Eclipse Of The Moon ~ Book 1 of Aaron
Chapter 45
Hell Fire

Wednesday 12 November 2003

Resist, Aaron... You can do this...

Temptation is such a difficult vice to fight against. I would bet my ass that this twink standing by the phone booth further in the street is a dealer; I saw him nervously looking around while handing a small thing to a girl before she ran away. Yielding to my former addiction sounds appealing and soothing my inner turmoil with a joint would be so easy.

I had the presence of mind to take my backpack before I left home. My wallet's inside and I have enough cash to buy a chunk of hash. I would just have to walk to the guy, flip out a twenty, say one word, and get the pot. It's four in the morning, not many people out on the streets, it would be fast and easy.

Don't be a loser, Ron. You promised yourself you'd never relapse. Your promised them you'd never fall back into the trap...

Ugh...

Do I want to disappoint my best friends?

Am I ready to shatter all of Ivan's efforts to dry me out from my addiction?

Am I willing to give up on the bit of self-will I found in myself thanks to my savior's determination?

No way. Not for such an insignificant annoyance. I am not diving back into my former vice for so little.

I have been aimlessly roaming the streets of Glendale for more than five hours now, unconsciously reaching Skid Row which is a totally different scenery from Ivan's neighborhood and I am getting tired. I shouldn't be here struggling with my urge for a quick and easy fix. I should be home and talking things through with Ivan. He might be worrying.

Might? You've got to be kidding, Aaron! He was relentlessly trying your phone until you stupidly detach the battery from the device!

Nevertheless, I can't resolve to head back home just yet. Am I shocked by what I saw in the dimmed room?

Yes, probably.

Or maybe not.

I don't know.

I feel so confused.

Tearing myself from the temptation, I head away from this neighborhood and drag myself to more comfortable areas of Los Angeles. My eyes are stinging from tiredness and my feet ache from so much walking, but I don't really care as long as my legs carry me forward. I stop by a coffee shop to get myself a tea and end up sitting on a bench in a park. The hot beverage burns my throat and the brew is definitely not as good as the varieties Ivan uses at home, but it still brings me a bit of comfort and the warmth I needed.

In my rush to escape Ivan as he was roaring my name, I just flew down the staircase, grabbed my backpack in the entrance hall and hurried out of the house, knowing the man wouldn't dare follow me in such... light and weird clothing. Fall is still a warm season in southern California, but the nights get fresh, so after what has been an endless day and only wearing a thin long-sleeved tee-shirt beneath my hoodie, I am getting cold.

With a sigh, I retrieve the pack of cigarettes and the lighter I bought earlier and pull out one of the twenty nicotine rolls, closing my eyes as I hold it between my index and middle fingers. My initial thought had been to tear one of those death sticks and use its tobacco to make myself a joint once I had found some hash, but I'm glad – and proud – that I resisted my desire to get high. Losing myself in the short-lived daze of feeling better was tempting, yet I know that it wouldn't solve the problem I am facing now.

Is it even a problem?

My state of confusion is a problem because I hate not being able to put words on my feelings and the only thing I'm sure of is that they hold a lot of contradictions. Embarrassment. Shame. Arousal. Lust. Fear. Attraction. Pleasure. Desire. Awkwardness. Excitement. All of these tumbled in my head at the same time and I found myself drowned into a spiral of emotions that I wasn't able to handle.

The scene I saw isn't a problem in itself. Sure, it was a shock because I would have never imagined anything like this happening behind this door; because after four months living with Ivan, I never conceived the image of that man manhandling another man with such roughness and pounding into his ass so harshly. I have always considered him as a sexy hunk; I was even attracted to his gorgeous body; I even had my guesses on how fucking hot he could be during sex. I just assume that the little naivety I still had somehow caused the shock.

Naivety, my ass...

My best friends and I might have been considered as late in terms of sexual puberty because we didn't start experimenting until we were 16, but I think we caught up fairly quickly afterwards. There was a lot of talking about sex and the magazines that Joshua used to buy for us to keep at the shack somewhat trashed our innocence. This is another reason why the scene I saw last night wasn't that much of a problem. One of the periodicals we loved to lurk at was a bit kinkier than others and my eyes had already been exposed to pictures of males indulging in rough sex and wearing similar outfits.

