The Valentine Look


“Liam, what colour do you prefer?” Felix asked. He stood at the lingerie counter of a small but very expensive-looking boutique around the back of Knightsbridge, his whole bearing calm, relaxed, and totally confident. He was wearing the long, camel-hair coat that showed off his lovely shoulders, an expensive shirt and slim, tailored jeans, plus the impossibly high-heeled black leather boots that flattered his long, lean legs so well. The mere sound of those boot heels on the shop’s polished, wooden floor made my cock twitch. But this wasn’t the place to surrender to that, so I pressed as discreetly as I could at my groin, adjusting myself.

The glass-topped display was currently covered with a wide selection of underwear. Apparently, specifically, men’s underwear. Not immediately obvious, perhaps, considering the amount of lace and satin spread out in front of us. I’d only glimpsed one price tag, but it was enough that I was still in shock. There were also three—three!—young, male assistants simpering around Felix, desperate for his attention.

And who wouldn’t want that kind of devotion?

Well. Me. Actually.

I’d never shopped in Knightsbridge in my fucking life—or anywhere near it—and this shop was so firmly tucked away in a private alleyway that I’d never have known it was here anyway. The darkened street door, snuggled in between open brickwork walls and the neighbouring shop’s boarded up windows, had no name plate, no trade details.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” I’d protested, as Felix rapped smartly on the door. “I know it’s Valentine’s day, but I assumed we were going out for dinner, maybe on to a party. This place looks like some kind of back street sex club.”

Felix laughed. There was something in his smile that made me think he was secretly pleased I’d got that impression. But the minute the door was opened, we were whisked up to the second floor, through a thick velvet curtain, and welcomed into a room full of shelves and rails of the most outrageous, intimate garments I’d ever seen. There were bodyslips, briefs, stockings, thongs, even a selection of corsets. My eyes kept returning to them.

And I felt Felix’s eyes switch to me, each time.

The staff fawned over Felix like he was royalty. Maybe a famous model was royalty in these situations. What do I know? I only run a gym. And it wasn’t just because they realised he had money to spend. I saw one guy begging an autograph, and another sizing Felix up with his eyes, hopefully just for clothing requirements, else I’d be obliged to have a word with the little tick. The third one never took his eyes off me the minute I stepped in behind Felix. He had that glazed look I saw in some of my clients; the ones who knew what I was like as a Dom, and what they were like when I had them in my playroom.

I was still uncomfortable with the pampering. Dammit, Felix knew I was uncomfortable with the pampering! It just didn’t seem to faze him. If anything, I got the impression he was deliberately provoking it. He spent a long time riffling through the garments they brought for us to consider, finding time to chat with each of the assistants. He let the guys fetch him coffee, and a chair in case he wanted to rest. They brought one for me as well—and it looked bloody comfy—but Felix didn’t give any hint he’d be okay if we sat. So, I didn’t.

But let’s be honest here; I’m a big guy, a confident man in my own right. No one was gonna push me out of my comfort zone and not suffer the consequences. Unless, of course, I wanted them to.

“Liam? Don’t wander, darling.” Felix’s voice was soft, but with that edge of steel that always made the goose bumps rise on the back of my neck.  “These young people want to know your preference.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Of course, I can let them know any details they need for size.”

The Sub young man sucked in a breath of glee. When I glared at him, he blushed. But his gaze ran up and down my body in what I reckoned was a less than professional manner.

Maybe I’d been closer with my sex club guess.

Felix moved closer to me, running his hand along my arm. “This is one of my favourites,” he murmured, lifting a pair of red, low-rise trunks in a very sheer lace. They were hemmed with thin, soft leather trim. They wouldn’t leave anything to the imagination. And they were gorgeous.

My heart started beating faster.

“Yeah. I mean, that one… sure. They’re fine.” Fuck, I sounded a total idiot.

“Please wrap them,” Felix said to the assistant. His hand had tightened on my arm. And maybe his breath was shorter than before? “And those other items I put to one side—please wrap them, too.”

I stared at him a bit stupidly. All this glorious lace and fragile fabric made my head swim. Were the other items for Felix? Was he in the market for stuff like this? He tended to wear much lighter, flimsier underwear, if he wore any at all.

