Florentine

by Mazarin Stone

  “No, not on the mouth,” he remembers. But before he can try to convince him otherwise, Mahiro climbs off Alex’s lap.

  “Stay there. I’ll be right back,” he says, looking at the floor. He walks toward the back of the room, aiming for a small door set into the wall. Alex can see what looks like a bathroom when the door opens. Alex swallows and stays still, as bidden, until Mahiro comes back with a wet cloth and a soft white robe.

  “Let me,” he says, and begins to clean up the mess on Alex’s stomach and chest. Alex puts out a hand to stop him.

  “No, I can—”

  Mahiro pauses and still won’t look up. “This is part of it, Alex. It’s called aftercare. You’ve given your submission to me, and it’s my responsibility to ensure your well-being after.” He finishes cleaning up, helps Alex rise, and puts the robe around his shoulders. “Now. Come with me so we can sit down and talk for a few minutes.”

  He leads them to the other end of the long, narrow playroom and near the bathroom door, where a soft, squishy sofa has been tucked into the corner. A small fridge is nearby, and as he opens it, Alex can see all sorts of drinks have been stashed inside. Alex is utterly bewildered.

  “Water, Gatorade, Perrier? I might have a Coke or something in there, too, if you want….”

  Alex stills him with a hand on his arm. “Water would be nice, but are you okay? This feels. Um. Rather abrupt.”

  Mahiro turns questioning eyes on him. “In what way?”

  “You just came on me. A hug might not go amiss.” Alex aims for humor and isn’t sure he quite hit his target, but Mahiro smiles anyway. Finally.

  “I was getting there. I just didn’t want to touch you yet, as we’re not… well. It’s early, and I tend to let people initiate first contact, to be honest. I want you to be ready for that level of intimacy.”

  Alex frowns. This feels all backward to him. He just tied him up, had Alex take off his pants, and then had Alex jerk off in front of him, and a simple hug is too intimate?

  Mahiro must sense his unease, because he takes him by the hand and leads him to the sofa to sit down and then seats himself at the other end, his feet tucked up under him, the low lights softening the smooth biceps on display in his loose black tank top. He’s still not wearing pants.

  “Alex, everything that happened today was all you, choosing to touch me. The only time I really touched you was when I touched your hair and cheek, which, I admit, was self-indulgent. Your submission was in touching me, and I have not yet really touched you, save to bind your hands, and once on the foot to help you focus.”

  Alex thinks back over the last half hour. He’s absolutely right. How did Alex not notice?

  “Will you ever?” he asks.

  “Oh, make no mistake, I absolutely will,” Mahiro purrs, a gleam in his eye. “I’ll use you for my pleasure as soon as I think you’re ready for it.”

  Alex can still feel the aftershocks of orgasm fluttering in his body. He closes his eyes. “Okay. I’m really… I’m looking forward to that.” There’s a pause, and Alex can feel himself flush.

  “How are you feeling about today, though?” Mahiro asks and touches Alex on the foot again, and he opens his eyes. “Did you like what happened?”

  “It wasn’t totally obvious?” Alex asks, and Mahiro giggles. “I really liked trying to figure out how to get your pants off. That was fun. And hot.”

  “You like a challenge.”

  Alex nods. “Yes, that, exactly. I wanted to do it. How does that even happen?”

  “Now you’re getting it.” Mahiro smiles, smug.

  “I really didn’t like getting snapped on the arm, though. That hurt.”

  “Yes, well.” Mahiro sighs. “Discipline is necessary. Just get it into your head right now that you’ll mess up eventually and I’ll have to punish you. I don’t really like it either, but you’ve got to learn somehow. And eventually you’ll find that it’s easier to submit to punishment than it is to worry and feel guilty about disappointing me.”

  Alex’s ears perk up. “Really? Because that’s what I was wondering, for the book, how that happens.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want that right now. You’re not quite ready to accept it.” Mahiro sends Alex another of his dark looks, and Alex shivers. “Though if you’re late again you’ll find out sooner than we’d both like.”

  “Got it. Sir.” Mahiro giggles again, and Alex realizes he was trying to provoke it this time. “May I ask how you got involved in this sort of thing?”

