Bad Things (45 page)

Then he took his hands from Carson’s ass, raked his fingers through his hair, over his scalp as he kept kissing him. Fuck, Carson’s stillness was torture. He waited, kissing. Nothing. Finally he put one hand back on Carson’s ass, and coaxed another humping flex out of him. Then another. At first, Carson only moved against him when Xavier prompted him, pinching and squeezing his ass, dragging him up and down along his body. But finally Carson gave in, and started rubbing himself against Xavier, their cocks sliding against each other, against each other’s bellies, slick here and there with smears of precum.

God, Carson’s kiss. Again, still, every fucking time, like he was trying to feed him his soul. And the way he was undulating on top of him, more and more desperately, almost like he wanted to make them both come, just doing that.

Xavier grasped Carson’s hair and pushed him away from their kiss. Beautiful blue eyes startled, like Xavier had just cut the power, and they were awaiting death.

“I fucking love how you feel, Carson. Your kiss. Your body. What you’re doing.”

The fear of death in Carson’s eyes dimmed.

“God, I want to feel all that with your cock inside me.”

Pobrecito
. He looked so fucking scared. But after gazing at him a moment, Carson gave him a soft kiss, then said, “Okay.”

Figuring it was just wishful thinking, Xavier had prepped ahead of time, just in case. Thank fucking God. Because Carson’s first time had to be perfect, and no way could he get him back to that already precarious “Okay,” if Carson had to lie there waiting for fifteen minutes while he douched and showered.

Xavier rose up into a deep, ravenous kiss, raking his fingers through Carson’s hair, undulating under him until Carson’s nervous, cool stiffness faded again, and he was kissing and grinding with the same urgency they’d built up. Then Xavier pulled back and gave him a playful grin.

“
Give me the condom and the lube.”

Carson did, then watched Xavier sheathing his cock and coating it in lube. Carson yielded to a kiss. And he met Xavier’s eyes when he pulled back to look at him. But his quivering heat was gone.

Xavier gave him a smile. “You don’t have to,
cariño
.”

“
I know. I want to.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
I’m just nervous.”

“
All you have to do, is what feels good to you. Believe me, no matter what, I’m going to be fucking dying of pleasure, feeling you inside me. Watching you.”

Xavier gave him a kiss, then reached between them and brought the tip of Carson’s cock to his hole.

“Wait. We need to…I should…”

Grinning. “I’m all ready for you. Don’t worry.”

“You already—?”

“
Just in case. I’m an optimist.”

Carson didn’t smile. He just said, “Okay.”

But he didn’t move. Keeping one hand on Carson’s cock, Xavier curved the other over one ass cheek, and slowly coaxed him to him. Holding his startled gaze, guiding his cock, guiding his hips, Xavier rocked and pushed, and slowly swallowed Carson’s advancing cock.

“
Carson,” he whispered. “I knew you’d feel this good.”

Cradling his ass, Xavier kissed him. Flexed under him, coaxed him to move. When Carson started thrusting, cautiously, slowly, Xavier took his hands from his ass, just stroking his back, cradling his head as he rose up for a kiss, then sank down to watch his face.

Such pained concentration. Such anxiety. And then he felt it. Not Carson pulling back, but his softening cock slipping limply from his ass.

Carson shifted, trying to get off him, but Xavier kept him there.

Carson mumbled a guilty little, “Sorry.”

“
Why are you apologizing to me? I’m the one who pushed it. You’re not ready. That’s fine. Nothing for you to be sorry about.”

Xavier tried to kiss him, but Carson’s limp passivity was a more brutal refusal than if he’d recoiled or shoved him away.

Stroking his hair, hunting and trapping his evasive gaze, Xavier whispered, “
Cariño
. I made you nervous. This was my fault, not yours.”

The wounded shame in Carson’s eyes didn’t fade.

Xavier risked a small, teasing grin. “I have you pretty well trained to follow orders. But never in my life have I found a cock that would do what I told it. Not even mine.”

Carson gave him a small smile, but it was forced.

“So. Tonight, we’ll get some sleep for a change. And tomorrow, lover, I am going to fuck you. For hours. And your cock’s only responsibility will be to fill my mouth.”

Shit. That backfired. That shadow of hurt and embarrassment turned black. No tears, but the faint twist at the corners of Carson’s mouth made him look like he wanted to cry.

