Love on Pointe Omnibus

by Colette Davison

  David gave one last brutal thrust and then groaned out his orgasm, his cock shuddering in Mason's mouth. Then he pulled out and leaned down to kiss Mason. He thrust his tongue into Mason's mouth and explored every inch of it as he licked the taste of the condom off Mason's tongue. It was an action that made Mason come undone completely. His orgasm hit him, and he groaned against David's mouth as he shot his load onto the floor between them.

  David moved behind him again and shoved him down onto his stomach so his face was close to his own cum.

  "Next time, you don't cum unless I say. Got it?"

  Mason nodded, part excited, part nervous. It was all part of the game. He knew he had to remember that.

  David pulled him back up to his knees and kissed him again, just as aggressively as before. When David had finished, he grabbed Mason's face in his hands, squeezing his cheeks so it distorted his mouth.

  "You don't do anything unless I give you permission."

  Mason nodded again.

  David patted his cheek. "Apologise for being naughty. Make it good, or I'll punish you."

  For the first time, Mason felt a twinge of concern. He was certain David wouldn't do anything he didn't want him to, but the thought of being punished in any way made his chest constrict. He reminded himself it was all part of the game. David might make threats, but he wouldn’t cross the boundaries that Mason had set. Knowing that allowed him to relax and play along.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. But he wasn't sure he would have been able to stop his orgasm even if he'd wanted to. Was his lack of self-control going to get him into trouble if he continued to explore David's kinks with him?

  "I don't believe you," David snarled.

  Mason hung his head. "I'm sorry." He spoke loudly and clearly, doing his best to sound genuine and convincing. "I won't do it again."

  "Better."

  David held Mason's face again, tipping it upwards so they were staring at each other once more. His touch was gentle this time, his eyes kind. "Thank you," he whispered, then planted a light, tender kiss on Mason's lips.

  Chapter Eighteen

  David

  David untied Mason's wrists and helped him to his feet. Then he turned the young man to face him, trying to gauge how he was feeling. He looked tired, drained, even, but a gentle smile turned his lips up at the corners.

  "Go lie down," David said. "I'll be right back."

  Mason's eyebrows pinched together, but he did as he was asked to.

  David went through to the main living area and poured a drink of water. He rooted through Mason's cupboards until he found a packet of biscuits and took both back through to the bedroom with him. Mason didn't have any kind of bedside table, so he set them both on the floor.

  Mason was lying in bed with the quilt pulled up around his chin, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

  "Food and drink," David said. "If you're hungry."

  He slipped into the bed beside Mason, snuggling under the covers with him. He wrapped his arms and a leg around Mason, pulling him close.

  "Are you okay?" He kissed the top of Mason's head. His hair was slightly damp and smelled of apples.

  "Yeah," Mason breathed. "I'm good."

  It was so good to hear that. The tension that had gathered in David's muscles the moment he'd stepped out of role began to ease away. He'd wanted Mason to get enjoyment and titillation out of their session. He'd watched him closely throughout, making sure he didn't miss their prearranged signal in case Mason wanted to stop. But Mason hadn't given the signal. He'd taken everything. He'd let David fuck his mouth with wild abandon, and the only thing David had seen in his eyes was desire and love, no trace of fear at all. That had made him hornier and want to fuck Mason's mouth harder.

  Through their time together, he'd learned Mason's limits. He knew how deep Mason could take him. He'd pushed a little, taking Mason to the very edge of what he could take but never beyond. Mason trusted him, and there was no way he was going to abuse that. He cared for the young man, respected him, loved him, even.

  He kissed Mason's jaw.

  "Are you trying to get me horny again?" Mason asked sleepily.

  "I doubt you've got the energy." David chuckled. "I certainly haven't. I just want to hold you, to take care of you."

  "It's nice."

  David was exhausted. When he was acting as a Dom, he always felt a rush of energy. He felt invincible, almost. But afterwards, when the adrenaline rush of his orgasm had faded away, he often felt flat and lethargic. This time, he didn't. He was still exhilarated, but also happily tired. It would be easy to close his eyes and fall asleep cuddling Mason.

  "How was that for you?" he asked, forcing himself to stay awake. They needed to talk before either of them forgot the emotions they'd felt during the session. "If you've got any doubts at all, I need to know. Be honest with me."

  "Better than I thought it would be," Mason admitted. He rolled onto his back so he could turn his head to face David, and they stared into each other's eyes. "I…" He licked his lips. "It really turned me on." His pale eyelashes hid the beautiful blue of his eyes.

  "How does that make you feel?" David asked.

  "I… don't know. A little ashamed, I guess." Mason bit his lip, and his chin wobbled.

  "That's okay. You're going to feel a whole jumble of emotions," David said. "I am."

  "Really?"

  "Yes." He kissed the tip of Mason's nose. "Why do you feel ashamed?"

  Mason breathed in sharply. "I was tied up. You were—"

  "Fucking your mouth?"

  Mason's lips curled into a half-smile. "Yeah." He touched his hand to his hair. "And you were hurting me. But it was so hot."

  "Did I hurt you too much? If I need to be gentler next time, say."

