Love Is Proud Page 25

  Eliot stirred, so slightly he could still have been asleep, and pressed his ass against Michael’s erection. After a few contented sighs, he resumed the steadier breaths that meant slumber.

  Michael checked the clock—they’d had six hours of sleep. Since he could get by well enough on that, he made an executive decision that it was enough for a boy with such a nice ass. He wrapped his arms around Eliot and tightened his grip before slipping his cock between Eliot’s legs, nudging his balls.

  “Whazzat?” Eliot said.

  “Good, you’re awake. I’ve got something for you.”

  “I hope it’s breakfast, or coffee, at least.”

  Is he kidding? I get him not being very submissive in the morning, but not even horny? Okay, we did it for hours before crashing—it’s not like we’re teenagers. He’s got to be at least five or six years younger than me, in his early or mid-thirties. Hoping the second try would work better, Michael offered, “If you left me any juice, I’ve got your appetizer here.” Eliot had spent considerable time last night sucking him off, and he’d seemed to enjoy it even more than Michael had.

  Eliot turned to face Michael with an expression more befitting a man heading for the office than one hoping to stay in bed. “Does it come with coffee?”

  Unsure if Eliot was teasing, Michael attempted a joke of his own. “Not usually,” he replied, and paused to see if Eliot got it, hoping he didn’t sound as disappointed as he was starting to feel in light of Eliot’s apparent lack of interest. Is Eliot awake enough to notice how much I want him? Does he care? With that body, he obviously doesn’t think about food all the time.

  “Didn’t think so.” To Michael’s relief, Eliot continued, “I sometimes take my cream before my coffee anyway.” He turned toward Michael and scooted down the bed, tossing the covers aside before sliding his lips over Michael’s erection.

  “That’s a good boy.”

  “Mmmm.”

  Gone were the “sirs” that had been so plentiful the previous night. At a nonverbal level, though, Eliot was unmistakably still interested in doing what Michael wanted. With a firm but gentle hand on the back of Eliot’s head, Michael urged Eliot to take his cock deeper.

  Eliot didn’t retreat, but did tense up noticeably. Fine. Be that way. Michael relaxed his hold and instead carded his fingers through Eliot’s hair as Eliot maneuvered himself into a better position for serious deep-throating. Submissive in the morning or not, the man knows his way around a cock. Eliot’s sounds of pleasure, as well as his talented lips and tongue, fueled Michael’s arousal. He soon tried guiding Eliot again, more subtly this time, and detected no resistance. It wasn’t because Eliot was especially obedient—after many years of blowjobs from submissives, Michael could tell the difference. Eliot was, it seemed, simply enjoying himself.

  Thoroughly drained and licked clean, Michael opened his eyes to find Eliot sitting up, head cocked, grinning. “You look pleased with yourself, boy.”

  “Shouldn’t I be? I give great head.”

  “That you do. Lie back down.” At Eliot’s not-taking-orders-now look, he added,” Please.” Eliot held Michael’s gaze a moment before dropping back into spooning position with an impatient wriggle against Michael’s soft cock. “I thought all you wanted was breakfast.”

  “I’ve decided I agree with you, sir.”

  “Excellent!” And the first “sir” of the day. Michael cupped Eliot’s balls, caressing lazily. “I need to ask you something first. What happened to the, um, well-mannered sub I took home? Not that you’re rude or anything. Just different. This not a full-time thing for you?”

  “Actually, it is, when possible. But not as a sub.”

  “Oh?” The gentle movement of his fingers on Eliot’s balls came to a sudden halt. Eliot had certainly done a convincing job of not just playing at being a bottom.

  Eliot rolled over onto his back and locked eyes with Michael. “I have my sub moments, like last night, but I’m usually a dom.”

  Michael looked away. “I didn’t think to ask. Sorry if I’ve been assuming too much.”

  “I’ll forgive you if you keep touching me.” Ignoring how foolish he felt, Michael wrapped his hand around Eliot’s cock, and Eliot continued, “Seriously, it’s not a problem. You gave me what I wanted, like you’re doing now.” Michael ran his thumb over the already-wet head. “More, please…Oh yeah, that’s good…Hey, why’d you stop?”

