Free The Deeper He Hurts by Lynda Aicher

around Sawyer, one hand splayed over his heart. The solid beat was decelerating, but it still pounded out the confirmation of what they’d just shared.
    Sawyer scraped his palms around the sides of the tree until his hands rested before his face. He lowered his forehead onto them, his sigh escaping in a deep swoosh.
    “Thank you.”
    The soft words held a gratitude that spoke of honesty. Ash stroked his abdomen, a soothing glide after the intensity. He kissed Sawyer’s shoulder, his lips grazing over the ridges of his teeth marks. Would it bruise?
    He found the fresh welts on Sawyer’s thigh, each thin stripe settling into him in a satisfying hum as he touched them. They’d burn tomorrow.
    One last inhale, the sweet scent overtaking the bitter, a husky musk overpowering both. He held it in, logged it, then finally stepped back, one hand steadying on Sawyer’s hip.
    “Are you okay to stand?”
    “Yes.”
    Ash gave him room and backed off when he had the uncomfortable desire to hold him again. But Sawyer didn’t seem to want to be cuddled or coddled and he respected that. The scene was done, and pushing his boundaries now would be rude and assholeish.
    He stayed close though, watching for fatigue and unabashedly admiring the vision Sawyer presented. Strong buttocks and thighs supported by sculpted calves. Even in the dark it was easy to see his strength.
    There was no visible sign of blood on the thigh he’d abused, which was good. He hadn’t intended to strike that deeply and blood play required a level of sterilization the woods clearly lacked. Most likely, Sawyer would have some nice bruises tomorrow and a lot of tender spots.
    The chill of the night finally penetrated his senses and he shivered, the perspiration cooling quickly on his nape. Sawyer would feel it soon, get chilled. Ash searched for Sawyer’s clothes, collecting his discarded shirt. His shorts were still corralled around an ankle, his sandal a bounce from Ash’s jacket.
    Sawyer finally turned, head bowed, shoulders rising with each slow breath. His hair hung around his face in tangles that Ash wanted to brush away. He didn’t though, instead handing over his shirt.
    Sawyer dressed in silence, low grunts sounding as he hitched his shorts up and slipped his sandal on. His first step was more of a lurch.
    “Shit.” He listed to the side and Ash was there, a hand on his arm to hold him steady. He shook his head, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to feel this tomorrow.”
    Pride burned through Ash’s chest. He’d done that to him. “Good.”
    They shared a smile of understanding, his face close enough to discern the subtle softness. Relaxed now and open. Maybe too drained to hide anything. The glimpse of honesty took Ash’s breath away.
    “I hope this doesn’t affect my employment.”
    A single beat laugh jerked out of Ash. “Can you do your job tomorrow?”
    Sawyer scowled. “Of course.”
    “Then you have nothing to worry about.” Ash squeezed his arm when the urge to kiss away his concerns reared its strange head. “Are you steady now?” Keep it light. Focus on his role and not on his desires.
    Sawyer tested his weight on his abused leg, wincing. Even that little show of pain sparked a flood of pleasure through Ash.
    He cleared his throat and nodded down the trail. “I’ll walk you back.” Then he’d finally head home. He’d lingered here all day when there was a mountain of work waiting for him at the office. “Do you need any meds to help with the pain?”
    His laugh was layered with disbelief. “Are you serious?”
    That low rumble of amusement was nice too. He glanced at Sawyer, relieved his smile was still there, the tension far away. “It’s my job to ask.” He took aftercare seriously.
    Sawyer shook his head. “I’m good.” His gate was hitched, but each step became smoother as they walked. “The whole point of the last hour was to feel the pain. Why would I want to make it go away?”
    A