Part 16 With Love #3
Joe smiled, caught hold of Scott’s free hand, and led him from the club.
Scott followed, somewhat in awe of his own newfound confidence.
In Joe’s car, he relaxed back in his seat.
He’d made his decision. Joe had accepted his decision.
He belonged to Joe. And now, they were going back to Joe’s place.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rest behind him.
The only part of Scott not one hundred percent happy with events was his cock; and that was only because he really wanted to come and his erection saw no reason why he should have to wait until they reached Joe’s flat.
But, even though his shaft pressed more painfully against the front of those overly tight leather trousers by the minute, Scott found that he was neither disappointed nor relieved when Joe failed to pull over and jump him at any point on their journey across the city.
It was Joe’s choice. Everything was Joe’s choice now.
Scott smiled to himself. He only opened his eyes and lifted his head when the noise from the engine suddenly disappeared.
They were outside the block of flats where Joe lived.
Scott blinked and tried to push his brain into something like a sensible thought process, but it wasn’t easy. He was drunk on relief.
Joe undid both their belts, exited the car, and walked around to open Scott’s door.
“Th-thank you, sir.”
Joe wrapped his arm around Scott’s shoulders and guided every step he took, all the way up to his flat. Without even a drop of alcohol in his system, Scott was as incapable of looking out for himself as any sloshed partygoer had ever been.
Three yards from their destination, Scott tensed, all his happy sleepiness vanishing. He came to a complete stop just a few feet away from Joe’s front door, bringing Joe to a halt alongside him.
The lights in the public hallway were dimmed in deference to the late hour, and Joe hadn’t bothered to power them up when he obviously knew every step of their journey off by heart. A thin strip of brighter light was visible beneath the base of Joe’s door.
“D-d-did you leave the l-l-light on when you l-left, s-sir?” Scott asked. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
Joe gave him a strange look. “Why would I?”
Exactly, Scott thought. He never remembered there being a light on in Joe’s flat when he was out.
Why tonight? The question rolled around in Scott’s mind, but no answer came with it.
Scott’s blood grew colder, until it was barely fluid enough to flow through his veins. “I th-think…” he finally managed to say. “I th-think you might have been r-r-robbed while we were at the c-club, s-sir.”
* * * * *
Joe stared down at Scott for several seconds, wondering where the hell that had come from.
He’d known for months that Scott was the type to worry about anything and everything in the universe.
But really, panicking about the possibly inadequate security in a flat that he hadn’t even moved into yet was…
Joe thoughts died a very slow painful death as he traced Scott’s line of sight and spotted the light shining beneath the front door. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know enough swear words to fit the situation.
“Everything’s fine,” Joe said first, in an instinctive effort to comfort Scott.
Scott’s shoulders remained tensed. Even in the dim hallway light, it was easy to see the worry in his eyes.
Joe reached out and rattled the door handle. “See, it’s still locked. I must have just forgotten to switch off the light when I left. No big deal.”
Scott followed him into the flat without a word, but his gaze darted into every corner; checking for missing items, or perhaps for lingering intruders.
Joe led the way straight to the bedroom, determined to get the sequence of events he’d planned out back on track as soon as possible.
Scott’s footsteps followed Joe’s for a little way, but suddenly fell silent halfway to the bedroom.
Joe turned just in time to see Scott reach for the handle on the living room door.
“No!”
Scott froze, his hand hovering mid-air. He looked toward Joe, but quickly dropped his gaze. “May I just ch-check very quickly, s-sir?” he asked.
Joe kept his face expressionless through sheer force of will. “There’s no need.”
Scott didn’t move his hand toward the door, but he didn’t snatch it away either.
“What do you think I’ve got that’s worth stealing, anyway?” Joe asked. He aimed for a light-hearted tone, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. Tonight was important, damn it, and he had a plan.
Scott made no reply. He’d back down if Joe ordered him to—Joe was certain of it. And, at the same time, Scott would learn that he’d been wrong to trust his master with a request that was obviously important to him.
Shit!
“S-s-something feels off, s-sir,” Scott said, softly. “I know I’m probably j-j-just being silly, b-but…” But will you humour me anyway, sir. Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important to me.
It was what Scott didn’t say, that he wasn’t yet sure enough of Joe’s love to say, that convinced Joe to abandon all his carefully laid out plans.
