Chapter Seven

ARTHUR PLACES THE note on his kitchen table. He reads the words again. Kit is mine. “Hmm.” He takes another photo of the paper and sends the picture to Cooper, Micah, and Maurice. He also sends pictures of the tied-up guard.

Kit leans over his shoulder and peers at his phone. “Not a bad job,” he says. “See where he has this knot? That’s right on a pressure point. He wouldn’t struggle too hard against it.” Arthur can almost hear his smile. “See what I mean? Professional.”

“Professional and violating that restraining—”

“I told you I don’t want the cops involved. We just need to get through one more week.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know. I can get out of town.”

“Forever?” Arthur fumes. “Didn’t he have pictures of you at different locations? There was a pool, right?”

Kit shrugs.

I could intimidate him.

“Your face is the face of violence,” Kit says. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Michael Ward is…well-connected. If he decides you’re in his way, there’s no telling what might happen.”

Jameson. “Hmm.” He unlocks his phone again and calls Micah.

“It’s late,” Micah says as a greeting.

“Tell me you have something on this Jameson guy.”

Kit’s eyes go wide. He sinks down on a kitchen chair, shaking his head.

“Coincidentally, I’ve just been watching CCTV footage from outside a massage parlor he owns on the north side. There happens to be a bank and a gas station nearby with security cameras.”

“And?”

“There seems to be an unusually high number of trucks using the loading bay.”

“Why would a massage parlor need a loading bay?”

“Exactly my question.”

“Find out what they’re delivering.”

“Cooper’s already there.”

“Good.”

“So, I hear you’re shacking up with a porn star now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Good night, Arthur.”

“Night.” Arthur ends the call and looks at Kit. “What’s the deal with Jameson?”

“You don’t want to get involved with him. He’s… When I left Empire, you know how long it took me to find a new studio?”

“No.”

“It took years. Multiple years. Until I met Therese. And I was already successful and established. People were terrified of casting me.”

“Is he directing Ward, then? Telling him what to do?”

“I doubt it. Michael is legitimately crazy. Jameson is just evil. And powerful. He has, like, so much money.”

“You know anything about a massage parlor on the north side of the city?”

“No, it’s been a long time. I imagine they’ve changed their whole operation since I left.” Kit yawns.

“Did you know they’re secretly filming people and blackmailing them?”

“I mean, I’m not surprised. They also don’t respect safe words or ‘no’ lists.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“No one does anything about anything because they’re huge and it’s work. They pay well—unless, apparently, they’re blackmailing you. And Jameson has connections in government, probably organized crime, all sorts of places.” Kit shrugs. “And Michael Ward is his number one. Another reason it’s easier to simply get through this and disappear for a while.”

“Sounds like another reason the problem isn’t going to magically disappear. If Ward is his number one guy and he has some weird obsession with you…”

“Well, life has to go on regardless.” Kit stands up. “And I still have to make rent.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means this conversation is ruining my mood, and I still have a show to do.”

“Tonight? Still?”

“Yes, why not?”

“It’s Friday night. You have all weekend.” Arthur swallows hard.

“I already sent out an announcement.”

Arthur groans. Kit walks around the table to him. He leans against the edge and waits for Arthur to look up at him. “Hm?”

“Do you really not want me to?”

Arthur can’t help but let his eyes travel up and down Kit. He looks tense as a bowstring, ready to snap. Arthur wants to reach out and pull him into his lap. He also kind of wants to throttle him or lock him up, away from the world. He wants to protect him, and he doesn’t know how. The feeling of helplessness raises his hackles. His skin seems to itch from the inside out. “I don’t know how to protect you from these people,” Arthur admits.

“That’s okay,” Kit says. “I’m here. You’re with me. Take the night off.” He opens his backpack and pulls out his laptop. “And order us a pizza.”

 

AN HOUR AND a half later, Kit is sprawled on his stomach on Arthur’s cheap living room rug with his laptop open in front of him. Arthur sits on the sofa, watching him click and grin. “You’re actually going to—”

“I don’t criticize your work,” Kit says.

“I’m not criticizing.”

Kit looks over the computer screen at him. “Three hours ago, do you know where I was?”

Arthur sighs. “The warehouse.”

“And do you know what I was doing?”

“Yes.”

“I was being quite thoroughly fucked by a rather fantastic cock. And then I had to stop. I don’t like to stop. It doesn’t feel good.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur mutters.

“Oh?” Kit smiles devilishly. “Have you been experiencing some frustration, Arthur?”

