“I c-can’t remember,” Scott said, his voice now thin and raspy with pleasure. “I c-can’t think when you’re…”
Whether Joe believed him or not, he smiled at Scott’s admission. He tightened his grip around Scott’s wrists and pulled him away from the storage box.
Scott didn’t hesitate to follow the unspoken order, once he actually recognised it as being an instruction to move. Within seconds, Joe had deftly pinned Scott’s arms behind his back.
In one easy movement, he transferred both of Scott’s wrists into the grip of one of his huge hands. Scott stared up at him, wondering if Joe really thought he could keep his wrists trapped against the small of his back with just one hand.
Joe’s expression was completely serious but, no, Scott realised. Joe didn’t think he was that weak. As Scott stared into Joe’s eyes, he was sure that Joe knew that the physical hold he had on him was just a statement of where he wanted Scott to keep his hands.
It was the mental hold Joe had over Scott that actually made it impossible for him to move his arms. He would keep his hands behind his back until he was given permission to move them. That knowledge came from deep down, in a part of Scott’s mind that he was still just beginning to explore, and there was no arguing with it.
Joe slid his free hand into Scott’s hair. Wrapping his fingers around the disordered strands, he tilted Scott’s head back and once more made Scott look him in the eye.
“Tell me what you remember,” he ordered.
Scott frowned, trying to summon up details, but they were so hard to bring to mind. The past wasn’t important. What he’d once dreamt of doing with other men was irrelevant. But, Joe’s orders—they were vital. Scott concentrated harder.
“I r-remember thinking that whatever he did to me, it would h-hurt. But I…I remember being sure that I w-wouldlike it—even though I knew I should hate it,” Scott managed to whisper. “I…being treated like that, n-not having a choice…I like it…”
Scott’s frown deepened, as he struggled to recall the specifics of a fantasy that had once filled his brain during every quiet moment for months on end. It was no use. Daydreams couldn’t compete with Joe.
“If I’d come into this shop back then, everyone would have known that you were gay by the time I left,” Joe suddenly informed him.
Scott nodded. It would have been obvious to everyone just by the way he stared at Joe. Joe wouldn’t even have had to smile in his direction to out him.
“They’d have known you belonged to me, too,” Joe went on. “That you’re my submissive.”
Scott stared up at Joe, loving those words. Whatever anyone else believed was irrelevant. Belonging to Joe, being his submissive, was everything he wanted from life. It was impossible for him to keep back a needy little whimper.
Joe tightened his grip around both Scott’s wrists and Scott’s hair in response. “They’d have all seen the way you submit to me, whether you wanted them to or not.”
“Wh-what would you have done?” Scott whispered, as desperation kicked his vocal cords back into life.
“That would have depended on one very important fact,” Joe said, his lips twisting into a humourless little smile.
“F-fact?” Scott echoed.
“Did you have my permission to come to work today or were you disobeying me?”
Scott swallowed. Unexpected guilt swarmed through his mind. Joe’s voice had hardened again. Scott’s stomach knotted. Every muscle in his body tensed. “I—”
“No,” Joe cut in, drawing the word out, as if he was considering the matter very carefully. “You wouldn’t disobey me like that, would you?”
Scott shook his head vehemently, not caring how hard he tugged at Joe’s grip on his hair.
“No,” Joe mused again, sliding his fingers down to rest, almost tenderly, on Scott’s cheek.
At the same time, as if to balance out any hint of gentleness, Joe tightened his grip on Scott’s wrists. There would be bruises there the next day. If Joe hadn’t looked so serious, Scott would have grinned at being marked that way, at being allowed to wear Joe’s marks beneath his skin for days to come. But Joe’s usual smile was entirely absent.
“If I’d stumbled upon you in this store back then, it would have been the first time I set eyes on you.” He seemed to be talking to himself.
Freed from any obligation to answer, Scott simply stared up at Joe, relishing their closeness.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Joe suddenly demanded.
“I-in the fantasy?” Scott asked.
Joe’s lips quirked into that lopsided smile; the one that always made Scott desperate to rise up onto his toes and kiss him.
