Unkinked, page 5
There wasn’t another living soul who would ever see it, either. It was for him—just for him. His phone vibrated as he sent the email.
No cream. This is the only thing that’s going to get me through my week. I’m game any time you want a repeat. As long as you promise not to hold back next time. ;)
Derreck read Maddy’s response, his breath catching as his cock throbbed, a drop of pre-cum soaking into his jeans. Maddy was dangerous—and getting more alluring by the second. Who cared if he was a touch different when he was so fucking perfect?
Same time next week, if you think you can take it. Text me if you start to feel off before then and I’ll do the same.
He hit Send and powered his phone down before sliding it back into his pocket. Glaring up at the tree, he let out a breath as he tried to calm the situation in his pants. He was not going to start digging again until he went soft. He was into kink, but he was not cool with having a boner while he dug a fucking grave. The departed deserved better than that.
* * * *
Maddy
“Take a seat, Madison,” said Mr. Jameson as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his chubby fingers. His office was the largest in the building, and he spent the majority of his time making sure everyone knew it. When he wasn’t spinning in his seat, he paced the hallways, confronting his underlings about tiny details that didn’t matter—like the way someone sat in their chair or how they had their computer screens laid out.
Maddy had overheard a few grumbling employees accuse Mr. Jameson of having a micropenis to go along with his micromanaging. If Maddy hadn’t accidentally gotten an eyeful in the bathroom one day, he would have agreed. As it was, Mr. Jameson was slightly above the average for his ethnicity.
Maddy shook his head, trying not to get sidetracked too early in the conversation. It always confused him how people valued penis size over intellect.
“It’s Maddy, sir,” he said, struggling not to roll his eyes. His boss’s lips turned down. “And I’d prefer to stand, if that’s okay. I slipped on the sidewalk and landed on my tailbone last night.” Maddy shoved his hands in his pockets, pulling his slacks tight over his ass. Yes. They were still there. It hadn’t been a dream.
Maddy’s gossiping coworkers were right about one thing. Mr. Jameson was not worth a pinch of respect. And he definitely didn’t have the balls to intimidate Maddy into taking a seat.
Sitting was the last thing he needed to do with an audience. He could imagine himself groaning in bliss as he slid into the chair, letting his head fall back and his eyes flutter shut as the ache washed over him. He knew it would happen, because it was exactly what had happened every time he returned from the copier and slid into his chair at his own desk.
“As, you know, Madison, this is a professional office. Nicknames are not acceptable.” Mr. Jameson slid his fingers together as he stared up at Maddy, his blue eyes watery and bloodshot. His slim tie looked like he’d borrowed it from a child’s wardrobe, and his shoes were scuffed.
Professional. What a fucking joke. Employees gossiped at the water cooler and doodled on each other’s desks as a joke. He didn’t doubt that they passed each other notes about who was crushing on whom. Food frequently when missing, and the dishwasher seemed to exist in an invisible dimension where nothing ever got unloaded.
“Maddy is the name on my birth certificate. Is that good enough for you, sir?” Maddy failed to keep the edge out of his voice, holding his head high as his boss’s gaze morphed into a glare. “It’s also the name on all my employee information as well as my tax forms and passport. So, I would really appreciate it if you called me Maddy and not Madison.” He would also really appreciate it if Mr. Jameson got to the point, but he couldn’t see that happening any time soon.
“Do you know why you were asked to come to my office this morning?” Mr. Jameson continued as if Maddy was a mute.
It’s high school all over again. Can’t he just tell me so I can get back to class?
“No, sir,” he said instead, glancing away before his eye started to twitch. Being pissed off did that to him, especially if he were busy.
Aww. He grinned as a cute picture that had been drawn with scribbled crayon caught his eye. He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a cat or a cow, but that didn’t matter. Kids were so adorable, even if those ones belonged to his asshole boss. Hopefully his wife wasn’t as dull and condescending, or they would need more therapy than Maddy.
“It has come to my attention that you will be seeking another leave of absence, and I wanted to caution you on that. You’ve just returned from time off, and, as your employer, I cannot constantly grant you time off for your vacations.” Mr. Jameson leaned forward, sliding his hands along his polished desk.
A boulder of ice dropped into Maddy’s stomach as the color drained from his face. He staggered as goosebumps broke over his skin and his breath went ragged. Was the room spinning, or was it just him? He widened his stance as his knees went weak. He should have accepted the offer to sit.
Mr. Jameson continued to speak, but Maddy didn’t hear a word, just a distant garble that resembled something close to human speech. He watched his boss’s mouth open and close, shit pouring out that he would never be able to decipher.
Vacations? He looked down at his hands, watching them tremble before his eyes. He couldn’t feel them—like they didn’t even belong to him. He was a puppet, barely hanging onto his stings as his world came crashing down.
Every ounce of energy that Derreck had poured back into his body seeped away like he had severed his femoral artery.
He knew people talked about him behind his back and speculated on things that were none of their business, but to have his boss throw it back in his face? What was he even supposed to do with that? There was no way he could respond, not without saying something that would cost him his job.
