by K. C. Wells
The voice at the other end sounded just as weary. “We figured as much. My boss has me contacting clients to let them know of a shipping delay. We’re hoping they’ll all understand when I explain about Jerry. Tell Eli we hope he feels better.”
I thanked him and switched off the phone. It was still dark outside. I climbed the stairs and undressed quietly before getting into bed with Eli. I curled up around him, sliding my arm across his chest. The feel of his heart beating beneath my hand was a comfort. He stirred and pressed back into my arms with a sigh.
I’ve got you, Sir.
Yes, the roles were reversed, but right then I didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was that I was there to care for Eli.
Eli needed me.
Chapter Eighteen
Jarod
“THIS PLACE is amazing!” Scott’s exclamation was echoed by the others. They’d made enough noises when they’d climbed out of Pietro’s car and stared at the front of the house. The noise only got louder when they entered the hallway.
I couldn’t believe we’d finally agreed on a date. It had taken a few weeks to make sure everyone was able to come, but we’d done it. Getting Alex and Pietro to have a day off at the same time had been the tricky part, but they’d managed it somehow. Scott was missing two lectures, but a friend on his course had promised to take notes. Dorian was okay; his new course didn’t start until September. Gareth had the day off, and as for Peter, Thomas had apparently been delighted when he’d heard about our plans. I hadn’t known about Peter’s agoraphobia, so I guessed this was a big deal.
Of course, once they got inside, everyone had wanted a tour, so I’d shown them around the house. There may have been five bedrooms, but it soon became clear that they all wanted to spend the night in the same room, so mattresses were moved immediately. What touched me was that they wanted me with them. I had to admit, I liked the idea of the seven of us sleeping in one room, although I had a feeling not much sleeping would be taking place. I could imagine, however, a lot of talking until the wee hours.
It only took five minutes to decide on a rehearsal room. The media room at the back of the house was plenty big enough for them, and it had the added bonus of wall speakers.
“So, what’s the plan, Jarod?” Scott asked, and six pairs of eyes suddenly focused on me. It was then that I realized I was the one in charge. I could live with that.
“Well,” I began, “we can let Gareth show us these moves he’s cooked up, and then spend a while getting them right. Then dinner. It’s going to be a warm evening, so I thought we could eat burgers and salad outside. There’s a fire pit that we can sit around when it gets chilly. We can do a bit more rehearsing before bed, if we need it.”
“We?” Alex was grinning at me. “You gonna join us?”
Hell. “Er, no.” There was no way I was about to embarrass myself, dancing with a group of twentysomethings. That would just look strange.
My words were greeted with a chorus of disappointed “Aw,” but I shook my head. I wasn’t going to be moved on that point. Most of them were half my age.
“I don’t mind hosting this… shindig, but that’s where I draw the line.” More disappointed groans resulted, but I dialed them out.
“That’s fine.” Peter gazed around at his friends. “And if Jarod doesn’t want to take part, we’re not going to make him feel uncomfortable for making that decision, are we?” He emphasized the last two words and flashed them a keen stare. One by one the young men nodded. I gave Peter a grateful smile.
“I suppose you want to hear which song I’ve chosen,” Gareth said with a grin. He walked over to the iPod docking station, and after scrolling through, he connected up his phone. “Here we go.” That grin widened.
The room was suddenly alive with the sound of Rihanna’s “S&M.”
It only took a second for the men to react.
“Oh, that’s perfect!” Scott cried out, clapping his hands together. Alex and Peter burst out laughing, Dorian and Pietro not far behind them. I had to smile. The choice was inspired. We sang along, everyone moving to the music. It was infectious.
When it came to an end, Gareth beamed at us. “I take it you’re happy with that?” Our nods reassured him. “Oh, great.” He rubbed his hands together. “Well? Let’s get started. We can work here, if we move the couch out of the way to give us more space.”
