Bad Boyfriend

by K.A. Mitchell

  “I am so sorry,” Quinn whispered.

  Eli returned the embrace for a second and then shoved him away. “You fucking well ought to be.”

  Quinn’s arms felt useless at his sides. He needed to touch Eli again. Make him understand with their bodies, with what had made everything so right between them, what had gotten so fucked up when Quinn tried to force words on to it. “I am. I know I was a little overbearing.”

  “You think?” Eli pushed the hair off his face.

  “A lot overbearing.”

  “An asshole,” Eli challenged.

  “Yeah. An asshole.” Quinn felt the corner of his mouth lift in a smile he couldn’t help. Because of Eli. Quinn stared, filling his eyes with proof that maybe it wasn’t too late. Eli wore the same clothes, his eyes a little bleary. One arm was rigid. At the end of it, Eli’s fingers were wrapped so tightly around his phone his knuckles showed white.

  “Expecting an important call?” Quinn asked.

  Eli glanced at his hand as if he’d forgotten the phone was there. “No.” He held up the phone for a second, staring at it. “I was going to make one. But I couldn’t seem to push the right buttons. Because—”

  Eli looked away, and Quinn cupped the hand holding the phone, gently loosening the fingers around the plastic and tucking the phone into Eli’s jacket pocket.

  “Yeah?” Quinn waited, but Eli shook his head.

  “Come home with me,” Quinn said, hand still gripping Eli’s.

  “Why?” Eli met Quinn’s gaze, and Quinn’s body ached from the pain in Eli’s eyes.

  “I love you.”

  Eli flung Quinn’s hand away. “I let myself be happy. And you hurt me. I let you hurt me.”

  Quinn knew better than to expect easy. But he didn’t want easy. He wanted Eli. “I was afraid you’d hurt me first. I want you in my life. And all that bullshit about taking it too fast and Alyssa was because I love you and I was afraid you didn’t love me back.”

  “I do. I think.”

  “You think?” Quinn froze.

  “When I was too scared to call you—scared that it was too fucked up and you didn’t want me—” Eli reached in his pocket to touch his phone, then kept both his hands tucked away, shoulders hunched. “I always thought love would be different. One day I’d see him and just like that, I’d know.”

  “I did.” Quinn put his hand on Eli’s face. His skin was cool from the wind, but beneath that sensation was the tingle of electricity under his palm, the sense of rightness from their skin together. “You winked at me in the bar and that was it. Hooked.”

  Eli turned his face toward Quinn’s hand then pulled away. “Then how could you let me leave?”

  “Let you?”

  “You were going to drive me. Fucking drive me out of your life.”

  “You wanted to go.”

  Eli shook his head and didn’t stop. “If you love me—”

  Quinn grabbed him and kissed him, cupping his face to stop the shaking. “I do. Eli, you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. And even if you end up breaking my heart, I won’t mind, if I get to have you in my life for awhile.”

  “No,” Eli said, but he was kissing Quinn back, arms tight around him. “If you love someone, you stop them from leaving.”

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  Eli held the back of Quinn’s head. “Stop me. Every. Single. Time.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eli woke with his tackle all twisted under him. Which had happened for the best possible reason. The man he loved had worn Eli out on his birthday. Eli shifted and then rolled onto his back. As soon as his still-hot, tingling ass made contact with the sheet, he remembered why he’d been sleeping on his belly. Having a hot toppy boyfriend who knew how much you loved getting spanked was a big plus on a birthday, Eli decided. But it definitely left…a mark.

  He cracked an eye open to look at the new leather paddle on the nightstand. Quinn’s last birthday present before bed. The double layer of leather not only stung, it left a deeper heat under the skin. Eli loved it.

  The computer with the good digital imagery software had been nice too. But as soon as he read the outside of the box, Eli went hunting for the deposit slip showing the check he’d gotten from Time and told Quinn to take it back. Quinn cited a restocking fee, his saved-up service pay, and the fact that he occasionally liked to use his own damned laptop when he got home sometimes, so Eli had celebrated his twenty-third birthday with two awesome presents.

