Rattling Chains

by T. Strange

  Laughing, Charles wrapped an arm around Harlan again and pulled him tightly against his side. “If you ever call me when it isn’t an emergency.”

  Harlan blushed, burying his face against Charles’ shoulder. “Sorry.” He yawned, broadly, the emotions of the day catching up with him in a rush now that sex was off the table.

  “Bed? To sleep,” Charles quickly clarified.

  Harlan nodded, his whole body going loose and relaxed at the suggestion. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to curl up with Charles holding him tight, safe behind the double barrier of the wards and Charles’ unexplained ghost-repelling properties.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hey. Sorry I had to wake you. I’ve got to go.” Charles’ hand, large and comforting, was smoothing his hair. “And I think you were having a nightmare.”

  Harlan blinked awake with a start. He knew he’d been dreaming, but he didn’t remember any of the details. Still groggy and shaken, he felt a vicious surge of selfishness. He wanted to implore Charles to stay, tell him to fuck the club and take care of him, get him through the rest of the night.

  Charles seemed to notice his hesitation. “Sorry. I’d stay if I could.” He gave Harlan’s hand a quick squeeze before sliding out of bed with a groan. “You work tomorrow?” he asked, pulling his jeans back on. They’d both stripped to underwear and T-shirts.

  Harlan shook his head, closing his eyes to escape the glare of the lamp Charles had turned on so he could dress.

  “I won’t be done until at least six or seven, but after that I could come by and check on you. If you’d like.”

  “Six or seven in the morning?” Harlan made a face.

  “’Fraid so.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Almost ten.”

  Still disoriented, Harlan almost asked if it was morning or night, but by cocking his head he could just see the window, confirming it was dark out.

  “I’d like that. Thanks. Even if you just want to text me?”

  “Of course.” Charles finished dressing and clicked off the lamp. “Sorry… I guess you’ll have to get up to lock the door behind me.”

  If he’d had a spare cut, he would’ve given it to Charles immediately, both so he wouldn’t have to leave the bed and because he wanted, suddenly and desperately, to show Charles he trusted and cared for him—but he only had one copy.

  He followed Charles to the door and locked it behind him. He leaned against his side, listening to Charles retreat down the hall.

  Even though he was still exhausted after being woken from only a few hours’ sleep, he didn’t return to bed. He sat on the couch in the dark, staring at the TV without registering anything he saw. The coffee table was empty. Charles must have put the leftover sandwiches away, but Harlan hadn’t seen him do it.

  He felt as though he’d barely closed his eyes when the grating buzzer startled him awake again. He stumbled to the speaker, mounted on the wall by the door.

  “’Lo?”

  “It’s Charles. Sorry. I texted, but you didn’t reply, and…”

  Harlan yawned. “’S okay. I’m… I’m glad you’re here.” He blushed, a little astonished that he’d just said that out loud, even if it wasn’t to Charles’ face. He buzzed Charles in.

  Once he arrived at the suite, Charles set another take-out bag on the coffee table, even though there were still plenty of sandwiches left from the night before.

  “I, uh, brought breakfast. Not sure if you’re hungry or not. I always am after a shift.”

  Harlan wondered if he’d spent the night spanking beautiful young men, if he’d gotten off on it, if he’d thought about Harlan at all… No. He couldn’t let himself think about that.

  Charles started unpacking trays of classic breakfast foods—pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, hash browns and sausage.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, again, so I got…everything.” Charles grinned a little sheepishly.

  Now that he’d smelled food, Harlan realized he was hungry. Ravenous. He quickly loaded a plate with some of everything, grabbed a plastic fork from the bag and started eating.

  After several minutes of silence, broken only by chewing, Harlan felt like he should start a conversation, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t actually know much about Charles except his business.

  “How was work?” That was a start, anyway.

  “I’m assuming you’re not talking about refilling the napkin dispensers?” Charles smirked playfully.

  Blushing, Harlan shook his head.

  “Y’know, you seem awfully curious about the whole thing.”

