Safe Harbor

Chapter Six

Sully knew Mac wouldn’t dream that night. He never did after a heavy session. The flood of endorphins sent him into a deep, heavy crash that allowed him to sleep uninterrupted.

And himself too, by default.

He awoke early the next morning to the feel of Mac’s lips wrapped around his cock. Sully smiled and fisted his hands in Mac’s hair. “Did I give you permission to do that, slave?”

Mac made an “uh-uh” sound, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

As he’d predicted, Mac woke up hornier than hell. He always did after a heavy scene despite his body being sore and achy. Sully wished their boat trip hadn’t been interrupted. He’d been looking forward to letting Mac top him and still had an erotic itch their normal activities didn’t scratch.

Mac kept him on edge, holding him back, reading his body, and not letting him come. Finally, he crawled up the bed and kissed Sully.

“Shower?”

Sully hooked a leg around Mac’s and rolled him onto his back, pinning him beneath him with his arms over his head. “What do you want,” he growled. “Tell me and quit dicking around.” He suspected he already knew what Mac wanted.

Mac’s stiff cock rubbed against Sully’s hip. “Just for this morning? Please, Master?”

“Maybe I should make you beg for it.” It’d been a long time since he’d let Mac top him anywhere but on the boat.

“If that’s what you want, I will.”

Sully smiled and sat up. He grabbed Mac’s nipple rings and twisted them. “I should make you pay for asking out of turn.”

Mac eagerly nodded.

Sully laughed and swung off him. “Go get the shower ready, you horny slut.” He waited for Mac to walk into the bathroom. Then he rummaged through his dresser drawer and found one of Mac’s old play collars—one that could get wet. When he walked into the bathroom, Mac was examining his ass in the mirror. Clearly delineated black and blue lines crossed his cheeks and upper thighs.

“Damn. You got me good, Master.”

Sully handed him the collar and went to use the toilet. “You ask, you receive.” When he finished, he faced Mac. “Well?”

Mac grinned and crooked his finger at Sully. Sully smiled and turned, dropping his chin so Mac could fasten the collar’s buckle at the back of his neck. Sully grabbed the key from the counter, unlocked Mac’s collar, and removed it. “Happy?”

Mac grabbed him and kissed him deeply, his tongue plunging into Sully’s mouth. “Not yet, but I will be once my cock is buried in your sweet ass.”

Sully closed his eyes and took a deep, sated breath. He wouldn’t deny he enjoyed this, being able to trust Mac enough to let him take over for short periods. Mac spun him around to face the mirror.

“Hands on the counter,” he growled.

As steam drifted through the bathroom, Sully complied. “Like this?”

Mac shook his head, then nudged Sully’s feet farther apart. “Like that.” He reached between Sully’s legs, palmed his sac, and gently squeezed and rolled the soft weight along his hand. He pressed his chest against Sully’s back. “You want my cock inside you?”

Sully, his eyes still closed, let his head drop. “You know I do.”

His stiff cock wouldn’t let him lie about it anyway.

Mac’s hand slid up along the seam of his ass, one finger pressing against the puckered ring of flesh without penetrating. “I had a lot of plans for you this weekend.”

“I’m sure you did. You’re pretty creative.”

Mac snickered and swatted Sully on the ass. “Shower. Now.”

Sully didn’t bother concealing his smile as he stepped across the bathroom. Mac grabbed a bottle of lube and followed him into the shower.

“Against the wall.”

Sully complied.

Mac slicked his cock with lube and then worked some into Sully with his fingers to loosen him. “You like that?”

Sully’s eyes dropped closed. “Would I let you if I didn’t?”

Mac chuckled. “Nope. You’d make my life miserable.” He pressed his cockhead against Sully’s dark hole. Both men groaned as Mac slowly seated himself inside Sully. With his cock buried to the hilt, he grabbed Sully’s hips and slowly thrust. “I hadn’t even got started,” he whispered in Sully’s ear. “Had a lot more I wanted to do.

What am I gonna do if she’s on the boat with us, hmm?”

“You want to fuck or talk?”

With a hard bump of his hips, Mac thrust deep. “What do you think?”

Sully tried to hold back, his own cock throbbing with every stroke of Mac’s shaft along his gland. After a few minutes, Mac slowed his pace and reached around Sully’s waist. He wrapped his fingers around Sully’s cock and stroked. “Make it fast, man.”

