Florentine

by Mazarin Stone

  Does he want that? He can’t imagine, now, being with anyone else, trusting anyone else, caring so much about anyone else. He and Mahiro are so well matched that Alex isn’t sure how he managed this long without him. He can be himself, give himself over to thoughts and ideas and desires he’d barely been able to articulate before, free to speak his mind openly without anyone finding it strange or odd. Without someone expecting him to be something he’s not. It’s incredible.

  “Okay, let’s do it,” Alex says. “I’m ready.”

  “I KNOW this is a bit unusual, my beauty, but I had a few things to finish up.” Mahiro hangs two garment bags on the door to the bathroom and turns around with a smile.

  Alex just blinks at him. He’s never been in the playroom when Alex has arrived, simply opening the door like clockwork at five minutes after his arrival, giving Alex just enough time to strip down and kneel. The desire to do just that tugs at him, and he’s a bit lost. Mahiro must sense his unease, because he immediately crosses the room to wrap a hand around the back of Alex’s neck and press their foreheads together.

  “Do you need to kneel, Alex?” he asks quietly.

  “Please.” Alex hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on these rituals to settle him, but it appears Mahiro can read him like an open book.

  “Then take your shirt off,” he says, and the matter-of-fact command is like a lifeline to a drowning man. Alex quickly slips out of his shirt. Mahiro takes it and folds it over one arm before leading him to the cushion. Alex settles himself quickly, takes a deep breath, lets it out, and waits.

  It will come. He knows it will.

  A touch, two fingers at the base of his neck that leave him on a knife edge of expectation until Mahiro draws those fingers down his spine and rests them against the waistband of his jeans, and then leans forward and kisses between Alex’s shoulder blades. He sighs, tension leaving him in a single breath.

  “Do you feel better, my beauty?” Mahiro whispers.

  “Yes, thank you, sir. I still feel… a bit worked up, though.” Alex can feel the blush across his cheeks.

  Mahiro chuckles. “Oh yes. Being in this room can do that to you.”

  “I feel like Pavlov’s dog,” Alex says, wry.

  “You should. I’ve spent over a month training you for exactly that.”

  Alex’s mouth drops open. He can’t help it.

  Mahiro puts a hand on his head and pulls him in to rest his cheek on Mahiro’s stomach. “Oh, darling. You asked me to train you as a submissive. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. What did you think would happen? You’ve reached a point where I don’t have to worry about all the little things. You follow the cues I’ve set to find your way to the right headspace without my saying a word. That’s why we can do other things now. Things that take a lot more trust and obedience. I can’t tie you to the cross if I’m worried you’re going to ignore my orders every two minutes.”

  Alex breathes, rubs his cheek against the soft material of Mahiro’s T-shirt, his abs firm underneath. “I just didn’t realize, is all.” He knew he craved that routine, those first moments in the playroom where Mahiro welcomed him back with a touch, but he hadn’t understood that Mahiro had done that, had used his own desire for constancy to help him find the right mental space for their play.

  And really, it’s to help him let go. Of everything. Of what people expect, what they want from him, what he has to perform to make him the man they want. Like putting on costumes and routines and personalities like a disguise. Like trying to write a book designed to shock, to titillate, and watching it fall apart on the page to be replaced with something deeper, more honest.

  Because Mahiro just wants him as he is, and gives him what he needs without him having to search for it.

  He pulls away and looks in Mahiro’s eyes, soft and warm and so, so pleased with him.

  All for just being here with him, like this.

  Suddenly the desire for the collar Chris teased him about rises in an overwhelming wave. He’ll be perfect. He’ll be so perfect tonight that Mahiro won’t be able to resist collaring him. And then he’ll find an apartment, stay in New York. Give himself over to this thing they’re building together, in the playroom and out of it.

  “Sir,” Alex purrs, sweet as sugar. “Can we get ready now? I can’t wait to show everyone what a good boy I am.”

  Mahiro’s molasses-slow, satisfied smile is everything Alex wants, from now until forever.

  ALEX TURNS each way to look himself over critically in the mirror. Virginal white and embroidered chiffon shirt, slim white leather pants, white shoes. A look so innocent and pure Alex can tell Mahiro is planning to send a very specific message to whomever is at this party tonight.

