26. Kyle

CHAPTER 26

Kyle

" K yle?"

"Yeah?" he murmured.

This was perfect. The type of perfect that felt impossibly unreal and had raised the bar so high that each day of Kyle's life before now seemed dull in comparison.

Epsilon – Akira – was here with him, in Kyle's bed, his body slotted against his like they'd had years of practice.

Akira had kissed him. Told him his real name. Saved his life. They'd watched a vid together, and gone to bed together, and slept the whole day together, and now they were waking up together.

Kyle was so happy he feared he might explode from it. And not the sexy now lick that up for me, slut kind of exploding, although he'd be happy to explore that too. When he woke up properly.

Akira made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. "Did you just put your feet on my leg?"

"Yeah."

"Did you just put your cold feet on my leg?"

Kyle snickered, snuggling closer and drawing those feet higher until they were pressed against the other man's bare thigh. "Yeah."

"Are you aware that I want to hang you from your wrists and flay you to within an inch of your life right now?" Akira asked in a low voice, his Dominant side on full, dangerous display.

"Sure am," Kyle said cheerfully, sliding one of his feet between Akira's legs and brushing against his balls.

The man struck like a fucking snake, uncoiling in a movement of pure energy. Kyle's lingering sleepiness disappeared as he found himself tossed onto his back and pinned to the bed by a very pissed off Master Epsilon.

Kyle grinned up at him. "What are you going to do now, sweetheart?"

A moment later Kyle was screaming, writhing breathlessly on the bed and begging his heart out.

"Please stop tickling me!" he gasped, kicking out, and the other man seized his foot just in time to protect his balls. Or rather to protect Kyle's foot, because he'd forgotten about the cock cage.

But Akira, perhaps recalling Kyle's savage teasing from earlier, offered him no mercy. Resting a knee on his leg to keep him in place, he continued until tears were streaming from Kyle's eyes and his stomach hurt from laughing.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes!" Kyle eagerly agreed, only to shriek and wriggle when the other man shook his head at him and started up again. Deft fingers found his ticklish spots with unfair ease. "I said yes !"

After a few more seconds of torture, Akira paused and brought his face close to Kyle's.

"I believe the phrase you're looking for," he said icily, "is yes, Sir ."

"Yes, Sir!" Kyle yelled, only the words were smothered by Akira's lips coming down on his, day-old stubble brushing against his chin as he moved. Kyle melted into the kiss, his heartrate ratcheting up even further, and when his wrists were released from the effortless hold they'd been captured in, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around his man. Warm skin under his fingertips. Hair, normally so flawlessly styled, that he was being allowed to mess up. Brown eyes steadily watching him and crinkling with pleasure as Kyle took control of the kiss and deepened it.

Akira moaned into his mouth, as eager and hungry as he was, yet a moment later his whole body slumped against him.

Not in surrender. More like...resignation?

"We don't have the time to indulge before work," he murmured regretfully, planting a final kiss on Kyle before heaving himself off.

Now it wasn't just Kyle's feet that were cold, but every part of him. Particularly his mouth, and he loudly informed the man of that fact while he watched him retrieve his clothes.

Even just getting dressed, Akira was a performer. The way he dipped his head when he slipped each arm through the sleeve of his shirt, accentuating the strain in his neck and shoulders. How he bent an elegant leg to pull his trousers on, poised and graceful, and leaving the observer breathless as the fabric slid seductively up his thigh. How those talented fingers skilfully did up the buttons on his shirt, lingering over each one, with the kind of dextrous competence that promised to bring you to climax in seconds.

Kyle was mesmerised, incapable of looking away.

And it didn't matter that every second that passed covered more of Akira's bare skin. He was the type of man who was able to entice and enthrall as much while clothed as naked, using his body to hint and tempt and tease.

Stars, even watching him pulling on his socks had Kyle salivating. He wanted to rip them back off and lick his feet, worship them with kisses before moving up and lavishing the same amount of reverence on the rest of Akira's body. He could spend hours discovering what the other man liked and didn't, tracing lines and curves he'd long since admired from afar.

And – wait, hadn't there been a suit jacket? It was missing now, unfairly depriving Kyle of the final round of the reverse strip tease, and he glanced around the tiny apartment in the hope he might spot it.

Nope. Gone. Akira must have discarded it before they returned home together this morning and he'd been too blind to notice.

