![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Welcome to your Monday, but don't fret - it's time for PART 4!!! And time to meet two new, incredibly addictive (or so I've been told) men along the way.
If you want a preview of the "looks" that inspired them, go here:
http://www.qaf-fic.com/xof/pics/pics.html
(((Thuddddddddddddd...sigh, yummy.)))
Title: “Encompassed…” - Part 4
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17 (Very, very….lol)
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: First Time, Drama, Angst
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do…. My two OMC’s are mine, even though Alexis would like it very much if I’d allow them to visit her house…lol.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 11 parts. (over 126 pages total)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
Summary: An exploration of Michael’s submissive nature, and Brian’s resulting claim. With a little help from two new friends….
Timeline: Set after the finale of Season Two, varying irrevocably onward from there.
Pairing Note: This is very much a Brian/Michael story. However, I have created two original characters based on (and only on) the physical appearance of the actors Aidan Gillen and Craig Kelly. My OMC’s are not meant to represent the actual actors or any of their onscreen roles.
Notes: This baby took 8 months to write, and is in fact my 50th posted story. Its length and those facts are all milestones for me, so I hope you enjoy. It drove me crazy, it wore me down and built me back up again. Tremendous gratitude to Alexis for being there through its creation, always encouraging and giving her two cents - and for the fabulous beta and preface. Thanks to Mistress Teri, for letting me pick her head and helping me round out the concept at the beginning. And to the ladies who had a very small peek early on, hope you like the end result, hugs.
Additional Notes: To be found at the end of the fic. Will include links to name origins, and to pictures I found inspiring - including clothing and toys.
Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission, and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play. There is no S/M activity between Brian and Michael, which means no PAIN. There is one scene in part one that does touch on S/M, but it’s built off of a scene shown in canon - nothing too heavy at all. Our boys only act as witnesses to it. So I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they rediscover each other, and themselves, in this new way.
- - - - - - -
Part 4
- - - - - - -
Turning the ignition off, Brian looked over at Michael. He was gazing out the Jeep window at the three story brownstone they’d stopped in front of with curiosity. Brian grinned, “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”
Michael had managed not to ask Brian anything about where they were going, or why. He’d focused instead on the extraordinary experience of having Brian touch him as he drove; tiny touches both intimate and teasing, meant to connect and distract Michael from over-thinking things the way he usually did. At one point, Brian had even chuckled as Michael had given a sheepish smile because it was one of those moments when it was evident without a word being said between them that Michael was giving in to his worrying nature. Of course, a quick kiss from Brian at the next red light had driven the tendency away rather well….
Eyes shining with affection, with humor, Michael answered. “I didn’t want to sound like my mother.“ When Brian burst out laughing, Michael smiled. “Besides, I figured asking was against the rules.”
Shaking his head, Brian smirked, “A wise ass and a smart-aleck….” He leaned over and brushed a kiss over Michael’s lips, then said warmly, “I’d say keep it up, but given your mood there’s no telling what you’ll say back.” He put a finger over Michael’s lips, brushing the tip softly from side to side as he looked into Michael’s dark eyes. “As for rules, there’s only one for today. Be honest about what you want.”
Michael nodded, a serious look crossing his face. It would have been obvious to say that what he wanted most was Brian, but considering the boundaries they’d been testing or letting fall away, he knew to take Brian’s words as more than their face value.
Taking a deep breath, Brian opened his door and stepped out of the Jeep. He waited for Michael to join him on the stoop of the townhouse, then walked up the stairs with his arm over Michael’s shoulders. Pushing the intercom button with more sense of security than he was really feeling, because yes even Brian Kinney could question the outcome of his own choices - Brian raised his chin and drew Michael closer to his side as the seconds passed.
The electric buzz sounded, followed by a male voice. Breathy as if speaking in a rush, low and accented it came. “Yes, hello. Is that Mr. Kinney?”
Brian answered, “Yeah, sorry we’re late.”
A playful tisking sounded over the system, followed by a laughing, “One slap on the arse for every ten minutes gone, Mr. Kinney - should it ever happen again.” There was a noise in the background, someone talking it seemed, but nothing legible to the two on the stairs until the voice said, “I am not keeping anyone, so hush.” A soft chuckle, then more. “Okay, okay. Holding my tongue, I promise.” Back to them, he said, “Alright, boys. Come on in. I’ll be down in a tick.”
Throwing Michael a quick glance, Brian grinned at the raised brow Michael gave him as the door buzzed open. With a teasing shove - one to the other and back, they followed each after the other over the threshold and inside.
They entered an open room, coat rack to one side with a seating area and a small elegant desk to the right. Hardwood floors, with throw rugs of rich blue that matched the carpeted stairs set directly opposite the doorway, leading up to the higher levels. The room in which they stood was warm looking, but clearly a reception area for a business. A mix of silver accents and light fixtures, and royal blues set against the darkness of the wood and the white of the walls. There were wooden doors on the right, stained richly to match the floors, closed but most probably the main office. On the wall next to the office was a silver plaque that announced it belonged to, “Dr. Declan Rai, Psychiatric Therapist.”
Seeing the sign, Brian was curious as to why there hadn’t been one on the outside of the building. There was nothing to denote the office’s existence from the street. But then he remembered he’d been told that Declan Rai’s client list was all by private recommendation.
“Brian?” Michael’s tone was confused, and Brian turned to look at him as Michael stared at the sign with a fallen expression. The humor totally fled in the wake of what it could mean that Brian had brought him to this place. Now, after all that had passed. It struck Brian that Michael, with his esteem issues and innate doubts, was quickly drawing the wrong conclusions.
“Mikey, no. It’s not what you think.” Brian hugged Michael close, kissing him softly. He didn’t want Michael to think anything was wrong, or that Brian was judging him by being here. When in fact it was the opposite…. “Trust me, okay. This is for both of us.” He would have gone on, would have said more but was interrupted by the sound of someone coming down the stairs.
“Lo, look at you two. Very nice.”
Michael and Brian turned to see the new occupant of the room as he stopped midway between the first and second levels. Leaning over the rail, his arms folded as he bent at the waist to get a better view - the man was smiling with appreciation down at them. Enjoyment shined from his eyes and the curve of his lips. He had brown hair, dark and cut in layers with bangs sweeping his forehead, the ends framing his face and the beginning of his collar. Wearing a bronzed brown shirt, long sleeved with black trousers - he was slim, tan and gorgeous, with a warmth of personality that radiated from him even at a distance.
He rose and stepped down to join them, a hand readily held out to both in turn as he introduced himself, “Ashton. Ashton Forster. The assistant. A pleasure….”
Caught in the firm grip of the man’s hand, Brian nodded as Michael took up the intros with a personable smile that didn’t have to be worked or faked - either for his job or for tricking, as was Brian’s specialty. He watched as Ashton shook Michael’s hand, cupping it in both of his as they finished the shake. And the thought came, looking at them, that both men were alike in that they were welcome personified. Never met a stranger, as some would say.
“You’re English,” Michael seemed delighted, causing Ashton‘s smile to grow. Then embarrassed, he cleared his throat before regrouping, “I’m Michael. Michael Novotny. This is Brian Kinney.” Michael’s voice was strong, the earlier moment’s hesitance gone in the face of meeting Ashton. Gone because he wasn’t going to question Brian in front of a stranger, and gone because meeting Ashton had almost made him forget he’d had a reason to doubt. Maybe it was his easygoing attitude, the openness of his smile. Maybe it was the depth of his blue eyes.
Eyes that crinkled just slightly at the corners as Ashton turned and swept his arm out, “After you both. Dec told me to show you upstairs.” As the three started up, Brian and Michael first with Ashton at their backs, he continued. “Forgive the mess, we’re just off on holiday tomorrow and there’s still so much to do.” The three stopped at the top of the second level, as Ashton opened the door. Looking back just before he turned the knob, Ashton whispered conspiratorially, “There should be a gay packers union, don‘t you think. But then someone would want to call it the ‘Meat Packer’s 101,’ and that would just be a good idea ruined by bad taste.”
Leaving Brian and Michael bursting out with laughter at his back, Ashton opened the door and walked inside. “Dec, they’ve come.”
Again throwing his arm around Michael’s shoulders, Brian led them through the door where they both stopped and looked around with wide eyes. Michael voiced what Brian was too jaded to say, “Wow.”
They were standing in what was obviously a home, designed in loft style with only the back section divided by a half wall that framed off what must be the bedroom and bath. It was all open space - very familiar, and yet not at the same time. Because unlike Brian’s style and minimalism, the design here spoke to comfort, history and home, home, home. Oh, and color, color, color. All of which were deep and rich, like burgundies, cinnamons, hunter greens and sapphire blues. Again, hardwood floors but with plush furniture and pillows all around. The kitchen was stocked full and was done in cherry wood with custom ceramic tile counter tops, and black appliances. The living room area was centered around a curved fireplace of small red bricks done in a star burst design, brown leather sofas and upholstered mismatched chairs placed over a half dozen throws covering the floor. The sum total effect was a mix of gypsy charm with harem chic sensuality. Eccentric, exotic and visually stunning.
Speaking of exotic and visually stunning….
“Wow, wow,” Brian murmured as they were joined by another as Declan Rai stepped out from the bedroom.
Sauntering towards them - because no one on earth could call that walk, well, just a walk - was a man that Brian had not expected. Though what he’d expected, really - he couldn’t say. But the image of a psychiatrist with specialty in dealing with his and Michael’s situation, didn’t fit with Declan Rai. Slender, petite even, but sensual in a way that spoke of grace - he was a surprise.
Declan was wearing dark charcoal gray trousers tailored to a custom fit, topped by a china red silk blend sweater that hugged the line of his shoulders and fell to his hips. Jet black curls swept back from his face; the man’s hair fell thick and full to his shoulders in styled perfection. The only way Brian could think to describe Declan’s face was mischievous pixie, almost delicate features maximized by the sharp intelligence of the man’s dark blue eyes and the amused upturn of his lips.
Stopping in front of the three men, Declan shook Michael’s hand then Brian’s as Ashton introduced them all. “Tall and gorgeous here, is Brian. And this one, all dark and adorable, is his Michael.” Brian chuckled as Michael blushed, while Declan shook his head with affectionate exasperation. Ashton circled around to stand at Declan’s back, grinning as he added, “Gentlemen, meet Dr. Declan Rai.”
Throwing Ashton a look over his shoulder, Declan admonished gently, “Pull it back into the box.” Lilting, and as surprising as the man who spoke, Declan’s voice sounded again. “Ash, please take Michael and Brian’s coats.” The tone spoke to Ashton’s lack of courtesy at not having done so before being reminded. Turning back as Ashton did as told, Declan smiled. “Forgive him, we’re having an informal Friday but that doesn’t mean office decorum should go unobserved with new guests.” One look at Michael’s expression, and his smiled turned into a grin. “Irish to his English; it’s the accent right?”
Blushing still further at being caught out, Michael nodded.
Amused at Michael’s reaction, Brian rubbed the back of the shorter man’s neck playfully as he addressed Declan. “Thank you, Dr. Rai. For agreeing to see us.”
“Declan, please. And it’s not a problem, you can trust.” Indicating they should follow him, he led the two to sit in front of the fire as he took a chair opposite them. “Ash, we’ll be awhile.”
