Part Three Written Request
Damn, but wasn’t that a fantastic sight to come home to? A little of Joe’s exhaustion faded away as he turned the corner at the end of the corridor leading to his flat. He smiled to himself as he paused to admire the view.
Scott was bent over right outside Joe’s front door.
His dark blue jeans were stretched taught over his buttocks.
He was damn near begging someone to come up behind him and grind against his arse.
As Joe watched, Scott straightened up. That was okay.
Joe had already had plenty of time to etch the image indelibly into his brain—one more picture of Scott for him to treasure on those cold, boring nights when he had nothing but his own right hand to keep his cock warm and happy.
Scott took a step back from Joe’s door before finally turning around. If he’d been a cat rather than a submissive, he’d have only had eight lives left to play with after spotting Joe. Scott’s feet actually left the floor as he jerked with surprise.
“W-what are you…?” Scott began.
“What are you doing here?” Joe finished for him. “Isn’t that my line?”
Scott blinked in confusion as Joe closed in on him.
“I’m the one who lives in this building, right?” Joe added.
“I…um…”
Joe studied Scott for a few seconds. He felt a strange, protective desire to rescue Scott from his embarrassment, but he couldn’t deny there was also pleasure to be had in watching him squirm.
Scott’s cheeks became flushed. Ducking his head, he glanced up at Joe through his lashes. That was it.
Eventually, it became obvious to Joe that Scott had no intention of trying to speak up again. The rescuer in Joe finally won out. He extended a hand. Scott stared at it as if he’d never seen fingers or a palm before.
“You have an envelope for me,” Joe hinted.
“I…” Scott looked over his shoulder.
Joe followed his gaze to the small gap beneath his front door. Stepping around Scott, Joe unlocked his flat and picked up the small white envelope laying just inside his hallway.
Scott shoved his hands deep into his pockets. If his jeans had been a little looser, he might have pushed them down to his knees in his rush to try to hide his nerves behind the denim. No such luck. Scott’s trainers squeaked against the wooden floorboards as he shuffled his feet.
“That’s enough,” Joe said, as he turned back to him. “Stop fidgeting.”
Scott froze.
Joe nodded his approval. Ripping open the envelope, he found a carefully folded piece of note paper.
If you don’t mind, I’d really like to see you naked. Please.
Joe didn’t chuckle. He didn’t even allow himself to crack a smile. He ran his eyes over the neatly written words one more time. The ‘please’ was a nice touch. It was a very Scott-like touch.
“If you’d r-rather n-not—” Scott began.
“Be outside your house at ten o’clock tonight,” Joe cut in. “And make sure you’re wearing boots.”
“B-boots? Um…okay?” Scott hazarded.
Joe put the envelope and the note in his jacket pocket, stepped into his flat, and closed the door behind him. A second later, he was peering through the peephole, checking on Scott’s reaction.
Scott stared at Joe’s front door for several long seconds. It was impossible to tell if he was shocked to get a third date that easily, or if he couldn’t believe that he’d been abandoned on the doorstep rather than invited in.
As Joe watched, Scott pressed the heel of his palm against his crotch through his jeans. Whatever he was thinking, it had to be as hot as hell. Even with the distortion of the peephole, the line of Scott’s erection was clearly visible through his trousers.
Nodding contentedly to himself at a job well done, Joe turned away from the door and wandered toward his bed. He set his alarm clock to make sure he woke up in time for their date and lay down, still wearing the same clothes he’d worn for a double shift in a sauna on the other side of town.
He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. In his dreams, there were no jeans blocking his view of Scott’s arse.
* * * * *
Scott stared down at his sensible brown hiking boots. Rocking back on his heels, he pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets in an effort not to fidget. It was almost ten o’clock. Joe might turn up any second. It wouldn’t do for Joe’s first impression of him that night to be a disobedient one.
Scott frowned as he resorted to wriggling his toes inside his boots.
It didn’t seem likely that Joe wanted them to go on a nice brisk walk in the middle of the night.
Even if Joe was determined to keep all of his clothes on and never allow Scott to see a single bit of naked flesh, the idea of Joe and country rambles just didn’t sit right inside Scott’s head.
