#sub!darren

He hasn’t looked at the official setlist before now and he’s trying to memorize lyrics from certain songs he only half-knows. He feels like his stomach is full of lead and can’t stop shaking, his nerves overwhelming any ability to concentrate. He isn’t sure what’s wrong with him because this routine is typical. He’s always at his best when he flies by the seat of his pants and doesn’t overthink things, but tonight? His self-esteem is floundering and he’s in danger of drowning if he doesn’t do something soon.

Darren knows what he needs. He needs Chris.

He can pretend that he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but in his heart he knows what’s wrong. He and Chris haven’t spoken in several days aside from a few clipped texts due to traveling and time constraints and Darren is suffering because of it. Not because he’s an overly needy boyfriend that needs to have extensive phone conversations every night to keep his relationship going, no. Because Darren needs his dom.

Up until about a year ago, Chris and Darren unofficially lived together. Most of Darren’s things had found their way to Chris’s spacious home and he rarely if ever went back to his own apartment. This made their relationship easy, especially one very important aspect of it - they were able to maintain a 24/7 dom and sub relationship.

Almost every move Darren made had been controlled by Chris. He dictated what Darren would wear and eat. When he would exercise and when he would sleep. He would allow Darren to leave the house on his terms and ensured that he came back on those terms as well. Additionally, Darren was praised when he did something right, and punished when he did something wrong.

It was the kind of structure he had no idea how desperately he’d needed, and the constant validation was one of his most treasured aspects. Chris constantly telling him he was how “good” he was made him actually start to believe it. He never had to worry about whether he was succeeding or failing, because Chris was always there to tell him.

Although it’s taxing at times, they’re still able to make their long-distance relationship work. They talk, skype, and visit each other often. The two of them are busy and distracted enough to not have to worry about constant communication, and they manage.

But Darren is a sub, with or without Chris. He has his moments, and right now is one of them.

With trembling fingers, he gets out his iPhone and composes a message to Chris. “I need you, Sir,” knowing it will relay his intentions perfectly.

Sure enough, a call comes in on his phone a few minutes later. “Hello, pet.”

The sound of his dom’s voice sends shivers up Darren’s spine; simultaneous shivers of relief and anticipation. “Sir,” he puffs out. “I need you, please.”

There’s a pause. “Okay, sweetheart. What do you need from me?”

Chris’s tone has taken on that quality he only ever uses when he and Darren are in a scene. Darren’s blood rushes south at the thought and he feels himself twitch suddenly in his pants. “Need you, Sir. I’m nervous. I’m not prepared for this show and I need to calm down but I can’t, not without you.”

Chris hums. “I see. Will you be a good boy and do everything I ask?”

“Yes,” Darren agrees desperately. “Anything, anything please.”

“Where are you?”

“The green room.”

“Go make sure the door is locked and then find a chair to sit in.”

Darren does as instructed. By the time he sits back down, he’s already tenting his dress slacks, body desperate and eager. It hits him then that he hasn’t orgasmed in almost a week.

“I can think of an excellent way of calming you down. You’re always so relaxed after you come, pet. Body loose and pliant. You’ll feel so much better after you come for me.”

Darren groans. “Yes, Sir.”

“However, Darren. You are not allowed to touch yourself, do you understand? That cock is mine and mine alone.”

“Yes sir anything, please anything.” His dick throbs, the head pressing at his zipper and just on the right side of painful. “I promise not to touch.”

“Good. Now I want your feet and thighs spread apart, sitting on your hands. Do this now.”

Darren nods, despite the fact that Chris can’t see him. Assuming the position he was told to take, he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear before asking, “Now what?”

Darren regrets the words at they leave his mouth. “Ah, ah, ah!” Chris admonishes. “Don’t you rush this, you desperate little brat. I tell you what to do on my own time, understand?”

Despite being scolded, the power that Chris is yielding wraps Darren up like a blanket; he feels safe, knowing that he no longer has to think or make any decisions at all. He’s giving himself over to Chris completely and the lack of responsibility for anything, even his own body, has him feeling calmed already. “Yes, master. I’m sorry I was bad.”

“It’s okay pet, but you can do better. Now, I want you to get yourself off, okay? I’m going to help you through it, but the number one rule is that you may not use your hands at any point.”

“Okay.”

“Now, what kind of clothes do you have on tonight?”

“Suit and tie.”

“Ah, yes. You always look so handsome in those,” Chris muses. “My handsome boy.” Darren blushes but doesn’t respond, his breathing going shallow and brow starting to sweat.

“I bet your pants are so fucking tight, aren’t they? You never pass up an opportunity to flaunt that tight little ass around, you filthy thing.”

The blood in Darren’s cock surges and he has to wrap his ankles around the legs of the chair to refrain from pressing his thighs together. “Y-yes.”

“That cock of yours is probably pressed so stiff against them right now, hard and throbbing just from hearing my voice. Trapped in your boxers and desperate to be touched even though you know that’s against my rules, right pet?”

“S-sir…” Darren’s trembling again, but for different reasons this time. He’s wildly aroused and he needs to do something about it. Anything.

“I want you to rub against those pants and use the friction to make yourself come. Can you do that for me?”

If Darren’s being honest with himself, he’s about to explode on spot at any moment so yes, he can definitely fucking do that. “I can, sir.”

“Do it now. Pretend it’s me, that it’s my hand that you’re rubbing yourself on. No, better yet... it’s my thigh and you’re sitting in my lap while I hold you tight, keeping you safe and close.”

Darren begins to thrust as soon as he gets permission. He takes his time though; slow and languid at first, making sure to savor every rough drag of his dick against the rough material of his boxers and slacks. He lets his eyes slide shut and imagines himself sitting on Chris’s thigh, humping his leg. He groans, precome spilling out at the imagery.

“Come when you’re ready, sweetheart. You don’t have to hold back, you’ve been so good for me already and this is your reward.”

Darren’s glad he wasn’t ordered to wait because his orgasm sneaks up on him. He comes hard, body doubling over as the words ‘You’ve been so good’ replay over and over again in his mind. He was good. He is good. He can do this.

When he comes back to his senses he feels like a puddle. He can’t stop grinning and it's like he's a new person despite the fact that there’s a wet, sticky mess in his underwear and he needs to be on stage in 10 minutes.

“How do you feel, baby?”

“I feel wonderful, thank you sir thank you so much. But…”

“What is it?”

“I made a mess and I don’t have any clean underwear to change into,” Darren whines, cheeks flushing as he shifts and feels the come drip down his thighs. “What should I do?”

Chris doesn’t even pause. “You will do the show without any underwear at all, and you and I are the only ones who will know about it. Our little secret.”

Darren moans at the thought and fuck, if he hadn’t just come so hard he’d definitely be going stiff again already. “Yes, yes thank you Sir, thank you.”

“Are you okay to do the show now? Still nervous?”

Darren considers, and happily finds that all traces of his earlier trepidation are gone. “Nope. I’m so much better now. Thanks to you.”

“Good. I love you very much, Darren. You’ll do great tonight. Break a leg.”

Darren thanks him again, and they say their goodbyes with promises to talk again later that night. After they hang up, Darren carefully slips out of his pants, peeling his sticky underwear off and throwing them in the trash, not really caring if anyone finds them.

He performs well that night, just as he knew he would. He feels safer and calmer than he has in months, and the memories of Chris’s reassurance get him through the moments of panic when he thinks he might have skipped a word or two. Darren credits his serenity entirely to having come minutes before he walked on stage… but he has to admit. Doing a show without underwear is oddly freeing.

He’ll definitely have to try this more often.