It all began with ritual. Before the younger man arrived at his office, Charles set his work aside and dismissed Grace for the evening. A flutter of nerves connoted anticipation as he awaited a knock at the door. No matter how common these evenings became, the manager still couldn't escape that. He and Skwisgaar become fluid—comfortable—and yet his stomach jumped when finally the expected guest made himself known. "Ah, come in."
The tall blond entering his domain was different from the haughty man Charles encountered through his daily grind. It came as a shock the first time Toki lent his slave. Charles, like the other boys, held objective knowledge that the guitarists practiced a relationship more extreme than typical couples; however, simply knowing the lead submitted to the rhythm couldn't compare to whom he experienced in scene. Charles respected Toki's privilege as possessor not to ask specific questions of the equation's other half, but Skwisgaar's initial spiel reinforcing his owner's will still dwelled: "My Master say I ams to sorve you untils you dismiss me. He tolds me not'ing except dat you two has discussed what ams and amn'ts acceptable, so I has prepareds for anyt'ing."
The Swede wasn't happy to relocate from his usual domain, in the beginning. Although Charles didn't say anything as the younger man awaited his first order, he commended the lack of resistance displayed. Toki quite confidently stated Skwisgaar would do as told whether he liked it or not. In present, adjusted as well to the ritual, the blond automatically undressed at the door and folded his clothes for later acquirement. In the beginning, when that particular instruction came, tight lips and a lowered gaze preceded the exposure of pale skin.
"Choose whichever you like," Charles said as Skwisgaar went next to his cigar collection. He harboured no preference this evening.
"Woulds you like a drink, too?" With his back turned, Toki's mark on the man manifested as haphazard lines across his backside and upper thighs. A caning, from perhaps within the last forty-eight hours. Although curious, Charles refrained from asking the Swede what he'd done to earn such a reward.
"Please. Ah, there should be an open bottle of brandy. Three fingers will suffice."
Skwisgaar's nudity didn't faze Charles—he'd of course already seen the man naked through years of managerial work. Neither appreciation for sexuality nor aesthetics motivated Charles to mirror. Any submissive he ever played with could expect reminder of their position beneath him; even if the Swede didn't need that, the collar freshly removed from his neck sought replacement. While Skwisgaar begrudged revealing his body to someone other than his owner, Charles could mark the exact moment he reminded himself just whom he really did this for.
That same determination set the brandy glass on the desk before Skwisgaar kneeled beside. Rising briefly off his haunches, he slipped the cigar past Charles' lips. The flick of a lighter brought about smoke to lazily lap through the air between them. Through that, Charles casually observed widened blue eyes. He'd almost call it an innocent demeanour. Malleable, more accurately.
Toki gave consent for Charles to fuck Skwisgaar, if he wanted. Curiosity led Charles to consider the prospect, but ultimately it had yet to happen. Quite possibly, it never would. Aside from rarely allowing anyone to see him lose his composure, this brand of abstinence satisfied much more than some cheap sexual act. Everyone knew the Swede could offer an array of pleasure between the sheets. This, the blond kneeling so patiently with his hands folded in his lap, straight posture, and a silent gaze reading every nuance hinting toward potential want was such an infrequency. Full lips parting interested him more; the minor bounce they produced against the cigar fascinated him, as well as the ashes landing first in the dip of Skwisgaar's tongue followed by his stomach with quick throat work.
"You're, ah, getting good at that."
"Tack."
"You never did this sort of thing before, did you?" Charles needn't ask, given how difficultly the Swede initially accepted his ashes. However, silence didn't suit the office tonight.
"No, Sir. My Master amn'ts into it."
"What about before he took you?"
"No, Sir."
While Charles could never claim anything near as vast the monopoly Toki did over Skwisgaar, it endeared him that he might have been a first for anything. He simultaneously enjoyed and disappointed in the primary grimace, and not until Charles arrived at a band meeting shortly after sharing a cigar with Spanish diplomats did he appreciate the bond only they two shared. For a brief second, as Charles greeted his boys, a twitch of Skwisgaar's nostril preceded attention more rapt than he'd ever received in the conference room to date. The rigorous training Toki put the man through paid off beautifully; while in the past Charles expended ridiculous time and energy curbing the latest argument or influx of ego, he couldn't be prouder that they found a more constructive use of their respective vehemence. Charles' involvement, however much a surprise, offered an unexpected luxury.
"Didn'ts anyone do dis for you?"
"Not for a long time," Charles answered. "I, ah, tell your Master on a frequent basis that he should never take you for granted. It's quite an honour, to be chosen by a slave as willing and dedicated as yourself."
The compliment rolled through the blond before emerging as a smile. "Tack."
"I'm a lucky man, for him to share with me on occasion." Charles knocked more ash into the Swede's mouth. "Your value isn't lost on me either, Skwisgaar."
Praise caused the guitarist to fidget until the final drops of brandy left the glass and the cigar grew too short to smoke. With Skwisgaar's need for servitude increased rather than zapped, Charles handed the butt over as mark of their evening's end. "You may return to him."
"Tack."
The Swede's knees cracked when he stood. Charles watched casually as the man redressed at the door and stuffed this session's gift into his pocket, to be given to Toki when their paths next crossed. The next time the manager would see Skwisgaar, however, he'd deal with an overindulged, ignorant rockstar again.