Page 27 of Courting Danger

Wish granted.

Danger cupped the back of his neck, giving a gentle squeeze that nearly made his knees buckle. It seemed like they’d gotten there just in time, too. Pope had positioned Ocean in front of him, the same way Danger had done with Roan, so he and Ocean hadn’t let go of one another’s hands, and Roan really didn’t want to, even if there was a barrier of leather between them. Ocean’s paw was smooth and soft, perfect for running his fingers over.

In the water, every time he’d felt afraid, Ocean had made him feel like that was okay, even while making sure Roan knew he was safe. No one had ever done that for him before. He was used to hiding his fears and keeping them buried so no one coulduse them against him. His grandparents’ home wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and the only real supervision involved had been making sure he’d had his butt at the table at six for supper and money for breakfast and lunch in the school cafeteria at the start of every week. The kids he hung around with had it much the same way, so they’d pretty much raised themselves and each other and learned to keep off the radar of overworked adults who had more important things to worry about than the petty bullshit they got into.

Sometimes, keeping up with his more fearless friends had been a challenge until he’d learned to leap after them and hope things would turn out okay. Sometimes they didn’t, and he’d crashed and burned. He’d given his grandparents’ first aid kit a real workout with some of the stunts they’d pulled, but the cops had never shown up at the door, so no harm, no foul.

There were times he’d wished someone had cared, though. That was all he’d ever wanted, not stuff, not even a skateboard, though it would have been cool to hit the skatepark with his friends.

No, no gloomy thoughts, not tonight.

He gently squeezed Ocean’s paw, and Ocean turned his head, green eyes shadowed by the pup gear he had on. Roan couldn’t tell if he was smiling, but Roan was and leaned in to press his head against Ocean’s since they were almost the same height. At just under 6 feet tall, they weren’t the shortest ones in the room but compared to some of the giants like Kong and Wreck, Roan always felt tiny.

Roan watched, fascinated, as a man who stood at least a half foot shorter than him finished setting up the wand and arranging his much larger partner on the table, naked, save for the tattoos etched into his skin. Roan had seen him from time to time, when he was picking up monthly reports. He was a welder at the metal fabrication shop and usually towered over him.

Seeing him splayed out, relaxed and completely unashamed, reminded Roan of all the screwed-up ideas he’d had about the roles people played in different dynamics. The Jokers cared only about who was into what and that everyone was consenting. There were female and non-binary club members just as badass as the guys, reminding him of some of his tomboy friends from back home.

Someone dimmed the lights as Scoundrel used black light paint sticks to draw swirls on the big man’s skin. When he finally sparked the wand, the paint glowed brighter every time he drew the wand over those spots.

Roan had imagined a grimace, not a soft exhale, to be the result of having the wand touched to his shoulder, yet the man on the table looked completely at ease and even shivered when the man flicked the wand over another spot.

“Lowest setting,” Scoundrel declared, before adjusting something on the wand.

This time, when he touched his partner, the man’s breath hissed when he sucked it in and his body jerked.

“Middle setting.”

Maybe it wasn’t so relaxing after all, Roan thought when Scoundrel adjusted the knob again, drawing a whimper from the man when he touched his ass with it.

“Highest,” Scoundrel declared. “Now we go through them one by one, and you’ll see how much fun it can be.”

The man’s voice was gruff and to the point when he spoke, but there was nothing hard about the way he studied the man on the table or talked to him as the demonstration got underway. Roan’s gaze swept to a collection of instruments lying on a bench, within easy reach, whenever Scoundrel needed them. One of them looked like a mini flogger made out of tinsel, and there was a small container of chunky glitter lying right beside it. Roan couldn’t wait to see what Scoundrel did with them.

It was cool to see that he didn’t rush for the benefit of the audience. When he spoke, his words were as much for his partner as they were for the people watching them. When the man rolled over, Scoundrel zapped his nipple, and the man’s back bowed.

Must have been on a hard setting then.

Or did it really feel that good?

“Do you think that feels good?” Roan hissed in Ocean’s ear, hoping no one else overheard them.

“I hope so,” Ocean whispered. “I want to try it.”

Everything Scoundrel did led to the action that followed. Roan followed the rhythm like it was a song, noting the way the shocks built in speed and intensity. It was no longer about teaching anymore; it was about pleasuring his partner and putting on a show.

Scoundrel had tucked the wand into the waistband of his pants again. Earlier he’d explained that it electrified his body, therefore electrifying everything he touched.

Including the metal wheel he ran over the top of the man’s thigh.

Squirming, hips rocking, the man seemed to be both chasing the feel of it and trying to get away from it. Ocean’s paw tightened on Roan’s hand, and Roan glanced over to see Ocean leaning in to get a better look.

Gasps flowed freely from the man’s lips in between cries when Scoundrel ran the wand over his nipples or cock. Roan’s cock twitched in his shorts, going from half hard to fully erect, forcing him to bite back a moan. Danger squeezed the back of his neck again and dragged his finger along the pulse point beneath Roan’s ear, helping him relax. It didn’t surprise him to catch movement out of the corner of his eye and see Pope doing the same thing to Ocean.

The same rhythm too; for a moment, Roan stood memorized, watching Pope’s hand move beneath the edge of Ocean’s headgear, yet feeling the same slow drag along his own skin.

The man on the table let out a broken sob, and Roan whipped his head back around to see what was happening.

Sparks arched when Scoundrel used the tinsel floggers, crackling when Scoundrel threw glitter on his partner, shiny bits covering him from nipples to thighs. The man’s cock was so hard the head was purple, dribbles of precum dripping from the tip, more pumping out with every shock.