Arthur glares at him. “Not at all, Christopher.”

Kit licks his lips. “Mmmm, that does things to me. Say it again.”

“Christopher?”

“Oh yes. How strange. You know, this next Friday night, I can fuck anybody I want. If only we were there…”

“Mm.”

“You know,” Kit says, “I don’t know that it’s totally fair how much you’ve gotten to see me, when I’ve never even seen you without a shirt.”

“You’re the one who likes to be watched, not me.”

“But we’re not in public right now.”

“If I take my clothes off, I’m not going to be able to stay away from you.”

“You want me that bad?”

Arthur stares at him.

Kit’s smile grows. “A little peek never hurts. I’m going to start this. They’re waiting.”

“I thought those things were one-on-one.”

“Not this kind. It’s a show.”

Arthur purses his lips.

Kit clicks. He waves at his webcam. “Hi there.” His voice is warm honey, and all the hairs on Arthur’s arms stand on end. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had one hell of a week.” He grins as he looks at the screen. Arthur assumes there are comments rolling in already. “Oh, thank you, darling. Yes, this isn’t my apartment. Part of the long week. I’m staying with a…” His eyes flit up to Arthur’s, and he bites his lip. “A friend.” He nibbles on a fingernail.

Arthur thinks he should get his computer out so he can see what the comments are, but before the thought can solidify, Kit sits up. “It’s been a long week and I’m a bit on edge.” He reads the screen and chuckles. “Yes, absolutely.” His eyes flash. “Oh my, aren’t you eager? Okay. Let’s start with this.” He adjusts the laptop and kneels in front of it. He untucks his shirt and starts to unbutton the front. “You had a long week, too, didn’t you?” His eyes shift to Arthur again, then back to his computer. “And you’ve been so tense. Why don’t you let me do the work and make you feel good? You just enjoy everything, okay, and I’ll make you feel so good. You know making you feel good makes me feel good.” He finishes unbuttoning the shirt and lets the fabric fall to the floor beside him.

He looks down at himself. “Hmm.” He strokes his chest. “I’m so sensitive today. I think it’s because I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I knew I would be here and you were going to watch me. I’ve been thinking about you.” He pinches his nipples and lets out a small moan. “Oh, that’s good.” He writhes, and one hand finds his belt. He undoes the clasp with nimble fingers and slides it out of his jeans with a swish and a snap of leather. “Mmm, sounds good, doesn’t it?” He reads more, toying with his nipple. “You want to spank me with it? Hmm…I think I might like being spanked a little tonight. You want to spank me with it on my bare ass until my skin is all red?” He squeezes himself and rubs through his jeans. “Look how excited you’re making me.” He leans back. “I think it’s time to get out of these clothes, don’t you think?” He unzips his jeans and slides them off. He’s wearing the same briefs as earlier, and Arthur wonders how wrecked they are. His body would have been slick with lubricant and other fluids, and the way he had held himself in the truck meant he had been still aroused, probably leaking with want.

Arthur spares a moment to imagine it being his own fluids—spit from rimming Kit, precum or more—dripping from him. He’d need to take care of him after, of course, with a soapy bath, but the delicious filth of having Kit walk around, marked by him, has Arthur breathing through his mouth.

Kit notices. He lifts an eyebrow and smiles at him. “I know,” he says. “You’re waiting for these to come off, aren’t you?” He rubs himself through the fabric. “Mmmm.” He pushes down the waistband and turns, so instead of immediately revealing his cock, he shows his ass. When he gets them off, he pauses for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the computer, then up to Arthur, and then to the computer again. “You like that?” he asks. He spreads his cheeks. “Am I still relaxed for you?” He traces a finger along himself. “I was all prepared earlier. Gaping and ready to take all of your cock.” Arthur gulps at the filthy words. Kit pushes a finger at his entrance, and Arthur stifles a groan. “Hmm, not ready yet. I may need a little help.”

He turns, and Arthur glimpses his cock. It’s the closest he’s seen it. He realizes he has Kit alone, naked, in his apartment. He can’t touch, but it’s exquisite anyway.

“Darling?”

It takes a moment for Arthur to realize Kit is talking to him. He frowns and lifts an eyebrow.

“Can you hand me the silver bottle, please?”

