Drawing Closer (11 page)

a First and it all fell into place after that."

"Uh, good?" Gray sprawled out beside him, giving Charles' arm a tentative kiss. "That's it, then?

Because I'm still not getting why that's stopping you and me from being together."

Charles slid down the bed and reached for him. He was shaking and Gray found himself

murmuring something comforting and meaningless under his breath as he hugged Charles close.

"Not it," Charles whispered against Gray's shoulder. "Years later we met up again. In a club. A private club. He looked -- God, he was a mess. I barely recognized him. He came over with this

pretty little boy in tow, collared and cuffed, and asked me what I thought of him."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Seriously? Because that's..." Gray tried to decide what it was and gave up. His head and his dick seemed to have conflicting opinions.

"Mm. Isn't it?" Charles said dryly. "I told him the truth without bothering to make it flattering, and he lost his temper and sent the boy over to be whipped, telling me it was my fault."

"Okay, stop. Just--" Gray gulped down a quick breath and tried to steady his voice. "Charles, what were you doing at a place like that?"
Were
there places like that? For real?

"Having a drink. Enjoying the floorshow. Looking for someone to get off with. What do you

think I was doing?"

"I don't --Charles..." He was losing it here, assailed by images of Charles watching, eyes bright and cool, as someone was stripped and bent -- tied up? -- God --

"Breathe," Charles advised him. "You look as if you're about to pass out."

Gray struggled to sit up and gave Charles an indignant look. "No, I don't! I'm just -- I'm dealing,
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okay. I'm fine. What -- what happened next?"

The more agitated he got -- and he was, he admitted it -- the calmer Charles seemed to get. He

folded his arms behind his head and carried on. "I'd changed rather a lot since leaving him. I was a professor, not a student, an adult, not a teenager -- He'd expected me to protest and I pointed at a

man already in position and being attended to rather nicely by -- oh, Saul, I think it was -- and

told him that he was mine."

"Was he?"

"Yes." Charles smiled reminiscently. "I'd had him before. Cheeky little sod, he was, but that's not always a bad thing if a sub knows the lines that can't be crossed, and he did. I liked him." His

smile faded. "Alan reacted badly. Made quite a scene and stormed out with the boy. The next

morning the papers were full of it. He'd... hurt him. Badly. The boy--"

"What was his name?" Gray felt anger build. "You keep calling him the fucking boy; what was his name?"

"Steven, I think." Charles closed his eyes. "He didn't die, but he turned out to be seventeen. Alan was charged, went to prison, and died there soon after. I'm not sure of the circumstances; his

family closed ranks and it didn't get much coverage. I don't think he was killed or anything of that

nature; he was just... broken and gave up."

"Christ."

"Yes, it wasn't very pleasant." Charles' voice, cool and detached, wavered. "It's why I came over here. I was somewhat involved; the prosecution dug up his relationship with me and the gutter

press had fun making me out to be a lot younger than I was. They found some photographs of a

private party -- God, my parents -- their faces--" He shook his head. "I left it all behind. Ran away. Started over. Played it safe and normal. Mostly. And then you came along and I find I've

more in common with Alan than our taste for games, because you're as tempting as I must have

been, and I really don't like the idea of following in his footsteps very much."

"I'm not you. And I'm not like that Steven guy," Gray told him. "I -- fuck, Charles, this is a lot to take in, you know?"

"I do, yes. Don't bother trying." Charles got out of bed and gathered up Gray's clothing, tossing it over to him. "Get dressed, get out, and next time make a fool of yourself over someone your own

age."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, yes, you are." Charles looked dangerously close to losing it. "I get off on hurting men like you, Gray. Men who want it, men who know what the rules are, and how to play. You don't

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know a damn thing about it or me, and you're not going to find out."

"What if I want to?"

"It won't be from me."

"Then don't do that kinky stuff. Just fuck me."

