Part Twelve First Class
My place. Friday. Midnight. Expect to stay the night.
Scott would have felt better if there had been a little bit more information contained in Joe’s note. Or, maybe not. Scott was reasonably sure he was never going to be able to turn up for a date with Joe without feeling his stomach tying itself into knots.
It was equally impossible to believe that he’d arrive at Joe’s without his cock being so hard it was testing the strength of the stitching around his fly, but he was quite happy to keep popping wood every time he visited Joe.
It was a far more pleasant sensation than nervousness, and he didn’t want to stop finding Joe as hot as hell.
Scott smiled at the idea that Joe could ever be anything other than hellishly erotic. Just at that moment, the door swung open.
“That’s a nice surprise,” Joe said.
Scott blinked. “Surprise?” He peered down at his wrist-watch. “I th-thought—”
“I meant the smile,” Joe cut in. “It’s good to see you looking more relaxed, more confident.”
“Oh…” Scott dutifully tried to ignore the fact that he was now as tense as any man could be.
Joe chuckled and shook his head in mock exasperation, as he stepped back and let Scott in.
Scott shuffled his feet against the hall carpet, unable to think of anything to say that didn’t revolve around the fact that Joe had decided to wear clothes when he answered his door tonight.
It would have been rude to complain that Joe’s foray into nudity had been so brief—like Scott thought he could make demands and state expectations.
Obviously, Joe had the right to wear whatever he wanted. He wasn’t the one who was frequently ordered to—
“Strip.”
Joe couldn’t have timed it better if he’d been able to read Scott’s thoughts straight out of his head.
In the middle of setting down his overnight bag, Scott hesitated.
The possibility of Joe being privy to all the crazy babbling that bounced around inside his mind was almost enough to make him want to turn tail and run.
“Any time you’re ready,” Joe prompted.
That was all he needed to say to pull Scott back into the moment. He pushed aside his irrational panic regarding sudden psychic abilities and focused on the far more sensible brand of panic that came from having kept Joe waiting.
At least that was something he could fix.
Placing each item of his clothing neatly on top of his bag in turn, Scott revealed his body with something closer to composure than he’d ever thought possible. He’d done it so often now, it almost felt natural.
After all this time, Joe was unlikely to realise that he was way out of Scott’s league and that he didn’t want to have sex with him after all.
Completely naked, Scott turned to look at Joe along the stark white hallway.
Against all logic, Scott couldn’t help but think that Joe looked nervous tonight too.
No. Not nervous. That didn’t make any sense. Joe wasn’t an anxious sort of guy. But, stressed-out, maybe?
“Have you had a b-bad d-day?” Scott blurted out.
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you think that?”
Scott shrugged. “You just seem d-different tonight.”
It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Joe’s shoulders noticeably bunched up beneath his T-shirt as he tensed.
“But no less h-hot,” Scott rushed out, eager to add anything that might erase Joe’s displeasure with him.
“Oh?”
Scott studied the floor between them. Unfortunately, there was nothing interesting there for him to stare at. His gaze soon migrated toward Joe’s boots. “You know d-damn well that you’re the hottest g-guy around.” Hell, even Joe’s footwear was making Scott desperate to come.
He saw Joe’s boots moving closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up.
“Have you been taking some sort of survey on the subject?” Joe asked.
Scott swallowed. As Joe stepped forward again, Scott dragged his gaze up to Joe’s well-worn jeans.
There were a couple of rips on the legs, but the material around the fly seemed to have been put to even more use than the rest. It was faded and thinning, and Scott itched to reach out and run his fingers over it.
His courage failed him; his arms remained at his sides. Still unsure if Joe was pleased with him or not, he couldn’t work out what the hell felt so different about tonight.
“Well?” Joe asked.
A trawl through his short-term memory brought up Joe’s last question. “Guys who s-stand on the edge of the crowd and watch everything from the s-side-lines see things that men in the m-m-middle of all the action can miss,” he said, quietly.
“Such as?”
Joe moved even closer, but Scott kept his gaze at fly height. Joe was just as hard as Scott was; knowing that always made Scott feel a bit better about the world.
Scott cleared his throat. “Every man who w-w-walks into a club where you’re tending b-bar can’t take his eyes off you.
You’re the first m-man they look at, the first one they ch-check out.
