Chapter 10
TEN
RYKER
Liam looks extremely confused when he sees me on the bed with several takeout containers on a tray.
He has a towel draped over his shoulders, but other than that, he’s naked. The bruising on his neck is a beautiful red, sure to turn blue and purple by tomorrow.
I keep eating the Chinese noodles I’d bought. “Your TV doesn’t work,” I say, pointing to the large flat screen on the wall across the bed.
He glances at it, then looks back at me. “Um. Unless it stopped working in the last twenty-four hours, it’s fine.” He crosses over, his steps careful, and selects a remote from the bedside table. “It also has every streaming service known to mankind.”
“Ah.” I wait while he turns it on and hits a few buttons to access the streaming menu.
I mostly hadn’t bothered to try more than one remote.
Liam lays down next to me, his head close to my hip. “Where’s the food from?” he asks. “I don’t recognize the name.”
I use the chopsticks to pick up a few noodles and hold them out to Liam. “It’s the Chinese place directly across from your condo building. It’s literally right there. You’ve never seen it?”
He shrugs. “If it doesn’t have a rating of at least a 4.5, I don’t order from them,” he says, leaning in to let me feed him. He chews and swallows, then considers the container. “All right, maybe I should make one exception. That’s pretty good.”
“The kitchen was closing, but I told them I’d take whatever was already prepared.” I eat a bit myself. “So these are probably leftovers that have been sitting for a while.”
Liam makes a face. “Why do you have to ruin everything?” he complains. “Like the motel water and whatever. Just let me believe it’s gourmet.”
I grin. “Maybe they’re even leftovers from other people’s meals. Whatever they didn’t finish off their plates.”
“Not hungry anymore, somehow,” he huffs. “Guess I’ll starve.”
“Well, if you get sick, you can probably sue the place for unsanitary practices.” I keep eating, because I’m not picky—and I know that the food is from a dinner buffet that was winding down. “So, Liam Cohen. Are you regularly this stupid, or was this a special occasion?”
“Yes,” he deadpans.
I eye him again. His neck looks beautiful like this, but the red bruising isn’t that vivid. He’d be prettier with cuts across his body, dripping down in beautiful patterns.
It’s always different. No two bodies bleed the same. The unique shapes divert the blood in different ways, creating a new flow even if I do similar cuts.
I wish I could take photos.
I wish I could see Liam like that.
“You’re going to stop with the idiocy,” I say.
“Assuming I don’t get caught from the last time,” he says cheerfully, too cheerfully. “I mean, wow, when you talk about stupid, that was like… textbook levels of stupid.”
I flick his forehead, and he scrunches up his nose.
“You’re going to stop fucking other men.” I meet his eyes. “No more straight Jeremys, no more Reid Bertrands, no more Rebecca’s boyfriends.”
Liam studies my expression. “I require sex at least once a week,” he says. “Medical condition. No cure, only symptom management. If you don’t want me to actually die…” He shrugs. “Guess you’ll just have to stop by more often. Or at all.”
I grin at him. “Funny, that. I was going to say I have a job up north and I’d be back in town in about two weeks. But if you can’t keep it in your pants that long…”
He pretends to consider, but I know I have him. “Okay, maybe I can stretch it to two weeks. But I’ll really be in dire straits. Or needing desperate straights. You know, one or the other.”
“It’s no skin off my nose.” I finish my container of noodles and set it aside. “I prefer fucking without condoms. But if you can’t be trusted, there’s no point.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Okay, fine. I’m always safe, but I’ll even get tested. You too. I don’t know if you’re fucking random brats while you’re on your jobs.”
“Nah. I mostly don’t fuck.” I take the remote and pull up a crime documentary. “But sure, I’ll get a piece of paper for you.”
“You… don’t fuck?” Liam asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “What do you do to entertain yourself then? Don’t you get bored?”
“Yeah, I’d get bored fucking,” I say. “Most people don’t enjoy getting choked and having their balls slapped around.”
“To be fair, I didn’t actually like the ball slapping,” he says. “But all right, maybe it does get a little boring with all the vanilla assholes I let fuck me.” His eyes flick to the TV, then back to me. “So I take it you really don’t fuck the people you kill.”
Cheeky fucking brat.
“I only jerk off to thoughts of them afterward,” I answer.
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Too much DNA if you do anything at the scene, right? Better for all the evidence to go down the drain.”
“And it’s hard to get any leverage while they’re strung up.” I say it lightly, like a joke.
Liam’s breath hitches anyway, and he drapes his hand on my thigh. “Yeah?”
I laugh. “What do you think I’m going to tell you?”
“Tips and tricks,” he replies. “And the loveliest mental images to get off to.” He gives me what I assume he thinks are puppy eyes.
“You keep telling me not to be an idiot, but I’m having to teach myself.
It’s not like there’s really a guide to this.
” He frowns. “Well, I guess there’s a lot of ‘what not to do’ on the podcasts and shit. ”
“Exactly. You learn from others’ mistakes.” I card my fingers through his hair. “Do you even enjoy it? Or is it all some stupid attempt to get my attention?”
