Linc shook his head even though Wyatt couldn’t see the gesture. “Rejecting you? How many times have you come today? This week? The last twenty days?”
“You know what I mean. It’s not the same thing. Why won’t you fuck me?” Wyatt’s voice was thick like he was choking on his words. “Is it ’cause I’m like… damaged goods?”
Linc’s mouth fell open, grateful Wyatt wasn’t looking at him. “What the fuck are you talking about? Damaged… what?”
His words went stony, distant. “It’s ’cause you know what he did, don’t you? You saw how he looked at me… what he wanted. You know he did things to me, a lot of things… and that I… liked it sometimes… and now you don’t want me that way.”
Rage swelled behind Linc’s ribcage until he was certain it would burst free of his chest, its own living entity. His pulse throbbed in his ears. He’d suspected that Victor fuck was using his little conversion camp to bilk rich guys out of their money, and he figured the guy was probably a closet case like most of those sanctimonious pricks… but he hadn’t understood the full extent of what Wyatt was getting at the other night. Maybe he should have. The trauma necessary for a person’s body to physically shut down at the idea of reliving a past injury, to protect itself even when Wyatt’s conscious brain wanted otherwise… it had to be bad. Linc still didn’t know the specifics, but it must have been awful enough to leave a permanent scar in Wyatt’s head and on his heart.
“Whatever,” Wyatt muttered, trying to stand.
Linc wrapped both arms around Wyatt’s chest, barring him from moving. “Jesus, Wyatt. No. That’s… no. How could you ever fucking think that? Whatever he did to you, that’s on him. That’s his burden, his fucking sin that he’ll have to pay for eventually.” At least, if Linc had anything to say about it. “You did nothing wrong. Even if your body responded, you did nothing wrong. None of this was your fault. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?” he asked, clearly bewildered.
Fuck. Linc couldn’t unload all his conflicted feelings on Wyatt, not when he was this raw and vulnerable. But he couldn’t lie to him. He focused on Wyatt’s specific question. “Because I’m worried about you… about what that step might do to you,” Linc answered honestly.
Wyatt’s nostrils flared. “Do to me? Do to me?” Wyatt gave a jagged laugh. “Your dick is pretty fucking impressive, Linc, but I don’t think it will change me as a person.”
Linc smiled despite himself but didn’t acknowledge the jab. “You haven’t been the same since your father’s campaign dinner. Something about seeing—”
“Don’t. Don’t say his name again,” Wyatt interjected.
“That’s what I mean. Ten days ago, you broke out in a cold sweat if my hands went anywhere near your ass. Now, it’s like you can’t come without my fingers inside you even if it means hurting yourself. It’s like you’re trying to prove something… to him, to yourself… I don’t know, but I don’t want you to look back and regret this… to regret us.”
Wyatt broke free of Linc’s arms to spin around, sloshing water over the sides of the tub. “I finally manage to do something for myself. I manage to… get past this mental fuckery… and now you’re making me feel bad about liking your fingers inside me? About me wanting to be with you in every way? Like, you have to know I wanted to fuck you the day we met but my body just wouldn’t let me. Now that I’m over that, you’re using it against me. What the fuck?”
Linc shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying—”
“Then what the fuck are you saying? Because it sounds like you’re saying you only want me when I’m broken and not when I’m getting better.”
Linc’s brows shot upward. “That’s not true at all and you know it. I don’t think you are getting better. I think you’ve just found a new way to bury your trauma.”
Wyatt scoffed. “I’m not the one who tried to strangle somebody in their sleep. Worry about your own trauma, GI Joe.”
Well, this was going well. Maybe Linc should have just kept his mouth shut. “Tell me why you want me inside you.”
Wyatt’s whole face turned scarlet. “I think the reason should be obvious.”
“Then tell me.”
He turned away from Linc, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because I do.”
Linc dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll ask an easier question. We have months until I leave. Why are you so obsessed with doing this right now?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Time is flying by. It’s going so fast I feel like I’m missing everything. I’m going to blink, and you’ll be gone, and I’ll be back to living my father’s life and it will all be over.”
Linc closed his eyes, pressing his chin to Wyatt’s hair. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m doing this to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection,” Wyatt snapped.
Linc pressed his lips to Wyatt’s ear. “No? Then why call me Daddy? Isn’t it my job to protect you, to take care of you, to know what you need even if it’s not what you want? To reward you for being good and discipline you when you’re bad?”
Wyatt released a shuddery sigh, his hands running along Linc’s arms. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Linc growled. “Say it.”
Wyatt melted against him. “Yes, Daddy.”
