“Master? Yoga doesn’t have supposed to. Practice changes every day, depending on what I—what we—need. Some nights can be vigorous, exhausting if we need. Practice can be sensual, relaxing, energizing.” Troy stroked Saul’s hand. “Some days I have to spend an hour just trying to open my chest, when I realize I’m hunching and I haven’t been able to talk to anyone. I spent two years learning a headstand for my practice, every night.” Was he even making sense?
“Really? That makes me feel a little less like a bull in a china shop. I thought it was supposed to be all Zen and quiet. Maybe we could figure something out then.” The fire popped and the logs collapsed, and Saul let his hand go to pick up a stick and poke at the pile of logs. “Whatever we do I just want it to be us. I’m not just your Dom and you’re not just my sub. We’re more than that, too.”
“We are. We’re lovers. I haven’t been in love for a while. I thought maybe I’d forgotten how.” In all the things he’d done in his life, and he’d done a lot, this might be the hardest, to bare his heart, his soul.
“I’ve never been. I just realized this morning how hard I’m falling.” Saul looked away from the fire and smiled at him. “I thought I was supposed to be all nervous about it but I’m not. I’m loving this ride.”
“Good. I thought I was supposed to be quiet, you know? I feel a little like my world is lighter.” Like his universe was opened to something new.
“That’s the point.” Saul tossed his stick into the fire and knelt in front of his chair. “It’s how this is supposed to work. And about the best compliment you could give me right now.”
He reached out, cupping Saul’s face. “My heart is racing, Master.”
“Mine too. I think it’s a good thing.” Saul kissed his palm, then his wrist, then his lips just gently. “You’re good for me. I can’t explain it but I know it, I feel it every morning when I wake up.”
Troy couldn’t stop smiling. There wasn’t a bit of sorrow inside him right now.
“I love it when you smile. Show me how we celebrate a good day.”
“Marshmallows?” he teased, rubbing their noses together.
Saul laughed. “Wait. Is it still yoga if we sit on our mats and chat and eat marshmallows?”
“So long as we remember to breathe…”
“Never happen.” Sir was still giggling. “Can we make worship part of our nighttime practice? You know, of each other?” Saul slipped a hand under his shirt.
“Yes, Sir. I could spend hours worshipping you.” His Master’s hand was cold, and his entire body woke up.
The chilly fingers found his piercing and gave it a tug. “You bank the fire and I’ll make the bed. And if you want some time on the mats before bed, with or without me, just speak up. Always speak up.”
“Yes, Sir.” He licked his lips, his eyes crossing as that tug happened again, hard, sure.
“Good boy.” Saul’s hand traveled from his chest to the bulge in his jeans that had been with him all day, and then Saul stood and headed for the tent. “Very good boy.”
19
Saul locked up the bike shop over an hour late, after one of the busiest days they’d had all summer. Emma had a date, so she’d left at about six, but it was coming up on seven thirty now. Late summer was damn good for business.
He leaned on his bike and pulled out his phone to text Troy a little love. Thinking about you, so is my dick.
It took longer than he’d expected to get an answer, Troy sending him a heart.
Hearts were good, though. What’s for dinner? He knew Troy liked to bring something from the grill home. He also knew it was usually a patty melt and a hundred French fries but he liked to ask anyway.
I’ll order you something.
Wait. No. Troy only ate one meal a day; Saul knew that. He wasn’t going to let his boy not eat. And he never saw Troy on Saturdays, that was their agreement. So was that an invitation? Sometimes he wished this was easier.
You want me to come over? I’ll bring food.
Another pause, then his phone rang.
“Master?” His boy’s voice sounded… weak. Rough.
“I’m here.”
“I’m having a shit day. You got a minute?”
A shit day wasn’t going to get better being alone and without food. And a big piece of him was surprised and relieved that Troy had even told him. “I have all the time you need. Can I come over?” He could leave his bike inside the shop and take the bus.
“Do you want me to come pick you up?” That was a definite yes.
Jesus this was some bad day. Made his long one look easy. “It’s faster than the bus. I just locked up the shop. Are you okay to drive?”
“Yes, Sir. I was considering smoking a joint, but I’d be at the convenience store buying a pack of smokes, so I’m sober.”
“Good choice, boy. I’ll wait right here. Please breathe and drive carefully.” Maybe his boy could have a supervised smoke later. “Okay? Breathe.”
That actually got him a soft laugh. “Yes, Sir. In and out. I’ll be right there.”
Okay. He needed to breathe himself. His lover, his boy needed him. He walked his bike back to the shop and put it inside, grabbed a couple of bottles of water, and locked up again. It was a nice evening and he didn’t mind waiting out in it at all.
Troy pulled up and offered him a wan smile through the open window. “Hey, stranger.”
His boy seemed so tired, unhappy, drawn, hat pulled down low to shadow his face.
“Hey, you. Slide over. I’ll drive.” He handed Troy one of the waters through the window and opened the driver’s side door.
“Thank you, Sir.” Troy scooted over, moving stiffly.
It would take some maneuvering to lean over and kiss Troy, not to mention he’d have to mess with that hat, so for now he just put a hand on his boy’s thigh. “You’re okay. Drink some water.”
“I am. It’s just been a shit day, all day long.”
He pulled away from the curb and headed toward Troy’s place. “I’m sorry. That sucks. Was work crazy?”
“Yes. God, yes. The shipment didn’t come in until late. I burned the fuck out of my hand, and—” Troy stopped, sighed. “Sorry.”
“For what? I asked, I want to know. Go ahead and vent. Is your hand okay?” He tried to glance at it, but it was in shadow and he was driving so he couldn’t get a good look. He pushed the speed limit a little just to get Troy home, he wanted to be where he could get his arms around his boy, see what was in those green eyes.
“There’s a blister, but it wasn’t serious. Nothing’s been serious, but I’m so fucking aggravated!”
Jesus. There was a lot of emotion in that one sentence. Troy was pretty worked up, and he decided to help his boy get it out for now. Just get it all said. “I hear that. What happened with the shipment?”
“Someone fucked up the order, and I won’t name names, but my fucking signature wasn’t on the invoice. It was a mistake, and I get that, but God fucking forbid anyone take notice, or you’re on the boss’ radar all damn day.”