Screwing the System (20 page)

Alasdair rubbed his chin, looking him up and down. “I could do your upper back instead, if you want. Stick to a paddle for your bum. What do you reckon? I think you’ll like the cane. It’s a different kind of pain. More intense. Almost”—he stepped right up in Cosmo’s face and growled into his ear—“sizzling.” He nipped the earlobe again, hard enough to make Cosmo gasp.

“Shit. Yeah, all right, then. We’ll try it.”

“Good boy,” Alasdair purred. “Follow me.”

Ten minutes into band practice the following day, Cosmo began to question the wisdom of wearing only a thin T-shirt over the welts on his back. He’d chosen his softest, thinnest, almost worn away T-shirt with the neck and arms cut off, reasoning that it would be the kindest on his abused skin. However, it wasn’t doing much to cushion the guitar strap where it cut across his trapezius. What had been a tingling reminder of the night before had now turned into a persistent chafing.

He adjusted the strap again and wriggled his shoulders as Rizzo let rip on his solo.

“All right, mate?” Nasher asked, throwing down his drumsticks.

Rizzo shot them both a scowl but carried on twiddling away high up the fretboard.

“Got a bit of a sore shoulder. Sunburn.” Which was a really shit excuse, because who got sunburnt in April? “Any chance I can borrow an extra T-shirt?”

Nasher’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. “You know where to find one.”

“On the floor in a stinking heap?”

Nasher smiled as he flipped him the bird.

Cosmo found a relatively clean-smelling T-shirt in the pile he assumed were for wearing again rather than heading to the washing machine, but it wasn’t all that easy to tell. Wasn’t really Nasher’s fault, though. His room had come without any furniture whatsoever, and the bloke spent all his spare cash on keeping his van running. One thing there was, though, was a sink in the corner with a crooked mirror tile stuck on the wall above.

Cosmo shoved Nasher’s shirt between his knees and pulled the neck of his own T-shirt wide. He twisted around and peered over his shoulder, admiring the red stripes crisscrossing the smooth skin of his back. Just looking at them made his balls throb in an oh-so-pleasant way. Was this how Alasdair felt, admiring his handiwork? Maybe he could understand some of the pleasures in sadism, although he was sure he’d rather be on the receiving end of erotic torture.

A shocked gasp tore through Cosmo’s daydreams, and he whirled around to see Nasher standing in the open doorway. The bloke’s face was so white his freckles stood out like a dot the dot.

“What?” Cosmo glared, daring Nasher to say anything.

Nasher’s gaze darted away and his hand went up to rub at the back of his neck. “Erm, Rizzo’s getting pretty bitchy about what’s taking you so long.”

“Rizzo can go fuck himself sideways with a shovel.”

Nasher’s mouth flickered into a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile before settling back into grim concern. “Everything okay, mate? You can tell me. You know. If anything’s, uh, bothering you. Any problems or whatever. With Mr. Mercedes.” The cheesy nickname didn’t do anything to distract from the bitter tone of Nasher’s voice when he mentioned Alasdair.

“I’m fine. Really.” Cosmo pulled on the baggy T-shirt and picked his way over the clothes on the floor to where Nasher stood, still scratching his neck and looking awkward. “Seriously. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, okay? I’ve got it all. Alasdair’s amazing.”

Nasher’s mouth twisted in the most unconvincing smile ever. “Great.” He turned on his heel. “Come on. We’ve gotta get on with ‘Sober’. Brett can’t get the hang of the chorus, but he’ll be all right if you’re there to keep him on track.”

Cosmo watched Nasher’s retreating back before rousing himself to follow. Christ. That was awkward. Was he going to have to explain the masochism thing to Nasher? Judging by his obvious dislike of Alasdair, it wouldn’t go down well.

No. He’d save it for a while. Wait until he was sure he’d be staying with Alasdair. Sure that this was the real deal and not just a phase he was going through. No point upsetting Nasher for nothing, was there?

