by J. M. Dabney
“He's gotta go.”
Linus didn't even flinch simply relaxed back in his chair and stared at him.
“Give him to Pure.”
“And why should I do that, Livingston?”
“None of your fucking business, I want him out of my house.”
A slow infuriating smirk spread the corners of Linus' mouth, and for the first time in their friendship, he wanted to knock the fucker’s teeth out.
The kid's presence was everywhere in his place from Fielding’s sweet scent in his bed to meals kept warm in the oven to the boy using his favorite leather jacket as a blanket as he read. It was getting downright domestic at his place. Shit was going to start giving him fucking hives with all the normalcy going on, and he raised his hand to massage the tic under his right eye.
“Want the pretty thing on your dick?”
“Fuck you, man, give him to someone else. I don't care who.”
He knew it was a lie, and from the arrogant smirk, Linus picked up on it too. He ground his back teeth together waiting for Linus to call him out on it.
“You know that ain't true, Liv. I send him home with someone else, and you know what's going to happen?”
He didn't want to hear it.
“That's right. You'll ride right over to get your boy.”
“You knew this would happen,” he hollered.
The man didn't even have to answer. It was right there in his smug expression and the amusement in his blue-green eyes.
He fell into one of the guest chairs in front of Linus' desk and scrubbed his hands over his face. He grew more pissed when his fingers and palm caught on the uneven skin. His wasn't a face or body for permanence. He couldn't even remember the last time he hooked up. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he wanted someone. Someone who saw the scars yet they wouldn't matter. More than a drunken fuck in a different state or town, where if he were rejected, only strangers would witness it.
“So you still want to send him with Little, Pure, maybe Raul?”
He growled at the mention of Raul being anywhere near Fielding. Raul had tried to fuck Pure out of his system for years, and Raul wasn’t picky—he was an any-hole-would-do kind of guy.
“I hate you.”
“Want to go a few rounds, maybe show off for him?”
“Fuck you,” he rumbled and pushed up from the chair. “Hunter figure anything out?”
“Your boy's stalker is good. His electronic footprint is almost non-existent. He's got a few leads but nothing clear. Probably run into more dead ends. The letters and packages were forwarded through mailing services several times. We're following the tracking info maybe get a geographical profile.”
A large Manila envelope sailed his way, and he caught it.
“Burner phone with all of us programmed in. We set him up with a GPS device to wear at all times. There's a drive with all the emails and photos of the letters and gifts, some he's received in the last week. Get to know the enemy. That fucker isn't going to stop. He thinks he owns Fielding.”
“Not a fucking chance. Have we considered this could be a woman? I read the file. The verbiage was pretty androgynous.”
“It’s a thought I had, but my gut says it’s a man.”
“We won’t know shit until we catch them.” He tapped the envelope against his knee.
“Go help Little before I put his ass at a desk.”
“Still fucking hate you.”
He listened to Linus' deep laugh as it followed him out of the room. He slammed the door and went to collect his boy. Either he'd remain strong and resist, or he'd give in, and his boy wasn't going anywhere today or four months from now.
Four
Junk Food Everywhere!
He turned in a circle in the junk food aisle. Chips, cookies, and candy lined the shelves. Livingston told him before they exited his vehicle that they were there for supplies. He twined his fingers so he wouldn’t reach for anything. It had been two years since he’d had chocolate. His mother was always there to smack his hand or say something about his weight. He glanced over his shoulder to find the huge man watching him. Livingston’s face was expressionless.
The one-sided conversation he’d overheard between Livingston and Little still played in his mind. Spankings, subs, and he wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know what those meant. He didn’t know what a lifestyle like that entailed, but it had made him blush when he’d met Little and Pure, he’d barely been able to talk when he was introduced to Raul. Livingston had mentioned if he was Raul, Pure would be tied up and punished. He banished the ideas before he started blushing and drew attention to himself. His thoughts about Livingston were already more detailed than they should be and he’d only spent a week with the man.
“Did you want something?”
“What can I have?”
“I think one bag of chips, a pack of cookies, and candy will last you until we come back in a few weeks, do you believe that’s fair?”
“I can have that much?” He hadn’t dared hope for one thing, but he was allowed three different things. He glanced down at the toes of his shoes and tried to hide his excitement.
“I won’t abide you getting sick from too much, so we’ll discuss how much you can have per day.”
“Yes, sir, but could I have two bags of candy instead of the cookies. I never really liked those.”
“You may. I’ll finish shopping for what we need; then I’ll be back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Livingston’s presence was so overwhelming that he knew the minute the man left the aisle. What was he supposed to get? What if he didn’t choose before Livingston was back and he didn’t let him get anything. He darted his gaze around, twisted his fingers until they hurt.
“Man, you okay? You look like you’re getting ready to have a panic attack.” A feminine voice came from his left, and he spun to see a black woman in coveralls watching him.
