by Roni Loren
“Yes, it is. You offered because you’re a good friend. Because you’re a fixer. You were trying to fix me.” He sighed. “The selfish part of me wanted to say yes. But I’ve got enough fucking regrets already. I didn’t want to add more, especially at your expense. So I tried to find other ways to get by.” The ice cubes in Hayes’s glass clinked. “I started playing in Hayven.”
Ren lifted his head at that. Hayes’s expression was tense, like it’d taken a piece of him to admit that. Like he was ashamed. He needn’t be. “I already know about Lenore.”
Hayes’s attention flicked upward. “Wait, what?”
Ren shrugged and poured himself more whiskey, though he didn’t drink it yet. “I overheard you talking to her one night when you didn’t realize I was home yet. I didn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the name Lenore is pretty unique. So when I signed into the game the next time and saw that she only played with Dmitry, I put two and two together. Plus, I remembered that your mom’s family was Russian. Dmitry made sense.” Ren frowned. “You could’ve told me, you know. It’s not like I’m going to judge you for playing.”
Hayes shook his head and scraped a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to know because it’s fucking embarrassing. The big bad dominant relegated to virtual sex and his own hand. It’s pathetic.”
Ren leaned forward on his elbows. “You think the players in our game are pathetic? That Lenore is?”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” he groused.
“You used it for exactly the purpose we created it. As a safe place. Before I knew you were playing, I figured you were just relying on porn.”
“Maybe I should’ve gone that route instead,” Hayes said grimly and took another pull of his drink.
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t existential drinking. It’s breakup drinking.”
Ren lifted his eyebrows. “Come again?”
Hayes scoffed. “Leave it to me to fuck up even the simplest things. Lenore was supposed to be a means to an end, a distraction. Something to make sure I didn’t get weak and do something stupid—like take you up on your offer. I wasn’t supposed to get to know her or like her. I picked her because her avatar was so over the top—like she was there to be shallow and make it all about sex. But somehow, in the sea of people in Hayven, I managed to choose this sexy, fascinating woman. And I got attached. Can you believe that shit? I don’t get attached to subs. You know how I am.”
Ren took a sip of his drink. “I’m guessing she bailed?”
“No. I did,” he said with a heavy breath. “I wasn’t the only one to get attached. I had to end things tonight because she was starting to let it affect her outside relationships. I’ve strung along a woman who should’ve never been wasting time on me and I hurt her tonight. And I know I’ve been hurting you, too.” He looked up. “It feels like no matter what I do, I’m screwing things up or hurting people because I’m having to live scared. And I’m tired of it. I’m fucking angry, man. My life’s been stolen away. And I have no idea how to find my way back. And that . . . is pissing me the hell off.”
Ren took a breath, something like relief stirring in his chest. This is what he wanted to see. Angry Hayes. Hayes who wasn’t going to take shit lying down. The Hayes who’d risked his own safety to make sure Ren didn’t get into Gordon’s car that Christmas Eve night. The man who’d saved him and challenged him to be more.
Ren met Hayes’s stare. “Maybe it’s time you stop looking for a way back and look for a way forward.”
Hayes’s jaw flexed. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
“You said it yourself. You’ve been living scared. Stop.”
“Right. Sure. It’s that simple,” Hayes said, sarcasm dripping from his words.
“It can be.” Ren pushed the stool back and stood, something settling inside him and an utter calm coming over him. “You said you wanted me. You said you were tempted. If that’s the truth, then come to bed, Fox. Take what you wanted back then. What we both wanted. Stop being scared that we’re not strong enough to handle it.”
A tortured look flashed through Hayes’s eyes. “Ren . . .”
He put his hand out. “I can’t be your Lenore. But I know how to submit. And I promise I’m a whole lot better than a whiskey hangover.”
FOURTEEN
Hayes stared at Ren’s outstretched palm, the ache in his chest making him feel like he was going to crack open. “I said I don’t want to use you.”
