Bad Things (38 page)

Then Xavier looked at him, and grinned. “Christ, you’re a sight. You should see how swollen and red your lips are. You make me feel like a fucking cannibal. I could literally eat you.” He laughed, then kissed Carson’s lips. Softly. So tenderly it made Carson’s chest ache. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Carson asked, almost afraid Xavier really was about to take a bite out of him.

“
Dario taught you his…technique.”

It made no sense, but that comment made Carson’s face burn. Because Xavier knew Dario had given him head? Because now Carson knew—not just supposed, but knew—Xavier and Dario were lovers, too?

Xavier let him go, then got up and started getting dressed.

“
Where are you going?” he asked when Carson went toward the door.

“
Back to my room.”

Xavier picked up the card key off the night table and put it in his pocket. “I don’t think so.”

Carson laughed. “Come on. I need to brush my teeth.”

And jerk off. God, he was in agony.

That grin. “Absolutely not.”

A pang of resentment hit Carson’s gut. Then a gentle cascade of arousal bathed him in warmth at the strangely pleasant thought of going into that austere, grand courthouse and spending the day there with the taste of Xavier’s cock and come on his tongue.

Carson practically jumped at the knock at the door.

Xavier came up to him, ran his gaze over him, and whispered by his ear, “Your hard-on. Your swollen lips. You look positively obscene.”

Fuck. It felt like someone had hooked his cock up to a pump and was squeezing it full of more blood than was naturally possible, when the fact that Xavier was opening the door should have wilted his erection. Carson stuffed his hands into his pockets, desperately trying to camouflage the obvious bulge in his pants.

“
Good morning, Detective Porter,” Xavier said, a playful note in his quiet voice.

Did Porter have the flu or something? He looked like shit. “Xavier.” He sounded odd, too. Maybe there’d been bad news. When Porter noticed Carson, he startled. More than startled. He looked nervous. Almost afraid. “Morning, Carson.”

“Good morning.”

“
Let’s get breakfast. I’m starved,” Xavier said. Then turning and grinning he said, “Or did you already eat, Carson?”

Fuck, he had to get this blushing thing under control. “No. I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Uh, do you think we could meet you down at the buffet, Carson? There’s something I need to discuss with Xavier. It’ll just take a minute.”

Shit. Was there a problem with the evidence? The guy looked fucking miserable. It had to be something else, though, or he wouldn’t need to talk to Xavier in private. Hopefully it wasn’t anything to do with Elena.

“Yeah. Sure. See you guys in a few.”

Xavier intercepted him at the door. Put his hand on the handle, as if he was going to open the door for him, but then kept him there, hostage.

Mischievous smile. Low, intimate voice. “See you soon.” And before Carson realized what he was doing, Xavier kissed him. Not a lewd, wet, tongue kiss. Just a soft, lingering press of lips. But it felt like being stripped and fondled in front of Detective Porter. Carson was too shocked to move. Too shocked to breathe. When Xavier ended the kiss and opened the door, Carson slipped out into the hall as fast as he could, not so much as glancing at either of them.

God. Fuck. Why had Xavier done that?

Carson was at the door to his room, reaching into his pocket before he remembered he didn’t have the key. He needed to disappear, and he was locked out of the only private place there was. Trapped out there in the hallway. Exposed. They’d come out of Xavier’s room, and Porter would look at him. He’d look at him and imagine all the things Xavier had been doing with him, to entitle him to that kiss. He was going to puke. He was going to cry.

Not knowing where he was going, just knowing he had to get out of that hallway before Xavier’s door opened, Carson charged toward the elevator. When he got in, he couldn’t think of anything better, so he pushed the button for the restaurant. Got a glass of orange juice and sat at a table in the farthest, darkest corner he could find, fantasizing that they wouldn’t see him sitting there when they came down, and he could be alone until it was time to get in the car and go to the courthouse.

