Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Clint

“What are you doing?” Clint stretched out on the lounge chair that was quickly becoming his favorite piece of furniture on the property. With the midafternoon sun beating down on them, the weather was almost summerish again. The chill was sure to set in at night, though, lining the windows with threatened frost.

“We’re gonna make s’mores,” said Scotland. He was kneeling next to the fire pit again, a metal poker stick in one hand, and a lighter in the other. Instead of the metal flick lighter, though, this one was in the shape of some kind of fish, the flame shooting from its mouth when Scotland clicked it.

“The hell you are.” Clint jerked upright, his sandals slipping from his feet as he scrambled to grab the lighter and jerk it from Scotland’s grip. “We haven’t had rain in over a week. All this grass could go up with a single spark.” He shook his head, his hands trembling as he looked at the gaudy plastic he’d grabbed.

Why would someone make something like this?Fire wasn’t a novelty. It was dangerous.

“I’ve got a bucket of water right there,” said Scotland, pointing off to the pail he’d lugged across the lawn. The water was nearly at the brim, but there was no way it could cover the whole lawn.

Rolling his eyes, Clint tucked the lighter into his waistband. There were probably about three buttons on it that he’d have to push to actually light the thing, but it still settled against his skin uncomfortably. “Sometimes water just makes it worse.”

A shiver flowed under his skin. And sometimes water did nothing. He could still remember flickers of the deluge coming from fire hoses aimed at what used to be his home. The flames had simply roared higher, consuming so quickly that even the steam seemed to disappear into the night.

“That’s why I’ve got a fire extinguisher inside the door.” Scotland motioned toward the house. Clint had checked the thing out himself when he’d slept in the main house for the night, making sure it wasn’t expired. People always seemed to forget about that.

“I don’t want to push you, Clint,” said Scotland, leaning back on his heels. He was in short sleeves again, his tattoos tracing up his arms. At some point overnight he’d dyed the tips of his hair a different color. Orange suited him much better than blue or purple—not that Clint noticed or anything.

Motioning to the small pile of kindling in the fire pit, then back to the split stack a ways away, Scotland frowned. “I hate to see you afraid. Every day you sit here or at the fire pit behind the cabin and stare at the ashes for hours like you’re trying to tell me something. I’m just trying to listen.”

When did he get so damn stubborn?He’d been different since they’d returned from grocery shopping a few days earlier, keeping more to himself and leaving Clint to listen to the silence of the forest alone. It hurt and twisted something inside his chest.

“And I’m just trying to be practical.” Clint pulled his lip between his teeth. “There is no reason to start a fire right now.”

“There’s no reason not to.” Scotland raised one brow, pulling a second lighter from his pocket.

“Well, now you’re just being an insensitive prick,” growled Clint, grabbing for the lighter and tossing it back at Scotland. “I almost died in a fire, asshole. My husband did die in one.”

“I know,” said Scotland softly, catching the lighter with ease. “And you haven’t trusted yourself since.”

“That’s…” It’s not true.

A flame burst from the mouth of the lighter as Scotland clicked the button, lowering it to the paper he’d packed loosely between the kindling days before. Clint’s breath cut off, his heart rate jacking as it caught, spreading across the black ink like a rising tide.

The smell hit him first, the cinders, the decay, and something that had always made his mouth water and his cock hard. His chest was in a vise at the same time he felt himself firm between his legs, springing to attention as the first piece of wood charred and caught fire.

It was mesmerizing. The slow dance and the way it licked at the wood the same way he remembered it flickering over his skin after Ross restrained him. The heat of it was nothing to how it was against him—on him.

“We went camping once,” said Clint, his heart slowing as he thought about the trip that was still ingrained in his memory. The flames called him in deeper as they spread to a larger log and Scotland took a step back as the warmth grew stronger.

“There were six of us—all couples.” He licked his lips. “The others went to go swim at a little lake that was close to our campsite. We were tucked out of the way in a spot that looked like someone had hacked it out of the forest with an ax alone. The nights were terrible.” He rolled his shoulders. His back had ached for a week after sleeping on the ground when their air mattress decided to deflate on the first night. He’d been too cheap to go get a new one, even though Ross had had ample money.

“We were out of the house—where I was usually Dominant—but Ross grabbed me by the wrist when I wasn’t expecting it, shoving me against a tree.” He looked to his wrists where he could almost see the rope that had bound him in place, wrapped around the trunk completely naked. “The bark hurt the most. I hadn’t expected that. It tore at my chest and scratched up my cheek.” His cock had been in even worse shape when he’d tried humping as Ross had squeezed his ass before spanking him a few times.

