"Encompassed"

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Title: “Encompassed…”

Author: xof

Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com

Rating: NC-17 (Very, very….lol)

Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)

Genre: First Time, Drama, Angst

Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do…. My two OMC’s are mine, even though Alexis would like it very much if I’d allow them to visit her house…lol.

Status: Complete, but will be posted in 11 parts. (over 126 pages total )

Summary: An exploration of Michael’s submissive nature, and Brian’s resulting claim. With a little help from two new friends….

Timeline: Set after the finale of Season Two, varying irrevocably onward from there.

Pairing Note: This is very much a Brian/Michael story. However, I have created two original characters based on (and only on) the physical appearance of the actors Aidan Gillen and Craig Kelly. My OMC’s are not meant to represent the actual actors or any of their onscreen roles.

Notes: This baby took 8 months to write, and is in fact my 50^th posted story. Its length and those facts are all milestones for me, so I hope you enjoy. It drove me crazy, it wore me down and built me back up again. Tremendous gratitude to Alexis for being there through its creation, always encouraging and giving her two cents - and for the fabulous beta and preface. Thanks to Mistress Teri, for letting me pick her head and helping me round out the concept at the beginning. And to the ladies who had a very small peek early on, hope you like the end result, hugs.

Additional Notes: To be found at the end of the fic. Will include links to name origins, and to pictures I found inspiring - including clothing and toys.

Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission, and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play. There is no S/M activity between Brian and Michael, which means no PAIN. There is one scene in part one that does touch on S/M, but it’s built off of a scene shown in canon - nothing too heavy at all. Our boys only act as witnesses to it. So I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they rediscover each other, and themselves, in this new way.

Encompassed…

By xof

February 1, 2005

- - - - - - -

Preface - by Alexis

D/s is a broad term for Dominance/submission. This one term can describe a scene between a Dominant and submissive, or more rarely, a 24/7 relationship between a Master and slave. Regardless of what is occurs between them, people who are involved in these relationships remember the three basic tenets of BSDM: safe, sane and consensual.

For the purposes of this small intro, I'll speak to more of the 24/7 relationship or relationships where D/s is included within daily life.

D/s relationships or scenes are not about pain or torture. The misconception that Dominants sit around and are 'served' by the submissives is an oversimplified way of thinking of these types of relationships. Additionally, to think that the submissive is simply 'used' by their dominant is another narrow-minded view.

Like any relationship, D/s relationships take work, from both parties. Both parties are responsible for the upkeep of the relationship. A sub or a slave isn't expected to be passive and leave all decisions up to their respective other half. Scenes are negotiated, checklists and surveys are done. Nothing is entered into lightly!

Good D/s relationships come from a place of love and respect. They come from mutual admiration for their respective partner's place. And they are never abusive!

To give over and to accept control are two wonderful experiences. I hope that you enjoy the story and approach it with an open mind and most of all, enjoy the way xof has presented D/s in this story.

- - - - - - -

“Encompassed…”

By xof

- - - - - - -

Part 1

- - - - - - -

The silence of the night was broken, split by the metallic click flip of a lighter being opened and palmed with its fire at full flame. Tilting his head up slightly from the warm comfort of its resting place, Brian lit the end of the remains of their last joint - reviving it after it had gone out a moment before. Only a toke or two each was left, but he was always one to see a good thing through to the end.

Smiling in amusement at his own thought, Brian flicked his wrist and closed his favorite lighter down. Drawing deep, he held the smoke inside and leaned his head back to nuzzle down into the feel of his headrest - caught between the high, the warmth of the heat inside and the pleasure of warm skin against the back of his neck. Letting go of one as he exhaled, Brian turned his head to enjoy the sensation of the other - resting his cheek against the back upon which he was lounging.

Reaching his arm out lazily, he handed off the weed with a soft murmured, “Last one, better hold it in.”

His human pillow shifted slightly as Brian’s offering was accepted, then time fell in with silence for a bit until the moment’s ease was interrupted by the sound of coughing. Brian turned onto his side; his hand rubbing over the expanse of other’s back until the violence settled and was gone. “Easy, Mikey. It’s strong.”

Michael didn’t answer. He just nodded as he lay his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes, content to remain sprawled out on his stomach over Brian’s white shag rug - floating in a haze without cause for thought. Or memory… Or pain. There was no sense of loss in this moment, only the contentment of familiarity and home. His safe haven embraced after too long in the shadows of sadness.

After too many days of avoiding the company of others, of Brian…. And all because he’d been desperate to process the reality of being as alone as he had been left.

Left by….

He had to fight from voicing the name of the one who had gone; who had chosen to remove himself from Michael’s life to follow his path through Tibetan climbs on the road to Enlightenment. How was one to fight against the call of the intangible? How was a man supposed to compare or compete? Especially with a ticking clock striking down each moment that his lover hesitated to follow his dream.

In the end, Michael had accepted that it wasn’t a battle he could win. And so he’d said goodbye with a smile, leaving the tears to fall in private.

The irony being that all this turmoil he was feeling inside was but the calm before the coming storm….

“Michaellllllllll….” Brian teased in a low sing-song voice, trying to get his friend’s attention. When Michael didn’t respond, Brian sighed. He too was feeling the first true sense of relaxation he’d known in the weeks following Justin’s departure. Too much partying to forget, fucking to feel and working longer hours than he’d ever done before - all to get through the days and nights without having to admit or acknowledge that he needed more than had seemed to satisfy in the past.

He could put up the front that all things were fine, fabulous - nothing out of place in his world. But Brian was coming to realize that each passing vice consumed or conquered now seemed lacking - the edge dulled by experience. Not that he was ready to suspend his habits. He figured that his funk would pass with time.

Besides, there was Michael to consider as well. His best friend was at risk of becoming a hermit after Ben’s leaving. Like Brian, working too much - but unlike Brian in that he instantly vanished back to his solitary apartment when sought out to join the gang on the town. Brian was of the opinion that Michael needed to stop internalizing his pain, and if Brian had to force him back out into the life of Liberty - as he planned to do this very evening, then all the better for them both.

Selfish as it was, Brian enjoyed seeing life through Michael’s eyes. Watching him react and respond to the men, the music, the dancing and such - it made Brian feel more than his own jaded nature would allow him on his own. And tonight he planned to pay very close attention to everything Michael.

It was time for a change from their routine. To once more be the purveyor of another first in Michael’s life.

But first things first….

Brian rose up from his perpendicular resting place, which had consisted of using Michael’s body as his pillow. A wicked grin foreshadowing his intent, he straddled Michael’s lower back and shoved his hands beneath the thin yellow cotton t-shirt that had been rucked up earlier as Michael lay down on the rug - tickle torture intent on Brian’s mind.

“Brian!” Michael jerked and thrashed, desperate to free himself from Brian’s torment - laughing even as he fought to turn around under Brian’s touch. It took major struggling, but finally Michael managed to roll over and grab at his friend’s hands. He tried to get Brian to stop, panting and laughing until his face was flushed and damp with tears.

Just when he thought he’d managed to plead his way out of more, Michael cried out in surprise as Brian grabbed him and rolled them both over - coming to a stop with Michael lying atop his body. He laughed as Michael made an attempt to pull away, barred by the strength of Brian’s hold - but the laugh turned into a gasp as Michael’s squirming inadvertently brought their groins together in a way that had each freezing on the cusp of a moan.

Michael held still, breathing hard from their play and from the affects of being against Brian. Captured in the moment and by the man below, he waited breathlessly for Brian’s next move - unable to control the impulse of his gaze as it wandered from Brian’s eyes to his friend’s mouth and back, more than once in the interim.

Following his instincts, Brian dragged a hand up to thread through Michael’s hair and pulled him down. Speaking low, “Come here, Mikey,” he made to take the kiss they both wanted. He murmured in appreciation as Michael gave into the touch of his lips, into the guiding of his tongue as they opened for more.

Freefalling…. It was the best word Michael could find to describe the sensation of Brian’s kiss. It took him outside himself and warmed him in a way that left him riding a deeper high than any smoke could provide. He didn’t even stop to reason why it was happening, only glad that it was.

The sudden sweep of need rushed over them as Brian clutched Michael close, turning to cover his friend only to pull away with equal swiftness when….

“Oh shit!”

Lifting up, Brian frowned at the sight of Michael lying in the remains of their pizza box - his back and side covered in marinara sauce. One look at the mess, at Michael’s grimacing face and Brian lost his composure - completely. He fell back onto the rug and laughed so hard, so gut-wrenchingly loud that Michael could only shake his head and say, “You asshole.”

Finally recovering his breath enough to speak, Brian sat up. “And proud of it.” He watched Michael ease out of the complete mess of cardboard and dipping sauce. “Speaking of asses, you realize the only thing that’s saving yours right now is that the box was on the floor rather than the rug, right?”

The double entendre presented with those words weighed upon them both, but present concerns overrode any possible intent as Michael stood up and tried to hold the shirt out, away from his skin. “You started it, you shit. Now what am I gonna do?”

Brian went to Michael, circling him to get a look at the disaster area that used to be a shirt. “I’d say the t-shirt’s a goner. Take it off and I’ll dump it with the rest of the mess. You can have one of mine after you wash in the bathroom.”

Michael slowly slid the icky wreck over his head and left for cleanup, missing Brian’s quiet, “Perfect timing.”

Making quick work of cleaning up the loft floor, Brian walked up the steps to his bedroom and pulled off his clothes. There wasn’t any time to spare because he didn’t know how long Michael would take, but he wanted to be ready for his friend’s return.

Several minutes later, Michael exited the bathroom toweling his hair from where it had gotten wet. He’d decided a quick in and out in the shower would be the easiest way to cleanup, especially since he didn‘t want to smell like a pizzeria for the rest of the night. He’d grimaced at having to put his jeans back on since they’d been splattered by sauce here and there too, but he hadn’t brought anything else to wear into the room.

Coming to a stop, Michael pulled the towel off his head just as he was grabbed from behind. Laughing at Brian’s playfulness - it was something he’d been missing, Michael asked. “What the hell? Brian, cut it out.” He tried to step away, but once more he was held from escaping.

“Now, now… Mikey. Behave.” Brian’s voice against his ear was provocative enough for Michael to close his eyes, giving into the desire to stay in Brian’s arms and absorb the warmth of his friend against his back. He was startled after a bit to feel a shirt being drawn over his head, but he trustingly raised his arms as Brian stretched the fabric over his torso. Stretched being the operative word….

Looking down at what he’d been plastered in, Michael looked up and back at Brian. “Black lycra? If you tell me this is a Justin kink-night leftover, I’m gonna kick you in the balls.”

Tisking dramatically, Brian circled round. “I bought it brand new, smartass. For you.”

Of course one look at Brian’s change in apparel, and Michael’s questions fell into forgetfulness. The one word that did register in Michael’s awestruck brain was a silent, ‘Wow.’ Long legs encased in leather; leather brown and dark, custom tailored to look warn down and rough in all the right bends and places with scuffing at the knees and along the inner thighs - made to look like its owner had ridden long and hard any manner of creature or man he could conquer. Michael swallowed back the cough that threatened to pass through his suddenly dry throat, and looked further up the line of Brian’s body.

The pants began in a low slung absence of a waistband, just a line that dipped and cut down in a tight ‘V’ which hugged Brian’s hips, drawing Michael’s gaze down to the supple leather stretched over flesh which housed Brian’s groin with deliberate effect. There couldn’t have been an inch between the beginning of the suede cords that held the pants closed and what must have been the beginning of the hair hidden just below. Feeling his face heating up, Michael looked up quickly - taking in the sleeveless silk t-shirt in matching brown that covered Brian’s chest, and then up to the man’s face.

A face that held an answering warmth, and a satisfaction at Michael’s initial reaction to the view. A face spread by an intimate smile…. A face with mischief shining through hazel eyes.

“Oh, no. No fucking way!” Michael shook his head as he reached to pull his newly acquired shirt back over his head, only to be stopped as Brian jerked his hands away and held him still. “I’m not going to Babylon with you. Not tonight.” He tried to side-step Brian, only to find himself pressed up against the wall.

Brian lowered his head to Michael’s, foreheads touching as they looked into the other’s eyes. “Go with me, Mikey. Especially tonight.” He lowered his mouth to Michael’s to still any protest, keeping the kiss soft and light but with enough guile to silence Michael’s words. He knew through long experience that Michael had always managed to avoid going to Babylon’s Leather Ball. Either because of work, illness (feigned or real, who could say) or boyfriend - it was the one night a year that Brian could count on Michael’s absence. Over the years, Brian had stopped bothering to ask - using it as teasing material but nothing serious. He’d never really thought to question why Michael avoided it; had only really put the clues together recently when he realized that for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were unattached and off the clock together on the same night as the ball.

“Let me take you.” The words were murmured once more across their passing lips, Brian’s voice soft and low. “A new adventure, just the two of us.” His smiled as Michael shivered against him, breathing a sharp gasp between them as Brian licked once, in the barest way, across his lip. “Say yes.”

Michael knew what Brian was doing, knew that his friend understood the power that he held over him. It wasn’t something they would discuss, but it wasn’t something they wanted to end either. Brian would push, Michael would give…. But it didn’t stop him from pushing Brian back a step, hands flat against Brian’s chest, the silk that lay between them warm from Brian’s skin.

“I can’t think when you do that.” The words, he knew were silly. They merely voiced the exact affect Brian had wanted to achieve. But Michael couldn’t feel resentment, as he stood in Brian’s arms - his lips still wet from their kiss.

Brian smiled at him, affection in his voice as well as triumph, “Then don’t think. Say yes.”

Michael bit his lip, needing to ask before he could agree, “We go together, and leave together, yes?”

Brian brushed his hand up Michael’s neck, threading his fingers into the drying spikes of his friend’s black hair. He knew what Michael was asking, that he not abandon Michael for the nearest trick. It wasn’t even with difficulty that he answered, “Yes.”

Michael looked up at him, a nervous smile in response. He wasn’t happy about where they were going, but Brian’s answer made him feel safer. He didn’t stop to question why he’d felt fear in the first place. He just said, “Yes.”

- - - - - - -

It was a banner year for Babylon’s Leather Ball decorating budget, judging by the décor that surrounded them upon entering the show. Brian let out a whistle upon his first glimpse of the view. Michael actually stopped to stare, only realizing he was blocking the entrance when he felt Brian against his back - a strong hand on his shoulder and the other at his waist. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and walked further inside; trying to act like it was a normal night.

But Michael knew there was nothing normal about it; not the way the place looked, not the way he was dressed and not the way all this was making him feel. He looked down at his clothing and shook his head, trying to fight against the voice inside that said he looked like a wannabe fuck-toy or a fool. Brian’s eyes, his encouragement, were the only things that had gotten Michael out of the loft dressed this way.

Well, that and the fact that once he’d struggled into the outfit, Brian couldn’t seem to keep his hands off. Touching him, feeling the smooth clinging slide of the lycra tee that fit his compact frame like it had been sprayed on and the sensation of new leather as it molded to his legs and ass. The pants were black leather, jean cut and tight - leaving nothing to imagine as they followed the curves of Michael’s body like a lover’s touch - covetous and firm. He’d had to leave his underwear behind, much to Brian’s amusement. But Michael had lost the desire to be defensive on that issue after Brian ran his hands over his ass a time or two.

He’d also lost the desire to question Brian about the cost of the clothes, too. Which in reflection, Michael figured was probably why Brian had touched him in the first place. Any distraction in a storm….

Brian would have disagreed. It wasn’t the cost; it was the end result. And to Brian, the result was gut-clenchingly hot. He’d stood there, impatiently waiting for Michael to get his tail out of the bathroom when out his friend came - black and glorious. The shirt, the pants, the black shine of the Docs that Michael had already owned - all of it perfection coordinated. Brian had stepped up into the bedroom, and slowly, appraisingly, he’d circled Michael as his friend shifted silently, awaiting Brian’s verdict.

The whistle had startled Michael into laughing, the sound quickly turning into a gasp as Brian ran his hands over Michael’s flat stomach - circling again to let his hand follow down and over Michael’s behind.

Giving a quick pop to the cheek he was molesting, Brian had quickly tussled Michael’s hair - mussing it into styled chaos. Slapping Michael’s hands away with a firm tisk of disapproval, he’d then given Michael the final gift for their evening.

A gift that Brian now was clasping in his hand as he led Michael through the crowd and over to the bar - three inch wide black leather studded cuffs buckled on each wrist; the matching accessory to Michael’s leather look. It was the one thing that night that Michael hadn’t questioned or looked at with disbelief. He’d just stood there, eyes a little wide - curious and…. And almost needful. Brian had stood, silent in return as he slowly lifted each of Michael’s wrists to fasten the cuffs in place.

They’d stayed there, looking at each other as Brian’s fingers caressed the soft skin of Michael’s arm above the leather. It wasn’t a moment that lasted much beyond its start, but in the time it lasted….

“Mikey, come back, come back wherever you are….”

Pulled away from the memory, Michael found Brian handing him a double shot of liquid courage. He threw it back, coughing as the alcohol burned its way down into his gut; then he turned to face the throng that surrounded them - ever mindful of Brian at his side with his hand on Michael’s back; his safe harbor in a sea of sin.

Brian had seen the scene before, through the years at Babylon and his own amateur indulgences with the odd trick. But this was Michael’s first view and Brian found his own eyes locked on Michael as he stood mesmerized. Every reaction was writ large across Michael’s face, a kaleidoscope of emotions - shock, awe, hunger, fear. They were all housed in Michael’s eyes, in the sweat of his brow and the deepening of his breath. Like a moth to flame, he was drawn into what he saw…. Curious, but still cautious of getting burned.

They stayed on the sidelines for a time; wrapped in a wave of leather and men, ever watchful but skirting the edge of actually joining in with the fray. A parade of men passed, harnessed and chapped. Leather pants, leather shorts, leather jocks - so many different looks and designs that Michael felt almost conservative in comparison to some of the outfits he saw.

Caught up in playing voyeur, Michael missed that he was the focus of not a few looks himself. Looks that were shot down by Brian’s possessive stance, his claiming touch and the back-off look in his eyes. Just as Michael had wanted not to be left alone, Brian wanted their night not to be interfered with by others. He wanted to keep what was his, to himself. It was a change in attitude that he didn’t stop to reason, focused instead on the next step of their ride.

Taking Michael’s hand, Brian pulled him through the masses until they came to the edge of what was normally the main dance floor. Tonight it had been emptied, set up as a demonstration area for the floor show. Dominated by the large St. Andrews cross, the floor held only two occupants - the players in tonight’s public exhibition. The Dom standing tall and fierce, the sub already locked into place immobile and waiting. Brian came to a stop, holding Michael in front of him - the smaller man’s back to his chest. The perfect position to watch, to witness….

They’d missed the earlier submissives; those who waited in line for just a taste of leather across their backs. But Brian was glad to see that they had made it for the main event. Music pulsed through the speakers, an insistent throbbing percussion that intensified the mood of the room. It was kept at a manageable level, one meant to accompany the slap of leather to flesh. Setting the stage for the chorus to come….

And then it came….

*Slap, Slap, Slap*

The suddenness of it, the effect of seeing it - of watching the flogger being landed again and again on the submissive’s upper back, his ass and thighs…. Seeing him gasp and moan in acceptance and need.

Michael jerked with the force of the blows, his body moving unconsciously in echo to the hits. Moving back, fitting himself into the welcome of Brian’s arms…. Arms that housed him, held him - kept him close. He bit back a sound, his whole focus caught and held - fixated on the wonder before him, both intrigued and repelled. It was almost like he was the one being hit, the one giving up - giving in…. The one willing to bare the blows with thanks and pleas for more.

It was like he didn’t even recognize the body and mind that he possessed; an introduction to new avenues of himself that had him aching to know “why,” “how“…. Even as he huddled closer to Brian at the thought of “when.”

Brian found his eyes shifting from the action on stage, settling instead on his friend. Unaware of his own tease, Michael continued to move, to shift and push against Brian as he stared ahead. Brian sucked in a breath, smiling with a wicked light in his eyes as his own body responded to the friction. He was enjoying Michael’s enrapt expression, the press of his dark head as it lay against Brian’s shoulder and the feel of Michael’s arms intertwined with Brian’s hugging grasp.

Unable to resist, Brian leaned in and spoke in Michael’s ear - enjoying the shudder his words caused. “It must hurt soooo good.”

Brian’s words fell just as the man onstage cried out, riding the high of his pain’s pleasure. He was saying, “Yes,” and, “Please, Sir,” in almost endless repetition; his voice growing rough with use as he pushed back as much as his restraints would allow, pushed into the strokes of his master’s strap. His body slick with sweat and reddened from neck to knees, still he called for more. And more, and more - until with a last well placed snap that bounced off his skin hard enough to almost drown out his moan, the scene found its end and the sub, his reluctant freedom.

Released from his restraints, the sub flowed like water in a stream….his body folding in grace until he was on his knees, head down to touch the floor. He remained so until his Dom pulled him up, hand in hair and smiled with pride and satisfaction at his sub’s response. Surrounded by the cacophonous chaos of the clapping crowd, they had eyes only for each other - locked intimately alone, no matter their audience until with a kiss the moment passed and the show was over.

Even as the two left the stage, Brian could feel Michael softly shaking. He stayed silent for awhile, letting Michael have the time he seemed to need.

Letting his eyes close for a heartbeat or more, Michael tried to process his reaction - his body tingling as if it housed an emotion too strong to contain. It was confusing, even as it spread through him in a rush - heating his blood and quickening his pulse like a secondary high that would be over and done too soon. Michael smiled as Brian squeezed him close, as he felt the soft brush of Brian’s hair against his neck and the weight of the taller man’s head resting for a second on his shoulder.

Neither of them were aware of the picture they presented to the passing crowd, beautiful together in their ease.

Music blaring through the sound system called the club’s inhabitants to the dance floor, signaling the end of the evening’s public exhibition. Dozens of men took to the stage, flesh to flesh - leather loaded and ready to fly. They edged those who stood as voyeurs further back until it was dance or be damned.

Taking the lead, Brian avoided the distraction of staying on the floor - purposefully removing both of them from the escape into familiarity that dancing would prove. Speaking into the smaller man’s ear, he teased, “Mikey likes it. He really, really likes it.“ Feeling Michael’s playful shove at his chest, Brian laughed before adding, “Hope you left room in your pants for the main course because it’ll blow that appetizer out of the water.“ He took Michael’s hand, wading through the masses to the stairway that led to the second level. Before they stepped up, Brian turned as Michael tugged to get his attention.

Turning back, Brian released Michael’s hand. He didn‘t have to ask; he could see Michael‘s face - the hesitation and uncertainty clear even in the low lights of the club. “Second guessing?”

It had to be Michael’s choice. Brian knew that, even as he fought against his own impatience - his need to coerce or seduce to get his way at odds with his concern for Michael. His friend was already feeling lost, after Ben. It made Brian feel protective enough to keep Michael safe, even if it was from him.

They were jostled by others making their way to and from the stairs. Still they stood; Brian and Michael, silent and staring into each other’s eyes, on the cusp of a moment that would change their status quo.

Michael didn’t know what lie above, what plans were filling Brian’s head. He could only see the offer in his eyes; the question in Brian’s offered palm. The call to trust, to protect, for which Michael had only one response.

In faith, Michael took Brian’s hand and followed….

- - - - - - -

To only a select few had invitations been made; the kings of connections, cash and cock. Those who knew the score, played the game or could be enticed to keep the secrets on display for them to view.

Michael had never been inside the room to which Brian led him. He’d never known it was there, though Brian clearly had. Before they had barely cleared the door, he watched as Brian spoke to a man who nodded them through - allowing them to pass into darkness. No more than a few steps down a short corridor and they passed through a draped entrance into their destination.

From darkness to dark, they walked into the room. A room enshrouded by the absence of light, or very nearly as there were only a few wall sconces lit on the far side – little to illuminate, but enough to be of use to the room’s inhabitants. Knowing Michael would be nervous, Brian edged their way inside – his fingers passing lightly over the cloth draped walls to guide his way. He smiled at the touch of Michael’s hands on his waist; enjoying the warmth of Michael’s fingers against his skin as they traveled under his shirt, though he knew it was a touchstone gesture and not meant to call to his blood . . . but it was the end result, nonetheless.

When they’d reached a spot perfect for playing spectators, Brian leaned back against the wall and pulled Michael against his chest, back to front. Being a head taller, it would allow him to keep the closest contact with Michael while still being able to see. Any moment now….

Michael frowned in the near-dark, trying to make out what was all around them. He could tell there were others in the same room; listening for a moment, he could hear them shifting about - but no one talked. No one said a word, which seemed odd since they’d just escaped the din of Babylon’s sound system. Silence seemed out of place; though it served to made him feel self-conscious enough not to voice the questions he had. But as the seconds flew by and still nothing was done or said, Michael squeezed Brian’s arm to get his attention. About to speak, he stopped when with a startling suddenness - the room’s void was split by a light from above.

Red against black, in scarlet the light shown down - only a few feet away from where Brian and Michael stood. It focused on the center of what appeared to be a makeshift stage in the middle of the room. Michael blinked as his eyes tried to adjust, only to feel them open wide at the surprising sight that met his gaze.

The vision registering in the exact moment that Brian broke the silence, murmuring, “Showtime.”

A man lay on his stomach, completely nude with arms spread out in full extension above his head, palms flat on the ground. His legs were spread, allowing the light from above to shine down on a hint of the prize housed between his thighs. So still, he stayed - his only movement was the rise and fall of his back with every breath. He was lying on a cloth spread to cover the stage, black velvet - crushed, shining under the red glow that touched it as warmly as it did the pale perfection of the man’s skin. Framed in contrasts, art in flesh.

Michael’s eyes sampled every curve he could see, black lashes low as he followed up the length of the man’s frame. Lean and smooth, he had a runner’s body - muscled but lacking bulk. Michael couldn’t tell what color the man’s hair was, though it was cropped close to his head - probably either black or brown. He wanted to see the man’s face, but it was turned away.

Just at the point when anticipation was at its height, the question of what would happen next was answered with the first smooth pulse of music filling the room. The sound kept soft, hypnotic with an entrancing flow that ebbed and caressed like a touch to the soul.

An announcement, a welcome signaling another’s entrance to the scene.

Like Adonis realized, the man stepped into view. Tall, chiseled and dark blond - he looked like a statue come to life, exuding power with his long stride and quick command. He stopped at last, parade rest - arms behind his back, eyes forward and legs straight. His feet were far enough apart to straddle the other man’s thighs. Towering over the one who belonged to him, he was to be the scene’s choreographer. He was control.

Brian shivered at the sight of him, echoing the shake he felt in Michael as the smaller man backed closer in reaction to the Dom’s presence. Both men were more than a little affected by the two on stage. Brian wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, letting him feel his touch even as both of their gazes stayed locked straight ahead.

As he lowered his arms to his sides, a surprise came into view - in the Dom’s right hand was a black stick. Not long enough to be a cane at only about three feet in length. It was a beautiful, if ominous piece. Lacquered till it shown, it had silver tips on either end with the addition of what appeared to be matching steel rings on either side.

Michael shifted nervously; he was afraid even at the sight of it - afraid that the man was about to bring it down across the other’s back. It was something he didn’t want to see. He made to turn away, to leave but Brian tightened his arms.

Speaking into Michael’s ear, Brian soothed him. “Easy, Mikey. It’s not what you think. Just watch.”

A loud thump started Michael out of replying, his attention drawn back to the stage where the Dom had whacked the stick on the floor - once, twice and then a third. The sound echoed loudly along with the percussion of the song that filtered through the room, in time with the beat. A pause and then again, the Dom lifted his hand and brought down the stick in three raps against the floor by the sub’s head. A quick pause, and the stick landed once more - this time with one and only one strike. The seventh, the last…. A call to act, an order to give….

One that was answered by the one below who moved quickly up and forward until he was on his knees, fully displayed to the room. Head down - bowed to ritual, the sub remained still as he awaited his Dom’s desire. Nipples hard, skin slick with sweat and his sex….. Beautiful and full, hairless and hard. He was what every man could want to be and the very sight of him had Michael trying to swallow past a suddenly dry mouth.

The Dom reached down, taking his sub’s chin into his grip. He pulled the man’s head back until it rested against his leather covered groin, then he stroked his palm down the line of the man’s throat and chest until he reached a nipple and pulled. Hard. The sub gasped, moaning as he tried not to move - tried to accept the sensations his Dom was giving him.

The stick was brought forward, placed at the sub’s throat - a warning to submit.

A warning to which the sub paid due respect as he exhaled in a loud needful breath; giving himself up with a strength of will as he melted back into the presence of his Dom - malleable to the other’s will. Acknowledging the gift as his due, his controller released his hold on the sub’s chest, hooked the stick once more to his belt and with a quick snap of his fingers, demanded the rest of what was already his.

Brian smiled at the view, watching as the sub raised his hands to the sky and allowed his Dom to cuff him. Black bands with a metal ring at the pulse point of each wrist; not unlike the ones Brian had placed on Michael only a couple hours before. The thought of earlier, of the look that had passed, had Brian giving into impulse as he trailed his fingers down both of Michael’s arms to caress the smooth skin at the top of each leather clad arm. He could feel Michael’s pulse under his hands, feel the way his friend clutched them into fists only to open them again as Brian intertwined their fingers until they were hand in hand.

Raising their arms, Brian hugged Michael to him. The move had them as close as they could be, held tight by Brian’s design. A more private mirror of what was on display on stage; a personalized reflection that lent further fire to the blood of both men as the awareness of similarity began to seep in.

Back onstage, the pace and charge had altered - changed as the Dom began to lay his claim.

Again the harsh grip landed, the Dom’s hand on his sub’s face - only this time he turned the man’s head until his face was pressed against the Dom’s groin. Pressing him in, holding the sub still; the Dom arched and circled his hips against the sub’s cheek, his lips. Fingers tangled in the kneeling man’s hair; he was caught, held, owned - his world was leather and heat, scent and hard flesh hidden from view - hidden from taste.

Whether it was the scene, the knowledge of others - untold numbers of others watching, the sub was unable to reason the cause but when he couldn’t control his panting need for more, the sub desperately reached up - twisting around as he grabbed at his Dom’s hips, mouth opening to lick at the ridge of hardened flesh outlined in black. The weight of the decision hitting his mind a moment after his actions. It was a transgression his Dom would not abide, a break in form that had to be reprimanded.

If control of self was beyond his sub’s ability, then that freedom of control would be removed as an option of choice.

Quick enough to have Michael gasping, the Dom advanced. He pushed his sub down, thrusting him onto his stomach where the Dom pulled the other man’s arms behind his back. Detaching the stick from his belt, the Dom attached the sub’s cuffed wrists - one to each end, immobilizing further attempts to touch. The sub clutched his fists, arching into the black velvet beneath him as he savored the restraint of his position. He moaned as his Dom lifted him forcefully back up onto his knees, pulling him back as the Dom knelt behind him. Encased by strong arms holding him against his Dom’s body, the sub panted with quick needful breaths as he was caught fast in the anticipation of what could come next.

Whatever his Dom chose that to be….

Brian could feel the tension in Michael, the tightness of his body against his own. Michael was shaking with it, with almost the same anticipation as the sub onstage. Locked into the scene, waiting for more. Smiling, Brian nuzzled against Michael’s ear and down his neck - kissing the smooth skin at the base of Michael’s throat, breathing in his scent even as he felt the throb of Michael’s pulse against his lips.

A pulse that jumped when the Dom broke his silence, his voice filling the room - accentuated by the microphone hidden in his mask.

“Whom do you serve?” His words rasped over his sub’s sensitized skin, chorused by the tightening of his arms across the other’s body.

Breathless, but sure, the sub answered, “You, Sir. I serve you.”

Continuing, the Dom demanded, “And what is mine?”

“If it please, Sir. I am.”

The Dom raked his hands down the sub’s body from chest to thighs, until they framed the man’s desire. “It does please me.” He reached up with his left arm, pressing the man against him until the sub was immobile. “However, you still have much to learn.” The Dom closed the distance then, taking the sub’s hard length into his hand with a grip harsh enough to have the sub crying out. “You lack restraint. You lack control. You will give me your control. You will give it to me, even as you fight to lose it.” Stroking his sub’s flesh with a quick jerk, the Dom ordered, “Your control is your gift. Say it.”

Struggling to speak past his lust clouded senses, the sub moaned, “My control is my gift, Sir.”

“Show me.”

Two words, sharp and hard. Followed instantly upon by the Dom as he arched into the sub’s body, driving the other man’s hips up and the sub’s cock into the circle of his hand. Action as instruction, as command.

Enflamed by the allowance, the sub was eager to comply. Keeping his head back, the line of his throat bared to view and to the random touch and taste of his Dom’s mouth - the sub worked himself into the bliss of his Dom’s fist. Arching forward, his body served as an alter to vice as he bowed and thrust towards the source of all his pleasure. He glistened under the scarlet lights, wet with sweat as he continued to fuck himself into and through his Dom’s fingers.

Michael jerked at the touch of a hand on his skin, realizing it was Brian at his back. His friend had a hand under Michael’s shirt, slowly drawing the material up as he trailed his fingers over Michael’s chest. Panting a bit at the impact of what he was watching and how he was feeling all seared through his blood, Michael arched backwards into the line of Brian’s body; his eyes blinking before half closing at the feel of the harden ridge against his ass. The evidence was clear that Brian, like Michael, was riding the wave of lust from the stage.

Twins in need, the sub and Michael moaned as the men at their backs laid a claiming grip at their breasts. A twist, a pull, a roll of nipples in tandem to the scorching press of lips against their necks. The sub whimpered as he jerked under the pressure of his Dom’s teeth as they bit into his shoulder, the pain a welcomed addition to the pleasure he was being allowed. Michael curled into the sharp touch, murmuring Brian’s name even as he was prevented from turning to question the touch - still held tight, subject to Brian’s play. When Brian followed suit with the unfolding plot and bit into Michael’s skin, gently but with intent to mark - Michael caught his breath, clutching at Brian’s hand as their still-entwined fingers curled into a fist.

And then Brian’s voice in his ear, breathless but insistent. “Watch them.” As he spoke, he was moving into the press and presence of Michael’s body, answering Michael’s unconscious movements as they echoed those onstage. Both of them were caught in the moment, Brian more aware of consequence than Michael by the nature of his jaded experience - but still becoming lost in the view, in the way it was affecting Michael and in the way Michael felt against him. So close…. “So close he’s about to lose it, so close he’s about to come. You can almost feel it.” He lowered their clasped hands until the line of Michael’s arm and leather clad wrist were pressed dangerously close to Michael’s groin. An inch more and then….

Michael tried to bite back a cry, the sound ending on a moan as he felt his arm being pressed against his trapped hard-on. Brian held it there, arching into him with circling hips - driving Michael into and against the hard cuff at his wrist. Hot words, “Feel it,” burned through his brain - Brian’s voice calling him to follow. It wasn’t even Brian’s touch against him; it was his own - albeit by Brian’s command, but it was more than Michael could stand in the rush.

Michael’s eyes snapped open, sighted dead ahead as a sharp cry split through the fire of his awareness.

“PLEASE!” The sub’s plea, his desperation clear. He was being held on the edge, his Dom’s grip tight - preventing him from moving, from reaching his end. Struggling against his bound hands, against the imprisoning band of his Dom’s arm holding him immobilized and against the screaming of his own body - he groaned with frustration, until with cry he folded back - his violence spent as he lie against his Dom in submission, awaiting either mercy or the lack of from the man to whom he’d given himself.

Again, the Dom’s voice resonated - the sound tickling over the occupants of the room, almost tangible as it touched them from a distance. “Beg me properly. Beg me true.”

A pause, a moment as the sub tried to think past the torrent of his blood - the chaos of his pounding heart. As he fought to breathe, even as he drowned in his need. “Ahhhhh….” He groaned and jerked as his Dom squeezed tighter, fingers slick but merciless in their control. “Si… Sir, please. Please let me.” Near to tears, he could only manage but a few more words - husky and almost gruff, “If it please you, Sir. Please.”

The clutch of Michael’s fingers was a pain Brian bore in gladness; each word from the sub onstage having caused Michael to shake all the more. Waiting in the scant moment between the question and its answer, Brian pressed still harder down on Michael’s arm, still tighter into the warmth and curves of Michael’s ass - stimulating them both even as they stumbled along the edge. Their pleasure held at the brink, controlled by the Dom’s will as surely as the man controlled his sub’s own.

Distracted from intention, Michael was beyond the ability to care about aftermath and worry. His mind held by one thought, one plea - it screamed the same, ‘Please,’ the sub had whispered. Too much, not enough. He was weak with it, needful in a way that was more primal than he’d known. The want was almost more than he could….

“Do it. Do it now!” Rough, thick and powerful - the words echoed. The Dom’s answer given, his permission gained.

A cry sounded; the sub thrashing forward as he rode the fist that housed him. He dissolved into the bliss of yes, the freedom to know the end that was everything as his body jerked and spilled hot for all to see.

Shocked as it came, hit full on by his own response - Michael shuddered and fell. Legs unable to stand, he collapsed back into Brian - crying aloud in kind to the call from the stage as he too was lost and found in a moment of fire. Singed by the heat of it, he couldn’t see past the force of his climax - white hot and harsh as it came.

Brian caught him before Michael could fall, the urgency to hold and protect delaying his own bringing. Turning them quickly, he leaned his friend against the draped wall and hugged him close as Michael rode the last of it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael buried his face against Brian’s chest and tried not to think around the havoc of his pleasure-charged senses. He wanted to hide away from the knowledge of what had happened. Feeling embarrassed, yet energized. He was shell-shocked and questioning, but wary of the answers that might come. Shivering despite the warmth of Brian’s embrace, Michael tried not to cringe at the sensation of moisture at his groin. And at how he must look now – rumpled, sweaty and hiding.

As Michael shifted, Brian groaned softly – still hard, still wanting. He threaded his fingers through the dark silk of Michael’s hair, pulling Michael’s face up. Fuck, the way Michael looked at him when at last he opened his eyes. Even in the low light of the room, the red spotlight glinted off the darkness of Michael’s eyes as they shown with emotion. Brian saw the fear, the doubt, a little bit of hope and a need so strong it was beautiful.

It was an expression that called to him; one Brian wanted to harbor as his blood begged for more.

He watched as Michael opened his mouth to speak; the beginning of Brian’s name on the air until suddenly Brian stopped Michael’s lips with his own. Full, soft lips parting for him – Michael opening so Brian could take the taste of him on his tongue, feeling him with his mouth until both men were breathless and clutching each other close.

Breaking their kiss, Brian sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled Michael’s hand between them – letting him feel the hard length still trapped within the tight brown leather. He watched, eyes drawn down as Michael unconsciously licked his lips before curling his palm against Brian. At the touch, Brian whispered Michael’s name. They both understood the importance of the moment. It was clear as their gazes locked and they moved in to kiss again. Close, so near to having it all….

Until with a blinding flash, the moment broke as the lights in the room were brought up to full glare – lending Michael his first look at what was around them. At who was around them…. Dozens of men sprawled in every corner; on the floor, on sofas and chairs. They were everywhere, a mass of bodies. And all of them were as caught up in what they’d seen as both Michael and Brian had been. Well on the way to becoming an orgy.

And more than enough to have Michael pulling back from Brian’s touch; enough to have him ready to run from the promise of only a moment before. He would not, could not share with Brian and have it happen like this. It wasn’t a game he was willing to play.

Michael pushed out of Brian’s arms, eyes searching out the exit even as he was jerked back as Brian caught him against his chest. “Brian, I can’t. I….”

Brian silenced him, “Easy, Mikey. Easy.” He hugged him, feeling the man’s need to escape through the nervous energy he was projecting. “It’s okay. We’ll just go down and have a drink.” He hadn’t meant to let things go so far, but he wouldn’t deny how it had affected him – having Michael come apart in his arms was something he’d have imbedded in his brain forever, he knew. But above his own racing pulse and the bulge of his hard-on, Brian wanted one thing more than his own satisfaction. “Stay, Mikey. Just stay….”

Locked into wildly varying emotions, which ran from his deep desire to have more of what they’d shared to his increasing sense of awkwardness at having had all this play out in front of others, Michael found safety in the stubbornness of his anger. He couldn’t help but feel he was being placated by the very man who had caused his sense of turmoil. Michael refused to question if it was pity on Brian’s part; he didn’t want to know the answer if it was. All he could manage in the that moment was a small shake of his head, words failing - and a silent prayer that he would be allowed the space he needed to process it all.

With great reluctance, Brian eased his grip on Michael until their only connection was his hand curled around the leather at his friend’s wrist. Brian trailed a long touch through Michael’s hair and down his neck with his free hand, speaking through his disappointment as he broke contact following two words, “Always, Michael.”

A last look at Brian, a nod, and Michael walked out of the room - the weight of Brian’s eyes on him the entire way.

- - - - - - -

Part Two

- - - - - - -

It should have been so simple. Just a turn of a doorknob and there he’d be…. But as Brian reached to open the door, he met with the immobile resistance that could only mean one thing. Locked.

It was almost ten in the morning. Michael usually opened at 9 o’clock, closing at six. Feeling impatient at the mystery of Michael’s whereabouts, Brian wrapped his knuckles and called out Michael’s name. No response.

Typically, Brian would have assumed Michael was just running an errand or that he had an appointment. But nothing had been typical since last weekend’s visit to Babylon. They hadn’t talked or seen each other at all the day afterwards; not that Brian hadn’t tried to call. He’d stopped trying after the third redirect to voicemail in a six hour period.

If Michael wanted to avoid their confrontation, then so be it. For now. Brian’s sense of reasonableness on sort supply as it usually was anyway, had quickly started to dry up on Monday with Michael as a no show - first at the diner for breakfast, then later that day at the gym. Heading back to the office, any plans Brian may have had to leave early to go to Michael’s store had been derailed by Ryder’s appearance at Brian’s office door. Having one of his biggest clients being courted with aggression by their competition wasn’t something Brian could ignore or wish away.

The next three days were almost a blur. Meetings, brainstorming sessions, working and reworking ad specs until everything was perfect - it was havoc. Brian’s office smelled of barely touched delivery and he’d managed to work through using both of his spare dress shirts; sleeping only a couple hours here and there as he could.

Cynthia had managed to reach Michael at the store, only to have Michael ring off after he explained he had to settle some purchases for a line of customers. He’d said he would call Brian back. She said he’d sounded tired; or rather she’d said that Michael had sounded the way Brian looked . . . worn out.

Michael did call back. Brian missed it because he was on a conference call with his client, trying to talk them down from the ledge - all the while feeling as though he were teetering on one himself. Cynthia directed the call to Brian’s voice mail, but it was well after dark before Brian was free to listen.

“Hi, it’s me.” (Pause) “Cynthia called earlier, but things were busy. Kids and geeks all over. Anyway. Sorry I missed your call. She said it’s been murder on your end, so I guess I can dispel the rumors Em and Ted have been putting out that you’ve left the Pitts for greener pastures; that or you’ve been at one of those celebrity in-and-out plastic surgery clinics.” (Soft, but nervous chuckle.) “Uhmm…. So, I…. I’ll be at mom’s for dinner. If you get off, you could come over. That is if you’re feeling up to facing the dragon.” (Long thoughtful pause) “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’m going at all. She’s still pissed about Ben’s leaving. I’d rather finish cataloging my inventory ‘coz I’ve got an order due in soon.” (Awkward breath) “How about breakfast tomorrow, okay. See you then. Bye.”

The call, the sound of Michael’s voice - all of it told Brian that his friend was still slightly panicked at seeing him. He knew Michael was using the offer of having breakfast to try and buffer embarrassment - public place, Ted and Emmett. It wasn’t a leniency Brian was willing to provide. He was tired, and he was determined to see Michael as soon as he could. All the more reason to show up unannounced once he’d finished up a few last minute details, Brian thought.

It was well past time they talked.

Brian had stopped by the loft, with the purpose of showering and changing his clothes. He was exhausted from the ordeal of the past few days, but he had planned to push on through - find his fifth or sixth wind and go find Michael. But best laid plans dissolved as he hit the shower.

The warmth of the water, the feeling of tension tight muscles giving into the heat – it all warred against Brian’s resolve to avoid sleep. Once the shower was done, he was weary and barely conscious. The few tendrils of thought he could manage were lying to him, a seductive whisper passing through his brain. “A few minutes, an hour. Just close your eyes.” It was the last suggestion that won the war, as Brian lay back on his bed, naked and wet – letting sleep pass over him with speed.

Hours later, the morning sun pierced through the expanse of the loft. It shone through the slats that formed the walls of Brian’s bedroom; he’d left them open the night before – acting as his alarm. Brian flinched back into the wakefulness, cursing as he rolled away from the light, only to see the clock glaring back at him with news that he was missing breakfast at the diner.

Throwing on some jeans once he’d finished his morning clean up routine, Brian jerked on a denim button-up shirt and pulled on his shoes and coat quickly before leaving for the diner. He got there just as Ted and Em were settling up, dirty plates for only two on the table in front of them. The two lovebirds were giddy with each other still, only days into their new relationship. Just watching them make goo-goo eyes at each other was enough to make Brian queasy. “Where’s Michael?”

Em smiled in welcome even as Ted frowned at Brian’s abruptness. He opened his mouth to give Brian a good morning, only to be cut off by Ted, “Why good morning to you too, Brian? Em and I are doing well, and you?” His sarcasm was vibrant and hit at Brian’s impatience.

Looking to Em, blatantly ignoring Ted, Brian repeated, “Michael?”

Em hugged an arm around Ted’s shoulders in affection as he answered, “He didn’t show for breakfast. He’s probably already at the store.”

Brian turned to leave after a quick wave to Em, only to be waylaid in the wake of one Debbie Novotny. She took one look at him, and proceeded to insist he plant his ass in a chair because he WAS going to eat breakfast. Brian’s beginning protest didn’t yield him much ground as she all but hip-butted him into the booth, much to Ted and Em’s amusement. He figured it was just his luck to run into her when she was in mother-hen mode, but from long history he knew to just grit his teeth and dig in to whatever she put in front of him.

Finally escaping before she could shove a second helping of breakfast for champions in front of his face, Brian frowned at his watch as he pulled out into traffic. He managed to find a parking space down the block from Michael’s store.

Locked with a closed sign on the door.

“Fuck.” Brian yanked his cell phone from his pocket, speed-dialing Michael’s in turn. Still with the fucking voicemail. And again with the answering machine at home. Fine. If the man was running an errand, Brian had the time to wait. And if Michael was trying to avoid confrontation, then Brian would bring it right to his door. Or through his door, he thought - privately amused as he pulled his keys out and inserted his infrequently used spare key to Michael’s store.

Shutting the door, Brian turned the lock back into place as the sound of the bells died down. Throwing his coat on the counter, he went to sit on the couch, intending to stay until Michael showed - but he abruptly stopped as he saw what was on the sofa. Or rather, who was on it.

Michael.

Huddled up, lying on his side facing the couch with his back to the room - he was curled into its lumpy surface, asleep. He was dressed in black drawstring pants made of the soft cotton that looked more like pajamas than street wear, but Brian knew they were workout pants; he’d teased Michael more than once about the necessity of making a pit stop at one’s closet before rolling out of bed for the gym. Topping the outfit, Michael wore a red long sleeve tee - complete with turtleneck.

Brian would have thought his friend would be cold in those clothes, except for one thing. The heat was on full blast in the store; it was on high and the longer Brian stood there looking, the hotter he grew. Frowning, Brian sat at the end of the couch in the small section left by Michael’s up-drawn legs. Leaning over, he touched Michael’s forehead lightly to check for fever - something to explain the temperature, Michael’s clothing and why he was sleeping this late at the store of all places.

