The Other Man (Starting Over Book 2) Page 6

  That was the moment that Gabriel had fallen in love with Aled for real.

  Back in the summer, Aled had wanted to play a long game. They’d never played long before and Aled wanted to try it out. He’d wanted to lock Gabriel in the spare room and train him for sex. It was a game from one of their favourite porn films and one Gabriel had been itching to try out. And—out of nowhere—Aled had suggested it.

  “Two weeks,” he’d said. “You take some time off work, and we play. All the usual rules, you can safeword anything or the whole thing, but I’d just like to try it.”

  “I can’t,” Gabriel had said. “Not more than a week. I have to stay in touch with Kevin.”

  So Aled had made it happen. Every day of the game, Aled had allowed Gabriel ten minutes of free use of his phone. Ten minutes when Aled had just left the room, let Gabriel make the call or send his messages, then had come back and taken it away—and never looked.

  He’d never once looked at what Gabriel was saying.

  He hadn’t cared.

  And that was the moment that Gabriel had thought that he might actually love Aled a bit. That was the man he wanted to trust. That was the man he wanted to hold on to. That was the man he loved. He’d done it once. He’d been angry with Kevin in the beginning and they’d fixed it. Then that long game—he’d helped Gabriel meet the rules. And he’d never checked what Gabriel had said.

  Not ever.

  Gabriel swallowed.

  He’d trusted him when he’d asked to prove Kevin wasn't dangerous. He'd trusted him when he'd introduced Aled to Kevin properly. He’d trusted him in that game to not break Kevin’s rules on Gabriel’s behalf. And he could trust him again now.

  Right?

  “He comes round a lot.”

  Aled blinked. “What?”

  “Michael. And it takes time to set up new regulars.”

  “So—”

  “So either there’s going to be a lot of hook-ups and less time for you, what with going out to meet them and everything, or you’re going to have to step up to the plate.”

  Aled smirked. “I’ll step up.”

  “You sure you can handle that?”

  A hand ghosted down to cup Gabriel’s backside through his briefs and squeeze. “I’ll manage. It’s not exactly like screwing you is a chore.”

  “If you can’t step up, then you don’t get to complain about me going out to find others.”

  “I won’t,” Aled promised. “Never do, except for Michael.”

  Gabriel exhaled, then nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay—?”

  “Okay, I’ll break it off with him. But I mean it, Aled, this is the one time you get to ask this. I do love you, but I’m not sacrificing all other men for you, especially not with your dominant tendencies.”

  Aled’s arms tightened and he squeezed tightly in a hug, hooking his chin over Gabriel’s shoulder and rocking them lightly. It was tight. Warm. Comfortable—but not quite comforting. Gabriel rested his cheek against the closest shoulder but didn’t quite relax.

  “That’s fine,” Aled whispered. “More than fine. That’s good. And I promise, I swear, this is the only time I’ll ask. If I’m wrong, if it’s about regulars and not Michael, then not only will I not say a word if you get back with him, but I will find a counsellor and we will iron out my emotions together and stop the issue in its tracks. Promise.”

  Gabriel squeezed back, settling his head on Aled’s shoulder, and hoped he wasn’t misplacing his trust. In Aled, or Michael.

  Because Michael was not going to like this.

  Chapter Seven

  Aled was nervous.

  All right, Gabriel had agreed to break it off with Michael—but Aled was still twitchy. Afraid it would happen again. Scared he’d be wrong and it wouldn’t be just Michael but slowly dissolve into any other guy who Gabriel looked at with that wide open expression. Because that face—the one he gave Aled, the one he had when he talked about Kevin—wasn’t his predatory, sex-mad face.

  It was his heart.

  And Aled was scared that he was going to start hating it being directed at anyone but himself.

  Still, he clung to the simple fact that Gabriel pulled the same face about Kevin. Aled didn’t mind Kevin. Hell, they even got along relatively well, even though they had nothing in common outside of sex and who they liked to do it with. Aled certainly trusted Kevin to look after Gabriel and he didn’t stay up worrying or getting mad when Gabriel went round there.

  It was just Michael.