Bugger it, I was getting uncomfortable in my jeans again.

“It’s all for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his mouth close to my ear. “It’s my Valentine’s gift to you.”

“Huh? No way, that’s too much—!”

“And, therefore, it’ll be for me, too. Right?” His pupils were wide; he licked his lips, quickly, delicately.

I shook my head, still protesting. We gifted each other all kind of things, and we didn’t keep account of who spent what. But the bill for that lingerie was gonna be more than I spent on my recent, second-hand spanking bench and the St Andrews Cross. “You can’t—”

“I’m sorry?” He folded his arms, raised one well-groomed eyebrow, and tapped his foot.

I went from uncomfortable to blazing need in two seconds.

“Hush,” Felix said softly. His gaze flicked quickly to my groin, then back up again to my face. His shoulders had tensed. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah?” Well, if that was the way he wanted to play it, I wasn’t above tormenting him in return. I made sure he saw me take a slow, deep breath and broaden my stance. I cracked my knuckles, one hand, then the other. Pity I wasn’t wearing one of my harnesses, but I let my hand slip to the thick leather belt threaded through the loops of my jeans.

Felix gave the smallest, sexiest whimper. He might have the upper hand in many of our scenes, but I was still a Dom…


It was the Sub assistant at my side, holding out the bag of garments for me. Big, dark eyes, whip-thin body, tons of nervous energy crackling off him. I tugged it out of his hands—he seemed to hold onto it for a moment too long—and frowned at him. I threw in a bit of a growl, too.

He sighed, deeply and with great happiness.

Felix coughed and nudged my arm. There may have been just the smallest nip of jealousy in his tone when he spoke, just enough that the Sub backed quickly away.

“I was going to buy you flowers. Take you for a meal, or to that new bar Lizzie and Eliot recommended to us,” he said to me. “Though I suppose it’ll be jam-packed with couples tonight…”

“All paying through the nose for a meal that’d cost them half the price on any other night,” I said, a bit grumpily. Sexual frustration can do that to a guy, I guess. Felix’s cologne was expensive and very subtle, but not in the effect it had on me whenever he was close. I was starting to ache for him.

“And, to be honest,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I can wait to touch you until we get home.”

I bit back a laugh because I felt the same. I had one hand holding a bag of the most luxurious underwear I’d ever owned, but the other hand was free for me to slide around the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss—if only we weren’t in public.

“Mr Dubois?”

It was the first assistant this time, the Felix superfan, who had moved discreetly to Felix’s side.

“I wouldn’t dream of casting aspersions on your assessment of your friend’s size, sir…”

“That’s good to hear,” Felix said primly, though I could see the smile teasing the edge of his mouth.

“But maybe you would like to avail yourself of the fitting room before you leave? Maybe just to try one of the items on. To check the fit. It would be a pity to get home and find they didn’t…” Superfan’s admiring gaze darted to my face, then over my bulky shoulders, and then longingly back to Felix’s hand on my arm, “… suit your purpose.”

I hid my snort, because this didn’t seem the kinda place you made noises like that. But, Jesus, I wasn’t gonna strip off in front of these pretty little things…

“What an excellent idea!” Felix crowed. “Come on, Liam!”

He all but pushed me towards another curtain at the back of the room which obviously hid the changing area.

“Hey, Felix? Not sure about this,” I started to say, but he thrust me through the opening, and whisked the curtains closed behind me. My mouth still gaping, I stood there in a small, prettily-scented room with a full-length mirror on the wall, clutching my shopping bag, and listening to him still outside, talking to Superfan.

“Please see we’re not disturbed for a while. Yes? Good.”

I couldn’t hear Superfan’s respectfully murmured words, but he seemed to end on a question.

“Well, of course I shall go in there with him,” came Felix’s snap of a reply. “After all, I am paying for them.”

I blinked hard. Glanced at my wrapped gifts. And my gut suddenly twisted. “I am paying for them”. Bloody hell, what did he think was going on here? We both knew he earned several times more than I did, even if his modelling was only part time at the moment while he grew his photographic career. And we both knew how we’d met in the first place, when he had paid for my time. But nowadays I thought we had an agreement—we shared everything, where needed. Jesus, if he was gonna get arsey about this, I could pay my own fucking way—!