  His ass rubbing on the sheets as he shifted around was starting to get him hard again. Technically, he had thirty minutes of birthday left. It ought to be worth a blowjob.

  Quinn’s eyes opened. “Can’t get comfortable?” He followed it up with an evil grin.

  “A little too comfortable.” Eli shoved his dick against Quinn’s hip.

  “God, you’re going to kill me, boy.”

  Eli’s stomach dropped at the same time that his dick sprang to full hard life. He loved when Quinn used that gruff, growly voice. Loved him. Yeah. How had Quinn put it? Hooked. Eli wouldn’t say he hadn’t looked at other guys since they met, but he hadn’t really wanted to fuck any of them. Even thinking of his favorite celebrity crush tossing him onto the bed didn’t do it for him anymore.

  Quinn licked his way down Eli’s chest, then paused to look up. “You know, I don’t think having a hot twenty-three-year-old boyfriend is really going to fly as an excuse when I stumble into work tomorrow with my eyes still closed.”

  “They’re just jealous.” Eli tucked a curl of Quinn’s hair around a finger.

  Although he left Eli dizzy and panting from coming his brains out, Quinn didn’t go right to sleep after. He lay on top of Eli, stroking a hand down his side.

  Eli wondered if he should offer reciprocation, but Quinn’s dick was silky soft against Eli’s thigh. They’d already fucked three times.

  “Thanksgiving is next week.” Quinn tightened his hold on Eli before Eli realized he was jerking away.

  “No. No fucking way.”

  “You don’t have to go,” Quinn said mildly.

  “And you do?”

  “I want to. Aside from some asshole who shall be nameless, I enjoy it.”

  “You go right ahead and enjoy it. I’m going to hang out with Nate and Kellan.”

  Eli hadn’t expected him and Quinn to get along perfectly just because they worked things out. Eli knew he tended to take an all-or-nothing approach to things, and Quinn liked to look at all the angles. There was no reason for them to be together every minute, but Eli still felt guilty about abandoning Quinn on a holiday. Not that Eli got sentimental about Thanksgiving. If Eli had a job—a steady one—he’d have been perfectly happy to work every Thanksgiving, but they’d done the photo shoot at the food kitchen last week in order to get it in yesterday’s paper.

  Christmas was different. If Quinn still felt the need to play nice with the Laurents, Eli could handle it for Christmas. After all, if Quinn hadn’t needed a date to help him get through the baptism—nope. Eli wasn’t going there.

  At least Christmas had the potential for presents and naughtiness with Santa hats and candy canes and filling stockings. Thanksgiving really pushed the whole happy hetero family shit. Nate got bent about the holiday for other reasons, calling it “The Whitewashing of the Genocide of Native Americans,” so Eli figured he could hang there with them and bitch most of the day.

  “What?” Nate said when Eli called.

  “Why do you think I want something?”

  “Because now that you’re happily tucked away with your Navy man, you only ever call when you want something.”

  “That’s the first time you haven’t made a crack about his age. You’re losing your touch, Nathan.” Nate had done a piece about gay veterans, and Quinn had steered him to some resources. There appeared to be a truce.

  “What do you want, Elijah?”

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Why?”

&n
bsp; “Because it’s Thanksgiving.” Eli waited for the usual rant.

  “And? You’ve never given a crap before.”

  It sounded like a brush-off. “Do you guys have plans?”

  Nate huffed a sigh. “Kind of. Except my plan is with the First National Bank of Candace.”

  “Are you always going to call Kellan’s mom that?”

  “Since she gave him that car, yes.” When Nate got all superior like that, Eli was so glad things hadn’t worked out for them.

  “Aww. He lets you drive it. Wait, why do you have plans with Kellan’s mom?” Eli asked.

  “We’re trying to set up a surprise meeting with Kellan and his dad. Just the three of them at a restaurant. We’re hoping no ambulance will be required.”

  If Nate had been standing there, Eli would have smacked him. “What the fuck for? Kellan hates his dad.”

  “It’s complicated, Eli. He’s still his dad. And…he’s not a total dick.”