He joined Scott by the living room door. Rather than give him permission, Joe opened the door for him. Reaching inside, he switched on the light. Even when the room was fully illuminated, Joe didn’t look inside. His attention rested squarely on Scott.
Scott’s expression didn’t change as his eyes travelled slowly from one point within the room to another. Finally, his gaze stilled and he peered down at the floor just in front of his feet as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
“Scott?” Joe prompted.
“You b-bought a sofa, s-sir.”
“Yes.”
Scott nibbled lightly at his bottom lip. “It’s n-n-nice.”
Joe studied him more ferociously than ever. The sofa was a battered old leather thing, twenty years out of style but still as comfy as hell. He didn’t give a damn if Scott thought it was nice or not. “Notice anything else that’s different in there?”
Scott’s teeth bit down harder this time. When he released his lip, he took a deep breath. It obviously wasn’t the sofa that was freaking him out. “There are quite a f-few b-b-boxes in there, s-sir.”
“Boxes?” Joe asked.
“All the b-boxes from my p-p-place,” Scott finally specified.
“Yes.” Joe didn’t dare blink in case he failed to spot some flicker of emotion from Scott—he couldn’t afford to miss any clues.
“You b-b-brought them here, s-sir.”
“Yes,” Joe said again.
There was still no way to tell if Scott was about to completely freak out or not. Joe watched. He waited. There was nothing else he could do. Dominance didn’t mean a damn thing in that situation. Everything rested with Scott.
“W-when?” Scott eventually asked.
“I lifted your key from your coat pocket when you got changed. Frank and Tony went to your place to get them while we were at the club. They’re good guys. I’d trust them with my life.”
Scott nodded, very slightly.
“Your things wouldn’t have been safer with a police escort.”
Another nod.
Joe resisted the urge to yell out at the top of his lungs through pure frustration; or, to demand Scott give him any sort of verdict before he was ready.
Scott reached up and hooked his fingers through his collar. He whispered something under his breath. The only word Joe caught was “real.”
“What did you say?” he demanded, unable to make the question sound anything like a polite enquiry.
Scott blinked. He turned to look up at Joe. “This is r-real, isn’t it, s-sir?” he said. “It’s really h-h-happening. You really want me to m-move in with you. You r-really g-gave me a c-c-collar.”
“Yes.”
Scott didn’t say anything, but he no longer needed to. His smile told Joe everything he needed to know. Joe let out the breath he’d held for damn near the whole conversation.
“You’re really mine,” Joe confirmed, his confidence once more sky high.
Scott turned to face Joe properly. He took a step toward him. There was no nervousness in him, no sign that he wasn’t completely sure of Joe’s acceptance of him.
Another half step forward, and Scott was in Joe’s arms. It would have been perfect if there hadn’t been a stupid amount of fabric between them. Leather was all well and good, but it shouldn’t have been allowed to separate skin from skin.
Capturing Scott’s lips in a kiss that demanded nothing less than complete submission, Joe walked Scott backward into the living room. Scott reached up and wrapped his arms around Joe’s neck, accepting every decision Joe made as if nothing could ever feel more natural to him.
Sofa. Skin. Sex.
Joe had done everything he could to make Scott feel wanted and safe.
Now, it was time to get on with the rest of the night’s activities.
Joe had to direct them to the sofa, get rid of their clothes, and find the skin beneath.
Then, finally, blessedly, they’d be allowed to screw each other without any concerns or uncertainties hanging over their heads.
Joe had only taken a few steps when he realised that he should have specified that the guys should stack the boxes on the other side of the room. A whole obstacle course now existed between where they stood and the sofa.
Breaking the kiss for a moment, Joe looked over his shoulder toward the bedroom; his nice, familiar bedroom with all his toys within easy reach, and with a completely clear access route.
No. That space was still all about him; it would take time to change that. The sofa was going to be about them right from the start, and they were bloody well going to have sex on it tonight.
“S-sir?” Scott asked. The why the hell have you stopped kissing me part of the question remained unsaid, but it hung in the air nevertheless.
“Do you trust me?” Joe asked Scott.
“Yes, sir.” He didn’t even stutter on the S.
“Good. Hold on to that thought.”
* * * * *