Something about sadism and masochism.

SM.

I vaguely recall Josh telling us about that practice, but I also remember we quickly disregarded his explanations at the time, too happy and eager to already relish in steamy pictures of hot men fucking each other in more simple ways. It was already so much for our then-innocent eyes.

We were not judging. We just had other interests back then.

So what? Does it mean that I have become judgmental?

No, I don't think so.

The more I think about it, the less I believe I was shocked by what I saw. I even got aroused and just remembering the way Ivan was pushing in and out of the other guy's mouth makes me hard again. It was so fucking hot! What bothers me is... a weird feeling of jealousy, and not specifically for the reasons I thought. I wish I had been in Ivan's place, pummeling the cutie's mouth, but at the same time, there is an inexplicable envy toward the guy with a desire to have been on the receiving end beyond comprehension.

That is where my problem lays, I think. The confusion reigning in my head and deep within me is what actually bothers me.

And then, there is a bit of anger directed at Ivan.

Who was this guy he called... Pet? What was he doing home when Ivan hasn't brought a guy other than his friends in four months? Did Ivan lie when he said he was single? Did he hide a boyfriend from me for so long? Is that even possible? I can't imagine him telling a supposed lover than he can't visit him anymore because he's putting up with a lost teenager.

Above all, I am hurt that he waited for my absence to bring someone home. Was this the purpose behind the gift? To send me away so he could use his weird room in peace? Even worse... Is this why he rejected me when I kissed him, back in August?

Damn... This is really fucked up!

I gather that this is his private life and he totally has a right to privacy, but after all I told him, about me, about my friends, about my past, even about some of my sexual experiences, I would have expected mutual honesty in return. Ivan, the one who swears by honesty, lied to me, even if by omission. And this clearly hits me right to the core.

Reopening my eyes after what seems to be like hours, I realize that dawn is now breaking and there are a few more people and cars around. My backpack is still tucked against my chest, the slings over my shoulders, and the cigarette I was holding hasn't left from between my fingers. The thumb of my left hand is automatically playing with the clicking mechanism, each time creating a sparkle with a flame that only yearns to reach the tip of the fag.

Reminiscences of my smoking period flash back, the way lighting a cigarette had become a mechanical gesture, how I used to enjoy its smell and how my mind would crave for the little stick each time I'd get upset. Weirdly enough, this is not the case today. It was such a struggle to quit smoking, I don't want to relapse into this other addiction. My throat isn't even begging for the burning sensation. My lungs aren't imploring to be filled with all the toxins. And my nose is shrinking at the potential detestable smell.

Before I know it, the paper roll finds itself crashed within the palm of my hand, while thinly crushed leaves of tobacco drop to the ground.

Probably the best thing to do...

"Holy fuck, you're here," a voice I wasn't expecting suddenly echoes, holding much relief, as the man crouches in front of me and pulls out his phone to speed-dial a number. "Found him, Ivan, he's safe. I'll bring him home, let's meet there."

I barely react to Anton's words. At least not in a blatant way. I mostly realize that I might get in trouble for having worried people and I feel touched by the sincere expression of relief displaying on his face.

"Damn, Aaron... You scared us. We've been up all night wandering the streets to look for you," he explains with an almost strangled voice before he gently grabs my wrists. "Listen... It's not my role to tell you anything, it's Ivan's, but before I take you back home, know that I'm here to listen to you if you need me. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I whisper back.

"Shocked?" he insists.

"No, just tired."

"Alright, let's go home then, you look exhausted indeed."

I am exhausted.

So much so that I don't oppose any resistance as he pulls me back to my feet and leads me toward the car parked a little further in the street.

So much so that my eyes struggle to remain open during the twenty-minute ride to Ivan's mansion.

So much so that I only relish in Ivan's tight embrace when I step inside the house.

So much so that I nearly collapse to the floor when he lets go of my body.

So much so that I abandon myself to a deep slumber as soon as he has helped me up to my bedroom.

