Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

That Saturday night Jack found himself in the passenger seat beside Rusty Dougherty, heading down a narrow, winding road in a semi-rural part of Westchester County. Jack had spent the week going back and forth, cancelling and then rescheduling the meeting in his mind at least a dozen times.

But when Rusty had showed up at his apartment, smiling in that calm, easy way he had, Jack picked up his overnight bag and followed the guy out to his car, still half-wondering what the hell he was doing.

As they drove, they talked at first of superficial things—Rusty’s veterinarian practice, Jack’s auto shop. But soon the conversation veered toward BDSM, first in a general sort of way, and then it got personal.

“I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing,” Jack admitted. “I’m gonna show up tonight, but beyond that, I haven’t a clue. I’m here mainly for Alexei, because he wants it.”

Rusty nodded, his attention on the road. “Alexei can be very compelling, that’s for sure.” He smiled, glancing briefly at Jack. “But I hope you’re not doing it just for him. I hope you’re doing it for yourself.”

When Jack didn’t reply, he added, “Alexei thinks a lot of you, Jack. Of your potential. He wouldn’t go to this trouble and set up this session if he didn’t. He cares about you. And not for nothing, but he’s rarely wrong. If he thinks this is something you need, you can bet your bottom dollar that it is.”

Jack shrugged, still unconvinced, though he had to admit he liked hearing that Alexei cared about him, even after all these years.

“You know,” Rusty continued, “back when I was first learning, first getting comfortable with the whole concept of sexual submission, I found it a lot easier to handle when I was bound. It took away that added responsibility of maintaining a position, of keeping still, of fighting what I really wanted but wasn’t ready to admit just yet. But on an even more basic level, it took away my choice. At least in the immediate sense. I mean, the sub always has the ultimate control, the final say in a consensual exchange of power.”

“Right,” Jack said, digging back in his memory to say, “Safe, sane, consensual, the bywords of the community.”

Rusty nodded. “That’s right. Good words to live by. So with your consent”—he flashed a grin in Jack’s direction—“we’ve decided to make it easier for you tonight. Ever been on a St. Andrew’s cross?”

Jack drew in his breath, remembering the large X-shaped crosses they had at some of the clubs, cuffs attached and at the ready to secure wrists and ankles. “Yes,” he said. “A long time ago.”

“It’ll make it easier, I promise. There’s something very freeing about bondage, as ironic as that sounds.”

“I don’t know…” Jack hesitated, aware his cock was stirring at the thought of being bound and at the mercy of some—what had Alexei called him—professional Dominant. But was he really up for this?

“Alexei wants it that way,” Rusty said, finality in his tone.

Jack nodded. If Alexei wanted it…

“Here it is,” Rusty announced as he turned into a gravel driveway. He drove back toward a hedge of evergreens, behind which a gray stone house appeared. Rusty parked the car and they climbed out. He walked toward the front door, Jack following with his overnight bag in his hand and butterflies in his stomach.

Rusty unlocked the door and stepped inside, switching on the light. The door opened directly onto a large, comfortable room, not nearly as cluttered as Alexei’s Manhattan home. Jack took in the sofa and two chairs grouped around a fireplace. There was a wardrobe against one wall, and nearby the promised St. Andrew’s cross, set up next to a padded spanking bench.

The place was warm, with logs already piled in the fireplace, ready to be lit. “I came up earlier,” Rusty said, “to get the place ready for you. You want to use the bathroom or anything while I get the fire going? You can strip in there or out here, whatever suits you.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if Jack would naturally expect to strip naked in a stranger’s house the moment he walked in. Jack stood motionless a moment, until Rusty said, “Come on, Jack. You’re here for a reason. Safe, sane, consensual. Right?”

Jack nodded and shrugged. What the hell? In for a penny…

How different was this, really, from picking up some guy at a bar? And this pro Dom, at least, came with Alexei’s seal of approval. That counted for something. Actually, that counted for a lot.

Jack went into the small bathroom typical of these old houses. He took off his clothes, tossing them into a pile on the counter. His hand had healed sufficiently to where he no longer needed the protective gauze padding, though the knuckles remained bandaged. He thought about that past Monday, when he’d smashed his fist against the wall, instead of into Ronan’s face, like he’d wanted to. Imagine if Mr. Fancy Pants Grant could see him now. Would he think less of Jack because he was submissive? Or would he get it?

