Authors: CB Conwy
Tags: #Gay Romance
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
A Russian Bear
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2010 CB Conwy
Cover illustration by Alessia Brio
Published with permission
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: June 2010
Printed in the USA
A Russian Bear
It wasn’t like he was in the habit of finding his subs in bars; Mischa really preferred to hunt at the club. There, the rules were straightforward. Doms were Doms and subs were for flogging, fucking, and bossing around. This was a nice, upscale hotel bar, and the only sub they’d ever heard about was probably the sandwich. He missed his leathers, too; far easier to look his part as a badass Dom in those.
He impatiently looked around to see if he could spot the boy. He tried half-heartedly to remember the name -- Tim something? That was another annoying thing; Mischa normally didn’t bother with names. In his opinion, “boy” worked just fine. He never had more than one scene with a sub, and he had far more important things to do during that time than learning their names. Making them scream, mainly.
Toby had described this particular boy to Mischa, but “dark-haired, slender, sexy” fit a lot of guys. Toby might have said a few other things, too, but Mischa always concentrated on the important part -- the kinks.
However, Toby’s description did fit a young guy sitting at a table in the corner. It had been a long time since Mischa had had a scene with anyone, and perhaps that was why the attractive, dark-haired man caught his eye as soon as he turned toward the corner. Or perhaps it was the young man’s age; he was easily thirty years younger than the tired salesmen and conference participants in the bar.
Mischa watched him blatantly flirting with an older man who didn’t seem the least bit responsive to the young guy’s efforts. The chubby guy didn’t exactly look the part of a master, but if there was one thing Mischa had learned during his years as a Dom, it was that they came in all shapes and sizes. Mischa frowned; if this was his date, it wasn’t very smooth to hit on someone else when the boy really had a date with Mischa.
The guy looked up and caught his eyes. Oh. Definitely interest there.
The chubby man said something and got up. Dark-haired and sexy tried to hold him back, but the man just smiled apologetically and started to leave, going to the bar to pay their bill.
The boy looked after him with a despondent look on his face, and his eyes caught Mischa’s again.
Mischa smiled. He was almost certain that this was his boy. His focus never wavered as he crossed the floor until he was standing next to the young man “Hi.”
The boy hesitated, then he smiled. “Hello.”
“Are you Tim?” Mischa really hoped that he had got the name right.
“Tom.” The young man looked confused.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Mischa. Would you like a drink?” Again, not something he normally wasted his time with when he interviewed subs, but Toby had told him to go gently on this one.
“He’s not used to the scene yet,” Toby had said, “but his old Dom is a friend of mine and wants to make sure he’s feeling at home in Boston.”
So now Mischa’s job was to make the young man feel at home, and he had every intention of doing so. His playroom could be downright cozy, in his opinion.
The boy hesitated, still looking a little insecure. Then he seemed to make up his mind. “Okay, but only a mineral water. I have papers to grade tomorrow.”
Mischa nodded approvingly and got two mineral waters -- he never drank before a scene and didn’t want his sub to, either -- and went back to the table in the corner.
“Are you a teacher?
“Yes. Well, a TA, so I’m the lucky owner of a bunch of opinionated undergrads with opinionated midterm papers.”
“That sounds -- challenging.” Mischa smiled, drinking from his glass.
Tom shrugged. “It’s a nice way to make a little extra, though, and it sharpens my skills.”
For a moment, Mischa hesitated. Could this be the wrong guy? This boy wasn’t exactly getting straight to the point. Then Tom leaned in, smiling conspiratorially. “Of course, I like to sharpen my skills here as well.” He winked.
Mischa laughed. “Well, it’s always good to be... diverse.” He liked Tom; the boy was a nice contrast to the slutty subs Mischa met sometimes. Okay, all the time, then. And he liked the boy’s straightforwardness, too.
“So, what do you do for a living?” Tom inquired.
The boy really wasn’t getting to the point. “I own my own business.” Mischa decided to push things along a bit; even though small talk was nice, he by far preferred to spend his night in the playroom.
“So, tell me what you like. I can string you up and whip you ‘til you scream, or you can get down on your knees and suck me off with your hands tied behind your back. I will fuck you, though.”
