“Honestly, it feels more intimate to do this,” Mahiro says. “It carries a lot of weight, of symbolism. Like kissing.” Mahiro stops, pulls Alex to a halt with him. “And I like to save some things to share only with people I really care about.”
Alex’s chest feels slightly constricted. “I’m really happy to hear that,” he finally says, and leans in to kiss Mahiro’s cheek. “And I’m honored.”
Mahiro just smiles and begins walking again. Alex follows, wondering where they’re heading, if anywhere. “There’s so much more we should talk about,” Mahiro says quietly. “I mean, we’re still really getting to know each other. There’s a lot I’ve not—”
Mahiro is interrupted by the flare of a trumpet from the small open square they’re passing, a trio of guitar, trumpet, and bass set up and rising to life after the rain. A few people have stopped to watch, and the slow, sensual beat of a tango swirls around them in the night air. Mahiro stops and watches, then turns to Alex with a grin, all previous conversation forgotten.
“Do you dance?” he demands.
“Well, um. A little, I mean, yes, but I’ve not—”
Mahiro grabs his hand and pulls him into the square, draws him up straight against his body where it’s held in a perfect frame. “I lead,” he says, and his hand settles on the small of Alex’s back and pushes his posture into the familiar arch he’s known for years on the ice.
The musicians stare with wide eyes as Mahiro leads Alex across the square in the slow, sexy steps of the tango, Alex falling into the sensuality of Mahiro’s steps drawing over and around his own, the flare of Mahiro’s movements pushing them together from chest to hips as they dance. He remembers the lessons under Madame Orney, her emphasis on ballet barely influenced by his coach’s insistence his skaters learn other types of dance, but the attention he did give his lessons pays off as Mahiro presses lightly on his hip and raises his eyebrows, and Alex spins around his body in a perfect boleo.
They’re attracting a little crowd now, claps and whistles punctuating every step. Mahiro looks like he’s having the time of his life, and when Alex falls into him, his weight supported on Mahiro’s chest and one leg hooked over Mahiro’s hip so Mahiro can pull him forward in an arrastre, the crowd goes wild and Mahiro tilts his head until they’re a breath away from kissing, right there on the street, in the middle of New York City on a wet, humid night under a full moon.
It’s likely the most perfect thing Alex’s ever experienced.
The song ends with Alex wrapped around Mahiro’s body, their cheeks pressed together, chests heaving and sweat beginning to shimmer on their skin. Alex’s arousal is back full force, and he can feel Mahiro’s cock pressing into his hip.
“Come with me,” Mahiro growls and drags Alex down the street after dropping some cash into the musicians’ guitar case.
“We can get a cab,” Alex protests, and then Mahiro yanks him into one of those dark, narrow, barely lit alleys New York has in abundance. Alex hits the brick side of the building with a thump and then Mahiro is on him, ravenously kissing his neck and trying to get Alex’s belt undone. Alex gasps and helps him, pushes his pants and underwear out of the way until Mahiro gets his hand on his cock and Alex can’t stifle a shout.
“Quiet,” Mahiro hisses and tugs down his own pants until his cock is free, then leans into Alex’s body and gets his hand around both of them. Alex gulps down another hiss and tilts his head onto Mahiro’s shoulder. Their shirttails are barely enough to cover them, but it’s obvious to anyone with half a brain what they’re doing there, hiding in the dark shadow of a building and entwined as they are.
“Fuck, I can’t wait,” Mahiro says, stroking them together with a rough hand. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy, Alex.” Mahiro drags Alex’s collar to the side and presses a kiss to the bruise on his neck, and Alex’s knees threaten to go out from under him.
“Oh God, Mahiro. Harder, dammit. Harder.”
“Yes,” Mahiro growls, grips them harder and begins to rock his hips. It’s too dry like this, too rough, but the friction and pressure of Mahiro’s hand, his cock, his lips, has Alex caught in a riptide of pleasure he doesn’t want to escape from, and in the blink of an eye his orgasm rises like the tide and overtakes him with an openmouthed cry.
