He sat on the back of a well-muscled submissive, and Ollie remembered what Dan had said. Choosing a shady spot, Ollie went down on his hands and knees to give Travis a seat. He considered writing in the dirt—a quick help or his name, maybe. How big of a hint would Travis need to recognize him? Because Ollie was almost sure the man didn’t. Ollie wished he could see Milan’s reaction, but the neck brace kept his face toward the ground. “You are still impatient,” Milan said. “I’m not here asking you to train me out of my bad habits. You’re playing a game here, and it’s going to get you killed.” “By them? I doubt that.” “Don’t!” Travis snapped. Ollie took a quick breath. He had trouble imagining anyone yelling at Milan, but Travis clearly didn’t mind. For a time there was silence, and Ollie could only hear the heavy breathing of the other submissive and the rustling of leaves above them. Even the river was running slow and silent. Eventually Milan spoke in that quiet, sure tone of his.
