Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Thorin
“Finally! Payne, you have now done two things that no one else has ever been able to do,” I declared as I watched Wylde shake his head at the three marshmallows still remaining on the table.
“You got him to eat cauliflower without complaining about it, and you found a game that he wasn’t instantly amazing at.
Talk about a grand champion-level performance.
If I had a trophy or a medal handy, I’d hold a whole award ceremony for you. ”
“Could I choose a different reward?” Payne asked.
Wylde groaned while I grinned across the table at Payne. “You can choose any reward you’d like.”
“In that case, I’d like it very much if we changed the rules of the game a smidge,” Payne replied. “The loser can either lose a piece of clothing or answer a question of the winner’s choosing. Think of it as a cross between strip poker and truth or dare.”
“Oh, I’m game,” I declared, shooting a challenging look at Wylde.
“And I’m about to be naked,” Wylde replied as he ate the two mini marshmallows he’d managed to capture and picked up his straw.
Payne and I had already eaten ours, so he counted out fifteen more and stood poised for the next round to begin.
The goal was to use the straw to pick up the mini-marshmallows through suction, which should have been something Wylde excelled at since that man gave the kind of head that could turn your soul inside out.
Why he was struggling at this game was anyone’s guess, unless…
The thought that popped into my head was awful and downright scary.
Hell, it was one I didn’t even want to contemplate, only now that I was, it made perfect sense and pissed me off all at the same time.
That last bull ride, the one that had put him on the shelf, had ended when he’d been thrown and stomped on by the bull.
The landing had damaged his shoulder, the hooves had ruptured his diaphragm and broken his ribs, one of which had punctured a lung.
He’d told me he’d been given a clean bill of health, but now I had to wonder if something had been missed or if Wylde, stubborn, reckless, foolish Wylde, hadn’t been fully honest about something in his talks with his physician.
As Payne said, “Go,” and we leaned over the plate with the straw, trying to capture the marshmallows as fast as possible.
I found myself running a mental checklist of the chores and activities we’d engaged in since Wylde’d arrived at the Ranch, trying to recall any instance where he’d struggled or been breathing harder than he should have been.
I blamed the whirlwind of thoughts and the way I studied him over top of the plate as the reason he came close to beating me.
But he was still going to have to lose a piece of clothing.
“Here you go, one victory sock,” Wylde declared, folding it neatly and setting it on the floor beside his seat.
“A sock. Really?” I said.
“Oh, that just makes it more fun. Once he loses the other one, he’ll have to give up something big,” Payne said. “Like that t-shirt. That’s what I’m looking forward to watching him lose.”
“Looking forward to seeing me show some skin, kitty?” Wylde asked, winking over at him.
“Yes, Sir,” Payne replied, pink tongue flicking out to lick his upper lip.
Curse the rules and how good he was at this game, because I’d love to watch them both start losing clothing.
Wait.
The rules.
The loser either had to give up a piece of clothing or answer a question.
So, all I had to do was win and hope he chose clothing over the question.
Or did I get to choose? Wylde had chosen clothes, without waiting to see what Payne’s choice was, and he seemed all in on seeing Wylde’s come off, so it looked like we were playing to see how fast we could get Wylde naked, unless he found a way to catch up and keep up so we could see some of Payne’s clothes join his on the floor.
“Why is this… so… difficult?” Wylde panted as he laid his straw down in defeat again.
Maybe I studied him harder than necessary, looking for a sheen of sweat on his forehead or upper lip, but hearing him panting, yeah, I was concerned, but that conversation would have to wait until we were in our room alone.
“The trick is one long, continuous suck, from the time you touch the straw to the marshmallow until you’re ready to drop it on the plate, but if you jerk the straw, your marshmallow will go flying like your last two, which is sad, because then you can’t eat them.”
“My sucking skills must be rusty then, ‘cause that’s what I thought I was doing,” Wylde replied as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes.
“Oh well, then this is the perfect game for you,” Payne replied. “You’ll get plenty of practice.”
“Why don’t you demonstrate your technique?” Wylde suggested as he pulled off his other sock. “I’ve always been more of a visual learner.”
