Come in From the Cold

by Tymber Dalton

  No, it wasn’t logical, but feelings weren’t logical.

  Love wasn’t logical.

  And Douglas held his own guilt now. Did he kill his wife?

  No.

  But she’d gotten pregnant because of him. She’d given birth to his baby. It was that pregnancy that had, ultimately, killed her.

  That had been his own guilt to hold, and keeping her secret had been his penance to perform.

  It was the least he could do for her, considering that he would live, and raise their daughter, and find joy with Connor.

  Except he apparently couldn’t even do that.

  * * * *

  Okay, now Connor officially felt like an utter shit. But he’d started it, so at this point he’d let it run through to the bitter end.

  And love the hell out of his boy later to make up for putting him through it.

  Douglas finally opened his eyes and met his gaze again. “Then she said, ‘Ask me again.’ So right there in the shower, I dropped onto one knee and proposed to her. And she said yes. That night she slept in my bed with me, both of us naked and holding each other. Until the day she died, we shared a bed every night and held each other every night. Because I did love her, and she’d always loved me the way I’d loved you.

  “We couldn’t have had sex that night anyway, even if I had been willing, because she’d been used as a punching bag. He’d mostly avoided her face, though, so when I married her the next afternoon, at least she didn’t look like I’d beaten the crap out of her. I talked to the county clerk, told them the story we told everyone else, and she waived the six-day waiting period because Mackie was pregnant.

  “We did a lot of crying over the next few days, both of us. But I wanted that baby, and she knew it. Because I wanted him, she wanted him, too. He really was our baby from that moment in the shower. And when we lost him, it damn near killed her, because she thought she’d disappointed me, even though she hadn’t done a fucking thing wrong. Nothing I ever said could convince her that I wasn’t ashamed of her, or disappointed in her. She felt she failed me, and she never did. I loved her. She heaped guilt on herself for everything I gave up—the priesthood, you. She blamed herself and when she was pregnant with Zee, she begged me to never tell our daughter she’d once wanted an abortion.”

  Connor forced himself to gentle his voice. “You slept with me, and we weren’t married. Why did you want to wait with her? I mean, besides the fact that he’d beat her up?”

  Tears spilled down Douglas’ cheeks. “Because back then I considered you my husband. We couldn’t get married back then, but I knew I’d never sleep with anyone else but you. And she knew that, too. That I considered what I’d promised you to be a marriage vow.”

  Shame over his lingering doubts about his boy filled Connor. Here he’d basically been a manwhore, while his poor boy had literally locked himself away from the world, alone and missing him. He’d self-medicated with sex while Douglas had self-medicated with the priesthood.

  Connor released their cocks and reached up with both hands to gently wipe Douglas’ tears away. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”

  “I wanted to prove to Mackie that I loved her, not just because I wanted to save the baby. We were happy. When we found out she was pregnant with Zee, I never thought I’d ever be happier. She was our beautiful blessing. Even through all of that, Mackie still let me hold space for you in my heart, honored who you were to me and what I felt for you. Let me grieve for you. Kind of like being poly, but never sleeping with or even seeing the other person. She’d known me back then, knew how much I loved and missed you. She also knew I was giving up not just my vow to the Church, but the vow I’d made in my heart to stay faithful to you. It didn’t matter that the Church wouldn’t recognize what we had. In my heart, I was and would always be your husband.”

  Connor cradled him against his chest and nuzzled his face in his hair. “I wish I could have met her.”

  Douglas sniffled, his voice breaking. “Me, too. She was sweet, and funny, and reminded me of you in a lot of ways. I think that’s why I could love her almost as much as I loved you.”

  Connor held him, gently rocking him. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I…I’m sorry. I should have known it was something to do with her. I just…I’m an asshole, and I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Chapter 10, Verse 2.”

  Douglas looked up at him. “There is no Verse 2.”

