Dried and dressed, he went back out to Carl who was on his second beer, watching TV. Gray
snagged the mostly full bottle from Carl's hand and took a drink, fending off an indignantly
flailing hand without much difficulty as Carl kept his eyes fixed on the football game the whole
time.
"Get your own, Gray."
Gray took a second, longer swig and gave the much-less-full bottle back to Carl. "Whatever you
say, dude. Here."
Carl studied what he had left to drink. "Jerk."
"You know you love me," Gray mocked, relenting enough when he got to the fridge that he
brought two bottles back with him, tucking one inside the crook of Carl's arm.
"
Now
, there's love," Carl said. "Deep, abiding love."
"God, you're easy," Gray said, flopping down on the couch with a contented sigh. "Want to stick around? Maybe order a pizza?"
"Sure." Carl dragged his eyes away from the game. "You're in a happy mood; what's up?"
"Got some good news when I went over to see Charles last night."
"When you blew me off and left me high and dry, you mean," Carl corrected him. "For that, you
Drawing Closer - 115
throw in garlic bread, okay?"
"Whatever you say." Gray kicked a cushion, feeling a grin spread across his face. "Going to ask what it is?"
"I don't know; is it safe for my innocent ears?"
Gray launched the cushion at Carl, missing because he hadn't really been trying. "You haven't
been innocent since third grade and Stephanie Vaughn's show and tell behind the monkey bars.
Yeah, it's safe. You remember that friend of Charles' from the city? His wife's running this charity
auction and wants one of my paintings to sell."
"That's good?" Carl looked doubtful. "Why is that good? You don't get paid for it, right?"
"Think big," Gray told him, feeling exasperated by Carl's lack of enthusiasm. "It means she really liked the picture Drew bought--"
"Drew? Getting chummy with him now, are you?"
"Shut up. And it means lots of publicity -- my name in the program, that kind of thing."
"I guess." Carl still didn't sound thrilled but he gave Gray a high five on his way to the bathroom.
"Way to go, big shot. Knock 'em dead."
"Yeah." Gray toasted himself with his beer bottle and snuggled down into the couch, smiling
happily. "Way to go, me."
Carl paused. "So… what are you going to send them?"
"Huh?" Gray tilted his head back to look at him. "Was that an actual attempt to show an
interest? Twice in one hour?"
"Fine. Keep it a fucking secret."
Gray rolled over so that he could see Carl's face the right way up. Carl looked closed-off, a little
hurt. "Hey. Relax, okay? I've got something in my head, but I don’t want to wreck it by talking
about it."
Carl was staring at the covered easel. "Right."
"It's not that one," Gray said mildly. "Because I know you looked."
Carl flushed. "You are so full of it, you know that?"
Drawing Closer - 116
"You have paint on your hand." Gray grimaced. "Artist's eye, Carl. You know I notice the small stuff."
"Whatever, man. So… not that one?"
"No. That's for Charles. Late -- really late -- birthday present. I just wanted to give him
something. It was a good way to burn off some energy before I start on the one for the auction.
Sort of calm me down, you know? 'Cause my head's fizzing. This one's going to be
good
."
Carl nodded slowly. "And what do you think he'll do with it?"
"What?" Gray sat up, his gaze going to the easel. He didn't need to be able to see the painting. He only had to close his eyes to do that. "Hang it on a wall? Kind of a wacky notion, I know."
"Where people can see it?"
"Maybe not," Gray allowed. Oh, yeah, Carl had seen it…He shrugged, losing interest. "Bedroom wall, then. I don't know. I give it to him and he can do what the hell he wants with it."
"Right," Carl said thoughtfully. He took his phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Gray.
"Order. And don't forget the garlic bread."
Drawing Closer - 117
"What do you think?" Gray tossed his overnight bag onto a chair -- they still weren't at the stage where Gray left much at Charles' house, not even a toothbrush, and Charles rarely stopped at
Gray's apartment -- and gave Charles a hopeful, slightly wary look.
Charles stared at what Gray had taken out of the bag and placed on the bed.
