Love & Stitches at The Asylum: Part Seventy
Ready for a weekend of partying, Asylum style?
For those asking, this is part of Love & Stitches Book 4, which you can grab here if you don't feel like waiting for the weekends:
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Stretching his arm out, Jamie carefully placed it over Wren’s chest to cuddle closer. The bed was cold without Noah’s bulk behind him. In the hubbub of final party preparations after the poker night, there hadn’t been much alone time with his Doms, but everyone seemed normal, and the time in Connor’s studio apartment had been...kinda epic.
Usually, Wren was up before him, but today Jared had given Jamie a nudge to wake him, so he didn’t miss his cues. He had one job for today and that was to make sure Wren didn’t leave the loft. Simple enough. As long as he stayed awake himself, which he totally wouldn’t if he started daydreaming about Connor.
Trailing his fingers down the length of his neck, he swallowed a couple times experimentally. The slight soreness that had been there yesterday was gone, and there hadn’t been any bruising. So, Jared couldn’t actually complain that he’d been marked. Which was kind of disappointing, but there would be plenty of time for that kind of play once Connor gave him his tag...if Jared said, ‘yes’.
The possibility that his other Dom might not consent to sharing him hadn’t entered his mind, but at that moment with none of his two current ones present, the world seemed a little larger. More uncertain, in a way he rarely felt because when he wasn’t with one of them, he was with Connor, or in his studio, distracted by the music he made, or Danny’s disaster scenarios.
Sitting up a little, he rolled a bit to grab his phone and opened one eye to look blearily at the time. Then glanced at Wren, who was curled up under the pile of blankets closer to Jared’s side of the bed. Going into the studio now would be a bad idea...wouldn’t it?
Half his mind on the lyrics he’d come up with while with Connor, he started to slip out of bed. But his phone’s buzz and chime startled him into stillness. Glancing at it, he groaned a little. A text from his mom was not how he wanted to start Wren’s birthday.
Swiping up, he tapped the app, intending to delete it without reading it. Except the first few words caught his eye.
Coming to see you, honey. Be there soon.
“Fuck!” He shot out of bed, nearly tripping over the covers on his way to the door.
Startled awake, Wren pushed out of bed, half tangled in the sheets, but somehow managing not to fall on his face. He looked around the room, not seeming to see it. “Noah? I’m not leaving without him. He asked me to stay…” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Jamie? I’m… Are you all right?”
Jamie turned, phone in his hand, starting to shove it at Wren like it might contain his actual mother and somehow, his co-sub could jettison her far, far away from him, and The Asylum. Thinking better of it, he spun away, then back again, doing what felt like a strange naked panic dance.
“She’s coming. Here. We have to stop her.” He clutched the phone hard enough the glass cracked, and shook it at Wren. “Get Rhodey. Get the National Guard! I don’t care who the fuck we get. Just...”
Shaking his head, Wren approached him, holding his gaze like he could somehow get Jamie to absorb some of his calm. He eased the phone from Jamie’s hand. “Let me take care of this for you. I can do it without bringing Rhodey in. Can you go get me a can of Red Bull?”
Laughter a little hysterical, Jamie shook his head, tugging the phone back. “No way, dude. You’re not getting your hands caned on your birthday.” Taking a step away, he went into the living where Rhodey wasn’t so picky about keeping watch, not caring he was starkers. “Rhodey? My mom’s on her way here. Want to have some tea?” Times like this, he sort of felt like Samantha in Bewitched calling Dr. Bombay. “Or, you know, I could hand my phone to Wren and have him nuke her plane?”
There was a buzzing sound as the front door opened, Connor stepping in and holding up a finger before he took out his own phone. He brought it to his ear, nodding a few times. “Yes, I can handle this. No. I’ll do it my way. Thanks for the heads up.” He closed the door, tucking his phone in the pocket of his faded blue jeans before stepping up to Jamie, hand out, palm up. “Give me your phone. Rhodey just told me. We’re going to avoid you having to go to a big, fancy funeral and fake crying. It always makes your face blotchy and I know how self-conscious those pictures make you.”