  “Oh.” Mahiro looks suddenly lost and slightly confused. Does no one ever ask about him? Chris said he knew very little, which seems odd, given how much time they’d spent together. “My ballet teacher, Rena. She’s a Domme, you know, the one who threw the party the other weekend. I sort of overheard her talking about a party once and asked her about it. I think I might have been all of twenty. She brushed me off, but I knew, even then, I had some inclinations. I did some googling, hit up FetLife, and found my way into the party anyway, and when she saw me there I thought she was going to utterly freak out. She grabbed me and almost dragged me out of there.”

  “But you convinced her to let you stay.”

  “Yes, by explaining what I was trying to do, and to learn. And eventually, after a few months of showing up to various munches and parties and basically bugging her with questions, she gave in and let me go with her so I could see what everything was, and if I really thought I liked it. I did, and she started to teach me everything she knew. I owe her a lot, really.”

  “Have you always been in New York?”

  Mahiro pauses, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth a moment. “No. I was born in Japan, but I went to Detroit for… for school. I went to university there. Then afterward, I just didn’t have a good job lined up and I wanted to stay in the US. I decided to try to stay in New York, as Rena had already moved here the year before. Adam was my roommate in Detroit, so we thought we’d move together, thought it would be easier to make a life here if we were a team.”

  Alex thinks. “So, how old are you now, if that’s okay?”

  “I’ll be twenty-seven this fall.” He laughs ruefully. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

  Aha. Alex was right that most people didn’t ask him about himself. “I find you fascinating, Mahiro. I want to know all about you. What you like, what you do. How I can please you.”

  Mahiro’s eyes flash up to his again. “Oh, I’ll teach you that, don’t worry.”

  “I can imagine you will.” Alex smiles and he knows it’s his most charming smile, the one he deploys to get what he wants, and it usually works. “Tell me, when do I get to see all of the other interesting toys in that cabinet? When will you show me your favorite?” Alex leans forward and puts his hand on Mahiro’s knee and tries to look as seductive as possible, even going so far as to let the sleeve of his robe slip off his shoulder.

  Mahiro lifts a single eyebrow, and Alex knows right then that sweet-talking him will be even more difficult than he’d imagined.

  “Oh no you don’t, mister. Playtime is over for tonight.” Alex pouts and Mahiro affectionately pushes his hair back away from his face. “But seriously, are you feeling okay? Not jittery, or feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

  Alex starts to answer but decides to give the question his full attention. “My knees are a bit stiff, yes. But that’s sort of my own fault.”

  Mahiro tenses. “Yes, I noticed your scar. I should have checked in earlier. Should we minimize the kneeling from now on? Are you still feeling sore?” He slides off the sofa and, after a questioning look and Alex’s affirmative nod, pulls Alex’s leg toward him, expertly feeling around the tendons and bones of Alex’s knee, prodding and massaging the muscles that keep him stable. It’s strangely familiar and soothing.

  “It’s just an old injury, from back when I skated, professionally I mean,” Alex says. “With Chris, that’s how we met.” Mahiro just hums and nods and continues to work on Alex’s knee. “You’re not a
doctor, are you?” Alex asks.

  Mahiro laughs. “Oh no. An app developer. I just know how knees can get, that’s all. I’ve done this a long time.” He finishes rubbing the stiffness from Alex’s lower quad, his knee, and his calf, and stands.

  “Here, it’s time you get dressed,” he says and brings Alex back to the stool where his clothes are. He shakes them out then helps Alex step into his pants. Alex puts a hand on his shoulder to help himself balance as Mahiro crouches in front of him.

  “Again, Mahiro, I can—”

  “I’ve found,” he says, as he pulls Alex’s pants up and buttons them, “that the act of aftercare, of service, can help ground people back into the real world. It gives you a feeling of control over me that brings balance to our relationship.” He helps Alex get his T-shirt on over his head and arms, and smooths it over his chest.

  “There. You’re on your own with socks and shoes, though,” he says and winks before walking away to pick up and slip on his own pants. Alex shakes his head, fond, and finishes up, puts his wallet and phone in his pocket and stands up. Mahiro waits a few feet away, watching.

