Hearts Under Fire (3 page)

It was maddening. Absolutely maddening.

Well then. Only one thing for it. If you don’t know? Ask.

“Here you go,” Clark said, putting down the folder and resting his hand on top of it. “It was nice to get to know you a little, Daniel.”

Daniel looked at the folder and then at Clark. “It was nice to talk with you as well, Clark.”

The bartender cocked a brow and snorted. “You... are quite the enigma. And since I can’t figure out what’s going on here, I’ll just speak my piece and then leave you be.” He smiled the kind smile that showed off the dimple in his right cheek. “I like you. I think you like me, and I think you’re tired. Wedding, work, shopping, I don’t know, but...” Clark shrugged.

“I have a nice cure for tired: wine, talking, and other things if you want them. Nothing else if you don’t. I’d be happy if it was tonight, but you seem to have somewhere to be. If that sounds at all appealing, I’d love your number. I can promise you I will absolutely call.” Clark’s smile widened as he waited for a reply, wondering why his heart was beating so damned hard. Granted, this speech was a little more honest than some he’d given, but still.

Daniel studied Clark’s face, and Clark swallowed hard. For some crazy reason, he wanted to apologize, though for what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Daniel shook his head, and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sure you would call, and I am flattered by your desire. However, I’m not going to give you my number. I’m not one to be wooed in that manner.”

Reaching over and brushing his fingers against Clark’s hand, Daniel pulled the black folder from under the weight of it. Clark let Daniel do it, feeling numb and confused. Daniel glanced at the bill, pulled out his wallet, and put in plenty of cash to cover with a good tip. “Thank you for the much-needed meal.”

Clark was familiar with the phenomenon of wanting things he couldn’t have, and here it was again: suitably painful, sharp, tart, and -- in this case -- surprising. This man
did
want Clark. He would put money on that.

The hell does he mean “wooed?” Yes, that’s sort of the point, but he makes it sound like a bad thing.

The shock lasted for a split second, and then the smile was back. Clark nodded his head and grabbed for the discarded towel. “Of course. Best bar food in the city.” Clark winked and played hard on the no harm, no foul line.

Daniel nodded, got off his stool, gathered his things, and walked toward the door. Clark didn’t watch Daniel leave; instead, he kept his gaze down on his hand rubbing slow circles with the towel. He went utterly still for three solid breaths, and then he grabbed Daniel’s dirty dishware and put it in the sink beneath the bar. Clearing his mind was more difficult than usual, but he helped himself by cheerfully pouring another beer for a regular.

Heather came to help Clark manage the influx of patrons, but she said nothing. Jeffrey worked the floor and refrained from even making eye contact with Clark for the rest of the night. Clark was grateful for understanding coworkers, and he felt a prickle of pride in his ability to hire such people. Unusual and occasionally troublesome, yes, they were, but they also gave Clark space when they knew he needed it. Clark didn’t think they understood
why
he needed distance; they probably thought it was something basic and simple. Daniel had rejected him, Clark didn’t get that often, and so he was moody.

In reality, however, Clark’s brain was sequencing the entire evening like a computer mapping DNA. The rejection was part of the puzzle, but not its point. Something about the man gave Clark pause, and not many people did that. Daniel was a mystery that Clark needed to solve, and he went through the actions of the Good Bartender That Could while he mulled everything over.

Glow shut down at one, and by half past the hour, Clark was sitting in his office, legs on the desk and a pen in his hand. Slowly he twirled the ballpoint over his fingers, clicking it at the end of every rotation. He gazed at nothing as he tried to figure out why he found Daniel so intriguing, why he reacted so strongly to the man’s rejection --

The words: he implied that this wasn’t how he played. Not the way to approach him. What the hell did I do wrong? Why is it bothering me so much that I did, apparently, do something wrong? This is not my first rodeo; better men have turned me down. So why does this one make me --

“Boss?” Jeffrey’s tentative voice said from the doorway, pulling Clark out of his reverie.

“Mm?” Clark replied, and he made himself look away from the wall. “You out of here, kid?”