Practically falling over himself to get to Connor, Jamie threw himself into his arms. “I swear, I’m not scared of her. I just don’t want her doing shit to Noah and today’s supposed to be—” He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry. I woke Wren up.”
“This is around the time he usually gets up, so don’t worry about it. I’ve got you, my sweet little diva.” Connor pressed a kiss to the top of Jamie’s head. “Today’s going to be a good day. For both of you, I promise. Go get dressed while I make a few phone calls.”
Relief flooded his system, making his fingertips tingle as he handed Connor his phone. “Yes, sir.”.
Memories of other times, other places, when fans and family wanted access to him for their own gain, roared back. The way Connor became his own personal brick wall, keeping them at bay while also not causing hard feelings or damaging Jamie’s image with the press, was an artform in itself.
Nodding, he swallowed and breathed deep. “Yeah.” Finally managed to crack a smile. “You’ve totally got this. Thank you, sir.”
“You know it.” Connor winked at him, then nudged him toward the bedroom. “Clothes. Make sure Wren gets dressed, too, he won’t be comfortable coming out here naked when he’s not expecting me. And I love the bedhead look, but Jacks might take offense to you making his work look like fluff ball on crack.”
Already on his way to the bedroom, Jamie giggle snorted. “One of the misfit mafia said I looked like a character from one of Reed’s mangas, and that Pike was Sonic the Hedgehog.” L.D. sauntered out of the bedroom, eyeing Connor and hissing as a matter of course. “Be right back.”
Giving him a thumbs up, Connor went to the kitchen, both his and Jamie’s phones in his hand. He set them on the counter, tapping away with one hand while he took out the cat treats, tossing one to L.D. before turning his attention fully away from the cat, as though to say ‘I won’t bother you, I get it’s your space’. Whatever he was looking for on Jamie’s phone, he apparently found, because he picked up his own, asking for someone who sounded vaguely familiar.
In the bedroom, Jamie headed for his dressing closet. “Sorry, Wren. That was a shitty way to wake you up.”
“It’s all right, your mother isn’t the type of horror movie monster I enjoy. There’s absolutely nothing vaguely interesting or redeemable about her. At least Hannibal Lecter knew how to cook. Are you going to the Center today? Connor’s not usually here this early.” Wren’s brow furrowed as he pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, then socks, his clothes already laid out in the precise order he always got dressed in. “I hope you enjoy yourself. I can’t imagine being around that many children all the time, but if you ever need help cleaning up after they’re all gone I wouldn’t mind.”
Taking a pair of plain white underpants from his dresser, Jamie looked around, thinking fast. Wren was too bright to take a bullshit answer like Connor hanging out, because he was right. They usually did that at the Center and this day of the week was where he’d usually be with the preschool Theater class, rehearsing their hand puppet stage play of Little Rabbit Foo-Foo.
“Um. No. Not today. There’s a flu going around, so we’re being careful.” Jeans next, he found his favorite pair on top of the dresser where he’d left them the night before, and shook them out. “I could use your expertise though...” Sticking his head out, he raised his voice so Connor would hear him. “Connor’s helping me sort through my clothes to take to the donation center before Jared beats my ass for flagrant rule breaking of the Clean Closet Mandate.”
Wren made a face, going to the closet and looking it over. “Yes, I can see him being…less than pleased. Jacks helped you get rid of a lot of the things you didn’t need anymore, but you enjoy variety and all the new things you got suit you very well. You did mention to him they were on sale? That should make a difference. And you needed a new spring wardrobe.” He paused, shaking his head. “No, not spring. In any case, if it’s organized very specifically he might not find it so excessive. I can help you with that.” He perked up and grinned as he turned. “Jacks has some of those nice baskets. He mentioned he got more than he needed. I’ll go ask him if I can have some to use to organize your things.”
