The name was an insult, but I owned it, nonetheless, because that’s what I do. I take the hits, and I channel them into motivation, and then I process the rest of the degradation with a little forced obedience.
Still, it warms me to hear him call me something other thanassholeorannoying.
I smirk, a chuckle escaping my throat. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mack Attack.” I slide my hand around his tree trunk of a waist. My palm rests on his hip, and I squeeze it involuntarily as the photographer calls our attention.
Click!
We take a couple group shots, then some individual ones. Austen takes my photo, but when I look at it, it’s lopsided and blurry.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Oh well, guess that’s as good as it’s gonna get with you fucking idiots.”
Austen laughs.
I’m glad he’s having a good time for once, but he’s going to feel it in the morning.
My brother can drink, but he is a bitch with a hangover.
“Let me try,” Mack says, throwing his hand out, palm up. I look at it, watching as the guys make a beeline for the bus, the attendant calling that it’s time to go.
“We have to go,” I say, but Mack grunts, taking my phone.
“They can wait.”
His steady voice makes me stand up straight and scratches the part of my brain that makes me want to obey. People tell me all the time that I’m a loose cannon. A wild card. They say I’m not going anywhere but to Hell. I’ve heard it all my life.
He doesn’t pay attention. He’s not a good listener. He’s too hyperactive and disruptive. He has no focus. No follow through.
Until a few years ago, I didn’t know I could be obedient. Not until I hooked up with a guy who had a kink for domination.
Things just clicked in my brain. The tone of his voice, the tap of a finger. Theorder.
Just because I argue and fight, doesn’t mean I don’t want to listen.
I want the same things everyone else does, and I want to be like everyone else. I don’t want to be likethis.Confused and alone. More than anything, I just want someone to tell me what to do, how to do it, and I want to be told I did a good fucking job when it’s done. But more than anything, I just want to be worth it to someone.
I want to be a good boy, I just need someone who understands how to hack my brain and work with me instead of against me.
Could Mack be that guy?
I sigh, wishing that were the case, but I know it’s not. That’s never going to happen.
In my fucking dreams.
“Now, Alex,” Mack orders, and I realize I have totally spaced out. I fidget with my chain, nodding as I getunderneath the sign. I take one look at the bottom pole and get an idea.
I wrap my leg around it, as well as one hand, and laugh because how perfect is it? I lean back, glancing back at the camera.
“Cheese, motherfucker,” I say, sticking my tongue out as the lights flash. When I’m done, Mack tosses me my phone, muttering something under his breath.
“What’s that?” I ask as he lets me walk ahead of him on the bus.
“You’re an idiot,” Mack says as he climbs the steps to get back on the bus. It takes off, knocking us both onto our asses on the seat, upending me right into Mack’s lap.
“So I’ve been told,” I say as he grunts, shifting his weight as I get a face first view of—
Fuck. That is…
I swallow harshly as I notice the prominent bulge in front of my face that’s certainly not from his phone or wallet.
