Playing with Fire Page 8

I recalled what I’d overheard at the party. “You’re an only child and your parents are dead.” He nodded. “Did you grow up here in San Francisco?”

  “No, in Florida. I studied here though. When my parents died, I moved here.”

  “You left Florida for San Francisco? Boy, do you like the cold or something?”

  Pete laughed. “I like it here, all right? Besides, there was nothing to keep me in Florida, only memories.” His face tightened.

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t as crazy as I’d thought. He sat stiffer than before, his expression neutral.

  I changed the subject, determined to raise a smile. “So, have you always been a kinky little shit?”

  Christ, he nearly spluttered coffee all over the couch.

  “Did I touch a nerve?”

  Pete flushed. It was such an unexpected reaction, and fucking adorable. “When I was a kid, I used to collect action figures. Nothing unusual about that, except that… Spiderman used to tie up Batman.”

  I chuckled. “There you go. Why am I not surprised?” It provided me with a nice segue, however. “That’s actually what I wanted us to discuss before tomorrow.”

  I was pleased to note how he straightened, his focus sharpening. “Okay.”

  “You remember I asked if you wanted to be my boy.” It had been two weeks ago, but I could still recall the look on his face. Sort of an ‘Oh my God it’s Christmas come early’ expression.

  “Yes, Sir.” His voice was softer.

  I shifted on the couch to face him. “Well, there are some things we have to work out before I take you to the fair.”

  “Like what?”

  “Limits.” I cocked my head. “Do you know what I’m talking about?” It was fine if he didn’t. That was the purpose of the conversation, after all.

  “You mean, you want to know what stuff I’d have no problems with, and the stuff I wouldn’t ever consider doing in a month of Sundays.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, but you might be surprised to learn that the stuff you say No way José to now, might not stay that way.” I took a sip of coffee before continuing. “For instance, I may not know you all that well, but I know enough to be fairly confident that bondage is going to be something you have no qualms about. Spiderman and Batman were a bit of a giveaway.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “But what might be a soft limit for you is where and when that takes place.”

  “Soft limit?” He scrunched up his eyebrows.

  “A soft limit means you’re happy to do it, but you might hesitate about it or place certain conditions on it in specific circumstances.”

  “Wow.” He stared at me, eyes wide.

  “What?”

  Pete smiled. “We’re really going to do this.”

  I guess the penny had finally dropped. I nodded. “Yes, we are.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through, searching for a file.

  “You know, you don’t sound the same as you did, that first time in your basement.”

  I glanced up to find him regarding me thoughtfully. “Oh?”

  Pete nodded slowly. “Back then you were gruffer, coarser.”

  “And exactly like you’d expected me to sound.”

  His eyes widened. “How… how did you know that?”

  I chuckled. “Once you’d seen how my basement was kitted out, you thought I’d be like the guys you’d seen on the internet. How you imagined a Dom to be.” Not that I’d known that right away. That realization had come as I’d gotten to know him a little better. That first night, though, I’d played a role, and he’d lapped it up.

  My dick stiffened at the memory of Pete on all fours, lapping up cum from the floor because I’d told him to. That act alone had told me the boy had potential.

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “But what about now?”

  “Now we need to be honest with each other, to be ourselves. I don’t expect you to hide what you want from me, or else what would be the point? And you need to see me as I am, to know I will take care of your needs.” And you. Shit. Danger, Will Robinson, danger. Maybe I should file that little afterthought far away for now.

  He gazed at me in silence for a moment before nodding again. “That make sense.”

  I snickered. “Glad to hear it.” I handed Pete the phone. “This is a basic list. I need you to tell me what would be fine and dandy as far as you’re concerned, what you might possibly think about doing if not right now, and what would be a hard limit for you.” I grinned. “That would be your ‘Hell No’ list.” I already had a fair idea of where he’d draw the line, but I’d been surprised before.

  Pete perused the list and drew in a sharp breath. “I think I’ve just found my first hard limit.”

