tagGay MaleUnleashed Pt. 01

Unleashed Pt. 01


This is a continuation of Jaxon and Deacon's story, following on from Trapped in the Outback. #dominance #submission #dating

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Deacon takes Jax on a date, and Jax faces three horny Aussies on a Ferris wheel.

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"I'm not sure about these pants."

I turned my back to the mirror and put my hands against my arse, then glanced back over my shoulder and lifted my eyebrows at the mirror. Hi there.

Leigh rolled her eyes. "Your arse looks fine!"

"Fine?" I asked. I didn't want it to look too flat, and the skinny chinos weren't creating quite the same effect as my usual black skinny jeans.

"Yes, I'm sure. You have a very enticing arse. Men will want to put their penises in it."

I grinned.

"I'm not sure about the shirt, either." I fingered the hem of it. I didn't usually wear shirts outside of work, and those were all the same dull grey, so I didn't have to think about what to wear when I went to see clients. But on hearing I was going on a proper date for the first time in over two years, Leigh had insisted on taking me shopping. And now I owned a casual shirt. I'd stopped at one; I didn't want to get excitable.

This shirt that Leigh had picked out for me was the colour of tobacco, and had a jacquard paisley pattern running through it in the same colour. It was a nice shirt. It just wasn't what I was used to wearing in my down time.

"He's going to love it," she said. "And it's not as if you're going to be wearing it for long."

I grinned wider. "Yeah. Yeeeah." I took a moment to imagine Deacon taking off my shirt.

I tucked the leather necklace Deacon had given me inside the collar of the shirt, the tin tag resting against my breastbone. A tag that read, Free. Every time I put it on, I remembered I was essentially still collared by him, and unless I pulled my mind away, it got me hard every time.

Leigh leaned back on the bed and watched me spray on cologne. Her short, dark hair was swept over one eyebrow, and she wore the twin of the silver earring I wore. She'd adopted me several years ago as a friend when I'd come to the country, and now acted as the sounding board for my sad excuse for a love life.

"Where's he taking you, again?" she said.

I finished fixing my now medium-length dark hair in place, and Googled the restaurant for her, handing her my phone. I'd never get tired of showing her that Deacon had booked a table at a restaurant where I recognised virtually nothing on the menu as food.

She nodded down at the pictures. "He definitely likes you."

I knew that. I knew it, and it filled me with the kind of nervous energy I imagined you'd get if you stuck your fingers in a light socket.

She frowned. "What did you say he did for a job?"

"Plant mechanic," I said. I took my phone back and pushed it into my pocket. I looked in the mirror again. "I look like such a douche."

She snorted. "Jax, the way you usually dress makes you look like a douche. Now, you just look like a cute little gay boy going to meet his boyfriend." She smirked, and I gave her a sarcastic smile.

"Thanks, for that."

"You're welcome."

Smirking bitch.

Calvin Harris came on the stereo and I couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up. I club-danced in a small circle, my phone in my hand. "I'm dating, I'm dating!"

She laughed at me. "Yeah, you are."


It'd been four weeks since I'd driven out to Deacon's farm and had the living shit scared out of me. He'd spent the night playing mind games and opening up my arse, and then surprised the hell out of me by saying he wanted to see me again.

I felt like a teenager again. Only, as a teenager, I'd mostly just sucked a lot of cock, while I dated girls who were oblivious to what I did out the back of the gymnasium.

This was something else. I could feel the shadow of my past relationship failures lifting, as Deacon kept insisting he wanted to know me. And fuck me. A lot. But not just fuck me. Despite how awkward I was at virtually everything we did together, he still showed an amazing willingness to appear in public with me.

This was technically only the fifth time I'd be seeing him in person, but as he travelled for work, we kept in contact via email. He sent me details of where he went, what he was working on. Who he met. How many cocks he didn't suck, how many arses he didn't fuck, because he only wanted to fuck me at this point.

Me. Fuck just me. I suspected he was lying, but I appreciated the fiction. After all, he was a beast. A primal, masculine, animalistic panther of a man. Dating a small British Longhair.

I'd agreed to cab out to the restaurant, as otherwise, by the time he finished up his work, got ready, and drove the hour back into the city, it'd be nine p.m before we got seated.

