Broken Rules

by Michaela Grey

  Confusion flickered across Fox’s face. “I don’t—why can’t I remember?” Gooseflesh pebbled his arms, and he hunched his shoulders, uncertainty in his bearing.

  Sanyam held out a hand, but Fox shied away. Sanyam dropped it, keeping his expression neutral.

  “Memory loss during sub space is fairly common, especially for newcomers to scening. As you get more comfortable with relinquishing control, you’ll begin to remember more of what we did.”

  Fox seemed to suddenly realize he was naked and wrapped his arms around his rib cage, looking for his clothes.

  “Behind you,” Sanyam said.

  Fox turned and saw his neatly folded clothes, nearly falling in his haste to stand up and get them on. He was wobbly like a newborn foal, and Sanyam tensed, discreetly scooting forward on the couch, ready to catch him.

  “Are you all right to drive?” he asked.

  Fox dragged his pants on, flinching as he buttoned them. “I’m fine,” he said, but he avoided eye contact as he reached for his shirt.

  “What about tomorrow?” Sanyam persisted. “Do you have anyone to stay with you?”

  Fox hesitated. “Cricket—no, she has class all day. It’s not a problem.”

  “Don’t you have anyone who can come over and help you through the drop?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Fox snapped. “How many times do you want me to say it?”

  “Part of being a good Dom is making sure my subs are cared for,” Sanyam said evenly. “Be unpleasant all you want; it won’t stop me from helping you through this.”

  Fox snarled, lip curling. “Fine. I’ll call Colby—will that make you happy?”

  “Ecstatic,” Sanyam said. “Do it right now.”

  Fox glared. “It’s too late now. He’s asleep.”

  “First thing in the morning, then,” Sanyam said, implacable.

  “Are you like this with every sub?” Fox demanded. “Do you go around to every single one’s house and make them breakfast and rub arnica cream onto their ass after you’ve scened with them? Do you insist they eat their vegetables and kiss them stupid and make them want more, or am I special?”

  Sanyam stood up so quickly that Fox stumbled back a step, clearly startled. Sanyam closed the gap between them and caught Fox’s shoulders, shoving him back until he hit the wall.

  Sanyam pinned him there, and Fox caught his breath. He grabbed Sanyam’s wrists, fingers loose and his eyes dark, lips parting.

  “Never doubt that you are special, Fox,” Sanyam whispered.

  Fox’s mouth twisted, but Sanyam lowered his head and kissed him before he could speak, and Fox sagged in his hands as he opened for Sanyam’s tongue.

  Sanyam let go, and Fox made a quiet noise of protest. But Sanyam had turned away, straightening his shirt.

  “Call Colby first thing,” he said. He bent to pick up the condom wrappers and began tidying the room, half his attention on Fox’s motionless form.

  After a minute, Fox shook himself and grabbed his shoes. After stepping into them, he hesitated, but finally he dragged the door open, and it slammed behind him.

  Sanyam straightened, gazing after him. “Kiss you stupid?”

  HE PUSHED his door open and set his groceries on the counter with a relieved sigh, then rolled his shoulders. He heard Polly hit the floor and the rapid patter of her feet as she hurried to greet him, and he smiled.

  “Hello, my darling,” Sanyam said as she skidded around the corner, squeaking happily at the sight of him.

  He bent and picked her up, and Polly snuggled in under his chin, kneading his sweater with her front paws.

  “Fox and I had our first real scene today,” he told her as he put groceries away one-handed. “He puts up a good front, and I even bought it at first, but he’s actually terrified underneath. Of what, I’m not sure yet. Perhaps just life in general.”

  Polly mrrped encouragingly, and Sanyam set her down to pick up the milk and put it in the fridge.

  “The scene was intense,” Sanyam said, straightening. “He’s going to drop badly tomorrow. But he’ll be all right. I told him to call his friend. He said he would.”

  Polly wrapped her tail around her dainty feet.

  “He’ll be fine,” Sanyam said.

  Polly blinked crystal-blue eyes and yawned, displaying sharp white teeth.

  Sanyam sighed. “I know.”

  Chapter Nine

  STERLING SLEPT late, his dreams filled with anger, bitter voices raised in disappointment and betrayal.

