I contemplate the situation as I run, my feet slapping against the pavement, the sun only now starting to crest over the horizon. I was right. My morning run is far more enjoyable before sunrise, and it turns out this time of the morning is surprisingly peaceful.
I understand Hunter hired Byron because he has connections to the Ballsy Boys, but I’m not convinced hiring someone completely new to kink was the way to go. And Byron isn’t the only one. When I went over contracts with the rest of the boys, it was clear both Max and Ian are complete newbies as well. Although it seems like Ian has some major submissive tendencies. I think that once everything gets rolling, he’ll take to this like a duck to water.
My pulse thunders in my ears, and my lungs burn with exertion. When I first started running, I hated this feeling. Now it’s the second-best feeling in the world. Obviously, the rush of the perfect little sub giving themself to me is an unbeatable number one. As I run, I wrestle with whether it’s my place to question Hunter’s hiring practices.
On the one hand, he owns the studio, and I respect him as both a Dom and a businessman. I want to think he knows what he’s doing. On the other hand, he did hire me as a consultant, and I’d be shirking my duties not to bring this up to him.
By the time I slow my steps in front of my apartment building, I've decided. I take the stairs to my floor two at a time. As soon as I’m inside my place, I whip my sweaty shirt over my head and head straight for the shower.
I start the shower, strip off my shorts and underwear, and toss them into the hamper as I wait for the water to heat up. I run my fingers through my beard. Is it time for a trim? There’s such a fine line between a sexy, neat beard and mountain man beard, and I try to err more on the neat side when I can manage. A trim can wait a few more days. I push back the shower curtain and step inside.
The hot water cascades over my body, relaxing my tight muscles and drawing an appreciative groan from me. I’d kill to have an eager-to-please sub in here with me right now. I can practically feel a pair of confident, obedient hands soaping my body, massaging my neck and shoulders, vibrating with their need for praise. Fuck, do I love a praise slut. My cock thickens against my thigh, hardening and slowly standing at attention as I run my soapy hands all over my body, imagining needy sighs and impatient whimpers echoing off the tiled walls.
“Am I doing a good job, Sir?” a little voice whispers in my ear, and my whole body jolts. No fucking way does Byron belong in this fantasy. Unfortunately, my cock doesn’t seem to get that message because it only gets harder.
“Fuck,” I mutter, slamming my eyes shut and trying to conjure the image of the last sub I played with before I moved to Vegas. Except, nope, not going there. My brain decides to replace images of Vince with Byron on his knees at the club, his hands bound, his cheeks flushed.
I wrench my eyes open and turn around to face the showerhead, pushing my face under the stream and then using my hands to clear it away. I’m not going to stand here and jerk off to Byron. It’s unprofessional, and I won’t be that guy. I finish rinsing off, shut off the water, and climb out of the shower. It’s been too long since I’ve played with anyone or done any scenes, that’s all. It has nothing to do with Byron.
Once I’m dried off and dressed, I grab my phone and call Hunter.
“Hello?” he answers gruffly.
“Oh, shit, it’s early. Sorry.”
He chuckles, and I hear fabric rustling and what sounds like the soft, sleepy protest of his boy as I’m guessing he climbs out of bed.
“Is everything okay?” he asks after a few seconds.
“Everything is fine. Sorry, I was up early for a run and didn’t realize how early it still was.”
“You can’t manage to be on time if your life depends on it, but you’re up at the ass-crack of dawn?” He sounds more amused than annoyed, which I’m grateful for.
“Yeah. Listen, there is something I wanted to talk with you about, but I think it would be better to sit down in person rather than over the phone.”
“So, there is something wrong?”
“Not wrong exactly,” I hedge, running my hand over my mouth and sighing. “Can we meet for coffee in a few hours? And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to invite Harley to join us.”
“Sure, we can do that. Why don’t we say ten o’clock at Higher Grounds?” Hunter suggests.
“Great. Sorry again. I’ll let you get back to your boy, and I’ll see you at ten.”
Hunter laughs one more time. “Knowing you, it’ll be more like ten fifteen, but I’ll see you then.”
We say our good-byes, and I hang up. I opt for texting Harley so I don’t risk waking him like I did Hunter. He responds immediately, agreeing to meet, and I breathe a little easier.
“Ten oh five, I’m impressed,” Hunter jokes as I approach the table where they’re already seated with drinks in front of them.
“Oh, come on. Five minutes past counts as being on time.” “Ten minutes early is on time,” Harley counters, taking a sip from his coffee.
“Well, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever achieve that, so I guess I’ll just have to love myself for the constantly late asshole I am.”
“It’s okay. We love you anyway,” Hunter assures me.
I go to the counter and order some coffee, then join them at the table.
“So, what was so important that you dragged me away from my warm, sleepy boy this morning?” Hunter quirks an eyebrow at me.
“I’m concerned about Byron’s first scene.” I lay it out there without any pretense. “The kid doesn’t have the first clue what he’s getting himself into, and I don’t think he knows what he’s even consenting to.”
“Hm.” Harley makes an unhappy noise. “That certainly doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Exactly. “Does this have to do with the contract discussions you had with him yesterday?” Hunter asks.
“Yes. He didn’t know what most of the things on the list were, and then I took him to Ball and Chain last night so he could get his feet wet, and he was entirely too flippant about the idea of bondage and submission. I tried to open his eyes to the fact that kink isn’t a game, but I think I may have just made him nervous.”
“What did you do?” Harley asks, his eyes sharp.
“Relax. You know I wouldn’t do anything out of line. I used a quick slipknot on him so he could feel exactly what it’s like to have to trust someone with his safety. To be honest, I don’t think he’s even a submissive at heart, which could make his scenes extremely difficult and possibly even unsafe.”
“What’s your suggestion? Do you think I need to let him go completely?” Hunter asks.
I’m not sure how to answer. With everything I’ve said, it seems like releasing him from his Kinky Boys contract would be the right thing to do, but I hesitate to go that far.
“He needs a better idea of what being a submissive entails before he gets in front of that camera. And it wouldn’t hurt if you took some time to get to know him better,” I finally say.
“I’m way ahead of you on that. I already asked him to dinner tomorrow night so we could talk and get more comfortable with each other. Ziggy may be new to the scene, but you know I know what I’m doing.” Harley levels me with a look that says he doesn’t appreciate my lack of faith in him.