A Place for Cliff (3 page)

Pyotr made a slight chuckling sound not once losing the amused expression that Cliff liked seeing in the man’s eyes. “The man you saw was most likely Pavle, one of many brothers I have. He has just recently gone through a divorce and now resides at home with me. As for the rest. I’m a very dominant man. I tend to be very controlling in my relations, but that I don’t practice kink can be disappointing for most submissives.” Cliff’s gaze shifted away from him, perhaps a little perplexed as to how to file the new information away. “I also tend to have a voraciously demanding sexual appetite once I’ve chosen to become involved with someone. That too can be an issue for my lover.”

A ruddy color came over the top of Cliff’s cheeks and he glanced away.

Pyotr loved the color on the young man. As matter of fact, he was beginning to like a number of things about him, and could not deny that had the man already been given up to him, he would drag him onto his lap and fuck him that very moment. “Does that answer your question?” Pyotr shifted it back to him, mostly just to stall what he already considered inevitable between the two of them.

Cliff shrugged then, his eyes looking down at the ground at nothing particular, “I don’t mind that so much.” The words almost mumbled, but his thoughts were somewhere else.

“Mind?”

Cliff glanced at him then, “Not having kink. I don’t mind not having it.” He couldn’t say about the rest, as he’d never been with anyone with an insatiable appetite. He had never felt the bliss of being completely spent. He always felt like he could go another round.

“So you are a submissive then.” Again it was more a statement then a question.

“Wha-” Cliff’s mouth popped open like a carp, clamped back shut and his brow furrowed suddenly, “Ah, no.” The observation wasn’t his own. He’d always sought to be recognized as a Dom. Yet he wasn’t totally thrown that the other man suggested otherwise.

Pyotr strummed at his lip in thought. That Cliff’s self-perceptions were completely off track, didn’t come as a surprise—Cliff wasn’t the first man to deny his true submissive nature— but that he didn’t throw a fit right away was. “So you like to Dom over women or men?” He tossed the question out to lure the man to evaluate his self-proposed role.

Cliff’s eyes dropped to his hands clasped over the space between his spread legs, his elbows on knees. His response stalled. The truth was he didn’t Dom anyone really, not in the true sense of the word. And while he’d only slept with women, given the right opportunity he wouldn’t likely be opposed to being with a man—he just never pursued one before.

Pyotr waited but Cliff never spoke up. Even no answer was an answer for Pyotr and only required one more to confirm. “Have you ever been with a man before?”

Cliff’s eyes flickered towards him. The question didn’t offend him either, but then he knew it shouldn’t, a lot of people in BD played both sides. “Only once.”

“And what was it like for you?”

Cliff’s kept his gaze on his hands, keeping his eyes open not allowing himself to fall into a state of fantasy over the man while he sat right next to him. His response slipping out like a soft breeze. “I liked it.”
And probably more then he should
, but that was where his secret was. He’d played with one of the subs from the club off and on for some time. She had a kink for using a strap on and he’d discovered that he not only enjoyed being on the receiving end, he preferred it. And when he lost the wrestling match against the sexy slave Patronus was training it had been pure bliss—feeling the hot warmth of his cock deep inside him. When he should have felt humility he instead had zoned from it. It tugged at his mind that he’d rather receive over having his own cock submerged in someone’s body—
how twisted was that?
What guy doesn’t like fucking someone else?

Pyotr could see there was something else lingering just under the surface, but this wasn’t the sort of thing to push. In fact it was best to end the day at this point. Let that last thought sink in, and the rest would surface soon enough.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

VISIT #3

“So how do you feel about our sessions so far, Cliff?” Pyotr glanced over at the young man still hovering at the edge of the room, suffering against the wall rather than taking a seat to be comfortable. Cliff looked tense, uncertain about something, yet there was some deep-rooted yearning to enter that pricked at him. It showed in his eyes and the feet still pointing in the direction of the room.

Cliff’s eyes stared down at his fingers clasped in front of him, “I still don’t know why I’m here.”

