Snowed In
Page 9
“You, sir, have some very interesting wiring. I think over time, if you’d trust me, allow me, I could make you very, very happy.”
Cam melted. The Dom fled, and he gave Hunt a shy smile. “Okay.” He made to sit up, and Hunt got to his feet. Cam pulled his shirt back on.
“I wish you could give me a hickey and we could dry hump until we come, but”—Cam looked uncertain—“they’re still coming. We’re all cabin-fevered, so I invited them for fun and food. And if you want Jag to take care of you, I have floggers.”
He swung around and rested his cast leg on the coffee table, looking up at Hunt for a reaction. “They’re staying over, in the guestroom. But it’s not too late to call it off.”
A shuloping crash startled them. Bright light flooded the room. Half the packed snow-ice had dropped from the window. The glass heated by the Colorado sun had melted it from the inside. A steady dripping sound reached them.
“Nice,” Hunter said of the big triangle of clear blue sky. He sat down on the coffee table next to Cam’s leg, facing him. “So, do they play poker?”
Cam cocked his head, wondering why Hunter hadn’t reacted to the noise. “You know Nicky does, but with Jag, we always play bridge.”
Hunt laughed. “You’ll have to teach me before they get here; I never played it.”
“Good,” said Cam. “We play for money. You can partner Nicky; he’s not that good either.”
“I see. Stealing from the poor to give to yourself?”
“You’re a gaming genius, Hunter Dane. After an hour, we’ll be lucky to break even. Besides, it’s a penny a point.” Cam eyed him critically. “You know, you seem—relaxed. Is it losing the collar? Did you hate it so much?”
“No, it served a purpose. When I was on the floor in the kitchen, while it was still on, I figured some stuff out. I was looking forward to telling you.”
“You didn’t, though.”
Hunter gave him a speculative look. “I was kind of hoping for the humping thing to happen, first.”
“Spill,” Cam said, serious now.
Hunter took Cam’s hands. “Last night I slept.” He fixed Cam with a stressed look. “No dreams, no drugs, no alcohol, no nightmares.”
“That sounds familiar,” Cam told him.
“It’s the same thing I told you after our first time together. I also told you no one else could have done what you did. You didn’t believe me.”
“Hunter, you’ve been going to Doms for release from your stress, call it psychic pain, for what? Years?”
“Since highschool.”
“Highschool?”
Hunter waved that away. “That’s a long story about a linebacker and a climbing rope. Ask me some night after a few beers. The thing is, I was living a life I didn’t realize I was living. That I didn’t choose. It just … happened that way.
“I lived a life where no one touched me. I touched my subs, Doms touched me with whips and belts and their cocks. But no one touched me.”
He raised Cam’s hands to his mouth and kissed his fingers.
“It was the first thing you did after you locked us in the playroom, the Church. I was still dressed, attached to the yoke. You stripped in front of me, another thing other Doms never do: be naked.”
“I hate fussing with clothes when I’m working a sub,” Cam told him.
Cam moved to the prie-dieu, a modified prayer kneeler used for creative penance. He used it as a valet stand as he stripped off. It wasn’t a performance; he simply removed his clothes.
Michelangelo employed workmen and stonecutters as models, and the lean well-muscled torsos in his works confirm it. Cam wasn’t David, slender and sharply cut. Cam was the Dying Slave - solid like living stone, smoothly sculpted, strong columns of thighs. This was a body with the strength to hold Hunter up and the power to bring him down.
Once Cam was nude, he considered Hunter like a complex math problem he was solving in his head. He walked slowly around his bound sub and stopped in front.
Cam had big hands, strong fingers. He placed his palms flat in the center of Hunt’s chest and … felt him. Up along shoulders, down over the chest and abs, around the waist and up the sides. His hands roughened, warm and … the length of Cam’s nude body pressed to Hunter’s as he worked his way under Hunt’s shirt, around to his back. Cam ran his fingers up and down the long groove of Hunt’s spine …
“You do remember,” Hunt said as Cam’s eyes became dark and unfocused. “You stripped me. And went on touching me. Feeling me. It made me crazy hot. No man—no one at all—ever made me like that.”
Cam pulled his hands free and laid them on the sides of Hunter’s face.
… then his hands were on Hunt’s thighs and ass, between his legs, up his torso: a blind man memorizing a sculpture.
