Pushing the Envelope

Part One For the Attention Of

Joe Stuart pulled a crumpled envelope out of his jacket pocket and stared at the neat line of block, capital letters written across the front of it. That was definitely his name.

Taking the letter out of the envelope, Joe ran his eyes over the contents once again, just in case it had changed since the previous night, when he’d found the note shoved into his locker at one of the clubs where he tended bar.

He was certainly at the right address, but the spark of recognition he’d expected to strike him was conspicuously absent. He shrugged and strode up the path anyway. The front door was propped open, so he went straight in.

Joe barely noticed the messy jumble of belongings that littered the hallway.

The instructions in the letter were very specific.

Room nine. Upstairs, last door on the left.

Jogging briskly up the stairs, he headed straight to the designated room.

The door marked number nine was closed. He rapped his knuckles firmly against the faded woodwork, idly wondering if he’d recognise the man who lived there.

No one immediately answered his summons.

Joe frowned. He had the horrible feeling that someone was winding him up.

He looked over his shoulder and down the line of doors that flanked the corridor, trying to work out what the punchline might be.

Whoever had conned him out of his nice warm bed to investigate the mysterious note, they’d better hope it turned out to be bloody funny.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

No one answered his knock, no one jumped out and shouted “surprise”. Not a single damn thing happened. Joe sighed. That was what he got for letting his curiosity get the better of his common sense.

Shaking his head at himself, he stepped away from the door, wondering if it was worth going home to bed or if he should try to find some other way to amuse himself until he started his next shift at the club.

Halfway along the corridor, Joe paused. For some reason, he found himself retracing his steps and trying the door handle, just on the off chance. It turned easily within his grasp. The door swung open.

Joe stared silently into the room for several seconds. The central ceiling light was on, highlighting every detail of the man lying face down on the double bed opposite the door. The guy was completely naked but for the leather cuffs wrapped around his wrists and ankles, and he was stunning.

Lean lines of pale muscle called to Joe, just begging him to grab a whip and paint pretty lines across the pristine canvas.

At the same time, a spark of possessiveness crackled through Joe.

Stepping forward, he closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock for good measure.

This canvas was his. No other guys were going to be allowed to play on it until he was done.

A combination of floppy blond hair and an awkward angle obscured the bound man’s face. Joe still didn’t have a clue who he was about to screw. He took several steps forward. He was only three paces away from the bed when the lightning bolt of recognition finally hit him.

Scott!

The name circled around and around in Joe’s head as he ran his eyes over Scott’s body. Gradually, more words were added to the exclamation.

Scott.

Scott—naked.

Scott—naked and tied up.

Scott—naked, tied up, and apparently waiting for Joe to screw him.

Joe’s mind came to a stop then. He wasn’t sure how that scenario could get any better. Every element of his favourite fantasy was already there.

Frowning slightly, Joe tore his gaze away from Scott and looked around the room.

There had to be a hidden camera somewhere.

Things like this didn’t happen in real life.

They happened in wet-dreams and solo jack-off sessions.

They happened when he failed to hook up with anyone at the club and went home alone, his mind inevitably crammed full of fantasies involving the quiet guy who lurked on the edge of his group of friends.

To hell with it. If someone was filming them, that was fine with Joe. If nothing else, it might prove to be a hellishly good souvenir of the occasion.

Joe placed his fingertips against the inside of Scott’s ankle, just above the leather cuff.

Scott jerked. The chains connecting his bondage to the bed-frame rattled.

Joe waited, his fingers resting lightly on Scott’s skin.

No actual protest arrived. Joe gave Scott a few extra moments, just in case he wanted to speak up and tell him what the hell was going on.

Nothing.

It seemed that Joe had free rein. He smiled to himself as he shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it onto a chair in the far corner of the room. That was when he saw them.

He’d been wrong to think there was nothing anyone could have added to the scenario to make it even better. Joe strode across to the chest of drawers and stared down at the row of toys some thoughtful person had laid out on top of it.

Joe glanced over his shoulder. Scott’s eyes were still closed. Whatever private fantasy he was playing out, it didn’t seem to include seeing the man who’d be screwing him just yet.

