Off Stage

by Jaime Samms

  Len’s arms were trembling. Vance couldn’t be sure if he was tired of holding them up. He’d been in that position for a good twenty minutes now since Vance had taken his time searching out the right cuffs. He’d wanted to get his head around what this was going to mean for them in the morning. He suspected, though, that the shaking was due in some part to Len’s nerves.

  Vance took Len’s hands, raised his fingers to his lips, and kissed first one hand, then the other. “Okay?” he asked.

  Len gazed up at him. His eyes were dark and solemn, and he nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “You got us drinks like I asked?”

  “They’re on the table.”

  “Good.” Vance indicated Len should stand, and he continued to hold both his hands as Len got to his feet. “Nothin’ on the stove going to burn?”

  Len swallowed hard, but his gaze never wavered. “How long we going to be up here? I planned a nice meal—” Vance lifted both eyebrows, squeezed his fingers, and Len subsided. “No, Sir. There’s nothing on the stove that’s going to burn.”

  “Do you know what topping from the bottom is, Len?”

  Len’s copper brows drew together into that tight V, and his lips turned down. “I don’t do that.”

  “You put your wish out there, darlin’. I get it.” Vance hefted a wrist with cuff securely in place. “I’m in charge now. You take what comes. Let me worry about the rest.”

  “What if I don’t like what comes?”

  Vance placed a finger on Len’s lips. “Trust me?”

  Len nodded.

  “You trust me to be able to read you well enough to know if something’s not right?”

  Len swallowed hard, studying Vance as he considered. Finally, he gave a tiny nod.

  “You want some sort of fail-safe?”

  Len continued to watch him with some uncertainty.

  “Talk to me, darlin’.”

  “You don’t want me to have any say. You said you’re in charge.”

  Vance cupped Len’s face. “I’m in charge of the evenin’s events, of givin’ you pleasure, and takin’ care of you. Your safety is in your hands, and anythin’ you say no to is valid and off-limits. Believe that when you say no, I get that it means no, and I’ll stop.”

  After a heartbeat, Len nodded. His eyes were still dark, still haunted, and he looked frayed around the edges, but Vance hadn’t known a time when his lover didn’t have that look about him, as if he were tearing in half inside. Vance could hold him together with all his might, but only Len could make the decision to accept he was whole despite the things he thought were flaws.

  “Okay,” Len said at last and offered a miniscule, sweet smile. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” Vance took the opportunity to kiss him, this time with more tenderness than power, and to keep kissing until he felt Len’s capitulation beneath his caresses. “Now.” Vance released him, guiding his hands to Len’s sides. “Turn around.”

  Len did, twisting to look over his shoulder.

  “Eyes front, boy.”

  He made a small, throat-clearing noise that sounded to Vance like nerves escaping, but he did turn to face forward.

  Vance fetched a length of chain from the same drawer he’d retrieved the cuffs from, and fastened the clips, one on each cuff. It left Len with his hands slightly behind himself, the cool chain taut across his buttocks. He shifted his feet, tested the bonds, and the toes of his left foot curled again, pulling in and lifting his foot crookedly.

  “Feet flat, boy,” Vance ordered. “You don’t want to be off-balance without your hands to stop a fall.”

  Len obeyed, planting his feet, then spreading them slightly at Vance’s next order.

  “More.” Vance tapped his thigh, and Len shuffled a foot across the carpet until his feet were slightly more than shoulder width apart. His throat worked desperately, and Vance felt a surge of satisfaction. If his sub was nervous, he was still obeying, still willing to reach for the trust they both needed. Feeling uncomfortable wasn’t bad, as long as he could look Vance in the eye.

  “Very nice,” Vance praised.

  Len caught his eye. A flash of color invaded his cheeks and he blinked.

  It was impossible not to kiss the slightly parted lips, or resist the urge to capture Len’s bottom lip in his own teeth. Holding him by the chin, Vance did just that, taking exactly what he wanted and feeling the acquiescence of his sub under his touch. When he moved away, Len followed, floating after him, almost stumbling when he realized Vance wasn’t going to hold him up.

