Straight Shooter (Rear Entrance Video, #3)

by Heidi Belleau

  Liam? All-knowing, all-powerful Liam? Always prepared, always in control Liam? Liam wasn’t okay?

  But though Austin couldn’t logically believe it, his heart still squeezed. Looking at Liam, seeing that expression, hurt. He wanted to make it better, but not in that urge-to-serve way that might have him ducking under the covers to suck the guy’s dick. This was something else, something not sexual at all, a purely emotional feeling. He didn’t want Liam to hurt. He cared too much to see him like this. And that thought was fucking terrifying. He couldn’t bring himself to tear out of Liam’s arms, though, not when Liam seemed so vulnerable. “I don’t understand,” he said instead.

  “I know you don’t, buddy. You can’t. That’s okay.”

  Except it wasn’t fucking okay. Austin didn’t really want it to be okay. Not as much as he wanted to understand Liam. Wanted to know Liam.

  Liam heaved a sigh. “It was just . . . You looked so beautiful tonight. You’ve changed so much in the last couple months. Just— God, the way you give yourself to me now.” With Liam staring into his eyes like that, Austin couldn’t possibly summon up those old feelings of shame and disgust at being called a girl word like beautiful. Liam could call him whatever he liked, if he was gonna look at him like that. “But the problem is, I want to take more. More, and more, and more.”

  Austin furrowed his brow in confusion. “So . . . take it? Aren’t you the Dom here? Aren’t you in charge?” The thought that Liam might answer no to any of those questions filled Austin with a quick, powerful surge of panic, which quickly transformed itself into anger. “If you want something, take it!” he shouted, and gave both of Liam’s shoulders a hard shove.

  Liam’s hands shot up to clamp Austin’s wrists. Austin couldn’t help it; he yelped. “What kind of man do you think I am, Austin? An animal? A rapist, taking things from you that you don’t want to give?” Finally he must have noticed his vice grip on Austin, because he made a disgusted face and threw Austin’s arms down. “I am the Dom here. I am in charge,” he insisted, but then all the anger left his voice. “And being in charge means controlling myself—my own urges—too. Maybe more so than I ever try to control you.” He petted Austin’s hair. Leaned in to press their foreheads together briefly, the way he always did when he was overcome with one of those emotions he refused to tell Austin about.

  But Austin wasn’t accepting that self-sacrificing bullshit speech, not now, not even if it kind of made him feel all squishy inside to know Liam cared about him and respected him that much. “And what if I want to give them to you, huh? Did you ever think to ask? You just assume I’m gonna say no?”

  “You said you were straight,” Liam said softly, regretfully. “That usually comes with certain limits, and I respect that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You never take your dick out with straight guys, right? I thought we kinda crossed the bridge when I got on my knees and sucked you off.”

  Liam didn’t reply to Austin right away, and that was when it dawned on him.

  Yes, Austin had given Liam a blowjob. Plenty of times, now. And he liked it. Liked the way it made him shudder with equal parts pleasure and revulsion. Liked how submissive it made him feel, how owned and controlled and converted. Liked that when the tears fell, he could blame it on all the choking and gagging he was doing.

  So yeah, they’d definitely crossed that bridge . . . but Austin had been the one to take the first step, hadn’t he? That night on the couch, that was all Austin. Liam had straight-up said it: “You needed to ask for it.” And Austin had.

  They’d crossed that bridge, but there was still another one, wasn’t there? Something Austin hadn’t given to Liam yet. Something Austin hadn’t asked for.

  Liam had brought him here to his bed. Naked. Spooned around him from behind.

  All of that, and Austin hadn’t thought to ask. Not until now.

  “Fuck me. Please.” Austin’s face burned. “That’s what you want to take from me, right? You want to claim my ass?”

  That was when he felt it: Liam’s erection lengthening against his hip. Liam’s silent reply.

  Yes. I want that.

  Austin puffed up his chest, bolstered. “You can do me raw, if you want. I get tested as a part of the team health exams. And you get tested to do your videos, right?”

  Liam nodded mutely.

