Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Clint

His plan to get Scotland to back off had pretty much crashed and burned. Truth be told, it was barely a wisp of an idea with a tad of cruelty thrown in. He’d waited for the disgust to bloom when he’d blatantly paraded about with no shirt on, but obviously Scotland wouldn’t be deterred so quickly.

People usually stared at the scars, even when they tried not to. Then, the awkward questions would come. But if anything, Scotland was staring at his chest, his gaze zeroed in on one nipple at a time.

The fucking donkeys, though. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen ones that were quite so small before…or adorable. That hellish noise they’d made had pulled him straight out of his hangry stupor.

And now, somehow, he was eating some of the best steak he’d ever had, on a plate piled with so many different vegetables that he wasn’t sure if they’d ever fit in his stomach. The shit-eating grin on Scotland’s face was even tolerable as the tender meat practically melted in his mouth.

“S’good,” said Clint, stabbing another bean, mushroom and piece of steak before shoveling it in his mouth like a miniature kabob. When he moaned at the taste, a pink flush bloomed over Scotland’s face.

The guy was cute—that he could come to terms with—but he was also dangerous.

“I can’t promise every meal will be steak, but I’ll try to keep you from getting hungry while you’re here. And if you need a snack, just shoot me a text, and I can grab something on my way home from work.” Scotland licked his lips, the blue tips of his hair falling forward as he ducked his head.

“Let me know the time, and I’ll make sure I put on a shirt,” Clint mumbled, looking off to the side. The house was tastefully decorated and bright, with a modern look, despite the century-old exterior.

“I don’t have any rules out here,” said Scotland. “If you want to walk around nude in the bush, I couldn’t care less. You’ll probably get a bunch of mosquito bites on your balls, though.”

“No thanks.” Clint grinned, closing his legs at the mere threat of bug bites. “I went on a camping trip with Ross when we first started going out. The temperature dropped to just above freezing every night. It was the only trip that I never had a bug bite. Usually, they love me.”

Scotland took a slow bite, blatantly staring. “You must be sweet or something.”

Clint straightened his spine before clearing his throat. The meat had made him sleepy, but a little light flirting and he was wide awake. “Or something.”

“Did you guys do a lot of camping?” asked Scotland, snapping a bean between his teeth. “I rarely do, myself. This place is already so close to camping that there really isn’t a need. I don’t need an uncomfortable mattress or to wake up covered in dew just to hear the crickets singing at night.”

Maybe Scotland wasn’t trying to flirt, but it still felt like it. Clint forced himself to relax. “Not really. Some glamping trips in cottages and the like, but rarely out in the tent. I’m not very good at the whole ‘no electricity’ thing. Not much of a boy scout, either.”

Clint set his fork on the table, leaning back in his chair. “There’s no way I can fit another bite.” He rubbed his belly, which was full and stretched. He could go for a nap and Scotland would clean up, but that wouldn’t be fair. “I’ll do up the dishes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Scotland, copying Clint’s movements. “You’re a guest. And besides, there is a dishwasher.”

Asshole.The type that wanted to cater to his every need had never been his type. It always felt a touch unbalanced to him.

“I wasn’t actually asking a question,” said Clint, raising one brow as he grabbed his plate and utensils before heading to the kitchen sink, which was only a few steps away. Depositing his stuff on the counter, he returned for Scotland’s dishes.

Scotland reached for him, grasping Clint’s wrist as he went to retrieve the plate. Biting back his gasp at the contact, Clint tugged his arm, nearly whimpering when he wasn’t able to break free. What’s he playing at? I…can’t.

It felt good to be powerless again. He didn’t let his eyes flutter shut, no matter how tempted he was.

“I can’t quite figure you out, Clint,” said Scotland, turning Clint’s wrist over in his grasp. His hold was tight, his finger digging deep into Clint’s bones. The whimper was real as Scotland shifted his hold, forcing Clint a step closer.

“Do you want me to cherish you or did you want me to push you against the wall and fuck you, no matter what you have to say about it?”

Where the hell did that come from?He was pretty sure Scotland had been just another sweet guy a moment before, but now he was pushing buttons that hadn’t been pushed in a long time.

“Traffic light system?” asked Scotland, standing from his chair without letting Clint go. This is going so fast. He wasn’t at the club. He hadn’t even had anything to drink, but his head was already swimming.

Clint swallowed dryly, not sure where to look. His skin prickled, a fire building in his gut that wouldn’t be hidden for long with the way his pants were hanging so loosely.

“Yeah.” Shit. Am I doing this? “J-just let me do the dishes first.”

There was no way. Absolutely no fucking way he was getting laid tonight. His cock twitched as Scotland gave his wrist one last squeeze before letting go.

“Of course.”

I could resist, but… It had been a while—too long. And it would only be once. Next time he’d have his guard up. Fuck it. Yeah, it was going down.

