Screwing the System (4 page)

“Got one of your whelps here, Chopper. I swear, they get younger all the time.” Freddie pointed at him, and Cosmo felt the eyes of every last barfly turn his way. He brazened it out and stared at Alasdair. Or, more correctly, he stared at Alasdair’s chest. He didn’t quite dare look him in the eyes just yet.

“Cosmo,” Alasdair said, moving over to stand next to him. “I see you managed to follow instructions.”

Alasdair didn’t sound too pissed off with him for being outside when he’d arrived, and Cosmo felt a large hand sweep down over his bum. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the reactions of the locals. Shit, Alasdair wasn’t going to want to kiss him in front of everyone, was he? Or worse.

“This isn’t a gay bar,” he hissed.

“Your point being?” Alasdair kept his hand resting there and squeezed his buttocks. Cosmo could feel himself getting hard, despite everyone watching.

“I don’t want to get my head kicked in next time I’m down here.”

“Nobody’s going to mess with you.” Alasdair raised his voice and looked around the pub. “If anyone so much as lays a finger on Cosmo here, they’ll wish they’d never been born.” The curious and hostile eyes alike all turned back down to their pints.

Cosmo looked up at Alasdair and saw the challenge melt out of that fierce expression as he turned in his direction. He looked so hot in the leather gear, the plain white T-shirt under his jacket only emphasising the black everywhere else. The jacket was scuffed and old looking, as were his knee-length boots. Only the leather jeans looked new, soft and supple and clinging to his arse like a second skin.

“Fancy taking a ride, boy?” Alasdair asked him in a low voice. “Come back to my place? I’ve been thinking about giving you a good seeing-to all day.”

Uncomfortable though he was being on display in the pub, there was safety in numbers. “I, uh, I don’t have a helmet.”

“I’ve got a spare.”

Cosmo bit his lip and stared into Alasdair’s eyes. They crinkled at the edges in a way that made him think he did a lot of smiling, despite the stern demeanour. He didn’t look like a psychopath out to torture him, but then again, the neighbours of serial killers always said,
“He seemed like such a nice man”
, didn’t they?

“What are you worried about?” Alasdair asked. “Has Freddie been putting the fear into you?”

Cosmo nodded, and Alasdair sighed. “What you have to understand is, I left the gang fifteen years ago, when I was around your age. When Freddie knew me, I played hard, out on the edge. But I don’t get my kicks that way anymore. I’ll look after you, I promise. I’ll give you a safe word.”

Cosmo’s doubts must have shown on his face, because Alasdair called out to Freddie, “Is your missus about?”

When Cerys came down to the bar, Alasdair gave her a huge hug, lifting her off her feet. She looked delighted to see him, which made Cosmo relax a little. They caught up for a bit while he drank the rest of his pint and tried not to eavesdrop too obviously. Eventually, Alasdair led her over to him.

“Cosmo, I want you to put Cerys’s mobile number into your phone. She’ll be expecting an all-clear call from you by midnight, or she’ll contact the police, okay?”

“Seriously? Is that necessary?”

“No, but if it makes you feel safer, I’m happy to do it. Cerys knows where I live, and there’s a whole pub full of witnesses saw you leave here with me. And look, I’d rather be on home turf, but if you prefer, we can always go to a hotel. I draw the line at pub toilets, though. I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.”

“And I don’t want the two of you getting up to no good in there, either,” Cerys butted in. “Don’t worry, Cosmo. I’d trust Alasdair with my life.”

The way Cerys smiled at him put Cosmo’s mind at ease, and he let the butterflies take over from the churning fear in his stomach.

“Okay, sounds good.”

As Cosmo tapped in Cerys’s number, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Just remember,” she said in a low voice, “you’re the one in charge. If you give him the word, it all stops.” He nodded, and she gave him a lopsided smile. “Don’t look so scared, luvvie. It’s meant to be fun. That’s why we call it playing.” She winked, and he thought about her words as he traipsed out of the pub after Alasdair.