  “There is now.” He kissed Douglas. “Master promises to admit when he’s wrong and apologize to his boy, because Master loves his boy.” He kissed him again. “I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

  Douglas played with the front of Connor’s shirt. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

  “Stop apologizing for him. You didn’t do it.” He closed his eyes and inhaled Douglas’ scent before opening them again to stare into his eyes. “You have no idea how much I needed you in my life back then, and how much you healed me. How much I fucking loved you for making me feel like I was a good person. Like I could look into your eyes and see myself the way you saw me.”

  Douglas sat back enough he could meet Connor’s gaze. “That’s because you were and are a good person, Master. That’s one of the reasons why I love you so much.”

  Connor cupped his face again. “I don’t deserve you, baby. Is there anything I could ever do that you wouldn’t forgive?”

  Douglas sadly smiled. “I know you, and I know your heart. You aren’t capable of doing something I couldn’t forgive you for.”

  Connor desperately needed to lighten the tone, and right now. He smiled. “But I’m a very bad man, and I do very bad things to you.”

  Douglas’ smile turned playful. “But you do them so very well, Master, and I very much love how you do them to me. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into by giving myself to you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Douglas desperately loved this man. No matter how Connor viewed himself, Douglas knew his heart was good, true. Intense and passionate, yes, but all the better for it.

  What Connor had survived as a kid would have broken some others, but not him. Connor took that trauma deep within himself and remade it into something he could use to fuel his inner fire.

  Douglas caught Connor’s hand and pulled it between them, pressed his fingers around their cocks. “Master said he wanted some time with his boy.”

  “Baby, I—”

  Douglas slanted his lips over Connor’s, his heart racing when Connor took over and buried his free hand in Douglas’ hair to hold him in place.

  The hand around their cocks squeezed, making Douglas moan.

  Connor drew back just enough to break their kiss. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he hoarsely asked.

  “I want to ride your cock, Master.” Douglas leaned over to yank open the nightstand and grabbed the lube from there. He flicked the cap open and drizzled it over their cocks, where Connor had stroked both of them hard again. Then he snapped the bottle shut and tossed it onto the bed.

  Douglas grabbed Connor by the shirt and rose up enough Connor could align the head of his cock with Douglas’ ass. As he slowly settled onto Connor’s cock, he watched his guy’s eyes the entire time, never breaking away from Connor’s gaze. They’d fucked like bunnies the past couple of days, at least, so it was only a slightly pinchy burn as he buried all eight inches of his husband’s meat in his hole.

  “Fuck,” Connor whispered. He held on to Douglas’ hips as Douglas smiled and got settled, wanting his ass tight against his husband’s thighs.

  “That’s better,” Douglas said. Connor didn’t need to pull him in for another kiss, because Douglas was already there, slanting his mouth over Connor’s and this time taking control of it.

  Teeth bumping, tongues and lips, nipping, biting, until it was Connor once again in full control.

  Douglas slowly rose, a roll to his hips as he did, settling slowly again and loving the way Connor’s gaze turned dark, hooded.

  Hungry.

&n
bsp; Connor leaned back, arms propped on the bed, and spread his thighs wider. “Ride me, baby.”

  Flexing his ass muscles around Connor’s cock earned him a needy, deep groan, but Connor’s gaze remained fixed on him.

  Then the psychologist leaned in and tapped his shoulder, whispering to him before settling back to watch.

  “He never let you fuck him, did he?” Douglas breathlessly asked.

  Connor shook his head, then reached over and unfastened the bottom button of Douglas’ shirt. “No. He did other things to me, but never made me do that.”

  Douglas rose up and slammed back down onto Connor’s cock. “Maybe it’s time you fuck yourself a priest, Connor.”

  Faster than Douglas could even register it, Connor had flipped him over onto his back without even pulling out. He slung Douglas’ legs over his shoulders and kept his feet planted on the floor.

  Like that, he had leverage and didn’t waste a bit of it. Dark clouds filled his expression as he threw Douglas probably the most bone-jarring fuck he’d ever given him.

  And considering how hard he knew Connor could fuck, that was saying something.

