Sunday, March 18, 2018
Sunday's Safe Word Shelf: Beyond the Footlights by Jaime Samms Off Stage Part 2
Kilmer and Jackoâs relationship has been foundering for a long time. With the end in sight and despairing that he might never find a Dom who suits him, Kilmer heads to a local bar to drown his sorrowsâand meets country singer Tanner.
Tanner feels oddly protective of the broken man and eventually convinces Kilmer to hire him to help remodel the small, sad house Kilmer once shared with Jacko. As Tanner and Kilmer get to know each other, Kilmer regains his lost independence and Tannerâs dominant streak rises to the surface. But will it be a help or a hindrance to the trust theyâre trying to build?
The answer might lie in the music Kilmer gave up not long after he met Jacko. Music always granted him solace, clarity, and an outlet for his emotions, and with Tannerâs encouragement, he picks up where he left off. Playing together eases them into honest communication, and though a happily ever after will still take patience and work, taking a chance on each other sounds sweeter with every note.
Chapter One
KILMER CAME back to âpresent and accounted forâ as the front door of Vanceâs spacious farmhouse flew open. Kilmer was standing on the porch with little idea how heâd gotten there. Light bright enough to make him wince flared into his face. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes, and grimaced.
âKil?â Vanceâs deep voice rumbled through his gut. So familiar because it had once been his touchstone. But Vance sounded so different from Jacko. Had he really not noticed the cool tones in Jackoâs commands that he had learned to heed over the past four years? How had he never noticed the difference? Vance was so⊠soânot his anymore.
âWhat are you doinâ here?â Vance grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. âWhere are your shoes?â
âIââ Kilmer glanced down at his bare feet. Maybe they were still in the car. He couldnât remember.
âJackoâs been callinâ every five minutes. What happened?â
âVance?â Lenâs voice this time, from where he stood on the stairs. âHeâs on the phone again. What do I tell him?â
âHeâs here. Heâs safe. Tell him to fuck the hell off.â
âUm.â Lenâs light steps pattered down a few more stairs. He held the phone out to Kilmer. âYou want to talk to him?â
Kilmer took the phone and hit the End button. He handed the receiver to Vance.
âOkay, then,â Len said, voice small but comforting. âCome upstairs.â
They led him, Len in front, and Vance behind like he was afraid Kilmer would fall back down the stairs if he wasnât there to catch him.
Kilmer felt unsteady and vacant. He wasnât so sure Vance was wrong to stay where he could catch Kilmer if he stumbled. They made it all the way up, though, and Kilmer continued to follow Len as he led him into their bedroom.
Another bedroom? Now?
Kilmer faltered just inside the doorway.
âOkay.â Vance laid a hand at the small of his back and Kilmer flinched away, because he was covered in a strangerâs mess and even through the cotton shirt, Vance shouldnât touch that. âCome on.â Vance powered him forward with that touch anyway, either not noticing or ignoring it all. âSit.â
Kilmer was guided to the bed and he collapsed onto the edge of the mattress.
âSpill,â Vance demanded.
Kilmer shook his head. He didnât know what to say. He couldnâtâŠ. He looked up into Vanceâs face and saw concern. Worry. No little amount of anger. He turned away from the storm of emotion.
âIt wasnât his fault,â Kilmer said dully. âI knew what I was doinâ. I justâŠ.â
âWhat were you doinâ?â Vance asked.
Kilmer hefted his gaze up to meet Vanceâs. âEndinâ it. In the worst way possible. Iââ Heâd taken Jackoâs trust and twisted it into barbed wire and insult. Heâd hammered the last nail into the coffin of their relationship and let the tiny little bell toll the last gasp of it at Jackoâs feet.
âFrom the beginninâ,â Vance said, a hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. âTake your time, but tell me everythinâ.â
And because in that moment he needed so very badly to have a rule, a lead, one small thing to believe could be real, he took it for a command and he told.
By the end he was sandwiched between them, Len on one side, arm wrapped snuggly around his waist, Vance on the other, hand still at the back of his neck, kneading gently. Both of them had their other hands on him, one on each of his forearms.
âSo I left.â Kilmer looked at Vance. âI⊠donât actually remember that part. Gettinâ in the car and leavinâ.â Though he did have that vision of Jacko on the lawn, barefoot, bare-chested, the looming image of Rocky, broad and strong and waiting in the light of the front door.
âAnd drivinâ?â Vance asked.
Kilmer shook his head. Heâd driven the path between his bungalow and the Texas Ex ranch so many times he could do it in his sleep. This time, apparently, he had. It chilled him to realize he had no memory of the drive. Had he turned his headlights on? Had he taken that last turn, the hairpin around the foot of the moraine, wide? How close had he come to the guardrails along the ravine and up over the steep rise? He shuddered. So many ways to die on that stretch of country road.
