Kinky Sprinkles

by L. A. Witt

  Joel avoided his eyes. “No, I think I—”

  “You might surprise yourself.” Paul wagged a condescending finger at him. “All you need is—”

  “What part of ‘no’ didn’t you catch?” Andre said, inching toward his Dom voice.

  Joel looked at him, but Andre’s gaze was locked on Paul.

  “We all saw how Rob treated him,” Andre went on, “but that doesn’t mean Rob is the reason Joel isn’t into it anymore.” He glanced at Joel. “This lifestyle isn’t for everyone. Pressuring him doesn’t make you any better than the people who tell us we’re sick.” His lips peeled back as he growled, “Back. Off.”

  Paul muttered an apology and turned to join a different conversation.

  Andre glared at the back of his head for a moment before facing Joel again. “Anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Joel said.

  “Don’t mention it.” Andre smiled, and it seemed genuine. “If this isn’t your thing, then it isn’t your thing. No shame in that.”

  “Well.” Joel shrugged. “It was kind of fun for a while. Sometimes. But it’s just not for me.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The silence threatened to get very awkward, very quickly, but God bless her, April stepped in. “So I thought I saw on the Facebook group that you were at a workshop for knot work last weekend?”

  Andre sat up, grinning like a kid. “Yeah. Just got back from Fort Lauderdale on Wednesday.”

  “Fort—” April straightened. “You mean Master King’s workshop?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I try to go every year.”

  “I would kill to go to one of those.” She leaned her elbows on the table and put her chin on her hands. “How was his shibari demo? Is it as cool in person as it is in the videos?”

  “Oh.” Andre put a hand to his chest. “Amazing. Just amazing. The videos don’t show the half of it. I can’t wait to try out some of those new techniques.”

  Joel smothered a laugh—he was surprised April hadn’t started drooling.

  “When you do,” she said, “can I please come watch?”

  “Watch?” Andre’s grin turned wicked, and now it was Joel who almost started drooling. Oblivious to the idiot across from him, Andre leaned closer to April. “I still need someone to tie up. Which begs the question—you coming to the dungeon tomorrow night?”

  Her lips parted. “Uh-huh.” It came out as a two-syllable squeak.

  Joel barely kept himself from snorting. It was a miracle April hadn’t had an orgasm right then and there. She was as subby as the day was long, and a bondage junkie, and she had as much of a crush on Andre as Joel did. Being his volunteer for a bondage scene was most of her fantasies come to life.

  She cleared her throat. “Are you serious?”

  Andre nodded. “Sure. Half the reason I came here today was to see if anybody wanted to volunteer to be tied up tomorrow night.”

  April shivered. Under the table, she pressed her thighs together. “Uh, yes, please?”

  God. Joel was done with kink, but he had to admit, he was jealous as hell right then. Forget the ropes—he wanted Andre’s hands on him.

  Then she scowled. “Except . . .” Her shoulders dropped. “Shit. Bill is traveling this week, and he won’t be back until Monday. I don’t like playing with someone new when he’s not here unless I have someone there to keep an eye on things, you know?” She put up a hand. “No offense.”

  “No, no. None taken.” He waved his hand, though his tone was tinged with disappointment. “I wouldn’t ask you to scene without someone there you know you can trust.”

  April’s eyes darted toward Joel.

  Then Andre’s did.

  Joel glanced back and forth between them. He sat up straighter. “What?”

  April tilted her head and batted her eyes. “Joel . . . sweetie . . .”

  He blinked.

  Andre cleared his throat. “Well, he doesn’t have to come down to the dungeon. I mean, if it’s not your thing . . .”

  “But you don’t mind watching, right?” she asked Joel. Her expression hardened subtly. Just enough for him to notice. They’d been friends long enough that her message came through loud and clear: If I don’t get to scene with Andre tomorrow night because of you, there will be hell to pay.

