Burning Bright (3 page)

“Not too hard?” Neal whispered.

“Perfect,” Sasha managed to gasp out.

Neal grinned and pumped his hand. Sasha shuddered and then the orgasm slammed his body into Neal’s, tightening every muscle along his front. His ribs creaked and he whimpered, caught between pleasure and pain.

“You okay?” Neal demanded in a sharp tone.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sasha assured him. “The ribs. They hurt. But fuck, man.”

Neal chuckled. “Been awhile?”

“About six months,” he admitted. He looked down at the creamy ribbons that stretched almost to his throat. “Shit.”

“You need another shower.”

“Yeah.”

He leaned on Neal as the big man led the way to the bathroom. As he eyed the table with its medical supplies, it seemed like it all was a dream. When they entered the bathroom and their eyes met in the mirror, Neal’s grin answered his own. No dream, but just as good as one.

Chapter Three

Weaknesses of the Flesh

“Stand still,” Neal ordered.

Sasha did as he was told, shivering with excitement and a chilly breeze from the door. Neal noticed and closed it. He flipped the switch for the fan and it started up with a soft hiss. Sasha stepped into the shower as the warm air bathed his body.

Neal started the water and stripped. Sasha tried not to stare, but failed. His gaze homed in on the thick, cut cock that curved up over a flat stomach. He moved on to the taut muscles that covered his body. His attention snagged on a military tattoo on Neal’s left biceps. It looked a little like the one Sasha’s ex-boyfriend, Brock Gary, had, but not… It had the same fierce-looking bald eagle. The impression of a flag flowed across the skin, but an anchor and a globe formed the bottom.

As the big man stepped in next to him, Sasha brought his fingers up to trace the design. “What is this?”

“The Corps.” Neal ran his fingers up the front of Sasha’s Yggdrasil design. “And this?”

“It’s the Viking World Tree, Yggdrasil. The Tree of Life with the roots representing the world below and the branches the world above.”

“It’s really well done.” Neal crouched next to Sasha in order to see it better, on the inside of Sasha’s inner hip, which brought his face next to Sasha’s cock.

Sasha froze. His heart thumped loud enough that it could jump out of his body. Neal’s index finger stroked the design of the tattoo, ignoring the bouncing flesh next to his hand. Instead, he stood and turned Sasha to trace the design of the knotwork on his back.

“And this?”

“It’s a Celtic knot,” Sasha whispered, unable to get his voice any louder than that. “It’s a symbol of new beginnings. I got it when I finished med school. The colors are for the gay flag. From when I came out.”

He did not share that his former boyfriend and Dom had done both for him.

Neal made a small sound of interest. He ran his hands down Sasha’s ass, trailing water. His fingers came up the inside of Sasha’s left leg and stroked his ball sac. Sasha’s pulse raced and he had trouble breathing. He caught himself against the wall of the shower.

“You okay?” Neal’s voice sounded concerned.

“Just dizzy.”

“Easy. You’ve been through a lot, maybe you should be resting…”

Anxious for that not to happen before they had sex, Sasha grabbed the nipple near his face with his teeth. He sucked hard on the skin and Neal groaned again, that low growl that sounded so fucking sexy. Even though he hadn’t gotten permission, Sasha wrapped both hands around the thick cock bobbing in front of his belly button. At a guess, Sasha put Neal’s height at around six-three.

Fortunately, Sasha liked his lovers big.

And that was something else Neal had. Girth. He filled Sasha’s hands like warm bread dough, firm and silky. Neal groaned and caught himself against the wall over Sasha’s head.

“Jesus, you’re good at that,” Neal panted.

Sasha chuckled. “All part of my evil plan.”

“What, to turn me into putty?”

“Paid my way through med school doing massage.”

He started to bend over to go down on Neal, but something in his chest popped and sent pain up all the way into his head. A loud gasp escaped him.

“Doc, what’s wrong?” Neal demanded. He knelt in front of him, holding him upright with his hands under Sasha’s arms. “Jesus, are you okay?”

He panted through the pain, trying to will it away. “Shit, something popped.”

“Come on.” He stood and let Sasha lean on his arm. “We shouldn’t be doing this with you in pieces, dammit. Steve. Steve-O!” He snatched towels from the rack and wrapped them toga-like around both of their hips.