  That Alex is his own, his precious angel to spoil and debauch as he sees fit. Alex smiles at himself, smug. Damn straight he is.

  “What do you think?” Mahiro asks, walking back into the bathroom and tugging on his cuffs. He’s wearing almost exactly the opposite of Alex, but in all black, long sleeves where Alex’s are short, and just a triangular slash of floral lace down the front of his shirt where Alex’s entire front is exposed under chiffon embroidered with vertical, twining stripes. A matched pair, but not identical.

  He loves it, and just beams at Mahiro.

  Mahiro gives him a good once-over. “I think you look gorgeous. But I wonder… do you mind if I do some makeup? Just a little, around your eyes.”

  Alex grins and nods happily. Apparently Mahiro has his own little thing for makeup, like Alex does. Alex just melts at the mounting evidence of their compatibility as Mahiro pats some primer around Alex’s eyes and waits for it to set. Alex can feel him drawing eyeliner on, giving him a winged look with… something. Black? No, not in this outfit.

  Mahiro pulls his hands back and Alex cracks his eyes open. Whatever eyeliner Mahiro used is a bit heavier than he’s used to, and he can feel it still setting on the corners of his eyes.

  Mahiro breaks into a huge smile. “Yes, I think that’s perfect. Have a look.”

  Alex turns to look in the mirror, and holy shit. Mahiro has outlined his eyes in glittering gold eyeliner, top and bottom, giving him an exaggerated wing all over a deep rose pink blended into the crease and plum over his eyelids. His eyelashes are long and lush, but not black, exactly. He leans forward and looks more closely.

  “Is that purple mascara?” he asks and flutters his eyelashes. “This is gorgeous. I love it. I sort of wish you’d done the rest of my face, actually. I feel naked.”

  “Ah, well. This is why.” Mahiro opens a box on the countertop and inside is a mask, Alex’s small measure of protection for tonight. Mahiro pulls it out and carefully ties it over Alex’s face, the gold-and-white masquerade-style mask covering him over his nose and cheekbones. There is a white-and-gold flower on one side, with arcing white featherlike accents. The rest of the mask is split down the middle—gold with white filigree designs on one side, white with gold on the other. It’s gorgeous, and when Alex looks in the mirror, his elegant eye makeup is clearly visible, and it all highlights the blue of his eyes by contrast.

  “But what about you?” Alex asks. Mahiro has his hair slicked back as usually does when they’re playing, but his face is otherwise bare.

  Mahiro fusses with a loose strand of hair over his forehead. “I’m so glad you like it. But I’m not going to do much, myself. I just want to show you off.”

  Alex frowns. It’s not right he gets to have all the fun. “Please? I loved the eyeliner you did before. It was really sexy.” Mahiro blinks, and Alex goes in for the kill, slipping his fingers under Mahiro’s chin and tilting it up so he can kiss him lightly on the lips. “And maybe I want to show you off too. My gorgeous master.”

  Mahiro licks Alex’s kiss from his lower lip. “You’re impossible,” Mahiro says, but sighs and turns back to the mirror and starts to outline his eyes in jet black, and even adds a few tiny crystals to the corners and a flash of silver on his lids. Alex waits, satisfi
ed, and then digs through Mahiro’s makeup box until he finds a tube of gloss. He puts some on, then pats some on Mahiro’s lips with a delicate finger.

  “Well?” he asks. “Do you think we’re ready?” Alex looks in the mirror at the two of them. They look astonishing together, head-turning, and he can’t wait for everyone to see them.

  Mahiro slips an arm around his waist, and Alex lets the reality of the two of them—a couple, a unit—wash over him.

  Mischief and joy dance in Mahiro’s eyes. “Let’s go have some fun, my beauty. I promise, you’ll love it.”

  “IS MY mask straight?” Alex tugs on his mask, straightens his collar, and fidgets with the hem until Mahiro grabs both of his hands and holds them tightly.

  “For the last time, you look perfect. Stop messing with your shirt. Stop fiddling with your mask. Jesus, were you this awful before you skated?”

