Safe in His Arms (26 page)

never been an issue before—why bother to get a degree when the world had been

presented to him on a silver platter? But things were different now, and Hank was

coming around to the idea that if he wanted to move up in the world, he needed to set

his sights higher than being promoted to pit manager at an oil change garage.

For the first time in his life, Hank felt good about himself. He‘d come to

understand, really understand on a gut level, that the life he‘d been living before had

been empty, despite the trappings of wealth. The sexual games he‘d played, using and

discarding men as if they were toys with which he soon grew bored, made him

ashamed now. He especially regretted how he‘d treated Reese, and by extension, Jeff,

but he took solace in how happy the two of them were together.

He understood now, watching how Russell lived his life, and slowly learning to do

the same, that the worth of a man is not based on the money he possesses or the power

he wields, but on how he treats others and himself. What really matters are passions of

his heart, his dreams, the things he longs for, the fears he has overcome.

The door to the loft opened and Russell‘s big, rumbling voice cut across Hank‘s

thoughts. ―Hey, what‘re you doing, lazy bones? Come help us get the truck loaded.‖

Stepping up behind Hank, Russell delivered a sound but playful swat across Hank‘s

jeans-clad ass.

Hank turned ―Yes, Boss Bear,‖ he said, rubbing his ass.

Russell laughed, a full-throated rich sound, pulsing with life as he pulled Hank into

his arms. They kissed briefly. Hank would have liked to linger, but Russell was wound

up like a tightly coiled spring, eager for their showing at the festival.

Their booth was one of dozens set up on long tables in a huge convention center,

and all three of them were kept busy handing out beer samples in one-ounce plastic

cups to the huge crowd of folks moving steadily down the line. Hank never knew there

were so many kinds of beer—from pumpkin to vanilla cream to jalapeño, along with

any number of more traditional brews.

When Hank looked up from serving, he saw two older men, both wearing jackets

and bowties, beaming at them. ―Mr. Smith,‖ Hank said, smiling in recognition. It was

one of Russell‘s clients, who had also become a friend. He had invited Russell and Hank

to dinner one evening, eager to introduce his new ―gentleman friend,‖ who was with

him now.

―James,‖ the man replied. ―I‘ve told you, call me James. And you remember

Gerard?‖

Russell, who was talking to some folks at the end of the table, saw James and

Gerard and came over, extending his hand. ―Hey there. I‘m glad you could make it.‖

―Wouldn‘t miss it,‖ James said. ―Gerard here is a real beer enthusiast. He‘s trying to

get me to try the peanut butter ale, but I draw the line at blueberry.‖

Russell‘s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. ―Excuse me a moment,‖ he said, pulling

out the phone and regarding the screen. ―It‘s Stuart. He and Vince were supposed to be

here by now. I hope their plane hasn‘t been delayed.‖

Hank knew how excited Russell was that his mentors from the vineyard in

California had decided to come out for the Beer Fest. Russell, now a full partner in

LoDo Brewery, named for Denver‘s trendy Lower Downtown area, was eager and

proud to share his success with his old friends.

―Oh my god. No.‖ Hank turned sharply at Russell‘s words, which were laced with

anguished disbelief. Russell had gone pale and he was clutching the cell phone. ―Yes,

yes of course. I‘ll be there right away, Stuart. Right away.‖

―What is it?‖ Hank had never seen Russell look so upset. ―What‘s happened?‖

Russell turned his stricken face to Hank. ―It‘s Vince. They‘ve been in a car accident.

They flew in this morning and rented a car. Vince was driving. He lost control

somehow and they crashed into a guardrail on the freeway. Vince was knocked

unconscious. Stuart says they think his neck might be broken.‖

Hank stared at his lover, horrified. Nolan approached the group. ―What is it?‖ he

asked, concern in his voice. ―What‘s going on?‖

―It‘s Vince. Stuart and he were on their way from the airport for the festival. They

got into a car accident. I have to get to the hospital.‖ Russell spoke calmly, but Hank

could feel the tension and worry radiating from him.

