Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Hunter

“You did what? ”

“I—”

“No, don’t repeat it. I fucking heard you. What the fuck were you thinking?”

As my best friend since college, James Wells has been with me through many stupid decisions. So many, in fact, that his responses can usually be predicted. If it was a silly mess up, he’ll roll his eyes fondly and say, “You idiot.” If it was a decent mistake, he’ll widen his eyes, mumble, “Shit,” and then ask how he can help. If it was a straight fuck-up, he’ll give me his disappointed dom look, say, “You idiot” a lot less fondly, and then proceed to get me drunk.

I expected the second or third.

This…isn’t even an option. He’s not following the script. What does that mean?

“I was thinking that they needed help,” I say honestly.

Or maybe not quite so honestly, which he’s totally aware of because he has an eyebrow raised at me, daring me to stick with the lie. I sigh.

“Okay, I was thinking that I want him.” I grab my glass of wine, wishing it was something much, much stronger. “And when I met Nolan, I was thinking I want him too. Want them both. Very much.”

“You goddamn idiot.”

Well…that’s at least closer to the script.

“I know.” I shrug, even though it’s nothing to shrug about. “But I think I know how to make it work.”

“Hunter,” Wells murmurs, his face entrenched in disappointment. “This boy—Nolan, yes?—he’s either going to pick you or the boyfriend. He can’t juggle the both of you, not forever. It’ll tear him apart. Where does that leave you? An asshole who broke up two men in love? Or the guy who didn’t get picked, left behind, heartbroken?”

He leans forward, eyes widening. “Or worse—Nolan can juggle you both, and you get trapped in this. Trapped in a threesome where you’re nothing but a service dom. Where they love each other and no one loves you. Where you’re just scratching an itch, a stand-in, a fucking sex doll for all intents and purposes. Maybe you stay that way for years. For fucking decades . Because you fall in love and you can’t walk away. Maybe you never find your own submissive, you never find your own happy ending, because you’re too fucking busy giving them theirs. Is that what you want?”

It takes a few breaths and a gulp of wine for me to sort my thoughts out enough to respond. “I don’t have to give them my all. I can help them once or twice a month while having my own life. There are plenty of established relationships that bring in a dom or a sub once in a while. Look at Kayla and Max. Kayla is married to a completely vanilla man, a man who met Max once before the arrangement began, then never saw him again. They’ve been doing that for eight years and they’re all perfectly happy, as far as we know.”

“They sure are. Max also has a collared submissive that he’s engaged to now. He has someone for himself while providing a service for Kayla.” He tilts his head at me, eyebrows pulling in. “Are these men asking you to be exclusive? Are you able to have your own submissive while doing this?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t discuss it.”

I don’t think I want one, so it doesn’t really matter.

“And Max doesn’t have a thing for Kayla’s husband. He barely even knows him, as you pointed out. Are you saying your feelings for Maison wouldn’t make things more complicated?”

“I don’t have feelings for him. For either of them. They just—there’s something about them, something I didn’t want to walk away from. But it’s not anything more. I barely know them.”

He raises his brow. His dom brow. I’ve seen him use it on subs for years. I’ve seen his current sub, Jax, melt completely beneath the power of it.

I finally understand why.

“I promised them I would help, Wells. You don’t understand. He needs this.”

“Them,” Wells says before tilting his head. “He.”

I shake my head. “What?”

“You promised them you’d help. He needs this. Which is it?”

“I—” I stop. Drain my drink. Pour myself some more. “Okay. I met Maison first, as I said. It was clear he was about to self-destruct if he tried taking this on himself. It would ruin him, James. He needed someone to step in. And Nolan needs someone to give him what he needs so he doesn’t have to stuff it down until he’s miserable.”

“You think Nolan would be the first person to have to pick someone they love over kink? To settle for dirty fantasies when they masturbate and vanilla sex with their partner?”

“Not if he doesn’t have to,” I growl. “If they can make it work adding a dom to their dynamic, then it’s worth a fucking shot, isn’t it? Besides, it’s not just sex for him, it’s lifestyle. You know that’s much harder to put aside for love.”

“And you have to be the dom who helps them?”

“Yes. They aren’t open to anyone else.” I think of the look on Maison’s face when I suggested it. The betrayal. The hurt. The desperate want, flickering beneath waves of confusion. “They want me.”

Wells whistles low, shaking his head. “Oh man, the way you just said that. You’re in too deep already, aren’t you?”

I can’t answer that. I swallow hard instead, looking anywhere but at him.

