15. Ford
Ford
The next morning Dylan was conked out.
After three loads in two days, I figured he needed to rest so I slinked out of bed like the Grinch stealing Christmas.
After slipping on a pair of sweats in the dark, I made my way downstairs and started the coffee.
Before I could even break an egg, I heard the sound of a truck pulling into the drive.
“Morning, Ford.”
“The sun’s barely up.” I leaned against one of the posts and crossed my arms.
“Early bird gets the worm. What can I say?”
“No worms here?—”
“Just holes,” Axel interrupted.
I ignored him. “Will the hole be fixed today, or do you think you’ll have to come back tomorrow?”
“I think Brock will finish outside today. Axel and I will be working on the drywall in the bedroom,” River answered. “I give us a-uhhhh sixty percent chance of finishing today. You’re not sick of us already, are ya?”
“Not quite,” I lied, earning a big Santa Claus laugh from River.
“If you wanted to slap on a toolbelt, it would go a wee bit faster.”
As tempting as it was to help them leave sooner, I wasn’t sure they’d survive Dylan’s likely attacks if they flirted with me. The kind of attention I was getting from them reminded me of why I had given up on dating. It was flattering, sure, but it was also completely superficial.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You okay if we leave this door open.” He pointed to the one behind me. “We’re going to be in and out all day.”
“That’s fine.”
“You going for a picnic again with your friend .” River joined me on the porch.
“He’s more than a friend.”
“I bet he is.” He paused for a few seconds, before adding, “I hope you know all the teasing and flirting’s in good fun. Helps me pass the time.” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “The boys are complete dogs though, but I keep them on a short leash.”
“I bet you do.” I turned to head inside. “Help yourself to some coffee if you like.”
“Thank you, Ford. Will do.”
Dylan seemed to still be asleep, so with the fresh blueberries calling my name in the fridge, I decided to make some muffins. The thought of something warm and sweet waiting for Dylan seemed like a sensible antidote to the unexpected chaos of the last twenty-four hours.
My mind kept replaying River’s remarks, the assurance that his—or their—flirting was in good fun . It was obvious he thought it was. Even if it was the catalyst for Dylan and I to finally admit our attraction, it still chafed.
It wasn't the flirting itself that bothered me. After the split with Melissa, my dating life wasn’t a barren wasteland, and the gym was pretty much a cruising hotspot. No, it was the implication.
The way River looked at Dylan, and the way Brock and Axel looked at me. It was all surface.
After struggling with my feelings and ending my marriage, years of swimming in the shallow end of the dating pool was exhausting. I wanted something real, something beyond the initial spark. Easy hookups were exactly that…easy.
Then Dylan, of all people, had walked into my room—and life again—and somehow, we were here. A couple.
Trying it, anyway.
It was so new, but fuck, I hoped it lasted.
Sure, we were getting our fill of each other’s bodies.
The desire he had for me was almost primal and I certainly appreciated his eagerness.
But even I could tell that underneath the cocky optimism there was a fragility, and it was something I was already fiercely protective of.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
While I gathered ingredients, my thoughts had wandered. I had almost forgotten River was there. “No problem.”
“Save me one of whatever you’re making there.”
I grunted in a positive way, then started measuring.
My coaching days had ingrained a certain meticulousness in me, a need for precision.
It had served me well on the mat, and my guys as well.
I didn’t need a therapist to tell me baking kept me grounded.
It was a way to control something, anything, when other parts of my life felt like freefall.
And I hadn’t baked a single thing all summer.
Because of Dylan.
A loud clang from outside startled me. I looked out the open door and found tools on the ground and the boys in a wrestling match. My confidence in the repair was plummeting, but River seemed sure they were close to being done.
Heading back into the kitchen, a glance up the stairs told me Dylan hadn’t heard the commotion and he was hopefully still asleep. After the last few days, he deserved the rest.
Mixing the wet ingredients into the dry, the mixture slowly came together.