Arthur picks up the bottle from the coffee table and hands it to him. Their fingers touch. He struggles to breathe. He realizes the shot is ingenious: Kit’s viewers will have the illusion of handing the bottle from their perspective, since he’s effectively behind the camera. He’s part of the fantasy, and the realization both annoys and arouses him. He watches Kit dribble lube on his fingers. “I’d rather you get me wet with your mouth, but this will have to do for now.” He grips his cock and strokes himself. “That’s a good start,” he whispers, setting a slow pace. “Yeah…” He strokes with one hand and toys with his balls with the other. His eyes lose focus as he starts to get into the movement, and he releases those little moans of pleasure Arthur has begun to find familiar.

Annoyed or not, Arthur wants to be the cause of those little moans. He wonders what noises he’d make with Arthur’s mouth around his cock or if he sucked one of his testes into his mouth. He wonders what noises he’d make if his tongue found Kit’s ass.

Kit seems to be on the same wavelength. “I want to feel you,” he moans. He turns so that he’s facing away again. And then he does precisely as the fan asked in the message: he sinks his finger in, bit by bit. Arthur watches his body take him in. Kit groans. “Fuuuck, that’s so good. Yes.” He rocks his hand a bit; then he adds another finger.

Arthur bites back his own groan. He realizes he’s rubbing himself through his jeans. Kit looks back at him, sees his hand, and lets out another desperate gasp.

“I need more,” he whimpers. “Need more.” He strokes harder with his fingers. “I need you deeper than this.” He looks at Arthur. “Hand me that.” He points to the toy on the coffee table. The dildo is modestly sized, pale violet and ribbed. Arthur heaves a breath and does what he says.

Kit lies on his side and holds himself open with one hand so Arthur can see him push the dildo past his rim. He twitches.

Arthur unzips his jeans.

Kit fucks himself slowly at first but soon quickens the motions. “Fuck, I want you so bad. You would feel so good.” He looks at his computer screen. “Mmm, thank you,” he says with a flutter of lashes. “You think I have a pretty little asshole? It’s so needy for cock. Needs you to fill it up, like hnngh…” The language raises the hair on Arthur’s arms. The words should be vile, but instead, they’re primal and make his blood churn. Kit fucks himself harder. He looks back, reading. “Yes, yes, it’s my friend.” He hisses a breath as the dildo hits a good spot in him. “He’s—I think he’s enjoying the show, yeah. Yeah… Right there…” He lets out a low chuckle. “A bigger one?” He bites his lip. “Well, aren’t you naughty tonight? If that’s what you want—I told you I was going to make you feel good.” He pulls out the dildo and sets it aside. “Give me that one,” he tells Arthur. Arthur winces as he leans forward. He picks up a larger dildo and hands it over. This one looks more like a cock, with bulging veins. “Thank you,” Kit purrs.

He dribbles lube onto the toy and leans back. His hard, flushed cock seems to throb as he looks at it with excitement, and Arthur thinks how easy it would be to reach over and help him with the task. He could take him by hand. He could taste him. Kit meets his gaze, and Arthur reaches into his jeans. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to stop himself.

“Oooh yes,” Kit whispers. Arthur opens his eyes to see Kit watching him. His jaw drops open, and he watches Arthur grip himself. The angle is all wrong, and he’s bound by the denim. Kit bends his knees and pushes the larger dildo into his ass.

Arthur groans. He can’t hold it in. Kit hears him, and his cock visibly throbs. He starts to fuck himself in earnest. “Yeah,” Kit whispers, “more, more…” He thrusts with one hand, then switches to the other. Sweat gathers on his skin, and Arthur realizes his muscles are tired. Kit whimpers in frustration. “I need…”

Arthur picks up a different dildo. Shaped like me, he thinks with a thrill of excitement and pride. He grabs the lube.

“Fuck, yes, please,” Kit moans, pulling out and watching Arthur. “Give it to me.” He doesn’t call him Daddy, but Arthur still feels like he’s in a fugue.

“Is this…”

“Yes, please…”

Arthur grips Kit’s leg and holds it so he’s spread open. His hole is fucked open again, but Arthur lines up the bigger dildo and knows he’s going to have to go slow. Gentle. He rubs the toy against Kit’s rim and listens to him beg. He ignores his own trapped erection and watches Kit’s pulse and drip onto his stomach. Kit’s skin is cool beneath his hand where he caresses and supports his leg. And then he pushes the dildo’s head past Kit’s rim.

Kit’s chest heaves. “Fuck, fuck, it’s so good, yes, more, more…”

Arthur thrusts in, shallow at first. He watches Kit’s body adjust. He feels him relax and the resistance give. He gives and gives, and Kit’s words turn into mere broken syllables. Then he pulls the toy out and stares. The furl of muscle seems to pulse, gaping, ready to be filled. Arthur wants to touch so bad. He remembers how Kit falls apart when he’s being rimmed. He groans and pushes the dildo back in instead.