“Yeah... but...” Jeffrey stepped over and put a piece of plain white paper with frayed edges on Clark’s desk. Smiling, Clark studied the drawing. The man was truly beautiful. Jeffrey had managed to capture the come-hither in his gaze and the tilt of his pelvis along with the large eyes and hesitant smile. It was a simple sketch -- pencil and ink -- and Clark wanted to frame the thing.

“It’s amazing,” Clark said.

“You think so?” Jeffrey asked, barely containing the eager need for praise in his voice.

“Absolutely.” To prove the point, Clark rolled his chair to the corkboard on his wall and tacked up the drawing. “Something I wouldn’t mind staring at after a hard day.”

“A hard day with blue balls thanks to Professor Germain, huh?”

Clark forced himself to turn at a normal speed to face Jeffrey. “Professor Germain?” he asked mildly.

Jeffrey chuckled and rolled his eyes and hips. “Jesus... he didn’t even give
you
his name? Guy is seriously a hardass.”

“I got ‘Daniel,’” Clark supplied.

“And that means you got more than most.” Jeffrey’s eyebrows went up and down in sympathy.

“You know him?” Clark picked up the pen and rubbed the shaft with his thumb.

“Yup,” Jeffrey said with a knowing nod. “He teaches computer stuff at NAU. I had him a couple semesters ago for a graphic design course.” Jeffrey snorted. “It, like, had nothing to do with
design
. Digital mapping of data and... bleh.” Jeffrey shuddered. “I barely made it out alive. Final project was a bitch, man.

“But anyway, everybody wanted to take the class ‘cause Germain is this genius-type and hot as hell. I swear to God, Germain’s ass brings all the boys to the damned yard. Girls, too. And nobody could peg him for anything: gay, straight, bi... whatever, you know?” Jeffrey threw his arms up, and Clark watched and listened, analyzing.

Jeffrey grinned. “Though after tonight, I think I know what team he likes to do.” He laughed. “But seriously, you were totally the victim of the classic Germain Rejection. And he was, like, kinda nice about it. He does this fantastic glacier impression. And the going theory is he’s some sort of spawn-of-Satan sadist. The man is scary, boss, just... scary. I was too chicken-shit even to talk to the guy when I needed help in his class, so power to you.” Jeffrey pointed both index fingers at Clark and then gave him a mock salute.

“I see,” Clark said.

“So, it’s nothing against you is what I’m saying,” Jeffrey said. “We all know you’re mad hot with skills, boss.” The boy grinned, and Clark smiled back, genuinely appreciative of the attempt to make him feel better.

“Thanks, Jeffrey. And thanks for the drawing, too. Now get out of here and get some sleep.”

The younger man made a scoffing sound. “I think you mean, ‘get some real work done.’ Still doing that oversized canvas thing, and it’s kicking my ass.”

“Kick it back, Jeffrey, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.” Jeffrey vanished, and Clark settled back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

Professor Daniel Germain. Does a great impression of an iceberg and has something against being seduced. Or hit on. Both? He seemed to like it just fine when he was tracing my hand.

That thought nagged at Clark’s brain, and just as he felt close to figuring something out, Heather appeared with the deposit for the night. She laid it on Clark’s desk without a word. Eying the drawing on the corkboard, she hummed, and her lower lip and jaw jutted out in appreciation.

Clark sat still with his eyes half-closed and waited for it.

“You’re doing that thing.”

Smiling despite himself, Clark played along. “Thing?”

“You know the thing.” Heather moved to stand in front of the desk with her arms crossed and hip cocked.

“Enlighten me.”

The girl snorted and tongued the silver bar through her lower lip. “You get this look on your face right before you feed me some line about needing time off and pull the, ‘But Heather you’re so
good
at running the place by yourself’ bullshit.”

“But Heather... you
are
so good at it.” Clark looked at her earnestly. The returned stare would make lions nervous.

“Fine,” Heather said with a put-upon sigh. “Run off to your other glamorous job and leave me all alone with Jeffrey.” She spoke the name like it was a rare and extremely offensive type of fungus.

“You like the kid,” Clark told her. “And the only glamour to any of my jobs is you, my love.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Heather waved one hand and headed for the door. Then paused. “And don’t you mean that the only glamour to your job is Lucian?”

“Heather,” Clark said in warning.

“Sorry,” the girl apologized, ducking her head with her back to Clark. “I just wish you’d, like... really trust me. Not just pretend-trust me.”