A serious conversation is certainly required, but it'll have to wait until we have all had our share of sleep.

* * *

Eight. One. Three.

These are the numbers I get to see on the digital alarm clock sitting on my nightstand when I open my eyes again. No wonder my bedroom is so dark. It seems like my body was in need for a full trip around the clock, but not having had a proper meal since the delicious French lunch yesterday in Boston, my stomach is loudly screaming for food now. My bladder is also begging for relief, so I get out of bed, help the poor organ at the toilet, quickly freshen up at the sink and head out.

As soon as I reach the staircase, delicious smells of pasta and Bolognese sauce hit my nostrils, causing my stomach to rumble once more, but before I have had time to make my way to the kitchen, powerful arms enwrap my shoulders, and my body gets crushed against a taut chest.

"Feels good to have you back, Menino," Ivan whispers with emotion. "I was scared you'd never come back. I'm so sorry... for what you had to witness last night. I wasn't expecting you until today and... Shit!" he exclaims as he slightly pulls back, though only to firmly grasp my shoulders and stare at me with wide-open eyes. "Are you okay? What did you do all night out? Anything happened? What's that little scratch on your lips? Have you been hurt? Anything went wrong in Boston that you had to fly back earlier? Did you fight with your friends?"

"Ivan, Ivan, Ivan," I grouse, gently disentangling from his hold, but the man keeps his hands on my shoulders. "Nothing wrong happened other than a snowstorm last night in Boston. The travel agency called yesterday morning and offered to either fly back earlier or later this week, so I thought I could... surprise you," I explain with a bit of bitterness.

"I'm sorry, Menino... really," he sighs. "Where were you last night?"

"I just wandered in the streets."

"Anton said you were holding a cigarette and a lighter when he found you."

"And I didn't smoke," I growl, decisively taking a step back, realizing that I don't even know what happened with the pack. "I guess Anton must have given you the pack, and if you can still count, there should be nineteen of them in there, and I had just crushed the twentieth."

"I know, he told me, and I'm proud you resisted, Menino," he says more warmly. "Listen, there's a huge deal of explanations I owe you, things I was going to tell you about upon your return. Things I couldn't tell you earlier, at least not before you were 18 and I'd be certain you could... comprehend, accept and perhaps... fit in. However, it's already late and I'll soon have to go to w..."

"What? No way! I'm not letting you go before we've had a serious conversation!" I cut him, disappointment clear in my tone, and I wonder why his lips suddenly draw into a smirk.

"I'm not taking orders, Mister," he replies smugly before his face abruptly recovers its usual sternness. "And you're going with me."

"No fucking way, we're not going to the Heaven Water. Tonight, we're talking," I insist, taking another step back and folding my arms across my chest.

Ivan remains silent, but his darkening eyes speak brilliantly of his annoyance, and as he begins to slowly close the distance between us, I am left speechless in front of the impressiveness of his stare and the powerfulness of his body. Before I know it, I find myself pinned against the wall, my hands hanging loosely along my sides while his rest on each side of my head.

"Who said we're going to the Heaven Water?" he breathes out, his eyes intensely piercing into mine.

"You just said... you'll have to... go to work... soon..."

"But I didn't mention the Heaven Water."

Don't let his husky voice mesmerize you, Ron!

"Where then?" I snap back.

"You'll see that when we get there."

"Is that part of the explanations you're supposed to give me?"

"Most obviously."

"Then tell me!"

"Nope. I want you to see for yourself."

"AND I WANT EXPLANATIONS!" I shout, slipping away from his imprisoning arms.

"AND I SAID YOU'D SEE FOR YOURSELF!" he yells even louder, his eyes now throwing daggers at me. "Explanations would take too long and we barely have an hour to eat, shower and get ready," he says a bit more calmly yet firmly pushing me toward the kitchen. "Instead, you'll tell me about your weekend."

"Now that's too easy, Ivan. Once again, you're trying to escape that conversation," I reply bitterly as we settle at the island counter.

"That's what it is."

"You just can't pique my curiosity and then tell me I can't ask questions."

"That's still what it is."

"You're unfair. And disloyal."

