Adam laughs and ruffles Mahiro’s hair, affectionate. “Oh, sweetheart. I think you’ve lost that battle already.”
THE WEEK seems to drag on forever. Mahiro goes into a frenzy of cleaning from the time he gets home from work until after ten o’clock at night, scouring every inch of the usually spotless playroom and scrubbing the grout in the tiles of the bathroom with an old toothbrush. He polishes every inch of chrome and brass exposed in the playroom, oils the leather harnesses, wraps and rewraps the ropes. Only Adam’s cabinet is left untouched, except for when Mahiro climbs up a ladder and vacuums the top. Adam catches him at it and refuses to let him live it down; he finds notes all over the house with “Clean here” and arrows pointing to shelves, the fridge, behind the sofa, even Mahiro’s own bedroom.
“Fuck you,” Mahiro calls and pulls the note off his door. “I can’t help that I’m nervous.”
“I know, so we may as well take advantage of it,” Adam says from his open door across the hall. “Have you sent him his ‘welcome to the party’ email yet?”
“That’s what I came up here to do.”
“Not to give you advice or anything, but I will anyway: remember this guy is used to performing through pain. He’s probably stronger than you’re used to, but don’t take advantage of it.”
“I know, I remember what it’s like.” Mahiro remembers the horrifying bruises and bloodied feet; he wonders if Alex’s skating has left any permanent imprints. “I wonder if he still skates at all.”
“Probably. You still do. Why wouldn’t he?”
Mahiro nods and sits down to compose the list of instructions for Alex’s visit on Friday. Simple, to the point, no room for misunderstanding.
Alex:
I hope you’re doing well this week and you’re still prepared to move forward with our agreement. If so, here are the things you need to remember for Friday:
Arrive at 7:00 p.m. sharp. Do not be late. Do not be early.
You may walk into the house without knocking. Simply come in, follow the hall to the black door with an antique brass knob situated at the very back, and take the stairs down. The first door you encounter will be open. Undress down to your underwear and place your clothes on the stool that sits right inside the door.
Take your waiting position on the red cushion that will be in the middle of the floor.
I will meet you there, and I expect you to be ready by 7:05.
I look forward to seeing you. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have in the meantime. I have received the copy of your STI test results, thank you. Everything looks good.
Mahiro
He still can’t quite believe this is happening, but he hits Send anyway and crosses his fingers he didn’t mistype the email address Alex gave him. He then scrubs his hands over his face, flops onto his bed, and stares at the ceiling.
He’s got some serious planning to do, and it’s already Wednesday.
FRIDAY AT 6:57 p.m. finds Mahiro sitting patiently on the other side of the sliding door to the living room that sits perpendicular to his front door, looking at his phone and trying to keep his leg still so the incessant tapping doesn’t give him away.
6:58. Anytime now.
6:59.
7:00. Mahiro’s heart thumps with anticipation, but there’s nothing.
7:01. The click of the door and hesitant steps. Damn.
Lesson one.
AT 7:05 p.m. on the nose, Mahiro takes a steadying, calming breath and opens the door to the playroom.
And tries not to come in his pants at what he sees.
Alex, clad in nothing but low-slung purple briefs, hair perfectly coiffed, kneeling precisely as asked with his hands carefully placed on his thick, beautiful thighs. Head poised, back delicately arched as if he were at the barre. And his face, oh God.
He turns at the sound of the door and his smile is soft, inviting, seductive.
Mahiro has to turn around and pretend to lock the door just to give himself a mental slap. Yes, he’s here, yes, he’s beautiful, yes, he wants you to do all sorts of filthy things to him, but you are responsible for him, so fucking handle yourself, Seta.
So he says nothing, simply walks across the room to stand in front of Alex, wishing that lovely smile could last all night. But it can’t.
“Good evening, Alex,” he says. “You were late.”
Alex blinks. “I wasn’t! I mean, I was here at five after seven, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, but I said to be at the house at seven. Not early, not late.”
Alex looks down, disappointed. “I’ve messed up already?”
Mahiro sighs. Oh, this is going to be so difficult. “Yes, Alex. You’ll learn I mean exactly as I say. No more, no less. This is your one warning. If it happens again, you will be punished.”
