“You’re so mouthy, but so compliant,” he observed, raising one of his hands, but not touching me. “What must it be like in that brain of yours?”
“Messy,” I admitted.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
His hand landed on my head much gentler than I’d expected, and he carded his fingers through my hair with a familiar tenderness.
“What are your limits?” he asked.
“I don’t think you’ll find them.”
His fingers tightened in my hair. “That wasn’t the question.”
“They’ve changed recently,” I said softly, worried about voicing the thoughts I’d been wrestling with. For my whole life, I’d had limits. And I’d especially had limits for the things I was about to do with Ronan, but as the years ticked by… I wanted to live a little more. I wanted to trust and take some risks. I’d always enjoyed playing on the edge of what most people would consider safe and sane; I was ready to go past the line. Over the edge, so to speak.
“Oh?”
I nodded, and Ronan petted the top of my head.
“Tell me,” he said again.
“Instead of that…” I cleared my throat. “Can I tell you some things I would like to try?”
Ronan chuckled. “Alright.”
“I would like to try breath play,” I forced the words out in a rush, the admission I’d been sitting on for months. I understood there had to be a certain level of trust between partners for that kind of play, and I hoped that one day...someday…
“Would you now?” Ronan asked.
“Yes, Ronan.”
“What else?”
“Not against...knives.” I barely heard the word as I said it, and Ronan growled in response, taking his hand out of my hair. Above my head, he cracked his knuckles.
“I am,” Ronan said.
“Alright.” I nodded quickly, looking up to judge his expression, to see if I’d gone too far.
I hadn’t.
Ronan stared down at me like he was in love with me.
“I like impact play,” I tried, walking my interests back to something less intense.
“You like the pain?” he asked, settling his hand back on top of my head. He dragged his fingers through my hair, down the side of my scalp to my earlobe. Ronan traced the shape of my ear between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.
“So much.”
He pinched the shell of my ear between his blunt fingernails, drawing a surprised gasp out of my throat. “I can do pain.”
“Good,” I grunted, Ronan’s nails digging deeper into my skin.
“What about sex?” he asked.
“Please.” I’d already started to get hard from kneeling, from being in a play space, from Ronan touching me.