“He had something in his hands. I didn’t even know what it was until I felt the wetness on my back and caught the smell of it.” His mouth flooded with saliva. It was just like smoke curling from the pit, only brighter—sharper.

“I didn’t know what he was using for fuel then, but I recognized the smell deep down. We’d talked about fire play before, but I’d never thought it was something Ross would do to me. It was so dangerous.” He curled around himself, reaching for his back.

“The first letter was an ‘S’. I remember thinking he was drawing a snake before he lit it. I wish I could have seen what it looked like as it burned so hot I thought I’d be scarred forever before he smothered it with a fireproof blanket.” He leaned back against the chair, sweeping one hand over his groin. He was rock hard. “The second letter hurt so much more. It was an ‘L’ and he made it big enough that the bottom was just above my ass. When he lit it, I screamed, but not for long.”

“Did he gag you?”

Clint started at Scotland’s voice. He’d been so lost that he hardly remembered where he was.

He shook his head. “No. He choked me out.”

Dragging his nails over the tops of his thighs, he let out a shudder. “He lit the ‘U’ when I woke up. I came as he smothered the ‘T’ and pushed me against the tree, making me hurt.”

“Holy fuck.” Scotland was flushed as he dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes dark in the light of the fire.

“Our friends saw me when they came back from the swim—still naked with letters burned into my skin like sunburn. I didn’t think I would ever come down from that high.” He chuckled, grinning.

“The drop sucked, though. Ross did everything he could, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile for two weeks. It took me a month to convince him to do it again.”

Leaning forward, he raised his hand toward the flames, waving his fingers as the heat singed his nerves. “That’s why I don’t like fire. Because I know I’ll never get to have it again—not in the way I want, at least. It took that from me. I won’t let it take anything else.”

“I’m sorry,” said Scotland, standing from his chair and heaving the bucket of water off the ground with a grunt. “I’ll put it out.”

No, no, no. It had barely begun, and the flames seemed so trapped within the circle, far from whipping out of control like he’d expected. Not yet.

“Wait.” Clint bit his lip, sawing it between his teeth. “You promised me a s’more. I’ve been good, right?”

* * * *

Scotland

He was going to die a happy man with a hard cock, blue balls and a broken heart. Friends. I can do this. He’d fucked up in the tattoo parlor, and in the grocery store, too, but it wasn’t going to happen again. Hell, that sucks.

He’d been pissy after a long day and a no-show, so when he’d spotted Clint by the fire pit again, he’d had enough. He grabbed the closest lighters at hand with every intention of starting a bonfire. What are friends for?

I’m done.He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He was a bit of an asshole, so what? Belittling someone’s trauma like that was one of the biggest dick moves he’d ever pulled. But he’d fucking tried.

He’d tried the sexy way and the conditioning way where he’d set fake flickering candles at the dinner table each night. Clint would always look at them before turning them off without comment.

He couldn’t have expected Clint’s reaction as soon as the flames caught. He’d been ready for fear or another breakdown. Hell, maybe that was what he’d been hoping for in his own fucked-up way.

“I think maybe you should go back to Unkinked,” Scotland bit out, resting his elbows on his knees to shield his groin from view. He had to get Clint away before he spiraled any deeper into whatever was going on. Scotland had pushed people before, but he’d never been such an outright asshole.

Clint snapped his gaze up, scrunching his forehead in confusion. The s’mores were forgotten between them, the chocolate-covered cookies probably getting soft from the heat of being too close to the fire. But Scotland refused to move back when Clint was pressed as close as he could without actually getting burned, leaning forward in his chair and completely entranced.

“Why?” Clint clutched at the armrest of his lounger. From his position, Scotland could see everything from the bulge in his pants to the peaks of his nipples through his shirt. He’d been turned on since the flame had licked the first curled edge of the paper.

Dragging his gaze away, he looked to the field. The donkeys had retreated to the far side to lounge in the shelter of tall grass, and they probably wouldn’t move much for the rest of the night. “I’m not sure if this was the best idea, after all.” He shrugged, rubbing his hand over his face. “I thought I could help—even if it was just a bit—but I’ve fucked up so many times.” The sex, the Dominance and now the fire… Their time together hadn’t been some of his finest, even if it was worth cherishing.

“What are you talking about?” Clint scratched his chin. “I didn’t think I’d last an hour out here, especially with you. No offense.”

