3-Ties That Bind (6 page)

“I’ll throw them on the grill,” he told Derek, took the platter, shoved his feet into his boots and went out to start the grill in the cold. Derek watched him from the window, admiring the way the boy’s muscles flexed. Derek was no slouch, but Glen trained daily. He’d noted bruises on the boy that he hoped were from training and not real-life experience, although Derek knew better than to ask. Navy pilots were trained like they’d be dropped and left in enemy territory. Derek remembered similar training in the Marines.

The decision to leave the military wasn’t an easy one. But fifteen years had been enough. These days, he taught self-defense and weaponry to corporate types and would- be bodyguards who traveled to dangerous places.

Since he’d lost Jared, he’d been lonely as hell. He’d gone to the bar four months after because he’d needed a release. Found some nice guys but no one who did it for him the way Glen did.

He thought about Glen’s earlier words—
It’s hard to let go of what you thought you needed…

So goddamned true. And the boy had definitely been patient enough. So after they’d eaten and were relaxing on the couch, he started, “Jared was the name of my sub who died. We were together for four years until he died. A car accident. We’d had a fight and he stormed out.”

He put his head down, because even now he could slip into blaming himself so easily. “We didn’t live together—that was always a sticking point between us. But deep down, even though we loved each other, I don’t think either of us wanted to take that step. I was still in the military—I didn’t want to deal with the scrutiny.”

But really, that was an excuse.

“At least you were honest about it with him,” Glen said.

“Even so, I stayed in something so I didn’t have to push myself or go outside my comfort zone,” he admitted.

“And now?”

“I want more. I think I’ve found it.” He brushed a hand over Glen’s cheek. “The sub Mark was talking about… I took him on after Jared. He was really into pain. I didn’t scar him, but I gave him what he wanted, even though it wasn’t my thing. So Mark was right—I hurt my sub, but he forgot to mention that it’s exactly what my sub wanted.”

“I guess we both did stupid things out of grief.”

“Yeah. But I think what we’re doing now is a good thing.”

“Even though… Are you getting what you want by doing what I want?” Glen asked. “Because if you’re not—”

“It’s exactly what I want,” Derek told him, and for the first time in a long time, he truly meant it.

Chapter Six

The following weekend, Glen met him at his house instead of the bar. Derek thought it best for them to get some more time alone under their belt before going back there. He wanted the boy to be on firm footing.

Truth be told, he wanted Glen all to himself, wanted to be selfish with their time together, since he didn’t know when or for how long another mission would take the boy away from him.

He left the door open, sat on the couch with a beer and the book he’d been reading. Glen knocked lightly and came in, sat next to him on the couch after taking off his sneakers.

He put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes as he settled in comfortably. He wore loose, ripped-up jeans and a T-shirt, and there were more bruises on him.

Derek went into the kitchen and brought him back a Coke, because he wanted the boy awake. “Rough one?”

Glen nodded, his eyes still closed. “But sometimes it just helps you to know you’re alive.”

Derek put a hand on Glen’s thigh and Glen grinned. The boy was much lighter than he’d been, and if Derek were honest with himself, so was he. Glen had to have noticed it too.

“What about you? Long day?” Glen asked after he downed half the soda.

“Christmas shopping,” Derek admitted and Glen rolled his eyes. “What? You’re not into Christmas?”

“Haven’t celebrated it in years. Why start again now?”

“Because you didn’t have me then.”

Glen opened his eyes and Derek watched him bite back a smart-ass answer. Instead, he just touched Derek’s cheek but didn’t say anything.

He hadn’t bought Glen anything, but he definitely had a gift in mind for him—in fact, the boy had been in his thoughts most of the week. But he didn’t push the Christmas talk now, instead told Glen, “You want to be tied tighter. Held more strongly. You crave that.”

“Yes.”

With that confirmation, he planned on giving Glen exactly what he wanted—what he wanted too. The feel of that strong, muscled body below him, all that power, gentled just for him and him alone. Gave himself over to Derek for safekeeping, and that was a task Derek didn’t take lightly.

“I want to do something to you,” he told the boy.

