Page 13 of The Barn: Frost and Q
“And what if what I want is a divorce?” he asked quietly.
Frost deflated right in front of his eyes, the tired lines on his face thrown into stark relief. “Is that what you really want?”
“It would be easier.”
“But is that what you want?” Frost had gone all stony now, his expression morphing so fast.
“No.” The word popped out without his permission. But it was still true. “No, that’s not what I want.”
Frost relaxed, not smiling, but pulling him in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Thank God.”
“I wish we could go back to where we started.”
They’d been poor and living in a little one-bedroom apartment. Quentin had been in school when he’d met Frost, who’d been the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He’d been beautiful, strong, masculine. He’d just taken Q and turned him inside out about fifteen years ago.
And now, there was money that he’d never asked for, and that they’d never worked for. There was this huge complex. There was this goddamn pool. And he didn’t want any of it.
He wanted that one-bedroom apartment and its silly bed that creaked every time they made love. Just that.
“You and I both know that that’s not going to ever happen. We can’t go back. I could give all the money away. We could walk away from this place. We could run for years, but the simple fact is that some asshole still kidnapped you because they were pissed, and you still have a bullet in your brain.” Frost shook his head. “I’d take it all back in a second, but I can’t. I can’t fix this, baby boy. I’m sorry.”
And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Frost couldn’t fix it. And the Dom in him needed to fix the situation. For the first time, he honestly understood, and he thought Frost did too. He couldn’t give Frost what he needed, but that was his job as a sub, as a husband, as a lover, as a friend. And he couldn’t.
“So how much longer until I get to get in the hot tub?”
Frost smiled at him. “Let’s see if we can swim from one end of the pool to the other. That’s where we are anyway, so just go overto this wall and then back to the other wall, and we’ll be good to go.”
“Fair enough. I want to bubble.” He was gonna suck this up. He didn’t know how, and he knew it was gonna hurt no matter what, but that was the way life worked.
Sometimes, it had to hurt.
Five
“Idon’t know what to do, Carson.” Frost laid a jack and, of course, Carson laid a five.
“Fifteen for two.”
“Asshole.”
“You’re playing stupid. Now, what do you mean?”
He played a seven. “Twenty-two. About Q.”
“Uh-huh.” Carson raised a raven black eyebrow. “What do you want?”
“To be his lover. His husband.” Frost sighed. “His Dom.”
Carson raised one eyebrow.
Again.
Possibly higher.
It was vaguely Spockian.
Then he laid a nine. “Thirty-one for two. So do it.”
“Well, it’s not that easy.”
