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  He turned and stopped, leaning against the door, and stared.

  On his left, rich chocolate-brown slate stone lined a walk-in shower with double showerheads. In front of him stood the vanity with two large sinks, and in the corner a wide and deep tub stood with a shelf for candles above it. The commode stood to the right in its own alcove.

  He started forward and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He froze and opened his robe. Livid crimson bruises marched down his face and neck, with darker, purple bruises over the broken ribs. A long bandage wrapped his right arm, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to himself to warrant it. His stomach looked like a pizza, with purples and browns radiating out to yellow-ish green. It looked oddly pretty against the golds and greens of his Yggdrasil tattoo.

  The mirror revealed the blood pooled in his left eye and a magnificent shiner that covered half his face. His cheek had split in two places and a large white bandage covered part of Sasha’s jaw and under to the chin and throat. He let his fingers trace his ribs but stopped when a sharp pain raced through him, warning him that exploring further was a bad idea. Anger filled him without warning, and he turned to stalk to the toilet to take a piss.

  He had an interview on Tuesday, for the sake of the Gods. What was he supposed to do, show up looking like an extra from Fight Club? Nobody would hire an applicant who looked like the loser of a bar brawl. “Idiot,” he whispered at himself, furious and at the same time despairing.

  A knock on the door made him jump. “In a minute.”

  “You can take a shower, Doc, if you want, Neal says. There’s towels and stuff in there.” It sounded like Carlos’s voice.

  “Thanks.” He eyed the shower with interest as he hung the robe on a hook on the back of the door.

  He finished with the toilet and padded over to the bathing area. The water started up with a loud hiss and he grinned. Water pressure seemed strong enough to feel good on sore muscles or other parts of his body. He unwound the bandage from his arm and studied the jagged scrape along his skin. It looked like it could be from glass or something, but he didn’t need stitches. It stung like mad when he stepped into the water but he washed every inch of himself he could reach without causing himself to black out from the pain of his ribs.

  By the time Sasha emerged, Carlos and Paul disappeared. Steve leaned by the door, talking to Neal with the air of someone killing time. His eyes met Sasha’s and they stared at each other a moment. The bigger man’s gaze swept over him and Sasha was very aware of how the robe gaped in the front, but he wasn’t about to clutch it closed. Let the other man look if he wanted too. It was probably just at the bruises.

  Sasha moved farther into the room, toward the table.

  Steve said nothing, just pushed off from the wall. “I’ll be back,” he told Neal.

  “You sure you don’t want a bite of this?” Neal asked over his shoulder, shaking the skillet and drizzling wine over its contents.

  Sasha walked over to the table and Steve said something about taking care of personal business. Neal laughed. Sasha turned as the big man slipped into the hall and close the door, silent as a ghost.

  “Have a seat,” Neal invited.

  “Thank you,” Sasha told him, nervous like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush. He couldn’t seem to keep still, fidgeting in his seat.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Iced tea. Iced tea is fine.” He cleared his throat.

  Neal served the meal on heavy grey ceramic plates. He set one in front of Sasha and got the iced tea.

  Sasha eyed the chicken and sighed. On the other hand, the plate overflowed with colorful vegetables—onion, baby corn, snap peas—all in a ginger wine sauce that smelled divine. He edged the chicken to one side and ate everything else.

  “What do you do when you’re not picking fights in the alley, Doc?”

  Sasha took a sip of the tea. His eyes widened. It tasted incredible, something with mango and sweetener. “I’m a veterinary trauma surgeon.”

  “No shit.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I specialize in large animals and exotics.”

  “Here in Chicago?”

  “No, actually. Not yet, anyway. I’m here about a job at Northwestern.”

  Neal’s eyes widened. “Impressive.”

  He preened, he couldn’t help it. “Thank you.”

  The big man looked at his plate. “The sauce too spicy?”

  He hesitated. He really didn’t want to be ungrateful, but… “I don’t eat meat.”

  “Oh. Jeez, I’m sorry.”

  “How would you know? It’s okay. This is incredible.”

  Neal smiled, his cinnamon-brown eyes crinkling. “Thank you.”

  “You like to cook?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I did after I got out of the service. I used my GI Bill and went to cooking school. This place pays well, but I love to cook.”

  Sasha smiled. “Well, you do it really well.”

  Neal leaned forward and Sasha froze. “Flattery will get you everything.” He stood and went to the fridge.

