Chapter 8

Why did I have to go and like Jacks?

If he didn’t, leaving would be simple. But nothing was simple. Trevor was going to be so fucking pissed. Going back now meant facing him. Staying meant facing a whole lot of people who already hated Danny because of what he’d apparently done to Jamie.

When Jamie’s manager was the one to screw up the whole band. And then Jamie just...took off, leaving them to try to pick up the pieces. Which Danny...couldn’t. Add to that the whole thing about Jamie coming on to Trevor. Which was between them, but he’d never known what to make of it. Trevor shouldn’t have gone to the press, but he’d been pretty freaked out.

Danny rubbed his hand over his mouth, wishing Jamie had been willing to talk to him, but also… “I didn’t do anything to him. I wasn’t the one who talked to the press. I never...I never said anything bad about him to anyone. Not even when people were saying he was involved in all the stolen money, and the drugs. I didn’t believe it.”

Holding out his hand, Jacks looked down at him. “That whole mess... I don’t even know what to think about it. He asked to come here to stay with me, then—” Making an aggravated sound, Jacks curled his lip. “That was my first run-in with Noah, the day he got back from prison. Jamie is a fucking drama magnet.”

Wrinkling his nose, Danny took Jacks’ hand, inching closer as members started milling around them, apparently no longer feeling the need to keep their distance now that Noah, Lawson, and Jared were gone. “The whole industry is like that, but Jamie was always good at handling it.” He tipped his gaze up to meet Jacks’. “I really, really want out of his clothes. I’m not...this isn’t me. It never was.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve butted in like that.” Jacks glanced toward the crush near the door. “Want another ride through the gym?”

“Yes, please.” Danny smiled up at the man. “And you don’t have to be sorry. You were trying to help. I should know Jamie and Trevor better after all this time, but I never could figure out how things get so twisted between them. They had...a weird relationship. I thought maybe, at one point, there was more between them, but Trevor said Jamie read them being close all wrong and...yeah.”

Hoisted high up on Jacks’ shoulders, legs rested on either side of his neck, Danny was taller than everyone in the room. The high, warehouse-like ceilings made it so he was in no danger of bumping his head, though Jacks did have to lean way low to get him through the door into the gym, where a couple fighters had just bumped fists and started circling each other.

“I don’t think you need to worry about Jamie and Trevor’s relationship. Seems like you’re both well rid of him. I know I am.” Weaving through the crowd, Jacks brought them across the gym. “I’ve had enough of that shit to last a lifetime. I left L.A. for a reason.”

That, Danny could definitely relate to. He curved down to hide his face in Jacks’ hair. “Me too. Broadway has its own style of drama, but you can mostly avoid it if you’re not a headliner or trying to take out one of the leads. Which I’m not. But going on tour, making music together again...”

Something he hadn’t let himself think about too much. Hell, he hadn’t been given the time. Or much of a choice with the way Trevor sprang everything on him, but no way could he air the band’s internal issues to someone he hardly knew. But he wouldn’t lie either. Trevor had made some good points about why they should do this.

He sighed, his own breath warming his face and making Jacks’ soft, thick, light brown strands tickle his cheeks. “It would’ve been nice. And I thought it would be good for all of our careers—Jamie doesn’t need us anymore though. He never really did.”

Jacks ducked them through the double doors into the bar, where the air was closer, warmer, with the scent of hard liquor and cigars all around. A couple members danced on top of a table to the bump and grind song by a new and popular band that had broken out the month before. From the looks of their collars, they were subs.

“Fuck that noise. He’d be lucky to have you. Took him long enough to make friends here. The little shit.” Sidling up to another member at the bar, Jacks hoisted Danny off his shoulders. “We’ll be right back. Get me a rum and Coke while I help Danny change in Lawson’s office?”

The muscular man with close-shaved, dark blond hair eyed Danny, then nodded to Jacks. “No problem. Not sure why all these glamorous types gotta change a hundred times a night, but you know that whole gig better than I do.”

Cutting the man a hard look, Jacks made a stop motion with his hand. “Just don’t, Shea. You don’t even want to know what His Royal Highness just put him through.”

One brow raised, Shea nodded slowly. “Hurry up, then. I hear it from someone else first and I might have to go knock some teeth in.”