Heading for the door, Ashton called out, “Which is code for haul arse. We ‘vant to be alone.’”
Snorting in response, Declan mused, “His Garbo needs improvement, but as assistants go, he out-cutes the competition.” A beat, and his expression changed to one of calm assurance as the seconds passed with no one saying anything. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Let me explain first, that this isn’t a formal visit. I hope you should both feel more at ease to speak knowing there is no judgment or diagnosis being served up at the end of our talk. This conversation is solely to provide you both with options, choices you may make at a time when things may seem scattered.
“To start, I am a physiatrist in private practice. My clients are limited in number, because I find concentrating on quality of service rather than quantity is a benefit to my work and their progress. I specialize in dealing with aspects of human sexuality. That’s my professional identity. Privately, I hold a more broadened view than most of society on what is considered the sexual norm. To be blunt, I have been for many years a proponent and player in the BDSM subculture. I am a sexual Dominant, and am considered highly proficient in my field. It affords me a standing in the community that I take pride in; that I value. But it also affords a greater sense of accountability when mixed with my professional concerns.
“To many, this sort of play is considered only a momentary flirtation with kink - something to spice up a Saturday night, let‘s say. To others, it becomes a way of life. Some people feel it to be shameful, while others consider it the greatest form of freedom and self-expression. The views are as differing as those on homosexuality. And in many ways, they parallel.
“It is said that with great power comes great responsibility. It is a truth I live by, both in my work and on the scene. Which is why on occasion, I offer my services as guide to those seeking help in broadening their sexual and emotion growth through experimentation. I’ve seen too many people become lost due to their lack of knowledge, ill-considered choices or by falling victim to the wrong players. This is not the sort of play in which it is wise to let others learn by their mistakes. To use an analogy, it is better to be led into the light rather than left to be dragged through darkness.”
Head rush of words and the blaring roar of no, no, no, no all filled Michael’s mind as Declan talked, until he was stiff and so so still. Finally, it was too much and Michael turned to Brian with angry eyes. “You told him? You told him and now, what?” Brian tried to take his hand, but Michael shoved the touch away as his hurt slammed through him, evident in his voice as he whisper hissed, “All these years, and now - after only once, you’re giving me away? Trying to pass me off, after just… Like I wasn‘t….” He couldn’t even finish, desperate to leave, to run from the pain as fury took over. Michael tried to bolt up from the sofa, only to have Brian grab him but Michael still struggled as he was brought into Brian’s arms, onto the larger man’s lap - held from escaping as Brian tried to break through Michael’s misconstrued ideas.
Rarely in their years as friends, had Brian ever seen Michael so furious. He held on tight as Michael cursed and fought his hold, all the while cradling him into his body so Michael couldn’t hurt either of them. “Mikey! Michael, stop. Listen to me, listen!” Pulling Michael to him, he said, “I’m not passing you off, never. Not with you.” When Michael stopped struggling, Brian pulled his head back with a hand in Michael’s hair and asked, “Where do you belong?” He kissed Michael, soft but firm - a touch they’d shared before. “Remember, Mikey. Where?”
Shaken, breathing hard even as the fight flowed out of him with Brian’s kiss - Michael’s eyes rose and fell from Brian’s eyes to his mouth, and back again. Slowly he raised his hand, now free from Brian’s grasp, and touched his fingers to Brian’s full lips. His voice and fingers shook as he repeated the answer that had been given to him by Brian within the year past, “There, that‘s where.”
Brian nodded, gentling a kiss against their touch and said, “Always.” When Michael darted a glance at their host, then back - with sorry on his lips, Brian shushed him with another kind of kiss. Stealing his breath, even as he breathed patience and strength back in turn. After a moment of melting, he drew back at Michael’s moan - touching foreheads as they both recovered.
“Beautiful.” Declan’s voice broke through the silence, causing both men to turn their eyes his way. The display hadn’t phased him in the slightest; if anything, it had put Declan more at ease as he sat comfortably back in his chair with his legs crossed. He was smiling, looking pleased by what he’d seen. “The two of you together, it’s beautiful.” There was no condescension in his words, only admiration and truth in his voice.
He continued gently, “Michael, you’re not here for me to take you over. I’m here to help you both, together. To guide you both, should we all agree that’s where you want to go.” Looking at Brian, he asked, “What brought you here today? What happened?”
And so Brian, the man who only ever shared his emotions with others reluctantly, started the story. He stuck to the bare facts, leaving unquestioned motivations behind as he explained a little of their history. Stalling out on occasion, he lost the words to continue once or twice only to have Michael take up quickly after as the events of Dominion were told.
“He…. In the bar, he…. He claimed me, to save me from Dylan.” Michael’s voice fell, just as his eyes did. Story over.
But for Brian, that wasn’t the end at all. “I claimed you because I wanted you. I took you to my bed because I wanted you. Because you’re mine, and I should have years ago.” He met Michael’s quickly raised eyes. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Michael flushed, but managed not to drop his eyes under the weight of Brian’s stare. He admitted softly, “I scared myself, too. I’m sorry.”
Declan was leaning forward now, watching their expressions closely, enmeshed in their tale. “How long have the two of you known each other?”
Brian answered, “Since we were fourteen. Best friends, and now….more.”
Arching an eyebrow, Declan mused, “And you’ve never…. Before last night?”
Brian laughed; he couldn’t help it when Michael groaned and hid his face in the curve of Brian’s neck. Clearing his throat, Brian answered with more chagrin than folks would have excepted coming from him. “Close, very close. More than once. But no, not before last night.”
Michael lifted his head, a contemplative frown on his face - like he was debating saying something, and then found the courage to do it. Facing Brian, his expression changed to almost a playful bashfulness that was decidedly cute. “Not that counted, anyway. But….” Eyes dropping to Brian’s mouth, he smiled. “You’ve touched me. You kissed me all the time. Drove me nuts forever.”
Grinning back, Brian amended his former answer. “Best friends, with benefits. And now, full coverage.”
Sitting back in the chair with a deliberate slowness, Declan looked at them - his face thoughtful, but uncompromising as his asked. “And how long have you loved him?” He didn’t bother to signify to whom the question was addressed; both men were equally in his sight. It was a crafted moment, a push to see who of the two it struck the most intimately. To see who would answer first, and how.
Caught off guard by Declan’s question, Michael didn’t even think before he was repeating the mantra they’d both held as sword and shield against the world - for Brian’s sake, at his bequest as he made his way through his life. “Brian doesn’t do love.”
Silence fell like a hammer as Michael realized what he’d said…. And how it didn’t hold as an explanation, because as always when dealing with him and Brian, they were just words. Words that only held the power the listener afforded them.
For Brian, hearing them as he had so often whether from his own mouth or Michael’s, the words had altered - their meaning changed. Too many years of thinking them the best offense, only now to fine they’d been his greatest defense against risk, against loss and against fear. Looking at Michael, knowing that even after what they’d started and what he fully intended to continue - his friend was willing to lend him back his own excuse gave him the strength to speak another reminder. A higher truth….
“The book and verse of love and relationships according to me…. With one exception.” He was looking at Declan, staring him down as he ran a hand up Michael’s neck and through his hair. “Always.“ Again, it was a claim - a stake made in a bigger stand. Feeling Michael shiver from enjoyment of his touch, Brian saw Declan incline his chin - saw in the man’s face that a limit had been acknowledge and agreed to….
Not that it stopped Declan from digging for more.
Soothing a hand down the line of his thigh, Declan switched his focus to Michael. Michael who was sitting still over Brian’s lap with his eyes closed, lost in Brian’s caress. Silently, Declan rose and crossed to stand in front of them. “Michael.” He waited for a moment, watching with a small smile as Michael looked up at him in surprise. “Give me your right hand.” Holding out his own, the gesture similar to an invitation to dance, he waited as Michael complied.
Holding Michael’s hand in his, Declan focused his eyes on it even as he spoke to both men. “Being a good Dominant requires talent; skills developed over time and with experience.” He ran a finger over the back of Michael’s hand. “One key to success is having a strong eye for observation.” With a push, he moved his left hand quickly up Michael’s arm, drawing the sleeve up until he’d exposed the damage to view - the bruising as glaring in firelight as it had been at Brian’s the night before…. Holding Michael’s arm when he tried to pull away, Declan fixed his eyes on him - brown to blue. “This, Michael. Was this about love for you?”
“No!” Michael shook his head, only to be stilled by Brian’s grip.
Declan continued, “Not love, then what need did it serve? Sex?”
Frowning, Michael started to say yes, then realized it was, “no.” The word a whisper….
“Did you get what you wanted? Did you find your answer in what he did?” It was evident in his voice and by the play of Declan’s fingers over his wrist, that it wasn’t Brian that Declan was addressing.
“No, no I didn’t.” Voice still small, a little lost.
Raising his hand again, Declan eased a touch through Michael’s hair until he was cupping Brian’s hand with his own. “And here? There’s a question here. It’s inside you just waiting to be unlocked.” Glancing back and forth with purpose from one to the other, Declan continued. “Beyond love, beyond sex - what is the key? We’re here to discover what it is you want, what it is you need.” Stepping back, he asked simply, “Shall we begin?”
- - - - - - -
“I feel like I’m in high school again, being pop quizzed.” Michael’s nervous words harkened a rousing bout of laughter as Ashton escorted him into the door of the building’s third level. It was spacious, cluttered and extremely well lit from above by a series of sky lights. An artist’s studio. One that most would kill for….
Closing the door behind them, Ashton joined Michael on a sofa in the far corner. He laid the folder he’d been carrying on the cushion between them. “Except with this, you’re at an advantage. Because who would know the answers to the quiz better than the man the quiz is about? It’s not like you can fail when it’s you, you’re discussing.”
Michael gave a small snort, “Says you….” Even he had to laugh at how juvenile it sounded, but he was trying not to think too much on what they were about to do. Looking around, Michael took in the layout of the studio. The main makeup of the space was devoted to sculpting; marbles of various shapes and colors were shelved against one wall, or on the floor depending on size and girth. There were a few works in progress set up on stands and tables all around, each with a drape covering them from Michael’s curious eyes. There were a couple of podiums set up with finished statues, miniatures of larger versions it seemed. The artist obviously worked in more than one medium, considering the wood carving and clay wheel workspaces set up in separate corners of the room. Though again, most of the examples were covered from view. But of all the mediums being used, it was the fourth workspace that stood out from the rest….
Close to where they sat, there was a photography workshop - complete with wall and floor mats, lighting equipments, backdrops stored to one side and a series of cameras neatly housed in a storage cabinet. Some of them looked like antiques, some looked expensive and were of the latest design. And unlike the rest of the room, this space was the neatest and the most orderly of them all. Almost like it belonged to a different person than the others.
“Who’s the artist?” Michael asked.
Smiling, Ashton did a mock bow of his head as he answered, “I sculpt and carve a bit. Dec’s the artist; he and his all seeing eyes.”
Michael shook his head, throwing a glance around the room again - and all the covered works in progress. “A bit?”
