Broken Rules Read online

  Sanyam grinned and pushed his pants down over his hips, then yanked his shirt up and over his head before rolling the condom on and settling back onto Fox’s thighs as Fox fumbled for his own condom.

  “Need some help?” Sanyam asked, lightly flicking the head of Fox’s shaft with a thumbnail.

  Fox yelped and dropped the condom, glaring at him.

  Sanyam picked it up and winked, scooting back down on the bed. “Not that dexterous, right? Watch and learn, kit.” He put the unrolled condom in his mouth and dropped his head, rolling the condom down Fox’s shaft in one smooth motion with lips and tongue.

  Fox made a strangled noise and clutched at the bedspread, thighs quivering.

  Sanyam hummed appreciatively, savoring the weight and feel of Fox on his tongue, the silken slide even through the latex. He spent several leisurely minutes working him over, until Fox’s chest was heaving and a flush pinked his porcelain skin under the bruises.

  Finally Sanyam pulled off. He grabbed the lube and slicked Fox’s shaft before he crawled back up, propping himself on his elbows so they were chest to chest.

  Fox’s eyes were dazed, his hair rumpled, and Sanyam kissed the end of his nose, making him blink.

  Then he rolled them again, stopping on his back with Fox balanced on top of him, hard shaft caught in the groove of Sanyam’s hip.

  “Ah, yes,” Sanyam said. Fox rolled downward against him in a filthy grind, spit and sweat and lube making the slide so perfect that Sanyam’s toes curled against the mattress.

  He grabbed Fox’s hips, pulling him closer, fingers biting into flesh. Fox dropped his head on a choked moan, hips in a steady rhythm as he opened his mouth and set his teeth in Sanyam’s collarbone.

  His breath was hot and wet against Sanyam’s skin, teeth skidding along bone, and it was a matter of minutes before Sanyam planted both feet flat on the bed and shoved his hips up, filling the condom thick and fast, brain whiting out in ecstasy.

  Fox was still moving in short, abortive thrusts of his hips, eyes hungry, when Sanyam came around, settling back into his body with a deep sigh.

  Sanyam flexed his fingers and pulled Fox closer again. “Come on, then, kit,” he murmured. “Let me see it. Come for me, beautiful.”

  Fox obeyed with a muffled whimper, shuddering all over and finally collapsing in a limp heap on top of Sanyam’s body.

  They lay quietly for several long, delicious minutes, Sanyam running his hand up and down Fox’s heaving ribs.

  After a while, though, he patted Fox’s ass. “Shower time.”

  Fox made a protesting noise into Sanyam’s collarbone.

  “Up,” Sanyam said, poking him in the ribs. “Come on. You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

  Fox twisted away from his finger, growling, but allowed Sanyam to pull him off the bed and up onto his feet.

  They shared a slow, leisurely shower, with Fox leaning a shoulder against the glass and watching Sanyam through sleepy eyes.

  When they were done, Sanyam dried them both off and helped Fox into pajamas while he yawned, limbs gone floppy with exhaustion.

  “Will you be okay now?” Sanyam asked as Fox curled up on his side and Sanyam pulled the blankets over him.

  Fox nodded, shoving his fist against his mouth to stifle another yawn.

  Sanyam laughed quietly, affection startling him with its intensity. “You need a minder, you do.”

  “Do not,” Fox said, eyes drooping.

  “I’ll see myself out,” Sanyam said, pushing Fox’s hair off his forehead.

  Fox was asleep before Sanyam tiptoed from the room.

  Chapter Twelve

  STERLING WOKE abruptly around 3:00 a.m., sitting up straight in the bed. He yawned and stretched, kicking off the covers, and evaluated. He felt better than he had in a while, and he wandered to the bathroom and from there to the living room.

  The box from Cricket’s estate sale sat on his coffee table, painted in shades of platinum from the moonlight that streamed through the glass door to his balcony, and Sterling sat down and flipped the lid off.

  It was bright enough to easily see the disaster within. Shards of colored glass tumbled together to create a cacophonic kaleidoscope in riotous hues.

