Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Kieran
I had no idea what time it was. I only knew my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
I wouldn’t have minded if all it wanted to do was replay me touching a guy’s dick for the first time, giving my first ever blow job, being naked with Stefan…
none of that would’ve been unwelcome. For God’s sake, I was lying in Stefan’s bed, the weight of his arm draped across me, his warmth surrounding me.
Surely that was enough to send me off to sleep with some very pleasant dreams.
Instead, what lingered in my head was that bar.
It hadn’t been what I’d expected and that confused the hell out of me.
“If you don’t stop thinking so loud, I may have to kill you,” Stefan murmured.
I stiffened, and a heartbeat later, his hand was on my belly, stroking gently, his lips pressed to my shoulder.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” I said in a low voice.
Stefan nuzzled into my neck, and I shivered. Under the sheets, something stirred, and I sent it a swift silent message to go back to sleep.
The last thing I wanted was for Stefan to reach lower. Then neither of us would get any sleep.
“Want to tell me what’s keeping you awake?”
I huffed. “No, because this isn’t the right time to be having that kind of conversation. Or any conversation if it comes to that. The birds aren’t even awake yet.”
He withdrew his arm, the mattress dipped, and a second later, warm light flooded the bedroom. I blinked.
Stefan propped himself up on one elbow, his hand on my arm. “If there’s something on your mind, then this is the perfect time to talk about it.” He kissed my shoulder again. “I wasn’t asleep either, and that’s entirely your fault.”
I twisted to stare at him. “Me? What did I do? I’ve just been lying here.”
That soft kiss was unexpected too.
“Mm-hm. Lying here—naked. And way too tempting.”
Then I felt it, the tap of something warm and hard against my arse cheek.
I caught my breath, and he chuckled. “And it is definitely not the right time for that. So why don’t I make us some hot chocolate, and then you can tell me what’s going on.”
I could go with that. “Yes, please.”
He threw back the sheets and I watched him walk naked into the kitchen. For a man in his fifties, Stefan was stunning. He was lean with good muscle tone, and as for that arse… Oh my God, it was a thing of beauty, firm and dusted with hair.
I’d seen twenty-something guys strutting around Canal Street who didn’t look half as good as he did.
When he returned a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs, I sat up against the pillows, and he joined me. I wrapped my hands around its warmth, inhaling the aroma.
Stefan took a sip, then got comfortable. “Okay. Where do we start?”
“The bar.” There was little point in hesitation.
He arched his eyebrows. “The dark room?”
I shook my head. “I’m talking about all the men in leather.”
Another sip, but he said nothing.
I took a deep breath. “I’ve seen stuff online, okay? Porn. Guys in leather, harnesses—looking an awful lot like most of the men in PK, if I’m honest—tying other men up, whipping them, guys cuffed to benches, with gags—”
He stopped my words with a finger to my lips. “What you’re describing sounds like BDSM practices. What you saw tonight was part of the leather community. And while there may be some overlap, the two things are not the same.”
I thought about what I’d seen—men standing around in conversation, enjoying each other’s company. That word community struck home.
I wanted to be clearer. I needed to be clearer.
“So what is it about leather?”
Stefan’s lips twitched. “That’s a big question.”
“I’m starting to realise that.” I drank a little. “But I don’t think I’m asking it the way people usually do.”
“No,” he said with a smile. “You’re not.” He cocked his head to one side. “Tell me what was in your mind at the bar.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh God, where do I start? It… It didn’t feel how I’d expected it to,” I told him. “I thought it was all about sex.”
“It isn’t. Although sex does take up a certain amount of time.” Then he smiled. “Okay, a lot of it.”
I smiled despite myself.
He settled back against the pillows. “To quote you, where do I start? How about… the leather community has always been where people end up when they don’t quite fit anywhere else.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The main assumption people make is that those who are part of that community are broken. But that’s not where it starts.
” He paused. “People feel broken because they’re told they don’t belong.
That they’re too old. Too young. Too big.
Too different. Not the right kind of gay man.