Wells sighs. “I just don’t want to come over in the middle of the night to find you on the floor broken into pieces again. I don’t want to ever have to see you hurting like that. It took you a week to pull yourself out of that dark headspace after shit blew up with Maison’s little brother, and now you want to roll the dice with these two?”

“Dom drop happens,” I growl, frustrated that he’d use that against me. “Don’t treat me like I can’t be a dom anymore because I fell apart after a scene. Fuck you.”

“Hey, you know me way too fucking well to think that’s what I’m saying. Fuck you , you asshole.” He reaches over, grabbing my forearm and squeezing a little too hard. “I’m trying to look out for you, Hunt. You’ll get hurt. You’ll regret this. And worse, you won’t be able to escape them, either. Travis is one of us now. Carter has become close with Jax and Carlos. If this goes south, you won’t be free of Maison and Nolan, not fully. You’ll have to face that hurt, that regret, and it’s going to fucking suck.”

There’s nothing to say to that—mostly because he’s probably right, and that scares the fuck out of me.

“You need to stop before this gets worse,” he says, his voice suddenly soft. “Right now it’s a fascination. An itch to scratch, maybe. You need to stop before it becomes something else.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. I’m pretty sure I told him about this whole thing because I knew he would pull my head out of my ass and save me from impending heartbreak.

But Maison’s eyes are so damn sad and Nolan’s need is so damn intense, and I can’t walk away from either of them, self-preservation be damned.

If it comes down to me getting hurt or letting Maison and Nolan go, I already know which I’m going to pick. Because it’s already become something else. Something more.

I’ll just have to keep my heart out of it. No falling in love. Just domination and sex. I can do that, can’t I?

“I’m a goddamn idiot,” I tell my friend, raising my eyes to meet his.

Wells sighs deeply. He knows me too well. He knows what that means. He knows I’m not going to stop.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” he agrees. Then he grabs the bottle of wine, heads into the kitchen, and switches it out for Scotch. “Let’s get you very, very drunk.”

There are moments in life when you can tell you’re making a mistake, but it’s too late to change things. Mid-haircut, when you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Deciding to run a yellow only for the light to turn red just before you pass beneath it. Taking that extra piece of pie despite how full you already are, knowing full well that your mom will whoop your ass if you waste it.

Those moments when you’ve leaned just a little too far over the edge to come back. Those moments where you just watch yourself follow through, knowing every second that it’s a mistake.

As I open the door for Nolan and Maison when they arrive for our first night together, that familiar feeling passes over me. A moment. A mistake.

And I can’t for the fucking life of me get myself to care.

“Hello,” I greet them, my eyes taking in the bag slung over Maison’s shoulder. I had given them three rules when we spoke on the phone. They need to arrive stone-cold sober, no lying will be tolerated before, during, or after the scene, and they have to spend the night. In the future, we can do just ninety minutes post-scene before they go home, but for this first time, I don’t feel comfortable with them leaving after. Maison hadn’t even put up a fight. “Was the drive okay?”

They haven’t told me where they live, but I got the impression last time that they don’t live here in town.

Nolan smiles. “It was fine, thank you.”

“Yeah.” Maison adjusts the bag on his shoulder, eyes looking everywhere but at me. “Nice that the roads were clear. Finally stopped snowing.”

“Is this your first winter here?”

They exchange a tense look before Maison answers, “It is.”

“Well, better come to terms with it now—this is nothing. Give it a few more weeks and we’ll be buried in the stuff.”

Nolan brightens. “I can’t wait!”

“Because you’re not expected to shovel,” Maison says with an eye roll that holds little weight considering how fondly he smiles at Nolan after.

“I’ll help shovel!” Nolan argues, his cheeks turning pink. “Why do you think I won’t shovel?”

“I give you and your boys five minutes before you get distracted by the snow and I’m all alone with my shovel and frozen ass.”

Nolan struggles to hold back a smile before giving into it with an eye roll of his own. “Okay, fair. But you’ll have Jake helping. Maybe Ace, if you can drag him away from the computer.”

I try hard not to catalog all the information they’re unintentionally giving me. It’s hard, though. They’re so secretive—and any internet searches I tried on them came up almost frighteningly empty. I’m a little desperate to know more about them.

Unfortunately, Maison clocks me and tenses. “Anyway, the drive was good. Where should I put my bag?”

“I’ll show you. Nolan, would you like to get us something to drink? There’s water, milk, orange juice, and green tea. I’ll take water. Maison?”

