St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “And you?”

  “I am living the dream. I work from home mostly, but I travel up to Santa Cruz a couple times a week. Things are looking up.”

  “Who takes care of Fireball when you go?”

  “There’s a high-school kid who lives about a mile up the road. She comes over to do chores if I need her to. She loves the little guy, and it gets her some cash for school later.”

  “That’s good.”

  “But she’ll be graduating next year so I was thinking about looking for a part-time ranch hand.” Oh, fuck, if I blew this now—if he turned me down flat—I would never recover. “Now that I’ve got a spread and all.

  “Just part-time?”

  “To start, maybe.” I took a sip of my beer. “Of course, I’ve been reading about ranching. I was thinking about getting another miniature or two. Maybe some chickens. Even a cow.”

  “You?” His brows drew together. “A cow?”

  “But I’d need a qualified helper if I did that.”

  “You would indeed.” Cam’s eyes met mine. “City boy.”

  “Not so city I can’t muck out stalls or take care of my herd.” Okay Fireball wasn’t much of a herd, but I’d taken care of him just fine.

  “You wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a cow.”

  “Maybe not. But I’ve got time. I can learn. Or I could start with something smaller, like a goat.”

  Cam made a face. “Goats can be filthy, evil-tempered animals.”

  Wow. Note to self: ask Cam about his bad goat experience. “Or a sheep or two. I know. I could get myself a llama.”

  “A llama?” Cam sputtered. “You don’t have the faintest idea of what you’re getting into. You can’t just buy farm animals willy-nilly and hope you have the right kind of environment and resources and—”

  “It’s pretty clear someone with some ranching experience is going to have to straighten me out, huh?”

  The spark missing from Cam’s blue eyes when he’d first arrived appeared like magic. “Are we talking hobby or business, ’cause let me tell you right now, you are not going to make this a viable business.”

  “I intend for this to be my home. I want to share it with some animals. And…uh…a partner. I still have my original business to run.”

  Thank you, Bree. Thank you, thank you.

  Cam went very still. “You’re going to have to say the words, Daniel.”

  I was ready.

  In fact, as soon as I started, everything I’d been thinking came spilling out like so much word puke. “I love you, Cam. I’ve loved you for a long time. Please don’t think of this place—what I hope will be our place—as yet another way I’m throwing money around to solve a problem. It’s not in St. Nacho’s, but you live at the firehouse half the time anyway, and you could even keep your place there if you want. I’d take whatever you can give me.

  “You have to see this place like I do—as something we can build together. It’s the perfect setting for everything I want us to become. Can you believe me when I say that? Can you see us together here? Can you forgive me and make a place for me in that great big heart of yours, so I can finally, finally slow down and maybe even get some rest? Because I really, really don’t want to be without you one more single stinking—”

  “Daniel.” Cam stopped my mouth in the very best way possible. He pressed his lips to mine in a searing kiss that was both tender and ruthless, claiming and yielding. I barely breathed as I opened my mouth to let his tongue slide inside, and with that he swept the rest of my second thoughts, my doubts, and my fears away. He broke the kiss after what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few brief seconds and exhaled a shuddering sigh.

  “I love you too.” Cam stood and held out his hand.

  I looked at it for a long time before I took it. When I did, I knew I’d never have to let it go again. I was going to put a damned ring on it and hold on to it forever.

  He pulled me to him and I guess I surprised him by jumping up and wrapping both my arms and legs around him. He let out a shocked oof. He was more than strong enough to hold my weight, but the surprise of it rocked him back on his heels a little.

  “Come on.” He lurched awkwardly toward the front door and opened the screen to let us in. “You’ll have to tell me which way.”

  “Turn right,” I told him, directing him toward the master bedroom “At the end, last door on the right.”

  “You’ve lost weight,” he remarked.

  I had my face pressed into the side of his neck where I could breathe in the scent of his skin—sweat and man and a faint trace of fire. Essence of Cam. “You too.”

  “I’ve been working for nearly four weeks solid. I’m tapped out.” He opened the door to my bedroom, and I held my breath while he glanced around. “This is nice.”

