Gabriel didn’t stir when Aled removed the collar.
He was a mess. A ridiculously beautiful, tempting mess. The collar had left a thin red line on his alabaster skin, framed by the bruises either side where Aled had bitten him. His legs were in a similar state, especially his inner thighs. Aled liked Gabriel’s inner thighs, and it showed. One wrist was a little swollen from all the twisting around he’d done on their first day, and Aled made a mental note to check it again once they were home.
He ghosted his fingers over the raised skin and squeezed.
Nothing.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered and shook Gabriel by the shoulder. “Come on, Gabe. We need to go.”
Gabriel hated that nickname. Usually it earned Aled the mother of all scowls. But this time? Nothing.
“Gabe.”
A low grumble emanated from the inert lump, and it became even more lumplike—the hand in Aled’s slid free, seized the duvet and pulled. In a heartbeat, Gabriel was buried in the rumpled remains of the bed and not an inch of skin could be seen.
“I guess age really is just a number.”
Aled wanted to leave him to it, but it was quarter to eleven and they only had fifteen minutes to check out and return the keys. And he was ready to go. Their bags were by the door, tidily packed. Every surface was clean. He’d even done the last sweep of the bathroom to check for abandoned soap or forgotten aftershave. The only thing left was to pour Gabriel into a T-shirt and jeans and stuff him in the car.
Which—from a lot of experience—Aled knew was easier said than done.
It wasn’t that difficult if Gabriel was just asleep. Turfing him out of bed for work in the morning was easy enough. But after a game? No chance. And it had been a long game.
They’d met nearly two years ago after a random hook-up on Grindr. Aled had been going through a divorce, and Gabriel had been—still was—a sex fiend. They’d figured out pretty fast that Aled’s dominant tendencies and Gabriel’s sexual fantasies lined up neatly, and had been playing on a regular basis ever since. Hence the collar.
And hence the coma, because Gabriel after a whole weekend of being used and abused could sleep like the dead.
“All right,” Aled said, turning up the bottom of the duvet. “You leave me no choice.”
He found an ankle. The minute he wrapped his fingers around it, the leg was dragged away. But Aled was used to pinning down fighting bodies and simply pitted his weight against Gabriel’s. And given Gabriel was a wiry little wretch and Aled was in his mid-thirties and growing an appropriately sized spare tyre around his gut, it was always going to go in his favour.
Dragging on the ankle produced a calf. At the other end of the calf lay the sensitive back of a knee. And above that, a thigh that Aled could seize in both hands and use like a lever. A moment later, he had an armful of squirming plaything, and he squeezed Gabriel to his chest in a bear hug before standing up and depositing that battered, naked body on the rug.
Then dark eyes were staring up at him from the vicinity of his crotch, and his brain short-circuited.
Maybe they could be a little la—
He shook himself. No. The cabin had been expensive enough. Paying for a whole extra day wasn’t on the cards.
“If you’re in that car in the next five minutes, I’ll fuck you at the border,” he offered.
“You won’t.”
Gabriel’s voice was raspy and hoarse. He’d spent the better part of seventy-two hours either screaming, begging or gagged. His lips were still flushed and swollen and the breathy quality to his words was another unhelpful aphrodisiac.
Aled raised his eyebrows and straightened his spine. That cool edge of power started to flicker around the edges of his psyche once more.
“I will.”
“You’re chafing.”
Aled winced. He was a bit raw. “Don’t need my cock to count as a fuck.”
“No deal.”
He laughed, the mood dissipating. He knew that tone.
“All right, beautiful. But we do need to go. I’ll buy you lunch at the border, how’s that?”
That was apparently more agreeable. Gabriel pushed himself up on shaky limbs and reached for the clothes Aled had laid out.
Gabriel’s twenty-sixth birthday had been at the weekend and Aled’s present had been a long, long sex game. They were both kinky, despite Aled’s bland ginger-with-glasses, chubby-thirties and job-in-marketing appearance. Aled wasn’t always entirely comfortable with his sexual preferences—who got off on rape fantasies, after all?—but Gabriel had no such room for doubts. He liked nothing more than to be dragged down fighting and fucked raw.
So that was what Aled had done. From Friday afternoon right through to Monday morning.
