Dating Rules And Pretty Fools Ch. 10

Hi guys, thank you for reading!

A big thanks to everyone who commented! MarcLuciFer, Otis's history will be revealed at a very important moment in the story, so please bear with me! cannd, Hudson is just falling harder and harder for Otis, and that's a fact; your comment is much appreciated! Nick, Hudson will really try to take his time with dear Otis, regardless of his impatience (or his own). Anon, thanks a lot!

I hope this chapter gets posted soon, because the last for Chasing Rusty Parker is still in pending.

Have fun reading!

Chapter Ten -- Until You Become Nothing But A Dot

He liked the smell of sex, but not as much as the man lying in his arms, completely abandoned and gone to the world. Hudson brushed his hand through the silky strands of Otis's hair over and over, hating the moment when he would have to wake up his precious charge and send him back to his place with a pat on his delicious rump. He would have to do it anyway. How often had he thought with his dick in his life? Not that many times. But now was one of them, and, if he indulged in this kind of satisfaction too much, there was a high chance he'd get burned.

And not only him. He had a responsibility, whether he liked it or not, toward his nosy neighbor. No, it wasn't a matter of like and dislike, because he liked it too much already. Hence the problem. He patted Otis on the shoulder, lightly at first, and then more firmly. Otis grumbled in his sleep, so unlike his usually over-the-top polite self that it made him laugh. The shaking of his body finally convinced the sleeping beauty to wake up.

Otis blinked and stared at him. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes." Hudson traced the lean curve of Otis's back, still unwilling to let the beautiful man in his arms get up and leave. Again and again, so unlike him. No matter how attractive the guy he slept with was, he didn't care about waffles in the morning and satiated kisses. Once the deed was done, they both hit the road.

"Did I snore?"

Hudson laughed. "Maybe a little." Otis touched his nose in surprise. He was way too easy, so Hudson laughed more. "Not really. You are a very polite guest, even when you sleep."

"Thank you. That's a relief."

"Why so?" Even making casual conversation of the strangest kind filled the space of the dingy apartment to such a degree that Hudson didn't want to allow his guest to take his leave.

"According to certain commercials, your spouse might file for divorce if you don't solve your snoring problem."

It was so like Otis to pay attention to commercials and take them at face value. So he decided to offer a reply that would be in line with the same reasoning. "Even if you snored, we wouldn't be in any danger. In order to get a divorce, we'd have to be married first." Otis's candid stare was just too much. Hudson pinched his smooth cheek and kissed his nose. "I'm afraid I need to take you back to yours. I assume you need your beauty sleep just as much as I do."

"No amount of sleep will help," Otis delivered in a convinced tone.

"Help what?" Hudson asked.

Otis didn't reply, but the way he pulled his bangs over his left eye left no room for guessing. That wouldn't do. They weren't strangers anymore, were they? He raised his hand and brushed the blond bangs out of the way. "You're beautiful as you are, Otis."

Otis looked to the side. How could a grown man like him still feel embarrassed when given compliments? Well-deserved compliments, on top of it all. "Don't ask me," he murmured.

"I won't," Hudson promised. Was it a burn scar? It pulled at the skin around it and the raised aspect, as well as the coloration, reminded him of what he had seen before in some victims from a case a long time ago. What could have caused it? Otis had no other similar scars on the rest of his body, which made the detective in him imagine horrendous scenarios. That scar could very well be the result of a deliberate wound cause by a hot object held against the skin.

A wedge was splitting the comfortable space they had been sharing up until now, and Hudson regretted it, although he knew that it was for the best. "Come on," he said, "let's get you dressed and back to your place."

Otis didn't protest. He kept his eyes down as he carefully put each article of clothing back on he had removed only earlier with so much shy enthusiasm. Hudson batted his hands away and buttoned him up. When he reached the last, he caressed the heart-shaped buckle.

"Do you want it back?" Otis asked.

"No. Why would I?"

"Because I'm not completely honest with you. I can't--"

"It's all right," Hudson interrupted him. If they got into any competition who was the less honest between them, Otis would lose by a landslide. "And this," he said, caressing the leather strap and only slightly touching the skin above it, "looks way too nice on you to take it back."

