Florentine

by Mazarin Stone

  “Ah. Okay. I just wondered, I guess. What it would take for a Dom to decide to collar a sub.” Alex can hear the lame excuse for the question and he scrambles. “For the book, you know.”

  “Yes, for the book,” Mahiro says absently, a finger drawing across Alex’s collarbone. Alex lets his head fall back against Mahiro’s shoulder, then turns his head and notices Mahiro’s gold nipple rings. He reaches out a tentative finger and traces one. Mahiro shivers.

  “Is it okay if I touch them?” Alex asks. “You said I could if I did well.”

  “Yes, I did. I thought maybe earlier, but. Um. Yes. You may.”

  Alex touches the gold hanging from his right nipple and watches the nipple itself grow hard and pebbled. He looks amazing. Alex absently wonders if he should do something like it.

  “Did it hurt?” he asks and flicks one lightly, just to see how very sensitive Mahiro’s nipples really are.

  “Oh, God. Um. Yeah, it hurt quite a bit, but it was good, right after. Okay, that’s enough of that,” Mahiro says and kisses Alex’s fingers before putting his hand back. “Playtime is over, remember?” he says, but the threat is a playful one.

  Alex smiles against his skin. God, it feels so good to be here with him like this, a quiet, intimate space for just the two of them, where they can just talk. Mahiro draws his fingers up Alex’s neck, massaging the heavy tendon at the junction of his shoulder, then shifts slightly.

  “I need to do your face,” he whispers. Alex can feel his cock, hard against his back, but ignores it. Mahiro slips out from behind him and, to Alex’s shock, he straddles Alex’s lap, washcloth in hand. Alex’s hands immediately go to his hips and sink in a little.

  “Close your eyes,” Mahiro says and lightly drags the cloth in little circles over Alex’s cheeks, chin, and forehead, before wringing it out in the warm water and wiping the soap off. His cock barely brushes Alex’s stomach, and he can feel himself getting harder under Mahiro’s gentle ministrations, at the weight of his body on Alex’s lap. Mahiro drops the cloth into the water, his hands coming to rest on Alex’s chest, and Alex’s heart speeds up as they stare at each other, the water completely still around their unmoving bodies. Mahiro bites his bottom lip, and his eyes drop to Alex’s mouth.

  “Mahiro,” Alex rasps and tries to wrap his arms around Mahiro’s waist and pull him in for a kiss. But Mahiro pushes himself backward to the other end of the tub and sucks in a deep breath.

  “I’m finished,” he chokes out. “Feel free to stay in as long as you want. I’ll be in the playroom when you’re ready.” He lifts himself out of the water and grabs a towel to wrap around his waist, not even trying to dry off before he walks out of the bathroom.

  Alex smiles to himself, incredibly turned on and hope filling his heart, until he realizes it’s already mid-June.

  He’s running out of time.

  Chapter 7

  MAHIRO COMBS through the tails of his suede flogger and carefully lays them out on the table in one smooth line. He eyes them critically, looking for any flaws in the leather that could leave an unexpected mark or a cut, or for tresses that have broken completely. So far everything looks fine, but a few have stretched, the leather becoming slightly worn, so he snips them even with a sharp pair of leather-working scissors before hanging the flogger up in the cabinet to dry.

  He wonders idly if Alex would like the heavier flogger hanging next to it, and imagines, for just a moment, the deep thud of the longer, heavier leather as it lands on Alex’s back, then later, pressing kisses to the sweet curve of his spine, the skin hot and damp under his lips as he fucks into him slowly.

  As it is he can’t stop thinking about what it would have been like to kiss him Sunday, if he’d given in to the pull he felt to fit his mouth across Alex’s, to sample his taste, to lick into his mouth and nip at his lips until they were red and swollen and glossy. He came so close, but the warnings he’d given himself rang loud and clear at the very last second.

  You can’t have this.

  He can have everything inside the playroom he wants but nothing outside, and he needs to ruthlessly beat down that small match flame of hope that keeps striking in his chest whenever he sees Alex smile.

  “Can I borrow your spreader bar for Wednesday?” Adam asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  “Why, yours broken?” Mahiro asks and pulls it out of the drawer and hands it to him.