âOkay,â Vance said, like he had a million times over the past hour as Kilmer haltingly told his story. âYou need to shower. You want help?â
Help? Who was going to help him? He shook his head. âI can manage.â He met Vanceâs eyes. âIâm okay. I know where everythinâ is. Iâll take the room up here, though. That okay?â Because he didnât want to sleep in his usual accommodations in the room off the kitchen. It was plain and decent, but it was the helpâs space. Barren, just like the spare room at⊠home.
âYouâll shower here,â Vance decided, pointing to the en suite. âLen, can you find him somethinâ to put on?â
âSure.â Len jumped up and hurried to the dresser. He found a T-shirt and sweats that had to be Vanceâs because there was no way Lenâs tiny frame would hold on to the clothes.
The phone rang and Vance picked up. He didnât even say hello. âHe made it here alive. Donât call again.â He hung up.
Kilmer could have kissed him for that. And he could have crumpled to the floor to cry. He stood very still so he didnât actually do either.
Len stepped forward and offered the clothing.
Kilmer accepted them and meekly headed into the bathroom. He really should just go across the hall. But both his friends seemed willing to keep him close, and maybe, for just tonight, that was okay. It was what he wanted.
To be okay.
He shucked his jeans, showered, and dried off. His own clothes had been magicked away, so he donned the clean clothes, then peered back out to the bedroom. Vance was sitting up in bed. Len was curled on his side, back to the bathroom, knees up tight, possibly asleep.
âI appreciate this,â Kilmer said, keeping his vice low. âStill want to sleep up here, though.â To Vance he could admit the weakness. Tonight he could be weak. Just this once because Vance knew him.
âCome here.â Vance peeled back the covers and patted the mattress between him and Len.
âNo, Vanââ
âLie down,â Len said sleepily. âGet some rest.â
Kilmerâs throat closed, tight and aching. He nodded and climbed up from the foot of the bed, to lie on his back between them. Almost immediately Len rolled over and slung an arm across his chest.
âNight,â Len whispered.
Kilmer glanced at Vance, who shrugged, clicked out the bedside lamp, and shimmied down on Kilmerâs other side.
âYou need care,â Vance said matter-of-factly. âGo to sleep.â He planted a kiss on Kilmerâs hair and laced his fingers with Lenâs.
They werenât touching, but Kilmer could feel Vanceâs weight and presence, even his heat. Despite the sting behind his eyes, he managed to settle. It wasnât a solution, but it was a hell of a lot closer to okay here, in the oddness of his friendsâ bed, than it had been in the familiarity of his own Domâs hands.
He didnât think he would ever sleep, and then he was waking up to sunshine and the smell of coffee.
Chapter Two
KILMER ROLLED onto his back and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was the only one still in bed. The sun was high enough to stream through the window, telling him it was well past his usual wake-up time. The door to the suiteâs bathroom was closed, but he heard the shower running. Good. That gave him space to sneak out of the room and hopefully out the back door and into the barn, where he could find some work clothes, get a shovel, and pretend last night had not happened.
Except for the chasm of empty in his gut where all his trust in Jacko had been. Or⊠had Kilmer been the one to destroy that? He poked about in the shards of his broken relationship but found no real clues as to who had landed the final shattering hammerblow.
Quietly he got up, gathered up T-shirt and jeans from a pile of clean clothes tossed on the foot of the bed. No sign of his boots. He must have left those in the car. He pulled on the jeans, still warm from the dryer, and headed for the stairs, shirt in hand.
The jeans, he realized, werenât his. They were too long and slipped down his hips, so they had to be Vanceâs, but it didnât matter. Theyâd cover his ass for the short jog from house to barn, where likely a pair of his own hung in the tack room. Heâd return these later.
Halfway to the landing, he heard the clattering of dishes in the kitchen and Lenâs sweet tenor humming away.
Shit. No escape through the back, then. Len would see him and Kilmer would have to talk. He scrambled down the last few steps and tried a dash for the front door instead. He could hightail it around the house to freedom.
A heavy thudding sounded just as he touched the handle, shaking the door with the weight of it. He knewâhe just knew it was Jacko. Thankfully the curtain hid him from view.
Spinning, he dodged into the office and closed the door most of the way behind him. Footsteps from the kitchen heralded Lenâs approach. The front door opened, and he faintly heard a greeting in a low rumbling voice that shook his already unsteady guts into gelatinous goo.
He rested his head on the office doorframe and tried to breathe through the sticky mess.
âWhat are you doing here?â Len asked coldly.
âWhere is he?â Jackoâs bass voice filled the entire front room.
âSleeping.â
âI need to see him.â
âYou fucked up.â Lenâs voice was flat, dead of emotion, like a concrete barrier between Jacko and anything the fiery little redhead cared about.
âNot your business, boy,â Jacko rumbled.
Len made a furious noise. The sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs followed. Kilmer peered out the crack between the office door and its frame as Vance passed, headed for the front door. His friend was dressed in a pair of faded jeans too tight for the button to fasten. His chest still glistened with water.
âWatch how you address my partner,â Vance growled. He placed a hand on Lenâs shoulder and stood at his back, a head and more taller than his lover but not towering over him. Just there.
