by Xenia Melzer
“Sounds interesting. May I ask what the skull of an animal has to do with dreams?” He laughed to take the sting he had just realized was there out of his words. “As you can probably guess from my question, I don’t have a very active imagination.” Unless it comes to torturing cute little twinks, making them writhe and moan and beg under my whip and my hands and my mouth.
Collin shot him a quick, darting look before he concentrated on the street again. “Actually, a lot. Shattered dreams, because a life has ended. The hope for a new life, because the cycle starts again. Time in the realm of dreams before the soul comes back to earth. The dreams of others, impacted by this death. The things the bones tell me. There’s a lot. You know.” Suddenly, as if some kind of switch had been hit, Collin fell back into the fast speaking rhythm he had shown before.
“People always only see what’s right in front of them. They never look past the obvious. I mean, a skull is just bones, a reminder of somebody who’s no longer there. A very biological thing, made of collagen and calcium and other bits that can withstand the elements for quite some time, but ultimately they vanish too. And then there’s the story behind the bone, the force that drove it, the brain that lived safely inside, the soul that elevated it into being more than just a hard shell designed to protect something. Or take the metal pipe. I found it in the woods. Somebody had dumped it there, and I’m not sure what it was for. It’s started to rust and there are things growing on it, I think moss and lichens, and there are little insects living inside and it has become kind of a city in its own, and now I’ve taken it away from the woods and changed its meaning again, and now the insects and the moss have to find a new place to live and that spot in the woods is going to change as well, and nobody ever sees the chronological side of things, the before and after, the things that make the current state possible and define it through what they have been. By collecting all these things, I’ve become a catalyst for various things and the possibilities stretch endlessly in front of me and it’s all colors and choices and forms and kind of hard to understand because it’s so brilliant and so bright and so confusing.”
Collin took a deep breath of much-needed oxygen and glanced over at Martin with a wary look. “I’m talking too much again.” He sounded very timid, and the fire and sparkle were gone. “I’m sorry. Jude says I shouldn’t, but sometimes I forget and then—”
Martin couldn’t stand it any longer. He held up his hand. “Stop right there, Collin. There is nothing you have to apologize for. I enjoy listening to you. I can tell how much you love your art, how deep your thoughts run. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about something you love. And if I make kind of a strange face now and then, that’s not because you bore me, but because your ideas are very complex and it takes some serious thinking to understand them.”
He smiled reassuringly at Collin and, when he saw the happy smile on the young man’s face, decided to try a little joke. “Plus you can talk real fast, and that takes some getting used to.”
Collin’s cheeks reddened, but he chuckled, obviously understanding that Martin was trying to lighten the mood.
Collin drove at a moderate speed, and they could already see Miami in the distance. The mood in the car was now tranquil with an underlying tension. Martin could practically see the wheels in Collin’s head turning as he tried to find a topic that would prevent him from babbling again. Since he was curious what Collin would do, Martin kept his silence. Finally Collin asked, “Why were you stranded out there?”
Given the complex time-and-cause speech Collin had just made, the question was logical, and it impressed Martin how the young man could keep the thread of the conversation even though he seemed to deteriorate from it by asking the obvious. Martin understood, though, that Collin wasn’t asking about the car breaking down. Not really. He smiled and decided to play along. “I have a security firm, and one of my clients lives out there. He’s just built a new house, and I helped him with the security system. Today was kind of a wrap-up, and I’m glad to say everything went smoothly.”
“Is that why you’re wearing a costume?”
The question startled Martin. “What do you mean?” His voice might have been a bit sterner than he had intended, because Collin’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I can’t always say what’s on the tip of my tongue. I keep forgetting that.”
“No, it’s fine. You just surprised me. Few people would ask such a question. So, how do you mean it?”
Collin stared at the road ahead. “This is not you. This suit is somebody else, somebody who had something to do, but it’s not you. At least, not all of you. The clothes you’re wearing are part of a projection other people have of you, and you’re using it. I’m just wondering why somebody as strong and independent as you would need a disguise.”
