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him. In that nervous gesture Charles had recognized earlier, Spencer pulled the strands back and tucked them behind his ear. His eyes were large, his pupils dilated. Charles was pleased that regardless of the topic, it seemed as if Spencer was at least still turned on.
    “I won’t be humiliated,” Spencer said, his voice thick. “And for now, let’s say anything that really pushes the envelope is probably off limits. At the club I saw these people strapped to some devices, like crosses, getting whipped. That’s way too far for me. And by humiliation, there was this woman who had to crouch on the floor, holding her pussy open with her own hands so everyone could see her cream while she literally begged to lick her Dom’s boots. I don’t mind being uncomfortable, but the thought of being pushed over that line makes me angry, and I can’t say I’d stand for it. And like you said, it would totally ruin the mood for me.”
    Charles knelt up so he was level with Spencer’s waist. He reached to unbutton Spencer’s pants and pushed them to the floor. Brightly patterned boxers were revealed, a colorful, vibrant splash that was as cheerful as Spencer’s soul itself. Charles nodded. The underwear matched its owner perfectly.
    “Let me be honest. While I’d love to have you worked up, insensate and begging for my cock and possession in your every orifice, I’m not interested in doing it in public,” he said. “I don’t need to show you off. I have no desire to bandy about the privacy of our bedroom for others to see and be seduced by it. And while one day—way in the future—I might want to discuss openly with you some more exotic forms of kink, it will never be while we’re both raring to go, without discussion. Is that acceptable to you?”
    “I can live with that,” Spencer said. He took Charles by surprise and knelt, straddling his thighs. “You have far too many clothes on. If you were a rough man, a hard, unfeeling one, you’d have just taken me by now and to hell with my baggage or feelings. I’m here and I trust you. So get moving.”
    Charles chuckled and kissed him hard.
    “One day I will just take you,” he promised darkly. “Rough and hard, to hell with your feelings. I’ll fuck you into the wall or floor—wherever the mood strikes me. But this time, I’d like to start in my bed.”
    Spencer stood up and Charles followed him. Leading the way to his bedroom, Charles had to hide his smile as Spencer looked around, seeming interested in his home. It was nothing much, a fairly standard bachelor pad, albeit a clean one. Charles had never been one to live in squalor, but as he got older he found he appreciated clean surfaces and neatness more than his average friend did. There was a large couch, a TV and decent-sized entertainment unit.
    There were two bookshelves crammed with an assortment of books, everything from biographies to fiction, Australian history and travel. A sharp eye might notice a larger than usual collection of werewolf and shifter literature. Charles could never help himself, he was always intrigued as to what the newest theories on such matters were.
    They went down the hall and Charles paused outside his bedroom. He nodded to the next door.
    “That’s the bathroom if you need it,” he offered. When Spencer shook his head, Charles stepped aside and let him enter first. Bending down, Charles removed his surplus army boots and socks. He quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs, naked in a few seconds.
    He followed Spencer into the room. Charles cast a quick look about, glancing with fresh eyes. Grateful that he was neat by nature, he didn’t see anything to be embarrassed by. The enormous bed took up most of the space, with a bedside table on each end. The closet was built in to the wall and a window looked out onto his postage stamp-sized back yard. Apart from a glass of water, a box of tissues and a few scattered personal items, the room was spartan but lived in.
    For a moment,