Chapter Four
As Haris followed Tyler from the concert, he’d expected him to turn at any moment and spot him, but he’d been in too much of a hurry. When Tyler entered an old warehouse, Haris stepped into a gloomy doorway on the other side of the street and took out his phone. An Internet search gave no details about what might be happening at the address, but the building had a large gallery available to rent.
A steady stream of people went in as he watched. None came out. Unfortunately, they all handed over some sort of ticket at the door which meant he needed one if he was to get inside without making a fuss. He waited until he spotted a single guy in a leather jacket walking down the street and then hurried across the road to cut him off.
No point beating about the bush. “Sell me your ticket?”
The man looked him up and down. “You can probably buy one at the door.”
Haris wasn’t going to take that risk. “I’ll give you a hundred pounds.” He suspected that was far too much, but he could afford it and he didn’t want to waste more time.
“Two.”
“One.” Haris took out his wallet.
“Okay.”
As the guy carried on toward the door, presumably with the intent of paying the thirty pounds it said at the bottom of the ticket, Haris took in the rest of what it said.
BDSM Extravaganza at La Galleria
Everything you ever wanted to know
Everything you need to have
Demonstrations
Live show
£30
Oh shit. A hard lump blocked his throat and he swallowed hard. For his own peace of mind he ought to walk away, so he wasn’t quite sure why he found himself pressing the buzzer, handing over the ticket and taking the stairs to the gallery.
All I want to do is look at him. One more look so I can find some flaw, something I don’t like, something that ends this.
As if one look was going to be enough.
But if Tyler was into BDSM, one look was all it would be. Haris couldn’t take the risk of getting trawled into this world. Not again.
Three chattering women bursting out of tight leather corsets, the sides of their short skirts laced with chains, tottered away from a cloakroom on lofty heels toward the doors of the gallery and Haris slipped in behind them. He doubted invites had been restricted to those known to the organizers, but he had to be careful not to do anything to draw attention to himself. He almost smiled at the thought. In this sort of domain, many were exhibitionists, and he’d hardly stand out in his long grey woollen coat, even with the bow tie at his neck.
The room was set out with booths around the edges and a display in the centre involving a St. Andrew’s cross. Haris walked past stalls selling dildos, elaborate cock cages, rope, hard core DVDs, all sorts of leather items and books about bondage. There were tattoo artists doing flash work, body piercers offering to make holes in almost anything and demonstrations of Japanese rope work being done on naked women. Haris’s heart beat faster but not with any desire to dive back into BDSM.
Representatives of clubs wandered around handing out flyers offering free trials and he ignored the outstretched hands, just as he ignored the Doms on the lookout for subs and the subs seeking Doms. But he was all too aware of Doms sizing him up and subs trying to catch his eye. Maybe it was easier for him to turn his back on this world than it was for this world to turn its back on him. He hoped he didn’t see anyone he knew. When he spotted an area where different types of floggers were being demonstrated on a naked man, his heart pounded even harder and he turned away, glad it wasn’t Tyler.
More and more people were gathering around the platform in the centre of the room and as Haris watched, a heavily muscled Asian, his chest and arms smothered in dragon tattoos, hauled the St. Andrew’s cross into the air until it rested at an angle. A naked guy with black wings hung from it, his wrists and ankles secured by rope. Lines of metal clips ran from his nipples to his hips and his balls and cock were smothered in them. The bound figure lifted his head and Haris froze. Shit. He sucked in a disappointed breath and turned away. Tyler wasn’t the man he hoped for. No need to stay longer.
What did I think I was going to see? This is a BDSM event. That’s the scene he’s into.
One last look.
He swivelled round and Tyler lifted his head again, scanning the crowd with a wide-eyed gaze, a ball gag distorting his mouth. Haris released a quiet groan. Unless Tyler was a very good actor, not only was he not enjoying this, he was terrified.
