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“I’m taking Maddy home,” said Derreck, grasping Maddy’s hand and helping him from the couch. “He’ll be back when he’s back.”
Maddy rolled his eyes. “Derreck, seriously…”
“Do you want a beating or not?” asked Derreck, raising one brow.
Maddy nodded so quickly that it probably made him dizzy. “I’ll see you in a few days, Clint.”
Clint collapsed against the same couch as soon as they left the room, rubbing his hand over his face. Man, it was good to be back, but at the same time…it wasn’t. His gut was tight in the way it hadn’t been for so long, his to-do list longer than he cared to think about.
How much equipment needed to get wiped down? There was a flogger on the ground a few feet away, not to mention the mess of ropes that would need to be coiled and returned to their rightful owners.
Weeks of rest and he was exhausted, every limb sinking into the couch until he wanted nothing more than to sleep. It would be best if that sleep wasn’t alone. At least with Scotland, he managed to catch more than a few short winks threaded with scattered nightmares.
He hadn’t seen him since he’d gone into super-save-the-day mode when the cops had taken off. In fact, it was completely possible Scotland had hitched a ride home with another couple.
It was probably for the best. Clint’s night had just begun. It didn’t make the ache go away, though.
It took him almost two hours to get everything cleaned and put away, antiseptic clinging to his skin, despite how many times he washed his hands. Maddy had obviously been looking after things in his absence, but kinksters were like toddlers. You could spend hours putting all their toys away, and they have them all back out and played with in ten minutes.
By the time he approached the door to his section of the house, his feet were nearly dragging on the floor, his eyelids drooping. He’d had too much of the good life lately, and despite catching up on years of lost sleep, he was still exhausted.
He half-expected it to be locked, but the knob turned under his hand. It was a good thing too. He’d left two bags of milk and a crap ton of veggies in the fridge that he told Maddy to feast on. It would have been awful to come back to that rotted mess.
And luckily, he trusted a few of his members enough to crash on his bed if they needed to. He hoped no one had christened the damn thing, not that it mattered much. He’d be heading for the couch. The last thing he needed was a reminder that he was sleeping alone tonight.
I hope he made it home okay. He bit his lip as he thought of Scotland. He’d been so damned busy, he hadn’t even said goodbye. If he hadn’t been so worried about Unkinked, the guilt would probably drag him the rest of the way to sleep. I’ll make it up to him. I have to.
Clint blinked as he rounded the corner into his bedroom, intent on finding the softest pair of pajamas so he could get out of Scotland’s pants. They kept catching on his heel, trying to drag down his ass every time he bent over.
There was a pair of feet in his bed. He blinked again, hesitating as he reached for the lamp. Whoever it was probably didn’t mean him any harm, but he didn’t want to wake them up with a lamplight to the face. That would make the gentlest soul grumpy.
They were lying on top of the covers, their face buried in the pillow. There was something so familiar about them that he realized who it was, even in the darkness.
Sleep was the last thing on his mind as he reached for Scotland’s ankle. His legs were naked, his ass covered only by a thin pair of black boxers that cupped the curves perfectly. He didn’t stir as Clint trailed his fingers up the back of his leg, fine hairs tickling his fingertips until he reached that smooth spot on the back of his knee.
It was vulnerable and sweet, and in seconds, Clint’s chest was full to bursting. While he’d been worrying about Unkinked, Scotland had figured out exactly where he belonged. Why am I still trying to fight it?
Ross should have been the one in his bed, snuggled up behind him and spooning him as he snored into Clint’s ear. It felt so fucking good to give himself up to Scotland, but what about taking control? With Ross it had been so easy that they’d hardly even needed to speak about it. His switch had been like a visible knob that Ross could turn on and off at will. Sub or Dom.
Can I be Scotland’s Dom?
There was so much power in being a sub—taking pain, restraint or anything the Dom gave him and being strong enough to take it and pull pleasure from it like a drug. It was the sub’s say, but the pressure was on the Dom. Everything had to be perfect, and they had to keep their sub happy, healthy and horny.
“Scotland?” Clint asked softly, dipping under the lower cuff of Scotland’s boxers until his fingertip met the curve of his ass. He was soft there, too, with only the finest hairs. Clint delved deeper until his finger traced the edge of the warmth between Scotland’s cheeks. So tight.
“Scotland?” he asked a little louder, unable to tear his hand away. He was treading a fine line of consent that he’d rather not tumble down.
“You’re good, love,” said Scotland, his voice filled with sleep. He shifted on the bed, adjusting his hips as he pressed his hole harder against Clint’s finger.
Fuck. “You’re such a good little slut,” said Clint, pulling his hand back to spit on his fingers before he moved right back to the same spot. “Sitting up here waiting for Daddy to get home to take your little ass.” He sucked air in through his teeth. It had been so long since he’d felt like a Daddy Dom, but it was just as good as the first time. “Let Daddy in.”
“Please.” Scotland’s whisper was breathy as he pushed against Clint’s finger, letting the tip inside. Silky heat engulfed Clint, the slide easy from his saliva.
“Such a greedy boy. Did you want more?” Withdrawing, Clint tugged Scotland’s boxers free, dragging Scotland to his knees. His face was still buried in the pillow, leaving him open and…vulnerable—something Clint had never expected from Scotland.
It was hard to picture a guy who could split wood with one hit and stab someone with a hundred needles as vulnerable. It was heady as hell, too. How many people had seen Scotland like this? Probably only a select few that Clint had no intention of thinking about. As far as he was concerned, this moment was just theirs.
“I didn’t know if you were coming back,” Scotland mumbled into the pillow, taking a deep breath as Clint breached him again.
