Florentine

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Alex checks the address once again, straightens his collar, and smooths down his hair. He paces a couple of steps across the stoop, stops, lifts his hand to knock on the glossy black door of Mahiro and Adam’s brick town house, and pauses. Again.

He’s almost positive he’s gotten in way over his head. He told Chris so several times, each time the hysteria mounting higher and higher, culminating in a small meltdown in his kitchen less than an hour before he was to leave.

“This is crazy!” he snapped at Chris. “You’re asking me to put myself into the hands of a perfect stranger, to let him…I don’t know what! Slap me, or hurt me, or, or, f**k me! He’s going to want to f**k me, isn’t he?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to do anything. Remember, this was entirely your idea, mister writer man. The real experience, you said, and well, I’m giving it to you, all wrapped up in a hot little package. He might want to f**k you; he might not. I know he’s f****d me, and it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the point.”

Alex raked his hands through his hair. “But you know what you’re doing!”

“That’s what he’s going to teach you, mon chaton. How to know, and how to please him.” Chris walked over and pulled Alex’s hands from his hair. “Trust me, Alex. Trust him. I know you don’t know him, but I do. He’ll be sure you’re comfortable before anything happens. I swear. And when you do please him, there’s nothing like it in the world. Believe me, I saw the look on his face when you met. He would like nothing more than to make you beg for it. You’ve got his attention, Alex, and that’s rare enough. His partners are few and very select.”

Alex chuckled ruefully, his fear subsiding somewhat. “Do you really think he found me…attractive? At all? Because he’s gorgeous and I don’t know if I’ll survive this if I can’t make him at least feel something. I mean, he’s got to get some satisfaction out of it, right?”

Chris just hugged him and rubbed a calming hand over his back. “If you don’t come out of this with him eating out of the palm of your hand, then I never knew you at all.”

Alex blows out a breath, grips his courage with both hands, and knocks. There are a few moments of silence, then a scrabbling of door locks, and Alex braces himself as the door swings open.

Mahiro. Standing there in perfectly ordinary jeans and a deep blue T-shirt, barefoot, and his hair is soft and tousled over his forehead, not slicked back like it was the other week. And he’s wearing glasses.

“Hi,” he says, giving Alex a bit of a perplexed look. “Are you all right?”

Alex snaps himself out of his own head. He’s being rude. “Yes! Sorry, I was just. Um. You just look…ah. Different than last week.”

Mahiro giggles and the sound is delightful. “Well, yes, of course. What did you expect? Leather and chains?” He gestures Alex into the hall and begins to lead him toward the back of the house.

“Well…”

“No, that’s later,” Mahiro says and winks as he leads him through a wide-open kitchen with an entire wall of windows on one side and a French door set into the center. Alex trips over the area rug as he walks through. Smooth, Breschi. f*****g hell.

Mahiro steadies him with a hand on his arm. “I was just kidding, Alex. You can relax, you know. We’re just going to talk today. There’s a whole lot we need to go over first.”

Talk. Yes. Alex can certainly do that, and takes a seat on the wicker sofa Mahiro directs him to on his small back patio. He’s got a pitcher of what looks like strawberry lemonade and snacks set out, and a rather intimidating-looking stack of paper sits in a neat pile right next to it. Alex’s hands curl over his knees. He’s not even sure what to do next.

Mahiro doesn’t seem uncomfortable at all, simply climbs onto the other end of the sofa and tucks his feet under him. He looks soft and quiet, nothing at all like the commanding Dominant Chris described to him when the idea first came up months ago, or even the person he saw last weekend. He’s studying Alex like he’s memorizing his features, and Alex realizes he’s waiting for something. Waiting for him.

“I have to be honest, Mahiro. I’m a little afraid I might have underestimated, here. I have no clue what to do.”

Mahiro’s lips quirk in a smile and he nods. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Because frankly, you have no idea what you’re getting into, and I’m glad that instead of trying to bluff your way through it you felt how uncomfortable it was and you were honest with me. That’s incredibly important. If this is going to work at all, you must be honest, always, without hesitation. And I will be the same with you. Do you understand?”

Alex nods slowly, relieved at least to have passed this unexpected first test. “That seems fair.”

“Not just fair, essential. Now, I assume you’ve talked a lot of this over with Chris and at least have some idea of what’s involved in being a submissive, right?”

“Yes, he’s talked…quite a lot, actually, about it,” Alex says wryly, and Mahiro laughs. “And I’ve researched quite a bit already. I’ve read about some of the things you do, how it feels to submit to someone else’s control. In Chris’s case, sexually. But I understand that’s not necessarily always the case?”

Mahiro shifts in his seat, untucks his feet, and leans over the small table to pour lemonade. He silently hands Alex a glass. Alex takes it without saying a word and wonders if Mahiro is going to answer his question.