âAlways been your problem, Vance,â Jacko said. âYou give them too much leeway. You ruined Kilmer. Look at him now. Canât get the boy to behave no matter what I do.â
âJacko,â Vance said in warning.
There was a long silence. Feet shuffled, and finally Jacko spoke. âI handled him badly.â
âYou think?â Len responded with venom and Vanceâs fingers on his shoulder tightened. âI mean,â Len said, subduing his tone though the anger in his expression remained, âmaybe instead of handling him, you should have listened to him.â
Kilmer sighed. Maybe Len was right, but that was not Jackoâs way. He dictated. Jacko needed a boy who liked that about him, not one who wanted to second-guess him, who wanted to speak his mindâto defy the very thing Jacko based his dominance on every chance he got. There was a line between intelligently thinking through your Masterâs decisions and flagrantly defying the ones you didnât like. Kilmer had crossed that line some time ago and hadnât really noticed until it was too late. Perhaps he had defied the spirit of their initial contract, but Jacko had steadfastly refused to renegotiate. Kilmer had an obligation to them both to be true to himself and keep trying.
âLen,â Vance said softly. âJacko and Kilmer have a different kind of dynamic than we do.â
âJacko does, maybe,â Len said. âKil doesnât, and youââLen pointed a finger at Jackoââneed to get that before you lose him.â
To Kilmerâs surprise, Jacko nodded. âI do get it.â
âIâm not sure you do.â Vance sounded skeptical.
âHeâs special,â Jacko said. âI know that. And Iâve not allowed him to express it.â
Fuck. He couldnât hide here and listen to them discussing him like he was an interesting problem to solve. He was a human being and Jacko had fucked up. Kilmer had fucked up. The whole fucking thing was fucked the hell up.
âItâs all right,â he said, emerging from hiding.
âYou sure?â Vance asked.
Kilmer nodded. âYou mind?â He pointed back to the office and Vance dipped his chin in assent.
âYou need anything, just call. Weâll be in the kitchen.â
Kilmer gave him the best big-boy smile he could muster and motioned Jacko past him into the room. âThanks. Iâll be fine.â
How many times had he told Vance that? Every night for how long now, as he climbed into his car and headed for home, heâd said some version of it. How often had he lied to his best friend? He offered an apologetic shrug as Vance turned to give him one last out.
âI gotta do this.â That at least was true.
Inside the room, with the door closed, he turned to face Jacko, braced for his Domâs disapproval.
âYou scared the ever-loving crap out of me last night, boy,â Jacko rumbled. And that had to be true because it was the closest Kilmer had ever heard Jacko come to swearing.
âIâm sorry.â
âWhat happened? Everything was fine, and then you were losing itââ
âYou really think everythinâ is fine?â Kilmer asked.
âIt was when you were on your knees. You live for thatââ
âFor you, SiâJacko.â He pulled in a deep breath at the stiffening of Jackoâs posture. He didnât like when Kilmer used his name. It wasnât supposed to be how they worked. But they were broken, and if Jacko didnât realize how badly, this might be the only way to show him. As much as it killed to call him anything other than âSir,â Kilmer could no longer give him that much.
âWhat?â Jacko stared at him, more intent than angry, and that was actually more unsettling than if heâd lost his temper.
âI lived for you to be that guy,â Kilmer said. âMy⊠touchstone. My rock. Whatever. I did everything you asked when it was you and me. I let you do things no one else has ever been allowed to do because I trusted you to take care of me.â
âAnd I do.â
âNo.â Kilmerâs voice shook. âNot lately. Lately youâve taken care of your own hurt feelings or embarrassment or whatever the hell you want to call it when I do things like stand up for a friend, instead of fawning at your feet and agreeing with you when youâre wrong.â
âYou know your place, boy,â Jacko said, taking a step toward him.
âI thought I did, yes.â Kilmer ached to move closer, to agree with Jacko, to give the older man what he wanted. Give in and have the comfort of his man in his bed again, strong hands to hold him down and give him a place when he was so far from the home heâd grown up in.
But he couldnât. He could never give in to that temptation again, because Jacko had shown him last night something heâd tried hard for a very long time to ignore. Jacko was Kilmerâs Dom. Not his lover. Not his partner. Barely even his friend. And Kilmer couldnât live with that kind of relationship any more than he could have lived with Vanceâs version of dominance.
âI guess thatâs the problem, isnât it?â Jacko asked. âYou always need to think these days. Analyze what weâre doing, instead of just doing it.â
Kilmer stared at him. âYes.â It was a pretty simple statement in the end. Kilmer had a brain and he used it. Jacko wanted blind obedience.
âWhy?â The plea in Jackoâs voice caught Kilmer off guard. âWhy now? You never did before. You followed my lead. You let me make the decisions. You did as you were told.â
âBecauseâŠ.â Kilmer faltered. Had he been that pliable? Heâd never been so with Vance. Well. Maybe that wasnât true either.
When heâd been a young man living in Texas, being gay was a trial. He and Vance had bonded over it, and when Vance fled the state and eventually the country to follow his rising musical star, Kilmer followed.
