by Lynda Aicher
“It’s taken you a long time to say that.”
Rock couldn’t look up, but he did manage a single nod of agreement.
“It’s okay, Rock.” The sports announcer’s voice rose in excitement as he described a play and it contrasted with the calm note in Deklan’s. “No one at The Den is going to judge you. You have to know that.”
There might’ve been a part of him that hoped for that, even knew that, but he’d never had a reason to test it before now.
“This guy’s pretty cool then, huh?”
Rock finally looked up, his brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?”
“He has to be someone special to get you to finally come out.”
And there it was. The heat ran up his neck to encompass his face faster than he could will it back. Shit. He looked away as Deklan’s low chuckle rumbled over the continued drone of the sports announcer. He caught himself smiling when he heard only amusement in Deklan’s laugh.
He said a low “Fuck you,” as he stalked to the kitchen, but there was no heat in his words.
“Do I know him?”
Rock tossed his bottle in the recycling bin and turned around. Deklan leaned on the bar, his curiosity displayed in his raised brows, but it meshed with what Rock defined as honest interest. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter, debating. How much did he tell Deklan?
“Yeah,” he finally admitted. There was something freeing in being able to confide in his long-time friend. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled, not caring what Deklan thought.
“I do?” He straightened, his eyes widening before he flattened out the shock from his features.
Rock shrugged. “Where else would I meet someone besides the club?”
“I didn’t think you were into that lifestyle.”
“I’m not.” He was enjoying this. It wasn’t often he had one up on Deklan.
“Then he’s been to the club.” Deklan narrowed his eyes, and Rock recognized the look. The man was probably running through the club’s membership list, thinking of recent guests and racking his brain to identify who it might be. Deklan was the only owner who could name every member on sight.
After a minute or two, Rock relented. “It’s Carter Montgomery.”
“Tyler’s friend?” Rock nodded. “The guy who lives in my condo unit?” He nodded again, and Deklan dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What are the odds?”
“Right?”
“It’s getting ridiculous.”
Rock grunted in agreement. There were a disproportionate number of people from Deklan’s condo complex who had showed up at The Den in the last year. “If I hadn’t done the security checks on everyone, I’d be suspicious.”
He gave a dry laugh. “If Edith and Newman show up at the club, I’m done.”
“Who?”
“An older couple who live in the building. They’re both in their seventies and I have nothing against age, but I think the coincidences would fry my brain.”
Rock understood that. The military trained them to never believe in coincidences. “I’m starting to think you’ve been advertising the club around the building.”
“Like I want everyone there to know I’m a Dom.” He shook his head. “I chose that place so I could be anonymous.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“Great, until Cali showed up at The Den.”
“Which led you to Kendra.” Rock let that statement sit as he swiped Deklan’s empty off the bar and tossed it in the recycling bin.
“Are things serious with Carter then?”
And they were back to that. He eyed his friend before giving a noncommittal shrug. “Serious enough for me to come out, as you put it.”
“So you’re okay with what he does?”
Of course Deklan would remember that detail. But that wasn’t his business at all. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s like me being okay that you like to dominate people to get off.”
“But you’re not fucking me.”
Rock coughed to hide the shock of Deklan’s statement. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The man was always a straight shooter. Still…He let his glare speak for him.
Deklan rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Just be careful.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Dick.”
Rock acknowledged the dig with a tip of his head. “Did you give Seth the same speech?”
Deklan moved to the door and sat on the bench to slip his boots on. “Probably. Then I told him he was being an ass for letting Tyler and Allie leave.”
“Shocker,” Rock said, the sarcasm heavy.
Deklan tied his bootlaces and stood, a smirk on his face. “Which one? Me telling him, or Seth being an ass?”
“Both.” Rock shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned on the wall, waiting until Deklan had his coat on. “Ask her.”
He hesitated on the zipper. “Yeah?”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.”
“Can you see yourself with anyone else?”
“No.”
Rock raised his brows and let Deklan’s answers speak for themselves. Deklan grunted, frowned, then left without another word.
Rock shook his head as he flicked the locks on the door. He turned off the television, grabbed a bottle of water then headed back to his computer room. He had a couple of hours to work before Carter arrived. He wanted to have the structure created on Carter’s photography website before he got there. They’d talked through all of the elements Carter wanted and there were a few he still needed to set up.
The man’s pictures were better than good. Carter just needed to get them in front of people, and Rock was certain they’d sell. They had to.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Come on.” Rock motioned Carter on before he ducked into the opening in the fence.
Carter followed behind as Rock led them back to the abandoned building they’d visited weeks ago. He hooked his camera bag up higher on his shoulder and stepped around a puddle of mud. What in the hell was the man planning? Rock had woken up that morning with a defined plan, backed by a determination that Carter found impossible to resist.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
Rock looked back, a grin in place. “Just wait.” He grasped the backpack hooked over his shoulder and opened the door to the building. The door let out the loud, squeaking protest he remembered as he stepped inside.
