Handcuffs and Leather Read online

  Silence filled the office once more. Hadley swallowed rapidly before forcing himself to continue.

  “The men in the dream don’t fumble about trying to remember how their scout master taught them how to tie knots. They’re used to tying men up. And they don’t ask me if the bonds are too tight—I don’t get to complain about being uncomfortable when I’m with them. They don’t ask my opinion. They don’t ask my permission. They do whatever the hell they like with me and…” And I love every minute of it.

  Eyes closed very tight, he tried not to imagine how pathetic he had to sound to the other man. Desperate to be able to wake up one morning and actually feel as if he’d slept rather than tossed and turned pulling against the bonds that he wished were there, he forced himself to go on, even when his throat closed up around each word.

  “It’s nothing like it was with them. There are orders and rules. And if I don’t do as they say, there are punishments. They screw me. Whip me. And at the end of it all they just walk away without a word.” Hadley managed to force out a pathetic little chuckle. “I had the good fortune to be kidnapped by men who meant me no harm in the world, and all I can do is dream about how much more interesting my time with them would have been if they’d been sadists.”

  He wrenched open his eyes, stopping himself just short of admitting that the man he’d been picturing in every single dream wasn’t a cop or a criminal. Rawlings didn’t need to know he was the star of all the dreams to make them go away.

  The older man said nothing for a long time. Hadley stood there for several minutes before he finally turned his attention away from the window and looked across the room at him. His expression was unreadable.

  “So…” Hadley cleared his throat.

  “I think,” Rawlings said very slowly. “That it would be best if you left now.”

  Dr. Michael Rawlings watched the younger man’s expression flicker. For a second, a nervous little smile fluttered around his lips. Then it was gone. A few seconds passed. A frown crept across his forehead, beneath the messy blond fringe.

  “I don’t understand.” The younger man looked to the clock on the wall for guidance.

  The hour-long session wasn’t up. Rawlings didn’t need to follow the younger man’s gaze to know that.

  “It’s only half past.” Hadley’s tone of voice made it clear he was talking to himself more than anyone else—a policeman putting together the evidence and trying to work out the most likely explanation for a situation that didn’t make sense to him.

  “Yes, I realize that.” To Rawlings’ eternal relief, the words came out calm and level. “I still think it would be best if you left now, and that I transferred your case to another the member of the practice.”

  Yes, Rawlings silently repeated to himself. The younger man had to leave now, before the situation became even more complicated than it already was, before he went from what was on the borderline of acceptable psychiatric practice to full out unethical.

  “What?” Hadley just stared across the room at him, confusion filling in his eyes.

  “One of my colleagues will conduct the rest of your counseling sessions. If you stop at the desk on your way out, the appointment secretary will schedule something for you.”

  Hadley just kept staring at him. Unable to rise from his chair, all Rawlings could do was stare back.

  “I…”

  Rawlings turned his attention to the other man’s coat, where he’d tossed it over the back of a chair by the door. Hadley followed his gaze. Striding quickly across the room, he snatched up his jacket. A second later, the door slammed closed behind him, and Rawlings was alone in his office.

  Bowing his head over his desk for a moment, Rawlings tried to think of another term for the session—bar an almighty cock-up. He found a few words that fitted and muttered them under his breath.

  Leaning back in his chair he looked down at the ink that covered his right palm—they just didn’t make pens as strong as they used to. Either that, or he suddenly had far less control of his reactions than he grown accustomed to over the years. He shook his head as he placed the snapped biro on the desk and pressed the heel of his other hand to his tenting fly. Of course, it was the pen makers who had the problem…

  All his worries about the younger man as he watched Hadley withdraw further and further into himself since the hostage-taking lined themselves up inside his head. All the hours he’d spent imagining what might have happened to him presented themselves likewise for his inspection. All the wrangling to make sure the constable saw someone he could talk to about it fell in place beside them. And now this was what it finally came down to.

  Rawlings closed his eyes for a moment, and for the first time since he’d heard what happened to Hadley, he didn’t see what he’d been afraid might have taken place that night. He saw the fantasy Hadley had described to him in every perfect detail.

  The need in his voice, the submission in every line of his body, and all of it in the middle of a session where a psychiatrist would deserve to be struck off for doing anything in response.

  Rawlings forced his eyes open as he stood up. As he ran his palm under the tap in the little bathroom off his office, he couldn’t stop the other man’s words rolling around and around inside his head. His own thoughts chased after them, tangling around them.

  It wasn’t wishful thinking. It wasn’t malpractice. Hadley wasn’t a patient in need of help coming to terms with a violent horror. He was a submissive in need of something completely different.

  As soon as he was vaguely presentable, Rawlings went out to the desk to check when Hadley would be returning for his session with one of the other members of the practice.

  No appointment had been made.

  As he retraced his steps back to his office, Rawlings couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. He shouldn’t have thrown him out the moment the confession left his lips—he could only imagine what the younger man thought. Wandering over to the window that overlooked the car park, he sighed. He couldn’t have kept him in there when he had no chance of maintaining any semblance of a professional distance from him, either.

