Open Wounds: The Boxed Set

by Michelle Frost

  Dagen had dropped his head forward again, and spread his legs a little wider, giving Ollie better access. Leaning back, Ollie opened the lube and squeezed a big dollop into his palm, spreading some over himself, and then gently massaging Dagen's hole before slipping a finger inside. He had to lean his forehead against Dagen's back, panting as that tight heat enveloped him, and wondered how he'd ever survive putting his dick in there.

  One finger fucking in and out quickly became two, and as Ollie worked him open, Dagen writhed against him, panting and cursing. The skin beneath his other hand was damp with sweat and Ollie could feel his own gathering along his scalp and the small of his back. He was afraid this was going to be over so fast.

  "Dammit, Ollie. I'm ready!" Dagen said for what could have been the hundredth time, and Ollie leaned forward to kiss the shifting muscle to the right of his spine. He gently pulled his fingers from the grip of Dagen's body, and before any more protests could be voiced, pressed the head of his dick against Dagen's entrance.

  Ollie knew that if Dagen really wanted to, he could press back and rush this, but Ollie gripped his hips anyway, and Dagen stilled. His knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the counter and a tremor went through the whole of him.

  "Dagen?" Ollie asked, needing to hear him say it just one more time.

  The voice that had been lust drunk and nearly begging was quieter now. Gentle, but no less certain.

  "I want this."

  Ollie pressed forward.

  It had been a long time, years, since he'd had something other than his own fingers or a dildo inside him. Neither of which compared to the man pulling him to pieces stroke after perfect stroke. Dagen couldn't feel his hands gripping the counter or the bruising grip Ollie had on his hips or even his feet planted wide on the floor. His entire world was reduced to the sure glide of Ollie's length inside him. Connecting them.

  He'd relished the idea of being taken this way, from behind, without being able to see the man drilling into him. Something about it had felt thrilling, and it still was, but he felt so much more than that. Because it wasn't just some man. It was Ollie. With his busted knuckles and bruised ribs and neutral mask he showed the world. Dagen wanted to look in his eyes and see that whatever had driven him halfway across the country wasn't what was driving him now. That he was just as affected as Dagen.

  The furious rhythm of Ollie's strokes started to falter, and his breathing turned almost harsh. Dagen was so close he could barely think and lifted a hand to reach for himself, but Ollie beat him to it, releasing one of his hips to encircle Dagen's cock once again in a tight grip. He wasted no time, quickly matching the pumping of his hand to that of his hips.

  Breath seized in Dagen's chest as the swell of pleasure rose and broke over him, and he spilled over Ollie's fist with a gasp. Behind him Ollie grunted, fucking him through his orgasm and climaxing himself before he collapsed against Dagen's back. They stilled for a moment before Dagen was turning with a wince as Ollie's cock slipped out of him, and gripping Ollie by the back of his thighs and lifting.

  Ollie yelped, eyes wide, but wrapped his arms and legs around Dagen. Dagen spun, setting Ollie bare-assed on the island counter and sealing their mouths together. Ollie tilted his head, giving them both a better angle and opened his mouth, welcoming Dagen in.

  The swipe of their tongues together sent a jolt straight to Dagen's groin, and if it were possible he knew he'd be hard again already. The kiss deepened and then slowed, all the while Dagen ran his hands over every part of Ollie. From his shoulders down to his ass and thighs, and gently back up over his sides, across his chest until he had Ollie's face cupped in his hands.

  "You're beautiful." He whispered against Ollie's lips, giving Ollie's words back to him. They were nothing less than true.

  The corners of Ollie's mouth lifted, and he brushed his lips over Dagen's again.

  "That was amazing."

  Dagen smiled back at him. "Fuck yes, it was." He felt the still damp length of Ollie's dick against his stomach and pulled back just enough to reach between them and remove the condom. Ollie sucked in a breath at the contact, and Dagen grinned. Picking up the lube and condoms from the counter with his free hand, he handed them to Ollie, then said, "Hold on."

  Ollie strengthened the grip of his arms and legs. Dagen slid his empty hand under Ollie's ass and lifted, turning toward the hallway.

  "You know," Ollie said, "Normally, I think I'd complain about this, but it's kind of fucking hot."