Then Felix slid into the small changing area with me, and the curtains twitched shut again. He lifted that soft, heated gaze that he wears so well to me, but then obviously caught the unwelcome look on my face.

“Oh my God!” His eyes widened with alarm, and he dropped his voice to an urgent hiss. “Did you hear all that? Liam, please forgive me turning on the diva elocution. Lizzie always said that if I tried, my vowels could give the Prince of Wales a run for his money! But I wanted to come in here with you, and I didn’t want the Fun Boy Three to come in with us.”

Relieved, I let a tease escape. “You don’t? But they’re so-o-o keen to help…”

He thumped me on the arm, then winced. One day he’d remember how it hurt him a lot more than it hurt me. “The only person I want helping you with your underwear is me. I want to see what they look like on. And I want to see that now.”

“You sure this isn’t just so you can admire your kept man dressed in your extravagant new purchases?”

“Fuck off!” he snapped. I loved hearing him swear; it was one of the ways I knew we were on the same level as men, underneath all the trappings. “They’re a gift for you, but if you don’t want them, or if the money I spend on you makes you feel awkward, despite the fact it makes me deliriously happy and is probably the only thing worth spending my embarrassing riches on—”

I kissed him, then, partly to shut him up, partly to reassure him I was only teasing, and that I knew he was never gonna be that kind of a twat, and partly… because I could.

“Oh.” He parted from me when we drew breath. His eyes were glazed and his cheeks pink. “Oh.”

I lifted the top parcel out of the bag. I ran my hands over the soft tissue paper; it crinkled under my rougher fingertips. And the ribbon the assistants had used looked suspiciously like real silk. I’d never seen such gorgeous quality wrapping in my life. Not that I’d ever wrapped anything beyond a supermarket carrier bag. Gifts had never really been my thing. When you were built like I was, and liking the kind of kink that I did, my boyfriends had never wanted much more than my exclusive attention—and maybe a well-placed paddle.

“Open it,” Felix breathed, his voice ragged. “Please?”

Everything was in delicate, seductive shades of red. Including those trunks that I unwrapped slowly, running my fingers over the pretty lace, along the soft, supple leather of the trim. Yeah, red was becoming my favourite colour.

“Put them on.” Felix’s voice was so hoarse, he was having trouble keeping up the pretend-Dom attitude. I loved him for his attempts, though. When it worked, he could reduce me to quivering submission. But he always said he didn’t want to be a daytime Dom—it was just for us in the bedroom.

So, maybe it was my time to re-assert my natural state.

I wriggled out of my jeans and dropped my briefs. Then I stepped into the delicate lace garment and pulled it up my legs. It was a tight fit, but that was what I liked. The stretchy fabric hugged my hips and nestled over my groin. When I looked down, I could see the darker skin of my cock and balls behind the transparent red lace. I was altready half-hard. Peering over my shoulder into the mirror, I saw it looked as decadent at the back too, where it clung to my buttocks and clearly displayed my crack. I clenched my cheeks, just to watch the effect.

Glancing back up, I caught Felix with his mouth slightly open and his rapt gaze on my junk.

“Felix, sweetheart, surely, you’re not thinking of doing anything here? Right now?” Fuck that, I knew exactly what he was thinking. But provoking him was fun. “The pretty boys are only the other side of that curtain.” Probably listening in, too, though I didn’t say it aloud. If they were listening, let them have the naughty illusion of secrecy.

Felix sighed softly. His pupils were glassy. “Of course not. I know you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.”

I scoffed. “I can do whatever’s necessary, Felix. I think it’s you who needs to work on your responses.” Whichever one of us was calling the shots, he was the one who cried out so loudly when we fucked.

He blushed and smiled. But his fascinated gaze was back on the trunks and my crotch. “I love them,” he said, with some kind of awe. “The way the lace clings around your cock. The shadow of your balls behind. Your tattoos peeking over the waistband.”

“I love you,” I said simply. “Thank you for your gift.”

“Nonsense, Liam, it was selfish on my part. It was what I wanted to do. Right?” He gave a dismissive shake of his head and sighed even more deeply. Quickly, he licked his lips, though I wasn’t sure he realised he was doing it so often. “And another thing I want… I really want to suck you off.”