  “I’m just making conversation,” Harlan insisted, crossing his legs.

  “Mm-hmm. You’ve never fantasized about being spanked?” Grinning, Charles ate a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  Harlan quickly filled his own mouth with hash browns so he could have at least a few seconds to think, aware that Charles’ attention was fully on him the whole time.

  Swallowing hard, he shook his head, then nodded.

  Charles raised an eyebrow. “Bit of a mixed message, there.”

  “Yes, all right? I’ve thought about it and watched plenty of porn along those lines, too.” Fuck. Why did I say that?

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Charles’ expression was calm and considering, as Harlan felt increasingly flustered. When it became clear that Charles didn’t intend to break the silence, Harlan finally felt compelled to speak.

  “So…?”

  Charles laughed, shaking his head. “What? You want me to put you over my knee right now?”

  Harlan fought to keep his face blank. He didn’t not want that, but at the same time, the thought was terrifying. “No? No,” he repeated, more firmly.

  “Good, because it’s not happening.” He leaned forward and patted Harlan’s thigh.

  “If I wanted… If that was going to happen, what would I need to do first?”

  “Do you want that to happen?”

  Oh God. Harlan swallowed, hard. He nodded, unable to meet Charles’ level gaze.

  “Do you want it to happen with me, or do you just want someone to spank you?”

  Even knowing he had only himself to blame for starting this conversation—or at least continuing it—Harlan was strongly tempted to run away and hide in his bedroom. “You.” He managed to force out the word.

  Charles beamed. Harlan wasn’t sure if his smile actually made the room brighter or if it just seemed that way to him. He reached over again and gave Harlan’s hand a squeeze. “Do you just want me to spank you?”

  This question was easier to answer, but Harlan still forced himself to hesitate. He shook his head.

  “Right. Well.” Charles laughed. “As…bizarre…as most of our meetings have been, I can’t say I’m not interested in you, too.”

  Harlan managed to stop the word Really? from fully emerging. Barely.

  “BDSM aside—and that’s an entirely different conversation, for another time—maybe we could start with something simpler?”

  What was simpler than spanking? That seemed pretty basic to Harlan.

  “Something like…a kiss?” Charles prompted, tracing his thumb over Harlan’s knuckles.

  “Oh!” Harlan couldn’t help laughing at himself. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  “Me too.” Charles slid off the armchair he’d been sitting on and sat on the couch beside Harlan—slowly, giving him time to move away.

  Harlan stayed perfectly still. This moment felt fragile, like he’d only get one chance, and if he reacted badly, it would be gone forever, but at the same time he felt like, just by thinking all that, he was already getting it wrong.

  “Hey.” Charles squeezed Harlan’s hand again. “Do you want to stop?”

  That, again, was an easy answer. “No!”

  Charles grinned, holding up his free hand in mock-surrender. “All right, I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t… It works better if your face is a little closer to mine.” He becko
ned, keeping his hand on Harlan’s but without pressure.

  “Right.” Harlan didn’t move for a long moment, so long that he imagined he could feel waves of disappointment coming from Charles—or maybe relief that he didn’t have to go through with this, after all? He leaned towards Charles, and their lips brushed for a brief instant before he pulled away again.

  Slowly, Charles reached up with his free hand and slid it around to cup the back of Harlan’s neck. He pulled ever so slightly, inviting but not forcing.

  That brief taste hadn’t been nearly enough, and Harlan eagerly allowed himself to be drawn in again. He closed his eyes—that made it easier, cutting out at least one source of overstimulation, leaving him free to concentrate on smell, taste and touch. Charles’ lips were slightly dry and cracked, his stubble bristling against Harlan’s chin wherever they made contact. He smelled a little bit like beer and a little bit like his dungeon, but underneath that was the scent of his sweat and his own personal fragrance. Harlan wanted to nuzzle against him like a cat, spread Charles’ scent all over himself and get his smell on Charles in return.

  He parted his lips, and after a moment, Charles leaned closer to explore his mouth with his tongue.