  Adam looks it over and checks the clips. “Yeah, one of the cuffs got twisted last weekend. I’m sort of pissy about it, actually.”

  Mahiro nods, understanding. Their stuff is expensive to replace, but people are unpredictable. “Speaking of borrowing things, do you have any candles left?”

  Adam opens a drawer in his cabinet and pulls one white pillar from a box. “Next to last one. I’ll make more. Planning a little something for Friday, I take it?”

  “Yeah, he put fire and ice on his yes list, so.” Mahiro pulls a dog chain collar from the drawer and puts it in the top part of the cabinet so it’s easy to find on Friday.

  Adam snickers. “I wish I could see it. He’s going to swear so much. Also, are you around Wednesday? I need a spotter, if you are.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Mahiro watches Adam pull out his long red silk scarves, the kind he favors to accent his suspension bondage knotwork, and Mahiro figures he’d better be ready to settle in for a long session. “Anyone I know?”

  “No, someone I met back in May. We’ve been chatting awhile, but it seems my reputation precedes me.” Adam wiggles his eyebrows. “It’s gonna be amazing.”

  Mahiro just snickers and finishes up with his cabinet. When he’s finished, he watches Adam line out all of his scarves so he can fold them into little unfurling roses. He loves all these little touches, Mahiro thinks fondly, and sits down on the bench with a scarf and tries it himself. When he’s finished, the rose is a bit lopsided and loose, and Adam laughs and takes it out of his hands to fold it properly.

  “Adam, do you think we’re strange?” Mahiro says.

  Adam’s hands still. “No, why?”

  Mahiro drops back to lie along the bench. He stares at the ceiling, at the constellation of hooks and eyes that shine from the rafters. “I don’t know.” He sighs. “I mean, look at us, like this. We’re planning activities and trading supplies for our sex dungeon like… I don’t know. Like this is what everyone does.”

  “Fuck everyone else,” Adam says. “And I know you think the same way. So what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

  “Alex asked me Sunday if I’d ever had a collared sub.”

  “And?” Adam says, the tone of his voice an obvious So what?

  Mahiro lifts his legs until his knees are almost up to his chin, the stretch in his spine making it pop. “Well, I mean, I know it’s not a big deal, but I’ve not even had a boyfriend in five years.”

  “Neither have I, you realize,” Adam says.

  “Yeah, but you’re a big slut, so—”

  “Hey, fuck you. You’re no saint.”

  Mahiro tries to laugh off his disquiet. “You know I’m kidding. But I mean. What if I never do? What if all this—” He waves his hand around the playroom. “—means I have to choose one or the other?”

  Adam puts down his scarf and comes over to look down at Mahiro’s face. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of Alex, Mahiro.”

  “I’m not thinking of Alex, Mahiro.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Me too. I almost kissed him Sunday,” Mahiro whispers, and it feels like a confession.

  Adam abruptly sits down on the floor, and Mahiro turns his head to look at him. “You’re kidding,” he breathes.

  “He was just… there, and so beautiful, and I just wanted to. And I’m pretty sure he wanted me to.”

  “That’s because Alex is a sweet little vanilla bean. I don’t care how many sessions you’ve had with him so far.”

  “Four.”

  “Okay, four. He’s used to kissing. As are most people.
That no kissing rule is just your own little thing.”

  “I know. I want to know what he’s like outside the playroom. I want to just… talk to him. And spend time with him.”

  “Seta Mahiro, you’ve still not told him about your skating career. Or, you know, your ridiculous lifelong obsession with him. You’re crazy to even be thinking of this until that happens.”

  “I know,” Mahiro says and closes his eyes to lift his head, only to drop it back to the bench with a clunk.

  And he does know. He knows bone-deep that even contemplating something so ridiculous when he’s still hiding the most significant fact of his life is just a setup for heartbreak. That, and Alex is only in New York until August. Two more months.

  He’s running out of time.

  9:48 A.M.

  I thought we’d try something new Friday.

 

  Alex 9:50 a.m.

  Oh wow. Yes. YES. Is that the fire and ice you told me about?

  9:51 a.m.

  Yes. You get an oil massage before, too, so the wax won’t stick to your skin.