  "No. It thrilled me. Really turned me on. I shouldn't feel ashamed."

  "It's okay that you do."

  "Really?"

  David nodded. "In an hour, you might feel differently. After a sleep, your feelings may have changed again. All that matters right now is that you're honest with me about how you're feeling. It doesn't matter what you say. Nothing will upset or offend me. I'm here to take care of you."

  "It was good," Mason breathed. "You were good."

  David raised an eyebrow. "Just good?"

  Mason laughed. "All right. Awesome. You were awesome." His gaze became unfocused. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  Mason turned so their chests were pressed together and rested his head in the curve of David's neck. "I want to do it again."

  "Definitely?"

  Mason nodded.

  David shivered and allowed himself to grin. "I'm glad you want to be my sub."

  Mason rested his fingertips against David's jaw and lifted his head so he could stare deeply into David's eyes. "I can't think of anything I want more right now."

  "Even though you feel a little ashamed?" He needed to be sure that Mason knew what he was saying and what he was getting into.

  "Yes." Mason's voice was soft. "I'd do anything for you."

  David's breath caught in his throat, and he was pretty sure his heart damn near stopped.

  "But no spanking," Mason said. "I'm really not ready for that."

  David chuckled. "You will be."

  "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

  David would, because he was sure Mason would relax his limits once he'd experienced more pleasure as a submissive. But if he didn't, he'd deal with it. There were plenty of things they could do without spanking. Mason had tolerated a small amount of pain—the bite to his neck and the hair-pulling—which gave David plenty of room to experiment.

  "Next time," he whispered into Mason's ear. "I'm going to blindfold you and tie you to the bed."

  Mason shivered in his arms. "Yes, please," he whispered. "I think I'd like that."

  David chuckled. "Oh, you will. I promise."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mason

  Mason leaned forward onto his knees, breathi
ng in deeply as he waited for further direction from David. The two of them were with Alan in a rehearsal room, working on the scene where Oberon and Puck hatch their plan to use the juice of the magic flower on Titania. David had choreographed them a duet full of powerful leaps that saw them moving across and around the stage in an almost canon. Almost, because although Mason's moves were essentially the same as Alan's, there were several cheeky changes. A grand jeté was turned into a switch leap with a wide grin at the audience, or Alan's Oberon would pull a surprise tour jeté, turning mid-leap while Mason carried on in a grand jeté and then had to run to catch up and join in with the next leap. It was a fun duet, contrasting the gravitas of Oberon with the playfulness of Puck.

  But it was also very physically demanding, especially for Mason, the younger, less experienced dancer. Both he and Alan were soaked with sweat, and Mason's muscles were beginning to ache from exertion.

  "Alan," David said, "you need to give your leaps and jumps more height. You're the fairy king, the one in charge. You need to look the most impressive and regal as the pair of you scheme."

  "Got it," Alan said between sips of water.

  "Mason, by the same token, you need to be really conscious of the steps that Alan is in the process of executing. It's your job to keep yours that bit smaller, that bit less showy. You're going to have to adapt on the fly."

  Mason nodded and straightened up. He kept his muscles moving as he stretched, not wanting them to cool down in case they were going to carry on.

  "Once more," David said. "I want to see noticeable differences between the two of you this time."

  He wandered away to the edge of the studio while Mason and Alan returned to their starting positions.

  "You've got this," Alan said encouragingly, flashing Mason a grin.

  Mason hoped so. It was the hardest piece of choreography he'd ever been given, and he was determined to prove he was capable of it. But it was physically exhausting. Alan seemed to make every leap, jump, or spin look easy. But then, he was almost ten years older and had even more years of experience. Like many of the dancers in the company, Alan had started formal dance training at five, a whole eight years earlier than Mason. He'd never felt that it handicapped him before, but now, in a performance where he really had to up his game, he was starting to wish he had those extra years of training behind him.

  The music started, and they began. It was hard work, concentrating on his footwork, body position, facial expression, and balance while also tempering his own movements against Alan's. It took all his focus and wits to reduce the height and distance of a leap or pull back on the power he was putting into a jump. Many of the moves were executed in a split second, and he was only ever three beats behind Alan. He misplaced a foot more than once and landed awkwardly a couple of times. Not that it stopped him, even when his ankle felt more tender than it should have done. He smiled through it all, using adrenaline to power him through until they reached the end of the routine.

  The second he stopped, the pain in his ankle intensified, and he sank to the floor.

  "Mason?" David asked, his tone formal.

  "I'm fine."

  "You don't look it," Alan observed. "You've gone sheet white."

  Mason rubbed at his ankle. "It was just an awkward landing."

  "Alan, go fetch a cold pack."

  Alan nodded and hurried out of the studio.

  David knelt down beside Mason. "Let me see."

  Mason leaned back onto his hands, allowing David to lift his leg and remove his black ballet shoe.

  "Can you rotate your ankle?"

  Mason nodded and did so, though he winced as pain shot up his leg.

  "It's not swollen," David said. "But you'll need to put ice on it and keep it elevated, at least for the rest of the day."

  Mason wasn't foolish enough to argue. As much as he didn't want to sit the rest of the day out, he knew it was the sensible thing to do. Injuries were never a thing to be taken lightly. If he pushed it, he'd be unable to dance for a lot longer than a day.

