The Deeper He Hurts

by Lynda Aicher

  “Hey,” Asher said, nudging his foot beneath the table. “Sorry I dumped so much.”

  “I’m not.” The truth had come out again. It happened way too often with Asher, yet he had no desire to change it. “I admire your openness.” He truly did. The thought of laying that much of himself out to anyone had his stomach screw twisting tighter. The trust involved was…terrifying.

  “Ha.” He flashed a grin, head shaking. “Now that’s something I’ve never heard before.”

  Sawyer shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  Asher sobered, eyes searching Sawyer until his pulse started that reckless beat that shortened his breath and froze his soul.

  “Yes. There is,” Asher said.

  The double meaning snaked through the cracks around his heart, snuck beneath his guards, and whispered at the longing that grew bigger the more he was with Asher.

  This—all of this—was a first for him, and he’d lost the ability to reason away his actions, to deny he hungered for more than the pain with Asher. That in itself was guaranteed to get him plenty of pain. Only it wasn’t the kind he wanted.

  And he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

  Chapter 15

  Ash stepped outside onto his back deck, nerves mingling with the quiet that’d settled within him. His dinner confessional had become a rambling flow of information he’d had no intention of divulging. But once he’d started to explain, the door had swung wide to expose all his secrets and shame.

  The resulting quiet had surprised him, though. The easing of the constriction around his chest. The absence of the weight that clung to his shoulders. The gentle settling of fears he’d refused to voice aloud.

  Chris had known his darkest secrets, but he was gone now. He squeezed his eyes closed at the sudden reminder, his heart pinching. Would he ever stop missing him? He’d only recently deleted Chris’s contact information from his phone, a final acceptance that Chris wasn’t coming back—ever.

  Rig and a few others knew he wasn’t out to his family, but since Chris’s death there’d been no one to share his sadistic burdens, even if only in silent knowledge and mutual respect for each other’s struggles. Now Sawyer knew all of it. Knew it and had still treated him with kindness and understanding.

  Damn. His heart expanded and cracked at once.

  Sawyer leaned against the rail, gaze lost in the distance. The view was nice, but Ash doubted he saw any of it right now. His hair hung in shaggy layers around his face, jaw dark with the beard stubble that would rasp beneath his fingers and over his own jaw when they kissed.

  The sun skimmed across the tops of the trees, shadows draping the deck with the encroaching night. They colored Sawyer in grays that fit and clashed at once, each hue a reflection of the pain he harbored and the light he kept hidden.

  Shit. He really did have it bad. His laughter rolled in his head as he came up behind the guy he’d fallen too hard and fast for.

  “Hey,” he said, hand grazing up Sawyer’s back. “See anything interesting?” He offered him one of the beers he held in his other hand.

  Sawyer’s brow kicked up, eyes going to the alcohol, then back to Ash’s.

  “I’m not up for much tonight,” Ash admitted. Any desire to dive into someone else’s pain, to control and manipulate it to his liking, was gone at the moment. “Sorry.”

  Sawyer studied him for a silent moment before he took the beer. He turned back to the view, lifted the bottle to his lips, each swallow marked by the bob of his Adam’s apple. He rested the bottle on the deck rail, and Ash smothered a sigh.

  He resisted the urge to offer another apology. Even if they’d set the date to play, he’d never go into a scene if his head wasn’t fully in it. This thing with Sawyer was getting complicated, yet he’d never been more comfortable with anyone.

  “We don’t have to play every time we get together,” Sawyer finally said, voice drifting softly into the evening.

  “That’s good to know.” And a relief. But where did that leave them? Their relationship had been built around the pain. Would there be anything left if that element was removed?

  “But I’ll warn you. I’m not very good at this.”

  “Talking?” Ash nudged him, smile communicating his jest. “Or this in general?”

  “Both.”

  “You seem to be doing okay so far.”

  Sawyer hung his head, a soft “humph” escaping. “I’m good at faking.”

  He shifted until his arm rested against Sawyer’s, their biceps solidifying their connection. Heat slipped through the material of their shirts, awareness lighting him up just like always around Sawyer. “This isn’t fake.”