” My breathing hitched, and he looked me in the eye. “You understand that part, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“So they try other spaces,” Stefan went on. “Bars. Scenes. Communities that look like they should fit in there. And when they don’t—”
“They end up here,” I interjected.
“Yes,” he said. Then, more gently, “What’s more to the point is that they’re welcomed here.”
That word settled somewhere in my chest.
“Here, it’s different,” he continued. “Because no one is trying to be the same thing. There’s no single way to look, no single way to be.
” He took another sip of his drink. “Different bodies, different ages, different tastes, different inclinations. It’s understood that not everyone is going to want the same things—or the same people. ”
I thought back to the bar. “I noticed that,” I said quietly. “I think I was expecting something more… uniform.”
“People often do.” Stefan smiled. “They assume there’s a right way to do it. A right way to look, to dress.”
“There isn’t?”
He shook his head. “Not even close. Some men are very specific about what they like. Others aren’t. Some are drawn to certain body types, others to completely different things. Hair, no hair, build, scent—there’s no consensus.”
That made me smile. “And the leather itself?”
“That’s just as varied. There’s no single ‘uniform,’” he air-quoted. “No agreed standard. Some men are meticulous about it, whereas others throw something on that feels right in the moment.” He gave a shrug. “Personally, I like that.”
“How so?”
“It tells you something about who they are, or at least who they feel like being that night.” Another smile. “It’s one of the few spaces where that kind of variation isn’t just tolerated—it’s expected.”
I let that settle. It matched what I’d seen, more than I’d realised at the time.
“And they bring expectations with them,” Stefan went on. “That if they’re not attracted to someone, that’s the end of the interaction.”
I frowned. “Isn’t it?”
“Not at all. I might not be interested in a man sexually, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in him at all.” Another shrug. “If he’s not an idiot, I’ll have a drink with him. Talk. See who he is.”
That landed.
“Sometimes,” he added, “that’s where the better connections come from.”
I let out a slow breath. “That’s… not how it works back home.”
“No, it usually isn’t. Other spaces can be very efficient about deciding who is worth their time.” There was no bitterness in his remark, just observation.
“And here?” I asked.
Stefan glanced at me. “Here, people take a little more time before they decide you don’t belong.” Another pause and his voice softened. “And more often than not, they decide that you do.”
“And the kink?” I asked. “Is that part of it? Or separate?”
“It overlaps, but it’s not the same thing.”
I frowned again. “Explain that.”
He studied his hot chocolate. “Kink is an inclination—something someone is drawn to. BDSM is a structure—a way of organising kink, for people who want it.” He paused. “Not everyone who wears leather does all of it. Not even close.”
“Whenever I see BDSM porn, it always seems so… vigorous? Heavy?” They weren’t the words I was looking for, but they were the best fit.
He frowned slightly. “Wait a moment. There’s a quote I saved years ago, from an American porn star. Let me find it.” He put his mug down, grabbed his phone, and scrolled.
I drank slowly, turning what he’d said over in my mind.
At last he smiled. “Found it.” He read aloud, “The simplest explanation I have of BDSM is that it’s a highly enhanced intimacy.
To the unversed it can seem merely like one partner imposing his will on the other, but the truth is that it should involve one partner being able to take the other someplace connectively, physically, and sensually he wouldn’t be able to go normally or on his own, or if he were able to squirm away. ”
I grinned. “I like that last part.”
He set the phone aside and covered my hand with his. “There are a lot of practices,” he said. “But none of it is compulsory. That’s the point. You find what speaks to you. And you leave the rest.”
I let out a slow breath. “So when I see… all of that, it doesn’t mean everyone’s into everything.”
“Exactly.”
I paused. “And what about signalling? I saw a lot of different coloured hankies tonight. They were… codes?” I flushed. “Something I read once.”
Stefan stroked his beard. “Yes, that goes on. It can be useful.” His eyes twinkled.
“And sometimes it’s taken far too seriously.
I remember being in San Francisco one year, during Folsom.
A man was wearing a leather shirt with green piping, and a few very enthusiastic younger guys went up to him and asked, ‘What does the green mean, Daddy?’”
“And?”
“He looked at them and said, completely deadpan, ‘Green.’”
