Make Me Soar (11 page)

Alan stood by the lounge window, feeling a little warmer as he gazed down at the river. There were a few mad souls out there jogging along the paths that ran alongside the riverbank. Alan shook his head at the sight.

Give me a swim in a heated pool
any
day
.

The thought served as a reminder. He hadn’t been for a swim in nearly five days. Three times a week he swam thirty-two lengths of the Olympic-sized pool at the Manchester Aquatics Centre, a distance which equated to roughly a mile. It was enough to keep him fit, combined with the weights he kept at home in his cellar, which he’d turned into a home gym.

He threw a glance toward Dorian’s bedroom. The previous night’s breakthrough had filled him with hope that he might get to go home pretty soon. He didn’t begrudge the lad one minute of the time he’d spent there, but it was time to get his life back on track, even though a tiny part of him was loath to leave Dorian.

Except he knew he was going nowhere just yet. There was still unfinished business to attend to. Once Dorian had put his mind at rest,
then
he would think about going home. And Alan meant to fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle once they’d had breakfast. There was too much about Dorian that he didn’t know.

The coffee machine gurgled out its last, signaling its completion, and Alan went to pour himself a mug. He reached into the bread box to pull out a couple of slices of bread and then popped them into the toaster.

“Morning.”

He swung around. Dorian was standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, dressed in a pair of sweatpants. His feet and upper body were bare.

Alan smiled. “Good morning. Coffee?” Without waiting for a reply, he poured out another mug and handed it to Dorian. “Toast is on.”

He grabbed the butter from the fridge and two plates from the cabinet. Dorian clasped his hands around the mug, inhaling the rich aroma. Alan chuckled.

“You having a coffee machine was a relief. And such a good one too.” He eyed the machine appreciatively. “It’s a bean-to-cup model, right? That must have set you back a pretty penny.”

Dorian’s expression changed, becoming more guarded. “My parents bought it.” He stared into his mug. “Just like they bought everything in this place.”

Alan spread butter over the toasted bread and handed a slice to Dorian on a plate. Then with his own piece and his mug, he followed Dorian into the lounge to sit at the table. Dorian ate in silence, his gaze on the joggers, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

“Tell me about yourself,” Alan suggested when he’d finished his toast.

Dorian shrugged. “Not a lot to tell, really. I’m an only child. My parents live in Cheshire, and up until last year, I lived with them. I moved out about six months ago.” He glanced around the flat. “They found this place for me and made sure it had everything I could possibly need.”

There was an edge of bitterness to his voice that told Alan there was a lot more to his story, but he didn’t press things any further. It was clear Dorian didn’t want to talk about it. When Dorian had eaten his last mouthful of toast, Alan took the plates back into the kitchen. Once he’d placed them in the washing-up bowl, he came back into the lounge and sat on the couch farthest away from the window.

“Come and sit down.” He wanted Dorian comfortable for the next part.

There was a moment’s hesitation before Dorian complied. He sat on the other couch, leaning forward, elbows balanced on his knees, holding his mug. Alan took in the young man’s careful expression. The dark circles under his eyes were less pronounced, but there was still a pallor about him, an air of…
something
.

What makes you tick, Dorian?

A line from
Dune
, one of his favorite films, came to mind:
A beginning is a very delicate time
. Alan took a sip of coffee, regarded the young man seated opposite, and took his first step.

“Tell me how you came to be at Collars & Cuffs.”

Dorian raised his chin, eyes wide. He licked his lips and then took a long drink from his mug. Alan waited. Dorian’s reaction told him he’d asked the right question.

“I was eighteen,” he said at last. “My boyfriend at the time—Justin—wanted to check out the club, and he dragged me along. That night there was a demonstration going on using the St. Andrew’s Cross. It was plain from Justin’s face that he wasn’t interested, but I wanted to watch.”

“Why do you think Justin wanted to go there in the first place?” Alan asked, putting his empty mug on the table and then leaning back against the cushions.

