The Dom with the Kink Monsters (Badass Brats) (18 page)

It was
also an effort not to be apologetic, as though he’d accidentally fallen on him repeatedly, when he happened to be naked, rather than having had consensual sex. Mostly consensual.

They watched
Mythbusters
, discussing how they’d do things differently. Ramsay got each of them a beer and they drank and chatted like two regular guys, hanging out at five in the morning.

Maybe sleeping would be a good idea, eventually, but they needed to talk first.
How did he start this kind of conversation?

He cleared his throat nervously. “You know earlier when you said that you thought I felt something for you, but that you were wrong?”

Mack didn’t look away from the television, but Ramsay could tell he held all of his attention. “Yeah. It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jeez. Was he going to talk to a dude about his feelings? This went against all the how-to-hang-out-with-guys training he’d ever gotten. Next he’d be chatting with strangers at the urinal. Not cool. He sighed, but this needed to be said. “I was an...”
Don’t say ass! He’s still having enough trouble sitting down.
“Idiot. This is weird for me, but that’s not an excuse. You don’t deserve to be treated like garbage just because the situation weirds me out.”

“Because I’m a guy.”

“Yes, because you’re a guy! I always thought I was straight, until we wrestled that one night. For that matter, I’m not sure I’m not straight. There’s just something about you that I can’t walk away from. I’ve never thought of myself as being homophobic, but maybe I am.”

Mack glanced at him briefly, then back at the TV. Ramsay felt relieved. Sometimes serious discussions were easier without eye contact. “I...it’s not just sex for me, with you. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that you don’t even want to want me, but I figured I’d
put that out there. I’m sure I’ll get over it eventually, so just ignore me if I get weird for a bit.”

The dark fringe of Mack’s
lashes fluttered as he blinked at the television a few times. Ramsay slid closer to him on the couch. He knew how to comfort Saya when he’d fucked up, but this was a guy. But then, thumping him manfully on the back didn’t seem appropriate to the situation either.

Ramsay decided to go with his gut feeling. He grabbed Mack by the shoulder and tipped him until he was stretched out on the couch with his head in Ramsay’s lap. A spark of sexual energy almost ruined his intent, but he ignored it, then ran his fingers through Mack’s short, dark hair. Mack pretended to watch TV, but Ramsay could feel the tension in his body. He traced the line of Mack’s jaw with two fingers, then followed his jugular down the side of his neck, fascinated by the twitch
of muscle and tendon, so strong compared to a woman’s. Had he always been interested in touching men, and just repressed it because of social expectations? Was he really bi?

He thought back. Thought about the guys at the
garage, friends in high school. None of those memories had held any secret attraction for him. He’d never wanted to kiss his science partner or bang Jack in the break room at work. There had never been a fascination with a male actor or singer, or some sports figure.

This was all about Mack.

He had to say something. Letting Mack think his feelings were stupid and completely unreciprocated was mean, especially since it wasn’t entirely true.

There was a moment when he thought he should choose his words carefully, but nothing seemed to be right – to explain that he did care, but that at this point he couldn’t give him any guarantees.

Finally, he grimaced to himself and dove in. “I don’t think I want you to get over it.”

There was a breathless silence and Mack shivered under his hand.

“What do you mean?”

“Only that. It’s all I can give you for now, Mack. Just don’t give up on me yet.”

“All hail the conquering heroes,” Luther crowed as they entered
Sprawl. “I’m surprised you four remembered to come back and pick up your shit, considering.”

Mack jammed his hands in his coat pockets,
reminding himself there was no way he could know what he did with Ramsay the night before. How could the bar owner be so chipper this early? He felt hung over, even though he’d only had the two drinks, and he still ached deep inside. They hadn’t slept much, either. Eventually they’d tucked the girls into bed and cuddled up behind them. Trying to squish all four of them into the queen-size bed wasn’t comfortable, but they hadn’t had long to sleep, anyway.

“The guy jumping the stage was a little disturbing, Luther, but it wasn’t exactly traumatic enough to keep us from picking up our equipment.”

Law frowned and shook his head. “What? Not that. Haven’t you guys been online today?”

“We were up late.” Ramsay replied.

Mack bit his lip, trying not to laugh. They’d been up, all right. Then he’d fallen asleep on the couch with his head in Ramsay’s lap, not that he figured the guys would want to hear that.

“Sweet! Check this out.
” Luther went to the bar and grabbed the open laptop there and brought it over to them. He brought up YouTube and there was a still screen of them on stage, Saya’s red cape front and center. Luther hit play and the last number they’d performed began.

Someone had put them on YouTube? They looked pretty good up there, considering they were new. Knowing Saya, Mack could see the small ways that
bellydance influenced the way she moved across the stage, commanding it in a fluid way, while he stayed mostly in the same area. At least he didn’t look like a dork. Winter was in the background, off to the side, looking cold and dangerous as she played the bass rhythm. Ramsay was like a force of nature, his drumming so dynamic that if the drums hadn’t partially shielded him from the crowd, he would have overshadowed all the rest of them.