Michael’s skin was cool and he shifted a bit at the touch, coming closer to consciousness. With a smile, Brian decided to help Michael’s progress to wakefulness along.

Rising through the fog of sleep, Michael shifted as he felt the press of something warm and soft against his cheek. He moved into it, only to draw in a quick breath as his body protested the unwelcome motion. The sensation, the pleasure against his skin mixed with a glaring reminder of why he was asleep - of why he had wanted to chase clarity away and hide. Caught between a grimace and a groan, he turned into the touch - still half asleep, but aware enough now to realize what the press and slide over and against his mouth was.

He was being kissed.

Eyes still closed, mind still foggy - Michael didn’t question who it was. The touch was so familiar, and he only knew who he wanted it to be…. Opening his mouth, he returned the sweet caress - murmuring into the kiss as he opened his eyes, one name passing between them. “Brian, what…. What are you do…”

Cutting off Michael’s quiet question, Brian suppressed a grin as he leaned further down to speak in his friend’s ear. “Ribbit, ribbit.” He pulled back quick enough to catch Michael’s sleep-filled eyes shoot open as his eyebrows raised; his expression one that said Brian was crazy.

Brian laughed, “Just checking to see if you were dreaming of frogs or princes.” He laughed again as Michael frowned and tried ineffectually to shove him back.

Michael’s mood quickly started to plummet as he snapped, “I guess that makes me the toad.” He was feeling insecure enough; any hint of a slight stung with almost the same power as his aching body. Almost, but not as much, Michael winced as he managed to twist up off the sofa and away from Brian. The movement made him feel like an eighty year old man. He bit down to catch the groan that threatened to escape as he slowly walked to the checkout counter.

Brian’s response changed from amusement to concern as he watched Michael’s stilted journey. The question it brought to his mind caused his words to sound deeper, more intimate than he’d initially intended. “More like sleeping beauty.” He followed Michael, standing at his back as he added, “It’s not in my makeup to kiss frogs, Michael. Only princes.” At Michael’s soft, albeit nervous laugh, Brian turned him around until they were chest to chest. “You feeling okay?”

The question was more loaded than Brian knew. Michael cleared his throat, looking at a point just over Brian’s shoulder and not into the taller man’s eyes as he gave a small smile and lied. “I’m fine, had a late night working here. The couch just did a number on me.” He bit his lip, finally looking at Brian as he remembered, “Shit. I slept through breakfast. I’m sorry.”

Looking at his friend, gauging the truth of his explanation - Brian gave a small nod. He admitted, “I almost did too; slept like the dead last night.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against Michael’s - the gesture long established between them, whether it signaled connection, comfort or conspiracy. Today it was conspiracy as Brian grinned, “You missed the Temmett show.”

Michael laughed, albeit nervously - hyper responsive to Brian‘s closeness. He was very much aware, now, of his own awkwardness as the memories of their last meeting came flaring back through his mind. Shifting a bit, he tried to escape the warmth of Brian’s arms for fear of yet again making himself look the fool - only to have Brian press him back against the counter, trapping him with an arm on either side. Michael tried to maintain the façade of oblivion by shaking his head as he chastised, “Don’t tease them too badly, Brian. I’m glad they’re happy. They deserve it.”

The wistful, sad tone of those words from Michael - the emphasis, even subconsciously, on the word “they,” had Brian pulling back just a bit to see his friend. He caught a look that was almost mournfully resolute flash across those dark eyes. Fuck. “And what does Mikey deserve?” His words a push, both serious and seductive.

The question invoked a long standing response in Michael; one he hadn’t showcased in more time than Brian could remember. Arms quickly lifted, hugging his own waist - a self-securing gesture in the wake of insecurity, Michael stood quiet without a response. Maybe for fear of being drawn into a trap of words, maybe from fear of what he may say in return - he chose to say nothing other than, “I have to open the store.”

The silence passed into an awkward pause, until Brian sighed and stepped back. “Okay, so tonight at eight.” Michael looked up in question. Brian smiled, once again the persuader as he added, “Woody’s.” When Michael started to shake his head, mouth opened to say something as an excuse, Brian didn’t give him the option to continue, “There’s a couple of pool cues with our names on them, Mikey. Don’t be late.” He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Michael’s lips before grabbing his coat and leaving.

Perhaps they’d be better suited to get past the questions and doubts if they played on a more public field.

- - - - - - -

There are moments when the line in the sand can become obscured by the temptation of what lies across the known boundaries of a familiar past. Who’s to say then when one has stepped too far on the promise of a better or more bountiful tomorrow?

It was a question both Brian and Michael would be asking themselves and each other.

- - - - - - -

The longer Michael stood in the doorway peering inside through the crowd as he stayed in the shadows, the louder the sound grew in his mind - the ticking of a clock, menacing and weighted. He knew he was late; he knew he was delaying the inevitable by not going inside. But even the thought of taking that step forward felt like two steps back.

Woody’s on any given night was busy, serving as both a pick-up center and community corral. People came there to be themselves with their friends and family, or to be someone else’s someone for the night. A place to find or be found, in whatever form the night required. It had been both to Michael and to Brian, but for Michael and Brian - it was a place to relax and have fun. Together.

But tonight, tonight it was a breeding ground for every insecurity Michael felt inside. He felt so tired; tired of thinking, tired of questioning and tired of his own doubts. Looking now across to where Brian stood, Michael felt torn by the desire to stay and the rush of wanting to run. He watched as men, one after the other, made their way to Brian’s side. He watched as each was turned away in kind.

Seeing that, knowing that Brian was waiting for him…. It was wonderful and it was overwhelming when mixed with the memories of what had happened to him, and between them only days before. So close, they’d been so close. And even though he’d left then, he’d allowed himself a moment to hope.

Hope…. For more with Brian.

It was a luxury Michael had denied himself for years. Something he’d tried to grow past, to dampen down in the wake of other loves. It was dangerous. And now, in the wake of newer truths - he couldn’t help but fear. To doubt….

If he went inside, what would happen? They’d go on as before? Make it another moment to hold inside, but deny as anything but play? Or would they continue to move towards newer things, newer moments shared together?

And what of the questions he was now facing about himself? After standing so close to the flame of something he’d tried to deny inside, after giving in and losing himself in the fire and in Brian’s arms - what was next?

Michael shook his head. Could he merge what he wanted with what he needed most? And was having both together even an option? Was it even a choice that was his to make? He didn’t know. All Michael knew was that he couldn’t cross into that room and have things be passed over, have things become as they’d been.

So he took the path that meant less struggle, less likelihood of loss. He decided to go with the question he felt, albeit ironically, safer finding the answer to - thinking that if he could know himself more fully, that he would be braver to face the what-if’s that hoping was prone to shine a light on.

One last look at the man that represented more than half his life, and then Michael turned away. One foot in front of the other, a step down and then another until he turned down the sidewalk and was gone.

- - - - - - -

“Damn it, Michael.” Brian slapped his cell closed, shoving it into his pocket as he stomped down Liberty Avenue. He was at his patience’s end. Over two fucking hours he’d waited. He’d played a few games of darts, a couple rounds of pool and turned down at least seven blatant offers to suck his cock or to fuck. And Michael didn’t show. He wasn’t answering the phone again; cell, home or store. And Brian would be fucked before he tried to call anyone else of their Liberty brood to ask if they knew where his best friend was.

He was tired of waiting and tired of being the one stretching out his hand, only to end up empty handed. What he wanted most was for Michael to be there with him tonight, not playing chicken in his apartment or elsewhere. But since he didn’t have what he wanted, Brian was hard pressed not to go for the second thing on his list of wants. He hadn’t gotten off with anyone since before their night at the Leather Ball; he’d left shortly after Michael had run - going home to the touch of his own hand, the memories of their experience still fresh even as his disappointment that more hadn’t followed still lingered in the aftermath of his own self-induced pleasure.

All he’d had for days now was work and Michael on the brain till he was pulled taunt like a bowstring about to pop. The tension felt like a living thing, gripping him so he could hardly see past the desire that was merging in his brain with the man who had left him waiting high and dry. Or rather sober and dry, the little shit.

Well, fuck him.

Brian would just have to solve one problem at a time; though he couldn’t resist the thought that it would have been sweeter if only Michael….

Sighing, he tuned his thoughts away from dangerous paths and decided to focus instead on his restlessness. He passed one bar after another, thinking no and not that one. Indecision leading him further down the street than he was usually want to go, Brian stopped to look around. He was at a turnoff from Liberty, a side street that was more alley than anything else. Smiling at memories long untouched, Brian took in what used to be the “Meat Hook.” Leather bar with a bad reputation, or used to be until it was closed and sold to new management over a year back.

“Dominion” shown back through the darkness, red neon splitting through the veil of night. The sign wasn’t large or glaringly obnoxious. But it was the only calling card to the entrance of Pittsburgh’s own answer to the larger leather clubs like those found in New York or LA. It was also the main haven for most of those who spilled into Babylon in chaps and chains on the one night a year that the dance club celebrated the alternative lifestyle of BDSM, i.e. the Leather Ball.

Brian had visited the bar only a handful of times since its change of ownership, on the odd night when he’d wanted a change of spice and scene. When he’d wanted rougher play than was on tap for most at Babylon. Mostly when he wanted to chase away a darker moment in his life by taking control of someone else for awhile.

His early days on Liberty Avenue had met with a visit to the “Meat Hook” only a time or two. At first he’d enjoyed the rush of his own popularity, only later to realize that anyone who looked like him and who was on the younger side of life was seen as anyone’s boy. One too many Daddy Doms in his face had squelched Brian’s visits for several years thereafter. It wasn’t until he was older, more experienced and looked like he could hold his own that he’d entered the placed again later in life.

Still and all, the “Meat Hook” had been seedier than most, becoming a place to avoid unless you were looking for trouble. And though there were nights when it fit the bill, Brian had only allowed himself inside when the need to forget overrode his need for anything else.

Walking inside, Brian quickly paid for entrance from the large bearded hulk at the door before entering the bar. “Dominion” was the complete opposite in style from its predecessor; whereas the former had been nothing but a hole in the wall with a bar, all bare wood and dark shadows - the new décor spoke to money and taste. Old world mixed with new, it shone with the gleam of recessed lights reflected off black leather and chrome.

The space remained small, intimate and enclosed but allowed for more room to move now that the bar had been centered so that it could be approached from all sides. Surface slicked to shine; the bar looked almost like it was made of black onyx framed by a polished silver chrome rail. The walls were covered in padded leather, studded in a large diamond design so that it reminded one of expensive upholstered leather furniture. A pattern drawn through to the matching bar stools and the wall booths that outlined the space for added privacy. The floor was painted black as was the ceiling, but the angled lighting from above and below gave the room a warm presence that beat back the menacing energy of possibility that could have taken over and scared away those new to the art of looking to be caught.

Brian had seen the place busier, but for a Thursday night the crowd was fair. There were enough people there to give the illusion of a crowd, but not enough to make one feel crowded. He leaned against the wall, close to the door and let his eyes wander. Watching each man that passed him, Brian noticed a couple of men that would have done if he’d been willing to make due. But settling for second best wasn’t his style.

So he waited. Waited to see if any of the others would rise to the bar he’d set less than a week before….

The longer he looked without making a choice, the more he doubted any of those who hopefully caught his eye would be able to hold his interest. It was almost like he didn’t want to decide, didn’t want to choose.

What he missed in his frustration was that subconsciously, he’d already chosen.

Bodies milling towards him and back, still Brian stood – a dark look on his face, more unwelcoming than he’d probably intended as he shook off the next couple of offers that were made with a shake of his head. Unreasonably, he was getting increasingly more tense with each man who approached because none of them were what he needed. Large or short, firm or soft, hairy or smooth…. They didn’t hold the right cards in the deck he was dealing for himself that night.

Finally giving in to the call of a full bladder, Brian escaped the warmth of the room to find the bathroom at the back. Unlike Babylon’s cavernous restroom, Dominion had only two stalls - a small space that was clean but hardly room for anything else than answering the call of nature. Usually that made for a quicker in and out - mind out of the gutter please. So it wasn’t long before Brian was re-entering the main room.

Figuring he’d give it a few more minutes, Brian headed to the bar for a drink. His path was abruptly barred when another man stormed past him, heading in the same direction. The guy’s whole body seemed to radiate anger, showcased by his lack of regard for anyone he knocked into on the way. Feeling pissed himself, Brian watched the stranger to see what could have caused the rush.

The guy who had brushed past Brian stopped when he met up with his prey. The two of them were perfect contrasts. The one standing was tall; his large frame filled out with muscles, skin tanned and his hair was a sandy gold. He was an intimidating presence before he’d even opened his mouth to speak. His voice was loud, laced with venom barely held in check. “You didn’t have permission to leave last night, boy.”

The one he was baring down on jerked at the sound of his voice. Small, compact and about half the other man’s size - the “boy,” or rather man in question, reacted jarringly to the surprise of the other’s appearance. It wasn’t a happy hunch in his bowed shoulders; he seemed to sink into himself, innately trying to make himself smaller so he wouldn’t be any closer to his reprimander.

Brian couldn’t make out anything about the smaller man’s appearance since his back was to him. But he could tell instantly that the brute that towered over the guy was getting increasingly more furious with the silent treatment. Wincing himself, Brian continued to play witness along with the rest of the bar to the tense drama unfolding as the large stranger cuffed the one sitting at the bar; a large gripping hand at the back of the frightened man’s neck.

He jerked at the touch, trying to turn away, to escape with a quick dodge to the side but his attempt was stopped as he was grabbed and held against the bar. Trapped within the circle of the taller man’s arms, he tried to push against them but gained no ground.

“You owe me an explanation, boy. Now!”

Brian’s view of the two was obscured by the larger man’s body, but he could see the helpless struggling that continued from the guy who was held fast. It wasn’t his business, and normally he wouldn’t have interfered directly – especially considering the kind of bar they were in where such a scene may be exactly that, a scene being played by mutual consent. But all sense of normal hit the skids when the one who was being manhandled managed to break free with a stomp kick to the other’s foot along with a desperately thrown elbow to his gut, and turned so that Brian saw his face for the first time.

“Michael?”

Attention jerked abruptly from the focus of escape, Michael hesitated too long at the sound of his name and the shock of seeing Brian there before him. His abuser made a grab for him, managing to snag the back of Michael’s shirt as he tried to pull him back so he couldn’t leave.

Rushing forward, Brian caught Michael around the waist and twisted him to the side. The move caused the neck of Michael’s shirt to tear, but it worked to free him so that he was at Brian’s back, with his best friend standing between him and his attacker. When the guy made to come closer, Brian pushed him back with a shove to the man’s chest. Backing both himself and Michael up, Brian snapped, “He doesn’t want to play, so fuck off.”

A snarl on his face and sounding in his voice, the man gave a harsh, “He doesn’t play, my ass.” Leaning in, he snidely continued, “He was playing just fine with my dick up his ass last night. On his knees, my cuffs on his wrists, begging for more. Loving it so much he screamed when I let him come.“

Brian’s gut clenched, anger glinting sharply in his eyes. He felt Michael go still, so perfectly still behind him. Turned to see him frozen, head down looking anywhere but up as his face grew pale. Brian was about to reach out, to touch him when the oaf in front shoved his hand down before he could touch Michael.

“He’s mine till I say otherwise, fucker. Why else do you think he came back?”

The words ‘came back’ echoing in his head, Brian looked past his questions and turned back to the asshole that had no business trying to stand in his way. No business treating Michael as less, when he was and would always be so much more. “He’s with me, now back off.” Feeling his hands curling into fists, Brian widened his stance - bracing himself in case he had to take it to the next level.

The man was advancing, ready to lay in on what he assumed would be an easy target when a loud striking slap sounded through the bar - silencing everyone as the harsh sound echoed. Brian risked only a glance at the bar, afraid to let his eyes or attention shift from the man before him. What he saw was the bartender holding a black lacquered police baton; the sound having been the whack of it hitting the bar rail in warning.

“Enough, Dylan. The pissing contest is over, ease down or I’m calling the cops.” When the man hesitated, letting his anger war against what would have been the practical course, the barman added in a firm voice, “Last warning, man. This is done now, or you’re banned from the bar.”

Not answering back to the threat, Dylan stood his ground. His eyes passed from Brian to Michael, then back. “Prove it.” The words dripped with challenge, still angry.

“Dylan….” The bartender started to break in, but was quickly cut off as Dylan continued.

“If he’s here with him, I’ll stand down. But he’s got to prove it.” Looking at Brian with contempt, Dylan jutted his chin in Michael’s direction. “Go ahead, asshole. Prove to me that he’s yours.”

Pulse already raising, energy racing through his nerves on an adrenaline high, the last words still managed to settle around Brian’s consciousness like a blanket of calm. Because he knew. He knew and Michael was about to find out….

The claim needed to be settled on a debt they’d owed to each other since their teens.

Michael’s voice, shaky and hesitant, sounded from behind him. Just the beginnings of his name, the “Bri…” barely started and Brian turned on him - a hand carding through the hair at Michael’s neck, pulling his face up until they were separated by only the space of an inch and Brian growled, “Not a fucking word.” Eyes dropping from the dark shock of Michael’s own, Brian ghosted a last phrase, “Unless it’s, ‘Please’,” before he took Michael’s mouth with his….

It was a two fold move, the kiss. It was a welcome; it was a claim. Possessive, fierce but mindful of the more it all could lead to; the more that they had touched only in small ways before now. Brian pulled Michael to him, yanking Michael’s hand behind his own body until it was pressed to Michael’s back. Caging him with his hands until there was no space to separate them, and still the kiss continued. Lips parting, Brian’s tongue took the invitation of Michael’s gasp and pushed inside to taste even as he was tasted. The hunger curling through each of them until Michael was moving against him, clutching at Brian’s body with his one free hand.

Air on desperately short supply, Brian pulled back from Michael’s mouth - watching him as they both panted and stared. His leg pressed into the hardened length of Michael against his thigh; Brian circled his own paralleling response against Michael’s body. Breathing hot across the wet bruised fullness of his friend’s mouth, Brian whispered low - the sound whipping through Michael’s scattered senses like a cat of nine, “Say it. Mean it.”

Held in hazel fire, Michael spoke. “Please.” Without thought, it was the only answer Michael had in the rush of his own blood. His eyes widen a moment after he said it, realization hitting him as the weight of meaning it unfurled the worry his nature was prone to shroud his choices in. On the brink of stepping back, of trying to gain the ground he feared he’d lost - Michael was held fast as Brian stood firm.

Stood firm as he pulled Michael’s face closer, as he hovered over the full lips he’d taken but a moment ago. The lack of closure a tease, Brian waited as he let the need - no, the demand for another touch pass through his eyes. Silence hung in the gulf as he waited, seconds falling in the divide between them - until with a knowing look, Brian’s quiet insistence that Michael offer up the kiss they both wanted was met by Michael as he pressed his mouth to Brian’s own.

Brian let Michael lead the kiss, let him reach up into the feel of it for the span of a moment before Brian let loose with a hunger that made Michael stumble and cling in return. A beat, a pulse and then Brian pulled back again to see Michael’s face.

Eyes closed, face flushed and mouth slick; Michael was caught in the aftermath, unmoving with his breath held as if it would all disappear if he tried to do a thing but exist as he was. And then Brian’s voice reached him through the haze, “Breathe, Mikey. Breathe.”

Opening his eyes, Michael did as told, his lungs burning at the sudden rush of air. But his breath threatened to catch again at the look in Brian’s eyes. Hunger with anger to mix. The combination darkened Brian’s eyes until Michael wondered if it was Brian’s need or his own reflecting there. Or the two, together.

Abruptly, their attentions were drawn from each other by the bartender’s call. “Dylan, I’d say that decides it. Now you can leave, or….”

Brian cut through, glancing to the side to see the other’s face - seeing that he looked even angrier than he had before because his anger was now mixed with resentment at seeing something in their show that he’d missed out on or been denied in his time with Michael the night before. “Don’t bother. We’re leaving.”

He directed Michael, who made a quick grab for his coat off the barstool, to the exit with a leading hand, keeping himself at Michael’s back so he could watch the room as they left. So he could keep an eye on Dylan as the man stared them down on the way out. Once outside, Brian took Michael’s hand and practically pulled him down the alley to the main street. He was angry again, angry at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there and angry at the thought of the dangerous choice Michael had made to have left with Dylan in the first place.

It was a short walk back to Liberty, but the longer they remained in silence the more apprehension seemed to cloud Michael’s mind. He tried to remove his hand from Brian’s hold with a nervous jerk, only to have the larger man’s grip tighten till it skirted pain. “Brian, what….”

They were half a block from Woody’s now, just this side of where Brian had parked the Jeep. Close enough to escaping the noise, lights and people surrounding them that Brian didn’t want to stop. He was like a live wire radiating too close to open water, anything could spark the explosion of emotion that threatened to break through his walls.

Turning sharply, he got into Michael’s face. Keeping his voice low, restraining his impulse to yell, Brian warned, “Just shut up, Michael. If you say anything to me right now, I’m going to have to shut you up. Intimately.” His eyes fell from the shock of Michael’s own to stare at his friend’s mouth. “Do you want me to do that here, on the street?”

When Michael shook his head, face lit with an awed hesitance and a look that said more about his own level of arousal than words could had they not been dangerous - Brian leaned into him and spoke against Michael’s ear. “Jeep, loft. In that order. Now.”

He could feel the shiver his words caused in Michael and it only helped to satisfy a small portion of the want that was screaming through his head. Screaming in equal portion with the fury he felt inside as the image of Dylan putting hands on Michael flashed through his brain. Brian stepped to the side, hand out to indicate Michael should move it, as he again said, “Now, Michael.”

It was a moment of grace in a sea of harsh tides that Michael did as he was told….

- - - - - - -

Part 3

- - - - - - -

A blind man would have seen the clues. Hell, he would have heard them echoing through the dark. Brian was pissed and he was taking it out on every inanimate object he touched on their way to his loft. The slam of the Jeep door as he stomped to his building, the whack of the wooden frame hitting the wall as he entered the lobby, the slap of his shoes on the stairs because he was too impatient to wait for the elevator…. All the way to the violent shove of his metal door being thrown open as he went into his home.

And through it all he said nothing, had said nothing the whole way back until the silence was crushing Michael like a suffocating squeeze. But despite his reluctance to know what Brian would say next, Michael was at the point of wanting him to say anything at all. He needed Brian to be the one who broke first. Because he didn’t know what he could say now that wouldn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.

So he followed; followed and said nothing.

He expected to be yelled at; he expected to argue in defense of what he felt was indefensible. What Michael didn’t expect was to find Brian calmer than he’d seen him all night. Or that the first words Brian would say, would be, “Take off your clothes.”

Gobsmacked, Michael stood silent then for a new reason. He was too stunned to even react at first, then he almost laughed thinking Brian was pulling his chain but it was evident with one look at Brian’s face that he was serious. Deadly serious.

Before Michael could say anything in response, Brian yank off his coat and threw it on the floor before he turned his back and walked up into his bedroom. He kicked off his shoes, threw his keys onto the bureau and waited for Michael to follow. When he didn’t, Brian added, “Come here, Michael.”

He watched as Michael moved towards him, until he stopped a few feet away. Brian could practically see the wheels spinning in Michael’s head just by the look on the man’s face; nervous, doubtful, weary but brave enough to face him despite how much easier it would have been to leave. Pushing off from where he was leaning against the wall, Brian circled Michael until he was at his friend’s back. “You’re mine, remember. I claimed you for all to see, for him to see.” When Michael started to turn around, Brian locked his arms around Michael’s body and held him caught. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Pushing Michael’s coat off, Brian raised a hand, running his fingers down the slope of Michael’s neck and under the ruin of the torn collar of Michael’s shirt. Drawing the fabric down, he touched the skin at the base of Michael’s neck, tracing the bruises he‘d seen on Michael at the bar, fingerprinted on his collarbone. The sight of them, the confirmation of what they could mean had Brian seeing red. Voice gruff, he asked, “Did he hurt you?” He meant more than the obvious. He meant….

Michael hugged Brian’s arm against his body, quick to answer, “No. Not like that. He…. It just got…. Got a little intense.” His words were reassuring, but the hushed hesitant phrasing had Brian’s gut clenching. Adding them to his own memory of how Michael had looked that morning, how he’d acted, and Brian came back to what he had wanted from Michael since entering the loft.

Taking Michael’s hand, Brian pulled him into the light of the bathroom. “Show me.”

Blinking against the brightness of surrounding them, Michael shook his head. “Brian, I’m fine. You don’t…. I’ll be alright.” He didn’t even seem to realize that once again he was hugging himself in conflicting contrast with his words. Always the comforter, never the comforted.

His controlled facade beginning to crack, Brian took the matter in hand as he snapped, “Bullshit.” Reaching out, he jerked Michael’s long sleeve shirt up and over his head. A second ticked by, a pause for breath and then the wrecked cotton fell from Brian’s fingers as he fought to process the view.

More bruising than just at the neck…. Michael bowed his head, frozen as Brian’s eyes traveled over him. There was another set of finger marks at his waist on the opposite side from his neck, discolored but fading scrapes over his chest and stomach which hadn’t broken the skin…. But worst of all were the marks at Michael’s wrists. Dark bruising that could only be caused by struggling against medal cuffs; they circled each wrist in glaring contrast to Michael’s pale skin.

Circling around to stand at Michael’s back, Brian cursed loudly enough to make Michael jump. More bruises, this time looking for all the world like Michael had been slammed into something hard…. Or fucked against something very unforgiving. The last thought had Brian clenching his jaw so hard it hurt. They weren’t the worst of the lot - only pressure marks; Michael’s wrists were the worst, but these on top of the rest showcased just how rough he’d been manhandled and how little care had been taken despite the risks.

And then Brian remembered…. That morning at the store, when Michael had struggled to rise up off the couch. He’d been favoring his hip, and then he’d…. “You‘re lying.”

Michael jerked his head up, turning to Brian as he asked, “What?”

“You said you weren’t hurt. That’s bullshit, Michael. I remember this morning, you had to fight to stand up. You fucking winced when you tried to walk away from me. What else did he do to you?”

Advancing on his friend, Brian took the smaller man in his arms, holding him trapped between the sink basin and the heat of his own body. He ran his hands down Michael’s back, keeping the touch soft until it cleared the marks and then he added pressure at Michael’s waist before deliberately letting his hands drop to the curves of Michael’s ass.

Gasping at the blatant touch, at the sensitive skin being manipulated beneath harsh denim and the clutch of Brian’s hand - Michael shivered as he felt himself responding yet again to Brian’s temptation. But combined with his desire was his embarrassment and guilt at having made a bad choice. He tried to duck his head, but Brian caught the move in time to stop it with another sweeping kiss. Soft, gentle, meant to entice - it lasted but a moment and then he released Michael so that they were once again looking into each other’s eyes.

“What did he do?”

Michael stumbled to get the words out, blushing when they managed to sound forth in a whisper. “I asked him to do it. I asked him to….”

A spark of fear, a wave of please-don’t-let-him-say-he-wanted-to-be-hurt and Brian’s anger swept through his response, “You asked him to do this?” Spinning Michael around, he swept his hand down the smaller man’s chest and made Michael look at the reflection of them both in the mirror over the sink.

Michael was already shaking his head, denying it as he gripped the cold marble of the basin under his hands. Using the touch to ground him as he shivered both with his own response to the implication and in the wake of Brian’s demand. “No! I wanted to know what it felt like…. What he was feeling at…. I just wanted it so bad. I…. I didn’t know it would get out of hand. I thought….”

The stuttering stop and start of his words ended as Michael closed his eyes. He took a breath, counted to calm himself and when he thought he could finish without stopping, he kept his eyes shut and continued. “I wanted to feel what that man felt, at the ball. I wanted to feel taken. And instead….” Opening his eyes, he met Brian’s gaze in the mirror. “Instead, I just got a rough fuck.”

“You were in over your fucking head, playing a game you don’t know the rules to with a stranger you couldn’t even trust. Jesus, Michael.” Brian looked like he was fighting the urge to shake Michael in frustration, but he managed just to pull him tighter against himself instead. “What if things had gone worse than they did? He could have….” He had to stop the words because they sent a dread through his gut that made him feel ill. He just had to stop because going further with that thought was unthinkable.

Quick to dampen Brian’s worry, Michael repeated softly, “He didn’t, he didn’t. I’ll be okay.”

The implication to Brian’s way of thinking was that Michael wasn’t okay now. He wanted to know, had to see for himself. It wasn’t a matter of what it would mean, could mean or where it would go - he just did what he had to do.

One hand then two, falling to Michael’s jeans and he was opening the button, pulling at the zip. Michael made to stop him, questioning him with a look which Brian met hard in the glass. Fingers holding the metal tab and Brian continued pulling down as he soothed, as he insisted, “No, stand still. Be still….” When Michael started again to stop him, Brian nuzzled at his friend‘s cheek, speaking low as his lips played across Michael‘s ear, “I have to know. I need to see. Let me, let me.”

Locked in on the sound of Brian’s words, the need behind them and the feel of Brian at his back - Michael couldn’t think to argue anymore. He was too weary to want to, too shattered in thought to ask why not anymore. And like one who had found the faith of giving up, giving in and who was thankful for somewhere to fall - Michael dropped his clutching hands and let it happen.

Brian worked the zipper to its end, then raised his hands to Michael’s hips and pulled. Pulled the jeans and underwear off slim hips, over the curve of Michael’s ass and then down the line of his legs. Following the path of his hands and the dark fabric’s fall, Brian ended up on his knees as he finished removing the jeans and Michael’s shoes. He let his eyes follow his hands, running them both back up the pale line of Michael’s body from ankles to thighs before stopping to rest just below the swell of his behind. Running his eyes over the firm, high cheeks, Brian raised his hands to touch as well as look.

Michael’s breath grew ragged, as he fought not to voice the moan building in his throat. Brian’s hands were warm, the sensation they caused growing more intense the longer it lasted. And then Michael lost the ability to curtail his response as he gasped aloud.

Finding the skin of Michael’s bottom thankfully free of marks or bruises, Brian moved on to more intimate boundaries. It was the last question that had to be answered…. Pressing up, pressing out, Brian pulled Michael’s cheeks apart, exposing him to the chorus of Michael’s own gasping cry.

“Brian. Brian….” Michael clenched his hands into fists, his skin flushed scarlet because it was Brian touching him, looking at him in such a way.

Voice made huskier by the view, Brian shushed Michael, “Shh, Mikey. Lean forward, just a bit. That’s right.”

The return of his nickname, familiar and affectionate, helped Michael to follow Brian’s instructions without over-thinking the awkwardness the position could produce. If it had been a doctor, Michael would have been tense and unsettled - embarrassed. With it being Brian, he was still unsettled - but a thought to the wanton picture he must be presenting to the man at his back had Michael feeling tension of another kind. The blood rushing to his groin was evidence enough that what he felt was more sexual than ashamed. He closed his eyes again, unable to keep focused on anything but the sensation of Brian’s hands and the thought of what they may do next.

Checking for signs of damage, Brian was glad to see there wasn’t any evidence of tearing. Though by the looks of it, Michael had taken a lot. He had to be sore. Sore enough to feel it with every step, so why the hell had he been back at Dominion again the next night…. Brian clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He didn’t realize until Michael grabbed the basin for balance that he had tightened his hold on him in anger. Or some other emotion that built his ire, one tinged in green that he wasn‘t about to admit even to himself.

Whatever the cause, Brian felt the warmth spreading through himself; felt the fire moving further down until his jeans were binding and his skin hot. He was close enough that his breath was raining over Michael’s skin, causing the other man to murmur and shift under Brian’s hands. Looking up the line of Michael’s back, Brian watched as he ran his thumb over the opening to his friend’s body. Watched as Michael sucked in a breath in startled discomfort, but pushed back into the touch anyway with Brian’s name on his lips.

Michael arched into the sensation Brian was teasing him with, knuckles white as he fought not to do anything that would cause Brian to stop. Stopping wasn’t an option anymore. Not with Brian at his back, not with the press and tease of those hands, not with the brush of Brian’s cheek as he ran his face over the smooth skin of Michael’s ass. His entire body was covered in a light sheen of sweat as he finally echoed the word he’d been allowed only an hour before, “Please.”

Sighing as he smiled, face pressed against the warmth of Michael’s body, Brian dropped his hands to rest on the front of Michael’s thighs. Effectively hugging him from behind while still fully clothed on his knees, Brian slowly began running his fingers up Michael’s legs - one fraction of an inch at a time. “Please stop?”

“Don’t….” Michael’s voice failed him in the wake of Brian’s intentional distraction; hands a bare inch from his groin as fingertips drummed against the inner curve of his thighs, a tongue at the small of his back as it traveled from just above the crease of his cheeks up the length of his spine only to stop again as Brian blew hot air over his damp skin. In the breach between pride and desperation, Michael couldn’t hide what he wanted most. “Please, don’t stop.”

Moaning softly at the sound of Michael’s final permission, Brian rose up behind him. He pulled his shirt over his head and pressed against Michael’s back, watching the other man’s eyes turn darker with the contact. When Michael tried to turn around, Brian stopped him with a tisk. “Stay still.” He let his appreciation sound forth as Michael circled back against him, Michael’s hands reaching back to hold Brian‘s hips. While he enjoyed Michael’s initiative, he wasn’t going to let himself be enticed into changing his plans. After all this was his show….and Michael had been a very bad boy. “Eyes forward, Mikey. Hands down.”

Michael wanted to move, to turn and kiss Brian, to touch him - but one look at the man’s face and he stopped trying. He dropped his hands, fingers curling into fists at his sides as he watched Brian leaning in to taste the back of his neck. Lashes fluttering, he inhaled sharply as Brian’s brief wet claim immediately turned into the bite of teeth. “Ahhh…”

Encircling Michael’s small frame with one arm, Brian held him fast as Michael jerked and then sagged at the sign of possession. It wasn’t a pressure meant to harm, but to mark. Brian let up quickly, licking the shallow indentions of his teeth that lie on Michael’s neck. Enjoying the feel of Michael’s shivering in response, and the sound of Michael’s murmured sigh as it echoed through the room.

Running his free hand down the line of Michael’s back, Brian rubbed his palm over the smaller man’s ass. Every pass down the center line saw the teasing dip of his fingers as they tickled over Michael’s crease. And then as Michael bit his lip and moaned, Brian circled the flat of his thumb down between to once again play over Michael’s opening. He wanted inside so badly, wanted to feel the heat of Michael surrounding as he watched Michael’s face while they fucked. But he knew it was too soon after Michael’s carelessness, after the rough play of the night Michael had admitted to….

Still, the sensitive ache of his worn flesh didn’t keep Michael from panting and pleading with his eyes for it. Tone gruff with his own arousal, Brian shook his head while saying, “You can’t take me yet, Mikey. You’re too sore for it.” He smiled as a look of defiance crossed Michael’s face, “Uhn uh… No arguing.” He nipped at Michael’s ear, holding him fast as he reached between them and started undoing his jean.

Belt buckle jiggling, Brian made quick work of yanking it from his jeans. “The only thing you have to do, is what I tell you to do.” He moved back a step, releasing Michael from his captive hold but keeping a hand pressed flat against the mark he’d made on Michael’s neck. Eyes locked in reflection, he demanded, “Yes?”

Caught in the heated web of his own need and Brian’s eyes, Michael had to answer twice because his first attempt failed to carry past the tightness in his throat. “Yes.”

Threading his fingers through Michael’s hair, Brian turned Michael’s head for a kiss. He kept kissing Michael until the man tried to turn in his arms, then Brian released him. Lifting the belt he’d maintained a hold of, Brian looped it quickly around Michael’s arms and pulled. Pulled the circle tight until Michael’s arms were constrained by the leather locked above his elbows, behind his back. It wasn’t meant to cause pain, and it didn’t. It was meant as a method to enforce Brian’s command, and it did.

“oh god…” A whisper, made rough and low, escaped from Michael as he squeezed his eyes closed in response to Brian’s sudden move. He was hovering there, whether it was a second or a moment immeasurable, wading through the feel of being out of his own control. Willing, oh so willing….

Pleased at Michael’s reaction, Brian pulled at the buttons of his jeans, breathing in deeply as the release of his confined erection. He pushed the denim down and stepped out of the jeans. Making a grab for a small bottle of body oil, Brian turned back to Michael. Turned back and pressed completely bare against Michael’s body for the first time….

Pushing, moving his cock along the crease of Michael’s body, Brian groaned. “Perfect.” So warm, so smooth and firm against him. And the expression on Michael’s face, his eyes still closed as Brian continued. The only word Brian could think of to describe it was hunger.

Reaching between them, he opened the bottle and coated his fingers. “Open your eyes. I want you to see me touching you.”

Fighting to do as told as if afraid of waking from a dream, Michael opened heavy-lidded eyes and watched….

Catching Michael across the chest again with his free arm, Brian steadied him as Michael started at the sensation of Brian’s slicked fingers trailing down between the cheeks of his ass. Brian hissed softly as Michael’s hips circled back, trying to push into the glide of the tease; hissed because Michael was rounding against the arch and rise of his hard-on which served to torment Brian in return. Grabbing Michael’s hip, Brian forced him to still as he leaned them both further forward - pushing Michael into a position that had him at an angle to the sink, still able to look into the mirror but vulnerable to Brian’s control. To Brian’s intent….

And then to the man’s actions as Brian thrust against Michael, thrusting between the hot curves of his behind and along the channel between. The oil easing the way, allowing him to move without harming Michael more, Brian gasped at the feel of Michael surrounding him, hot and smooth. It was a step away from the temptation to take all, but also closer than he’d been to knowing what going bare would be with nothing between them. “Oh, fuck. Feel me. Feel me, Michael.”

Michael was panting, breathy moans escaping him as he hung half suspended being pulled back again and again into Brian’s thrusts. He couldn’t move his arms, couldn’t change his position - trapped and loving it as Brian continued fucking himself against him. The burn of friction heat and his own use-worn flesh had Michael trapped on the edge of sense overload; his cock left untouched and screaming at him to be touched. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel Brian at his back as their bodies moved and their eyes remained locked, one with the other.

The smooth rhythm, insisting and fierce, soon altered - soon fell into jaunted pushes and desperate hiccupped slams as they came closer and closer to the moment long suffered by self-denial. It rose in Brian like a crashing storm, making him cry out. Making him reach around to take Michael with him as he captured Michael’s leaking length in his hand and stroked, pulled until the smaller man bucked into his grip. A mix of two voices calling out to each other, and answering that yes they too were there, that it was now and that now was it as the pair crested in a flash of liquid floods, in front and behind.

Leaving them wrecked but found in a moment that drove thought back by the power of their need.

“Oh, yeah. Ohhhh…yeah.” Brian murmured as his body vibrated in the shadow of pleasure; his body wet with sweat and his muscles loose. Burying his face in Michael’s dark hair, he rested over the other’s back – the two of them now bent over the sink in exhaustion. As their breathing eased and hearts slowed to normal, the silence of the room was broken by the noise of laughter. Brian’s chuckling resonating in Michael’s ear, speaking of a man well sated. Well satisfied….

Michael smiled softly, even around the whirl of questions and thoughts that were invading the fading sexual haze of his mind. He’d always cherished the sound of Brian’s laughter, wanting always to give him more cause to break free with it through the years. And now, to hear it after what they’d done….

“Brian….” His voice broke as Brian’s hands started running over his body; thighs, hips, waist and then back. The more he was touched, the more he lost the ability to say, well, anything. And the more it took him out of his head, which for now was something that made him thankful.

Rising, Brian pulled Michael up. He tugged the belt free, tossing it on top of his jeans on the floor. There were no marks to add to the rest, just a pressure line that would fade before morning. The only signs of his possession were the bite on Michael’s neck and the traces of their seed on his skin. Brian circled him to steal a kiss that continued as he rubbed his arms.

Moaning at the mix of sensations - Brian’s kiss and the pinprick feeling of returning blood to his limbs, Michael pressed close and encircled Brian’s waist with a hug. A hold he tightened when Brian drew back from the kiss…. “Not yet, I want to touch you.” The words tumbled out as Michael dropped his eyes again, the flash of doubt obvious as he worried that he would be told they were done or that he had to go. It wasn’t rational, the fear…but it was real.

And the look on Michael’s face was one Brian knew from long experience. Returning the hug, he squeezed him tight then took his hand and headed to the shower. “Then come with me.”

Looking up into Brian’s face, Michael echoed the smile he found there. And let himself be led inside.

- - - - - - -

Later the loft, dark with only the moon shining through the large bank of windows - lending light to the scene, was the backdrop to the old new pair wrapped close together in Brian’s bed. The position wasn’t new. There were countless moments from their past when they’d shared a bed, when they’d been in each other’s arms - whether they started the night out that way, or woke to it come morning’s light.

Tonight saw them sprawled over the bed, Michael half pulled on top of Brian as he slept with an arm around Brian’s waist and a leg pressed between Brian’s thighs. After they’d played a little in the shower, touching, kissing but both feeling languid enough not to rush into a quickie round two, Brian had pulled Michael onto the mattress and let him settle into the position that would suit him best all things considered. When Michael had let his trailing hand reach down to naughtier things, there had been some playful tussling as Brian laced their fingers and pushed the touch away. “Sleep, Mikey. Sleep.” He was amused by the rapidness with which Michael did just that….

Until he remembered why Michael had more of a need for sleep than he did. Not that he’d needed the reminder when the evidence was still spread over Michael’s body, in marked contrast to his pale skin, both in the shower and now even in the shadows of moonlight. The longer he thought about it, the longer sleep eluded him. He kept trying to reason out how it had all spiraled together…

Brian knew in retrospect that anyone Michael usually continued seeing was a) bigger than him, physically imposing and/or b) domineering. He wasn’t a fool; he realized those were both qualities he possessed, but seen in reflection with this newer evidence of Michael’s desires and certain things were becoming more apparent. Like the joy in Michael’s face, in his voice when he told Brian about he and Ben’s wild night of tame bondage. Something he could enjoy due to the safety of his circumstances, with little to no risks. Unlike the uncertainty and danger he’d have faced at Babylon on all the years he’d avoided the Leather Ball.

And unfortunately, very much like the poor choice he’d made of choosing Dylan at Dominion as his pickup.

All of it, swirled in with Michael’s generally submissive nature - his desire always to please those in his life and in his heart…. Mix it with his being a bottom, and the way he’d given in, given up to Brian’s control tonight. Fuck….

Brian didn’t want to think about anyone else touching, taking Michael in that way. Hell, to be honest now…. In any way. He was feeling a sense of possessiveness he’d never allowed in the past with anyone he’d had sex with; but thinking about it, he realized that he’d always been possessive of Michael. Of his time, his affection…. Brian had seen with David how quickly he could get his back up when another man laid claim to Michael. He’d been less obvious about it with Ben, but again it was there - only kept manageable by the fact that the professor had been more accepting of Brian’s time with Michael than David had been.

Brian and Michael.

For so many years they’d been each other’s soft place to fall….

And now, now Brian knew he’d meant the claim he’d staked earlier in the bar. Michael was his. More than ever, his. And he wasn’t giving that up. Despite his own baser nature and the words they’d hear from others, Brian was certain. He could hold him through any doubts, would help him through this newer journey.

And looking along the line of Michael’s body, seeing again the darkness set into his skin - Brian knew just where to start.

- - - - - - -

“You know, Kinney. You’re going to owe me one on this.”

Brian laughed quietly, keeping it low because it was still early yet and he didn’t want to wake Michael. Holding the cell phone between his shoulder and his chin, he managed to tie his shoes as he answered the man on the line. “Hey, I asked your opinion. It’s your idea to set up the consult today.”

“Well as much as it would intrigue me to play fly on the wall for this latest development in your life, I do have my professional ethics to think about. Our last called-in favor is more than reason enough for me not to be able to play shrink for you a second time.”

Shaking his head as he crossed the loft, Brian smiled at the memory. “You could give me advice before we fucked, but now that I’ve had you - you’re pawning me off to a stranger.”

Now it was the other’s turn to laugh, “The flirting was nice, the sex was better. But I’m a respected shrink in this town, Kinney. And I intend to stay that way, even if it is a certain well-adjusted and high-functioning bastard asking the favor.”

Amused at hearing the turned around compliment again after so long, Brian asked, “So who is this guy? And why the rush?”

“His name is Dr. Declan Rai. He’s newer to town than I am, but we’ve known each other for years. Top of our class, with all the appropriate accolades to make even a cynic like you happy. But more to the point, this situation is more in keeping with his expertise than mine.” A pause, then he continued in a serious tone, “I wouldn’t have recommended him unless I knew he was someone you could trust. Someone I thought you could trust with Michael….”

The man on the phone wasn’t new to the area, had been a resident of the Pitts for almost a decade. And like most long time members of the gay community, he was well aware of the friendship between King Kinney and Debbie Novotny’s son, Michael. If you weren’t hearing about Michael from Debbie at Liberty Diner, then you were seeing Michael and Brian at each other’s sides on any given night. He understood the seriousness behind Brian’s confession, and he wasn’t about to take it lightly when it was his business to help.

“As for the rush, he won’t be in his office for the next week on vacation. So if you want your initial consult and his advice, now’s the time to do it.”

Brian sat at his computer desk, looking at the blank screen and thinking. “I don’t want to scare Michael by drowning him in this before he even has a chance to wade into the pool. Are you certain this guy won’t….” Sighing heavily, he continued, “Are you certain he will give us what we need?”

Silence on the other end as the guy processed the “us” and “we” in that question, then he answered truthfully. “Brian. Of anyone locally, Declan is the best at what he does. He’s the one you want guiding you both in this, I promise.”

“Okay, okay. How do you know you can get us in today?”

“He owes me a favor.” When he heard Brian laughing, he tisked back, “Not that kind of favor, you shit. I’ll get you in with him. Let me call his assistant and work it out, then I’ll ring you back with the time.”

“Thanks.” Brian paused, frowning as he added, “As for owing you….”

“I’d say forget it, but after you both meet Declan you’ll owe me bigger than you know.” Another pause, then he put Brian out of his misery, “Don’t worry, Kinney. I’ll just send you a bill. I think it sounds like your favor card just got shredded long past its due.” He didn’t wait for a response, ringing off after having the last word.

Leaving Brian smiling as he looked through the slats of his bedroom walls, murmuring, “Truer words, asshole. Truer words….”

- - - - - - -

Inching toward consciousness through a haze of aching muscles and soreness for the second day, Michael again found himself face to face with hazel eyes. He blinked sleepily, and still there they were. Brian’s eyes and Brian himself, smiling down at Michael as Michael softly smiled in return. They didn’t speak, but more was said than not as they shared the moment with Brian lying on his side as Michael lay curled up in kind.

It wasn’t that there weren’t any doubts or questions running through his mind, Michael found. It was that with Brian there, close by with his expression relaxed and open, the rest could wait.

Enjoying the moment himself, Brian decided to delay his news for a bit. He leaned in and kissed Michael, slow and soft, staying with it until the passion woke and grew. Groaning against Michael’s lips, Brian stepped things up by crawling over Michael’s body and pressing him to the bed. He was fully clothed against Michael’s naked skin, and the feel of him had Michael gasping into their kiss.

Bracing Michael’s arms to the mattress, blocking the smaller man’s movements against him - Brian drew back as Michael tried again to taste him. A heated look on his face, Brian held himself just out of reach as Michael found he couldn’t even struggle free and groaned before dropping into stillness. “Shhhhh…. I know you, Mikey. You like this don’t you?” When Michael would have answered, Brian shook his head no. “I know you like me, but what I mean is you like *this.*” He pressed down again to emphasize his restraining touch, symbolic of his control. “You like this and me, together. Don’t you?”

Almost turning his head away, Michael managed to fight the impulse to hide and answered, “Yes.” His voice was thick and his face was slightly red, but he did answer.