He’d ‘kidnapped’ Gabriel from work and driven him up to this lonely, snow-covered cabin in the Scottish Highlands. It was intended for hikers, but they’d never left. In the midst of a dark forest, miles from civilisation and buried under three and a half feet of snow, he had treated Gabriel like a sex slave—and there hadn’t been a whisper of a safeword the entire time.
Basically, he’d fucked Gabriel stupid for his birthday.
“Come on,” he coaxed, when he’d come back from putting the bags in the car and found Gabriel still shirtless. “We need to go.”
“Don’t want to go.”
Aled laughed. “You sound like a petulant kid.”
“I’m on holiday!”
“We have to check out at eleven. Tell you what,” Aled added when Gabriel scowled. “We’ll stop for a massive pub lunch at the border, and I’ll blow you in the toilets after if you’re good and don’t flirt with half the country on the way down.”
Gabriel grumbled but tilted his head back against Aled’s shoulder. Aled obediently kissed his ear.
That had been the basis of the game. They had an open relationship by mutual agreement—Gabriel regularly slept with other men, and had full-blown relationships with at least one of them. Aled had the same option in theory, but so far hadn't indulged. It worked, and worked well. But some of Aled’s favourite games were when he pretended it was a problem. So, the kidnap had been on the premise that he was sick of Gabriel’s playing away. He’d spent the weekend reminding Gabriel who he belonged to.
Supposedly. The truth was somewhere in the middle. Aled didn’t mind the playing away. He even liked it sometimes, for the way he could exploit it for their own games—and not having to do bloodplay. But—
Lately, he’d found himself getting tired of driving Gabriel home after their scenes. Of booking taxis to and from the flat and the house. Of having to make sure they left enough time at the end of an evening to go their separate ways.
Aled didn’t want to go their separate ways anymore.
But Gabriel was still a wild thing. Completely undomesticated. Aled was sure he’d baulk at the idea of living together and run a mile. So Aled hadn’t said anything. What they had was great. Why risk it for the sake of an extra cuddle in the morning? So Aled kissed Gabriel’s ear again and let go, smacking his arse to propel him towards the door. He wanted more—but it wasn’t worth risking everything over.
“Can I have my phone back?” Gabriel asked as he wriggled into a bra and T-shirt, inky black hair sticking up all over the place in an impressive bedhead.
Aled raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Excuse me?”
Gabriel paused then dropped his gaze. “Please can I have my phone back, sir?”
“Why.”
It wasn’t a question—it was a demand.
“To—to check my messages, sir—”
“Has someone been messaging you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I haven’t been messaging you. Who else could be?”
“Nobody important, sir.”
“Damn right,” Aled drawled. “And if it’s nobody important, then you don’t need to see it. Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I think I’ll keep hold of it a while longer.”
Gabriel swallowed, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Go out to the car, then. And no more arguing.”
He was too raw for another fuck, or even a blow job. But after the hint of more playing, his libido was interested again. So once he’d locked up, he turned on Gabriel at the car and shoved him up against the boot, pressing his chest into the cold glass of the rear windscreen.
“Drop ‘em and bend over.”
“Sir?”
“Now.”
Gabriel fumbled with his jeans. “Please don’t,” he said and Aled heard the veiled warning. “It’ll hurt—”
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he said calmly, drawing the toy from his coat pocket. “I’d fall asleep at the wheel. But you obviously need a bit more practice with your lessons.”
The plug was small, Aled’s concession to Gabriel’s soreness, but he pushed it in relentlessly and dry, forcing Gabriel still with a hand on his hip, until it was buried to the base. Gabriel whined, and Aled kissed his neck as he pulled the jeans back up and zipped Gabriel back in.
“Get fussy on the way home, and I’ll switch it on.”
Gabriel shuddered, and Aled backed up. He slapped his arse again, hard, and Gabriel near-yowled.
“Get in the car. Your phone’s in the glovebox. On flight mode. You keep it that way—you can play your stupid games, but you don’t put it on the network and start playing away again, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Aled turned him, fisted a hand in Gabriel’s hair and kissed him properly. He could still taste sex and salt on Gabriel’s tongue. It was a heady combination, but it was also too soon for anything more.
Aled drew off and shoved. “Go.”
Gabriel went.
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