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Title: “Embraced…”
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Sequel to: “Encompassed…”
Disclaimer: Don’t own ’em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do. Declan and his Ash are my creations.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 15 parts. (Over 140 pages total)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
Summary: Six months into their new relationship/arrangement, and our boys get an invitation to take a journey across the pond. London calling…
Timeline: Set after the finale of Season 2, 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 was the story that was never planned. I saw “Encompassed” as a one-off. But the characters obviously had a lot more to say and do. An embarrassing long year and a half later, and it’s not only done – but also longer than the original. Blimey…lol. Many thanks, and dozens of hugs to Em and Margo for their support and beta help. You are both very special, and I appreciate your encouragement so much.
Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play that aims to build the spirit, not tear it down. I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they discover each other, and themselves, in this new way.
Embraced…
By xof
(Begun – May 2006)
- - - - - - -
Part 2
- - - - - - -
“Whose idea was this again?” Michael asked, feeling not for the first time as if he were Ash’s own life-sized Ken doll. Well, that is if Ken were a half-Italian, half-drag queen, gay submissive with black hair.
“Master Man’s, actually.” Ashton tisked, “Don’t move; I’m not done yet.”
The slide of a liner pencil over his eyelids caused Michael to fight the impulse to open his eyes and glare. So he stuck his tongue out instead, grinning when Ashton murmured, “Be still my heart,” in response to their on-going joke about its length. When Ashton added, “It’s a wonder Brian’s not dead, yet,” Michael had to pull back so he could laugh without getting poked in the eye.
“One more thing,” Ashton stuck the pencil in his mouth and waited for Michael to close his eyes again before brushing his thumb gently over both lids. “There you go; you’re now properly smudged. Have a look.”
Michael turned to the mirror, seeing them both standing in its reflection – a matched pair. For once, they were dressed in the same outfits. Or what there were of them. Black square cut, tight-fitting Lycra trunks that were skimpy at best. Each with a silver zipper that followed completely from front to back, through their legs – stomach to spine. Barefoot, their ankles were encircled by black cuffs – each with a steel ring on the outer side. Ash had added leather cuffs to his wrists that were similar to Michael’s, along with a collar around his neck. “Don’t want to throw off the symmetry,” he’d said when Michael had asked, because Ash’s true Master-given collar was still in place – or rather they were, meaning the engraved nipple rings he wore every day.
As for the rest, both men had armbands on the left and right. Each band had a series of satin ribbons sewn into them that had been crisscrossed down and around each arm, then tied off at their wrist cuffs to create a diamond pattern that proved a striking contrast to their differing skin-tones. Michael’s paleness and Ashton’s tan wrapped in black. The same pattern continued on their lower bodies; the satin ribbons also crisscrossed down each leg from the bottom of their trunks to their ankle cuffs.
With the last minute touch of smoky smudged eyes on both, the look was done.
“I don’t know what Brian gets more of a kick out of, the looks you come up with or the fun he’ll have in unwrapping me.” Michael smiled. He was used to Ash and Dec’s exotic ideas when it came to scene fashion, at least enough now not to feel foolish. How could he question the effect when he knew from experience that Brian would take one look and his eyes would burn with heat? Not that they didn’t tease each other about it all afterwards, but in the moment – one look and Michael left all doubts at the door.
They’d developed a routine in the months that had followed the change in their relationship from friends to lovers, and more. Their friendship with Ashton and Declan had grown stronger, and it was often that they’d end up paired off on a given night every other week or so – just to have fun, eat dinner on the town, see a movie or go dancing. They regularly intermixed with the rest of Brian and Michael’s crew of family and friends when out and about – all of whom seemed rather enamored with the new exotic British arrivals to their Liberty Avenue world, though none of them knew the true circumstances of how Brian and Michael had come to meet Dec and Ash.
But along with the rest, there were also the couple times a month that focused on their continued learning under Declan’s off the clock counsel. Evenings like this one, where a scene was organized and the details were often kept a mystery from Michael and Ashton until they were actually in play. Although, as the ‘submissives,’ – it was usually up to them to ‘frame’ themselves for the evening, all the while not knowing the outline of their Dom’s plans.
Then there were the evenings like tonight where Declan had decided the outfits as well, since Brian usually deferred – probably because he got so much pleasure in tweaking and adding to Michael’s regular wardrobe as it was.
“Why do you think Declan chose these outfits?” Michael was curious.
Ash groaned, and then said, “It seems I was a bad little slave.” He laughed, adding, “I got so caught up in my latest piece, like a prat, that I forgot to call and reschedule one of his clients. The person showed up later that week to an empty house.” He stopped, growing serious as he said, “I don’t mean to lose track of time, but some days – it’s like I’m in a fugue when I work. But I’m Dec’s assistant, as well as being *his*. And I should have made the call before I started chipping away. It doesn’t look good when things like that happen with clients. They can feel slighted, like it’s something personal – and then not only can you lose their business, but it puts them in the bad situation of having to start all over again with someone new.”
Michael nodded. “Sounds like you thought about it; that must make things a little better.”
“I was fortunate, this time. The client is a dear, and accepted my apology. Written, I might add.”
“Let me guess, Declan’s idea.” It was a known fact that as Ash’s Master, Declan could be a strict authoritarian. He loved old fashion, sometimes seemingly banal methods of correction. Like for instance, having Ash write out an apology and then recopy it by hand however many times Declan felt necessary.
With a snort that sounded both amused and fondly disenfranchised, Ash said, “At least I only had to deliver the one; the others got shredded. All fifty of them.”
Michael asked, “What’s that got to do with what we’re wearing?”
Ash glanced at the mirror, and shook his head. “Have I ever told you how much I hate, make that abhor, ironing?”
Michael frowned, looking down at himself and then at Ash. The trunks didn’t need ironing; the Lycra just molded to their bodies. Which left…. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!” Each and every ribbon, perfectly smooth – not a wrinkle in sight. Looking to Ash for confirmation, Michael tried to sound solemn, “Okay, you’re not kidding,” but failed miserably when he broke out laughing.
“Har har,” Ash grumbled, though his lips were pulling up by the time Michael had caught his breath.
- - -
“They may be at risk of hyperventilating,” Declan grinned. He and Brian were both feeling a little self-satisfied. And rightly so considering how they looked for the evening, both having taken special steps to acquire clothing that was as captivating as that of the other man’s.
It wasn’t that they were being overtly competitive when it came to how they dressed on scene night. But each man was of a prerogative to look his best, and when there was another dominant on the scene that did the same – well, that usually proved inducement enough to spend a little dosh as Ash would say.
The fun was in doing it behind their subs’ backs. It was ironic how much time both the submissives and the dominants spent on what to wear, when the usual intent was to have it all off as quickly as allowed or enticed. But it was one of a number of ways to keep things fresh, creative and fun. And considering that Dec and Ash seemed to be as attracted to each other after a decade as they were from the start, there was something to be considered in making the effort. Or at least, that’s what Brian had found.
Sitting in Declan’s office, they were waiting for the turn of the hour – the appointed time for dinner to be served and their evening to begin. Brian had his legs up on Declan’s desk, smoothing his hands over his thighs as he nodded. His mood a little mixed due to thoughts of the coming scene. He was looking forward to it, expressly. But it wasn’t something he had taken as far in the past with Michael and that made him quiet.
Declan settled back in his leather chair, one of those you’d expect to find in an elegant appointed private men’s club. High-backed with studded upholstery, it was majestic and looked to be practically Victorian. He was watching Brian, paying attention to the soothing stroke of his hands over the fabric of his trousers, taking in the man and his mood.
Brian was wearing custom fitted supple black leather boots and tight black suede pants, the kind that adhered to his body and framed every inch. His shirt was of a dark burgundy mesh material, a long-sleeved see-through that had an added silver-ish sheen that rippled when he moved. The only other adornment was the cuff on his right wrist. The one that was a match to Michael’s collar, black leather with a platinum oval engraved with the M/B that represented them both, intertwined together with a shell sewn in on either side. The shells, like the ones integrated into the design of Michael’s collar, having been taken from the bracelet that Brian had worn each day since Michael had placed it on his arm, more than ten years back.
“Second thoughts? Or maybe third?” Declan asked, kind but cautious.
Brian looked back at the man, drawing himself up straighter as he said, “Just playing it out in my head.” He glanced down at his legs, enjoying the feel of the soft pre-worn suede for a moment before he drew his hands away and stood. “Time?”
Declan stood as well, glancing down at the watch hanging from his belt. It was a unique design; he was wearing a slipknot, slim silver chain around his neck – one length falling from the loop that circled his throat, coming down his chest and hanging attached at his waist to the watch itself. One that was expensive looking, and made Brian think about the kind of watches you would have seen a gentleman wear in the late nineteenth century. Face on one side, elegantly engraved on the back. It stood out even in the wake of the dangerous darkness of Declan’s outfit.