He aroused Hunt with expertise and confidence, thumbs slid over nipples and Cam nodded when they hardened. His fingers between his captive’s legs manipulated, and Hunter trembled, trying to stay upright and silent, knees weak, cock raging…
Cam dragged Hunter off the table and took his mouth, opening him, ravaging him in a teeth-clashing, lips-numbing kiss. Hunt went to his knees and bound Cam to himself with greedy arms, wanting as much Cam as he could get against himself, inside himself, as much as he could enter in return.
They’d break for air and words and mouths over skin and find each other’s tongues again until Hunter ripped himself away. He held Cam at arm’s length, hands flat on his chest.
“Wait,” he gasped. “Just …” He adjusted himself and perched back on the edge of the table.
Cam lay back, still catching his breath. “Talk. Or I’ll shove something bigger than my tongue in your mouth.”
Hunter stood and walked around to the other side of the table. He was smiling again, looking at Cam: flushed and wild-haired and dangerous.
“You kept touching me. It was like the thing about the rivers and the lake. The other Doms, they gave me pain, and that worked, like a mental battering ram. But you … it was almost cruel how you made me feel, hot and safe and helpless and humiliated and connected. Connected to you. No one ever made me feel that before.”
Cam sat back up, curious. “You never felt humiliated? What about Ad leading you around like a dog?”
“You saw that?”
“Heard about it. From him. It wasn’t humiliating?”
Hunt shrugged. “Not really, it was his thing, I figured. His own kink. Like I told you before, they gave me what I needed, they got to have what they wanted. It didn’t make me hard or anything. Only you did that.”
He went to the fire, half-turned away from Cam.
“You didn’t beat your way through the layers of defenses,” Hunter went on. “You washed them away, massaged them away, gave me some kind of life energy you seem to exude from your pores. And it was too much, too fucking much. But you’re goddamned relentless. You wouldn’t stop until it all sloughed off and I was left raw and exposed. It was terrifying. And wonderful.
“And when you finally gave me the pain, it was just more touching. I could feel you through the fall, like an extension of your hand. It was power and comfort and agony and safety. Then you shoved into me, and it was you, touching everything inside me, making me stronger than the pain, taking the horror into yourself when it exploded out of me.”
He finished in a hoarse whisper, head down, tears dropping, sparkling in the firelight. “I think …”
Cam leaned forward, barely able to hear the words Hunter spoke into the flames.
“—I think I loved you, then.”
Cam’s throat was so tight he could barely breathe. He believed Hunter cared for him—maybe even loved him. But he never thought he’d hear that word from Hunter’s mouth. Maybe he only meant in that one moment he’d loved Cam. But if he did then, he did now.
Hunter wiped his face with both hands and turned around. When he spoke, his voice was normal.
“It’s the connection, I think. The touching opens a channel and
energy flows. It might sound fanciful, but I don’t know another way to explain it.”
He went back to the couch, sat next to Cam and took his hand.
“Every time we were together, you touched me. Until the parking lot, when you left and wouldn’t kiss me. When you thought about leaving me.
“That’s when I got crazy, when I could barely do my job for the fear we’d never touch each other again. I couldn’t deal with what was really not a very bad case. But now, all through the storm, you touched me or made me touch you.”
Hunter smiled. “I don’t need breaking, Cam. I don’t think I’ll ever need that again. You put yourself in me. Now, I’m always touched.”
IT WASN’T FRENZIED when they came together. It was simple and sure and complete and comfortably sexual. They lay on their sides, face-to-face, bodies pressed but not straining, and talked all about Hunter’s resistance and Cam’s determination and how soon they should get up and ready for company and whether they should shave or not.
In the distance, through the great glass window, they heard a faint but familiar high-pitched beeping.
The snowplows were on the way.
*****
Epilogue - Monday Dec 5th
“You ready?” Hunter Dane stood in the doorway to the physical therapy room, watching Cam button up the fly of his jeans.
Cam turned sparkling blue eyes and a big, crooked, dimple-enhanced grin to Hunter.
“You bet I am, watch this,” he said, an excited kid about to turn a cartwheel.
He used his crutches to cross to a visitor’s chair, turned himself and … sat down.
Hunter applauded. “Wow, knees that bend. Next thing, they’ll be inventing eyeballs that move.” Cam rolled his. “Whoa! The future is now.”
Hunter went to Cam and knelt in front of him, running his hands up the backs of both calves, along the sides of both thighs and down. He turned his own shining face up.
“You feel amazing, and you look—like you should be in a big bed watching me peel these jeans off of you.”
He stood and leaned over the chair, kissing Cam briefly on the mouth. “But didn’t I hear about a brace you were going to be wearing?”
“On the bed.”
Hunter retrieved the contraption, a lightweight metal cage over a web of nylon strapping with velcro closures.