Pushed past the point of conscious will, Sully worked his hips back and forth, between Mac’s talented fingers and his lover’s stiff cock.

“Come now!” Mac growled.

It pushed him over the edge. His hands clenched into fists against the tile wall as his climax washed over him. Mac took that as his cue.

He grabbed Sully’s hips again and pounded into him until he came with a cry, his cock pulsing inside the other man. Mac didn’t move for a moment, leaning against Sully for support and trying to catch his breath. Then he withdrew, turned Sully around, and embraced him as they stepped under the water.

Mac rested his head on the shorter man’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to put a collar on,” he softly said, reverting to gentle Mac.

Back to slave.

Sully closed his eyes and held Mac. “I know you like it.”

After a moment, Mac grabbed the soap. He sank to his knees and, working the soap around Sully’s groin and ass, lathered and washed him before taking care of himself. Once satisfied, he reached for the collar. “Maybe we should take that off.”

“Why?”

Mac shrugged, but wouldn’t meet Sully’s gaze.

Sully grabbed Mac’s chin and forced him to look at him. “Why?”

he quietly but firmly asked.

“It doesn’t look right.”

Sully let him remove it and toss it out of the shower. “But it’s right on the boat?”

“That’s different.”

“It didn’t used to bother you before.”

“I’m not used to seeing you like that at home anymore.”

Bless his heart, Mac was a creature of habit. It didn’t matter that he was a “strong” man. He was, in his heart, a slave. He’d embraced it, eagerly, and enjoyed living for his Master. Mac liked clearly defined rules and roles, enjoyed his limited time in charge because it felt natural to him to be in charge on the Dilly.

At home, however, it was a different matter since their routine had changed over the years.

“Turn around,” Sully commanded. “Let me look at your ass.”

Mac snorted in amusement even as he complied. Sully skimmed his hand down Mac’s flesh. The welts he’d opened last night were healing over. While bruised, he saw no sign of infection. “When we get done, let me put some ointment on that before you get dressed.”

Mac stepped under the spray to shampoo his hair. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Anytime.” He poked him in the stomach. “You’ll have to bank your punishment strokes over the next couple of days. I don’t want to give you new ones until you’ve healed more.”

Faltering only a little, Mac barely missed a beat in his reply. “You too chicken to hit me?”

“No,” Sully growled. “I don’t like to break my toys.”

Mac froze, then burst out laughing. “Yes, Master.”

“You don’t have to take them, you know. You can renegotiate that boundary so there’s no punishment.”

The expected answer. “No, Master. Thank you, but I’ll take them.

I don’t like to change the rules.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Mac was, if nothing else, sweetly predictable.

It didn’t hurt he was a masochist.

After their shower, Sully retreated to his office. Mac brought him coffee.

Clarisse still slept.

Mac cooked Sully breakfast and brought it into the office for him.

Sully was already engrossed in his latest manuscript. “Thank you,” he mumbled as he studied his laptop screen.

Mac hesitated, then knelt beside Sully’s chair, waiting.

Sully hoped his sigh wasn’t audible. He saved his file and twined his fingers in Mac’s hair. “Yes, slave?”

“What do you want me to do today?”

Poor Mac, he really felt out of sorts with their plans upended.

“Chores around the house, take Clarisse to see Tad, stay there with her. Maybe take her out to dinner if she feels up to it.”

Mac looked up, startled. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Leave you alone all day?”

He moved the breakfast plate out of the way and tapped the corner of his desk. “Talk to me, Brant.”

Mac perched on the corner of the desk. The forced equality when in slave mode always knocked Mac mentally off balance. “I’m trying to wrap my head around it. I admit I need to let you be in charge of this, but it’s hard for me to not think about Betsy.”

“I know. Clarisse trusts you. She needs that in her life and I don’t begrudge it. I’m not jealous. I trust you.”

Mac laced his fingers together in his lap. “Thank you, Master,” he quietly said. “For helping her.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

He shrugged but didn’t respond.

“Brant, she’s Tad’s niece. There’s no way I wouldn’t help her, just on that basis alone. Yes, it pisses me off she’s scared of me, but I understand why and don’t blame her. I still wouldn’t walk away from the situation.”

Mac took Sully’s hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. “Thank you, Master.” He slipped off the desk and left the room, quietly closing the office door behind him.

