4-Bound By Danger (17 page)

And it could’ve been him. Things had gone from celebratory to horrible in the space of a week, and there was a hole within the teams that would be impossible to fill. New SEALs would come in, but they wouldn’t be the same.

The shower door opened, and Clint was there, with way too much pity in his eyes for Jace to handle.

“Thanks for letting me know you were alive,” were the first words out of his mouth.

Fuck. He’d just assumed Clint would know. “Sorry,” he managed before the man dragged him from under the now-cold spray and wrapped him in a towel.

The whiskey hadn’t done enough damage, in Jace’s estimation, since he was still able to think and reason, and he hated that. Hated the betrayed look that fought for space in Clint’s expression more. “You don’t have to stay.”

“The hell I don’t.” Clint’s voice was low, although that didn’t mean he wasn’t angry. But Jace was—really fucking angry at everyone and everything, and he stumbled past Clint and got into bed, still damp. Clint had confiscated his bottle, but the bed and his life were already spinning.

Clint watched Jace shove himself under the covers. “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it—but you should.”

“Now you’re my shrink?” Jace turned his back to Clint and pulled the blanket over him like they were complete fucking strangers, and Clint fought the urge to kick the shit out of him and make him talk.

Because Clint would be the same exact way were he in Jace’s position. And he had been, literally, so many times during Delta especially, when he worked with a close-knit team and everyone knew everyone and every damned thing, every single death was so personal it burned like hot metal in his mouth. It was when every mission began to feel like revenge that he knew it was time to get out.

Revenge was never good for the person seeking it. In the end, it always came back to bite you on the ass.

Jace hadn’t moved. Wasn’t sleeping and didn’t even have the nerve to pretend he was. So Clint took his shoulder and pushed him to his back.

Jace stared up at him and said, “What?” and then rolled his eyes.

“Don’t make me pull this out of you.”

“Leave it alone. Christ, this is part of why I didn’t call. You don’t have to put me back together, dammit—that’s not your responsibility.”

“And if I make it mine?”

“It’s not.”

“Stubborn son of a bitch.” Clint pinned him to the bed, enjoyed watching him struggle under his grasp. “I want to be here for all of it. That’s why I came to ’Stan for you. That’s why I’m here.”

“To make me talk about things better left unsaid.”

“Trust me, they’re not.” Clint kept a hand wound around Jace’s wrists even as he reached for the handcuffs.

Jace struggled, but his dick hardened against Clint’s. “Just stop talking and fuck me, okay? That’s what we do well.”

“I told you, that’s not why I’m here. Not why I come to you.”

“Then what’s all this about?” Jace was furious now, jerking his wrists apart like he could break the cuffs, and if Clint gave him any amount of time, drunk or not, Jace would get out of them.

Instead, he pulled the naked man forward, forcing him to come to a rest over his knees.

“Clint—don’t.”

“Afraid you won’t like it? Or are you afraid you will?”

Jace answered by trying to buck away, which was impossible. And Clint knew this could provide the best release possible for him, even though he’d fight it all the way.

He ran a hand over the boy’s bare ass, which was smooth and begged to be reddened. The Dom in him reared his head, and he ran a cool hand over the warm flesh, heard Jace begin to whimper his plea, as if that might get him off the hook.

It made Clint hard to hear it, though, the soft words that Jace muttered. He continued to rub, letting the boy think he might possibly be relenting.

He might not Dom on a regular basis any longer, but he was damned good at it—and he planned on letting Jace get the benefits of his expertise tonight. Because this would be nothing like the first time.

Chapter Twenty-One

Clint was rubbing his ass, and Jace was pretty sure he’d never felt—or been—more vulnerable in his entire life. It was completely different from the first time, because then Jace had come to him willingly. Had been in a hell of a good state of mind.

How he’d gotten into this position, he still wasn’t sure, but he was sure this wasn’t Clint’s first time restraining someone to do this. It made him almost want to go through with it in order to wipe away memories of other men across Clint’s lap, to blow them out of the water, to make Clint want no one but him.

On the other hand, the vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to or liked in the least bit. His emotions were too damned close to the surface—one stroke and he knew he’d be breaking apart. He wasn’t naive, knew what Clint was doing even though he’d never thought he’d be in this position.

“You’ve done this a lot.”

“You want to talk about the Dom thing again?”

“Yeah,
talk
being the operative word.”

“Sorry, we’re past that,” Clint told him. “You can talk. I’ll be doing other things.”

“I’m not your fucking sub.”

“Did you want to be?” Clint asked mildly. “You’re jealous of the other men who’ve been stretched across my lap, begging for my hand.”

Jace gritted his teeth and tried for escape one last time. “Clint, I’ll talk to you, okay? Just let me up.”

“Sure, baby.” Clint’s voice was rough with lust as his hand rubbed the crack of Jace’s ass. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yes.”

“This is what I want.” Clint’s hand smacked down hard on his ass before Jace had a chance to draw his next breath, and it caught in his throat as his body froze. Clint took advantage of his stillness to rain several more slaps of fire on his ass, and it was then Jace began to struggle. His cock was dripping and his hips rocked, looking for relief, but the part of his brain that was trying to keep it all under wraps knew it would all come out with the release. And so he fought it with everything he had, but it was no use—Clint was too good. Too strong.

Jace wasn’t sure if he hated or loved the man and figured the truth was probably a little bit of both.

Every time he moved, the urge to come got stronger, but he knew what the fallout would be. He bucked, and somehow it only cemented Clint’s position of strength over him.

He would need to surrender, and it should be easy to put everything into the man’s more-than-competent hands. But nothing in his life had been, and maybe he didn’t believe it should start now.

