Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Scotland

Scotland rolled over, pressing his body against Clint’s as Clint murmured into his phone. It was dark out, and far past the time they should have both been sleeping. The crickets were chirping outside the cracked window as they had been most of the late summer, starting to get softer as cooler air swept in.

But in the club not too far away, the night hadn’t ended, people probably packing the walls until bursting and getting their kink on in every which way. Maddy had called ten minutes ago as Scotland held Clint in his arms, drawing circles on his naked arms as they dozed.

The sound of the cell phone had jolted them both awake. It was the first time Scotland had heard anything more than text notifications from it. It was one of the rare nights that Clint had kept it on, usually turning it off as soon as he skimmed over his texts.

“I’ll be right there, Maddy,” said Clint, shifting until he could sit up. Scotland let out a groan, wrapping his arms around Clint’s waist and refusing to let him go any farther.

It had been three weeks since he’d dragged Clint into his bed with every intention of not letting him go. Twenty-one days since he’d fucked Clint in the gym showers with their breaths echoing against the walls. After they’d come home together, Scotland hadn’t been that rough again, making love to Clint on every surface in and outside of the house.

The front porch had been a great spot, with Clint laid out beneath him and the sun shimmering low in the sky. Halfway through a walk in the bush hadn’t been quite as nice, the bugs leaving bites on both of their asses with how long Scotland had teased Clint.

But reality was a bitch.

Scotland would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes to find Clint staring back at him, his eyes red but sleepless. Other nights Scotland woke to whimpering, and he would pull Clint close. Clint would flinch when he woke, grabbing the nearest shirt and dragging it on, putting his hand against his scars as he trembled.

The only time he truly seemed to rest was when Scotland fucked him sweet and slow, letting him come, then fucking him through it. Clint would get a few hours of rest then before he pulled away to pace the bedroom, only coming back to rest under the sheets when Scotland pretended to be asleep.

“Wake up, baby,” said Clint, tapping his cold fingers against Scotland’s arm. “I know it’s late, but you’ve got to let me go.”

Scotland jolted, rubbing his face into Clint’s back. He hadn’t realized he’d started to drift back to sleep again while clinging to Cling like a giant monkey.

“No.” Scotland tightened his grip, pulling Clint back to the bed so he could shove his face into Clint’s belly. It was his favorite part. Every time he looked at Clint, he would find something he hadn’t noticed before—something that begged him to never forget.

His scent had changed during his time in Scotland’s bed, some of the cleaners from the club finally fading until there was fresh air and home with the sweat of someone who was a quick study at learning to chop wood.

He couldn’t imagine the warmth of Clint’s skin gone, nor the end of their morning coffees together. His fridge was bursting at the moment with so much more to cook for Clint—enough that he would never go hungry.

“I’m not letting go,” said Scotland, shaking his head and breathing deep through his nose. Letting out a hum, he kissed Clint’s belly, his lips lingering on the swirled skin. “If you go, you won’t come back.”

It was the thought that had been plaguing him since the first day when he’d spotted Clint on the porch of the little cottage and his heart had refused to listen to reasoning. It was temporary—Clint in his arms, his partner in kink and in his home. His heart hadn’t listened.

It was almost painful to look at Clint most days and watch that beautiful smile that had gone from forced to genuine in a matter of days. When he’d successfully chopped wood for the first time, that grin had lit up his world.

“I…I’ll be back,” said Clint as he touched Scotland’s arm.

Scotland blinked in the darkness, all hints of sleep gone in an instant. In the few times he’d caught Clint lying, it had never been over something so real. Clint had lied about being okay so many times he’d lost count, but something like this… It could break him.

“Maddy called with an issue at the club, that’s all,” said Clint, running his fingers through Scotland’s hair even as he slipped away and stood from the bed. “Derreck will be here to pick me up in a few minutes.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” said Scotland, releasing Clint and grabbing the edge of the blankets to throw them back.

“Okay.”

Scotland froze, every muscle losing power. I didn’t expect that. “Oh.”

“You can come with, and we’ll crash at the club after. Maddy said something about cops, so it might not be short.”

Cops.Scotland shot up, scrambling from the bed and grabbing the nearest pair of pants. “Shit. What happened?” Now he just felt like an asshole. “We can take my truck and get there faster.”