Jacks’ curt nod said he might pay money to see it, but he led Danny by the hand back to the office with the green leather door and slipped inside. Sitting, he tugged Danny between his knees and began affectionately unbuttoning his shirt, brushing Danny’s hands out of the way when he tried to take over. “Let me take care of you, pet.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Danny held still, not sure how to react to this kind of attention. He liked Jacks touching him, liked the way the man spoke to him—how easy he was to talk to. This place wasn’t getting any less scary, but he could manage so long as he wasn’t alone.

He bit back a smile, ducking his head. “If you’d made me come in here by myself, I’d probably have hidden under the desk until the place was closed. Or Lawson kicked me out himself.”

Jacks smiled softly at him, stroking a finger down his nose before tapping it once. “I know. Why do you think I came in with you?”

“Oh.” Danny’s cheeks heated. “It must seem weird, I’ve dealt with bigger crowds. But...usually up on stage. With people keeping everything around in order and I knew exactly what I was supposed to do. Here it’s...very different. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever managed to make so many people hate me this fast. Or...at all.”

That brought Jacks’ scowl to the surface as he undid Danny’s borrowed skinny jeans and shoved them down his hips like he didn’t give a damn how much they cost. “Noah isn’t known for liking most people, but I swear Jamie hit him over the head and reprogrammed him.” Tapping one ankle, then the other, Jacks had him step out before he brought Danny’s own jeans to his feet, repeating the process in reverse. “And Jared and Lawson don’t hate you. I’d say there are only two people in the entire building who actually feel that way, and we’re at capacity tonight.”

Well, maybe that meant things couldn’t get much worse? Danny tongued his bottom lip, thinking over all that had gone down in the fifteen-thousand years since he’d come through those doors with Jacks. Or...

Has it only been half an hour? Not even?

“That guy in the bar definitely wasn’t a fan.” Danny was able to breathe a little easier with his hoodie back on. He didn’t have to try and fit into a role that wasn’t his anymore. He pulled his hood up and his sleeves over his hands. “Or...well, neither of them I guess. The first one, or the one you just talked to. He seems to like you though.”

Jacks frowned up at him, snugging him between the press of his knees. “Reed? He’s actually a huge Glam fan from way back. Even before Jamie arrived. He’s just protective because he knows how Noah gets—and Noah is his…” Wrinkling his nose, Jacks tilted his head like he searched for a word. “Adopted brother? Father? Guardian?” He shrugged. “Fuck if I know, but Reed’s got a bead on what’d piss the man off.”

“Guess that makes sense. I should’ve run away when he warned me then.” Danny looked at his feet. “But I really didn’t think things would go that bad.”

“And they shouldn’t have.” Jacks stood, moving them toward the door. “If Noah wasn’t a head case and Jamie wasn’t a fucking brat.”

Sticking close to Jacks’ side, Danny tried not to notice the odd looks he was getting from the other subs, who were dressed like they were on the prowl. The Doms didn’t really look at him, but all that sleek leather and well-put-together outfits made him feel just as underdressed as Trevor implied he’d be. Still, it didn’t really bother him so long as Jacks was okay with it.

And Jacks had brought him here like this. He didn’t seem to need Danny all done up, which was nice. He had plenty of subs to pick from if he was into that, but he hardly seemed to notice them. Even the sexy ones who were dancing, or the weird one sitting in the rafters above.

Back at the bar, Shea gave Danny a brief once over before meeting Jacks’ eyes. “Not what I was expecting.”

Jacks’ lips quirked. “Mhm. Danny, meet Shea, my roommate. Shea, this is Danny. And he’s nothing like Jamie.” Smile twisting into a wry grin, humor sparked in his gaze. “Or Trevor.”

“Well, I don’t know Trevor, so I have no idea if that’s a good thing or not.” Shea nudged a glass toward the empty spot at his side. “As for Jamie… He’s always seemed your type. Tiny, cute, high maintenance. This one’s definitely the first two, but who are you going to talk about fashion with now? He looks like he has more in common with mine than yours, which is… Yeah. Different.”