Mahiro settles back into the cushions and looks into his glass, studying the strawberries that float there. “Well, yes, you’re right that s*x isn’t always involved. Control and giving up control can be its own reward, its own turn-on. I’ve done plenty of scenes like that. Like last weekend; I didn’t touch Adrian sexually, not once.”

“I noticed.”

“Is that something you’d be interested in? A nonsexual way of being submissive? I realize we don’t know each other well, but, to be honest, I prefer having access to my partner’s body in almost every way I can.” Mahiro lifts his eyes and Alex’s breathing speeds up at what he sees reflected in his intent gaze: pure naked desire and a flash of power that Alex can’t look away from. He’d been debating how he wanted this experiment to play out: a soft, sexless lecture in service, being tied up or bossed around or forced to submit to various whims and needs of his master, or, as Chris described, fully giving over of himself to Mahiro, to entrust him to help Alex find that fine line where pain bleeds into pleasure, until they’re one and the same; until Alex instinctively trusts Mahiro to do what’s best for him, for his body, and all he has to do to achieve nirvana is to let go.

Alex blinks. “I think, Mahiro, that I am willing to give myself into your care. In every way I can.”

Mahiro reaches forward and grasps Alex’s wrist, his grip firm but not bruising. Practiced.

“Then let’s get started,” he purrs.

* * * *

“When you said ‘get started,’ I didn’t realize there’d be so much paperwork,” Alex grumbles. “A liability release? Seriously?”

Mahiro laughs and pops a piece of cookie in his mouth. “I play with knives, Alex. Of course there’s a liability release.”

Alex snaps his head up, but Mahiro looks completely nonchalant. “What the hell do you do with knives?”

“Bloodplay, mostly. Or just to intimidate. You’d be surprised how many people love the thrill of an extremely sharp object near their most vulnerable places, though I admit it’s not something I do often.”

Alex signs the release. The next set of papers is a thick stack, labeled “Limits.” Alex writes his name on the line provided and starts to look through it.

“Anal s*x, oral s*x, comeplay, fisting?” Alex starts checking off various boxes labeled “Hard limit,” “soft limit,” or “Yes please!”

“Make sure you ask if you don’t know what anything is,” Mahiro warns.

“Well, I know what’s definitely a hard limit,” he says and marks a huge X in the hard limit boxes for golden showers, scat play, bloodplay, electricity, breathplay, fire, fire and ice—wait. “What’s fire and ice?”

“Hot wax followed by ice. The contradiction can be intense.”

Alex considers and puts a mark in “Yes please!”

He finishes the rest as quickly as he can. Spanking gets a yes please, as does flogging, and Alex takes a second to imagine himself in Adrian’s place on the cross. Bondage, whips, suspension bondage, c**k rings all sound okay, and n****e play makes him tingle. He finishes up, hands the stack over to Mahiro, and watches, stomach tense, as he runs his eyes quickly down the boxes.

“Interesting. Our hard limits are fairly similar, though of course I have fewer than you. I can work with your soft limits—caning can be really intense, but we’ll work up to it—and your acceptable list is much longer than I expected.” Mahiro looks up at him and smiles. “I’m glad you’re not into a whole lot of bodily fluids. I usually draw the line at anything but come, really, unless I know you well.”

Alex has a sudden vision of Mahiro’s come smeared across his mouth. It’s so real he can feel himself dart his tongue across his lips in response. Jesus.

Mahiro doesn’t seem to notice; he wraps all of the paperwork up with a black ribbon and puts it into a locking case, then looks up.

“Hand me that pen,” he says casually, indicating the pen they’d been using, which is across the table from Alex and right next to Mahiro.

“It’s…right there,” Alex says, puzzled. Alex would have to scoot forward and lean over to get it and give it to him, whereas it’s less than a foot from Mahiro’s hand.

“Mmmm. So it is. But I told you to hand it to me.”

Alex catches on immediately. He leans forward, swipes the pen from the table, and tosses it to Mahiro, who catches it with narrowed eyes.

“That’s not what I said, Alex,” he purrs. His voice has dropped and carries a quiet, steely edge. “I told you to hand it to me. Be polite.”

Oh God. Alex swallows carefully and slowly returns to his position on the other end of the couch. The afternoon sun is dazzling and warm on his shoulders, and his gut is starting to buzz with tingling anticipation. Is this how they start? This careful exploration? What should he do now?

“I’m sorry?” he says, voice rising with his uncertainty, and flinches.

Mahiro smiles. “Very good.” He kicks out a foot and pushes the table away from the sofa, before sliding down a bit and crossing his legs, his gaze now intense and focused. “Kneel for me, Alex. You have lovely posture. Let me see it.”

