Page 109 of Fire & Ice

When Lee lifts their joined hands, his left to Tripp’s right, up between their chests to press a kiss to his knuckles, the metal of Leander’s brand new ring flashes under the lightof an overhead sconce. Tripp’s ring is safely at home—he has particular feelings about his collar filling that role, especially inthissetting—but damn, if he doesn’t love seeing Lee's in its rightful place.

“Damn straight, Sir,” he replies, suddenly feeling a lot more confident.

Trust Lee, he reminds himself. You’re not in this alone.

And Trippdoestrust Lee, always has, which prompts him to realize pretty abruptly that he’s being—at best—silly and extra. Hewantsto do this.

Resolved, Tripp promptly shucks the trench coat down his arms in one smooth motion, handing it over somewhat triumphantly. If any part of him still wasn’t sure, Lee's reaction to him baring it all is validation enough. Heck, he’s already seen what Tripp looks like—fuckin’ dressed him like a doll, in fact—and yet, he’sstillstanding there with openwantpainted across his face, near-drooling with the way he’s got his lower lip trapped between his teeth.

To be fair, Trippknowshe makes quite the picture right now, and he’s damn proud of it. The emerald green satin panties are back, complete with their lace trim and the little bow at the front. They match Tripp’s collarandhis eyes—take that, Heidi Klum.Tripp can Top Model with the best of them, especially with his newly-toned muscles, courtesy of Lee and his sadistic sexercises.

On top ofthat, Lee has tied a simple harness around Tripp’s chest, something comforting but practical for what they have planned. It’s the soft, bamboo silk Tripp favors—also emerald, for the aesthetic. Beyond the harness, Tripp’s arms are free—for now. His legs, on the other hand, are not.

Both of Tripp’s thighs are wrapped in custom triple-chain cilices Lee ordered online, though only one of them has the expected spikes on the inside, facing his skin. Tripp’s left thigh is still too unpredictable with nerve pain, and strange as it may sound, he gets no enjoyment out of stoking that to life—not in his day-to-day, and definitely not during a scene. That he’s wearing the cilice at all on the left is simply for appearances—it’s no one else’s business why he and Lee do what they do, or what limits Tripp may set for himself, but it’s easier to not invite questions.

All of that aside, the cilice on his right leg is something Tripplovesand wishes Lee would work into the rotation more often. The malleable spiked garter has three rows of interlocking, thin, metal rings, tied in the back over his quadriceps with black ribbon. Tonight, it’s cinched tight enough to be uncomfortable, to irritate the skin beneath it and to bother him when he moves, but not to cut into Tripp simply from being worn. Left alone, it’ll leave his thigh red, lightly excoriated, but intact, similar to the way his ass looks after a spanking.

Tripp knows full-well that Lee has no intention of leaving it alone. Just the thought and possibility makes his left bicep tingle, has him reaching up to trace fingers over the scars marking the outline of Leander’s handprint, still raised and plainly visible. Tripp adores those scars (and the memories that come with them)almostas much as he loves Lee himself.

Speaking of—Lee is still admiring him openly, uncaring that other people are trying to get to the lockers and having to skirt around the two of them ungraciously blocking the way.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Tripp snarks, and then immediately shrinks when Leander’s gaze rises from his body to his face, full of fire and righteous fury. The hair on Tripp’s arm stands on end, and he has to suppress a shiver at the sight. “Uh,Sir,” he course-corrects, and Leander’s eyes narrow, his smile absolutely predatory.

“I have,” he says simply, taking the coat and leaving Tripp to wonder when the hellthathappened and how he failed to notice.

Without another word, Leander locks their things away and drops the key into his pocket before shouldering his bag of supplies. Once again, he picks up the end of Tripp’s brand-new leash and sets off into the depths of the club. While Lee is definitely wearing alotmore clothing than Tripp currently is, somehow he looksjustas sexy, maybe more. Effortlessly so, and Tripp will probably never get over how unfair that is. The fact that he gets to sleep with the guy takes the sting out a bit, butdamn.

If thiswasTop Model, Tripp has to be real—Lee would kick his ass all the way down the runway and back without even trying.

Not only that, but Lee is dressed the part of a Dominant tonight. The club has a dress-code standard for Doms, but Lee's personal style fits into it easily. Because of that, he just ends up looking like a hotter version of himself, which Tripp also thinks is very unfair. To him, specifically, because he has to sit back andlookfor God only knows how long.Rude.