  Charles pulled back with a breathy sigh, relinquishing his hold on Harlan’s neck. “Do you want to keep going or is this enough?”

  Harlan opened his eyes, briefly finding it difficult to focus. “I want…” Making sure he had Charles’ attention, he pointedly dropped his gaze to Charles’ groin, pleased to see his jeans were decidedly tented.

  Charles laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that sent a shiver down Harlan’s spine. “All right. Should we…?” He cocked his head toward the bedroom.

  “Yes. Right. That might be…” Harlan frowned thoughtfully. “You do like just…sex, right? Without…?”

  “I’m not Christian Grey.” He looked askance at Harlan.

  “Who…?”

  “Never mind. Yes, I like regular, non-kinky sex.”

  “Okay, good, because you made it sound like we wouldn’t be doing anything kinky today, and if we had to stop now, I think I’d—”

  Charles cut him off with another kiss, gently tugging him to his feet and leading him to the bedroom. He started undressing even before he’d crossed the threshold. “What do you want to do?”

  “What can we do?”

  He laughed, kindly. More kindly than Harlan deserved for that question.

  “We can do anything you want. Anything we want. But I think we both want something more than kissing. I do.”

  Harlan swallowed hard. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “It’s easier without clothes,” Charles prompted, shedding the last of his. He dropped them in a pile on the floor, which Harlan found oddly…comforting. There was no pretense in the action, no one he was trying to impress. It also carried a sense of urgency, despite Harlan apparently doing everything he could to bring things to a grinding halt.

  Harlan’s body wanted this. He wanted this.

  He pulled off his plain lime-green T-shirt—no graphic or saying or even a logo, like all the rest of his shirts—and tossed it, after a moment’s hesitation, onto the floor beside Charles’ clothes. He didn’t know why he’d done it—the hamper was barely two feet farther—but now that he had, he was determined to play out his decision without hesitation. Take action, stand by action. He pulled off his socks and tossed them just as carelessly.

  Charles sat on the bed, watching Harlan undress. He was silent, but his interest was plain in his expression.

  Harlan didn’t think he was really revealing anything worthy of that interest—his pale, skinny, almost-hairless torso wouldn’t be gracing magazine covers any time soon—but he couldn’t deny that the interest excited him.

  He quickly stripped off his jeans, hesitated for a moment, then threw his underwear after them.

  He wanted to dive under the blankets and cover up. It was silly, of course. Charles had seen him naked before, if under very different circumstances. They’d showered together, for fuck’s sake!

  It wasn’t enough to get him through this moment, though. He slunk closer to the bed, to Charles, like a wild animal approaching a circle of firelight in hopes of pilfering food.

  Charles held out his hand, completing the mental image, and Harlan couldn’t help but smile. Charles smiled back, even though he couldn’t know what Harlan was grinning about, and Harlan’s tension left him. He lightly rested his hands on Charles’ shoulders, slowly sliding them down to Charles’ broad, well-formed pecs, dancing his thumbs across his erect nipples.

  Charles hummed with pleasure, his eyes half closed. “Tease.”

  “I wouldn’t want to tease you,” Harlan assured him, his tone somewhere between apologetic and playful. Inspiration struck. He dropped to his knees, gently pushing Charles’ knees apart.

  Charles groaned, leaning forward so his head was almost directly above Harlan’s. “Really?” He laughed. “Not what I was expecting you to pick first, but okay. I’m not going to say no. But I want it to be because you want it, not because you to feel like you have to…impress me or something.”

  Harlan shook his head. Well, maybe a little. He did want to impress Charles, especially during this, their first time together. But he also genuinely did like sucking cock. He’d missed it.

  He shifted to one side, then the other, subtly adjusting Charles as well, until he was content with both of their positions. He slid one hand up each of Charles’ inner thighs until they reached his groin, relishing the way Charles gasped, the bed creaking as he slid closer.

