Bouncing Back

by L. A. Witt

  “How’s your face healing?” I asked.

  Eyes still fixed on the thin crowd, he absently touched the bruise, and his lips tightened. “Not as tender anymore.” A faint laugh broke through the stoicism. “Chris thinks it’s kind of hot, so I guess that’s a silver lining.”

  I chuckled. “Always look on the bright side, eh?”

  He glanced at me, and the smile cracked a little more of his stern expression but only for a second. As he shifted his attention back to the crowd, his features hardened again. “Something’s going on.” He didn’t move, so I assumed he didn’t mean there was something happening that needed intervention.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” He gnawed his lip, brow furrowing. “The crowd’s been different lately. More…” He gestured at his face.

  My stomach knotted. “So this isn’t just people being cranky because of the hot weather?”

  No laugh. Slowly, he shook his head. “Last summer was hot too, and people drank more, but otherwise…” Another shake. “I don’t know if people are just tense because of the political situation, or what, but we’ve been busier lately than we’ve been since I started here. We, meaning…” He gestured at himself, me, Casey, and the other bouncers.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. I’d been hoping the uptick in tension had just been part of the club’s normal ebb and flow. Sort of like the depressing vibe we got during the holidays—most people were off visiting family or whatever, and a lot of the people who showed up here did so because they had nowhere else to go.

  But no, whatever was going on right now wasn’t normal. Either people were coming in and trying to stir shit up, or the club was suddenly attracting an unusually volatile section of the population. Or people were just that tense and stressed.

  Whatever it was, I didn’t know what to do about it aside from intervene, restrain, and defuse when needed. Which did nothing to help my uneasiness going into those situations. I had no idea what we were up against. If these were just people blowing gaskets because they were stressed or homophobes trying to make Wilde’s look dangerous so people would stop coming, or…what.

  That meant I also had no idea how much it might escalate.

  Julien shifted his weight and exhaled. “We might have to bring up the idea of metal detectors again.”

  I scowled. “The club will be shut down in a week. No one’s going to go party where they have to be frisked first.” Neither of us was in the mood to make the obvious joke. After someone had punched Julien and Casey narrowly dodged another bottle-turned-shiv, no one at Wilde’s had much of a sense of humor left. The bartenders were nervous. The regulars were uneasy. The edginess among me and my fellow bouncers reminded me of a dog backed into a corner—hackles up, a hair trigger away from not just baring teeth but gnashing them.

  “I don’t like it either,” Julien said. “But it’s only a matter of time before someone comes in with a switchblade up his sleeve.” We exchanged glances, and neither of us added “Or something worse than a switchblade,” but I was pretty sure we were both thinking it.

  When he broke eye contact, he fixed his attention on something across the room. And he fixed it there intensely. “We can’t take the chance of someone getting hurt.”

  I looked in the direction he was staring and wasn’t at all surprised he was watching his husband. Chris seemed oblivious to us. He was smiling and bantering with four guys who were waiting for their drinks. No worry. No stress. There was a bar standing between him and any potential danger, not to mention his ex-Legionnaire husband who’d snap anyone like a twig if they even thought about fucking with Chris.

  An image of Samir flashed through my mind, and my gut clenched. I’d be as tense as Julien if Samir were behind that bar. Or in front of it. In fact, I wondered if it was such a hot idea to have him come here on my breaks, especially with his volatile ex in the picture. If Jesse had a brain in his head—and that was questionable—he wouldn’t come back to Wilde’s, but I wasn’t convinced he was out of the picture. We could always meet somewhere else. There were plenty of restaurants within a few minutes on Broadway. We couldn’t exchange dirty promises or the odd blowjob like we could in the VIP lounge, but at least then he wouldn’t have to walk through the increasingly unpredictable crowd.

  I shuddered. He’d had his share of excitement in this club. Next time we met up while I was at work, it would be someplace else.

