Part 16 With Love #2
Scott whimpered into the kiss and tried to make himself a little taller so he was more easily accessible. Joe tugged at Scott’s collar in response, encouraging him to strive up into the kiss even while he remained on his knees.
It felt so perfect, so right. For the first time, it actually seemed possible to Scott that what they had could last forever; that Joe could want him for an entire lifetime.
The kiss ended, but neither Scott nor Joe pulled away. Their lips remained just a breath apart. Joe tilted his head and brought his temple to rest against Scott’s forehead.
“I love you. I may not be the kind of guy who remembers to say it as often as I should; but every time you touch this collar, every time it moves against your skin or you feel its weight around your neck, that’s what it means.”
Scott closed his eyes very tightly. Without being conscious of it, he lifted his hand and hooked two fingers through the collar right alongside Joe’s fingers.
I love you, too. Except Scott was certain that Joe wasn’t saying anything to him just to hear it echoed back at him.
“Thank you, s-sir.” That seemed like a far more appropriate response.
* * * * *
Joe smiled down at Scott.
Was there a different light in his eyes when Scott looked up at him in return? It would be wonderful to think so, but it would probably be equally unrealistic to expect a collar to act like a magic wand.
“Come on, before I get carried away and screw you right here on the floor.”
Scott parted his lips.
“Not an option,” Joe cut in, before Scott had a chance to tell him just how fine he would be with that scenario.
Scott put his lips back together.
“Time for you to get changed,” Joe said. “Give me your coat.”
Scott gave up the garment without a word.
Glancing across to the club’s rear entrance, Joe saw that Frank and Tony were nearly done with their smoke break. “Hey, you two.” They turned to face him. “Bugger off.”
Both men laughed and good-naturedly made their way past the makeshift sitting area and on into the club. As Frank passed, Joe reached out and shook hands with him; Scott didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about that.
Satisfied that all was going to plan, Joe waited until the other two men were out of sight. Sitting back in his seat, he nodded to the bag. “Your new club clothes are in the centre section.”
Scott opened the bag with obvious caution. Joe watched him pull out the pair of leather trousers he’d bought for him, then the simple white sleeveless T-shirt. Right at the bottom were the traditional military style boots, complete with some thick socks.
Joe was reasonably sure he knew Scott’s body perfectly.
He’d run his hands over every inch of him often enough.
He smiled to himself as Scott bashfully stripped off, then proved him correct in every estimated measurement.
The trousers fitted Scott like a second skin.
Catching hold of Scott’s hips, Joe pulled him forward to stand directly in front of his seat.
“Perfect.”
Even in the muted storeroom lights, the silver collar shone beautifully. Joe adjusted it so the little tag attached to it lay neatly against the notch between Scott’s collarbones.
It really was so bloody tempting to just take Scott home. Only the fact that it would bugger-up all the timings he’d worked out, kept Joe from doing exactly that.
Joe stood up. Standing around in the queue out front would make Scott nervous. Sod that. Nothing was allowed to ruin their night. Taking Scott by the hand, Joe led him into the club the back way.
As they entered the public areas, Joe kept walking, refusing to give Scott a moment to build his nerves up to monumental proportions. Within a minute, they stood alongside the bar. For once, having worked in damn near every leather flavoured club and pub in the city worked in Joe’s favour.
“Two barman specials,” he said to a familiar face, handing over his cash.
Two beer bottles were duly passed across the stained wooden surface with a friendly nod of recognition.
Joe handed one bottle to Scott before moving to stand behind him so he could wrap his arms comfortably around Scott.
The gesture was only partially about making Scott feel safe.
He was also marking his territory in front of the other doms present.
Pinning Scott’s back against his chest, Joe spread out his fingers and covered Scott’s abs with as much of his hand as possible.
“Don’t just cradle your drink,” he ordered. “Take a swig. It will cool your nerves.”
Scott did as he was told, just as Joe had come to expect, but one sip had Scott frowning at the bottle.
Dipping his head, Joe whispered in Scott’s ear. “In a certain kind of club, it doesn’t look good to have everyone behind the bar drinking lemonade all night. That doesn’t mean the staff are allowed to get sloshed on the job.”