After that, they m-measure everyone else against the standard you s-s-set.
” Scott took a deep breath and pushed on.
“They might leave with another g-guy, but I’ll bet you’re the one most of them are th-thinking about when they c-c-come. ”
So what the hell are you doing with me?
The thought seeped into Scott’s mind unbidden, sliding along the all too familiar channels in his thought processes; the ones that were years old and would probably never disappear completely.
Scott shook his head, struggling to turn those thoughts around and force them to retreat. Joe wanted him. He’d made that clear in every possible way. Joe wouldn’t be with him unless he wanted him. He didn’t screw men he didn’t want. And he wanted Scott to believe that.
“I think you’re projecting, Scottie.”
Scott lifted his gaze slightly and frowned at the T-shirt material covering Joe’s abs. “W-What?”
A hand appeared at the edge of Scott’s vision. Before he could react, Joe’s fingers were already on his throat. His knuckles pressed against the underside of Scott’s chin, demanding that he tilt his head back and look Joe in the eye.
“Projecting,” Joe repeated.
Scott stared into Joe’s eyes, completely incapable of looking away without permission, or of making his brain work.
“You only think that because that’s what you did. Because you focused on me, you assume everyone else must have done the same,” Joe said. “I’ll bet just as many guys were checking you out.”
Scott tried to shake his head, but Joe caught hold of his chin, making that impossible.
“I’m right.” When Joe sounded that confident, it was hard to argue, but Scott fought against every instinct and made the effort.
“Maybe I’m not the only one who’s projecting?”
Joe grinned. That had to mean he wasn’t mad at Scott for disagreeing with him, didn’t it? Scott smiled his relief back at Joe.
Without any warning, Joe dipped his head and brought their lips together. Scott’s smile disappeared as the kiss instantly took complete control of his world. Without any hesitation, he tipped back his head, parted his lips, and gave himself over to Joe in every way he knew how.
Every one of his senses came alive. Gripping Joe’s biceps through his T-shirt sleeves, Scott let his thoughts slip away; the better to focus upon what he felt. There was no need for him to think about anything, no need for him to worry about anything.
He was under Joe’s control now. Worrying was Joe’s responsibility. There was only one thing Scott needed to do, and that was please Joe.
Arching his back, Scott pressed his body against Joe’s more muscular frame.
He felt Joe’s erection through his jeans as he thrust against him.
As wonderful as Joe’s clothes felt as they rubbed against his bare skin, rough and gorgeous and so very Joe, Scott couldn’t help but wish he was thrusting against bare skin instead.
Scott whimpered, a low needy sound that came from the very depth of his soul.
Joe slid his arms around Scott and held him even tighter. His hands were strong and confident against Scott’s back. When they grabbed hold of Scott’s arse, they were even better.
Scott imagined that Joe’s hands would leave beautiful red marks in their wake, just like the crop had the previous week.
Until he’d been spanked—first by Joe’s bare hand, and then with the crop—Scott hadn’t realised how wonderful wearing a lover’s marks under his skin could be.
Now, he longed for it to happen again and again.
As the seconds ticked by, Scott became vaguely aware that he was being led somewhere, but that wasn’t important enough to make him take any of his attention away from the kiss.
They weren’t in a club where anything went.
Joe probably wasn’t walking him out of his flat and into a public part of the building.
He was most likely taking him into his bedroom. Considering that was the only furnished room in the flat, Scott had to consider that a good thing.
And Scott’s guess was right. By the time Joe lifted his head and ended the kiss, they were standing in his bedroom. Scott looked from the rows of toys on the walls to the big double bed. The flat screen TV was gone.
Scott tried to focus on the remaining contents of the room. Nothing else had appeared to take the screen’s place, but the kit on the wall had to represent more than enough entertainment to last a lifetime.
Crops. Whips. Paddles.
Gags. Cuffs. Hoods.
Scott had no idea if Joe had anything particular in mind for them that evening, but he had complete faith in Joe being able to make it one of the most erotic nights of his life. He glanced up at Joe through his lashes.
For once, Joe didn’t rush to announce his plans. His expression remained unreadable. He didn’t say anything; he just stared down at Scott in return.
If Joe was looking for some particular bit of information to be offered up to him, Scott had no idea what it could be. Joe not instantly stepping up to the plate to take charge felt odd.