Bound for Keeps (Men of Honor) (15 page)

When the fingers came out, he knew what would replace them. Felt Keith’s cock probe his ass, and he tensed but Keith was gentle, moved slowly. Babied the fuck out of him, which, for some strange reason, he resented.

But you don’t mind being called baby boy.

Shane didn’t appear to need seduction, although it appeared that his entire stay had been one long seduction.

Keith settled comfortably between his legs. The man under him was holding back, afraid of hurting Keith, maybe, which was understandable. Men like him weren’t used to be around others who could give as good as they got. Which meant his story about Kyle training him had been utter and complete bullshit. Shane was coiled tight, unwilling to move for fear of bucking Keith off.

“You can move, Shane. Come on,” he urged, but all Shane did was push himself back to his knees and elbows. It was the best position, given the rib fractures, but Keith wanted him on his back, wanted to watch his face when he came.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and he wasn’t giving up any opportunity with this naked man.

“Come on, old man—what’s the holdup?” Shane asked and grunted when Keith pushed his cock halfway inside the tight channel, holding one of Shane’s hips, the other on the man’s shoulder to gain further purchase.

Shane pushed back against him. Groaned when Keith met the thrust and slid in balls-deep and immediately started to pump his hips, because it felt that good.

Shane agreed, if the way his hands gripped the sheets was any indication. There were no protests from his mouth, just
fuck
and
more
and Keith’s name, and Keith did fuck him more, harder, the bed rattling under them, pillows falling, pictures on the wall above the bed threatening to join them, reminding Keith why he and Reed and Bobby never fucked in this room.

He pulled Shane’s back up against his chest, not wanting the man to get beaned in the head from falling frames, took advantage of him by holding both hips firm and pistoning against him. Shane was jacking himself off, and he was so close, if the sounds he made were any indication.

Just because Shane resented the tenderness didn’t mean he didn’t fucking love it when Keith worked his cock inside of him, until Keith’s balls slapped his ass on the final push.

And then Keith was fucking him, the gentleness gone, the mattress moving under the weight of both men and finally—finally—his goddamned mind quieted and all that was left was Keith’s cock inside of him.

“Who owns you, baby boy?” Keith asked again, and Shane whispered, “You do. You both do.”

Keith’s hand rewarded him with a sharp slap to his ass, followed immediately by a soothing rub. “That’s the way you want it.”

“How do you want it?” Shane couldn’t help but ask.

“Just the way you said.”

Shane moaned at his words, thinking maybe, just maybe, it could all work and holy hell, Keith was fucking him in earnest now, pistoning his hips, taking Shane so fast it was a constant assault on his prostate, and it had never been this good getting fucked.

But the best part was, he was getting Shane ready to be fucked by Reed. And it might not happen tonight or this week, but Keith was breaking him in. Getting him ready.

He could handle it. But the thing was, he didn’t know if he wanted to. Because a part of him ached to bend Keith over and give as good as he’d gotten.

“Come for me, baby boy,” Keith growled, and Shane dropped his head back with a groan of surrender. He’d been forced to go to a place he’d never known existed.

How long had he been fooling himself?

There were cigarette burns on Shane’s body. Keith recognized them immediately, because he’d seen enough kids wearing the same scars that lasted a lifetime.

“He only got me once,” Shane said. Keith hadn’t realized he’d been running his finger across the twin marks as they lay on the rug in front of the fire where Keith had led him after they’d fucked their brains out—literally, it seemed at some point—on the table. “The next time he tried, I was ready. Slammed his hand with a baseball bat and broke his wrist.”

“Bet you didn’t stay there long.”

Shane looked at him with a hint of guilt for the early lie he’d told about his parents. “I wasn’t going to, anyway. None of those places are ever permanent and everyone knows it. They just tell you to be good because that’ll get you adopted so they don’t have to find you a new home after you fuck up and get kicked out.” Shane’s chin jutted, but Keith saw the boy behind the man at that moment. The pain reflected there, but hell, that’s what made him who he was.

“I get that.”

“Do you?”

