Looking for Trouble(49)

He also thought about Dylan’s designs and his fear of putting himself out there. He had no doubt Dylan could accomplish his dreams if he was willing to try.

“But none of this is going to come without some heartache. Life is never that simple. There are obstacles you still need to get around. You still need to learn that you’re capable of standing on your own two feet. If you can do those things…well, if you do them, then you just might get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Dylan nodded, didn’t look at Clay as he thanked the man, pulled out a twenty, and gave it to him.

“Hey,” he called out as they were walking away. Clay stiffened, somehow knowing the guy was talking to him.

Both he and Dylan turned around, and sure enough, his eyes were firmly locked on Clay.

“It’s okay to be happy…to enjoy life…to let go. You deserve it. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, ya know? But you have to let go of the past to move on.”

Clay nodded, his throat full, words unable to slip free. Happy…enjoy life…let go…

He wanted that. Christ, he wanted it so badly, it was a constant ache inside him, but he didn’t know if he could do it.

He wanted to, though. Because of the man standing beside him, he wanted to.

Clay nodded at the gentleman again, then looked at Dylan. “Come on, Trouble. Let’s go dance.”

“Really?” Dylan’s crystal blue eyes sparkled, and Clay felt it in his chest.

“Yeah, really.”

Clay couldn’t remember the last time he’d danced. He had no idea what he was doing. His body was likely jerking around in a way that wasn’t on beat, but he didn’t care. He just…danced. Dylan swayed, moved perfectly to each beat of the drum. He would laugh, smile, sweat glistening on his forehead as they spent hours chasing a beat together.

Every time Dylan smiled at him or laughed at him, Clay wanted to continue what he was doing to earn more of it.

It was the most fun he’d had in…well, shit, he couldn’t remember how long, maybe ever.

Somehow through it all, since the moment they spoke in the driveway when they arrived at the cabin, he forgot to be sad, forgot to feel lonely, and he just…lived.

Eventually they got back into the truck, Dylan bouncing around in his seat, still hyped up, like he had energy to spare.

“That was incredible. Thank you so much.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. I should probably be thanking you. I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been here…none of it. Sorry if I cramped your style with my shitty moves.”

Dylan snickered. “You didn’t cramp anything. You were hot out there.”

He had his doubts about that.

“You act like you’re ancient, Clay. You’re not.”

He felt it sometimes, though.

They got back to the cabin and showered together. When Clay went to kiss him, Dylan stopped it. “I have a little surprise for you…and some things I should probably do. Give me a few?”

Clay nodded. “Yeah, I’ll pull on some sweats and take Dakota out. Daddy Clay loves our girl too.”

“Our girl…I like that.”

“I like it too.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN




Dylan


Dylan looked at himself in the mirror. Once Clay was outside with Dakota, he’d gotten from his bag a new pair of underwear he’d designed. He’d taken care of personal business to make sure he was ready for Clay because he planned—hoped—Clay would spend a lot of time back there tonight. Then he slipped on his jockstrap.

The pouch was sky blue, like his eyes, and cupped his sac and cock just right. The straps were white, the one beneath each ass cheek with matching blue stitching, and the one over his ass with Clay’s embroidered across it.

Now that he had them on, he wondered if it was too much. He looked hot as fuck in it, of course, because if there was one thing he felt fairly confident about, it was his looks and his ass, but what if he came across as needy? Like he was putting the pressure on Clay. Jesus, what had he been thinking, stamping himself as Clay’s when he didn’t know how much Clay truly wanted him?

He began to pace the bathroom, unsure what to do. There was that soft voice in his head telling him it wasn’t a big deal, that he was freaking out over something that was supposed to be sexy, but that voice wasn’t louder than the one that figured Clay couldn’t really want Dylan to be his. And this was the anniversary of the death of his partner, and here Dylan was, trying to seduce him and declaring himself Clay’s?

God, he was so stupid sometimes.

He hooked his fingers in the top of the jock. Just as he was about to pull it down, there was a knock on the bathroom door. “You okay in there, Trouble? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I’m…” His voice cracked. He was freaking out. That’s what he was doing.

Before he continued, the door began to open slowly. “Say something if you don’t want me to come in,” Clay told him. Dylan stayed quiet, despite the way his chest rose and fell and his heartbeat rivaled the drum circle from earlier.

The door opened, and Clay’s eyes raked up and down Dylan’s body, making him flush and tremble.

Clay moaned. “Christ, you’re beautiful. You made those, didn’t you?”