If you're game...before you read my version of "Dane's night," take a little mental stab of your own. What would Dane do/ask/demand when given the chance? Feel free to share your ideas at the end!
Surprising—the effort required to hang back and let Dane lead. Are you sure? his eyes ask throughout the Two Boots experience—from ordering to paying to choosing a booth, and even eating—and each time, Dane seems to come away surprised he’s still in charge.
He leads me out the restaurant door, lacing his fingers between mine before I can pull on my gloves. The warmth of his hand and the nearness of his body at my side more than make up for the lack of cashmere and leather. Inside our hotel, Dane walks at a healthy clip, his stride slowed only by the glances he throws my way. I reassure him each time, squeezing his hand, smiling, nodding, and doing my best to be a follower. There’s certainly nothing about it that comes naturally to me.
The elevator ride is a twitchy affair with Dane’s wriggling fingers ticking off each number on the digital display as we rise to our floor. If this is stressing him out, I will put an end to it.
“Nervous, Dane?” I ask in half-voice.
He looks at me and smiles. “Nope.”
“Got a plan?” Now I’m smiling, too.
Oh my god, he is loving this! The elevator doors open on our floor, and he nearly skips us down the hall, holding his hand out for the key when we get to the door. I pull it out of my wallet and hand it to him, but as he grips the other end of the plastic card, I hold on tight. He looks up with questioning eyes.
“Within reason,” I remind him as sternly as I can when all I want to do is tackle him.
“Absolutely, Master,” he answers, letting me know that he understands where this night falls in the grand scheme of things.
With a single nod, I relinquish the key and follow him inside. Wordlessly, Dane removes my coat first and then his own, draping both over the nearest chair.
“Need anything?” he asks. “Water? Tums?”
“Not yet, but thanks for asking,” I answer that twinkle in his eye.
He leads me toward the bedroom with no more than a subtle tip of his head and a smile, and I follow eagerly. He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, wraps his arms low around my back, and leans in to kiss me. He’s not particularly controlling or demanding, but then, why would he be?
Absent any restriction or instruction, my fingers busy themselves in Dane’s hair. For all I know, this is the entirety of Dane’s “kind of” plan for the evening, and while I’m rock hard for him—as I can feel he is for me—I can’t say I’d be entirely disappointed to just continue this sweet kiss for a long, long time.
Dane seems to have other ideas, or at least his hands do, as they travel downward and cup my ass. That works, too.
He pulls back from the kiss, his gaze drowsy and free of the earlier tension. “Master, can we both get ready for bed, please?”
“I thought we were,” I answer with a chuckle.
“I pretty much suck at this being in charge thing.”
I reach an arm around his waist and pull him into my body. “You’re doing great. I’m just teasing you. What would you like me to do?”
“Well, I debated brushing your teeth for you, but I think it would be best if you handled that yourself . . . and then, you know, the rest of the bathroom stuff? And then, can we just take off all our clothes and meet back here?”
Dane heaves a sigh of relief that leaves me chuckling all the way to the bathroom. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Dane.” He rolls his eyes as we brush our teeth side by side.
He takes care with the removal of his heavy stage make-up while I splash my face with cold water. Our eyes meet in the mirror as we both reach for our shirts. Any other day, I wouldn’t have a problem getting out of my button-down, but my fingers are shaking just enough to make it a challenge. Dane’s naked first, bless him, and he slips into the tiny toilet room, catching my eye and quietly saying, “Excuse me,” before closing the door between us.
Anticipating that awkward moment when he’ll come out and I’ll have to shimmy past him and switch places—neither of us with a stitch of clothing on—I opt for the little powder room by the entrance. The forced intimacy of our shared living quarters changes things in a way that is neither wholly positive nor wholly negative, but it is something to be respected and managed. I’m not ready to share all my private functions with Dane, and I don’t need to own his—though I won’t hesitate to do so if and when the situation calls for it.
I make quick work of my preparations, having no desire to keep him waiting. His nerves are already taxed, and anything I can do to make it easier on him will make this evening go that much better. Dane’s just coming out of the bathroom as I reach the side of the bed. I could weep at the beauty of his gait, a perfect choreography of limbs working together with grace and purpose. Most of all, I love the no-nonsense slant of Dane’s erection and the determined look in his eyes as they sweep my body.
He surprises me by stepping around behind me, pressing his body against my back, threading his arms around my waist, and clasping his hands over my belly. Before my brain can process his unexpected assertion, all the non-essential blood in my body rushes straight to my cock. Confident Dane is a heady experience—and a sheer privilege.
Lips press soft kisses into my neck, and my whole body shudders. He rocks us ever so slightly, a skilled dance partner whose body carries out his mind’s desires without effort or doubt. I’m anchored against his hard body; I’m completely adrift. I close my eyes and place my hands over his. My head tips left—an offering he does not fail to acknowledge with a needy moan. Our slow dance is quickly becoming a deep grind, his arousal pressing insistently against my ass.
“Master,” he murmurs, “we’re going to need lube and a condom, please.”
My hazy brain has somehow connected Dane’s request with the unlikely position we’re in, and all I can produce in response is a moronic, “Hunh?”
Dane chuckles softly against my shoulder, tickling me and sending a new shiver down my spine. He repeats his request, slower and clearer for my addled brain. “Lube. Condoms.”