Vance had used the copious amounts of money he made as a country singer to buy this spread in rural Ontario. Heâd asked Kilmer to come run it for him when he was on the road, and Kilmer jumped at the chance.
He loved his tight-knit family back in Texas. He did not love how he had to hide so much of himself for them to love him back.
Besides, he and Vance had made a good team. Back home they had been compatible friends and lovers, off and on, for a long time. Then Vance left on his quest for fame. Kilmer saw the tabloid gossip as Vance tumbled downhill fast, drinking too much and screwing indiscriminately. He needed a home and someone to keep it for him. He needed stability. Kilmer could save the domineering singer from himself and make that home. So he packed up and moved to Ontario and into Vanceâs life. They picked up their affair where it had dropped off, and Kilmer loved that somewhere along the way, Vance had learned to control his dominance. Kilmer was happy to let the control seep over into their sex life.
Vance wanted a partner in the business and a submissive lover in bed. He wanted a thinking, rational, capable man to run his land and his life when he was busy touring with his music. As long as Vance wasnât on the scene, Kilmer had delivered, but heâd been unable to subordinate himself to Vance in bed and still maintain his autonomy out of it when Vance came home. It was his own weakness, and he knew it.
The moment Vance came home, Kilmer fell into a pattern of needy uselessness neither of them liked. Their friendship thankfully turned out to be stronger than their love affair, and they let the latter go to preserve the former. They were good friends now, and made a strong, successful business team.
Len and Vance worked because Len wasnât running the ranch or any other part of Vanceâs life. He was his submissive, his lover, and his friend, and he had a life of his own in the music world, was a rock star in his own right. They worked because the personal power dynamic didnât touch their professional lives.
With his success running the ranch, Kilmer had been so sure he was strong enough to take another Dom and not fall into the same trap. He met Jacko at the bar in town when heâd been playing bass for a house band. They clicked. Kilmer felt sure here was a man strong enough to understand the side of Kilmer that could run a ranch. They had music in common, and Jacko could put Kilmer on his knees with a word and a hand placed just right. That didnât mean Kilmer would fall under the spell like he had last time. He was still his own man. Jacko would not run his life. Heâd been so confident.
Had he failed so utterly?
âBoy.â
Jackoâs stern voice shook him, and he shrugged both shoulders to throw off the yoke before it could settle.
âNot anymore.â
KILMER CAME back to âpresent and accounted forâ as the front door of Vanceâs spacious farmhouse flew open. Kilmer was standing on the porch with little idea how heâd gotten there. Light bright enough to make him wince flared into his face. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes, and grimaced.
âKil?â Vanceâs deep voice rumbled through his gut. So familiar because it had once been his touchstone. But Vance sounded so different from Jacko. Had he really not noticed the cool tones in Jackoâs commands that he had learned to heed over the past four years? How had he never noticed the difference? Vance was so⊠soânot his anymore.
âWhat are you doinâ here?â Vance grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. âWhere are your shoes?â
âIââ Kilmer glanced down at his bare feet. Maybe they were still in the car. He couldnât remember.
âJackoâs been callinâ every five minutes. What happened?â
âVance?â Lenâs voice this time, from where he stood on the stairs. âHeâs on the phone again. What do I tell him?â
âHeâs here. Heâs safe. Tell him to fuck the hell off.â
âUm.â Lenâs light steps pattered down a few more stairs. He held the phone out to Kilmer. âYou want to talk to him?â
Kilmer took the phone and hit the End button. He handed the receiver to Vance.
âOkay, then,â Len said, voice small but comforting. âCome upstairs.â
They led him, Len in front, and Vance behind like he was afraid Kilmer would fall back down the stairs if he wasnât there to catch him.
Kilmer felt unsteady and vacant. He wasnât so sure Vance was wrong to stay where he could catch Kilmer if he stumbled. They made it all the way up, though, and Kilmer continued to follow Len as he led him into their bedroom.
Another bedroom? Now?
Kilmer faltered just inside the doorway.
âOkay.â Vance laid a hand at the small of his back and Kilmer flinched away, because he was covered in a strangerâs mess and even through the cotton shirt, Vance shouldnât touch that. âCome on.â Vance powered him forward with that touch anyway, either not noticing or ignoring it all. âSit.â
Kilmer was guided to the bed and he collapsed onto the edge of the mattress.
âSpill,â Vance demanded.
Kilmer shook his head. He didnât know what to say. He couldnâtâŠ. He looked up into Vanceâs face and saw concern. Worry. No little amount of anger. He turned away from the storm of emotion.
âIt wasnât his fault,â Kilmer said dully. âI knew what I was doinâ. I justâŠ.â
âWhat were you doinâ?â Vance asked.
Kilmer hefted his gaze up to meet Vanceâs. âEndinâ it. In the worst way possible. Iââ Heâd taken Jackoâs trust and twisted it into barbed wire and insult. Heâd hammered the last nail into the coffin of their relationship and let the tiny little bell toll the last gasp of it at Jackoâs feet.