“Oh, nice!” Think fast, Kent! Scrambling into a thick three-quarter zip black fleece, Jamie popped his head out in time to step in front of Wren. “Would you ask him to take some pictures of the cats they’re taking care of? There’s like ten of them from the shelter that got flooded out on Laurel Avenue.”
Eyes going wide, Wren stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “That’s probably why Danny’s staying down by the pool with Stephan and Drew. He’ll be worrying himself sick that they won’t survive. Yes, I’ll get some pictures for you. And I’m going to see if Rhodey can get the vet to come and bring the kittens somewhere more…appropriate. Maybe they’d be comfortable where Vani brought the penguins. Cats are very adaptable.”
Waving his hands wildly behind Wren’s retreating back to get Connor’s attention, Jamie mouthed ‘LOCKDOWN!’ and pointed emphatically at Wren. “Um... Maybe I’ll come with you? I could use some of that...fresh litter box smell...”
“Nope. Jamie, you go get the baskets.” Connor’s voice was tinged with laughter as he hung up his last call, motioning Wren back to the bedroom. “I think reorganizing the closet is a very good idea, Wren. I know how thorough you are, so why don’t you get started pulling things out? We want a good job, but it needs to be done before Jared comes back or there’s no way he’ll let Jamie keep even half of this.” He reached out and gave Jamie a sharp smack on the ass. “You don’t have time for another kitten. Go enjoy cooing over them, and remind Jacks that his sub having to sleep by the pool to avoid heartbreak makes him look like a bit of an asshole. But say it nicely.”
Since there were no cats, that shouldn’t be hard. Danny was down by the pool to prepare for the tower portion of the dragon/princess roleplay his Doms had set up. Enjoying the heat in his seat, Jamie grinned up at Connor with all the gratitude he could muster in his expression.
“Yes, sir. Thanks for waking my brain up through my ass.” Skipping sideways, he made it to the door before giving Wren a thumbs up. “All the new stuff is still in the boxes and bags on the rear shelf. Careful. It kinda all slips on itself and avalanches.”
Shaking his head, Wren disappeared out of sight, his voice coming out of the closet. “All of this will need to be ironed or steamed. I’ll get started on that after I empty out the closet. Jacks isn’t an…that word, sir. He gets very excited about random projects and isn’t aware of how many interesting diseases wild animals can have. I’ll speak to him later so he knows Danny isn’t being overly dramatic. I do wish he could see how fascinating the impact of some of these viruses are, though. Most are treatable…”
Connor stood in the doorway, nodding even as he caught Jamie’s eye. “Hurry up so Wren has what he needs for this. Then I have something for you.”
“Yeah?” Doing an excited little hop, Jamie opened the door to the hall, grinning. “Be back in a jiff.”
It might be one of Keiran’s cupcakes, or...it might be the promised tag. Without knowing if Connor had managed to get some time with Jared yet—which was unlikely given how busy everyone had been—it was difficult to tell. Still, Jamie’s heart raced at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d officially be Connor’s boy by the afternoon when the party started.
Down on Jacks and Shea’s floor, he knocked on the door using a rhythmic little beat and began singing the lyrics to his new favorite song, trying out some vocal runs that had been challenging him. Screwed it up, and tried again.
The door opened, Shea already turning away before even saying ‘Hello’, leaving Jamie to enter on his own. “I wouldn’t lie to you, babe. It’s not a bald spot. Your hair is perfect.” He looked around the living room, which was covered in different swaths of fabric, then back toward Jamie. “Don’t mind the mess, the man I love has turned into Manic Barbie.”
“Well someone has to dress Manic Ken.” Pointing at his chest with his thumb, Jamie threw himself on the sharp end of the joke.
Shea rolled his eyes at him, carefully stepping over the fabric. “Do you want some coffee? Matt just brought some up and there’s an extra cup for Danny, but he already had some with Drew downstairs. I’m starting to get the appeal of those cells more and more. Next time this place has a big event? I’m claiming one.”