Haris curled his fingers into fists. Interfering in someone’s bondage play was frowned on and unwise, unless it was an emergency. This wasn’t an emergency. Tyler had to have voluntarily let himself be tied and gagged, so had things gone too far or was he pretending? He seemed distressed and frightened, but didn’t appear to be in immediate danger. Even so, the look in his eyes unsettled Haris to the point that he couldn’t walk away. He moved closer.
The Asian rigger crouched with his back to Tyler, chatting at the far side of the platform and Haris bristled. Someone should be monitoring the sub at all times, checking he could breathe, making sure his hands and fingers weren’t losing sensation. Anxiety twisted his guts. Tyler’s eyelids fluttered, drool seeped from around the gag and even above the ambient noise, Haris could hear the muffled sounds of his misery.
He pushed through the onlookers to stand in front of the rigger. “Take his ball gag out.”
The bastard laughed. “You want me gag you instead?”
“He’s having problems.”
The rigger walked back to Tyler and ran his hand over a line of clips. Tyler squirmed and gave a muted anguished groan. Haris clenched his jaw.
“This BDSM,” said the rigger. “This what he want. This what they want.” He gestured to the watching crowd.
Tyler shook his head, more saliva trickling down his chin as he struggled. His gaze locked with Haris, his eyes desperate, tears on his cheeks, his breathing frantic.
“Did you check it was what he wanted?” Haris asked. “With that gag in, he can’t tell you.”
“He brat. Talk too much. He give sign if problem.” The man shrugged. “No sign.”
What fucking sign can he give you when he’s bound and gagged? Or when you’ve got your back toward him? Tyler was trying to speak behind the gag but Haris backed away. The more fuss he made, the more attention he’d draw, the more likely he’d be ejected and that wasn’t going to help anyone. The rigger needed to think he’d given in. Haris pulled out his phone as he headed toward the entrance. “Wilson.”
“I’ve so missed the sound of your voice, sir. I was lying here in my bed at the point of sleep, wishing I could hear it one more time today, knowing I’d rest so much easier.”
“I need the car.” Haris gave him the address. “Make it fast. Stay in the vehicle and wait.”
He ended the call before Wilson could say anything else. Once he’d located a fire alarm inside the gallery, Haris hurried part way down the stairs. As soon as a new group came in and distracted the man at the door, he slipped down the next flight into the bowels of the building. He sighed with relief when he found the circuit breaker box, though when he opened it, he had no idea what the switches controlled. He flicked all of them the opposite way and was plunged into darkness.
Using his phone to light his path, he made his way upstairs against the flow of angry people trying to exit. At least they weren’t panicking. Yet. Once he was in the gallery, he edged around the wall to the alarm, broke the glass and yelled “Fire” before he hit the button. Women started to scream, and he could hear things being knocked over as people rushed to leave. Back at the platform, he was furious to find Tyler had been left hanging with no one helping him. Where the fuck is that rigger?
The Asian rigger had a responsibility to Tyler. No way should he have deserted him. Haris climbed onto the dais, his phone clamped between his teeth. Tyler looked even worse in the dim light, his chest heaving as he sucked air through his nose. Haris unfastened the ball gag, dropped it and Tyler let out a strangled sob.
“It’s okay. I’m going to get you down,” Haris told him.
He had to lever the cross back into an upright position and lock it in place before he could start unfastening the ropes and doing it in the dark wasn’t easy. There should have been a knife nearby in case of emergencies, but he didn’t want to waste time looking.
It was perfectly reasonable in these circumstances for him to be helping a sub who was tied up, though he hoped he had Tyler down before the lights came on because he preferred to avoid a confrontation. He unfastened his ankles first and after he’d freed one wrist, Tyler slumped against him. Haris supported him as he untangled the final knot.
“You’re loose now.”
Tyler gripped him tighter.
“Try not to faint. Is your back okay? Legs working?”
“No. Fuck. God.”
Tyler trembled so violently that Haris’s fury with the Asian moved straight from volcanic to apocalyptic which probably stopped him getting an erection.
“That damn rigger,” Haris muttered.
Once he had Tyler sitting on the platform, he shrugged off his coat.
“We need to get out of here. Put this on.”
“Clothes…underneath.”
