Love & Stitches at The Asylum: Part Forty-Six
Happy Sunday and happy reading!
*****
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
PART 5
PART 6
PART 7
PART 8
PART 9
PART 10
PART 11
PART 12
PART 13
PART 14
PART 15
PART 16
PART 17
PART 18
PART 19
PART 20
PART 21
PART 22
PART 23
*****
Black is an appropriate color for a funeral, right?
Accidentally using the dick of one’s Dom and husband as a fall-break was not, strictly, a marriage ending move. Except, with how Jared kept him away from Noah, Jamie couldn’t help wondering if maybe he’d permanently maimed him. Whether they might never have sex again. Which would suck all around, but suck worse for Noah. Dick was power at The Asylum, and power was protection. Noah needed to be able to protect the people he loved, and he wouldn’t be able to if members were busy throwing him over the edge of his personal cliff by whispering and pointing about the Core member with the broken cock. He’d be a laughingstock.
A laughingcock...
“Ugh.” Eyes squeezing shut, he tossed them on the bed to pull Noah’s sleep shirt over his head. “Just get it together, Kent, and go back out there.”
Yes, that was better. Having his asshole ex-manager’s voice in his head was better than his own. Still not a good sign, but better. Settling even. Even if his ability to behave like a normal person and not hurt the people he cared about most was in question, his ability to perform was not.
That I can do. In spades.
Cool satin brushing skin that was still heated from repeated blushes of mortification and worried nerves—is it possible to die from a dick injury?—Jamie flew to the en suite to polish up. When Noah came out, he’d see there was nothing to worry about. He’d have a perfectly-dressed, perfectly-behaved, non-disaster of a husband entertaining his guests.
Nodding to himself in the mirror, he tried on his ‘social’ smile, leaning in to smooth the makeup sponge over his skin. Several other expressions were discarded as too artificial as he applied the lip liner then a pale shade of pink gloss that would emphasize how very all right he was when his lips curved…
Yes, just like that.
A deep breath, shoulders back, arms shook out. He was ready to go on. To keep Noah’s image together, even if he might not be able to in the future.
Please don’t let it be broken...
In the living area, guests had begun to arrive. Jamie skated out, light as air. The part of him who wanted to go to Noah—desperately needing to see his husband to make sure he was okay—was firmly shelved for the evening. Noah needed him to be normal. To put on a show for them both.
I can do that.
“How about I freshen that drink for you, sir?” A gracious smile directed at Lawson, Jamie reached for the man’s glass.
Focus split between Reed and Matt, both kneeling at his feet, Lawson gave Jamie a warm smile and held out his glass. “Yes, that would be very nice. Thank you, pet.”
Light laughter escaped Jamie’s lips. Definitely not nervous sounding. Yes, he’d gotten that on cue. “I’ll be only a moment. And may I say, sir, your boys look really boss by your feet.” Keep the conversation natural. What the fuck could he say now? His eyes widened as he took in Lawson’s footwear. “Oh, nice choice, sir. Loafers, sockless. That’s a new look for you. I approve.”
Lawson arched a brow at Jamie—does he disagree about the kicks?—then turned his attention back to Curtis. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for more details on your idea for transforming the gym space. Are you suggesting partitioning off the whole area or leaving it open? I’ll need all the costs for material and man hours in detail, but for now, give me a general idea.”
Pouring Lawson’s drink at the new loft’s wet bar, Jamie listened, curious.
Curtis’ voice was the light, impertinent—word of the day for the win!—one he used to get under Lawson’s skin as he replied. “What? You know I love to surprise you.” Lawson must’ve given Curtis a look, because he laughed. “Joking. Yeah. I was thinking since the ceiling’s so high we can use an industrial look and make two levels. The upper for a lounge, aftercare space, and some private play areas as well, then the downstairs for the regular scenes we support now. While the upstairs dungeon can be for the hardcore players.” Curtis glanced at Jamie when he brought Lawson the refreshed bourbon. “I want to do a lucite safety corridor to the dance club door, so no one will be heard or hurt who’s crossing through the space, but it also won’t interrupt the atmosphere.”