“Army Surplus Special—” Jacks grinned, chuckling. “—A.S.S. I’m clever. No. He’s more cuddly than you are. It makes it more deliberate and less rolled-out-of-bed-couldn’t-be-arsed than your look.”

“Stop, you’ll hurt my feelings.” Shea’s tone was dry, but the edge of his lips crept up. “That ‘effort’ what took so long or was it the catfight I’m assuming got you calling Noah’s boy a ‘Royal’ now?”

That Jacks’ friendship with Jamie had taken a hit put Danny’s mood into a nosedive. Hopefully, they could work things out, but the Dom had sounded pretty fed up. Maybe...maybe there was more behind the conflict that didn’t involve him at all? He wasn’t sure, but it was damn clear he didn’t know Jamie anymore.

Did you ever? Really?

He pictured Jamie, all of eleven, using hairbrushes as microphones, struggling to sit still when his hair was being done. His quick smiles, the way he’d add extra steps to dance moves and ask why he couldn’t wear tap dancing shoes.

Yeah, I knew him once. But not anymore.

“No. It was having to convince Noah to discipline his fucking sub after he threw attitude at me.” Sitting on the empty stool near Shea, Jacks tugged Danny up into his lap, one arm around his middle to keep him from slipping off. He took a long sip of his rum and Coke. “I’m done getting Noah’s whip hand for things that aren’t my fault. And no fucking way was his sub swearing at me for doing him a favor and then lying about it.”

“Whoa. What the fuck?” Shea’s expression darkened. “Let me get this straight. You went and got this one for Jamie and...he didn’t clear it with Noah? So now you’re the bad guy? That’s some bullshit right there.” He brought his beer to his lips and took a few swigs. “If the boy was just here to see his buddy, though, why’s he still here? Do you need to borrow some cash to send him back in a cab? Bring him and Trevor to the airport?”

Holding Danny so close their cheeks brushed, Jacks made an exasperated sound in his ear. “Et tu, Brute? What the hell? Can’t you see I collared him?”

“Oh, don’t get all up in your feelings, I’m just asking.” Shea rested his forearm on the bar and sighed. “I’m guessing Lawson cleared him, so that’s something. But if you’re playing with him for more than one night, you’re in for a rough ride, my man.”

Danny brought his knees up, cuddling against Jacks’ chest, not sure what to make of his friend. But he should probably say something. “Things won’t be rough, sir. I’ll be really good and I won’t make any trouble. Or...well, any more trouble. Jacks was really cool, giving us a place to stay and me his collar. You are too. For the place. Um...so thank you. I wish things had worked out differently, but I’m glad I’m here. I still...want to experience...stuff.”

Shea chuckled, setting down his empty beer bottle and motioning to the bartender for another. “‘Stuff’, huh? We’ll see about that. Do you want a drink? You like beer or something fancy?”

“I like beer.” Danny gazed up at Jacks. “May I have one, sir?”

“Of course...I assume you’re twenty-one?” Tugging on Danny’s hoodie strings, Jacks bussed him with a kiss that tasted sweet and a little cold, like the Coke.

Licking his lips, Danny nodded. “I’m almost twenty-three. And I have beer all the time with the cast. Tez likes to try a different kind every week. I’m not picky, so long as it’s cold.”

“Warm beer…” Jacks made a face, holding up a finger as Reed flew by on his way around the end of the bar from delivering a round. “Reed, you were right. Noah was unimpressed, but it wasn’t Danny’s fault. I’m sorry for being a dick to you.”

Reed skidded to a stop, almost slamming into Shea’s stool. He pulled something out of his pocket. A lollipop, which he tapped against his bottom lip as he studied Danny like he was some kind of puzzle. “Noah didn’t break him, so I guess it wasn’t that bad. Still trying to figure out why he dropped off the face of the earth. And…” He cocked his head. “How he and Jamie were in the same band for all those years and neither of them figured out they played for the same team. Malfunctioning gaydar much?”

The man was talking like Danny wasn’t there, which should probably bother him, but he was kinda used to it. Usually, people would talk about the band to Trevor or Jamie—back when was around—as if they were the whole thing. Danny’s job was to smile and nod and answer the one or two questions directed his way as an afterthought.

But here? Yeah, he’d be perfectly fine if no one asked him anything.