Sweat gathered under the collar of his sweater that was suddenly too tight and too warm for the air-conditioned office. He tugged at it, but it sprang right back against his skin, closing tight around his throat until he could hardly breathe. His chest ached as a shudder racked his body.
What would Derreck think about his leaves of absence? Would Derreck ever lay a hand on him again? He’d been searching for so long for someone who could help him, but it already threatened to slip through his fingers. Kinksters were an accepting bunch, according to the Internet, but so much of what he’d read online had been wrong already.
“I-I have to go,” said Maddy as he turned away, stumbling to the door. He grabbed the knob as his knees threatened to give out. The metal was freezing under his palm, branding his molten skin and pushing a quiet gasp from his lips.
“Do we have an understanding?” asked Mr. Jameson.
Maddy’s escape came to a grinding halt as he peered through the glass beyond the door. People were staring over the tops of their cubicles, their gazes burning into his skin as he was laid bare before them. They were probably the same assholes who had started the rumors in the first place. People got their kicks from the most interesting activities.
“No, sir. We will have to continue our conversation later. I have a few things that I need to think about.” Maddy’s voice quivered like a nineteen-year-old virgin on prom night.
It took him three struggling attempts to open the door before he beelined directly to his office. He ducked his head, watching his feet as the back of his neck burned.
Grabbing for his phone, he slammed his office door and dialed the number that he’d memorized over the last five years. The phone hummed against his ear once before it went to voicemail. He cursed, running a hand through his hair and tugging the sweaty strands hard.
His therapist was probably on the other line, but that didn’t ease the tension in his chest. His hands shook as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He needed them. He needed somebody who would understand him.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He ran the back of his hand across his lips, shuddering as blood from his lip streaked across his skin. He stared at it, goosebumps bursting over his skin as something else inside him reared its ugly head.
He redialed the number, nearly throwing his phone across the room as it went straight to voicemail a second time. His heart thudded in his chest. I’ve been doing so well. Could one person fuck that all up for him? I’m stronger than this.
Derreck. He could call Derreck. He would understand, or at the very least, his voice would take the edge off. Even the thought of his dark, grumbling consonants made Maddy’s hair stand on end.
Maddy dropped down in his chair hard, his breath whooshing out of him as his ass screamed in protest. Fuck, it hurt…but he needed more.
He dialed the number, holding his tongue between his teeth. He wouldn’t bite. He wouldn’t draw blood, no matter how tempting it was.
The phone buzzed in his ear, each pause like the wait on death row.
There had to have been a reason that Derreck wasn’t answering. He had to have had a job, even though he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be stuck in an office building.
Or maybe he saw Maddy’s name and decided not to answer. Derreck didn’t owe him anything.
Or he was with another sub. Someone who could give him what he needed, when Maddy obviously couldn’t.
His panic spiraled with each ring, his chest going so tight that he wanted nothing more than to rip his sweater over his head so he could finally breathe. But they were watching him, their beady eyes peeking over their cubicles in a way that they probably thought was sneaky. They should have pressed their faces to the glass walls that surrounded him, then he would have been able to sell tickets to the freak show.
“Hello?” a garbled voice filled with sleep startled him from his gloom. He cursed as his phone slid from his grip, slamming face down onto the floor as he choked on his own spit.
“Oh shit,” said Maddy as he reached for the phone and tried to catch his breath. The screen was thankfully unshattered, but it was also blank. He must’ve cut Derreck off when he’d dropped the phone.
He slumped in his chair as he slid his hand over the screen. He wasn’t sure why Derreck was sleeping at ten o’clock in the morning, but he certainly hadn’t sounded impressed about being woken up. It was just another thing he’d fucked up in the long line of fuck-ups.
His phone rang in his hand, Derreck’s name lighting up the screen as he stared at it in disbelief. Trembling, he accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello? Maddy?” All sounds of sleep had evaporated from Derreck’s voice. Maddy pulled the phone away from his ear, staring as the timer climbed past ten seconds. What was he even going to say?
“Maddy, you okay? You’ve got me worried over here,” said Derreck, his voice getting louder with each word. Perhaps it was his tone, or the sheer volume that compelled Maddy to press the phone back to his ear and answer.
“Hey, Derreck,” he said, clicking his mouth shut again as he looked down at his desk. Phil Patterson was written at the top of the page under his fingertips. He knew that Phil would be fined at the very least, perhaps worse if he found more evidence. He always found more evidence.
“You sound down. What can I do?” asked Derreck, cutting straight to the point. Derreck seemed like a man of few words, but Maddy wondered if he would have preferred some small talk.
“I don’t know,” said Maddy, sliding the paper back into the folder on his desk. “I’m not feeling great right now. I tried to call my therapist, but they didn’t answer.”
Most people gave him a knowing look when he said he had a therapist. “Oh, you’re one of those people.” Like mental illness or an addiction were on the same level as a hate crime.
“Okay,” said Derreck, his voice even. “We can talk about it, or I can come to you.”
