Chapter 6
six
. . .
Taking Nikky Smith shopping for fetishware appropriate for a place like Crushed was the most fun Harry’d had in ages.
“We’ll grab a bite to eat while we’re shopping,” he told Nikky as they walked to the Tube station nearest the studio, “but trust me, you’re not going to want to go to a place like we’re going to with a full stomach.”
“Is it that intense?” Nikky asked as they headed down an escalator and into the busy underground world of London’s transportation system.
Harry laughed instead of answering, partly to increase Nikky’s anticipation and partly because it was a spot-on question to ask.
Harry wasn’t entirely sure what had given him the idea to take someone as young and probably na?ve, not to mention famous, as Nikky to what he could only describe as a BDSM dance club.
Crushed had an uninhibited atmosphere. It was dark, edgy, and unapologetic about what went on there besides dancing.
He hung out there maybe once a month, when he needed a big distraction to feel free from the life he had and the life he’d wanted but had never quite reached.
He didn’t know what Nikky would make of it, though.
But first, they needed to go shopping so Nikky could dress the part.
“Um, should I ask more questions about what sort of club we’re going to if this is what you think I should wear?
” Nikky asked with a cheeky grin as he stepped out of the miniscule changing room in the shocking boutique.
He held out his arms and looked down at the skin-tight leather trousers, sparkly mesh crop top that showed off his toned torso, and silver belt with several metal loops that could be hooked to just about anything or used to lead him around.
Harry grinned wickedly, his mouth watering a little too much at the image Nikky presented all dressed up as a super sub. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Nikky answered, a touch of hesitation and questioning in his earnest eyes.
“Then trust me,” Harry said, stepping close to Nikky and smacking his leather-clad bubble butt playfully. “You’re gonna have a great time.”
Nikky blushed beautifully, looking even more fresh and innocent than he had dressed in ordinary street clothes.
The aim might have been to make Nikky look like something other than the golden boy everyone thought he was, but dressed up like a juicy snack waiting to be devoured, he looked exactly like the role everyone wanted him to play, just twisted a little.
“You’re almost ready,” he said, shifting over to a counter full of collars, cuffs, and other jewelry. “We just need to accessorize a little.”
Nikky trusted Harry way more than Harry had ever or would ever trust anyone else.
Harry tried out various collars and bracelets on him to see what completed the look he was going for.
He definitely shouldn’t have been having as much fun as he was dressing up everyone’s favorite new superstar like he would spend his evening on his hands and knees, licking the boots of burly, sweaty men at the club.
In fact, he detested the idea of Nikky on his knees for anyone.
Except maybe him.
He shook his head to clear away those thoughts.
They didn’t quite fit anyhow. Nikky might not have been the sweet and glowing ray of sunshine everyone seemed to think he was, but he wasn’t a self-loathing sub either.
He was something else entirely, and Harry couldn’t wait to discover what that might be.
They left the fetishware shop with Nikky dressed in his new digs.
Harry kept an eye on him, studying him to see if he would shrink away from the stares of the public as they headed to a takeaway place to grab a bite to eat, then ventured on to the club itself.
Nikky was quiet as they ate and seemed turned in on himself a bit, like he was getting into a new role for some kinky film.
It was fascinating to watch the way his posture shifted, the way his eyes grew more serious, and the way his entire face changed as he adopted the new persona.
All of those physical character changes might have been the reason why, for the first time that Harry had been out and about in London with Nikky, no one stopped them or did a doubletake or waved like they were close personal friends.
Nearly everyone walked right past them like they were nobody, except a few not-so-subtle men who ate up the sight of Nikky, tipping their cards about what they liked in the bedroom.
Crushed was tucked away in the middle of a much busier area of the city.
Anyone who didn’t know it was there would probably walk right past it to the much trendier nightclub in the next building, where a line had already formed that stretched partway down the street.
There was no line for Crushed, just a massive, bare-chested doorman wearing a leather harness standing next to a black door with his arms crossed.