Smiling with a gleam in his eye, Ashton inclined his head in agreement. “A bit, yes. But only for a select audience. Private commissions and the like.” Leaning back, one arm resting along the top of the sofa - he relaxed back and tapped the folder still resting between them. “There’s no reason to be nervous, Michael. It’s just a survey, really. Gauging your likes, dislikes - your limits. The only thing you need to do, is answer with what’s in your heart. Tell the truth. Just remember, this is about you, not anyone else’s expectations of you. Agreed?”
Taking a deep breath, Michael agreed. “All right.”
- - - - - - -
“Let’s talk about one of your favorite subjects.”
Brian arched his brow and shot Declan a look that said he was more than aware that they were on the same page. “Let me guess, myself.” It wasn’t a question.
Declan pursed his bottom lip for a moment as he fought not to grin, then replied, “Even better. Sex. And you.” They were both sitting, relaxed - easy with the topic. Not a nerve in sight. “We need to gauge your limits, test your boundaries - your experience.” He let out a laugh at the incredulous look on Brian’s face. “Not that I think you lack experience, or have many more boundaries to be breached. If I hadn’t heard an ear full from Gregory when he called, I would have still known you by your reputation. The name Brian Kinney has graced my ears on occasion since moving to Pittsburgh a couple years back. A king amongst commoners, as it were.”
His eyes reflecting the confidence he was known for, if not a mild case of self-satisfaction - Brian mused, “And why is it that I’ve never heard of you? You don’t strike me as the reclusive type, Declan.”
“We operate in different circles, would be the most succinct response. Though given what I can guess is your taste in entertainment, I’d say it is surprising that we’ve not met before now.”
Chuckling, Brian replied. “Serendipity, then.”
A nod in agreement, Declan said, “As you say. But you seem more like a man who doesn‘t believe in fate.”
“I believe the world is what you make of it.”
“Yes. By being a man who takes control, and rules his own heart.” A beat, and then…. “Until one man slips in and changes the game.”
Silence. Brian sat looking at Declan, no response given. Why say anything when the absence said it all.
- - - - - - -
Michael threw his head back, sighing as he tried to think through the twilight zone he’d found himself in. They’d been talking for almost an hour, and he’d found himself thinking more than once that the whole conversation was like a blend of a dozen nights of tricking gossip shared at Woody’s with his friends, of tentatively whispered fantasies shared with a lover and of the nightmarishly embarrassing sex ed heart to hearts with his Mom as a kid. His libido ebbed and flowed through the dizzying spiral of each kink and quirk discussed till he was bemused, chagrined, excited and flushed - as much from embarrassment as he was from anticipation. “Shit, you must think I’m as vanilla as they come.”
Snorting softly, Ashton assured him, “Hardly, Michael. You’ve got a good grasp of what you like, what you need. And you’re self-aware enough to hold to what’s right for you, to know your limits.” Closing the folder, he brought his leg up onto the sofa so he could sit facing Michael. “You don’t have to go to extremes to enjoy the experience; and pain isn’t necessary to find pleasure in the scene. Besides once the boundaries are set, the sky’s the limit on where else you and your partner can go.”
Michael looked at him, taking in Ashton’s gentle smile and the merriment dancing in his eyes. “Voice of experience?”
His smile turning quickly to a grin, Ashton leaned forward - deliberately invading Michael’s body space, only stopping when he was an inch from his face. A whisper, an answer - he murmured in a tease. “That would be telling.” A pause, a moment passing long - and he rose with a laugh, giving Michael his back as he walked away, leaving the other man inhaling an unsteady breath as Michael watched him leave.
- - - - - - -
“Yeah, I’ve played. Comes with the territory, added an edge to the odd night now and again. But it’s never been concentrated, never been long term, never had more than the immediate purpose of getting off.”
“And now with Michael, you feel what? Is it only obligation? Or is it because no one else is allowed to know him more intimately than you?” At Brian’s frown, Declan added, “Submission is deeply intimate, not only in a physical respect but in an emotional one as well. For many it is the closest a person can come to knowing themselves, and in offering that part of themselves to another - they give one of the greatest of gifts.” He waited for moment, letting his words have their full effect before continuing, “Answer the question, Brian. What is it you feel?”
Turning his eyes to the fire, Brian didn’t answer for a long time. But then he found the words. “I’ve always told him that no one is too good for him, that he is better than anyone.” He released a bitter laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Even then I didn’t want anyone getting too close, having him too long. It makes me a bastard, but he has always been and will always be mine.”
Declan’s voice reached him above the crack and hiss of the flames, “I think there’s more to it, more than keeping what was yours. Somewhere in your years together, you decided that it was you that wasn’t good enough for Michael. Afraid to hurt him, afraid to let him go.”
Brian shot a look Declan’s way, anger lacing his words for the first time since he’d met the man. “There is no letting go, he’s here because he wants to be here. And whatever my motives, I have hurt him. Again and again.”
“He’s still with you despite the pain, Brian. And because, past your looks, money and success, he sees you as more than you see yourself.” Pausing, he concluded, “I think there is a part of you that sees him as the measure of your worth.”
Suddenly defensive, Brian snapped, “What’s your angle in all this? You get off on it? The questions, the analyzing, playing with people’s heads and bodies….”
Declan’s calm exterior completely crumbled under Brian’s attempt at deflection. He burst out laughing, giggle-high and gorgeous as he threaded his hand through his hair as it fell in his face. His recovery was quick, granted, but still it was a breaking down of his layers - a glimpse of who he was below the analyst and dom. Straightening up, Declan cleared his throat. “You mean beyond the accomplishment and the reward of helping others. I enjoy it, of course. I’m good at it. And remember, Brian. I’m a dominant; control is what I do.”
Settling back from his anger, Brian asked, “But not who you are?”
Answering with seriousness, Declan said, “I am many things. As are you. But what I am to you today is an opportunity. I can help you, give you the knowledge you need to accept and care for the gift Michael is wanting to share. As for what is my angle, there is none. I’m an analyst, and I’m a scene consultant. It’s a responsibility I take seriously. Having Gregory recommend you was the first step in the door. As a friend, his judgment is something I value. Meeting you both was enough to intrigue me, to convince me to say yes. But the bonus, now that lies in how I believe you’ll progress together. Seeing you both, watching him unfold to your will - it will be a pleasure to witness. Should it be agreed that this is what you both want.”
Back to staring into the fire, “It’s what he says he wants, what he needs.” He had a sudden image of Michael from the night before, a memory of how it had felt to have him giving in, giving over to Brian’s control. To his desires….. “It’s what I want, too.”
- - - - - - -
“Michael.” Lost in thought, Michael didn’t hear his name being called at first. “Michael.” Turning at the sound, Michael smiled bashfully, a sorry already on his lips until Ashton waved it away as unnecessary.
“No worries. Just wanted to tell you I was going to take this down to Dec.” He had Michael’s file in his hand. “Why don’t you stay for a bit; look around if you like. I’ll check to see if they’re finished, then come get you.” At Michael’s nod, Ashton left the room.
Drawing in a steadying breath, Michael rose from the sofa and arched his back. His muscles still ached and the stretch helped ease some of the tension he’d been feeling, physically at least. Emotionally, the tension remained. He was titillated, intrigued - a part of him not wanting to go, even as another part of him just wanted to be with Brian alone. Alone and naked, in bed. But he told himself that patience had its own rewards…. The night before had been full proof of that.
He determined to think on other things as he walked around the room. Skimming a touch over each cloth covered work he passed, Michael smiled as he let chance decide which object to uncover as he went. A game of “Mighty Moe” well played as he lifted the drape off one of the statues resting on a table nearby. “Wow….”
Two hands held bound together, cuffed at the wrists - it was a figure study. The hands rose up, balanced on a wood stand as they lifted up with fingers slightly spread and curled inward like someone holding up their arms in reverence. Lifelike and beautiful, the sculpture held a natural grace that was perfect down to the last detail. Even the hint of veins under the skin shown through. And the cuffs; they were intricate, appearing to bind, to press into the flesh of the wrists they imprisoned.
Glancing down at his hands, Michael pulled his sleeves up and looked at the bruises. Pathetic, the word echoing in his brain. But then he closed his eyes at the almost tangible feel of remembrance…. Brian’s eyes, his touch - the feel of his long fingers and strong hands as they fastened the leather around his wrists. Michael bit his lip and hugged his arms around his waist in lieu of having Brian there to hold.
“fuck….” A murmur, a sigh and Michael opened his eyes. He crossed to the center of the room where a platform had been assembled to hold the latest work in progress. It was a large piece, judging by the size of the tarp. Stepping up to the platform, Michael stopped as the wood pressed into his shins - the height set over a foot off the floor. He pulled the cover off, letting the fabric fall from fingers that suddenly forgot how to grasp anything as they fell open in his awe.
A man, kneeling with his arms behind his back. A slave, naked and hard. His head thrown back, the expression caught - held in that one instant of absolute subjugation and joy. Eyes half closed, mouth partially opened as if gasping in wonder at his own capacity for pleasure - he was…. It was…. Michael didn’t have the words. His eyes traveled over the piece, taking in the four foot tall work that was partially unfinished. The man, his body had been fully realized from head to mid thigh but the rest of it - his legs and feet were as yet undone. It looked as if he were rising from the marble, freedom found in his own enslavement. The sculpted man’s status made plain by the collar at his throat, and the chain carved to flow down his frame as it caressed his chest and fell over the outer curve of one partially completed thigh.
Michael stepped around the platform, mouth going dry as he found what he’d expected. The man’s hands tied behind him, clutched tightly against the slope of his inner back above the beginning crease of his behind. Muscles taut, pulled back and held as the slave accepted all with rapture shining from his face.
Circling back, Michael stood before the work and swallowed past the sudden dryness of his throat. His eyes caught by the man’s face, caught in the need and thankfulness that both shown from inanimate stone. Unable to help himself, Michael lifted his hands to touch - feeling the roughness of the marble, still unbuffed and coarse beneath his fingers. Unaware that even as he touched, he was shaking. His own response rising in him like a wave, he pressed his hands flat - one over the slave’s cheek, one over the chain resting against the man’s chest.
Locked, lost in it - Michael jumped in surprise as hands settled on his shoulders, the heat of someone at his back. Looking away, then up, he saw that it was Brian with Declan at his side.
“Ash is quite the talent, yes?” Declan said fondly.
Looking back to the sculpted slave, Michael gave a small nod. A soft, “yes.” Slowly, with a viable reluctance, Michael removed his hands from its cool surface. He reached up to cup Brian’s hands with his own. Unaware that he was still exposed, his wrists uncovered to view.
Unaware at how even the sight of them had Brian’s face darkening like a storm….
Throwing Declan a look, Brian saw by his expression that the other man understood. Now he just needed to make Michael understand. No one was to touch Michael, to mark him, like that ever again.
Brian nuzzled the back of Michael’s neck, burying his face against the mark he’d given him, finding the barest of impressions still there as the edges were beginning to fade. He could feel Michael’s breathing catch, and it made him smile. It always made him smile. Raising his face for a moment, he saw Declan’s nod and knew instinctively that he was right. It was the perfect time to go further; to finish something he’d asked Declan’s favor to do.
