27. Kale

I ordered Christian a steak,of which he ate half. I ordered us a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, which he also had half of. He didn't even need the alcohol. He'd been flying since he'd signed off on our little game for the night, and I knew there was not going to be any chance of bringing him back down. Not that I wanted to.

Christian, when he didn't care about anything besides himself, was the purest and most joyful version of himself. And I didn't mean that to say he was selfish when we played, far from it. It was the only time he was able to truly focus on himself, and if he did that by turning his attention to me, all the better.

After a short cab ride to The Black Door, I promptly walked Christian to the elevators and took him to the upper level. He was already vibrating, and while I knew he wanted to be in public to observe, I figured we'd have a little more privacy upstairs. Since he didn't have a lot of food in his stomach, but a decent amount of wine, I got him a club soda and then found us a comfortable and mostly secluded loveseat near the door to the balcony.

There was a decent enough view of the floor, some corners obscured by the trademark frosted glass partitions and pillars, but overall it was a good spot. I debated where I wanted Christian once we arrived—on the floor, beside me, or on my lap—and I decided to let him kneel by the outside of my right leg. In that position, it was easy to stroke my fingers through his hair and down the slope of his neck. His entire body had a slight tremor to it, and he leaned gently against me while he surveyed the scene in front of us.

"Fancy running into you here," a familiar voice from the side drew both of our attentions, and I found Alex with a martini in hand. He wasn't drunk, but he didn't look like himself either.

"Did you want to join us?" I asked.

"Is this your little prince?" Alex asked, taking the seat that would have been Christian's if I'd decided that was where I wanted him.

"His name is Christian, and he's taking in the sights of the city," I explained. "Christian, this is my friend, Alex."

"Christian," Alex murmured, raising his glass in toast.

"He doesn't have anything to say right now," I said before Christian was able to open his mouth. He huffed a breath that didn't quite feel like frustration…more like arousal at the reduction to inanimate object again. "Do you, Christian?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, Mr. Sheffield."

Alex chuckled, taking another sip of his drink and turning his attention back to me.

"How have you been?" I asked. "Haven't seen much of you since Beamer moved to L.A."

Alex and Beamer had started up some kind of play relationship with each other right before Beamer's magically forgotten husband had shown back up in the picture. I'd never gotten the impression things were serious between the two of them, but Alex had been a hard man to find since Beamer left for the West Coast.

"I don't know why everyone keeps asking me that," he grumbled.

"Because you disappeared after Dalton Fox showed up," I said.

At my feet, Christian let out a low whimper, his stare focused across the room toward one of the far walls where a man wore nipple clamps with the chain pulled taut between his teeth. Spit dribbled down his chin while his hips bucked madly, cum leaking from his bare cock. The man's partner was fully dressed, hand wrapped around his throat like a necklace. His shoulders were squared and his eyes sparkled when he looked at his partner. Every time the one against the wall gasped for air, the movement yanked on the nipple clamps and his dick leaked a little more.

I leaned down, resting one of my hands on Christian's shoulder and asked him, "What part of that is getting you the most riled up?"

He opened his mouth and snapped it closed like a fish, and Alex laughed at him.

"You found a good one, Kale," he said to me, pushing up from his seat and taking his drink with him. "I won't keep you from him."

"You're not keeping me," I assured him.

Sadness flashed across his face, and he didn't need to say anything else for me to realize the problem. He'd started to develop feelings for Beamer and then…well. Everything went the way it had.

"We'll catch up soon," Alex said, tipping back his glass and finishing off the rest of his martini. "Good to meet you, Christian."

Christian didn't acknowledge Alex's departure because I didn't tell him to, and that sent a wholly unexpected surge of arousal right between my legs. But as soon as Alex left, Christian found the answer to my question.

"It hurts him," he said. "But look how…"

Christian trailed off, swallowing.

"I'm listening."

"He's bearing it because it makes his partner happy," Christian went on softly. "It makes him proud."

"Which one is proud?" I asked, studying the scene across the room for the tells Christian had just called out.

"Both of them. The dominant man is looking at him like he's precious, like he's important. And he's taking on this pain so he can bring that look to his partner"s face, and…"

"It's necessary for them both," I finished.

"I think that's what love looks like," he murmured, resting his head against the side of my knee.

"Love looks like this, princess." I kicked the side of his calf with the toe of my shoe until he slid away from me, catching the hint that I wanted him to move. He had that glassy look in his eyes that I knew wasn't from the wine, and I'd never been more drunk on power than I was when Christian found himself careening toward subspace from the most basic aspects of service and submission.

"Yes, Mr. Sheffield," he whispered, chin lolling toward his chest. "This is."

"There's something on my shoe, Christian." I gave a little twist of my shoe like I was putting out an invisible cigarette beneath it. "Maybe you can get it."

He frowned, looking down at the impeccably shined leather of my black oxfords, dusting his thumb across the stitching in case there was a blemish that escaped him.

"You misunderstand me, princess," I warned, threading my fingers through the hair on the back of his head and suggesting he take a closer look. He loosed a surprisingly low growl that vibrated through both of us, feeling a lot more like need than anything else, and then he was prostrate on the ground, his mouth pressed reverently against the toe of my right shoe.

Christian kissed and licked the leather, his back arched like the most perfectly proportioned sculpture I'd ever seen before. The feeling he'd described seeing on that other man's face swelled in my chest, pushing me to tighten my fingers in his hair for a breath before letting go completely and resting my hand on his knee. Christian kept his lips against my shoe until he shifted, pressing his cheek against the spit-slicked leather and letting out a contented little whimper. I bent forward, coming as close to his level as I could manage from my position.

