Part Three Written Request #2
He followed close on Joe’s heels into some sort of locker room.
He peered around the cramped space trying to work out what kind of place they were visiting.
There were a few other guys in there, all of them in various stages of undress, just like in a gym changing room.
But, somehow, he still got the distinct impression they weren’t going to be doing any kind of conventional work out.
“Scott!”
He turned toward Joe just in time to catch one of the keys when Joe tossed it to him. Scott peered down at the key as if he had no idea what to do with it, which wasn’t actually too far from the truth. He looked up at Joe, tried to read his expression for some clue, and failed completely.
“Take your clothes off. Put them in your locker,” Joe ordered.
“A-all of them?” Scott whispered, stepping closer, so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“All of them,” Joe confirmed.
Scott felt the blood drain from his face at the prospect.
“Except your boots of course,” Joe added.
Scott’s attention dropped to Joe’s feet. He was wearing boots too—black military style ones. As discreetly as possible, Scott peeked at all the other guys’ footwear.
Boots, boots and more boots.
As Scott watched, two men left the changing room, their bare cocks swinging freely with each step, their buttocks bright white compared to the tan covering the rest of their bodies. They’d kept their boots on.
“It’s called a boots only night for a reason.”
Scott nodded, as if that was the kind of event he attended every other week. It was several seconds before he actually processed the words. “Nobody wears anything but their boots?”
“That’s right,” Joe said, with a lopsided grin. “Not even me.” As he spoke, he undid his jacket.
Scott half expected to discover that Joe wasn’t wearing a stitch beneath his leather jacket, but he had a tight fitting black T-shirt on. Somehow, that fact didn’t help Scott remember how to breathe as easily as it should have.
He was going to see Joe naked. Scott had asked for nudity, and he was going to get it.
Admittedly, it had never occurred to Scott that he’d needed to specify that he would much prefer a private viewing, or to enquire if the price he’d have to pay for the pleasure would involve wandering around stark bollock naked in front of God knew how many equally naked men.
Scott slowly dragged his gaze up to Joe’s face. Joe raised an eyebrow at him. Scott immediately scrambled to work out what he’d done to displease him.
His clothes. He was supposed to be taking them off. Scott fumbled with the zip on his coat. Undressing suddenly required an entire set of skills he didn’t possess.
With most of his attention still fixed on Joe, Scott took his clothes off as if he were following an instruction manual translated from Chinese to English, by someone who didn’t understand either language.
Joe hung his leather jacket in his locker.
A second later, his T-shirt was gone. He had an intricate black tattoo on his right shoulder that Scott had never been lucky enough to see it up close before.
Scott lost his grip on his own shirt buttons as he fought against the urge to reach out and touch Joe’s ink without an invitation.
His need to run his hands over the complicated swirl of Celtic symbols was almost unbearable. So was the desire to lick it. Scott’s mouth watered at the prospect. Hell, why stop with the tattoo. He’d love to lick every other bit of Joe too.
“Forgetting something?” Joe asked.
Scott blinked. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he went back to fumbling at his own clothes.
Piece by piece, Scott put each garment in his locker.
He didn’t risk another glance at Joe until he’d removed everything and replaced his boots.
He was completely naked from the ankles up—having his boots on only stressed that fact.
It was a locker room. There was nothing wrong with being naked in a locker room.
Scott had been to gyms, if not regularly then, at least, on occasion.
He’d got changed there the same as everyone else.
He might not be entirely confident about his body, but he wasn’t a prude.
If he hadn’t been sporting a very obvious erection, he might have been okay.
His fingers trembled as he turned the key in his locker.
No one was going to swing a punch at him for getting turned on by all the naked men around him.
There weren’t going to be any homophobic straight men there.
Everyone was gay or bi. There was nothing to be afraid of.
None of those very logical thoughts actually helped Scott feel the least bit calmer.
When a hand brushed against the small of his back, Scott jumped forward and almost slammed himself face first into the row of lockers. He glanced over his shoulder. Joe was right there, and he didn’t look the least bit happy.
Scott swallowed rapidly and tried to work out what was wrong. There were no clues in Joe’s expression. His eyes revealed nothing. Scott wished like hell that he could believe his own poker face was just as effective.
