Chapter Twenty-Two
Garett
Garett watched Torin carefully as the scene ended, his breathing still heavy but his movements slow and deliberate. Torin’s eyes were half-lidded, his body relaxed but visibly spent. Garett could see the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his hands trembled slightly as they rested at his sides. He had done well—better than Garett had expected for a first time—but now it was time for aftercare. That was just as important as the scene itself, if not more so.
“You did great,” Garett said softly, his voice warm and steady as he kneeled beside Torin. He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from Torin’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Torin blinked slowly, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Good. Fantastic. Just…kind of floaty.”
Garett nodded, his chest swelling with pride. “That’s normal. You’re coming down from the adrenaline. Let’s get you cleaned up and comfortable, okay?”
Torin hummed in agreement, his eyes closing as Garett stood and fetched a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom. He returned to Torin’s side, gently wiping away the sweat. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he made sure Torin felt cared for and safe. When he was done, he handed Torin a bottle of water and a small piece of candy—something sweet to help stabilize his blood sugar.
“Here,” Garett said, his tone gentle. “Drink some water and eat this. It’ll help.”
Torin took the water and candy without protest, his movements slow but steady. He sipped the water, then popped the candy into his mouth, his expression softening as the sweetness hit his tongue. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.
Garett sat beside him on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on Torin’s back. “You were amazing, Torin. Seriously. I know this was new for you, but you trusted me, and that means a lot. How are you feeling now? Anything you want to talk about?”
Torin leaned into Garett’s touch, his body still loose and pliant. “I feel…good. Safe. Kind of tired, but in a good way. Like I can just…let go, you know?”
Garett smiled, his thumb rubbing small circles against Torin’s spine. “I know. That’s the afterglow. It’s a good feeling, but it’s important to take care of yourself after. That’s why we do this—the water, the candy, the talking. It’s all part of making sure you’re okay.”
Torin nodded, his eyes drifting shut again. “I like it. The way you take care of me. It’s…nice.”
Garett’s chest tightened with affection, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Torin’s temple. “You deserve to be taken care of, Torin. Always.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the room quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Then Garett shifted, his hand moving to Torin’s shoulders. “How about a massage? It’ll help you relax even more.”
Torin’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
Garett helped Torin lie down on his stomach, then positioned himself beside him, his hands warm and firm as he kneaded the tension from Torin’s shoulders and back. He worked slowly, methodically, paying attention to every hitch in Torin’s breath, every soft sigh that escaped his lips. It was intimate in a way that went beyond physical touch—it was about connection, about showing Torin that he was valued, cherished.
“You’re doing so well,” Garett murmured as he worked, his voice low and soothing. “I’m proud of you, Torin. Not just for tonight, but for being open to this. For trusting me. It’s difficult to step into something new, but you did it. And you were incredible.”
Torin’s breath hitched, and he turned his head slightly, his cheek resting against the pillow. “Really?”
“Really,” Garett said, his tone firm but gentle. “You’re stronger than you think, Torin. And I’m lucky to have you.”
Torin didn’t respond, but Garett could see the way his shoulders relaxed even further, the way his breathing evened out. He continued the massage, his hands moving down Torin’s back, working out the last of the tension. After a while, Torin spoke again, his voice soft but clear.
“Do you think…we could do this again tomorrow? Maybe here, at home?”
Garett smiled, his hands pausing for a moment before resuming their work. “Of course. We can take it slow, just like we did today. And when you’re ready, we can try a scene at Cowpokes in a private room. But only when you’re ready. No rush.”
Torin nodded, his eyes closing again. “Okay. I think…I’d like that. The club, I mean. But yeah, let’s do tomorrow here first.”
Garett’s chest swelled with pride, and he leaned down, pressing another kiss to Torin’s shoulder. “Whatever you want, Torin. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
As he continued the massage, Garett felt a deep sense of contentment settle over him. Torin had trusted him tonight, had let himself be vulnerable in a way that wasn’t easy for him. And Garett would make sure that trust was never broken. They were in this together, and no matter where it led, Garett knew one thing for certain: he would always take care of Torin. Always.
The next day, Garett and Torin had breakfast with the ranch hands. He hoped Torin would enjoy the flavorful ranch breakfast and make friends with other workers his own age. The mess hall was a sprawling, rustic building at the heart of Carrillo Ranch, its wooden beams weathered by years of sun and wind. The large, open space was filled with the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates and utensils. Long, sturdy tables ran the length of the room, flanked by benches that had seen countless ranch hands come and go over the years. The walls were decorated with faded photographs of the ranch’s history—cattle drives, rodeos, and group shots of cowboys from decades past. The air smelled of coffee, bacon, and freshly baked biscuits, a comforting mix feeling like home.
Garett sat at one of the long tables, Torin beside him, as they dug into plates piled high with scrambled eggs, sausage, and fluffy biscuits smothered in gravy. Around them, the other ranch hands ate and chatted, their laughter and easy banter filling the room. Most of the men were cowboys, their hats hanging on hooks by the door, their boots scuffed and dusty from early morning chores. A few were closer to Torin’s age, and Garett had made a point of introducing them earlier, hoping Torin might find some new friends among the crew.
Sam sat across from them, his face breaking into a grin as he reached for the coffeepot. “Torin, you gotta try the biscuits,” Sam said, sliding the basket toward him. “Cook makes ’em fresh every morning. Best damn biscuits in the state.”
Torin smiled, taking one and breaking it apart. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll take your word for it.” He took a bite, his eyes widening slightly. “Okay, yeah. These are amazing.”
Garett nudged Torin with his elbow. “Told you. Ranch food will spoil you quick.”
Garett was disturbed with Sam acting like he was Torin’s best friend, a stark contrast to yesterday when he’d been trying to scare him with graphic descriptions of BDSM. He planned to give Sam a piece of his mind. Sam would understand the damage his meddling could cause between him and Torin. He’d make it damn clear Sam was to stay out of his relationship with Torin if he planned on continuing working at the guest house. He’d scare the fuck out of San and threaten to fire him if he discussed anything to do with his relationship or any BDSM topics with Torin. He planned to pull Sam aside after breakfast.
As they ate, Garett monitored Torin, watching how he interacted with the others. He seemed relaxed, laughing at jokes and asking questions about the ranch. It was good to see him fitting in, even if it was just over breakfast. But Garett’s mind was elsewhere too. He needed to talk to Sam and Dante today. No one was going to ruin what they had. Not Byron, not anyone.