In public, Mustang thinks for a panicky moment, then images of the submissives on display flip crisply through his consciousness like a dealer shuffling a deck of cards. In public seems to be among the norms here. Even so, it’s a step beyond his comfort zone.

If Mustang feels apprehensive, it’s because what Vrenille asks of him is to control himself and submit not only in body but also in mind.

And he will. He knows this as clearly as his erection juts that much higher.

A mask of his usual confidence settles firmly on his face. Roy gives Vrenille a curt nod and pivots with a sharp, military grace; he makes his way past a salesman to enter a dressing room next to a wall to ensure there’s only one side to which he’ll expose himself.

It’s a relief to remove the paper gown, even knowing he’ll don it again. He just hopes his cock will behave after this. It’s a real concern since he’s twenty-nine and in the midst of his sexual prime. Mustang hangs the gown up neatly before reclaiming the jockstrap and eases it on one leg at a time.

Now he waits, pressing his hands flat against the mirror, looking at himself. He can’t wait to be taken, to revel in Vrenille’s golden skin flush against the paleness of his own.