The Deeper He Hurts (17 page)

The curve of the r bubbled up beneath the tip of the pick, the red line changing as the blister formed to create the last letter. Ash lifted the tool away, the distinct sparking silencing.

Asher.

His name was branded onto Sawyer's dick.

Possession spread from the very heart of Asher and bled into his amazement. Sawyer's sounds had peaked and ebbed during the hour-long process until they'd eventually dwindled into incoherent grunts and moans. His stark endurance fascinated Asher and he marveled at Sawyer's ability to withstand so much pain without a single protest.

The strength it took to handle that level of torture with zero resistance was beyond the comprehension of most people. The human mind wasn't built to sustain prolonged high levels of pain, which was why torture was so effective at making most people talk. Yet Sawyer had held strong through the entire slow process of second-degree burns being etched on the sensitive skin of his penis, a feat he'd never witnessed before, even from the most devout pain sluts.

He turned the wand off, quiet hitting the room to leave only Sawyer's low breaths. The burnt-flesh scent had assimilated with the bittersweet aroma of Sawyer's fear and excitement to create an enticing fragrance of pain. He scanned up his length, noting the sag in his muscles, along with the slight indents from the bands. They were the only thing holding him up now. His head hung forward, damp hair clinging to his cheeks. Mouth parted, his lips a dark red that beckoned to be kissed.

Sawyer was gorgeous. Every tormented, valiant inch of him called to Ash in ways he couldn't describe.

“Sawyer,” he murmured, standing. He cupped his face and lifted his head so he could see into his stunning golden eyes when they fluttered open. It took a moment before they came into focus. His pupils had shoved most of the color back to a thin circle of amber. His pulse beat a steady rhythm on his neck, his breaths measured. “You with me?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a lazy attempt at a smirk, eyelids closing in a slow descent. Ash would take that as a “Yes.” Sawyer was floating deep in the endorphin-induced high. That in itself said something about the intensity of the branding—it was the first time he'd ever seen him in this state.

There were many who sought the pain for this high, but not Sawyer.

He stroked his thumb over the stubble on his cheek, brushed his hair back, the damp ends slicking through his fingers. His lips were soft and slightly chapped when he kissed them. The light touch fluttered into his heart and unfurled the love he'd failed to contain. It eased through him on a mellow note of acceptance. There was nothing to be done about it now.

Loving Sawyer was the last thing he'd expected and the one thing he wanted, with a desperation that clawed at his chest. The fear was worse, though. The worry over Sawyer's safety and state of mind ate at him. How long could he go on living in the pain instead of life?

The ache in his throat grew, and he tried to swallow it down. A slow breath, another gentle swipe through Sawyer's hair before he stepped back. Sawyer's head rolled to the side, a little smile holding on his mouth.

Ash cleared his throat, eyes misting when he studied Sawyer's dick. Would Sawyer understand the significance? He hadn't protested—when Ash had kind of hoped he would. But now, seeing the finished product, he didn't regret doing it.

He stretched his back, rolled his shoulder, shook out the ache in his arm, and nudged his glasses up yet again. Perspiration soaked the back of his shirt, but he still had work to do, a responsibility he took as seriously as the scene itself.

A whimper escaped from Sawyer when Ash dabbed a sterile cloth on the blistered lines forming his name. He tried to be careful now. The point wasn't to hurt but to ensure the wound didn't get infected.

He released the cock ring next. Sawyer's erection was a deep ruby red and showed off the burns beautifully. Another soft moan tumbled over Ash's head to warm him in that odd way he never truly understood.

The skin contracted as Sawyer's dick softened, the marks bunching up a bit, but his name was still clearly visible. Sawyer was a shower more than a grower.

“I'm going to remove the straps now,” he said as he skimmed his palms down Sawyer's thighs. He paused to admire the scars that bisected and defined them, each of them jumping out to whisper their secrets. But what were their truths? Had they healed the wounds within him, or added to them?

Would he ever know?

Dashing the questions aside, he worked his way up from Sawyer's ankles, the straps falling away to dangle from the board. His arms dropped to his side when they were freed, and Ash took the time to massage each one from wrist to shoulder.