"It won't be enough. It's good, but it's not enough." Charles stared at him, his gaze traveling over Gray's body. "God, you've no idea what I want to do to you."

"Tell me."

"No."

"One thing. Tell me." Gray wasn't letting him go. He needed time alone to think this through but that could come later. Right now he had to keep the connection between them unbroken. Nothing

Charles had said had made him change his mind about wanting him.

He rolled to his back and spread his legs wide, loving the way Charles' breath stuttered just a

little. "See? Hard. All the time you were talking I've been like this.
What are you going to do to
me?
"

"Nothing."

"Oh, yes, you are," Gray told him. He brought his hand down to his cock, pumping it slowly,

never taking his eyes off Charles. "You're just going to let me do this? I don't think so. Tell me to stop." He bit his lip and then went on, keeping his voice steady. "Or let me come and then

punish me for it. Don't care. Just -- let me stay. Please?"

"God." The single word was said so quietly it was barely audible. Gray felt a pang of remorse at the conflicted, tortured look on Charles' face but he didn't stop the slow drag of his hand along his

cock.

"Going to come. In your bed. On your sheets. Going to get them messy." Taunting Charles was

probably the scariest thing he'd ever done and he was loving it. Gray felt his lips curl in a tight

grin of adrenaline-fuelled arousal and he flicked out his tongue teasingly, knowing he looked like a

slut and not caring. He drew his knees up and let them fall apart, reaching down with his free

hand. "Want to see me ride my fingers? Or are you going to come here and do that for me?"

Charles moved faster than he'd expected, strong hands tearing Gray's clenching, clutching fingers

away from his body, pinning his wrists to the bed as Charles straddled him, all hot skin and

angry, haunted eyes.

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Gray lay still, looking up at him. "Want you."

"You do, don't you."

Charles sat back, releasing him, and Gray moaned in disappointment. "Charles -- God."

A finger tapped against his mouth. "Lesson one. You don't argue."

"Lesson?" Hope flared. "You mean you're going to..." Gray waved his hand vaguely and Charles rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you're so very ready for this, aren't you?" he mocked. "Christ, Gray, you're out of your depth. Admit it."

"More than you were?"

"Yes." Charles nodded, moving off Gray and walking over to a bureau. "Far more. By the time I'd got to the stage you're at, I'd been with Alan for six months and I was ready for it." He opened a

drawer and took out two silk ties, drawing them through his fingers and studying them with an

abstracted frown.

"Are you going to tie me up?" Gray hoped that Charles hadn't heard the quaver in his voice

because the chances were good that he'd interpret it as nerves when the truth of the matter was

that Gray was so close to coming that the touch of the cool, slithery silk would probably be all it

took.

"Would you like that?"

Cool, dry voice. Classroom voice.
Fuck.

"Think so," Gray managed to say, completely incapable of looking away from the dark blue and

green lengths twined around Charles' fingers.

"You trust me?"

He gave that some thought but there was only one answer. "Yes."

Charles sighed. "I wish you'd said 'no'. It would have made it so much easier."

Gray dug around in his memory of porn movies. "I get a -- a safe word. Don't I?"

"I'm astonished that you know even that much. Yes. What will it be?" His voice was light,

verging on bored, but Gray could see the tautness across Charles' shoulders. He was wound tight.

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"Uh... roses?"

That got a chuckle. "Clever. Very well."

Gray held still, waiting, forcing himself to breath in a regular, slow rhythm as Charles casually

tethered his wrists to the bed frame. He could feel the rub of the silk and the press of the knot

but neither was uncomfortable, although he could tell that his arms would be aching before long.

It didn't escape him that the bed frame seemed almost designed for this, with convenient curlicues

of metal that offered plenty of anchor points.

"There," Charles said softly. "You're tied and hard and wanting. That's something I wanted to do to you."

"You're not going to stop there, are you?"

Charles shook his head. "Unless you tell me to," he added. "But while I have you at my mercy, we're going to get a few things clear."

