Screwing the System (14 page)

Cosmo swallowed his frustration and attempted to give Alasdair what he was after, seeing as how he’d used the
voice
and all. “I feel horny. My dick’s about ready to pop and you’re not even touching me. I fe—oh.” Something had just brushed over his chest. Not fingers. Something hard yet soft. It moved to his pierced nipple, and suddenly Cosmo realised what it was. “You’re stroking me with the rope, aren’t you? It feels…”Cosmo squirmed. “It’s ticklish.”

Alasdair chuckled and brushed the rope over Cosmo’s lips. The second time he did it, Cosmo remembered the rules and licked it as it went past.

“Good boy.” Alasdair’s approval flooded Cosmo’s body with pleasure, making his toes curl and his heartbeat quicken.

Alasdair continued to tease him mercilessly, looping lower and lower with the rope until it just flicked the tip of Cosmo’s erection.

“Ah shit. I need something firmer. Please.”

When the slap of the rope came across his back, Cosmo wondered why on earth he’d asked for firmer. He whimpered as the pain exploded bright across the darkness, but as Alasdair laid on another lash, his skin began to tingle, and he arched up for more.

“Please.” He didn’t know what he was asking for anymore, but Alasdair worked at the buckle, and his hands were released. He stretched, easing out the tension until his muscles relaxed, despite the whole being-blindfolded-by-a-sadist scenario.

“Are your arms comfortable?”

Cosmo murmured his agreement.

“Okay, I’m going to start tying you up, but you’ve got to tell me if you start getting pins and needles or any pain. Understand? This might be a little uncomfortable, but it’s meant to be pleasurable for you. I’m not doing a punishment tie today.”

Not today. Okay. Pleasurable. Cosmo let the music lull him as Alasdair arranged his hands behind his back, each of his hands gripping the opposite forearm, his wrists facing each other. The rope caressed him as Alasdair fed it around and around, only gradually tightening it to bring his wrists together.

“How does that feel?” Alasdair said softly, his breath whispering against Cosmo’s ear.

Cosmo wriggled, testing the unfamiliar position of his shoulders. Well, he certainly wasn’t slouching now. “Not bad. Is that it, then? Can I see?”

Alasdair chuckled and kissed his neck. “Oh no. That was just the beginning. This could take some time. I’m not rushing, so you’ll just have to be patient.”

Cosmo tried to be patient, he really did. The gentle music helped, but as the rope looped over his deltoids, around his chest and back to somewhere in the middle of his back, his heart rate began to climb. Not in a bad way. Oh no, this was in an oh-so-good way. His mind floated as the ropes crisscrossed his chest again, this time lower down. Alasdair spent an age fiddling with the knots behind him, and whatever he was doing kept cinching Cosmo’s arms back farther and farther, but his calm enquiries as to Cosmo’s comfort reassured him that the man knew exactly what he was doing. He was just being thorough.

“I’m finished,” Alasdair said, following up with a stubbly kiss to Cosmo’s shoulder. “You should see how sexy you look. Just beautiful.”

As the blindfold eased off, Cosmo was dazzled, but when he eventually blinked his eyes open, there were only a couple of candles lighting the room. He realised they were in Alasdair’s bedroom, with Cosmo kneeling in the middle of the floor on some kind of soft mat. The wardrobe mirror was positioned before him and a freestanding one just behind so he could see Alasdair’s work.

“Oh!”

“Is it what you were expecting?”

Alasdair sounded like the response mattered to him, so Cosmo took his time to examine the rope work. There was very little to see from the front, as the dark red rope only crossed over his chest twice, above and below his pecs, framing them. However, his pecs seemed to jut farther forward than usual, as did his erection, what with the way his arms were held back. But behind his back, that was where it was all going on. Cosmo admired the row of beautiful knots leading down to his bound wrists.

“That’s amazing. Fuck, it feels amazing too.”

Alasdair chuckled. “You’re rope drunk.”

That had to be it. His head was woozy like he’d just downed half a bottle of Jack Daniels, but his senses seemed sharpened rather than dulled.

