Just as they were getting into a nice personal rhythm Brett received a call from DC Swift. Celia’s body was being released and she could be brought home from Canada. It happened fast and Brett had to make last minute arrangements to return to Vancouver and escort his sister’s body home. Of course, he’d be traveling during the same few days Rylan was headed out of town with his students for a competition.
“Are you sure you’re ready to do this alone?” Brett asked while they packed for their respective trips. He stood in the hall between their bedroom and the one Rylan used to store his clothes.
“I am,” Rylan said and smiled softly. “Those children are facing their first serious competitions and I’m their coach. I can’t miss this. I intended to go with you to bring Celia home, but I think they need me more than you do.”
Brett nodded. The truth was, he never intended to push the issue and hoped Rylan would decide to continue with the competition plans. “I think Celia would be the first one to say you have to put your commitment to those kids first and not shirk your duties as a coach during competitions.”
Rylan leaned through the doorway to set his suitcase in the hall. He straightened and cocked his head and put a hand on his hip. “Rylan Hennessey,” he began, voice higher than normal. He shook the finger of his other hand at Brett. “You will be with your team and you will be the best damn coach in the competition!”
“Crap, that’s scary,” Brett said and laughed. “You do Celia better than Celia did. It’d be even more impressive if you had some clothes on.”
Rylan grinned and flipped Brett off, which was Brett’s cue to grab him about the waist and pull him close. “I think you need some time in the chair.”
“Hmm.” Rylan laid his arms on either side of Brett’s neck. “If you say so, sir.”
The morning they were to leave, Rylan went with Brett to take Row to the kennel. Rylan would return home first and the plan was a quiet evening at home after Brett retrieved Row and they were together again. Brett figured Rylan being on his own, without Brett to depend on, for a few days would be a good confidence boost for him. At least he desperately hoped so.
When Brett arrived at the airport in Vancouver he tried to call and text Rylan to let him know the itinerary for his return with Celia’s body. There’d be a memorial service the following week.
Rylan offered only brief answers to Brett’s communications and he didn’t initiate any. Brett convinced himself it was because Rylan was too busy getting his kids through the competition and back again. He reminded himself how hectic and utterly exhausting those things were.
Brett arrived home in the evening to a dark house, other than a glow from the television. He flipped on lights as he walked through, Row padding along beside him. The sounds from the television weren’t from a movie or show, it was audio from the tribute performance for Celia.
Brett’s heart sank.
He’d hoped this trip would go well for Rylan, but he wasn’t so sure it had. As he walked into the large den his foot hit something. In the dim light cast from the TV, Brett caught the glint of light off glass as a bottle rolled across the floor. It came to rest against another bottle with a soft clink. A quick scan of the room revealed a half dozen empty beer bottles. On one of the tables flanking the couch sat a whisky bottle and glass. There wasn’t much gone from the bottle, but combined with beer and a man who didn’t normally drink, it was plenty to induce inebriation.
Gathering the beer bottles on the way, Brett made his way around to the front of the couch. Brett expected to see Rylan either passed out or not even there, presumably having gone upstairs to bed. Rylan was slumped on the couch, staring at the television. Brett snagged a grocery bag out from under the table and dumped the empty bottles in it. The bottle of whisky was capped and he picked up the glass with some of the clear, amber liquid still sloshing around the bottom.
“What are you doing?” It was an enormous effort on Brett’s part not to snap. As it was his tone was terse. “So they didn’t walk off with the whole competition, that’s no reason—”
“They did great,” Rylan said softly. He looked up at Brett. His eyes were red rimmed and his face blotchy. Rylan hiccupped a few times then blurted out, “They did fucking great and I couldn’t even go out on the ice with them during the group awards.”
“Rylan, no one—”
“Cares? I care! I can’t do anything now. Look at that,” Rylan shouted and waved at the television screen just as the video reached a point where Rylan executed a complicated jump. “At least I could still do that, not all the time, but—” He stood up, lost his balance and stumbled backward, landing on the couch. One of the pillows went flying across the room. Row trotted over and sprawled on it, wagging his tail.