  “Fucker took the one goddamned thing I could still feel close to my dad with and ruined it for me,” he growled.

  Douglas grabbed Connor’s shirt and held on. “I know.”

  “I was a fucking kid!”

  “That’s right.”

  Douglas suspected Connor didn’t even realize he was crying now, but his tears fell like rain on Douglas and he knew he needed to help his husband lance this emotional boil once and for all, open it up and let it truly start healing.

  Connor’s hands grabbed him by the shoulders for leverage. “Fucker had been moved there after fucking other kids. I wasn’t even the first one. Probably wasn’t the last, either.”

  “You weren’t.” Connor’s left hand settled around Douglas’ neck, squeezing, but Douglas refused to panic. He’d walked this path with Connor before, many times as kids, and he had trust and faith in Connor the Dom, the adult.

  The Husband.

  “I thought he really liked me. Told me he fucking loved me like a son, even after I confessed I was gay. Then he starts doing that shit to me. Fucked up my head.”

  “He used you,” Douglas gasped. “Groomed you. Lied to you. How angry did that make you?”

  “I wanted to fucking kill him. Kill all those bastards.”

  “And then I left you.”

  Connor’s hand tightened even more and Douglas hoped breath play wasn’t going to start making a regular appearance in their sex life.

  “And then you fucking left me and became a goddamned priest?” he roared. Connor fell still, panting, but he hadn’t come yet, Douglas knew.

  Connor released his grip on Douglas’ throat, and his fingers slid down, grabbed the collar, and ripped it off him, throwing it behind him.

  He scooped Douglas into his arms. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Baby…” He hugged Douglas against him like a desperately drowning man. “Jesusfuck, why didn’t you stop me?”

  Douglas cupped Connor’s face in his hands and brushed his tears away. “Because 6:1 and 6:2. Because I fucking trust you, even when you don’t trust yourself. I always have, and I always will. Because I love you and know that Connor Davis Koenig Strickland will never harm me. You’re not capable of it. And I’m strong enough to take anything you need me to take for you.”

  “Baby—”

  “Shh, Master.” Douglas brushed a kiss across the tip of his nose. “I really want to feel you breed my ass,” he whispered.

  Connor stared at him for a long moment before rolling them over again, back to where they started, but with Connor flat on his back. Only this time, he stared up at Douglas with wonder in his eyes.

  As Douglas rode him, rolling his hips and settling into a sweet, sexy rhythm, Connor unbuttoned Douglas’ shirt from the bottom up. Followed by his shirt cuffs, before sitting up to push it off Douglas, peel it down his arms and drop it to the floor, quickly followed by his undershirt

  Connor shrugged his own shirt off and stroked his hands up and down Douglas’ arms.

  “I thought you wanted to fuck yourself a priest?” Douglas teased.

  “I want to fuck my husband.” Connor laced fingers with him and lay back again, propping his elbows against the bed so Douglas could lean forward and use Connor’s arms to brace himself.

  Connor’s fingers tightened around Douglas’. “Doctor…Douglas …Phillip…Strickland.” His left thumb stroked Douglas’ hand. “My husband.” His gaze clouded. “Never let me choke you like that again. I could have hurt you.”

  “But you didn’t. You never did, and you never will.”

  “You trust me too much, baby.”

  “You don’t trust yourself enough. But that’s okay, because I have plenty of faith for both of us.”

  Between them, Douglas’ cock throbbed, leaking pre-cum and bobbing all over the place with every stroke, but he wouldn’t touch himself. Wouldn’t even ask Connor to get him off.

  He was his Master’s good boy, and right now, he needed to give Connor what he needed.

  What he’d been long overdue—healing.

  Redemption.

  Grace.

  “What if there is a Hell?” Connor whispered, his voice sounding strained, desperate. “What if there is a Hell and I’m going there and you’re going to Heaven?”

