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It looked exactly the same, down to the rusted-out sign that was missing a few letters and the ‘help wanted’ posted in the front window. His heart ached. It had been years since he’d even come close to visiting the neighborhood. Between the club, and well, the club, everything had seemed to blur together.
Scotland was smiling at him, his eyes dark. He’d been quiet all day and had hardly said a thing in the car. Somewhere in those lips was Clint’s answer to the question that had been burning through him the whole time. Anticipation was curled right next to nervousness, but there was no regret.
“Tonight, you call me ‘Sir’.”
Goosebumps prickled over his skin, which was suddenly too tight over his frame. His mouth was dry, words lost as his heart pounded. Yes. He let his eyes fall shut, leaving any worry behind.
Ross flickered over his mind, but only as a memory of his sweet smile. The ache was still the same, but there was something new next to it. It had been a long time since he’d had hope.
“Yes, Sir.”
Scotland reached out, tracing his thumb over Clint’s bottom lip. Dipping the tip inside, he paused until Clint parted his teeth, shuddering as Scotland stroked his tongue.
“You have your safewords, and I trust you to use them,” said Scotland, pinching Clint’s tongue between two fingers and tugging softly. “Any limits for tonight?”
Clint shook his head as much as he could with his tongue trapped. Drool was pooling in his mouth, and he let it fall, dribbling down his chin. Some of the limits he’d given Scotland the last time they’d talked about this probably didn’t exist anymore.
I trust you.
“I only have one rule for tonight,” said Scotland, moving his fingers deeper until he tested Clint’s gag reflex. His jaw ached as he licked Scotland’s fingers, letting his saliva fall. “Anything I ask you to do, you do it without question while we are here. You can brat all you want when we get back to the car. Until then, I need your complete submission. I think you need it just as much as I do.”
Clint hated when Scotland was so fucking right. Ross had always accused him of using his bratty behavior to be defensive. The asshole had always been able to read him.
“Let’s go,” said Scotland, releasing Clint and stepping out of the car. Before Clint could wipe his chin and follow him, Scotland was opening the passenger door wide and holding out his hand. “Let me help you.”
Clint flushed, lowering his gaze automatically as he stepped outside. He’d never been able to meet someone’s eyes when he was in a submissive state, much preferring the view of the floor.
He didn’t release Clint’s hand as they walked to the door past a crowd of teenagers who gave them nods as they approached. It was almost a blockade of sorts, but Clint wasn’t nervous.
“You guys friends of Derreck and Ice?”
Clint blinked, giving the group and the apartment a second look.
“Yeah,” said Scotland, his hand twitching against Clint’s. “I’m not sure who Ice is, but Derreck—yes.”
This is Derreck’s place? Clint had never visited, even though Derreck had been at the bar and his old apartment too many times to count. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Derreck’s beast of a car in the lot. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. It was the only one in the lot that had four of the same tires.
“That guy of his,” said one of the teenagers, scuffing his shoe against the cracked pavement, “he’s a fucking legend, but the first time I saw him I thought he was an ice cream cone. The name stuck.”
“Maddy?” asked Clint, scratching at his cheek. That was classic. Maddy was the most naïve and masochistic man he’d ever met. ‘Ice’ fit him perfectly.
“Yeah.” The kid nodded. “Anyone who can fuck in a graveyard is a legend.”
Clint snorted, leaning against Scotland as he chuckled. Scotland pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around Clint’s shoulders. He fell into the embrace, letting out a sigh. “Why did you guess we’re his friends?”
“You guys all have that same kind of look,” said one of the other teenagers, grabbing his phone from his pocket as it dinged. “Like you know your way around too many things to risk a fight.”
Scotland snorted, flexing his arm. Clint couldn’t tear his eyes away as the muscles of his arm rippled before his eyes, his tattoos stretching and bulging.
The teenager eyed the display, not seeming nearly as impressed as Clint was. “You guys don’t give a shit about where you get laid.”
Clint nodded. “That’s so true.” He glanced up at Scotland, his cheek dragging over the scruff of his chin from how close they were. “We should get badges for the club or something. Like a ‘never have I ever fucked on a rooftop or a movie set’. You’d get a badge for every place. We could do prizes! Oh, Maddy would love that.”
Scotland chuckled, nosing along Clint’s jawline, despite their audience. “I love it when you’re like this. You’re so fucking good.”
The first teenager narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. “That’s another thing, too. You’re always saying ‘good boy’ and ‘Sir’ and other weird shit like that. Dead giveaway.”
Clint’s smile flitted away in an instant, his teeth clacking together as he clenched his jaw. Scotland had gone tense, and Clint rolled his shoulders, shrugging him off. “You’re a kid, so I’m gonna let that last comment slide.”
