“That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your career on the line.”
No, it’s not. He’s right about that, and it’s just the reminder I need why this is a bad idea. I have two choices when it comes to this conversation, and I wasn’t sure which direction I was going to go, but now I am. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Do you want to sit?” I point to the bench. He stares at me for a second, eyebrows pinched together, and I have a feeling I let him down. “Sit down, James,” I amend, telling him what I want rather than asking, though that’s not what this is about.
He walks over to the bench, ass near one edge, as though afraid if I sit down, we’ll be touching. Fuck, I want to touch him so damn bad, but I’m determined to be good.
“Why am I here?” he asks, me standing rather than joining him.
“Because I think you want more guidance than you realize, more than you’ve ever given yourself. You want someone to take care of you.”
“Fuck you. I’ve never depended on anyone in my whole life. I don’t need to start now.”
“Maybe it’s time you did have someone you can depend on,” I argue. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and I didn’t say you needed anything. But it’s okay to want, James.”
“I know who I am and what I want better than you.”
“Do you? Because I feel like I read you pretty well. Did I not give you everything you wanted the times we were together? Was there anything I misjudged?” That’s important for me to know, even if I’m never able to have him again.
He sighs, looking like he wants to lie but doesn’t. “You know you didn’t.”
“Good boy,” falls from my lips. Fuck. I need to stop that.
“I didn’t do anything.”
I don’t respond to his statement. “Honesty only: did you like me making your meals? Telling you to eat?”
He rubs a hand over his face and pushes to his feet.
“I don’t recall telling you to stand.”
“Are we in a scene right now?”
“You’re the one who made it obvious you wanted me to direct you. That wasn’t but five minutes ago. If you want it to stop now, you know what to say.”
Red. Those three letters change everything.
James doesn’t say them. “Yes, I liked it. You know I did.” He takes a seat again.
“Because you like to feel cared for?” I prod. It’s important for me to understand him.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had someone do that before. I didn’t know I would like it, so I can’t really tell you why I do.”
I nod. “You have a lot on your mind, a lot of responsibility.” I think maybe he always has. “Between your career and now having custody of your siblings.”
“Yes, Sir,” he answers, nearly making me weak in the knees. Why are those two words so much more potent coming from him? Why do they make every single pleasure receptor in my body sing?
“I think you would do better with even more guidance—having someone tell you what to do, what’s expected, someone to make sure you’re taking care of yourself and giving you less to think about.” Kink can be about more than sex, and while I don’t know for sure, it feels like this is something James could benefit from.
“I don’t need that.” His leg bounces, and there’s not a part of me that doesn’t know he’s fighting himself not to stand right now, but he’s not doing it because he knows I don’t want him to. As hard as it can be for James sometimes, he obeys so beautifully.
“But it’s okay if you want it, remember?” I take a few steps closer, don’t stop until I’m right in front of him, our legs touching. “Do you want it, James?”
His breath catches, his hands shaking. James looks down at his lap, thinking maybe? Or building the courage to say what he wants.
It feels like a hundred years pass by before he replies, “I shouldn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked, but there’s also no reason why you shouldn’t want that. I didn’t know I would get something out of it either, not until this past week.”
“Why?”