He saw the incomprehension on Tom’s face change to shocked surprise and knew that he had fucked up. Big time.
What the fuck? This guy thought he was some kind of slave boy?
Tom had been at the bar pretty early, meeting up with Robert. The man had really been letting himself go since Carl died.
Tom missed his uncle, too, but it was almost a year since the man passed away; Robert had to get back to the world of the living.
That had been Tom’s mission this evening. There was a faculty party tonight, and Tom had charmed, begged, and chided Robert to go, ordering him to meet Tom here at the hotel bar so that Robert was already out of the house and therefore at least dressed.
It was a hopeless battle, though, and Tom had been about to leave when the stranger had said hi. He knew he should have gone straight home, but the guy looked friendly enough, and he had a serious thing for kind eyes and just a little gray at the temples. And how the hell did the man know Tom’s name?
The stranger had been flirting outrageously, and Tom had been flattered. So flattered that he was seriously considering breaking his rule about one-night stands. Okay, granted, he hadn’t exactly been in any situations in which to uphold that rule in the first place, but anyway. Principles were principles.
And a little flirting had never hurt anyone.
Now he could feel his jaw drop to what was bound to be an unflatteringly low position. He snapped his mouth shut and put down his glass, hard.
“What the fuck makes you think I’m willing to be your slave boy?” Tom snarled now. Not polite, but he was angry. The man -- Mischa -- looked horrified.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry. You’re not the guy I was supposed to meet, are you?”
“I don’t fucking think so! But I thought you already knew who I am? And just how the hell do you know my name, by the way?”
Mischa looked more than a little flustered. “I don’t, I mean, I’m bad with names, and I was going to meet someone here, Tim or something. And I thought... I mean, you said you liked to practice your skills, so I thought...”
“Not those skills!” The couple sitting at the table next to them looked up, and Tom lowered his voice. “I meant my flirting skills! Hell, I’m not even that experienced.” He started to get up.
“No! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. It’s just that I saw you with that guy, and you’re way out of his league, and you were flirting with him so openly and he turned you down, so I thought...” The poor guy was talking himself further and further into a corner. Tom would have found it hilarious if he wasn’t still so offended.
He sat down again. “You thought my dead uncle’s husband was some sort of slave master? Are you out of your mind?”
“Your dead...?” His would-be Dom blanched. “Oh, fuck. I’m so fucked.”
Against his own will, Tom giggled. Mischa looked at him, puzzled. “Oh yeah, you’re so fucked.”
Mischa looked a bit relieved. Probably from not having his teeth knocked out yet. “I’m really sorry, I can’t say that enough.”
“Nope, you can’t.” Tom wasn’t going to make it easier than necessary. Not even if the guy was so flustered that it was almost cute. In a rather predatory way, of course. And with those eyes and that hair... Tom tore himself away from his drooling. Being offended, now.
“If it’s any consolation whatsoever, the description fit you perfectly. Young, dark-haired, and hot.” Mischa gestured helplessly as if that said everything.
“And so you assumed that I was your date? It didn’t occur to you that your description fit a lot of people along with me? And that the name didn’t?” Tom nodded to Robert as his uncle’s widower left the bar. Probably to go home to an empty house. Again. Tom sighed inwardly. Well, one battle at a time. Right now, he was busy defending his virtue.
“I’m sorry! The description fit and you’re really hot and I’m really horny...” Mischa’s voice faltered, and he wouldn’t meet Tom’s eyes. “I guess I was thinking with my dick.”
“I guess you were. And not very clearly.”
Mischa snorted. “No, this is probably not its brightest moment.” He took a sip of his water.
Tom smiled sympathetically. “Perhaps not.” He took a sip, too.
The silence was getting a little awkward. Mischa most of all wanted to flee the place and try to save what little was left of his dignity. He almost didn’t hear it when Tom spoke. “Tell me about him?”
“About who?” Mischa looked up, confused.
Tom blushed. “Tell me about the guy you... were supposed to meet. How do you do that kind of thing?” Tom sounded curious, and Mischa guessed that he at least owed the guy an explanation.
“Well, do what I just did, but make damn sure you have the right person in front of you.” He made a self-deprecatory gesture and took hold of his coat; better get out of here before he made more of a fool out of himself than he already had.
