Pretty Dogs (Dirty Strays, #2)

by Riley Nash

“I am a man. I can give myself a fucking shot, Beck.” He coughs a quiet, dry laugh. “I’ll tell you a secret, Dal. Men are pussies.”

“Did you get the seeds planted?” he asks in a subdued voice as he pinches the skin on my thigh. “The soil’s shit on this property, and I waited too late. None of them are going to grow.” The pain I’m braced for never comes. Before I know it, he’s capping the needle and unscrewing the empty syringe. “Maybe there’s a tough one. You’ll find a little sprout growing out of a crack in the rocks in a few months.” “That would be called a weed, Beckham.”

“I’m sorry, Dal,” he whispers, his lips moving against my skin. I grit my teeth and glare into the dark. “Words don’t fix anything.” His hushed voice breaks a little. “No one’s gonna give a shit when I die. But I’ll miss you so much.”

“I won’t miss you, Beck. I won’t be able to. When you die, I’ll be too ruined to feel anything ever again. Does that make you happy, you selfish dick?” A soft sound rumbles in his throat, halfway between a growl and a whine, as he rubs his face harder into my neck. “Yeah, it does.”

“Beck…” His name means so many things to me. I yelp it when I’m about to slip and fall in the woods, so he can grab my hand. I mumble it into his chest when I’ve had a terrible day and need to watch TV together in his bed. Sometimes I hum it soothingly when he’s getting too loud and frustrated, so that he’ll look in my eyes and take a deep breath. Right now, I don’t know what I’m saying.

“Pretty boy,” he murmurs. “You ever kissed someone?” “No.” I’ve never told the guys that I’m a virgin. When they talk about sex, I keep my mouth shut and let them assume things. Now I look like a fool. But he just sucks in a breath, his fingers tightening. “Good.”

“You think I don’t see you watching me when I pick up heavy shit?” he teases next to my ear. “It’s because you don’t lift from your knees and I’m waiting for you to throw your back out.”

“You’re scared,” I whisper in awe. He nuzzles his face roughly into my hair. “I’m never scared.” Pulling back so I can see his eyes in the moonlight, I curl my fingers into a fist over his heart. “Make it two rules, Beckham. You never fucking leave me, and you never fucking lie to me.”

“You own me, baby,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll do anything.”

Beck buries his face in my neck and shudders when I press my palm lightly against his bulge. I can feel every detail and contour of his thick, heavy erection–his curved shaft and the pronounced ridge of his head. The fabric against my skin feels wet. “Dal, I can’t–” Beck melts against me with a choking sound when I slide the heel of my hand down the stiff ridge of his shaft, then back up. I can’t stop myself from doing it again, and again. He gasps into my neck and spreads his knees, meeting my movement with small, needy twitches of his hips.

I’ve always liked that about him–he’s a hundred times smarter than any of us, but whenever I have an idea, he gives it a try. Except for the ones with fire, driving fast, skateboards, knives, heights, or explosions. So maybe half my ideas.

“I don’t want you to see me, Beck. You’ll never look at me the same, and I can’t lose you. I can’t.” I stare at him, struggling to work out what he means. Everything in his head is attached to everything else in a tangled web. My head is full of boxes–I open one, take out a single thought, hold it for a while, then pack it away. Sometimes I go for a whole day without opening any boxes. “But I see you all the time. I love seeing you.”

“All the shit you’re attracted to, all the porn you’ve bookmarked with the massive cocks, the stuff you told me about how you like to play with a guy’s balls?” He gestures bitterly to his lower half. “None of that. Zero. You know all the shit you aren’t attracted to? That literally turns you off? Congratulations.”

The guys I’ve fucked, the porn I’ve watched, it’s all carelessly dumped together into one messy, fun box I open when I’m bored or need to get off. Dallas is in every single box. He’s the world around the boxes, he’s the boxes, he’s everything.

I love my best friend, with his hair and his smile and the body that fits against mine. But his soul could be inside anyone or anything and I’d still need him until the day I die.

