by A. M. Arthur
Colt moaned deep in his chest, and then his hole clenched and loosened, over and over until Avery’s come began dripping back out. Avery grinned, then used his finger to push it back inside.
“Fuck,” Colt said. “Forgot how dirty you can be.”
“Good thing I reminded you. Never forgot how much I love yo—fucking you.”
If Colt noticed the near slip, he didn’t show it. He sprawled over the saddle in what couldn’t be an entirely comfortable position. Avery removed his finger and smacked Colt’s ass hard enough to leave a print.
“Jesus, that’s gonna get me hard again,” Colt said. “If you want a round two, we should head back to my cabin.”
Avery hesitated. The part of him who still loved Colt wanted a round two, three, four, infinity. The part of him who could still see their situation logically urged him to get the hell out of there and not look back. This hadn’t been about reuniting with Colt, it had been about giving Colt something he clearly needed. So he compromised. “I can’t.”
He stepped away from Colt and found a roll of paper towels so they could both clean up. It wasn’t awkward, as Avery expected. Sexual encounters between them were too familiar to be awkward, even if this encounter had lacked one of their favorite toys. Avery eyeballed a length of rope hanging on the wall as he stuffed his business back into his clothing.
Once they were both dressed, it seemed easier to speak.
“I want to do this again,” Colt said. “Maybe not in the barn, but, you know.”
Avery ducked his head to hide his face behind a curtain of hair. “I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s okay.” Colt took one of his hands and squeezed tight. “We’re consenting adults who had sex. And that’s okay if that’s all it was. I mean, that’s all we both came in here for.”
He looked up and instantly hated the uncertainty in Colt’s eyes. “We had fantastic sex, yes, but it probably shouldn’t happen again.”
Those familiar baby blues dimmed. “Oh.”
“You needed something tonight, Colt, and I hope I was able to help, but this wasn’t us getting back together. We can’t.”
“What if it’s just about submission again? I miss that so much. Letting go, letting you take me away into subspace. It’s how we met before sex was ever a thing between us.”
“Yes, it was. And we both know how our professional relationship became personal, and it didn’t end well. You sought me out for something you needed, something nonsexual, and I never should have let it go as far as it did.”
* * *
…Avery stares at the application he’s already memorized, thanks to his eidetic memory, mostly to waste time waiting. He’s early to meet his newest potential client, and he didn’t think to bring a book along. The park is often quiet this time of the morning. A young couple chats together on a nearby bench and a woman is walking a dog on the far side of the green, so he can’t really people watch without being creepy.
Colt Woods. Twenty-nine. Police officer, SWAT. Basic details. Avery isn’t terribly picky about his clients’ ages or physical appearance. The part that matters most to him is why. Why did they seek Avery’s services out? Why do they think he can help them get what they need?
Why me, specifically?
He already had one unfortunate encounter with a mentally unstable client-turned-stalker when he first started out, so Avery is cautious. And never holds first-time meetings at his place of business. Only open, public spaces.
“You must be Avery,” a man says.
Avery twists on the bench to look behind him, and his breath catches. The man watching him fell out of a fitness magazine, or the cover of GQ. Tall, well built, without being too muscular, his body is tightly encased in a pair of jeans and a Linkin Park T-shirt. Golden blond hair cut short on the sides, a little longer on top in a military-esque high-and-tight. Even from a distance of five feet, Avery can see how blue his eyes are.
The man is absolutely gorgeous, and he said Avery’s name. “Um, hello.” He stands from the bench. “You must be Colt Woods.”
“I am.” Colt’s broad grin encourages Avery to smile in return. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, as well.” Avery shakes Colt’s hand, unsurprised by the firm grip. The man is no colt, he’s a stallion all the way. “Please, join me.”
They sit on the bench, a respectable distance apart. Colt’s smile never dims, his gaze doing a quick once-over. Getting checked out never bothers Avery. He will, after all, potentially be doing very intimate things with his client, and their comfort with him is important.
“You weren’t kidding when you said look for a guy with a long, dark brown ponytail,” Colt says. “How long have you been growing your hair out?”
Avery can’t help running his hand down the smooth locks of hair, bundled at the nape of his neck with a leather tie. “About six years.”
“I’m impressed. My hair wouldn’t grow long even if I let it. Family trait. Used to drive my sisters nuts when it got just below their shoulders and then stopped growing.” Colt’s smile dims, and Avery makes a mental note.
Family is a touchy subject.
“I like it long,” Avery says. “And some of my clients enjoy how hair feels caressing their skin.”
Colt’s nostrils flare. “I imagine so.”
“So tell me, why choose such a high-stress job as Los Angeles County SWAT?”
“You get right to the point, don’t you?”
Avery nods. “This is a business arrangement, Mr. Woods, not a date.”
Colt bites his lip, as if stopping himself from saying something—something flirty, very likely. “Okay, well, I didn’t intend on SWAT to start, but I wanted to be a police officer since I was young. It was always something I’d dreamed of, except my parents had different expectations for me.”
“Such as?”
