Reconsider Me [Suncoast Society] - (Siren Publishing Sensations ManLove)

by Tymber Dalton

  Saying good-bye to yet another dream he never should have considered having in the first place.

  Yet here stupid him was, sticking to his guns and sabotaging otherwise perfection—again.

  Maybe I should just give in. Maybe I’m being stupid. I could grit my teeth and bear it.

  But…

  As someone had once told him, didn’t he owe it to himself to stay true to himself when it was something so…deep?

  No pun intended.

  Tom hadn’t sent him any texts yesterday, either.

  Fen knew they were well and truly done.

  He couldn’t blame the guy…mostly. Fen would probably be done with him, too.

  This was another part of the familiar pattern—doubting himself. It would take a little while to re-establish his self-esteem and remember that no, he didn’t owe anyone an explanation. If this had been a young female submissive with an older male Top, the guy would be called a predator for trying to get her to do something she’d already clearly said was a hard limit.

  Fen wouldn’t hold himself to a different standard just because he had a penis instead of a vag.

  As he finally rolled out of bed, he realized he couldn’t bear the thought of eating anything, despite the fact that all he’d had yesterday were two pieces of toast at breakfast. So he brewed himself a mug of mint tea before climbing into the shower to try to wake up. He hoped the mint tea would settle his stomach and allow him to at least eat something.

  Anything.

  It didn’t worry him, because this, too, was familiar. He’d go through days of hating himself, wondering why he didn’t simply give in despite his past and his feelings on the matter, calling himself a dumbass, before finally letting it pass and giving himself permission to move on.

  And permission to hang on to his hard limit.

  To stay true to himself and what he knew he needed.

  To allow himself this bit of self-care, when he’d experienced plenty of times in his life where he’d ignored himself and suffered as a result.

  He was only twenty-six. It wasn’t like he was in danger of spending the rest of his life alone. Maybe if another ten years down the road he was still doing this same dance with guys, sure, then he’d take a harder look in the mirror.

  But bad things happened the times he’d given in and tried to “get along.”

  It wasn’t worth doing that to himself again.

  I need to hit the yoga studio. He had a membership, which meant he could take any of the classes as a drop-in. He tried to do a little every day at home but didn’t always manage it.

  The past couple of days, especially.

  He didn’t have time this morning, either, but he did some stretching to help work a few kinks out of his body, and that helped soothe his soul a little.

  By the time he’d reached work, he’d eaten a small bowl of Cheerios with almond milk and the worst of the puffiness and redness had disappeared from around his eyes. He didn’t meet Jake’s inquiring gaze as he passed the man’s cube on the way to his own desk, either.

  At least that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. McMannis Manufacturing didn’t give a crap if someone was gay or straight or whatever. As long as they showed up when they were supposed to and did quality work on time or beating expectations, that’s all that mattered. Jake and Ben were married and had been working together for a few years before that.

  Work was now Fen’s refuge—another familiar pattern.

  Maybe I should get a cat.

  If nothing else, maybe he’d drop by Venture Saturday night and see if he could pick up play for the evening. A well-beaten ass helped alleviate a lot of stress and shut down his brain. Short-term, but still, he’d take it.

  At least he knew he wouldn’t run into Tom there. Tom wasn’t fond of Venture, because he couldn’t play the way he wanted to there, with full-on sex as part of the deal. He’d had to get a membership to play there the first couple of times with Fen before Fen would play alone with him.

  At the time, the fact that Tom had done that had been a plus in his favor. That he’d been willing to take things kind of slow for Fen. Tom hadn’t rung any bells in terms of warning signs for predators.

  It’d allowed Fen to drop his guard in other ways, which led him to…here.

  I’m such a fucking idiot.

  To be fair, this was the only way in which Tom had been lacking, even though Tom had been forty-one. Kind of was a turn-on for Fen, frankly, that the hunky older guy wanted him. If Fen hadn’t been up front with the guy, had not engaged in multiple conversations with him about his hard limit, maybe he’d cut the guy some slack.