Kit goes boneless as Arthur fucks him with the toy. Then, just when he seems to have adjusted to Arthur’s pace, Arthur shifts the angle. “Fuuuuuuck…” Kit’s eyes roll back as Arthur hits the spot. His limbs shake. Arthur feels the tremor of his thigh beneath his hand, and he sweeps his thumb across Kit’s skin. Kit starts to tense again, his skin flushing, as the pleasure builds and builds, and Arthur keeps focusing on that spot as Kit reaches his arms out to the side, fingers splayed, and manages to say, “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” between gasps. When the orgasm takes him, he tosses back his head and keens. It gets everywhere: Arthur’s arm is splattered, Kit’s stomach, the floor.

When Kit comes back to earth, he looks up at him with soft eyes. “Thank you,” he murmurs. Arthur grunts and stands. He shuffles away. He hears Kit adjust the computer behind him. “I…I gotta go, guys. Thanks for watching. Thanks for the tips. I’ll—I’ll see you later.” Arthur stares blankly into the kitchen. “Arthur?”

Arthur doesn’t say anything. His body is on fire. He feels like he’s going to come apart.

Kit steps around him and faces him. He’s still nude, splattered with fluids. He shifts his weight and winces. “You didn’t…”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I should’ve just—”

“No, please, please don’t apologize.” He presses his lips together. “Though everyone is now dying to know whose incredible hands and forearms they just saw.” He steps close. “But I’m not sure I want to share.” He reaches out and touches Arthur’s forearms. He hums in interest and steps closer. Then he leans forward, closing the gap between them, and covers Arthur’s lips with his own.

Something in Arthur snaps. He wraps his arms around Kit and hauls him against his body, opening to the kiss. He teases Kit’s mouth with his tongue, running it along the seam of his lips. When Kit parts his lips and reaches his tongue to meet Arthur’s, he feels the twist in his gut again, but more acutely. He presses one hand into the small of Kit’s back and runs the other up the ladder of his spine, acquainting his fingers with the ridges of his bones, the lean muscle, the cool, smooth skin. He tangles his fingers in Kit’s hair and kisses him deep, letting his hold on reality go.

Kit meets every shift of his lips and tongue and gives back.

Arthur trails his hand back down, and he grips Kit’s hips. Then he groans into the kiss and reaches back and grabs Kit’s ass. In response, Kit clings harder to him, puts his arms around Arthur’s neck, and wraps his legs around him. Arthur carries him to the bedroom, kissing him through it all, and deposits them both on the bed. Kit pulls at his jeans.

“You can’t,” Arthur reminds him.

“But you haven’t—”

“I’ll survive.”

“Get me a condom,” Kit argues.

“I’m not going to—”

“Not that. Just trust me.”

Arthur frowns, but he reaches into his nightstand for a condom. Kit takes the packet and, eyes wide, finally releases Arthur’s cock from its cage. He licks his lips and opens the condom, then rolls it onto Arthur. He comes back up for another kiss and reaches for a bottle of lube. “Christopher…”

“Just this,” Kit murmurs, dribbling slick into his hands. He reaches down and takes Arthur in hand.

Arthur is shaking before Kit even picks up the pace. He chases his lips for more of the searing kiss and lets Kit stroke him with lube-slicked hands. It’s messy and loud, and Arthur’s whole body convulses as Kit speeds. He sits back on his heels and watches, whispering encouragements until Arthur cries out and comes. Kit strokes him through it, then falls into place beside him. He turns his face to Arthur. His lips are puffy from kisses; Arthur traces them with his thumb. Kit’s eyes look silver in the bedroom light, fixed on him, only him. He feels something in him building and building.

If they try to hurt him, I may kill them. The thought is terrifying.

He cleans himself up and wipes down Kit with a warm, wet cloth.

“Sleep with me,” Kit whispers. “Stay with me tonight.”

Arthur sighs. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants and slides into the bed. When he looks over, before he turns off the lamp, he sees Kit smile with his eyes closed.

“Shakespeare,” Kit says.

“What?”

“There aren’t a multitude of career options for people with theatre degrees. I don’t teach. But I…I still do Shakespeare festivals in the summer for fun.”

“I see.” Arthur switches off the lamp and lets the darkness hide his smile.