“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
Diesel finished up securing the house, and gave Triton the task of starting some hot apple cider in the large pot on the stove. The best way to keep worry at bay was to keep busy. Best way to keep busy was to cook.
“I love hot apple cider,” Triton said, gazing down into the caramel colored liquid.
Diesel dropped a few cinnamon sticks into the pot. “Most people only drink it around holidays. I drink it whenever.”
Triton giggled, drawing a chuckle from him.
“Now, let’s get the stuff out of the fridge, you’re helping me make potato salad.”
“When’s this party again?”
“It’s tonight. Always at the end of the month.”
“Really?” Triton’s cute little face crinkled and Diesel found himself nodding with a smile.
“I’d make you peel potatoes, but with one hand, you’re going to stir the ingredients instead.”
“That’s all?” Triton’s eyes laughed up at him.
“If it’s not mixed right, the men won’t get their salad, and we don’t want that.”
Triton shook his head with a flashing smile and grabbed a wooden spoon. “No, we don’t want that.”
It took a few hours of the morning, working together, cooking and goofing around, before they were done with the salad and had it tucked into the fridge for the day. Diesel found himself laughing over Triton’s silliness more than he had in a long time. Toward three o’clock in the afternoon, he packed the salad in a container and drew Triton to the front door.
Once there, he tugged the dark beanie over Triton’s bright head and each strand of blond hair was hidden away. He then tucked the bemused young man into an oversized parka with a fur-lined hood and zipped it up. Next, he lifted each foot and put the boy’s feet into the new water galoshes he’d bought in Klamath Falls.
“There, that’ll keep you dry.”
“I guess so.” Triton’s giggle filled the room and Diesel smirked. Not only dry, it made Triton unrecognizable, but he didn’t say that because he didn’t want the fear back in the boy’s eyes.
He gazed down into Triton’s eyes for several long moments. The room felt extra warm and his chest grew tight.
That pink tongue darted out to lick at a plump bottom lip and Diesel lowered his head.
Pressing his mouth to Triton’s, he swallowed the boy’s gasp. After several moments, he lifted his head, hair mushed by Triton’s grasping fingers.
“There, now you’re ready.”
Triton blushed a pretty pink color and Diesel chuckled, drew his weapon from the side table near the door, and checked the clip.
Triton watched him with wide eyes. Diesel tucked the weapon into his jacket and the salad into an ice cooler along with ice. He pulled on his own rain gear and boots.
“Stay behind me.”
“Okay.”
He stepped out and surveyed the street while blocking Triton. After several minutes, he was satisfied and took Triton’s hand. Hurrying through the pouring rain, he tucked the boy into his SUV.
A quick five minutes later, he parked in the back spot behind Doc Vince’s place and entered through the back door right on time for Triton’s appointment.
In the back entryway, he turned Triton to face him and tugged the hood down and unzipped the boy’s coat before helping him out of it.
“You okay?” He cupped Triton’s cheek.
“I am. I’m always okay when I’m with you.” Triton licked at his bottom lip.
The words accompanied by that flashing tongue made his brain go a bit foggy and his chest tighten.
“Hi, Diesel.”
“Hey, Patty,” Diesel said to the woman coming into the hallway. “This is Triton.” He introduced Doctor Van Patton’s wife.
“Nice to meet you. Go right on back, the doctor’s expecting you both.”
“Thanks.” Taking Triton’s hand, he led the way farther down the hallway. Entering an office that he was very familiar with, Diesel closed the door. The doctor had been a life saver for him when he’d needed to release pressure from his job.
“Gentlemen, welcome.”
Vince Van Patton had a likable face. At almost sixty, he wore his salt and pepper hair to just below his ears. He had a trim mustache and a quick smile that lit up his brown eyes. When he stood to greet them, the doc’s belly fell over his belt a bit, but Vince said it was on account of Patty’s good cooking.
“Triton Scott? Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Van Patton, or you can called me Vince.”
Vince came across the room and shook Triton’s hand.
