Chapter 2

Connor stretched his shoulders and arms, working out the kinks. He’d come in early, taking advantage of the sunny day to walk to work. There was a spring in his step, which he thought of blaming on the weather, but he knew it was really thanks to Wesley. He couldn’t help thinking back to when they’d met. He’d been attracted to Wesley from the moment he’d laid eyes on him, but he’d never anticipated the depth of affection he would come to feel.

Yet, here he was—in love. It had taken him a while to admit it, even to himself. When he’d moved here, he’d still been hurting, though he hadn’t said it out loud to anyone. He’d barely let himself feel it, much less bring someone else in.

Coming from a bad relationship with an unreliable sub, he’d blamed himself for his ex’s death. He still did at times, though deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. Alin had been unstable to begin with, though he had hidden it better in the beginning of their relationship, and he’d spiraled deeper over time.

So, when he’d met Wesley—a fellow Dom working at The Dungeon—he’d thought they could have some fun. Wesley was meant to be a challenge and a distraction. Instead, Connor had fallen for him. He didn’t know when it had happened. But it had.

Whatever reservations he might have held in the beginning had fled the moment Wesley first kneeled down to him. Wesley, the man who had never submitted to anyone, had given Connor this gift.

The image of his lover’s peaceful, sleeping face passed before his eyes, and a smile played on his lips.

A distant bell, designed to mark each hour throughout the building, chimed the beginning of the day, forcing him to concentrate on his job. He went to the front desk, where the assistant was settling in for the day, and confirmed his daily schedule. He, like the rest of the staff, was sent a daily email containing the next day’s appointments, but he liked to recheck everything before the clients came in.

Walking toward the rooms, he read the sheet. Two steps later, he stopped and stared at the details. The first appointment was a new client: Matthew. New not only to himself but to the club as well, judging by the little mark in front of his name.

He moved on to the list of the man’s preferences and boundaries, and frowned. Blood play. Needle play. Suffocation. Extreme humiliation. Pet play. Connor swore through clenched teeth as he turned and headed back to the front desk.

“Maria, have these been vetted by Lucas?”

She glanced at him in confusion, then turned to frown at the screen, no doubt checking her own version of the list. “Yes, they have. Is something wrong?”

Connor showed her the comment section. “I don’t know. The first one seems odd.”

“Odd how?” She rose and reached for the file.

“Not the usual type of subs the club gets, I guess.”

She went over the details again, and her brow furrowed. “Not really. We do have a few that are a bit more extreme than the rest.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that.”

“Is there something on that list that you consider to be a hard limit? There’s nothing in your file to suggest that.”

No, there wasn’t indeed. Mostly because he hadn’t thought he’d need it, not in a Dungeon where safety was paramount.

“Is there something wrong? I can call Lucas and have him moved to someone else.”

Connor pursed his lips, thinking. “No. Don’t worry about it. If he’s been vetted by Lucas, I guess it’s fine.”

“Actually, Tamara did the background check on him.”

Connor nodded, and set off back to the rooms. As he looked again at the sheet in his hand, he noticed that he had a new assigned room: the sterile one, where all the more intense subs were taken. He changed direction toward it, turning over the possibilities in his mind. When he reached the room and looked around, he shook his head. It wasn’t a room he’d expected to be using, especially when there were Doms better suited to the more intense play for which it was designed. He stared at the paraphernalia available, debating what to use for the scene. He checked again the details listed, and swore.

The knock came sooner than he’d hoped. Sighing, he went to open the door for Matthew. The sub’s appearance threw him. For an instant, he thought he was looking at Alin, his former partner. His deceased former partner.

The man standing in front of him, head bowed, was short and lithe, and in his early twenties. His hair was a mud blond, and while Connor couldn’t see his eyes, he had a nagging suspicion they would be blue.

But that was where the similarities ended. From the set of his shoulders and the way he held himself, it was clear this wasn’t Alin. It had to be Matthew, his current sub.

“Hello, Matthew.”

“Sir.”

“Come in. Take off your shoes.”

Matthew obeyed immediately. He stepped inside and removed his shoes, one at a time, his moves clearly well-rehearsed. At least Connor wouldn’t be dealing with a novice with such extreme inclinations.

Connor went through the rules with Matthew, reiterating the safe words, making sure Matthew would remember them. Then, when he couldn’t put it off any longer, he started the scene.