  He recovered, catching his balance with a jingle of the chain and abruptly halted jerk of his arms when they’d reached the limits of the restraint. He straightened.

  “Okay?” Vance asked.

  Len nodded. The flush in his cheeks deepened, creating spots of color under his freckles. God, Vance could watch the emotion play over Len’s face all day.

  Instead, he stepped back and returned to his drawer of goodies. He had plans for his sub tonight, ones he hoped Len wouldn’t balk at. But the heat had risen in him, and this pliant man made his soul sing, even if he seemed, for the moment, to have lost every other bit of music he possessed. If this was the gateway back to his music, then the rusty hinges had to be oiled.

  Vance found what he’d been looking for, returned to Len, and held it up. His heart skipped a beat or two as Len’s eyes widened at the sight of the toy, and his cheeks flushed as if he were working out its uses. Vance pushed the stool by the chair over in front of Len and sat. His sub’s cock was half-hard already, bulging out the front of his apron.

  Vance had chosen a toy that would give them both pleasure. The cock ring he’d picked had three beads attached, and Vance was confident once those beads were inside him, Len would see the appeal. It was a small step toward the kind of lovemaking Vance craved but Len wasn’t ready for. It gave them both a promise that things could get better and would remind Len, Vance hoped, that there were merits to anal play.

  Knowing this was inside his lover, that he had put it there with his own hands, gave him a rush of pleasure to even think about. Possessing that power over another human being sent a giddy pulse through Vance, and he let the adrenaline course through him a moment before clamping down and reasserting his common sense. People assuming that kind of power, taking more than had been offered, had already hurt Len too deeply. Much as Vance craved the rush of complete control, he wanted Len’s trust and happiness more. If the control was offered, eventually, so be it. If it wasn’t, he’d have to live with that.

  Pulling in a steadying, tempering breath, he laid the toy out across his palm and looked up at Len.

  Len alternately stared at the toy, then at him. Vance waited until Len’s gaze finally lighted on him and stayed there.

  “Trust me?” Vance asked.

  He watched the play of emotion through Len’s entire body—the deep swallow, shift of weight, and small twitches as if he were settling into new skin. Finally, Len cleared his throat. “I’ve never—” His eyebrows made the familiar V and his lips curved down a bit. “This is new,” he admitted.

  “What is?”

  “Cock rings. Cuffs.” He gazed into Vance’s eyes. “Feels… different.”

  “Different how?”

  Len’s frown deepened, but his body had stilled from the nervous twitching. He seemed more in deep thought than worried or upset. “More thought out?” He looked to the toy again, then back at Vance. “Nothing with Ace was ever thought out. He just took… what he wanted.” His voice had dropped to a whisper of breath, but his gaze didn’t waver. “He never planned anything out. He never stopped to ask me what I wanted. He never thought about anything, I don’t think.” He gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, actually. Nothing was ever talked about.”

  “Len, talking is—”

  “I know.”

  “Shh.” Vance rested his free hand on Len’s forearm. “Don’t interrupt.” He kept his voice gentle but the words a firm command.


  Len nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Not talkin’ means I’m makin’ assumptions I shouldn’t be makin’. If that happens, you tell me. Even if you want what I’m doin’, not askin’ ain’t okay. Ever. But especially because of what Ace did to you. You understand? I’m gonna try to choose things I think you’ll like, but I ain’t a mind reader, and it ain’t my job to be a mind reader.”

  Len nodded one more time.

  “An’ if you feel good, it’s nice to know.” Vance grinned to reassure him, but he sobered and kept Len’s attention on the conversation. “If you don’t, I need to know.”

  “I get it.”

  Vance moved his hand from Len’s arm to rest lightly on his chest. “So this don’t feel like Ace, but does it feel good? Safe?”

  Len’s lips quirked into a nervous smile. “Yeah. Weird to feel that way”—he lifted his arms slightly—“like this, but I do.”

  “Maybe not so weird if it’s really who you are.”

  Len agreed.

  “So?” Vance held the cock ring a little higher. “Cock ring first?”