Ren stepped closer, took the glass out of Hayes’s hands, and drained the contents. Hayes couldn’t help but watch his throat work, couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding down Ren’s bare chest, the tattooed skin, the beautiful lean body he was almost as familiar with as his own.
When Ren plunked the glass back on the counter, there was a calmness there in his eyes. “Use me, huh?”
Hayes swallowed. Nodded.
Ren’s lips lifted at the corner. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not some dude you picked up at a bar. I’m not one of those guys you experimented with in college. This isn’t a hookup, Fox. We’ve been in a relationship since we were seventeen.” Ren leaned forward. “You wouldn’t be using me. You’d be consummating what’s already there.”
“What’s already there,” Hayes repeated.
Ren cocked his head, a wry look on his face. “You think I would’ve put up with your broody ass for so long if I didn’t already love you?”
Hayes blinked, the words like a cymbal crash in his head.
“I mean, goddamn. I’ve had to deal with you for all these years, pine and write you letters while you were in prison, accept your questionable taste in music, share women with you and not touch you, too. And I’ve gotten absolutely no fringe benefits from all these selfless acts. Not even a hand job every now and then. You suck as a boyfriend. Just so you know.”
Hayes stared at him, the words hitting him like a cattle prod. “You love me?”
Ren crossed his arms over his chest, brashness there but also a hint of vulnerability. “What? You don’t love me back, asshole?”
“Well, yeah, but . . .” The words hung in the silence. They’d slipped out easily, without effort or angst. Hayes had never told anyone except his family that he loved them, but he felt the simple truth of the statement like it was part of his DNA.
“But?” Ren lifted a brow.
He shook his head, the mild buzz from the alcohol doing nothing to soften the impact of this revelation, and scrunched his brows. “But nothing, I guess.”
Ren grinned. “Excellent. So you love me.”
“I . . . Yes.” Yes. “I love you.”
Something flickered in Ren’s eyes, relief maybe, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He leaned forward and braced his hand on the counter, a smug look of challenge replacing the tender one. “Good. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Hayes stared at him, and it was like a curtain parting, a new world revealing itself. They loved each other. Had for a long time. He could have this. Without guilt. He could touch Ren. They both wanted this.
That knowledge felt like chains falling away from his limbs, that dragging pull of weight lifting from his chest.
He rose from the stool, a jolt of something powerful and freeing moving through his veins, and reached out to grab the waistband of Ren’s pajama bottoms. Ren’s fists clenched, like he was fighting hard to keep himself still, fighting not to take over. Hayes dragged him closer, the warmth of his skin radiating against Hayes’s knuckles. “I’m going to take you to bed.”
Desire darkened Ren’s gaze. “You sure you remember how to do this, Master Hayes?”
The sound of the old name rang through Hayes, rousing long-dormant things. It’d been a hell of a long time since anyone had called him that, and Ren’s roughened voice saying it was like a physical stroke to Hayes’s cock. But he wasn’t go
ing to require that formality from Ren. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was trigger bad memories for him. “You don’t have to submit. I just want you.”
Ren swallowed hard and held the eye contact. “Maybe I need it as much as you do. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s been living a little scared.”
Hayes inhaled through his nose, trying to bank the need fighting to overtake him. Four years. It’d been four years since he’d had anyone in his bed, since he’d touched or been touched. Four years since anyone but Lenore had kneeled for him. And over a decade since he’d first wanted Ren that way. His voice was strained when it came out. “What’s your safe word?”
Ren’s gaze flicked away. “I never had one.”
The admission twisted Hayes’s gut. That fucking sociopath hadn’t given Ren any kind of reprieve. A sixteen-year-old kid trapped with someone with no mercy, no heart. “Well, you’ll always have one with me. Pick one.”
“Black.”
“Good.” His hand was still gripping Ren’s waistband and he let his fingers slip below the elastic. It didn’t take long for him to reach what he was looking for. He brushed his knuckles over the damp head of Ren’s cock, earning a hissed breath from Ren and an answering punch of desire in his own gut. Hayes groaned. It took everything he had to reel in the impulse to yank Ren’s pants off right there, turn him around and bend him over the counter. The primal ache to just fuck and fuck until they were both raw and spent was like a beast snarling at the gates. The years of deprivation pressed at his will, those years in a cage urging him to act like a starved animal. But he wouldn’t rush this. He wouldn’t fuck this up. “Take me to bed, Muroya. We’ve both waited long enough and I don’t want to do it on the kitchen floor. At least not this time.”