“Are you ready for the last ones?” The chest and hip straps still held him up. Sawyer nodded. “My stool is to your right.” He'd locked the wheels to keep it from rolling. Sawyer's legs trembled under his full weight when he undid the last strap, but he managed to lower himself to the seat with Ash's help.

“Here.” He placed an open bottle of orange juice in his hand. “Drink this.”

Sawyer's eyes stayed closed, but he drank down the entire bottle in a few long gulps. Ash switched it out for a bottle of water, then placed a towel in his other hand.

“Let me know when you're ready to move.” He stayed by his side, time passing in the gentle comfort of the intimate bond they shared.

The adrenaline was fading from his own system, a tiredness dragging on his shoulders and slowing his mind. His stomach cramped when he thought too far ahead, so he tried not to think. He laid a hand on Sawyer's head, and Sawyer leaned into his hip. The simple gesture was a huge step beyond the guy who'd resisted such closeness just a couple of months ago.

They made the trek up two flights of stairs to his bedroom when Sawyer was ready. Braced together, they took each step in unison, sides glued together, arms wound around the other. Ash had pulled the bedding back earlier, and Sawyer lay down on the cool sheets with a soft sigh.

A warm breeze blew in through the open windows, and he shut the door to keep the air-conditioned air out of the room. He didn't want Sawyer to get chilled when the buzz wore off. The crash could be hard, and this was the first time he'd seen him sink this deeply into subspace. He had no idea how Sawyer was going to react when the endorphin-adrenaline cocktail wore off.

Ash stripped down to his underwear and crawled onto the bed next to Sawyer. Water, sports drinks, light snacks, and more medical supplies were stacked on the nightstands. He set his glasses on the closest one, then rolled over to rest his head on Sawyer's shoulder. He needed to be close now. Needed to reassure himself that Sawyer was okay. That they were good.

That maybe this wasn't going to end in a few days.

The ache in his chest grew deeper, and he shut down that line of thought. It wouldn't help right now. This, though, this gentle comfort might.

He released a slow breath, wove his leg between Sawyer's and tried to just
be
. The contact soothed him in ways he couldn't explain. Sawyer's heat spread into him, teased his longing while filling the emptiness he'd neglected to see until Sawyer exposed it. He mapped the landscape of Sawyer's chest into his mind, the firm pecs, taut abs, and assorted small scars locked into his memory.

Sawyer's arm came around his shoulders, tugged him closer. He exhaled, every wish for this to last, for Sawyer to stay, rushing free.

The sky had darkened while they'd been downstairs, and once again the room was bathed in varying shades of gray and pale blue. The sun had set, the last reflection of its light fading over the clouds. Without his glasses, the distant shapes were indistinct, but he appreciated the soft effects.

Sawyer played with the ends of his hair, each light brush of his fingers sending a wave of hope and despair to his chest.

“Are you all right?” he asked again when the shadows lengthened. The breeze brought a hint of the encroaching fall chill while still carrying the summer scents of cut grass and growth.

He turned his head to capture the musky-sweet fragrance that was all Sawyer. Would he remember it when he was gone?

“It was a fire.” Sawyer's voice was raw, the husky tones cutting through the hushed moment to intensify their importance.

Ash stilled, thoughts spinning until they caught up with Sawyer's words.
It was a fire.
The randomness scrambled, then solidified. Sawyer's past. His pain. The secrets he'd dodged and avoided until Ash had accepted he might never know them. But now…

His pulse jumped with another shot of hope and he tried to shift up, but Sawyer tightened his hold. Ash hesitated, questions racing before he gave in and relaxed back into him. He could listen, even if he couldn't see his expression—would listen to everything.

“You don't have to tell me,” he found himself saying. After weeks of wondering and cursing the knowledge he did have, he'd willingly stay in the dark if it meant saving Sawyer some pain.

Yeah. That was the man, not the sadist, shining through.