“That’ll be really cool.” Reed rested his chin on Matt’s shoulder, his knees partially bent under him. “It’ll make it easier for the people running food orders not to have to deal with a crowd. We might need a hall monitor to keep members from hanging out and getting their freak on right there, though.”
Jamie set the drink on the coaster at Lawson’s side. His mind whirred, ticking past entertaining and acceptable conversation topics. Was this a ‘join in’ situation, a ‘nod and smile politely’ situation, or a ‘promote your newest album’ situation? He vaguely recalled his manager saying something about the weather or benign gossip rag pieces being acceptable as well in the right crowd. But this wasn’t that crowd. This was the Core.
Fingers curling into his palms, he took a deep breath, feeling very out of practice.
Keep it going...
He glanced toward the kitchen, licking his lips, trying to think of what would’ve passed for trendy and powerful amongst his L.A. friends back in the day. What would’ve distracted them from Danny hiding under the table as they glided by the VIP booth? Or held the photographers’ focus so they didn’t notice him huddled into his hoodie?
Think, Kent, THINK.
His knee began to bounce, foot tapping.
“We once got the bouncer at Flaming Whiskey drunk. He let in everyone past the velvet ropes.” Jamie laughed lightly, with just the right amount of ‘can you believe what we did when we were dumb kids’ in his expression. “Probably a mistake, but it made for some...interesting shots for the papz.”
Peering up at him, Reed made a face. “I guess you kinda had to find some way to get through all that ish. Dealing with the papz all the time…” He shuddered. “No thanks, I’d rather give up… Okay, not candy. Maybe bubble baths, but it would be painful. Worth it not to ever deal with those bloodthirsty bastards again, but painful.”
“It’s all normal after a while.” Jamie’s gaze skated past Noah’s chair, his heart beating a little faster at the combination of memories from the last hour with the ones from his past colliding. He motioned toward the wet bar. “Cotton candy vodka, Reed?”
Curtis sat up a little, frowning. “No. Just a soft drink. What would you like, my boy?”
“Hmm…” Reed held Curtis’ gaze as he nibbled on the side of Matt’s neck. “Maybe some root beer with whipped cream and the colored sprinkles?”
“Uhm...” That would be impossible without going into the kitchen, and Jared had that look on his face whenever Jamie even glanced that way. “How about the root beer and I’ll owe you a float a little later?”
Reed reluctantly tore his gaze from Curtis’ and flashed Jamie a bright smile. “Sure, that’d be cool, man. Thanks.” He paused a second, then waved at Jamie quickly, though he hadn’t moved a muscle. “No ice though. Watered down anything is just plain nasty.” He nipped Matt’s neck. “You want anything, hot stuff?”
Before Matt could respond, Curtis snapped his fingers. “Mark him and you’ll spend the movie facing the corner.” There wasn’t a lot of bite to the Dom’s words, but it was clear he was reining Reed back in before he could get himself into more trouble. “Matt, move away from Reed before he crosses a line.”
“Yes, sir.” Sharing a conspiratorial look with Reed, Matt shuffled to Lawson’s other side. “But I think you mean ‘cross back over’ it, because he already went to the DMZ earlier, and I think we never left.”
Shifting one of his legs like a barrier between his subs, Lawson leaned forward, tipping Matt’s head back and looking down at him. “Don’t correct your Dom, my boy. Curtis said what he said. And there are plenty of corners here. Along with my new paddle. Let’s have fun, but remain respectful of the rules and our hosts, yes?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Matt blushed, smiling shyly up at Lawson. “May I have a ginger beer, please, Jamie?”
“On it, my man.” Brightening the bro-show, Jamie pivoted, nearly walking into Danny. “Oh, whasup?” He held out his hand for their Glamshake, automatically.
The papz will catch the interaction and see everything’s normal with Danny... Noah...
Jamie shook his head, dispelling the lopsided memories that overshadowed the evening like a gray cloud. The rest of the next half hour became lost in a whirlwind of social one-upmanship and attentiveness that had his brain hurting. Focusing on multiple conversations had his head pounding, and his face feeling stiff, his laugh growing more and more brittle.
In the main room, the atmosphere changed. Rhodey strode in, going straight to the kitchen. His voice held a bit of a roughness, but was low enough that it was hard to make out what he said. Jamie’s stomach soured with fear.