Slender, but strong – his arms were bare while his torso was covered with a tight velvet vest, one that zipped up the middle and ended in a mandarin collar. The oriental motif continued throughout its design, as Brian had seen when Declan had had his back turned earlier. There was a large fierce silver dragon embroidered on the back; the stitches were so intricate and beautiful, one could almost feel that the creature was three-dimensional. The pants were leather trousers, straight legged but well fitted his hips and ass. At his waist, a belt – one that held three custom-made steel knives sheathed to the left of the clasped buckle. Each of the small, three-inch, flame-shaped blades were smoothed to a stark shine on the flat, but had an edge all the way from one side of the steel t-shaped handles to the other. Add in the shit-stomping steel-toed boots, and the man looked like he had menace on his mind.
Nodding, Declan said, “Time.” And together they left the room.
- - -
“Bloody hell.” It was a whisper, emphatic and awed, Ash looking over Michael’s shoulder as the door to the loft opened and Declan came through. He murmured in a voice half broken, “Mop me up ’cause I’m now just a puddle on the floor.”
Turning, a laugh beginning to form at Ashton’s words, Michael froze as he saw Brian following in at Declan’s back. “Fuck….” The word tumbled out without restraint as his eyes caught and held on the image of Brian – sex personified coming his way.
Brian quirked his head at Declan. “I’m guessing that we got their attention.”
A nod, face never losing its direct focus on the two men who stood staring back, and Dec replied, “And I’m thinking they have ours.” Walking at a pace this side of a prowl, he crossed the room and stood in front of Ash. An inch between, his eyes traced the line of Ashton’s body from foot to face. And only two words passed, “Darkling, mine,” before Declan’s hand was at the back of Ash’s neck – pulling him in as he took his next breath with a kiss.
The possession displayed would have been eye-catching for most, but for Michael, he only had eyes for Brian. Brian had crossed to him and was circling round, touching him with his hands as well as the hazel heat of his eyes. A stroke across Michael’s ass, blatantly appreciative – and Brian was back around, head bowed and lips against Michael’s ear. “Mikey, Michael.” A warm, lungful breath – then Brian’s voice, gruff and low. “You make me a very hungry man.” Coming closer, he turned his head and said, “Need a taste,” before he claimed Michael’s mouth with his own.
To say the dinner went by in an interesting fashion would have been an understatement. Between the candlelight and roaming hands, the subs serving or on their knees and the Doms lording like kings – there wasn’t a man left unaffected. Ashton swaying under his Master’s touch as Declan continued to run his fingers over the black satin crossed over his slave’s skin. Michael biting his lip and trying not to moan each time Brian touched his ass, stroked it – touching him there, every chance he got until it was all that Michael could do not to speak, to beg. But neither was allowed to voice their need, permission not yet granted – their eyes and bodies left to speak where they could not.
It wasn’t until the meal ended, and Michael and Ashton were clearing the table that things shifted still further towards the night’s intended purpose. For Michael, it was the sudden and swift swat of Brian’s hand against his bottom – one that caused him to start and the dish in his hand to clatter loudly back onto the table. Brian pressed against him, angled to the side and rubbed his palm over the curve of Michael’s ass. “Feel warm?” When Michael nodded with a jerk of his head, Brian gave him another tap and then another – the strikes hitting on one side, then the other. And again he rubbed, working the slight sting into Michael’s skin until the heat took over and warmed him as he moved back into Brian’s touch. “I want to get your skin hot; spank you till you squirm. Hear you moaning as you’re taking more.” He pulled Michael fully against his body, circling his hard-on against Michael’s bottom as he reached round and began stroking Michael’s dick through his shorts. “Yes?”
Eyes falling shut, Michael moved against Brian and pushed into his hand. He was hard, so hard – Brian’s control doing what it always did, pushing his buttons and opening new doors. Doors Michael had secretly wanted to peek through for years, the way now offered at the hands of the man he loved most. “Yes. Sir, yes.”
“Still, Michael. Be still.” When Michael stopped moving his hips, Brian said, “Hands flat on the table, lean forward. Stay just like that.” Glancing over, Brian saw that things had progressed for their hosts as well. “Open your eyes, Michael. I want you to watch them as I do this. Watch them, but feel me.”
Michael hissed as Brian’s hand slapped down, spank and rubbed – and then did it again. He worked to open his eyes, to see past the sensation that was warming his skin, and firing his blood. When at last he managed, a sound – startled and raw, escaped him at what he saw.
Ashton with his hands raised above his head, secured by a chain hooked to each cuff and attached through an O-ring imbedded into one of the loft support columns. His body stretched taut, caught between the wood and Declan at his back. Declan who was licking each fading line on Ash’s back, swiping his tongue over them as he pulled Ash’s head back by his hair – his other hand… reaching. Reaching for and unsheathing one of the flame blades at his waist, the steel flashing in the candle light and causing Michael to jerk as he watched it rise closer and closer to Ash’s skin.
Grunting softly as Brian’s hand landed and held, Michael started to move up – on the verge of breaking form with Brian’s name on his lips, until Brian caught him, and clasped him close. Pressing him down again as he spoke in Michael’s ear. “Easy. It’s okay. Shhh.” When Michael held silent but still tense, Brian laughed. “All those perfectly ironed ribbons, so little time.” His amusement at Declan’s story, plain. Stroking his hands down Michael’s arms, the satin so smooth and his skin so warm – Brian murmured, “Watch him.”
Declan was holding Ash still, captured and bound – whispering to him as he held the knife for the other man to see. Arching his hips just a bit, thrusting against his slave’s ass until Ash was shivering with the effort to not move. The jingle-clank of the chain at his wrists sounded as he gave a nod to something Dec had said, Ashton grabbing the wood as he eased back and surrendered to what was to come.
Raising the blade, Declan brushed Ash’s arm – his knuckles tracing a ribbon as if mapping out his plan; and then with a smooth flick, slice – he’d slipped the knife under the satin and severed it as Ashton whispered, “One.” Then again, “Two.” And again, “Three.” To, “Four.” Each time, the cut just as clean – the sight just as affecting – and Ash’s voice that much more needful with each number he said.
The severed strands falling down his right arm like a cascade, Ash circled back against his Master as Declan dropped the blade and took his slave’s lips with a kiss. Hungry and deep.
Michael was caught in the watching, his fear gone but heart beating fast when Brian rose above him and started again. Slap, press, rub. Slap, press, rub. His strikes louder than they were strong, easing Michael into it until he was again rising back into each hit. When he saw Michael’s hands gripping the table’s edges, Brian nipped a bite at the base of his neck. “Are you wet for me, Michael?”
Even with the desire-muddled matter that was his brain in that moment, Michael knew what Brian was asking. “Yes, sir,” the words escaping with a sharp exhale as Brian jerked his hips back, standing closer between his spread thighs. Michael held onto the table, glad of its support as he felt Brian’s hand reaching beneath to pull the zipper on the trunks down and through, all the way back. The fabric parted, held to his body only by the elastic band at his waist – his most private parts open to Brian’s view. Michael groaned and pressed his forehead to the table as Brian tested the way, as his Dom and lover brushed a finger along his crease and pushed through the slick, inside.
Lubed as he had been told to be, Michael cried out as Brian pushed still further in until he pressed and played over Michael’s prostate. “So hot for me, for this.” His words thick with praise, Brian pulled his finger free and pushed his hand into the tight waistband of his suede pants. Finding the toy he’d brought – now warmed by his body, he brought it out as he leaned closer over Michael’s back.
“Five, ahh.” Ash’s voice, hoarse but happy, counting off again as Declan stroked him through his shorts with one hand while slicing ribbons down his other arm. Michael’s eyes flashing open as he heard, as he saw Ashton reaching “Six,” then “Seven.” Missing “Eight,” he shivered and shut his eyes as Brian began working, “ahhh,” something inside of him.
“Shhh, take it. Feel ’em going into you.” The beads were black, connected by a string; there were six in total going from smallest at an inch around to three at the last. Brian held Michael open, pressing them one at a time slowly into his body – smiling a wicked smile as Michael began to enjoy the fullness of them moving as he moved. When at last they were all in, Brian gave the black ring a little tug in warning. “Hold them in until I say.” He rubbed his thumb over the entrance of Michael’s body, hearing the hiccup in the other man’s voice as his breathing grew harder – a sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin.
Michael held with the moment, managing not to protest when Brian drew his hand away. Waiting, suspecting – until he felt Brian’s hand slap naked against his ass, the hits coming in an even pace – left, right, left, right – popping against his cheeks until the sting became an aching burn; the beads inside him heightening the sensation, moving as he rocked under Brian’s hand. So full, so hard – so desperately out of his head, and on the edge of coming as he fought to wait. Fought to hold on as the warmth began to flow up his spine, and through his limbs as he cried out and moaned Brian’s name.
At the sound, Brian stopped – his hand burning as he spread it over Michael’s heated flesh. He could feel the shaking of Michael’s body, and came to realize he felt himself shaking as well. They held warbling on the edge, sensitized to the point of starkness. Pressing his hand to the pinked curve of Michael’s ass, Brian said, “Hold tight, I’ve got you.” And in that second, with only a long demanding stroke to the hardened length that rose between Michael’s thighs, Brian pulled the beads free – Michael crying out, flailing as his fingers slipped and he came hard. Hard and fast as Brian caught him up in his arms.
