He gave me a sidelong look. “Do you even like guys?”
I stared at him. “Did I not just have your cock inside me —”
“I mean apart from sex. Like, would you ever date a guy?”
The question made me feel exposed, which was silly since I was still naked and we’d been literally having sex less than five minutes ago. “I haven’t thought about it. Would you?”
“I wouldn’t date anyone.”
“Oh,” I said, a little twinge in my gut. “Why—”
“I’m just not interested.” There was a finality in his tone that warned me off asking more questions. “All I’m suggesting is that we keep doing this. You don’t have to decide immediately, but it’s appealing, isn’t it? It’s a ten second walk to the other’s room.”
“So we’d do it in your bedroom too?” I asked, thinking of the one and only time I’d seen Taylor’s room. For someone so neat and tidy, it’d had been strangely messy and chaotic.
“No, because my bed’s too small.”
“And my bedsheets smell like me,” I said, repeating his earlier words.
“Yes.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said after a moment. Taylor held my gaze, and huffed, because we both knew I was full of shit. Even if I wouldn’t agree right now, I’d fold the next time I was horny. “Why me?” I asked. At his raised brow, I continued, “you could have anyone…”
“Haven’t you been listening to me? You’re convenient.”
I turned to stare at the ceiling. “That’s the only reason?”
“It’s not your winning personality.”
I elbowed him. “Shut up.”
He let out a long suffering sigh. “My body has a…reaction to you. I can’t control it. I wish I could,” he said, almost distantly.
“What’s so great about me?”
“Fishing for compliments is unbecoming, Archie.”
“Now you sound like my grandma.”
He looked at me. “You’re pretty.”
“What?” I was so outraged, I sat up. “I am not — I’m masculine. Like super masculine.” I flexed an arm to prove my point.
The Taylor I knew would’ve rolled his eyes or flexed his own muscles to make me feel small, but instead, he smiled softly. “Your eyes.”
“My — my eyes?” I had not expected that.
“That’s enough.” He yanked me down, and I landed closer to him than I’d been before, practically nestled in his arm. I was stunned into silence for a few moments before I remembered myself. To win in these sorts of situations, you had to be ruthless.
“As my slave, I compel you to tell me what you like about my eyes.”
“Safeword.”
“That’s not even a hard question!” I thumped him on the chest. He didn’t react.
“Fine,” I said loudly. “What else do you like about me?” Maybe it was narcissistic to ask, but I didn’t care. How many other opportunities would I have to ask Taylor these kinds of questions?
“Your waist.”