Oh, God... I pushed Noah over the cliff. Rhodey’s here to take him.
A few feet away, Jacks and Shea appeared to be the only ones who hadn’t noticed, bickering over Danny’s head about nail polish and central heating…or something.
More drinks. Everyone needs more drinks. “Does anyone want a—”
Smiling at him and opening his mouth, Keiran immediately closed it again when Rhodey came out of the kitchen. He took a step back, giving his Dom a surprised look.
Rhodey didn’t acknowledge him. He grabbed Jamie and lifted him over his shoulder flipping his brain into reset—that’s what Wren called it, right?—in the motion before snapping something at Jacks and Shea which silenced them both. Then he turned and walked out of the loft, carrying Jamie.
Oh, God. I broke Noah. I’m going to die.
In a small voice, Rhodey’s T brushing against his cheek at mid-back, Jamie found some words. “Please, I didn’t mean to hurt him. Don’t throw me off the roof. I swear, I’ll never sit on his lap again.”
“I’m not going to kill you. If I wanted you dead, I have three men in there who need the practice.” Rhodey headed downstairs. “And it’s up to Noah if he wants you in his lap again. You might want to give it a few days.”
“Is this because we didn’t invite you to the party?” Jamie’s stomach bounced against Rhodey’s shoulder as the Dom walked down the stairs, his voice vibrating with the impact. “We didn’t think you liked animated movies.” Finding his hostess voice again, he tried to remain more casual, as he remembered Avery telling him the opposite about Rhodey’s love of movies. In too deep, he continued his role. “We shouldn’t have assumed. Would you like a bourbon float?”
Straight through the dungeon, Rhodey took the back way to the security room. He sat Jamie on the empty chair, no one else in there, which meant Connor was probably taking his turn on watch on the roof.
Tapping the keyboard, Rhodey brought up his and Noah and their quad’s loft on one of the screens. Skipped back a bit, letting it play and pointing at it. “I want you to look at yourself and tell me what you see. Not the first answer that comes into your head that you think is the right one. Really look.”
Watching himself on TV had been a normal thing since he was young. Rhodey expected him to feel some shyness about it. He wouldn’t. Not as long as he wasn’t forced to watch himself screwing up. He could analyze his answers, pick apart his performances, finding all the flaws even before the critics or his manager told him about them. It was his job.
Sitting forward, frowning a little, he kept his position in the chair professional, his hands between his knees. The air in the security room was a little cooler than elsewhere—likely to keep the mercs awake—and the satin pajamas held more chill than warmth as he watched himself emerge from the bedroom and begin to circulate.
Jamie tipped his head to one side, wetting his lips. “Well, the makeup mirror must’ve gotten bumped to the night time setting and I didn’t notice, because my rouge is too dark. And I probably should’ve turned on the music earlier. Also...my walk is weird in these pajamas. I think the material keeps sticking to my leg. You’re right, sir. The press would have a field day.”
“Did you hit your head on that fucking mirror? Who exactly do you think you’re talking to that I would give a fuck about any of that?” Rhodey shook his head and sighed. “That’s all you see? Because I’ve never known you to be that superficial. Thank fuck, because I definitely would’ve thrown you off the roof.”
A little jolt of fear pulled Jamie upright, the thread of adrenaline registering behind his belly button. “You’re asking me to look at myself, sir. I can’t look at myself on screen as anything other than a commodity or I’d be too self conscious to do my work. Work that I was trained to do, to take care of my bandmates and make sure they never had to suffer because I’d fu— er...screwed up.”
“I see. So having your friends over for a movie night. That’s ‘work’.” Rhodey crouched down a bit in front of him. “You’re not in Hollywood anymore, Sylvester, and you haven’t been for a while. Those people in there? Love you. I don’t give a fuck if it makes you too self-consious to ever put out another album. You look at that screen and tell me who you see in there with the people you care about. Who care about you.”
Swallowing a bitter taste, Jamie slowly looked away from Rhodey to the screen. Saw his handshake with Danny, and how everyone cuddled around him but gave Jamie a wide berth. How he was separate from but part of the scene, with Jared flitting in and out of the kitchen, only sparing him disapproving glances. He didn’t look at himself this time, only the way people reacted to him.
