Scorched Edges (6 page)

“You’re trembling. How are you doing?”

Marty frowned. “I’m…good. I think. I’m not sure why I enjoyed that so much…” His voice trailed off.

Beau slipped his hand beneath Marty’s T-shirt and rubbed small circles over his back. His skin was smooth and very warm.

“Do you… Do you whip your subs, Beau?”

That’s what’s worrying him. He thinks I’ll want to take a bullwhip to his back.
“Does that bother you?”

“I think it does.” Marty’s nose wrinkled for a moment, lifting his spectacles. “I mean, I understand the dynamic that was going on up on stage. The sub was just as into it as the man with the whip. He enjoyed the pain… He was turned on by it. I know all about endorphins and the rush that pain can bring, but I don’t think I’d want that. For me, I mean.”

“It’s not something that appeals to me either, Marty. I’m a totally different kind of sadist. I fully admit that I would enjoy making you suffer, but not in that way.” Beau kept rubbing.

Marty leaned back into his touch, inviting more. “In what way then?” Marty spoke so quietly Beau could hardly hear him over the thudding beat of the music.

“How do you think it feels to be held on the edge of orgasm for hours? Or to be denied the option to come completely?”

Marty’s eyes widened but he didn’t reply.

“Do you know what predicament bondage is?” Beau asked.

“I could make an educated guess,” Marty replied, blushing.

“Well, I enjoy all those things. I’d like to see your skin pink under my flogger or paddle, spank you with my bare hand, keep you in chastity and control your pleasure…put you in chains and fuck you until you scream.” Beau’s cock hardened. The thought of all the delicious things he would like to do to the young man in his lap was intoxicating. “But not tonight.”

“No?”

Beau was fairly certain that he detected disappointment in Marty’s voice.

“No. Tonight I’m going to take you home, walk you to your door and, if you allow it, kiss you goodnight.”

Marty gifted him with a shy smile.

“Tomorrow, when we have our second date, we’ll see.”

“We’re having a second date? You want to see me again?” Marty sounded astonished and delighted at the same time.

“We are and I do. I’m keeping you out late, so I’ll let you lie in tomorrow then I’m going to pick you up for brunch. If the weather holds, we’ll take a walk along the river and you can ask me all the questions I know that brain of yours will conjure up while you’re dreaming about me tonight. I’ll take you back to my place and prove that I can cook by making you dinner. After that, well…that will be up to you.”

Marty squirmed in Beau’s lap.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“‘Yes, Sir’ will do nicely,” Beau said. He picked Marty up and set him on his feet.

Marty scuffed his foot into the carpet before glancing up.

“Yes, Sir. That sounds perfect.”

“Then it’s time we were going.”

Beau said his goodbyes to Carey and Becket. Marty got hugs from Alistair and Christian and indulgent smiles from the two Doms. Beau escorted Marty toward the exit, walking tall and proud. He’d spent plenty of evenings watching other Doms show off their subs, now it was his turn.

Chapter Four

Unusually uncaring about tidiness, Marty let his clothes drop where they would as he undressed. He pulled on a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and climbed into bed. He plumped his pillows and lay back with no intention of sleeping. It was late, or rather early at two in the morning, but his mind buzzed with the events of the evening. After the cab ride home, Beau had insisted on walking him to his front door, then left him with the parting gift of a searing kiss that had all but melted Marty’s limbs and taken away his ability to stand. Beau had had to take the key from his shaking hand and open the door for him, then he’d left with a smile full of promises.

Marty just wanted to close his eyes and remember the sights and sounds of The Underground. He needed to give himself a chance to consider why he felt the way he did—so many unexpected things turned him on. His ordered mind needed to compartmentalize his experiences and analyze them objectively. Just as he did in his job, Marty collected information then came to rational conclusions. There was no reason why he couldn’t do the same when considering why the thought of Beau taking a flogger to his back made his cock stand to attention.

Beau, of course, needed a compartment all of his own.