Martin was speechless. Without any effort, Collin had seen past the designer wear and right into the heart of the matter. “Is that why you stopped for me? Because you saw that I’m not a gangster?” He had meant to make it sound light, but the truth was, sometimes it bothered him how people only ever saw the brute strength in him and were happy to assume the worst.
Collin glanced over before he concentrated on driving again. “If I were afraid of strength, I wouldn’t have stopped. The person under the suit is much more dangerous than the one the suit is projecting. You know that. I can feel your confidence. It surrounds you like a halo, and that’s what’s driven me to you. Something I don’t have.” Collin smiled crookedly. “Besides, I know what it’s like to be stranded at the side of the road.”
There was a wealth of pain in that one sentence, and Martin felt the urge to take Collin in his arms and make all the bad memories go away. There was nothing he could do at the moment, though, not only because Collin was driving, but also because Martin hadn’t yet verified his assumption about Collin being gay. So he just deadpanned. “I’m just glad you stopped for me, even though I was in costume.”
That brought him a quick glance and a light chuckle, and the mood lifted again. As they neared Miami, Collin had to concentrate on traffic and the directions Martin was giving him, so their conversation lulled a bit. When Collin finally pulled over in front of the office building where Martin’s company had its headquarters, Martin knew he had to either ask Collin out or forget about him. “Thank you very much for helping me, Collin. Do you have a landline where I can reach you? I would love to invite you to dinner as a thank-you.”
Collin seemed a bit surprised at first, but then a smile blossomed on his face. “That would be real nice. And I do have a landline.” He rattled off the number, and Martin quickly wrote it down on a piece of paper he found in the side of the passenger’s door.
“Thank you again, Collin. I’ll be calling you later and we can set up a da—” Almost too late, Martin realized the potential innuendo. Even though he was pretty sure Collin wouldn’t recognize it as such, he still didn’t want to take the risk. He would feel Collin out once they were on the date/thank-you dinner. “Um, day.”
Collin still smiled, seemingly oblivious of Martin’s almost slipup. He got out of the truck, patted the door, and wished Collin a good journey. Then he stood outside the building, waiting for the taillights of the truck to disappear into traffic. It was ridiculous, but Martin couldn’t help it. There was something about Collin—he shook his head. He was acting like a lovesick fool just because some pretty piece of ass had taken him for a ride. It was high time for him to get laid. Only it wouldn’t be that easy. Not with the image of Collin floating through his mind. Martin couldn’t believe it. Almost thirty-five years, and now he was falling in love? Impossible. Richard would tease him into next year if he could see him now.
As it turned out, he didn’t need Richard to hand his ass to him. When he entered the building and strode toward his office, his sister, Olivia, greeted him with a wolf whistle and a knowing look in her dark eyes, which were exact mirrors of his
own and a heritage from their Native American grandmother. “Who was the hottie in that shitty truck, and why has he got you mooning like a teenager?” She furrowed her brows as she listened to her own sentence and then fired another question at him. “Why were you with hottie in the shitty truck in the first place? Where’s your shiny new toy?”
Martin groaned. Crap. Olivia had been teasing him about his cock enlargement, as she so bluntly called his new car, since he had gotten it the week before. Now he had to admit it had broken down, which she would remind him of for the rest of his life. And such was his luck, his dear sister could chew two bones at the same time, which meant his predicament with the car wouldn’t get him out of telling her about Collin. Why hadn’t he stayed in bed today? No, stop. If he had, he wouldn’t have met Collin…. Why hadn’t Olivia stayed in bed today?
“Brother mine, I’m still waiting!”
“Can’t you just go away?”
She grinned broadly. “Nope. Not until I’ve fulfilled my duty as your annoying older sister. Standards must be kept.”
