Page 11 of Fire & Ice

It’s enough. It has to be.

Turning his attention to his morning routine, Leander takes his time washing up. Meticulously brushing his teeth and styling his hair, he gives his face and body a quick, soapy wipedown before wandering naked into his actual bedroom to find some clean clothes. He ignores the empty bed standing cold and unused in the corner, and tries not to think about Tripp lying warm and pliant less than twenty feet away.

Rummaging through his dresser drawers, Leander remembers that he works tonight, so there’s no sense in wasting a nice outfit on today. If he’s being honest, once Tripp is gone, the only things scheduled on his docket are cleaning up around the apartment and mentally debriefing. His stomach twists when he inadvertently thinks about Tripp again, still sacked out peacefully, sated and unbothered. Determined to work through it, Leander ignores the tugging in his gut to return to the playroom bed.

Boundaries.T-shirt and boxer-briefs it is.

Out in the kitchen, he sets coffee brewing and cracks eggs into a pan, scrambling and seasoning them absently while he reviews the scene from the night before in his head. It truly was an excellent first encounter, and Leander feels good about his decision to go easy on Tripp, to start small and simple with something they both needed and could definitively handle.

Truthfully, touching Tripp for the first time—being granted full access to every part of his body, being handedcompletecontrol of his pleasure—was a lot for Leander, too. Being an experienced Dom makes a scene like that look simple on paper, but to add in the confusing emotions he’s battling towards Tripp himself? That changes the entire game, and Leander is at least self-aware enough to recognize and account for that.

Still, he’s pleased with his own performance, and Tripp seemed more than satisfied, as well. The fact that he’s still unconscious supports that theory: Leander knows first-hand that the man rarely manages more than four hours at a time,especially when he’s not in his own bed. Since they fell asleep around three a.m. and it’s fast approaching noon, that’s double what Tripp is used to getting.

If nothing else and at the barest minimum, it would appear that they did accomplish what they set out to do—blow off some steam, shed stress, and help each other unwind in order to achieve more quality rest and relaxation. That’s great, and it’ssomething for which Leander feels he can be proud. He just hopes that the tone he set was compelling enough for Tripp to be inspired to do it again.

An enthusiastic yawn from behind him has Leander whirling around, letting the hot pan he’s holding clatter noisily down onto the stovetop. It’s probably just as well, since the sight that greets him would’ve likely resulted in a loss of limb control, regardless. If ever there was a doubt in Leander’s mind that the submissive is the one with all therealpower and control in a relationship, Tripp himself would clear up that confusion simply by existing.

“Tripp,” Leander exclaims, knowing full-well that it’s useless to try and pretend he’s not affected by a sleep-rumpled Tripp clad only in his boxers and his collar, standing easily in the middle of Leander’s kitchen like he belongs there.

“Stole your toothbrush, Sir,” Tripp says ruefully, shifting on his feet and rubbing at his forearms, like he thinks Leander might scold him and hasn’t entirely decided whether hewantsthat or not. It does things to Leander—has him crowding Tripp bodily up against the breakfast bar without a second thought.

This is allowed, he tells himself as Tripp’s hands find their way to his waist. Tripp is still wearing his collar. He’s still playing by the rules, and so am I.

Still, Leander knows he should check. Perhaps Tripp was only being cheeky in using the honorific, and doesn’t even realize that his collar is still on. Watching Tripp’s face carefully for any change in his expression, Leander ignores the way their chests are pressed together, the way his groin is already stirring with interest, and lifts his hand to slip fingers underneath the thin leather wrapped around Tripp’s neck.

“This truly looks lovely on you,” he remarks, enjoying the way Tripp blushes under his attention. “Did you mean to leave it on? In the future, I won’t ask. But seeing as how this is new for you...” Trailing off, Leander pulls his bottom lip in-between his teeth and peers up at Tripp with wide, innocent eyes. It’s a dirty move, and Tripp’s gaze goes predictably glassy upon receipt, which is satisfying.

“Oh, I meant to leave it on. Sir.”

That’s all the permission Leander needs. He reaches up to cup the back of Tripp’s head and pull him in for a searing kiss that’s more tongue and possession than anything else, but that’s how it needs to be for Leander right now. To his delight, Tripp melts in his arms, allowing his head to be tipped and pulled in whatever direction Leander likes, moaning and sighing as his body is manipulated.

It takes every last ounce of strength Leander has in him to pull away, but he does it, stepping back with a hand on Tripp’s bare chest and feeling thoroughly pleased with the way the man’s eyes remain closed long after his mouth is gone.

