Chapter Two: Oscar

I 've done a hell of a lot of dumb shit in my life, but moving halfway around the world for some guy I met on the internet is probably the dumbest shit of all.

Especially when I found out he had a wife.

And kids.

And a cute-as-fuck dog.

I sure as shit wasn't turning back around and hopping on another long-haul flight back to Texas. Not to hear my mama bitching me out about how she told me so, or to hear my pops telling me that if I'd just lived my life the way they'd told me to, none of this would have happened.

I've forever been a disappointment to them. And, the more they expressed those thoughts, the more I rebelled. That accounts for maybe sixty percent of my shitty decisions. The other forty percent? That's all on me.

So here I am in Brisbane, Australia, of all places, having just checked myself in to a hotel in the city and looking to let off a bit of steam before I make a plan to get my life back on track…again.

The central business district of the city feels small. It kind of reminds me of the time I visited San Diego as a kid. Could probably walk from one end of the place to the other within a couple of hours if I tried. Hell, it feels like you could take the whole area and drop it in the middle of my pop's ranch and still have acres upon acres of land to spare.

But then, they do say everything's bigger in Texas.

I pull out my phone and, using the sim card I'd organised myself when I'd planned to uproot my entire life, I start searching for my usual kinds of stress-relief.

I scroll a few online message boards before I find the advertisement for a kink-friendly club called ‘The Vault'. A quick Google search tells me it's only a mile and a half's walk from my hotel, and apparently they're still selling tickets for tonight's themed event.

I ain't planning on going in costume, and I'm willing to bet they'll let me in regardless. So, after tucking my phone and wallet into my pockets, I head out the door and in the direction of the club.

* * *

The club, like Brisbane City, is smaller than I imagined it would be. I almost couldn't find the damn place to start with, not realising that it was part of the adult store I'd walked past three times. With its peeling pink exterior and grimy windows, it wasn't exactly an enticing place to walk into, but the interior was bright and squeaky clean, and the woman behind the counter was more than happy to direct me up the stairs to the club after I showed her the ticket on my phone.

Beyond the soundproofed door at the top of the stairwell, the sounds and sights hit me all at once. Writhing bodies, moans and groans, slaps and slurps and general debauchery. Even if it is a much smaller, more dated space than I'm used to back home, it's still familiar and comforting.

I explore the space first, respecting the closed-door rule wherever I come across one, but poking my head into rooms with open doors, watching the porn and live shows for a few moments before moving on. I'm just trying to get a feel for the space and the kind of activities I'm in the mood for when sounds of distress filter down one of the short hallways lined with closely spaced-together doors.

I pause and wait, wondering if it's part of someone's play, or whether the distress is real.

I jump a few seconds later when the sound of a door slamming against a wall reaches me, dim yellow light spilling out into the hall from the fourth door on the left.

"Help!" A guy's voice, pitched high with panic calls out, "Red light! Help! Anyone?!"

My legs are moving before my brain catches up with my intentions.

When I reach the open doorway, it's to the sight of some bland, dark-haired guy wearing a rumpled button-down shirt and dark denim jeans around his ankles grabbing a terrified looking man by the back of his mesh shirt and pulling him so hard that they both topple backwards.

The older man cries out and flails his arms, shutting his eyes as he falls.

Launching forward, I manage to grasp his wrist, pulling him towards me.

His blue-grey eyes fly open as he tries to lean into my movement, crying out again when the mesh of his shirt tears and his attacker crashes backwards to the ground. The sudden release sends the guy I'm rescuing careening into me.

I stagger, but manage to twist us enough that my back hits the wall and stops our momentum. The man against me is trembling and I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around him. His skin is warm to the touch, and he takes the contact as an invitation to burrow his bearded face into the crook of my neck, his breathing heavy and hitching.

"You're okay," I soothe. "I've got you."

He nods but doesn't speak, and I glare over in the direction where the other guy is picking himself up off the floor. "What happened here?"

"You broke a club rule," the other guy snaps at me. "Fuckin' Americans, always thinking you own the world. You can't just bust in on someone's scene."

"I didn't break anything," I keep my tone calm as I reply, aware that the raised voice of the other guy made the man in my arms flinch. I tilt my head towards the hallway. "That door was wide open, and it sounded to me as though you were the one breaking club rules."

All my response earns me from the asshole is a sneer. "Fuck off. We were just—"

"Was this man safewording?" I cut him off, absently rubbing calming circles on the older man's back when he attempts to burrow even deeper into the crease between my shoulder and neck.

"It was part of the scene," the asshole says flippantly.

I frown; an expression which deepens as the man in my arms shakes his head against me. "That true, darlin'?" I ask him, holding an index finger up to silence the protests from the mouthy guy in the corner.

"No." The word is barely whispered, but with how close his mouth is to my ear, I hear it loud and clear.

"Oh, come on ," the asshole whines, gesturing wildly towards us, "look at the way he's dressed. He was begging for it."

The man in my arm whimpers and I decide I've heard and seen enough. "I'm gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that, buddy." I tell the guy in the corner, giving the one in my arms a reassuring squeeze. "And you're gonna stay right here while I report this to the insanely huge security guy I was introduced to earlier."

