20. Maddox

TWENTY

MADDOX

The manager at Club Alpha gives us both an unimpressed look. "I want you to know that I was against this, but Silvano is a personal friend. But you're on thin ice. If I see anything that I don't like, you'll be permanently banned, and Silvano won't be able to pull favors again."

Knives nods quickly. "Understood, Ma'am. We've, ah, resolved our issues. Nothing like that will ever happen again."

I'm still not sure it was a good idea to come back.

I have several missed calls and unanswered texts from Carl—messages I haven't answered because there was really nothing to say. I hadn't thought I'd have to own up to it, but now that cowardice seems like it's going to bite me in the ass because there's a good chance I'm going to run into him tonight.

At Knives's side, no less.

"Understood," I echo.

She looks between us, clearly doubtful, but she nods. "We'll see."

I wait for her to leave before I turn to face Knives. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I know it'll take a few days, but I can get more equipment. We don't have to be here."

Knives scowls. "I'm not chickening out." He turns and turns that fierce expression on me. "Unless you don't want everybody here to know that you're mine now?"

I cross my arms against my chest. "Have I been hiding it?" I challenge him.

Knives relaxes and shakes his head. "No. Sorry. Bad habits." He sighs and starts walking into the main play area. I follow closely behind, unsure if I'm relieved or disappointed that he doesn't attempt to manhandle me or show any obvious signs of ownership.

It's one thing for people to know we're dating.

It's another to show up here and be openly submissive to him. I'm not ashamed of being a sub, but that was when the mafia and personal parts of my life were separate.

If Silvano can do this kind of stuff and still be seen as competent and in charge, though, then so can I.

I grab his arm, stopping him just shy of the play room. "Hey," I say, pulling him in close to me. "I'm not hiding, Nayeem."

Knives meets my gaze, then nods. "Yeah. Uh, maybe it's not you who's nervous. I've never been in this club with a real partner. Or any club."

"Neither have I," I say. "I know you think I was ‘with' Carl or whatever, but that was just playing."

Carl had wanted it to be real, though. He'd wanted to be my Dom, to take care of me and make sure I didn't work too much and whatever else he'd thought being with me would consist of.

Knives and I reach the main hall, with the St. Andrew's Cross I'd been bound to last time still front and center. I stare at it with a mixture of dread and desire.

"You're into getting shown off?" Knives asks, catching my gaze. "Well, I know you're very into semi-public sex."

My cheeks flush hot. "I…" I don't want to say yes, but I don't want to lie, either. I sigh, nodding. "Yeah. I kinda like when people watch."

Kinda might be an understatement.

It's dangerous, and it puts me at risk, and still I love it. That might have been why I'd dared to volunteer for the demonstration in New Valence, too.

Well, that, and how pissed off I'd been at Knives.

Knives grins at me. "I wasn't throwing you into every nearest closet I could because I don't enjoy the thrill." He grips my shoulder and squeezes tightly. "Is that what you want to do? I'll work you over in front of everyone, and when you're completely high out of your mind, I'll drag you into a private room and shove my cock down your throat, your own cock aching hard and waiting for me to touch it."

I close my eyes, fighting back a groan. I can imagine it already. I'm going to be so ready for him— beyond ready for him. "Hell, yeah," I say hoarsely, leaning in to claim a savage kiss. Fuck, my cock is already getting hard just from the thought of what he wants to do with me.

He kisses back, but when I start grinding against him, he tugs on my hair roughly to break the kiss. "Getting ahead of yourself there, Mads."

I'm not going to get tired of him calling me that any time soon. I didn't even realize how much I'd missed it. A few people have used that nickname, but it didn't mean anything.

Not like it does with Knives.

With Nayeem .

It still feels strange to call him that, though, especially in public.

"Am I, though?" I ask him. "I think I'm just getting in the mood."

Knives laughs and releases me. "Let's find those floggers so I can really put you through your paces. It would be a shame for the show to end before it even gets started."

I want to argue, but it's not like I've been going without sex. I've had more sex in the past few weeks than I have in years—and a surprising amount of it has been in an actual bed.

"This way," I tell him, leading him through the club.

It really shouldn't surprise me when we run right into Carl, and my erection starts to wane. Fuck. I'd known this was probably going to happen, but that didn't mean I hadn't been hoping it wouldn't.

"Hi, Carl," I say, looking warily between him and Knives.

Knives crosses his arms and scowls, but he stays quiet. I'm grateful he isn't picking a fight right off the bat.

Carl is just as tense. "Maddox. I've been trying to reach you. I was really worried about you after…" He trails off and glances at Knives.