  And the penny dropped—she’d planned this. She’d been trying to drag him out of the house for weeks, but she’d really been after him for the last week or so to come to this particular munch. Because she knew Andre would be here. And everybody knew Andre would be raring to go for some bondage after he came back from a Master King workshop.

  Admittedly, Joel was impressed. It was a simple, elegant plan—bring him out of the house, get him in with the group at a munch, soften him up a little, then ask him to come watch her get tied up by the man of both their dreams.

  He glared at her. She batted her eyes again. He didn’t know which favor she was calling in this time, but God knew he owed her a few. And though the dungeon was the last place in the world he wanted to be, the thought of going strictly as a spectator and to make sure April was okay . . . He could handle that.

  Hell, what did he have to lose? Besides, Andre was pretty hot when he was doing a scene.

  “If I go,” he said, “it’s one hundred percent clear I’m just there to watch, right? To make sure she’s okay?”

  “Of course,” Andre said quickly. “And if anyone gives you shit, you let me know.”

  April nodded. “Exactly.”

  Joel shrugged. “Well, I do like to watch. So . . . sure. Why not?”

  “Yay!” April threw her arms around him and hugged him, nearly knocking him and his beer out of his chair. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  He chuckled. “Anytime.”

  He looked across the table.

  Andre was looking right back at him.

  And grinning.

  And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Joel was excited to spend an evening at the dungeon.

  “Now I see why you dragged me along today.”

  “What ever do you mean?” April glanced at Joel from the driver’s seat and flashed him a grin.

  Laughing, he rolled his eyes. “You know, you could’ve just said ‘I want you to come to the dungeon and supervise while Andre ties me up.’”

  “But you would’ve said no.”

  “Not if you told me Andre would be involved.”

  April sighed, and the humor faded slightly. “Listen, I know you. And I know you would have agreed to go, but you wouldn’t have liked it.” She shrugged. “So I thought if you came and hung out with everybody and realized they care about you and are happy to see you, you wouldn’t be so uncomfortable.”

  He studied her. “You do know me.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Manipulative bitch,” he muttered.

  She smacked his leg playfully. “Come on now. You owe me anyway.”

  “Oh yeah? So which favor are you cashing in to drag my ass to the dungeon to watch Andre play Dom on your ass?”

  April pursed her lips. “Hmm.” She tapped her long nails on the steering wheel as she slowed to a stop at a red light. “Okay, how about that time I babysat Cinnamon for a week and a half, and you didn’t tell me that by ‘French bulldog’ you meant ‘starving woodchuck’?”

  “Oh come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “I had to replace my coffee table!”

  Joel smothered a laugh. “Yes, but to be fair, the new one is much nicer than the one she ate.”

  She shot him a glare, and he put up his hands.

  “All right! All right!” He chuckled. “We’ll call it even.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She paused. “And also to be fair, I’m giving you an excuse to be in a room with a hot, sweaty, and undoubtedly hard Andre for an evening.”

  “Oh. Gee. Thanks. Because I’m sure he’ll even notice I’m there while he’s busy tying you up.”

  “Honey.” She giggled. “I don’t know how much attention you’v
e paid to Mr. Andre, but scening with someone turns that boy on something fierce.”

  “Yeah? And?”

  April groaned. “And he’s gay, Joel. He’ll tie me up, whip me till I can’t move, and then we both know he’ll be in the mood to fuck, but I’m not qualified for that position.” She glanced at him and winked. “Which is where you come in, sweet cheeks.”

  Joel gulped. The light turned green, and April pulled through the intersection as Joel’s head spun. She was right, wasn’t she? Andre didn’t always include sex in his scenes. Whenever he finished a sexless scene, though, he had an unmistakable gleam in his eye, and Joel had envied the occasional lucky bastard who happened to be loitering nearby and took Andre up on his advances.

  The occasional lucky bastard who was also hot and kinky.

  Joel’s heart sank. “You’re assuming he’d be interested in me.”

  “Um, yeah.” She glanced at him, eyebrows quirked like he’d lost his mind. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  He sighed. “Can we talk about why he would be? I think that list might be shorter.”