âFrom the beginninâ,â Vance said, a hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. âTake your time, but tell me everythinâ.â
And because in that moment he needed so very badly to have a rule, a lead, one small thing to believe could be real, he took it for a command and he told.
By the end he was sandwiched between them, Len on one side, arm wrapped snuggly around his waist, Vance on the other, hand still at the back of his neck, kneading gently. Both of them had their other hands on him, one on each of his forearms.
âSo I left.â Kilmer looked at Vance. âI⊠donât actually remember that part. Gettinâ in the car and leavinâ.â Though he did have that vision of Jacko on the lawn, barefoot, bare-chested, the looming image of Rocky, broad and strong and waiting in the light of the front door.
âAnd drivinâ?â Vance asked.
Kilmer shook his head. Heâd driven the path between his bungalow and the Texas Ex ranch so many times he could do it in his sleep. This time, apparently, he had. It chilled him to realize he had no memory of the drive. Had he turned his headlights on? Had he taken that last turn, the hairpin around the foot of the moraine, wide? How close had he come to the guardrails along the ravine and up over the steep rise? He shuddered. So many ways to die on that stretch of country road.
âOkay,â Vance said, like he had a million times over the past hour as Kilmer haltingly told his story. âYou need to shower. You want help?â
Help? Who was going to help him? He shook his head. âI can manage.â He met Vanceâs eyes. âIâm okay. I know where everythinâ is. Iâll take the room up here, though. That okay?â Because he didnât want to sleep in his usual accommodations in the room off the kitchen. It was plain and decent, but it was the helpâs space. Barren, just like the spare room at⊠home.
âYouâll shower here,â Vance decided, pointing to the en suite. âLen, can you find him somethinâ to put on?â
âSure.â Len jumped up and hurried to the dresser. He found a T-shirt and sweats that had to be Vanceâs because there was no way Lenâs tiny frame would hold on to the clothes.
The phone rang and Vance picked up. He didnât even say hello. âHe made it here alive. Donât call again.â He hung up.
Kilmer could have kissed him for that. And he could have crumpled to the floor to cry. He stood very still so he didnât actually do either.
Len stepped forward and offered the clothing.
Kilmer accepted them and meekly headed into the bathroom. He really should just go across the hall. But both his friends seemed willing to keep him close, and maybe, for just tonight, that was okay. It was what he wanted.
To be okay.
He shucked his jeans, showered, and dried off. His own clothes had been magicked away, so he donned the clean clothes, then peered back out to the bedroom. Vance was sitting up in bed. Len was curled on his side, back to the bathroom, knees up tight, possibly asleep.
âI appreciate this,â Kilmer said, keeping his vice low. âStill want to sleep up here, though.â To Vance he could admit the weakness. Tonight he could be weak. Just this once because Vance knew him.
âCome here.â Vance peeled back the covers and patted the mattress between him and Len.
âNo, Vanââ
âLie down,â Len said sleepily. âGet some rest.â
Kilmerâs throat closed, tight and aching. He nodded and climbed up from the foot of the bed, to lie on his back between them. Almost immediately Len rolled over and slung an arm across his chest.
âNight,â Len whispered.
Kilmer glanced at Vance, who shrugged, clicked out the bedside lamp, and shimmied down on Kilmerâs other side.
âYou need care,â Vance said matter-of-factly. âGo to sleep.â He planted a kiss on Kilmerâs hair and laced his fingers with Lenâs.
They werenât touching, but Kilmer could feel Vanceâs weight and presence, even his heat. Despite the sting behind his eyes, he managed to settle. It wasnât a solution, but it was a hell of a lot closer to okay here, in the oddness of his friendsâ bed, than it had been in the familiarity of his own Domâs hands.
He didnât think he would ever sleep, and then he was waking up to sunshine and the smell of coffee.
Chapter Two
KILMER ROLLED onto his back and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was the only one still in bed. The sun was high enough to stream through the window, telling him it was well past his usual wake-up time. The door to the suiteâs bathroom was closed, but he heard the shower running. Good. That gave him space to sneak out of the room and hopefully out the back door and into the barn, where he could find some work clothes, get a shovel, and pretend last night had not happened.
Except for the chasm of empty in his gut where all his trust in Jacko had been. Or⊠had Kilmer been the one to destroy that? He poked about in the shards of his broken relationship but found no real clues as to who had landed the final shattering hammerblow.
Quietly he got up, gathered up T-shirt and jeans from a pile of clean clothes tossed on the foot of the bed. No sign of his boots. He must have left those in the car. He pulled on the jeans, still warm from the dryer, and headed for the stairs, shirt in hand.
The jeans, he realized, werenât his. They were too long and slipped down his hips, so they had to be Vanceâs, but it didnât matter. Theyâd cover his ass for the short jog from house to barn, where likely a pair of his own hung in the tack room. Heâd return these later.
Halfway to the landing, he heard the clattering of dishes in the kitchen and Lenâs sweet tenor humming away.
