Make Me Soar (16 page)

Dorian’s cheeks were red hot. Alan shook his head and glanced around the lounge, brushing his fingers through his short layers of blond hair.

“Is that it?”

Dorian gave the flat one last look. “I think so.”

His gaze met Alan’s, and the Dom smiled.

“Then it’s time for this.”

Alan took something out of his jacket pocket, and Dorian stared at it, his heart thumping. It was a training collar but in stainless steel, a small silvery padlock at the front to fasten it. He gulped when Alan drew nearer.

“From now on, you’re mine, Dorian.”

Long, slim fingers teased the sensitive skin, and Dorian fought hard to repress the tremors that threatened to overwhelm him as Alan fitted the metal collar snugly around Dorian’s neck, securing it with the padlock. It wasn’t tight and could almost have been made for him, it fit so well. Once it was in place, Alan stepped back and gazed at it, a gentle smile on his face.

Dorian breathed deeply as the metal’s cool surface warmed on his skin. A collar of his own. He’d worn one at the club, not a training collar but something leather that had served as decoration, fastened with a buckle at the back. How many times had he given longing glances to the subs with their collars, their Masters beside them?

“I use metal collars rather than leather so it can remain in place all the time, even when you shower.” Alan regarded Dorian thoughtfully. “It suits you,” he said quietly. “You’ve had lots of training, so you know what I expect from you. In the house you will address me as Sir. You are to be polite at all times, no swearing, although I may allow the odd expletive when we’re in a scene, particularly if I want to hear your reactions.”

They’d discussed protocols that morning, and Dorian was amazed at how quickly he fell back into the familiar patterns of behavior.

He stood straight, arms by his side, gaze directed to the floor. “Yes, Sir.”

Alan lifted his chin until Dorian was looking directly into those cool blue eyes. “In case I didn’t mention it this morning, I’m not like those Doms who expect downcast glances all the time. Your eyes tell me so much about you, Dorian, sometimes more than what comes out of your mouth. Don’t hide them from me, boy. I want you to look at me. Is that understood?”

Dorian swallowed. “Yes, Sir.” He kept still, the tremors barely held in check. The confidence and quiet power that Alan exuded was even more impressive at close quarters. Dorian thought about how it would feel to have him there all the time, and this time a shiver escaped him.

And then he caught his breath when Alan leaned closer and kissed him, a soft whisper of silky lips against his, Alan’s hand moving to cup the back of his head and prolong it for a few more seconds. Dorian’s heart sped up, but he kept his eyes open, unable to look away from the handsome Dom.

Alan broke the kiss. “You taste good,” he said under his breath. He withdrew his hand, a knowing expression flitting across his face. “Let’s go home.”

Dorian took a second or two to get his breathing back under control. “Yes, Sir.”

Alan opened the front door and held it ajar for Dorian, his other hand turned palm upward to accept the door keys. Dorian placed them in Alan’s hand and then stepped past him to stand on the landing while Alan pocketed the keys, picked up the cases, and placed them beyond the doormat.

He pulled the door shut and then turned to Dorian. “Ready?”

“Ready, Sir.” Dorian spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel.
Fake it until you make it
, he told himself. As he followed Alan down the stairs to the main door of the apartment block and outside to Alan’s car, he couldn’t get over the feeling that something momentous was about to begin. Inside his head was a rolling mass of conflicting emotions, all vying for control.

And now it begins
.

A
LAN
SWITCHED
on his coffee machine and then pulled open the fridge to inspect its contents. He sighed when he saw the virtually empty shelves. He hadn’t given a thought to dinner, and it was clear some shopping was required. Above him, he heard Dorian moving around his room. He’d left him unpacking.

Alan stared out of the window at the stark garden beyond. The sky was still tinged with a strange hue that spoke of imminent snow. It was certainly cold enough for it. The weather forecast on the news that morning had predicted heavy snows. Alan had checked the woodpile outside the back door and was confident he wouldn’t need to organize another delivery.

He placed two fat mugs beside the coffee machine and leaned against the work top, his mind focusing on Dorian. The sub had been quiet during their journey back to the house, and Alan had left him to his thoughts. Dorian had been given a lot to think about, after all.

Including that kiss
, he told himself sternly. It wasn’t how he usually did things. Kissing was something he saved for scenes, if the occasion called for it.

Dorian has me breaking all my rules
.

The thought gave him pause. Maybe it was time he did things differently, especially when he recalled that adorable hitch in Dorian’s breathing when he’d closed the gap between them and the softness of that beautiful mouth against his.

Alan had wanted to do a lot more than kiss him. Thank goodness not
all
his brain was controlled by his dick, but it had been quite an effort to wrench himself away. Dorian’s reaction gave him hope that he was on the right track. The lad was born to be sensual, and Alan intended to help him fulfill his potential. He told himself that he’d kissed Dorian as a way to accustom him to Alan’s embraces, because that was the plan. Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, Alan knew he was lying to himself.

He’d wanted to feel those lips, feel them part for him as they had done in the scene.

Right on cue, his cock stiffened in his jeans.

The sound of Dorian coming downstairs had him adjusting his hard-on quickly, and he reached for the nearly full pot of coffee to fill the mugs. Dorian stood in the doorway, and Alan was conscious of the fact that once more he was being observed. He gave a wry smile.

“We need to discuss food while we have a coffee,” he said without turning. “The cupboard is bare, as they say, and I really don’t like the look of the weather, so the sooner we get to the supermarket, the better.” He picked up the mugs and turned to place them on the kitchen table.

Dorian pulled out the chair facing him and sat, his hands cupping the mug. “We haven’t talked about what you’d expect me to do around the house.”

Alan gave a brisk nod. “Good point. Well, from what I saw, your flat was clean and tidy, so I know you’re house-trained.”