  It had to be just Michael.

  His urge to stake a bit of a claim—especially after Gabriel’s reluctant agreement—was still strong on Friday, though, so he texted at lunchtime, asking after the possibility of thieving Gabriel for the weekend.

  Okay :) came the reply. But be gentle at least tonight. Just done my T shot.

  Aled smirked. Gentle, sure. Possessive and dominant could be gentle too.

  He clocked out a bit later than he would have liked but headed straight up to Belle Isle, deciding to collect Gabriel from the flat—the possibility of a blackmail scenario was lurking at the back of his mind—and stop off on the way back to pick up a takeaway.

  Only when he got to the flats, there was a battered Clio in Gabriel’s never-used parking spot and voices in the stairwell.

  “He can take his fucking opinion and shove it!”

  Aled frowned, catching the communal door to close it quietly, and craned his neck to peer up the stairwell. He couldn’t see anything, but the shouting sounded like it was coming from Gabriel’s floor. And while the flats weren’t the nicest place in the world, Aled had never arrived to see blazing rows taking place on the landings. Heard them from inside other flats, sure, but not right out on the landing.

  “That’s fucking bullshit! Does he fucking pay you or something?”

  There was a frosty reply, a little too low to be made out, but Aled knew the rhythm of the voice anyway. Gabriel. Which meant the shouter was probably—

  Aled thinned his lips and took the stairs stealthily, fully intending to hear as much of this row as possible.

  “No, I won’t fucking clear off! Your new fuck doesn’t control me, and neither do you!”

  “This is my damn flat—if you don’t sod off, I’ll have the police out.”

  “Then fucking call them! I’m not fucking moving until you give me a damn good reason why—”

  “Because I bloody said so—that’s reason enough!”

  There was a bang and Aled sprinted the last flight, to swing up onto Gabriel’s landing and see both men squaring off. Aled had only seen Michael once before and hadn’t noticed then how tall he was. He towered over Gabriel, one hand planted flat on the doorframe, the skin white with the pressure, and Gabriel scowled resolutely back, arms folded over his chest and not an inch of forgiveness in his stance.

  “Am I interrupting?” Aled asked coldly.

  Michael rounded on him—and for a split second Aled thought he was about to get decked. Then, with a frustrated noise through his teeth, Michael sneered and shouldered past him, pounding down the stairs as though they had personally insulted his manhood. Only when the communal door slammed did Aled let out his breath and loosen his stance.

  Gabriel didn’t move.

  “Everything all right?” Aled asked warily.

  Gabriel shrugged. He was frowning deeply, almost vibrating with tension.

  “Michael didn’t take well to being cut off.”

  “He sounded—”

  “He’s pissy as fuck.”

  Aled hesitated. He wanted to ask if Michael had actually touched Gabriel at all, but knew he’d get his head bitten off. So instead, he took Michael’s place at the doorframe and reached out to rub his hands briskly up and down Gabriel’s biceps, as though warming him.

  “Okay?”

  It worked. The tension leaked away and Gabriel pulled a face before looping an arm around Aled’s neck and kissing him.

  “Yeah. Just annoyed. He
turned up about half an hour ago and started sounding off when I wouldn’t let him in.”

  “You just dumped him on the doorstep?”

  “I dumped him last night, actually.”

  “By text?”

  “I called him. I’m not that crass.”

  Aled laughed, ducking to the side and nipping at Gabriel’s earlobe. He still felt possessive but clamped down on it in favour of humour. Throwing his weight around right now wouldn’t do any good for either of them, especially if Michael hadn’t actually punched Gabriel or anything like that.

  “I was hoping to steal you. Got an overnight bag ready?”

  “Not quite. That knob interrupted.”

  Aled was allowed in while Gabriel finished packing a bag, though for once he didn’t feel like accosting Gabriel the moment he could. Instead, he perched on the end of the bed and made idle conversation, trying to distract them both from Michael and his temper, and when the bag was zipped up, caught at Gabriel’s wrist and pulled him down to the mattress for a hug.

  “This isn’t your place for the weekend,” Gabriel complained, all elbows and knees as he squirmed around into a more comfortable position.