  “Would you like to continue our arrangement?” he asks softly.

  Can he really not know? “Of course I would.”

  Mahiro rubs his palm on his hip. “Next Friday at seven still okay, then?”

  Alex can feel anticipation start to bubble up already, and he hasn’t even left. “Of course. Not one minute later than.”

  Mahiro smiles, and then to Alex’s utter shock, steps forward and folds him into a hug. “That makes me so happy to hear,” he says. “I look forward to it.”

  Alex wraps his arms around Mahiro’s smaller frame, almost completely enveloping him. He’s so small to wield so much power over Alex’s heart already. “Me too, Mahiro. Me too.”

  ALEX LEANS against the cab door and watches the buildings of Manhattan flash by, bright and colorful in the dark. The city still feels overwhelming, even after living in St. Petersburg his entire life, even after traveling all over the world for skating. He and Chris will only be here a short three months, just over the summer, and Alex isn’t sure it will feel comfortable even by then.

  Meeting Mahiro, though. That’s given him the strangest of footholds. A five foot six bundle of contradictions; hair dark and slicked back from his face when he’s working a scene, soft and tousled when he’s not; commanding and fierce and undeniably sexual and at turns soft and vulnerable and strangely sweet.

  Alex doesn’t know what to make of him, but he wants to know everything.

  He nods to the doorman of their sublet apartment and heads upstairs. He’s got to take a shower and clean up properly, maybe find a drink and reflect on the day. Hopefully his experience will process down into a good writing session tomorrow. He fits the key into the lock, and as soon as the door opens, a hand shoots out and drags him inside.

  “I don’t care what sort of come-covered mess you are, you’re going to sit your ass down and tell me every single thing,” Chris says and pulls Alex through the loft to the front room.

  “Hey, he cleaned up,” Alex says, so startled he can’t really think of anything else to say.

  Chris slaps both hands over his mouth. “Oh my God, I was just kidding. I didn’t think he’d actually do it that soon.”

  “Ah. Well. He just jerked off on me,” Alex mumbles, face suddenly really warm. He and Chris have talked about sex for years. Why is this suddenly so difficult?

  “Just? Oh, I knew it! He’s going to love you. What else?”

  Alex sighs, realizes he’s not going to get out of giving him the exact rundown of his evening, so he goes to the fridge, grabs a beer, and proceeds to tell Chris the entire story, beginning to end. Chris is so enthralled he barely interrupts, which is almost unheard of.

  “So,” Alex continues, “he told me that he was waiting for me, that he didn’t want to touch me until I was ready, or came to him. I told him I was, and before I left, he hugged me.”

  “My God. You’re going to own him. Did you like it, though? Did you enjoy it at all?”

  “Yeah, it was really… satisfying. Hot. Really sexy. I liked winning that little challenge, especially.” Alex takes a drink and points his beer bottle at Chris. “He said he thought I’d be competitive with you. Which, yes, of course. But it turned him on, watching me succeed. I want to see that look in his eye again, when he told me I’d done well. It was like the first time you land a quad combo, you know? Like you’re flying and your entire body works together perfectly and you skate out of the landing soft as a feather. Like you’re doing what you were made to do. It was unreal.”

  Chris smiles. “I honestly thought it would take you longer to figure it out, but Alex, you’re a natural born sub. Someone just needs to take you in hand, and it looks like it’ll be Mahiro. Lucky bitch.”

  “I know, right?” Alex finishes his beer and scrubs his hands through his hair. “I want more. I don’t know how to make that happen.”

  Chris leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You really can’t, though. I mean, you can ask him, but he’ll only do what you’re ready for, and what he’s ready for.”

  Alex tucks up into the corner of the sofa, reminded of how Mahiro tends to fold himself up on whatever he sits down on, and frowns. “Has he fucked you? He has, right?”

  “Oh honey. He had me on that fat dick ten minutes after I was in the house. But I’ve got experience, and you don’t.” Chris looks almost apologetic about it, and Alex shrugs. He shouldn’t feel jealous, but he does. He and Mahiro have shared a single experience, and Alex can’t let himself get possessive of his attention already.

