“Bubble bath?” Archer asked.
“It foamed more than I expected.” Conrad fumbled around the bottom of the tub for the empty bottle and dropped it onto the mat.
Archer stepped farther into the room. “I’ve ordered pizza. Thirty minutes.” He pulled off his coat, yanked his sweater over his head and knelt on the bathmat. “Plenty of time to wash you. Need a hand to get clean?”
The head of Conrad’s cock bobbed out of the foam and Archer laughed. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and rubbed soap on his palms.
When he lifted Conrad’s arm from the water, Conrad scowled. “That bit’s already clean.”
“I want to make sure.” He stared into Conrad’s eyes as he slowly and carefully caressed every finger, rubbed over Conrad’s palm, circled his wrist and drifted up and down his arm.
“I do like a guy who’s thorough.” Conrad thrust his other arm in Archer’s face and he gave it the same treatment. When Archer washed and massaged his leg, Conrad slipped down until his shoulders were in the water.
“I can’t tell you how good that feels,” Conrad said with a groan.
“Try. I’m working in a vacuum here.”
“Your touch makes every cell in my body sing with delight, but at such a high pitch only Deefor can hear and he’s probably got his paws over his ears in horror.”
Archer growled. “It feels great would have worked.”
“It was almost worth being dragged halfway around the country to experience.”
“Almost?”
“I feel obliged to point out a failing in your washing skills. You’ve missed several important bits. You’d get the sack at a carwash.”
“You’re funny.” Archer swept a soapy hand over Conrad’s features, along the line of his chin, across his lips and down his nose. “You have a strong face.”
“And a weak body.”
“That’s not your fault and you’re getting stronger. You’re long and lean and I like long and lean.” He rubbed his hand over Conrad’s pecs, tweaked his nipples, then slowly slid his fingers down the center of his chest. Conrad sucked in a breath.
“You okay after last night?” Archer asked.
“What happened last night? My mind’s a blank.”
Conrad willed him to wrap his fingers around him and jerk him off. One roll of a thumb over the head of Conrad’s dick and he moaned.
“That’s the bit you missed,” Conrad said. “Just in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’m saving it for later. And so are you. Don’t touch yourself.”
“How am I supposed to get dry?”
“You ever play any games?” Archer asked.
Conrad reared up to a sitting position, water sloshed over the side of the tub and Archer sprang to his feet, his face filled with confusion.
Shit, I’m a stupid wanker. Archer didn’t know anything. It had just been a question. Conrad stood up as if he hadn’t an aching bone in his body, except for one, flung his arms around Archer and pressed his mouth against his. He felt Archer resist for a moment, his mouth a tight line, then he relaxed into Conrad’s hold and let him kiss him—and wet him.
As Conrad deepened the kiss, his senses tingled. Standing in the tub made him a couple of inches taller than Archer and somehow that changed the dynamics, made him feel in charge for a change.
“So what was that about?” Archer asked when they broke for air. “Did I use some sort of trigger word?”
“Yep. Ever.”
Archer rolled his eyes.
“Or it might have been any,” Conrad said. “Or possibly you.”
There was a bang on the outer door and Archer pulled away. “Don’t think I won’t be asking that question again.”
Conrad grabbed a towel and rubbed his hair. He stepped carefully out of the tub and dried himself before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading into the lamp-lit bedroom. Archer sat on the bed with two pizzas. The smell of melted cheese made Conrad’s stomach rumble.
“I paid the guy extra for a couple of beers. Want one?”
Conrad nodded. He sat next to Archer with his back against the heaped up pillows.
“You’re wet. Need to take your clothes off?” Conrad asked.
“You’ll be too distracted to eat.”
Conrad laughed.
“So…playing games,” Archer said.
He stopped laughing and took a huge bite of pizza. “Mmm mmmm mm.”
“Does that work in court?” Archer asked.
Conrad swallowed before he choked. “Perfect defense. Can’t talk if my mouth’s full.” He sighed. “I don’t want to sit here with a hard-on I hope you’re going to sort out and talk about what I used to do with my ex.”
Archer took a swig of beer. “Tough. I’m not doing anything unless you explain that flip out.”
Conrad thought about it.
“Nothing you tell me will be as bad as what I told you,” Archer said. “The word game tells me that. So what games?”
“There’s a room in my house. It used to have projectors. I could turn it into anything I wanted. A desert, a beach, a ship. I liked to…” Shit, it sounds childish.
“Play,” Archer said.
Conrad nodded.
“Oh shit, that’s bad, that’s really bad,” Archer said. “Jesus. I’m disgusted. You fucking pervert.”
Conrad rolled his eyes.
“I mean it. Did you dress up? Wear makeup?” He gave a mock shudder.
“Forget it,” Conrad muttered.
“Hey.” Archer caught his chin and turned his head to face him. “I’m joking. Well, not about the makeup. I might go for mascara but not lipstick. And no dresses.”
“I’m not into dresses.”
“Just sharp suits. I’d like to fuck you while you’re wearing a suit. Just pull your pants down, bend you over your desk and ram…” Archer exhaled. “That was a thought too far.” He took another bite of pizza. “What sort of scenarios?”