A low noise, somewhere between a purr and a roar, tugged at Scott’s senses. He leaned forward, craning his neck to peek past the neighbour’s overgrown hedge.
A motorbike rolled into view and pulled up at the kerb in front of Scott.
Scott’s mouth literally watered as he ran his eyes over each stunning inch of it.
The machine was sex on two wheels—with an extra order of chrome and black paintwork thrown in for good measure; and Joe sat astride it like the king of the leather-clad world.
It had to be Joe, no one else would be able to look that hot—not even on a bike made out of pure sex appeal. Joe didn’t bother to lift his visor, he just held another helmet out to Scott.
With his eyes still feasting on every perfect detail of both the man and the bike, Scott stepped forward and blindly took the helmet. Then, he just stood there and stared some more. It had never even occurred to him that Joe might pick him up on his bike rather than in his car.
He should have thought about it; he should have anticipated it. He should have jacked off thinking about it.
Joe impatiently revved the bike’s engine. Scott snapped back into movement. He wouldn’t put it past Joe to leave without him if he kept him waiting too long.
Scott fumbled with the helmet. Finally managing to get it on and secured, he scrambled onto the bike behind Joe. There was a little chrome hand hold behind the pillion seat. Gathering up all his courage, Scott ignored it in favour of wrapping his arms around Joe’s body.
The bike was just like Joe—it lacked all middle gears.
One moment they were idling at the kerb, the next, they were speeding headlong down the street.
Suddenly, Scott wasn’t just clutching around Joe for the chance to grope him.
He clawed at Joe’s leather jacket with his fingernails.
The small part of his brain that wasn’t praying they got to wherever they were going in one piece, hoped like hell that he didn’t rip the leather in his panic.
Joe threw them along a tight, winding route, faster and faster. Pressed tightly against Joe’s back, Scott had little choice but to lean into the corners with Joe—to follow Joe’s lead, and hope like hell that was what a pillion passenger was supposed to do.
He closed his eyes and desperately tried to think of something other than how close the ground came to their knees every time they wavered from a perfectly straight line. Something like how bloody wonderful it felt to be pressed up against Joe that tightly.
The vibrations from the engine rolled up through Scott’s body as he gradually managed to relax just a few of his muscles.
His shaft throbbed inside his jeans. Every time either of them moved, Scott’s cock rubbed against Joe’s arse through their clothes, tempting him to imagine what it would be like if Joe ever allowed him to top.
Behind his helmet, Scott bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to add his own groans of pleasure to the noise of the engine.
Finally, Joe brought the bike to a halt. The sudden silence made Scott’s ears ring. The vibrations stopped, but Scott’s body still trembled with the echoes of them. He was vaguely aware that time was passing, but he had no idea how long he sat there, clinging to Joe like a helmet-wearing limpet.
Joe shrugged his shoulders until Scott eventually managed to let go. Dismounting with practiced ease, Joe tugged off his helmet and turned to face Scott.
Scott didn’t try to follow Joe’s example and get off the bike. He wasn’t sure his legs would support him. He reached for the strap on the helmet instead. His fingers wouldn’t work. Panic at being stuck forever bubbled up inside Scott.
Joe stepped forward and unceremoniously pushed Scott’s hands aside. He soon had the helmet off.
Shaking his head, Scott reached up and rubbed his hands through his hair. Joe looked tousled and gorgeous, but Scott suspected that he looked more like a bedraggled hedgehog in comparison.
“First time?” Joe asked.
Scott managed to nod.
“You did fine.”
The praise was so unexpected, Scott could only blink at Joe in shock.
“Come on.” Joe wrapped his arm around Scott’s waist and half lifted and half dragged him off the bike.
Scrambling to raise his trailing leg over the saddle, Scott somehow managed to keep himself upright.
For the first time, he looked around, trying to work out where they were.
He didn’t have much time to wonder, he was soon too busy hurrying to keep up with Joe’s longer strides as he led the way into the low, shadowy building next to the car park.
Joe dropped some money on the counter just inside the entrance and took both of the keys the man working there offered to him.
Scott hesitated for a split second as he passed the counter, but Joe didn’t order him to stop and get anything and Scott wasn’t inclined to either take the initiative or to let Joe out of his sight.