Ever.

“You know it’s a personal decision how much to reveal about your sexuality, Reed.” Stirring his drink thoughtfully, Jacks eyed the other man. “And he’s not a tabloid for you to read. Why don’t you get to know him like a person before you start judging him? He came all this way because Jamie invited him, and now he’s been snubbed, insulted, and lied to. Have a little sympathy?”

Reed scooted up next to Shea, putting his hands behind him on the bar and hoisting himself up. “Fine. What do you think of The Asylum, Danny-boy? Get in any trouble yet? Do you want to?”

“No, thank you.” Danny snickered as Shea nudged Reed back to hand him his beer, and Reed rocked out of the way with his knees to his chest. The guy seemed like he’d be fun, but if he was Jamie’s friend, Danny didn’t want to risk coming between them. He kept his answers as neutral as possible. “And I really like it here. It’s a nice place.”

Scooting them both to a more secure position, Jacks snorted. “It’s not half bad when it works out. I wouldn’t mind an instant replay of Jamie getting his ass tanned on the bar television. That was enough trouble for one night though.”

“Damn, he got his ass beaten?” Reed’s brow furrowed as he sat, cross-legged on the bar, forcing Shea to move his beer, which he didn’t seem too happy about. “What did he do?”

“Mm—” Popping the straw from between his lips, Jacks swallowed. “Swore at me. But I was happy to see him get a beat down with Lawson’s evil paddle, even if it wasn’t for lying to Noah.”

Reed made a face, then leaned back on his arms on the bar, tipping his head almost upside down as Lawson’s sub, Matt, crossed behind him. “Not sure what to make of it myself, but I know you’ll be happy to hear that.”

Balancing a tray that he swooped over the heads of the crowd as he successfully navigated the gauntlet to his spot behind the bar, Matt grunted. “I’m gonna have to burn that paddle. It has Glam cooties now.”

“I figured you’d, like, frame that ish or something.” Reed righted himself, sliding a bit closer to Jacks at Shea’s warning look. “What? I’m being nice and chatting with Jacks’ sub. You can’t be mad at me.”

Shea shook his head. “If you were my sub, boy, you’d be kept on a very tight leash. On the floor.”

Yikes. Danny sipped his beer, tugging at his hoodie. Note to self: Do not piss off this Dom.

Reed did not look the least bit concerned. “That would be boring. I’m too adorable to keep contained like that. And the floor isn’t comfortable.” He slicked his tongue around his lollipop. “And we both know that’s not at all what you’d do with me.”

Jacks snorted into his drink, tipping it to Shea with an amused look. “That right there is the God’s honest, proven truth.”

“You shouldn’t be encouraging him.” Shea relaxed back, tipping his beer to his lips, then let out a soft laugh. “How Curtis doesn’t beat your ass so the bartop isn’t the least bit comfortable is beyond me.” He gave Danny a pointed look. “Don’t try to use being cute to get away with things. If Jacks doesn’t deal with you, I will.”

“And you’re being tag-teamed already.” Reed slid Danny a sly smile. “Good luck with that. All the other subs around here are gonna be absolutely thrilled.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jacks shot Reed a look, his hand resting on Danny’s thigh perilously close to his crotch, all relaxed, like the man didn’t even notice.

Spotting someone over their heads, Reed shrugged, hopping off the bar and grabbing a cloth to wipe it down. “Nothing. You’re both just two faves and him getting all your attention will be interesting. Betcha fifty bucks he’s in the books already. Either how long he’ll last or a countdown to his first punishment—I didn’t put them there, I swear. But you know how these things go.”

Leaning over to Shea, Jacks didn’t lower his voice as he mused, “And here I would’ve bet on how long before we both coated him in our spunk. At the same time.”

Heat spilled up the back of Danny’s neck, over his cheeks, and it was very hard not to slip right off Jacks’ lap and see if Reed would let him disappear behind the bar somewhere. Jacks had been so sweet to him, he’d almost forgotten he was a man, spending his night in a sex club.

There was only one reason he’d be giving Danny this much attention.

At least most of the chicks his agent set him up with didn’t expect more than a few camera-worthy kisses. Which never did anything for him. Jacks was sexy, and his kisses felt amazing, but...he hadn’t thought much further than that. Nevermind both him and Shea.

