Tymber Dalton - Safe Harbor

Mac would kneel there all night like that if Sully let him.

No, Clarisse wasn’t even close to understanding why he could give himself to Sully. He strongly suspected her submissive needs came nowhere close to his. He also knew she wasn’t a switch. She would want soft and snuggly, easy sensual play that slipped into cuddling when all was said and done.

Could she ever truly live the way they lived? Were they even capable of giving her what she wanted and needed?

Sully finally patted the top of Mac’s head. “Very good. Good boy.

Release me.”

Reluctantly, Mac did, giving his cock one last kiss before sitting back on his heels and looking at Sully.

“How will you explain the marks?”

“The truth, Master. I already mentioned to her that I’d earned myself ten.”

“But not why?”

He shook his head.

Sully’s eyes dropped to Mac’s lap, where his stiff cock bobbed in the air. Sully smiled. “Go get your wrist cuffs.”

A surge of excitement raced through Mac as he jumped to do it.

Sully finished undressing, put the cane away, and turned off the lights. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, enough to see by. It only took Mac a moment to securely cinch the cuffs around his wrists and stand at the end of their bed.

“Lie down. On your back.” Sully held something behind him.

Mac had been too distracted by the unexpected command to fetch his cuffs to notice what Sully had picked up. Once Mac was secured on the bed, Sully showed him the vibrator. Not the largest, but enough.

His cock throbbed.

Sully laughed as he knelt between Mac’s legs. “You know what I’ve got in store, don’t you?”

“I hope so, Master.”

Sully grinned. “You know damn well honesty is always rewarded.

You’ve been a very good boy. You could have easily not told me what happened. I never would have known. But you did, knowing I would punish you.” He thumbed the control and the vibrator clicked to life. Mac’s breath caught as the hum filled the room. “I never want you to have a reason to not tell me the absolute truth.”

Sully cupped the top of Mac’s rigid cock in his left hand as he used his right to apply the vibrator to the sensitive spot on the underside of the head. Mac’s hips involuntarily jerked, but he didn’t take his eyes off Sully.

“You may come,” Sully softly said.

Mac closed his eyes and threw his head back as the sensation overwhelmed him. Sully knew damn well Mac never could hold back very long like this, and as Sully worked the vibrator along the underside of Mac’s cock, his release rapidly built.

“Tell me when you’re coming,” Sully ordered.

Mac’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, his world ending at the feel of his cock lying in Sully’s warm hand and of what the vibrator did to him. In another minute, he was there. “I’m coming, Master!” he gasped as the explosion ripped through him. Sully pressed the vibrator tightly against the underside of the head, drawing another cry from Mac as his climax seemed to increase, double in size. After what felt like forever, the pressure relented until Sully finally withdrew the vibrator and shut it off.

Drained, spent, Mac lay gasping on the bed. Then the feel of Sully’s palm against his lips. He opened his mouth and licked his lover’s hand clean without opening his eyes. As Sully pressed his fingers between Mac’s lips, Mac lovingly sucked them, working his tongue over Sully’s hand as if it were his cock.

After a moment, the hand disappeared, but he felt Sully unsnap his cuffs from the bed. Then Sully’s arms encircled him and pulled him close. Mac cuddled tightly against his side, the cuffs still around his wrists.

“I love you, Brant,” Sully whispered.

Mac squeezed him in a tight hug. “I love you too, Sul. Jesus, you have no idea how much I love you.”

A soft breath escaped Sully. Mac interpreted it as relief. He knew Sully still struggled with his own fears sometimes. He also knew he’d do whatever he had to, for the rest of their lives, to keep proving to Sully he would never betray his trust.

Sully kissed the top of his head. “Let’s sleep in a little tomorrow, okay?”

Mac smiled. “Okay.”

Late the next afternoon, Sully went to take a nap. His leg still bothered him off and on and he needed to rest. Mac uncapped a beer and walked into the living room. Clarisse sat, reading, in one of the chairs. Mac settled at his usual place on the sofa, seated on his towel.

On the coffee table, he placed a red folder.

He nodded to it. “Go ahead. I’ve already talked with Sully. You need to see that. It might help you understand.”

