Stay (Working Out The Kinks Book 1)

  Stay

  A Working Out The Kinks Novel

  By K.M.Neuhold

  Synopsis

  What happens to a couple when one of them discovers a new kink that he’s not sure his partner will be into?

  Dear Art,

  I’m sure you get messages like this all the time, but I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. I suppose I should start from the beginning… Three weeks ago, I saw puppy play for the first time, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Wait, no, that’s not really the beginning… Ten years ago, my best friend who I’d been in love with my entire life told me he loved me too.

  For ten years, I’ve been living in complete bliss with Lars, the man of my dreams. Don’t get me wrong, we have our fights and disagreements (mostly because I do irritating shit, and every once in a while, he reaches the end of his patience), but he is my other half in every way. I didn’t know I could love someone the way I love him.

  Then, the puppy thing happened. It’s not so different from when I realized I was gay; there was a moment where everything sort of clicked into place, and my whole body was like “Yes, that’s what we’ve been trying to figure out all this time.” At first, I thought maybe I should just let it go because it’s not the kind of thing I can imagine my partner being into. But last week I went into a kink shop and ended up walking out with a puppy hood. I stashed it in our guest bedroom closet and haven’t even had the courage to take it out and try it on again, let alone show it to Lars. I don’t know what to do. How do I bring this up to him? And what if he isn’t into it? I feel like I don’t recognize myself anymore, and I don’t know where to turn. Please help.

  Sincerely,

  One Lost Puppy

  Copyright

  Stay 2019 by K.M.Neuhold

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book and Cover design by K.M. Neuhold

  Cover Image by : (c) Damedeeso | Dreamstime.com

  Editing by: Editing By Rebecca

  For information contact: K.M.Neuhold

  Chapter 1

  Lars

  The bristles are askew. Not just askew, but askew in a different way than I last left them. That, paired with the fact that it was in a different slot in the cup than I always use, it doesn’t take Sherlock to figure out what happened.

  I glance up into the steam fogged mirror at the sound of the shower curtain being pushed out of the way, just in time to see Jonah step out. The sight of water droplets clinging to his skin, pinked from the heat of the shower, his cock hanging half hard against his thigh almost has me too distracted to remember to be annoyed. His red hair is dark with water and slicked back out of his face, his large body covered in ginger body hair I never get tired of.

  His gaze flicks over me with heat and interest, and after ten years together, I recognize that look well enough to know he’s considering bending me over the sink and starting our morning right.

  “You used my toothbrush,” I state with annoyance before he can follow through on his line of thought.

  His eyebrows scrunch together, and he tilts his head, giving the air of a confused dog.

  “No?”

  “Yes, you did. The bristles are all wonky, and it was in the front before and now it’s in the back of the cup.”

  “Okay, fine. I might have used it; I’m sorry.” He shrugs, reaching for a towel off the rack, clearly unconcerned about his oversight.

  “You’re not sorry.”

  He throws his hands up and lets out a frustrated groan.

  “Christ, you’re right. I’m not sorry. I don’t see why it matters. You shove your tongue in my ass; why can’t we share a toothbrush?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I agree. “And after I tongue your ass, I brush my damn teeth, with my toothbrush.”

  He snorts a laugh, coming up behind me and pressing his still damp body against my back. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he looks me in the eyes through the mirror.

  “It really bothers you that much?” he asks more seriously.

  “It really does.”

  “Then, I am sorry. I’ll try to do better. On my way home from work I’ll stop and get you a brand-new toothbrush, and I won’t use it again.”

  I turn my head and press a kiss to his stubble rough cheek.

  “I’m sorry. I’m crabby this morning,” I sigh. “We’re short staffed this week, and it’s been a nightmare.”

  “It’s okay. I love you even when you’re crabby,” he assures me, his lips trailing down my neck.

  “Love you too.”

  When he pulls away, I want to be annoyed by my now damp clothes but watching him walk away in nothing but a towel makes it impossible to feel anything but lucky to have such an incredible man in my life. Sometimes it’s hard to believe we’ve already been together ten years. Actually, that’s not really accurate, we’ve been partners, lovers, boyfriends…pick a label, it doesn’t matter to me what we’re called. But we’ve been together since birth. Our mothers are best friends, and we were born only two months apart. There are pictures of our moms with their pregnant bellies pressed together, big smiles on their faces. So yeah, we’re lifers. And, as much as I don’t dig labels, there is one I’ve been thinking more and more about lately…husband.

  “You want me to make you some toast or anything?” he calls, bringing another smile to my face.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  Yup, things with Jonah are completely perfect. Nothing could ever rock the solid foundation we’ve built.

  Jonah

  I slather butter and raspberry jam on two pieces of toast and set the plate at the table for Lars before glancing at the clock and feeling a familiar twinge of anxiety about running late. I’m not running late, to be clear, but what if there’s more traffic than usual this morning? What if I go out to leave and my car doesn’t start? What if…

  “You’re fine, I already checked traffic on my phone, and it’s lighter than usual this morning,” Lars says as soon as he steps into the kitchen and notices my pinched expression.