"Thank you," Otis said primly. He put his hands by his side, fists closed.

Hudson recognized the signs. So, he took the clenched hands into his and watched as the expression on Otis's face changed as he kissed one and then the other. "I'll take you to your apartment."

"I live only a few doors away," Otis protested, too meekly to mean it.

Hudson knew what was happening with him, too. He was a dog sniffing a scent. He wanted to know more about Otis. He could lie to himself that it was for the sake of his investigation, to get to know his neighbor intimately enough to uncover his secrets, such as what could have caused that scar he tried so hard to hide. What importance could that have for his detective work? None whatsoever, but it didn't stop him from taking Otis's hand in reassurance. "Just let me get some pants on."

***

Hudson wanted to know about the scar. Of course, anyone who got close, mostly by accident, was dying to know how he got it. 'Dying to know' was a very strange expression; nobody really died while trying to gain knowledge of various things, unless it was to identify what mushrooms were poisonous and which weren't by means of ingesting them or something similar.

He wanted to be alone and touch the old scar again. He hated it but knew that he wouldn't ever get rid of it. Lies, he could tell plenty to himself. But it wasn't fair to get rid of it, even if he had the money to do so, even if he revolted against it and what it stood for.

Hudson was so nice and neighborly, to want to take him back to his apartment, to ensure that he got there safely, the way people did when they cared. He wanted so much to experience that feeling more, to revel in it, to bottle it up if he could and keep it for later. The pressure of the heart-shaped buckle against his throat reminded him of the beautiful gift Hudson had given him tonight.

This was safer than he had felt ever since grandma had passed away. She had been so kind to him, contradicting him even though he knew he was to blame, only because of the goodness of her heart. But she must have been lying, or otherwise, why couldn't he be convinced of the truth of her words? She was lying because she loved him and she didn't want to see him sad all the time. So many days, in the beginning, dragging him out of his room so that they could eat together and listen to the radio and even dance when a waltz came on.

He shook his head. The more he thought of her, the sadder he became tonight. He remained turned away while Hudson put on a pair of jeans and one of his skin-tight t-shirts. He welcomed the warm hand on his shoulder. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell his new friend everything and leave it up to him to judge and decide whether Otis was still someone he wanted to be friends with.

That begged the question. "Are we going to be friends?"

Hudson laughed softly. "I like to think that we are there already. What remains is to become even better friends. What do you think?"

Otis nodded eagerly. "Yes, I would very much like that."

***

Friendship wasn't exactly what he had in mind when looking at those plump inviting lips and that hypnotic eye. Yet, it had to do. He was getting too close, as things stood.

Otis opened the door to his apartment and then half-turned toward him. "Can you still drink coffee at this hour?"

"I'd better not. Wait, are you asking me to pay you a little visit?"

"Yes," Otis confirmed. "I don't have coffee anyway. I will bring some from work."

"Just for me?" Hudson asked.

"Yes."

He wasn't surprised anymore. So no, no one was allowed to snatch this precious boy from his grasp, for as long as he could help it.

As soon as he was inside, he noticed the large mirror leaning against the wall. Otis avoided it with seemingly practiced ease and then stopped. "I'm sorry about the mess. I guess it needs to be put on the wall, but I don't know how to do it."

"I'll help you," Hudson promised.

He followed Otis into his small bedroom. It was sparsely appointed, and only the good taste in pastel colors for the few furnishings in it saved it. There was barely any room to maneuver, and the credenza he had brought in that day only caused the space to shrink even more. It wasn't his place to comment on Otis's choices for interior decoration, although he doubted that was what motivated his neighbor to make such choices. What had he said that day? That he needed to bring in some beautiful things?

The next thing he noticed was the array of various glass figurines that took up a thin shelf. He carefully picked one up and looked at it; it was a tiny mouse staring up with begging eyes, a small piece of cheese between its front paws. To observe all those details, he needed to bring it close to his eyes, that incredibly small the glass figurine was.

"That cost a real fortune," Otis said with pride in his voice.

