“I’m really glad you came to the club last night.” Alan poured them both a cup of coffee. “Do you take milk or sugar?”
“And ruin the best coffee ever? Not a chance.” Craig took the offered cup and gave it an appreciative sniff before taking a sip. “Shit, that’s good.”
Alan winked at him. “Told you.” Alan took a drink of his own. “So, do we need to run by your house and grab you something to wear before we go to breakfast?”
Craig winced. “I guess we should. Or…I could cook us something and we could stay in.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Do you have the stuff for omelettes?”
“I should, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather go somewhere to eat?”
Craig felt his face heat. Normally he hated his tendency to blush, but Alan seemed to approve of the pink hue on his skin. “I think I’d rather stay here and hang out, if that’s okay.”
Alan smiled warmly and reached for Craig. Craig leaned into his touch when he stroked his thumb over Craig’s cheek. He fought the urge to close his eyes and sigh. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.” Alan pulled away and smiled at Craig. “Let me make a call. I’m taking the day off and we’re going to hang out until you get sick of me. How does that sound?”
“Amazing.” Craig wanted to scoff. Like he’d ever get sick of Alan.
Alan made his call while Craig washed his hands. By the time Alan came back into the room, Craig had stacked all the necessary ingredients on the counter. “Where do you keep your frying pans?”
Alan pointed to a cupboard and Craig bent to retrieve a pan. When he stood up, the too-large lounge pants fell to the floor. Craig blushed and hiked them back up with one hand. “Not sure I can cook with one hand though. Might prove to be a bit dangerous.”
Alan laughed and crossed the room. He opened a drawer and Craig laughed when he saw that it was crammed full of random junk. “I’m so glad you have one of those.”
Alan cast a glance over his shoulder. “One of what?”
“A junk drawer. Seriously. It makes me feel miles better about my life. You own a club and you have an amazing house and you’re so freaking hot. Your junk drawer makes you seem a little more human.”
Alan laughed and shut the drawer. “Come here.”
Craig crossed the room and nearly fainted when Alan dropped to his knees. Craig reached out and grabbed the counter to steady himself.
Alan’s face was only a few inches from his dick, which really, really, enjoyed the close proximity.
Alan looked up at him with his beautiful blue eyes and Craig barely resisted the urge to run his fingers through Alan’s dark hair. He didn’t look thirty-five. Maybe it was because the dark hair didn't have a hint of grey, or maybe it was his smooth, youthful expression. His tongue poked out and slid over his lower lip, then he spoke in a low, husky voice. “Stay still.”
Fingertips gently brushed against Craig’s exposed stomach and he resisted the urge to flinch away from the touch. He was super ticklish in some places and unfortunately for him, his stomach happened to be one of those places.
Then, Alan rose to his feet and carded his fingers through Craig’s hair. “There. All done.”
Craig looked down and saw that Alan had secured his pants with a safety pin. It wasn’t ideal, but at least they would stop falling.
“Be careful, okay. Don’t forget that’s in there. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Alan’s soft expression gave away the deeper truth of the sentiment, but Craig decided that conversations like that were best had after breakfast, and after you’d known the person longer than half a day.
“I promise to be careful.” Daddy. He bit his lip so the word wouldn’t slip past. But in that moment, with Alan so gently and carefully taking care of him without a second thought, Craig wished Alan could be that for him.
“Good.”
They fell into an easy rhythm. Craig cracked the eggs and whisked them together while Alan chopped some of the vegetables. He let Craig to do the cooking while he gathered a couple of plates from the cupboard. Craig found himself awe struck at how easy it was to be with Alan. They didn’t seem to have a problem being comfortable with each other whether they were talking or not talking. The silences were as stress-free as the conversation.
When they sat down to eat, Alan sat on the stool next to Craig at the counter. They talked a little while eating. Nothing earth shattering, they made general conversation. Every time Alan’s arm brushed against Craig’s, or every time their legs bumped against each other, an odd little thrill shot up Craig’s spine.
