He’d left the door cracked to let the boy look at him, but once he looked in the mirror, the euphoria of being desired fled. Rage took over, and he’d slammed the door blocking Fielding’s view. He raised his hand to stroke his scarred cheek. He knew the texture by heart, the dips of ruined, twisted skin that no amount of plastic surgery would make disappear. Fielding was beautiful, and he was a monster, a perverted beast that wanted to soil the pretty man currently waiting in his bed.

The images of fucking that pretty, virginal body into his mattress caused his cock to harden and his balls to ache. Whatever hard-on he had disappeared as soon as he remembered the lick of flame over his body as his bed burned. The scarves around his wrists and ankles. His screams drowned out the laughter of his mother as she watched him burn. He’d begged. Promised her he’d be good until the agony took his voice.

He didn’t remember the rescue or the days and weeks which followed, time lost in a haze of painkillers or pain as they scrubbed his wounds. Infection after infection as his body rejected the skin grafts. Until the night his mother tried yet failed to murder him, he’d thought the bruises and burns were normal. The way a parent showed their love. His evilness needed to be exorcised from him. Punishment was caring.

Thirty years he’d lived as a freak, ostracized for being different. At eight, he’d prayed to the God his mother worshiped to let him die. He promised what was left of his soul to not awake. Instead, he’d learned to hate the body he lived in and when he’d had his first crush on a boy in his school—he knew he wasn’t normal. He’d never have what he wanted.

An hour ago, he’d come home to find his boy asleep on his couch wearing his clothes, and he’d wanted Fielding close. Just a moment to hold him, and when his boy awoke to nuzzle his scars, his dick went instantly hard. He’d never had a man look at him with desire, and it was a heady feeling. He needed someone who didn’t just want his dick, but him—no disgust over his ruined body and face.

Men always passed him over to go for his better-looking Crew members. They’d bend over for him in the dark, but never kiss or let him touch or want to touch him. He looked down at himself. He was powerfully built with thick, hard muscle from years of serving in the military and law enforcement. He needed to be in top shape. Yet that didn’t change his imperfections.

A soft knock drew his attention to the door as it opened and Fielding entered. He didn’t say a word as his boy approached and Fielding was his, no matter how much he’d fought it. Fielding’s cheeks turned pink as the smaller man slipped between him and the sink. He gripped Fielding’s waist and lifted him onto the counter.

“What are you doing in here? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, but then you need to go back to bed while I get ready.”

Soft, slender fingertips traced his scars, and he lowered his gaze to the top of the long blond hair. Fielding focused on his chest, traced the dips, and he dug his fingers into Fielding’s sides as his boy leaned forward to nuzzle through the hair on his chest.

“I think I should have one of the other guys take over as your security.” It killed him to say the words, but he wasn’t looking at Fielding as a job—just another client. He’d always acted like a professional, but he couldn’t do that with his boy.

Fielding jerked his head up, and he looked down into watery blue eyes. “Why? I’ve done everything you’ve told me to. I’ve been good, sir.” Fielding dropped his gaze back to his chest.

He’d thought he’d done away with that useless appendage called his heart decades ago. Always known as the coldest bastard, but during the takedown, he’d worried more about leaving Fielding alone then whether he had done his job or not. He was the best at his job because he’d never had anyone waiting at home—no one to cloud his judgment with sentimentalities.

“I don’t want anyone else to watch me.”

He took Fielding’s head in his hands and tipped his boy’s chin up with his thumbs. Tears beaded on pale lower lashes. He bent slightly to sip at the tears, and the saltiness of the drops burst on his tongue. He imagined kissing the tears from Fielding’s eyes while he was balls deep in his boy. His resolve to keep his distance weakened as he stepped forward to push between Fielding’s slim thighs. He groaned as his hard cock became trapped between their stomachs.

The softness of his boy turned him on, and he hadn’t realized until he’d met Fielding how much he’d craved someone soft and sweet—loving. Part of him had secretly yearned for it but denied it. It didn’t do any good to wish for things he couldn’t have.

“Don’t you want to keep me?” Fielding’s voice broke as he asked.

“Do you want to be mine until you go back to your real life?” He lowered his mouth to Fielding’s and kissed the down-turned corners. Fielding would go back to Los Angeles in a matter of months to the pretty exterior of his life. He had to remind himself and Fielding that some fairy tale happy ever after wasn’t meant for them. Permanence wasn’t meant for him no matter how much the beautiful boy in his arms made him wish.

Not breaking Fielding was impossible. He’d destroy a part of Fielding and send him home hoping the young man forgot about him.

“Yes, please.”

He was a bastard. “Do you know what it means to be mine?”

“I’ll be your boy.”

“And what will I be to you?” he asked as he stripped Fielding’s shirt off. His boy was perfect. Smooth and flawless except for one tiny ginger colored freckle next to the boy’s right nipple. He dropped the shirt on top of his own discarded clothes. “Boy, what will I be to you?” He repeated the question as he wrapped an arm around his boy and lifted him from the counter to work Fielding’s pants off.

If it were up to him, his boy would stay naked the rest of his stay. He was going to savor the blatant desire and need he sensed coming off his boy in waves. He dropped the pants and moved back between Fielding’s legs, forcing them farther apart with his thighs. He pushed his demons away. All the insecurity and rage he lived with every day. This was about taking something for himself—making memories to last long after his boy left.

“Say it, and I’ll give you what you need.” He spread his hands over Fielding’s back and stroked his boy’s soft skin. Counted the delicate vertebrae as he moved upward. He brought his left hand around and raised it to pinch Fielding’s chin. He kept his mouth close enough to Fielding’s to feel the gentle caress of his boy’s breath.

The beat of his heart was a painful rhythm in his chest as the seconds that passed felt like hours as he waited to hear his boy say what he needed him to. It was one simple word—a promise of his submission.

“Daddy, don’t make me go.”

Soft lips touched his tentatively. The inexperience evident but nothing had ever turned him on more. He hugged his boy tight to his chest. He wouldn’t mention the time that would run out.

“I want you to go back to bed while I take a shower. Tomorrow I’m going to take you somewhere, and we’ll talk. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“My good boy.”

He tenderly kissed Fielding then helped his boy off the counter. He waited for the boy to leave the bathroom and he gently closed the door with a calmness he didn’t feel. Fielding was beautiful. He looked in the mirror at his reflection and studied it for the first time in years. Nothing had changed since the last time. Is what he felt flattery at the thought of a young man wanting him or was it something else?

He’d wanted plenty of men in his life, even had a few for quick, meaningless fucks in the dark or bathrooms. This was different, he knew it in his gut and instinct had saved his ass too many times for him to doubt it. He wasn’t going to be able to let his boy go, but he knew he needed to. Keeping Fielding would be cruelty to his boy. He was a broken man who couldn’t live in a world like Fielding was used to and he didn’t want to. This cabin and his job were his life, but he wanted this one thing even if it would kill him to let his boy go when it was kinder than keeping him.