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My boy needed downtime after that. I knew he was afraid of men like Alejandro, which was another reason I didn’t want him around the man.
“You did so good, baby boy,” I softly praised him as I kicked our door shut behind us. “I’m so proud of you.”
He snuggled closer to me in response, his blunt nails digging into the back of my neck in his urge to plaster himself to me. But he didn’t say a word, regressing almost immediately. I pressed a kiss to his temple, preparing to take care of him while he mentally recovered.
4
Gabriel
I’d been on edge for days. Ever since Tango informed me that my father and the Russians he was working with were actively trying to bring me back home, I’d been sleeping like shit. Nightmares tormented me. Flashbacks wrecked me. And I hated even more that Tango was suffering because I was. Every time I woke up, he woke up with me, holding me close and whispering soothing words to me until I was able to fall back asleep.
The one I’d had last night had been… horrific. It was the night they stuffed me in that dog kennel. Except the flashback morphed into a nightmare, twisting that horrible night into something even worse.
I’d been forced to hold onto to the bars of the kennel while they dragged my ass out through the door just enough that I could be used again.
And again.
And again.
I’d woken up vomiting and crying for Tango. He was thankfully right there in bed with me still, and he held me close, curling his big body around mine. He’d managed to coax me back to sleep, and I didn’t know when he’d cleaned my vomit off the floor, but when I woke up, everything was clean and the room smelled like the lemon cleaning supplies I’d picked out a couple of weeks ago since I preferred the scent of them.
Sighing, I leaned my head back under the shower head, letting the hot water run over my scalp. I slicked my hair back from my face, wishing the water could wash away my worries as easily as it washed away the dirt from my body. It would be even better if it could wash away my trauma.
But alas, it could not.
Tango’s grunt sounded from the bedroom as I reached for the shampoo. I paused with my hand in mid-air, straining my ears. He grunted again, and my breath caught in my throat.
I knew the sound of that grunt. How many times had I listened, my ear pressed against the bathroom door, while he fucked his fist in the shower? My cock hardened immediately, and I bit back a whimper as I fisted it. My breathing quickened.
I’d imagined Tango fucking me more times than I could count. Owning me. Wrecking me all while he praised me for being so good for him. And I knew he’d make it good. He’d take such good care of me because with me, that was just who Tango was. He was a gentle giant, but only with me. For me. And I so desperately wanted him to be mine. I wanted to be his. And not just in my head. I wanted to be his for the entire world to see.
But Tango would never feel the same way for me as I did for him, and I had to come to terms with that. All I would have of Tango were my fantasies and friendship.
But despite knowing all of that, I quickened my movements, precum leaking from my tip when Tango grunted again. I swallowed a moan as I cupped my balls with my other hand, tugging lightly. That was all it took—cum spurted from my tip, and a gasp ripped itself from my lungs. My ass clenched around nothing, painfully empty, as my cum painted the tile in front of me.
Tears sprang to my eyes, but I swallowed them back, wiping my eyes. I would not cry—not over something as stupid as not being able to have Tango the way I want him.
But was it possible that maybe one day Tango’s feelings would change and he’d love me the way I loved him? Hope blossomed in my chest. There was no stopping it, even if I knew I needed to squash that hope immediately.
I needed to make him fall in love with me, but how did I do that? How did I make a man as grumpy and self-assured as Tango fall for a crybaby like me who suffered from constant panic attacks and had a trauma list that was a mile fucking long?
I sighed and tilted my head back, staring at the popcorn ceiling above me.
I couldn’t make Tango fall in love me. Doing so would be like me being able to kick Gidget’s ass, which was damn laughable. Gidget, one of the club members, was an asshole, he terrified me, and he was also one of the best fighters in both charters. Fuck, I’d heard the story of him putting Halo in ICU during a drunken fight. You’d never know that had happened when you saw them together, acting like brothers and a tight-knit family, but he had.
If this—the way things were right now—was the only way I could have Tango, then that was what I’d have to settle for. I knew it, even if it hurt. My chest ached at just the mere thought of only ever being the boy Tango was taking care of and nothing more.
But I’d rather have him like this than not have him at all.
My mood had significantly plummeted by the time I finished my shower. Sadness hollowed out my chest, and my gut twisted. Tears threatened to burst from my eyes at any moment. I was barely holding it together.
I tugged on one of Tango’s hoodies before walking out of the closet, my towel clutched in my hand. Tango’s hoodie hung like a dress on me, but it gave me some of the comfort I needed. And I needed a fuck ton of it after destroying my mood by realizing Tango would never be mine.
One day, I’d have to watch him fall in love with someone else, and that would fucking kill me. My soul would be obliterated. Nothing would ever be able to heal it.
Tango looked up from his phone, frowning at me. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Quickly, I turned away from him and walked to the bathroom door to hang up my towel on the hook there.
“Gabriel,” he rumbled. I jumped in surprise, spinning around to face him. He was right behind me. I hadn’t even heard him get up or cross the room to me. Tango was silent like that. It was a bit scary at times how stealthily he moved.