  “Honey. Honey.” She pushed out a breath and patted his thigh. “Regardless of what your weasel ex-boyfriend and your dented self-esteem have told you, you are very attractive.”

  He shot her a side-eye.

  She met his gaze, then looked out the windshield again. “Whatever. Just show up tomorrow and we’ll let nature take its course. ’Kay?”

  “Mm-hmm. And let’s say Andre the Horndog is into me for some reason—how long do you think that’ll last? Until his post-scene hard-on is taken care of.”

  “So what? Hook up with him. Have a good time. Remind yourself that there is life and sex after Rob. Doesn’t mean you’re gonna start dating the guy.”

  He shifted in his seat. “So just let him use me for a night?”

  “And you wouldn’t be using him too?”

  “Hmm. Hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “A booty call, baby,” she said. “You scratch my male G-spot, I’ll scratch—”

  He burst out laughing. “No, let’s not scratch that, thank you very much.”

  “You know what I mean. And come on—you’ve had one-night stands before.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Well, she had a point. He’d had more than a few one-night stands before Rob, and had recently been trying to talk himself into having more just to prove that sex was as fun as he remembered it to be. Why would it be any different with Andre? And for that matter, if he did get a night with Andre, that might pull a dent out of his self-esteem and give him a tiny glimmer of hope that he could be desirable to a portion, however small, of the male population. Andre got a post-scene orgasm. Joel got to feel like someone wanted to be naked with him. Everybody won.

  “Okay. You’ve convinced me. Let’s do this.”

  April laughed—more like cackled. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

  He just chuckled.

  Is it tomorrow night yet?

  By the time the next night rolled around, Joel was so excited he could barely stand it. Though he still wasn’t convinced he had a shot with Andre, no matter how insatiably horny the man was after a scene, he was looking forward to ogling him. And without his Dom jerking at his collar every time he stole a glance, too. Bonus.

  Since April was going to be in a bondage scene tonight, Joel drove. She’d be a wet noodle by the time it was all over, and would definitely need a lift home. When he picked her up, she was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting blouse. As she got into the car, the creak of leather gave away the corset she undoubtedly had on underneath.

  Since Bill, her Dom, was out of town, she was probably also wearing her thick leather chastity belt. It was more symbolic than anything, since it could be removed without a lot of work—it laced on the sides and had a tiny padlock in the front—but it was basically a chastity belt. Bill insisted she wear it to the dungeon whenever he was out of town. April loved gangbangs more than almost anything, and Bill—a sadist if ever there was—knew exactly how to torture her even when he wasn’t there.

  April buckled her seat belt, and as Joel pulled out of the driveway, she squirmed. They’d been friends since he’d moved here, and she had no shame around him, so he wasn’t surprised when she tugged at the crotch of her jeans like she was trying to free a wedgie. “Son of a . . .”

  Joel snickered. “He made you wear it, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled. “And you’d better not tell him I’m complaining about it.”

  “Oh yeah?” He glanced at her, narrowing his eyes. “What’s in it for me?”

  “I’ll put in a good word for you with Andre?”

  “Don’t. You. Dare.”

  It was her turn to snicker. “I think we understand each other.”

  “Damn it.”

  They both laughed, and he continued toward the highway.

  A few exits and some winding roads later, he parked across the street in the sparsely crowded lot the club shared with a nearby shopping center. The two-story building was discreet, with just enough signage outside to let people know this was an adult-themed establishment. The windows were blacked out and the entrance led to a black-painted miniature lobby. At the opposite end of the room was another door with a sign warning people that by entering, they were consenting to witnessing or hearing discussions of all things sexually explicit. A doorman—usually one of the older guys decked out in leather, which left nothing to the imagination about what went on inside—was posted outside with waivers, and he directed new people to the mandatory orientation.

  April and Joel had been coming here long enough with their respective Doms that the doorman recognized them both and waved them in without a second look.