“Heather,” Clark said, sitting up in the creaking chair. “I do trust you. You know more than most people not directly involved about what I do. But you don’t need to know any more.”

Heather turned around. “Yeah?” she said. “You’re not just saying that so I get out of here and you do... whatever it is you do here after hours by yourself?” A bit of playful banter crept back into her voice, and her eyes sparkled. Clark caught himself wondering if she was Daniel’s type.

“I mean it,” Clark replied. “I trust you with my bar -- my livelihood -- while I go do my business with Lucian. That’s a lot, Heather.” Clark studied her, forearms on his thighs.

“...’Kay.” Heather blew out a breath. “Still doesn’t make it easier to manage Jeffrey.”

“Make Ken do it.” Clark grinned.

Heather laughed. “You just
enjoy
torturing that poor man.”

“More than you know.” Clark winked.

“Fine, fine. ‘Night, boss. Let me know the deal on hours, okay?”

“Of course. Much appreciated as always.”

Heather nodded and backed away before turning to leave. Clark breathed a sigh of relief that she was gone without pressing any harder. He was grateful that she was smart enough to press in the first place. Heather didn’t enjoy being out of the loop on anything, but she was also cautious. The caution kept her working for Clark.

Well. That and the quick wit and efficient work ethic.

Standing up, Clark grabbed the deposit bag and clicked off the light in the office. He created a mental list of phone calls to make tomorrow, and he felt guilty that Heather was only partially right. Clark was getting ready to do work involving his side career -- just not for Lucian. No. This bit of fun and games was all personal.

Mr. Germain? I want to know what makes you tick. And I meant it when I said I’m just that good. At a lot of things.

Whistling, Clark locked up the bar and headed to his car. Deposit, home, nightcap, and sleep, perchance to dream of one blue-eyed mystery.

Chapter 2

A spring breeze whirled old leaves in the office park courtyards facing the street. The moon waxed gibbous in the night sky. Tired businessmen made their way home, and couples and tourists wandered the city for a quiet evening. Daniel Germain strode the few blocks to the subway station, down the tunnels, through the tolls, and onto an empty platform. Minutes later, he caught the train out to the university.

Daniel slid into the well-lit car and found a seat. He piled his bags next to him and slumped, putting his aching head in his hands.

Thoughts of solid muscle under tight blue cotton, mismatched eyes, and quicksilver humor filled his head more than he liked. He ran through the conversation and couldn’t forget Clark’s last look of shock and disappointment. Still, given what Daniel knew about Clark, the entire encounter must have been nothing more than a come-on to warm a lonely night.

Daniel didn’t need a one-night stand. His family and friends thought that the “computer job” explained his finances. He’d never corrected them or told them about his professional domination services, but he wasn’t able to hide it, either. Back in his post-doc days, he’d needed to advertise, and word of mouth worked for finding people he could trust. He avoided public venues and built his own dungeon, since most of his clientele wanted their privacy, but a few went on to Club Break. They were the ones who’d told Daniel about Maxwell Clark, one of the four owners.

Clark was someone everyone liked. He dabbled in the toys, rooms, and delights of the Scene; however, “dabbled” was the key word. Now Daniel understood why Clark was so well liked. He was intensely personable, funny, and got under people’s defenses. Daniel could imagine that playful force of will crumbling most resistances. But something Daniel’s sources had added now made sense: Clark always kept his distance, and he never, ever played the sub.

Daniel knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t submit. He’d tried it, in order to learn how it felt, how it worked, what was needed to overwhelm another human being. As a traditional method for learning how to master others, it worked.

However, his master, at the end of their summer contract, shook his head and said, “You’re always thinking. You’re not deliberately scheming on how to get out of it; you’re just two feet behind glass, watching, weighing everything. You can’t let go, can you?”

Daniel shook his head, feeling like he’d failed.

“When you were racked, clamped, filled, gagged, and hooded, what were you thinking about?”

Looking into his master’s eyes, Daniel said honestly, “How I could do it better.”

His master’s laughter made Daniel blush, but the next words stuck in his memory. “That’s what I used to think about, boy. You’ll do fine.”