“Fuck, fuck, shhhh, Alex, shhh,” Mahiro says, voice shuddering with passion. “I’m close, my beauty, I’m so close. Kiss me. Please.”
Jesus Christ, Mahiro is begging him. Begging him. Alex grips the sides of his face and kisses him with everything he has, rocking his hips into the now slick fist still wrapped around his spent cock, fucking against Mahiro’s body until Mahiro himself comes with a start and a shudder.
They’re both a bit dazed, bodies slick with cooling sweat and the remnants of come, Mahiro’s forehead pressed into Alex’s shoulder and breath coming hot and heavy and leaving a humid patch on his shirt. Mahiro rolls his head to the side a bit and giggles into Alex’s neck.
Alex has never been happier in his entire life.
“I HAD a really great night,” Mahiro says, shy smile peeking out from under his tipped-down fringe.
Alex reaches out to cup his cheek and lifts his face enough he can brush a gentle kiss across his lips. Mahiro sighs, and Alex pulls him in for a hug. “I did too. Thank you for giving me the chance.”
Mahiro smiles, glances down at Alex’s chest, then takes a deep breath and pins Alex with a wide-open look, one that’s slightly timid, maybe even nervous. “Will I see you Friday?” he asks.
Oh. Now Alex understands.
“Mahiro, I told you. Inside and outside the playroom. I want to know you, in every way I can.” Alex wonders just how much he should reveal, how much he should confess in his quest to give Mahiro the assurance he needs. “I’ve never found anyone so fascinating, Mahiro,” he murmurs against his forehead. “I love everything we do together.”
“Me too,” Mahiro says and tilts his head back for one last, leisurely kiss, one that could so easily lead to another round right there on the step if Alex isn’t careful. But they break apart with stupid matching grins, and Alex just watches as Mahiro unlocks the front door, waves, and goes inside.
Alex waits a beat before doing a ridiculous victory dance on the landing, fist pumping and turning in circles. He jumps off the step and reaches the cab in three strides to find the cabbie laughing at him.
“Good work, my man,” the cabbie says and gives Alex a fist bump through the partition. Alex settles in the seat, gives him his address, and replays their night over and over and over.
He thinks he could love Mahiro. He really does. And wouldn’t that wreak havoc on his life? He’d have to move, come to New York permanently, and get an apartment and everything. Yes, it would be completely bonkers, but Mahiro could be worth it.
And if he realizes an hour later as he tries to sink into sleep that he didn’t learn Mahiro’s last name, it doesn’t bother him.
Chapter 9
MAHIRO LEANS into a spread eagle that takes him sweeping across the ice, the shush of his blades echoing off the boards and bouncing around the quiet of Sky Rink, completely vacant at twenty minutes past closing on Monday night.
There are advantages to being one of the local club choreographers, and having the space to skate through the twisting emotions of the last few days has never been more critical than it is right now.
He takes the momentum of the spread eagle and swirls into a spin, arms above his head, and the cool ozone-scented air whips past his face, a sweet, familiar kiss from his first true love. God, he misses it some days, the freedom that came with pushing his body to perform, the drive and passion and artistic demand of skating leaving him on an adrenaline high like nothing Mahiro’s experienced since.
And oh, how he’s tried. Over and over and over again, with different people and different experiences, pushing himself further than even he expected he would into the world Rena opened up for him.
The closest he’s come to recapturing that high, tha
t crackling, all-consuming energy has been the last month with Alex, and he’s not sure if that’s the sex, Alex himself, or everything Alex represents. Could be all of that, he thinks.
He skates over to the boards and pulls a mouthful of water from his water bottle and lets his heart rate slow down just a bit as he thinks about Saturday.
Saturday, when Alex had been sweet and fun and willing, ready to go along with whatever silly games Mahiro had come up with, completely lacking in artifice or pretension or ego. He was thoughtful and attentive and kind, too: backing off immediately when he sensed Mahiro’s slight awkwardness talking about Hotaru and his family. He’s never pushed Mahiro further than he was truly comfortable with.