  Eli sighed. “He gave like a hundred thousand dollars to stop marriage equality in Maryland.”

  “Okay, yes, he’s a total dick, but he’s Kellan’s dad. I gotta go. Kellan’s getting out of the shower.” Nate’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Okay. Hey. After your rendezvous, do you think you could give me a ride somewhere?”

  “That should be good for reaching minimum safe distance from fallout.”

  “Oh, I see worse things ahead. Better buy yourself a Fleshlight or your wrist will be so bad from jacking off you won’t be able to type.”

  Nate’s whispered “Fuck,” conjured the image of him pinching the bridge of his nose. Ha. For once Nate hadn’t thought something all the way through.

  Even though Nate wouldn’t see it, Eli grinned. “Better you than me.”

  Although Eli had slept in, he’d been downstairs in time to see Quinn leave the house wearing one of his less-attractive sweaters and slacks, a dish of yams in brown sugar and butter in one hand. Eli had found a dark plum corduroy blazer in his favorite secondhand shop, so he could at least look dressed up, even if he showed up empty-handed. When he ran outside to meet Nate, Eli knew it was a good thing he hadn’t bothered to make something. Nate straddled his greasy scooter.

  Nate shrugged. “Kellan took the car to the restaurant. I had to take a cab home.”

  “How were things when they saw each other?”

  “Sullen, but quiet. At least now I know what to write for this week’s column: Why You Should Marry an Orphan.”

  Nate handed him the way-too-big spare helmet, and Eli climbed on behind Nate, hugging his waist. On the freezing ride over to Woodlawn, Eli thought about Nate’s future column. He and Quinn were both as good as orphans. Eli might despise the idea of being dependent on the approval of a “normal” family, but if Quinn thought he needed it, Eli would suffer through it with him. Plus, this way he could keep an eye on that bastard Peter.

  Nate throttled back in front of the house number Eli had given him. Claire and Roger Laurent’s 2182 Meadowview Drive was a red-bricked split-level in a neighborhood of red-bricked bungalows and Cape Cods and split levels, just like Quinn’s, just like Peter’s. Eli suspected wherever Dennis and Paula lived it was more of the same.

  “You going to get back okay?” Nate asked as he relocked the helmet on the back.

  Eli pointed to Quinn’s car at the end of the driveway. “He’s still here. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. I’m going down to see my folks in Catonsville.”

  So much for Nate’s orphan-loving cynicism. Eli waved as Nate spluttered off.

  For once, Eli was hoping to make the opposite of a grand entrance, so rather than ring the bell, he knocked.

  Alyssa, now with purple streaks in her blonde hair, yanked him inside. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you showed up. It’s been really weird.”

  “About the apartment thing?”

  “What, that? No.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I figured you guys were working it out. Sometimes Quinn just needs to get over himself, right?”

  It occurred to Eli that he had a nice untapped source of information here. She did seem to know Quinn fairly well, and unlike the rest of her family, didn’t avoid actually talking about things.

  “No,” Alyssa went on, dragging Eli up four stairs to what looked like a formal sitting room. It was empty, but she still looked around like she was checking for eavesdroppers. “Peter showed up late, without Chrissy and Gabe. He says the baby’s running a fever and that Chrissy didn’t want to take him out. Then he said she was taking him over to see her parents for awhile.”

  “Which?”

  “Exactly. The story’s changed three times. And Quinn was already here when Peter finally showed up and there was this look. I mean I know my brother’s a dick, but that was the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen on him. The temperature dropped twenty degrees. Dennis tried to talk to him—”

  “Who?”

  “Peter. But he keeps slinking away. He’s loading up containers now. I swear, he’s taking enough food for ten people, but says he can’t stay for dessert. Something is going on.”

  The whole thing about desserts and containers had logical leaps Eli couldn’t follow, but the rest of Alyssa’s whispered drama update was clear. The shit had hit the fan. Eli closed his eyes. “Great.”

  Despite the plush, wall-to-wall carpet, Eli heard footsteps behind them.

  “Hey.” Quinn came up and gave him a quick side hug. “I didn’t expect you. I remember the words no fucking way.” He murmured the last part in Eli’s ear.