“Hey, Freddy,” Harry waved and nodded to the man as he approached the door.
“Bayonne,” Freddy greeted him in return, then nodded to Nikky. “Is he underage?”
“I’m twenty-five,” Nikky answered with a touch of defensiveness that Harry never would have guessed he had in him. But if what he’d heard about actors finding their characters once they had their costume on was true, Nikky was probably deep in his own world.
“I can vouch for him,” Harry told Freddy.
Freddy grinned in a way that made him look less like a medieval executioner and more like the teddy bear he was and said, “I know who he is.” He turned to Nikky and said, “I loved you in Cooked.” The way Freddy swept Nikky’s body with a hungry look told Harry just which scenes from the steamy show Freddy had liked best.
“Thanks,” Nikky said, smiling briefly, then slamming back into character.
Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
The night was already shaping up to be a ton of fun.
And if all went well, it would be exactly the photo op Nikky needed to cause a scandal on social media.
What diehard fan of Hollywood’s latest golden boy wouldn’t balk at dark, grainy pictures of him living it up at a seedy gay BDSM club?
That was the whole point of the night’s adventure, but as soon as they made their way into the heart of the basement venue, things veered off course.
The brash, flashing lights and bass of the dance music that blared from speakers placed all over the room throbbed its way into Harry’s gut and cock.
Most of the men dancing and gyrating to the savage beat were shirtless, and some trouserless and wearing nothing but thongs or jockstraps.
Heat permeated the place, and the scent of sweat and sin was thick in the air.
“You gonna be okay?” Harry asked, glancing sideways at Nikky as he took in the heaving motion of the club and its black-lit ambience.
Nikky’s expression had widened out of the serious, borderline hard look he’d worked himself into as they’d entered the club.
Now he looked around like he was seeing art for the first time.
His gaze didn’t settle long on one thing.
He drank in the sweaty bodies of the dancers, the pair of twinks festooned in chains who danced in matching cages near the front of the room and seemed to be seconds away from orgasm, and the mini playtimes that were taking place in some of the darker corners of the room.
Those play scenes gave Harry pause. Some nights people got more into the BDSM aspect of the club than the dancing.
Tonight appeared to be one of those nights.
Through the crowd of dancers, Harry could just make out a guy strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross at the far end of the room who was being flogged by a massive man wearing a leather hood and mask, his bare, barrel chest gleaming with sweat.
It wasn’t what he would have chosen for Nikky to see right off the bat, but it would help to dent Nikky’s image if Harry could get a few pics for social media with that in the background.
“What are you curious about?” he asked Nikky, nearly shouting to be heard over the thumping music.
“Everything,” Nikky told him in return, gaze still sweeping the room.
Harry couldn’t keep his smile inside. His idea was definitely going to work.
Nikky already swayed slightly, like he was itching to get involved in the club’s activity.
All of it. They would dance for a while, he’d take a bunch of pictures, and then head out to someplace a little quieter so the two of them could get to know each other better.
And who knew? Maybe they could take a few make-out pics to really drive the point home that Nikky wasn’t what Dean Albion wanted to force him to be.
“Can I dance?” Nikky asked, dragging his wide-eyed gaze away from the activity all around the room to look hopefully at Harry.
Harry clapped a hand on Nikky’s shoulder. “You can do whatever you want, baby,” he said. “You’re twenty-five, after all.”
Nikky burst into a sheepish smile that was every bit as bright and beautiful as the image the world wanted to have of him, then stepped away from Harry and into the edge of the dancers.
He blended seamlessly with the swaying, moving men who immediately turned to him and fell all over themselves to grind against him.
Flashing jealousy warred with the arousal Harry felt at the sight.
Any gay man with blood pumping through his veins would be turned on by Nikky.
He was perfection on so many levels and sexy as hell once he got over the crippling anxiety Harry was beginning to see was as much a part of his personality as the star power.
It was encouraging to see Nikky embrace whatever fun and adventurous part of himself was willing to let go and throw himself into the new experience.