Which made the sensation of Alasdair’s breath against his cock even more electrifying. “Oh God.” Cosmo had assumed Alasdair would want to fuck his face when he’d finished the binding, but he clearly had something entirely different in mind. Alasdair crouched down on the floor, giving Cosmo a wonderful view of the waves and vines tattooed over his back. And there in the mirror, he could see those strong thighs, Alasdair’s heavy cock and balls hanging down between them. What a sight.

Cosmo gave himself up to the sheer pleasure of Alasdair’s hot mouth on his dick and that strong hand on his balls. The man knew just what to do, when to suck hard on the head, when to take him deep, when to tighten his lips and squeeze his fingers. Cosmo shuddered; Alasdair swallowed around him and tugged down on his nuts. The man’s throat drove him mad, warm velvet squeezing him so close he cried out. The pleasure climbed and climbed until Cosmo’s every last scrap of control unravelled, and he was falling hard, emptying himself down Alasdair’s throat.

As he floated somewhere up by the ceiling fan, Alasdair moved behind him, wrapped his arms around his chest and frotted a rock-hard cock between his cheeks. Cosmo called up his last bit of strength and clenched his arse muscles, absurdly gratified to hear Alasdair grunt as liquid heat burst over his balls and dribbled down his thighs.

After that there were kisses and a gentle massage to his newly freed arms and shoulders. Last thing he remembered was being cleant up and lifted onto the bed, where sleep claimed him the moment his head touched the pillow.

Chapter Eleven

The following Wednesday, Alasdair strode out of the meeting with the Eden Centre facilities manager feeling sanguine. He hadn’t been in a position to tender for the cleaning contract when the new mall was first built, but now he’d expanded and taken on new staff, he’d wanted another chance. It might have been an introduction from Roger, whose wife just happened to be an old school chum of one of the major shareholders, that got him in the door, but he was confident it was his own merits that would get him the contract.

He began working out in his head whether he’d need to take on a dedicated team of staff just for Eden, or if he could add it into a few existing runs, but his thoughts kept straying. It didn’t help that he had a present for Cosmo sitting in his briefcase and couldn’t wait to see the lad’s face when he opened the box. Memories of his last scene with Cosmo, of that limber body crisscrossed by rope, leaked in around the edges of his thoughts. God knew what it was that made that man so much more appealing than any of the other subs he’d played with over the years, but he just couldn’t get him out of his head.

And it wasn’t just the way Cosmo’s body yielded to him or his breathy moans that hijacked his attention. No, it was stupid little things like the chipped tooth that showed when he grinned widely and the way his voice rose in pitch as he began talking about something that excited him. Music, for instance.

Cosmo had played to him again after breakfast, an eclectic mix of songs from the sixties, seventies and eighties, and Alasdair hadn’t been able to get them out of his head. Maybe listening to the originals would help. As he approached the lift to the car park, Alasdair swung left and headed for the doors through to the shopping centre instead. He’d just head down to HMV and pick up a few albums. Maybe come up with a few suggestions for songs Cosmo could play him next time.

Next time. There had to be a next time. And many more times. But Alasdair could be patient and wait for Cosmo to see the advantages of moving in with him.

As he picked his way through the lunchtime shoppers, Cosmo’s voice continued to sing inside his head. But distant now, and singing a song he didn’t recall. Alasdair came to a standstill. Wait, that wasn’t in his head.

He scanned the wide boulevard lined with shops. That familiar figure was nowhere in sight, but as he swivelled his head, he homed in on the right direction. Cosmo had mentioned something about busking outside the library, hadn’t he?

As he walked out from under the covered streets to the open air, Alasdair felt his chest expand, his breathing deepen. Cosmo’s beguiling voice caressed his eardrums and soothed away the residual tension from the meeting. Yes, he needed more of this man in his life.

And there Cosmo was, standing by the fountain with a battered old acoustic guitar, singing to the pigeons and the passersby. Alasdair hung back and observed, strangely reluctant to risk interrupting the tune. He recognised it now, an old Bill Withers number about “Grandma’s hands”. Cosmo’s voice rang out so much clearer than it had at the weekend, and guilt prickled under Alasdair’s skin. He really shouldn’t force the lad to deep throat, but then again, Cosmo seemed to enjoy it so much. Alasdair liked to think he could tell when a sub was exaggerating his response to please him, and he didn’t get any of that off Cosmo.