“What do your friends think about the kinky stuff?” Cosmo asked Alasdair that evening as he lay on the sofa with his head on Alasdair’s lap. There was a footie game on the telly, but he wasn’t particularly invested in the outcome of Spurs vs. QPR. “You know, when you tell them that’s what you’re into?”

“What makes you think I tell anyone?” Alasdair’s hand played in Cosmo’s hair, making him want to purr and push himself up against the stroking.

“But how can you hide it? There’s a part of me just wants to go around telling the whole fucking world how amazing it all is.”

“So what’s stopping you?” Alasdair sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“I dunno. P’raps because they’ll think you’re some kind of depraved pervert and want to sic social services on your arse?”

“If I’m a pervert, so are you.”

“Oh yeah. Totally.” Cosmo ground his freshly spanked arse against the sofa cushion and wriggled with pleasure. “I just think someone like Nash is gonna reckon you’re abusing me. He’s a bit of a mother hen at times.”

Alasdair wrinkled his nose. “That’s the ginger beanpole, right?”

“Yep.”

“He’s just jealous.”

“I don’t think so. He can’t stand you.”

“Not jealous of you. Of me.”

“What d’you mean?”

Alasdair was looking at him like he was dumb. “He fancies you. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nasher? Nah, he’s straight as a fucking ruler. Seriously. I’ve known him since we were in preschool. There’s no way he’s into cock. I would know.”

“If you say so.”

“I bloody well do.” Time to change the subject before they got into an argument. “You seriously never told any of your friends? How do you hide something like this?”

“I don’t have a lot of time for socialising.” And now maybe Alasdair was trying to change the subject, because he dug his fingers into Cosmo’s scalp, twisting his head around so he was almost in the perfect position for a blowjob. “Your hair’s getting longer.”

“It’s due a cut. You got any clippers here?”

“Could you grow it out a bit? For me?”

Irritation flared like a match head. “Oh, I get it. Want me to look more respectable now, do you? It ain’t gonna happen.”

“It’s not that.” Alasdair’s voice dropped into a deep growl. “I just like the idea of holding on to it while you blow me.”

“Oh.” Heat sizzled through Cosmo’s nerves, lighting up his whole body. “Yeah. Okay. I could grow it for that, I guess.” Alasdair made a pleased sound and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. Cosmo helped out, grabbing a handful of half-hard flesh that was stiffening by the moment. He licked the salty head and something occurred to him. “Just coz I’m growing it out, though, doesn’t mean it’s going to look neat or anything. Expect punk.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now shut up and let me watch the game.”

“Yes, boss.” Cosmo grinned before sucking Alasdair to the root. Boss-man wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on the game. Not if he could help it.

Alasdair stared down into his drawer of blindfolds, gags and hoods. He’d decided to celebrate their two-week cohabitation anniversary with a scene, and since they hadn’t yet experimented with much sensory deprivation, it seemed a good time to redress the balance. Cosmo had taken to flagellation and bondage like a duck to water, but trusting someone who’d taken away your sense of sight was a very different test.

He picked up a leather blindfold and ran his fingers over the padding on the inside. No, they’d tried a blindfold. Time for something different. He picked up a lightweight leather hood instead, the one without eyeholes. Cosmo found the smell of leather a turn-on, so this should be exciting for him. And for Alasdair, there was the zip he could undo for access to Cosmo’s luscious mouth.

He gathered up two pairs of leather cuffs from the drawer below and threw a spreader bar onto the bed. Another new thing for Cosmo to try. It might not be as elegant as using ropes, but there was a definite appeal to teasing a hooded sub with his knees spread wide. He tucked the hood in his back pocket, and, carrying the cuffs, he headed on downstairs.

The sight of Cosmo waiting for him, naked except for a cock ring and a lascivious grin, always got his heart pumping faster. He was used to subs waiting there with heads bowed, even kneeling on the floor, but there was something about Cosmo’s cocky attitude that really primed his lust, made him rougher than usual, which Cosmo responded to deliciously.

“Hey, boss, what took you so long?”

“Never you mind, boy. Hands behind your back.” Alasdair made quick work of the wrist cuffs and joined them with a short length of chain. When he knelt down to attach the knee cuffs, Cosmo’s legs trembled.