The sun glared off one of the few rust-free spots on the door and blinded Carter for a second. He grabbed the handle before it closed and took a last deep breath of fresh air. The lower levels held a rankness of urination and filth that was bearable but unpleasant.
Rock was walking back from an area to the left, and Carter blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.
“This way,” Rock said as he headed for the stairs.
“What were you doing?” He glanced at the desks in the corner, curious.
“Nothing.” Rock bounded up the stairs two at a time, his black military boots making surprisingly little noise.
Okay then. He followed Rock to the third floor, a half-open space like the first floor with a few torn and broken cubical farm walls still in place. The other half of the floor was sectioned off into individual offices.
Rock had moved across the open area to a window partially covered by a broken board that left the top open to the outside. He braced his hands on the window frame and leaned out, glancing either way before pulling back to drop his backpack on the ground then kneeling to open it.
“You gonna tell me what this is about yet?”
“Just get your camera out.” He flashed a smile then refocused on something in his pack.
Sighing, Carter did as he was told, a mumbled “Yes, sir” under his breath. He was adjusting his lenses and checking the focus when Rock stood, hammer in hand. A few hard tugs, and the board popped from the lower half of the window.
“Do you need some help
?”
Rock shook his head but didn’t turn around. “Not yet.” He set the board aside before stowing the hammer and grabbing something else from the bag. He paused to look out the window then stepped to the side as if checking the angle of something.
Unable to resist, Carter moved until he was aligned with Rock to see what the man was looking at. The view was of the open space lined with the crossing of railroad tracks. In the distance, the downtown buildings rose on the other side of the river. It wasn’t that different from the pictures he’d taken last time.
Rock looked back at him. “I want you to take a picture.”
“I kind of got that point.” Carter stood beside him, the cool air hitting his face. He craned his neck to look out the window. “But of what?”
The weather had warmed up in the past few weeks, melting some of the snow to leave behind the dark grit of rocks and sand in the white piles near the roads. A bird chirped in the distance as if it was trying to tell Carter the answer to his question.
“You’ll see.”
Rock nudged him out of the way then stepped back, checking the angles again before he reached up and started writing something on the wall. Carter hadn’t even noticed the large black marker Rock held in his hand until he started writing.
There was various other graffiti on the walls. Random statements and gang tags mostly. The words “wasteland” and “kill” and “die here” were somewhat ominous farther down the wall. He’d taken pictures of those the last time. The drywall around the window had been free of marks until Rock started writing.
When he finished, he stepped back and stared at his work. Carter read the statement then focused on Rock’s expression. Out of habit almost, he lifted his camera and snapped a picture. The determination of the lowered brows and thinned mouth didn’t cover the vulnerability in his pale blue eyes.
Rock spun around, took two big steps and hauled Carter in for a kiss. He responded instantly, opening to let Rock take his mouth and pour his emotions into him. He grabbed at the man’s arm to hold on to something solid as his world tilted. This was more than a kiss, but he wasn’t guessing at what it was.
After a moment, Rock leaned his head against Carter’s temple, his breathing as erratic as Carter’s. “This is for you,” he said. “You gave me the courage to do this.”
He stepped back before Carter could respond and unzipped his coat. He picked up his backpack and set it aside then tossed his coat on top of it. His shirt was next. The black thermal was over his head and tossed on the pile before Carter realized his intent. He stared, speechless at the perfection that was Rock. The muscles across his shoulders and back were finely toned and rippled with movement as Rock brushed his palms over his hair to clasp them behind his head and inhale.
Carter shifted his feet and reached down to adjust himself. There was no way he could not respond to the view after the kiss he’d just received. Hell, he’d respond to either of them separately. Combined it was hopeless. The remnants of a few old scars and a smattering of freckles marred the smooth plane of Rock’s skin, but they only added to the beauty. The narrow line of his waist was accentuated by the low-slung Army fatigues that hung from his hips.
Again, he raised his camera, clicking off pictures automatically. Rock was angled so his left side was facing away from him and with a step to his right, he was able to capture the full profile of his man. With his head tipped back, eyes closed and his arms clasped tight behind his head, the image could have been one of indecision or thought or even prayer. The taut peak of a dark nipple on a broad chest and the chiseled lines of oblique muscles gave it a slightly erotic tint that he hoped he could capture.
Rock broke the pose with a quick drop of his arms as he bent to dig into the backpack one more time. Two military ID tags dangled from a beaded chain, one on the main chain, the second on a smaller toe-chain that hung from the main one.
He slipped them over his head, and Carter clicked a picture. He still didn’t know what Rock was doing or why, but every step of the process had an air of importance that was tangible.
Rock walked back to the window, and Carter took the opportunity to slip his coat off too. The air still had a touch of chill, but the April weather had a southern flow to it that worked with the sun breaks in the clouds to warm the day. But it wasn’t the sun that heated him up.