The guy jumped onto the stage and Mack was surprised to see how obvious his anger was onscreen. He’d always thought he was subtle. But Saya was so sweet and helpless, that the thought of someone laying a hand
on her like that made him ill.

Now if it was him, in a sexual context, he could get a boner just from thinking of how vocally demonstrative she was. Nothing like a screamer to get under his skin. Like candy. Winter was more like a Thanksgiving meal to him, as a sadist. She gave him so much, could take almost anything he could dream up, and turn it into lust. Between the two of them
, he got the best of both. However, when it came to him, both girls had given him their consent. They had safewords. That douchecanoe deserved everything that’d happened to him in the parking lot, and more.

Mack glanced at Ramsay, but he was holding it together. At least he wasn’t going to get angry all over again. He wasn’t sure his ass could handle it. Even sitting had been an adventure for the past several hours.
Compared to what Winter endured, he felt like a wimp. How she made it through a day all striped up and bruised still amazed him. She was tougher than most men he knew.

The punch he’d thrown at the guy looked impressive on video, and the guy had gone down hard. Fighting off bullies in the schoolyard when he’d been a kid had paid off.

When the video was done, Winter shrugged. “So someone put us on YouTube. Everyone and their screaming goat is on YouTube at this point.”

Law laughed. “Did you see the number of views? A hundred thousand people have watched this video since it went up a few hours ago.”

“That’s sick, Winter.” Luther’s eyes brightened. “I know most people are clicking on it to see Mack cold cock the fucktard that grabbed Little Red, but to get to that bit they’re listening to the song. Most of the comments are loving the music and asking about the band.”

“I’d like to bang that chick into next week?” Winter read aloud. “Although I appreciate the man’s taste, that’s hardly a ringing endorsement of our music.”

“We’ve already had several phone calls here asking about you guys. Most were people interested in hitting your next show, but there was a bar in New York that called us wanting to book you. Here’s the number.” Law handed Winter a scrap of paper and winked at her. Ramsay suddenly got taller and Mack realized he’d done the same.

Law looked back and forth between Ramsay and Mack. “Hey now, settle the fuck down. Winter’s my kind of girl, but I wouldn’t put the moves on her. You know... I’m not even sure who’s with who here.”

“It’s complicated. I’d need you to get me a flip chart and several colors of marker to explain it.” Winter smirked.

His brow puckered and he
shrugged. “Whatever. None of my business. You guys need a website and you need to do some recording. It’s hard to capitalize on this with nothing in place. When you’re rich and famous you’d better play gigs here sometimes. If you never talk to us again, we’ll never forgive you.”

“If we never talk to you again, we won’t know that we’re not forg
iven, so it’s all good.” Winter linked an arm with Saya then sauntered off into the green room.

“She’s so heartless.” Luther bit his knuckle and shook his head in exaggerated regret. “If you ever get tired of her, let us know. I’d gladly bow down before the Ice Queen.”

“You’re submissive?” Ramsay raised a brow.

“What? No. I’m just saying she’s hot. Why? Is she into that kinky shit?” His eyes
were avid and he glanced at Law, then back to them. “I mean, I’ve tied a few girls up because they asked me to, but I really don’t get it. But man, Winter would look fucking sweet in leather.”

Seriously? He was right here! “Eyes
back in your heads, guys. My decking hand is feeling twitchy.”

Lawson held up a staying hand. “No need to kill me, I’m just stating facts. You’re a lucky man, Mack. So do you guys share them, or what?”

“Do you seriously think they’re going to tell you, you nosy bastard?” Luther laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Let the nice people get their stuff together.”

“
Fiiine.” The two men walked behind the bar, bickering amicably, and started doing some sort of inventory, leaving them in peace.

“Do you think they’re seriously after Winter?” Ramsay asked, his tone uneasy. Apparently Mack wasn’t the only one
who had noticed what a good match that appeared to be. Between Law, Luther and Winter, they had enough piercings to have paid Mal’s tattoo shop rent for a few months.

“Nah. I think they might be a little scared of her. Besides, they can’t give her what I do. She’d never settle for vanilla, and she’d definitely never want to go through training another sadist. You’re more
concerned about their interest in Winter than you are stoked about the YouTube thing?”

Ramsay shrugged and punched Mack in the arm, the familiarity of the act warming Mack’s face, even though it was about as straight as a gesture could get. I
t wasn’t like he’d patted him on the ass. “YouTube isn’t exactly known for its impeccable taste in music. The last thing I want to is be a YouTube one-hit wonder. I hope it ends soon, but if we can get our foot in the door in some clubs in New York, it’ll be nice.”

“True.”

Ramsay had a point, but it was difficult to ignore the excitement that came with knowing that so many people had potentially seen them perform.

It wasn’t worth debating anyway, considering none of them had any control over it.

