“I’m the only one who’ll get a good look at you—unless you keep stalling until other guys turn up, of course.”
Scott hurriedly shoved his boxers down and kicked them off. He tossed them in the locker and tried to take the towel.
Joe pulled it out of his reach. Seconds stretched out and felt like hours as Joe kept him standing there, completely exposed to anyone who might walk into the room, while he ran his eyes slowly over Scott’s body.
Scott felt the heat rush to his cheeks. Soon, they were going to match the colour of the guest towel.
“J-Joe?” Scott finally stuttered out.
“There are flip flops in the locker. Put them on.”
Scott looked at each door leading into the locker room, but it was no good worrying about who might come in. The only way he was going to get his towel was to obey Joe’s orders. His pulse raced, but he couldn’t deny that Joe’s minor demonstration of the control he had over him made his cock rise.
He dug beneath his clothes until he found the flip flops. He dropped them on the floor and clumsily pushed his feet into them.
“Good boy.”
Scott looked hopefully at his towel.
“There’s a wrist wallet in there. You’ll need that as well.” He lifted his hand and showed Scott a small black pouch he’d secured around his wrist.
Scott whimpered at the delay, but dutifully fumbled through the locker until he found it. He couldn’t fasten it around his wrist. His hands were shaking—although he wasn’t sure that was from an overload of nervousness or arousal.
Joe stood up.
“I’m s—” Joe put his hand over Scott’s mouth.
“I warned you that I’ll spank you next time you offer me an unnecessary apology. I have no problem turning you over my knee right here.” He took his hand away.
Scott kept his mouth shut, sure Joe wasn’t bluffing.
Joe smiled and fastened the thing around Scott’s wrist. “Perfect.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips against Scott’s mouth.
Scott ached to lean into the kiss, but he remembered how business-like Joe had acted when there were other people around and he held back. “I d-d-don’t w-want…” he managed to stutter out.
Joe lifted his head. “Nothing will happen that you really don’t want,” he promised. “You still remember your safe word, right?”
Scott shook his head and grabbed Joe’s hand to stop him pulling away.
“I d-don’t want to g-g-get you in t-trouble,” Scott managed to finish.
For once it was Joe who looked shocked.
“You’re at w-w-work,” Scott reminded him, carefully.
Joe laughed. “If I was willing to screw five guys a night in the middle of the busiest room in the building, my boss wouldn’t fire me, he’d give me a raise.”
Scott blinked at him. Heat rushed to his cheeks. Even if he’d always known that Joe wasn’t bound by the same rules as him, Scott had let himself pretend that Joe wasn’t screwing anyone else. Gradually, part of what Joe had said nudged its way to the front of Scott’s mind.
“You’re not w-w-willing to?”
“I never have taken well to other people telling me who to screw, or when, or where.”
Scott stared at the centre of Joe’s chest, caught between hoping that Joe would announce that he hadn’t screwed anyone else since they’d met; and hoping that Joe wouldn’t say anything at all, because the truth was probably far from monogamy. For better or worse, Joe remained silent on the subject.
Someone had to say something to break the hush. “You could s-s-screw me wherever you w-w-wanted. If you th-think that would h-help,” Scott offered.
* * * * *
