Florentine

by Mazarin Stone

  “Ah, no. I’m not good at dealing with the business side of it. My sister will take over when my parents no longer wish to continue. I’ll just support her in it if I need to.” Mahiro fiddles with his napkin and looks around the restaurant, the gold-and-maroon walls, paintings of Madrid and bullfighters and gardens covering most of the space.

  Alex wonders what’s making him uncomfortable. Maybe he shouldn’t ask about home. Maybe it’s stressful, or he has a bad relationship there.

  “I try not to mess too much with the business side of things myself,” Alex says and looks over the wine when the waiter returns. He obligingly takes a sip, determines it’s acceptable, and gestures his approval to pour. “I’m hopeless with numbers, and frankly it’s boring as hell. I finally hired an accountant to deal with most of that for me.”

  “Adding and subtracting six figures way over your head, then?” Mahiro teases, and Alex rolls his eyes.

  “Shut up. I have lots of weird bills, okay? I had a Swarovski crystal budget once. It was a nightmare.”

  Mahiro laughs, a true one, head tipped back and eyes crinkled shut. “Of course you did. I bet you were the sparkliest thing on the ice.” Mahiro finishes his first glass of wine and pours another, then rests his chin on his fist to grin at Alex.

  “You laugh, but my last Olympic costume was over something like eighteen thousand US.”

  “More like twenty,” Mahiro says, then his eyes get round. “I’m so sorry, that’s so awkward. I may have… I may have googled. A little bit.”

  Alex shrugs. “That’s okay. I fully expected you would have, once you told me you knew who I was.”

  Mahiro blushes so red Alex is worried he’s going to pass out. He folds his napkin in his lap and bows his head. “Well, I mean. You were in the Olympics. It’s sort of hard to miss you.”

  “Especially when I sparkle.”

  Mahiro snorts. “Especially when you sparkle.” He lifts his eyes to meet Alex’s and he seems a bit more at ease. “What was it like?” he asks, voice wistful. “Was it as amazing and wild as everyone says?”

  Alex laughs and scoops up a piece of chorizo from the plate the waiter has surreptitiously slid onto the table. He pops it in his mouth and chews, considering. “Well, yes and no. It’s a spectacle, absolutely. But I was twenty-five when I went to Sochi, and I had experience, and it seemed much less overwhelming. Like I didn’t have to do everything at once this time.”

  Mahiro slants him a knowing look. “But Vancouver? You weren’t quite twenty-one then, right?”

  Alex laughs. “Yeah. Vancouver.” He wonders just how much he should tell him, but of all people, Mahiro would probably understand. “I had my first threesome there, the night after I won gold. I honestly don’t think I was sober for at least two days. Maybe longer.”

  Mahiro’s eyes widen in faux shock. “Scandalous! I’m surprised at you, Mr. Breschi.” He demurely looks up at Alex through his eyelashes. “I would have never guessed you were so adventurous.”

  Alex grins. “Indeed? I thought you’d know that by now,” he says and takes a swallow of wine. “But what about you? You must have some wild stories.”

  “None fit for here,” Mahiro says and rearranges the plates so that the ham-and-chicken croquettes are closer to his side. Alex snatches one and gets a light smack on the hand. He giggles and eats it anyway, despite Mahiro’s pretty pout. “I’ll tell you some later, when we’re alone.” Mahiro drags his fingers around the rim of his glass. “I know your list, and I know some things are on the soft limit,” he whispers. “So having a bit of an audience isn’t an issue?”

  Alex smirks. Now they’re in interesting territory. “No, not really, under the right circumstances. I’d have to trust the people I’m with, so that pictures don’t end up splashed across the tabloids.”

  Mahiro nods. “Good to know.”

  “You seem like you’re planning something.” Alex is slightly suspicious, and a lot curious, and maybe a bit excited. Mahiro doesn’t say anything, though, and bends down to retrieve the small box he’s been carrying from where he tucked it under the table, and slides it across to Alex.