“Tell me about your uncle. What’s he like?” Alan pushed his empty plate off to the side and turned in his seat so he could lean against the counter and look at Craig.
Craig pushed the last few bits of his omelette around his plate. “He’s…my uncle.” He frowned. “I, uh,” Craig stopped to take a deep breath. “He wasn’t so good with the whole, raising a kid thing. He was a bachelor his whole life and he never had any interest in having a kid. It was a bit of an adjustment for him. He didn’t really know what to do with me, and I suppose I didn’t really know what to do with myself either.”
“So he put you to work in the hotel?”
“Yeah. He paid me well though, and he taught me to be smart with my money. When I first started, he’d bank seventy-five percent of my paycheck and the other twenty five percent was my spending money. He told me that because he has money, it doesn’t mean that I have money, and that if I wanted to be loaded like him, that I’d have to make my own fortune.”
“Sounds like a smart guy.”
Craig found himself smiling at that comment. Most people didn’t have a favorable reaction to that story. They felt that his uncle was mean and nasty and greedy, but Craig’s uncle wasn’t mean. He didn’t teach Craig how to manage money to be a jerk, he did it so Craig would be able to take care of himself. “Thanks. He is.”
Craig finished the last bite of his omelette. “I think you’d like him. He’s busy a lot of the time, but he pencils me in for dinner at the hotel whenever he can. Maybe you could come some time.” Craig hopped off the stool and quickly gathered the plates. He headed to the sink, kicking himself the whole way for being so forward and full of assumptions. He didn’t know if Alan wanted this to continue beyond today. For all he knew, this was a one-time thing.
“I’d like that.”
Craig grinned and rinsed the plates in the sink before stacking them nicely in the dishwasher. He tried not to read too much into Alan’s comment. He was only being nice. Oh, but it would be so easy for Craig to believe otherwise. He hoped Alan felt a fraction of the electricity between them that he did.
But Alan hadn’t even kissed him, and maybe it was because Alan didn’t kiss anyone. Craig had met guys like that before, guys who were all about the hook-ups, but that didn’t fit Alan. Alan didn’t seem like he was shirking away from intimacy. He’d spent the whole night petting and cuddling and touching Craig. So it had to be him. Alan simply didn’t want to kiss him.
Determined not to dwell on that sad fact, Craig gave Alan a bright smile. “So, what’s next on the agenda? The grand tour? I bet the rest of the place is as amazing as what I’ve seen so far. I bet you have a killer dungeon, right? Big bad Dom with the huge in-home dungeon for all his naughty little subs.”
Alan got a strange look on his face, but he said nothing. He held his hand out for Craig to take. “Come here. I’ll show you.”
Craig furrowed his brow and took Alan’s hand. Alan twined their fingers together and led him back toward the master bedroom. He opened the door to the room next to it and dropped Craig’s hand. “That’s the playroom. Check it out.”
Craig didn’t know what exactly he’d expected, but it sure wasn’t this. He walked into the room and looked around as he turned in a slow circle. His gaze sought out Alan’s. “It’s the guest bedroom I was in last night.”
Alan nodded. “Yes, not what you we
re expecting was it? It’s a very unassuming room. Mike and I seldom played at home and when we did we played in here. He said he couldn’t get in the right head space when we played in our bedroom.”
Craig frowned and crossed the room. He slid his arms around Alan’s waist and leaned into him. He knew Alan liked touching him and unless he was wrong, Alan seemed uneasy about this.
“When I was with Mike, we did most of our playing at the club. We used this room for playing at home which didn't happen often. Neither one of us saw a point in constructing a big in-home playroom if we owned a club. When my relationship with Mike deteriorated and came to an end, I hit a bit of a rough patch. I played with a few different subs, but I never brought them home from the club and I didn’t fuck them. I couldn’t because none of them were right and it took awhile, but I eventually realized they weren’t what I wanted anymore.” Alan took a deep breath and smoothed his hands down Craig’s back. “Mike was my sub and my business partner. We were together for quite a while and when it ended it took me a long time to realize my needs had changed. I didn’t need a hardcore sub to scene with anymore. I didn’t need the leather and the whips and the benches and the props and the toys. I didn’t need any of that. I have some stuff here, bondage stuff mainly, a few of my favorite floggers, that kind of thing. I know, it seems fucked up for a Dom who owns a kink club to only have a few basic toys at home.”