Scotland rolled his eyes. It was hard to let that slide off, especially when he couldn’t quite name how much Clint had come to mean to him.

“But I can’t remember the last time I was this happy and calm.” Clint let out a sigh, tilting his head back and finally leaning away from the flames. “I can remember, actually, but I never thought I would get that again. You’re a good friend, Scotland.”

“But a shitty Dom,” said Scotland, pressing his lips together. “I can’t count how many times I’ve been dissed for being a switch, but maybe they were right all along. I can’t be both—not really. I can’t submit as much as a natural submissive, and it’s the same with Dominance. I’ll always have that little spark inside telling me to do the exact opposite.”

Clint nodded, his gaze locked on the fire. Scotland wasn’t sure when he’d looked back, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes away for long. At least he was farther back in his seat now and not teetered on the edge like he was ready to dive in at any moment.

“Tell me about it,” said Clint. “When I discovered kink, I’d thought I’d finally found somewhere I truly fit in, but that didn’t last long. I didn’t think any Dom would ever want a boy who sometimes wanted to be the boss. It seemed no sub wanted a Dom who chose to kneel on occasion. You’re not a shitty Dom, Scotland.”

“I didn’t do right by you.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. Clint’s entire stay had been a clusterfuck of pushing boundaries that should have been left alone. “I never should have fucked you, knowing that you weren’t in it for the long run. I never should have started this fucking fire.”

He knew he wasn’t talking about the flames—and maybe Clint did, too. There was something burning between them, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to put it out. “I never should have kissed you.”

Clint cleared his throat before reaching into the package of cookies and chomping down on a chocolatey edge. “For the record, I’m glad you did.”

What?Clint had resisted him nearly every step of the way. Where the hell was this coming from? Scotland stared at him and the slight swell of his lower lip. All it would take was a single move, and he could feel them again. Somehow, he knew Clint wouldn’t stop him this time.

“I thought of something,” said Clint, running his hand through his hair. “I’m surprised I didn’t think of it earlier.” He turned until Scotland could see the flush on his cheeks. “You know I scened with Cutler, right?”

Those rumors had spread through Unkinked like a contagion, courtesy of Maddy and Keady. He nodded, swallowing the jealousy that instantly threatened.

“Cutler is a friend.” Clint’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

He hadn’t thought they looked that friendly the last time he’d seen them speaking. Rumor had it that Keady had almost been kicked out of the club, and Cutler had had words.

“Okay.” Scotland reached for a cookie of his own as Clint slid the package his way. The marshmallows were open but most of them hadn’t been touched, their sweetness filling the air.

“So…” Clint raised one brow before licking his lips and catching a stray bit of chocolate. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Scotland said slowly. “We just talked about this. We’re friends but nothing more… Oh.” He widened his eyes, giving Clint another look. How the hell am I going to do this?

On one hand, he wanted to yell out ‘yes’ and kiss Clint right there, but the pang in his chest stopped him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Clint. I’m talking about an emotional hurt.” He cut off whatever Clint was going to say with a wave of his hand. “I need a personal connection with my partner, and I think they need that, as well. It’s too easy to get wrapped up in kink and forget about what’s more important.”

“This is personal,” said Clint. “You’ve been following me around for months, and hell, I’m practically living with you right now. I know you aren’t going to walk out on me after a scene or a fuck. I trust you.”

When he’d started the fire, he’d been hoping to offer reassurance, not drown in the deep end. His heart could only take so many hits before it gave up for good.

But maybe Clint was right. It wouldn’t be perfect, but if they were friends, at least he could be there for Clint in whatever way he needed. Hell, some friends were even closer than married couples.

“But I thought you weren’t ready,” said Scotland, the final tether of hesitation holding strong. “Ross—”

“Would want me to have this,” said Clint, tilting his head to the sky. Sun washed over his face, his freckles standing out with vibrance. “He loved me, even if he was an asshole. He always knew what was best for me. Something’s telling me that this is best.”

Maybe he believed in heaven, Scotland wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Love like that didn’t just fade away, and it wasn’t something that was ever forgotten or replaced. He’d never had a chance. But I can’t walk away.

“Let me think about it,” said Scotland, letting out a huff before grabbing another cookie. “We’re going out tomorrow night—you and me. I’ll have an answer for you by then.”

Clint grinned, every engraved worry line relaxing. Fuck, he was beautiful. I have to say yes. He clenched his hands into fists, willing his Dominant side to stay strong. He wasn’t telling Clint. I’ll see how long it takes him to figure it out tomorrow night.