Don't Read in the Closet volume one (33 page)

He’d
been jacking off thinking about us.
That thought somehow managed to wriggle
into his brain and make room for itself in spite of his panic. It came directly
from the part of his mind he’d been trying to block out ever since he saw the
other man helpless, naked and completely at his mercy.

Charlie’s eyes
were closed. Sam took full advantage of the opportunity and closed his own eyes
for a moment. As easily as that, memories burst into his head—images from all
those times he’d watched the other man leave the flat for some club, only to
come back all alone with nothing more than bruises around his wrists and some
very painful looking whip marks on his back for his trouble.

Guilt bubbled
up inside Sam. Charlie didn’t need another man getting turned on by having
power over him. He needed someone who would be kind to him, treasure him and
look after him. Charlie needed someone to make sure he never got hurt again.

“Looks like I’m
not the only one who’s turned on by me being in pain…”

“What?”
Suddenly Sam’s voice was higher than it had been since he hit puberty. He
looked up quickly enough to give himself whiplash.

Charlie had
opened his eyes again and was staring at him with a strange expression on his
face. “If you get any harder you’re going to tear a seam in your fly,” he
mentioned, almost conversationally.

Sam didn’t look
down at his own crotch. He already knew his friend was right. He held Charlie’s
gaze as if his life depended on it.

“Well?” Charlie
prompted.

“You’re hot and
you’re naked,” Sam blurted out. “I’m turned on because I want to screw you, not
because I want to whip you!”

“Then why are
you looking so guilty?” Charlie asked. “We’re both adults. You’re hardly a
virgin. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who’s embarrassed at liking
other men. If that was the only reason you were turned on, you’d have laughed
it off as nothing.”

Sam opened his
mouth. He closed his mouth. Words completely failed to happen. He moved on to
immobilising Charlie’s broken fingers, then his sprained wrist in silence,
trusting his training to take over while his brain was preoccupied with other
matters. And, the whole time, he felt the other man’s eyes on his face,
studying him, analysing him.

Eventually, he
couldn’t avoid meeting the other man’s gaze any longer.

“There’s
nothing wrong with being a sadist,” Charlie informed him, as soon as he looked
up.

“I don’t like
seeing you in pain,” Sam ground out. That much was the truth at least. As he
looked down, his gaze travelled over his friend’s naked body and the bandages
wrapped around his limbs. He didn’t want to hurt him, but damn, he’d wanted to see
him bound and helpless for so long…

Sam shook his
head at himself. Charlie was wrapped up in bandages, not leather. He was a
patient, not a submissive. Well, maybe he was a submissive, but he wasn’t
Sam’s
submissive. Because Sam didn’t want a submissive. He wasn’t into anything
like that. That was the important point to remember, and—

“Sam?”

Sam shook his
head again and started to put away his first aid kit. “You should get some
rest. I’ll fetch a blanket for you and—”

“We’ve shared a
flat for six months, and the whole of that time, you’ve been hiding in the
kinky closet.”

“What?”

Sam had never
heard Charlie speak so calmly, or himself sound so panicked. The other man
repeated the sentence word for word, in that same Zen-like tone of voice he
seemed to have acquired along with his various injuries.

“Wanting to do
something you know is wrong is one thing,” Sam snapped, as he felt the ground
start to slip away from beneath his feet. “Becoming the kind of man who
actually does it anyway, that’s something else.”

“But you—!”

“Don’t confuse
me with the kind of guys you hook up with for a quick screw in the dark corner
of some club.” Sam cut in, his words almost colliding with each other as he
rushed to get them out. It was more luck than judgement that he didn’t jam his
fingers in the first aid box when he slammed the lid down.

“What makes you
so different?” Charlie asked.

Sam frowned
down at the other man. “Maybe the fact I give a damn about you?” he suggested.
Or
the fact I’m in love with you?
Somehow, he managed to keep that particular
fact back.

Charlie raised
an eyebrow at him.

“Or maybe the
fact that if I had you tied up and completely at my mercy, I wouldn’t treat you
like a damn punch bag?” Sam suggested, pulling himself to his feet.

“What would you
do with me then?” Charlie asked.

“What?” Sam
took a step back from him, as if Charlie had suddenly morphed into a poisonous
snake that might bite at any moment.

“What would you
do with me if you had me tied up and helpless?” Charlie twisted on the sofa,
half sitting up.

Sam quickly
closed the gap between them and placed his hand on the centre of the
submissive’s chest to stop him moving about and hurting
himself
.
As easily as that, Charlie seemed to lose any inclination to get up.

“I could offer
you a few suggestions, if you like, tell you what other guys have done with
me?” Charlie offered.

“I am nothing
like the kind of men you’ve been screwing.” Sam was no longer sure who he was
trying to convince every time he said it.

“Yeah, right.
The only difference between you and them is that they have the balls to admit
that they like—”

“The difference
between me and them is that I’d rather keep that side of myself to myself, than
turn into the kind of man who’d use someone then throw him away as if he was
nothing,” Sam cut in. “I’m not going to be ashamed of walking away from that.”

Charlie tugged
irritably at his bandages. “Then why don’t you walk away from me as well?” he
snapped.

“Because a man
can’t help who he falls in love with,” Sam blurted out.

Charlie stared
up at him in silence. For once, he appeared to be completely speechless.

