Louis Garneau

players only. takes place the day after Louis confesses about his work and Citadel.

continued from here



"Wow. Right now? Right now, right." Unaware that he's clutching the cage to his chest, Bradley nods, wide-eyed. It's all happening so fast, and he can't quite take it all in. He's nearly hard again, and he knows Louis is, and there's an almost surreal sense of potential in the room. Sexy, a little dangerous, very new and very exotic, he's going to be stripped bare and put in a cage, and he realizes that he can't wait.

Louis can't stop smiling, completely enthralled by Bradley's reactions. "You can bring that with you," he says, nodding at the cage as he dumps everything else back in the box and picks it up. "Lead the way." Nudging Bradley towards the bathroom. "You can sit on the edge of the bath. Put a towel under you."

Going where Louis herds him, Bradley makes his way into the bathroom, getting a little bounce back into his step as he adjusts to all these new things, or at least, to the idea of them. He's excited and nervous all at once, and as he folds a towel and takes a seat, he makes a wry face at the way he's gone soft at the cooler air of the bathroom and the cold tile under his arse. He sets the cage carefully on a ledge far enough away that it won't risk getting wet, and clasps his hands to his own elbows to keep himself from fidgeting.

"This isn't like the stuff the girls get at the shops, is it?" he asks Louis, watching him move around and prepare what he needs. "The stuff that smells like flowers? They're always complaining that it burns." Being in theater, there's very little about beauty rituals that remains a mystery to him, though he hasn't tried them all himself yet.

"Not at all," Louis says, putting on the pair of thin latex gloves Marcel's thoughtfully included. "This isn't good for fingers," he continues, wiggling his, "but it's specially formulated for use on male genitals." He pops the cap on the bottle and lets Bradley have a sniff. "And you can do serious damage with the products available in the stores. But if you like the results and we decide to keep you like this, I'll make an appointment for you at the castle and we'll have you waxed."

"Waxed?" Bradley winces at the very idea. He's had his chest waxed once before, for a role, and OW. "I've only had my chest done, and that hurt like fuck. I can only...no, I can't even imagine what it might feel like in more tender places." He reaches down instinctively, covering his cock and balls and hair with a hand, protectively. But something about this, bare in the washroom, getting ready for Louis to bathe him, groom him, remove all his hair, it's got him already hardening again despite the chill. He sighs and makes a face, taking his hand away, since his cock is poking up anyway.

"At least it smells nice," he admits. "Minty. And I'm glad it doesn't burn." Pain is one thing, burning quite another.

"It doesn't. Trust me," Louis says, crouching in front of Bradley and starting to spread a thick even layer of cream around Bradley's cock, careful to include every last hair. "And if you get waxed regularly, it won't be as bad." He grins. "Of course, there's always electrolysis. The only problem with this is that it doesn't last long. The hair will start growing back and it's not a comfortable feeling."

Louis's gentle fingers, the coolness of the cream and the smooth, silky feeling of it are all luxurious enough that Bradley relaxes, sighing with pleasure. "I've heard it's itchy," he says, watching Louis carefully, shivering as those fingers lift his sac. He's never had someone touch him so clinically yet so possessively, and it makes his mind slow down, start easing into that place Louis calls "subspace." He smiles softly. "It's okay though. Maybe waxing. Electrolysis, that's forever, right? What if I've a role that needs me to be all fuzzy and brawny?"

Louis looks up at him, his fingers stilling for a moment. "I was only teasing you," he says. "I would never have you do something that could not be undone."

Bradley blinks down at him. "Guess the tattoo of your name across my arse is right out, then, yeah?" he teases back, gently. Letting Louis know without words that he trusts him, knows that he'd never put him jeopardy, either physically or in any other part of his life.

That gets a soft laugh and Louis kisses Bradley's knee before going back to his work, making sure every bit of hair is covered. "Okay. That's it," he says finally, rocking to his feet and removing the gloves. "We're supposed to wait five minutes and then test a patch before trying to clean it all off." He tosses the gloves in the nearby bin and sits down on the edge of the tub beside Bradley. "How does it feel?"

"Cold," Bradley answers promptly, peering down at the cream. He can't see any hair disappearing, but the cream is thick, and he can't see much at all. "My skin feels a bit numb, almost like spraying solarcaine on a sunburn, but it doesn't hurt a bit." He rubs just below his solar plexus, where an arrow of dark blond hair trails downwards. "Will it look silly, you think, having hair here and none below?"

"I don't know," Louis says, cocking his head to look. "My concern this time was your comfort in the cage. Would you like me to do your chest as well though? It's not too late." Especially as that hair should come off more easily.

Bradley grins at him. "Let me check my shooting schedule first? I need to find out when my next shirtless scene is. But I suppose...you're the one who'll see it. I don't watch myself naked in mirrors much and I'm not messing about with anyone but you, so as long as *you* don't mind, I suppose it's all good?"

"I think you'll look beautiful regardless," Louis says honestly. "And I know lots of men who do one or the other or both for a lot of different reasons. You're not going to look odd or out of place," he tells him, checking his watch. "What are you going to tell your friends if they notice?"

"A raging case of crabs forced a shave," Bradley tells him with a completely straight face, then waits a beat and cracks up. "No, no, not really! I suppose I could tell them about the new 'Manzilian' craze in New York, and that I wanted to give it a go? Maybe that I dropped a piece of gum in my sleep. I'll think of something, for sure. Not too many see me *that* naked, anyway."

Louis laughs, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. "Well, I'm glad to hear that part. I think I'd like some control over how many people see my boy naked," he says, using the words on purpose, wondering how Bradley will react.

Bradley grins, flushes, and looks down, feeling that unexpected and inexplicable shyness again. "I can tell you for certain that anyone who does, it'll be for work, and nothing else," he says softly. Surprisingly delighted by the possessiveness in Louis's words and tone.

"Good." Louis ruffles Bradley's hair, thinking he might actually burst with happiness. My boy. Words he's never used together before, not for Stuart, not for anyone. Mine. At the age of thirty-four. Good god. Josh and Vince will have a field day, as they say. Not to mention Marie. He glances at his watch again. "Time." He wets a washcloth in the sink and wipes at a small patch on Bradley's groin, smiling at the hair comes away cleanly. "Perfect," he says, continuing to wipe, folding and refolding the washcloth as he goes, Bradley's bare skin gradually revealed.