“First of all, I keep telling you five minutes is not enough time to make you a real older sister. It just means you were more determined to leave the womb. Second, you don’t have to work at being annoying—it comes naturally to you.”
“Still waiting.”
Martin threw his arms up in a gesture of defeat. She wouldn’t budge, he knew, so he surrendered. “Fine. My shiny new toy died on me, frying my cell in the process. I stood under the glaring sun for at least two hours and numerous people passed me by, not stopping or offering help, because, well, you know.” He gestured down his massive frame. “I was getting ready to walk back, when suddenly this shitty truck pulled over and Hottie offered me a ride. And, yes, I’m going to invite him for dinner as soon as I have a nice long talk with my car dealer. I’m not entirely sure if he’s gay.” Martin listened to himself and added, “The hottie, not the dealer, but my gut says yes, so I’m giving this a try.”
For a moment, Olivia didn’t say a word. Then her lips twitched and she started laughing. When she calmed down a bit, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse and stared at him, full of glee. “I’m going to get some mileage out of the car thing.” She chuckled at her own pun. “And I can’t believe you just tried to defend your choice of ass in front of me. You never do that.” Her eyes narrowed. “You like him.”
Martin shrugged. “And if?”
Olivia sighed, suddenly serious. “Then I’m of course happy for you, but also worried. You know as well as I do that fishing outside the scene can be a dangerous game and almost always involves heartbreak.”
Martin sighed as well. Boy, did he know that. He’d seen it happen more than once—Richard and Dean so far being the only exception to the rule—and gone through it as well, back in the day, when he’d just started out as a Dom and had been young and foolish enough to think love could conquer all. As it turned out, love had serious problems conquering different opinions on the value of kink in a relationship. It was a place Martin had sworn to never visit again, and here it seemed as if he was sailing straight into the heart of the storm. “I know. And I do intend to have the talk with him as soon as possible. I’m not even sure what draws me to him. I mean, he’s nice-looking, but I usually prefer my men better groomed and with less brain.”
Olivia snickered. “Only God knows why that is. It would drive me crazy, having somebody who can’t take care of themself hanging on my apron.”
“You don’t wear aprons. And I’m not sure, but hanging on to a leather corset is probably not as easy. Besides—” Martin flashed her a crooked smile “—you know very well that it makes me happy to provide for others. Having a sub who caters to my every whim and needs my protection and guidance is the ultimate gift for me.”
“Not all of us are mercurial.” Olivia slapped him playfully on the arm. Martin’s contradicting needs—the one to dominate versus the one to care for somebody—were a never-ending source of discussion between the siblings. Olivia was a good Dom, both for men and women, but she preferred her subs to be strong and self-reliant. She needed the constant challenge of a personality as stubborn as her own as much as the satisfaction of subjugating such a person. When somebody didn’t put up a fight, Olivia wasn’t interested. As similar as the siblings were in almost every aspect of their lives, this was one vast difference.
Martin’s need for somebody to depend on him also set him apart from most of the other Doms. Not that there weren’t Doms out there who demanded their subs to live with them or even give up their jobs. But usually those Doms wanted it because of the feeling of control they achieved through the act of having their subs under their rule. Martin did it because he felt good when he could take care of somebody who needed it. He even felt better—or would feel better—when that care came naturally and wasn’t spelled out in a contract. So far, all he had gotten were contracts, and the kind of domestic fulfillment he was looking for was a distant dream he was thinking about giving up.
Martin had tried to have a live-in sub, and it hadn’t worked out. He’d even tried a Master/slave relationship once, but that was so far removed from what he really wanted that he had stopped the experiment only one week into the trial period. Martin never told anyone, but with every failed attempt to find a long-term partner, he doubted more and more his own ability to decipher what he really wanted out of a relationship. What if it wasn’t the twinks who were incompatible, but him? It didn’t help that he had a certain reputation in the scene. His looks ensured that mainly pain sluts sought him out, and his money almost guaranteed nine out of ten of those pain sluts were also gold diggers.
