"What?"
"I want to try something tonight. Something we haven't done since—since before. But I need you to know you can say no. That this is completely your choice. That?—"
I turn in his arms to face him. "What do you want to try?"
His ice-blue eyes are intense. Searching mine. "I want to play. Actually play. D/s dynamics. Commands and obedience and submission. But consensual this time. Negotiated. With safe words and aftercare and all the things we didn't have before. I want to—I want to reclaim what we had then and transform it into something healthy. Something we both choose."
My heart is racing. From anticipation or fear, I'm not entirely sure.
"You want to tie me up? Command me? Make me submit?"
"Only if you want that too. Only if you're choosing it freely. Eden—" He cups my face with both hands. "I loved who we were during training. Loved the dynamic even though the context was wrong. And I think—I think you might have loved parts of it too. The structure. The clarity. The release of control. But it wascoercive then. Non-consensual. Built on captivity. I want to try it again, but built on choice this time. Built on trust. Built on you actually wanting it instead of having no option but to comply."
I think about that. Really think about it.
Do I want that?
Do I want to submit to him when I have the freedom to say no?
The answer, I realize, is yes.
Yes, I want the structure and the clarity and the release of having someone else make decisions.
"Yes," I say. "I want that. I want to try. But?—"
"But what?"
"I need to know I can stop it. That if it gets to be too much, if it triggers something, if I need to stop?—"
"Safe word. Black means stop everything immediately. Gold means slow down or check in. Chrome means keep going. And we'll have aftercare after. I'll hold you and we'll talk and I'll make sure you're okay. This is about pleasure and connection and trust. Not about control or coercion or anything like before."
"Okay. Then yes. I want to try this."
His smile is beautiful.
Relieved and excited and full of love. "Thank you for trusting me with this. For being willing to try. I promise—I promise I'll take care of you. I promise this will be different from before."
"I know. I trust you. I trust us."
He kisses me then, deep and thorough and full of promise, then takes my hand and leads me upstairs to our bedroom.
The bedroom we've shared for eighteen months.
The bed where we've made love countless times.
The space that's become ours instead of just his.
"Strip," he says, and his voice has changed.
Dropped into that commanding tone I remember from before.
The tone that used to make my stomach clench with fear.
Now it makes my stomach clench with excitement.
I pull off my clothes slowly, watching his face as I reveal myself.
He's seen me naked countless times.
