“You got a package,” his mother called from somewhere down the hall.
“Me?”
“No, the Keebler elf. Did you buy something?”
“Not unless I blacked out after spending all my money again.” He’d gone on more than one shopping spree over the years, but he couldn’t remember doing it recently.
“It’s on the kitchen table.”
Great. That meant he had to get up. Grumbling, he unstrapped his heels and rose. The box wasn’t large. It was wrapped with black paper and there was an envelope on the top. He touched the shiny material cautiously.
“It arrived about an hour ago.” His mother was behind him, her warm presence usually a safety net, now only made him nervous.
“Arrived?” Not through the mail then? His suspicions grew.
“Some delivery man, dressed in a black suit.” They looked at the package together like it was an alien.
Hop was almost too scared to touch it.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
He couldn’t. Not in front of her, because he knew who it was from and there’d be no telling what was inside. He wouldn’t be able to explain why he was receiving such gifts. She’d jump to the wrong conclusion and he’d have to tell her the truth.
He picked up the box and tucked it under his arm, casually. “Oh! You know what? It’s a costume I bought for one of our performances coming up. I totally forgot we got them delivered overnight.” He gathered his belongings and went to his room.
Sitting on his bed, he gazed at the envelope and his name scrawled on the front. Carefully, he slid the note out. The paper was thick and felt expensive, but it was the words that made his heart race.
Do not open.
And then a Skype handle: SirWiseWolf and a time: 10:00 p.m.
The instructions couldn’t be clearer. He felt heat flush his cheeks even as his palms grew damp. All day he’d struggled with the compulsion to obey Rafe’s insane orders while at the same time loving every minute of his torture. His independent mind had taken a big hit, but here he was staring at those words and dying to give in to his base nature.
He wanted to be owned, to be safe.
It pissed him off how much he needed it, but the will to fight was weakening with every text and whisper. Rafe was showering his submissive spirit with everything he’d sought but never found. Giving in felt like he’d solved the Rubik’s Cube of life. He caressed the black paper as if it held the keys to paradise.
Curiosity chewed at his self-restraint. What could be in the box?
Something dirty.
Something devilish.
Something designed to tease him in the best possible way.
Whatever it was, Hop wasn’t sure he could wait until ten. That was almost five hours away, for crying out loud. Did Rafe expect him to be patient until then?
Yes.
Of course, he did. Rafe expected Hop to follow his every command without question. Why did that send a thrill through him? Fuck. Hop tugged on his hair, eying the black paper and the oblong box again. There was no use. He couldn’t guess what was inside no matter how long he looked. He’d have to wait. He set it aside and dug inside his bag until he found his phone.
Setting up his favorite playlist, he popped his earbuds in and got out his sketchbook. It’d been weeks since he’d opened it, but the lady on the bus had inspired him.
He took a moment to flip through the pages. It was covered with dozens of original Lovette designs. Sometimes he created for the Sassy Boyz too, all glitter and sparkles in fabrics that would stretch enough to be practical for dancing.
A long time ago he’d dreamed of going to fashion design school. That fantasy died right around the time he’d landed in the hospital along with his ridiculous notion that deep down, his father cared for him.
He’d been foolish and immature.
After that night he’d grown up fast. Of course he still had dreams, still chased them—he’d auditioned for the Sassy Boyz because of one—but he wasn’t the loser who continued trying when all the evidence said there was no point. People couldn’t be trusted. At any moment, they could decide he had nothing worthwhile to offer. They’d push him away and he’d be alone.
With Taylor Swift blasting, he got out his colored pencils and went to work. Everything he’d been feeling for the past few weeks went into the first five sketches. They were cluttered and chaotic, nothing like the sleek and sophisticated designs of his idol, Prince. It was probably a good thing he’d never tried to get into design school. They would have laughed him out of the building.
* * *
For the first time since he’d opened Switch, Rafe went home early.
By ten that night, he’d eaten a home-cooked meal, had a glass of whiskey, and showered. Now he was on his bed with his laptop, scrolling through charts and emails that didn’t need his attention until the morning. It was a coping mechanism. Work gave him something to do, something to think about, when the emptiness made his mind wander.
He tried to relax, but it was useless. He checked the time, ten past ten. Rafe flicked a glance at the dark screen of his cell on the nightstand.
Hop should’ve called by now.
Patience, he reminded himself. Insecurity was so out of character he rolled his eyes at himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t waited before. He was great at it. Delayed gratification was one of his specialties. Mostly because he was usually too busy to care if he’d gotten laid or not. Although he loved sex, it had never been high on his priority list.
Until recently.
Lately all he could think about were various ways he could bury himself in Hop.
As if on cue, the familiar ring of Skype came through the speakers.
Hop’s face came up on his screen like a riot of colors. He’d already washed his face and his eyelashes were still wet and spiky. His pink-purple hair was disheveled around his shoulders and he wore an oversize My Little Pony T-shirt, which hung off one shoulder provocatively.
“Hello,” Rafe said, thankful that his voice was its usual deep timbre.
