by Cara Dee
After taking a sip of my soda, I scooted closer to River and hugged my knees to my chest.
At the moment, Colt and Daddy were just tinkering and trying to decide on the next song.
“Daddy, you have a more pronounced accent now,” I noted.
He smirked faintly and eyed River.
“We lost our accents years ago,” River murmured. “Comes out when we’re drunk, basically.” And when Daddy was playing.
“You’re not from NoVa?” I’d thought they were local, despite years living in all sorts of countries. I’d learned that they had lived on all the major continents.
“We have four proper Southerners in our group of friends,” Colt informed me. “These two—even though they don’t always deserve to bear the title—Walker, and yours truly.”
Colt was the most obvious one. Walker—well, to be honest, I hadn’t heard much from him before River had put headphones on me, but I did remember he’d sounded more Southern than anything else.
River smiled and fished out his smokes. “We’re from the backwoods of Virginia. Small no-name place near Roanoke.”
“Then we moved to Nashville when we were four,” Reese said.
River lit up two cigarettes. “To Charlotte when we were nine.” He handed me one of the smokes, and I snuck a sheepish grin at Daddy, who narrowed his eyes playfully.
I’d been good all day, though!
“And to Virginia Beach before high school,” Daddy finished.
Damn. “That’s a lot of moving around.”
Suddenly, a bunch of questions piled up. I wanted to know about their childhood.
“What’s the improper South, then?” River asked Colt.
Colt grinned. “Anythin’ north of Richmond. And Florida, of course.”
I snickered and took a drag from my smoke.
“Of course,” Daddy agreed with a laugh. “That settles the next song.” He played the first notes of a new song, and Colt recognized it right away.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the lyrics. It was a funny song about being rednecker than others. About Slim Jims, dirt roads, hauling hay, and loud trucks.
Daddy looked happy. I couldn’t stop smiling at him, like I was some idiot. He was just so beautiful and sexy and everything.
Keeping my voice down, I spoke without disturbing our entertainment.
“What made you move around so much growing up?” I asked River.
“Our mother, for the most part,” he replied quietly. “She was a teacher, and she had to go where the jobs were.”
Made sense. “She was a teacher?”
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “She died of cancer when we were sixteen.”
Fuck. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and we weren’t always on good terms.” He leaned over and kissed my shoulder. “Similar story with Pop. He’s a long-hauler, still alive, but we don’t talk.” His smile turned rueful. “We all loved one another—we just didn’t like each other very much. It was all right when we were still kids, but as we grew up and didn’t wanna separate our beds, Pop got angry.”
He might say it with a dose of humor, but I saw through it. It wasn’t funny at all.
Having gotten to know the Tenley twins more, I saw their bond as something to cherish. It was beautiful and messy and incomprehensible, at the same time as it was the simplest form of the purest love I’d ever witnessed.
I’d met twins who wore the same clothes, twins who wanted to be as independent and unique as possible, and then these two. They didn’t compare. They were two halves of a whole, and it wasn’t even about sex. They needed each other like air. Just like I didn’t leave the house without my lungs, they didn’t stray far from each other either, because they couldn’t.
“I’m sorry they didn’t understand you,” I murmured.
He hummed and watched me as he inhaled from his smoke. “Things got better when we moved in with our grandmother in Virginia Beach. She didn’t understand either, but she accepted easily. Judgment is for the Lord, she used to say.”
I smiled. “Is she still around?”
“Afraid not, but she was almost ninety when she passed a couple years ago,” he answered. “Good woman. Every night before she went to bed, she had a couple fingers of whiskey as she read from the Bible.” He paused and grinned slightly. “She caught us smoking weed once. Said, ‘Least you coulda shared it with me, ya idjits.’”
I chuckled under my breath.
“Your turn, pup.” He nudged his elbow to my shoulder. “Any extended family to visit on holidays?”
I shook my head. “Not really—except for a couple cousins on Dad’s side that we see very rarely.” I took a final drag from the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. “Significantly more family members alive on my mom’s side, but they’re all shitheads. Except for Aunt Mel. She and Mom kind of divorced the whole family after they took my biological dad’s side when Mom wanted to leave him.” This was mostly crap I’d heard years later. I’d been too young to understand much at the time. “Never mind that he was a gambling alcoholic who stole from her. She was in the wrong for walking out, apparently.”
“Definitely shitheads.” River nodded in agreement and stubbed out his smoke too. “World’s full of ’em.”
Yeah. To the point where, when you met two people who were the opposite, one might get so excited that he accidentally blurted it out to his aunt.
I’d managed to keep my mouth shut last weekend, but this morning, I’d caved. She’d witnessed one too many of my stupid grins that I’d ended up awkwardly confessing I was “sort of seeing two men,” and then I’d tried to downplay it as “but it’s just a kink thing,” and she hadn’t bought it.
I didn’t buy it either.
In a short period of time, River and Reese had opened up a new world for me, one I wanted to live in forever. With them. Two coveted Sadists who typically didn’t do the whole relationship thing.
With the way they were acting with me, though, it was impossible not to hold out hope that maybe I was different. That maybe this could be more than kink.