  “Yes?” Alex tries to smile, but he’s still nervous. He wants to make a good impression on Mahiro’s friends, wants to show everyone what a good sub he is, and maybe, just maybe, Mahiro will confirm the exclusivity of their arrangement past heated declarations made while fucking each other brainless in the playroom.

  The elevator makes its way up to the penthouse in one of the most exclusive buildings in Manhattan, up past the thirty-third floor now, and Mahiro still won’t let go of his hands.

  “Remember, don’t stray more than three feet away from me, understand? Like you’re on a leash.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And if anyone tries anything you’re uncomfortable with, tell me immediately.”

  “Yes.”

  “And if you find yourself needing a break, just tell me your safeword and you can go—”

  “Sir,” Alex says, stern. “Now who’s nervous?”

  Mahiro stops, then chuckles. “You’re right. I just want you to enjoy yourself tonight. We’ll be fine. Okay?” The elevator slows, then stops, and the doors slide open into a small vestibule.

  Alex takes a deep breath. “Okay. It’s time to sparkle.”

  Mahiro smiles, rolls his eyes, and presses the buzzer. The door swings open, revealing a tall, dark-haired man with a wide, overly white smile.

  “Mahiro!” he says, and Alex can see Mahiro flinch slightly. “Malcom will be happy you’re here!” He turns his attention to Alex, and Alex stands quietly under the scrutiny, waiting for some sort of cue from Mahiro. “Well, well. Who’s this?” the man says and positively leers. Alex keeps his shudder to himself.

  “This is Alex, Dylan. Alex, this is Dylan, one of Malcom’s friends.”

  Alex offers his hand and demurely shakes. “Pleased to meet you,” he says softly.

  “Oh my, Mahiro, he’s precious. I’m impressed. Thought you’d never land a man! We’ll have to introduce him to Isabella later, let her give him some tips!” Dylan slaps Mahiro on the back, and Mahiro raises an eyebrow and gives Dylan a haughty smirk.

  “Or perhaps Alex will give her some,” Mahiro says. “We’re going to find Adam. Talk to you later.” Mahiro takes Alex by the hand and leads him across the large living room, through a set of double doors, and into a large salon with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. The sparkling lights of New York reflect through the space, lit just so with low rose-colored lamps and banks of candles on shelves around the room. There’s a thread of music underlying the conversation, and if Alex didn’t know better, he’d think this was just another high-class party in any other city in the world.

  He has a feeling he’ll see the differences soon enough.

  He catches Adam waving from a soft, squashy couch in the corner, and he taps Mahiro on the shoulder and points him out. They make their way toward him, their fingers laced together and Mahiro leading the way.

  “Oh, you guys look amazing,” Adam says, and Alex can’t help but smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. Dylan has been making the rounds, ugh.”

  Mahiro takes a seat on the sofa next to Adam, and Alex stands next to him, considering perching on the arm when Mahiro taps his hand. “At my feet, Alex,” he says.

  Alex immediately drops to sit on the floor, tucked up against Mahiro’s legs. Mahiro brushes a hand over his hair. “Good boy,” he croons, then turns back to Adam. “Yes, we were greeted by His Royal Highness. He wants Alex to meet Isabella, God.”

  Adam rolls his eyes. “You know he’s only here because he’s one of Malcom’s best clients. Gross.”

  “Yes, well…,” Mahiro responds, and Alex’s attention drifts from the conversation, two friends gossiping about their lives, and watches the couples and groups of friends who are scattered around the room, drinking and eating canapés and chatting. At first he thought everyone was as conservatively dressed as they are, but as he sits, he catches a few people in leather, some in fetish gear, a few wearing harnesses, but nothing particularly extreme. People drift back toward the living room, but otherwise, the entire party is like a social event, not a scene in sight, and certainly not the party he was expecting. He feels strangely disappointed, and sighs.

  “What’s wrong?” Mahiro says immediately.

  “Oh, um. I just was hoping to see something… new,” Alex says. “But no one is playing?”

  Adam giggles. “Oh, no, not in here. We’re in the chill space, just so Mahiro and I could meet up. All the fun is in the back, in the gym.”

  That makes sense, but…. “The gym?”

  “Oh yeah. Malcom is loaded. This place is huge. But we’re boring you, my beauty. Let’s see what’s going on, okay? Adam, we’ll catch up later?”

