Who You Are
Writing "Of Russian Myth and Lore", I began thinking about first times. This is what came of it. Enjoy!
He had a last moment of indecision outside the door to the club. It wasn't that he was nervous about going in; far from it. But this would be an entire night away from his textbooks.
He was on top of his work, though, with straight A's so far this semester (this semester, as well). And he had prepared everything for next week and was more than half way through his next paper. There was nothing wrong with taking off an evening. Especially not since it would be his first Saturday night off since spring semester. And it was October now.
When he came in, he found out that there was a cover charge; that made him frown as well. As a principle, he didn't have any unnecessary expenses in his budget. On the other hand, he had a post in that budget he didn't ever use, so maybe this would be a chance to make the "miscellaneous" column make sense. And he liked budgets that made sense.
He grinned as he had solved the dilemma and opened the door to the club itself.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. The air was thick, with hot bodies and sweat and excited men. It was primal in a way he had never experienced before, and involuntarily, his nostrils widened to take in as much as possible. He took a couple of steps, casting a glance around the room, and then his feet froze to the ground.
Fuck, yes.
There was a man clinging to the bars along the back wall, head hidden along one arm. His back was heaving, glistening with sweat, and he was writhing under the heavy onslaught from a whip that looked like it came straight off a pirate ship.
As he watched, the whip hit its target again, and the man's face came up with an anguished moan, eyes meeting his. The man didn't look away as the next blow came, and the rush of excitement was so overwhelming that he got dizzy when he saw the pain and the surrender in the man's eyes. He couldn't take his eyes off the sight, and he was sucked into the man's pain, following every moan, every troubled breath until he was so hard that it hurt.
The whipping ended, and the man slowly pushed away from the bars, standing up straight. The other guy had put down the whip, and now he spread oil over the angry red marks covering the other man's back, rubbing it in meticulously before getting him something to drink.
Impatiently, he followed every move. The sweating man grinned as the other man said something, and then they shook hands before parting. The congeniality looked strangely incongruent with having just been beaten up, and he had a feeling that there was something he had missed. But that was what he was here to discover.
The man with the whip hadn't even put it away before he was over there, holding out his hand.
"Hello, I'm Michael."
The guy looked a little surprised, but his eyes did a quick once-over, apparently liking what he saw, judging by the appreciation in his eyes. Then they shook hands. "Toby. What can I do for you?"
"I want that."
"Yeah?" The man's eyebrows went up. "You want to have a turn under my flogger?"
"No." Michael shook his head. "I want to wield it."
***
The man called Toby was shaking his head. "This is really not how we usually do things." He had been away talking to somebody, and now he was back. "But George agreed to do it. Don't worry; he's really experienced. You can't do much wrong."
Michael wasn't worried, not even a little. He couldn't wait to do this.
Toby led them to a room in the back, somewhere that looked like a storage room doubling as a primitive bedroom. "It's a bit more private in here. It'll make it easier for you to hear him. And me."
Toby handed him something that looked like a Ping-Pong thing. Michael regarded it with disdain.
"What's that?"
"It's a paddle. This is what you'll use on George."
"No. I want to use a whip. Like you did."
Toby eyed him, eyebrows up again. He looked really annoying. "It's a flogger, and the fact that you don't even know what it's called is exactly why you won't use it. You can really hurt somebody with a flogger."
He frowned. "But that's the point. You beat that man up."
Toby's eyes went cold. "No. I did not beat him up. I flogged him, and that's something very different. If you don't get that, we stop this right now. Didn't you notice how he looked?"
Michael recalled the look in the man's eyes, the pain and the eagerness to do it anyway. It made him hard just thinking of it. "He looked like he wanted it."
"Exactly. He did want it. So does George, but only if you get how this works. There are safewords, and you only do what the sub has agreed you can do."
"The sub?" Why was Toby talking about sandwiches?
Toby rolled his eyes. "The submissive, dude. Jesus, you're such a novice."
Michael was about to give a cutting reply when the door opened.
"Hey, Toby. So, where's your baby Dom?"
The man saw Michael, eyes widening a little. "Perhaps not such a baby after all. This could be good."
"He's completely green, George, just so you know."
George grinned. "But I'm not. And I like initiating virgins."
