DJ skipped ahead of Rake into the locker room, oblivious to the direction of Rake’s thoughts. “How do you want me, Sir?” DJ asked, already stripping out of his hoodie.
“Down to your shorts for now, sweetheart.”
Rake stood with his arms folded as DJ tore off his clothing piece by piece. Happy once DJ had followed his instruction, Rake took off his own shirt and jacket, remaining in his dark jeans and Doc Martens.
DJ bounced on the balls of his feet as Rake opened a locker to put their clothing away. He hung up his items on the provided hangers and stepped back before DJ chucked his clothing in.
“Not folding your clothes?” Rake asked, giving DJ an unamused look.
DJ peered into the locker with a frown, as if he didn’trecall what he’d just done. “You didn’t tell me to keep them neat, Sir.”
Rake exhaled through his nose. “When we get home, I’m going to make you fold every single piece of clothing you have waiting to be put away.”
“God, you really are a sadist.”
“Mm-hmm. You’ll be appreciating my sadism soon.”
“Promise, Sir?” DJ asked, grinning.
“Promise.” Rake drew him into a deep kiss, not breaking them apart until he felt breathless. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked.
DJ nodded. Rake led him back out to the main room. He enjoyed how DJ’s eyes darted to every piece of equipment, no doubt wondering where they would stop. Whilst they negotiated all scenes to a certain extent, it was the general acts they discussed, not the specifics. All DJ knew was that the scene would have some form of restraint, involve full nudity, mild pain play and edging. Only Rake knew the details beyond that.
As they walked past a couple of women using the spanking bench, Rake caught a flash of ginger hair over near the entrance. He homed in on Shaun, who sat alone at the bar. Shaun looked right back at him, shooting a small smile in his direction. So innocent in a room filled with grunts and the slap of flesh hitting flesh.
Rake managed a smile for Shaun when he saw that Lawrence was nowhere in sight. Shaun still had his collar on, however. It made Rake fume. No sub should wear the collar of a man who didn’t deserve the honour.
“Shaun,” DJ said under his breath.
“He looks like he’s alone tonight,” Rake said.
Mischief glinted in DJ’s eyes. “Thank fuck, Sir.”
Rake sighed. “Just for that, you’re going to suffer even more for me.” He paused. “Not too much, though, because I agree with your sentiment.”
“Worth it.”
They arrived at their destination: the St. Andrew’s Cross. It stood on a short platform that would leave DJ exposed. Shaun would get a clear view from the bar. Rake couldn’t have planned it more perfectly if he’d tried.
“Back to the cross, DJ,” he instructed.
DJ dutifully got into position, his chest rising and falling as he took deep, steady breaths.
Rake readied the in-built cuffs at the top of the padded beams. “Safe word, sweetheart?”
“Red,” DJ confirmed.
As Rake buckled DJ into the restraints, his fingertips brushed the inside of DJ’s wrists, his skin there as soft as velvet. Rake didn’t miss DJ’s shiver as he tightened the buckles, or when he ran a finger between the leather and DJ’s skin, checking their tightness.
When Rake stepped back, DJ’s gaze was fixed in the distance. A glance confirmed that Shaun hadn’t taken his eyes off of them. A few others in the room spectated, but Shaun’s attention felt different. Weightier, and more meaningful. Like Shaun waspartof their scene, not only an observer.
“I’m going to pull your shorts down,” Rake said, fingers skimming around DJ’s waist. He appreciated the heft of DJ’s thick belly, with its trail of tightly curled dark hair that led down to his cock. Rake lingered there, showing DJ howmuch he enjoyed touching him—how he loved the parts of DJ that DJ didn’t love himself.
“Thank you, Sir,” DJ said, sucking in a sharp breath as Rake hooked a couple of fingers inside the waistband of the shorts.
“And you’re not going to come until I tell you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
