Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (22 page)

“Will it do?” Matt asked, somewhat redundantly, given the amount of money that Hooch had just paid. There had been much to think about, not least all those odd assumptions by that really odd owner.

Hooch shrugged, eyes back on the road. “Will have to. At least it’s secure.” He drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment. “I just don’t get it, though.”

“Get what?” Not as though Matt didn’t suspect. “The way they have all those rules and frills and fancy equipment?”

“No. I get that one. It’s for boring people who have to pretend they aren’t boring.” Hooch scrubbed a hand over his face. “The ownership thing. The collar.”

“It worries you?” Matt asked. It certainly worried him, with Robertson’s automatic assumption that Hooch was somehow his possession. “That was weird,” he agreed. “Do we give off freaky vibes?”

Hooch didn’t answer for a long time. When he eventually did, he kept looking ahead at the road. “You built the gym and the apartment, you chose how it looks. You organize our everyday life and you make me eat healthy stuff. You gave me an ultimatum to go seek a club, you sought the club for me, and I will be going there. I cannot imagine a life without you because those two months were unbearable. I left without argument when you told me to. I asked you to take me back. You tell me off when I behave like an antisocial bastard. You talk for me when I’m too much of that bastard to function in polite society.” Hooch finally glanced at Matt. “Anything else?”

A momentary stunned silence. “I think that just about covers it.” Matt replied, then paused to think. “I look after you,” he said, repeating what he’d said the night he’d taken Hooch back, “because I like it, and you need someone to look after you.” Letting it settle as the road passed under the tires. “That doesn’t mean all the freaky stuff he was saying.” Matt added, too quickly.

“Freaky stuff such as?” Hooch’s voice didn’t give away any of his thoughts or feelings.

“Like the ownership stuff, the slave stuff he was going on about,” Matt said. “The whole asking me if he could shake your hand, as though you were a pet or something.”

“Pet…” Hooch huffed a laugh. “Your pet Delta. Not that off the cuff, is it?”

Matt smiled, the first that day. “I guess.” That thought again, of Hooch wearing a collar and nothing else, flashed through his mind. “I wonder where he gets all that stuff,” he said, changing the subject.

“No way, Donahue, none of this.” Hooch flashed a grin at Matt. “No changing of the subject. You made me go to that club, you sit through this talk. Don’t like your own medicine, huh?”

Matt tried not to squirm. “Okay, fine, it freaked me out a bit—like that woman who didn’t say anything and never made eye contact and was wearing those heels. How he was treating her as if she didn’t exist. If that’s ownership, that makes me…” he couldn’t think of the word, “well, that just freaks me out.” He was using that word a lot today.

“Yeah, but I guess it’s that weird slave stuff they have going on.” Hooch felt more at ease now than he had all day. Somehow a few things were falling into place. “I’m not slave material, and you’re the first person to know that. I don’t obey well at all, outside of work, and even there I’ve always had a reputation.” Hooch indicated as he overtook another car, then slotted back into his lane. “One thing’s true, though, I don’t want anyone but you. When I was gone, those two months, I wasn’t even alive.”

“Neither was I, much.” Matt was looking out the window. “Wanting you back and yet knowing I couldn’t go through that again if you just took off. Feeling furious…and empty that I couldn’t give you what you needed. Terrified what you would do without me there.”

“Maybe we own each other.” Hooch surprised himself with that statement, and it showed on his face.

Matt looked at him in shock, and then in contemplation. “Shit,” he said after a long pause, “I think you’re right.” More silence. “Maybe it changes,” he hazarded, “and he jumped to the conclusion because I was the one who dragged you there.”

“Whatever.” Hooch shrugged, “fact is I’m going to wear your collar.” The word sounded weird in his mouth. “Any preferences?” he added, some part of him enjoyed seeing Matt squirm.

“Your choice. You’re going to be the one wearing it,” Matt retorted. Too quickly, hoping Hooch didn’t notice just how much that disturbingly turned him on. “Where on earth are we going to get one? Should have got one back there,” he meant Raleigh.

“No, it’s going to be yours, so you choose.” Hooch definitely did enjoy Matt’s discomfiture.