“I’ll let you know when we are done.” Vince gave Diesel a pointed look.
Triton gave him a wide doe-eyed look. “Diesel!”
He immediately drew the boy’s trembling body into his arms.
Triton clung to him.
“I’ll be right outside, boy. You’re safe.”
Triton took a trembling breath and released it shakily.
“You hear me?”
Triton nodded.
“Answer me,” he murmured the order against the boy’s ear.
“Yes, sir,” Triton whispered.
Diesel set Triton away from him and winked. Triton smiled like sunshine and Diesel let himself out of the office in search of coffee.
Taking care of Triton didn’t cut into his time, in fact, it gave him something to focus on besides his possible return date to the military. A date he avoided. Because he wasn’t sure he wanted to reenlist. And that had more to do with that boy behind the closed door than it did with his knee. He rubbed at his joint and upper thigh and stared at the television in the small room, not seeing the program.
Triton wasn’t his.
But what if he was?
What if it were possible to keep Triton here with him and keep him safe from harm? Triton wanted him, he’d seen the look of desire in his eyes, tasted it on his lips. Triton was eager to obey. That right there showed that Triton wasn’t opposed to his brand of control.
Diesel needed to be in charge. Some of his previous lovers had called him an overbearing asshole just before they left him. Shawn had wanted both, the control and the pain. Diesel hadn’t been enough for some and too much for others. Was it no wonder he found himself living alone more years than not?
He sighed and sipped at the coffee he’d snagged from the small table in the waiting room.
Triton wasn’t like Shawn, he reminded himself. The boy was younger than Shawn had been when they’d first met, but age was the only thing Triton had in common with Shawn. He could see that clearly now.
Yet, the sixteen year age difference was still humongous. Triton was a baby compared to him, but still so very moldable. Why did that thought make him want the boy even more?
He reached down and adjusted his dick before taking another swallow of the coffee.
Triton
Ted Zimmerman’s house was packed, both sides of the small street lined with trucks, SUVs, and cars.
“All these people play poker?” He rubbed his good hand down his pant leg, his gaze locked on Diesel’s face.
“Not all of them. It’s more of a chance to get out and celebrate. We meet pretty much once a month all year,” Diesel answered him after he came around the SUV and opened the door.
Triton gave a nervous giggle and promptly slipped in the mud. Diesel caught him from falling and he clung to the bigger man until they reached the front porch.
Triton’s feet dragged on the front steps. What if he said something stupid and embarrassed himself or worse, embarrassed Diesel?
He froze.
“What’s the matter?” Diesel turned and stepped closer, shielding him from the front door.
“I…”
“Breathe.” The soldier’s warm voice rushed over him, and he took in a deep breath. The anxiety and knowing he was a failure kept him from relaxing.
“I can’t go in there.” He violently shook his head.
“Okay.” Diesel�
��s voice was smoothing, calm, and controlled.
He glanced up quickly. There was only understanding in Diesel’s eyes. He swallowed, the disappointment cutting through him like a sharp knife. He wanted to please this man so badly.
“I can call and make our apologies. You don’t ever need to step through the door. They won’t even know you were here.”
Diesel would do that for him? Tears burned at the edges of his eyes.
Diesel would put off reconnecting with his friends for him?
Triton knew for a fact that Diesel had been waiting for this party. It showed in the way Diesel had prepared the salad and spoke of the party and his friends. The man was dressed so sexily—tight blue jeans with a buttoned down green dress shirt that matched his eyes. Triton had trimmed Diesel’s beard again for the party, and his leather jacket fit him perfectly. The ice chest filled with the specially made potato salad dangled from Diesel’s grip.
And here Diesel was ready to give it all up for him and his stupid fears.
“No,” he whispered softly, firmly. “Let’s go in.” He pushed away his fear and offered a tiny smile.
Diesel took his hand and squeezed. “I’ll be right beside you. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He nodded and held Diesel’s hand tightly as they stepped inside.