Shit. No escape through the back, then. Len would see him and Kilmer would have to talk. He scrambled down the last few steps and tried a dash for the front door instead. He could hightail it around the house to freedom.
A heavy thudding sounded just as he touched the handle, shaking the door with the weight of it. He knewâhe just knew it was Jacko. Thankfully the curtain hid him from view.
Spinning, he dodged into the office and closed the door most of the way behind him. Footsteps from the kitchen heralded Lenâs approach. The front door opened, and he faintly heard a greeting in a low rumbling voice that shook his already unsteady guts into gelatinous goo.
He rested his head on the office doorframe and tried to breathe through the sticky mess.
âWhat are you doing here?â Len asked coldly.
âWhere is he?â Jackoâs bass voice filled the entire front room.
âSleeping.â
âI need to see him.â
âYou fucked up.â Lenâs voice was flat, dead of emotion, like a concrete barrier between Jacko and anything the fiery little redhead cared about.
âNot your business, boy,â Jacko rumbled.
Len made a furious noise. The sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs followed. Kilmer peered out the crack between the office door and its frame as Vance passed, headed for the front door. His friend was dressed in a pair of faded jeans too tight for the button to fasten. His chest still glistened with water.
âWatch how you address my partner,â Vance growled. He placed a hand on Lenâs shoulder and stood at his back, a head and more taller than his lover but not towering over him. Just there.
âAlways been your problem, Vance,â Jacko said. âYou give them too much leeway. You ruined Kilmer. Look at him now. Canât get the boy to behave no matter what I do.â
âJacko,â Vance said in warning.
There was a long silence. Feet shuffled, and finally Jacko spoke. âI handled him badly.â
âYou think?â Len responded with venom and Vanceâs fingers on his shoulder tightened. âI mean,â Len said, subduing his tone though the anger in his expression remained, âmaybe instead of handling him, you should have listened to him.â
Kilmer sighed. Maybe Len was right, but that was not Jackoâs way. He dictated. Jacko needed a boy who liked that about him, not one who wanted to second-guess him, who wanted to speak his mindâto defy the very thing Jacko based his dominance on every chance he got. There was a line between intelligently thinking through your Masterâs decisions and flagrantly defying the ones you didnât like. Kilmer had crossed that line some time ago and hadnât really noticed until it was too late. Perhaps he had defied the spirit of their initial contract, but Jacko had steadfastly refused to renegotiate. Kilmer had an obligation to them both to be true to himself and keep trying.
âLen,â Vance said softly. âJacko and Kilmer have a different kind of dynamic than we do.â
âJacko does, maybe,â Len said. âKil doesnât, and youââLen pointed a finger at Jackoââneed to get that before you lose him.â
To Kilmerâs surprise, Jacko nodded. âI do get it.â
âIâm not sure you do.â Vance sounded skeptical.
âHeâs special,â Jacko said. âI know that. And Iâve not allowed him to express it.â
Fuck. He couldnât hide here and listen to them discussing him like he was an interesting problem to solve. He was a human being and Jacko had fucked up. Kilmer had fucked up. The whole fucking thing was fucked the hell up.
âItâs all right,â he said, emerging from hiding.
âYou sure?â Vance asked.
Kilmer nodded. âYou mind?â He pointed back to the office and Vance dipped his chin in assent.
âYou need anything, just call. Weâll be in the kitchen.â
Kilmer gave him the best big-boy smile he could muster and motioned Jacko past him into the room. âThanks. Iâll be fine.â
How many times had he told Vance that? Every night for how long now, as he climbed into his car and headed for home, heâd said some version of it. How often had he lied to his best friend? He offered an apologetic shrug as Vance turned to give him one last out.
âI gotta do this.â That at least was true.
Inside the room, with the door closed, he turned to face Jacko, braced for his Domâs disapproval.
âYou scared the ever-loving crap out of me last night, boy,â Jacko rumbled. And that had to be true because it was the closest Kilmer had ever heard Jacko come to swearing.
âIâm sorry.â
âWhat happened? Everything was fine, and then you were losing itââ
âYou really think everythinâ is fine?â Kilmer asked.
âIt was when you were on your knees. You live for thatââ
âFor you, SiâJacko.â He pulled in a deep breath at the stiffening of Jackoâs posture. He didnât like when Kilmer used his name. It wasnât supposed to be how they worked. But they were broken, and if Jacko didnât realize how badly, this might be the only way to show him. As much as it killed to call him anything other than âSir,â Kilmer could no longer give him that much.
âWhat?â Jacko stared at him, more intent than angry, and that was actually more unsettling than if heâd lost his temper.
âI lived for you to be that guy,â Kilmer said. âMy⊠touchstone. My rock. Whatever. I did everything you asked when it was you and me. I let you do things no one else has ever been allowed to do because I trusted you to take care of me.â
âAnd I do.â
âNo.â Kilmerâs voice shook. âNot lately. Lately youâve taken care of your own hurt feelings or embarrassment or whatever the hell you want to call it when I do things like stand up for a friend, instead of fawning at your feet and agreeing with you when youâre wrong.â
âYou know your place, boy,â Jacko said, taking a step toward him.