  Len nodded, retaining eye contact and squaring his shoulders. “Yes, Sir.”

  Efficiently, Vance greased the ring enough to get it on, and was rewarded by Len’s soft groan and the further lifting of his cock as Vance got the ring in place.

  “Okay?” Vance checked in with him when he didn’t make any other noise or movement.

  “Y-yes, Sir.” Len licked his lips and a tentative smile crossed his face briefly. “Haven’t ever worn one before,” he reminded him. “Just… getting used to it.”

  Vance shouldn’t have been surprised by that. Len was a sub, to be sure, but certainly not an experienced one. Vance tended to take the rock-and-roll lifestyle for granted sometimes, and he knew Damian had never had any pretense of being a BDSM virgin. Len’s singer friend had made scandalous headlines with his risky behavior in questionable clubs and never made apologies or tried to correct media assumptions that he was a kinky bastard. Vance had to force himself to remember that on that score, Len was very different from Damian.

  “You’re doing fine, boy. You’ll have to kneel for the next part. Put your chest on the stool.”

  Len swallowed hard, but nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He lowered himself, but Vance didn’t get up right away.

  Eye-to-eye, they studied each other, and Vance could see the uncertainty in Len’s eyes, but he could see the willpower too, and he puffed out his own chest a bit. “You’re doin’ fine,” Vance assured him. He took Len’s face in his hands and kissed him, hyperaware of Len’s delayed reaction. Resolute in his desire to ground him in the moment, Vance swept his tongue through Len’s mouth and raked through his hair, gripping until he heard the telltale catch of breath and felt the infinitesimal release of tension in his body.

  It wasn’t complete, unmitigated trust. It was trust tempered with fear and bolstered by bad memories. It was trust determinedly given despite that fear. The decision to give it, even this uncertainly, made this slip of a man the bravest sub Vance had ever dealt with. Maybe he was the most damaged, but Vance was beginning to understand that didn’t necessarily make him the most fragile.

  Vance closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on Len’s, taking a moment to just be, to share breath and gather his equilibrium. When he moved away, there was a different sort of flush on Len’s face. His eyes sparkled, and there was no small hint of unshed tears, but they remained unshed, and Len smiled at him.

  “Ready?” Len asked, oh so softly.

  Any other sub, Vance would have reprimanded for breaking the wall down a bit between Dom and sub. But Len continued to obey the rule of looking him in the eye when he spoke, and there was concern there, not for himself and his own comfort level, but genuine concern for Vance.

  Vance kissed him again, deeper, harder, more demanding, and when he pulled away, it was to stand and leave the stool clear for Len to lean over.

  Len looked up at him, smiled that soft smile again, and lowered himself without comment. He took a moment to find a comfortable place for his bound hands and the chain connecting them, but his eyes closed finally, and he settled into the position, body, if not completely relaxed, still on offer for Vance’s attentions.

  It took guts for Len to give him this access. In his experience, anything could and did happen, whether he wanted it to or not, and he was exposing himself to the utter destruction his trust could cause if Vance betrayed it.

  Vance ran a hand over the presented skin as he took a position on the floor behind Len. The balls dangling from the cock ring glistened with the lube Vance had spread over them. Careful to keep one hand on Len at all times, so his sub would know where he was and what he was doing, Vance awkwardly squirted a bit of lube onto his finger.

  “I’m going to assume, since you went to all this trouble, Len, that you also cleaned yourself up nicely for my benefit?” Vance asked, running his slicked finger lightly over Len’s hole.

  “Yes, Sir,” Len whispered. A shiver flashed through him, and he broke out in gooseflesh as Vance touched the finger more firmly to his entrance.

  “You okay?” Vance asked as he pressed.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good boy.” He offered the praise as he pushed inside. Not far. He didn’t need to open Len enough for fucking. That would come some other day. If it came at all. He simply didn’t want the first thing Len felt back here to be the cold, hard surface of an anal bead being forced into his body.

  Len’s breath left him in a whoosh, and Vance felt the immediate clench of his muscles around his finger. God, he was so tight, and it wasn’t just the tightness of an ass that had been out of commission for a long time. It was tightness born of fear and discomfort. The tightness of refusal.

