Page 111 of Men in Shorts

Colin sat up, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

His boyfriend’s face was hidden behind his arm, his wrists still bound above his head. But he was so still, so silent…

Colin crawled up and pushed Andrew’s arm aside. “Are you all?—”

His voice died when he saw Andrew’s tears.

“Foosball,” Colin said, though it felt far too late.

Chapter7

To Andrew,the safe word rang like a death sentence.

“I’m fine,” he tried to reply, but the words stuck in his throat.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Colin undid the straps on Andrew’s wrists, then leapt to the foot of the bed to release his ankles. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Andrew needed to reassure him. His one job was to make Colin whole and happy, and here he was weeping like a child, useless and mute.

“What happened?” Colin asked as he untied his feet. “Are you hurt?”

Andrew could only shake his head. He felt like a hermit crab without a shell, exposed and defenseless. Colin’s urgent voice was making it worse, battering him as much as any blow.

“Talk to me, Andrew.” Colin knelt beside the bed, his face looming close. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”

Andrew clamped his eyes shut and turned his mouth to the pillow to muffle the sobs. He just wanted to disappear.

“Christ, I’m such an idiot.” Colin groaned, and Andrew could picture him clutching his hair the way he did after missing a goal. “I’m so sorry. Please let me help you. Let me fix whatever it is I’ve done.”

Without opening his eyes, Andrew reached toward Colin to still him. His palm found the ridge of a collarbone, and he slid his hand until it closed over a shaking shoulder.

“Right.” Colin took a long inhalation, then let it out. “It’d probably help if I calmed down first.”

Andrew nodded, then pulled his arms tight to his chest, hoping the pressure would slow his racing heart.

After another breath, Colin’s tone was steady and smooth. “For starters, shall I help you get out of this?”

Andrew felt a tug on his leather harness as Colin unbuckled it. “No,” he choked out, clutching at the loose strap.

“Okay.” Colin paused. “Can I hold you?”

“Please.”

The air shifted as Colin moved away. Then came a pressure on the mattress, followed by an arm curling lightly around Andrew from behind.

“All right?” Colin whispered.

“Yes.” Andrew brought the harness’s strap to his nose. The scent of well-oiled leather reminded him of saddles and bridles. He could almost smell his pet pony Gretchen’s thick, dusty coat and the fresh hay of her stall.

Fingers caressed his scalp, then soft lips pressed his earlobe in a fleeting kiss.

“Do you want some water?” Colin asked.

Andrew’s throat was parched and his skin was coated with cold sweat. But he knew he’d only gag on any liquid. “Not yet.”

“Can you talk to me? Tell me what just happened.”

“In a minute.” Andrew opened his eyes and focused on a fixed point in front of him, where the dark green of the bedroom wall met the white of the molding, which needed dusting. Gradually the tornado in his head began to abate. “I just got scared.”

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