"Yeah," I say, running a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry. I was out of town, and I lost my phone…" I trail off, all too aware that it all sounds like excuses—and fake ones, at that. "Seriously. It was hell at work, then I just haven't had a chance to answer texts or anything. This is my first night off in?—"

He's giving me that look, the one that's all serious, by-the-rulebook Dom and completely no-nonsense. I realize too late that he's not going to like that answer because he doesn't like it when I work myself half to death.

If only he knew the truth.

"It's none of your business," Knives cuts in. "I've been taking care of Maddox. You don't have to worry about him." He drapes an arm around my shoulder possessively.

"Which is why he's been working himself into an early grave," Carl snaps at him. "Or are you just not letting him talk to other men?"

"It's not like I can't take care of myself," I say sharply, scowling. "I'm not some helpless twink who needs to be coddled. For fuck's sake, Carl. I could probably bend you over my knee."

Carl has the decency to look sheepish, at least. He sighs. "Yeah, I know. But when you go under, you really go under. Can't help it if I get a bit protective."

Knives bites his lip, and I can tell he wants to argue, but in the end he only squeezes me lightly.

"It's my choice," I say to Carl. "But you can watch while Knives flays my back open."

Carl's eyes widen in alarm. "Flays your back open?"

"Not literally," Knives interjects. "Jesus, Mads, now you're making me look bad on purpose."

I smirk. "Okay, fine. He's just going to?—"

Knives gives me a look.

All right, so maybe I'm pushing it just a little.

"It's just going to be a mild flogging," I say, sighing. "The scene has already been negotiated, Carl."

Carl doesn't look convinced—or happy about the situation—but he backs off. "They moved the floggers," he says begrudgingly. "They're in the second play room instead of the big closet."

I finally smile at him. "Thanks for that." I pause, then add, "Thanks for everything, Carl. Really. I'm sorry I didn't answer you. I really did lose my phone, then I was overwhelmed, and it got a little rough." I glance at Knives. "But it's all up from here."

Knives smiles back at me. "Yeah. We just needed a life-or-death experience to get our shit sorted."

Carl's expression morphs into horror. "Life or death?"

I snort and say, "Also not literally."

Knives releases me with a laugh and claps me on the back. "All right, let's find these floggers so I can show everybody how it's done. You will not be coherent by the time I'm through with you, Mads."

I let out a low groan, already forgetting about Carl as we walk past him and toward the play room. "You'd better work me over as good as you say you will," I warn him. "Or I'll find some other Dom to give it to me."

"You are not finding some other Dom unless you want me to punch a few teeth out," Knives answers cheerfully. "Maybe his, maybe yours."

I laugh, leading us into the room. "Your pick of the floggers," I say, gesturing at the display.

Knives goes to the case and assesses the available tools. None of them are too extreme, but they aren't beginner tools either. Knives ends up picking one with multiple tails and a thick, braided leather. It's not like the soft one Carl had picked out the last time.

Knives looks at me, his hands rubbing over the leather, and says, "Do you need a safeword? I'll stop if you tell me to, unless you want to pretend not to be into it."

"I've never used a safeword," I admit. "Never played with anyone hardcore enough to need it." My eyes are glued to the flogger, to the rough leather and the way I imagine it's going to fall so heavily against my skin. "Just for the sake of appearances, if anyone asks, I use the stoplight system. But I know you can figure out my limits." I quirk a brow at him. "Right?"

How much experience has he actually had with floggers? He said he'd never had a partner at one of these clubs, but that doesn't mean he's never been.

Knives meets my gaze. "Did I ever push you too far before?"

"Not far enough, if anything," I tell him, not breaking the stare. "I trust you." I shrug. "If I didn't, we wouldn't be here right now."

He nods and leans in to kiss me briefly. "All right. Let's go, before we both get too frustrated."

I walk side by side with him over to the St. Andrew's Cross, which is mercifully unoccupied. Carl is sitting on one of the benches beside it, and he sits up when we approach.

"No interrupting," I say to him, resisting the urge to sigh at our self-appointed babysitter. "No matter what happens. If I'm not safewording, I'm fine."

Knives suppresses a laugh. "Hopefully it won't come to that."

"It won't," I say. "You know my words, Carl."

He nods. "Just… Let me watch over you, just this once, Maddox." He sounds tired, and I hate that I'm partially to blame for that.

I sigh. "Yeah, okay. But when he drags me off into a private room, that's our time. All right?"

"Got it."