The stroking resumed in his hair, each slow caress a comfort, but every sense was waiting for Sawyer. He hadn't prayed in a long time, yet he did it now. God might not be listening, but he offered up the words anyway, that whatever Sawyer said or did next, would free him—even if it drove him away.

That night hovered on the edge of his mind, knocking so close Sawyer silently cringed on reflex. Going back had never helped before. No wishes or what-ifs could return his family or change the outcome that'd left him orphaned and alone.

But…

He floated on a cloud right now, Asher keeping him grounded with his tender hold and easy touch. The fresh scent of his shampoo surrounded him on every inhale and covered the scorched-flesh stench he'd feared would never leave.

“An electrical fire,” he said, the words hitting the silence with a dull flatness. Any emotion had dried up with each dose of pain, each year that'd passed with no one around him. “It started in the wall. Took over before my family could get out.”

Bright orange and yellow flames against the dark expanse of the endless night. Billowing smoke rolling up beneath the crackling roar of death.

His breath hitched, stuck. Asher slid his hand down, a light touch on Sawyer's dick bringing his breath back in a gushing exhale. Pain rippled outward from his shaft, spread through his groin until it slithered over his abdomen and down his thighs. A pulsing throb centered on his dick that matched the beat of his heart. Consistent, grounding, his.

His mind mapped each line of Asher's name, burned into the one place he'd never have expected. It was too personal, both the name and the location. Yet this was the closest anyone had gotten to him since…

The fire.

“I was sixteen.” He cleared the tears from his throat, blinked to ease the sting in his eyes. “I'd snuck out to meet a…friend. He was…my first boyfriend.” Asher's soft kiss landed on his pec, the lingering touch spiking into his heart. “The flames were visible for miles across the valley, but the house was remote and the fire trucks arrived too late.”

Sirens blaring through the small town had been the first warning of danger, one he'd ignored in the arrogance of his youth. He'd never imagined something so horrific could ever happen, though. Pain spread from his heart, the muscle contracting to hold in the bitterness and anger.

“There was nothing anyone could do. The second story was fully engulfed when the volunteer firemen arrived. By the time I got there, my family was already dead.”

Burned in their beds. All four of them.

“I tried to rush in to save them anyway. I was determined to reach them.” Ash hugged him tighter, his quiet support sinking through Sawyer's resistance to ease the hurt. He stared at the fading outlines of the trees against the midnight blue sky, the words tumbling out in a purging of his past mistakes. “Smoke burned my throat, so thick and black I couldn't see. The heat was…” A blistering inferno. Surrounding and trapping him. “I made it to the base of the stairs before I collapsed. They yanked me back out, barely conscious.” The stairwell had been impassable, the bedrooms cut off.

“The rest is hazy after that.” Days lost in the dark seclusion of pain, both physical and emotional. “I was rushed to the hospital. Treated for smoke inhalation along with first- and second-degree burns on my arms.” He stared at his pristine forearm. The scars there had faded years ago.

Asher shifted up and he let him this time, afraid of what he'd see, yet needing to know. He had no idea if he was ready, no idea what he wanted. He couldn't hide, though. Not from Asher. Not anymore.

Everything was out there now, his empty heart exposed and vulnerable. Years of resisting any level of affection shattered by the pain and kindness Asher gave as freely as he took.

Shadows brought them closer, somehow emphasizing the empathy and amazement etched on Asher's expression. He was braced on one arm, still touching him, still close. So very close.

“You…” Asher began, then stopped, throat working. He cupped Sawyer's neck, thumb rasping over the stubble on his jaw. “You've lived through so much pain. Lived
with
it.”

The raw ache burned in Sawyer's throat, grew from his chest and inched its way closer to the surface.

“I was empty after that,” he admitted, the last of of his walls tumbling down. “Everything inside me shut down.” Emotions, dreams, desire—they'd all died with his family. “I should've been with them.” His voice broke, the admission ripping from the darkness to expose the single truth that still ached within his heart. “I should've been with them.”

“No.” The soft but fierce insistence caressed his cheek before Asher's kiss landed on his temple. “No.” A gentle touch by his ear. “No.”