Jordan & Rhys, in the Frankie series. Rhys is having an issue.
From the corner of the room, Rhys scowled at the submissive kneeling in front of Jordan. A sweet, sexy, young sub, dressed in nothing but leather cuffs, who looked at Jordan as if he wanted to eat him up.
“If the wind changes your face is going to stay like that,” Tony whispered.
“Huh?” Rhys looked up at Tony who knelt next to him as they waited for the paddling demonstration. “What?”
“Your face. If looks could kill – which one do you want to kill? Jordan or Harry?”
“Take your pick,” Rhys muttered.
He knew he was being unreasonable but Jordan was his Master, not Harry’s. Rhys should be the one now leaning over the spanking bench, except Jordan, as the prospective manager of Marchant’s club, had to stand in at the last minute for the Dom who should have been giving the demonstration, and Harry was already organised.
“I know how you feel. So many subs lust after Leo, and think they can take my place. I’m too big, old, and ugly to be a proper sub.”
The bitterness in Tony’s voice cut through Rhys’s anger and he turned to look at Tony. “What the fuck? They’ve said that?”
Tony shrugged. “To my face.”
As the assistant manager and Marchant’s right-hand man, no one, certainly not any of the subs, should talk to Tony like that. Rhys was relatively new to the club, but he knew Marchant well enough to know he’d be furious to hear people disrespecting Tony. “You haven’t told Marchant or Jordan, have you?”
“Happens so often I ignore it.” Except the bitterness told Rhys something different.
Rhys frowned at Tony, then he caught Marchant’s scowl and turned back to watch the demonstration. He would talk to Ed, who would talk to his Master, who just happened to be Marchant, who would kick these ignorant subs into touch. Fortunately, Rhys had no worries about Leo, Tony’s Master, who loved having his big, muscled sub at his feet and never noticed the twinks lusting after him.
He took a deep breath and focused on Jordan, as he swung the paddle. His red hair shone bright under the lights, and his muscled torso revealed that Jordan was physically recovered from the assault last year. Jordan wore a pair of tight leather trousers and boots, although he'd taken his shirt off to do the demonstration. Maybe he was a little pale but Jordan didn’t tan. Rhys wanted to rush over and demand to be fucked senseless in front of everyone. Rhys was a basic kind of guy and Jordan was his.
Thankfully the paddling was over soon enough. Tony went back to the bar and Rhys gritted his teeth as Jordan took care of Harry. The aftercare was as much part of the demo for the newbies as the paddling itself. Rhys scowled at his knees and waited. He didn’t look up when a pair of leather trousers stood in front of him.
“Position.” Jordan sounded tired.
Rhys crossed his wrists behind his back, raised his head to look at Jordan’s boots and decided they need polishing.
“Yes, sir.” No point denying it.
“You think it should have been you.” Jordan didn’t sound angry, but Rhys was afraid to look up. If Jordan had seen Rhys’s reaction, Rhys had let his Master down; let them down.
“Yes, sir,” Rhys admitted barely above a whisper.
“Get to your feet.”
Rhys stood as gracefully as he could, trying not to stagger after so long on his knees.
“Look at me.”
Rhys chewed the inside of his cheek before he obeyed. Jordan stared at him, his arms folded, sweat still beading across his forehead and on his chest.
“You think because Harry flutters his eyelashes at me I want him? Is that what you think of me?”
Now Jordan did look furious and Rhys knew he’d badly screwed up. He thought frantically about how he could sort this out. “Sir—”
Jordan frowned. “Hush.”
Rhys pressed his lips together, seeing the smirk on Harry’s face even at a distance.
Unaware of the brief interaction, Jordan said “I’m not interested in Harry. Not now, not ever. He’s not my type.”
That was a lie—Rhys had met a couple of Jordan’s previous subs, all clones of Harry—but Rhys appreciated Jordan’s effort to reassure him.
“I’ve told Marchant I’m not doing this again,” Jordan continued. “Any future demonstrations we’ll do together.”
Rhys stared at Jordan. “You mean that?”
“It’s you and me.” Jordan stroked Rhys’s cheek. “Just you and me, sweetheart.”
“Sir, you’re going to be the manager. You have to work with the other subs.” Rhys didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise Jordan’s future It had been a long and hard road to get where they were, and Rhys would not let his jealousy stand in Jordan’s way. He would step out of Jordan’s life rather than let that happen.
Jordan stepped into Rhys’s space, forcing him to look up. “No, I don’t. Marchant only works with Ed and Leo with Tony. I just need Doms and subs who are prepared to work together. We can work it out, Rhys. I promise.”
Rhys saw the sincerity in Jordan’s eyes. “I believe you.”
“You’d better,” Jordan said, a growl in his voice. “I think it’s about time I spent some time showing you exactly who you belong to. On your knees!”
Rhys knelt gracefully in front of his Master and bowed his head, waiting for Jordan’s command. He needed this, needed the reminder. He belonged to Jordan and Jordan was his.
Day 3: Hazel Takes Over
Day 5: Kyle.1
Day 3: Hazel Takes Over
Day 5: Kyle.1