Overview
A naked submissive and a rainbow coloured flag, what gay dominant could resist?
Crenshaw hasn't had much time to hit the leather clubs since he got really involved in the gay pride movement, but when he finds a drunken submissive standing on his doorstep wearing nothing more than a rainbow coloured flag, it's obviously time for him to get back into the game.
Jayden might not be really into the whole gay pride thing, but he's very proud of his plan to get Crenshaw's attention. All he has to do now, is convince the older man to keep him around once he's sobered up.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857151353 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 05/03/2010 |
| Series: | G-A-Y , #7 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 45 |
| File size: | 254 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
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CHAPTER 1
The young man was naked, bar the rainbow coloured flag. He'd wrapped the material around his shoulders and draped it over his body, but as the wind caught at the edge of the fabric it was impossible to miss just how bare he was behind the scant covering.
Mr. William Crenshaw looked his visitor up and down and quickly came to the conclusion that he'd never seen him before in his life. He'd have remembered a face like that. Bright blue eyes peeked out from behind a messy mop of blond hair as the breeze blew the several golden strands across the boy's face.
As he reached up to push his hair out of the way, the boy almost lost his grip on his flag. Crenshaw caught a glimpse of beautiful lines of slim muscle before the younger man pulled the fluttering fabric back into place. He'd have remembered a body like that too.
"Hi."
Crenshaw pulled his attention back up to the other man's eyes. "Hello." He waited for the other man to say something else, perhaps even to present some explanation of why he was standing on his doorstep. The guy offered him a hopeful little smile, but that seemed to be the only contribution he intended to make to the conversation.
Holding back a sigh, Crenshaw looked past the man who'd rung his door bell and glanced both ways along the quiet street. The car he expected to see parked a little way down the road wasn't there. At least, there was an unfamiliar car, but it didn't contain any of the men he'd assumed that it would.
On the positive side, the vehicle didn't contain any paparazzi either. That was something to be grateful for, at least.
Crenshaw's visitor turned and followed his gaze. "Were you expecting someone else, sir?" He sounded quite worried about the possibility.
"No, I wasn't expecting anyone." He'd actually been quite content with the prospect of some peace and solitude after a day filled with meetings crammed full of men who thought their point would carry more weight if it was shouted very loudly.
A relieved light filled the younger man's eyes. He smiled as he shrugged his shoulders in an effort to stop the flag from slipping away again. Crenshaw took a deep breath and resisted the temptation to let it out as a sigh. When the man facing him looked so young and clueless, it was hard not to feel old. The flag bearer couldn't have been far into his twenties. His nervousness made him appear even younger.
"Exactly which of the leather clubs are you attempting to join?" Crenshaw asked with as much patience as he could muster. He hadn't heard anything about any new subs being hazed in anywhere that weekend. Although, it had been so long since he'd found time to hit the clubs and play, it was hardly surprising that he'd lost track of what had been pencilled into the local kinky calendar.
The relief drained out of the younger man's eyes to be replaced with confusion. "Sir?"
The honorific implied that he had some tiny clue about the world he was trying to work his way into but, if Crenshaw was any judge, that was the full extent of his knowledge. Whatever idiot thought the boy was ready to try and become a formal member of any club deserved to be soundly whipped — unless they were a masochist, of course, in which case they deserved to be soundly barred from the pleasure of a whipping for the foreseeable future.
The boy rocked back onto his heels. He righted himself just a moment before Crenshaw reached out to keep him on his feet. "You're drunk."
The younger man gave the matter considerable analysis. "Yes, sir."
Crenshaw ground his teeth. "Who sent you here?" If nothing else, he would have to find out which club the sender belonged to — if only so he could make his opinions on getting young men drunk and sending them off to submit to strangers very clear.
If this was any indication of the way standards had slipped while he'd been focusing on other things, there was no doubt that he'd have to find the time to visit the clubs more often.
Being discreet about his taste in leather was one thing, but he was damned if he was going to let a certain type of reporter keep him out of the clubs forever — especially not when the local scene seemed to be going to the dogs in his absence.
The boy tilted his head on the side. "Ted told me where you lived, sir," he offered.
"That was kind of him," Crenshaw observed, trying to place a Ted in his list of acquaintances on the scene. Ted ... Theodore ... Theo ... No one stood out.
"Why would I want to join one of the clubs?"
Crenshaw raised an eyebrow at both the question and the careless interruption of his thoughts. The younger man merely stared back at him as if it was a genuine query and he was quite looking forward to discovering the answer.
"You hardly ever go to them anymore, sir," the boy added. "So, joining them wouldn't have worked, would it?"
Crenshaw folded his arms across his chest and stared down at him. He'd never had a lot of patience with men who didn't make sense, that night he had even less than usual. "Why are you here?"
"Mike said that if I really wanted to get your attention, I should stop buggering about and do something. So ..."