“They know I hurt Noah. I always hurt him. It’s always me out of control and not being good enough. If this were Hollywood, I’d be out of work.” Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he forced them back. “I’m a fucking sub sham.”
Rhodey stood, shaking his head. And suddenly Jamie was back over his shoulder. “If you hurt Noah that often, I’d’ve dealt with you already. You’re up in your feelings right now, so let’s handle that.” Back through the dungeon, Rhodey reached the stairwell in a few long strides. He brought Jamie to his loft. Plopped him down on the sofa and disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back, he was carrying a pair of soft, purple pajamas. “Let’s get you more comfortable before I make you more uncomfortable.”
Oh...
Looking down at himself, Jamie widened his eyes, latching onto the thing that made sense. “I’m sorry, sir. Black was completely inappropriate for this event.”
Rhodey’s eyes narrowed. “If you talk to me like you’re some kind of snooty butler again, I’m gagging you.” He pulled Jamie’s pajama top over his head, popping a few buttons off with a tug when it stuck. Then he removed Jamie’s pants, almost like this was an oil change he was doing on a car, his movements quick and efficient. He put the purple pajama pants on Jamie, then the top, folding the cuffs and sleeves for a better fit. “There. Comfy?”
“Yeah...” Voice hoarse, Jamie cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.” He glanced toward the bathroom. “I might’ve messed up my eyeliner though... Can I go fix it?”
Chuckling darkly, Rhodey shook his head. “No. I’m about to make it worse.” He sat down and patted his lap. “Come here.”
It was nice of Rhodey to want to help him get his feels out by cuddling him the way he very occasionally did Danny, but it wasn’t strictly necessary.
Wrinkling his nose, Jamie plunked down on his lap. “I promise I can cry about being a screw up without you having to hug me, sir... This is... It fits with Danny better. He’s the sub people want to cuddle.”
“True. You have your moments, though. This isn’t one of them.” Rhodey flipped Jamie over, so his stomach was over his thick thighs, tugging the pajama bottoms down to bare his ass. “You can cry as much as you want. I don’t mind.”
Bringing his head up automatically, Jamie opened his mouth to protest, his hand going back to shield his ass.
Rhodey’s spankings hurt.
Not just like a punishment. More like someone trying to knock his entire body into the next galaxy. Not only that, but the dick punch...
“It was an accident!”
“I know.” Rhodey caught Jamie’s wrists, trapping them at the small of his back. “And you feel bad about it. This will help.” He landed a solid smack on both of Jamie’s ass cheeks. Hard enough to sting, but not up to the level of when he was issuing a serious punishment. Also, the sound didn’t crack loud enough that Jamie couldn’t hear him speak. “You can tell me what else you feel bad about. I’ll keep going until you’re finished or…you’re crying too hard to talk.”
Too concerned at first for his ass, and being exposed to Rhodey’s gaze, Jamie shook his head. He never struggled against punishments, usually finding them a relief. This one, though... Rhodey saw something. Something Jamie didn’t see, and he had the terrifying idea that if he looked too hard he just might. And he wouldn’t like it at all.
Knowing he had to say something, Jamie reached for the first things that came to mind. “I— I’m sorry for hurting Noah, and for taking you away from work. I promise I’ll be more careful.”
“This isn’t a punishment. And I don’t like that word. Don’t use it again.” Rhodey’s tone held a hint of warning, but the impact against his ass hadn’t grown harder or softer. The rhythm was predictable. Steady. “What do you feel bad about?”
“Nothing...everything...” Heat became a focal point for Jamie’s emotions, the impact of Rhodey’s hand keeping him from getting back into his head. “I don’t know who I am, or what I’m supposed to be, or how to make anyone happy... I used to know how to make people happy.”
Rhodey made a thoughtful sound, his hand still connecting with Jamie’s ass. “You gave them a product that made them happy. Are you trying to give the people you love a product?”
Throat tight, Jamie shook his head, his struggles to loosen Rhodey’s hold on his wrist falling away and his body going limp. There was nothing for him to do but to submit and to answer the question. The brief thought had his mind quieting. He sniffed, cheek pressed into the leather sofa cushion.