“He told me I could have chips and candy and I don’t know what to get. Maybe if I don’t choose he won’t let me have—”
“Who’s he, and why is he telling you what you can and can’t have? That’s bullshit.”
The anger radiating off the woman made him nervous. He didn’t want her to think bad of the big man.
“Livingston doesn’t want me to get sick.”
“Livingston, that explains it. Come on, little man, let’s find you junk food before your Daddy comes back. Uncle Liv can be a bit of an ass, but he’s fair. I’m Juvie.”
“Fielding.”
“Nice to meet you. You’re new in town. Liv works quick if he got you already.”
He remained silent because he didn’t know if it was safe to explain even to someone who was apparently close to Livingston enough to call him Uncle. He was curious about the big man but refrained from asking questions.
“Okay, why would junk food make you sick?”
“I haven’t had it in years.”
“No wonder you’re too skinny. Princess!” The woman’s voice boomed, and a pretty, full-figured girl ran into the aisle.
She wore a flowing hippie style dress that emphasized her curves rather than hid them. She stopped in the aisle, tilted her head to the side, and slammed her hands on her hips.
“You bellowed, Juvie?”
“My new friend Fielding here hasn’t had junk food in years. He needs help.”
“Oh, hi, I’m Princess. So, what’s our budget?”
“Oh, I—I don’t know, Livingston said I could have two bags of candy and one of chips.”
“Uncle Liv is around. Bossy bastard.”
“He’s not, he just—”
“Relax, no need to defend him,” Juvie assured him.
For the next fifteen minutes, Juvie and Princess helped him settle on chips and his candy.
“Shit.” Livingston’s voice made him spin, and Livingston was caught in a two-way hug.
It looked as if Juvie and Princess were squeezing the air out of his lungs. He barely kept from smil
ing, but then he frowned as Princess jumped up and wrapped her legs around Livingston to press kisses to the scarred side of the big man’s face. An odd sensation bloomed in his stomach, and he didn’t like it.
“Uncle Liv, miss you.”
“Princess, you saw me two weeks ago on our last run.”
Livingston wore a smile, a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He wanted that smile for him.
“You don’t spend enough time with the Crews.” Princess pouted.
Juvie laughed as she peeled Princess off Livingston and hugged Princess around the waist.
“Hands off, Princess, you’re making his boy jealous.”
“Oh shit, sorry, Fielding. When did this happen?”
“It’s a job, Princess, nothing more.”
“Oh, so, the allowing him things, but discussing portions is just what you do with jobs now?”
“Princess…” Livingston’s tone warned the subject was off-limits.
“Fine, we helped him find things, he thought you wouldn’t let him have anything if he didn’t choose before you got back.”
He felt the weight of Livingston’s stare, and he didn’t like that it caused him to feel guilty for disappointing Livingston.
“Fielding, is this true?”
“Yes, sir.” Juvie and Princess whispered what sounded like Daddy and Livingston swatted at both of them.
“We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
Princess let out a loud sigh and laid her head back on Juvie’s shoulder. “Home, Liv, sounds so...domestic.”
“Quit sounding like Linus.”
“Bring him on a run with us this weekend. You can’t keep him cooped up in that off-grid cabin of yours.”
“I’ll think about it, but his safety is my main concern, Princess.”
“As it should be, but come on, have you seen our Crews? He’ll have a helmet on, and no one will know, they’ll just wonder about your boy wrapped around you.” Juvie’s smirk made him nervous, all this made him anxious, and he just wanted to go back to the cabin.
“Can we go home, please?”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
Juvie and Princess said their goodbyes and made a run for it in the opposite direction. Princess was grabbing a bag of something from the bottom shelf. He followed behind Livingston as the big man turned and pushed an almost overflowing cart. He tightly hugged the bags to his chest as they approached one of the checkout lanes. His gaze followed the flex and play of muscles under the black cotton of Livingston’s t-shirt as the man loaded everything onto the belt.
A small giggle drew his attention, and he darted a gaze to the cashier. The man was pretty, his lashes long and sweeping along the man’s high cheekbones. The stranger was watching him with amusement, and he didn’t like it. Was the man going to make fun of him?
“Brody, behave, your daughter is just like you.”
“Princess filled me in on her way out. He’s pretty, Livingston.”
“I hate you all. Fielding, put your stuff up here.”
“I have money.”
“What was that?” The dangerous tone was back in Livingston’s voice.
He felt as if he did something wrong but didn’t know what. “I can pay for it. I have cash.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Fielding, you won’t like the consequences.”
Livingston took a step toward him, and he practically threw the bags. It wasn’t fear, okay, some of it was fear, but it was something else. He didn’t want to disappoint Livingston. The disappointment wasn’t the same as what he received from his parents or his agent. This was something else, and he was confused, unsure and yes, a bit scared.
“Liv, you need a lighter—”
“I know what needs done.”
“If you say so.” Brody gave Livingston the total and the big man paid.
Livingston didn’t look at him as he pushed the cart toward the front exit.
“Fielding, here, a present from all of us is in the bag. Good luck.”