  ~*~

  “You really think it’s that unsafe?” Samir wiped sweat off his forehead as he reclined beside me on the bed. “It’s always seemed pretty low-key to me.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I shifted onto my side, propping myself up with an elbow. “But lately, I don’t know. We’ve broken up more fights in the last couple of weeks than we did in the six months before it.”

  Samir shuddered. “Any idea why?”

  I shook my head and sighed. “No. We talked to the owner tonight, and he’s going to get in touch with Seattle PD. See if they have any thoughts.” I didn’t mention that things had been quiet right up until the night he and Jesse had faced off. “It might just be one of those periods where there’s a lot of tension, and people get stupid when they’re drunk. There’s an election coming up. Sports playoffs. Any number of things in the news. When things are tense, stuff happens in clubs. Just part of the game, you know?”

  He shuddered again, breaking eye contact as he slid a hand over my forearm. “That sounds stressful for guys who do what you do.”

  “I’ll take it over being in another warzone,” I whispered. Then I cleared my throat. “But until things quiet down a little, I think if we’re going to have dinner together when I’m working, we should meet somewhere away from the club. Just to be on the safe side.”

  His eyes flicked up again. “Except we’re always upstairs. Away from the crowd.”

  And if someone brings in a gun or a bomb, we’re—

  I shook that thought away. It wasn’t like we’d had any threats or signs of major violence. Just more fisticuffs and arguments than usual. “We still have to get upstairs.”

  Samir smiled, though he looked nervous, and brought my fingers up to his lips. “Okay. If you’d rather meet someplace else, we can.”

  I nodded. “Just until things settle down a bit. I don’t want you there if something happens.” I squeezed his hand. “But I do still want to see you in the evenings. It’s, uh, something to look forward to during my shift.”

  His smile got a little bigger and less nervous, and he leaned in for a soft kiss. “There’s a café half a block down Broadway that I love anyway. We can just meet there.”

  “Works for me.” I slid my arm over him. “And thanks. I know it sounds kind of paranoid, but—”

  “No, it’s fine.” He cupped my face. “I’m used to the exact opposite of a guy trying to look out for me. It’s kind of a nice switch.”

  My gut clenched at the reminder of the asshole who’d treated him like garbage. I moved closer so I was pressed up against Samir. “Nothing’s happening to you on my watch.”

  “I know.” His fingers slid up into my hair. “You’ve never given me any reason to doubt that.”

  Then he pulled me into a kiss, and we melted together. His mention of Jesse was still under my skin like an irritating itch. Instead of reminding me a mosquito had gotten too close, though, it was a reminder that someone had thought nothing of hurting Samir. I’d known about it since literally the moment we’d met, but the longer this went on, the more it infuriated me. And worried me. Jesse had been quiet lately, but how long would that last? How long until he tried to fuck with Samir again? And how determined was he to get Samir back?

  I held Samir tighter. Kissing him deeply, I moved on top of him, and I realized as I settled over him that it was as much to protect him as anything. Like I could somehow shield him from real and potential threats. Which wasn’t entirely rational, but indulging it was a hell of a lot more calming than thinking about how little I could really do to kee
p him safe.

  Of course he was a grown man who could stand on his own two feet. He didn’t need to be protected. I didn’t want to smother him or emasculate him. I just didn’t want anything to happen to him.

  He’s been through enough, for God’s sake.

  Samir whimpered softly into my kiss, and his fingers raked through my short hair. I slid an arm under him, and he arched to let me. We kissed harder, more frantically, like we hadn’t just fucked twenty minutes ago. His cock was getting hard again. Mine wasn’t far behind. And suddenly this seemed like the best outlet for this nervous, protective energy simmering beneath the surface. I wanted to protect him. I wanted him safe. I wanted him now.

  Holding him tighter, kissing him harder, I couldn’t resist rocking my hips a little, our dicks rubbing against each other, and he broke the kiss with a throaty moan.

  “Fuck…”

  “We could.” Hopefully I sounded playful and not like I was damn near vibrating with a weird desperation I didn’t want to explain.

