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Here's hoping Valentine's was wonderful for all, and if not - then I hope this makes it allllll better.
hugs
xof
Title: “Encompassed…” - Part 8
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)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
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 50th 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.
- - - - - - -
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.
tbc - Part 9...
hugs
xof
Title: “Encompassed…” - Part 8
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)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
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 50th 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.
- - - - - - -
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.
tbc - Part 9...
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