“What?” Conrad’s mind was in his office, his body stretched over his desk, his pants around his ankles, Archer—
“What games did you play?”
“Russian pop star objects to having a bodyguard but falls for him. British guy takes a vacation on a dude ranch in Wyoming and gets down and dirty with a cowboy. Vampire uses Grindr to find dinner and sex.” Conrad’s heart pounded. “Hitman is supposed to shoot a guy but…decides not to.”
“Did you swap roles?”
“What do you think?”
Archer shrugged. “No. I’d guess you were always the badass vampire, the master and commander, the dominant partner. Into BDSM?”
“The fringes.” Actually, sometimes a little more than that but not hard core.
“What does that mean exactly?” Archer asked. “Ropes but no whips? Clamps but no masks? Cages but no sounds?”
“You know, you’d make a good barrister.”
“Why?”
“You don’t let anything bloody go.” Conrad stared at him. “Actually, you do have qualities a barrister needs. Confidence. Fearlessness. You communicate clearly under pressure. Think on your feet. You have determination, stamina and a dominant personality. Preparation for what you do is everything. You’re a loner but you can get on with people when you have to. We have a lot in common.”
“Apart from a moral compass.”
Conrad took a swig of beer. “There is that. You’d have to rely on words and not a gun.”
“Do you like what you do?”
“Most of the time, and though it’s stressful, I miss it. I might be in court, a fifteen bundle case on the table in front of me, with the judge asking a question to which he wants an immediate answer, and if I can’t snap it back, I need to know exactly where in those thousands of pages I can find it. I have to know when to shut the fuck
up before I dig my client into an even deeper hole, and when to speak up to make sure I get the right point across. You have to be on the ball every second. I like the rush.”
“Your downtime must be important.”
“Yes, but part of it is usually tied up with worry over if and when I’ll get my next killer brief. It’s hard to relax. Barristers are high-octane, intensely driven individuals. Mal…Malachi put up with a lot for seven years. The games relaxed me but I didn’t treat him as well as I should have.”
“You used him. He was your fuck buddy, not your partner.”
Conrad nodded. “And I didn’t see it until I’d lost him. I’m selfish and self-absorbed. I always have been.”
“But you let him go.”
Conrad put down the piece of pizza he was holding as the cheese began to slide off. “I tried to force him to come back, promised to help someone for him if he did. It worked until I realized what a prick I was being. Then I let him go.”
“I can’t imagine being with someone that long. I’ve never been with anyone that long. Not even a parent.”
Oh shit. “How did you end up in care?”
“My mother was a drug addict whore. A whore because she was a drug addict, I suspect. I never knew my father. I tried to trace him but got nowhere. Maybe she’d made his name up. I was taken away from her at birth. Then given back. Then taken away again but some social worker decided she needed another chance and I was returned to her care. She overdosed. I was four years old and alone with her body for three days before anyone found me.”
“Christ.”
“They tried to trace my father and failed. I was fostered by various families who all gave up on me. Put in a children’s home, ran away and was sent to a different one. I kept running until they couldn’t find me. I lived in a squat for a while, persuaded a Russian alcoholic to teach me his language in return for booze, which I stole. Eventually I realized the more I knew, the better the chance I had in life, so I worked a night shift cleaning a library, did the job fast and read the rest of the time. Plus I snuck books out and taught myself. I never took any exams so getting jobs worth more than shit was hard. I did a whole lot of different things, some I liked better than others.”
“And relationships?”
“I already told you. I never spent the night with a guy before you. I fucked strangers in stairwells, in corridors, in toilets, occasionally in their beds. I never fucked anyone twice.”
“You haven’t fucked me twice.”
Archer laughed. “I never wanted to fuck a guy twice until now.”
“Only twice. Is that your limit?”
“I don’t know.” Archer took the pizza boxes off the bed, put them next to the TV and turned to look at him. “You know we’re doomed, right? There’s no way this can work. I’ve broken the law in the worst possible way. You are the law. I’m not some young kid to be manipulated into being what you think you want. I don’t play games. What I do is real. I’m dangerous. I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”
Or the guy I’ve been waiting for. “Sometimes when I was playing, I wished it was real.”
“Easy enough from a position of safety.”
Conrad bristled. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Still risking my career.”
Archer stood at the bottom of the bed and unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Conrad’s heart jumped.
“I wish for your sake that I didn’t want you.” Archer threw his shirt aside.
Conrad’s gaze followed Archer’s hands as he pulled off his shoes and socks.
“I get hard just imagining what I want to do to you.” Archer pushed open the button on his pants. “Get rid of that towel.”
Conrad tugged it from his hips and let it drop on the floor. “Thought it was my turn.”
“Not yet. You’re not strong enough.” The Adam’s apple shifted in Archer’s throat. “I’ll resist. Hard. You need to be able to…handle me.”
Conrad wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to do that, not using body strength. “I could try.”
“You look shattered. I don’t want you even more exhausted. I don’t want to exhaust myself fucking you.”
“Then don’t.”
“Not an option.”