Xavier wrapped one arm around Carson’s waist, and belting him against his body, he rose up and flipped them both, so he had Carson under him. Like a fucking homecoming. And just that, no smile or kiss or caress, sucked half the darkness out of the shadow in Carson’s gaze.

Kind of obvious, really. If making Carson top turned his wood to putty, getting him under him was probably the antidote.

A test. Some gentle probing. A soft kiss, a few caresses. Carson, yielding. Shadow in that luminous blue not darkening. But not lightening, either. But when Xavier grasped Carson’s wrists—not too brutally, but firmly—and pinned them over Carson’s head, then swooped down and bit his bottom lip, tugging gently, then sinking in, just shy of drawing blood, Carson gasped and arched, and hand to fucking God, the shadow was gone. Clear fucking skies.

And when he tugged his teeth free of Carson’s lip, making him grunt in startled pain, he whispered against his ear, letting his stubble-rough jaw scrape against Carson’s soft cheek, “On second thought, you’ve had my dick aching for an hour. I think I might use your tight hole to drain this thing before it fucking bursts.” Against his belly he felt Carson’s limp cock lurch back to life.

And Carson’s eyes. Holy hell. Need flaring up hot and huge like a goddamned flash fire, incinerating everything that wasn’t his need to be fucked.

Still probing, exploring Carson’s tender points of pain and need, Xavier wrenched Carson’s knees open, wedged his hips between his thighs, and drove his cock up against his hole, hard enough it yielded slightly. And fuck. Fuck if Carson didn’t sigh, his soft lips parting, lids sinking and half veiling his eyes. As if the idea of being suddenly, brutally fucked dry was opium. Carson’s erection twitched against his belly, incarnation of raw need, blindly rooting for the hole it had shrunk from five minutes earlier.

Still holding his arms pinned overhead, Xavier growled at his ear, “Be still, now. You’ve already kept me waiting long enough.” He didn’t waste time being gentle. He got Carson’s hole lubed, stuffing one finger in to the hilt, then two. Then he wrapped both hands around Carson’s throat, watching his want flare up bright all over again, and told him to get a condom on his dick.

Fingers trembling slightly, Carson got a condom out of its wrapper and rolled it onto Xavier’s hard-on. It wasn’t a lie, or a game. He was in fucking agony with need.

The second Carson had him suited up, Xavier grabbed his wrists and pinned them back again, and nudged his dick along Carson’s crack until it found his hole, and he started working his way into him, patiently as he could, Carson whimpering and wiggling under him.

He got one hand wrapped tight around both of Carson’s wrists, and slapped his freed hand down over his mouth.

“Sssh. I’m almost inside you.”

Without mercy, he pushed the last few inches of his cock into the tight grasp of Carson’s ass.

With a cruel grin, Xavier said, “There. I know it’s going to hurt. But don’t worry. It’s not going to take long.”

Beautiful Carson. Every taunt, every threat was fuel on those rolling flames behind his gaze.

Xavier fucked him hard. Mercilessly. Not trying to hurt him, but sure as fuck not holding back, being cautious or gentle. And in just a couple minutes he was charging full force toward a brutal orgasm.

He pulled out. Holy God, looking into Carson’s eyes, it was like he’d just snatched a bottle away from a starving infant.

Xavier grinned, grabbed him, and flipped him onto his belly. Grasped his hips and hoisted him up. Pried his knees apart and drove his cock in to the hilt in one slow thrust.

He wanted to get Carson off. But what if the second he wrapped his fist around his hard cock, it withered in his hand? Maybe he couldn’t take that, tonight. Pleasure. Gratification.

Reaching down, Xavier caught Carson’s wrists again. This time he bent both arms behind Carson’s back, and clutching his wrists in one hand, slowly pushed them up along his spine until he felt the resistance of his tendons reaching their limit. Then he forced them up one more inch, until Carson cried out. There. That was his spot. Just on the edge between pain, and injury.

“
Quiet, lover,” Xavier said, crushing his free hand over Carson’s mouth, and starting to fuck him again, Carson’s grunts and cries vibrating and wet against his palm.

“
I’m going to play with your dick, now,” he said, taking his hand from Carson’s mouth. “But I want you to stay quiet.” He pushed his wrists up another quarter of an inch. Just a warning. “Understand?”

Grimacing, face red and damp, Carson nodded.

