With no room to put the tire back in the trunk if the man intended for his things to fit, Arlo yanked the rubber off the rim and cast it aside, making a mental note to retrieve it once the storm was over. He put the rim in the trunk along with the jack and the tire iron, shocked when the man put a hand out to stop him when he went to help load his belongings.
“You don’t have to keep getting drenched,” the man said, clearly straining to make himself heard above the storm. “You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you again.”
“I’m not gonna leave you to struggle with this shit alone,” Arlo told him, stepping around the hand to grab the bigger box. The quicker he got this poor guy off the side of the road and back into the safety of his vehicle, the safer he’d be. Maybe then Arlo’s nerves could stop tingling, because there was something about him, something that made Arlo want to escort him wherever he was going, just to make sure he got there safely.
Shaking off the feeling, ‘cause dammit, he’d sworn he felt the same about Taggart the other day at the club, he refocused on the task.
They loaded the last of his things and Arlo slammed the trunk a little harder than necessary, but he needed to get away from the nagging feeling and get his shit together, as well as a fresh set of clothes, before he dropped in on the hacker. The man waved and hurried to the driver’s seat, thanking him again as Arlo turned and headed for his vehicle, that nagging feeling growing as he watched the taillights pull away.
Damnit all, he needed to get his shit together. The last thing anyone needed was a badass enforcer falling apart all over the place. Well, falling apart more than he already had since that day in the mountains at finding all those lost little lives.
It was loneliness, that was all it was. Loneliness and longing, a desire to hold someone gently in his arms, rather than use his strength to do violence. Maybe he needed to take a day just to sit in the playroom and let the littles crawl all over him. It might be just what he needed to bandage his wounded soul and see him through the next leg of the journey to bring justice to those who’d done so much harm to their own community.
Taggart
He ran around his home, throwing things into cupboards and hiding the mess as best as he could while constantly listening out for the sound of cars. He lived a little ways out of town in a house that he’d bought. Financial independence was more attractive to some daddies that had shown interest in him in the past. Sad but true.
Would Arlo be the same? Did it matter when they were mates? Not that Arlo had shown any sign he’d felt anything the way Taggart had.
He groaned and sighed defeatedly, his shoulders slumping as he glanced around his living room, coming out of the kitchen, which at least didn’t reveal that he didn’t like to clean up after himself anymore. The place was comfy, he supposed, or it was to him.
He had a big couch pushed back against a wall, one that he could easily stretch out on that had several blankies on the back of it so he could snuggle in front of the huge cinematic TV that was mounted on the opposite wall. It had all the channels, but he used it for cartoons and movies. Instead of having the seats to go with the couch, he’d opted for large bean bags in rainbow colors. There was a table with four chairs that didn’t match in the room's corner that held an array of things he liked to play with.He liked things mismatched. Would Arlo think it was too much like a color explosion? Was he wasting his time worrying?
Another sigh came as he grabbed the empty beakers off the coffee table sitting in the middle of the room on a bright purple rug, heading back into the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher.
He’d barely shut the door and switched it on when the doorbell rang, making the dance party ramp up in his belly that hadn’t abated since he’d seen Arlo. He rubbed his tummy and ran-skidded to the front door, barely taking a second to catch his breath before yanking open the door, going for a sassy grin.
Then his mouth fell open as he gawked at the drenched man in front of him. Clearly he’d missed the storm that was raging outside his window. It wasn’t unusual for Taggart not to notice such things when he got all up inside his head. What it meant was that whatever was in his head usually popped right out, like now. “You’re soaking wet!” he exclaimed, his gaze traveling down the mountain of muscles covered in clingy material. He blushed at how stupid he was being, except his gaze caught on what he’d not been able to get more than a quick glance at.
Rain-soaked denim cupped the large bulge, and Taggart’s vivid imagination had no problem with how his mouth would feel wrapped around what was tucked inside. He ran his tongue over his teeth before he brought his thumb to his lips and sucked on it to prevent him from doing something silly—asking for Daddy to let him use his cock as his sucky.
“I am… stopped to help a dude change a tire,” Arlo rumbled as he placed a finger under Taggart’s chin, lifting it to make him look up. “Was gonna change, but I’d have just gotten drenched again getting in and out of the SUV.”
Their gazes met, and Taggart’s wide eyes held Arlo’s. Emotions made the dark pools staring back at him appear fathomless. Taggart wanted to dive in. The slight touch of Arlo’s fingerbrushing under his chin sent a current through Taggart’s entire body. “I… we…” he mumbled around his thumb.Spit it out!
“We’re—”
“Mates,” Taggart breathed out, his dribbly thumb popping out of his mouth when he was helpless to stop himself from interrupting when his mind was a whirring dervish.
Chapter Two
Soren
Groaning, he flopped naked across the motel bed, having opted to just pay for the extra day's rental on the car so he didn’t have to worry about unpacking in the rain. He could worry about that, and apartment hunting tomorrow. He’d already amassed an unfortunately truncated list of locations to try, but with any luck, there would be more in the local newspaper. If this place even had a newspaper.
Shit, he’d forgotten to check.
Another thing to put on the checklist for morning, when he hoped the sun would be out, or he’d be forced to rearrange his itinerary and budget yet again. He really needed one of the places he’d spotted online to pan out.
Speaking of which, it was only three o’clock. Despite how dark the sky was, thanks to all the storm clouds hovering, he could still make a few phone calls once his phone had charged a little. He had dry clothes in his bag to put on tomorrow and his wet ones had been so soaked he’d just gone ahead and washed them in the shower, wrung them out and hung them over the shower rod to drip into the tub while they dried. It would do until he could find the laundromat and wash the rest of the clothes he’d dirtied up on his journey.
It was a hell of a way to land in a new place, looking like a sodden cat who’d narrowly avoided being swept into a storm gutter. He’d feared being turned away at the motel, but the older lady behind the counter had just given him a kind smile and the keys to the room after he’d presented his debit card. It had been a relief, though the one thing he hadn’t been able to enjoy fully was the hot shower he’d stepped into. As much as it had warmed his exhausted, shivering body, it had also washed away the lingering scent of the man from the road.
A rather delicious, enticing scent that had left his blood singing and his inner bird eager to tweet out a happy tune. He’d smelled a little like a rhino, but Soren hadn’t been certain due to the heaviness of the rain.
The thought of asking him had been terrifying, especially after the way he’d appeared like a ginormous shadow of goodwill and not only changed the tire, but helped move everything back into the trunk, too. Well, more than helped. He’d accomplished the task far quicker than Soren ever would have been able to manage. Thank the fates that everything of any importance had been in totes. The few boxes he’d taped to hell to keep thingsfrom spilling out. The tape would have helped keep some of the rain out, and what was in there—his pots and pans, along with a wide assortment of cooking implements—wouldn’t have gotten damaged by the rain.
And that was why a final walkthrough was so important. Because even when he’d sworn he’d gotten everything, he’d proven himself wrong. At least he hadn’t found out at this end where it would have been too late to do anything but replace them. They were stoneware too, one of the few things he splurged on. Cooking was therapeutic for him. Even when he only had himself to feed, he enjoyed taking the time to carefully dice, season, mix and fold ingredients in to create layers of flavors. And meals he’d never have been able to afford to eat if he weren’t making them in his own kitchen. It always amazed him how many things one could do with the same ingredients. Sometimes, to keep things interesting and challenge himself, he limited himself to bulk amounts of the same ingredients, just so he could turn them into different dishes throughout the day.