The skin feels tender now, but still not painful, and Bradley watches with fascination as Louis reveals more and more naked, smooth skin with every pass of the cloth. It's chilly, and he can feel the cool air right on his skin now, with no protective hair. He's had that hair since puberty and it's very odd, seeing his cock without it.

It *does* look bigger, though, he thinks, even larger than his very respectable 7 1/2 inches. And it's still interested in the proceedings, thick and heavy if not quite erect, swaying between his legs as Louis moves him to be sure he wipes every bit of the cream away.

"There we go," Louis says, sitting back on his haunches when he's finished. "I think it looks great." He grins up at Bradley and gives him a quick kiss as he rocks to his feet again. "Grab a shower to make sure we got everything and I'll put the cage on when you're done."

Bradley'd been close to orgasm before the knock on the door, and he can still feel the itchy edge of it at the base of his spine. He's not sure if Louis knows it, or if he doesn't know, or if he'll get to come at some point tonight or not...in fact, his mind is jumbled with all kinds of questions. But for now he just jumps in the shower and soaps himself up, paying particular attention to the fascinatingly smooth skin around his cock, the lack of hair. The way he almost feels like he can sense the ridges of his own fingertips when he touches himself there, the skin is so sensitive.

Once he's clean, he's also very close to completely hard again, and he rinses off quickly and steps out of the shower, not lingering, this time. There, on the counter, are a condom and a small bottle of lube. Bradley laughs a little, shaking his head.

"I'm clean!" he calls to Louis, toweling his hair, glad that it dries so quickly, straight and fine as it is. Louis is right there by the doorway, he sees. And naked. He gets a shiver of desire, just seeing him like that. "And I shouldn't have yelled," he finishes, smiling. Touching his own stiff cock gently with his hand, he glances questioningly at Louis. "I...I don't know how this works," he confesses.

"Well, given the state you're in," Louis says, stepping back into the bathroom, "I think we need you thinking the unsexiest thoughts you can come up with, because I'm not going to fuck you until you're wearing that cage, and for that we need you soft."

"I could come?" Bradley offers hopefully, smiling his brightest, most appealing smile at Louis. "That's a brilliant way to go soft. The best way, really. And then there'd be no risk of blue balls. Just think of the benefits to my health!"

"No, not unless you're going to wear the cage for the rest of the week," Louis says, leaning back against the door and watching Bradley. Enjoying the negotiations. "If you're only going to be in it until tomorrow night, you've already had your orgasm."

Louis is smiling, but there's a layer of steel under his words that tells Bradley he's not joking. He really does mean to put Bradley into the cage, though the length of time is clearly fluid. His eyes widen a bit, and he nods. "I, um. Tomorrow night? That sounds good, I think, for a first time." He has no idea what this will feel like, after all, and the thought of the unknown for an entire week is a bit terrifying.

That same note of steel in Louis's voice, the knowledge that he's taking control, is making it awfully hard to make himself soft. He looks away from Louis's gorgeous body and closes his eyes, thinking of work. Thinking of changing the tyre on his rental that keeps going flat. Takes a few deep breaths and shakes his hands out, imagining he's on set, imagining he's going to have to snog someone awful. Angel, perhaps, it's like snogging his sister, he knows, since they've had to do it more than once already. That does it, and his cock is flagging, softening, if slowly, and he sighs in relief.

"Good job," Louis says softly, moving closer. "Now I want you to keep thinking those thoughts." He picks up the ring and fits it over Bradley's cock, eyeballing the cage and deciding it needs two spacers which he slides over Bradley's cock as well before trying the cage on him for size. Close but it might need one more spacer. "How does that feel?"

"Tight," Bradley grits through his teeth, focusing with all his might on the unsexiest things he can imagine; the rings fit around him, and Louis's fingers are on him, and then his cock is encased in cool, smooth, hard plastic. It's the strangest sensation he can imagine, especially as it immediately tries to swell again. "Not too tight, just snug. Good. Strange. I don't know."

Louis nods. "Unsexy thoughts," he reminds him, removing the cage and fitting in one more spacer before he locks the cage into place. "You can open your eyes. This," holding up one small jar, "is petroleum jelly. If you start chafing, you can rub a little of this around the edge of the ring, and whenever you take a shower, it's a good idea to sprinkle some talc," he holds up another small container, "the plain baby kind, not anything perfumed, over the whole area."

Taking a deep breath and relaxing as he realizes that the cage is on, Bradley opens his eyes.

His cock is held neatly, firmly, inside the clear plastic cage. It has a few openings here and there, but he can't do more than touch himself with a fingertip as he explores it, wonderingly, with both fingers and eyes.

Strangest of all is the feeling. It's not heavy, precisely, but it's definitely there, and the weight is a little strange as he shifts from foot to foot. And his cock, held so snugly, cannot possibly get hard, he realizes with a bit of alarm. He's turned on now, can still feel that itch of desire, but he's held tightly down, and every pulse of blood to his cock is blocked by the cage.

He turns wide, startled eyes to Louis. "Feels so odd," he nearly whimpers, his hand still touching plastic.

Louis smiles, knowing he'll have to repeat himself later, that the boy hasn't taken in a word he's said. "Yes, I know. It does at first, but you'll get used to it. It may take a while though." More than a weekend. He brushes his fingers across the plastic, placing his hand over Bradley's and kissing him, softly. "It looks wonderful. You look wonderful."

Louis's hand, his kiss, have Bradley straining to get hard, and failing. The pressure is deep and strange, the way it's forcing his cock to stay soft, despite how he should be ragingly erect by now. He whines into the kiss, pressing close, disoriented by the feelings. Wildly, irrationally aroused by the fact that Louis has taken control of his cock, that he owns it now, that Bradley can't just get hard whenever he likes, or his cock gets the notion. Everything inside him aches with it. Without his hard-on he can focus on the other parts, on Louis's hands, on his own hands as they stroke down Louis's sides. It's brilliant, and strange, and wonderful.

