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Chapter 6

Thank you for taking the time to read my revised victim statement. Since the date of my original statement (25 September), the crime has affected my life in several additional ways.

Sipping his third coffee of the morning, Colin frowned at the words he’d just scrawled on the form in front of him. They sounded stilted, like a primary school pupil’s first essay, nothing like the profanity-laced rant he’d started drafting two days ago. But he knew the judge would, well, judge him by his language, and that Jeremy’s statement would be eloquent and refined. Colin had to convey what those bastards had stolen from him without sounding a pure nutter.

He continued copying text from his open laptop on the dining table beside him. After the initial laparotomy, I had two abdominal laparoscopic surgeries. Each operation had a longer recovery than its predecessor. My spleen and gallbladder are gone. Without a spleen I am vulnerable to infection for the remainder of my life.

Colin winced as he stretched his fingers, which were cramping fiercely. It was ridiculous that victims had to fill in these forms by hand instead of electronically. But perhaps this method was meant to stop them banging on endlessly about their crime-induced woes.

As mentioned in my original statement, I missed an entire trimester at Glasgow Caledonian University. What I failed to mention in September was that I used to be a starting forward for a prominent amateur football club, the Woodstoun Warriors. Not until December did I resume cardio fitness training, and not until yesterday (10 January) did I play in a match again. My lack of stamina resulted in an early departure (I fainted), leaving my team vulnerable.

Colin paused again, thinking of Andrew’s suggestion that he go back to his old team in the gay league. He’d rejected it yesterday, but lying awake last night—alone, after Andrew had passed out on the couch in another alcohol-fueled stupor—he’d found himself lost in nostalgia.

Those days with Glasgow Greens FC had been pure fun. Opponents and their fans never called the Greens names or looked at them with disgust for who they were and who they loved. If he returned, Colin would never have to fight for his place in the starting eleven—in fact, he’d probably once again lead the league in goals scored and assisted. He’d be safe there.

His laptop’s swirling-light screensaver came on, indicating he’d been lost in thought for at least five minutes. Returning to the victim statement form, he scribbled over the words I fainted until they were illegible.

Lest you think it’s but a game, I must state that football brings great meaning to my life. Nothing makes me feel more strong and competent. So my loss of fitness has had profound negative emotional and psychological consequences.

Colin’s hand was cramping again, but he kept writing, no longer copying from the screen.

It’s like I can’t depend on my own body anymore. It was the one wee thing in life I thought I could control, and now that control has been stolen. I used to get angry when people acted like I might shatter any moment. But maybe they’re right.

“Good morning.” Andrew entered the reception room, tousling his damp hair. He was wearing the red silk kimono that accentuated his toned thighs. “I thought I’d take us out for breakfast.”

Colin blinked at him, then looked down at the sheet, wondering how much more he would’ve revealed if Andrew hadn’t come in. “It’s nearly noon already. Besides, you promised you’d fill in your new victim statement.” He gestured to the blank form on the other side of the table. “We could go out for a wee dram afterward as a reward.”

“It’s not after filling it in that I’ll need a drink, it’s before.” Andrew headed for the cupboard where he kept the spirits.

“Stop.”

Andrew froze, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the cupboard door. “Sorry?”

“What’s got into you lately?”

Andrew dropped his hand but kept his back to Colin. “What do you mean?”

“The other day, when I put your empty champagne bottle in the recycling bin, I saw—” Colin took a quick, shallow breath. “I saw loads of bottles I’d never drunk from.”

“You drink much less than the average Scotsman.”

Colin had a ready answer. “But I put out the recycling every week, so I know how much is usually in there, and?—”

“The recycling’s not collected during the holidays,” Andrew said, still not looking at him. “The contents of the bin could be misleading.”

“The recycling is collected during the holidays, just not on the same days. They sent a schedule in the post.” His words came faster as he stated his case. “I took out the recycling and rubbish on time, which meant the bin was empty until you filled it with bottles—bottles you must have drunk from while I was asleep or at training session, because I don’t remember them.”

He paused his diatribe when he realized Andrew was no longer interrupting him. He was just staring at the floor with a lifeless gaze.

Colin’s stomach clenched. Is this when we fall apart? It had to happen sooner or later. His whole life had been a series of earthquakes and aftershocks, with short periods of stability in between. I knew we were too good to last.

“You know how it is,” Andrew said in a chilling monotone. “During the holidays one grows accustomed to overindulging. And January is so very dark and cold. One needs…something to get through it.”