"Oh. I should put it back then," Hudson replied. He had no idea how much a thing like that could cost, but he didn't want to break Otis's heart by breaking it by accident.

"It's all right. I can tell you are very careful with other people's things." Otis came close to him and began pointing at the other miniscule figurines. "That pig, I got three months ago. It was a good week at work and I had plenty saved from before. And that crocodile was a real steal. I bought it at a 21% discount."

"They are so small," Hudson expressed his astonishment. "You know," he joked, "for someone into the heavy stuff like you, I was expecting something else from your bedroom."

Otis put the tiny mouse back as it were and stared at him in surprise. "What do you mean? What heavy stuff?" Hudson pointed at his neck suggestively. Otis touched his choker. "Is this heavy stuff? You didn't let me have the studded one."

"You're not a vicious dog to train you with that kind of thing," Hudson replied, playing into dangerous territory as if nothing else mattered.

"Hmm," Otis grunted and pursed his lips. "Is it bad to be easy to train?"

They weren't supposed to be having this conversation. They were just coming from the hottest sex Hudson had had in weeks, no matter how tame it must have seemed compared to his usual man on man action. He turned the conversation toward safer topics. "Why do you like these things so much?" No one had a collection of animal figurines smaller than a human fingernail without having a real appreciation for that sort of craftsmanship.

Otis leaned over to observe his treasures up close. "Don't you think it would be nice? To be so small that you could move through the world without getting noticed? And then, when someone wanted to look at you, really look at you, they'd notice all the little details about you? I have a magnifying glass if you want to look at them some more," he added while straightening his back.

"Another time. I hope you'll invite me over more often now that we're not strangers anymore." Hudson smiled to reassure his eccentric neighbor of his best intentions.

"Without a doubt."

For a few moments, they stared at each other, saying nothing. Hudson caressed Otis's cheek slowly. "How small do you wish you could be?" Otis stared back, unblinking. That was another unnerving thing about him, but Hudson was getting used to it. "As small as that mouse? Don't tell me you'd wish you were invisible."

Otis shook his head slowly. "No. But small enough to forget."

That must have been a slip of the tongue because as soon as the words left his mouth, he pursed his lips and looked away. Hudson pulled him into a hug and a kiss. "Good night, Otis. See you around."

***

Otis lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time after Hudson was gone. No one had come into this room before. It wasn't the right place for having someone over. There was no space to sit, except on the bed. And if they sat on the bed, together, that meant--

He touched the heart-shaped buckle again. He loved it. Grandma had always made such a big fuss of his birthday. She'd loved going all out, cake and decorations, and, of course, the gifts. One thing he hadn't said to Hudson earlier was that the oldest piece in his collection, the blue seahorse, had been a present from her. She had told him at the time that seahorses were symbols of good luck, and he had believed her. That had been the last of his birthdays they had spent together. Afterward, she had fallen ill, too ill to bake him cakes and buy him beautiful glass figurines.

Hudson said they were friends now. He believed it desperately; not just trying to believe it. Grandma had used to say that, too; that you needed to believe in things, such as seahorses that meant good luck. That must have been why he had met Hudson. Yes, sometimes, it was enough to believe.

***

He was a man with a job now. Watkins had established a routine for him, and he was in charge of populating the business' website with artistic pictures of the models, in all sorts of racy getups and postures. That was the easy part. As long as he had to deal with people like Angel, who seemed to know exactly what they were getting themselves into, he could guard his emotions well.

That wasn't the case at the moment. He hadn't seen Jasper since he had left him in tears that night. He had tried to ignore the plea in the watery eyes, steeled himself against it because he couldn't blow his cover just because the boy ended up getting used more than he thought he deserved.

He adjusted the focus on his camera, while Jasper lay on the red sofa in front of him. The crimson velvet made his pale skin appear vulnerable. The shadows of veins underneath the skin caused him to look like a statue slowly being brought to life. His eyes were red, the lids inflamed, and the marks around his neck from when Angel had choked him while holding one knee pressed hard against his crotch were still visible.

"Are you all right?" Hudson asked, pretending that he still needed to fiddle with the camera.

Jasper closed his eyes and then turned his head toward the door, his eyes wide. Like a startled animal, Hudson thought. "Yes," he replied in a meek voice and faked a smile.