  “I want you to take this to the bathroom and open it in private,” he says, voice low. “If you decide to wear it, bring me back my part. If you don’t, just bring me back the entire box. Would that be okay?” Mahiro’s eyes sparkle with mirth, and a devilish smirk graces his lips. Alex picks up the plain white box and tests the weight of it. It’s not heavy, it doesn’t rattle, and it’s not really big enough for anything particularly obnoxious. But it’s definitely something. He pushes away from the table and snakes his way between the other diners and toward the restrooms.

  When he pushes his way inside, there’s no one else in there, and he immediately locks himself in a stall. He opens the box, and there, nestled in white tissue paper, is a small black plug, and next to that is a tiny remote control. There’s even a tiny sachet of lube, and under it all is a note. Alex takes it out and reads:

  For my beauty. A little fun if you desire it. If you ever wish to stop, simply say your safeword.

  Alex grins, completely flabbergasted but really turned on. This might be one of the most interesting dates he’s ever been on. He coats the plug with lube before carefully seating it inside his body with a sharp hiss. It’s not particularly big, but its shape presses right against his prostate. The pressure makes him shiver, but as he stands, he realizes it’s not going to really interfere with walking or anything else. He tucks the note in his pocket along with the remote, and tosses the box in the trash.

  He walks back out into the dining room and places the remote next to Mahiro’s glass before he sits down carefully. Mahiro’s eyes blaze with heat.

  “There are no rules,” he says. “This is just some fun between us. I don’t expect anything of you. Do you understand?”

  Alex nods. It’s just a little silly, sexy game, without punishment or requirements. This is Mahiro being playful, in that delightful way he has of being both incredibly shy and incredibly straightforward at the same time. When Alex realized he was getting both Mahiro and his master tonight, he didn’t realize just how intertwined those things could be.

  Because this is Mahiro wondering how far Alex will allow the intersection of Mahiro’s desires inside and outside the formality of the playroom. As Mahiro carefully pockets the remote and takes a sip of wine with a raised eyebrow, it seems Alex manages to pass the very first test.

  ALEX WORRIED for a little while that, once they were outside the shared interest that brought them together, conversation would falter. But as they finish up dinner and take care of the check, they’re still talking. About New York, about traveling, which Mahiro has done quite a bit of. About Mahiro’s years at school in Detroit. About St. Petersburg, about Alex’s pushy and overinvested family. About Mahiro’s years training as a danseur, until he gave up full-time dancing for his university degree.

  “I wondered where those thighs had come from,” Alex says as the cab heads toward Brooklyn and their next stop. “I mean, I’ve seen some amazing legs on people before, and it takes significant dedication and work to get there. Now it makes sense.”

  “Yes, well.” Mahiro sighs and looks out the window. “I did work hard. I still dance, sometimes. Do some choreography too.”

  Alex brightens. “Really? That’s amazing! Who do you choreograph for? What sorts of shows? Can we go see one?” Alex slams his hand onto the seat as the cab hits a manhole cover and jolts the plug. Fuck.

  “Whoa, hang on, it’s just for kids, Alex, seriously. It’s nothing important. And I only do it occasionally. I have an actual job, you know.” Mahiro notices the tension in his arm as he braces himself for another jolt, and just smirks at him, the bastard.

  Alex tries to focus, to ignore the warm curl of pleasure creeping up his spine. “But I want to see. I bet it’s beautiful.” He can see it now: the grace of Mahiro’s movements in the light of dance, the delicate arch of ballet in the bend in his spine when h
e stands over Alex in the playroom. He’s surprised he’d not noticed it before, honestly. He shakes his head at his complete lack of attention to detail and realizes they’re pulling up to their destination.

  “Here we are,” he chirps, and pays the driver before Mahiro can even get out his wallet. “Oh no. It’s starting to sprinkle.” He looks up at the sky, drops sparkling against the streetlights. “Come on, Mahiro, before it really rains.” He pulls him out of the cab and into the building, a huge glass conservatory glowing with light.

  “Oh, I know this. It’s the butterfly garden!” Mahiro says, enchanted. “I’ve never managed to come here, though I’ve wanted to.” He looks around the lobby as Alex pulls up his email with his tickets. “I didn’t think it was open this late, though,” Mahiro says, and frowns.