Deepening the kiss, Louis grinds lightly against Bradley. Their tongues curl and tease and tangle with each other and he groans, harder than ever, aching, the feel of plastic against his cock a strangely potent aphrodisiac. And then he's pulling back, already breathing hard, nodding at the sink behind Bradley. "Turn around. Brace yourself," he orders. "I want your eyes open and on the mirror the whole time."

Nearly blind with the overload of stimuli, Bradley does as he's told, turning, leaning over the sink, spreading his legs and tilting up his hips. "Yes, sir," he whispers, just loud enough for Louis to hear, about as loudly as he can speak, just now. If just kissing and petting felt so good, he can only dream of what fucking might feel like. He can't wait to find out. He stares at his own reflection, but he's nearly blind; so focused on Louis, and on the sensations rioting through his body, that he can barely see.

Louis tears open the condom and rolls it on over his cock, pinching the air from the tip with his fingers. He slicks those same fingers with lube, his eyes on the mirror, locked on Bradley's face as he slowly pushes two into him, nice and easy, working them in and out, the heat and the tightness and the knowledge that he has complete control over the boy making his cock throb.

Bradley had thought he'd been turned on before. He thought he'd been trying to get hard, before. That had been nothing, he now realizes, as Louis's fingers push so surely and firmly into him, working him open, massaging his inner muscles into pleasure-soaked relaxation, openness, acceptance. His eyes glaze a little more, in the mirror, and he blinks rapidly as his mouth drops open without a sound.

He can see his own chest rise and fall as he starts gulping for air. His cock is straining, now, pushing hard and insistently against its smooth prison, but it's not hard or driving him towards his own orgasm. All the nerves in his ass seem to be much more sensitive, instead, and he squirms and moans, squeezing Louis's fingers with his inner muscles, looking for more.

"Patience," Louis murmurs, smiling, curling those fingers to rub over Bradley's prostate before adding his thumb and pushing them apart, stretching the muscle open and gaping his hole.

Two fingers and a thumb are a lot for Bradley, still, who hasn't been with someone in so long before Louis and who's only had smaller things inside him since they started to play. He struggles to keep his breathing even, knowing he needs to stay relaxed, but unable to stop his body clamping down against this intrusion. The fingers against his prostate get a yelp of surprised pleasure out of him; it's almost shocking how much more intense this feeling is, now that he's not distracted by his cock.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" Louis says, not really expecting an answer, his fingers pushing deeper, spreading wider, slowly forcing Bradley's body to open for him.

"Yessss," Bradley hisses out through his teeth. He's not blinded by the need to come, and it keeps him more alert, more aware, and more *here* than he might otherwise be, lost in his own pleasure. "Feels so good." He twists his hips against the burning stretch, breath hitching as his cock jerks in the cage, fighting its constriction.

Louis keeps working Bradley open, scissoring his fingers and stretching the muscle, rubbing over his prostate again and again, the noises Bradley's making going straight to his cock until he can't hold off any longer, swipes a last bit of lube over the condom and lines up, slowly pushing in, his hands on Bradley's hips, keeping him still for it.

Having Louis pinning him down, holding him still, is agony. Bradley can feel every inch of Louis's cock as it slides into his ass, smooth with lube, slick and hot and brutally hard. He cries out as it pushes deep inside him, every nerve ending alive and sparking, both with the knowledge that Louis is taking him like this and that his own pleasure is irrelevant. He's being used. His ass is for Louis to fuck, and his own pleasure won't come now, will only come when Louis permits it, and the reality of that finally hits home and slams him down into subspace so hard that he's almost dizzy with it. He rests his cheek on the cool tile of the counter, panting, squirming at the strange, dull pleasure in his cock, the aching fiery good feelings from his hole, the way they combine and mix and send him flying.

Louis stills, cock halfway out, throbbing inside Bradley's hole. "Boy. I said eyes on the mirror," he says softly, only a hint of a growl in his tone.

Bradley's body jumps in surprise at Louis's tone and he jerks his head back up, blinking at his reflection in the mirror. He looks dazed; his pupils are blown wide and his eyes are nearly black with arousal, his hair is a tangle over his forehead and he's flushed, sweating a little, and he'd forgotten about Louis's command completely. He licks his lips, wetting them before he can speak. "Sorry, sir," he murmurs. Sincere, wincing a little with embarrassment that he's forgotten his one order.

The quick correction and apology are exactly what Louis from Bradley and he nods, smiling at him, letting him know it's okay, that there's room for mistakes and for fixing them. "You feel so good," he murmurs, sinking in right to the root again, his fingers prying open Bradley's cheeks, his eyes flickering downward to the place where their bodies meet, the slightly reddened skin stretching around his cock. "So hot and tight."

The words are music to Bradley's ears and he relaxes again, keeping his eyes on the mirror though he's mostly watching Louis's face. Fascinated by his expressions, the pleasure that's so clear on his features as he plunges his cock into Bradley's body, holding him open, digging in deep. He can still feel every centimetre, rubbing him hard from the inside, and he whimpers again, high in his throat, as his own cock tries desperately to harden yet again.

It goes nowhere, of course, and he sighs out, relieved, sinking into submission and relaxation, opening himself totally for Louis's pleasure.

Slowly Louis increases his pace, thrusting in harder, deeper, pulling all the way out before driving back in, eyes locked on the mirror, the image imprinted on his mind. He leans forward, canting his hips, one hand sliding into Bradley's hair, tugging his head back, using the hold for leverage as he pushes in again and again. Taking his time.

Bradley's getting the idea that Louis likes to watch...and he knows how to put on a show. Licking his lips, arching his neck up into the pull of the hand in his hair, he parts his lips again, moaning softly, eyes gone heavy and half-lidded as he meets Louis's gaze in their reflections. Showing off. Showing Louis how this feels to him, how amazing it is, how he is loving every moment and every thrust and every touch he's being given.

Louis groans, the sound low and ragged, welling up from his chest, his cock throbbing violently inside the boy. He tugs even harder, running his other hand over Bradley's ass, nails scraping lightly at the skin, and then he slaps him, hard, on one cheek, watching as the skin goes white and then red, Bradley's hole clenching with the shock.

The slap is another layer of heat, sensation, bearing down on his nerves, one more reason for his skin to flame and for him to cry out. He does, gaze never wavering from Louis in the mirror, even as helpless tears well in his eyes; the sting of the pulling on his hair, the burn deep inside where Louis's cock is pounding him into softness, the sharp slap, they all combine together to completely overwhelm him.

