BiteSizedGabi: Enthusiastic yes.
Eros415: You won’t get scared?
I know he’s probably referencing the way I shut down the night we met. That happens in traumatic situations or when I get too overwhelmed. But I’m drawn to the idea of fear play because it’s structured. We’ve talked through what I want and what my limits are. So even if it’s unscripted, there are still parameters.
BiteSizedGabi: I’ll get scared, but that’s the point. As long as I know it’s you under the mask, I’ll be fine.
A few minutes pass, and I wait anxiously, wondering if he’ll turn me down. Things were tense between us last night as we skirted around the subject of Romeo, but I’m not the only one with secrets.
When I asked Eros why he chose his username, he deflected, questioning my interpretation instead. I wasn’t sure if it alluded to the contrast between Eros and Agape, or Eros and Psyche. The second possibility makes me think there must be someone in his past too, even if it never evolved into an intimate relationship.
The thought that he might love someone else makes me slightly nauseous, so I understand why it bothers him that I have a past with Romeo. But either way, it shouldn’t matter. What we are now is all we can ever be.
When he finally texts me back, I’m relieved until I see his message.
Eros415: I have some homework for you.
BiteSizedGabi: Okay?
Eros415: Take the rest of the week to think about it. Give me three reasons why you want me to be your first. Real reasons, not what you think I want to hear. Be brutally honest.
I stare at the screen, stroking Beppe’s fur as I consider it. Truthfully, I don’t know if he’ll even want me if I’m brutally honest with him. But I think that’s the point.
He’s not in this for immediate gratification. He needs it to mean more to me, and I can’t figure out why. As much as I want that too, it also scares me—because it can’t mean more.
BiteSizedGabi: I’ll think about it. Does this mean I won’t see you this week?
Eros415: You can see me anytime you want, Gabi. All you have to do is call me.
His assurance makes me feel better, and I’m tempted to do it right now. But I need to organize my thoughts, and I really should work on my project.
Eros415: Send me your POTN before you go to bed.
BiteSizedGabi: My what?
Eros415: Pajamas of the night.
I smile and shake my head.
BiteSizedGabi: You first.
A minute passes before a photo comes through. My gaze roams over the long, muscular legs sprawled across the bed—all the way up to his black briefs. The image is cropped, but I can just make out a hint of ink dipping beneath the waistband. And below that, the thick, hard outline of his cock.
“Dear universe.” I close my eyes and clasp my hands together. “Whatever I did to deserve this, thank you.”
BiteSizedGabi: Some morally gray god made you in his image.
Eros415: Deviant.
Eros415: Have your answers ready by Friday.
BiteSizedGabi: So bossy.
Eros415: You haven’t seen anything yet.
The weight of those words settles between my thighs, and I already feel neglected knowing I won’t see him this week.
BiteSizedGabi: I’ll be here if you’d like to demonstrate.
