In the Rough

by Sara Brookes

  He regretted the question as soon as he asked. Great segue, man. Too late to take it back now. Silence stretched out, and for a long time Marcus thought Enver hadn’t heard him.

  “Once I’m finished up here, I’m done for the night. Need more scans?”

  Though it was the perfect excuse, Marcus bucked his courage. “I haven’t eaten all day because I’ve been focused on work. Could use some company. If you’re up for it.”

  “Yeah.” Enver glanced to the scene. “Around eleven all right? Been a while since Jesse has scened, and even with the cock ring he’ll blow sooner than later. Excuse me,” he said, leaving without waiting for a response and stepping back into the scene area to offer a correction to Oz.

  As Marcus watched, it was easy to imagine Enver tending to his own submissive in the ropes. Binding his chosen partner for both their pleasure. Making trinkets specifically designed to torment and tease. Maybe a little too easy, especially after stumbling upon Enver pleasuring himself in the car. That kind of furiousness wasn’t something easily forgotten.

  Marcus’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket to signal an incoming text message. With his thoughts still tangled around that salaciously hot moment, he extracted his phone and swiped the screen without looking. When he finally shifted his focus to the device, he fumbled it, startled by the message.

  Ready for our next lesson, Mr. Holly?

  A picture arrived seconds later, the familiar face of one of his former students glaring at him through the screen. Ten years since the attack and eight years of prison had eroded Davis’s boyish features. The lean, sinewy high school senior had been replaced by wide shoulders and a thick bulk of someone who spent most of his time lifting weights. One thing hadn’t changed: the malevolent grin that reminded him of something out of a comic book.

  Marcus’s hands started to shake as bile churned in his stomach. He knew the day would arrive when he’d have to face Davis’s inevitable release, he just hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon. Then again, his time served was up.

  Marcus glanced longingly at Enver, who stood discussing a tie with Oz, helping the Dom with an adjustment. The compulsion to run zipped through his veins. He reminded himself that Davis had no way of knowing exactly where he was. Then again, he’d somehow gotten ahold of his phone number. Marcus suspected there was a bribe involved in that information.

  He dismissed the message, keying in his best friend’s contact information. “Davis is out of prison,” he said as soon as she answered. “He messaged me, Zoie.”

  “Are you kidding? Forward it to me,” she demanded, the sound of her fingers flying over a keyboard sounding through the connection. “I’ll try to find out how he got your number. Don’t do anything drastic right now. Promise me that much.” When he remained silent, she sighed. “Don’t give him the power, Marcus. Just keep living your normal life.”

  “Right.” His life hadn’t been normal since one of his students had attacked him with a container full of acid.

  Chapter Seven

  Enver expected to see Marcus waiting for him in the lounge. What he didn’t expect was to find Marcus beating his head lightly against one of the tables. He frowned as he slipped his hand in place so Marcus’s forehead connected with the back of his hand instead of the table. A tremble shook Marcus hard—almost violently—before his shoulders dropped, clearly in no rush to sit up.

  Enver’s heart leapt into his throat. Marcus looked like he was ready to crumble.

  The urge to flip his hand over to cradle Marcus’s face raced through his veins. Especially after assisting Oz with his scene. The residual traces of the power exchange weren’t new to Enver, but the overwhelming desire focused toward Marcus was. Funny thing was, he wasn’t interested in spending less time with Marcus in order to have it dissipate.

  “Long night?”

  “Long life,” Marcus said after finally lifting his head.

  Enver was startled by the dark shadows smudged under Marcus’s bloodshot eyes. The wet lashes that indicated he’d been crying. He pressed his lips together as though he was restraining a second flood. A moment later, he opened his mouth and released a low, frustrated sound.

  Enver couldn’t let him crumble, not like this. “Need to talk?”

  “Need a drink. Or seven,” Marcus muttered as he glanced toward the serving area.

