Gentle Hand, page 2
part #2 of Perfect Hands Series
“Raf, it’s not been ten. It’s been five because I’ve kept count, and it’s not supposed to work. It’s supposed to tell you if a kink clicks with you or you with the kink. It’s supposed to make you feel something, help you find what could be your thing.”
Raf. What a cute name for that sweet, young voice. And how glad Brendan was to hear that Raf’s companion had such a realistic approach.
“You knew instantly what your thing was,” Raf said, and he sounded miserable.
“That’s only because I wanted to be a Dom for all the wrong reasons, because I thought it would impress Cornell. It so happened I was actually good at it and really connected with it. But I’m still discovering stuff I like and dislike in training with Ford.”
Ah, he was Ford’s protegé. Brendan could picture him now, the Rhys he’d met briefly a few weeks ago when Ford had approached him if his mentee could watch Brendan administer a spanking. Rhys was young, twenty-one or so, if Brendan remembered correctly. But he’d been polite, eager to learn, and he’d taken it seriously. No wonder with Ford as a mentor because that man didn’t take on just anyone.
“I know,” Raf said, sounding even more sad than before. “I’m angry with myself and so disappointed. I really thought I’d connect with puppy play, you know? But it made me feel stupid and not happy and free at all. That Dom was hella annoyed with me as well.”
“You were kind of disobedient,” Rhys said, and for the first time, his voice took on a slight edge. “If you’d been my sub, I would’ve paddled your ass red for that, just so you know.”
“I know,” Raf said, and Brendan had to strain his ears to hear him, his voice was so small. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at obeying.”
“You can be, though,” Rhys said. “That’s what frustrates me sometimes. I know you like being told what to do when I do it, and I can’t figure out why you can’t do it in a scene.”
“I don’t know either,” Raf said, and Brendan could hear the tears in his voice. “But a few sessions more like this one, and no Dom will want to play with me anymore.”
Brendan’s heart filled with compassion at the heartbreak in that simple statement. He’d seen it before—boys who struggled to fit in, even in a community made up of what most people would consider outliers. If you didn’t fit inside the boxes, it wasn’t easy to find your place.
“I promise you we’ll find where you fit, Raf,” Rhys said. “I’m not giving up on you this easily. But can you hang here for half an hour? Master Ford has a demonstration he wants me to watch, and after that, I’ll take you home okay?”
It was quiet for a little bit, but then Raf spoke up again, his voice a bit muffled as if he was being held. “Will you make hot cocoa for me when we get home? With marshmallows?”
Brendan jerked upright, his mind on high alert now at that sweet request. Could it be? Was it possible that he’d found someone who would appreciate his type of care? It certainly had the potential of being exactly what this boy needed.
“Of course. Hang tight, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
“And Raf, please don’t wander off. It makes it hard for me to find you, and you could get into trouble, remember?”
“Right. I remember. I’ll wait here, Rhys.”
There was some rustling and then Brendan saw Rhys walk by, confirming he’d left the booth. Brendan wasn’t sure why, but he listened in hard, anticipating what started mere seconds after Rhys had walked away.
The sound of a boy crying.
Raf tried to keep it quiet. The last thing he wanted was to become a bother to someone else tonight. His father used to say Raf had filled his quota of stupidity for that week, and that’s how he felt tonight, like he’d more than filled his quota for being a bother. God, Rhys had to get sick and tired of him by now. And the thought of losing his best friend made his heart hurt even more.
He tried to keep his sobs in, but he couldn’t hold them back, the sadness too overwhelming to be kept inside. He was such a failure. At everything. At twenty-two, he had no job despite the college degree he’d worked so hard to get, no boyfriend, a crappy apartment he shared with a total asshole who stole his food half the time, and no fucking clue about how to be an adult. Life sucked, and he kept hoping things would get better, but they didn’t.
And now this, another failure at discovering where he fit in. He’d tried doing what Rhys had told him, to simply obey the Dom and not worry about anything else. But his mind didn’t work that way. The puppy gear had been cute at first, and he’d liked being able to play, but then the Dom had started giving commands like fetch, and Raf had gone in his head.