Speaking into Michael’s ear, Brian began. “Picture yourself, Mikey. On your knees for me. Hard for me. Bound for me. Aching for it, for me. For what I can do to you, for you. Open and ready to do whatever I say.” He tightened his grip as he swept an arm across Michael’s chest, holding him from shoulder to shoulder. “See his face; it’s yours. See his naked body, it’s yours. See his dick, hard as stone; it’s yours.” He dropped his free hand to Michael’s groin, cupping the resulting hard-on and massaging it until Michael moaned. “But it’s not yours, is it, Mikey? It’s mine. Your body, your heart, your soul. Mine.” The edge in his voice, the rasp of its sound was evidence of the power Brian’s words had over even his own body and mind. “Say it. Say the words.”
Michael cried out as Brian’s hand continued to drive him crazy, as the words swept over him, sounding through him with the clarity of a known truth. “Yours, ahh. I’m yours.”
Passing his tongue over the curve of Michael’s ear, trailing it down the line of his throat, Brian ordered softly, “Take off your clothes.”
Eyes snapping wide, Michael remembered Declan’s presence and looked over quickly. “Brian….” He wasn’t allowed to get any further.
“I’m not giving you a choice, Mikey. I want to see you naked. Showing me, showing him that you belong to me.” Ending his orders with a last quick squeeze at Michael’s cock and nip at the back of the shorter man’s neck, and Brian pulled back to watch. “Do it. Do it, for me….”
Conscious of the eyes watching him, both those familiar and unknown, Michael closed his eyes as he lifted his shirt. Brian’s shirt…. Slowly drawing it over his head, he let it drop and reached for his jeans with unsteady fingers. He fought not to gasp as his fingers brushed alone the swell of his flesh beneath the zipper; winning against anxiety as he drew the metal teeth down until the sides parted and he was free. A breath of courage and Michael opened his eyes, the slave’s face all that he could see as he pushed the denim down to the floor, then off his feet along with his shoes. Standing there, bared to the room under the rays of sun from the skyline above….
“Good, very good.“ Brian ran his hand down the line of Michael’s back, letting his fingers swept over the smooth soft skin with appreciation and full due. His, his to touch, his to know. To take. It was his first instinct now, to have Michael, to complete the final step. But again he saw the evidence of another’s touch, and it reminded him that his needs were secondary in the here and now. Despite the control to do what he wanted, it was too soon.
Turning to Declan, Brian spoke to sooth Michael’s nerves. “Still. Be still. He‘s going to look at you.”
As Brian stepped back, Declan moved closer. His slender clothed form next to Michael’s nakedness as his eyes traveled. He didn’t attempt to touch. It had been agreed before hand that there would be no touching. Instead, he walked around him and looked - his eyes taking in each fading mark, some darker than others. Shoulder, waist, wrists and back. Most nothing to worry over, a minor nuisance. But for the ones above each hand. They weren’t long term damage; they’d fade with time. But it was the significance of them that had the potential to last.
“What safe word did you choose, Michael?”
Looking up from where he’d dropped his eyes, Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The man from Dominion. Did he discuss safe-wording?” When Michael shook his head, Declan continued, “It’s the first principle of playing a scene. Setting limits, agreeing on a safe-word - they are fundamental necessities, Michael. To play without them, to give up their protection is risking more than the game is worth.”
Michael didn’t look away, though he wanted to, he couldn’t turn from the other man’s eyes. Somehow the expression there gave him comfort enough not to listen to the voice in his head; for the moment leaving “pathetic” behind. Not that such a thought could hold anyway as he felt Brian again at his back, pressing close as he began running his hands up Michael’s arms, then down his sides to hold him by his hips. Just the feel of him so close had Michael hardening again; a condition that increased the flush of his skin as he remained under Declan’s watchful gaze.
Declan nodded in appreciation, eyes sparking with a darker blue as he enjoyed the view. “He’s hungry for you, Brian.” Meeting Brian’s intense look with a mild dip of his head, he then looked at Michael through the veil of his lashes. “Have you fucked him, yet?”
Keeping a steady eye on Declan, even as he paid full notice of Michael’s quickening breath, Brian stroked a hand back over the curve of Michael’s ass. His touch meant to ground, even as it maddened Michael by adding to his arousal. “He was too sore. But soon. Very soon.”
Michael’s eyes fluttered as Brian ran his fingers between his cheeks. He was caught between them, embarrassed by being naked, by being discussed like he wasn’t there - but hotter than he’d thought possible at being on display, being touched by Brian in front of Declan because it was Brian’s will. He didn’t want the other man to touch him, but being under Brian’s hands - the object of their talk…. Damn.
“Brian, I…”
“Shhhh, Michael.” Declan was quick to place two fingers over Michael’s lips, not even making contact - just there to warn, a fraction from closing the distance. “If you begin playing scenes for real, there is no speaking without permission. Your Dom will set the pace, and tell you what to do. Understand?”
Nodding his head, Michael bit his lip to keep from saying yes aloud. Even as Declan stepped back, Michael willed himself not to ask for the more he craved when Brian continued to feel him, hands moving everywhere. Throat, nipples, thighs and even his balls; he was road mapped until he was moving back against Brian’s groin and forward into every touch - Declan’s presence be damned.
“It takes a strength of will to obey. Submission isn’t for the weak, no matter what others may assume.” Moving to the side, he stood as Brian worked Michael’s body. “Michael’s passion is his gift. His faith in you, his trust yours to hold if you accept. Do you accept, Brian?”
Voice thick with desire, Brian took Michael’s length in hand and answered, “Yes.” Stroking him, circling against Michael’s behind as he drove the smaller man into his hand - Brian panted against Michael’s ear, echoing Michael’s whimper with a faint growl.
Declan pushed further, “Then there is a question you must know the answer to; ask him. Ask him before you bring him.”
Pulling Michael’s head back, Brian spoke against the side of his mouth - so close to a kiss, but not. “It’s rising in you, Mikey. My hand’s wet with it you’re so hard, so close.” Circling down, jerking up quick and fast, he was driving Michael to the brink - holding him there as Michael cried out. “I want you to choose, Michael. Empty your mind, and tell me. What is your safe word? Tell me, tell me now.”
A shout, an answer burst forth from Michael as his reason fell and drowned in the storm of coming. Violent, and hard it came upon him - a rush, a jerk and he was blind to all but the roar in his ears and the sensation of satiation as it took over his world.
He came back to Brian’s soft affectionate chuckle, the sound sending tingles down his back. And the words, “Good choice, Mikey. Perfect.” For a moment, Michael didn’t even remember what Brian was talking about until he heard Declan speaking from the left.
“Zephyr. A calming western wind….” Declan smiled. “It is a good choice.” He looked at them, at Michael held in Brian’s embrace - shaken but secured. “Zephyr in the arms of his Rage.” When they both turned their eyes to him in surprise, Declan let out a laugh. “Ash tells me no member of the gay community should be lacking in knowledge of local pop culture. Which is his way of describing town gossip.“ He paused for effect then added with a grin, “That, and you couldn’t walk two feet down Liberty without seeing the posters on every wall and in every window. It’s a good likeness, by the way. Of you both.”
Brian shook his head, still smiling as Declan retrieved a hand towel from the pottery table. His amusement continued as Michael turned his head, hiding his face as the reality of his appearance hit him. Brian accepted the towel, brushing it over Michael’s stomach to clean up the mess he’d helped cause - loving it as Michael groaned and blushed even darker. As he turned into Brian’s hug once the towel was dropped.
“Take your time. I’m going down for a bit. Ash should have lunch ready soon, so you‘re both welcome to join us.” Declan gave Brian a last look, a nod and then he left.
Brian didn’t speak for the longest time, letting Michael process until he broke the silence.
Speaking into the curve of Brian’s throat, Michael murmured, “It feels like I’m standing with you on a ledge for the second time.”
Brian pulled back, framing Michael‘s face with his hands as he responded serious and low. “You trusted me then, not to let you fall.”
Deep, dark - Michael‘s eyes held him. Softly said, “I still do.”
Brian replied with a smile. “I do, too.” He swept Michael’s answering grin away with a kiss, fierce and wet. One that called to his blood, and brought his brain functions back down to the ache in his cock - hard and still trapped inside his jeans.
A condition that Michael was fully aware of as he stole a hand between them and pressed his hand against Brian’s groin. Rocking his palm against Brian’s bulge as he worked his fingers against the outline of his balls, Michael swallowed Brian’s groan until the taller man pulled out of the kiss with a hiss.
“Bad, bad boy.” The delighted amusement belayed the admonishment of Brian‘s words.
Michael looked down, and deliberately pulled Brian‘s jeans open - the well worn buttons popping free with minimal effort. Raising his eyes again, Michael watched Brian‘s face as he teased his fingers through the dark hair he‘d revealed - avoiding the length still hidden by the denim. “I want to touch you.”
Humming in appreciation, both of the tease and of the added edge of Michael’s playful demands, Brian inhaled slowly and grinned back. “Little something to take the edge off?” Dropping his hands to Michael’s ass, he added, “Till I can get this back in my bed.” When Michael’s eyes shut - Brian’s name a whisper, a plea, Brian murmured his consent. “Go ahead, Mikey. Pop it out. Make me come.”
The feel, the heat of Brian in his hand as he watched Brian’s eyes flutter and close. Each stroke, each soft grunt as he worked him faster and faster…. Michael watched, watched in awe that it was his touch doing this, that it was him causing Brian to gasp out, getting closer and closer. That it was his voice tipping Brian over as he harkened to one of his dirtier fantasies and murmured hotly, “On me. Come on me, all over me. Paint me with it. N… Now.”
“Fuck, fuck!” The words cracking, Brian’s shout forced out of him as surely as his seed as it burst forth and coated Michael’s skin. Jerking once, twice and then again into the warmth of Michael’s small hand - Brian’s body expanded and snapped back like a rubber band, the pressure gone in an instant of liquid fire.
Sucking in a breath, Brian opened his eyes and laughed. Laughed and rubbed his forehead against Michael’s, “I love a dirty mind.” He groaned weakly, watching as Michael lifted his wet hand and cleaned it with his tongue. Snatching up the towel, he gave it to Michael to wipe himself down as Brian fastened up his jeans.
Michael couldn’t stop smiling, feeling Brian’s eyes on him as he pulled on his clothes and then bent to put on his shoes. He liked being Brian’s object of desire; the one that put the look of sex in his eyes. It made him feel empowered in a way he’d only guessed at in his dreams.
Brian held out his hand, taking Michael’s in turn. A serious look on his face, he asked, “You okay with all this?” At Michael’s nod, Brian gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go let Declan continue playing Doctor Dom, have a little lunch and then…. Go home for a little dessert.”
Following Brian down the stairs, Michael knew it was going to be the longest meal in history.
tbc - Part 5...
If you want a preview of the "looks" that inspired them, go here:
http://www.qaf-fic.com/xof/pics/pics.html
(((Thuddddddddddddd...sigh, yummy.)))
Title: “Encompassed…” - Part 4
Author: xof
Feedback: xof1013@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17 (Very, very….lol)
Pairing: Brian/Michael, Declan/Ashton (OMC/OMC)
Genre: First Time, Drama, Angst
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, but damn it’s fun imagining I do…. My two OMC’s are mine, even though Alexis would like it very much if I’d allow them to visit her house…lol.
Status: Complete, but will be posted in 11 parts. (over 126 pages total)
Archive: ATP, Always, yes.