“Derreck will be here soon,” said Clint, flicking on the lamp before rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I’m not sure of all the details, but someone called the cops, and they are at the club right now. It didn’t sound like they were trying to arrest anyone, but if someone like Maxim shows up, that’ll change. I just need to get there.”

Scotland grabbed a hoodie, throwing it on just in time to hear two honks right outside the bedroom window. He winced a moment later when he caught the sound of two braying calls as the donkeys sounded the alarm in the darkness. The remaining crickets fell silent, the night going still.

“Ah, hell.” Scotland grabbed the wall as he nearly tripped trying to get a sock on. Adrenaline pulsed through him, sleep the last thing on his mind. It wasn’t that he disliked cops, but they had a way of misunderstanding kink. Unless handcuffs are involved.

“Here.” Clint grabbed the sock from his outstretched hand, cradling Scotland’s foot and slipping it on. He was on his knees, his gaze focused and his tongue between his teeth as he caressed Scotland’s bare ankle before reaching for his other foot and slipping the second sock on.

“Thanks, love.” Scotland leaned his head back, letting it thud against the wall. Thrusting his hand into Clint’s hair, he let out a sigh. Is this going to end? Clint was so fucking good for him. He’d never be able to go back to the way things had been.

The horn blared again, followed by another bray, shattering his peace with a burst of sound. There were a few moments in his life that he wished would last longer, and his time with Clint was among those.

When Clint tried to stand, Scotland tightened his grip on his hair, keeping him on his knees. His chest was tight, breath barely making it into his lungs as his eyes stung. He let out a shaky breath, but his voice still trembled when he spoke. “Is this going to end? I need to know before we leave this room.”

“Scotland—” Clint started. That tone. Scotland had heard it before from subs, Doms and boyfriends alike just before they parted ways. The tentative softness was always a lie—the pickax ready to jab him straight in the heart.

“I had the time of my life, Clint.” He couldn’t stop the tear from rolling over his eyelid, tracing down his cheek. “These weeks with you have been some of the best in my life. You’re the best man I know.”

The horn blared again. Does Derreck have to be so fucking persistent? One more moment, that was all Scotland was asking for. One more fairytale second to be with someone he’d never expected to fall in love with.

Looking back, he’d never had a chance. Clint was everything, but Scotland was just a tattoo artist with some land and a couple of donkeys. He had friends, but no one who would understand. They all thought they knew who Clint was—someone unreachable, even for him.

“Can we talk about this another time?” asked Clint, trailing his fingers over Scotland’s wrist, his voice calm and soft.

Scotland released his hold, dropping his hand to his side. It was now or never. Once Clint stepped through that door, he would be gone like a leaf on the wind. There was nothing to hold him here. No threats of vacation, or forced time away from the club. He would go back to his friends—his life—and Scotland would return to whatever he had been doing before.

“Sure.” Scotland wiped the stray tear away, offering his hand to help Clint to his feet. “We’ll have lots of time.” It was a fucking lie.

* * * *

Three cruisers?Scotland almost couldn’t believe his eyes as they pulled up the gravel drive. The area had expanded since the club first opened, leaving room for twenty or so cars. The cruisers blocked off any chance of exit, trapping anyone who may have wished to leave. Since it was pushing one o’clock in the morning, that would have been most of the patrons.

One officer was at the front door, the door itself wide with a few people gathered around. Another was standing at his car, his arms crossed as he glared into the light as they approached. Derreck flashed his lights before shutting the vehicle off in a move that could have been considered accidental if Scotland hadn’t known him better.

Derreck was usually a quiet guy, but their entire drive had been silent, the air thick with so much tension that Scotland had felt like cowering in the back seat. Clint hadn’t said a word, staring out of the window and perking up as they had finally reached the right road.

Clint was out of the car before the engine had shut off, Derreck not far behind. Scotland ran a hand through his hair, shaking off his nerves. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with cops, but he had a lot of respect for them. Despite some of the hits they took in the media, he was still calling the cops if someone ever broke into his house.

Cops and kink didn’t go so well, though.

“Can I help you, Officer?”