Michael was going to state that he was far from being a virgin, but then the man started undressing.
He was completely uninhibited, shredding his clothes like they were in a locker room and not in the back room of a very noisy club. He looked like he was used to working, and working hard, with his body. He was short and slim – skinny, actually – but he looked so comfortable in his own body that it made him really sexy.
When George had finished undressing, Toby led him over to a couple of crates and bent him over them.
Michael felt a growl threatening. He wanted to do that. The feeling took him by surprise, and he almost missed Toby's words.
"… hard on soft. Your paddle is hard, so don't hit him anywhere hard, like his hipbone or his back. Concentrate on the big muscles here." Toby smacked the guy's ass. Instead of showing any sign of pain, the man pushed back, the movement so clearly begging for more. Michael felt his throat going dry.
"Don't fucking tease me, Toby. Let the man get to it. I promise to cry for help if he gets overeager." George grinned, and Toby stepped aside, somewhat reluctantly, it seemed.
The emotion as Michael stepped up to George, paddle in hand, was something he had never experienced before. At the same time, he felt incredibly powerful and perfectly grounded. He lifted his hand and let the paddle fall.
The feeling was like nothing else. The sound of the leather smacking against George's skin, the way Michael could sense even this first blow in the way George breathed, the way the skin was flushing an angry red when he moved the paddle back. It was exhilarating. Michael watched it in fascination and slid a hand over the red mark. It made George push back, begging for more. Begging for more from him. He put down a hand on George's back and let the next blow fall, and the next, and the next.
Michael was completely focused on the man in front of him, watching the breathing and the small jerks as he landed a particularly hard smack. The body under his hand was so fucking alive, and it was Michael who made it come alive, Michael who made it react. He hit again, just as hard, the intensity visible in the way George's stance stiffened, and at the same time the blow was reverberating through Michael's own body.
He reached up with his free hand and turned George's head, the man's eyes surprised as they met his. He let another blow fall, and he could see the pain and the excitement in George's eyes. Fuck, yes.
He let the intensity grow, never taking his eyes off the man, asking George to accept this much pain, this much pleasure. In the background, he could hear Toby talking, but he was too focused on what he was doing to listen. He noticed that keeping the smacks on the same spot got a bigger reaction out of George, his sub moaning louder and louder.
His sub. Jesus.
Michael kept it up until he felt the tension ratcheting in the back muscles under his left hand, George's eyes showing real distress. Then he paused what he was doing, taking a step back and watching the body in front of him. George was still tense, his breathing sounding raw, and without thinking, he leaned in and rubbed George's shoulders and back until the man's breathing sounded less strained. George didn't relax entirely, though; there was still something unfulfilled about the tension in the man's body.
"Do you want ten more?"
He could distantly hear Toby talking behind him, but he ignored it and kept the eye contact with George.
George hesitated. Then he took a deep breath, letting it fill him and visibly relaxing as he exhaled before nodding.
"Good. I'll count."
Michael let the first blow fall, hard and fast. George pushed back, into the pain. "That was one." He smacked the red ass under him again, then again and again. "Two. Three. Four."
George whimpered, looking up at him. He stared right back, knowing that something was happening and that it was all in his hands. That George gave it to him. Michael claimed it and let the paddle fall again. "Five. You're here."
Once more, and George cried out. "Six. Do it." Michael shifted the paddle a little, letting it fall a different place.
"Seven." Moving the paddle didn't make much difference; George was so close to his limit.
"Three more. You can do it. Eight."
George shouted, and Michael made sure not to look away from the man, to see the suffering and the surrender there. "You can do it."
But George was so close to breaking, so Michael let the last two smacks fall quickly. "Nine. Ten."
George yelled, and he kept doing so even after the paddling had stopped.
Michael let the paddle fall and stepped close, gently putting his hands on George's shoulders and rubbing them. It didn't help, though. George was still making these long, drawn-out sounds, and he let his hands slide lower, pushing hard into George's tense back muscles. Gradually, the sound died out, George's breathing slowing little by little as Michael rubbed the man's back and brought George back.
In the end, George blinked and looked up at him.
He smiled. "Welcome back."
George pushed himself up on his hands and arched his back. Then he stood up, shaking himself a little. He croaked something.
