He sounded so much happier now than he had while trying to explain his relatively toy-less status. Joe smiled to himself—he was the one who’d made Scott feel that way. Pride at that simple accomplishment gave Joe a moment of pleasure, but it didn’t last long. As they arrived on Scott’s street, Joe had no choice but to focus his entire mind on making this evening go well.
A lucky parking space meant they only had to walk a short distance, but Joe didn’t take his eyes off Scott for a second. He only managed to stop short of grabbing hold of Scott’s wrist and marching him down the street like a criminal who’d just been arrested, because he knew he didn’t have the right to manhandle him right then.
By the time they got to Scott’s room, Joe’s patience was at breaking point. The memory of the first time he’d visited Scott there took over. The door barely clicked shut before Joe had Scott pressed back against it.
Scott tensed and Joe immediately stilled, dreading that Scott intended to tell him to get out, that he’d changed his mind about them getting together that night.
Another second passed; neither of them even dared to breathe. Then, very slowly, Scott relaxed against the door. He dropped his head back against the peeling paintwork.
He blinked, almost sleepily. He smiled.
Joe smiled back at him, relief making his mind spin. “Until I leave this room, you’re mine.”
Scott nodded his perfect willingness to go along with that idea.
Lifting one hand, Joe ran his fingers through Scott’s hair, pushing it back from his face. He didn’t try to make his touch artificially gentle. There didn’t seem to be any point, not when Scott instantly tried to force himself up onto his toes and rub his scalp against Joe’s fingers all the more firmly.
He seemed to need an even firmer hold than usual that night. Joe tightened his grip on Scott’s hair as he dipped his head and brought their lips together.
Fierce or gentle? Warring factions battled inside Joe as he tried to work out the best way forward. Were things ever what they seemed with Scott? Was what Scott wanted the same as what he needed?
Pulling back after the briefest kiss they’d ever shared, Joe stared down at Scott. “How thin are your walls?” he demanded.
“My w-what?” Scott said, frowning as he leaned forward in an attempt to recapture the kiss.
“The walls,” Joe repeated, leaning back to make sure there was no way for Scott to get that kiss until he allowed it. Letting go of Scott’s hair, Joe slammed his hand against the plasterwork alongside the door. “How thin are they?”
“Quite th-th-thin, I g-guess…” His eyes pleaded with Joe to tell him that was okay; that he wasn’t displeased with him for someone else’s choice of building materials over a century ago.
“How much do you care about someone overhearing us doing a scene?” Joe asked next. He studied Scott’s eyes very carefully.
“I d-don’t care at all, s-s-sir. We can d-do anything you w-want.” Scott licked his lips. His eyes confirmed that everything his mouth had uttered was true.
There was no need for Joe to ask any other questions. “Naked, on your bed, now.”
“Yes, s-sir.”
Scott scrambled out from the small space between Joe’s body and the door. For several seconds, Joe remained exactly where he was, one hand still pressed against the wall. The thing might be relatively thin, but it wasn’t some flimsy bit of plasterboard. It was Victorian brick. Joe glanced at the wall. Hehadn’t damaged the plasterwork, but he’d made his entire fist throb.
Behind him, Joe heard Scott rushing around. Then came silence. Joe turned. Scott sat naked on the very edge of the bed, his cock erect, his eyes uncertain.
“On your hands and knees, face the headboard.”
Scott twisted around, so eager to please, so responsive to Joe’s every order. Joe stopped alongside the bed and stripped off his own clothes. Never taking his eyes off Scott, he tossed everything he wore onto the floor around him.
Scott was so bloody beautiful. Even after all the scenes they’d played together, he still took Joe’s breath away and stole a part of his mind every time they were together.
Joe knelt on the bed, facing Scott’s side. As he sat back on his heels and made himself comfortable, he saw Scott risk a glance in his direction.
“S-sir?”
Joe placed his hand, very lightly, on Scott’s arse. The skin was so pale it was hard to believe it had ever been spanked, but Joe knew better.
The sound, the warmth that had spread through his palm, Scott’s reactions— every detail about Scott’s first spanking was deeply embedded within Joe’s mind. He was almost ready to swear he could feel Scott’s body moving back and forth across his lap as he lost himself in the memory.
“Please, s-sir,” Scott whispered.
Joe met Scott’s eyes. Maybe Scott had been telling the truth when he’d said he didn’t know what he needed in order to feel safe and secure under Joe’s protection for the rest of his life. But, right then and there, Joe knew exactly what they both needed, and he saw the same knowledge reflected in Scott’s gaze.