  “No?” Sawyer tipped his head back to sigh at the sky. “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know.” He really didn’t. “Friendship. Trust. Something that just works.”

  “Until it doesn’t.” Sawyer’s mumbled response was layered with the doubt he never seemed to let go of.

  “What if it doesn’t stop working?” The sun was down to a sliver over the top edge of Mount St. Helens in the distance, the rays sparking off the snow to highlight the flattened tip. “What if it could be more?”

  Nerves wrestled their way into his stomach before he let them go. He’d already exposed so much of himself, there was no point in hiding anything. Sawyer would deal with the information as he would and there was little Ash could do about it.

  “I can’t be…” Sawyer clenched his jaw, a muscle popping and working near his ear. He gripped his bottle, forearm tensing. “I can’t be what you want.”

  Seriously? “What do I want?”

  “A commitment. A lover. Someone to fit into your life without wrecking what you already have.”

  “Huh.” He took a sip of his beer, simply to wash the annoyance away, or maybe to keep the anger down. A steely strength dropped into his voice, forged by years of presumptions made about what he wanted. “I find it interesting that you know all of this about me when I know so little about you.”

  “So you’re denying what I said?”

  “Fuck if I know.” He thrust up, hand snaking through his hair. “But you jumped a hell of a long way into the future when we’re still stumbling over the present.”

  Sawyer’s chuckle shivered over his neck to flood him with warmth. He tipped his head, dimple popping in that too-alluring way of his. “Are you saying I’m overthinking this?”

  “I thought that was my job,” he lobbed back, irritation floating away. How in the hell did Sawyer wind him up and bring him back down so quickly?

  Sawyer emptied his bottle, a satisfied sigh escaping when he finished. He propped his hip on the railing, bangs falling over his brow. “I tell you what, Asher.”

  “Asher.” Not “Ash.” He never used “Ash.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t give promises.” He waited for Ash to acknowledge that. “I don’t have much to offer and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here with you, but I’ll try.”

  He’ll try. Ash blew out a laugh, heart lifting with something close to hope. Maybe it was only relief, but either way, he didn’t dare analyze it.

  He stepped close, beer left on the rail, and skimmed his palms around Sawyer’s shoulders, into his hair. The golden flecks took over Sawyer’s eyes, the amber shots proclaiming the doubts he was holding back. The fears he wouldn’t speak of.

  “That’s all either of us can do.” His whispered words barely made it out before he closed his mouth over Sawyer’s, tongue finding his instantly. He lapped at the heat, the lingering sweetness of beer, the fire that bled into him to ignite so much more than his desire.

  They were wedged together, hips rocking, cocks nudging each other in a prelude to what was next. He took it slow, though, drawing out every nibble and swirl of his tongue. He wanted this. The leisurely build that spoke of long nights, and time.

  Sawyer gripped his hips, smoothed his hands up his back. His touch seared through Ash’s sh
irt to send waves of warmth and awareness over his skin. His moan leaked around the edge of their lips, longing creeping closer.

  He chased Sawyer’s mouth when he eased away until he was left with only air and a rasping craving to fall into whatever Sawyer offered. To forget his own needs and wants. His self-preservation instincts could take a flying leap into the hell that waited for him right here.

  Sawyer rolled his temple over Ash’s, lips ghosting down his jaw to nip at his earlobe. Goosebumps fled down his neck in a race to his puckering nipples. How did a simple breath turn him on so much? He was surrounded by Sawyer, his scent filling his nose, arms encircling his waist, legs threaded with his. And it was still not enough.

  “You scare the hell out of me.” The breathy admission floated over his ear and raced to his heart. “I should walk out and never look back.” Bites down his neck, under his chin, each one threatening to tear Ash apart. “But I can’t make myself do it, and I have no idea why.”

  Ash captured his mouth in another long kiss, blood pounding his ears with every rapid beat of his heart. Sawyer’s confession was a leap of faith he grasped and held on to.