“I’m worried about you.” Colin rose slowly and went to him. He had to be careful or Andrew would shut down—or maybe even chuck him out of his flat for good. But Colin had always been crap at diplomacy. “You’ve been different since Hogmanay. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been ill. I was so knackered from exams and the holidays and the wedding, it’s no wonder that virus got its claws into me.”

Colin took Andrew’s hand. It felt chilled against his palm, so he rubbed it gently, then brought it to his lips. They’d always been honest with each other—often painfully so. If Andrew was lying now, then what did that say about them?

“Come and sit.” He guided Andrew toward the dining table. “We’ll fill in your statement now, get it over with so we can enjoy our day. You’ll feel good after it’s done.” Colin sat down and gave him a pleading look, wondering how to probe for the truth without driving an even bigger wedge between them.

Andrew pulled out the chair on the other side of the table, touched the blank form bearing his name, then pushed it away.

“I’ve a better idea.” Andrew turned on his heel and headed for the reception room door. He paused at the threshold, then, without looking back, removed his kimono and dropped it on the floor as he moved out of sight. Colin caught a glimpse of his naked body.

Nearly naked body, that is. There’d also been a flash of what Colin swore was black leather.

“Andrew.”

“Yes?” came a voice from the hallway, laced with false innocence.

“What are you wearing, exactly?”

“Something new,” Andrew said. “Come and see.”

Colin placed his palms on the table to steady himself. Andrew’s recent strange behavior was breaking fresh ground today. Keep the head , he cautioned. Keep the head.

But the thought of leather lying against that perfect skin brought back memories of their early days, when Andrew would submit to Colin, handing over the power he held in real life. When sex had been play instead of a celebration of not being dead.

Those days were so far in the past, they seemed to belong to different men. Their encounter on the castle tower had given Colin hope they could be those men again, this time without the old barriers of fear and mistrust.

He leapt to his feet and hurried to follow, his ankles stiff from yesterday’s match. When he stepped over the discarded kimono lying on the threshold, he saw the guest bedroom door was open.

Colin went and peered inside, expecting to find Andrew waiting for him on the bed. But he saw no one.

A soft sigh came from his left, behind the door. He moved it to see Andrew standing in the corner, facing the wall, hands behind his back, one set of fingers folded around his opposite wrist.

On his otherwise naked body was a black leather harness. Its silver buckles gleamed, even in the low light. Two straps went halfway down his back, then split off, returning below to cup his unconscionably round cheeks.

Andrew’s chin tilted down and to the side. “You fancy?”

Colin could barely pull in enough air for a single “Aye.” He took a step closer and noticed the harness’s fastenings were all in the back. “However did you get yourself into that thing?”

“I’m very flexible.”

This was true. After seven years of advanced yoga, Andrew could buckle his sandals with his teeth whilst doing a handstand. Sex with him always held the potential to become a Cirque du Soleil act.

“Why are you standing in the corner?”

“Because I’ve been a bad boy.”

Colin recognized in Andrew’s singsong tone the start of a play session, something they’d not done since…God, had it been August ?

“You are bad.” Colin moved close, whispering in his ear without touching him. “You’re the worst.”

Andrew shivered. “Yes.” His eyelids drifted shut. “You should punish me.”

Colin’s cock stiffened inside his tracksuit pants, and it took all his restraint to keep from grinding against Andrew’s body. But this was the stage where they set the rules, before things got too heated.

He slid his finger up the center strap of Andrew’s harness, then hooked it inside the ring and gave a slight tug, a hint of what was to come. “And how shall I punish you?”

Andrew shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Colin cleared his throat. Andrew was much more experienced at this sort of play, so he usually set the limits, which began with no hitting whatsoever . “So, are we talking tease and denial?” He’d always loved that—making Andrew almost come again and again, hearing him beg for release, and then, after finally giving it to him, watching him sink into that long, deep post-orgasmic stupor.

“Surprise me,” Andrew said again.

Colin looked at the bed, where a trio of straps lay across the white duvet. “I assume you want to be tied up?”

“Surprise me,” Andrew said for a third time.

Colin took a step back. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. “Usual rules, then? Treat you rough but no spanking and all, right?”

Andrew bowed his head. “No rules,” he whispered. “No limits.”

Colin felt a flicker of frustration at getting all the responsibility—and thus all the blame if something went wrong. “Can we at least agree on the safe word? Our old friend ‘foosball’?”

“If you must. I won’t be using it. I’ve never had to.”

“Because I’ve always known what you wanted. I need a clue here.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Andrew said with a huff. “Just forget it.” He moved past Colin toward the door. “I’ll put on some clothes and we’ll have a lovely Sunday filling in forms.”

Perhaps it was Andrew’s haughtiness that woke Colin’s instincts, or perhaps it was the presence of moving prey.