  “Thank you.” There wasn’t much to it yet, just an old iron bed and a dresser. A wonderful, colorful quilt that Ellie made for me. The mattress was new and the sheets crisp, and when he dropped me on it and crawled in beside me, he heaved a huge, tired sigh.

  “I should probably take a shower.”

  I toyed with the hem of his T-shirt. “You could just get rid of these clothes and sleep for a while. Take your shower later.”

  “Would you stay?” Those blue eyes studied me.

  “Of course. If that’s what you want. I could use a nap.” I pulled his T-shirt up and when his head popped out, he shot me a weary smile.

  “I’m not going to be good for much else,” he warned.

  “That’s all right. Rest now.”

  We shucked our clothes, and before I could even get up to close the shutters to darken the room, he drifted off. When I got back into bed with him he settled, inching toward my body heat in the implacable way of sleeping men.

  I wrapped my arms around him and let his legs tangle with mine until he seemed comfortable.

  “Got you,” I whispered against the fuzz of his hair. “Rest now. I’ve got you.”

  I held him close and felt his heartbeat against mine. I touched his skin and counted his freckles, listened to each breath like it was music.

  My abominable fireman.

  For the first time in months, I had hope. I had plans. I had the man I loved beside me. He’d come to me when he was exhausted and fallen asleep in my arms and everything was going to be okay.

  That was as good a start as any.

  Better than most.

  Epilogue

  Jake’s wedding didn’t take place until November.

  It dawned cold and gray, blanketed by the usual fog off the ocean. Cam was working the last hour of back-to-back twenty-fours so I woke up alone and took my coffee on the porch to wait for him.

  Soon enough, I heard the sound of my Ducati purring up the drive.

  Cam parked right out front and took off his helmet.

  “Hi.” I stood. “Let me get you some coffee.”

  He stopped me before I could head into the house, arms banding tight around me from behind. The chill of his leather jacket gave me goose bumps. “Hey. I don’t need coffee as much as I need a hug.”

  “Bad call?”

  “No.” He grinned down at me and maneuvered me against the wall. I felt his cock, hard and insistent against my thigh. “I just missed you.”

  We kissed our way through the door and down the hall, discarding our clothes along the way. His skin was fresh from a shower, and he was wearing a citrusy, green-smelling cologne. “You cleaned up.”

  “Well, it’s your brother’s big day.”

  “Not for hours yet. I plan to get you good and dirty before then.”

  “I’m game.” He pushed me onto my back on the sheets, rolling over me and pulling me with him until I wound up on top. “Whatcha got?”

  I dragged my little bag of tricks out from under his pillow and dumped its contents: lube, latex gloves, condoms, and dams. “Whatcha want.”

  “Surprise me.” He grinned up at me like a ravished angel, golden blond and fuckab
le in the extreme.

  “Roll over,” I told him, and he complied. His skin was beautiful and firm, white where his ass never saw the sun. I nipped at his shoulder and opened the drawer by the bed. Our most recent—and best—discovery had been how much Cam enjoyed being tied to that big iron bed. I kept a drawer full of colorful scarves now for playing and tying and blindfolding him.

  I couldn’t imagine why I didn’t see it right away. I looped the silken fabric snugly around one wrist and secured it to the post, then went around the bed to bind the other, letting the light, smooth fabric slither and slide over that massive, muscled back. I understood the impulse to bind and the beauty of shibari or kinbaku-bi—Japanese rope bondage—and I knew it would have a deeply sensual appeal for Cam as well.

  Learning rope bondage was number one on my to-do list, right before building a chicken coop and exploring alpacas. Just another forward step into a future I’d never imagined I could have.

  “Too tight?” I didn’t want to cut off his circulation; this was for fun, after all. My own right hand was more dexterous than ever since the accident, thanks to Jordan, but it would never be like it was. Still, it stood to reason some intricate knot tying might be an excellent auxiliary therapy. I knew not to tie anything so tight I couldn’t get it undone. I’d learned that the hard way, and even though Cam had shivered and gotten hard when I used a knife to cut him free, I couldn’t go that far in play.

