Michael

by Marilize Roos

  Judith leaned up on tip-toe to kiss first Tristan, then Michael on the cheek. She took Tristan’s gym bag and car keys from him, and then sashayed up the stairs with a flirtatious look over her shoulder. Tristan stared after Judith for a moment, feeling such love and admiration for his wife.

  “You’re a lucky man, Tristan Bennett,” Michael murmured behind him, also staring after her back.

  “I know,” Tristan said with feeling, and in that moment, it felt like a vow. He turned to Michael. “Although, you’re just as lucky; she loves you too. She’s very protective of you, in fact.”

  A strange expression, one that Tristan couldn’t decipher, crossed Michael’s face; Something soft around his eyes, a little wary around his jaw. Something vulnerable. Michael blinked, and it was gone. “Something to drink?”

  “Sure,” Tristan nodded, following Michael into the kitchen. Michael grabbed two bottled waters out of the fridge, then led the way to the den.

  They sat on opposite ends of the two-seater couch, half-turned to each other. Michael braced his back in the corner between the back- and armrest, one arm stretched out on top of the back of the couch, the hand holding his beverage resting on his knee. Tristan pulled one knee up onto the seat, his foot trapped between the opposite knee and the seat cushion. He leaned with his shoulder against the back-rest, both hands cradling his drink in his lap.

  “So…” Michael trailed off.

  “So…” Tristan agreed. He took a deep breath. “It feels awkward discussing something that should come naturally.”

  “Indeed,” Michael nodded. “What doesn’t feel natural?”

  “Talking about it,” Tristan said. “Although… I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s not exactly like I’ve ever been… you know.”

  “With a man,” Michael said. “I won’t lie; there have been a few for me, but not as many as you’d think.”

  Tristan gave Michael a wry smile. “Good to know.”

  “So I guess I want to know what you’d feel uncomfortable with. What are you open to try.”

  “I don’t know,” Tristan said. “Everything, I guess, although… the whole anal-thing… I don’t know, I’m a little nervous –”

  “Understandable,” Michael said quickly. “Do you think you’d enjoy it if we’re in the moment? Or would it be cold water in the face?”

  “Perhaps if we took it slowly? Sort-of work our way up to it?” Tristan said uncertainly, but Michael just nodded.

  “You know that it could feel incredible,” Michael promised.

  “I’d think so, or there wouldn’t be so many gay men around,” Tristan muttered.

  Michael grinned. “There’s that.” He became serious. “We’ll explore and see where it takes us, but you can safeword at any time, red or yellow. I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Don’t tolerate something that makes you uncomfortable. And if you feel at any time you’ve changed your mind –”

  “Okay,” Tristan nodded. He put his water down on a coaster on the coffee table.

  “Good,” Michael stood. “You know what to do. Give me five minutes, then come down those stairs naked and take your place on your mat.”

  Michael’s eyes met his, and Tristan tried to transmit every ounce of trust and sincerity in his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good boy,” Michael smiled. He stood and headed for the basement stairs without looking back, leaving the door open. He reached around the wall and flicked the light on, then climbed carefully down the wooden stairs, holding onto the railing, taking care where he put his feet, and lowering himself carefully to each step down.

  Tristan stared at the light spilling in through the basement door, and tried to still the emotions in him. Nervousness. Trepidation. Excitement. And yes, arousal.

  He tipped his bottled water up to his lips and took a long draught. He could feel his erection prickling inside his pants, and taking a last swallow, he left the empty bottle on the coffee table. After he returned from a quick trip to the bathroom, he stepped out of his clothes and folded them neatly, leaving any negative emotions on the couch with his clothes.

  He turned to the door, and giving his shoulders, neck and arms a loosening shake, he expelled a big breath. It’s time.

  Every step he descended, he could feel his submissive mind-set taking hold, until he stepped up to his mat to find Michael already waiting for him. Tristan didn’t hesitate; he knelt on his mat, gripped his elbows behind his back, and with a last look up to meet Michael’s eyes, he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  He let out a cleansing breath. Ready and waiting.

