Florentine

by Mazarin Stone

  Alex nods, stunned. Yes, he can see that. “I’m going to try hard to keep that from happening,” he says as earnestly as he can.

  “Well, you can’t, not really,” Adam says, thoughtful. “But just keep encouraging him to talk and listen without judgment. You know he’s strong; you’ve seen it. He’s got more control than you can possibly imagine in the playroom, but be careful with his heart outside of it, okay?”

  Alex nods. “Got it. I’m going to make him as happy as I can, Adam. He’s… everything to me.”

  “Good. Then get back in there, because he’s not gotten laid outside of a scene in years so I’m like, sitting on half a decade of snarky texts and shit I’ve not been able to tease him with. Don’t let me down.” Adam winks at him, and Alex drops his head back and laughs, because what the hell even?

  “I’m going out with Chris for breakfast, so you know this is coming up,” Adam adds as he turns to head downstairs. “And you owe me an Arita bowl, you asshole.”

  “I’ll buy you two,” Alex promises and makes his way back to Mahiro’s room. Mahiro stirs on the pillow when Alex opens the door. “Morning,” he whispers as he drops his pants and slides back into bed.

  “Mmmph,” Mahiro mumbles and turns into Alex’s chest. “Don’t like mornings.” He presses a kiss to Alex’s sternum and Alex shivers a bit. “I do like this, though.” Mahiro kisses his chest again before dragging his mouth over to lave a hot, wet tongue against Alex’s nipple. Alex gasps, cock stirring and body starting to hum.

  “I’ll take any morning you can give me if it’s like this,” Alex says and arches under Mahiro’s mouth. “Fuck, Mahiro.”

  “Mmmm. That’s the idea,” Mahiro says and slides up Alex’s body, turning him onto his back and settling into the cradle of Alex’s hips. He’s hard, pulsing against the crease of Alex’s groin, and when he rolls his hips, Alex groans aloud.

  “Tell me you’ve got lube up here,” Alex says and trails his fingers down the dip in Mahiro’s spine and over his ass.

  Mahiro stops stock-still, and Alex blinks at him in confusion.

  “Um, well…,” Mahiro starts, then drops his head to Alex’s chest, blushing.

  “You’re kidding,” Alex groans. “It’s all in the playroom, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah,” Mahiro says. “It’s not like I really needed it up here!”

  Alex shifts until he can flip Mahiro over and pin him down to the bed, Mahiro squirming and giggling and Alex leaning heavily over him until he can get a hand on his ass. He pulls back and swats him once, not really very hard, but it certainly makes a nice sound.

  “Hey!” Mahiro says, giggling. “That is not how this is supposed to work!”

  “Nope, sorry, you get three for failing to plan,” Alex says and spanks him again. Mahiro flails and kicks and Alex almost loses his hold because goddamn, Mahiro is strong. He tickles Mahiro’s waist until Mahiro is helpless with laughter, and he gives him one last smack on the ass before letting go and falling back on the bed, laughing and out of breath. Mahiro catches his breath for a moment and then, in a lightning-fast move Alex really should have expected, flips over and has Alex pinned to the bed, arms over his head and Mahiro’s hands tightened over his wrists.

  “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, Breschi,” Mahiro purrs, eyes dark with desire, a flash of Alex’s master dancing in his eyes.

  “Yes, please,” Alex says and drowns in Mahiro’s kiss.

  THE NEXT two weeks pass in a blur. Alex spends almost every evening with Mahiro, sleeping in his bed and heading home in the morning to write while Mahiro works, then coming back over for dinner, either eating with Adam in front of their ridiculously large TV, or taking Mahiro out, or meeting Chris and Adam for drinks before, hilariously, splitting off in the front hall of the house one evening and watching Chris meekly follow Adam down into the playroom after throwing Alex a wink.

  Well. That answers that question.

  “I sort of want to watch,” Alex tells Mahiro on their way upstairs, “but I’m also terrified.”

  Mahiro pulls Alex into his bedroom and closes the door. “Well, they’ve not asked for a monitor so it’s not gotten too crazy yet,” Mahiro says and strips off his shirt before lying across the bed and gazing up at Alex from under his eyelashes, the planes of his chest in shadowy relief in the dim lamplight. He knows how to really turn Alex on, dammit, and Alex almost trips out of his pants. But even as they come together, Mahiro’s voice turning breathless in the night, Alex can’t help but feel a little niggle of worry at the back of his mind. Everything has been wonderful and he’s been incredibly happy, but there’s something… missing.