“Don’t you?” Pyotr got up, crossing the room and passing where Cliff stood. He took a position on the wall just opposite him. It was a deliberate position—his body language telling the young man he was not to leave, that he would stay and face his demons today.

Cliff’s eyes followed the man’s every step, feeling the gates close as Pyotr leaned back against the wall. He wasn’t actually blocking the hallway that led out of the room, but the insinuation of a blocked path was there none the less.

Cliff paused, looking at him, and for the first time the young man appeared annoyed, yet reluctant to comment further on it.

Pyotr’s muscular arms crossed over his midsection, “I believe your purpose for being here is to set you into the proper role you were meant to play.”

“I told you before I’m a Dom.”

Pyotr didn’t miss the mental foot stomping tone. “You believe that because you were forced into caring for your sister under intense conditions and had to be the person in charge in your home life. You misplaced your sexual needs in the same role, which is why you have not been able to find satisfaction.”  Cliff’s expression and refusal to look Pyotr in the eyes said everything.

Pyotr kicked off the wall, one hand scooping over Cliff’s shoulder and eased him toward the center of the room allowing the younger man to face off with him when they stopped, “Give me your hands.”

“Why?”

“Do as I say.” The command came across as nonnegotiable.

Cliff held out his arms and just as Pyotr took hold of his wrists he felt the flighty panic. As if something would go wrong if he wasn’t able to escape.

Pyotr watched the emotional conundrum develop in the young man, but what he hadn’t expected was how quickly the panic became physical.

Cliff jerked back with all his body weight at once sending them both off balance. Pyotr had two choices—let go, which would have been counterproductive or go down with him. He quickly chose the latter, coming down on knees straddled over Cliff’s body. Where a whole new storm of emotions went into play.

Cliff’s arms thrashed about and still Pyotr held his wrists. When some spark changed in the older man, Cliff found his wrists slammed to the floor on either side of his head and firmly pinned.

Pyotr held Cliff down on the floor straddled over him and his wrists locked securely in his large hands. Cliff’s struggles shifted gears, pitching about his body in a defiantly, bratty manner that was turning Pyotr on. But right now this wasn’t foreplay for sex. This was about Cliff giving up his control; tying him up would be easier no doubt, but Cliff didn’t need control swiped from him. He needed to give it over. Growing up, there was no one to take over, to take care of things for him or his sister when there should have been, it all weighted down on the young man now. That was the part he needed most to let go of, but to someone that was going to be there for him when he did.

“Did anyone ever tell you, you’re such a
shejtan
?” Pyotr continued to ride out the young man’s writhing body bucking underneath him despite the erection he was quickly developing from it.

Cliff bowed up, testing the hold on his pinned arms, “What is that?”

“Brat.” Pyotr pressed harder leaning over him, with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Cliff’s lip pushed out in a defiant grimace, “Once or twice, maybe.”

Pyotr chuckled. He was sure somebody did. But did they find it as sexy on the young man as he did?

“Get off me.” Cliff bucked up against him again. But the imposing weight of the man stayed put and he only succeeded in grinding his growing hard-on against the man again. Each time the contact sent jolts of illicit currents through his balls and up his tail bone. He continued to struggle and buck with a lazy like motion wanting to cheat out another contact with the bulge growing rock-hard in Pyotr’s pants, but not so much he risked being set free.

“But this is where you brought us.” Pyotr felt it pertinent to point out the obvious.

“I didn’t want this.” More squirming, more deliberately accidental frotting.

“Then perhaps you should hand control over to someone who does know what you want.”

He stilled finally, looking up at Pyotr, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means when you are trying to control things, you don’t succeed very well in getting what you say you want, or what you actually need. So perhaps you should hand the controls over to someone who can bring you there.”

Cliff’s movements ebbed. “Is that someone you?” he asked, finding himself suddenly panting as if he’d just run around the block. He’d just asked the question he carried with him for the last two weeks. Just knowing the answer about to come, scared the hell out of him, regardless of which it was.

“It can be—you need only say you want me and I will do all the rest.” Pyotr sat back on his heels pulling Cliffs hand up with him and gathering his wrists together over his mid section, keeping them there and waited.