  9:55 a.m.

  If I’m a good boy what do I get after ☺

  9:59 a.m.

  Greedy. You already get a massage and the amazing sensation of hot wax and ice on your skin. What do I get?

  10:08 a.m.

  My undying devotion. Sir.

  MAHIRO CLOSES the door to his bedroom at 6:55 p.m. on Friday and practically skips down the long staircase into the hall, swings around the elaborate wood newel post, and takes the steps to the basement two at a time. He remembered his lighter, his hair is well-secured back where an errant strand won’t accidentally get singed, and he’s got a little present for Alex clutched in his hands. Tonight will be amazing.

  As he reaches the bottom basement stair, he sees a sweep of platinum hair and his steps slow. To his utter shock, Alex is standing outside the playroom door, fully dressed, and their eyes lock as Mahiro takes the last step to stand in front of him.

  “Alex?” he asks, concerned. “Is everything okay?” Mahiro is pretty sure it isn’t, because he looks terrified.

  “Yes, I just… I was hoping to talk to you for a minute, before.” His fingers find their way into the hem of his T-shirt, and the sight of his little nervous tic makes Mahiro’s stomach seize, his entire persona collapsing under the weight of this unexpected conversation.

  “Of course. Is. Um. Is there something I should know, then, before we start? Do you need to cancel today?” Mahiro drops the small box he’s holding on the steps and gives Alex his full attention.

  Alex shakes his head. “No, not that. I just. I wondered….” Here he takes a deep breath and lets it out, then steps forward to take Mahiro’s hand. Mahiro’s body courses with the warmth of that touch, and his anxiety starts ramping up, preparing him for disaster.

  But Alex only smiles, bites his lip. Then: “Would you go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

  Mahiro exhales heavily and can feel his brain stutter to a halt under two warring factions. This is bad, but on a whole different level, where he’s fighting himself to do what he should and say no, when every other instinct is screaming yes. “Oh I don’t… I don’t know if that’s really a good idea,” he finally forces out.

  “Why not?” Alex asks and pulls Mahiro to him to wrap an arm around his waist, drawing them close enough that Mahiro can feel his breath on his cheek. “I know there’s something there, Mahiro. I know you feel it too.”

  Yearning starts to overtake his other senses. It’s been nearly a week since he’s seen Alex, and now to have him here, pressed so close…. He’s not strong enough, not against Alex’s hand splayed across his back and their fingers intertwined and Alex pressing a small kiss to his knuckles.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. I do feel… more, for you,” Mahiro says, and desperation and uncertainty paints his voice. He can hear it, and he knows Alex will too.

  “Then why not? I think… I think we could be good together. What you said, about wanting someone inside and outside of the playroom. I think I can be that. Let me show you.”

  “Alex….”

  Alex shushes him with a finger on his lips and opens the playroom door. Mahiro follows him inside and watches, silent, as Alex strips down and places all of his clothes on a chair. He then walks, prowling and graceful, to the red cushion in the center of the room and kneels in one smooth movement, hands perfectly placed on his thighs and back beautifully straight.

  Mahiro watches him a moment, almost unable to process the subtle shift in Alex’s demeanor as he waits, the way his shoulders lose their tension, the way his face relaxes into a gentle smile. He’s watching the transformation right before his eyes as Alex slips into submission, and Mahiro’s own body responds to it like a lifeline.

  He’s breathtaking.

  When he finally steps close, he feels his anxiety slip away like the wash of the tide, with the sweep of his fingers from Alex’s nape to his waist. Control asserts itself over the buzz of nerves in his stomach, and he stands in front of Alex and does the one thing he thought he never would do in his own playroom.

  He gives that hard-won control to someone else.

  “Show me, then,” Mahiro says, his voice low in his throat, “your undying devotion.”

  Alex shudders out a breath before he bends to press reverent and featherlight kisses to the tops of Mahiro’s feet, and then slides his hands up Mahiro’s calves and around to his thighs. He leans forward to bestow a kiss on each, his eyelashes butterfly wings against Mahiro’s skin, before Alex drags his mouth up to lip over the crest of Mahiro’s hip bone, bare over his low-slung pants.