Maison frowns at me. “He’s not your slave. Get your own drink.”

“First of all,” I say, my mood shifting dramatically as I remind myself I’m not allowed to put Maison over my knee and spank his ass. They pick up on the change, likely because of my tone, or maybe the sharp look I settle on Maison. A look that has him taking a step back and swallowing hard. “The use of the word slave is a hard limit for Nolan, something I’m sure you know as I made it clear you both needed to read each other’s packets. That’s unacceptable. Don’t do it again, or you’re out. Understood?”

“I—” Maison sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Nolan before quickly dropping to the floor. “I understand. I’m— fuck , I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Apologize to Nolan, not me.”

Maison rubs at the back of his head before looking at his boyfriend again. His eyes are sad. Scared. “I’m sorry, Nol. I can’t believe I said that. I can’t—that was awful . I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nolan scoots closer to him, not stopping until he can take Maison’s hand. He gives him a shaky smile. “I know you. I know it was an accident.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises Nolan before looking at me. “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” I eye them before deciding to add, “Second of all, Nolan and my dynamic is going to be different than what yours is, Maison. If he has an issue with it, he’ll talk to me. If you have an issue with it—a real issue, not just you being cranky and defensive—then you can also talk to me. That said, you both agreed to domestic servitude on your packets. Can I trust you that you’ll actually respect the boundaries you gave me using those packets or will you need to redo them?”

A few emotions flicker over Maison’s expression before he settles somewhere between anxious and annoyed. “I’m fine with him serving you. I get that. But this isn’t a scene. It threw me off, you just ordering him around like that when it’s not really your place at the moment. We haven’t started. You’re not his dom yet.”

The words are tiny little hurts that are impossible to ignore. The worst part is how true they are.

I’m just here to fill a role. To be the dom during scenes. Nolan isn’t mine until a scene begins and he stops being mine again the moment his aftercare has been finished.

“You’re right.” I take a step away from them, putting my hands up. Wells’s voice echoes in my head. You’ll get hurt. You’ll regret this. “I apologize.”

“But I—” Nolan stops himself, looking between us as he nibbles on his bottom lip.

I want so badly to encourage him, but I’m not sure it’s my place. It doesn’t matter anyway. Maison steps in. “Go ahead, baby. Whatever you need to say.”

“I liked it,” he whispers. He closes his eyes as if he can hide from us. It’s heartbreakingly adorable. “I thought maybe—couldn’t things begin once we’re here? I just—I want to be able to let go when I step in the door, not have to be on pins and needles while I wait for someone to say action and I finally get to be a sub. Can’t I just…be a sub here? The whole time?” He shakes his head, eyes still closed. “That’s asking too much, right? That’s asking too much. Forget—”

“Can you be his dom from the moment he walks in?” Maison asks me, cutting his boyfriend off.

My heart jumps. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Maison takes a deep breath before turning to Nolan and giving him a nudge. When Nolan looks at him, he gives him a grin that even has me relaxing a little. “Go ahead, baby. You can be a sub. You can let go.”

Nolan’s blush deepens until he’s fascinatingly pink from his throat to the tips of his ears. What’s even more interesting is the way his entire being seems to soften. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” I say. “And you can start by being a good boy and getting us drinks. I’ll take water. Maison?”

With a light chuckle to acknowledge the full circle we just went in, Maison says, “I’ll take some water, too.”

“Get yourself something as well, Nolan. Bring them to the coffee table there.” I gesture toward the hall, eyes now on Maison. “Let me show you the room.”

Maison’s expression shutters for a moment before his smile is firmly back in place. “Lead the way.”

Trying not to wonder what just went through his head, I lead him down the hall to the last door on the left. “My room is upstairs, but I thought it’d be a good idea to give the two of you your own space. It’s also where we’ll do scenes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Good.” I open the door before stepping back, allowing him to walk through first. He takes the room in with surprisingly critical eyes. Of all the things I was nervous about for tonight, this damn room wasn’t one of them. “It’s all new bedding. There are a few things in the top drawer of that dresser for aftercare, in case you need anything in the middle of the night. Of course, you can always come get me if you need something, or even just want something.”

“Alright.” He eyes the ceiling. The corners, in particular. And the ceiling fan.

“ Is it alright?” I ask uncertainly.

“Hm?” He looks over at me before blinking. “Oh, yeah. This will be great. Thank you.”