"Listen, Menino," he sighs, filling our plates with spaghetti and the red sauce. "I swear to God that I'll answer all your questions, each and every one of them, but I'd like you to see first. You can wait for another hour, can't you?"

"You're only making me more curious," I grunt.

"Trust me, Aaron, it'll be worth the wait," he adds soothingly and with a wink. "Now tell me about your weekend in Boston. Is that the little cut you got from Camden's punch?" he grimaces, extending his arm across the table to brush his thumb against the corner of my lips.

"There's no need making that face, I told you it was nothing, and it doesn't even hurt," I grunt, pushing his hand.

"I can tell you're really attached to him," he replies with a fond smile.

"Like I'm attached to all of them. Cam's just a bit more difficult to handle, and you already know that."

"Yeah, I know, I didn't mean anything wrong. I know you love them all equally," he whispers softly, looking down at his plate.

"And I love you just as much as them," I sigh, glad to see his lips crook into a smile. "Even if you're such a pain at times."

"I can be much more painful..."

"I already know that, no need to prove it."

"Okay, then tell me more about that weekend," he concludes dryly.

I know that tone and the strict expression on his face all too well. They are the ones that leave no place for argument, the ones I don't stand a chance against. It would only mean wasting my energy in a pointless fight, so with a sigh, I rear myself on the stool across from him and start digging into my loaded plate, greedily downing a couple of forkfuls in silence. Ivan stares at me with high expectation for a while, clearing his throat loudly to prove me his impatience, but I take a few more minutes as a fair revenge before I eventually tell him about my weekend in Boston.

We did speak over the last four days, so he already knows most of how Camden, Mark, Joshua and I kept our days busy, but he is now yearning for more details and pictures I took thanks to the digital camera he lent me for the trip. Moved by his earnest curiosity and still on my high after this whopping reunion, I eventually relax and cheerfully recount all that happened in Boston, providing answers to all his questions and many more snippets, even those I had promised myself not to tell him about.

These mainly include the naughty activities my friends and I indulged in, because I thought it was none of his business at first, but in my elation, I end up saying more than I should. No regrets, though. For some reason, I happen to enjoy watching him blanch a bit and although I can't explain where this jubilation comes from, I like to think there is some sort of jealousy. This is very mean of me, but I have never pretended to be perfect and I can't deny the small jolt of delight blooming in my chest when his eyes darken to pitch black.

"Right... Hope you've enjoyed yourself so far," he grunts at some point, and I feel like there is a double understanding here, an ominous feeling, as if I should expect an upcoming whirl in my life. "Now you've got twenty minutes to shower and dress up. There's a shopping bag in your bedroom with clothes I want you to wear tonight."

"What...!?"

"You heard me well, Aaron. Now shut up and obey. I need a shower too, so let's meet downstairs in twenty."

With that, he jumps off his seat, quickly clears the table, but it's only when I see him head away that I pull out of my daydreaming and hurry upstairs. While I relish under the warm stream of water and in the relaxing scent of my shower gel, my mind drifts back to Ivan's promise for revelations last Friday before I flew out.

Since I'm not completely dense, I can easily guess that it is related to what I saw last night, and far from bringing me any relief, it only revives my earlier fears. Is he about to introduce me to the cutie who was here yesterday evening? Is he a longtime boyfriend? What if said lover considers me as an unwanted third wheel and pleads Ivan to kick me out now?

No, it wouldn't make any sense.

I can envisage that Ivan lied by omission, like he had good reasons to hide things from me, but I can't imagine he would have deliberately fabricated lies, and he sounded sincere that one time he said he only had one-night stands.

The longer you stay under shower, the later you'll find out... Just saying...

Yeah, there is no point delaying this any further, so once I have wiped myself dry, I slip into a pair of tight and low boxer briefs and fetch the shopping bag Ivan mentioned earlier. Flipping it over my bed, I gasp at the clothes scattered on my mattress.

Leather trousers.

Shiny black Dr. Martens boots.

A thin almost-see-through black shirt that looks sexy as fuck.

Holy hell!!

