Florentine (MM)


Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 68,451
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Mahiro became a professional figure skater for one reason -- the object of his lust from the time he was a teenager, Alex Breschi. But he never advanced far enough for Alex to notice him. Now Alex is retired from skating and working as a thriller author, while Mahiro gracefully bowed out of competition to become a successful app developer and professional Dom in New York City.

Reality and fantasy collide at a penthouse play party when Mahiro meets his idol. Alex is researching a book, and he wants to learn more about the lifestyle. In fact, he wants to be trained as a submissive. By Mahiro.

Mahiro knows it's a terrible idea. He's hardly objective, and Alex is a novice. Still, all those years of longing shatter his reserve, and he cannot refuse to have the man of his dreams in his hands. He's going to make sure Alex notices him now. It's only a business arrangement, and since Alex is returning to Russia in a few months, Mahiro can have some fun without divulging his past ... or his obsession. What does he have to lose?

Just his heart.

Florentine (MM)
0 Ratings (0.0)

Florentine (MM)


Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 68,451
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Written Ink Designs

"Hand me that pen," he says casually, indicating the pen they'd been using, which is across the table from Alex and right next to Mahiro.

"It's ... right there," Alex says, puzzled. Alex would have to scoot forward and lean over to get it and give it to him, whereas it's less than a foot from Mahiro's hand.

"Mmmm. So it is. But I told you to hand it to me."

Alex catches on immediately. He leans forward, swipes the pen from the table, and tosses it to Mahiro, who catches it with narrowed eyes.

"That's not what I said, Alex," he purrs. His voice has dropped and carries a quiet, steely edge. "I told you to hand it to me. Be polite."

Oh God. Alex swallows carefully and slowly returns to his position on the other end of the couch. The afternoon sun is dazzling and warm on his shoulders, and his gut is starting to buzz with tingling anticipation. Is this how they start? This careful exploration? What should he do now?

"I'm sorry?" he says, voice rising with his uncertainty, and flinches.

Mahiro smiles. "Very good." He kicks out a foot and pushes the table away from the sofa, before sliding down a bit and crossing his legs, his gaze now intense and focused. "Kneel for me, Alex. You have lovely posture. Let me see it."

Alex blinks. "Um. Not to be disrespectful, but these pants are --"

"You might want to reconsider," Mahiro says, careful and sharp. Alex takes the warning for what it is and slips down to his knees and prays to the dry cleaning gods for their understanding. Mahiro stands and draws closer, slowly walking around him and scrutinizing Alex's body.

"What you think about my requests doesn't matter, Alex," Mahiro says and pulls Alex's shoulders back slightly so his chest is pushed out and head tipped up. Alex is abruptly reminded of his ballet classes. "You're here to please me, to satisfy me. Is that clear?"


"Yes, sir," Mahiro prompts.

Alex swallows. "Yes, sir," he says, and the words feel slightly strange on his tongue. He's called many people sir or ma'am in his life, but it never felt quite like this. "But what do I get for doing what you tell me?"

Mahiro chuckles. "Your pride, for now. Chris wouldn't have even thought twice, and you're competitive with him, I think. But later? It could be many things."

Alex shifts on his knees. They're starting to hurt, his toes awkward in his shoes where they're pressed against the hard stone of the patio. Mahiro stills him with a hand on his shoulder, the heat bleeding through the fabric of his shirt, and leans close to Alex's ear.

"Would you like me to fuck you?" he says, and goose bumps erupt along Alex's entire body.

"Um, well, I --" Mahiro moves to stand in front of him until the front of his jeans is less than six inches from Alex's face. "Or maybe you'd like to suck me off?"

Alex's entire field of vision is nothing but denim and the edge of a blue T-shirt, and he can't make out a single twitch, or even a slight thickening behind it. Is Mahiro even turned on by this at all? Alex's hard and he's horrified he's leaving a wet spot.

"Kiss me?" Alex bites out, desire blurring away any last reservations he might have had.

Mahiro closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "No, not on the mouth," he says. "But other places."

Alex is immediately disappointed.

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