In fact, he doubted Cosmo had ever said anything less than honest, especially not to appease a member of the establishment. Even in that fateful job interview, Alasdair couldn’t remember any outright lies. Cosmo was more the sort to stick his fingers up and sneer at authority.

Just like Alasdair had, once upon a time.

But it wouldn’t help to dwell on his own misspent youth. Alasdair took a deep breath and tried to lose himself in the music again, but Cosmo had reached the end of his refrain. As the last few chords echoed off the concrete walls, Alasdair realised he was being watched.

Cosmo smiled at him from across the plaza, and Alasdair’s feet may as well have been iron filings, drawn helplessly by the magnetism of that wide-eyed gaze.

He drew to a halt with just the open guitar case between them, a paltry few pound coins and a scattering of small change gleaming on the scuffed velour. What he’d thought from afar was a note turned out to be nothing more valuable than a card from a local Italian restaurant.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you down here during working hours, Mr. Hotshot Businessman. Slacking off at last, are you?”

“I’ve been in a meeting.”

“Yeah, so I gather.” Cosmo’s gaze raked him up and down, and Alasdair had the disconcerting sensation of being stripped naked by that unflinching gaze. He met the frank stare with one of his own, but Cosmo refused to back down.

“Going anywhere now?” Cosmo asked. “I could take a lunch break.”

“Just back to the office. I should be working.”

Cosmo snorted derisively. “What’s the point in being your own boss if you can’t give yourself a break every now and again? I can have one whenever I want, you know.”

“Yes, but you don’t earn nearly as much as I do.” And bloody hell, Alasdair dropped his gaze first, looking down at the coins in the case. He wondered how many were Cosmo’s float. You had to have a few in there to attract more, right? The appearance of success always acted like a magnet for more money. It was part of his rationale for hanging around with Roger’s set.

“So, if you enjoyed the music, you’re meant to leave a tip.”

“Or a business card, perhaps.” At Cosmo’s quizzical expression, he pointed down to the Fratelli’s card.

“Oh, that. Nah, he’s just scouting around for crooners to play in his restaurant. Totally not my thing. And it clashes with gigs and band practice.”

Alasdair was in half a mind to lecture Cosmo on why he couldn’t afford to turn down paying work, but he didn’t want to spoil the vibe between them. Instead he fumbled into his pocket for his wallet. He didn’t carry coins, so he pulled out a note. A twenty. Was that too flash? But he didn’t have anything smaller.

Alasdair folded the note and dropped it into the case.

“Shit, how about you just take me out to lunch instead? It would probably be cheaper.”

Lunch. He’d been planning a sandwich with Mavis before getting stuck into the Eden planning, but he could take another hour if he needed to. The spreadsheets could wait. They couldn’t hold a candle to Cosmo’s smile.

“Let’s go, then.”

Cosmo grinned like a cat that had got the whole bloody aviary, and Alasdair realised he’d just played right into Cosmo’s hands. That should bother him, but instead he just felt a tingling warmth spreading through him at the prospect of spending a stolen hour with Cosmo, even if all they did was eat and talk.

It took a couple of minutes for Cosmo to pack up his guitar, and while he did, Alasdair scanned the shoppers around them. Would someone he knew see him with Cosmo? If they did, they’d be bound to wonder what he was doing with an alternative-looking lad young enough to be his son. He didn’t particularly care what most people thought about him, but he’d learnt to be circumspect where business was concerned. Not closeted, exactly. He wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality, but he didn’t advertise it around clients.

Well, okay, he was closeted around Roger and his friends, but there was a difference between omission and outright lying. But he didn’t need to worry, because that lot wouldn’t be caught dead down High Wycombe town centre if they could help it. It was way too common. Too many “proles” for their liking. They’d shop in one of the genteel villages full of antique shops, designer boutiques and Michelin-starred restaurants this part of Buckinghamshire abounded in.