Summary: An exploration of Michael’s submissive nature, and Brian’s resulting claim. With a little help from two new friends….
Timeline: Set after the finale of Season Two, varying irrevocably onward from there.
Pairing Note: This is very much a Brian/Michael story. However, I have created two original characters based on (and only on) the physical appearance of the actors Aidan Gillen and Craig Kelly. My OMC’s are not meant to represent the actual actors or any of their onscreen roles.
Notes: This baby took 8 months to write, and is in fact my 50th posted story. Its length and those facts are all milestones for me, so I hope you enjoy. It drove me crazy, it wore me down and built me back up again. Tremendous gratitude to Alexis for being there through its creation, always encouraging and giving her two cents - and for the fabulous beta and preface. Thanks to Mistress Teri, for letting me pick her head and helping me round out the concept at the beginning. And to the ladies who had a very small peek early on, hope you like the end result, hugs.
Additional Notes: To be found at the end of the fic. Will include links to name origins, and to pictures I found inspiring - including clothing and toys.
Warnings: Deals with the subject of Dominance/submission, and bondage. However, it is a story of love and sensual play. There is no S/M activity between Brian and Michael, which means no PAIN. There is one scene in part one that does touch on S/M, but it’s built off of a scene shown in canon - nothing too heavy at all. Our boys only act as witnesses to it. So I encourage readers to take a chance and follow our boys as they rediscover each other, and themselves, in this new way.
- - - - - - -
Part 4
- - - - - - -
Turning the ignition off, Brian looked over at Michael. He was gazing out the Jeep window at the three story brownstone they’d stopped in front of with curiosity. Brian grinned, “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”
Michael had managed not to ask Brian anything about where they were going, or why. He’d focused instead on the extraordinary experience of having Brian touch him as he drove; tiny touches both intimate and teasing, meant to connect and distract Michael from over-thinking things the way he usually did. At one point, Brian had even chuckled as Michael had given a sheepish smile because it was one of those moments when it was evident without a word being said between them that Michael was giving in to his worrying nature. Of course, a quick kiss from Brian at the next red light had driven the tendency away rather well….
Eyes shining with affection, with humor, Michael answered. “I didn’t want to sound like my mother.“ When Brian burst out laughing, Michael smiled. “Besides, I figured asking was against the rules.”
Shaking his head, Brian smirked, “A wise ass and a smart-aleck….” He leaned over and brushed a kiss over Michael’s lips, then said warmly, “I’d say keep it up, but given your mood there’s no telling what you’ll say back.” He put a finger over Michael’s lips, brushing the tip softly from side to side as he looked into Michael’s dark eyes. “As for rules, there’s only one for today. Be honest about what you want.”
Michael nodded, a serious look crossing his face. It would have been obvious to say that what he wanted most was Brian, but considering the boundaries they’d been testing or letting fall away, he knew to take Brian’s words as more than their face value.
Taking a deep breath, Brian opened his door and stepped out of the Jeep. He waited for Michael to join him on the stoop of the townhouse, then walked up the stairs with his arm over Michael’s shoulders. Pushing the intercom button with more sense of security than he was really feeling, because yes even Brian Kinney could question the outcome of his own choices - Brian raised his chin and drew Michael closer to his side as the seconds passed.
The electric buzz sounded, followed by a male voice. Breathy as if speaking in a rush, low and accented it came. “Yes, hello. Is that Mr. Kinney?”
Brian answered, “Yeah, sorry we’re late.”
A playful tisking sounded over the system, followed by a laughing, “One slap on the arse for every ten minutes gone, Mr. Kinney - should it ever happen again.” There was a noise in the background, someone talking it seemed, but nothing legible to the two on the stairs until the voice said, “I am not keeping anyone, so hush.” A soft chuckle, then more. “Okay, okay. Holding my tongue, I promise.” Back to them, he said, “Alright, boys. Come on in. I’ll be down in a tick.”
Throwing Michael a quick glance, Brian grinned at the raised brow Michael gave him as the door buzzed open. With a teasing shove - one to the other and back, they followed each after the other over the threshold and inside.
They entered an open room, coat rack to one side with a seating area and a small elegant desk to the right. Hardwood floors, with throw rugs of rich blue that matched the carpeted stairs set directly opposite the doorway, leading up to the higher levels. The room in which they stood was warm looking, but clearly a reception area for a business. A mix of silver accents and light fixtures, and royal blues set against the darkness of the wood and the white of the walls. There were wooden doors on the right, stained richly to match the floors, closed but most probably the main office. On the wall next to the office was a silver plaque that announced it belonged to, “Dr. Declan Rai, Psychiatric Therapist.”
Seeing the sign, Brian was curious as to why there hadn’t been one on the outside of the building. There was nothing to denote the office’s existence from the street. But then he remembered he’d been told that Declan Rai’s client list was all by private recommendation.
“Brian?” Michael’s tone was confused, and Brian turned to look at him as Michael stared at the sign with a fallen expression. The humor totally fled in the wake of what it could mean that Brian had brought him to this place. Now, after all that had passed. It struck Brian that Michael, with his esteem issues and innate doubts, was quickly drawing the wrong conclusions.
“Mikey, no. It’s not what you think.” Brian hugged Michael close, kissing him softly. He didn’t want Michael to think anything was wrong, or that Brian was judging him by being here. When in fact it was the opposite…. “Trust me, okay. This is for both of us.” He would have gone on, would have said more but was interrupted by the sound of someone coming down the stairs.
“Lo, look at you two. Very nice.”
Michael and Brian turned to see the new occupant of the room as he stopped midway between the first and second levels. Leaning over the rail, his arms folded as he bent at the waist to get a better view - the man was smiling with appreciation down at them. Enjoyment shined from his eyes and the curve of his lips. He had brown hair, dark and cut in layers with bangs sweeping his forehead, the ends framing his face and the beginning of his collar. Wearing a bronzed brown shirt, long sleeved with black trousers - he was slim, tan and gorgeous, with a warmth of personality that radiated from him even at a distance.
He rose and stepped down to join them, a hand readily held out to both in turn as he introduced himself, “Ashton. Ashton Forster. The assistant. A pleasure….”
Caught in the firm grip of the man’s hand, Brian nodded as Michael took up the intros with a personable smile that didn’t have to be worked or faked - either for his job or for tricking, as was Brian’s specialty. He watched as Ashton shook Michael’s hand, cupping it in both of his as they finished the shake. And the thought came, looking at them, that both men were alike in that they were welcome personified. Never met a stranger, as some would say.
“You’re English,” Michael seemed delighted, causing Ashton‘s smile to grow. Then embarrassed, he cleared his throat before regrouping, “I’m Michael. Michael Novotny. This is Brian Kinney.” Michael’s voice was strong, the earlier moment’s hesitance gone in the face of meeting Ashton. Gone because he wasn’t going to question Brian in front of a stranger, and gone because meeting Ashton had almost made him forget he’d had a reason to doubt. Maybe it was his easygoing attitude, the openness of his smile. Maybe it was the depth of his blue eyes.
Eyes that crinkled just slightly at the corners as Ashton turned and swept his arm out, “After you both. Dec told me to show you upstairs.” As the three started up, Brian and Michael first with Ashton at their backs, he continued. “Forgive the mess, we’re just off on holiday tomorrow and there’s still so much to do.” The three stopped at the top of the second level, as Ashton opened the door. Looking back just before he turned the knob, Ashton whispered conspiratorially, “There should be a gay packers union, don‘t you think. But then someone would want to call it the ‘Meat Packer’s 101,’ and that would just be a good idea ruined by bad taste.”
Leaving Brian and Michael bursting out with laughter at his back, Ashton opened the door and walked inside. “Dec, they’ve come.”
Again throwing his arm around Michael’s shoulders, Brian led them through the door where they both stopped and looked around with wide eyes. Michael voiced what Brian was too jaded to say, “Wow.”
They were standing in what was obviously a home, designed in loft style with only the back section divided by a half wall that framed off what must be the bedroom and bath. It was all open space - very familiar, and yet not at the same time. Because unlike Brian’s style and minimalism, the design here spoke to comfort, history and home, home, home. Oh, and color, color, color. All of which were deep and rich, like burgundies, cinnamons, hunter greens and sapphire blues. Again, hardwood floors but with plush furniture and pillows all around. The kitchen was stocked full and was done in cherry wood with custom ceramic tile counter tops, and black appliances. The living room area was centered around a curved fireplace of small red bricks done in a star burst design, brown leather sofas and upholstered mismatched chairs placed over a half dozen throws covering the floor. The sum total effect was a mix of gypsy charm with harem chic sensuality. Eccentric, exotic and visually stunning.
Speaking of exotic and visually stunning….
“Wow, wow,” Brian murmured as they were joined by another as Declan Rai stepped out from the bedroom.
Sauntering towards them - because no one on earth could call that walk, well, just a walk - was a man that Brian had not expected. Though what he’d expected, really - he couldn’t say. But the image of a psychiatrist with specialty in dealing with his and Michael’s situation, didn’t fit with Declan Rai. Slender, petite even, but sensual in a way that spoke of grace - he was a surprise.
Declan was wearing dark charcoal gray trousers tailored to a custom fit, topped by a china red silk blend sweater that hugged the line of his shoulders and fell to his hips. Jet black curls swept back from his face; the man’s hair fell thick and full to his shoulders in styled perfection. The only way Brian could think to describe Declan’s face was mischievous pixie, almost delicate features maximized by the sharp intelligence of the man’s dark blue eyes and the amused upturn of his lips.
Stopping in front of the three men, Declan shook Michael’s hand then Brian’s as Ashton introduced them all. “Tall and gorgeous here, is Brian. And this one, all dark and adorable, is his Michael.” Brian chuckled as Michael blushed, while Declan shook his head with affectionate exasperation. Ashton circled around to stand at Declan’s back, grinning as he added, “Gentlemen, meet Dr. Declan Rai.”
Throwing Ashton a look over his shoulder, Declan admonished gently, “Pull it back into the box.” Lilting, and as surprising as the man who spoke, Declan’s voice sounded again. “Ash, please take Michael and Brian’s coats.” The tone spoke to Ashton’s lack of courtesy at not having done so before being reminded. Turning back as Ashton did as told, Declan smiled. “Forgive him, we’re having an informal Friday but that doesn’t mean office decorum should go unobserved with new guests.” One look at Michael’s expression, and his smiled turned into a grin. “Irish to his English; it’s the accent right?”
Blushing still further at being caught out, Michael nodded.
Amused at Michael’s reaction, Brian rubbed the back of the shorter man’s neck playfully as he addressed Declan. “Thank you, Dr. Rai. For agreeing to see us.”
“Declan, please. And it’s not a problem, you can trust.” Indicating they should follow him, he led the two to sit in front of the fire as he took a chair opposite them. “Ash, we’ll be awhile.”
Heading for the door, Ashton called out, “Which is code for haul arse. We ‘vant to be alone.’”
Snorting in response, Declan mused, “His Garbo needs improvement, but as assistants go, he out-cutes the competition.” A beat, and his expression changed to one of calm assurance as the seconds passed with no one saying anything. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Let me explain first, that this isn’t a formal visit. I hope you should both feel more at ease to speak knowing there is no judgment or diagnosis being served up at the end of our talk. This conversation is solely to provide you both with options, choices you may make at a time when things may seem scattered.