“
So. You and that kid, huh? Gotta say, I didn’t see that coming. Didn’t even realize he was gay.”

James had that,
‘
I’m a fucking idiot,’ look on his face. But at least now Xavier could relax and not worry they were going to go around and around in an endless boxing match of drunken horniness and self-hating drama.

“
Hey,” Porter said. “I just wanted to apologize. About last night. I was being an asshole.”

“
All I remember is us throwing back a couple shots.” He gave Porter a kind smile.

“
I mean it. Forgetting all that other shit, as a cop, as an officer who’s supposed to be here to protect you, I was way out of line.”

“
James. We’re good. I’m glad you and your gun are in the next room. I feel safe, knowing you’re there.”

The way Porter’s downturned mouth softened, Xavier could see his self-mutilated pride had been cauterized before it bled out.

“Come on. Let’s eat,” Xavier said, feeling in his pocket to make sure he had both key cards as they left.

Fucking delicious, the way Carson was blushing and squirming under Porter’s stare. Forced to choose, Xavier would have happily fed on that sight and given up the buffet. Of course, Carson was sitting there thinking it was because Porter had taken one look at him and seen Carson down on his knees, sucking Xavier’s cock, as clearly as if they’d given him a video of the whole scene, when really it was just Porter looking for a piece of himself inside that face that had deceived him. Just like he’d been deceiving his wife and kids and all the men and women who worked with him in vice.

After breakfast, they went to court. Every hour or so, the lawyers told them Carson would probably be called to the stand within the hour, and that Xavier would probably be called as the subsequent witness, but when it started getting dark outside, they were told the judge had called a recess until the next morning.

Back at the hotel, the three of them had dinner together, then went to the bar and had a round of drinks. Even Carson had a tequila. But only one.

When Porter suggested a second round, Xavier said, “Actually, Carson and I are going upstairs, now.” Drinking in Carson’s blushing consternation was way more intoxicating than another three shots of tequila would have been.

As soon as they were alone in the elevator, Carson gave him a reproachful look, but it only lasted a second, because Xavier pinned him against the mirrored back wall, hand against his throat, grabbed a fistful of hair, and devoured whatever protest might have been perching on his tongue.

When the doors slid open to let them out on the eighth floor, Xavier took Carson to his room and opened the door for him.

“
You might want to get cleaned up,” he said, “in case I decide to drop by later.”

God, the look on his face. Xavier relished it all through his workout, and through his shower, after, teasing his cock. Making himself suffer a little, the way he hoped Carson was suffering.

Knowing Carson was in his room, scrubbed and anxiously waiting, prolonging both of their anticipation, Xavier sent a few emails, checking in with Elena, answering the tattoo shop’s temporary manager’s two dozen questions.

When he let himself into Carson’s room—not bothering to knock, of course—Carson was sitting at the table by the window, doing something on his computer, which he immediately closed.

Puta Madre Maria
, it did something to him, the way Carson got to his feet and stood there, silently looking at him, just waiting to submit to whatever he said, whatever he did. The bulge of his stiffening dick already deliciously obvious.

“
Get undressed.”

Fuck, that trembling, aroused obedience. Xavier had never known anything like it.

No need to bark orders. All Carson needed was to know what he wanted. So he spoke softly. “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”

Jesus Christ, the sight of him, so anxious, so willing. So fucking hard.

This time, Xavier’d had time to prepare. An experiment. A little push, to see what else would open up, what other facet of Carson’s soul could be brought out of shadow.

Each wrist drawn in, under Carson’s body, and tethered to his ankle. Startling, how animal, how dehumanized a man could look, just by forcing his body into a slightly unnatural contortion. Knees splayed wide. Ass unavoidably lifted to display all the delicacies of his undercarriage, especially when Xavier slowly pressed down on the small of his back, getting that perfect curve and making Carson’s cheeks spread that taunting, extra little bit.