  “Thanks for checking that for me.” It eases my anxiety significantly but doesn’t erase it.

  “Sit with me for a few minutes before we have to leave?”

  I nod, pulling out the chair across from where I set his breakfast and sliding into it.

  “How much longer are you supposed to be short staffed?” I ask.

  “Today should be the last day. Three of my techs went to a continuing education conference in Florida this week, so I’ve had to make do with one tech and a couple of assistants. Normally, it would be doable, especially since Seb is the tech I was left with, but it seems like I’ve had one emergency after another all week— lacerations, emergency c-sections, radiographs for foreign body ingestions. Hopefully, today will be quieter. I’d kill for eight hours of routine physicals and vaccines.”

  “There must be something in the air this week because the ER has been busy too. Yesterday, I had a guy who cut off three fingers with a table saw.”

  Lars winces.

  “At least you’re not the surgeon; all you do is slap a Band-Aid on shit and hand out aspirin.” He ribs me with a wink.

  “At least my patients don’t lick their own asses,” I counter with a smile.

  The playful argument is a fam
iliar one, ever since I got into med school and Lars decided on veterinary school, we’ve had an ongoing rivalry about whose job is harder and more important.

  “Please, you know you’d lick your own ass if you could,” Lars points out.

  “True, but luckily I have to keep you around to handle that for me.”

  “Is it just me, or are we talking a lot about eating ass this morning?”

  “We definitely are,” I agree. “I guess it’s a sign our cuddle time tonight should be naked and preferably sticky.”

  “Pretty sure that’s fucking, not cuddling.”

  “Count me in,” I waggle my eyebrows, and Lars laughs.

  “At least I’ll have something to look forward to today when my day inevitably goes to shit.”

  “Good.” I crane my neck to check the time and then stand up with a sigh. Leaning over the table, I press a quick kiss to Lars’ lips. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Have a good day,” he calls as I walk out of the kitchen.

  “You too,” I shout back.

  Chapter 2

  Lars

  I’m not surprised when I walk into the clinic to find the technician, Seb, already behind on morning prep. It’s not his fault, but I feel a twinge of irritation all the same.

  “Next year, remind me to raise an objection to every damn tech going to the same conference. Surely half of them could have waited for a different CE this year.”

  Seb huffs in agreement.

  “You know they all just wanted to go to Florida.”

  “Good for them; I want a clinic that isn’t understaffed for a whole week,” I grumble.

  “Amen,” he agrees. “Sorry I’m behind, but I do have pre-meds drawn up you can sign off on quickly, and then we can get your first surgery cooking with her drugs while you knock out the vaccine appointments on the schedule first thing.”

  Seb’s efficiency in the face of being overwhelmed calms me a little and reminds me why I’ve always liked the guy.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I agree. “Pass me the surgical charts so I can double check the calculations and sign off on the dosages.”

  He pushes three clipboards in my direction, and I get to work while he finishes drawing up pre-meds and then hurries off to get the vaccines ready for my morning appointments.

  The morning is a little rocky, two of the three supposedly routine appointments presenting with a laundry list of concerns, setting my surgical schedule back by an hour. But by the time we get my first spay on the table, I relax a little. In my experience, there are two types of veterinarians: those who panic at the thought of surgery and those who love it. I fall into the latter category. So much so that I’ve considered going into surgical specialty. But with my obscene student loans, I’m not sure I can justify the pay cut I’d take while interning with a surgeon for a year and then spending three years as a resident.

  I equip my blade handle with a blade and take a quick glance at the heart monitor and pulse ox to make sure everything looks good so far before making my first incision.

  “So, how was your date? That was last night, right?” I ask.

  “Meh,” he shrugs. “He was cute and all, but we didn’t really click.”

  “Bummer,” I sympathize. “I can’t even tell you how many duds I went out with before I opened my eyes and realized what was right in front of my face.”

  “Gag,” Seb complains with humor in his voice. “The last thing I need is to have your perfect relationship rubbed in my face.”

  “You’ll find the right guy,” I assure him. “I guess what I’m saying is sometimes you need to pay attention because you may be missing the perfect person by looking so hard.”

  “That sounds really smart and all, but trust me, my best friend, Trevor, is so not my soulmate.”

  I chuckle as I tie off the right uterine horn and make my cut, watching for bleeding before releasing it and going for the left side.

  “You’re young; don’t worry too much about it.”

  “I’m almost thirty,” he grumbles. “But enough of my bitching. Are you and Jonah going to Pride next weekend? We should meet up there.”

  “Oh, uh, I don’t know. We’ve never gone.”

  “Shut the front door,” Seb gasps. “You’ve never been to Pride?”

  I shrug, making my final cut on the trunk of the uterus and removing it.

  “It’s not really our thing.”