  Dagen chuckled, paused by the trash can and tossed the condom before using both hands to grip Ollie's ass all the way to his bedroom leaving the cupcakes sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, forgotten.

  Chapter Ten

  Rory was dead weight against Dagen's back. No matter how he moved or shifted, he couldn't seem to buck the other man off. He was like a damn Scottish barnacle. With a grunt, Dagen tore his arm out of the lock Rory had trapped it in and planted his hand on the mat beneath him before pushing up and back with all his strength.

  They flipped. Rory's back hit the mat with a whoosh of air even as Dagen landed hard on his chest and dug in his heels, hips thrusting into the air, and digging in with his shoulders on Rory's torso to keep him pinned. Because winded or not, Rory was a scrappy fucker and could slither out of a pin like he was coated in lube. The soreness from the week’s lifting and other activities had Dagen smiling as Rory scrambled to escape. Of course, sore muscles weren't the only reason Dagen was smiling. He'd left Ollie sleeping in his bed this morning, just like every morning for the past week, with a note on the nightstand and breakfast waiting in the kitchen. Almost a full week since he and Ollie had had sex for the first time and he still couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. It had been a busy day, Saturday usually being the busiest of the week for the gym and tattoo shop, so he hadn't seen much of Ollie today other than a quick kiss when he brought him some lunch at noon.

  "Get off me, you great oaf!" Rory wheezed with a tap on Dagen's shoulders.

  Dagen laughed, then with one last press, eliciting a groan from his friend, he hopped to his feet in the middle of the octagonal cage and offered Rory a hand.

  "No, no," Rory said, waving his hand weakly before clasping Dagen's forearm. "Just leave me here to die."

  "No can do, brother. You've gotta take a shot."

  "Why do I bother with you, eh? How long we been doin' this? And I've pinned you what? Once? Twice?"

  Dagen gave him a friendly shove toward the cage door. "Shut up. You pin me at least twice a week."

  "Oh. Right." Rory's cocky grin mocked him, and he lunged forward only for the ginger man to dive through the now open door and hop down onto the gym floor. Sneaky bastard.

  "I'm next, boys." Kayla's voice rang out from the direction of the wall that divided the gym and the tattoo shop. "Who's it gonna be?" Kayla was basically the sister they'd never had, and she loved to kick their collective asses.

  Dagen looked over to see Kayla twisting her mane of raven hair back into a braid. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top, black today, that showed off defined arms and shoulders and some truly impressive ink, but it was the man trailing behind her that had him stumbling on the edge of the cage's platform, barely catching himself from falling flat on his face.

  "You sure Rory didn't win that one, brother?" Vidar's voice was low—concern or a warning, Dagen wasn't sure or sure he cared as his eyes tracked right back to Ollie like metal to a magnet.

  He looked good with dark jeans covering his long legs, black boots on his feet, and a white t-shirt that looked like it came out of a pack clinging to his lean torso. The mop of dark hair on his head was a mess, and Dagen had a flash of how it had looked spread across his pillow when they'd fucked last night.

  He watched Ollie's dark eyes scan over all of them gathered around the cage, from where Vidar and Harbor were leaning up against the platform, much like they did when they were cornering for one of the gym's fighters, Rory pouring that shot he owed on
the bench beside them, and finally he lifted those eyes to Dagen's and paused. Dagen's heart seized in his chest until Ollie's lips curled up on the edges.

  Hopping off the platform, Dagen stepped toward where Ollie had stopped just shy of the mat surrounding the cage.

  "Hey."

  Ollie's dark eyes sparkled. "Hey." He knew he was grinning like a fool, but there wasn't a force on earth that could have stopped him. He wanted to close the distance between them, kiss that gorgeous mouth, but held himself back. While they’d spent every night of the past week together they hadn't talked at all about what it all meant, and Dagen was notorious for getting ahead of himself. So, he turned to stand beside Ollie and watch the others decide who was next in the cage.

  "Paper, rock, scissors you for it," Dagen heard Harbor say to Vidar.

  They both looked over to where his brothers were dueling it out to see who would step into the cage with Kayla, but Dagen couldn't help his eyes sliding back to Ollie. To his surprise, he found the other man looking back at him.

