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… ”