1. Scott
ONE
SCOTT
THREE-ISH YEARS LATER.
I open my eyes to soft light filtering in through lace curtains and the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore.
Smiling, I move to stretch, thinking about a run along the beach.
Most everyone will still be asleep, except maybe the boss and the little boss.
Both Blake and Emmy seem to be early risers like me.
It’s how I first got caught sneaking out of Naz’s room before the sun came up.
Not that I really care what anyone thinks, but it could have negatively affected my job.
And if I’m not Naz’s bodyguard, I don’t have a good excuse to keep him close.
The prickly fucker wouldn’t allow it any other way.
Speaking of prickly, my arm is dead asleep and I’m a little concerned about blood flow, but when I look down to see Naz’s sleeping face, his mouth turned down into a scowl, I don’t dare try to extricate myself.
Naz doesn’t snuggle, and we’ve never purposefully slept together before.
There was one time on tour when we both passed out after a very long, very athletic night of sex, but of course Naz felt some kind of disturbance in the peace and woke up after a couple of hours and kicked me out.
That was the first time I got caught sneaking out of his room.
But it wasn’t the last.
We’ve been fucking around for months, but it’s nothing more than that.
Or at least, it isn’t for him. He makes a point of telling me that every chance he gets, but I like to think I’m growing on him.
Especially in the moments after our more intense sessions, when he lets me hold him or kiss him softly while we both come down.
For as long as he can stay in his peaceful subspace, he’s mine in every way.
Sometimes it lasts long enough that he falls asleep in my arms. When that happens, I want nothing more than to stay and soak up every second, but I won’t betray his trust by going against our pre-set rules.
No feelings.
No public signs of affection.
No affection at all unless it’s under the guise of aftercare. That’s an unwritten rule I had to learn the hard way. Skimping on aftercare is a hard limit for me, so I get that much at least.
No sleepovers.
Of course we have our list of hard and soft limits– no scat play, nothing that causes significant or visible bruising, no blood play. That sort of thing.
It’s practically a contractual arrangement, but we’re both getting something we need from each other. Naz gets to let go and let someone take care of him for once.
And me? I get to be the only person on earth who gets this side of him.
The sex is nothing to scoff at, either. I mean, goddamn. I didn’t know sex could be this hot, this primal. Just looking at Naz has me conditioned to bone up, which is kind of a problem, considering I’m his bodyguard. Trailing behind him almost 24/7 is both a joy and a pain in that way.
Finding our paths crossing again was a total coincidence, but I like to think that fate brought us back together.
I never forgot that night at the club, and I spent more than my fair share of nights waiting, hoping to see him walk through the doors again.
I stayed at that shitty paying job far longer than I might have otherwise.
Even after sticking around for over two and half years and giving up on the hope I’d ever see him again, I still second guessed calling the number on the card Cory handed me one night after I helped him get Jesse Moore out of a bad situation.
Of course I knew who Jesse was. Who doesn’t?
But I really didn’t know who Naz was when I met him in the club that night.
It wasn’t until after I was hired and went through training that we met face to face and I put it together.
It might have taken me longer to figure out why he was so familiar, to recognize the unmasked version of him with longer hair and even more tattoos than before, but it was his expression that gave it away.
The way he stared at me with recognition, disbelief, and a faint edge of fear washing over his face.
We’ve come a long way since then. Naz was not happy about my assignment as his bodyguard.
He even tried to have me switched out for another bodyguard, but it raised too many questions, so he dropped it.
For a while I thought he might have me fired, but under that passive-aggressive, scowling exterior, he’s really a softy.
Actually, I’m the only one he really seems to get so grouchy with, but I kind of love it. It’s like when small children are little angels all day and then turn into the devil incarnate as soon as they’re home and can drop their guard. It’s cute, and it means I’m his safe space.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
About a month after I joined the Lest Is Moore security team, I found Naz having a small breakdown.
He’s so calm and put together all the time, it was really hard to tell how bad it was, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that something was wrong.
I tried to talk to him about it, but he kept pushing me away and tried to walk away from me. So I took a chance.
“Stop,” I said, with all the authority I could muster.
Naz startled a little and halted in his tracks. He turned around to face me slowly, his brow furrowed with the grouchy annoyance I’d already grown used to, but there was something more in his eyes. Interest. Or maybe relief?
A slow grin spread across my face when I realized I could help him. I could help him, and I could also have him.
Just like that night in the club years ago, I had to spend some time talking him down and easing him into the headspace I knew he desperately craved.
Needed, even. We were in the hallway outside the recording studio, so it wasn’t exactly the right place to whip his dick out, so I kept things professional.
Well, I kept my touch professional, at least. I might have murmured some things in his ear to keep his attention on me.
It went on like that for weeks. I’d step in whenever I could tell he was getting overwhelmed.
I never touched him, just talked and got him out of his head.
Until one night I got a text that he needed help in his room.
I was worried he might be having another episode, but when I tapped lightly on the door and stepped inside, I found Naz in the center of the room, on the ground and wearing nothing but a jockstrap.
He was kneeling with his knees apart, hands resting on his thighs, his head bowed.
“What’s going on?”
Naz looked up at me, annoyed by my stupid question, but trying not to show it or roll his eyes.
