Scott fell. Joe’s order slid beneath him, catching him before he could hit the sand in the circus’ centre ring. But, rather than set him down gently, the order scooped him up and whisked him higher, way above the big top and any mere illusion or tricks that had been performed there.
Scott flew on wings of adrenaline, caught up on air currents of endorphins. And he had permission to fly. Maybe even better than that, he had permission to believe he was worth the effort of flight.
He reached a peak of perfection set high up in the sky before he felt himself floating gently back down to earth. He had no idea how much time had passed; only that he was now in Joe’s bed, in Joe’s arms, and there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
The room was silent. Their dates so far had included so little time merely laying together and luxuriating in each other’s presence. Scott kept his eyes closed, just in case opening them might inspire Joe to pull away. Scott didn’t move; he barely even dared to take a deep breath.
A chuckle from Joe almost made Scott falter in his resolve and open his eyes, but he held firm and kept himself in darkness.
“I know you’re back with me,” Joe said. “But don’t worry, pet. I’m not going to make you move just because you’ve let on that you’re conscious.”
* * * * *
Joe tightened his hold around Scott’s shoulders, feeling more protective of him with every minute he spent in his presence.
Scott blinked and opened his eyes, but he didn’t try to lift his head from Joe’s shoulder or meet his gaze. Not sure what to say, Joe took the easy way out and started up the recording again. It was impossible to think that anything could make it easy for Scott to watch the film, but now that he was full of afterglow, he seemed to find it a little more manageable.
Scott curled into Joe’s side, ignoring the cum drying on his stomach, and made no protest as the film played on.
“You’re gorgeous when you submit to me,” Joe said. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot all the time, but when you submit, that’s when you come into your own.”
And it was at those times that Joe felt his need to protect, as well as dominate, Scott come to the fore and refuse to be denied. It was at those times he knew that he was going to find it impossible to ever walk away from Scott.
Scott was his. That meant Scott’s problems were his problems. If he ever wanted Scott to be a content and confident collared sub in the future, Joe would have to fix those problems. He’d have to do whatever it took.
No excuses. No pulling back. No taking the easy road and thinking that sex could take the place of big, serious, real world issues. He couldn’t just leave Scott floundering while he enjoyed having his own way all the time.
Dominance didn’t just mean being allowed to be bossy. It also meant taking serious issues seriously, and making sure that the orders he gave were the right orders for everyone involved.
Joe glanced at the envelope on his bedside table. He hadn’t written the note to go inside it yet, but he knew then what he needed to invite Scott to do. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but it was very much what a good dom would do.
Scott deserved a good dom.
Part Ten: Plain Brown Wrapper
South Street Sauna. 11 PM Friday. Go straight to reception—the guy behind the desk will take care of you.
“Take care of you” meant that the guy behind the desk would tell him where Joe was. Scott reminded himself of that several times as he walked down South Street.
He’d seen saunas that specialised in catering to gay and bi men before, from the outside at least, so he knew what to expect. It would be discreetly tucked into a basement property. Very few signs, and none making it clear that it catered to men who had no interest in the possible health benefits of a sauna.
It would be the kind of place that men ducked into while hoping that no one spotted them. Forget relaxed, gay friendly spaces—most of the men in a sauna wouldn’t even be out.
Scott was almost at the end of the directions Joe had texted him when he finally dragged his eyes up from the pavement to get a good look at his destination.
Forget everything he’d predicted. The sign above the door was huge and featured several very attractive men wearing very small towels. Forget cramped basement properties—this sauna occupied the entire building.
Scott shuffled his feet on the pavement outside for several minutes, trying to re-jig his expectations. Whatever Joe had planned for him tonight, it wasn’t going to be like their visit to the glory hole in that rough pub. Joe wasn’t trying to show him the seedier, rougher side of gay sex tonight.
No longer needing to be concerned that he might be stabbed or mugged, Scott now worried that he might be expected to purchase a membership that cost more than his annual salary.
“First time?”
Scott jumped.
There was a guy behind him. He was older than Scott, perhaps in his mid-forties, and wearing a business suit.
Scott blinked at him.