  "Is the routine too hard for you?" David asked.

  "It's hard, but not too hard."

  David raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

  Mason nodded. "I dance the choreography I'm given."

  David sighed. "Yes, but I might be getting carried away with the things that Alan can do. I can tone it down."

  "There's no need." He didn't want David to have to make allowances for him. "I just need more practise."

  David sighed and moved away as Alan returned.

  "One ice pack." Alan cracked it to make it cold and then handed it to Mason.

  Mason leaned forward to hold it against his ankle, wincing from the cold more than the pain. It really wasn't that bad, just a mild twinge that ran up his leg.

  "We're done with this section for today," David said. "Make sure you stretch out, Mason. You'll be sitting and watching for the rest of the day. In the morning, I want to take another look at your ankle, and then we'll decide if you're fit to dance."

  Mason hoped he would be, but wouldn't push it if he still felt pain. He didn't want to give himself a permanent injury.

  "Let's rejoin the rest of the company," David said. "Can you walk?"

  Mason nodded and pushed himself to his feet, careful not to bear too much weight through his bad ankle.

  "I've got your bag," Alan said, retrieving Mason's and his own from where they'd dumped them close to the speakers.

  Mason only had a slight limp as they walked along the corridor to the main rehearsal room. Andrea was running the rehearsal, and Veronica was watching. When she saw them enter the room, she caught Mason's gaze before her own dropped to his ankle. She folded her arms, said something to Andrea and then strode over to the door.

  "Mason, a word, please," she said as she walked past him.

  Mason groaned internally. He knew David had spoken to her and couldn't help but wonder if it was his ankle that had prompted this conversation, or his extracurricular activities. Either way, he had no choice but to follow her. He was aware of Kirk's eyes on him as he dropped his bag with all the rest and turned to limp after Victoria.

  She led him to her office, keeping her pace slow enough for him to keep up. She shut the door behind them and motioned for him to take the chair closest to him while she took a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

  "What happened?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the desk as she thatched her fingers together.

  "I landed awkwardly out of a leap. It's not swollen. I just need to keep it iced and elevated."

  "And that's your expert opinion, is it?"

  "David's."

  She tapped her thatched fingers against her lips. "I'd like you to go to the hospital and get it checked out. I'll pay for a taxi."

  Mason wasn't going to argue with her. She was his boss, and he knew she wanted what was best for the dancers. They had too tight a schedule for him to be laid up for longer than necessary because he'd underestimated his injury. Not that he thought he had, but he understood why she wanted to be sure it was both something and nothing.

  She picked up the phone on her desk and called a taxi. "It won't be long," she told him, putting the phone down. "You can wait here."

  "I should go get my bag."

  She nodded. "Take care of that ankle. If you need to take a couple of days off, do so. I don't want you traipsing in here if you can't dance."

  He hesitated. "I should watch the rehearsals, even if I do need to rest."

  She shook her head. "You know the choreography. You can be caught up on anything you miss. I mean it, Mason. I don't want you off long-term. If the hospital tells you to rest, you will rest."

  "Okay." He resisted a flippant 'Yes, ma'am.' He might have had that kind of relationship with his previous artistic director, but he didn't know Veronica at all. Besides, now that she knew about him and David, being cheeky with her was unlikely to earn him any favours.

  He hobbled back to the rehearsal studio to
retrieve his bag. His muscles were really aching and starting to tighten up. His ankle, especially, felt quite stiff all of a sudden.

  Everyone had cleared out of the room, probably for lunch, given the amount of noise coming from the canteen a couple of doors down. His was one of the only bags left in the room, as most of the dancers had taken theirs with them. Although they could buy some food in the canteen, it was mostly sandwiches and salads, so the majority of the dancers—including Mason—brought their own food in each day.

  He leaned down to grab his bag.

  "What did Veronica want?"

  Mason almost fell over when he twisted round and up. Kirk was lounging against the door.

  "Nothing." Mason shouldered his bag.

  "Liar. She obviously wanted something."

  Mason moved slowly toward the door, hating that he'd have to go right past Kirk to leave the room. "She wants me to go get my ankle checked out at the hospital, that's all."

  Kirk narrowed his eyes. For whatever reason—paranoid guilt, perhaps—he obviously didn't believe Mason. "No one likes a snitch, you know."

  "I—" Mason shut his mouth.

  What was the point? Kirk would believe what he wanted. He hunched his shoulders, lowered his head, and kept walking past. Kirk grabbed hold of his arm.

  "Veronica ordered me a taxi. It's probably here by now," he mumbled.

  "If you can't handle the choreography, you should give up the role," Kirk told him. "You don't have enough experience, and you're sure as hell not good enough. If you were, you wouldn't have got injured."

  That was rubbish, and Mason was certain Kirk knew it. Accidents and injuries were an unfortunate part of the job.

  "I'm not giving up the role," he replied through gritted teeth. He lifted his head and glared at Kirk. "You need to get that through your thick head."

  Kirk rammed him up against the door jamb. "You'd better watch your mouth, you little shit."