“Sex on a stick.” Marty moaned. “Did I just say that out loud?” He created a mental checklist of all the things he liked about Beau. Dark hair, dark eyes… That whole tall, handsome, brooding thing he has going. That body…even though I haven’t seen it properly yet. The way he kisses, the way he takes control, the way he makes me feel safe. Marty sighed. He was getting hard…yet again. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his pajamas and gripped his aching dick. And he’s a gentleman. Kind and attentive. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m invisible. I should have invited him in and let him screw me through the mattress. He pulled on his shaft, too gently to bring on an orgasm but enough to keep him teetering on the edge. It would be so much better if Beau was the one holding me back, denying me. “Oh God!” Marty’s body had its way and he came with a hot spurt into his hand.

Sated for a while at least, Marty wiped his sticky fingers clean and got back to his dreams. He put himself in the position of the subs he’d seen, kneeling next to their Dominants, being led around, controlled, spanked… Marty could still feel where the collar had gripped his neck and he missed it.

“Why do I want this? It’s not logical to crave punishment. How can a caring relationship involve pain?” He mulled that over for a while and came to the conclusion that he needed to do some research into pain receptors in the brain and the psychological impulses that drove submissive behavior. If he could just identify the science behind it all, it might be easier to accept his feelings.

“Or I could just go with the flow for once, follow Beau’s lead, because that man can certainly lead.” He grabbed the spare pillow next to him and hugged it. “God, I feel like a schoolboy with a crush.” Marty glanced at the luminous dial of the clock on his bedside cabinet. The hands crept toward three a.m. “Only eight hours until I see him again.” Marty sighed happily and let himself drift slowly into sleep.

* * * *

Beau arrived at Marty’s place promptly at eleven the following morning. He buzzed the intercom but elected to wait outside for Marty to join him rather than going up to Marty’s apartment. There was too much temptation up there. Marty’s bed. The soft rug in front of the fire. A sofa back at the perfect height to bend Marty over. Several other assorted flat surfaces. Beau shook his head and managed a wry grin. Marty had no idea how attractive he was. His geeky charm and aura of permanent bewilderment with the real world pushed all Beau’s protective buttons. He wanted Marty for himself. It was inconceivable that any other man would ever lay a hand on him.

Beau leaned against a convenient lamp post and waited for Marty to come down. The lobby door opened and Marty was there, giving him a shy smile. He was also falling…

“Fuck!” Beau dashed forward and caught Marty as he tumbled over his front step and took a dive toward the pavement. He caught him and pulled him upright before giving him a quick check over. “You need a bodyguard.”

“Sorry.” Marty straightened his clothes—a baggy green sweater over faded jeans. “I’ve always been a bit clumsy. My dad says it’s because my head is always too busy analyzing things to take enough notice of where my feet need to be. I got a bit distracted when I saw you.”

Beau took a tight grip of Marty’s hand.

“When you’re with me, I’d prefer that you focused enough to at least remain in one piece,” he said firmly. He squeezed Marty’s hand. “Does this bother you? Me holding your hand in public?”

Marty shook his head. “I’ve been out a long time. I firmly believe that unless more gay couples are open about their relationships, the general public will take a hell of a lot longer to get used to it. In my experience, most Londoners couldn’t give a toss about public displays of affection.”

“Good, because I have no intention of letting go.”

“Where are we going?” Marty asked as they set off toward the river.

“I know a place…a twenty-four-hour diner set up just like something you might find in the States. The owner’s an American import—moved here and married an English girl twenty years ago. He’s been running this place ever since. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried one of his pancake stacks.”

“Do they have bacon? Oh…and coffee, I need coffee.”

Beau laughed. “Yes to both. I’m sure they’ll be able to accommodate your every desire.”

Little spots of color appeared on Marty’s cheekbones, making Beau wonder what he was thinking about. He stroked the back of his hand down Marty’s face. “If breakfast gets you this excited, we’ll have to do it as often as possible.”

“Oh! I wasn’t thinking about food…”

“You have other desires, huh?”

“Maybe.”

Beau chuckled. “Well, we’re here…so hold those thoughts. You can give me some details later.” He pushed open the door of Dilly’s Diner and towed Marty into the welcoming warmth. Beau picked a booth toward the back of the diner and settled Marty onto the red leatherette seat.