With that out of the way, I take my shirt off, going to the cross. I rest my chest against the cool wood, and Knives secures my wrists into place. I don't really need the bondage, but I like it, and I'm not going to argue with him using it.

Knives kisses my shoulder—still sore from the bullet wound—before stepping back. "Just a warm up first," he says. "And I don't want to hear you complaining that you can take it harder."

I roll my eyes. "I will, if you chicken out. You know I can?—"

Knives snaps the flogger across my back. It's a light tap, not too painful, but I feel the leather thud against my skin. Warmth spreads out from the impact zone.

I groan more out of surprise than anything, my body briefly tensing before I relax against the cross once more. "That… That was cheating," I say with a slight laugh.

"Watch out, if you backseat dom I'll dump you in a swamp somewhere," Knives threatens, his tone overly amused.

I can't help but laugh again, and I glance over my shoulder to see his face. I'm struck by just how fucking handsome he is, especially when he's relaxed like this.

"Face forward," he orders.

I obey, closing my eyes even as a smile lingers on my lips.

The next swing is harder, and it burns more, but it's still nothing I can't handle. I grunt through it and focus on the heat in my muscles.

"Gonna take a lot more than that, Nayeem…" I taunt.

"Forget the swamp, I'm dumping you in a mud pit," Knives growls. I'm about to taunt him again when the flogger lands on me again.

It isn't a warm-up tap anymore. It's a proper swing, intense, and the pain hits me instantly. The pain, then the pleasure, and the sound that it elicits comes from somewhere deeper this time. Yes. This is what I've wanted, what I've needed—what no other Dom has been able to satisfy.

Because it's always been Knives.

It's always been Nayeem .

He wields the flogger with skill, and one day, I'll ask him where he learned when he'd been in prison for so long. Not now, though; I don't want anything between us, let alone discussion of other people.

"Not complaining now, are you?" Knives asks between swings.

"I can… I can still talk…" I mumble, although my words are slurred. My body is trembling, and my forehead rests against the wood as I pant.

The next blow follows immediately, and I cry out. The way the flogger falls along my skin makes it spread wide, touching so much of my back with harsh leather. It feels so different from the usual, where whoever wields the flogger chooses something much softer. Even when they apply force, it doesn't feel this fucking good.

Several strikes later, I'm panting, sweating, and if Knives taunted me, I wouldn't be able to put any words together at all. My back is on fire, and each time the lashes land, I'm tempted to tell him to stop, that I've had enough.

Then the bliss following each blow hits hard, and all I want is more.

"Five more," Knives finally murmurs. "Can you take five more?"

I nod, making some attempt at speech that doesn't quite work.

I really do fall hard and deep.

The first strike is the worst, somehow, because now I'm anticipating the end. The second is a little better; the third is almost mild. But the fourth and the fifth have me screaming for more, and I realize I've been grinding my clothed cock against the cross to the point where I'm worried I might come at the slightest touch.

I wait for another blow, craving it and knowing it'll be so much, too much, but it doesn't come.

Knives steps closer, his breathing harsh and ragged. "If we were at home, I'd fuck you right now," he whispers against my ear. "But we're not. You don't even know how many people are watching right now. They're all so amazed at how much you took. At how red your back is."

His fingers trace one of the welts, and I whimper at the prickle of pain.

"Could take more," I manage, not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed when he moves so he can unfasten my wrists from the cross.

"Not today," he says. "I have other plans for you."

Oh.

Right.

My mouth waters at the mere idea of getting to suck his cock, and having him fuck my face sounds like the perfect way to continue this perfect high.

I stumble, surprised at how uncoordinated I feel, but Knives is already holding me steady. He's taking care of me, just like he had in that not-kink club and the god-awful swamp, just as he had back when we were dumb teenagers and I'd had nobody else I could trust.

I clutch his shirt and breathe in his scent. He's sweaty, but that only makes it better, more primal.

"All right folks, show's over," Knives says in a gruff voice. I hear some people mutter and walk away.

Then Carl is there, standing in front of us. "Maddox, are you cool with this?" he asks gently.

Knives's arm tightens around me.

I don't want to deal with either of them getting snippy, so I manage to get out as coherently as possible, "Mm. Negotiated."

And fuck, it's annoying having to reassure the whole club that my…

I burst out laughing, giddy and high, and say, "My boyfriend's fine."

Knives is silent, and I'm suddenly worried I said the wrong thing. But he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

"Yeah. Mads and I… I guess that's a good word. Now come on, boyfriend , let's get you taken care of." He pats the front of my jeans, torturing my rock-hard erection with that simple touch.

