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“Fuck,” Clint whispered against his neck. “You okay, Scotland?”
He couldn’t feel most of his limbs, his back was on fire and he was pretty sure he was leaking cum-laced ice water all over their sheets. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so green.”
Clint chuckled, kissing the top of his head before curling around him. He liked to snuggle, something that Scotland absolutely loved.
“You okay? With the fire, I mean?” asked Scotland, a tendril of worry creeping in. They’d been working on Clint’s anxiety about fire for months, but that was a whole different ballgame to the scene.
“I was scared at first,” said Clint, rubbing his face into Scotland’s chest. “When I lit the first one, I thought I was going to have a heart attack—until I touched you with it. I remembered what it was like to have control over something that is completely uncontrollable—both you and the fire. I feel fucking invincible right now.”
“Me, too,” said Scotland, brushing his lips over Clint’s head and humming at the smell of his own shampoo. “Did you set the alarm? I have to be back to feed the boys in the morning.”
Clint grunted before nodding. “I figured I could go with you. Maddy offered to look after things for a few days when I told him about our scene. I could help with chores and stuff.”
Scotland hummed under his breath. “That sounds fucking perfect, love.”