  This isn’t at all good.

  “Alex, sweetheart. Come here.” Chris pulls him in and makes Alex lay his head on his lap. Alex goes willingly, needing the comfort and sympathy of his best friend more than anything else, even if he’s horribly jealous of him. “Mahiro is… he’s a delight. He’s fun and he’s creative and he’s kind. He’s also going to be the best person around to teach you what you need to know. But he doesn’t stay, honey. He doesn’t. He and I have a great time together, but we’re not going to fuck into the sunset, you know? I see him at parties maybe twice a year, and we’ve not done a scene in a couple of years now. He’s never kept anyone around permanently, that I’ve ever known.”

  Alex sighs into Chris’s hands in his hair. “Okay. I know you’re right. I’m thirty, and I feel absolutely stupid about this. I don’t even know him.”

  Chris huffs a soft laugh. “You know, neither do I, really. Now, go get yourself cleaned up and we’ll watch a movie, and tomorrow we’ll go clubbing. Let some hottie get all over it. That’ll make you feel better. Promise.”

  Alex nods and heads into the shower. But as he rinses the shampoo from his hair, he keeps thinking of Mahiro’s dark eyes, deep and bewitching, looking at him with longing as he watched Alex come.

  THE MOVIE does make him feel better, the clubbing makes him feel strange and creepy, and the twentysomething kid who tries grinding into Alex’s ass on the dance floor just makes him roll his eyes. Dancing itself, though, helps shake the amped-up feeling he gets whenever he thinks of Mahiro. He throws himself headlong into his writing while Chris is off at a photo shoot Monday and Tuesday and tries not to dive for his phone every time it chimes with an incoming message.

  He fails, though.

  By the sixth chime Wednesday afternoon, Alex slams his laptop closed and snatches up his phone, ready to chuck it out the window. It’s always some benign text, never what he really wants to see, which is an email from Mahiro about Friday.

  Except this time, as he jabs his lock screen off and stares at the notification bar, that’s exactly what it is.

  Alex,

  I hope you’ve had a good week. Please plan to arrive by seven p.m. again, and make your way to the playroom and be in waiting position, completely bare, by 7:05. I advise you to shower very thoroughly before you arrive.

  -Mahiro

  He stares
at the screen, knowing he’s not going to be able to focus the rest of the week.

  Shower very thoroughly? He’s been an out, active gay man his entire postpubescent life. He knows what that means. But already? Alex suppresses an excited little shiver.

  He tries to work, but he was right; he’s too keyed up. He really doesn’t want to wait for Chris to get back for dinner, so runs into his room and changes into workout gear, grabs his skates, and heads to the Sky Rink, just across lower Manhattan from their place in the East Village. Public practice hours are generous, and the place is wide open in spring, Alex has found, and keeping himself in shape enough to do the occasional ice show is worth the hassle of dealing with the few fans he knows he’ll run into occasionally.

  It’s strangely empty when he gets there, a lone dim figure across the ice casting shadows through the observation windows when he checks in at the desk. He sees them attempt a jump and they land it, amazingly enough. It looked like a triple, but he couldn’t be sure. Alex walks toward the ice, curious about someone with that level of talent, and decides he’s fine just leaving his shoes on the stands. No one will steal them, and he’s not changing clothes anyway, so he doesn’t even bother with the locker room. But when he pushes through the rink doors, there’s not a soul there. Whoever had been practicing must have left.

  So he shrugs, laces up, and takes full advantage of the empty ice to skate the full bloom of his attraction, the renewed hope of his heart. This is foolish, ill-advised, and reckless, but Mahiro has woken something in him, and he won’t rest until he’s figured out exactly what.

  ALEX CAN’T stop bouncing his leg in the cab on the way to Mahiro’s on Friday. It’s six thirty, and they’re caught in a flood of Manhattan traffic, but he should be there in plenty of time. His phone is functioning, he’s got it set for 6:59, and he plans to open that door ten seconds after his phone hits 7:00 p.m., come hell or high water.