* * * *
Connor’s emotions had wildly and repeatedly vacillated all evening between euphoria at their reunion and guilt over knowing what Douglas had endured. He constantly scanned his boy’s face for any hint of what Douglas was feeling at any given time, desperately wanting to make up for his fuck-up on Sunday, wanting to ease his grief and soothe his soul.
And selfishly wanting to love Mackie out of Douglas’ mind.
During the quick move earlier, they’d set the pieces of Zee’s crib in the bedroom that Connor had been using as storage ever since moving out of it and into the master bedroom after his mother’s death.
His old bedroom.
He’d never been able to spend much time in there without thinking about Douglas. Hadn’t even painted the walls or anything.
They’d shoved everything to one side in that room to make room for the crib and dresser-changing table for Zee. After Douglas put Zee in the portable crib, temporarily set up in the living room, he dug the bags of nuts and bolts and some pages of notes out of another box marked Zee’s Room that he’d placed in there.
He sat down on the floor, his back to the room as he studied the notes and started looking at the reference pictures on his phone.
Then Connor realized his shoulders were slumped, shaking, and before he could scoop Kayleigh up and shuttle her out, she plopped down next to him and looked up at him.
“It’s okay to cwy when you sad, Papa.”
Connor sniffled back his own tears and sat on Douglas’ other side, draping an arm around his shoulders. Kayleigh took one of the bags and opened it, started sorting the bolts by size.
Douglas tipped his head onto Connor’s shoulder. “We just put it together a few weeks ago,” he hoarsely said. “She took pictures and video of me putting it together. She offered to do it, but I wanted to. She was good at stuff like that, and I wasn’t, But I wanted to do it.”
Connor nuzzled the top of Douglas’ head and made a mental note to ask to watch that video later. “You always were all thumbs, buddy,” he gently teased.
Douglas swiped to a set of pictures on his phone, of him obviously disassembling it, taking pictures of every step. “She never got to see her use it.”
“Can I see a pictuh of her, Papa?” Kayleigh asked.
Douglas swiped into another album, a picture of the two of them, Mackie smiling directly into the camera and him smiling, but with that sad tinge to it Connor knew all too well from his own soul. Mackie was very pregnant, and Douglas was kissing the top of her head and looking off to the side, into the distance, one hand on her tummy, her hand over his.
“She’s pwetty. What was her name?”
“Mackenzie. I called her Mackie. I named Zee after her.”
Kayleigh turned and grabbed Douglas’ face in her hands, a very serious expression furrowing her little brow. “Let me an’ Daddy do dis, Papa. We got dis.”
Connor was glad to see he broke out into a shnurfly laugh. “You do, huh?”
“Yeah. I hewp Daddy all de time. I hewped him put togethuh my big-girl bed.” Then she kissed Douglas’ forehead, and it nearly shattered Connor’s barely constrained façade. “We’ll take good cawe of you, Papa.”
Connor reached out for a tiny high-five from his self-rescuing princess. “That’s right.”
Then she went back to sorting bolts.
Connor whispered in his ear, “I might have forgotten to mention she’s a lot like meee.”
Douglas’ choked laughter was still a good thing to hear. “Now you tell me,” he muttered, but when he looked at Connor, Connor was glad to see his guy wore a tearful smile.
Chapter Twenty-One
With Connor taking charge of the reassembly, it only took thirty minutes to put the crib together, even with Douglas’ less-than-stellar instructions and diagrams.
And yes, Kayleigh did help, even knowing what tools to hand to Connor when he asked for them by name.
At least with her age, she simply accepted the fact that Daddy and Papa were going to get married in a few days and she didn’t ask uncomfortable questions about Douglas’ sudden widowhood and the fast timeframe.
It just…was.
Connor bathed Kayleigh while Douglas unpacked what he’d need immediately for Zee for the next couple of days. Once Zee was settled for the night in her crib, and they’d set up the baby monitor with the receiver on the nightstand in their bedroom, Douglas gathered in Kayleigh’s bedroom with Connor as they went through their bedtime ritual.
Connor sat on the floor next to her bed. “What are we grateful for today, Princess?”
She stared up at the ceiling for a minute before looking back to Connor. “Papa and Zee.”
Connor nodded. “I’m grateful for Papa and Zee, too.” They looked at Douglas.
“I’m grateful for Daddy and Kayleigh.”
Connor dropped him a wink as he smiled and leaned in for a quick, tame kiss from Douglas.
It was well after nine, now, which apparently was on the late side for her bedtime. Despite her late nap, once Connor had switched off the light, she was snoring almost immediately.
They quietly left the room, gently shutting the door behind them. Then Douglas followed Connor down to the master bedroom and they closed themselves in. Connor headed for the bathroom while Douglas actually took time to walk over to the dresser and study the six framed photographs.
One of a much younger Connor with his mom and dad, taken at a beach, all three of them smiling.
One of a teenaged Connor and his mom in front of a Christmas tree, their melancholy smiles silent testimony to the loss they’d recently endured.
