Dipping his head, Joe whispered in Scott’s ear. “In a certain kind of club, it doesn’t look good to have everyone behind the bar drinking lemonade all night. That doesn’t mean the staff are allowed to get sloshed on the job.”
Scott nodded his understanding and took another sip of his carefully disguised soft drink.
“Good boy,” Joe whispered into his ear. “I want you clear-headed for what will come later. If you’re good, that just might involve you coming.”
* * * * *
Scott took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was so easy for Joe to say that the drink would cool his nerves, but there wasno way the chilled lemonade could compete with the way Joe’s muscular frame was pressed tightly against his back.
Scott took another swig of his beer-bottle-lemonade. Its fizziness did nothing to stop his erection straining painfully against the inside of the crazily tight leather trousers Joe had given him. Nothing would ever be cold enough to stop Joe being able to make Scott feel hot and bothered whenever he wanted.
“What do you think of the club?” Joe asked.
“It’s int-t-teresting, sir,” Scott said. He dipped his voice on the last word.
“There’s no need to be discrete, sweetheart,” Joe told him with a chuckle. “Everyone here understands why one man calls another sir. Everyone respects it.”
Slowly lifting his gaze from his drink, Scott took his first real look at the club. No one paid them the least bit of attention. Men stood around, chatting and getting friendly with each other. Most of them wore a certain amount of leather. Some wore collars, too—submissives of all shapes, sizes, and ages.
Gay. Kinky. Both were par for the course. There was nothing special about his relationship with Joe—nothing an outsider would be able to see, at least.
Scott tilted his head slightly to one side.
“They all understand what it means to be a sub or a dom,” Joe went on.
In the background, music played. The beat pounded through the air. Joe’s hard-on rubbed against Scott’s arse every time Joe moved his hips in time with the beat. It made it damn difficult for Scott to think.
“It’s safe for you to be yourself here, and your collar means no one will lay a hand on you,” Joe pressed a kiss against Scott’s neck. “Except me, of course.”
“Yes, s-sir.” Scott made a point of not whispering his response. He over-compensated. It came out far louder than heintended. Damn! Scott dipped his head as heat rushed to his checks.
“Say it as loud as you like. Shout it at the top of your voice. That’s fine, too,” Joe promised.
Scott took a hasty sip of his drink.
“What are you supposed to do if you feel nervous?” Joe asked, speaking his words softly against Scott’s earlobe.
The collar. Scott lifted his hand and hooked his fingers around the silver links. They brushed against something that he hadn’t noticed before. Some sort of tag?
Craning his neck, Scott tried to peer down and see what it was.
“You can look at it in the mirror when we get home.”
When we get home.
It was a simple thing for a Joe to say, but such a wonderful thing for Scott to hear. He had a home now, and it was with Joe. Scott closed his eyes and leaned more comfortably into Joe’s embrace. There was no actual need for them to go to Joe’s flat; Joe was home to him.
All thought of the tag on his collar slipped from Scott’s mind. He floated through the next hour, high on how wonderful life could be. Joe spoke to other men, each one seemingly more pierced and tattooed than the last. He introduced Scott to them as well.
Apparently, Scott wasn’t required to do anything other than nod and smile. That was fine with him. A few of the guys wearing collars shook hands with him, but even then, Scott wasn’t required to step away from the comfort and safety of Joe’s embrace. Joe’s arms remained wrapped around him; his presence completely enveloping Scott in a safe cocoon.
“You’re a good sub, and a good man. I’m proud as hell to have you in my life, and I have no hesitation in showing you offto anyone.” Joe dipped his head toward Scott’s ear again. “Any doubts about any of that?”
“No, sir,” Scott said. “No d-d-doubts.” To his own surprise, he realised that was actually the truth.
“Good, because if we hang around here any longer, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to wait until we get home. I’ll end up jumping you in the car.” Joe put his bottle down on the bar. Taking Scott’s drink from him, Joe set that aside, too.
For damn near the first time that night, Joe took his arms from around Scott’s torso. Immediately feeling vulnerable and exposed without top to toe physical contact with Joe, Scott dropped his gaze.