He got up and the others lifted the couch closer to the window. Gareth stood in the middle of the floor, smiling. “I’ll show you what I’ve worked out, and we can take it from there. Jarod, can you be in charge of the music?”
I nodded and moved over to the music system. The others sat on the floor, giving him room. His brightly colored, loose-fitting clothes would give him ease of movement, and I envied him his youth. I was certain those colors would never work for me. “Ready?”
Gareth gave me a thumbs-up, and I turned up the music, which boomed through the media room. He smiled and then broke into a frenzy of movement and color. All of us watched him with our mouths hanging open.
When he finished, he didn’t even seem remotely out of breath. “So, what did you think?”
There was a stunned silence. Peter glanced at all of us and then stared at Gareth. “You’re kidding, right?”
Gareth frowned. “No, why?”
“We have a couple of weeks until Sir’s birthday. I don’t know about the rest of you, but there’s no way I can learn those moves by then, not unless we’re going to camp out here every night. And somehow I think our masters might get a little suspicious.”
Everyone mumbled their agreement, and Gareth smiled. “No problem, lads. The dance is supposed to be about sensuality, not anything else, so what if I show you something we could probably learn in an afternoon? Something that will get our Sirs all hot and bothered, and guarantee us a good night afterward.” He waggled his brows, and we couldn’t help but laugh. Gareth lifted a straight-backed chair from next to the table and placed it in the middle of the floor. He looked at me. “Jarod, I need your help for this. You need to pretend to be one of our masters and sit in this chair.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
“You,” Gareth said, grabbing my hand.
The boys hooted as I took the chair Gareth selected. “Okay, boys, we’re going to do this without the music first, so you can learn the basic steps. They’re very simple.”
For the next hour, Gareth did some gyrations that would probably be illegal in any other place in England. They were sensual, erotic, and showed off his lithe body beautifully. His fellow subs watched him intently, taking in every movement, and then they were on their feet, copying him. Gareth was right: the steps were simple enough that even I could do them. Not that I was going to, of course. Watching him, I got the impression Gareth was very good at his job. It was easy to imagine him performing this for a customer, just the two of them, the music pulsing through them.
Everything changed for me when he came over and straddled my lap, and began grinding against me. He stared into my eyes, and I felt the intense urge to push him off me, run, and hide.
He stopped and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “You’re fine, Jarod. I can tell how tense you are, but you’re among friends.”
I breathed deeply, letting his words register. It had felt uncomfortable, but the feeling had passed.
He knelt in front of me, his hand resting on my knee. “We’d love to have you practice with us. Even if you won’t get up there on stage with us, here we’d love you to be a part of what we’re doing. Please?”
There was affection in his voice. I imagined it was how he sounded when he talked to his master, because there was such tenderness and caring in it.
“Yeah, go on, Jarod,” Scott called out, his face earnest. The others were nodding.
It only took one look at their expressions to make up my mind. “Sure.” How could I let them down?
“YOU HAVING a good time, pet?”
I smiled. I’d known Eli would call at some point,
and luckily it had coincided with a break. We were sitting on the floor, drinking water and juice, and chatting.
“Yes, Sir. We’ve been watching a film and eating popcorn,” I lied.
“Hi, Master Eli!” the others yelled in unison. I gave them a mock scowl, and they collapsed into fits of giggles. The atmosphere had been like that for the past two hours, and I’d loved it so far.
Eli’s chuckle tickled my ear. “Sounds like you’re having a great time. I’ll let you get on with it.”
“Thanks, Sir. I’ll call you before I go to sleep.”
Eli laughed. “You think you’re going to get any sleep tonight? I fully expect to see bags under your eyes when you get home tomorrow. Six young men in their twenties? Rather you than me, pet.” We said our good-byes, and I hung up.
Gareth jumped to his feet. “Okay. We’ve got the dance moves sorted. Now we have to practice taking our clothes off to the music.”
I was suddenly aware of how still Peter had become. His face was pale, his gaze focused on Gareth.