*

The tiny Middle Eastern
restaurant didn’t look like much from the outside, but walking in was like stepping through a portal to another country. Rugs lined the floors, and leather ottomans surrounded low round tables. It was packed with people and unfamiliar-smelling food. Huge ceiling fans circled slowly, keeping the air moving. A riot of color occupied Mack’s artistic senses.

Wait staff brought them drinks, then a range of foods that Ramsay ordered came on huge platters for sharing. Mack didn’t care if he didn’t recognize the dishes – it smelled so good he scooped mouthfuls up with
some flat bread and ate like he hadn’t seen real food in months. They’d been practicing so much lately that pizza had become the staple of their combined diets. He was pretty sick of it. If Saya hadn’t suggested that they do groceries together tomorrow, so that they could practice while still having decent food, he might have given up eating for Lent.

They’d been spending so much time together lately,
the four of them, that being apart felt odd. They practiced, ate, fucked, hung out, and generally lived in each other’s pockets. Eventually it would settle down, he knew, and they’d go back to less togetherness. Ramsay’s nephew coming to visit was going to be a strain on the way they’d been living, but it was only for two weeks, at least.

Musicians had been playing quiet rhythms in the background, which blended with the cacophony of voices caught in the cloth draped ceilings and tin lanterns overhead. The music increased in tempo and volume, and Mack looked up expectantly.

“Don’t get too excited yet. With bellydance the intros tend to drag out for twenty minutes or so before the performers actually show up. It’s probably a good thing too, considering how wound up we got her when she was getting ready.” Ramsay put his legs out in front of him and stretched his arms over his head.

“Are y
ou dancing tonight too, Ramsay?” Winter smirked. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your chair and start the action.”

“
Whaaat?” he drawled. “I dance.”

“I’m talking
bellydance.”

“I do actually know some Middle Eastern dance.”

“You must look adorable in the bra-top and hipscarf.”

He smiled nebulously. “You’ll see if she drags me up to dance. I’m nothing compared to her, though.”

Mack thought about the night before. If the way he fucked was any indication, Ramsay was probably pretty damned good at dancing. He opened his mouth to say as much to Winter, but then realized he wasn’t ready to discuss that just yet.

Three women swirled into the room, their
jewel-colored veils fanning out behind them like the tails of tropical fish. At the next table a woman ululated, the noise reminding him of Xena the Warrior Princess’s battle cry, and people started to clap and yip.

Ramsay was in on the action and nudged them to participate. “You can’t just sit there and watch. It’s insulting. If you’re a yogurt audience, Saya will be upset.”

“Yogurt?” Winter asked.

“Yeah, sitting here silently
, developing culture.”

Ramsay yipped, sounding like
a dog whose tail had been stepped on. Mack grinned, watching Saya as she shimmied up to their table, circling it, dancing in front of them then moving off to work other parts of the room. When she danced, she was more graceful than he’d even imagined. He glanced at Winter to see what she thought, and she was gazing at Saya with naked desire. At that point there was no mistaking her for a straight girl.

Saya danced before them again, veiling her face, then pulling the cloth away so that it skimmed over her like a sheen of water. The angle of her head, the curve of arms, the sway of her hips – all spoke of a woman familiar with her own body and the movements
with which she was communicating. Mack painted her, like this, in his mind, all fluidity and grace, soft lines and femininity. A facet of female beauty in all of its power.

Winter allowed Saya to take her hand and for a moment she danced for her alone. When Saya tried to draw her up to dance, Winter shook her head,
her face blotched red. She danced to Ramsay next and coaxed him to his feet. Mack watched, bemused, as Ramsay began to dance, not bothering with momentary false modesty. Ramsay Park was about as cock sure as a man could get, even in this situation, apparently. His version of the dance spoke of virility and power, but he focused his energy on drawing more attention to Saya. The two of them dancing together caught the interest of most of the room, to the point where the other two dancers stopped trying to compete and stood to watch them, clapping with the music and ululating enthusiastically.

At the end of the song Ramsay collapsed back on his ottoman and waved Saya away when she tried to lure him onto the floor again. She grinned and moved off, going
to areas of the room she hadn’t visited yet.

“I’ll never understand how she can keep it up for so long.” Ramsay shook his head and took a long drink from his glass. “Part of one song and I’m ready for a nap.”

Mack slapped him on the back. “It’s because you’re old.”

“Yes, that six months I’ve got on you has really taken its toll.”

“Pretty soon you’ll be wearing cardigans and slacks on stage. We’ll have to play matinees so you don’t nod off mid-set.”

Ramsay’s eyes narrowed. “If I need a nap today it’s because a disobedient little bitch was playing hard to get last night.”

Mack’s mouth fell open then shut again, his neck hot. He stared down at his glass, not knowing how to respond. Was this Ramsay’s version of flirting?

“If anyone was playing hard to get last night, it was you, Ramsay. Then you did a one-eighty and played hard to get rid of.” Winter wasn’t amused.