Florentine

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3Mahiro closes the door and leans against it, then slides all the way down to the floor.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

He was everything Mahiro hoped and more: responsive and tactile, easily directed, and so achingly beautiful it made Mahiro’s heart thump painfully. He was also so devastatingly sexy that Mahiro is still sitting here with half a hard-on, only barely concealed from Alex’s eyes by the bind of a full-coverage dance belt.

Mahiro fumbles his phone from his pocket and sends a quick text to Adam.

Using the bathtub if that’s ok.

His phone pings almost immediately with a reply:

Damn son that’s some quick work.

Funny. No, for me. He’s gone.

You get 20 minutes starting now.

Mahiro chuckles, then heads for the door at the end of the hall that leads down into the basement, where he and Adam have set up their equipment. He hates calling it a dungeon; most people do, but that whole creepy leather scene gives them both hives. He steps down the twenty-three stairs until he reaches the bottom and flips the hall lights on. The door to the playroom sits to the left of the bottom of the stairs, and there are two more doors farther along the hall. One leads to a storage room, and one is to the large bathroom they’d installed for aftercare, an indulgence after Adam had gotten a promotion last year. It’s bigger than any other bathroom in the house, and while it’s not something they use every day, the large whirlpool tub is calling to his rather unsettled state.

Mahiro pushes the door open and flips the low-level lights on. The chrome fixtures gleam against the white porcelain and the warm cork flooring, and Mahiro sighs contentedly as he fills the tub and tosses in some of the lemongrass bath salts they keep in a bowl on the small shelf above.

It’s so quiet that as Mahiro climbs in, the slosh of the water echoes against his eardrums. The heat is soothing, slipping over his skin and warming his muscles. The water rises up over his chin as he wonders what it will be like to bring Alex here after a particularly intense scene, his skin pink and wet from exertion, eyes half-closed from the rush of endorphins from the orgasm Mahiro had denied him for hours. Mahiro imagines nestling Alex between his thighs, letting his head fall back against Mahiro’s shoulder as the shiver of adrenaline takes him and Mahiro pets his hair and kisses his neck and tells him how beautiful, how perfect, how amazing he is.

Yes, Mahiro thinks as he slips his hands down his thighs. That’s perfect, the fantasy has pushed him all the way past hard into aching. He passes a hand over his c**k lightly, teasing himself for a few moments before he jerks himself with slow, luxurious pulls, his orgasm building and building as he remembers the silk of Alex’s hair sliding through his fingers, his pupils dilated with arousal. Mahiro’s quick breaths echo against the tiled walls, back arching as he comes.

Mahiro rinses his hand in the water, then pushes it through his hair. If that’s what he feels like after barely touching Alex, he can only imagine what it’s going to be like to f**k him.

Mahiro feels giddy for a moment before the guilt washes over him.

He shouldn’t have told Alex his preferences before Alex had made up his own mind. Mahiro’s post-orgasm satisfaction abruptly disappears and he thumps his head back against the side of the tub. Dammit.

“You’d better be done jerking off because I’m coming in,” Adam calls through the door.

“You’ve seen it like a billion times already,” Mahiro calls. “Just come in.”

Adam throws the door open and practically dances over to the side of the tub, dropping onto the short stool they keep there and putting his chin in his hands, expectant.

Mahiro wonders if he could just wait him out.

“Don’t even try,” Adam chirps. “I will be here until the end of time or you tell me how things went, whichever happens first.”

Mahiro sighs. “Okay, okay. He was…perfect, Adam. Like, better than I could have hoped for.”

Adam leans forward, like he’s gotten the juiciest gossip of the year and won the lottery and it’s all happening right in his own house. He’s beaming. “That’s f*****g incredible. But how do you know? I mean, you just did all the paperwork and everything, right? Is his yes list really long? Is it gonna get really wild?”

Mahiro bites his lip. “Well, I may have screwed up, just a tiny bit,” he says.

Adam’s smile falls. “What. How?”

“I. Um.” C’mon, Mahiro, you’d better confess and get it over with. “I sort of. I told him I liked s*x with my partners. Before he’d made up his own mind. And. Um. I sort of already pushed him to see what he’d do, and oh, he kneeled so beautifully.”

Adam’s eyebrows are in his hairline. “You had him kneeling? Did you ask first, or talk about it at all?”

“Er. No. I just. I wanted to see if he’d take direction. You know, I’ve done that before, where you tell them to hand you a pen or whatever, and I couldn’t help it, he was ready. I didn’t really do anything else, though.”

Adam quirks his mouth into a half frown, considering. “Well, it’s not the best but it’s not awful, either. He did it, though?”

“Yeah.” Mahiro closes his eyes, remembering the sinuous line that runs from Alex’s neck to his shoulder. “He’s coming back next Friday. I need to be ready. More in control. I can’t let him know he’s got that much of an effect on me. I can’t fall for him, Adam. I’ve got to be stronger.”

Adam laughs and ruffles Mahiro’s hair, affectionate. “Oh, sweetheart. I think you’ve lost that battle already.”