  Sterling bit his lip, guilt crawling through his veins again, and lifted one of the bigger pieces out.

  It was from the platter that had matched the bowl, the reds and blues and greens spreading over the surface of the glass like oil on water.

  Sterling swept the half-finished puzzle into its box, then set the glass shard on the table and began picking out the other pieces, one by one.

  After a minute, he put the box on the floor by his knee, stood and turned on the light, and went back to work, separating out each piece with methodic care.

  HE’D GONE to the club to see Sanyam, of course. But Delfia had been his waitress, and she’d been scared of him, which made Sterling sick, somewhere deep in a forgotten part of his soul.

  So he’d poured on the charm, tipping her generously with every drink she’d brought him, careful not to so much as brush her fingers when accepting his glass, and after about half an hour, she’d lost some of the tightness around her eyes and the stiffness in her posture.

  Half an hour after that, Jackson had shown up, all suave swagger, sunglasses in his casually tousled hair and his polo open at the neck. He’d made a beeline for Sterling’s table, Braden on his heels, and Delfia had bolted.

  STERLING JERKED, swearing as blood welled on his finger, and put the digit in his mouth to suck on the cut.

  HE’D TRIED to get Jackson to leave, making a subtle motion for Kimi to call the police, but Jackson had laughed in his face.

  “Please,” he’d said, settling in at the table. “I’m not breaking any laws, and they can’t kick me out unless I am.”

  He’d slung his arms along the low back of the couch, an insolent move reminiscent of the way Sanyam took up the space of any area he was in, and it made Sterling grit his teeth as he fought to keep his temper.

  “That’s not how it works,” he’d said, his voice even. “Your dad’s a lawyer, you should know this, Jacks. You’re blacklisted. They’re within their rights to refuse you service and call the cops. The bouncer shouldn’t have even let you in.”

  Jackson had openly sneered. “My father could buy and sell this place ten times over. They’re lucky to have me.”

  A young man sashayed past, hair swept up into an elaborate do and slim body on display in a silvery dress that glittered with sequins. His long legs looked even longer with the six-inch heels he was wearing, and Jackson made a noise of disgust.

  “This place was great, right up until they started letting the trannies in.”

  Sterling had swung without thinking, fist connecting with Jackson’s nose.

  HE DROPPED the piece of glass with a hiss, staring dumbly at the gash on his palm. He’d been gripping it too tightly, he realized. Stupid.

  Standing, he pressed his thumb against the wound as blood welled around it, and stumbled for the bathroom.

  Sanyam had put the first aid kit under the sink, and Sterling fumbled it out one-handed and set it on the toilet lid.

  He stared at it for a moment, flummoxed. What now?

  Maybe he should call someone. Before he could think better of the idea, he’d dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sanyam’s number.

  “Fox? What time is it? Are you all right?” Sanyam’s voice was foggy with sleep, sharpening rapidly into concern.

  Sterling put the phone on speaker and set it on the sink, ignoring the blood smears. “I… cut my hand.”

  “How bad is it? Is it deep enough to see bone? Should I come over?”

  “No,” Sterling protested. “It’s just a cut, I’m fine, I just… I don’t know how to bandage it. Look, I’m sorry, forget it. I’ll… go to the ER or something.”

  “Just a moment.”

  There were rustling noises, like Sanyam was sitting up in bed and then speakin
g in a low voice to someone.

  Sterling squeezed his eyes shut. Of course Sanyam had a partner. Sterling was an idiot, why had he done this—

  He was groping for the phone to turn it off when Sanyam came back.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “My cat didn’t appreciate being disturbed.”

  He had a cat. Sterling couldn’t figure out if he was more relieved or embarrassed by his own reaction.

  “Okay, has the bleeding stopped?” Sanyam asked.

  Sterling poked at it with a cautious fingertip. “Mostly?” he said, as blood oozed sluggishly. “I think I just started it again.”

  Sanyam sighed. “You do need a minder. All right, run it under cool water until the water runs clear and your skin is clean.”