Ren smiled this smile of dirty intent and grabbed him by the shirt. “Let’s go, Master Hayes.”
They were quiet as they made their way down the hallway, but Hayes was sure his pounding heart could be heard down the block. Ren had asked if he still remembered how to do this. He sure as hell hoped so.
Ren bumped open the door to Hayes’s bedroom with his elbow. Stacks of books lined the side of the bed and a big-screen TV dominated the other wall. Other than that, Hayes hadn’t put out any personal things. All his stuff was still in boxes in storage. It was like he’d re-created an upgraded version of his prison cell. Bland. Empty. Temporary.
Depressing as shit.
“Not my room,” Hayes said.
Ren didn’t question. He just backed up and went farther down the hallway until they reached his room. Unlike Hayes’s bedroom, Ren’s looked lived-in, comfortable. Modern pen-and-ink artwork on dark blue walls, a king-sized bed with mussed white sheets, clothes thrown over a leather bench by the window, and no television to distract. Ren had always believed that bedrooms were for sleeping and fucking, not electronics.
Hayes wasn’t coming here to sleep. Ren stepped inside ahead of him, and Hayes shut the door with a push of his foot. He eyed the armoire on the far side of the room. It’d been a while, but he doubted things had changed. Ren had always kept a good supply of toys tucked away in that cabinet.
But Hayes didn’t need any toys tonight. Ren would be more than enough. Too much probably. It would take everything Hayes had to maintain his control.
“Turn around. Let me look at you.”
Ren faced him, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants, a cocky stance. Some things never changed. The guy had always known he looked good. Not that Hayes could argue the point. Finely honed muscles beneath beautifully tattooed skin and deep brown eyes that made filthy promises he knew Ren could keep. Ren had always turned heads and wasn’t ashamed to use that to his advantage. Hayes smirked. “Your dom is showing.”
Ren sniffed, all challenge and smugness. “Guess you’ll have to fix that for me, sir.”
Sir. The formal address made Hayes’s cock flex against the zipper of his jeans. Hayes took slow steps toward him, closing the distance between them and holding his gaze. He stopped in front of him. Ren’s erection was prominent against the soft fabric of his black pajama bottoms. Hayes’s fingers flexed, wanting to feel that heat against his palm, but he resisted. Patience.
“Show me you’re not too drunk to be making this decision.”
Ren smiled, stood steadily on one foot, and started reciting the alphabet backward.
Hayes cut him off before he reached A. “Undress me.”
Ren wet his lips, the subtle shift in his demeanor revealing he wasn’t as calm and collected as he wanted to appear. He stepped closer and went for the buttons on Hayes’s shirt. He focused on the job. One button. Two. Three. But the simple feeling of Ren’s fingers brushing against Hayes’s chest was enough to send goose bumps over his skin and more blood to his cock. The fabric came open and Ren’s eyes raked over him, open hunger there. He pushed the shirt off and onto the floor.
“I like the way you look at me. What are you thinking? No editing,” Hayes said, voice gruff.
“That your body is fucking amazing. That I’m glad I finally get to touch you.” His mouth twitched into a chagrined smile. “That I wouldn’t mind seeing you tied up for me so I could explore.”
The response didn’t surprise him. Ren had been trained to be Gordon’s slave, but he’d been a dominant for far longer. The guy was a natural in that role. And though Hayes had never had an inclination to submit, the image didn’t turn him off like he would’ve expected. Trust was a funny thing. “What would you do to me if you had me bound?”
