Part Six For His Eyes Only
Scott stood on the pavement outside a very fashionable hair-dressers—the kind that charged more for a quick trim than he made in a month.
He’d read the note Joe had slipped into his pocket at the end of their last date a dozen times.
He’d been sure he’d known the address where he was supposed to meet Joe off by heart, but apparently not.
And, of course, sod’s law, he’d already sent his taxi away.
Frowning at the darkness behind the shop window, glad it was closed so that he didn’t have an audience to his stupidity, Scott dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the latest envelope from Joe.
Hopefully, the right address was close by, so he’d be able to run there and not be late.
Carefully extracting the note, Scott re-read the address.
He looked at the number on the building, and then at the street sign on the corner. Everything seemed to match.
The sudden roar of a motorbike turning into the street made Scott smile. Even if the hair-dressers didn’t look like Joe’s type of place, that definitely sounded like Joe’s kind of ride.
The physical memory of the vibrations that had danced through his body when he’d been permitted to ride pillion behind Joe, rushed straight to Scott’s cock.
He immediately began to harden. Scott couldn’t bring himself to be surprised.
Everything about Joe had the same effect on him.
The guy was super-strength, leather-clad Viagra.
A hulking mass of silvered chrome and shining black metal rolled to a stop alongside Scott.
Hastily pushing the note into his pocket, Scott did his best to force his features into something resembling a sensible smile, rather than an idiotic grin. He had as much control over his face as he had over his cock.
Joe pulled his helmet off and shoved his hand through his hair, shaking out the dark strands. “Turn around.”
Scott obediently turned through three–hundred-and-sixty degrees. He did his best to remain calm, but his mind was racing like a stallion being whipped by the most sadistic of jockeys.
Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to dress up for their date. Maybe if he—
“No,” Joe corrected, patiently. “Turn to face the shop window, then stop.”
“Oh, s-sorry,” Scott mumbled, dutifully turning his back on Joe.
“Do you remember what your safe word is?”
Scott swallowed several times in quick succession. In his reflection on the dark window pane, he saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I r-remember,” he whispered.
“Good. Stay where you are. You don’t have permission to move.”
Scott refocused and watched Joe put his crash helmet in the case on the back of his bike and take something out of one of the panniers.
Being able to see what Joe was doing helped calm Scott’s nerves a little, but he knew he hadn’t been given permission to make use of Joe’s reflection that way. As adrenaline rushed into his blood stream, Scott dropped his gaze.
It was so easy to feel as if he was a naughty boy who’d been sent to stand in the corner until it was time for his spanking.
Scott only just managed to bite back a whimper at the possibility of being turned over Joe’s knee.
The idea of Joe’s hand falling against his bare arse again and again… Scott closed his eyes.
A fantasy version of his first ever spanking appeared in his mind.
Joe would be dressed, of course. He hardly ever seemed to take off any clothing unless it was absolutely necessary or specifically asked for.
Scott could almost feel his own naked erection rubbing against the rough denim that covered Joe’s legs as each smack made him rock against Joe’s thighs.
Sudden pressure against his eye lids jerked Scott out of his day dream. He tried to open his eyes, but something was covering them. He lifted a hand to his face. His fingers brushed against a cool, smooth surface when he tried to touch his eyes.
Picking at the edges of it, Scott desperately tried to tug it off his eyes, but he couldn’t get a grip on it.
All he succeeding in doing was scratching his forehead.
Whatever covered Scott’s eyes wrapped itself all the way around his head.
He felt it move against his hair as it completely encircled his scalp.
Scott wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t make his vocal cords work—not even when the thing pulled him backward, stealing all his balance from him.
“You’re only going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.”
Scott froze. “J-j-joe?”
“Who else would it be?”
Scott relaxed, cursing himself for a fool. He’d have rolled his eyes at himself, if he’d been able to open them.
Fingers moved against the back of Scott’s head, the thing over his eyes cinched tighter. Joe was doing up some sort of fastening.
Suddenly, Scott felt Joe’s hands move to his shoulders. They spun him around, almost sending him crashing to the ground.
Unable to rely on visual cues, Scott swayed and groped for any solid point of reference. His hands landed on Joe’s forearms. Scott clenched the sleeves of Joe’s jacket, relishing the increasingly familiar feel of leather, as well as the strength and solidity Joe represented.