"Aren't you ready yet!?" Ivan exclaims as he barges into my bedroom, just as I am starting to pull the pants over my legs.

"Almost. Hey... these look a bit tight, don't they?" I grumble, feeling a bit constricted inside the fabric once I have buttoned the front.

Ivan has always had a good eye when it comes to buying clothes in my absence, so I wonder why he didn't choose a larger size. A larger cut like the leathers he is wearing and that look so hot on him.

"They're perfect," he smirks, giving my body a bold once over from the entrance that makes me blush a bit. "You'll get used to them."

"Or I could borrow a pair of yours since you seem to have several of them."

For some reason, Ivan chuckles at that, shaking his head before he pulls out, ready to shut the door.

"Not likely, Menino. In this place where we're going to tonight, there's a certain dress code according to each guest's status. Yours begs to wear this fit of pants, so you can't have one of mine," he replies mysteriously, but before I can ask another question, he is out the door, commanding me to hurry up.

What the fuck is this all about!?

Extremely eager to find out, I hastily shrug into the shirt, put on socks and the boots, then rush back to the bathroom to brush my teeth and run gelled fingers through my hair. Even if I like these bangs and the messy spikes, I should get them cut a bit because they're getting too long. After a last peek in the mirror, quite happy with the guy dressed in sexy clothes that it reflects, I finally go to meet Ivan who is already waiting for me in the SUV.

Hmm... No Anton tonight...

"Did you put the alarm on?" Ivan asks as the engine roars to life.

"Yes, Sir!" I cheer playfully, making him snort while I drop the house keys into the glove box.

"Alright, Menino," he then goes on once we are out of the property, his voice achieving a whole new level of seriousness that sends a shiver down my spine. "I need you to focus and listen carefully. It's only ten minutes to the club and rather than beginning a long explanation I wouldn't be able to finish, I'm just going to give you instructions, is this clear?"

"Err... yeah...?"

"AARON!" he barks, making me startle. "This is serious. The Hell Fire is a very special place. It's nothing like you've ever seen before."

"The Hell Fire?"

"Yes, the Hell Fire. It's a private club registered by lots of rules that members abide by with utter respect for fear of undisputable consequences, and..."

"Wow, sounds serious..." I chuckle, causing him to grunt and abruptly stop at a traffic light.

"It is serious. Had it been any other young man, I'd proceed a whole different way. I would spend hours explaining things before I'd let him inside the club; I'd test his personality; I'd observe his reaction. Not you. I know you're ready. I know you'll fit in this world despite your young age. However, if you can't be serious and listen, I'm driving you back home right away," he warns me as he drives off.

"I can be serious," I retort, quite perplexed by all this mystery. "But what are you talking about? What is it I'm ready for?"

"I've spent the last four months testing you. I've observed your reactions, I've analyzed your personality, I'm certain you have a future in this world," he replies, his deep self-confidence only puzzling me more. "This visit will be the last test and I'm confident it'll have a positive outcome."

Squinting at the road ahead, Ivan retreats into a chilling silence, and although questions are burning my tongue, my vocal cords remain inexorably mute. As I stare ahead, I recognize the familiar route toward the Heaven Water, which only confuses me more, but just when I expect him to go ahead and stop in front of the nightclub, Ivan takes a right before the building and turns into a smaller and darker street. And that's when I see it, the blue neon light that flashes eight capital letters above a discreet entrance.

HELL FIRE.

As we pass by what looks like an old theatre, I see two women wearing trench coats being quickly ushered through a metal door that immediately shuts once they're in. Ivan's car doesn't stop, though, and he takes a left into a narrower street parallel to the Heaven Water's. He pulls to a stop on the left and a full-metal gate slides open, allowing us to drive into a crowded parking lot at the back of the nightclub, where he has his own reserved spot by the back entrance of the theatre. In fact, I realize that this building is appended to the Heaven Water and that the nightclub has an access to this parking lot.

"Hold on a sec," Ivan orders firmly, grabbing my arm as I'm about to pull out of the car.

"Oh, yes, the rules you mentioned, I guess?"