Playing on his strengths, Daniel did well. His schedule was full, and he managed to pay off his graduate school loans. He could now send three of his adopted siblings’ kids through college. He enjoyed shopping at James, his little blue Tesla, and dressing the part when he entertained his clients.

Lights flickered by as the train sped through the city, and Daniel watched them as he worked over what he knew. There were reasons why he’d walked away from Clark’s advances. He had no desire for someone who couldn’t meet his long-term needs. He’d scheduled a client for Sunday night, who would meet his immediate needs without the uncomfortable feeling of being treated like a beautiful woman seduced by a big strong man.

Grinning sardonically to himself, Daniel shook his head. That direct invitation at the end felt so typical of the love-them-and-leave-them type, so why did it still nag at him? He should write it all off as Clark just wanting to get laid, but something bothered him. That look after Daniel explained his discomfort with the wedding stuck in his head, when Clark’s tone rang true. What did he say?

“I hate thinking about a world where someone like you isn’t accepted for who you are.”

Daniel bit his lower lip. That was no line, or else it wouldn’t have been said so lightly. No play, as it would have bought Clark nothing.

For someone who saw into the depths of others so readily, it felt odd to be seen.

Daniel sighed and heard the call for his station. Forgetting Clark was going to be harder than he’d hoped. As the train pulled in, he resolved to finish the last of the paperwork for the grant application. The facts and figures would crowd everything else out, and a sea of data might rock him to sleep.

***

The room smelled of leather, steel, and sweat. The naked man strapped to the bondage table groaned in accompaniment to the creak of leather cuffs on ankles and wrists as he pulled with all his might against the steel anchors at the corners.

It all held, and when Peter stopped fighting, Daniel could see muscles trembling. For an instant, he saw Clark’s broad shoulders gleaming with sweat and shivering for him. Daniel shuddered and forced his mind to focus on his paying client.

Peter’s hard on leaked enough pre-come to leave a puddle on his stomach, and it bobbed, swollen over the cock ring wrapped about balls and cock. Daniel had put the ring on during the second dildo fuck, and he didn’t want to keep it on Peter much longer. Fitted or not, Daniel worried about blood flow.

Peter was close to where he needed to be.

Daniel chuckled and saw the hooded head turn toward his voice. He reached out, spread his palm, and stroked along Peter’s jaw to tug at the thick collar around Peter’s neck. His long-time friend and client sighed and leaned into the touch. When Daniel flicked at the nipple weights, Peter flinched and cried out through the open gag, gripping a ball in a white-knuckled fist.

Moving to the end of the table, Daniel slid one hand under Peter’s head, supporting it as he dropped the neck rest. Then he slowly let Peter’s head down to dangle. He couldn’t do this long without risking injury, but he would be quick.

Most professional dominants did not do sex, something Daniel had found out years into his “practice.” He’d needed money when he started, and knew that he could get better prices if he offered sexual release along with bondage and dominance. Daniel found it easier to continue meeting his clients’ expectations, but recently he only wanted to fulfill that portion of his work with certain clients. Peter made it easy.

Daniel freed his own stiffening cock from his leather pants, covered himself in a plain, dry condom, and fed the tip through the open gag. Peter’s tongue stroked Daniel, and he whispered, “Good boy, take it...” nudging and pushing at Peter’s tongue until it moved out of the way. That was when Daniel flipped the on switch of the vibrator in the butt plug stuffed up Peter’s ass.

Peter bucked, and Daniel shoved his cock down Peter’s throat. Daniel felt him gag once and then twice, so Daniel pulled out, to a whine and a babble of unintelligible noises.

“You want it again, Peter?” Daniel asked, eying the ball still in Peter’s grasp. The dangling head nodded, even as Peter’s hips rolled. Daniel fed his cock back into Peter’s forced-open mouth. Daniel sighed at the wet warmth and stroked slowly and shallowly. When Peter’s throat opened, he was able to push all the way in, and he held himself within Peter’s throat.

Daniel’s legs shuddered as Peter writhed around the invasion that stopped his breathing, and Daniel undid the cock ring. Peter’s tongue lashed against Daniel’s cock, and his balls drew up. He silently counted to ten as the sounds Peter was making and the bobbing of Peter’s head brought him closer and closer to his own climax. On ten, he withdrew to a whooping gasp from the bound man.

