“Oui, M’sieur. Sir.” He reckoned they was both his to Sir, and it felt right, so he was following his heart, such as it was.
He stopped to wash his hands and face at the kitchen sink, cleaning himself so that he was ready to be whatever they asked of him.
When he got back to the bedroom with the waters Chou was kneeling at the far end of the room, and M’sieur was waiting for him next to Chou’s floor cushion. “Thank you, little one. Put the waters on the nightstand please and come here to me.”
“Yes, M’sieur.” Weren’t they so pretty? One blond and broad as the sun itself and the other lean and dark, sharp and wicked in his smile.
“Beautiful boy.” Sure hands started to undress him. Without another word M’sieur bared him and set his clothes in a neat pile with his shoes. Once he was naked M’sieur’s fingers ghosted over his muscle and slid over his skin, exploring.
“Oh…” His belly rippled, and he swayed. That touch was featherlight, and he felt dizzy.
“You are lovely, Alain. I hope you know that.” M’sieur pressed a soft kiss to his nape.
He went up on his tiptoes. “M’sieur…”
Chou chuckled softly. “He likes that.”
“I see that.” M’sieur’s voice was soft and low. “What else does he like? This, maybe?” Teeth closed gently over his ear lobe.
All his air escaped him in a rush, and his body felt like lightning flashed through his brain.
“Mmm. That too.” M’sieur led him to the cushion and helped him kneel. “There’s plenty of that coming for good boys.” After walking a slow circle around him, Sir stopped in front of him, the bulge in those jeans real and hungry. “But first, a question. Tell me about your art.”
“My art?” Now? M’sieur wanted to talk about his silly pictures now?
“Yes. You told us you do some performance art and some painting. You said you came here for your art.”
“I did. I thought I was—” Talented. Special. But he’d learned better, and quickly. “—going to do it for a living, but that isn’t going to happen. I painted, did some body painting, even some living statue stuff. Once I was in a window as a decoration.”
“You must have been a stunning model. Creating art for a living is difficult, but why aren’t you still painting?” M’sieur walked in a slow circle around him again, close enough to touch, but not touching.
“Supplies are expensive for a hobby. I might will after I get me a good job.” He enjoyed it, and he missed it, but now wasn’t the time.
M’sieur touched his back, fingers sliding across his shoulders so deliberately it felt like a reward. “That sounds like a good plan. I’d like to see your work.”
Oh, M’sieur was classy. Chou, though, he seemed like the dogs playing poker type. Chou would hang his painting up. “Oui, M’sieur.”
“Your Doms…the ones you were with before the two that hurt you, how did you meet them? How did you know you could trust them?”
“Oh, Bene was…he wasn’t like y’all or Master Cyrus a bit.” Bene had found him on the quarter, had been a presence, a little scary, a lot magical. He’d read Alain’s palm, then taken him to a little room, spanked his ass, and fucked him ’til he screamed. He’d never known that there was a Dom that wasn’t about psychics and magic and witchcraft ’til he’d come here.
“Bene was your first Dom? And what about after you got here?”
“I just…played a little, but it was hard because I didn’t know where to be. Mostly I stayed with my own circles.” It was different, making friends in a big place, learning all the rules, finding a spot.
“And what did all of that—leaving aside the abuse—teach you about being a sub? What’s important to you?”
“Taking good care. I like being naughty—not evil, not mean, just naughty now—and getting my butt warmed. I like to play, but I’m not a bad man. I won’t hurt no one’s heart for love or money.”
“You’re a good man, Alain. We know that, I promise. You don’t have to worry. I think we can agree that we’re all well-intentioned and that we care about one another. That’s never in question.” Those fingers touched him again, longer this time and harder, working into the muscles in his shoulders.
“Mmm…” He rolled under the touch and let his head fall forward as he enjoyed it.
“So you’re into sensation.” M’sieur moved around him again and opened the trunk at the end of the bed. He returned with a flogger that had brown and white fuzzy falls.
“Look at those…” They were…snugglable. Was that a thing? Snuggly?
“Feel them.” M’sieur placed the falls in his fingers and let him pet them. He buried his face in them a little, the plush, baby softness making him sigh. That made both Sirs chuckle. “Nice, right?”