  When he woke, his phone told him it was close to 10:00 a.m., and he had no missed calls or texts.

  Sterling got out of bed and dragged himself to the bathroom, still limping.

  In the shower, he braced an elbow on the glass and stared unseeingly out over the cityscape.

  He didn’t feel angry, unlike the last drop. He was just… empty.

  He stood under the spray until the water ran cold and finally sighed and stepped out. He couldn’t be bothered to do more than pull on a pair of soft pants before he shuffled back to the bedroom. Astrid was still off, so he wouldn’t have food waiting, not that he could eat.

  Facedown on the bed, he realized he hadn’t called Colby.

  Sterling rolled onto his side and groped for the phone.

  It rang until Colby’s voicemail picked up. “If you’re calling, you must have a good reason. Make me want it, baby.”

  Too much effort to roll his eyes. The phone beeped, and Sterling groped for words.

  “Hey…. Col…. Could you—call me back at some point? It’s not a big deal, I just—” Feeling suddenly stupid, he hung up and dropped the phone on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. He’d try again later. Maybe.

  He dropped into a fitful doze and was jerked out of it an hour later by someone ringing the doorbell.

  Sterling lifted his head, blinking sleep from his eyes. A quick look at his phone confirmed Colby hadn’t called him back.

  The bell rang again, and Sterling heaved a sigh and pulled himself to his feet.

  He wasn’t really surprised to see Sanyam standing there, paper bag in one hand and coffee in the other. Sterling moved back silently, and Sanyam stepped inside. He put the food down and turned to look into Sterling’s face, eyes concerned.

  “I left a message,” Sterling said. “He didn’t—I did try.”

  Sanyam smiled and brought a hand up to thumb Sterling’s dimple. “I’m sure you did. Have you eaten?”

  Sterling forced himself not to lean into Sanyam’s warmth and shook his head, hugging himself.

  “You don’t take care of yourself,” Sanyam said. “You need to eat, Fox, or you’ll just feel worse.”

  Sterling couldn’t find the energy to come up with a snappy retort.

  “Sit,” Sanyam said. “I brought you breakfast.”

  Sterling shuffled to the table and sank into a chair, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable.

  Sanyam set the bags on the table and pulled out several croissants filled with ham and eggs.

  “Perhaps not the healthiest,” he said, sitting opposite. “But right now you need calories more than you need health food.”

  Sterling picked at the croissant in front of him.

  “Eat, Fox,” Sanyam said, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

  Sterling managed a halfhearted glare as he picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

  “I don’t know how you like your coffee,” Sanyam said, “so I got one black and one with cream and sugar. I’ll drink whichever you don’t.”

  Sterling chewed and swallowed, lifting a shoulder. “I don’t care.”

  Sanyam leveled a look at him.

  “Black,” Sterling sighed. He shifted his weight again, wincing.

  “When you’re done with breakfast, I’ll put some more cream on,” Sanyam said.

  “Why are you here?” Sterling immediately regretted the words, but it was too late.

  Sanyam lifted a shoulder. “I… had a feeling you’d need me.�
��

  “You didn’t trust me to call Colby.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Sanyam said. He leaned forward and held Sterling’s eyes. “I came prepared to give Colby the food I’d brought and leave. But I thought—there was a possibility he wouldn’t be here. And you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  Sterling broke first, looking down at his lap.

  They ate in silence, and Sterling watched Sanyam out of the corner of his eye as Sanyam took neat, even bites. His hair was perfectly brushed, curls in place, short beard only serving to emphasize the strength of his jaw. Emptiness yawned within him, and Sterling put his food down.

  “You’re not done,” Sanyam observed.

  “I’m—I can’t,” Sterling said. He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m going to lie down.”

  Sanyam stood too. “Let me put the food away, and I’ll be right there.”

  Sterling just headed for the bedroom, footsteps slow and dragging on his hardwood floors. He crawled into his bed and pulled a pillow to his chest, staring at the wall.

  After a minute, the bed dipped.

  “I’m going to pull your pants down,” Sanyam said, his voice quiet.