Alasdair had a brief moment of
what the fuck do you think you’re doing
as he handed Cosmo the spare helmet. He hadn’t had anyone ride pillion since Jon, but he was determined not to compare the two men. Cosmo wasn’t all that much like Jon, anyway, despite having the same attitude. He was bulkier, for a start, and would do a better job of filling out Alasdair’s jacket.

Although it did seem a crying shame to cover up those nipples, beautifully pebbled by the cool night air so they were visible through the thin knit of Cosmo’s T-shirt.

Alasdair took a step towards Cosmo, right up close and personal, and took himself a double pinch of Cosmo’s nipples.

“Ungh,” Cosmo protested. “Shit, that hurts.” But he didn’t make any move to pull away, Alasdair noted. In fact, if anything, some of the wired tension seemed to melt out of his body.

Interesting. As was the piercing he could feel between his finger and thumb. Oh, he’d enjoy playing with that later.

“You like that, boy?” Alasdair added a little twist as he spoke.

“Umm… Can I get back to you on that?” Cosmo’s breath was audible, harsh and shallow, and Alasdair was pretty sure if he took a look down, he’d see evidence of Cosmo’s excitement, just like he had in the bar. “And isn’t this a bit public for this kind of thing?”

“What kind of thing would that be?” Alasdair didn’t ease up his grip, and he didn’t look around. Just carried on gazing down into Cosmo’s wary eyes.

“You know. Sex games.”

Alasdair almost laughed at the cute term, spoken like a true novice. But it wasn’t fair to make fun of Cosmo’s inexperience, and it probably wasn’t fair to push him too far, too soon. Especially as Cosmo had to live in this shithole of a town. Alasdair had checked his address on the job application and driven past there on his way home, wanting to find out a bit more about what he was letting himself in for. The street of crumbling 1930s’ semis had definitely seen better days, and there was a rusty, beat-up old van dying on the weedy parking space outside Cosmo’s front door. It was one of those parts of town where white faces were in the minority, and Alasdair had felt a twinge of unease seeing the large gang of Pakistani youngsters crossing the street just a little way ahead of him, most of them wearing traditional skullcaps with their gangster-style jeans and T-shirts. Radical Muslims weren’t exactly known for their progressive views on homosexuality.

Yes, he could see why Cosmo would want to keep things discreet, for his own safety.

Alasdair released his grip, pleased to hear a stifled whimper from Cosmo as the blood rushed back into his abused nips. Oh, he was going to be fun to play with. More responsive already than any of the hookups Alasdair had had in a long time. That endless parade of interchangeable young men brave enough to approach him online and request some of his particular brand of domination.

Yes, Cosmo was different. Maybe it was down to nothing more than the way they’d met, but Alasdair’s blood pounded harder in his veins than it had done in an age.

About fifteen years, give or take a few months.

But he really wasn’t going to think about Jon again. To distract himself, Alasdair shrugged off his jacket and held it out to Cosmo, who couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the ink on Alasdair’s arms. “Here, take it. You’ll be cold.”

“I’ll be huddled up to your back. I would have thought you’re more likely to need it.”

“I’ll be fine.”
But you won’t be, if you hit tarmac in that flimsy T-shirt.
He should have thought to bring another jacket along with the helmet. And some chaps too. The state of Cosmo’s jeans… Although he was sure the rips were deliberate and meant to be enticing, they were a liability on a motorbike. Alasdair should have remembered what it was like to be young, going out on chilly evenings without a jacket, fortified by a warming cocktail of alcohol and testosterone.

But Cosmo was still staring at where the tattoos peeked out from under Alasdair’s T-shirt. Alasdair had meant to carry on until they were full sleeves, but after Jon died, he hadn’t been able to see the point. “Love your ink,” Cosmo enthused. “Really colourful. Seriously, I had no idea you were hiding away such a sexy bod under that suit. Not that you didn’t look amazing in it or anything. It was just a bit corporate, if you know what I mean.”

Alasdair chose to ignore the babbling and held out the jacket again. “Come on, boy. When I tell you do something, I expect you to do it.”

“Well, if it’s an order…” Cosmo pouted in that challenging way he had, but he took the jacket and pulled it on, muttering something about control freaks.

“Ever ridden pillion before?”

“Only on a pushbike.”