"I think you've lost your mind."
"No. I want to try it."
The crop lay in a dark, forbidding line against the comforter, an emphatic statement of intent.
Charles eyed it, knowing how it would feel in his hand, the sound it would make as it fell, as it
met skin.
"Where did you get it from?" It wasn't new; he could tell that from looking at it. The leather grip was worn shiny. "Oh, God, tell me it isn't Beatrice's!" He could see her on a horse, somehow, and the thought of using her crop on her grandson's arse was just -- no.
"Relax, it was in that secondhand store in town -- the one next to the farmer's market? I go there
looking for junk to paint sometimes when I feel like getting back to basics. I kept this, a riding
hat, all the velvet peeled off; really interesting texture, and a pair of gloves, but they're too big for me."
"Thank God. I feel much better." Gray brightened and Charles added hastily, "I'm still not using it on you."
"Why?"
Reasonable question and Gray had asked it in a calm enough voice, but Charles wasn't fooled; he
could see the resolve in Gray's eyes and he knew just how persistent Gray could get when he
wanted something.
"Because you're not ready for it."
"What, there's, like, exams? I have to pass a test?" Gray smiled, a thin, tight smile. "Sure, teacher.
Just let me sharpen my pencil."
Drawing Closer - 118
Charles took a step forward, then another, bringing him closer to Gray and the crop. "That will
do."
"No. You don't get to tell me what to do when we're not playing."
"If we used that, we wouldn't
be
playing." Charles nodded at the crop without really looking at it. "That would hurt."
"Kind of the point, right?"
"There are degrees of pain."
"Sure there are. And I want to take it up a few notches."
"What's the bloody rush?" Charles demanded, losing his patience sooner than he'd expected. "Will you tell me that?"
"I just--" Gray held up his hands, palms up, shrugging helplessly. "I want to try it, okay?"
"Not okay." Charles picked up the crop, feeling a visceral shiver as it weighed down his hand. So familiar… "I could mark you with this and you'd carry those marks for days. Weeks. If I really
wanted to, I could leave scars."
"Do you? Would you? Because I don't want that. Not scars." He sounded interested, not scared.
No, thank you, no scars today, but I'll take six of the best, if you'd be so kind.
Right. So simple in Gray's world, wasn't it?
"No." Charles closed his eyes for a second to shut out the sight of Gray's face as he watched
Charles's hand tighten around the crop; aroused, a pulse beating strongly at his throat. "No. You
know I wouldn't."
"Then I'm not seeing the problem." Frustration made Gray's voice compelling, persuasive. "I trust you, Charles. You don't have to really go for it; hell, I'll probably be begging you to stop
after a couple, anyway."
"That
would
be a first," Charles said dryly. "You asking me to stop."
"Please?" Gray got closer, his breath warm on Charles' face. "You don't know how much I want this…"
Charles held his ground. "No, I don't. So why don't you tell me?" He turned his back and walked over to the armchair by the wall. "Strip down, kneel, and then we'll see if you can convince me."
Drawing Closer - 119
"Really, Charles, that's--"
He cut off the excited, happy babble. "Be quiet, Gray. You speak when I ask you a question;
beyond that, I want your silence."
He watched Gray absorb that, his demeanor changing in a subtle rush. Hard to describe, really;
the arrogance, the argumentative confidence, all that strength got channeled into being obedient,
submissive. It fascinated Charles. Gray approached this in such an individual way. He wasn't
sure it would work in a more structured setting, or with anyone else, but it was -- mostly --
working for them, and he supposed that was all that mattered.
Gray exhaled, his face relaxed, alert, and began to take his clothes off, dropping them over the top
of his overnight bag. Sometimes, Charles made him arrange them in precise, neat folds, refusing to
accept even the smallest deviation from the way he'd taught Gray to do it, until Gray's mouth
was quivering with distress both at the delay and his failure to achieve what Charles wanted. Not
today, though; he just wanted to get this sorted out, as quickly as possible.
