Bad Things (36 page)

In Carson’s head, it had seemed almost easy. He’d just go to Xavier’s door and knock. But now that he’d gotten himself ready, he was sick with fear and couldn’t make himself open his own door and step out into the hallway. Part of him knew it wasn’t true, but the rest of him was terrified Xavier would laugh. Wouldn’t even let him in out of the hallway to talk. That if he did let him in, it would be to humiliate him even more cruelly than he had in his basement.

The only thing more impossible than turning the handle, walking down the hall and knocking on Xavier’s door, was getting undressed and getting in bed without seeing him. Without talking to him.

Like a switch flipped in his brain, Carson’s mind went blank, and his body moved, and he was there, in front of 809, knocking, dizzy, the smooth plane of the door hard and cold against his knuckles, his belly tight and floaty feeling. Limbs weak and rubbery.

Xavier. Gazing down at him. No mocking grin. No anger in his dark eyes.

Carson was supposed to say, “Could we talk?” But he couldn’t dislodge the words from his throat.

After a moment of peering into him, Xavier pulled the door wide, and stepped aside. Heart slamming his ribs, Carson went in. Watched Xavier close the door.

Now it was dumb to say, “Could we talk?” He should forget the preamble, and just start really talking. But it was all gone, the whole speech he’d been rehearsing mentally for hours. For days. And with every passing second he was more and more sure that mocking gleam was going to come into Xavier’s eyes, under one cocked eyebrow. That he was going to laugh. Say out loud all the things Carson had been thinking about himself.

Moving was easier than speaking. Even if it was a ridiculous thing to do, even if Xavier would laugh at him. Carson stepped close.

Xavier didn’t move. Not even to grin.

The air was thicker than water, dense and viscous. So hard to move. Carson reached forward and just barely touched the buckle of Xavier’s belt. Xavier stood perfectly still as Carson slid the tongue through the buckle and off the prong. As he pulled the leather free of the loops in Xavier’s jeans. Except Carson could see that he was already breathing faster, harder.

God, what was he doing? What had he done? All those weeks apart, he’d convinced himself Xavier wasn’t really dangerous. That Dario was right, that Xavier had carefully, presciently read what Carson had needed, and given it to him.

But now that Carson had come to his room and blithely started this, a sickening doubt swept over him. All Xavier had done was gleefully dance back and forth along that indistinct line, saving himself a few scraps of plausible deniability. And now Carson was standing in Xavier’s hotel room, handing him indemnity on a silver platter. With that in his favor, how far would Xavier go?

As the seconds ticked by on the clock mounted beside the door, a grin slowly widened and curved Xavier’s lips. Finally, after long moments of facing each other in perfect stillness, Xavier put his hand forward, palm up. Asking? Demanding?

It was like Xavier’s small gesture was an irrefutable order. Carson didn’t even ask himself if he would or not, if he should or not. He just put the belt in Xavier’s hand.

God.
A shudder rippled through Xavier. Carson could see his massive chest swelling each time he breathed. Holding Carson’s gaze, Xavier ran his hand down the length of leather, like a caress. Then slid the tongue through the buckle, making a noose.

So much fear. So sudden. Even though it was why he’d come. What he’d thought he wanted.

Xavier brushed the loop of leather across his own lips, drawing in a deep breath, lids sinking half over his eyes like it was the most sensual caress imaginable.

“
This is quite an invitation, Carson.”

What could he say? What did he need to say to make sure things wouldn’t go too far?

Striking like a cobra Xavier caught Carson’s arm and cinched the belt down tight on his wrist. It was silly to struggle, to claw the noose open and yank his wrist free, because he’d given him the belt knowing that was exactly what Xavier would do. Because if he struggled now, after giving that silent consent, Xavier would just overpower him.

Or maybe not. Maybe he’d still let him change his mind. Let him out of that makeshift restraint. Let him open the door. Let him go back to his room.

Still grinning, standing there calmly watching Carson’s frozen panic, Xavier seemed to be listening in on his muddled thoughts. Then he caught his other arm, deftly threaded the tongue of leather back through the buckle and pulled it taut.

