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It's after Midnight, so I'm posting the beginning of what I hope will be an enjoyable Valentine for you all. The story is BIG, so I'm going to be posting one part every two days until all 11 parts are posted. Which means it's Valentines all month long!!! lol.... And no worries, this isn't a WIP, the story is complete.
hugs
xof
Title: “Encompassed…”
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17 (Very, very….lol)
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: First Time, Drama, Angst
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do…. My two OMC’s are mine, even though Alexis would like it very much if I’d allow them to visit her house…lol.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 11 parts. (over 126 pages total )
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.
Encompassed…
By xof
February 1, 2005
- - - - - - -
Preface - by Alexis
D/s is a broad term for Dominance/submission. This one term can describe a scene between a Dominant and submissive, or more rarely, a 24/7 relationship between a Master and slave. Regardless of what is occurs between them, people who are involved in these relationships remember the three basic tenets of BSDM: safe, sane and consensual.
For the purposes of this small intro, I'll speak to more of the 24/7 relationship or relationships where D/s is included within daily life.
D/s relationships or scenes are not about pain or torture. The misconception that Dominants sit around and are 'served' by the submissives is an oversimplified way of thinking of these types of relationships. Additionally, to think that the submissive is simply 'used' by their dominant is another narrow-minded view.
Like any relationship, D/s relationships take work, from both parties. Both parties are responsible for the upkeep of the relationship. A sub or a slave isn't expected to be passive and leave all decisions up to their respective other half. Scenes are negotiated, checklists and surveys are done. Nothing is entered into lightly!
Good D/s relationships come from a place of love and respect. They come from mutual admiration for their respective partner's place. And they are never abusive!
To give over and to accept control are two wonderful experiences. I hope that you enjoy the story and approach it with an open mind and most of all, enjoy the way xof has presented D/s in this story.
- - - - - - -
“Encompassed…”
By xof
- - - - - - -
Part 1
- - - - - - -
The silence of the night was broken, split by the metallic click flip of a lighter being opened and palmed with its fire at full flame. Tilting his head up slightly from the warm comfort of its resting place, Brian lit the end of the remains of their last joint - reviving it after it had gone out a moment before. Only a toke or two each was left, but he was always one to see a good thing through to the end.
Smiling in amusement at his own thought, Brian flicked his wrist and closed his favorite lighter down. Drawing deep, he held the smoke inside and leaned his head back to nuzzle down into the feel of his headrest - caught between the high, the warmth of the heat inside and the pleasure of warm skin against the back of his neck. Letting go of one as he exhaled, Brian turned his head to enjoy the sensation of the other - resting his cheek against the back upon which he was lounging.
Reaching his arm out lazily, he handed off the weed with a soft murmured, “Last one, better hold it in.”
His human pillow shifted slightly as Brian’s offering was accepted, then time fell in with silence for a bit until the moment’s ease was interrupted by the sound of coughing. Brian turned onto his side; his hand rubbing over the expanse of other’s back until the violence settled and was gone. “Easy, Mikey. It’s strong.”
Michael didn’t answer. He just nodded as he lay his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes, content to remain sprawled out on his stomach over Brian’s white shag rug - floating in a haze without cause for thought. Or memory… Or pain. There was no sense of loss in this moment, only the contentment of familiarity and home. His safe haven embraced after too long in the shadows of sadness.
After too many days of avoiding the company of others, of Brian…. And all because he’d been desperate to process the reality of being as alone as he had been left.
Left by….
He had to fight from voicing the name of the one who had gone; who had chosen to remove himself from Michael’s life to follow his path through Tibetan climbs on the road to Enlightenment. How was one to fight against the call of the intangible? How was a man supposed to compare or compete? Especially with a ticking clock striking down each moment that his lover hesitated to follow his dream.
In the end, Michael had accepted that it wasn’t a battle he could win. And so he’d said goodbye with a smile, leaving the tears to fall in private.
The irony being that all this turmoil he was feeling inside was but the calm before the coming storm….
“Michaellllllllll….” Brian teased in a low sing-song voice, trying to get his friend’s attention. When Michael didn’t respond, Brian sighed. He too was feeling the first true sense of relaxation he’d known in the weeks following Justin’s departure. Too much partying to forget, fucking to feel and working longer hours than he’d ever done before - all to get through the days and nights without having to admit or acknowledge that he needed more than had seemed to satisfy in the past.
He could put up the front that all things were fine, fabulous - nothing out of place in his world. But Brian was coming to realize that each passing vice consumed or conquered now seemed lacking - the edge dulled by experience. Not that he was ready to suspend his habits. He figured that his funk would pass with time.
Besides, there was Michael to consider as well. His best friend was at risk of becoming a hermit after Ben’s leaving. Like Brian, working too much - but unlike Brian in that he instantly vanished back to his solitary apartment when sought out to join the gang on the town. Brian was of the opinion that Michael needed to stop internalizing his pain, and if Brian had to force him back out into the life of Liberty - as he planned to do this very evening, then all the better for them both.
Selfish as it was, Brian enjoyed seeing life through Michael’s eyes. Watching him react and respond to the men, the music, the dancing and such - it made Brian feel more than his own jaded nature would allow him on his own. And tonight he planned to pay very close attention to everything Michael.
It was time for a change from their routine. To once more be the purveyor of another first in Michael’s life.
But first things first….
Brian rose up from his perpendicular resting place, which had consisted of using Michael’s body as his pillow. A wicked grin foreshadowing his intent, he straddled Michael’s lower back and shoved his hands beneath the thin yellow cotton t-shirt that had been rucked up earlier as Michael lay down on the rug - tickle torture intent on Brian’s mind.
“Brian!” Michael jerked and thrashed, desperate to free himself from Brian’s torment - laughing even as he fought to turn around under Brian’s touch. It took major struggling, but finally Michael managed to roll over and grab at his friend’s hands. He tried to get Brian to stop, panting and laughing until his face was flushed and damp with tears.
Just when he thought he’d managed to plead his way out of more, Michael cried out in surprise as Brian grabbed him and rolled them both over - coming to a stop with Michael lying atop his body. He laughed as Michael made an attempt to pull away, barred by the strength of Brian’s hold - but the laugh turned into a gasp as Michael’s squirming inadvertently brought their groins together in a way that had each freezing on the cusp of a moan.
Michael held still, breathing hard from their play and from the affects of being against Brian. Captured in the moment and by the man below, he waited breathlessly for Brian’s next move - unable to control the impulse of his gaze as it wandered from Brian’s eyes to his friend’s mouth and back, more than once in the interim.
Following his instincts, Brian dragged a hand up to thread through Michael’s hair and pulled him down. Speaking low, “Come here, Mikey,” he made to take the kiss they both wanted. He murmured in appreciation as Michael gave into the touch of his lips, into the guiding of his tongue as they opened for more.
Freefalling…. It was the best word Michael could find to describe the sensation of Brian’s kiss. It took him outside himself and warmed him in a way that left him riding a deeper high than any smoke could provide. He didn’t even stop to reason why it was happened, only glad that it was.
The sudden sweep of need rushed over them as Brian clutched Michael close, turning to cover his friend only to pull away with equal swiftness when….
“Oh shit!”
Lifting up, Brian frowned at the sight of Michael lying in the remains of their pizza box - his back and side covered in marinara sauce. One look at the mess, at Michael’s grimacing face and Brian lost his composure - completely. He fell back onto the rug and laughed so hard, so gut-wrenchingly loud that Michael could only shake his head and say, “You asshole.”
Finally recovering his breath enough to speak, Brian sat up. “And proud of it.” He watched Michael ease out of the complete mess of cardboard and dipping sauce. “Speaking of asses, you realize the only thing that’s saving yours right now is that the box was on the floor rather than the rug, right?”
The double entendre presented with those words weighed upon them both, but present concerns overrode any possible intent as Michael stood up and tried to hold the shirt out, away from his skin. “You started it, you shit. Now what am I gonna do?”
Brian went to Michael, circling him to get a look at the disaster area that used to be a shirt. “I’d say the t-shirt’s a goner. Take it off and I’ll dump it with the rest of the mess. You can have one of mine after you wash in the bathroom.”
Michael slowly slid the icky wreck over his head and left for cleanup, missing Brian’s quiet, “Perfect timing.”
Making quick work of cleaning up the loft floor, Brian walked up the steps to his bedroom and pulled off his clothes. There wasn’t any time to spare because he didn’t know how long Michael would take, but he wanted to be ready for his friend’s return.
Several minutes later, Michael exited the bathroom toweling his hair from where it had gotten wet. He’d decided a quick in and out in the shower would be the easiest way to cleanup, especially since he didn‘t want to smell like a pizzeria for the rest of the night. He’d grimaced at having to put his jeans back on since they’d been splattered by sauce here and there too, but he hadn’t brought anything else to wear into the room.
Coming to a stop, Michael pulled the towel off his head just as he was grabbed from behind. Laughing at Brian’s playfulness - it was something he’d been missing, Michael asked. “What the hell? Brian, cut it out.” He tried to step away, but once more he was held from escaping.
“Now, now… Mikey. Behave.” Brian’s voice against his ear was provocative enough for Michael to close his eyes, giving into the desire to stay in Brian’s arms and absorb the warmth of his friend against his back. He was startled after a bit to feel a shirt being drawn over his head, but he trustingly raised his arms as Brian stretched the fabric over his torso. Stretched being the operative word….
Looking down at what he’d been plastered in, Michael looked up and back at Brian. “Black lycra? If you tell me this is a Justin kink-night leftover, I’m gonna kick you in the balls.”
Tisking dramatically, Brian circled round. “I bought it brand new, smartass. For you.”
Of course one look at Brian’s change in apparel, and Michael’s questions fell into forgetfulness. The one word that did register in Michael’s awestruck brain was a silent, ‘Wow.’ Long legs encased in leather; leather brown and dark, custom tailored to look warn down and rough in all the right bends and places with scuffing at the knees and along the inner thighs - made to look like its owner had ridden long and hard any manner of creature or man he could conquer. Michael swallowed back the cough that threatened to pass through his suddenly dry throat, and looked further up the line of Brian’s body.