  God, my cock is certainly primed; if there was any doubt that I thought this was hot…

  He sensed Michael standing quietly before him. After what felt like an eternity later, he felt the edge of a finger under his chin, tilting his head back. He opened his eyes to meet his Dom’s, and the brush of Michael’s thumb lightly stroking his jaw sent shivers of delight all the way down his spine.

  “Up,” Michael said softly, and Tristan felt another thrill ripple down his spine. Michael offered him a hand up and led him to where short lengths of chain dangled from the overhead beam. Tristan offered his wrists, and Michael buckled on a set of leather cuffs and clipped them to the chains. When he had arranged Tristan’s posture to his satisfaction, Michael straightened and slowly circled him.

  Tristan closed his eyes, the better to sense his Dom. The first touch of Michael’s warm hand on his shoulder sent a shiver down his spine and made the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. His balls lifted, huddling closer to his dick that swayed hard and heavy between his spread thighs, and Tristan’s breathing was deep and heavy with anticipation.

  That hand trailed across the width of his shoulders and a short distance across his ribs, and then contact disappeared. Footsteps sounded on the unforgiving basement floor, circling around him again, and this time he felt a fingertip trailing over his temple, down his cheek, and tracing his jawline to his chin.

  The hand that suddenly collared his throat, just gently holding him in its grip, steadied him and sent a heady rush of desire through his veins. “Look at me,” Michael murmured, and he opened his eyes to meet Michael’s. “Give me a colour.”

  Tristan’s Adam’s apple bobbed within in Michael’s grip. “Green, sir.”

  Not breaking contact, Michael slid his hand from around Tristan’s throat to further trace the contours of his body. Collarbone. Pecs; his thumb lightly strummed Tristan’s nipple. Abs; he caressed each one.

  Michael leaned in to whisper in Tristan’s ear, but Tristan was so impatient with desire, he volunteered, “green, sir. I’m green.”

  A pleased smile flickered on Michael’s lips, and then he looked down to study Tristan’s cock. He gently cupped Tristan’s balls, as if he were weighing them, before bringing his hand up the length of his cock in a warm grip. When his palm cupped the tip of Tristan’s manhood, he squeezed gently and pushed his fist back down Tristan’s shaft, making Tristan’s hips buck. Tristan’s vision went white around the edges at the sensation, and he panted when Michael removed his hand.

  Instead of removing his hand again, Michael dragged the warm palm of his hand along Tristan’s hip as he continued his circle around him. Michael stepped up behind Tristan, his chest hard and flush against Tristan’s back, and Michael held onto Tristan’s hips with both hands as he pressed his trouser-clad erection against his ass. Tristan pressed back against him, and Michael stepped slightly to the side and ran one warm palm over Tristan’s back and back down to his ass, then pushed his hand in between Tristan’s cheeks to rest the edge of one of his fingers over his anus. The friction woke nerve endings Tristan hadn’t even realized he had.

  “Still green?” Michael asked. “Or are we nearing yellow?” That finger chafed one way, then the other, over that ring of muscle, then reached further forward to massage his taint.

  “Green, sir,” Tristan groaned.

  “Good boy,” Michael murmure
d.

  Michael stepped away and a moment later, Tristan heard a cap snick open, and gel was squeezed out. Tristan felt fingers spreading gel over his hole, and he stilled. Is this it? Is this where I lose my anal virginity?

  Not lose – give. To Michael.

  But instead of a cock, Tristan felt something else press against his ring. “Breathe out and bear down,” Michael murmured. “This will feel phenomenal soon, I promise.”

  Tristan did as instructed, and felt the plug breach his opening. It seated almost automatically once the widest circumference of the plug eased past the sphincter, but Michael tugged on it slightly a few times, even twisted it.

  “Colour?”

  “Green,” Tristan panted.

  “Good,” Michael said. “Because it’s going to start feeling good in just… a… minute.”

  The plug buzzed to life inside him and Tristan’s back bowed in surprize. “God,” Tristan panted.

  “Good?” Michael asked.

