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Pursing his lips, Clint fought down his instant retort. How could he have forgotten how much Doms were assholes? He was a Dom, too, but that didn’t count. He’d made peace with his asshole side.
“It’s too cold, Sir.”
“Ah, I thought that was what I heard,” said Scotland, wiping his hands on his legs. “Would you prefer the hard way or the easy way?”
It was way too early with no rest for this shit. Clint scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. Scotland had been trying to work him over since he’d arrived, but they were starting to get a little too close to the line for his own comfort.
“How about we talk limits,” said Clint, rubbing at one eye where an eyelash tickled him. “We never did get there.”
The next time he saw a couch, he was climbing right in and not moving for eight hours.
“The hard way, then,” said Scotland. He nodded, his face never changing as he brushed a small pile of ash from the ring of the pit. “Go on, then. What are your limits?”
He supposed the ‘no sex’ limit was out, seeing as he’d recently had his ass fucked. The rest were still up for debate, though. He wasn’t like Keady, who thought he could throw away his limits to spice things up. That shit was serious.
“No blood play or any bodily fluids other than cum,” said Clint, reciting everything from memory. Usually, cum was on that list, but that ship had sailed. “Keep impact to a minimum because I’m not that kind of pain slut. When it comes to any devices or tools, check in first.”
“Sounds good,” said Scotland, wiping his hand on the grass. The blades came away streaked with black, his fingers still smudged from the deadened ash. “How are you on humiliation?”
Probably my favorite thing in the world. “Green on that front, Sir. If you want me to crawl naked down main street, I’m game.”
Clint bit his tongue, his face flushing. Maybe he would have been fine with that with Ross, but Scotland? How was he supposed to know that Scotland would be there for him after that one-man parade—hopefully with bail money for when he was arrested? Not letting that happen again.
“Perfect. I have something in mind that will suit for your punishment.” Scotland turned back to the fire pit, adjusting a few of the larger logs. “Now, I believe I asked you to get your cock out.”
P-punishment? Oh shit. Besides being a switch, there was one thing that really set Clint apart from other kinksters. He craved punishment, thrived on it, even. Ross had taken him in hand so many times that a proper beating became part of their routine. The relief it brought was better than any drug that Clint had seen someone high on during his nursing days.
But if he pushed too far with someone he barely knew, he would have no idea what he was in for, which was why he had his impact limit. There was no way that Scotland could know what he craved. And there was also no way in hell that Clint was ever going to tell him. He was a brat for a reason.
“I should give you fair warning that I’m not very patient,” said Scotland, pulling a lighter from his pocket and setting it on the edge of the pit. “Usually I am, but not when it comes to you. You’ve kept me waiting for a bit.” He quirked his lips.
“Neither am I,” said Clint, pulling the bottom corner of the blanket free to expose his legs. His track pants weren’t nearly thick enough and gave everything away. All these threats had him hot and bothered. With one tug of fabric, he sprang free, hitting the cool air like an electric shock.
“You have a nice cock,” said Scotland, staring unashamedly, the vibrant tips of his hair catching the light. “Too bad it’s only for show.”
Clint bit his lip, tucking his balls carefully under the band of his pants and settling the blanket back over his belly. He almost felt normal all wrapped up, with no scars on display at all. “Only part of me that the fire didn’t ruin.”
He tried to flash a smile, but his lips dragged down, a swallow stuck in his throat. Even the word fire felt wrong in his mouth, like something potent that could poison him.
“Clint?” called Scotland softly, moving to touch Clint’s knee. His eyes were warm and open, despite the set of his jaw. “What’s your color right now?”
Clearing his throat, Clint shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m green. Just forget I said anything.”
“No can do.” Scotland pursed his lips. “There are two things I won’t tolerate in a dynamic—disrespect and lies. I’ll give you one chance.”
“Without respect and honesty, kink can turn into abuse,” said Clint, holding Scotland’s gaze steady. He could almost feel the little bits of his submission slipping away, leaving only an exhausted shell behind. “I’m sorry. I can’t count how many times I’ve preached that very thing, but I just— Well, fuck.”
Tugging his pants back over his wilting cock, he let out a shaky breath, pulling the blanket tight. “You’re right— I’m not green. I don’t know if I can do this, Scotland. Ross was my everything. He could read my mind without even trying, and I loved him more than anything in the world. I can’t just move on from that. It’s too soon.”
“Okay,” said Scotland, his face carefully blank. “But I’m not asking you to move on, Clint.”
“Yes, you are. Fuck.” Clint got to his feet, shoving his chair back so he didn’t have to get any closer to Scotland. “I can’t, okay? I can’t with you. This whole thing—the vacation, being away from the bar, the new place and whatever you want to call what’s between us—I’m not ready.”
His eyes stung, and he pinched the base of his nose, fighting his hurt off as his shoulders shook. He hated crying, and he hadn’t come close in so long. He took a shuddering breath, but the threatening tears refused to disappear.
“Okay.” Scotland stood, holding his hands out on either side of him. “It’s okay, Clint. You know you’re good, right? You are strong and beautiful, and if you aren’t ready, I completely respect that.”
He’s so beautiful. Clint tore his gaze away.