  “So go ahead and take what you want from me, Coach. Come inside me. B-breed me.” Austin licked his lips, then rolled to one side, onto his back. His legs fell open. “Please. I need it. Please.”

  Those were the magic words. Not please—please was easy if you didn’t think too hard, anybody could say please—but I need it. Liam loved giving Austin what he needed. Loved hearing Austin admit to what he needed. After fighting so hard and so long, to just come right out and say it—but only for Liam—must have driven him crazy with power.

  “What do you need?” Liam growled, and suddenly he was on top of Austin, pinning his hands to the bed, straddling Austin’s hips with his big monster of a dick trailing streaks of pre-cum over Austin’s abs.

  “I need you to fuck me,” Austin replied, and it was so easy to say, so, so easy. To give this thing he’d been holding back, to let go of the final line he’d drawn around himself, the final fence he’d built between gay and straight.

  With Liam.

  For Liam.

  Liam put extra weight on Austin’s pinned wrists. “And what else?”

  “Come inside me.”

  “Nngh. No. The other one.”

  Austin’s stomach dropped, his fingers flexing in abortive fight-or-flight, but he said it again. “Breed me.”

  “That’s right, buddy. And where do I breed you?”

  No question where this was leading. Liam lowered himself, nipping a trail down Austin’s neck to his shoulder. The pleasure of that was enough to distract Austin from the humiliating words his mouth was forming: “Breed me in my boypussy.”

  “Mmmm.” Liam lapped at Austin’s skin with the flat of his tongue, wetting him from collarbone to jaw. The sensation—the wetness of it—made him shudder. “Love making you say dirty things like that, kiddo. Love the way you blush and look so ashamed, but you do it anyway. Love that it gives you a little boner.” His hand closed—hard—around Austin’s dick.

  Austin bucked into Liam’s palm, gritting his teeth. “Come on, man. I know you like cutting me down, but there’s nothing little about this.” It was true. Austin had done his fair share of covert comparing in locker rooms, and he knew he wasn’t remotely bad off in that department.

  “I could make it little, if I wanted,” Liam threatened with a show of teeth.

  As far as threats went, it didn’t make much sense, but Austin still shivered with want. He wanted to be reduced to nothing, brought down, made to beg and scrape and crawl. He’d wear a leash. He’d let Liam write SLUT on his skin in permanent marker. Whatever. He didn’t care. “Please,” he begged, again, not sure what he was begging for.

  “You really want it, huh?” Liam teased, slowly jerking Austin’s dick. “Really want my big cock inside you raw?”

  Austin shut his eyes. “Yes, fuck. Yes.” He squirmed beneath Liam’s weight, trying to fuck into his hand.

  “Prove it.” Liam lifted himself off Austin completely, let go of his dick, let the cold air in the room hit him. He sat up on his knees, and when Austin opened his eyes again, Liam was looming over him in the darkness, watching him pant and twist in confusion for a minute before leaning forward to pick up something off the shelf built into his headboard. He put the bottle into Austin’s hand, closed Austin’s fingers around it. Austin recognized it by feel: lube. “Go on, fuck that boypussy with your fingers for me, show me how much you want my dick in there instead. Do it well enough and maybe I might be good to you, all right?”

  Austin nodded feverishly, popping the cap on the lube and letting it drizzle over his fingers. He’d seen Liam do this enough times by now, he knew what to do.

  Didn’t stop his hands
from shaking, though.

  At least Liam liked that, seeing his fear and shame and desperate need to please. It was all there for him, laid bare in the way Austin trembled, the way he so slowly reached between his legs and petted his hole, afraid to penetrate himself.

  But wanting it.

  So, so badly.

  So he fingered himself. Pushed past the pain, past the tightness, past all the defences of his uncooperative muscles. Fucked his own ass with two fingers like he’d been told to. He stretched himself the same way Liam sometimes did to prepare him for a plug, or to tease him into begging to be milked. Tried to look in Liam’s eyes the whole time he did it, tried to make it good for him even if his face burned and his heart and lungs felt like somebody had dropped a fridge on his chest.