  “Oh, come on, you have to go at least once,” he insists.

  “Maybe,” I concede. “I’m not even sure Jonah isn’t on the rotation next weekend. I’ll ask him and see.”

  “Yay,” Seb claps. “This is going to be so fun. I’m going in a pair of white shorts and angel wings, and I’m going to dye my hair rainbow. What are you going to wear?”

  I laugh again and shake my head as I work on closing my incision.

  “I’m not really the dress up type, and neither is Jonah. I can’t imagine him wearing any of those odd outfits.”

  “Boring,” he sighs. “But as long as you come, I won’t complain.”

  “That’s what he said,” I joke with a wink, and Seb keens with laughter.

  Jonah

  There’s a short lull in emergencies, and I lean against the nurse’s station, chatting and waiting for the inevitable floodgates to open again and fuck my day right up.

  I know most doctors aren’t known for great relations with the nursing staff, but I started as a certified nursing assistant during undergrad, and I know exactly how hard they all work and how much they save doctors’ asses on a daily basis.

  On my first day at Mercy Emergency, I brought cookies for the nurses to make sure I was starting off on the right foot, and it turned out to be the best decision I ever made. I can’t count the number of times they’ve helped me out of jams or gone above and beyond for me. Not to mention, a few of them have become good friends, hanging out on our days off, inviting each other to dinner parties, gossiping about our partners, the whole nine yards.

  Addie, my very best friend of them all, tries to stifle a laugh as she looks at something on her phone.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  “My brother,” she answers, giggling again. “He runs this gay sex advice blog, and I swear he has to be the snarkiest, most sarcastic person alive. Someone wrote in complaining about his boyfriend’s dick being too big to go down on, and my brother said he needed to thank the cock gods for bestowing such a gift on him and up his game. Then he goes on with a whole list of tips on giving head, including throat numbing spray or practicing on a banana to learn how to deepthroat.”

  My eyes go wide, and I glance around discreetly to make sure no one is listening in on this.

  “That sounds…interesting.” It never hurts to learn new tips or tricks when it comes to sex, but is there a way to ask for the name of the blog without it being awkward?

  “Stop squirming, I’m sending you the link,” she assures me.

  I chuckle with relief, and my phone vibrates in my pocket with her text. I pull it out and click on the link that takes me to a blog called The (W)hole Truth.

  “With a title like that, I can’t imagine this blog will disappoint.”

  “Right? Art’s hilarious,” Addie agrees. “He’s only twenty, still in college, and I was honestly worried he was going to be a sarcastic little burnout shithead his whole life, until I stumbled on his blog and realized he’s going to be just fine.”

  I scroll through a few of the articles and advice columns, just skimming past them. He seems to cover a bit of everything from general sex and relationship advice, to kinks, to coming out and life in the queer lane, as he calls it.

  “Does he make money doing this or is it a hobby?” I ask out of curiosity. It looks professional; I would’ve never guessed it was run by a college student.

  “Oh yeah, he gets paid for the ads along the sides,” she explains, and my eyes dart to the closest ad, featuring Fleshlights. “And he offers special features to people who don
ate monthly to him.”

  “Wow, this is impressive.”

  “I know, you’d never guess he spends his days surrounded by a cloud of marijuana smoke,” she jokes lovingly.

  My eyes linger on a post entitled Discover Your Kinks— Leave Vanilla Sex Behind and Find Out What Really Revs Your Engine. There’s a strange fluttering in the pit of my stomach as I hover over the link, trying to decide if I should click it or not. Lars and I have a great, if somewhat predictable, sex life. Kink has never been something we’ve discussed, nor has it been something I’ve ever thought about. So why is the post title so intriguing?

  Before I can decide whether or not to click on it and read the full post, a possible concussion patient is admitted, and I have to put my phone away and get back to work. But for some reason, the article niggles at the back of my mind for the rest of the day.

  Chapter 3

  Lars

  I’m greeted by the sound of music playing from the kitchen as I step into the house. I kick off my shoes and head in that direction, stopping in the doorway to watch Jonah wiggle his large body to the beat of the Kesha song currently blaring from our Alexa as he washes the dishes in the sink from last night. I smile as he sings off key about love being a drug, my heart warm and fluttery at the sight. I can’t figure out how I got so lucky, but I honestly pity everyone else in the world because they won’t have the pleasure of loving this silly, wonderful man the way I do.

  He spins around and smiles widely when he spots me leaning against the doorframe. Some people might get embarrassed and stop the impromptu show, but not Jonah. No, he sings louder and dances even more dramatically until I’m nearly doubled over with laughter.

  When the song ends, and I get my laughter under control, he pulls me into his arms and bends his head down to kiss me. I wrap my arms around his neck, melting against his broad frame and savoring the familiar taste of his lips and tongue. His stubble scratches at my face, but I don’t mind. Our tongues tangle in an unhurried way, the warm comfort of our embrace more than enough to wash away all the stress of the week.