He grasped the plate, ignoring Scotland’s smirk as he turned back to the sink and started up the hot water. A few drops of soap later and he plunged the dishes into the little clouds of bubbles.

When he felt the tell-tale tickle of Scotland’s breath on the back of his neck, he let out a shuddering gasp, slipping his hands beneath the surface of the water as the cool fabric of Scotland’s T-shirt touched his back.

“L-let me do the dishes,” said Clint. A plate nearly slipped from his grasp. His voice sounded so meek that he wanted to pause and slap himself across the face. But he was already getting lost, the submission sliding over him like it had never left. I can’t let myself get too deep.

“I won’t stop you,” said Scotland, setting his hands on Clint’s hips. He curled his fingers, running them over the little dip on the inside of Clint’s hips.

His skin prickled, his spine going rigid at the sensation that was so strange yet familiar. Scotland moved his fingers, teasing the edge of his pants until they slipped lower. The drawstring had already accidentally untied itself at some point, and they were barely hanging on.

“Keep washing,” said Scotland. A moment later he pressed his lips to Clint’s neck.

It was too good. The heated touch of soft lips against one of his most sensitive spots made him lose his breath and his mind, all in one instant. He tilted his head, giving Scotland access as he deepened the touch into something with just a hint of teeth and pain.

“I don’t ask a second time, Clint.” Scotland dragged his teeth over the sensitive tendon before biting down into Clint’s shoulder.

Clint hissed, grabbing the dishcloth and scrubbing it against one of the plates a few times. Water splashed on his front and over the edge of the sink at his enthusiasm. He jerked as Scotland bit him a second time, harder and close to breaking skin.

“Do you know how much bacteria is in the human mouth?” asked Clint, twisting as Scotland nipped the back of his neck before gentling his kiss. “You can bruise me but don’t draw blood.”

Scotland chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose along the top of Clint’s spine. “You’ll survive.”

With that, he sank his teeth into the meat of Clint’s shoulder, the sharpness digging deep. Scotland had always seemed so sweet and nice, if not a little desperate. I didn’t know he had this in him. If Clint had known, maybe he would have given in sooner. No. It’s just this once.

“Fuck.” Clint dropped the plate into the suds, clutching at the counter as his knees went weak. It had been too long since he’d ached like that. His gut throbbed, his track pants giving everything away beneath the lip of the counter.

Keep washing. Scrambling for the plate, he gave it a few more rubs before tossing it into the drying rack. Suds flicked over the counter, a bit splashing onto the ground. So much for cleaning up. The sting faded to a throb, splitting into two as Scotland bit him again.

“Never took you for a fucking vampire,” said Clint, his hands trembling as he searched for the utensils beneath the bubbles. Something sharp pricked his finger but he barely felt it.

“What can I say? I like to bite,” said Scotland, a grin in his voice. “It makes me feel primal, like a beast that’s getting ready to fuck you dry.”

Clint’s mouth was parched, a steak knife zipping against his finger as he met it under the murky water. He pulled his hand back with a gasp that turned into a moan as Scotland tugged his pants the rest of the way down and went to his knees. Blood dripped down his finger, immediately mixing with the water on his hand and turning pink.

“Lean forward,” said Scotland, leaving no room for argument. That voice. It was the voice of his dreams and nightmares.

Clint swallowed harshly, bracing his slippery hands on the back of the sink as he leaned forward. He spread his legs as his pants were removed the rest of the way, tilting his ass out as his cheeks were spread.

He’d forgotten how good it was to have someone’s mouth on him. The touch of a tongue against his rim and strong hands digging into the globes of his ass were like paradise. His body couldn’t seem to remember what to do as he went to his tiptoes, shuddering and whimpering as suds dripped from his hands. It was stranger that he remembered…and loud.

“How long has it been?” asked Scotland, sounding so calm as he stroked Clint with one finger, teasing his rim and dipping only the tip inside.

Years.“A while.” Clint let his head fall onto his forearms, warm water brushing his cheeks as the smell of dish detergent overwhelmed him. He’d scened with Cutler, but sex had been strictly off limits for that, along with any and all forms of penetration.

“Those dishes aren’t going to wash themselves,” said Scotland as he slid one finger past the tight ring of Clint’s entrance. Fuck. He was full already, clenching down as his body protested.

“Jesus.” Clint whimpered as he forced himself upright, nearly losing his balance as he plunged his hands back into the sink. “You are such an asshole.” The water was getting cooler, or maybe it was him getting hotter as Scotland slid a second finger deep. It stung, stealing his breath as he tried to accept the intrusion.

“There’s only one asshole I see right now, and it’s not mine,” said Scotland as he withdrew his fingers all at once.