Which is why Mahiro knows that the Alex he talked to on Saturday, the one who danced with him, who kissed him with such tender passion, that Alex would never judge Mahiro for his mistakes, never look down on him for his failures. The Alex who has given Mahiro his body and heart to hold in trust, who slips to his knees and looks at Mahiro like the sun rises and sets in his eyes—that Alex will understand.
He’s going to tell him. As soon as he can.
THAT MOMENT doesn’t come very soon, though, as Mahiro gets caught up in planning for Friday and a scene much more complicated than anything they’ve tried yet. Arranging for suspension bondage takes thoughtfulness, organization, step-by-step planning, and one very important addition: a monitor.
7:45 p.m.
For the scene Friday we need a monitor. Adam will be there. He will watch, keep us safe. He will not touch you except to prevent injury. Will that be OK?
Alex 7:57 p.m.
What the hell are you planning? Should I be scared?
7:58 p.m.
Not unless you’re afraid of me fucking you stupid, I suppose.
Alex 8:00 p.m.
!!!!!!
8:01 p.m.
Really, though. Nothing to be afraid of, it’s a precaution. Suspension. I’m not doing anything really complex, but it is your first time.
8:02 p.m.
I want you to experience it at least once before you go in August.
8:06 p.m.
Alex?
Alex 8:06 p.m.
Chris says to ask Adam to do the roses. Wtf?
Mahiro sighs. Chris never would stop going on about that. He’s as bad as Adam when it comes to over-the-top aesthetics.
8:07 p.m.
Tell Chris if he wants roses he can do it himself.
Alex 8:08 p.m.
Chris says he’ll come with me and show me how it’s done.
Alex 8:09 p.m.
I told him to back off my master or I’d tie him to his bedposts. I’m concerned with the look I got.
Mahiro blinks. His master? His? And Alex would then, necessarily, be Mahiro’s. Mahiro’s sub. And Mahiro’s… what else?
8:11 p.m.
Yeah that probably wasn’t the best way to lower his interest, lol. But is it OK Friday?
Alex 8:12 p.m.
Of course.
8:13 p.m.
Stretch well, drink plenty of water, eat lightly. No heavy carbs. No alcohol.
Alex 8:17 p.m.
Yes, coach. I mean, yes, sir. ;)
8:19 p.m.
Sassy mouths get filled, my beauty.
Alex 8:20 p.m.
Counting on it.
MAHIRO TRUNDLES through the rest of the week in a daze, his mind barely on his work as he thinks of one thing and one thing only: Alex, wrapped in red ropes, positioned perfectly and suspended, helpless, for Mahiro’s pleasure.
Jesus. He’s jerked off too many times to count this week, so his stamina better be there when it counts. He wants to make this last.
But he’s worried, nervous, and that nervousness translates into chewing around the skin of his thumb at five minutes until seven on Friday, sitting behind the sliding panel doors with Adam looking down at him with a scowl.
“Knock it off,” he says and slaps Mahiro’s hand. “You’ll tear a nail and regret it.”
“Fuck off.” He punches Adam in the thigh.
“Fuck off yourself.” Adam punches back, nailing him in the shoulder.
“Ow, God, you better not have left a bruise.”
“Baby.” Adam pats the top of his head. “What are you so nervous about? You’ve done nothing but practice all week. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there. He’ll love it. You’ve got to calm down, though.”
Mahiro swallows and nods. He does need to get himself under control, because he’ll be useless to Alex otherwise. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. And another. And then the front door opens and he and Adam look at each other silently for a beat until the steps retreat to the back of the hall and down the stairs to the playroom.
“I still can’t believe you do this punctuality shit,” Adam whispers as they wait a couple of minutes to head down themselves. “You’re the worst.”
“That’s because you’re soft,” Mahiro says and slowly slides open the doors. “You’d let your subs walk all over you if they’d only just let you tie them up first.”
“Stop kinkshaming me,” Adam whines.
They make their way down the stairs to the basement, and Mahiro puts up a hand to quiet Adam and checks the time. 7:04 p.m. “Okay, remember, no touching. And no flair. Don’t even suggest flair.”
Adam sticks out his tongue. Mahiro rolls his eyes, then takes a deep breath, opens the door and looks inside.