His face scrunches up. “I grew up on a cattle ranch in Texas, and as the eldest son, I was expected to run the ranch when our dad retired, only I didn’t want that. At all, so when I turned eighteen, I took what money I had saved and I left. Moved here. Took a few years before I could afford the police academy tuition fees, but I finally got it. Paid my dues.”
Avery tilts his head, studying Colt’s expression and his tone of voice. Colt sounds angry when discussing his family, and then joyful about finally making it as a police officer. Avery files those things away as important. “So why apply to SWAT?”
“I wanted to be the best, work with the best,” Colt replies. “Prove I made the right career choice.”
“Prove to whom?”
Colt’s eyebrows furrow. “Myself.”
“Not your father, as well?”
“I don’t…” He tilts his head, those bright blue eyes studying Avery’s face. “Maybe I did a little, yes. But I haven’t had any direct contact with my parents in over ten years, so I doubt they even know.”
“Do you think your father would be proud if he did know?” Avery’s questions bordered on a little too personal, but family issues affect a person’s mental health, and it also affects why someone might be drawn to BDSM.
“No, he wouldn’t.” Colt’s handsome face hardens. “He’ll always be disappointed in me for leaving the ranch behind, and for being queer.”
Avery blinks at the unexpected admission. He doesn’t ask about sexual orientation on his applications, because Avery doesn’t offer sexual services along with the ropes and flogging. Sometimes the men he works with get off, but most of them need a different kind of release. Avery also has a handful of regular female clients among his higher ratio of men. He prefers working with men, because what he offers allows them to deal with their emotional baggage. Baggage that a sex-crazed society valuing toxic masculinity as some sort of virtue tells men they have to deal with themselves. Don’t show emotion, don’t be vulnerable.
Fu
ck that. Avery was raised in a free-thinking household that values the strength of emotions and taught him never to hide his, especially from the people he cares about. And while Avery doesn’t date, he freely shares his feelings with his parents, who have a Domme/sub relationship, so he grew up around the lifestyle.
And Avery must have lost control of his facial expression during his brief trip down memory lane, because Colt’s face is now pinched and sour, and something deep down in Avery rebels at this man being upset for any reason. It’s a very unexpected feeling.
“That gonna be a problem for you?” Colt asks, steel in his voice. “Me liking men?”
“No, of course not.” Avery isn’t sure why reassuring Colt is so important to him. “I’ve worked with men and women of all sexualities. It doesn’t bother me in the least.”
Colt’s face smooths out. “Okay.”
“All right. Now, you’re in SWAT so you work with the best, but you’re interested in my services as a way to deal with the stress of your job.”
“Yes.”
Avery smooths his fingers across the printed application. “You said you have past experience in BDSM. Can you tell me more about that?”
“It’s not a lot of experience and all pre-academy. I went to a few clubs, and I realized I really liked being restrained and, um, flogged. When a Dom really got me into subspace, I could forget about money stress and shit. Stuff. It helped.”
“Then why’d you stop?”
Colt’s hands curl into tight fists, a common reaction to the question that tells Avery his answer. “Bad experience scared me off,” Colt replies. His even tone isn’t fooling Avery. Negative emotions about the experience ooze off Colt like a sour smell.
He was traumatized somehow, and he very likely hasn’t dealt with it emotionally. Avery is leery about accepting a client with that sort of baggage, but he’s drawn to Colt in a way he can’t describe. Not only because the man is good looking—hell, one of his regular clients is a famous fashion model—but he has an aura about him that Avery finds intriguing. He’s never been so drawn to another human being, male or female, in his life.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Avery says gently. “Did you report it to the club manager?”
“Happened at his place, not a club.” Colt shrugs, but the motion comes off as stilted, instead of casual. “I quit with Doms after that, anyway. Stuck to regular hookups.”
The hookups comment sticks in Avery’s brain. “So these previous BDSM encounters included sex?”
“Most of them, yeah, and I get that you don’t do that. I can find a sex partner if I want one. But I can’t find the emotional release I need that way.” Colt holds his gaze, fear and hope simmering in his eyes. “Maybe I can find it again with you, though.”
Perhaps it isn’t the most thought-through decision of his life, but in that moment, Avery decides he’s going to help Colt find what he needs. No matter what…
CHAPTER FOUR
Colt couldn’t decide if breakfast the next morning was all kinds of awkward, or if it was just him. Probably just him, because he wasn’t used to eating Sunday breakfast at the guesthouse dining table surrounded by people who weren’t staff. The Bentleys and the Masseys, their respective children, and a few other assorted family members had bunked in the guesthouse overnight. They were heading home after they ate, and before the day’s new crop of guests arrived. Random staff was scattered around the big table, but most came and went with plates.
Patrice had whipped up a big pile of pancakes and bacon, as well as the homemade applesauce she’d started buying from a local family who sold it at swap meets. Colt was addicted to the stuff, with its chunky apples and strong cinnamon flavor. He adored cinnamon in food. Avery used to make the very best snickerdoodle cookies for him.
The object of his thoughts was seated at the opposite end of the table from him and hadn’t glanced Colt’s way once. Colt had arrived late, so he had squeezed in between Derrick and Mrs. Bentley. Maybe breakfast felt awkward because Derrick was right there, keeping up pleasant conversation, and Avery was doing his best to ignore them both. And that hurt.