It was Brian’s voice that called him back from pleasure’s haze, hardly more than a beat later. His name, said soft but firm. Blinking, he opened his eyes to find that he was being held seated, straddling Brian’s thighs. And just then, the feeling hit – the ache of his bottom, and the wicked friction of suede against his hot skin causing him to catch his breath sharply. The trunks were rucked down at the top of his thighs, and as he leaned back – he could feel Brian against him, his Dom’s pants undone and cock pushing hard at the base of Michael’s spine. Feel the slick length encased as it was, so ready to be let in.
“Please.” The word came out of him – no thought needed, no decision to make. He didn’t care about his sore body; he didn’t care where they were. All Michael knew was that he needed more, to have more – to have Brian be a part of him as soon as he could.
“Look at them, Michael. Look at them while I do…this,” Brian groaned, his words barely over as he lifted Michael by the hips and pulled him back, pushing through the tight ring and into his heated home. Both men jerking a little as Michael came to rest on Brian’s lap, thighs spread wide over Brian’s legs.
Sweat stinging his eyes, Michael rolled his head – blinking to see through the all-encompassing feel of Brian moving inside him. When he was able to focus, he shivered and gripped the arms of the dining room chair – locked between the pleasure he’d found and the view before him.
Ash’s ribbons were all cut, satin hanging from his arms and pooled on the floor; he was held naked, caught up by his wrists and standing with the sliced wreck of his shorts thrown at his feet. Declan, fierce and dark, was moving against him – within him, fucking him as both men fought to give and take more. Leather pushed down his legs, Declan thrust and rutted – growling as he held Ash, wild with the feel of it. The power taking them both as Ash cried and moaned, struggling to push back even as he arched forward into his Master’s demanding hand. The two of them savage, beautiful and more than lost, each in the other.
Cursing, clutching Michael’s body, Brian thrust and fucked. His body was blissed to the point of near pain as he fought to find his end, to fling himself ever higher until Michael was all he knew. And then with a yell, he lost and won both in the same breath – brought through the fire with lungs burning and ears screaming as Michael echoed him, spasming against him, around him until Brian shivered and fell against Michael’s back – the two of them holding on, and moaning in commiseration as their hosts came to their end but a moment after, the room echoing with sound.
- - -
“Hmm, this feels *so* fucking good.” Michael sighed, his pleasure evident as he sank further down until he was submerged to his neck. He was drifting in warmth, wet and wonderful, seated – albeit on a folded towel considering his red bottom – in the hot water of the Jacuzzi located in Dec and Ash’s first floor, en suite guest bedroom bath. The tub was small compared to the one the two Brits had upstairs, but Michael could stretch out, leaving more than enough room for Brian. Who was presently grinning down at his dark love, enjoying the show of Michael reveling in being submerged in hot water up to his neck.
“You are such a tub bunny.” Brian chuckled, walking into the room after stowing Michael’s clothes and their leather in the bedroom. The both of them bare because that was the thing about leather, however functional, stylish and made-to-last their cuffs and Michael’s collar were – water was definitely on the no-no list.
Rolling his head back, Michael closed his eyes – enjoying the melted feeling of his muscles loosening in the heat. He murmured, “Says the king of glass shower stalls,” smiling a little when Brian gave his longer hair a tug. Looking up at him, Michael watched as Brian threw his shirt into the other room and then pushed the suede down his legs. “That’s one of my favorite things,” he said – adding more when Brian gave him the ‘and?’ look. “Watching you peel your pants off; it’s the second best way you get naked.”
Standing up, bare and bold, Brian gave the suede a toss into the bedroom, then asked, “So what’s the first?”
Michael laughed, his skin pink from the warmth and from his coming bravado. “When I get to be the peeler.”
Shaking his head, Brian stepped into the tub. “Naughty naughty, Novotny.” Hissing a little as he settled into the hot water, he stole a hand up Michael’s thigh – teasing when Michael jumped at the sudden sensation of Brian’s fingers on his balls, “You’re so cute.”
Michael shifted as Brian touched him, a soft sound escaping him as he tried to keep his legs open while not putting all his weight on his behind. “Asshole,” he grouched when Brian snickered. The curse was affectionate, but still pointed. No matter how submissive Michael was in scene – he was still one of the few people in Brian’s life who called him on his shit, especially when he was being one.
Brian pulled Michael through the water, settling him so that he was kneeling over his lap, facing him – close like he wanted Michel to be, but also in consideration of … other causes. “How’s your rump?”
Michael met his eyes, and though he knew Brian’s question was a serious one, he was feeling too happy high not to say, “Ample as always.” He couldn’t help but laugh as Brian groaned, “Hey, we can’t all have – what was it Ash called yours?”
Glaring at the memory, Brian answered, “Statue ass.” Leave it to their endearing Englishman to play off the term ‘statuesque’ – and still be able to make the point that Brian’s posterior resembled not a few Greek and Roman marble men found in art history.
Michael actually giggled, the sound bursting out of him. It was one of his favorite of Ash’s witticisms – one, because it was true, and two, because it was one of the few things he could, in Declan’s words, ‘take the mick’ about – at Brian’s expense and know he wouldn’t be playfully punished for later. Brian appreciated the humor too much to really get annoyed. Plus, it was his ass they were talking about, so the points where in his favor from the start.
The feel of Michael laughing against the skin of his neck had Brian pulling him closer, gently soothing his palms over Michael’s behind. “Sensitive?”
Nodding, the warmth and strength of Brian’s body mixed in with the soothing water and his tired mind had Michael closing his eyes. He murmured, “Feels good, kinda achy on the inside and out.” He folded his arms around Brian’s shoulders and slid to lie on his side, sleep starting to color his voice. “Gonna feel you all day tomorrow.”
The decision to stay the night having already been made, Brian ran his fingers through Michael’s hair. “Did my job right, then.” Giving Michael a squeeze, he leaned back and relaxed. “Rest, Mikey. I’ll get you to bed before we drown.”
Silence, then softly Michael said, “Brian.”
“Yeah?”
The sound almost lost as Michael fell into sleep, he whispered, “Thank you.”
With those two words, Brian opened his eyes and turned to rest his head on Michael’s. The trust, for the moment, something he found he could not question, and did not doubt, even in himself.
- - -
“What are you wearing around your leg?” The words were easy, laid back but curious. Nothing startling, ordinarily.
But given they were spoken at 3:00 AM and came unexpectedly from the darken doorway to the third floor studio – they caused Ashton to jump half out of his skin. “Fuck!” Turning to see Brian walked across the large open room, Ash shook his head. “Scared to buggary, that’s me. What are you doing prowling about? It’s late.”
Brian rubbed his hands over his face, looking around the half-lit section of the room – Ash’s art studio taking up part of the floor and Declan’s photography setup, the other. “Couldn’t sleep; go to bed too early and I always end up awake too soon.” He’d woken a while ago, slipping out of bed so not to wake Michael. Going in search of something to drink – juice, or bottled water, he’d pulled on a pair of sweats from the gym bag he’d dropped off when he’d changed earlier. Only to realize that the only real kitchen was on the second floor, in Dec and Ash’s loft. So he’d wandered about until he’d noticed noises coming from behind the studio door.
His mouth feeling dry, Brian asked, “Got anything to drink in here?”
Ash nodded to Declan’s work counter, “There’s a mini-fridge under there; help yourself. Should be stocked.” Looking down at his hands, both of which were covered in remnants of marble dust – not to mentioned most of the rest of his body too, he said, “Sorry I can’t get it for you.”
Brian squatted down, and smiled when he saw the individual bottles of apple juice. Apple was a favorite. Standing, he watched Ash putting up some of his chisels and files. The Englishman was sitting straddle on his workbench, pulled up to a block of white marble sitting on a sturdy table. He’d only just begun working with it, it seemed – bits of marble chipped away from various corners, strewn on the floor that was covered with a well-used tarp.
Taking a swallow of juice, Brian pointed to Ash’s leg – or rather to his shin and foot, the only things visible beneath his cutoff work pants. “What’s that?”
Ash whipped his hands on his ratty long-sleeved tee, one that had seen many a year of use and probably a thousand wash cycles besides, as evidenced by the frayed stitches that barely held one of the sleeves attached at his shoulder. Not to mention the threadbare almost holes at each elbow. He smiled, the turn of his mouth both wicked and like a twist of intimate reflection. Pulling up his pant leg, Ash answered, “It’s my slave sleep chain.”
Almost choking on the last swallow of juice, Brian wheezed out a laugh. “Your what?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.” Ash grabbed a damp cloth he’d set to one side. Washing his hands as well as he could, he rolled up the loose fabric until his leg showed from mid-thigh down. There was a black cord tied at his ankle, and then wrapped several times around his leg until it disappeared up under his pants. Standing, he pushed the waistband down so that Brian could see the cord was also tied around his waist. When Brian raised his eyebrow, Ash winked. “I tease Dec, calling it a chain because ‘cord’ doesn’t sound as antiquated or classic as the ritual it represents.” He sat back down, saying, “You know the image most folks have of a sex slave, chained to his or her Master’s bed.”