“And you want more, yes?”

“Yes.”

Brian nipped at Michael’s lip, tugging just a bit to show he was serious, then let go to say, “Spell it out for me. What do you want?”

“Mor…. More, of this with you.” Michael’s words were a tumble, barely said when Brian circled down against him, teasing him as they both hardened - only the soft well worn denim of Brian’s jeans and the cotton of his shirt separated them from touching.

Breathing warmly over Michael’s parted mouth, Brian growled softly, “What’s the word, Michael?”

“Please. Bri….” Cut off by the claiming answer of Brian’s kiss, Michael lost himself in the feel of it. Enjoying it with all he was, with only one wish - and that was of course for more of the same.

On the brink of forgetting himself in the moment and the feel of Michael so eager under him, Brian continued to have at him - running the risk of letting all else fall behind. Until he managed to remember the need to stop. “Fuck, we’re going to be late.“ He quickly stood, pulling a startled Michael up from the bed.

“Wha…? Brian?” Dizzy from being yanked up and made to stand, when the instant before they’d been….

“Shit,” Michael caught a look at the bedside clock. It was almost ten in the morning. “I’ve gotta open the store. And you are late for work….”

Brian caught him mid-sentence, holding him to calm the rush. “Mikey. Mikey. I took care of it. Vic’s already at the store; he’ll be there for the day. And officially, I’ve been working from home for two days.” When Michael started to ask something else, Brian pulled him closer. “Now, you’re going to get dressed. We need to get a move on.”

Michael frowned, “Where are we going?”

Brian chuckled, giving Michael’s ass a quick slap before drawing back to leave him standing by the bed. “Places to go, people to see. Now get dressed.” He reached down to grab Michael’s jeans and threw them at him.

“What about…uhm….” Michael flushed, remembering how his shirt had been ruined.

Brian nodded to the bed, indicating the shirt he had already laid out earlier for Michael to wear. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled with a wicked smirk. “You’re working your way through my wardrobe, one shirt at a time.” Seeing that Michael was about to apologize, he stopped him by commenting seriously. “I enjoy dressing you, Mikey. So no arguing, understood?” It was the low, intimate voice he’d used the night before - the one that had Michael caught with almost the first word.

Speechless, Michael could only nod as Brian turned and walked away…. It was only after he’d taken a breath and reached down for the black pull over, that Michael realized he still had no idea where they were going…. And aside from basic curiosity, that if it was with Brian - he really didn’t care.

- - - - - - -

Part 4

- - - - - - -

Turning the ignition off, Brian looked over at Michael. He was gazing out the Jeep window at the three story brownstone they’d stopped in front of with curiosity. Brian grinned, “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”

Michael had managed not to ask Brian anything about where they were going, or why. He’d focused instead on the extraordinary experience of having Brian touch him as he drove; tiny touches both intimate and teasing, meant to connect and distract Michael from over-thinking things the way he usually did. At one point, Brian had even chuckled as Michael had given a sheepish smile because it was one of those moments when it was evident without a word being said between them that Michael was giving in to his worrying nature. Of course, a quick kiss from Brian at the next red light had driven the tendency away rather well….

Eyes shining with affection, with humor, Michael answered. “I didn’t want to sound like my mother.“ When Brian burst out laughing, Michael smiled. “Besides, I figured asking was against the rules.”

Shaking his head, Brian smirked, “A wise ass and a smart-aleck….” He leaned over and brushed a kiss over Michael’s lips, then said warmly, “I’d say keep it up, but given your mood there’s no telling what you’ll say back.” He put a finger over Michael’s lips, brushing the tip softly from side to side as he looked into Michael’s dark eyes. “As for rules, there’s only one for today. Be honest about what you want.”

Michael nodded, a serious look crossing his face. It would have been obvious to say that what he wanted most was Brian, but considering the boundaries they’d been testing or letting fall away, he knew to take Brian’s words as more than their face value.

Taking a deep breath, Brian opened his door and stepped out of the Jeep. He waited for Michael to join him on the stoop of the townhouse, then walked up the stairs with his arm over Michael’s shoulders. Pushing the intercom button with more sense of security than he was really feeling, because yes even Brian Kinney could question the outcome of his own choices - Brian raised his chin and drew Michael closer to his side as the seconds passed.

The electric buzz sounded, followed by a male voice. Breathy as if speaking in a rush, low and accented it came. “Yes, hello. Is that Mr. Kinney?”

Brian answered, “Yeah, sorry we’re late.”

A playful tisking sounded over the system, followed by a laughing, “One slap on the arse for every ten minutes gone, Mr. Kinney - should it ever happen again.” There was a noise in the background, someone talking it seemed, but nothing legible to the two on the stairs until the voice said, “I am not keeping anyone, so hush.” A soft chuckle, then more. “Okay, okay. Holding my tongue, I promise.” Back to them, he said, “Alright, boys. Come on in. I’ll be down in a tick.”

Throwing Michael a quick glance, Brian grinned at the raised brow Michael gave him as the door buzzed open. With a teasing shove - one to the other and back, they followed each after the other over the threshold and inside.

They entered an open room, coat rack to one side with a seating area and a small elegant desk to the right. Hardwood floors, with throw rugs of rich blue that matched the carpeted stairs set directly opposite the doorway, leading up to the higher levels. The room in which they stood was warm looking, but clearly a reception area for a business. A mix of silver accents and light fixtures, and royal blues set against the darkness of the wood and the white of the walls. There were wooden doors on the right, stained richly to match the floors, closed but most probably the main office. On the wall next to the office was a silver plaque that announced it belonged to, “Dr. Declan Rai, Psychiatric Therapist.”

Seeing the sign, Brian was curious as to why there hadn’t been one on the outside of the building. There was nothing to denote the office’s existence from the street. But then he remembered he’d been told that Declan Rai’s client list was all by private recommendation.

“Brian?” Michael’s tone was confused, and Brian turned to look at him as Michael stared at the sign with a fallen expression. The humor totally fled in the wake of what it could mean that Brian had brought him to this place. Now, after all that had passed. It struck Brian that Michael, with his esteem issues and innate doubts, was quickly drawing the wrong conclusions.

“Mikey, no. It’s not what you think.” Brian hugged Michael close, kissing him softly. He didn’t want Michael to think anything was wrong, or that Brian was judging him by being here. When in fact it was the opposite…. “Trust me, okay. This is for both of us.” He would have gone on, would have said more but was interrupted by the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

“Lo, look at you two. Very nice.”

Michael and Brian turned to see the new occupant of the room as he stopped midway between the first and second levels. Leaning over the rail, his arms folded as he bent at the waist to get a better view - the man was smiling with appreciation down at them. Enjoyment shined from his eyes and the curve of his lips. He had brown hair, dark and cut in layers with bangs sweeping his forehead, the ends framing his face and the beginning of his collar. Wearing a bronzed brown shirt, long sleeved with black trousers - he was slim, tan and gorgeous, with a warmth of personality that radiated from him even at a distance.

He rose and stepped down to join them, a hand readily held out to both in turn as he introduced himself, “Ashton. Ashton Forster. The assistant. A pleasure….”

Caught in the firm grip of the man’s hand, Brian nodded as Michael took up the intros with a personable smile that didn’t have to be worked or faked - either for his job or for tricking, as was Brian’s specialty. He watched as Ashton shook Michael’s hand, cupping it in both of his as they finished the shake. And the thought came, looking at them, that both men were alike in that they were welcome personified. Never met a stranger, as some would say.

“You’re English,” Michael seemed delighted, causing Ashton‘s smile to grow. Then embarrassed, he cleared his throat before regrouping, “I’m Michael. Michael Novotny. This is Brian Kinney.” Michael’s voice was strong, the earlier moment’s hesitance gone in the face of meeting Ashton. Gone because he wasn’t going to question Brian in front of a stranger, and gone because meeting Ashton had almost made him forget he’d had a reason to doubt. Maybe it was his easygoing attitude, the openness of his smile. Maybe it was the depth of his blue eyes.

Eyes that crinkled just slightly at the corners as Ashton turned and swept his arm out, “After you both. Dec told me to show you upstairs.” As the three started up, Brian and Michael first with Ashton at their backs, he continued. “Forgive the mess, we’re just off on holiday tomorrow and there’s still so much to do.” The three stopped at the top of the second level, as Ashton opened the door. Looking back just before he turned the knob, Ashton whispered conspiratorially, “There should be a gay packers union, don‘t you think. But then someone would want to call it the ‘Meat Packer’s 101,’ and that would just be a good idea ruined by bad taste.”

Leaving Brian and Michael bursting out with laughter at his back, Ashton opened the door and walked inside. “Dec, they’ve come.”

Again throwing his arm around Michael’s shoulders, Brian led them through the door where they both stopped and looked around with wide eyes. Michael voiced what Brian was too jaded to say, “Wow.”

They were standing in what was obviously a home, designed in loft style with only the back section divided by a half wall that framed off what must be the bedroom and bath. It was all open space - very familiar, and yet not at the same time. Because unlike Brian’s style and minimalism, the design here spoke to comfort, history and home, home, home. Oh, and color, color, color. All of which were deep and rich, like burgundies, cinnamons, hunter greens and sapphire blues. Again, hardwood floors but with plush furniture and pillows all around. The kitchen was stocked full and was done in cherry wood with custom ceramic tile counter tops, and black appliances. The living room area was centered around a curved fireplace of small red bricks done in a star burst design, brown leather sofas and upholstered mismatched chairs placed over a half dozen throws covering the floor. The sum total effect was a mix of gypsy charm with harem chic sensuality. Eccentric, exotic and visually stunning.

Speaking of exotic and visually stunning….

“Wow, wow,” Brian murmured as they were joined by another as Declan Rai stepped out from the bedroom.

Sauntering towards them - because no one on earth could call that walk, well, just a walk - was a man that Brian had not expected. Though what he’d expected, really - he couldn’t say. But the image of a psychiatrist with specialty in dealing with his and Michael’s situation, didn’t fit with Declan Rai. Slender, petite even, but sensual in a way that spoke of grace - he was a surprise.

Declan was wearing dark charcoal gray trousers tailored to a custom fit, topped by a china red silk blend sweater that hugged the line of his shoulders and fell to his hips. Jet black curls swept back from his face; the man’s hair fell thick and full to his shoulders in styled perfection. The only way Brian could think to describe Declan’s face was mischievous pixie, almost delicate features maximized by the sharp intelligence of the man’s dark blue eyes and the amused upturn of his lips.

Stopping in front of the three men, Declan shook Michael’s hand then Brian’s as Ashton introduced them all. “Tall and gorgeous here, is Brian. And this one, all dark and adorable, is his Michael.” Brian chuckled as Michael blushed, while Declan shook his head with affectionate exasperation. Ashton circled around to stand at Declan’s back, grinning as he added, “Gentlemen, meet Dr. Declan Rai.”

Throwing Ashton a look over his shoulder, Declan admonished gently, “Pull it back into the box.” Lilting, and as surprising as the man who spoke, Declan’s voice sounded again. “Ash, please take Michael and Brian’s coats.” The tone spoke to Ashton’s lack of courtesy at not having done so before being reminded. Turning back as Ashton did as told, Declan smiled. “Forgive him, we’re having an informal Friday but that doesn’t mean office decorum should go unobserved with new guests.” One look at Michael’s expression, and his smiled turned into a grin. “Irish to his English; it’s the accent right?”

Blushing still further at being caught out, Michael nodded.

Amused at Michael’s reaction, Brian rubbed the back of the shorter man’s neck playfully as he addressed Declan. “Thank you, Dr. Rai. For agreeing to see us.”

“Declan, please. And it’s not a problem, you can trust.” Indicating they should follow him, he led the two to sit in front of the fire as he took a chair opposite them. “Ash, we’ll be awhile.”

Heading for the door, Ashton called out, “Which is code for haul arse. We ‘vant to be alone.’”

Snorting in response, Declan mused, “His Garbo needs improvement, but as assistants go, he out-cutes the competition.” A beat, and his expression changed to one of calm assurance as the seconds passed with no one saying anything. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Let me explain first, that this isn’t a formal visit. I hope you should both feel more at ease to speak knowing there is no judgment or diagnosis being served up at the end of our talk. This conversation is solely to provide you both with options, choices you may make at a time when things may seem scattered.

“To start, I am a psychiatrist in private practice. My clients are limited in number, because I find concentrating on quality of service rather than quantity is a benefit to my work and their progress. I specialize in dealing with aspects of human sexuality. That’s my professional identity. Privately, I hold a more broadened view than most of society on what is considered the sexual norm. To be blunt, I have been for many years a proponent and player in the BDSM subculture. I am a sexual Dominant, and am considered highly proficient in my field. It affords me a standing in the community that I take pride in; that I value. But it also affords a greater sense of accountability when mixed with my professional concerns.

“To many, this sort of play is considered only a momentary flirtation with kink - something to spice up a Saturday night, let‘s say. To others, it becomes a way of life. Some people feel it to be shameful, while others consider it the greatest form of freedom and self-expression. The views are as differing as those on homosexuality. And in many ways, they parallel.

“It is said that with great power comes great responsibility. It is a truth I live by, both in my work and on the scene. Which is why on occasion, I offer my services as guide to those seeking help in broadening their sexual and emotional growth through experimentation. I’ve seen too many people become lost due to their lack of knowledge, ill-considered choices or by falling victim to the wrong players. This is not the sort of play in which it is wise to let others learn by their mistakes. To use an analogy, it is better to be led into the light rather than left to be dragged through darkness.”

Head rush of words and the blaring roar of no, no, no, no all filled Michael’s mind as Declan talked, until he was stiff and so so still. Finally, it was too much and Michael turned to Brian with angry eyes. “You told him? You told him and now, what?” Brian tried to take his hand, but Michael shoved the touch away as his hurt slammed through him, evident in his voice as he whisper hissed, “All these years, and now - after only once, you’re giving me away? Trying to pass me off, after just… Like I wasn‘t….” He couldn’t even finish, desperate to leave, to run from the pain as fury took over. Michael tried to bolt up from the sofa, only to have Brian grab him but Michael still struggled as he was brought into Brian’s arms, onto the larger man’s lap - held from escaping as Brian tried to break through Michael’s misconstrued ideas.

Rarely in their years as friends, had Brian ever seen Michael so furious. He held on tight as Michael cursed and fought his hold, all the while cradling him into his body so Michael couldn’t hurt either of them. “Mikey! Michael, stop. Listen to me, listen!” Pulling Michael to him, he said, “I’m not passing you off, never. Not with you.” When Michael stopped struggling, Brian pulled his head back with a hand in Michael’s hair and asked, “Where do you belong?” He kissed Michael, soft but firm - a touch they’d shared before. “Remember, Mikey. Where?”

Shaken, breathing hard even as the fight flowed out of him with Brian’s kiss - Michael’s eyes rose and fell from Brian’s eyes to his mouth, and back again. Slowly he raised his hand, now free from Brian’s grasp, and touched his fingers to Brian’s full lips. His voice and fingers shook as he repeated the answer that had been given to him by Brian within the year past, “There, that‘s where.”

Brian nodded, gentling a kiss against their touch and said, “Always.” When Michael darted a glance at their host, then back - with sorry on his lips, Brian shushed him with another kind of kiss. Stealing his breath, even as he breathed patience and strength back in turn. After a moment of melting, he drew back at Michael’s moan - touching foreheads as they both recovered.

“Beautiful.” Declan’s voice broke through the silence, causing both men to turn their eyes his way. The display hadn’t phased him in the slightest; if anything, it had put Declan more at ease as he sat comfortably back in his chair with his legs crossed. He was smiling, looking pleased by what he’d seen. “The two of you together, it’s beautiful.” There was no condescension in his words, only admiration and truth in his voice.

He continued gently, “Michael, you’re not here for me to take you over. I’m here to help you both, together. To guide you both, should we all agree that’s where you want to go.” Looking at Brian, he asked, “What brought you here today? What happened?”

And so Brian, the man who only ever shared his emotions with others reluctantly, started the story. He stuck to the bare facts, leaving unquestioned motivations behind as he explained a little of their history. Stalling out on occasion, he lost the words to continue once or twice only to have Michael take up quickly after as the events of Dominion were told.

“He…. In the bar, he…. He claimed me, to save me from Dylan.” Michael’s voice fell, just as his eyes did. Story over.

But for Brian, that wasn’t the end at all. “I claimed you because I wanted you. I took you to my bed because I wanted you. Because you’re mine, and I should have years ago.” He met Michael’s quickly raised eyes. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Michael flushed, but managed not to drop his eyes under the weight of Brian’s stare. He admitted softly, “I scared myself, too. I’m sorry.”

Declan was leaning forward now, watching their expressions closely, enmeshed in their tale. “How long have the two of you known each other?”

Brian answered, “Since we were fourteen. Best friends, and now….more.”

Arching an eyebrow, Declan mused, “And you’ve never…. Before last night?”

Brian laughed; he couldn’t help it when Michael groaned and hid his face in the curve of Brian’s neck. Clearing his throat, Brian answered with more chagrin than folks would have excepted coming from him. “Close, very close. More than once. But no, not before last night.”

Michael lifted his head, a contemplative frown on his face - like he was debating saying something, and then found the courage to do it. Facing Brian, his expression changed to almost a playful bashfulness that was decidedly cute. “Not that counted, anyway. But….” Eyes dropping to Brian’s mouth, he smiled. “You’ve touched me. You kissed me all the time. Drove me nuts forever.”

Grinning back, Brian amended his former answer. “Best friends, with benefits. And now, full coverage.”

Sitting back in the chair with a deliberate slowness, Declan looked at them - his face thoughtful, but uncompromising as his asked. “And how long have you loved him?” He didn’t bother to signify to whom the question was addressed; both men were equally in his sight. It was a crafted moment, a push to see who of the two it struck the most intimately. To see who would answer first, and how.

Caught off guard by Declan’s question, Michael didn’t even think before he was repeating the mantra they’d both held as sword and shield against the world - for Brian’s sake, at his bequest as he made his way through his life. “Brian doesn’t do love.”

Silence fell like a hammer as Michael realized what he’d said…. And how it didn’t hold as an explanation, because as always when dealing with him and Brian, they were just words. Words that only held the power the listener afforded them.

For Brian, hearing them as he had so often whether from his own mouth or Michael’s, the words had altered - their meaning changed. Too many years of thinking them the best offense, only now to fine they’d been his greatest defense against risk, against loss and against fear. Looking at Michael, knowing that even after what they’d started and what he fully intended to continue - his friend was willing to lend him back his own excuse gave him the strength to speak another reminder. A higher truth….

“The book and verse of love and relationships according to me…. With one exception.” He was looking at Declan, staring him down as he ran a hand up Michael’s neck and through his hair. “Always.“ Again, it was a claim - a stake made in a bigger stand. Feeling Michael shiver from enjoyment of his touch, Brian saw Declan incline his chin - saw in the man’s face that a limit had been acknowledge and agreed to….

Not that it stopped Declan from digging for more.

Soothing a hand down the line of his thigh, Declan switched his focus to Michael. Michael who was sitting still over Brian’s lap with his eyes closed, lost in Brian’s caress. Silently, Declan rose and crossed to stand in front of them. “Michael.” He waited for a moment, watching with a small smile as Michael looked up at him in surprise. “Give me your right hand.” Holding out his own, the gesture similar to an invitation to dance, he waited as Michael complied.

Holding Michael’s hand in his, Declan focused his eyes on it even as he spoke to both men. “Being a good Dominant requires talent; skills developed over time and with experience.” He ran a finger over the back of Michael’s hand. “One key to success is having a strong eye for observation.” With a push, he moved his left hand quickly up Michael’s arm, drawing the sleeve up until he’d exposed the damage to view - the bruising as glaring in firelight as it had been at Brian’s the night before…. Holding Michael’s arm when he tried to pull away, Declan fixed his eyes on him - brown to blue. “This, Michael. Was this about love for you?”

“No!” Michael shook his head, only to be stilled by Brian’s grip.

Declan continued, “Not love, then what need did it serve? Sex?”

Frowning, Michael started to say yes, then realized it was, “no.” The word a whisper….

“Did you get what you wanted? Did you find your answer in what he did?” It was evident in his voice and by the play of Declan’s fingers over his wrist, that it wasn’t Brian that Declan was addressing.

“No, no I didn’t.” Voice still small, a little lost.

Raising his hand again, Declan eased a touch through Michael’s hair until he was cupping Brian’s hand with his own. “And here? There’s a question here. It’s inside you just waiting to be unlocked.” Glancing back and forth with purpose from one to the other, Declan continued. “Beyond love, beyond sex - what is the key? We’re here to discover what it is you want, what it is you need.” Stepping back, he asked simply, “Shall we begin?”

- - - - - - -

“I feel like I’m in high school again, being pop quizzed.” Michael’s nervous words harkened a rousing bout of laughter as Ashton escorted him into the door of the building’s third level. It was spacious, cluttered and extremely well lit from above by a series of sky lights. An artist’s studio. One that most would kill for….

Closing the door behind them, Ashton joined Michael on a sofa in the far corner. He laid the folder he’d been carrying on the cushion between them. “Except with this, you’re at an advantage. Because who would know the answers to the quiz better than the man the quiz is about? It’s not like you can fail when it’s you, you’re discussing.”

Michael gave a small snort, “Says you….” Even he had to laugh at how juvenile it sounded, but he was trying not to think too much on what they were about to do. Looking around, Michael took in the layout of the studio. The main makeup of the space was devoted to sculpting; marbles of various shapes and colors were shelved against one wall, or on the floor depending on size and girth. There were a few works in progress set up on stands and tables all around, each with a drape covering them from Michael’s curious eyes. There were a couple of podiums set up with finished statues, miniatures of larger versions it seemed. The artist obviously worked in more than one medium, considering the wood carving and clay wheel workspaces set up in separate corners of the room. Though again, most of the examples were covered from view. But of all the mediums being used, it was the fourth workspace that stood out from the rest….

Close to where they sat, there was a photography workshop - complete with wall and floor mats, lighting equipments, backdrops stored to one side and a series of cameras neatly housed in a storage cabinet. Some of them looked like antiques, some looked expensive and were of the latest design. And unlike the rest of the room, this space was the neatest and the most orderly of them all. Almost like it belonged to a different person than the others.

“Who’s the artist?” Michael asked.

Smiling, Ashton did a mock bow of his head as he answered, “I sculpt and carve a bit. Dec’s the artist; he and his all seeing eyes.”

Michael shook his head, throwing a glance around the room again - and all the covered works in progress. “A bit?”

Smiling with a gleam in his eye, Ashton inclined his head in agreement. “A bit, yes. But only for a select audience. Private commissions and the like.” Leaning back, one arm resting along the top of the sofa - he relaxed back and tapped the folder still resting between them. “There’s no reason to be nervous, Michael. It’s just a survey, really. Gauging your likes, dislikes - your limits. The only thing you need to do, is answer with what’s in your heart. Tell the truth. Just remember, this is about you, not anyone else’s expectations of you. Agreed?”

Taking a deep breath, Michael agreed. “All right.”

- - - - - - -

“Let’s talk about one of your favorite subjects.”

Brian arched his brow and shot Declan a look that said he was more than aware that they were on the same page. “Let me guess, myself.” It wasn’t a question.

Declan pursed his bottom lip for a moment as he fought not to grin, then replied, “Even better. Sex. And you.” They were both sitting, relaxed - easy with the topic. Not a nerve in sight. “We need to gauge your limits, test your boundaries - your experience.” He let out a laugh at the incredulous look on Brian’s face. “Not that I think you lack experience, or have many more boundaries to be breached. If I hadn’t heard an ear full from Gregory when he called, I would have still known you by your reputation. The name Brian Kinney has graced my ears on occasion since moving to Pittsburgh a couple years back. A king amongst commoners, as it were.”

His eyes reflecting the confidence he was known for, if not a mild case of self-satisfaction - Brian mused, “And why is it that I’ve never heard of you? You don’t strike me as the reclusive type, Declan.”

“We operate in different circles, would be the most succinct response. Though given what I can guess is your taste in entertainment, I’d say it is surprising that we’ve not met before now.”

Chuckling, Brian replied. “Serendipity, then.”

A nod in agreement, Declan said, “As you say. But you seem more like a man who doesn‘t believe in fate.”

“I believe the world is what you make of it.”

“Yes. By being a man who takes control, and rules his own heart.” A beat, and then…. “Until one man slips in and changes the game.”

Silence. Brian sat looking at Declan, no response given. Why say anything when the absence said it all.

- - - - - - -

Michael threw his head back, sighing as he tried to think through the twilight zone he’d found himself in. They’d been talking for almost an hour, and he’d found himself thinking more than once that the whole conversation was like a blend of a dozen nights of tricking gossip shared at Woody’s with his friends, of tentatively whispered fantasies shared with a lover and of the nightmarishly embarrassing sex ed heart to hearts with his Mom as a kid. His libido ebbed and flowed through the dizzying spiral of each kink and quirk discussed till he was bemused, chagrined, excited and flushed - as much from embarrassment as he was from anticipation. “Shit, you must think I’m as vanilla as they come.”

Snorting softly, Ashton assured him, “Hardly, Michael. You’ve got a good grasp of what you like, what you need. And you’re self-aware enough to hold to what’s right for you, to know your limits.” Closing the folder, he brought his leg up onto the sofa so he could sit facing Michael. “You don’t have to go to extremes to enjoy the experience; and pain isn’t necessary to find pleasure in the scene. Besides once the boundaries are set, the sky’s the limit on where else you and your partner can go.”

Michael looked at him, taking in Ashton’s gentle smile and the merriment dancing in his eyes. “Voice of experience?”

His smile turning quickly to a grin, Ashton leaned forward - deliberately invading Michael’s body space, only stopping when he was an inch from his face. A whisper, an answer - he murmured in a tease. “That would be telling.” A pause, a moment passing long - and he rose with a laugh, giving Michael his back as he walked away, leaving the other man inhaling an unsteady breath as Michael watched him leave.

- - - - - - -

“Yeah, I’ve played. Comes with the territory, added an edge to the odd night now and again. But it’s never been concentrated, never been long term, never had more than the immediate purpose of getting off.”

“And now with Michael, you feel what? Is it only obligation? Or is it because no one else is allowed to know him more intimately than you?” At Brian’s frown, Declan added, “Submission is deeply intimate, not only in a physical respect but in an emotional one as well. For many it is the closest a person can come to knowing themselves, and in offering that part of themselves to another - they give one of the greatest of gifts.” He waited for moment, letting his words have their full effect before continuing, “Answer the question, Brian. What is it you feel?”

Turning his eyes to the fire, Brian didn’t answer for a long time. But then he found the words. “I’ve always told him that no one is too good for him, that he is better than anyone.” He released a bitter laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Even then I didn’t want anyone getting too close, having him too long. It makes me a bastard, but he has always been and will always be mine.”

Declan’s voice reached him above the crack and hiss of the flames, “I think there’s more to it, more than keeping what was yours. Somewhere in your years together, you decided that it was you that wasn’t good enough for Michael. Afraid to hurt him, afraid to let him go.”

Brian shot a look Declan’s way, anger lacing his words for the first time since he’d met the man. “There is no letting go, he’s here because he wants to be here. And whatever my motives, I have hurt him. Again and again.”

“He’s still with you despite the pain, Brian. And because, past your looks, money and success, he sees you as more than you see yourself.” Pausing, he concluded, “I think there is a part of you that sees him as the measure of your worth.”

Suddenly defensive, Brian snapped, “What’s your angle in all this? You get off on it? The questions, the analyzing, playing with people’s heads and bodies….”

Declan’s calm exterior completely crumbled under Brian’s attempt at deflection. He burst out laughing, giggle-high and gorgeous as he threaded his hand through his hair as it fell in his face. His recovery was quick, granted, but still it was a breaking down of his layers - a glimpse of who he was below the analyst and dom. Straightening up, Declan cleared his throat. “You mean beyond the accomplishment and the reward of helping others. I enjoy it, of course. I’m good at it. And remember, Brian. I’m a dominant; control is what I do.”

Settling back from his anger, Brian asked, “But not who you are?”

Answering with seriousness, Declan said, “I am many things. As are you. But what I am to you today is an opportunity. I can help you, give you the knowledge you need to accept and care for the gift Michael is wanting to share. As for what is my angle, there is none. I’m an analyst, and I’m a scene consultant. It’s a responsibility I take seriously. Having Gregory recommend you was the first step in the door. As a friend, his judgment is something I value. Meeting you both was enough to intrigue me, to convince me to say yes. But the bonus, now that lies in how I believe you’ll progress together. Seeing you both, watching him unfold to your will - it will be a pleasure to witness. Should it be agreed that this is what you both want.”

Back to staring into the fire, “It’s what he says he wants, what he needs.” He had a sudden image of Michael from the night before, a memory of how it had felt to have him giving in, giving over to Brian’s control. To his desires….. “It’s what I want, too.”

- - - - - - -

“Michael.” Lost in thought, Michael didn’t hear his name being called at first. “Michael.” Turning at the sound, Michael smiled bashfully, a sorry already on his lips until Ashton waved it away as unnecessary.

“No worries. Just wanted to tell you I was going to take this down to Dec.” He had Michael’s file in his hand. “Why don’t you stay for a bit; look around if you like. I’ll check to see if they’re finished, then come get you.” At Michael’s nod, Ashton left the room.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Michael rose from the sofa and arched his back. His muscles still ached and the stretch helped ease some of the tension he’d been feeling, physically at least. Emotionally, the tension remained. He was titillated, intrigued - a part of him not wanting to go, even as another part of him just wanted to be with Brian alone. Alone and naked, in bed. But he told himself that patience had its own rewards…. The night before had been full proof of that.

He determined to think on other things as he walked around the room. Skimming a touch over each cloth covered work he passed, Michael smiled as he let chance decide which object to uncover as he went. A game of “Mighty Moe” well played as he lifted the drape off one of the statues resting on a table nearby. “Wow….”

Two hands held bound together, cuffed at the wrists - it was a figure study. The hands rose up, balanced on a wood stand as they lifted up with fingers slightly spread and curled inward like someone holding up their arms in reverence. Lifelike and beautiful, the sculpture held a natural grace that was perfect down to the last detail. Even the hint of veins under the skin shown through. And the cuffs; they were intricate, appearing to bind, to press into the flesh of the wrists they imprisoned.

Glancing down at his hands, Michael pulled his sleeves up and looked at the bruises. Pathetic, the word echoing in his brain. But then he closed his eyes at the almost tangible feel of remembrance…. Brian’s eyes, his touch - the feel of his long fingers and strong hands as they fastened the leather around his wrists. Michael bit his lip and hugged his arms around his waist in lieu of having Brian there to hold.

“fuck….” A murmur, a sigh and Michael opened his eyes. He crossed to the center of the room where a platform had been assembled to hold the latest work in progress. It was a large piece, judging by the size of the tarp. Stepping up to the platform, Michael stopped as the wood pressed into his shins - the height set over a foot off the floor. He pulled the cover off, letting the fabric fall from fingers that suddenly forgot how to grasp anything as they fell open in his awe.

A man, kneeling with his arms behind his back. A slave, naked and hard. His head thrown back, the expression caught - held in that one instant of absolute subjugation and joy. Eyes half closed, mouth partially opened as if gasping in wonder at his own capacity for pleasure - he was…. It was…. Michael didn’t have the words. His eyes traveled over the piece, taking in the four foot tall work that was partially unfinished. The man, his body had been fully realized from head to mid thigh but the rest of it - his legs and feet were as yet undone. It looked as if he were rising from the marble, freedom found in his own enslavement. The sculpted man’s status made plain by the collar at his throat, and the chain carved to flow down his frame as it caressed his chest and fell over the outer curve of one partially completed thigh.

Michael stepped around the platform, mouth going dry as he found what he’d expected. The man’s hands tied behind him, clutched tightly against the slope of his inner back above the beginning crease of his behind. Muscles taut, pulled back and held as the slave accepted all with rapture shining from his face.

Circling back, Michael stood before the work and swallowed past the sudden dryness of his throat. His eyes caught by the man’s face, caught in the need and thankfulness that both shown from inanimate stone. Unable to help himself, Michael lifted his hands to touch - feeling the roughness of the marble, still unbuffed and coarse beneath his fingers. Unaware that even as he touched, he was shaking. His own response rising in him like a wave, he pressed his hands flat - one over the slave’s cheek, one over the chain resting against the man’s chest.

Locked, lost in it - Michael jumped in surprise as hands settled on his shoulders, the heat of someone at his back. Looking away, then up, he saw that it was Brian with Declan at his side.

“Ash is quite the talent, yes?” Declan said fondly.

Looking back to the sculpted slave, Michael gave a small nod. A soft, “yes.” Slowly, with a viable reluctance, Michael removed his hands from its cool surface. He reached up to cup Brian’s hands with his own. Unaware that he was still exposed, his wrists uncovered to view.

Unaware at how even the sight of them had Brian’s face darkening like a storm….

Throwing Declan a look, Brian saw by his expression that the other man understood. Now he just needed to make Michael understand. No one was to touch Michael, to mark him, like that ever again.

Brian nuzzled the back of Michael’s neck, burying his face against the mark he’d given him, finding the barest of impressions still there as the edges were beginning to fade. He could feel Michael’s breathing catch, and it made him smile. It always made him smile. Raising his face for a moment, he saw Declan’s nod and knew instinctively that he was right. It was the perfect time to go further; to finish something he’d asked Declan’s favor to do.

Speaking into Michael’s ear, Brian began. “Picture yourself, Mikey. On your knees for me. Hard for me. Bound for me. Aching for it, for me. For what I can do to you, for you. Open and ready to do whatever I say.” He tightened his grip as he swept an arm across Michael’s chest, holding him from shoulder to shoulder. “See his face; it’s yours. See his naked body, it’s yours. See his dick, hard as stone; it’s yours.” He dropped his free hand to Michael’s groin, cupping the resulting hard-on and massaging it until Michael moaned. “But it’s not yours, is it, Mikey? It’s mine. Your body, your heart, your soul. Mine.” The edge in his voice, the rasp of its sound was evidence of the power Brian’s words had over even his own body and mind. “Say it. Say the words.”

Michael cried out as Brian’s hand continued to drive him crazy, as the words swept over him, sounding through him with the clarity of a known truth. “Yours, ahh. I’m yours.”

Passing his tongue over the curve of Michael’s ear, trailing it down the line of his throat, Brian ordered softly, “Take off your clothes.”

Eyes snapping wide, Michael remembered Declan’s presence and looked over quickly. “Brian….” He wasn’t allowed to get any further.

“I’m not giving you a choice, Mikey. I want to see you naked. Showing me, showing him that you belong to me.” Ending his orders with a last quick squeeze at Michael’s cock and nip at the back of the shorter man’s neck, and Brian pulled back to watch. “Do it. Do it, for me….”

Conscious of the eyes watching him, both those familiar and unknown, Michael closed his eyes as he lifted his shirt. Brian’s shirt…. Slowly drawing it over his head, he let it drop and reached for his jeans with unsteady fingers. He fought not to gasp as his fingers brushed alone the swell of his flesh beneath the zipper; winning against anxiety as he drew the metal teeth down until the sides parted and he was free. A breath of courage and Michael opened his eyes, the slave’s face all that he could see as he pushed the denim down to the floor, then off his feet along with his shoes. Standing there, bared to the room under the rays of sun from the skyline above….

“Good, very good.“ Brian ran his hand down the line of Michael’s back, letting his fingers swept over the smooth soft skin with appreciation and full due. His, his to touch, his to know. To take. It was his first instinct now, to have Michael, to complete the final step. But again he saw the evidence of another’s touch, and it reminded him that his needs were secondary in the here and now. Despite the control to do what he wanted, it was too soon.

Turning to Declan, Brian spoke to sooth Michael’s nerves. “Still. Be still. He‘s going to look at you.”

As Brian stepped back, Declan moved closer. His slender clothed form next to Michael’s nakedness as his eyes traveled. He didn’t attempt to touch. It had been agreed before hand that there would be no touching. Instead, he walked around him and looked - his eyes taking in each fading mark, some darker than others. Shoulder, waist, wrists and back. Most nothing to worry over, a minor nuisance. But for the ones above each hand. They weren’t long term damage; they’d fade with time. But it was the significance of them that had the potential to last.

“What safe word did you choose, Michael?”

Looking up from where he’d dropped his eyes, Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The man from Dominion. Did he discuss safe-wording?” When Michael shook his head, Declan continued, “It’s the first principle of playing a scene. Setting limits, agreeing on a safe-word - they are fundamental necessities, Michael. To play without them, to give up their protection is risking more than the game is worth.”

Michael didn’t look away, though he wanted to, he couldn’t turn from the other man’s eyes. Somehow the expression there gave him comfort enough not to listen to the voice in his head; for the moment leaving “pathetic” behind. Not that such a thought could hold anyway as he felt Brian again at his back, pressing close as he began running his hands up Michael’s arms, then down his sides to hold him by his hips. Just the feel of him so close had Michael hardening again; a condition that increased the flush of his skin as he remained under Declan’s watchful gaze.

Declan nodded in appreciation, eyes sparking with a darker blue as he enjoyed the view. “He’s hungry for you, Brian.” Meeting Brian’s intense look with a mild dip of his head, he then looked at Michael through the veil of his lashes. “Have you fucked him, yet?”

Keeping a steady eye on Declan, even as he paid full notice of Michael’s quickening breath, Brian stroked a hand back over the curve of Michael’s ass. His touch meant to ground, even as it maddened Michael by adding to his arousal. “He was too sore. But soon. Very soon.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered as Brian ran his fingers between his cheeks. He was caught between them, embarrassed by being naked, by being discussed like he wasn’t there - but hotter than he’d thought possible at being on display, being touched by Brian in front of Declan because it was Brian’s will. He didn’t want the other man to touch him, but being under Brian’s hands - the object of their talk…. Damn.

“Brian, I…”

“Shhhh, Michael.” Declan was quick to place two fingers over Michael’s lips, not even making contact - just there to warn, a fraction from closing the distance. “If you begin playing scenes for real, there is no speaking without permission. Your Dom will set the pace, and tell you what to do. Understand?”

Nodding his head, Michael bit his lip to keep from saying yes aloud. Even as Declan stepped back, Michael willed himself not to ask for the more he craved when Brian continued to feel him, hands moving everywhere. Throat, nipples, thighs and even his balls; he was road mapped until he was moving back against Brian’s groin and forward into every touch - Declan’s presence be damned.

“It takes a strength of will to obey. Submission isn’t for the weak, no matter what others may assume.” Moving to the side, he stood as Brian worked Michael’s body. “Michael’s passion is his gift. His faith in you, his trust yours to hold if you accept. Do you accept, Brian?”

Voice thick with desire, Brian took Michael’s length in hand and answered, “Yes.” Stroking him, circling against Michael’s behind as he drove the smaller man into his hand - Brian panted against Michael’s ear, echoing Michael’s whimper with a faint growl.

Declan pushed further, “Then there is a question you must know the answer to; ask him. Ask him before you bring him.”

Pulling Michael’s head back, Brian spoke against the side of his mouth - so close to a kiss, but not. “It’s rising in you, Mikey. My hand’s wet with it you’re so hard, so close.” Circling down, jerking up quick and fast, he was driving Michael to the brink - holding him there as Michael cried out. “I want you to choose, Michael. Empty your mind, and tell me. What is your safe word? Tell me, tell me now.”

A shout, an answer burst forth from Michael as his reason fell and drowned in the storm of coming. Violent, and hard it came upon him - a rush, a jerk and he was blind to all but the roar in his ears and the sensation of satiation as it took over his world.

He came back to Brian’s soft affectionate chuckle, the sound sending tingles down his back. And the words, “Good choice, Mikey. Perfect.” For a moment, Michael didn’t even remember what Brian was talking about until he heard Declan speaking from the left.

“Zephyr. A calming western wind….” Declan smiled. “It is a good choice.” He looked at them, at Michael held in Brian’s embrace - shaken but secured. “Zephyr in the arms of his Rage.” When they both turned their eyes to him in surprise, Declan let out a laugh. “Ash tells me no member of the gay community should be lacking in knowledge of local pop culture. Which is his way of describing town gossip.“ He paused for effect then added with a grin, “That, and you couldn’t walk two feet down Liberty without seeing the posters on every wall and in every window. It’s a good likeness, by the way. Of you both.”

Brian shook his head, still smiling as Declan retrieved a hand towel from the pottery table. His amusement continued as Michael turned his head, hiding his face as the reality of his appearance hit him. Brian accepted the towel, brushing it over Michael’s stomach to clean up the mess he’d helped cause - loving it as Michael groaned and blushed even darker. As he turned into Brian’s hug once the towel was dropped.

“Take your time. I’m going down for a bit. Ash should have lunch ready soon, so you‘re both welcome to join us.” Declan gave Brian a last look, a nod and then he left.

Brian didn’t speak for the longest time, letting Michael process until he broke the silence.

Speaking into the curve of Brian’s throat, Michael murmured, “It feels like I’m standing with you on a ledge for the second time.”

Brian pulled back, framing Michael‘s face with his hands as he responded serious and low. “You trusted me then, not to let you fall.”

Deep, dark - Michael‘s eyes held him. Softly said, “I still do.”

Brian replied with a smile. “I do, too.” He swept Michael’s answering grin away with a kiss, fierce and wet. One that called to his blood, and brought his brain functions back down to the ache in his cock - hard and still trapped inside his jeans.

A condition that Michael was fully aware of as he stole a hand between them and pressed his hand against Brian’s groin. Rocking his palm against Brian’s bulge as he worked his fingers against the outline of his balls, Michael swallowed Brian’s groan until the taller man pulled out of the kiss with a hiss.

“Bad, bad boy.” The delighted amusement belayed the admonishment of Brian‘s words.

Michael looked down, and deliberately pulled Brian‘s jeans open - the well worn buttons popping free with minimal effort. Raising his eyes again, Michael watched Brian‘s face as he teased his fingers through the dark hair he‘d revealed - avoiding the length still hidden by the denim. “I want to touch you.”

Humming in appreciation, both of the tease and of the added edge of Michael’s playful demands, Brian inhaled slowly and grinned back. “Little something to take the edge off?” Dropping his hands to Michael’s ass, he added, “Till I can get this back in my bed.” When Michael’s eyes shut - Brian’s name a whisper, a plea, Brian murmured his consent. “Go ahead, Mikey. Pop it out. Make me come.”

The feel, the heat of Brian in his hand as he watched Brian’s eyes flutter and close. Each stroke, each soft grunt as he worked him faster and faster…. Michael watched, watched in awe that it was his touch doing this, that it was him causing Brian to gasp out, getting closer and closer. That it was his voice tipping Brian over as he harkened to one of his dirtier fantasies and murmured hotly, “On me. Come on me, all over me. Paint me with it. N… Now.”

“Fuck, fuck!” The words cracking, Brian’s shout forced out of him as surely as his seed as it burst forth and coated Michael’s skin. Jerking once, twice and then again into the warmth of Michael’s small hand - Brian’s body expanded and snapped back like a rubber band, the pressure gone in an instant of liquid fire.

Sucking in a breath, Brian opened his eyes and laughed. Laughed and rubbed his forehead against Michael’s, “I love a dirty mind.” He groaned weakly, watching as Michael lifted his wet hand and cleaned it with his tongue. Snatching up the towel, he gave it to Michael to wipe himself down as Brian fastened up his jeans.

Michael couldn’t stop smiling, feeling Brian’s eyes on him as he pulled on his clothes and then bent to put on his shoes. He liked being Brian’s object of desire; the one that put the look of sex in his eyes. It made him feel empowered in a way he’d only guessed at in his dreams.

Brian held out his hand, taking Michael’s in turn. A serious look on his face, he asked, “You okay with all this?” At Michael’s nod, Brian gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go let Declan continue playing Doctor Dom, have a little lunch and then…. Go home for a little dessert.”

Following Brian down the stairs, Michael knew it was going to be the longest meal in history.

- - - - - - -

Part 5

- - - - - - -

“No, no, no, no, no. Do not get up.” Ashton admonished their guests as he made quick work of cleaning off the island counter, removing dishes to the sink nearby. “This is my floor show. Cook’s prerogative.” He threw a look over his shoulder, “Besides, it’s Dec’s turn to talk the talk and do the walk.”

At Michael’s questioning glance, Declan laughed. “It’s my go round for washing the dishes.” Shooting Ash a fond, but pointed look, he teased, “He’s bossy, is this one.” Ashton just gave a small smile in return.

Brian watched the interplay, putting together a thought, and then as was his nature - he asked out right. “You two, you’re….” Together was his next word, only it didn’t sound as Ashton released a snorting laugh and gave a fractional bow.

“Oui. Weeeee‘re…..“

Declan cut the other man’s playful reply off, saying, “Not the issue today.” Tone serious, he looked at the two across from them. “The two of you, however, are….”

Directing his question to Michael, Declan asked, “Do you wish to continue exploring your submission? To give Brian the gift of your control, your choice, your will?”

Michael’s answer was a quiet, “yes.”

Then to Brian, Declan asked, “Do you wish to accept the gift of Michael’s submission; to hold the responsibility in your hands and heart?”

Stronger, with a certainty that sounded clear, Brian agreed. “Yes.”

Nodding, Declan appeared pleased. “Then it is witnessed. Ash?”

His expression more solemn than seen that morning, as if he held the importance of the moment to be above levity - Ashton echoed, “It is witnessed.”

Rising from his chair, Declan held out his hand - shaking Brian’s and then Michael’s in turn. “I’ll review your profiles this afternoon. The comparison of your answers, likes, dislikes, experience and the rest will help me make a recommendation on the form of training from which you would both best benefit. I should be able to give you my thoughts later today?”

Brian pulled out a card, “My cell number’s on the back.”

Ashton moved towards the door, ready to escort them down. “It was good to talk with you, Michael.” He gave Michael a wink, “I’d say good luck, but looking at this one,” he nodded towards Brian, “I’d say you’ve already bankrupted good fortune’s reserves.”

Michael laughed, while Brian shook his head with a wicked grin. Following Ash’s departing back, Brian turned to Declan once Michael had cleared the door - nothing was said, but the look that passed spoke to their like minds. Each seemingly aware that it was the two men who’d just left that made them each the richest of men.

- - - - - - -

The trip home was waylaid by a call from Brian’s office. After an appropriate length of time bitching at Cynthia for the inconvenience, Brian shot Michael an exasperated glance that had the other man laughing as he agreed to come in. “This is a one shot deal today, Cyn. You do what you have to, to get me in and out as quick as possible.” The Jeep echoed with Brian’s own laughter as he listened to his assistant’s snide return remark. “You’re a regular Dr. Ruth. I knew there was a reason I keep putting up with you.” His grin widened as he heard her reply. “Feeling’s mutual. Be there in a few.”

Shaking his head, Michael forced a smiled. “You can drop me off at the store. I’ll just get a ride home with Vic when we close.”

“I could, but I’m not going to. You’re coming with me. I want you close enough to feel me watching you.” He turned to Michael, “You’re not the only one who likes to look, Mikey.” When Michael took a deep breath and dropped his gaze, Brian leaned over and pulled Michael’s face up. “My eyes have owned you for years.” A whisper wrapped up in a kiss, he added, “But no more than you’ve owned me.”

The words were enough, as Michael’s need for more than passing breath led him to take Brian’s smiling lips in a kiss.

- - - - - - -

“Let me. Let me touch you, please.” Hours later, the sun’s setting rays shining through the bank of windows in Brian’s loft - found them again melded together, kissing as Michael pushed Brian back, naked onto the bed. The aggression of his actions belaying the permission for which he asked; his voice urgent with the need to be the one allowed to touch and feel Brian, to have him bare beneath his hands.