“No one thought a thing of it!” Brett yelled back. “That’s what I was going to say! The only person who sees you as something less than what you were is you. Yeah, the skating part of your career ended, but you went out at the top. Most people can’t do that.”
“It’s all gone. Celia’s gone. Everything is gone.” Rylan lurched forward, head in hands.
“Not everything,” Brett said quietly. “Don’t even think about showing up at Celia’s service if you’re not sober. As a matter of fact, don’t come at all with this attitude. She always said you weren’t a spoiled brat like a lot of the others. I don’t want that ruined,” Brett spat the words out. “C’mon, Row. Upstairs.”
“I need help getting…” Rylan’s words faded off when Brett turned on his heels and stalked to the door.
“Figure it out yourself.” Brett didn’t look back and didn’t wait for Rylan’s response.
* * * *
Rylan woke up with a dry mouth, throbbing headache and Row licking his face. He groaned and pushed off the couch to sit up. The television was showing static and the whine was annoying. He felt around for the remote, located it and shut the TV off. Row paced between the sliding glass door and Rylan, whining and poking at Rylan with his nose.
“Okay, okay.” He couldn’t find his cane but managed to get up with the aid of the couch and hopped to the door, opening it far enough for Row to scoot out.
He stood leaning one arm against the wall and watched Row wander the area between the house and frozen over pond. Row would go up to the pond’s edge, but not cross over from land to ice. Rylan wondered if Brett had trained him to do that, or if he did it on his own. Since Rylan had been there Brett hadn’t issued any warnings about Row and the pond, and he’d issued plenty of warnings concerning Row and his care.
After about ten minutes Row trotted back to the door. Even though Rylan was standing right there, Row still barked until the door was open far enough for him to get back into the house. That made Rylan smile.
Row sat in front of him and barked again.
“What?”
Another bark. This time some tail wagging was added to the performance. Rylan shook his head and made his way to the cabinet where, among other things, a bag of treats for Row was kept. Row followed him and stood waiting, somewhat impatiently Rylan thought, while a treat was fished out and handed over.
“You know no one gives me a treat every time something comes out of my dick.”
Row barked and Rylan tossed him another treat. He began wandering around the room, straightening it, talking to Row as he went.
“No matter how hard I try, it seems I take a step forward and then go two back. Maybe one sideways. Brett’s probably going to toss me out on my ass and frankly I wouldn’t blame him.”
Rylan hopped to the bag of bottles Brett had gathered up the night before. He put it under one arm and took the whisky bottle, returning it to its place in the cupboard. He set the garbage bag down and folded the blanket and arranged it over the back of the couch.
Scooping the bag back up he turned to the door and stopped short. Brett leaned in the doorway, blocking his path. He held a cup in one hand. Rylan watched the steam rise and smelled the aroma of coffee. Brett lifted the mug i
n a mock salute and smirked.
“How long have you been there?” Rylan asked softly.
“I nearly bite my tongue off at the comment about the treats. And for the record you get plenty of rewards for things coming out of your dick.” Brett held up his free hand and bobbed his eyebrows a few times.
Rylan tried to keep the laugh from bubbling up, but it was impossible. “You get rewards too.”
Brett nodded and took another sip of coffee. “I never said I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. So very sorry. Faye keeps telling me I have to stop competing, with you, with others, in general. She says to work on my need to always be the best at whatever I do.” He looked up, meeting Brett’s gaze. “Brett, I don’t know how. I’ve spent my entire life working to be at the top of whatever game I’m in. I don’t know how to lose.”
Brett studied him for a minute. He sighed and put his free arm around Rylan and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head. “Rylan, you’re not losing. It’s a change. Helping others reach the top and win isn’t a loss for you, but a double win.”