“Coffee sounds fucking amazing, thanks. I’m here for the baskets for the closet.” Grinning at Shea, who always seemed like a sexy version of Archie Bunker to him, Jamie jammed his hands in his fleece pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Wren sent me down. I almost shit myself when he said he was going to get them. That after my mother tried to sail in on her fucking broom this morning. What a way to wake up.”
“Two things.” Shea came over, handing him a tall cup of coffee with the RoughHouse Café logo on it. He continued to the spare room. “Yes, please take these damn baskets. I think Jacks is in a competition with Reed to collect more of them than the boy has marbles and it’s…yeah.” He began pulling out several wicker baskets in different shapes and sizes. “And your mother? I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy… Okay, maybe one or two. But I like you, so whatever needs to be done to keep her away? I’m all in.”
For the first time in his life—perhaps the second, because Trevor—Jamie contemplated murder. “Yeah? You do contract hits?” He took a basket, juggling it with the coffee and taking a sip. “Because I have to tell you, after this morning I’m severely tempted to take you up on that.”
From the other room, Jacks called out, “Please don’t involve my man in your family’s illegal activities, or I’ll take my sewing shears to your faux mink.”
Shea snorted, snagging the basket out of Jamie’s arm and bringing it—along with a few others that didn’t match, which would be a problem—to pile up by the door. “I work with Connor. He has strict policies on when we’re even allowed to carry. What do you think?”
“Oh. Then, it was a figure-eight of speech?” Jamie took another sip of coffee, Matt’s awesome brew bathing his tongue. Then had to take another. “By the way, Wren thinks you have ten cats down here.”
Sputtering on his own coffee, which he’d grabbed on his way back, Shea stared at him. “Cats? Why the hell would we have that many cats? Or any cats? I’m a dog person, but I prefer having my little pup than adding another pup that would mess with my man’s fabric and chew on his sexy fucking shoes. Not that Danny doesn’t do it sometimes, but that’s cute. And doesn’t do as much damage.”
Coming back out in what appeared to be the head portion of the dragon costume, Jacks walked into a wall. “Nope. Still can’t see in this. Dammit.”
“Another reason Danny’s better off down by the pool.” Shea sighed, going over to take the head off Jacks. “Keep this up and I’m going to text Jared to make sure you didn’t scramble your brains.”
Hair going every which way, Jacks blew a few of his golden brown strands out of his eyes before his gaze landed on Jamie. Then widened. “For fucks’ sake! What did you do to your hair?”
Jamie’s hand went up to his head automatically, where he felt the frizzy strands. Like Connor had warned him, they appeared to have been dried on the clothes dryer’s floof setting. “It kinda is just like this when I wake up now?” He tried combing it out with his fingers, but snagged it on his wedding band. “Ouch. Nope. I think I have the wrong product or something.”
“Wrong product?” Jacks spun away, covering his eyes. “I can’t even. I think I fried your hair.”
“What?” Horror dropped the bottom of Jamie’s stomach out, the coffee following to the floor as he raised both hands to grip his head. Thankfully, none of it came out. “No. I think it’s just because I used mousse, and that’s drying.”
Lips thinned, Jacks stalked toward him and stopped with one shoe in the puddle of coffee—thankfully, there hadn’t been a lot left—to examine Jamie’s scalp. “I used the same dye lot on my hair, and I think it’s falling out. Have you noticed any thinning?”
Giving Shea a help me look, Jamie shook his head. “Nope. And I kinda have to get these baskets back before Wren notices—”
“Fuck the baskets!” Jacks startled him into taking a step back. “We have to fix this right now.”
Over by the liquor cabinet—kinda looked like Jared’s style and might’ve been a housewarming gift—Shea opened his coffee and poured in a helping of rum. He had his phone to his ear, held there by his shoulder. “I wouldn’t bug you, but this is an emergency. No, no one’s bleeding, but please come up here and tell both your sub and my partner neither of them is going bald. I’ll owe you like fucking twenty.”