"That's it," Louis breathes, his cock jerking sharply, his hand delivering another slap to the other cheek. "Cry for me." His hand landing again and again, in time to his thrusts, pleasure flushing quickly through his frame, pushing him closer and closer.

Bradley doesn't want to cry, he *doesn't* and he's fighting it and battling it with every bit of strength he has left, despite Louis's words. But he can't keep the tears in, not when he's strung out like this between Louis's hand and his cock, drawn tight, arched up, the slaps sending shocks through his whole body that jerk him forward, only to be pulled back onto the punishing thrusts of Louis's cock. The tears well up and then they're spilling over and he bites his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

Mon dieu. That. That's what he wants. To see those tears on Bradley's cheeks, glistening under the lights overhead, to know that the boy fought and fought hard and still surrendered, every slap to his cheeks drawing more. He drives in still harder, riding Bradley, reaming him open, knowing he's going to be feeling this later, feeling it for days. Slams into him again and again until his breath suddenly catches, hitches, his cock pulsing hotly, then spills into the boy's body, his battered hole, wishing he was filling him, no barrier between them, marking him, claiming him with his come.

Watching Louis's face when he comes is like a special gift and Bradley holds his breath, bracing against the brutal last few slams of his body, then feeling him freeze, shudder, spill into him. Every pulse rippling through him and the naked pleasure on his face so gorgeous that Bradley feels as satisfied as if he'd come himself. He blinks away the tears, breathing again, great gasps for air now that everything has gone still for a moment. He feels dizzy and stupid with arousal, knows he is nearly out of strength, but manages to hold himself up so that he's still keeping his eyes open, still on the mirror.

Louis stays right where he is, his cock still throbbing, still held tight by Bradley's body, the two of them fitting so perfectly. He curses softly under his breath, words of pleasure, amused disbelief, aftershocks of pleasure rippling through him. "Good boy," he says, his hands back on Bradley's hips, thumbs caressing his reddened skin, giving them both a moment to settle. But finally he eases out, one hand keeping Bradley where he is while he strips off the condom and tosses it into the bin, and then he's pulling Bradley up and into his arms, drawing him close.

Bradley can't believe how shaky he feels. Small, and fragile, and strangely delicate, and he's not felt like this ever before, not him, not the jock and the lad's lad that he's always been. He practically tries to crawl inside Louis's skin as soon as he gets the chance, burrowing close to him, face pressed against his chest and arms tucked in tight. His cock, still soft in its prison, nudges against Louis's thigh, but gets no friction or sensation, just the bump of contact. His prostate is throbbing with his pulse, stimulated past bearing it, and he rocks his hips back and forth mindlessly, trying to ease the ache.

"Let's get you back into bed," Louis says after another moment, kissing the top of Bradley's head. He keeps his arm tight around Bradley's waist, keeping him close, as they walk back into the other room and he gets them both tucked back in under the covers. "Have some water," he says, opening the half-bottle that's still on the nightstand and offering it to Bradley.

"I've never had to drink so much water, since my last game of footie," Bradley says, only a little incoherently, before sipping obediently at the water. He's also never felt so tired, or so exhilarated, or so completely wrung out before, so he's grateful that Louis always seems to think ahead and have the water right there for him. Sighing, he snuggles down into the bedcovers, eyes at half-mast, but still squirmy with the heat of being fucked and the frustrated arousal that has nowhere to go. He moves a little, then again, trying to find a position that won't put pressure on his cock or tease the sore, raw skin of his ass. Having Louis so close, smelling of sex and come, isn't helping; Bradley's deep breathing is just surrounding him with the musk of it. He moans quietly, twisting a little again, getting a leg up over one of Louis's, unable to stop his restlessness.

"It's hard to get used to at first," Louis says softly, brushing the blond fringe out of Bradley's eyes and kissing his temple. "Feels like you might go mad, but it will ease," he promises, not quite ready to tell Bradley yet that he spent his first two years at work as one of those in-house subs and can speak from personal experience.

"It's like an itch I can't scratch," Bradley says, a little fretfully, as he rolls back onto his back. "I loved it though, during. It was brilliant, so good, it was...I can't even say. But really, really good." He's close enough that when he rolls again, he ends up sprawled half-over Louis, comfortably (or as comfortably as he *can* be just now) tucked up along his side. Touching like this seems to settle him a little.

He doesn't even realize it, but he has no training or context for this, no formal understanding of a master and boy relationship, to settle himself with as a framework of expectations; he knows that it's new and strange and utterly unknown, and that's all. He does sense that Louis is taking special care with him, though, and he can sense the way Louis has taken control of him, the way he is so calm and sure; that inspires both trust and respect, as well as the desire he's already so familiar with.

All this prompts him to lean up, kiss Louis's mouth gently. Not a provocative or teasing kiss, just lips together, enjoying their closeness, sharing breath because he wants to.

Louis kisses back, his mouth soft, matching Bradley's. "I'm glad you liked it," he says. "I certainly enjoyed myself." Eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "You seemed to come up quicker with it on," he observes. "But that could have to do with the intensity of the scene as well." Still learning Bradley, both as his lover and his submissive.

"I dunno," Bradley answers, thinking it over as he puts his head back down on Louis's shoulder. "It was...different. Maybe it's just that I've not come and don't want to have a nap, after, because of that? Dunno. It's strange though, it was like floating when it was happening and it still is, rather." It's just not the sleepy sort of headspace. This is more alert, more awake. No less needy, but he's having the strangest urge to serve Louis in some way, make him tea or sit at his feet, anything to fulfill his smallest wish. It's bizarre and he squashes the thought, not knowing where it came from. "Just, different. Better because I could feel everything and not worry about coming my brains out? I think so, yeah." He loves it, even though he's hating it just now, that unscratchable itch burning at him.

Louis laughs. "Hopefully, you'll keep feeling that way." He is tired though, two orgasms and no naps later. "Would you mind if I slept for a while? We can keep talking if you want, if you have questions, but I think I need a nap before I'll be able to do anything else."