His hands release me, and I fight for my balance. Falling on my face would suck. I won’t lie—a ripple of what the fuck has its turn with me. I can’t say I’d even considered the idea that Dane would want to fuck me. My veto sits on the tip of my tongue, but hell, I don’t want to shut Dane down. Not tonight especially. This boy challenges me at every turn, and it seems tonight will be no exception.
Bottoming isn’t something I do often, nor is it anything I’ve ever done at the whim of my submissive. It’s one of the tools in my master’s toolkit, and like most other items in that sacred collection, it has its place—on my terms.
Right on the tail of my “Oh, the things I do for Dane” sigh, a bulb as bright as the sun lights up over my head. Inside the light is a simple word—trust. Has Dane overstepped our boundaries at any time in this relationship? Not once. Has he taken more from me than I was prepared to give? Absolutely not. Is there any reason to doubt him now? Nope.
“Okay,” I answer him belatedly, heading to my stash in the nightstand. If the housekeeping staff is nosy, they will have gotten several eyefuls by now, the condoms and lube being the least of them. Dane waits right where I left him, watching me with a carefully contained grin.
“Thanks,” he says, closing his hand over the supplies I’ve placed in his outstretched palm.
I give him a nod, and he returns the gesture. I have to bite the inside of both cheeks to hold myself still while he ponders how to continue. We’re locked inside this strange “time-out” together where our normal laws of behavior hang above us, suspended but not forgotten.
Tell me what you want, Dane.
“Hi,” he says, then immediately shakes his head at himself.
I laugh. I can’t help it. He’s demanding; he’s beseeching. He’s powerful; he’s weak. He’s confident; he’s shy. I have no idea who to expect from one moment to the next, and I find myself loving every minute of his special brand of torture. “Hi back.”
Dane chuffs again and drops his gaze to his fisted hand. “I know what I want,” he says. “I just don’t know how to get there.”
I swallow my own anxiety and make damn sure to rid my voice of anything he might consider condescension. Matter-of-fact is the way to go here. Just a guy telling another guy how to get a job done.
“Basically,” I start, smiling when Dane looks up at me with grateful eyes, “there are two ways to get what you want: words and actions. Just pick which feels more comfortable for you.” And I will follow.
Dane nods, and the intensity returns to his gaze. Taking my hand, he lifts his knee onto the bed and gives me enough of a tug that I know to follow him up. He leads me to the middle of the bed, presses his hand to my chest, and closes his lips over mine. Aggressive Dane is back, and I welcome him with open lips. I’m not prepared for the shove, and Dane chuckles as I land on my back with an indelicate “Oof!”
Next thing I know, I find myself under my beautiful boy, his thighs spread across my belly and his hands pinning my wrists over my head against the pillow. Arousal overpowers my ability to even try to predict where he’s going next or what my hypothetical response might be. Bent over me, Dane’s bangs hang like a fluffy curtain across my forehead, narrowing the space we inhabit together to an intimate sliver.
“Master.” His voice catches and fails.
I swallow hard. “Just tell me or move me, Dane.”
He opens his mouth, makes an attempt at something, but without success closes it again. Dane grips me with his thighs, scoops his hand under my neck, and flips us over in a move that would impress the hell out of Fran—if a martial arts instructor could ever get past the complete sacrifice of physical advantage. I’ve now been pushed and flipped, and frankly, I’m starting to feel a bit like Dane’s training dummy.
He’s very deliberately put me on top, between his legs, and now I’m just confused. This seems an unlikely position for Dane to achieve what I thought he wanted. He blinks wide eyes up at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Master, would you . . .”
“Yes, Dane, I will. Whatever it is. Ask me, and it’s yours.”
“Will you make love to me?”
He might as well have flipped me upside-down again. The request is so one-eighty from where I thought we were heading, I can hardly make sense of it. Or it might just be that my heart is pounding so hard in my ears, I haven’t heard him correctly. But those soft, brown, imploring eyes . . . yes, those are definitely eyes that just asked me for the brass ring, and now, they’re seeing “no” in my hesitation, dammit!
“Of course I will, Dane.” I seal the deal by cupping his cheek in my hand and covering his lips with mine. I can’t say I’m entirely sure I understand his request, and maybe he feels the same way about my answer, but Dane’s not a man to choose his words lightly. If he wanted to be fucked, he would’ve asked for it that way, or perhaps simply offered himself for the taking. Clearly, what he’s looking for involves tenderness at a minimum, and a deep emotional connection would not be out of the realm of possibility. As for love itself, that seems a question for another day.
In many ways, Dane is so much more courageous than I am. How long would it have taken me to have felt liberated enough to express my feelings physically with him? And yet, given one night to take the lead, he instantly leaps right here. Dane takes my breath away, and I intend to do the same to him.
There’s so much I’ve been holding back with him, so many bridges I have been afraid to cross for fear of rushing him or pressuring him or scaring him away. This beautiful night, I can kiss his eyelids and swirl my tongue around his nipples and linger around all the delicious contours of his abdomen without fear of harming Dane or our relationship because he’s asked for this. This wondrous night, I can spread him open and use my mouth to ready his body for mine. This miraculous night, when I enter him, I can express my powerful emotions with kisses and tender caresses even if I still can’t say them out loud.
Sigh....was that what you were thinking? XXX