They emerged from the bathroom and Neal guided him back to the couch. The door to the apartment opened and Steve popped in, followed by Carlos. Carlos closed the door and pulled a mobile from his pocket.

“What happened?” Steve demanded. He flipped the ivory blanket open along the wide seat in order for Sasha to lie on top of it without sticking to the leather.

“His ribs. I think one popped,” Neal reported in a grim tone. He pulled the towel free from around Sasha and dried him off, then laid it over the back of the couch.

Steve kneeled next to Sasha. “We need to tape him. You all right?”

Sasha nodded. “Yeah.”

“I need you to tell me where it hurts.”

Steve probed with gentle fingers up toward Sasha’s armpit. When he reached it, his fingers pressed down and something snapped. Sasha cried out, he couldn’t help it. Neal, a worried expression on his face, stroked Sasha’s hair back from his eyes.

“Cleo’s on his way,” Carlos reported, closing his phone. “Boss, he needs X-rays.”

“I can’t,” Sasha panted. “I have no insurance, I can’t afford the emergency room. Please, I’ll be fine.”

“If it is just ribs,” Steve murmured like he was thinking out loud, “they won’t be able to do anything anyway. They’ll tape him and tell him to take it easy, and I can do that here. It’s out of the way of any organs, so I’m not worried about him puncturing something.” He bent over Sasha’s body, his breath warm across his chest as he examined his side. “I’ll bet Cleo will say the same thing. It doesn’t feel broken, just bruised and maybe cracked a bit.”

“We need a fucking clinic,” Carlos grumbled.

“Doc needs fluids,” Neal snapped.

“On it,” Carlos said. He disappeared from view.

“You guys sound like soldiers or something,” Sasha managed to get out.

“We all are,” Neal told him. “Marine Force Recon.”

“He was our commander in Afghanistan,” Steve told him. “Him and Paul. He got us out of some hairy shit over there.”

“Took a team,” Neal murmured.

The door opened and a gorgeous black woman walked in. Her skin glowed in the light like chocolate, rich and brown. Her makeup had been done model-perfect, gold flecks on her eyes highlighting their enormous size. Her lips glowed with crimson lip polish, shiny and edible.

Self-conscious, Sasha grabbed for the afghan.

Neal straightened. “Hey, Cleo.”

“What’s up, Neal? You okay? I’ve got a client soon.”

“Can you take a look at the Doc for me? Steve thinks his ribs may be cracked or bruised here and here.” He pointed.

Cleo walked over in honest-to-Gods five-inch platform boots and perched on the table. “Hi, I’m Cleo. I’m an R.N. when I’m not working here and look like Cleopatra.”

It was a
man
. Shit. She…
He
was fucking gorgeous. “Hi,” Sasha said, at a loss for anything else to say.

The nurse examined him with gentle efficiency. He agreed with Steve’s assessment and helped apply the tape to his torso. Sasha leaned back and let them work. He tried not to critique their bandaging; after all, his area of expertise involved doing it on animals. They did a good job, as good as any hospital and free to boot. A blender motor started up in the kitchen and interfered with his hearing, but no one seemed to be talking to him anyway.

“Here,” Carlos said from over Sasha’s shoulder. “It’s a smoothie with some protein powder, easy to get down. It’ll keep him hydrated.”

“Thanks,” Neal said with a smile and helped steady Sasha while he drank it with a straw.

The fluid soothed his throat and revived him a bit, though the pain interfered with that. He finished the shake and lay back against the pillow. Neal wrapped him in the comfortable blanket again, leaving his arms free of the cocoon.

“I need to go home,” Sasha muttered. “I can’t just take over your couch.”

“You shouldn’t be alone with these,” Neal argued.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll call Marty and Vince. It’s just ribs, Neal. Really, I’m fine.” He tried to put as much assurance into his tone as he could manage.

“I can take him, Boss,” Carlos offered. “I don’t start until later on.”

Neal studied Sasha. “You sure you’re up to it?”

Sasha nodded, anxious to be independent again. Bad enough he crashed on the man’s couch all day. Not the best first impression he’d ever made. “Yeah. I’m just sore.”

“I have some Vicodin,” Steve said. “You’ll probably need it to sleep tonight.”

That
would
save him having to call Aunt Z for a scrip…even though it was illegal. “All right,” he agreed with reluctance. “I don’t want to make a habit of it, but just tonight. My aunt’s a doctor if I need more.”