“It won’t, I promise.”
Mahiro walks toward his cabinet, unlocks it, and selects his riding crop from among the various toys hanging inside. The feel of it in his hand grounds him, chases his nerves away. He leaves the door open, just so Alex can get a good look, and walks back. “I expect your obedience in all things. I mete out punishment and pleasure as I see fit, and as you deserve. I’m not hard, nor am I unfair, but I am strict.”
“Okay,” Alex says and shifts on his knees. “I’ll be more careful. It’s just, the cab, and traffic—”
Mahiro flicks his crop out and taps him on the shoulder. He doesn’t hit him hard, but it probably is startling.
“Ow!” Alex snaps. “What’s that for?”
“Stop making excuses. Or it’s your ass next.”
Alex opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but Mahiro sends him his most quelling look, standing over him with legs spread and crop over his shoulder. It’s an intimidating picture, he knows; he’s calculated his entire persona to be so without verbalizing much at all. Alex closes his mouth and kneels there, staring at Mahiro with wide blue eyes.
That’s got his attention. Mahiro circles him once again, wondering how long he could actually kneel there without getting tired. His muscle tone is still perfect, and, as he looks more closely, there is the telltale bruise on his hip from a fall on the ice. He reaches out with his crop and drags the leather tongue from Alex’s nape to his waist in a long, slow pull, and watches Alex’s skin twitch ever so slightly.
“You’re going to do so much better, Alex. I know you can. We’re going to forget all about the last five minutes and start again. Shall we try out a few things and see if you like them?”
“Okay,” Alex says, slightly sullen.
Mahiro snaps forward and takes Alex by the chin, forcing him to look Mahiro in the eyes. “That’s ‘yes, sir,’ Alex. I will have you be respectful in my space.”
Alex’s nostrils flare slightly, and he looks at Mahiro like he wants to pull his head away. He’s lived his entire life with people catering to him, allowing him to have his own way, and even with his best intentions, he’s still struggling to let Mahiro lead him. Please don’t let him be as bratty as Christopher, Mahiro thinks. He could only handle Chris’s attitude once in a while, mostly when he was feeling particularly sassy himself and needed a challenge. But his style was too much for Mahiro every time, so they agreed they’d be better as occasional partners instead of long-term ones. Mahiro looks into Alex’s eyes and sees that same fight flaring up, but as they stare and weigh each other’s strengths, he can see the exact moment when Alex decides to surrender, his flash of temper dying like an ember in the rain.
“Yes, sir,” Alex says, the words barely a whisper, the tension in his shoulders slipping away. Mahiro breathes a sigh of relief. He’s won this battle of wills, the very first, most crucial one, and it should only get better from here.
“Wonderful,” Mahiro coos and lets go of Alex’s chin to cup his cheek instead. “Such a good boy. Now, I’ve got something I’d like you to try.” He walks back over to the cabinet and pulls out a short length of red rope. “I plan to bind your hands behind your back. I will check in with you occa
sionally as I do this, by asking you ‘Color?’ and your response will be green if you wish to continue, yellow if you want to continue but you’d like me to slow down, and red if you would like me to stop. If at any time you need out of your binding and out of the scene entirely, say your safeword. What is it again?”
“Salchow,” Alex says immediately and nods. He’s eyeing the rope in Mahiro’s hands, but he doesn’t look nervous. He looks excited, probably at the novelty of it. But he has to be slightly uncomfortable by now; he’s been on his knees for almost twenty minutes. Mahiro looks closely at his legs to see if they’re trembling and notices a scar running up the top of his right knee, and almost calls it off right there. It’s Alex’s surgical scar from his ACL repair his third year into Seniors. Fuck. Mahiro had forgotten entirely. He considers asking about it, but he’s going to let Alex tell him what is okay and what isn’t. Nothing they’re doing tonight will be that stressful, and Alex seems rock steady as he kneels.
“Color?” he asks, just to be sure.
“Green,” he replies easily.
“Then put your hands behind your back,” Mahiro says, and Alex does immediately, even tipping his head down to his chest in anticipation. It makes Mahiro shiver a bit to see him so sweetly trusting, and he doesn’t flinch away when Mahiro begins to wrap his wrists together, tying them up with a quick-release loop just in case he panics. He slips a finger into the binding to make sure it’s not too tight and then steps back to admire. “Color?”
“Green.”
Yes, as lovely as he’d hoped, Alex’s strong, muscular back and arms in sharp relief under the warm lights of the playroom, his head bowed and showing off a gorgeous nape, the edge of his hair recently trimmed and the rest looking soft and touchable. Mahiro steps forward and lightly presses his fingers right into the base of Alex’s skull, the edge of his hair prickly under his fingertips. He’s close enough to feel the heat from Alex’s body when he whispers in his ear.
“You’re so beautiful like this, Alex. Do you like it so far?”
Alex swallows heavily. “Yes. Sir,” he adds quickly.
Mahiro steps around to his front. “Are you wondering what I might do next, now that I have you helpless, kneeling at my feet?”
Alex lifts his head and opens his eyes. “Yes, a little. I don’t know what will happen.”
Mahiro laughs. “That’s the beauty of submission, Alex. You don’t have to worry about it. That’s what I’m here for. Color?”
“Green,” Alex says without hesitation. Mahiro cheers internally.
“Then I want you to do me a little favor. I’m getting rather warm in this room. I want you to take my pants off. Without using your hands.”
Alex’s eyes go comically wide. He’s sitting there in only his underwear, absolutely unabashed, but it seems Mahiro being in the same state might be a bit much? “H—how do I—”
Oh, no, that’s not the issue. He’s afraid of failing. “You’re a smart boy. Figure it out.”
Mahiro steps just far enough away that Alex will have to lean slightly to try to reach him. He almost laughs at Alex’s comical expression, like he can’t decide if Mahiro is insane, utterly mean, or just trying to get his dick involved. “I’m waiting,” he says instead.
“Yes, sir. I… well. Okay, then.” He looks puzzled for a moment before he leans forward and noses Mahiro’s black athletic shirt up and out of the way of the waistband of his soft pants, and Mahiro pulls in a sharp breath. Yes, good boy. It’s your turn now. Show me what you’ve got.
Alex looks up and must realize that Mahiro likes this game, and the puzzled look on his face turns into a sly smile. He takes the edge of the elastic waistband in his teeth and tugs it down one side, dragging his nose along Mahiro’s stomach as he goes. He then returns to the other side, giving it the same treatment, and Mahiro slides a hand into his hair as he does. His breath is a warm flutter against Mahiro’s skin, arousal zinging up his spine, and he wants so much just to drop all the slow tease, all the pretense, and just fuck his mouth right here, feed him his cock until he’s gagging on it. Alex keeps pulling his pants down his thighs, much more slowly than he could be, and drags his lips across Mahiro’s quad as he moves to work down the other side. Mahiro can feel himself start to harden in his briefs, unable to resist the soft silk of Alex’s hair against his thighs or the warmth of his mouth against his skin.
“So clever,” Mahiro croons. “See, I knew you could do it.” Alex pulls back and gazes at Mahiro’s very obvious erection, triumphant. Mahiro steps out of his pants and kicks them to the side. “How are you feeling?”
“Really turned on,” he breathes, a flush suffusing his face. He’s slightly embarrassed about it but not entirely, and exhibitionism is definitely on his yes list.
“Yes, I can see that.” Alex is hard, too, and the outline of his cock against his briefs is very, very promising. “You’ve done so well, darling. Would you like to take care of that?”
Alex nods.
“When I ask you a question I expect a direct answer,” Mahiro reminds him, voice silky smooth.
“Yes, sir.”
Mahiro walks behind him and releases his bindings with a quick tug. All the ropes fall clear of his hands with a slight shimmy, and Mahiro checks his wrists. Just a slight tinge of pink and barely an imprint.
“Go lie on that lounge, Alex,” Mahiro says and directs him to a leather Victorian-style fainting couch. “And let me watch you. I want to see what you like.”
Alex stands rather quickly, almost too quickly if the first stumbling step he takes is any indication. Mahiro steadies him with a hand on his arm until the head rush passes and helps him lie down on the lounge. “Will you stay close?” Alex asks, already reaching into his underwear. “Will you… will you touch yourself too?”
“I may, depending on how nicely you do,” Mahiro says, palming himself as Alex watches him with heated eyes. Of course you’re going to touch yourself. Who are you even fooling with this nonsense? “Give me a show, Alex. Make me want it.”
Alex arches when he finally takes hold of his erection, sliding his hand over the head behind the veil of his underwear. Mahiro raises an eyebrow, and Alex just smirks before he pulls his briefs down over his hip bones and frees his cock to Mahiro’s hungry gaze.
God, it’s gorgeous. Thick and full and leaking, balls flushed and heavy against his thighs. His hair is surprisingly dark as it curls over his groin, neatly trimmed and sparser than Mahiro thought it might be. Alex draws his thumb down the underside of his cock and lets out a shuddering moan that lights Mahiro’s senses with a cascade of electric lust.
Mahiro sits down carefully at the end of the lounge and watches, rapt, as Alex loses himself in his own touch, fingers dancing a quick rhythm over his shaft. It’s too early in their relationship to touch him the way Mahiro wants, too soon to take what he knows he likely could. “Slow down,” Mahiro says and touches Alex on the foot to reinforce his presence. “Make it last for me. Have you ever done this for anyone before?”
Alex drags his hand down his cock and holds it there a moment, thighs flexing with the effort of holding himself back. “Nooo… oh God, this is. My first time doing it quite like this. Fuck.” He uses his other hand to pinch his nipple, and Mahiro can feel his own face heat as he imagines little jeweled clamps instead, ready to be flicked and played with until he pulls them off and the sensation of blood returning makes Alex moan.
“You look beautiful,” Mahiro says, and pushes the heel of his hand against his own cock. “I’m so proud of you, Alex. So brave. And you like it, don’t you. You like making me happy.”
Alex pants the closer he gets, his chest flushed, and an adorable crinkle appears over his nose. “You’re so beautiful, Mahiro,” he says, and Mahiro can feel his own body tingle from scalp to toes, startled into reaction by the unexpected praise. “I’m—I’m so close, I—” And just like that he goes rigid, his orgasm rippling through his body. Come lands across his stomach in fat white drops that
gleam in the light.
Mahiro wants to taste one. Feel him on his tongue and know his taste.
Instead he climbs up onto the lounge to kneel across Alex’s legs, careful that no part of him touches Alex’s body, and pushes his underwear down until he can free his cock enough to get a hand on it. Alex’s half-lidded eyes watch him as he strokes himself fast and hard, his breath harsh in his nose. “Color,” he snaps. He wants to mark him, own him, take him in hand and turn him into the exact thing Mahiro craves more than any other, wrapped up in the person Mahiro’s spent years dreaming of, and the thoughts frighten him a little. He needs to know Alex is still with him.
Alex’s eyes flash up to Mahiro’s. “Green, please,” he whispers, his voice slightly hoarse. “Please.”
Mahiro chokes back a groan as he feels himself get closer, closer, his hand harsh and dry on his cock but pushing him higher, and all that keeps him grounded is a pair of intense blue eyes.
He comes over his own fist, the fluid dripping through his fingers and landing to mingle with Alex’s on his stomach. Mahiro stays above him and they lock eyes, and he realizes that if nothing else, Mahiro wants Alex to have no regrets about what he’s chosen to do. Mahiro knows, as he watches his childhood crush, his lifelong idol, smile lazily and drag his fingers through the come smeared across his stomach, that it’s likely Mahiro will have enough regrets for both of them.
Chapter 4
ALEX SMEARS his fingers through the come on his stomach, elated, as Mahiro still drags in heaving breaths above him. His body still isn’t touching Alex’s in any way; his thighs, as perfectly muscled and sculpted as Alex’s own, are still holding him above Alex’s lap.
They lock eyes, and that singing electric spark, that humming awareness of something between them is back in waves. Alex wants to kiss him, wants to surge up and crush Mahiro to his chest, ravish his mouth, feel their bodies slide together slick with come and sweat. Wants to make Mahiro crave him.
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