  Sterling turned the water on and hissed through his teeth as it made contact with the wound.

  “I know,” Sanyam said, his deep voice reassuring through the haze of pain sparking in Sterling’s mind. “It hurts, I know, but keep it there. Don’t move, kit. Hold your hand steady. You can do it.”

  Sterling kept the whimper locked in the back of his throat, holding his wrist with his good hand as the blood swirled away down the drain.

  “You’re doing really well,” Sanyam said after a minute. “Just a little longer.”

  “How—do you know?” Sterling managed through gritted teeth, closing his eyes. “You’re not even—here.”

  “You think I don’t know you by now?” Sanyam said, amusement in his voice. “You’re running the cut under the tap, and those long fingers of yours are likely wrapped around your wrist to hold yourself in place as you wait.”

  Sterling was silent, and Sanyam laughed, quietly triumphant.

  “It’s all right, kit. How’s it looking?”

  “Water’s running clear,” Sterling said, peering at the cut. The edges were clean, and it was oddly fascinating to see how the glass had sliced through the layers of skin.

  “Good,” Sanyam said. “Turn the water off and very gently pat your hand dry with a clean towel.”

  “What kind of slob do you think I am?” Sterling demanded as he obeyed.

  Sanyam’s laugh was rich and easy and made Sterling’s mouth tug upward as he pulled a towel from the linen closet and gingerly dried his hand.

  “Now what?”

  “How deep is it?”

  “It’s not the Marianas Trench,” Sterling said as he stood in the middle of his bathroom, feeling suddenly ridiculous.

  “Can you move your fingers?”

  “It hurts,” Sterling protested.

  “I know, kit, but I need to be sure you haven’t cut any tendons. Move your fingers for me. Touch each one to your thumb.”

  Sterling gritted his teeth and obeyed, breathing hard through his nose. His hand ached sharply, but he moved his fingers, touching the tip of each to his thumb before sagging in relief.

  “I did it. I—look, I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh no,” Sanyam said. “I’m not leaving you to handle this alone now. Do you think you’ll need stitches?”

  Sterling shrugged before he remembered Sanyam couldn’t see him. “I don’t… think so? Not exactly a doctor, though.”

  “Send me a picture,” Sanyam ordered.

  Why hadn’t he thought of that? Sterling obeyed, grimacing at the blood on the sink as he picked the phone up. He was half tempted to take a picture with his middle finger extended, but it still hurt to move his hand, so instead he just angled the phone and sent the picture.

  Sanyam hummed approval. “Good,” he said, and why did that make Sterling’s chest feel warm and tight? “It looks clean. You did well, kit. I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Get a piece of gauze from the box and put it in place over the open wound, then wrap a bandage around it. Use a piece of medical tape to secure the end. Don’t pull the bandage too tight—losing circulation in your hand would be infinitely worse for you than a scar.”

  Sterling put the phone back down to obey.

  “What were you doing, anyway?” Sanyam asked as Sterling struggled to open the gauze with one hand and his teeth. “How did you manage to cut yourself at nearly four o’clock in the morning?”

  Sterling shrugged again as he wrapped the bandage in place. “I was… messing around. Remember that stuff of Cricket’s I broke? I guess I was playing with the pieces.”

  “You’re a walking disaster,” Sanyam said, and there was, impossibly, affection in his voice. “First your foot, then your forehead, now your hand—what’s next?”

  “I’m not completely helpless,” Sterling said, nettled.

  “I know you’re not.” Sanyam yawned, a muffled noise. “Sorry.”

  “I woke you,” Sterling said. “Go back to bed.”

  “Will you be all right?”

  “Yeah,” Sterling said, admiring his bandage job. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Fox,” Sanyam said, voice suddenly serious. “I didn’t say it earlier, and I should have—I’m proud of you.”

  Sterling was stunned into silence, gawping at the phone. “You what?” he finally managed.

  “I’m proud of you,” Sanyam repeated. “You stood up for Delfia tonight. You did the right thing at a cost to yourself. You did well, Fox.”