Kyle hummed appreciatively as Akira rolled his shoulders and arched his back, bringing to mind images of the man bending for him. He wanted that again.

Ordering him back to bed wouldn't work: Akira clearly wasn't feeling submissive this morning. If the way he'd just tortured Kyle wasn't indication enough, it was evident now from the assured set to his shoulders and how he loftily held Kyle's gaze rather than lowering his own.

Kyle didn't comment on it. It wasn't a Dominant's job to tell his sub – or switch – what he was or wasn't feeling, and even though they played best together when Akira was exploring his more compatible submissive side, it wasn't as though kink was their whole relationship, or that Kyle couldn't appreciate the other sides to the man.

Starting with the way Akira took it upon himself to thoroughly wash out the cat bowls and refill them with food and water before ducking down to peer into the fridge for their own breakfast. Mayhem purred, coiling around Epsilon's legs like black ink before burying his face into his bowl.

Akira straightened and slammed the fridge door, then scowled over at the bed where Kyle was still lounging. Watching his man get all domestic on him was warming Kyle's body up nicely , and he was starting to feel rather relaxed.

"What, exactly, were you planning on eating?"

"There's food in there."

Akira's expression was simultaneously horrified and disdainful. "Two-day old pizza and a bottle of beer is not breakfast, Kyle."

Kyle flapped a pathetic hand. He let his head flop down onto his pillow and must have fallen back asleep, for his eyes opened again to find the Master cooking eggs in a pan, the rest of the apartment immaculately tidy and smelling delicious . He opened his mouth to thank him and then thought better of it when the man shot him a bossy, exasperated glare.

Kyle pretended to ignore it, so Akira transferred the eggs to a plate and strode over to him, all mouth-wateringly long limbs and liquid sin poured into an expensive suit.

His expression didn't look any less irritated than it had from the other side of the room. It was lucky that Kyle knew him well enough to understand that he was only pretending to be a big meanie, and that deep down he loved it when Kyle wound him up.

"Get out of bed."

Very deep down, of course.

"You didn't have to clean up. I would have done that," Kyle said in weak protest. He pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed.

"Any month now, I'm sure. Get up. You're going to be late for work."

Kyle grinned at the dry delivery of the words, dragging Akira closer by the leg and pressing a kiss to his clothed hip. Even the luxuriously soft material felt scratchy against his abused lips, sore from how much they'd kissed yesterday. "My boss won't mind."

"He certainly will mind," Akira said shortly, all cold and boring and serious until Kyle pulled him down to sit on his lap.

The plate of eggs swayed in the other man's hand at the abrupt change in altitude, but with Epsilon's typical grace, came to rest without spilling any of its contents.

"Then I'll just have to make it up to him," Kyle murmured, stroking between his legs and delighting in being able to feel the hard bars of his toy through the fabric. Even if Akira was no longer in the submissive mindset he had been in before they went to sleep, it seemed he was still willing to follow Kyle's rules.

Stars, that had him smiling so broadly that he couldn't stop the mouthful of scrambled egg that Akira used the opportunity to slyly feed him. Not that he'd have wanted to stop any such thing, because that was divine .

Running a business, fighting off bad guys, sucking cock...and now making breakfast. Was there anything Master Epsilon turned his hand to that he didn't excel at?

It might have been enough to give some men an inferiority complex. But Kyle wasn't the kind of person to keep or compare lists. He preferred to celebrate the achievements of others, although if he was being honest, getting to have a man like Akira was a celebration all on its own.

"I enjoyed the vid," Kyle said between more mouthfuls. He'd slid a hand behind Akira's back to gently fondle and knead his ass in return for feeding him. "Thank you for showing it to me."

Akira's mouth twitched with something that told Kyle he'd discarded his original acerbic response and was now trying to think of something nicer to reply with.

"Please just say it. You never need to watch yourself around me, Akira."

The other man's expression seemed to freeze for a brief moment before he quickly recovered, smoothing it away with a fond smile.

"In that case, I will have the gratitude you uttered just now tattooed on your skin so you won't ever prattle through a vid like that again," Akira said in his low, terrifying tone, tracing Kyle's cheek with a long finger as though that was where he planned to leave the indelible mark. "You're a bastard, Kyle Randall."