Cam straightened out the straps and lifted his healing leg, slipping the brace under his thigh.
“I’ll go pull the Outback around, meet you outside the main entrance,” Hunter told him. “You’re driving?”
Cam tightened one of the straps down. “Betcher ass I am.”
CAM GUIDED THE OUTBACK THROUGH THE CURVES into the foothills. He’d been quiet during the drive out of town. Hunter noted the lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened.
“Sore?” Hunt asked, looking out his side window.
“I didn’t want to take anything, I can’t drive on that shit.”
“Makes sense.”
Cam turned up the side road that led to his development.
“You coming in, tomorrow?” Hunt asked.
Cam shot him a look. “Somebody dead?”
“Vast numbers of people are dead. But none have been assigned to the team. It’s just a workday.”
Cam drove in silence for a mile or so. “You want me there?”
The Outback was not a very wide vehicle. Hunter ran his hand up the inside of Cam’s thigh and nudged his cock through the denim with a couple knuckles. “I want you everywhere. But I already told you, the office is off limits for sex.”
“You’re doing the obtuse thing, again.” Cam ignored Hunter’s hand. His twenty-four-year-old penis did not.
“I’m really glad we had the weekend for old movies, popcorn and non-angsty sex.” Hunter opened his hand over Cam’s growing erection, quite hot and hard through the soft, thick fabric. “How the hell big is your hot water heater, anyway?”
Hunter was referring to an hour they’d spent on the floor of his shower. Hunter had covered Cam’s cast leg in a large plastic trash bag. Letting the warm spray rain over their bodies, the men found new places and ways to make each other crazy hot, and deeply satisfied.
“Dammit, Hunter.” Cam shifted, trying to straighten himself. He removed Hunt’s hand and turned up the private road to the development.
“Are you going home now, or what?” Cam asked.
Hunter recognized Cam’s effort to sound mildly curious. Dispassionate. Hunt was more adept at it than Cam; he’d had more practice. He was also more practiced at discerning mood and reading body language. It made him a fearsome competitor at the poker table, an exceptional interrogator at work.
But Hunter knew he didn’t ever want to be playing games where Camden Snow was concerned.
Cam turned up his long driveway winding between walls of drifts the plows scraped out, and stopped in front of the garage. He noted Hunt’s Bronco, left outside on the apron, had been dug out by the private plowing company while they’d been gone.
It sat shiny and black in a roofless three-sided garage of snow. Hunter could simply get into it and drive away. And Cam needed to let him, if that’s what he wanted.
They released their seatbelts simultaneously, and it startled them into laughter.
Hunter turned toward Cam, putting his back against the cold door. “This is my idea: I get in my car, find my cell, possibly frozen and certainly dead, take it inside and see if I can get it to charge up. Tomorrow morning, I leave early, stop at my apartment to dress. Grab some more work clothes and stuff. Go to work, where I will see you.”
He paused. Cam just nodded, his lips a tight line.
“After work,” Hunt continued, “We meet back here. I bring my shit in and you find a place for it. I don’t want to look like a rumpled country sheriff instead of the smoothly urbane homicide detective that I actually am.”
Cam processed what Hunter said, and his mouth softened.
Hunter touched Cam’s thigh. “No one knows we’re together and I’d like to not change that, right now. It’ll leak eventually. I think it’ll be less interesting to everyone if it’s been going on a while. Like old news. So I want us to keep taking our own cars. That’s what I want. At least for a while.”
Hunter removed his hand. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to move into my guest room,” Cam said. “Not out of your place, just—into my guest room. It’s got a sitting room, a decent bathroom, and a private entrance.”
He stopped and searched Hunt’s face for a reaction. But Hunter was keeping himself to himself until Cam was finished.
“I want you to move into the guest room, but I want you to sleep with me. And I know you’ll want to stay at your place, a lot. Especially when we’re working a case. Be in town, on call, all that. You have your place, where you live.
“But I want you to move into my guest room,” Cam repeated. “I want to know you’re coming back.”
They gazed seriously at one another and then smiled.
Hunter leaned over and kissed Cam swiftly. “Let’s go inside so I can take your jeans off.”
Cam flushed and all his lines smoothed out. He raised an eyebrow. “Grab your cell, first.”
They opened their doors simultaneously.
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Author’s Note:
Wednesday Nov 30th
4:28am
4:34am
9:15am
4:15pm
8:00pm
10:30pm
Thursday, December 1st
12:37am
4:30am
9:40am
Epilogue - Monday Dec 5th
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