Brian nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Dec's fond of traditions,” he laughed, before adding, “But in my case, he decided it could have a practical application as well.” Raising his leg, Ash stroked his fingers over the cord at his ankle. “I sleepwalk, have since I was a child. Most times, I’m fine – but when it does happen, there’s no pattern. And usually, I’m in very deep.” He looked up at Brian, “Like waking-up-in-the-car-with-keys-in-the-ignition deep.” Giving the cord a tug, he said, “This is Declan’s way of physically imposing his will over me as his slave, but it’s also his way of protecting me from myself.”
Brian grinned; he’d never known a person who could take something others would find completely outrageous and oppressive, and make it sound like the most beautiful gift just by the tone of his voice and the look on his face. Of course, Brian was privy to bits of the back-story that was Declan and his Ash, so that helped to explain things most would miss. “Every night?” When Ashton comically arched his eyebrows ala Groucho Marx, Brian asked, “Okay, brat. Two questions. Why’s it tied around your waist and your ankle? And doesn’t it chafe?”
“When I’m up late, working – I usually just wrap it around and tie it off to keep it from tripping me up.” He reached back and raised his shirt, turning so that Brian could see the steel fastening at the end. “Hooks to a ring imbedded at the end of our bed.” He un-looped it, and held it out to Brian. “Give it a feel.”
Brian took it, running his hands over the material in surprise. “It’s soft, smooth.”
“It’s silk rope; folks use it in Japanese-style bondage. Feels divine, and stronger than you can imagine.”
Twirling the cord around his finger, Brian’s eyes took on a mischievous light. “Kinky.”
Ash quirked his head, “With a smile like that, you’re thinking wicked thoughts, Brian Kinney.”
Not saying a word, Brian let Ash’s ‘slave sleep chain’ go and turned to leave – laughing out loud as Ash called after him.
“You’re up to something, you are!”
His silence said it all.
- - -
“Has it been a problem?”
Brian threw Declan a glare, before looking off across the restaurant as if the question didn’t hold the importance it did. Eyes following the to and fro of the wait staff as they handled the lunch traffic all around, he answered, “Meaning have I fucked up and fucked around?” When Declan didn’t reply, Brian blew out a long sigh and turned back to his new albeit annoyingly inquisitive friend. “No, I haven’t.”
Declan grinned, “Tempted?”
“Absolutely.” It was meant as a flip answer, one that was shown true nonetheless as his eyes followed one exceedingly attractive waiter who barely missed being hit by the swinging kitchen door when he looked back at Brian. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Brian shook his head – looking down at his folded hands, and the hint of black leather that was showing under the right sleeve of his suit jacket. Eyes holding, his fingers passing over his wrist to touch the bracelet he knew to be there, he said, “But not enough.”
“That’s one of the benefits, finding the value of self control.” Declan leaned back in his chair, relaxed but still ever watchful. He was a man at ease in almost any situation, radiating a confidence most only aspired to or pretended to have. How he managed to carry it off with a decided lack of pretension or arrogance – well, it was one of his talents. Declan laughed at Brian’s incredulous face. “You don’t stop being you, just because you love and commit to Michael. But that drive, the urge you feel to have and conquer becomes more focused in his direction. Sexual impulse is satisfied by the creativity and power you put into and find as you play.” He pushed up his shirtsleeve, his tattoo – the black letters spelling N-U-I-N – bared. “It doesn’t make you less to love him; it makes you whole.”
Brian didn’t say anything, for a long while. He’d been surprised at how much of a struggle it hadn’t become, the threat of his crossing the line. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same desire; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to act on the pull he felt when he knew another man wanted him. It was that he knew what he wanted more, needed most. And that was Michael.
He’d crossed the line when he’d claimed Michael, and found himself made more for taking them both into this new reality. For a man who lacked faith in much, Brian now believed in *them* – and that was enough. “You’re saying I don’t need the hunt, because of Michael’s gift.”
“His submission, the trust and love it represents, yes.” Declan ran his hand over his beard, adding, “Put it another way. What is the hunt if not the search for power mixed with pleasure? Being king of your world is the act of a dominant personality. Being given dominance over the man you’ve known, loved and needed for half a lifetime – and seeing the strength it brings to you both, the pleasure too…. There’s not much to question when the experience says it all.”
Brian nodded, smiling a private smile. If ever there had been a better opening…. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Declan’s pixie-sage smile shining, he said, “And here I thought you asked me to lunch for the pleasure of my company.” He was teasing, since they knew their “lunches” usually ended up being both fond times between new friends and Q & A’s – one man of scene experience to another. Taking a sip of his red wine, Declan waved, “Ask away.”
Not saying a word, Brian glanced around as he pulled out his wallet. With a straight face, he tossed/dropped a packaged square onto the table and sat back, waiting for Declan’s response.
A response that was delayed by the sudden arrival, and loud gasp, of their waitress as she stepped up to witness the condom as it landed on the table between them. Though to her credit, she was quick on the uptake, clearing her throat and asking, "Uhm, would either of you like dessert?"
Declan lost it first, a laugh bursting out as he shook his head. "I'm good." After Brian answered in kind and the waitress left, he picked up the packet and flicked it back at Brian. "Only you, Brian Kinney, would play show and tell with a prophylactic on white linen in a four star restaurant during the lunch hour rush."
Giving a mock half-bow from his seat, Brian answered. "Thank you."
"And the point?"
Brian's expression changed, growing more serious as he thought how to phrase his words. "How did you know ... Make the choice to go without?"
Declan leaned forward, arms folded on the table as he considered the question. "You mean chucking the rubbers and going bare?'
"You told me you were rather prolific before Ash, and it's not a shock that he was decidedly less than a saint before you hooked up."
"So when did we decide to stop playing safe and leave practicality at the door?" Declan looked down at his arm, his eyes holding on the dark lines of his tattoo as he said, "From the word go, actually. We never used them." He glanced at Brian's surprised face, "I've managed to shock you; I think that's a first." When Brian didn't answer, looking a bit speechless, – Declan said, "One look, and I wanted him. It was like a shot to the gut. He was there, offering me everything from the start. And it wasn't just a night; it wasn't just a scene. He gave himself wholly, with a trust that scared me to death." He paused a moment, drinking his wine as his face took on a faraway look. "I'd been involved in scene play for a good while by that time; he started young with too much to take in, moving too fast through too many. And I was tired, going through the motions, but too jaded to admit to myself that I was lacking anything, or anyone in my life." He shot Brian a grin, "Sounding at all familiar?"
Brian didn't respond to the prod; he was more interested in hearing what else Declan had to tell. "And you were saying... "
"Ash was a benevolent surprise; the trust he had in me instantly was... It was innocence, hopefulness and desire, all rolled into one. He wanted me, wanted to be what I needed. And I did find myself needing him, wanting to deserve his faith in me. But in the rush, came the worry. Could I do it, would he stay interested?" Declan shook his head. "So I told him. I told him that *if* I chose him, I would have all of him. No holds barred, nothing hidden. No barriers, of any kind." He picked up the wrapped condom, dropping it pointedly into the glass of water and gave it a twirl. "If anything, that made Ash even more determined." Smiling, Declan flicked his fingers and laughed as Brian wiped the drops from his face. "For months, he was a driven man."
Flinging his napkin at Declan as the man tried to bite back a giggle, Brian smirked. "Ashton told Michael he had to court you. That makes you either a bastard, or a wise man."
"Why not both? I had the time of my life, but then so did he. Ash is in his element when he's after something he wants; set the man a goal, and his dedication and focus are practically art forms." Declan settled back in his chair, adding, "It was an interesting learning curve, to say the least."
"Had you barebacked before that?"
Declan gave him a long look, "No, neither had he." He watched Brian as he signaled for another drink, his third since they'd sat down. "Brian, what are you thinking?"
Shifting in his chair, Brian admitted, "New thoughts."
"How seriously?"
Brian met Declan's gaze, "Enough." He stopped as the waitress handed him his drink, taking a swallow before saying, "Michael and I had physicals a couple weeks ago, sometime after our last scene with you and Ash." He'd had Michael added to his insurance shortly after they'd started living together. "The blood tests came back negative for both." Which considering the volume of Brian's past partners, and Michael's previous relationship, – was a thankful relief.
"You've never... ” Declan left it off as Brian shook his head. "Is this to be another 'book and verse of Brian Kinney' rule that Michael becomes the exception to?"
"It's something I'd written off as never happening. The curse of the modern gay man to live free but restricted on pain of possible death."
"A bitter truth, so what has changed?"
Brian took another swallow, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. "Certainly not the world."
Declan hummed in agreement, then asked, "I'm taking it that this isn't just an itch that needs scratching; you're putting thought into it. Have you talked to Michael?"
"I'm not putting it out there until, unless....” He sighed. "Early stages, you know?"
"I know you just said 'until' – maybe your subconscious is further down that road than you knew."
Brian frowned even as Declan smiled. "Shit." He downed the rest of his drink, and then set the glass on the table before he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Maybe." His eyes going back to the cuff showing at his wrist, he murmured again. "Maybe."
TBC...
Would love to know what you think...