Was he supposed to walk or crawl? Bark? Could he use his hands? Why did the other puppies have a tail and he didn’t? Oh, he wanted a long one like that big, furry pup. That had to feel good in your ass. Would it rub against your pleasure spot when you moved? He bet it did. And before he knew it, he’d stopped listening and had one highly irritated Dom on his hands.
Why could his brain never cooperate and focus for once? The fact that he’d had a hard time lately sticking to the schedule for his meds didn’t help either. In high school and the first year of college, it had been easier because Rhys had helped him set alarms on his phone. But then he’d dropped his phone in the toilet—and it had drowned, of course—and he’d bought a new one, and he’d forgotten to put the alarms back on. Adulting was hard, and he sucked at it.
Surrendering to the overwhelming sadness inside him, Raf put his hands on the table and buried his head in them, wishing he could stop thinking for just five minutes. Stop thinking, stop worrying, stop jumping from thought to thought without ever having peace. Just stop.
“Can I join you?” a warm, male voice asked, and Raf’s head shot up.
The man standing at his booth was utter perfection. He had to be in his forties, with silver hairs between his brown hair and in his short beard. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt that showed off his big arms and chest, his chest hair peeping from the V-neck. Raf’s gaze dropped lower down, to a soft, slightly round belly and a pair of thick thighs in simple jeans. He was the epitome of a silver bear, and Raf’s mouth watered.
When the man kept holding his gaze, Raf realized he’d been asked a question…and that he was a blubbering mess while this man was sheer perfection. God, the timing couldn’t have been worse. Why couldn’t this guy have seen him two hours before, when he’d been happy and cute as fuck?
Oh, he still hadn’t answered his question, though the man showed no signs of impatience yet. “I’m not at my best right now,” Raf said.
The man smiled. “That wasn’t the question,” he said. “It was a simple yes or no.”
Huh. He had a point. “Yes?” Raf said hesitantly, not sure why the man would want to sit with him.
The man scooted into the booth, finding a spot so close to Raf he could smell the woody scent of his cologne. “I’m Daddy Brendan, but you can call me Brendan for now.”
Somehow, Raf’s mind got stuck on those last words. “For now?”
Brendan’s smile widened. “One step at a time, boy. You’re Raf, am I right?”
How did he know that? Oh god, had he heard about him yet from other Doms? Had he fucked things up so badly that Doms were already gossiping about him behind his back? Tears pushed behind his eyes all over again.
“Look at me, boy,” Brendan said, and Raf looked. There was something in his voice that made him want to. “All you have to do is answer my question, nothing else.”
Okay. He could do that. “Yes, I’m Raf. How did you know?”
“I overheard you talking with your friend,” Brendan said, and Raf wanted to die right fucking now.
“That was a private conversation,” he offered weakly.
Brendan shook his head. “Not at that volume in a club like this, it’s not.”
“You’re not even gonna apologize for listening in?” Raf said, intimidated and indignant at the same time.
“Nope, because I may be able to help you.”
“Help me?” Raf asked, intrigued now. “With what?”
“With finding where you fit in, what kink would work for you.”
Raf brought his hand to his nose to wipe it off, but Brendan grabbed his wrist. “Not with your hand,” he said, his voice mild but with with that little edge to it that made Raf pay attention. Brendan grabbed a cocktail napkin from the little holder on the table. “Use this.”
Brendan released his wrist, and Raf took the napkin, then wiped his nose. He was handed another one. “Blow your nose,” was the instruction.
Blow your nose? What was he, five? Still, Raf did as he was told, then crumpled up the napkins and stuffed them in his pockets. No way was he leaving those on the table because that was just gross.
To his surprise, Brendan took another napkin, then turned to him and asked, “Can I touch you?”
Raf nodded, too curious to even speak.
“Use your words, boy.”
“Yes,” Raf said immediately. “What were you…?”
