2 - The Boston Tie Party
Leander Chase-Morgan
Regarding the back section of his closet, Leander Chase-Morgan mused over the selection of play suits.
It, like the collection of toys, furniture, and implements in the basement of their four-million-dollar house outside of Boston, was a more expansive collection than he'd ever anticipated when he'd first dabbled in the lifestyle.
He and Tristan had brought many unexpected things to each other's lives, though. Leander thought he'd adapted far more affably to the role of commanding Tristan than his sweet husband had to their decently affluent lifestyle.
His play suits weren't much different from his normal suits, other than being far less expensive.
His primary concern was to match Tristan's special play suit rather than any worry about keeping things nice.
Classic black was always a strong choice for being in charge, he thought, but paired it with a sage green button-down and matching tie a few shades darker.
The event they were going to only happened a few times a year, and while exclusive, it was legendary, drawing people from vetted kink circles all over New England.
New people, maybe. Perhaps that would even mean people to play with, instead of among.
Before he met Tristan, he'd only dabbled in kink when he was safely far from home and the expectations of his father.
He'd grown up in Weybridge - the family name and old money amidst new billionaires and all the scrutiny it brought.
Even after he'd escaped to London, he'd had to be far more discreet.
A chance to travel frequently for work was the perfect escape; he could be as slutty as he longed to be on the other side of the pond, and eventually find a nice, respectable English boy and settle down.
Then one night, he'd sent dick pics to a number he'd gotten from a guy at a bar. They'd gone, instead, to Tristan.
Tristan, his genius, beautiful love, and now his husband.
Someone who badly needed the freedom of surrender, and Leander was happy to give it.
Tristan's brilliant mind was always overloaded; the emotional and physical release of his devotion was one of the few things that could truly quiet it and lift his burdens.
Being able to give that to him was worth more than any slutty experience he could imagine.
But Tristan was far too observant and intuitive to allow him that sacrifice.
So when they'd gotten married, they'd both easily agreed to explore the kink scene in Boston together, in the hopes of finding a play partner - or ideally, two play partners - that would be willing to give them both the joy of watching their beloved get completely and totally wrecked.
"That color looks amazing on you." Stepping into the closet with him, Tristan ran his hands up the lapels of his suit jacket. "It really brings out your eyes. Once you have the mask on, you'll be nothing but curls and emeralds. Devastatingly beautiful."
"And you'll be devastatingly molestable," Leander replied, smiling and leaning into a kiss as Tristan flushed in pleasure.
Tristan had dressed more plainly in a button-down shirt and slacks, though Leander thought his husband could make a t-shirt look formal, somehow. He drew away from Leander to grab the garment bag with his play suit in it. "I haven't even changed yet."
"You still look sweet enough to eat." Leander drew him into a kiss to prove it.
Tristan had the most lovely rosebud lips with a deep cupid's bow, with boyish features that, paired with his shorter stature, made him look young and delightfully corruptible despite them being matched in age.
Professionally, it was always a point of contention; Tristan had been a precocious youth and was already taking college courses as a high school freshman.
Fortunately, he had no hangups about Leander calling him cute and little in the bedroom.
"Always for you, Sir," Tristan breathed, blue eyes sparkling. Leander resisted the urge to tangle his fingers in Tristan's neatly styled hair, but still kissed him until his husband was melting into him, whimpering breathlessly against his lips.
Between their individual contacts, they'd managed to get introduced to the right people, and the intimate private parties Leander had always preferred.
The bigger ones, like the one they were attending tonight, were frequently masked.
Leander found it deliciously kinky, though he imagined it was primarily to help people relax and let loose without feeling self-conscious.
"How do you want to play tonight, my love? "
"I want to serve you," Tristan replied without hesitation. "Whatever pleases you."
I want to be put in stocks and claimed by every man at the party in turn, Leander thought, but kept the lurid fantasy to himself.
He never wanted to ask Tristan for something he wasn't suited for; his husband's happiness was far more important than his slutty, slutty fantasies.
"Let's play things by ear. See who we meet.
Maybe I'll give my sweet bunny to some other big, strong man to enjoy. "
"Only if there's one for you." Tristan pouted, stroking his cheek. "I don't want to play unless you get playtime, too."
That was, of course, always the hurdle. Finding a single was easy enough, and Leander would have been more than happy to revel in Tristan's ravishment. But Tristan was convinced that Leander far more needed ravishing... and he wasn't wrong.
"Maybe we'll meet a new couple, then," Leander replied, despite becoming more and more certain as time went on that it might not happen. Not among the scene regulars, anyway.
It would have been easy enough to find casual partners at a gay bar, but that wasn't what either of them desired.
Neither of them were into women, which took bisexual couples out of the equation.
The couples they'd met with more of a traditional lifestyle vibe had only been looking to switch, which didn't give either of them something they didn't already have and prefer.
It wasn't that they hadn't both enjoyed some tasty episodes of being trussed up and spanked. There'd even been a pair of friends the year before who Leander had been very hopeful about, before they'd aggravatingly decided they were madly in love and committed to a life of monogamy.
"Maybe," Tristan agreed, stroking his cheek. "I don't suppose I can convince you to find someone without me?"
Leander smiled and shook his head, turning his face to kiss his palm.
"I couldn't enjoy it without the confidence that my sweet love was taken care of.
Don't worry, darling. We're going for us.
Maybe I'll just arrange a nice spanking, and if you really want me to get ravished, we'll call dibs on Zoe's lovely rocking horse again.
" The custom build mounted the rider on a toy of their choice, which they'd discovered was even more fun when Tristan was riding him.
Leander was strongly considering having one made, designed with more room for Tristan.
"We'll play it by ear," Tristan agreed, and kissed him.
Leander hadn't expected much as they'd arrived, donned their masks, and Tristan had changed. He hadn't minded, though. Playing with Tristan would never be a disappointment.
Then, he'd caught sight of the newcomers on stage in Zoe's great room.
Zoe - a formidable executive and contact that he'd also begun cultivating in his professional circles - had always provided the best entertainment at her parties. The woman made an art out of networking in the scene, but she'd outdone herself this time.
The scene entranced Leander immediately.
The tall, auburn-haired man working the ropes was delicious and wonderfully broad-shouldered.
He wore nothing but boots and a black, leather-trimmed kilt slung low about his hips, baring the delectable expanse of his chest. Firm, freckled, with a bare smattering of russet hairs to catch the warm light of the room's lamps, which subtly brightened and brought attention to the suspension rig set up in the center of the room.
There was the barest hint of abs under his creamy skin, and lovely, well-defined lines of muscle disappeared down into the waistband of his kilt.
They already had Leander imagining sinking down on his knees in surrender for the man, worshipping the lines of muscle with his mouth.
He'd dedicate himself to worshipping every part of that beautiful man if given even half a chance.
The man looked around Leander's age, or perhaps a few years older than him. There were hints of a few lines around his full, lush lips that spoke of a life full of laughter. It made him even more appealing. Old enough and experienced enough to be an amazing partner.
The man's partner was just as glorious. The well-built blond man was on display on his knees on the wide, plush ottoman.
He was wearing nothing but the mask, his huge, gorgeously muscled arms completely covered in a network of black and gray tattoos.
His eyes were closed in pleasure as the other man built an intricate network of rope and knots around his body, slowly roping him to the rig above him.
Tristan, cuddling into his side, gave a soft, appreciative hum, clearly also very much enjoying the eye candy.
Leander tightened his arm around his husband's waist, pulling him in closer and nuzzling his hair. "They're lovely, aren't they?"
"They're incredible, Sir," Tristan sighed, arching into him without restraint. "So strong...."