Bradley giggles a little. "Usually I'm falling asleep while you're still moving about," he teases gently. "Course it's fine, and I'll probably nod off for a bit myself." Even just the suggestion is triggering a need to yawn and stretch, though he does so gingerly, trying to keep anything from twanging at his oversensitive nerves. "I'll think of more questions in my sleep," he informs Louis sleepily, tucking in closer to him.

///

When Louis wakes, it's early afternoon and Bradley is still lying on top of him, leg wrapped around his hip, his breath warm against Louis's neck. He shivers lightly, smiling, body already, god, instantly responding to the boy's closeness. "Hey, sleepyhead," he whispers, glancing at the clock. "Time to wake up." Lightly tickling Bradley's ribs.

For all his protests of not being too tired, Bradley had slept hard and long. When he feels Louis stir, he starts to wake, slowly; the fingers running up his ribcage makes him flinch violently away, with a yelp and a flail of his arm, landing on his back and blinking at the ceiling in shock.

"Not fair," he wheezes, trying to get himself oriented and his heart to stop pounding from the sudden jolt of adrenaline.

"I'm sorry," Louis says but he's laughing. "I thought I was being gentle. I didn't realize you were that ticklish." He rolls over and kisses Bradley's shoulder. "Forgive me?"

'Mmmrph," Bradley grumbles, but he relaxes, breathing deeply, and gets an arm up and around Louis's own shoulder, pulling him down clumsily until he can kiss his neck. He's just never all that coordinated when he's just woken up, and he stretches hugely, feeling much, much better after his nap. His body has relaxed and calmed itself and the cage is just a strange weight between his legs, not the torturous constriction it had been a few hours before.

"Good idea, that nap," he tells Louis with a smile. "Even with the surprise ending."

"Yes," Louis nods, grinning at Bradley. "I feel much better." He glances at the clock again, his stomach taking the cue to grumble right then. "It's stopped raining. We should get dressed and go and have some lunch, pick up some food from the market for dinner."

Bradley's stomach is growling too, picking up and echoing Louis's start, and he laughs a little. "Yeah, definitely. I'm more than a bit peckish. *And* it's a gorgeous sunny day out, we should get at least a bit of walking in before spending an entire day lazing about in this sinfully marvelous bed."

"Good." Louis pushes up onto all fours and dips down to kiss Bradley one more time before he slides off the bed. "Ten minutes, top of the stairs," he says with a grin, heading for the washroom.

Rolling his eyes at Louis while smiling fondly at the same time, Bradley also slips out from under the covers, stretches again, and moves around, gathering his clothes. Finally finding his left sock, he has his thin old jeans in his hand when he looks down, catching the glint of light off plastic.

"Louis?" he calls, setting the jeans aside for the moment. "Can you show me how to get this thing off? I can't quite puzzle it out from this angle."

Louis yawns and stretches, coming out from the bathroom, his jeans and t-shirt picked up from the back of the couch. "I can show you tomorrow night," he says, stepping into his jeans. "When we take it off for the week."

"But I thought you said we were going out?" Bradley gestures at his worn-thin old jeans. "It'll show through those for sure, but I can put it back on the minute we get back through the door."

"No, we agreed that you'd wear it for the weekend," Louis says firmly, pulling his t-shirt over his head, "and it won't show under those. It shouldn't show under any street clothes."

Bradley starts feeling a little spike of panic. His heart thuds harder against his ribs, and his jaw sets mulishly. The newness of this all, the rapidfire swings of events, from shocking news to shockingly good but scary sex, the roles, the rules, the cage, it all hits him at once. Wearing this cage out, he just *knows* people will see it, that they'll take one look at him and know.

"It's going to be a crowd," he protests, not even realizing that a little thread of that panic is working its way into his voice. "I'll, I'll bump into someone and they'll know. Someone will see it. They'll know, they *will.*"

"No, they won't," Louis says again, gently but firmly, determined to help Bradley work through his fears. "Trust me. Put your clothes on and let me see."

It's one thing here, in their little cocoon of privacy, this flat where they can do anything and no one will know, or care. It's different going out into the light of day with something so blatantly...kinky, but not just that. Different. New. Strange, like this, on his body, worn even under clothes. In Bradley's stressed mind, it has become some kind of symbol for this whole relationship, for everything that's changed so drastically in so short a time. He's hairless like a child and his cock is in a cage. But that's just a tiny part of it.

He actually takes a step back, face pale. "Maybe the plastic will pinch or rub or get caught on something. What if I have to have a piss? What if something spills? It's, it's not even mine anymore, it's yours now, you've put it in a cage, that's not, it's not something people just do every day. Oh god."

"Hold on. You're getting ahead of yourself," Louis says, closing the distance between them. He sits down at the kitchen table and pulls Bradley into his lap, wrapping his arms around him. "If it pinches or rubs, we'll find a washroom and I'll take it off for you. If you have to piss, I'll come with you and we'll make sure no one else is watching, or we'll come back here. It's not like we're going very far away. And lastly, if you want, you can wear one of my sweaters or jackets and that way your crotch will be covered."

Stiff at first, Bradley slowly relaxes at Louis's warm, steadying touch, his strength, and his reasonable and calm reaction to Bradley's unexpected panic. Some stubborn, contrary part of him wants to kick and scream and fight it, but he crushes that down ruthlessly. Louis is right. He's being silly.

"Right," he takes a careful, measured breath. He leans into Louis just a little. "Right, we could do that. That makes sense." Embarrassed by his own outburst, he tries to pull away from Louis's hold, go back to getting himself dressed.

"Wait a minute." Louis tugs him back, kissing his shoulder. "You have to trust me to take care of you. Not only in here but out there as well. I would never risk hurting your career or humiliating you in public."

"I know," Bradley says, looking down, away, anywhere but directly at Louis. "I *do* know that, I let you take off my hair, I really do know. It's just. I don't know. I forgot for a minute." Or was overwhelmed by the rush of everything and the prospect of going out with people, other people around. He finally meets Louis's eyes, hopes he can tell he means it. "I know you'll take care of me. Out there, too."

"Good." Louis hugs Bradley, kissing his shoulder again, and then lets him go. "Get dressed, and we'll get something to eat. I'm starving and if we don't have lunch first, I'll buy the whole market for dinner."