Trailing behind like the obedient sub he is, Tripp’s eyes are drawn to Lee's ass and the way the dark, tight black jeans he’s wearing sculpt it perfectly. As if those weren’t bad enough, Lee is rocking that black dress shirt and black waistcoat combo he wore to Beau and Bri's bachelor / bachelorette party, complete with the red tie. His hair is artfully-mussed with the right amount of gel, and as a sundae topper, he went with the giant combat boots that he usually wears to work, the ones that Tripp has definitely not begged Lee to fuck him in (more often).

Nearly every eye turns to gawk as they pass, and Tripp can’t decide whether to be proud or jealous, so he settles on both. At least he can take comfort in the fact that Lee is going to be fucking him in front of all these people very soon(and also fuckingonlyTripp for the rest of his life—holy shit—a thought that doesn’t hurt to savor, either).

Tripp’s cock stirs in his panties. He does his best to will it down, but it fills out insolently anyway,highlyinterested in the pending proceedings and the images flashing through Tripp’s mind. The cock ring Lee fit snugly around the base of his dick and balls is made to keep the wearer erect, so Tripp knows that it’s either self-restraint or agony—though he can’t actually decide which way he wants to go with that just yet.

Hekindof regrets not taking Lee up on the vibrating plug offer and opting for the boring silicone variety. Would’ve made for a nice distraction, or at least, some friggin’ stimulation.

His mistake.

Lee leads him through the first room pretty quickly: it’s not overly interesting. This converted section of the warehouse holds a subdued mix of plush seating around coffee tables with food and drink on spreads at the edges, plus a collection of people, many in street attire, laughing and chatting. Not that he and Leecan’thang out here, but generally speaking, the socializing room stays relatively kink-free.

The mixed room, which is the second space Lee walks them into, makes much more sense for pairs or groups to ‘warm-up’ in, so to speak. That doesn’t stop Tripp from grabbing a handful of the social room’s cashews, nipped from one of the aptly-placed bowls that are on a table next to the doorway as they pass through it.

The mixed space is lively tonight. There’s upbeat music playing, and Tripp finds himself bopping his head to the beat. The volume isn’t loud enough to drown out conversations, but it does add to the party-like atmosphere in the room. Over in the far corner, a sex swing hangs from the metal rafters, currently occupied by a female sub who looks happy as a clam to be having her ass lazily turned red by several other club members standing around her. It’s not an intense scene by any means, they all just seem to be hanging out and having a good time.

On the opposite side of the room from where they entered is the door to the Dungeon, the largest and most hardcore space the club has to offer. As such, the gateway to the room is blocked by thick, heavy, black curtains that don’t move unless youmovethem. Tripp knows that it’s notreallya barrier, it’s just another way the club works to ensure that if you’re looking, you’re informed and consenting to see whatever might lie beyond.

Soon enough,Trippis going to be that thing beyond the curtain, that semi-terrifying-for-new-people personification of kink that someone may or may not want to experience second-hand. Maybe everyone will be into what he and Lee do in there tonight. Maybe some won’t, but that’s not what fazes him. For the first time ever,Trippwon’t be able to turn around and walk away if his nerves win out.

It’s probably totally ridiculous to think that way, whenTrippis the one who was pushing so hard for them to come here. When his own hands and mind helped to design their scene, when literally nothing is going to be a surprise, and—for the thousandth time, Truett—hetrustsLee beyond all matter of reason.

Tripp swallows hard and allows Lee to lead them towards the corner of the room directly across from the sex swing. An unoccupied area, where a ring of cushy, armless chairs surrounda small table with a variety of snacks laid out. Notably, there are pillows on the floor, too. This place knows its audience, that’s for sure.

Next to the seating circle is a wide soft-drink bar, since the club is substance-free, and Lee stops to grab a soda. The bartender hands over his Coke in a tall, icy glass with only one straw, and as the condensation drips tantalizingly down the side, Tripp desperately hopes that Lee is planning to share. His mouth is like the fucking Sahara.

Wordlessly, Leander tugs Tripp’s leash as he relocates to one of the soft chairs, hanging onto his drink as he motions for Tripp to kneel on the pillow by his side. As soon as they’re both settled, Lee drops Tripp’s leash and focuses on offering him soda via the straw, which Tripp drinks down gratefully. When he’s had his fill, he sighs and lets his head drop to rest on Lee's thigh.

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