“Go and kneel by the couch,” he instructs. “You may take a pillow for your knees—the one on the side, there.” He watches as Tripp goes, noting the way his boxers have ridden up slightly in the back, really highlighting the striations of muscle in the man’s ass and thighs. Tripp is stunning from any angle,but walking away nearly nude turns him next-level, as far as Leander is concerned.

Ripping his gaze away, he turns back to the mess on the stove, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and transferring a sizable portion of eggs onto it. From inside the fridge, Leander retrieves a bowl of fruit salad, scooping out a hefty serving and piling it next to the eggs. He takes his time, pouring a cup of coffee and making it up the way he knows Tripp likes—black, one sugar—even though he personally prefers his coffee to resemble melted ice cream.

Once he’s satisfied with the meal, Leander rips a paper towel from the roll and grabs a fork from the drawer. Picking the items up alongside the plate and his mug, he makes his way over to a compliantly-kneeling Tripp. Sitting down on the couch with the food in his lap, Leander places the mug on the side table and meets Tripp’s gaze head-on.

He raises an eyebrow, making sure to take a moment and say out loud, “You don’t need to do this. If you like, you can remove that collar, make yourself a plate, and join me here on the couch. However—” Leander pauses, shifting his gaze to the array of fruit and selecting a juicy-looking blueberry, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger. Raising the berry to Tripp’s eye-level, he holds it out. “I don’t want to be unclear. I would very much like to feed you, exactly like this.”

Tripp’s face does several things very quickly, and Leander can tell that he’s thinking, which allows him hope that he isn’t pushing too hard. Hand-feedingwason Tripp’s list of “yellow” kinks—items that weren’t known to him specifically, but that he was open to trying. However, part of Leander’s job as the Dom is figuring out appropriatetimingfor such introductions to new things. They’ve only begun their exploration together withinthe last twenty-four hours, and equally, only decided tokeepexploring within the last ten minutes.

It’s too much.

He’s about to give Tripp an out, to let him off the hook without consequence, when Tripp surprises him. Leander watches in abject fascination as Tripp leans forward, parting his lips and closing them around his fingertips, sucking the offered blueberry into his mouth in amuchmore erotic fashion than is strictly necessary. It leaves Leander wholly affected, cock stirring to life unbidden in-between his legs. Technically, this ishisparty—Tripp’s only doing what was asked of him, and yet, he’s so easy and free about it, the act could be mistaken for something he doesevery single day,by choice.

Not for the first time, Leander finds himself in awe of the man kneeling before him, and incredibly interested in pushing him to the edge of his limits. For now, he simply pops a strawberry in his own mouth and chews thoughtfully, trying to appear more together than he feels. After several bites of fruit—and Tripp learning that he can absolutely get away with using his tongue to swipe any juice dripping from his fingers—Leander starts gathering some eggs onto the fork and offering them to Tripp directly.

Interestingly enough, Tripp looks disappointed by the change in utensil, but Leander sticks to his guns and doesn’t sub out the fork for his fingers. Part of training Tripp in the lifestyle will be teaching him that he doesn’t always get to dictate the terms. That it isn’t a given for him to get whatever he wants, not if what hewantsisn’t in line with what Leanderneeds. The reverse is true as well, of course—Leander’s not selfish.

While he adamantly refuses to feed Tripp eggs with his fingers, he does pause to allow him to drink, with Leander holding the mug, naturally. Tripp seems surprised to find thecoffee made to his liking and he says so, dropping a delayed “Sir,” at the end of his remark, nearly forgetting. The interaction suggests to Leander that he should set up a punishment structure, just in case this continues to be an issue in the future. He files that away to muse over later.

“A good Dom puts his sub’s needs first,” Leander says, answering a question that Tripp doesn’t actually ask. The look Tripp gives him in return is full of both wide-eyed wonder and open appreciation, and Leander finds himself enjoying watching his friend discover what it’s like to be a submissive, to beLeander’swell-cared-forsubmissive.

“I’m entirely pleased you let me feed you, Tripp,” he says casually, moving the empty plate to the table and carding fingers through Tripp’s messy hair. “Selfishly, I’d love to keep you like this all day. You look incredible, and I’d love to see you on your knees with your head on my thigh while we watch TV, or let you warm my cock for as long as you can stand it before coming down your throat.”

Tripp’s pupils visibly expand as Leander talks, but he sits calmly with his hands folded in his lap—sopatient,soperfect. Leander clears his throat before continuing, trying to hide how affected he is. “However, just this once, I think that we should debrief, instead. While it pains me to ask you to remove your collar, I think it’s for the best. I cannot put into words how much joy it brings me to see you wearing it, but for this conversation, we must be equals.”

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