  Except Tom’s words echoed in his head. If it wasn’t for the fact that he really wanted and needed a Dominant for a relationship, he might have no trouble finding a guy. He’d met other guys who were sides, when he specifically went looking for other guys who felt the same way he did for whatever reason they had. But they usually weren’t Tops or Doms.

  And he’d even tried dating a couple of them.

  Not only had there not been much sexual chemistry for Fen without the guy taking charge—the few he’d let get far enough to sleep with him—but there hadn’t been much in relationship chemistry, either. Not enough to sustain something healthy long-term.

  At the end of the day, three quarters of the office staff had already left when Fen got up and stopped by Jake’s cube. He waited in the doorway until Jake looked up from his computer, where he’d been working on a project. “Yeah?”

  Fen kept his voice low. “You guys going to…the club Saturday?”

  Jake’s brow furrowed. “You all right?”

  Fen had sworn he wouldn’t start crying.

  Would.

  Not.

  But that’s exactly what he did, tears rolling down his face even as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

  Jake stood and quickly ushered him into a nearby conference room, closing the door behind them. There weren’t any windows in there, so no one could see how he stood there, trying to sob quietly on Jake’s shoulder.

  Jake held him, a friend, nothing more, trying to comfort him.

  A moment later, a soft knock. “Jake?”

  Ben.

  “Come in,” Jake said.

  Ben did, concern immediately filling his features when he spotted Fen’s tears. He stepped in, standing behind Fen and holding him, too.

  “Why guys gotta be assholes,” Fen whispered as he cried. “Why can’t they just do what they said?”

  “Sorry, buddy. You going to be okay to drive home?”

  “Yeah. I just need to get this out of my system.”

  “Feel like talking about it?”

  “There’s not a lot to talk about.” Fen sniffled. “I was open and honest about a hard limit from the start, guy said okay. Three months later, now he’s trying to make me give up that hard limit. Not the first time, but this was the last time and final straw.”

  “Let us talk to the Frightful Five for you,” Ben offered. “They have a damn good track record.”

  “I’d settle for a good ass-beating Saturday night,” Fen said, sniffling again. “And maybe I should adopt a cat.”

  “We’ll meet you there,” Jake offered. “Sorry I won’t play with you, but you know I don’t play with anyone but Ben now.”

  “I know. I just want…wingmen.”

  “Absolutely,” Jake said. “We can be that for you.”

  After a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and blow his nose, Fen headed home for the day. Getting drunk was looking like a good possibility—and wouldn’t take more than one drink to achieve—but instead he headed to the mall.

  Time for a little retail therapy.

  He wasn’t exactly a snob when it came to most things, but he was absolutely a snob when it came to certain things. Like his body wash, shampoo, conditioner—he liked what he liked. He’d come to grips with the fact in high school that he was gay, and he was definitely not butch, and he was totally
okay with that. If some people wanted to say that, paired with his slim build and his sensitive personality, made him some stereotypical gay guy? Sure, he’d own that, with a snap and a head toss thrown in while he read you.

  Weren’t many guys who could take the level of beating he enjoyed, either. He’d seen plenty of butchier pups pale when watching him stick his butt out and wiggle for more cane strokes when they would have been safewording long before he did.

  He could be a pain slut and still drop a bit of change at Sephora. The two were not mutually exclusive things. Hell, he loved having baby soft skin and smelling nice. He’d yet had a Top or boyfriend complain about that, at least.

  His favorite clerk, Toni, was in this afternoon.

  Bonus.

  She smiled when he aimed straight for her. “Whatcha got for puffy eyes, baby?” He took off his glasses and leaned in to give her a better look.

  She winced. “Ooh, do I need to go hit someone for you, honey? I’ll do it, too. Just gimme an address.”

  “Nah, he’s not worth it.”