  “I’ll be around, sure. I’ve got a demo in an hour, though.”

  As Mahiro stands, Alex stands and walks with him, right at his shoulder. It feels slightly strange, as he’s much taller than Mahiro, but Mahiro walks with such confidence, with such grace, Alex can’t help falling in immediately. Various people greet him as he passes, wave and smile, and then, Alex notices, they turn to their conversation partners with raised eyebrows and a whisper behind their hands.

  Yes, Mahiro is certainly making a statement tonight, and Alex swells with pride. His master is well-respected in his community, to the point where his appearance with Alex is cause for celebration, and not malicious gossip. Good. He hopes everyone is happy for Mahiro, though if a few are envious of Alex’s position, he couldn’t blame them.

  The gym they reach after passing through the kitchen and a long hall is fairly roomy, and there are at least three separate groups of people in different parts of the room. The swing of a flogger is the first thing he notices, but he can’t see the person on the receiving end due to the group of people standing around. Another group has gathered around a person holding a long, thin… something—a cane? Maybe that’s what it is—and talking to the group and demonstrating how to use it. And in the middle of the last group is, unsurprisingly, Chris.

  “Oh God, there he is,” Alex breathes before he can stop himself.

  “Hm? I’m sorry?” Mahiro, who is watching the caning demonstration, turns, and then starts to giggle. “Oh, of course. He dives in as soon as he gets anywhere; you should know that about him.”

  Alex watches as Chris’s shining, oiled skin is covered in drips of red candle wax, his bare chest already showing a fairly healthy coating. Mahiro draws them closer, and Alex watches with awe as his friend arches and sighs under each warm impact, until the woman holding the candle puts it down and releases the cuffs that are holding his arms to the bench he’s lying on. He sits up, some of the cooled wax flaking off his body. He grins broadly, and then spots Alex in the crowd and bounds right over like an overexcited puppy.

  “There you are! Oh my, Mahiro, didn’t you do a wonderful job with him! He looks like an angel in this den of sin.”

  Mahiro looks pleased. “Yes, so don’t corrupt him, Christopher,” he warns, and Chris laughs, delighted.

  “You know I’ll do my best to do exactly that, cheri. Now, I need to clean up, so I’ll meet you later, okay? I want to watch you in action, Alex.” />
  “Okay,” Alex says. “But first, can I—?” He pokes Chris on the shoulder, where a drip of wax has landed. He picks it off and it’s soft, still, and grows softer as he holds it in his hand. Not quite a hard as candle wax, then. Interesting.

  “Not as hot as you’d expect, but it will make you jump the first time,” Chris says, and then Alex realizes Mahiro has drifted away during this conversation, back toward the caning demo.

  “Fuck,” he hisses and carefully tiptoes up behind Mahiro, within his three-foot space, and stands there quietly. Chris smothers a laugh behind his hand. Alex waves at him to shut him up just as Mahiro turns his head to check Alex is still there. Alex stops and just beams at him.

  Mahiro narrows his eyes, and Alex maintains his most innocent look.

  “Stand with me and watch this,” Mahiro says, and Alex comes closer, his heart beating again with relief. He allows himself to press into Mahiro’s side, and Mahiro winds an arm around his waist, and he hums, content, as he carefully watches a small woman receive marks from a long, thin cane all over her ass and shoulders. Mahiro tilts his head, considering, and Alex can see his heart beating fast in the twitch of his throat.

  Interesting.

  ALEX AND Mahiro leave the caning demo and walk hand in hand down the hallway toward the kitchen, picking up some sparkling water and snacks on their way back to the salon. Things have really started to pick up, and the penthouse, as spacious as it is, is getting crowded. Alex has to turn sideways a few times to slip through the crowd, and tries to brush off the many admiring glances he gets as he does. He’s accustomed to people looking; they’ve done so for fifteen years. But he’s not quite used to this specific type of attention—the sort where everyone seems to know you, what you liked in bed, and what you want.

  Which is why the tall, blond man staring at him from across the room is really creeping him out. Alex hurries along to keep close to Mahiro, so close he bumps into his shoulder. Mahiro gives him a questioning look, but Alex just ignores him and keeps walking.