“The team doing good this year?”
Trent is not a hockey fan. I grin. “Yeah. We’re doing okay. Have a game in a few hours.”
“Cool. Maybe I’ll convince Oriel to watch it with me.”
“You do that. I’ll quiz you later.”
“Not fair. Even if I watch, I’m not going to know what I’m watching.”
“Hockey, Trent. You’ll be watching hockey.”
He snorts. “Later, Shively.”
“Bye.”
The call ends, and I sigh. It’s difficult to know when your friends are struggling, even when they’re the reason for their own struggles. There’s a line between knowing that Trent’s paranoia is creating the situation he always found himself in and understanding that he can’t help feeling what he’s feeling.
Telling someone to stop isn’t the answer. You don’t just stop feeling an emotion because you want to. All the people with anxiety and depression and PTSD—you don’t think they want to stop feeling that way? It’s not that simple.
Trent knew he was at the root of this issue, but he felt too helpless to try to get out. Heneededto assure himself that Oriel wasn’t cheating on him. He’d been the other guy before, and he didn’t want to feel the way his sister did.
It’s a strange, somewhat fucked-up situation, but I get it.
It’s easy to get lost in the book again, and I’m so drawn into the story that Dasan closing his laptop an hour later makes me jump. I look at him over my shoulder.
“You at a good breaking point?”
I flip through the pages until I find the next chapter break. “I have three-quarters of a page left in this chapter.”
“Finish. Finish your soup as well.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
I do as I’m told. I situate the book in the stand attached to the tray that keeps it open so I can read while I finish the bit of soup left. It’s cool now, but I don’t mind. It’s still really good. I hope Dasan will teach me how to make it for him one day.
My soup is gone by the time I finish the chapter. After placing the bookmark between the pages, I set it aside and get to my feet. Adding Dasan’s dishes to my tray, I bring everything into the kitchen and clean up.
Talking to the other subs at the Kala meet-up was… educational. While some things turned me off completely, others intrigued me. I’m not big onenjoyinghousehold chores, but the idea of doing some choresforDasan hits me differently. It’s not something I’ve been able to put into words yet, though through my journal entries, I’ve been trying. I visit this topic often to see if I can work out why I take such enjoyment from it.
When the dishes are put away and the tray is back in its storage spot, I join Dasan in the living room again. He’s packing his laptop back in his bag. We’re at my house, of course. The change in scenery isn’t worth the risk of his friends dropping in while I’m getting railed on my hands and knees on his couch.
“Put your leash on, omega,” Dasan says.
The leash is sitting on the coffee table, and I clip it to the little D-ring at the top of my collar before offering Dasan the handle.
“Good boy,” he says and rewards me with a kiss.
I wait until there’s a gentle tug on my cock before following. He likes me to feel that I’m being led around, so I always make sure there’s tension on the leash. Like a dog who doesn’t quite want to be led around.
In the bedroom, he takes my collar off and sets it aside. “Hands and knees, sweetheart. Begin prepping yourself.”
I do as I’m told. I’ve angled myself so I can watch Dasan undress. He’s not in a hurry, watching me as intently as I’m watching him. The moment his cock is released, my lungs try to seize. God, that thing fits inside me. It ignites me!
Dasan moves around the room until he’s out of sight, leaving me fingering and stretching myself all on my own. It’s still an awkward experience that I don’t particularly enjoy, but it’s necessary. I know the difference between mediocre preparation and good preparation, and while I enjoy feeling the reminder that Dasan has been inside my body for days to come, it’s better when it feels good right off the bat.
Dasan shifts on the bed behind me. “On your back. We’re not using a condom today.”
I take a breath and nod. It’s not that I’m opposed to going bare. I love going bare, but it still brings me a moment of anxiety. It’s been the topic of one of my journal entries. A new rule appeared shortly after, telling me he’d read it.