“I know that. In my head. The rest of me doesn’t seem to want to see that logic,” Rylan admitted. “I don’t want to miss Celia’s service.” He had no doubt at all Brett would carry through on his threat to not allow Rylan to attend. Hell, Rylan wouldn’t let anyone into Celia’s memorial who couldn’t act respectfully, so he didn’t blame Brett’s reaction. In fact, he’d almost expected it.
“I don’t want that to happen either,” Brett said softly. “That’s the last thing I’d want.”
“I’m going to ask Faye for an extra meeting or two I think.” Rylan stepped away from Brett and rubbed his forehead. “Ugh, I’ve never had a hangover. This is horrible.”
Brett burst out laughing. “Wait right there.” He headed for the kitchen and was back a minute later with a large glass of water. “Drink up then go upstairs, shower and for God’s sake brush your teeth. We’ll have some breakfast and I have some ideas to keep you focused on something where you can be the best, at least to me. We can talk them over.”
“Thank you.” Rylan dutifully stood and finished off the water before setting the glass on the table. “I’d like that. Thanks for not kicking me out.”
“I wasn’t going to kick you out. Yet. Continue being an ass and I might rethink that decision. Do you need help getting up the stairs?”
Rylan shook his head. “No.” He hobbled past Brett to the staircase, stopping there. Faye’s words about competing with Brett and letting him help came to the forefront of Rylan’s mind with a vengeance. It made his head pound a little more. Hanging onto the stair rail he turned back toward Brett. “Actually, yes, I would like some help if you don’t mind.”
Grinning, Brett set his coffee cup down and strode to Rylan. It made Brett happy to help Rylan, that was abundantly clear. Rylan wanted Brett happy and it made Rylan happy when it was something he could accomplish. It was a win, a small one, but a win nonetheless.
The shower made Rylan feel almost human again. He brushed his teeth for a full five minutes at least, and used almost a third of a bottle of mouthwash. He still had a headache, and his stomach was iffy, but he didn’t smell so bad he offended himself. Brett had left him to clean up in private, and from the aromas wafting up from the first floor he was in the kitchen putting together breakfast. Rylan’s stomach fluctuated between rolling and rumbling at the thought of food. He hoped it would behave because breakfast sounded like a great idea.
Rylan toweled off his hair then pulled on a pair of sweatpants and T-shirt, nothing else. He made his way to the kitchen, crossed the room, and slipped both arms around Brett, resting his cheek against the back of Brett’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “I love you,” he murmured.
Brett reached back and ran his hand along Rylan’s side. “I love you too. We’ll get through this. I think finally being able to bury Celia and have her memorial will be good for us.”
“Move forward?” Rylan asked.
Brett nodded and nudged Rylan back a few steps. “Breakfast is done.” He opened the oven and pulled out a small baking dish overflowing with something that smelled amazing. “Set the table?”
“Sure.” Rylan arranged plates and silverware while Brett poured coffee and set the baking dish on a trivet. His pain medications were sitting on the table, along with another tall glass of water. Once Rylan was seated, he tossed the pills into his mouth and drank the entire glass of water while Brett dished their food out and sat across from him. Row flopped down on the floor between them glancing first at Brett then at Rylan, probably hoping for some morsels to be thrown his way.
“At my last meeting with Faye, there was a professional Dom who joined us. He works with people, subs mainly, who’ve experienced some sort of trauma or major life change.” Brett paused to sip his coffee and take a few more bites of food. Rylan quietly ate, sensing he needed to let Brett finish his thoughts without interruption. “He—they—gave me some examples of what’s worked with other people. While I was on the plane to Vancouver I spent some time thinking of a few techniques that would go along with your general preferences. Faye stressed that was paramount, scenes and using equipment that are your favorites. If we get success, she said to experiment with new things.”
Rylan nodded. He finished his breakfast to give himself time to compose his own opinions. His pain meds had kicked in enough to clear some of the pain from his knee as well as his head. He put his fork down and moved the plate away before resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands together. “I think the smartest thing for me right now is trust that whatever you decide to do is going to be the best thing for me. For now, I really need someone else to make some decisions for me, and there’s no one other than you I’d let do that for me.” He reached across and took Brett’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Are you up to beginning today?”