  Sterling said nothing, closing his eyes as Sanyam gently worked the pants down over Sterling’s thighs. The cream was warm this time, like he’d held it in his hand before applying it to Sterling’s skin, but Sterling didn’t know how to thank him.

  So he lay still and let the tears come as the emptiness rolled over him in a great, crashing wave, disgust with himself following hard on its heels. Men don’t cry. Stop bawling, you useless, pathetic waste of oxygen.

  Sanyam worked the cream in thoroughly, fingers deft and gentle. Then he leaned across Sterling to set the tube on the bedside table and sat back to pull his pants into place.

  “Oh, Fox,” he said, wiping a tear from Sterling’s cheek. “It’s okay. This is normal. You’ll feel better soon.”

  Sterling couldn’t figure out how to tell him that this was how he always felt, that he just usually hid it better, and Sanyam cupped his face.

  “Will you do me a favor?” he asked quietly.

  Sterling looked at him.

  “Would you let me hold you?”

  Sterling pulled away. “Don’t—patronize me,” he said, hating how thick his voice was.

  “I’m not,” Sanyam said, his voice still quiet and his eyes serious. “I’m a very tactile person, and you would be helping me out a lot if you’d let me hold you, even if just for a few minutes.”

  “Bullshit,” Sterling said. He hid his face in his elbow, but Sanyam didn’t stir.

  “I haven’t had a partner in nearly three years,” Sanyam said. “My boyfriend and I broke up because he had so much internalized homophobia he couldn’t handle it anymore. Last I heard, his parents had found him a sweet Indian girl. I’m… lonely, Fox.”

  “You’re a Dom,” Sterling said. “You have sex every night.”

  “Not the same thing,” Sanyam said. He moved around and sat back against the wall, his thigh warm and solid near Sterling’s face. “Besides, we don’t have sex nearly as often as you might think.”

  Sterling lowered his elbow and considered Sanyam’s leg in front of him. Sanyam didn’t move, his head against the wall and his almond-shaped eyes closed.

  Sterling chewed on his lip and finally scooted closer, until his face was pressed against Sanyam’s hip. He felt Sanyam settle one big hand on his bare back, warm and comforting.

  “This means nothing,” Sterling said.

  “Of course not,” Sanyam agreed gravely. “Thank you, Fox.”

  Sterling closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  WHEN HE woke up, he was alone in the bed. He sat up and stretched, his stomach growling, and realized there was a note on the pillow beside him.

  It was a phone number.

  Had errands to run. Text me when you wake up, and hydrate, please.

  Sterling scowled.

  Not thirsty, he sent.

  Sanyam’s reply was almost immediate. Don’t care. Drink something. How are you feeling?

  Sterling rolled off the bed. He landed on his good foot and padded for the bathroom. It was midafternoon, he realized—he’d slept through lunch, and it was time to get ready for his parents’ dinner. He felt oddly good, like he’d had a weeklong nap, energized and ready to wreak havoc.

  I’m fine, he texted after he was done in the bathroom. He hesitated, deliberating on what to say. “When will I see you?” seemed too needy, and he had no idea how to actually thank Sanyam for what he’d done.

  Sanyam took the dilemma out of his hands. Have a good dinner with your family. Tell Cricket I said hello, and her blue vase is on a shelf below my favorite window.

  Sterling headed for the kitchen to get a bottle of water and then back into the bedroom to get ready.

  He went with the olive green shirt again, although he chose pants that were more conservative—black linen, with knife-sharp creases.

  Sterling surveyed himself in the mirror. The shirt hid the marks Sanyam had sucked into his skin, a secret testament to the side of Sterling his parents knew nothing about.

  He stepped into his shoes and grabbed his wallet and phone.

  His parents lived in one of the wealthier districts of Vancouver, huge houses hidden by tasteful walls, trees lining all the streets.

  Sterling pulled into the driveway and punched in the code. He waited for the gate to slide back in its stately majesty, and then rolled up the gravel drive and parked in front of the white-columned house.

  Humphrey was waiting for him, turned out as perfectly as ever. He bowed slightly as Sterling climbed the steps to the front door.

  “Good evening, Mr. Reynard.”

