Chapter 24 #2
Restrained me
That verse had come from Roy covering him, holding onto him, when DJ learned of the death of his brothers. His voice faltered. It wasn’t planned, but the demand of the song took over.
Music had been his Master until Roy arrived in his life, and they would always hold him between them. Unless Roy didn’t want him.
The drum intro started, then that bass slide, followed by the guitars.
DJ turned to the left side of the stage, where the first dancer stepped out, two dancers twisting behind him in urgent, tight moves.
Their hands reached for him, though the Dom made a dismissive motion that sent them to their knees and spinning away.
Muscular, leather pants, no shirt. He had fiery eyes and hands in half curls at his side. He stared at DJ across the stage like he already owned him. Wanted to own him.
Held me - hold me.
You bound me in my pain
Burned its lines into my soul.
My flesh, my bones, my mind
I’m a pillar of fire
Becoming ash in your hands.
Time for the chorus.
I am yours
I am blissful as nothing
Lost in you
Part of you
Obviously.
DJ moved toward the Dom, at first eager, but when he started to drop to one knee, he hesitated. He wanted to surrender, but it wasn’t right.
This one wasn’t the right one.
As he launched into the next verse, he pivoted. Another Dom emerged on the platform to the back right. He had a 1950s look. Loose tie, fedora, fitted slacks, smoking a prop cigarette. He flicked it away and beckoned.
DJ came to him, executing the dance steps, a step forward, a step back, a turn or a sway, this way or that, body loose and fluid.
Dancers flanked him, emerging from three directions.
As their hands lifted toward the Dom, matching DJ’s gesture, they displayed the crisscrossed rope over their knuckles, glittering copper fringe feathering their wrists.
When they fell back, leaving him alone before the Dom, DJ’s dance, his body language, communicated his wariness but also his wish, his hope, that this Dom was the right one.
He wasn’t.
Those lights darkened, and red lights highlighted the back left platform.
This Master was blond, with a buzz cut and hard jawed face.
He wore jeans and boots, and had a whip, like Roy had had that night.
When he threw the end, DJ reached out. It coiled loosely around his arm, and he caught it in his hand, letting himself be pulled toward the male.
The Dom swaggered in his direction, put a hand out and curled it over his nape, but before he could bring him all the way in, DJ dipped his head, an attitude of respect, but also one that allowed him to twist and flow smoothly away.
Doesn’t matter the world
Heaven or hell
Purgatory
Your house or mine
We are meant to share it
Walk together
Be together
Where are you?
Two more Masters came out on stage. Each represented a different fantasy, was capable of fulfilling a different need. As he evaluated and each time reluctantly turned away, the Masters started to circle him, a warriorlike dance, staying close, following him around the stage.
DJ stopped several times to do the steps with them as he belted out the lyrics and chorus, letting the music, the mood, and the message carry him. A message that grew more insistent, pouring into the abyss before him.
The lights kept him from seeing where Roy sat, but he compared it to those times when Roy didn’t let him open his eyes until he said DJ could meet his gaze.
He gravitated toward one Dom, then another. Now they all held something. A whip. A rope. A chain. Cuffs. A fistful of ribbons.
Different types of ownership. Different demands toward DJ, the main character of the story, looking for surrender.
The other dancers wove in and out, offering themselves the way DJ almost had. The Doms turned away from DJ and accepted their submission as DJ kept singing and took center stage again.
I sing and you answer
I answer and you sing
When we came together
The music changed.
I am all yours
Space only matters
If you’re in it
With me.
I need you, need you, need you.
You fill up my space.
I am yours
I am blissful as nothing
Lost in you
Part of you
Obviously.
There was only one to whom he could surrender, find the true soaring flight that held everything, the journey he wanted and needed.
The Masters had returned to circle him, hands brushing against him, him touching them, looking for that spark.
They fell in line, one stepping in behind the next, the visual effect as if they were merging into one man. Smoke billowed out and over them, making them disappear. DJ faced the back of the stage, seeking where they’d gone.
By never letting go.
The walls you build around me
Can't be broken down
You make them that strong
To take care of me.
It makes me feel safe.
You make me feel safe.
And loved.
What Alan had said about Roy.
DJ lifted his eyes slowly. Though he faced the back of the stage, the five large screens captured his expression, showing how his gaze traveled, seeking.