One that Douglas remembered well because a scanned copy of it was saved on his phone, of the two of them on the Stricklands’ couch. He and Connor had been horsing around, and Connor had pulled him into his lap, both of them laughing. Mrs. Strickland had taken the picture at the perfect moment, capturing them with smiles on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes.
One of him with Connor and Connor’s mother, taken in Douglas’ house by his mom one Christmas morning, when they’d been invited over to join them for unwrapping presents and for lunch.
One of him and Connor together at their high school graduation with Mrs. Strickland, in their caps and gowns. That one had been taken by Douglas’ dad. He remembered how Mrs. Strickland kept calling them both “her boys.” He also remembered one of the few truly charitable things he ever recalled his mother doing, her later saying to his father how glad she was that Connor’s mother seemed to take comfort from Douglas spending time with her and Connor.
The last picture was just him, and he didn’t have a copy of this one, but he remembered the day it’d been taken.
The last day they’d been together, that afternoon. He’d been sitting on Connor’s bed and staring out the window, the afternoon light behind him casting shadows in the room. The picture had caught him in profile, a gawky teenager about to leave for college, a contemplative expression on his face.
He was still dressed, so it’d been before they’d started making love that day, the picture taken not long after he’d walked over from home.
Connor slipped his arms around Douglas from behind and kissed the nape of his neck. “I honestly thought I’d never see you again. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
Douglas turned in his arms and draped his around Connor’s neck. “The priest finally came in from the cold.”
Connor’s blue gaze studied him for a long moment. “Is there anything you want to ask me or need to know?”
Douglas shook his head. “I don’t care who’s in your past, only that Zee and I are your future.”
“I’m not proud of myself in light of knowing you were only with me and her.”
Douglas shrugged. “I guess I’m a masochist. What can I say?”
At least one corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.
“I’ve become quite the sadist since you left. Hope you’re up to the challenge.
”
“I think our main challenge is going to come from staying quiet and sneaky around two little girls.”
Connor’s lips curved into a full-on smile. “This is why I have ball gags.” He started nibbling his way along Douglas’ jaw, melting him. “And rope. And canes, paddles, all sorts of fun and evil things.” He nipped Douglas’ earlobe. “What do you say, boy?”
A shiver raced through Douglas, hardening his cock. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Connor’s tongue gently flicked the shell of his ear. “My boy is going to need a permanent something to mark him as mine, but I haven’t decided what yet. Thoughts?”
“Sir’s choice.” It fell from his lips automatically, as if twenty-plus years hadn’t passed.
“Oooh. That’s dangerous. Your Sir has become infinitely more devious and creative in your absence…boy.”
Douglas knew his cock had to be leaking a puddle of pre-cum in his briefs at this point. “I trust you, Sir.”
Connor tipped his head back to stare down at Douglas for a long, quiet moment. “This is for life,” he quietly said.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Evil me, playful me, vanilla me—Daddy and Connor and Sir. Daddy will always have to come first, because those two little girls will always come first, before me, before you, before us. Accept that now.”
“I do, Sir. I agree.”
Connor’s tone remained soft but firm. “I am head of this household. Of them, of you, and of us. I am the final authority, and I will not be argued with or talked back to, especially not in front of them.”
Relief and peace filled Douglas. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Truth be told, it was another reason he’d decided to be a priest. The vow of obedience he’d taken had been second-nature to him, occupying Connor’s place in his empty heart, even if it couldn’t fully replace Connor.
One of Connor’s hands slid down to grab Douglas’ ass, while with the other he cupped his cheek. “Once that wedding ring is on your hand, unless you ask my permission first, you may only take it off for an emergency, or if you need to cook and it’ll be in the way, or if you’re helping me with a repair where you might mess it up, something like that. I catch you not wearing it when you’re supposed to be, you will not like the consequences.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Connor’s eyes searched his. “We have to be careful around the girls. I know a Sir will slip out fairly regularly. I think that’s okay. When it’s you and me alone, I expect you to address me properly.” His gaze narrowed. “If you still remember how.”
This was a test and Douglas knew it. “Yes, Master.”
Connor sucked in a sharp breath before kissing him, using the hand on his ass as leverage to grind against him. He pressed his forehead to Douglas’.
“Fuck, I’ve missed that. No one’s ever called me that but you, baby. I’ve never collared anyone. Never wanted to.” He sighed. “You can use Sir in texts. But when we’re alone…” He left it hanging, waiting.
Douglas rubbed his nose against Connor’s. “You’re my Master.” Then he whispered the old words between them he could never forget, even if he’d wanted to.
“Blessed is the boy on bended knee, the boy owned by his Master. You own me, heart and soul and spirit. My love is yours, my body is yours, my blood is yours, my life is yours. To bend and break, to bow and ache, this boy belongs only to you, above all others, above even God, because I belong only to you and my Heaven is in your arms. I am most happy on my knees before you and find comfort there forever. Amen.”
Connor’s eyes squeezed shut but it wasn’t enough to hold back his tears, silent sobs shaking his body. Now it was Douglas holding him, soothing him as Connor clung to him and cried.