Hugs
xof
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Sequel to: “Encompassed…”
Disclaimer: Don’t own ’em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do. Declan and his Ash are my creations.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 15 parts. (Over 140 pages total)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
Summary: Six months into their new relationship/arrangement, and our boys get an invitation to take a journey across the pond. London calling…
Timeline: Set after the finale of Season 2, 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 was the story that was never planned. I saw “Encompassed” as a one-off. But the characters obviously had a lot more to say and do. An embarrassing long year and a half later, and it’s not only done – but also longer than the original. Blimey…lol. Many thanks, and dozens of hugs to Em and Margo for their support and beta help. You are both very special, and I appreciate your encouragement so much.
Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play that aims to build the spirit, not tear it down. I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they discover each other, and themselves, in this new way.
Embraced…
By xof
(Begun – May 2006)
- - - - - - -
Part 2
- - - - - - -
“Whose idea was this again?” Michael asked, feeling not for the first time as if he were Ash’s own life-sized Ken doll. Well, that is if Ken were a half-Italian, half-drag queen, gay submissive with black hair.
“Master Man’s, actually.” Ashton tisked, “Don’t move; I’m not done yet.”
The slide of a liner pencil over his eyelids caused Michael to fight the impulse to open his eyes and glare. So he stuck his tongue out instead, grinning when Ashton murmured, “Be still my heart,” in response to their on-going joke about its length. When Ashton added, “It’s a wonder Brian’s not dead, yet,” Michael had to pull back so he could laugh without getting poked in the eye.
“One more thing,” Ashton stuck the pencil in his mouth and waited for Michael to close his eyes again before brushing his thumb gently over both lids. “There you go; you’re now properly smudged. Have a look.”
Michael turned to the mirror, seeing them both standing in its reflection – a matched pair. For once, they were dressed in the same outfits. Or what there were of them. Black square cut, tight-fitting Lycra trunks that were skimpy at best. Each with a silver zipper that followed completely from front to back, through their legs – stomach to spine. Barefoot, their ankles were encircled by black cuffs – each with a steel ring on the outer side. Ash had added leather cuffs to his wrists that were similar to Michael’s, along with a collar around his neck. “Don’t want to throw off the symmetry,” he’d said when Michael had asked, because Ash’s true Master-given collar was still in place – or rather they were, meaning the engraved nipple rings he wore every day.
As for the rest, both men had armbands on the left and right. Each band had a series of satin ribbons sewn into them that had been crisscrossed down and around each arm, then tied off at their wrist cuffs to create a diamond pattern that proved a striking contrast to their differing skin-tones. Michael’s paleness and Ashton’s tan wrapped in black. The same pattern continued on their lower bodies; the satin ribbons also crisscrossed down each leg from the bottom of their trunks to their ankle cuffs.
With the last minute touch of smoky smudged eyes on both, the look was done.
“I don’t know what Brian gets more of a kick out of, the looks you come up with or the fun he’ll have in unwrapping me.” Michael smiled. He was used to Ash and Dec’s exotic ideas when it came to scene fashion, at least enough now not to feel foolish. How could he question the effect when he knew from experience that Brian would take one look and his eyes would burn with heat? Not that they didn’t tease each other about it all afterwards, but in the moment – one look and Michael left all doubts at the door.
They’d developed a routine in the months that had followed the change in their relationship from friends to lovers, and more. Their friendship with Ashton and Declan had grown stronger, and it was often that they’d end up paired off on a given night every other week or so – just to have fun, eat dinner on the town, see a movie or go dancing. They regularly intermixed with the rest of Brian and Michael’s crew of family and friends when out and about – all of whom seemed rather enamored with the new exotic British arrivals to their Liberty Avenue world, though none of them knew the true circumstances of how Brian and Michael had come to meet Dec and Ash.
But along with the rest, there were also the couple times a month that focused on their continued learning under Declan’s off the clock counsel. Evenings like this one, where a scene was organized and the details were often kept a mystery from Michael and Ashton until they were actually in play. Although, as the ‘submissives,’ – it was usually up to them to ‘frame’ themselves for the evening, all the while not knowing the outline of their Dom’s plans.
Then there were the evenings like tonight where Declan had decided the outfits as well, since Brian usually deferred – probably because he got so much pleasure in tweaking and adding to Michael’s regular wardrobe as it was.
“Why do you think Declan chose these outfits?” Michael was curious.
Ash groaned, and then said, “It seems I was a bad little slave.” He laughed, adding, “I got so caught up in my latest piece, like a prat, that I forgot to call and reschedule one of his clients. The person showed up later that week to an empty house.” He stopped, growing serious as he said, “I don’t mean to lose track of time, but some days – it’s like I’m in a fugue when I work. But I’m Dec’s assistant, as well as being *his*. And I should have made the call before I started chipping away. It doesn’t look good when things like that happen with clients. They can feel slighted, like it’s something personal – and then not only can you lose their business, but it puts them in the bad situation of having to start all over again with someone new.”
Michael nodded. “Sounds like you thought about it; that must make things a little better.”
“I was fortunate, this time. The client is a dear, and accepted my apology. Written, I might add.”
“Let me guess, Declan’s idea.” It was a known fact that as Ash’s Master, Declan could be a strict authoritarian. He loved old fashion, sometimes seemingly banal methods of correction. Like for instance, having Ash write out an apology and then recopy it by hand however many times Declan felt necessary.
With a snort that sounded both amused and fondly disenfranchised, Ash said, “At least I only had to deliver the one; the others got shredded. All fifty of them.”
Michael asked, “What’s that got to do with what we’re wearing?”
Ash glanced at the mirror, and shook his head. “Have I ever told you how much I hate, make that abhor, ironing?”
Michael frowned, looking down at himself and then at Ash. The trunks didn’t need ironing; the Lycra just molded to their bodies. Which left…. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!” Each and every ribbon, perfectly smooth – not a wrinkle in sight. Looking to Ash for confirmation, Michael tried to sound solemn, “Okay, you’re not kidding,” but failed miserably when he broke out laughing.
“Har har,” Ash grumbled, though his lips were pulling up by the time Michael had caught his breath.
- - -
“They may be at risk of hyperventilating,” Declan grinned. He and Brian were both feeling a little self-satisfied. And rightly so considering how they looked for the evening, both having taken special steps to acquire clothing that was as captivating as that of the other man’s.
It wasn’t that they were being overtly competitive when it came to how they dressed on scene night. But each man was of a prerogative to look his best, and when there was another dominant on the scene that did the same – well, that usually proved inducement enough to spend a little dosh as Ash would say.
The fun was in doing it behind their subs’ backs. It was ironic how much time both the submissives and the dominants spent on what to wear, when the usual intent was to have it all off as quickly as allowed or enticed. But it was one of a number of ways to keep things fresh, creative and fun. And considering that Dec and Ash seemed to be as attracted to each other after a decade as they were from the start, there was something to be considered in making the effort. Or at least, that’s what Brian had found.
Sitting in Declan’s office, they were waiting for the turn of the hour – the appointed time for dinner to be served and their evening to begin. Brian had his legs up on Declan’s desk, smoothing his hands over his thighs as he nodded. His mood a little mixed due to thoughts of the coming scene. He was looking forward to it, expressly. But it wasn’t something he had taken as far in the past with Michael and that made him quiet.
Declan settled back in his leather chair, one of those you’d expect to find in an elegant appointed private men’s club. High-backed with studded upholstery, it was majestic and looked to be practically Victorian. He was watching Brian, paying attention to the soothing stroke of his hands over the fabric of his trousers, taking in the man and his mood.
Brian was wearing custom fitted supple black leather boots and tight black suede pants, the kind that adhered to his body and framed every inch. His shirt was of a dark burgundy mesh material, a long-sleeved see-through that had an added silver-ish sheen that rippled when he moved. The only other adornment was the cuff on his right wrist. The one that was a match to Michael’s collar, black leather with a platinum oval engraved with the M/B that represented them both, intertwined together with a shell sewn in on either side. The shells, like the ones integrated into the design of Michael’s collar, having been taken from the bracelet that Brian had worn each day since Michael had placed it on his arm, more than ten years back.
“Second thoughts? Or maybe third?” Declan asked, kind but cautious.
Brian looked back at the man, drawing himself up straighter as he said, “Just playing it out in my head.” He glanced down at his legs, enjoying the feel of the soft pre-worn suede for a moment before he drew his hands away and stood. “Time?”
Declan stood as well, glancing down at the watch hanging from his belt. It was a unique design; he was wearing a slipknot, slim silver chain around his neck – one length falling from the loop that circled his throat, coming down his chest and hanging attached at his waist to the watch itself. One that was expensive looking, and made Brian think about the kind of watches you would have seen a gentleman wear in the late nineteenth century. Face on one side, elegantly engraved on the back. It stood out even in the wake of the dangerous darkness of Declan’s outfit.