No wonder had he been attracted to Collin, who knew nothing about him and at the same time more than any of the twinks in the club. Simply by looking past the obvious.
“I don’t know, Olivia. I think he has potential. I would love to get to know him better.” Martin felt a wolfish smile tugging at his lips. “I also would love to introduce him to BDSM. I bet that tight ass colors beautifully.”
Olivia laughed. “You’re such an ass yourself.” She leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Go get him, tiger.”
“Soon. First I have to make a call to the car dealer. I hope for his sake this is all covered.”
“Have fun, little brother.”
IT WAS after 11:00 p.m. when Martin finally got off the phone. He’d called the car dealer, who had tried to wiggle his way out of taking responsibility, claiming Martin must have mishandled the complicated electronics. It took massive threats, and finally a call from Martin’s lawyer, before the dealer agreed to waive the cost for repairing the car. Son of a bitch that he was, he flat-out refused to tow the car in, so Martin had to find a company to do the job. That had cost him another hour on the phone. He would have loved to leave it to his secretary, but it was Jennifer’s monthly evening off, when she went to dinner with her friends. The date was holy, and not even the apocalypse itself would keep Jennifer in the office on that day. And should the Four Horsemen think about making her stay, they’d find out pretty quickly there were worse things than death, famine, plague, and war—a cranky Jennifer at the top of that list.
Martin checked the clock. Quarter to twelve. No way could he call Collin at such a late hour. Promising himself he would secure his date first thing the next morning, Martin left the office and went home.
FOR THE hundredth time, Collin stared at his phone. It wouldn’t ring. It just wouldn’t ring. It was already past ten, and his common sense told him the hot guy wouldn’t call, but his foolish heart kept hoping. Martin had been so nice. Which was probably why he wouldn’t call. Collin tended to scare everybody away with his behavior and his tendency to talk more than was good for him. He sighed. It would have been so nice to make a friend. A good-looking friend. Then again, Martin probably wouldn’t have appreciated a friend who kept ogling him and imagining what it would feel like to be kissed by him. Jude was right. Collin was hopeless.
With
a deep sigh, Collin sat down on the old sofa he had found at a flea market. He’d crocheted new covers in the colors of the rainbow to make it look more inviting, and even if he said so himself, he’d done a great job. Dog came running with his stuffed bear between his massive jaws. Jude said it wasn’t good to give Dog a toy and that he was there to guard the property, but Collin didn’t see a reason not to spoil the beast. He was aware that other people feared the rottweiler as a dangerous creature, though Collin couldn’t understand why. Dog was loyal and full of love and tenderness. He didn’t like strangers on the property, but at least he didn’t get out a gun and fire at anything that moved like so many other people. Okay, the thing with the hare had been gross. Collin wasn’t even sure where Dog had found the animal, because hares weren’t exactly common in the city. On the other hand, he understood the gesture for what it was—an attempt on Dog’s part to make Collin happy and to provide for him. So being ungrateful was kind of shitty.
He patted the huge animal on the head. “He won’t call, Dog.”
Collin felt tears gathering in his eyes. He usually lived in a state of bliss. Driving with Martin for almost an hour had somehow fucked with his brain. For the first time in very long, he wished he were better at meeting people. Then he would have charmed Martin with his natural humor, his wit and clever remarks, and the man would have not only called the second Collin entered his studio, but they would now be kissing somewhere private.
As if sensing Collin’s sadness, Dog jumped up on the sofa—again something Jude didn’t approve of—and snuggled his massive head in Collin’s lap, whining softly. Collin petted the soft fur and scratched Dog behind the ears. Sometimes it really sucked to be him.
THE NEXT morning Collin was awakened by Dog’s enthusiastic barking and the ringing of his phone. He scrambled up from the sofa on which he obviously had fallen asleep and stumbled to the old phone on the wall. He picked it up and yawned. “Yes?”
