His voice was controlled. Clinical, almost. Like he was explaining a technical phenomenon rather than admitting he was hard for me.
But through the bond, I felt the truth. Felt how much effort that control cost him. Felt his desire—sharp and hungry and barely restrained.
"That doesn't explain why you're—" I shifted again, making sure he knew I'd noticed.
"I'm aware." His hand pressed against my back, holding me still. "But you're not ready for that. Not emotionally. You're still in subspace. Still vulnerable from the discipline. I won't take advantage of your altered state."
His restraint should have made me feel safe. Should have reassured me that he was trustworthy, that he'd protect me even from my own impulses.
Instead it made me want him more.
"What if I feel ready?" I pushed myself up slightly, enough to meet his eyes directly. The blanket slipped from my shoulders. "What if I want this? Want you?"
His control visibly fractured. I watched it happen—saw the clinical mask crack, saw raw hunger flash across his expression before he wrestled it back under control.
"You feel ready." His hand slid down my back, fingertips trailing electricity that made me gasp. "But feeling ready isn't the same as being ready. You're still coming down from discipline. Your judgment is compromised by endorphins and subspace."
He was right. Some distant analytical part of my brain knew he was right. But my body didn't care about right. My body caredthat he was hard against me, that electricity sparked everywhere we touched, that the bond between us pulsed with mutual want.
"I won't take advantage of that," he continued. His voice had gone rough. "Won't complete the bond while you're in an altered state and potentially unable to give genuine consent."
The words were perfect. Exactly what I should have wanted to hear. Evidence that he was careful, considerate, that my wellbeing mattered more than his desire.
I made a frustrated sound. Shifted in his lap, deliberately grinding against the hardness pressed to my hip. "What if I want you to?"
His control shattered.
It didn't break loudly. No explosion of violence or loss of authority. Just a sharp inhale. A tremor in the hand still resting on my back. The spike of desire through the bond so intense it made my lightning scars flare bright.
"Thalia." My name came out strangled. A warning. A plea.
I held his gaze. Watched the war happening behind his electric-blue eyes. Restraint battling want. His responsibility to protect me from my own impulses fighting against the simple fact that we both wanted this.
Through the bond, I felt the moment he made a decision.
He stood in one fluid motion, cradling me against his chest. The blanket fell to the floor. For a moment I thought he was carrying me back to the nursery—returning me to the safe space, ending this before it could go further.
Instead he crossed to his desk.
Set me on the edge carefully, his hands firm on my waist. Stepped back just far enough to meet my eyes. His chest heaved with controlled breathing. His hands trembled slightly where they rested on the desk on either side of my hips, caging me without touching.
"Then we compromise." His voice carried thunder underneath. Authority reasserting itself but differently now. Not the stern discipline from earlier. This was darker. Hungrier. "We can explore. Touch. Build anticipation. Learn what makes you feel good."
His eyes held mine with intensity that made heat flood between my legs.
"But full consummation waits until tomorrow. Until the bonding ceremony completes your transformation. Until you've had time to process what happened today and can consent with full clarity." His thumb traced along my jaw, sending sparks cascading. "Understood?"
The compromise made sense. Gave me something while still protecting me from potential regret. Let us explore this want singing between us without pushing too far too fast.
But more than that—it was another rule. Another boundary. More structure being established, tested, proven real.
"Yes," I breathed. "Understood."
His eyes flashed pure silver. "Yes, what?"
Heat flooded my face. "Yes, Daddy."
"Good girl."