  I waited, sipping my coffee.

  He grimaced. “Scat.”

  Yeah, like I hadn’t seen that one coming. “Okay. Good to know. What about water sports?” It wasn’t something I was all that keen on, but I’d need to know if he was.

  “Possibly?” The word crept out of him, his hesitation so fucking cute.

  “Duly noted.”

  My reaction seemed to relax him. He breathed more easily and focused on the list. “So yeah, my ‘absolutely gotta have these’ are bondage, spanking and toys.”

  I snorted. “Tell me something I didn’t know.” When he nodded absently, his teeth worrying his lip, my curiosity was aroused. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s got you so thoughtful?”

  He raised his chin. “Exhibitionism, for one thing.”

  I couldn’t resist. “Seeing as I’m going to be parading you along Folsom Street in a pair of ridiculously tight leather shorts tomorrow, I’d say that was a good thing.” He laughed, and I went in for the kill. “Of course, that would also cover me spanking you in public. Fucking you.” I gazed at him, not breaking eye contact. “That still okay?”

  The sharp intake of breath and the way his eyes glazed over was answer enough. I grinned to myself. It looked like my plans for the following day were still in the cards.

  Time to push him a bit farther.

  “What about others?” I kept my tone even.

  “Others?” He knitted his brows. “What do you mean?”

  “What if I decide to involve other people in what we do?”

  He swallowed. Hard. “What would that entail, exactly?”

  I gave a shrug. “Letting them touch you. Kiss you.” I locked gazes with him. “Fuck you. With me present, of course.”

  Fuck, his eyes were huge. “I… I think that might be one of those soft limits you mentioned.” His voice cracked slightly.

  I cocked my head to one side. “So it’s not an outright no, it’s a ‘let’s see how I feel should the occasion arise’?”

  He gave another careful nod. “Yes.”

  It was more than I’d expected. It would be interesting to see how he reacted when the time came. Because now I fully intended for the occasion to present itself.

  “You said, for one thing. Is there something else?”

  He nodded. “Fisting,” he said quietly, more subdued now. I guess I’d given him something to think about.

  It was then that I recalled that first time in my basement. I’d mentioned fisting him then, and his reaction had been interesting. He’d frozen, but not before I’d seen something in his eyes, his face, something that had made me think Pete wouldn’t always be averse to having my hand inside his ass.

  “That will be something for us to work toward,” I said, still keeping my voice low and even. “We’re talking a whole lot of trust between us before we go down that road.”

  Pete nodded. “I’m okay with that.” He spoke calmly, and I was so fucking proud of him for speaking up.

  This was going to be interesting.

  When it became apparent that he was fine with the rest of the list, I made a decision.

  “I want you to go back to your place tonight.”

  Christ, he looked like a little puppy that had been kicked, and the sight tu
gged at my insides. “I… I can’t stay with you tonight?”

  I shook my head. “I want you to spend some time alone and think about what we’ve discussed.” I softened the blow. “But tomorrow night? I’m taking you some place special.”

  His eyes widened. “Where?”

  “A party hosted by some friends of mine. They have an apartment overlooking Folsom Street.” I’d saved the best for last. “It’s a sex party. Ever been to one of those?”

  Fuck, his eyes were huge. “No.” In that instant I knew what he was thinking, not that it was all that difficult: Sex party went hand in hand with others, after all.

  “Then this will be quite an experience.” I had plans for that tight ass. “And afterward, you can come back here and stay the night.” I was going to want him close, especially if the party went as I intended.

  Pete was going to be my boy, lock stock and barrel.

  All the fun of the fair

  I had never felt so naked in my life.

  I was grateful for the day’s temperature: at least I wasn’t freezing my ass off. I kept reaching up to touch the collar Damon had placed around my neck before we’d left his place. The way he’d looked at me when he fastened it… It was enough to make me thrust my chest out and hold my chin high. A leather leash was clipped to the D ring at the front, Damon holding the other end. A slow nod of approval made me feel ten feet tall, but better still was the kiss that followed. It was as if he claimed my mouth as his.