It was possible from across the room to hear Jared’s “Thousand. You’ll owe me twenty-thousand. And when I get there, tell Jamie to have his ass ready to be handed to him for leaving Wren in the loft.”
Butt cheeks clenching, Jamie tried to back out of Jacks’ hold.
“So I’ll see you soon?” Shea’s lips quivered, like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Danny’s going to be coming back up and I don’t want him getting mixed up in this. To be fair, Jacks was trying to do your boy a favor and he’s just worried. I’ll owe you whatever, my man.”
A knock sounded on the door behind Jamie, making him jump. His bare foot landed in the puddle of coffee and he slipped, grabbing for Jacks to keep him upright. And they both went down, Jacks landing on top of him, one hand by Jamie’s head and one knee dangerously close to Jamie’s crotch.
Squeaking, Jamie tried to roll out of the way. “Geroff!”
“I thought starlets got special training to be all graceful.” Shea opened the door, coughing in a failed attempt to hide the laughter that had his eyes tearing. “Someone needs to have a chat with whoever trained them both. Good morning, Jared.”
Jared’s boots came into view at Jamie’s eye level, which under other circumstances could be kinda hot. “Give your man a hand up, Shea.”
Sobering, Shea clenched his jaw, giving Jared a sideways look before he seemed to decide the request was reasonable and hauled Jacks to his feet. “You okay?”
“Yes. My dignity is a little bruised, but...” Tossing his head to clear his deep green eyes of his hair, Jacks placed one hand on Shea’s shoulder. “Yes.”
Without commenting, Jared hooked his fingers to Jamie’s belt loops and tugged him up to stand him on his feet. “I told you to stop dyeing your hair if you’re worried about losing it. Brown is a perfectly acceptable color.” World spinning as his Dom oriented him toward the door with several stinging smacks across his backside, Jamie gasped and automatically tried to dance out of the way. “Get back in the loft and don’t leave again until I come get you.”
Jamie grabbed the baskets on his way past with his, “Yes, sir.”
“If you need more baskets, text Jacks and I’ll bring them up,” Shea called after him, before lowering his voice, speaking to Jared now. “Jacks knows what he’s doing. The product is safe. He just needs someone else to tell him he’s freaking out over nothing. Look, right here—” He must’ve been showing Jared the spot of concern on Jacks’ head. “It’s not fucking balding, it’s the damn wig glue.”
The door swung shut before Jamie heard whatever Jared said, but the deep rumble of his voice registered even through the steel core door. More soberly than when he’d come down, Jamie returned to their own loft, towing only a few of the baskets he’d managed to grab with him. He paused outside the stairwell to reorient his mood and practiced putting a bright smile on his face.
“Here, I’ll hold those while you get the door.” Coming up to his side quietly enough that he’d obviously been training with Avery, Danny gave him a sympathetic look. “Did they break another coffee table? It kinda freaks me out when they start wrestling, but after a few times I got that it’s just messing around. And usually no one gets hurt but that table. Curtis said this one would survive.” He sighed. “R.I.P.”
Forced to laugh, because it really was funny, Jamie shook his head. “Thanks. No. No casualties. Jacks was worried about his hair, and Shea wanted Jared to look at it. Something about wig glue.” He pressed a kiss to Danny’s soft cheek, getting the door with one hand. “Come on in. Thanks for being back-up.”
“No problem. And I feel better, knowing Jared’s with them.” Danny looked over the baskets, his lips curving slightly. “Shea will be really happy you’re taking these. They’ve been multiplying like those tribbles you told me about. But not as cute.”
Tribbles reminding him, Jamie widened his eyes, motioning Danny back into the hall for a moment. Voice lowered, he clued Danny in. “I had to figure out a way to keep Wren out of your loft, so I lied and told him you were fostering ten cats in there. It didn’t work, so Connor stepped in, but you might want to think of some names in case he asks.”
