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“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Douglas eyed the flickering candle dubiously as Martin lowered the bedroom lights.
“Douglas.” Martin crossed the room, sliding next to Douglas on the duvet. “We don’t have to do this.”
Indecision flashed across Douglas’ face, perceptible just for a second. “Yes. I want to.” He turned away from Martin, lying face down on the bed, spread-eagled. “It’s important to you.”
Martin’s breath caught at the spread of vulnerable skin Douglas represented, laid bare for him alone. “It turns me on…”
“… Like nothing else, you said.” Douglas inhaled, the slow intake of air audible in the room before he exhaled in a steady sigh. His fingers twitched.
Martin leant forward and kissed the nape of Douglas’ neck, before shifting to straddle Douglas’ hips. He frowned. Douglas was tense. More so than usual.
“Please.” Douglas’ whisper seemed loud in the silence between them.
Almost on autopilot, Martin leant to pick up the lit candle, watching the sluggish tilt of the already-melted wax in the bowl the wick had hollowed. Like Douglas, Martin mused. So hard, so steady on the outside; so soft and pliant and beautiful within. His Douglas. Who trusted him enough to let him cause him pain, trusted Martin with every tiny bit of himself.
“Martin?”
“Hush.” Martin turned the candle in his fingers, keeping it resolutely upright.
Douglas obeyed, instantly still and silent, but Martin’s eyes were fixed on the clutch of Douglas’ knuckles, knotted in the bed sheet. Martin’s gaze travelled downwards, his own arousal a steady burn at the sight, the feel of the man he loved willingly caged between his legs. He held his breath for a moment, then let out a puff of air that plunged them into darkness.
Douglas jumped so much that he momentarily nearly unseated Martin. Regaining his balance, Martin leant quickly to put the candle down, and rolled off; cuddling close to Douglas and kissing his neck, shoulder, face, caressing his hair. After a moment’s intense worry, Martin realised Douglas was maintaining his silence because of the order he’d been given. “You can speak,” he said hastily.
“What’s…?” Douglas turned a little. “You’ve stopped?”
“I stopped,” Martin confirmed.
Douglas hesitated, but Martin felt the tell-tale tiny relaxation in his posture. “Why?” Douglas asked.
“Because you weren’t enjoying it.”
“I – I was –“ Douglas broke off. “You hadn’t even started.”
Calmness spread through Martin like a soothing balm. “I didn’t need to. I could see it wasn’t your thing.”
“But it’s yours.”
“And I’m your dom. And I look after you, correct?”
Douglas was mulishly silent. Martin gripped his chin, hard, finding it in the dark. “I said, correct?”
He felt Douglas’ sigh on his own bare skin. “Yes. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” A cold shiver at the idea he might have failed rippled down Martin’s spine.
Douglas’ lips brushed Martin’s cheek, his hand sliding to Martin’s hip. “We look after each other,” he murmured.
Warmth. That was all Martin could think. So warm. “Always,” he replied, and meant it.