"You're so attentive, princess," I praised him, his hips twitching downward. "You knew exactly what I needed just then, didn't you?"

He kissed my shoe again and looked up at me from the floor, pupils shot into dark black pools that eclipsed the color of his irises entirely.

"Yes, Mr. Sheffield."

I knew the scenario wasn't the same, but I knew the sentiment would carry over. Whatever he'd watched in the scene across the room had spoken to one of the things I loved the very most about power exchange. It was a generally indescribable sense of necessity that existed between two people during any given scene. Of course, anyone could get on their knees and kiss my shoes, but no one would do it as perfectly as Christian did. There were a thousand other people that man could hold against the wall, but their pain wouldn't mean anything compared to the gift his partner gave him.

Christian had given me far more than I'd ever thought a partner could give. He'd done it all without intending to, without even trying. There were always people who talked about others to whom submission or dominance came naturally, and Christian was an example of that in the flesh. Everything about his upbringing would have predisposed him to lean into dominance in an attempt to regain some control of his life, but he was submissive down to the marrow of his bones. He'd shown me new parts of my own dominance, and I knew what he and I had was truly a once in a lifetime kind of love.

"Pull your pants down, Christian," I said, and his hands were between his legs in a flash. I was so hard for him, I couldn't think straight, and I made quick enough work of my own belt and fly. I freed my erection and held it out to him. "Come put it in your mouth how you did earlier today. I want it in the back of your throat the whole time. Do you understand me?"

I didn't have clamps and I wasn't going to get him all the way naked, so I had no choice but to work with the tools I had available. He shuffled between my legs with his pants undone, then buried his face between my legs. It took him a couple of bobs up and down my length to get the whole thing in, but I had no complaints about the work. Christian's mouth was wet and hot and eager, and he was close to getting my entire shaft into his mouth when I folded myself over his back and brought my hand down hard against his exposed ass cheek.

Christian cried out, the opening of his throat giving me the chance to push the rest of my cock into his throat. I petted my fingertips over the place I'd just spanked him, shivering when I traced my way over the gooseflesh in the shape of my palm. He moaned against me, sputtering as he tried to catch a breath around the intrusion in his mouth.

"You know how to do this," I reminded him, giving him a softer spank than the first one. "No one warms my cock as good as you do, princess. Show me how good you take my dick in your throat. That's it. There's my good boy."

At the alternate endearment, Christian whimpered, finally relaxing his throat around my shaft. I hadn't asked him to suck me off and he wasn't trying to. I could tell by the tension in his arms and the rigidity of his spine, he was only focused on trying not to throw up all over my lap. That was well and good, but I wanted more from him. I wanted that arch back. I wanted him to crave the taste of my precum against the back of his tongue as much as I was desperate to leave it there.

I spanked him again and the arch rippled through his spine before going straight again. He clearly needed some more instruction, which I had no issue providing. I knew that if he did a good job with whatever task I gave him, he'd fly headfirst into the feelings he'd been chasing after since the very first time I gave him a command.

"Right here, Christian," I said gently, rubbing my hand across the small of his back, up and down his spine. "You can do both. You can put my cock in your mouth and your ass in the air."

He mumbled some kind of protest around my dick, which I'd punish him for later, but after minimal argument, his spine curved and his breath huffed hot against the trimmed hairs at the base of my cock.

"Just like that, princess. Fuck yes. God, I love you so fucking much like this, Christian. You're a dream come true."

He hummed, the low noise jostling straight down to my balls, already heavy with the need to release.

Getting myself off at the club hadn't been on my agenda for the night. I'd wanted to take Christian out like he asked, let him watch some scenes, and then take him home. I figured we'd both leave with a hard-on and I'd take him home and fuck him until the last thing he wanted to do was have another erection. But like with most things that involved him, best laid plans and all of that.

"Make me come," I demanded.

Christian spread my thighs as wide as my pants would allow, then he swallowed around the head of my cock. His throat muscles milked my crown, the hot press of his tongue drawing shapes on the underside of my shaft until my orgasm slammed into me like a hurricane. I grunted through my release, both hands held tight on the back of his head while I shot my load past his tongue and right into his throat. He didn't choke, didn't gag, didn't sputter. He fucking swallowed and kept his puffy pink lips wrapped securely around my dick until I gave his hair a tug and pulled him off.

Tears shone in his eyes and he blinked quickly, swaying back and forth on his knees. My hand still threaded through his hair was the only thing holding him up and his stare finally focused on me. With a long blink, a slow smile spread across Christian's lips, spit shining on his chin.

"Thank you," he whispered, lashes fluttering as his eyes fell closed. "Thank you, Mr. Sheffield."

"Christian."

He kept his eyes closed, sucking in a slow and deep breath through his nose. I released his hair, cradling his face in my hand. He leaned his weight into me, looking like he was the one who'd just gotten off, not me. Christian licked his lips and nodded, not saying a word.

There were a lot of things I'd understood about the kind of man, the kind of submissive Christian was. But one thing I hadn't taken into account was all the ways his submission was going to call into direct focus the kind of dominant man I was. Or more than that, the kind of man I wanted to be.

I wanted to be the kind of man who deserved a man like him.

And that was why I knew sending him away in two days was going to be the hardest thing I'd ever do.