Chapter Text
*~*~* HARRY*~*~*
The pulsing music coming from the main floor of the club, shivered through the walls and floor, vibrating up Harry's legs before filling his chest, his heartbeat throbbing in time with the heavy beat. He could hear more people entering the entry way of the club behind him, but his eyes were drawn to the heavy black door in front of him.
"You okay?" Zayn asked, nudging his shoulder as they moved closer to the check-in desk standing between the line of people trying to get in and the thick black door separating them from the pulsing music.
Sucking on his lower lip, Harry watched the couple in front of them step to the desk. As the woman neared the desk, she passed over a black card, while Harry idly wondered how she could breathe in the tight corset cinched around the leather dress that was painted onto her body. Behind her stood a man about Harry's age (if he had to guess). Harry took in the leather pants the man was wearing, and the way his chain chest harness glinted in the light of the foyer. The mans eyes slowly grazed up Harry's body, making Harry's cheeks burn at the way he was being studied. The thinly veiled judgement dug into Harry's already frayed emotions, tiny barbs that itched and stung, accompanied by the man's quiet sneer. Harry had been measured and found wanting -- for what he wasn't quite sure. For a moment he wondered if the sheer black shirt with embroidered flowers was too much for the venue, especially paired with simple, but fairly tight, skinny jeans.
"I think I'm under-dressed," he muttered to Zayn, as his best friend rifled through his wallet and pulled out a black card identical to the one the woman in front of them had handed to the clerk. "Or well, over-dressed. Maybe I should, I dunno... take off my shirt?"
Glancing in the direction Harry had been looking, Zayn chuckled and shook his head. "You're fine mate. The dress code is simple - black clothing, fetish gear or lingerie," he said, nudging Harry toward the check-in desk.
The couple in front of them slipped through the heavy door, a wave of sound washing into the foyer area and momentarily distracting Harry from the sting of being judged. Zayn handed his card to the woman behind the desk, chatting quietly with her in a way that was at once familiar, but detached. She smiled and scanned the card, peering up at Harry from behind a veil of blonde hair that fell across her forehead. Returning her attention to Zayn, she him a form to fill-in, leaving Harry alone with his second-thoughts about being there in the first place.
Harry was torn. On the one hand he wanted desperately to go through the door and hopefully find something that would help him get rid of the horrible anxiety that was crawling under his skin, making him feel edgy and off-balance. On the other hand, if he was honest with himself, he was scared out of his wits by the very idea. After what had happened in Glasgow, the idea of trusting anyone enough to play seemed impossible.
"Maybe I'm not ready for this yet, Zee."
"You're over-thinking things, Harry. It's been six months. Time to get back on the horse." Zayn slid a sheet of paper toward Harry with a pen. "Sign this. You already know the rules. They're the same rules as Mephisto's in Manchester."
On auto-pilot Harry signed his name, not bothering to read the list of club rules. He knew Mephisto's rules forward and backward. They both did. Mephisto was the first club they had joined as soon as Harry turned 18 and was old enough to get in the door.
Of course, they joined together. They were best friends. They did everything together.
On his first day at the kindergarten, Harry managed to get on the wrong side of the year two bullies by daring to stand up for a girl who had been pushed off a swing. They chased him through the play yard, cornering him at the far end by the fence. Slamming him into the chain link fence, they ripped at his clothes and pummeled him, knocking him to the ground. Refusing to cry out, Harry curled up, instinctively using his arms protect his head. As one readied to kick Harry, a slight, dark-haired boy with a deep tan and mahogany eyes popped up between Harry and the bully. Despite being not much bigger than Harry, the dark-haired boy shoved the bully back, giving him an earful, before kicking his legs out from under him.
"Oi! Get off 'im or I'll pound ya!"
The bullies growled, but surprisingly scattered. In the next instant the dark-haired boy whirled on Harry, a warm glow in his eyes as he held out a hand to help Harry up.
"C'mon mate. Up y'get," he said with a grin, tugging Harry to his feet easily. "I'm Zayn."
And from that moment on they had been inseparable.