“Did I disturb you?” Hop looked nervous, which made Rafe sit up straighter.
Rafe ignored the question. There was no way he could confess that he’d been waiting for Hop’s call. “How was rehearsal?”
“Fine. Tam’s a genius, no surprise there.”
Hmm, was he upset? Jealous? There was too much self-doubt in his eyes for Rafe to let it slide. “You all are.”
A deep sigh buffeted the microphone like static. “Are we going to do this, or what?”
Hop’s audacity shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but Rafe couldn’t deny the urge to see all that bravado melt away again.
“We are,” Rafe said. “Is your door locked?”
“Of course. Mom is in her room with the TV on, she’s probably already snoring.”
“Good. Give me a tour.”
“Huh?”
“I want to see your room.”
Hop seemed stunned by Rafe’s declaration.
“Is there a problem?”
“Uh.” He jostled the computer causing Rafe’s view to go askew. “There’s nothing much to see.”
“Show me anyway.”
When Hop came back, he was looking above the camera hesitantly. The view shifted as Hop lifted the laptop. The first thing Rafe noticed was color. Each wall was a different shade of pastel. They were covered with posters and stickers and photographs and drawings. He sat forward as if being closer to the screen would allow him to see them clearer. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were fashion designs. “Did you draw those?”
Hop’s reply was a mumbled assent and the camera quickly scanned to another part of the room. A desk, a dresser, a closet door, and a full-size bed, all cluttered and messy in a way that spoke to some kind of organization only the owner would u
nderstand.
Like Hop, the place was a shower of vibrancy and warmth. Even via the virtual waves, Rafe could sense the creativity seeping from every nook and cranny.
With an impatient huff, Hop returned to the bed, strategically angling the scene so nothing interesting was shown.
“You should be an interior decorator.”
Those blue eyes rolled. “Please.”
“I’m serious, you have a way with color and pattern. It should be too loud, but it works.”
“It’s a mess. I’ve been too busy to clean. I usually keep the clutter to a minimum.”
“There was a scientific study that said disorder could be linked to genius.”
A laugh gusted from Hop before his hand whipped up to muffle it, his eyes flicked over the camera to what Rafe assumed was the door.
“I thought she was asleep.”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe I’ll have to make you moan so loud she hears you.”
Hop’s mouth parted, and the mix of longing and mortification in his gaze shot straight through the camera into Rafe’s chest.
“Did you get the package?” Rafe had gotten the delivery confirmation hours ago.
Hop glanced to the side. “What is it?”
“Why don’t you open it and find out.”
* * *
It was like Christmas morning and Hop was seven years old again. He had no idea what was under that dark paper, but it was from Rafe, and that made it more important, more extraordinary than any gift he’d ever received.
The package sat at the foot of his bed so he put the laptop to the side and scrambled up to his knees in order to reach it. He’d been anticipating this moment for hours and now it felt like he might explode with excitement.
While he was out of frame, he hit his palm on his forehead.
Get it together, idiot.
It wasn’t like he’d never gotten a present before. His wasn’t a sob story. His mother had showered him with gifts for his entire childhood. Still, this was the first time someone other than her had given him anything that didn’t come in a popper bottle or a foil packet.
“On camera,” Rafe said, his voice raspy and maybe a bit exasperated.
A smile tugged Hop’s lips. He was quickly coming to love that sound. He picked up the box and scooted back into place but left the computer where it was. From there, Rafe would be able to see him from head to knees. Hop sat cross-legged, fiddling with the paper.
“Go ahead.”
Hop tore in, revealing a shiny chrome box with a lid. He lifted it with a flurry. Nestled in the velvet lining was a butt plug, a sleek black silicone piece with spirals on the neck like a screw. The handle was slightly flared and when Hop lifted it from the box, it fit snugly in his palm. It was heavier than the plugs he’d used before and cool to the touch.
“Do you like it?”
Hop nodded, unable to tear his eyes from his newest toy. He owned two plugs. The first one he’d ever bought was too small now. The other was a joke. It’d been a spontaneous purchase one drunk and lonely night. He never used it because it was unrealistically large. But this one, this one was just right. Hop already felt how smooth and easy it’d go in and how full he’d feel once it was inserted.
Rafe’s voice deepened. “Give me a strip tease, pet.”
Hop looked at the computer screen. Rafe’s eyes were laser-focused pools of lust. They demanded Hop obey. He set the plug back in the box, turned the computer and stood. He found his cell phone and connected it to his Bluetooth speaker with the volume low enough not to disturb his mom but loud enough Rafe could hear it.
Dagny’s “Wearing Nothing” played, and Hop started the private show. He didn’t just strip, he performed. He only wore a loose T-shirt and a pair of mesh briefs, but he enticed and swayed as coyly and seductively as he could, concealing enough of his body to make it interesting.
It was an upbeat song with happy energy. Whenever he heard it, he smiled. Now was no different. Slowly he revealed more and more until he flung the shirt over his head and spun round and round in his underwear.
When the song slowed in the bridge, he slipped the briefs off to finish the song completely naked.