When I pinkie promised not to leave him, that shit stands for eternity. The boy couldn’t get rid of me if he fucking begged on his knees, if he moved across the world and didn’t leave an address. That was just as true before I kissed him as it is now.

“Time isn’t going to change the answer, Beck. Even if I could afford bottom surgery, I can’t turn into what you need.” “How the hell do you know what I need?”

I’ve heard of people building emotional walls to protect themselves, but this guy just erected an entire fucking maze between us out of sheer panic.

We both have hang ups. Your dick isn’t a dealbreaker for me, but if my issues are a dealbreaker for you, I’d get it.” Pulling in a shaky breath, I try to keep my voice firm. “I don’t know how I’d live with you falling in love with some other guy, but if that’s what you truly wanted…”

“Everyone is dirt, Beck,” he mumbles, mostly asleep. I smooth a hand over his hair, stroking it back, and kiss his forehead. “Not you, pretty boy. You’re space dust. All the colors in the universe.”

My last sleep-addled thought as I sit up and push my hair out of my face is: How am I going to tell my future partner that Beck will kill them if they try to touch my hair?

I don’t want someone who overlooks my body because they like my personality, or because they’re trying not to be transphobic. I don’t want to be settled for. Every single person deserves to be desired, wholly and passionately, exactly as they are.

I look up from putting tea leaves in my You can’t scare me, I have three sons mug Beck and Scout found at a garage sale.

I desperately need fresh air and a chance to clear my head in a place that Beck hasn’t held my hand, or kissed me, or pinned me to the fridge.

“Are we ready to go sic the world’s biggest dog on an innocent child and his kitten?”

Beck slides off the chair, his eyes dropping to take in my oversized flannel. The man wouldn’t know fashion if it hit him in the face with a frying pan, but he’s the only person who takes a moment to appreciate my outfit every day, without fail.

“Freezing up and crying made me a hero.” He shakes his head firmly. “Crying doesn’t make you less brave.” I huff out a skeptical breath. “I’ll try to internalize that, but it might take a while.”

“You know the saying about a bird falling in love with a fish, and they don’t have anywhere to live?” His right eyebrow creeps up as I keep babbling. “But imagine instead that a bird falls in love with another bird, but that bird doesn’t have wings. And the first bird’s favorite thing to do is fly, but he’s like ‘It’s okay, bird friend, I don’t mind sitting on the ground with you.’ Then the second bird doesn’t know if he’s actually saying that because he means it, or just because he’s trying to…I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

Just when I think I’ve lost him again, he sighs and rubs his forehead. “You’re kidding, right?” “Huh?” I blink at him. He exhales a faint, incredulous laugh. “Dallas, I can’t talk. Not when Scout needs to have an important conversation. Not when we’re doing a kink that requires communication, or when I know he desperately wants to hear me call him sir. Not when we’re filming porn that would make more money if I could speak. It doesn’t pick and choose convenient times. Usually it happens right when he needs me the most.”

He waves off my apologies with a slightly impatient hand. “Whatever that shit was with the birds, the answer is that I can’t know. If it weren’t for me, maybe Scout could have ended up with someone better, who wasn’t missing parts. But every word out of his mouth and everything he’s ever done tells me I’m what he wants. And the fact that it doesn’t make sense, that it goes against logic? That’s his problem, not mine. My job is just to believe him.”

“We have a camper in the trees a few miles down river; you can walk there before dark if you start soon. Just, uh, don’t let Calvin look under the bed.

“But what do you want from us?” “You’re gonna get three answers to that,” Scout offers drily. “I’m going to say that I don’t want my food stolen from my own driveway anymore. My boyfriend thinks his dog needs a kitten to play with. And this one–” he nods at me “–will say that we don’t want your brother getting hurt after you fought so hard to keep him safe.” He pauses for a beat, and his voice softens. “All three of them are true.”

The man’s clean clothes have already gotten ruined with dirt and sweat that I’m going to have to try and wash out. His wild grin is too goofy and his laugh is obnoxiously loud and he’s so, so perfect. Too many feelings swirl around in my chest when I look at him. Thinking about last night still turns me on, but the lust is consumed by something so much bigger it feels like a force of nature. I love him, desperately and utterly. I always have, even before it had a name.

