12. Scott
TWELVE
SCOTT
Unknown: I’m glad you finally came to your senses and stopped blocking me. You need to learn. People like them don’t care about anyone but themselves.
Unknown: If you disappeared, they wouldn’t remember your name.
Unknown: Aren’t you tired of being the staff they play with?
I’ve seen Naz float in and out of subspace many times before. It’s happened several times today alone. We rarely do anything this intense, so the comedown from this session is more than we’ve ever handled before.
At first, all he does is hold on to me and pant. Then he goes quiet, and I think he’s fallen asleep or he’s suffocated from the way my weight is on top of him. But then I feel wetness on my neck where he’s buried his face and I’m worried that I’ve gone too far.
I try to pull my head back to look down at him, but he forces his face deeper into my neck, so I settle for kissing his bruised shoulder, across his collarbone, up his neck, and over the redness on his cheek where it was pressed against the blanket.
Eventually, he tilts his face upward so I can work my way to his mouth. He lets me kiss him. Tenderly, even.
“I’m going to pull out now,” I say, my voice soft and low.
I’m not sure if the little grunt he lets out is disappointment or approval, but I kiss him again and whisper, “Shh, I’ve got you.”
As much as I want to pull back and watch my cock slide out of him, to see my cum trickling out, and see how red and swollen his hole is from everything I’ve done to it today, I stay where I am.
I brace my body above his, giving him enough weight to feel grounded but not so much that I’m crushing him, even though he seems to want me to.
He hisses as I pull out of him, his head dropping from the crook of my neck to rest on the ground. I desperately want the eye contact I usually demand, but I have a feeling it’s asking too much of him right now. So I rest my forehead on his instead.
After a long beat of silence, our breaths have finally regulated, and I don’t feel like my heart is about to jump out of my ribcage.
Naz relaxes his arms and legs, no longer forcing me to stay plastered to his body, but I only lift up a little, still trying to give him the space he needs without actually putting any real physical space between us.
“Alright now?”
He nods, then lets out a choked laugh. “What the fuck, dude?”
What the fuck indeed. “Yeah,” I say with a low chuckle. “That was… intense.”
Intense isn’t the word for it. My mind shut down, and it was like something took over my body. It felt like my cells and veins were buzzing and my skin was too tight, like I could burst out of it at any moment. All I could focus on was tunnelling as deep inside him as humanly possible.
“No, you don’t understand. You fucked me so hard… I’m pretty sure I peed,” he croaks out.
I finally lift my head to look down at him. What I can see of his face is red, but he’s hiding behind the crook of his arm. His body is trembling with hysterical laughter.
“Well, I’ve never been into watersports before, but I guess I am now.”
Unable to help myself, I start to crack up too, although I’m not quite sure what’s so funny. His embarrassment is cute. All kinds of bodily fluids can happen in the heat of the moment and honestly, with all that I put him through today, it’s just luck if that’s the worst of it.
I’m not sure how long we lay there laughing like that. Long enough that I have to roll off him because I can’t hold myself up anymore, and when I land in an impressively large and cold wet spot, we start all over again.
This must be what drugs feel like. Euphoric, but also disorienting and kind of scary.
Eventually, our laughter dies off and Naz falls silent. We lay there for a while, twilight falling around us, watching the fireflies and listening to the sounds of nature around us. I pull him closer when the shivering sets in, then coax him to come inside with me.
We go in through the back door of the big house, then across to the opposite wing where the primary bedroom is.
I know he can walk, but I still keep an arm around him to support him, although it might be more for my benefit than his.
He doesn’t resist or complain, but he seems a little out of it still.
There’s a large soaking tub in the primary bath. I noticed it earlier today when I came in to drop off a few things for Naz’s grandparents’ arrival tomorrow. I ended up making a second trip to make sure everything we needed would be here for tonight as well.
I leave Naz to use the toilet in the separate water closet while I start the water to fill the tub, testing the temperature so it’s just right for him—slightly warmer than I would choose for myself, but not too hot.
I pour in a generous scoop of Epsom salts and two packets of a soothing oatmeal bath treatment, then dim the overhead lights.
Naz walks into the room just as I’m lighting a few candles.
“What’s all this?”