"So you delivered yourself to my doorstep wearing a rainbow coloured flag?" Crenshaw tried to follow the logic. He was pretty sure there wasn't any, but the boy nodded as if it made perfect sense. If Crenshaw hadn't been pretty bloody certain the boy wasn't just tipsy but drunk out of his mind before, that settled it. There was no way any even vaguely sober man could come up with a plan like that, let alone go through with it.
"Everyone knows you're really into the whole pride thing. Paul thought a leather pride flag would have been better, but we didn't have one of those." For a moment he looked very worried. He stared down at the length of thin material wrapped around his body as if it had morphed into some hideous fashion faux pas around him.
"The rainbow is fine," Crenshaw said.
His visitor smiled up at him as if he'd offered him the world on a stick. "I don't mind about the other flag, sir."
Crenshaw raised an eyebrow in query.
"If you're kinky — I don't mind, really. I'm sure I'll like it too once we get going. I mean ..." he frowned for a moment.
It was stupid to quite like the idea that someone so obviously clueless had some sort of a crush on him. It was also stupid to find himself quite liking the boy standing before him in spite of the foolishness of this stunt, but there was something strangely appealing about him and —
"Did it work, sir?"
It took a moment for Crenshaw to fathom what the younger man was asking. He couldn't quite stop his lips twitching into a smile. "Yes, I think it's safe to say that you've got my attention. Name?"
"Jayden Granger, sir."
Crenshaw nodded his praise of the silence that came after the simple answer, but it didn't last long.
"It's quite cold out here, sir."
"You should have thought about that before you discarded your clothes. Where are they?"
The boy shrugged and almost lost his grip on his flag.
Crenshaw held back a sigh. It wasn't as if he could leave the boy standing on his doorstep all night, and he certainly couldn't send him off into the world with nothing but the flag for protection. He stepped back out of the doorway. "In."
The younger man walked into his house. He turned around several times, studying his surroundings very carefully.
"I don't keep the rack or the whipping post in the hallway. They're down in the dungeon with the rest of the toys," Crenshaw told him.
Jayden nodded as if that made perfect sense. "Could we go down there, sir? I've never seen a real dungeon before."
Crenshaw just stared at him for a few seconds. He appeared to have roughly the same survival instinct as a curious, and rather dopey, kitten.
"I don't play with men who are too drunk to know what they're doing."
"Oh ..." The boy looked quietly heartbroken over the fact.
"Or with men who are too inexperienced to know what they are doing, even after they've sobered up," Crenshaw added.
Jayden opened his mouth, he closed his mouth. "That's not fair — everyone was clueless once." Jayden frowned for a moment as he analysed that statement. He seemed to see something lacking in it, but couldn't work out what.
Crenshaw shook his head and nudged his drunken, new friend into the living room. The boy went willingly enough, although it was hard to tell right then if that was because there was a touch of submission in him, or because he simply had an easy going nature while inebriated.
Still, there was something in him that hinted that he might be an interesting acquaintance if he was still so determined to explore his submission when he wasn't so completely sloshed. Crenshaw glanced into the kitchen as he followed his new friend into the living room.
He was vaguely aware that he should probably make some effort to sober the boy up, so he could send him on his way as quickly as possible. With another man, he wouldn't have hesitated, but he had the horrible suspicion that a shot of caffeine might only succeed in making Jayden both hyper and drunk at the same time. Letting him sleep it off would probably be a safer bet, and it had the added benefit of letting him see what the boy would be like while sober in the morning.
Jayden stood in the middle of the room, looking around with a sort of innocent interest in everything that surrounded him.
"You have a very nice home, sir."
He might not have had much to do with doms, but someone had obviously trained some good manners into him at some point. Crenshaw smiled slightly as he pointed him towards the sofa.
Jayden considered the piece of upholstery as if it might do something vicious at any moment. "Mike said that dominants don't let their submissives sit on the furniture," he observed.
"You're not my submissive."
Jayden opened his mouth to protest.
"And even if you were, the fact that I just told you to sit there makes anyone else's opinions on the order irrelevant."
Jayden obediently took his seat, neatly arranging his flag around him.
"Who's Mike?"
"Sir?"
"You said he's been telling you about submission?"
Jayden nodded. He appeared to have forgotten the original question.
"I have no idea who Mike is, or Ted, or Paul for that matter," Crenshaw reminded him. Even putting the names together failed to jog his memory or give him any idea what sort of submission he might have been taught about.
"Oh ... I'm sorry, sir. Mike and I went to school together. He's working for Jefferson's bank now. It's in the high street opposite the butchers. He always intended to —"
Within seconds it was obvious that the boy actually intended to tell him the life stories of all his friends.
Crenshaw put his hand over Jayden's mouth. It was well past time someone took control of the situation, and there was obviously only one person present who was capable of doing that. "This is what is going to happen. You're going to spend the night on my sofa and sleep off your bender."