“If we’re going to do this, we should do it right,” he said. “It can only be behind closed doors, and it’s strictly an exchange, nothing more. But if you want me… I’d like you to have me.” He paused and lowered his head again. “Sir.”
Honestly, it looked like a struggle for him to keep his position and say the words.
Like he was warring with himself. I questioned whether it was the right thing to do for about two and a half seconds.
Because how could anyone turn down the most beautiful man on earth practically naked and on his knees?
They couldn’t, that’s how. I damn sure didn’t even try.
I walked over to him, crouched down in front of him, and tilted his chin to look up at me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes at first, either out of embarrassment or because that’s how he’d seen other submissives act.
“Eye contact, pet. If we’re going to do this, I want your eyes on me unless I say otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to. If it works for you, that’s fine. We’ll need to have a discussion about limits and what we do and don’t want out of this, but I’d like to take advantage of having you on your knees first, if that’s okay.”
“Green.”
When the word came out of his mouth, breathy and full of lust, I nearly lost it on the spot.
I fucked his mouth, watching him closely for limits or signs he wasn’t into it, but the more I took control and used him, the more his eyes glazed over and his thighs clenched as his cock strained in the jock.
I wanted so badly to splay him out and feast on him, suck him down and drink every last drop of his orgasm, but something told me he needed rules in place before I would be allowed to reciprocate this kind of pleasure.
He’d set up the scene in a very particular way because he needed something specific from me.
So after I came down his throat, I made him maintain eye contact while he jerked himself off, then watched as impassively as I could while he cleaned up his mess.
That night was the first of many. I could tell he liked it when I called him a dirty boy. When I used and degraded him and his skin flushed pink, eyes glossy and far away. It became routine—something he needed. Something I was happy to give him.
Naz shifts, nuzzling deeper into my side.
The movement takes some pressure off my bicep and allows me to stretch out a little.
Pins and needles race up and down the limb as the feeling in my hand and forearm returns, but I try not to move too much.
I know exactly how this is going to go the moment he wakes up and notices the way he’s draped over me.
I’m not trying to speed things along. I’m quite enjoying my moment of Zen, listening to the way his breaths are synced to the rhythm of the waves hitting the shore and having a chance to really look at him.
The way his eyelashes fan over his cheeks, the strands of his thick black hair tousled over his face and my shoulder.
His perfect lips pressed together in a pout.
I love the way he looks grouchy in his sleep.
He’s so fucking beautiful.
And that’s just his face. I don’t dare look too long at the expanse of dark tan skin, covered in intricate ink, the sheet he’s tangled up in barely covering his bare ass and one gloriously long, shapely leg.
“Are you seriously perving on me while I sleep?” He grumbles without opening his eyes.
“Can you blame me?” I chuckle. “Besides, you’re not even awake yet, how would you even know?”
“For one, I’m obviously awake because I’m talking to you. And two, your boner is stabbing me in the leg.”
And three…
Two…
One.
Naz’s eyes snap open and he lifts his head, first looking down at the way he has his arm around my chest and then at his leg cocked up over my hips. Then he looks up at my face, scowl firmly in place.
“What the fuck is this shit,” he grumbles and tries to pull away, but I wrap my arms around him and pull him fully on top of me. His protests are even funnier smothered into my chest. “Oh my gawd, gerroff!”
“You get off,” I say, laughing. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who crawled over here and slept basically on top of me all night?”
“I’m glad you think you’re funny. Let me up, asshole.”
I bring a hand to his chin and hold it in place while I look down at him, intentionally giving him the hard eye contact that has become an integral part of our play.
I like him to look at me as much as possible, because no matter how much he escapes into his happy sub space, I don’t want him to forget who’s giving it to him.
I won’t let him forget who makes him feel good, who gives him what he needs.
“I’ll let you go if that’s what you really want, but there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves while we’re here.”
I rock my hips up, pressing into him to make my point obvious, if it wasn’t already.
My cock slides along his. He’s just as hard as I am, and I can see the restraint in the way he holds his body.
He wants this just as much as I do, and I cannot imagine a better morning than a leisurely morning make-out and frot session while the sun rises over the ocean just outside our window.
But that’s not what we do. Even on vacation. Even when we were put in the same room without being asked.
It’s still breaking one of Naz’s rules. It’s too much for him.
I release him, smiling to make sure he knows I’m not upset.
Naz doesn’t make eye contact again until he’s dressed and nearly out the door. At the last moment, he turns to look back at me. There’s a spark of regret in his expression, and then I watch in real time as he schools his features before stepping out of the room.
Even in a houseful of the people closest to him, he wears it.
The mask he puts on, the persona he steps into.
Naz is the calm one who never takes anything too seriously.
The reasonable one everyone comes to when they need to work things out.
The unaffected, aloof, go with the flow but always gets things done guy.
An extroverted introvert who is there for everyone else, but doesn’t think he needs anybody for anything.
Watching him put it on hurts almost as much as the way he keeps me at arm’s length, but then I remember I’m the only one who gets to see him without that mask. I’m the only one he feels safe enough to be real with.
He knows I’m here for him. And I’ll make sure he never forgets it.
Unknown: Hey Scott, I have a proposition for you. Big payout. Discreet. Give me a call.
—number blocked—