When Clarisse realized the folder was full of personal paperwork—wills, powers of attorney, other such items—she immediately closed it. “I can’t look through this. This is your private stuff.”

“Read it,” he softly said. “Please.”

She didn’t want to. It felt like she was intruding on the most private and intimate part of their lives.

Then she chided herself. How could it be more private than what she witnessed on a daily basis or at the party?

Mac watched as she opened the folder.

Sully’s will sat on top. She glanced through it and faltered as she realized everything he had—quite a considerable amount—totally went to Mac in the event of Sully’s death, with a provision to care for Tad, if he was still alive. The power of attorney paperwork covered medical as well as financial decisions and again gave Mac total control of everything.

The folder contained similar paperwork for Mac, ceding power to Sully. A huge life insurance policy on Sully naming Mac as the sole beneficiary. The cars and properties had been set up in a trust with the two men as the sole beneficiaries. Deeds for the house and several rental and commercial properties listed Mac as co-owner through the trust. And a sort of pre-nup, a private contract between them, notarized, specifying how they would divide their assets if they ever split, regardless of who wanted the “divorce.”

With Mac getting quite a considerable amount. Then she noticed a number that concerned her. “Why would you only get twenty-five percent of your bank account?”

“Because I only contribute approximately twenty percent. He was generous. I was willing to settle for a flat sum, or even something like ten percent. He wanted to make sure we split it fairly. Between his pension, benefits, writing, and speaking engagements, he makes a helluva lot more than I do in a good year, sugar.”

“What’s all this stuff mean?” She closed the folder and set it on the table.

“I wanted you to see that this isn’t all it appears to be on the surface. He went through a lot of trouble to make sure I was protected. That’s why he got the life insurance. Again, Sully did that, not me. He wanted to make sure that if something ever happened to him, I was protected and no distant relatives could swoop in to try to take over. That’s the only reason I’m on the properties and the trust. I didn’t want to be. I wanted him to totally own everything, but the lawyer said with properties that it would be better if we were both on them because it would save the other on IRS crap in case one of us died, and it would help prevent any other issues.”

“Relatives like who?”

“Sully’s ex-wife, for one. She’s friends with a cousin of his. I wouldn’t put it past them to try something. Fucking bitch.” His expression darkened as he took another pull on his beer. “My brother’s cool with it. He wouldn’t try something.”

“Ex-wife?” She didn’t realize Sully had been married.

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his legs. “She presented him with divorce papers while he lay in the hospital after the shooting.

Could barely open his eyes, and she forced him to sign everything.

Fortunately, I helped him get that overturned because he wasn’t coherent.”

Rage built inside her. Despite her stubborn, lingering reservations about Sully, the fact that someone would take advantage of him like that boiled her bacon.

Mac hadn’t finished. “He told me I could tell you about how we got together,” he softly said. “I think you should hear it.”

Clarisse nodded.

“It started almost nine years ago.”

Mac sat at the lunch counter with the paper opened to the want ads. His mood darkened with each failure. He didn’t want to reenlist, even if the Army would take him back. He’d end up in the brig after punching some CO out, without a doubt. Since Betsy’s death, he struggled every day just to get out of bed, and then it was a fight not to kill someone until he went to bed every night. He couldn’t get rid of the anger.

The guilt.

The waitress, Lisa, walked over and refilled his coffee. “Real fucking shame, isn’t it?”

If she wanted to bust his balls, today was not the day to do it.

“What is?” he growled.

She gave him a strange look. “Didn’t you hear?”

He slammed his pen onto the counter. “Hear what?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God! You haven’t.” She set the coffee pot down, her mood totally changed. “Sweetie, there was a shoot-out last night. A drug bust at some bar went bad.”

A chill washed down Mac’s spine. He didn’t want to hear, but he asked anyway. “What happened?”

“That detective friend of yours. The one who worked your sister’s case. He’s in Harborside’s ICU. They don’t know if he’ll make it.”

Mac didn’t remember the drive to St. Pete. He knew the way to the ICU and fortunately recognized two of the officers standing vigil outside the unit. They found their supervisor, who spoke to the nursing staff and got Mac in. HIPAA be damned, Sully was a cop, one of their brothers, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer.