Chapter Text
David knew he was visiting somewhere where privacy was part of the allure. Still, when the tyres of his Mercedes E-Class convertible crunched across the crumbling concrete of the car park and his eyes settled on the run-down warehouse, he wondered if he had the right address.
He checked his satnav again, its bright screen crisp against the dark of his dashboard. It was definitely the right place.
He frowned slightly, wondering why discretion always seemed to come at the expense of class.
He would have known if he’d looked into it properly. Maybe if he’d read a few reviews, his stomach wouldn’t be tying itself in knots right now. But he couldn’t risk it.
He hadn’t admitted this thing to anyone else—barely even to himself—so the thought of having to explain his search history was incomprehensible.
Anyone would probably wonder why he was bothering at all. Why he was taking the risk of visiting such a questionable establishment if it unsettled him so much?
But the truth was simple.
He was desperate.
Desperate for release. For pleasure. For… intimacy.
But not of the conventional kind.
His marriage had ended only a matter of weeks ago. This desire had been burning inside him for far longer than that. He’d never been brave enough. Never desperate enough. Never lonely enough to finally act on it.
Until now.
So, as sweat began to bead on his palms, he locked his expensive car and started walking towards the inconspicuous door he hoped marked the entrance.
An entrance to instant gratification.
Something that would make the vicious nerves clawing at his insides worth it.
‘ID,’ a small, lithe man said as soon as David stepped over the threshold.
He still wasn’t entirely convinced this was the right place, but as he glanced around, taking stock with a quick sweep of his gaze, it looked more in line with what he’d been expecting.
It was dark—no lights except for blue neon LED strips tracing every edge of the ceiling. The desk was plush leather, and the air was warm and balmy, a stark contrast to the bitter wind that had swept through the barren car park on the other side of the door.
David fumbled to get his wallet, his eyes darting briefly to the man behind the desk. He wondered what he was thinking. Was he judging him? Did he want to know why David was visiting a sauna on a random Thursday afternoon?
His heart began to race. Did he really want to go through with this?
There would be no going back once he checked in.
Of course, he could turn and walk away at any time—but even then, he’d be forced to accept this part of himself. He could no longer write his past experiences with men off as too much drink, or being so horny it had scrambled his brain chemistry.
He couldn’t use those excuses anymore.
Not after this.
This was a decision.
And there would be no hiding from it.
His hand fumbled inside the pocket of his jeans, trying to summon enough coordination to grip the textured leather. But he couldn’t. His fingers were too slick with sweat, his hand–eye coordination completely wrecked by nerves.
‘Have you been here before?’ the monotone voice asked.
David looked up to find the man thoroughly uninterested, his eyes barely lifting from the phone in front of him.
‘No,’ David replied, having to carefully school his voice for even that single word.
The man didn’t look up. He simply placed a clipboard on the counter and slid it towards him.
‘Fill this out and bring it back with your ID. I need to make a copy.’
A copy?
Fuck.
David had thought places like this were meant to be discreet. Top secret. His breath quickened at the idea of having tangible evidence of his escapade sitting on file somewhere.
‘Don’t worry. It’s kept private. GDPR and all that,’ the man added matter-of-factly, like he’d said the same thing to every first-timer who walked through the door.
David couldn’t quite find the courage to reply. He just nodded, tentatively taking the form and sitting down, feeling as though he was about to sign a part of his life away.
He thought the doubt would subside when he’d paid for his membership, opened a tab and was handed a packet of condoms accompanied by some sachets of lube.
But no—the steady drum of his pulse continued to echo in his ears, his chest rising and falling deeper and more noticeably than ever. His body told him this wasn’t as easy or as freeing as he’d convinced himself it would be.
Still, he kept going, putting one foot in front of the other as he made his way towards the locker rooms.
The sixty-nine felt ironic—like some gay god was having him on for ever thinking this was wrong. For denying something that had been so blatantly obvious about himself since he’d been a young boy.
He noticed things like this a lot. Small signs. Little messages from some higher power, quietly taunting him. Reminding him of who he was deep down.
A person he’d never wanted to let surface. Someone he’d tried, many times, to drown out—without success.
Would this experience finally loosen the noose of his self-loathing?
Could the death of his former, homophobic self lead to self-acceptance and peace within?
He wasn’t sure this budget sauna held that kind of power. But something inside him glimmered with a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Hope.
He’d read the rules with a fine-tooth comb, despite his knee bouncing and making it hard to fully concentrate on the words in front of him. He just hoped he’d remember everything, unwilling to make a fool of himself in front of the many people milling about.
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He’d thought that the humble timing of his visit—a weekday afternoon—might mean it would be quieter.
It wasn’t.
The locker room was busy—men minding their own business, changing, chatting, showering. The lack of cubicles wasn’t lost on David.
He carefully slid his jeans down, hesitating over whether to leave his black Calvin Kleins on or take them off. He had time to decide. The warm, moist air brushed against his now-bare legs, snapping him back into his body.
Back into the reality of where he was.
Of what he was doing.
He glanced around.
He was being watched.
By more than one person.
Something stirred inside him. He couldn’t decide whether he liked it or wanted to run away and never face this kind of attention again. He felt exposed. Rubbed raw. Certain that by the end of this experience, he’d be stripped right down to the bone.
He avoided eye contact, focusing instead on undressing and carefully folding and placing his clothes into the locker.
He took a towel from the nearby bundle and wrapped it around his waist, then tried—several times—to push the key into the lock.
‘Here. You’ve got a stiff one,’ a gruff voice said from behind him.
Before David could even turn around, there was warmth pressed close to his back. His skin prickled. Every instinct told him to slither away.
Anywhere that wasn’t here.
The man secured the locker and handed him the key with a small, almost shy smile.
He was big. Broad. Muscles bulging beneath his skin. Shaved head. In theory, he should have been intimidating.
But he wasn’t.
He looked kind.
Empathetic.
‘If you need any help, give me a shout,’ he said softly—about as soft as that rough voice was ever likely to get.
David took the key and offered a quick smile. ‘Thanks.’
Then he turned abruptly and made his way down the musky, dim corridor towards the bar.
It was only then that he noticed the insistent bulge pressing against his underwear.
The bar was much the same—dark, black leather features, the familiar blue LED lights brighter in this room.
He slid onto a stool, deciding he needed at least one drink for courage. Dutch courage. He’d never usually drink if he was driving, but right now he felt compelled to take the edge off his frayed nerves. He reassured himself that the alcohol would be nearly out of his system by the time he left.
He gave the bartender his order.
The man was… young. Curly-haired. Divine.
David’s type—if he could admit, even for two seconds, that he was into men.
His taste in women had always been similar, he supposed. But a lithe, curly-haired man felt like forbidden fruit in a way nothing else ever had.
His past experiences with men had always been out of his control.
At least, that was what he told himself.
They’d been presented to him. Circumstantial. Accidental.
This was different.
This was the first time he was choosing.
The first time he was allowing himself to lean into his desire. To seek pleasure from someone who wasn’t an experiment, or a last resort—but someone he actually wanted.
Alas, he still had his restraints. The fact that Bath Haus employees were off-limits was the first of many rules.
He sipped his Jack and Coke, enjoying the coolness of the glass against his fingertips. He knew it was the sauna creating the balmy air, but still—he felt hot. Uncomfortably so.
He glanced around. Men sat alone at small tables. Others lingered in pairs. Some drifted through the space without any clear destination. It was a mixed bag.
David hadn’t really allowed himself to look. Not properly. Only quick, fleeting glances.
He was scared that lingering too long in front of the fire would get him burned.
He still wasn’t sure what he was here for. And making eye contact felt like an agreement. An invitation. A promise to converse, to explore something he wasn’t yet ready to face.
Not just yet.
So when he felt the cool press of a hand against his lower back, it startled him enough that his breath caught.
In an instant, it felt like the decision had been taken from him.
The touch was possessive. He could feel it in the way the contact lingered, in the way a current skittered from that palm and up his spine.
‘Is this seat taken?’ a soft voice asked, his breath close to David’s ear.
‘N—no,’ David managed, as the man slid onto the stool beside him.
David kept his eyes fixed on his glass. He was scared. No—petrified—to look at the person who had chosen to speak to him.
What was he agreeing to with a simple hello?
‘Are you new here?’ the voice asked. It was similar in pitch to the bartender’s. Young-sounding. Light. There was no rough edge beneath the words.
David took a deep breath.
Then he made his peace with it.
This was it.
This was the turning point.
His gaze lingered for a second before finally lifting to meet the mystery man’s.
David’s breath hitched—this time not from nerves or worry.
From shock.
Now he understood the current he’d felt between them.
The man was gorgeous.
The living, breathing embodiment of every forbidden, half-suppressed wet dream he’d ever had.
‘Yeah. I’m new here,’ David said meekly, before straightening his shoulders.
He bit his lip as his gaze drifted over the younger man’s body.
Tattoos. Lots of them.
He couldn’t quite make them out in the low light, but he already found himself wanting to know more. Wanting to trace them. To explore them—amongst other things—as his eyes dipped lower.
He was naked.
Completely bare.
Not a thread of material graced his body. His cock was thick, half-hard. David found himself wondering if he’d been responsible for that reaction, even before the man had taken his seat.
‘I could tell,’ the man said with a cheeky smirk. Then his gaze dropped pointedly to David’s crotch.
David’s brows knitted together in confusion. He couldn’t believe that, after reading all the rules so carefully, he’d still managed to commit a faux pas.
‘The towel,’ the man clarified, nodding slightly as he bit his lip.
His eyes travelled slowly over David now, unhurried, deliberate—like he was inspecting him.
Appraising him.
David wondered if he liked what he saw.
Was he too old? Did he look too inexperienced?
Did he somehow radiate virgin energy?
Despite the fact that he’d been with men before, this still felt like the first time.
The first time he was intentionally choosing it.
The first time he might actually get to enjoy it without a thick cloud of dread engulfing him.
‘What’s your name?’
‘David,’ he replied, trying not to trip over his words as the raven waves of hair mesmerised him. He found himself wondering what it would be like to slip his fingers beneath those strands, to hold on tightly.
‘Oliver.’ He held out a hand to shake. It felt strangely formal.
David wanted to break the barrier. To show interest.
Still, he reluctantly took the hand that was offered. He noticed the black nail varnish instantly.
Despite wearing nothing at all, Oliver somehow managed to cultivate his own sense of style.
He carried himself with an ease, a quiet confidence that David could only describe as a knowing sense of self.
‘I like older men,’ Oliver said calmly, holding his gaze as his grip tightened slightly around David’s palm.
David’s breath caught.
It felt almost like being claimed. Not in a suffocating way—but in a deliberate one. Like Oliver was staking his interest and waiting to see if David would accept it.
Waiting for his consent.
David realised, dimly, that this was probably how it worked. One person took the lead. The other decided whether to follow.
And for once in his life, David found that he wanted—desperately—to be the one who let go.
To be guided.
To be chosen.
‘Do you want me?’ David blurted, before he’d had the chance to properly weigh his words.
Heat flared up his neck instantly, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Before he could spiral too far into regret, Oliver answered—
‘I want to fuck you,’ he said evenly, releasing David’s hand as he stood from the stool. He was tall. Taller than David. His body toned, self-assured, every line of him deliberate.
David’s mouth went dry.
‘If you want this, David,’ Oliver continued, his voice low but steady, ‘then follow me. I have a room.’
There was no pressure in the words. Just certainty.
Oliver nodded once to the bartender and moved towards the corridor without looking back.
David’s head spun.
Was this what he wanted?
He hadn’t come here with that specific intention. He’d never even considered it. Never allowed himself to imagine surrendering control like that.
He didn’t need to consciously make the decision.
His body made it for him.
He gave the bartender a small nod—more to steady himself than anything else—and slid off the stool.
Then he followed Oliver down the dim corridor, towards a door that promised something entirely new waiting on the other side.