"Do they hurt?" Hudson asked, pointing at the marks around his neck.

Jasper touched them gingerly and winced as he pressed one with the tip of his forefinger. "No."

Another lie. And his eyes kept darting toward the door, as if he was expecting someone to burst through at any moment and hurt him. With steady moves, Hudson walked over and opened the door. He stepped outside and looked to both left and right. There was no one there. It didn't mean that invisible eyes weren't watching them. He expected it. Jasper, in his ignorance, must have had no idea of where to look.

He returned and closed the door. He leaned over Jasper, crowding him under the pretense that he was explaining to him how to pose. When he was close enough, he whispered in his ear. "After our little session here, meet me at the café around the corner."

"Okay," came the barely audible, scared whisper. Once Hudson was back in his place, behind the camera, his tone turned forced and playful. "Want a piece of all this?"

Hudson grinned for show. "I'd rather not. We both have a job to do."

***

He checked his phone for the time. If Jasper didn't appear in the next half an hour, he would have to believe that the young man hadn't understood the real message hidden behind their small secretive exchange in the red room. For now, patience was required.

He had chosen a table as far from the windows as possible. Getting chummy with boys he intended to wrangle out of the hands of those suspicious individuals wasn't something he wanted to be known for. One thing that helped was how crowded the place was at that hour. And he had kept his jacket on to hide his tattoos. The personnel seemed too busy taking orders from delivery people and day workers to pay attention to him, but he liked to play it safe.

To his right, an elderly couple was sharing a small cake with a candle impaled in it. They seemed lost in their own world, talking in soft voices and laughing from time to time. What did young people say today? Relationship goals? Hudson shook his head. The other table close to him was filled with a group of hip youngsters that didn't appear to be employed. That explained why they could afford to waste time like this. Still, even that rowdy bunch got up and left after a while.

Hudson was about to call it a bust when Jasper rushed in and searched for him with the jerky motions of a chased rabbit. He got up from his seat and waved at him until the boy noticed him. Jasper drew his head into his shoulders and hurried toward him without looking directly at his table. He was stealing nervous glances left and right and, when he sat at Hudson's table, it was easy to see that he was trembling.

Hudson didn't have to push Jasper into confessing what was going on.

"Man, you gotta help me," Jasper whispered, his eyes pleading, his entire body hunched forward.

"What with?" he asked. If this was some sort of trap, he needed to take his time to read the troubled youngster in front of him.

Jasper blinked a few times, eyes darting to the side, out the large windows, over the elderly couple still indulging in their anniversary cake and quiet conversation. When he turned his head toward Hudson, his eyelashes were wet. "Those people are crazy," he whispered.

"How so?" Hudson asked in the same icy tone.

Jasper threw him an incredulous look. He pulled back a little. "Did you want me here so you could screw me?" he asked.

There was real hurt in those eyes. And desperation. And terror. Hudson didn't need any other confirmation. If he was reading this one wrong, Jasper deserved an Oscar and needed to ditch his porn career for Hollywood. "No. I wanted you here to hear why you're so scared."

Jasper hesitated. Now he was the one suspecting Hudson. "You're not with them, are you?" He leaned over the table again. "You don't seem to be... I mean, they just hired you, right?"

Hudson gestured for Jasper to come near. He pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. "Sit by my side so we can talk."

The boy obeyed without making a fuss about it. His shoulders were still hunched, and he moved like a scared, beaten dog. He slid into the seat next to Hudson, pressing against him. He looked down and began talking rapidly. "I thought they just liked to play rough, you know? I mean, you've seen Angel. He's a demented fuck. He almost killed me that time. I swear to God, if he'd done it, they wouldn't have cared."

"Slow down, Jasper. Tell me what you've heard."

"How do you know I've heard something?"

The hesitation and lack of trust were natural. However, now that he had the confirmation that something was happening at Twinlight, Hudson didn't want to dally. "Call it intuition. Come on, man, you look like you're about to jump out of your skin. Tell me everything. I will help you."

"Do you promise? Can you?" Jasper asked in a pleading voice.