cXC
Two days of trying to summon the courage to go to the BDSM club he’d found online, and still he battled his guilt.
Mark stared at his reflection in the mirror.
The white button-down shirt, blue jeans, and loafers were not appropriate scene attire, but they’d have to do.
He needed someone to bring him past the pain threshold to unimaginable pleasure.
The guilt that came with his need to allow a stranger to give him what he’d reserved only for Zeke made his belly ache, but he needed this.
He wouldn’t survive much longer without it.
He hadn’t connected with his wolf since the nightmare two days ago, and worry overtook guilt in the whirlwind of emotions he suppressed.
He ran a hand through his hair, thankful the strands behaved today, and the memory of Caster’s touch invaded his mind.
He shook his head to dislodge it and grabbed his phone and keys.
The taxi waited for him at the main gate. The vampire guarding it didn’t say anything as he unlocked it and let him through. Mark let out a breath once in the cab’s relative safety, thanking the Goddess again that he’d avoided Caster.
He ignored the cab driver’s attempts at a conversation by pretending to read something on his phone. He’d done his research and wasn’t about to put himself in an unsafe situation. It was a Monday, so he didn’t expect the place to be busy, but he didn’t want to spend too long at the club.
His heart raced as the cab stopped at the club’s front entrance. The neon light glaring at him just said, “The Grunge.” He stepped into the night’s cold air, fighting every instinct to return to the safety of Caster’s mansion, but he forced his feet to move.
The unassuming main entrance morphed into quiet luxury the further down the main hall he went.
Red. The lights turned the club’s main section a deep red.
If he were human, he wouldn’t see the ten or so patrons present.
His retreating wolf senses meant he had to strain to see them, but he still saw every one of them, and none drew his attention.
He walked through the rows of couches lining the main section. Closed doors led to what he assumed were closed quarters for those who preferred their pleasure in private. Perhaps it was because it was Monday, but no one seemed too eager to engage in play.
Maybe this had been a mistake. Still, his overwhelming need to reconnect with this vital part of himself kept him from running for the exit.
The bartender smiled his greeting as Mark approached the bar. “What can I get you?”
A little alcohol wouldn’t affect him as it did humans, but he needed to occupy his hands with something. “Your best whiskey.”
The bartender’s warm smile remained as he poured the drink and placed it in front of him. Mark’s eyes gravitated toward the collar on the human’s neck.
The bartender reached for the simple black band that held a lot of meaning for both of them and nodded at the similar black band adorning Mark’s neck. “Are you here alone?”
Mark took a sip, the whiskey’s burn cascading past his throat, a momentary distraction from the roiling butterflies in his belly. “Yes. I was hoping…”
The bartender nodded and held out his hand. “I’m Chris.”
Mark accepted the handshake. “Mark.”
“If you stay a while longer, I know a Dom who would love you.” He glanced at his watch. “He comes in every Monday and Wednesday. Says he doesn’t like the weekend crowds.” He chuckled. “Here, I am assuming you want a male?”
Mark nodded. “You’re right.” Was it too much to ask if whoever he found was not human? In this part of the world, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a werewolf, though he doubted he’d be that lucky.
“Oh, good. You’ll like this one. He’s a bit intense for my liking, but I’m sensing you like intense.”
Chris had no idea how right he was. Mark took another sip of his drink and drowned out his new friend, who continued to chat on about the club.
He hated every second of this, as he had the last time he’d tried it.
Revulsion roiled around in his gut, mixing with the nerves, guilt, and fear already there. This had been a mistake.
A sharp gasp from Chris tore him from his desire to run. “…he’s here…” The reverence in his voice compelled Mark to turn.
His questions and all his confused feelings dissolved in an exhale, draining all the energy from his body. Caster. He was here, talking to one of the other patrons, and even in the club’s red-inspired darkness, he’d recognize that body, its presence anywhere.
The moment Caster became aware of him shattered the last of his resolve. He was pinned to the spot, unable to move as he watched the one person he didn’t want to see walk towards him, the familiar smirk becoming more pronounced the closer he came to the well-lit bar.
“You know him?”