He tossed his coat on top of Rock’s pile and turned back, only to stop. He could only stare in awe at the image before him.
Rock leaned against the window frame, arms crossed over his chest, his inner leg slightly bent in a not-quite-casual pose. His expression was stoic. His profile cut against the blue sky behind him. But it was the whole picture that sent a shiver through Carter.
Written in clear black letters over Rock’s head were the words I Love, I Hurt, I Served for You. On the line of his tricep, clearly displayed from his bent elbow to his shoulder in black marker, were the words I’m Gay.
“What’s this for, Rock?” The point was clear, the why was not.
Rock’s face was like ice as he stared out the window. The ridge of his scar cut down the side of his face, a faded pink statement of sacrifice. “Make sure you get the flag.”
Carter jerked his gaze from Rock to decipher his meaning. He shuffled to the right and saw what Rock was talking about. In the distance, waving in lazy laps controlled by the wind, was the American flag. He remembered it now but hadn’t really thought about it when he’d taken his pictures last time. It’d been part of the backdrop, not the focus.
The flag was poised on a pole that extended from the side of a building on this side of the river, which put the city outline behind it. From where he stood, he had a shot of Rock, the words he’d written, the flag and the city beyond. The cloud cover hid the sun at the moment, giving the outside a dark gray cast and making the strip of river appear almost black.
It was stunning and left him breathless. He couldn’t have staged a better shot himself.
Quickly, before it was gone, he lifted his camera and started clicking off pictures. The adrenaline rushed through him as he dropped into the headspace of creating the perfect photo. He adjusted, bent, zoomed in and out, capturing different angles, frames and lighting. Time was lost to him as he worked. The world gone except for what he saw behind his lens.
He loved these moments when it all came together and he could almost feel the image talking to him. Get this, don’t miss that, sharpen this, focus here—silent whispers that whirled in his mind and drove his heart.
“Rock.”
The man turned his head, a reflex to Carter’s call. Carter snapped the shot before Rock turned away.
He edged closer. “Can you face the wall? One hand splayed up and flat on the wall, the other mirroring it over the open window?” Rock complied without a word.
Beautiful. The click of the camera sounded through the space, an erratic beat that ticked off each picture, each moment.
He touched Rock’s arm, the one over the window, and lowered it a touch. His skin was warm, despite the exposure. Carter brushed a soft kiss over the bunch of muscle on his shoulder and eased the dog tags from his chest and turned them so they laid down in the valley between his shoulder blades. That cedar-and-sage scent lured him in and he pressed his nose to Rock’s nape to inhale.
“Are you done?” The scratched roughness of Rock’s voice broke the hardened shell that he’d maintained since he’d walked up to the window.
He started to drop his arms, but Carter grabbed a wrist, stopping him. “A few more.” He repositioned Rock’s arm and pressed one last kiss to the glaring word on the back of his tricep.
Rock groaned, but Carter couldn’t tell if was in desire or pain. Both?
He finished his shots, capturing the arc of Rock’s right hand where it brushed at the edge of the words, across to his left that drifted over the waving flag in the background. Rock had turned his head toward the window, his profile pointed slightly down, eyes closed.
Carter swallowe
d, eyes stinging. If he’d doubted what he felt for Rock, it was wiped away now. The bravery, the pure emotion displayed by his lover—his boyfriend—was incredible.
He set his camera back in his bag and embraced Rock from behind. “You amaze me,” he whispered. Anything louder seemed wrong.
Rock laid his head back and wrapped his arms over Carter’s. His long sigh was a release that seemed to reach his bones and loosen the tension that gripped his muscles tight. Carter had no problem supporting Rock when he sagged into him.
He pressed his cheek to Rock’s and breathed with him, each breath timed to be one. He’d never felt this close to anyone.
“I want those pictures.”
“Of course.” He’d give Rock anything he wanted. “Are you going to tell me what they’re for?”
“It’s something I need to do.” Rock’s voice broke. He cleared his throat, his hands clenching Carter’s arms. He shivered but held tight when Carter tried to step back. “Don’t go.”
Carter stilled. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not till Rock forced him to. Try as he might, he couldn’t believe this man would continue to want him for much longer. Each step Rock took further out of the closet, the less he needed Carter.
“Good.”
The confirmation was so soft Carter would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been standing right there. He closed his eyes and held on. Rock was his anchor. If Carter lost him, he’d be lost too. It seemed weak to admit that even to himself because he hadn’t needed anyone since he left home.
What am I doing? A tremble he couldn’t control shook his arms and torso. Shit.
“Hey. You okay?” Rock turned his head to peer at him.
Carter ducked his head and kissed Rock’s shoulder to cover himself. “I’m fine.” His lips moved over Rock’s skin, the natural taste of salt and Rock tempting him to follow the flavor up his neck. “You are so strong.” He hadn’t planned on saying that, but the truth was there.
“I don’t feel that way.”
“You are.”