Dorian’s brow creased. “To be honest, I think he’d seen something on the Internet and wanted to see more. But one look at the Dom using a whip on the sub was apparently enough. He wanted to leave right then, but I found it fascinating, so I said I’d stick around and watch. He went into the bar and stayed there for the rest of the night until I was ready to leave.”

Alan gazed thoughtfully at Dorian’s wistful expression. “What fascinated you?”

Dorian’s gaze met his. “It was the look on the sub’s face when the scene finished. He looked… I suppose blissed out is a good way to put it. When his master had taken care of his back, I went across to speak to him.” He stretched out to put his mug on the table and then resumed his careful position. “I asked him how it felt.” He smiled. “He couldn’t describe it. He said the nearest he got to putting it into words was to say he’d felt like he was flying.”

The expression on Dorian’s face was one of naked longing, and Alan’s throat tightened to see it. He pushed his emotions to one side and brought his focus back to the conversation.

“I take it Justin didn’t become a member?”

Dorian snorted. “I told him I wanted to, and he told me I was depraved. We broke up after that.”

“He was no loss, by the sound of it.”

Dorian laughed. “Yeah. I was definitely better off without him. But to be fair, it wasn’t exactly working out. The visit to Collars & Cuffs provided the catalyst, that’s all.”

“So you became a member.” Alan folded his arms across his chest.

Dorian nodded. “I wanted what that sub had experienced. After I’d spoken with a few of the subs, I had a name for it—subspace. I played with a few Doms, did a few scenes, and began to learn about being a submissive. But it didn’t happen.”

“You didn’t find what you were looking for?”

Dorian shook his head. “My first scene was with a riding crop. The Dom was pleased—
he
obviously got something out of it—but it left me… wanting.”

Alan lowered his arms. “Didn’t you say something to him?
You
were supposed to get something out of it too, you know?”

A look of sadness flitted across his face. “I know, but I didn’t want to say anything. Instead, I acted how I’d seen the other subs act.”

Alan stilled. “You
faked
achieving subspace?” He scowled. “Didn’t the Dom notice?”

Dorian huffed. “He didn’t say anything, so maybe I did a good job of it.”

Alan was appalled. “That Dom—is he still at the club?” He hated to think that the Doms at Collars & Cuffs could be fooled so easily.
Surely they could tell the difference?

“He left about five years ago. But it wasn’t long after that scene that I worked out what I was doing wrong.”

Alan held up his hand to stop him. “Dorian, you weren’t doing
anything
wrong.”

“But I
must
have been,” Dorian wailed, wringing his hands. “Do you know
how many times
I signed a contract for a three month trial period with a Dom, only to find he didn’t want to take it any further when we reached the end? So there
had
to be something wrong with me.” He frowned. “The only thing I got out of it all was that I became a well-trained sub. And once I’d read a few things on the Internet, I knew what I needed to do.” He pressed his lips together, his jaw set.

Alan was cold inside at the thought of this beautiful boy believing he was at fault. He couldn’t help feeling angry that not one Dom at the club had seen past Dorian’s act. His first impression of the sub had been that Dorian was “playing” at submission.

If
I
could see that, why the hell couldn’t anyone else?

“What did you find on the net?” He was almost afraid to ask.

Dorian clasped his hands together and studied them. “I read that pain releases endorphins, and that it was these endorphins which created that euphoria—subspace. So obviously I needed more pain than other subs to get me to that state.”

A wave of sadness rolled over Alan as he suddenly saw Dorian’s behavior at the club in a whole new light. The club’s resident “pain slut” was only a young man desperately seeking something that had been out of his reach.

The pain in Dorian’s eyes as he recalled his experiences was heartbreaking.

Dorian seemed unaware of Alan’s reaction. “I made a point of seeking out those Doms who had a reputation for being a little harsher. Well, you know now that it didn’t work.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “I began to get quite paranoid about it. I became convinced that the Doms had all been talking among themselves and that word was getting around—’Dorian says he wants to submit, but he doesn’t’—and that was why no one wanted to extend my contract.”

Alan didn’t trust himself to speak. His chest was tight as he contemplated what Dorian must have been going through.