Joe hummed cheerfully to himself as he considered his options.

Floggers, and butt-plugs, and whips, oh my!

He picked up a thick wooden paddle and tested the weight of it in his hand.

It was heavy—far too substantial to be used on a guy who wasn’t used to getting his arse spanked very hard and on a very regular basis.

Joe studied Scott’s naked form once more. Scott had an amazing arse. His buttocks were rounded and well developed, with just a little bit of extra padding. His skin was pale—as if he’d hidden it away from the sun for years.

It was hard to believe anything had ever landed against the lean lines of muscle that decorated Scott’s body. He was so perfect, so untouched—virgin territory. And, for a little while at least, he was Joe’s to do with as he pleased. Damn, but the world was a bloody brilliant place on occasion.

Joe set aside the paddle and picked up a small leather flogger. The strands were soft. The impact would be light. In the hands of someone who knew what he was doing, it would be perfect.

Joe turned toward the bed.

Scott’s forehead was furrowed with concentration, as if he was struggling to work out where Joe was, and what Joe was doing, without opening his eyes.

Joe flicked the leather lightly against the back of Scott’s calf, right above the patch of skin he’d caressed with his fingertips. Scott lurched against his restraints. He opened his eyes.

“I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep on me,” Joe teased.

So much worry flickered in Scott’s eyes, Joe forgot about all the fun he’d planned to have with the flogger. He sat down on the bed next to Scott and pushed a lock of blond hair back from Scott’s face.

“Second thoughts?” Joe asked, careful not to let any annoyance seep into the question.

Scott shook his head, rubbing his face against his pillow in the process. He closed his eyes once more.

Joe tightened his grip on Scott’s hair and tugged until Scott opened his eyes.

“You’ve never struck me as a guy who makes a habit of tying himself up and offering his arse to a stranger.”

Scott jerked his shoulders, as if he was so new to bondage he’d yet to work out that a man couldn’t shrug properly while bound that way.

“Cat got your tongue?” Joe prompted.

A blush spread across Scott’s cheeks. “That’s—that’s, kind of…I m-mean, that’s the whole p-point.”

Joe stared down at him, trying to work out what the hell that jumble of words was supposed to mean.

“You’re not the easiest guy to talk to.” Scott pronounced each syllable very slowly, very carefully, as if he had to focus really hard to get them out properly.

Joe didn’t often find himself speechless, but for several seconds he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Finally, he asked, “I’m not?”

Scott turned mute again. He shook his head, tugging at Joe’s hold on his hair.

“I don’t remember you ever…” Joe smiled. He couldn’t remember Scott uttering a single word to him in all the time they’d been regulars at the same club and shared the same group of friends.

He did, however, recall Scott blushing a lot. Now that he thought about it, he recalled catching Scott staring at him more than a few times too. All the pieces clicked together inside Joe’s head. “This is one hell of a way to get a man’s attention, darling!”

Scott stared down at the bed sheet, uncertainty shining brightly in big blue eyes.

“Bloody effective way too,” Joe admitted.

Scott glanced up for a moment. Their gazes met.

“It’s safe to say I’m completely fascinated,” Joe said.

Scott offered him a tentative smile.

Standing up, Joe adjusted his grip on the flogger. The toy stopped being something that just rested idly in the palm of his hand and once more became something to be used.

So, Scott had a crush on him and was too shy to just hit on him in the usual way. Joe wasn’t about to complain. “Your safe word is unicorn. Understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” Joe managed to catch Scott’s eye just before he brought the flogger down lightly against Scott’s leg, an inch above where it had last landed.

Scott gasped, but there was no trace of fear in his expression. No mythical creature rushed to his lips.

Joe brought the flogger down on Scott’s other ankle and set about working his way up each of his legs with perfect symmetry.

He kept the touch of the leather light, more a tease than anything else.

It was barely a hint towards what Scott might receive from him in the future, but it was the most he could risk.

Scott was obviously a novice, and Joe didn’t have that much time before he was due at work.

If he was going to whip and run, he had to be careful.