As the cab pulled up to the curb, I could see him standing outside waiting for me, and my gut wound itself into a knot. He still made me nervous, which was a good thing. It meant I wasn't getting bored. But I was slightly concerned the reason I wasn't getting bored, was that I had no idea what he was going to do with me, and I wasn't sure that was healthy.

Tonight he was wearing a dark green shirt over ink-blue jeans, and had a black jacket slung under his arm. I could tell he smelled nice just by looking at him.

He caught sight of me and walked over as I got out of the cab.

"Hey babe. You look fantastic."

He kissed me on the lips, and I flushed red, not expecting a public display of affection on a busy street. I felt as if everyone was staring at us, but a quick glance around showed that no one gave a fuck, except one guy who gave us both the glad eye as he walked past. He was cute.



"Shall we go in?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

As we waited by the counter to be seated, he glanced around.

"You been here before?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Nooo."

I did not go to places like this. When I went out, I headed for the darkest, seediest places I could find. Places I could hide. Places where my awkwardness and my aloneness were less obvious.

"New experience for us both then."

The hostess came back to us.

"Your table's ready. Right this way!"

As she led us to our table, my eyes were drawn to the sway of her arse, sheathed in a tight, black skirt. I pulled my eyes off her bum, and glanced up, inadvertently catching sight of a young guy cutting limes behind the counter in the open portion of the kitchen. He was gorgeous. Dark skinned, with a broad chest, and lips that looked full and inviting as he bent his head over his work.

I had to look away before he caught me staring. I focused back on the waitress, then glanced sideways at Deacon, and felt surrounded by unbearably attractive people.

Deacon had woken up my extant, but partially repressed, bisexuality (I hadn't slept with a woman in years), and I honestly just wanted to fuck everything. I was becoming my brother, I thought wryly, glad he was still back in London, and not here to see me like this.

For a brief moment, I imagined the waitress crawling under the table to suck me off while I kissed Deacon above her head, and felt the first stirrings of an erection.

"You okay, babe?" Deacon asked. He glanced down at my crotch with a smirk.

I snapped back to reality. "Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I'm great."

The waitress left us with menus to go and get some water, and I relaxed back in my chair, and looked around the restaurant.

We were fifty-fives stories up, seated next to floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city, burnt orange by the sunset. The place was lit with glass globes, suspended by cables from the ceiling, which cast a gold glow. In the middle of our table was a three-inch candle, surrounded by large, oval-shaped river stones.

I picked one of the stones up and hefted it in my hand, surprised to find it actually was a stone.

I held it out to Deacon. "A dragon egg, Khaleesi!"

He took it from me and examined it, then held it in front of my face. He rotated it so that the cylinder of the oval was pointing towards my mouth, and looked thoughtful.

Holding his gaze, I leaned forward and kissed the end of it, then gave it a long lick.

He laughed. "Jesus, Jax!"

"It was right in front of my face!"

"Is that all it takes?"

I didn't need to answer that.

He put the stone down, and both of us picked up our menus and tried to look as though I hadn't just been licking the table ornaments, as the waitress came back.

After she'd finished taking our drinks orders and left us alone again, Deacon leaned into me.

"Are you—imagining fucking her right now?"

I glanced at him, feeling my face flush red again. "No."

"Liar!" he hissed. "Are you on heat or something?"

I shrugged. "You unleashed me, didn't you."

He gave a snort of laughter. "If I'd known putting a collar on you would turn you into a salivating man-whore, I might have thought twice."

I went back to studying the menu. "Bullshit. You wanted a slut, and you got a slut."

"Yeah? That's what I want?"

I glanced up. "I could just pop under this table right now, if you like."

His eyes widened, and I went back to reading the menu.

He gripped my hand and pulled it against his bulge. His thick, hard bulge.

I raised an eyebrow, keeping my eyes on the menu. "Impressive. Does this mean you want to fuck the waitress too?"

He pressed my hand against his hardness. "Go fuck yourself."

I grinned and squeezed him through his jeans.

He let out a grunt and let go of my hand.

Looking at the menu, which had no prices next to anything, I had a feeling this meal was going to cost us more than my week's entire food budget. I hoped Deacon was okay with that. He'd said this was his treat, which was good of him, but it honestly didn't bother me either way who paid. I had the cash, but it was a nice gesture on his part.

"You know what you want?" he asked.

I pointed. "This."