  “Mahiro,” he says afterward, sweaty and tangled together. “May I ask you something?”

  He can feel Mahiro tense just slightly and tilt his head to presumably look down at where Alex is resting against his chest. “Of course. Anything.”

  Alex takes a deep breath. This is almost harder than asking him out the first time, but he needs to know. “These last few weeks have been amazing. I’m really happy, I promise I am. But… why haven’t you asked me back to the playroom? Is that not something you want anymore?” He hates how small his voice sounds, but God, he needs to know.

  “Oh. Oh, Alex,” Mahiro says and shifts around until he can look Alex in the face. “Oh, my love. Of course it is. I just didn’t want to push you. I wanted to be sure you were ready, that you trusted me. That you still wanted it.”

  “God, yes,” Alex says, relieved. “Yes, please. I do want it. I want you, sir. I need you.”

  Alex can see tears sparkling at the corners of Mahiro’s eyes. “Oh, my… my beauty,” he says, voice hitching on the name Alex’s waited so long to hear again. “I’m so happy to hear that. Just give me a couple of days to sort out some things and I’ll take care of you. I promise.” Mahiro wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight, and the tight knot of worry that had wormed its way into his stomach starts to relax.

  “Friday, my beauty,” Mahiro says and passes his hand through Alex’s hair, a loving caress that warms Alex down to his toes. “You’ll be all mine on Friday.”

  Chapter 13

  IF THERE’S one thing Mahiro has always been confident about in his life as a Dominant, it’s that he knows how to set a scene. He thinks it’s possibly due to his history as a performer, as a dancer; he’s trained for years in the deep understanding of how performance can impact emotion, both for the audience and the performer. He needs that tonight, needs the seduction and the romance of a perfect scene to find the confidence to ask the question he’s holding in his heart.

  The playroom lights are off in favor of a dozen red pillar candles scattered throughout the space, casting warm flickering light and setting off dancing shadows in the corners. He dragged a few of their larger potted palms down into the basement and set them up in a screen between the lounge and the rest of the playroom, and then set dozens of long-stemmed deep red roses into tall footed vases in the corners of the makeshift space. A table next to the lounge holds the large silver candelabra set with five white tapers, two white pillars set in a dish, a bottle of massage oil, an ice bucket, and a flat, square black velvet jeweler’s box.

  But now, the attention to detail he’s known and sought out for, has built a reputation around for over five years, ends tonight, if the evening goes as he hopes. No more messages on FetLife, no more random meetups at parties. No strangers. No flashy last-minute hookups with people he may or may not ever see again.

  Just Alex.

  Just the idea of it makes him fluttery inside. They’ve had a few weeks now of joyous discovery and rediscovery, of sweet, slow lovemaking and wild, stupid sex, sure, but also of learning to love and live with and around each other. Mahiro learns Alex hates green peppers and has a weakness for KDrama; Alex learns, to Mahiro’s chagrin, that he’s a sucker for classic Hollywood musicals and will put a glass on the side of the sink every single time instead of putting it in the goddamn dishwasher, Jesus, Mahiro, I te
ll you this every fucking day.

  (“You see what stupid shit I put up with, right, Alex?” Adam had said. Alex just nodded and smiled and said not a word until he walked into his own kitchen to find three glasses by the sink and “Mahiro, just put them in the dishwasher!” came out of his mouth. Mahiro had collapsed on the sofa with a groan. “From now on I’m just drinking out of the container and fuck both of you.”)

  It’s been a wonderful few weeks. Almost idyllic, even as Mahiro waited and watched Alex carefully for any sign that an invitation back to the playroom might be accepted. He was considering just asking outright, wondering if Alex could trust him yet or if he even wanted that side of their relationship anymore, when Alex had pinned him with those big blue eyes and asked him why they hadn’t gone back. As if he thought Mahiro no longer wanted him there.