Despite Zayn being a grade ahead of Harry, they did everything together. Studied for exams. Played sports. If one of them developed an interest in a hobby, the other embraced it too. They even went on a (somewhat disastrous) double first date together -- disastrous since both of their dates ditched them for other guys as soon as they got to the party. Not letting it ruin their night, the two of them found the PlayStation in the basement game room and spent the evening playing FIFA - deciding that despite being dumped, the night was a success in their book.
When Harry started to realize he didn't mind going out with girls, but had more interest in the Captain of the Football team than he felt was 'normal', it was Zayn he turned to. It was Zayn who let him know it was okay and reassured him that it didn't change anything between them. It didn't hurt that Zayn felt the same way about dating both girls and guys. When Harry felt more confident about the fact that this was his 'normal, Zayn helped him decide how to deal with explaining it to his mum (who was far more understanding of it than either boy had expected).
After several more disastrous attempts at dating both genders during their senior school years, they decided to try dating each other.
That lasted less than a week.
The first time they tried to kiss, Harry started to giggle. Zayn followed suit. From that point the whole attempt ended with the two of them dissolving into laughter over how awkward it all felt. Deciding they were better off as friends, the boys resumed their usual activities, with the added bonus of now being each others 'Wing-Man' when they tried to hook up. With their sexuality figured out as much as any 17 year-olds probably had, they headed off to university together.
Thanks to their grades and extracurricular actvitoes, they both landed partial scholarships to study Fine Arts -- Zayn gravitating toward sculpture and painting, while Harry threw himself into writing and music. The two of them thrived in university. Zayn played lacrosse while Harry found his niche on the swimming team. Finally in an environment where they had bigger dating pool, they took advantage of it. Being popular for being funny and smart, neither of them lacked for company. Within a week of moving into their shared flat they had worked out a system to let each other know when had a 'guest' over for the night -- or the weekend if things were going particularly well.
When Zayn hooked up with a girl that liked him to spank her, it was Harry who delved into the world of BDSM online to reassure Zayn that the fact that he enjoyed it didn't make him a freak. In the process Harry learned two things -- firstly, that he was intrigued by the idea of subbing, and second, that there was a rather well-known BDSM club just twenty minutes from their flat.
But knowing the club existed and actually finding the courage to visit were two entirely different things.
It took Zayn three months to convince Harry that they needed to do more than just read about kink online, they needed to go to the club and check it out. Zayn didn't let Harry's worries stop him anymore at this point than he did when they were younger and Harry was afraid to try new things that he was interested in. Instead he simply told Harry they were going to the next 'Newcomer Night'. There was no 'are we going to go,' just the simple declaration -- "We are going."
When Zayn played the 'boss card', Harry always capitulated.
That was one of Harry's first clues that he would make a far better submissive than a dominant. It also helped Zayn realize why he didn't really mind it when his girlfriend liked him to spank her.
One visit to the club was all it took to open their eyes to a new world that called to them like a siren, luring them in. Unfortunately, there were two big problems to that siren song -- Harry was too young to join the club since he had not yet turned 18 and the annual fee. While they couldn't be official members, they did the next best thing and attended every free workshop that Mephisto's offered, trying to learn everything they could. They took the time until Harry turned 18 to save up the money to join the club proper -- 150 pounds for a year was a huge chunk of their 'fun money', but they agreed it would be worth it.
And so it went. They were brothers from different mothers, who did everything together except fuck. Everything that is, until Harry moved to Scotland to do his Masters Degree in Fine Arts, while Zayn took off for London to try his hand in the art scene.
Things were finally coming together. Before he could stop to enjoy the feeling, Harry's life went completely pear-shaped. One year into Harry's two-year graduate program, Jeff happened. And everything from that point, everything in Glasgow turned to shit.
In a 48 hour period, Harry went from having a comfortable flat, fabulous mentor and doting boyfriend, to being a pariah at the university and 'untouchable' to his friends. There was nothing left in Glasgow for Harry at that point, so he did the only thing he could -- he fled home to Holmes Chapel.