  Vance eased out and stroked a hand over Len’s back until he had relaxed again. His eyes were open now, and staring into the middle distance.

  “Thought I could,” Len murmured.

  “You can.” Vance caressed his bottom, stroked a finger down his crack and over his hole. “You will.” He made the pronouncement, made it as a man who expected to get what he wanted from the situation, as a man who was not going to back away.

  Len nodded without lifting his head. “Yes, Sir.” His voice was hollow, his thighs quivering.

  Vance continued to stroke, covering his legs and back and ass with comforting, warm touch. When Len had once more eased his weight less on his tense muscles and more on the ottoman under his chest, Vance tried again.

  This time, Len clenched but almost immediately released and wiggled slightly to get more comfortable. Vance heard Len’s throat working around small, unhappy noises, but he left his finger where it was this time as he stroked and hummed the song Len had written.

  Finally, Len let out a sigh and his shoulders eased. The chain between his cuffs tightened across his ass as his arms released their tension, and Vance admired the way the rings bit white circles into soft flesh. He ran a finger along the chain, tickling the flesh between the links, studying Len’s face as he did. At that touch, Len moaned and his eyes drifted closed. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and Vance smiled.

  “Good boy,” he assured Len. “I knew you could give me this.” He pushed his finger in farther, and there was a small shifting of Len’s weight as he took it, but no tensing this time.

  “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. The phrase was fast becoming his mantra, and Vance was content to hear it uttered in all the varied, breathy tones of Len’s beautiful voice.

  Satisfied Len was receptive now, Vance removed his finger and picked up the string of beads. He set the first one against Len’s entrance and laid a hand over the chain, and small of Len’s back, holding him still.

  “You’ll take this for me too, boy.” He spoke softly as he worked, dictating to Len what was required of him tonight. “I’ll be pleased knowing you’re sitting at the table eating and all the while, be filled with my toy. Afterward, you’ll clean up while I get ready for bed.”
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br />   Len grunted as the first ball slipped inside, but he didn’t open his eyes or let go of his lower lip. He didn’t tense up.

  “You’ll come to bed, and I’ll be ready for you.”

  The second ball disappeared, and Len made a small noise in his throat. He did open his eyes and squirm, trying to see Vance.

  Vance touched his cheek, and he settled. He touched his mouth, and Len released his lip and kissed Vance’s fingertip. When Vance slipped his finger past his lips, Len sucked lightly and his eyes closed again.

  “You don’t want to sing yet, boy, I can find other useful things for your pretty mouth.”

  He took his finger back, and Len made a soft noise of protest, but in the next breath, he was uttering his mantra again. “Yes, Sir.”

  Vance inserted the last ball and pushed it in until the silicone attaching them to the cock ring was nestled tight and secure between Len’s balls. He bent and kissed the skin between Len’s tailbone and his entrance. “There,” he said approvingly. “Lovely.”

  He helped Len to his feet and accepted his weight when Len instinctively leaned into him, resting his cheek against Vance’s chest.

  “Thank you, Sir,” he whispered, and Vance could feel the heat in Len’s face seep into his skin.

  “Thank you, boy.” Vance held him tightly for a moment before setting him back on his feet. “Come downstairs now.”

  Len followed him down, meekly obeying, but there was peace in his eyes, and Vance thrilled to see it. When they reached the kitchen, Vance turned to him. “Water for the pasta?” he asked.

  Len looked at him, confused.

  “Is this it?” Vance asked, lifting the lid off one of the two pots on the stove.

  “Yes. But if you undo my hands—” Len flushed. “Yes, Sir. That’s the water.”

  “Good. Do I just turn it on?”

  “It needs oil.”

  “Oil?” Vance knew he made a face, and Len’s smile was radiant and made his cheeks pink.

  “To keep the pasta from sticking together. The oil is on the counter.” He bobbed his chin at the space beside the fridge. “There. Pour in about a quarter cup.”

  “Sounds like a lot.”