Every time. Alex’s perfection as he waits hits Mahiro in the gut every single time. It’s the soft fall of his hair in the low lights, the line of his shoulders as he kneels. The patient softness of his submission, given to Mahiro with grace.
He can hear Adam’s quick intake of breath behind him, and he feels a rush of pride. Adam is impressed, and Mahiro can’t help but be smug as he walks toward Alex and places his fingers at the nape of his neck and draws them with exaggerated slowness down to the bare, inviting curve of his ass. Any nervousness he might have felt bleeds away with that one perfect gesture, their connection reestablished.
Mahiro places his lips at the nape of Alex’s neck. “Good evening, my beauty,” he whispers against his skin. “I’m so happy to see you.”
Alex smiles and dips his head, goose bumps erupting over his shoulders. “It’s been a long week without you, sir.”
“You remember Adam, don’t you?” Mahiro gestures toward Adam, still standing in the doorway, waiting. “Is it still okay for him to be here, to keep us safe?”
“Yes, sir.” Alex looks at Adam and smiles. “Thank you, Adam.”
Mahiro nods, and Adam moves over to the chair they’ve placed near the open corner of the playroom. He sits quietly and crosses his legs, and Mahiro pointedly ignores his raised eyebrow.
He turns back to Alex and can’t help but bend and take Alex’s mouth with his own in a deep, slow, wet kiss, one that marks his possession of this man, one that makes Alex’s spine melt and needy little hums erupt in his throat. Mahiro pulls away with a smile, only to see Alex still there with eyes closed and lips parted, stunned, until he darts his tongue out and licks his bottom lip.
“Thank you,” he rasps.
He needed that reassurance, and Mahiro did too. The shift in their relationship still feels like a tangible thing, a bright spark in Mahiro’s chest that’s almost too much to bear sometimes.
Mahiro cups his cheek. “Alex, before we start, I want you to come with me, okay?” Mahiro takes Alex’s hand, helps him rise, and leads him to where he and Adam have already secured a hanging steel ring from a large eyebolt attached to a floor joist above. “I want you to look at this closely.”
Alex nods. “I think I sort of know what I’m looking at.
“It’s a hardpoint, the part of the rigging that won’t move. This is the part that will bear all of your weight when we get you off your feet, or off of the floor. I want you to look at it closely and notice that it’s a closed eyebolt. You can see that it’s locked down with a bolt that goes all the
way through the floor joist, and everything is new or well maintained.”
Alex’s brow furrows. “Okay. That’s good, then?”
“Yes. And should you ever decide to do this with someone else—”
“I won’t,” he says with a frown and steps closer to Mahiro.
Mahiro’s stomach swoops. “Ah, well. If you did, before you ever do a suspension scene, your Dom should make you look this rigging over. If you have any doubts about it at all, don’t do the scene. People can get hurt if it’s not taken seriously. Adam takes this extremely seriously, as do I. But this is most definitely his area of expertise.”
Alex nods. He looks puzzled but interested, and Mahiro doesn’t want to scare him with tales of things gone horribly wrong, so he just steers him to stand on the rubber matting under the hardpoint and goes to his cabinet.
“I bought you a little present,” he says and turns back to Alex with a black box he plucked from a shelf inside. He hands it over and watches, smiling, as Alex opens the lid.
“Oh, Mahiro, these are wonderful!” Alex pulls out one of the gold magnetic nipple clamps and examines it, the rhinestone on the end glinting in the playroom lights. “Sparkly,” he says with a wink. “Should we put them on?”
Mahiro comes over and takes the other one out of the box and the one from Alex’s hand and puts them in his pocket. “No, not yet. They’re a bit strong, so later, after we’re ready, okay?” Alex looks disappointed, so Mahiro presses a sweet kiss to his lips. Alex hums and leans into him, and Mahiro can’t resist wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and pulling them together. He’s got a black sleeveless T-shirt on tonight with his black skinny pants, and he misses the feeling of Alex’s skin against his. He drags his lips over Alex’s shoulder and reminds himself that his patience will pay off later. But for now—
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