Maybe this feels so confusing because moving from love to lust is backwards from how it’s done in stories. Lust brings so many complications–my body, my virginity, learning a new language with each other. That’s the scary part, where we don’t have a road map or any assurance we won’t ruin everything. But nothing could ever stop me from loving him.

“Speaking of things no one actually says,” I comment finally, “we are not the four coolest guys in town.”

“You’re a good man, Beckham Alexander,” he whispers breathlessly. A hard knot in my chest tightens. All I’ve done lately is lie and hurt people. “I’m not–” “No, stop.” He rests two wet fingers against my mouth. “You are a good, good man. I haven’t found answers for the parts of this that scare me, but I’ve decided I don’t care anymore.”

This boy is my soul.

I prop my hand against the mirror next to his head and lean in, my dick brushing his leg. He had his first kiss last night and his second one like thirty seconds ago, but he’s already a hungry little thing for it, tilting his head and parting his lips eagerly. I stop an inch away, studying his face, then pull back a little. “You’re mine now,” I whisper. “And I can make you wait.” When I straighten up, his cheeks have gone bright red. “You’re such a massive shit sandwich,”

He covers his cheeks with his hands, like he’s trying to hide his excitement from me. “I will never in a billion years be able to guess what shit you’re going to come up with next. But I love that about you.” “I’ll remind you of that next time I wanna build a flamethrower skateboard.”

“It’s cute that you think you could leave after you just gave me permission to hunt you,” I murmur, brushing my thumb through the hollow of his throat as he goes still underneath me.

His low hum goes straight through his body into my ear, and his grip in my hair tightens a little. “So first of all, I always wrap up my dick, and I’ve been getting PrEP from the local community clinic. So can I fuck my cum into you or no?” I close my eyes and groan as my cock throbs. “God. You’re welcome to try, if you can catch me.”

“I can’t come without a vibrator.” His thumb presses against my jaw, turning my face back to his. Something wild is prowling just behind his green eyes. “That’s hot, pretty boy,” he murmurs, his smile widening. “You’re gonna wish you didn’t give me that power.”

The deeper the night gets outside the window, the more our bond slips into something more fundamental than words–scent, heat, instinct. I’m aware of his faster, stronger body next to me, the hint of his sweat, and the realization that he won’t let me leave this night as a virgin unless I safeword.

I prop my forehead against the paneled wall, wondering when I last changed the batteries in the vibrator, whether Beck has a plan or not. I’m going to trip and break my ankle and have my foot amputated and lose my job and become homeless and die alone, all because I can’t have sex in bed like a normal person.

My hands feel numb as I dig through my closet, trying to figure out the dress code for losing your virginity in a pile of pine needles.

When I turn back around, Beck is standing about ten feet away from me, shirtless and oh so patient with his hands in his pockets. He’s not even breathing hard. He smiles, teeth flashing in the dark. “Hey, little rabbit. You sound tired.” My heart climbs up into my throat. Earlier, I wondered if this game would even work when the hunter is my best friend and safe space. Right now, I barely recognize him. He’s all danger, and every neuron in my prey brain screams at me to run. Before it’s too late.

Breathing hard through my nose, I let his big fingers into my mouth, slick with the sharp, musky taste of my own precum. As a trans man, I’ve lived a life of dissociation from every aspect of my body. The intimacy of tasting myself for the first time is like an electric shock.

A shocked, vulnerable sound bursts out of him, not a predator but just a boy who felt the person he loves lick his cock for the first time.

But there’s nothing except his bruising grip and the sound of his breath as it slowly starts to fracture, until he’s gasping out soft, moaning sobs with each stroke. Until he breaks and starts saying my name, again and again. What started as pain and degradation becomes my helpless body surrendering until I’m seconds from coming again without any stimulation on my dick, just from hearing him beg for me like that.

Folding his body over mine, he buries his face in the back of my neck and speeds up until he’s blindly rutting me like an animal in heat. I can feel when he starts to come, but he doesn’t stop jerking his hips, fucking his cum deeper into me until his body finally gives out.