Chapter Two
Terry peered into the trunk of his dark-blue Audi as he rummaged through the various nylon bags and cases, coffee travel mugs that he kept forgetting to bring inside the house, and the random sweaters or other lost articles of clothing that had somehow never made it back inside the house either. Sure hope Phil never sees this.
His Master would likely make him kneel in the corner for an entire day if he saw the nightmare that was his trunk.
Spanking was off the table. He was so turned on by the spankings that they’d been quickly removed from the punishments list. They were still working on that aspect as well as pretty much everything else.
Since Terry was Phil’s first real sub, anyone he’d dommed in Toronto had been for play, not a full-time D/s situation.
Domestic discipline was even more outside of Phil’s realm, but that was part of what they’d begun discussing. Along with everything else.
It was a work in progress.
Terry snatched up a lens case, praying it was the one he was searching for.
He unzipped the cylindrical shaped top then peered inside.
Nope. He straightened, sighing as he rubbed the muscles in his lower back.
All that bending over had gotten to him.
Terry snorted out loud. That’s for sure.
However, bending over to search for something he needed to do his job properly in a mess he’d created wasn’t quite the same as bending over for Phil.
He considered the jumbled contents of his trunk. Was he being dishonest by hiding it? It wasn’t really any of Phil’s business what he did with his own things, it had nothing to do with him personally. It wasn’t as if Terry’s things were cluttering their house or were in Phil’s car.
Then why does my stomach feel funny, like I’m doing something wrong?
Communication. Trust. Honesty. Respect. Love.
Every aspect of what they were attempting to do as Master and sub came down to those principles.
He could be lazy, could slough it off as no big deal, but then the D/s became a game that didn’t stand for anything.
They’d go back to being the couple they were when Terry had no idea what to expect from Phil, didn’t know where he stood in his partner’s world or whether Phil was telling him the truth or not.
He couldn’t insist that Phil be completely open about everything if he didn’t do the same.
If they’d decided to confine their BDSM activities to the bedroom or at a club, that would be one thing.
But they hadn’t. Terry had agreed to go all in.
In for a penny…
Terry mentally chastised himself for not having the lens he really wanted to use with him as he slammed the trunk closed. Yeah. He’d confess.
He gasped at the sight of Anson standing next to his car. “Jesus.” He put a hand to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
As much as he couldn’t stand the mealy-mouthed worm, Anson had somehow managed to book a small supporting role on the new cable series Terry was doing the production and cast stills for.
Terry tolerated his presence, and Anson seemed to have decided it was wise to stay out of Terry’s way.
He couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the asswipe of a Master he’d spotted Anson with at Gerard’s place.
Anson merely stared at him and discomfort filled Terry.
He glanced around the lot. He was parked near one of the empty soundstages.
He’d been so tired from the night before that he’d been a bit slow getting a move on, so he’d ended up being a little late and having to park farther away. More things to confess to Phil later.
“Uh…” Terry frowned in confusion. Anson kept staring at him with an unreadable expression.
At last, Anson spoke. “I need a favor from you.” He radiated an odd, almost terrified demeanor.
Terry rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. Anson knew damn well that Terry couldn’t stand him, and after Terry had rebuffed Anson’s advances at their last private photo session, Anson hadn’t seemed too thrilled with him either.
“I’ll pay you.” Anson took a step forward and Terry instinctively took a step back, closer to the wall of the soundstage.
“You want to hire me for another private session?”
Anson shook his head as he continued to advance on Terry. “No, nothing like that. It’d only be for the one night, I swear.”
Terry’s back hit the wall of the tan-colored, blasé building. It was enormous and identical to every other one at the studio. Only the huge, six-foot tall numbers painted in black on the side of each one indicated which was which.
“Night? What does that mean?” Terry’s words came out a bit breathless.
“Master Joe wants you.”
Terry barked out a laugh, his trepidation over Anson’s bizarre behavior momentarily forgotten at the ridiculousness of Anson’s request. “Not in this or any other lifetime.”
Anson was near enough that Terry could detect the smell of his sweat mixed in with some unknown brand of overpoweringly sweet men’s cologne. Nausea threatened.