“To start, I am a physiatrist in private practice. My clients are limited in number, because I find concentrating on quality of service rather than quantity is a benefit to my work and their progress. I specialize in dealing with aspects of human sexuality. That’s my professional identity. Privately, I hold a more broadened view than most of society on what is considered the sexual norm. To be blunt, I have been for many years a proponent and player in the BDSM subculture. I am a sexual Dominant, and am considered highly proficient in my field. It affords me a standing in the community that I take pride in; that I value. But it also affords a greater sense of accountability when mixed with my professional concerns.
“To many, this sort of play is considered only a momentary flirtation with kink - something to spice up a Saturday night, let‘s say. To others, it becomes a way of life. Some people feel it to be shameful, while others consider it the greatest form of freedom and self-expression. The views are as differing as those on homosexuality. And in many ways, they parallel.
“It is said that with great power comes great responsibility. It is a truth I live by, both in my work and on the scene. Which is why on occasion, I offer my services as guide to those seeking help in broadening their sexual and emotion growth through experimentation. I’ve seen too many people become lost due to their lack of knowledge, ill-considered choices or by falling victim to the wrong players. This is not the sort of play in which it is wise to let others learn by their mistakes. To use an analogy, it is better to be led into the light rather than left to be dragged through darkness.”
Head rush of words and the blaring roar of no, no, no, no all filled Michael’s mind as Declan talked, until he was stiff and so so still. Finally, it was too much and Michael turned to Brian with angry eyes. “You told him? You told him and now, what?” Brian tried to take his hand, but Michael shoved the touch away as his hurt slammed through him, evident in his voice as he whisper hissed, “All these years, and now - after only once, you’re giving me away? Trying to pass me off, after just… Like I wasn‘t….” He couldn’t even finish, desperate to leave, to run from the pain as fury took over. Michael tried to bolt up from the sofa, only to have Brian grab him but Michael still struggled as he was brought into Brian’s arms, onto the larger man’s lap - held from escaping as Brian tried to break through Michael’s misconstrued ideas.
Rarely in their years as friends, had Brian ever seen Michael so furious. He held on tight as Michael cursed and fought his hold, all the while cradling him into his body so Michael couldn’t hurt either of them. “Mikey! Michael, stop. Listen to me, listen!” Pulling Michael to him, he said, “I’m not passing you off, never. Not with you.” When Michael stopped struggling, Brian pulled his head back with a hand in Michael’s hair and asked, “Where do you belong?” He kissed Michael, soft but firm - a touch they’d shared before. “Remember, Mikey. Where?”
Shaken, breathing hard even as the fight flowed out of him with Brian’s kiss - Michael’s eyes rose and fell from Brian’s eyes to his mouth, and back again. Slowly he raised his hand, now free from Brian’s grasp, and touched his fingers to Brian’s full lips. His voice and fingers shook as he repeated the answer that had been given to him by Brian within the year past, “There, that‘s where.”
Brian nodded, gentling a kiss against their touch and said, “Always.” When Michael darted a glance at their host, then back - with sorry on his lips, Brian shushed him with another kind of kiss. Stealing his breath, even as he breathed patience and strength back in turn. After a moment of melting, he drew back at Michael’s moan - touching foreheads as they both recovered.
“Beautiful.” Declan’s voice broke through the silence, causing both men to turn their eyes his way. The display hadn’t phased him in the slightest; if anything, it had put Declan more at ease as he sat comfortably back in his chair with his legs crossed. He was smiling, looking pleased by what he’d seen. “The two of you together, it’s beautiful.” There was no condescension in his words, only admiration and truth in his voice.
He continued gently, “Michael, you’re not here for me to take you over. I’m here to help you both, together. To guide you both, should we all agree that’s where you want to go.” Looking at Brian, he asked, “What brought you here today? What happened?”
And so Brian, the man who only ever shared his emotions with others reluctantly, started the story. He stuck to the bare facts, leaving unquestioned motivations behind as he explained a little of their history. Stalling out on occasion, he lost the words to continue once or twice only to have Michael take up quickly after as the events of Dominion were told.
“He…. In the bar, he…. He claimed me, to save me from Dylan.” Michael’s voice fell, just as his eyes did. Story over.
But for Brian, that wasn’t the end at all. “I claimed you because I wanted you. I took you to my bed because I wanted you. Because you’re mine, and I should have years ago.” He met Michael’s quickly raised eyes. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Michael flushed, but managed not to drop his eyes under the weight of Brian’s stare. He admitted softly, “I scared myself, too. I’m sorry.”
Declan was leaning forward now, watching their expressions closely, enmeshed in their tale. “How long have the two of you known each other?”
Brian answered, “Since we were fourteen. Best friends, and now….more.”
Arching an eyebrow, Declan mused, “And you’ve never…. Before last night?”
Brian laughed; he couldn’t help it when Michael groaned and hid his face in the curve of Brian’s neck. Clearing his throat, Brian answered with more chagrin than folks would have excepted coming from him. “Close, very close. More than once. But no, not before last night.”
Michael lifted his head, a contemplative frown on his face - like he was debating saying something, and then found the courage to do it. Facing Brian, his expression changed to almost a playful bashfulness that was decidedly cute. “Not that counted, anyway. But….” Eyes dropping to Brian’s mouth, he smiled. “You’ve touched me. You kissed me all the time. Drove me nuts forever.”
Grinning back, Brian amended his former answer. “Best friends, with benefits. And now, full coverage.”
Sitting back in the chair with a deliberate slowness, Declan looked at them - his face thoughtful, but uncompromising as his asked. “And how long have you loved him?” He didn’t bother to signify to whom the question was addressed; both men were equally in his sight. It was a crafted moment, a push to see who of the two it struck the most intimately. To see who would answer first, and how.
Caught off guard by Declan’s question, Michael didn’t even think before he was repeating the mantra they’d both held as sword and shield against the world - for Brian’s sake, at his bequest as he made his way through his life. “Brian doesn’t do love.”
Silence fell like a hammer as Michael realized what he’d said…. And how it didn’t hold as an explanation, because as always when dealing with him and Brian, they were just words. Words that only held the power the listener afforded them.
For Brian, hearing them as he had so often whether from his own mouth or Michael’s, the words had altered - their meaning changed. Too many years of thinking them the best offense, only now to fine they’d been his greatest defense against risk, against loss and against fear. Looking at Michael, knowing that even after what they’d started and what he fully intended to continue - his friend was willing to lend him back his own excuse gave him the strength to speak another reminder. A higher truth….
“The book and verse of love and relationships according to me…. With one exception.” He was looking at Declan, staring him down as he ran a hand up Michael’s neck and through his hair. “Always.“ Again, it was a claim - a stake made in a bigger stand. Feeling Michael shiver from enjoyment of his touch, Brian saw Declan incline his chin - saw in the man’s face that a limit had been acknowledge and agreed to….
Not that it stopped Declan from digging for more.
Soothing a hand down the line of his thigh, Declan switched his focus to Michael. Michael who was sitting still over Brian’s lap with his eyes closed, lost in Brian’s caress. Silently, Declan rose and crossed to stand in front of them. “Michael.” He waited for a moment, watching with a small smile as Michael looked up at him in surprise. “Give me your right hand.” Holding out his own, the gesture similar to an invitation to dance, he waited as Michael complied.
Holding Michael’s hand in his, Declan focused his eyes on it even as he spoke to both men. “Being a good Dominant requires talent; skills developed over time and with experience.” He ran a finger over the back of Michael’s hand. “One key to success is having a strong eye for observation.” With a push, he moved his left hand quickly up Michael’s arm, drawing the sleeve up until he’d exposed the damage to view - the bruising as glaring in firelight as it had been at Brian’s the night before…. Holding Michael’s arm when he tried to pull away, Declan fixed his eyes on him - brown to blue. “This, Michael. Was this about love for you?”
“No!” Michael shook his head, only to be stilled by Brian’s grip.
Declan continued, “Not love, then what need did it serve? Sex?”
Frowning, Michael started to say yes, then realized it was, “no.” The word a whisper….
“Did you get what you wanted? Did you find your answer in what he did?” It was evident in his voice and by the play of Declan’s fingers over his wrist, that it wasn’t Brian that Declan was addressing.
“No, no I didn’t.” Voice still small, a little lost.
Raising his hand again, Declan eased a touch through Michael’s hair until he was cupping Brian’s hand with his own. “And here? There’s a question here. It’s inside you just waiting to be unlocked.” Glancing back and forth with purpose from one to the other, Declan continued. “Beyond love, beyond sex - what is the key? We’re here to discover what it is you want, what it is you need.” Stepping back, he asked simply, “Shall we begin?”
- - - - - - -
“I feel like I’m in high school again, being pop quizzed.” Michael’s nervous words harkened a rousing bout of laughter as Ashton escorted him into the door of the building’s third level. It was spacious, cluttered and extremely well lit from above by a series of sky lights. An artist’s studio. One that most would kill for….
Closing the door behind them, Ashton joined Michael on a sofa in the far corner. He laid the folder he’d been carrying on the cushion between them. “Except with this, you’re at an advantage. Because who would know the answers to the quiz better than the man the quiz is about? It’s not like you can fail when it’s you, you’re discussing.”
Michael gave a small snort, “Says you….” Even he had to laugh at how juvenile it sounded, but he was trying not to think too much on what they were about to do. Looking around, Michael took in the layout of the studio. The main makeup of the space was devoted to sculpting; marbles of various shapes and colors were shelved against one wall, or on the floor depending on size and girth. There were a few works in progress set up on stands and tables all around, each with a drape covering them from Michael’s curious eyes. There were a couple of podiums set up with finished statues, miniatures of larger versions it seemed. The artist obviously worked in more than one medium, considering the wood carving and clay wheel workspaces set up in separate corners of the room. Though again, most of the examples were covered from view. But of all the mediums being used, it was the fourth workspace that stood out from the rest….
Close to where they sat, there was a photography workshop - complete with wall and floor mats, lighting equipments, backdrops stored to one side and a series of cameras neatly housed in a storage cabinet. Some of them looked like antiques, some looked expensive and were of the latest design. And unlike the rest of the room, this space was the neatest and the most orderly of them all. Almost like it belonged to a different person than the others.
“Who’s the artist?” Michael asked.
Smiling, Ashton did a mock bow of his head as he answered, “I sculpt and carve a bit. Dec’s the artist; he and his all seeing eyes.”
Michael shook his head, throwing a glance around the room again - and all the covered works in progress. “A bit?”
Smiling with a gleam in his eye, Ashton inclined his head in agreement. “A bit, yes. But only for a select audience. Private commissions and the like.” Leaning back, one arm resting along the top of the sofa - he relaxed back and tapped the folder still resting between them. “There’s no reason to be nervous, Michael. It’s just a survey, really. Gauging your likes, dislikes - your limits. The only thing you need to do, is answer with what’s in your heart. Tell the truth. Just remember, this is about you, not anyone else’s expectations of you. Agreed?”
Taking a deep breath, Michael agreed. “All right.”
- - - - - - -
“Let’s talk about one of your favorite subjects.”