Sounds and smells assaulted him. He feared it would remind him of Clay and Auto’s parties, but this was so very different. So much nicer. The laughter was happy sounding, for one, and not filled with menace. People were mingling and smiling and dressed nicely. Instead of stale beer and bad breath, the rich smell of sauces and spice lingered on the air from the freshly baked lasagna he spotted on the table. He drew in a shaky breath as Diesel guided him toward the table and placed the potato salad next to other dishes.
“Hey!” a few of the people called out when they were spotted. He recognized Ted, Bill, Memphis, Vince, Patty, Sally, and Sissy out of the twenty some odd people there.
He lifted a hand with a brief wave, feeling overwhelmingly shy, his palms sweaty.
“Diesel.” Ted approached and shook Diesel’s hand and then smiled at him. “Triton.”
“Hi, Ted,” he said softly.
“You’re mine!” a small, dark-haired man squealed, coming across the room at him.
“Be gentle with him, baby,” Ted said to the man approaching him.
“Oh poo! I’m Miles.” With all smiles, he was introduced to Ted’s husband of eight years.
“This is Triton,” Diesel said for him, but Triton didn’t mind, it meant the big soldier hadn’t forgotten about him. He liked that.
“Hi.” He smiled and his cheeks heated.
“Come on,” Miles said before attempting to take his uninjured hand from Diesel’s large palm.
“Miles,” Ted growled.
“Sir?” Miles gazed wide-eyed.
“Ask.”
“Please?” Miles gave both him and Diesel a wide smile.
Diesel waited for him. It was his call. He squeezed the big man’s hand and then reached and took the one Miles offered.
Miles wore his blond hair spiked, tight fitting skinny jeans, a tank top covered by a black mesh shirt, and bare feet. His finger and toe nails were painted a metallic purple. Black eyeliner lined his large, gorgeous blue eyes and around his throat was a black, studded collar.
Triton felt so underdressed. He’d worn a nice, black buttoned down shirt with white pinstripes, but he’d had to have help getting it over his cast. He’d managed it with the sleeve rolled back, but some of the stitching in the material had pulled away. Blue jeans, black boots, and some gel in his hair rounded out his appearance for the evening.
“I should have dressed up,” he whispered.
“You look gorgeous, but we can fix you up a bit later if you want.” Miles pursed his lips and winked before leading him through the living room and into a kitchen filled with women and decorations along with the smell of baked cookies fresh from the oven.
“Oh! You found a friend!” One of the women squealed and gave him a wink.
Triton laughed. It felt so good to laugh. The women converged on him and touched his hair and pinched his cheeks.
“Back away, ladies! He’s on loan. I almost had to kill a Dom to get him,” Miles hooted and pushed his way through. Grabbing a box of different colored markers from a kitchen drawer, he tossed them on the counter. Miles slid up to Triton and eased his cast to the bar top.
“Which Dom?” one of the ladies asked. He was wondering the same thing.
“Mind your own business,” Miles said, selecting another color to finish off his signature right on the top of Triton’s cast.
“Oh, I’m next,” the long-haired beauty to Triton’s left said and selected a sea foam green colored pen and gave him a smile.
“So how’d you hurt-?”
“Nope, no way, Carla,” Miles objected, giving the blonde, bobbed-haired girl a stern look. “No asking personal questions. This is a party. If Triton wants to share, he can, but that’s up to him.”
“Oh, okay,” Carla said around a bite of cookie. She placed one near Triton, and he snatched it up and ate it.
“Oh man, this is so good.” He caught a piece of chocolate before it could escape and licked his fingers before finishing off the treat.
She smiled. “Cool name.”
“Thank you, it’s one of the choices my parents made that I actually like.”
The group of women smiled and laughed and introduced themselves. The long-haired dark one was Rachael Bains, sister to Sheriff Memphis Bains. Carla was Bill Parson’s wife, and the other girls were from various neighborhoods. Sally from the train station was there, and she stopped by and cupped his cheek.
“How are you doing, sweetie?”