Gray was half-hard by the time he went to his knees, his hands behind him. It was one of
Charles' favorite positions for him; it kept Gray's shoulders well back and the muscles of his
chest taut.
Charles drew the crop through his fingers. It needed oiling; the leather was slightly dry and if it
was neglected much longer, it would begin to crack. He checked for any roughness or splits but
found none that he could use as an excuse for deeming it unsuitable. Gray swallowed audibly and
Charles smiled.
"You like seeing me play with it, don't you?"
"Yes." Depth of feeling without aggression. Lovely. And the jerk of Gray's cock made a nice
punctuation to his answer.
"How did you feel when you saw it in the shop? Tell me in detail."
Gray's eyes became unfocused, dreamy, but they stayed on Charles' face. "I wasn't expecting it.
There was this crystal vase and the sun was hitting it; too flashy, not what I wanted, and I turned
away and kicked this box. I could smell the oil and leather; it was full of all sorts of junk: brushes,
saddle soap… looked like someone had just cleared out everything they had. The crop was
sticking out of the top and I just--" His shoulders moved restlessly, his gaze dropping
momentarily.
"Look at me," Charles said quietly. "Go on."
Gray's face flushed, the color rich and hot. "I got hard. I hadn't touched it, just seen it, and I
Drawing Closer - 120
thought about you using it on me and I -- it was like -- God, Charles, I just wanted it. More than
anything." He smiled slightly, remembering. "I bought the whole box, even thought I didn't really want it, just to have something I could hold in front of me."
"When you got home, what did you do with it?" Charles already knew he was going to use the
crop on Gray. Just talking about it had brought Gray to the point where Charles really thought
he could come without more than a touch. Gray's skin was sheened with sweat, his nipples dark
and hard -- and his cock was quivering with every breath, the head of it glistening wetly. He
wasn't going to stop asking Gray questions, though; for one thing, it was turning Charles on, and
for another, it wouldn't do for Gray to get everything he asked for too easily.
"I didn't touch it for a while." Gray's voice was remote again, lost in his memories. "I emptied the box and threw most of it away. Kept the hat, because it might be something I'd want to paint,
and the gloves. The gloves… I put one on and took the crop out of the box. Put it on my bed.
Then I …"
"Yes?" Charles prompted. His arousal was never something he kept secret from Gray; he reached
down and stroked his hand over the fabric covering the demanding, insistent throb of his cock,
only controlling the hum of approval rising in his throat.
"I jerked off," Gray said, his gaze dropping to Charles' idly moving hand. "Wearing the glove.
Looking at the crop. Made it last as long as I could."
"How long was that?" Charles was willing to bet that it hadn't been--
"About ten seconds."
Charles snorted with amusement, getting an answering grin from Gray. "I'm not surprised; it
sounds like quite a build-up to those ten seconds."
"I haven't touched it with my bare hand until just now," Gray told him.
"And I believe you were supposed to stay silent until asked a direct question?"
Gray blinked, looking hurt, but had enough sense not to try and excuse himself. He gave Charles a
swift, pleading glance and then bowed his head.
"I'll deal with that later," Charles told him. "Remind me, won't you?" Gray risked a nod and Charles pursed his lips in thought, trying to decide how to make this work…. "I've got something
for you." Gray looked startled but interested and Charles leaned forward, kissing him briefly,
before standing and walking over to the built-in wardrobe on the opposite wall. After sliding the
panel back, he took out a small box and returned to the chair.
"Cuffs," he said succinctly, emptying the contents into his lap. "Ankle and wrist." He arched his
Drawing Closer - 121
eyebrows. "You can talk now; I'd like to know what you think of them."
"May I touch them?"
Charles shrugged and tossed one at him, Gray reacting quickly enough that he managed to bring
his hands around to catch it before it landed in his lap. "Wow." Gray bit his lip, his fingers exploring the cuff. "It's soft inside."
"Fleece-lined, Velcro fasteners," Charles told him. "Nice. There's a far wider range than there used to be."
"You went looking after I asked you about it?"
"Mm. I was curious, too, I suppose," Charles admitted. "And you needed some proper