River draped his arm along the back of the sofa as Colt and Daddy eased into a familiar song.
I leaned against River’s side and pulled his arm down my chest.
He kissed the top of my head.
Reese’s voice was so beautiful. His fingers plucked at the strings with ease and years of practice, and together with Colt, he gave “Hallelujah” a slow country twist with their sexy, almost lazy, drawl.
My stomach flipped and tightened when Daddy lifted his gaze to me. I got stuck. I couldn’t look away. It was fucking crazy. I was screwed. It literally felt like they’d ruined me for all others.
I exhaled unsteadily and hugged River’s arm to me.
“Time to wake up, little one.”
“Nooo, I disagree.” I threw an arm over my face and tried to go back to sleep.
The downside of working out with Daddy was that he woke up so damn early, which was weird since he also went to bed very late.
“Whether you disagree or not is irrelevant.” He pulled away the duvet from me and started leaving a trail of kisses down my chest. “Wanna tell Daddy what got into you last night?”
I grinned sleepily and scrubbed my hands over my face. “River got into me.”
River exhaled a drowsy chuckle, then groaned into his pillow. “Fuck both of you. I’m tryna sleep.”
“Before you do, check out my neck,” Daddy said. “Do I have any scratches?”
That caused both River and me to lift our heads from our pillows and squint down at Daddy.
Oh crap. Okay, it was possible I’d lost my composure last night when we came back to the cabin. I’d all but attacked Daddy, and I’d dragged River with me. It’d ended with me on all fours over Daddy, him on his back, and River behind me.
Now Daddy had three impressive scratch marks on the side of his neck.
“My bad.” I smiled sheepishly. �
�Sorry.”
He smiled and shook his head, and he got comfortable between my legs. I didn’t mind at all! “I love it when you don’t hold back.”
I bit my lip as he sucked my semihard cock into his mouth. Part of me wanted to collapse against the pillow and just enjoy it, but I couldn’t. I had to see. He was so fucking good at it.
Instead, I propped myself up on my elbows and stared unabashedly.
I guess River wanted to watch too, because he rolled onto his side and kissed my shoulder, and he threaded his fingers through Daddy’s hair to guide his movements. I sucked in a breath and tensed up as pleasure rushed through me.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” River murmured.
I nodded jerkily. “S-so good. He doesn’t choke like I do sometimes.”
River hummed and dropped a kiss to my jaw. “Maybe I’ve given him a lot of practice.”
I whimpered and turned to him, kissing him hungrily for planting those images in my head. I was obsessed with their lovely filth.
“We like it when our little boy chokes, though.” He took another deep, passionate kiss, then gripped my chin and made me face Daddy. “I’ll give you sixty seconds. If you haven’t come by then, you won’t get another chance until tonight when Reese defeats you in the cage.”
A strangled noise escaped my throat, part growl, part plea. Daddy wasn’t going to fucking win tonight. He was, on the other hand, definitely gonna get me off soon, because holy fuck. The head of my cock rubbed against the back of his throat, and he sucked me so hard that I almost lost it right then and there.
I started panting.
When he cupped my balls and squeezed them firmly, I choked on a gasp, and the pain caused me to spiral out of control. I pushed my cock deeper into his mouth and tensed up. So close, so close, so close.
“Daddy,” I groaned breathlessly.
He hummed and sucked on the tip. “That was a full minute, right?”
“Yup,” River replied.
Wha…?
I swallowed dryly and hauled in a much-needed breath, and I didn’t get it. It couldn’t be—I mean, it couldn’t have gone—
“Time for our run then, sweetheart.” Daddy gave the head of my cock a quick kiss before he rolled off the bed.
My mouth popped open.
You gotta be fucking kidding me!
“No!” I blurted out, seriously desperate. “Get back here! Get back here right now!”
Daddy rumbled a laugh and stepped into a pair of underwear. “That’s cute, thinking you can boss me around.”
“There’s no way a minute went by!” I yelled.
River sat up on the edge of the bed, glancing back at me with way too much mirth in his eyes. “Can you prove that?”
Oh, motherf—!
I gnashed my teeth so hard I thought they might break.
Goddamn Sadists!
“I feel like this is just plain arrogance and taunting,” I said, grabbing another cable tie.
Final preparations for tonight’s event were in full swing, and Kit and I had been tasked with attaching lube dispensers in the cages. Since they shouldn’t be in the way during fights, we were strapping them to a couple of bars so that the dispensers could be turned outside the cage too.
“I dunno.” Kit shrugged and squinted in the sun. “Colt always gets the upper hand over me, so I’m fine with them placing lube all over the damn place. If they’re gonna win every time, might as well make the loss as comfortable as possible.”
But I wasn’t going to lose.
“Reese won’t defeat me,” I responded. After attaching the cable tie around the neck of the lube bottle, I bent down and grabbed one more tie from the bag on the floor.
“You seem confident,” Kit noted carefully. He assisted me by cutting off the excess plastic and making sure the thin foam strips we’d covered the insides of the bars with didn’t get damaged.