"Low blood sugar," Bradley offers as an excuse for his own random mood swings. "Gets me every time. Without my five meals a day I'm a complete prat." He yanks on his jeans, defiantly ignoring the cock cage altogether, and pulls his t-shirt over his head. With his wallet and his phone in his pocket he's ready to go. He believes in traveling light.

Following Bradley's lead on this, for now, Louis doesn't mention the cock cage again. He shoves his keys and wallet in his back pocket, clips his cellphone to a belt loop, and casually drapes a jacket over his arm, just in case. "What are you in the mood for?" he asks, thinking of all the things they need to talk about, all the things that any boy he was training would come to him already knowing, and all the ways in which Bradley's different and some of those things simply don't apply. It's enough to make his head spin but looking at Bradley at they lock up and head out through the market, he knows it's worth it.

"Something with meat in," Bradley says decisively. He's desperate for protein, wonders if it's a side effect of all that strenuous sex. "I'm completely famished, now we're out here." The market smells amazing, and he's focusing on that, on the way the sun is shining after the morning's rain, and not thinking even the tiniest bit about the cage or the fact that Louis is walking next to him, not touching him, but still controlling a very important part of his body.

Among the huge group of tents and stands assembled along the streets of the town, he spots one that looks like it's selling meat pies, along with fresh produce and other farm-stand wares. He tugs on Louis's arm, his nose practically twitching at the rich, savoury smells. "Over there?" he asks, hopefully.

"Mais oui," Louis says, pleased that Bradley seems to be overcoming his earlier worries. They head for the stall. "Mm. Which would you like?" They all look - and smell - delicious, topped with perfectly browned flaky pastry. "They have beef, veal, pork, salmon and duck pate," he says, translating the signs in front of each row of pies for him.

"This is why I couldn't live in France," Bradley informs Louis, teasing, shaking his head. "I'd be as big as a house in no time at all. I want one of each!" He inspects the pies carefully, though, and finally chooses a beef and a pork pie, both of which smell mouth-wateringly delicious.

He's self-consciously making sure the front of his body comes nowhere near anyone in the crowd. Fortunately, there aren't too many people about, but he doesn't press through them the way he normally would. Instead, he makes sure that Louis is in front of him most of the time. Even though he knows it's his imagination, he can't stop feeling that the cage will be instantly known if anyone bumps him, or touches it in any way. He tries to convince himself that it's no different than the cup he wears for football, but even that backfires; cups are bloody obvious, and definitely noticeable, and that just makes him more protective.

^Two pork, two beef and two ciders, please,^ Louis tells the woman running the stall. She slides the pies into a box and sets it on the counter, then pours them two ciders. Louis hands the box with the pies to Bradley, pays for their lunch, picks up the ciders and grabs some napkins and plastic forks from the end of the counter before they head for a table in front of one of the restaurants. On market day, the tables are a free-for-all.

He notices Bradley steps in behind him, obviously self-conscious, the way his cheeks are flushed and his head keeps dipping down. It's to be expected though, and likely nothing Louis says will make any difference until he gets used to the way the cage feels and the fact that people can't see it. "Have you tried the foie gras here?" he asks as they sit down.

"Not yet, it's not one of my favorites," Bradley confesses, sliding in to his seat gingerly, making sure nothing catches or pulls. He's just not used to it yet, he assures himself, and at least sitting down he can relax and stop worrying. "I'm really more a meat-and-potatoes sort of chap, me, though living in France has definitely broadened my food horizons." His stomach grumbles at him again and he digs into the meat pie, ravenous, closing his eyes with pleasure at the first mouthful. "Food just doesn't taste like this at home," he informs Louis. "At least, not that I can remember. This is bloody *delicious*."

"The English do fish and chips well," Louis says, prepared to give them something. He digs into his own pie, groaning softly at just how good it is. "But yes, I always miss this when I spend any amount of time on the road." He smiles, watching Bradley, the look on his face making his jeans a little tighter. "I could make a beef bourguignon for dinner tonight, if you haven't had your fill of meat after this."

"I will never have my fill of meat," Bradley tells him, appalled at the very idea, eating through his first pie quickly and appreciatively. "And beef sounds lovely for supper. I can make roasts and decent pasta, and even a passable curry, but nothing with a fancy sauce, really. That'll be a treat. It had better be a late supper though, with all this food." He tests the cider with a sip, and then grins at the sweetness and the slight alcoholic bite. "*Real* cider," he says, delighted.

Louis nods. "Made locally," he says. "Like everything else. It truly is a wonderful area to live in." He takes another bite of pie and washes it down with the homemade cider. "Which reminds me, when does your show finish shooting? Do you go home to England at that point?" It's not something they've managed to discuss yet. Before he went to New York seemed too early, and since he's been back, they've been otherwise occupied.

"We've a month and a half left of shooting, and then we go on break," Bradley tells him, "but we've been picked up for another season. So, we're not sure quite yet what the schedule will be, they're crap at keeping anything like a regular shooting schedule at the BBC, but we'll definitely be back. And before too long, most likely. I'll probably go back to London for a while, knock about for a bit and take a break. Not sure yet, really." He smiles at Louis. "My flatmate in London doesn't see much of me. I think he likes it that way."

"Is he an actor as well?"

"Nah, a cameraman. He works for a news programme in the city." Bradley tips one shoulder in a shrug. "He gets the flat to himself most of the time, I have a place to call home when I'm not on a shoot, and it all works out fairly well. He's an all right sort. Don't know him all that well, but he's tidy and he pays the bills on time."

"Which is what's important," Louis acknowledges. A month and a half doesn't seem long, but he visits London quite often. Wouldn't find it difficult to find more reasons for doing so. "What about your friends? Colin? Angel? Do you see them during your break?"

"Oh yeah," Bradley enthuses. "Me and Colin, we went on sort of a road trip on the last break. Brought a camera along and just tramped about all over England and Wales and Ireland, a bit, visiting Colin's family. They're grand. And Angel lives just down the street, with her boyfriend, we spend a lot of time together, doing appearances, that kind of thing. She's aces. I dunno what we'll get up to this break, though, I think Colin's doing some play on the West End, lucky sod. And for me, well..." he pauses, glances at Louis, suddenly uncertain. "I thought I might come back for a visit now and then? If it's all right with you, I mean, of course."