  The whole time, Liam seemed . . . different. He didn’t have that same patient hunger in his expression. Didn’t seem to get that same lazy satisfaction out of just watching Austin. In fact, he looked almost impatient. Or was that desperation? Because now he was grabbing Austin roughly by the wrist and yanking Austin’s fingers out of his hole. “All right, buddy, I think that’s enough of that. Points for slutty enthusiasm, but we don’t want you getting too loose for me now, do we?” The words themselves were the usual disaffected smugness, but Liam’s tone was anything but. He sounded breathy. A little shaken.

  Austin reached up and cupped his cheek, solemnly shaking his head and never breaking eye contact the entire time.

  Liam winced. “God,” he rasped, and fell forward on top of Austin’s body. Pressed his face to Austin’s neck, hot steamy breath damp on Austin’s skin. “Austin— Buddy—”

  Austin didn’t know what was happening now, didn’t know what was going through Liam’s mind, but fuck, he liked it, was driven to go along with it even if it scared him on one level, too. And fuck, Liam was thrusting against him, their cocks nudging together then glancing off each other clumsily. Liam was out of control. Out. Of. Control. That was what this was—what it meant. Liam was always in control, was always strict and authoritative and distant, and now he wasn’t anymore. He was losing it. Shuddering himself to pieces. Baring himself to Austin in a way he’d never done before.

  Because of Austin.

  Because of Austin.

  Austin moaned and arched, lifting both legs and wrapping them around Liam’s hips like the whore he was.

  Liam didn’t make him beg. Not this time.

  As soon as Austin’s ankles hooked together in the small of Liam’s back, he felt the bump and nudge of Liam’s cockhead as it notched against his slippery hole. “Gonna take you nice and slow, buddy,” he said, and it was simultaneously a promise and a threat; yes, Liam would be gentle and careful, but he was still claiming what was his. Thinking of it that way did something to Austin, something he couldn’t name or explain. He felt emotionally touched and physically consumed, and it was powerful, so powerful, so close to something beyond any of this, maybe even on the edge of love.

  Ownership. That was what it was. Not love, of course not love. But he knew the minute he felt the unbearable pressure, knew the minute Liam shushed his pained cry and kept on pushing, tearing into him and claiming him with every joined inch.

  Liam owned him.

  The thought of it made him fly, made him open up, made him so pliable and receptive, and every inch he gave of himself, Liam took, until Austin was bathed in sweat at the pure exertion of it all.

  He felt so full. Felt like there wasn’t a single part of him, now, that Liam hadn’t claimed. Filled and surrounded at the same time. Liam was all around him. Felt like he was in the air Austin breathed. Felt like without him, he couldn’t breathe again.

  He clung to Liam’s back. Rolled his hips up, taking another inch.

  This time, Liam was the one who cried out. A broken, masculine sound that felt like a fist to Austin’s heart.

  A fist that squeezed, wringing a single word out of Austin’s deepest, darkest, most secret places: “Master.”

  Liam froze. Lifted himself up on his arms, their sticky chests breaking free from one another. He stared down into Austin’s face, demanded, “What did you just say?”

  Austin flinched back against the mattress, face flushing. “I—”

  That was when it happened. Liam’s lips parted, and his eyes went all heavy-lidded, and he leaned down, and despite his pinned wrists Austin still arched up and—

  Turned his head.

  The kiss died before it had a chance to live. Austin had killed it, and he’d never felt so relieved and gutted at the same time. No time to consider the feeling, though, because suddenly Liam’s rough hand had caught him by the hinge of his jaw, turning and posing his head so that he faced Liam again, mouth pinched cruelly open.

  He was too stunned to close his eyes, which meant he saw the ugly, raw fury in Liam’s—no, Puck’s eyes when he drew his head back and spat down into Austin’s mouth.

  Austin spluttered and gagged, his whole body flexing and clenching in sheer revulsion. This wasn’t good humiliation, wasn’t the kind of casual cruelty that made him fly.

  It made him feel like shit.

  “Luongo,” he begged, trying to push Liam off him, needing Liam off of him right the fuck now, and at least, for as angry and animalistic as Liam seemed, that word still held power.

