Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

they want. The only thing is, I want it to be extra special. You get yourself naked, and I’ll figure out how to make it an extra good treat for you.”
    As Denver disappeared into his bedroom, Adam tried to scurry to his feet to undress, but it was hard, in part because his whole body was jelly, and also because his ass hurt every time he fucking moved. It hurt like fire on his skin.
    Every flame, every burn whispered, You’re a good boyfriend, Adam .
    He did have a low-grade panic over being in the wrong house, but it was faint, and his OCD was so far gone for Denver that it didn’t matter. He wasn’t in the wrong house, because this was Denver’s house.
    Adam knew very well that after tonight, he belonged, completely and utterly, to Denver Rogers.
    He’d just set his glasses back on the shelf and made it out of his last bit of clothing when Denver returned, an almost feral grin on his face.
    And a pair of leather cuffs and a length of rope in his hand.

    In the dim lights of his playroom, Denver palmed himself and stared down at the beauty that was Adam, bound and strapped into a frame in front of him. His lover’s eyes were soft and fixed on him, specifically on his cock. Adam’s mouth gaped open hungrily.
    Denver allowed himself a single moment to wonder how in the hell he’d gotten here.
    That thought rippled again as he sheathed himself in a condom, and he caught the regret in Adam’s eye. He caught himself thinking maybe they could go get tested together, start the process of getting them to a place where he really could shoot cum down Adam’s throat. It wasn’t the cum-shooting that tripped him up but the idea that he, Denver Rodgers, perpetual fuckup, had gotten to the place where he was thinking about getting tested so he could be loyal to a lover. He liked it. A lot.
    It was still just really, really weird.
    He was used to having a twinkie-little partner mew and moan as he tied him, but he’d never taken such tender care with one while he did so, never stopped so many times to tell his lover he was a good boy, never meant it in the same way. He’d never had to be so careful, either, to make sure Adam’s assurances that everything was fine were the truth. Funny how OCD could cripple Adam so badly but let him get handcuffed and trussed up like a turkey. This was some fine rope work too, binding Adam’s arms tight to his back but keeping his hands up and off his burning—beautiful—ass. Denver had dug up some pads that worked for knee rests, something he usually didn’t fuss over unless the twink asked for it, but this was Adam. Adam made him want to pamper and fuss and do all kinds of things he’d never done. Adam made him want to make everything special.
    Adam wanted to be fucked in the throat because it was a treat. Holy fucking shit, Denver was in love.
    He probably really was, he acknowledged, as he lined himself up at Adam’s lips, holding his lover’s gaze as he thrust inside. As the lust took over, he let the scary thought—that he was in love with Adam—ride the wave. He thrust deep into Adam’s mouth, not taking his air yet, not ready to. He wanted to make this last. He stroked Adam’s face, loving those big, brown eyes as they stared up with such naked obedience and yearning.
    “You’re a good boy,” he whispered, and Adam cried out around his cock. Denver tapped his cheek in warning. “You ready?” Adam gave a muffled cry that sounded, mostly, like God yes . Denver nodded.
    Then he went deep.
    It was better than the first time. Not because Adam was tied up, though that was nice. Not because Adam stared up at him with liquid Bambi eyes—through glasses, because Denver had made him put them back on—though that was hot. It was because it was Adam, all of him, who opened up and took him in, who let him fuck out his air and trusted him to make it okay. Adam with OCD. Adam with all his fusses and fears. Adam who wasn’t just a curiosity, but Adam, the only person Denver wanted to see when he woke up and before he went to bed.
    Denver groaned and shut his eyes, tossing his head back as he fucked. He felt lost, cut off from everything but Adam. When he came, the fact that he had to do it inside the condom only made him more determined to make it go away, because he wanted to leave part of him inside of Adam, to mark him, and he couldn’t, not yet.
    He nuzzled him instead, then pulled back when he realized Adam was beaming. “What’s going on, baby?”
    “I came.”