Puta pene de hierro
, Carson’s cock was hard. As soon as he started stroking him, Carson’s mouth gaped wide, and his silent groans huffed out in long, desperate exhales as Xavier kept on drilling his clenching, clinging hole, strangling his dick like it was trying to fucking murder it.

So he fucked him harder. Brutally. Reaming him. Slamming into him so hard his whole body shook with every impact. And hardly a minute after he’d wrapped his hand around his dick, Carson was coming, not silent anymore, not even quiet. Crying out in long, wavering howls of wrenching pleasure.

Not sure if it was for Carson, or for himself, as soon as he’d wrung the last spasms from his convulsing cock, Xavier let go and grabbed a fistful of hair, and rode his own need toward the edge of the abyss, and plunged.

He needed to check on Carson. Silent and still and limp, hot and trembling under him. Xavier fought his way back through the thick miasma of pure carnality, through his pleasure, his body’s delicious strain and sudden, startling lack of want, lack of need. That heavy, dragging satiety.

Gently, in pure contrast to every touch since he’d pushed Carson’s hands over his head, he eased Carson’s wrists down his back, gradually extending his arms, then let go of his wrists and carefully separated their bodies, and settled himself over him, enveloping Carson in his heat and strength, wrapping his arms around him. Kissed his hair, wavy locks almost curly now that they were wet with sweat. Kissed his ear. His cheek.

After a few still, quiet minutes he slipped down by his side. Big blue eyes awaiting his gaze. Even a shy smile. Not forced, now. Thank God. Because he realized, he’d gotten lost in it all, those last few minutes of frenzied fucking, and could have missed a twist in Carson’s mood.

Carson inched forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. There was so much gratitude and trust in his eyes, it startled Xavier. But he put his arms around him, and pulled him in close, and held him while Carson fell asleep.

Xavier did his breathing exercises. Tried meditating. But he couldn’t stop thinking about that look Carson had given him.

Or about how Carson’s erection had withered in a minute flat, as soon as Carson tried to top him. That wasn’t just performance anxiety. That was something much deeper and far darker at work.

Even though Xavier gave him a hot, greedy kiss goodbye in the morning, Carson couldn’t escape a hazy anxiety about Xavier, and he struggled all day to get through the photo shoot he’d spent the whole week planning. It was the second commission Aidan had helped him land, and Carson still couldn’t believe someone would pay what used to be two weeks’ salary behind the bar, for a few hours behind the camera and a couple days of editing.

Surprising, getting Xavier’s text the next afternoon, inviting him over again. Maybe it meant that his complete equipment failure the night before hadn’t ruined everything. Maybe Xavier was even relieved. Maybe he was only offering to reciprocate, because Carson had said such shitty things about Xavier using him. Xavier sure hadn’t had any trouble hitting his stride once they reverted back to their usual dynamic. Fuck, it was some of the best sex they’d had.

But he still felt pathetic. What guy can’t get it up when he gets the chance to really fuck for the first time? The other times, the times with women, didn’t really count. Because those times, he’d been wearing a disguise. The disguise he’d been wearing since he was nine. But with Xavier, he’d been naked. Himself.

And God, he wanted to. He was dying to. Thought about it, jerked off to the idea of it every day. But he’d never be brave enough to try again. Fuck, he’d barely had the courage to try then, and that was with Xavier practically sticking it in for him. And before humiliating himself.

As soon as Xavier let him in, his intense gaze and lack of his usual teasing grin told Carson he’d planned something intense. That was all it took; Carson’s cock twitched in the wake of a flood of heat to his groin.

He grinned at Xavier, knowing he’d notice he was a little embarrassed. More than a little aroused. Xavier still didn’t grin back. That dead serious look drove a thrilling pang of anxiety through Carson’s belly, into his cock.

Something white, something made of cloth hanging from Xavier’s hand.

“I want you to put this on.”

Carson took it from him and spread it open. His heart collapsed in on itself. He was going to be sick.

“Put it on, Carson.”

His throat went tight. Xavier blurred dark at the center of a halo of light, and Carson felt the warm wet of tears dropping down his cheeks.

Trying to make his voice normal, Carson asked, “How can you ask me to?”

Xavier leveled a demanding look at him.

Carson had thought he knew him. Knew what they were together. That he could surrender unconditionally because Xavier would keep him safe through everything. Every trial that felt like cruelty, but ultimately, in some strange way, gave him something, too. Not just Xavier.

