Quin turned around, propping himself on the end of the bed. It should have looked ridiculous given his nudity, but Quin seemed at home in his own skin. “We don’t need to do this if you aren’t comfortable.”
Kit clenched his fists. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Have you topped before?”
Kit’s prolonged silence was answer enough.
“Do youwantto top?”
Kit let his head tip back, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.” No, he didn’t want to top. But he also didn’t want to voice that he needed Quin to direct things. Part of Kit still felt ashamed of his desires. He’d never know if they were completely his own, or whether Lawrence had moulded him into someone that craved submission over anything else.
Kit hadn’t been Lawrence’s ideal creation—his creator had wanted someone like Shaun who got off on the pain—but Kit had been close enough. He’d satisfied Lawrence until he’d grown bored. The notion of not being what Quin wanted scared Kit more than he thought possible.
“Look at me, Kit.” Quin’s voice wasn’t demanding, but it held an air of authority that made Kit comply. He met Quin’s soft gaze, and some of his apprehension melted away. “If you don’t want to continue, I’m more than okay with that. Don’t feel you need to do or be anything you don’t want to. No pressure, okay?”
Kit bit down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the maelstrom of emotions that warred inside of him.
Quin opened his arms. “Come here, ba—uh, Kit.”
Without hesitation, Kit threw himself into Quin’s arms with such force that he knocked him flat onto the mattress. Quin let out a soft, “Oof,” but didn’t complain.
Kit burrowed his face into Quin’s neck, inhaling his scent. He never wanted to let go. They both lay there for a while, Kit relaxing to the steady cadence of Quin’s breaths. Eventually, he worked up the courage to murmur a question. “What were you going to call me before you corrected yourself?”
Quin groaned, the rumbling working its way through Kit’s body. “I thought I got away with that.”
Through his fading turmoil, Kit smiled. “Nope.”
“Do I have to tell you? What if it’s embarrassing?”
“Is it?”
“I suppose that depends on your reaction,” Quin hedged.
“Tell me.”
“Okay.” Quin stayed quiet for a few seconds, but Kit waited. He was in a comfortable position and didn’t want to budge. “So, in most of my previous relationships, we’ve had a certain dynamic.”
“Uh-huh,” Kit said, anticipating Quin’s next words.
Quin made a noise of frustration. “Right, I’m just going to come out and say it. I like my partner to call me Daddy. And I like…taking care of them. Their needs. In and out of the bedroom. I’m not overly into rules, and I’m not much of a Dom, but I like the dynamic.” Quin paused, taking a deep breath. “That’s the long and short of it. My cards are on the table. The cat’s out of the bag.” Quin pressed his mouth shut, probably to stop himself from using another idiom.
Kit bit his lip to hide his smile, and satisfaction spread through him. “That’s why you swallowed your tongue when I said that thing about your dad.”
“It’s not…you know it’s not literally like that though, right?”
“I do. So, what were you about to call me?”
“Oh.” Quin ran his fingers through his beard. “I was going to call you ‘baby boy’. I get it if it’s too much too soon, or you’re not into it. It’s fine. I can—” Quin cut off when Kit scraped his fangs down his neck.
“That’s fucking hot, Daddy,” Kit said, testing how the word felt in his mouth. Everything slotted into place at that moment, as if until that point they’d been ever so slightly out-of-sync, and that using the title had finally moved the dial in the right direction.
“Shit, baby,” Quin said.
Kit felt Quin’s growing hardness through his clothing. He wanted to experience it in an equal state of undress, so slithered off of Quin’s lap and onto the floor. Quin opened his mouth to say something, but Kit silenced him by shrugging off one shirt and then the other. He steadied himself and then pulled down the zipper on his jeans.
Kit wasn’t sure if he regretted dressing how he did for the date. It was likely that they’d end up in this position, but the reality of getting undressed in front of someone else was different from how it played out in his mind. He closed his eyes as he shimmied out of his jeans, knowing that Quin could see what he had on underneath.
“Whoa,” Quin said.
