A Dom's Decision Read online

  "Shall we go down Cutthroat Vennel?" Athol used the nickname they'd chosen for a tiny twisting alleyway between two main streets. "Ah, I well remember the times we'd dodge chicken vindaloo and drunken undergrads in there."

  Edan chuckled. "Oh, the good old days, eh? Yeah, why not, the restaurant is just three places along on the left when we get out the other end." He followed Athol and admired the way he walked. Bloody hell, I've got it bad. "Nice ass."

  Athol turned round and gave him the finger. "Like you'll get to find out," he said.

  Bugger. Edan rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Sad but true, but it works both ways, you know."

  Athol went white and Edan could have bitten his tongue out.

  "Sorry," Edan said, quietly. "Feet in mouth syndrome. You make me feel like a gauche teenager on his first date. Wondering if he's going to find out what it's all about and not really knowing what 'it' is."

  Athol shrugged. "C'est la vie. I know. We're both too sodding stubborn for our own good. Is this it?" He gestured toward a green door.

  Edan nodded and pushed the door open. "Yeah, should be easy to get a table at this time of night. No undergrads around, the tourists are all back in their hotels and the pubs haven't shouted last orders." He was right, as there was only one table occupied by an elderly couple, drinking what looked like tea.

  "Well, fuck me, you two? I thought the last lot of mushrooms must be dodgy, and I was hallucinating when I saw who walked in. Got over your snits and sorted yourselves, have you? About time." Ashok MacAulay, co-owner of Ephnash Curry House, walked between the tables and gave each of them a bear hug. "So, when's the ceremony?" He looked from one to another, and his face darkened. "Oh shit, you're still up yourselves instead of up each other, eh?" He shook his head. "What a bloody waste of hot bods and time. Ah well, I'll heat you up in other ways. Grab a table and plonk your butts."

  Edan took one look at Athol and burst out laughing at the same time as Athol.

  "That's us told," Athol spluttered as he swung out a chair from a table with no one sitting close by. "Bum on seat, Edan…Do as the man said."

  Edan obliged. "God, he always was bossy."

  "I heard that," Ashok said as he came toward them with some menus. "And I concur. So, you want to see the menu, or do you trust me? Nothing hallucigenic anywhere within sight, I promise."

  Edan glanced at Athol, who nodded his agreement. "Yes, fine, and two bottles of Singa, please."

  "I'm driving," Athol said quickly. "I'll have water."

  Edan could hardly believe how hollow his stomach felt at the words. What had he expected? "I have a spare room if you're interested. No strings." He waited as shivers crawled over his spine, and goose bumps appeared on his arms. Why did it matter so much? He'd said no strings, and he meant it, so it wasn't as if anything more would happen.

  After what seemed like an hour, Edan's nerves were stretched so far he reckoned if anyone touched him he'd screech and hit the ceiling. Athol nodded slowly.

  "Then I'll have the beer as well please, Ashok."

  ****

  To Athol, it was like stepping back in time. It might be a different restaurant, and the music wasn't Labi Sifre but Phillip Phillips. Nevertheless, he was sat opposite Edan, watching him draw circles on the tablecloth with the saltcellar, and waiting for food. Some things never changed—thank goodness. It had been hard enough to make the trip across country. More than once he'd slowed the car, ready to retrace the way he'd come, scared at what he'd find. How gutted he would have been if he couldn't see any of the Edan he remembered.

  If only it could have been under different circumstances. A fresh-faced girl of around eighteen put bottles and glasses on the table, and walked away. Athol waited until she was out of earshot and poured his beer into a glass. The days of swigging from a bottle unless absolutely necessary were long gone.

  "Cheers." He clinked his glass with Edan's. "I wish I was just here for a good evening out."

  The level glance Edan gave him made Athol wriggle on his seat. Edan was the only person who could make him feel like a rookie sub, and not the Dom he usually was. If he hadn't known it was impossible he'd have given in and said 'take me', but he knew it wasn't him. Do I? Or is that an excuse because Edan is as recalcitrant as me?

  "Then as you're not here to chat over old times, compare subs, or give in and be a switch, what are you here for, Athol?" Edan's voice was level, almost disinterested. However the tiny tic at the corner of Edan's eye showed he wasn’t as composed as he tried to project.

