In the Rough

by Sara Brookes

  “Hope you’re just practicing.”

  Enver glanced up to see Oz standing in the doorway. “What?” He looked down and scowled. He’d gotten so caught up in his thoughts, he’d taken the piece past the point of use. “Shit.” He dumped the rounded blob of metal into a nearby bucket of water, avoiding the plume of steam as he tossed the hammer to a nearby table.

  “Think the pictures you’ve shown me of your first pieces as an apprentice were better than that.” Oz eyed him as he stepped inside the workshop. “You all right, buddy?”

  Enver stripped away his safety goggles and rubbed at the pressure stacking up behind his eyes. “Metal got away from me.”

  “It never gets away from you.” Oscar Nakamura scooted onto the table filled with Enver’s tools, wiggling back against the pile of tools to make room. Oz was a short man, so his scarred and dirty boots dangled several inches from the ground.

  “You’ve been working too.” Enver pointed to the thick layer of rubber sole that protected Oz when he chose to play around with electricity. He removed his protective glove and shoved it into his back pocket as he straddled the anvil. “Looking for something new?”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  Enver thought about the wide assortment of metal he’d already made for his friend. “Don’t you have enough toys already?”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of placing an order?” Oz slapped his palm against the center of his chest, his thermal shirt wrinkling as he clenched the fabric. “That hurts, man. If you don’t want my money, I can take my business elsewhere.”

  “Go right ahead.” Enver folded his arms. “Who else gives you the same kind of quality I do at the price I charge? No one.”

  “Fuck you.” Oz flipped his middle finger up.

  Enver chuckled as he crossed the workshop to draw off two feet of brown craft paper from a roll and retrieved a black grease pencil from his nearly bare desk. “What are your specs?”

  “Looking for a new plug. Nothing too unusual, but something that would definitely catch attention. Curvy, but has a sturdy handle. Five or six sections.” Enver noticed the glassy cast that had glazed over Oz’s eyes as he’d been describing his wish list. Oz took delight in metal toys the same way some men lusted after their lovers. “Can be graduated or equally sized. I’ll leave that up to you.” He paused, his brow wrinkling as he dropped into deep thought. “Scratch the handle.”

  “Gonna need something to retrieve it, my friend. Or you’re going to be paying a hefty hospital bill.”

  “I’m not an idiot.” Oz scowled. “Been playing with asses for as long as I remember and haven’t lost a piece yet. I need something that is versatile enough for long-term wear, like a flared plug end. But gives me something to grip on to when things get intense. Needs space for me to add power to it.” He extracted his phone and fell silent as he searched for something. “Like this, but...not.”

  He handed the phone to Enver, who glanced at the screen and saw a mass-produced butt plug with a jewel-encrusted base that had a connection for a TENS unit. Though he was used to Oz’s kink for electricity play being added to his toys, this wasn’t the typical piece Oz usually asked for. He usually went for larger plugs that were straightforward. Cock rings that did the job denying orgasm. No flash or flare. Just an implement that prepped a submissive for the eventual fucking of a lifetime.

  What Oz was describing was something long-term lovers would exchange.

  Enver thought about the specifications carefully, an idea forming in his mind based on his previous work for Oz. He worked quietly for a few minutes making adjustments. In the end, he had a plug with a jewel-encrusted base that would be comfortable for long-or short-term wear. On one side of the bottom was a receptacle to allow the plug to be connected to a TENS unit.

  He stood, staring down at the sketch and already seeing where he would make adjustments. This would give Oz a foundation Enver could build off of. “Looking for any color out of this or just the usual?”

  “It’s scary how you can pluck ideas out of my head and bring them to life.” Oz stroked his fingers over the rough sketch and whistled. “Add some red, if you don’t mind, and then it’s perfect.”

  Enver made note of the request, jotting his initials in the corner of the paper as his acceptance as the metalsmith. “Anyone in mind for this beauty?”

  “Just an idea I had.” Oz’s eyes clouded again for a moment before clearing.

  They’d been friends long enough for Enver to know the man didn’t lie often, but he also knew him well enough to know that statement had been a total fabrication. But Enver’s job wasn’t to question his friend’s motives. He had a service to provide. He jotted down a price by his initials, knocking some off his usual fee because Oz was one of his best customers and a fellow Dom at Noble House.

  Oz took the grease pencil and signed his name. “You should really get a computer instead of this rudimentary system you’ve got going.”

  “Have one.” Enver pointed to the entrance where he’d used a battered and dusty tower to prop open the door of the workshop when he needed extra ventilation. He rolled up the sketch, carrying it with him to the corner where he kept his bar stock. He took down a few strips of metal, his mind already formulating how to shape the piece into the desired shape.

  “Normal people don’t use those things as a doorstop.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and gave Oz a sly smile. “Normal people don’t commission custom butt plugs to be used in a power exchange scene. Or cock rings. Or nipple clamps. Or—”

  “All right, all right. I’ll shut up about your lazy accounting practices and you’ll make my order without any more questions.” Oz jumped off the table, a puff of dust rising as he landed. “You going to be at the club tonight?”