I laughed. “I like him already.”
“So did I. That porn star who I just quoted? That was him.”
I stared at him. “Did you and he…” When he merely grinned, I expelled a breath. “Wow.” I paused. “And what about you?”
He frowned. “What about me?”
“What does leather mean to you?”
Stefan didn’t answer right away, and I appreciated that.
“It’s part of who I am, not something separate, or something I put on for a weekend.
” He sighed. “It’s a way of being honest.” When I frowned, he continued, “Because it requires you to know what you want, and to say it, clearly, without hiding behind what you think you’re supposed to be.
” He chuckled. “Not everyone sees it that way. I once had an altercation with a woman outside Romeo. She ranted at me, telling me I was a deviant, that I was mentally ill.” He picked up his mug and drank some hot chocolate.
“Then suddenly there were four or five guys in leather standing with me. Not in a menacing way, you understand, but there for me. She decided to continue on her walk.”
“Leather… it’s important to you, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
I drew in a deep breath. “And if I don’t fully understand it yet?”
“That’s fine.”
I glanced at him. “Really?”
“Yes.”
After a moment, I said in a quiet voice, “I’m not afraid of it—just… new to it.”
Stefan laced his fingers through mine. “And that is a very good place to start.” He peered at me. “And not that I want to change the subject, but… no regrets about tonight?”
My face was warm. “None whatsoever.” I finished my hot chocolate and set my mug down.
“Then how about I curl up around you and we both try to get some sleep?”
I smiled. “That sounds perfect.”
Stefan switched off the light and moulded himself to my back, one arm under my neck, the other around me.
“This… this is different,” I murmured.
“How so? You and your wife didn’t sleep in separate beds, did you?”
“No, but…” I sighed into the darkness. “She couldn’t go to sleep with me cuddled around her. She said it was like sharing a bed with a giant teddy bear, and that my hair tickled her.”
Stefan chuckled. “Fortunately for you, sleeping with a bear is one of the things I happen to love.” That nuzzle to my neck sent goosebumps crawling over my skin. “Now close your eyes and stop thinking.”
I couldn’t resist. “Yes, Daddy.”
Seconds later, his warm breath ghosted my ear. “I love that word too.”
Stefan
Kieran settled against me more fully after that, his body gradually giving in to sleep, the earlier tension gone from him now.
I felt it happen, the slow shift, the way his breathing deepened, steadied.
I tightened my arm around him, not to wake him, but more to register the weight of him, his warmth.
The reality of him here, in my bed, in my arms.
For a while, I let myself focus on the physicality of it—the simple presence of another person, the quiet intimacy of shared space.
It would have been enough. It should have been enough, but my mind didn’t settle as easily.
It returned, inevitably, to the evening, to everything that had unfolded between us.
His careful, searching, honest questions mattered. He’d been willing to listen to me, and to consider my answers.
I’d met a lot of curious men before, drawn to something they didn’t yet understand, but curiosity alone was not enough. It either faded or recoiled.
Kieran felt… different.
I shifted again, careful not to disturb him, my hand resting more securely against him now.
Three days. It’s been three days if I count meeting him at the airport.
That, more than anything, should have been enough to keep this in perspective.
But it doesn’t feel like three days.
It felt… established, as if something had settled into place with a quiet certainty I hadn’t anticipated.
I exhaled slowly.
This was where experience should have intervened. I should’ve drawn a line, kept things contained, recognised this for what it was—
A moment. A finite connection.
He’ll leave.
Of course he would. He had a life elsewhere, a career. Things that didn’t include me, and I wasn’t na?ve enough to ignore that.
But lying there with him warm against me, his presence steady and real, I found I didn’t want to reduce it to something temporary. Not yet, not while there was still time. Not much time, if I were honest, but enough to see where this might go.
Enough to allow it to be what it was, without deciding what it had to become.
I moved my thumb against his arm, a small, absent gesture, and he stirred in his sleep, instinctively pressing back into me.
I closed my eyes, and for once, I didn’t try to get ahead of it.
I’ll let the moment stand, for as long as it’s given to me.
For now, that would have to be enough.