"Give him something to drink; he's parched." Toby handed Michael a bottle.
Michael didn't really know what to do with it, so he just opened it and handed it to George.
George drank half of it in one go. "Jesus." He shook his head and downed the rest before stretching again. "Jesus. Hadn't seen that one coming."
Michael suddenly didn't know what to do. Then George went still in front of him.
"Thank you, sir."
Michael almost groaned out loud, the rightness of those words coursing through him.
It might have showed on his face, because Toby grinned. "Why don't you have him suck you off?"
Before Michael could say anything, George was kneeling in front of him, opening his trousers and swallowing him in what felt like one move.
"Oh, God!" He pushed deep, involuntarily, but George took it and even pulled him closer. He put a hand around his sub's head, and George hummed around him. It felt so good, and he lost it completely, fucking George's mouth with abandon, and George took it without any protest, surrendering completely to what Michael did. He roared, coming down George's throat, and George accepted everything, swallowing him down and licking him clean.
Afterward, George looked up at him. "Thank you, sir," George said again, and it was enough to make Michael's cock twitch in an attempt to force the last come out of him.
"You're welcome." He let a hand caress George's hair. Then he stepped back and did up his pants.
George quietly left the room. Before Michael could follow, Toby grabbed his arm.
"Dude, did you hear a single word I told you?"
Michael was too mellow after his orgasm to get angry, but he still narrowed his eyes. "No."
Toby looked agitated. "You just don't have a first scene like that!"
Michael shrugged. "Why not?" He might not know much about this world, but what they had just done had been right. Whatever this Toby was going to say.
"Because you're supposed to be lousy your first time, but you just took him right through it! That was fucking impressive."
"Yeah?" Michael stopped to look at Toby.
"Hell, yeah. Dude, you were amazing. George was flying when he left. How the fuck did you know his limits like that?"
Michael shrugged again. "I just knew. And stop calling me 'dude'."
"Hey, no problem. What was your name again? I was busy imagining you naked when you introduced yourself."
Michael shook his head. That guy was unbelievable. "I'm Mic…" Then he hesitated. "Mischa. My name is Mischa."
Time to become who he really was.
He had a last moment of indecision outside the door to the club. It wasn't that he was nervous about going in; far from it. But this would be an entire night away from his textbooks.
He was on top of his work, though, with straight A's so far this semester (this semester, as well). And he had prepared everything for next week and was more than half way through his next paper. There was nothing wrong with taking off an evening. Especially not since it would be his first Saturday night off since spring semester. And it was October now.
When he came in, he found out that there was a cover charge; that made him frown as well. As a principle, he didn't have any unnecessary expenses in his budget. On the other hand, he had a post in that budget he didn't ever use, so maybe this would be a chance to make the "miscellaneous" column make sense. And he liked budgets that made sense.
He grinned as he had solved the dilemma and opened the door to the club itself.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. The air was thick, with hot bodies and sweat and excited men. It was primal in a way he had never experienced before, and involuntarily, his nostrils widened to take in as much as possible. He took a couple of steps, casting a glance around the room, and then his feet froze to the ground.
Fuck, yes.
There was a man clinging to the bars along the back wall, head hidden along one arm. His back was heaving, glistening with sweat, and he was writhing under the heavy onslaught from a whip that looked like it came straight off a pirate ship.
As he watched, the whip hit its target again, and the man's face came up with an anguished moan, eyes meeting his. The man didn't look away as the next blow came, and the rush of excitement was so overwhelming that he got dizzy when he saw the pain and the surrender in the man's eyes. He couldn't take his eyes off the sight, and he was sucked into the man's pain, following every moan, every troubled breath until he was so hard that it hurt.
The whipping ended, and the man slowly pushed away from the bars, standing up straight. The other guy had put down the whip, and now he spread oil over the angry red marks covering the other man's back, rubbing it in meticulously before getting him something to drink.
Impatiently, he followed every move. The sweating man grinned as the other man said something, and then they shook hands before parting. The congeniality looked strangely incongruent with having just been beaten up, and he had a feeling that there was something he had missed. But that was what he was here to discover.
The man with the whip hadn't even put it away before he was over there, holding out his hand.
