Chapter 19
Tommy
Walking into the club with Young-gi is a totally different experience than it was when I came with Kira. Firstly, Young-gi is mean-mugging everyone, staring them down, and I think Duke, the doorman, actually squeaked with anxiety when he waved us in, letting us skip the line.
“I’m not used to being the guest,” Young-gi comments after Billy gives us a once-over, tells me to stay out of trouble this time, and lets us pass the ID check. “Usually, I’m the VIP taking guests past lines. This is new. A little amusing.”
I can’t help my grin, feeling stupidly good about doing something for Young-gi that no one has done before. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. This is the only place I matter.”
His heavy hand on my shoulder stops me in my tracks and I recall the taste of soap. With a wrinkled nose, I correct myself. “Fine, sorry. I meant this is the only place I get VIP treatment.”
“Not anymore,” he comments ominously, brushing past me and leading the way to the booths like he’s the one who belongs here, instead of me. “You’re a Sokolov now. Plenty of doors are going to open for you.”
I can’t say anything to that. Can’t acknowledge it. I just keep my lips sealed as he sits my ass down in the booth and lifts his hand in an elegant call for the passing waitress.
“Two waters,” he commands, and she scurries off with a nod, even though waters aren’t bottle-service and she should be telling him he needs to get something that actually costs money if he wants someone to wait on his table.
Hm, seems like everyone can tell he’s not to be fucked with.
Except by me, of course. I tsk my tongue. “I’d actually like a real drink, so–”
“You’re getting water.” His tone allows for no argument. But I do anyway. Because I’m built different.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not letting you mix party drugs with alcohol.”
“Oh, come on, it’s poppers. They last like three minutes, max, and they work better when I’m a little buzzed anyway.”
He just stares at me. I stare back, until I eventually blow out a gusty sigh of disappointment. “Fine.”
“We can just go home, if you’d like to complain.”
“No, no!” I interject quickly. “No, not complaining. Me? Nope. Hey, I think I see Maggie. Maggie!”
Young-gi is too badass to flinch or wince, but his eyes narrow when I scream at the top of my lungs, trying to be heard over the loud, thumping music.
“Maggie! Mags! Hey, Mags! Maggie, over here! Hey!” I stand and wave my arms around. “Maggie!”
Young-gi reaches up, grips my shirt, and yanks me down into the bench seat beside him. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“Only a little,” I admit, a bit breathless from our sudden proximity.
Of course, his stern glare and little rebuking head shake is just a reminder of why I’m here, why I need to be here, because he makes my dick twitch just by laying down the law, and that’s not fair.
I need to get some fucking relief, get some of this pressure out of me, let off some steam.
Because shit, at this rate, I might actually die of blue balls.
“I’ll just go to him.” I squirm out of his hold, but hesitate, standing beside him as he looks up at me.
Not sure why. I just… do.
He raises an eyebrow, looks around, and then settles back in the booth like it’s a throne. He’s looking fine as hell in a tight black shirt and black pants, like a brooding vampire slash incubus nightmare, here to prey on the stupid victims who are hypnotized by his raw sexual magnetism.
Me, I’m talking about me, I’m the idiot that’s been hypnotized. And I need to cum so bad I might cry. How embarrassing.
“Go on, Tommy.” He gives me the permission I didn’t realize I was waiting for. I scowl down at him when I realize that, but he’s got more to say. “But come back here, and dance where I can see you. Right near this edge of the floor. I’m keeping my eyes on you, young man.”
I shiver, because that’s what he calls me when he’s bringing out the Daddy stuff, the stuff he seems to not even realize is Daddy stuff, the shit that’s got me in this blue-ball predicament in the first place.
“Anything else, Your Highness?” I sass.
“Yes,” he answers seriously, like I actually wanted more rules. “You get three poppers tonight. That’s it. No more.”
I wait, but he doesn’t give me an ‘or else’. So I ask for one. “What will you do if I take more?”
“You won’t have to find out,” he says, leaning forward. He beckons me closer and I lean down to hear him better as he lowers his voice. “Because you’re going to be a good boy and follow the rules, aren’t you?”
He phrases it as a question, but he makes it sound like a statement. I swallow hard and back up.
“We’ll see,” I cough out, because I can’t just agree to be good for him, that’s too… fucked up. He’s not my Daddy, not really, and I need him to stop acting like it.
I storm off, heading for Maggie and his group at the bar, where they’re deep in a gossip session.