The pants began in a low slung absence of a waistband, just a line that dipped and cut down in a tight ‘V’ which hugged Brian’s hips, drawing Michael’s gaze down to the supple leather stretched over flesh which housed Brian’s groin with deliberate effect. There couldn’t have been an inch between the beginning of the suede cords that held the pants closed and what must have been the beginning of the hair hidden just below. Feeling his face heating up, Michael looked up quickly - taking in the sleeveless silk t-shirt in matching brown that covered Brian’s chest, and then up to the man’s face.
A face that held an answering warmth, and a satisfaction at Michael’s initial reaction to the view. A face spread by an intimate smile…. A face with mischief shining through hazel eyes.
“Oh, no. No fucking way!” Michael shook his head as he reached to pull his newly acquired shirt back over his head, only to be stopped as Brian jerked his hands away and held him still. “I’m not going to Babylon with you. Not tonight.” He tried to side-step Brian, only to find himself pressed up against the wall.
Brian lowered his head to Michael’s, foreheads touching as they looked into the other’s eyes. “Go with me, Mikey. Especially tonight.” He lowered his mouth to Michael’s to still any protest, keeping the kiss soft and light but with enough guile to silence Michael’s words. He knew through long experience that Michael had always managed to avoid going to Babylon’s Leather Ball. Either because of work, illness (feigned or real, who could say) or boyfriend - it was the one night a year that Brian could count on Michael’s absence. Over the years, Brian had stopped bothering to ask - using it as teasing material but nothing serious. He’d never really thought to question why Michael avoided it; had only really put the clues together recently when he realized that for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were unattached and off the clock together on the same night as the ball.
“Let me take you.” The words were murmured once more across their passing lips, Brian’s voice soft and low. “A new adventure, just the two of us.” His smiled as Michael shivered against him, breathing a sharp gasp between them as Brian licked once, in the barest way, across his lip. “Say yes.”
Michael knew what Brian was doing, knew that his friend understood the power that he held over him. It wasn’t something they would discuss, but it wasn’t something they wanted to end either. Brian would push, Michael would give…. But it didn’t stop him from pushing Brian back a step, hands flat against Brian’s chest, the silk that lay between them warm from Brian’s skin.
“I can’t think when you do that.” The words, he knew were silly. They merely voiced the exact affect Brian had wanted to achieve. But Michael couldn’t feel resentment, as he stood in Brian’s arms - his lips still wet from their kiss.
Brian smiled at him, affection in his voice as well as triumph, “Then don’t think. Say yes.”
Michael bit his lip, needing to ask before he could agree, “We go together, and leave together, yes?”
Brian brushed his hand up Michael’s neck, threading his fingers into the drying spikes of his friend’s black hair. He knew what Michael was asking, that he not abandon Michael for the nearest trick. It wasn’t even with difficulty that he answered, “Yes.”
Michael looked up at him, a nervous smile in response. He wasn’t happy about where they were going, but Brian’s answer made him feel safer. He didn’t stop to question why he’d felt fear in the first place. He just said, “Yes.”
- - - - - - -
It was a banner year for Babylon’s Leather Ball decorating budget, judging by the décor that surrounded them upon entering the show. Brian let out a whistle upon his first glimpse of the view. Michael actually stopped to stare, only realizing he was blocking the entrance when he felt Brian against his back - a strong hand on his shoulder and the other at his waist. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and walked further inside; trying to act like it was a normal night.
But Michael knew there was nothing normal about it; not the way the place looked, not the way he was dressed and not the way all this was making him feel. He looked down at his clothing and shook his head, trying to fight against the voice inside that said he looked like a wannabe fuck-toy or a fool. Brian’s eyes, his encouragement, were the only things that had gotten Michael out of the loft dressed this way.
Well, that and the fact that once he’d struggled into the outfit, Brian couldn’t seem to keep his hands off. Touching him, feeling the smooth clinging slide of the lycra tee that fit his compact frame like it had been sprayed on and the sensation of new leather as it molded to his legs and ass. The pants were black leather, jean cut and tight - leaving nothing to imagine as they followed the curves of Michael’s body like a lover’s touch - covetous and firm. He’d had to leave his underwear behind, much to Brian’s amusement. But Michael had lost the desire to be defensive on that issue after Brian ran his hands over his ass a time or two.
He’d also lost the desire to question Brian about the cost of the clothes, too. Which in reflection, Michael figured was probably why Brian had touched him in the first place. Any distraction in a storm….
Brian would have disagreed. It wasn’t the cost; it was the end result. And to Brian, the result was gut-clenchingly hot. He’d stood there, impatiently waiting for Michael to get his tail out of the bathroom when out his friend came - black and glorious. The shirt, the pants, the black shine of the Docs that Michael had already owned - all of it perfection coordinated. Brian had stepped up into the bedroom, and slowly, appraisingly, he’d circled Michael as his friend shifted silently, awaiting Brian’s verdict.
The whistle had startled Michael into laughing, the sound quickly turning into a gasp as Brian ran his hands over Michael’s flat stomach - circling again to let his hand follow down and over Michael’s behind.
Giving a quick pop to the cheek he was molesting, Brian had quickly tussled Michael’s hair - mussing it into styled chaos. Slapping Michael’s hands away with a firm tisk of disapproval, he’d then given Michael the final gift for their evening.
A gift that Brian now was clasping in his hand as he led Michael through the crowd and over to the bar - three inch wide black leather studded cuffs buckled on each wrist; the matching accessory to Michael’s leather look. It was the one thing that night that Michael hadn’t questioned or looked at with disbelief. He’d just stood there, eyes a little wide - curious and…. And almost needful. Brian had stood, silent in return as he slowly lifted each of Michael’s wrists to fasten the cuffs in place.
They’d stayed there, looking at each other as Brian’s fingers caressed the soft skin of Michael’s arm above the leather. It wasn’t a moment that lasted much beyond its start, but in the time it lasted….
“Mikey, come back, come back wherever you are….”
Pulled away from the memory, Michael found Brian handing him a double shot of liquid courage. He threw it back, coughing as the alcohol burned its way down into his gut; then he turned to face the throng that surrounded them - ever mindful of Brian at his side with his hand on Michael’s back; his safe harbor in a sea of sin.
Brian had seen the scene before, through the years at Babylon and his own amateur indulgences with the odd trick. But this was Michael’s first view and Brian found his own eyes locked on Michael as he stood mesmerized. Every reaction was writ large across Michael’s face, a kaleidoscope of emotions - shock, awe, hunger, fear. They were all housed in Michael’s eyes, in the sweat of his brow and the deepening of his breath. Like a moth to flame, he was drawn into what he saw…. Curious, but still cautious of getting burned.
They stayed on the sidelines for a time; wrapped in a wave of leather and men, ever watchful but skirting the edge of actually joining in with the fray. A parade of men passed, harnessed and chapped. Leather pants, leather shorts, leather jocks - so many different looks and designs that Michael felt almost conservative in comparison to some of the outfits he saw.
Caught up in playing voyeur, Michael missed that he was the focus of not a few looks himself. Looks that were shot down by Brian’s possessive stance, his claiming touch and the back-off look in his eyes. Just as Michael had wanted not to be left alone, Brian wanted their night not to be interfered with by others. He wanted to keep what was his, to himself. It was a change in attitude that he didn’t stop to reason, focused instead on the next step of their ride.
Taking Michael’s hand, Brian pulled him through the masses until they came to the edge of what was normally the main dance floor. Tonight it had been emptied, set up as a demonstration area for the floor show. Dominated by the large St. Andrews cross, the floor held only two occupants - the players in tonight’s public exhibition. The Dom standing tall and fierce, the sub already locked into place immobile and waiting. Brian came to a stop, holding Michael in front of him - the smaller man’s back to his chest. The perfect position to watch, to witness….
They’d missed the earlier submissives; those who waited in line for just a taste of leather across their backs. But Brian was glad to see that they had made it for the main event. Music pulsed through the speakers, an insistent throbbing percussion that intensified the mood of the room. It was kept at a manageable level, one meant to accompany the slap of leather to flesh. Setting the stage for the chorus to come….
And then it came….
*Slap, Slap, Slap*
The suddenness of it, the effect of seeing it - of watching the flogger being landed again and again on the submissive’s upper back, his ass and thighs…. Seeing him gasp and moan in acceptance and need.
Michael jerked with the force of the blows, his body moving unconsciously in echo to the hits. Moving back, fitting himself into the welcome of Brian’s arms…. Arms that housed him, held him - kept him close. He bit back a sound, his whole focus caught and held - fixated on the wonder before him, both intrigued and repelled. It was almost like he was the one being hit, the one giving up - giving in…. The one willing to bare the blows with thanks and pleas for more.
It was like he didn’t even recognize the body and mind that he possessed; an introduction to new avenues of himself that had him aching to know “why,” “how“…. Even as he huddled closer to Brian at the thought of “when.”
Brian found his eyes shifting from the action on stage, settling instead on his friend. Unaware of his own tease, Michael continued to move, to shift and push against Brian as he stared ahead. Brian sucked in a breath, smiling with a wicked light in his eyes as his own body responded to the friction. He was enjoying Michael’s enrapt expression, the press of his dark head as it lay against Brian’s shoulder and the feel of Michael’s arms intertwined with Brian’s hugging grasp.
Unable to resist, Brian leaned in and spoke in Michael’s ear - enjoying the shudder his words caused. “It must hurt soooo good.”
Brian’s words fell just as the man onstage cried out, riding the high of his pain’s pleasure. He was saying, “Yes,” and, “Please, Sir,” in almost endless repetition; his voice growing rough with use as he pushed back as much as his restraints would allow, pushed into the strokes of his master’s strap. His body slick with sweat and reddened from neck to knees, still he called for more. And more, and more - until with a last well placed snap that bounced off his skin hard enough to almost drown out his moan, the scene found its end and the sub, his reluctant freedom.
Released from his restraints, the sub flowed like water in a stream….his body folding in grace until he was on his knees, head down to touch the floor. He remained so until his Dom pulled him up, hand in hair and smiled with pride and satisfaction at his sub’s response. Surrounded by the cacophonous chaos of the clapping crowd, they had eyes only for each other - locked intimately alone, no matter their audience until with a kiss the moment passed and the show was over.
