Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Clint

Why did I give him all those ideas?

They’d been driving for nearly thirty minutes, the countryside well behind them until they were smack-dab in the middle of the city with office and antique buildings alike staring at them from all sides.

“This brings back some memories,” said Clint, gazing longingly at a passing street. “I can’t count how many times I’ve been down this street.” He pointed at the corner of an old crumbling building. Inside, was one of the best-kept secrets in the city. “I stopped at that bakery almost every morning when I slept at home. They have the best pretzels known to man. Dip that in their specialty whipped cream cheese and yum.”

He licked his lips, his mouth watering at the memory of the taste.

“We can stop and get some,” said Scotland, already turning on his signal to pull over to the side of the road.

Clint shook his head. “On the way home. I’m not sure if I can eat right now.” It was a fancy way of saying he was nervous as all hell. He was back in kinky action, but the ball was solidly in Scotland’s court.

Scotland shifted his grip on the wheel, checking his blind spot before merging back into traffic. “You know you don’t have to be worried. You still have your safewords and all the power here.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. Me? Worried? There isn’t a kink out there that I haven’t tried.”

How many times had he said that lately? Sure, he had a tally that he’d subconsciously kept, but most of that had been with one man. Scotland was nothing like Ross.

“You can’t love them all,” said Scotland, sending him a soft smile. “And if you did, I’d be worried.”

“I didn’t say I loved them all.” There were a few he decidedly hated…like needle play, which just brought back memories of his nursing days with grown men screaming at him when it took more than two seconds to find a vein for a blood draw. No thank you.

“I’m nervous, I guess…excited. I haven’t been excited like this for a long time.” Clint looked out of the window in time to catch sight of an adult store on a street corner. The place didn’t look like much, but it was another gem. And it probably would have gone out of business without Unkinked’s support. He still made sure to order his weekly supplies from them.

“So, what are we doing?” asked Clint, bouncing his leg up and down as Scotland turned down another street. “Streaking? Oh, a little romp in the park? Or maybe some action in a movie theater?”

Streaking was probably in his top ten, but he had to do it somewhere safe and controlled like the club where he wasn’t going to accidentally stumble upon someone underage.

“Nope.”

He slumped his shoulders before scratching at the inside of his wrist. “Are you going to tell me?”

Secrets were fun, but the way Scotland did them always seemed to give him a heart attack. He was never going to forget how unprepared he had been to see Izzy and Rowes like that.

“We’re going to a gym. I have a membership at one of the bigger places in town here. They’ve got a boxing ring that I thought you might want to try out.” Scotland sent him a smirk. “You can’t believe that I got these arms just from chopping wood.”

Scotland flexed, and Clint had to fight to keep from drooling. That may have been exactly what he’d thought. He’d spent far too much time picturing Scotland chopping wood with no shirt on, his tattoos rippling with each strike. He’d even considered starting a fire on his own just to see Scotland rush over and split some extra logs.

“Is it kinky boxing?” That was a great idea. Maddy would love it. Even better would be boxing while covered in lube and armed with a few toys. The first one to get stuffed would lose. “Hold that thought. I have to send Maddy a text.”

He dug out his phone, powering it up. He ignored the few notifications before sending the idea off to Maddy and powering it down again.

* * * *

The place was fancy as all hell, with more machines than Clint could easily count and mirrors on every wall. It was packed with people in way better shape than him and a few others he could see himself bonding with. Anyone who wanted to better themselves with exercise was someone worth talking to.

He glanced at his belly, which wasn’t as flat as it had once been. He still made sure to keep in shape, but there were only so many hours in a day. Not having the bar anymore had helped. Even a single beer per night could pack on the calories, which he certainly didn’t burn while bent over paperwork.

“This place makes my dumbbells and yoga mat look very softcore.” He watched a few videos online every once in a while, following along to keep himself limber. And on quiet days at the club, he set an hour or two aside for lifting. It had been a lot easier lately with Maddy looking after things.

“This is nothing,” said Scotland, raising one brow. We’re headed to the basement. Once we’re down there, you call me ‘Sir’.”

Clint swallowed, his throat clicking as a bolt of heat went straight through him. How did Scotland always seem to know what he wanted three steps ahead of Clint himself? Public scenes were his absolute favorite. There was something so dirty about being himself in public, with others none the wiser. There was also a thin line that couldn’t be crossed.

Scotland will know that, right?

Clint tucked himself one pace behind Scotland, falling into his submission with a sigh. It was getting easier to go there, with his mind quiet and his thoughts focused on Scotland. There was no need to worry about himself or how he looked. Scotland would let him know if there was an issue.

He still couldn’t believe he actually trusted the guy. Scotland had pestered him for so long, and Clint had kept that wall built high with the sturdiest bricks available. Bricks erode, too.

After stepping through the doors of an unexpected elevator, Clint leaned against the wall, eyeing up the array of buttons. Scotland swiped a card through a slot before pressing the button marked only as ‘B’.

“How big is this place?” It appeared to be maybe three floors from the outside, but there were a hell of a lot more than three buttons.

“I’ve met a lot of different people on my table,” said Scotland, skimming his hand over one of his tattoos. Had he done the art himself? Or had someone else carved the marks into his skin? Clint’s hands twitched as he tried to rid himself of the image of someone else’s hands piercing Scotland’s flesh.

“Jealous?” said Scotland, quirking his lips. “My needle gave a woman an orgasm once. I was doing a small piece on her inner thigh and bam.”

Clint narrowed his eyes before crossing his arms. “Definitely not jealous, Sir. I love watching women, but I don’t want to make one come. I think we’re in the same boat on that front. Besides, if you would have tattooed my thigh, I would have come, too. All the cock rings in the world wouldn’t have stopped me.”

Of that, he was absolutely certain.

The after-effects of the invisible tattoo he’d received had been slightly less pleasant. He’d itched up a storm for a few days, and there was a small red area left behind that was dry and scabby. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

Scotland’s hands were on him in a moment, one wrapped around his throat as he pressed Clint into the wall, and the other at his chest. The elevator dinged as it slid to a halt, the doors sliding wide to reveal a dark room. Clint couldn’t budge an inch with Scotland pinning him, the weight of his body like a drug.

“I would put a needle on you again in a heartbeat,” said Scotland, dragging his lips over Clint’s ear. “But first I would light a candle, and hold it close enough that you could feel the heat of it, dripping wax on your skin until you would be blushed bright red. I’d have so much fun scraping the wax from your skin, bringing the flame closer and closer until all you could do was feel the burn. After you started whimpering, I would put a needle on that same spot. You’d scream for me.”

His throat clicked as Clint swallowed, his cock instantly hard in the track pants that Scotland had insisted he wear. The doors creaked, sliding shut and locking them tight in a small room with only their breaths.

“Please, Sir.” Clint wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. It had been days of edging, and even more before that when Scotland had taunted him, following him around the club until he’d haunted Clint’s dreams.

Scotland shrugged, pulling away all at once and pressing the button to open the doors again. He held his hand over the gap so they didn’t slide shut, looking over his shoulder, as if he were confused that Clint hadn’t moved. He didn’t seem to notice the flush on Clint’s cheeks or the way his cock was attempting to poke its way right through his pants.

“You coming?” asked Scotland, his voice way too loud in the small space.

Clint gritted his teeth, doing his best to tuck his cock so he didn’t get it caught in something at the gym. “I fucking hope so, Sir.”