  Athol swallowed. His mouth was dry, and his skin crawled. There was no easy way to tell Edan what had happened. "Last night, I was doing a stint on the desk at Dommisimma. We all do, even Linsey, the boss. She reckons, rightly so, it helps us be in tune with the punters––er—clients, and see who wants what, when and why."

  Edan nodded.

  Encouraged, Athol continued. "The first Tuesday in each month, we close for private classes. People book a certain Dom for tutorials or demos or whatever. So last night, I'm sitting on reception, a good book by Doris O'Connor on my Kindle ready to be devoured, and this young girl comes in. We always have someone on the desk, in case of walk-ins or drunks mistaking us for the local nightclub or taxi rank. You'd not believe some of the questions we get asked. Anyway, now I know all the guests for the evening have arrived, signed up, in, and whatever, so I'm wary. Not to mention the fact she's got enough makeup on to keep a circus full of clowns covered for a month, and I'd bet the hair color was a bad home dye job. When I query the fake ID she gives in and says she's looking for her dad. Someone had told her to check out Dommisimma. And wait for it... Her name is Seonagh McMath."

  Edan dropped his glass. Beer splashed all over the table and his jeans, and dripped onto the floor. Athol would bet a tenner, Edan didn't even feel the dampness as it spread though his denims.

  "Your leg'll be all sticky," Athol said. "Wanna go wash it?" Or strip the kecks and let me lick it?

  "Say that again," Edan said in a hoarse voice, as Ashok rushed up with a mop and dry cloth.

  For one moment, Athol thought he'd spoken his thoughts out loud. He hadn't.

  "Oh, not the damp jeans and sticky leg stuff," Edan said, and rolled his eyes. "Fuck, that sounds bad."

  It was a sign of their worry, neither snorted at the innuendo.

  "You're not kidding, are you?" Edan's voice was hoarse.

  Athol shook his head, and took hold of Edan's wrist. The pulse jerked and sped up. It was reassuring to Athol to realize Edan was as affected by their proximity as he himself. "She, Seonagh she's called. Yeah…" Edan's breath hissed out. "Not only that, she's the spitting image of—well once you disregard panda eyes and dyed hair, she is. I kept thinking she was familiar. Then, when she told me her mum's name it was easy. She had black hair, and it threw me at first. The fact she said her dad was called Affric was the clincher. I tell you I could have thrown up, never mind spilled my beer. Someone is shit stirring, Ede, and screwing with a young girl's mind. Not only that, someone else said they thought I looked familiar but couldn't think why. Two different incidents within weeks of each other. Not for one minute do I think that letter was supposed to go to her Mum. Sina knows the score. I think whoever it is, is trying to be clever. But I thought I'd give you a heads up. Shit, I know it's my problem, but—"

  "But I was involved as well. Yeah, so what now? Do you think it's one and the same person?"

  "Nope, the woman who said she thought my face seemed familiar is from Glasgow and working down south. She sent me an email, which clarified I looked like a thirty-year-old called Colin from Tampa. She'd said she thought she recognized me. That could be coincidence. The letter was from Dundee. I've got it here, and someone knows a lot and is playing with the facts. It doesn't fit the profile of Nina anyway."

  "Nina?" Edan sounded confused. "Who's Nina?"

  "Oh, the sister of a non-Ned medic who thinks he should be a Dom and whose every pore shouts 'sub.' I think he's accept
ed what he is now, but it took a lot of threats before he did." Athol grinned. He and Donny had struck up a friendship, and Donny used Athol as a sounding block on more than one occasion.

  "Clear as mud,” Edan said.

  "Yeah, sorry. Anyway, to get back to our letter writer. He—I'd stake my reputation on it being a he— is fucking with some poor kid's mind. It's not bloody on." He took another mouthful of beer. "Another thing, some guy came up to me at an open night in Dommissima, and asked if I was from Brighton. He was a bit off, poked me in the chest. I was on my best behavior. Very good of me, I reckoned. I did ask around after we closed, but he didn't accost anyone else. I checked up on his entrance form. Oscar Templeton. Didn't ring any bells, and even with a relatively unusual name like that there were still far too many Google hits for me to track him down. And you know, on thinking it over, I'd swear I keep seeing him all over the place. I feel like I'm bugged."

