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“Don’t you get it? I’m never going to be fucking ready.” Clint rocked back, covering his face with one hand as the first few tears broke loose. A headache immediately overwhelmed him, his entire face feeling like it was about to smother him. “Never. Ross was my one and only. Nothing you say or do is going to change that.”
“That’s okay,” said Scotland, his words sideswiping Clint and hitting him straight in the chest.
No one had ever told him it was okay. No one had said that he didn’t have to move on.
“Ross sounded like he was a wonderful person,” said Scotland. “I can’t imagine losing someone so dear.”
“Fuck.” Clint couldn’t hold back any longer. Scotland caught him as he went to his knees, and Clint buried his head into his chest as the first sobs broke loose. It was like a wild animal had released itself from his lungs, his wails all but silencing the crickets around them.
“Let it out,” said Scotland, hugging him close.
Clint could have stopped if he’d tried. He was terrible at crying, which was why he rarely indulged in it. A headache that lasted two days was a guarantee, and once the tears started, there was no way of stopping them until he ran dry.
How long has it been since I’ve had something like this? There had been tears over the years, but never someone for them to land on.
Scotland moved them back to one of the chairs as Clint’s sobs slowed, holding Clint in his lap with his shoulder to Scotland’s chest. It was comfort and warmth and that same strength that had pulverized a piece of wood and split it apart.
Clint’s arms were sore from clutching Scotland tight for so long, his face throbbing with itchy cheeks. His lungs were airless as he curled his fingers against Scotland’s chest, the only way to keep from reaching out and touching.
“Could you tell me about him?” asked Scotland, running one hand through Clint’s hair soothingly. The touch vibrated over his skin, sending a rush of calm along his aching nerves. It did nothing for the pain. It did help, though.
“Why?” Why the hell would Scotland—with his little crush—want to know about his dead husband?
“People talk about him all the time at Unkinked,” said Scotland, never ceasing his movements as he dragged his nails against Clint’s scalp. “He’s a bit of a mystery, to be honest. Some people said he was exclusively your sub, a few others mentioned he was a Dom. Everyone agrees he was a good guy, though.”
A chuckle escaped his throat, and Clint smiled through his tears. Yeah, that sounds about right. “He was an asshole.”
Scotland jerked beneath him, his gaze meeting Clint’s. They were close—too close, their lips nearly touching. Scotland was the first to look away, staring at the stacked wood of the unlit fire. “Why would you call him an asshole?”
Clint let out a small puff of air that could have been a laugh if his heart hadn’t hurt so badly. He turned in Scotland’s arms so his back was to Scotland’s chest, resting his head back. Memories rushed over him in an instant, with phantom limbs matching Scotland’s touch.
“When I first met him, he was with another guy but looking for a third,” said Clint. He could remember it clearly, as if he could close his eyes and slip back to that day when he’d set his sights on Ross. His first look at his eyes, and he’d known that Ross was a dangerous man. Dangerous for me.
“I heard that from Keady,” said Scotland, smoothing his hands along Clint’s arms before settling at his wrists. He didn’t feel like the shackles Clint’s imagined he would, his touch light and soft. “He said that guy got Ross kicked out of his kink community, so you kicked his ass and married Ross.”
Bunch of gossips. “That’s the short version, yeah.” Clint wiped his face, grimacing at what came away on his sleeve. He was an absolute mess, despite the early morning shower in Scotland’s home. “Keady skipped the part about me going after Ross strictly for his money, but the asshole made me fall in love with him instead.”
Scotland tightened his arms, his low laugh shivering against Clint’s ear. “Just money?”
“No.” Clint bit his lip. “He was gorgeous.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. His headache throbbed, but the memories burned brighter. “And rich. So rich. I was a step above living on the streets at that point, and I still had a year left of nursing school. I was also cute as hell and kinky. He was the perfect target for a sugar baby like me, but one scene and my ultimate plan fell apart.”
“What happened?” Scotland moved his hands to Clint’s hips, staying clear of the exposed strip of skin where his shirt had ridden up. The scars were bared to the light. The same thing that had put them there had stripped him of his love.
“The scene started, and he went to his knees first. That’s when I figured out that I wasn’t just a bratty sub.” Clint shook his head. He’d been so naïve at that time of his life. “He flipped my world upside down and changed everything I knew about myself.”
Everything.
“So you guys got together pretty quick,” said Scotland, nodding against Clint’s neck. His breath was warm and smelled of coffee and something sweet. “Love at first scene, so to speak.”
“Nope,” said Clint, his smile going wider as he reached back, patting Scotland on the head. “He was too good for me, and I agreed with that. So he went back to his partner, and I kept looking. I found myself a Daddy who was nearly as good looking and wasn’t afraid to throw his money at me.”
He let out a sigh, shifting to get comfortable. Scotland was all rugged muscle but very little squish, so he didn’t make the most comfortable chair. “But it’s hard to be a good boy when you’re watching another man across the club. Every time Ross was there, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He’d catch me looking, and he’d give me this little glare like he was worried that I was going to stroll across the club and rip his clothes off. Turns out he was right.”
The wind picked up, a few stale ashes swirling around the firepit. It was well used, with the scorched remnants of a few logs within. Warmth had started to creep across the dew-soaked ground as the sun rose, the slight wind dying down to stifling.
“He wasn’t just a Dom. He was a sub, too, just like me. He had his partner and a sub he frequented with at a place the community would meet up. His partner must’ve seen me watching. He was a jealous thing who was so insecure it was sad. He called red right as they started a scene and claimed he was being forced and hadn’t consented to anything.”
It still made him angry. Safewords were sacred. Sometimes they were the only thing to tell you that your partner was still on board and not having second thoughts. He’d seen couples tip over the edge of uncertainty before, and it had shattered them.
