Alluring Passion: A MM Contemporary Bundle

by Peter Styles

  “No,” he replied. “I normally just do patrols. I don’t usually have one specific location under my protection. The whole city is under my protection.”

  “Okay. So why am I the exception?”

  He stiffened. “Is it a problem?”

  “Not at all. I’m just curious why I warrant special treatment, but other people don’t. I mean, I think it’s a pretty fair question.”

  “Because,” his perfect posture straightened almost impossibly more, “you seem to need it.”

  I grimaced and stopped just a little too hard at a stop sign. “Why?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from edging into a growl of frustration. “Because I’m so weak and helpless?”

  “No. Of course not.” He sounded like he was stunned that I would even consider coming to that conclusion. “You’re not helpless, and you’re definitely not weak.”

  “So why, then?”

  I could feel his eyes piercing me from behind his goggles. “Because what happened here was wrong in a very deep and frightening way, and I realize that. I realize that it was probably terrifying for you and that you’re anxious about moving forward. It’s hard to know where to go after something like that. But I want you to know that you don’t need to feel that way. That’s why I’m here—to reassure you that everything will be okay.”

  “Seriously?” My throat felt tight, and the streetlights in front of me blurred with my tears. I tried to blink them away.

  “Seriously. What those bastards did was sick and scary, and you shouldn’t have to bear that burden alone.”

  “How do you know I’m alone?” I shot back, trying to be defiant in the face of my tears. Crying was so humiliating, especially after he’d already seen me in such a vulnerable state. It felt more shameful than anything the robbers could have done to me. “I have friends. I have people to support me.”

  “Of course. But do you have anyone to protect you?”

  I stayed quiet. I didn’t have an answer to that.

  My gut reaction was that yes, of course, I had someone to protect me. I had friends, after all. I had family. I had people who loved and cared for me and cherished me. I could trust Christy and Gary to do anything for me, and I could trust Leonard to help as long as it didn’t inconvenience him too much. And my parents were always just one call and a plane trip away.

  But that wasn’t what protection was. Protection felt like true safety, like having someone to watch over me and fight for me. It felt like someone keeping me safe until I was able to fight for myself, someone who taught me to stop being afraid.

  And that, really, was what I needed. I’d been afraid for long enough. It was about time someone taught me how to face my fears head on. And until then, it was nice to have someone who would have my back.

  We drove on in silence for a little bit until, abruptly, the Shadow Hunter said, “I want you to know that I believe in you.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “I believe in you,” he repeated. “I believe you can move past this. I want you to know that I’m not helping you out of any sense of pity. I think you can be strong and you can move forward. You seem to have a good heart, and that will guide you.”

  I gave him a watery smile. The way he talked reminded me of the very little I’d learned in my first jiu jitsu class, and I laughed. “Thank you, Sensei.”

  The Shadow Hunter made an odd noise that I thought could be a sigh. As if to himself, he muttered, “I’m not your sensei.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jonah seemed sheepish when he saw me walk into our practice room. “Hi,” he said awkwardly, looking up from where he was adjusting one of the mats. “How is your shoulder? Any better?”

  “Yeah, a lot, actually,” I said, rolling it slightly. “A little rest and a few hot showers went a long way. Plus, it gave me an excuse to not lift anything heavy for a little while, so that was nice.”

  He winced. “I’m still very sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’m sorry I said the ‘D’ word so much.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Referring to it as the ‘D’ word is almost worse.”

  “What? Are you going to throw me into another wall?”

  He sighed, a guilty expression on his face. “Can we just start the lesson, please?”

  “Sure. No problem.” I plopped down on the mat, grinning up at him. “How should we start this time, ‘D’ word?”

  He grimaced, but shot back with, “Maybe we should start with getting you a gi. Didn’t we go over this last time?”

  “We did. So you should have a pretty handy reference in your mind for why I haven’t bought one yet.”

  Jonah rolled his eyes. “You know, you’re much less grating over text,” he complained, but his mouth was turned up ever so slightly at the edges.

  “And you’re not such a serious weirdo,” I replied, and he chuckled.

  Jonah and I had been texting ever since the first lesson, mostly so that he could check in on my injury and make sure I was actually coming in again. At first, it seemed like he was doing it solely so that I wouldn’t sue him for hurting me, but it became friendly pretty quickly. It wasn’t like we were bosom buddies, but it was fun getting to know him.

  Christy, of course, had been delighted by this. “Ooh, what’s he like?” she’d asked, excited. “Is he hot? Is he funny? Do you think he’s nice? Oh, I hope you haven’t acted like a total moron in front of him. It seems like he might really, really like you?”

  “He must like me if he’s texting me,” I reasoned.

  She waved her hands at me as though fanning away anything I might say. “I don’t mean like that, you dummy. I mean he like likes you!”

  I felt myself blushing. “I really don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, we just met.”

  “So? You said yourself that you thought he was hot. Why couldn’t he think the same thing about you?”

  “Um, because we’re completely different species?” I accepted a swat on the arm from her before continuing. “Seriously, Christy. You didn’t see this guy. He’s Chris Evans hot. As in, insanely hot. There’s no way he looked down at my skinny ass and was like, ‘Mmm, got to get me a piece of that.’”