Michael had been half-mad for it, for this as every minute had passed during the afternoon. Over two hours of playing mute witness to the chaos that was Brian on a professional tear; over two hours of having Brian turn his eyes to Michael again and again - not saying a word, but looking at him with a menacing hunger. Glances that were usually quick, and sudden - Brian able to quickly switch back to the task he was working on, even as Michael clenched his hands in the aftermath of his physical reaction to an intangible punch to the gut, or rather, stroke to the groin.

He’d been hard and aching by the time they’d escaped back to the Jeep. Brian acting like nothing was amiss, nonchalant to Cynthia as he extended his goodbye to the point that Michael thought he would start whimpering if Brian didn’t hurry the fuck up. And then the drive home, again in silence - the weight of it driving Michael crazy until he snapped the moment they were inside.

His hands acting before his brain could function to form the words needed to ask permission; Michael was next to the bed pulling off Brian’s shirt and shoving down his jeans before even he knew what had happened. The result being a naked, aroused Brian laughing with his eyes as he grinned at Michael while purposefully swatting away Michael reaching hands.

“Hearing you say please is getting to be one of my favorite things.” Grabbing Michael, holding the smaller man’s still completely clothed body trapped between the strength of his thighs, Brian demanded softly, “Say it again.”

Michael stilled at the quiet words, seeing Brian’s concession had its price. “Please.”

Releasing a thoughtful hum, Brian pressed his face to Michael’s stomach - rubbing his face against him as he breathed in Michael’s scent. Hearing him gasp, Brian looked up through his lashes at Michael’s face and asked, “How do you want me?”

Michael let out a sound, needful even as he stood chagrined at admitting, “Question is how don’t I want you.”

His enjoyment of Michael’s words clear on his face, Brian lifted an eyebrow and said, “Welllll….”

Licking his lips, Michael answered, “Lie back, and spread your legs.”

Brazen, Brian moved slowly up the bed until his back rested on a mound of pillows. Running his hands down his stomach and over his thighs, he held Michael’s attention as he pulled his legs up, knees in the air until his feet were flat on the mattress. Completely open, reclined back and on display - he waited for Michael’s next move.

Unmindful of anything but the reality, the vision of Brian - both hard and his - Michael climbed onto the bed still fully clothed. He came to rest on his knees between Brian’s legs, though he didn’t rest for long. Immediate concerns overtook any semblance of patience as he covered Brian, raising up over the taller man before seeking out every inch of skin he could reach to touch, to taste.

Hands tracing fiery lines over Brian’s chest, stomach, legs and thighs followed the hot moist trail of Michael’s mouth as it moved in shadow to his own tease. Brian gasped at the attention to his nipples, the endless journey of Michael’s touch as it swept back from one to the other, of his lips as they sucked and nipped at him until his nipples stood out hard and wet. And all the while, Brian kept switching from arching back his head to looking back down at the sight of Michael devouring him alive. Getting closer and closer, hands already there - stroking him hot and slow as Brian thrust up into Michael’s grasp. Driving him further and further into mindless need, until his control lie fractured - his hands tangling in Michael’s hair as he pushed, guiding the heat of Michael’s lips to take their first taste of his cock.

“Ohhhh, yeah. Ahh.” Brian voice groaning from above worked Michael’s senses as surely as the explosion of taste over his tongue that was Brian, but more so…. The hard silken length of him inside Michael’s mouth, through his lips again and again as he sucked and played. Testing his limits, his tricks - Michael worked inch after inch inside until the head was at the back of his throat, his nose being teased by the brush of dark curls. And he moaned, moaned at the wonder of it, at the joy in it - that it was happening, that he was the one making Brian jerk and curse. The feel of Brian’s fingers tightening in his hair….

Both of them too caught up in the rush of it all to hear the ringing of Brian’s cell from the floor beside the bed, until the incessant pitch of it bled through the roaring in Brian’s ears. “Sonofabitch,” he breathed. Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, he eased Michael up and made a quick rolling grab at his jeans. Yanking the phone angrily from his pocket, Brian looked at the display - seeing a name newly programmed in earlier that day.

Declan Rai….

Smiling widely at Michael’s frown, Brian answered the call still breathing hard from before, “Declan….”

Accented amusement lacing his words, “Sounds like I’ve interrupted, ….something.”

Clearing his throat to calm his voice, despite the fast beating of his heart, Brian muttered, “Something, yes.”

A chuckle carried over the line, “Do you want me to call back? Or are you a multi-tasker as well as an exhibitionist?”

“It’s been known to happen.” Implication strong, Brian added, “Wouldn’t want to waste the build up.”

Mutual understanding clear, Declan mused, “Michael must be a man of talent, and … taste.”

Leaning in, Brian brushed his lips over Michael’s - enjoying the moist puffiness of use as they kissed. Locking his eyes with Michael’s, his look intense with intent, Brian again pushed his fingers into Michael’s hair and slowly, oh so slowly, pushed Michael’s head back down. Releasing a sigh, barely masking a louder moan as Michael again opened to take him in.

A moment to acclimate, and Brian answered, “Goo…. Good guess.” He dropped back against the pillows, petting Michael’s cheek and neck as he was driven closer even still by Michael’s small sounds of pleasure, muffled though they were around his flesh. “Uhmm…. Did you, ahh. Give it any thought.”

Baring witness, albeit audibly, to the pleasure at the end of the line - Declan replied, his accent thickening the longer the conversation lasted. “Had I not, this admirable display of Michael’s willingness to serve would have certainly helped me to decide. He does,” Declan paused, “give himself, to you with every look and breath. I can’t think how you’ve managed to contain yourself so long.”

Gritting his teeth as he tried to answer around the rising swell of his senses, Brian managed, “Deflection. And restr…. Ahhh ahnn, restraint.”

A snort escaped Declan, followed by, “Neither of which by your own admission, you have a reputation for entertaining.”

Shaking, jerking - Brian fought against the torrent of fire in his blood, knowing even as he gasped allow that it was over. “Only with hhh, him.” Like a lightening strike, Brian’s world flashed and he cried out - his shout mixing with Michael’s hungry groan as Brian flood his mouth with warmth. The two of them locked and lost in pleasure as the phone lay fallen on the bed.

When his head cleared, Brian pulled Michael up to lie beside him and met him with a kiss. He sighed, satisfied to find the taste of himself on Michael’s tongue. But as he reached down in search of more with which to play, Brian broke the kiss with a deep chuckle. “Someone’s been a bad, bad, bad man.” Cupping the dampened denim over Michael’s groin, Brian tisked at the other’s plaintive murmur. Letting Michael hide his face against him, Brian laughed. “That is fucking hot, Mikey.” He spoke against Michael’s ear, “I love knowing I do that to you.”

Michael smiled, closing his eyes as he shook his head , “I’m gonna run out of clean pants.”

A snicker in response, and Brian reached back for his forgotten phone. “Sorry, still there?”

Dryly, “With ears ringing, yes.”

Running his free hand through Michael’s hair, Brian said in a relaxed tease, “Annnnnnd?”

“And, I want to make you a proposal. One that I believe will provide you both with answers quicker, and with a more intimate environment in which to explore than you’d find in most training atmospheres.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ve a house, couple hours outside Pittsburgh. The location is secluded, no prying eyes or interruptions from the outside world. A perfect place for a lazy getaway from city life. We’re heading up there on holiday for a few days.”

Brian interrupted, “And this ties in with your proposal how?”

Voice showing his amusement at Brian’s impatience, Declan continued, “What I’m suggesting is that you both come with us….” When Brian gave no immediate reply, he added, “If you want to look at it practically, going would serve two functions. It would allow you both to continue freely exploring the change from friends to lovers without the added friction of dealing with family and friends’ reactions. And it would provide a…. Safe House, if you will. Where you participate as little or as much as satisfies.“

Considering, Brian mused, “Like a no-pressure show and tell….” He ruffled Michael’s hair as the other man looked up in question, throwing a wink at him which caused Michael to smile before lying his head back down on Brian’s chest.

With a laugh, Declan said, “It’s a good analogy, yes. You would both be welcome to stay as long as you wish. The week or just a couple days. It’s entirely your decision.”

Brian asked, “Not that it would change my answer, but is this on or off the clock for you? What’s the….”

Declan broke in before Brian could finish, “Angle? That does seem to be a favorite topic of reasoning for you. But considering your line of work, I would imagine it would hold precedence in any given situation.” A breath, silence and then he answered thoughtfully, “It’s a personal invitation, not professional. Clocking this would be . . . crude. Not to mention cheapening the experience. So it stands, free from strings. I don’t need the money, regardless. As to my angle. It’s selfish, really. I would enjoy it. As you will learn, I am equal parts voyeur and exhibitionist. Teaching you would garner me the satisfaction of being both witness and instrument….” He paused again, then added in a conspiratorial tone, “Besides, I wouldn’t be a gay man with a dick if I couldn’t admit that watching the two of you play is hotter than fuck.”

Brian snorted, “Now that’s motivation I’m intimately familiar with….” Rolling Michael over, Brian leaned up on one arm, phone to his ear as he began to pull open Michael’s jeans. He almost laughed as Michael quickly kicked off his shoes and yanked the sweater over his head. Mouthing “take them off” to Michael, Brian addressed Declan as the stained denim was pushed off and over the side of the bed. “How hands-on a learning curve are we talking about?” The edge in his voice back again as he smoothed a touch over Michael’s softening cock, causing the other man to arch into it even as he released a soft hiss - his skin still sensitive from coming.

Perceptive to the change in Brian’s mood, Declan assured, “The limits are the same as agreed on today. Not that I don‘t believe he couldn‘t be seduced into doing more with someone of your choosing; he is so devoted to pleasing you that it wouldn‘t be hard to achieve. But it wouldn‘t be what he wanted, and moreover, right now it would be a detriment to his comfort and trust.” With more of a push, he added, “You’re finding, aren’t you, that the more you are with him, the less it’s even a question. Older options, and habits are falling away. Because on both an emotional and now primal level, he’s yours and no one else should have him.”

Brian felt a spark of his darker nature, the impulse to say fuck off to the notion that anything or anyone controlled him, but himself. But as he looked at Michael, his eyes sweeping over him to take in the stretched line of Michael’s neck as he threw back his head, eyes closed and lips parted, a hand covering Brian’s own as it teased Michael’s reawakening length between his parted thighs - Brian knew protesting was useless in the face of truth. He didn’t want anyone doing this to Michael but him; anyone causing Michael to moan as he grew hard. He didn’t want anyone else’s name escaping those lips in a gasp but his own.

With the absence of a reply from Brian, Declan said, “It’s a part of it, Brian. As a Dominant, you are control. You are possession. And he is the focus of both. Add in the familiarity, the history and the love I see in each of you…. It’s undeniable.”

Held between Declan’s words and the pull of Michael’s dark eyes as they opened, Brian cleared his throat. “You knew what my answer would be before you called, didn’t you?”

“It was an educated guess.”

Placing the phone against his chest after telling Declan to hold on, Brian leaned in and kissed Michael. Speaking quietly, “Why don’t you go start the shower while I finish this.” He answered Michael’s plaintive sigh, resulting from the removal of Brian’s hand, with a burning look. “I want to know you’re in there, wet and hard for me. Now hop to….” He planted a pop on Michael’s ass as he hurried off the bed, laughing as Michael’s voice sounded off the tiles….

“Bastard.”

“Legit from conception, Novotny. As well you know….” Brian smiled as Michael’s laughter echoed back, until the sound of running water drowned it out.

His expression turning serious, Brian walked through the loft to his desk and turned on his computer. Opening up his calendar, he raised the phone to his ear. “So tell me the details for this little getaway. I’ve got some juggling to do….”

- - - - - - -

“You’re joking right? I mean, you’ve got to be.” Michael’s voice was loud in the enclosed cab of the Jeep, so he could be heard above the sounds of traffic and Brian’s blaring radio. Staring at Brian’s face, Michael’s eyes widened as it hit him. It wasn‘t a joke. He turned the music off and shook his head. “A week? What about, I mean we haven’t told….”

Brian cut in, “It’s called spontaneity, Michael. And before you start worrying out loud, I’ve handled everything. I arranged a week’s vacation at work. They fucking owe it to me after I saved their fiscal asses, besides which I’m due the time off. Your store is covered; I called Vic and he happily volunteered.” Giving Michael a quick look before turning back to the passing traffic, Brian continued, “I told him a client had offered up use of his place for a few days and I decided you needed kidnapping for your own good. Vic seems to think I’ll be good for your morale.”

Distracted for a moment, Michael asked, “Did you tell him, about….?”

“That I’ve been doing dirty, depraved things with his nephew? Ha, no. He’d ask for full details if I did.” Brian joked. Seeing that Michael was in deep thought, he said, “You know he’ll be our greatest cheerleader. And possibly the only person besides you who‘ll cover me when Deb goes for my balls.”

“Oh shit. Ma.” Michael felt the dread hit him, knowing she would kill him for not telling her he was leaving. Not to mention her reaction when they told people about…. If they told people about…. If, if, if - fuck, he hated that the voice inside his head still could make him doubt. “Double shit. I need to call her.“

His attempt to dial out was throttled when Brian jerked the cell phone from his hand. “Nah ahhh. No phone calls. No contact with any of them till we get back.” When Michael frowned, Brian waved the phone at him. “I will put this down my pants if I have to.”

Face breaking with a smile, Michael laughed, “I’d say the days of me hesitating to stick my hands down your pants are past us.”

Brian burst out laughing, hard and loud. It was his freest expression, without any walls or defenses. Michael had always thought of it as Brian’s Neverland look; forever young and beautiful.

When he managed to catch his breath, Brian said, “Now that’s a move I’ll expect to be on the receiving end of, often.” Pocketing Michael’s phone in his coat, “As for your mom, Vic is handing over the news. So I get to be the bad guy she’ll be cursing until I get you home. He‘s got our contact information too, so stop worrying. I want you to leave all that behind for awhile, okay?”

Sitting back, Michael tried to do as Brian said. He found himself getting lost in watching the vehicles they passed, still tired from lost sleep the night before. Not that he was complaining; hell, he was still reveling at having been woken up to find Brian taking him into his mouth - the feel of it, the heat, the pull of his lips and the touch of his tongue. Even the thought had Michael shifting in his seat; which caused Brian to pull Michael’s hand over to rest on his thigh, thinking he needed contact to relax, unaware that the warmth of his skin beneath the jeans only served to rouse Michael’s blood all the more.

They’d been playing around, enjoying each other in and out of bed yesterday, when Michael’s stomach had growled enough to remind them both that they’d missed dinner. Brian would have ordered in but Michael reminded him that he needed a change of clothes for work, so they’d headed out for a quick bite and a stop at Michael’s apartment. An apartment that was thankfully Emmett-free, as Brian kept letting his hands travel over Michael’s body when he was trying to stuff some clothes into his gym bag. They’d fallen onto Michael’s bed, kissing until they were breathless. Only to stop when Brian pulled away suddenly and hauled him back onto his feet, asking a dazed Michael where he’d hidden the cuffs from the Leather Ball.

Looking down at his leather clad wrists, Michael blushed at the memory of their return. At the memory of being on Brian’s bed, back at the loft, naked and posed - clad in nothing but the cuffs with his arms stretched out, legs pulled up and apart while Brian spread cool cream between his cheeks. Driving him mad as his recovery was tested, as Brian tormented him by denying them both the ultimate claim. A whisper of, “shhh, soon,” and Brian’s body pressing him into the bed as they arched and thrust together until they came.

He hadn’t taken them off since, with the exception of the quick morning shower Brian had dragged him out of in the rush of their departure. And he didn’t plan to anytime soon, finding the weight of them, the pressure of their hold a comfort.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Michael turned to Brian and questioned, “Where are we going? We haven‘t even packed anything.”

Covering Michael’s hand on his leg, Brian gave a small grin. “It’s taken care of, check the back.”

Michael looked behind them, finding two bags he hadn’t noticed. Choosing not to venture as to when Brian managed to pack and ditch them in the Jeep, he returned to his other question, “And we’re going where?”

Craning his neck as he slowed down the Jeep to a stop, nodding over as he answered, “Not just where, but with whom.”

Turning to look, Michael jerked his head back to Brian just as quick. “You’re kidding.” When Brian started laughing at Michael’s return to the beginning of their conversation, Michael couldn’t help but smile himself. “Okay, you’re not kidding.”

Waving to Declan and Ashton as the two got into their car, Brian leaned over and kissed Michael, softly playing into Michael’s sweet response. Murmuring against the smaller man’s lips, “So what do you say? A week of letting me make you mine, no judgments, no worries. Just more, and more, and more and….”

His words ended with Michael’s pressing into him, kissing him. Kissing him hard as he passed a, “Yes,” back over Brian’s mouth. “Yes, please.”

- - - - - - -

Declan’s house was . . . rather a surprise.

It lay back from the road, surrounded by at least ten acres of trees. There was a private drive up from the stone gate that was lined by tall trunks, with snow covered limbs so high they blocked out large sections of the sky. It was as imposing as it was impressive.

Brian shot Michael a look, brow arched as he teased him, “Take a deep breath, Mikey. It’s not like we’re entering the lion’s den.” Of course, as they broke through to the courtyard and the house came into view, even Brian Kinney was want to stare.

The house was large, two stories with a stone façade. Like something out of an English period film, the manor house was all arches and eves, smoking chimneys and snow covered roofs. Well cared for even in the absence of its owner, the cobblestone circular drive had been shoveled clear and the lights were on, shining through the Tudor diamond cut windows warmly on an overcast day. The general atmosphere was welcoming, if a bit surreal to find in the middle of Pennsylvania.

“It’s like something out of a movie.” Michael’s voice pulled Brian’s attention back to him. He was sitting with an awed expression on his face, excited and feeling a bit out of place.

The out of place part was something Brian was going to strive to erase…. Even if he had to escort Michael over the threshold of his own sense of reservation and doubt.

Parking the Jeep, Brian stepped out and walked to Michael’s side as he exited the vehicle and made to reach back for the bags. “Leave ‘em till later.” Michael was circling his arms about his middle, shivering in the cold air when Brian pulled him into his arms. They stood hugging next to the Jeep, Brian’s hands rubbing up and down Michael’s back as he said, “’Second to the right, and straight on till morning.’“

The quote from “Peter Pan” made Michael smile as he looked up into Brian’s face, a fond light shining on both their faces at the reference to Neverland. Michael chuckled as he joked, “If you start saying you believe in fairies, I may have to bolt.”

Instead of laughing in turn, Brian’s face grew serious as he shared an intimate truth. “No, but I do believe in you.”

Michael stood silent, powerless to turn away as they looked at each other and held the moment without words. It lasted but a time, though it held the world.

Until their attention was called away as Declan approached. “Welcome to Havenshire.” He came to stand at their sides, a smile gracing his face - both easy and confident at the same time. His dark curls fell back from his forehead, artfully styled as they swept down over the high collar of his black sweater. Cashmere by the look. His trousers were also black, a wool blend made to fit, ending atop his black leather ankle boots. His leather jacket lay open to the elements as he placed his hands into his pants pockets.

Ashton, coming up at Declan’s side, smirked mischievously. “A play on two of my all time favorite phrases, ‘Safe Haven’ and ‘Sheer Heaven’.” He nudged Declan’s shoulder with his own, playing as Michael and Brian shared a look. Decked out in white, Ashton was a gorgeous contrast to Declan’s black. His overcoat was unbuttoned, revealing a cream knit sweater that zipped together from bottom to top with a turtle neck designed collar that was undone and fanned open over the lapels of his coat. The outfit was completed with oatmeal wool trousers and brown leather lace up boots. Causal but with a thought towards sensible chic.

Sighing with an exasperation that didn’t reach his eyes, Declan glanced at Ashton, pointedly.

Secreting a not so secret I’m-in-trouble-now look at Brian and Michael over Declan’s shoulder, Ashton said, “And that’s my bag grabbing cue. If you will, I’ll go open the house.” He reached out for their bags, taking them from Brian with a wink before he turned to leave them with Declan.

Who called out to Ashton, “Parade rest.” His words caused a slight straightening of Ashton’s back, but didn’t stop his progress to the front door.

Returning his focus to his guests, Declan cocked his head and looked at Brian for a moment. Passing a wordless question that Brian answered with a nod. Addressing Michael, Declan said, “Brian asked me in advance to pose a question to you, Michael. And to explain briefly what you may look forward to in the coming days.” Stressing his next words, he continued, “You understand, this is an allowance on your Dominant’s part. A gift. Once you take the final step in your submission, he is under no obligation to discuss or explain his intentions or plans for you. He may choose to do so as he pleases, but it is not something you should expect.”

Extending his hand briefly in the direction of the house, Declan said, “You are welcome to pass into Havenshire as either guest or student. If you choose to as a guest, then your time here will continue without further exploration of your submission. It will be only a quiet time for you both to adjust to the change in your relationship.” Moving closer, standing so that Michael was pressed back against the line of Brian’s body, he concluded, “If you choose to enter as student, it will also be as sub to Brian’s Dom. His word will be law, his desire your only concern. You will leave choice behind at the door, with the understanding that you still hold the power of ultimate consent by virtue of your safe word.”

Leaning in, invading Michael’s private space until their cheeks almost touched, Declan spoken into Michael’s ear even as he looked up into Brian’s eyes. “This house is a home without inhibition, Michael. And within its walls, you stand to know great pleasure. But it comes at a cost.”

Held between the warmth of their bodies, Michael closed his eyes as he listened to Declan’s voice. As he listen to the words, Irish accent lyrically lacing each as they impacted his gut. Laying back his head, he looked at Declan as Brian again circled strong arms around his waist. The embrace a comfort to his escalating pulse. Inhaling deeply, cold air burning through his lungs, Michael nodded.

“We need two words, Michael. One last time, one last choice. What do you say? Do you submit?”

Ears on fire, he answered, “To Brian, yes.” His condition of consent evident to both men, causing Brian to give him a squeeze and Declan to laugh.

Declan gave a small grin, turning as he said, “Then follow me.”

- - - - - - -

The warmth of the foyer hit them with the closing of the front door. They were in a large area, opened up two stories high - standing before a grand staircase that was centered to the entrance of the house. Hardwood floors, dark woods and heavy furniture with metalwork chandeliers hanging from above - the décor was masculine and strong.

But for all the majesty of the room, it wasn’t enough to hold the eye as Brian and Michael stood surprised and questioning at the other that was in view.

Ashton. Standing in the middle of the floor, back straight, legs slightly apart, arms clasped behind him. Position parade rest, but with his head formally bowed. Still, so still he stood - completely serious, his vibrant energy housed, controlled. At rest as he remained silent, sans his coat and surprisingly barefoot as well.

“If you’ll put your coats up, gentlemen, we’ll begin.” Declan’s voice was startling, drawing their curious eyes away from Ashton as they did as asked. Taking off his own coat, Declan threw it over the back of a chair and walked to Ashton. “True submission is to be stripped, naked to the will and desire of the one who controls you. Bared in body, mind and soul.” He stopped at Ashton’s side, close but not touching as he looked back at Brian and Michael - holding their attention. “And as such, the submission must be realized - fully and physically, whether it be by sub,” he gestured to Michael, “or by slave.”

A hand raised, fingers pushed with affection through Ashton’s hair and then Declan stepped away, punctuating his words with a sharp, loud snap of his fingers.

A signal, a command…..

One that was followed with forthright grace as Ashton raised his head and complied. Fingers unthreading the leather of his belt, he pulled the length free with a long slow slide. Dropping it to the side, he drew the zipper of his sweater down until the fabric parted. Sliding his fingers in between the folds, he caressed his chest from neck to waist before arching his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Michael’s gasp echoed through the room…. A reaction to seeing the canvas of Ashton’s skin. For it was a canvas, flesh as art. It wasn’t that he was beautiful; he was. It was more. It was the unexpected additions to his physique that drew the eye. Nipples taut, pierced on both sides by small stainless steel rings. And his wrists….

In the split second before the image merged with understanding, Michael only saw dark marks encircling them - like his own. But then he saw, saw and knew that Ashton’s marks were of a permanence that couldn’t fade with time. Tattooed, each with a different design that Michael couldn’t make out given the distance. Larger too, than Michael’s bruises. The tats were three inch bands, stark against Ashton’s skin but eye catching as he raised his hands to finish his unveiling.

A sweep of his fingers over the now obvious line of his wool trapped erection, the cupping of his palm over its rise for only a moment and then he was unbuttoning the waist and sliding down the zip. His eyes never wavered - focused on the two men across the way as he drew the warm, rasping-soft wool over his hips and let them drop to his feet. Left as Declan had demanded, unclad but for one last adornment. A matching steel ring encircling his engorged length and balls, outlining his attributes with a firm unforgiving restraint.

Unblushing and bold, he stepped free of his pants and stood with arms at his sides - letting Brian and Michael look as they would. Until the moment broke with the sound of another snap, eyes turning to Declan as he walked to Ashton’s side whereupon the naked man again bowed his head and went to his knees, hands clasped at his back. And for the first time since they’d entered Havenshire, he spoke aloud - tone ripe with sincerity and a willingness to please, “Master. How may I serve?”

Witnessing the confirmation of what he’d suspected, Brian let his eyes travel over Ashton as he felt Michael going still beside him. He turned to see the caught expression on Michael’s face; and felt the look call to his blood as much if not more so than Ashton’s display. Pulling Michael close, Brian wrapped his arm across the smaller man’s chest and looked back, meeting Declan’s eyes as the Irishman gave him a nod.

“Submission is more than something you are; it is something you must show. It is something you must earn. Your Dominant’s due. And as his due, Brian has chosen to incorporate one of Ashton’s daily services to me into your personal routine.” Lifting Ashton’s head, Declan ran his thumb over the swell of the other’s lips, brushing back and forth over them until Ashton opened to take it inside, sucking on it so sweetly that Declan’s voice when it came again was pitched an octave lower. “Do you like having cock in your mouth, Michael? The taste, the feel of giving pleasure, of being of use even as you‘re being used?” Holding his eyes on Ashton’s face, he asked as a final seduction, “Do you dream about it at night?”

A small sound that carried even so through the room escaped Michael, who was now holding onto Brian’s enclosing arm for balance was he waded in the surf of his rising emotions - in the wake of his body’s response. Unknowingly wetting his lips before he tried to speak, Michael answered the only way he could given the sudden hardness below his belt that was answer enough. “Yes, I… Yes.” Blushing as he remembered that he’d admitted as much when Ashton was asking him questions the day before….

Declan looked down at Ash and smiled, “Ash does, too. Which is why he finds this next service such a pleasure…” Rising to stand straight, he pulled Ashton’s face to him, cradling it against the hard line of his groin. “It is a sub’s place to pay homage to his Dom; on his knees he will show his welcome, with his mouth he will show his devotion.” Dropping back his head, Declan murmured as he closed his eyes, “What is my right?”

Ashton’s voice carried over in answer, “To do with me as you will.”

Declan smiled softly, black lashes hiding the blue of his eyes as he looked to the ceiling. “And what is your duty?”

Circling his face, his mouth against the wool of Declan’s pants, Ashton answered, “To serve as you allow.”

Lowering his head, Declan turned his gaze to Brian and Michael. “Then serve me well.”

With a moan, Ashton opened his lips and mouthed the bulge beneath Declan’s pants; breathing hot air into the fabric as he raised his hands to undo the trousers. Parting the sides, he licked the tip of Declan’s hard length, peaking over the band of the under-shorts as he rubbed his palm over Declan’s cloth covered balls. Releasing a hungry sound, Ashton pulled down on the shorts until the length was free to rise up long and hard against Declan’s dark sweater clad stomach.

Stroking his hand up and down the shaft, Ashton tongued the sensitive testicles, sucking on them each in turn as Declan sighed and tightened his grip in Ash’s hair. He murmured happily, heatedly as Declan pulled his mouth up to open for him. To take him inside, which Ashton did with greed. For even as he provided pleasure, he took pleasure as well as was evident in his enthusiasm with the task. His face held still by Declan’s claiming hands, Ash closed his eyes and lost himself in being both vessel and home to his master’s cock as his lips were invaded and mouth taken over and over, again and again. Each thrust shaking loose a sound from deep within Ashton’s chest, the stream and volume running together as Declan sped up the pace. Getting closer and closer as he fucked Ashton in a show of both the power he held over the other man, and the power that Ash had over him.

Aroused, affected - Michael was pulled hard against Brian’s body as they watch, unconscious that he was moving his hips back against Brian’s erection - but made fully aware as Brian ground his dick into the rise of Michael’s behind. Brian’s voice in his ear, “I’m going to have you tasting me everyday. Naked, and on your knees.” Nipping at the delicate lobe, he panted, “Welcoming me home, after I’ve spent all day at work thinking of your lips around my cock.”

The limits of his patience at the breaking point, Brian pulled open the buttons of his lover’s fly and jerked the sweater over Michael’s head just as Declan began to come; the man’s cry breaking out of him in a rush as he bowed to the force of his climax, coming in the heat of Ashton’s mouth as Brian raked the denim of Michael’s jeans off his hips, leaving them to pool on the floor.

Incensed by what they’d witnessed, Brian didn’t waste anymore time. He spun Michael around and down on his knees; the smaller man’s legs now bound by his own clothing. There was no finesse left to him in the face of his own carnality, in the dark, black of Michael‘s yearning eyes. Brian opened his jeans and took himself in hand, so hard he was leaking. “Take it, Mikey. Show me how much you want me.” His words ended in a hiss as Michael rushed forward before he could finish, and then all was silken wet suction and the image of Michael devouring him with a desperation that had passion clawing through Brian’s system with a pleasure so good it was almost pain.

It was sudden; it was raw. Brian’s driving thrusts hitching with rhythm lost as Michael worked him with an intensity that robbed them both of time; the end coming too soon as Brian grunted and moaned as his body spasmed, as he spilled over Michael’s tongue and down his throat. Michael’s name sounding in a sharp call before Brian found pleasure’s end and could once more open his eyes.

To see that in turn, they had become the focus of Master and slave. Declan, clothed once more, with Aston still panting and hard at his feet, both sets of eyes set on Michael’s devotion and Brian’s demand. The look from both was approval. Was pride.

- - - - - - -

Brian’s laughter rung out through the room, louder and louder as Michael tried to dodge his clinging hands.

“Shut UP! You knew he was going to do this and you didn’t even tell me.” Michael’s embarrassed indignation only served to amuse Brian more, which only made Michael try to sidestep faster. But finally the length of Brian’s arms proved Michael’s downfall, and he was pulled to the bed.

Pulled still naked and hard to the bed….

They’d left the foyer quickly after, well…. “Fuck! Brian, I can’t believe I just, we just…. This is fucking nuts.” He was still flushed from before, and disconcerted. Okay, and maybe more than a little turned on by the brazenness of what they’d done, by the way he’d made Brian lose it. His continuing arousal more than evidenced by the hard-on between his legs. Which he’d as yet not been allowed to touch, and had then forgotten he wanted to touch in light of Declan’s departing news….

“Tell me it’s not true, that you’re both kidding.”

Brian sat on the bed, guiding Michael between his spread legs. Still laughing as he caressed Michael’s leather clad wrists, “I’m sorry. I haven’t heard a thing after you mentioned nut fucking.”

Michael laughed despite himself, then gasped as Brian reached between his thighs and cupped his balls. “I… I, ah… Oh, shit. The nak… Uhmm. No clo, clothes all…ahh.” He couldn’t talk around the unbelievably great sensation of Brian’s fingertips fluttering firmly under his testicles. Although it was a less difficult task than trying to wrap his mind around the concept of not being allowed to wear any clothing for the next week. Except during a scene, and only then by Brian’s choice.

Looking up at Michael, Brian’s eyes darkened as he leaned in and licked a line from Michael’s navel to his chest. “I like the idea of having you to look at, to touch whenever and wherever I want.” Pointedly punctuating his words, Brian let his other hand travel over Michael’s ass and tickled at the crease, echoing with lighter friction the movement of his hand between Michael’s thighs. “Touch yourself, Mikey. I want to watch you do it.”

Now completely distracted from his prior concern, Michael’s eyes fluttered closed as he took himself in hand. Edging nearer and nearer still, he stroked and moaned - both due to his own touch and Brian’s hands. It rose in him, the burn and ache causing him to arch his neck and gasp out, “I’m, I…”

“Open your eyes…”

Brian’s voice called him back from bursting, if only for the time it took him to obey. But he was gone in an instant, as Brian bowed his head and took him into his mouth. Shouting out as he came, Michael grabbed Brian’s shoulders as his body shook - holding on as he settled back down to earth.

He was still shaking when Brian laid him down on the large canopy bed that dominated the room. Brian pulled the drapes closed to shut out the light from the windows opposite, leaving the side of the bed nearest the fire open as he lay down after taking off his clothes. Running his hands along Michael’s arms, he whispered, “Cold?”

Michael whispered back, “Not with you to keep me warm.” It earned him a kiss, and then another.

Brian murmured softly against his lips, “Nap time, Mikey. Close your eyes.“

Lulled by the sense of satiation, by the warmth of Brian’s body and his lack of sleep the night before, Michael sighed in agreement. One last kiss from Brian, and he did as told. Falling easily into rest, he began to drift. And then to dream.

- - - - - - -

Part 6

- - - - - - -

A couple of hours later found Brian standing by the bed, watching Michael as he slept. Given his cast-iron constitution, Brian hadn’t needed much sleep before waking. To pass the time, he’d stoked the fire and unpacked. Trying to keep quiet as he hung up a few choice items, Brian had been fairly amused by the passing thought that as a sub, it could have been a task for Michael. But just as quick as it had come, he found himself shaking it off.

That sort of shit wasn’t what he wanted from Michael. It smacked too much of playing the married couple, with Michael relegated to being the little wife. And he didn’t want a maid; he already had a cleaning lady. No, nor was it about having Michael groveling at his feet or having him kowtowing to Brian’s every whim.

Welllll…. Unless the whim involved having Michael on hands and knees, moaning for his dick.

Course even the thought of that had Brian clenching his jaw, fighting the impulse to pounce. Later, he told himself. Later…

No, what they were there for wasn’t to lessen his spirit or dampen Michael’s fire. It was to build them both.

Brian’s attention turned as Michael shifted in his sleep, turning over onto his stomach as he hugged Brian’s pillow. Hazel eyes followed down the curve of Michael’s back, over the rise of his behind to stop at the peek of the soft sac visible when he raised his leg with an unconscious murmur.

Blowing out a sigh, Brian scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He’d never been one to value delayed gratification, never fond of anticipation. He would rather seek and do, than wait and dream.

It was proving an interesting form of self-torture; the waiting.

Just a little while longer, one meal more. And then….

“Fuck,” Brian turned from Michael, casting himself away from the temptation to rush as he walked back to the closet to pull on his clothes for dinner. All the while, thinking back to Declan’s call the day before . . . to the last thing they’d discussed.

“Some think life is a linear pursuit; some think it more of a circular progression. It’s the same within the scene. Differences in philosophy, with no perfect road to follow. And a multitude of paths from which you may choose. For myself, I keep more with the thought of circular progression. To begin with love is to end with love. To begin under a mask and playing a role is to end wearing that mask and playing that same role.”

Brian had answered, “You’re not warning me off, so what are you trying to say?”

Declan replied, “To a cynic from a jade, I’m saying for Michael’s sake, begin with love. No bells or whistles, no trappings of control. Just you making him yours, and him making you his.…”

The words had echoed long after the call ended.

Looking back at Michael, it was clear to him. Half a life’s waiting was at an end.

The surprise of it though . . . was that the wait hadn’t been only Michael’s. It had been his, as well.

- - - - - - -

“Uhmm, Brian. Brian, I…. Oh, God.” Michael arched, and clung to Brian’s shoulder as he moved into his tormentor’s teasing. Seated sideways over Brian’s lap with his face buried in the curve of the taller man’s neck, he moaned and tried not to twist away from the pressure at his chest; Brian‘s fingers pulling and rolling his nipples till Michael was hard as a rock.

Brian was driving him crazy. Had been since he woke up with Brian’s tongue tracing the curve of his ass, the backs of his thighs. Only to stop as soon as Michael opened his eyes. But Michael couldn’t even think to protest when he got a look at what Brian was wearing.

Lying there, hard-on screaming at him for more and Michael could only remain motionless. Staring….

Until it clicked in his mind, the memory of where he’d seen the clothing before….

At which point he buried his head in the nearest pillow and groaned, “You shit, you shit.” He was quickly silenced when Brian jerked him by his legs, physically dragging him out of bed until he was standing naked and pressed against Brian with his hands being held behind him.

Silk and leather against his skin with the heat of Brian’s eyes raining down on him; Michael’s breath quickened. The reality of their positions, and the change in things from the last time Brian had worn those…. Since he had practically spray painted sex with fashion over his body like a second skin….

“You are an evil man, Brian Kinney.” The words a whisper, an involuntary response. But no less true for the effect he was having on Michael’s senses.

With a wicked grin, Brian popped Michael on the ass - rubbing the spot that smarted with his hand to sooth the bite. “Calling your Dom names is a good way to earn yourself a spanking.” Stepping back, he held out his arms and turned in a circle. “As for the evil thing, some would say the clothes are only as hot as the man wearing them.” He returned to crowd Michael against the bedpost, speaking low and intimate in the fractional space between. “And I’ve always been a scorcher, Mikey.”

Michael swallowed quickly, closing his eyes as he felt Brian pushing against the front of his body. The image of Brian clothed in a snakeskin printed silk shirt and cream leather pants spiraling through his mind like a kaleidoscope, till he felt almost dizzy. It was the same outfit Brian had worn to the political fund raiser he’d not been invited to, but chose to crash when Michael had been living with David Cameron. An outfit made to stand out in, no matter the venue. Whether it be a snobbish evening of politics for hire, or a night like the one they were about to attend.

Seeing it now, feeling the warmth of Brian’s body beneath them, had Michael reaching out to touch as his hands smoothed down Brian’s chest and around his waist to rest on his ass. Enjoying the sensation of the material under his hands, until he heard….

“Did I say you could touch?”

Eyes opening, Michael frowned and tried to kiss the serious look off Brian’s face only to be stopped as Brian stepped out of reach.

“Ask me, Michael. I want to hear you ask to touch me. What‘s my new favorite word?”

Seeing the twinkle in Brian’s eyes that belayed his expression, Michael followed the call of his desire and obeyed. “Please? Let me touch you?”

Looking pleased, Brian nodded only to again step out of Michael reach. Qualifying his consent, “Later tonight. You’ll get to touch me all you want. For now, I’m the one who gets to play.”

It was the look on Brian’s face that should have been Michael’s warning, but only during the course of their evening meal would he understand what Brian had meant.

A meal that proved surprising from the moment he and Brian came down from their room….

Unable to fight his impulse to cover up, Michael walked into the great room at Brian’s back – as if there was any protection in hiding from eyes that had already seen. He thought that if he had been Brian in the same situation, he’d have been completely unselfconscious – more at home in his skin. As it was, Michael was very conscious of everything, as if being naked had made his senses hyperaware.

He knew some comfort when he first saw Ashton was still naked as well. Glad to not be the only one… But then he noticed the slight changes to the man since the last time – God, Michael’s eyes closed for a moment at the thought of the last time – he’d seen the man.

More relaxed, as if his energetic reserves had been satisfied, Ashton was kneeling on the floor by Declan’s chair. He was smiling lazily, then responded to something Declan had said that Michael could not hear. His face flushed, eyes half closed and mouth full from use; he bowed his head submissively. When Declan brushed through his hair in a caress of possessive affection, Ashton closed his eyes completely - humming his appreciation as he leaned his face against Declan’s thigh.

Caught up in watching the intimacy between their hosts, Michael was surprised to find Brian now behind him as strong arms held him close.

Brian’s lips nuzzling Michael’s neck as he spoke, “Look at his chest.”

Eyes following down from Ashton’s content expression, Michael breathed out an, “Oh.”

Chest covered in love marks, Ashton’s skin was a testament to his Dom’s passion. But more than that, his nipple rings had been changed out so that now he wore silver loops with tear drop weights. The pull on his nipples wasn’t too great, but it added something new to the war between the stiffness of their arousal and the distention of gravity. The weights moving slightly as he breathed, with the rise and fall of his chest.

Michael’s pulse jumped as Brian’s fingers brushed over his chest, seeking and finding the hard nubs that had Michael melting back against him. “So sensitive, Mikey.” Brian’s words, the tone of them hot in Michael’s ear, and the feel of his roaming hands caused Michael to be aware of the aching fullness at his groin. He was hard still from before, now more so both from the view and Brian’s touch.

“Can we skip dinner?” Michael’s voice shook as he joked softly.

Chuckling low, delighted at Michael’s impatience, Brian answered, “One – we haven’t eaten all day. Two – you’ll need your strength for later tonight.” Stroking his fingers lower, he tangled them in the dark hair that framed Michael’s cock. “And three, watching you watching them is fucking hot.” Taking Michael’s hand, Brian guided the flushed and flustered man into the room. A smirk on his face and a grin in his eyes…

Dinner proved unconventional to say the least.

Hosted in the great room rather than the dining room, they were having a buffet style spread of mixed meat slices, cheese, bread and fruit. Nothing too heavy for a first night, Declan explained. Their caretaker’s wife prepared the main meals of the house when they were in residence, delivering them to the kitchen entrance each day without disturbing the routine of the owners. Declan laughed at what he assumed she took to be the eccentricity of foreigners, explaining that in truth he hadn’t wanted her to happen in at an inappropriate moment or during a scene.

Ashton’s murmured, “You just don’t want her ogling my arse and danglies,” set the room on a roar of laughter - causing Declan to give him a gentle cuff to the head despite his amusement.

Seated in front of the fire on gothic high back carved wood chairs that looked like thrones, a small round table set between them for their plates – Declan and Brian ruled over the course of the meal. They set Ashton and Michael to serving up the food for all off the highboard, each in turn so that their ample assets were on full display to the room. Michael had turned red, shooting Brian a glare before following through. Ashton explained that the reason there were only two plates was that Declan would be feeding him as Brian fed Michael. “So pile it on, darling. You’re carrying for two.”

Michael was about to respond, when Ashton turned and walked back to Declan – his backside coming into view. The cheeks of his ass were rosy red, warmed by Declan’s hand not long before. A glance at Brian, who had noticed as well, had Michael recalling the bad-boys-get-spanked comment. With his breath deepening, Michael swallowed down his words and turned back to put more food on their plate.

The experience of being fed by Brian was disconcerting, but not in the obvious way. At first Michael had thought that like Ashton, he would be kneeling on the plush and very large velvet pillows set at the foot of each chair. But Brian it seemed had other plans. He pulled Michael onto his lap, turning him sideways across his thighs. And then followed one of the longest meals of Michael’s life… Each bite offered was followed by a reward, a touch, a lick, a kiss until Michael was squirming under Brian’s hands – half desperate with lust.

Not that Declan was letting Ashton get by any easier, from what Michael could tell when he wasn’t looking into Brian’s fire lit eyes.

It took a moan, loud and deep, from across the way to draw both Michael and Brian’s heads around.

Plate empty, meal at its end – Ashton had been pulled over Declan’s lap to lie bum up as the Irishman played with his hot skin. Hands flat on the floor to keep his balance, Ashton fought to keep still for his Master’s pleasure even as he was driven half-mad with Declan’s skill. Fingernails drawn in circles over his cheeks, altered with a slap and rub – over and over again until Ashton was panting.

Michael’s focus held fast; his breathing began to match Ashton’s until Brian drew his attention back. Pulling, rolling Michael’s nipples as he switched in and out with the hot suction of his lips and the wicked glide of his tongue, Brian had the brunette almost wrecked as Michael called out, “Uhmm, Brian. Brian, I…. Oh, God.”

Too much, not enough - Michael clung to Brian’s shoulders as he felt like he was nearing the point of freefall. His face hidden, turned into Brian’s neck, Michael continued to moan. His murmurs a whimper of encouragement and desperation, until the only word he could form completely, repeatedly was, “please, please, please.”

Whether as a result of having driven himself as lust-crazed as Michael, or from the sound of need in Michael’s voice - Brian’s patience had run its last mile.

Never a man to heed niceties when his dick was pointing north, Brian didn’t even wait to say goodnight. He guided Michael off his lap, stood and pulled him through the room and to the stairs. The both of them leaving their hosts at play as Declan’s laughter and Ashton’s moans followed them on their way….

- - - - - - -

Door slamming shut behind them, Brian didn’t stop until they were by the bed. Drawing Michael’s hands up to his chest, he reminded, “You said something about wanting to touch me?” At Michael’s eager nod, Brian leaned in and licked gently at his full lips. Murmuring before he took Michael’s mouth completely, “Have at it.”

Releasing Michael’s hands as he started to undo the buttons, Brian framed the other man’s face as the kissing continued, heated and moist. Shirt undone, Brian groaned as Michael’s hands dropped to open his leather pants - stopping to trace the ridge of Brian’s sex. Breaking the kiss, Brian fell into Michael’s dark gaze as he said, “No more teasing. The only thing I want to be wearing for the next few hours is latex and you.”

The words were illicit, brazen…. And were enough to send a rush of heat flowing through Michael as he quickly pulled the waistband open and dragged the leather down Brian’s legs; kneeling to remove Brian’s shoes along with the pants. Until they were both bare and wanting, a moment away from having it all.

When Michael tried to lean in and take Brian into his mouth - a tempting sight, it was undeniable - Brian pulled him up with a strong grip, pushing the smaller man back onto the bed. At Michael’s questioning look, Brian growled out an answer as he prowled up onto the mattress and over Michael’s body. “Later, right now I’m through waiting.” He breathed a hot gust over Michael’s open mouth, their faces pressed together at the brow. “I want inside you.”

Arching up into Brian’s weight, Michael gasped at the feel of Brian long and sleek and hard against him as he opened his thighs in invitation. “Do it, do it….Bri..uhmm.” Kissed again as Brian ran hands down his raised thighs, Michael panted for breath as Brian pulled away and reached to the table beside the bed.

Grabbing what they needed from where he’d placed it only hours before, Brian knelt back and looked at Michael. Looked at him clutching the sheets, eyes sharp with need as he lay open, wanton and best in Brian’s estimation - his.

Michael fought not to beg, biting his lip as Brian’s slicked fingers circled and pressed into his heat. He managed barely, but his breathing hitched and he was moaning again as Brian reached his… “Ahhh, please.” He couldn’t keep still, his hips rolling as Brian stroked his prostate again and again.

“Does it hurt?” Brian had to be sure, even as the voice in his head was screaming at him to take - the answer be damned.

“N… No, it…. You, ahh. So good.” His voice broke as Brian left him empty; the sound of tearing paper given his passion muddled mind the reason why. And then Brian was back again and Michael cried out; his body opening to the pressure and push of Brian as he entered with a determined thrust. The burn of entry giving way to the pleasure of the moment, Michael circled his strong thighs around Brian’s driving hips, pulled him in over and over.

Brian had meant to go slowly, an intent left on the doorstep of reason; but his body no longer answered the call of anything but its own need and the greed of the man clinging to him as they moved. Lips clashing, melding as the need to breathe warred with the need to taste - to take even as they took and gave, in equal measure. Until Brian broke away as his body seized on the verge - a cry, half grunt and half growl, wrestled from his gut as Michael raked his nails down Brian’s spine. And too quick, but hot as a rain storm on a summer day - Brian was pushed past his own control, spilling wet and warm into the sheath that was all that separated him from Michael.

And just as fast, he was pressing Michael down - holding his lover’s hands against the bed between the scattered pillows as he hissed a heated, “Wait, wait - keep still. Keep, oh fuck - still.” Eyes locked, dark brown to now near black, he focused on the feel of Michael beneath him - body strung tense with desire - the hard evidence of his unfulfillment rising upwards between their sweat wet bellies. Focusing too on the intense pressure and pull from within of Michael’s clinging muscles, the tight walls that vibrated around him with every squeeze Michael gave. And it was enough, more than all his body needed to hold his cock hard and aching to continue.