  He didn’t want to break the spell by overthinking whatever was building between them—if anything. It could be nothing more than lust and compatible kinks, like Sawyer had once said. If it was, then he’d go with it until the newness faded. Until then, he’d take everything he was given.

  And still ask for more.

  Sawyer broke away, hand trailing down his arm to lace their fingers together. The touch spoke of intimacy and of what he couldn’t seem to say.

  He led Sawyer through the house, up the stairs to his bedroom, hands still clasped, words unsaid. The room was lit in that hazy fading dimness of blue and gray that played with Ash’s vision. But he didn’t need to see anything except Sawyer.

  He set his glasses on the nightstand, the world going fuzzy around the edges. Then Sawyer was there, filling his sight and taking his mouth in a kiss loaded with promises. He couldn’t get close enough, touch enough, fill himself enough with everything that was Sawyer.

  Give enough of himself back.

  He found skin, slid his palms over Sawyer’s chest and around his back until his shirt was bunched beneath his armpits. Sawyer yanked the ends of Ash’s shirt from his belt, breaths panting over his until he shoved back, glaring down Ash’s front.

  “Why do you have buttons?” Confusion wrinkled his brow as he fumbled the bottom button through the hole. “What happened to the polo shirts?”

  Ash brushed his fingers over the lines on Sawyer’s brow, too amused to help. “I felt like wearing this today.”

  Sawyer flung his hands up, stepping away. “Then you take care of those.” He jerked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “I’ll be waiting in bed when you’re ready.” His shorts and briefs dropped to the ground a second later, and then he was on the bed. The mattress bounced when he flopped back, legs spread wide, dick firm and thick on his lower abdomen.

  Damn, Ash wanted to see that better. He squinted at Sawyer, undressing quickly so he could crawl over the bed to cage Sawyer beneath him.

  His lips curled in that dimpled smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Are you going to ravish me now?”

  As good as that sounded, it wasn’t what he wanted. But he didn’t answer. Not verbally, at least.

  He dipped, licked a long line up the length of Sawyer’s dick before sucking it down.

  “Fuck.”

  Sawyer jerked up, pelvis hitching, but Ash shoved him down. His girth filled Ash’s mouth, the rich warm taste of dick and man swarming his senses. The weight pressed on his tongue, each plunge down stretching his lips until they protested. He didn’t care, though. The discomfort was part of the pleasure.

  A quick grunt followed by a long groan provided a perfect backdrop to his soft slurps. He slowed, traced his tongue around the capped head, flicked the sensitive spot on the underside. Sawyer’s tremble flowed into Ash, each little shake a validation of what he could give. Proof that inflicting pain wasn’t his only value. The little murmurs and choked gasps were just as thrilling. Interesting in their uniqueness, just like the cries and screams.

  He needled his tongue into the slit on top, the tangy hints of pre-come sliding down his throat. There were so many ways to inflict pain through a man’s urethra. He’d executed a large majority of them, but this was for pleasure. To entice and play in a manner that could inflict its own type of torment.

  “Damn, Asher,” Sawyer mumbled, his fingers threading into Ash’s hair. “That’s…”

  Ash pulled off, glanced up to catch the molten gaze staring down at him. He didn’t need his glasses to see the passion that darkened Sawyer’s eyes or the parted lips and heavy eyelids. Just like with the pain, Sawyer didn’t resist the sensations. He embraced them all, wholly in the moment.

  The wonder of that rare quality sank into Ash with the awe it deserved. He trailed his fingers down, the tips grazing over the scars on Sawyer’s thighs. How had it felt when he’d inflicted them? When did he learn the art of breathing with the pain, of processing the signals into something other than excruciating or intolerable?

  Where did he store all those feelings? Did they ever burst free? Would anything—anyone—ever reach deep enough to break him out of the pain?

  Ash was on his back, breath trapped, eyes wide before he knew what had happened. Sawyer hovered over him, smirk blazing. That dimple got him every time. It hid and revealed so much at once.

  “You were taking too long,” Sawyer explained in a smoky tone that crawled through Ash’s groin.

  “To do what?”

  “Anything.”