“We know you’re not a drug addict, Doc,” Neal murmured.

Sasha tried not to glare when he met the other man’s gaze. “I’m a doctor. I can’t take drugs outside of a prescription.”

“Up to you.”

He tried to rise and couldn’t. Neal slipped a hand behind him without speaking, helping him to sit.

“I washed your stuff,” Carlos told him. “I brought a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, so you don’t have to wear your club stuff.”

What, were they
all
good Samaritans? “You guys are going to turn out to be a serial rapist cult or something, aren’t you?”

All of them laughed, even Cleo.

“There’s not enough of you to go around, Doc,” Neal pointed out. “You’re too skinny.”

“Slender. The word is slender. Or wiry,” he corrected with a grin.

Neal rose. Steve helped Sasha get dressed, the sweats and shirt soft with many washings. His heartbeat thudded in his ears by the time they finished. Dazed by the meds, he said good-bye to Neal and Steve.

“I’m parked down the alley,” Carlos told him as they stepped into the alley behind the Factory. “I’ll be right back.” He walked away without a backward glance.

Sasha stared at the dumpster. Blood dried in three small puddles in front of it and his heartbeat sped up. He eyed the alley, counting his breaths to stay calm, but it seemed shadowed and unfriendly. He tried to stop the sudden trembling that came out of his gut, but couldn’t. Sasha suppressed his disappointment that Neal didn’t come down to see him off.

“You okay?”

He jumped and whipped his head around. Steve stood just inside the door. He hadn’t even heard the big man open it. “You startled me.”

Steve stepped out of the doorway. “Sorry. I’ll wait with you.”

He resisted the urge to step closer to him. “Thanks.”

The man shrugged. “I figured you’d appreciate company.”

Sasha had the impulse to stare and fought it, instead looking down the alley toward where Carlos went. The man next to him smelled like Bay rum and spice, good enough to eat. He had a sudden memory of the big man’s hands on him when he’d helped him to stand.

What was wrong with him? He liked multiple partners, always had, but these men were Marines, dammit. Not exactly group sex material. He looked over to find Steve studying him.

His heart flipped over. “Hi.”
 

Hi?
Hi
?
Gods, Sasha.

Steve looped his fingers through his waistband and cocked one hip. “Just keep an eye on those ribs, okay? If the pain gets worse, or any discoloration happens, go to the emergency room. Worry about the money later, okay?”

“I know what to do, Steve. I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a vet, and stubborn,” Steve corrected.

Sasha narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve seen that look before. On soldiers. Stubborn and dog-stupid. Just take care of yourself. I don’t want something to happen to you after I got you all patched up.”

“Okay, I’ll be a good little boy.”

It had to be his imagination that Steve got a “look” in his eye when he said that. Instead, the big man nodded. “There’s Carlos now.”

“Thanks, Steve. For everything.”

“No problem.”

Carlos pulled up in a large Dodge pickup and unlocked the passenger door. Sasha climbed in, careful not to pull on his side. He set the small duffel Neal loaned him on the seat next to him, his mobile phone on top with his keys.

By the time Carlos dropped him off, he needed to lie down. “Thanks, Carlos. I appreciate the ride.”

“Don’t mention it. Here’s Neal’s card, he asked me to make sure you have it.”

He did, did he? Sasha took the black-and-white card with the Factory logo and Neal’s contact information. “Thanks.” Flipping it over, the handwritten cell phone number appeared. He grinned and stashed it under his phone.

“Get better. And be safe.”

“I will.” He watched Carlos climb back into the cab of the truck and disappear down the street.

He almost fell asleep before he got to his apartment. He managed to undress and take the meds, and stretched out on his sheets. His body ached in time to his heartbeat, but as the Vicodin kicked in, it subsided enough for him to drift off.

Chapter Four

Okay, Now What?

Sasha did nothing all day Sunday but rest and watch DVDs. He roused enough to make himself some fruit smoothies and eggs, but for once didn’t wash his dishes. He started to drag around eight o’clock and shut the lights and television off.

The steady tweet of his mobile phone woke him Monday morning. The sun beat against his blinds; thank the Gods he’d closed them before falling asleep.

“Doctor Soskoff,” he managed to mumble into the telephone, in case it was someone about a job.

“Sasha? Jesus man, are you okay?” Marty Keaton demanded.

“Marty? What time is it?”