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A request that couldn’t have come at a better time. After the shit that’d happened three days ago, Max needed desperately to do some major hands-on damage control. Wherever he could. In any shape or form. As if his heightened urge to fix another was a direct reflection of his own critical needs. To be taken apart completely, then rigorously cleansed, so when put back together he’d be good.
So, he’d projected that urgency on Cassie tonight. He’d bound her face-down to his St. Andrew’s cross, then duct-taped his Magic Wand to her thigh. With is vibrating head pressed snug to her sex, he’d worked her over with her whip of choice, the cane. He hadn’t relented, either, until she finally gasped, “Red.” Her body rigid and trembling from head to toe.
It’d taken her a while to calm once he’d freed her, once he’d gotten her to the couch to recuperate. But he’d been right there, picking up every piece, meticulously putting her together better than new. Part of him obviously still holding out hope that there was still a chance his own suffering might cease.
Thing was, even after she’d finally regrouped, Max hadn’t felt one stitch better. Still burned in ever fiber with the unquenchable need to fix. Which was probably why he’d insisted she drink plenty of fluids and even down some crackers just in case. Overcompensating with his subs in a subconscious effort to make up for all he couldn’t do for himself. Right his wrongs. Make things better. Repair his fucking insides so he could sleep.
Max watched as Cassie slid into her car and started the engine, then turned, shut his door, and walked away.
* * * * *
“Hey, Mitchel. How’s that research project going?”
Tad glanced up from his cubicle at the Morning Star and nodded to the sports editor he interned for. “Going good, Mr. Carlisle. Almost done. Just a couple more items to check on.”
“Good.” His boss smiled, his expression looking relieved. “I’m gonna need that on my desk by five o’clock.”
“No problem, chief. I’m actually ahead of schedule.”
“Watch it. Don’t jinx yourself.”
Tad grinned and knocked on his desk. Boss man smirked with coffee in hand and headed for his office. Tad shook his head as he watched him go. Oh ye, of little faith. When had he ever let that man down? Not once. At least not yet. He’d only started this internship recently. But over his dead body would he screw this up. Not after he’d waited over a year working in the mailroom to score such a kickass opportunity.
And man, had he lucked out. He could’ve gotten saddled up to one of the paper’s far less attractive departments. Like fashion or politics. Or God forbid, the obituaries. But no, as an aspiring journalist just a month away from graduation, Tad had landed a sweet-ass cubby hole in sports.
Because evidently, despite what he used to believe, the universe in fact really did like him. Had proved as much, well beyond a shadow of a doubt, last weekend when he and Scott finally worked shit out.
God, what a journey, their relationship so far. Starting in one of the most unorthodox of ways, only to grow more complicated as things progressed. Mostly due to the fact that before Tad had met Scott, he hadn’t truly acknowledged himself as gay. And yet, good god, after his and Scott’s first encounter, there was just no getting around the brazenly obvious.
Not that Tad didn’t try to deny it in the beginning. Hell, he’d tried to for weeks. Well, at least up through their second encounter, one that ended pretty similar to the first. With raw, forbidden sex between a rookie and a pro. Between two worked up guys who’d just had to have each other.
Which wasn’t to say he hadn’t tried to resist Scott. Because he had… kind of sort of. But, fuck, the man was just too addicting. So much so that before their third encounter, he actually tried avoiding Scott altogether. It’d been the only way he could think of to keep from falling harder for the guy. It’d been a horrible experience, staying away from Scott. He hadn’t anticipated missing him so much. So when their paths unexpectedly crossed again, the last thing Tad wanted to do was dodge.
So he hadn’t. At all.
But at the end of the day, it’d still been a lot to grapple with, his undeniable feelings for Scott. Tad had needed time to adjust, to re-identify, which ultimately took a heavy toll on Scott. God, the night Scott walked away, Tad had never in his life felt so wrecked. Fortunately, the next day, when he decided to go after him, Scott found it in his heart to give him another chance. Which brought things full circle with inarguable proof that the universe most definitely did like him. That hot little romp after their workout on Tuesday was just more solid proof of that fact.