“What are you doing with those, boss?” His voice quivered with excitement.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Alasdair looked up the length of Cosmo’s body, noting the tempting jut of his cock and balls. After adjusting the second knee cuff, he stood, grabbed hold of Cosmo’s balls, and tugged.

“Ngh! Fuck. Fucking hurts, arsehole.” Cosmo sounded pissed off, but his eyes were almost all pupil, and a drip of precome welled at the tip of his erection.

“That’s ‘fucking hurts, boss’, I think you’ll find. On your knees. Now.”

Cosmo sank to his knees, muttering something rude under his breath, which made Alasdair smile. He twisted Cosmo’s nipples for good measure, pleased to hear the arousal now evident in Cosmo’s complaints.

“You like it rough, don’t you, boy?”

Rebellion flared in Cosmo’s eyes, and his lips drew into a hard line.

“Answer me.” Alasdair twisted those nipples again, pinching harder before releasing them to a squawk from Cosmo.

“Fucking hell!”

“Good, isn’t it?”

Cosmo glared, but when Alasdair tugged on his nipple ring, his whimper was definitely a sex noise. “Yes, for fuck’s sake. It’s good, all right? Satisfied?”

“Not yet, but I intend to be. Now, head down. I’ve got something for you to wear.”

“What is it?” Cosmo sounded intrigued.

“Wait and see. Or don’t see, as the case might be.” Alasdair pulled the hood out of his pocket, and Cosmo’s head shot up.

“No. I don’t want to.”

Alasdair hesitated for a moment, but Cosmo liked playing the protesting game, didn’t he? Still, he took it slowly, easing the hood over Cosmo’s head. The laces at the back were loose, but it was still a fairly tight fit. As he pulled it down over Cosmo’s eyes, his whole body jerked, arms straining against the cuffs.

“No! Fucking get it off me! Redredredredred—”

Alasdair yanked the hood off as fast as he could and dropped to his knees, hugging Cosmo fiercely. Cosmo’s body shook in his arms and the safe-word refrain degenerated into a sob. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s off. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Sixteen

Cosmo burrowed into Alasdair’s chest, encircled by strong arms. What had he done? He’d fucking freaked, and all because of a stupid hood. But it had been tight, and the thought of it closing over his nose and mouth had made his heart pound so hard he swore it was about to splinter his ribs.

Alasdair’s arms eased their hold on him, exposing his sweaty skin to the cool air. “Don’t leave me!”

“Honey, I’m not going anywhere. Just releasing the cuffs. Deep breaths, hon. Deep breaths.”

Cosmo tried to breathe past the ball of panic lodged in his chest, and when his arms were finally freed, he wrapped them round Alasdair’s neck and clung on. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he kept whispering in Alasdair’s ear.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. It was my fault. Now come on. Don’t make me carry you.”

In the end, Cosmo stumbled along to the den, one arm still tight around Alasdair’s neck, and when Alasdair sat down, he climbed onto his lap and rested his head back on a broad shoulder. Felt safe there.

“What happened?” Alasdair asked.

Cosmo shook his head. Fucked if he knew.

“I need you to talk to me. Do hoods have some kind of bad association for you? It’s okay. I just need to know if this is a hard limit.”

“I didn’t… I mean, I’m not sure. I just panicked. At the thought of it covering my face. Choking me.”

Alasdair’s chest heaved, and his lips found Cosmo’s forehead. “I’d never cause you any harm. You know that, don’t you?”

As warmth settled over him, Cosmo realised he did. But it didn’t change the fact he’d messed up Alasdair’s evening by freaking out for no good reason. “Sorry I ruined things.”

“Don’t be silly. You did exactly the right thing. Now, do you want to go up to bed, or shall I stick the footie on?”

“I think I want a cigarette.”
In here
, he almost added, but there was no chance of that, was there?

Alasdair huffed, and his arms fell away. “Go on, then. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Dragging himself into his clothes and outside took almost more energy than Cosmo possessed, and when he finally made it back inside, it was to find Alasdair nodding off in front of the match.