Mad & Marvelous

by Elizabeth Varlet

  “Hop,” Rafe said, then paused to swallow. “I’ll know if you disobey me.”

  Hop didn’t doubt him for a second. “I won’t.”

  “Jesus, you’re flawless. Where the hell did you learn exactly how to twist me up?”

  Hop’s heart actually fucking rolled over and he didn’t bother hiding his joy when he smiled at Rafe. “I guess I’m a natural.”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but Rafe didn’t laugh. There was only sincerity in his eyes. “You’ve never been trained?”

  “Uh, in what? The erotic arts of kinkiness?” He shifted away.

  Rafe sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Yes, or more specifically submissiveness.”

  That word, that label, at once exactly right and terribly, terribly wrong. The very definition of it went against everything he believed of himself. A submissive was ready to conform to the authority or will of others. They were obedient and passive.

  That was not him.

  He was strong. He was smart and capable.

  He was a fucking Sassy Boy for fuck’s sake.

  Meek was not a word people would use to describe him. His friends called him ballsy and controversial and he embraced those descriptions wholeheartedly.

  Submissive? Not so much.

  The part of him he’d tried so hard to kill yearned to be acknowledged, but how could he allow such a thing in real life? He was empowered, damn it. Not weak. He was bold and confident—hell, just watch him on stage.

  He couldn’t be a submissive.

  But he knew that was a lie, deep down, he’d known all along.

  “There’s really training?” He’d read of such things, but the idea had scared him.

  Rafe’s eyes closed briefly and he held himself so still, as if he were fighting a monster deep inside. “Christ,” he said. “You’re amazing.”

  Then those deep, dark eyes opened and pinned Hop as surely as darts and it was everything Hop had always wanted.

  It couldn’t last. There was history between them that wouldn’t be ignored forever.

  But for now...

  For now, he was where he was supposed to be.

  It didn’t change anything, not really. As revelations went, Hop’s was quiet, if life changing.

  Rafe stood, tucked his soft cock away and helped Hop to his feet.

  “Lean on me,” he said when Hop’s knees shook.

  With his hands braced on Rafe’s solid shoulders, Hop rested his weight and waited for the flood of tingles to pass as blood raced to his unused limbs. Rafe’s generous palms went directly to his ass, the skin there still sensitive, but no longer burning.

  “Your ass is magnificent,” Rafe said, massaging it. “Have I told you that yet?”

  Hop tucked his face up into Rafe’s neck, his scent was strong there, his skin dewy from exertion. “Thank you.”

  “The first time I saw it I was hooked, such an exquisite apple bottom, and cotton-candy coated too.” He combed the long strands of Hop’s pink hair. “I wanted to take a bite right then and there.”

  Hop released an embarrassing noise from his throat and pushed closer; his cock was so hard it hurt. Like, not even metaphorically, it was painful. And there was nothing he could do about it, not even rub himself on Rafe because the bastard stepped away with an evil grin.

  “I thought you were a girl at the time,” Rafe continued as if Hop hadn’t just tried to hump his leg, totally unconcerned with Hop’s maddening arousal, which simply made it more provocative in his wicked little mind.

  He pulled Hop’s clothes up, the lace of his underpants heavenly against his bruised flesh and the bite of denim a dark temptation. Rafe reached between them, took Hop’s cock in hand and gave it a rough stroke.

  It took a moment for Rafe’s words to penetrate the lust fog that clouded his brain. When they finally did, he asked, “You’re not gay?”

  Rafe met his eyes and the humor reflected back at him made him feel small. Hop didn’t like it.

  “That’s so black and white coming from the most colorful person I’ve ever met.”

  Rattled down to his core, Hop studied his toes in the peep-toe sunshine heels. They were painted turquoise because, why not?

  Rafe was right. Sexuality wasn’t just this or that. He should know better. All the layers in between were what made his life a kaleidoscope of possibility. Why should he think it was any different for Rafe? There was so much he didn’t know about the man. Rafe’s preferences were just the beginning. Hop wanted to know more so badly it was stupid.

  Still, the censure in Rafe’s tone shamed him.

  “Look at me, I like seeing into your eyes. They tell me more than your voice ever could.”

  Yeah, that was what he was afraid of. Now, more than ever before, Hop had something to hide.

  He whipped his head to the side hard enough to shake off Rafe’s grip. His legs still weren’t steady, and all at once it was too much.

  Way too fucking much. He’d never been so exposed. It was as if Rafe had magnifying glasses trained on his every weakness. With just a few words he could tear them open and make Hop bleed.

  As much as he wanted to pour everything he had at Rafe’s feet, he knew it was suicide.

  “No,” he said.

  And it landed in the room like a bomb.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The atmosphere of the room shifted so quickly it left Rafe stunned.

  In the beginning, when he first got into the scene, he’d had a few subs use their safeword. But that was back before he’d learned to read their body language, their breathing and their eyes.

  He was wiser now. He understood limits and how to ride the boundaries of pleasure/pain to make them beg for more. Every ounce of his experience told him he hadn’t crossed any lines here. Up until a second ago, Hop had been open and malleable.