Sully leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. What a mixed bag. Why was he doing this? He could have easily contacted the police yesterday morning as soon as they returned to port, helped her file a report, and got her set up at a cheap motel nearby within walking distance of Tad. That would have been more than generous. And Mac’s life wouldn’t have been completely upended, nightmares from his past returning to haunt him.

He closed his eyes and thought about her terrified blue gaze. He’d be lying if he denied he wanted a chance to erase her fear.

He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to her.

Too late to back out now.

After finishing his breakfast, Sully engrossed himself in his writing again. Just when he’d hit a groove, he heard her moving around in her bathroom next door, heard the toilet flush, the sink run.

Then her bedroom door opened and almost immediately Mac’s voice greeted her, full of forced cheer. He had expected Mac’s refusal to renegotiate the daily punishment strokes for wearing clothes. It didn’t mean it didn’t surprise him.

He waited a few minutes before carrying his empty coffee mug and plate out to the kitchen. He took great pains to circle around her to avoid where she sat at the counter. “Good morning, Clarisse.” He risked a glance at her.

“Good morning.” She didn’t look at him, studied the coffee mug and plate of food in front of her. Her hair hung loose, hiding her face.

She reminded him of a beat dog.

His sudden anger surprised him. If Bryan Jackson appeared on his doorstep, he would kill the fucker. Working hard to keep his rage in check, he slowly set down his mug and walked around the end of the counter to where she sat.

She didn’t turn her head, didn’t look at him.

He sensed Mac’s sudden tension and ignored it.

“Sweetie,” Sully softly said, “please look at me.”

He waited her out. After a long moment, she tilted her gaze toward him but didn’t fully lift her head.

He slowly reached out, hating that she flinched. He watched her tense, fight or flight instincts warring for control.

Undaunted, he swept her hair back and carefully tucked it behind her ears. Then he caught her chin. She didn’t resist when he tipped her face, her frightened blue eyes darting past him to Mac.

Again he waited her out, until her gaze settled on him and didn’t leave.

“May I ask a favor?” he asked.

She barely nodded.

“Would you please wear your hair back? For me? You have beautiful eyes.” He brushed the tip of her nose with his finger. “I’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes.”

Finally, the hint of a smile.

Mac snorted behind him. “I thought you loved my eyes.”

Sully’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “I love your ass, Mac. Yes, your eyes are nice, but hers are pretty. Do you really want me calling you

‘pretty eyes’?”

A little more of a smile. Her bruised flesh crinkled around the corners of her eyes.

Bingo.

“She has very pretty eyes,” Sully repeated.

Mac walked over, apparently understanding what Sully was trying to accomplish. “Yes, you’re right, Master. Her eyes are definitely prettier than mine.”

“I mean, I can make you wear a dress, if you really want me calling you pretty—”

“No, that’s okay, Master.”

Amused, she snorted a little. Sully read her posture, sensed her slight relaxation.

That’s when he gave her a broad, beaming smile and stepped back, out of her personal space. She didn’t drop her head, kept her eyes on him.

“I don’t know, Clarisse. You think I should make him wear a dress?”

A little more of an amused curl to her lips. “I think he’s more a tight jeans kind of guy. He does have a nice ass.” She blushed a little but didn’t look away.

“Score one for the girl,” Sully teased as he picked up his mug.

Mac had refilled it. He turned to Mac and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Lucky for you, I’m feeling charitable. Go find the tightest pair of jeans you can squeeze yourself into. No underwear.”

Mac looked startled, but went to do it while Clarisse actually laughed.

He’d guessed right—she had a beautiful, clear laugh. On that sweet note, he returned to his study but left the door cracked open.

Over the next hour or so, he heard them talking, the occasional laugh from Mac or Clarisse, the front door opening and shutting as they went outside, probably so Mac could show her around. Five minutes later, movement in the yard caught his eye through the window. Sure enough, Mac and Clarisse stood at the seawall, looking out at the bayou. Mac pointed to something. Clarisse nodded.

Sully smiled. She’d pulled her hair back into a low ponytail.

Good girl.

He wouldn’t force her, wouldn’t rush her. But maybe that tiny breach in her defenses would be enough to start her on the road to trusting him.

She said something, because Mac laughed. Then a moment later, he frowned and pulled her to him.

Sully forced himself to stay seated and watch, fought the urge to race downstairs.

To help Mac console her.

Her entire body shook with the force of her sobs as Mac guided her down to the grass, where he held her cradled tenderly against him.