To manage the slow he’d intended all along….

Caught in the divide between coming and not, Michael panted as he struggled to hold himself still as Brian laid fully over him, still in him. Half mad with need, his body shook beneath the press and presence of Brian. He tried not to move, becoming bowstring tight; his thighs clasped hard and hands holding Brian‘s with a fierce grip. Unable to do anything but feel….

Feel it as Brian began to circle, to rock his hips into Michael. Moving slowly, fuck, so slowly but with continuing strokes - unrelenting and strong. At first barely leaving him, a inch out then in, out then in - then building the heat, the friction between them until he was undulating his body over Michael’s, into Michael’s, against Michael’s - working them both to the point of going senseless; their bodies nothing but the rhythm of the act, and the instruments of their greatest desire.

Skin wet, bodies hot - slick-marked by their striving for more, even as they were earning their end.

Grunting as Brian quickened his thrusts, Michael threw his head back and groaned. Almost, almost, oh shit, oh, oh fuck…he was, he was, going to…and then. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh…fuck, oh fuck.” A hand on his cock, jerking him quick and hard as Brian took them over, and took them through.

Feeling the aftershocks, Brian managed to reach between them and ease out of Michael - a tried smile on his face as Michael murmured an exhausted protest. He hissed softly at the sensitivity of his sex, disposing of the condom before collapsing onto the bed. Answering Michael’s sleep-tinged questioning sigh, Brian pulled him close - more than half way to unconsciousness himself when Michael spoke soft and low.

“Hmmm, wet and sticky….”

A laugh escaping, Brian whispered, “And stuck like glue.“ Words barely said, he succumbed to sleep. Michael held tight at his side.

- - - - - - -

“Good morning, Michael.”

Stopping mid-shuffle across the kitchen floor and blinking past the sleep that still filled his eyes, Michael turned his head in surprise at finding he wasn’t alone. “Shit…you scared me.” Startled at finding Declan standing across from him at the counter, he began to lift his hands to rub wakefulness into his blinking eyes - only to stop just as quick as he’d begun when he remembered…. “Double shit.“ A whispered mumble, a curse escaping as he stood rather sheepishly with his hands still hidden away in the pockets of Brian’s robe.

A robe he was not supposed to be wearing….

A small grin on his lips, Declan shook his head at Michael’s bird-in-headlights expression. It was clear that he’d heard Michael, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he waved Michael over and asked, “Where’s Brian?”

Watching Declan as he turned to continue with his original task, putting more bread in the toaster, Michael hugged himself nervously. “He…. He’s still asleep.” Clearing his throat as he purposefully dropped his arms, he continued, “I was just, ah. Going to get us some breakfast.”

Declan set the timing lever and turned to Michael. Leaning back against the counter, eyes amused and sharp, he took his time looking at his guest before nodding his head towards the refrigerator. “There’s fruit, some cereals in the cupboard. And you’re welcome to have toast; we’ve a large amount of jams from which to choose.” Crossing towards Michael, he stopped with only the island counter between them. “Should serve to satisfy any man’s sweet tooth; especially if he skipped or rather was dragged away before last night’s dessert.”

Feeling his face heat, Michael fought not to look away. Instead, he returned Declan’s gaze, looking over his host in turn.

Declan’s slim body was wrapped in a black silk robe, loosely tied as it framed him to sensual perfection. Hair tussled, black waves falling over his brow and back to his shoulders - he looked as good rolled out of bed as he did at any other time of the day. And his eyes…. They held a charge of wild blue that had Michael wetting his mouth, asking softly, “Ashton?”

Aware of Michael’s nervousness, Declan answered as he turned back and opened a cabinet door. “Still sleeping. He’s a regular night owl. Though I’m sure Brian has the same reason to still be abed as Ash.“ Throwing a smile over his shoulder, he teased, “I’m betting you shag-sapped all his strength.” When Michael ducked his eyes, Declan laughed and returned to making breakfast. Littering the counter with jam jars, he dug out a knife. “Do you like raspberry?”

Straightening his shoulders, trying to speak around his disconcertion, Michael answered. “I do. Uhmm, do you have apple? Brian likes apple.”

Declan nodded and carried two jars to the island. The toaster popped up on his way, so he retrieved the slices - four joining the four he’d already made before Michael came down. Declan opened the jams and began spreading the toast. Silent, letting the moment drag until it held a weight that seemed to call for someone to break it.

“Is he…” Michael swallowed, then started again under Declan’s raised brow. “Ashton, is he really your… Your….”

“My slave?” The way the Irishman said the word, it was intimate - passing his lips in a manner that spoke of something he cherished. Or rather, someone.

Michael nodded, still embarrassed to have asked. Feeling like he was treading on ground too sacred to touch.

Serious, yet soft, he answered, “He is.” He didn’t present it like it was something he had to excuse or justify; instead, Declan continued. “Ash is a submissive, Michael, like you. But unlike you, he was already an experienced player when he came to me. He’d already found many of the answers to questions you may be asking yourself.“ Pausing to look at Michael, Declan said, “In many ways, you’ll find him a mirror to yourself as you continue in your new role. But there is a distinction. Remember, Michael. Different roads...”

Wiping his hands on a hand towel, Declan circled the island and stopped close to Michael. It wasn’t an imposing closeness, more one meant to assure and share. “Whereas you are now Brian’s sub, Ash is that and more to me. He gave himself as a sub to me over ten years ago, and has served my needs ever since. But with time, he discovered he wanted more, that he needed more than his role could give him. That he needed two things more in order to feel complete. Permanence, and ultimate surrender to another’s will. To my will.”

Declan brushed the back of his fingers down the blue silk of Michael’s robe - his touch light, traveling to a stop as he turned and placed his hand flat over Michael’s heart. “His subjugation is one of the two greatest gifts I will ever know. His love was the first.” Caressing the smooth softness of the robe’s lapel - the touch barely grazing Michael’s chest, Declan lowered his chin and looked up through his lashes with a small smile. “So to answer your question again, yes. He has given himself to me, and has formalized our bond with his contracted slavery. I am Master, he is slave. Three years, 24/7, everyday.”

When Michael opened his mouth to speak, shaking his head as if about to protest something - Declan raised his hand. “I know, Michael. I know. Of all the choices you could make, this one isn’t for you. Ash’s needs are greatly varied from your own. He leans more towards extremes, and that’s not something either Brian or I require you to even consider.” Declan offered reassurance, “There are no expectations you need to feel pressured to fulfill. Instead, focus on what you and Brian would enjoy.”

As Michael drew in a breath and nodded, looking more relaxed - Declan’s grin returned. “Speaking of enjoyment….“ He stepped closer still, until they were almost pressed together, black to blue. An inch apart, Declan brushed his fingers softly over Michael’s mouth. “There is more than one way to wake up a man, Michael. And while breakfast in bed is nice, I’m pretty sure that Brian would appreciate waking up to something other than toast between these lips of yours.”

Michael closed his eyes, fighting a moan at the sense memory Declan’s words invoked. His body still ached so sweet, tender and sore from their night together - a night that had had them waking twice more to play. And the more he thought about Declan’s suggestion, the more he wanted to do it. To feel Brian inside him again, to taste him moving over his tongue.

When Michael opened his eyes, Declan was back across the island retrieving the toast that had popped up unnoticed only moments before. Smiling at his own awkward thought of how to say ‘see yah later, I‘m going to go blow my man’ - Michael optioned instead for, “Okay, I… I’m going to head back up.”

He was halfway to the stairs when a sudden jerk at his waist stopped him; leaving him shocked to find Declan at his back and the belt of the robe in the Irishman’s hand. Another yank and the robe fell open to the waist; another and it fell to Michael’s feet. Too sudden and too surprised to protest, Michael was left naked in the light of the morning sun.

Grabbing up the robe with his free hand, Declan threw it over a chair nearby and then held out the forgotten plate of jam spread toast. “Afterwards, take a lazy morning. The only plan for Sundays is to relax. We’ll see you around three; there’ll be sandwiches in the refrigerator when you both want to eat.”

Michael took the dish, feeling the rush of heat as it touched his face and chest. Chagrined at having forgotten the very thing he’d come down for in the first place. That and the reminder that he’d broken the rules. Laughing softly, he said, “At this rate, I’m going to have the complexion of a beet.”

Declan’s fond laugh sounded behind him as Michael quickly ran up the stairs; his pace chorusing the enthusiasm that shone in his smile.

- - - - - - -

Persistent knocking met a distracted Brian’s ears hours later, sounding just barely for all its force over the running water of the shower. A shower he was presently sharing with a man who was taking a very hands-on approach to learning Brian’s hot spots. “Ohh, fuck. Hold, ahh. Hold that thought.” Brian dodged Michael’s talented fingers, stepping out from the bathroom to answer the door.

Naked and wet, and without a thought to any notion of propriety. Not that propriety held any weight given that Brian opened the door to find an equally nude, albeit dry, Ashton Forster.

A highly amused and smiling Ashton Forster, who leaned against the wall with his hip cocked and offered forth something that had Brian raising his eyebrows. “While I’m sure this would prove flattering with my blue eyes, I believe it already has an owner.”

Seeing his own robe folded neatly over Ashton’s arm, Brian called out Michael’s name. With a rueful grin, he took the robe from Ash and turned to wait Michael’s entrance. Stopping as a loud whistle in finest cat-call fashion, broke through the room. Brian looked back at the assessing twinkle in Ashton’s appreciative gaze, laughing as the Englishman shrugged and said, “Like I could help myself considering the view.”

Before Brian could answer back, Michael entered the room but stopped quickly when he saw both their company and the robe. The smile on his face falling as he realized he’d been caught out.

Brian held back his amusement, keeping his face blank. Crossing to Michael, he slowly pulled on the robe - leaving it open down the front and clinging to his wet skin as he crowded Michael against the wall - arms straight, palms to the wall and Michael trapped in between. “Forget to tell me something?”

Meeting Brian’s eyes, Michael nodded - trying to figure out how to explain. It wasn’t like it had been to spite Brian; he’d just gone on instinct. Strange house, going downstairs for food while still sleepy - putting on something was natural for him. Well, that and the admitted part of him that had thought - it’s early, no one would see.

Since he didn’t know what to say, he tried for, “Sorry?”

Face splitting as he lost the war to remain imposing, Brian hid his smile in Michael’s hair and pushed their bodies together - the continuing evidence of his wet and wild resultant erection pressed into Michael’s stomach. Speaking quietly, he teased in a rush of hot words, “Naughty, naughty Novotny. What’s a poor Dom to do to keep this ass in line?” He lowered his hands and ran them over Michael’s hips, then dropped them to his cheeks - enjoying Michael’s deepening breath, and the moan that his touch caused.

Looking over at Ash, who was paying avid attention by the looks of his half hard dick - wait…. Brian’s eyes stayed locked on the other man’s length; particularly to the silver outline that was again encircling Ashton’s flesh. A mischievous expression on his face, Brian turned back from the view and pulled Michael across to the bed. “Lie down…”

Michael shot a look to Ash, then back to Brian. Clearly about to either say something or protest, Michael chose instead to swallow down his second-guessing. He sat on the bed, lying back as Brian stood between his legs. Closing his eyes when Brian said to, Michael heard a drawer open and close. Just when he was about to give in and peek, he gasped aloud. Warm fingers touching him, tracing the soft skin along the length of his penis and over his balls - Michael whimpered softly. His sex stirring but still sensitive from use…

But then the touch changed; Brian’s grip moving from tease to… “Oh shit.”

Eyes popping open, Michael shook as he watched Brian fastening a small measure of torment around his flesh. Black leather, a cock ring that held him tight and high - and which served the main purpose of restricting his ability to….

“Ashton, what’s the longest Declan’s made you go without coming?” Brian asked, his fingers circling gently over the tight skin of Michael’s testicles. Eyes never straying from the sight of Michael clutching the bedding as Brian continued to play.

From behind them, Ash answered, “Twenty-one very long days.” Voice sounding a tad gruff at the memory.

Michael went extremely still, a please-no look on his face that had Brian feeling a sympathetic twinge at the thought himself. Standing Michael up again, Brian hugged him and pulled his hand down between them. Feeling Michael’s touch on his hard-on, he murmured secretly for only Michael to hear, “Not to worry, Mikey. I enjoy hearing you come too much to do that to either of us.” He hummed as Michael stroked him softly, slowly. Then pulled back with reluctance…. “However, for the next few hours it stays on. Understood?”

Cupping himself as Brian loosely tied the robe close, Michael smiled weakly. “Understood.” The word sounding more like ‘Bastard’ than anything else….

Brian responded with a slap to Michael’s butt, then turned to Ash. “So is this where I say, ‘Lead on, MacDuff’?”

Snorting, Ash sauntered down the hall - his response echoing back, “Only if you want to prove yourself a prat on top of being a prick.”

A beat of disbelief, and then all that was left in the Englishman’s wake was Michael’s laughter and Brian’s grin.

- - - - - - -

“The man has his own private sauna. Fuck, I think I might wanna be him when I grow up.”

They were standing on the brink of stepping into the steam filled room; Brian running one hand up Michael’s forearm, the other rubbing at the back of his neck. Declan and Ash already having gone inside. Changing his tone from teasing to quietly intense, Brian spoke. “I like you in nothing but my three rings.” He dropped his hand down Michael’s arm, encircling his cuffed wrist as he continued, “Just picture it. You at the comic store, customers all around and me on your mind. Always feeling me there with these to remind you. Two to see, and one to feel.”

The ring-to-feel grew tighter as Michael responded to Brian’s words. His sex hardening as he listened, Michael gasped out Brian’s name.

Brian looked down between them, eyes half shadowed and growing dark. “I don’t even have to touch you and you’re hard for me.” Pulling Michael in, Brian took his mouth - hungry and quick. Breaking the kiss to say, “That’s fucking hot, Mikey.“

“Shit,” Michael knew in theory that Brian was a master of the game, but knowing was miles away from being the focus of Brian’s sexual seduction. All he wanted to do was drag Brian back up to their room and finish what he’d started, but Michael knew it wasn’t going to happen. So he did what he could in the moment….

Untying the belt of Brian’s robe, Michael shoved it off his lover’s body and pressed against him. Holding him tight with arms around Brian’s waist, Michael buried his face against Brian’s chest. Listening to the rumble of Brian’s chuckle as talented fingers traveled through his hair. Wallowing in the moment….

“Looks like you both could use a breather.”

Turning their heads, they found Declan standing with Ash at his back. The smooth line of their host’s body was visible, bare and moist with sweat as he stood unselfconscious to the room.

Ashton wrapped his arms around Declan’s waist. His chin on Dec’s shoulder. “Shall I get the hose?” His good natured tease turning south as he….

Declan slapped the back of Ash’s downward wandering hand, “Go wet the stones, smartarse.”

Pressing a kiss to his lover’s neck, Ash agreed, “Yes, Master.” He turned to leave, trailing his hand down the length of Declan’s arm before going….

Drawing Brian and Michael’s eyes to the flesh of Declan’s inner right arm. Inked dark into his skin, the only mark he carried on his body was a tattoo. A straight line from elbow to wrist with lettering that neither man could make out in the brief time they had before Declan brought his arm up, crooking his finger to call them to follow into the sauna. His face showed he’d caught them staring; the amusement clear as he said, “Show and tell this way, gentlemen.”

Heat hitting them like a wave, Michael and Brian entered the room. Two levels of wood benches set against the far wall, white tile surrounding - the sauna was small and unassuming. Fresh towels had been thrown over each bench, easing the way for them to sprawl out in comfort.

Declan moved smoothly through the steam, seating himself on the upper level with Ash coming to lie on his back with his head on Declan’s lap. Brian pulled Michael to sit between his legs, leaning against his chest; the two of them straddling the bench, resting in juxtaposition with Brian’s back to the wall.

Soothing his fingers through Ash’s damp hair, Declan said, “This one’s the storyteller….” He smiled at Ashton’s questioning look, “Our guests are curious about our tats, so I thought I’d give you the floor.” When Ash started to sit up and get down, Declan pushed him back into place with a laugh. “Not literally, slave.”

Sticking his tongue out, Ashton settled into his lover’s lap - saying in contrast to his actions, “As Master likes….” Deep breath, and a mischievous grin on his face.… “Once upon a time….”

“Ashton. One warning left….”

Unable it seemed to contain the impulse, Ashton held his hand up to Declan as if to shake. “Hi, I’m a handful. Have we met?”

Declan’s lips twitched but managed to retain his laugh. Instead, he gave Ash’s hair a tug. “That was your last. Anymore, and you’ll be bum-burned before morning.”

Squirming in a way that showed anticipation rather than dread, Ashton cleared his throat. And began again; this time with more of a sense of reverence for his topic. “We’d been together seven years when I asked to be Dec’s slave. On our anniversary, no less. And like the brain-shrinker that he is, he didn’t agree right away. Wanted me to understand the consequences of making the decision. I had weeks of it; talking, discussing and talking some more. When he agreed, I was off-my-head happy. Wanted to jump right into it. But then he threw me a curve.

“See, he wanted to formalize the bond. Had contracts drawn, planned a ceremony for just us two. I was chuffed to bits; then he told me the rest. He was making us wait seven days. A week apart, no contact in any way. Said he wanted me to have time to reflect on my decision. Which translated to be sure because there was no backing out later.” He looked up at Declan, then back to Michael and Brian. “Was a bit pissed at having to wait, but more so because I already knew I’d decided. It was what I’d been wanting for years…. So anyway, by day three I was going mad. Wanting to be with him, to at least talk to him but I held out like he wanted. And it gave me time to think.

“There’s a tradition in the scene; one that I wanted to embrace for Declan. The giving of a master’s gift…. Something that signified permanence. And these…” he held up his inked wrists for closer view, “were my gift.”

Three inches round. The designs were intricate, beautiful, but left a question…

One that Michael voiced as he looked at the lettering, “What do they say?”

Ash smiled, again looking up at his lover as he finished his story. “I wanted them to be intimately connected to him, to his heritage. Father - Russian. Mother - Irish. The right says Declan, in Cyrillic letters. The left is the Irish form of his name, Deaglán, in Gaelic script. Permanent bands to mark Dec’s ownership over me, freely given. The choice to give up my choice, freely made.”

The moment signified in silence. No words passed for the longest as Declan and Ash remained lost in the moment, seeing only each other.

Michael looked up, his attention drawn away when Brian threaded their fingers together. The two of them sharing a moment of their own; one built on history. History and love.

Sharing until they were pulled back by Ashton’s quick trip to re-wet the stones; the steam rising behind him with a hiss as he returned.

Brian spoke to both his and Michael’s continuing curiosity, nodding his head towards Declan. “So what’s your part of the story?”

Declan started to answer, mouth open and his words just about to sound when Ashton broke his lover’s concentration. Curling over, his face pressed in at Declan’s waist - Ashton pulled Declan’s arm straight, opening it to view, and leaned in to lick, softly, smoothly, alone the inner bend of the Irishman’s arm. One lick, two. The third ending with Declan’s shuddered moan, his free hand buried in Ashton’s hair - holding him still as if more would be too much. “No, dar…. Darkling, don’t.”

With obvious pleasure at having succeeded in tearing through Dec’s dominant shield, Ashton teased lightly, “Ohhhh, you said the D-word.”

Wiping his clinging black curls off his forehead, Declan laughed - giving Michael and Brian a small look of exasperation that didn’t read in his eyes. “He’s enjoying playing up being a saucy sprite. Mix that in with the other-worldly talent of his tongue; and the nick makes better sense.” Reaching down, Dec made a quick grab for the closest of Ash‘s nipple rings - rolling it once, then pulling on it with just enough tension to made his slave moan in turn, both with desire and the understood warning.

Holding his arm out like Ash had done before, Declan let them see. There were four letters - each over an inch high, running in a straight line down his inner arm; beginning just below the spot that Ash at teased and ending just over Declan’s wrist. The letters beautifully etched, each was designed as a hollow outline with a leaf housed in the center.

N - U - I - N

“Nuin is a Druidic word. It means Ash, as in the Ash tree. Known as the Tree of Life; found throughout early Druidic, Nordic and Irish mythology. The tattoo was my answer to Ashton’s gift; and represents Ash’s place in my life, as both my center and my universal truth.”

The words barely said; Ashton ran his fingers along the mark, murmuring, “He gave it me on our first anniversary as Master and slave; had it done while I watched. Don’t even remember how long it took. All I can recall is the look in his eyes, staring through the pain - seeing me so clear, knowing me so well.” Lying back, he closed his eyes and hugged Declan’s arm across his chest - three words passing with a sigh, “It was amazing.”

The end of the story found Michael in a similar position to Ash; both of Brian’s arms crossed around him, Michael holding tight. Holding onto the one man in his life, in his world, that had ever made him feel….

Encompassed.

The power of recognition had its impact; Michael blinked back against the watering of his eyes. Feeling the emotion rising, but managing to keep it at bay within Brian’s arms.

That is until he heard Brian’s voice in his ear, letters said in an intimate progression - each pressed closer and closer to his ear for only him to hear. “A. L. W. A. Y. S.”

And the tears did fall, silently as Michael closed his eyes - the moisture getting lost with the sweat that covered his face.

Lost, but not unknown as Brian turned Michael’s face to his and took him with a kiss. Took the man, took the heart and savored the taste of love.

- - - - - - -

Michael and Ashton’s giggles bounced off the tiles as they rounded the corner; Michael shaking his head and saying, “You wanna repeat that….”

“Dommie-Day.” He turned to watch Michael holding a hand to his mouth, still laughing. “So called just because it drives Dec nuts.”

The two of them were still wet from the dipping pool. They’d left Brian and Declan sitting in the cool water - Ashton still pondering his coming punishment for making a ball-shrinkage remark to his Master, and Michael still buzzed from having Brian replace his cuffs and cock-ring that had been removed before they’d all sat in the waist deep square built pool at floor level next to the sauna room.

Following Ashton to the adjacent room, Michael looked around in amazement. “Wow, this is something.” The room was designed in an Eastern motif; wooden screens along the walls intricately carved, wooden floors covered in mats that would have called for the removal of shoes had they been wearing them, silk banners of china red and gold dragons covering the far wall. It was almost like a temple, but not - as evidenced by the large round black marbled tub that took up half the room; again built into the floor so that you had to step down into it.

Ashton murmured agreement, “Uhmm huhhh. It’s like a geisha wet dream. Dec thought I’d lost my mind when I mentioned the idea but he let me go wild regardless.” He knelt down and turned on the taps, letting the tub fill as he moved to sit with his feet in the tub, leaning back on his hands. “Anyway, I call Sunday’s Dommie-Day because it’s usually a time for me to pamper Declan and enjoy myself making him melt into a puddle. It’s a day when he lets me plan ways to play caretaker. And I enjoy having him all to myself - no thoughts for work or patients. Just him and me, you know.”

Michael sat down, crossing his legs Indian style so that his groin wasn’t on display - he’d yet to get used completely to being nude, but found it to be more disconcerting when Brian wasn’t there, than when he was… “We must seem like party crashers.” He turned to Ashton, “Sorry about that.”

Ashton reassured, “Michael, there’s nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you’ve come. It’s incredible; watching you both together. Seeing you experience each other.” Grinning he added, “Believe me, it’s as titillating from the gallery as I’m sure it is from the stage.”

Michael’s lips quirked as a smile followed hard upon a blush. He cleared his throat, asking, “So what happens next on Dommie-Day?” He couldn’t even say it without laughing.

“That is entirely up to you. It’s the one day of the week in which the sub is allowed, or rather, is expected to devise the day. You get to decide what you think Brian would enjoy. What you would like giving him, doing with him.”

Michael looked around the room for a long moment, thinking about the possibilities for pampering when it hit him. He turned back to Ashton, who was adding spiced oil to the water and turning the jets on low. “I’ve got an idea, but it could get messy.”

Ashton clapped his hands together, as if saying goodie. “All good plans should, darling. All good plans should.”

- - - - - - -

“Fuck, fuck… Oh, fuck. Yeahhh….”

Brian groaned, loudly. His voice escaping control, literally worked out of him by Michael’s persistent talented hands.

At first skeptical of why he was supposed to lie ass to the wind, Brian had taken one look at Michael’s eager expression and he’d thrown away the reticence and plopped down. Lying on the bath sheet that had been spread out on the floor beside the tub, he’d had the perfect view of Declan and Ash - watching the two settling in the bath as Dom leaned back against his slave. Watching as Ashton soothed his hands over his lover’s body, washing Dec with great care and attention. Watching until Michael’s touch came down upon him and all thought to the fabulous view waned under the need to feel more of the same.

Oil, spiced and warm, flowed down his spine and over his thighs - followed hard upon by Michael’s hands. A slide, a press, a circling of palms from neck to waist, waist to thighs, thighs to feet. No inch of him left undone. It was wonderful; it was good. And then with great surprise and delight, it became more….

“Ahhh, huh.” Fingers changed out to arms, forearms running down his back and over his ass. Then arms to legs, shins and thighs rubbing over his own. And finally Michael’s chest, circling down and over his behind and up his back until Michael was covering him fully - pressed tight from the shoulders down as he undulated and writhed over Brian’s body, thrusting his hard-on into the warmth and friction of Brian’s oil slicked skin.

It was then that Brian began to curse, sounding his pleasure as his body shuddered and jerked - Michael’s hand pushed down between them, rolling and pulling on Brian’s balls until Brian could do nothing but come, spraying wet beneath them as his body cascaded into melted limbed bliss.

Coming down from the high, Brian opened his eyes and rubbed his ass against the feel of Michael’s aching length - laughing as Michael gasped and gripped his arms to stay atop him. Brian settled down again, enjoying the weight of Michael on his back. Turning his eyes to the tub, he murmured, “Look at them, Mikey. Look at what you helped do….”

Resting his head on Brian, breath still ragged as he fought to come back from the edge of the leap he wasn’t allowed to take, Michael did look. Looked to find he couldn’t look away.

Jets running, water warm - Declan arched against Ash, his eyes open and lashes low as he sat caught between the delicious pull of two torments. His head lolled back into Ashton’s wondrous hands as his slave massaged his scalp, his neck and washed his hair. A delicious torment, that. Added with the other; the cause of his gasps and moans - this time the touch his own. Declan’s self pleasuring evident by the motion of his arm and the look on his face. His hips thrusting, driving up into his own hand as he continued to watch his guests at play. As he followed them, retaining his control only for a few moments more - losing it finally, grasping desperately at the man who held him - Declan’s free arm thrown back to hold on to Ash as he shot with a groan. His eyes only then closing, content to lie weakly in the strength of Ashton’s arms.

Lying there still as Ashton smiled softly; smiled and poured water gently through his hair until all traces of shampoo were gone…. Turning to kiss his lover as Ash nuzzled his neck, fingers tangled in the soft black that fell around their faces - hiding them from view.

As Declan turned to Ash; the two getting lost in each other again - Michael pressed his face into the back of Brian’s neck. Inhaling the scent of spice, sweat, sex and him. Body shaking just a bit, emotion high and desire still zinging through his blood, he murmured, “I want to be with you, lie in bed with you.” Lifting up to meet Brian’s eyes, he whispered, “Take me?”

One look, the glance almost physical, and Brian agreed with a nod. Surprised to find that words, for once, would not come. And were not needed….

- - - - - - -

Part 7

- - - - - - -

“Awww… No, no, stop!” The yell, the shout sounded through the foyer; Michael’s laughter contradicting his words as he rushed through the entrance with Brian on his heels. Running from Brian’s grasping hands, Michael made a side-stepping dash and sprinted across the great room - the bang of the front door being slammed shut by Brian following in his wake.

The chase on, Brian ran after him - making grabs only to come up with air or the edge of Michael’s coat. A coat that Michael quickly shimmied out of, almost succeeding in his escape until Brian caught up with him and spun Michael around, holding him caught in his arms.

Before the fire, breathless and panting from play - they stood. The morning waned unnoticed through the windows behind them; time having blended together from the moment they’d awoken lazy and slow, comfortable to lie and look. To know one another with a new ease.

Sometime later, they’d made a quick trip to the kitchen for food before Brian had surprised Michael with a trip outside - fully clothed, of course, continuing the day in the absence of their hosts. The idea being to take a walk, get a better look around. The reality ending with them both getting frisky, thrilling in the fresh albeit sharp cold air - the two reduced to boyish snowball throwing and tumbles in the snow.

Not that Brian had let Michael out of the house without a rather fitting, and fitted, reminder of their new roles. As Michael was prompt to recall when Brian threw off his own coat and began to slowly, pointedly remove Michael’s clothing one button at a time. The warmth of the fire’s flame, and the look in Brian’s eyes heated Michael’s blood. Drawing his focus down; down to what lie beneath his jeans. Or rather, to what he was wearing under them by Brian’s province, and Declan’s design.

Black, square cut across his hips and upper thighs like boxer briefs - they resembled a pair of swim trunks, the material almost the same. Tight, molding his every curve. But with a difference. A very restrictive, confining difference. Custom-crafted, the fabric hid the leather straps underneath - straps that resembled a jock but served instead as a harness to Michael’s sex. Made to house his balls, forward and high to accentuate the bulge; the length of his shaft was pulled up and tight to his body, held immobile and bound.

Serving its purpose as Michael squirmed, prevented from getting hard even as he grew more and more aroused. Brian’s hands had sought him out multiple times since he’d put the outfit on; each time causing Michael to moan, struggling through the delicious tease, and the titillating torment of denial. Leaving him hyperaware and wanting despite the distraction of the snow.

A puddle of clothing at his feet, Michael remained still as Brian circled him. His breath catching as Brian’s hands smoothed down his back and around his hips, coming to a stop with a palm at his waist and the other cupping his groin. Brian’s voice sounding against his neck….

“Just one pull, Mikey. One. And you’ll be popping a boner the second I slide these down your thighs. I like knowing that.” His words growing lower, breathy and hot. “I like it a lot.”

When Michael tried to turn around - his need to touch or kiss Brian overriding his control, Brian stopped him with a tight hug from behind. “Ahh ah. Behave yourself, behave.”

Groaning, Michael peered back at the taller man. Saying with a laugh, “I thought you liked it when I misbehaved. Since you’re so often the cause.”

Hiding his grin in Michael’s hair, Brian gave Michael’s butt a swat. “Wiseass.” He walked around to face Michael, his fingers teasing along the edge of the black fabric. Pulling it slowly, inch by inch away from Michael’s waist, he said in a seductive tone, “What’s the magic word?”

Gasping in surprise as he was jerked forward, pulled against Brian’s body, Michael managed to answer, “Ple…. Please.”

Humming in response, Brian asked, “Please do what, Mikey?” His eyes flashing with a hungry glint. “Take ‘em off? Leave ‘em alone? You’re gonna have to tell me what you want?”

“You, I want you.” Breath quickening, eyes wide and trusting, “I want to give you what you want.”

Sucking in air as Michael’s words burned through him, hotter than hot, Brian found himself leaning in to kiss him. Feeling Michael moan as he pulled down on the fabric encasing Michael from his touch; feeling the rise and heat of Michael’s cock as it hardened quick and true between them as they continued to kiss.

“Oh, he IS a sweet talker.” Ashton’s words broke through the haze of Michael and Brian’s senses, causing them to end their kiss - a satisfied smile on Brian’s lips, a groan from Michael as he hid his face against Brian’s chest. Neither of them having seen the Englishman sitting on a chaise in one corner of the room, covered by only a burgundy throw over his lap with a book in his hands.

Ruffling Michael’s hair with affection, Brian addressed their voyeur. “What are you reading?”

Giving the cover of his book a cursory glance, Ash said, “’One Hundred And One Ways To Please Your Man: An Idiot’s Guide To Passive Aggression For The Gay Submissive‘.” He’d barely gotten through his own joke before cracking a smile and laughing. Turning the book towards them, he answered truthfully, “It’s called ’Narcissus In Chains’ - one of the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter books by Laurell Hamilton. My guilty pleasure. I’m a bit of a nut for vampires.” He chucked the book down and threw off the throw before standing. “Dec is finishing up in his darkroom; said to tell you to meet him on the stairs at two o’clock.” Turning to go to the kitchen, he looked back over his shoulder - hip cocked and ass on full view. “Off to grab a bite.” He left laughing at his own bad pun.

Shaking his head in amusement, Brian’s focus turned back to Michael. Feeling him shiver as Brian’s snow covered jeans came in contact with Michael’s bare skin. “Hey. Let’s go up. Have a quick shower to get you warm.”

When Brian turned to lead him upstairs, Michael gripped his hand and gave it a tug. Biting his lip, he tried to speak despite the tightness of his throat. “Brian. I….” He knew that today would be their first ‘scene’ and he didn’t know what to expect. He’d never felt such a mix of anticipation and ….

“Feeling a little nervous?” Brian could read it clear on Michael’s face. As his lover nodded, Brian brushed his hand up Michael’s neck and cupped his face. “Michael, if you’ve changed your mind, we’ll stop. I’m not going to do anything to scare you, nothing to you that you don’t want. Just say the word and we’ll go.” Seeing the protest coming, he added, “Together, Mikey. Leaving this behind won’t change what we are now; it won’t make you any less mine.”

Smiling now, Michael paid no heed to Brian’s cold clothing. Instead he hugged Brian, embraced by him in kind. Embraced and lifted up for a moment as Brian held him inches off the ground, Michael laughing as he was put back onto his feet. Their arms still locked, Michael closed his eyes and then opened them to find Brian’s own. Eyes locked, he murmured the words that most filled his heart. “I love you.”

Kissing him softly, Brian then tightened his arms - holding Michael close as he whispered in his hair, “I do, too. Mikey. I do too.”

Pulling back, Michael smiled - a naughty light in his eyes. “You said something about getting hot and wet in confined spaces?”

Brian let his hands travel down, circling his palms over Michael’s curves. “Memory does serve, yeah. I take it we’re staying then?”

Michael smiled, nodding his head before turning to dash up the stairs. Brian fast on his heels, unable to resist trailing a pace behind.

Understandable, considering the view….

- - - - - - -

Spot-lit from above, the light shone down in a soft amber hue - embracing just the three of them. The rest of the large expanse remained in the dark, in the attic that was home to Declan’s playroom. Locked when they were not in residence, it was open and laid out in welcome to his guests. The areas surrounding, divided by lights now unlit, instead of by walls - each for a separate purpose, or form of play. But faded back; the only space needed now centered amongst the rest - the light setting a boundary of focus beyond which neither Brian nor Michael looked to breach.

Their clearest view being each other‘s face….

“Still okay?” Brian’s words were laced with warmth, with his own response to Michael’s circumstance.

Seated astride a large wide leather upholstered bench with an upright back rest that rose up a few inches above his head, Michael released a staggered sigh and nodded. Feeling just this side of overwhelmed, he moaned as Brian leaned in and kissed him, brief and sweet. Moaned because he wanted to move into the touch but couldn’t. Moaned because not being able to only heightened his body’s response.

They’d come up the private stairs only a short while before; following Declan as he turned the key and proceeded. Declan first, dressed with a difference in black linen trousers with a sleeveless vest - leather, tight and buttoned to the neck with a mandarin collar that left only his face and arms bared. Brian second, wearing black leather pants molded to his body with nothing in between; shirtless, it was the only garment he wore. And third, Michael - nude but for his cuffs; their weight a reminder that anticipation could feel almost tangible.

Led through the room past things they could not see, they had stopped in the center. The bench framed in the light. It was in an L-shaped design - though the seat was longer than the backrest; allowing as Michael was soon to find, for two men to sit in comfort. Brian’s nod and guiding hand had Michael seated, legs straddling the bench as he sat upright; the feel of leather at his back. Once settled, Brian had turned to face Michael - sitting so near that he had lifted Michael’s thighs to rest atop his own; their bodies fitted together, the feel of smooth leather touching Michael’s skin from neck to thighs while the heat of Brian’s legs cushioned and anchored Michael close.

Looking from Brian to Declan, Michael had waited with little patience to find out what was coming next. Not that either man was unaware of the energy that was brewing under the surface, as was clear when Brian had nodded to Declan and had held out his hand. “He’s ready.” Walking into the dark for only a moment, Declan had returned - giving Brian that for which he‘d asked.

Holding it up for Michael to see, Brian ran his hands over the two cuffs and the adjustable strap that connected them. He watched Michael’s eyes widen as he realized what might be coming next. “They’re not for your wrists.” Trailing his fingers up Michael’s arm, Brian murmured, “Remember my belt?”

Voice not working on the first try, Michael replied on the second, “Yes.”

Declan’s voice, firm but kind, sounded, “Yes, Sir. You must show your Dominant the proper respect in a scene, Michael.”

Shooting his gaze from Dec back to Brian, seeing the light in his lover’s eyes and the lift in his lips - Michael answered again, “Yes, Sir.” Surprised to find the word a more intimate form of address than he’d known it to be with anyone else in his life.

Brian smiled softly, feeling his own blood humming in reaction. Unbuckling the cuffs, he continued. “We’re going to start with a bit of what you already know you’re comfortable with; I’m going to restrain you, bind you to the chair.” He slid the cuffs on one at a time, threading the strap behind the backrest and fastened each high on Michael’s arms - just under his shoulders. “Declan’s going to adjust it so that you can’t move.”

Feeling the pull on the cuffs, the bite of them holding him tight . . . their presence known, but without pain - Michael closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Already feeling the raw emotion that had accompanied him on the few times he’d let anyone tie him, restrain him in any way. Caught, possessed and hot with the wickedness of his current state, he tried to move against them - enjoying the moment when it was most clear that he would be unable to alter his capture without Brian’s consent. Or by the use of the one word that was farthest from his mind….

“Still okay?” Brian’s concern had Michael opening his eyes again, and nodding. A moan of almost something akin to thanks passing from him as Brian rewarded him with a kiss.

“So eager, he is…. You’re very fortunate, Brian.”

Not looking away from Michael’s face, his own expression speaking to the certainty and trade-mark conceit he was known for - Brian agreed with their host, “I know.” He brushed another kiss over Michael’s moist lips, telling him, “Grip the edge of the seat and don’t let go.” Sitting back, he watched - pleased as Michael followed his instructions.

His own hands clutching the leather that cushioned Michael’s head, Brian leaned in until Michael was practically in his lap. Leaned in and hovered a kiss over Michael’s face; his lips traveled the line of Michael’s jaw but never touched. His closeness mixed with Michael’s capture causing the bound man to shake, his blood traveling south with a speed that left Michael flushed and hard.

A whisper as Brian brushed lips over Michael’s ear, “Do you want me to touch you?”

A whisper back, “Yes. Sir.” The last added in afterthought, almost forgotten in the distraction that was Brian.

A grin, and then Brian was there - breathing hot, blowing softly over Michael’s mouth. “Not - quite - yet.“ Each word said was punctuated by the passage of another heated sweep that came close to contact, but never found purchase. At Michael’s soft sound of protest, Brian pulled away. “One more thing before I do, Mikey. One more thing….”

It was on Michael’s tongue, the word anything - but it never sounded. Instead Declan came to stand at their sides, face half in shadow as he started to speak. “We’re adding a new element into play, Michael. First,” his fingers waved over the arm cuff nearest him, “begin with what you know; something that serves your needs. Then,” he nodded to Brian, “change things up just a bit with something new.”

A finger under Michael‘s chin, drawing his eyes back, and Brian added, “A little something to center your focus. Coming - right - up….” A smirk on his lips, Brian leaned back on one hand and arched his hips. Reaching down, his fingers digging lewdly inside his low slung pants until he caught the edge of what he’d gone in to find. A tug, a pull and then with a jerk it came free. Brian’s prize, held up for Michael’s eyes. Black silk, a blindfold clutched in his hand. The fabric was wrinkled from being stuffed in at Brian’s groin, intentionally housed there and now scented with him…. “I want you to know it’s me touching you,“ a soft kiss over both of Michael’s eyes, and then Brian tied the silk in place - cutting off his view. “That with every breath, you know I’m here.”

Vision gone, Michael floated in the moments that followed. The passage of nothing said, and only the touch of Brian’s legs to ground him. He gripped the bench; his own breath roaring in his ears, eyes watering and skin shining with a cool sheen of sweat. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable, just feeling off kilter in a strangely energized way. It was like everything was sharper, new.

And then there was touch; there was heat. There was Brian’s hands running up his legs, rubbing just there over that spot on his inner thigh that had Michael jerking - groaning when the cuffs held him tight; caught as Brian continued to play. Groaning again when he inadvertently let go of the bench to reach out for Brian, only to have the back of his hand popped and firmly guided back to where he’d just let go.

“Learn, Michael. Learn to accept your Dominant’s wishes; learn control over your baser instincts when they counter his will. His word is law, his voice your guide.”

Face turned towards the direction of Declan’s voice, Michael nodded. Then started when Brian’s teeth nipped at his ear, lips moving over the shell of it as Brian spoke.

“Do you remember the first time, Mikey? The first time I blindfolded you; the first time I guided you blind.”

Unable to move his head back as Brian continued to lick and kiss his neck, Michael whispered, “Yes. I… Yes, Sir. The baths… You tricked, uhmm. Took me there the first time.”

Brian chuckled, the sound burning up and down Michael’s spine. “And you didn’t let a man touch you all night, just stood in your little towel and watched from the dark.” A lick, a soft soft soft brush of lips over Michael’s mouth, and then Brian added, “I was there in the shadows, watching you watching them. Knowing that I was the one you were looking for….“

“Brian,” Michael’s voice admonished even as it sounded, filled with a bashful thrill.

“Tisk, tisk. Not Brian, Mikey. Still, Sir….” Brian teased, leaning back as Michael ducked his head - nodding as he smiled in chagrin for having been caught out again.

Declan walked around to Michael’s back; his look telling Brian that it was time for more.

Brian held up a hand first, indicating they would wait until he had the answer to his next question. “Who was the last man to blindfold you? Who was the last one to hold your trust enough for you to agree?”

Hesitating, the answer came only after a span of time as Michael worked up the courage to say what he thought would be seen as pathetic. Embarrassed by the lack, but answering with the truth. “It’s only been you. I didn’t want to try with anyone that wasn’t….”

“That wasn’t what?”

“That wasn’t you.”

With a hunger raging borderline with his willingness to continue the scene, Brian answered the emotion of Michael’s admission in the best form of communication he knew. The physical…

Kissed to the point of light-headedness, Michael pulled away to breathe - his lips sensitized, feeling each kiss just that much more for all the added focus he could pay without sight. Like the kisses that were hard, wet and desperate in the dark. Shattering equilibrium until one is left weak, yet hard.

So fucking hard, but still not allowed to touch in return. Only allowed to take what was given, to know what Brian wanted him to know.

It was amazing, intense and strong. And they hadn’t even done much, well . . . yet.

Which as Brian gave Declan a nod, was about to change.

“Declan’s going to unlatch the backrest…. As it goes back, so will you. Just like lying down in bed, easy and slow.” He let his fingers travel a lazy line down the center of Michael’s chest, “I want you laid out for me. 1 - 2 - 3.” Working to keep Michael from fearing a fall, Brian leaned in over him and followed the motion until the bench was secured by the folding support housed in the back.

They ended with Michael on his back, fully secured still by the arm cuffs; their strap having been fed under the support thanks to Declan’s forethought. Brian above, hovering over but not touching Michael anywhere but for Michael’s thighs still astride his own. The position comfortable, like resting back on a wide weight bench. Leaving Michael free of disorientation; only the question of what next ringing through his head.

Then came the answer as Declan spoke, seemingly as if he had read Michael’s mind. “Sense play. One sense, or more, is hindered or controlled while your Dominant plays with the rest. It’s a good place to begin, and helps establish tolerance limits.”

Brian’s laugh followed hard upon, then his voice again ringing in Michael’s ear. “Wanna put that in laymen’s terms?”

Amused, Declan grinned at Brian. Shaking his head as he answered, “In the words of my favored and often overindulged slave, Brian’s about to play your body like a violin. Plucking all the right strings till you sing.”

Listening to the two Dominants chuckling together, Michael tried not to squirm. But there was something about the sound of them, two men sounding self-satisfied and powerful, sharing a laugh - that had Michael feeling equal parts specimen and main course. A thought quickly forgotten as Brian pressed him down and took another kiss, whispering low - saying dark, heated things that had Michael moaning in protest when Brian pulled away.

Fingers on his lips, warm and soft . . . tracing his mouth as Brian murmured, “What’s the word?”

Michael answered, “Please.” Taking a little of his own back as he ended the word with a lick across Brian’s fingertips.

A move that had Brian pausing to rub his thumb over the same patch of skin, inhaling sharply as the memory of Michael’s lips and tongue playing over and around his cock flashed through his mind. He shook his head and turned to look at Declan, who was clearly amused but unsurprised.

Pulling out two objects from his pants pocket, Declan grinned - shadows playing over his face, adding a touch of menace to his look that was toned down by the sound of amusement in his voice as he said, “You should see Ash’s version of dirty pool.”

Taking the items in hand, Brian raised an eyebrow and reminded his host, “Seems like we got a bit of that just yesterday. ‘Darkling’ was it?“ He smiled at Declan’s snort, both men sharing a good natured look for all their posturing - one powerful man to another.

“Yes, a point to which I do concede.” Declan gave a nod, indicating that he was going to stand back in the dark. Allowing more intimacy, even if in only appearance rather than reality. Giving ground to Brian’s role as Dominant, even he continued on as observer.

Michael held still in the silence that then wade in over him, the weight of anticipation growing heavier with the passage of time. Trying to fight against his own need to question what was in store. Telling himself to trust and accept, but still feeling adrift in the unknown. He wanted Brian’s touch, his hands and mouth. He wanted….

“Ahh,” gasping out, Michael started. Surprised at the glide of something smooth and soft against his skin. Then again surprised by an altering caress, this one more tactile and rough. Each of the two sensations being applied to opposite sides of his body. A touch at his throat, a press and circle over his ribs. A long slow pull from his nipple to the top of his thigh…. Each motion repeated thereafter on the other side, counter to its origins. First smooth on the right, then more friction and pull on the left. The movement never ceasing on the journey to leaving no part of his skin untouched. Save for the one part that ached for it the most…

His focus ever changing, the touches never lasting long enough to help him feel grounded - Michael held onto the only solid thing he could. His fingers clutched the bench until his knuckles shown white. He lay panting as he tried to tell what was touching him, what it was that was causing him to feel so crazed and what the difference between the two could be. Michael tried to push up into every brush or slide; trying to make contact with the pleasure for more than the second or moment he was being allowed.

The need rising within him was so fucking desperate that he couldn’t reason what it was he wanted anymore. For it to stop, for it to continue, for more or for the end. He wanted and was wanton, as the spill of his frustration wetted the silk that covered his eyes. Sweat and moisture that was something akin to tears leaking from beneath his tightly closed eyes….

He didn’t know he was shaking. He didn’t know that he was moaning in a stream of tattered pleas. Never having been brought to the point of feeling so much, in so many ways, so fast.

So intent on what he was making Michael feel, Brian turned with a jerk as Declan touched him on the shoulder. A flash of something in Brain’s eyes, anger? Annoyance? It was gone as soon as he actually listened to the reason for the Irishman’s interference.

“Pull the blindfold. He’s closing in on sensory overload. The disorientation will drown out the pleasure. Giving him back his sight will help level out the intensity so that pleasure is all that’s left.”

Brian had barely begun to reach for the silk before Declan again made his presence scarce. Stepping away as Brian freed Michael’s eyes.