For six months he lived at home, moving back into his childhood room and picking up his old job in the bakery while he hid from what had happened. Zayn tried to get him to move on. His sister tried to get him to move on. Finally, his mum sat him down and told him if he wasn't going to pick himself up, then she'd do the only thing she could do and send him to London and Zayn.
"Baby, I know you aren't telling me the whole story about what happened and that's okay," she said, wrapping her arm around him and leaning her forehead against the side of his head. "But Jeff was no good for you. I know you didn't want to hear it at Christmas when I tried to tell you, and I'm not here to say 'I told you so'. I just think it's time for you to get on with your life. You can't hide here with me forever." Kissing his cheek, he drank in the scent of her hand soap and the lightly spiced floral scent of her favourite perfume, the familiar smells soothing him in a way nothing else could. Her voice was gentle as she continued, "Go to the city, Harry. Get back in university. You have so much talent and so much potential, don't let it go to waste because of one selfish bastard." She gave him a tight hug, then nudged his shoulder with a grin. "I'll always be here to catch you when you need it, Harry. But I'm your mum, so I'll also be the one to push you out of the nest so you can try to soar again."
The next morning, he found a train ticket to London sitting under his favourite mug on the counter. His mum didn’t waste any time. Within two days she was dropping him at the station with his bags. By that evening he was moved into the spare room of Zayn's flat. And a week later he was enrolled to finish his Master's degree in London.
That didn't mean he was ready to try dating again. Even after six months, that wound was far too raw. Instead, he lurked around the flat, waiting for classes to start and turning down any and all invitations from Zayn and his friends to join them at the pub, at the club or just to hang out. After the third time that Zayn came home from work at 6pm and found Harry already in bed for the night, he'd decided enough was enough.
"That's it!" Zayn shouted, slamming the bedroom door fully open until it rattled on its hinges. His voice bounced off the bare walls of Harry's room, making the younger man poke his head out from under his covers. "No more moping around, Haz. I'm sick of it. Get up. Get showered. Get dressed. We're going to the club and we're gonna find someone to beat your ass so you get the attitude adjustment you desperately need.”
“Zaaaayn.... I...” Harry protested, only to be cut off as Zayn threw open Harry’s closet and started digging through the clothes.
“No excuses. Get your ass up and ready, or so help me I'll spank you myself!" Zayn ranted, throwing a pair of black skinny jeans on the bed for Harry to put on. "And we know how badly that turned out last time."
Zayn trying to dom Harry been an unmitigated disaster – worse than their brief attempt at dating in some ways. Seeing the way his best friend glared at him, he was sure Zayn would keep his promise if Harry didn't get up. So he did.
Although, as he now faced the heavy black door and the thudding bass that shook the walls, Harry was still not convinced this was a good idea.
"Here mate, put this on," Zayn said, thrusting a leather bracelet toward him. Harry grabbed it, glancing down at the blue and green beads on the band. "Blue for sub and green for willing to play," Zayn said, slipping on his own band with a black and green bead. "You are willing, yeah?"
Harry gave a non-committal shrug, his long fingers toying with the beaded band.
"Well, if someone approaches you and you really don't want to play with them, you can always say no," Zayn added, his tone softening. "But mate, you really need it. You know you do and so do I. Even if it's just a quick session over a Dom's knee, it would help settle you a bit. You don't want to meet your new faculty advisor being a depressed, nervous wreck do you?"
Worrying his lip with his teeth, Harry shook his head and slipped the band around his left wrist. In front of them an electronic hum sounded, followed by a heavy 'thunk' as the door was unlocked.
Zayn pulled the door open and looked expectantly at Harry, the loud music pushing against them with an almost physical force.'
"Ready?"
No - Harry thought, unable to give voice to the word. Deep down Harry knew that if he really wanted to leave, Zayn wouldn't force him to stay. The deep bass rumbling through the floor, accompanied by the familiar sound of floggers landing against flesh, sent a throb of want curling low in his belly. As much as he wasn't ready to date, his libido was definitely in favor of a session over a Dom's knee -- preferably a Dom with firm hand... and maybe a firm dick as well.
Taking a deep breath, Harry shut his eyes and stepped through the doorway.