“More than you realize,” Keith said, but Shane left it at that. Probably because he didn’t want to discuss it further himself. Most walks down memory lane ended badly.

But tonight hadn’t. It felt so damned right. Despite Keith’s suspicions, despite everything, tonight with Shane had pushed the walls he’d tried to hold up more than three quarters of the way down.

Shane’s hand moved to tweak Keith’s nipple.

“That all you got?” Keith asked.

“No, I have a lot more.” He looked up at Keith. “When I was sixteen, I started sneaking into a club about an hour from where I lived. In the big city. They took pity on me—a kid from the sticks who knew he was gay and knew he liked to dominate. Who the hell else was gong to help me, you know?” He smiled at the memory. “The guy who owned and ran the place was named Chief. A big bear of a leather daddy. He was a good mentor. Most of the time, I was scared to death. I’m sure they all saw it, but they were surprisingly kind. Maybe I reminded them of them, you know?”

“You probably did,” Keith told him.

“They didn’t touch me until I turned eighteen. I just got to watch and listen. It was like, porn, up close and personal.” But it had been more than that, because for sure, he watched relationships grow between men. Learned that emotions grew through sex and that it was okay to want to tie men up and fuck them. That it didn’t make him sick or twisted…and that it did make him twisted in a good way. “I tried everything. Top, bottom and every flavor in between. I was like a sponge, wanted to soak it all up,” Shane admitted.

“I can see that now,” Keith told him. “It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

And that was true—Shane had been quiet. Focused. He knew what he wanted. Knew he was going into a program that was notoriously homophobic—although once inside, he realized those claims were really unjustified in most cases. He just didn’t talk about his personal life in terms of male or female, and no one pushed or made a big deal out of anything.

But in the back rooms of that club, he’d let himself be tied down, spanked and whipped, and he’d done things that pushed him uncomfortably beyond his limits. But at least he’d learned what those were, Chief told him. Safe, sane, consensual became the most important words in his vocabulary, and with the help of several Doms he also realized that, while he did like the top and certain aspects of domination, he wasn’t looking for any kind of full-time gig.

But the dominant part of him, well, there was no controlling that. For him, the best part of sex was watching his partner give their submission—it was a goddamned gift. And all he wanted to do was bring pleasure to whoever gave him that gift.

Keith was watching him with that look somewhere between serious and amused when he talked about the clubs and the other stuff. “Bobby spent time in the leather clubs back in the day. Once we got together, not so much. We couldn’t risk it, and then, once we could, we were here and happy. And then Reed came along.”

“So, ah, you and Bobby and Reed worked because of your preferences?”

Keith gave him a small smile. “Nothing in the sexual arena’s that black or white—shouldn’t be, anyway, but yeah, I guess that’s a good way to put it. It’s not like we grew up looking for a threesome, but when we found it, we just knew it was right.”

“So Reed…he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with me, then?”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not the dynamic you had before.”

“I’d say it was pretty damned close,” Keith said and then everything clicked and the world opened up to Shane. “We all switched it up when we needed to, but for the most part, yeah.”

“But what about when it was just you and Bobby?”

“We made it work. You get something different out of each experience. Something imperative. And it helps Reed. Besides, you can’t be a good top until you’d spent some time on the bottom.”

That was true. Maybe Shane needed to spend more time there, for Reed’s sake. And Keith’s as well.

Chapter Sixteen

Reed had been fine on the phone, but there had been enough of a hint in his tone to let Keith know what he’d be dealing with when he returned. Reed was holding it together, and he’d need to lose it when he came back to Keith. It wasn’t anything new, and the familiarity itself was almost as much of a comfort to Keith as seeing his lover walk through the door was.

He led the man into their bedroom quietly. Sat him on the edge of the bed, took his bag away and locked it upstairs. Stripped him down halfway and then began to wipe the paint off Reed’s face, watching his lover slowly come back to him as he did. This uncovering was part of the ritual for both of them. Reed once said that he couldn’t bear to wipe it off himself—that he could do it only through Keith’s eyes at first.