  Enver had started to slide into the booth, but stopped. “That can be arranged.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out to Marcus again, his skin tingling where he’d touched him earlier. The way Marcus’s gaze kept darting around the lounge and the way he flinched whenever someone new walked through the doorway signaled something was truly wrong.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Can’t I find something here that will work?”

  “You’re about ready to jump out of your skin. Drinks from the Noble House bar aren’t going to cut through the nerves.” He continued at Marcus’s puzzled expression, wondering if this was the proper approach. If he was somehow making things worse. “We don’t serve anything near the strength you need. Just a bunch of fruit juices and energy drinks. You’re wired up enough as it is, don’t think you want to make it worse.”

  He gestured for Marcus to follow when one of the Noble House slaves appeared and dropped to her knees, blocking his path.

  “Master Enver. Permission to speak.”

  “Granted.” The response came without thinking due to years of play.

  Asha had gone for a glam look for the night. Her normally cotton-candy-pink hair had been stripped to blonde and was spun up into a fancy arrangement that had probably taken her a few hours to perfect just so a Dom could muss it. Her dress belled out as she knelt, and though he couldn’t see, he suspected she had on heels as high as skyscrapers.

  Under different circumstances, he would have made her stand, left her fully dressed in her vintage glam, adorned her body with an intricate network of his ropes and had her kneel again right there in the lounge while he enjoyed a drink.

  “I saw you with Oz and Jesse earlier and know you’re without a submissive right now.” Her voice took on a breathy quality. “I would like to offer myself if you’re available.”

  For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t tempted to enter negotiations with a willing submissive. “Though I appreciate the sentiment, I’m going to pass tonight, Asha. One of our resident geeks needs to forget whatever is bothering him.”

  “I would be happy to share you with him, Master Enver.” Her face lifted, her cheeks flushed as her enthusiasm poured forth. “I haven’t been with two Doms since Kochran decided I needed a behavior lesson.” Her gaze landed on a spot between his feet.

  The scene she’d mentioned was one of the most talked-about sessions amongst the Noble House membership. Saint and Boyce had spread Asha out on a table right in the center of Court and utilized one of Saint’s fucking machines. Everything had been going well until someone had set off a flash which had triggered Boyce’s PTSD. Feeds had been cut and Kochran had offered a lengthy explanation to members along with his apology.

  Though Asha had been genuinely worried about Boyce’s state, even this long after the incident, Enver could tell she had been disappointed the triad scene hadn’t been able to continue. He didn’t get the Dom vibe from Marcus, but Enver did get a sense he would follow clear instructions that would allow Asha to have that kind of scene. Under different circumstances, he may have considered it.

  “Copious amounts of alcohol and pretty slaves don’t mix, Asha. You know that.” He crouched, tracing one of the frown lines bracketing her lips. “Don’t look so sad, kitten. I saw Jannik hanging around the semi-private rooms earlier, dropping hints he was looking for a sub to play with in the garden room for a capture fantasy.”

  Her face lit up at the mention of the single Dom, her dress swinging around her knees as she stood. “Tha
nk you, Sir!” she exclaimed before rushing off, almost crashing into a couple coming through the lounge doorway.

  “Anxious as ever,” he said with a laugh. “Ready to head out?” He gestured for Marcus and left the lounge without waiting to see if he followed. The drive to get out of the club was a powerful throb in his veins. While he wasn’t interested in dismissing the obvious energy that kept arcing through him whenever Marcus was near, he decided not to tempt fate either.

  “That happen a lot?” Marcus asked when he caught up. “Subs throwing themselves at your feet?”

  “No. Asha was recently granted the position of House Slave. There are only a few of them, so I typically handle their initiation in one of the private areas. For hers, I was at the trade show playing pickup with a certain virtual reality tech.”

  Marcus’s eyes went wide as the implication sank in. “You don’t have to babysit me if you have other plans.”