  "Well if you are, he'll be in a corner jerking himself off after the last wee while," Edan said and gave a deep belly laugh. "I hope he's got a hard on like a glacier and unable to do anything to help it melt. Prick."

  "I might be wrong, but somehow this Oscar guy is involved." The more he thought about it the more Athol was convinced he was correct. "No real reason why I think it, just a gut feeling, and the fact he asked nearly every other member of staff who I was, did I have a family etcetera, etcetera. Linsey said he got more than a bit annoyed when no one would tell him anything. Then Marilyn, my PA said someone was trying to get an appointment and got mighty pissed when she said I wasn't taking on anyone new. Mind you, that was an Oliv…bollocks. Oscar, Oliver. Yeah, bet it's one and the same. Maybe I should tell her to accept him if he rings again. That apart, what the hell do we do? Damn, my lack of vocabulary is showing."

  "Eat, then think." Edan gestured to where Ashok was walking towards them with a tray piled high with dishes. "Good grief, there's enough to feed a family of four for a fortnight there."

  Athol looked and knew his jaw dropped open. How much did Ashok think they could manage? There were at least a dozen covered bowls on the tray.

  "Take away what you don't eat. It's thali, it won't stretch your waistbands too much." Ashok put his burden on the table and disappeared. Athol wondered if their tension had communicated itself to Ashok.

  "So, we eat." Athol took some of the lids off, and piled his plate high. There was no point in letting the food go cold, and he was damn hungry. The scents and aromas of good Indian food teased his taste buds and he swallowed hard. "This smells amazing. I'd forgotten how hungry I was." Once he decided he needed to find Edan and talk everything over, he'd finished his appointments for the day, cleared his desk, and driven across the country. He wondered if it had occurred to Edan how Athol knew where to find him. Athol didn't want to admit how easy it was. After their last meeting he'd kept an eye on his friend even though they hadn't communicated. Edan was too important to forget and ignore. Now he was glad he'd done so, even though at times he'd felt like a stalker.

  "Mnf and gfrmp," Edan took a gulp of water, sputtered and swallowed. "Yeah, okay, eat not speak. This is too damned good to spoil."

  Athol agreed. There would be enough time to talk, especially as he didn't have to think about driving home. And it would give him time to decide how to formulate everything he needed to say, and how to ask what he wanted to know.

  For several minutes they were both silent, until at last Athol put his cutlery down. Edan was staring at him with a peculiar look on his face. Athol thought it was almost like Edan was in pain.

  "Indigestion?"

  Edan grimaced. "Nah, just worry. Shall we bag this up and go? I feel like I'm about to be told being gay is illegal again, or sommat equally scary. You know, waiting for the axe to fall. So shall we get it bagged and do a take away?"

  Athol bit his lip. He wasn't used to other people making the decisions and he didn't much like it. However, he allowed this was Edan's neck of the woods, not his, so for now he'd go with it.

  "Why not? And you can pay." He didn't care if he sounded up his own ass. That was just how he felt. Screw it, life was a major fuck fest and he didn't think it was going to improve much soon. He felt like he was a bystander in a particularly weird play.

  "You know? I don't feel I'm me," Edan said as they left the restaurant and walked along the quiet street. The town took on a whole new persona when the University was between semesters, and in the few weeks before Christmas tourists were thin on the ground. The few students who were still in town tended to stay pretty inconspicuous. "I feel like I'm having to be someone else and it's bloody awful. Here I am with the one person I've felt was part of me for so fucking long, and I feel like we're both strangers."

  "Thank god." Athol's reply was heartfelt. "Not the stranger bit. Because I tell you, I'm in the same state. Here I am, an all out Dom, and floundering. What say you we forget all our dom-cred, ‘my balls are bigger than your balls’ stuff, and just be two mates who need to sort out a problem that may or may not affect them?"

  Edan was silent for four paces.

  "Sounds good to me."

