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Waiting three beats, Scotland turned away, before settling with his back against the nearest wall. Shit wasn’t mirrored on this floor. Nobody wanted to see their own face bloody after a round in the practice ring.
“Sorry. Sir.” Clint looked over his shoulder, biting his lower lip.
Maxim’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth wide as he lost his grip on the bag. He dropped his gaze to Clint, furrowing his forehead a moment later. “Never took you for a sub.”
Clint cleared his throat, dropping his hands to his sides as he took a shuffled step back. There was a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there a moment before, his biceps flexing for no apparent reason.
“We’re switches,” said Scotland, speaking up before Clint could say a word. He could sympathize with how Clint felt. He hadn’t expected judgment from a fellow kinkster.
If anything, Maxim looked even more confused. “What the hell is a switch?”
It was Scotland’s turn to be surprised. Maxim gave him the impression that he’d been around the block a time or two, but he looked genuinely confused.
“Someone who is both a Dom and sub,” said Clint, a professional mask slipping over his face. “If a person enjoys both roles or needs them, then they can often switch back and forth. Sometimes it depends on their partner or just the situation.”
Depends on their partner? Scotland swallowed, looking at the laces on his running shoes. He’d been in the Dominant role the entire time with Clint, and he’d hardly noticed. But submission was something he needed, too. Hopefully, that was something Clint realized. He couldn’t be in the lead all the time.
“Oh,” said Maxim, scratching at his chin. “Niki needs to explain some of this shit to me. Doesn’t matter, though. Nothing kinky in this gym—you got it? I vouched for Scotland ’cause he’s a cool guy. I don’t want to have to rescind his membership.”
Maxim cracked his knuckles, looking far too intimidating.
A nervous chill raced through Scotland’s body. “No problem. But it’s not my fault if he gets turned on by a little pounding.” Scotland shrugged, the lie rolling off his tongue like molasses. A little fib never hurt anyone, and he was pretty sure Maxim was just talking out of his ass. He’d spent a good twenty minutes on the phone already with Maxim to set up this scene, so he wasn’t worried.
“Fair enough,” said Maxim. “Copley can come just from a little spanking, so I get it. Are you here to work out, then? I can help you get your hands wrapped.”
“Thanks, man, but I’ve got it.”
Scotland led Clint to the far end of the basement, passing about a dozen guys he knew. He paused at each one, starting up a conversation until Clint was shifting from foot to foot, flicking his gaze around the room. With every one, he introduced Clint as a friend, and Clint narrowed his eyes.
After grabbing some wrapping material, he sat Clint on one of the benches, grasping his hand as he started to bandage his knuckles.
“Friends,” said Clint, spitting out the word like it tasted foul. “This is why I stick with kinky shit. I feel like I’m back in the closet.” He jerked his hand as Scotland made another round.
“You’re sexy when you pout,” said Scotland, finishing off one of Clint’s hands and starting on the second. “You can’t go everywhere in life strutting your kink and expecting to be accepted.”
“Yes, you can.” Clint drew his hand back, placing it on Scotland’s chest to stop him. “There isn’t anywhere in the world where you shouldn’t be able to be yourself, and nobody is so much better than you that they can’t accept you for exactly who you are. I gave up hiding a long-ass time ago, and I have no plans to go down that road again.”
Scotland swallowed before glancing away. Maybe he’d been wrong to bring Clint here. But maybe Clint was right. He hadn’t realized it, but there were places where he hid himself.
“Not everybody has Unkinked all the time, Clint. This is the real world.”
“You know what?” Clint pushed himself off the bench, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fuck you.” He turned toward the rest of the gym, raising his voice. “Hey, assholes, guess what? I’m gay as hell, and I like BDSM. I’m not talking a little wax play, but full-on fuck me against the wall and choke me out, ’cause that’s what makes me come the hardest. This asshole here”—he jabbed a finger in Scotland’s direction—“is too afraid to get it on outside the house. Hell, he hasn’t been able to make me come in weeks.”
The sound of fists never ceased, but a few people glanced over to Maxim before they returned to their workout. Most of them probably had earbuds in, except for the two in the closest ring who had definitely heard and cared about Clint just as much as they did about getting an inevitable concussion.
“What did I say about making trouble?” called Maxim, stretching out a leg muscle as he glanced their way. “No fucking in the gym. Looking’s free.”
“I’m not making trouble.” Clint dropped his gaze before kicking at the edge of a mat. “I’m just doing a warmup. You know—letting all the frustration out.”
“Or, you think you can get your way by putting on a big pout,” said Scotland. “I don’t have a problem with being kinky, Clint, but these are my friends, and they didn’t consent to a scene in the middle of the mats.”
Clint bit his lip at that, his face flushing. “I may have gotten a bit carried away, Sir.” He didn’t look that apologetic. “But you can’t stop me from making dick jokes.”
“Go ahead.” Scotland shrugged, trying to squash the unease that remained. He was out and proud and didn’t give a crap what people thought of him. But there was a time and a place to be a brat, and this was not it.
I’ll just have to make that clear.
“Now let me finish wrapping your hands so we can get to that pounding we talked about.”