  “In a bit,” Aled said, squeezing tightly and nuzzling at Gabriel’s hair. The bedhead was spectacularly impressive today. “Love you.”

  “Oh, God. What do you want.”

  “Nothing! God, you’re so hard to compliment.”

  Gabriel laughed, trying to wriggle free, so Aled followed, latching on again and wrapping all his limbs around that lithe form, squashing Gabriel close and rattling off a series of enormously cheesy compliments, ranging from that bedhead to the fact his feet weren’t cold when he put them on Aled’s calves during the night.

  Only when Gabriel finally gave up fighting and collapsed sniggering against Aled’s chest did Aled consider the distraction a success and showered his face and hair with little kisses until Gabriel started to snuggle back and they ended up in a tangle of warmth and relaxation.

  And Aled just didn’t want to let go.

  It took them an age to leave the flat. Aled felt possessive and affectionate all at once, and Gabriel didn’t seem to be in any kind of mood to discourage him. But with Michael’s presence lurking in the back of his mind, Aled didn’t want to give in and stay at the flat either. So eventually he insisted—though they still didn’t get home until after midnight. And judging by the hand that strayed to Aled’s thigh somewhere around the A650 and stayed there all the way into Wakefield, the time did nothing to Gabriel’s energy levels.

  “You’re getting cheeky,” Aled warned as he pulled off the main road into the housing estate.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I’d not, if I were you.”

  “Why?”

  “You wanted gentle. Don’t put me in the mood for teaching you a lesson if it’s gentle you’re after.”

  The hand was removed, albeit slowly and with trailing fingers, and Aled chuckled as he pulled up into the driveway and hauled on the handbrake.

  “Get yourself inside,” he said. “I’m going to put the car in the garage. And once you’re inside, you’re staying in there until Sunday night, so I suggest you don’t leave anything in the car you’ll be wanting later.”

  Gabriel’s breath caught. Then he was gone, a shadow up the garden path, and Aled smirked. Gentle or not, this was going to be fun. And the bruise from the shot was always gone by the following day, so he didn’t need to be soft for long.

  He took his time, even pausing in the garden to check on the flowers, before letting himself into the conservatory. Gabriel had disappeared, his bag abandoned in the hall. A light had been switched on upstairs and Aled slowly shed his jacket and shoes before hooking the security chain across the front door and heading up to his bedroom.

  “Stand up,” he said casually as he entered, shutting the door behind him. He bolted it then slid a numeric padlock through the empty space to prevent the bolt being drawn back again. “If you want out of this room, you’ll have to earn it.”

  Gabriel stood at the end of the bed, chewing on his lip. Aled teased it out with a thumb and tapped it.

  “Stop biting that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” he crooned, stroking Gabriel’s neck before dropping his hands to Gabriel’s jeans. He smacked Gabriel’s hands away when they tried to help. “Don’t do anything until I tell you.”

  He stripped Gabriel efficiently of his jeans, underwear and socks, but left his tight T-shirt in place. Sometimes he was allowed to play with Gabriel’s chest, and sometimes he wasn’t. And unfortunately, he was yet to figure out a pattern to his permission. What Aled had in mind tonight wasn’t entirely compatible with Gabriel’s complicated feelings about his tits, and he didn’t want the dysphoria turning up to ruin his plans—so the T-shirt stayed on, even if the gentle rise suggested Gabriel was wearing a bra instead of a binder.

  It wasn’t an impediment, though. Those narrow wrists were bound together with a silk ribbon, a deep and almost violent blue against Gabriel’s pale complexion, and another roll of silk was rummaged up from the bedside drawers. Aled began to twist it in complicated patterns around Gabriel’s torso, binding his arms to his chest so forcefully that he could barely even move his shoulders, the T-shirt flattening so tightly that every contour of muscle and the swells of his breasts could be seen through the cotton.