“Okay,” Payne replied, grinning across the table at him.
He never lost eye contact with Wylde as he leaned over the plate, straw between his lips, inhaling as he touched it to the marshmallow, before smoothly moving it from the big plate to his smaller one before letting it drop.
“Catch a quick breath in between marshmallows, then go for the long inhale when you’re ready to pick one up. It’s as much about timing as breathing, well and finding the right rhythm.”
“Timing, breathing, and rhythm, just like riding a bull, got it,” Wylde replied.
“Is that what you did in the rodeo?” Payne asked. “Seriously? You were a bull rider?”
“We both were,” I replied.
“Now I don’t know if I want the t-shirt or to ask a question the next time I win.”
“Who says you’re gonna win the next round, pretty kitty?” Wylde replied, smirking across the table at him. “Now that you’ve shared your secrets with me, I’m coming after your clothes, and Thor’s, ‘cause he’s got a tattoo I think you’d like to see.”
“Game on!” Payne replied, doing what I could only interpret to be a squirmy happy dance in his seat as he put fresh marshmallows on the plate.
I had to give it to Wylde; he’d always caught on quickly, and this time was no exception, which put some of my fears to rest, but only just, since he was still breathing hard by the time he got the fifth marshmallow on the plate a half second before I dropped my last one.
“Yes, take his shirt!” Wylde declared.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I replied. “Payne still won, so you don’t get to choose what I lose, and in keeping with the precedent you set, here is one sock.”
I made a show of pulling it off, folding it up, and sitting it on the floor beside my chair.
Twenty minutes later, I was forced to finally peel off my t-shirt, while Wylde still had his and his jeans.
Rhythm, timing, and breathing. Payne might as well have told him it was sex.
I couldn’t believe how fast the tide had turned on me, fast enough that for a moment, I wondered if Wylde had been fumbling deliberately at the start.
Only, I’d always been able to tell when he was playing games or faking, and that’s not what had gone down at the beginning of the game. His struggles had been real.
“I don’t see a tattoo.,” Payne remarked as he studied me.
“Turn around, Thor, and let him see what you’ve got on your back.”
“You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” I noted as I stood and turned so Payne could see the panther, claws outstretched, jagged red lines depicting the scratches it left behind.
“Is it okay if I touch?” Payne asked, sounding a little breathy.
When I turned to look at him over my shoulder, the tip of his tongue was poking out from between his lips, but his eyes were glued to my tattoo.
“You never have to ask if you can touch me,” I told him.
His fingers were soft as they traced over the outline of the panther, while my breath released in hard pants the longer he touched my back.
When he reached the tail, which curved to rest on my hip, I shuddered, goosebumps rising on my arms, thanks to the silky gentleness of his caress.
My head tipped forward as he made his way back up to the panther’s head and the scratches that started at my shoulder blade.
“He positively melts when someone gives him a massage,” Wylde said, half statement, half suggestion.
“I’ve been told I give amazing backrubs, but you’re kind of tall, so I’d need you to lie on the couch if you’d like to pause the game long enough to get one.”
“We don’t have to pause the game; we can just make another modification,” I said as an idea began to take shape in my head as I strode toward the couch.
“Oh, okay,” Payne replied, following close behind me. “You’ve got me curious.”
“Wylde, bring the marshmallows, straw, and plates over here, please, and set them on the coffee table,” I said as I stretched out on the couch.
“Wylde gives amazing backrubs too, and tag-team action is always fun, so why don’t you play for who gets to give me a backrub?
Every five minutes we’ll play again. The winner gets to rub my back, and the loser gets to answer the winner’s questions. ”
“Sounds pretty win-win in my book,” Payne said as Wylde got everything situated.
“Mine too,” Wylde said.
“Then you’ll just need to turn the table so you have room to kneel by the couch, both of you,” I declared. “Since the surface you’ll be retrieving the marshmallows from is me.”
Payne grinned while Wylde’s eyes widened a fraction, then need flickered in them, and I watched his expression shift and begin to morph into something soft and needy right before my eyes.
