Gomorrah: Bonded

Gomorrah: Bonded
Elizabeth Jewell
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Elizabeth Jewell

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Rumors had run rampant about the bar on Colfax in downtown Denver for years. Ian had been hearing about it since his senior year of high school, when he came out to his parents and took Roy to the prom. But, two years into college at DU, Roy had decided he really wasn't gay after all and had married some girl named Jo Ellen so fast Ian had assumed there was a shotgun involved. There wasn't, of course, but Ian heard later that a Fundamentalist minister and some sort of "reparative therapist," whatever the fuck that meant, had seen quite a lot of Roy before Roy had decided Ian was no longer his cup of tea.

In any case, Ian was still bitter. Which was at least one reason why he was standing by the front door of Gomorrah, wondering if he really, truly had the balls to go inside what was rumored to be one of the kinkiest sex clubs in the city.

Ian was gay but he wasn't into cruising, picking up dudes for one-night stands or getting high and fucking anything he could get his hands on. That had always seemed a little perverted to him. He believed in finding that just-right guy and settling down with a couple of dogs and maybe some adopted kids. Or at least he had. Then Roy's experience had shown him there were a lot of other ways to pervert people. Checking out what Gomorrah had to offer -- just once -- seemed like not that big a deal.

Which of course was why he'd been standing here for fifteen minutes trying to decide if he was really, truly going to go inside.

Ian was so absorbed in his own thoughts, and his inability to make a decision, that he jumped when the door to the club opened. He recognized the man who emerged as a bouncer who'd been watching him off and on for the last several minutes. When the time had moved from 8:59 to 9:00, he'd gone inside. Now he came down the few steps from the door, shrugging into a black leather jacket and giving Ian another curious look.

"You on your own, kid?"

The guy was barely older than Ian, in his late twenties, maybe, but somehow the "kid" didn't rankle. Much.

Ian shrugged, thinking it was kind of a creepy question. "I'm allowed to stand here, right?"

The bouncer grinned. In spite of his size -- he had a couple of inches on Ian and maybe twenty pounds, all of it muscle -- Ian didn't find him all that menacing when he grinned.

"It's not illegal, but it's not the best idea. Not the best idea going in there on your own, either." He seemed a bit more sober at this last.

"I can take care of myself." Ian was shooting for self-assured, but it came out closer to petulant.

"Yeah, I bet you can." Ian wasn't sure if the other man was mocking him or not. "Tell you what. I could use a drink. I'll take you in."

Ian hesitated. The guy seemed genuine enough. On reflection, he wasn't even all that creepy. He was big, with a shaved head and the edge of some kind of tribal tattoo peeking out from under his collar, but somehow he seemed safe. Maybe Ian was just being naïve and dumb, but he'd gotten this far trusting his instincts. He nodded.

"Cool," said the bouncer. "I'm Nick." He held out his hand.

Ian took it. The grip was firm, the hand itself big enough to engulf Ian's. "Ian."

Nick nodded. "Okay, one thing before we go in." His expression had sobered. "Everything you've heard about this place, all the stuff you're sure is pure bullshit? It's all true."

On that ominous note, he turned and led the way back up the stairs.