âI thought I did, yes.â Kilmer ached to move closer, to agree with Jacko, to give the older man what he wanted. Give in and have the comfort of his man in his bed again, strong hands to hold him down and give him a place when he was so far from the home heâd grown up in.
But he couldnât. He could never give in to that temptation again, because Jacko had shown him last night something heâd tried hard for a very long time to ignore. Jacko was Kilmerâs Dom. Not his lover. Not his partner. Barely even his friend. And Kilmer couldnât live with that kind of relationship any more than he could have lived with Vanceâs version of dominance.
âI guess thatâs the problem, isnât it?â Jacko asked. âYou always need to think these days. Analyze what weâre doing, instead of just doing it.â
Kilmer stared at him. âYes.â It was a pretty simple statement in the end. Kilmer had a brain and he used it. Jacko wanted blind obedience.
âWhy?â The plea in Jackoâs voice caught Kilmer off guard. âWhy now? You never did before. You followed my lead. You let me make the decisions. You did as you were told.â
âBecauseâŠ.â Kilmer faltered. Had he been that pliable? Heâd never been so with Vance. Well. Maybe that wasnât true either.
When heâd been a young man living in Texas, being gay was a trial. He and Vance had bonded over it, and when Vance fled the state and eventually the country to follow his rising musical star, Kilmer followed.
Vance had used the copious amounts of money he made as a country singer to buy this spread in rural Ontario. Heâd asked Kilmer to come run it for him when he was on the road, and Kilmer jumped at the chance.
He loved his tight-knit family back in Texas. He did not love how he had to hide so much of himself for them to love him back.
Besides, he and Vance had made a good team. Back home they had been compatible friends and lovers, off and on, for a long time. Then Vance left on his quest for fame. Kilmer saw the tabloid gossip as Vance tumbled downhill fast, drinking too much and screwing indiscriminately. He needed a home and someone to keep it for him. He needed stability. Kilmer could save the domineering singer from himself and make that home. So he packed up and moved to Ontario and into Vanceâs life. They picked up their affair where it had dropped off, and Kilmer loved that somewhere along the way, Vance had learned to control his dominance. Kilmer was happy to let the control seep over into their sex life.
Vance wanted a partner in the business and a submissive lover in bed. He wanted a thinking, rational, capable man to run his land and his life when he was busy touring with his music. As long as Vance wasnât on the scene, Kilmer had delivered, but heâd been unable to subordinate himself to Vance in bed and still maintain his autonomy out of it when Vance came home. It was his own weakness, and he knew it.
The moment Vance came home, Kilmer fell into a pattern of needy uselessness neither of them liked. Their friendship thankfully turned out to be stronger than their love affair, and they let the latter go to preserve the former. They were good friends now, and made a strong, successful business team.
Len and Vance worked because Len wasnât running the ranch or any other part of Vanceâs life. He was his submissive, his lover, and his friend, and he had a life of his own in the music world, was a rock star in his own right. They worked because the personal power dynamic didnât touch their professional lives.
With his success running the ranch, Kilmer had been so sure he was strong enough to take another Dom and not fall into the same trap. He met Jacko at the bar in town when heâd been playing bass for a house band. They clicked. Kilmer felt sure here was a man strong enough to understand the side of Kilmer that could run a ranch. They had music in common, and Jacko could put Kilmer on his knees with a word and a hand placed just right. That didnât mean Kilmer would fall under the spell like he had last time. He was still his own man. Jacko would not run his life. Heâd been so confident.
Had he failed so utterly?
âBoy.â
Jackoâs stern voice shook him, and he shrugged both shoulders to throw off the yoke before it could settle.
âNot anymore.â
Author Bio:
With most of the hours in the day taken up by a part time job and the full time occupation of raising and schooling two kids, writing is somewhat of an indulgence, but it's the indulgences that keep us sane, right? When not otherwise occupied, like most writers, reading is my relaxation method of choice, and you can find my reviews at Kuriousity and Dark Diva Reviews to let you know what I liked (and occasionally, what I didn't). And just in case there are an extra few minutes in the day, I also help out the admin team abelong to a writer's critique group: Dreaming in Ink. After all, idle hands and all that.
KOBO / SMASHWORDS / PINTEREST
EMAIL: jaime.samms@gmail.com
KOBO / iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY
Release Blitz: Dusk by TA Creech
Title: Dusk
Author: TA Creech
Series: Expedition 63 #1
Genre: M/M Romance, Science Fiction, Erotic
Release Date: March 17, 2018
Publisher: JMS Books
Summary:When contact is lost with Mission Control, Commander John Dennington isnât overly concerned. Such hiccups in communication are common. The first inkling of the larger problem occurs when he sees the very shape of the world change before his eyes.
John must ease his crew into a new mission and keep the Station together by any means necessary. The crew jeopardizes their chances by fighting his orders, but Jason Weiss, his mission specialist and the light of his life, makes Johnâs situation more bearable.