"Wagyu ribeye with buttermilk, horseradish and fermented truffles, eh?"

"Yeah. Quite fond of a bit of steak."

"Couldn't find a burger on the menu?"

I gave him a pleasant smile.

He pointed to the lamb. "I'll have this, I think."

"What's a 'finger lime'?" I asked, reading the description. "That sounds odd. Doesn't that sound odd? And what's a 'lemon myrtle'?"

"Well, a finger lime's some kind of lime, I imagine," he said, "And lemon myrtle's a plant."

"A plant?" I said, rhyming 'plant' with 'ant', the way he did. "A plant?"

He shoved my shoulder as I smirked at him.

"You're the one with the weird accent, mate."

"Technically," I said, "as a colony, you're the ones who've butchered it."

He fell silent and his gaze grew serious. I went back to staring at the menu, nervous as to what he was thinking.


"Yeahp?" Still looking at the menu. Every bit of my attention on him.

"You know I really like you, eh? Like. I really like you."

Ohhhh fuck. Too much, too much, too much.

"Back in a sec," I said.

I shoved back my chair and made for the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall, then texted Leigh.

'I can't do this.'

There was a pause of perhaps ten seconds.

'What happened?'

'He said he likes me.'

My phone rang.

"What do you mean, he said he likes you?"

"I mean, he said he likes me!" I said, keeping my voice low. "What do I do? What does it mean?"

I could hear her rolling her eyes.

"So, he likes you. I thought we'd established that when he spent three hundred dollars on tyres just to fuck you, gave you his clothes, asked you out the following weekend, asked you out again the weekend after that, took you star-gazing in the middle of nowhere and didn't murder you, and then asked you out on a date to what may well be the most expensive restaurant in the city."

I was silent for a second. "But he said he likes me."

I could hear her composing herself to be patient with me. "Do you like him?"

"You know I do! That's the problem!"

She knew. She knew I fell for unavailable women, and men looking for a skinny submissive to play with. The only way I'd avoided disappointment, or ending up chained in some guy's dungeon, was avoiding women, and never seeing the same guy twice.

"Here's what you're going to do," she said. "Where are you now?"

"In the toilets."

"Of course you are. Go back to him, let him give you a lovely night, and if he wants you to do anything you don't want to do, don't do it."

"Oh, simple then," I said. "I'll just say 'no' shall I?"

"Jax, my sweet, at some point you're going to have to learn how to assert yourself with these guys, or you're never going to have the kind of relationship you want."

"I didn't want this one," I said. "I didn't expect him to become a full on fucking... boyfriend."

"What's so awful about that?"

"I don't know! He's too... pretty. It doesn't make any sense. And he's not a complete arsehole. Why is he into me?"

She sighed.

"I can't give you self esteem while you're trapped in a restaurant toilet. You're going to have to figure this out for yourself."

I slumped against the cistern. "Can't."

She laughed.

I heard the bathroom door open, and Deacon's voice, speaking low. "Jax? You in there? You okay?"

"Is that Deacon?" asked Leigh. "Okay, look, don't stress. Have a great night—if he tries to sell your body on the street, tell him to fuck off, but otherwise, just relax!" She made kissy noises into the phone and hung up.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and got up off the toilet. "Out in a second."

I flushed and then unlocked the stall door, making straight for the sink to wash my hands. I hated touching things in public bathrooms.

"You not well?"

"No, I'm fine. Just needed to relieve myself." I wasn't sure why I said it like that, except saying I was taking a crap, while on a date, just seemed distasteful.

I faced him as I dried my hands with a paper towel.

"I'm not... coming on too strong for you, am I?" he asked.

I looked down at the paper towel. "Nope."

"Can you look me in the eye when you say that?"

I kept my eyes on the paper towel. "Nope."

He took it from me and tossed it into the wastepaper bin.

"But... you are into me, yeah?" he asked.

Holy fuck, really?

I finally met his gaze. Those olive-green eyes. I avoided a lot of eye contact with him, because it felt too intense most of the time. But I liked his eyes. There was a lot going on in there. More than I was comfortable with.

"Yeah, I'm definitely into you," I said, dropping my gaze again.

He bit his lower lip and smiled at me. "Cool."

I laughed. "Cool?"

"Yeah, don't fucking mock me, you prick, or I'll shove you back in that stall and fuck the shit outa ya."

