Tag Team (4 page)

Chapter 3

T
HE
stifling heat in the room pulled Rig from a deep sleep as sweat rolled down his temples. He grumbled and shoved off the covers. His eyes flew open when the blankets hit the floor with a loud thump, followed by a very not-Bobby-sounding yelp. Rig rolled over and peered down over the edge of the mattress. A dark-haired head popped out from under the covers, hazel eyes glaring up at Rig.

Rig jabbed a finger at him accusingly. “Who the fuck are you?”

“That’s your beach bunny,” Bobby said sleepily from behind him.

Rig turned his head to see Bobby sprawled out on the other side of the bed, rubbing his morning wood with one hand, scratching his chest with the other.

“You want to help me up?” asked a whiny voice from the floor, the tone like that of nails across a chalkboard.

Rig cringed and buried his face in the pillow and cursed. What the hell had he done last night? He remembered him and Bobby being invited to a bonfire, the alcohol flowing, and the cute boys dancing in their speedos and shorts. Rig lifted his head and peered over the mattress again, the stranger still glaring up at him, and now with a hand held out expectantly. Rig didn’t recognize the guy, definitely
not
one of the cute dancing boys. Rig huffed out a disgusted breath and rolled into Bobby’s side.

“Did I fuck that guy?” he whispered against Bobby’s ear and then wrinkled his nose as the aroma of smoke, stale alcohol, and sex filled his nostrils. “Or did you? Christ you stink.”

“So does your breath,” Bobby growled and grunted as he shoved at Rig. “I fucked him, you bottomed him,” Bobby added.

Rig’s head snapped up, and he stared wide-eyed at Bobby, at the same time clenching his ass—no pain—he narrowed his eyes. “The hell I did.” He never… well, rarely bottomed, and when he did, it was only for Bobby. Both of them being natural Doms and tops made it necessary to compromise from time to time; not that he didn’t enjoy being fucked once in a while, but still.

He swatted at Bobby when the bastard started to chuckle and pushed himself back against Bobby’s side, then threw a leg over the man. Bobby hissed when Rig’s thigh landed on his erect cock, and he slapped Rig on the ass. Hard. “Watch it!”

“Serves you right, fucker,” Rig complained and rested his head on Bobby’s chest.

“Is someone going to help me up?” the boy on the floor whined again.

“No! I’m sleeping,” Rig mumbled.

“Would you stop being a grumpy prick? It’s not my fault or Joey’s that you drank so much,” Bobby chastised, but he didn’t try to push Rig away.

“Joey,” Rig muttered under his breath and closed his eyes as the pounding in his head made itself known. After a few seconds, he heard grumbling and bare feet tromping across the floor, but he ignored it. Bobby’s steady heartbeat and the even rise and fall of his chest was lulling Rig back to sleep. The overhead fan blowing a stream of cool air over his damp skin caused him to shudder, and Bobby tightened an arm around him. He’d worry about Joey and his hangover later. Maybe once he had some more sleep, the events of the night before would come back to him. He was not a morning person, never had been.

The second time Rig woke, he found himself alone in bed. His head was still pounding, but at least it wasn’t as hazy as it had been the last time he’d opened his eyes, and thankfully there was no stranger using him as a pillow. Rig stretched, his back protesting with a series of pops, but it still felt good and he settled into the soft mattress and stared up at the white ceiling.

The events of the night before no longer eluded him. He and Bobby had stumbled into the house in the wee hours of the morning with Joey in tow. The original man he’d set his sights on had been waiting for his boyfriend to show up, so Rig had grudgingly settled on the slightly less attractive man but with the same lean, smooth body. Normally Rig hated to settle, but it had been a long while since he and his partner had shared a boy, and dammit they were on vacation. A time to have fun, indulge in excesses of alcohol and pleasures of the flesh. And from what he now remembered, he’d most certainly done both. A few of the details were a bit sketchy, but he recalled enough to know that he’d had a damn good time and he sure as fuck hadn’t bottomed for the twink.