  A horrified expression overtook Liam’s features, and he wrenched back, cock ripping free of Austin’s convulsing body. Pulled away from Austin all together. Tripped out of bed and stumbled backward to his bedroom door. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, turned the knob behind himself, and fell into the hallway.

  The door slammed closed behind him, and Austin was alone.

  When Austin finally managed to shop shaking long enough to get out of bed, Liam still hadn’t returned. The bedroom door was still closed, the condo quiet. Austin couldn’t stay in here forever, though. Didn’t want to, really. The bed reeked of sex, and Austin didn’t see himself staying the night, not after how fucking disastrously things had gone.

  If this had been Austin and a girl, if a girl had told him no, effectively kicking him out of his own bed? He’d expect her to get the fuck out and make her own way home.

  Well, Austin wasn’t about to act like he had less balls than a fucking puck bunny. He squared his shoulders and strode for Liam’s bedroom door. Yanked it open like he fucking owned it.

  And found a neat, folded pile of his clothes on the hallway floor at his feet.

  He nearly fell over in relief. He hadn’t realized, before now, how humiliating in a bad way it would have been to slink nude into Liam’s front hall to retrieve his clothes, then silently and shamefully get dressed before slipping out the door.

  At least this way, he didn’t have to do the walk of shame naked.

  He wasn’t about to fucking thank Liam for that, though, he decided as he yanked his clothes back on. Felt absurd to be getting dressed at all, honestly, like a different person had taken the clothes off in the first place, so why should Austin be putting them back on now?

  Well, like it or not, he fucking was. This was all him. Nobody else to blame. Not possession, not sleepwalking, not Liam.

  Time to get this over with. He stormed out of Liam’s room, down the hallway, and into the living room, where he found . . .

  Lalita, sitting on the couch in a modest sweater dress and knee-high boots. She looked up from her smartphone and gave Austin a tight, apologetic smile. “Liam said you needed a ride home,” she said. She didn’t ask him why. Nothing in her tone suggested she knew, but then, maybe she was being discreet.

  Probably a good skill for a dominatrix to have.

  “No, thanks,” Austin said, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I can grab a bus.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped without venom. “I know I can’t force you to do anything, but come on, now. It’s a free ride. Hell, I’ll throw in a cup of coffee from Starbucks to sweeten the deal.”

  Austin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He real
ly didn’t feel like standing out in the cold night air waiting for a bus, not after everything that had gone down. What if it was raining? He already felt like shit. He wanted to get home and crawl into bed.

  “If it helps, you can think of it as a favour from his jilted ex instead of one from the man himself?” Now she had a mischievous smile, and Austin couldn’t help smiling back.

  Even if the expression combined with his mindset made him feel a little unhinged. “Fuck it, fine. Not like this night isn’t crazy enough.”

  “Good boy,” she said, and rose gracefully from her seat on the couch.

  Liam didn’t come out to say good-bye, not that Austin expected him to. He and Lalita left the apartment, locked up, and headed for the elevator. They spent the ride down to the parking garage in silence.

  They were silent when they got into Lalita’s older model BMW.

  They were silent when they drove out into the rainy, glistening Vancouver night.

  Silent as they stood in Starbucks lineup.

  “Want anything?” Lalita asked after she’d ordered her black Americano.

  Austin shook his head.

  He thought they’d pass the rest of the drive like that, with Lalita sipping her coffee and Austin staring sullenly at his reflection in the passenger-side window, but a few minutes later, their bubble of silence burst.

  “I’m going to come right out and say it,” Lalita said, her voice clipped. And when Austin looked over, she didn’t look harried at all. She kept her eyes on the road, executing a smooth turn. “Liam asked me to drive you home tonight. He wanted to make sure you got taken care of. Can’t say I’m too fond of taking over someone else’s aftercare duties, but I’m not about to leave you out on the line, either. The bastard probably knows that, too.” She clucked in disapproval. “He told me to tell you he’s sorry for losing his temper with you, too, and that he’s sorry for not driving you home himself, but he thought you’d like a little space.”

  Space, was it? Did Liam think Austin was some kind of moody teenager? Or the kind of guy who couldn’t handle the humiliation of sex going sideways?