And so Keith indulged him. But this time, something was different. Proph said the job was done well, even in the face of unexpected ambush. Neither surprised Keith—Reed was as good at his job if not better than when he was official Delta and ambushes were more expected than not.

Still, Reed was on guard. His muscles tensed when they should’ve begun to relax. Something had triggered an old reaction in his lover.

“Talk to me, baby,” he crooned, and a muscle in Reed’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t say a word. “Come back to me. I need you.”

With that, something changed in Reed’s breathing pattern. His eyes blinked like he was waking up from a long dream. “That’s it. You’re good, baby.”

“You’ve got me,” Reed whispered. “I know.”

“Welcome home, soldier. How about a hot bath.”

Reed nodded. “Gonna shut my eyes for a few minutes while you run the water.”

Keith wanted to tell him not to do that, probably should’ve picked him up and fucked him, anything to keep him awake. But he didn’t, because Reed looked so trusting and he didn’t want to take away the man’s faith in himself. He went into the bathroom and ran the tub, giving Reed some time to fall into the deep sleep he needed.

He shut the water off and waited, listening to the silence, Reed’s deep breathing and he convinced himself that everything would be okay.

He was proven wrong within the next fifteen seconds.

Shane heard the screams and at first, thought it was him. He’d fallen asleep on the couch watching a movie and when he looked at the door, he noted that Reed’s boots and bag were there.

Reed was screaming. Was he hurt? Why hadn’t Keith woken him up?

He covered the area between the living room and bedroom in seconds, found Keith trying to hold a struggling Reed down on the bed.

There was no blood and he didn’t appear to be injured.

“What can I do?” he asked, and Keith turned, his expression unreadable.

“Just help me hold him down and be careful. He’s strong coming out of these dreams.”

Shane moved fast, helped Keith immobilize the struggling man. Reed was flailing, scratching and clawing and bucking every touch and what the hell had happened to make him dream like this? Finally, he let Keith deal with his upper body and he managed to immobilize the man’s legs, at least long enough for Keith to inject him with something.

Within five minutes, Reed’s fighting was less. Although he didn’t pass out completely, he seemed to almost come to and realize where he was. Said, “Ah, fuck,” a few times and closed his eyes, putting his forearm over them like he didn’t want to deal with any of it.

“I only sedate him if things get really bad,” Keith said as he motioned for Shane to let go of Reed’s legs. He did and Reed’s arm moved away from his eyes, resting on his forehead as he seemed to surrender himself to the drug. “It’s short-acting. He’ll wake up quickly. But he’ll hurt himself if I let him stay in the nightmare.”

Shane could only imagine. “How often does that happen?”

“Couple times a year. Over the past several weeks, it’s been worse.”

The math was easy enough to do…all since Shane had been there.

“Not your fault,” Keith said.

“But it’s happening because of me, still.” Shane reached out and stroked some hair from Reed’s face without thinking. The man opened his eyes—hazy from the drugs—and he gripped Shane’s wrist.

A grip of goddamned steel. Shane had always known that being in the house with both these man was anything but safe. Maybe that’s why his cock hardened with the touch.

“Hey Reed,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. Reed gave him a drugged smile, pulled his arm close and kissed the inside of his wrist a couple of times. But the death grip never released.

Keith was watching them intently.

“Does this happen?”

“Never.”

Shane met Keith’s gaze. There was no anger there. Lust, mixed with some emotion just out of reach…

“Shane.” Reed’s voice.

“Don’t underestimate him,” Keith warned.

“Reed, you’re okay. Tell me what you need.” Shane spoke softly. But Reed just grinned like the cat that ate the canary and fell back to sleep. The grip on Shane’s wrist loosened a little, but he didn’t want to risk waking the man up by pulling away, so he didn’t.

There were still traces of camo paint along the sides of Reed’s face, even after Keith had painstakingly wiped him down. Shane could see the evidence of that on the washcloths in the basin by the bed. Reed smelled like fresh air. Gun oil. Battle.

“He came in and went to sleep for a few minutes while I was getting the steam shower ready for him. I came back to this,” Keith explained.

“Did something happen?”