  “If it’s not asking too much, I’d like to see how your ass looks. The Braille method told me you’ve got some nice marks.”

  “You sadists are all alike,” Eliot said with an exaggerated eye roll.

  “We are. Now roll over.” When Eliot merely gave him a cheeky stare, Michael added, “Please. You like messing with me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” A beat. “Sir,” Eliot said before presenting his ass for review.

  Michael fingered the marks, dark pink lines with deeper color here and there, a few still slightly welted. He kissed one of the small bruises left by the cane tip. “Still hurt?”

  “A little. In a good way.”

  Michael gave the cheek in question a hard squeeze, followed by a slap on the opposite side.

  “Hey! That hurts!”

  “You said you wanted me to keep touching you. That wasn’t very specific. Spread your legs like a good boy and I’ll play nice.” Michael wanted to play like they had last night. He wanted Eliot to submit, not question, not demand, even if it was only a role he rarely assumed. After a few seconds of delay, Eliot parted his legs. “Thank you. Wider.” Michael licked his thumbs and pressed them against Eliot’s ass, coaxing it open as he massaged the marked cheeks with his other fingers.

  Eliot writhed under him, rubbing his cock against the mattress. “More, please, sir.”

  “That’s the good boy I brought home.” Michael spread lube on Eliot’s ass and eased in one finger, then a second. Eliot moaned and clenched against Michael’s hand as he continued to grind shamelessly against the bedding.

  Michael pumped a generous dollop of lube onto his free hand and grasped Eliot’s cock. “Are you sure you don’t want breakfast instead?”

  “Very sure, sir.”

  He gave Eliot a few strokes and said, “I’ve noticed a correlation between your ass being filled and your use of sir.”

  Eliot muttered, “That’s what I get for boinking an accountant.”

  “Speak up, boy, I couldn’t quite hear that.”

  “That feels awesome, sir, thank you, sir.”

  Michael finished him off efficiently and slid out his fingers. When Eliot whimpered at the loss, Michael gave his sweaty ass a few slaps. “You were the one on his way to the office.”

  “Mmmm.”

  Michael located the hand towel he had dropped on the bed earlier and swiped at some stray lube on Eliot’s thigh. “We should probably get showers.”

  “Yeah. Sorry to spoil whatever plans you had for us, but I wasn’t kidding about the coffee—before the shower, if you don’t mind. I’ve been short on sleep all week and I’ll have to stop in the office for a while before I go home. Not a complaint—spending time with you was definitely worth skimping on sleep for one more night.”

  “Sorry I didn’t let you sleep longer, but I can at least help with getting you fueled up. I’m hungry, too. Very hungry, for some strange reason. I’m having eggs, turkey sausage, and a bagel, but I can make oatmeal or frozen waffles. And coffee, of course.”

  “What you’re having sounds good.”

  * * * *

  Eliot followed Michael into the kitchen and helped with the few tasks Michael was willing to delegate, mostly toasting bagels and setting the table. While more than happy to forgo the sleep he needed, Michael was tired and not feeling up to having a serious discussion of Eliot’s submission or lack thereof. To avoid that topic and the related one of his own perspective on switching, which he was even less prepared to explain, Michael asked, “So, what exactly is that business you have—printing or something?”
Eliot had mentioned a business the previous night, though Michael couldn’t remember the details to save his life, and people were usually happy enough to talk about their work.

  “We do all sorts of printing, design, and web projects. I’ve built up a sizable clientele from the BDSM community, sometimes just business and social cards, but I’ve done a few web sites. It’s not all adult content, but that’s getting to be a big part of my work.”

  “Impressive, and you’re lucky to be mixing business with pleasure. It’s not so easy at our accounting firm, even though I enjoy my work. I think one of the admin staff is kinky, but I have no idea how to bring up the topic.”

  “I carry a handcuff key on my regular key ring. You could drop your keys in a spot where that person will probably see them and pick them up. A kinky person is more likely to notice.”