“I…” Maddy’s jaw seized up. Two options were a hell of a lot better than the thirty-thousand scenarios that stretched before him in his mind. But he couldn’t even force himself to talk right now. How much could he not say before Derreck hung up on him?
“I’m coming your way now. What’s your address?” There was a shuffling noise in the background and the phone burst with a second of static.
“I’m at work.” Maddy struggled to get the words through his lips that seemed to have seized. Derreck was coming? He blinked, looking around his office. The world beyond the glass door and walls had blurred, the organized shelves within seemingly inconsequential.
“Where do you work?” asked Derreck, grunting as he did something on the other end.
It should have been an easy question, but the company name refused to come to him. He had worked in the same office for years, but it was gone. He looked down at a half-written address on an envelope that was partially covered by a sticky note. “Three-five-seven Main Street. I’ll meet you at reception.” Swallowing hard, he disconnected the line.
I can do this. His boss wasn’t going to bring him down—not without some dire consequences.
With newfound strength, he rose from his chair, sliding the folder back into his drawer with the other ongoing investigations. Striding out of his office, he held his head high as he locked his door. One of his coworkers perked up as he passed her, but he ignored her questioning look, even as it burned against his skin.
“I have a brunch meeting,” he said to no one in particular, his voice still a bit strangled. Let her spread those rumors and see how far she got.
He took the stairs, deciding to steer clear of the elevator that was bound to be packed with people arriving late to other floors. He was sweating and trembling by the time he reached the main floor, his hands clammy and numb.
At least he didn’t cry—not since his sister’s funeral. With more than ten years of living on the edge, feeling like he might combust at any moment, he didn’t have a single tear to show for it. Some people might think he was strong for it, but he was much closer to desperate than he wanted to admit.
Pushing through the stairwell door, he took a deep breath of the bleach-tinted air of the reception area. There were a few stragglers stumbling through the revolving entrance doors and toward the elevator. None of them looked his way as he leaned against the wall, doing his best to blend in with the modern art sculpture.
The reception area was clean from its daily overnight scrubbing, and minimalist, besides the clunky art. The art itself had been donated, making it perfectly suited for a government building.
The star of the room sat behind the low desk to the side of the door, a ‘please see next attendant’ sign in the middle of her desk. The receptionist herself was one of the grumpiest motherfuckers he’d ever met, and he absolutely loved her. She was also the only attendant, despite the sign.
She gave him a quick once-over as she spotted him leaning against the wall, barely looking up from her bowl of oatmeal. Her inattention was the reason that he loved her. He wasn’t sure if she didn’t give a crap or couldn’t be bothered, but she never got involved in anyone’s business.
She was also completely friendless in the company. There had been talk of firing her, but he had pulled his only strings to stand up for her, just so he could see her unsmiling face every morning and evening. If all else failed, at least she was consistent.
He touched his sternum as he pushed away from the wall, slipping through the door as the last straggler disappeared. The ache had gotten better, but it wasn’t gone. It had been with him for most of his life, and there had only been one short time in recent memory that it had faded completely.
Sweltering heat descended on him like a swarm of hornets, sweat prickling on his skin as the air turned to water in his mouth. He couldn’t believe how some animals survived the heat. At least they didn’t draw the attention of onlookers like he did every time he tugged at the sleeves of his sweater.
He slumped his shoulders as he leaned back against the shaded red brick wall. Unlike some of the modern skyscrapers in the city, his office was a solid twelve-story brick building. It was over one-hundred-years old, according to the date stamped on the brick, and the foundation was probably stronger than most other buildings in the city. The only thing that had worn out completely was the bell to the clock that decorated the peaked roof.
The brick was like molten lava against his covered skin, even in the shaded bit he had chosen. Sweat dripped down his back, soaking into the waistband of his slacks. The ice in his belly hadn’t melted in the least.
Vacations. How could they think that? He glared at a woman across the road as her heels tapped out a steady pattern on the sidewalk. She was wearing a long, flowing dress with a split up the side that almost gave away too much. Everything about her was relaxed, even her long hair that blew in the breeze. Perhaps she was actually on vacation.
Maddy snorted, looking back at his feet. If his leaves of absence had been anything like that, then his problems would have been solved.
The people around him were the unbiased observers that he would normally trust during his investigations. Maybe they were right, and he was just another lazy man taking advantage of the system.
Either way, Maddy didn’t have the right to waste Derreck’s time. He had to get back to his desk and get to work, no matter how much the thought made his stomach churn. It wasn’t the work— no, he enjoyed that—it was everything and everybody else.
“Maddy?”
Maddy blinked, his gaze glued to an ant that was trekking its way across the sidewalk. It struggled as it dragged a dead grasshopper that was at least four times its size, barely making headway as it climbed a crack. It would probably bake on the sidewalk, just like him.
“Maddy.”
A touch on his shoulder seared straight to his skin and he jerked back, smacking his head against the brick as he stumbled. His eyes flew wide, his heart jackhammering as he tried to see who was standing in front of him, their arm still outstretched. The familiar palms and thick cord of muscle of the person’s biceps jogged his memory.
It was Derreck. Oh God.
