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“Ross was crushed,” said Clint, swiping at his cheeks as a few tears slipped out. “That fire and life I loved to watch was destroyed in an instant.”
Dull eyes, pressed lips and that way his face pinched when he was trying not to cry.
“I found him that night.” His heart picked up, his gut pulling tight at the memory. He’d been brimming with determination so strong that nothing could have stopped him. “I was obsessed with him. Where he worked, where he lived—I knew it all. I knew his favorite restaurants that he’d take his partner to and the things he would post about online.”
“Wow,” said Scotland, letting out a soft breath. “Stalker alert.”
“Pretty much.” Clint shrugged. He’d long since come to terms with how much of an idiot he’d been when he was younger. “So, I went to his house, and I let myself in when he didn’t answer. I found him standing in front of his bathroom sink looking so lost that it broke my heart.”
The house had been dark, his heart beating fast as he’d looked at Ross’ face, surprise etched in every feature at seeing Clint standing there.
“I asked him to punish me and beat me until I cried. I told him he was beautiful as he hurt me and how much I wanted him.”
Shuddering at the memory, he licked his lips. He’d been so brave that night. He hadn’t known that it was love—only an obsession that claimed every waking thought. He’d been furious at Ross, trying to rid his thoughts of the man who haunted him at all hours.
“Shit.” Scotland shifted, clenching his hands on Clint’s hips.
“The next day when we left the house, I told him I would take care of him. At home I belonged to him and would submit to anything he asked. But outside he was mine to cherish, protect and dominate. It was good—heady. What we had was perfect.”
“Until the fire,” said Scotland, his words like the dull blade of a knife dragging over a bruised wound before the point set deep.
“It was my fault,” said Clint, shaking his head as he let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve never told anyone about what happened—even the insurance company and the police. They would never understand.”
He could imagine their looks of horror and confusion if he’d even told them about one moment between himself and Ross. He had his kinksters and the ones who understood, but there were so many others who wouldn’t.
“Cutler told me you like to play with fire,” said Scotland, his voice low. He moved his hand, skimming along the edge of Clint’s belly before he moved away. The scars tingled from the touch. “It’s beautiful but dangerous.”
“That’s what everyone thinks,” said Clint, squeezing his eyes shut as tears tried to escape. His heart was racing, his chest tight. He’d broken a piece of himself so he never corrected them. It wasn’t worth it.
“I know what people say,” said Clint. He’d heard the whispers, even from his own friends. “They think one of us was strapped to a cross getting fire flogged—or maybe having cigarettes burned into our skin. I think that’s what the cops wondered once they saw what was left of the bedroom and found out about the club we’d started together.”
Another sob crept from his throat, the grief crashing into his tenfold as he struggled to keep talking.
“I-I asked him for something different during aftercare. ‘Light me a scented candle. I love the way they smell’.” His legs trembled. It had played over in his mind a thousand times.
He’d never asked for that before. Why the hell did I that time? He should have kept to their usual routine.
“We fell asleep with the candle still burning beside the bed. A box of tissues was too close, and the flame caught…”
He’d set the tissues there, too. The feeling of cum seeping from his ass was hot as hell until it started to cool and get sticky. He always kept something close to wipe clean and had been too blissed out to ask for a cloth.
“Did you know you can’t smell in your sleep?” asked Clint, his voice going high as he trembled. “The fire alarm woke us, but the bed had already caught fire. I thought it was a dream I was lost in. I stumbled through the smoke looking for him, only to realize he was still in bed. There was fire everywhere. I tried.”
“You did everything you could, Clint.” Scotland’s grip was fierce. “It’s not your fault.”
Does Scotland know I’ve never told another soul about this? He trembled, his skin vibrating with the force of it as his nausea peaked.
“You know the worst part?” Clint sniffed, rubbing his face in an attempt to dry his tears. They were coming too quickly for it to make any difference. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get them to stop. “I got what I wanted in the end…every fucking dime.”
Chapter Twelve
Scotland
A few wisps of fog clung to the ditches as the morning light broke through the staggered branches of the forest. Frost had landed heavily the night before, silencing the last of the crickets and turning his raspberries to a deathly black. It was strange to see fall creep in so suddenly when he could have sworn he had just been in the midst of summer.
“I can’t remember the last time I was up this early,” said Clint, glancing off into the forest as Scotland hit the main road and accelerated onto the pavement. “Oh, a bunny!” He pointed at the scruffy brown creature as it bounced away, heading for the same place they’d just come from.
Clint was ruffled, his eyes wide but tired with his usual worn clothes stretched tight over his body. He’d finished the coffee Scotland had offered him in a few quick swallows and his second cup sat steaming in a spill-proof mug between them.