  “It’s a special event—Wine Flight,” he explains and ushers Mahiro into the double doors that enter into the conservatory proper. “Wine and desserts and viewing the butterflies. I got incredibly lucky this was tonight, really.” They open the second set of doors and the air is immediately warmer, more humid, with the rich smell of soil and plants and water. He looks up and there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering near the ceiling, floating around the plants, or sitting and sipping up nectar from strategically placed plates full of fruit, flowers, and water. The rain has started to fall, running in streams down the glass in shimmering rivulets, giving the entire room a strange, otherworldly look. It’s perfect.

  Mahiro is absolutely fascinated. He takes Alex’s hand with an excited grin and pulls him down the first path until they reach a branch populated with cobalt blue and black butterflies. His phone is in his hand immediately and he takes a few pictures, then observes them more closely.

  “They’re so beautiful close up. Look, you can see every little hair, every feathery color.”

  Alex feels light, happy that his choice has gone over so well. “Can I get you something? Wine or a dessert? Looks like they have cream puffs, or éclairs, or maybe some cookies.”

  Mahiro bites his lip, hesitating. “I really shouldn’t,” he says and frowns.

  “When’s the last time you had dessert?” Alex asks, the echo of Mahiro’s use of the word “chubby” earlier in the evening bouncing around his head. “There’s nothing wrong with having dessert once in a while.”

  Mahiro quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, I’d love an éclair. Please. And red wine. A cabernet, or Malbec. Thank you, Alex.”

  Alex smiles and kisses his cheek before he almost skips over to join the line next to the table near the door. There are little screened domes over the desserts to keep the butterflies away, and the piles of cream puffs look delectable. Alex is next in line and considering his choices when the plug in his ass vibrates, just a little buzz, enough to startle him into turning around.

  To see Mahiro carefully examining the large white hibiscus flower nearby.

  Alex almost laughs. So that’s how he’s playing it, is it?

  Alex carefully takes a breath and orders, ready for the buzz of the plug again, but Mahiro does him the favor of not doing it while he’s talking to people. “Thank you,” he says to the woman at the table, and takes the wine in one hand and the single plate with their two desserts in the other, and makes his way back to Mahiro.

  “You’re smart to not make me drop these,” Alex murmurs. “Because I probably would have.”

  Mahiro takes a sip of his wine. “Mmmm. Well, I’d hold on tightly to everything, if I were you,” he says, smug. He takes the éclair from the plate and takes a huge bite, a dollop of cream left on his nose, and the sight of it is so ridiculously at odds with the game they’re playing Alex can’t help but laugh. Mahiro flushes and goes to wipe it off, but Alex darts in and kisses it from his skin, sweet and creamy.

  “Delightful,” Alex says, fingers pressed against Mahiro’s jaw.

  Mahiro’s eyes go wide, a play of false innocence that Alex barely registers before he feels it—an intense, undulating wave of pleasure centered on the plug in his ass. He gasps, the sound ruffling a small group of butterflies and sending them into flight.

  “Shhhh, don’t want to make a scene, do we?” Mahiro purrs in his ear as Alex steadies himself by leaning on one of the pillars that hold up the roof. He can feel himself starting to grow hard, and he turns away from anyone else near them and frantically scans the names of the plants in the conservatory until the toy stops.

  “Oh, I’m going to get you back for this,” Alex says, breath heavy in his chest. “I don’t know how, but I am.”

  Mahiro giggles—honestly, this boy—and simply walks farther down the path to admire a full-blooming orchid teeming with shimmering cobalt butterflies, interspersed with a few yellow swallowtails and monarchs. Alex sucks in a breath and follows him, and the vibrations stop. Thank fuck. He can catch his breath and at least attempt a reasonable imitation of a man out on a normal date, not one simmering under his skin with unquenched desire.

  “I thought I’d make a butterfly garden next spring,” Mahiro says, as if the hand not holding his wine isn’t wrapped around the instrument of Alex’s exquisite torture, hidden in his pocket. “Bees, too. A pollinator paradise.”

  “Bees?” Alex says stupidly, earning him a bright, all-too-innocent smile. He can’t even think, much less focus on having actual conversation right at this moment.

  “Yes. My mother has a flower garden. I love it. I thought I could recreate a tiny piece of home.”