"Hello, I'm Michael."
The guy looked a little surprised, but his eyes did a quick once-over, apparently liking what he saw, judging by the appreciation in his eyes. Then they shook hands. "Toby. What can I do for you?"
"I want that."
"Yeah?" The man's eyebrows went up. "You want to have a turn under my flogger?"
"No." Michael shook his head. "I want to wield it."
***
The man called Toby was shaking his head. "This is really not how we usually do things." He had been away talking to somebody, and now he was back. "But George agreed to do it. Don't worry; he's really experienced. You can't do much wrong."
Michael wasn't worried, not even a little. He couldn't wait to do this.
Toby led them to a room in the back, somewhere that looked like a storage room doubling as a primitive bedroom. "It's a bit more private in here. It'll make it easier for you to hear him. And me."
Toby handed him something that looked like a Ping-Pong thing. Michael regarded it with disdain.
"What's that?"
"It's a paddle. This is what you'll use on George."
"No. I want to use a whip. Like you did."
Toby eyed him, eyebrows up again. He looked really annoying. "It's a flogger, and the fact that you don't even know what it's called is exactly why you won't use it. You can really hurt somebody with a flogger."
He frowned. "But that's the point. You beat that man up."
Toby's eyes went cold. "No. I did not beat him up. I flogged him, and that's something very different. If you don't get that, we stop this right now. Didn't you notice how he looked?"
Michael recalled the look in the man's eyes, the pain and the eagerness to do it anyway. It made him hard just thinking of it. "He looked like he wanted it."
"Exactly. He did want it. So does George, but only if you get how this works. There are safewords, and you only do what the sub has agreed you can do."
"The sub?" Why was Toby talking about sandwiches?
Toby rolled his eyes. "The submissive, dude. Jesus, you're such a novice."
Michael was about to give a cutting reply when the door opened.
"Hey, Toby. So, where's your baby Dom?"
The man saw Michael, eyes widening a little. "Perhaps not such a baby after all. This could be good."
"He's completely green, George, just so you know."
George grinned. "But I'm not. And I like initiating virgins."
Michael was going to state that he was far from being a virgin, but then the man started undressing.
He was completely uninhibited, shredding his clothes like they were in a locker room and not in the back room of a very noisy club. He looked like he was used to working, and working hard, with his body. He was short and slim – skinny, actually – but he looked so comfortable in his own body that it made him really sexy.
When George had finished undressing, Toby led him over to a couple of crates and bent him over them.
Michael felt a growl threatening. He wanted to do that. The feeling took him by surprise, and he almost missed Toby's words.
"… hard on soft. Your paddle is hard, so don't hit him anywhere hard, like his hipbone or his back. Concentrate on the big muscles here." Toby smacked the guy's ass. Instead of showing any sign of pain, the man pushed back, the movement so clearly begging for more. Michael felt his throat going dry.
"Don't fucking tease me, Toby. Let the man get to it. I promise to cry for help if he gets overeager." George grinned, and Toby stepped aside, somewhat reluctantly, it seemed.
The emotion as Michael stepped up to George, paddle in hand, was something he had never experienced before. At the same time, he felt incredibly powerful and perfectly grounded. He lifted his hand and let the paddle fall.
The feeling was like nothing else. The sound of the leather smacking against George's skin, the way Michael could sense even this first blow in the way George breathed, the way the skin was flushing an angry red when he moved the paddle back. It was exhilarating. Michael watched it in fascination and slid a hand over the red mark. It made George push back, begging for more. Begging for more from him. He put down a hand on George's back and let the next blow fall, and the next, and the next.
Michael was completely focused on the man in front of him, watching the breathing and the small jerks as he landed a particularly hard smack. The body under his hand was so fucking alive, and it was Michael who made it come alive, Michael who made it react. He hit again, just as hard, the intensity visible in the way George's stance stiffened, and at the same time the blow was reverberating through Michael's own body.
He reached up with his free hand and turned George's head, the man's eyes surprised as they met his. He let another blow fall, and he could see the pain and the excitement in George's eyes. Fuck, yes.
He let the intensity grow, never taking his eyes off the man, asking George to accept this much pain, this much pleasure. In the background, he could hear Toby talking, but he was too focused on what he was doing to listen. He noticed that keeping the smacks on the same spot got a bigger reaction out of George, his sub moaning louder and louder.