  "The honor is all yours, brother." Vidar's voice broke their stare and Dagen looked over to see Harbor hang his head before sweeping a laughing Kayla into a fireman's carry and hauling her into the cage.

  "So." Ollie was watching wide-eyed as Harbor and Kayla squared off, then grasped each other's heads and shoulders in a clench. "What's going on here?"

  Rory chose that moment to saunter over, shot glass in hand. "It's old school wrestling rules, with a twist. You get pinned, you take a shot." He upended the glass, swallowing the clear liquid—vodka, tonight—in one go. "This right bastard," he shoved at Dagen. "got one over on me tonight."

  "I'm pretty sure I owed you." Dagen said, watching Ollie watch the cage.

  Rory scoffed. "There's no use keeping score, mate." He slung a loose arm around Ollie's shoulders and Dagen jolted with how much he didn't like it. Which was ridiculous, everyone in this room, save Ollie maybe, knew where Rory's heart resided. "What do you say, Ollie? Want to have a go?"

  Ollie gave a little chuckle and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'm good right here."

  Rory shrugged. "Suit yourself." He dropped the arm from Ollie's shoulder as a shout went up in the cage. Kayla was standing with her arms lifted in victory over Harbor flat on his back in the middle of the cage.

  "Holy shit." Ollie laughed. "Remind me not to piss her off."

  "If you just now figured out that you shouldn't piss Kayla off, you haven't been paying attention." Dagen grinned and nearly wrapped his arm where Rory's had been before reeling himself back in. "You want a drink?"

  "Um, maybe something other than alcohol." Ollie had decided he was swearing off alcohol until the memory of last weekend’s epic hangover stopped haunting him.

  "Come on. There's some water and stuff in the fridge in the back." Dagen touched Ollie's arm, indicating for Ollie to follow him to the small back room situated between the two locker rooms off to one side of the gym.

  "You're fooling no one, you two!" Rory's voice called out behind them. Dagen lifted his hand with his middle finger extended and a roar of laughter went up before Rory was calling for another round of shots. Obviously, his epic hangover hadn’t slowed him down at all.

  He opened the door to the back room, which was little more than a large storage closet with a refrigerator and cleaning supplies, and stepped aside to let Ollie through. "Don't pay any attention to him. Even just a drop of alcohol ignites the crazy, and he just can't help himself."

  Ollie's cheeks were a rosy shade of pink, but he nodded, then pushed the door shut and leaned up to press his lips to Dagen's. "Should I still ignore him even when he's right?" he asked, pulling back with a smirk.

  "Oh, thank god." Dagen breathed, charging forward to claim Ollie's lips and press him back against the closed door.

  Ollie opened his mouth and greedily sucked on Dagen's tongue as soon as he thrust it inside. He swallowed Dagen's moan and chased his lips when the big man retreated enough to look him in the eye.

  "We probably shouldn't go too far in here. Rory will be beating on the door if we're gone more than five minutes."

  Grinning, Ollie kissed him again, but didn't push further. He couldn't believe how good this felt. Couldn't believe he was letting himself feel it to begin with. The protests in his head met a deaf ear, just as they had every night that week, as he met Dagen's eyes. Ollie had been blind before. Blind to lies and manipulation, to things he'd never even considered. He knew he needed to be careful, and still he found himself struggling to put up any kind of resistance. He barely knew Dagen but knew it would be too easy to fall for him. He liked that Dagen had given him some space over the last few days even with the morning notes and meals he'd left for Ollie. The shop had been hopping all week, and it had been good to work, to have his mind occupied solely on his art, even if he found himself smiling in the quiet moments of the day as he remembered the events of the night before. They’d been keeping it light and keeping touches and kisses behind closed doors. Looking at Dagen now, a thought occurred to him. "Are you out with everyone?"

  Dagen kissed him again. "With my family, yes. With everyone else?" He shrugged. "I don't hide, but I'm not skywriting it either. I haven't really had reason to and I've been so focused on recovery and training that everything else just went on the back burner."

  "And your family doesn't care?"

  "Not at all."

  Ollie couldn't help the little jolt of envy that went through him, but he smiled. "That's great."