He didn’t blindfold or gag him. With his weight tipped forward like that, his face was pretty much buried in the pillow. Half smothered, half gagged. Unable to see Xavier.

“
Were you impatient, waiting for me tonight?” he asked quietly, forcing Carson to strain to hear him as he ran just the tip of his finger lightly down the shallow furrow, over his defenseless hole, thrilling at the tremor running through Carson’s body. “Wondering when I’d come? If I’d come?”

He set the things he’d need on the bedspread, near Carson’s foot. Climbing onto the mattress behind him—hell, it took his fucking breath, the way Carson went stone still in nervous anticipation—he laid his hands on those two gorgeous round cheeks. Even though his asshole was right there in plain sight, he spread him open a little wider, relishing the gasp and shudder he knew Carson would give him.

“I was impatient, too. You kept me waiting almost three months. Twelve weeks, Carson. Aching to see you spread and offer me your hole. To watch you sink to your knees and give me your mouth. So I want to give you a reminder not to be so thoughtless with my things.”

Xavier picked up the riding crop he’d bought that afternoon during the lunch recess at court, at the sex shop inevitably located in every urban downtown. A little prop to reinforce Carson’s sense of safety and keep that inward-turned fear at bay. A promise Xavier was still in control here, just like in the basement.

For a moment, he felt the whip teeter on his palm, getting a sense of its weight and balance, then grasped the handle and whiffed the length back and forth through the air. A flimsy toy compared to the one he had at home, but it would do.

Xavier ran his hand over Carson’s hard dick, his hanging balls, his exposed hole, drinking down the nectar of Carson’s stiff, trembling suspense, wondering if he’d guessed the significance of the sound the crop had made as it had sliced through the air, or whether it was pure suspense making Carson’s body quiver like that.

He brought the leather tip of the crop down on the luscious left cheek of Carson’s pale rump, good and fucking hard. So hard, Carson didn’t just gasp. He squealed, hitting a weird high note as he sucked in his breath. And after, there he was, trussed up, ribs going in and out like a bellows. Xavier waited, watched the flame of red spread over his smooth skin, watched the in-out of Carson’s breaths alter from startled alarm, to the halt and gasp of anxious anticipation. And Carson’s sweet cock, engorged to the fucking limit.

His own wasn’t exactly limp.

A little more cruelly, he struck the other cheek. A few seconds later, a blotchy red mark emerged. But even better, Carson’s neck and ears were scarlet. His face, too, probably, but it was hidden in the pillow. Pain. Humiliation. All those capillaries dilating, competing with his cock for blood.

Xavier sank his fingers into Carson’s hair, pushed his face down into the pillow, and hit him again. Again. Got him crying and squirming more and more desperately, cock beautifully obscene, ruddy, veins swollen, and,
puta pene maravillosa
, cockhead seeping.

When the twelfth strike hit its mark, Xavier tossed the crop aside and pounced on Carson with all the cruel hunger of those twelve weeks of doubt, and the vicious want ripping through him with every stinging whack of the crop against Carson’s rump, red and throwing off heat like a frying pan. He grasped both cheeks, spread him wide, and settled his mouth over Carson’s hole, sliding the flat of his tongue over his pucker in one long, slow stroke, Carson’s startled cry making him fucking crazy.

“This is how I like you, Carson. Ass in the air and spread wide like you’re begging me to get in there and eat it. To stuff your hole with my hard dick.”

He reached under, got hold of Carson’s cock, and drew it back, between his legs, until he had his hole, his balls, and his leaking dick all in a nice, neat all-you-can-eat buffet line. When he licked, sliding his tongue over that engorged, seeping crown, pressing down between his balls, over his taint, over his hole, and up along the fuzzy furrow of his ass, Carson writhed and moaned so beautifully, Xavier could hardly fucking bear it. He went on eating, teasing and probing his hole, sucking his balls, nursing at his plump cock head until Carson whimpered his need to come.