Connor donned latex gloves before taking the nipple clamps to Matthew. He rubbed an ice cube over each nipple, to harden them, then clipped the tiny metal jaws around them. Matthew gasped, his eyes fluttering closed, but otherwise he showed little emotion. From the nipples, Connor moved lower and attached a chain of bigger clamps from beneath the pecs all the way down to the waist. Then he secured a heavy collar and leash around Matthew’s neck. By the time Connor was done setting the scene, Matthew’s pupils were wide, his gaze dazed.

Connor jerked on the leash, and Matthew followed him on all fours. It came so naturally to him that it unsettled Connor even further. Matthew was too good, too perfect. To everything Connor did, Matthew responded beautifully. The harder Connor went on him, the better Matthew liked it. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in his reactions, yet Connor was the one left disheartened. Matthew didn’t push Connor for more, accepting everything he dished out with grace. Alin hadn’t done that. He had pushed and pushed, wearing Connor out until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

Yet, while Matthew evoked a need to be faster and harder to everything Connor did, the effect on Connor was similar to the one Alin had.

Connor fought to remain in the present, to keep his head in the scene, but it was difficult. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so affected by his interaction with Matthew, but he had. When the session ended and he had tended to his sub, he fell into a chair.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he stared blindly ahead. Images of his former lover and Matthew mixed inside his mind, screwing with his head. He was both spurred on and shut off, and he could barely make sense of what he was feeling.

He didn’t know how much time had passed or what remained until his next session. Eventually, he managed to push everything to a far corner of his brain, and gathered himself to some extent.

When his next appointment knocked, Connor offered him a smile he didn’t really feel and invited him in. He went through the motions, forcing his attention on the man in front of him, to the point where his body trembled with the effort. And when his thoughts slipped back to the previous session, Connor pushed himself harder, willing himself back into the game.

The evening passed slowly and painfully. By the time it was over, he was exhausted. He regretted his decision to walk to work in the afternoon, and decided to take a cab home.

Once there, darkness greeted him. He took off his shoes by the entrance, and his clothes in the lightless bedroom, and crawled into bed, happy that Wesley was asleep and that he wouldn’t be forced to make conversation.

Wesley shifted and mumbled something in his sleep, dropping his arm over Connor’s chest in a possessive gesture. That little act warmed Connor’s heart and brought the calm he needed. Connor remained still, making sure not to wake his partner, his own brain finally turning off enough for him to rest.

***

The kitchen smelled like hot butter croissants and fresh coffee—a mix that normally would have made Connor hungry. Instead, his stomach gave a little grumble, turning at the scent.

Connor rubbed at his eyes, removing the last remnants of sleep. The night hadn’t been restful, and he wasn’t feeling very sharp.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Wesley offered Connor a plate filled with the freshly baked goods. Unable to refuse it, Connor picked up a croissant and placed it on a napkin.

Taking the plate away, Wesley returned with two mugs of coffee, setting one in front of Connor. Connor glanced at it, noticing it was made just as he liked it: dark and most likely bitter...like his mood.

“Thank you, love. I’m sorry. I came back late and didn’t want to bother you.”

“You should have woken me.”

Connor caressed Wesley’s cheek, smiling. “You were sleeping too peacefully. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.”

Disappointment flashed over Wesley’s face, but the smile he gave Connor didn’t falter, making Connor feel even more miserable for lying to him. In his book, anything but the truth had nothing to do with a healthy relationship, be it kink or vanilla. Taking a deep breath for courage, he decided to tell Wesley the truth.

“Besides, I wasn’t great company.”

“Why? What happened?”

Connor shrugged. “I had a weird session.”

Wesley frowned. “Weird how?”

“It was a more intense sub. Into some hardcore stuff. Blood play, needles, that sort.”

“And he got approved by Lucas and Tamara?”

“That was my first thought. I checked with Maria, and it seems that Tamara oversaw his admission.”

Wesley pursed his lips. “And how was it?”

“Rough.”

Wesley frowned, regarding him carefully. “Because of your ex?”

“Yes.” Connor couldn’t believe how difficult it was to admit it.

“You shouldn’t have accepted the scene.”

“I know.”

“Why did you?”

Connor shrugged. “I didn’t think it would be this bad, to be honest.”

But what’s done was done, and Connor hoped Wesley would not pursue the subject further.

He bit into the pastry, the buttery goodness making him feel better. He reached over the table to take Wesley’s hand and give it a little squeeze. Wesley squeezed back, acknowledging his silent thank you.

“What’s your work schedule for today?”

Grateful at the change in topic, Connor jumped to answer. “My shift starts at eight, and I’m booked solid, if I remember correctly. You?”

“I’ve got an early shift. I’m starting at four and will probably be back by eight.”

Connor took a sip of coffee, letting the brew work its magic on his nervous system.