“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Joe said.
Scott frowned behind his…his blindfold, he supposed. “An a-answer to what?”
“Who else would be blindfolding you?”
Scott chuckled. It took him a moment to realise that the icy atmosphere had nothing to do with the chilly breeze. Joe was seriously asking him who else he’d been playing with.
“N-no one,” Scott said. “It wouldn’t have been anyone else—it c-couldn’t be.” Scott listened very carefully as he struggled to gauge Joe’s reaction. A car engine purred as it no doubt drove down one of the side streets nearby. A dog barked in the distance. Joe said nothing.
The only way Scott could be sure that Joe was still there, was by the warmth from Joe’s hands seeping through his coat and into his shoulders.
Scott tightened his grip on Joe’s jacket, sure Joe wouldn’t leave without that, even if he couldn’t have been blamed for walking away from such a clueless idiot.
“No one else,” Scott whispered. “I w-wouldn’t do that.” He wasn’t even sure who he was trying to convince now, himself or Joe. The idea of him screwing around behind Joe’s back was insane. But, the probability that Joe still had a string of other lovers on the side was—
“Come on.” Joe turned Scott around again and pushed him forward. “Small step up.”
Scott edged cautiously forward. His toe tapped against a step. Joe reached past his shoulder and Scott heard a key turn in a lock, followed by the light, pleasant sound of a shop bell tinkling above his head. They were going into the hair-dressers?
Lifting his hands, Scott held them out in front of himself, blindly feeling for obstacles in his way.
He searched his memory, trying to remember what he’d seen of the layout inside the shop when he’d peered through the window.
Damn! He hadn’t actually looked through the window for more than a second.
Joe’s grip on Scott’s shoulders tightened. “I won’t walk you into anything by accident.”
His tone of voice was off. It sounded more like, when he did walk Scott into something, it would be on purpose. Scott still dropped his hands to his sides, instinctively needing to hand over control to Joe, even if he knew it would get him hurt.
“That’s better,” Joe murmured.
The pleasure his words sent racing through Scott was worth any number of stubbed toes or bruised limbs. Scott’s cock strained against the inside of his trousers. Joe could walk him into whatever he liked.
They seemed to make their way further back than the shop could possibly run, passing through a series of doors along the way.
If there were any obstacles, Joe guided Scott around them rather than into them.
The only bruises on him when they reached their destination were the very faint marks that still lingered on Scott’s hips from when Joe had held him still to be screwed, three days ago, in the department store.
Finally, Joe stopped, bringing Scott to a jerky halt.
Scott’s hearing told him nothing about the kind of room they were in now. “J-Joe?” he asked.
“Yes?” Joe’s hands left Scott’s shoulders.
Scott turned, following the sound of Joe’s footsteps as they walked away from him. “Am I allowed to ask w-where we are?”
“You can ask.”
Scott opened his mouth to do just that.
“But you won’t get an answer.”
Scott brought his lips back together.
“Take off your clothes,” Joe ordered. “All of them. Leave the blindfold on.”
Scott fiddled with one of the buttons on his coat. “Is a-anyone else here?”
“Why? Would you disobey me if we had an audience?” Joe countered.
Twisting the same button around and around until it was a wonder the thread held, Scott thought about that very carefully. “No, I’d s-still obey you,” he admitted.
“Good. But tonight is for my eyes only,” Joe said, from a few feet away. “I’m the only one who’ll see what happens in this room. That’s why you’re blindfolded. Not even you get to share the view tonight.”
Scott tilted his head back as he sensed Joe come closer, until he stood right in front of him. The blindfold was effective. Not a single ray of light made it past the padded leather. There was no way Scott could actually look up into Joe’s eyes.
Without any warning, something brushed against Scott’s lips. He opened his mouth and let out a shocked gasp. Joe’s tongue brushed against Scott’s bottom lip as he traced the line of Scott’s teeth with its tip.
Finally, Scott’s brain caught up with events. He reached out. Finding Joe’s shoulders, Scott clung to him like a drowning man grasping a life raft in a storm.
Scott had already learned that kisses from Joe were rare. They had to be savoured. Temporary blindness was no excuse for screwing that up.