“Like what?”

Derek smiled, wickedly enough to make Glen’s stomach feel like it was full of nerves. He finished the soda, then stood and stripped. “Okay, then do it.”

Derek didn’t hem and haw, ordered him upstairs. Brought him to the second bedroom, where leather cuffs hung down from a hook on the ceiling. “Arms up.”

Glen swallowed, complied and Derek tied his wrists tight. Kicked his legs open and reached for the spreader bar on the table. Clamped each ankle so he couldn’t move anything, could barely sway his body.

Derek started with his nipples—a squeeze and then a lick, until Glen was squirming.

It was only then when Derek snapped the leather cock ring into place.

“No,” Glen heard himself moan but Derek’s tongue was already flicking his nipples again. “You said no punishments.”

“Why do you look on pleasure as a punishment?” Derek asked, and Glen couldn’t answer that at all.

The clamps went on each nipple—Glen’s body broke out in a fine sheen of sweat.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes.”

“That’s yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.” Glen’s whole body vibrated from the complete lack of control. It was all sensation—he could feel his skin prickle from the air, and he wanted to float away with Derek right now.

Glen wanted to beg, but he forced himself not to. His body was strung tight and not just because of the expert bindings. Derek’s face was flushed with sex…lust… And the feeling of being wanted—really wanted—was like a drug Glen wanted more of.

Derek’s hand ran along the crack of his ass. He entered Glen with a lubed finger to loosen him—and then progressed quickly to two and then three—stood behind him, nipping his shoulder. Murmured, “Could leave you here like this. Or maybe we could do this at the club—put you on display.”

He wasn’t able to do much more than buck his ass into Derek’s hand, but Derek put a stop to that with an arm wrapped around his chest. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and the pleasure built to a nearly unbearable level.

And when Derek continued talking, he knew he was close to losing it.

“After we’re done, I think I’m going to shave you…and then everyone will know you’re mine. And they definitely will when I lock you in a cock cage.”

The groan was a keening wail that continued as Derek drove his cock inside him, unlocking the cock ring as he did so. And Glen let himself be taken. Claimed. Filled to his limits. And then taken past them, further than he’d thought possible.

Ridden. Fucked, and allowed to love it.

“More,” was all he could say, and Derek gave him everything he could handle. His body was a slave to Derek’s hands, his mouth, his whims for the night. A blur of incredible sensation.

And again, the feeling of wanting to hold Derek while he came hit him. Just picturing himself doing that threw him over the edge. The intensity of the orgasm increased as Derek released the nipple clamps, barely aware of how loudly he was yelling—and not at all sure what he was actually saying.

It didn’t matter. All that did was Derek.

At some point, Derek released his arms and carried him to the bed, removed the spreader bar but chained him facedown so he could fuck him again. Glen just swam in a sea of warm contentment.

Glen turned his head for a moment to look at him, a contented glow on his cheeks.

“Dirty little boy,” he murmured, and Glen nodded, a gleam in his eye, and Derek felt the emotion hit him like a sharp punch he’d been on the receiving end of in boot camp. This time, the pain was far more worth it.

He’d fallen in goddamned love fast and hard, and had probably started the second he’d seen Glen come into the bar. Wanted him with his heart and soul.

For Glen, Derek realized, it wasn’t about the pain. In his job, he liked to fly out of control but during sex, he liked to be in one place, held still and comforted.

He was in love with the man. And right now, he didn’t give a shit about anything else. Not with Glen tied and spread facedown on the bed, ass open and ready for anything Derek wanted to do to him.

And what Derek wanted was the boy’s arms wrapped around him, but he took him this way instead, loving the way Glen responded to the fucking. He pumped into Glen and they came within seconds of each other.

They cleaned up, showered off with Derek basically holding Glen up under the spray. The boy was relaxed and happy, and sleepy. When he brought him back to bed, he pulled off the blanket they’d dirtied and slipped into clean sheets.

Glen was back against the pillows, his eyes heavy, a small smile of contentment on his mouth. Derek kissed him, drawing him in so the boy could taste himself. “Sleep now, beautiful boy.”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“I don’t have work either,” he told Glen.

