Troy beamed at him and crawled in the bed, holding the covers up. “Come snuggle, Master. We’ll watch silly TV together. This feels so decadent.”
“Might as well take advantage of doctor’s orders while we can, right? No guilt.” He tugged his clothes off, dropping them in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed, and handed over a bottle of water before climbing in with Troy.
“Meds.” He held one hand out flat, a white pill sitting on his palm.
“Maybe this is the last one, huh?”
Yeah, he didn’t think so. Monday was going to hurt like hell. He had to believe Troy knew that, but he wasn’t going to spit in the man’s drink. “Maybe.”
He watched Troy take it and then leaned back in the pillows with the remote so his boy could settle in.
Troy snuggled right up, cheek on his chest, one arm draped over his belly. “I love you.”
He knew it was true, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating hard for a minute every time he heard it. “I love you too. You’re mine. Thanks for letting me take you out. Pretty soon I’ll be showing you off again. Dancing maybe.”
“Oh, isn’t that a pretty thought. I’d like that a lot, Sir. A whole lot.”
“Then it’s a promise. And speaking of promises…” He angled his head enough to catch his boy’s lips in a kiss.
Troy hummed, licking his lips, the kiss slow and sweet, the love undeniable. His boy.
He could tell, just with a kiss, that Troy was feeling better. Maybe even getting better. He knew the pain meds would kick in shortly, but this was the real thing.
This was love.
32
The next person who asked him how he was doing was going to die. Troy growled at Saul and Geoff and stormed upstairs, as best as he could—fucking heart monitor. He wanted a shower, a beer, a blowjob, and… and…
Shit.
He didn’t have an ‘and’.
He didn’t fucking need an ‘and’.
Damn near a month after surgery, and he wasn’t right yet.
His chest hurt, and it was ugly—the scar fat and thick and raw, his ink destroyed.
God.
He was going to take down every mirror in this entire fucking house.
“Troy?” He heard Saul call up the stairs after him and ignored it, starting the shower so he had an excuse not to listen. He half expected Saul to come find him in the bathroom and give him hell, or try to baby him, but he made it all the way through without being harassed.
By the end, his temper was cooler, and he felt almost—almost—human again.
He left the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and found Saul waiting for him, sitting on the end of the bed, back straight and arms crossed. Those blue eyes pegging him with a stern look. “Boy.”
Goddamn it.
“Yes, Sir?”
Saul stood and stepped close to him, hooked a finger into the towel and it fell to the floor. “I sent Geoff home. You’ll apologize to him tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir.” That was no skin off his nose. Geoff would understand. Geoff got him.
“Go lie down on your back, hands up over your head if it’s not too uncomfortable for you.”
He wanted to ask questions. Hell, to be honest, he really wanted to struggle and fight and just be an asshole because he was ugly and tired and frustrated.
He was also Saul’s, and Saul deserved his respect, so he did as he was told. He stretched out on the bed and lifted his arms.
Hell, he didn’t even sigh.
“Good boy.” Saul lifted a pair of cuffs he hadn’t noticed sitting on the dresser and sat on the bed beside him. “You’re frustrated? Angry? Speak freely.”
“I am. I’m pissed. Frustrated. I hate this.”
“What do you hate?” His Master gently buckled the cuffs on his wrists, taking time, moving slow.
“Being tired. Being weak. Being ugly. Not being real. I need to start working, to start feeling better. I want my life back!” The anger in the words couldn’t be hidden.
Saul stayed silent and clipped the cuffs together, then tethered the cuffs to the headboard with a thin length of rope.
And then a heavy hand landed on his sternum, covering his entire scar.
“I hate it,” he whispered. “It’s huge. Ugly.”
“I don’t.” Saul’s chest was bare, and he could see the way those ribs expanded with his Master’s deep breath. Saul climbed over him, straddling his thighs and bent to kiss his collarbone while that hand stayed put, warming the scarred skin beneath it. “Under this scar is your heart. And this is how they saved it. How they saved you.”
Saul’s mouth traveled over his throat and down to one nipple to taste it, tongue rolling it between his lover’s soft words. “Your scar is proof that you’re strong and healthy, that you fought to stay here with me.”
Troy blinked slowly, seduced and surprised by the words and that touch. He’d forgotten that his body could feel good, that Saul could do this for him.
“I’d rather have you frustrated than not have you at all. Frustrated I can fix. I might even be able to fix angry.” Saul traveled lower, finding that scar and covering it with gentle kisses. “I’m as proud of this scar as I am of you.”
Troy moved to stroke Saul’s head, brought up short by the cuffs. “Master.”
How could he comprehend this? No one had ever loved him, cared for him like this, even when he was failing.
“Mmm. A different kind of frustrating. Relax. You’re just going to have to accept that this is all about you.” Saul moved lower still, licking across his belly. “Do you think blowing you counts as sex? I mean, what do doctors know?”
“You make it hard to maintain a temper tantrum. Thank you, Sir.” Troy licked his lips, the thought of Saul’s cock in his mouth even more of a turn on than a blow job of his own.
“You’re welcome, but I’ve been watching you, boy. You make me hungry. And you’re hot when you’re pissed off. Damn.” Finger slid over the piercings just behind his sac.
He whimpered deep in his chest, one leg drawing up, bending to expose himself more. He would give Saul anything the fine son of a bitch would take.
“Oh, man. I’ve missed that sound.” Saul teased him, circling his hardware, jostling it, tugging on it gently.
He rocked down into Saul’s hands, a soft moan splitting the air. “That… Please, Sir.”
“And that, too.” A hungry tongue circled the head of his cock, tasted his ring, burrowed through his slit. Lightning buzzed along his spine, making his eyes cross. His balls drew up, and he panted, forcing himself not to jerk, drive him into that heat.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” his Master reminded him with a dark chuckle.
He tried, until his cock slid past Saul’s lips. Saul’s throat closed around him, swallowing, the pressure and suction making his eyes cross.
Then he did stop breathing, because the whole world screeched to a halt, trapped in Saul’s heat. He shook, going from damn-that’s-good to Jesus-fuck-I’m-fixin’-to-shoot in a heartbeat.
“Mm.” Saul seemed to know and hummed around him, then swallowed him deep. That was all she wrote. He shot so hard his bones rattled, and he poured himself out in a rush.