“I’ll get them.”
There was no time to take off the wings or the clamps. Haris stuffed Tyler’s hands into the armholes of the coat and pulled it over his shoulders. He fastened a couple of buttons and then crouched to fumble under the curtained base until he found a pile of clothes and boots. He shoved the boots on Tyler’s feet with no small amount of difficulty, wrapped the clothes inside the jacket and tucked it under his arm. As he helped Tyler up, the lights came back on. They were the only ones in the room.
“Hurry.” Haris tugged a sluggish Tyler away from the entrance toward a fire exit.
He pushed open the door and helped him outside. As they climbed down the metal steps, the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles filled the air and Haris felt a moment of guilt for their wasted journey. He made a mental note to make a charitable donation to the firefighters’ benevolent fund. Back on the ground, he guided a stumbling Tyler away from the road and round the back of the neighbouring property. Only when they were well clear did Haris risk stopping.
Tyler leaned against a wall with his eyes closed.
“Wilson,” Haris said into his phone.
“I’m right outside, sir, ready to run into a blazing building to save you, despite my asthmatic lungs and arthritic hips.”
“Very noble. Drive round the corner into Curzon Street and pick us up.” He stuffed his phone back in his pocket.
“He fucking left me,” Tyler whispered. “Christ. What a prick.”
“Yep.”
“I thought…I was going to die. When the fire alarm went off…oh God.” He shuddered.
The car slid up to the curb. Haris helped Tyler into the back and climbed in after him.
“Home, sir?” Wilson asked.
“Not yet. Just drive around here for a while.”
Haris pressed the button to raise the privacy screen and turned to see Tyler staring at him, a wary look in his eyes.
“Have I just landed in the frying pan?” Tyler whispered.
“No.”
“I saw you staring at me in there.”
Haris tensed. “You didn’t look happy.”
Tyler let out a short laugh.
“Are you okay?” Haris asked.
“My wings are killing me.”
Haris bit back his smile.
“You didn’t notice I’d stuffed my socks inside my boots.”
“No wonder you couldn’t walk.”
“And these damn clamps…” Tyler fumbled with the coat buttons and dropped his head back with a groan when his trembling fingers failed to unfasten them.
Haris did it for him. He pulled the coat from Tyler’s shoulders and freed his arms.
“Do you have any water?” Tyler asked.
Haris unscrewed a bottle and put it in his hand. Tyler shook as he lifted it but he drank the whole lot. Haris watched it glug down his throat, imagining himself licking his neck, sucking his Adam’s apple, sucking his—Stop thinking about sex. But it was impossible. The guy sprawled naked on the seat, a broken wing draped across his crotch that didn’t hide his erection and Haris’s cock was diamond hard.
“Take my boots off?” Tyler asked.
Haris lifted his leg and levered off the footwear.
Tyler let out a strangled laugh. “I can’t believe you even managed to get those on.” He tried to free a clamp on his nipple and yelped. “Fucking bloody hell. My fingers.”
“You want me to do it?”
“Please.”
Haris started at the top of his chest and worked down. Every time Tyler moaned, it excited him, which alarmed him beyond belief. Haris had turned his back on this a long while ago. He’d promised himself he’d never go there or do this again.
“Oh fuck.” Tyler rubbed his palm over the red lines on his ribs. “That bloody hurts. Fucking Lu.”
“You need the bathroom?”
Tyler snorted. “That’s the bastard’s name—Lu.”
Haris made a mental note. He took the final clip off Tyler’s torso and hesitated.
Tyler lifted his wing to uncover his crotch. “You missed a few. Think you could get those as well? If I try, I’ll probably rip my balls off.”
Haris began to unfasten the remaining clamps and found it hard to resist the urge to pet the nipped skin.
Tyler inhaled noisily. “Thanks. Having them taken off feels so much better than having them attached, though not enough to make me want them on in the first place. Well, not this many and not so fucking tight.” He shuddered. “By the way, I’m Tyler.”
“Haris.”