Craig tightened his arms around Alan. “It doesn’t seem strange at all. It’s not what you need, so why have a bunch of stuff here that you have no interest in using.” He guessed that must be the reason Tim found it so easy to get rid of him. He wasn’t what Tim needed anymore.
Craig flinched. He hated how thoughts of Tim had infiltrated his quiet moment with Alan. He was tired of thinking about Tim and obsessing over him. Tim had clearly moved on. If Craig wasn’t determined to do so yesterday, fantasies of him and Alan waking up bathed in sunshine together redoubled his determination today.
He buried his face against Alan’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He really wished he had the guts to kiss Alan, but if Alan really didn’t want to kiss him, he doubted that he could handle the rejection gracefully enough to not totally ruin everything.
Instead of entertaining further thoughts of kissing, Craig looked up at Alan. “What kind of movies do you like?” Alan grinned and Craig felt relief when the strange look left the other man's face. If he had to put a name on the facial expression, he’d call it, reluctant nostalgia of the melancholic variety, something he was all too familiar with.
They spent the rest of their day curled up together on Alan’s big sectional couch. Alan had a love for old action flicks and seemed horrified to find out Craig had never watched the Die Hard movies.
Craig would’ve been a liar if he said he was happy to get dressed and go home. He hated the thought of going home to his empty apartment and laying awake. Even as he pulled his pants up over his hips, he knew he was in for a long night of staring at the ceiling.
Alan didn’t seem very enthusiastic to get rid of him either. Or maybe Craig was projecting his own disappointment onto Alan, but either way, Alan drove him home and they didn’t talk much. That silence wasn’t one of their usual comfortable interludes. It felt loaded with uncertainty and things that both of them wanted to say, but neither of them could.
How did you tell someone that you’d only known for a single day, that they’d made your life infinitely better just by existing? How could you admit that you didn’t want to go home because you already couldn’t stand the thought of being away from them? Craig didn’t love Alan, he hadn’t known him long enough, but he wanted to love him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with a man as amazing as Alan.
Like the gentleman he’d been for most of their time together, Alan held his hand and walked him to his door.
Alan—typical tactile Alan—reached out and cupped Craig’s cheek and Craig let himself melt into the touch. “When can I see you again?”
“Whenever you want.” Craig smiled. “I’m off work by six each night.”
Alan smiled and leaned in a little closer. “Dinner tomorrow night?”
“I’d like that.” Craig couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
“Wonderful. I’ll pick you up here at eight, then.”
“Sounds great.”
Craig’s pulse sped up and his world tilted on its axis when Alan leaned in and kissed him. It started out slow and sweet. His lips brushed against Craig’s all smooth and soft before Alan melted into Craig. He pulled him close and sighed and parted Craig’s lips with his tongue. Craig turned to boneless mush in Alan’s arms. He wrapped his arms around Alan’s neck and held on tight as Alan kissed him.
By the time he pulled away, Alan was breathless and panting. Craig could feel his rock-solid erection press against him and he wanted nothing more than to tug Alan into his apartment and take care of it, but he settled for another toe curling kiss instead. Alan explored every bit of Craig’s mouth with his tongue. When they parted Alan rested his forehead against Craig’s with a sigh.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”
“It was worth waiting for.”
Chapter Six
Alan
Alan thought of driving home, but he found himself near the club and walking into The Dragon’s Den instead. He needed someone to talk to about the last twenty-four hours and he thought Steve the perfect person. He’d known Alan the longest and he knew what he’d been through with Mike, and what he went through when Mike left him.