“I’d like a nap first.” Rylan grinned and made a face. “I’m never drinking again.”
Brett chuckled. “Fair enough.”
* * * *
For the second time that day Rylan woke up to Row, this time licking his hand. Rylan cracked his eyes opened and rubbed Row’s ears. “Hey, dude.” He slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, stopping for a few seconds to take a good look at the specially adapted chair Brett had built. Rylan liked it and was pleased to see Brett had set it up while Rylan was sleeping. He wondered what Brett planned and felt excitement curl through his belly and lift his sour mood.
When he returned to the bedroom Brett was waiting for him. “Feel better?”
“Yes, very much. Thank you, sir.”
Brett had a few supplies set out on a small table near the chair. Rylan’s chair was solid wood with more than adequate padding. It was designed so he could lower himself to simulate a kneeling position. There was a special arm to support his injured leg in a number of positions. At its full height Rylan could hitch his leg over the support arm while balancing on the ball of his other foot or hold his weight with his hands. The real beauty of it was Rylan could be restrained by his position and how his weight was supported alone.
Today Brett had adjusted the chair so Rylan would have to lay his torso across the seat, the arm for his injured leg was extended, and he’d have his knee stabilized while his leg was stretched behind him. This position they’d used several times, it mimicked one of Rylan’s favorite skating movements, a camel position. He felt strong, stable, graceful, exposed, and sexy.
Brett picked up a chastity device. This one held Rylan’s cock so an erection wasn’t attainable. Rylan bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze to the floor. He was already half hard.
“We can stand here until your cock is soft enough, which could take some time. Or, you can use this.” Brett held out a small folded towel.
Rylan took the towel, already suspecting what was inside and from the weight of it in his hands he’d guessed correctly. Part of being a sub was not only coming when permitted, but also controlling
his erections. He’d only partially mastered that second activity. A cool gel pack wrapped in a towel was helpful in achieving a flaccid penis.
He rested his right leg on the chair’s extension arm and balanced on one foot, facing Brett. He closed his eyes and worked on calming his body, inhaling and exhaling slowly and deliberately.
His Dom wanted Rylan’s cock soft, that’s what he was going to get.
Rylan rested the cooling pack on his thigh, but didn’t touch it to his groin as he had on other occasions. It was an aid to help him, but he could do this, control his body this way without help. A few more minutes went by than Rylan would have preferred, but the heat in his groin quenched and his cock softened.
“Very good, boy,” Brett said softly. “Would you like to put this on yourself or do you want me to do it for you?”
Rylan opened his eyes, delighted by the soft smile on Brett’s face that greeted him. “I’d love for you to put that cage on me, but if you touch me I don’t think—”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Brett stepped forward, took the towel, and gave Rylan the chastity device.
After a bit of fumbling and making adjustments, Rylan got the cage in place. This one was plastic and meant to be worn for extended periods if so desired. Rylan’s cock was held in such a way it prevented erection, but not stimulation. Brett used a small key to lock it in place. It wouldn’t come off unless Brett took it off.
Brett reached around Rylan and patted the seat of the chair where Rylan’s chest would rest. “Turn around, chest on here, leg behind you, arms out. Camel position.”
Rylan was quick to comply. Just thoughts of what might come next heated Rylan’s groin again. It was delicious torture having those sensations, yet no hard-on and his balls were held away from his body. The warmth in his groin traveled a leisurely path to his belly and chest.
Brett’s hands were on him from behind, slipping the leather harness around Rylan and snugging it firmly above his hips. Next cool lube was worked between Rylan’s cheeks and around his entrance, making him gasp and shiver. He had to readjust his weight on his left foot to keep his arms extended at his sides. A plug was inserted into Rylan and positioned so it just brushed his prostate. Brett pulled one of the harness straps between Rylan’s legs and fastened it at his back, a tiny click and a second lock was snapped into place. The strap would hold the plug securely inside him.
Edge Jump Page 21