  And yet, Hop refused a command. The unexpected shock of it left Rafe at a loss. He didn’t enjoy losing his faculties.

  All those times before, the safeword had never felt like a gut punch.

  It did now.

  He rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest as he took a step away from Hop. It was only years of practice that kept him from reaching out when his instinct screamed at him to bind Hop any way he could.

  He wanted to say sorry, but for what? He had no idea what had gone wrong and was too proud to admit it. So he just stood there, heart like a lead pendulum ticking down the moments of silence.

  Hop retreated—all his magnetic openness shuttered in an instant. His spine stiffened and he avoided eye contact.

  It was as if they’d gone back in time. Hop reverted to his cocky stance, all temper and sarcasm. There was none of the softness Rafe had found, none of the vulnerability.

  The absence of their new connection shouldn’t hurt so much. He definitely shouldn’t feel so troubled by the loss of something that had never really been his in the first place.

  Rafe combed a hand through his hair. “I’ll, uh, I’ll drive you home then.” His voice was off. It had zero confidence.

  Hop didn’t seem to notice. “No,” Hop said, zipping up his pants and sounding as lost as Rafe felt.

  “It’s cold as fuck outside and it’s late.”

  Hop backed away toward the door, still not meeting Rafe’s eyes. “No.” Like that was all there was to it.

  “Hop...”

  Another step. “No.”

  Fuck, Rafe despised that word. He threw his hands into the air. “What the hell? Is that all you can say?”

  Cold blue eyes finally met his. “No,” Hop said. The corner of his lips tipped mockingly.

  Rafe’s fist tightened. He’d liked it a whole lot better when Hop had whispered, yes, sir. But there was also something about his defiance that fired Rafe’s blood. The challenge of it made him wonder how much
sweeter it’d be when he bent Hop to his will again.

  Because he would.

  There was no doubt in his mind.

  “Funny,” Rafe said without any humor.

  Hop looked away, body tense and distant.

  “At least let me help you clean up before you go.”

  Hop rubbed at his mouth, smearing his lipstick. There was a box of tissues on the end table near him and he pulled one out to wipe the stain. It hardly helped at all.

  He still looked ravaged.

  “Is it bad?”

  Yes. “No.” Rafe closed the distance between them, ignoring Hop’s eye roll. He swiped two tissues. “Let me help, pet.”

  “Don’t.” Hop jerked his head away just as Rafe reached out.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not your pet.” Hop spun on his heels and crossed to the door. “I’m not your anything.”

  Then he swept the door open and slammed it behind him.

  * * *

  Hop unlocked the apartment door as quietly as he could, but it still echoed like a gunshot in the quiet of early dawn. He pushed it open, not bothering to flip on any lights. He’d already caught a glimpse of himself in the dressing room mirror as he’d left the club. He didn’t want another.

  But as soon as he shut and locked the door behind him, the kitchen light came on.

  “Are you just getting in?” His mother stood in the archway lit from behind in an ominous silhouette.

  “Yeah, sorry if I woke you.” Hop ducked his head and did his best to hide in the depths of his hoodie and scarf.

  He should have known it wouldn’t work. Marla Lovette had eagle eyes, especially when it came to her only child. He heard her shocked gasp before he registered that she’d moved enough to allow the light to spill across his face.

  “Oh God, what happened to you?” Then her hands were on him, pushing the hood away, tilting his head this way and that.

  Hop pulled his head out of her hands. “Nothing.” Okay, that sounded a little too defensive. She was not the one he was mad at. He needed to remember that.

  “Don’t tell me nothing, when you look like you’ve been crying. There are bruises on your neck and your lips are...oh.” All of a sudden her hands dropped and she stepped away.

  Hop rubbed his hands over his face, partially to hide the tremors but also to cover the evidence.

  “I...uh...” She sounded weary and scared. Scared for him. Because of him. “Again?”

  “I’m tired, Mom.” He did not have it in him just then to try and convince her he was fine. Not this time, when he was still so shaken. He headed toward the hall, but she grabbed his wrist as he passed.

  “Honey, please.”

  “Mom.” Hop sighed. “It’s not the same.”

  “How can you lie so easily? You think, after twenty-five years, I can’t tell the difference? I raised you.” She beat her chest to emphasize her point and it just about killed him.

  He took both of her hands in his. “I’ve told you this before. It’s consensual. Can’t you just trust that I’ve got it under control?”

  Her eyes, so similar to his own, wandered his face, no doubt cataloging each and every streak and smudge and bruise. “I want to.”

  “But?”

  “I just keep picturing you in that hospital bed, pale and lifeless—the wounds and the blood.”

  “Fuck, Mom.” He hugged her. “I’m so sorry I put you through that, but it was seven years ago. I’ve changed. You can see that right?”

  He felt her nod against his chest.

  “I’m being careful.” Her arms tightened around his waist. “I’m sorry I keep letting you down.”

  “You haven’t.”

  “I have, a lot, but I’m not running anymore.” Except he had twice now. When things had gotten too real, he’d fled.

  With a resigned sigh, she said, “I guess that’s all I can ask, then. I raised you to be yourself and live life your own way.”