Even as the two left the stage, Brian could feel Michael softly shaking. He stayed silent for awhile, letting Michael have the time he seemed to need.
Letting his eyes close for a heartbeat or more, Michael tried to process his reaction - his body tingling as if it housed an emotion too strong to contain. It was confusing, even as it spread through him in a rush - heating his blood and quickening his pulse like a secondary high that would be over and done too soon. Michael smiled as Brian squeezed him close, as he felt the soft brush of Brian’s hair against his neck and the weight of the taller man’s head resting for a second on his shoulder.
Neither of them were aware of the picture they presented to the passing crowd, beautiful together in their ease.
Music blaring through the sound system called the club’s inhabitants to the dance floor, signaling the end of the evening’s public exhibition. Dozens of men took to the stage, flesh to flesh - leather loaded and ready to fly. They edged those who stood as voyeurs further back until it was dance or be damned.
Taking the lead, Brian avoided the distraction of staying on the floor - purposefully removing both of them from the escape into familiarity that dancing would prove. Speaking into the smaller man’s ear, he teased, “Mikey likes it. He really, really likes it.“ Feeling Michael’s playful shove at his chest, Brian laughed before adding, “Hope you left room in your pants for the main course because it’ll blow that appetizer out of the water.“ He took Michael’s hand, wading through the masses to the stairway that led to the second level. Before they stepped up, Brian turned as Michael tugged to get his attention.
Turning back, Brian released Michael’s hand. He didn‘t have to ask; he could see Michael‘s face - the hesitation and uncertainty clear even in the low lights of the club. “Second guessing?”
It had to be Michael’s choice. Brian knew that, even as he fought against his own impatience - his need to coerce or seduce to get his way at odds with his concern for Michael. His friend was already feeling lost, after Ben. It made Brian feel protective enough to keep Michael safe, even if it was from him.
They were jostled by others making their way to and from the stairs. Still they stood; Brian and Michael, silent and staring into each other’s eyes, on the cusp of a moment that would change their status quo.
Michael didn’t know what lie above, what plans were filling Brian’s head. He could only see the offer in his eyes; the question in Brian’s offered palm. The call to trust, to protect, for which Michael had only one response.
In faith, Michael took Brian’s hand and followed….
- - - - - - -
To only a select few had invitations been made; the kings of connections, cash and cock. Those who knew the score, played the game or could be enticed to keep the secrets on display for them to view.
Michael had never been inside the room to which Brian led him. He’d never known it was there, though Brian clearly had. Before they had barely cleared the door, he watched as Brian spoke to a man who nodded them through - allowing them to pass into darkness. No more than a few steps down a short corridor and they passed through a draped entrance into their destination.
From darkness to dark, they walked into the room. A room enshrouded by the absence of light, or very nearly as there were only a few wall sconces lit on the far side – little to illuminate, but enough to be of use to the room’s inhabitants. Knowing Michael would be nervous, Brian edged their way inside – his fingers passing lightly over the cloth draped walls to guide his way. He smiled at the touch of Michael’s hands on his waist; enjoying the warmth of Michael’s fingers against his skin as they traveled under his shirt, though he knew it was a touchstone gesture and not meant to call to his blood . . . but it was the end result, nonetheless.
When they’d reached a spot perfect for playing spectators, Brian leaned back against the wall and pulled Michael against his chest, back to front. Being a head taller, it would allow him to keep the closest contact with Michael while still being able to see. Any moment now….
Michael frowned in the near-dark, trying to make out what was all around them. He could tell there were others in the same room; listening for a moment, he could hear them shifting about - but no one talked. No one said a word, which seemed odd since they’d just escaped the din of Babylon’s sound system. Silence seemed out of place; though it served to made him feel self-conscious enough not to voice the questions he had. But as the seconds flew by and still nothing was done or said, Michael squeezed Brian’s arm to get his attention. About to speak, he stopped when with a startling suddenness - the room’s void was split by a light from above.
Red against black, in scarlet the light shown down - only a few feet away from where Brian and Michael stood. It focused on the center of what appeared to be a makeshift stage in the middle of the room. Michael blinked as his eyes tried to adjust, only to feel them open wide at the surprising sight that met his gaze.
The vision registering in the exact moment that Brian broke the silence, murmuring, “Showtime.”
A man lay on his stomach, completely nude with arms spread out in full extension above his head, palms flat on the ground. His legs were spread, allowing the light from above to shine down on a hint of the prize housed between his thighs. So still, he stayed - his only movement was the rise and fall of his back with every breath. He was lying on a cloth spread to cover the stage, black velvet - crushed, shining under the red glow that touched it as warmly as it did the pale perfection of the man’s skin. Framed in contrasts, art in flesh.
Michael’s eyes sampled every curve he could see, black lashes low as he followed up the length of the man’s frame. Lean and smooth, he had a runner’s body - muscled but lacking bulk. Michael couldn’t tell what color the man’s hair was, though it was cropped close to his head - probably either black or brown. He wanted to see the man’s face, but it was turned away.
Just at the point when anticipation was at its height, the question of what would happen next was answered with the first smooth pulse of music filling the room. The sound kept soft, hypnotic with an entrancing flow that ebbed and caressed like a touch to the soul.
An announcement, a welcome signaling another’s entrance to the scene.
Like Adonis realized, the man stepped into view. Tall, chiseled and dark blond - he looked like a statue come to life, exuding power with his long stride and quick command. He stopped at last, parade rest - arms behind his back, eyes forward and legs straight. His feet were far enough apart to straddle the other man’s thighs. Towering over the one who belonged to him, he was to be the scene’s choreographer. He was control.
Brian shivered at the sight of him, echoing the shake he felt in Michael as the smaller man backed closer in reaction to the Dom’s presence. Both men were more than a little affected by the two on stage. Brian wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, letting him feel his touch even as both of their gazes stayed locked straight ahead.
As he lowered his arms to his sides, a surprise came into view - in the Dom’s right hand was a black stick. Not long enough to be a cane at only about three feet in length. It was a beautiful, if ominous piece. Lacquered till it shown, it had silver tips on either end with the addition of what appeared to be matching steel rings on either side.
Michael shifted nervously; he was afraid even at the sight of it - afraid that the man was about to bring it down across the other’s back. It was something he didn’t want to see. He made to turn away, to leave but Brian tightened his arms.
Speaking into Michael’s ear, Brian soothed him. “Easy, Mikey. It’s not what you think. Just watch.”
A loud thump started Michael out of replying, his attention drawn back to the stage where the Dom had whacked the stick on the floor - once, twice and then a third. The sound echoed loudly along with the percussion of the song that filtered through the room, in time with the beat. A pause and then again, the Dom lifted his hand and brought down the stick in three raps against the floor by the sub’s head. A quick pause, and the stick landed once more - this time with one and only one strike. The seventh, the last…. A call to act, an order to give….
One that was answered by the one below who moved quickly up and forward until he was on his knees, fully displayed to the room. Head down - bowed to ritual, the sub remained still as he awaited his Dom’s desire. Nipples hard, skin slick with sweat and his sex….. Beautiful and full, hairless and hard. He was what every man could want to be and the very sight of him had Michael trying to swallow past a suddenly dry mouth.
The Dom reached down, taking his sub’s chin into his grip. He pulled the man’s head back until it rested against his leather covered groin, then he stroked his palm down the line of the man’s throat and chest until he reached a nipple and pulled. Hard. The sub gasped, moaning as he tried not to move - tried to accept the sensations his Dom was giving him.
The stick was brought forward, placed at the sub’s throat - a warning to submit.
A warning to which the sub paid due respect as he exhaled in a loud needful breath; giving himself up with a strength of will as he melted back into the presence of his Dom - malleable to the other’s will. Acknowledging the gift as his due, his controller released his hold on the sub’s chest, hooked the stick once more to his belt and with a quick snap of his fingers, demanded the rest of what was already his.
Brian smiled at the view, watching as the sub raised his hands to the sky and allowed his Dom to cuff him. Black bands with a metal ring at the pulse point of each wrist; not unlike the ones Brian had placed on Michael only a couple hours before. The thought of earlier, of the look that had passed, had Brian giving into impulse as he trailed his fingers down both of Michael’s arms to caress the smooth skin at the top of each leather clad arm. He could feel Michael’s pulse under his hands, feel the way his friend clutched them into fists only to open them again as Brian intertwined their fingers until they were hand in hand.
Raising their arms, Brian hugged Michael to him. The move had them as close as they could be, held tight by Brian’s design. A more private mirror of what was on display on stage; a personalized reflection that lent further fire to the blood of both men as the awareness of similarity began to seep in.
Back onstage, the pace and charge had altered - changed as the Dom began to lay his claim.
Again the harsh grip landed, the Dom’s hand on his sub’s face - only this time he turned the man’s head until his face was pressed against the Dom’s groin. Pressing him in, holding the sub still; the Dom arched and circled his hips against the sub’s cheek, his lips. Fingers tangled in the kneeling man’s hair; he was caught, held, owned - his world was leather and heat, scent and hard flesh hidden from view - hidden from taste.
Whether it was the scene, the knowledge of others - untold numbers of others watching, the sub was unable to reason the cause but when he couldn’t control his panting need for more, the sub desperately reached up - twisting around as he grabbed at his Dom’s hips, mouth opening to lick at the ridge of hardened flesh outlined in black. The weight of the decision hitting his mind a moment after his actions. It was a transgression his Dom would not abide, a break in form that had to be reprimanded.
If control of self was beyond his sub’s ability, then that freedom of control would be removed as an option of choice.
Quick enough to have Michael gasping, the Dom advanced. He pushed his sub down, thrusting him onto his stomach where the Dom pulled the other man’s arms behind his back. Detaching the stick from his belt, the Dom attached the sub’s cuffed wrists - one to each end, immobilizing further attempts to touch. The sub clutched his fists, arching into the black velvet beneath him as he savored the restraint of his position. He moaned as his Dom lifted him forcefully back up onto his knees, pulling him back as the Dom knelt behind him. Encased by strong arms holding him against his Dom’s body, the sub panted with quick needful breaths as he was caught fast in the anticipation of what could come next.