  “Is it what you expected?”

  I snorted. “God, no.”

  I’d expected leather, a sea of it. I’d expected to see lots of harnesses fitted snugly across broad, furry chests. Chaps and leather pants, encasing bulging thigh muscles and prominently displaying full, heavy dicks. An ocean of men, and the scent and taste of testosterone in the air.

  But… pushchairs? Mothers with pushchairs?

  I’d read up on the street fair, its early days, the kind of guys who’d frequented it. Never having gotten up sufficient nerve to see for myself, I made do with staring at lots and lots of photos. But the reality was far different.

  The street was packed, but not the way I’d anticipated. Sure, the fair was loud, music playing from several different points along the way, and everywhere I looked, something was going on, but still, the whole scene left me with the impression that somehow Folsom had been… diluted.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Damon pushed.

  “It’s not a case of what I expected to see, more a case of what I didn’t.”

  He followed my gaze with his own. “Yeah, there’s a lot of sports kit, isn’t there?”

  There was, to the point where it seemed there was more casual wear than leather. Guys walked around in long shorts with their asses hanging out.

  “It’s not just that,” I remonstrated. “It’s the sheer diversity of body types.” Yes, there were the lean, muscled, fit men I’d expected, but there were also the woefully unfit. I lowered my voice and leaned in closer. “I’m finding it so ironic that the men who should be showing off a lot of skin aren’t, whereas those men who, God help them, really shouldn’t have that much acreage of flesh on display, are the ones walking around in next-to-nothing—or in some cases, nothing.” Then I had second thoughts. Surely it was a good thing that they felt comfortable enough to be themselves? My chest tightened and I swallowed. Body shaming was for assholes.

  Damon chuckled. “I hope you’re not including me in that last statement.”

  I snorted. “As if. You’re fucking gorgeous and you know it.” Then I snapped my mouth shut. I hadn’t intended to be that honest.

  Damon’s arm slipped around my waist and he kissed my cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture. “Nice to know my efforts are appreciated.” He straightened. “I’d be the first to admit that Folsom has changed in recent years. There was this one guy who came every year. His thing was to lie naked in the middle of the sidewalk and jack off. When he was done, he’d get up, move to someplace else and do it all over again. Last year? There he was, doing his thing, but surrounded by a group of giggling Japanese girls, all dressed in pink, pointing at him and taking pictures. I remember thinking at the time, I can see it now when they get home and show their folks their holiday photos. ‘This is what Americans do.’” He shook his head. “Folsom is becoming a tourist spectacle.”

  There was certainly plenty for tourists to look at. Leather gear, rubber, guys crawling on all fours in puppy masks, complete with puppy tail butt plugs, guys strolling around with their dicks poking out of their shorts… There were even a few Furries.

  “And if you think it’s busy now,” Damon said, gesturing to the street, “you should see it after three o’clock. Then it gets really jammed.”

  So far, I’d seen lots of stalls. There were any amount of vendors, selling leather gear, rubber, you name it, but there were also stalls for community groups, the gay rugby team, and a stall where you could get tested for HIV. As we progressed along Folsom Street, we passed the Kink.com booth, where they’d set up a dungeon scenario, but I got the sense that it wasn’t typical BDSM but rather a watered down version. When I said as much to Damon, he nodded in agreement.

  “This is more for spectacle.” He pointed to a couple of guys on the stage. “Those two are porn stars, as are all of the guys performing here. Their background is more modeling than BDSM. Watch.”

  I watched as one guy bent another over a bench and smacked his ass.

  “See? You won’t see floggers or whips here, or even paddles. Their hands make a good loud noise, and that’s what they’re after. And look at their facial expressions. They’re trying to look like they’re being mean, when actually… ”

  I nodded too. We reached the Mr. S stall that had been set up next to a stage, complete with padded bench, a St. Andrew’s cross and a bondage table with little hooks all the way around it. Men of all shapes and sizes were packed in around it, watching.

