Page 8 of Never Forget

No feelings.

No public signs of affection.

No affection at all unless it’s under the guise of aftercare. That’s an unwritten rule I had to learn the hard way. Skimping on aftercare is a hard limit for me, so I get that much at least.

No sleepovers.

Of course we have our list of hard and soft limits– no scat play, nothing that causes significant or visible bruising, no blood play. That sort of thing.

It’s practically a contractual arrangement, but we’re both getting something we need from each other. Naz gets to let go and let someone take care of him for once.

And me? I get to be the only person on earth who gets this side of him.

The sex is nothing to scoff at, either. I mean, goddamn. I didn’t know sex could be this hot, this primal. Just looking at Naz has me conditioned to bone up, which is kind of a problem, considering I’m his bodyguard. Trailing behind him almost 24/7 is both a joy and a pain in that way.

Finding our paths crossing again was a total coincidence, but I like to think that fate brought us back together. I never forgot that night at the club, and I spent more than my fair share of nights waiting, hoping to see him walk through the doors again. I stayed at that shitty paying job far longer than I might have otherwise. Even after sticking around for over two and half years and giving up on the hope I’d ever see him again, I still second guessed calling the number on the card Cory handed me one night after I helped him get Jesse Moore out of a bad situation. Of course I knew who Jesse was. Who doesn’t? But I really didn’t know who Naz was when I met him in the club that night.

It wasn’t until after I was hired and went through training that we met face to face and I put it together. It might have taken me longer to figure out why he was so familiar, to recognize the unmasked version of him with longer hair and even more tattoos than before, but it was his expression that gave it away. The way he stared at me with recognition, disbelief, and a faint edge of fear washing over his face.

We’ve come a long way since then. Naz was not happy about my assignment as his bodyguard. He even tried to have me switched out for another bodyguard, but it raised too many questions, so he dropped it. For a while I thought he might have me fired, but under that passive-aggressive, scowling exterior, he’s really a softy.

Actually, I’m the only one he really seems to get so grouchy with, but I kind of love it. It’s like when small children are little angels all day and then turn into the devil incarnate as soon as they’re home and can drop their guard. It’s cute, and it means I’m his safe space.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

About a month after I joined the Lest Is Moore security team, I found Naz having a small breakdown. He’s so calm and put together all the time, it was really hard to tell how bad it was, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that something was wrong. I tried to talk to him about it, but he kept pushing me away and tried to walk away from me. So I took a chance.

“Stop,” I said, with all the authority I could muster.

Naz startled a little and halted in his tracks. He turned around to face me slowly, his brow furrowed with the grouchy annoyance I’d already grown used to, but there was something more in his eyes. Interest. Or maybe relief?

A slow grin spread across my face when I realized I could help him. I could help him, and I could also have him.

Just like that night in the club years ago, I had to spend some time talking him down and easing him into the headspace I knew he desperately craved. Needed, even. We were in the hallway outside the recording studio, so it wasn’t exactly the right place to whip his dick out, so I kept things professional. Well, I kept my touch professional, at least. I might have murmured some things in his ear to keep his attention on me.

It went on like that for weeks. I’d step in whenever I could tell he was getting overwhelmed. I never touched him, just talked and got him out of his head. Until one night I got a text that he needed help in his room. I was worried he might be having another episode, but when I tapped lightly on the door and stepped inside, I found Naz in the center of the room, on the ground and wearing nothing but a jockstrap. He was kneeling with his knees apart, hands resting on his thighs, his head bowed.

“What’s going on?”

Naz looked up at me, annoyed by my stupid question, but trying not to show it or roll his eyes.

“If we’re going to do this, we should do it right,” he said. “It can only be behind closed doors, and it’s strictly an exchange, nothing more. But if you want me… I’d like you to have me.” He paused and lowered his head again. “Sir.”

Honestly, it looked like a struggle for him to keep his position and say the words. Like he was warring with himself. I questioned whether it was the right thing to do for about two and a half seconds. Because how could anyone turn down the most beautiful man on earth practically naked and on his knees?

They couldn’t, that’s how. I damn sure didn’t even try.

I walked over to him, crouched down in front of him, and tilted his chin to look up at me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes at first, either out of embarrassment or because that’s how he’d seen other submissives act.

“Eye contact, pet. If we’re going to do this, I want your eyes on me unless I say otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to. If it works for you, that’s fine. We’ll need to have a discussion about limits and what we do and don’t want out of this, but I’d like to take advantage of having you on your knees first, if that’s okay.”

“Green.”

When the word came out of his mouth, breathy and full of lust, I nearly lost it on the spot.