20. Akira

CHAPTER 20

Akira

" W hat does this mean?" Kyle asked, prying Akira's hand from the railing and tracing the kanji tattooed on the inside of his right wrist. Sunlight sparkled in his blonde hair, making it look lighter than usual, and Akira found it hard to tear his gaze away. "I've wondered about it since I met you."

"Couldn't you just look it up on your...?"

Akira trailed off awkwardly as he remembered Kyle's runepad wasn't nearly sophisticated enough to trawl a search engine for obsolete and illegal Japanese symbols. The cheap piece of rubbish didn't even do calls or vids.

Kyle smirked, his fingers tightening warningly around Akira's wrist and making him shiver.

"Careful, Master," he purred, his voice laced with subtle, yet thrilling, threat. "You sound like an entitled Upper."

Akira swallowed down his usual urge to deflect such comments, and wet his lips. He'd given Kyle his name earlier, and that represented a commitment he was determined to honour. As much as the other man should be running away from him as far and fast as he could, Akira had let himself get too deep. He might as well throw himself in the rest of the way.

"I spent nearly two years up on Xerxes' surface," he admitted quietly, forcing the words out past his instinctive need to keep such information private. This was Kyle , and if Akira wanted any chance with him at all, he knew he had to start opening up.

Emotionally, that was, because fuck, opening up for the man physically was a thousand times easier. If only sex could be used in place of words: Akira would tell the man everything he felt for him in every shift of his body against his, in every fervent kiss, and every soft moan.

Kyle's blue eyes widened with curiosity. "You lived on the surface? I didn't know that," he said in wonder, as if Akira wasn't acutely aware of everything he'd kept from him. "When?"

"Between leaving my old House…Theta," he clarified when Kyle immediately began to pester him with questions. "I used to work for Master Theta."

Kyle's mouth formed a silent oh .

Akira wondered what stories his staff were exposed to from the other Houses. There would always be industry gossip, but it was rarely shared between staff and employer, perhaps in the belief that the Masters were close enough for it to be directly relayed back to the owner of the House in question. If only the employees knew how little the Masters truly cared for each other, despite the saccharine name of the Coterie.

Although Akira did consider Theta a… strong acquaintance , considering all the older man had done for him over the years. Perhaps even a mentor.

He wouldn't call him a friend. Akira didn't have friends: just people he used, those he tolerated, and those he avoided.

And then there was Kyle, in a league of his own and far out of Akira's.

But right now he was here – eyes bright, body turned towards him, and eagerly lapping up each word Akira spoke. Kyle shot out another half dozen questions about his time at House Theta, barely seeming to take a breath before launching into the next. Each one was dutifully answered.

It felt…surprisingly good to talk to Kyle about this. Akira's throat was raw, like he was breathing frigid air, but the wriggling nest of fear in his stomach that always squirmed around when he was being too honest – too trusting – remained mostly dormant.

"May I continue?" he asked dryly when the blonde opened his mouth once more.

Kyle adopted an expression of false imperiousness and waved a haughty hand. "I have decided you may continue. And do stop getting distracted, won't you?"

The Dominant in Akira wanted to smack him for his impudence. The submissive in him wanted to sink to the grated floor and rest his head against Kyle's leg in the hope he'd be petted.

Epsilon swallowed, forcing himself to remain still and not do either thing.

But Kyle – fucking Kyle, wonderful, amazing Kyle – seemed to effortlessly pick up on the sudden tension in him, and resolve it.

"Chide me as my boss," Kyle murmured, stretching out his neck and gazing at the sky above like he didn't have a care in the world. "And then apologise profusely."

"You forget who you're talking to," snapped Akira, his tone sharp and admonishing, but he was already lowering his head in submission. He contritely kissed the back of his Dom's hand where it rested on the sun-warmed railing at chest height, and melted when he felt Kyle's fingers trail lightly through his hair.

"I could never forget," whispered Kyle. His grip tightened to keep Akira from rising. "After leaving Theta?" he prompted.

Akira dipped his head, the movement tugging painfully on his hair when the hand fisted in it didn't let go. He wanted to feel it again, so he nodded a second time, not caring how it looked. Kyle gave a pleased hum.

"Between working for Master Theta and establishing House Epsilon just over five years ago," Akira told him, "I held a full slave contract with an Upper. A live-in contract," he added, remembering the high-rise apartment and the breathtaking views of Xerxes it offered. Remembering the sun ; not limited to a snatched, illegal moment like this, but feeling its warm rays for hours every day.