  Mahiro shakes his head as he drapes the lounge with a black sheet. Their time in the playroom is part of who they are, and he was foolish to think it wasn’t as important to Alex as it is to him. Alex is still so new at this, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t crave it, need it, like Mahiro does.

  He opens the velvet box, and there, nestled against the white satin interior, is the gold choker necklace he bought at Cartier all those weeks ago, still waiting. It’s perfect, not a smudge or smear marking the polished surface, and Mahiro snaps the box closed and puts it back on the table, the butterflies turning into a trickle of nervous fear.

  No. No fear. Mahiro knows his beauty, knows his desires and his tastes, knows what he wants. He wants only Mahiro, and he’s going to have him.

  IT’S 6:50 p.m., and Mahiro is squirreled away in the downstairs playroom bath. He examines his eyeliner for the sixth time, smudges it out a little more, and checks his black sleeveless shirt for stray lint. His black leather pants fit perfectly, skintight down to his bare feet, and he fiddles with his swept-back hair, gluing a stray back into the mass of it with a touch more product.

  Then Mahiro drops to the floor and leans back against the side of the tub.

  He’s not going to wait on the other side of the upstairs door. He’s not going to know what time Alex walks into the playroom, because he knows and trusts that Alex will be waiting for him at 7:05 p.m. without fail.

  He checks his watch anyway.

  Nervous anticipation has him worrying at the edge of his thumb with his teeth. What if Alex is spooked by the collar? What if he doesn’t want that sort of exclusivity? What if he wants to experience other Doms, other styles of play?

  Mahiro clunks his head back against the rim of the tub. He’s got to be delusional. How on earth is he, Mahiro Seta, going to keep this man? How is he going to keep a sub, the same sub, happy and satisfied for… for….

  Forever, his mind whispers.

  The door to the playroom clicks closed and Mahiro jumps to his feet. He wipes his sweaty hands on a towel and takes a deep breath. He must be calm, centered. In control.

  He imagines Alex’s low voice whispering “Sir,” and he can feel the nervousness wane. He waits three minutes, opens the door, and there, exactly as he requested, is his beauty, fully dressed and perched on the edge of the lounge, back straight and proud. He looks up as the door opens, and when he sees Mahiro, his entire face lights up.

  Mahiro crosses the room quickly and takes Alex’s hands in his. “I’m so, so glad to see you,” he says and tilts Alex’s chin up. Alex smiles into a soft kiss, then pulls back just slightly.

  “I’m so happy to be here, sir,” he says, and the tickle of his breath on Mahiro’s lips slides warm down his spine. Any lingering doubts Mahiro may have had fade away under the absolute certainty of this feeling, of the warmth and belonging and love he feels from the man sitting in front of him with absolute devotion.

  Yes. It’s time.

  “I know this isn’t how we usually start,” Mahiro says, “but I wanted to talk to you first. Is that okay?”

  Alex nods. “Is everything all right?” he asks, fingers moving toward the hem of his shirt. He’s slightly nervous, then, Mahiro notes, and files that away in the back of his mind. He would be, yes, when Mahiro asked him to sit on the lounge and not kneel on the cushion, but it’s vital that Alex not be completely immersed quite yet.

  “Of course.” Mahiro steps to the table and picks up the black velvet box. It feels heavy in his hands, and he hopes they don’t tremble.

  “It’s really beautiful in here,” Alex says, then trails off as he sees the box in Mahiro’s hands. His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say another word, just stares at Mahiro with a thousand questions in his gaze and his lips slightly parted.

  “My Alex,” Mahiro says and slips to his knees, box held out in front of him with both hands. “I’ve had this for a while now, since the day after the party. I knew then that I wanted to make you mine.”

  “Oh my God,” Alex whispers and covers his mouth with his hands.

  “These last few months with you have been everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything about you is so perfect to me. For me. Even though we almost screwed the whole thing up, we found our way back here, and I’m so happy, and so grateful. And so in love with you, Alex.” Mahiro opens the box and moves a bit closer until the heat of Alex’s body is a tangible thing, a weight pressing against his skin, and he sinks into it willingly, lets it anchor him. “Will you do me the honor of accepting this? Of accepting me? You own me, Alex Breschi, body and soul, and I want the world to know it.”