  “I know.”

  She squeezed his hand. “The world is going to judge you no matter what you do, so you might as well be happy.”

  He smiled at the reminder of the motto they’d lived by from the moment he’d come out to her in tears, ridiculously worried that she’d reject him even though he’d known deep down it would never happen.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Me too, honey.”

  Ten minutes later, damp from the shower and exhausted, he tumbled into bed.

  The ding of an incoming text made him grumble but as addicted to his phone as he was, he reached out blindly and peered at the screen.

  See you tomorrow.

  A threat. And a promise.

  Hop spent the rest of the night counting down the hours until he’d see Rafe again.

  Chapter Twenty

  New York was hit with a blizzard that night. By the time Hop left for work, there were six inches of snow on the sidewalk. He huddled under the green awning glaring at the fluffy flakes of misery. It was coming down so thick he’d be a snowman before he reached the shop. A horn drew his attention to the silver car parked along the road.

  The passenger window rolled down. Rafe sat behind the wheel, all pressed cotton and shine, not a hair out of place and looking like he’d gotten the best night’s sleep of his life. Hop bit down on a surge of resentment.

  “Get in.”

  Hop fought the urge to comply. “I’m going to work.”

  “I know. I’ll give you a lift.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Get in the car, Hop. I’ve got coffee.” He held up a large cardboard to-go cup.

  Damn it. He told himself it was the bribe that won him over, but he knew it’d mostly been the need to give in to Rafe. He slid into the warm car. Okay, maybe it had been the promise of not freezing to death on his way to work. The excuse made him feel better, less like a needy freak.

  “Mocha with an extra shot or vanilla caffe latte?” Rafe asked, holding up both offerings.

  “Vanilla.”

  Rafe pressed the cup into his gloved hands. “Hmm, interesting.”

  “What is?” Hop sipped.

  Rafe shook his head, started the car, and pulled out into the slow-moving traffic. “How’d you sleep?” There was a hint of wicked amusement in his voice.

  Hop glanced out the window. “Fine.”

  This, of course, was a total lie. He hadn’t slept at all. How could he? As exhausted as he’d been, his stupid traitorous cock hadn’t let him relax. He’d gotten hard in the shower remembering the taste of Rafe, so damn tempted to jerk off but simply unable to do so because he’d been told not to.

  How fucked up was that?

  He’d left the office in a huff and still he’d been helpless to disobey Rafe. It didn’t matter what his mind said, his body didn’t speak in logical terms. To it, he belonged to Rafe now.

  Then he’d gotten that text. Three simple words, yet they’d held so much power over him.

  “I dreamed about fucking you.”

  Hop had been taking another sip of his coffee and nearly choked.

  “Sorry, you okay?” Rafe flicked his gaze to Hop.

  He was still coughing so he just glared.

  “They were really great dreams though.” Those dark eyes heated as Rafe’s tongue swept along his bottom lip.

  Suddenly, it was too hot in the damn car. Hop placed his coffee in the cup holder and tugged off his gloves. It didn’t help so he continued with his hat and scarf. He would not think about Rafe’s dreams. He would not wonder about them. He would not.

  Yeah right.

  All he could see now were their naked bodies coming together again and again, sweaty and sticky and glowing, which was exactly what Rafe had intended, no doubt. He needed to get the upper hand or else he might sponta
neously combust.

  “Couldn’t have been that great if you were still able to walk this morning.”

  Rafe’s smile was greedy. “You saying you’d be better than my fantasies?”

  “Look at me, there’s no way your teeny imagination could live up to all this fabulousness.” Hop gestured to himself then flicked his hair over his shoulder.

  Rafe laughed. Once again, it rolled through Hop like thunder and lightning, sparking every nerve and making him quake. Fucking hell. He darted his gaze out the window before Rafe realized how turned on he’d gotten just because he’d fucking laughed.

  “I can’t wait to find out.”

  “Don’t go holding your breath.”

  “Hop.” So much admonishment in a single syllable.

  Hop tucked his hands under his legs and stayed silent.

  “Are you still denying our chemistry?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to answer so he squeezed his eyes closed and willed the car to move faster.

  “You can’t convince me you didn’t enjoy it. You are not that good an actor.” Despite his words, Rafe sounded insecure.

  Hop bit his cheek, then whispered, “It’s not that.”

  “Then what? And don’t lie to me.”

  Don’t lie to him. Even without the command, Hop didn’t want to lie. Lies had never brought him anything but pain and he was through with them, but the full truth left him too vulnerable. It gave Rafe power to hurt him.

  “It was just too much too fast.” Truth. “I’ve hated you for years and then it was...” So perfect. The best night of my life. Soul deep and scary as hell.

  “Yeah.” Rafe exhaled. “I get it. It’s weird for me too.”

  Weird wasn’t the word Hop would have used. It wasn’t even close, which just went to show how far apart they’d been last night, even though it had felt like they’d been reformed into a single lifeform.

  He’d known it was too good to be true. Still, he hummed his agreement because explaining how deeply he’d been moved would mean cracking open his insides and letting Rafe dig around in them.