Whatever his Dom chose that to be….
Brian could feel the tension in Michael, the tightness of his body against his own. Michael was shaking with it, with almost the same anticipation as the sub onstage. Locked into the scene, waiting for more. Smiling, Brian nuzzled against Michael’s ear and down his neck - kissing the smooth skin at the base of Michael’s throat, breathing in his scent even as he felt the throb of Michael’s pulse against his lips.
A pulse that jumped when the Dom broke his silence, his voice filling the room - accentuated by the microphone hidden in his mask.
“Whom do you serve?” His words rasped over his sub’s sensitized skin, chorused by the tightening of his arms across the other’s body.
Breathless, but sure, the sub answered, “You, Sir. I serve you.”
Continuing, the Dom demanded, “And what is mine?”
“If it please, Sir. I am.”
The Dom raked his hands down the sub’s body from chest to thighs, until they framed the man’s desire. “It does please me.” He reached up with his left arm, pressing the man against him until the sub was immobile. “However, you still have much to learn.” The Dom closed the distance then, taking the sub’s hard length into his hand with a grip harsh enough to have the sub crying out. “You lack restraint. You lack control. You will give me your control. You will give it to me, even as you fight to lose it.” Stroking his sub’s flesh with a quick jerk, the Dom ordered, “Your control is your gift. Say it.”
Struggling to speak past his lust clouded senses, the sub moaned, “My control is my gift, Sir.”
“Show me.”
Two words, sharp and hard. Followed instantly upon by the Dom as he arched into the sub’s body, driving the other man’s hips up and the sub’s cock into the circle of his hand. Action as instruction, as command.
Enflamed by the allowance, the sub was eager to comply. Keeping his head back, the line of his throat bared to view and to the random touch and taste of his Dom’s mouth - the sub worked himself into the bliss of his Dom’s fist. Arching forward, his body served as an alter to vice as he bowed and thrust towards the source of all his pleasure. He glistened under the scarlet lights, wet with sweat as he continued to fuck himself into and through his Dom’s fingers.
Michael jerked at the touch of a hand on his skin, realizing it was Brian at his back. His friend had a hand under Michael’s shirt, slowly drawing the material up as he trailed his fingers over Michael’s chest. Panting a bit at the impact of what he was watching and how he was feeling all seared through his blood, Michael arched backwards into the line of Brian’s body; his eyes blinking before half closing at the feel of the harden ridge against his ass. The evidence was clear that Brian, like Michael, was riding the wave of lust from the stage.
Twins in need, the sub and Michael moaned as the men at their backs laid a claiming grip at their breasts. A twist, a pull, a roll of nipples in tandem to the scorching press of lips against their necks. The sub whimpered as he jerked under the pressure of his Dom’s teeth as they bit into his shoulder, the pain a welcomed addition to the pleasure he was being allowed. Michael curled into the sharp touch, murmuring Brian’s name even as he was prevented from turning to question the touch - still held tight, subject to Brian’s play. When Brian followed suit with the unfolding plot and bit into Michael’s skin, gently but with intent to mark - Michael caught his breath, clutching at Brian’s hand as their still-entwined fingers curled into a fist.
And then Brian’s voice in his ear, breathless but insistent. “Watch them.” As he spoke, he was moving into the press and presence of Michael’s body, answering Michael’s unconscious movements as they echoed those onstage. Both of them were caught in the moment, Brian more aware of consequence than Michael by the nature of his jaded experience - but still becoming lost in the view, in the way it was affecting Michael and in the way Michael felt against him. So close…. “So close he’s about to lose it, so close he’s about to come. You can almost feel it.” He lowered their clasped hands until the line of Michael’s arm and leather clad wrist were pressed dangerously close to Michael’s groin. An inch more and then….
Michael tried to bite back a cry, the sound ending on a moan as he felt his arm being pressed against his trapped hard-on. Brian held it there, arching into him with circling hips - driving Michael into and against the hard cuff at his wrist. Hot words, “Feel it,” burned through his brain - Brian’s voice calling him to follow. It wasn’t even Brian’s touch against him; it was his own - albeit by Brian’s command, but it was more than Michael could stand in the rush.
Michael’s eyes snapped open, sighted dead ahead as a sharp cry split through the fire of his awareness.
“PLEASE!” The sub’s plea, his desperation clear. He was being held on the edge, his Dom’s grip tight - preventing him from moving, from reaching his end. Struggling against his bound hands, against the imprisoning band of his Dom’s arm holding him immobilized and against the screaming of his own body - he groaned with frustration, until with cry he folded back - his violence spent as he lie against his Dom in submission, awaiting either mercy or the lack of from the man to whom he’d given himself.
Again, the Dom’s voice resonated - the sound tickling over the occupants of the room, almost tangible as it touched them from a distance. “Beg me properly. Beg me true.”
A pause, a moment as the sub tried to think past the torrent of his blood - the chaos of his pounding heart. As he fought to breathe, even as he drowned in his need. “Ahhhhh….” He groaned and jerked as his Dom squeezed tighter, fingers slick but merciless in their control. “Si… Sir, please. Please let me.” Near to tears, he could only manage but a few more words - husky and almost gruff, “If it please you, Sir. Please.”
The clutch of Michael’s fingers was a pain Brian bore in gladness; each word from the sub onstage having caused Michael to shake all the more. Waiting in the scant moment between the question and its answer, Brian pressed still harder down on Michael’s arm, still tighter into the warmth and curves of Michael’s ass - stimulating them both even as they stumbled along the edge. Their pleasure held at the brink, controlled by the Dom’s will as surely as the man controlled his sub’s own.
Distracted from intention, Michael was beyond the ability to care about aftermath and worry. His mind held by one thought, one plea - it screamed the same, ‘Please,’ the sub had whispered. Too much, not enough. He was weak with it, needful in a way that was more primal than he’d known. The want was almost more than he could….
“Do it. Do it now!” Rough, thick and powerful - the words echoed. The Dom’s answer given, his permission gained.
A cry sounded; the sub thrashing forward as he rode the fist that housed him. He dissolved into the bliss of yes, the freedom to know the end that was everything as his body jerked and spilled hot for all to see.
Shocked as it came, hit full on by his own response - Michael shuddered and fell. Legs unable to stand, he collapsed back into Brian - crying aloud in kind to the call from the stage as he too was lost and found in a moment of fire. Singed by the heat of it, he couldn’t see past the force of his climax - white hot and harsh as it came.
Brian caught him before Michael could fall, the urgency to hold and protect delaying his own bringing. Turning them quickly, he leaned his friend against the draped wall and hugged him close as Michael rode the last of it.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael buried his face against Brian’s chest and tried not to think around the havoc of his pleasure-charged senses. He wanted to hide away from the knowledge of what had happened. Feeling embarrassed, yet energized. He was shell-shocked and questioning, but wary of the answers that might come. Shivering despite the warmth of Brian’s embrace, Michael tried not to cringe at the sensation of moisture at his groin. And at how he must look now – rumpled, sweaty and hiding.
As Michael shifted, Brian groaned softly – still hard, still wanting. He threaded his fingers through the dark silk of Michael’s hair, pulling Michael’s face up. Fuck, the way Michael looked at him when at last he opened his eyes. Even in the low light of the room, the red spotlight glinted off the darkness of Michael’s eyes as they shown with emotion. Brian saw the fear, the doubt, a little bit of hope and a need so strong it was beautiful.
It was expression that called to him; one Brian wanted to harbor as his blood begged for more.
He watched as Michael opened his mouth to speak; the beginning of Brian’s name on the air until suddenly Brian stopped Michael’s lips with his own. Full, soft lips parting for him – Michael opening so Brian could take the taste of him on his tongue, feeling him with his mouth until both men were breathless and clutching each other close.
Breaking their kiss, Brian sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled Michael’s hand between them – letting him feel the hard length still trapped within the tight brown leather. He watched, eyes drawn down as Michael unconsciously licked his lips before curling his palm against Brian. At the touch, Brian whispered Michael’s name. They both understood the importance of the moment. It was clear as their gazes locked and they moved in to kiss again. Close, so near to having it all….
Until with a blinding flash, the moment broke as the lights in the room were brought up to full glare – lending Michael his first look at what was around them. At who was around them…. Dozens of men sprawled in every corner; on the floor, on sofas and chairs. They were everywhere, a mass of bodies. And all of them were as caught up in what they’d seen as both Michael and Brian had been. Well on the way to becoming an orgy.
And more than enough to have Michael pulling back from Brian’s touch; enough to have him ready to run from the promise of only a moment before. He would not, could not share with Brian and have it happen like this. It wasn’t a game he was willing to play.
Michael pushed out of Brian’s arms, eyes searching out the exit even as he was jerked back as Brian caught him against his chest. “Brian, I can’t. I….”
Brian silenced him, “Easy, Mikey. Easy.” He hugged him, feeling the man’s need to escape through the nervous energy he was projecting. “It’s okay. We’ll just go down and have a drink.” He hadn’t meant to let things go so far, but he wouldn’t deny how it had affected him – having Michael come apart in his arms was something he’d have imbedded in his brain forever, he knew. But above his own racing pulse and the bulge of his hard-on, Brian wanted one thing more than his own satisfaction. “Stay, Mikey. Just stay….”
Locked into wildly varying emotions, which ran from his deep desire to have more of what they’d shared to his increasing sense of awkwardness at having had all this play out in front of others, Michael found safety in the stubbornness of his anger. He couldn’t help but feel he was being placated by the very man who had caused his sense of turmoil. Michael refused to question if it was pity on Brian’s part; he didn’t want to know the answer if it was. All he could manage in the that moment was a small shake of his head, words failing - and a silent prayer that he would be allowed the space he needed to process it all.
With great reluctance, Brian eased his grip on Michael until their only connection was his hand curled around the leather at his friend’s wrist. Brian trailed a long touch through Michael’s hair and down his neck with his free hand, speaking through his disappointment as he broke contact following two words, “Always, Michael.”
