Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

and disappear," Sinn said. "Bobby knew where I was going."
    Will released the end of the thong. "You didn't find what you were looking for in L.A. though, did you?"
    "I guess it was enough to know what I didn't want. I lost the music out there."
    "Have you found it?"
    Sinn was silent. All those concerts that Will had attended, watching and studying Medusa's Thorn, and he knew what Sinn wouldn't admit. Something was missing. And that something was holding Sinn back from realizing his full potential. The caution and control he'd learned after LA still had a tight grip on him. And Will knew it stemmed, at least in some part, from fear of ending up right back where he'd been as the party favor of that LA producer.
    He'd started to reclaim some of his verve from younger days. But something was stopping him from truly immersing himself in his music. Will had watched him and Bobby in Reverie; and yearned to be like them. He'd even left Reverie to pursue his own dreams, landing in Seattle. He'd tried to forget about a dreamer by the name of David Garner until he'd stumbled across a photo on Facebook, featuring a band by the name of Medusa's Thorn. That's what started him on a road to finding a singer going by the name of Sinn Midnite.
    The search had started in Seattle, backtracked to California. He'd found an old address for Davy through some of Bobby's old letters stuffed into a box of things his mother had sent him. He'd dug around, learned his history. And now, here they were.
    One thing Will knew was that Sinn was ready. Will had been at more than one club over the last year or so and Sinn had never noticed him before. But tonight, Sinn had been searching for something. Will sensed he was finally ready to break free. He looked at Sinn's back, at the faint thin scars that tracked across his skin. The use, the abuse had fundamentally changed him. But Sinn was strong or he'd have ended up on the street corners of the Strip, all used up and hooked on crack. But that's not what had happened. Beneath the wild blond hair, beneath the boldness, beneath the seemingly random actions, was a core of steely determination. He might stumble, but he would recover.
    "So you'll remember the word. Boomer."
    "Yeah. Like a boomerang, he'd always come back." His hands tightened on the grip. "I won't go back," he whispered. "I'm never going back there. Let's do this."
    Will couldn't be certain which "going back there" he alluded to. Did he mean L.A. or Montana? Or just that dark place that he managed to climb out of? "Boomer," Will confirmed. But somehow Will had a feeling that Sinn wouldn't use the safe word. If nothing else, Sinn was not about being safe. He never had been. He'd find a way to protect himself, but beyond that, he was all for racing head long into danger.
    Will would start slow. "Hang on," Will said, then circled around behind Sinn.
    Sinn had a very nice ass. Slender hips, a sweet ass. Pale white at the moment, but soon that would change. Will lifted the crop, he gripped the dildoed handle, then he brought the crop down across that lovely white flesh with a firm, controlled swing. Sinn jumped, he sucked in a breath, but other than that he didn't utter a sound. A pale red line marred the lovely white flesh. Will brought the crop down across that tender white ass again. And then again. Sinn's ass was now blushed red, a glow that seemed to fan out across the surface of each cheek, darkening the crease between. Not quite enough, he decided and he moved around to come from the other side.
    He didn't speak as he administered the whipping. He waited, he listened for any sign of distress, but his whole focus was on Sinn's beautiful ass, now flaming the color of an even shade of burn. Finally, he set the crop aside and moved in behind Sinn. He'd remembered to turn the air conditioning on high. The air was chill, but Sinn's body was hot, and ripe, and ready. Even through the thin veneer of the black leather gloves Will could feel the heat emanating from Sinn's tempered flesh. He flattened a hand across one cheek. Sinn sucked in air, released it on a groan.
    "Are you done," he finally asked, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.
    Will smoothed both hands over his ass, watching the ebb and flow of color undulate across Sinn's skin. He cupped each cheek and spread the two halves open. He studied Sinn's little brown puckered hole, so dark against the reddened pale flesh of his ass. He kneaded Sinn's ass, stretched him wider.
    "Hardly