  “My car or yours?” Enver swore he saw a flush creep over Marcus’s cheeks, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Maybe he’d just imagined it. Wanted it to be there because it would be a telltale sign he was interested. “Tell you what—since you want to drink, we’ll take mine. Just changed the brakes and gave her a tune up, so she should purr real nice. We’ll figure out the logistics of getting you home later.”

  Marcus cleared his throat. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

  Enver glanced over his shoulder, noticing that Marcus hung back even though he was still following him. “Everything all right?”

  “We can...do this another time.”

  “Why? I could use a drink or two myself.” Enver unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel. Marcus remained outside, his hands shoved into his pockets. Glancing over, he noticed the window framed the crotch of Marcus’s jeans. He also noticed Marcus had left the zipper down the last time he’d used the restroom. The gap in the fabric allowed him to see the telling ridge of a semi-erect dick. Looked like someone else had a little residual energy they needed to burn away as well.

  Hard to tell if it was from Oz’s scene or Asha’s offering.

  Enver leaned over, stretching out to reach the door and shoved it open enough to tap Marcus’s thigh. “You actually need to get in if we’re going to get anywhere. Unless you’ve got some Dukes of Hazzard fetish and want to climb through the window? This baby is the wrong year Charger, but she’d give that ’69 a run for her money.”

  Another few seconds passed before Marcus slid into the passenger seat. His gaze darted around the interior, just like inside the club. Enver thought he caught another flash of pink to his cheeks, but Marcus turned his face when he reached for the seatbelt. When he turned back, his expression was blank.

  As Marcus buckled in, Enver fired up the engine. The eight-cylinder motor roared to life, emitting a deep, rumbling growl that clearly announced it was ready to chew up the miles. He never got tired of that sound and worked hard to maintain the quality.

  Enver focused on maneuvering out of the narrow spot. “Most of us normally hang out at Screwdriver, but the owner and head bartender is currently tending to his submissive at the moment. Oz owns the bar,” he offered even though Marcus hadn’t asked.

  “He shuts down the bar when he’s here?”

  “Nah, just a different vibe when he’s not working. Anywhere in particular?”

  “I live in Ashes Fork. There’s an okay place on Main.”

  “The Gullible Octopus?” The low-key bar wasn’t the environment Enver suspected Marcus needed. Not only was it known for its vast selection of local brews on tap, it was also the kind of establishment known for random, anonymous hookups. Hence the apt name.

  “You’re familiar with it?”

  “Yeah, that’s the kind of place you go to in order to drink yourself stupid when you’re broken up over a lost love, not when you’re so stressed out you can’t remember to zip your fly.”

  Marcus hastily corrected the issue. “Thanks.”

  Enver chuckled. “Happens to the best of us, man. Don’t sweat it.” He dropped the car into gear and glided it through the parking lot. “The bar is also right next door to Vanilla.”

  “Their pastries are to die for.” Marcus’s face lit up in the first genuine spark of interest for the night. “Been almost every day since I moved in.”

  “Charlie would love to hear about a new regular.”

  Marcus’s gaze flicked toward the club as they passed the front entrance. “Is that one of your regulars?”

  Enver laughed as he guided the car down the lane toward the exit. “Charlie would never be caught dead in a place like Noble House. Let’s just say she lives up to her bakery’s name.” He gunned the engine after he turned the car down the narrow two-lane road leading away from the club. “How do you like what you’ve seen so far?”

  “Of the club?”

  “Everything.”

  Marcus stared out the window for a bit before answering. “Ashes Fork reminds me of home. Small enough to be quaint, but large enough still not everyone is all up in your shit.”

  Enver had grown up in a big city, so the feeling of small and quaint hadn’t taken hold of him until later in life. Since he’d bought the land up on the mountain he’d turned into his workshop, he couldn’t imagine returning to the noise and bustle he’d left behind.

  “Couple of regulars of the club live there. Ezra had a place nearby, I think, before he moved in with Kochran last month.”

  “We met a few days after I started. Met most of the tech employees, actually. No one beyond that, though.”