Marty examined the place with a grin. “They’ve really gone all out for an authentic style, haven’t they? Everything’s all polished chrome. Wow, there’s even an old-fashioned jukebox. I haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

“I’m not sure whether places like this do actually exist in real life or whether I’m just making assumptions based on old episodes of
Happy Days
.”

“Oh, they do. Lots of small towns have them, and in the cities diners are often open twenty-four hours.”

“Have you been to the US then?”

“Yes, a couple of times. My parents took me to see a space shuttle launch one year and I spent a summer at space camp with NASA when I was sixteen.”

“Of course you did.” Beau chuckled. “Well, authentic or not, I love this place and the food is fantastic.”

A waitress, neatly dressed in a pink and white striped dress, came over to take their order. “Hey, Beau, weekend off, huh? Who’s this sweetie you’ve brought to see me?”

“Beryl, this is Marty. Marty, meet Beryl—best waitress in the south of England.” Beau made his introduction, and Beryl beamed.

“Such a charmer. Now what can I get you boys?”

They hadn’t even picked up a menu but Beau didn’t need it. “The works please, Beryl, times two. Extra bacon on the side for Marty and two mugs of coffee.”

“Coming right up.” She sauntered off with a sway in her hips.

“I think I have competition,” Marty said.

“Her husband works the grill, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about. He’s the Dilly of Dilly’s Diner.” Beau loved that Marty wanted to stake a claim on him.

“That’s all right then, we can stay.” The twinkle in Marty’s eyes betrayed his teasing.

“So you want to be in control of our day, do you?” Beau raised one eyebrow a fraction and waited with interest to see how Marty would react.

“Would you let me?”

“It might make a nice change,” Beau said without committing to anything.

“That didn’t answer the question,” Marty said, his brow drawing into a frown. “I think you’d let me if I asked, but you’d hate every minute of it. You need to be in control. It’s in your blood.”

“Does that put you off? Scare you?”

Beau could visualize the cogs whirring in Marty’s brain as he contemplated his answer.

“What scares me more is how much I like the idea of you ordering me around.” He fixed his gaze on the tabletop and began to tear a napkin into tiny shreds.

Beau reached across the table and covered both of Marty’s hands with one of his own. “That shouldn’t frighten you, Marty. How you feel is perfectly natural for a submissive.”

Marty gave a short laugh. “I’m only just coming to realize that’s what I am. Something in me thinks I should fight it. Years of conditioning, I suppose.”

Their food arrived. Reluctantly, Beau released Marty’s hands so that Beryl could unload her heavily laden tray. He missed the sensation of skin on skin instantly. Marty was made to be held, touched and kept safe. Beau experienced a moment of regret that he’d sat opposite Marty rather than right next to him. He craved closer contact.

“What’s the matter?” Marty was too intuitive for his own good.

“Just thinking about how much I enjoy touching you and how far away you seem right now.” Beau opted for honesty.

“I’m not nearly as far away as you might imagine. My heart knows what it wants, my mind’s just taking a while to get with the program.” Marty forked up a chunk of syrupy pancake and shoved it into his mouth. Orgasmic noises followed, making Beau laugh.

“If I can get you to sound like that, then I’m doing something right.”

Marty smiled around another huge bite of pancake. He chewed and swallowed before he spoke. “There’s not much to beat a good mouthful of something sticky.” His eyes glinted. Beau had no idea how Marty managed to keep a straight face.

“You are so overdue a good spanking,” he said, munching on a rasher of perfectly crisp bacon.

Marty giggled. He actually giggled. The sound was carefree and joyful. It sent a shiver of desire through Beau’s frame. Watching Marty eat was almost voyeuristic. He managed to convert the entire meal into a sexual display. He licked his lips slowly, dipped a finger in the syrup and sucked it clean, leaned back as he swallowed his coffee, baring his throat so that Beau could watch his Adam’s apple bob. Beau shifted in his seat and decided there and then that the walk he’d planned could wait. The river wasn’t going anywhere and he had a brat to deal with.