  “Yeah, we could.” He ran his fingertips down the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “Especially if you’re feeling as toppy as you seem.”

  “I seem toppy?”

  “Kind of.” He pushed his hips up against mine. “And we haven’t switched at all yet, so…” He lifted an eyebrow.

  I gulped. “I didn’t think you switched.”

  “I don’t very often.” The tip of his tongue darted across his lips. “But when the spirit moves me…”

  “Is it moving you now?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I pressed my erection against his. “How long’s it been?”

  “It’s…” He closed his eyes and squirmed, rubbing right back against me. “Do toys count?”

  The mental image of him fucking himself with a toy sent another shiver through me. “Yeah. They count.”

  He grinned. “Well, I’ve had to keep myself entertained somehow on Friday and Saturday nights.”

  Groaning softly, I leaned in for another kiss. “You realize that now I’m going to spend all my Friday and Saturday night shifts at least at half mast, right?”

  Judging by the way his grin turned even more evil? Yeah. He knew.

  He slid his hands up my chest and teased a nipple with his thumb. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t sext you while you’re at work?”

  “You probably shouldn’t, but I won’t tell you not to.”

  Samir laughed. “Duly noted.” He winked and ran his hands down my sides and over my hips. “So. You game with being on top tonight?”

  “You better believe it,” I growled and pressed my lips to his. He dragged his nails along my skin, and I kissed him harder. That only encouraged him, which only encouraged me, and in no time, we were panting between kisses and pawing at each other and making each other sweat all over again.

  Abruptly, he broke away. “Why…don’t you have a condom on yet?”

  “Because we were—”

  “Condom. Now.”

  “Mmm,” I grinned against his neck. “Who’s being toppy now?”

  He moaned, arching under me. “C’mon, Elliott.”

  “All right, all right.” I nipped his neck. “Patience.” As if I was any more patient than he was right then.

  I quickly put on a condom and some lube while he got on his hands and knees. With a couple of slicked up fingers, I made sure his hole was lubed and stretched enough to take me, then guided myself to him. Samir moaned as I slid the head of my cock back and forth over his hole. Every time I paused but didn’t push in, he swore.

  “Fucking tease,” he groaned.

  “I can do this all night if—”

  “Don’t.” Samir leaned back against me. “C’mon.”

  Teasing was fun, but damn, he sounded as needy as I felt, so I held my breath as I pressed against him. He was completely still and silent too, right up until the head slipped into him.

  “Oh God.” His shoulders quivered as he rocked back to draw me deeper. “More.”

  “Getting there,” I murmured. Little by little, I sank into him, and his head fell forward as he groaned. His muscles rippled and his arms shook underneath him, so I guided him all the way down onto his stomach.

  “There,” I murmured in his ear as I slowly buried myself inside him. “Now you just get to lie there and enjoy it.”

  A shudder and a strangled moan told me Samir was good with that. I kissed the side of his neck and kept moving, finding a steady, fluid rhythm that wasn’t even fast or hard enough to make the bed creak, but it made him gasp and curse, so it was perfect.

  I pushed myself up on my arms so I could look down at his gorgeous body. The lack of contact between my chest and his back was jarring, but the view? Watching him arch and squirm while my dick slid between his round ass cheeks? Holy fuck.

  “God, El,” he breathed. “You feel so good.”

  I bit my lip and moaned. It was a damn shame I had to hold myself up. I would have loved to slide my hands all over his smooth skin. I was balls deep in him and wasn’t touching him enough.

  All I want is to make you feel good, baby.

  I shifted onto one arm so I could slide my palm up his back.

  How could anyone want you to feel bad?

  As soon as the thought crossed my mind, that fierce protectiveness surged to the surface, and I sank back down onto him so I could hold him close. I rode him… Not harder, but kind of. He didn’t like it rough. I wasn’t in the mood for rough anyway. I just needed him, and that need drove me on. In this position, I didn’t have a lot of range, but that was fine—I didn’t want to pull out very far. Not even so I could thrust back in. All I needed was to move enough to turn him on, and judging by the way he moaned under me, it was working just fine.