  Hadley’s car was still there. Rawlings’ eyes darted around the view, trying to catch a glimpse of him. There—in the park.

  A second later, Rawlings was back at the appointment desk. Less than a minute after that, he was in the car park.

  It was some twenty minutes before he finally saw Hadley walk out of the park, his head down, his hands pushed deep into his pockets.

  Rawlings stayed exactly where he was, leaning against the boot of the constable’s car, quietly ensuring there was no way in hell the guy could reverse out of his parking space without running him over.

  The blood seemed to drain out of the younger man’s face as Hadley spotted him. His steps faltered, but he pushed himself forward until he stood a yard or two in front of Rawlings, feet shoulder width apart, chin tilted back as if to say ‘take your best shot’.

  “You were right about one thing,” Rawlings told him.

  Hadley made no comment.

  “You don’t need a psychiatrist.”

  Nothing. Rawlings wasn’t quite sure if the constable was still too shaken to speak or if he was going for the silent treatment.

  “You need a master,” he said.

  Hadley opened his mouth. It was obvious he had his answer prepared long before he heard those last words. “You…” Hadley blinked as he quickly trailed off. “What?” A muscle in his jaw twitched as he obviously battled with his anger. “If there’s a punch line coming, get to it.”

  “I don’t joke about leather.” Rawlings let that sink in for a little while.

  Hadley looked away from him for a moment, when he looked back, he was studying him very carefully.

  “You left without making your appointment.” Rawlings held out the slip of paper the receptionist had printed out for him.

  “Appointment,” Hadley echoed, blankly.

  “Dr. Stephenson. Ten o’clock
tomorrow morning,” Rawlings specified, still holding out the slip.

  “You just said…” Hadley stepped forward and accepted the slip, but the movement seemed to be more about his body working on automatic pilot than him having any inclination to come closer to him. “Dr. Stephenson?”

  “She’s a good doctor, and she specializes in trauma counseling,” Rawlings told him. “Keep the appointment.”

  “You just said there was nothing wrong with me,” Hadley reminded him, eyes filled with confusion once more.

  Rawlings stared down at the smaller man. If he walked away right then, he’d technically done nothing more than follow him to make sure he got the appointment. He smiled slightly. The chances of him walking away now, after all the months they’d spent hovering around the attraction between them were microscopic.

  “If Dr. Stephenson agrees with my assessment, you have another appointment to add to your diary.” Rawlings held out another piece of paper with a hand written address and time scrawled on it. “If she agrees that you’re fine, come and see me this weekend.”

  “Why?”

  Because if he didn’t get a second opinion, there was no way he’d feel sure in his own mind, that he wasn’t taking advantage of one of his patients. And, at the same time… “Because I’ve already told you my diagnosis. You don’t need a psychiatrist. You need a master.”

  “You?” Hadley blurted out.

  “Yes.”

  “You…?” He obviously had no idea how to finish the sentence.

  Rawlings smiled slightly.

  Hadley looked back at the address. “Your house?”

  “Technically an annex off the main building that I used as an office when I was in private practice, but broadly speaking, yes.”

  Hadley nodded.

  Rawlings waited to see if there would be a verbal response. None was forthcoming. Hadley stared down at the piece of paper Rawlings had written his address on, as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

  “Any questions?”

  “It would be like I said?” Hadley blurted out. “Like…?”

  “Like the dreams?” Rawlings’ lips twitched into another smile. “Something like, but not exactly like.”

  Hadley took a deep breath. When their eyes met, Rawlings saw the need burning in them. Very slowly, Hadley nodded.

  The younger man already had too much thrown at him to have any chance of processing it all at once. Rawlings forced himself to step past him and walk back to his office. It was the only way he could make sure the younger man would have plenty of time to deal with any second thoughts before he found himself in his first scene.

  Hadley’s hand was already on the car door when Rawlings gave in to the temptation to say just one more thing.

  “Constable?”

  The younger man turned and looked over his shoulder.

  “Bring your handcuffs.”

  Hadley’s lips had already started to form a ‘why?’ when he stopped himself short, as if he’d just realized just how daft a question it was to ask under the circumstances. All credit to him, he bounced back quickly. “You don’t have any of your own?”

  Rawlings grinned. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got lots of toys for us to play with. But that doesn’t mean the idea of having a policeman helpless in his own cuffs doesn’t still amuse me.”

  Hadley nodded.

  Rawlings turned away without another word. That time, he didn’t look back—not even when he felt Hadley’s eyes tracing his progress all the way into the building.

  Chapter Two

  If it weren’t for the fact two well-respected psychiatrists like Dr. Rawlings and Dr. Stephenson had cleared him to return to his regular duties, Hadley would have been pretty sure he was certifiably insane for even being there.

  He glanced over his shoulder, down the path that led through the garden, past Rawlings’ house, and to the main road. A second later, he turned back to the door into the annex. If he couldn’t use insanity as an excuse, he’d just have to settle for knowing he was a bloody idiot for keeping the appointment.

  Lifting a hand, he quickly knocked on one of the dark wooden panels before he could lose the last of his courage and run.