* * * *

The week seems to drag on forever. Mahiro goes into a frenzy of cleaning from the time he gets home from work until after ten o’clock at night, scouring every inch of the usually spotless playroom and scrubbing the grout in the tiles of the bathroom with an old toothbrush. He polishes every inch of chrome and brass exposed in the playroom, oils the leather harnesses, wraps and rewraps the ropes. Only Adam’s cabinet is left untouched, except for when Mahiro climbs up a ladder and vacuums the top. Adam catches him at it and refuses to let him live it down; he finds notes all over the house with “Clean here” and arrows pointing to shelves, the fridge, behind the sofa, even Mahiro’s own bedroom.

“f**k you,” Mahiro calls and pulls the note off his door. “I can’t help that I’m nervous.”

“I know, so we may as well take advantage of it,” Adam says from his open door across the hall. “Have you sent him his ‘welcome to the party’ email yet?”

“That’s what I came up here to do.”

“Not to give you advice or anything, but I will anyway: remember this guy is used to performing through pain. He’s probably stronger than you’re used to, but don’t take advantage of it.”

“I know, I remember what it’s like.” Mahiro remembers the horrifying bruises and bloodied feet; he wonders if Alex’s skating has left any permanent imprints. “I wonder if he still skates at all.”

“Probably. You still do. Why wouldn’t he?”

Mahiro nods and sits down to compose the list of instructions for Alex’s visit on Friday. Simple, to the point, no room for misunderstanding.

Alex:

I hope you’re doing well this week and you’re still prepared to move forward with our agreement. If so, here are the things you need to remember for Friday:

Arrive at 7:00 P.M. sharp. Do not be late. Do not be early.

You may walk into the house without knocking. Simply come in, follow the hall to the black door with an antique brass knob situated at the very back, and take the stairs down. The first door you encounter will be open. Undress down to your underwear and place your clothes on the stool that sits right inside the door.

Take your waiting position on the red cushion that will be in the middle of the floor.

I will meet you there, and I expect you to be ready by 7:05.

I look forward to seeing you. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have in the meantime. I have received the copy of your STI test results, thank you. Everything looks good.

Mahiro

He still can’t quite believe this is happening, but he hits Send anyway and crosses his fingers he didn’t mistype the email address Alex gave him. He then scrubs his hands over his face, flops onto his bed, and stares at the ceiling.

He’s got some serious planning to do, and it’s already Wednesday.

* * * *

Friday at 6:57 P.M. finds Mahiro sitting patiently on the other side of the sliding door to the living room that sits perpendicular to his front door, looking at his phone and trying to keep his leg still so the incessant tapping doesn’t give him away.

6:58. Anytime now.

6:59.

7:00. Mahiro’s heart thumps with anticipation, but there’s nothing.

7:01. The click of the door and hesitant steps. Damn.

Lesson one.

* * * *

At 7:05 P.M. on the nose, Mahiro takes a steadying, calming breath and opens the door to the playroom.

And tries not to come in his pants at what he sees.

Alex, clad in nothing but low-slung purple briefs, hair perfectly coiffed, kneeling precisely as asked with his hands carefully placed on his thick, beautiful thighs. Head poised, back delicately arched as if he were at the barre. And his face, oh God.

He turns at the sound of the door and his smile is soft, inviting, seductive.

Mahiro has to turn around and pretend to lock the door just to give himself a mental slap. Yes, he’s here, yes, he’s beautiful, yes, he wants you to do all sorts of filthy things to him, but you are responsible for him, so f*****g handle yourself, Seta.

So he says nothing, simply walks across the room to stand in front of Alex, wishing that lovely smile could last all night. But it can’t.

“Good evening, Alex,” he says. “You were late.”

Alex blinks. “I wasn’t! I mean, I was here at five after seven, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but I said to be at the house at seven. Not early, not late.”

Alex looks down, disappointed. “I’ve messed up already?”

Mahiro sighs. Oh, this is going to be so difficult. “Yes, Alex. You’ll learn I mean exactly as I say. No more, no less. This is your one warning. If it happens again, you will be punished.”

“It won’t, I promise.”

Mahiro walks toward his cabinet, unlocks it, and selects his riding crop from among the various toys hanging inside. The feel of it in his hand grounds him, chases his nerves away. He leaves the door open, just so Alex can get a good look, and walks back. “I expect your obedience in all things. I mete out punishment and pleasure as I see fit, and as you deserve. I’m not hard, nor am I unfair, but I am strict.”

“Okay,” Alex says and shifts on his knees. “I’ll be more careful. It’s just, the cab, and traffic—”

Mahiro flicks his crop out and taps him on the shoulder. He doesn’t hit him hard, but it probably is startling.

“Ow!” Alex snaps. “What’s that for?”

“Stop making excuses. Or it’s your ass next.”

Alex opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but Mahiro sends him his most quelling look, standing over him with legs spread and crop over his shoulder. It’s an intimidating picture, he knows; he’s calculated his entire persona to be so without verbalizing much at all. Alex closes his mouth and kneels there, staring at Mahiro with wide blue eyes.

That’s got his attention. Mahiro circles him once again, wondering how long he could actually kneel there without getting tired. His muscle tone is still perfect, and, as he looks more closely, there is a tell-tale bruise on his hip from a fall on the ice. He reaches out with his crop and drags the leather tongue from Alex’s nape to his waist in a long, slow pull, and watches Alex’s skin twitch ever so slightly.

“You’re going to do so much better, Alex. I know you can. We’re going to forget all about the last five minutes and start again. Shall we try out a few things and see if you like them?”