Clint rocked back, chasing the feeling as emptiness washed over him. Truthfully, he’d never thought that he would be fucked again in this lifetime. Ross had been his one and only love. Nothing and no one had ever managed to be a blip on his radar compared to that.

“Hilarious.” Clint hissed as he found the knife with his finger. Before he could get sliced again, he grasped the handle, tugging it out of the suds and tossing it into the drain tray. Everything would probably have to be washed a second time with how crappy of a job he was doing.

But he couldn’t focus as Scotland stood, bringing his naked cock against Clint’s ass and slipping the shaft between his cheeks.

“Condom.” Clint turned his head as Scotland rutted a little deeper, the head of his cock pushing against his entrance.

“Who says I’m going to fuck you?” asked Scotland, quirking one brow. “You’re a needy boy, but you can’t even wash the dishes properly.”

His knees went weak as Clint let out a keen, closing his eyes as the words rolled over him. He was needy, and he wanted it now. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He could barely breathe with how much he craved it.

“I’m trying, but you keep pushing me around.” Even as Clint said it, Scotland nudged his hips forward, so Clint’s hard cock was pinched between himself and the sodden countertop.

“You aren’t trying hard enough.”

Well, fuck this.There was no way he was going back to his cabin tonight without getting fucked, condom be damned. He’d never admit it, but he trusted the blue-haired bastard to keep him safe.

Shoving himself back with all his might, he whirled as Scotland stumbled, grabbing Scotland by the shirt to keep him from falling. The bite marks stung as he prowled ahead, pushing Scotland back until his ass caught the lip of the table.

One moment they were standing, and the next Scotland’s leg caught on the table leg, sending them both to the floor. Clint landed on top, his breath squishing out of his lungs as his full weight landed on Scotland.

But he didn’t need to breathe when that perfect cock was pressing against his ass, only an inch away from his hole. Reaching behind himself, he grabbed the shaft, tilting his hips as he aimed it at his hole.

“Clint, wait—”

The head of Scotland’s cock popped through his entrance with a zing of pain that went straight through him. His chest went tight, warmth flooding his core as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He gasped as he sank down, taking him deep, despite the dry drag and overwhelming ache.

“Fucking brat.” Scotland cursed, grabbing his hips hard enough to bruise. He didn’t stop him, only squeezed hard as Clint pushed himself inevitably closer.

“What can I say?” Clint panted, his mouth hanging wide as the ache washed over him like sweet candy. “I’m greedy.” He shrugged, despite the zing that traveled up his spine from even the slightest movement. His cock was throbbing, the scarred skin at his hip tingling. There was only one thing that could make it better.

He rocked back, cutting off his thoughts as Scotland sank a tad deeper, splitting him apart in a way that he used to crave. Bracing his hands on Scotland’s chest, he eased forward, letting him slip almost all the way out before he drove back again in one sharp thrust.

“Fuck. At least let me get some lube,” said Scotland, forcibly trying to cut off Clint’s movements. His grip was sturdy, but Clint was stronger in this position.

All Clint had to do was jerk his hips, grinding down onto the blissful pain. I missed this. Fuck, I missed this so much.

“Don’t need lube. I’m close.” He was probably only a few stuttered jolts away from coming, the discomfort sending him there faster than he could have imagined. Fuck stamina.

Clint’s back hit the floor, his breath whooshing from his lungs as Scotland flipped their positions. Emptiness shattered his haze as Scotland’s cock slipped free from the movement, a heavy ache breaking through the fog.

“You don’t get to come—not tonight.” Scotland’s eyes were pitch dark, his hair surrounding him like a demonic halo. Shoulders straining, he half-dragged Clint across the floor, hefting him straight into his naked lap.

“Fuck that—” Clint’s words turned into a long groan as Scotland simultaneously slammed back inside and wrapped his hand around the base of Clint’s cock in a punishing grip.

“Try not to scream.”

Clint wouldn’t have been able to scream if he’d tried. Scotland jackhammered his cock inside, hitting his prostate with every thrust. The onslaught of Clint’s orgasm came and went, trapped beneath Scotland’s hand as his grip went tighter and tighter.

Tears rolled down his face as Clint dug his nails into Scotland’s ass, urging him faster and harder. His skin buzzed, his gasping breaths drowning out the blood rushing through his temples.

“That’s a good boy,” said Scotland as his hips stuttered and he buried himself all the way one last time. His cock pulsed, warmth flooding Clint’s ass as his own orgasm flitted away to nothing, his cock throbbing and so painful that it only made the tears come faster.

Good boy.The retort fizzled on his tongue as Scotland slipped out with a sigh, warmth following the move in that embarrassing way that only ever happened after the best fucks. It may have been a long time for him, but he certainly wasn’t tight after that pounding.

Scotland leaned on his hands, caging Clint’s body in as he throbbed. The smirk on his lips had turned into something soft and knowing. “I think I got my answer.”

Ah hell.