“No, sir. But I don’t—” He hissed in a breath as the heat grew. “There’s nothing left underneath. I don’t give them anything.” Saying the words cracked open the wound in his chest that always seemed so ready to spill his emotions like a toxic HazMat emergency all over the place. “I want everyone to love me, but there’s nothing inside me to love.”
Clucking his tongue, Rhodey gave Jamie’s ass a lighter patt, but didn’t release his wrists. “Do you really believe that or is that what your head’s telling you is true right now? Because I know a lot of people love you, for a lot of reasons. I know Keiran loves you, because you share some things about your pasts, even if they’re different. He loves how excited you get about the same old treats, how you make him feel good every time he brings them to you. And Danny, he loves the connection you two have, the one thing that lasted after the fucked up life you both had since you were kids.” He went back to the spanking, awakening the heat all over again. “Should I keep going or can you try to look at some of this shit yourself?”
“Wh-what shit, sir?” Unsure whether Rhodey wanted him to list all the ways he was awesome, or if he wanted more of the broken pieces, Jamie shook his head. “I never knew those little things were enough.” A roar of a crowd, that was the kind of loud you could hear through the ear monitors, and your skin just vibrated with it. “It’s not...” Hot tears dripped down his face, landing in a puddle that had become cooler beneath his cheek. “Big. I need to be big...and adult...and careful.” Anger and hurt at the words he repeated from a lecture that was at least fifteen years old in memory, surfaced. “I can’t take my eye off the ball and be the...failure everyone is waiting for me to be.”
The smacks got just a bit harder now. “No one here’s waiting for that, kitty. And those ‘little things’? They mean the world to the people who matter. Sometimes, Danny just goes on about all the ‘little things’ you did, that got him through having to deal with Trevor. Slipping into his hiding spots with him to talk where no one would hear the two of you. Checking his makeup and pointing out smudges or ‘bad colors for him’—whatever the fuck that means—to the makeup people before Trevor could make fun of him for it. Those little things are worth a lot more than whatever else it is you think people want. It’s real. And it shows you give a fuck.”
The burn had gone from a slowly smoldering fire to a blaze. Jamie bucked automatically at the next smack, twisting a little, then going limp again. “Oww...”
Part of his brain got what Rhodey said, and there was another, older part of his brain—or maybe younger, depending on the way he looked at it—that saw the patterns from his early Glam days as the way to be safe. Not to touch the hot stove. A hiding place of his own, when he had to be right out front where the lights were bright and hot and fucking terrifying.
Breaths coming faster, he tried to ride out the emotions, but somehow the spanking wouldn’t let him, and he ended up a sobbing, incoherent mess, unable to say more than, “I need— I love— D-d-don’t take—”
“There we go.” Rhodey pulled the pajama bottoms over his ass, lifting him up and holding him against his chest. He kissed the top of Jamie’s head. “You beat up the fuck who went in one direction after the way the three of you were raised. I won’t let you follow him. But I don’t mind beating on you a little bit if I see you slipping. Aren’t I nice?”
Laughing at Rhodey wasn’t generally a good idea, and especially not with a nose full of snot. Jamie choked a little, shaking his head, then nodding. Voice swollen, he tipped his head back to look up at a watery version of the Dom. “Yes, sir. I’d say you’re the best, but that’s Noah. You can be second best. Or third...”
“Stop before you end up slipping me in around number ten. I get it.” Rhodey gave him a hug, then tapped his nose. “This part, all the snuggling you’re gonna need, I’ll leave to Jared who’s going to be waiting to make sure I bring you back in one piece.” He picked up the black pajama set. “Burn these, then I’ll bring you back up.” He pointed to the fireplace in the wall. “Just toss it in.”
“Sir...it’s a gas fireplace...” Unsure whether he’d blow them all up, Jamie held onto the pajamas. The symbol of a life he’d had in L.A. where even sleeping required perfection. “Are you sure...”
Rhodey’ lips slanted. “It’s not gas, pet. I had Curtis put in a regular one. I’m old fashioned like that. Go on.”
Now that the man mentioned it, he and his subs did have a faint scent of woodsmoke about them that Jamie had equated with the amount of time they spend outdoors. Both on the roof and at Tracey’s. Standing in front of the fireplace, clutching the pajamas, he remembered the shopping trip he’d gone on with her and later with Reed when he’d first arrived and had nothing.
