By His Rules (12 page)

jean-clad ass half a dozen times at full force.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Aiden went still. “I said my safe word,” he

whispered.

“I’m not doing anything to you tonight that I

haven’t done a hundred times before,” Scott said, setting

Aiden’s feet back on the floor. “Don’t be a twat.”

“I don’t want this tonight. I’m serious. I’m not

playing around.”

“Neither am I. I’ve let you get way out of hand.

You’re going to be a good boy and take what you’ve got

coming.”

He hauled Aiden’s jeans down. Aiden kicked out,

catching Scott squarely in the hip.

“Ow! You little fucker.” Scott threw himself over

Aiden, slamming one arm across the back of his neck.

Aiden’s face struck the table, and his nose began to

bleed.

“Stop this bullshit right now.”

Scott’s elbow dug between Aiden’s shoulder

blades. Aiden heard Scott’s belt yanked through the

loops.

“Go ahead and safe word, you coward,” said Scott.

“Say it one more time, and I’ll stop. But you know what I

think? I think you get off on this. On fighting me and

knowing I’ll win. Knowing I’ll make you take what you

deserve, whether you want it or not. Am I right?”

Aiden didn’t answer. Blood dripped from his nose

onto the table. Scott was at least partly right. Even in this

mess of terror, pain, and—for the first time—pure hatred,

something in Aiden was thrilled by the danger, the

wrongness of this. “Yes, Sir.” He hoped when he said the

words, they would become true. He’d realize that what

was happening right now was exactly what he wanted.

The terror would leave him, and he’d give in to lust, to

hunger. Instead he felt more miserable and confused

than ever.

He knew it would be easier, faster, to just lie still

and let Scott do what he wanted. But his heart was

pounding too hard, and his body was too electric with

fear. He waited until Scott shifted to double his belt in

his hand, then launched himself backward, falling

against Scott and sending them both to the floor.

Scott bellowed, shoving Aiden off him. Aiden tried

to crawl under the table, but Scott dragged him out. The

belt fell indiscriminately across Aiden’s body, striking

his arms, his sides, hips, shoulders, and legs. Aiden

raised his arms to protect his face and caught a hard

blow to his upper arm that left him dizzy and sick. Scott

hauled him up by the hair.

“Are you going to behave?” Scott demanded.

Tears streamed down Aiden’s face and mixed with

the blood running from his nose. His shoulders shook

with the effort of holding back sobs. “Yes, Sir.”

“Bend over the table,” Scott said very softly.

This time Aiden obeyed without protest.

Aiden woke on Hera’s couch. He tried to move, but

pain sang through his body. He stared at the ceiling,

wondering if Scott knew he was gone yet. If so, was he

angry? Indifferent? Did he understand that Aiden had

left for good?

Scott had made Aiden come to bed after he’d

fucked him. Aiden had lain as far from Scott as possible,

hurting and more afraid than he could ever remember

being. He’d waited until Scott was snoring to grab what

he could of his stuff and bolt. Hera’s was the only place

he could think to go.

Someone was in the kitchen. When that someone

emerged moments later, Aiden shut his eyes, pretending

to be asleep.

“Coffee.”

It wasn’t a question. Kim set a mug on the table in

front of the couch. Kim, solid, quiet, in her third year of

med school. She’d taken him into the bathroom last night

and had him undress. She’d cleaned up the places Scott’s

belt had broken skin, checked his bruises, and given him

pain pills. She’d been so calm, so sure of herself that

Aiden had somehow gotten past his humiliation and

allowed Kim to examine him for rectal tearing. She

hadn’t been pleased with what she saw, but she’d told

him he didn’t need stitches.

He picked the mug up and drank, not caring that

the coffee burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

He wondered what Kim knew about his lifestyle, what

Hera had told her girlfriends about Aiden, about Scott.

Kim hadn’t asked questions last night. She didn’t ask

questions now either, just sat down in the armchair

beside the couch and sipped her coffee.

“How’s the pain?” she asked finally.

“Bad,” Aiden said.

“I’ll get you another pill with breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You shouldn’t take this med on an empty stomach.

We’ll do something easy on your digestive system.

Oatmeal?”

Aiden winced, thinking about the times Scott had

made him eat bland, watery oatmeal from a bowl on the

floor. “No, thanks.”

“Grits? Toast?”

“I really don’t think I can eat.”

“Fruit smoothie,” Kim said with certainty. “Tastes

good, easy to digest, good for you.”

“Okay,” Aiden muttered. He didn’t need anyone to

take care of him; he was fine. He just needed to sleep.

Though maybe what he really hated was the relief

he felt at being taken in hand, cared for. He thought

about Keaton Hughes, insisting Aiden take his coat on

the pier. How quickly his outrage at the man’s

intrusiveness had faded. How much he’d wanted to

believe Keaton’s concern for him was real.

Aiden sighed. He didn’t want to think about

Keaton. Or Scott. Or
tops
. He was through submitting to

anyone.

The smoothie was good. He drank almost all of it,

took another pain pill, and was suddenly exhausted. He

collapsed on the couch again and fell asleep.

When he woke again, Hera was in the room. She sat

down on the edge of the couch, next to his legs, and said,

“I’m only going to say ‘I told you so’ once. I told you so.