Danny winced, but nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t like lying, but it’s for a good cause, so it’s okay, right? Maybe it’ll be more believable if I don’t come up with names? Because I wouldn’t, in case the new fur parents wanted to name them. The poor things would get so confused. And what about all Jacks’ sewing stuff? That would be so dangerous for them…”
“Do you think I should penny myself?” Jamie hadn’t really thought about it as lying lying, but maybe it was bad to do that no matter what? Shouldering back in the door, he held it open for Danny. “I could text Noah and ask him after I get my phone back from Connor.”
Without hesitation, Danny shook his head. “You’re not supposed to punish yourself. I heard Quint telling Pike that last time I was in the clinic to make sure I had all the right vitamins. I was positive I’d run out of something. Quint gave me some Omega gummies, which are actually pretty good… Anyway, Quint was saying Pike couldn’t force himself to eat nothing but broccoli for a week because he accidentally ate the last piece of cake. they were saving for Seth. Quint’s a good sub, so he’d totally know.” He lowered his voice, glancing at the door. “Isn’t Connor one of your Doms now? Maybe you should ask him?”
Jamie wrinkled his nose, trying to decide which thing to tackle first, then realized it was all the same topic really. He’d gotten better at remembering the beginning, middle, and end of a conversation—which was important because most of the other subs tended to hop from topic to topic without drawing a breath. At first, it had kind of thrown him, but he was a pro now.
“Um, yeah. Punishing myself would be weird, I guess. I was trying to multitask for Noah since he’s not here.” It wasn’t exactly Topping from the bottom...or was it, since he was a bottom and he was Topping himself? “Anyway, Connor’s not my Dom yet.” Jamie pointed at his throat, where his collar held two tags, Jared’s and Noah’s, then went to the kitchen to grab a Red Bull for Wren and a chilled pre-packaged coffee drink for himself. “Speaking of...did you see the caricature that one of the misfit mafia morons drew of Reed walking hunched over with a billion tags at his throat dragging him down? I wanted to punch the bastard.”
Hand going to his own throat, Danny drew in a sharp breath. “That’s…just cruel. But don’t punch them, if you hurt your hands you won’t be able to play guitar for a long time again and you’ll be miserable and you’ll hide out in your room and if there’s a fire no one will be able to get you out…” He turned to look up at the smoke detectors. “Have these been checked recently?”
“The detectors are good. Rhodey has them done on the regular, and Lawson has them on a schedule for the fire inspector.” Flexing his fingers, Jamie winced. “Yeah. That wasn’t cool. About the hands.” He handed Danny a zero-cal coffee drink. “Want to come help with my closet? You can tell me which things to keep and which ones make my ass look obscenely huge.”
Wrinkling his nose at Jamie, Danny gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Your ass looks great in everything. But I know a lot of what’s in style because of Jacks so maybe I can tell you what you can revive by being you and what’s not worth the effort? Like anything made somewhere unethical, Jacks’ taught me a lot about that, too. You don’t want to be photographed wearing any of that.”
“Thanks, dude.” About to leave the kitchen, Jamie stopped at the drinks fridge, grabbing a beer for Connor. He nodded, listening to Danny as he juggled the drinks. “And, yeah. I don’t buy anything made by Republicans.”
“That’s good, but I’ve never thought to check… Jacks probably does, though.” Danny took a sip of his drink, pulling his sleeve over his hand to hold it. “Thank you for this, it’s really good. And I don’t want to get dehydrated while helping with the closet. I know I don’t look like I know much about fashion, but…I listen. To you and Jacks. So…I’ll do my best.”
Danny really needs to give himself more credit.
“You and me, we had people dressing us, and you do great with far fewer clothes than I do. I gotta buy out the store just to figure out what looks good with what, and half the time Jacks has to fix my screw ups.”
Leading them toward the bedroom, Jamieh navigated around L.D., who gnawed on a giant dog bone that looked like he might’ve stolen it from Koda.