When Jack returned to the living room, Rusty had the fire going. He was standing in front of the open wardrobe, his back to Jack. Moving closer, Jack saw that the shelves of the wardrobe were filled with BDSM paraphernalia—whips, rope, floggers, crops, cuffs and chain. He swallowed hard, suddenly uneasy.

Rusty turned around and smiled, lifting his eyebrows as he gazed at Jack’s naked body, nodding his silent approval.

“So where’s this guy?” Jack said, resisting a sudden urge to cover his groin.

“He’ll be here any minute,” Rusty replied. “He just called to say he’s only a few minutes away. He meant to be here when we arrived but was running just a little late, he said. Why don’t you stand with your back against the cross? I’ll get you strapped in. That way you’ll be ready to go when he gets here.”

“Okay.” Now that’d he’d made the decision to go along with this whole thing, Jack told himself to go with the flow. He’d give this thing a chance, for Alexei’s sake if nothing else, and see what happened.

He allowed Rusty to secure the cuffs of the cross onto his wrists and ankles, standing obediently with arms outstretched and legs spread. Just as Rusty finished locking him in place, they heard the sound of a car engine.

“That’ll be him,” Rusty said. “I’ll just go greet him, and then I’ll be on my way. Text me in the morning when you’re ready to be picked up.”

“Uh…” Jack experienced a moment’s trepidation. It was one thing to do a scene with someone at a club, but he was incredibly vulnerable right then, naked and strapped to the cross, alone in the house with a stranger. “Maybe this isn’t—”

“You’ll be fine. I promise,” Rusty said, giving Jack’s shoulder a squeeze. He moved into the foyer, and from his position, Jack couldn’t see the front door. He could hear the muted voices of the two men talking in the front hall. Then he heard the sound of the front door closing and a man entered the room.

Jack stared, his mouth falling open of its own accord. He could not be seeing what, or rather who, he was seeing.

The guy stopped dead in his tracks, his face paling as he stared at Jack. “What the hell…?”

Ronan Grant stood just inside the door, looking better than any man had a right to.

~*~

Ronan dropped his duffel bag and removed his jacket. He advanced slowly into the room. When Alexei had referred to his friend Jack, it had never occurred to Ronan it would be Jack Harris, his auto mechanic. Yeah, he’d known Jack was gay, but there’d never been a hint that he was in the scene, and no way would Ronan have pegged him for a sub if he were.

Yet there he was, Jack Harris, naked and cuffed spread eagle before him. His bulging biceps were covered in tattoo ink, his chest smooth save for a V of curling hair at his sternum, his abs flat and well defined. His cock was large, even at half-mast, and nicely displayed between thick thighs forced apart by the cuffs at his ankles. His sandy blond hair flopped into his eyes, which were a particularly vivid blue. His nose was large and slightly crooked, as if it had been broken a time or two, above a full, sensual mouth. Whatever else the guy was, beneath the greasy mechanic’s uniform, he was fucking gorgeous.

Even so, while he’d always found Jack attractive in the abstract, at least physically speaking, it never occurred to him, even in his fantasies, to want to Dom the guy. But Alexei had asked this special favor. Ronan loved Alexei liked a father and would do anything for him. If Jack would cooperate, which certainly remained to be seen.

“Let me down,” Jack said gruffly as Ronan moved to stand directly in front of him.

Not a great start, but maybe he was just nervous. This had to be as much of a surprise for him as it was for Ronan. He’d play it cool, and see how it went—for Alexei’s sake.

Ignoring Jack’s demand, he said in a reasonably calm voice, “Hello, Jack. This is a surprise.”

“Cut the shit, Grant,” Jack interrupted. “I said, let me down. This is a mistake. I don’t know what the fuck Alexei was thinking but—”

“How do you know Alexei?” Ronan shot back. “I had no idea you were even in the scene.”

Jack jerked at his restraints, but the cross was firmly anchored and it did no good. “You gonna let me down or what?” Jack’s face was red with anger, his hands clenched into fists above his cuffs.

