“Oh, will you stop? You offered!”
“I offered to help you out last time! I did not offer myself as your stalking buddy.”
I crossed my arms defensively. “This isn’t like that.”
He rolled his eyes, then sat up straighter. “Then what is it this time?”
“I just got Mike’s blessing to ask him out,” I informed him, rather pleased to tell him the good news.
“Oh, well, that’s a good thing, right? So now you need my help asking him out, or?”
“Or,” I replied, blushing a little. “I um, found out about certain preferences he has in the… um… bedroom.”
His eyes widened. “Fuck. Is he like into some dark shit?”
I laughed, then sobered, because, fuck, Jackson could very well be, but I was in too deep already. Jackson would be mine, darkness and weird kinks too. I would love every part of him. I was the perfect partner in all ways. Or I would be. Soon.
“He’sinto BDSM,” I replied. I felt slightly guilty for telling Dylan when I’d promised Mike it would stay between us. But I needed Dylan’s help, and I couldn’t get it without telling him. “I um, don’t know much about it, but I will need to figure out what it means before asking him out.”
“So, you need my help researching it? Were you afraid I would judge you for being into it too? Because I don’t really mind what consenting adults do behind closed doors. I thought you knew this?”
Did I ever. When I told him I was gay at thirteen, he’d been amazing. It hadn’t changed a single thing between us. Maybe it was the fact that he had two mothers, but I liked to think it was because he loved me so much even then that he’d never lose me over my preferences.
“I need more help than research,” I admitted. “I need to test out my kinks.”
“Veto,” he blurted.
I gasped. “You can’t veto me!”
“I’m not having any kind of sex with you!”
“Sex?!” I shrieked. “Who the hell said anything about sex?!”
“You just did! Kinks!”
I threw my hands up, falling back into the couch. “Yes, kinks! No sex!”
“Oh, then why were you so worried about asking me?”
I knew he’d sensed as much. “Because I need you to play the dom.”
It had been two days since I’d told Dylan to research what being a dom meant. I’d in turn researched subs, figuring this was what Jackson was into. There was too much info for me to know exactly what Jackson would expect from his sub, and when Dylan had asked if I was sure Jackson was the dom and not the sub, I’d hung up on him. If all of this research had been in vain, I would lose it. I couldn’t see Jackson as a sub, but I would love him anyway, even if being a dom wasn’t something I wanted. Hell, I would feel like a kid playing dressup at Halloween, playing a part while everyone around me could see the kid underneath the superman costume.
I was back in Dylan’s apartment, watching Dylan prepare for tonight’s experiment, testing out my kinks.
“So,” Dylan began, walking back into his living room in tight leather pants and no shirt. I choked on my coke.
“Why?” I croaked, my eyes tearing up as I struggled to breathe.
“What? I’m getting into character,” Dylan defended himself.
“I’m surprised you managed to get into those things.” I pointed to the painted-on pants. I had to admit they looked amazing on him.
“We won’t talk about that.”
Of course not.
“You ready or what? I don’t plan on staying in these for more than an hour.”