Jayden shook his head, pulling away from his hand. "I wasn't on a bender. It was ..." he waved a hand around in an idle gesture, apparently forgetting that the hand was supposed to be holding his flag in place. The material fell aside leaving his entire body exposed.
However much he'd had to drink. It hadn't been enough to put his cock to sleep for the night. He was already half hard and starting to rise to the occasion very nicely.
"It was thingamabob courage."
"Dutch courage?" Crenshaw suggested, pulling his eyes back up to the other man's face. He really was quite stunning.
Jayden nodded. "That's the one, sir."
"Then you can stay on my sofa until you've slept off your courage," Crenshaw told him. His tone brooked no further argument on the subject. If Jayden hadn't poured so much courage into himself, he was pretty sure the boy would have taken the hint. As it was, he didn't even have a clue.
"I thought we were going to have sex, sir."
"You were wrong." He put his hand on Jayden's shoulder and pushed gently. The younger man toppled onto his side on the soft upholstery.
He automatically pulled his legs up onto the sofa and made himself comfortable. As Crenshaw watched, Jayden stared up at him, as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if there was no possible reason for him to be worried by the fact he'd just offered himself up to a complete stranger on a submissive little platter. "Because I'm drunk, sir?" "Partly, yes."
"And partly because you don't think I know what I'm doing?" "Yes."
Picking up the throw from the back of the other sofa, Crenshaw spread it over the younger man, covering him up before he could forget why he was supposed to do that. If his guest did have an interesting instinct for submission drowning in all that booze, he'd see it in the morning, but there was nothing that could be done with him right then.
Jayden parted his lips to speak. Crenshaw put his hand back over the younger man's mouth.
"Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
Jayden nodded. Crenshaw took his hand away, walked around the sofa and headed for his own bed before they both forgot why they should be sleeping in different rooms.
"If you change your mind about screwing me, you will wake me up, sir?" Crenshaw turned around.
Jayden was peeping over the back of the sofa. His hair had fallen into his eyes again. "Promise you'll wake me up if you change your mind, sir?" he asked. "I swear I won't be cranky if you do."
Crenshaw looked heavenward and reminded himself, just once more why he wasn't going to lay a hand on the boy, no matter how un-cranky it would make him. "Go to sleep."
Crenshaw's bedroom door closed behind him with a very decisive click.
Jayden gazed across the room, a frown growing between his eyebrows. The door didn't swing back open, no matter how hard he stared at it. When the little strip of light that showed through under the edge of the door disappeared, he gave up glaring and dropped back onto the sofa.
Wriggling his shoulders, he tried to find a comfortable position. The sofa was leather. It felt nice against his skin wherever the flag didn't get in the way, but it wasn't quite the leather he'd been hoping to be introduced to that night.
He'd been thinking more along the lines of cuffs and whips and collars. A sofa was ... Jayden sighed up at the ceiling and wrapped his flag a little more snugly around his shoulders beneath the blanket.
The silky fabric caressed his cock as it slid against his skin. It felt almost as nice as the leather beneath him, but the touch was too gentle, too teasing. If it had been the other man teasing him, that would have been one thing. Jayden had a sneaky suspicion that he might enjoy that. But he was damned if he was going to tease himself for no reason.
He reached down between the folds of fabric and trailed his fingers along his hardening shaft. A moment later his fist was wrapped properly around the stiffening length. He half sat up and looked across to the bedroom door again. Crenshaw's hand would have been better.
If he was just going to jack himself off while thinking of the other man, he could have stayed at home and done that sober in his own bed. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd exercised his right hand while picturing Crenshaw.
Even as he lay back down and flexed his fingers around his shaft, familiar scenes rushed to fill Jayden's mind. He'd developed quite a selection of very pretty fantasies since that first time he'd seen Crenshaw speaking at a gay pride rally.
One day, he would have to find the date that had dragged him to the event and thank him. Before that moment, he'd never realised just how erotic it could be to stand in a crowd and watch a man who was preaching to hundreds of men and suddenly find himself sure that the man was speaking directly to him.
The words hadn't been important. It was the tone of voice more than anything, the confidence in everything he said, the sheer bloody presence of the man. When he spoke like that, it was impossible not to pretend that he was ordering the crowd to do far more interesting things than sign petitions and support local gay businesses.
Jayden took a deep breath and let his eyes drop closed.
Crenshaw could order him to kneel before him. He could order him to suck him off — that would work. Jayden tightened his fist around his cock as blood rushed to his shaft. He'd always liked that fantasy. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd stood in a crowd listening to one of Crenshaw's speeches and imagined hearing the older man call him up onto the stage to go down on him in front of everybody.
For a moment, he was sure he could feel the other man's shaft slide past his lips, filling his mouth as he leaked pre-cum onto his tongue. Jayden licked his lips, unable to hold back a little whimper of pure pleasure as he swallowed down everything his master was willing to offer him.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Gay Pride"
by .
Copyright © 2010 Kim Dare.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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