“The watch.” Cal gestured at it. “Take it off.”
The question was etched across James’s forehead, but he did as he was told, and when Cal motioned for it, he placed the watch in Cal’s outstretched palm.
Cal reached back and set the watch on the table behind the couch. The metal clicked quietly on the wood, but the sound seemed to echo through the huge living room. Now that it was sitting behind him, just a few inches away, Cal could hear it ticking. All too aware of the seconds slowly scraping past, he could barely keep himself from glancing at it like James had been doing.
“Nick said we should make sure there was some water handy.” He turned to James. “We should put a few bottles in the bedroom.” He paused. Though he was in charge, this was James’s turf, and Cal had noticed the rentboys rarely if ever went near James’s bedroom. Maybe that was sacred ground. “On second thought, downstairs. The billiards room.”
James closed his eyes and shuddered. Cal grinned. He imagined Nick could come up with some creative things to do in there.
“Put some water down there.”
James nodded and got up, probably thankful for an excuse to move.
Cal was unaware of the huge billiards room being used for anything much, but since it was a cellar room, dug out from under the ancient house a few years ago, it was insulated from all angles. Maybe they could convert it into a proper dungeon, like the ones Cal had seen on the internet. Not like he’d recently spent way too much time surfing those websites while he should have been writing.
While Nick made do with the sturdy bedframe in his own house, Cal quite liked the idea of a St. Andrew’s Cross or a spanking bench. James was a lot more twitchy than Spencer, so maybe getting tied down would help him let go. On the other hand, Nick had told him he preferred it when Spencer didn’t move because he had told him not to. And Spencer obeyed beautifully.
But James? So many possibilities. They were only at the beginning, with wide open territory before them. Domination was nebulous, a mind-set. How to form it, shape it, and how to do it right? Thank God he had some guidance.
Speaking of which. The doorbell rang. Cal was tempted to let James get it, but he didn’t want James to face Nick alone. So he opened the door.
Nick. Tight leather trousers, shining boots, a black canvas bag slung over his shoulder, blond fringe falling into his brow. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt with EAT THE RICH across his chest, and Cal hoped he’d lose that before they got into playing.
“Hi, good seeing you. Come on in.”
Nick grinned. “And you. Nice outfit.”
“Thanks.” Cal followed Nick into the house. In the living room, Nick and James locked eyes, and were silent for a moment. Cal had no idea what had gone on between the two of them the last time Nick was here, but he had a feeling they were both mentally reliving it. James fidgeted. Nick’s expression was blank, revealing nothing about how he felt standing in front of James again. If he’d enjoyed the last time, if he was happy for the rematch, or if he was just a predator sizing up his prey.
After a moment, Nick gestured at Cal. “Do you like the way he looks, James?”
James nodded. “Yes, of course.”
As Nick had suggested, Cal was wearing what he usually wore at work. Black trousers—these were tailored. White shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but buttoned up almost completely. Polished leather shoes. All he needed was a uniform jacket and . . .
Nick glanced at him. “Something’s missing, though.” He snapped his fingers. “Gloves. You need gloves. Driver kink is nothing without gloves. Hell, maybe even sunglasses. Pilot shades, if you’ve got them.”
At the edge of Cal’s vision, James shuddered and ran a hand through his hair.
Cal swallowed. Apparently he had a lot to learn about this particular kink. “They’re, um, in the car.” He gestured at the foyer. “I’ll be right back.”
Nick nodded sharply. “We’ll be downstairs when you get back.”
Cal turned to go. He was halfway to the front door when he paused, wondering if this was a ploy to get him out of the room. Well, Nick was in charge, so Cal continued outside. He jogged around to the garage. The rarely worn gloves were in the car’s glove compartment, and his sunglasses—also not needed in this cloud-covered city—were in the console.
On the way back to the house, he put on the glasses and gloves. Now that he thought about it, he did recall James glancing at his gloved hands while he’d held open the car door one bitterly cold day. Or maybe he was imagining it. Fabricating a memory now that Nick had emphasised the connection between the gloves and the “driver kink,” which Cal wished he’d known about a long time ago.
Could’ve used that to my advantage, he thought with a chuckle.
When he stepped into the foyer, the ground floor was empty. He couldn’t see all the other rooms, but he could feel it. No voices, no movement, none of Nick’s presence vibrating off the walls.