Scotland caught Clint’s question as he ducked out of the car. The closest officer— the one leaning against his cruiser—shifted his stance, widening his feet as he dropped his hands to his sides. He was built with a few tattoos on his arms. It wasn’t Scotland’s work.

“Are you the owner?” asked the officer, his eyes sliding over Clint and landing on Scotland.

Scotland gripped his fists tight, stepping just behind Clint. Hopefully, it would offer him some moral support. Clint snuck his hand back, tangling his fingers with Scotland’s before giving him a soft squeeze. The act was enough to extinguish every bit of unease.

“Yes, I am,” said Clint, glancing at the door where another officer was approaching. “Did you have a warrant or did you just feel like trespassing tonight?”

Oh shit.Scotland blinked. Clint could be a fiery son of a bitch, but he hadn’t seen him quite so sassy before.

“We had a complaint that there was someone underage on the premises. When we arrived on scene, we heard a scream, which is more than enough probable cause to enter.”

Clint let out a sigh before running his hand through his hair. “Well at least someone was having a good time.” He glanced at Scotland, a flash of a smirk on his lips before he turned serious. “Since I assume you’ve searched the whole place by now, did you find anything other than consenting adults having a good time?”

“Uh…” The officer’s flushed face was obvious, even in the dark.

“Every person that comes through the doors has a membership,” said Clint, his grip going tight again. Scotland dragged his thumb over the back of Clint’s knuckles, trying to soothe him. “To get a membership, you have to show ID, have a criminal background check and sign about three dozen waivers. If someone managed to slip past all those checks, then the Dungeon Master will escort them off the premises before they make it past the first hall.”

The second officer arrived mid-rant, the furrow in his forehead more pronounced because of his lack of hair. His sleeves were rolled up, a familiar dragon tattoo carved into his arm.

“We’ve made three arrests.” The second officer flexed his arm, and Scotland had a sudden realization. The tattoo was familiar because he had done it himself, from the epic scales to the dark tail that had literally made the man cry.

“Hey, Duncan,” said Scotland, speaking up for the first time. The second officer’s eyes went wide as he looked at Scotland, obviously recognizing him.

People said a lot of shit when they were in his chair, the needle buzzing between them and gentle music playing in the background. The adrenaline messed with people’s heads, making them spill their secrets as Scotland gently tortured them. Duncan had been chattier than most.

“Who the hell did you arrest?” asked Clint, apparently oblivious to Duncan’s shock. “There are no weapons permitted on site, and anyone breaking the rules is shown the door.”

“There were two offenses of open liquor,” said the first officer, ticking off two fingers.

“This is a private establishment, asshole, and I have a license,” said Clint, his arm bulging as he clamped his hand down tight.

Ow, ow, ow.Scotland winced, trying to keep a straight face as his hand was squeezed.

“There was also someone practicing medicine without a license, but we let that one slide…” The officer seemed to wilt at Clint’s intense glare.

“Are you fucking with me? I’m a nurse, and there are three doctors who are members. If someone was doing some stitches, it was probably one of them. Also, most of the members are certified in first aid. I taught and certified them myself.”

Scotland shifted, trying to adjust himself. Clint was good and smart, hitting his competence kink head on. He also seemed completely fearless, despite the tremble of his grip.

“That doesn’t account for the drugs,” said Duncan, finally seeming to get over his shock. “There was more than one person with marijuana, although we are only charging one.”

“So you’re charging people for legal drugs now?” asked Clint, bristling. “I have some Advil in my bag. Did you want to arrest me, too?”

Scotland cleared his throat, catching Duncan’s eye. “Seems a bit better than what we would find in your center console, Duncan.”

Clint cast him a strange look as Duncan took a step back, stuttering out a single word before he continued to retreat. Scotland kept his glare mild. He didn’t have to do anything more. He remembered every little word about Duncan’s admissions over his addiction. He hated to use something like that against a guy, but come on.

“The blatant display of honestly despicable behavior in there is sickening,” said the first officer. That had Clint grumbling under his breath. “I’m surprised you haven’t been shut down before. Even if the concerned caller was a hoax, I’m glad they called. There were a lot of dangerous situations in there that we luckily got diffused before anyone could get hurt.”