A last look at Brian, a nod, and Michael walked out of the room - the weight of Brian’s eyes on him the entire way.
tbc... in Part 2.
hugs
xof
Title: “Encompassed…”
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17 (Very, very….lol)
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: First Time, Drama, Angst
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do…. My two OMC’s are mine, even though Alexis would like it very much if I’d allow them to visit her house…lol.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 11 parts. (over 126 pages total )
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.
Encompassed…
By xof
February 1, 2005
- - - - - - -
Preface - by Alexis
D/s is a broad term for Dominance/submission. This one term can describe a scene between a Dominant and submissive, or more rarely, a 24/7 relationship between a Master and slave. Regardless of what is occurs between them, people who are involved in these relationships remember the three basic tenets of BSDM: safe, sane and consensual.
For the purposes of this small intro, I'll speak to more of the 24/7 relationship or relationships where D/s is included within daily life.
D/s relationships or scenes are not about pain or torture. The misconception that Dominants sit around and are 'served' by the submissives is an oversimplified way of thinking of these types of relationships. Additionally, to think that the submissive is simply 'used' by their dominant is another narrow-minded view.
Like any relationship, D/s relationships take work, from both parties. Both parties are responsible for the upkeep of the relationship. A sub or a slave isn't expected to be passive and leave all decisions up to their respective other half. Scenes are negotiated, checklists and surveys are done. Nothing is entered into lightly!
Good D/s relationships come from a place of love and respect. They come from mutual admiration for their respective partner's place. And they are never abusive!
To give over and to accept control are two wonderful experiences. I hope that you enjoy the story and approach it with an open mind and most of all, enjoy the way xof has presented D/s in this story.
- - - - - - -
“Encompassed…”
By xof
- - - - - - -
Part 1
- - - - - - -
The silence of the night was broken, split by the metallic click flip of a lighter being opened and palmed with its fire at full flame. Tilting his head up slightly from the warm comfort of its resting place, Brian lit the end of the remains of their last joint - reviving it after it had gone out a moment before. Only a toke or two each was left, but he was always one to see a good thing through to the end.
Smiling in amusement at his own thought, Brian flicked his wrist and closed his favorite lighter down. Drawing deep, he held the smoke inside and leaned his head back to nuzzle down into the feel of his headrest - caught between the high, the warmth of the heat inside and the pleasure of warm skin against the back of his neck. Letting go of one as he exhaled, Brian turned his head to enjoy the sensation of the other - resting his cheek against the back upon which he was lounging.
Reaching his arm out lazily, he handed off the weed with a soft murmured, “Last one, better hold it in.”
His human pillow shifted slightly as Brian’s offering was accepted, then time fell in with silence for a bit until the moment’s ease was interrupted by the sound of coughing. Brian turned onto his side; his hand rubbing over the expanse of other’s back until the violence settled and was gone. “Easy, Mikey. It’s strong.”
Michael didn’t answer. He just nodded as he lay his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes, content to remain sprawled out on his stomach over Brian’s white shag rug - floating in a haze without cause for thought. Or memory… Or pain. There was no sense of loss in this moment, only the contentment of familiarity and home. His safe haven embraced after too long in the shadows of sadness.
After too many days of avoiding the company of others, of Brian…. And all because he’d been desperate to process the reality of being as alone as he had been left.
Left by….
He had to fight from voicing the name of the one who had gone; who had chosen to remove himself from Michael’s life to follow his path through Tibetan climbs on the road to Enlightenment. How was one to fight against the call of the intangible? How was a man supposed to compare or compete? Especially with a ticking clock striking down each moment that his lover hesitated to follow his dream.
In the end, Michael had accepted that it wasn’t a battle he could win. And so he’d said goodbye with a smile, leaving the tears to fall in private.
The irony being that all this turmoil he was feeling inside was but the calm before the coming storm….
“Michaellllllllll….” Brian teased in a low sing-song voice, trying to get his friend’s attention. When Michael didn’t respond, Brian sighed. He too was feeling the first true sense of relaxation he’d known in the weeks following Justin’s departure. Too much partying to forget, fucking to feel and working longer hours than he’d ever done before - all to get through the days and nights without having to admit or acknowledge that he needed more than had seemed to satisfy in the past.
He could put up the front that all things were fine, fabulous - nothing out of place in his world. But Brian was coming to realize that each passing vice consumed or conquered now seemed lacking - the edge dulled by experience. Not that he was ready to suspend his habits. He figured that his funk would pass with time.
Besides, there was Michael to consider as well. His best friend was at risk of becoming a hermit after Ben’s leaving. Like Brian, working too much - but unlike Brian in that he instantly vanished back to his solitary apartment when sought out to join the gang on the town. Brian was of the opinion that Michael needed to stop internalizing his pain, and if Brian had to force him back out into the life of Liberty - as he planned to do this very evening, then all the better for them both.
Selfish as it was, Brian enjoyed seeing life through Michael’s eyes. Watching him react and respond to the men, the music, the dancing and such - it made Brian feel more than his own jaded nature would allow him on his own. And tonight he planned to pay very close attention to everything Michael.
It was time for a change from their routine. To once more be the purveyor of another first in Michael’s life.
But first things first….
Brian rose up from his perpendicular resting place, which had consisted of using Michael’s body as his pillow. A wicked grin foreshadowing his intent, he straddled Michael’s lower back and shoved his hands beneath the thin yellow cotton t-shirt that had been rucked up earlier as Michael lay down on the rug - tickle torture intent on Brian’s mind.
“Brian!” Michael jerked and thrashed, desperate to free himself from Brian’s torment - laughing even as he fought to turn around under Brian’s touch. It took major struggling, but finally Michael managed to roll over and grab at his friend’s hands. He tried to get Brian to stop, panting and laughing until his face was flushed and damp with tears.
Just when he thought he’d managed to plead his way out of more, Michael cried out in surprise as Brian grabbed him and rolled them both over - coming to a stop with Michael lying atop his body. He laughed as Michael made an attempt to pull away, barred by the strength of Brian’s hold - but the laugh turned into a gasp as Michael’s squirming inadvertently brought their groins together in a way that had each freezing on the cusp of a moan.
Michael held still, breathing hard from their play and from the affects of being against Brian. Captured in the moment and by the man below, he waited breathlessly for Brian’s next move - unable to control the impulse of his gaze as it wandered from Brian’s eyes to his friend’s mouth and back, more than once in the interim.
Following his instincts, Brian dragged a hand up to thread through Michael’s hair and pulled him down. Speaking low, “Come here, Mikey,” he made to take the kiss they both wanted. He murmured in appreciation as Michael gave into the touch of his lips, into the guiding of his tongue as they opened for more.
Freefalling…. It was the best word Michael could find to describe the sensation of Brian’s kiss. It took him outside himself and warmed him in a way that left him riding a deeper high than any smoke could provide. He didn’t even stop to reason why it was happened, only glad that it was.
The sudden sweep of need rushed over them as Brian clutched Michael close, turning to cover his friend only to pull away with equal swiftness when….
“Oh shit!”
Lifting up, Brian frowned at the sight of Michael lying in the remains of their pizza box - his back and side covered in marinara sauce. One look at the mess, at Michael’s grimacing face and Brian lost his composure - completely. He fell back onto the rug and laughed so hard, so gut-wrenchingly loud that Michael could only shake his head and say, “You asshole.”
Finally recovering his breath enough to speak, Brian sat up. “And proud of it.” He watched Michael ease out of the complete mess of cardboard and dipping sauce. “Speaking of asses, you realize the only thing that’s saving yours right now is that the box was on the floor rather than the rug, right?”
The double entendre presented with those words weighed upon them both, but present concerns overrode any possible intent as Michael stood up and tried to hold the shirt out, away from his skin. “You started it, you shit. Now what am I gonna do?”
Brian went to Michael, circling him to get a look at the disaster area that used to be a shirt. “I’d say the t-shirt’s a goner. Take it off and I’ll dump it with the rest of the mess. You can have one of mine after you wash in the bathroom.”
Michael slowly slid the icky wreck over his head and left for cleanup, missing Brian’s quiet, “Perfect timing.”
Making quick work of cleaning up the loft floor, Brian walked up the steps to his bedroom and pulled off his clothes. There wasn’t any time to spare because he didn’t know how long Michael would take, but he wanted to be ready for his friend’s return.
Several minutes later, Michael exited the bathroom toweling his hair from where it had gotten wet. He’d decided a quick in and out in the shower would be the easiest way to cleanup, especially since he didn‘t want to smell like a pizzeria for the rest of the night. He’d grimaced at having to put his jeans back on since they’d been splattered by sauce here and there too, but he hadn’t brought anything else to wear into the room.
Coming to a stop, Michael pulled the towel off his head just as he was grabbed from behind. Laughing at Brian’s playfulness - it was something he’d been missing, Michael asked. “What the hell? Brian, cut it out.” He tried to step away, but once more he was held from escaping.
“Now, now… Mikey. Behave.” Brian’s voice against his ear was provocative enough for Michael to close his eyes, giving into the desire to stay in Brian’s arms and absorb the warmth of his friend against his back. He was startled after a bit to feel a shirt being drawn over his head, but he trustingly raised his arms as Brian stretched the fabric over his torso. Stretched being the operative word….
Looking down at what he’d been plastered in, Michael looked up and back at Brian. “Black lycra? If you tell me this is a Justin kink-night leftover, I’m gonna kick you in the balls.”
Tisking dramatically, Brian circled round. “I bought it brand new, smartass. For you.”
Of course one look at Brian’s change in apparel, and Michael’s questions fell into forgetfulness. The one word that did register in Michael’s awestruck brain was a silent, ‘Wow.’ Long legs encased in leather; leather brown and dark, custom tailored to look warn down and rough in all the right bends and places with scuffing at the knees and along the inner thighs - made to look like its owner had ridden long and hard any manner of creature or man he could conquer. Michael swallowed back the cough that threatened to pass through his suddenly dry throat, and looked further up the line of Brian’s body.