"Exactly. The Hell Fire is a private club I own, with registered members who not only nurse their anonymity and privacy but also abide by a set of strict rules that I established."

Strict rules established by Ivan? How surprising!

"Okay, and?" I urge him.

"You'll quickly get to learn these rules, but for tonight, I just want you to stay by my side at all times. Wednesdays are usually quiet evenings with little attendance, but you're forbidden to wander inside the club on your own, is that clear?"

"All clear."

"Also, what you're going to see is rather intense and might yield unnerving emotions. Deep down, I'm sure you'll be fine, but if you suddenly feel uncomfortable at any moment, I command you to inform me and we'll leave right away. Do you understand, Aaron?"

Weirdly enough, even if I can't be sure, I am starting to get a little idea of what may possibly be happening behind these walls; something that involves people dressed in leather.

"Yeah..." I breathe out as thrilling flutters erupt and course through my entire body.

"Yes, Sir," he growls, catching me off-guard.

"Yes, Sir."

"Also, members of the Hell Fire fall into two categories. For now, let's call them Leaders and Followers, and I'm pretty sure that you'll quickly make the distinction between both. Rule number one, never stare into a Leader's eyes, just keep your head lowered. Rule number two, don't speak unless you're invited to do it so, in which case, you shall address them as Sir or Madam and with utmost respect. Is this all clear?"

"Yes... Sir. But..." I begin, but Ivan presses a finger to my lips.

"I won't tell you more, Menino, you'll see the rest for yourself, and I promise that I will answer each of your questions tomorrow. Can you do this?" he asks almost pleadingly, and I just nod in answer, completely mesmerized by his underlying excitation. "We're good to go, then."

Holy crap! What am I getting myself into? What is Ivan getting me into? Is he about to drag me into some sort of cult?

His speech has left me breathless and turned to stone on my seat for reasons I can't explain. I trust Ivan's judgement and I can already feel that I am on the verge of discovering something that might change my life. Perhaps because he said that he has been testing me for months; perhaps it's the powerful assurance of his tone; or perhaps he simply knows me better than I do myself. I don't know. The reality is that I feel in some sort of trance and my muscles only recover their functions when Ivan opens my door and leads me toward the entrance of the old theatre.

"Master Ivan."

The black bouncer standing by the door is dressed in leather trousers and a black half-buttoned dress shirt that reveals a powerful chest, but it's not his gorgeous frame or his perfect eyebrows that catch my attention. It's the powerful aura emanating from his stance; it's the way his dark brown eyes squint at me, his irises filled with bold curiosity.

"Good evening, Mike."

Mike... Mike... Mike... Why does that name suddenly ring a bell in my ears?

But if you have a thing for black hunks, I'll introduce you to my younger brother. At least, he's gay, Anton said that afternoon after the Heaven Water incident. Mike's a good guy!

I didn't know you had a brother...

I do. He's a real stud. Two hundred pounds of muscles.

Jeez! He'd make a good bouncer then.

That's his job actually.

"Aaron," Ivan says, one of his hands reaching for the nape of my neck, "This is Mike, Anton's younger brother."

No shit, Sherlock! I hadn't guessed!

"Hi, nice to meet you," I say cheerfully, extending my right hand for a proper greeting, and the guy literally glares before he reluctantly shakes it.

"Good evening."

"He doesn't know yet, Mike, bear with him, he'll learn," Ivan apologizes.

Oh, okay, so I guess that Mister Mike is one of those leaders I should address with respect. Fuck that, I haven't signed up for your cult yet, guys.

"No problem, Master Ivan."

Can I borrow Aaron to help me set the table outside M...Ivan?

I don't know why I suddenly remember that dinner at Marcus and Sam's last September, just after Anton caught Marek and me in my bedroom, and Sam's sudden embarrassment when he spoke to Ivan. Or rather, yes, I know why this little slip resurfaces in my head, and that's because I now know what Sam was going to call him. And if I needed further hints...

"Have Marcus and Sam arrived?" Ivan then asked.

"Yes, Sir. About an hour ago. Anton and Charlie as well."

Of fucking course. The whole gang is here.

"Perfect, thanks."

"Have a nice evening, Master Ivan."

