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  “Well….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I noticed.”

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

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

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

  “Then let’s get started,” he purrs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mahiro prompts.

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

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

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

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

  “Um, well, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Salchow.”

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

  “Is—is that okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter 3

  MAHIRO CLOSES the door and leans against it, then slides all the way down to the floor.

  Alex, Alex, Alex.

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

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

  Using the bathtub if that’s ok.

  His phone pings almost immediately with a reply:

  Damn son that’s some quick work.

  Funny. No, for me. He’s gone.

  You get 20 minutes starting now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Mahiro wonders if he could just wait him out.

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

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

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

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

  Adam’s smile falls. “What. How?”

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

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

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

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

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