What the hell did I let Trevor talk me into?

“Keep it up and I’m going to take that bet, my man.” Shea let out a soft laugh. “I can make sure to keep my distance and you’re doing a swell job at making sure you’d lose that one. Did you already forget he’s all sweet and new and still half in the damn closet?”

Standing, Danny in his arms, Jacks plunked him into Shea’s lap so fast the other man almost spilled his beer all over the bar. “I was trying to give him some standing, you mercurial menace. I have to take a piss. Hold onto him until I get back.”

Rolling his eyes, Shea watched Jacks go, then lifted Danny up to sit on the edge of the bar. “He’s in a mood. Not sure why he’s still hanging on to you, but don’t make him regret it. If you’re not interested, just say so.”

Lips parted, Danny stared down at the other man. “I just...I don’t… Ugh! This is the most humiliating thing ever to have been experienced by anyone. Can you go back to pretending I’m not here? Thank you.” He pulled his hood over his face as far as it could go.

Reed was making a coughing sound, a lot like he was badly trying to hold back a laugh. “If you wanted that, pal, you shouldn’t have let him put you on the bar. Curtis is on his way. Have fun.”

The sound of fingers snapping next to Danny’s ear made him jump. A man almost as handsome as Jacks, if it weren’t for his scars and a hard-as-nails look in his brown eyes, leaned over to rap his knuckles against the bar. “Ass off the bar, sub. Unless you want me to take my belt to it.”

“Double standards, I swear,” Shea muttered under his breath, picking Danny back up and lowering him to his lap.

Whether it was smart or not, Danny buried his face against Shea’s chest, grateful for the rescue. “Thank you, sir. If I tried to jump down like Reed, I’d break my everything.”

Shea rubbed his back. “You’re very strange. But I’ll try not to let you break yourself until Jacks gets back.”

Behind the bar, the man Reed had called Curtis made a couple mixed drinks, twirling the bottles he took off the shelf, using a lot of long-pour flair and juggling the shakers as he went about making several drinks. “Reed, grab the order from the kitchen and bring it to the table in the far corner.”

“On it, Daddy-O.” Reed glided across the bar, racing into the kitchen, where something metal sounded against the floor before the door even closed.

“Damn it, Reed!” Someone shouted from inside. “How many times do I have to tell you not to slide into the kitchen like that. Slow down.”

Reed popped back out, tray in hand. “Can’t, people are starving, Keir-bear. We can’t let customers starve.”

Curtis let out a heavy sigh, sliding a martini to a sub, who then lowered to all fours and crawled haltingly with it in his hand, making his way to a Dom in a chic business suit who sat at one of the high-top tables.

This place was definitely...interesting. Danny gave Shea a hesitant smile when the Dom handed him his beer, taking a few sips as he watched Curtis work, trying not to be too obvious since the man didn’t seem to like him. Not that he could blame him, he was not doing very well following the rules so far. Of which there seemed to be a few billion, applied to various degrees to all the subs.

Maybe the one crawling had stepped on a Dom’s foot and this was his punishment.

Poor guy.

Jacks stepped out of the men’s room, nearly colliding with a couple guys who’d started to get busy against the wall between the pool tables and the lav. Their hot, heavy make-out session had progressed to some kind of bump and grind and a whole lot of biting. As Jacks started to turn the other way, the door to a stairwell opened, a sandy-haired guy stumbling into him.

“Oh, hey, Jacks.” The young man smiled. “Sorry about that.”

Brushing his fingers over the guy’s hair, Jacks smiled. “No problem, Garet.”

Making his way to the bar, Jacks sat, downing the rest of his rum and Coke before he eyed Curtis, his gaze dropping to the man’s right wrist. His brows popped up and he looked over at Shea. “I’ll never get used to that.”

“Shit, I didn’t even notice.” Shea adjusted Danny against his arm. “Hey, Curtis?”

Glancing up from the Guinness he filled at one of the taps, Curtis lifted one blond brow. “Yes?”

“You were planning to take a belt to Jacks’ sub?” Shea gave him a slow smile. “Tonight? That’s something else, my man. Not sure how Jacks feels about that, but if the boy was mine, I’d be asking for an apology.”