  At Tristan’s nod, Michael chuckled and reached for Tristan’s cock. There was still some residual lubricant on Michael’s hand from when he’d lubricated the plug, and his fist slid like silk up and down Tristan’s cock.

  “Don’t come yet,” Michael warned him. “I’ll tell you when.”

  “That’s just mean,” Tristan groaned.

  “Sadist, remember,” Michael grinned.

  The vibrations in the plug intensified, and a sweat broke out between Tristan’s shoulder blades. Honestly, any thoughts of the hand pleasuring him being male or female fled his mind. The increased sensation of the vibrating plug further muted his mind, reducing him to sensation and need.

  “Please,” Tristan begged. “Please, I can’t anymore. I have to come, please…”

  “Come,” Michael whispered, “come for me.”

  Tristan stopped thinking. Pleasure roared through him as he came in Michael’s fist. Michael tightened his fist and pumped Tristan’s cock a few more times, drawing out his orgasm until the last drop had been squeezed from the exhausted tip. By force of will, Tristan locked his knees so that he didn’t collapse, but he was grateful for the support of the cuffs and chains nonetheless.

  Dimly Tristan was aware that the vibrations in his ass had stopped, and Michael was pulling on it steadily to slip it free. He left it on a wad of paper towel on his instruments trolley, then returned to unclip the cuffs from the chains.

  Michael supported him when they stumbled to the couch and collapsed on it in a sated heap. Michael wrapped one arm around Tristan’s shoulders, and Tristan leaned into him.

  “How’re you feeling,” Michael asked, combing his fingers through Tristan’s hair.

  “You were right,” Tristan smiled. “It felt phenomenal.” He frowned. “But I don’t remember you coming.”

  “I don’t need to,” Michael said.

  “No, that’s not how this works,” Tristan shook his head. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t care about your pleasure?”

  “Oh, I enjoyed it – you have no idea how much, but I’d rather end the session on a high note, than risk –”

  “That’s the problem – you don’t want to risk. I trusted you; now will you trust me?”

  “Who’s the Dom and who’s the sub around here?” Michael grumbled, but Tristan could see the vulnerability in his expression.

  “Exactly – so order me to pleasure you too,” Tristan said.

  “Topping from the bottom, are we?”

  “Respectfully suggesting, sir,” Tristan said tenderly. “Please let me.”

  “Okay,” Michael’s voice was hoarse.

  Tristan’s hand went to Michael’s fly and slowly lowered the zip; he only had to lower it part-way before Michael’s trapped dick pushed it open from the inside. Tristan slid to the floor and crawled to between Michael’s thighs, and Michael slid lower down to give Tristan more access.

  Tristan studied Michael’s erection from various angles, considering how best to tackle this. He’d never blown a man before, but he’d been blown, and he knew what he liked. He also assumed the new tricks Judith had tried on him had come from Michael. He couldn’t really reach Michael’s balls in this position, but no matter; he held Michael’s cock out of the way, against his belly, and placed open-mouthed, sucking kisses on the base and along the length of his cock, working his way up towards the tip.

  Michael’s breath hissed into his lungs, and his hips bucked involuntarily. Tristan counted that tiny loss of control as a win and grinned up at his Dom, then licked one long, slow line up from the base of his cock to the tip. His tongue flickered over that wrinkled flap of skin just under the head, further maddening him, and then Tristan sucked the head into his mouth.

  The hand Michael put on the back of his head should have panicked Tristan, the idea that he’d be forced deeper onto Michael’s cock than he could handle, but Tristan found it had the opposite effect. He found the connection comforting. Liked that Michael was directing him in how to pleasure him, and by the grip on Tristan’s hair, it felt like Michael was as ready to pull him off his dick as he was to shove it deeper down his throat.

  “God, I’m so close,” Michael grunted.

  Tristan added a hum for good measure, and the vibration triggered Michael’s climax. He pulled Tristan’s head down, coming straight down the back of his throat, and Tristan waited patiently for Michael to finish, swallowing rapidly.

  When the hand in Tristan’s hair relaxed, Tristan pulled back to look up at Michael. His Dom looked anything but in control; he looked wild and exhausted. Tristan dragged himself back up onto the couch again and Michael put his arm around his shoulders again.