Scott nodded his understanding and took another sip of his carefully disguised soft drink.
“Good boy,” Joe whispered into his ear. “I want you clear-headed for what will come later. If you’re good, that just might involve you coming.”
* * * * *
Scott took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was so easy for Joe to say that the drink would cool his nerves, but there was no way the chilled lemonade could compete with the way Joe’s muscular frame was pressed tightly against his back.
Scott took another swig of his beer-bottle-lemonade.
Its fizziness did nothing to stop his erection straining painfully against the inside of the crazily tight leather trousers Joe had given him.
Nothing would ever be cold enough to stop Joe being able to make Scott feel hot and bothered whenever he wanted.
“What do you think of the club?” Joe asked.
“It’s int-t-teresting, sir,” Scott said. He dipped his voice on the last word.
“There’s no need to be discrete, sweetheart,” Joe told him with a chuckle. “Everyone here understands why one man calls another sir. Everyone respects it.”
Slowly lifting his gaze from his drink, Scott took his first real look at the club.
No one paid them the least bit of attention.
Men stood around, chatting and getting friendly with each other.
Most of them wore a certain amount of leather.
Some wore collars, too—submissives of all shapes, sizes, and ages.
Gay. Kinky. Both were par for the course. There was nothing special about his relationship with Joe—nothing an outsider would be able to see, at least.
Scott tilted his head slightly to one side.
“They all understand what it means to be a sub or a dom,” Joe went on.
In the background, music played. The beat pounded through the air. Joe’s hard-on rubbed against Scott’s arse every time Joe moved his hips in time with the beat. It made it damn difficult for Scott to think.
“It’s safe for you to be yourself here, and your collar means no one will lay a hand on you,” Joe pressed a kiss against Scott’s neck. “Except me, of course.”
“Yes, s-sir.” Scott made a point of not whispering his response. He over-compensated. It came out far louder than he intended. Damn! Scott dipped his head as heat rushed to his checks.
“Say it as loud as you like. Shout it at the top of your voice. That’s fine, too,” Joe promised.
Scott took a hasty sip of his drink.
“What are you supposed to do if you feel nervous?” Joe asked, speaking his words softly against Scott’s earlobe.
The collar. Scott lifted his hand and hooked his fingers around the silver links. They brushed against something that he hadn’t noticed before. Some sort of tag?
Craning his neck, Scott tried to peer down and see what it was.
“You can look at it in the mirror when we get home.”
When we get home.
It was a simple thing for a Joe to say, but such a wonderful thing for Scott to hear. He had a home now, and it was with Joe. Scott closed his eyes and leaned more comfortably into Joe’s embrace. There was no actual need for them to go to Joe’s flat; Joe was home to him.
All thought of the tag on his collar slipped from Scott’s mind. He floated through the next hour, high on how wonderful life could be. Joe spoke to other men, each one seemingly more pierced and tattooed than the last. He introduced Scott to them as well.
Apparently, Scott wasn’t required to do anything other than nod and smile.
That was fine with him. A few of the guys wearing collars shook hands with him, but even then, Scott wasn’t required to step away from the comfort and safety of Joe’s embrace.
Joe’s arms remained wrapped around him; his presence completely enveloping Scott in a safe cocoon.
“You’re a good sub, and a good man. I’m proud as hell to have you in my life, and I have no hesitation in showing you off to anyone.” Joe dipped his head toward Scott’s ear again. “Any doubts about any of that?”
“No, sir,” Scott said. “No d-d-doubts.” To his own surprise, he realised that was actually the truth.
“Good, because if we hang around here any longer, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to wait until we get home. I’ll end up jumping you in the car.” Joe put his bottle down on the bar. Taking Scott’s drink from him, Joe set that aside, too.
For damn near the first time that night, Joe took his arms from around Scott’s torso. Immediately feeling vulnerable and exposed without top to toe physical contact with Joe, Scott dropped his gaze.
A second later, Scott found his hand going to his new collar. Joe was still wrapped all the way around him. Scott’s heart rate slowed. It became easier for him to breathe. The whole world was, in fact, a much better place.