  April pushed open the door. Right away, the familiar scents reached Joel. Leather. Metal. More leather. More metal. The place smelled like a saddle shop with a touch of fruity massage oil. For some people, that alone was a turn-on—they’d walk in, take a whiff, and immediately look like they’d just taken a hit off a bong. There might’ve been a time when it’d had that effect on Joel too. Now, it was more like going home to a dysfunctional family’s Thanksgiving. One whiff of the cooking turkey and Grandma’s secret recipe stuffing, and it was all “Why am I here?” and “Please let this be over soon” and “Keep Mom out of the whiskey.”

  Masking a shudder, he followed April inside. As they stepped into the warm, dim light of the lounge area, an all-too-familiar ball of dread set up shop behind Joel’s ribs. His hair stood on end. Though he knew it wasn’t real, he could feel Rob’s breath on his neck. Imaginary eggshells cracked under his feet, and Rob’s phantom disapproval skittered across his skin like an army of spiders. His spine prickled with dread over how the night would play out.

  Except it wouldn’t play out like that this time. Rob wasn’t here. If he dared show his face, he’d be wearing handcuffs before too long, and not in a fun way. There was something to be said for having a few attorneys and off-duty cops as lifetime dungeon members.

  Joel rolled his shoulders and exhaled. Rob wasn’t here. Nothing bad would happen tonight. He’d keep an eye on April, ogle Andre, and go home to jerk off before he slept peacefully in his own bed, in his own apartment, out from under his ex’s thumb.

  Slowly, the skin-crawling feeling subsided. The tightness in his stomach and his muscles eased. For the first time, he was in the dungeon and felt . . . well, not unsafe. It wasn’t exactly a warm embrace of love and leather, but the air wasn’t taut with Rob’s palpable menace. If anything, it felt more like one of those dysfunctional Thanksgivings where things could still go to shit, but there was a bit less tension and more breathing room because homophobic Uncle John and evangelical Aunt Rhonda weren’t coming.

  As Joel scanned the room, taking in the place without the anchor-heavy collar around his neck or the unsettling presence of Rob, he decided that coming here had been a good idea after all. Like every moment in this place was a mini exorcism. Ever since they’d split up
, he’d found himself prying Rob’s invisible fingers off him at the strangest times. When he bought the brand of bread he liked at the grocery store. When he flirted innocently with a waiter during lunch. When he didn’t feel like shaving for a couple of days, and didn’t.

  And right now, when he was here, in this place, coming and going of his own volition with no one’s collar around his neck and no one’s vise grip around his arm. His only obligation was to April, and that was only to make sure she was safe and comfortable. He wouldn’t have to suck it up and let himself be tied, humiliated, beaten raw, or bruised just to keep someone else happy—or to keep that someone from flipping out when they were alone because instead of doing a scene, Joel had made a scene. Back then, it had been easier to just grit his teeth and go through with it than deal with the fallout later.

  But that was over now. The club was still standing. Joel was within its walls. Life went on as normal here, but it was no one else’s choice if and how he decided to take part.

  He pushed out a long breath. More knots and tension eased.

  April turned to him. “Hey. You doing okay?”

  He nodded, and smiled for real. “Yeah. I’m good.” It felt good to say that and mean it. Especially in here.

  “Okay.” She gestured toward the bar at the other end of the lounge. “I think I could use some water before Andre gets here. Want to hang out in here for a bit?”

  “Sure.”

  They crossed the room and found a couple of chairs near the bar. The dungeon was an old club that had at intervals been a biker bar, a gay bar, and a gay biker bar, and had at some point been converted into a leather bar before expanding into a kinky sex club. These days, the lounge was still active, but most of the building—the upper floor, the back rooms, and the enormous basement, not to mention the shop next door—had been converted into places for people to live out their wild, kinky fantasies. This was a plush, dimly lit seating area where people could socialize, negotiate rules, and wait for the playrooms to open up.

  “You want something?” she asked. “It’s on me, since you’re here for me.”

  “Eh, just a water is good for me.”