Blurb:
It's been a long time since Rex indulged his needs. He wants to, he just...can't. Can he trust Declan to help him?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They made their way
back through the crowd, and Declan slid his card into the reader. He steered
Rex down another hall to their right, and to another door. "It's a private
room. I reserved it for us."
Rex waited as Declan
opened the door and stepped back. His heart hammered as he crossed the
threshold. In front of him, hanging on the wall, loomed a Saint Andrew's Cross,
leering down at him like an evil thing. Every fiber of his being screamed at
him to run. Nothing good would come of this; he'd only get hurt. Sure,
everything would start out all fine and dandy, and he'd be enjoying himself,
but then it would all go too far. Where would the scars be this time? His
breathing hitched and he took a step back, colliding with Declan's chest.
"Easy."
Declan ran his hands up and down Rex's arms, then pulled Rex back against him. "Nothing
is going to happen that you don't want. Understand?"
Rex nodded. Nice
words, but that's what the last Dom had said. He took a deep breath to try to
steady himself. He was being an idiot. He'd known Declan for over seven years.
In that time, he'd never heard of Declan hurting anyone. The Shady Business
BDSM club, and Grey Shade specifically, came highly recommended by people in
the lifestyle. He'd wanted to come here and do this for so long -- at least a
year now. He needed to get past his fear and get back into the life he loved
living. And having Declan to himself -- finally -- for the night didn't hurt
his feelings.
Declan stepped
around in front of Rex. He took Rex's face in his hands and leaned in for a
gentle kiss. He slid his hands down to capture Rex's wrists, rubbed his thumbs
over the scars. "We'll go slow tonight, I promise you. I will not hurt
you."
"I trust you."
Rex forced the words out through his too-thick-with-emotion throat. He realized
his hands were shaking and he balled them into fists.
Declan moved away
and went to the far side of the room. "Come."
He spoke the word in
a crisp, commanding tone that sent shivers up and down Rex's spine. Rex forced
himself to put one foot in front of the other. He tried hard to concentrate on
the idea of being bound, of being on display for Declan's amusement and
pleasure, instead of his memories. Somehow, he found the gumption to keep
moving, to turn, and let Declan guide him to the cross. Declan started
unbuttoning his own shirt, and panic rose in Rex like a fever, washing him in a
cold sweat. Nakedness meant sex, didn't it? "I want to keep my clothes on,"
he blurted.
Declan paused in his
movements and looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "Would you
prefer I kept mine on as well?"
Rex teetered on the
edge of control, half way between bolting out the door and throwing himself at
Declan's feet. God, how he'd wanted this; dreamt of it, how he'd spent so many
years lusting after his friend, wanting nothing more than to be allowed this
close. One night, one horribly, horribly wrong night, had changed everything,
stolen all his will and replaced it with terror. And the last time... If he
shook his head now, if he said no, would he ever get the chance again? "It's
up to you," he whispered.
Declan shook his
head. "No, it's entirely up to you. You are the sub. You need to tell me
what you're comfortable with." He reached out and touched Rex's cheek with
the back of his hand. "When I said I'd never hurt you, I meant it."
Rex swallowed and
licked his dry lips. Maybe it didn't have to be all or nothing. Declan had said
they'd take it slow, right? Maybe he could do this in half steps. "Take
off your shirt, then."
Declan nodded and
finished the buttons, slid the garment back off his shoulders.
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