Chapter 28 - Warren
WARREN
Warren was surprisingly into this. Harland loomed behind him, huge and decked out in head-to-toe leather, and with his helmet on, Warren had no idea what the man was thinking or feeling.
It felt like he was being led around the store by some robotic leather-clad muscle-drone.
When Harland stepped away, no longer caging Warren’s body up against the cart, Warren breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he saw what Harland was looking at.
That was a collar. It looked delicate in contrast with the size of Harland’s leather-clad fingers, but then Harland unbuckled it and wrapped it around his throat, and all of a sudden it felt incredibly severe.
Warren swallowed. Three inches wide, the leather padded and incredibly soft, it was unlike anything Warren had ever had on his body.
Harland removed it from Warren’s throat and dropped it into the cart. Warren licked his lips, his cock feeling like it was going to poke a hole in his jeans, he was so turned on.
Then Harland just kept adding things. More collars, padded cuffs, a hood that Warren felt dizzy just looking at, a muzzle – it just kept going.
Warren watched as Harland picked a straitjacket off the rack, holding it up against Warren’s chest like he was seeing if it would fit.
Feeling warm, Warren shrugged off his parka and sweater and put them in the cart.
The leather of the straitjacket gleamed under the soft store lights, and it looked so soft and pretty that Warren couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to wear it.
He didn’t have to wonder long. Harland took the straitjacket off the hanger and pulled one of the sleeves up over Warren’s arm, getting up to his shoulder before Warren even registered what was happening.
Harland grabbed his other arm and pushed it into the other sleeve, holding the straitjacket by the front and tugging it up and over Warren’s shoulders.
The sensation of his hands trapped in the long sleeves was weird, but in a surprisingly good way.
Harland buckled the jacket up behind his back, pulling it tight, and then grabbed the end of the sleeves and pulled them across from each other and pulled his arms tight into his body so that he was hugging himself.
Fastening the buckles on the sleeves, locking the straitjacket in place on Warren’s torso, Harland spent a couple of minutes testing the fit, silently running his hand under the straps, down along his neck, and around his bound arms.
Warren spent the whole time that Harland was inspecting him on the verge of coming. He felt dazed, his mind fuzzy, but rather than feeling floaty and light, he felt heavy.
Satisfied with the fit of the jacket, Harland moved Warren back into position in front of the cart and resumed shopping.
Warren blinked, his legs moving on autopilot, and then he realized with a start that Harland was going to leave him like this.
Examining his feelings, the fuzzy feeling in his brain only getting fuzzier, Warren decided that he didn’t mind one bit.
After that, things were a bit of a haze. Harland kept shopping, adding a muzzle to the cart after trying it on Warren’s face and making sure it fit, along with another, even scarier hood and a duffel bag that Warren realized with a start was meant to be used to contain him.
Warren imagined Harland putting him in the bag when he was done shopping and carrying him out like he was just another purchase. He moaned, the mental fantasy playing out vividly in front of his mind’s eye, and came in his pants with a breathless shudder.
Harland froze, his massive, gloved hand sliding down between Warren’s legs and squeezing his cock as he continued shooting his load.
“You like the bag that much?” Harland asked, his voice rough and muffled by his helmet.
After the long silence, the sound of his voice was a shock.
Warren nodded.
“What about it?”
Warren took a tremulous breath. “I thought about you putting me inside after you paid and carrying me out like I was one of your things.”
“Good boy,” Harland said, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated into Warren’s very spine. He dragged his hand over Warren’s face, rough and stroking over his nose, mouth and forehead like he was petting a dog.
The movement of the gloved hand over his face squished Warren’s nose down and dragged on his lips and cheeks, but it felt so good that Warren didn’t mind the slight discomfort.
When he was done rubbing his face, leaving his nose feeling sore from being squished up and down, Harland clamped his hand down over Warren’s mouth and held him against his chest.
Trapped in the straitjacket, Harland’s huge mitt covering his face from the bottom of his nose and all the way down to his Adam’s apple, body still wracked with the aftereffects of his orgasm, Warren wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven.
“Do you want me to?”
The question didn’t make sense.
“What?” Warren asked, his voice muffled by the hand over his mouth.
“Carry you out of here in the bag?”
Warren nodded, Harland’s hand moving with him, unable to make himself verbalize the answer.
“In that case, I think we have what we came for.”
Harland lifted Warren up and tossed him over his shoulder and pushed the cart back to the elevator.
Warren was horrified when a lady and her blue-haired boyfriend looked at him from across the room. Their mouths hung open in shock.
The store had been relatively empty so far, with just a few employees in black t-shirts moving around on the first floor, and Warren had forgotten that they were in public.
He buried his face into the leather stretched across Harland’s muscular back.
Harland carried him into the elevator, the doors closing and letting Warren observe himself in the mirror. He looked completely helpless, slung over Harland’s wide shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Harland’s expressionless visor meeting his gaze in the mirror and making him shudder and look away.
Harland walked to the register, pushing the cart next to the counter and reaching inside to grab the bag.
“Em… hello?”
Warren couldn’t see the person behind the counter, but she sounded young.
“I’d like everything in the cart delivered. I’ll take the jacket and bag home with me now.”
“Sure. Would you…” The woman trailed off, not finishing the sentence, before clearing her throat and starting again. “Would you mind putting your friend down? I need to make sure that he is consenting to this.”