Slender, but strong – his arms were bare while his torso was covered with a tight velvet vest, one that zipped up the middle and ended in a mandarin collar. The oriental motif continued throughout its design, as Brian had seen when Declan had had his back turned earlier. There was a large fierce silver dragon embroidered on the back; the stitches were so intricate and beautiful, one could almost feel that the creature was three-dimensional. The pants were leather trousers, straight legged but well fitted his hips and ass. At his waist, a belt – one that held three custom-made steel knives sheathed to the left of the clasped buckle. Each of the small, three-inch, flame-shaped blades were smoothed to a stark shine on the flat, but had an edge all the way from one side of the steel t-shaped handles to the other. Add in the shit-stomping steel-toed boots, and the man looked like he had menace on his mind.
Nodding, Declan said, “Time.” And together they left the room.
- - -
“Bloody hell.” It was a whisper, emphatic and awed, Ash looking over Michael’s shoulder as the door to the loft opened and Declan came through. He murmured in a voice half broken, “Mop me up ’cause I’m now just a puddle on the floor.”
Turning, a laugh beginning to form at Ashton’s words, Michael froze as he saw Brian following in at Declan’s back. “Fuck….” The word tumbled out without restraint as his eyes caught and held on the image of Brian – sex personified coming his way.
Brian quirked his head at Declan. “I’m guessing that we got their attention.”
A nod, face never losing its direct focus on the two men who stood staring back, and Dec replied, “And I’m thinking they have ours.” Walking at a pace this side of a prowl, he crossed the room and stood in front of Ash. An inch between, his eyes traced the line of Ashton’s body from foot to face. And only two words passed, “Darkling, mine,” before Declan’s hand was at the back of Ash’s neck – pulling him in as he took his next breath with a kiss.
The possession displayed would have been eye-catching for most, but for Michael, he only had eyes for Brian. Brian had crossed to him and was circling round, touching him with his hands as well as the hazel heat of his eyes. A stroke across Michael’s ass, blatantly appreciative – and Brian was back around, head bowed and lips against Michael’s ear. “Mikey, Michael.” A warm, lungful breath – then Brian’s voice, gruff and low. “You make me a very hungry man.” Coming closer, he turned his head and said, “Need a taste,” before he claimed Michael’s mouth with his own.
To say the dinner went by in an interesting fashion would have been an understatement. Between the candlelight and roaming hands, the subs serving or on their knees and the Doms lording like kings – there wasn’t a man left unaffected. Ashton swaying under his Master’s touch as Declan continued to run his fingers over the black satin crossed over his slave’s skin. Michael biting his lip and trying not to moan each time Brian touched his ass, stroked it – touching him there, every chance he got until it was all that Michael could do not to speak, to beg. But neither was allowed to voice their need, permission not yet granted – their eyes and bodies left to speak where they could not.
It wasn’t until the meal ended, and Michael and Ashton were clearing the table that things shifted still further towards the night’s intended purpose. For Michael, it was the sudden and swift swat of Brian’s hand against his bottom – one that caused him to start and the dish in his hand to clatter loudly back onto the table. Brian pressed against him, angled to the side and rubbed his palm over the curve of Michael’s ass. “Feel warm?” When Michael nodded with a jerk of his head, Brian gave him another tap and then another – the strikes hitting on one side, then the other. And again he rubbed, working the slight sting into Michael’s skin until the heat took over and warmed him as he moved back into Brian’s touch. “I want to get your skin hot; spank you till you squirm. Hear you moaning as you’re taking more.” He pulled Michael fully against his body, circling his hard-on against Michael’s bottom as he reached round and began stroking Michael’s dick through his shorts. “Yes?”
Eyes falling shut, Michael moved against Brian and pushed into his hand. He was hard, so hard – Brian’s control doing what it always did, pushing his buttons and opening new doors. Doors Michael had secretly wanted to peek through for years, the way now offered at the hands of the man he loved most. “Yes. Sir, yes.”
“Still, Michael. Be still.” When Michael stopped moving his hips, Brian said, “Hands flat on the table, lean forward. Stay just like that.” Glancing over, Brian saw that things had progressed for their hosts as well. “Open your eyes, Michael. I want you to watch them as I do this. Watch them, but feel me.”
Michael hissed as Brian’s hand slapped down, spank and rubbed – and then did it again. He worked to open his eyes, to see past the sensation that was warming his skin, and firing his blood. When at last he managed, a sound – startled and raw, escaped him at what he saw.
Ashton with his hands raised above his head, secured by a chain hooked to each cuff and attached through an O-ring imbedded into one of the loft support columns. His body stretched taut, caught between the wood and Declan at his back. Declan who was licking each fading line on Ash’s back, swiping his tongue over them as he pulled Ash’s head back by his hair – his other hand… reaching. Reaching for and unsheathing one of the flame blades at his waist, the steel flashing in the candle light and causing Michael to jerk as he watched it rise closer and closer to Ash’s skin.
Grunting softly as Brian’s hand landed and held, Michael started to move up – on the verge of breaking form with Brian’s name on his lips, until Brian caught him, and clasped him close. Pressing him down again as he spoke in Michael’s ear. “Easy. It’s okay. Shhh.” When Michael held silent but still tense, Brian laughed. “All those perfectly ironed ribbons, so little time.” His amusement at Declan’s story, plain. Stroking his hands down Michael’s arms, the satin so smooth and his skin so warm – Brian murmured, “Watch him.”
Declan was holding Ash still, captured and bound – whispering to him as he held the knife for the other man to see. Arching his hips just a bit, thrusting against his slave’s ass until Ash was shivering with the effort to not move. The jingle-clank of the chain at his wrists sounded as he gave a nod to something Dec had said, Ashton grabbing the wood as he eased back and surrendered to what was to come.
Raising the blade, Declan brushed Ash’s arm – his knuckles tracing a ribbon as if mapping out his plan; and then with a smooth flick, slice – he’d slipped the knife under the satin and severed it as Ashton whispered, “One.” Then again, “Two.” And again, “Three.” To, “Four.” Each time, the cut just as clean – the sight just as affecting – and Ash’s voice that much more needful with each number he said.
The severed strands falling down his right arm like a cascade, Ash circled back against his Master as Declan dropped the blade and took his slave’s lips with a kiss. Hungry and deep.
Michael was caught in the watching, his fear gone but heart beating fast when Brian rose above him and started again. Slap, press, rub. Slap, press, rub. His strikes louder than they were strong, easing Michael into it until he was again rising back into each hit. When he saw Michael’s hands gripping the table’s edges, Brian nipped a bite at the base of his neck. “Are you wet for me, Michael?”
Even with the desire-muddled matter that was his brain in that moment, Michael knew what Brian was asking. “Yes, sir,” the words escaping with a sharp exhale as Brian jerked his hips back, standing closer between his spread thighs. Michael held onto the table, glad of its support as he felt Brian’s hand reaching beneath to pull the zipper on the trunks down and through, all the way back. The fabric parted, held to his body only by the elastic band at his waist – his most private parts open to Brian’s view. Michael groaned and pressed his forehead to the table as Brian tested the way, as his Dom and lover brushed a finger along his crease and pushed through the slick, inside.
Lubed as he had been told to be, Michael cried out as Brian pushed still further in until he pressed and played over Michael’s prostate. “So hot for me, for this.” His words thick with praise, Brian pulled his finger free and pushed his hand into the tight waistband of his suede pants. Finding the toy he’d brought – now warmed by his body, he brought it out as he leaned closer over Michael’s back.
“Five, ahh.” Ash’s voice, hoarse but happy, counting off again as Declan stroked him through his shorts with one hand while slicing ribbons down his other arm. Michael’s eyes flashing open as he heard, as he saw Ashton reaching “Six,” then “Seven.” Missing “Eight,” he shivered and shut his eyes as Brian began working, “ahhh,” something inside of him.
“Shhh, take it. Feel ’em going into you.” The beads were black, connected by a string; there were six in total going from smallest at an inch around to three at the last. Brian held Michael open, pressing them one at a time slowly into his body – smiling a wicked smile as Michael began to enjoy the fullness of them moving as he moved. When at last they were all in, Brian gave the black ring a little tug in warning. “Hold them in until I say.” He rubbed his thumb over the entrance of Michael’s body, hearing the hiccup in the other man’s voice as his breathing grew harder – a sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin.
Michael held with the moment, managing not to protest when Brian drew his hand away. Waiting, suspecting – until he felt Brian’s hand slap naked against his ass, the hits coming in an even pace – left, right, left, right – popping against his cheeks until the sting became an aching burn; the beads inside him heightening the sensation, moving as he rocked under Brian’s hand. So full, so hard – so desperately out of his head, and on the edge of coming as he fought to wait. Fought to hold on as the warmth began to flow up his spine, and through his limbs as he cried out and moaned Brian’s name.
At the sound, Brian stopped – his hand burning as he spread it over Michael’s heated flesh. He could feel the shaking of Michael’s body, and came to realize he felt himself shaking as well. They held warbling on the edge, sensitized to the point of starkness. Pressing his hand to the pinked curve of Michael’s ass, Brian said, “Hold tight, I’ve got you.” And in that second, with only a long demanding stroke to the hardened length that rose between Michael’s thighs, Brian pulled the beads free – Michael crying out, flailing as his fingers slipped and he came hard. Hard and fast as Brian caught him up in his arms.