“What if it’s a tie?” Wylde asked as he pulled the cushions off the two matching chairs and placed them beside the couch, so they’d have something comfortable to kneel on.
“Then you both get to massage me,” I replied.
Payne slid to his knees with graceful, practiced ease, while Wylde used the arm of the couch to help him get into position.
Seeing him struggle left me struggling to remember the last time he’d gotten on his knees for me.
Not since before my bull riding wreck almost two years ago, when he’d knelt beside our third, the pair of them taking turns sucking me off while I’d praised them and stroked their hair, going out of my mind from the pleasure of having their mouths on me.
Wylde’s gaze never left my face, while my eyes wandered from him to Payne and back again.
They were stunning that way. Silent, waiting for me to tell them to begin.
I tucked a throw pillow beneath my head, wrapped my arms around it, and finished getting comfortable, and still they waited without moving a muscle, eyes trained on my face, awaiting my command.
“You can set up the game now,” I said. “Six marshmallows each.”
Wylde reached for the bag and carefully shook it over my back, counting them until he had twelve, while Payne picked up the straws and passed him one when he’d finished.
The marshmallows were soft, and the ones that rolled down to the small of my back made me shiver, which caused a few others to roll and left me struggling not to chuckle and make a mess of the game before it could begin.
“Straws ready,” I said, keeping my voice low so talking wouldn’t jostle the marshmallows either.
They placed their straws to their lips and nodded.
“Begin.”
One by one I felt the marshmallows leave my body.
Watched them turn their heads to drop the marshmallows on the plates, Payne’s second one hit the floor while Wylde managed to get his on the table, pick it back up with the straw, and put it on the plate before trying for the next one.
A marshmallow flew off Wylde’s straw and bounced off my nose on its way to the space beyond the couch, while Payne giggled and dropped his in the process.
Next round, they were ditching the straws; fuck it, as long as Payne was okay with it, I wanted to feel their lips on my body while they picked up those marshmallows.
In the end, Wylde won, five to four, his eyes eager and hopeful when he waited for me to give him permission to claim his prize.
Had I neglected him in this capacity? Shit.
I had. He’d arrived still healing, and he’d embraced all that the Ranch offered, joining me in the Dungeon and sharing subs with me.
We’d played side by side, and never once had I thought that maybe he might have wanted me to play with just him.
And Wylde, being Wylde, had never asked me for anything. He’d just let me lead and played enthusiastically with that golden retriever energy of his.
Now I was beginning to wonder if I’d taken it and him for granted. Had he jumped at Derek’s request for us to host Payne and see to it that his needs were met and his fantasies played out the way he desired because Wylde’d hoped for a chance to share in a moment like this?
He was still waiting, silently watching, that hopeful expression beginning to shift into a guarded one that was not a good look on him.
“I’ll take that back rub now,” I told him, loving the way he scrambled to climb up on the couch to straddle my back.
“Wait,” Payne said, scrambling to his feet as well. “I have massage oil in my room.”
Watching him scamper off, I was glad he wasn’t wearing one of his tails, because it offered an unimpeded view of his ass as it swayed and bounced.
“He’s special,” Wylde murmured as I shifted my hips, glad for a wide couch that allowed me to center myself while he straddled me.
“So are you,” I replied. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been giving you what you needed.”
“All I ever needed was for things to get back to the way they used to be before I screwed everything up.”
“Wylde…”
Payne’s return ended a conversation we would be picking back up again, because he was still brooding about the way things had gone south with Cory.
If he thought I blamed him or was holding a grudge, then my declaration that we were never going to talk about Cory again was getting tossed right out the window, because there was no way we could move forward with that still hanging over our heads.
And I desperately wanted to move forward with him and with Payne, if he’d be interested in a pair of slightly broken-down ex-bull riders, because I could already see that he was damned good for us.
If we could be just as good for him, then we’d have a dynamic that could truly work, one that might even have that storybook ending everyone was always going on and on about when it came to Rawhide magic.
The one I’d thought we’d lost forever when Cory had torn our worlds apart.