AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When did this turn into an interrogation?
“I’ve explored every part, punk,” said Clint, untucking the edges of his blanket so he could put his feet back on the ground, bugs be damned. “I’m not a newbie— I’m the king.”
Scotland set his plate down next to Clint’s, holding his gaze steady. Clint itched to look away, those eyes burning into him and probably seeing too much in the darkness.
“Then you say something like that,” said Scotland, “and it makes me wonder if you are okay.” Scotland blinked, slow, steady, soft. He was that supportive best friend that had already been in his pants.
Clint swallowed, looking away. The chirping of the crickets was almost overwhelming without the sound of wind through the trees. His own heart was quiet and beating in metronomic thumps. “Like what?”
“You go from a kid all wrapped up in a blanket after rolling around in a field to defensive,” said Scotland, squeezing Clint’s knee. Clint hadn’t realized they were touching, and he fought not to jerk away. “You say you’re the king, but I’m not sure if you know how to play anymore.”
Clint bit his tongue, the tang of blood filling his mouth. “You don’t know me.”
“I do,” said Scotland, standing from his chair to move before Clint. His ass touched the edge of the plates, almost sending them into the ash as he dropped to one knee. “Let me show you that I do. I can prove it.”
Clint pulled his legs up, trying to escape Scotland’s grasp. The ‘no shirt during vacation’ suddenly seemed like a very bad idea. The damn guy is persistent enough.
“What do you have to lose?” asked Scotland.
Clint looked away, his face burning where Scotland’s gaze touched him. Why the hell did I turn the light up? He should have just gone inside or watched for Scotland’s approach so he could have disappeared when Scotland had started toward the house. “Nothing. You don’t— Trust me. No one does.”
The words stung at the same time his eyes did. Do I really mean that? He hadn’t meant to say it. His friends had to know him…and maybe Cutler.
No. Not a single one of them knew the real him. Not even those who had known him when Ross had still been alive.
“Give me the chance to prove it. You still have your safewords if you need them. I won’t hurt you.”
Scotland’s voice was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard during a migraine. “I’m not afraid to get hurt. I like it, actually.” Clint waggled his eyebrows, slumping his shoulders when Scotland didn’t respond with his usual quip and smirk.
“Not this type of pain,” said Scotland, touching Clint’s cheek.
Clint inhaled a sharp breath, his cheek burning. He hadn’t felt the good kind of pain in a long time. So long, that he wondered if he would even like it anymore.
“You hate how you’re feeling right now,” said Scotland, trailing his fingers to Clint’s lips. “You’re so afraid to hurt that you refuse to feel anything at all. You throw yourself into kink and lust because you think that’s the only thing left for you, but you can’t do more than watch.”
“What’s your point?” Clint bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes burned for no reason at all.
Scotland was starting to sound like his fucking therapist. He’d only seen her a few times after the fire, and it had never helped. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it then, and he sure as hell didn’t want to now.
“Give me a chance.”
A little gust of wind picked up, swirling around the fire pit and throwing up specks of white and gray. A few wisps of dust floated onto the food, coating the roasted pepper in a touch more charcoal. The ash stuck in moments, already starting to dissolve.
There was nothing to fear of the ash. He knew that, but he still dreaded the feeling on his tongue when he slipped the food into his mouth. He used to love that smell, the taste, and with his fucked-up brain, sometimes it still made him want.
“Fine.” He spat the word, elbowing Scotland to the side so he could reach for his plate. His chicken was far too good for him to let it go to waste, even if he did have nightmares. If he didn’t look at it too hard, he wouldn’t see the dissolved ash, anyway. “Do your worst, but don’t come crying to me when your Dom ass can’t handle me.”
“Okay,” said Scotland, pulling away before grabbing his plate and returning to his own chair. “Finish your dinner.”
Clint rolled his eyes, letting his inner brat out tenfold. The dynamic between a Dom and sub was sacred to him, but Scotland was pushing every single button the wrong way. “I was going to anyway.”
Scotland paused with his fork hovering in front of his mouth. “I was going to anyway…” He lifted one brow, giving Clint a pointed look.
Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “I was going to anyway, Sir.”
Scotland’s lips split in a grin. “Good boy. I never knew you’d be quite so easy.”
Clint grumbled, scraping his teeth over his fork when he bit down a little too hard. “I’m not easy. I’m polite.”