  Athol let out his breath in a rush, and clamped his hand around Edan's shoulder. His cock hardened when Edan lifted his hand to clasp Athol's wrist and keep his arm in place. Nice…better if he was holding somewhere else, but whatever… "So where do we go? Is my car okay where it is? I used the free spaces."

  Edan began to laugh. "Put it this way: it's not a long walk from there to home. Do you have stuff in it you want to get?"

  Athol shook his head, and waved at the tiny supermarket they were approaching. "If I can nip in there to get a toothbrush, I'll filch your paste. Do you have wine?"

  Edan rolled his eyes. "Does the tide ebb and flow? Duh, yeah, I have wine."

  He didn't suggest they share brushes, much to Athol's relief. Three steps too far into intimacy, for him.

  A quick nip around the aisles and within minutes they emerged with a few carrier bags of groceries—and the toothbrush. Athol reckoned he'd borrow a t-shirt from Edan and go commando once more in the morning. It was only overnight. He'd need to get back to Glasgow the next day and begin to delve. He realized Edan hadn't actually mentioned where he lived.

  "So, where's your place then?" They were walking parallel to the coast. He might have kept tabs on Edan, but only loosely. He'd freely admit he'd been too scared at what he might find if he'd looked too hard.

  "Down here." Edan turned along a narrow side street and stopped in front of a set of old stone stairs leading to a door a good third of the way up a wall. Edan looked up at the tiny plaque on the wall. Dòchas House. He knew his Gaelic.

  "Hope House?" he asked Edan. "Why?"

  Edan shrugged in a self-deprecating way. "Well, we all need it."

  Never truer words, and it's been in mighty short supply at times. Athol followed Edan up the steps to the glossy black door, and waited whilst Edan opened it and let them both in.

  The door opened onto a landing halfway up a twisty staircase.

  "Goodness knows why." It seemed Edan still had the knack of anticipating Athol's questions. "Pirates, or smugglers, or just ornery Fifers…who knows? But at least you never need to go more than half way up or down the stairs to answer the doorbell. Come on downstairs for wine and a comfy seat." He turned and clattered down the wooden staircase and Athol followed him, interested to see what sort of home Edan had created.

  "This was a pig sty when I got it," Edan said as he opened one of the three doors that led off from the downstairs hall. "Oh, not literally, though you'd have wondered. A total shit-hole. I worked like a Trojan for three months and filled Lord knows how many skips before I could even start to renovate. It took best part of a year from start to finish. I've been in just under five years now." He walked over to a coal fire and set a match to the kindling. "Maybe not necessary, but I've a feeling it might be a late night."

  He turned and dusted his hands together. "Wine?"

  "What?" Athol st
ared at the flickering flames as they grew and filled the grate. "Oh, yeah to both."

  "Take a seat." Edan walked out.

  Athol looked around with interest before he sat on one end of a big squishy settee. The room wasn't overly large, but big enough for the sofa not to overwhelm the space. The room was all Edan, and Athol loved it. From the state of the art TV, iPod dock, and the MacBook Air, on an exquisite antique side table, to the collection of tiny frogs on the mantle, it was a room to make you feel wanted and at home.

  He stretched his legs out toward the fire. The action tightened the faded and worn denim of his jeans over his thighs and pressed the worn zipper against his quiescent cock. Just as well I don't have a hard on. Or that damn zipper would give under the strain. On either side of the teeth, the material was beginning to fray. Athol concluded he'd had that particular pair of denims for a good ten years. Why he'd worn them was anyone's guess. Because Edan likes you in almost white, show every nook and cranny kecks, that’s why. So much for kidding himself he had no feelings to bother him.

  Even those tiny non-erotic memories were enough to rouse his dick. Resigned to feeling stirred up and uncomfortable, Athol stuck his hand down the front of his jeans to move his cock out of the way of teeth marks. Not that he was averse to all sorts of said nips and bruises, just zipper-related ones.

  The door opened and he looked round.

  "Caught in the act."

  Chapter Three

  Edan swallowed as his throat closed up at the sight of Athol playing with his prick. He coughed and Athol looked up and grinned at him. An expression of wicked, evil, and I dare you flirtation showed in Athol's eyes.