“I don’t know where L.D. keeps getting those things. Is he crawling through the vents with Avery now?” Inside the bedroom, piles of clothes were neatly stacked all over the bed, some on the chair. “Oh, man.” He spoke under his breath. “Jared better not come up here anytime soon.”
Inside the closet, Connor’s voice came with the kind of patient tone he used to use when he was trying to get Jamie to understand something had to be one way, while Jamie was determined to do it another. Only this time, he was speaking to Wren. “Yes, those are close to the same shade, but you have to consider the fabric and what he’ll be using it for. These are his clubbing shirts.”
“But if they went over here, both size and color would flow.” Wren came out of the closet, blinking, then smiling as he looked at Jamie and Danny. “Good morning. We’re having some difficulties agreeing on how best to organize your clothes. I think I’ll work on placing things in the baskets—disagreeing with a Dom is very uncomfortable…” He gave the baskets a pained look. “They’re…all different. I should go ask Jacks if he has any that match. Danny, could you start rolling the jeans?”
Connor came out and lifted a silk shirt from where it had been hung on the bed frame. “Only the casual ones. We’ll hang up the designer ones. If they still have tags, we’ll keep them near the front.”
“I can do that.” Danny crawled onto the bed and began sorting the jeans. “Jamie doesn’t wear his clubbing shirts only around here. Sometimes he wears them just to hang out. Maybe you can go with whatever’s easiest for him? Like…so he can find things?”
Ugh, Wren, you never leave the loft. Why is my life?
Jamie hopped sideways to block the bedroom door and gave Connor a pleading look. “Jared’s kinda cranky about the closet. I got whacked already for annoying him. Maybe we could not with the baskets right now and just...” He shrugged, holding out the baskets. “Cover them in fabric we buy online so they all look the same and...save the environment or something?”
“Jacks has plenty of fabric…” Danny appeared to catch on, because he gave Jamie a little nod before pulling one of the baskets over. “And I know he has more of this one for sure. How about we divide everything up and we can transfer them after? So we don’t bug any of the Doms?” His cheeks reddened as he glanced at Connor. “Present company excluded.”
Making a motion like he was brushing it off, Connor smiled at Danny. “I think that’s a very good idea. How about you and Wren work on that for now. I need to discuss a few things with Jamie.” He turned his attention to Jamie and winked at him. “Including how I can help you avoid annoying your Dom. And what you can do with any clothes that don’t quite fit here.”
Gratitude for Danny morphing into butterflies for Connor, whose wink was like a whole ‘nother level of aphrodisiac, Jamie nodded readily. “I mean, if you don’t mind, Danny? I know this is all my mess, really, and I don’t want you guys stuck dealing with it alone...” Realizing he’d just contradicted the gently worded order of a Dom, his own cheeks heated. “Or I can just, you know...do what you said, sir?”
Connor breathed out a laugh, putting an arm around Jamie’s shoulders and drawing him to his side, leaving Danny—who’d quickly assured Jamie he didn’t mind—and Wren to discuss the color wheel and best storage for every fabric under the sun while carefully placing his clothes in different sections.
After closing the door behind them, Connor turned, framing Jamie’s jaw with his hand. He backed him against the wall, claiming a long, deep kiss. “I spoke to Jared.”
Reeling from the sudden kiss, it took Jamie a moment to understand Connor’s words. Wall against his back, head tipped back, he searched brown eyes so unlike Noah’s. It was a weird time to think about his husband and Dom at that moment, but a shifting of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on made him conscious of not only Connor, but all the people he loved, and who loved him. Like there was room in his heart for them, for this, and for so much more, and he was so fucking grateful to have this abundance of love.
Someone he’d cared about for a very long time—who’d been with him so much, and who he’d never really dared to hope might feel more than a sense of professional responsibility for him—had put himself, his job, and his place in Jamie’s life on the line to claim more than just a few moments of passion with him. It was a lot.
His breathless, “Yeah?” was full of hope and a tiny bit of thrill. “And, was he, like, cool? Or...did he give you a hard time?”