  “Lots of people like skinny guys! It’s a thing! Like twinks!” She frowned. “Twinks are a thing, right?”

  “You’re asking the wrong gay. I’m terrible at keeping track of that shit.”

  “We really need to start watching RuPaul’s Drag Race or something,” she muttered. “We need to learn gay stuff.”

  “I think I’ve learned all the important gay stuff that I need to know,” I told her. “And one of those few things I know is that nobody wants to fuck the dork who owns a comic-book store and once spent over a thousand dollars on a cosplay.”

  “It was a good cosplay,” she said, kindly.

  “It was. I make a mean Spider-Man,” I agreed. “But that’s not the point. Beauty and the Beast situations just don’t happen in real life.”

  “So you’re a beast now?” she teased. “What are you, skinny, or some burly monster?”

  “I’m more like that kid from those trashy old gossip magazines with the pointy ears and teeth; Bat Boy. Except I’m all grown up and have my very own diagnosable mental disorders.”

  “You must be so proud.”

  “I am, actually. That was a pretty good comparison I just came up with.”

  Christy sighed. “Just… don’t write the whole idea off, okay? I know you managed to convince yourself that you’re completely unlovable, but you’re not. Let yourself believe that this guy might actually be into you.”

  And, in spite of myself, I was starting to develop a little bit of hope that she was right.

  ***

  “So, are we starting off with meditation again?” I asked.

  “Sure.” Jonah sat across from me, then gave me a small smile. “You seem surprisingly eager to get into it. I thought you hated meditation.”

  “What can I say? Our last class opened me up to the joys of rel
axation.” That was a little bit true, anyway and, I had to say, I enjoyed being able to spend another five minutes covertly staring at Jonah’s muscles.

  When the meditation and/or peeping session was finished, I asked, “So, now what? Are you going to toss me around like a football again?”

  “Only if you ask me to,” he said, with a smile. “I figured we’d go over the actual basics this time. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

  That sentence made me blush, but I just said, “Okay.”

  “Alright.” He laid back on the mat and spread his legs. “First, get in my guard.”

  “Uh.” I blinked. I couldn’t seem to stop looking at his crotch, and I was suddenly extremely glad I was wearing jeans instead of a flimsy gi. “Sorry, what does that mean?”

  “My guard.” He sat up and frowned at me. “Didn’t we go over this last time?”

  “I don’t remember. I think I bumped my head and lost some memory.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You don’t get amnesia from one bump to the head. You’re not a Scooby Doo character. And besides, you didn’t even hit your head on anything.”

  “I don’t think you’re the one who would know that,” I said. “But either way, I don’t remember…” I gestured awkwardly to his strong, splayed legs. “Any of this from last time.”

  I thought I caught him grinning but, if I had, it was gone by the time I did a double-take. “Okay. Well, I need you to get on your knees and sit between my legs.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.”

  “Okay.” I edged forward until I was just barely between his knees.

  Jonah rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to get shy right now,” he said. He grabbed my wrists and tugged, and I nearly toppled over onto him. “Come on. We have to get close for this.”

  I begged my sweat glands not to betray me and scooched in closer, until our hips were nearly touching. He hiked his legs over my thighs and wrapped them around me, locking his ankles behind my back, and I let out a small gasp.

  He frowned. “What? Something wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said. My voice sounded a little squeaky, and I cleared my throat, trying to regain control. “I’m just not used to being in this position.” Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “I’m a bottom.”

  It was Jonah’s turn to look flustered. “Ah,” he said, but the sound was a little weak and strangled. “I see.”

  “Yeah.” I knew I was blushing. Out of desperation to get out of the awkward moment, I said, “So, where do we go from here?”

  “Right, right,” he muttered. “Well, I need you to put your hands on my chest.”

  I obeyed, placing my hands on his chest as softly as I could, avoiding pressing down as much as possible. Even so, I could feel the hard muscle through the fabric of his uniform. “Okay,” I said, “done. Now what?”

  Part of me hoped he would say, Now we just stay like this. I could have easily gotten behind that.

  Instead he said. “Okay, I’m going to teach you an arm lock from the guard position.” He frowned at my Shazam t-shirt. “This would be easier if you were dressed for jiu jitsu instead of wearing a Flash cosplay.”

  I looked at him in mock horror. “Excuse you, I am currently dressed as Captain Marvel, thank you very much. Lightning bolts aren’t exclusive to the Flash.”

  “I couldn’t possibly care less,” he said, but a ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. “Now, if you were wearing what you’re supposed to be wearing, I would be grabbing your sleeve right now. But instead, I’m going to grab your arm.” He locked one large hand around my forearm. “Then, I’m going to grab your elbow.” He put a hand behind my elbow. He planted his foot on my hip and thrusted up, and I’m sure the motion made me go even redder. “Now, I’m going to bring my hips up, then push at your shoulder—” he raised his other leg, scooping it up under my arm and shoving my torso to the side— “and then comes the kind of scary part.”