Sam smiled
ruefully. Pushing his hand through his hair, he tried to tell himself that he
hadn’t just made a huge mistake, but it didn’t really matter. Deep down, he
knew there was no way in hell he could have kept the truth from Charlie while
panic at the other man really being hurt raced through him.

Charlie was
silent for another few seconds. When he spoke again, Sam had no doubt he was
either going to offer platitudes because he didn’t feel the same way, or simply
tell him to grow a pair and stop being a soppy idiot.

“You pinning me
against a wall in an alleyway and screwing me senseless.”

Sam jerked his
head up. “What?”

“You asked me
what I was thinking about when I was in the shower. I was thinking about you
pinning—”

Sam reached out
and put his hand over Charlie’s mouth. He already had the image in his head, he
didn’t need to hear it described again. He didn’t take his hand back until he
saw the expression in the other man’s eyes change and become more serious.

“You know, I
think you owe me,” Charlie announced, the moment his mouth was free.

Sam raised an
eyebrow at him but he really didn’t know why he should feel surprised.
Seriousness had never been Charlie’s strongest point.

“It’s your
fault I’m in this state,” Charlie said, waving a hand at his injuries. “If you
hadn’t been pissing me off—winding me up, turning me on, then refusing to
follow through—I’d never have been so distracted in the shower. And if you
hadn’t stolen my hot water, I wouldn’t have fallen over, and—”

“I’m not
hurting you,” Sam said. He put everything he had into the statement.

“I was thinking
more along the lines of you lending me a hand actually.” He waved one injured
limb toward his hard-on. “Since it’s your fault I can’t take matters into my
own hands and all…”

Sam looked down
at his friend’s cock as if he’d never seen an erection before and had no idea
what to do with one now that he had.

At that point
Sam’s body simply took over and made the decision without consulting his brain.
His fingers curled around the other man’s cock and slowly stroked the velvety
soft skin around his shaft. Sam watched his own hand’s
movements,
eyes wide open with shock at his own daring.

He looked up as
Charlie let out a sweet little mew of pleasure. Arching his back, the other man
pushed his cock into Sam’s hand.

“No.”

Charlie looked
up and met Sam’s eyes for a moment. “No?”

“If you want my
hand, you need to just stay still and take what I give you. The idea is for you
to get off without jarring your joints any more than necessary, remember?” Sam
said; his voice surprisingly level, all things considered.

Very slowly, as
if he was putting a great deal of thought into his decision, Charlie nodded.
Taking a deep breath, he seemed to make a conscious effort to relax every
muscle in his body. His gaze darted back to meet Sam’s eyes, as if looking for
approval.

“That’s good,”
Sam said with a smile.

His friend
smiled at the praise.

Sam began to
move his hand again, slow and steady. Charlie had been hard for so long, Sam
had no doubt it would be impossible for anyone to make him last for an entire
marathon, but he was still determined to make sure that he didn’t waste his one
opportunity by letting it turn into a sprint.

Holding
Charlie’s cock snugly against his palm, Sam circled the tip of the shaft with
his thumb. Pre-cum smeared around the glans, slicking his touch, making Charlie
moan for him.

He was just
helping his friend out, offering him a hand, looking after him. In spite of the
glorious sight lying before him, Sam closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t
hurting the other man. He was only ordering him about when it was for his own
good. He wasn’t anything like the other men Charlie dated.

When Sam opened
his eyes, Charlie was just as gorgeous as ever. No, Sam corrected as he focused
more carefully on his friend—
more
gorgeous. There was an air about him
that Sam had never seen before. A kind of peace that he hadn’t believed the
usually hyperactive guy was capable of.

Sam slowed the
movements of his hand even further as he studied his flat-mate. Charlie made no
complaint, even though Sam knew his touch couldn’t be anything other than
infuriatingly frustrating right then.

Charlie’s
muscles tensed once more, but he didn’t try to push Sam’s hand out of the way
and take over himself. He just laid there, his teeth biting down hard on his
bottom lip and took what he was given.

Completely
enthralled, Sam couldn’t help but praise his friend’s compliance by speeding
his hand movements up a little. Charlie whimpered and closed his eyes.

“Open your
eyes,” Sam ordered.

Charlie’s eyes
stayed closed.

“I won’t let
you come if you don’t look at me.” Sam had no idea what deep, dark part of his
psyche the threat came from, but it was effective.

Charlie’s eyes
sprung open. The very next moment, Sam tightened his fingers around his
friend’s shaft, twisted his wrist on the upstroke and that was all he needed to
do.

Charlie arched
off the sofa as he came, hard and fast against Sam’s palm. Sam never slowed his
hand movements in the slightest. He pumped the other man through his orgasm,
draining every drop of cum out of him. Long ropes of semen fell across the
other man’s chest until he had nothing left to give.

As Charlie
slumped back against the sofa, his breaths coming in gasps, Sam could only
stare down at him in awe. He’d never seen anything so dazzling in his life. For
that matter, he’d never come so close to coming in his jeans from just jacking
another guy off.

Slowly removing
his hand from the other man’s body, Sam reached into his first aid kit and
found some wipes to clean his friend up with. That done, there was no reason
for him to linger at Charlie’s side.

“I’ll go and
get you that blanket,” he mumbled as he rose to his feet and beat a hasty
retreat.