  The unique aspect of the club that allowed members from all corners of the globe to belong was also the drawback. It made Noble House seem so large. With the recent expansion of the online component that allowed members to play in a simulated replica of the club, Ezra was probably buried under a ton of work and hadn’t taken the time to make the rounds with Marcus.

  “I’ll take you around when you have some time. Let you at least meet some of the other staff. Have you made good progress?”

  “Better than expected.” Marcus turned slightly to face him, the lap belt allowing the freedom of movement. “I finished the model you helped me with, so you’re welcome to come see it anytime. Next few days, I’ll have a good working mock-up.”

  Enver noticed the relaxed posture and the rambling about the program. Whatever agitation Marcus had been experiencing earlier seemed to have evaporated. Good. He didn’t like seeing Marcus get so spun up. There wasn’t much Enver had to offer, but a night out bookended with conversation and drinking to forget he could deliver.

  “Mind if I ask you something personal?” He paused to offer Marcus an easy smile. “You’ve seen me naked, after all. Seems only fair.”

  Marcus eyed him as he gestured to the marks on his face. “These? Most people ask at some point.” He shrugged off the inquiry. “Not really much to talk about, to be honest. Just an accident a while ago. Me being my usual clumsy self.”

  The tone of the statement led Enver to believe there was more Marcus wasn’t disclosing. A story behind the scars that he wasn’t willing to talk about. Perhaps it was because they didn’t know each other well, or maybe Marcus was more sensitive about the injury than he wanted to admit.

  “They don’t hurt or anything. Haven’t for years. Only reason I remember they’re there is the odd looks I get when I’m out in public. Most people don’t pay them any attention, but a few people openly stare.” Marcus’s rambling abruptly stopped when Enver merged onto a four-lane highway. “I thought we were going to Ashes Fork.”

  “I know somewhere better,” Enver finally answered after a time, glancing at the clock and thinking they would arrive for the main performance. “Livelier.”

  “Let me guess—a shuffle board league tournament?”

  Enver gave him the side-eye and didn’t say anything for a long
time. He finally spoke as he turned off the main road. “Keep it up and I’ll put your name on the list of performers where we’re going.”

  Marcus look horrified. “For fuck’s sake. If you’re taking me to a karaoke bar—”

  Enver killed the engine and pointed to the building over Marcus’s shoulder. “Better.”

  * * *

  Marcus turned, spotting a one-story concrete building across the parking lot. Teal and purple lights shined down in vees that were reflected off the blinding white paint job that could probably be seen for miles. If that wasn’t enough, a wild array of vibrant colors flashed on the LED screen perched over the top of a sweeping arched steel awning that was like a beacon in the night.

  “Boylesque.” Puzzled, he slipped out of the car and looked at the line of people filling in all the space behind the barrier waiting to get in. “A drag club?”

  “Why not? Impossible to be sad around drag queens.” Enver waved at the bouncer as he gestured them through the set of double doors at the club’s entrance and right past the line of hopefuls eager to gain admittance. Lots of attitude was slung their way, which Enver just ignored. Not surprising, given the fact Enver didn’t seem to give a shit about what others thought.

  If there was ever a man who had no fucks to give, it was Enver Furst.

  “Come here a lot?” Marcus eyed Enver, curious about the ease with which he guided him through the front entrance and directly to the bar to order drinks. His familiarity with the establishment and those working behind the bar signaled he was more than a casual visitor. “I know, you’re secretly one of the performers.”

  “Watch it, kid.” Enver’s words lacked heat, further offset by the half grin he shot Marcus’s way as he shouldered his way to the front of the line. “One of the performers is a customer. She should be on in a few minutes, so we should grab a seat as soon as we can.” He gestured to the bartender then glanced at Marcus. He looked like he was going to ask something, but had changed his mind.

  Marcus barely listened to the drink order because he was too busy taking in the lights and sounds and smells of the club. The same color scheme on the outside of the club was reflected in the interior with a similar teal and purple lighting package.