Now, how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Aiden said.

“You need to call the police.”

“What?”

“To report Scott.”

Aiden tried to sit up, winced at the pain. “Hell no.”

“What do you mean hell no? He assaulted you.”

“It wasn’t—it’s not the kind of thing I can tell the

police.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t—because of the situation.”

“What’s the situation?”

“Scott’s my dom. We had an agreement. He could

do whatever he wanted to me.”

Hera shook her head. “You said you safe worded

and he didn’t stop. That’s rape.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“
I’m
being ridiculous? That man beat you and had

sex with you even though you made it
clear
you didn’t

want to. That, my friend, is the very definition of assault

and rape, and you need to report it.”

“I won’t.”

Hera stared at him. “I’ll assume Scott’s beating

scrambled your brain. We’ll talk about this later, when

you’re thinking clearly.”

“I’m not going to report it.”

“Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Why are you being this way?” Aiden demanded.

“Because I care about you! Way more, apparently,

than you care about yourself.”

Aiden hesitated. “I didn’t safe word.”

Hera narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I lied earlier. I just—I was upset that I let things

get out of hand last night. The scene was really intense,

and I didn’t realize I was gonna end up getting hurt. I

was sort of pissed at Scott for going so far, so I told you

I’d safe worded and that he didn’t listen.” Aiden faltered.

Hera was staring at him in a way that told Aiden she

didn’t find his story at all convincing. “But I didn’t safe

word. I actually told Scott he could keep going.” Sort of

true. Hadn’t his “yes, Sir” when Scott asked if he secretly

liked being forced essentially been acquiescence?

“Even if that’s not the utter bullshit it sounds like,

these injuries aren’t part of legitimate BDSM play.” Hera

touched the bruise on Aiden’s arm where the belt had

caught him.

“What do you know about it?” Aiden asked.

“I know the difference between assault and kink.”

“Drop it.”

“So what, if Scott didn’t do anything wrong and this

lovely collage of bumps and bruises is legit, are you

going back to him?”

Aiden looked away.

“Well?”

“I don’t—think so, no.”

“That’s something, I guess.”

Aiden sighed, flopping back against his pillow, not

caring about the pain that shot through his body. “I don’t

know what to do. My subletter doesn’t move out for

another two months.”

“You can stay here as long as you need.”

He looked at her. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She reached out and ruffled his hair, ignoring his

flinch. “I’ll try to knock some sense into you while you’re

here.”

Aiden tried to smile. “I don’t need your version of

sense.”

“Hey. Be nice to me, or we three witches will put a

curse on you.”

She left him to rest.

* * * *

as Aiden had known it would. The house was crowded;

he always felt in the way. Kim, Sloane, and Hera tried to

include him in things like cooking dinner and watching

movies, but he knew the house felt as claustrophobic to

them as it did to him. Friendly bickering had always

provided a foundation for Aiden’s and Hera’s friendship,

but now they argued constantly.

He knew he needed to make other living

arrangements, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it. The

idea of living alone terrified him. Being alone meant

being alone with memories of Scott. He wasn’t sure how

keen he was on living with strangers, but it might be

better than this. Strangers, at least, wouldn’t badger him

to eat or tell him he should consider counseling.

He’d had an excuse to avoid food the first few days

—the damage to his rectum made going to the bathroom

painful, and it had been easy to refuse meals. But now

Hera wanted him to eat three meals a day.
Not
going to

happen. He was already panicked over what the missed

gym time was doing to his body. No way was he going

to lie around here getting fat. Even the
idea
of food made

him sick.

He could sometimes eat meals Kim prepared. Her

vegan cooking wasn’t too heavy or greasy, and it tasted

good. He liked the evenings when Hera and Sloane both

worked and he could help Kim cook. They’d eat in

silence or watch a movie, and Aiden would forget about

Scott for a while.

He tried to go out in the evenings. His plan was

always to go to bars and meet guys he could spend the

night with so that Hera and her fiancées could have some

privacy. But he never made it to the bars. Something in

him balked at the idea of spending the night at a

stranger’s—at having sex. He spent a lot of time at the

library or the coffee shop, trying to muster up the

concentration to read a book, or else staring in frozen

terror at his grad school applications.

Auditions for the next community theater

production had come and gone. He’d received a couple

of texts from his
Twelfth Night
cast mates, reminding him

to audition, but he’d never answered. He didn’t answer

Scott’s calls, either.
Please leave me alone
, he begged

silently whenever his phone buzzed and Scott’s number

appeared.

One evening he was walking downtown when he

passed a two-story house with light blue siding and a

ROOM FOR RENT sign out front. He knocked on the

door and was given a grand tour by a short, heavy

woman in a tank top and pajama pants. The house

seemed to harbor far more people than there were

rooms. The kitchen was messy and full of tarnished

coffee cans that served as communal ashtrays. Still, the

room was only three hundred a month, and living here

would get him out of Hera’s way until he could reclaim

his old apartment. He told the woman he’d think it over

and call her tomorrow.

Hera was outraged when he told her. “No way are

you going to live in some slimy, overcrowded boarding

house when you have a perfectly good couch right here.”

“You know you don’t want me here,” Aiden

protested. “I’m in the way, I’m not paying rent, and I

know I’m not much fun to be around these days… ”