All movement ceased, Michael shifted restlessly and then gasped as he felt the blindfold removed. He blinked rapidly, trying to see past his wet lashes as his eyes adjusted to the light again. Raising his head a little off the bench, Michael found Brian - feeling himself, his emotions, coming back to center as he looked upon his lover again. It was one thing to know who was touching him; it was another to be able to watch it occur. To see the emotion and hunger in Brian’s eyes.

Running his hands up Michael’s thighs, Brian said, “Feel good?” He smiled as Michael’s attention shifted to seek out what had been the cause of his pleasure. Brian held his hands up, bringing them to Michael’s face so that he could connect what he saw with how they felt.

Gloves, two separate kinds molded to each hand. On the left, one made of satin - black. The palm and fingers now moistened wet by the sweat of Michael’s body. Designed formally, buttoned at Brian’s wrist. On the right, a leather half glove - also black. One that strapped around Brian’s wrist, covering his fingers and the top half of his hand but left the palm free. The leather thin, and smooth to the touch.

With a rueful laugh, Michael muttered, “Damn, you look good in those.” Then groaned as Brian drew the gloves down to pull at his hard nipples, rolling the peaked nubs until he was saying, “Please,” again.

“Please what, Mikey? Touch you, fuck you? Tell me what you want me to do?”

His body clenched tight, nerves becoming frayed; all Michael could think about was coming. All he could want was to rush to the climax that was being even now delayed.

All he could want; all he…he, him, his…

But wait. A memory in Michael’s head, a voice he’d heard only days before. Saying words he now echoed, their meaning now felt more intimately than he could have realized till now. “If it please, Sir. Please. If it please you.” Hoarse and heartfelt, they left him - leaving the how, the what to the man he’d given himself to. Trusting Brian to know for them both.

Hearing Michael, seeing the haze of…. “God, Mikey.“ Of submission glazed over Michael’s face; Brian had to check himself, trying desperately to hold himself above and away from his baser nature so that he could give Michael it all. So he could make it about Michael, for Michael.

Hands lowered; flesh hard and wet from want, now held in the grip of Brian’s hot palm and leather clad fingers. And lower still, balls full and tight to the body as they were cupped and caressed; rolled by a satin hand. The strokes sped quick and strong, milking Michael towards the brink. Brian’s voice calling him home. “Give it to me, come on. I want it. Need it. Do it. Fuck, do it now!”

Shouting, Michael did just that. Head pressed back, mouth open and eyes closed; his body seized with a force that stole his sight in yet another way - his field of visions now sparks and stars. Body wet, slick with sweat and now his own seed, Michael floated. Floated and shook, as he lay in the aftermath. Lost to the room while riding the high.

Slumped over, head to Michael’s chest - Brian blinding stripped off the gloves and closed his eyes. His cock was trapped and hard, his breathing ragged. More than a little euphoric in his own right. Staying there until he heard Declan say his name.

“Brian.” Crouching down, Declan smiled warmly as Brian turned to look at him. Aware that his guest would probably be feeling both protective and possessive of Michael, he held up a hand and said in a soothing tone, “I’m going to unfasten the strap, and then I’m going to leave. Take all the time you need, all right?”

Left a bit wordless given the experience, Brian gave a nod and watched as Declan did as he’d said. Eyes turning back to Michael once the strap was released, he didn’t turn away again - even with the sound of Declan’s shoes passing over the hardwood floor. And the closure of the door behind him.

Michael’s flushed face, his eyes closed and expression wondrous - having become Brian’s focal point.

And his realm of reality….

- - - - - - -

Drowsy and still clinging to sleep, Michael muttered a questioning sound. Soft, something soft being smooth up his legs. Fabric being pulled up his thighs. “Wha… Hmm. Bri?”

“Shhh, lift up. Just a little. That’s right.” Brian’s voice, calling him to closer clarity as Michael did as he said. The cloth settled up to his waist, he was awake enough then to realize it was pajama bottoms he was feeling against his skin.

The sensation was weird after so many days of being free.

Frowning in the dark, Michael shifted in the bed and reach out a hand for Brian. Nothing beside him, Brian’s side of the bed bare. “Brian?”

Brian drew back the canopy drape he’d closed around them the night before after they’d returned to their room, feeling drunk on each other and wanting only to be together - close and enclosed. Sitting on the side of the bed, he answered. “I’m here.”

Michael blinked against the early morning gray that shown through the window and filled the room. “You’re dressed? It’s still early, isn‘t it?”

Soothing a hand down Michael’s side, Brian agreed. “Yeah, you should go back to sleep.” He smiled at Michael’s contented murmur.

“Come back to bed.”

“Can’t.” Brian leaned in and nuzzled Michael’s neck, breathing in his scent. Whispering, “I’ve got to take a ride back into the Pitts. Checked my messages; Cynthia said Ryder’s having a cow. Some client mix up I need to help fix.” Looking up, he saw Michael’s face. “Hey, I’ll be back before nightfall. No worries.”

“But I could…”

“You will stay here. You’ve got a free ticket to laze around, sleep in and eat till you pop.” He made to tickle Michael’s side, laughing when his hand was batted away. “I’m sure I can come up with SOME-thing to burn off the calories when I get back.”

Shifting to sit up, Michael ran his palms down the sleep pants he wore. “And these?”

“Thought I’d give you a little space while I was gone. Figured you’d be more comfortable with, than without while I‘m not here.”

Michael remained thoughtful, staring down at his hands. Then he nodded, agreeing. When Brian stood, Michael grabbed hold of his wrist. “You gonna take ‘em off me as soon as you get back, right?”

Brian jerked Michael to his chest, using the smaller man’s grip against him. Sliding his warm hand down the back of the pants, Brian ran his fingers over Michael’s crease. “Ahh yeah, baby. Without a fucking doubt.” It wasn’t until he was mid-kiss with Michael moaning against his mouth that Brian realized what he’d said.

Something that hadn’t escaped Michael’s attention either. The kiss ending as he buried his face against Brian’s shoulder, fingers holding tight to the taller man’s sweater. “You just called me ‘baby.’”

Closing his eyes, Brian agreed in a gruff tone. “I know.”

Reply muffled, Michael dropped his hands to encircle Brian’s waist. “I liked it.”

Clearing his throat against the emotion he felt, Brian had to admit. “I did, too.” The greatest realization coming when he realized how NOT scared that made him to say.

Pulling back, Brian took Michael’s hands one by one into his own. Unfastening the cuffs and removing them from Michael’s wrists, he traced the fading marks. Glad to see they were healing; thinking they would have disappeared all together by the time he took Michael home.

“They’re gone. The others….” Michael’s words drawing Brian close again to kiss his brow.

“The day’s yours, Mikey. Come tonight, I’ll be putting the cuffs back where they belong.”

Mood changing in a flash, Michael grinned. With the kind of smile that lit his face and shown through his eyes, mischievous and full of love. “Yes, Sir.” He gave a playful salute, giggling as Brian pushed him back onto the bed and began to tickle.

Laughter filling the room as the two tussled and played….

- - - - - - -

“Uhmm, hmmm. Michael. Miiiiichael.”

Ashton’s voice called Michael out of the zone he was in, drawing his attention back to the two men sitting across from him. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

Shooting Declan a small smile which the Irishman answered with a warning look that didn’t prove hindrance enough to stop him, Ashton turned back to Michael and shook his head. “You stare at that clock any harder and the glass’ll crack.” He reached across the table and patted Michael’s hand, “He’ll be back soon.”

Michael gave Ash’s hand a squeeze, saying softly, “I know. I just….” He pulled back, sitting up right in his chair as he looked away - unconsciously fingering the length of sleeve he’d pushed up his wrists only moments before. Brian’s sweater, black and soft against his chest. The arms were too long for Michael, but it had been laid out on the bed when he’d awoken again late into the morning. There either because Brian had chosen another sweater over it before he’d gone, or because he’d left it for Michael to wear.

Drawing his hand up to rest his chin on, Michael inhaled - loving the smell of Brian’s cologne as it tinged the fibers of the sweater. Yeah, he’d definitely worn it before leaving. And having it on helped Michael feel closer to Brian in his absence. He finished his thought, “I miss him.” Looking at Declan, he asked. “Kinda sad, right?”

“As in, you’re a sad sack for feeling that way? No. It’s to be expected. Not only because he’s your lover, but because of the levels of emotional intimacy you’re experiencing here.” He pushed his plate away; the three of them having finished a late lunch in the kitchen. “The first separation following a scene is usually the most acute; it’ll get better the closer you bond.”

Michael hugged his arms around his middle, belaying his actions with a laugh. “You make it sound like some king of Vulcan mind-meld.” He frowned when immediately following his words; Declan groaned and buried his face in his hands as Ashton simultaneously shifted with excitement in his chair.

Declan’s muttered, “Oh god, you had to mention Star Trek.”

Ash popped his lover/master on the arm, blowing a raspberry his way before turning to Michael with a gleam in his eyes. He opened his mouth, about to go off on a tear when Declan clamped a hand over it to stop the stream. Darting a stern look that didn’t hide his humor at his slave, Dec warned, “You bite, and I’ll be introducing your dick to Mr. Chastity Belt before the sting has time to wear off.“ It would have been a stronger threat if he hadn’t started laughing half way through.

Dropping his hand, Declan kissed Ashton’s pouting lips - speaking to Michael once the kiss ended. “You happened upon one of his favorite topics - that being all things Trek. It’s his thing. Once he starts, it‘ll be hours before we could bring him down.” He leaned back, drawing Ashton close to him with an arm around the other’s shoulders.

Michael chuckled, “You’ve got the same look on your face that I get when it’s about comic books.” Teasing, he added conspiratorially, “Does he bounce, too?”

Declan looked up at the same clock Michael had had to be dragged from only moments before, “Oh, give him about ten minutes. It’ll come.”

Huffing, Ashton interjected, “Keep it up. Just remember, one click of a mouse and I’ll be showing Michael a certain picture of you dressed as a Klingon to my Spock.”

Ashton’s sprint across the kitchen with Declan chasing hard on his heels left Michael laughing loudly; visions of another photograph remembered. Brian’s Captain Astro to his Galaxy Lad. The thought of how small the world was, floating in his mind….

- - - - - - -

Part 8

- - - - - - -

“Anyway, it didn’t happen. He wouldn’t budge, the bastard. Would have been perfect, too. He’s a counselor and so’s she. Then you look at the hair. It screams Deanna Troi. But no; Mr. Master Man just had to go all gruff and Klingon-snarly.”

“Ashton! Enough…. Your leeway allowance is just about bankrupt.”

“Ahhh, come on. You have to admit it would’ve been one hell of a lark, seeing you in the little short skirt and the boots.” Ashton’s words ended with a whispered, “uh oh,” as Declan stopped their progression down the hallway and turned to look at him with a face that bode no dissension. The look, nothing less than masterly.

Michael’s laughter stopped quickly, a godsend really considering his sides were hurting from the last half hour of their giggle-fest. He looked at Declan; the man’s expression showing disapproval for Ashton’s continued amusement at his expense. Especially after he’d already warned him to stop early.

Michael couldn’t help but find the abrupt transition from indulgence to domination, fascinating. Like the flipping of a switch.

Course, seeing it left Michael a little glad it was a look turned towards Ashton, rather than himself.

Not that Ashton was worried or afraid. What he was instead, was . . . well, tamed. Without a word more from his Master, the tease was gone. And there Ashton stood with a new face, docile. With eager eyes and a held tongue, awaiting whatever it was Declan wanted.

Addressing his slave, Declan ran a hand along Ash’s sweatshirt then down over the denim covering his hips; it was the first time he had been allowed clothing since they’d come to Havenshire. “In my pocket, take out the key.” Waiting until Ash had followed his orders, Declan finished, “Go up, and bring me what’s in the third drawer of the red cabinet.”

Dropping his eyes, Ashton drew in a breath and asked, “The… The red, Master?” There was a stuttered catch in his voice that had Michael wondering.

Declan nodded, “I did warn you.” He stood so still, his manner imposing and will strong. The whole of him a force to which Ashton’s will bowed; the Englishman quickly turning to do as he had been ordered. Stopping for a moment as Declan added, “To the studio. We’ll be waiting. And Ash, you’re to present yourself, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words echoing back as Ashton rushed down the hall; disappearing up the stairs that Declan had led Michael and Brian to the day before….

Once he’d gone, Declan turned to Michael and winked. The motion coinciding with a smile that broke his serious expression as he said, “Nothing so very ominous, really. He’s just earned himself a few hours of denial.” He didn’t expand on his meaning, just crooked a finger towards Michael and led him to the studio that both he and Ashton shared.

Again, like their space in Pittsburgh, the studio was divided. One side for Ashton’s sculpting, and one for Declan’s photography. One wall was banked half in glass, windows from waist level rising ten feet high providing all the light an artist could desire. The room was warm, despite the exposure - heated centrally, but with the addition of a kettle stove on one end. A door stood ajar next to it….

Seeing it, Declan gave a shake of his head as he crossed over and closed the door with an exasperated sigh. At Michael’s questioning look, he explained. “Basement. Ash’s kiln is set up down there. He was firing some smaller pieces earlier.” With a smile, “It’s why he was allowed to be dressed. Can’t have him wielding sharp tools and handling hot objects in the raw, now could I?”

Michael gave a commiserating grimace, “Ouch,” that had Declan laughing.

“Yes, ouch. And now, having been a bad boy, he’s going to have his work privileges revoked for the rest of the day.” He turned to look behind him, “Isn’t that right, slave?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Michael glanced at the door, seeing Ashton had returned. Returned, but with a difference….

Or a lack rather, as he’d removed his clothing again. Standing naked, head down with hands clasped behind him. His only adornments were the rings at his chest, glinting against his skin.

Michael let his eyes follow down the length of Ashton’s body, paying more attention to the beauty of the man now that Brian wasn’t there to hold his total attention. Feeling more comfortable just to look, now that he himself was dressed. Distanced by the presence of his clothes, as if they were a barrier that allowed him to see in greater safety - without feeling self-conscious about his own body.

Thighs strong, skin tan. No visible lines which spoke to tanning bed use in the middle of winter, like Brian. Body toned, but not muscular like…. Well, like other men Michael had known. The definition of Ashton’s arms the result of his craft, signified a strength found in the rest of him - chest tight and abdomen cut. Sex lax, long, smooth and of a darker tone than the rest of him. No excess of anything, but man at his best. The thought running through Michael’s head, echoing his first impression of Ash. Gorgeous.

It wasn’t that Michael was tempted, satisfied to be with Brian as he was - but being with him didn’t mean Michael was forever blind. Mostly what he thought was that Declan was a fortunate man. As he obviously knew, Michael found when he turned his eyes back to Dec only to find he’d be caught looking. The amusement clear, as was the pride in Declan’s sapphire eyes.

The expression, the man…. Michael counted Ashton fortunate, too.

Again giving Michael a wink, Declan moved to Ashton’s side. Lifting Ash’s chin with a touch, he held out his hand. “Give them to me.”

Taking in a breath, deep and long, Ashton did as told. He drew his hands around to the front, bringing into view the items he’d been holding behind his back. Cuffs in the right, and in the left…. In the left was something Michael could only surmise to be the chastity belt Declan had promised would be in use if Ashton couldn’t hold his tongue. Designed to resemble a g-string, it was a series of leather straps that framed the waist and pulled back through the thighs. But the front, where the pouch would have been, was what made it distinct. Watching, Michael followed Declan’s deft hands as he arranged Ashton inside. Leaving him displayed, balls pulled through a restrictive circle similar to a cock ring while his shaft was aligned upright, held firm to his body by a series of five leather circular straps - each buckled methodically by Declan until the job was done.

Speaking to Michael, Declan took the cuffs from Ashton‘s hand and circled behind. He caught Ash‘s wrists, fastening each cuff into place before locking them together at the small of his back. “It works similarly to the trunks provided to Brian for you. Only much more . . . direct. He’s effectively caught, vulnerable to touch but unable to get off. Bound until I let him free.”

He’d barely said the word bound, when Ashton let out a moan. Raising his head, eyes squeezed shut as he whispered, “Master.” The sound reverent, warm. A thank you mixed with a plea.

Declan kissed Ashton’s neck, stroking his hand down his slave’s chest - brushing his fingertip still lower, over the head of Ash’s held flesh. Grinning as the man shook, hushing his Ash softly, “Shhhh, naughty one. It’s what I want,” Declan guided him to a nest of pillows that took up space against one wall. “Down, knees first. Hold it for as long as is comfortable, then you may sit until I’m done.” A last kiss as Ashton knelt, and then Declan returned to Michael.

Michael, who was already shifting at the memory of the restriction he‘d been placed under while wearing the trunks to which Declan had referred. How it had aroused him, but denied him at the same time. He couldn‘t begin to think what it would do to him if it was him there instead of Ashton.

“The test is keeping still, accepting another’s will. For Ash, he’s naturally kinetic, so it makes this more of a struggle. But understand, Michael. It’s the ritual he loves. For him, the giving over is everything.”

Declan’s voice called Michael’s attention away from his musing. Turning widened eyes Declan’s way, Michael nodded. Unable to think what to say, but full of questions none the less.

Ever intuitive, either by nature, knowledge or experience, Declan gave him answers without having been asked. “Ash craves subservience, but that doesn’t make him less of a man. In fact, it’s made him a stronger person. You, Michael. You don’t need what he needs. You crave being dominated over being subjugated. Submission turns you on; it arouses you. It adds spice, and allows you a greater sense of self-awareness. But it’s not necessary for your happiness, personally or with Brian.”

Smiling fondly as he looked back at his lover, Declan said, “I seem to be without an assistant, today.” He grinned at Michael, “Know anything about photography?”

Chuckling, Michael shook his head. “Only if you want everyone’s head out of frame and their eyes red.”

Declan laughed, “I’m sure we could fix that, if you’d like a lesson. Then you could help me with adjusting some lighting, and such. I’ve got a project on shadow play I need to finish.”

“Shadow play?”

“Plays on light and dark. Taking ordinary objects and framing them in shadow to build another image all together, or playing on the object itself to draw out a specific focus while obscuring the rest in shadow.” He retrieved a binder from the table nearby. Opening it, he pulled out a set of photographic slides and turned on the backlit surface of his work bench. Handing Michael a magnifier, he said, “Take a look. These are just a few in the series. I’ve got some setting up to finish.”

Bending over the table, Michael squinted to look through the lens. He passed over each of the slides slowly, taking in the details with increasing interest. “Wow, these are beautiful. Do you always work with still life’s?” He didn’t look up for Declan’s answer, continuing on to the next sheet of slides.

“No, hardly. My current project is a series of shots using liquid dyes in water and milk. But I’ve worked with several different themes, like nature, fabrics, textures and….”

“Nudes.” Michael finished for Dec, having reached the last sheet of slides.

“Those are of Ash, actually. You just can‘t see his face.”

Patterned shadows over bare skin, like a light was shining through a screen or off crystal. Contrasts in dark over light, light over dark. The bend of an arm, the inner curve of a raised thigh, the line of an arched throat. One image after another, each more beautiful to look at than the next. It was…. They were, amazing. Erotic in a way that was simple, bare yet intricate. Like no matter how many times you looked at any of the dozen, you’d always be able to see more - a newness you’d missed before.

All of the slides from first to last were striking, the style unique and warm. But the longer Michael looked at the ones of Ashton, the more he wanted to keep looking. And like half his life, he wondered what Brian would say - Michael’s first instinct to share new things with Brian as deeply ingrained as it had been before they’d begun this journey. But at the thought of Brian, Michael paused. Raising his head, he stared off into nothing as an idea began to form. One that made him blush, even as he began to smile.

Clearing his throat, Michael turned a bit hesitantly and asked, “I have an idea. Wou…. Would you help me?”

- - - - - - -

Nightfall found Michael standing before the fire in the great room, looking with worry over his shoulder out the window and into the dark. It was past dinner and still no Brian. His cell had gone unanswered; Michael had left two messages and still no call returned.

Hugging his arms around his waist, Michael realized he was pacing. Feeling a bit foolish, disconcerted, he decided to walk around - do a little exploring. Better to burn energy that way, rather than wearing down Declan’s floors.

Moving through various rooms half blind and deep in thought, Michael wasn’t even aware of his surroundings till he found himself on the second floor. In an area he hadn’t yet seen, on the opposite side of the house from where he and Brian slept. That is when they slept….

“Brian….” Voice small, Michael’s sigh needful.

He ventured on, thinking he’d look around for some distraction. Unknowing that that was just what he was about to find….

A light coming from the end of the hall caught his eye. Michael followed it around the corner, looking through an opened door only to stop short. Stop and stare, surprised and more than a little floored by what he saw.

Declan and Ashton, the two locked in passion, naked and unaware of being seen. Moving together, they moaned; each sound chorused back one to the other. They were on a chaise, Ashton lying back with Declan above. Backlit by flame and soft candle light, the Irishman moved - breaking their kiss to rise in an arch, his head thrown back with a groan as his hips continued to rock. As he continued to lift and fall astride Ash, black curls whipping wet down his spine as he moved. As he worked himself….

“God.” Michael’s whisper so faint it went unheard, his fingers gripping the doorframe as he watched. As the scene that wasn’t a scene coalesced in his mind’s eye and the realization came.

Declan riding Ashton, cock inside him as he worked them hot and fast. Bared, flesh to flesh, no barrier between - he moved. His voice hitching as Ashton fought to keep his hands on Declan’s thrashing hips, Declan’s call sounding broken and harsh through the room, evidenced his need. “Dar…oh fuck. Darkling!”

He looked feral, sleek, on the edge of the end. But then, just as fast as the storm seemed to rise, he jackknifed himself forward and held himself still, frantically telling Ash not to move. “Still, be still. Not yet.” His brogue thick, Declan looked into Ash’s eyes and said, “I want more of you first.” He grinned at Ashton’s bemoaning whimper, “Don’t come until I say. Just like I say.”

The two were wet with sweat, slick with their exertion and the burn they felt for each other from within. Hands framing Ashton’s face, Declan moved again - this time slow, and fractional. His words pouring forth as he watched them affect the man he loved and owned. “I’m filled with you, full and hard. Ahh, my own. My Darkling, yes. You feel so good inside, like a part of me.” He kissed Ashton, their lips hungry as the flame continued to rise between them. As Declan claimed Ashton with hot words, “Make me wet, love. Fill me, come inside me. Make me burn.”

Eyes locked, mouth open, Michael almost moaned with them as Ashton jerked. The Englishman spilling with a cry as Declan spasmed and shot above him. All over him, the two falling together half mad as they shivered in the wracked bliss of after….

His legs feeling weak, Michael shut his eyes and pulled into himself. He was hard, so hard. Shaking with emotion, his need dampening his awareness as he clung to the wall - fingers sliding, too moist for purchase as Michael’s equilibrium faltered and he leaned his head against the wall. One thought in his mind, one name so close to being said aloud. And then….

And then with a start, Michael was turned - pushed back against the wall opposite the door and held tight. Too sudden a move to leave time to struggle, to shout - Michael could only gasp and look up into the warmth of the other’s eyes. Brian’s eyes.

Brian who held him; Brian who was back. Back and kissing him, stealing what little breath Michael had found before the taste of his lover - mint, smoke and just Brian - filled his mind and shifted his world aright, again.

Brian who pulled back from the kiss, and drew Michael silently down the hall….

- - - - - - -

The sound of the door shutting resonated loudly in the silence of their room. A silence that was finally broken as Michael pushed Brian’s overcoat off his shoulders, the motion a little tinged in frantic vibe. “Did you see them?”

Voice gruff, Brian nodded. “Yes, I saw. The last….” He yanked his sweater over his head as Michael pulled the button fly to his jeans open with a jerk, pushing them down after Brian kicked off his shoes. Naked and feeling the weight of an entire day away from Michael, Brian echoed Michael’s haste was he removed every stitch covering Michael from his eyes.

Brian’s ears burned as Michael moaned allowed, “It feels like forever since I felt you, even after a day. I want you back, inside me. Please….” Brian’s name then becoming Michael’s only coherent refrain as Brian sought to give them both what they needed.

Pressing Michael back against the bedpost, Brian sank to his knees. The very sight of which had Michael fisting the drapery behind him and holding his breath.

Too hungry to smile, with want raw in his eyes - Brian ran his hands up Michael’s thighs. Holding firm, he buried his face against the warmth of Michael’s stomach. Nuzzling him, the scratch of his stubble causing Michael to jerk and groan. Shaking under the warmth of Brian’s tongue as he followed the dark treasure trail down, down….

Michael’s cry echoing in his ears as he took him inside, Brian drew on the taste; the sensation of Michael’s cock passing over his tongue and driving him closer to losing his control. Half way to throwing Michael down and fucking him into incoherency, Brian held back at the thought - the wild immediacy of his need to have the taste of Michael passing down into his gut. To have something of him inside.

It didn’t take long; Michael’s frazzled control, his already heightened arousal and Brian’s considerable and insistent skill had him bursting forth with a force that left him barely able to stand. Only managing to by Brian’s strength, guided by his lover as they spread out onto the bed.

Lips wet, moistened by the salt and scent of Michael’s seed, Brian covered the distance between them; pressing Michael down as he took his mouth, kissing the taste back into the man he’d pulled it from. The moment endless, yet over soon as Brian’s body called him back to awareness of its need. As he looked down and saw the same heat, the same call in Michael’s dark eyes….

Leaning in, Brian spoke low. His words passing with heat across Michael’s face, against his lips. “Did you do it? Did you keep yourself ready for me?”

Eyes closing as he felt the warmth flooding his already hot flesh, Michael nodded. He didn’t speak. Instead, he took Brian’s hand and pulled it down between his thighs. Down to touch him, down to where he could pressed Brian’s fingers to the part of him that evidenced his willingness to please.

One push, just the one, and…. “God, Mi…. Michael, you…. Fuck, you did.” Slick, hot and so very tight inside, Brian’s gut clenched as his fingers slid into Michael’s body - two up to the last knuckle inside his ass. Lubed at his request. And ready; ready for him and for it all.

Writhing under Brian’s body, Michael responded to each thrust by arching his hips as Brian stroked over his prostate. His cock began to fill again as the stimulus built; as he clung to Brian, trying to touch the man everywhere he could reach. The only thing left in him to say gusting out in a breathy rasp, “Do it, do it.”

Pleased by Michael’s demand, Brian’s face turned feral - his look alone filled with the force to consume. “Turn over.” Michael’s compliance barely begun, Brian was over him, on him with condom in hand. Keeping Michael pushed flat onto his stomach, he stroked the latex down his shaft. Barely a moment passed and with a long full determined press, Brian was inside. His gasp mixing with Michael’s welcoming groan.

Continuing to gasp, Brian buried his face in Michael’s black hair - his next attempt to breathe strangled from him as Michael’s clenched his cock from within. “Ahhh, fuck.” He ended up laughing, though the sound melded into a grunt as Michael continued to torment him in the only way Brian’s baring presence would allow. “Mikey, damn.”

Running his hands down Michael’s back, Brian lifted up onto his knees. His leverage regained, he moved. Moved and took, his hips powerful as they rocked against the curves of Michael’s behind. In and out, keeping the rhythm mixed as he held Michael down, Brian reveled in the act. In the sound of Michael’s moans, in the sight of Michael’s hands tearing at the sheets as the intensity built and in the feel of having it be so fucking good. Each time as good as the last.

The two men held the moment for as long as they could, but the forever they craved wound down and burned bright as the end came. White hot, sheering, it rolled up Brian’s spine and then down through him with a jerk. A shout passed Brian’s lips only a moment later as Michael’s body bucked uncontrollably beneath him, the smaller man’s climax spilling out as his body squeezed down on Brian’s sex sensitized cock.

Holding Michael’s hips still, Brian carefully pulled away - barely managing the strength to rid himself of the rubber before he collapsed exhausted beside Michael on the bed. “Oh man, I’ve been thinking about doing that all day.”

Michael turned his tired head, too high on having come to mind the wet spot in which he lay. With a small smile, he asked, “Thinking of that, or of me?” Tone teasing, albeit shy. A hesitance in his eyes that spoke to his need for Brian’s answer.

Understanding what wasn’t being said, Brian grinned. The look in his eyes soft, and open as he answered. “Thinking of doing that with you, to you. In a hundred different ways.” Shaking his head tiredly, Brian admitted, “You’re proving to be quite the distraction, Michael Novotny.”

Michael leaned over and whispered close, “I had a little of Brian Kinney on the brain, too.”

Speaking with false menace, Brian said. “I believe you just had hard evidence that there’s nothing ‘little’ about me.”

Laughing outright, Michael shifted slowly over to lie on Brian’s chest. “A lot, then.” He reached down to rest his palm over Brian’s softening sex, “A whole hell of a lot….” Closing in on a kiss, he sighed against Brian’s mouth. Both men closing their eyes as sleep stole in upon them. Time going slower as each settled close and dreaming loomed, Michael released a small murmur. Answering Brian‘s questioning sound before they lost themselves to rest, he whispered. “I missed you, too.”

- - - - - - -

The cuffs; his cuffs. They were the first things Michael saw upon waking the next day.

With Brian at his back, body warm and pressed close, Michael had wandered into wakefulness slowly. Content to be in the space between, drifting in peace without a care. But once clarity had come, he opened his dark rich eyes and there they were. Just the sight of them calling Brian’s promise back to his mind.

Just the sight of them caused Michael to feel . . . well, in a word - without. The skin of his wrists felt fragile, bare - sensitized in a way that reminded him of days when he’d worn his work dress shirts for double shifts at the Big Q; the feel of having had something enclosed around his flesh, now gone - making him more aware of their absence.

Reaching out, Michael pulled both cuffs off the bureau set beside the bed. He had to stretch to catch them, the motion causing Brian’s arm to drop from Michael’s waist. The taller man grumbled in his sleep, turning over onto his stomach before settling back down with his arms curved around his head.

Michael shifted up, sitting against the headboard, and looked at Brian for the longest time. Look at his tousled hair, the smooth long line of his back, the rise of his ass and the length of his thighs. Looked at him with love and with longing. And at last, with a measure of assurance. The weight of which now rested in each of Michael’s hands.

The tangible evidence of Brian’s claim, his promise to care and to keep. Centered down to the clasp and cling of Michael’s two cuffs.

Stroking the leather, enjoying the feel, Michael continued to touch Brian with his eyes. Traveling back up, Michael’s gaze settled on the bend of Brian’s hands as they rested above his head. Focusing on the curve of the wrists, the line of soft skin over bone.

Looked, and then smiled.

Thinking someone needed a reminder of a promise made, Michael moved in to give Brian his wakeup call.

With a difference….

- - - - - - -

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” Brian panted, desperate for air as his body quaked in the aftermath. Gasping out in delight, he grinned as he moaned, “Fuck, you’re wild today.” He laughed as Michael covered his mouth with a kiss; a kiss that was wet and slippery, ending with Michael nipping at Brian’s bottom lip until he groaned.

Once free, Brian dropped his head back and looked up at his bound hands. Tied above his head, attached to the bed post with a knot that wasn’t too tight, but one that held him down. Michael’s handiwork…. Sneaky but inventive. “Wild and wicked, wow.” He continued laughing as Michael sprawled out over his body, his hard-on pressing against Brian’s spent cock.

Lips full from use, Michael grinned back. Reveling in having gotten one over on his sleeping lover, enjoying the appreciative expression on Brian’s face. He waited a bit, as his breathing slowed and the urgency of his need receded just enough; then he leaned down and tisked in Brian’s ear. “Someone,” he paused, “namely you, forgot to do a little something last night.” Michael pulled back , rising up astride Brian’s hips. Retrieving the cuffs from their hiding place under the sheet, he held them up for Brian to see. “A promise is a promise.”

Yanking a little at the restraints Michael had fashioned, Brian lifted his head and took in the view of Michael, naked and hard, as he swung the cuffs from two fingers. There above him, watching Brian with eyes so full, they appeared black in the half shadow of the canopy bed.

And like a match struck to flame, the realization came - burning itself into Brian’s brain. The moment, this moment, was one to which he could surrender; it was a crystallization of all that he wanted and all that he could have. Found in one…. Oh fuck, in one man. In Michael….

Feeling stunned, Brian dropped his head back and closed his eyes. When he could manage, he opened them and husked out, “Untie me, Michael.”

Michael caught the change in Brian’s manner, heard the serious tone in his voice. He dropped the cuffs and quickly released Brian’s hands, making sure to rub the wrists once he was done. Yelping softly in surprise when Brian rolled them over on the bed, until Brian was above and he was below….

Brian grabbed the cuffs from where they lay precariously close to the edge of the bed. Holding them up for Michael to see, he said, “You know they say the best things happen in three’s.” He grinned. “And look what we have here….” Taking Michael’s left wrist, Brian fastened the cuff in place - holding Michael’s eyes the entire time. And then the right, buckled closed . . . both cuffs back where they belonged.

Brian pressed a kiss on each, his lips brushing the leather as Michael’s breathing grew uneven. A word, a number said aloud after he drew back from the right - “One” - and the left - “Two.” Pulling Michael’s hands up, Brian pushed them onto the mattress on either side of Michael’s head. Then without warning, he grazed his lips up the center of Michael’s chest - never fully touching down until….

“Three.” The word was spoken against the pulse of Michael’s heart, warming the skin at the bass of his throat as Brian’s mouth lingered and held the kiss with which it had been gifted. Until after a time, Brian raised his eyes and found Michael’s - holding him still with a look. “I’m collaring you, Michael.” Leaning in, he brushed a kiss over Michael’s mouth, adding quietly, “I want to see you wearing it, and know that I’m the one who put it there.”

Gut burning as Brian’s quick fire words sounded in his head, Michael couldn’t think of an answer. He opened his mouth to speak, but found it impossible to express his own awe. It was like his lungs were too full for his chest, his heart beating too fast. It was a rush, a thrill. Something he hadn’t expected, but now presented as a possibility - no, as a promise - it was something Michael couldn’t deny he wanted. Because having it, wearing it would be a mark of Brian’s claim.

Michael threaded his fingers with Brian, holding tight. He pulled Brian close; legs wrapped around the back of Brian’s thighs - and nodded blindly. Eyes closed, face flushed and mouth open, Michael pressed his head back into the bed. Arching his neck, exposing it to Brian in trust and love - answering as best he could. With grace in surrender….

In the wake of Michael’s assent, Brian responded in kind. In silence, he encircled the pale line of Michael’s throat; cradling the bend of it in his palm. Holding the touch, Brian absorbed the warmth of Michael’s skin, the rhythm of his pulse and the motion of each swallow beneath his hand. Lost in the evidence of Michael’s courage.

Finally, Brian circled his hand around to pull Michael up into a kiss. Ending it as he opened his eyes to look into Michael’s own. About to say. . . something.

His chance taken with the sounding of an insistent knock at their door.

No time allowed for a response, the knocking came again. Followed by a familiar voice, English and fond.

“Is anyone decent in there?” Pause. “If the answer’s yes, I‘ll expect you to lie.”

Brian and Michael both smiled, sharing a look that said they were too amused to be angry with the interruption. Brian rose from the bed, bending to steal another kiss before going to open the door. Naked, of course. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would we?” He grinned as Michael’s laughter followed from behind.

Jerking open the door, Brian stood back for Ashton to enter. But not before looking the man up and down, asking, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

Raising his eyebrow, Ash ignored the question for the brief time it took him to give Brian a once over. He looked past Brian to Michael, nodding Brian’s way as he purred out, “Yummmm.” Grinning as Michael gave a playful, possessive grrrrr in response.

Brian’s snort turned Ashton’s attention back to the first question.

Standing there with a silver tray balanced on one hand and starched white formalwear cuffs buttoned on each wrist, he answered. “Declan’s delivery boy, at your service.” Ash gave a small bow, extending the tray to Brian.

Taking the envelope resting on the tray, Brian opened it as he returned to the bed. He passed it to Michael after reading the card inside. “Seems we’re being invited to dinner.”

“A scene dinner, actually. Rather a formal one, too.” Ashton said from his place by the door; his stance relaxed as he leaned against the jam, tray at his side.

Brian watched Michael as he read the invitation, giving him a wink when Michael looked up at him.

“You know about this?”

Nodding, Brian said, “A little black Irish birdie did give it a mention.”

Eyes crinkling with humor, Ashton gave a chuckle. “Quote the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’” He shook his head, “I rather prefer a life motto of evermore, myself. And more and more and more….”

Michael glanced at the card before asking Ash, “Tomorrow night? What do we….”

“It’s a surprise, actually. Declan and Brian have their fun lording over the table, while you and I get to provide the fun. Oh, and the food. Which means with your Dom‘s kind permission, I‘ll be borrowing you Thursday afternoon.” Turning as if to leave, Ash looked back over his shoulder with a wicked expression on his face. “Michael, ever play naked waiter?”

Ashton’s exit heralded by the closing of the door, he left with the sound of loud laughter at his back. Brian rolling onto the bed in a fit of amusement as Michael pounced on him, admonishing despite his own embarrassed laugh. “You TOLD them? Brian!”

- - - - - - -

“It’s not like I ever pictured, but still…. It’s better. Amazing.”

Brian replied to Michael’s quiet words, “You didn’t think being with me would be amazing?”

Humming softly, Michael tightened his hold around Brian’s neck and pressed a tired kiss just below Brian’s ear. “Of course I did, but this, all of this…. It’s just more.”

“Yeah, a lot more.” Brian acknowledged, shifting down until he could hold Michael against him as they both rested on the sofa in the great room. Both still warm from their shower, full from the experience of their second scene. On the verge of giving in to the notion of sleep, but for one thing….

Or one person.

Sitting back in his chair near the fire, Declan continued to watch Brian and Michael. Easing them into a conversation that was due, some would say past due, after more than half their lives.

“You both did well, today. Setting the guidelines, keeping within comfort levels even as you edge up the intensity of play.” He pushed down the sleeves of his sapphire blue sweater, then turned sideways in the chair with his chin resting on a raised hand. His voice warm, calmly securing as he added, “You’re a good match. Especially knowing each other the way you do, the years you have. It helps set the right pitch of give and take.”

Remaining quiet, Brian thought about Declan’s words. He agreed, really. But knowing and experiencing the ride were two different things, and he was more than a little . . . shaken by his own response to their play. By the way it seemed to grow for him, give him more when he would have only expected just more of the same.

“And you, Brian. How is all this making you feel?”

Drawing back the throw, Brian ran his hand down Michael’s side and then brought the touch round until he was pressing against Michael’s nipple. The nub still hard, red and sore enough from their scene to have Michael give a small jerk at the feel of Brian’s fingers, a muffled groan sounding against Brian’s skin. A sound he repeated as Brian’s touch drifted to its twin.

“Mind-fucked.”

His serious reply broke Declan’s resolve; the man had to laugh. “Wanna explain that a little?”

Feeling Michael going still against him, Brian answered Dec the best way he could for a man unfamiliar with talking about his emotions. “I feel stronger, weaker. Like I won a race I didn’t know I was running, after finding out that I never had to run it at all.” Looking at Declan, he added, “Like I don’t want to fuck up.”

Michael lifted his head, brushing a kiss over Brian’s forehead before pressing his own to it. “You won’t. I trust you.”

Closing his eyes, he whispered low, “What if I don’t trust myself?”

Waiting till Brian opened his eyes again, Michael smiled. “You’re the king of saying fuck failure. It isn’t in you not to succeed.” A breath, a pass of his lips over Brian’s own, and Michael said, “Your whole life, when you’ve set your mind on something, it’s been yours. The only difference now, is I’m yours.”

Brian pulled Michael back down and kissed him, conveying his claim in a way that words could not.

Both only vaguely aware of Declan’s departure, his chuckled, “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” sounding through the room as he walked away.

- - - - - - -

Part 9

- - - - - - -

“No fucking way! You didn’t….”

“Oh, I did,” Ashton answered. “Within minutes of seeing Dec for the first time, I was on my knees offering him anything he wanted. For as long as he would have me.”

Michael stared after him as Ash moved rapidly around the kitchen; the trappings of their coming evening meal spread out all around. “You mean like for a one off? Or….”

Wiping his wet hands on his sweatpants, Ash turned to Michael and leaned against the sink. “I mean that I saw him, wanted him and gave myself to him in less than half an hour.” Grinning at Michael, he added, “Your eyes get any bigger, you’ll be an owl.”

Michael shook his head, “You could have…. That was….”

“Completely irrational and dangerous? I know. But bugger me, have you SEEN the man? I didn’t even have to bend at the knee to reach the floor; one gander and I spilled at his feet.”

Cracking up, Michael said, “You’re either very brave, or - what is it you say, off your head?”

Ashton rejoined with, “Mental, mad as a moose.” He winked, “Good thing he turned out to be going for his psych degree.” Coming round the island, Ash added, “But to put it into context, it’s easier to understand once you know we were at a scene party when we met. That, and the bastard made me wait ages before he said yes. I fucking had to court my own Dom.”

The incredulous expression on Ashton’s face was the last Michael could take, he began to giggle. Hugging his waist with one arm, he covered his mouth with the sleeve of the sweater he was wearing. Brian’s, again. The two subs having been allowed to dress while preparing for the evening’s scene.

“That’s right, laugh it up. But I’ll have you know it was the worst case of prolonged blue-balls I’ve had in my life.” He was smiling as he said it, giving Michael a shudder to emphasis his former agony.

Once they had settled down, Ashton gave the kitchen a final look-see and then turned to Michael. “I’ll throw the main dish into the warmer, the rest will keep until time. Wanna grab a few sandwiches before we head up to get ready?”

Michael frowned, “Why would we eat only a couple hours before dinner?”

Gently, Ashton said, “Michael. Tonight isn’t an ordinary sit-down meal. And it’s a lot more than the one we had your first night here. Dec and Brian will eat, but we won’t. We eat once the scene is done, after we serve them.”

Feeling nervous, Michael asked, “What are we supposed to do?”

Ashton leaned in and whispered, “Please them. Please them very much.” Giving Michael a teasing hair tussle, he added, “Don’t worry. For the majority of the night, it’ll be along the line of looking good and playing waiter. Only with a hands-on policy, rather than a hands-off.”

“And after that?”

“We’re dessert.”

Turning away before Michael could reply, Ashton opened the refrigerator and started pulling out cold cuts and cheese. Handing them off into Michael’s hands before he had a chance to think too hard on what being dessert could possibly entail.

Michael was crossing over to the island with arms loaded when Ashton began whistling softly to himself. The tune familiar, it only took Michael a moment to realize what song it was. Back to laughing, Michael began making their snack - the melody of “Let’s Me Entertain You” resonating through the room.

- - - - - - -

Setting the phone back into the cradle, Declan turned to find Brian standing across the room. “He said it won’t be a problem. It’ll be finished by tomorrow.” Pushing back from his desk, Declan crossed his office and sat on the widow seat. Drawing his legs up, he hugged his knees and looked over to where Brian was perusing the book shelves that lined the walls. “Seems the design you gave him inspired him enough to be half done already. That’s quick work for a man that busy.”

Lips quirky, Brian said, “That and the increased incentive that his bonus would dwindle in the double figures each day it took him to finish.”

“Hmm, you do seem the good tipper type.”

“I’m the best, hand over foot. Too many years of watching Michael’s mother slaving over grease and slop, not to….” Brian grew serious, quiet.

Seeing the change in Brian’s mood, Declan ventured to ask, “We haven’t talked about family in all this. How do you think they’ll react to you and Michael’s relationship? Now that you’re lovers as well as friends.”

Brian snorted, “Before or after his mom tries to turn me into a eunuch?” Leaning back against the wall, he stood with hands in his pockets and ankles crossed - giving the dreaded topic some thought. “She’ll come around, but it’ll take time. She’s known me too long not to keep doubting.” With a wry smile, he continued. “Our friends, too. I‘ve lived my legend too well.”

Declan nodded, “So you think there’ll be a built-in expectation for failure.”

“In a word, yes.”

Grinning now, Declan said, “I doubt you’ve lived your life and gained all you have by simply living within the outlines of others’ expectations. You’re an outside the box thinker, if ever I saw one.”

Brian chuckled. Considering Declan’s disposition, he knew it was a compliment. Like recognizing like.

Declan nodded to the clock, “Dinner starts in about an hour. Meet me in the foyer after you’ve dressed.“

Brian turned to go, crossing to the door only to look back. Answering Declan‘s first question before he left the room, “Ultimately, it comes down to me and Michael. Everyone else can either deal and be happy for us, or they can fuck off. He’s the only family I need.”

- - - - - - -

“Well, what do you think?”

Voice hushed, a little disbelieving, Michael answered. “I, uhmm. I can’t say that he and I have ever met.”

Ashton cracked up, “Well, let me introduce you to the man it took me a half hour to talk INTO his clothes.”

Michael shook his head, “More like it took you a half hour to tie all the laces.”

“Well worth the effort, if I do say so. You look absolutely amazing. It’s off the charts how hot you’ll look to Brian.”

Eyes locked on his own reflection, Michael continued to stare into the mirror. Stunned…. He raised his hands, only to have them slapped away.

“Do not touch your hair; the gel isn’t dry yet. And no mussing up your face. It’s perfection as it is.” Ashton’s voice was admonishing, but his eyes merry. He was obviously well satisfied with Michael’s look. Admiring the end result of his work…. “Come give us a turn in front of the mirror for the full effect.”

Standing before the glass, Michael marveled at the image looking back. It was him, but also not. Or rather him with a difference. “How can you feel more naked wearing clothes than you do without?”

Coming round to stand at his back, Ashton answered, “Because it’s illicit, having your body framed like this. Showing all the naughty bits, while covering the rest.” He caught the look on Michael’s face, then said seriously, “Don’t feel so self-conscious. It’s going to drive Brian wild.”

It took a moment, and then slowly a smile broke over Michael’s full lips. Anticipation growing as he looked at himself with new eyes.

From bottom to top, Michael’s gaze traveled up. He was wearing boots, black leather, matte. They covered his legs, ending just below his knees - fitted and fastened with small silver buckles up his shins. Sharp looking, they weren’t unusual really. What was unusual were the items Michael was wearing under them, above them.

Stockings, silk, sheer and dark. Thigh-highs clinging to his legs, with black seams down the back. Topped by black bands encircling each thigh, holding firm about four inches below Michael’s ass. They had been the first items on, and the first Michael had raised an eyebrow at….

Until Ashton had explained, “Rule one of scene wear: there are no rules. A little gender bending can be fun, but the main point is that they showcase your legs and other…assets, to the nines. Plus, they feel fucking great against your Dom‘s skin when he‘s shagging you. Give‘em a try.”

So he had, having to admit - if only to himself that they felt just as great on his skin as Ash had thought they would against Brian’s. Plus, there was something about the cling and pressure running up his legs and inner thighs that had him feeling a bit restless.

Michael was bare to the waist; his sex already partially full from the contrasting sensation of the silk and the constriction of the boots. Then at his waist, more leather. Tied in just so, he wore of all things - a corset. Or as Ashton had described it, an under-bust - ha ha - steel-boned - double ha ha - corset in black leather. A continuing theme, of course. With silver buckles in front, a match to Michael’s boots - and laces in the rear.

Ashton’s fervor for the thing had Michael laughing so hard, it was a job just to get the ties done. The Englishman’s teasing, “Suck it good, suck right,” hadn’t helped. But once it was over, Michael had actually been intrigued by the feel of it.

“I thought these things were suppose to be too tight to move in. It doesn’t feel that bad.”

“That’s because you’re wearing it for the look, rather than the cinch. Believe me, I held back on lacing it up since your waist is tiny enough to do half the work in advance. Besides, you‘ll need room to breath given Brian‘s usual effect on you.” The last comment had Michael sticking out his tongue, which ended with Ashton staring at him in surprise, “Good lord, man. That thing’s long enough to be lethal. No wonder Brian‘s in love.”

Michael couldn’t help but flush, giving Ashton a small shove as the other man smiled.