As I stirred the batter, the key bounced against my chest and my thoughts drifted to imagining what it was for.
Why had it shown up in the kitchen out of nowhere?
Maybe someone had hidden it in the kitchen or above the door?
Honestly, I had thought about tossing it, but remembered that Dylan said he liked it on me, and I certainly wasn’t going to get rid of it now.
The sun was higher now, streaming through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. As I slid the tray into the preheated oven, I heard a creak from the stairs. My heart gave an involuntary lurch.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I called out, trying to sound casual, my back to the stairs.
He didn’t answer. Just the soft padding of feet on the wooden floor. I turned, coffee cup back in hand, and my breath hitched.
Dylan stood at the bottom of the stairs, completely naked. His hair was a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. His body was a work of art, and there, nestled in between his legs, was the chastity cage.
Just as he noticed the open front door, the dawning realization spreading across his face, I said, “Dylan, the roof?—”
But before I could finish, a shadow fell across the room, and Axel, carrying a fresh sheet of drywall, walked into the room. His eyes, initially concerned with navigating the large panel, drifted up, then widened as they landed on Dylan.
“Shit,” Dylan whispered, his voice barely audible, his face instantaneously red, and spun on his heel, a blur of pale skin and panic. He scrambled back up the stairs, his feet thudding with each stride, and only after I heard the bedroom door slam shut did I take a breath.
“Damn, you guys are kinkier than I thought. Bro’s all caged up,” Axel said, giving me a leer, before continuing into Dylan’s former bedroom.
My cup clattered against the counter, sloshing hot coffee onto my hand, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing, a chaotic jumble of concern, embarrassment, and fury. The only solace was that I don’t think Dylan heard what Axel said.
Even so, this was exactly what Dylan didn’t need.
He was already so vulnerable, so insecure about his past struggles.
I made a conscious effort to relax my jaw and take a breath.
As much as I wanted to storm back there and…
and what? Defend our sexual choices? It would be pointless, drawing more attention to it, and making things even more uncomfortable.
If Axel were smart—slim chance of that—he’d keep his mouth shut about it.
My first priority was Dylan. I knew he was hurt, and he was hiding.
I took the stairs, two at a time. The door to my bedroom was indeed shut, but not quite latched. I pushed it open gently, the old wood groaned softly.
He was on my bed, buried under the blankets. Only the top of his head was visible, his hair a dark blotch against the white sheets. I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. “Dylan?” I said softly, my voice low and calm, despite my skyrocketing blood pressure.
He didn't move.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently resting my hand on the lump that I thought was his shoulder. “He’s just…he’s just a random guy. He's a baboon. He's nothing.”
The lump shook with a silent sob.
“Dylan, look at me.” I tugged gently on the blanket and he let me pull it down. Slowly, his face was uncovered. His eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with unshed tears, and his cheeks were flushed and wet.
“He saw.” His voice was hushed, barely above a whisper. “He saw everything.”
“I know,” I said, my thumb stroking the fabric over his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “I know he did, and I know it's embarrassing and it sucks. It really does, but it doesn’t change anything. Not about you…and not about us.”
He shook his head, burying his face again. “You don’t understand, Ford. You don’t get it,” he mumbled into the pillow.
“Try me,” I urged, moving closer, lying down next to him. “Help me understand.”
He was silent for a while, though he had plenty of sniffles. After a few minutes, he slowly pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard, clutching the blanket to his chest like a shield.
“It’s not just him seeing me,” he began, his voice trembling.
“It’s him seeing it . The cage. It just reminds me of everything.
” He gestured in the air with one hand, then let it fall.
“Of how foolish I’ve been. How many times I’ve let myself be used.
How I just gave myself away, like I meant nothing. ”
My heart ached for him, but I was starting to connect the dots. His shitty luck with guys had led him to a place of insecurity despite his bravado. He'd been so busy building walls with every sarcastic comment, I doubted he even remembered what was on the other side.