Russell surveyed the line of people still traipsing past their booth. ―I hate to leave

you alone with all this, Nolan.‖

Hank had never heard Russell sound so anxious. He knew he needed to do

something, but he didn‘t know what. James Smith, who had been hovering nearby,

poked Hank in the ribs. ―You‘re up, Hank,‖ he said in a voice only Hank could hear.

―This is what partners do. You need to step up and drive Russell to the hospital. Got

it?‖

Hank nodded, relieved to have a plan of action. Of course he would drive Russell to

the hospital. James turned to Nolan and Russell, speaking in a loud voice. ―Hank will

take Russell to the hospital. Gerard and I will be glad to help hand out the samples

while they‘re gone. Wouldn‘t we, Gerard?‖

The other man beamed. ―You betcha.‖

Nolan nodded. ―You go, Russ,‖ Nolan said. ―We‘ll be fine here.‖

Hank reached for Russell, squeezing his shoulder, hoping the strength he felt

would somehow be transmitted to Russell through his touch. Russell leaned into him,

flashing him a grateful smile.

Warmed, Hank said, ―Let‘s go. Stuart needs you.‖

~*~

Vince had been admitted to the critical care unit. He‘d suffered some internal

bleeding and a concussion, but thank goodness his neck hadn‘t been broken and he was

expected to make a full recovery. Russell had stayed with Stuart while they waited for

the doctor to come out and tell them what was going on, holding his hand and talking

softly about old times.

At first Hank had felt excluded, shut out by the shared grief of old friends, by the

life Russell had led before he‘d met Hank. Jealousy threatened to push its way past his

desire to be a supportive partner. But that useless emotion had been supplanted by his

realization that Russell didn‘t need one more person to take care of—he needed Hank to

be
his
rock for a change.

So he assured Russell he would return to the festival and help Nolan wind down

and pack up. Later he returned to the hospital, armed with sandwiches and a thermos

of hot coffee. The doctor finally came out to tell them the internal bleeding had stopped

and Vince was conscious but resting. He told them they should come back in the

morning if they wanted to visit him, and Russell finally convinced Stuart to come back

to their place to get some rest.

In the days that followed, when Hank wasn‘t working, he did his best to make

himself useful. If Russell wasn‘t available, he drove Stuart to and from the hospital. He

cleaned the loft and did the laundry and grocery shopping. He massaged Russell‘s

shoulders and listened to Stuart and Russell reminisce about the life Russell had led in

California before he‘d moved back to Denver.

Hank was working harder than he ever had, both physically and emotionally, but

instead of being drained by it, he felt good. For the first time in his life, he was there for

someone, not for what he could get out of it, but because it was the right thing to do.

More than that, he wanted to do it.

Vince was discharged after five days, and Russell and Hank drove the couple back

to the airport in the secondhand car Hank had recently bought with money he‘d earned.

On the ride back to their loft, Russell turned to Hank. ―Thank you, Hank.‖

―For what?‖ Hank asked, his eyes on the road.

―For doing what friends do. What partners do. You were there for me. That means a

lot.‖

Hank reached for Russell‘s thigh, squeezing it as happiness moved through him

like warm, welcome sunlight poking into the last corners of any lingering darkness.

―Thank you for letting me.‖

~*~

Russell shook his head, his expression skeptical. ―I don‘t know, Hank. The cane‘s

not for everyone.‖ He was lying in their bed amidst the rumpled sheets after an

extended bout of lovemaking, leaning up on one elbow as he watched Hank with an

amused smile.

Hank had rolled from the bed, drawn, as he often was, by the large canvas duffel

bag in which Russell kept toys for his clients who enjoyed BDSM play. From amidst the

floggers, cuffs, clamps, chain and rope, Hank had extracted the long cane, turning it

over in his hands.

