Chapter 14 #2
I scan the restaurant. There are enough people around that laying a hand on Elkington would be a bad idea. Even if I didn’t have a record, assaulting the mayor in broad daylight is a great way to end up in a cell. I can’t do anything for Dash in a cell.
Leaning across the bar top, I snag the lapel of his uppity jacket. “Okay, Elkington. I’ll play along till I get bored. Next time you show your face here, you’d better fucking tell me whatever you know.”
Letting him go with a shove, he stumbles backward. There’s a chance he’s fucking with me, or maybe this is how he makes friends. It’s fucked up, but it fits his MO.
“I’ll get the hostess to call you a ride,” I tell him.
He scoffs. “No need. My driver’s been waiting for me.”
What an asshole. He left his driver out there this whole time?
“Don’t look like that. She’s paid well.”
“Get out, Maxwell.”
“See you soon, friend.”
Mid-January
Dirk
Just so you know, I left my hat at yours. Maybe it fell behind the bed?
I’ve been staring at Dirk’s text for the past ten minutes.
It’s been a couple weeks since Maxwell so kindly dropped his bomb.
Somehow, he got my number, and he’s been sending me random texts, asking for fatherly wisdom.
I don’t know why, he’s a goddamn ask-hole, disagreeing with every fucking thing I say and doing what he wants anyway.
I haven’t pushed him to stop by yet, but I’m gonna.
Especially now that his nonsense has me fucking up royally. I’m supposed to keep Dirk safe, part of keeping him safe is making sure we don’t get caught.
Me
I’ll check for it, pretty boy.
Dirk
You alone?
That means he wants to have a video chat. Normally, I’m chomping at the bit for that kind of alone time with him, but fucking Elkington.
Fuck it, I’m not turning him down.
I open the app and set my phone in the small tripod I have on the counter just for this reason. His face pops up, and he’s noticeably missing a shirt. Without his hat, his hockey mullet is free, curling up at the nape of his neck. I get to see those pretty blue eyes of his.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I say instead of hello.
“Hey, baby.”
“Dash go out?” I ask.
He nods. “With Syd.”
They’re in Kelowna for a home game. I try to keep up with their schedule.
“And you were a good boy who stayed home?”
He smiles. “Yeah. I promised Maverick I’d grab a bite with him later, but we have an early practice, so it won’t be a late one.”
Maverick Elkington. My lips twist.
“Is that … not cool with you? Sorry, he’s been pestering me since the start of the season. He’s fucking relentless.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just odd timing.” I spill about Maxwell.
“What a dick? Do you want me to talk to Rhett or Maverick?”
“Not yet. I’ve got it handled. Though, if he asks me my opinion on gentle parenting one more fucking time …”
Dirk has the audacity to laugh. “Okay, he’s a dick and I’m by no means in support of whatever the fuck he’s doing, but it’s kind of hilarious. Maybe the man’s dealt with so much scum of the earth that he’s lost the ability to deal with good humans.”
That’s … probably right on the money. Fuck, now I kind of feel sorry for the asshole. Not completely, just the thinnest sliver of empathy. Could a man who’s seen what Maxwell has ever let down his guard enough to let his sons be?
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
That’s the understanding he was talking about. That’s why he picked me. No way he didn’t investigate the fuck outta me before he graced me with his evil presence.
He was right. I do understand how he operates because I’m the same; I just made different choices.
I’ve seen too much, things I’ve been actively working to protect my son from seeing.
I know what kind of shit lives in the world, but I never want Dash to know it.
I want him to live a blissful hockey life, drinking beer with his buddies.
Blissfully unaware will never be me. But I had to do exactly what I’d suggested Maxwell should do: let my guard down enough to let my son be.
If he hasn’t done it, maybe he can’t.
Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit and he’s just an evil fucker.
But it doesn’t change the fact that in that way, we’re the same.
It’s something regular civilians will never understand.
I don’t even want my pretty boy to know what I know or see what I’ve seen.
How much will he let me get away with not telling him?
We’re in a relationship now, which means we’re partners.
I won’t lie or hide things from him, but I’d like to die with some of what I know, and I hope he can understand that when the time comes.
Because it will come.
“Trav? Where did you go?”
“Fuck, sorry. I just realized how alike Maxwell and I are, and I don’t like it.”
“Trav, you’re not even in the same stratosphere as Maxwell.”
“We’ve been through similar shit, though. I understand him.”
“Hunt always says we’re defined by the choices we make. Even though I’m pissed at him right now, he’s right about that one.”
“And I agree, baby, but sometimes certain choices feel like they’re the only ones we have.” I don’t add that during those fucking times, it’s the choice between a tray full of shit choices. I’ve had to make some of those kinds of choices.
“Fair,” he says. “And I can’t fathom what you’ve been through, Trav, but it’s what’s in your heart when you make a horrible decision.”
If that’s true, then I guess it’s yet to be determined as to what Maxwell’s motives are when he makes decisions for his sons—is it because he’s protecting them, or because he wants to control them?
