“I just mean—” I glance at him, and then immediately regret it. “You look… distracting.”
He smirks. “That sounds like a you-problem.”
“You’re telling me,” I mutter to myself.
We step inside together, masks on, keys tucked into the front pocket of our lapels. The space is stunning. It’s filled with dark wood, low lighting—a simple but luxurious décor that is welcoming and enticing. The opening cocktail hour is social and exploratory. People circle each other, assessing, admiring. Always respectful, of course, but the undercurrent of arousal already fills the air.
Every eye in the room is on Ari. Not in a gawking way, but in a way that recognizes they’re in the presence of something ethereal. They’re in just as much awe of him as I am.
Even I feel their eyes on him like a physical pressure, like I’m standing too close to a flame but can’t bear to move away.
Breathe, Will.Remember why we’re here. To benormal.
It takes every bit of willpower I have to release my hold on him and step back. The separation creates a painful void I can feel in my soul.
Especially when someone steps around Ari, their hand briefly brushing the small of his back. He hasn’t even taken his jacket off yet, but that brief but lingering touch has me breaking out in a cold sweat.
We’re guided through the venue in a small group and shown the various rooms and dim-lit intimate spaces. Our guide, a sultry voiced woman in a fitted black satin dress and matching mask, drifts through practiced explanations of the rules and the flow of the night. I can barely focus on her, my attention keeps drifting back to Ari. How close people stand to him, how easily they flirt, how naturally he seems to draw people in like moths to a flame without even realizing it.
By the time we’re invited to get more comfortable, and the jackets come off, my stomach is in knots. I’m trying to play it cool, but I must look worse than I feel, because Ari walks over to me, frowning slightly.
“Are you okay?” he whispers. “You look a little green.”
“I’m fine,” I say, unconvincingly as a wave of panic heats my face.
He studies me, worried. “We should leave if you’re not feeling well. I’ll call the car.”
Guilt slams into me. I promised I’d do better.
“No,” I say, reaching out before I think better of it. I stop myself short of actually touching him. “Don’t. I’m not sick. I just feel a little strange. It’s been a while since we…” I gesture around vaguely. “You know.”
He nods slowly, his eyes meeting mine and shining with understanding. “I know what you mean. It’s different from how it used to be, right?”
We both knew this might not work. That’s why we made the agreement. We’re here and we’re going to give it a try, if it’s too much we can leave. There’s no pressure to engage. No pressure to play.
The problem is Idowant to play.
I just don’t want to play like this.
I want to play with him. The man who has been my best friend since we were kids.
Mybrother.
I need to push through this. I can’t stand the distance between us lately, but I know we can’t gothere.There has to be a middle ground.
“Maybe we should just walk around for a bit,” I suggest. “Watch. See if anything sparks.”
Ari hums thoughtfully, then shrugs. “Sure, why not?”
Side by side but not touching, we walk through the various rooms, where scenes have already started. People are stripping themselves or each other, touching, teasing. No one is outright fucking yet, but I’m sure it won’t be long.
I don’t get the same thrill I used to. I’m starting to come to terms with Ari being the attraction that caught my attention in these rooms. Rooms where I could control his pleasure and pretend I was the one giving it to him. Rooms where I could look into his eyes and pretend the mouth on me was his.
But now that the rules have changed, it’s not the same. It’s pretty awkward, actually. Not unbearable, but notrighteither.
I can feel Ari’s attention drifting, his energy flattening instead of sharpening the way it would before.
After a while, he leans in close enough for me to hear him over the music and sound of other people's pleasure.
