Chapter One 

Andrew Townsend stood in the shadows, watching. The man tethered spread eagle to the rack was wearing nothing but a codpiece. Positioned as he was, facing the rack, he appeared naked save for the thin belt of black leather over his narrow hips. The globes of his ass were well-defined, solid muscle, the indentations below either hip just begging to be gripped while a thick, hard cock was eased inside him.

His smooth body was covered in a sheen of sweat and the tendons on his strong, thick neck were taut. His head was turned to the side and from where Andrew stood, he could see the man's face. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth open, it was twisted into a look the uninitiated might have called pain.

With each precisely aimed flick of the single tail lash, the man's body jerked, the thickly corded muscles rippling just beneath the skin. Even in the dim light, Andrew could see the man had Viking white-blond hair curling down the back of his neck and falling over his eyes, which Andrew knew were ice blue.

A crowd had gathered around the carefully choreographed scene, the spectators respectfully silent in the face of people who actually knew what they were doing. Most of the guys there were just players. Guys who cruised the sex bars and the underground BDSM clubs looking for one thing--a quick, easy lay with someone they didn't give a damn about and probably would never see again.

But from the scene he was watching, it was clear to Andrew these two were no players. As the single tail struck again and again, leaving its thin angry lines of pink over pale flesh, Andrew saw the change begin to occur. The tensely bunched muscles of the man's strong back began to ease. His fingers uncurled and his head fell back, lips parting. A look of utter peace slid over his slackening features as he entered that elusive place where pleasure and pain lost their separate meanings.

Andrew's gut gripped and he realized he was clenching his fists. He should have been the one standing there wielding the whip. He should have been the one to take this sub to the heights of erotic pain.

He wanted to push through the crowd and knock the Dom out of the way. He wanted to put his arms around the bound man and kiss those lips he'd dreamed of for all these years. Watching the unfolding scene was like dousing Andrew's pent up desire with gasoline and setting a match to it. He was burning out of control, his cock pressing like a steel rod in his jeans, jealousy dripping like an acid corroding his heart.

~*~

“The prodigal son returns.” Cam smiled toward Ethan as he came through the door of their small Brooklyn apartment. His heart never failed to miss a beat each time he saw his lover after a time apart, even as little as a few hours. Strong, muscular body, white-blond hair, firm jaw, aquiline nose, ready smile. But it was his eyes that captivated Cam anew every time he looked into them.

The irises were a clear, light blue, but if you looked closely, the blue was flecked with bits of white, like tiny diamonds that caught and reflected the light. His lashes were thick and long, the color of spun gold. Cam loved nothing better than to lie in Ethan's arms after sex and just lose himself in those beautiful eyes.

Ethan was older by five years to Cam's twenty-eight, but in some ways he was less experienced, especially when it came to D/s. Cam had once been the live-in sub of a very intense Dom named Bryan, though it was years before. He well knew how all-consuming such a relationship could become.

Unfortunately, while a very skilled master, Bryan had not been the right man for Cam. The Dom/sub component of their relationship was terrific, but when Bryan wasn't in Dom mode, he was, Cam had hated to finally admit this, boring. And no matter how intense and hot D/s was, Cam couldn't live that kind of lifestyle 24/7. Not and have a life of his own.

It had been a relief when Bryan broke it off first, telling to Cam he needed more from a sub than Cam was able to give. Cam had freely admitted he was right and had moved out the next day. He'd returned to the underground clubs, searching for something or someone, not sure they existed.

When he'd seen Ethan, nearly naked and tied to a rack, with four guys in black leather taking turns flicking their quirts against his pale, smooth skin, Cam had been riveted. Something about Ethan drew him instantly. The physical attraction was immediate. And afterwards, when he'd managed to get Ethan to a table, both of them now fully dressed, they'd talked as if they'd known each other for years, instead of minutes.

Ethan had taken Cam home that very first night, both of them laughing ruefully over the fact neither was Dom. At least, they told each other, they shared the same romantic worldview about D/s and BDSM. They'd find a way, they told each other, to make it work for them.

Sometimes he worried a little about their arrangement, though he was the one who had come up with it. Ethan took advantage of their open policy regarding play with Doms at clubs more frequently than Cam did. Was he unwittingly sending Ethan off into the arms of another?

Cam, too, adored the kiss of the lash and the command of a strong Dom, but he didn't require it in quite the same way Ethan did. He would have been content with just Ethan and their D/s games, but he'd known Ethan needed more. Cam wasn't a jealous man by nature, and he trusted Ethan. So far, their new arrangement had worked out pretty well. Ethan loved him and he loved Ethan. Why borrow trouble?

Cam was lounging on the sofa in his pajama bottoms, his chest bare. He held up his bowl. “I wasn't expecting you so early. Want some popcorn?”

Ethan came over and sat heavily beside him. “No, thanks. Not hungry.”

Cam paused the movie he'd been watching and turned to face Ethan. “So how did it go with that guy, Maestro? Was he the real thing? I figured you wouldn't be home before midnight at the earliest.”

“He was…it was…okay.” Ethan's face was in shadow.

“That good, huh?” Cam teased.

Ethan turned and looked at Cam head-on, those vivid blue and diamond eyes piercing into his. “I love you, Cam. You know that, right?”

Cam smiled, Ethan's words at once warming and unnerving him. “Sure. I know that. And I love you too, Ethan.”

Ethan stared at him a while longer and finally nodded slowly. “Good. That's good then.” He reached for the popcorn, scooping a buttery handful into his mouth as he turned toward the TV screen. “What're you watching?”

Ignoring the question for a moment, Cam said, “Tell me about tonight. What happened? What's got you all freaked out?”

“What?” Ethan whipped his head toward Cam. “What makes you think I'm freaked out? I'm fine. Just tired, is all. The night was fine. The guy had a really heavy, thuddy flogger--”

“My favorite,” Cam interjected.

Ethan offered a small smile. “Yeah. He knew how to use it, too.”

“So it was good? You're ready for me now?” Cam kept his tone light. He put his hand on Ethan's thickly-muscled thigh and slid it toward his crotch. “He warmed you up for a good fucking?”

Ethan's eyes flitted away and he turned his head. Cam felt his gut clench. What the hell was going on? Removing his hand from Ethan's thigh, Cam reached for Ethan's chin, forcing him to look at him. Whatever was going on, he had to know.

“What is it, Ethan? Talk to me. Please?”

Ethan pulled away from Cam's grasp. He stood and smiled, holding out his hand. “Hey, nothing. It's nothing, really. And yeah, I'm definitely ready for a good fucking. Though I was thinking of fucking you first, if that's okay, Mr. McNamee.”

Cam stared hard at Ethan, but Ethan only smiled more broadly. “Hey, really. It's cool. I'm sorry. Come on. Let's go to bed.” He continued to hold out his hand until Cam reached for it, allowing Ethan to pull him up. He flicked off the movie and set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Ethan pulled him into his arms and nuzzled his head against Cam's neck. “You're the one I love. You.”

Cam held him, trying hard to ignore the chill this emphatic assertion sent through his blood.