But this? Xavier just wanted him to hurt. Or maybe this was his way of pushing him away. Getting rid of him.

Trying desperately to stop the tears in his eyes slipping down his cheeks, to control his ruptured voice, Carson said, “What? Is this like every single fucking children’s movie, where the kid throws rocks at his loyal dog to save him, because otherwise the neighbor’s going to shoot him? Kind of a trite move, Xavier. I always thought you were more clever.”

Stoic expression. Calm, even voice. “Maybe I’m testing you.”

“Testing me?” God, he was hurt. Angry. So angry it felt like hate.

“
Maybe I want to know if you’re still obedient. Like you were in the basement after I put my boot on your balls. Maybe I want to know if you’ll obey me, now, the way you obeyed your daddy when you were a little boy.”

He almost threw the shirt on the floor, said,
‘
Fuck you,’ and walked out. But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out of his throat. His muscles wouldn’t obey him. He couldn’t do that now, with Xavier, any more than he could have done that with his father when he was nine years old, meekly accepting his punishment in the attic of his parents’ house. His body felt frozen. Except for his violently, rapidly beating heart.

Trying to be brave, trying to stand straight, trying to breathe normally and keep his face composed even though he felt the tears sliding down his cheeks, he put on the shirt.

“Come here.”

He didn’t choose. His legs just carried him over to Xavier, like they were obeying him, separate from his brain.

How could he? Not even gloating. Not even breathing deep, savoring the pleasure of Carson’s crumbling heart cracking to pieces. Xavier was calm. Almost fucking blank. Like Carson’s dad.

Xavier’s eyes shifted down from Carson’s face, to the word written in black marker across his chest. Twice. Backward and forward.

“Is that what you are?”

If he said it out loud, he’d lose it. So he nodded.

“Tell me out loud.”

Fuck you.

Even if he wanted to obey him, he couldn’t make his mouth work. His tongue. His throat.

“
Tell me what you are, Carson.”

Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck him for making him cry like this, like a fucking helpless little kid.

“Say it, Carson.”

By the time the last word was out of his mouth, Carson was bawling. “I’m a fag.”

He was a fucking monster. Just standing there, watching him rot and fall apart. Not saying anything. Not doing anything.

Carson rubbed away the tears blinding him. Saw the veil of tears rising up in Xavier’s eyes.

Xavier raised his hands and almost touched him, but Carson flinched. Not on purpose. He held himself still, then, and Xavier combed his fingers into his hair, and slowly leaned in. Dark look reaching into him until it felt like Xavier was holding his heart in his hands, not cradling his head.

“
Carson. They were lucky to have you, and they were too dumb to see how good you are. Their beautiful son. Their beautiful brother. They should have loved you. They’re the broken ones. You’re perfect.”

Xavier kissed the crown of his head.

“Tell me again. What are you?”

He got it. He knew what Xavier was trying to do. But he couldn’t stop sobbing. “I’m a fag.”

Xavier gave him an impossibly sad smile. “You’re a good person. You’re brave. You’re selfless. You have a gift for showing us the world from an angle we’ve been blind to all our lives.”

Xavier kissed his cheek, over and over, following the path of Carson’s tears.

“What are you?”

He knew it. He’d known almost all his life. But his heart was hammering and he couldn’t breathe and it was hard to make his mouth form the words in his brain.

“I’m gay.”

“
You’re a beautiful lover. You look and touch with such earnest curiosity and want. When I’m inside you, you look at me so openly, it’s like you’re giving your soul to me. And your body. Your kisses. Touching you, kissing you, you make me feel like you’d feed me with the last bit of strength, of self you had, completely selflessly.”

Soft kisses, gently pressing Carson’s trembling lips between his.

“What are you, Carson?”

“
I’m gay.”

“
You like kissing men.”

“
Yes.”

“
Say it to me.”

His voice shuddered. “I like kissing men.”

“What else?”

Xavier let him kiss him. He needed it. Every second their lips brushed together, every time their tongues touched a little of his strength came back. But after a while, Xavier gently pushed him away.

“What else, Carson?”

A thousand words were choking him. He couldn’t say any of them.

“Do you get aroused, looking at men?”

He swallowed. Forced the word out. “Yes.”

“Be naked for me. Tell me.”