"Go on."

"This is to satisfy your curiosity." Charles patted Gray's erection. "And take care of this, as you seem to think I caused it."

"You did."

"Be quiet, or I'll get a third tie and gag you."

Gray's whole body heated and he whimpered and squirmed, a tiny sound, a small movement,

both beyond his control. "Oh, fuck, Charles, don't say stuff like that!"

Charles' eyes widened in what looked like surprise, but his voice was cold. "You don't come

without permission when you're like this, Gray. Is that understood?"

"Really not helping ..."

"Really don't care. Control yourself."

Gray clenched his fists and felt the sharp tug of the silk bite deep. It hurt just enough to clear his

head but the promise inherent in feeling how effectively he was held tipped the balance back and

he moaned again, louder this time.

"Do you have anything you want to ask me?"

Gray gathered his thoughts. "Something confusing me."

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"Go on."

"This Alan -- he was into being in charge?"

"Mm."

"Like you are?"

Charles nodded.

"So how come... I mean, how did that work? Both of you...?"

"What? Oh!" Charles shook his head. "It wasn't like that. We didn't -- oh, this is going to take too long... Short version: part of the reason it didn't work out was that my willingness to let him

dictate what I wore, ordered from a menu, or liked in art, was more down to insecurity than a

natural inclination to play the submissive. The games we played appealed to me strongly enough

that it took me some months to work out why I wasn't quite satisfied even so, and when I did...

well, it didn't go down too well."

"So he worked out a way to get rid of you."

"He worked out a way to bring me to heel," Charles corrected. "It just didn't play out as he'd expected."

"I bet." Gray mulled it over for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Okay. Guess I'm done asking questions."

An eyebrow rose. "That easy to satisfy your curiosity? Why do I have trouble believing that?"

Gray gave him a sheepish smile. "Okay, I'm done for now. That better?"

"Considerably more accurate. However, I haven't even started."

"Charles... want to fuck," Gray complained.

"I can see that." Charles' hand closed around Gray's straining cock, a warm, fleeting clasp, gone too quickly to be anything more than a tease. "You do realize that if this was real--"

"It isn't?"

Charles shook his head. "No. Sorry. You're just not ready and I don't think you want it. Not

really."

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"Then why the fuck am I tied up and hard?"

"Because it seemed like the best way to show you why this isn't going to happen. Isn't going to

work. You're so stubborn that talking just wasn't going to be enough. Consider it a practical

demonstration of what I need. I promise I won't hurt you, but I think when we're through you'll

know it's not for you."

"Hard," Gray reminded him.

Charles didn't even look. "I think that's down to other reasons."

"You're pissing me off, Charles." Gray kicked out angrily with his foot, frustration boiling up.

"What makes you think you know what's going on in my head?"

"You don't just realize that something like this works for you, Gray. You want it to because you

want me -- God knows why -- but that's not enough."

"You are one hell of a patronizing bastard, you know that?" Gray licked along his lips and stared down at his body. He knew how it looked normally when he was lying down; he'd done enough

self-portraits to be aware of the changes in musculature due to the position he was in. Muscles

and skin were pulled tight and taut, waiting to be touched. He could feel the shift and stir of air

along the exposed skin of his inner arms; turn his head and breathe in the scent of his aroused, hot

body, concentrated and intensified in the deep, open cup of his armpit.

"Do it, Charles. Bring it on. Do whatever the hell you usually do and I'll tell you if I can take it or if it's not my thing.
I
will. You don't get to tell me."

"With an attitude like that--"

"Hey, it's me. You know it is." Gray glared at him. "And you know you get off on me being argumentative, stubborn and pushy." He nodded, a realization clicking into place. "Yeah, of

course you do. Because it gives you something to work with. Something to beat out of me."

"And I would. Literally," Charles told him, a spark of challenge in his eyes.

Gray grinned. "You know you won't be able to, but we could have fun trying."