* * * * *
Joe silently cursed himself as he stared down into a pair of big, blue, and very scared looking eyes. Scott really was a shy little thing. A man would have to be a complete bastard to drag him into a boots only night before they’d even spent a few hours naked and alone together.
Suddenly, Joe’s amusing idea didn’t seem so funny. It seemed less likely to nudge Scott out of his comfort zone and deeper into his submission, and far more likely to leave him scarred for life.
Joe lowered his gaze and saw that there was at least one part of Scott that appeared unaffected by his terror. Scott’s cock was loving it. Talk about mixed signals.
“Do you want to leave?” Joe asked, cutting straight to the chase.
Scott’s eyes opened very wide. “No!” He caught hold of Joe’s bicep as if he thought Joe was the one who looked like he might run for the hills at any moment—as if he really thought he could stop Joe if that’s what he decided to do.
“You look as if you’re about to face a room full of serial killers,” Joe pointed out.
A little bit of colour came back to Scott’s face. Admittedly, it was an embarrassed blush rather than a healthy glow, but it was still better than the deathly pale version of Scott that had stared up at Joe just a few moments before.
“I just…” Scott took a deep breath and waved a hand toward his flourishing erection as if he thought it might have escaped Joe’s notice. “I need a m-minute or two to get myself b-back under control,” he whispered.
Joe looked from Scott’s face to his hard cock and back again.
Was it really possible that Scott hadn’t realised that everyone in the building was either going to be sporting wood or working on getting himself hard as soon as he could?
“No one’s going to be insulted if you get turned on looking at them,” Joe said.
Scott glanced up at him. “I guess I’m just n-not used to everyone else in the locker room being g-gay,” he whispered.
“And you’re not used to walking around naked and hard in front of strangers?” Joe suggested, with a smile. It was pretty much exactly what he expected.
Scott nodded. A lock of shiny blond hair fell forward into his eyes. He was so serious, so sweet, and since he seemed happy to stay in the pub it was impossible for Joe to resist upping the stakes.
“You don’t need to worry,” Joe whispered, dipping his head and bringing his lips to Scott’s ear as if sharing a secret with him. “I never intended you to go out there completely naked.”
Obvious relief rushed across Scott’s face as Joe pulled back. A moment later, his expression morphed back into complete and utter shock.
“What the—?”
Joe chuckled as he wrapped his fingers a little more firmly around Scott’s cock. “It’s a cock ring,” he said, as he fitted the flexible ring snugly in place at the base of Scott’s shaft.
“I know w-what it is, I…” Scott’s words trailed off as he met Joe’s eyes. Of all the things he might have thought he’d be allowed to wear, a cock ring obviously hadn’t made it onto his list.
“It looks good on you,” Joe said, as he casually caressed Scott’s hard shaft. Holding the length of Scott’s erection steady, he checked the fit, making sure none of the short blond hairs at the base of Scott’s cock were going to get caught.
Scott swallowed rapidly. For a moment, it looked as if he might protest, but he ultimately remained silent, accepting his “outfit” with true submissive grace.
Reluctantly releasing Scott’s cock, Joe closed his own locker, took Scott’s key from his unresisting hand, and tucked both keys into the side of his own boot. “Come on.”
He was not going to jump Scott in the locker room, Joe reminded himself. Scott had wanted nudity and Joe was going to see to it that that was what Scott got. And he’d make sure Scott got it without being so stressed he gave himself a stroke.
Joe paused at the door leading out of the locker room and took hold of Scott’s hand to reassure him there was no need to worry about anything. Then he led Scott purposefully into the bar area without giving him time to get more nervous.
There was an unoccupied table in the farthest corner of the room. Joe kept hold of Scott’s hand and didn’t release it until they’d reached the empty table. Finally, freeing Scott’s fingers, Joe sat down on the leather cushions that ran along the wall and settled his arm along the back of the seat.
A moment’s hesitation, then Scott gingerly sat down next to him. Apparently, trapped between a desire to look around the room and a fear of being caught checking anyone out, he spent more time studying the table than anything else.
“You’re allowed to look,” Joe said. “That’s the whole point.”
Joe watched Scott’s face as he took his advice and slowly ran his gaze over the room before turning back to Joe. His shoulders gradually relaxed. He unfurled his fists and settled his hands against the seat at his sides.