We make our way outside, and I feel Colt’s eyes on us the entire time.
Shit.That was close.
6
COLT
Well, that's fucking great. I just found out that Joaquin curses in Spanish when he comes in Warwick's perfect ass.
Sisko was standing outside the stallion barn, eating some flowers that I'm absolutely positive he shouldn't have been, just chilling like nothing was wrong. Trip really thought he’d figured out the exact lock system to keep Sisko in his stall, but…evidence suggests otherwise.
Anyway, I heard them as soon as I opened the barn door.
I don't know why I had to stay. I don't know why I had to listen to what those two sound like together. I don't know why I decided it was a good idea to compare what went on between those two and what went on between Warwick and me just a few days prior.
Of course, comparison is a fool’s game, designed to make me feel like shit about myself. Joaquin was in charge, and it was exactly what Warwick wanted.ThatI could tell right away.
I look down and scuff my size-thirteen boots.
Such a waste,some twink once told me.
It's hard to find guys bigger than me, so I'm fine with being topped by smaller men, even very small men, but I'll never forget that guy’s look. He'd wanted to be taken apart by a big bear of a guy, railed until he couldn't move. Unfortunately, that's what I like too.
I’ve made exceptions, of course, but something about his judgy attitude turned me off from even trying.
Based on Warwick’s response to Joaquin’s authority, I hafta assume he was only ever being nice to me.Someone has to pity-fuck the fat bottom.
Okay,stop it,Colt.
I swear I usually feel pretty good about what I bring to the table, butfuck. I feel like a big doughy two-year-old next to those two stupidly handsome Zaddies. I had a brief, crazy impulse to walk in on them and just push my way into the scrum, but then I got all self-conscious.
When they walked out—when Wick saw me—he looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Not exactly sorry, just a little surprised.
And, of course, he didn’t do anything wrong. Not really. He wouldn’t—that’s just not his style. We don’t have any agreements with one another, we’re not exclusive—we won’t ever be—and my butt-hurt feelings are completely and totally my own fucking fault.
I mean, it sucks that I've got a boss who has a definite favorite. He’s probably taken one look at me and decided I’m completely worthless. No doubt he's just keeping me on board because of the family connection.
Okay, Colt. Really, stop it, right now.
I pause my swirling thoughts and take a few deep breaths, remembering to release my jaw.
I’ve worked too damn hard to accept my worth to let this little shit show derail me. I decided a long time ago that I was just going to take care of myself and accept that I’m a bigger guy and not assign other people’s judgments as truth.
Taking it a step further, I decide right here and now that I’m not going to assume anyone’s intentions either. The truth is, I don’t know how those men feel about me, and I’m not about to feel bad about myself based on an assumption.
Hell, none of my lovers have ever complained, and I remind myself that those weren’t pity fucks I was pulling on the road night after night. And I know for a fact that Wick is completely, unabashedly turned on by me. While I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for freckles, he has never once been shy about worshipping my frecklesandmy belly.
Furthermore, even if he didn’t like what I’ve got,I do.Besides, heartbroken and turned on issonot a good look, and my ass is too fat and sexy to be worried about the one man I can’t have.
Okay, good. Let’s pull ourselves together, Colt.
I go into Sisko’s stall, and he nudges the side of my head.
“Shut up. I'm notthatpathetic,” I say, talking to a horse because that's where I am now.
He nudges my head again and snuffles through my hair.
“Don't act like you like me. You just escaped.”