  “And miss the excitement?” Eli arched his brows. Maybe Quinn could provide some commentary.

  “You guys are so cute.” She headed toward the arch that led into a dining room. “I’m going to tell Mom you’re here.”

  Claire appeared around another weird angle. The whole split-level thing was starting to freak Eli out. He’d rather have secret passages in a haunted mansion.

  “Oh, Eli. I hope you brought your camera. If only Chrissy and the baby were here.”

  Somewhere a door slammed with enough force to shake the house.

  Claire went on as if the sound hadn’t happened. “Did you eat, dear? Come into the kitchen. I haven’t even put everything away yet. Quinn and Alyssa can set the table for dessert.”

  Eli wondered if he were being hauled in for another secret meeting, but Paula and Faith were at the sink washing dishes. Running a monologue about the family history and origins of every spoonful, Claire loaded a dish with food and handed it to him.

  “The other boys are in the living room watching a game.” Claire ushered him out as quickly as she had drawn him in.

  Eli had only the two previous encounters to use for judgment, but he had to agree with Alyssa. Things were really weird. And it wasn’t just all the stairs he kept getting lost on.

  Eli had made a wrong turn and found himself in the sitting room again, when Dennis cornered him. “C’mere. I want to show you something.”

  Dennis took Eli’s plate and placed it on a coffee table before leading him up another set of stairs to a bedroom where he closed the door.

  Weird had just taken a detour into uncomfortable.

  “Um. I think—” Eli started for the door, but Dennis blocked it.

  “The last time I saw you. At Peter’s house. You said something about Peter.”

  Eli couldn’t figure out what Dennis was talking about.

  Dennis folded his arms. “My birthday. You went on your little Quinn-is-gay rant out by his car. You said something about Peter then.”

  “That he’s a selfish prick?”

  “You said something about fallout. I remember that.”

  Eli bit back a So why the fuck ask me, and shrugged. “I guess. Something like that. I don’t remember exactly what.”

  “Were you just taking Quinn’s side?”

  “I’m always going to take Quinn’s side.” Eli straightened up. Screw it. All these muffled footsteps and staircases and secrets. “But I was
talking about the fact that no matter what gender he claims to want to be with, your brother is a cheating whore.”

  Dennis’s blue eyes widened.

  “A man whore. He hit on me.”

  Dennis rolled his eyes.

  It was Eli’s turn to fold his arms. “I’ll have you know most gay guys find me hot.”

  Dennis looked like he was trying to figure out why.

  “Fine,” Eli snapped. “Don’t believe me. Believe this. He was at Grand Central. I don’t know if you know what that is—”

  “I’m a cop. I know.”

  “Well, he wasn’t there for the drink specials. He keeps it up, your friends in vice will be finding him sucking guys off in Carroll Park.”

  Lips pressed in a thin line, Dennis yanked open the bedroom door.

  “You asked,” Eli pointed out, but Dennis was gone.

  Eli went downstairs and offered to handle the second wave of dishes. With enthusiasm, Faith tossed him her dishrag and went to beg her grandmother to let her make the whipped cream. Quinn came in and leaned on the counter.

  “What?” Eli muttered self-consciously. That stare was too sexy.

  Quinn stretched around him and rubbed something off one of the dishes. “I hate not being able to touch you all the time,” he murmured in Eli’s ear.

  Eli was about to toss the dish back in the sink and jump the man, but he remembered these people were important to Quinn. Eli could behave for another hour.

  Shouts sounded from outside, at first indistinguishable but then over the whirr of Faith’s beaters, he heard the tail end of “…fucking truth for once in your life.”

  The beaters clattered onto the table, spraying drops of sweetened airy cream.

  “I wonder what that’s about?” Claire came over to Faith. “Let me help you, sweetie.” She picked the hand mixer up, apparently oblivious to the battle sounds. Faith ran to her mother.

  No matter how much Claire tried to ignore it, the sounds were very obviously two men fighting in Claire’s backyard. Since the last Eli had seen of Roger he was sound asleep in a recliner, it was Dennis and Peter.