  “You can pull a little tighter on my legs,” Cam said helpfully.

  “I have other plans for your legs today.” I tapped his ass. “Knees up under. Like the child’s rest pose in yoga.”

  “Oh.” He did as I asked, and I tied two scarves together, hooked them around his knee, and pulled until I could tie the ends next to his hands on the headboard. “Whoa. What?”

  “That hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, let’s see if I can do that on the other side. You’ll tell me if it hurts though, right?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, and already his cock was hard and leaking on the sheets. After I did the same with his other leg, I rubbed his balls from behind. Ah, fuck. He was all mine. Spread and helpless, and ready to beg for my tongue in his ass. “See? I’ve seen you do this in yoga class.”

  “Not trussed, you haven’t. I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe.” He turned his head.

  “What if I put a pillow under your chest, like this.”

  “Oof.” He grunted, then grinned when what I did stretched his arms. “Oh. This has possibilities.”

  “You think you could get loose?”

  “Uh…no.” He shifted experimentally and probably discovered that the tip of his cock rubbed on the sheets just so. “Uhn. But you could get your knife again just in case.”

  “No way.” I shuddered. “You actually liked that?”

  “Only because I trust you with my life,” he said quietly into the pillow. “And because I need it, sometimes. That little pinch of fear and pain with my pleasure. I never did anything like that before you.”

  “Ah, baby.” I squeezed a dab of slick out onto my fingers and rubbed it along his perineum and into the tight rosebud of his ass. “If that’s what you need, I’m your guy.”

  I laid the latex dam down on his skin and lapped at his hole while I rubbed the smooth skin behind his balls. He squirmed pleasurably beneath my hands, making sweet, excited noises in time with the restless, noisy spring supports on the underside of the bed. The tight muscles that guard his ass gave way under my intimate assault while I stroked his cock, twisting a gentle hand over the delicate skin, rubbing the head while he hissed and groaned and bucked.

  “You.” He choked out the word. “I want you inside me, Daniel. Now. Please.”

  “Bossy.” I picked up a condom from the bed and fought to open it. In the end, I had to tear the foil with my teeth. I rolled the condom down the length of my cock and got more lube. Then I lined up, pressing in that first half inch, testing to see if he was ready. Despite being tied, he stretched himself and gave a mighty push back hard against me, taking me in, swallowing me in all that dark heat, and I knew that this particular extreme—the burning he probably felt just then—was exactly what he was talking about—what he needed.

  “Yes.” He groaned in relief as he flexed and dipped, riding my cock even though it stretched his arms until his wrists were red and his hands pale. “Yes.”

  I took over then, pulling out and plunging back so he didn’t have to stretch to get that burn, angling and pushing deep, deep, deeper still until I could feel him flat against my groin and my balls slapped his with each thrust. Until his sweat-soaked back arched and his legs trembled and he lost all control.

  “Yes,” he twisted his hands and clung to the scarves that bound him, “Yes, please… Daniel… Daniel. Yes.”

  My own hands shook so I gripped his shoulders tight and kept on driving into him, giving him everything I had to give. When I felt the first deep spasms of his release clench along the length of my cock, I let go and lost myself to the sizzling heat of a deep and satisfying release. He spattered the sheets with cum, and I gasped and sobbed as heat and sticky wetness filled the condom that sheathed me.

  “Baby.” I collapsed onto his back, wrapping my arms around him, still inside. Still connected. I bit his back and sucked up a mark there, making him wriggle and jump a little as I laid my head down and let his fine, strong heart thud against my cheek.

  “Ah… Cam. Love you so much.”

  “Me too, Daniel…Shit.” Cam panted. “Me too.”

  When I would have risen to begin the process of letting him loose, he stopped me.

  “No. Stay. Just for a minute.” I felt his whole body rumble with an almost-purr that made me chuckle. “Just for a little.”

  “All right. But your hands are changing color, and I can’t help but feel that’s a very bad sign.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “I do.”

