Page 3 of Midnight Sun
When Peter arrives with the drinks several minutes later, Jamie still feels a bit off balance. He tunes out Peter’s awkward attempts to make conversation and goes over his plans for the next months: training, rehearsals, and the first shoots for the new movie. He wants to give his best performance. The personal trainer, who’ll also help him with his stage fighting, better be up to the task. He can’t waste his time on amateurs.
Jamie is pulled out of his thoughts when two men enter the stage. They’re both tall and dressed in black, and Jamie is momentarily intrigued, for he can’t make out who’s the Dom of the pair immediately. He’s normally pretty good at reading people’s dynamics.
“Good evening, everyone,” the taller one says. Jamie is surprised by the gentleness of his voice and his soft accent. “I’m Thorfinn and this is my friend Halldór, who graciously stepped in to help me with my demonstration tonight.”
The slightly smaller one is still a bear of a man, stocky and broad-shouldered, with brownish-red hair and a well-groomed beard. He does a little bow and grins at the audience.
“Hæ, folks! You have the honor of witnessing me lose my BDSM virginity today. Let’s hope Finn’s ropes hold my weight.”
Jamie snorts involuntarily. The eyes of the taller man snap up, and for a second their gazes meet. He shouldn’t be able to see Jamie in the sparse light, but his intense gaze zeros directly in on him. Jamie feels his cheeks warm as the man sends him a knowing smile, his icy-blue eyes crinkling.
What’s that supposed to mean? Jamie’s brows furrow and he glares at the man, but that seems to only fuel his amusement. What a self-centered arse! Doesn’t he know who Jamie is?
“Despite Halldór's inexperience, we’re going to show you some advanced suspension techniques tonight. Please note that Halldór and I have worked together in a physically demanding profession for a long time and trust each other implicitly.”
Halldór groans. “Why don’t you just say we’re stuntmen, Finn? You make it sound like we’re strippers or something.”
Peter laughs with the rest of the audience while Jamie rolls his eyes. Stuntmen. He knows that special breed, so full of themselves.
“Nothing wrong with being a stripper, mind you,” Halldór continues. “But can you imagine me doing any kind of advanced dancing, let alone gymnastics? That takes a lot of skills, which I certainly don't have.”
“You would look like a dancing bear,” Finn says dryly, and Jamie has to bite down on a smile. “And please only speak for yourself. I’m no stuntman.”
“Yes, yes. Consulting swordsman and what-not. Who’s being ridiculous now?”
Finn chuckles. “Okay, folks, now that you know a bit more about us, let’s go through the usual safety instructions. You know the spiel. Play only when sober. When you’re unsure if your skills are up to the task, don’t take any risks out of a false sense of pride. Practice some more, seek help. Communicate with your rope bottom.”
“That’s me,” Halldór laughs.
“That’s you, sweetheart.”
“Cupcake.”
“You’ll have to switch ‘cupcake’ for ‘sir’ tonight.”
“Sir Cupcake?”
Finn laughs and guides Halldór by the shoulders to where he wants him. Jamie’s frown deepens. Something about their banter and playful interaction rubs him the wrong way. He’s so used to the never-ending competitions with his male peers that he has difficulty wrapping his head around the concept of two dominant personalities seamlessly working together.
“Sir suffices, but thanks for your effort, honey plum.” Finn turns to the audience again. “We’re going to look into the intricacies of suspending larger bodies tonight. But don’t worry, this is a demonstration, not a workshop, so lean back and enjoy, everyone.”
Jamie can’t imagine that it’s going to be a pleasurable experience seeing a guy like Finn struggle to drag a giant like Halldór into a suspension. He knows Shibari isn’t limited by weight. But although Finn appears to be athletic enough, Halldór is much burlier, and it takes much more skill to suspend someone heavier than oneself.
So, Jamie sips his drink and waits for some kind of misfortune to unfold and maybe even to have a good laugh at Finn’s expense, but the minutes pass and nothing happens. Jamie’s thoughts drift sluggishly as the soft melody of Finn’s voice along with his measured, graceful movements lull him into a trance. He is mesmerized. His gaze follows Finn’s long-fingered hands tying knots and caressing bulging muscles. He's never seen someone bringing such a big, bulky man as a rope bottom and some part of Jamie, which he has never encountered before, wishes to swap places, wishes it were him cradled by the ropes and suspended in the air.
“This looks amazing,” Peter's voice cuts through his haze. Jamie blinks. He realizes with sudden clarity that he’s uncomfortably hard, his cock pressing against his fitted jeans. What the actual fuck? He has never been interested in being a rope bottom. He has always seen himself as a Dom in every aspect of kink, but now unbidden images flood his mind. Jamie sees himself kneeling, hands tied on his back. He can feel Finn behind him, his large hands caressing his shoulders before he shoves him face-first into the sheets and…
Jamie shakes his head. Where on earth did that come from? The feeling of desire, sudden and sharp, reminds him of the first time he took a glance at a porn magazine as a boy when he discovered the appeal of soft curves, of the first nights out partying in his youth when he realized that he found boys just as delicious as girls, of his first steps into kink when he learned that being a Dom was exactly what he needed. But these thoughts are not him, he’s neither a bottom nor a sub. He just isn’t wired that way. He could never trust a person to see him so vulnerable. Jamie barely registers that the demonstration ends and the audience applauds.
“This is tedious. I want to leave.”
Peter shoots him a confused glance, but he’s far too good a PA to question him.
“I’ll tell the driver to get the car ready.”
Peter scrambles up to make a call. The burning unease Jamie has felt for months is worse than ever, a confusing mixture of frustration, exhaustion, and longing for something he doesn’t even know. He suddenly can’t sit and wait for Peter to finish his call, so he stands up and slips into the private part of the club where the VIP playrooms and the dressing rooms are situated. He remembers a door to the little garden in the back of the building from one of his previous visits, and the need to get outside becomes overwhelming.
Jamie is glad that the backstage area is relatively quiet, most people gathering in front to see the next act. He finds the door and pulls it open, stumbling into the darkness outside. He registers the shadowy figure of another person at the same moment he loses his balance on the uneven cobblestones of the backyard. Jamie yelps as he collides with the stranger, who’s quick-witted enough to support him with one arm around his waist and the other wrapping around Jamie’s forearm. For a confused moment, Jamie is sure his weight will send them both to the ground, but instead his face is pressed against the man’s chest while the other merely balances his stance.