Now he was fucked. He couldn’t pull his hands free if he’d fought his hardest. The only way he was getting out of this, now, was if Xavier let him out of it. Before he could get up the courage to ask, Xavier was driving him backward. Onto the bed. Dragging him, shoving him, lifting him, pinning him. Straddling his chest, Xavier fastened the belt to the headboard.

Oh God. Oh God.

Had he wanted this? This helplessness? This fear? Xavier on top of him, dark eyes absorbing Carson’s panic like sustenance?

He almost wished Xavier would grin. Laugh. The humiliation would be easier to take than that unreadable gaze. That awful silence.

Xavier wet his thumb with his tongue and brushed it across the crease between Carson’s lips. Dark gaze shifting from Carson’s mouth to his eyes, leaning in, Xavier touched his tongue to that wet crease, then slowly pushed in, his deep, demanding kiss driving a thrill, rousing and sickening, through Carson’s whole body. After, Xavier lingered there, so close his breath played against Carson’s wet lips.

“I want you naked.”

Xavier slipped both hands under Carson’s shirt, pressed them flat against his belly, slid them upward, over Carson’s skin, over his nipples, until his torso was bare and his shirt was bunched up under his armpits. Eyes tracking the rise of that shirt, then continuing upward and locking on Carson’s fretful stare, Xavier’s gaze was oddly grave.

“I don’t mean your body. I’ll strip you bare. That’s easy. I mean you. I want you naked to me. No hiding. You’ve been hiding from me ever since you got in the back of Porter’s car.”

Xavier raked his fingers into Carson’s hair, hinting at roughness, teasing toward pain, sending a rush of shivers down his neck, down his spine, into his balls.

“No lies. Promise me.” Not a request. Not a plea. An order.

Carson felt himself nod.

“Did you and Dario fuck?”

Blood surging to his cheeks and throat at a boil.

“Mmmm. That’s a yes,” Xavier purred. Not jealous. And who would he be jealous of? Him? Or Dario? “But I want you to confess out loud. Did you and Dario fuck?”

Carson tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. “Yes.”

A deep breath. A sigh. Feeding on whatever image that
‘
yes’ conjured in Xavier’s mind.

“
Was he sweet with you? Was Dario gentle and tender?”

“
Yes.”

“
He didn’t tie you up? Pin you down? Scare you into submission?”

“
No.”

Xavier laughed. “You say it like Dario’s incapable of being rough. Cruel.” He sank down the inch or two separating them and whispered, “But I could tell you stories.”

A sudden, deep kiss, like Xavier was feeding on Carson’s shock.

“
And Aidan? The two of you fucked, too?”

Carson nodded.

“Sweet and gentle, too? And the three of you, all together? Sweet soft kisses. Patient caresses. Did they put their arms around you and hold you while you slept?”

“
Why?” Carson didn’t understand. Was Xavier angry? Trying to poison those memories?

“
Just making sure there aren’t any misunderstandings, this time.” Dark eyes probing. “Is that what you came in here for? What you were asking for when you took off my belt and handed it to me?” Releasing one hand’s grip on Carson’s hair, Xavier caressed his cheek. “Did you come to my room hoping for soft warm kisses? Gentle caresses?”

Carson’s heart slammed against his sternum as Xavier slid down and feathered the tip of his tongue across his nipple. An unsettling thrill jolted his cock. Wet flat of tongue sliding upward over the alert, sensitive peak of his hardening flesh. Xavier’s mouth circled his nipple, gently pressing his flesh between his lips in a dozen little kisses.

Then that look.

“
Is that what you need from me, Carson?”

He didn’t reply. Not out loud. Not with a nod. But the way Xavier grinned, Carson could see he had his answer.

Suddenly Xavier’s mouth sealed over Carson’s other nipple, sucking fiercely, biting. Startling, almost hurting, electric surges jolting through Carson’s abdomen, into his balls. Mouth abandoning his throbbing flesh, and sinking down on his throat, tonguing, teeth raking. Sucking.

