Chapter 33 #2
Yosef clears his throat and averts his eyes like I’m naked, even though I’m wearing pants. But the strong arms that close possessively around me make it clear why he’s not looking at me.
“What?” Young-gi demands. “This had better be fucking important.”
“There are two people at your downtown office refusing to leave. They’re looking for Tommy.”
I blink, because huh? “Me?”
No one’s ever looked for me.
“Who?” Young-gi asks at the same time, the word sharp.
“A crippled boy with crutches, Josh. And a man named Bruce.”
I don’t react because that can’t be what I heard. That makes no sense. That’s literally not possible. “Joshy doesn’t even know Bruce.”
Yosef shrugs. “They’re together. They showed up together, they’re loitering together.”
“We’ll meet with them.” Young-gi’s declaration surprises me.
“I can go handle it–” I start to offer, but his stern, I’m Daddying you right now look shuts me up.
“We’ll go see them. Don’t let them leave,” Young-gi growls, pulling me back toward the bedroom. Which is when I realize he’s out here stark naked. My head turns like an owl’s, eyes narrow, because is Yosef looking at my man? But he isn’t. His gaze is still averted.
Appeased, I allow Young-gi to manhandle me into the bedroom.
He doesn’t say anything as he strides to his closet. I follow him idly, trying to see if he’s upset, but he’s as blank-faced as ever.
“I wonder what they want,” I murmur as he tosses me jeans and a T-shirt.
“We’ll find out.”
I study him more carefully, and note the careful but quick way he chooses one of his nicer suits. “Are you like, excited to meet them or something?”
“Not excited. Impatient,” he corrects me. “I’m not sure why. Bruce in particular. I want to lay eyes on him, commit him to memory. I want to file him as a non-threat and prove to you that I’m better than he is.”
Oh. He’s jealous. Possessive. He wants me. He loves me. I feel all bubbly-happy again, just like when I woke up in his arms this morning.
Hiding my delight at his jealousy is hard, but I think I manage. “You’ll probably have to spank me,” I say casually. “To prove it, I mean.”
“Oh, definitely,” he agrees darkly, and a shiver runs down my back.
Suddenly, I’m feeling pretty impatient, too.
************
Tommy
I’m not nervous about seeing Bruce again, alright?
I’m not.
But I am feeling maybe, like, kinda weird about it. It’s embarrassing that the last time I saw him, I was sweating Ecstasy and coming down off a bad withdrawal.
And it’s not like I still have feelings for him, or want him or anything. I’m not sure I ever had real feelings for him. So it’s not nervousness.
It’s just weird. A strange echoing feeling, like I’m about to see a version of myself that I didn’t even realize I’d outgrown. He’s my past.
Once we pull up out front, Young-gi has to practically drag me out of the car, prodding me to move toward the building.
“I’m going, I’m going, fucking hell,” I complain, not really going at all. I’m hesitating outside the lobby, the big shiny revolving doors spinning and spinning. I dig my feet in on the sidewalk. The sun is too bright, the day is too busy, and I’m fucking…
I’m not nervous, okay? It’s just weird.
Young-gi can’t pull me close in public, can’t put his hands on me, but I’m getting better at reading his expression because I can tell he wants to do exactly that. I’m supposed to be his niece’s fiancé, and he’s not going to break that image yet. But he wants to.
“Move,” he growls quietly, not angry but threatening in that way I really like. Threatening in that way that promises he’ll correct me if I need it. “Get your ass inside so we can get this over with and I can prove how much more I want you than he does.”
Okay, that does help a bit. My ass tingles and kinda throbs because I can still feel where his teeth sank into me the night before, and with that sensory input, the bright and noisy daylight doesn’t feel too overwhelming.
I feel less like punching the suit-and-tie dickwads who almost bump into me. Less like spitting on the shiny floors.
I look around once we’re in the lobby, expecting to see Joshy and Bruce right away, but Young-gi herds me through the crowded space. He leads me straight to the elevator, a guiding hand on my shoulder.
“They’re upstairs,” he explains, leaning closer than necessary to push the call button, brushing against my back. Teasing me.
Who knew he was such a shameless flirt?
It’s so subtle, literally no one would notice but me, but honestly? He’s making me feel slutty in the best way.
Because this kind of teasing between us is new and exciting, thrilling and naughty and secret. We’re in love. Holy fuck. We’re in love.
When we’re alone in the little space, I can’t help but fidget a little, turned on as hell and nervous also. I mean, not nervous, but like–
Okay, fine, I’m a little nervous.
But mostly? I’m horny. Because Young-gi is staring at me like I’m already naked, and he’s doing it on purpose.