It was Brian’s voice that called him back from pleasure’s haze, hardly more than a beat later. His name, said soft but firm. Blinking, he opened his eyes to find that he was being held seated, straddling Brian’s thighs. And just then, the feeling hit – the ache of his bottom, and the wicked friction of suede against his hot skin causing him to catch his breath sharply. The trunks were rucked down at the top of his thighs, and as he leaned back – he could feel Brian against him, his Dom’s pants undone and cock pushing hard at the base of Michael’s spine. Feel the slick length encased as it was, so ready to be let in.
“Please.” The word came out of him – no thought needed, no decision to make. He didn’t care about his sore body; he didn’t care where they were. All Michael knew was that he needed more, to have more – to have Brian be a part of him as soon as he could.
“Look at them, Michael. Look at them while I do…this,” Brian groaned, his words barely over as he lifted Michael by the hips and pulled him back, pushing through the tight ring and into his heated home. Both men jerking a little as Michael came to rest on Brian’s lap, thighs spread wide over Brian’s legs.
Sweat stinging his eyes, Michael rolled his head – blinking to see through the all-encompassing feel of Brian moving inside him. When he was able to focus, he shivered and gripped the arms of the dining room chair – locked between the pleasure he’d found and the view before him.
Ash’s ribbons were all cut, satin hanging from his arms and pooled on the floor; he was held naked, caught up by his wrists and standing with the sliced wreck of his shorts thrown at his feet. Declan, fierce and dark, was moving against him – within him, fucking him as both men fought to give and take more. Leather pushed down his legs, Declan thrust and rutted – growling as he held Ash, wild with the feel of it. The power taking them both as Ash cried and moaned, struggling to push back even as he arched forward into his Master’s demanding hand. The two of them savage, beautiful and more than lost, each in the other.
Cursing, clutching Michael’s body, Brian thrust and fucked. His body was blissed to the point of near pain as he fought to find his end, to fling himself ever higher until Michael was all he knew. And then with a yell, he lost and won both in the same breath – brought through the fire with lungs burning and ears screaming as Michael echoed him, spasming against him, around him until Brian shivered and fell against Michael’s back – the two of them holding on, and moaning in commiseration as their hosts came to their end but a moment after, the room echoing with sound.
- - -
“Hmm, this feels *so* fucking good.” Michael sighed, his pleasure evident as he sank further down until he was submerged to his neck. He was drifting in warmth, wet and wonderful, seated – albeit on a folded towel considering his red bottom – in the hot water of the Jacuzzi located in Dec and Ash’s first floor, en suite guest bedroom bath. The tub was small compared to the one the two Brits had upstairs, but Michael could stretch out, leaving more than enough room for Brian. Who was presently grinning down at his dark love, enjoying the show of Michael reveling in being submerged in hot water up to his neck.
“You are such a tub bunny.” Brian chuckled, walking into the room after stowing Michael’s clothes and their leather in the bedroom. The both of them bare because that was the thing about leather, however functional, stylish and made-to-last their cuffs and Michael’s collar were – water was definitely on the no-no list.
Rolling his head back, Michael closed his eyes – enjoying the melted feeling of his muscles loosening in the heat. He murmured, “Says the king of glass shower stalls,” smiling a little when Brian gave his longer hair a tug. Looking up at him, Michael watched as Brian threw his shirt into the other room and then pushed the suede down his legs. “That’s one of my favorite things,” he said – adding more when Brian gave him the ‘and?’ look. “Watching you peel your pants off; it’s the second best way you get naked.”
Standing up, bare and bold, Brian gave the suede a toss into the bedroom, then asked, “So what’s the first?”
Michael laughed, his skin pink from the warmth and from his coming bravado. “When I get to be the peeler.”
Shaking his head, Brian stepped into the tub. “Naughty naughty, Novotny.” Hissing a little as he settled into the hot water, he stole a hand up Michael’s thigh – teasing when Michael jumped at the sudden sensation of Brian’s fingers on his balls, “You’re so cute.”
Michael shifted as Brian touched him, a soft sound escaping him as he tried to keep his legs open while not putting all his weight on his behind. “Asshole,” he grouched when Brian snickered. The curse was affectionate, but still pointed. No matter how submissive Michael was in scene – he was still one of the few people in Brian’s life who called him on his shit, especially when he was being one.
Brian pulled Michael through the water, settling him so that he was kneeling over his lap, facing him – close like he wanted Michel to be, but also in consideration of … other causes. “How’s your rump?”
Michael met his eyes, and though he knew Brian’s question was a serious one, he was feeling too happy high not to say, “Ample as always.” He couldn’t help but laugh as Brian groaned, “Hey, we can’t all have – what was it Ash called yours?”
Glaring at the memory, Brian answered, “Statue ass.” Leave it to their endearing Englishman to play off the term ‘statuesque’ – and still be able to make the point that Brian’s posterior resembled not a few Greek and Roman marble men found in art history.
Michael actually giggled, the sound bursting out of him. It was one of his favorite of Ash’s witticisms – one, because it was true, and two, because it was one of the few things he could, in Declan’s words, ‘take the mick’ about – at Brian’s expense and know he wouldn’t be playfully punished for later. Brian appreciated the humor too much to really get annoyed. Plus, it was his ass they were talking about, so the points where in his favor from the start.
The feel of Michael laughing against the skin of his neck had Brian pulling him closer, gently soothing his palms over Michael’s behind. “Sensitive?”
Nodding, the warmth and strength of Brian’s body mixed in with the soothing water and his tired mind had Michael closing his eyes. He murmured, “Feels good, kinda achy on the inside and out.” He folded his arms around Brian’s shoulders and slid to lie on his side, sleep starting to color his voice. “Gonna feel you all day tomorrow.”
The decision to stay the night having already been made, Brian ran his fingers through Michael’s hair. “Did my job right, then.” Giving Michael a squeeze, he leaned back and relaxed. “Rest, Mikey. I’ll get you to bed before we drown.”
Silence, then softly Michael said, “Brian.”
“Yeah?”
The sound almost lost as Michael fell into sleep, he whispered, “Thank you.”
With those two words, Brian opened his eyes and turned to rest his head on Michael’s. The trust, for the moment, something he found he could not question, and did not doubt, even in himself.
- - -
“What are you wearing around your leg?” The words were easy, laid back but curious. Nothing startling, ordinarily.
But given they were spoken at 3:00 AM and came unexpectedly from the darken doorway to the third floor studio – they caused Ashton to jump half out of his skin. “Fuck!” Turning to see Brian walked across the large open room, Ash shook his head. “Scared to buggary, that’s me. What are you doing prowling about? It’s late.”
Brian rubbed his hands over his face, looking around the half-lit section of the room – Ash’s art studio taking up part of the floor and Declan’s photography setup, the other. “Couldn’t sleep; go to bed too early and I always end up awake too soon.” He’d woken a while ago, slipping out of bed so not to wake Michael. Going in search of something to drink – juice, or bottled water, he’d pulled on a pair of sweats from the gym bag he’d dropped off when he’d changed earlier. Only to realize that the only real kitchen was on the second floor, in Dec and Ash’s loft. So he’d wandered about until he’d noticed noises coming from behind the studio door.
His mouth feeling dry, Brian asked, “Got anything to drink in here?”
Ash nodded to Declan’s work counter, “There’s a mini-fridge under there; help yourself. Should be stocked.” Looking down at his hands, both of which were covered in remnants of marble dust – not to mentioned most of the rest of his body too, he said, “Sorry I can’t get it for you.”
Brian squatted down, and smiled when he saw the individual bottles of apple juice. Apple was a favorite. Standing, he watched Ash putting up some of his chisels and files. The Englishman was sitting straddle on his workbench, pulled up to a block of white marble sitting on a sturdy table. He’d only just begun working with it, it seemed – bits of marble chipped away from various corners, strewn on the floor that was covered with a well-used tarp.
Taking a swallow of juice, Brian pointed to Ash’s leg – or rather to his shin and foot, the only things visible beneath his cutoff work pants. “What’s that?”
Ash whipped his hands on his ratty long-sleeved tee, one that had seen many a year of use and probably a thousand wash cycles besides, as evidenced by the frayed stitches that barely held one of the sleeves attached at his shoulder. Not to mention the threadbare almost holes at each elbow. He smiled, the turn of his mouth both wicked and like a twist of intimate reflection. Pulling up his pant leg, Ash answered, “It’s my slave sleep chain.”
Almost choking on the last swallow of juice, Brian wheezed out a laugh. “Your what?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.” Ash grabbed a damp cloth he’d set to one side. Washing his hands as well as he could, he rolled up the loose fabric until his leg showed from mid-thigh down. There was a black cord tied at his ankle, and then wrapped several times around his leg until it disappeared up under his pants. Standing, he pushed the waistband down so that Brian could see the cord was also tied around his waist. When Brian raised his eyebrow, Ash winked. “I tease Dec, calling it a chain because ‘cord’ doesn’t sound as antiquated or classic as the ritual it represents.” He sat back down, saying, “You know the image most folks have of a sex slave, chained to his or her Master’s bed.”