“Tracey is the first person I ever felt like saw me...and liked me anyway.” The pajama set landed with a soft sigh in the flames, then turned orange. “Or loved me.”
Standing, Rhodey inclined his head, coming over to pick Jamie up. This time, he held him in his arms. “She’s become a very good judge of character. If nothing else, when you’re wondering why anyone would love you? Try to see what she does. It helps.”
“Do you love me?” The words were out of Jamie’s mouth before he could stop them, and he ducked his head. “I just wondered what it’s supposed to look like. You doing this for me...”
Something occurred to him and he looked up from under the wet spikes of his lashes at the hard planes of Rhodey’s face.
“It wasn’t for me. It was for...Jared and Noah. Dealing with me.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but not bad exactly. Not good either. More...curious. Playing with the hem of one sleeve, Jamie rolled it a little more precisely. “We talked about Curtis and the island tonight in front of Noah and Jared, which was probably dumb, but it sort of just happened. I think he and I were surprised we weren’t a thing when we got back, but honest? It’s like touching a hot stove. I think he feels the same way. It brings back weird feelings...like nightmares when you’re awake, and we sort of have a silent agreement to not do anything that might bring it back. Maybe that’ll go away someday, but until then it sort of feels like a loss or a death anyway, you know? Like someone around here didn’t see me as too shallow or remote to hang out with in that way, to tag me like Jared and Noah. I think Jared only did it for Noah, which is hard sometimes, but I get it. I just wish...”
The soft purple material—obviously Keiran’s—slipped through his fingers. Comfortable, not fancy, it grounded him in the present. A place where people like Keiran, an ex porn star and top notch chef, budding merc, and class act human being, wouldn’t mind someone like him wearing his shirt. Keiran would love him like a brother, despite his fuck-ups.
“I don’t know what I wish... Noah is enough. I get sad sometimes though that other people seem to have more lines and people...Doms...who see them. It was nice. Tonight.” Glancing up at Rhodey, Jamie gave him a small smile with his shrug. “I know you’re not and you can’t be, and I’m not asking for it, but I wanted to let you know. It was nice to have that for a bit. Even if it was for Jared. A fringe benefit.”
Rhodey stilled partway up the stairs when Jamie began talking and hadn’t moved since. There was a length of silence, as though he was making sure Jamie was done. Then he huffed and jostled Jamie a little bit. “Yes, I love you, you silly kitty. And also yes, part of this was for Jared. Part of it was because you needed it. It’s fucked up that the thing you share with Curtis is like a nightmare, but…well, I started off my relationship with Avery by almost snapping his neck. It takes all kinds of experiences to get us through this shitshow we call a life. Some of it is utter trash. And there’s nothing we can do about it except wait for the next good thing. And hope there might still be a few good people by our sides when we get there.”
Conscious that this might’ve been the most personal thing Rhodey’d ever revealed to him, Jamie searched his gaze. He’d seen and done a lot as a merc, and most of it had probably been really fucking hard. Understanding of his own place and Rhodey’s softer middle—a middle that until this moment Jamie’d been pretty much unaware of—clicked.
“Wow.” Jamie didn’t break Rhodey’s dark gray gaze for a moment. “You do all this for us. Not just Keiran, Dallas, Noah, and Jared... I thought—” He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. “I never thought I factored in, but I do. We all do.” Leaning in, he brushed Rhodey’s stubbled jaw with a soft kiss. “Thank you, sir.”
Rhodey’s lips curved. “You’re welcome, Sylvester.” He shifted Jamie to one side, using part of his shirt to wipe Jamie’s face. “There we go. Tears make good makeup remover. I don’t mind the eyeliner, it’s cute, you trying to be all edgy. But I see you wearing it and being fake and you don’t get to wear it anymore, you hear me? I don’t want anything that fucks with you or isn’t real.”
Nodding slowly, Jamie took in Rhodey’s orders, trying in his head to reconcile them with Noah’s orders to keep himself like he’d been when he’d arrived. He’d thought about changing his hair color a few times, but after the island he’d just wanted to pretend nothing had happened and everything was under control. Noah’s control.