The smallest malfunction to Station or crew would spell the end for six astronauts trapped high above a ruined Earth. Itâs their mission to carry on. Random chance of the universe hasnât operated in their favor so far, but John is determined to see them all safely home.
"Nobody's going to be angry if you literally can't get a hold of them," John tried to placate him. The wrinkled nose on his cool bronze face didn't reassure him that Yakecen would let it go, but he had to try. His prickly friend was going to blow a gasket one day and John hated the thought.
Yakecen confirmed his fear with a shake of his head, simple crow black braid swishing against the interior panels like an agitated cat's tail. "I don't want to get dressed down again. The last time, the asshole on the other end of the line said she'd put a reprimand in my file if I couldn't stay on schedule."
That was news to him. "Who told you this?"
"Some drone in Control. I don't remember," he told John, the discomfort in his whole body clear as day. Yakecen wasn't a people person on his good days and when someone had a problem with his work, it just made him dig his heels in.
John sighed and ran his index finger down the bridge of his nose. It didn't help the headache that brewed right behind his eyes. "I'll get it straightened out. People can't expect everything to go perfectly all the time and they shouldn't take it out on you."
"Thanks, John." Yakecen meant it, John saw it in the earnest way he thanked him. John was happy to be the buffer for his crew, especially for Yakecen, but fuck, he hoped someone would take up the duty once they back on the ground. John had plans and he couldn't do that job full time.
John nodded and started to back out of the capsule. "So, yeah, comms are down. Just sit tight, okay?"
"Sure thing." Yakecen ducked out of sight between the seats. "And tell whoever has the camera to knock off with the flash. It's so bright, going off in here, that it almost gave me a headache."
John paused. A camera flash wasn't anywhere near that strong and the interior wasn't that dark. And someone would've made a lot of racket getting past the garbage container over his head. "You see who it was?"
"No," was the muffled answer, but his crewmember popped up again and gave John a strange look. "I didn't see anyone when I checked. Although, how any of our guys avoided me seeing them, I'll never know. Saito even has a problem getting in here."
Saito was the smallest of them all, barely five feet in his socks.
"Huh." That was peculiar. "You know, Turlach was saying the same thing. Maybe Saito knows something about it. He's been in Destiny for a few hours now."
"It was annoying as fuck." Yakecen popped back out of his spot and pointed a finger at John. He hated that finger, because Yakecen always managed to have a disapproving look that matched John's mother's so perfectly, he thought they were clones for a second. "I don't have a problem with the candid shots, but not while I'm working in here. It's too dark for it."
"Understood," John promised.
Yakecen confirmed his fear with a shake of his head, simple crow black braid swishing against the interior panels like an agitated cat's tail. "I don't want to get dressed down again. The last time, the asshole on the other end of the line said she'd put a reprimand in my file if I couldn't stay on schedule."
That was news to him. "Who told you this?"
"Some drone in Control. I don't remember," he told John, the discomfort in his whole body clear as day. Yakecen wasn't a people person on his good days and when someone had a problem with his work, it just made him dig his heels in.
John sighed and ran his index finger down the bridge of his nose. It didn't help the headache that brewed right behind his eyes. "I'll get it straightened out. People can't expect everything to go perfectly all the time and they shouldn't take it out on you."
John nodded and started to back out of the capsule. "So, yeah, comms are down. Just sit tight, okay?"
"Sure thing." Yakecen ducked out of sight between the seats. "And tell whoever has the camera to knock off with the flash. It's so bright, going off in here, that it almost gave me a headache."
John paused. A camera flash wasn't anywhere near that strong and the interior wasn't that dark. And someone would've made a lot of racket getting past the garbage container over his head. "You see who it was?"
"No," was the muffled answer, but his crewmember popped up again and gave John a strange look. "I didn't see anyone when I checked. Although, how any of our guys avoided me seeing them, I'll never know. Saito even has a problem getting in here."
Saito was the smallest of them all, barely five feet in his socks.
"Huh." That was peculiar. "You know, Turlach was saying the same thing. Maybe Saito knows something about it. He's been in Destiny for a few hours now."
"It was annoying as fuck." Yakecen popped back out of his spot and pointed a finger at John. He hated that finger, because Yakecen always managed to have a disapproving look that matched John's mother's so perfectly, he thought they were clones for a second. "I don't have a problem with the candid shots, but not while I'm working in here. It's too dark for it."
"Understood," John promised.
I am a house-parent to a rambunctious small child and happily mated to an equally rambunctious military spouse. My adventures in writing began with fanfiction, and once I was hooked I never looked back.
While I've always tried to make my fanfiction unique, what I enjoy most about creating original work is the ability to delve into my stranger ideas without worrying about how I might apply them to someone else's world and characters. With my own creations, I take pride in twisting familiar tropes into something new and unexpected.
When I write, it is with the intention that my stories will leave a lasting impression. I hope you enjoy the characters and the worlds I create, and that they help you to find a place to exist, for a while, outside of your own.
GOOGLE PLAY / SMASHWORDS / B&N
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