A sign caught Matt’s eye, thankfully relieving him of the need to answer straight away. “Stop here. I think we’ll find what we’re looking for right there, don’t you think?” He pointed to a large barnlike building in a row of superstores. ‘PetSmart’ read the gaudy sign.

“PetSmart?” Hooch asked, but turned off the highway and into the parking lot.

“Pet Delta,” Matt repeated Hooch’s earlier joking words, “and where else are we going to find one without having to sneak in some dodgy back alley somewhere or risk some interestingly raised eyebrows from the post office?”

Hooch laughed. “Yeah, good point.” He killed the engine and got out of the truck. “Does my neck look ‘Rottweiler’ to you?”

Matt snorted as he got out his side. “Thick enough, sure. Let’s get this over and done with.”

They were greeted inside by a young sales assistant. “Can I help you, Sirs?”

“Hi,” Matt stepped in before Hooch’s sense of humor could indulge itself, “looking for a collar for a dog. A big one.” He determinedly did not look at Hooch.

“What breed?” She smiled at both. Hooch remained silent, hands in his pockets, and with an unidentifiable smirk on his face.

“Rottweiler cross,” Matt said firmly. “Something sturdy, in black leather.” Luckily, he still refused to look at Hooch, because the growing smirk would have made him blush or crack.

“Of course,” the sales girl motioned for them to follow her to an aisle with dog collars. Every single type one could think of was displayed by increasing thickness and width. “Would you like to choose for yourselves or do you require help? Oh, and if you need a lead or a chain, they are behind you.” She smiled at them.

“We’ll be fine browsing, thanks.” Matt hoped he didn’t sound as choked as he felt.

“Just holler if you need any help.” She cheerfully replied. “I’ll be at the checkout.” She finally walked off, just in time for Hooch to make an all too amused sound.

Matt watched her go and serve another customer before he glared at Hooch. “Not a word.”

“Is that an order?” Hooch bared his teeth in a grin.

Matt just glared before selecting a collar off the display and glancing between it and Hooch’s neck. “This one?” he asked.

“Let’s see.” Hooch took the collar from Matt’s hands and without further ado, slipped it round his neck, to all intents and purposes about to buckle it closed.

The black leather looked disturbingly good against Hooch’s tanned skin and plain white t-shirt, and Matt had to swallow before answering. “Yeah, it’s the right size.” He all but snatched an identical one off the same display and marched off to the checkout.

Hooch looked at Matt’s quickly retreating back, then at the collar he had pulled back off his neck and grinned. Whatever wasp had stung Matt, he enjoyed the reaction. He put the collar back on the display and followed.

“Want me to pay?” Hooch asked.

Matt was already fumbling with his wallet. “No, I’ve got it.” Handing over the cash and answering the small talk about the non-existent dog. Which was apparently, according to him, very large, absolutely ferocious towards those who threatened the family, but a complete softie with those he knew. He didn’t glance at Hooch as he picked up the bag with the collar, refused a catalogue, and retreated to the parking lot.

When Hooch opened the truck doors for them, the grin was still firmly in place. “Ferocious, huh? Softie, huh?” He waited for Matt to climb into the truck before he followed. “I think I need to decompress from this crazy day of revelations when we get home.”

Matt had his eyes closed and seemed to be forcing himself back under control. “I’m glad you find this funny,” he said, half under his breath, and then realized that he was holding the collar in his hands. The thin plastic not much of a barrier, his finger tracing up and down its length.

“You don’t?” Hooch steered them back onto the highway. He remained silent for a moment, pondering. “No, you don’t. Something has you riled up. What is it?”

Matt still had his eyes closed. “It looked…” he swallowed, “really good. Trust me, I was about three seconds away from ripping your jeans off and fucking you in the aisle next to the kitty litter.”

“I didn’t expect that.” Hooch voice had immediately slipped a notch into huskiness, and the steering wheel got a little jerk. He glanced at Matt. “I’ll floor it home.”

By the time they arrived back in Fayetteville, Matt had regained some of his composure. Enough that he made it through the gym, managed to exchange greetings with a few of the regulars, before heading upstairs, the bag with the collar held in a white-knuckled grip.