Carson clung to Xavier’s gentle command for safety. “I like watching you undress. Your body turns me on.”

“What else?”

“
I like it when you undress me and look at me.”

“
It excites you when men want you.”

“
Yes.”

“
What else do you like doing with men?”

“
I like touching them.”

“
More.”

“
I like feeling your Adam’s apple slide up and down under my hand when you swallow while we kiss. I like feeling your muscles contract and harden just under your skin.”

“
Keep going.”

“
I like feeling your cock stiffen in my hand while I touch you.”

“
What else?”

“
I like how it feels, your cock in my mouth, moving against my tongue. I like being fucked.”

“
You like fucking men.”

“
I like fucking men.”

“
What are you, Carson?”

“
I’m a fag. I’m gay.”

“
Don’t look away. Look at me. What are you?”

“
I’m gay.”

Xavier’s fingers combing into his hair, holding him. Maybe holding him up. Gaze pinning him there, holding him still.

“I love you, Carson.”

Like a punch to his solar plexus. He couldn’t breathe. His heart had stopped.

“What are you?”

No air. No breath. But somehow he said it. “I’m gay.”

“I love you.”

If he said it again, would Xavier tell him again?

“I’m gay.”

“
I love you.”

Tears streamed over his cheeks, tickling as they dangled on his jaw before dropping onto the T-shirt. He’d wanted to hear those words. He’d wanted Xavier to say them, even if he never let himself even fantasize it because he’d taught himself a long time ago not to hope for impossible things. But those words hurt. Not like a punch to the solar plexus. Like he’d been stabbed, and a thick blade was being twisted around inside his chest.

It felt true. He felt loved. And it hurt, because he hadn’t felt loved since he was nine years old.

Xavier led him to the full-length mirror mounted on the back of the bedroom door. Carson’s belly did a sickening flip. Now he got it, why Xavier had written the word twice. Forward and backward. Because he’d planned this. Putting Carson in front of the mirror so he could see himself, the word FAG huge on his chest, above its inversion. His gaze dodged away before that sight was more than a faulty impression. Blurred and underexposed.

His voice gentle, Xavier said, “Don’t look away.”

Standing behind him, Xavier met his eyes in the mirror, then bent and brushed his lips over his neck, and kissed. Electric thrill radiating from the skin under Xavier’s lips. Carson closed his eyes, focused on the warm thrum of the blood flowing to his cock.

“Do you like that?”

“
Yes.”

“
Carson. Open your eyes. Look at yourself.”

He looked. His face blotchy, eyes red from crying, making the irises startlingly blue. FAG, Forward and backward.

Xavier’s arms wrapping around him, big hands pressed to his belly.

“
You’re not invisible. I see you. That shirt can’t erase you. You father can’t erase you.”

Xavier planting kisses in his disheveled hair. Kissing his cheek. Leaning and twisting to kiss his mouth, sweet shallow kisses, first. Then deep.

They went back to gazing into the eyes of each other’s reflections. Xavier’s hands slid up under the T-shirt, slowly glided over his skin. Belly. Chest. Sensation soft and warm. In the mirror, he saw himself standing there, being caressed. Carson didn’t let himself close his eyes or turn away.

“
Do you like me touching you like this?”

“
Yes.”

“
Look. Do you see how beautiful you are?”

In Xavier’s arms, under Xavier’s mouth, he felt beautiful. But the sight of himself standing there, Xavier looming behind him, touching and kissing, jolted him. A cold, heavy shock.

“How beautiful we are,” Xavier said, his voice so low and smooth it was like bathing in it.

Xavier’s hands slipped out from under the shirt, and he feathered his fingertips up the length of Carson’s arms, sliding them up under the sleeves, over his shoulders, his touch cascading down again.

“Can you see it? How connected we are? How deeply we’ve learned each other, how we know each other now?”

Was it because he was hurting? Because the warm, gentle flow of Xavier’s words was hypnotic, slowing his heart, softening his taut muscles, letting him breathe? Or just those kisses and caresses? Carson was hard. Wanting. And fuck, he wanted away from that fucking mirror. Reaching back, he slid his hand against Xavier’s crotch. Found the thick bulge of his limp cock. Squeezed. Gave a few gentle tugs through his jeans.

“If you want me to fuck you,
cariño
, I’m going to do it here. I want you to see how beautiful your pleasure is.”