Free Gayday! Gayday! - Gay 11 by Kim Dare Page A

been calling him from, Slade found himself quickening his stride as he made his way to his car.
    The idea of a bratty little sub like Rip in a club like Black’s was…he shook his head as he drove out of the car park. The little fool was going to get himself whipped, and not in the way he’d probably enjoy.
    As Slade pulled up outside the club a few minutes later, he’d never been so glad to live so close to the best kinky club in the area. But a quick glance at his watch still showed Rip had already been on his own in there for far too long.
    Slade marched straight into the main room of the club, scanning the shadowy gloom for any sign of his friend as he went. Pretend to be his boyfriend catching him cheating…it was a bloody stupid idea, but as he stormed through the various public areas and failed to catch sight the sub, he soon found himself furious enough to pull off the act all too convincingly.
    Images flashed through his head of all the many and varied things that could be happening to the stupid little fool. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.
    There!
    Slade stopped. His friend knelt, apparently unharmed, on a black leather cushion on the other side of the room. The dominant ran his eyes over the smaller man’s body. His posture was wrong. He looked wary beneath the usual mop of blond hair. But there wasn’t a mark on him. Slade’s fist unfurled as he forced himself to push his anger aside.
    Tearing his eyes away from the submissive, he turned his attention to the dominant sitting in the chair above him. Slade bit back a curse as he recognised Hewett.
    The part of Slade that had mentally been calling his friend all the names under the sun for dragging him out of his bed for nothing fell silent. It was hard to blame him for realising he was out of his depth with Hewett—he was right.
    As Slade strode towards them, Rip glanced up. Slade saw the relief flash across the younger man’s gaze. It should probably have made him feel sorry for his friend. It didn’t. Rip might not fool around with the hardcore end of the lifestyle, but he knew enough about it not to get himself involved with someone like Hewett.
    Rip’s expression wavered as he seemed to sense just how furious Slade was with him. He shuffled a little further back on his cushion. Big blue eyes opened very wide as Slade failed to stop at the edge of the little collection of seats and simply call him to heel.
    Slade kept going until he loomed right above the kneeling sub. A hand on the back of the smaller man’s tight black t-shirt pulled him to his feet. He stumbled, but Slade kept him upright as he turned his attention to the other dominant.
    He nodded politely to the older man. “Hewett.”
    The dominant’s lips twitched into a half surprised, half amused smile as he looked from Slade, to Rip, and back to Slade again. “Pearson. It’s been a while.”
    “You know him—?” Rip stopped himself short as Slade glared at him.
    “Yours?” Hewett asked.
    Slade took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. To play the bloody stupid game, or not to play the bloody stupid game…“It’s early days,” he said in the end. “He’s still at the bratty stage.”
    Hewett looked Rip up and down very carefully. “He’s not wearing a collar.”
    “He hasn’t earned one yet,” Slade said, without even thinking twice about it. “He still has a lot to learn about what I consider to be acceptable behaviour for a sub.” His free hand tightened into a fist once more. Wandering off with a dominant that was way out of his league was not acceptable behaviour for a sub, right then, it was hard to consider it acceptable behaviour for a friend either.
    “Take a seat,” Hewett offered, apparently quite willing to accept that having some sort of previous acquaintance with the younger man gave Slade some right to claim ownership of him. Either that, or he’d worked out for himself that Rip wasn’t the kind of submissive who’d be able to enjoy the