“Right, well, it’s not that different in terms of balance, just a lot faster. Hang on to me, and lean with me into the corners, okay?”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Cosmo drawled, while flipping him an oh-so-insolent salute.

“Cheeky brat.”

“Yeah, you love it, though, don’t you?” Cosmo said, before fitting his helmet over his head.

Alasdair grinned through the tinted visor and swung onto the bike. As he revved the engine, he felt Cosmo’s weight settle behind him, an erection pressing into the small of his back as those strong arms tentatively crept around his waist. Yep, the lad acted cocky and confident, but he wasn’t nearly as sure of himself as he made out. Stripping away all that attitude was going to be fun. A warm and ticklish sensation fluttered through Alasdair’s insides.

This was turning out to be even more exciting than Alasdair had anticipated.

Alasdair took off up Hughenden Road, climbing the hill until they could see the lights of the whole valley laid out below them like a handful of carelessly strewn sequins. Cosmo trembled behind him, but whether that was nerves or simply the vibrations of the engine, Alasdair couldn’t say. One thing was for sure, Cosmo’s hard-on was still as insistent as ever.

He couldn’t wait to get a closer look at what the lad was packing in those obscenely ripped jeans.

When they reached Knotty Hill, Alasdair slowed the bike. It wasn’t only to give Cosmo a chance to appreciate his surroundings—material proof that Alasdair had indeed made it in the world—but he wouldn’t want to upset the neighbours. The richer you became, the less tolerant you were of other people’s noise, he’d discovered. The otherworldly hush of a village full of large, detached houses couldn’t be further from the council estate Alasdair had grown up on, with its revving engines, blaring stereos, screaming babies and yelling mothers.

And, if he was perfectly honest, he slowed the bike because he was so fucking cold without his jacket his nuts were trying to climb back inside his body. Not that he’d admit it to Cosmo. And he most definitely wasn’t going to shiver.

When Alasdair turned the bike down his road, he tried to picture the place through Cosmo’s eyes. Would he be impressed or intimidated? Or would he turn his nose up at it all as a pile of pretentious ostentation? Alasdair probably would have done so once upon a time, especially at the newer McMansions, which all seemed to ape French Chateaux but in a fraction of the grounds a house that size needed to look comfortable.

Alasdair’s place was different, though. Only five bedrooms, solid and respectably Victorian, but without too much excess decoration on show. It lurked there, but the ivy growing all over the old brickwork had obscured the worst of the architect’s extravagances and lent the place a more serious air than some of its neighbours. Alasdair pulled up right outside the front door and killed the engine before hopping down from the bike, landing on the gravel with a crunch.

“No way is this your place,” Cosmo said, removing his helmet. Alasdair was relieved to see the lad’s eyes were shining rather than disdainful. “You live here all on your own?”

Alasdair took off his helmet before nodding and giving him a half smile. “You should see the place I grew up in. I like having my space. I think I’ve earned it.”

Cosmo bit his lower lip, and Alasdair wondered if he had a guilty conscience about being a benefit scrounger. Tough. He deserved it.

Alasdair unlocked the door and stood with his hand holding it open. “Come on, boy. Inside. Now.” Alasdair smiled to himself as he observed Cosmo’s reaction to being bossed around. A flare of defiance battled with obvious arousal, and it was clear when the arousal won, as Cosmo’s shoulders slumped and he meekly trotted inside, ducking his head to clear underneath Alasdair’s outstretched arm.

Once inside, Cosmo stared around with wide eyes but didn’t make any move to say or do anything. Hmm… Surely he couldn’t be silenced that easily. It would be a shame if he buckled so soon. Alasdair took the jacket from Cosmo’s dipped shoulders. He was going to have to do something about that slouch. It was tragic, seeing one so young falling into such terrible posture.

But despite the slouching, Alasdair had to concede, Cosmo’s body was a beautiful sight. Although he still hadn’t filled out properly, there was an attractive breadth to his shoulders and an appealing amount of muscle definition on his frame. Especially his glutes. Alasdair gave them special attention as he circled Cosmo. Yes, definitely enough bulk there to absorb a flogging or a spanking. Alasdair would be able to keep going for hours if that was what Cosmo wanted.