“No.” He seized Andrew’s harness as he passed, then yanked him back against his chest. “You’re going nowhere.”

A tremor ran through Andrew’s body, and his voice was breathy as he said, “Get your hands off me.”

“I don’t think so.” Colin pushed Andrew ahead of him toward the bed, then threw him face down on the snow-white covers. In an instant he was straddling Andrew’s back, holding him down while reaching for a strap to restrain him.

Andrew’s arms stretched out as if to grapple for the edge of the mattress to pull himself away. It was a move Colin remembered well, and the fact it brought his wrists together was no coincidence. He bound them with the strap, the leather so new it creaked as he tightened it.

Andrew suddenly stiffened. Colin paused, checking to see he wasn’t crushing him. “You all right?” he asked in a normal tone.

“No,” Andrew said. “But I deserve this.”

Andrew’s body was tense, which told Colin they should stop. Everything about this scene rang wrong. In the past, they’d used bindings made of silk, not leather. Even their roughest play had an air of luxury, and Andrew’s fake protests had always held a slight smirk.

Still, he’d yet to utter the safe word. Andrew would always get exasperated when Colin used to stop at the sound of the word no . “Sometimes no means yes,” Andrew had lectured him repeatedly. “Only the safe word means no.”

“You do deserve it,” Colin said now. “And more.”

He got up, retrieving one of the other straps, and went to the foot of the bed where Andrew couldn’t see him. There he seized Andrew’s ankles and held them together.

Andrew’s legs jerked in response, hard enough to challenge Colin but not hard enough to pull free.

“Keep still,” Colin said through gritted teeth as adrenaline coursed through him. He could feel himself getting harder, even as doubt laced his mind.

“Make me.” Andrew kept writhing. “Teach me not to move.”

“How?”

“How do you think?” Andrew said in a Don’t be an idiot tone. “Use the strap.”

Confused, Colin looked at the strip of leather in his hand. “I cannae hit you, so what does that leave?”

“Nothing.” Andrew kicked out, harder than ever. “Obviously.”

Was he saying…? Oh.

If I’m wrong about this, he’s going to kill me.

He raised the strap, aimed carefully, and brought it down across Andrew’s bottom. The thwack made Colin jerk back in surprise.

Andrew fell still, then his muscles went limp. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

No, I’m sorry. Colin stared at the pink marks on Andrew’s backside. As many times as he’d longed to smack those perfect, perky cheeks, the reality made him a bit queasy.

Still, it seemed to have been what Andrew wanted, so Colin proceeded to bind his ankles. Then he crawled atop Andrew’s legs, still fully clothed himself. With a firm tug on the harness, he said, “Up on your knees.”

Andrew lifted his arse, keeping his forehead on the mattress between his splayed elbows. Colin gazed at the sight before him. The black harness hugged Andrew’s sinewy contours, making him appear simultaneously wild and contained.

How did I get here? Colin wondered for at least the hundredth time. What did I do to deserve this work of art?

Without touching him, Colin leaned down and brought his lips near the base of Andrew’s spine. His mouth watered at the scent of leather mixed with bare skin.

He noticed the room had fallen silent. In the past, when Colin had made Andrew wait to be touched or kissed, he’d responded with impatient whimpers and barely stifled urgings. Now the only sound was Andrew’s quick, shallow breaths.

Maybe he was bored. Colin took the harness by both hands, immobilizing Andrew’s hips. “Where shall I lick you first?”

Andrew didn’t answer, but then again, he wasn’t supposed to.

Colin flicked his tongue against his left cheek, then the right one, reveling in the way Andrew’s entire body trembled with need. He knew his boyfriend adored this sadistic teasing, loved giving up all control and putting himself at Colin’s mercy.

Or at least he had loved it months ago, before Colin lost the strength to restrain him, before he became a fragile thing in Andrew’s eyes, as delicate and precious as those champagne glasses.

But Colin was fragile no more, despite how yesterday’s match had ended. His collapse had left him looking weak in front of this man, the one he most needed to be strong for.

Andrew began to struggle, trying to shove his hips back, no doubt eager for more. Colin’s biceps burned with the effort to hold him fast.

All at once Andrew stopped pushing. Instead he lurched to the left, toppling onto his side and drawing up his knees to lie in the fetal position.

Colin sat up, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

His boyfriend’s face was hidden behind his arm, his wrists still bound above his head. But he was so still, so silent…

Colin crawled up and pushed Andrew’s arm aside. “Are you all?—”

His voice died when he saw Andrew’s tears.

“Foosball,” Colin said, though it felt far too late.