  He descended then, his kiss leaving no room for more questions. Ash didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but getting closer. Feeling instead of thinking. Experiencing skin on skin, with all that strength surrounding him. Holding him.

  Taking whatever he wanted.

  Ash gave himself over to Sawyer. Let go of his thoughts and fell into the pleasure of simply being.

  Chapter 16

  This was so good. Better than anything Sawyer had ever let himself have. The touch, heat, closeness he shouldn’t want. Shouldn’t be scrambling to get more of.

  He plundered Asher’s mouth, sucking and licking until the need for air forced him to break away. But he couldn’t stop kissing—lines over his jaw, down his neck, past his chest. Asher’s nipple tickled his tongue and he lingered over it, flicked and nipped until it was a hard nub. Then he did the same to the other. Asher’s moans and soft gasps urged him on, each sound a call for more.

  He’d never been this crazed over a guy. For sex. For pleasure. The warmth flooding him was slow and heated, dizzying with its threat to overtake him completely. But he didn’t get lost in the feelings. He didn’t bury the sensations when he rode the pain, and he couldn’t now. So he embraced the heated high and dizzying rush and noted every place that yanked an inhalation or soft moan from Asher.

  A light dusting of hair spread over Asher’s chest in dark curls that proclaimed his heritage. Sawyer loved the feel of it under his fingers, against his lips. The desire to slow down and appreciate every second, every inch of Asher was undermined by the urgency building in his groin. His dick was hard and ready, balls heavy.

  “Supplies,” he mumbled over Asher’s abdomen, the small dips and ridges enticing him to find each one. “We need the damn supplies.”

  Asher stretched to the side and he followed, sliding kisses over his ribs until he got distracted by the soft arch of Asher’s ass. He grabbed it in the next instant, hand filled by the muscle.

  “Fuck,” Asher swore, but it came out low and loaded with enjoyment. “I can’t rea—”

  Sawyer forgot about the supplies and shoved Asher the rest of the way over until he had full access to his ass. He worked out, and it was evident in the firm globes. Sawyer bit and licked each one, amazed at his fascination and the wonder lighting him up. He’d never felt anything li
ke this before.

  Sex was an act. He fucked and got off when the itch drove him or the top wanted it. But exploring and lingering was completely different. Wanting to discover everything while driving Asher wild excited him more than any whip or cane.

  He spread Asher’s ass cheeks and found his hole. The pucker clenched, fluttered with Asher’s short breaths. He’d never done this. Had never wanted to get this intimate. He did now, though, curiosity and desire urging him forward. The hole flexed under his tongue, the circle contracting when he poked at it.

  “Sawyer.” Asher ground his name into the pillow, ass raising as he tucked his legs beneath him. “Fuck me.”

  “Soon,” he mumbled. When he was done here.

  The heavy musk of arousal and man burned over his senses, the deep taste distinctive yet not. Excitement buzzed through his system, nipping at the edge of his brain. It prickled over his skin and heightened with every touch.

  He worked the hole, driven by a need to break through, to push Asher, but also to hear his strangled groans. His needy whimpers. The urgency of his growls. And then to shove back.

  Spit slicked his cheeks, his whiskers rubbing Asher’s tender skin pink. He didn’t relent, though, not until the muscles gave and the tip of his tongue wiggled into the tight hole. Success sprang down his spine, and he reared up gasping for air.

  Asher sank into the mattress, back heaving with each breath. He turned his head to peer at Sawyer over his shoulder. “Will you fuck me now?” The sultry expression was amplified by his messed hair and the sheen of perspiration that gleamed over his back.

  Sawyer’s grin spread so wide it pulled on his cheeks. He shook his hair out of his eyes and leaned over him to steal a kiss from those pouty lips. Asher welcomed him in, feasting on his mouth until Sawyer forced himself to break free.

  His dick grazed over the smooth surface of Asher’s back, nudged down the wet crease. He closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure racing into his balls before spreading out. Damn. The sweetness of it, the slow tease that trembled over his chest and sank into his heart almost did him in. But he wanted to be closer. Wanted to be completely connected to Asher in the only way he could safely allow himself to be.