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When Clint answered, Scotland had to swallow to keep from drooling. The man was shirtless, his track pants hanging low and loose and showing off a dusting of hair above his groin. The lump just below that hair looked impressive, even if it was hidden away. The extent of the scars was a surprise, though.
Of course, he’d heard the stories about the burns, but he hadn’t expected so many, the skin shiny and pink in a swirling pattern. He’s so strong. To have survived something like that was a miracle.
“Hey,” said Clint, scratching his belly as he took a step back to let Scotland inside. He turned, showing off the perfect dip of his back where a few prickles of sweat had gathered. Below that was the soft roundness of his perfect ass that flexed as he moved.
Scotland simultaneously lost the fight not to drool or get hard. His plan fizzled away to nothing as his mind went blissfully blank. Clint’s nipples were that brown shade of rose that made his lips ache to suck and nibble at them. They would fit in his mouth perfectly one at a time, and they would glisten as he worshipped them. He could imagine the salty taste of Clint’s skin, and the smell of his sweat as he dragged his nose over the plane of his chest.
“H-hey.” Scotland shook his head slowly, trying to break the spell, but it clung tight. He’d never seen anyone so perfect or masculine, the hard lines of muscle just as prominent as the softer bits.
Clint chuckled, trailing his hand over his belly as if he didn’t know how much he was torturing Scotland. I’d pay to be that hand. My entire bank account for a night.
“The stove?”
“Y-yeah. I got it.” Biting his lip, Scotland toed off his shoes and strolled to the stove, the back of his neck prickling as Clint’s gaze followed him. “You should just have to hit the power button, then mode and it will turn on at maximum. The plus or minus adjust it up and down.”
He glanced at the pot of water next to the stove and the clumped and uncooked macaroni noodles within. There was no way he was letting Clint get away with eating cheap pasta on his watch.
“I did all that, but it just kept beeping at me,” said Clint, rubbing the back of his neck as he approached. “I found the book of manuals on the counter, so I followed the directions there. I’m not sure what I missed. I’ve never used an induction stove before.”
Clint was so close that Scotland swore he could feel the heat of him and the whisper of his breath against his neck. Clint was shorter than him, but he was a powerful man with a gaze that was knowing and intimidating at the same time. It was a struggle to keep from kneeling then and there.
“Did you put the pot on the stove first?” asked Scotland, reaching for the pot before setting it on the circular burner. “It won’t start unless the pot is already there.”
The beat of silence and Clint’s ‘oh’ was answer enough.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a lot of people ask me about it. It was just safer to have one like this instead of a gas or electric stove out here.” Not to mention that a tabletop stove weighed about twenty pounds. He’d done most of the work himself, and it had been the easiest thing to carry on his own and get hooked up.
“I was going to throw some steaks on the grill in a second. That’s probably better than mac n’ cheese.” He swirled the pot once, but the pasta remained clumped in one bulky mass. How long had Clint been trying? The pasta looked like it had been soaking in cold water for a while.
“You know you don’t have to do all this, right?” Clint stepped closer, his shoulder brushing his. The touch was nearly electric. There was only one thin layer of fabric between them—a layer that could be tugged off at a moment’s notice.
“I want to,” said Scotland, the truth of his words startling him. “I mean, it’s really no problem.” God, he sounded desperate. One phone call and he could get laid. Another phone call and he could have a fun scene that would take his mind off things. So what the hell is wrong with me?
“I don’t know what Maddy and Derreck said to you, but I can take care of myself. I’ve been cooking my own meals since I was fifteen. I don’t need someone else to do that for me.”
Need has nothing to do with it. “Says the man who can’t start a stove,” Scotland muttered, biting his lip. “Just because you can cook for yourself doesn’t mean you have to. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone take care of you for a bit.”
Sometimes it’s the best ever.
Clint took a step back, a frown twisting his lips. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“Uh-huh.” Clint was a cry for help if he’d ever seen one. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen anyone so sleep-deprived with such a false smile on their face. And Scotland always had that itch to look after someone and he hadn’t gotten to scratch it so long.
“I’m serious,” said Clint, a wary look on his face as he crossed his arms. He flexed his biceps, the rigid muscle jumping.
“So am I,” said Scotland, throwing caution to the wind. “You take care of everyone around you, Clint. You are super sweet to Maddy, Nav and every other sub, and you are like a rock to every Dom. You can only be a rock so long before you start to erode.”
He closed the distance between them, reaching for anything to keep Clint from escaping. He settled his fingers on the drawstring of Clint’s pants, holding the string tight. It was a struggle not to look down when Clint pulled his hips away, the fabric tenting as the string snapped taut.
“Let me treat you to a nice vacation. Let me help you relax while you’re here and cook you a meal or two. Nobody will hold it against you, and I won’t even tell anyone. I just want you to enjoy yourself.”
I can keep my hands to myself. It would kill him a bit, but he could keep things platonic. Clint’s health came first, and if Clint wasn’t going to look after himself, then Scotland was going to do it for him.
“You’re not my Dom, Scotland. This whole ruse isn’t going to bring us together.”
Scotland nodded sharply. I knew that. Even if he wanted that to change. He’d been waiting a long time. He could keep waiting as long as it took.
“I’m not treating you like a sub, Clint. I’m just trying to be nice. When was the last time you took a kind gesture at face value?” He struggled to keep his voice calm. Clint was not going to get a rise out of him. He took a breath, letting it out slowly. “This isn’t about sex or kink.”
