the area again. Satisfied there was no one around, he sighed and stabbed a finger in Rig’s chest. “Everyone knows bananas are way better,” he deadpanned and then held up one and ran his fist down it as if he were jerking it off.

Rig sat there mouth agape until Bobby came up and used a tip of one finger to push Rig’s chin upward. “You so fucking deserved that one.” He then put his arm around Mason’s shoulder and steered him down the aisle. “You are my hero,” he chuckled, then made an exaggerated kissing sound as he pressed his lips to Mason’s cheek.

Mason looked back over his shoulder and winked at Rig, who was still standing there dumbfounded, but he shrugged it off quickly and followed them. He was so going to spank that sassy ass. Both of them.

They made it through the canned good, baking supplies, and meat department without any problems. The laughter that had started out the shopping venture seemed to set the tone. Only once did Rig notice that Mason was a little nervous, when a man and woman pushing an empty cart headed toward them, their voices loud as they argued over what to have for dinner. Mason had pushed close to Rig and joined their pinkies, looking to Rig for comfort. The simple act made Rig’s chest swell with pride, knowing that Mason was drawn to him when he was nervous or scared. The emotions Mason brought out in him were intense, possessive, and powerful. His overwhelming need to protect Mason left him a little shaky. He’d never felt anything so powerful.

Rig tried to remember if he’d felt this way about Stephen. Surely he must have; his boy had been everything to him. Yet, Stephen hadn’t ever been as fragile as Mason, and if he had felt this way, the memory of it had faded with time. The feelings that Mason brought out in him felt like the anticipation of a first kiss. He was all fluttery, nervous, elated, and pretty damn sure he hadn’t felt feelings like this since he was a kid. Mason made him feel young and alive.

“Dammit! I forgot to grab sugar,” Bobby grumbled.

“I’ll go grab it,” Mason offered. He took Rig’s hand lacing their fingers. “C’mon, Rig, you can help me carry it.”

Rig shot a questioning look at Bobby, who just smiled and gave a curt nod. Rig shrugged and allowed Mason to pull him along. Again he felt ridiculously giddy by such a simple gesture. Neither of them said a word as they walked through the store, Rig following along like a happy little puppy, eager to go wherever he was led. Mason’s hand was warm against his the entire time. Rig was still wearing a big goofy grin by the time they caught up with Bobby in the health-and-beauty aisle. He dropped the bag of sugar into the cart. Rig just smirked at the questioning look Bobby gave him as he also added the chocolate syrup and can of whipped cream Mason insisted they needed.

Bobby snatched a can of shaving cream from the shelf, stared at it a second before dropping it in the cart. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, addressing Mason. “Do you have a toiletries fetish?”

Mason’s expression was one of confusion. “Huh?”

“Your hall closet,” Bobby clarified as he picked up a bottle of body wash and wrinkled his nose. Bobby set it back on the shelf and wiped his hand on his shorts before grabbing another one and adding it to the cart as well. “It’s more impressive than the shelves here.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Mason said with a shrug. “I order whatever I can from an online store. The rest I usually have delivered.”

He’d been wondering the same thing when he’d seen the well-stocked shelves in Mason’s hall closet. “You never come here?” Rig asked.

“Not if I can help it. Charles usually did all the shopping,” he added, looking away but not before Rig got a glimpse of pain in Mason’s eyes. Rig’s chest tightened.

Mason stood shifting from foot to foot as he waited for Bobby to pick out whatever else he needed. Rig was not paying attention, his focus on Mason. The hand in his tightened, and he looked over to see an elderly gentleman approach. Once again, Mason moved closer to Rig and averted his gaze. Rig had been reading a lot on social anxiety disorders. Max had been a wealth of information, but until their little excursion into town, he hadn’t seen it firsthand. It was painful to watch.

He no longer had any desire to go to the flea market. If it was this difficult for Mason to be around just a couple of strangers, there would be no way he’d be able to handle a large crowd. And no way would Rig be able to handle witnessing Mason struggle. He was still pissed off that Gregory and Charles hadn’t gotten Mason the help he needed to deal with his phobia, but he understood a little better now. Rig’s first instinct was to rush Mason home and protect him from any distress.

“Okay, Bobby, grab what you need and let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“What about the flea market?” Bobby asked as he dropped a pack of razors in with the shaving cream.

“Not feeling it today.” He released Mason’s hand and wrapped an arm around Mason’s waist, keeping him close as he ushered them toward the front of the store to the checkout counter. “I’m suddenly in the mood for a burger on the grill, a cold beer, and a board game.”

The relieved smile on Mason’s face when he looked at Rig was enough to wipe away any doubts that he’d do anything to protect him and with it the anger he held against Gregory and Charles. Right or wrong, he understood why. The thought frightened the fuck out of Rig.

B
OBBY
sat in the backseat staring at the back of Rig’s head as they made their way to Mason’s little bungalow. Who the hell was the man sitting in front of him, and what had he done with the Rig Bobby had known nearly half his life? It wasn’t like Rig to be so…. Hell, he didn’t even know which word to use to describe him. What made them such a great team was the way they complemented each other. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle but were as different as night and day. Bobby had always been more of the nurturing type, the one who cooked, fussed over dusty baseboards, and the one to tend to a red ass or put salve on a flogged back. Rig was, for the most part, much less fussy. His clothes rarely made it into the hamper, and he didn’t care about dust bunnies or dishes left in the sink. After a scene he’d lay holding their boy, humming and murmuring soothing words, trusting that Bobby would check and care for any wounds.