Tyler sucked in a long breath when Haris removed the last clamp. He wondered if Tyler had seen how much his fingers had shaken. Tyler’s cock was a work of art. Long, thick and uncut, it jutted out from his belly under the strain of its weight, forced to stay erect by the tight ring. No wreath of curls, Tyler was shaved smooth apart from a dark treasure trail running from his navel. A path Haris was desperate to explore. His intrepid cock pushed insistently against his zip. Thank God it was dark.
Tyler pawed at his groin. “Christ, I want this thing gone.”
“Think it needs cutting off?” Haris asked.
Tyler snapped his eyes open and stared at him at moment before his lips quirked in a grin. “Ah right. Not my dick. Don’t suppose…you’ve got a bottle of oil or…?”
“No.”
Tyler sighed and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock.
I could do that. The words stayed in his head as did the idea of making of move on Tyler. Haris wasn’t indecisive. He knew what he wanted and he usually took it. He was as alpha male as they come. He worked in a profession that required him to be quick thinking and authoritative. Falter in the world of venture capitalism and someone else stepped in but…but… I have him in my car and I have no idea what to do, what to say, how to stop him slipping away.
The prominent blue veins that mapped Tyler’s cock made Haris’s mouth water. He thought about what they’d feel like under his tongue, imagined suctioning those firm balls into his mouth and—Stop fucking staring at him.
Tyler gave a loud groan as the ring slipped free. “Jesus. That was about ten sizes too small. Not that I’m saying…yeah well, you know what I mean or maybe you don’t. Shut up now, Tyler.”
Haris hid his smile.
“At least tell me you’re not straight so I don’t think I’ve warped some innocent het,” Tyler said.
“I’m not straight.”
Tyler’s smile dragged a burst of pre-come from Haris’s cock. Hopefully, it would be absorbed by his boxers. He didn’t want Wilson speculating on a stain in his crotch.
“Pass my trousers, would you?”
Their fingers touched as Haris handed them over and the dam inside him broke to let lust flood free. Like a river bursting its banks, desire splashed along his veins, robbing him of air, forcing him to ride the flow. But on the point of throwing himself on Tyler, he flung himself back against the door. Tyler was too busy struggling out of the wings to notice. Feathers flew everywhere.
“Thanks for…well, fuck, thanks for saving my life.” Tyler turned to look at him as he pulled on the rest of his clothes. “When the lights went out and I heard the alarm, I thought I’d had it.”
“Was he your usual rigger? You shouldn’t work with him again. He’s irresponsible.”
“Good thing you were there.” Tyler reached out and rubbed his thumb over Haris’s knuckles.
Haris yanked his hand away and Tyler pulled back, a puzzled look on his face.
What the fuck am I playing at?
“Sorry,” Tyler mumbled. “Didn’t mean anything. Just wanted to thank you.”
“No,” Haris blurted.
“No what? No—fuck off or no—come here?”
Haris let out some inarticulate sound. He didn’t know what he wanted. Well, he did but he couldn’t say it.
Tyler laughed and the next moment he was straddling Haris’s lap, pressing his mouth against his, and Haris forgot why this wasn’t a good idea, forgot what he’d promised himself. Tyler had his hand stuffed between them, reaching for Haris’s cock as he rocked against him.
The car braked suddenly and the jolt punched sense back into Haris’s head. If he let this continue, it would go the way of all but one of his encounters and he’d never see the guy again. He pushed Tyler back and slid away from him.
“No.”
His broken angel was out of the car before he could say another word. Tyler slammed the door and Haris flinched.
He opened the privacy screen. “Wilson, find a place to park and when he’s turned the corner, get out and follow him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Haris watched Tyler hurry along the pavement, head down, hands in his pockets.
Let him go.
I can’t.
Tyler bubbled with fury as he stomped down the street. He was angry with Prescott, Lu, Haris and also himself for thinking a man like Haris would be interested in him. Even as he suffocated behind that ball gag, Tyler had fallen hard when he’d caught sight of him watching—a tall, dark-haired guy wearing a bowtie. Haris had the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen—a deep green, the pupils outlined with a thin dark line as if they’d been drawn with a pencil. Tyler’s stomach had lurched as painfully as if the cross had hit the floor.