  Holy crap, the man was hot. He took a slurp of iced tea and watched Neal move. He walked with contained power and silence. Sasha tried to concentrate, but he had nothing else on his plate to eat. He rose and went over to the sink and then stared at the faucet, unsure where to put his hands.

  Neal walked over. It was only in Sasha’s imagination that he put his hands on Sasha’s ass and started to fuck him against the counter.

  He turned, discovering Neal right behind him. Concern shown in the other man’s eyes, mixed with interest. A calloused finger traced along one of the cuts on his cheek.

  Sasha pulled his head away.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” Sasha rushed to reassure him. “But I look like a circus freak.”

  “Fishing for compliments?”

  He glared before looking away. He’d forgotten how he looked while they ate, absorbed in the conversation. It came back to him now. A warm palm cupping the good side of his jaw lifted his head back up. An intense gaze met his.

  “You want some sorbet? You still hungry?” Neal asked, his breath close enough to stir the hair on Sasha’s neck.

  Sasha turned. “Not for dessert.” It just popped out. His face heated and he tried to look away, but Neal’s rich, dark cinnamon eyes held his and the firm pressure of the larger man’s hand stopped the motion before it began.

  “You’re still injured,” he murmured, moving Sasha’s face up and to the side in order to see the bruising better.

  Sasha panted and his damned cock woke. It didn’t seem to notice his soreness; instead it started an ache of its own. This close to the other man, there was no way he could hide it.

  Neal bent closer and Sasha couldn’t look away from his mouth. He wanted those lips on him like he’d wanted nothing else in a long, long time. Neal caught his wrists in his hands, the heat from the calloused palms like a balm. Neal lifted Sasha’s wrists and pinned them against the cabinets behind him, then licked along the unbruised side of his throat. Sasha moaned, a higher-pitched sound than he was used to hearing from himself, but he couldn’t stop it. His cock, erect now, bumped Neal’s hip through the silk robe.

  The big man chuckled. “So eager.”

  “I…” Sasha trailed off when Neal’s gaze caught his again. Never could he imagine while watching Neal last night on stage that this would happen.

  Neal cocked his head. “How sore are you?”

  It took a try or two before he managed to make a sound. “The ribs hurt bad, but the rest is all right. My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  Neal smirked again, the arrogance only a true top could muster. All of a sudden, Sasha wanted to be dominated by this man, completely and totally.

  Neal let go of Sasha’s right wrist and ran his thumb along Sasha’s lower lip. Sasha pulled the digit into his mouth and sucked, hard, on the thick skin and knuckles. Neal made a low, growling noise of
approval and Sasha closed his eyes to concentrate, imagining another part of Neal’s anatomy in his mouth. Neal’s other hand let go of him and slipped inside the robe. The calloused palm wrapped around his cock. Sasha left his hands where the other man placed them.

  “So ready,” Neal murmured.

  “Please,” Sasha whispered, undone.

  Neal’s fingers traced lower and then stroked his shaved ball sac. “So smooth,” he noted with a purr in his voice. “Are you a good little bottom?”

  Since Sasha couldn’t talk he nodded, lost in the sensations and the desire for Neal to grip his shaft again.

  Instead, Neal’s hand cupped his cheek and held his head stationary. “Look at me.”

  He did as he was told, panting with desire.

  “What’s your safe word?”

  Oh Gods. His heart started to pound, and his cock bobbed above the hand massaging his balls. Did he really mean it? “It’s Lemon,” he managed to pant.

  “You attached? Got anyone calling you theirs?”

  Sasha shook his head. “No. No, I’m single.” Please. Please fuck me…

  Neal stepped back, letting go of him. “You’re injured. On drugs too. We should probably wait.” He turned away.

  “Please.” Sasha wanted to sob with need. “Please, Neal.”

  “It’s Boss. Not Neal.”

  He wanted to shout with joy. “Boss.”

  “No fucking for now, you’ll have to wait for that.”

  Sasha nodded. He didn’t care as long as the other man didn’t leave him like this.

  Neal swung back and his mouth landed on Sasha’s, somehow managing to not hurt him as he did it. Sasha tasted chicken and wine sauce, the onions and garlic adding the right amount of savory to it. Neal’s big hand closed around Sasha’s cock again and moved like a piston, squeezing him with authority. He couldn’t breathe and Neal let him up for air, but didn’t slow his hand. Sasha let Neal move him against his body, his head against Neal’s chest so he didn’t fall or whack his head. He licked the nipple, intending to suckle, but Neal’s hand tightened and he shouted.

  “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.