His friend sat practically before the words were out of his mouth.
“Now you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you so that we can figure out how to fix it together. And neither one of us are leaving until we do that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an unimpressed brow when Knuckles rolled his eyes. “I’m 100 percent serious.”
Knuckles muttered something under his breath and scrubbed at his face, then said, “Are you gonna fuckin’ lay in bed with me too?”
That drew Rooster up short. “What?”
Knuckles waved a hand in the air. “Never mind. This conversation is just causing some major déjà vu.”
That had to mean that someone else had already talked to him. Rooster figured it had to have been earlier in the year. Someone else must have noticed what Rooster had, how gaunt Knuckles had started to get with dark smudges under his eyes.
“I’m worried about you,” Rooster said, trying a different tack. “A lot of us are. You haven’t been yourself for a while, and we just want to help.”
Shoulders sagging, most of the anger seemed to seep out of Knuckles. He rested his forearms on his thighs, staring down at his shoes. “It’s nothing anyone can help with. I just… I need to figure some stuff out. That’s all.”
“Talk to me, man,” Rooster said, grabbing a chair from across the room, dumping the dirty clothes on the seat onto the floor, and dragging it over. He spun it so the back was facing Knuckles, only a couple of feet from where he was still staring at the ground, and straddled it, resting his arms on the tall back. “Whatever you’re trying to work out, you don’t have to do it alone. It’s kind of the whole point of being in a club.”
Knuckles snorted, rubbed at his eyes again. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Rooster decided to wait to see if he could pull the truth from him with patience and a little silence. It used to be the best way to get information out of him. Knuckles never could stand silence for long, eventually filling it with useless chatter.
This time, his jaw tightened, a stubbornness stealing over him that Rooster wasn’t used to.
“Hey, Knuckles, look at me,” Rooster said softly, waiting until those brilliant blue eyes were holding his own. “I love you, brother. Please let me in.”
All that foreign obstinance leaked out. Knuckles swallowed before glancing away and saying softly, “I chickened out.”
“About what?”
“A few months ago, I talked to Houston, and I thought maybe I might be, you know…” His eyes darted toward Rooster and then away again. “…a sub.”
Rooster was very careful not to react. Of all the things that he thought might be bothering his friend, this hadn’t even been on the list. “What exactly did you chicken out about?”
Knuckles shrugged. “I thought I would, you know, maybe try it out at one of our classes.”
“But?” Rooster prodded.
“I don’t know, man. It just didn’t feel right,” Knuckles muttered. “There weren’t that many Dommes who came to the classes. Most of the women were subs themselves and came with other club members.”
Rooster nodded, even though Knuckles wasn’t looking at him still. That was true. The classes had been more about preparing those in the club who were interested in the lifestyle for parties Houston wanted to host. There hadn’t been a lot of community members at the classes, so he could see how that would be discouraging for someone just beginning to figure themselves out.
But he still could have learned about what it meant to be a sub, the different aspects of the lifestyle, types of play. Instead,Rooster was pretty sure he’d stopped coming a few months ago. He hadn’t exactly been keeping track of who was and wasn’t there, but he didn’t remember seeing him at the last few classes.
“Did you want to try something else?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Like what?” Knuckles asked, glancing at him again.
“I don’t know, like an app or maybe going to Zachary’s club.”
At the mention of Houston’s friend, a Dom he’d known for years who helped teach the classes, Knuckles flinched, his eyes widening just a little, and he shook his head quickly. “No. That guy creeps me out.”
Rooster frowned. “Has he been inappropriate with you?”
Knuckles ducked his face down again. “No, nothing like that. I just… I don’t know. He stares at me a lot.”
Rooster pressed his lips together to keep his smile from breaking free. He was pretty sure, based on the things Zachary had shared when he’d led the classes or demonstrated equipment, the man was some flavor of queer. And Knuckles… he was hot. Like, the kind of good-looking that people did double takes of on the street. Even with all the holes he’d put in his face over the last year, Rooster could understand why the Dom had a problem keeping his eyes to himself.
“Do you want me to tell him to stop?” he offered. If he were really bothered by it, Rooster would absolutely talk to Zachary. The man was a big stickler for driving home the fact that sub comfort was one of the most important things in a BDSM setting.
Unless their discomfort was the point of negotiated play.