  Alex’s hands are still covering his mouth when he nods a frantic yes, and then, before Mahiro can take the collar out of its box and put it around Alex’s slim throat, Alex slides off the lounge and straddles Mahiro’s lap and buries his head in his chest, long arms wrapped around Mahiro’s back.

  “I love you, Mahiro. I just wanted to say that now, before anything else. I love you, and I am so happy to be yours.”

  Mahiro just holds him tighter, swallowing heavily against the tears welling up in his eyes. “I love you too, Alex.” Mahiro nuzzles Alex’s sweet-smelling hair. “God, how I love you.”

  Alex sniffs against Mahiro’s chest. “We are an absolute mess of a couple, you know?”

  Mahiro rubs his back. “No, we’re not. We’re us. I think we’re perfect.” Mahiro pulls back and lifts Alex’s tearstained face up for a slow, searching kiss, one that pours everything he’s feeling into Alex’s body, one that leaves him light-headed and giddy when they part.

  “May I please put this on you now?” Mahiro asks.

  “Yes, oh God. Yes, please. It’s so incredibly beautiful.” Alex pulls the collar from its box and holds it on his palms. “Please collar me, my Mahiro,” he says sweetly, and the atmosphere shifts in an instant, Mahiro feeling the sharper edges of his personality wanting to come out and play, his body tightening in response to the soft supplication in Alex’s words.

  “Then strip and kneel on the cushion, my beauty,” he says and nips Alex’s lower lip as he takes the collar from his hands. Alex scrambles off Mahiro’s lap and begins to undress, tossing his clothes on the small chair by the door and turning with lethal grace to sashay across the playroom and sink to his knees with a wink.

  Oh, this is trouble. He’s in a playful, giddy mood tonight, and Mahiro knows that means he’s going to push. But then again, whose fault is that, exactly, when Mahiro’s feeling the same way?

  Mahiro unclips the clasp on the choker and opens it, the metal flexible enough to bend open just enough to slide around Alex’s elegant neck. Mahiro moves behind him and clicks the clasp closed again, then hooks the safety chain as well.

  It’s perfect.

  The gold is warm and liquid in the candlelight, in contrast to Alex’s porcelain skin and fair hair. Mahiro imagines every gold medal Alex has ever won in the shine against his skin.

  “You look amazing,” Mahiro breathes, and Alex shivers.

  “Thank you, sir,” he says and tilts his head a bit until the collar settles where it’s comfortable. “It’s heavier than I expected.”

  �
�Mmm. Gold is a bit weighty. But it’s only for when we’re here. I don’t expect you to wear it all the time. Nor is there a lock. You may remove it at any time you wish.”

  “But what if I want to wear it out somewhere?” Alex asks, a gleam in his eye.

  Mahiro shivers. Taking Alex out in public with his collar on? Yes, please. “Then we’ll do that too.”

  “Good.” Alex preens a bit and tries to look down and catch a glimpse of the gold around his neck. “I need a mirror.”

  “Later,” Mahiro says and moves to stand behind Alex, and lightly presses two fingertips to the nape of his neck, right under the edge of his collar. “I think we have some things to attend to first. Don’t you, my beauty?”

  Alex stills and drops his head to his chest, palms pressed to his thighs. “Please,” he whispers, and Mahiro slips his fingers down Alex’s spine with exaggerated slowness, feeling every bump and ridge of the bones until he reaches the inviting curve of his ass. He drags his fingers between the cheeks of Alex’s ass, and yes, his plug is right where Mahiro wants it.

  “Good boy,” he says and gives it a tweak. Alex startles and sighs.

  “Only for you, sir.” Alex groans and tips his head back to expose that long, glorious throat, now with Mahiro’s collar gleaming around it.

  Jesus, it turns Mahiro on to see it, to see evidence of his claim and of Alex’s devotion. He can feel himself growing hard already, and when he steps around to help Alex rise from the cushion, he can see from the way Alex’s cock has started to thicken he’s not alone. But it’s not time to indulge, not when they’ve got so much yet to do.

  “I want you to lie back on the lounge,” Mahiro says and watches as Alex obediently settles himself. Mahiro approaches and lifts one ankle, kisses the slight protrusion of bone on the inside, and watches Alex shiver. “I’m going to cuff your ankles and wrists, one to each corner. Color?”