“I’m good, Sally. Thank you so much.”
She winked and made her way to the punch bowl. “Lord help y’all if this isn’t spiked!”
“Of course, it’s spiked! Are you crazy?” Patty giggled and held up the bottle of vodka.
“Well, in that case, I’ll take a cup,” he said, and before he thought twice, Carla placed a cup in his hand.
“Go easy on that,” Diesel’s voice rumbled from the doorway, bringing his head up.
He smiled across the room at the older man.
“Oh shoo!” Carla laughed. “It’s his first one.”
“I will,” he promised Diesel, his smile growing.
Diesel cleared his throat, rubbed at the back of his neck, and turned back into the living room.
Silence fell over the room, and even Miles lifted his head to stop drawing the flower next to his name.
“What?” Triton said, mouth open, hand suspended in the middle of taking a drink.
“Oh, my god. Did you see his face?” Rachael hissed.
“I sure did,” Carla cackled.
“Saw it this afternoon,” Patty chimed in smugly.
“Saw what? What about his face?” Triton asked, lowering the drink before grabbing another cookie.
“Nothing, darling. Now you just sit still and look pretty,” Miles huffed, throwing the group an annoyed look. “They just need to mind their own business.”
“Oh, to be that young and innocent,” Sally said, jumping up to sit on the counter with a cup of punch. “I know this is personal, so you can just say veto, but how old are you, Triton?”
“Twenty-two.”
The girls sighed all dreamy-like and smiled.
“So much cuter and nicer than that rat bastard,” he heard Carla whisper to Patty.
“What rat bastard?” Triton whispered to Miles.
Miles smiled with a half smirk. “This is not the place to talk about that.” He threw the girls another dark look. “So, knock it off, will you, or I’ll ban you from the kitchen. And the cookies and punch.” The girls broke out in laughter, and Triton found himself joining in.
“I heard you stopped by Vince’s,” Miles whispered.
Triton nodded with a smile. “I r
eally like him.”
“He’s helped me so much,” Miles said.
“I think he’s going to help me a lot.” It had been such a relief to share with Vince what Clay and Auto had done to him. They’d just touched on his parents’ abuse when Vince said Triton needed a break. Sharing a little about such deep things went a long way. He had another appointment to see Vince in four days, and he was looking forward to it. That meant four more days with Diesel.
An hour later found him pleasantly buzzed with a colorful cast along with Miles and Sally in the upstairs master bathroom.
“Here, try this,” Miles said and came closer to apply the cover up to the bruise on his face.
He held still beneath Miles’ touch. That was when he caught sight of Sally’s throat. She also wore a collar, only it wasn’t leather with studs like the one Miles wore, but rather a silver chain that was secured with a tiny lock.
“Why the collars?” he blurted, and then blushed.
“Why do you think they’re collars?” Sally asked after exchanging a look with Miles.
“Because I went to a party once, and I saw them on submissives.”
“A party?”
“Yeah. It was a BDSM club.”
“Did you like it?” Miles asked, dabbing the makeup beneath his eye.
“Some of it.” He glanced away.
“Hang tight, I have something that will make your eyes pop.” Sally dashed from the room.
“What parts of it?”
“I liked the big Doms, but I didn’t want anybody hitting me.”
“Oh, honey, the scene is much more than that. It’s not about hitting. It’s about giving over control and trusting another human being who can make you fly.”
“My boyfriend found out I went and beat me,” he whispered with shame.
“Boyfriend?” Miles stammered.
“Ex-boyfriend, I mean. Yeah, he said since I went there, I must want to be beat.”
“Well, let me tell you something,” Miles hissed, holding his gaze. “Your ex-boyfriend is a stupid jackass and deserves to have charges pressed. And if he tried that shit at any of our parties? Well, let’s just say that our Doms would beat his ass out the freaking door.”
Triton laughed through his tears. “I was so green. I went looking for something.” Someone like Diesel.
Bringing It Home (Code Of Honor Book 3) Page 12
