Beautiful boy

By Grace R. Duncan

Malcolm Tate hung up his flogger when his submissive sought out another Dom and landed in the hands of a serial killer. Convinced his lack of dominance sent his sub away, Mal has spent two years blaming himself for what happened. But when his best friend finally convinces him to go back to the local dungeon, Mal’s grateful. Especially when he wins beautiful, submissive, firmly closeted Kyle Bingham in a charity slave auction.

College grad Kyle hasn’t earned enough to move out of the loft his conservative, homophobic parents bought, much less to buy any of the other things still in their name. When he’s won at auction by the hot, amazing Mal, he’s shocked that anyone would want him. No one else seemed to—not his parents, his former Doms, or any of his disastrous dates.

But Mal does want him and Kyle lets his guard down, only to be outed to his parents. With his world crashing down, he must find a way to trust Mal—and their developing relationship—or risk losing everything.

To all those who never see themselves as beautiful…

Please remember this novel—like all fiction novels—is not a manual on how to “do” BDSM and that there is no One True Way. For every couple—or more—engaged in some form of BDSM, there is a different way of doing things: different preferences, roles, likes, limits, and so on. What is portrayed within these pages is only
one
couple’s way of exploring a BDSM-based relationship and what works for them will not work for someone else.

Though I strive to accurately and positively portray the BDSM lifestyle in all my fiction, it
is
still fiction. I endeavor to show “Safe, Sane, and Consensual” or “Risk-Aware Consensual Kink” play and make it clear when what I am showing is
not
one of these. But I am not perfect. While I participate in the lifestyle, I am well aware that I do not know everything—far from it. Even after all the years I’ve been involved, I am learning and will continue to do so for many years to come.

Please keep these things in mind as you enjoy
Beautiful boy
. Always,
always
, research thoroughly any play you wish to participate in. And remember to keep it Safe, Sane, and Consensual, or within the realm of Risk-Aware Consensual Kink.

Mal

“ARE THERE
any
stores that don’t decorate for this damned holiday?” I grumbled, stepping around another display of ornaments. “Or this fucking
early
? It’s barely
November
.”

All I wanted to do was collect the groceries I needed and get home, away from the repetitive music, garish displays, and ridiculous cheer. Because I certainly didn’t have anything to be cheerful about. I hated this time of year. All it did was remind me of what I’d lost, what I didn’t have, and what I’d never have again.

I moved through the store with single-minded determination to avoid as much Christmas stuff as possible. I kept myself focused on the things I needed, and within a very short time, I was moving through the self-checkout.

Just as I was about to escape, arms wrapped around me from behind, and I groaned. Only one person would risk doing that; only one person could get away with it.

I sighed. “Cam,” I growled in warning.

“Mal,” he mimicked me, dropping his head onto my shoulder, his blond hair spilling over my arm. “I’m glad I caught you here. I was about to go to your place, but now you can drive me so I don’t have to deal with the bus,” he said, oblivious to my mood. Or maybe he wasn’t. Cam never seemed to care how grumpy I was. He grinned when I turned my head to try to glare at him.

“I’ll drive you home,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint that I wanted to be alone. The glare was wasted, of course, as was the pointed reply.

He dropped a big smacking kiss on my cheek. “I know what’s going on.”

I sighed again and turned around, then realized we were taking up space in the middle of the grocery store entryway. I turned on my heel and headed out the door. I didn’t bother to look behind me. I knew Cam would be following. “What’s going on?” I asked, knowing full well he was about to give me crap for my hermit tendencies at this time of year.

“You’re hiding again. It’s not healthy.”

“What do you know about healthy?” I poked his soft stomach. “You think coffee is one of the food groups. And sugar is the other.”

He laughed, blue eyes twinkling. “Yeah, and? Sammy likes me this way.”

I rolled my eyes. “Duh. Sammy’s the one who bakes up all that sugar at work and happily brings her leftovers home for you to eat.”

“Exactly!” he agreed.

I shook my head and hit the button to unlock the car doors. “Okay, lecture delivered. You can go tell your wife you’ve harassed me for today.”

Cam shook his head. “Nope.”

I blinked at him. “Nope?”

“Nope.” He shook his head again. “I’ve been ordered to bring you home for dinner after we stop at your place.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “I’ve been eating just fine, Cam. You guys don’t have to babysit me. He’s gone. I’ve grieved. It’s been two years. I just don’t want to go out. What’s so wrong with that?”

Cam just laughed, making me open my eyes and glare.

“I fail to find this funny.”

His grin widened. “It’s not funny. But it’s not about feeding you, though Sammy always wants to feed you.”

I grunted in acknowledgment of that.

“It’s about getting you back to the club. When was the last time you swung a flogger, dude?”

I frowned. “You know the answer to that, Cam. I don’t want to. I’ve put my toys away. You know why. We’ve been over this more times than either of us could count.”

He didn’t bother arguing the last part of that, because he knew it was true. “Do you really think you’re going to be able to give that up for the rest of your life? Are you planning to stay alone for the rest of your life too?”

I scratched at my beard as I tried to figure out how to explain it again, or maybe differently. Or something. “No. I’m not going to stay alone. Blake wouldn’t have wanted that. And someday I will find someone. But that… the Dom is gone. I can’t do it again.”

Cam sighed, finally losing his grin, and put a hand on my arm. “Do you really still blame yourself for that? I thought, after all this time, that you’d let that go.”

I hesitated. I’d told him that much, that I blamed myself for what happened, but not the hows or whys. If I told him the truth, he’d realize how flimsy my excuse was for not taking on a new sub, for not playing. But I didn’t lie as a rule, and less so to Cam. We’d been best friends most of our lives and he’d support me, like always, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him. I’d kept this under lock and key for a reason.

