Without another word he removed the used condom from Scott’s cock. Scott didn’t say a thing as Joe cleaned him up. When Joe guided him to lie down on the bed, Scott followed his every hint with his usual clumsy willingness, but his brain really didn’t seem to be taking any part in the proceedings.
It was only when they lay together that Joe finally undid Scott’s cuffs and released his hands.
Moving with obvious caution, Scott brought both his arms in front of his body and warily worked the blood-flow back through them. Within a minute, one hand came to rest against Joe’s chest as he curled in closer to him.
Topping really hadn’t made him the least bit toppy, but it had given him a strange kind of confidence. Joe was sure Scott would never have dared to snuggle that way at the end of any of their previous scenes—not without a clear order.
Joe happily welcomed Scott into his embrace and, content that all was well with the world, quickly began to doze.
* * * * *
Joe had been fast asleep for almost an hour now.
Scott knew that, if he had any sense, he’d have been as quick to follow Joe’s lead in that as he was in everything else. It was already stupid o’clock in the morning. Most of Scott was perfectly willing to curl up and simply forget about anything and everything.
Afterglow danced in his veins; pride at being able to hold back and resist the temptation to come despite very,verysevere provocation, took up a large portion of his brain.
He’d never imagined anything as erotic as the events of that night. He’d never felt lust like it.
Lust.
Scott sighed to himself.
After pounding so hard that he’d thought it might explode from his chest, Scott’s heart had now settled into a slow steady rhythm; not entirely unlike the beat beneath his palm where it rested on Joe’s chest.
Hearts.
If only the difference between his heart and Joe’s had been to do with something so simple as beat or blood flow. If it had been something like that, perhaps it would have been easier to fix.
Surgeons could do wonderful things these days. Scott had read in the paper only the other day that—
No.
Scott closed his eyes very tightly, but that didn’t make the matter any easier to hide from. There was no point avoiding the truth anymore. Denial had been increasingly difficult to maintain the last few weeks. He didn’t need a cardiologist. If there were any specialist who could help him, it would be a psychiatrist.
Determined not to wake Joe up, Scott took as deep a breath as he dared and let it out as slowly and as calmly as he knew how.
He couldn’t write it off as lust anymore.
Scott was in love with Joe Stuart.
There. He’d said it; only silently and within the confines of his own mind, but still, it had been said.
Scott might have been aware for a long time that he probably liked Joe far more than he should. Lust; he’d been in that with Joe since the first moment he’d set eyes on him. He’d desired him, fantasised about him, longed for him. Scott haddone a hell of a lot of things that revolved around the sight, sound, and even scent of Joe.
He just hadn’t been willing to fully admit to himself that he was stupid enough to have fallen head over heels for a man like Joe. Even now that he knew he had crash-landed into it, it was impossible for him to pinpoint the specific moment he’d given in to such a foolhardy emotion.
Not just tonight, that was for sure. The last time they’d met up? No, long before that, too. Scott shook his head slightly, causing his cheek to rub against Joe’s shoulder.
The one thing Scott was sure of was that the moment he was given the chance to write his next note to Joe couldn’t come soon enough.
He knew what he had to write in it. Now, he just had to keep his nerve when he put pen to paper.
Part Thirteen: Post Haste
Halfway through pouring a beer for one of the regulars at the club, Joe glanced up. Scott was standing just two yards down the bar. Joe smiled. He could always tell when Scott had arrived. A sixth sense, that he’d never been aware of possessing before he met Scott, drew his attention to him every damn time.
Joe mentally shook his head at himself. A sixth sense? He wasn’t even out of his twenties and he was already getting soppy in his old age!