A hot shower, a couple of aspirins, and a couple of large glasses of water later, he found Bobby sitting in nothing but his boxers on the deck of their rented bungalow. “Morning,” he drawled and plopped down in the chair next to Bobby.

“Morning,” Bobby hummed as he sipped from his mug. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” he said and stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and leaned back in the chair, sipping his own hot brew.

Neither of them spoke, both staring off toward the ocean beyond. The beach was deserted. In the distance, dark clouds were rolling in, bringing with them the predicted rain. Rig didn’t mind the coming storm. He’d had enough
fun in sun
the day before, and he was enjoying the cooler breeze from the approaching front. He’d never admit it to Bobby, but the heat and humidity was god-awful the last couple of days. When he’d wanted to force the man to take a vacation, Rig had just picked the first place that came to mind. He loved Florida, but coming in July hadn’t been one of his better ideas. He liked it hot, handled the heat much better than Bobby did, but temps pushing one hundred with a 100 percent humidity was a little extreme.

“I apologized to Joey for you,” Bobby said conversationally. “Told him you just weren’t a morning person and not to take it personally.”

“Thanks,” he huffed. Not that he planned on ever seeing the guy again, but yeah, he had been kind of a dick this morning now that he thought about it. “Where is he anyway?”

“Sent him on his merry way.” Bobby shrugged and set his mug aside and propped his feet up on the ottoman. “Figured with the headache you were bound to have, you wouldn’t want to deal with him when you woke up.”

Rig grunted another thank-you and enjoyed the soothing view and sounds for a moment longer before saying, “Actually I don’t feel too bad. You want me to get dressed and take you out to breakfast? I know you’ve wanted to get some shopping time in. We can make a day of it.”

Bobby gave him an aggrieved look. “It’s past two o’clock. Day’s pretty much over and there is quiche in the microwave.”

“Two?” Rig scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Damn, he’d slept nearly the entire day. “What time did we get in this morning?”

“Five.”

Rig did some quick math—in at five, fucking till six, probably more like seven considering the amount of alcohol he drank—pfft, he’d only slept seven hours, eight max. Hell, he could easily spend another night drinking and fucking. A painful throb started behind his eyes, and Rig pressed his palm against the bridge of his nose, the ache reminding him he might need at least a little recovery time. He took big gulp of his coffee and winced when the hot liquid burned all the way down.

“Good thing you don’t feel that bad, ’cause you look like shit,” Bobby said cheekily, not even trying to hide his smile.

“Partly your fault,” Rig accused. He was feeling better than when he’d first woken but still a bit rough around the edges.
Nothing caffeine can’t get rid of
. He took another tentative sip.

“Oh hell no! You ain’t blaming this one on me. You’re the one who invited Joey home with us.”

The image of Bobby with his head thrown back, thick chest heaving as he plowed into Joey from behind as the twink sucked Rig’s dick, flashed in his mind, and he shuddered with the memory of it. “You complaining?” he asked and gave the man a knowing look.

Bobby stared at him for moment, trying to keep his features neutral, but it was no use; his lip twitched and then curled into a wry grin. “No,” he finally admitted and shook his head. “You want me to show my gratitude by making you a plate?”

“Nah, I’ll go make me one. Why don’t you get dressed while I eat, and then I’ll take you shopping.”

Bobby arched a brow at him. “I said I wasn’t complaining and you shouldn’t be either. You didn’t do anything to make up for, ya know? I had a good time last night and so did you.”

“I remember it,” he grunted and waved Bobby’s comment away with his hand. “I just thought—”

Bobby jerked up and cut him off. “Since you’re feeling all generous, you know what I’d really like to do?” he asked but was staring toward the trees. “Take a walk.”

“There’s a storm rolling in,” Rig reminded him with a nod toward the dark clouds.

“There’s just something I want to check on,” Bobby said seriously with a slight scowl.

“What?”

“Yesterday I came across this guy—”

Rig laughed. “Damn, baby, you still wanting?”

Bobby shot him a dirty look and hefted himself out of his chair, hands on his hips. “Yeah,
baby
, I doubt you could get it up again, so why don’t you bend over the railing, drop those shorts, and give me that ass.”