"I was hoping you would," Louis responds truthfully. "I was also thinking that we have several properties in London, so I will have lots of excuses to visit you too." He smiles, letting his fingers brush across the back of Bradley's hand.

Warming at the touch, Bradley's smile widens as he meets Louis's eyes. "And it's only a couple hours away, if you take the train, or drive, or even fly," he points out. "Not so far that one of couldn't come for a weekend without it being much of a bother at all."

"Exactly." Louis grins back, incredibly pleased they seem to be on the same page. He finishes his first pie and starts in on the second, taking this one a little more slowly not that his hunger's not so fierce. "So, now that we're out in public and we have to keep our hands off each other even though no one's paying us any attention, is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Bradley takes a long moment, eating, to try to gather his thoughts. Then he gestures with his free hand, frustrated that he can't seem to find the words. "So much I want to ask, but I don't even know *how* to ask some of it. When I should say "sir" and when not to, for one, though obviously not when we're out like this. How this sort of relationship even works when we're not together. What the rules are. What happens when I'm out at a pub and some fit bloke tries to pull me?" He stops for a breath. "It's so easy when we're in your flat," he finishes quietly. "It all just works. It's when we leave that suddenly I feel like everything's upside-down and I haven't a map."

"Well, we could draw up a contract, something that would spell all those things out, that you could look at whenever you weren't sure," Louis says, although he wonders if it's not too soon, if it might not be one more overwhelming thing on top of all the others. "Have you read about contracts?"

Bradley brightens a little at the thought. Scrambling as he is for context, a structure for all these new experiences, something concrete like a contract sounds like a blessing. "I have, a little bit here and there. It's rather like a list, right? Of rules and, I don't know, guidelines. Responsibilities, and that. That might be just exactly right. I'm feeling a bit lost," he confesses, now just toying restlessly with what remains of his food. "It's not like I can pop round to my mate's house and ask, either, you know? It's not really something that's out there in the general knowledge."

"That's true, and what is out there is a lot of misinformation," Louis says, taking another sip of cider. Delicious. "We should also probably talk about you becoming a member where I work at some point. We have courses and a vast library, and there's information on our website which you can trust. And then of course there is the journaling system, and you can ask other members when you're not sure of something. It's better than trying to ask your mate," he grins.

With a deep breath that feels a lot like relief--Louis seems to understand, he's encouraging, he gets that Bradley doesn't understand all this just yet--Bradley nods. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds amazing. The book was great, for things like the kneeling, and the different kinds of play, and that. It was pretty clear on what you should do if you find yourself in a kinky club, or how to tie up your lover the first time, and how to play safe, with safewords and all. But this feels, it's more than that, isn't it? More than just two blokes having it off with a bit of kink thrown in."

The book *had* touched on Master/Slave relationships, collared slaves, but this doesn't feel like that, either. Different, somehow. Bradley's pretty sure he's not cut out for slavery, anyway, though he's yet to form an opinion on collars. "I just. I would like to visit the library. Maybe see how other couples do it, how they work it out. It's all so bloody *new,* is all."

"I know it is, and although it might seem like we're forging ahead, I'm not in any rush. We can slow down, we can take things easier, you can ask me to stop and explain anything you want when we're not in scene, and if we're in scene, you can use your safeword if you need me to stop, and you can say yellow if you need me to slow down - like a stop light."

"I like that," Bradley says. "Slow word, instead of stop word. The thing is, when we're in scene, everything seems so easy. It's just, it rolls, we fit, it all feels absolutely freaking sublime, you know? It's after. Or before. Or like this, right now." He ducks his head. "I don't know how to mix it, is all. The boyfriend bit, that I can do, that's familiar. There's this whole extra part where I don't even know the words, though."

"Okay, well, when you're talking to someone like Colin or Angel or someone completely outside the lifestyle, which is what we tend to call it, I'm your boyfriend." Louis pauses, making sure no one's listening but they're all wrapped up in their own conversations and his voice is kept low. "When we're scening together, or you're talking to someone at the club or who knows about what we do, I'm your sir, although I might also be called your dominant, and you're my boy, or my submissive."

More relief, now, as Louis defines things for him. Bradley leans towards Louis, actually holding his hand, now, listening avidly. "And you can be both at the same time," he nods, "just describing it different ways to different people. Yeah. Does the whole..." he gestures at his lap, meaningfully. "Does this make even having lunch a scene? I mean, if we're alone. Does wearing this, like this, for you, what does this make things outside the bedroom? I can't touch myself, not even alone. It's sort of making it feel like that, a little, right now."

"Not really a scene, no, because a scene tends to have a beginning and an end. It's more that you're interested in giving up control to me when we're outside a specific scene and I'm interested in taking it. It's all part and parcel of a D/s relationship, although different couples negotiate different terms, and some prefer to just agree on those terms while others draw up contracts."

"Oh." Still a bit vague for Bradley, who likes things very black and white and clear, but much better than the muddle he'd been in before about all this. "Right, okay, so this is just a bit of it that...leaks over into regular life. And other things, those might, too? Or might not, but we can figure that out as we go, right? Is a contract something terribly formal and serious? It sounded rather nice how you'd described it before."

Louis laughs. "I'll try not to make it too formal and serious, but yes, some are. Especially when you get into Master and slave contracts."

Bradley blanches a little at that, shaking his head. "I am *definitely* not ready for that sort of contract," he says, completely sure. "Not even close. Not remotely. Just, no."

"Neither am I," Louis says, setting his fork down. "And quite honestly, I'm not sure I ever will be. I like the boyfriend component of our relationship," he adds with a smile.

"Excellent," Bradley smiles back, nodding again, feeling much comforted by the whole conversation, by the prospect of a contract, by everything. "I like that part too. I'm sure the people who live at your club, whose lives are all this, all the time, that's quite all right for them and makes them happy. But I need things like this; having lunch at the market, playing football, bringing you to the set someday to see the wild costumes, all those things." He squeezes Louis's fingers. "Of course, I'm just now realizing that I need all those things we do in your flat, too." The weight of the cage between his legs is a constant, steady reminder of what their private interactions are like, and he feels his cock try to get hard, again, just remembering. Now that one hunger's been satisfied, the other is rising, and he's reminded rather sharply that he hadn't been permitted to come, earlier. He shifts, wincing, as his erection is blocked by cool, smooth plastic.