The pants began in a low slung absence of a waistband, just a line that dipped and cut down in a tight ‘V’ which hugged Brian’s hips, drawing Michael’s gaze down to the supple leather stretched over flesh which housed Brian’s groin with deliberate effect. There couldn’t have been an inch between the beginning of the suede cords that held the pants closed and what must have been the beginning of the hair hidden just below. Feeling his face heating up, Michael looked up quickly - taking in the sleeveless silk t-shirt in matching brown that covered Brian’s chest, and then up to the man’s face.
A face that held an answering warmth, and a satisfaction at Michael’s initial reaction to the view. A face spread by an intimate smile…. A face with mischief shining through hazel eyes.
“Oh, no. No fucking way!” Michael shook his head as he reached to pull his newly acquired shirt back over his head, only to be stopped as Brian jerked his hands away and held him still. “I’m not going to Babylon with you. Not tonight.” He tried to side-step Brian, only to find himself pressed up against the wall.
Brian lowered his head to Michael’s, foreheads touching as they looked into the other’s eyes. “Go with me, Mikey. Especially tonight.” He lowered his mouth to Michael’s to still any protest, keeping the kiss soft and light but with enough guile to silence Michael’s words. He knew through long experience that Michael had always managed to avoid going to Babylon’s Leather Ball. Either because of work, illness (feigned or real, who could say) or boyfriend - it was the one night a year that Brian could count on Michael’s absence. Over the years, Brian had stopped bothering to ask - using it as teasing material but nothing serious. He’d never really thought to question why Michael avoided it; had only really put the clues together recently when he realized that for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were unattached and off the clock together on the same night as the ball.
“Let me take you.” The words were murmured once more across their passing lips, Brian’s voice soft and low. “A new adventure, just the two of us.” His smiled as Michael shivered against him, breathing a sharp gasp between them as Brian licked once, in the barest way, across his lip. “Say yes.”
Michael knew what Brian was doing, knew that his friend understood the power that he held over him. It wasn’t something they would discuss, but it wasn’t something they wanted to end either. Brian would push, Michael would give…. But it didn’t stop him from pushing Brian back a step, hands flat against Brian’s chest, the silk that lay between them warm from Brian’s skin.
“I can’t think when you do that.” The words, he knew were silly. They merely voiced the exact affect Brian had wanted to achieve. But Michael couldn’t feel resentment, as he stood in Brian’s arms - his lips still wet from their kiss.
Brian smiled at him, affection in his voice as well as triumph, “Then don’t think. Say yes.”
Michael bit his lip, needing to ask before he could agree, “We go together, and leave together, yes?”
Brian brushed his hand up Michael’s neck, threading his fingers into the drying spikes of his friend’s black hair. He knew what Michael was asking, that he not abandon Michael for the nearest trick. It wasn’t even with difficulty that he answered, “Yes.”
Michael looked up at him, a nervous smile in response. He wasn’t happy about where they were going, but Brian’s answer made him feel safer. He didn’t stop to question why he’d felt fear in the first place. He just said, “Yes.”
- - - - - - -
It was a banner year for Babylon’s Leather Ball decorating budget, judging by the décor that surrounded them upon entering the show. Brian let out a whistle upon his first glimpse of the view. Michael actually stopped to stare, only realizing he was blocking the entrance when he felt Brian against his back - a strong hand on his shoulder and the other at his waist. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and walked further inside; trying to act like it was a normal night.
But Michael knew there was nothing normal about it; not the way the place looked, not the way he was dressed and not the way all this was making him feel. He looked down at his clothing and shook his head, trying to fight against the voice inside that said he looked like a wannabe fuck-toy or a fool. Brian’s eyes, his encouragement, were the only things that had gotten Michael out of the loft dressed this way.
Well, that and the fact that once he’d struggled into the outfit, Brian couldn’t seem to keep his hands off. Touching him, feeling the smooth clinging slide of the lycra tee that fit his compact frame like it had been sprayed on and the sensation of new leather as it molded to his legs and ass. The pants were black leather, jean cut and tight - leaving nothing to imagine as they followed the curves of Michael’s body like a lover’s touch - covetous and firm. He’d had to leave his underwear behind, much to Brian’s amusement. But Michael had lost the desire to be defensive on that issue after Brian ran his hands over his ass a time or two.
He’d also lost the desire to question Brian about the cost of the clothes, too. Which in reflection, Michael figured was probably why Brian had touched him in the first place. Any distraction in a storm….
Brian would have disagreed. It wasn’t the cost; it was the end result. And to Brian, the result was gut-clenchingly hot. He’d stood there, impatiently waiting for Michael to get his tail out of the bathroom when out his friend came - black and glorious. The shirt, the pants, the black shine of the Docs that Michael had already owned - all of it perfection coordinated. Brian had stepped up into the bedroom, and slowly, appraisingly, he’d circled Michael as his friend shifted silently, awaiting Brian’s verdict.
The whistle had startled Michael into laughing, the sound quickly turning into a gasp as Brian ran his hands over Michael’s flat stomach - circling again to let his hand follow down and over Michael’s behind.
Giving a quick pop to the cheek he was molesting, Brian had quickly tussled Michael’s hair - mussing it into styled chaos. Slapping Michael’s hands away with a firm tisk of disapproval, he’d then given Michael the final gift for their evening.
A gift that Brian now was clasping in his hand as he led Michael through the crowd and over to the bar - three inch wide black leather studded cuffs buckled on each wrist; the matching accessory to Michael’s leather look. It was the one thing that night that Michael hadn’t questioned or looked at with disbelief. He’d just stood there, eyes a little wide - curious and…. And almost needful. Brian had stood, silent in return as he slowly lifted each of Michael’s wrists to fasten the cuffs in place.
They’d stayed there, looking at each other as Brian’s fingers caressed the soft skin of Michael’s arm above the leather. It wasn’t a moment that lasted much beyond its start, but in the time it lasted….
“Mikey, come back, come back wherever you are….”
Pulled away from the memory, Michael found Brian handing him a double shot of liquid courage. He threw it back, coughing as the alcohol burned its way down into his gut; then he turned to face the throng that surrounded them - ever mindful of Brian at his side with his hand on Michael’s back; his safe harbor in a sea of sin.
Brian had seen the scene before, through the years at Babylon and his own amateur indulgences with the odd trick. But this was Michael’s first view and Brian found his own eyes locked on Michael as he stood mesmerized. Every reaction was writ large across Michael’s face, a kaleidoscope of emotions - shock, awe, hunger, fear. They were all housed in Michael’s eyes, in the sweat of his brow and the deepening of his breath. Like a moth to flame, he was drawn into what he saw…. Curious, but still cautious of getting burned.
They stayed on the sidelines for a time; wrapped in a wave of leather and men, ever watchful but skirting the edge of actually joining in with the fray. A parade of men passed, harnessed and chapped. Leather pants, leather shorts, leather jocks - so many different looks and designs that Michael felt almost conservative in comparison to some of the outfits he saw.
Caught up in playing voyeur, Michael missed that he was the focus of not a few looks himself. Looks that were shot down by Brian’s possessive stance, his claiming touch and the back-off look in his eyes. Just as Michael had wanted not to be left alone, Brian wanted their night not to be interfered with by others. He wanted to keep what was his, to himself. It was a change in attitude that he didn’t stop to reason, focused instead on the next step of their ride.
Taking Michael’s hand, Brian pulled him through the masses until they came to the edge of what was normally the main dance floor. Tonight it had been emptied, set up as a demonstration area for the floor show. Dominated by the large St. Andrews cross, the floor held only two occupants - the players in tonight’s public exhibition. The Dom standing tall and fierce, the sub already locked into place immobile and waiting. Brian came to a stop, holding Michael in front of him - the smaller man’s back to his chest. The perfect position to watch, to witness….
They’d missed the earlier submissives; those who waited in line for just a taste of leather across their backs. But Brian was glad to see that they had made it for the main event. Music pulsed through the speakers, an insistent throbbing percussion that intensified the mood of the room. It was kept at a manageable level, one meant to accompany the slap of leather to flesh. Setting the stage for the chorus to come….
And then it came….
*Slap, Slap, Slap*
The suddenness of it, the effect of seeing it - of watching the flogger being landed again and again on the submissive’s upper back, his ass and thighs…. Seeing him gasp and moan in acceptance and need.
Michael jerked with the force of the blows, his body moving unconsciously in echo to the hits. Moving back, fitting himself into the welcome of Brian’s arms…. Arms that housed him, held him - kept him close. He bit back a sound, his whole focus caught and held - fixated on the wonder before him, both intrigued and repelled. It was almost like he was the one being hit, the one giving up - giving in…. The one willing to bare the blows with thanks and pleas for more.
It was like he didn’t even recognize the body and mind that he possessed; an introduction to new avenues of himself that had him aching to know “why,” “how“…. Even as he huddled closer to Brian at the thought of “when.”
Brian found his eyes shifting from the action on stage, settling instead on his friend. Unaware of his own tease, Michael continued to move, to shift and push against Brian as he stared ahead. Brian sucked in a breath, smiling with a wicked light in his eyes as his own body responded to the friction. He was enjoying Michael’s enrapt expression, the press of his dark head as it lay against Brian’s shoulder and the feel of Michael’s arms intertwined with Brian’s hugging grasp.
Unable to resist, Brian leaned in and spoke in Michael’s ear - enjoying the shudder his words caused. “It must hurt soooo good.”
Brian’s words fell just as the man onstage cried out, riding the high of his pain’s pleasure. He was saying, “Yes,” and, “Please, Sir,” in almost endless repetition; his voice growing rough with use as he pushed back as much as his restraints would allow, pushed into the strokes of his master’s strap. His body slick with sweat and reddened from neck to knees, still he called for more. And more, and more - until with a last well placed snap that bounced off his skin hard enough to almost drown out his moan, the scene found its end and the sub, his reluctant freedom.
Released from his restraints, the sub flowed like water in a stream….his body folding in grace until he was on his knees, head down to touch the floor. He remained so until his Dom pulled him up, hand in hair and smiled with pride and satisfaction at his sub’s response. Surrounded by the cacophonous chaos of the clapping crowd, they had eyes only for each other - locked intimately alone, no matter their audience until with a kiss the moment passed and the show was over.