  Enver dropped the pieces back into their storage spots. The metal wasn’t ideal for his use this time. Of course, what he did want, he didn’t have on hand. “I can be if you need something.”

  “Jesse has been hinting at some rope play. I’ve been working on it, but could really use some assistance.” Oz held up a hand. “I know, I know. No sex. Not asking for you to join in. Just need a pair of experienced eyes.”

  Maybe that work would distract him enough to keep him in the right frame of mind. To keep from chastising himself for unleashing the caged beast inside him. He hated the idea of returning to the club again so soon, but Oz wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t truly need help. Distance was usually the only thing that kept the lock engaged, spreading out the days so he could get into the right headspace again before returning. He’d just have to keep his head down and focus on whatever Oz needed.

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks. Jesse’s supposed to be there around ten. Meet me in Court around nine-thirty for some setup? No delivery date on that, by the way.” Oz gestured to the sketch.

  If Enver were a betting man, he guessed the man Oz was fascinated with was someone who was already a part of his life. Not a member of Noble House, obviously, because Oz wouldn’t have restrained his desires if that was the case. That wasn’t his nature.

  After Oz left, Enver tidied his workshop. If he was going to be at Noble House by nine, and pick up the metal for the plug he’d just been commissioned to make, he’d need to leave soon. The drive would give him plenty of time to map out a way to avoid Marcus.

  Something told him he’d already lost that battle.

  Chapter Six

  Marcus leaned back in his chair and stretched. He’d been hard at work for the past eight hours, immersing himself in smoothing the last few details on the computer model of Enver. Which meant he was in desperate need of a break. He shut the system down for the night, and locked the room as he left.

  Loud music filtered through speakers as he stepped out into the hall, signaling that club action was in full swing. He angled toward Court. Real live action would be a ni
ce and well-deserved change of pace. Not to mention it kept him from reliving the moment he’d caught Enver jacking off in his car. It certainly hadn’t been the first time he’d watched someone pleasure themselves, but that level of desperation... Nothing short of spectacular.

  The throbbing music of Court pressed against him as he stepped through the room’s double doors. The dim lighting should have given privacy, but instead it somehow enhanced it. This was further highlighted by the strategically placed spotlights aimed at the more shadowy corners of the large space.

  He’d measured off the room before and taken copious notes about the décor, but he’d been the only one there at the time. Now, it was teeming with energy and life. The concrete floor that had been bare now had plush, heavy pile area rugs to further delineate scene areas. The exposed structural supports for the second floor he’d dimensioned were now camouflaged behind ornate maroon drapery printed with the club’s herald in gold. Eyebolts had been embedded in a handful left bare to be used as anchors for rope or chain play.

  The roped-off scene areas were full, with an assortment of activities occurring that anyone was free to observe. Pony play. Knife play. Extreme bondage. Though they were all interesting enough to compel him to watch, he stopped looking when he spotted Enver in a scene area in the far corner.

  The man he stood with was far shorter and younger. For a split-second Marcus thought he was watching a Dom negotiating a scene with his submissive. But after a few moments, he noticed interesting things about their body language. They didn’t touch or look at one another except to acknowledge an understanding or ask a question. Their postures were relaxed as they moved around the area, but it was more in line with two men who were good friends than sexual partners. As Enver tied off a length of rope, then unknotted it and offered it to the man, it was clear Enver was instructing the other man in the art of shibari. Though Marcus had no experience with the ancient Japanese artistic form of rope bondage himself, he’d seen the practice used a few times at other clubs.

  As Marcus drew closer, the music faded and allowed him to hear the conversation between the two Doms.

  “Most important thing to remember is to keep the weight on the rope and the wood. Keep checking the pressure points we talked about.” Enver looped a strip of rope around his own wrist, yanking on it so the skin underneath visibly turned white. He held it in place as he used the opposite hand to try to wiggle his forefinger under. “You see any discoloration of the skin, readjust or stop the scene entirely to re-tie. Nine times out of ten, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Good rule of thumb is you need to be able to comfortably get a finger between the rope and the skin, right?” The other Dom demonstrated this as he asked.

  “Exactly,” Enver said with a nod as he slipped the rope off his wrist. “In this instance, you’re going to want to use a knot that will allow your sub to struggle as much as he wants, but won’t slip out of place.”

  While they continued to talk, another man crossed the scene barrier, placed a small bag next to the swing rig and went to the corner of the area. There, he stripped off his white shirt and pants, exposing dark skin that had been honed and chiseled into a decadent display of masculinity. As he added his underwear to the clothing pile, Marcus caught the glint of metal. When the sub shifted, Marcus noticed he had a barbell piercing running horizontally through the tip of his penis.

  As the sub kneeled on the large pillow, he fit a circle of metal just beneath the crown. Within the space of a few breaths, the man’s cock hardened, jutting from between his thighs in a rigid arc.

  Neither Dom acknowledged his presence, continuing their discussion as the sub’s hands came to rest palm-up on the tops of his thighs and he bowed his head in a brilliant display of surrender.