I don't know what the smugness of his tone implies, but it makes me feel almost giddy and I am barely aware of my surroundings as we step inside a large hall where Ivan draws me to a halt. There, I watch him shrug out of his black shirt, exposing his broad, tanned torso before he goes to stand in front of and slowly begins to undo the buttons of mine. Gently, the palms of his hands make contact with the skin of my shoulders, squeezing them lightly before they roam down my arms, pulling the soft fabric in their wake. I don't feel the slightest embarrassment at the sudden exposure of my bare chest and I naturally follow his lead as he grabs my hand and guides me toward a narrow corridor once the clothes have been left by the cloak desk.

If I didn't know Ivan better or if I didn't trust him like I do, I would wonder if I haven't been drugged because unknown emotions have seized me, making me almost light-headed as we walk, until we stop by a double-door. Ivan shifts to stand behind me and rests his firm hands on my shoulders, pressing his taut body against my back as he leans forward.

"Open," he whispers in my right ear.

As soon as I have opened the door, Ivan gently pushes us inside what seems to be a huge dimmed room and right then, my whole life whirls around.

The room is pretty dark, but my sight quickly adjusts and what I see leaves me breathless. There is a crowd of maybe forty or fifty people occupying a large dance floor – though nothing as big as the one in the Heaven Water – but the population is obviously different. Ivan mentioned a dress code earlier, but is this even clothing? All I can see is leather, or small pieces of leather to be more accurate as far as the majority is concerned, and this is so fucking hot! Almost as hot as their sensual moves.

This is not what holds my attention, though. It's not that sexy crowd on the dance floor.

No, what gets my full deference is what is happening next to the dancefloor.

A tall man dressed in leather pants has another one bent over a low table and is pounding into his ass while a third guy is literally face-fucking the one in the middle.

A woman dressed in a tight leather dress is walking a beautiful man who is crawling on his hands and knees, only wearing a dog collar attached to the leash firmly held by the lady.

Another tall woman is dragging a smaller one around with a leash, though the petite girl is obviously allowed to walk on her feet.

A sexy hunk is seated in a comfortable armchair, legs spread apart for a bulky lad to kneel in front of him. As an aside, said lad is only wearing leather jock straps and openly sucking on the other's erection.

This is just a sample of what is going on before my eyes, but there are more people indulging in sexual activities in this room while two guys are apparently preparing some equipment on a stage at the far back. Holy crap! What sort of place is this? A sex club? A brothel?

I don't know how long I have been gawking, somehow lost in the contemplation of what has to be the most extraordinary place I have ever seen, but there's a sudden crowd move that catches my attention as the music lowers and most people shift to settle on sofas and in armchairs by the stage. There, a young twink has been tied to chains hanging from the low ceiling, his arms stretched in a V form above his head while his ankles have been restrained into large cuffs that are attached to thick metal rings on the floor. His legs spread open expose a semi-hard member that a tall hunk dressed in only leather pants is stroking, turning it into a full hard-on.

It doesn't last, though. The tall man soon stops the manhood teasing to grab a flogger and begins to strike the lashes on the twink's back, making the latter exhale needy moans.

"The fuck..." I breathe out.

"Yeah, they will," Ivan purrs in my ear, pressing himself further against my back and allowing me to feel his hardness.

And as he leads me further in, I realize that my life is indeed about to be turned upside down.

Published on 13 May 2020

Phew, I'm late. Blame the French channel TF1 for airing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night, and I watched that instead of giving the chapter its last proofread.

Anyway, here you go with Aaron's reaction to what he saw the previous night and his first step into the Hell Fire. It may feel like another cliffhanger, but I just had to cut that evening at some point or it would have made this chapter 13 or 14K words long. In any case, this visit is not so important (well, it is, but it's not the most important) as it's merely a springboard for the huge revelations that will come in the next chapter. It was also a nice opportunity to introduce Mike, whom you'll get to meet a lot until the end of the series, and above all, it'll be a very quick first insight in what the Hell Fire is at that moment, that is a mixed club.

See you next week for the long-awaited revelations.

Meanwhile, stay safe!