I replied as I checked and rechecked the foam strips along the bars, running my fingers up and down them and making sure the adhesive worked everywhere. “My dad trained me. He was a two-time national champion in kung fu and an international champion in tae kwon do. Add years of training in judo, Krav Maga, and combat sambo to that. Martial arts were his passion.”
He’d loved his job too, but he’d built a whole community around martial arts. Getting kids off the streets and into his training center had brought our family together at tournaments and late-night classes, with everyone shouldering a role.
“I never met anyone who could defeat him,” I went on. “And I became his official student when I was seven. By the time I was twenty, he was the only one I couldn’t take on and win.” Fuck, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.
I knew I sounded like a pathetic little boy who viewed his father as a hero—like most kids did.
“Anyway.” I cleared my throat and glanced up toward the house. “We should go see if there’s anything else we can do.”
In the kitchen of the main house, Tate and I poured approximately fifteen bowls of chips and peanuts, and there was plenty left for refills too. The two fridges were packed with soda, beer, water, and freaking juice boxes, and that was just out here. We’d already helped Colt and Penelope restock the bar as well as the supply shack next to the patio.
They didn’t mess around for these events.
I had an unfunny feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it had to be nerves. I told myself it was nerves. It was the first time I was joining a major event with this community, and I was in a kink triad with the two men who’d started it all.
River and Reese poured their souls into this place.
“All right, what’s left to do?” I threw away the last of the empty chips bags in the trash, then turned to Tate. He’d just finished putting plastic wrap over the snack bowls.
The cages were ready, the playlist was set in the club area, the bar was stocked, the seating areas on the patio—and some of the loungers around the pool—were prepared. All the cushions had been flipped and dusted off, some blankets had been added for when darkness fell, and mosquito-repelling candles had been placed on all the tables. There was even a first aid station set up on the porch of the southern cabin, which was closest to the fighting cages.
These people thought of everything.
“I’m not sure.” Tate eyed the list we’d been given. “Kit took care of the Little Bar, right?”
I nodded and threw a glance at the clock on the wall. River had told me he wanted me ready at his side at six PM, which gave me two hours, and all I had to do to “prepare” was shower and pull on a pair of black briefs. It would be my outfit until it was time to fight.
The door to the kitchen opened, and Reese poked his head in.
“Shay, you can come with me.”
“Okay. We’re kind of done here,” I said.
Reese looked over at Tate. “Luke’s on the patio. If there’s more to do, he’ll know.”
Tate offered a two-finger salute, and I followed Reese out—and apparently we were heading to the office to the right.
He was acting very “business.” He gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk while he walked behind it, and there was no Daddy smile on his face.
“Everything okay?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
He sat down in his desk chair and got straight to it. “It goes without saying that friends should value one another’s privacy and integrity, but we like to put safety first here. That’s why we have a good little tradition in our community where, if someone is worried about their friend, they can go to their Dom or another person in charge, and they can voice those worries.”
I frowned in confusion and sat down.
“It’s something we encourage,” he went on. “Anything to prevent unsafe play or unknown triggers—for example.”
“All right,” I replied slowly. I had no idea what he was getting at.
He leaned back in his seat, planting an elbow along the armrest and scratching his
jaw. “Sweetheart, I need a good reason not to cancel our fight tonight,” he said. My eyebrows flew up. Why would he…? “I know that you’re a fantastic and highly trained fighter, but that’s not where your assertiveness stems from. Is it?”
I narrowed my eyes and replayed his words from the beginning. Encouraging others to come forth with worries… Safety first. It was Kit. He’d said something to Reese—or to one of his Doms, who’d then gone to Reese.
“I’m worried, Shay, how you would react if you lost.”
“That won’t happen,” I replied quickly. As if on autopilot.
Reese didn’t respond at first. He just watched me, and it was rapidly becoming unnerving. Something rattled in the back of my mind, and instinct told me to fight against it. To make sure whatever rattled was never unleashed from its box or whatever.
“Martial arts,” he said pensively. “I bet your father studied samurai traditions too.”
“Yes?” I cocked my head. “He was part Japanese and loved history. So?”
He shook his head. “It’s more than that. Samurai didn’t believe in defeat—in the sense that it wasn’t an option for a man or woman who wanted to die with their dignity intact. They’d rather die by their own sword. There was honor in that.” He paused. “I can’t in good conscience fight you if you’ve never considered the possibility that your opponent might be stronger than you. But more than that, I won’t fight you if you share even an ounce of that mentality, because it means you might rather put yourself at higher risk than lose. And this isn’t a matter of life and death, little one. This is a BDSM event.”
I pressed my lips together in a thin line. My dad had obviously not taught his students to die by their own sword, regardless of the type of martial arts he was teaching. It was unethical. That said…he’d taught us how to, if needed, sacrifice a little to win a lot. It meant I could put myself in a position that wasn’t entirely safe, and I might end up harmed, but harmed was better than dead. Again, it depended on the style. Martial arts were a very mixed bag of deadly combat and ceremonial pedagogies.
“If you want me to throw the fight, just say so,” I said. “I have no issues keeping shit playful.”