“Yeah, well…” Charlie took a breath, thinking his words over before speaking them. “Adrian is different. He’s never followed the rules the best. It got him more punishments than a lot of the others over the years. But for some reason, he was determined to stick by me.”
“He’s a good friend,” I said, watching Charlie’s expression shift. “A good man, too.”
I had my doubts about the Omega at first—most of us did. But he was the right fit for Moore.
Moore thrived on the banter, the push and pull, and gave him that without ever crossing the line.
They worked. Not just as a pair, but as something balanced.
I let the thought settle before adding, “So are you, Charlie. You’re good in many ways.”
His eyes widened, startled. Then dropped to the floor like the words were too heavy to hold. But I saw the flicker of something in his posture, something quiet. Like maybe, just maybe, he believed me.
***
Dinner had gone better than expected, rolled tortillas packed with vegetables and meat, simple but satisfying. Each one was smothered in melted shredded cheese, and salsa was added to the top after being in the oven.
Afterward, I returned to the office. Charlie trailed behind, quieter than usual. He’d taken my instruction not to kneel at my feet with a hint of disappointment, though he didn’t argue.
Instead, he drifted toward the bookshelf, fingers trailing along the spines like he was searching for something to anchor himself.
With him occupied, I turned to my computer and pulled up one of the checklists. This one was foundational—basic preferences, soft boundaries, and a few hard limits I personally refused to cross.
It wasn’t about me. It was about understanding my partner.
Their needs.
Their edges.
I had other lists, deeper ones, but those only came out when trust was strong enough to hold the answers.
And with Charlie, I wasn’t there yet. But I wanted to be.
I printed the sheet off, got out the highlighters from a drawer in my desk, and called Charlie over.
Sir?” Charlie’s voice was soft, uncertain. His eyes flicked to the floor before meeting mine again.
“I have a task for you tomorrow,” I said. “Those books you keep glancing at, they’ll be useful.” I slid two sheets of paper toward him. “This is a list. I need your preferences—likes, dislikes, boundaries. Everything from basic posture to more complex things like punishment styles and tools.”
I gestured to the highlighters beside the papers. “Use the color code. Green means you enjoy or have no issue with it. Yellow means you’re unsure or don’t enjoy it, but would still do it if I asked, without resentment. Red means you loathe it. A hard limit.” I looked him in the eye. “I expect complete honesty. Don’t answer based on what you think I want. This is about you.”
He hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes, Sir.” The words were quiet. Honesty wasn’t just about telling the truth. Not here. Not with someone like Charlie. It was about stripping away the instinct to perform. To please. To survive.
And that didn’t happen overnight.
I’d seen Omegas answer questions with perfect posture and hollow eyes. Say “yes, Sir” to things they hated. Smile through discomfort because they thought it was expected.
That wasn’t honesty. That was conditioning.
So when I gave Charlie the checklist, I didn’t care about the answers. I cared about whether he could give them truthfully. Whether he could look at a red mark and say, “I loathe this,” without flinching. Whether he could say no. Because that’s where trust begins.
And if Charlie could reach that—if he could mark those pages with his own voice—I’d consider it the most honest thing he’d ever done.
Even if it broke my heart.
“I expect you to use the book to look up words or phrases that you don’t understand,” I commanded, knowing he wouldn’t ask me. He’d just mark it whatever he thought I wanted. “If you are still confused, I can answer whatever you need help with.”
“Yes, Sir.” His eyes were on the papers, hands clasped in front of him tightly.