He couldn’t even finish his sentence because Brendan came at him with the napkin, dabbing his eyes and drying his tears. It was a move so sweet and unexpected that Raf almost started crying again. Who and what was this man?
“Tell me what you’ve tried so far.” It wasn’t even a question.
Raf debated whether he wanted to share his humiliation with this perfect stranger. Then again, what use was it to hold back now? If the man had overheard him talking to Rhys, he already got the gist of it anyway.
“I started with ropes because Rhys thought it might help me become quiet in my head. Master Ford tied me up so I could feel if that would help me calm down. It didn’t. He ended it before I could use my safe word. But he was really nice about it and said it wasn’t for everyone, that a lot of people had trouble sitting still.”
Brendan nodded. “Very true. It’s definitely not my thing, not as a Dom either.”
Encouraged by that, Raf tried to remember what the second thing had been. The puppy play had been today, but what else had he done? Oh right, the blindfolding disaster. He sighed. “Turns out that when you blindfold me, I get very angsty about not being able to see what’s happening, and my brain wouldn’t stop worrying. Or talking.”
He peeked at Brendan from underneath his eyelashes, but the man never laughed at him. “Okay. So you found out that doesn’t work either.”
“Neither does pain.” Raf felt emboldened by the man’s reactions so far. “We tried that in two different sessions, and it doesn’t do anything for me, except hurt. I see these sessions where people are being flogged and whipped and they fucking love it, but I just wince when I see that.”
“No cuss words,” Brendan said.
Raf frowned. What now?
“When you’re with me, I don’t want to hear cuss words coming out of your mouth. You didn’t know, so I’ll let this one pass, but from now on, no cuss words.”
Raf opened his mouth to ask if the man was fucking kidding, but one look at his face made him reconsider. Okay, then. That would take some getting used to.
“I’ll try.” He wanted to show his good intentions.
“I’ll make sure to give you proper incentives and deterrents,” Brendan said rather cryptically. “But please continue.”
What were they talking about again? Oh right, his failures. Raf sighed again. “I assume you heard about today’s unmitigated disaster with the puppy thing?”
“From what I understood, that failed to grab your interest as well.” Raf thought that was the politest way describing it ever.
“That was it. Oh wait, I forgot about the kneeling session. That was…” He waved his hands, searching for a way to put it into words. “The Dom kept calling me a brat, and it took me a while to figure out he didn’t mean it as a compliment.” His shoulders dropped low. “I suck at this. What am I doing wrong? I don’t understand. Maybe it’s my brain.”
He clasped his hands together, then started popping his knuckles because it was such a satisfying sound. He stopped when Brendan put a big, strong hand on his, squeezing gently but with enough pressure to get his attention.
“You’re doing nothing wrong, boy.”
Raf decided he liked the way Brendan said that word. Boy. He was far from the first person to use that term, but it sounded different coming from him. More intense, somehow. As if he meant it.
“Raf, I want to try something with you, if you’re open to it,” Brendan said, still holding Raf’s hands.
Raf looked up, not sure what this perfect man could possibly want to try with him. “You don’t need to take pity on me,” he said softly. “I appreciate it, but I’m not your problem.”
“Raf, honey, you’re no one’s problem. You should be someone’s precious boy, but never a problem.”
Raf let out a little sigh at those words. “That’s really sweet of you to say. I doubt anyone would agree with you, but it’s nice to hear.”
“I’m a patient man, so we have time. But I’ll need your permission to try, boy. What do you say? Are you willing to trust one more time?”
2
Brendan almost held his breath, waiting for the adorable boy to agree. God, he hoped he’d gotten through to him enough to make him curious, to make him want to try. The boy had been hurt and rejected, that was clear, and oh, Brendan’s heart ached for him. He couldn’t bear it, those big blue eyes that radiated so much pain.
Raf bit his lip, studying Brendan. “What are you going to do?”
Brendan smiled. “Nothing you don’t want, I promise. All you’d have to do is say stop, and we’ll stop instantly.”
“I thought stop wasn’t considered a good safe word.”
