taller than I am and outweighs me by a good fifty pounds. “Nice to meet you,” I say, my voice deep as I can make it, ignoring the way Otter and the Kid snort. “I’m Bear, Otter’s… partner.” I grip his hand and do my best to crush his bones into dust.
David just looks amused. “I remember hearing about you years ago. I don’t think we ever met, though.”
Say what? “Heard about me?” I ask, my voice going deeper, almost to the point where it sounds like I’m grunting.
David lets go of my hand before I can break his fingers. I’m sure he’s in copious amounts of pain and just wants to crawl into a corner and hold his injured hand and cry. But somehow, he’s still able to smile at me. He’s good. “Oliver and I used to be… friends .” It’s not lost on me how that last word comes out, low and breathy, like he’s fucking the air around him with his mouth. He’s really good. “I didn’t know you were… you know.”
I stare at him, daring him to keep on talking, but he’s obviously waiting for me to respond to his question that’s not really a question. “I don’t remember you,” I tell him. “Must not have been very good friends if I never met you.” These words are out before I can stop them, and even I can hear how much of a jackass I am.
Jesus Christ , it laughs. Why don’t you just whip out your dick and piss on Otter? I’m sure that would get your point across.
Otter sighs and shakes his head, but that small smile never leaves his face, and I know he’s enjoying the hell out of this, and I think maybe I should piss on him, but I don’t think we’re the water-sports type. I’m fucked up as it is; I don’t need to find out I’m into kinky shit on top of everything else. I don’t think my heart could take it. (And, knowing the way my luck goes, I’d find out I was into the really kinky shit, and would be the type that needs to wear a black leather hood over my head with a zipper across my mouth and have jumper cables attached to my nipples with the other ends to a car battery, just to get my rocks off. That’s a real thing, by the way. People do that. Look it up online. I can wait. See? I told you. People are so weird.)
David’s not fooled by my words, and his grin grows wider, and it’s like he’s a shark, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many teeth before in a person. I’m about to open my mouth to say something (what, I don’t know) when the Kid speaks up for me.
“We all live together now,” he tells David, his little voice flat. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
David turns from me and looks down at the Kid. “It sounds like it,” he says cheerfully. “And you must be Tyson. It’s certainly a pleasure to meet you!” He reaches out to shake the Kid’s hand, and I see the veins on the back of the Kid’s hand rise as he attempts to give his own version of a death grip. Jesus God, he’s not just like me, he is me. “That’s quite a handshake you’ve got there!” David exclaims, pretending to fall to his knees and grimacing.
The Kid rolls his eyes. “Are you always this patronizing?” he asks. “If so, I don’t know if we’d be a good match.”
“Tyson,” I say, my voice a warning, even though I just want to let him at David. It would be hilarious to watch as the Kid systematically deconstructed his future teacher, but I’ve always tried to impress upon the Kid that he show respect, especially when we’re trying to get him ahead.
The Kid scowls at me for a moment but then drops the act. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m not trying to be rude. I just don’t like to be talked down to.”
David nods solemnly, and I think he’s being serious. He gets a point in my book, but he has to make up for the huge deficit he’s already amassed. He doesn’t stand a chance. “Well, Tyson, I can definitely promise I won’t pander to you. I’ve heard some very wonderful things about you, and I can’t wait to see what you can do.”
“Shall we,
David just looks amused. “I remember hearing about you years ago. I don’t think we ever met, though.”
Say what? “Heard about me?” I ask, my voice going deeper, almost to the point where it sounds like I’m grunting.
David lets go of my hand before I can break his fingers. I’m sure he’s in copious amounts of pain and just wants to crawl into a corner and hold his injured hand and cry. But somehow, he’s still able to smile at me. He’s good. “Oliver and I used to be… friends .” It’s not lost on me how that last word comes out, low and breathy, like he’s fucking the air around him with his mouth. He’s really good. “I didn’t know you were… you know.”
I stare at him, daring him to keep on talking, but he’s obviously waiting for me to respond to his question that’s not really a question. “I don’t remember you,” I tell him. “Must not have been very good friends if I never met you.” These words are out before I can stop them, and even I can hear how much of a jackass I am.
Jesus Christ , it laughs. Why don’t you just whip out your dick and piss on Otter? I’m sure that would get your point across.
Otter sighs and shakes his head, but that small smile never leaves his face, and I know he’s enjoying the hell out of this, and I think maybe I should piss on him, but I don’t think we’re the water-sports type. I’m fucked up as it is; I don’t need to find out I’m into kinky shit on top of everything else. I don’t think my heart could take it. (And, knowing the way my luck goes, I’d find out I was into the really kinky shit, and would be the type that needs to wear a black leather hood over my head with a zipper across my mouth and have jumper cables attached to my nipples with the other ends to a car battery, just to get my rocks off. That’s a real thing, by the way. People do that. Look it up online. I can wait. See? I told you. People are so weird.)
David’s not fooled by my words, and his grin grows wider, and it’s like he’s a shark, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many teeth before in a person. I’m about to open my mouth to say something (what, I don’t know) when the Kid speaks up for me.
“We all live together now,” he tells David, his little voice flat. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
David turns from me and looks down at the Kid. “It sounds like it,” he says cheerfully. “And you must be Tyson. It’s certainly a pleasure to meet you!” He reaches out to shake the Kid’s hand, and I see the veins on the back of the Kid’s hand rise as he attempts to give his own version of a death grip. Jesus God, he’s not just like me, he is me. “That’s quite a handshake you’ve got there!” David exclaims, pretending to fall to his knees and grimacing.
The Kid rolls his eyes. “Are you always this patronizing?” he asks. “If so, I don’t know if we’d be a good match.”
“Tyson,” I say, my voice a warning, even though I just want to let him at David. It would be hilarious to watch as the Kid systematically deconstructed his future teacher, but I’ve always tried to impress upon the Kid that he show respect, especially when we’re trying to get him ahead.
The Kid scowls at me for a moment but then drops the act. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m not trying to be rude. I just don’t like to be talked down to.”
David nods solemnly, and I think he’s being serious. He gets a point in my book, but he has to make up for the huge deficit he’s already amassed. He doesn’t stand a chance. “Well, Tyson, I can definitely promise I won’t pander to you. I’ve heard some very wonderful things about you, and I can’t wait to see what you can do.”
“Shall we,
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