  The door swung open so soon after he tapped the woodwork, it was impossible to believe the older man hadn’t known he’d been there. Rawlings had to have been standing on the other side of the woodwork the whole time, wondering if his ‘date’ would ever grow the balls to knock on the damn door.

  Hadley swallowed several times, unable to think of a damn thing to say while the other man stared silently down at him. The larger man stepped back to let him in. He immediately nodded to a coat stand just to the left of the door. “Leave your clothes there.”

  Hadley took off his coat and hung it up. It was only then that the rest of the order sank in. Not coat—clothes. “All of them?”

  “If I only wanted you to remove specific items, I’d have made that clear.”

  Dear Lord, this was really happening… Hadley turned his attention back to the coat stand, as if where he was about to leave his clothes might make some sort of difference to his decision.

  Rawlings made no comment on the fact he hesitated to follow the order, and Hadley knew without doubt that it was an order—one the other man expected to be obeyed.

  “And if I don’t?” he asked, never once turning to face the dominant.

  “You’re free to leave at any point.”

  Yes, he was. But he wouldn’t be for very long. Rawlings had been quite clear about that. He was going to tie him up—handcuff him with his own cuffs.

  “What if I…?” What if he didn’t have the stones to go through with the reality rather than the fantasy? He couldn’t make the question leave his lips, couldn’t bring himself to admit that he might actually be that much of a coward.

  “What if you change your mind later?” Rawlings asked.

  Hadley nodded.

  “Red.”

  Hadley looked over his shoulder.

  “That’s your safe word,” Rawlings said. “If you say it, everything stops.”

  Hadley nodded his understanding. “You’ve done a lot of this.” He wasn’t sure if he should feel very reassured or a just little bit terrified.

  “Sir.”

  Hadley stared at the coat stand as if he’d never imagined being told to address another man that way.

  “I’ll answer whatever questions you have—providing you ask them with respect.”

  “It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. You’ve done a lot of this…sir.” The very word made his throat go dry with anticipation.

  “Yes.”

  Hadley nodded. Far more willing to look back and realize he’d been a fool than remember that he’d been a coward, he pulled his t-shirt over his head before he could change his mind.

  Rawlings said nothing.

  Hadley went down on each knee in turn and pulled off his shoes and socks. He placed them neatly at the base of the coat stand and rose to his full height. As he undid the top button of his fly, something shifted in his jeans pocket. He dug the handcuffs out, along with their key. Finally turning to face Rawlings, he held both items out to the other man. “I… You said you wanted them…sir.”

  Rawlings held out his hand.

  Hadley stepped forward, the tiles cold beneath his bare feet. His fingers brushed against Rawlings palm as he placed the restraints into the other man’s grip. His touch lingered there as he slowly raised his gaze and their eyes met.

  Rawlings nodded once.

  It was stupid to take comfort from that little gesture. It was even more idiotic to keep standing there, staring up at the older man like a love sick, little puppy. Hadley forced himself to turn away, back to the coat stand. The top button on his jeans was already undone. The others didn’t take long.

  He pushed the denim down his legs, hooked his boxers on the way past, and kicked the tangle of material from his feet. Playing for time, he folded his jeans and set th
em neatly with his other clothes. He was still wearing his watch. He stared down at it for a few seconds.

  “I’ll tell you when it’s time for the scene to end.”

  “Yes, sir.” The word came slightly easier each time he said it. Even as his heart raced faster and faster, something inside him calmed. Rawlings would tell him what to do. All he had to do was obey. It made for a very simple view of the world.

  Setting his watch on top of the little pile of clothing, Hadley waited for the next order.

  “Do you know why I ended our interview earlier this week?”

  Hadley shook his head. His first guess had obviously been wrong. It wasn’t because Rawlings thought he was some sort of demented pervert—or if he did, it seemed safe to assume that the doctor didn’t think that was an entirely bad thing.

  The other man’s boots clicked against the floor as he stepped forward. The warmth of his body caressed Hadley’s skin as the larger man stood close behind him. “Psychiatrists aren’t supposed to get off on hearing their patient’s fantasies,” Rawlings told him, lowering his voice so the words became a secret they shared.

  Needing to see the truth in the other man’s eyes, Hadley tried to turn and face him.

  Rawlings’ hand settled on his shoulder, holding him where he was. “What did you fantasize about, Hadley?”

  The constable swallowed. All the fantasies were there, right in the front of his head, but he couldn’t bring them to his lips. All he could do was stare at the empty patch of wall next to the coat stand.

  The hand on his shoulder pushed him one step forward. Another, until he was pressed against the wall. The paintwork was cold against his skin. Rawlings’ hand stroked down his arm, caught up his wrist and twisted his arm back to pin it against his spine. Heat rushed to Hadley’s cheeks.

  He’d imagined being trapped against a wall a million times, but never like that. He’d never thought that he wouldn’t curse and shout and fight. He closed his eyes and forced himself to try and pull his wrist out of Rawlings’ hand.

  “Hush.”

  Hadley froze. He’d expected to be pushed roughly back against the wall—an angry yell and a wrenched arm. Rawlings’ grip tightened around his wrist—just enough to hold it exactly where it was. The word was gentle, more the way someone would speak to a fretting puppy than another man.