I want to say something clever, but the words just won't come.

That's fine. I have other things my mouth can be used for, and I only anticipate it more and more as Knives guides me toward one of the private rooms.

Once we're inside and the door has closed behind us, I shake off his hand so I can drop to my knees, already eagerly trying to get to his cock.

Knives laughs and grabs my hair. "Slow down, Mads. Let me get my belt and fly open."

I shake my head, mostly to feel how his fingers tighten. "More," I demand, although I'm not sure what, exactly, I'm demanding.

Just… him, I guess.

My fucking boyfriend.

It makes my lips twitch into a smile, and I nuzzle against his cock through his pants. "Hurry up," I tell him, my hands going to his ass cheeks and grabbing them hard. Fuck, I can't wait to gag on his dick, but telling him that… Words are too fucking hard right now.

Knives undoes his belt—and I remember how he'd tied me up with that—and pulls away so he can get his cock out. As soon as it's free, I bury my nose against it and lick along the shaft.

Knives lets out a low groan. "F-fuck, Mads. You keep doing that, I'll come down your throat and won't be able to fuck your ass."

I don't really fucking care at this point. I just want to taste him, to feel him, to choke on him while he holds me in place and fucks my mouth. I groan around his cock, but I don't let up, instead taking more of him past my lips.

"It was… going to be my surprise," Knives says, gripping my hair tighter and pulling me off him. He squats down so we're eye level. "I know you'd say yes even if you weren't so gone, but I want you to know, I got the test results back. I'm officially safe to fuck your ass raw. If you want."

I stare at him, taking the time to absorb his words. As I process them, the need to have him fuck my face takes a complete back seat to the idea of him fucking my ass bare for the first time since we'd been teenagers. "My ass," I say, wobbling as I grab his hair to pull him in close for a kiss.

He obliges, kissing me harshly and digging his fingers into my arms. We somehow end up lying on the floor, him on top of me, completely surrounding me. I don't know of many guys who are big enough to overpower me like this—who I'd allow to overpower me like this—but it's exhilarating.

I never want to lose him again.

We may have been teenagers when we'd first been together, but that bond had never truly gone away. The years that had passed had made love fester into his hatred and my self-loathing, but now…

Now we have the chance for something new.

It's his turn to reach for the button on my jeans, to pop it and unzip them and start to drag them down with so much ferocity it makes me moan all over again.

"Hurry… Hurry up," I say, my voice still slurred, but I can't wait much longer for him to finally fuck me without a goddamn condom in the way.

Knives groans, and after one more kiss, he pulls back. I whine, but he manhandles me so I'm lying facedown, my ass exposed. I lift my hips in anticipation.

"You're so fucking hot," Knives whispers, slapping my bare ass before pulling my cheeks apart. He drags his erection against my hole, hot and tempting and completely bare.

I arch up, trying to encourage him to move faster, but he stops. I hear the sound of something being torn, and disappointment briefly makes my breath stutter as I think he's putting a condom on after all.

But then the very slick head of his cock is poised at my hole, shoving inside without mercy, and I let out a hoarse scream as he starts to fuck me.

It's so, so fucking good.

He fills me so completely, his large cock nailing my prostate almost instantly. I curl my fingers against the slick tile floor and try to meet his thrusts, but I'm useless, my entire mind overwhelmed by the pleasure and how rough he is and?—

And how he leans forward to kiss the back of my neck, how he's whispering, "Mads, Mads, Mads," over and over.

"Nayeem," I answer, just to say his name.

It's hard and rough and I'll be feeling this for days. I'll be feeling him for days.

Right now, it's perfect, everything I want, and the harder he drills against my prostate, the more I moan and cry out until I'm sure everyone in the damn club can hear it. Let them. Let them all know that I'm not ashamed about letting Knives completely overwhelm me like this.

I get closer and closer to climax, every thrust pushing me a little closer to the edge, until I'm right there on the precipice. It only takes a handful of harsh jerks of Knives's hips before I'm coming all over the floor, and he groans as my entire body spasms.

Then he's spilling, too, right into my ass—bare, nothing in the way this time, as heat floods into me.

I've needed this so much.

My cock is oversensitive as it rubs against the floor, but I don't care. I'm a fucking puddle, and I couldn't care less about any residual discomfort.

He nips the back of my neck, breathing hard against my skin, then slowly withdraws out of me.

I let out a disgruntled sound, and he only chuckles.