  “What?” I asked nervously, but he hooked his other leg behind my head, pushing at the back of my neck. “Ah! What the fuck?”

  “It’s okay!” he reassured me. “It’s all okay. But now, I’m going to squeeze my knees together—” he demonstrated—“and this is going to lock your arm between my legs.”

  He was right—my entire right arm lay uselessly across his chest. I tried to flail it, but it only wiggled pathetically against his chest and stomach. “Huh.”

  “Yeah. This way, you have someone completely locked in with you. I’m holding both your arms, keeping you from doing anything with them. Make sense?”

  “It does.”

  “Try to escape,” he challenged me.

  I did, but I could hardly move; all I could really do was slip my legs out from under me but, even then, I was just kicking futilely at the mat. Without my knees as leverage though, I slipped forward and I became intensely aware of just how close my face was to his ass. I managed to get a good look at its sculpted curve before I managed to say, “I think I’ve got it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I think I’m good on this move.”

  He released me and I sat back, rolling my neck to get rid of the lingering discomfort of the hold. He grinned up at me. “You want to do it to me?”

  “What, seriously?”

  “Yeah. What, did you think that this whole thing was just going to be me hurting you?”

  “I mean, judging by last time, yeah.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know you only get to use that against me for so long.”

  I laid down on the ground with a huff. “I don’t see why that’s the case,” I teased, mock-serious. “I don’t know why I pay to endure this kind of treatment.”

  “You’re not even paying for this class!” he pointed out, but he was laughing.

  I splayed my legs open and he scooted up against me, and my brain decided to remind me that it was his crotch that was pressed right up against my ass. I realized I was holding my breath when he said, “Harris, you have to put your legs over my hips.”

  “I do?” I asked, stupidly.

  “Yes.” He picked up my knees, shaking my legs for emphasis. “These are some of your best tools. You need to use them to their full effect.”

  My entire body tingled, and I thought of all the other interesting parts of him I could wrap my legs around. “Right,” I said. I put my legs around his waist and, with difficulty, locked them behind his back. His chest was wide enough to make it a challenge.

  “Okay.” He put his hands on my chest. “Remember what we did earlier?”

  “Maybe,” I said, concentrating on the feeling of his big, rough, warm hands.

  “I thought you said you got it.”

  “What, a guy can’t ask for a reminder? What kind of teacher are you?”

  “Fair enough.” He grabbed one of my hands in his, and I abruptly realized that it had been years since someone had actually held my hand. He placed it on his right sleeve. “Okay, grab here.”

  I obeyed, then put my other hand behind his elbow. “Like this, right?”

  “Yeah!” He grinned, and I felt my entire body flush with pride. “Then put your foot up on my hip and thrust up.”

  I was halfway through following the instructions when he said “Thrust,” and I nearly slipped in surprise. “Right.” I shoved hard with my right leg, pushing his body to the side, then wrapped my other leg up and around his neck.

  He let out a yelp of surprise, then laughed. “Holy shit, you got it!”

  “I did?” I asked. I looked around my legs at his grinning face. “For real?”

  “Yeah! You officially have me in a lock.”

  “Woohoo,” I said, with an eye roll. I dropped my legs and sat back up.

  Jonah frowned at me. “You don’t seem excited,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I brushed uncomfortably at imaginary dust on my jeans. “It’s just… it’s not a big deal, is it?”

  “What do you mean?”


  “I don’t know.” I pushed a stray curl away from my face. “Like, listen, this is all well and good, but it’s not like it really matters. It’s not like I can actually fight someone or hold them down. Even though I had you in a lock, you probably could have killed me in eight seconds if you wanted to.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all,” he explained, quietly. “You saw for yourself what being in a lock is like. Sure, I could theoretically have gotten out of it, but I’ve also been doing this for years and years. I know the maneuvers. But the average person would still be trapped.”

  I raised a skeptical eyebrow and his face hardened with resolve. “Lay back,” he instructed. “Let’s do it again?”

  “Why?” I asked, feeling strangely tired.

  “Because. Just… trust me.”

  I flopped back on the mat and half-heartedly went through the motions again. When I wrapped my leg around his neck, Jonah said, “Okay. Now that I’m locked in, I’m going to try to get away like a layperson my size would, alright? No jiu jitsu moves or anything, just plain old street fighting.”

  “Fine.” I subconsciously tightened my grip.

  He wriggled for a moment. He nearly lifted my entire body off the mat, which only made me more curious about what kind of abs he was hiding under that stupid gi, but he didn’t manage to escape. A couple of minutes in, he stopped, panting with the effort. “See? I couldn’t get out.” He tapped my stomach gently and I released him. He collapsed back on his heels while I sat up.

  “Wait, seriously?” I looked him up and down, trying to take stock of him. He was tall, and he had to have about a hundred pounds on me, and yet he hadn’t been able to free himself from my grip. It seemed impossible. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was saying it just to make me feel better.

  “You saw it yourself,” he said. “Didn’t you feel me struggling?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  “And you really think I would fake that?”

  Thinking about it, I realized how counterintuitive that would have been for him to do and I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Wow,” I murmured, impressed with myself. “Well, then. Thanks.”