George,
I appreciate the candidness. We can explore what this means, what it could be, together. That said, I’m certain I could find a way to humiliate you remotely, but I’ll abstain per your request. I want to start simple. Tell me what I can do for you.
- Allan
* * *
Allan,
Should I be calling you Sir or something? Is that how this works? This whole thing is honestly humiliating, but it’s not your fault. I wasn’t expecting your question, and I’ve been thinking about it for days. I’m sorry for my absence; I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know much about this kind of thing, but I always thought it was one person telling the other what to do. I thought that would somehow make all of this easier.
- George.
* * *
What do you mean, “all of this?”
* * *
It was a silly thing to say, and it wasn’t what I meant. I’ve still been thinking about your question. It’s been a week since you asked, and I think I finally have an answer. I’ve been having some issues with impulse control lately. That might be an understatement, but I think my life has sort of gotten away from me. I just want it back. But I don’t think you can help.
- G
* * *
Sebastian exhaled and flipped his phone over on his desk. The correspondence he’d been having with Allan had been sporadic, but that was entirely Sebastian’s fault. He’d dawdled and delayed in his answers, put off hitting send on more than one occasion. He fully expected Allan to tell him to fuck off into the sunset, but the replies kept coming.
It was a Wednesday, Sebastian’s least favorite day of the week. There was never any sense of urgency or movement. Wednesday was a useless day stuck between the promises of productivity and leisure. He was bored, directionless, and he found the highs of his day hinging on the ping of an alert message from his phone.
As the days since his divorce ticked on, he’d become more comfortable with the new state of his sexuality, the idea of being with a man. He didn’t want to call himself gay, because he wasn’t, and he knew bisexual fit him best. Sebastian didn’t need to touch another man’s cock to know he was attracted to men. The comfort of admitting his interest settled around him and wrapped him up in a safe sort of feeling he’d never experienced before. He was no longer scared of where things with Allan would go, if anywhere. The prospect of meeting him face to face, or meeting another man, didn’t scare him.
Sebastian welcomed the change, the experience. He’d spent nights up wondering what it would feel like to have a man’s hands on him, then he wondered what it would feel like specifically to have Remington’s hands on him. He touched himself, pretending Remington’s long fingers wrapped around his legs and held him wide, and the first time he pressed against the tight hole of his ass, it was Remington’s name on his lips when he came.
He wasn’t sure when his fascination with Jace’s friend had developed, but it was probably after brunch when Remington had…well, when Remington had taken care of him. Remington wasn’t awkward, but he was sometimes aloof, often and undoubtedly the smartest person in the room. Even though Sebastian had been hammered most of the times they’d been together, he could tell Remington was special. He was different.
Another thing he knew for sure was his fascination with Remington would get him nowhere. Remington was a talker. He was educated and confident, and well aware of how to get the things he wanted to have. He wouldn’t want to bother with someone like Sebastian, who was still piecing himself together. He wouldn’t want to… guide Sebastian in the way he was quickly understanding he needed.
The only person who distracted him from Remington was Allan.
Mysterious and dominant, and hopefully handsome, Allan.
The messages came quickly after his admission, providing Sebastian a schedule and rules, none of which allowed for his nameless vice. He’d started setting an alarm in the morning, eating vegetables with his lunch, sharing pictures with the captivating stranger on the internet because he’d been told to.
All of it made him hard.
He grappled with that part of himself more than any other, not understanding why his body would flood with arousal when he was told to go to bed or after having his menu for the day dictated to him. Allan had told him all the feelings were okay, that it was okay to want to come because of the rules, that it was okay to admit what he wanted.
Guilt nibbled away in the corner of his mind for wanting Allan, for wanting Remington. One had potential, the other a pipe dream. Remington was too good for him, he knew that. Sebastian was a mess. He needed work, he needed… he needed a lot of things. The only thing Remington needed was a quarter of a million dollars in grant money to…
Sebastian glanced up at the clock and hit a button on his phone. Jeremiah, his financial planner, answered on the first ring.
“I don’t think you’ve ever called me this early, Sebastian.”
“It’s almost eight,” he said.
“Exactly.” Jeremiah laughed. “When did you start waking up before lunch?”
“It’s a new thing.” He cleared his throat.