  I kissed the back of his neck. When I huffed out a breath, he shivered, which pushed him up against my chest, and I held him even closer. I’d never had this feeling before, this need to not only make a man fall apart, but also to hold him together and protect him. As if I wasn’t just fucking him into oblivion, I was physically shielding him from the rest of the world.

  “This… This feel good?” My voice came out ragged and shaky.

  “So good.” He sounded close to tears. Shuddering, he buried his forehead in the pillow. “Keep… Gonna…”

  God, yes, baby. Let go. Come.

  I thrust just a little harder, and his moans curled my toes and spurred me on. The sounds he made crescendoed every time I drove into him. I was dizzy, breathless, completely overwhelmed by him and by his pleasure and by the need to drive him insane and keep him sane and—

  “Fuck!” The pillow muffled Samir’s cry, but the helpless sound reverberated through me, and it only took a couple of thrusts before my voice joined his as I released deep inside him.

  Then I sighed, and just like that, we were still. I panted against his neck. His body trembled under me. And even while my body felt spectacular, there was a tight spot in my chest and a mental snag that my brain couldn’t get past. Holding Samir tight like this, my cock still buried inside him as the last vestiges of my orgasm faded, I couldn’t shake the thought of someone wanting to hurt him. I couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt anyone, but in that moment, I wanted to cry just thinking about someone ever laying a hand on this man for any other reason than to make him feel wanted and needed.

  Anyone ever touches you like that again, I thought as I brushed my lips across his damp, feverish skin, I will break them in half.

  Samir shivered under me. Then he felt around, and when he found my hand, he gripped it tight. “We may have to do that more often.”

  “Switch?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I nuzzled the side of his neck. “Any time.”

  Chapter 12

  Samir

  I was on autopilot at the clinic the next morning. Last night had been so…different.

  It wasn’t even that big of a deal that we’d switched. Sometimes I was in the mood for it, sometimes I wa
sn’t, and last night I had been. Today, I could still feel everything we’d done, and not just because we’d had sex three times before we’d finally gone to sleep. It wasn’t even that he’d topped me—it was how.

  Whenever I’d bottomed for men in the past—particularly the last two—it had always felt detached in a weird way. They’d been pretty good about prepping me and not hurting me, but there’d always been this feeling like nothing had existed for them except the hole they were screwing. My ass may as well have been a Fleshlight, and the rest of me had been irrelevant.

  Not with Elliott.

  I shivered in my desk chair, igniting some of those lingering aches in my hips and ass. His cock had felt amazing, and he’d made me come so hard I’d almost cried, but something about the way he’d held me had taken everything to a whole new level. As if, even with my back to him, he’d been able to tell me without a doubt that he was completely and totally focused on me, how I felt, and what I needed. Or maybe I just intuitively knew he was because that was how he’d been every single time we’d been together.

  It probably shouldn’t have been a novelty. Other people in normal relationships probably weren’t surprised when their partner cared enough to be in tune to them. After Ollie and Jesse, though, it was a novelty for me, and I fully intended to savor every moment of it.

  Ideally without compromising my job, though. I needed to focus, because I had appointments coming in shortly. In fact, someone was barking happily in the next room, so the day was off and running. I took a few deep breaths, swallowed the last of my cooling coffee, and left my office to see my first patient.

  As I continued through my day, my mind wandered to Elliott more than it probably should have, but not enough to keep me from concentrating on my patients. It wasn’t the same level of distraction as I’d had with Jesse. With him, I’d been wringing my hands with worry, and there were days when I swore I was on the edge of a panic attack for hours on end. With Elliott, it was more like having a pleasant buzz. A little extra lightness to my mood. When I’d stop to think about it, of course I’d zero right in on him, but the rest of the time, I was just happily going about my day. It was a nice switch, that was for sure, and I counted down the minutes until I’d see him again.