45. Akira

CHAPTER 45

Akira

A kira was riding too high on what he'd just admitted to bother pretending he was sorry.

"I told you to behave, pet," Kyle grouched, watching Akira clean him up. He didn't even try to help and that was a thrill all in itself, getting to wipe and dry Sir's cock before carefully tucking it away to play with later. "Why did you disobey?"

Akira didn't respond, rolling answers around on his tongue and discarding each one.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. His expectant expression had turned severe.

"I couldn't come," Akira told him quickly before he could exact a punishment, one Akira would undoubtedly enjoy far too much. "It would…cause problems."

"Oh," Kyle said, realisation washing over his face and mixing with a heartbreaking dejection. His shoulders slumped. "You have clients tonight." A pause. "Or is it Robby?"

Akira jerked as if he'd been hit. "Fuck! No . Just...forget that name, Kyle."

Even if Akira held it close to his heart.

"I don't get it," said Kyle. "Why are you taking on so many clients when we need you here?"

He tried to deflect. "You don't need me here."

" I need you." Kyle swallowed, not meeting his gaze.

I love you. Would he say it back?

No, no of course he wouldn't. For Akira had kept the truth to himself for too long, and now he'd missed his moment. Or he hadn't kept the secret for long enough , and he'd scared Kyle off by burdening him with the heavy confession too soon in the newness of their changed relationship.

"You're doing it for the money, aren't you?"

Oh, sweet Kyle. He may have been delightfully innocent and exasperatingly na?ve at times, but the chirpy blonde could never be accused of stupidity.

"House Epsilon may not be flush right now," Kyle continued, "but even I, with my disastrous financial mismanagement and misplaced generosity that even a charity would despair over" – he was mocking Akira again – "know that it doesn't need you whoring yourself out for nine hours a night for the past week to put it back in the black. Or at least, that's not where the credits have been going. What is so important that I can't even make my pet spend at will?"

Akira grimaced and fought down his insistent arousal, knowing that if he dared linger on the way those words had been spoken, he'd come right there and grant his Dominant his wish.

"I owe someone a lot of credits", he told him carefully, but once again Kyle seemed to grasp exactly what he wasn't saying: not only filling in the gaps but also forgetting to resent Akira for not doing it himself.

"To the Coterie? No, to Master Theta," he breathed with abrupt realisation, his brow folding in dismay. "Urgh. That's why he's being so creepily possessive of you lately."

That behaviour from Theta wasn't new – the man still treated Akira as though he owned him, despite it having been many years since he'd left House Theta's employ – but it had certainly become more openly obvious in recent weeks. Maybe he felt threatened by Kyle, but if it was a question of who made the better Dominant, the better man , there was no competition at all.

Even now, Kyle was wrapping his strong arms around Akira, encasing him in the safety of muscle and home and a borrowed shirt that already smelled like Kyle.

"I'll help you pay it off," he urged, muttering the words into Akira's forehead. "I'm not paying rent: you can redirect my salary to-"

Akira shook his head. That was not fucking happening.

"Then tell me what I can do, sweetheart." The pain in Kyle's voice almost broke him. Stars, Kyle had already taken the burden of Akira's debt on himself and his huge, unendingly kind heart.

This was why Akira kept things from him, damn it.

"I need to get it up for my clients, but..." He raised his chin to look Kyle directly in the eye. "I can ensure they don't finish me. Make me wait for you, Sir."

Akira feared he was asking too much.

What kind of man declares he's off to fuck a long string of other people and still expects his boyfriend to open his bed – and his heart – to him?

Yet Kyle nodded furiously, eyes shining with renewed determination and his mouth twisting in amused intent.

"You're mine, sweetheart," he murmured, running his tongue lightly up the sensitive edge of Akira's ear and making him shiver. "I'm going to take care of you later and give you everything you need...but you have to be good for me, you understand? So hell fucking yes you'll wait for me, and if I find out you came even once without my permission, then I'm not going to touch you at all. Naughty kittens don't get treats."

Akira's breathing was heavy in his ears.

"Yes, Sir," he whispered, a promise and a plea all in one, and the small kisses that Kyle peppered at the corner of his mouth said the same in turn. A commitment then, to keep work as work and save a piece of themselves for each other at the end of the night.

In every glance and gesture, there was an unspoken promise of what Kyle could offer: the impossible yet irresistible balance of adventure and comfort. He was grounding and reliable and steadfast, but also wholly exhilarating. Those strong arms of his could flog Akira raw or pin him down just as easily as they could hold him close and ease the tension from his muscles. He loved it.

He loved him .

Kyle grinned and drew away. Akira watched fondly, straightening the sleeves of his jacket and admiring the shape of the other man as he moved around the room.

Kyle first laid a flogger out on the end of his bed, carefully stroking out each one of the tresses. Then he placed a leather muzzle beside it with the casual, threatening nonchalance of a man who knew he'd be getting his own way later.

Akira stopped breathing. Excitement flared.

Fuck yes.

He was going to make Sir be rough with him when the time came for them to play together tonight, he decided. Work them both up into a sweat, and-

A buzzer cut through the air and Akira blinked, coming back to himself.

The door to Kyle's room cracked open. "Are you decent?" Misha called through it, knowing they wouldn't hear him if it was closed.

Akira hadn't been decent a day in his life.

Thankfully Kyle answered for them both. "Yeah."

"That's a crying shame," Mish declared, breezing into the room with a flamboyant flick of his wrist. "Find yourselves in a sexy and compromising position next time, will you? You're both too hot not to feature in my fantasies."

"Didn't we just send you home?" asked Kyle with feigned grumpiness. "Why are you back here so early?"

"Early my ass," said Misha, echoing Akira's thoughts in his own lewd, unconcerned manner. He came to a halt and cast his eyes around the room, pushing out a lace-clad hip. Today's outfit – three strips of gossamer fabric wrapped strategically around his chest and thighs – couldn't reasonably be called lingerie, but no one here was complaining about the twink's perpetual lack of clothing.

"Work starts in twenty minutes and I can't find the straighteners," Misha complained, directing his words at Kyle because he knew better than to accuse his Master. "You stolen them, bitch?"

"If he had, do you think he'd still look like that?" Akira said dryly.

Kyle protectively patted his mess of blonde hair which, as usual, was sticking up in all directions. "Hey, rude."

Mish snorted. "Don't act offended. It's your guys' thing."

"What's our thing?"

"You know ," he said, waving a hand between them. "You're both like" – he pulled an exaggerated face – "at each other, while secretly loving that shit."

"Thank you for that articulate explanation," Akira drawled, shaking his head. "Can I go to my appointment, or do I have to worry that a pair of rune-powered straighteners are going to burn my House down while I'm gone?"

"House Epsilon isn't going to burn down," said Kyle with slight exasperation as he grabbed Misha by the arm and hauled him bodily out of the room. The smaller man grinned over his shoulder at Akira, the knowing expression on his face making it clear he'd noticed the toys laid out on the bed. And with Mish's inability to hold his tongue, all of the staff would soon know exactly how Akira would be ending his night.

He wanted to be annoyed, but the thought just made the impending degradation hotter.

Running a hand over his eyes, Akira turned away, only to come face to face with the mirror. He scowled at it fiercely, and then sighed.

"I'm safe. I'm a good person. I deserve to be happy," Akira said.

His reflection looked very pleased with him.