The Guinness overflowed the glass, Curtis swearing under his breath, jerking the tap shut. “Well, he’s no longer sitting on my bar, so I guess we won’t have to worry about it.”

“Like I said, double standards. So much fun.” Shea patted Danny’s thigh. “I’d put you back up there again for my own amusement, but I know you won’t want to be there, since our buddy Curtis here already embarrassed you once. Not sure why in the world either of us would think sitting on the bar is okay.”

Curtis slid the ale onto a coaster, facing Shea. “You want me to suck your dick that badly, Shea, all you had to do was say so.”

“No, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Shea rested his forearm on the bar. “I’m sure Danny would accept the words. Unless all the core members are above apologizing. Jamie certainly seems to think so. I’m curious if you share that belief.”

Oh God, can someone please shoot me? That would be much easier to deal with.

Danny grabbed his hoodie, not sure it would cover any more of him, but he had to try. “That’s okay, I really don’t need anything. Except maybe another beer? And a shot...a shot of whiskey maybe? Please, sir, Curtis, Mr. Bartender?”

The sound of a beer bottle smashing as Curtis hit the top too hard against the bottle topper on the side of the bar brought a few heads around. Throwing it into the bin, he grabbed another and took the top off successfully this time, sliding it to Danny along with a shot of top-shelf whiskey. Leaning his forearms on the bar, muscles bulging under his white Henley, the man gave him a long, hard stare.

“Cut the crap, Curtis.” Jacks leaned in, his own forearms on the bar. “Or I swear to God, I will put you in your place.”

Curtis’s stare swung to Jacks, his expression unchanging. “Yes, sir.”

Grabbing his shot glass, Danny tossed back the whiskey. Then got started on his beer. This was like the most tense L.A. party on steroids. No way was he going to survive the rest of the night sober. Hell, had he only been here an hour?

Longest. Night. Ever.

Taking out his phone, Jacks sent a text and sat back. “Get me a beer, boy.”

Something truly not nice slithered through Curtis’s gaze, but he leaned down, reaching for a beer, and knocked the top off, plunking it down on the bar in front of Jacks. “Anything else, sir? Perhaps you didn’t clean your ass crack well enough today and I could lick it for you?”

Jacks licked his lips before taking a long sip of his beer, throat working, then muttering, “I swear to fucking God, I’m getting a refund.”

“Curtis. With me.” Lawson’s sharp tone had Danny forgetting where he was sitting.

As he tried to slide down a bit on the chair, he almost slipped right off Shea’s lap, onto the floor. The only thing that saved him was Shea’s arm, tightening and tugging him back into place.

Apparently, Lawson was very, very pissed. He snapped his fingers. “Reed, take over behind the bar. Matt, go ask Rhodey where Avery is so he can help you on the floor.”

Skipping his gaze to Curtis, then Danny, Matt seemed to work overtime to come up with some way to blame him for whatever had just gone down but came up empty. Scowling, the sub shoved his way past a few members toward the gym while Curtis strode out from behind the bar, jaw working like he chewed glass.

Lawson motioned Curtis toward the office, calling back to Reed before he followed. “Their tab is on me. Get them whatever they want—and watch your fucking manners, because if I have to come out here again it will not end well for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Reed rounded the bar, shoulders stiff as he opened a ledger, jotting down a few messy notes, then stuffing a receipt in before slamming it shut. He plastered on a stiff smile. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Jacks let out a stream of air between his lips. “You know I had to get him, Reed. It’d be worse if he pissed someone else off who doesn’t know better. You get that, right?”

Reed fisted his hand on top of the ledger. “All I know right now is things have been hella tense since he got here.” He lifted his hands as though not ready to judge either way. “Not a good start, but hey, maybe it’s got nothing to do with him. I sure hope not, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I didn’t threaten to take a belt to you and you almost knocked over my drink. Twice.” Shea lifted his beer as though to emphasize his point. “So you tell me this has a damn thing to do with Danny. Explain it to me slowly. I’ll wait.”