“Not even for interviews, sir?” Deciding how much realness to display for the cameras could be tricky. Which meant he usually went with the formulas he knew worked. And weren’t real in the least.
That got him a dry look. “Did I say you could do interviews? Pretty sure I didn’t. But if you’re asking if you can, we’ll see. Make sure you’re okay where you live before you worry about where you don’t.” Rhodey huffed out a laugh and continued up the stairs. “Maybe we don’t need Stephan after all. Look at me, being all therapeutic and shit.”
Jamie breathed out a laugh. “May we keep him anyway, sir? You can’t be everywhere at once.” He frowned a little. “Though, I don’t think he believes in physical therapy.”
“You say the strangest things.” Rhodey shook his head as he approached the door to Jamie’s loft. “He’s not that kind of therapist. He fixes your brain.”
“But you fixed my brain with your hand on my ass?” Jamie started to turn to look behind himself, chin tilted down, then gave up. He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe because my head is usually up it? Still. Physical therapy.”
Eyes widening, Rhodey stared at him. Then snorted. “That’s not what physical therapy is, but I’ll let Jared explain that to you. I just beat on you a little so you could let all the fucked up stuff go. It works on my boys—well, except Danny. He cries without me needing to go there. Ruins all my fun.”
“Yeah. Hurting Danny, you’d have to like kicking puppies.” Jamie scowled at the door to the loft. “Trevor kicked a puppy once. I punched him. That was before I knew how. I couldn’t play guitar for six weeks.” He stared down at his left hand, flexing his bandaged fingers. “Is it wrong that I wished Keiran had let me snuff him? I would’ve regretted it, but it felt so good right then.”
Rhodey lifted his shoulders. “It’s not weird, but Keiran was following orders. In a…loose way. He helps Avery out with moral dilemmas. Dealing with yours was easy. He’s making sure you stay you.”
That made a huge amount of sense. Jamie nodded some more. “I’ll work on figuring out who that is, and try not to mess up so much in the process.” He snuggled into Rhodey’s big arms, understanding why Danny enjoyed having the Dom near him so much. He felt...like the ultimate home base. Totally safe. “Sir...should I leave Noah alone tonight? Is he going to think I don’t care? Do you think he’s mad? Disappointed? I want to say sorry to him, and take care of him, but Jared won’t...I don’t think he thought that was a good idea.”
Expression going serious now, Rhodey held Jamie’s gaze, giving him a tight squeeze. “Give him some space. Not because he’s mad—he’s not—or because anyone thinks you can’t care for your Dom. Because he needs some space where he can feel like it’s okay to be hurt and not try to hide it for anyone else. He doesn’t do that with Jared, the man won’t let him. He’ll do it for you and Wren. Tomorrow, when he’s had time to feel more like himself and less…fuck, vulnerable, I guess? Then you can tell him you’re sorry. Just, do it like you’re aware it was an accident and not like it’s the end of the fucking world. Unless his dick’s permanently broken. Then you might wanna try a different approach. Groveling. Lots and lots of groveling.”
Jamie pressed his tongue to his lower lip, wetting it. “Yes, sir. I can do that. I always thought husbands were supposed to be able to be vulnerable with each other, but I maybe watch too many Brené Brown videos on YouTube. She probably wouldn’t have much fun here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rhodey adjusted Jamie in his arms. “You’re in your relationship, not anyone else’s. Just keep that in mind. And now…” He tapped in the code to open the door. “I’ve reached my talking limit. But let’s do this again sometimes. I’ll come up with a different reason. Surprise you.”
As fucked up as it was, that actually sounded really nice. He might not know Rhodey all that well, but Jamie knew enough to feel like this whole letting go thing with the man could give him something he’d never known he was missing until he’d come to The Asylum.
Himself.
*****
*****
Rhodey as a therapist…🤔 Could be as entertaining as when he serves drinks behind the bar 😂
ReplyDeleteRhodey is the best
ReplyDeleteLove this! Great to be inside Jamie's head again and to see Rhodeys soft side
ReplyDeleteI like Rhodey being helpfull to Jamie because he understands how Noah's brain works.
ReplyDeleteSometimes, Rhodey is the best comic relief!
ReplyDelete