Ronan blew out a breath, channeling the calm Alexei had taught him. “Look, this is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. My first impulse is to call Rusty to get back here and we’ll end this right now. But first impulses are not always the best course of action. I know this is awkward—for both of us. Please, just stop a minute and calm down. Take a deep breath and let’s think this through. I’m not going to let you down just yet. Not until we talk things over a little first.”

“I’m warning you…” Jack said, but didn’t complete the sentence. For whatever reason, Alexei apparently saw something in the guy—something worth exploring.  

Standing his ground, Ronan said, “Jack, when Alexei called me, he asked me to come over and meet with a man he holds in high regard. He explained this is a man ready to reconnect with the part of himself that can give up control in order to find that intensity of experience he has been missing all these years.”

Jack said nothing to this, and Ronan took a step closer. “I admit, this is a very, uh, unusual circumstance for us both, but I’m willing to go through with this, if you are. And just so you know,” he added, not entirely sincerely since he couldn’t deny he was unexpectedly attracted to his bound and naked charge, “I’m not doing this for either of us. I’m doing it for Alexei. If you’re as close to him as he indicated, I’d think you’d want to do the same.”

A mix of emotions was playing over Jack’s face—part anxiety, but maybe something else—maybe desire? He had to feel incredibly vulnerable on the cross. Ronan took a step closer and put his hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder.

He drew in a sudden breath, unprepared for his own reaction to the feel of Jack’s warm, smooth skin. He’d always found Jack attractive, in a rugged, rough kind of way, but he’d never considered actually getting involved with the guy.

But now it was as if someone had touched a lightning rod directly to his cock. He dropped his hand and stepped back, getting control of himself.

Looking into Jack’s eyes, he said gently, “Let’s give this a chance, okay? For Alexei. Let’s put aside what we know of each other out there. Let’s focus on who we really are. Obviously, you didn’t know I’m a pro Dom, and I had no clue you were submissive.”

“I’m not—” Jack began, but Ronan silenced him by placing two fingers over the big man’s lips. He resisted an absurd impulse to follow up with his own lips.

“Don’t let’s quibble about terms right now. At this moment, in this house, you are not Jack Harris. I am not Ronan Grant. We are just two people exploring something very powerful. Alexei sees something in you, and I’d like to explore that with you.”

He stroked Jack’s right arm, moving his hand along the muscle toward his bound wrist. “What happened?” he asked, touching the bandage covering his knuckles.

“I, uh, I bumped it. Accidently.” Jack slid his gaze away.

Ronan could tell he was lying, but he didn’t press the issue. He brought his other hand up and stroked Jack’s left arm, moving his hands in tandem along both arms and then down Jack’s sides, smoothing the skin, pressing hard enough so he wouldn’t tickle him. At least Jack had stopped demanding to be let down. That was a first step, at any rate.

He continued to move his hands soothingly over Jack’s flesh, aware of his own erection, hoping Jack wasn’t. When Ronan’s hands moved lower, he noted Jack’s cock twitching to attention. He suppressed a smile, telling himself this was just a reaction to skin-on-skin, not any particular attraction the guy might have for him.

When he curled his fingers around the handsome man’s cock, it wasn’t because he ached to do so, but because it would help get Jack in the proper frame of mind for their session.

Jack gasped softly at Ronan’s touch. His cock elongated and thickened in Ronan’s grip. Ronan brought his other hand to Jack’s balls, cupping them gently. “Are we agreed then, Jack? You will submit to me, just for tonight? I can blindfold you, if that will make it easier.” As he spoke, he stroked Jack’s now rigid shaft, squeezing his balls just hard enough to keep Jack’s complete attention.

When Jack didn’t answer, he squeezed a little harder.

“Answer a direct question, boy.”

Jack whipped his head toward Ronan at the use of the term “boy,” which Ronan had employed on purpose to begin to establish their relationship for the evening.

Jack glared at him, but his cock remained hard as bone beneath Ronan’s fingers.

Ronan waited, lightly stroking the thick, hard shaft.

“Okay, okay,” Jack finally grunted. “For Alexei.”

Ronan managed to suppress his smile. “For Alexei.”