Brian arched his brow and shot Declan a look that said he was more than aware that they were on the same page. “Let me guess, myself.” It wasn’t a question.
Declan pursed his bottom lip for a moment as he fought not to grin, then replied, “Even better. Sex. And you.” They were both sitting, relaxed - easy with the topic. Not a nerve in sight. “We need to gauge your limits, test your boundaries - your experience.” He let out a laugh at the incredulous look on Brian’s face. “Not that I think you lack experience, or have many more boundaries to be breached. If I hadn’t heard an ear full from Gregory when he called, I would have still known you by your reputation. The name Brian Kinney has graced my ears on occasion since moving to Pittsburgh a couple years back. A king amongst commoners, as it were.”
His eyes reflecting the confidence he was known for, if not a mild case of self-satisfaction - Brian mused, “And why is it that I’ve never heard of you? You don’t strike me as the reclusive type, Declan.”
“We operate in different circles, would be the most succinct response. Though given what I can guess is your taste in entertainment, I’d say it is surprising that we’ve not met before now.”
Chuckling, Brian replied. “Serendipity, then.”
A nod in agreement, Declan said, “As you say. But you seem more like a man who doesn‘t believe in fate.”
“I believe the world is what you make of it.”
“Yes. By being a man who takes control, and rules his own heart.” A beat, and then…. “Until one man slips in and changes the game.”
Silence. Brian sat looking at Declan, no response given. Why say anything when the absence said it all.
- - - - - - -
Michael threw his head back, sighing as he tried to think through the twilight zone he’d found himself in. They’d been talking for almost an hour, and he’d found himself thinking more than once that the whole conversation was like a blend of a dozen nights of tricking gossip shared at Woody’s with his friends, of tentatively whispered fantasies shared with a lover and of the nightmarishly embarrassing sex ed heart to hearts with his Mom as a kid. His libido ebbed and flowed through the dizzying spiral of each kink and quirk discussed till he was bemused, chagrined, excited and flushed - as much from embarrassment as he was from anticipation. “Shit, you must think I’m as vanilla as they come.”
Snorting softly, Ashton assured him, “Hardly, Michael. You’ve got a good grasp of what you like, what you need. And you’re self-aware enough to hold to what’s right for you, to know your limits.” Closing the folder, he brought his leg up onto the sofa so he could sit facing Michael. “You don’t have to go to extremes to enjoy the experience; and pain isn’t necessary to find pleasure in the scene. Besides once the boundaries are set, the sky’s the limit on where else you and your partner can go.”
Michael looked at him, taking in Ashton’s gentle smile and the merriment dancing in his eyes. “Voice of experience?”
His smile turning quickly to a grin, Ashton leaned forward - deliberately invading Michael’s body space, only stopping when he was an inch from his face. A whisper, an answer - he murmured in a tease. “That would be telling.” A pause, a moment passing long - and he rose with a laugh, giving Michael his back as he walked away, leaving the other man inhaling an unsteady breath as Michael watched him leave.
- - - - - - -
“Yeah, I’ve played. Comes with the territory, added an edge to the odd night now and again. But it’s never been concentrated, never been long term, never had more than the immediate purpose of getting off.”
“And now with Michael, you feel what? Is it only obligation? Or is it because no one else is allowed to know him more intimately than you?” At Brian’s frown, Declan added, “Submission is deeply intimate, not only in a physical respect but in an emotional one as well. For many it is the closest a person can come to knowing themselves, and in offering that part of themselves to another - they give one of the greatest of gifts.” He waited for moment, letting his words have their full effect before continuing, “Answer the question, Brian. What is it you feel?”
Turning his eyes to the fire, Brian didn’t answer for a long time. But then he found the words. “I’ve always told him that no one is too good for him, that he is better than anyone.” He released a bitter laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Even then I didn’t want anyone getting too close, having him too long. It makes me a bastard, but he has always been and will always be mine.”
Declan’s voice reached him above the crack and hiss of the flames, “I think there’s more to it, more than keeping what was yours. Somewhere in your years together, you decided that it was you that wasn’t good enough for Michael. Afraid to hurt him, afraid to let him go.”
Brian shot a look Declan’s way, anger lacing his words for the first time since he’d met the man. “There is no letting go, he’s here because he wants to be here. And whatever my motives, I have hurt him. Again and again.”
“He’s still with you despite the pain, Brian. And because, past your looks, money and success, he sees you as more than you see yourself.” Pausing, he concluded, “I think there is a part of you that sees him as the measure of your worth.”
Suddenly defensive, Brian snapped, “What’s your angle in all this? You get off on it? The questions, the analyzing, playing with people’s heads and bodies….”
Declan’s calm exterior completely crumbled under Brian’s attempt at deflection. He burst out laughing, giggle-high and gorgeous as he threaded his hand through his hair as it fell in his face. His recovery was quick, granted, but still it was a breaking down of his layers - a glimpse of who he was below the analyst and dom. Straightening up, Declan cleared his throat. “You mean beyond the accomplishment and the reward of helping others. I enjoy it, of course. I’m good at it. And remember, Brian. I’m a dominant; control is what I do.”
Settling back from his anger, Brian asked, “But not who you are?”
Answering with seriousness, Declan said, “I am many things. As are you. But what I am to you today is an opportunity. I can help you, give you the knowledge you need to accept and care for the gift Michael is wanting to share. As for what is my angle, there is none. I’m an analyst, and I’m a scene consultant. It’s a responsibility I take seriously. Having Gregory recommend you was the first step in the door. As a friend, his judgment is something I value. Meeting you both was enough to intrigue me, to convince me to say yes. But the bonus, now that lies in how I believe you’ll progress together. Seeing you both, watching him unfold to your will - it will be a pleasure to witness. Should it be agreed that this is what you both want.”
Back to staring into the fire, “It’s what he says he wants, what he needs.” He had a sudden image of Michael from the night before, a memory of how it had felt to have him giving in, giving over to Brian’s control. To his desires….. “It’s what I want, too.”
- - - - - - -
“Michael.” Lost in thought, Michael didn’t hear his name being called at first. “Michael.” Turning at the sound, Michael smiled bashfully, a sorry already on his lips until Ashton waved it away as unnecessary.
“No worries. Just wanted to tell you I was going to take this down to Dec.” He had Michael’s file in his hand. “Why don’t you stay for a bit; look around if you like. I’ll check to see if they’re finished, then come get you.” At Michael’s nod, Ashton left the room.
Drawing in a steadying breath, Michael rose from the sofa and arched his back. His muscles still ached and the stretch helped ease some of the tension he’d been feeling, physically at least. Emotionally, the tension remained. He was titillated, intrigued - a part of him not wanting to go, even as another part of him just wanted to be with Brian alone. Alone and naked, in bed. But he told himself that patience had its own rewards…. The night before had been full proof of that.
He determined to think on other things as he walked around the room. Skimming a touch over each cloth covered work he passed, Michael smiled as he let chance decide which object to uncover as he went. A game of “Mighty Moe” well played as he lifted the drape off one of the statues resting on a table nearby. “Wow….”
Two hands held bound together, cuffed at the wrists - it was a figure study. The hands rose up, balanced on a wood stand as they lifted up with fingers slightly spread and curled inward like someone holding up their arms in reverence. Lifelike and beautiful, the sculpture held a natural grace that was perfect down to the last detail. Even the hint of veins under the skin shown through. And the cuffs; they were intricate, appearing to bind, to press into the flesh of the wrists they imprisoned.
Glancing down at his hands, Michael pulled his sleeves up and looked at the bruises. Pathetic, the word echoing in his brain. But then he closed his eyes at the almost tangible feel of remembrance…. Brian’s eyes, his touch - the feel of his long fingers and strong hands as they fastened the leather around his wrists. Michael bit his lip and hugged his arms around his waist in lieu of having Brian there to hold.
“fuck….” A murmur, a sigh and Michael opened his eyes. He crossed to the center of the room where a platform had been assembled to hold the latest work in progress. It was a large piece, judging by the size of the tarp. Stepping up to the platform, Michael stopped as the wood pressed into his shins - the height set over a foot off the floor. He pulled the cover off, letting the fabric fall from fingers that suddenly forgot how to grasp anything as they fell open in his awe.
A man, kneeling with his arms behind his back. A slave, naked and hard. His head thrown back, the expression caught - held in that one instant of absolute subjugation and joy. Eyes half closed, mouth partially opened as if gasping in wonder at his own capacity for pleasure - he was…. It was…. Michael didn’t have the words. His eyes traveled over the piece, taking in the four foot tall work that was partially unfinished. The man, his body had been fully realized from head to mid thigh but the rest of it - his legs and feet were as yet undone. It looked as if he were rising from the marble, freedom found in his own enslavement. The sculpted man’s status made plain by the collar at his throat, and the chain carved to flow down his frame as it caressed his chest and fell over the outer curve of one partially completed thigh.
Michael stepped around the platform, mouth going dry as he found what he’d expected. The man’s hands tied behind him, clutched tightly against the slope of his inner back above the beginning crease of his behind. Muscles taut, pulled back and held as the slave accepted all with rapture shining from his face.
Circling back, Michael stood before the work and swallowed past the sudden dryness of his throat. His eyes caught by the man’s face, caught in the need and thankfulness that both shown from inanimate stone. Unable to help himself, Michael lifted his hands to touch - feeling the roughness of the marble, still unbuffed and coarse beneath his fingers. Unaware that even as he touched, he was shaking. His own response rising in him like a wave, he pressed his hands flat - one over the slave’s cheek, one over the chain resting against the man’s chest.
Locked, lost in it - Michael jumped in surprise as hands settled on his shoulders, the heat of someone at his back. Looking away, then up, he saw that it was Brian with Declan at his side.
“Ash is quite the talent, yes?” Declan said fondly.
Looking back to the sculpted slave, Michael gave a small nod. A soft, “yes.” Slowly, with a viable reluctance, Michael removed his hands from its cool surface. He reached up to cup Brian’s hands with his own. Unaware that he was still exposed, his wrists uncovered to view.
Unaware at how even the sight of them had Brian’s face darkening like a storm….
Throwing Declan a look, Brian saw by his expression that the other man understood. Now he just needed to make Michael understand. No one was to touch Michael, to mark him, like that ever again.
Brian nuzzled the back of Michael’s neck, burying his face against the mark he’d given him, finding the barest of impressions still there as the edges were beginning to fade. He could feel Michael’s breathing catch, and it made him smile. It always made him smile. Raising his face for a moment, he saw Declan’s nod and knew instinctively that he was right. It was the perfect time to go further; to finish something he’d asked Declan’s favor to do.
Speaking into Michael’s ear, Brian began. “Picture yourself, Mikey. On your knees for me. Hard for me. Bound for me. Aching for it, for me. For what I can do to you, for you. Open and ready to do whatever I say.” He tightened his grip as he swept an arm across Michael’s chest, holding him from shoulder to shoulder. “See his face; it’s yours. See his naked body, it’s yours. See his dick, hard as stone; it’s yours.” He dropped his free hand to Michael’s groin, cupping the resulting hard-on and massaging it until Michael moaned. “But it’s not yours, is it, Mikey? It’s mine. Your body, your heart, your soul. Mine.” The edge in his voice, the rasp of its sound was evidence of the power Brian’s words had over even his own body and mind. “Say it. Say the words.”