  “Come on.” She patted his shoulder. “I’ll fix you up. Follow me.”

  She not only got him that, but showed him the newest body scrub they’d just received, reminded him he was almost out of his favorite facial mask when she asked how long since he’d purchased any, and he ended up adding a bottle of bubble bath to his basket because, dammit, he was worth it.

  And it smelled like margaritas.

  He felt marginally better about himself by the time he walked out of there, his wallet lighter and the shopping bag bulging. He was overdue for a haircut, too, and sent his stylist a text to find out when her next opening was.

  He was almost to his car when she shocked him with a reply.

  Just had a cancellation for last color of the day. I was going home but I can take you asap.

  At least no one was around to hear him squee.

  He replied he’d be there in ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, he was happily sighing as she had him lying back in a chair, massaging his scalp as she shampooed him.

  “I was going to send you a reminder text this week. I hadn’t seen any future appointments on the calendar.”

  “Don’t let me leave here today without booking the next four appointments, babe.”

  “You feeling okay? You look a little…wrung out tonight.”

  “Yeah. Lost about two hundred and twenty-five hunky damn pounds on Tuesday.”

  “Oooh, ouch. Sorry.”

  “Yeah, it’s just one of those things.”

  She wrapped a towel around his head and sat him up to get him back into her chair. “This guy lasted, what, three months?”

  “About.” Fen forced a smile. “Longest one for a while.”

  She met his gaze in the mirror. “Same as always?” She ran her fingers through his short brown locks.

  “Yeah. Not feeling like getting too crazy.” He forced another smile. “I just bought a new body scrub. That’s as wild as I want to get for a while.”

  He managed to keep up a fairly energetic conversation with her despite his mood. By the time he left—tipping her well, because she always earned it with him, as picky as he was—he had his next four appointments in the book and had managed to go nearly thirty minutes without wondering if maybe he was just a failure instead of Tom being an asshole.

  He lived in one side of a duplex, owned by a snowbird who was rarely ever there, a guy who lived up north who was also his landlord and handled the rental duties through a local real estate office. A two-two apartment, no washer and dryer the only sucky thing about it. He could take his laundry to his parents’ house to wash. Since he usually ate dinner with them at least one night a week, that meant he had no trouble keeping up with it.

  It was an odd apartment, though. Kind of a funky vibe to it that he’d quickly gotten used to after he’d moved in less than six months earlier. Sort of comforting, like even when he was alone, it was almost as if he wasn’t alone. But not in a he-needed-to–call-in-Sam-and-Dean Winchester kind of way.

  Sometimes he noticed things were out of place, or he’d misplaced something. Then he’d simply throw his head back, apologize to the air for whatever he’d done to piss the place off, ask for the item back, and within an hour or two, he always found it. Sometimes where he thought it was supposed to be, even though he knew he’d searched there, and sometimes not.

  Maybe he was crazy. He’d own it. Maybe he was just forgetful, but it was kind of neat thinking maybe he had a ghost. Yet since the rent was ridiculously cheap, and the neighborhood was good—quiet, but good—he loved it.

  He used the second bedroom as a library and storage, meaning he could keep the small living and dining room area clutter-free and tidy. After taking his new purchases into the master bath and putting them away, he changed into a pair of shorts and made himself a salad for dinner. He still wasn’t feeling hungry. Another physical manifestation of his mood.

  But at least if his mom texted him and asked him how he was doing and if he’d eaten today, he wouldn’t have to lie to her.

  He hated doing that.

  Finally, he made himself a mug of chamomile tea with honey and settled in for a hot bubble bath with his new margarita-scented suds.

  Heavenly.

  As he sipped his tea, he pondered being single, yet again. Maybe this was for the best. If he was brutally honest with himself, there were lots of little things he’d overlooked about Tom because they’d been inconsequential. The way Tom would “joke” about the products Fen used, while he himself used some dime-store three-in-one crap that smelled like a chemical soup to Fen’s nose.