I considered it for a long moment, then decided to go for a partial truth, to give him a little more in the hopes he’d leave it alone this time. “I never told you this…,” I said, leaning back against my car. Cam raised an eyebrow, and I cleared my throat. “I pushed him to Stevenson.”

Cam blinked at me. “You… what?”

I nodded. “I pushed him. I’d heard plenty good about the guy—we all had. And, well, while I didn’t say ‘hey, go play with him,’ it wasn’t far off. I dropped his name, hinted at the stuff he did. If I hadn’t, if I’d….”
If I’d been a better Dom. If I could have handled Blake, given him what he wanted, he’d never have gone to someone else. Never would have gotten killed.

“Why?”

I should have known he wouldn’t just accept that. I blew out a breath, then forced the words out before I could change my mind. “I wasn’t enough for Blake.”

“You…
what
?”

I couldn’t look at him. Cam, though as straight as they came, had submitted to me a few times for play. He’d never seemed to have a problem with me as a Dom, and it was probably stupid, but I never wanted him to know this. Even if I never picked up a flogger again, I wanted him to keep the idea that I’d been a good Dom, done for him what he needed. I’d made him fly, and as ridiculous as it was, I didn’t want those memories tarnished by the truth. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle my own sub, the one I’d trained, the one I’d discovered kink with. But it was out now. I had to tell him.

“I wasn’t enough. I sucked as a Dom. I had hard limits he couldn’t handle.”

Cam raised an eyebrow. “You had limits
he
couldn’t handle?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “There were, well, there were a few things he wanted that I wasn’t willing to give him. For one thing… he wanted me to burn him. Not safe pain. Not the stuff I’ve given you. He wanted the kind of stuff that broke skin and left scarred tissue behind. He wanted single tails and bullwhips, stuff I’d never used.” I cleared my throat. “He showed me how much I lacked as a Dom. I pushed him to Stevenson.”

Cam dropped his face into his palm and sighed, then looked up again. “So, let me get this straight. Because he claimed you… what was it? Sucked as a Dom?”

I nodded. That was close enough.

“Because he claimed you sucked as a Dom, he went to someone else. A relative stranger. He agreed to a private scene in a private home for his first time with him, ignoring every safety protocol imaginable, then got himself strangled with a string of Christmas lights by said stranger, who turned out to be none other than a serial killer. And you blame yourself for that.”

I just looked at him for a moment, not quite sure how to take that. Or answer it. I’d never considered it from that perspective before. “Uh….” It was all I had.

Cam simply stared at me. “He was a motherfucking jack-ass-hat of a moron.”

I blinked at him in shock. “What?”

“He was an asshat. Dick weasel. Fucktard. Douche nozzle. Pick your insult.” He shook his head. “And all this time, you’ve been blaming yourself for pushing him to Stevenson? He was the fucking idiot. I thought you
knew
that.”

I couldn’t figure out what to say. That was the last thing I expected to hear. I squirmed inwardly, caught between defending Blake’s memory and wanting, maybe a little too desperately, to believe my best friend.

“Shouldn’t I? Blame myself?” I finally asked quietly.

Cam was shaking his head before I finished. “Oh fuck no. Setting aside your limits for a moment, in the end, it’s on
him
. He ignored the safety protocols. Did you even know he’d gone?”

I shook my head.

“Did he tell
anyone
?”

Again, I shook my head.

“No phone numbers. No checking in. He went home with the guy, alone. Played for the first time, alone.”

I dropped my gaze to my shoes and took a deep breath. A weight I’d been carrying around for two years seemed a lot lighter all of a sudden and I wanted to kick myself a little for not telling my
best friend
—the one I should have known would understand—more than I had.

“All this time…,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

“One more thing,” Cam said, drawing my attention.

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You didn’t suck as a Dom. In all the time we’ve been playing, Sammy’s made me fly a handful of times. You? Every fucking time. Blake’s problem wasn’t that you weren’t a good Dom, Mal. Blake’s problem was that he wasn’t a good sub. He
wasn’t
a sub.”

I scowled. “Of course he was a sub.”

Cam shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. I thought you knew that. He subbed for you because he wanted to play with you. But he told me he’d realized he wasn’t.”

“Well, fuck,” I said, frowning. “Why didn’t he tell me that?”

“Who knows?” Cam shrugged. “Maybe he thought you’d stop playing altogether? I don’t understand why he’d sub for Stevenson if he knew he was a Dom, but maybe he just wasn’t comfortable Domming. Or maybe he was more switch than he told me. Or maybe he never got a chance to play. Or… who knows? But it wasn’t because you sucked. You didn’t.”

While a lot to digest, it explained so much: why Blake never went into subspace in all the times we’d played; why he never seemed content with what we did. It brought up another problem for me, though. All that time, I’d thought I knew what to look for in a submissive, that I recognized submission. If Blake wasn’t….

I cleared my throat and looked up at Cam. “I… I have to think about this.”

Cam frowned. “Mal, you’ve had two years to—”

“Not this. This is… I haven’t thought of
any
of it like this. I need a little time.” Cam sighed, and I knew he was giving in. I stepped back and opened his door for him. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

With a disgruntled look at me, Cam slid into the seat. “She’s gonna beat my ass over this,” he muttered.

When I got in on my side, I snickered. “If you weren’t such a masochist, I’d put in a good word. But you love it and you know it.” I paused thoughtfully. “Maybe I
will
put in a good word and she’ll beat you even harder for it.”

Cam rolled his eyes. “Just drive, asshole.”