Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Still, knowing so much didn’t make sleeping in the same bed as one of the guys who now held his life in their hands any easier. The house was silent, and the lack of sound was starting to echo in his head, always bringing him back to the broad bed that felt too hot, and to the giant sleeping with his back to him.
Tank’s steady breathing provided Clover with his only consolation in this state of complete solitude. Tank would usually hold him close at night, his embrace offering Clover an illusion of care and safety that helped him rest. Until today, this man had been his rock, even if not the most gentle, but what else could one expect of a rock?
Tank had even tried to go with their usual routine as they’d first laid down, but though Clover was now sulking about the lack of closeness, he’d been the one to reject the spooning. He didn’t want to see any of the mercenaries, didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to be talked to, yet on the other hand he desperately craved all those things.
Unable to communicate his needs and feelings, he stewed in his own brain juices for hours in hope that maybe someone, someday would know what to do with him. Drake had never been much of a friend despite the sexual tension sizzling in the air whenever they were near one another, but now Clover had managed to hurt Boar, antagonize Pyro, and even reject Tank, all in one day.
He would be his own undoing.
No matter that his ass was on the line, one day soon, these men would have a meeting and decide he wasn’t worth their effort. He just knew it.
They would leave him on the side of the road with cash for a bus ticket, even if only to make themselves feel better, and within a day or two, he’d be captured again.
What did the person who requested him need him for?
Tank hummed, his side expanding on the bright background of the wall. Unlike the others, Tank had been ready to bury the hatchet earlier tonight, but even though he was the one still standing between Clover and potential death, Clover’s pride and anger made him blow a hole in the wall of Tank’s protection.
Clover had lied about being respectful to Boar, and they both knew it. Tank would never let it go, and the distance between them would continue growing until it became too wide to cross. Tank hadn’t even wanted to have sex with Clover once Pyro was done, so whatever power Clover’s body had over Tank was dwindling fast.
Who was Clover even kidding? He was albino, and an overall top notch twink, but his looks would be a novelty only for so long. Even if the mercenaries didn’t care about him beyond that, nobody wanted to deal with an obstructive person on a daily basis.
Too bad he already missed Tank’s heavy arm, the confidence that knew no bounds, the clear boundaries he offered. Clover knew his place in the world when he was around Tank. He gave Clover a stability no boyfriend ever had. Too bad Tank wasn’t a boyfriend.
There was no way to take back the things Clover had done earlier today, so he was stuck in bed, way past midnight, plagued by the guilt over the way he had treated Boar, angry about the hateful way Pyro had fucked him, ashamed of lying to Tank, who’d always been his ally, and constantly hearing the word ‘cumbucket’ thrown at him, when even at the worst of times, he’d never prostituted himself.
He wasn’t a hole to fuck. He had feelings. And he was scared.
Once he was sure Tank had fallen asleep, Clover let out a muffled sob, holding a hand over his face to keep it as quiet as possible. He was such a waste of space. No wonder Jerry had wanted to get rid of him.
A whiny little kid.
Not good enough of a thief.
Adequate only for fucking.
If Tank and the others hadn’t been so nice to him before, their anger and rejection would have been easier to swallow.
He held in another sob, but the need for warmth became a black hole in the middle of his chest, and he shifted on the bed until his face was buried between Tank’s shoulder blades. The skin there was damp from the heat but fragrant, and warm, and so soothing he wished he could die suffocating then and there.
But Tank moved with a low growl.
“I’m sorry,” Clover whispered but couldn’t force himself to pull away. His entire life would have been on a different course if he met a man like Tank early on. He wouldn’t have to constantly struggle like a stray cat, because someone would have taken care of him. Was it so wrong to fantasize about a world where he wasn’t forced to fight tooth and nail for every dollar, unable to trust anyone?