Hop flicked his hair out of his face and took in Rafe’s pleased grin. Hop’s heart squeezed stupidly. First Rafe’s laugh, then his grin. These things shouldn’t make Hop dumb.
But they did. One smile and all his brain cells died to be replaced with a dreamy bubblehead.
As a distraction, he turned off his speaker and shut down his phone out of frame. If this was how the night was going to start, he was in for a roller coaster.
“You move like liquid sin,” Rafe said, when Hop came back.
“Does it make you hard?”
Rafe’s laugh was strained. “Hell, yes, every damn time. Do you like the thought of me hard and watching you?”
Heat flooding his skin, Hop nodded. Like it? More like loved it. The image of Rafe watching him from high up in the shadows every night with an erection pressing against his zipper made Hop want to lick his fucking boots.
“My cock is rock solid right now.”
“Mine too.” Hop cupped himself.
Rafe groaned and his eyes closed for a moment. His chest rose and fell, as if he were gathering himself—regaining control. It was one of the hottest things Hop had ever seen. The fact that he’d brought Rafe, master of restraint, to such a point, made blood rush through his veins so fast his head spun.
When Rafe opened his eyes again, they were sharp and narrowed. A mask of mastery had settled over his features.
“Put the camera somewhere facing your bed so I can have a good view. Then get the lube from the box I sent and lie on your back.”
Oh fuck. It was time. Rafe was done fucking around, that was his serious voice. It sent Hop’s heart into a tailspin as he scrambled to obey. Within seconds he was flat on his back, knees in the air, flicking the lube cap open.
“Tell me how good it feels as you shove your new toy into your ass.”
“Yes, sir.”
He poured on the lube and began the delicate process of inserting the plug. A hiss escaped as the widest part stretched him.
“You can take it. That’s no thicker than my cock.”
“Liar.”
Rafe tsked. “Are you saying I have a small dick?”
“Like hell.”
“No?”
“I was walking funny all day because of your monster cock.” One last thrust and the toy was fully seated inside his ass. Hop’s toes curled.
“Fuck, you are gorgeous.” His deep, approving growl shot sparks through Hop’s blood. “How’s it feel?”
“Not as good as you.”
“If I was there right now, I’d make you grovel at my feet, begging to suck me. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” It came out more sigh than words, but Hop couldn’t be bothered. “I wish you were here.” His asshole clenched around the silicone lodged inside him.
He closed his eyes and imagined Rafe’s warm weight pressing him into the mattress, like last night.
“In a way, I am.”
The toy began vibrating.
Hop shouted. His body bowed upward as waves of pleasure cascaded over him. The toy was rooted against his prostate, and the sudden and repetitive oscillation set off a torrent of spasms. His heels dug into the mattress, his fists twisted in the sheets, and his neck strained as he fucked the air.
Just as fast as it had started, it stopped. Hop collapsed to the bed.
“What. The hell. Was that?” The words were forced out between bursts of air.
“Isn’t technology amazing?” Rafe waved his cell phone at the camera. “That plug is wireless and I have a handy little app that controls it.”
“Oh fuck.” Knowing Rafe had power o
ver him, even from afar, caused all Hop’s muscles to go lax. It calmed him, knowing Rafe was there. That Rafe was in control.
“Hands above your head, pet. Let’s see if I can make you come without ever touching you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
That night proved exactly how creative Rafe could be at finding ways to make Hop beg. Days later, Hop was still in a state of delirium. He’d been kept on his toes like never before, and he felt crazily triumphant. Rafe checked in every morning and every evening. Sometimes it was a simple text to wish Hop a good day or sweet dreams.
Sometimes it was more.
Hop loved both, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his feelings out of the equation.
But they hadn’t touched since last Sunday and Hop hated to admit he ached for Rafe’s hands. He needed the quick sting and bite of those smooth palms on his flesh. The pinch of Rafe’s grip invaded his dreams. And the euphoria that overwhelmed him when he gave in to Rafe’s desires kept him in a constant state of madness.
One thing he hadn’t expected when starting this fling with Rafe was the steady communication. Rafe wanted to be informed about all the seemingly unimportant details of Hop’s daily life.
Who cared what he ate for lunch or how much sleep he got? Did that matter when you were fucking someone? It never had before, but Rafe made those ordinary aspects part of the perpetual tug of war between them. An endless give and take that, when seen through Hop’s peach-colored dreams, looked remarkably like a real relationship.
Each time his brain went there, though, he forced himself to think about something—anything—else.
He couldn’t allow himself to get soft.
That road was one he was already familiar with and he’d given it up long ago. Sex was fine, but Hop couldn’t expect more.
It helped that the Boyz were busy making final tweaks to their new routine. Hop focused on rehearsing as much as he could because he needed it. The dance Tam had created was super technical. Seeing as none of the members, except for Jae, had ever been formally trained, it was amazing they’d been able to pick it up as quickly as they had. Well, everyone except for Hop. Every night after their scheduled studio time, Hop and Jae would find an empty room.
Mad & Marvelous Page 17