What Rig lacked in Molly Maid and Florence Nightingale skills, he made up for in keeping their home in good repair, doing all the yard work, maintaining their cars. Their kinks were similar, but Rig was by far the more authoritative and strict of the two. Rig was the stereotypical alpha male. To see him coddling Mason, holding his hand or wrapping him in his arms when the smaller man would show any signs of unease… it was a rare occurrence when Rig would show his gentler side, but Mason seemed to bring it out easily and often in Rig. And if Bobby were being completely honest with himself, he liked it. A lot.

Rig pulled up next to Mason’s Envoy and cut the engine. Bobby briefly wondered what Mason was going to do with it. The vehicle had belonged to Mason’s Dom. Mason knew how to drive but wasn’t a big fan of it, claimed he’d much rather be chauffeured around. Bobby had teased him of being a pampered princess, and Mason had smiled sweetly, not even trying to deny it. There were a lot of things he still didn’t know about Mason, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. After discovering what Charles’s family had done about the funeral, Bobby couldn’t help but worry about the other issues. Did Mason have legal rights to the home he lived in, the vehicles? Had his Doms secured his future since Mason obviously couldn’t work outside the home?

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as the worry filled him. He and Rig would need to return to New York soon, but he just couldn’t leave unless he knew Mason would be okay, but again wasn’t sure how or if he should ask.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. You want to snap out of it and help with the groceries?” Rig asked, opening Bobby’s door and giving him a curious look.

Bobby jerked out of his uneasy musing and gave himself a little internal shake. He’d have to talk to Rig about it, maybe even ask Max what he should do.
Or you could just ask the man himself
. Bobby sighed and pushed open his door further and stepped out. “Nope. I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you Mr. I-Love-This-Steam-Bath-Heat.” He waved a hand, dismissing Rig’s narrow-eyed gaze and headed into the house.

An hour later—with full bellies, Rig having grilled some mean-ass burgers they’d all gorged themselves on—they gathered around the small kitchen table as Mason set up the board game.

“I fucking hate Monopoly,” Rig grunted, his voice low.

“You hate it because you always lose,” Bobby reminded him.

“We can play something else,” Mason offered. “I don’t have any other board games, but I think I have some cards somewhere.”

“Monopoly is fine,” Bobby assured him and snatched up the car before Rig could grab it. His quick reflexes won him an evil glare from his partner. “Besides,” he continued, grinning at Rig, “We promised we’d play if you went to town, so Mr. Grumpy is just going to have to suck it up.”

“I’ll give you something to suck up,” Rig grunted and grudgingly took the little dog and set it on the start square.

Mason covered his mouth with the back of his hand, hiding his smile, but he couldn’t hide it from his eyes. Bobby’s gut did a backflip seeing the gleam. He wasn’t a big fan of the game either, but it was a small price to pay to keep that glint in Mason’s eye and the happiness radiating from him.

Mason finished handing out all the money, taking on the job as banker when both Bobby and Rig refused the offer. He set the horse and rider on the board and grabbed the dice. “Okay. How about we make this game a little more interesting?” Mason asked with a smirk.

“You
cannot
make this game interesting,” Rig grumbled.

Mason handed the dice to Rig. “Want to bet?”

It was Bobby’s turn to try and hold back his laughter, but he was about as successful as Mason had been; the kick delivered to Bobby’s shin was proof of his failure. “What?” he asked innocently and scooted his chair a little closer to Mason’s and out of kicking range.

“Each time you land on someone’s property, you owe them the money as well as an article of clothing.”

The look on Rig’s face was priceless, and for the second time that day, Bobby used his finger to push Rig’s chin up and close his gaping mouth. Rig instantly dropped the dice and moved his game piece.

Chapter 19

“
T
HANK
you very much,” Mason said smugly as he accepted Rig’s shorts, his last article of clothing.

Bobby already sat at the table in his birthday suit, shaking his head at a grumbling Rig. Mason, however, was completely clothed, minus his flip-flops.

“I’m pretty sure you cheated,” Rig complained, but the slight smirk softened the accusation.

“Totally not my fault that you landed on Go Directly To Jail three times or that you seem to have a fondness for Community Chest,” Mason said as he neatly folded Rig’s shorts and added them to the rest of his won clothing.

Not only had he not cheated, something impossible to do in Monopoly other than skimming cash from the bank—which he had not done—he’d shocked himself by suggesting the strip rule in the first place. Ever since Rig had jerked him off in the shower, he’d been thinking about them touching him again, imagined Bobby on his knees with Mason’s dick in his mouth rather than Rig’s, but he couldn’t ask.

It had been years since he’d actually asked for sex. Even before he’d met Gregory and Charles, he wasn’t one to ever initiate any type of physical intimacies. It just wasn’t in his nature, and while he loved how Bobby and Rig coddled him, cared for him, it was driving him fucking nuts and he was ready to shred the kid gloves off their hands.

“So now that you have us broke and naked, whatcha going to do with us?” Rig asked, leaning an elbow on the table, propping up his chin, and raising his brows.

“Umm… well….” Mason’s cheeks heated, and he studied the pile of clothes.