Even as the two left the stage, Brian could feel Michael softly shaking. He stayed silent for awhile, letting Michael have the time he seemed to need.
Letting his eyes close for a heartbeat or more, Michael tried to process his reaction - his body tingling as if it housed an emotion too strong to contain. It was confusing, even as it spread through him in a rush - heating his blood and quickening his pulse like a secondary high that would be over and done too soon. Michael smiled as Brian squeezed him close, as he felt the soft brush of Brian’s hair against his neck and the weight of the taller man’s head resting for a second on his shoulder.
Neither of them were aware of the picture they presented to the passing crowd, beautiful together in their ease.
Music blaring through the sound system called the club’s inhabitants to the dance floor, signaling the end of the evening’s public exhibition. Dozens of men took to the stage, flesh to flesh - leather loaded and ready to fly. They edged those who stood as voyeurs further back until it was dance or be damned.
Taking the lead, Brian avoided the distraction of staying on the floor - purposefully removing both of them from the escape into familiarity that dancing would prove. Speaking into the smaller man’s ear, he teased, “Mikey likes it. He really, really likes it.“ Feeling Michael’s playful shove at his chest, Brian laughed before adding, “Hope you left room in your pants for the main course because it’ll blow that appetizer out of the water.“ He took Michael’s hand, wading through the masses to the stairway that led to the second level. Before they stepped up, Brian turned as Michael tugged to get his attention.
Turning back, Brian released Michael’s hand. He didn‘t have to ask; he could see Michael‘s face - the hesitation and uncertainty clear even in the low lights of the club. “Second guessing?”
It had to be Michael’s choice. Brian knew that, even as he fought against his own impatience - his need to coerce or seduce to get his way at odds with his concern for Michael. His friend was already feeling lost, after Ben. It made Brian feel protective enough to keep Michael safe, even if it was from him.
They were jostled by others making their way to and from the stairs. Still they stood; Brian and Michael, silent and staring into each other’s eyes, on the cusp of a moment that would change their status quo.
Michael didn’t know what lie above, what plans were filling Brian’s head. He could only see the offer in his eyes; the question in Brian’s offered palm. The call to trust, to protect, for which Michael had only one response.
In faith, Michael took Brian’s hand and followed….
- - - - - - -
To only a select few had invitations been made; the kings of connections, cash and cock. Those who knew the score, played the game or could be enticed to keep the secrets on display for them to view.
Michael had never been inside the room to which Brian led him. He’d never known it was there, though Brian clearly had. Before they had barely cleared the door, he watched as Brian spoke to a man who nodded them through - allowing them to pass into darkness. No more than a few steps down a short corridor and they passed through a draped entrance into their destination.
From darkness to dark, they walked into the room. A room enshrouded by the absence of light, or very nearly as there were only a few wall sconces lit on the far side – little to illuminate, but enough to be of use to the room’s inhabitants. Knowing Michael would be nervous, Brian edged their way inside – his fingers passing lightly over the cloth draped walls to guide his way. He smiled at the touch of Michael’s hands on his waist; enjoying the warmth of Michael’s fingers against his skin as they traveled under his shirt, though he knew it was a touchstone gesture and not meant to call to his blood . . . but it was the end result, nonetheless.
When they’d reached a spot perfect for playing spectators, Brian leaned back against the wall and pulled Michael against his chest, back to front. Being a head taller, it would allow him to keep the closest contact with Michael while still being able to see. Any moment now….
Michael frowned in the near-dark, trying to make out what was all around them. He could tell there were others in the same room; listening for a moment, he could hear them shifting about - but no one talked. No one said a word, which seemed odd since they’d just escaped the din of Babylon’s sound system. Silence seemed out of place; though it served to made him feel self-conscious enough not to voice the questions he had. But as the seconds flew by and still nothing was done or said, Michael squeezed Brian’s arm to get his attention. About to speak, he stopped when with a startling suddenness - the room’s void was split by a light from above.
Red against black, in scarlet the light shown down - only a few feet away from where Brian and Michael stood. It focused on the center of what appeared to be a makeshift stage in the middle of the room. Michael blinked as his eyes tried to adjust, only to feel them open wide at the surprising sight that met his gaze.
The vision registering in the exact moment that Brian broke the silence, murmuring, “Showtime.”
A man lay on his stomach, completely nude with arms spread out in full extension above his head, palms flat on the ground. His legs were spread, allowing the light from above to shine down on a hint of the prize housed between his thighs. So still, he stayed - his only movement was the rise and fall of his back with every breath. He was lying on a cloth spread to cover the stage, black velvet - crushed, shining under the red glow that touched it as warmly as it did the pale perfection of the man’s skin. Framed in contrasts, art in flesh.
Michael’s eyes sampled every curve he could see, black lashes low as he followed up the length of the man’s frame. Lean and smooth, he had a runner’s body - muscled but lacking bulk. Michael couldn’t tell what color the man’s hair was, though it was cropped close to his head - probably either black or brown. He wanted to see the man’s face, but it was turned away.
Just at the point when anticipation was at its height, the question of what would happen next was answered with the first smooth pulse of music filling the room. The sound kept soft, hypnotic with an entrancing flow that ebbed and caressed like a touch to the soul.
An announcement, a welcome signaling another’s entrance to the scene.
Like Adonis realized, the man stepped into view. Tall, chiseled and dark blond - he looked like a statue come to life, exuding power with his long stride and quick command. He stopped at last, parade rest - arms behind his back, eyes forward and legs straight. His feet were far enough apart to straddle the other man’s thighs. Towering over the one who belonged to him, he was to be the scene’s choreographer. He was control.
Brian shivered at the sight of him, echoing the shake he felt in Michael as the smaller man backed closer in reaction to the Dom’s presence. Both men were more than a little affected by the two on stage. Brian wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, letting him feel his touch even as both of their gazes stayed locked straight ahead.
As he lowered his arms to his sides, a surprise came into view - in the Dom’s right hand was a black stick. Not long enough to be a cane at only about three feet in length. It was a beautiful, if ominous piece. Lacquered till it shown, it had silver tips on either end with the addition of what appeared to be matching steel rings on either side.
Michael shifted nervously; he was afraid even at the sight of it - afraid that the man was about to bring it down across the other’s back. It was something he didn’t want to see. He made to turn away, to leave but Brian tightened his arms.
Speaking into Michael’s ear, Brian soothed him. “Easy, Mikey. It’s not what you think. Just watch.”
A loud thump started Michael out of replying, his attention drawn back to the stage where the Dom had whacked the stick on the floor - once, twice and then a third. The sound echoed loudly along with the percussion of the song that filtered through the room, in time with the beat. A pause and then again, the Dom lifted his hand and brought down the stick in three raps against the floor by the sub’s head. A quick pause, and the stick landed once more - this time with one and only one strike. The seventh, the last…. A call to act, an order to give….
One that was answered by the one below who moved quickly up and forward until he was on his knees, fully displayed to the room. Head down - bowed to ritual, the sub remained still as he awaited his Dom’s desire. Nipples hard, skin slick with sweat and his sex….. Beautiful and full, hairless and hard. He was what every man could want to be and the very sight of him had Michael trying to swallow past a suddenly dry mouth.
The Dom reached down, taking his sub’s chin into his grip. He pulled the man’s head back until it rested against his leather covered groin, then he stroked his palm down the line of the man’s throat and chest until he reached a nipple and pulled. Hard. The sub gasped, moaning as he tried not to move - tried to accept the sensations his Dom was giving him.
The stick was brought forward, placed at the sub’s throat - a warning to submit.
A warning to which the sub paid due respect as he exhaled in a loud needful breath; giving himself up with a strength of will as he melted back into the presence of his Dom - malleable to the other’s will. Acknowledging the gift as his due, his controller released his hold on the sub’s chest, hooked the stick once more to his belt and with a quick snap of his fingers, demanded the rest of what was already his.
Brian smiled at the view, watching as the sub raised his hands to the sky and allowed his Dom to cuff him. Black bands with a metal ring at the pulse point of each wrist; not unlike the ones Brian had placed on Michael only a couple hours before. The thought of earlier, of the look that had passed, had Brian giving into impulse as he trailed his fingers down both of Michael’s arms to caress the smooth skin at the top of each leather clad arm. He could feel Michael’s pulse under his hands, feel the way his friend clutched them into fists only to open them again as Brian intertwined their fingers until they were hand in hand.
Raising their arms, Brian hugged Michael to him. The move had them as close as they could be, held tight by Brian’s design. A more private mirror of what was on display on stage; a personalized reflection that lent further fire to the blood of both men as the awareness of similarity began to seep in.
Back onstage, the pace and charge had altered - changed as the Dom began to lay his claim.
Again the harsh grip landed, the Dom’s hand on his sub’s face - only this time he turned the man’s head until his face was pressed against the Dom’s groin. Pressing him in, holding the sub still; the Dom arched and circled his hips against the sub’s cheek, his lips. Fingers tangled in the kneeling man’s hair; he was caught, held, owned - his world was leather and heat, scent and hard flesh hidden from view - hidden from taste.
Whether it was the scene, the knowledge of others - untold numbers of others watching, the sub was unable to reason the cause but when he couldn’t control his panting need for more, the sub desperately reached up - twisting around as he grabbed at his Dom’s hips, mouth opening to lick at the ridge of hardened flesh outlined in black. The weight of the decision hitting his mind a moment after his actions. It was a transgression his Dom would not abide, a break in form that had to be reprimanded.
If control of self was beyond his sub’s ability, then that freedom of control would be removed as an option of choice.
Quick enough to have Michael gasping, the Dom advanced. He pushed his sub down, thrusting him onto his stomach where the Dom pulled the other man’s arms behind his back. Detaching the stick from his belt, the Dom attached the sub’s cuffed wrists - one to each end, immobilizing further attempts to touch. The sub clutched his fists, arching into the black velvet beneath him as he savored the restraint of his position. He moaned as his Dom lifted him forcefully back up onto his knees, pulling him back as the Dom knelt behind him. Encased by strong arms holding him against his Dom’s body, the sub panted with quick needful breaths as he was caught fast in the anticipation of what could come next.