“Are you okay?” I moved to his side, concerned.
He glanced at me, but it was as if he was looking right through me.
Alex was at his other side in an instant, Scott not far behind. “You knew this was coming, right?” Alex’s voice was gentle. “I thought this was what you wanted, to step out of your comfort zone, show Thomas how far you’ve come?”
“Yeah.” I was disconcerted to see tremors ripple along the length of Peter’s slim body.
“Maybe you were okay with me and Alex knowing about your scars,” Scott suggested, his voice equally as gentle, “but now you’re thinking it’s a different matter if everyone gets to see them.”
Peter took a deep breath before turning to face Scott. “Yes,” he sighed.
My head was in a spin. Scars?
“I guess if I’m going to do this in front of everyone at the club, then this is the first step.” Peter grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He turned around slowly and a chorus of gasps and exclamations of horror rippled around the room. His back was a mass of scars, crisscrossing over his shoulder blades and reaching as low as his buttocks. Peter’s head was bowed, his breathing even. After a minute he pulled the T-shirt back on and sat on the floor, facing us, his face calm.
“You did it,” Alex said softly. He crawled over to where his friend sat and put his arms around him. Peter closed his eyes, his cheek pressed against Alex’s. A profound silence had fallen over the little group. When Alex released Peter and sat at his side, Scott shuffled over to sit with them.
Peter lifted his chin and met our stunned gazes. Quietly and in a measured voice, he told us how he came to be scarred, and how Thomas had changed his life. Hot tears pricked my eyes, and I wiped them away. One by one Pietro, Dorian, and Gareth got up and moved to where the three subs sat. I watched the group hug, unwilling to disturb their moment. After a few minutes, they broke up and shifted apart. Peter’s face glowed, his eyes bright.
“Thanks, guys.” He gave us a beautiful smile. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to share that with you, but it just never seemed to be the right moment. Alex is right, of course. It’s time to step out of my comfort zone.”
Alex’s eyes were just as bright. He hugged Peter tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”
Dorian cleared his throat. “Can… can I share something with you all?” Pietro and Alex jerked their heads up, eyes wide. Dorian nodded to them, before glancing around at us. “I know I’ve only been back at the club for a few weeks, but I haven’t really talked about what happened to me while I was… away. Pietro and Alex know, and they’ve been great, but seeing as I’m about to be collared soon—”
Whatever else he’d been about to say was lost in a wave of whoops and cheers when Dorian was suddenly submerged in a forest of arms as the subs gathered him up, hugging him.
“You kept that quiet!”
“I knew something was up, but collared? That’s great!”
“Master Alan, right?”
Dorian seemed stunned by it all. When at last the hugfest broke up, he stared at his friends openmouthed.
Alex nudged him with his shoulder. “You don’t get it, do you? Since you came back, it’s like you’re a completely new Dorian. That scene you did with Master Alan? It was amazing.” He smiled. “I really like the new Dorian, by the way. We all do.”
Dorian’s cheeks pinked.
Pietro shuffled across on his bottom to sit beside Dorian. “You can tell them. You’re among friends here.” He faced the others. “You’ve seen his back, right? His brand?” There were nods all round. “Well, you need to know how he got it.”
“If only as a warning not to be as bloody stupid as I was.” Dorian’s voice was subdued.
I listened as he told us about a visit to Berlin, and its horrific consequences. My own experience of losing Phillip seemed to pale in comparison. These two young men had already been through so much. Then I thought about it. We had all come through experiences that had changed us in some way.
We were all the stronger for them.
THE REHEARSING done, we were famished. Gareth was pleased with the end result, and kept telling Peter that Thomas was going to be bowled over by it. Peter had warmed up as the rehearsal had progressed, clearly determined to make his Dom proud.
I got the grill going, and soon the delicious aroma of burgers filtered through the evening air. The kitchen was a hive of activity: Alex prepared the salads, Dorian was in charge of burger buns, and I was dying to know what Pietro was mixing in the large glass jug. It was an interesting concoction, dark with sliced fruit floating in it.