“That’s lucky,” I said.

“It is?” He blinked hard at me.

“Because that’s what I want, too.” I deepened my voice. “Get on your knees.”

His eyes widened. “But you just said—”

“Now,” I interrupted. I couldn’t speak too loudly, but I put my sharpest edge to the word.

He dropped at once onto the wooden floor, with a shocked gasp.

I stepped close to him, hitched up my shirt, eased my cock out of the trunks—which had been getting tighter and tighter as we bantered—and nudged his cheek with the damp tip. He opened up his mouth immediately; hungrily.

“I’d like to take longer,” I said softly. “To tease you. Edge us both. But there’s no time for that now. Make me come, fast and well, and I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

He didn’t look at all resentful as I slid in between his glossed lips, instead welcoming me greedily. But he took his time licking up my length, the way I liked, warming me up for heavy sucking.

And then he started that, too, in earnest.

It brought me up on my toes as his mouth engulfed me. I think that amused him, because his eyes were twinkling as I gazed down at him, his coat splayed out around him on the carpet, his thighs tensed inside his tight jeans, his throat stretched high above his shirt collar as I thrust into him. He grasped my thighs to keep himself steady. Which was a bloody good thing because with every rocking movement into his mouth, I was losing my own cool. The excitement of his caress, the background whispers of activity in the shop, the brush and clutch of the lace on my body as the trunks shifted…

I sucked in a tight breath. It wouldn’t be long. Embarrassing, maybe—but maybe not, when it was because Felix excited me so much.

“I love your looks,” I murmured down to him.

“My…?” His voice was muffled. I could feel the pulse in his wrist where he gripped me. It was fast and hard.

“When you’re modelling,” I said, almost absent-mindedly, “you have a bland but brooding look. I guess that’s what your sponsors want. And when we’re with friends, you have a welcoming, fascinated look that charms them all. Whereas, when we’re at home alone, or at the Haven, and when you want to take charge—?”

His pupils blew even wider as my cock bumped the back of his throat.

My voice was shaky now. “Well, that’s a dark and delicious look. As dark as when you need me so badly that your eyes follow me across the room, and your cheeks colour, so very sweet with desire. And almost as delicious as the look of outrageously sexy shock when you come over me. Or in me. As you will, tonight.”

He was shaking as well now; there were tears of desperation at the corners of his eyes. I brushed them away with my fingertips.

“But this look?”

He gazed, questioningly, trustingly, even as he must have felt me swell.

“It’s the very best of all.”

How did I describe it and do it justice? The love in his eyes as he gazed up at me, the desire as he sucked me down more fiercely, the mischief as he tightened his lips around me, drawing the climax from me like I had no control over my body at all…

Which, of course, I didn’t. With a gasp that I was sure they’d hear from behind the closed curtain, and probably away to the nearest Tube station, I shuddered and came all over his tongue. My head went back and I jerked as it spilled from me, and Felix lost his balance for a second. My cum spat trails on his cheeks and chin before I could aim back between his lips.

Our panting was the only sound, but it was horribly, ecstatically loud.

I sagged back against the wall, trying to keep myself upright on weak legs. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry. I heaved in breaths, trying to steady the flow of air to my aching lungs. Slowly, Felix released my cock, his own breath stuttering. Glancing down, I watched the final spurt of cum drip onto my new lace briefs. A splash of sticky white on the glorious, bright red.

Felix leaned back on his heels and stared up at me. His face shone with pleasure, his tongue slipping out to lick up whatever cum he could reach. I’d have to lick the rest off myself, before we ventured back out into the shop. His breath hitched and he hummed quietly, a satisfied sound; I think he was thinking the same thing.

“This look is the best,” I repeated in a whisper, cupping his chin in my hand and brushing his long hair off his face before it got too sticky.

“The Valentine Look.”

Here’s the author’s inspiration….

And here’s an adorable graphic from reader/reviewer Dawn Barrell, inspired by the story…

PLEASE do not share without Dawn’s permission, you can find it on her Instagram account.
Design is her own, other photos may be under copyright.

copyright Clare London as Stella Shaw 2023