The last items added, in addition to the cuffs Michael had already been wearing, were two arm bands, black nail polish and something that had Michael switching his eyes from Ashton’s hands to his face and back to his hands again. A collar, the leather smooth with a silver ring set dead center - about three inches in height, that laced in the back.

Seeing Michael’s look, Ashton said, “It’s a posture collar. This one is only for show, but the real ones are taller. Made to keep a sub from lowering the head, or ducking the chin. It can act as another form of bondage, of control.”

Mouth a little dry, Michael took the collar in hand. Running his fingers over it, he said, “Brian told me he’s going to collar me.”

“That’s wonderful, Michael. Has he said when?” As Michael shook his head, Ashton added, “I remember when Declan gave me his; it was one of the best days of my life.”

Michael’s curiosity drove him to ask, “Do you still wear it now that you have the tattoos? I haven’t seen you wear one since we’ve been here?”

Ash smiled, his eyes shining with life. “Yes, you have. I’ve been wearing it all along. Or rather, them.”

Seeing Ashton’s gesture towards his chest, Michael’s mouth dropped. “Your nipple rings?”

“That’s right.“ Ashton crooked his finger, inviting Michael in for a closer look. “You see, functionally, a Dom can choose any type of collar for their sub to wear. And often they get traded in and out depending on the scene and what games are being played. But symbolically, the collar can take on any form that’s desired. Many people choose something that can be worn more openly than this one,” he took the posture collar from Michael. “A ring, a necklace or unique alternatives like mine can be used to show the claim, or represent a Dom’s mark.”

Michael touched the metal circle closest to him, hesitating when Ash drew in a quick breath.

“Sorry, sensitive. Go ahead.”

Giving each a look, Michael found something that he’d missed before…. “They’re engraved.”

Voice low with emotion, Ashton said, “With Declan‘s name. So it’s like I have him with me, every moment of the day.” Raising his wrists up, “Even before I got these.”

Michael stepped back, asking, “Did he go with you to get them put in?”

Smiling again, Ashton answered, “Michael, collars are put in place by the one giving the gift.” Touching his chest, “Declan did the piercings himself.”

All Michael could manage to say was, “Wow,” too wrapped up in the image to manage much more.

With a laugh, Ashton held up the posture collar. “So, wanna give this one a try? Just for tonight, till Brian gets his butt in gear for the more permanent one.”

After the ties were done in the back, Michael took a breath and turned his head to test the give. Expecting it to be uncomfortable, he found instead that the leather felt good against his skin. That it seemed to carry a presence, in addition to the weight. Raising his fingers to touch it, Michael closed his eyes to focus on the sensation. Thinking about how Brian’s would feel, whatever form it would take.

He wasn’t aware that he’d gotten lost in the mix until Ashton’s voice drew his attention back, “Now for the finishing touches.”

“And what are those?”

Shooting Michael a look that could only bode of wicked intent, Ash said, “Hair and makeup, of course.”

“Ohhh, shit.”

Standing in front of the mirror a good while later, Michael could only stare in wonder at the effect. “If you weren’t such a good artist, I’d say you missed your true calling. I look like something out of a video.”

“Close, try Goth meets ‘Velvet Goldmine.’ But still you.”

Michael’s black hair had been worked into a disheveled but artful chaos, spiky and gelled to shine. But with a difference - silver streaks combed in throughout, a metallic sheen painstakingly brushed up from his hairline and then blended in till it was lost within his natural darkness. Glam rock style, matching the silver and black that held through the rest of what he wore.

The colors were then coordinated to completion, carried full circle in the artistic rendering of Michael’s face.

No foundation used, his skin had only initially been touched-up using a translucent powder mixed with a small amount of silver shimmer. Traces so small that it only appeared noticeable when in direct light. Nothing that would alter Michael’s complexion, but instead acted as a primer for the rest of Ashton’s work - giving his face a vibrant glow.

Next, Ash had added a light dove gray power along the under line of Michael’s chin and jaws, also to his cheeks - skillfully working it in to build up the contours of Michael’s face, giving him a sharper profile that drew the viewer’s gaze to his mouth.

But the last, the best were Michael’s eyes. Dark on dark, then drawn in and lined with light. Charcoal shadow circled each eye, the underside faded out by Ashton’s brush, leaving a smoky blur and the upper lid dark, deep, looking as if the only break between Michael’s iris and it was the white of his eyes. That is until Ash added the rest. Silver shadow at the corner of each, then drawn down lightly to fade away along the lines of his nose. The shadow was also added to the top of each eyelid, below his brows.

But the key, the kicker that won the look was the final touch.

Michael’s eyes were silver lined, drawn to perfection with liquid eyeliner and a steady hand. Outlined, top and bottom, but with a last flair as Ashton pulled out from the far corner of each eye - the lines ending only once they’d melded with the metallic sheen worked into Michael’s hair.

“Brian won’t know what hit him.”

Michael smiled at Ashton’s words, thinking Brian wouldn’t be the only one feeling stunned. “Declan won’t either when he gets a looked at you.”

“That is the idea.”

Ashton’s role for the evening’s entertainment was a play on his everyday status as Declan’s slave. He was dressed in a mix of tribal slave meets Roman warrior. Or rather, by the design of his clothing, a gladiator. Who had been, as Ashton was quick to point out, slaves.

Hair brushed to frame his face, he wore a hammered metal band across his forehead. Matching metal arm cuffs, six inches long, fastened to each wrist - covering his tattoos from view. No makeup, but carrying a rougher look. Unshaven, his stubble running dark over the line of his jaw and chin.

Wearing a harness, the black straps crisscrossed and joined at the center of his chest by a metal O-ring. Around Ashton’s hips, the item that made the theme of his outfit. A skirt, short and black - gladiator style. The leather was square cut, split at the hip with just a hint of his thigh showing through on the side. A big heavy belt buckled at his waist. His feet sandaled with black cords wrapped up his legs to the knees.

Michael had called foul, asking why Ashton got to cover up the goods. Only to have Ashton give a turn, to show that not only was the skirt short - he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Dec likes easy access. Now give us a hand….”

With Michael’s help, Ashton had added the last detail. The tribal spirit to his gladiator slave….

Down the side of his right arm, Ash was marked by lines of black fire. Body paint sprayed on using templates, the design carried across his skin like reaching flames. Covering the length of his bicep, over his collarbone and up the side of his neck.

Standing side by side, Ashton and Michael’s eyes locked in the glass. A smile spreading from one to the next. A knowing expression on their faces.

Both thinking, let the evening begin….

- - - - - - -

“Bloody hell.” Declan’s words were low and intimate as he added, “You’ll be the death of me, looking like that.”

Eyes lowered in the presence of the man to whom he belonged, Ash asked softly, “Do I please you, Master?”

“Everyday, Darkling. Everyday. And tonight,” giving Ashton another look, “very well.”

The two men were standing by the entrance into the dining room, under the stone archway at close quarters. Michael stayed a step behind, having come down the stairs with Ashton, only to hold back when he saw Declan leaning in the doorway awaiting them both. Playing witness, he watched as both men saw each other for the first time that night. Watched and wondered if Brian would look as hunger-struck as Declan did.

Not that Ashton was any less affected by the sight of Declan dressed in black tie. Custom-made Saville Row, circa 1965. The tux was classic, complete with French cuffs, silk lapels and bowtie. The style pure Bond, Sean Connery in “Dr. No.” Tailored for Declan’s body, sleek and sharp against his skin. Strikingly offset by his hair.

It was several long moments later before Declan turned his eyes from Ashton to Michael. Too caught up in how his lover looked to shift his notice; not before letting his gaze wander, and hands touch. Ash’s new faux tattoo was of particular interest by the look on his face. His delight evident as his fingers continued to brush lightly over the dark design.

When at last he did look, Declan gave Michael a soft whistle and a grin. “Fantastic, Michael. You’ll serve your Dom’s pleasure well looking like that.” Turning to Ash, he said, “You have him fitting the role to perfection.”

Michael asked, “What role am I suppose to fit?”

Not answering right away, Declan gave Michael a long surmising look. His eyes traveling over Michael’s body from feet to face, their heat causing Michael’s face to warm as Declan answered, “A rich man’s fantasy made flesh, Michael. Exotic, seductive, something to crave.” Taking Ashton’s arm, he indicated that Michael should go before them into the dining room. “He’s already inside.”

Taking a deep breath, Michael braved each step through the door.

The room was lit in a warm muted glow, candles burning throughout - vanilla and spice lingering faintly in the air. The table was set with four place settings, though now he knew only two would be used. There were antique leather high-back chairs at either end, armless and strong; serving as each Dom’s power position on an evening of equals who looked to be served. And for atmosphere, there was music sounding softly - nothing jarring or too melodic. Something, instead, that played its own games with the listener’s senses. A sensual rhythmic baseline that swayed through the room like an undercurrent of incitement. Of sex….

But for all the effort that he and Ashton had given to build the mood, Michael hadn’t ears or eyes for his surroundings; his eyes having found what they most wanted to see.

Brian….

Standing across the way, staring out the window with his back to the room, he didn’t move when Michael entered. Seemingly too lost in thought to have noticed he wasn’t alone.

As Michael neared, his boots sounded on the polished stone floor - signaling Brian to look around.

For Michael, it was one of the longer moments of his life. As if he were somehow outside himself watching as the seconds flew by…. And then as Brian turned and Michael saw him for the first time in what seemed like days rather than hours, it was all Michael could do to keep his heart in his chest.

“Brian.” Said with reverence, Michael’s gasp was but a small measure of his awe.

Black on black, Brian stood gorgeous and dark. The clothing new, picked for just tonight on a side trip during his day back in Pittsburgh; he stood draped in Armani. Tuxedo trousers topping black leather shoes. An open-collared black silk shirt worn beneath the best article of all - his jacket. Black velvet, single breasted with silk lapels - it was stylish, cut to conform to the man like a second skin; one that begged to be touched.

The overall look, an experience - a gift. Leaving Michael feeling amazed, as if he were looking at someone too beautiful to be true.

And Brian, seeing Michael in turn, was left staring without a word.

The silence loomed as Michael began to notice Brian’s lack of reaction. Self-consciousness hitting him like a blow. Was it too much, had he made a mistake to try? Dropping his eyes, Michael’s excitement waned as he waited; afraid that the only role he had played was that of the fool.

Unaware of the turmoil he’d caused, Brian continued to look. To take the image of Michael inside himself in great detail. Inch by inch as his eyes roamed, until standing still wasn’t enough and he began to circle Michael as he stood in the light. One revolution, two - eyes traveling, feet getting faster as Brian moved around Michael from front to back, back to front. Seeing all that Michael would give, had done and would do to please him.

On the verge of going for the door, Michael’s world suddenly tilted in a rush as he was pulled back. Held firm, and made to know intimately just how he’d made Brian feel.

Control thrown down, Brian took Michael to him - his hold rough, his need strong. Writ for all to see as he took Michael’s mouth with his own. The kiss hungry and hot as it heralded his response to Michael’s new look.

“God, Michael.” The words pushed into the heat of Michael’s mouth as Brian fought to breathe; his voice a tattered thing as he murmured against Michael‘s lips, “You’re fantastic.”

Swept up in the blitz of Brian’s kiss, his touch and the feel of him velvet and strong, Michael could only reach up for more. Opening his mouth in offer, as both men fed. Clinging hands moved; Michael’s over the purring smoothness of Brian’s back, as Brian dropped his to pull them closer before letting his fingers trail over Michael’s thighs. Groaning aloud as he felt the silk of the hose warmed by the heat of Michael’s skin underneath.

Breaking away, Brian whispered, “I could lay you down right here.” Taking Michael’s hand, he brought it to his groin. “Feel what you do to me.” He focused his eyes on the scarlet blush of Michael’s mouth, dark from use. “One look, just one. And I’m hard enough to hurt.”

The fullness under his palm was echoed in Michael own flesh; his body having responded to the man he wanted most. In kind with the passion they equally inspired. He looked up at Brian and smiled, “Seeing you like this, I’d probably let you.” He was teasing, but the warmth of his cheeks and the call of his own body’s need spoke to there being some truth behind his words.

Brian grinned, shaking his head. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Now, now,” Ashton admonished as he came into the room. “Wouldn’t do to spoil dinner with dessert.”

Brian broke out in a laugh, “Get a load of you.”

Michael laughed, too. Unable to help it when he saw the look Ashton shot Brian, before the Englishman gave a full fashion turn.

Sitting at the table, Declan called their attention. “Gentlemen, tick tock.”

Giving Brian and Michael a whisper, “I fucking love it when he gets all Dom and demanding,” Ashton crossed to the table, “Coming, Master.”

Brian shifted to adjust himself, giving Michael a rueful glance. “I could think of better things to eat right now. But given the way you look, I’m going to need my strength. Shall we?”

Feeling a little anxious for dinner to be done himself, Michael agreed. But not without exhibiting his growing confidence. Giving Brian a dark look over his shoulder as he turned, Michael answered, “As Sir wishes.” Then grinning, he strode across the room - knowing Brian would appreciate the view.

Which he did, as evidenced by Brian’s groaned, “Fuck me,” sounding at his back.

- - - - - - -

Dinner commenced with Michael and Ash giving service, course for course. It wasn’t so different from Michael’s other foray into food service, complete with nudity and being felt up. But considering it was Brian, his lover, that he was waiting on, the meal proved much more interesting.

Between each couple, there were enough roaming touches and held looks to keep the sexual tension humming throughout. Until, finally - they were done. Dishes stripped, candles burning low and music still in the background.

“Come here to me.” Declan held out his hand, pulling Ash to stand between his spread legs. Standing, he crowded his slave back until Ash was caught between the hard unforgiving table and the line of his Master’s body. Back still more until he was made to sit on the table as Declan pushed open his thighs. “Time to fill another appetite, Darkling.”

Ashton moaned as Declan kissed him, the Irishman’s hand moving under the leather of Ash’s skirt as the other trapped him with a grip in Ashton‘s hair.

“And guess who just became dessert….” Brian’s voice in Michael’s ear caused him to start, before he leaned into his arms. Held back to front as they stood together, the two playing spectators as the view grew more and more intense.

Words a little shaky, Michael murmured, “His or yours?”

“Oh, I think I could grab a bite.” Brian gave Michael’s collarbone a nip, pressing his teeth in gently just below the black leather tied round Michael’s throat, his lips working the line of the smaller man’s shoulder as Brian reached up and began to pull open the laces on the back of the corset.

“You feel that, feel it burning through you.” Declan’s voice carried, though his focus never strayed from Ashton’s panting form. “You’re so hot, and hard in my hand.” Pushing Ash down, Declan followed until he had him laid out over the table - a spread of sex and man.

Leaning over him, still grounded on his feet, Declan brought his mouth to Ashton’s chest and took the closest ring between his teeth. A little pull, a sweep of tongue, a wash of lips tormenting the sensitive nipple as it stood erect, point and counter point to the stroking of Declan’s knowing hand. And still the other hand locked in his hair, holding him down, guiding him to accept Declan’s designs.

Gasping as the last of his ties were undone, Michael shivered as the leather fell to the floor. Kicked away by Brian’s foot; followed hard upon by the soft rustle of velvet hitting wood - Brian’s jacket thrown onto the table. And then Michael was again against him, held there as Brian’s hands followed the pale rose indentations left barely visible across his skin. Rolling Michael’s nipples until he was moaning too, his sounds mixing with Ashton’s as the two men were tuned, and turned on.

Circling against Michael’s behind, Brian dropped to hold him still with an arm around his waist and the other running up, then down Michael’s thighs. Ever near, but ever far from touching him the way Declan was touching Ash. “I’m watching you, Michael. Watching you watching them. Your face changes the more I touch you, the closer you get. It’s like you darken and shine at the same time.” Proving his words as he took Michael’s hard-on into his hand; the hunger growing there as Michael clutched at Brian’s hips - a desperate reach to steady himself as the pleasure dawned through his veins.

And just as quickly given, it was taken away as Brian pulled his hand away. “Easy, easy. Not yet. God, not yet.” The words gruff, showing Brian’s own weakening hinge on his desire. “Stop moving and watch.”

Michael, not having been aware that he was grinding slowly back against Brian’s cloth-covered cock, managed to hold himself still. But only with an effort of will. Caught up in his own desire, Brian’s at his back and the view unfolding before their eyes.

“Please. Ahhh, fuck. Master, please.” Rambling forth in a rush, Ashton writhed - begging so sweet, but with due cause as Declan was now crouching low between his legs. Mouth engaged, leather rucked to his lover’s waist - he was taking Ash inside himself one inch at a time, playing the length over his tongue. Pushing Ash closer and closer, but never letting him go far enough.

Yanking his coat off, Declan didn’t miss a beat as he pulled the tie free. The black strip floating to the floor; Declan’s white shirt soon to follow. He rose, bared to the waist, and covered Ash’s body to catch another kiss. Quick to pull free when Ashton reach for him with clinging hands. “No touching. Cross your wrists over your head.”

After Ash had complied, Declan reached down between them. Hand fast at work, while his other held Ashton still with a firm grip at the back of his neck. “You’re like my own private warrior, held under hand. Mine to have, mine to take. Uhhnn, fuck.” One push, one drive forward and there ended any mystery as to what he’d been doing out of sight. Declan trusting as Ashton cried out, arching up into the senseless sensation of submission - both in body and in mind.

It was fast; it was wild - it was sweat and heat and slapping flesh. Two men locked in getting more, deeper, faster, now. Ashton’s legs wrapped around Declan’s back, his hands clutching the end of the table as he groaned and shook. Declan’s face somewhere between a scowl and a grin, still beautiful in his fierceness. Masterful in his need.

Until his need mastered them both….

Shaking, Michael moaned in sympathetic envy as Declan and Ash collapsed in the aftermath of coming. Both lost to the room, as they shook and clung tight. Their cries still ringing in his head, he turned into the line of Brian’s body and circled his arm at Brian’s waist. Michael’s free hand dropped down to close over the hard-on beneath Brian’s pants. Raising he face, meeting his lover’s eyes, he breathed out his most prevalent request. “Please….” Knowing that it wasn’t a matter of permission any longer, the word instead acting as a spark to incense Brian to act.

Unable to think past what they’d witnessed, and the must have, take-take-take-him vibe screaming through his blood - Brian took Michael’s eager hand from his groin, and pulled him fast through the room to the door. Practically barking out, “Where….”

Only to have Michael pulled against his hold, turning them in a new direction. “Here.”

The great room….

Home to more than one make-out session, each having ended before they’d gone too far. Now, tonight, the perfect spot in Michael’s mind for more of having it all. Giving it all, over and in.

A fast toss of a throw in front of the fire, and Michael was kneeling at Brian’s feet, pulling open his pants.

“You look like you wanna eat me alive.” Brian stood tall above him, the same expression in his eyes as Michael. And then he wasn’t talking at all, as Michael jerked the pants down his legs and zeroed in on driving him insane.

Moments later, like a span of missing time, Brian found himself fully naked on his back with Michael sitting astride his hips. Looking like some fey creature sent to suck the life out of him - a talent he had the power to do considering how fast he’d had Brian quaking in a slide to the floor, Michael was all Brian could see. And all he needed to know as Michael reached inside his boot and pulled a square packet out for Brian to see.

Grabbing Brian’s hand, Michael licked his fingers. Wetting them as Brian groaned, then brought them around and down. “Feel me.” Michael kissed him, before adding, “Inside me.”

One, two - the way slick, open. Brian closed his eyes, a smile crossing his face. “I never would have made it through the meal if I’d known.” Opening his eyes again at the feel of Michael’s hands rolling the condom down his cock, Brian arched his hips and grabbed Michael tight. “Come here, you.”

Flipping them round, Brian pressed Michael to the floor and spread his thighs wide. Holding Michael’s legs open as he pushed inside. His cock thrusting into Michael’s body as Michael grunted low; the press and pressure consuming him as he was filled again and again. The pace building quickly as the night culminated in primal thrusts and wanton cries.

Michael thrashed as Brian jerked him close; the larger man pulling Michael up from the floor. Settling him over his lap, Brian sat back on his legs with Michael kneeling over his thighs. “Ride me, fucking ride me till you come.”

Holding onto Brian’s shoulders, Michael did as told - gasping out Brian’s name as he rose and fell, rose and fell. Pushing himself onto Brian’s hard flesh in a rhythm that flowed and then grew disjointed as both men shuddered; Michael from the hot rush of his come as it spurted out across Brian’s skin and his own hand, Brian from the vice clench of Michael’s body that pulled him with force over into bliss.

A long while later, Brian eased from Michael, grunting as he disengaged. “You make me come so hard, I feel like I could bust a nut.” His chuckle blended with Michael’s laugh, as Brian lay down at Michael’s side. His eyes following over Michael’s face and form; taking in the wrecked hose, the semen slicked curve of his sex, the flush that followed down Michael’s chest, and the makeup smudged and half worn away by sweat. Only one thing out of place; one object that Brian felt had to be removed….

Reaching under the curve of Michael’s neck, Brian pulled the ties free on the posture collar. He threw it to the side and rubbed his hand along the line of Michael’s throat, enjoying Michael’s pleased sigh. “It’s going to be tomorrow, Michael.”

Voice rough, hoarse from before, Michael asked, “What’s tomorrow?”

Leaning in, Brian pressed his mouth to Michael’s ear and answered in a whisper. Giving a reminder of what he’d promised just the morning before, “1-2-3.…” Drawing back, he placed his lips over the soft skin at the base of Michael’s throat - kissing him there again and again as Michael ran his fingers through Brian’s hair.

A soft, “oh,” escaping Michael before he closed his eyes and was pulled into another kiss.

- - - - - - -

Part 10

- - - - - - -

A soft knocking at the door woke Michael from sleep. It was late morning, sun shining through the half pulled drape of the bed. Blinking to clear his eyes, Michael tried to think. Friday; it was Friday. But there was something…. He was supposed to remember, Brian had said….

“oh”….

Turning to find Brian wasn’t with him; Michael sat up and answered the returning knock. “I’m awake, already.”

The door opened, Ashton entering in its wake. “Morning, Michael.” He strode to the bed. “Give us a schooch.” Not waiting for Michael to move, Ash plopped down beside him.

“You’re dressed.” In a blue gray cashmere sweater that looked a tad snug, probably Declan’s. And black trousers, from what Michael could tell.

Laughing, Ashton agreed. “Very perceptive.” Eyes traveling over Michael, who was half buried by the bed sheets, Ashton gave a playful wide-eyed double take. “By the way, you’re not.”

Michael gave him a shove, “Ha ha. Very funny.”

Ashton grinned warmly. “Hey, I’m a gander-hound just like the next man. And after the view we gave you last night, you ought to be barking by now.”

A flash of Declan having Ash on top of the table raced through Michael’s mind, leaving him flushed and flustered at the memory.

“Ohhhh, it DOES go all the way down. Fabulous. Five shades deeper and we’ll be calling you Elmo.”

Without missing a beat, Michael grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked Ashton across the chest. The room echoing with their laughter and Michael’s indignant, “Shut up!”

Racing off the bed and out of Michael’s aim, Ash managed to escape the flying pillow targeted at his back. “Aren’t you a fireball this morning…”

Michael snorted, “Unless you’ve experienced the concussing head slaps of my mom, you have nooooo idea how fireball-ish the Novotny’s can be.”

A quick salute as Ashton took another step backwards, “One Englishman duly noted.”

Michael shook his head, saying again, “You’re dressed. Why?”

“Because a rather beautiful boy let it slip that this will decidedly be YOUR day, so Declan has put playing on hold.”

Michael’s day; his collaring. God…. “Where’s Brian?”

“Off being secretive. While you get to come with me. Now get dressed.”

“You must be the bossiest slave on the planet.”

“It has been said, repeated and written on the blackboard at least a thousand times.” Ashton saw Michael’s expression and added, “Declan does have a talent for utilizing standard punishments in unusual ways.”

Smiling, Ash walked to the door before turning back to say, “Best hop to; Dec’s expecting us. He’s got a surprise for you.”

Eyes fixed on Ashton’s retreating back, Michael took a breath - his mind filled with questions, and then rose to face the day.

- - - - - - -

Declan’s surprise turned out to be, well…rather surprising. The culmination of his talent and Michael’s request; he’d taken their time in the studio to a level that had Michael looking again and again. “That’s unbelievable. It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Declan’s smile was small and, if it were possible, shy. A man pleased with the reception of his work.

Michael was still staring, even as he said, “Thank you so much.” When at last he turned, Michael asked, “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Declan’s answer was, “It’s you, how could he not.”

It was something Michael could only hope was true.

- - - - - - -

Hours passed, each longer than the next and still no Brian. Michael occupied himself by playing assistant to Ashton, who continued to amuse both Declan and Michael by making obscene clay figures instead of working on any of his works in progress. He’d made Michael take a turn at the clay spinning wheel, but Ashton’s rendition of “Unchained Melody” had ended with him being pelted by both Master and guest. Wet clay everywhere, and Michael collapsed on the floor laughing as Ashton tried to talk himself out of a spanking - because really, clay curls were a good look for Declan don’t you agree?

But despite the fun, Brian’s whereabouts were still a question. One that Declan wouldn’t venture to answer. Just telling him that Brian would be back in good time.

After helping clean up the studio, Michael smiled as Declan pulled Ash up the stairs to dole out some bun warming. Or rather as Declan gave his lover a shove and then chased after as Ashton darted up taking two stairs at a time, laughter echoing down the stairwell as they disappeared from view.

Left to his own devices, Michael wandered the house for awhile. Realizing with some amusement at his own expense, that he hadn’t even noticed the absence of a television or a computer. Or even a phone. No email, no pages, nothing for a week.

He’d been too wrapped up in and with Brian to notice.

But that also meant there were other things, other people he’d been distanced from as well. And there lay too many tangled webs for him to unravel in a day. Deciding that he still had time to deal with that, and best now, someone to help him deal in it together - Michael turned his mind away from thoughts of home.

Choosing instead to focus on something he’d been neglecting for far too long. “Rage“… Michael wasn’t willing to let his dream fade out so soon. Seeing “Rage” in print had inspired more storyline ideas than he could keep straight. It was time to put a few down, even if only in outline. Hopefully, as tempers cooled and relationships went on, he and Justin would be able to work out their differences for the sake of another issue. Or several…. If not, if they couldn’t work together, then Michael had hopes of continuing on regardless. Maybe Ashton had contacts locally that would be open to the commission. Time would tell.

Writer’s cramp and sunset were at last the things that turned Michael’s attention from a certain couple of superheroes saving Gayopolis, and back to the ticking clock. He had dried flecks of clay on his jeans, a few small streaks on his arms that he hadn‘t noticed before. Grabbing his notes, he decided to head up and grab a shower. Still waiting as his day turned into his night….

- - - - - - -

With barely a turn on the knob, the bedroom door opened wide. A startled Michael staring over the threshold to see Brian blocking his view of the room. Brian, who carried a secretive look in his eyes and a heated expression on his face, standing there in nothing but a worn pair of rumpled jeans unbuttoned at the waist. Shirtless, shoeless, at ease with his body and himself - but a man who worked what he had because he knew it was worth the price.

“Hi.” Michael murmured, still caught up in the rush he always felt at the sight of Brian. Especially when Brian looked back at him the way he was….

“Not yet.“ A smile, Brian’s full lips turning as he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a joint. “Care to join me in a haze of memories from wayward days gone by,” he closed the door behind Michael, and then crowded him against its solid frame. “Just you, and me.”

Looking up into Brian’s eyes, held within them, Michael nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” Brian stepped back, letting Michael get a better look at part of his surprise.

Furniture pushed back against the walls, the center of the floor in front of the fire was covered in pillows. Large, plush, in varying shades of brown, black and burgundy, they were arranged in a spread out fashion that spoke to relaxation and luxury. Centered amongst them were….

“Brian! How did you get all this out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Took a little side trip during my day. But it was purely selfish. Almost two weeks since I’ve had Chinese, I was starting to go through withdrawal.” Various cartons were sitting on a tray, a variety that spoke - despite his words of self-interest - more to Michael’s favorites, than Brian’s.

“You went home, again? Was it work?”

“Nahh, it was easy. I knew the way.” Brian grinned at Michael’s dramatic groan, and the bird Michael threw in his direction.

Waving Michael over, Brian caught the cuffed wrist nearest him before Michael could pass. Stealing a kiss, sensual and slow, before they both settled down to eat….

An hour later, Chinese takeout cartons littering the scene, found the two sprawled out over the pillows. Michael giggling as Brian looked down at him, laughing back even as he shook his head. They’d finished smoking long before, eating as they talked about Michael’s day. Brian still mum about his own. Though Michael’s giddiness worked to cover Brian’s turning the conversation back his way each time. The picture Michael created of Declan and Ash from earlier in the day had them both bursting out loud. Tears in Michael’s eyes from laughing so much, a light in Brian’s as he continued to indulge one of his favorite sports. Watching Michael be Mikey….

As time passed, the laughter waned and the soothing warmth of the room, the food and the pot started to settle over Michael - his eyes closing on the brink of sleep; Brian leaned in and murmured against his ear.

His words calling Michael back quickly.

“It’s time, Michael.” Brian pulled Michael up onto his feet, holding him. “Time to set the stage.” A kiss, then another. “Someone got all dirty without me today.” He traced the dried clay on Michael’s skin. “So I think you should grab a quick shower, and I’ll finish cleaning up.” When Michael turned to leave, Brian again held onto his hand. “I want you back stripped, Michael. Completely bare, except for these.” His fingers lingering on the cuff before Michael agreed.

Voice a whisper, “Yes, sir.” And then Michael walked away, looking back at Brian again before he shut the door.

- - - - - - -

“Brian?”

Turning at the sound of his name, Brian found Michael standing nude - skin rosy and warmed from his shower. Standing and staring at Brian with a mix of pleasure and surprise.

Brian held out his arms, hips cocked and eyes hungry, letting Michael get the full view. “You like?”

Michael clenched his fists, feeling the effect of seeing the way Brian was dressed. Feeling the burn of memory revisited…. His eyes dark and his breathing just this side of unsteady, Michael could only nod as he answered, “It’s even better the second time around.”

Clad in the same clothes he’d worn just a short time ago to the Leather Ball, Brian lowered his hands and hooked his thumbs over the top of the waist-less brown leather pants, pulling them down just a fraction lower than there was really room to go . . . the hint of brown curls, illicit in a way that made Michael’s gut clench. As did the exposed patch of skin showing below the tight silk brown sleeve-less tee Brian was wearing.

“Just a step back before taking a leap forward.” Brian mused, walking slowly, provocatively closer. “I enjoyed dressing you that night. Still do. Dressing you, undressing you. But tonight I’m giving you something else. Something that once you have, you aren’t to remove.” He smiled. “Not without permission.” Stopping just an inch away, he said, “Day and night. In public and at home, aside from showering and the gym, it stays on.”

For Michael, knowing what was going to happen paled to the reality of knowing it was happening now….

He remained caught, rooted to the spot by the power of Brian’s eyes and the empowerment of his voice. And all he could think to say was the one word that had come to mean everything, “Always.”

A nod, then Brian’s face grew serious. “And in all ways, mine.” Circling around to stand at Michael’s back, he placed a kiss on Michael’s neck - his hands smoothing up the line of his throat. “Close your eyes.”

Hardly a sound followed as Michael complied; his rapidly beating heart was the only thing he heard for the longest. And while it only lasted a moment, the wait creped on and on - one everlasting tick at a time.

Then it was done, sure and fast - one minute bare and the next not….

Michael fought to keep his eyes closed but the moment he felt the presence of Brian’s gift, it was all he could do to keep still. So he focused on the feel, the weight, the hold of the leather as it touched his skin. Unlike the collar he’d worn the night before, it wasn’t at all constrictive or restraining. Light, supple and smooth instead, it moved well as Michael turned his head.

A hand taking his, Brian was at his side. “Keep ‘em closed.”

“I want to see.”

Sounding fond, but amused, “You will. Just trust me.”

“I do.”

A pause, and then Brian answered back, “I do, too.”

It was an oath, a vow to a question not asked, but nonetheless made.

Legs feeling a little weaker than before, Michael held tight to Brian’s guiding hand until they stopped a few short steps later.

“Have a look, Mikey.”

The image reflected back in the mirror of the well lit bathroom struck Michael at first sight. Brian, beautiful at his back. Himself, staring forth with something akin to awe. But nothing held more fully in his mind, and heart, than the gift he wore. The tangible evidence of Brian’s claim.

The collar was sleek, stylish and with one look - most assuredly custom made. Choker style, but fit to his neck like it had been measured with comfort and care. It was square cut, edges smoothed, with alternating black leather and platinum links. About an inch and a half squared, each leather length was held attached to the next by three parallel platinum clasps stacked one on top of the other. And so it went, leather - platinum - leather - platinum - leather. The pattern following thus throughout, until they met in the back - two leather squares clasped together with a hidden slip hook. The collar built for beauty, but made for endurance and strength.

But for Michael, who thrilled at the sight of Brian’s gift, it was something more than all this that made the collar truly theirs. Truly intimate and uniquely Brian….

Sewn in the center of each leather square was a remnant of their past, and of one night that had solidified their bond - a bond that had lasted more than half their lives. A shell; each taken from the bracelet Brian had worn everyday since Michael had given it to him so many years ago. A total of five in all…. Taken from the original seven.

And then, one last touch.

Hanging from the center square, placed at the base of Michael’s throat was a platinum medallion. Flat and round, it lay cool against his skin; polished to shine. And with a closer look, also engraved. An italicized “A” on the front….

“Flip it up.” Brian’s voice pulled Michael’s eyes away from the collar; their gazes meeting in the glass for a moment - the look profound, before he did as Brian said.

On the back was one word….

“Always.” The two men speaking together, their voices melding as Michael again caught Brian’s eye. His own shining with emotion, as Brian pulled him round and into a kiss.

A kiss Michael poured himself into, hands buried in Brian’s hair as he rose up on his toes for more.

Humming his pleasure at Michael’s enthusiasm, Brian pulled back with a low chuckle. His eyes warm, a smile breaking as he laughed. “I take that to mean you like it.”

Michael reached up and ran his fingers over the collar. “It’s fantastic. I can’t believe, how did you…. It’s, I… You are amaz….”

“Amazing, I know.” Brian grinned as Michael smiled back, watching as his lover turned to look in the mirror again. “It looks good on you.”

“When did you do this?”

“Tuesday. The artist is a friend of Declan. I drove down for it today.” Brian enjoyed watching Michael as he kept looking in the mirror, touching the collar again and again. “It’s something that will pass as a necklace to most. But to you and me, it means you’re mine.” He caught Michael’s hand, turning him again. “Yes?”

Michael licked his lips, agreeing - his voice sure and glad. “Yes.”

Nodding his head back in the direction of the bedroom, Brian said, “Then there’s just one last thing to do.”

He guided Michael back to the fire, before stepping away to grab one of the two jewelry boxes resting on the dressing table that Michael hadn’t seen. Brian pointed to the larger box that he’d left. “It’s for your collar, on the few occasions you have it off when not at home. It has a combination lock built in.” Returning, Brian gave Michael the smaller box. He didn’t say anything else, just waited for Michael to open it.

Inside was another work of art; one that matched Michael’s collar perfectly. A cuff, again in black leather with a three inch span like the ones Michael was wearing. But with differences; centered and sewn into the leather was a platinum oval framed on either side by the last of the remaining shells from Brian’s bracelet. The oval itself was engraved in the same italics as Michael’s collar. But instead of the “A,” there were two initials entwined - one placed slightly higher than its mate. “M” and “B” - with the “M” being the one on high.

“Brian, it’s beautiful. Thank you.” He offered up his wrist for Brian to unbuckle the cuff so it could be replaced, only to have Brian shake his head.

“No, Michael. I’ve made my claim.” Brian held out his right hand, palm up. “Now it’s time for you to make yours.”

Michael looked from Brian to the cuff, and back - eyes large and mouth parted as what Brian was offering crystallized in his mind. “Really?”

Brian moved in closer, “If I’ve learned anything this past week, it’s that a claim is never one sided. If you’re mine, then I’m….”

“Mine.” Feeling a bit shaken, but anticipatory like someone putting the last puzzle piece in place, Michael pulled the cuff free and sheathed Brian’s wrist inside. Buckling it into place, before turning his hand to see. Michael stood, overwhelmed that it looked so right against Brian’s skin. The perfect fit, like it was meant to be all along.

Michael felt almost like he was floating, looking down from above at the wonder of seeing them together in a way that no one could have predicted. “This feels so….”

Brian nodded, the rush of the moment introducing a new kind of high as he stood the beneficiary of more than he ever knew he could want. “Intense.”

“Grown up, and….” Michael laughed, “Yeah, intense.” He leaned up, pressing a kiss against Brian’s mouth. Whispering true, “Love you.” Expecting Brian to only say his standard, ‘me too.’

Only to have Brian turn his already shaken world for a curve by saying instead, “I love you, back.”

Turning to catch Brian’s heavy lidded eyes, Michael asked, “Say it again.”

Hands coming up the frame Michael’s face, Brian brushed his lips to Michael’s own. “Love you.”

The kiss building, lips parting and a moan sounding in the air - Michael murmured softly. “Again….”

His time to whisper, Brian answered, “Let me show you instead.”

- - - - - - -

There is a place, between waking and dreams, were reality ebbs and perception kaleidoscopes. One touch feels like a thousand, and the line between what is real and imagined fades away.

For Michael, waking the next day was a slow process. He’d almost reach clarity, on the brink of opening his eyes, and then it would be lost again to a brief flash of what they’d done the night before. The sensation of Brian’s body against his, over his; the friction and slide of their skin. The sounds, rough and frantic then soft and murmuring. All these things floating in and out of his sleep-filled brain had Michael content to remain adrift, wrapped up in the warmth of Brian’s body and the sheets surrounding them.

And so they lay, hours passing until nature’s call and their own sense of playfulness had them awake and breathless once again. Michael muttered a protest when Brian reached back to remove the collar, settling down as Brian whispered that they needed to shower before meeting Dec and Ash for lunch.

“Just a quick in and out, and I’ll put it back once you’re dry.” Brian set the collar down on the bed, then his cuff before reaching to unfasten Michael’s cuffs. The process made difficult when Michael started laughing and rolled off the bed onto his feet. “What?”

“You even make taking a shower sound like sex.” Michael grinned, pulling off the leather at his wrists and throwing them onto the disarrayed bedding.

Rising, Brian stalked Michael around the bed - unhurried and with full confidence of his effect on Michael as he neared. “Who says the two are mutually exclusive?”

Stuttering as Brian caught him around the waist and held him captive and close, Michael managed, “Not…. Not me.”

Brian leaned in, kissing Michael slowly; his tongue passing into the heat of Michael’s mouth only briefly before he stopped. “After you….”

Michael cleared his throat, turning to go but not before throwing a look over his shoulder. “You just want to look at my ass.”

Drawing out each syllable, Brian agreed, “Absolutely,” before following right - well, behind.

- - - - - - -

The two barely made lunch; the shower having run long and wet.

Of course, Brian’s addition to Michael’s wardrobe had made them later still. Not the collar; it was fastened in place along with the cuffs quickly upon their return to the bedroom. No, it was another item that Brian had added underneath Michael’s clothing - jeans, tight, and long-sleeved black tee fitted - that caused the delay.

“Tell me how it feels.” Brian held Michael to his chest, standing at the smaller man’s back after having caught him just before they turned to head into the kitchen.

Michael gasped, and then shifted as Brian dropped a wandering hand to caress against the seam of his jeans. The fingers circling in, and then pressing down along his crease. Pushing against….

“Brian, please. I’m not going to be able to walk if you keep doing that.”

Brian laughed, the sound intimate and deep. “Not until you tell me, Mikey.”

Closing his eyes, Michael shivered and tried to keep his hips still as Brian continued to tease him. To tease the toy he’d placed inside; a plug made of clear acrylic, narrow at the base with an oval flange that pressed against Michael’s prostate as he moved. Or rather, as Brian continued to torment him. “It’s, ahhh. It’s hard, filling me… Fuck.”

Brian dropped his hand down, rubbing his palm against Michael’s groin. “You’re hard.” He released a satisfied hum, “I like that. I like knowing I can make you crazy like this.”

Michael slid his hand down Brian’s arm, stroking his fingers over Brian’s cuff. “You always made me this crazy; it’s just now I know you’ll do something about it.” He smiled even as he moaned.

“Oh trust me, it’s all I can do not to tear down your jeans and slid inside. Just like you want me to,” he groaned as Michael slipped a hand between his thighs, cupping Brian’s balls. “Shit, Michael. I’m teaching you too many of my tricks.”

“Who’s to say this isn’t one of my tricks.” Michael teased him back, turning the tables just a bit as he continued to move his hand.

The two were still caught up in the deadlock, when out of nowhere another’s voice caused them to turn their heads.

“My, my, my. And me without my popcorn.” Ashton was leaning against the entranceway, playing spectator for all he was worth. Looking relaxed in his navy sleep pants and white turtle neck. He walked over, pushing his sleeves up as he did - his tattoos showing.

Michael laughed as Brian pressed his face against his throat with a plaintive groan. Laughter that turned into a surprised gasp as Brian trailed his tongue along Michael’s skin, just below the collar. Dropping his wandering hand, Michael gave Brian a small shove; moving back with difficulty between the mix of his hard-on and the plug playing on his senses. “You are evil.”

Brian finally stepped back, smiling fondly. “You can bet that won’t make life boring.”

Michael glanced at Ash, the two men saying volumes with just a look. Both having had long experience with just how un-boring their lovers could be….

Ashton gave Brian a glance, then turned back to Michael. “I suggest taking vitamins, lots and lots of vitamins.”

He and Michael were still chuckling when Declan appeared, giving Ash’s bottom a pop. Which caused Ashton to jump half out of his skin. “Fucking hell, Dec. Owe.” He rubbed his bum, and stepped out of Declan’s reach. “I’ve been good. Just ask them.”

Brian interjected, “You‘re in America. Probably best to plead the Fifth.”

At Declan’s snort, Ashton reached out to take Michael’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “That’s right, have a go at me. It’s not like I’ve got an inch of butt left to burn.”

Still in the hall, Brian nodded at their retreating backs as he asked Declan, “Tell me, how has your hand NOT fallen off by now?”

Declan grinned back, speaking conspiratorially as he said, “Ash-wood paddles.” Seeing Brian shaking in head in amusement, Declan added. “I’m a proponent of irony.”

Chuckling, Brian said, “Perfect.”

They both turned quickly when they heard an exclamation from the kitchen, walking in the see what had caused the sound.

“It’s marvelous, Michael. God, you must be chuffed to bits! Hell, I’m chuffed just looking at it. Declan! Come see….”

Brian and Declan entered to find Michael smiling as Ash admired his collar. Dec walked over and looked for a long moment, before saying, “It’s a beautiful piece. One worthy of that smile.” He brushed the back of his fingers down Michael’s cheek, “He’s lucky to have you to wear it.”

Michael felt the sting in his eyes, dropping his gaze as he gave a nod of thanks for Declan’s graciousness. His hand rose to touch the leather at his throat, he looked up and said, “Thank you,” softly.

Declan asked, “For what?”

“For having us, for helping.”

Drawing Ash to his side, Dec smiled. “It’s been a pleasure. For us both.”

Brian came forward and encircled Michael’s waist - his own cuff shining in the light of the room. He nodded to Ash and Dec, saying his thanks in gesture rather than word.

Ash’s eyes caught the addition to Brian’s wardrobe and whistled, “They’re a matched set.” He looked at Declan, “Andre?”

The Irishman answered, “He’s the best.”

Michael looked up at Brian, smiling. “And Brian only likes the best.”

Brian pressed a kiss to Michael’s forehead, “Well, I do like you.”

Hugging Brian‘s arm, Michael said, “I kinda like you back.”

The moment ended with the uncontrollable rumbling of someone’s stomach….

“Opps, sorry.” Ashton pressed a hand to his stomach, grinning as the others laughed.

It served as a reminder to all that their lunch was growing cooler by the minute. So with a, “Gentlemen, shall we,” from Declan, they sat down to eat.

- - - - - - -

After an amusing turn at having lunch when two of the four present were having various problems keeping still, Ashton due to his hot buns and Michael due to the plug pressing just so inside - the pairs parted company for the afternoon. Ashton dragging Dec off for some quality sauna time, as Brian took Michael back to their room to play.

But not before Declan gave Michael the go ahead that “it” would be ready later that afternoon.

Having overheard the “it” reference, Brian spent a long while trying to wheedle, tickle, tease and then seduce the information out of Michael.

It was surprising to them both that Michael managed keep the secret through it all. But he’d learned a few methods of distraction of his own that helped.

And then, after most of the day was gone and they both were done-in enough for calmer things, Michael pulled away from Brian’s reaching hands and told him to get dressed. Smiling as he fastened his jeans and sidestepped the shirt Brian threw at his head, Michael asked, “Wanna play follow the leader?”

Brian languidly moved off the bed, scratching his flat belly. “Does it entail watching your ass move while I’m thinking lewd and lascivious thoughts?”

Snorting, Michael mused, “I’m amazed either of us has any higher brain function after the last couple hours.”

Brian pushed his long legs into his jeans, pulling them up but leaving them unbuttoned as he drew his sweater over his head. His voice sounding through the fabric before he’d fully cleared the neck, “That’s why they call sex mind-blowing, Mikey.”

It was only after he’d pulled the shirt down that Brian realized Michael had already raced out the door. Giving chase, Brian soon caught up to him on the first floor landing. He smiled as Michael teased, “Still working on catching that fifth wind?”

Brian grabbed Michael, tickling him as they both laughed. “The better to huff and puff you with.”

“Says my very own big bad wolf,” Michael could only shake his head, smiling at Brian as they came to a stop at the door to Declan’s studio. “You know you’re nuts, right?”

Intentionally misconstruing Michael’s words, Brian responded, “I’m intimately familiar with both of them, as are you.”

Michael whacked Brian on the arm as the taller man tried to pull Michael’s hand to his groin. “Stop,” he admonished. “Be good, and I’ll tell you what ‘it’ is.”

On the verge of laying in another pun, Brian stopped with one more look from Michael. He took on a fraudulently bashful expression and agreed, “I can be good. I can be very good.”

Voice intimate and soft, Michael said, “I know.” And then turning the knob, he opened the door and stepped through. Brian following inside. “I got to play studio assistant on Tuesday while Declan worked on his liquid dye series. And I thought you might like to see these. They’re shadow plays in black and white.” Michael turned on the backlight on Declan’s work table, placed a sheet of slides on top and handed Brian the magnifier lens. Grinning as he added, “Of Ashton.”

Ever the ad man, Brian bent to examine each slide one after the other. Giving each time and consideration, in silence and then looking up to say, “These are really good. He could be a professional. Print, galleries, the whole lot.” Giving a couple another look, Brian laughed. “Hell, he could give some of the guys in Ryder’s art department a run for their money.”

Michael had grown quiet, serious. “I thought you’d like them.”

Brian looked up to see Michael had moved to stand next to an easel, his arms hugged around his waist. Looking for all the world like he was nervous. “I do; they’re…. It’s like the longer you look, the more there is to see.” He walked to Michael’s side, putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in. “Michael, what’s….”

Michael interrupted, closing his eyes for only a moment before speaking. “I wanted to give you something, a gift. But I couldn’t think what, and then…. Then I saw those, saw what Declan could create and I asked. I asked him to help….”

When Brian started to ask what with, Michael reached out and pulled the white drape covering the easel, letting it drop to the floor as both men turned to look at what was featured on display.

