I laughed. “Y’serious?”
“Deadly,like.”
I looked at him for a moment, weighing up my options. Whilst I didn’t want him to go and didn’t want to hang about like a spare prick in his gaff neither, I alsoreallywanted to spend the night with John-Francis again. I eventually rubbed the back of my neck with a heavy sigh.
“Fine. I’ll wait f’ya, but ya’d best be quick, aye?”
John-Francis smiled at me, making my stomach flip over. He leant in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to my lips.
“Ya’d best be believin’ I’ll be racin’ ta get back here, like. Feckin’ desperate f’ya.” He grabbed my hand, pressing it against his crotch. His cock was still hard, and I felt my own stir in response.
“A’right,” I muttered, jerking my head to a small television mounted on the wall. “That workin’?”
John-Francis grabbed the remote from the side, throwing it to me. He grinned, shoving his hand down the front of his jeans to rearrange himself before pointing a finger at me.
“Stay put. I’d be right back ‘fore y’know it, now.”
I simply wriggled myself back up the bed, propping up the pillows behind my back and turning my attention to the television. The door slammed behind John-Francis as he left, and even over the roaring rain I could hear him swearing as he headed out into the wild weather.
As soon as I heard the rumble of his van’s engine disappear, I released a heavy sigh. My head flopped back against the pillows, and I stared at the screen vacantly, not really watching whatever garbage show I’d put on.
I had a rare moment of privacy here inside John-Francis’s caravan and though I told myself I should just stay on the bed and watch TV until he returned, my curiosity won out in the end. I eased myself up off the bed and began opening drawers and cupboards. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for exactly, but I was eager to learn more about my handsome companion.
There was nothing out of the ordinary. The kitchen was full of utensils, though I noted most of them were brand new and unused – someone wasn’t much of acook, it seemed. The wardrobe had a decent selection of outfits, some of which I’d already seen on John-Francis. I dug through the hangers, pushing them aside as I surveyed the clothes. It smelt like him in here and without thinking, I reached out and grabbed a handful of clothes before burying my nose in them.
As I nudged the clothes aside, a small tin caught my eye. It wasn’t hidden, and yet something about the way it had been tucked away down behind a shoebox made me curious. I knelt down and grabbed it, cautiously easing the lid off.
Inside was all sorts of trinkets and jewellery – women’s stuff. It looked just like the stuff my ma wore, and I realised with a start that this must have belonged to John-Francis’s own ma. Buried underneath, the glossy surface of a photograph caught my eye, and I carefully eased it out. It was of a woman and a wain. There was no doubt that was John-Francis and his ma. They looked so happy… it was a pity the way it had all turned out. I placed everything back into the tin before returning it to where I found it.
My search continued and when I tugged open a drawer beside the bed, I wasn’t at all surprised to find a box of johnnies and lube. I knew first-hand thatthosewere in there, but as I dug deeper inside the draw, I found a baggie of what looked to be cocaine and several pills. I ran my tongue over my teeth. I hadn’t seen John-Francis using again since that first night we’d met, but this gave me pause. Did he have a wee bit more of a problem than I’d realised? Recreational drug use was one thing, but a drug habit was quite another. I dropped the bags back into the drawer, my eyes drawn to some other interesting items.
“The feck…” I muttered, snatching up a rolled-up plastic bag, tucked right down at the back of the drawer. I unfurled it, glancing inside with a laugh. “Jaysus, he’d be a real-life Mr Grey.”
I pulled out a studded leather harness and a pair of cuffs with a smirk. Both were new with tags, I noticed and when I scooped up a receipt from the bottom of the bag, I frowned. It was dated several years before. He’d bought these and never used them? I wondered if he even remembered they were there.
With a grin, I dragged my t-shirt off over my head. I snapped the tag off the harness and after lifting it this way and that, trying to get my head around how it went on, I shrugged into it. It was a bit tight but thankfully had several adjustmentpoints and soon enough I was snapping the clasp closed over my breastbone. I strode to the wardrobe, pushing the door open to reveal the full-length mirror attached to the inside and took a moment to appraise myself.
“Shite, it actually looks kinda hot,” I muttered, turning myself this way and that. Something about the soft, black leather wrapped over my tattoos and muscular chest set my pulse racing. I wondered what John-Francis would have to say about it.
I wandered back to the bed and sat on the edge, fiddling with the set of cuffs. They weren’t silly pretend ones, that much was for certain – no fluffy bits or ribbons. These were the real deal, made from cold, hard steel. I flicked them open and closed, learning how they worked.
I’d been so preoccupied, I hadn’t been keeping an eye on the time and when I heard gravel crunching loudly beneath tyres just outside the caravan, my heart began to pound. I hurriedly grabbed the lube and johnnies, setting them on the side and stuffed the empty bag and tags back into the drawer before closing it.
With shaking hands, I flicked the television to mute and hit the lights, only the dim glow of the screen lighting the place. There were voices outside now, though I couldn’t make out what was being said. I dragged my jeans off, kicking them away until I was just in my boxers and my new harness, before clambering onto the bed and shoved the cuffs under the pillows. I lay back, just where I’d been when John-Francis left me and waited for him to return with blood pounding in my ears.
The door flew open and John-Francis bounded up the steps and inside. He was soaked to the skin, his t-shirt glued to his torso and I licked my lower lip.
“Feckin’ pissin’ it down out there,” he grumbled. “I tell ya, Declan owes me big—”
I fought to keep from laughing as John-Francis’s voice caught in his throat. He stared at me through the dim light, frozen in place.
“Hope ya don’t mind that I borrowed this,” I muttered with a grin. “Thought I’d grab the johnnies an’ that, an’ found a wee outfit as well, like.”
John-Francis remained silent, still gazing at me. I couldn’t read him at all, and my mouth grew dry. He was either going to fuck me or kill me, and I really didn’tknow which he would land on. Just as I was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to move or say something, John-Francis grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and peeled it off. It hit the floor with a slap, sodden and heavy with rainwater, but he paid it no mind. Those intense, steely eyes were fixed on me, and it made me feel lightheaded.
“Y’like it?” I asked, voice low. As he stalked towards the bed, I forced myself to keep calm and slowly spread my thighs apart. My cock was already swiftly hardening in anticipation, and it pulsed beneath the stretchy material of my boxers.
“I’d forgotten all ‘bout that wee harness. I’d picked it up years ago, like,” John-Francis eventually said, though it was more akin to a growl. “Always wondered why I’d bothered an’ why I couldn’t bring myself ta chuck it out.”