Reed’s cheeks went red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...I was just teasing him. I didn’t think Curtis would get that mad. He’s just...having a rough night.” He reached into his pocket, holding out a lollipop. “Here, these always make me feel better. Little tip? Don’t sit on the bar when the core members are around. Unless you forget. Or it’s Dallas. You’ll like him, he’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m good not ever sitting on the bar.” Danny took the lollipop. “But thank you.”

Jacks stared toward the office door. “I’d pay good money to see what the hell is going on in there. Did Lawson get a degree in talk therapy when I wasn’t looking?”

Reed gave him a funny look, moving across the bar to serve someone else. “It’s Lawson.”

Which means...what exactly?

Danny unwrapped the lollipop, sticking it in his mouth and trying to imagine how much worse the night would be if Lawson was mad at him too. All right, maybe Reed’s answer made sense after all.

“True. Law’s always pretty good at talking people down.” Tipping his beer to his lips, Jacks took a long drink.

“Have you seen that man with a whip?” Shea’s lips curved slightly with admiration. “Pretty sure he’s got plenty to back up that ‘talk’. And his boy’s well behaved when he’s not ready to throw down. Doesn’t happen often anymore.”

Jacks made a pfft sound over his beer. “There’s not enough room in that office for a whip. And Curtis is mostly a Dom. That’s not their relationship anyway.”

“Fine, spoil all my fantasies.” Shea shook his head, bringing his attention back to his beer. “Asshole.”

Snickering, Danny ducked his head at Shea’s dry look. Then tried to sip his beer, forgetting about the lollipop, and nearly choking on both. He yanked out the lollipop, coughing into his sleeve. “If I don’t get a beating by the end of the night, I’m going to end up with some strange Final Destination type accidental death.”

Jacks’ chuckle made him turn his head in his temporary Dom’s direction, but before he could ask what was so funny, he found himself tugged out of Shea’s lap and face down over Jacks’. “Wouldn’t want that to happen. Beating it is.”

“But…” Danny brought his hands over his face and groaned. “I didn’t do anything! Or say anything. You were definitely imagining things.”

Hand caressing Danny’s upturned ass, Jacks made a thoughtful sound. “Remind me, Shea. Do I need an excuse to spank this gorgeous piece of tail?”

Shea let out a soft laugh. “No, but if you did, he just gave you a few good ones.”

“Mmm. I think you’re right.” Snaking a hand under Danny’s belly, Jacks unsnapped his jeans and worked them over his hips. Cool air hit his ass, making him squirm as Jacks snagged his dangling wrist and pinned it at the small of his back. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

I really am not.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. “The rules say you have to tell me why I’m being punished. But I’m not allowed to safeword out of a punishment. Can we discuss that part? Is this going to hurt a lot?”

Making a soothing sound, Jacks continued caressing his cheeks, running his fingertips closer and closer to his crack until that light touch delved between. The first smack was a soft upward brush of fingertips that lifted his right ass cheek. The second impacted his left. Strokes coming faster, but not harder, Jacks built up a nice, bright heat. Warm, not painful, almost pleasurable, continuing for long minutes that seemed to last hours.

Danny inhaled roughly, trying to adjust himself as the heat centered lower and it became impossible to hide his body’s interest, even as his mind tried to make sense of it. Jacks’ thigh was firm against him, and the smacks barely registered as his dick ground into the pressure against it. His cheeks flamed as he thought of everyone around the bar, watching him getting spanked.

Would be much worse if they saw how much it’s getting you off, DiMarco.

Why the hell couldn’t he control his reactions? Maybe he needed to think of something else. Like almost falling on stage in heels that first time he’d tried to dance in them. Or the banana one of his roommates had left between the couch cushions. Or forgetting the lyrics to a song he’d written with Jamie while playing on TV for a live audience.

Yeah, his dick was not ready to go off anymore, but it was still hard.

He found himself unexpectedly moving, set on Shea’s lap, legs splayed over the man’s thighs so his ass slung a little lower. Placing each of Danny’s hands at the back of Shea’s neck, Jacks whispered, “Hold on tight.”

Warmth, pressure, wetness, slipped over his dick as Jacks took Danny to the back of his throat in one long push that had Danny’s hips thrusting in involuntary interest.