“Please. He’ll hurt me if you don’t. I’m getting ten grand an episode. You can have half, even before my agent and manager get their cuts.”
Terry’s stomach clenched as he observed moisture trailing down the side of Anson’s face, his eyes wide with the look of a frightened animal.
“Jesus, Anson. What do you mean he’ll hurt you?”
“Come on, you understand.” He crossed his arms. “You get it.”
“No, Anson. I don’t. And if he’s abusing you, then you need to get help.” Terry cried out as Anson grabbed his upper arms, gripping them harshly.
“No. Don’t you fucking tell anyone. He’ll kill me.” More sweat had beaded on Anson’s upper lip, his face flushed scarlet. His fingers dug deeper into Terry’s flesh. “I’ll make your life a living hell if you say anything.”
“Fuck, let go! You’re hurting me.” Terry searched the back lot, hoping that someone, anyone, might see them. He wasn’t quite ready to start screaming like a damsel in distress. But I will if I have to. Anson had gone fifty shades of crazy.
“I don’t want to hurt you Terry, I really don’t. You know I’ve always had a hard-on for you. But this is my life we’re talking about, and I assumed you’d understand since you’re a slave too.”
“What? That’s what you thought?”
Confusion passed over Anson’s features. “You’re not that producer guy’s slave?
One of my Master’s friends who didn’t get thrown out the other night saw him manhandling you pretty good after we left.
Said he was tricked out in bondage gear, and when he snuck downstairs, he could hear him really showing you who’s boss.
” An unnerving leer settled Anson’s face. “Man, I’m sorry I missed that.”
Anson pressed against him, his erection obvious against Terry’s hip as Terry struggled to get away.
“Get the fuck offa me you piece of shit!”
Anson held him fast, using his body weight to keep Terry trapped, restraining him with a punishing grip. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Anson tried to kiss him as Terry whipped his head back and forth. “I’ll be there too. He’ll wanna watch us first before he takes you, that’s how it always works.”
Always? Oh hell no. Damsel in distress time.
Terry yelled for all he was worth.
“Stop it!” Anson tried to cover Terry’s mouth right as he was revving up for another eardrum-bashing scream. Terry bit him and Anson screamed instead. “You’ll regret this.” Anson growled in his ear before shoving Terry to the ground then racing off.
Fuck.
The sleeve of his shirt was ripped at the elbow from where he’d skidded across the asphalt, a stinging pain from his arm causing him to carefully push himself up from the ground.
Terry glanced down. Great. A streak of dirt from the black asphalt marred his beige khakis right below the knee, and the rest of his pants didn’t look so great either.
He brushed them off the best he could, hissing from the forgotten injury to his elbow.
He twisted his arm to see, and sure enough, he’d scraped it pretty good.
Dammit, I’ll have to go wash this off right away.
He was due back on the set very soon, and along with everything else, he didn’t have the lens he’d wanted to use.
All of a sudden, his legs seemed wobbly, almost as though he might go down again.
Terry lurched toward his vehicle, hitting the key fob just in time to pull the door open, then collapse on the passenger-side front seat.
Nausea came back, but it wasn’t from Anson’s cologne.
I don’t have time for this bullshit.
He let his head drop between his knees as he took slow, deep breaths.
Finally, he felt he could straighten without hurling everywhere and the shaking seemed to have subsided.
Adrenaline crash. His emotions rose to the surface, tears building behind his eyes.
Jesus, stop it already, Terry. He had to pull himself together.
His phone vibrated in his khakis and he fished it out. Of course. He sniffed, then took another deep breath before answering.
“Hey, Sir.”
“Hey, baby. Did I miss your break?”
Phil’s voice made him want to cry with joy. Even hearing him over the phone filled Terry with comfort.
“Almost, but not completely.” He attempted a light-hearted laugh, but it came out more unsteady and breathless then he would’ve preferred.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Phil’s tone wasn’t angry or demanding, only filled with worry.
“I fell.” It was mostly true. And anyway, there wasn’t the slightest chance he could hide from Phil what was rapidly becoming a painful injury. I hope I didn’t fracture it or something stupid like that.
“Oh no, are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you?”
Damn. “No, my God, it’s not that bad. But I did bang up my elbow pretty good.”
“I’m coming over there.”