  The way he’d roll his eyes when Fen wanted to linger over something in a store instead of simply getting it and getting out.

  The way Tom would shake his head at how Fen always cried over the scene in Yuri!!! On Ice when Victor tackled Yuri in a kiss after Yuri’s performance.

  The way…

  He closed his eyes.

  Fuck.

  The guy was hot and hunky and definitely hung. Fen had loved sucking down that cock and jacking him off with two goddamned hands, but no way in hell, even if he hadn’t had issues with anal, was that fricking fire hose going up his ass.

  Period.

  How many times had he gobbled Tom’s cock in a parked car outside a restaurant or movie theater? Couldn’t do that fucking, that was for sure. Not like he ever turned the guy down, either, when it came to making love or just getting him off.

  That was not even counting how Fen was basically a wet-dream list for the guy’s sadistic side, up for pretty much anything he wanted to put Fen through on a bench or in ropes.

  Why wasn’t what I offered him enough?

  Or would he ever find a guy he’d be enough for, as-is?

  Chapter Four

  Friday afternoon, Joel and one of his guys were deep in the bilge on the double engine overhaul, trying to get the damn mounting bracket bolts broke loose on the second engine. They were so old and corroded from years of exposure to salt water that they didn’t want to budge. They’d spent five hours fighting the first one yesterday before they’d gotten it free and pulled out of the hold.

  It was hot, smelly, tight quarters, and generally miserable. At least the cruiser was safe on dry land, sitting in a cradle while they did the overhaul, so he didn’t have to add wet to the hellish descriptors. The bilge had been drained completely dry already.

  He heard someone climb up the ladder braced against the back of the boat. “Anybody home?”

  Keith.

  “We’re down here.”

  He sat back as Keith climbed aboard and then leaned in, looking down the hatch. “That looks like the third circle of Hell.”

  “Just about. What’s up?”

  Joel didn’t miss how Keith glanced at Barney sitting next to him. “Nothing much. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Pick up our conversation where we left off the other night.” He arched an eyebrow at Joel.

  Well,
that likely meant Keith had news for him.

  “You know what, Barn? Let’s take a quick break,” Joel told him. “Back in fifteen or twenty.”

  He wiped his sweaty brow on his shirt. “Sounds good to me. I’ll hunt up a fan while we’re at it.”

  “Excellent.”

  Once they heard Barney was safely down the ladder, Joel dropped his voice. “That was fast.”

  Keith grinned. “The Frightful Five are good. What are you doing Saturday night?”

  “Hadn’t made any plans. Why, should I?”

  “You have plans now. You’re going to meet us at Venture at eight. Bring your toybag. If nothing else, we just lined you up a potential play partner. Maybe more.”

  “Can’t tell me more?”

  “According to June, he’s cute. Twenty-six, gainfully employed. I think I’ve seen him before, if it’s the same guy I’m thinking of, and yeah, he’s adorable.”

  “Eight, huh?”

  “Yep. Bring a driver’s license for the sign-up process. Won’t take but a few minutes.”

  “They protect privacy?”

  “Of course they do. This isn’t the bullshit you went through in Mobile. We don’t tolerate that kind of shit around here.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent.” Keith grinned. “Apparently he’s a pretty heavy maso. Prepare to work up a sweat.”

  “I can only hope.”

  It’d been a long damn time since he’d actually played with anyone. Months, at least. A guy he’d met up in St. Pete at the Toucan resort one leather weekend. It’d been even longer since he’d slept with anyone.

  He did not randomly hook up with guys. He had to date them for a while first.

  Especially not after what he went through with Johnny. He learned a hard lesson—never stick your dick in crazy. And never let crazy stick its dick in you, either.

  * * * *

  Fen headed to his parents’ house straight from work. His mom walked out while he was digging the laundry basket out of the trunk.

  She wore a playful smile. “Sometimes I think you only come visit me for laundry.”