The afternoon Douglas had come up with it, they’d been screwing around and Connor had been not-so-nicely teasing him about church, but since it was after his revelation to Douglas about what he’d survived, Douglas had done what he’d always done—let it sail on past as something he understood Connor needed to vent and that it wasn’t personal.
And to distract Connor—and make him smile—Douglas came up with his own devotional to his Master.
Connor had loved it.
So Douglas had written it down to fully commit it to memory, and it had become its own ritual for them.
Douglas sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around Connor’s hips and pressing his face against the front of his shorts, nuzzling his rock-hard bulge.
“Blessed is the boy on bended knee, the boy owned by his Master.” He worked his way down lower, nuzzling, mouthing the outline of Connor’s cock all the way to the base. “You own me, heart and soul and spirit.” Back up again. “My love is yours, my body is yours, my blood is yours, my life is yours.”
He sat back on his heels, releasing him, bowing until his lips touched the tops of Connor’s bare feet. “To bend and break.” He kissed the tops of both his feet. “To bow and ache.”
He sat up and took Connor’s hands in his, kissing the backs of them. “This boy belongs only to you.” He turned Connor’s hands over and kissed his palms. “Above all others, above even God.”
He laid Connor’s hands on top of his head as he leaned in again, pressing his face against the front of Connor’s shorts. “Because I belong only to you and my Heaven is in your arms.” He wrapped his arms around Connor once more. “I am most happy on my knees before you and find comfort there forever. Amen.”
“Amen,” Connor hoarsely whispered, nails lightly raking along Douglas’ scalp, playing with his hair. Douglas felt him trembling and waited, knowing when his Master was ready to tell him to move, he would let him know.
* * * *
Connor struggled to drag ragged breaths into his lungs as Douglas recited it the first time, and then said it again with the movements.
Oh, my god, he’s back.
He’s really fucking back.
My boy is back!
“Book of Connor,” he hoarsely said when he could talk without sobbing. “Chapter 1, Verse 1.”
Douglas looked up, a sexy smile on his face. He leaned in and nuzzled Connor’s bulge again, his sweet grey gaze never leaving Connor’s face. “The boy shalt have no Masters before or besides Connor.”
“Verse 2.”
“Master’s word is boy’s law.”
Oh…my…god.
He remembered.
“Verse 3.”
Douglas’ smile widened. “The boy is always ready for his Master, no matter how Master wants to use him.”
“Chapter 10, Verse 1.”
Douglas softly sighed, leaning in, pressing his forehead against Connor’s body. “Master has no boys except his boy, and loves his boy unconditionally, and will never cast his boy out or give him up.” His smile faded. “I almost pounded on your door to ask you about that. If it hadn’t been for Kayleigh, I would have been begging you to talk to me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Connor whispered, not realizing he’d said it aloud until Douglas leaned back and looked up at him again. “You remember them?”
“Yes, Master. How could I ever forget? Especially since you beat them into me.” His lips once again curved into a playful smile. “Not that I minded. That kinda made it even more fun.”
It had started as a joke after Douglas had come up with the devotional. Chapter 1 was the longest, at ten verses. The other chapters had no more than five verses each.
Chapter 10 only had the one verse, and was the last entry in the Book of Connor.
Connor dragged him to his feet and slanted his lips over Douglas’ in a crushing, sucking kiss. “Fuck, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Connor released Douglas so he could yank his shirt off over his head. “Go lock the door, boy.”
His boy’s smile widened as he stepped over to do it while Connor put music on for them. By the time they wound up in bed moments later, they were both naked and reaching for each other, desperately hungry for more.
“Yes, Master.”
Despite their earlier romp, they were both hard. Connor didn’t want to have to change the sheets again, though. So he sat up, climbing up Douglas’ body and straddling his chest, pinning both of Douglas’ wrists with his left hand and stroking his own cock with his right.
He loved the way Douglas’ expression turned soft and needy as he opened his mouth wide, trying to stretch and reach the end of Connor’s cock with his tongue.
“My sweet, sweet boy,” Connor whispered as he jacked his cock. “It’s been too long since your last communion.”
“Please, Master!”
“Oh, I’m going to give it to you, don’t worry.” Connor leaned forward, more weight resting on Douglas’ hands and making the other man let out a soft, needy moan. “Say it.”
“Cleanse my heart and lips, Master, that I may be worthy of you.” Douglas licked his lips. “Through the words of my Master, may all my fears and self-doubts be wiped away. As your boy partakes of you I carry you with me, part of me, inside me. My body is yours, my blood is yours, just as yours is within me and of me.”
He felt his release close, so fucking close, and all these years had not dulled how sharp and piercing the ache felt as he chased it, needed it. “Beg me for it.”
“Please let me drink of you, Master! I need you!”
And this wasn’t even the filthiest, dirtiest, or most profane thing the two of them had ever done together.
But as his balls tightened and tensed, Connor aimed his cock at his boy’s mouth and painted his face with ropes of cum. Some of it made it into Douglas’ mouth, some of it on his chin, his lips, his cheeks.
Connor leaned in and kissed him, smearing it between them, licking him clean and feeding it to him from his own tongue. “Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh.”
Come in From the Cold Page 18