  “Hey, there’s your new admirer,” Damon said, nudging my arm and grinning.

  On the stage, Dirk Caber was tying up a member of the audience with black ropes, keeping up a running commentary. I couldn’t catch the words, but people were laughing. I had to admit, he clearly knew what he was doing.

  “They’ll do demos in flogging and bondage all day,” Damon told me.

  Across the street was another demo, this time of puppy handling, involving one large guy and three men in puppy gear. The street was more tightly packed at that point, and Damon stopped me in the middle of it where a sea of guys were watching a game of Twister. The participants were also porn stars, oiled up and having a great time by the look of things.

  “Hey, Damon!” A few heads turned our way and hands clasped in greeting. “We were wondering if you’d be here.”

  Damon inclined his head toward me. “We’ve been taking our time. His first visit to Folsom.”

  One huge guy in front of us grinned. “Sweet.” His gaze met mine. “You’ll have a great time.” It soon became apparent that we were standing in the middle of seven or eight of Damon’s friends, judging by the greetings that flew back and forth. I couldn’t help but notice how they addressed him, their voices warm and friendly. I received nods and smiles.

  I watched the spectacle, what I could see of it anyway. There had to be hundreds of us, all facing the stage with barely enough room to take one step in any direction.

  “Kneel in front of me.”

  Damon’s low instruction broke my concentration. I blinked. “Here?” Damon nodded and I gazed around me in bewilderment. “But… there’s no room. We’re jammed in here.”

  Damon grinned. It was as if a ripple started, spreading out from him to all the guys around us. Those in front of him took a step forward, leaving just enough space for me to do as he’d instructed. At his sides, a couple of men shifted closer, their stance almost protective.

  How did he do that?

  “That enough, Damon?” One of the men in front half-inclined his head, his v
oice low.

  “Plenty, thanks, guys.” Damon locked gazes with me and pointed to the small clearing they’d created. “Knees, Pete.” He gave a quick tug on the leash, still grinning.

  No way. I wanted more information before I agreed to… whatever the hell he was suggesting.

  “And what am I going to do when I get down there?” My stomach was rock hard but there was a fluttery feeling deep inside it. My heartbeat raced and my skin tingled all over.

  “You’re going to suck my cock until I come down your throat.” Damon rubbed the crotch of his tight leather pants, where the outline of his erect dick was clearly visible.

  I swallowed. It wasn’t that I was averse to a little public cocksucking—far from it: my dick would have been like stone at the very idea, if it wasn’t for the cock cage Damon had eased and locked around my flaccid member that morning. But not if it was likely to get my ass thrown in jail. “Er, Damon? There are notices everywhere. No sex.”

  “Pfft. That means nothing.” Damon gestured with his head to the tight knit group of guys surrounding us. “They’ll tell us if the cops show. And no one in this audience is going to complain, trust me.” His eyes gleamed. “Or am I pushing you a little too far? Is that it?” He tilted his head to one side. “Because I haven’t heard your safe word yet.” His lips twitched.

  The bastard. He already knew I was going to do it.

  I moved to face him, before carefully lowering myself to my knees.

  “Good boy.” Damon was almost purring. “Hands behind your back, right hand clasping your left wrist.”

  I did as instructed, Damon’s leather pants barely containing his heavy cock inches from my mouth. I licked my lips as he lowered the zip and fished it out, dark with blood, skin stretched tightly over the wide head. He wrapped his hand around the base and held it out at ninety degrees. “Now open wide and take it deep.”

  Like he needed to tell me twice.

  I shut out the crowd, the noise, the possibility of arrest, and sucked on that gorgeous dick. I fucking loved the taste of him, had done ever since that first time. Damon was addictive.

  He bit back a groan and cupped the back of my head with his hands, holding me steady while he pumped his dick in and out of my mouth, sliding it faster between my lips.