Hooch followed shortly behind, nodding a greeting at Mandy and a couple of regulars who’d been persistent enough in greeting him to kick his manners into being and to greet them back. When he reached the apartment, he locked the door behind him. Matt was standing in the middle of the room, back towards him.

Hooch stopped, dropped the keys in the bowl beside the door, took off his jacket and hung it up without a word. Unlacing his boots, he toed out of them, then took one step forward while pulling the t-shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor. He had opened the belt buckle and was about to unbutton the black denims, when Matt finally turned round.

He still had the bag with the collar in his hand. “Stop.” A single word, voice shaking slightly, but Hooch stilled immediately. Fingers on the last button, he didn’t move a muscle. Matt stepped closer, until he was close enough for Hooch to see that his eyes were almost completely dilated, just a narrow ring of green around the pupil.

Hooch’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything. His dark gaze locked with Matt’s as he stood perfectly still.

“Are you sure about this?” Matt’s voice was slightly steadier now, but husky, as he took the collar out of the bag. Holding it with both hands, he never took his eyes off Hooch’s.

“Yes.”

Not a word, not even a nod, as Matt raised his hands with the collar and slipped it around Hooch’s neck. He adjusted the buckle so that it fitted smoothly, not affecting Hooch’s breathing but enough that it lay next to the skin.

Hooch swallowed visibly, the leather snug against his throat as he did. He’d never thought the symbol of the collar would affect like that, but it did, entirely unexpected.

Teeth at his neck, just nipping above the leather, as Matt’s hands covered his at the buttons of his jeans, pushing them down. Hooch let his head fall back, giving as much access to Matt’s teeth and the above and below the collar, as he could. His hands moved down, pushed the denims and briefs over his rapidly hardening cock, then stayed at his side, passive.

Matt’s hands moved over Hooch’s body, touch firm as they grabbed Hooch’s ass, pulling him closer. Continuing to bite around the collar, pressing harder as Hooch writhed under his hands, reveling in the sensation, the coiled power under his fingertips, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth…

“Oh shit!”

Matt pulled back as though burned, staring at Hooch, at the bloodied mark on the side of his neck, before undoing the collar and practically throwing it on the couch.

“Wait here, I’ll get the first aid kit.” Matt darted off to the bathroom for the small kit they kept at the apartment.

“Wait!” Hooch called after him, but when he tried to follow, he tripped over the forgotten trousers round his ankles, and landed on his ass with a curse. “Matt!”

Matt was back, first aid kit in hand. “Shit, shit, shit,” he cussed, kneeling down next to Hooch and dabbing at the small wound—only barely breaking the skin, but enough that it was bleeding. “Does that hurt? Oh crap. I think we’ll get away without putting a dressing on it but oh crapthat’sgoingtoshow.” He was dimly aware that he was starting to babble.

“Matt!” Hooch barked out the name like an order. Taking hold of Matt’s shoulders. “Look at me, Matt, and shut up for a second. It’s okay. It’s nothing. You hear me? It’s nothing.”

“You’re bleeding!” Matt was staring at Hooch’s neck. “I bit you! I didn’t even…I didn’t even…” his voice trailed off and he looked at Hooch in bewilderment. “I didn’t even realize I’d done it.”

“You call that bleeding? Don’t be ridiculous, hardly even a drop.” Hooch cupped Matt’s face and drew it closer. “You didn’t realize you were doing it because you found it hot, as much as I did. That’s not a problem.”

Bewilderment turned to distress. “That’ll show above your uniform,” Matt repeated. “I…I…” his shoulders slumped as he pulled out of Hooch’s grasp. “Well, that settles it. I’m really not cut out for this sort of thing.”

Hooch was about to protest and try talk sense into Matt, but the dejected look made him realize it would be pointless. “Come on, look at me.” Hooch moved so he knelt in front of Matt, ankles still restricted by his trousers. “Come on.”

Matt obeyed, eyes still full of distress and the bloodied tissue held uselessly in one hand. “I don’t get it,” he said at last. “I really don’t get it.”