“Good—that leaves you time for more shopping,” Glen teased.

“I’m all done, wiseass.” He rolled on his back and watched the snow fall outside his bedroom window. Glen’s legs were still trembling and Derek turned back to rub them as Glen moaned quietly. Contentedly.

“You all right or do you need more?”

Glen snorted. “Think I’m all right. For now.”

Derek pulled him closer, stroked a hand down his back. “Listen, if you’re not working…you can come home with me for Christmas.”

Glen stared up at him like he had a million heads. Derek cleared his throat and started again, feeling like a nervous kid inviting a new friend to a birthday party. “I’d like my mom to meet you—it’ll just be for a few days.”

“I, ah…” Glen shifted. “I probably have to work.”

He was lying, but Derek let it go. “Okay. Well, if things change, feel free to come home with me, all right?”

Glen pulled away from him, sat on the edge of the bed and didn’t look at Derek when he said, “They won’t. Besides, I don’t celebrate it anymore—I told you that.”

“So you didn’t spend Christmas with John?” he couldn’t help but ask. At his words, Glen was up, looking for his clothes on the floor, pulling them on, and Derek didn’t try to stop him. Knew he couldn’t.

“Sometimes I was there on Christmas, but we didn’t sit down and open presents or anything. He never pressured me about it.” Glen’s last words stung a little, something of an accusation.

“Sometimes I’m afraid I can’t live up to him.”

“I’m not asking you to be John. I’m not looking for a replacement. If I’d come back into the bar earlier than this, I would’ve been. Now, I’m looking for a Dom who gets me. Who doesn’t expect to be served. Who wants me for me, not just because I was John’s sub.” Glen paused. “By the way, just so you know, you lived up to him just fine.”

With that, the boy left, the door swinging behind him.

Chapter Seven

Glen had been away a week on this last mission, had gotten called in the night he’d stormed out of Derek’s house, which he thought was pretty damned serendipitous.

Now, it was nearly Christmas and he was home earlier than he’d thought. When he was finally debriefed, he dragged his ass home.

It had been a rough one. Everyone was hurt in some form or another. He’d helped save one of the guys, flown through some serious fire.

It didn’t hit him until he was alone. It started with the chills and he wondered if it was a side effect of the shit they injected him with when he returned. The next thing he knew, it was ten hours later and he’d passed out on the couch, woke up sweating.

He called the doc, who confirmed Glen wasn’t the only one who’d gotten sick. That didn’t make him feel particularly better, but he was at least glad he’d stocked his kitchen with basics that wouldn’t spoil before he left at the beginning of the month. Not that he felt like eating, but he knew he needed something in his stomach.

Which he promptly threw up. Fuck.

Derek was going home for Christmas. For all he knew, he was already there. Or preparing. Or shopping or some shit.

He didn’t know why all of that made him so pissed, but it did. Which was why he didn’t call the man. At least not right away.

You should call him.

But what would that mean? Sure, Derek was always there for him where sex was concerned, but this was a whole other level. Glen didn’t like admitting vulnerability outside of sex because doing it while being tied down was enough.

In the end, he wrestled with it for another half a day before texting him. Left the ball in Derek’s court.

Derek called him immediately. “Did you just get in?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he demanded and Glen paused before admitting, “Think I’m sick.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you tell me what I have to do,” Derek said. “How long have you been sick and alone?”

“I thought…” Damn, he was close to a panic attack. He’d fucked up and all he could do was close his eyes, the phone still pressed to his ear. “I thought…”

“You weren’t thinking. I’ll be right over.”

When he got Glen’s text, Derek’s evening had definitely looked up. After he’d spoken to the boy, he was angry as hell but had packed a bag and gotten into his car immediately. For Glen—for any guy—to admit he was sick meant he was pretty close to death’s door.

But the fact that he’d waited so long to call… Well, the trust between them definitely needed further work.

He knocked for ten minutes, getting progressively more worried, until he heard the lock move and Glen, wrapped in a blanket, opened the door.