Louis smiles, catching that shift, that tell-tale wince. "We should get our things for dinner," he says, draining the last of his cider. "And then I'm sure I could come up with something else for us to try." Eyes crinkling at their corners.

Bradley groans out loud at that. Knowing he's going to be taken right to the edge of insanity again. Craving it anyway. "I like it, how it feels, I know I told you before, but I meant to ask why," he says softly. "I mean. I'm not coming. I'm not even allowed, there's no chance, but I love it. Even more than without. It felt so good, like it was right, somehow, even though it nearly made me run mad." He laughs a little. "I know you said I'll adjust, but I can't imagine it."

"Not completely," Louis says, giving Bradley's hand a last squeeze before letting go, "but it won't feel like it's driving you mad all the time. Only when I'm tormenting you or you're thinking about sex..." He grins. "As for the why - it's because it makes everything that much more intense. When you remove the ability to get hard, to come, it becomes all about the actual act, about being touched, fucked, not just the act as a means of getting to come."

"I think about sex *all the time*," Bradley groans, but he's smiling at the same time, Louis's explanation touching a chord inside him. "And it's about you, instead of me, when it's like that. I love that. Being that, for you, so it's about you feeling good and I'm just a..." he struggles, again, to find the words. "Something that makes you feel good, come, like that. It's fantastic, that feeling. Giving that up, I mean, because it's for *you,* not just for no reason."

"See? And that's what makes you a good submissive, my good boy," Louis says as they stand, collecting the garbage from their table. "Your first desire is please me, to serve my needs." He smiles at Bradley, wishing he could kiss him right here.

The 'my good boy,' said so casually and with that smile and that look, bring a bright flush of pleasure to Bradley's cheeks, and his eyes sparkle with pleasure. Though it's a tiny bit embarrassing to have it laid out so boldly like that, it's only the truth, and he can't argue with that. "And to think, a month ago I'd no idea of any of it," he muses, following Louis closely. "I just knew I liked a spanking now and then, a bit of rough, and adored getting fucked after I'd already come."

"You didn't have anyone to show you differently," Louis says, dumping their lunch wrappers in the nearby bin and heading for his favourite butcher's stall. "In fact, it actually sounds like you only had people who made you feel self-conscious about your desires. But you're not the only one to take a few years to figure it out or not know until they meet the right person. We have lots of members like that. People are very strange about sex, and they're even stranger about it when their desires don't conform to the so-called norm."

"I suppose it's all in who you meet and what you've learned," Bradley shrugs. "I'm just glad I learned it before I got married or something. It must be awful to go your whole life, not knowing what you're missing but knowing *something* isn't quite right." He thinks about it as they walk. "After how amazing this has been, I don't know that I could go back. Into a so-called normal sex life, like you said. It just. I'm not wired like that, somehow."

"Neither am I," Louis says, standing them in line at the stall. "My parents have already accepted there will be no heir to their fortune after me, no one to take over the manor. I think they're just hoping I'll find someone who makes me happy at this point."

"My sister's engaged and is looking forward to a houseful of kids, and I'm going to be delighted just to be their Uncle Bradley who spoils them rotten," Bradley agrees. "If your father is involved in the business, though..." he thinks about that and then wrinkles his nose. "Oh no, I could *not* handle my parents knowing that much about my sex life! No way!"

Louis laughs loudly. "It works the other way around as well, you know," he tells Bradley, punching him gently on the shoulder. "My parents were members long before I was, and my grandparents and great-grandparents." He sighs. "I didn't have a hope."

"You're *genetically* kinky," Bradley crows, delighted. "Oh my god, you really are. It must be inherited, right?" He punches back playfully, dancing out of reach right afterwards. "Either way, ew, far too much information going both ways, really. Surely though, if you want a kid, you've the resources available? A surrogate, or something? There's all sorts of possibilities out there. Especially if you *do* meet someone who makes you happy."

"Do you want children?" Louis asks.

"Dunno," Bradley shrugs. "Haven't thought about it really, with my school, and work, and all. I think so, possibly, if everything were to turn out right for it. I've always liked my little cousins, playing with them and all. Didn't even mind changing the dirty nappies."

"There you go. If we have children, you can be the one to change their diapers," Louis teases, thankful they're next in line. He greets the butcher and asks for a good hunk of bacon and several pounds of stew beef, chopped into chunks, before turning back to Bradley, still slightly stunned, the conversation having taken a turn he never would have expected. And surprised to find himself suddenly considering something he hasn't in years. Children. A family of his own. He shakes his head a little. "Um..."

Bradley blinks at Louis, unsure why he's suddenly so clearly discomfited. Maybe he recognized someone behind the counter at the butcher shop? He mentally shrugs it off; Louis has his beef for supper, so it's clearly time to head back to the flat. Something he's looking forward to for all sorts of reasons. "So," he says brightly, as Louis continues to look like he's forgotten the English language. "Back to yours, then? Or do we make more stops for your beef bourg...burg...the beef thing you're making?"

Louis gives himself another shake. Merde. "Bourguignon, and no, I need, um, mushrooms and onions. I think I have everything else," he says, packages tucked under his arm, as they head for the next stall selling fresh vegetables. ^A half kilogram of the button mushrooms and the same of the small yellow onions,^ he tells the young woman behind the table who's eyeing them both.

"I'm awfully glad we just ate," Bradley murmurs from Louis's elbow, still hiding a little behind him but easily able to see around his arm. He eyes all the delicious things laid out and sighs. "I've got to bring my friends here some weekend. They'd clear out every shop, nearly, just making up for all the catering food we eat. As it is I'm going to be running a few extra miles in the morning." It's no burden and it's definitely worth it.

"I'm sure I can help you burn some of it off," Louis says quietly, making sure his words are for Bradley and Bradley alone as the young woman fills two brown paper bags, carefully weighing each one.

With a little shiver, Bradley meets Louis's eyes, gets his meaning loud and clear. He presses a little closer, discreetly. "We really can't get back soon enough," he decides out loud, knowing that Louis will be able to hear even though he keeps his voice low.

Louis nods. "I want you naked the moment we get upstairs," he whispers, lips brushing against Bradley's ear. "And on your knees for me."

continued here....

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