  Harlan leaned forward slowly, both to savour the moment and to tease Charles a little. He breathed on Charles’ damp cockhead, softly blowing warm air up and down his shaft until neither of them could wait any longer. He leaned forward again, decisively this time, and wrapped his lips around Charles’ tip with a deliciously lewd pop. He slid deeper until his lips rested just behind the corona. His mouth was pleasantly full and he could feel the weight of Charles’ cock pressing down on his lower jaw. It was everything he could have hoped for during his lonely nights of fevered desire. He closed his eyes, letting the experience ground him in his body, marking the boundary where he ended and Charles began. He felt movement on either side of him and opened his eyes to see that Charles had grabbed fistfuls of blanket. Harlan liked that, especially because he was just getting started.

  He rolled his head forward, taking a little of Charles’ shaft now. It was blood-hot and he could feel Charles’ galloping heartbeat in one of the thick veins pressed against his tongue. He lapped at it, enjoying the way he could get it to speed up even more with every lick.

  Greedy now, he took Charles deeper. His cock was thick enough to stretch Harlan’s jaw, but not so long that he worried about deepthroating him. The last thing he wanted was for Hamilton to ask why his voice was raspy the next time he saw him.

  “Fuck, that’s good,” Charles moaned. One of his hands left the blanket to lightly rest on top of Harlan’s head.

  Harlan liked that and showed it by pressing just a bit deeper before backing off to concentrate his lips and tongue on Charles’ cockhead again.

  “I—” Charles laughed. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t think you had much experience. Either I was way off base or you’re a natural. Beginner’s luck. Sorry, I’m babbling. Your mouth just feels so good.”

  He sounded almost giddy, and Harlan liked that too.

  He couldn’t help feeling relieved that his mouth was full and he didn’t have to confirm or deny his experience—or lack of it. He didn’t want to talk about his past, sexual or otherwise. He’d just have to let his actions speak for themselves.

  He swiftly built up a rhythm, not wanting to give Charles a chance to ask any more questions—or make observations, rather. He rocked forward and back, his hands braced on Charles’ thighs, enjoying the increasingly salty taste filling his mouth. Charles was already swaying in counterpoint to Harlan’s movements. Harlan didn’t think Charles woul
d last long, and he liked that very much. He saw it as a compliment to his cock-sucking skills. Though he did find it odd that the owner of a BDSM club would ever get this pent up. Maybe he wasn’t imagining ‘the scene’ correctly at all. Maybe that was why he was desperate enough to take up with Harlan in the first place.

  Charles shook his head, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly a few times before he managed to gasp, “Close.”

  Harlan nodded, the movement making Charles moan.

  The hand on Harlan’s head tightened, and Charles’ other hand rested on Harlan’s shoulder as he came, his hips pumping. Harlan kept his mouth loose and relaxed, letting Charles set the rhythm.

  Charles pulled back with a sigh, breathing a little heavily.

  Harlan licked his lips, then wiped them on the back of his hand, before grinning up at Charles.

  “Sorry I, uh, didn’t last… It’s been a while,” Charles admitted.

  As Harlan had suspected. That was almost certainly why Charles was with him. But why wouldn’t he be able to get someone better? More confident, more handsome, more adventurous?

  Charles patted the bed beside himself, inviting Harlan up to join him.

  Harlan eagerly scrambled up onto the mattress, sitting close beside Charles with their naked sides touching. Whatever the reason for Charles being here, Harlan was grateful as long as he had him.

  Charles leaned over and kissed Harlan’s shoulder. “What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive growl.

  “I—” Harlan shivered, goosebumps rising on his arms. “I’d like it if we just cuddled. And you could stroke me?”

  He was a little surprised by his own boldness, and relieved when Charles answered, “Of course.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Hey, Harlan!”

  Harlan was pleased and relieved to hear the genuine pleasure in Charles’ voice when he answered the phone. “Hi, Charles.”

  “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

  Harlan laughed. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. More than fine. I’m just calling because, uh…well, because it’s not an emergency.” He hoped Charles would remember saying that and he didn’t just sound as weird as he usually did.