"Fuck. Fuck, Mads." Knives pulls me closer to him. "You're so… I'm…." He laughs and kisses the side of my jaw. "I don't know what I'm saying. I can't stop smiling."

"You, smiling?" I manage after a moment. I laugh, too, feeling sleepy and happy and utterly spent. "World must be ending."

We lay quietly, enjoying each other's warmth, until Knives says, "Fuck. We need to get up. I need to take care of you." He goes quiet. "Like I should have been taking care of you this entire time."

It's hard to form words, let alone entire sentiments, but it's important that I get this across. "You did when it mattered most," I say. When he'd taken me home, when he'd taken care of me in New Valence… He'd been there for me when I'd fallen hardest.

Maybe I'm being too forgiving. Maybe I just hate myself too much. But all I know is that I don't want Knives to feel a fraction of the self-loathing I've felt all these years.

"Lily's been giving me shit for how I acted," Knives admits. "She says it was obvious I still had feelings for you, and that I could have skipped the abusive parts to get to… here." He lets out a long sigh. "She's right. But I did have my head up my own ass, and I couldn't see beyond my hurt and betrayal."

Abusive parts?

That knocks me out of subspace faster than anything else he could've said, and I struggle to sit upright. "You weren't abusive," I say. "A total dick, yeah, but I wouldn't go as far as abusive ."

Knives gives me a look. "I dragged you into closets and fucked you without even asking. And I know, I know. You could have said no, and you could have fought back harder. But I did also start a fist fight in this very club because of, well, my head being constricted by my ass."

I sigh, facing him, and I touch his bearded cheek gingerly. "Well, I won't argue with you about that," I tell him. "But I get it, Nayeem. I do. I've hated myself for years over this. How could I expect you not to be pissed too?"

He laughs bitterly. "Guess we both had issues. Anyway." He sits up and kisses me softly. "Let's clean up so we can go home. To my place, since it actually has decent furniture."

I slide back to the floor on my back, wincing as the marks on my back flare up in pain. "You can clean up," I tell him. "I'm just gonna lie here and watch."

"Sure." Knives goes to the cabinet in the corner of the room, which has cleaning supplies both for humans and toys. The floor will need a good wipe down too, judging by how my ass is smearing cum across the tiles.

He meticulously wipes himself and me down before getting to work tidying the room. It's while he's putting all the supplies back that I'm suddenly struck by how young he still looks, despite everything we've gone through.

"I love you," I blurt out.

Knives freezes. "Uh, you're still high, huh. Just rest up, Mads. I'm almost done here."

The lack of reciprocation doesn't bother me as much as it probably should. "I'm not," I insist. "I mean, I'm high, but I know what I'm saying."

He'd sort of killed a little bit of the buzz when he'd called himself abusive, after all.

Knives ducks his head, and it looks like he's counting to ten before he looks back at me. "Mads… I was going to wait a few months and take you on a romantic date somewhere and then we'd have a whole sunset of mushy feelings. Probably not an outdoors-y date, but one of the restaurants with a private balcony dining room. During sunset. And there'd be fancy desserts before we talked about feelings ."

"You were going to take me on a mushy date and talk about feelings?" I repeat, sure I'm hearing him wrong. "Are you secretly a romantic, Nayeem?"

He blushes and groans. "No. But I've never… The only person I've dated is you, Mads. I don't know what kind of stuff is good! I wanted to do it right and proper. And maybe give you time to change your mind before I went all in."

I scoff at him. "I'm not going to change my mind. Fuck, why would I? Just because we almost died or some shit?" I try to tease, but it seems to fall flat. "It doesn't change how I feel. And you don't have to say it back. Okay?"

Now Knives gives me a strange look. "You might if you decided you didn't want to put up with my shit after all, Mads. And I basically just said it back! In a roundabout way. Without the words."

I almost laugh, but I don't want him to take it the wrong way. So instead, I stand up, crossing the room to him and pulling him into my arms. "We'll figure it all out," I murmur against his neck. "We have time. Sorry to spring that on you."

He hugs me back. "Yeah. We have time." After a beat, he adds, "Love you too, Mads. Probably always have."

I don't know what has me flying higher: the scene, the fucking, or the fact that he loves me too.

"We're disgusting," I tell him anyway, feeling a little self-conscious by all the feelings we're sharing. "Let's get out of here. You're going to take me home and help me shower and tuck me into bed." I smirk at him. "If you're lucky, I'll let you stay."

Knives rolls his eyes. "We're going to my place, so of course I'm staying."

"Sure, fine," I say.

The truth is, I don't care where we're going… as long as we're together.

And not in the fucking swamp.