“That was easy.”
He made an affirmative sound and nodded.
“This weekend?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I pulled back, curling my fingers around his biceps to hold him at arm’s length so I could see if he was pulling my leg.
“I’m about to get evicted,” he teased, “I don’t have a ton of options.”
“Well, I’m happy to be your almost worst case scenario.” I pulled my lips between my teeth, trying to bring my emotions back under control. “Are you serious, though? You want…you’ll…you’ll move in here with me?”
“I want to be with you,” he told me. “And I want to turn Grayson’s room into a sex room.”
“I already have one of those.”
“You what?” Hendrix stammered, reeling back like I’d told him about an affair.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t used it since we’ve been involved.”
“I should be offended, I think, that you’ve been withholding it from me,” he said.
“Come on, Hendrix. We both know the limits of your submission only go so far.”
At that comment, he licked his lips, eyes darting toward the ceiling like he was getting ready to talk himself out of a lie.
“I like that about you, though, so don’t worry.”
“I’ve always…” He trailed off, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from speaking for him.
“Let me make you some coffee for work,” I said softly, padding into the kitchen.
Hendrix followed after me, thinking so hard I could feel him as he climbed onto one of the barstools. He sat silent, the gears turning like mad while I busied myself prepping him a fresh mug of coffee. I slid it to him when it was done, then went to get the tumbler he’d brought over for myself. I joined him at the counter, turning his stool so his knees could nestle firmly between mine.
“You’ve always what,” I prompted.
Hendrix cradled the mug in both his hands, taking the smallest imaginable sip.
“For as long as I can remember, that submission…it’s always been a part of me.”
“I know. A part. Not the whole.”
“I think that after breaking things off with Rome, I revolted from the idea of it, but after going without it for a few months, I missed the comfort of it.”
“Of submission, or of love?”
Hendrix took another drink of his coffee, shoulders heaving with his inhale. “Yes.”
“I’ll take both,” I assured him. “As much of either as you want to give. If you want to submit in the bedroom, you can. If you want to keep it to the playroom, also fine.”
“What about the kitchen?” He smirked at me over the rim of his mug.
“I think it’s a kink of yours, now that you mention it. Getting sucked off in front of the pantry.”
“Location doesn’t really matter.”
“I’m being serious, though.” I bumped his knee with mine. “I am the way I am, and that’s how I’m always going to be. I can take the games or leave them. You, though. You’re non-negotiable.”