  Leaning in close again, Dagen laid kisses from his lips, across his cheek, and back to his ear. "Will you tell me about it someday?"

  Ollie turned his head until he could meet Dagen's eyes. He didn't know what to do with the openness he saw there. Looking down, he fiddled with the edge of Dagen's tank top. "There's not much to tell. The kids at school figured it out before I did. Normal name-calling and bullying stuff. It got back to my parents. I didn't deny it when my mom asked me. Time went on and I thought everything was fine." Ollie swallowed.

  Dagen’s hands slid under the back of his shirt, not seeking or pushing, just holding and warming Ollie through with the solid strength of them.

  "On my eighteenth birthday, my dad met me at the door after school." The familiar numbness started to spread from Ollie's chest into his limbs. "He handed me a bag filled with some of my things and a couple hundred bucks. Told me he'd done his duty and now I was on my own. He said, 'Don't ever come back here, faggot,' then closed the door in my face."

  Dagen was speechless. He couldn't imagine being turned away from the only home he'd ever known. Couldn't imagine his mother saying or doing something so awful. Tears stung the backs of his eyes even as Ollie wouldn't meet them. Gently, he pulled Ollie against him. He was pliant, complacent, which Dagen found he didn't like at all, but as he tucked Ollie under his chin and wrapped him up, it was only moments before Ollie's hands gripped the back of his shirt.

  A shuddery breath swept across his collarbone before Ollie continued. "I must have stood there for five minutes before I realized it was really happening. I mean, I know I shouldn't complain...it was five-star treatment compared to what so many kids go through, but—"

  "Don't you ever think that. Other people's experiences don't invalidate your own."

  Ollie nodded against him. "I haven't seen him or my mom since."

  "I'm sorry that happened to you." Dagen pressed a kiss against Ollie's head. Ollie squeezed him around the middle before he pulled back.

  "I bet this isn't what Rory thought we were going to be doing in here."

  "Definitely not and he wouldn't believe us even if we told him."

  Ollie smiled. It was small, but it warmed Dagen to see it all the same. "I can't believe I haven't even been here a month. It feels like it's been so much longer."

  "I know what you mean." Dagen leaned forward to kiss him again, and just as Ollie pressed his tongue to Dagen's, a hard thump on the door caused them both to jump.

  Dagen shift
ed, not letting go of Ollie, and opened the door, ready to tell Rory to fuck off. Except it wasn't Rory. Harbor's ice-blue eyes glanced at Dagen before settling on Ollie.

  "There's someone here saying he needs to see you."

  Chapter Eleven

  Ollie had never seen the kid before. He wasn't actually a kid, but Ollie would be impressed if he'd hit twenty-one. He was short, probably no taller than 5'5" and compactly muscled with dark roots showing under faded teal hair and olive skin. There were backpack straps on his shoulders and holes in his jeans. One of the arms he had crossed over his chest was covered in bright green vine tattoos dotted with elaborately detailed and vibrantly colored flower blossoms, but the thing that kept drawing Ollie's eyes were the bruises darkening the skin around the kid's right eye and down over his cheekbone. The white of that eye was blood red from busted capillaries and the dark iris was trained on Vidar.

  The eldest Rourke seemed to be locked in a stand-off with the kid in the aisle beside the cage. Kayla and Rory were standing quietly off to the side, and as Ollie approached from behind Vidar with Harbor and Dagen flanking him, he saw the kid's dark eyes move to him. Vidar glanced back at him before stepping off to the side but staying close.

  "Are you Ollie V?"

  "Yes. Who are you?"

  The kid pulled the backpack from his back and started to reach inside. Vidar moved so fast, Ollie barely registered it before he had a hand clamped over the kid's colorful forearm. Harbor and Dagen both took a step forward, Dagen sticking close to Ollie's side.

  "What the fuck!" The kid protested and tried to pull his arm out of Vidar's grip.

  “What’s in the bag?” Vidar’s voice was low enough that Ollie could barely hear it. Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as a power struggle passed between the two men. A dark look crossed the newcomer’s face a moment before he opened the bag enough that Vidar could see inside. Vidar looked down before leaning forward and saying something Ollie couldn’t hear. Another look passed between the two and Vidar released his arm, stepping back to the side.