Haris was a little taller, broader, and a hell of a lot richer than him. Tyler didn’t care about the money but a swanky car with a chauffeur? His coat was expensive and so was the Rolex on his wrist, assuming it was real. He had well cut dark hair and olive skin. He’d either been on a winter holiday or he was foreign, though he sounded more English than Tyler with that cut glass accent. He was so far out of Tyler’s league that he might as well have been on the moon. No wonder he’d reared away when Tyler had thrown himself at him. I’m an idiot.
In any case, why was he even wasting energy thinking about him? Haris had been at the BDSM event which showed which way he leaned and that wasn’t a world Tyler wanted to know any more about than he already did. But thank fuck Haris had looked at him and understood about the ball gag. He’d even tried to persuade Lu to take it out. Tyler stumbled. Then what? Haris hadn’t persisted. He’d given up and walked off. And the lights had gone out. The alarm had gone off. And Haris had come back.
Tyler turned the corner to find he’d returned to the warehouse. Two fire engines stood on the street but there was no sign of fire, no smoke, no panic. As he approached the building, the fire tenders pulled away and a group of people made their way inside.
Had Haris turned off the lights, activated the alarm? Tyler’s gut told him he had. So was he an experienced Dom? Someone who knew Lu had gone too far? Someone who wanted to show Tyler how a Dom/sub relationship should work? But he’d recoiled from him which was hardly Dom behaviour. Maybe he already had a sub. No way am I a sub.
Fuck it. What did it matter?
No Mex on the door, so he made his way up the stairs. Inside the gallery, people were packing up. Prescott wouldn’t be happy his event had been spoiled. Tyler spotted him with Jeremy and headed straight over.
Prescott frowned. “Where have you been?”
“Burning to death in a fire.”
“What fire? It was a false alarm.” Prescott clenched his jaw. “Some wanker has cost me a lot of money. We hadn’t even got to the main event.”
“Aren’t you insured?” Jeremy asked.
“Only if there’d been a fire. Pity there wasn’t.”
A red haze filled Tyler’s vision. “Good thing for me there wasn’t. You didn’t tell me this was what you wanted me to do.”
Prescott laughed. “You’ll do anything for money. You’re like me.”
Tyler glared. “You like having fucking clamps biting into your tackle? Having a ball gag strapped to your head? Not being able to give a safe word? It was fucking awful. And Lu left me. If there’d been a fire, I’d have died.”
“What are you talking about?” Prescott glanced toward where Lu was packing up his things.
“As soon as the lights and the alarm went off, Lu disappeared. He left me tied up and gagged. My safety was his responsibility and he fucked off. I hung there in the dark with the bloody alarm blaring and thought I was going to die.”
Jeremy gasped.
“Then how the hell did you get free?” Prescott asked.
“I was untied by someone who didn’t freak out like everyone else.” Tyler stepped right into Prescott’s personal space. “Lu is a fucking moron.”
“I’ll have words.”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah, right. What are you going to say? ‘Don’t do it again?’ I want my money. And don’t try and tell me I didn’t do what you wanted. I did.”
Prescott pushed him back and pulled out his wallet. “You were supposed to be here all night. There. Five hundred. Half. That’s all you’re getting.”
Tyler shoved the notes into his pocket. He’d worried Prescott wouldn’t give him anything.
Prescott sighed as he looked around the room. “Now clear off, both of you. I’m no longer in the mood.”
Tyler stalked across the floor, Jeremy on his heels.
“Hey, wait up,” Jeremy called.
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
Tyler slammed to a halt at the entrance to the gallery and turned to face him. “You left me too.”
“I had no choice. Prescott dragged me outside.”
Tyler shook his head. “There’s always a choice.” He hurried down the stairs.
“There was no fucking fire,” Jeremy called.
Tyler emerged onto the street and took a deep breath of cold air. There was a fire and he’d just walked out of it. He never wanted to see Prescott again.