The edge of Connor’s lips tipped up as he shifted back just enough to pull something out of the pocket of his jeans. “He gave me the third degree, but I was expecting that. He wants what’s best for you. So do I. So we’re on the same page.” Holding out a small, black, velvet covered box, Connor held his gaze, his own very serious now. “Now I need to ask the most important person. You. Will you be my boy?”
Jamie didn’t really care if there was a spent bullet, a soda pop-top, or a tag in the box. The answer would have been the same. He nodded, his, “Yes, sir, please,” whispered with reverence as he opened the lid. Inside, the beautiful platinum moon with diamond stars took his breath away. Lips parted, he lifted his gaze. “Wow...”
“I thought you’d like that.” Connor grinned, brushing his knuckles down Jamie’s cheek. “And I’ll be honored to have you wearing it. There was also another condition of my becoming your Dom, which is more than I expected to be given, but I’m damn well looking forward to it. And…” He tapped Jamie’s nose. “It will solve the crowded closet problem. You’ll be spending a few nights a week at my place. I’m going to have Curtis build you a walk-in closet. You get to have that. And this. What do you think?”
Half convinced he walked through a dream and would wake up at any moment, Jamie laughed a little nervously. “What do I think? I think you’re kind of spoiling me rotten, and I seriously love it. Thank you.” Standing on tiptoe, he nuzzled Connor’s earlobe with his lips, giving the shell of his ear a tame flick of his tongue. “I have no idea what I could do to make it up to you.”
“Don’t be silly, there’s nothing to ‘make up to’ me. I’ll enjoy doing it.” Connor gave him a hooded look. “But if you insist, I could probably come up with a few things.”
A slanted grin on his lips, Jamie made a thoughtful sound. “What kind of diva would I be if I didn’t insist?”
Chuckling, Connor stroked his hands down Jamie’s lower back, then gripped his ass, bringing their hips together. “Very true. But I won’t make a very good impression on your other two Doms if I let you do that now, tempting as it is. For the meantime, I want you to go through your stuff and make up a few ‘donation boxes’ of things I’ll bring over to my place for you. I promised Noah I wouldn’t say anything to Wren. He wants the info to come from either him or Jared.”
Running his fingertip over the metal disk of Connor’s tag, Jamie nodded. “That makes sense. It’ll worry him less. Change can be hard for him, and I think Noah, Jared, and I probably have to have a couple more conversations.” This was good though, and it felt...right. For everyone. “You made me the luckiest boy in The Asylum today, Connor. I’m so happy. I can’t wait to spend time showing you.”
“Neither can I. I’m going to be claiming my days very soon.” Connor glanced down at the tag. His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t want to wait to put this on you, but…” He snapped his fingers, his grin spreading again. “It’s a little chilly down in the club. I know there will be costumes, but for now, go get one of your favorite turtlenecks and put it on. That should keep the tag from drawing questions before we’re ready to answer them.”
“I can really have it now?” Feeling his eyes shining, Jamie held out the box. “I can...be yours right now?”
Making a soft sound of agreement, Connor leaned in for another kiss. “You already are. Go get the turtleneck. Then whatever you want to put together to start making my place yours, too.”
Arms around Connor’s neck, Jamie swallowed hard, pushing back happy tears, not wanting Wren to see the emotion on his face. He eased back, then ducked away to do what his Dom asked. He’d spent close to a lifetime writing ballads, had experienced love on levels he’d never expected actually existed.
Marrying Noah, having Wren—his closest friend and dearest equal lover—in his life, and Jared’s protection, had seemed like more than any one person had a right to in a lifetime. Connor’s love was an unexpected layer of connection he’d never hoped might be his.
There were still so many chapters in all of his relationships, yet unwritten, and this one started a whole new book. A story he couldn’t wait to find out the twists and turns to. Gaze skipping over Noah’s books, he trailed his fingers across his favorites, smiling quietly to himself as he went past into the bedroom.
And got ready to turn the page on his next adventure.
****
Check back tomorrow for Part 71!
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