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His chest pulled tight, his heart pounding.
“I’ve got you,” said Scotland, keeping his finger depressed on the fuel as he reached for Clint with his free hand. He tucked one finger into the rope at Clint’s wrists, the tug focusing his gaze away from the tinder. “You couldn’t even move if you wanted to, could you? No need to think of running away when I’ll keep you safe.” His voice was dark and soft, lulling Clint like a metronome.
He was right. Clint could barely twitch, let alone contemplate putting his feet in a way that he could stand without keeling over.
“No, Sir.” His voice was just a bit slurred like he’d drank four glasses of wine at dinner instead of Scotland’s lips. The fear trickled away as he focused on the ropes and the burn on the back of his wrist as he tugged at them. They were strong, resisting any thoughts of struggle.
“Good boy.”
A shiver ran over his skin, the flame flickering a tad closer as Scotland shifted to tug the blanket from Clint’s body. He tossed it to the darkness of the lawn, the smooth warmth of it disappearing. Now he was cold, the sharpness of the breeze raking over his skin.
He didn’t move.
The flame went out as Scotland set the lighter on the brick fireplace. With that same hand, he slid between Clint’s thighs a moment later, finding Clint’s cock unerringly. He could imagine a warmth to his fingertips from the fire that burned against him, but it was all in his head.
Hell. He was hard, and he gasped as Scotland traced him through the fabric of his pants. Scotland’s hand was heavy, resting against him as he throbbed.
“I want to see you.” He grasped Clint’s bound wrists, pushing them so they were over Clint’s head and resting against the chair. He didn’t need to be told what to do next, gripping the chair and holding on tight. It left his chest on display, his nipples hard and his skin tingling.
A few tugs and Scotland managed to get Clint’s track pants down to the tops of his thighs. It took everything Clint had to help him, planting his weight on his feet so he could lift his ass from the chair.
The wood of the chair was smooth against his ass as he settled back down, nothing between him and the night as Scotland slid his pants the rest of the way free. A mosquito landed on his thigh, but Scotland quickly brushed it away before it could bite him. His skin prickled from the light touch, and he fought the urge to squirm.
“Such a pretty cock.” Scotland grabbed for the lighter, pressing the igniter.
Clint’s breath hitched as the flame appeared a second time, so much closer than the last. He was almost a part of the small circle of light and heat surrounding it, the little trail of smoke on top like a beacon.
“Your heart is racing,” said Scotland, roaming with his free hand everywhere he could reach. He trailed over Clint’s belly, teasing the underside of one bound arm before pausing to squeeze his pec and play with his nipple. The insides of his thighs were next, but Scotland never got close enough to Clint’s cock to take the edge off.
“Beautiful,” said Scotland, letting the flame flicker out as he touched the edge of one of Clint’s scars. The skin was usually number than the rest, but it burned as Scotland stroked him, so sensitive that it was nearly painful.
Maybe it was all in his head. He hadn’t felt like this since the accident. There had only been numbness or pain then, but this was something else.
The flame was back, inches from Clint’s skin and flickering in the breeze that rustled the treetops. I can feel it. Fuck, he wanted it. He remembered what it felt like to have something so powerful at his beck and call—or wrapped around his skin for a split second before it was smothered.
The touch at his cock nearly had him coming as the lighter went out, only for the flame to spring to life a second later. The cool metal of the base of the lighter touched his chest as Scotland wrapped his lips around the head of Clint’s cock.
The wires in his brain crossed. He could swear it was the heat from the flame wrapping around his cock as he closed his eyes, the cold metal disappearing as he was overwhelmed by warmth and suction. He could only breathe with the rhythm of sucks and the click of the lighter each time Scotland ignited it. His balls went tight, his groin pulsing as his orgasm rushed toward him at full speed.
“You are so very good for me,” said Scotland as he pulled back, setting the lighter back on the edge of the fire pit. Clint’s body buzzed, his fingers twitching as he stared at it. Even as the flame went out, he could swear that the tip of the metal glowed. If it were to touch him, he could imagine the hiss of sound and the pulse of his cock.
Maybe there was a bit more to Scotland than half-finished tattoos and colorful hair. He blinked in the low light, unable to look away from him.
Scotland had a smile on his lips, his breathing even and soft.
“Let’s get you inside for tonight.” He grasped the edge of the rope, tugging the knot free with a single pull. It unraveled like silk, slithering along his arms as it was freed before pooling on the ground. Scotland reached for it, expertly coiling it up.
Wait… What? Clint blinked, shaking his head to try to clear his thoughts. “Sir?”
“I won’t leave you, love. Don’t worry.” The panic evaporated in a heartbeat, the throbbing of his cock thrusting to the forefront of his thoughts. He’d been so close, and Scotland’s saliva was still cool on his shaft.
Scotland followed his gaze. “Oh. You don’t get to come.” His gaze was soft, despite his treacherous words. “Come on.” He helped Clint to his feet, his pants tucked under his arm. “I’ll take the couch. You can sleep in my bed tonight.”
Chapter Eleven
Clint
Clint took another sip of his coffee, letting the bitterness wash over his tongue and settle there like it did every morning. A second later the sweetness flooded in, and he quirked his lips. He usually took it straight black and dark, tired and in too much of a rush to add anything to the steaming brew except for a shot of tap water to cool it enough to drink.