I put my hands on his shoulders and kissed him. "You have such a pretty mouth, Deacon."

The door to the toilets swung open and we broke apart. "Shall we not kiss in the toilets?" I said, and the guy who'd entered glanced at us as he took his place at the urinal.

"Yeah. Be out in a sec. I'm just going to take a piss."


"Fuck off."

I smirked and left the bathroom.

I went back to the table and sipped my wine while I looked out over the city. All those glittering lights. All that life, going on, out there. Couples. People paired off, making kids, recycling, taking photos of sunsets on their phones, commenting on each other's Facebook posts, buying small, fluffy dogs. Creating lives together where they saw each other every day.

Could I really do that? Did I even want that?

Deacon reappeared and dropped back into his seat. He gave me a sharp look. "Be honest. Were you having a wank in there?"


He grinned. "I did."

"Thanks for sharing that."

The waitress came back to our table. "Are you two ready to order?"

After dinner, as we stood waiting for the lift, I had an idea. I checked the time on my phone.

"Let's see if we can get on the Observation Wheel. You ever been?"

He shook his head. "You?"

"Not yet."

He looked dubious. "You don't just want to go back to your flat?"

No, no, I didn't. He might try and talk to me, and I was happy, I didn't want to ruin it.

The lift arrived and I caught his hand. "Come up into the sky with me, babe."

A smile played on his lips. "Is it private?"

I shook my head. "Not unless we pay three hundred and fifty dollars."

He sputtered. "For a fucking Ferris wheel ride?"

I nuzzled against his neck as the lift came to a halt. "Come up into the sky with me. Babe."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine. But I am gonna fuck you tonight. You're not gettin' out of it."

"Oh no, please, no," I said, and he laughed.

I caught the elbow of his jacket as we got out of the lift. "Come on. Come on, we've got fifteen minutes to get there!"

We caught a cab, and jumped out with minutes to spare.

As we approached the entry platform, a group of three lads was already waiting. Deacon was holding my hand, and I tried to pull my fingers away from his before they noticed, but he kept hold of me.

I glanced at him, but he pretended not to notice how tense I was as we reached them.

If I'd been on my own, I would have been fine. But Deacon and I were clearly a couple, and they looked as if they'd just been watching the footy. I knew their type. Full of beer, shirts stretched tight across their pecs, hands in their jeans' pockets.

They fell silent and stared at us, as the attendant started checking their tickets.

We were still a few metres away when one of them, a guy with short, dark hair, wearing a maroon shirt, leaned into the attendant and said something to him. The attendant looked up at us. He said something back, and the guy handed him what looked like a folded up twenty.

"You know what, we should go back to my place," I said to Deacon.

He still had hold of my hand.

"No, no, I want to go into the sky with you, babe," he said, giving me a mocking smile.

I was very close to saying 'please', when the wheel came to a halt, the cabin lined up with the platform.

The attendant opened the door, and ushered us in.

I had a knot in my stomach as we followed the three men into the cabin. I assumed this was Deacon's stubbornness to never back down, but I had this image of the cabin coming back to the ground with the windows streaked with blood.

The cabin was several metres across, with a long bench in the centre. The three lads took their seats, while I walked over to the windows with Deacon to watch our ascent, pretending they weren't there as they laughed and joked about whatever bollocks they'd been up to that night.

As the doors shut behind us, I heard a murmur from the bench behind us, and quiet laughter.

My face burned red, my back prickling at the thought that they were taking the piss out of us. But we were stuck with them for the next half an hour, climbing up 120m into the sky. Two of us, three of them.

We were halfway through the ascent when I thought I heard the word 'faggot'. My shoulders tensed and I rose up an inch taller. I heard the word again, accompanied with a snigger. Deacon squeezed my hand, but I spun around.

"Sorry, is there a problem?"

"Is there a problem?" Red shirt mocked me. "Where you from, mate, Shakespeare?"

"Shakespeare's not a place, is it? You fucking knob," I said, and he laughed.

Beside me, Deacon turned around and leaned against the metal railing behind him.

Red shirt got to his feet. Behind him, his mates, one in a large blue checks, and the other wearing a navy shirt with folded back checked cuffs, just watched, as he strolled up to me, his hands in his pockets.

He leaned against the metal railing on the other side of me from Deacon.

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