Turncoat by Megan Derr (the false prince series txt) 📕

didn't mean for Countdown to happen, but God's truth, I ain't sorry. That boy is nobody to fuck with. I ain't never seen a civilian turn villain that quickly or smoothly in my life. He's gonna be handy."

"We need all the help we can get," Greg agreed. He finished his milk and put the cup in the dishwasher, then looked around the kitchen as if hoping to find something.

Dixie quirked a brow. "You're twitchier than a spooked rabbit."

"I'm awake and have no way of tiring myself out that won't provoke Byron to murder me," Greg replied with a huff. "Or get me arrested, one way or another."

"I'm impressed you ain't been arrested yet."

Greg flashed a smug little grin. "It's hard to catch someone who can go through walls. I can get three buildings away while they're still trying to find a door."

"Cocky shit like that is why you keep almost getting caught anyway. Is there a break-in of yours that ain't made the news as yet another botched attempt by Whisker to steal this or that? For someone who can go through objects, you sure knock a lot of them over."

"Byproduct of the power, okay?" Greg turned away, shoulders hunched, but not before Dixie saw the hurt look on his face.

Dixie crossed the kitchen in a few long, easy strides and caught him by the shoulder, turned him around. "Hey, I only meant to tease. I'm sorry. I ain't got much room to talk, believe me. You shoulda seen me before I got free of the G.O.D. I was skinnier than you and twice as clumsy."

Greg's face filled with disbelief as he looked Dixie slowly up and down. Meeting Dixie's eyes, he said, "Bullshit."

Mouth curving in a slow smile, Dixie pulled out his phone and punched in the long access code. He reached up to touch the back of his neck, a tiny zing shooting down his spine as he woke his systems. When he could feel the soft pulse that said they were awake and ready, he said, "Archive, family photos. Selfies, folder three."

The phone screen shimmered and flashed as it flipped rapidly through his memory banks before finally pulling up the folder he wanted. Dixie flipped through the pictures and pulled up a photo he hadn't looked at in forever. "Project image." His phone flashed and immediately projected the image he'd selected into the air.

"That's your long lost brother," Greg said. "Also, how the fuck does your phone do that?"

Dixie shot him a look. "I'm an only child, smartass. That was me a couple of years before I finally got free of the G.O.D."

"How did you go from beanpole to mechanic-themed porn?"

"I'm starting to think your mouth gets you in more trouble than your clumsiness," Dixie said with a snort. "Off projection, delete files from phone, go to sleep mode."

Greg pouted. "Seriously, how does your phone do all that?"

"We ain't done discussing that porn comment," Dixie said, catching his arm when Greg squeaked and tried to flee.

Huffing, Greg slowly looked at him and said, "You don't need me to tell you that you're hot."

Dixie grinned. "Never hurts to hear. You still need to burn energy? I think I might have an idea or two."

Greg's fidgeting abruptly stilled, and Dixie liked the hungry look that came over his face a whole hell of a lot. "I'll admit that's my favorite way to get rid of my restlessness."

"I think that's the favorite method of a lot of folk." Dixie tugged him in close and bent to get a taste of that troublemaking mouth he'd been admiring despite himself.

Greg tasted like sugar and vanilla. Must have been in his hot milk thing. Dixie grunted as Greg tried to climb him like he was a damned tree. Skating his hands down Greg's body, admiring the lithe, trim muscle he could feel, he grabbed Greg's thighs and hoisted him up.

Greg tore away from his mouth long enough to mutter, "That's stupid hot." Then Dixie's mouth was being too thoroughly tongue-fucked for him to get a reply in.

Not that he was complaining. The life he led didn't leave much room for things like getting laid, so when sex was an option, he liked it good enough to last a bit. "If we're doing this," he said when he finally managed to make himself pull away, "we'd best pick a room, 'cause Byron will kill us if we fool around in his kitchen."

Greg snickered. "Fair enough. I suppose you can't carry me the whole way, either. Let me down, and your room is probably closer because mine is all the way down."

Snorting at the idea he couldn't carry Greg the whole way, Dixie shifted his hold and hefted Greg up and over his shoulder, laughing at the yelp that elicited—and grunting at the hard pinch to his ass. "Watch it."

"I am, trust me," Greg said with a snicker that was dangerously close to becoming a giggle.

Dixie rolled his eyes and wended quickly through the building to his room. He dropped Greg on his bed, then went to scrounge up the supplies he was pretty sure he had around there somewhere. Aha, there they were. Grabbing them from the shoebox they were in with a bunch of other odds and ends, he threw the condoms and lube on the bed close to Greg's head.

"Off with the clothes," Greg ordered. "Why the hell are you completely dressed anyway?"

Dixie pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it to the floor. "Habit. Around here, if I'm up, I'm dressed. Never any telling when I'm going to have to go, and there ain't always time to grab pants for those of us that can't go through walls."

"I don't remember what we're talking about," Greg replied, rearing up to his knees and splaying his small hands across Dixie's stomach. "You're hot like fire. Literally and figuratively." The muscles of Dixie's abdomen tensed and flexed as Greg chased the words with his mouth, dragging lips and tongue across his skin.

Dixie twined his fingers