His sub. Jesus.
Michael kept it up until he felt the tension ratcheting in the back muscles under his left hand, George's eyes showing real distress. Then he paused what he was doing, taking a step back and watching the body in front of him. George was still tense, his breathing sounding raw, and without thinking, he leaned in and rubbed George's shoulders and back until the man's breathing sounded less strained. George didn't relax entirely, though; there was still something unfulfilled about the tension in the man's body.
"Do you want ten more?"
He could distantly hear Toby talking behind him, but he ignored it and kept the eye contact with George.
George hesitated. Then he took a deep breath, letting it fill him and visibly relaxing as he exhaled before nodding.
"Good. I'll count."
Michael let the first blow fall, hard and fast. George pushed back, into the pain. "That was one." He smacked the red ass under him again, then again and again. "Two. Three. Four."
George whimpered, looking up at him. He stared right back, knowing that something was happening and that it was all in his hands. That George gave it to him. Michael claimed it and let the paddle fall again. "Five. You're here."
Once more, and George cried out. "Six. Do it." Michael shifted the paddle a little, letting it fall a different place.
"Seven." Moving the paddle didn't make much difference; George was so close to his limit.
"Three more. You can do it. Eight."
George shouted, and Michael made sure not to look away from the man, to see the suffering and the surrender there. "You can do it."
But George was so close to breaking, so Michael let the last two smacks fall quickly. "Nine. Ten."
George yelled, and he kept doing so even after the paddling had stopped.
Michael let the paddle fall and stepped close, gently putting his hands on George's shoulders and rubbing them. It didn't help, though. George was still making these long, drawn-out sounds, and he let his hands slide lower, pushing hard into George's tense back muscles. Gradually, the sound died out, George's breathing slowing little by little as Michael rubbed the man's back and brought George back.
In the end, George blinked and looked up at him.
He smiled. "Welcome back."
George pushed himself up on his hands and arched his back. Then he stood up, shaking himself a little. He croaked something.
"Give him something to drink; he's parched." Toby handed Michael a bottle.
Michael didn't really know what to do with it, so he just opened it and handed it to George.
George drank half of it in one go. "Jesus." He shook his head and downed the rest before stretching again. "Jesus. Hadn't seen that one coming."
Michael suddenly didn't know what to do. Then George went still in front of him.
"Thank you, sir."
Michael almost groaned out loud, the rightness of those words coursing through him.
It might have showed on his face, because Toby grinned. "Why don't you have him suck you off?"
Before Michael could say anything, George was kneeling in front of him, opening his trousers and swallowing him in what felt like one move.
"Oh, God!" He pushed deep, involuntarily, but George took it and even pulled him closer. He put a hand around his sub's head, and George hummed around him. It felt so good, and he lost it completely, fucking George's mouth with abandon, and George took it without any protest, surrendering completely to what Michael did. He roared, coming down George's throat, and George accepted everything, swallowing him down and licking him clean.
Afterward, George looked up at him. "Thank you, sir," George said again, and it was enough to make Michael's cock twitch in an attempt to force the last come out of him.
"You're welcome." He let a hand caress George's hair. Then he stepped back and did up his pants.
George quietly left the room. Before Michael could follow, Toby grabbed his arm.
"Dude, did you hear a single word I told you?"
Michael was too mellow after his orgasm to get angry, but he still narrowed his eyes. "No."
Toby looked agitated. "You just don't have a first scene like that!"
Michael shrugged. "Why not?" He might not know much about this world, but what they had just done had been right. Whatever this Toby was going to say.
"Because you're supposed to be lousy your first time, but you just took him right through it! That was fucking impressive."
"Yeah?" Michael stopped to look at Toby.
"Hell, yeah. Dude, you were amazing. George was flying when he left. How the fuck did you know his limits like that?"
Michael shrugged again. "I just knew. And stop calling me 'dude'."
"Hey, no problem. What was your name again? I was busy imagining you naked when you introduced yourself."
Michael shook his head. That guy was unbelievable. "I'm Mic…" Then he hesitated. "Mischa. My name is Mischa."
Time to become who he really was.