“Aftercare,” I say with a shrug.
Normally he would call me out and say this was too much, but he still seems in a bit of a daze and surprisingly doesn’t say anything.
He’s still and pliant as I remove the leash and collar, caressing the red marks it left behind.
He doesn’t even balk at the way I kiss each of his tattooed fingers as I remove the few rings he wears.
When I lead him over to the tub, his eyes trace over the candles set around the edge, the jar of Epsom salts, and the box from the bath treatment packets sitting on the counter nearby.
“You planned this,” he says. Not an accusation, but a realization.
I don’t say anything, helping him climb over the edge and sink into the tub. He winces a little as he first makes contact with the bottom of the tub, so I guide him to lie back and rest his head on a little bath pillow.
“Water okay?” I ask, dipping my wrist to check the temperature again.
He hums and closes his eyes, the tension visibly releasing from his neck and shoulders as the warmth begins to work its way through muscles that have been wound tight for days, even before I put him through the wringer.
Watching him settle and truly relax feels oddly almost more intimate than what happened between us less than an hour ago.
There are no walls left to hide behind here.
None of our usual banter or teasing or feigned grouchiness or even his practiced confidence.
It’s just Naz, exhausted enough to let someone else take care of him.
“You don’t have to hover,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.
“I’m not hovering.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’re definitely hovering.”
“I’m appreciating the view.”
He lets out a quiet huff that almost passes for a laugh.
You don’t know how beautiful you look right now.
I keep those thoughts to myself, already a little embarrassed by what came out of my mouth earlier. Not that I didn’t mean it. I think I’ve been in love with Naz Lester since the moment he fell into my arms after our first session in that club years ago.
Kneeling beside the tub, I drag my fingertips through the water. The candles throw soft light across the room, reflecting off the tiles and the water in slow, wavering patterns.
With his eyes closed like this, he doesn’t realize how closely I’m watching him. Or maybe he doesn’t mind. Either way, I don’t want to push my luck.
Eventually, I reach for the washcloth I left folded on the edge of the tub and dip it into the water just for something to do that isn’t staring at him.
“This okay?” I ask tenderly as I run the cloth gently up his arm.
One eye cracks open and he gives me a look like he isn’t sure about the idea, but he gives a small shrug.
I add body wash and lather the cloth before resuming my task, running it up and down his arm, over his shoulder, under his armpit.
I repeat the same on the other side, careful around the redness on his shoulder, before rinsing out the cloth and squeezing the water over his skin to rinse the suds away.
I wash his chest, dipping just beneath the water to rub the cloth across his abs and the trail of hair beneath his navel.
Bypassing his groin entirely, I move to wash his legs, letting the cloth run over and down his shapely thighs, his knees, and calves.
His toes flex when I wash the top of each foot.
He’s ticklish there, but he truly hates it, so I move on quickly to avoid ruining his relaxation.
“You missed a spot,” Naz murmurs lazily.
I glance up, but his eyes are still closed. “Where?”
He gestures vaguely below the waterline.
I shake my head and chuckle. After all that, he still has it in him to make suggestive jokes. He’s not even hard and I’m not trying to get him there, either. “I think you can reach that far.”
His lips twitch just enough for me to catch the ghost of a smile.
“Worth a shot.”
We stay like that for a while, Naz half dozing and me rubbing lazy circles over his skin with the washcloth.
Eventually, when the water cools and he’s in real danger of falling asleep in the tub, I set the washcloth aside and reach for a towel out of the warmer I turned on earlier.
“Think you’ve soaked long enough?”
Naz opens one eye again. “I figured you’d tell me when I started turning into a raisin.”
I pick up one of his hands and kiss the pads of his wrinkled fingers. “Getting there.”
Naz allows me to help him out of the bath and wrap the warm towel around him, waiting for me while I drain the tub. It’s not until he notices I’m leading him to the closest bed, which is in his grandparent’s room, that he starts to protest.
“It’ll be fine,” I tell him. “The home health nurse isn’t going to be here until the afternoon, and we’re not picking up your grandparents until the next day. I’ll change all the sheets and set everything back to new first thing in the morning.”
He hesitates.
“You can’t tell me you want to walk all the way back to your trailer naked.”