The whole gang is here: Sam, Jules, Ry, and even Georgie.
He doesn’t seem too worse for wear despite what happened, and is sipping a fruity drink while avidly listening to Ry regale the group with some dramatic story.
My mouth waters, the drink looking damn good and my blood asking me for a little buzz, but I’ve been told not to drink alcohol tonight, and I did kind of agree to follow Young-gi’s rules in exchange for him letting me get high. I gave my word, so… fine. I’ll be good.
Not because he told me to, but because I don’t go back on my word once I’ve given it. Alright? I’ll be good because I said I would, not because I want to please him or anything stupid like that.
“Hey, guys.” I lean into their circle with a smile. Relief is close at hand.
“Tommy?!” Mags jumps off his stool and throws himself into my hug. “Holy shit! I thought you were in jail! How the fuck did you get out already?!”
“A friend bailed me out,” I admit, both thrilled and horrified that it’s true.
“Wow, must be a good friend,” Sam comments suggestively. “Was it Daddy Bruce?”
It’s a good guess, because Bruce is probably the only other person in the universe who would do that for me–but not because he wants me.
Not because he wants to tell me the blood on my knuckles was good.
No, he’d want to do it so he could rescue me, tame me, soften me.
He wants a different version of me, some Tommy that might’ve existed in another timeline, but one that isn’t really here.
“Nah, it’s someone new,” I say, then push on quickly because these guys can smell juicy news from a mile away. “I need some help tonight, are you guys down to give it to me?”
“Oh, I thought you’d never ask!” Maggie crows, dancing on his toes. He gives me a once over, humming appreciatively at the untucked crewneck shirt and elastic-lined pants. “Not as cute as last time, that tank top looked great on you, but I can work with this, babe. You prepared?”
He slides a hand boldly down my crotch and I laughingly push it away. “Yeah, fucker, I planned ahead.”
AKA, I wore a jock strap, because coming straight into my pants is not a great idea. The jock keeps my erection from tenting my pants too badly, and catches all the spunk. A win-win. Real classy, I know, but needs must. I’m too desperate to even care at this point.
“What do you mean, help you?” Georgie asks, putting his drink down and following me as Maggie drags me toward the light-up floor. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“Tommy’s got a little issue,” Sam leans in, speaking right in his ear to be heard over the music here. “We’re gonna–”
I can’t hear the rest, but Georgie’s eyes get bigger and bigger, and then he looks up at me as if seeking confirmation.
I shrug, nod, and try to smile but I’m sure it comes out more like a grimace.
It’s humiliating. These guys don’t use it against me, they help me out when I need it, but it still sucks that I need them for this at all.
But Sam, Jules, and Ry are already on board, surrounding me on the dance floor and writhing to the beat.
Georgie bites his lip, but nods at me gently and joins Ry.
“You want Molly, babe?” Maggie asks, his lips brushing my ear, his body plastering to mine. “I’ve got sextacy, too.”
I groan and lean my head on his slim shoulder. “Why are you tempting me like this?”
“Tempting you?” He laughs, pushing my head up, bringing my hands to his lithe hips as he sways. “You can have it.”
“Poppers only tonight,” I huff. “The easy stuff. You got any?”
“Jules!” Maggie grabs his friend. “Poppers.”
Jules fishes a few tiny glass bottles out of his deep pockets and hands them over to me with a wink. I only take three, and pass the rest back to him firmly. He frowns in confusion. “Only three? Are you sure they’ll last long enough to get you there?”
“I’ll just dance a little first,” I say anxiously.
“Loosen up a bit, you know? I don’t need it to last long, I just need it to…
” Finish me off. It’s too embarrassing to say it out loud, surrounded by strangers.
Sure, everybody here is drunk and I can barely hear these guys even when they shout into my ear, but still. I’m not trying to advertise my issues.
Against my will, I find myself glancing toward Young-gi.
When Maggie brought me out here, I subtly moved our group toward his end of the room, and while I’m not right in front of him or anything, I’m definitely in his line of sight.
He’s illuminated in shades of moody blue at his booth, staring straight at me, his arms spread across the back of his rounded bench seat.
Two water bottles sit on the table in front of him, and knowing he got one for me is weirdly… touching.
“Let’s dance,” I say, shaking my head and turning away from him. “I want to get in the right headspace.”
“Foreplay, you got it, babe,” Maggie laughs, and I stuff the bottles into my pocket as we get started.