With Joe right behind him, Scott reluctantly stepped out of the club and into the cool, early morning air. It had to be gone three a.m. and there was a decided chill to the air. No hint of dawn showed over the horizon yet. There wasn’t a soul to be seen on the street.
Rubbing vaguely at his upper arms in an attempt to keep them warm, Scott lurked just outside the club as Joe locked up and pulled down the shutters.
Then, Scott had no excuses left.
Joe had said that he’d probably want to screw him again at some point, but Scott wasn’t going to embarrass himself by asking when he could see Joe next. Dating and hooking up were different things. Hoping for the former rather than the latter would be silly.
Being Joe’s back up option if no one better came along was fine with Scott. He took a step backward, away from Joe, then another, and another. Summoning up all his will power, he finally convinced himself to turn around and walk across the road to his beaten up old car.
“It’s your turn.”
Scott looked over his shoulder. “What?”
Joe reached into the pocket of the leather jacket he’d picked up on the way out of the club and took out a piece of paper.
Scott hurried back across the street and took what was now clearly an envelope from Joe.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted, staring down at the blank surface. The messy letters he’d hoped to see scrawled across the envelope were conspicuously absent.
“It’s your turn,” Joe repeated.
Scott continued to stare down at the envelope, still without the least clue what Joe was talking about.
“What do you want to invite me to do with you next time we meet up?” Joe prompted.
Scott opened his mouth. He closed it again, without saying a single word. There was going to be a definite, pre-arranged, next time. He was going to meet up with Joe, almost as if they had a date. They were going to do another scene and have sex. They were going to…
It didn’t really matter what they did. Scott was pretty sure he’d have a fantastic time if he was just allowed to sit and stare at Joe.
“Think about it.” Joe flicked his finger against the envelope. “When you’ve made your decision, let me know. But remember what I said earlier—no one else lays a hand on you while I’m playing with you.”
Scott silently watched Joe turn and walk away. Joe’s long legs quickly ate up the pavement. Within seconds he’d turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared from view.
Joe was playing with him. Scott couldn’t help but picture a big cat toying with its prey, but the image didn’t put him off at all. Neither did the fact that Joe hadn’t said anything about both of them being obliged to remain faithful to the other.
Dropping his attention to the envelope in his hand, Scott made his way blindly back to his car. Unlocking it, he slid behind the steering wheel. Closing the car door, Scott took a deep breath and ran his free hand slowly down his face.
He needed a shower, several night’s worth of sleep, a good meal, and at least a lifetime in which to process everything that had happened that night. But, in that particular moment, he realised that what he really needed, more than any of those other things, was a pen.
As he turned the key in the ignition, a smile crept on to Scott’s lips. It was his turn, his chance to ask Joe for whatever he wanted…
Part Three: Written Request
Damn, but wasn’t that a fantastic sight to come home to? A little of Joe’s exhaustion faded away as he turned the corner at the end of the corridor leading to his flat. He smiled to himself as he paused to admire the view.
Scott was bent over right outside Joe’s front door. His dark blue jeans were stretched taught over his buttocks. He was damn near begging someone to come up behind him and grind against his arse. As Joe watched, Scott straightened up. That was okay. Joe had already had plenty of time to etch the image indelibly into his brain—one more picture of Scott for him to treasure on those cold, boring nights when he had nothing but his own right hand to keep his cock warm and happy.
Scott took a step back from Joe’s door before finally turning around. If he’d been a cat rather than a submissive, he’d have only had eight lives left to play with after spotting Joe. Scott’s feet actually left the floor as he jerked with surprise.
“W-what are you…?” Scott began.
“What are you doing here?” Joe finished for him. “Isn’t that my line?”
Scott blinked in confusion as Joe closed in on him.
“I’m the one who lives in this building, right?” Joe added.
“I…um…”