Gareth took over at the grill while I built up the fire, and it wasn’t long before we were all sitting huddled around the fire pit, eating, laughing, and chatting. Pietro filled our glasses with what turned out to be his version of sangria. It was heavenly, a mixture of red wine and lemonade, and just what we needed after our efforts. Having said that, it was more lemonade than red wine, which I was sure would have pleased their Doms. The flames grew higher, and shirts ended up in a heap, bare skin glowing in the firelight.
I walked from the kitchen with a couple of bags of snacks, and was greeted with cries of enthusiasm. I handed them over to Gareth, who gave me a broad smile. “Thanks for joining in with us.”
“After you did your bump and grind in my lap, it seemed churlish not to dance with you,” I said with a grin. The others laughed. It had felt odd to sit on the sidelines, and no one had batted an eyelid when I’d gotten up and begun copying Gareth’s sultry moves.
Not that I’d be dancing when they performed for Thomas. No way.
I sat down on a chair beside the fire, wincing when my body reinforced that decision. “I’m getting too old for this,” I muttered. I didn’t regret practicing with them, but how I’d feel the following morning remained to be seen.
Silence fell around the fire pit, and I glanced up. Pietro was the first to speak. “How old are you? If that’s not a rude question,” he added hastily.
I smiled. “I’m fifty, and it’s okay to ask. To be honest, I expected questions before now, and I was surprised when there were none.”
The submissives gazed at each other. “We were all told it would be disrespectful to mention it,” Peter said finally, his voice low.
“Who told you that?”
“Uh, that would be me.” Scott held up his hand. Even in the firelight, I could see his cheeks were red. “And I only said it ’cause Ben reminded me that I needed to behave around you.”
“I see.” I let out a sigh. “There was a reason Ben said that.” Quickly I told them about Spitfire, and the attitude of the subs and Doms there.
“What the fuck?” Scott stared at me openmouthed. “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“But we really don’t see what age has to do with submission,” Alex said earnestly.
“Yeah, we don’t have a problem wit
h you being older. It’s kinda nice.” This was from Pietro. The others murmured in agreement.
Warmth flooded through me at their simple but genuine acceptance. “Thanks, guys.”
“Thank you for putting up with us for this.” Alex grinned. “Although it has been a lot of fun.”
I couldn’t agree more. I sat there as the sky darkened, listening to their conversations, punctuated by crunching sounds and the crackle of flames.
Peter sat beside me, studying the fire and slowly drinking a glass of lemonade. I glanced at his back, hidden in the shadows. He caught me looking.
“May I?” I gestured to his back. After a moment he nodded. I ran my hand gently over the puckered skin, my fingers tracing each jagged scar.
He sat still, his breathing regular. “Ugly, aren’t they?” The words crept out, a whisper on the night air.
I withdrew my hand and straightened. “That wasn’t what I was thinking at all. I can’t imagine the pain you suffered, but each scar tells a story of survival. Of the inner strength you possess. If I’m honest, I don’t think I’d have survived this.”
“Of course you would!” Peter stressed.
I smiled at him. “I’m glad you think so. I’m not so sure.” I cupped his cheek, turning his face toward mine. “You’re a remarkable young man, and you and Master Thomas are lucky to have found one another.”
He smiled and pressed his hand against mine. “Thank you.” I released him and we sat in silence, the chatter and laughter of the others a comforting backdrop. Maybe ten minutes passed before either of us spoke.
Peter leaned closer. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “It’s about your Master Phillip.”
I tilted my head. “Okay,” I said slowly.
He gazed out once more at the dancing flames. “Now and again, little things bring home to me the difference in our ages—mine and Thomas’s. Not all the time,” he added hastily. “But I’d be stupid not to realize that barring any unforeseen events, he’ll go before I do. I mean, come on, there’s thirty years between us.”