  Mahiro drops his chin to his chest and sighs, taking in the top of Alex’s head, platinum hair shining and cheek tilted lovingly against Mahiro’s stomach.

  “I can be this, Mahiro. I can be more than this. Let me prove it to you. Please. Give me that chance.”

  Mahiro drops to his knees and presses their chests together, realizing this way how much shorter he is than Alex. He tilts his chin up and Alex’s eyes blaze, wanting. Mahiro nudges closer, ghosts his breath over Alex’s mouth. Alex chases his lips but Mahiro pulls away, edges under Alex’s jaw to kiss him there, and then down his neck to the curve of his shoulder.

  Mahiro’s entire body is running with quicksilver heat, buzzing through his veins and leaving him unable to focus on anything but this: what Alex can do to him, and what he does in return. Mahiro strips his pants off as Alex watches with burning eyes, and as he kneels, he urges Alex to turn around so Mahiro can slot himself between Alex’s knees and up against his ass. Alex gasps as Mahiro’s cock presses against his crease.

  He’s wearing his plug, and Mahiro shifts back to slowly, carefully pull it out. The glass clings to his skin with sticky remnants of lube, and Mahiro reaches for one of the many bottles stashed around the playroom to pump more into his hand and slick himself.

  “May I, bare?” he asks, and a full-body shudder runs down Alex’s back. “I’ve not been with anyone else.”

  “Please. I haven’t either. Please, I’m begging you.”

  Mahiro wraps one arm around Alex’s waist, the other hand splays at the base of his throat, and he carefully presses into Alex’s yielding body with a slow thrust, restraint burning in his thighs and Alex’s pulse beating under his fingertips. Alex sobs out a gasp when he’s fully seated, and Mahiro can’t stop himself from burying his face in between Alex’s shoulder blades and showering the skin with kisses.

  “Color?” he chokes out.

  “Green, fuck yes, green,” Alex growls and thrusts back against Mahiro’s body, fucking himself deeply on Mahiro’s cock.

  Mahiro slaps his flank and Alex gasps, then moans. “Yes, my beauty. Take your pleasure,” Mahiro whispers as Alex thrusts back again. Mahiro meets him halfway, their bodies colliding over and over with the lewd sound of skin on skin. Alex is tight around him, maddeningly so, and Mahiro startles at the feel of an orgasm already starting to build.


  Mahiro slaps his ass again, and then pulls them down until Alex is cradled in his lap and Mahiro can only use his hips to thrust up as far as Alex’s body will allow it. Alex shakes his head and then pulls off suddenly with a hiss, and as Mahiro scrambles in his head to sort out what went wrong, Alex turns around and backs Mahiro down until Mahiro is lying flat on the floor. Alex straddles him, settles back onto Mahiro’s cock, and begins to ride him, Mahiro’s hands clamped on his thighs.

  “Please, can I touch myself?” Alex says, and at Mahiro’s nod, Alex’s hand is pulling desperately at his own cock.

  He’s a vision like this, chest flushed with arousal, hair falling into his eyes, the bow of his mouth pink and round with pleasure. He huffs out little throaty gasps and moans every time their bodies meet, a soundtrack of sex that Mahiro will happily replay in his head until the day he dies.

  “This can be us, please, Mahiro,” Alex says. “God, yes, I’m coming. Are you close?”

  Mahiro’s body sparks at his name spoken in the breathless, mindless haze of Alex’s lust, and he claws around for some sort of purchase on the floor so he can fuck up harder, push those little groans into screams. As Alex’s body starts to tighten down, begins to go rigid, Mahiro pushes himself up until he can reach and sets his teeth to the junction of Alex’s neck and shoulder and bites down hard.

  Alex’s cock pulses in his hand and he screams, a long, drawn-out siren song of pleasure that has Mahiro coming in the space of a heartbeat, shaking apart at the seams and wondering if he is ever going to be the same again.

  When their lips finally meet in a shuddering, tearful, desperate kiss that has the longing of weeks, the weight of years behind it, Mahiro knows he won’t.

  THEY DON’T stop kissing; once the floodgates are open, the taboo removed, they don’t stop kissing each other even as the shower spray soaks them both, makes them both weak with heat and overstimulation and steam.