Brian nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Dec's fond of traditions,” he laughed, before adding, “But in my case, he decided it could have a practical application as well.” Raising his leg, Ash stroked his fingers over the cord at his ankle. “I sleepwalk, have since I was a child. Most times, I’m fine – but when it does happen, there’s no pattern. And usually, I’m in very deep.” He looked up at Brian, “Like waking-up-in-the-car-with-keys-in-the-ignition deep.” Giving the cord a tug, he said, “This is Declan’s way of physically imposing his will over me as his slave, but it’s also his way of protecting me from myself.”
Brian grinned; he’d never known a person who could take something others would find completely outrageous and oppressive, and make it sound like the most beautiful gift just by the tone of his voice and the look on his face. Of course, Brian was privy to bits of the back-story that was Declan and his Ash, so that helped to explain things most would miss. “Every night?” When Ashton comically arched his eyebrows ala Groucho Marx, Brian asked, “Okay, brat. Two questions. Why’s it tied around your waist and your ankle? And doesn’t it chafe?”
“When I’m up late, working – I usually just wrap it around and tie it off to keep it from tripping me up.” He reached back and raised his shirt, turning so that Brian could see the steel fastening at the end. “Hooks to a ring imbedded at the end of our bed.” He un-looped it, and held it out to Brian. “Give it a feel.”
Brian took it, running his hands over the material in surprise. “It’s soft, smooth.”
“It’s silk rope; folks use it in Japanese-style bondage. Feels divine, and stronger than you can imagine.”
Twirling the cord around his finger, Brian’s eyes took on a mischievous light. “Kinky.”
Ash quirked his head, “With a smile like that, you’re thinking wicked thoughts, Brian Kinney.”
Not saying a word, Brian let Ash’s ‘slave sleep chain’ go and turned to leave – laughing out loud as Ash called after him.
“You’re up to something, you are!”
His silence said it all.
- - -
“Has it been a problem?”
Brian threw Declan a glare, before looking off across the restaurant as if the question didn’t hold the importance it did. Eyes following the to and fro of the wait staff as they handled the lunch traffic all around, he answered, “Meaning have I fucked up and fucked around?” When Declan didn’t reply, Brian blew out a long sigh and turned back to his new albeit annoyingly inquisitive friend. “No, I haven’t.”
Declan grinned, “Tempted?”
“Absolutely.” It was meant as a flip answer, one that was shown true nonetheless as his eyes followed one exceedingly attractive waiter who barely missed being hit by the swinging kitchen door when he looked back at Brian. Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Brian shook his head – looking down at his folded hands, and the hint of black leather that was showing under the right sleeve of his suit jacket. Eyes holding, his fingers passing over his wrist to touch the bracelet he knew to be there, he said, “But not enough.”
“That’s one of the benefits, finding the value of self control.” Declan leaned back in his chair, relaxed but still ever watchful. He was a man at ease in almost any situation, radiating a confidence most only aspired to or pretended to have. How he managed to carry it off with a decided lack of pretension or arrogance – well, it was one of his talents. Declan laughed at Brian’s incredulous face. “You don’t stop being you, just because you love and commit to Michael. But that drive, the urge you feel to have and conquer becomes more focused in his direction. Sexual impulse is satisfied by the creativity and power you put into and find as you play.” He pushed up his shirtsleeve, his tattoo – the black letters spelling N-U-I-N – bared. “It doesn’t make you less to love him; it makes you whole.”
Brian didn’t say anything, for a long while. He’d been surprised at how much of a struggle it hadn’t become, the threat of his crossing the line. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same desire; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to act on the pull he felt when he knew another man wanted him. It was that he knew what he wanted more, needed most. And that was Michael.
He’d crossed the line when he’d claimed Michael, and found himself made more for taking them both into this new reality. For a man who lacked faith in much, Brian now believed in *them* – and that was enough. “You’re saying I don’t need the hunt, because of Michael’s gift.”
“His submission, the trust and love it represents, yes.” Declan ran his hand over his beard, adding, “Put it another way. What is the hunt if not the search for power mixed with pleasure? Being king of your world is the act of a dominant personality. Being given dominance over the man you’ve known, loved and needed for half a lifetime – and seeing the strength it brings to you both, the pleasure too…. There’s not much to question when the experience says it all.”
Brian nodded, smiling a private smile. If ever there had been a better opening…. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Declan’s pixie-sage smile shining, he said, “And here I thought you asked me to lunch for the pleasure of my company.” He was teasing, since they knew their “lunches” usually ended up being both fond times between new friends and Q & A’s – one man of scene experience to another. Taking a sip of his red wine, Declan waved, “Ask away.”
Not saying a word, Brian glanced around as he pulled out his wallet. With a straight face, he tossed/dropped a packaged square onto the table and sat back, waiting for Declan’s response.
A response that was delayed by the sudden arrival, and loud gasp, of their waitress as she stepped up to witness the condom as it landed on the table between them. Though to her credit, she was quick on the uptake, clearing her throat and asking, "Uhm, would either of you like dessert?"
Declan lost it first, a laugh bursting out as he shook his head. "I'm good." After Brian answered in kind and the waitress left, he picked up the packet and flicked it back at Brian. "Only you, Brian Kinney, would play show and tell with a prophylactic on white linen in a four star restaurant during the lunch hour rush."
Giving a mock half-bow from his seat, Brian answered. "Thank you."
"And the point?"
Brian's expression changed, growing more serious as he thought how to phrase his words. "How did you know ... Make the choice to go without?"
Declan leaned forward, arms folded on the table as he considered the question. "You mean chucking the rubbers and going bare?'
"You told me you were rather prolific before Ash, and it's not a shock that he was decidedly less than a saint before you hooked up."
"So when did we decide to stop playing safe and leave practicality at the door?" Declan looked down at his arm, his eyes holding on the dark lines of his tattoo as he said, "From the word go, actually. We never used them." He glanced at Brian's surprised face, "I've managed to shock you; I think that's a first." When Brian didn't answer, looking a bit speechless, – Declan said, "One look, and I wanted him. It was like a shot to the gut. He was there, offering me everything from the start. And it wasn't just a night; it wasn't just a scene. He gave himself wholly, with a trust that scared me to death." He paused a moment, drinking his wine as his face took on a faraway look. "I'd been involved in scene play for a good while by that time; he started young with too much to take in, moving too fast through too many. And I was tired, going through the motions, but too jaded to admit to myself that I was lacking anything, or anyone in my life." He shot Brian a grin, "Sounding at all familiar?"
Brian didn't respond to the prod; he was more interested in hearing what else Declan had to tell. "And you were saying... "
"Ash was a benevolent surprise; the trust he had in me instantly was... It was innocence, hopefulness and desire, all rolled into one. He wanted me, wanted to be what I needed. And I did find myself needing him, wanting to deserve his faith in me. But in the rush, came the worry. Could I do it, would he stay interested?" Declan shook his head. "So I told him. I told him that *if* I chose him, I would have all of him. No holds barred, nothing hidden. No barriers, of any kind." He picked up the wrapped condom, dropping it pointedly into the glass of water and gave it a twirl. "If anything, that made Ash even more determined." Smiling, Declan flicked his fingers and laughed as Brian wiped the drops from his face. "For months, he was a driven man."
Flinging his napkin at Declan as the man tried to bite back a giggle, Brian smirked. "Ashton told Michael he had to court you. That makes you either a bastard, or a wise man."
"Why not both? I had the time of my life, but then so did he. Ash is in his element when he's after something he wants; set the man a goal, and his dedication and focus are practically art forms." Declan settled back in his chair, adding, "It was an interesting learning curve, to say the least."
"Had you barebacked before that?"
Declan gave him a long look, "No, neither had he." He watched Brian as he signaled for another drink, his third since they'd sat down. "Brian, what are you thinking?"
Shifting in his chair, Brian admitted, "New thoughts."
"How seriously?"
Brian met Declan's gaze, "Enough." He stopped as the waitress handed him his drink, taking a swallow before saying, "Michael and I had physicals a couple weeks ago, sometime after our last scene with you and Ash." He'd had Michael added to his insurance shortly after they'd started living together. "The blood tests came back negative for both." Which considering the volume of Brian's past partners, and Michael's previous relationship, – was a thankful relief.
"You've never... ” Declan left it off as Brian shook his head. "Is this to be another 'book and verse of Brian Kinney' rule that Michael becomes the exception to?"
"It's something I'd written off as never happening. The curse of the modern gay man to live free but restricted on pain of possible death."
"A bitter truth, so what has changed?"
Brian took another swallow, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. "Certainly not the world."
Declan hummed in agreement, then asked, "I'm taking it that this isn't just an itch that needs scratching; you're putting thought into it. Have you talked to Michael?"
"I'm not putting it out there until, unless....” He sighed. "Early stages, you know?"
"I know you just said 'until' – maybe your subconscious is further down that road than you knew."
Brian frowned even as Declan smiled. "Shit." He downed the rest of his drink, and then set the glass on the table before he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Maybe." His eyes going back to the cuff showing at his wrist, he murmured again. "Maybe."
TBC...
Would love to know what you think...
Hugs
xof
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