Ren lifted his gaze, his hands gripping Hayes’s belt. “I’d take my time with you. Edge you. I haven’t forgotten how you are in scenes. You get off on holding back and denying yourself, focusing all your energy on the sub. And right now, knowing how long it’s been, I’d be able to torture you really good. I bet I could get you to come with barely a touch.” The backs of his fingertips teased against Hayes’s hip bones. “I’d strip you naked, tie you up, and then I’d describe all the things I’ve imagined doing to you.”
Hayes’s throat was dry, but he didn’t want Ren to stop talking. “Like what?”
Ren slowly pulled the leather belt through the buckle. “I’d tell you in detail how I would suck your cock. How I’d put my tongue everywhere and fuck you with my fingers while I did it. Then I’d describe how it would feel to be deep inside me. How tight and hot that’d feel around your dick. How hard I like to be fucked.”
Hayes groaned.
Ren dragged the belt out of the loops. “Or I’d tell you about those times when I’d sleep over at your place and stroke myself and fuck my fingers while you slept next to me. How I’d come all over myself and have to clean up without waking you.”
“Fuck.” The words were like gasoline on a bonfire. Ren dropped the belt to the floor and Hayes grabbed Ren’s wrists. He drew them behind Ren’s back, holding them there. “You’re a dirty bastard. You got off while I was sleeping?”
“You’re a deep sleeper.”
“Tell me what you’d think about when you did it.”
Heat flashed in Ren’s eyes as their erections brushed against each other. Hayes’s grip tightened.
Ren didn’t look away—bold as ever. “You. Holding me down, taking whatever you wanted, shoving your cock in my mouth, my ass, using me. Fantasies of you always had a flavor of force.”
Hayes frowned. “I would’ve never forced you.”
“I know. That’s why I could go there in my head. You were the opposite of everything I’d been exposed to before that point. With you, I knew I could get the thrill of that game without the threat. I’d always been attracted to the game. That’s what got me in trouble in the first place.”
The admission was almost too much for Hayes to take in. A force fantasy was what had gotten him thrown in jail. The thought of ever doing that again scared the hell out of him. And in general, his dominance had always bee
n on the more pleasure-focused side rather than the edgier one. But he couldn’t deny that there was a piece of him that craved that darkness sometimes. And the thought of playing that game with Ren was all kinds of tempting.
He released Ren’s wrists. “Finish what you were doing.”
Ren inhaled and nodded, like he was dragging himself back from that fantasy reel as well. He went to work unfastening Hayes’s jeans. “You did this for me that first night. You probably don’t remember.”
“Oh, I remember.” The words rumbled from Hayes as the memory played in his head as fresh as ever. “You were wearing jeans that were two sizes too big for you and black briefs. You got hard. I got awkward.”
Ren smiled but didn’t look up as he unhooked the button on Hayes’s jeans and dragged down the zipper. “I was hoping you’d take it as an invitation.”
“I wasn’t ready for you.” Hayes planted his hands on Ren’s shoulders. “But I’m RSVPing now. Get on your knees, Muroya.”
Ren stilled at that, his gaze jumping upward.
Hayes pushed. “I said knees.”
Ren lowered down, and for the first time, Hayes saw a flicker of that vulnerability, a snap of nerves, reminding Hayes that this was the first time Ren had submitted or bottomed for a guy since Gordon.
Hayes took a steadying breath. “You have a safe word.”
“I’m well aware.”
Hayes took that for what it was. Ren would use a safe word if he needed it. “Touch me. Show me you know how to handle cock.”
Ren’s expression lit with a hint of that trademark wryness and he dipped his hand in the open fly of Hayes’s jeans. Hayes had skipped underwear today, so there was no barrier when Ren wrapped a hot hand around him and stroked.
Hayes groaned and he tipped his head back. “Goddamn.”
The physical sensation of being stroked by someone other than himself was mind-blowing in its own right, but knowing it was Ren stoked the embers to a blaze. It’d been too long. Too fucking long since someone else’s hands had been on him. So many lonely nights in prison. So many long nights since. There was no helping it, no time for analyzing. He had planned to simply put Ren on his knees for a test, to make sure he was okay with this, not to be selfish. But primal instincts took over. The hand and hot breath on his dick were too much.