Maybe the way to handle Archer was with words, but not tonight. Archer’s jeans hung low on his hips showing enough of the dip between hip and abdomen to make the breath catch in Conrad’s throat. When he looked up, he saw Archer watching him.
“Do you trust me?” Archer asked.
“Is that a trick question? Going to tell me I’m a fool if I say yes? I’ve trusted you so far, haven’t I? Hidden in that cave, jumped on and off trains, let you fuck me? But for total trust, the answer is no, I don’t. I’m a lawyer. I don’t trust anyone.”
Archer stared at him. “I want to tie your hands.” He shrugged out of his pants and shorts, his cock already erect, the head glistening with pre-come, ropey veins standing out on the length, balls hanging full and heavy beneath.
Conrad’s mouth watered. “Oh, that sort of trust.”
“Say no and I’ll stop.”
“Why do you want to tie me up?”
“Because I packed all your ties.”
Conrad laughed.
“Why did you even bring ties with you from London?” Archer asked.
“I have no idea.”
Archer pulled two from Conrad’s bag. “How about I fasten you to the bed?”
Conrad shuffled away as Archer moved toward him. “By all means try.”
Conrad did his best but it was never going to be good enough. He liked and didn’t like that Archer didn’t hold back but he was annoyed how easy Archer found it to bind his wrists and fasten them to a finial in the center of the bed head. He wriggled and twisted but he couldn’t get free.
“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Conrad snapped and yanked at the ties. “Bloody silkworms. I should have bought something that would tear.”
“I want to play a game.”
Conrad stopped moving.
“What about a blindfold?” Archer asked.
“How will you be able to see what you’re doing?” Archer’s snort of laughter made Conrad braver than he felt. “Fine. Blindfold me.”
Conrad stiffened as Archer wrapped a tie around his eyes. He’d done this to Malachi hundreds of times and yet he’d never let Malachi do it to him. He remembered Malachi asking in the early days and realized he must have resigned himself to Conrad never changing. I can change.
“Lie still,” Archer said. “I’m going to nip out and buy a whip and nipple clamps.”
Conrad chuckled.
“You think I’m joking?”
“Yeah. The shops will be shut.”
“I could gag you instead.”
Conrad tensed. “No.”
“Then don’t speak unless I tell you to. I know how difficult you find that. Try not to move, and pay attention. That’s probably beyond you as well.”
Archer stared down at Conrad, almost unable to believe he had the uptight guy tied like this. There was no way Archer would have accepted being restrained and blindfolded. Not that Conrad had had much choice. There’d never been any danger of Conrad overpowering him. But when he ran his gaze over those rounded pecs topped by small tight nipples, the almost-washboard abs of his stomach where the muscle wedges had gained definition, those sharp hipbones and the center piece of that long, thick cock, he wondered if this was the man he could submit to, could trust.
“Do something before my imagination drags me into panic,” Conrad said. “It’s revving like a drag racer at the moment.”
Archer licked his finger and trailed it down the underside of Conrad’s arm. Conrad flinched.
“Cock or finger?” Archer asked.
Conrad tilted his head. “Finger.”
He
did the same again along Conrad’s shoulder and was rewarded with a short exhale and shudder.
“Finger,” Conrad said.
He brushed his cock over Conrad’s nipple. The dark disk was already taut but puckered further.
“Cock,” Conrad said and Archer’s lips twitched.
Conrad’s cock seemed bigger, harder, stretching up over the hard planes of his abdomen, the foreskin retracted, the head dark with blood. Archer blew on it and Conrad gasped. “Christ, can your dick exhale?”
Archer grinned and ran his cock along Conrad’s lower lip.
“Er…finger,” Conrad said.
He did the same on the upper lip.
“Finger,” Conrad said again.
“Liar.”
“It didn’t feel big enough to be a cock.”
Conrad might have innocence in his voice but the quirk of his lips told Archer the truth. He licked a finger and pushed it into Conrad’s mouth, sliding it back and forth over his teeth as Conrad’s breathing turned ragged, then pulled back.
“Definitely cock,” Conrad said.
Archer wanted his cock there, enfolded in the wet warmth of that mouth before he buried it in the dark heat of Conrad’s body.
“Open wide,” Archer whispered and as Conrad did as he told him, he tugged the pillow under his shoulders so that his head fell back behind.
Archer placed his knees on either side of Conrad’s chest, tightening them against his body, the crease of his backside in contact with Conrad’s cock. He wriggled and Conrad let out a choked groan.
Archer’s heart pounded with excitement. As he rubbed his butt against Conrad’s dick, he wrapped a hand around his own cock and slid it up and down. Was this what he wanted? Could he let this man fuck him?
“You’re not quite in,” Conrad said and brought Archer back with a jolt.
He leaned forward, grabbed Conrad’s hair and jammed his cock against his lips. Conrad opened his mouth then tightened his lips around the tip and sucked. Archer groaned.
“Wider,” he ordered and pushed deeper, thrilling at the rasp of teeth and tongue before he pulled back and pushed forward again. Too rough. Too rough. But the thought of letting Conrad fuck him careened like an out-of-control bulldozer in his head. He eased back and Conrad moaned.
Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2 Page 18