Sully felt pain in his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists, his nails digging into his flesh.

She’d been deeply wounded. Her physical injuries were already healing but how long to heal her psyche? To restore her trust and get her to a point where she could be a fully functioning human again?

Would she ever stop flinching when he moved toward her? Would there ever come a point when a stern voice wouldn’t set into motion an ingrained series of protective responses?

Tad’s implied suggestion came back to him. It was far too soon to entertain any ideas along that line. Unfortunately, with the idea planted in his mind, it had quickly taken root and sprouted no matter how impractical it sounded.

Tad knew they weren’t gay, had teased the men many times about their almost identical head pivots as they followed a pretty woman’s progress with their eyes.

Not to mention the fact that after what Clarisse had been through, the last kind of relationship she’d probably ever want would be the only kind they could give her.

He watched as Mac pressed a kiss to the top of her head before she sat up and wiped at her face. He said something, prompting a nod from her.

Did he miss women? Yes. Not Cybil, not after what she’d put him through. There were nights he’d lie in bed with Mac sleeping soundly next to him and wish for the soft curves of a feminine body.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Mac.

Another thing he’d never admit—he was scared to ask Mac if he missed women too, not sure if he’d like the answer.

Sully closed his office door before they returned. He heard them talking in the living room. Then her bedroom door opened and shut, the sound of the shower coming on in her bathroom.

A soft knock sounded at his door.

“Come.”

Mac walked in. “We’re going to see Tad after she gets her shower.”

Sully reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He handed Mac a credit card. “Use this if you need it.”

Mac took it. “Thank you, Master.” He didn’t leave.

“What?”

“Are you really okay with this?”

Sully felt a cold thread of fear slowly wind its way through his soul. “Why wouldn’t I be, slave?”

“Because I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

He studied Mac. He knew Mac went out of his way to walk a narrow path with him, not because he demanded it, but because Mac had helped him through the emotional aftermath of his shooting and divorce and wanted to keep his trust. “I have every confidence that you won’t disappoint me.”

Mac leaned in and kissed him. “Thank you, Master.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Getting back to his writing wasn’t easy. He heard the shower shut off, then her bedroom door open a few minutes later. The sound of them talking in the living room before the front door opened and closed. Silence descended. Then the sound of Mac’s truck starting and pulling out of the driveway.

Alone.

He tried to throw himself back into his manuscript.

Around three-thirty, he heard Mac’s truck return. The front door.

Voices. Her bedroom door opening and closing. Bathroom noises.

Then…

Nothing.

Sully looked up from his computer and waited.

Five minutes later, he walked out to the kitchen. Mac sat at the counter, a cookbook opened in front of him.

“You guys are back early.”

“She’s tired. She didn’t feel like going out to eat. I told her to lie down and take a nap.”

He watched Mac, how he massaged his forehead, a sure sign of stress. Sully walked around the counter and rubbed his shoulders.

“You okay, Brant?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“No. I want to kill the fucking bastard. Is that normal?”

Sully snorted with amusement. “Yeah. I’d worry about you if you didn’t.”

Mac prepared one of Sully’s favorites, a savory chicken casserole he hadn’t cooked in a while. At dinner time, Sully heard Mac tap on Clarisse’s door.

Nothing.

He tapped again, then finally opened the bedroom door and stepped inside when he received no response.

Sully left his chair and walked down the hall. He stood just outside her doorway and listened. Clarisse’s low voice sounded sleepy. Mac’s soft, warm chuckle. Then Mac reappeared, nearly running into him.

Sully led him to the kitchen. “She okay?”

He looked sad. “Yeah. She was sound asleep, poor thing. It’s caught up with her.”

She joined them at the table a few minutes later. She’d remembered to pull her hair back. That pleased Sully. Mac held her chair for her, which seemed to surprise her.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Sully asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Mac kept up a nervous running conversation. Sully spotted the deep exhaustion painted on her face. When they finished eating, before she could offer to help with the dishes, Sully stood and grabbed his plate and hers. “Sweetie, you go chill out, seriously.

We’ll clean up. You need to rest.”

Without a word, she slowly returned to her room. The men sadly watched her go. Mac took the plates from Sully.

“Good show, Master,” he snarked.

Sully smiled and picked up the casserole dish. “Maybe I was planning to help you.”

Mac snorted, laughing. “Since when do you do dishes?”

“Whenever I want. I’m the Master.”