Dorian smothered a chuckle. Alan liked that; he wanted the lad more at ease.

“I don’t expect you to cook or clean for me, although I
am
assuming you can cook.”

Dorian nodded, and Alan wiped his brow with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Good, nice knowing you’re not about to poison me.” He smirked.

Dorian smiled. “I can cook basic meals, and I can follow recipes. Perhaps I
should
add at this point that I am addicted to fast food.” His cheeks flushed pink.

Alan let out a low whistle. “Oh dear, now that might be a problem, because I rarely eat it.” He tilted his head to one side. “How about if we make fast food a reward? Something you have to earn? Seeing as you won’t be able to buy it anymore, because I will have your wallet.” He winked. “Which you are now about to hand over to me, by the way.” He held out his hand, palm facing upward.

Dorian slowly slid his hand into the pocket of his woolen jacket and removed the wallet. He gave it one last look and then placed it in Alan’s hand. His gaze lingered on it as Alan placed it on the table next to his mug.

Alan took in Dorian’s air of reluctance. “Can I ask you something?”

Dorian’s gaze jerked up, and he nodded.

“Do you have a job? I only ask because I see you so frequently at the club. I work for myself, so I’m usually there at all hours of the day, but more often than not you’re there when I arrive.”

The flush on Dorian’s cheeks deepened. “I suppose you could describe me as a perpetual student. When I finished my A levels, Dad wanted me to do a degree in business, so I went to university.”

“Did
you
want to do this degree?”

Dorian let out a sigh. “Not really, but Dad was keen, and I wanted to make him happy.” He traced an invisible design on the tabletop. “I did a lot of things to make him happy, but I couldn’t stand the course. At the end of the first year I quit.”

“How did your dad take that?” Not that Alan needed to hear the answer. Misery hung around Dorian like a shroud.

“Oh, let’s just go with the short version and say he told me I could do what I wanted. The longer version involved a lot of expletives. So I did. I picked a degree course in computing.”

“And?”

Dorian shrugged. “It was okay. I chose it because it might be useful. I wasn’t a very good student, however. I missed a lot of classes. I think I spent more time at Collars & Cuffs than I did in my lectures. My classmates thought it grossly unfair when I passed.”

Alan gazed at him thoughtfully. “That tells me you’re very intelligent.”

“Or blessed with a damn good memory. Either way, I finished the course and then chose another one.” Dorian sipped his coffee slowly, inhaling its fragrance.

“What did you study this time?”

“Psychology.”

Alan arched his eyebrows. “A bit different from computing, but I have to say I approve—I studied Psychology too. What made you choose that particular degree?”

He shrugged. “It was always something that fascinated me. I really enjoyed the course too.”

“Why didn’t you find a job instead?”

Dorian stared into his coffee.

“Dorian, look at me.”

Dorian raised his eyes and gazed at Alan. “I couldn’t find anything that interested me, if I’m honest. I didn’t want to take any old job just for the sake of it and then leave it after a while because my heart wasn’t in it.” He gave Alan a sad smile. “Of course this caused a few arguments at home. I stuck it as long as I could, and then last summer I moved out. My parents were okay about it. I think secretly they were pleased to have me out of their hair.”

However calmly Dorian might have uttered the words, Alan could feel the tension in him. It was clear he was still hurting. “Aren’t you missing classes now?”

Dorian shook his head. “I finished the course in the summer—I passed, by the way—but living on my own sort of went to my head. I spent a lot of time at the club, just happy to be out of that house, really.”

“Did your parents fund your degree courses?”

Another shake of the head. “I was able to pay for those myself.” Alan widened his eyes, and Dorian gave an embarrassed smile. “I have a trust fund set up for me by my grandparents.”

The significance of Dorian’s earlier reluctance hit home. “You handing over your wallet was a big deal, wasn’t it?”

There was a moment’s silence before Dorian responded. “Yeah. I’ve been self-reliant for a while now. You asking me to be dependent on you for everything was huge. I thought I’d walked away from that when I left home.”

He pasted on a bright smile that didn’t fool Alan for a second, but he let it pass. Dorian obviously felt unhappy discussing this.

“It’s how I do things,” Alan stated simply. He peered at Dorian. “I know you agreed to it, but is that going to be a problem? I’d rather know now.”

Dorian became still, and Alan waited. At last the lad looked him in the eye. “No, Sir, it’s not.” His voice was clear and firm.

Alan was so proud of him. “Good boy,” he said softly. He loved the way Dorian’s cheeks glowed, and the shy smile was truly beautiful.

Time to change the subject.

He rose to his feet, mug in hand. “Well, if you’ve finished your coffee, how about we go shopping? We can discuss food on the way.”

Dorian nodded and drained his mug. “Finished.” He got up and moved to the sink, but Alan stopped him.

“Leave that. We can deal with the mugs when we get back. Go get your jacket.”

Dorian nodded and left the kitchen. Alan watched him go. The lad held his head high, back straight.

Another layer peeled away
. The more Alan learned about him, the more invested he became in helping Dorian achieve his goal. He didn’t imagine for a second that it would be plain sailing. Dorian might have revealed more about his past, but Alan knew there was more to come. And unfortunately for Dorian, it would be painful.

Alan intended to be there for his new submissive, every step of the way.

D
ORIAN
COULD
hear the rumble of Alan’s voice from the kitchen. He was speaking on the phone. Not that it distracted Dorian from watching TV. He hadn’t a clue what he was watching. Dorian had been curled up on the couch while Alan sat in one of the armchairs, next to the fire. He’d left the room when his phone rang, and Dorian had had the disquieting feeling that he’d been the topic of the conversation. He hugged the squashy cushion to his belly, inhaling its aroma. It smelled of Alan, and for some reason it comforted him.