Kyle just laughed. "Frustration looks good on you." He looked pointedly downwards at where another source of frustration kept the man's cock trapped, and for that, Akira directed the next spoonful of scrambled egg into his own mouth with careless nonchalance.

"And being my bitch for the duration of your shift today will look good on you ." He licked the spoon clean with arrogant nonchalance.

Oh, so that was how it was going to be?

Kyle was up for the challenge.

He grinned. "I'll put up with whatever you give me today, boss , knowing that at the end of that shift you'll be all mine to take it back out on."

Akira shook his head, his expression turning rueful. "I can't tonight. I promised Robby I would spend it wit-"

This time, he didn't just fall still, he stopped breathing . It was several seconds of Kyle growing increasingly worried about the statue in his arms before Akira swore – a loud, snarled, fuck , right in Kyle's face – and scrambled off his lap, continuing to back up until he was pressed against the wall. Kyle stared dumbly at the empty plate as it landed on the floor. It clattered but didn't break, because he couldn't afford anything more delicate than cheap, rough-edged plastic.

"Are you alright?" he asked, alarmed. His gaze flickered back to the other man, who'd turned paler than seemed healthy for someone with his skin tone. "Who's Robby?"

Akira gave him a cold-eyed look. "No one."

"Oh," said Kyle. Robby didn't seem like no one , but clearly Kyle had done something wrong by asking because the blisteringly scathing expression on Akira's face was capable of stripping flesh to the bone.

Was he a client? A new employee? Something...more?

Akira's mouth curved downwards in displeasure. "Are you done interrogating me?"

Without waiting for an answer to his question – not that Kyle could have given one with how he was too busy gaping at its unfairness – Akira yanked his polished shoes on, strode to the door, and wrenched it open.

It was also unfair how unimaginably sexy he could look fleeing from Kyle, and the man's agitation meant he couldn't even enjoy the view of that thousand-credits-an-hour ass.

"Akira, wait!"

The Master paused, one hand resting on the doorframe, and slowly turned.

"I'm...sorry?" Kyle ventured. If this could all be fixed with an apology, he'd give it a hundred times over, even if he still wasn't sure how he'd fucked up. Just that he had, and he wanted to go back to a few minutes ago when his man had been relaxed and happy and feeding him eggs.

Akira just shook his head to dismiss the apology, his irritated expression not softening. Cold eyes pinned Kyle to where he was still seated on the edge of the bed, and he hurriedly pulled the duvet over his lap to hide himself. The apartment door was wide open, and the last thing he needed was Agnew to walk past while he was naked.

Kyle swallowed.

He'd known these last few hours had been too good to be true. Akira opening up to him, trusting him, shedding that frosty shell of his...the one that had now just come crashing back into place with layers twice as thick.

Their night together hadn't gotten Akira out of his system.

Kyle had a dirty down addiction that didn't leave a track, and no amount of bad, bad medicine would save him now. All he wanted was to pull Akira closer and ease the lonely ache he could already feel building inside, but that was denied to him.

Why had he let himself believe this could be more than a night of impulsive fun and near-death adrenaline? They'd had the past five years to become more to each other than they were, and every time Kyle had tried, Akira had pulled away. Why should now be any different?

What was different was how much of a hit Kyle had gotten this time. Enough for the biggest and most glorious of highs, but now he was left shaking and needy for the next one, and he knew it wasn't coming.

His fingers itched to trace Akira's jaw, feel his pulse flutter, revel in the warmth of his skin. He wanted to wrap the man in his arms and never let him go, demanding that he stay and be his forever.

He sat on his hands instead and jerked his chin over to where his leather trousers were folded neatly on the sofa with the rest of his clothes. "Don't forget that," he said dully, not wanting the other man to remain trapped by something so stupid and clearly unwanted between them.

Akira's expression darkened even further and Kyle wished he hadn't said anything. He'd seen the Master escape handcuffs before: he could have easily taken care of the flimsy lock on the cock cage.

But Kyle had messed up – again – by reminding them both of what he held over him. How he'd left Akira caged in the audacious presumption that there'd be the luxury of a later in which to free him, rather than just those few snatched hours together that he should count himself lucky to have been gifted. Why the stars had Kyle wasted so much time sleeping ?

Akira plucked the small key from the pocket of the trousers and left the apartment without another word.