He stroked the thin, polished rod of rattan and gripped the black suede handle. He

turned to Russell with resolve. ―I‘m ready for more, Russ. I want to experience more

than just the spanking and bondage.‖

Hank didn‘t fully understand why or how he‘d come to crave what Russell called

erotic pain, but he knew he loved it. The spankings were as sexual to him now as any

direct stroking of his cock. He wanted all Russell could give, the harder the better, until

he lost himself in the sensation, until it literally was no longer pain, but something far

more powerful, something that lifted him completely out of himself in a way he‘d tried

to explain, but could not.

Russell had told him he didn‘t have to try. It was enough to experience it. ―It‘s

about trust,‖ Russell said. ―The more we trust each other, the more intense this kind of

experience can be.‖

Hank flicked his wrist, making the cane arc and bend through the air with a slicing

whoosh. A rush of desire whispered through him. The week before, they‘d watched a

short video together that a client had given Russell. Hank had secretly watched it

several more times when Russell wasn‘t around, and he‘d become obsessed with

experiencing the cane firsthand.

In the video, a man had been bound by his wrists to a clothing rack in a hotel room.

He was standing naked, his back to the camera, while a second man used a cane very

much like the one Hank now held in his hands to cover the man‘s ass and thighs in a

series of raised welts.

At first Hank had been shocked by the harsh intensity of the video, but at the same

time, he couldn‘t deny the powerful erection watching it gave him. His hard-on was

matched by the one the guy receiving the cane sported. He was clearly enjoying what

was being done to him, his moans echoing as much pleasure as suffering. The scene

culminated with the man‘s ejaculation at a stern but loving command from his

dominant partner.

―Are you that intense with your clients who like the cane? Do you mark them like

that?‖ he‘d asked Russell as they watched.

―This guy is obviously pretty seasoned with the cane and can take a lot of pain,‖

Russell replied. ―I prefer to work them up slowly, getting the skin warmed and used to

the feel of the cane. But yeah, I‘ve definitely left marks. That‘s the general idea of the

cane. It‘s not a play toy. You have to know what you‘re doing or you could cut the skin

pretty easily.‖

Now Hank held out his hands, palms up, the cane balanced on them. ―Please,

Russell,‖ he said with quiet earnestness. ―If it‘s not right for me, we‘ll both know it. But

let me try. I want to feel the cane. I want you to mark me.‖

Russell regarded him, his expression serious, weighing Hank‘s words carefully.

Slowly he nodded and rose from the bed. Moving toward Hank, he took the cane from

his hands.

Hank stood, his heart beating fast, suddenly afraid of what he‘d asked for, as the

image of the man in the video flashed before him, sweating, writhing and crying out as

the cane left its fiery marks.

Yet beneath the fear was a solid certainty that Russell would take him only as far as

he was ready to go. Russell would listen to his body and his cues, as he always had

before. Hank found his skin was actually tingling in anticipation of the cane‘s cruel kiss.

―You‘re ready to fly higher, is that right, lover?‖ Russell‘s voice was a sensual purr.

He drew the cane down Hank‘s bare chest, moving downward toward his groin.

Hank‘s cock perked to attention, even while he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise

as the cane moved closer.

Russell tapped very lightly at the head of Hank‘s cock with the cane, drawing the

smallest gasp from Hank‘s lips. ―I asked a question, Hank. You sure you want to

experience the cane?‖

―Yes,‖ Hank whispered, his eyes moving from the cane in Russell‘s hand up to his

kind, rugged face. He could see the lust in Russell‘s expression and it thrilled him to

think Russell wanted this too. He glanced down at Russell‘s cock, getting additional

confirmation as he noted with satisfaction Russell‘s rising erection.

He glanced around the bare room, wondering where he should stand. But Russell

said, ―I want you to lie down for this. It‘ll be easier for you that way. I‘m going to