Clint tugged his hand free, cracking his knuckles in front of him. “So that’s how you want to play.” His grin was nearly deranged, his eyes narrow and feral.

Holy fuck. If he had known about this side of Clint, he wouldn’t have faced him in the boxing ring without a hell of a lot more focus. Sure, he’d seen Cint take care of a few assholes in the club before, but the Dungeon Masters had always been at his back.

“You give me the word, and I’ll have so many lawyers crawling up your ass that you won’t be able to help but come. Everything that happens in these walls is not only fantastic but completely legal. The last asshole that tried to take on people like us failed in spectacular fashion. So, I’m going to give you one last chance. Apologize to everyone who you’ve inconvenienced, and get the hell off my property.”

“Clint!”

Clint’s head shot up and Scotland’s gaze followed a moment later as someone appeared at the open door of the club. People parted to let him through, his uniform looking different than the other officer’s. He seemed vaguely familiar, like someone Scotland may have seen a time or two passing through, but his features were common enough that he would have been easily forgotten.

“Tensall,” said Clint, holding out his hand as the other approached and shaking his hand once. “It’s good to see someone intelligent here.”

Tensall rubbed the back of his head, a strained smile on his lips. “Sorry for the disruption tonight, Clint, and for coming out here so quickly. I’d hate to interrupt your vacation for long, so I’ll keep this short.”

The blue and red lights flashed against his face, casting a shadow over his features. It was impossible to tell if he was thirty or fifty, but his hair looked dark. His eyes were dark, too, but strained in a way that suggested he had seen more than his fair share of things in life.

“We aren’t pressing any charges here tonight, and everyone has been released. It sounds like the one who called it in was a Phil something—an ex-member? I’ll take care of him.”

Scotland watched Derreck crack his knuckles beside him, narrowing his eyes.

Tensall glanced from Clint to Scotland. “I’m glad I caught the call on the radio before things got out of hand. I wanted to check in myself to see if a certain person made an appearance and that was what all the kerfuffle was about.”

There was something Scotland was obviously missing.

“I haven’t seen Henley in a couple of months. I’ll let him know you are looking for him when he pops by next,” said Clint, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I still can’t believe he won’t return your calls. Are you sure you have the right number?”

“No need to say anything to him,” said Tensall, shaking his head. “I’ll catch up with Henley another time. I’m hoping to make it a surprise the next time I see him. That guy loves surprises.”

“That he does,” said Clint, a real smile touching his lips. “I’ll keep it as our little secret.”

“Come on, guys,” said Tensall, looking to the other officers. “There is nothing to see here. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Duncan grumbled, jerking his car door open and slamming it shut once he was inside, gravel kicking up as he hit the gas. It left small ruts behind, but it was a relief to see him gone. Tensall stared after him, his arms crossed and forehead furrowed.

“Who the hell is that guy?” whispered Scotland as the remaining cops readied to leave, the stragglers coming out of the building and returning to their cruisers. A few members started over to Clint, one nearly naked in the cool air.

“A member named Henley used to work with him in some kind of special forces outfit,” said Clint, shrugging as he turned to Scotland. “Henley moved away a little while ago and shortly after, Tensall stopped by. He started working with the local police a little bit ago, and he’s hoping to connect with Henley when he’s back in town. Something about an old case they were working on.”

’Cause that sounds completely plausible…

Scotland wrapped his arms around Clint’s shoulders as the others approached, pulling Clint back into his chest. He was exhausted, hungry and wanted Clint back in his bed where he belonged.

A few people gave them strange looks, and Scotland tried not to wilt. It didn’t help when Clint went tense in his arms when he squeezed tighter.

Was it already time? One step back to Unkinked and what they had was over?

Clint pulled away, and it was like a stake through his heart. Scotland tried to play it off, wiping the nonexistent dirt from his pants and staring after the last of the flashing lights as they trailed out of the lane.

He glanced down at his legs when he felt something tickle at his ankle. He realized for the first time he’d accidentally grabbed Clint’s pants instead of his own, the waist cinched tight and uncomfortable.

He couldn’t stop looking at Clint and the way Scotland’s pants sagged from his hips, the hem dragging on the ground and catching under the sandals he’d thrown on. They were Scotland’s, too.

“Time for damage control,” said Clint, stepping toward the club.