“Simmer down,” Rig told him with a chuckle. He set his mug aside, went to his feet, and planted a kiss on Bobby’s frowning lips. “You’re so easy. Still want me to drop my shorts, old man?”

Bobby smiled and shook his head, lifting one hand to shove at Rig. “Go eat while I get dressed. I want to take a walk.”

Rig wondered what had gotten into Bobby. Exercise wasn’t high on his list, and thunderstorms were right up there with heat and humidity on Bobby’s list of shitty weather. “Wow, this guy must be really special.” He lifted his brows. “Should I be jealous?”

“Would you stop fucking patronizing me?” Bobby bit out angrily and stomped into the bungalow, tossing over his shoulder, “If you would have listened to me last night instead of drooling over beach bunnies you’d have known why.”

Rig stared in shock after Bobby long after he disappeared inside. Bobby wasn’t normally one to get pissy when Rig teased him. Thinking back now, guilt rolled Rig’s gut. He did remember Bobby saying something about a guy he’d seen, but at the time Rig couldn’t be bothered, focusing on the dancing boys rather than what his partner was trying to tell him. Rig shook his head. He had one thing he should feel bad about. He owed the man an apology.

Bobby was pulling on a T-shirt when Rig found him and wrapped his arms around Bobby’s waist from behind and nuzzled the side of his neck. “I’m an ass,” he said regretfully. Bobby stayed stiff against him. Rig slid one hand up and down Bobby’s belly and chest as he continued to kiss Bobby’s neck until he relaxed against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Mmm hmm,” Bobby hummed, but Rig knew his lover was giving in or at least was going to forgive him by the way he tilted his head giving Rig more access to his neck.

Rig smiled and tightened his hold on Bobby. “So you going to forgive me?” he murmured against Bobby’s warm flesh.

“Are you going to take a walk with me?” he answered with his own question.

Rig made an aggrieved sound in his throat but answered, “Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed Bobby’s hand and laced their fingers together, pulling him toward the kitchen. “But first, come tell me about this kid while I eat.” Hopefully if he stalled long enough, the storm would pass; they rarely lasted long.

Rig brought his heated quiche and another cup of coffee to the small kitchen table. “So when I went for a walk yesterday,” Bobby said as he took the seat across from Rig, “I came across this guy picking oranges.”

“The sub?” Rig asked around a bite of egg. He shrugged at the incredulous look Bobby gave him. “I was kind of paying attention.”

Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes.

“What made you think he was a submissive?” Rig inquired, honestly curious.

“He was collared.” Bobby held up his hand before Rig could even ask the question. “I know the difference between one used for dress up and a true collar. His was well worn and….”

Bobby got a sad, faraway look in his eyes and turned away. Rig knew he was thinking back to their lost sub, but Rig didn’t want to think about that right now. He tried his best not to think too much on the subject of Stephen, the memories still painful even after all this time. He gave Bobby a moment to deal with his own feelings, then quietly asked, “So tell me about this boy? What was it about him that captured your attention?”

Bobby rubbed at his eyes and then met Rig’s once again, his expression solemn. “I found him on his knees picking up oranges off the ground. I was only going to say hi, you know, be neighborly, but when he looked up, I could tell he’d been crying.” Bobby shook his head. “Jesus, Rig, I have never seen sadness like that in someone’s eyes. It broke my heart. When he noticed me he scrambled and fell back and I tried to offer to help him up, but the sadness disappeared and there was true fear in his eyes.”

“You think his Dom is abusing him?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. He was wearing a pair of skimpy shorts and a tank top; trust me, I got a good look at his body and I didn’t see a single bruise, not even any signs of restraints, nothing.”

Rig hummed and pushed the crust around on his plate as he thought about what Bobby told him. “Maybe verbal or emotional abuse,” he pondered out loud.

“Could be,” Bobby agreed. “I could have probably rationalized the sadness, but the fear?” Bobby sighed heavily and shook his head again. “I can’t explain the fear. I just want to go check on him. Make sure he’s okay.”