La Maison 2: Differences (Complete: BDSM mxm)

January 6

A/N: if you haven't read La Maison #1 (and preferably on Amazon for the most relevant version 😉) - Gray's long term sub betrayed him, hence Landon's concern for his well-being. 

Landon

I'm worried about Gray. He told me what had happened with Liam but I couldn't say much to console him. I don't know how it feels to have someone betray trust like that. I tried to convince him to come to the club, but he easily batted my requests away, chuckling at my pleading. Frankie has some kind of problem he won't talk about too – but it relates to his business so fortunately I'm not that interested; he asked me to help him with Nikolai's training, so I decided to embrace that instead, feeling as though it would be a good way to take my mind off Gray's problems.

I work long hours but have enough control of them that I can always make sure I have Saturday evenings free, so I agree to meet Nikolai at the club.

"Master François didn't tell me why you wanted me to give you some training, Nikolai, what is it you want me to help with?" I ask that delicious boy when he's knelt neatly between my thighs in the VIP area. He looks up at me with large blue orbs, lightly nibbling his full lower lip in a way that sends all sorts of signals straight to my cock.

"Sir, Master François suggested that I need to spend some time with Dominants other than him, so I don't become too tied to what his expectations are."

"And how do you find his expectations?" I ask, intrigued.

"He's strict Sir. Not as much on me as he is on Ellis; but quite strict." The fact that he's stern is no surprise, as he's renowned for it, though for Nikolai to consider François easier on him than Ellis, I presume he's been doing a good job and not getting punished too much. That's handy, considering none of the many things I want to do to this very sexy boy include heavy punishment.

"Did you choose me, Nikolai, or did Master François suggest it?" He flushes then, unusually, his eyes going back to the floor between his spread knees.

"I chose you, Sir," he whispers huskily, so quiet I'm leaning further forward to hear him. I decide to accept that shyness that doesn't feel characteristic, if for no other reason than he's allowed – if a submissive can't have a moment of coyness then who the hell can? Well, a Dominant can't.

"I'm glad, Nikolai. I would have chosen you too if Master François had asked me." He can't help the smile, even though he's still looking at the floor, and I'm not going to wait any longer.

I do ask Nikolai's approval before taking him to my playroom. Some Doms don't work that way; lots, in fact, just rely on safewording. They demand and expect compliance, reasoning that the subs would just safeword if they didn't want to do something. I can understand that control being part of the kink, but hey, I can have 'consent' as a kink, can't I? Everything else seems to be pretty wrapped up these days. Those same Doms have this strange belief that the lifestyle precludes feeling pressured, or obligated. Technically, I suppose, it does. The boys are taught over and over again that they are the ones in control, that one word from them and things stop or slow down, and that they can change direction any time they want. But the subs are just as human as the Doms, so it's important to not forget that, to a good many of them, feeling out of control is part of what turns them on. They gladly give up that power that they're supposed to keep such strong hold of, but just giving up the power doesn't impede the negative emotions that can arise afterward. I know that better than many.

"May I bind you, Nikolai?" I ask him when we get to the playroom, and I like the shiver of pleasure that runs through him when he says yes. He's so pretty, I just really want to play with him and make him moan. I remind him that I will be pleased if he uses if safewords if he needs to, though I will also rely heavily on monitoring his reactions and looking for signs of discomfort. Once he's on his back on the bed, I use wide red webbing straps to wrap his thighs and pull them up so they're running alongside his obliques, before strapping his forearms to his calves, his hands gripping his feet as they point to the ceiling. Bent almost in half like this, he's fantastically exposed; his strong thigh muscles taut and his tight, muscular ass forced wide and vulnerable.

I just play with him for a while, covering his aquamarine eyes with a leather-backed blindfold and running sensory toys over his body, loving how he pants in pleasure and holds his breath every time I replace one item with another. I run the pinwheel up his posterior thigh muscles, seeing how they jump and quiver; noting how pressing hard makes him moan and going light and ticklish has him buck. Feathers across his abdominals have him swearing in his own language and I'm thankful my bindings hold at his full body reaction when I finally run a vibrator against his perineum.

My own cock is uncomfortably hard against my leathers and I can see glistening juices at his tip, but I'm not surprised he isn't begging for more. Though it's not always how he plays personally, I know Frankie teaches subs that their pleasure belongs to their Dom, so they mustn't come without permission and they shouldn't beg unless they know their Dom doesn't mind it. Well, I'm not of that mindset at all.

"Do you have anything you'd like to ask me, Nikolai?" I growl close to his ear as I dip the narrow vibe in a pot of lube by my side, and he gasps at my sudden proximity.

"Sir?" he questions.

"Say what's on your mind, Nikolai," as I thrust the narrow object past his clenching hole, giving it a slight flick so I know it's pressing right against his excitable gland. He lets out a pleasured scream as I slide it in minute stroking motions.

"Please, Sir, please," he finally lets out when he's managed to get used to it, although his back is jumping off the bed as he rocks and mewls.

"Is this what you want?" I question, my sheathed cock positioned against him when I finally pull the toy away, leaving him glistening with sweat and panting.

"Please, yes, Sir, do it," his voice is high in desperation as I slam forward, needing to be inside him, needing to feel what that silver vibrating toy couldn't. He screams again, mumbling 'tak, tak', which seems to be a good thing, based on the look of ecstasy on his face. He feels amazing; tight walls clutching at me, his hips, despite their binding, meeting each of my thrusts until I can feel his breathing getting panicked and his tunnel clenching more desperately, and I know he's trying not to come.

"Beg me, Nikolai," I purr as I grip his thigh.

"Please, Sir, let me come," and his begging is so beautiful, back to his husky tones, and I gladly let him, though unprepared for the sensation of him releasing and dragging my own from me with the power of his reaction.

When I've unfastened his bonds and cleaned up, he's laying peacefully, resting against the headboard, taking sips of water. Even if it wasn't necessary for his training, I'd still want to know how he felt about where I led him in the scene, so I ask him, and he looks slightly surprised. I know why. Doms will check on wellbeing and make sure their subs' heads' are in the right place after a scene, but there's so much overweening confidence necessary in being dominant that they don't see the need to actually check in on the physical aspects. I do, and it isn't because I'm not confident – I am, I know I can rock their little worlds with a well-placed flick of my hips, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve to give their feedback.

"It was great, Sir, I really loved the feeling of fighting against the restraints when you were making my skin so sensitive." See, that's why. It's important information, and something I can use to drive him even more delightfully mad if I get to scene with him again, which I hope I do.

"When we were playing, you kept saying 'tak', what does it mean?" I ask.

"It's 'yes', Sir," he grins.

"Oh, so you aren't Russian?"

"I'm Belarussian, Sir. Though I can speak Russian too, if you would prefer it," he says with a cheeky glint.

"Sassy," I murmur, "but your own language is perfect for me. It's very sexy to hear you speaking it."

"Thank you, Sir. Dziakuj, Ser," he smiles, his clear sky eyes looking into mine.