“That’s all it takes?”
Mischa stopped and watched Tom. The boy was casually playing with a napkin. To Mischa’s astonishment, he realized that the victim of his blunder wasn’t offended; Tom was... at least interested. Mischa sat back again, slowly assessing the young man in front of him.
“Well, as I told you, I had a date. A friend of mine asked me to hook up with a young guy who’s new to the city and to the scene. I promised him to meet the boy here and, well, I suppose I didn’t. Meet him, that is.”
“I thought there were... places to meet when you have that kind of... interest?” Mischa had to work hard not to smile; Tom was trying so hard to not offend and still sate his curiosity.
“There are. There’s a club I like to visit, and I have a playroom at home, too.”
“And you take men there, and they get to be your slave?”
That was an interesting phrasing -- like it was something you obtained. Something you liked. Mischa shook himself inwardly. “Well, I don’t really like the term ‘slave.’ They’re submissives, and they allow me to do what I want to them.”
Tom nodded slowly. “I guess I can see the attraction.”
Now it was Mischa’s turn to be curious. “How do you mean?”
Tom was blushing now. “Well, isn’t the point that you’re... obliged to do what your partner wants?” The boy tried to keep his cool, but his voice broke on the last word. Mischa thought it was really cute.
“That’s a turn on for you? Surrendering power to your lover?” Tom nodded reluctantly. It was such a long time since Mischa had had someone new to this that he had forgotten the thrill of pushing and probing.
“Is it the submission that attracts you? The obedience?” Mischa asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral. No scaring the boy off.
Tom obviously tried hard to explain. Judging by the bulge in his pants, his brain couldn’t get enough blood at the moment. “I guess so. If I go with you, then I have to do what you say.” He looked horrified by what he’d just said.
Mischa nodded slowly. “I get it.” He hesitated. “Is it something you’d want to explore?” He felt his nerves disappear, and he sat back, relaxed and very... ready.
This was going way faster than Tom had ever imagined. He had to clear his voice before any sound came out. “You mean, with you? Now?” Okay, maybe there was a hint of a squeak in his voice there. Maybe it was more than a hint.
Mischa nodded, looking self-assured. Sexy. “Yes. If you want to.”
Tom felt as if he was balancing on an edge, wanting so much to take the step that would bring him into the unknown.
He nodded abruptly. “Yes.”
Mischa smiled a slow smile. “Good. Then come with me.” He got up, waiting for Tom.
Tom looked up at him, not getting his point.
“This is a hotel bar, remember? They have rooms upstairs.”
Tom slowly got up. This was suddenly very real, and for a moment he was close to bolting. But there was no way around admitting to himself how excited he already was, so he followed Mischa, keeping close while the man got them a room.
In the lobby, Tom felt Mischa’s hand slide around his back, guiding him in the right direction. It made Tom’s breath hitch and his dick harden. Mischa smiled knowingly and got them into the elevator, never letting go of him. They were alone in there, and Tom felt Mischa’s hand glide down and squeeze his ass. This time it was definitely a squeak.
Mischa laughed and gave Tom’s butt a smack. Then the doors opened and Tom was led down a long hallway. Mischa only let go of him long enough to open the door, then followed Tom into the room.
It was a standard hotel room. Nice and clean and very anonymous. So this was where he would learn about submission. Even the thought made his cock leap.
Mischa stopped in front of Tom and looked at him, serious. “I know that this is your first time doing this, so I’m going to establish some ground rules.” He sat down in the chair. Tom kept standing. The difference in power made him breathe faster.
“You’re going to have a safeword and a slow word. Your safeword is ‘red’ and it stops everything, no questions asked. Your slow word is ‘yellow’ and it gives you a breather. It’s like the traffic lights and should be easy to remember. That means that you can live out this experience and still get out of it if you get scared. Okay?”
“Isn’t it easier if I just say no?” The whole safeword thing seemed a little... contrived to Tom.
Mischa smiled his slow smile again. “Oh, you might say no. A lot. But that isn’t going to stop me; only your safeword is.” He got serious. “This gives you the opportunity to yell anything you want at me and still know that if you say ‘red’ everything stops. We use it to make you feel safe, and it’s important that you remember it. Okay?”