  Enver made eye contact with Marcus as he turned. He acknowledged him with a silent nod, but stayed within the roped off area. Not dismissal, but not encouragement to come closer either. Enver stepped back, as though he intended to remain to provide guidance and suggestion but intent on giving the Dom a wide berth.

  Enver’s companion now stood in front of the kneeling submissive. The Dom crouched, speaking quietly as they discussed the parameters of the scene. The longer they talked, the more tension bled from the sub’s rigid shoulders. His head sagged low, his chin nearly touching his chest. The visual surrender was as humbling as it was beautiful.

  A true connection between a Dom and a sub who trusted one another.

  He’d witnessed interactions between subs and absolute Masters like Enver. Watching them had made him weak-kneed, aching to experience the supreme nirvana where the will of a Dom and the desire of the sub melded into a magical synergy. The reminder the careful back and forth still took place told Marcus this was the kind of club he would like to be a member of. But he couldn’t afford such a personal luxury since he’d sunk all of his savings into the tech he was developing. He’d rented a tiny house nearby that he could barely afford and missed the normalcy of owning his own home. Tending the lawn. Cooking a meal. Looking at the same view out his kitchen window while he washed dishes for years and years.

  The clink of metal pulled Marcus out of his musings. The Dom had positioned the sub against a thick length of wood that had been suspended horizontally from the ceiling. Though the submissive stood, he was bent forward slightly so his chin rested against the top side of the beam, his arms spread wide. The Dom took his time wrapping segmented lengths of rope around his partner’s wrists, biceps and shoulders. Satisfied, he stepped back, pulling on the loose end to lift the beam higher and forcing the submissive onto the balls of his feet.

  The Dom lifted the sub’s feet, angling the man’s legs back so his entire weight was supported by the beam. He tied the man’s ankles to a stout length of metal pipe jutting from the floor, ensuring the man’s toes were the only things touching the ground. The network of ropes and heavy-duty panic snaps secured the man.

  Enver moved in to offer advice, but pulled back into the shadows when the Dom grew more confident with the equipment. After another few long minutes, Enver stepped over the rope barrier and flagged Marcus.

  “Is he your apprentice?” Marcus leaned closer as he admired the Dom’s attentiveness.

  Enver shook his head. “Oz is one of the more well-established Doms here. He just needed guidance on equipment he wasn’t familiar with.”

  “Yours?” Marcus asked in surprise. “Not the sub, I mean the equipment. The ropes and the rigging?”

  “I made most of that, yes. Not the rope, though I do have a supplier for those.” He gestured to Oz, who was using a flogger on the man’s backside. Though Enver conversed with Marcus, his hawk-like gaze remained honed on the scene area. It pleased Marcus to see such a level of dedication. People didn’t take that kind of pride in their work anymore. Even he wasn’t that judicious.

  “The cock ring and plug are mine as well,” Enver added.

  “Wait...what? Did you just say you made it all?”

  Enver’s gaze slid over to him. “The panic snaps are a new design and I wanted to be sure he understood how they worked.”

  “I didn’t realize people made them.” The idea that Enver had taken the time to craft metal into that form pleased him, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  Enver turned his attention back to the scene. “It’s easier to go to the hardware store and pick up a handful, but you need to be confident some unknown robotic machine is responsible for either your sub or yourself depending on which side of the fence you’re stationed on. Most people don’t give it a second thought.”

  It occurred to Marcus that Enver’s reach wasn’t confined to only the scene. “You provide all the rigging equipment for the club, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Enver stated simply.

  The admission wasn’t surprising when Marcus thought hard about it. Enver came across as the guy who took that level of res
ponsibility seriously. It was his way of caring for each and every member at the club. He wouldn’t accept anything less and would probably lecture anyone who questioned his authority.

  “Have to admit, for a second I thought maybe you were going to join in.”

  “No.” Enver’s gaze darkened. “Split with my sub a few weeks ago.”

  “Not ready?”

  “That and I don’t want things to be uncomfortable for her,” Enver said slowly. “It was a mutual breakup, but it can be jarring to see your former Dominant engaging in a scene with someone else. Seems best to relegate my involvement to instruction...and helping you.”

  Marcus immediately felt guilty. “If you need to focus on something else, I get it.”

  “No, it’s all right.” Enver held up a hand to stop him. “Keeps my mind occupied. Bracey is smart and resilient. She’ll find someone much better suited for her eventually.”

  Marcus watched Enver examine everything and everyone in Court with a critical eye. “You did a good thing, you know. Not a lot of Doms would recognize the incompatibility and know it wasn’t working out for either of them. Takes a lot of strength to walk away instead of causing damage down the line.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it sometimes, but yeah, it’s for the best for both of us.”

  A realization washed over Marcus as he continued to watch Enver. “You’re not going to scene at the club until you’re sure she’s okay.”

  Enver sighed. “Not until I’m sure she’s truly all right.”

  Marcus wasn’t sure why, but he was suddenly struck with the overwhelming need to do something for Enver to take his mind off his troubles. “Busy later?”