  Douglas stopped moving and leaned in, stroking his face, resting his forehead against Connor’s, holding his gaze. “We’ve already survived Hell. We’re in Heaven now. Period. No matter what happens after we die, I’m finding you. Because anywhere I am that you’re not would be Hell, anyway. And if I’m going to Heaven and they tell me you can’t, then I don’t want to be there. Fuck them.”

  Connor studied him. “I really think you would tell St. Peter to go fuck himself.”

  “Damn right, I would.”

  The corner of Connor’s mouth finally twitched in a smile.

  “What?” Douglas asked.

  “I don’t think you’re a very good priest, baby.”

  Douglas grinned. “Then it’s a damn good thing I went back to school and got my psychology doctorate, isn’t it?”

  * * * *

  Connor stared up at him. He realized what Douglas was trying to do and loved him even more for it. “I mean it, baby. Reel me in when I need it.”

  “You didn’t need it. You needed to explode. You’ve held it in too fucking long.”

  Connor tugged on his hands to get Douglas to let go and wrapped his arms around him. “I need to explode, all right,” he said. “Hurry up and get me off so I can do right by you.”

  Douglas grinned. “Is that an order, Master?”

  “Fuckin’ A, it is, boy.” His hands settled on Douglas’ ass and urged him faster, harder, until Connor was once again chasing his nut and closing in on it.

  This adorable, patient, willing man. His boy.

  His true savior, and that was no exaggeration. When he’d first met Douglas, he’d been giving serious thought to maybe killing himself. He’d thought he was damned anyway, so what difference did it make?

  Then they’d moved and he’d met Douglas, and…

  Maybe it was fate, or God, or whatever.

  He’d met Douglas and wanted to hang around this world, wanted to be a better person.

  Wanted to enjoy life.

  Wanted to keep Douglas looking at him the way he’d always looked at him, like he was good, like he wasn’t…tainted.

  He’d always had it in his mind that he would fight hard to make a better life for himself so that when Douglas returned after college, he could take care of him. Of them.

  Except Douglas hadn’t returned.

  Until he did.

  Pleasure built and coiled, tighter, growing and building in his balls until, finally, he tipped over the edge and filled Douglas’ ass, every throb and pump joining them, part of him becoming part of his husband, even just a little.

&nbs
p; Connor tightly held him. “I love you so fucking much. I can’t lose you again and live.”

  “Shh.” Douglas rolled them onto their sides, holding him. Connor didn’t know when he’d started crying again, but Douglas consoled him, and he allowed himself to close his eyes and turn himself over to his boy.

  The only person he’d ever really trusted. The only one to know all his secrets and still love him unconditionally.

  Finally, he realized at some point he’d dozed off, because his head was resting on Douglas’ bare chest and the light in the room looked different.

  Disoriented, he lifted his head.

  “An hour,” Douglas said, sounding amused.

  Shit. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Because you needed it.”

  He stared down into his boy’s grey eyes, flecks of granite and midnight and silver all mixed and melted together.

  Connor untangled himself from Douglas, stood up, and finished stripping. After locating the bottle of lube, he slicked Douglas’ cock and quickly got him fully hard again.

  Connor straddled him. “I don’t know how you put up with me, baby.”

  “Because I love you, Master. I always have.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Stop.” He did stop moving, especially at Douglas’ sharp tone and the dark expression he now wore. “10:3—Master’s not allowed put himself down when boy is honest about his feelings.”

  Connor studied the way his brow furrowed, his intense gaze. “10:3, huh?”

  “Yes, Connor. 10:3.”

  Connor stared at him for a long, quiet moment. “Well, I suppose I could let you write one of the damn verses.”

  “Yeah, you could.”

  Rolling onto their sides again, Connor grabbed his leg behind the knee and held it up, out of the way as Douglas started fucking him. “Do you have any idea how you literally saved my life back then?” Connor softly asked.

  Douglas reached down and slid his hand over Connor’s, where he was holding his leg, and took over, hooking his arm under it. “Yeah. But that’s fair, because you saved mine.”

  “What?”