He frowned as he took the bag with his stuff, but it seemed heavier than it should. He just said thank you and quickened his steps to catch up with Livingston. One peek into the bag, and he stumbled right into Livingston’s back.
Strong hands wrapped completely around his upper arms and steadied him.
“Are you okay?”
“They’re making fun of me.”
“What?”
He turned his head away as he opened his bag and let Livingston see the condoms and lube inside. Livingston’s cursing made him flinch, and he started to back away.
“Hey, look at me,” Livingston ordered.
No way could he disobey. He raised his gaze to Livingston’s face and focused on the scarred side. He tightened his fingers around the bag to stop himself from stroking the uneven and discolored planes. Since the first night at the cabin, he’d fantasized about learning the textures of Livingston’s scars. He knew he wasn’t allowed to touch, much less think about the action, but it didn’t stop him. He wanted, no, needed to know.
“This is the Crews’ weird sense of humor. The partners are sometimes worse. Just put it out of your head. It seems they put something else in the bag as well.”
“They did?” He lowered his gaze, ignored the offending items and found the bag of suckers he’d thought about getting, but decided on the mini-chocolate bars instead. “I couldn’t get those. You said only two.”
“It’s a welcome to the Crew thing. Now, put your bag in back, and we have to get going, it’s a long drive home.”
“May I ask you something?”
“One question only.”
“Why do you live so far away?”
“It’s safer that way.”
It was all Livingston said as he took the plastic bag from his hands and tossed it in with the others. The big man led him to the passenger side, opened the door, helped him in and even buckled his seatbelt. He wasn’t a child. No, he didn’t have any life experience, but he was a grown man. He wished Livingston would notice, but he feared the man saw him as a child and a nuisance. The man might not even be gay. So, he was probably an idiot for his crush, yet it didn’t stop him from having one. He stayed silent as his mind twisted in chaotic scenarios of what-if and stupid dreams.
Four months from now, he’d be headed back to a life he hated and leaving the one he was coming to love at the cabin with Livingston. He’d do well to remember that his priorities were a script and making sure he didn’t get fat before going back to real life.
Five
Juvie and Princess Would Pay for This Shit
Pretty, pink and plump lips wrapped around a sucker unconsciously seductive and he wanted to feed his boy his dick. He adjusted his cock behind the zipper of his tactical pants as Fielding slipped the candy from between his pouty lips and licked them. Fielding was curled up on the couch, studying the script cuddled under his leather jacket.
His phone had gone off almost constantly in the two days since their supply run. His nieces thought they were funny. His so-called friends were asking how Daddy was doing. Worse was the package which arrived yesterday from Sin and Saint, and he hadn’t even bothered opening it. Those two brats needed more spankings from Pelter. That offending box was stowed in the back of the closet, and it would stay there until he could drop it off to Pelter and make a suggestion about further correction.
He spun back around to finish cleaning his weapon. Inhaled the scent of gun oil. The movements were practiced, ingrained into his memory until he could disassemble, clean, and reassemble his gun with his eyes closed. The familiarity of it normally cleared his mind when his thoughts were veering into dangerous territory.
Thoughts which happened more than he wanted since Fielding had come into his life and taken up residence in every corner of his home and mind. Years past since he’d thought about his kinks. They were better left forgotten. He’d denied them because he knew he couldn’t have a relationship li
ke he wanted. Anyone, even his friends would be horrified to know what was in his head.
“Are you still leaving tonight?” Fielding’s timid question had him setting the slide down.
He pivoted on his toes.
“Just for a few hours, there’s a takedown, and Linus needs all of us.”
“What happens—”
“Nothing will happen. When I leave, I’m putting this place into lockdown. I’ve already shown you where the panic room is. If something does happen, you go in and lock the door behind you. You and me are the only ones who can open it. Remember, I programmed your handprint into the system.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“No buts, baby. You’ll do as you’re told, and trust me that I know best. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.”
He finished getting ready, slipped his bail enforcement agent vest over his head and secured it. He holstered his weapon in the thigh holster and turned to find the boy staring at him. Fielding’s tongue wrapped around the bright red ball of candy. Flicking his cock was out of the question, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t necessary. The slight pain would rid him of his irritating hard on.
Fielding wasn’t even blinking. It was cute and flattering. No one looked at him like that. He couldn't remember a time he'd seen desire aimed his way.
Slipping the chain with his badge on, he waited for the boy to do something, but Fielding kept staring. The boy wasn't even breathing. He wanted to know.
“Breathe.”
A long sigh and long, blond lashes fell to half conceal beautiful blue eyes.
He kept his boots rooted to the hardwood floor to keep from rushing across the room to taste the innocence that tortured him. He’d bet what was left of his soul the boy was untouched in anyway, yet that also brought on doubts. Did Fielding’s first taste of freedom cloud his naive judgment? Would anybody do especially one as mangled and broken as him? Did the good little boy want to play with danger and run back to safety when it all ended?