Cliff lay there watching the man watch him. He became increasingly aware of how close his hands were to the other man’s crotch and the erection that had stirred such an exquisite friction with his. It stole his breath away. He’d never felt such want in his life and it was almost painful that it had stopped. A kid with a raging hard-on and not a clue what to do with it. Heat brandished his finger tips, filling with the desire to touch him. The cock that clearly strained against the worn denim. He need only stretch out his fingers and he’d be able to feel the other man’s crotch, know if the bulge was straining with the same arousal as his was.

Cliff’s eyes shot up to Pyotr’s, fearful that his thoughts were easily readable.

As Pyotr remained over the young man, enjoying watching Cliff’s eyes drift down his body only to snap back up over and over, like a kid trying to snatch a cookie out from under watchful eyes. Cliff remained still under him now—all but his fingers. They were another story. Rather than seemingly trying to avoid any embarrassing contact, they were attempting to find that accidental touch on purpose.

“What do you need?” Pyotr asked of the subdued man under him, not at all restraining the amusement he felt.

Cliff’s attention came to a sudden focus, directed straight up at him with hopeful silvery blue eyes. “Can I come back? I mean in a few days instead of waiting a week?”

Pyotr had to take a deep breath just to keep himself from tearing into the young man’s lips that very moment.
Come Back?
As far as he was concerned Cliff could come back every day or better yet just stay.
Strides,
he reminded himself. He took another deep breath to steady the excitement he felt threatening to throw him out of his usual languorous pace. In strides.

“Only if you admit your visits here are beneficial to you.”

Cliff stuttered trying to come up with an answer. Hell he hadn’t even gotten his head wrapped around why he was here and he wasn’t so sure about being labeled a submissive at all. So how was he to know if coming here was beneficial? All he really knew is that he didn’t want to wait another seven days to see Pyotr again.

“Is saying I
want
to be here beneficial enough?”

Pyotr rocked up to get to his feet, purposely perpetuating the accident Cliff’s fingers sought after by pressing his growing arousal against the young man’s palms just seconds before letting his wrists go free, and pushed up off the floor.

“When did you have in mind?” Pyotr opened the floor for discussion. After all he did tell Cliff he need only say he wanted him and he would do the rest. Cliff wasn’t just a
shejtan
, he was a sly one at that. Pyotr grinned to himself.

Cliff sat up wrapping his arms around his knees as he watched the incredibly sexy man stroll to the desk in the far corner and glance at his appointment book. Cliff tried to calculate what would be considered acceptable. Three days seemed right, any longer and he might go out of his mind, anything sooner and the man might think he was just some crazy, love sick school boy.

“Three days, Sir.”

Pyotr stilled, his eyes flickered up. The nuances so evident it was almost like a hiccup in his smooth movements, but gone just as quickly. “Three it is.”

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

VISIT #4

Once again Pyotr had Cliff by his wrists, and even standing up Cliff discovered there was little he could do to break free from the older man’s strong hands. Like vice grips, but he wasn’t hurting him.

Pyotr held Cliff’s arms stretched out like wings. His eyes flickered to the metal snap-lock shackles on the wall and decided that instant, it was where he wanted this man. As he pressed into him, Cliff didn’t move making the connection between their bodies a solid contact. Another step into him and Pyotr was pushing the young man’s body backwards; one step after another til his back hit the wall. Lifting Cliff’s arms a little more, he pressed one wrist into the stainless steel clamp, the pressure of his wrist activating the locking plate and the shackles snapped shut around his arm. Pyotr repeated the capture of Cliff’s other wrists then stepped away. That Cliff’s hips pushed out in an attempt to stay with him didn’t go unnoticed. Nor did he fail to notice the young man’s cock went hard against him like a Porsche taking off at 0 to 60 in three seconds flat.

Pyotr eased around, turning his back to the now shackled man silently and stroked his own erection through his pants and made a slight adjustment to regain some comfort in the area before turning back around to face his new captive.