When Daniel forced his stiff cock back into Peter’s mouth, Peter came, bucking against tight restraints. The combination of breath control and vibrating butt plug against prostate never failed.

Tufts of Peter’s blond hair escaping from the hood looked gray for an instant, the same paleness as a disk of plain silver. The fantasy image made Daniel lose control, and he came before he collapsed, shuddering against the bound body. Peter suckled at Daniel while he panted, cheek pressed against Peter’s chest.

Turning off the vibrator even before he could stand up again, Daniel chuckled when Peter’s ball bounced on the floor. He stood on shaky legs so that he could lift Peter’s head and replace the support. Unbuckling the gag and hood, Daniel tossed them into the To Be Cleaned box. The condom went into the incinerator trash.

Peter’s powder-blue eyes blinked at him, and he smiled up at Daniel. Daniel leaned to kiss Peter’s chapped lip. The man’s mouth was dry, but he moaned softly into the kiss. “Good?”

Peter nodded, eyes still hazy. “Very good, Sir.”

“Then we’re done for now, boy. I’m off duty,” Daniel said, and saw Peter sigh. The words marked the end of their play and the end of their relationship as dom and sub for the night.

Daniel zipped up and went through the rest of the work, unbuckling and unlocking Peter’s bonds. The butt plug drew a wince from Peter when he pulled it out and threw it into the cleanup box. Daniel got warm, wet cloths and washed them both down.

Peter whimpered when he sat up on the table. “I’m gonna be sore for a week.”

“So it’s going to last you until our next session?” Daniel asked with a grin, as he grabbed a bottle of water, twisting off the cap.

Peter hit him on the shoulder. “Right. That’s it. Well, actually, I have a date next weekend at Break, so it should last just fine.”

“You like those public stages, hm?” Daniel asked, curious, as he handed the bottle over. Peter took a drink with a grateful sigh, and Daniel considered his client. Peter was an engineer, so the BDSM lifestyle didn’t inhibit his career. If anything, technical companies paid more for people who lived outside the box.

Peter nodded and then shivered. So Daniel climbed onto the table to pull Peter into his lap and felt the man melt against him. Daniel gathered him close, and Peter nuzzled against Daniel’s throat. This was part of Peter’s coming down, and Daniel didn’t begrudge him the contact or the time.

When Peter’s fingertips started tracing the koi tattooed along Daniel’s left side, Daniel kissed blond hair, squeezed, and gently started to free himself. Peter sighed, but he let go so Daniel could dress him. He stood up slowly while Daniel hovered to make sure he wouldn’t fall.

“I’m... I’m good, Daniel. Here’s your check.” Peter pulled a folded piece of paper from his wallet and finished the last of his water.

“Thanks, Peter.” Daniel took it and didn’t even look at it before tucking it away. “I appreciate the business.”

“I appreciate your skills,” Peter said with a sigh and a groan, as he shrugged on his jacket. “Same time next month?”

“Sure. After next month I’m out for summer break, just so you remember.”

“You lucky dog,” Peter said without rancor. “Three months off every year.”

“Three months without a paycheck every year,” Daniel said wryly. “But I do like the time off.”

“Who wouldn’t? So you’re traveling this year?”

Daniel shook his head. “I haven’t got any plans, yet. We’ll have to see how it goes.”

“Well, if you’re around, tell me. I can line up people for you. There’s a new couple that wants to learn a few basics.”

“Sure. If things open up for the summer, I’ll see what I can do.”

Peter grinned. “Always busy, aren’t you?”

Stepping in close to Daniel, Peter hugged him. Daniel caressed Peter’s chin, tipped it, and kissed Peter languorously. When he felt Peter sigh, Daniel smiled in delight.

Peter chuckled. “Someday you’re going to fall in love, and then what will we do? He’d have to share you with everyone.”

“That won’t be soon, and I’m already a little in love with all of you,” Daniel said with a shake of his head, trying to dislodge the sudden image of Clark’s smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

Peter hugged Daniel again and got out his keys. “Okay, I’ll stop worrying, then.”

Daniel saw Peter off, picked up, and locked down his dungeon. He hefted the box of equipment that needed cleaning and left, content in a job well done
.