Chris’s question broke Caster’s hold on his tongue, but when he opened his mouth to answer, Caster shook his head, the subtle command wiring his jaw shut.
He tried to take a deep breath, only to choke on the exhale as Caster closed the distance between them in a single stride.
He was within touching distance, and Mark’s fingers ached with the need to reach for him.
Caster’s scent overwhelmed his senses, and for the first time since his nightmare, Mark felt his wolf’s presence.
It was a subtle scratch at the barrier keeping him at bay, but he couldn’t have missed it if he’d tried.
Caster smiled. What are you doing here?
Mark heard his question, and although he was certain an answer was required, he chose to focus on breathing to avoid passing out.
Caster looked past him at Chris. “Good evening, Christopher. Do you mind giving us a moment?”
Whatever the bartender said was lost to him as all his senses focused on the man he’d prayed he wouldn’t run into any time soon.
He wore a suit, of all things. One that accentuated everything that made him spectacular.
Mark fought against the urge to feel all the muscles it contained.
He’d felt Caster’s body against him just before the monster had attacked them, and he only now realized how much he wanted to feel its magnificence restraining him again.
“I remember telling you that I hate repeating myself.”
Perhaps it was his tone, but Mark’s next intake of breath was a gasp. He looked at Caster’s face for one second and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Caster turned to the left in the direction of one of those doors Mark had seen earlier. “Come with me.”
His feet moved of their own accord, and deep in the recesses of his soul, he recognized his guilt. But he couldn’t have ignored Caster if he’d used every ounce of his willpower.
Past that door, the room was lighter. It was also cozier with a large bed and two accent chairs on either side.
Caster pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
Careful to avoid touching him, Mark walked past Caster to do as he was told. The chair took all the tension away from his legs and into his belly. Whatever would happen in this room would probably kill him, so why was he impatient for it to begin?
Disappointment overwhelmed him when Caster moved away to lean against the closed door.
A moment went by, two, and nothing, no orders came, just the rough sound of his own breaths as he struggled to hold on to each inhale.
Caster sighed. “Mark, breathe.”
He closed his eyes, a headache forming as he gave up control. The resounding exhale washed away some of his apprehension.
“Again.”
This time, the exhale was a moan he couldn’t contain.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
The whispered words had him opening his eyes to find a look on Caster’s face he couldn’t decipher. It was a far cry from the pity he’d come to expect from everyone he knew. It was almost as if Caster could see past his pain, into the core of his being.
Mark tried to lower his gaze to escape the real possibility he may have lost the battle to resist, but a subtle shake of Caster’s head stopped him.
“Are you sure?” He held up his hand when Mark started to nod. “Be sure. I don’t like to stop, and I don’t like questions.”
It took two tries to find his voice. “I’m sure.” There was no other choice. He was powerless to resist or restrain his wolf, who was now more awake than he’d been in a long time.
This time, when he broke eye contact, Caster didn’t stop him.
“This is the only time I will repeat myself today. What are you doing here?”
Mark stared at the blue carpet’s edge as it disappeared under the bed. “I… I just…”
“Come here.”
He was on his feet before the last word was out of Caster’s mouth.
Caster reached for his neck, pushing away his shirt’s collar to access the black band he’d worn as an afterthought. “What is this?”
He opened his mouth to explain, but he stumbled on his words when Caster hooked his finger under the collar, the action tightening its grip on his neck. “I… wanted to…”
“You can’t find your words? Your next sentence had better be complete.”
Mark closed his eyes, the moan leaving his lips too mortifying. “I’m sorry. It’s so hard…”
Caster’s hand moved to the back of his neck, drawing him closer with such force Mark’s whole body moved forward and pressed against Caster’s unyielding hardness. “What is so hard?”
“I can’t think when you’re here.”
The deep breath he’d taken as he prepared to answer Caster’s earlier question was ripped from him when Caster’s lips crashed into his with a ferocity he was unprepared for.
Mark surrendered to the way Caster’s tongue owned his mouth, his hands finding Caster’s shoulders for support.
He couldn’t remember ever being this aroused as he gave away all his power, all his control.