Kyle huffed. "Some rich prick had you as his 24/7 slave?" His touch turned tender, stroking behind Akira's ears and down his neck.

He preened into it, enjoying the attention.

"It wasn't bad," Akira murmured, unsure why he felt the need to assure him of that. He didn't need anyone's pity, and Kyle shared both his industry and lifestyle. "Good money."

Excellent money, for what it had required of him: the client had been a reclusive, almost shy type, which meant he hadn't shown his slave off publicly or taken him to any of the Upper parties Akira had previously frequented. With only one man to serve, even being the client's full-time domestic servant and fucktoy had given Akira plenty of rest and leisure time, and he'd been allowed to visit the building's gym on occasion. The only thing he'd found difficult to deal with was the boredom.

"I still don't like it," muttered Kyle, tugging Akira closer but pushing him down to his knees so his bent spine could have relief. His face was pressed into his Sir's thigh, and Akira hid his smile in the smooth, warm leather.

That hadn't been disgust in Kyle's voice, but rather pure, unadulterated jealousy .

Akira wasn't above a little harmless manipulation.

In fact, he got off on it.

"Aside from clothes, which at first I wasn't permitted," he added casually, pleased with the irritated noise it drew from the man standing over him, "I had everything I wanted. It might have begun with the client wanting a slave but I had him eating out of my hand within three months, begging my permission to eat, piss, and come."

Akira let another smile seize his mouth, this one drenched with sadistic gratification, and Kyle eagerly pried his face from his leg as if anticipating the expression he'd find on it. He knew him too damn well, despite Akira's efforts over the past five years to keep distance between them.

"Of course you did," Kyle said fondly. Akira's knees were sore from where the metal grating was digging in through his trousers, and he relished the feeling even as he winced from the pain. "And I bet you refused him half the time just so you could punish him for disobeying, didn't you?"

"More than half," admitted Akira. It had been satisfying to finally be the one in charge; not just for occasional hour-long sessions here and there when Theta had reluctantly allowed him to see clients as a Dominant and not a submissive, but fully in control of what he was doing with his own body for days at a time. Akira didn't mind gifting his submission to another – in fact he adored it – but it was nice not to have it forced from him for a while. "I could have stayed there and lived like a king."

Everyone else who had heard that story, although admittedly a short list, had asked why he didn't.

Kyle just ran gentle fingertips down Akira's neck and tugged at his shirt collar.

"You weren't happy," he said simply and with unequivocal certainty, as if he was scraping the words from Akira's own brain. "You didn't want to be pampered and provided for. You wanted to command your own destiny."

Akira hummed in wordless assent, making Kyle's breathing hitch. He shifted his fingers to press them firmly to Akira's throat, and Akira repeated the noise so the other man could feel the vibrations through his skin.

Kyle's eyes were dark with lust. "What did you do?"

"Found a willing replacement," Akira whispered hoarsely. "Weaned the client off me and onto her over a few weeks, and then took off."

"Her?"

"The client didn't much care about the gender of the person enforcing his new-found submission, just that they did it frequently and without mercy."

"And what about you?" asked Kyle, sounding amused as he looked down at him and ruffled his hair. "Do you think you'll get any mercy from me?"

Akira held his gaze steadily, gratified when, after a long and tense moment, Kyle swore and blinked first.

"You'll give me whatever I tell you to," said Akira dismissively.

He knew that wasn't true. He needed that not to be true, and so he shifted on his knees to ease his discomfort.

Kyle instantly shoved him back down into place before he could get any relief and resettled his hand around Akira's throat, squeezing just tightly enough to be a threat.

The warning settled him. Reminded him that he wasn't in control here, and that he didn't have to think for once. Didn't have to plot or plan or pretend, because Sir was in charge and everything would be alright.

"Correction," Kyle said in a low, dangerous voice that sent delicious shivers down Akira's spine. "I'll give you what you need, pet. What I make you beg for. But telling will get you nowhere, and you know it."

His hands were in Akira's hair again, feeling so pleasurable and gentle compared to the insistent burning ache in his legs.

"Yes, Sir," Akira whispered, burying his face back against the man's leg and willing to stay there for as many hours as he was allowed to do so. "Thank you, Sir."