Alex blinks. “Um. Not to be disrespectful, but these pants are—”

“You might want to reconsider,” Mahiro says, careful and sharp. Alex takes the warning for what it is and slips down to his knees and prays to the dry cleaning gods for their understanding. Mahiro stands and draws closer, slowly walking around him and scrutinizing Alex’s body.

“What you think about my requests doesn’t matter, Alex,” Mahiro says and pulls Alex’s shoulders back slightly so his chest is pushed out and head tipped up. Alex is abruptly reminded of his ballet classes. “You’re here to please me, to satisfy me. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir,” Mahiro prompts.

Alex swallows. “Yes, sir,” he says, and the words feel slightly strange on his tongue. He’s called many people sir or ma’am in his life, but it never felt quite like this. “But what do I get for doing what you tell me?”

Mahiro chuckles. “Your pride, for now. Chris wouldn’t have even thought twice, and you’re competitive with him, I think. But later? It could be many things.”

Alex shifts on his knees. They’re starting to hurt, his toes awkward in his shoes where they’re pressed against the hard stone of the patio. Mahiro stills him with a hand on his shoulder, the heat bleeding through the fabric of his shirt, and leans close to Alex’s ear.

“Would you like me to f**k you?” he says, and goose bumps erupt along Alex’s entire body.

“Um, well, I—”

Mahiro moves to stand in front of him until the front of his jeans is less than six inches from Alex’s face. “Or maybe you’d like to suck me off?”

Alex’s entire field of vision is nothing but denim and the edge of a blue T-shirt, and he can’t make out a single twitch, or even a slight thickening behind it. Is Mahiro even turned on by this at all? Alex’s hard and he’s horrified he’s leaving a wet spot.

“Kiss me?” Alex bites out, desire blurring away any last reservations he might have had.

Mahiro closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No, not on the mouth,” he says. “But other places.”

Alex is immediately disappointed. Mahiro steps away from him and sits down so they’re eye to eye.

“I need you to choose a safeword,” Mahiro says, and his voice is a bit fuzzy, filtered as it is through the haze of Alex’s curtailed arousal. “You know what a safeword is, yes?”

Alex nods slowly. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it. Chris told me to.” He’s got to get his head together. Mahiro has barely even touched him, for f**k’s sake, and he feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Good.” Mahiro drags a fingernail over the shell of Alex’s ear, and he can’t help it; Alex’s eyes close and his shoulders sag with shuddering pleasure. “What is it?”

“Salchow.”

Mahiro pulls his hand back, and Alex could swear he hears a quick intake of breath.

“Is—is that okay?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s…it’s fine. Salchow,” he repeats, and his slight accent gives the word a beautiful lilt. “It’s a jump in figure skating, correct?”

Alex nods and glances up. Mahiro’s voice has turned a bit quieter, softer, and he looks…sad?

“Good. Never be afraid to use it if things go too far, too quickly. Even right now. There are other signals, too, but we’ll go over those later.” He seems to shake himself out of wherever his mind went and takes Alex’s hands and places them on top of his thighs. “This is your waiting position. I expect you to be in it when I see you next.” He then looks Alex right in the eye and slides his hand through Alex’s hair, his fingertips dragging across Alex’s scalp in a loving caress. Alex’s head lolls on his neck for a moment, luxuriating in the sensual touch until Mahiro unexpectedly tightens a fist in his hair and pulls his head back. Alex’s eyes pop open in shock, not in pain, necessarily, but he knows if Mahiro so much as twists it’s going to hurt.

“Are you still ready for this?” Mahiro asks quietly, still holding on to his hair.

“Yes, sir,” Alex responds, and there it is; there’s the flash of heat he’s been longing to see, and he’s drowning in the way Mahiro’s eyes go dark with desire.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping Alex’s cheek. Alex sighs and tries to nuzzle into the touch. Mahiro lingers a moment, then pulls his hand away abruptly. “Then I’ll see you next week. I’ll send you further instructions before then.” He lets go of Alex’s hair and skims his hand through it to straighten it, then takes Alex’s hands, helps him rise, and brushes the dirt from the knees of his pants. Alex is so dazed by what just happened he can’t string two words together. Why is he doing this again? Oh, yes. The book. Writing. Got it.

Mahiro leads him through the house again and to the front door. He opens it politely and ushers Alex out onto the front stoop. “Goodbye, Alex. I look forward to next Friday.” He starts to close the door, but Alex slaps a hand against it.

“Wait,” Alex says, panicked. “What should I wear?”

Mahiro grins, wicked. “It really doesn’t matter. You won’t be in it longer than two minutes after you enter this house.”

He closes the door and Alex sags against the railing, weak in the knees and absolutely undone.