Page 6 of Inhuman Natures #1

Rake

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Rake asked.

DJ’s head shot up from where he was staring into his tomato soup, one hand fingering the silver chain necklace he wore in lieu of his collar.

They’d arrived at the office cafe early, waiting for their friends—and DJ’s friend David—to join them. Not that DJ was making the most of their longer lunch. By the time he ate any soup, it would be cold and give him an excuse to chuck it out.

“Him who?” DJ replied.

Rake narrowed his eyes, making it clear he wasn’t fooled by DJ’s question.

“Shaun?” DJ asked. He’d never been very good at pretending. Granted, it usually involved him lying about having done the dishes or eaten breakfast, and not about him being preoccupied with another guy.

They weren’t open, but they weren’t strictly monogamous, either. Even so, DJ thinking about someone else for longer than a shared scene hadn’t happened before in their six-year relationship .

Until now.

“You’ve been distracted all weekend,” Rake said.

“And today you’re barely touching your food.

” It didn’t take much to trigger DJ’s propensity for skipping meals.

Rake just wasn’t sure whether DJ felt self-conscious about the comparison between him and Shaun—DJ being tall and chunky compared to the tiny Shaun—or if he was anxious about Shaun’s well-being. Maybe it was both.

“Rake, it’s not like that.”

“I think it’s worrying you. I don’t like seeing it.”

“Of course I’m concerned about him. His pathetic excuse for a Dom shouldn’t be allowed back in the club after breaking the rules like that.”

Rake didn’t disagree. “We’ll keep an eye out for Shaun next time we’re there, okay?”

DJ spooned some soup into his mouth. “Thank you.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how close are you two to quitting your jobs today?” Sophie asked as she sat down at their table. “Because I’m an eleven.”

“I’m a five,” DJ replied as David and Van also joined them at the table, lunches in hand.

“Rake needs to do a better job of fluffing your ego if you think you’re only a five,” David said.

Rake frowned at David, unsure whether to be offended at the insult to himself, annoyed with the flirting, or pleased that David had complimented DJ.

“On the quitting scale,” DJ clarified.

“Ah. I’m a seven, in that case.” David paused. “In both cases, actually.”

“I’m a solid four,” Van said as she sat herself down. “Having a good day so far.” She shifted her chair a little further away from Rake, making sure they weren’t touching. He appreciated how conscious she was of his touch aversion. Some others in the office hadn’t been as understanding.

David had been one of those people. After he’d clapped Rake on the back for the second time on the very first occasion that they’d met at after-work drinks, DJ had stepped in to have a quiet word.

Not that Rake couldn’t say something himself, but his autistic communication style tended towards blunt statements.

He’d been told on more than one occasion that he came across as rude in those types of situations.

DJ was much better at the whole peopling thing.

Rake didn’t have the energy to engage with someone as exhausting as David on a good day, and today wasn’t an especially good day. Whilst Rake might have accused DJ of being preoccupied with Shaun, he had also been turning the encounter over in his own mind all weekend.

He ate in silence as the others chatted around him about their work on the company’s next release—its first foray into console gaming from mobile apps—which would have most of them needing to work overtime for the next six months.

Van worked on Rake’s team in UX Design, and DJ worked with David in Game Design, whilst Sophie was in either the finance or marketing or HR team.

Rake couldn’t remember which, because she kept getting promoted into different departments.

“What are you guys up to this weekend?” Van asked Rake.

DJ, Sophie and David had moved on to talking about some reality series.

DJ had never seen an episode of the show, which Rake knew, though he gasped along to Sophie’s in-depth analysis of one contestant’s betrayal of another as if he had a personal stake in the matter.

“We’re going to DJ’s parents’ house,” Rake said.

“That sounds nice. Do you get on with them well?” Van kept her voice quiet.

She’d only joined the company recently, but had inserted herself into their newly dubbed Gaymers friendship circle, claiming they were too heavy on the G (Rake and David) and the B (DJ and Sophie), so had a clear vacancy in the L and the T positions she could fill.

She’d also been open about no longer speaking to her religious parents. Like Rake, Van was just another disowned queer kid in need of a welcoming tribe, so he understood what her question was really asking.

“DJ’s parents are nice,” Rake said. “But the family is very full on. Imagine twenty DJs all in one room and then turn the volume up. That’s what attending one of the Armstrong-Tomlinson gatherings is like.”