Dorian got up from the couch and wandered over to the window, then leaned against it, his head resting on the glass. “I tried harder and harder to get deeper and deeper into my scenes, chasing the pain, waiting for it to reach this…
crescendo
to carry me off in a wave of ecstasy, but it never happened. And in the meantime, I started to see all the relationships that were forming between Doms and their subs.” He swallowed. “First Master Leo and Gabe. God, it was so obvious when you saw them that they were perfect for each other. And when Gabe died, I watched all the light go out of Leo. I thought I could replace Gabe, but then Alex came along. Then Miles and Pietro became all loved up. Then Master Thomas and Peter. Jonathon and Dillon. Ben and Scott.” Dorian gulped. “I watched all these subs finding someone who fit them perfectly, and yet there I was, alone. And it only made me realize that there had to be something wrong with me that everyone else was getting right. Part of me had to be missing.”

In that moment all Alan wanted to do was to take Dorian into his arms. Some inner sense bade him wait, however.
There’s more to come out
.

“Now at least I know what you meant when you said you were waiting for the pain to take you.”

Dorian nodded. “I’d exhausted all the avenues at the club. It got to the point where I’d approach a Dom for a scene and he’d automatically design one around inflicting pain. I mean, I was Dorian, the pain slut, right?” His disparaging laughter tore at Alan’s heart. “But even Collars & Cuffs has limits, and I knew I’d reached them. When I first saw the flier for the Lab, I found it interesting. It wasn’t until recently that I figured it was the missing piece. I went to Berlin expecting to push my boundaries.” He turned his head to look Alan in the eye. “I got more than I bargained for.”

Alan fought hard to keep his emotions in check. He recalled a conversation with Leo before Christmas, when Alan had been asking about Dorian. He’d hinted at the possibility of doing a scene with him and had wondered what Dorian might want.

Leo had gazed thoughtfully at him. “I used to think I knew what Dorian wanted, but after seeing his scene with Andrew, maybe you should try talking with him.”

There was one more piece of the puzzle left, and it was a vital one.

“So, what happened with Andrew Barrett?”

Dorian froze. He stared at Alan, face white. “Fuck,” he said softly. He turned away, his forehead pressed once more against the windowpane.

Alan rose from his seat on the couch and crossed the room to stand beside Dorian. “I have to ask,” he explained quietly. “I watched you in that Shibari scene, and it was evident that something
momentous
happened. That scene got me to see you with new eyes. You intrigued me, Dorian.”

Dorian slowly turned to face him. “Me?”

Alan could almost hear the thought.
Why would
I
intrigue you?
He nodded. “You, lad. I wanted to know more about you. I’ve been asking around, trying to get to the bottom of the Dorian
enigma
.” He laughed at the look of sheer disbelief on Dorian’s face. Slowly, Alan reached out and cupped Dorian’s stubbled cheek, ignoring the way he stiffened initially. “You fascinate me.”

Dorian opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, blinking rapidly.

Alan withdrew his hand and tilted his head. “So what did happen?”

Dorian let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “He took everything I thought I knew about subspace and blew it all away. In not one, but two scenes, he took me to the brink without a single whip, flogger, cane, crop, paddle….” He swallowed hard. “I asked him to fuck me, and he refused and stopped the scene. Do you know how many times I’ve wondered about that night? If I hadn’t asked, might I have finally found what I was looking for?” Dorian shook his head. “And it was just
sensory play
, for God’s sake. How the fuck could he bring me
so close
with nothing but sensory play?” He stared at Alan. “That scene changed
everything
for me. It shook everything I’d believed in, made me doubt everything I thought I knew. And the longer things went on, the more desperate I became. I’d made up my mind to leave Collars & Cuffs. Going to Berlin was my last resort.” He fell silent and went back to staring out of the window. “And look how that ended, yeah?”

Alan regarded him, his stomach churning. Dorian’s last words went by almost unnoticed as excitement gripped him. All of a sudden his path was there in front of him, shining like gold. His heart beat faster while his mind raced.