Squirming helplessly, wrists bound, hips pinned under Xavier’s weight, Carson was gasping, trying desperately not to cry out, not to moan.

Finally Xavier relented, hovering over him, looking deep into his eyes.

“
There. That’s it. What you came for.”

Xavier’s weight lifted and his hand wrapped around Carson’s erection and squeezed him through his pants.

“And there’s my second opinion.”

With that pronouncement, all Carson’s hot, pulsing blood cooled and stilled. And Xavier, too, as if he’d felt Carson’s wild need evaporate. Movement in suspension, Xavier hovered over him, staring into him, as if he’d opened Carson up alive so he could explore and study.

Another viper strike, and Xavier’s huge hand wrapped around Carson’s throat, then tightened, sending a bolt of panic to his gut.

“
Poor baby. You can take the hostage out of the basement, but you can’t take the basement out of the hostage, eh? You didn’t even want to come here, did you? But you know what happens when you don’t give me what I want.”

Xavier bit Carson’s lip, and like a valve had been opened on a pump, all Carson’s blood went surging, hot, straight toward his balls.

Sliding down, Xavier undid Carson’s fly and dragged his pants and briefs down his thighs, down his calves, until they were bunched at his ankles. After he’d wrenched off his shoes, he tugged Carson’s pants over his feet and dropped them on the floor.

Towering there at the foot of the bed, Xavier took his time looking over his naked prey, then locked eyes with Carson. “Be good. Unless you want to be punished.”

Almost an involuntary response. Carson’s knees rose and fell open.

“
Is that the best you can do?”

Carson didn’t understand. It was what Xavier had always wanted, in the basement. That exposure. That vulnerability.

Xavier’s gaze drifted around the room, then came back to Carson. “I know you’re making an honest effort, so I’ll help you out.”

Going to the window, Xavier took the sashes from the curtains, then came back to the bed. Carson fought his fear, suppressed his urge to struggle as, with methodical patience, Xavier threaded one of the lengths of shiny gold cloth under Carson’s knee, and tied the ends together inside the crook of his elbow before circling around the foot of the bed and doing the same to his other leg, forcing Carson’s spine to curve, his ass to rise up in the air. Spread wide, Carson’s face burned as Xavier’s gaze settle on his exposed hole, his balls, his hard cock.

But Xavier didn’t grin, the way he’d always been amused, those days and nights in the basement, when he’d seen Carson blush. He was looking at him soberly. And then he started undressing.

It was what he’d come for, wasn’t it? To invite Xavier to fuck him. He’d even been honestly afraid of being turned away. So why was his face burning? Why was his heart hammering so painfully? Why, when Xavier pulled his T-shirt over his head, did the sight of that bared, tattooed torso drive such a sickening thrill of fear into his gut? And then, God, seeing Xavier’s big cock, flushed, swelling, starting to rise, Carson couldn’t help straining against the belt lashing his wrists to the headboard. Which, he realized as Xavier’s grin suddenly appeared, had caused his upraised ass to wiggle as his elbows shifted the curtain sashes threaded under his knees.

But within a second, that grin was gone. And why was Xavier being so quiet? Where were all his sadistic taunts? More and more, that silence, that sternness was eroding the frail, small feeling Carson had that on some level, however crazy their history, that he knew him. That he knew what to expect from Xavier.

He watched as Xavier went to his suitcase, dug through the jumble of clothes, and came back to the bed with a compact, black overnight bag.

“Do you know all humans are hard-wired with a fear, a kind of phobia of small holes? That there’s a primal need to fill them? To make things whole?”

For a few insane seconds, Carson thought Xavier was talking about the holes that kept opening up inside of him, making him feel like he was rotting, no matter what he did to try to fill them.

Xavier pulled out a small bottle of lube, and a toy Carson hadn’t seen before. Like a dildo, shaped like a smallish cock. When he’d lubed it up, Xavier knelt between Carson’s knees.