  “Hump, you’ve been this family’s butler since I was three,” Sterling said, tossing the keys to him. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Fox?”

  Humphrey’s nostrils flared. “Yes, Mr. Reynard. Your parents are in the drawing room.”

  Sterling sighed and headed that direction.

  Alice Reynard, tall and willowy and lovely, rose to greet him. Her dark hair was swept up in a sleek chignon, cheekbones prominent under her porcelain skin, and the cheek she offered for Sterling to kiss was rose-petal smooth.

  “Hello, darling,” she said. “How have you been?”

  “Can’t complain,” Sterling said. “How are the charities?”

  “Oh, they’re wonderful,” Alice said. “We’re doing a golf tournament next month, would you like to play a round for a good cause?”

  “Outdoors,” Sterling pointed out. “Couldn’t pay me enough. Hi, Dad.”

  His father had his nose buried in a newspaper, and he just grunted something.

  Sterling glanced around the room as Humphrey brought in a tray of drinks. “Where are Cricket and Dorian?”

  “On their way,” Alice said.

  Yates slapped his newspaper down. “Goddamn stupid liberals are ruining this country. Can’t even read a paper in peace without getting slapped in the face with their stupid political bullshit.”

  “Hi, Dad,” Sterling repeated.

  “Hmm?” Yates glanced up. “Oh. Sterling. What are you doing here?”

  “Family dinner, mandated appearance,” Sterling said. “I don’t want to be cut out of the will, so….” He spread his arms. “Ta-da.”

  Alice made an irritated noise. “Behave, Sterling.”

  Sterling opened his mouth to point out that he never behaved, that in fact he took great pride in how regularly he misbehaved, but Yates spoke first.

  “How much are you costing me this month?”

  Sterling flinched. “What are you talking about?”

  Yates scoffed disbelievingly. “What, no antics for me to try to keep out of the press? No hookers or blow I have to cover up?”

  “Yates,” Alice hissed.

  Yates ignored her. “I’m already paying for Cricket’s and Dorian’s educations, and Cricket’s after me t
o buy her a Land Rover of her own so she can go to her stupid estate sales, and of course Dorian’s hounding me for ‘extracurricular’ classes, so let’s have it, how much am I looking at this time?”

  “Nothing, Dad, Jesus! I haven’t done anything wrong, I swear!”

  Yates looked at him. “Are you still doing those stupid puzzles instead of going out and finding a real job?”

  Sterling turned his flinch this time into a step backward. “They—help me focus.”

  The twins arrived before Yates could speak again. Cricket breezed in first, looking chic in her green minidress and tights, hair loose and flowing down to her shoulders. Dorian was on her heels, firmly clasping the hand of someone who could only be Tatum.

  Sterling blinked, tilting his head. Was Tatum a girl or a boy? He honestly couldn’t tell. They were dressed in black from head to toe, big brown eyes ringed in eyeliner and a silver hoop in one delicate nostril, with soft, messy brown curls that reached their shoulders.

  “Mom, Dad,” Dorian said, his voice too loud, “this is Tatum. We’re dating.”

  Yates looked as confused as Sterling felt, but Alice spoke first.

  “We’ve heard a lot about you, Tatum,” she said as she held out her hand. “I’m Alice, Dorian’s mother. I’m sure you’ve met Cricket, and this is our oldest, Sterling. We’re very glad to have you.”

  “Good to see Dorian finally got himself a girlfriend!” Yates said, shaking Tatum’s hand in turn. “We were beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him!” His laugh invited Tatum to share the joke, but they just looked flatly at him.

  “I’m not a girl,” they said, voice calm and brooking no argument.

  “You’re… a guy?” Yates said.

  “No,” Tatum said pleasantly. They looked around the drawing room. “You have a lot of books. May I look at them?”

  “Of course,” Yates said. He glanced at Dorian, who was watching Tatum and refused to make eye contact with either of his parents. Yates cleared his throat, obviously determined to be a good host. “So, Tatum, how do you know Dorian?”

  Tatum was trailing a finger along the shelf, gamine chin tilted up as they inspected the books above their head. They glanced over their shoulder at Dorian. “You can tell him, baby.”