Whatever his Dom chose that to be….
Brian could feel the tension in Michael, the tightness of his body against his own. Michael was shaking with it, with almost the same anticipation as the sub onstage. Locked into the scene, waiting for more. Smiling, Brian nuzzled against Michael’s ear and down his neck - kissing the smooth skin at the base of Michael’s throat, breathing in his scent even as he felt the throb of Michael’s pulse against his lips.
A pulse that jumped when the Dom broke his silence, his voice filling the room - accentuated by the microphone hidden in his mask.
“Whom do you serve?” His words rasped over his sub’s sensitized skin, chorused by the tightening of his arms across the other’s body.
Breathless, but sure, the sub answered, “You, Sir. I serve you.”
Continuing, the Dom demanded, “And what is mine?”
“If it please, Sir. I am.”
The Dom raked his hands down the sub’s body from chest to thighs, until they framed the man’s desire. “It does please me.” He reached up with his left arm, pressing the man against him until the sub was immobile. “However, you still have much to learn.” The Dom closed the distance then, taking the sub’s hard length into his hand with a grip harsh enough to have the sub crying out. “You lack restraint. You lack control. You will give me your control. You will give it to me, even as you fight to lose it.” Stroking his sub’s flesh with a quick jerk, the Dom ordered, “Your control is your gift. Say it.”
Struggling to speak past his lust clouded senses, the sub moaned, “My control is my gift, Sir.”
“Show me.”
Two words, sharp and hard. Followed instantly upon by the Dom as he arched into the sub’s body, driving the other man’s hips up and the sub’s cock into the circle of his hand. Action as instruction, as command.
Enflamed by the allowance, the sub was eager to comply. Keeping his head back, the line of his throat bared to view and to the random touch and taste of his Dom’s mouth - the sub worked himself into the bliss of his Dom’s fist. Arching forward, his body served as an alter to vice as he bowed and thrust towards the source of all his pleasure. He glistened under the scarlet lights, wet with sweat as he continued to fuck himself into and through his Dom’s fingers.
Michael jerked at the touch of a hand on his skin, realizing it was Brian at his back. His friend had a hand under Michael’s shirt, slowly drawing the material up as he trailed his fingers over Michael’s chest. Panting a bit at the impact of what he was watching and how he was feeling all seared through his blood, Michael arched backwards into the line of Brian’s body; his eyes blinking before half closing at the feel of the harden ridge against his ass. The evidence was clear that Brian, like Michael, was riding the wave of lust from the stage.
Twins in need, the sub and Michael moaned as the men at their backs laid a claiming grip at their breasts. A twist, a pull, a roll of nipples in tandem to the scorching press of lips against their necks. The sub whimpered as he jerked under the pressure of his Dom’s teeth as they bit into his shoulder, the pain a welcomed addition to the pleasure he was being allowed. Michael curled into the sharp touch, murmuring Brian’s name even as he was prevented from turning to question the touch - still held tight, subject to Brian’s play. When Brian followed suit with the unfolding plot and bit into Michael’s skin, gently but with intent to mark - Michael caught his breath, clutching at Brian’s hand as their still-entwined fingers curled into a fist.
And then Brian’s voice in his ear, breathless but insistent. “Watch them.” As he spoke, he was moving into the press and presence of Michael’s body, answering Michael’s unconscious movements as they echoed those onstage. Both of them were caught in the moment, Brian more aware of consequence than Michael by the nature of his jaded experience - but still becoming lost in the view, in the way it was affecting Michael and in the way Michael felt against him. So close…. “So close he’s about to lose it, so close he’s about to come. You can almost feel it.” He lowered their clasped hands until the line of Michael’s arm and leather clad wrist were pressed dangerously close to Michael’s groin. An inch more and then….
Michael tried to bite back a cry, the sound ending on a moan as he felt his arm being pressed against his trapped hard-on. Brian held it there, arching into him with circling hips - driving Michael into and against the hard cuff at his wrist. Hot words, “Feel it,” burned through his brain - Brian’s voice calling him to follow. It wasn’t even Brian’s touch against him; it was his own - albeit by Brian’s command, but it was more than Michael could stand in the rush.
Michael’s eyes snapped open, sighted dead ahead as a sharp cry split through the fire of his awareness.
“PLEASE!” The sub’s plea, his desperation clear. He was being held on the edge, his Dom’s grip tight - preventing him from moving, from reaching his end. Struggling against his bound hands, against the imprisoning band of his Dom’s arm holding him immobilized and against the screaming of his own body - he groaned with frustration, until with cry he folded back - his violence spent as he lie against his Dom in submission, awaiting either mercy or the lack of from the man to whom he’d given himself.
Again, the Dom’s voice resonated - the sound tickling over the occupants of the room, almost tangible as it touched them from a distance. “Beg me properly. Beg me true.”
A pause, a moment as the sub tried to think past the torrent of his blood - the chaos of his pounding heart. As he fought to breathe, even as he drowned in his need. “Ahhhhh….” He groaned and jerked as his Dom squeezed tighter, fingers slick but merciless in their control. “Si… Sir, please. Please let me.” Near to tears, he could only manage but a few more words - husky and almost gruff, “If it please you, Sir. Please.”
The clutch of Michael’s fingers was a pain Brian bore in gladness; each word from the sub onstage having caused Michael to shake all the more. Waiting in the scant moment between the question and its answer, Brian pressed still harder down on Michael’s arm, still tighter into the warmth and curves of Michael’s ass - stimulating them both even as they stumbled along the edge. Their pleasure held at the brink, controlled by the Dom’s will as surely as the man controlled his sub’s own.
Distracted from intention, Michael was beyond the ability to care about aftermath and worry. His mind held by one thought, one plea - it screamed the same, ‘Please,’ the sub had whispered. Too much, not enough. He was weak with it, needful in a way that was more primal than he’d known. The want was almost more than he could….
“Do it. Do it now!” Rough, thick and powerful - the words echoed. The Dom’s answer given, his permission gained.
A cry sounded; the sub thrashing forward as he rode the fist that housed him. He dissolved into the bliss of yes, the freedom to know the end that was everything as his body jerked and spilled hot for all to see.
Shocked as it came, hit full on by his own response - Michael shuddered and fell. Legs unable to stand, he collapsed back into Brian - crying aloud in kind to the call from the stage as he too was lost and found in a moment of fire. Singed by the heat of it, he couldn’t see past the force of his climax - white hot and harsh as it came.
Brian caught him before Michael could fall, the urgency to hold and protect delaying his own bringing. Turning them quickly, he leaned his friend against the draped wall and hugged him close as Michael rode the last of it.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Michael buried his face against Brian’s chest and tried not to think around the havoc of his pleasure-charged senses. He wanted to hide away from the knowledge of what had happened. Feeling embarrassed, yet energized. He was shell-shocked and questioning, but wary of the answers that might come. Shivering despite the warmth of Brian’s embrace, Michael tried not to cringe at the sensation of moisture at his groin. And at how he must look now – rumpled, sweaty and hiding.
As Michael shifted, Brian groaned softly – still hard, still wanting. He threaded his fingers through the dark silk of Michael’s hair, pulling Michael’s face up. Fuck, the way Michael looked at him when at last he opened his eyes. Even in the low light of the room, the red spotlight glinted off the darkness of Michael’s eyes as they shown with emotion. Brian saw the fear, the doubt, a little bit of hope and a need so strong it was beautiful.
It was expression that called to him; one Brian wanted to harbor as his blood begged for more.
He watched as Michael opened his mouth to speak; the beginning of Brian’s name on the air until suddenly Brian stopped Michael’s lips with his own. Full, soft lips parting for him – Michael opening so Brian could take the taste of him on his tongue, feeling him with his mouth until both men were breathless and clutching each other close.
Breaking their kiss, Brian sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled Michael’s hand between them – letting him feel the hard length still trapped within the tight brown leather. He watched, eyes drawn down as Michael unconsciously licked his lips before curling his palm against Brian. At the touch, Brian whispered Michael’s name. They both understood the importance of the moment. It was clear as their gazes locked and they moved in to kiss again. Close, so near to having it all….
Until with a blinding flash, the moment broke as the lights in the room were brought up to full glare – lending Michael his first look at what was around them. At who was around them…. Dozens of men sprawled in every corner; on the floor, on sofas and chairs. They were everywhere, a mass of bodies. And all of them were as caught up in what they’d seen as both Michael and Brian had been. Well on the way to becoming an orgy.
And more than enough to have Michael pulling back from Brian’s touch; enough to have him ready to run from the promise of only a moment before. He would not, could not share with Brian and have it happen like this. It wasn’t a game he was willing to play.
Michael pushed out of Brian’s arms, eyes searching out the exit even as he was jerked back as Brian caught him against his chest. “Brian, I can’t. I….”
Brian silenced him, “Easy, Mikey. Easy.” He hugged him, feeling the man’s need to escape through the nervous energy he was projecting. “It’s okay. We’ll just go down and have a drink.” He hadn’t meant to let things go so far, but he wouldn’t deny how it had affected him – having Michael come apart in his arms was something he’d have imbedded in his brain forever, he knew. But above his own racing pulse and the bulge of his hard-on, Brian wanted one thing more than his own satisfaction. “Stay, Mikey. Just stay….”
Locked into wildly varying emotions, which ran from his deep desire to have more of what they’d shared to his increasing sense of awkwardness at having had all this play out in front of others, Michael found safety in the stubbornness of his anger. He couldn’t help but feel he was being placated by the very man who had caused his sense of turmoil. Michael refused to question if it was pity on Brian’s part; he didn’t want to know the answer if it was. All he could manage in the that moment was a small shake of his head, words failing - and a silent prayer that he would be allowed the space he needed to process it all.
With great reluctance, Brian eased his grip on Michael until their only connection was his hand curled around the leather at his friend’s wrist. Brian trailed a long touch through Michael’s hair and down his neck with his free hand, speaking through his disappointment as he broke contact following two words, “Always, Michael.”
A last look at Brian, a nod, and Michael walked out of the room - the weight of Brian’s eyes on him the entire way.
tbc... in Part 2.
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