The print, large - at least three feet square, was showcased in a black frame, black matte border and non-glare glass. But for all the attention to presentation, it was the photograph itself that was the most striking to the eye. Positioned on a pooled spill of black velvet was a man on his knees, back to the camera and resting back on his heels. Nude, his skin shone a brilliant white before the camera lens.

Shot at one quarter profile, his face was turned away from the viewer. His identity was additionally concealed by the angle of the lights from the side and overhead. The lights having been placed directly above, so that his face and upper torso were lost in the darkness that surrounded him. The resulting glow cascaded over his skin, down his back and over the curves of his behind and thigh - the detail so great that the rays were visible as they toughed him. And as they married back into the shadows playing along his opposite side and hip.

Drawn back and held bound, the man’s hands were crossed at the base of his spine. His submission shown in both the position of his body, and in the only adornment he wore against his skin….

A single silver chain that reflected with vibrancy, the links so delicate that they looked fragile. Falling down from around the man’s neck, it flowed along the length of his spine before being wrapped around his bare wrists. The message one of submission given, not forced. A choice made, and value known.

There were no details that screamed out who the man was, but with only a look….

“Michael, god. It’s….” Brian glanced at Michael, whose face was both pale and flushed, then back at the print. “That’s you.” Feeling Michael shifting away, Brian pulled him to stand in front and hugged him around the waist. Resting his chin on Michael’s shoulder, he continued to look at the photo. “It’s fucking amazing.”

Michael gave a nervous chuckle, “That’s what I said when I saw it. It feels a little unreal, like it’s not even me.”

Letting his eyes play over the image, Brian trailed his hand down over the curve of Michael’s hip then back over the curve of his ass. “Oh, it’s you alright. There’s no doubt.” He kissed the back of Michael’s neck, just below the collar. “And I know just the place I want it to go.”

Giving a groan, Michael said, “How about under the bed?”

“Oh, no fucking way. Nothing that hot should be hidden, collecting dust. It’s going up in the loft.”

Enjoying Brian’s vehemence despite his own qualms, Michael turned and smiled. “Only if you don’t tell everyone who sees it, that it’s me.”

Brian paused like he was thinking about it, then he said, “Officially, I ordered it from a gallery in New York.” He cupped Michael’s face, “Unofficially, it’s one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever gotten.” He kissed him, “Thank you, Mikey.

Kissing him back, Michael whispered, “You’re welcome.”

- - - - - - -

The rest of the evening progressed rather quickly, the four working together in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Homemade pizza, because it was Ashton’s favorite and the kitchen – at least for the evening, was his domain. Or rather, it was the battleground for his latent drill sergeant tendencies, as Declan told Brian and Michael after the three of them were assigned their duties and told to march to them: Declan on sauce duty, Michael cutting up vegetables and Brian handling the meat. And no, that last chore didn’t get assigned without a laugh passing at Brian’s expense. Not that he cared, since he was laughing the loudest.

Which left Ashton loaded for bear with making the dough. Which considering his vast experience with kneading clay, he felt he was best qualified for the job. “My ‘snatch, clean and jerk’ skills are legendary.”

Declan threw their guests a look, “Yeah, in his own head. And forgive the Rocky Horror reference. I think the last spanking may have rattled his brain.”

Needless to say, the meal, “came off – ha ha,” as Ashton said, with only a few hitches. All flour flicks and smudges of discipline considered.

It was only afterwards that Declan told them that he and Ash would be staying on for a few more days. His down time had been planned for two weeks, one at Havenshire and the other at home. But he’d decided to follow his muse and continue working on a new series of portraiture. One that veered away from shadow play, but was built instead around the form he’d discovered while doing Michael’s portrait.

Brian teased Michael, “Does that make you Serendipity?”

His answer was Michael’s elbow in his side, as their hosts looked on and laughed.

The couples parted ways for the night soon thereafter, but not before Michael gave Declan his thanks again for all he’d done to help with Brian’s gift. But the look in his eyes, and the message conveyed was more than that. It was a thank you for everything, for all the ways Declan had helped and all the ways he had guided them both, even as he’d left the way to their own choosing.

Declan‘s answer was a smile, small and with lips quirked before he said, “It’s been a joy, Michael. All of it…”

Feeling Brian hugging him from behind, Michael looked up in time to see Brian giving Declan a nod. A thank you from a man to which the words were foreign. Looking back Declan’s way, Michael grinned as he saw Ashton standing off to the side. Michael reached out and took his hand, pulling Ash in for a quick hug. “And you. Thanks for letting us horn in on your vacation.”

Ash laughed as Brian ruffled his hair before he could get away, “It’s been a blast. Despite the manhandling,” he said, shooting Brian a dark look that fell short on menace considering the merriment shining from his eyes.

Shaking his head, Declan drew Ash to his side and hugged an arm around his waist. “I happen to know you’re a big fan of manhandling, so hush.” Addressing Brian, he asked, “We’d like to see you two off; have you decided when you’re heading out?”

“Early, we have a lunch date to keep.”

Michael was surprised. “We do?”

Brian didn’t elaborate, just repeated, “We do.”

Good evenings were passed, and they all went to their rooms. Brian remained secretive, not answering Michael’s questions about Sunday’s plans. Instead, he pressed Michael down on the bed and set about driving him beyond the ability to think.

- - - - - - -

Part 11

- - - - - - -

“Stop fidgeting.” Brian had caught Michael out of the corner of his eye, watching him checking and rechecking himself in the mirror as Brian finished zipping up their bags. “You look fantastic.” Coming to stand behind him, Brian looked into the mirror. “You are fantastic.”

Smiling despite his nervous energy, Michael said, “You’ve said that before.”

Encircling Michael’s waist, Brian gave him a squeeze. “Bears repeating.” He turned Michael around and kissed him. “You’ve been quiet this morning.”

“Feeling a little off-kilter.” Michael shrugged, trying to dismiss the sensation.

“Because we’re going back, right? Time to face the lions and tigers and bears, oh my.” Brian grinned, arching his eyebrows as Michael gave him a shove.

“Don’t make me laugh….” Michael admonished, even as he was indeed laughing.

Growing serious after a bit, Brian said, “Hey, listen. Are you listening?” As Michael nodded, Brian moved his hand up to hold the back of Michael’s neck, feeling the leather of the collar against his palm. “I told you before, I protect what’s mine.”

Feeling his eyes watering, Michael closed them as he buried his face against Brian’s chest, hugging him tight. Murmuring quietly, “Love you.”

Brian nuzzled Michael’s dark hair, enjoying the scent and the feel of it against his face. “I’ve got your back,” he whispered, saying one last word softly against the shell of Michael’s ear. Knowing it would hold the power to act as a balm to Michael’s frazzled nerves. Even if only in the moment.

And with that one word, “baby,” said close and low between them, Michael took a breath and gave in to letting go.

- - - - - - -

“Remember, give us a ring in a few days. I’m looking forward to seeing your store.” Ash’s enthusiastic words sounded over the rev of Brian’s jeep coming from behind them. The bags were inside, and the engine was running, warmed for the trip back.

“It’s not much, just a hole in the wall.” Michael smiled, pulling his business card from his wallet to give to Ashton.

“I doubt that, Michael. But even so, it’s yours and I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Michael laughed as Ashton gave him a quick hug. Saying their goodbyes, he turned to get into the jeep.

Declan stood at the driver’s side door, shaking hands with Brian before handing him an envelope. “The negatives from Michael’s photo shoot. I thought you’d like them for safe keeping.”

Brian looked down at the envelope for a moment, then back at Declan. “Thanks. For all of it.”

With a small smile, Declan nodded. “Keep in touch.”

Brian agreed, “Definitely.”

Declan gave Michael a wave, then stepped back as Ashton came around. A ball of energy, one whose magnetism was infectious and rare. “Keep safe.” Then unexpectedly, he leaned into the open door and pressed a quick kiss to Brian’s cheek. “And keep him. He‘s your best feature.”

Breaking out in a laugh, Brian replied, “That’s been a given since we were fourteen.”

One last wave to Michael, and then Ashton closed Brian’s door and leaned back against Declan to watch them drive off. The two men wrapped together against a blanket of snow as the jeep sped further and further away.

- - - - - - -

“Why didn’t you tell me this was where we were going?” Michael’s voice sounded small within the cabin of the vehicle, as he looked out the window at the first stop they’d made since returning to the Pitts.

“Because if I had, you’d have been stressing out the whole way here. As it is, you’re shaking.” Brian took Michael‘s hand, waiting till he turned from the window to say, “I want this settled today, no more wondering and waiting for the bomb to land.”

Giving a nervous laugh, Michael replied, “No, you just want us to walk in carrying a news grenade and then pull out the pin.”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah. Mikey, no one’s going to take us being together seriously or show us any respect if we aren’t willing to be up front about it.”

Michael took a deep breath, and then agreed. “Ok, but if there is any head spinning or flame throwing, my ass is so out of there.”

Brian smiled, “Works for me.”

And so with faces not unlike that of dead men walking, the two exited the jeep and entered their destination - hand in hand.

- - - - - - -

One moment the air was filled with a mix of the jingle of the Liberty Diner door as it closed at their backs and the room filled with conversation, the next there was nothing but the loud shout of Michael’s name and the smothering pressure of a mother’s arms.

“Michael! You little asshole, where have you been?” Not that Michael could answer given he was fight to be able to just breathe, which he finally did as Debbie turned her eye on the man at his back. “And you,” a finger poked into Brian’s chest, “what’s the idea, orchestrating this disappearing act and taking my baby away without a word to me?”

Rubbing his chest, Brian answered, “The idea was that Michael is a grown man who can take a few days vacation without it being a major drama, Deb.”

Michael managed to free himself from his mother’s hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it just all happened too fast.” It was a lame excuse, but he wasn’t about to tell her how it really happened. She had enough ammo without the details. Trying to waylay the string of what-if’s that he knew she was prone to, he veered onto another topic, “How was your week? Any good gossip that we may have missed.”

“You mean aside from my son being kidnapped from family and home without a word or forwarding phone number, no. Can’t think of a thing.” She shot Brian another look.

Giving her his exaggerated fake laughing face, Brian came up and put an arm over Michael’s shoulders. “We probably could, couldn’t we, Mikey?” Only to laugh as Michael gave him a look that said get serious now, or else. So, clearing his throat, Brian nodded to the booth in the back and asked, “Can you take a break, Deb? We needed to talk to you.”

It was a good hour before the lunch crowd would begin to trickle in. Which they all knew. So despite giving Brian a suspicious look, she nodded and gave a shout into the back that she’d be on again in a few minutes.

Tugging on Michael’s hand, Brian walked to the back. Taking off his coat, then grabbing Michael’s, Brian threw them over the table and then slid into the booth. Sitting with his back to the room, he patted the seat beside him and smiled as Michael settled in close. Brian looked at him, enjoying that he’d had Michael wear the black cashmere sweater over jeans. The V-neck showed off the collar beautifully. Before Deb got to the booth, he leaned in and purred into the other man’s ear. “You’re making me hard just sitting there. Feel….” Grabbing Michael’s hand, Brian pulled it down under the table only to have Michael jerk away with a laugh, smiling at Brian’s antics despite the potential horror that was looming.

“Behave, Brian.” Michael’s voice fading into silence as his mother sat across from them.

“The word’s not in his vocabulary,” she laughed. “So what’s up?”

Brian couldn’t help it, her phrasing had him snickering as Michael nudged him in the ribs.

Frowning, she asked, “What’s with him?”

Trying to cover as he tried not to smile himself, Michael answered, “It’s nothing, mom. Just ignore him.”

“Many have tried and failed, Mikey. I’m rather unforgettable.”

Debbie shook her head and said with affection, “There’s not enough booth space for you and your ego, kid. Now you wanna tell me….” She stopped abruptly, her eye caught on something new. “Michael, what are you . . . when did you get that?”

Knowing she’d seen the collar, a.k.a. necklace, Michael won the battle with himself not to duck his head. Instead, he gave into the pride he felt at having been given it in the first place. “Brian gave it to me. Do you like it?”

Debbie considered the piece, then said, “It’s beautiful, but what’s the occasion?” She knew something was up, especially once she saw…. “Those look like they match the bracelet you gave Brian.”

With intent, Brian pushed up the sleeve of his pullover and placed his right arm flat onto the table. Making sure that the bracelet showed, and that the platinum shone in the light. “They’re the same ones.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of it, at seeing their two initials locked together for all to see. She looked back to Michael’s collar, then to the cuff and back again. Michael’s blushing face telling her more than even the jewelry could. “What are you telling me?”

Threading his left hand through the hair at the back of Michael’s neck, Brian drew her gaze and held it as he answered. “That even lost boys can grow up, and find their way home.” Knowing this wasn’t a moment he could half-ass or side-step, Brian said the words he knew both Debbie and Michael needed to hear. “I love him, Debbie. And despite my faults, he loves me.”

Surprisingly non-reactive, Debbie just looked at them and then calmly asked, “To clarify, love or in love?”

Turning to look into Michael’s dark eyes, Brian answered, “All in.” He lifted his hand from the table and touched the medallion at the base of Michael’s throat, tracing the “A” with his fingers. “Always.”

Michael closed his eyes as Brian leaned in and kissed him, the moment stretching on between them until they noticed Debbie had left the booth. Turning, he saw that she was standing at the foot of the table. Lips turned up in a smile.

Frowning, Michael asked, “Mom? Aren’t you going to yell, shout? Take a fork to Brian‘s balls?”

Brian shifted in his seat, “Hey, watch the imagery.”

Even Debbie had to laugh, but then she looked at them and grew thoughtful. Almost sadly resolute. When she spoke, it was to Brian. “From the very first, you have been a driving force in Michael’s life. I haven’t always approved or liked your hold on one another, but I’ve seen the power and the strength it’s given you both. There are just some things it’s useless to fight against.” Looking at Michael for a moment, she addressed Brian again, “He’s loved you for more than half his life, wanted you more than any other. Having you, will be everything.”

She paused, then said, “So as much as I’d like to wave the motherly wand and make all roads smooth and carefree, all I can do is say make him happy and don’t fuck it up.” Her voice wavered with emotion, but she held it back and smiled. Giving Michael a kiss on his forehead, Debbie rubbed at the mark of her lipstick before turning to Brian. She held out her hand, and it was to his credit that Brian only paused for a second before he placed his right hand in hers. Brushing her fingers over their initials, her eyes watered. “It’s beautiful. You little shit.” The last was punctuated by a quick slap upside Brian’s head, and then she was gone. Back to work, and into the kitchen as the two of them sat more than a little amazed.

Rubbing his head, Brian commented, “Who was that wacky wigged woman?”

“I have no idea.” Michael shifted to face him. “She didn’t blow a gasket and I still feel like we went three rounds with a heavyweight.” He saw the look that crossed Brian’s face, and quickly stopped him as Brian opened his mouth to reply. “Do NOT say it. That wasn’t meant as a set up for you to pun.”

Grinning, Brian held up to temptation and asked instead, “You hungry?”

Michael shook his head, “I don’t think I could eat for awhile. My stomach is still tied up in knots.”

Pressing close, Brian leaned in and brushed his lips against Michael’s. “Who said anything about food?” Kissing him slow and deep as the two of them remained unmindful of the looks of surprise that the regular diners were throwing their way, Brian drew back with reluctance to say, “I’m taking you home.”

A statement to which Michael only had one reply. “Yes, please.”

- - - - - - -

“Ahhh, it won’t fit.”

“It’ll fit.”

“No it won’t. I’m trying to get it in, but either it’s too big or the damn thing is too tight.”

“Fuck, wait.”

“Wait? No way, we’re here and we’re doing this, so suck it up so I can get inside.”

It was too much, really. One minute they were locked together, breathless and frantic. The next, Brian replayed Michael’s words in his head and a split second later he was laughing his ass off as Michael tried to squeeze his fingers into Brian’s pocket. Scrambling against the constriction of tight denim, made worse by Brian’s hard-on, to pull the loft keys out of his pocket.

Michael frowned as Brian’s laughter echoed loudly in the hall, “What?” He was still trapped, pressed against the wall by Brian’s body, with his hand trying to work its way between them and into Brian’s jeans. Smiling in question, it only took one glance from Brian - the look directed to where Michael’s fingers were wedged half in and out of his pocket, for Michael realize just what had Brian so amused. “Oh ha, ha. You do it then.”

“I plan on doing ‘it’ well, and often. And more importantly, very very soon. Now,” he leaned in and blew a hot stream of breath up the line of Michael’s neck. Speaking against his ear, “Ask me the secret to gaining the prize.”

Pressing even closer, Michael hooked his thumbs through Brian’s belt loops and grinned. Whispering, “What’s the secret?”

Eyes shining mischievously, Brian reached down and gave his button fly one long pull; until both sides parted like a frame for dark curls. Pulling Michael’s hand to just - the - right - spot . . . and to the left. “Sesame’s open, come right on inside.”

Fingers in Brian’s pocket, Michael took the keys in hand. Giving them a rattle, he stood on his toes and kissed his response onto Brian’s lips, “Open the door. Now.”

Brian kissed him back, feeling the flame sparking higher as Michael sealed the deal with a sweep of his tongue. With a nod, Brian moved back and took the keys from Michael, but caught his hand and said with a smile, “Pushy bottom.”

Michael threw Brian a look, while trying not to laugh, and answered back, “Get us inside, and you can push into my bottom all you like.”

Affecting a look of shock, Brian gave a look around. “Did you just channel Ashton Forster? Or did he throw his voice?”

Michael folded his arms, and crooked his head. Saying with a patience his hard-on shouldn’t afford, “Loft. Key. You. Me. Now….”

- - - - - - -

Having been in the loft thousands of times through the years, Michael entered quickly but made no attempt to look around. He threw off his coat with an eager impatience and quickly toed off his shoes, even starting on his belt before he turned to see that Brian wasn’t doing anything at all….

Anything but standing by the now closed door, leaning against it after having thrown his coat on the floor. Leaning and looking at Michael, face both feral and strangely serious. Like he was torn between pouncing and waiting for the preverbal shoe to drop.

“Brian?”

Brian pushed off from the door and walked towards Michael, circling behind him at the last minute. Standing tall at Michael’s back as they faced the door, he murmured, “Somebody’s got a seeee-cret.“

“What?“ Laughing, Michael looked up and asked, “Who?“

Brian hugged him, then with a kiss, he answered. “Me.“ He waked around front, until he was Michael’s whole view. “Wanna know what it is?”

Michael gave Brian a look that said ‘duh,’ but Brian didn’t budge until Michael joked, “Starts with a ‘Y’ and ends in a ‘S’….”

Grinning, Brian shook his head at Michael expression, at the energy that was radiating from his smile. “Well, let’s see. It’s big.” He moved a step closer. “It‘s ready.” Another step, almost touching. “And it’s all for you.” Chest to chest, he stopped. “And me.” Brian pressed his forehead to Michael’s, arms around his shoulders.

Michael brushed his hand up Brian’s thigh, coming in between them to thread his fingers through the curls still showing out of Brian’s open fly. “Feels like the secret’s ready to come to light.”

Sucking in a breath as Michael pushed inside his jeans; Brian quickly caught his wrist and stopped the tease. “Not yet, close your eyes.”

Thinking it was another game, another form of foreplay, Michael did. But laughed as Brian guided him around, then walked him blind a few steps until Michael was lost to which direction they were facing.

Brian brushed his hand under the sweater Michael was wearing and caressed the small of his back, keeping them connected with a touch as he opened himself, and his life in a way he never had before…. “Welcome home, Michael.”

Understanding it to be permission, Michael opened his eyes and…. “Brian! How did you, why is he here?”

Right in front of them was one of Michael’s most treasured things, something he’d had for years and years. A staple of his life in so many ways, a gift from Brian that Michael had and would forever value.

Captain Astro, now hung on display against the wall of Brian’s loft. Positioned to the right of the loft door, past Brian’s computer desk; it was suspended on the wall that had previously held a full length mirror. Illuminated from above by a new light, one installed to cascade softly over the vibrant colors of the artwork.

At Michael’s side, Brian shrugged. “He goes where you go.”

“Where I go? But….”

“Shhh…. Just listen. I made a choice when I claimed you.” Brian turned Michael to face the room, standing at his back. “When I took you, it was to keep you. Close,” he leaned in, “very, very close.” Passing Michael, Brian walked further into the room, turned back and spread his arms out as he said again, “Welcome home, Michael.” Dropping his arms, he smiled softly. “Have a look around.”

Turning his head left and right, Michael’s eyes grew wide with surprise. He looked back at Brian, “You, you want me to live here?”

Grinning now, enjoying the moment as it dawned across Michael’s face, Brian said, “Looks like you already do….” Laughing he sat on a stool at the kitchen island, looking more relaxed than he felt as Michael began to walk around.

In a space that had forever been streamlined and cool, Michael saw with astonished eyes that the loft was now a mix of Brian’s style and his own warmth and clutter. All his things, spread out and at home in their new place. Fuck, it was . . . everything was, theirs. Interwoven with style and a consideration for detail that had Michael shaking his head in surprise as he walked through the different areas of the loft.

The kitchen - his magnets and pictures were on the fridge, arranged in an array over the steel shine of the doors. The odd ceramic novelty from his superhero collection sitting here and there on the counters; his mugs mixed in with Brian’s own.

The corner to the left of the kitchen was completely rearranged. Though Brian’s black leather chair remained, the area was pure Michael. Book and display shelves lined both walls; filled to capacity, though neatly organized with his collection of books, games and some of his treasured collectables that he’d thought too valuable to display at his store. All of it an odd, but fitting mix with the simplicity of the dining area, which remained the same.

Walking back past an amused but still silent Brian, Michael looked over at the computer desk and noticed what he’d not seen before - his eyes having been drawn only to Captain Astro. The desk was the same, but the mouse pad was his. Along the walls, on either side of the steel shelves that held Brian’s music system, were new CD racks to hold the addition of his CD’s and programs, standing side by side with Brian‘s own.

The living room was much the same; the shag carpet, side chairs and glass table remained. But the sofa had a few additions; soft pillows in burgundy were positioned on either end, an incredibly beautiful multicolored crazy quilted throw arranged artfully over the back - the colors rich and vibrate against the white sofa. Almost like an empty canvas being embraced by a comic book heart….

Michael had to laugh, despite the lump in his throat and the emotions running so close beneath the surface, as he saw his Wonder Woman coasters on the glass table.

In the TV area, again the combining showed through. Furniture the same, but with Michael’s gaming equipment now on the same stand as Brian’s entertainment center. To the left of the television was Michael’s statue of Superman’s upper torso and head, placed in the corner on the floor. The cabinets on the left were opened to show that their video and DVD collections were now housed together on separate sides. A few of his pictures and figurines had been placed on top to be easily seen.

“Guess what’s going on the wall over the television….”

Michael turned to find Brian at his back. Shrugging, he asked, “Give me a hint?” But one look at Brian’s expression, and the way his eyes were traveling up Michael’s body gave it away. “Oh, no you are NOT. You wouldn‘t.”

Brian arched his eyebrow in response, grinning like the devil he was. “Michael. I have a naked man up in my dining room, so you can bet that I would put your ass up in here.” When Michael shook his head and started to protest, Brian put a finger to his lips to stop him. “It’s going up, I’ve already decided. And the spot is NOT negotiable.” Pressing a kiss to Michael’s forehead, Brian took his hand and pulled him over by the stairs. “Besides, we’ve already got the story worked out, remember.”

“It’s not the story, it’s my ass. On the wall.” Michael gave a nervous laugh, feeling his face heating.

“All the better, considering the value I place on your ass.” Brian teased. “Now, on to the most important items, which you’ve been too adorably flabbergasted to ask about yet.” Reaching down, he opened first one, then another and then another of the cabinet drawers built into the forefront of platform to the left of the stairs, just under the glass panels that made up his bedroom walls. “Voila, all safe and sound. And in corresponding Novotny order….”

Michael’s comics, his entire private collection, was thoughtfully housed within the cabinet. Each deep drawer had a custom fitted collector’s box placed inside, and was filled with safety wrapped comic books that Michael had been collecting since he was a kid.

“God, Brian. How did you do all of this? When?”

“I enlisted a few co-conspirators. Vic, Emmett and Ted. Who, by the way, are holding onto the latest gossip that Brian Kinney and Michael Novotny are now happily living and fucking together, only by the skin of their teeth. And under much duress, and threats of ball breaking - at least on the Temmets’ parts.”

Brian closed the drawers, then he stood and pulled Michael close. “I told them no phone calls until Monday, so expect your ear to be talked off tomorrow.”

“You’re telling me they’ve held their tongues on something THIS big, since what? Tuesday? That must have been one hell of a conversation.”

“Why do you think I was so late getting back to you? I had to break the news, convince them I wasn’t lying or pulling their legs and then get them to help getting all this setup. Not to mention checking in on them Friday to make sure they’d handled things like I’d asked. And all without them saying anything to a certain synthetic red head.”

Michael laughed, “My own miracle worker.”

Brian nodded, “It’s a knack.” He walked up the stairs, “Want to see the rest?”

Following him, Michael looked around again in amazement. It was the same, but different. New…. The ledge on the right was now home to Michael’s small metal planes and tin toy soldiers. The same ones he’d had to try and explain the emotional and historic value of to David, what felt so long ago. The chest of drawers on the right of the bed was larger; the same style as before but almost twice the size. The photograph of Gus on top, was now joined by Michael’s framed pictures of him and Brian, and a group shot of them with Emmett and Ted taken a couple years back. A quick glance towards Brian showed that the closet had been divided and filled up as well.

And last, the bed…. The same, but covered now in vibrant China red. Sheets, duvet and pillows, too. A color Michael obviously loved considering the color of his old bedroom furniture. A color Brian wanted to see Michael spread out against as he took him….

Speaking of which….

Brian pulled his shirt over his head, toeing off his shoes as he pushed his jeans down his legs. Naked, he threw back the duvet and sprawled out over the sheets; his leather clad wrist moving up and down as he lightly stroked his cock. A hot look in his eyes and a knowing smile on his face, “So…. Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

Michael, who had been staring since Brian’s clothing hit the floor, quickly switched back into the need they’d been building since leaving the diner. He pulled off his shoes, and then quickly took off the sweater and his jeans before climbing onto the bed. The collar and cuffs dark and beautiful against his skin. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he gasped as Brian rolled on top, pushing him flat onto the bed.

“Hmmm, how about this,” Brian whispered; his words said low and intimate between them. “How about having me inside you till we both come screaming….”

“Oh, fuck . . . yeah.” Michael tried to arch up and kiss him, only to have Brian pull out of reach.

Reaching down, Brian‘s hand disappeared between Michael‘s thighs. Pressing just so…. “Say it, come on.”

“Please, ohh. Do it.” Zero to a hundred, Michael moaned as Brian’s touch traveled over his cock, his balls and then back. The feeling as new under Brian’s hands now as it had been only days before.

Catching Michael’s mouth in a kiss, Brian murmured in appreciation as Michael gasped and thrust against his own hard length. He dropped down, pressing his lips over Michael’s nipples, laving them with his tongue until demanding hands pulled him closer - Michael demanding even more; crying out as Brian nipped and sucked with more force.

With a feral expression, Brian lifted his head and took Michael’s hand, drawing it down to cover the shaft of his own cock. “Touch yourself, Mikey.” Brian rose up onto his knees and trailed his hands over his body, waiting, watching as Michael panted and did as he wanted.

Burning from the inside and the out, Michael had reached the point in passion beyond self-consciousness. It wasn’t even a thought anymore as to what he must look like; it was only how it made him feel. How he could make Brian feel as he licked his fingers, then his palm and let his hand travel down to touch, to take himself in a grip, and with a stroke that made him arch and moan.

Just the sight of Michael, wanton, needful and so sure - had Brian reaching for a condom and lube faster than he’d intended. His own need zinging through his body, edging his nerves and roaring through his veins….

One last thought flashing through Brian’s brain. Later, later he would take him slow. And long.

It wasn’t an option in the now that was pale skin, lips tinged red calling his name and Michael’s glinting black eyes.

And then for them both, it was the press, slick and strong. The push inside and the clench that warred with full and tight.

Brian over him, holding him down as Michael opened and gave him everything.

Michael against him, clinging tight as Brian thrust and worked them both higher. Taking all, and now.

It was furious and fast, the two of them crying out and moving in a tangle of limbs and flesh. As cathartic as it was overwhelming.

The moment, when it came, hit hard; spinning them past the point of control or even speech as Michael jerked and shook and Brian flung his head back in a silent scream. Both caught in the bliss and winded in the rush, as they fell into each other and collapsed on the bed.

Neither spoke, each knowing a new ease in not having to….

For what could be said between them that they didn’t already, and finally, know.

So instead, they lay. Content in being as they were.

Encompassed together, in love….

Finis

Author Notes -

Part One:

a) Brian and Michael seem to have Babylon traditions, meaning nights where they HAVE to be there together. Like Studs and Suds…. (Remember Brian’s disappointment when Michael missed out on that one?) But I always wondered about the Leather Ball. What if that was the one night a year where Michael always bowed out, or had an excuse not to go? Which was the springboard for this fic…..

b) Yes, I am aware that this is the third story I’ve built off of the Leather Ball episode…lol. Can you name the other two US Qaf Fics I’ve done around it??? And the pairings….lol.

c) Brian’s brown leather pants - kinda inspired by a pair worn by Jim Morrison. Michael’s - I actually had written that part WELLLLLLL before Hal Sparks wore leather jean-cut pants on Halloween…lol, but when he did, I was sooooooooooo happy to have a visual…THUD.

d) Yes, Michael’s cuffs are inspired by the ones that Hal Sparks wears. Sighhh….

e) By now, you may have guessed that the two demonstrations at the Leather Ball were opposing circumstances - the kind of pain-play Michael did not want, and the kind of submission he did. Even from the start, it wasn’t about pain. It was the giving over….

f) Pay attention, in this part and throughout the story, to when Brian’s changes up using “Mikey” and “Michael” - quite often, it’s done that way deliberately for emotional emphasis.

Part Two:

a) The name Dominion seemed to fit…and was not meant as a religious reference.

b) I touched on a supposed past experience for Brian in this chapter; mostly because there was a tone in his voice when the Meat Hook was referenced in the premier episode of US QAF, and his own stories of having had sex with a trick who liked to be spanked…lol. Plus the tying up Ben at the white party…thud.

Part Three:

a) Why not just get right to the point…lol - hence, “Take off your clothes…” sighhhh…. Plus, have you noticed in a lot of Michael’s sex/love scenes - he’s the one talking off his own clothes. So why not have Brian do it for him….yum.

b) I tried to convey it as best (and with as much angst) as I could, but let me truly clarify. Michael was not attacked during his one-off with Dylan. He was roughed up, manhandled - but not forced. He went into it, albeit very naively, with a recklessness that was ill advised - as he’ll later learn. He was fortunate not to have had a worse experience than he did; and this Brian knows well.

c) I admit that I have serious issues with my characters getting all shaggy and orgasmic in front of mirrors…lol. This is just another example of that. I’m a voyeur, through and through. And with such pretty boys to work with, why not?

d) I believe Michael’s interest in bondage is canon. As we learned from his night with Ben. So is Brian’s…lol, as we saw from his White Party shag with Ben. So the belt is just the first of my forays into their mutual enjoyment of giving / receiving control.

e) Brian’s possessiveness of Michael, and/or his protective instincts towards Michael are also canon. So many factors like that just seemed to flow and meld brilliantly with this story’s themes - how could I not use them?

f) Soooo, you think Brian would never seek help from a third party when his friend and/or lover is feeling emotional/mental pain? Well, you’re wrong. It’s also canon. He did ask for advice for Justin’s bashing recovery, and I have him returning to ask for more advice from the very same character here. This also makes Brian’s choice to take Michael to see a certain Irishman in part 4, more plausible in my mind.

g) Sighhh, Brian dressing Michael. Hehe… I loved seeing it on the show, and had to use it in this story. More than once…THUD.

Part Four:

a) I had intended all along to have a couple already in a relationship, and the scene - to which Brian and Michael could look for guidance, etc. And while this is not a crossover, I couldn’t resist using the physical representations of Craig Kelly and Aidan Gillen to work off…. Soooo, take a look here if you’ve missed the link before to see the four pictures I used to base Ashton Forster and Declan Rai on -

http://www.qaf-fic.com/xof/pics/pics.html

b) So my beta - hiya, Alexis! - fell in love with Ashton from the get go…. Probably from the instant he told Declan to hush over the intercom…lol. Though truly, I tried to make them both equals in the affections of the readers - Ashton’s mouth got him a lot more focus… Which is fine; I was shaking my own head and laughing at half the things he said - wondering where in me that all came from…lol.

c) Here’s some fun info - I spent a lot of time coming up with the character’s names. And the original title of the story played into why I chose the way I did. For months I thought I was going to call the story, “Misha.” Misha being a Russian variation on Michael. It was supposed to be Michael’s scene name, suggested by Declan - who I’d decided was half Irish and half Russian. So while I did keep Declan’s origins, I lost the Misha references - playing more on Mikey and Michael to convey emotions and importance to each scene.

d) Declan Rai = Declan is an Irish name, anglicized version of the Gaelic Deaglán, and I liked the nickname of Dec. Declan means “goodness.” Rai is a Russian surname - it means “paradise.” Do you get the irony? He’s a sexual dominant that’s all goodness and paradise…lol.

e) Ashton Forster = I chose Forster for his last name as a tribute to E.M. Forster - the author of “Maurice” - “A Room With A View” - “Howard’s End” - etc…. His first name was harder to choose, but then I came across this page and it was astonishingly appropriate for him:

http://www.wooddragonarts.freeserve.co.uk/Ash%20Nuin%20Symbolism.htm

How could I not use the name Ashton after reading that, using his nickname Ash to go with Declan’s Dec?

f) I wanted Michael to hold onto his fire, even as he gave over to Brian. Which is why I had him getting so pissed off at the thought that Brian was going to hand him over to Declan. He’s not supposed to lose himself in this story; instead he finds a strength in learning more of who he truly is. Knowledge is power, after all.

g) Yes, Declan made a Spiderman reference…lol. Can you pick it out? I knew that you could. (That’s an ode to both Michael and Hal’s interests in the Spiderman comic books and movies.)

h) You probably noticed, but in case not - I harkened back to Brian’s answer to Michael’s “I don’t know where the fuck I belong” - the kiss that ended with Brian saying, “There, that’s where.” Sighhh… Not only does the man love Michael, he flat out tells him he belongs to/with him. Thud….

i) Michael’s repeating of Brian’s love mantra - “Brian doesn’t do love” - isn’t meant to mean he thinks Brian doesn’t love him. He just says it without thinking, because it is Brian’s broken record. It’s Brian’s journey in this story to make Michael (and himself) understand that it has never held true between them.

j) The surveys are used by serious scene players - and they cover both likes/dislikes and limits. I was going to include them more fully, but realized that I didn’t need to in the long run. Why talk about it when I could show it? Lol…. But know that a lot of what happens in the fic is dictated by the answers that both Brian and Michael gave to Declan and Ashton.

k) I always wanted Ashton to be an artist, but never wanted anyone to think I was setting him up as a Justin substitute - for “Rage,” etc. Hence why I chose sculpture as his chosen medium. (I’m an art historian, btw - and his sculptures are largely based on Michelangelo’s unfinished slave sculptures. The ones that look almost like the men are emerging from the marble by force of will, even while restrained from the freedom they seem to seek.)

l) Yes, some would think letting Brian play with him in front of Declan would be out of character for Michael. Here’s why I don’t think it’s such a problem. They are doing so for a specific reason - not on a whim. Brian certainly would have no qualms about public sex considering his history; in fact it would excite him. As long as it’s on his terms, as I have shown with his agreement with Declan that Michael not be touched in a sexual way by anyone but Brian. As for Michael, yes - it’s outside the norm - but so is the entire situation. And he has himself had sex in front of others, not being a stranger to Babylon’s backroom too.

m) This moment of play before Declan is meant to enforce Brian’s dominance, but also to show that ultimately Michael has the ultimate control. It’s called a safe word, darlins’…. And is a must have in any kind of scene play. As for why I chose “Zephyr” - think of what it means. How could I not?

n) The rooftop scene is a favorite of mine, and of soooo many others. I wanted to reference back to it, and this moment in the story seemed the most appropriate.

o) And never let it be said that Michael isn’t as into sex as Brian…lol. Once he gets the chance, he’s frisky and imaginative as anyone could be. And as naughty, as Brian finds out once Declan leaves.

Part Five:

a) Why does Brian answer the phone while he’s being ravaged by Michael? For the same reason he often answers the door naked….lol He ALWAYS DOES on the show…lol. Plus, it was fun to write.

b) It’s also fun to see how well Declan recognized himself in Brian, and vice-versa

c) Michael’s joke about his not having any more reservations about sticking his hands down Brian’s pants now - remember, due to my timeline - the whole cell phone down Brian’s pants on the way to the underwear party never happens - but it was too good a moment not to play off of….lol.

d) Want to see what Declan’s house looks like? Havenshire? Here you go…. (Just picture it in winter, rather than spring.)

http://www.rosecityrealty.com/images/residential/744910.jpg

e) As you can tell from the get go after they enter the house, they are not in Kansas anymore….lol. And while yes, I do have them doing wild and erotic things together - remember, it’s all about intimacy, love and experiencing new things within the realm of them still being Brian and Michael. Declan and Ash.

f) Naked Michael… It’s addictive…hehe. And very much a device on my part to open up his sense of inhibition, letting him feel the role as it were of a submissive. But in a way that never denigrates him in any of their eyes. If anything, the nudity leaves him in a position to be admired - literally and figuratively.

Part Six:

a) Let the games begin…lol. And they do, all this voyeurism and exhibitionism was fun to work with - but like Declan said - I wanted Brian and Michael’s first full sex scene to be about just them. Hence the “begin with love” conversation.

b) Brian’s cream leather and snake print silk…lol. He looked utterly edible in that outfit during the political fundraiser diner at David’s house. So I had to have him wear it again. For Michael…. THUD.

c) Don’t you love having a male character’s ability to last through two orgasms without losing his erection be a part of canon? Lol… I know Michael’s now appreciative. Sigh….

d) The kitchen scene was fun - because Michael’s been bad…lol, and is caught out doing it. And because I wanted there to be more one on one dialogue between him and Declan.

e) Can you guess why I had Michael tell Declan that Brian likes apple jelly? Lol…. Come on, it’s canon!

f) Brian’s robe - it’s one we’ve seen him in on the show. Luvly….

g) I have a tendency to sneak in Shakespeare quotes in a lot of my fics. Did you catch that? Lol…

h) Why a sauna? Because you have four naked men who all look fabulous sweaty and hot…haha.

i) I had the characters explain the tattoos I picked, but just wanted to add that I had a lot of fun creating them in my head. The permanence of their claim marked forever in their skin. It’s a beautiful thought.

j) I’ve been asked, “Why Darkling?” Welllll…. I liked the sound of it, and while it was the title of a movie that Aidan stared in, trust me when I say it isn’t meant as a reference to the creature in that film. It’s meant just as Declan describes - a nickname that originates from Ashton’s “other-worldly” sexual talents and his natural “saucy sprite” personality.

k) The hair washing? Come on…lol. With dark curls like that, it’s a given!!! Plus, we all seem to have a thing for that man’s hair. The massage? There are eastern forms of massages that incorporate the use of the entire body to use as a tool, instead of just the arms and hands, but really - the full effect can’t be done unless it gets sexual, imo…lol. So, considering Michael’s last two beaus were a chiropractor and a man eyebrow-deep in eastern culture - I figured between the two, Michael would have learned a thing or two about how to drive Brian wild.

Part Seven:

a) I had fun letting Michael and Brian get giddy in the snow. Especially knowing what Michael was wearing underneath his clothes….

b) I’m a huge fan of Laurell Hamilton’s Anita Blake books. And yes, I do realize that one of THE best (THUD!!!!) characters in her books is named Asher…lol. That was an afterthought which had me going, “OH Yeah!” So considering his name, and the themes you’ll find in her book, “Narcissus in Chains” - it seemed the perfect book for Ashton to be reading. (((I highly recommend the series!)))

c) Brian offers Michael an out before their first “scene” together. Which actually is only one of several opportunities that Michael is given to change his mind, halt things, etc. The point? It’s his choice that drives things.

d) So the secret’s out… The absolute worse that I have happen between Brian and Michael, isn’t bad at all…lol. So for anyone who didn’t read the fic because they thought it was going to be this extreme venture, here’s the proof in action that it is and was always going to be a journey of eroticism and sensuality. For those who went with my craziness - I’m thankful you held the faith.

e) I just had to add more back story to Michael’s first trip to the baths. Hence the blindfold discussion with Brian. Ahhhh….

f) I had a dream about the scene where Brian’s dressing a sleepy Michael in his sleep pants before leaving for the day. It just struck me as this simple, but deeply intimate and caring act - so I hope I brought it across as such.

g) Hehe…. Sooooo, now you know why Brian really went back to Pittsburgh. The office problems were real, but quickly dealt with. Sneaky, wasn’t he?

h) I wanted to give Ashton a hobby that he found as much joy and giddiness in as Michael with his comics. So it was a completely perfect choice for him to be a Star Trek fan…lol. (Trekkies UNITE!!!) Can’t you just see Ashton dragging Declan through a Star Trek convention? Like Michael does Brian through Comicon?

Part Eight:

a) Snicker, I challenge ANY of you to picture Aidan Gillen dressed up like Star Trek: The Next Generation’s Deanna Troi and NOT fall down laughing…lol.

b) Here was a chance to give you all a bit more insight into how Dec and Ash interact together. And to see how Ashton causes a lot of his own discipline. Sooooo, here’s your first toy link…lol. This is the chastity belt that Declan made Ashton wear. (Can you imagine him having to just sit there while Michael was modeling? Hehe) -

http://www.babeland.com/page/TIB/PROD/bdsm-bondage/DX490340

c) Declan’s photography - I always planned him doing a portrait of Michael, but I definitely didn’t want to present him as some nudie letch of a photographer…lol. He’s serious about his hobby, and he’s good at what he does. So I created the shadow play theme, which then lead to me realizing just how I wanted him to shoot Michael.

d) Had to have Michael initiate the request for his photograph to be made. Again, this reinforces his choice in all this. And it ultimately made me think about Brian’s taking pictures of Michael for his internet dating ad…lol. Considering the fun Michael knows Brian had with that, I thought he’d think this form of gift giving appropriate.

e) The love scene between Declan and Ash was a gift. For me, for Alexis and for the readers who fell in love with them both. But I did it with a switch, for Michael’s benefit. In order to challenge his notions of what Dominance and submission could mean in a loving long term relationship, Michael witnesses Declan bottoming from the top. Bareback… Which considering they’ve been together running on ten years, it gives them a level of freedom that Brian and Michael would frankly have to earn together - in trust, love and restraint from temptation.

f) Brian’s return - his witnessing the culmination of Dec/Ash together, and seeing how it affects both Michael and himself. Remember (for those of you who’ve read to the end) - he’s been busy reconstructing he and Michael’s lives back home, so coming back and walking in on that - it goes a long way to explaining why he wants something of Michael inside himself in turn.

g) Yes, folks. Brian gave Michael a command before he left, with included being physically prepared for him no matter when he was to return. So, what does that mean? hehe It means that the entire time Michael was posing for Declan, he was slicked and lubed inside for Brian. Now, doesn’t that add just a little bit more oomph to the impact of the final portrait? I know it does for Brian…lol.

h) The return of Michael’s cuffs - I wanted Michael to get a little of his own back, so why not wake up Brian by giving him his wakeup call - AFTER Michael’s tied his hands down…lol.

i) Brian’s feeling the full impact of his choice. Remember in the moment he‘s telling Michael he‘s going to collar him, he’s already met with Andre to design the piece. And set the motions into play for moving Michael into what will be their home….

j) Had to add in some sweet humor in all this seriousness and sensuality - which means? Yes, Ashton once again comes a knocking….lol. I’d planned on having a scene dinner, and just the image of Michael’s face when Ash throws in that question about ever having played naked waiter was just TOO funny.

k) The talk - I didn’t want to shy away from the impact of how each of them are responding to the changes between them. But how do you get them talking about it, and still keep their pov’s working with canon? I can only hope it worked.

Part Nine:

a) The boys needed some time together…meaning Michael and Ash. And boy oh boy did I give it to them…lol. This part was meant to be fantastical, and fun. So while the costumes may appear over the top to some, believe me - compared to some scene events, I was being tame!

b) More hinting between Brian and Declan about the items being created by Andre. And a moment of reflection on Brian’s part about what Michael means to him in the face of what others will say about their relationship. And like he says, ultimately Michael is his family - more than all the rest.

c) I put a lot of detail into Michael and Ashton’s individual looks, so I wanted to give you a more in-depth look-see as to some of the items they are wearing… Or rather, the pieces that inspired them. Some of which I embellished on for more added effect. So here goes:

Michael -

The underbust corset:

http://www.dracinabox.com/pvcunderbustcorset.htm

The O-Ring Posture collar:

http://www.absolutedanny.com/product_info.php?products_id=471

Ashton -

The leather gladiator skirt:

http://www.absolutedanny.com/product_info.php?products_id=212

And the inspiration for his painted on arm/neck tattoo:

http://home.earthlink.net/~markstewart/DuskPage.tattoo.html.

(Make sure the period “.“ is on the end of “html.” or you won’t be able to see the page.)

d) Had to have Declan being all masterly after dinner, didn’t I? Lol…. Plus, he DID say he was an exhibitionist - THUD!

e) Michael’s turning Brian’s command back on him, telling Brian to feel him inside. The two of them in front of the fire…. With Michael looking the way he does…. Yummy! Lol… Heck, even I enjoyed that… And that means…. It’s almost collar time!!!

Part Ten:

a) Isn’t Ash the cutest? Even if I do say so myself…. “Elmo” indeed…lol.

b) Wanted to include a mention of Michael’s continuing dream for “Rage.” And just think, the whole time he’s playing with clay and writing - Brian’s doing what in the Pits??? Lol…

c) The collaring - I could have gone the formal route, and had a ritualized ceremony. But I decided they needed something familiar and true to who they are together, hence the return where the story began.

d) The collar - it’s actually similar to Native American necklaces. The platinum links stacked three high, attached to leather lengths. And the shells - how could I not reclaim the bracelet we all know and love?

e) The cuff - Michael deserved to have Brian wear a mark of their claim, too!

f) The toy…lol. We all know from the show that Brian’s a big fan of sex toys; ever one to enjoy adding some spice to things. Wanna take a look at what Brian’s teasing Michael with the next morning?

http://www.babeland.com/page/TIB/PROD//TG355190

g) Declan’s reference to the ash wood paddles…lol. How could I resist? It was so appropriate, I had to include it.

h) I was looking forward to Michael’s giving Brian his gift… But then I remembered it was my job to actually WRITE it…lol. There are moments in creating a story when you feel like you’d much rather be reading it, rather than having to smooth it out line by line. So I think I got it right, let’s hope so.

Part Eleven:

a) The goodbye between our couples - it’s not an ending, it’s a beginning. They have every intention of remaining friends. Can’t you just imagine them all hitting Woody’s or Babylon together? Meeting Temmet? And saints preserve them, Debbie and Vic? Lol…

b) Just when you thought it was safe to visit the local diner…lol.

c) The humor in the hallway to Brian’s loft - it was just running through my head and I had to go with it. Plus, who doesn’t like a sexually demanding Michael?

d) Surprise!!! Welcome to the home of the Kinney-Novotny’s…. Do you like the decor? I started with the basic layout:

http://www.angelfire.com/home/qaf/theloft.html

And then worked to incorporate Michael’s style and all that we knew about his stuff together in with Brian’s world. I quite liked the result in my mind’s eye. Did you?

I hope you enjoyed the story, the journey and the ride.

Hugs

Xof