“Can’t it be both?” he asks, shifting so he’s even closer to me. “I like it. I just don’t like the… logistics, I guess? It’s a lot of work. But it’s worth it when they start to die.” He licks his lips, his eyes shining with renewed arousal. “Then there’s cleanup, though, and it’s so tedious.”
“Cleanup is where most of them get caught,” I point out.
“Killing in your own stomping grounds, though. I know New Bristol is large, but that’s mostly a single jurisdiction.
The detectives will talk to each other. No red tape, no pissing contests about who gets to solve that crime.
At least take a trip out to Benton for your next one.
Without a calling card, because that would make it too obvious. ”
“I think I already have an M.O.,” he says. “The whole drugging and strangulation thing. But I guess if I use something else and I don’t leave anything else…” He rests his head on my thigh. “I want you to teach me.”
I shouldn’t.
I’ve admitted nothing, but if he gets pulled in, he can still point the cops in my direction.
But I have to admit, I like the attention he’s giving me.
I like how he looks at me.
I love how fucking submissive he is, and how desperately he wants me.
“We’ll see,” I say.
Liam mouths along my thigh. “Please.”
There’s no way I can get hard again this fast. I’m pretty exhausted in general, from the long drive and the exertion of sex. I unzip my jeans anyway.
“You can hold my cock in your mouth,” I tell him. “I’ll make my decision when I’m done with this documentary.”
He looks up at me with bright, hopeful eyes. “Yeah? I can do that.”
He moves so he can get between my legs more easily, slowly taking my soft cock between his lips. He hums, and he sounds so pleased as he takes the entirety of it into his mouth. His eyes drift closed as he settles there.
The documentary is pretty dry, and it doesn’t have any new information on this famous case. It doesn’t even try to suggest a new possible culprit. The murder of Richard Derrick, CEO of a fortune five hundred company, is still unsolved to this day.
I pay less and less attention to the TV and more to Liam. I pet his hair and let my fingers trail along the skin of his neck—along the red marks my belt left behind.
Liam makes a noise and swallows around my cock. He swirls his tongue on the tip of my cock.
“Just holding, brat. Even if I get hard again, I’m not fucking you,” I tell him.
He whines, but he goes back to simply holding my cock in his mouth. Drool accumulates beneath it, but he doesn’t swallow again.
Good to know that he does know how to take orders, sometimes.
A protégé who doesn’t listen is worthless, after all.
As the documentary winds down, I tap on Liam’s jaw. “Sit up. Look at me.”
Liam draws back slowly, blinking several times at me. He looks dazed, his eyes glassy, but he smiles at me. “Yeah?” he asks, the word slurred. “Whassat good?”
“Yeah,” I answer. I rearrange Liam so he’s sitting against me, his head on my shoulder. I keep stroking his hair. “Who do you think did it?”
Liam makes a confused noise. “Did what?”
“The murder of Richard Derrick. Most people assume it was his wife, but there’s no evidence against her.” I reach for the glass of water on the side table and hold it up to Liam’s lips.
He takes a long swallow. “The assistant had the most motive. I heard he was a real bastard.” He laughs. “But aren’t all big company CEOs?”
“The ones I’ve met know how to be charming,” I say. I set the glass aside and tilt Liam’s face up. “I’m going camping in two weeks. If you can manage to stay celibate for those two weeks and not create any other messes, I’ll take you with me.”
He sits up straighter, some of the haze dissipating from his eyes.
“Really? I mean, ew, camping, but I guess I can survive a few days of torture. It can’t be that much worse than this fundraiser I went to last month.
God, that one was terrible. I wanted to gouge my eyes out.
” He pauses, then amends, “Actually, I wanted to gouge the other guy’s eyes out, but I behaved! ”
I let out an amused snort. “Of course you did. But I warn you. My camping trips are usually boring. Just me, nature, and solitude.”
It all depends on how busy the park is, whether I find somebody traveling solo and how smart the other person was about informing their friends and family where they are.
Liam scoffs. “I’ll make it plenty interesting for both of us.”
I lean in to lick his cheek. “If you’re very good, I might mark you a bit more permanently.”
His breath catches, and a low moan spills past his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nibble his jaw. “But you have to deserve it. I have to know I can trust you. Which means…?”
“Um.” Liam’s expression is blank. “I’m not going to out you or anything, Rider. No matter what happens. And I won’t do anything stupid between now and then. I gotta lay low anyway.”
I sigh and sit back. “What are you also not going to do?”
“Fuck any other guys?” he supplies. “Which is gonna be so hard, by the way. Maggie’s going to think I’ve lost my mind.” He touches his neck and grimaces. “She’s already going to know something’s up.” He meets my eyes. “I’ll do it, though. I don’t care how weird she thinks it is. I want you.”
“Good.” I grip his neck and lean in to kiss him. “If you play your cards right, you’ll be my masterpiece.”
He shivers, going boneless beneath my touch. “I’ll do everything right,” he promises against my lips. “You’ll be so proud of me.”
What a fucking idiot.
He thinks I’m a serial killer, and he’s still willing to come out to the woods with me. He agreed to become my masterpiece.
That’s not a protégé. That’s a victim.
I’ll see how I feel in two weeks. If he doesn’t pan out… well, I already know I like how he looks naked and crying.