Spotlights flashed onto the right and left corners of the stage’s upper levels, now occupied by dancers whose feet weren’t on the ground.
They were suspended in elaborate webs, two more Dom-like dancers rotating them with tethers of glittering crimson rope.
They watched over them while their subs were so helplessly, gracefully bound.
During that display, the five Doms had leaped into different positions, three on the left stage platforms, two on the right. As a lift behind Sy’s drum kit rose into view, all eyes turned in that direction.
Another Master stood upon it.
The Master.
He was silhouetted against the center screen, flashing with falling bars of light. He had his back to DJ, but his head was tilted to his shoulder.
The dancer Marshall had found with a build and look similar to Roy’s wasn’t executing the move they’d practiced that day.
But he wore a suit like Roy usually wore, and his stillness was like Roy’s.
Coaching him hadn’t been difficult, since DJ had mapped Roy’s every feature, every mannerism, on his heart and soul.
The center screen changed, showing DJ’s expression as he approached the steps. The screens flanking it on either side provided a close-up of the dancer. Sharp gray eyes, short hair, still, hard face. An attitude of vigilance that matched his posture. Watching. Waiting.
DJ delivered the bridge in his trademark raw scream, giving the song its due. It wasn’t about polish. It was about what the words offered, and the depth of his feeling for them.
Leave me marked
But not destroyed
Master
Master
Master
With each repetition of the word Master, DJ broached another step. Lines of fire seemed to follow him up, a sizzling effect bordering the step edges to his left and right.
He’d lifted his left arm out to the side, his fingers trembling. Into the mic in his right hand, he sang each version of Master differently. Just as Roy contained many versions of what DJ wanted, so DJ hoped he would provide the same, as Roy’s submissive.
He’d reached the step below the silhouetted male. The dancer had stripped off the coat, dropping it to the side, revealing a prop gun in a shoulder harness.
DJ knelt, brought his arms down and wrists together, and then held them up above his head. The spotlights on the suspended dancers vanished, replaced by a burst of sparks that arced out from either side of the Roy-dancer’s platform and rained down on the stage.
DJ bent his elbows to tilt the mic toward him for the final verses.
A plea
A cry
An offering.
Of myself.
Lift me in both hands
Set me free to fly.
And I will always fly back to you.
To my Master.
Master.
Master.
I am yours
I am blissful as nothing
Lost in you
Part of you
Obviously.
These verses came down off that screaming ledge with a loud whisper of raw pain and revelation, the journey DJ and Roy had taken together these past months. As the final notes rolled away, DJ cut the mic, laid it on the step, and returned to his waiting position.
On his knees, wrists offered up for binding.
The echoes of the music and his voice faded. Maybe he’d gone into some weird space where he was blind and deaf to the world around him, as sometimes happened when he was creating, or performing.
But then he realized it was an expectant silence. Everyone was still and waiting, because something had happened that told them that was what the moment required.
He heard the purposeful stride then, moving up the side ramp to the platform where the dancer stood. The performer stepped away, and someone else took his place.
Someone who used Mountain Air Dial and smelled like a winter fire. DJ closed his eyes, and they stayed closed as a familiar touch brushed his brow, his mouth.
“Look at me, Dory.”
The wave of relief at hearing his Master’s name for him was so strong, he almost passed out. Maybe he would have, and never would have lived it down, but Roy’s hands closed over his wrists.
When he cracked open his eyes, Roy was on his heels in front of him, strong and broad and taking up all the space in DJ’s scope of vision.
I need you, need you, need you.
You fill up my space.
Lift me in both hands
Set me free to fly.
Maybe he said that last part. Maybe it was just in his eyes, but Roy rose, drawing DJ up with him.
“What’s the name of the song?” Roy’s voice was husky and low, words meant just for DJ.
“Yuanfen. The force that draws people to one another.”
Roy’s eyes flickered with sparks brighter than the stage pyrotechnics. “You know, a simple phone call saying you wanted to be together would have been sufficient.”
“I tried that, a couple different ways. You’re a little thickheaded.”
Roy’s jaw flexed. “Actually, I’m a lot thickheaded.”
DJ swayed, the mix of laughter, nerves and other strong emotions enough to topple him. Fortunately, Roy still had him.