Michael cried out as Brian’s hand continued to drive him crazy, as the words swept over him, sounding through him with the clarity of a known truth. “Yours, ahh. I’m yours.”
Passing his tongue over the curve of Michael’s ear, trailing it down the line of his throat, Brian ordered softly, “Take off your clothes.”
Eyes snapping wide, Michael remembered Declan’s presence and looked over quickly. “Brian….” He wasn’t allowed to get any further.
“I’m not giving you a choice, Mikey. I want to see you naked. Showing me, showing him that you belong to me.” Ending his orders with a last quick squeeze at Michael’s cock and nip at the back of the shorter man’s neck, and Brian pulled back to watch. “Do it. Do it, for me….”
Conscious of the eyes watching him, both those familiar and unknown, Michael closed his eyes as he lifted his shirt. Brian’s shirt…. Slowly drawing it over his head, he let it drop and reached for his jeans with unsteady fingers. He fought not to gasp as his fingers brushed alone the swell of his flesh beneath the zipper; winning against anxiety as he drew the metal teeth down until the sides parted and he was free. A breath of courage and Michael opened his eyes, the slave’s face all that he could see as he pushed the denim down to the floor, then off his feet along with his shoes. Standing there, bared to the room under the rays of sun from the skyline above….
“Good, very good.“ Brian ran his hand down the line of Michael’s back, letting his fingers swept over the smooth soft skin with appreciation and full due. His, his to touch, his to know. To take. It was his first instinct now, to have Michael, to complete the final step. But again he saw the evidence of another’s touch, and it reminded him that his needs were secondary in the here and now. Despite the control to do what he wanted, it was too soon.
Turning to Declan, Brian spoke to sooth Michael’s nerves. “Still. Be still. He‘s going to look at you.”
As Brian stepped back, Declan moved closer. His slender clothed form next to Michael’s nakedness as his eyes traveled. He didn’t attempt to touch. It had been agreed before hand that there would be no touching. Instead, he walked around him and looked - his eyes taking in each fading mark, some darker than others. Shoulder, waist, wrists and back. Most nothing to worry over, a minor nuisance. But for the ones above each hand. They weren’t long term damage; they’d fade with time. But it was the significance of them that had the potential to last.
“What safe word did you choose, Michael?”
Looking up from where he’d dropped his eyes, Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The man from Dominion. Did he discuss safe-wording?” When Michael shook his head, Declan continued, “It’s the first principle of playing a scene. Setting limits, agreeing on a safe-word - they are fundamental necessities, Michael. To play without them, to give up their protection is risking more than the game is worth.”
Michael didn’t look away, though he wanted to, he couldn’t turn from the other man’s eyes. Somehow the expression there gave him comfort enough not to listen to the voice in his head; for the moment leaving “pathetic” behind. Not that such a thought could hold anyway as he felt Brian again at his back, pressing close as he began running his hands up Michael’s arms, then down his sides to hold him by his hips. Just the feel of him so close had Michael hardening again; a condition that increased the flush of his skin as he remained under Declan’s watchful gaze.
Declan nodded in appreciation, eyes sparking with a darker blue as he enjoyed the view. “He’s hungry for you, Brian.” Meeting Brian’s intense look with a mild dip of his head, he then looked at Michael through the veil of his lashes. “Have you fucked him, yet?”
Keeping a steady eye on Declan, even as he paid full notice of Michael’s quickening breath, Brian stroked a hand back over the curve of Michael’s ass. His touch meant to ground, even as it maddened Michael by adding to his arousal. “He was too sore. But soon. Very soon.”
Michael’s eyes fluttered as Brian ran his fingers between his cheeks. He was caught between them, embarrassed by being naked, by being discussed like he wasn’t there - but hotter than he’d thought possible at being on display, being touched by Brian in front of Declan because it was Brian’s will. He didn’t want the other man to touch him, but being under Brian’s hands - the object of their talk…. Damn.
“Brian, I…”
“Shhhh, Michael.” Declan was quick to place two fingers over Michael’s lips, not even making contact - just there to warn, a fraction from closing the distance. “If you begin playing scenes for real, there is no speaking without permission. Your Dom will set the pace, and tell you what to do. Understand?”
Nodding his head, Michael bit his lip to keep from saying yes aloud. Even as Declan stepped back, Michael willed himself not to ask for the more he craved when Brian continued to feel him, hands moving everywhere. Throat, nipples, thighs and even his balls; he was road mapped until he was moving back against Brian’s groin and forward into every touch - Declan’s presence be damned.
“It takes a strength of will to obey. Submission isn’t for the weak, no matter what others may assume.” Moving to the side, he stood as Brian worked Michael’s body. “Michael’s passion is his gift. His faith in you, his trust yours to hold if you accept. Do you accept, Brian?”
Voice thick with desire, Brian took Michael’s length in hand and answered, “Yes.” Stroking him, circling against Michael’s behind as he drove the smaller man into his hand - Brian panted against Michael’s ear, echoing Michael’s whimper with a faint growl.
Declan pushed further, “Then there is a question you must know the answer to; ask him. Ask him before you bring him.”
Pulling Michael’s head back, Brian spoke against the side of his mouth - so close to a kiss, but not. “It’s rising in you, Mikey. My hand’s wet with it you’re so hard, so close.” Circling down, jerking up quick and fast, he was driving Michael to the brink - holding him there as Michael cried out. “I want you to choose, Michael. Empty your mind, and tell me. What is your safe word? Tell me, tell me now.”
A shout, an answer burst forth from Michael as his reason fell and drowned in the storm of coming. Violent, and hard it came upon him - a rush, a jerk and he was blind to all but the roar in his ears and the sensation of satiation as it took over his world.
He came back to Brian’s soft affectionate chuckle, the sound sending tingles down his back. And the words, “Good choice, Mikey. Perfect.” For a moment, Michael didn’t even remember what Brian was talking about until he heard Declan speaking from the left.
“Zephyr. A calming western wind….” Declan smiled. “It is a good choice.” He looked at them, at Michael held in Brian’s embrace - shaken but secured. “Zephyr in the arms of his Rage.” When they both turned their eyes to him in surprise, Declan let out a laugh. “Ash tells me no member of the gay community should be lacking in knowledge of local pop culture. Which is his way of describing town gossip.“ He paused for effect then added with a grin, “That, and you couldn’t walk two feet down Liberty without seeing the posters on every wall and in every window. It’s a good likeness, by the way. Of you both.”
Brian shook his head, still smiling as Declan retrieved a hand towel from the pottery table. His amusement continued as Michael turned his head, hiding his face as the reality of his appearance hit him. Brian accepted the towel, brushing it over Michael’s stomach to clean up the mess he’d helped cause - loving it as Michael groaned and blushed even darker. As he turned into Brian’s hug once the towel was dropped.
“Take your time. I’m going down for a bit. Ash should have lunch ready soon, so you‘re both welcome to join us.” Declan gave Brian a last look, a nod and then he left.
Brian didn’t speak for the longest time, letting Michael process until he broke the silence.
Speaking into the curve of Brian’s throat, Michael murmured, “It feels like I’m standing with you on a ledge for the second time.”
Brian pulled back, framing Michael‘s face with his hands as he responded serious and low. “You trusted me then, not to let you fall.”
Deep, dark - Michael‘s eyes held him. Softly said, “I still do.”
Brian replied with a smile. “I do, too.” He swept Michael’s answering grin away with a kiss, fierce and wet. One that called to his blood, and brought his brain functions back down to the ache in his cock - hard and still trapped inside his jeans.
A condition that Michael was fully aware of as he stole a hand between them and pressed his hand against Brian’s groin. Rocking his palm against Brian’s bulge as he worked his fingers against the outline of his balls, Michael swallowed Brian’s groan until the taller man pulled out of the kiss with a hiss.
“Bad, bad boy.” The delighted amusement belayed the admonishment of Brian‘s words.
Michael looked down, and deliberately pulled Brian‘s jeans open - the well worn buttons popping free with minimal effort. Raising his eyes again, Michael watched Brian‘s face as he teased his fingers through the dark hair he‘d revealed - avoiding the length still hidden by the denim. “I want to touch you.”
Humming in appreciation, both of the tease and of the added edge of Michael’s playful demands, Brian inhaled slowly and grinned back. “Little something to take the edge off?” Dropping his hands to Michael’s ass, he added, “Till I can get this back in my bed.” When Michael’s eyes shut - Brian’s name a whisper, a plea, Brian murmured his consent. “Go ahead, Mikey. Pop it out. Make me come.”
The feel, the heat of Brian in his hand as he watched Brian’s eyes flutter and close. Each stroke, each soft grunt as he worked him faster and faster…. Michael watched, watched in awe that it was his touch doing this, that it was him causing Brian to gasp out, getting closer and closer. That it was his voice tipping Brian over as he harkened to one of his dirtier fantasies and murmured hotly, “On me. Come on me, all over me. Paint me with it. N… Now.”
“Fuck, fuck!” The words cracking, Brian’s shout forced out of him as surely as his seed as it burst forth and coated Michael’s skin. Jerking once, twice and then again into the warmth of Michael’s small hand - Brian’s body expanded and snapped back like a rubber band, the pressure gone in an instant of liquid fire.
Sucking in a breath, Brian opened his eyes and laughed. Laughed and rubbed his forehead against Michael’s, “I love a dirty mind.” He groaned weakly, watching as Michael lifted his wet hand and cleaned it with his tongue. Snatching up the towel, he gave it to Michael to wipe himself down as Brian fastened up his jeans.
Michael couldn’t stop smiling, feeling Brian’s eyes on him as he pulled on his clothes and then bent to put on his shoes. He liked being Brian’s object of desire; the one that put the look of sex in his eyes. It made him feel empowered in a way he’d only guessed at in his dreams.
Brian held out his hand, taking Michael’s in turn. A serious look on his face, he asked, “You okay with all this?” At Michael’s nod, Brian gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go let Declan continue playing Doctor Dom, have a little lunch and then…. Go home for a little dessert.”
Following Brian down the stairs, Michael knew it was going to be the longest meal in history.
tbc - Part 5...
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
I have no willpower whatsoever
I really don't. I was going to wait until it was all posted to read this. But I should have known I'd cave. I'm very very very glad I did!
Everything in this story is lush - the language, the imagery, the feeling. I love anything that explores why Michael and Brian are always what's left when the smoke clears in their lives and I get the feeling that we're just at the tip of the iceberg now I can't wait to see them progress.
Declan and Ashton... oh my word. First off I'd like to take Ashton home and cuddle him. I want to molest Declan. Original characters in fanfic can be a fine line to walk - it's hard to establish new people with the characters everyone already knows and loves and many times authors spend *too* much time trying to make their characters 'fit'. Not so with Declan and Ashton. You've managed to - with very little fanfare - introduce them and their different personalities and perspectives and never lose step with your story.
Or more simply put - God I love this story and it wouldn't break my heart if you wanted to post EVERY day.
:)
From:
Re: I have no willpower whatsoever
Ha... See, I've spun the web, now it's your job to get all tangled inside...lol.
It's great that you're enjoying it, darlin'... May you continue to.
hugs
xof