That announcement goes down like a lead balloon, and the asshole yells as he tells me I ain't got no right to report him or whatever. I tune him out, my protective instincts kicking into gear as every loud exclamation earns another shudder from the man in my hold.

"What's going on here?" The new voice belongs to the aforementioned security guy. He stands in the still open doorway, his arms folded and his expression menacing.

I can see there's a crowd growing behind him, and I smother a sigh. An audience is the last thing the man I've stepped in to assist needs.

"This guy," the asshole cries dramatically, waving his hand at me, " burst into this room while that guy and I were in the middle of a scene and—"

"The door was open," I object calmly, "and he was safewording and calling out for help."

"It was part of the scene," the asshole insists, taking on a tone that suggests he thinks I'm a moron.

I raise my eyes towards the ceiling and silently ask The Powers That Be to grant me strength.

The security guy, big and hulking, looks between us with narrowed eyes before his gaze lands on my charge. Immediately, his dark eyes widen with recognition.

"Rye?" he asks in disbelief.

Rye , for his part, pulls away from my neck to peek in the security guy's direction. I catch a glimpse of tear tracks on his cheek, and I have to count backwards from ten in my head to not push him into the security guy's arms just so I can go and pummel the crap out of the sorry excuse of a man in the corner of the room.

"Well, shit." The security guy breathes. He doesn't ask any further questions. Instead, he pushes forward into the room, bypassing me and Rye, and takes the asshole by the bicep. He looks back over at us. "I'm taking him downstairs. We've got his details and he will be banned from the store and the club. But, Ryan, if he crossed a line —if he tried to force you— you're within your rights for us to call the police and make a report." He says all of this kindly. His grip tightening on the other man's arm while the guy struggles is the only sign that he's clearly just as pissed as I am. Maybe even more, seeing as he knows the man in my arms well enough to be on a first-name basis with him.

Ryan pulls back again, shaking his head. He swallows roughly. "I don't want to do that. Just…just take him away. Please, Sam?"

The asshole cusses and curses and protests the whole way out the door. I ignore the murmur of conversation from the hallway, gently holding Ryan by the shoulders as I ask, "Do you want to go into another room and take a minute? I totally get it if being alone with a strange Dom after all that doesn't work for you, but I'd like to get you out of this room and I'm bettin' you'd like to avoid the crowd out there." I remove my hands when it hits me that my touching him might also be making him uncomfortable, and I facepalm. "I'm Oscar, by the way."

Ryan is already shaking his head, in what I assume is refusal of my offer. "No," he says softly, then forces himself to look me in the eye. He looks a mess with his silver-streaked hair dishevelled and his eyes red-rimmed, but I'm not unaware of how attractive he is. "No, I…I'd like it if we took a minute." Beneath his neatly trimmed goatee, which is greyer than the dark hair on top of his head, his lips curl into a small smile. "I'm Ryan."

I hold out my hand to shake his. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ryan," I tell him, then cringe again. "Maybe not under these circumstances, but I'm always happy to make the acquaintance of a handsome man."

His face flushes pink and it's damned adorable. "Now you're just being nice to make me feel better."

I snort. "Darlin', I'm not the kind of man who lies about things like that. If I say you're handsome, it's because I think you are."

The Adam's apple in his throat bobs and he bites his lip. "Okay. Thank you." After a beat, he adds, "You are, too. Handsome, I mean."

It's cute the way his cheeks flush and he looks to the floor. I don't think he's complimenting me for the sake of returning the gesture, not by his suddenly shy and awkward demeanour. It's pressing all of my buttons right now, and I have to remind myself that he's been through an ordeal and doesn't need a horny cowboy pawing at him. He needs a friend, even if only for the night.

"Come on, sweetheart," I press my hand to the small of his back to lead him from the room and then frown as my open palm makes contact with bare flesh. "On second thought, hold up."

"What…?" he starts to ask, his eyes widening as I tug my leather jacket off, exposing my short-sleeved shirt and my heavily tattooed arms.

The jacket is well-worn and buttery soft. Brown, not black, and the lining is silky smooth satin.

I hold it out to him with a smile.

"You're about the same size as me, I'm guessin'. This'll be better than that scrap you're stuck with right now. Here," I right the upturned chair and lay my jacket over it, turning back to Ryan, my hands reaching for what remains of his ‘shirt'. "Let me?"

The pink shade over the tops of his cheeks deepens, but he allows me to assist him out of the mess of mesh he'd been wearing. Then I help him into my jacket, and I'm pleased to find that it's a close fit, if slightly too big around the shoulders. A pang of something hits me at seeing him in my clothes. Something undefinable, but nonetheless warm and fuzzy. It's not quite possessive, but it makes me feel like he's mine.

That is dangerous.

I'm on the rebound, I have to acknowledge that. I'm also being presented with all of my favourite temptations at once: a sweet, shy older man, submissive to the core, and he just let me dress him. As a Daddy Dom, I'm aching to see what else we could do together.

But those same Daddy instincts have me backing off, too. I'm feeling protective and I want to offer comfort, and those are the only lines I'll cross with him.

That ain't gonna stop me from daydreaming, though.