  “I like that, thanks.”

  While eating, they covered other neutral topics, including Michael’s interest in photography and the eclectic neighborhood where Eliot lived. Michael didn’t ask for any details when Eliot mentioned having space for a dungeon that he hadn’t yet made time to equip. If Eliot was a dom most of the time, it could be handy having a friend with a well-appointed dungeon. The problem was that Michael wasn’t especially interested in gaining a buddy, even one with an awesome playroom. He wanted more from Eliot, at least from the Eliot he had brought home.

  Over their second cup of coffee, Eliot asked the question Michael had been anticipating but still wasn’t ready to fully answer. “Do you ever bottom?”

  “Not exactly.” Michael silently poured more milk into his coffee. He didn’t want to explain his occasional masochistic urges, nor what he did about them. It wouldn’t really matter what Eliot thought, of course, and Michael didn’t see anything wrong with the intricate warp and weft of his own desires, but he wanted to keep things simple for now. On the other hand, now implied the existence of later, which wouldn’t necessarily be simple at all. Could two doms date? Should they? He needed time to wrap his head around all this, to analyze the possibilities. It wasn’t just that Eliot was the hottest man he’d had in his bed in years, and extremely likable in the bargain; he and Michael seemed to fit well together despite their differences, or maybe because of them. Well, except for Eliot being something of a smartass, which Michael didn’t especially like in subs, but since Eliot wasn’t a sub…

  Eliot interrupted his musings with, “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s complicated,” said Michael, spitting out the word that was rattling around inside his head.

  Displaying more patience than Michael imagined he probably felt at that point, Eliot explained, “If we’re going to try dating, I’ll need to know if you switch. I mean, we’re doms. We need our other halves to be subs or bottoms, at least some of the time. It’s the way of things.”

  “There’s vanilla, you know.”

  “And your point would be…?”

  “I guess there isn’t one. You’re right. You’re going to need a sub. Well, both of us will. I really wasn’t cut out to be the obedient sort, although I’ll play at the bottom role once in a while. But I just don’t see myself as your boy outside the bedroom, and not often in the bedroom.”

  “That’s progress.”

  “What?”

  “Admitting you bottom. Sometimes. In a limited fashion. I can work with that.”

  Admitting? Did I make it sound like subbing is something to hide? “It’s just not as simple for me as it seems to be for you.”

  “Right, I don’t find it complicated, or at least not in a bad way. I like getting what I want and sometimes that happens with me bent over the furniture. I enjoy the power exchange, even when it flows in a convoluted circuit. Maybe even more when it does.”

  “I can work with that. Do you have a regular sub?”

  “Not now. That’s a long story, but I can tell you I miss—”

  Reaching for another sausage, Michael accidentally knocked over Eliot’s mug of barely-started coffee, drenching Eliot’s lap. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry! I’ll get a towel.”

  “I should spank you for that.”

  Suddenly wanting to broach the topic, but unwilling to sound wishful, Michael simply said, “Not a bad idea.” He held the towel indecisively over Eliot’s wet crotch, considering whether he should hand it to him or just plunge in and start wiping.

  Eliot took the towel and blotted the damp fabric. “Really? I was kidding. Sort of.”

  “Good thing your pants and the coffee are black. And it wasn’t still hot.”

  “Thanks, but please don’t change the subject.”

  Michael sighed and busied himself with the soiled towel and Eliot’s refill while he answered. “Well, the domestic discipline lifestyle is, um, attractive, in some ways. It’s usually more of a dom/sub thing, but it could work with two doms. You don’t need to be a sub to be subject to punishment for a real offense.”

  “That’s kind of hot. I’ve never done that sort of thing. You’ve given this some thought before. When I’m not rushing off to work we should discuss it.”

  “Sounds like we have an agenda item for our next date. Justin’s friend Paul is having a party next week. I could make us a light dinner first. You never know what sort of food people will bring. That’ll give us time to talk. What do you think?”