Everything swirled inside his mind, and then, without warning, it came to a head as Clint delivered a series of quick, intense slaps, stopped and told him, “I think you need daily spankings to keep you level, and I’ll bend you over my knee every single time I see you.” At those words, Jace exploded, climaxed with the force of multiple orgasms—a first—as his body tensed with complete and utter pleasure.

The second release immediately followed, a gut-wrenching sob that stole his breath as he finally gave in.

Jace’s surrender broke Clint’s heart and made him happy at the same time. He righted the boy, undid his cuffs and held him in his lap, their come still on their stomachs and chests, both sweating, and Jace probably didn’t realize Clint had shed a few tears of his own during the ordeal.

But this was about Jace and the loss of his teammates, the overpowering feeling of helplessness, and Clint knew it all too well.

“I would take it all away if I could,” Clint told him.

“I’d take you up on that,” Jace mumbled. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but most importantly, his body and mind had finally relaxed. “Why?”

“Why what?’

“Why do I need this?”

Clint stroked a hand across his cheek. “Because you like it. Because it helps. Who the hell cares about why? There’s nothing wrong with needing it at all. Nothing. I never want you to feel bad about wanting things rough. Or sweet. Or upside-fucking-down.”

Jace’s response was a small smile and the press of a kiss to the front of Clint’s neck, right into the dip where his neck met collarbone. And just that small touch was enough to get Clint hard.

Jace knew it, because he kissed his way down Clint’s chest as Clint rolled to his back and let Jace give him a blowjob that made his head nearly blow off.

An hour later, Jace had allowed Clint to clean them both up and order dinner, and they tucked into the couch with cartons of Chinese food as Jace alternately ate and slept.

Finally, around five p.m., he was alert, polished off whatever food was left and looked for more.

Yes, he was better. Just in time for Clint to leave.

“What time do you go?” Jace asked, startling him.

“Mind reader?”

“You’ve got that look.”

Clint knew it—he’d been detaching already, even with Jace in his arms, and he stopped that and brought himself back to the present and the next hours he did have with Jace.

The next job was in Yemen, a mission that promised at least two months of deep, underground undercover with an intricate set of plans that could easily get him killed. He’d already memorized them, gone over fifty different options for E & E, and he still felt like he hadn’t planned enough.

When he came out of his CIA-induced reverie, Jace was watching him with a small smile.

“Sorry.”

“You’ve got to do what keeps you safe. That’s all I want.”

“Really? The only thing?” he teased as he rubbed Jace’s ass, and Jace blushed and winced at the same time. “Come here, baby, I’ve got plenty of time for more.”

Jace didn’t hesitate, climbed into his lap and kissed him, tasting like lo mein and beer and man, and Clint knew he’d remember that taste forever. Wanted to.

But first, Clint needed Jace to talk about what he was dealing with. And so he pulled back and he waited, and finally Jace mock-sighed and relented.

“I’m sure you know what happened,” he muttered, and it was true. Clint had spoken to Rex earlier.

“I know you saved a lot of people on this trip, despite how it ended.”

“You’re not going to give me the survivor’s guilt, are you?”

“Do I need to?” Jace shook his head, and Clint pulled him close and continued, “On top of whatever else you’re feeling, you should be feeling grateful.”

“For what?”

“That you can still feel. You care. The second you lose that, you’ve lost everything.”

Jace propped himself up. “That’s not you.”

“I’ve always defined myself by my job. It’s what I’m built for, Jace. What I’m good at.”

“You’re more than that.”

“For you, I want to be. If you hadn’t rescued me that night…” he started. “Dammit, Jace, you really rescued me. And I’m not talking about from bullets. If I’d done that job, I didn’t know if I’d have been able to extricate myself. I was getting pulled under…you stopped me from losing myself. You made me feel, and I almost hated you for it.”

“You have a funny way of showing hate,” Jace said, his voice hoarse.

“You slayed me.”

“I can’t be sorry for that.”

“I don’t want you to be. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough for you, but for the first time in my life, I love enough to want to try. You pulled me back off the ledge. And that’s why I’ll track you down every time. You’re too important to lose.”

Jace didn’t know what to say to that, and there wasn’t anything to say. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the bigger man and held him for a change. Clint pushed his cheek against Jace’s shoulder, sinking into the embrace without protest.

Maybe it was time for Jace to stop protesting about everything. Giving in to Clint was so much easier, and for sure, satisfying.

The one thing standing in the way nagged at Jace, and he couldn’t push it down. But he didn’t let go of Clint. “It’s too much sometimes. I don’t know if I can do it, Clint. I don’t know—but then I do it and it’s okay. But it’s like climbing a fucking mountain every single morning of my life.”

“I know, baby boy. I really do.” Clint massaged the back of Jace’s neck, and Jace groaned his appreciation.

“It doesn’t get easier.”

“Never.”

“Shit,” Jace muttered, bent his head forward, and they remained like that for a while, until Clint made him lie facedown on the bed and massaged his back, put cream on his aching ass. And still his mind wasn’t calmed completely, but he knew that he’d be able to sleep again, at least.

“I guess I need to thank you.”

“You just need to call me—that’s all,” Clint told him. “You have to let me in.”

“I’m doing that, Clint. You don’t fucking realize—”

“I do.” He ran his hands through Jace’s hair to get it off his face and then broached the subject they’d left off on four months earlier. “Listen, please, you’ve got enough shit with your job. You don’t need this club—”

“I have to help Kenny,” Jace said wearily, the admission sliding out before he could help it. “I mean, I can’t let him be alone.”