“Fuck you,” I pant. He’s trying to get under my skin. Joke’s on him, he’s already there.
“Are you remembering when I had you in the elevator at home?” Young-gi asks huskily. “After I caught you? When I dragged you back to our bedroom and fucked you?”
“Yeah,” I agree breathlessly. But we don’t have time for a quickie, because the doors are already opening on his floor and we’re spit out into his giant-ass office. I hustle forward, thrilled and eager and also kind of nauseous.
And that’s where I finally see who we came for.
They are sitting on a couple chairs in front of Young-gi’s big desk, quickly leaning back and looking up at us like we just caught them in the middle of a secret conversation–Joshy is blushing, for chrissake. What were they doing in here? Making out?
Bruce’s expression is loud and clear; he’s in full Daddy mode.
Which, for him, is not the foreboding threatening darkness that Young-gi has, but a soft and concerned ‘I’ll fix you’ energy that radiates off him in waves.
He pulled the chairs close together, one of his hands is on Joshy’s armrest like he wants to be close in case Joshy loses his balance.
Joshy’s beat-up prosthetics stick out in front of him at awkward angles, not bending the way they’re supposed to.
When did these two even meet? I wonder.
“Hey, Tommy!” Joshy lights up when he sees me, straightening a bit, giving me a better look at him.
And goddamn, Joshy looks like shit.
I mean, he’s not dirty or anything, but he’s got scabs on his chin and his hands, like he fell hard on concrete. And his clothes are a bit torn. His lip is split and he looks tired.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I ask, and clap his hand in mine in friendly greeting.
“Fell down the stairs,” he shrugs bashfully, a self-deprecating smile on his scarred lips. “You know those things are a death trap, man.”
“What the fuck did you come looking for me for?” I demand. “It’s not safe for you to be walking around.”
“Well, um,” Joshy’s shoulders tense up. Young-gi’s presence looms over my shoulder and Joshy clears his throat, looking anywhere but at us. He glances nervously at Bruce, as if he’s hoping for backup or support.
And Bruce gives it to him immediately, taking his hand, patting his back. It’s such a familiar gesture that it gives me deja vu. But back when we were together–when he did that for me–I’d shrug him off, bite out nasty remarks to him, and dare him to make me accept his care.
But that kind of dare was never what Bruce wanted, and his softness was never what I needed.
But Joshy? He just melts right away, like ice cream in the summer. Like he’s been waiting for that kind of soft touch his whole life. His shoulders sag as he relaxes, he nods to himself like he’s getting courage, and takes a deep breath.
“Well, you see,” he winces, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. “I um–well, the thing is that, uh, well, it’s kinda–um…”
He waffles, and Young-gi takes the opportunity to circle us, to lean on his desk and loom, to pin me under his stare.
I expected him to be mean-mugging Bruce, to be snarling at him or some shit, but instead…
it’s like no one even matters but me. Whatever jealousy he had that made him want to get here, it’s burned off and all that’s left is his heated possessiveness.
When he realizes I’m looking, his brick-wall blankness cracks ever-so-slightly. A whisper of expression; he wants me. And the way he runs his eyes down my body to my ass, I know he’s looking forward to spanking me.
Fuck yeah.
“Joshy,” I interrupt impatiently. “Spit it out.”
“Take your time,” Bruce murmurs, shooting me a look that I’ve never seen on him before–one that tells me to back off.
I blink in surprise, staring at him, but he’s already looking back at Joshy. My gaze bounces back and forth between them, and I snort a laugh. “Are y’all fucking?”
“Tommy!” Bruce admonishes me. Joshy scowls.
“Don’t be a dick,” he says. “You know that isn’t what’s going on.” He gestures at himself, maybe not even realizing he’s doing it, as if to say look at me, why would anyone be fucking me?
“It’s just a question,” I put my hands up innocently.
“Perhaps we should get to the point,” Young-gi sighs. I lean against the opposite side of his desk and cross my arms, acutely aware of the fact that I’m probably about to get spanked over this desk as soon as we get this over with.
Yeah, let’s get to the fucking point.
“Okay, well, I didn’t mean for it to happen, first of all,” Joshy huffs, his annoyance with me making his words come easier. “I gave him the rent money, just like you asked, alright? Told him it was from you and not to give your spot away. Well, all of a sudden he’s asking all these questions–”
“Who?” Young-gi interrupts.
“Tyler?” I ask Joshy, and when he nods, I explain. “Tyler’s the guy on the lease at the apartment. We would pay him under the table for our spots. What happened with Tyler, Joshy?”