Alan had barely sat down when Steve took the seat across from him.
Steve put his arms on the table and leaned in. “Who was that sweet little hottie you had here last night?”
Alan laughed in spite of hating the fact that Steve noticed Craig. Craig was absolutely off limits. Besides, he was all wrong for Steve who liked things rough and dirty. Craig's soft sweetness would not match well with Steve. “His name is Craig.”
Steve whistled. “Craig is cute. What’s he doing with an old fart like you?”
“Hey. Who are you calling old? You’re two and a half months older than me.”
“Is he even legal?” Steve asked with a grin as he waved one of his waiters over.
“He’s twenty-three.”
“Ah, so he’s barely legal.” Steve winked and turned to his waiter, a strapping young man who had yet to win Steve over with his charms. Steve didn’t care if his staff fucked each other, but he knew that fucking his staff was a bad idea. Alan had to hand it to the kid though, he’d been there for two years and was still trying to win his friend over.
Steve looked at him as the waiter swept away to get the bottle of wine Steve ordered for them. Finished with ribbing his friend, Steve turned serious. “I take it you met him at the club.”
“I spotted him the minute he walked in.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. He’s exactly your type.”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “My type?”
Steve grinned. “Please, Alan, I watched the two of you together. The kid seems quite sweet and vulnerable. Admit it, him and his big brown puppy dog eyes trip all your triggers.”
“If I admit that I like him, will that make you stop saying stupid shit?”
Steve leaned back, and he looked at Alan. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him. The waiter chose that moment to appear with a soda for Alan and the wine Steve ordered. He poured Steve a glass while Steve burned holes into Alan’s brain with a knowing look.
When the waiter left Alan reached for his drink. “How much do you like this kid?”
Alan wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first, so he took a big swallow of his soda. “I like him enough to ask you if I like him too much.” His cheeks burned as he half spoke half whispered his admission.
“Shit, you really do like him.”
“Is that fucked up? I met him last night and while I won’t go into detail, we h
ad an amazing time together.”
“Jesus fuck. I know that look. You want to offer him a contract, don’t you?” When Alan didn’t immediately respond Steve’s eyes widened.
Alan dropped his gaze. If he refused to answer, it was still and admission that yes, he’d thought about offering a contract to the sweet little sub, but he couldn’t bring himself to confirm or deny. Which was exactly the reason he sat there. He needed to know if he was losing his mind.
Steve grabbed his glass of wine and drained half. “For the record, I think you’re absolutely insane, but you always did go about things in your own weird way. You never really were one to follow the pack. So, what is it about this kid that has you all twisted up in knots?”
Alan took a deep breath, another drink and tried to gather his thoughts in a way that would make sense to, well, anyone, because he couldn’t make sense of it himself.
“Okay, tell me how the two of you met. I know you met in the club. Elaborate.”
“I saw him when he walked in.” Alan laughed a little. “I noticed him because he was the only other fully dressed person in the place. I watched him for a bit. He went to the bar. He looked nervous and more than a little uncomfortable. It looked like he was going to jump into the scene, then Tim targeted him.”
Steve’s eyebrows rose so high they would’ve touched his hairline had he not been completely bald. “Tim? Paul’s boy?”
“Yeah. Craig went ten shades whiter when Tim approached him. I didn’t really know what was going on, but the next thing I know, Paul put one of his big bear paws on Craig’s shoulder to stop him from walking away and Craig swatted it off.”
“Holy shit. Kid’s got balls.”
“I got there just as Paul grabbed him by the arm.”
“Shit. What’d you do? Please tell me you punched him.”
“No. But one wrong move and his membership is toast. I don’t give a shit if I have to invent a reason, I’ll cut him loose.” Alan told him the rest of the story, about how he’d ordered Craig down to his knees and then dealt with Paul and Tim. He told him about taking Craig into his office and all the other things they did that night. If Steve was going to help him get his head on straight, he had to have all the details.
What He Needs Page 4