If I were to measure a guess, I’d say it’s both.
I don’t think the man has pure intentions, but I don’t think he’s pure evil either.
I’ve seen pure evil, I know what it looks like. Maxwell ain’t it, or I wouldn’t let him set foot in my bar, mayor or not.
“Do you think I’ll ever get to know what you’ve been through, Trav?” Dirk asks. There’s so much hope in his voice. He already knows a little bit. I told him and Dash about my stint in prison as a lesson in what not to do, so that they’d never land themselves there.
“I want to tell you. It’s fair that you get to know me—the real me—but some things need to stay buried. Okay?”
He puts a hand to his forehead, then seems to change course and runs it through his hair instead—he was looking for his hat, wasn’t he? I should have kept it. I’ve got some of his clothes here, but I don’t have anything of real sentimental value.
“Um, yeah. I guess I can understand that.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s childish, but I want to know everything about you.”
That pushes at one of those guards I have up, one of those protective-type ones that I don’t know if I can tear down. The thing only Maxwell would understand, a similarity between us that’s gonna fucking haunt me. Fucking Elkingtons.
“I’ll … work on it, okay?” It’s the best I can offer for now. Dirk nods. “But enough shitty stuff, are you naked over there, pretty boy?’
An immediate blush blossoms on his cheeks. “I’m wearing sweatpants, but nothing underneath. Not gonna lie, I was fucking hopeful.”
“Hmmm, can’t decide if that’s naughty or something I should reward you for.”
“Do I get a vote?”
“What do you think?”
He groans. My inner sadist smiles. But he’s waited long enough. “Show me how my other cock’s doing without me there to tame it.”
Dirk’s breath hitches. Man, I want to take that from him, his breath. It belongs to me. He’s careful not to touch his cock as he pulls the joggers away from his rippling wall of abs and nestles the elastic waistband under his balls.
“Good fucking boy. I didn’t say you could touch it, and you didn’t.” He bites his lip, and that’s my undoing. “Do you have some lube nearby?”
The sheepish look combined with his beautiful blush is something I wish I could capture in a bottle.
“Look, I said I was hopeful, okay?” He pulls a bottle of lube from somewhere close by but off-camera.
“You must need this orgasm. Tell me how much you need it, baby, and I’ll let you touch.”
He exhales a breath slowly as if he’s afraid it’ll somehow ghost across his erect cock.
“Trav, I fucking need you. You. What I need is for you to fuck me so hard that I forget what year it is. But since I can’t have that, I need just a little relief.
I need it so bad, Trav. I ache for you every damn day.
Please, may I please have permission to touch it? ”
His dick looks like it’s been battling an erection before he called. It’s tinged red, the vein up the front sporting a pump, the head glistening with pre-cum.
“Okay, permission granted. Use the lube. Show me what I do to you, Dirk.”
His hand closes around his cock. It’s long, jutting out from neatly trimmed hair I wish I could bury my nose in. I imagine his scent and growl.
“Faster,” I demand. “Don’t drag it out. I wanna hear how bad you need me.”
He fists himself, lube squelching, mouth hanging open. I love him like this, debasing himself for me. I lick my lips and ignore the ache in my groin—this is about him. A broken moan rips from his lungs.
“Fuck, Trav, I can’t—”
“You can. You still don’t have permission.”
Dirk curses under his breath. I pretend not to hear him.
“You’re thinking about my mouth, huh? Or maybe it’s my cock, pounding the fuck outta that tight ass?”
He whimpers, eyes begging me to put him outta his misery. Soon, pretty boy.
“You’re beautiful like this. So pretty, just for me.”
He moans and pants, slowing his strokes, making them longer until he’s trembling. He ruts into his hand like he can’t help himself, his sanity abducted by need.
“Stroking your cock because I told you to—I let you.”
His powerful glutes squeeze, and he bites down on his lip, flinching. Fuck would I love to be the one biting on his lip.
“Good fucking, boy. Let it ache, let it burn. You need it so bad, don’t you?”
“So, un…believ—ahhh—ably bad. Please, Trav. Please.”
His voice is the right octave of “I’m gonna die soon” I’m looking for, but there’s a problem: his eyes are squeezed shut.
“Look at me when you come. This orgasm is mine just like you are.”
Dirk’s gaze snaps to mine.
“Oh … oh fuck.” Cum spills over his fingers as his brain tries to catch up with his body. His eyelids flutter.
“You are so wrecked. Gorgeous.”
“Wh-What about you?” he says, trying to steady himself.
“I’ve got a great visual for later.”
“I’d better get some fucking pics of that shit, Trav,” he says, reaching for something to clean himself off.
I take him in, every inch of his wrung-out body. “I miss you so much it hurts, pretty boy.”
“Thank god. I’m so glad it’s not just me pining over here.”
“I’m counting down the fucking days, Dirk. Longest hockey season of my life.”