  “You can play away all you want,” Aled said conversationally as he knotted the silk behind Gabriel’s neck and reached for another, shorter, piece of ribbon, “but this weekend, you belong to me. Your pleasure is incidental. If you behave yourself, there’s no need for anything to hurt. But if you disobey me, then I will hurt you. And I take what I want anyway. Whether or not you like it is up to you. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gabriel’s voice was a breathy whisper and his eyes were cast downwards. Bound tight in the ribbon, naked from the waist down, he was the picture of submission.

  Aled slipped the length over his eyes, that blackness vanishing from view, and secured it tightly. The picture complete, a shiver of uncertainty nevertheless vibrated in the back of Aled’s mind. After a blazing row with Michael on the doorstep, Gabriel was now here, promised violence if he resisted—

  He cupped that narrow face in both hands and gently kissed Gabriel’s lower lip. Chaste. Sweet. Barely even there.

  “Colour?” he whispered.

  Gabriel’s reply was immediate. “Green.”

  Aled nudged their noses together for a brief moment, just to feel Gabriel breathe, then pulled back and steered him onto the bed. He didn’t say a word, merely arranged Gabriel as he pleased—face-up, caught between rows of pillows, pinned in place by softness and silk. Raising Gabriel’s hips onto a cushion opened his thighs naturally and Aled spread them farther with his hands, before squeezing both knees.

  “Stay there.”

  When he let go, Gabriel remained perfectly still. His cock was already thicker, his thighs pink with pooling arousal, and Aled stripped quickly before finding a bottle of massage oil that doubled up as lube and settling between those spread legs. They shivered at the first touch of Aled’s slick fingers to Gabriel’s already damp pussy.

  “Don’t move,” he warned in a deceptively soft tone, stroking his fingers gently up the short, swelling shaft. “If you do, I’ll get the wire to hold you still and rip bloody holes in your pretty legs while I fuck you.”

  The shiver vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  “That’s better.”

  He didn’t say much as he worked Gabriel open with gentle fingers and persistence. Aled’s instincts always defaulted to dirty talk and threats, but something felt wrong about doing so after the scene in the stairwell. So instead, he busied his mouth on soft skin stretched tight over slim hips, on the gentle swell of Gabriel’s belly and the heave of his chest through sweat-soaked cotton as Aled worked.

  And when his hand was buried to the wrist in Gabriel’s slick h
eat and Aled flexed his fingers gently like an opening sunflower, he rose up to catch the cry between his lips and hold that precarious silence.

  This weekend, Gabriel would be owned.

  But it wouldn’t be like all the other times.

  * * * *

  Aled leaned against the doorframe, cock in lubed hand, and smirked.

  He’d left Gabriel in the spare room overnight—still trussed up tight in those ribbons, ankles tied with fresh ones to the bedposts and a gag added between his teeth to complete the picture.

  It was tempting, given Aled’s usual preferences, to wake Gabriel with a slap and start the day by turning him over and dry-fucking him for some imagined infraction. To humiliate him and make use of his body. To make him come, crying, on Aled’s cock then fuck him again before he was ready.

  But the memory of Michael’s white-knuckled grip on the doorframe in the hall made such urges feel…disturbing.

  So Aled moved silently to the end of the headboard, massaging his cock to hardness, and raked his gaze down that long, lithe form. The ribbons were twisted now, deep blue strings on white skin, and those freed thighs were cum-stained and bruised with bite marks. The faint sheen of lube could still be seen.

  A mess. A bound and gagged mess that wouldn’t be able to do anything but take every thrust into his tight, warm body.

  Aled dropped onto the end of the bed without warning.

  Gabriel stiffened, his knees drawing up a little towards his hips before his ankles could be pulled no farther. The tension was sudden and palpable, but although the hands bound tight under his jaw were curled into fists, the thumbs were on the outside. Visible. His mute green for when his mouth was busy.

  God, he was so fucking beautiful.

  Aled pulled.

  In a smooth rush over the mattress, he dragged Gabriel down onto his slick cock. Despite the fresh coat of lube, Aled’s skin still caught on the sticky mess from the night before, then punched through to the tight, silken grip beyond. Gabriel yelled around the silk, his thighs pushing weakly as though trying to pull away, but Aled slid his hands down to silk-bound hips and held him fast.