  No words were necessary. They rested, leaning against each other, basking in the afterglow, when Tristan became aware of bare feet padding on the floor towards them. He pried his eyes open to see Judith approaching, two bottles of water and a slab chocolate in her hands.

  She perched on Michael’s lap, her knees spilling over and draped over Tristan’s knee, and Tristan rested his open palm on Judith’s thigh. She opened one bottle of water and handed it to Tristan, then opened another for Michael.

  The three of them sat quietly for a long time. Judith opened the slab of chocolate, and every now and then she’d break off a row of chocolate and share it among the three of them. It felt… peaceful.

  And as the three of them sat in quiet reflection, Tristan realized that he’d just redefined his sexual identity.

  He was bi-sexual. He’d liked every moment of his experience with Michael, once he’d decided to embrace this facet of his sexuality.

  He was still attracted to, and in love with, his wife.

  And he was irrevocably in love with Michael.

  It was complicated.

  It was also unbelievably simple.

  ~*~

  Chapter 20

  The smell of bacon and eggs and the faint strains of country music lured Michael down to the kitchen early Sunday afternoon. He’d had a fantastic night’s sleep, and they’d all slept in that morning.

  Michael didn’t think he could be happier as a Dom.

  He had two subs. Judith was his sweet, gentle princess with the luscious curves, soft embrace and big eyes. Tristan was his strong, handsome man with muscles for days and a craving for pain, and trusted him enough to explore his sexuality.

  And what Dom wouldn’t feel humbled by that level of trust?

  When he reached the door to the kitchen, he saw Judith, dressed only in one of Tristan’s T-shirts, bopping along to the music, shuffling a few line-dancing steps in her bare feet every now and then in her trips between the fridge and the counter. The hem of the T-shirt swirled around her hips as they jerked with the music, tempting him with flashes of her shapely ass, and for a moment, he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and just appreciated the sight of a beautiful woman in his kitchen, making them breakfast.

  She twirled towards the fridge, spatula in hand, and noticed him standing at the doorway. She gasp
ed with surprize, the spatula slipping from her fingers. “Oh! Michael – I didn’t see you there.”

  “Carry on,” he smirked, nodding to the bacon sizzling in the pan. “Wouldn’t want the bacon to burn.” He couldn’t resist; he used his Dom-voice, and watched as she blushed and stooped to pick up the spatula that had skittered in under one of the cabinets, flashing him her bare ass. He felt his jeans tightening around his arousal, and his mouth went dry.

  She popped back up, and when she saw his expression, she froze and her blush spread upwards from her throat to the roots of her red-gold hair. He nodded to the pan, and she sidled over to the stove, watching him warily.

  Michael waited until she’d transferred the bacon to a paper towel-lined plate, using a clean spatula, then stepped up behind her, crowding her against the stove. He nibbled her earlobe, eliciting another gasp. “Turn off the hot plate,” he murmured in her ear. She shivered, but leaned forward and turned the dial to zero.

  “Have I mentioned I like seeing you at home in my kitchen?” Michael asked. His fingertips went to the hem of the shirt until he made contact with her skin, and dragged the fabric up while he explored her curves. He loved that hollow where her hip met the front of her thigh.

  “You may have mentioned it a time or two,” she panted.

  “To clarify: I like you even more naked in my kitchen,” he kissed right behind her ear, and rubbed his groin against her exposed ass.

  “Good to know.”

  He pulled the shirt upward, and she raised her arms obediently so he could pull it off over her head, leaving her completely naked. He dropped the shirt to the floor behind him and his hands went to her breasts, rolling her hardened nipples between thumbs and forefingers, all the while grinding his denim-clad erection against her buttocks.

  Michael was just debating the merits of lifting her onto the kitchen table and having her for breakfast instead, when she slid down to her knees before him and reached for his belt buckle. His mind was so clouded with lust, he at first didn’t realize her intention until she’d undone his fly and grabbed his waistband in both hands, pulling it down his thighs.