Last night had been one of the most intense encounters they’d ever had, and not just because they’d had sex in the tack room. Colt had instantly submitted to Avery, without the man speaking a single word. Avery didn’t need to. Couple or not, he’d always be Sir to Colt, and that instinct would never go away. The instinct to please, to submit, to give in to whatever Sir asked. No other Dom could ever do what Avery did for him, and last night had only proven it.
Avery hadn’t been gentle, and they’d parted ways silently, making no promises to each other. Colt wanted to talk to Avery now that he’d had a good night’s sleep, but Avery was doing his damnedest to ignore him, and Colt wasn’t going to go begging. He had more dignity than that.
But he also wanted a conversation, which wasn’t like him. Colt wasn’t much for sharing his feelings, which was one of the reasons he’d contacted Avery all those years ago. But these weren’t feelings over his intense job with SWAT, or keeping his sexuality under wraps at work. These feelings were about Avery and how much Colt still cared about him. Colt had gone to bed pleasantly sore from the rough fuck. Then he’d woken up from a sexy dream involving Avery so hard that he’d fingered himself in the shower while beating off, and that was why he was late to brunch.
No regrets about that, though.
His only real regret from last night was accepting Avery’s decree that they weren’t having sex again, without first sitting down and having a clear-headed conversation about it. One not marred by extreme emotions and a post-orgasm haze. Colt wasn’t against dragging Avery out of the room and back to his cabin right the hell now, but that would end in a lot of embarrassing gossip. He also didn’t want to be too pushy, because Avery knew how to double down when pressured. He needed to make sure he had Avery’s cell number before the man left the ranch today. The UCLA office number he’d given to Mack was no help while Avery was up here in Garrett.
Maybe I can drive down to his motel room. That could be fun, if Sir even let him in the door.
Except Avery wasn’t technically Colt’s Sir anymore, but that was a matter of negotiations. Avery had been as into their sex last night as Colt. His feelings were still there, he’d seen it in Avery’s eyes. Surely he wouldn’t turn his back on them a second time.
That wasn’t fair, though. Avery hadn’t turned his back. They’d both declared irreconcilable differences during the breakup. No single person was to blame. Maybe Colt’s behavior was the bulk of the issue but that was the past. They had to think about the future.
A future together. Now that Colt had Avery again, he didn’t want to let the man go. But what if Avery didn’t truly want a second chance for them?
Derrick nudged him in the ribs. “Dude, you might want to eat that pancake, instead of just hacking it up.”
Colt glanced down at his plate. He’d mangled his pancake into bits without really eating it, too distracted by his thoughts. “Probably so,” he replied with a soft chuckle.
“Back still bothering you?”
“Nah, just thinking too hard.” Colt’s back had been a little sore after his barn encounter, but he’d been more aware of the ache in his backside than anything else. He glanced down the table at the source of that particular ache and, shockingly, found Avery watching him. Avery’s eyes flickered down to his plate and one slender eyebrow rose in question.
He doesn’t want to be my Dom; he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend, but he’s still acting like he’s both.
It was as endearing as it was confusing as fuck. Either way, Colt stabbed a piece of pancake and shoved it into his mouth.
Down the table, Sophie was chatting with Wes about his upcoming movie role, and Colt listened to that while he shoveled food into his mouth. His appetite had been down since the shooting, and he didn�
�t want Avery to think he wasn’t taking care of himself.
After the meal, some of the guests helped Patrice clean up and load the industrial dishwasher. Colt tried to snag Avery’s attention, but he’d been corralled in a corner of the living room by Mack, Wes, and Sophie. Colt didn’t dare interrupt, or he’d probably get a glare from Mack, and Colt was doing his damnedest to get back into Mack’s good graces. But he wanted to talk to Avery, damn it.
I never used to be this indecisive.
“I can’t decide who you’re staring at like that,” Reyes said. He appeared by Colt’s side, his expression benign. “You pining for Mack or Avery?”
Colt’s instinctive “fuck off” died on his tongue. He and Reyes had reestablished a friendship after Colt’s secret came out, but it wasn’t as easy as before. A strange awkwardness lingered over it, as if one wrong word from Colt would cut it off at its knees. He couldn’t afford to lose any more friends.
“Both, actually,” Colt replied. He glanced around the dining room, but no one was standing nearby, so he lowered his voice and said, “Avery and I had sex in the barn last night.”
Reyes choked on air. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Uh…congrats?”
“I don’t know yet. We didn’t really talk about it afterward, but it was crazy intense, like it always used to be.” Old shame over never telling Mack and Reyes about his six-month relationship with Avery washed over him. But his friends had been going through their own shit at the time, and then he and Avery were over. There had never seemed to be a good time to tell his friends he’d once dated a guy who liked to tie him up and flog his ass. They didn’t know about the BDSM at all.
Reyes studied him with his dark eyes. “You starting something back up with him?”
“I don’t know, that’s why we need to talk. Seems stupid to do long distance with someone who travels for his job, but I still care about him.”
I still love him.
Feelings had never been never the issue; logistics were.