“It’s not, but you don’t need a safe word for what we’re doing. This is not a scene, Raf, merely something I want to try. Do you trust me?”
Raf kept worrying that full bottom lip, and Brendan made a mental note to discourage him from that habit because he had other uses in mind for his perfect lips.
“I can’t go anywhere,” the boy said. “I promised Rhys I would stay here.”
“And do you usually do what Rhys tells you to?” Brendan was curious about the relationship between those two because it sounded like it wasn’t a standard friendship.
Raf’s cheeks grew a little red. “Not always, but I try to. He’s really smart, and he always looks out for me. Plus, when I don’t listen and I get into trouble, he gets this look and tone that I don’t like,” Raf confessed.
Brendan kept his face carefully blank, but inside he was elated with the answers and clues Raf was sharing. It almost seemed too good to be true, which was why his little experiment was so important. The last thing he wanted was another Henry on his hands.
“Hmm, I see. And you don’t like it, when he gets that tone with you?”
Raf shook his head vehemently at first, but then he hesitated. “No, but at the same time I kind of do, because it shows that he cares.”
There was a story there, Brendan was sure, but not one he would ask for now. They had time. “We’ll stay right here in this booth, I promise. When Rhys comes back, he’ll find you here, in one piece and out of trouble. What do you say?”
Finally Raf nodded, and Brendan let out a sigh of relief on the inside. “You’ll need to use words, boy,” he said.
Raf rumpled his cute button nose. “Why are you Doms always so fucking strict about that? Like, why is that so important?”
Brendan merely lifted an eyebrow at him to signal his displeasure. Raf’s face fell.
“Oops. Sorry. I didn’t mean to cuss.”
He looked so contrite that Brendan had no doubt he meant it. “I appreciate you trying. To answer your question, it’s all about consent. Consent in this stage has to be verbal so there’s no doubt we both agree to this.”
Raf nodded, looking serious now. “Okay. I agree to whatever it is you want to do,” he said, then frowned. “But it’s nothing that will hurt, right? Or that involves, like, bodily fluids? Or sex?”
Brendan chuckled. “Next time, you might want to toss those out there before agreeing,” he teased him. “But no, boy. I told you, it’s not a scene. I need permission to touch you and your promise you’ll try to do what I ask you.”
Worry instantly clouded Raf’s face. “I’m not very good at following orders,” he whispered.
“Let me be the judge of that, okay? You ready to start?”
“Yes,” Raf said after a short pause.
“I want you to take your shoes off first.”
Raf’s face showed curiosity, but he obediently pulled up his feet and untied his colorful sneakers before kicking them off. He met Brendan’s eyes with an expectant gaze. “Good boy,” Brendan praised him, watching with amazement as Raf’s face lit up like fireworks. God, he was starving for it, and he had no idea.
Brendan dropped his gaze to the tight jeans the boy was wearing that looked like he’d needed help to peel them off. He had to admit they looked fantastic on him, but they couldn’t be comfortable.
“Can you breathe in those?” he asked, pointing at the pants.
Raf smiled as he shrugged. “They’re a little tight, but they make my ass pop. I figured it might help me score tonight.”
“Take them off, please. I need you to be comfortable. Unless you’re not wearing underwear?”
Raf’s grin widened. “You bet your ass I am. I’m not putting my junk in these without an extra layer of protection.”
Brendan made a tsk-sound, and Raf’s smile vanished. “Sorry for cussing,” he said, his shoulders dropping a little.
“I’m not upset with you, Raf. You’re trying really hard, and that’s all that matters.”
Some of the tension left Raf, and he leaned back in the booth, stretching his legs. Then he started shimmying out of his pants. Brendan watched, his eyes glued to the spectacle of that lean, graceful body maneuvering itself to get out of those impossible jeans. The waistband of his boxer briefs rode dangerously low as he pulled it down, revealing nothing but smooth skin. He shaved or waxed, and Brendan’s cock was throbbing at the thought. Such a perfect boy, and Raf didn’t even realize it.