  “I—” Sterling couldn’t think of anything to say as a hot flush crawled up his chest and throat.

  “Go back to bed,” Sanyam said. “I’ll come over and check your bandage tomorrow. How’s that? Good night, kit.”

  Sterling hung up and stared at his phone. He still wasn’t sleepy, though, and he’d had a sudden idea what he could do with the shattered glass.

  He headed for the living room, already plotting out what he’d need.

  HE WAS fifteen years old, just coming to grips with his sexuality and terrified of what it would mean for his future.

  “Happy birthday!” Cricket held out a brightly wrapped package, and Sterling eyed it skeptically.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it and find out, you idiot!”

  Sterling took it and ripped the paper off to reveal a puzzle box inside, the cover proudly touting that it was “the hardest puzzle on the market.”

  “Edgeless pieces?” Sterling said, looking up. “And how come there’s no picture on the box? How am I supposed to know what I’m making?”

  Cricket smiled at him. “That’s the whole point! You’re smart; you’ll figure it out.”

  Yates snorted. “Puzzles. You should be thinking about your college education, where you want to attend university, not playing with puzzles.”

  Sterling clutched the box to his chest. “Thanks, Cricky. I love it.”

  HE WOKE to the sound of his phone ringing and realized he’d dozed off waiting for the craft store to open.

  It was his father.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  His voice reverberated through Sterling’s head, making his teeth hurt, and he nearly dropped the phone as he sat up.

  “I—Dad? What are you talking about?”

  “I got a call from Noble Whittier this morning,” Yates hissed, fury thickening his words. “Guess what he had to say about you?”

  Sterling froze. “Oh.”

  “Yes,” Yates mocked. “‘Oh.’ What the fuck were you thinking, punching Jackson in the nose? You’re lucky you’re not in jail, you stupid little—” He sucked in air as Sterling closed his eyes.

  “I was just—”

  “Save it,” Yates said. “I don’t actually care. The real question is, why were you in a sex club?”

  “I was… just seeing a friend,” Sterling said, hating how small his voice was. “His shift was almost over, and I was waiting to talk to him, and Jackson was saying awful things about one of the waitresses and—”

  “So?” Yates interrupted. “Who cares what that spoiled brat was doing? He is not my concern. You, however, are. You are a Reynard, and Reynards don’t frequent sex clubs. I’ve let you run wild long enough. It’s time for you to work for your li
ving. Report to my office at 9:00 a.m. Let’s see if we can actually get some use out of that degree I paid for, or if your head really is as empty as you act. If you don’t shape up, I’m cutting you off without a penny, don’t think I won’t.”

  He hung up, and Sterling was left staring at the wall, a yawning pit in his chest.

  He was still sitting there when someone knocked on the door. Sterling lifted his head, trying to focus.

  Oh no. He’d forgotten about Sanyam coming over. He probably had breakfast and coffee, those damned slanted eyes smiling and kind and seeing way too much.

  Sterling shoved himself off the couch and stalked for the door.

  The smile slid from Sanyam’s face when Sterling confronted him, his fists clenched in abortive fury, the pain from the cut only making him angrier.

  “What happened?” Sanyam asked.

  “Nothing,” Sterling said. “Go away.”

  He tried to shut the door, but Sanyam put his foot in the opening and it bounced back. Sterling snarled and spun on his heel.

  “Fuck off,” he said over his shoulder, stalking back to the couch. He knew Sanyam had followed him into the living room, but he didn’t look, sweeping the glass he’d arranged so carefully back into the box with one vicious swing of his arm.

  “Fox,” Sanyam said, shock in his voice. “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sterling said. “My hand is fine, see?” He shoved it under Sanyam’s nose.

  “I’m not really worried about your hand right now,” Sanyam said, eyes steady on Sterling’s face.

  “Yeah, well, there’s nothing else wrong,” Sterling snapped. “Why won’t you take a hint? Why are you here?”

  “I’m here because I care about you,” Sanyam said quietly. “Because I want to make sure you’re all right, and it’s quite obvious something’s wrong.”