  Ah, yes. Alex certainly understands that. “Where is home, exactly?” he asks, as his heart finally slows and he regains some small measure of control.

  “Just a tiny little town in Japan. Our restaurant is almost the only destination in town. It’s been there so long people come from all over to eat there.”

  “Hotaru,” Alex says slowly. “Right?”

  Mahiro nods.

  “What does that mean? Does it mean anything?”

  Mahiro smiles. “It means ‘firefly’ in Japanese. It’s a beautiful place in summer; there are fireflies all along the grounds in June. When my great-great grandfather opened the restaurant, that night, the fireflies came out and milled all around the guests. We still have an outdoor garden with seats so guests can experience it themselves. Almost a hundred and twenty years we’ve been doing this. It’s beautiful.”

  “I think I’d like to see it someday,” Alex muses and reaches out to carefully run a finger down the soft petals of an orchid. “If it produced something as lovely as you.”

  “Flatterer,” Mahiro says, but the tips of his ears are pink.

  “Truth,” Alex says, and turns toward him again, swaying close enough to smell his cologne, pick up his hand. He brushes a kiss across Mahiro’s knuckles, lingering a moment, his gaze never leaving Mahiro’s face.

  “I’m… not really used to this,” Mahiro says and glances down at Alex’s hand wrapped around his own. “Is everything still okay?”

  Alex puzzles, and then realizes Mahiro’s referring to their little game. He’s not accustomed to dating, wants to make sure he’s not crossed a line. “Absolutely perfect,” he says.

  “Good,” Mahiro says and slips away from him, only to sashay along a path that leads over a small bridge and a stream set into the plantings. His hips roll as he walks, and Alex’s dick twitches again watching him, wonders if he’ll ever get to feel those thighs wrapped around his hips. The vibrator buzzes to life again as Mahiro steps across the bridge, and Alex jumps.

  “Unfair,” he calls after him. Mahiro just winks and beckons him to follow.

  Alex shakes his head and darts after him, only to turn the corner and find Mahiro waiting for him in a little alcove completely surrounded by climbing vines interspersed with tall, feathery palm trees. It’s quiet and slightly private, and Mahiro settles on a bench near a small feeding station playing host to a single bright yellow striped swallowtail. He takes another prim sip of his wine and grins, one leg crossed over the other and bouncing slightly with amusement.

  “No
w. What was it you were saying?” Mahiro says, as Alex stares down at him.

  “Oh, you—” Alex gets out before the toy starts again, a sharp buzz this time, one that doesn’t relent, and Alex bites his lip to hold back a moan. It’s pressing hard against his prostate, and he’s sure he’s leaving a wet spot on the front of his jeans. Mahiro just smirks at him, eyes sparkling, and Alex wants nothing more than to leave him as breathless and turned on as he is. So he braces his hands on the back of the bench on either side of Mahiro’s head and bends forward until he can nudge their mouths together into a whisper of a kiss, a delicate brush of lips and teasing breaths until Alex whimpers. He’s almost to the point of overstimulation, and his hands are beginning to shake. Mahiro must understand because the toy switches off again.

  “I want you,” Alex breathes against Mahiro’s cheek. “You’re driving me insane.”

  Mahiro turns his head and tugs on Alex’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Then let’s get out of here.”

  THE RAIN has moved off when they step outside, the pavement shimmering wet and the air heavy with humidity. There’s a tiny bit of a breeze that ruffles Alex’s fringe, and the cooler air that’s come after the rain soothes his heated skin.

  Mahiro walks next to him and darts sly little glances every so often, glances that hold the promise of something more after they reach… well. Home, Alex supposes, but they’ve not yet flagged down a cab to decide. Now that they’re out on the sidewalk, soaking up the feel of the city, Alex is content for the moment to walk alongside him, drag out the anticipation that wound taut in the heat of the conservatory. He reaches out and tangles their fingers together, earning him a smile.

  “I feel like we’re taking this just a bit backwards,” Alex muses as they walk. “I mean, we’ve already, well.” Alex feels oddly shy talking about it in the open like this, but…. “But I’m just now holding your hand.”