  “I think you like a lot of structure in your life.” Michael gave him a disapproving look. “I mean, that sounds perfect. I’d love to. Thank you. Oh, but wouldn’t it be my turn to feed you?”

  “You can bring something.”

  “Deal.”

  * * * *

  Soon after Eliot left, Michael called Justin to thank him for both the party and the introduction to an intriguingly kinky play partner. Trying not to sound accusatory, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me Eliot was a dom? Or a switch. Whatever.”

  Justin chuckled. “And spoil the surprise?” In response to Michael’s serious silence he continued, “Look, he wanted to be immersed in the sub role that night. Not my place to spill his beans.”

  “I felt a bit foolish in the morning.”

  “Sorry. Couldn’t be helped. Hopefully the fun made up for it.”

  “Definitely. We’re going to date, starting with Paul’s party.”

  “Really? You always said you wanted to marry a sub.”

  “I said date, not marry.”

  “But I know you. You’re the domestic sort.”

  “I’d have to agree with that.” Michael was fairly certain Justin meant “domestic” only in the conventional sense. He’d never told anyone, except Master Richard, that he liked to do anything other than top. “Over the years, I’ve learned not to say never. There’s something about him that seems like a good fit. I’ve got nothing to lose by trying.”

  “Couldn’t you be setting yourself up for disappointment? Or frustration? I’ve known you for five years…”

  “We’d be able to find subs at parties, or maybe even one to share at home. What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t count the number of times you said you wanted to wake up knowing you’d get blown if you wanted it, and knowing that your desires, not to mention your dick, came first.”

  “Eliot loves sucking cock. Are you trying to talk me out of dating him?”

  “No, just bringing up some points for your consideration. As your friend.”

  Michael took a deep breath, intending to quell any annoyance in his tone before speaking again. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll be careful with my expectations.” What Michael didn’t comment on was Justin’s tendency to be suspicious of switches. That had to be part of what was going on. He wondered what Justin would think if he knew about Michael’s visits with Master Richard.

  “If nothing else, it’ll be interesting,” Justin conceded. “You’ve obviously had fun so far. He’s sexy as hell, and, as you know, plenty kinky.”

  “Honestly, I haven’t explored much of his repertoire yet. Something to look forward to.”

 
; * * * *

  The sound of a car in the driveway ended Michael’s reminiscing and jolted him forward eight years. He lit the candles and slid them a few more inches away from the centerpiece flowers. Seconds before a key turned in the lock, Michael remembered to tuck the gift-wrapped box behind a sofa cushion.

  Eliot dropped his keys on the table by the door and gathered his husband in his arms.

  “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

  * * * *

  ABOUT DILO KEITH

  For Dilo Keith, writing kinky erotic fiction is the latest manifestation of a lifelong fascination with sex and multi-decadal interest in BDSM. It felt great the first time, so Dilo did it again, first alone, later with friends, and eventually in public. Published works include queer short stories, a novelette, and academic papers about sexuality. For more information, visit dilokeith.wordpress.com/blog-2/.

  Justin is one of the main characters in Make Mine to Go, published by JMS Books. Paul makes a brief appearance therein. Eliot and Michael appear with their sub Jamie in short stories published elsewhere and in Dilo’s collection of works in progress.

  Coming Home by Shawn Lane

  We’d had the fight two days ago. We hadn’t spoken to each other since, even by texts. Two days probably wouldn’t seem like a lot to most people. But to us, it was.

  I’d met Jared Landon nine months ago. Our initial meeting had been fraught with stress and had hardly been conducive to eventually dating. Jared was a firefighter whose station had been called to an accident scene. I was a nurse who had stopped to see if I could lend a hand.

  From there we started talking and somehow, perhaps on purpose, I had let it slip I was gay. I was more than a little surprised when Jared asked me out. Not exactly because he was gay, but more that someone who looked like him—all muscles and chiseled jaw, and sky blue eyes—would want to go out with someone like me.

  We’d been together ever since, really. We hadn’t had sex that first time, though it had been a near thing, but on our second date we did, and more often than not I was at Jared’s apartment or he was at mine.