He hissed in a breath, clinging to Shea, biting back a cry as Shea laughed softly in his ear, stroking Jacks’ hair. “You’re such a fucking slut, Jacks. I love it.”

Jacks made an affirmative sound, deep in the back of his throat, that vibrated against Danny’s dick, all the way to his toes, which curled inside his sneakers. Adjusting his angle and position, Jacks smoothed a hand down his own crotch, redoubling his efforts to drive Danny completely out of his mind.

White flashed across Danny’s vision and his whole body jerked as Shea covered his mouth with his hand, nipping the side of his neck. He came hard, trembling, trying to get a grasp on reality, finding it completely out of reach. His gasp was ridiculously loud when Shea moved his hand, every part of him tingling, like Jacks had sent an electric shock right through him.

Amazing and terrifying and all too much to process. He closed his eyes, everything hot and cold all at once, the world swaying a bit like he was sitting on a boat that had barely made it through an intense storm, still rocking on the waves beyond.

Someone did up his pants. Smoothed his hair back from his face. Then tipped water to his lips.

“Drink, my good boy.” Jacks’ voice came to him as if from down a tunnel.

Danny took a few gulps, spilling a bit over his chin, enough awareness coming back to him to let Shea go so he could wipe the droplets away with his sleeve. “I think it’s okay that I don’t know why I was in trouble.”

“Oh, you’re in trouble all right.” Shea adjusted him on his lap, definitely not unaffected by the whole thing. “Especially if you think that’s the kind of ‘punishment’ you get if you’re actually bad.”

Sipping his beer, Jacks eyed him, grinning. “Naughty subs get a different kind of spanking.”

Shea’s lips brushed Danny’s ear. “Don’t let him scare you, though. He likes naughty subs.”

Yeah, that clarifies absolutely nothing.

That kind of spanking? Danny could definitely deal with.

But a belt? Or the paddling that Jamie got?

Unless…

“Is that why subs aren’t absolutely perfect all the time? Because it feels…” Danny bit his bottom lip hard. Okay, he wasn’t ready to be that open about the whole experience. Or trying to make it fit in his brain. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t know. “Nevermind.”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Hands on either side of Shea’s shoulders, Jacks hemmed Danny in. “Every punishment, if delivered by a loving and skilled Dom, has its upside. Whether it’s making the sub feel secure and seen, or that tight fist of control. All of it can be good.”

“For the Dom too?” Danny lifted his gaze to Jacks’, wishing he knew what he could do for him in return and coming up blank. At this point, he wasn’t absolutely certain he’d ever be able to stand, since his legs had gone liquid, but he was sorta okay with that. “Is it...good for you?”

Grasping Danny’s wrist, Jacks pressed the flat of his palm to the hard ridge behind his zipper. “What do you think?”

Inhaling roughly, Danny nodded. “Yes...sir.”

Jacks’ grin broadened. “Very good boy.”

Leaning forward, Shea patted Jacks’ cheek lightly. “All right, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but do something with him. I’m not in the mood to start messing with whatever subs haven’t been brought up to the dungeon already. Maybe tomorrow night. I’m about ready to head home.”

Taking a deep breath, Jacks leaned back, drawing Danny with him. “Say thank you to Master Shea for indulging you, pet. He doesn’t usually play with newbies. They make him grumpy. But that’s all right because it means you belong to me.”

“Thank you, sir.” Danny fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie, feeling awkward standing in front of Shea after the man held him while he came in Jacks’ mouth. He hardly knew either of these men and they’d seen more of him than almost anyone in his life. And now he had to go back to their place and act normal in front of Trevor. “I’ll...um...try not to make you grumpy.”

“Good, then we’ll get along just fine.” The edge of Shea’s lips quirked. He gave Jacks a sideways look. “A hundred bucks. Four days tops.”

Jacks blinked. Then shook his head. “A hundred bucks. Four days tops. Until you do.”

“Oh fuck you.” Shea pushed off his stool, laughing. “You’re on.”

There might be a lot of things here Danny wasn’t sure of, but as they left the bar—Shea calling a cab after deciding both he and Jacks had a few too many drinks—he knew one thing for certain.

The men were betting on him.

And like everything else that had happened tonight…

He had absolutely no idea how to feel about it.