“Hey,” I said, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers were cold and clammy. “What happened before…that’s not who you are now. That’s not what we are.”
He pulled his hand away, running it through his messy hair.
“But it is who I was, and it feels like he just saw all of it. All the mistakes. All the times I chased something, anything, just to feel love, and it always ended up being nothing…or worse.” His voice cracked.
“And the cage—it was supposed to be a way to reset, to be better. But down there, it was like a sign. A big, flashing sign that says, ‘Here’s the guy who can’t control himself. Here’s the slut.’”
The word moved through the air like an arrow to my heart.
“Don’t you dare call yourself that,” I said, my voice firm, and reached for his hand again.
“Listen to me. What happened in your past led you here. To this cabin. To us.” His grip grew stronger; I wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
“And I don’t care what Axel thinks he saw.
He saw a glimpse of something he doesn’t understand, but what I see is a man who is brave enough to change, and to take a chance… on me.”
He looked at me, his eyes wide, searching.
“The cage,” I continued, my voice softening, “is a symbol of your strength. Your commitment to yourself. Anyone who looks at it and thinks anything else doesn’t matter.”
He sniffled. “But it’s so embarrassing. I forgot they were even here. I just wanted to find you.” A faint flush crept up his neck, and a ghost of a smile touched his lips, squeezing the last tear out of his eye.
The thought of me seemed to break him out of his spiral, so I leaned into that. “Whatever happened before this summer led you right here. To me.”
He pulled his hand free and wiped his face.
I continued, “So what if Axel saw the cage? You said it yourself, my cock belongs to you.” Our eyes met and we smiled. “And if he says anything about yours, I’ll tell him to shut the fuck up.”
A laugh, surprised and relieved, bubbled up from his chest. There was my Dylan.
“That’s my boy,” I murmured, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. I pulled back, still holding his gaze. “But maybe we just try to ignore them? They’re not worth it.”
He nodded, a small, tight smile on his face.
With every breath, I could see the tension in his shoulders lessen.
He moved closer to me, and I wrapped my arm around him.
His gaze drifted to my neck, to the silver chain nestled against my skin.
He reached out, and I twitched when his fingers brushed my neck ever so slightly.
“I didn’t know you were ticklish here.”
“Not ticklish, just sensitive.”
A glance down told me he had the key in his hand. He was turning it over in his fingers, tracing its intricate shape with his thumb. The casual touch sent a warmth through me that had nothing to do with heat outside.
“I like this.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, my voice a little huskier than I expected.
“I like that you have it.”
“Good.” I wasn’t sure why he liked it so much, but if his focusing on my pretty necklace was enough to calm him down, then that worked for me.
The muffins!
“I forgot about the muffins,” I said, pushing myself out of the bed.
“Muffins?”
“Yeah, I was making them for us. I’m sure the first batch is burnt to shit, but there’s more batter.
I can make another batch.” As I walked out, I looked back at Dylan sitting on the bed.
He wasn’t curled up anymore, but watching me, a soft, thoughtful expression on his face.
“I’ll bring some up when they’re ready.”
“Extra butter please.”
“Sure thing.” I closed the door and hurried down the stairs, shocked I wasn’t greeted by plumes of black smoke, or even a burning smell. Grabbing the oven mitt from the drawer, I pulled them out and they were…fine?
A nice, golden brown.
It seemed I wasn’t gone for as long as I thought. One by one, I popped them out and put them on a cooling rack. After the next batch was in the oven and the timer set, my fingers found themselves twirling the key much like Dylan had been doing.
I heard footsteps, then a voice. “You got that boy locked down.” I turned around, unable to tell if Axel was asking a question or not. While I tried to decide how to respond, he continued, pointing at me. “That’s some kinky shit, bro, wearing the key to it like that.”
Wait, what?!
I turned away from him and held the key out in front of me, stretching the thin chain taut.
The key I’d had for weeks.
That Dylan said wasn’t his.
That he liked me having.
Was the key to his chastity cage?