“It’s not that bad!” DJ interjected. “You always make my mum’s family sound mad when you describe them.”

“Your dad’s family are the mad ones.” It wasn’t the garrulous Tomlinsons—DJ’s Jamaican side of the family—that Rake had any issue with.

The Armstrong side—the English side of the family—were boisterous sports lovers who were obsessed with football to the point of insanity.

Saturdays were sacrosanct in the Armstrong-Tomlinson household.

Rake now point-blank refused to visit on weekends during the season. The cheers and jeers lasted far longer than ninety minutes and made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“Oh,” DJ said. “In that case, carry on. They’re all nutters.”

“How nuts?” Van asked .

DJ flapped his hand. “Not in the way you’re thinking. They follow the church of football. They’re supportive of me and Rake.”

“That’s cool,” Van said. For a second, Rake feared she might ask him about his own family. But she must have sensed his growing discomfort with the topic, as she asked them all if they’d played the latest big indie game release instead. An easier subject, for sure.

Rake reached his hand over the table and grabbed DJ’s, needing the contact. DJ’s blindingly white smile when Rake took his hand had his heart ready to burst from his chest.

“Ugh, you two are too freaking sweet. Stop it now or I’m gonna puke,” David said. Rake shot him a scowl.

DJ rubbed his thumb against Rake’s knuckles. “Babe, he’s kidding.”

“Obviously,” David said. “You’re just making me jealous. I want a Rake.”

“I’m taken.”

“Not you specifically. A Rake type.”

Rake glared at David, but DJ laughed. “Good. Cause you’re not getting my man.”

“Ooh, possessive much?” David said, eyebrows doing something wild on his forehead that Rake couldn’t quite decipher.

“Maybe a little,” DJ said.

“Just as long as you don’t start one of those cringe couple Instagram accounts,” Van said. “That would be a step too far.”

Sophie laughed louder than the joke deserved, and Rake noted how Van fluttered her eyelashes in response. Huh. He wondered if that had been going on for a while .

Rake watched as DJ picked up the bread roll he’d been ignoring, tearing a bit off the end and putting it in his mouth. A nibble wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

DJ huffed when he caught Rake eyeing him.

Rake didn’t care for the sass, but he didn’t mind having an excuse to torture DJ a little when they returned to the club later in the week. He’d make it good for both of them—focus on getting DJ out of his head.

Rake needed it too, especially as he thought again about Shaun. Rake hoped there would be no further incidents, but if it came to it, he wouldn’t mind getting the chance to have a prepared word with Lawrence.

Friday night really couldn’t come any sooner.

Rake strode into the club, DJ practically vibrating out of his skin beside him.

Rake had been teasing DJ all week about what he was in for that evening.

Whilst Rake took care to not show it outwardly, he was as keen as DJ to let off some steam.

Rake had been wound tight all day at work with deadlines, errors, and his incompetent manager all conspiring to test his patience.

He needed this.

The scent of leather and latex filling his nostrils. The groans of the other patrons. The sight of their bodies—some covered from head to toe, others fully nude, and everything in between.

Imperfections were all around him. Dynamics of every type. People of all genders. There was space for everyone here .

There were few places other than the club that Rake felt so accepted. It eased him into the right headspace, and he settled into his skin. Here, he didn’t struggle to express himself, or get frustrated when people didn’t act like he expected. Here, there were rules.

Except, of course, when people broke them.

Rake searched the main area to see if Shaun and Lawrence were there. He didn’t know how he’d interact with them if they were. Part of him wanted to seek Lawrence out and tell him exactly what he considered of his behaviour.

And Shaun… Well. Rake wanted to see Shaun for another reason entirely. DJ wasn’t the only one distracted by thoughts of the sub who’d looked up at Rake with desperation in his eyes. Not the nice kind of desperation, either—not the kind that Rake would wring out of DJ that evening.

DJ skipped ahead of Rake into the locker room, oblivious to the direction of Rake’s thoughts. “How do you want me, Sir?” DJ asked, already stripping out of his hoodie.

“Down to your shorts for now, sweetheart.”

Rake stood with his arms folded as DJ tore off his clothing piece by piece. Happy once DJ had followed his instruction, Rake took off his own shirt and jacket, remaining in his dark jeans and Doc Martens.