  He sighed. “All right then.”

  “Coming out.” When I grasped the condom and pulled my cock free, I heard him grunt. “Okay?”

  Cam’s voice was relaxed and sexy. “Oh, hell yes.”

  “Let me just…” I tugged at the scarves that held his knees at the knot where I’d tied them together, and they came apart, allowing him to relax one leg, and then I did the same with the other. After that I let his hands loose, rubbing them gently between mine. “No rope burns or bruises.”

  “Of course not. They weren’t that tight.” He rolled over and sighed. “I gotta climb five flights of stairs carrying like…eighty pounds of equipment at work. A little silk scarf isn’t going to hurt me.”

  “Yeah. I know. You Tarzan, me…Wait. If you’re Tarzan, what the hell does that make me?”

  “You’re mine.” Cam said. “Just like I always knew you’d be.” He put his hands behind his head and sighed contentedly.

  By the time I got a towel and cleaned him up, he was sound asleep, so I pulled the sheets up around him and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

  He opened one sleepy eye. “What was that for?”

  “That was for perfect dreams, baby.”

  His full lips curved into a sweet smile. “I’m living my perfect dream.”

  I couldn’t help kissing him again for that, but I didn’t stay. I had farm chores to do. Well. I had Fireball to see to, anyway, and he could get surly if I didn’t come out right after breakfast.

  When I opened the door, Spot the cat sped in and took up her favorite position, tenderizing Cam’s firm pecs with her paws and settling right over his beating heart. She gave me the stink eye and an indignant meow for locking her out of the room while we fucked.

  “Yeah, yeah. You may be on top now, Spot,” I told her, “but that thing thumping away underneath your ass? That’s all mine.”

  * * *

  Later, dressed in our matching tuxedos and, courtesy of Muse, duly covered with rainbow crocheted kippot, Cam and I were fully prepared to discharge
our duties as best men. We stood on the beach with Jake and JT while Cooper played the violin. The afternoon had turned out sunny, but not terribly warm, so the guests gathered in coats, knit hats, and an occasional scarf, which made me laugh because every time Cam caught sight of one fluttering in the gusty ocean breeze, his face burned like fire. I was willing to bet his blood was also making its way south. Mine surely was.

  Of all the Cams I knew: happy Cam, sad Cam, angry Cam, working Cam, playful Cam, and so forth, the hottest by far was formalwear Cam. He was a massive living doll I would be allowed to strip and pleasure at the end of the night, and I couldn’t wait. I wanted to get on my knees right there, right on the beach in front of every one of his St. Nacho’s pals and peel him out of his trousers and worship him, but then the ceremony began and I lost my chance, because it’s ever so déclassé to blow the best man while the rabbi is talking.

  Silly rabbi, dicks are for…

  Cam nudged me and whispered, “Pay attention.”

  The chuppah whipped around in the wind, but it held, thanks to some ingenious spikes and sandbags and children who kept it in place. The poles had been, as Mary Catherine promised, covered in vines and—in deference to the delay—brilliantly colored autumn leaves. As the ceremony took place, the sky went from blue to a dazzling orange to violet to indigo. The crescent moon shone in one part of the sky and the sun in another, as if there was some magic holding them both in the heavens at once.

  Jana and Katie marched before the grooms like walking confections, scattering rose petals, which got blown all over by the breeze. Jana broke formation to gather them back and put them where she’d been told, but her mother caught her and motioned her forward and the show went on as planned.

  Jake and JT observed the rituals of blessing, the unity cup, spoke their vows to one another, and gave each other plain gold bands. The rabbi spoke the seven blessings of the Sheva Brachot over a second cup of wine in her firm, clear voice, and they shared that.

  For some reason, maybe just because it was natural—or it was inevitable—I caught Bree’s eye and remembered what I’d said to her on our very different, nondenominational wedding day. She gazed back at me and placed her hand over the baby growing inside her. She dismissed me with a warm smile and turned toward Jim, who didn’t really feel comfortable with a same-sex marriage but showed up with his game face on anyway. He clutched her hand like a lifeline.