Warren was impressed. Harland was extremely intimidating in his daytime getup, and Warren would not have had the courage to challenge him like that.
Harland lowered him to his feet. Warren blinked and looked at the woman behind the counter. She was older than he’d thought from the sound of her voice, with a really cool dragon tattoo crawling up her throat and over her jaw.
“I’m consenting,” Warren said, blushing and feeling very observed. “This is my boyfriend.”
Harland stood a little taller and Warren felt a flush of happiness at having pleased him.
“Are you sure?”
“So sure. Do you see him?”
The woman behind the counter laughed, relaxing. “Yeah.” She looked Harland up and down. “Impressive.”
Harland grabbed Warren and tossed him back over his shoulder.
“I have an account. My payment and address are on file.” He gave her his phone number.
“Mr. Hill, yes. I have your information here. We’ll get this packed up for you and delivered by the morning.”
“Thank you.” Harland took the bag off the counter and put it on the floor. He then lowered Warren down and started tucking him into the leather bag.
“We really prefer if you don’t play in the store,” the woman behind the counter interrupted as Harland pushed Warren’s left leg into the bag. He had to bend Warren’s knee all the way up to his chest to make him fit.
The woman leaned over the counter and looked down at them like she couldn’t quite believe what she was witnessing.
“Please?” Warren whined before he could stop himself. The word just slipped out, his eagerness for the proceedings overriding his shame and common sense.
The woman hesitated, looking at his pleading face and seeming to come to a decision.
“I’m going to go pack up your order. What you do when I turn my back, I can’t control.”
“Thank you!” Warren said.
Harland tucked his other leg into the bag, both his knees now tucked up against his bound arms, and then zipped it closed.
The sudden darkness was startling. Warren couldn’t move an inch, his body compressed into the bag, the scent of leather filling his nose.
The bag lifted, pulling tight around him and squishing him further, and then he was swinging up and crashing into something hard.
Harland had pulled the bag over his shoulder, he realized, and the crash was him knocking into his side.
Warren went from feeling heavy and fuzzy to feeling like he was floating. The fuzzy feeling intensified, his ears filling with static as Harland carried him out of the store.
This was a million times hotter than what he’d fantasized. He couldn’t believe that he’d thought the bag was creepy when he’d seen it on the website.
It was awesome.
The shift to the outside was immediately noticeable. The bag went from feeling toasty and warm to feeling chilly, especially at the point where his jean-clad butt pressed into the leather.
They walked for a short distance, and then Warren felt himself being lowered to the ground. The bag opened, light bleeding in as the zipper parted, and then Warren was staring up at Harland’s visor once again.
Harland lifted him out of the bag, taking a minute to let him stand on his own two feet, and then unbuckled the straps keeping his arms wrapped around himself.
With his arms free, Warren felt unmoored. They dropped down, and Warren started shivering from the cold.
Harland reached down and picked up Warren’s coat from where it lay folded neatly on the ground next to the bondage bag.
He must have taken it with him from the cart before exiting the store, Warren realized. He stood still as Harland helped him into the coat, putting it on over the straitjacket, and zipped it up all the way to his neck.
“There we go,” Harland said, rubbing Warren’s arms.
With the coat on, Warren stopped being cold. The leather straitjacket hadn’t been nearly enough insulation on its own, but it made a very effective extra layer. After a moment, Warren was downright toasty.
Harland then reached into the storage compartment on his motorcycle and pulled out a pair of wide motorcycle goggles. He turned away from the sun, tilting his head down, and lifted the helmet off his head.
Warren jerked forward in alarm. “What are you doing?” His heart raced with worry at the sight of Harland’s unprotected head.
Well, not unprotected. He still wore his balaclava. It covered everything except a narrow slit for his eyes, and once Harland put the goggles on, those were covered too.
“I think you should put your helmet back on,” Warren said, the balaclava feeling very flimsy and inadequate.
The sun could kill him.
“Safety first,” Harland said, plopping the helmet down on Warren’s head and tightening the strap under his chin. The helmet was too big, but once the strap was adjusted it felt secure enough.
The inside of the helmet smelled like a mix of new-car smell and the product Harland used to wash his hair.
Warren’s stomach fluttered at the care Harland was showing him.
He glanced up at the towering vampire through the tinted visor, the helmet muffling the sound of the world around him.
He had thought that Harland was intimidating when he wore his helmet – the anonymous blankness of his visor making it impossible to know what he was thinking – but he was just as intimidating in his balaclava and goggles.
The balaclava hugged the contours of Harland’s sharp jaw and wide cheekbones, emphasizing his powerful neck and the graceful line of his mouth.
Stepping over his bike and straddling it, Harland grabbed Warren around his waist and lifted him up and set him down behind him.
He then grabbed the straps coming off the tips of Warren’s sleeves and pulled Warren’s arms around his waist, yanking them forward and forcing Warren to sit flush against his back.
Warren let out a gasp as Harland somehow fastened the straps together, locking Warren’s arms in place around his waist and keeping him pressed tight enough to Harland’s back that filling his lungs was a challenge.
Unable to do anything but hold on, more backpack than passenger, Warren tucked his head against Harland’s broad back. He closed his eyes as the alpha kicked the bike into gear, the sudden roar of the engine making him jerk in surprise as they took off.