I decide to let the strangeness go, knowing there must be a thousand things spinning through his mind right now, any of which could cause him to act strangely. “You can leave your bag by the door here. Then we can go check on Nolan?”

“Yeah.” He drops his bag near where I’m standing before pausing just inches from me. His blue eyes are wide and brimming with too many emotions, just like the night I met him. Just like the night at the bar when he begged for help. My heart tugs. Why can’t he want a dom too? I’d take such good care of both of them. Those eyes would be wide with excitement or pleasure or joy all the damn time, instead of this mess. “Hunter?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let me fuck this up for him. What happened earlier—if you end up kicking me out, don’t kick him out too, okay? Because I ruin things. I fuck everything up no matter how hard I try and I’m going to ruin this, I can feel it, and if I ruin it for him I won’t ever—”

“Hey, no.” I grip the side of his neck, thumb feeling the fluttering panic of his pulse. He goes still beneath my touch, his eyes softening. “Maybe I was harsh before. I take hard limits—any limits, really—very seriously. But you’re new to this. I have to remember that. As long as you’re trying, I’ll give you room, okay? I won’t let you ruin anything.”

“Promise?” he asks, his eyes wide with fear and hope. There’s so much trust in the single question. I know without a doubt that if I promise, he’ll believe me. It makes me feel dangerously powerful. Invincible, even.

These two are going to be so fucking dangerous.

“I promise, Maison.”

The breath that puffs out of him is heavy and trembling. Then he collects himself, even managing a smile. “You’re a good dom, huh?”

Let me show you. Give me one night, Maison. Just let me show you how well I can take care of you. The both of you. Let me show you what we could be.

“Yes,” I say instead, my voice tighter than I’d like. “I try very hard to be, at least.”

“Good.” Maison pushes past me, heading back to the living room, but I don’t miss his mumbled, “He deserves that.”

So do you, I can’t help but think. How can I convince you of that?

Nolan is waiting for us in the living room, shifting his weight from foot to foot where he stands beside the coffee table with three water glasses placed on it. He tenses when we enter the room before lowering his gaze to the floor. “I wasn’t sure where you’d want me…”

“Why don’t you take a seat on the couch with Maison? I’ll take the chair.”

Looking happy to have some direction, he quickly heads to the couch, taking a seat on one cushion and giving Maison a smile when he takes a seat on the other. I watch as their hands find each other without either of them looking. It makes me ache. I ignore it, just like I ignore Wells’s stupid voice coming back to haunt me yet again.

“So, I had you both read up on RACK and fill out your packets.” I pull out copies of the packets Maison had scanned and sent over to me the night before, one for Nolan and one for Maison. I’ve already written on both, making little notes or prompting myself to ask questions. I have a scene tentatively figured out for tonight, but there are two things that need to be decided before I feel confident enough to try it.

First, though, “Do either of you want to change anything?”

“No,” Nolan says easily. That doesn’t surprise me. From the way he filled out his packet—very few soft limits, even fewer hard ones, and only two known triggers—I got the feeling he has both experience and confidence in his choices. There’s also the fact that he filled his out in pen.

Maison’s, however, was filled out with pencil and showed clear marks where his eraser wasn’t strong enough to fully hide his indecision. There are also very few safe choices, most being soft limits with a fairly high amount of hard limits compared to my usual experiences.

That’s why I focus on Maison and risk being repetitive by asking, “Anything you want to change, Maison?”

The man in question eyes the packets in my hands like they might jump out and attack him. He opens his mouth, his shoulders tense, before closing it and shaking his head. It leaves a bad feeling in my gut. I make a mental note to send Nolan ahead so I can ask him again. I’m not going to start this scene without knowing what’s eating at him.

“Alright. So, we agree that I can participate in anal penetration with Nolan, just not with my cock. He can, however, have my cock in his mouth and he is willing to swallow since I shared my test results.” I eye them both. Nolan’s blushing isn’t nearly as interesting as Maison’s. I suppose blushing is far better than Maison looking angry or jealous, but I wish I knew why he was blushing like that when it has nothing to do with him . Is the big man shy when it comes to dirty talk? That could be fun…

Wait, no, not fun. He’s not yours to play with, Hunter. Bad dom. Bad. Stop it.

“We agree on that, yes?” I ask when neither of them has said anything. I wouldn’t push usually, trusting the packet, but this is one of the areas messily marked on Maison’s. He’d clearly been unsure about it, going back and forth between letting me fuck Nolan with my cock in his ass or not.

Nolan immediately looks at Maison, clearly knowing that this is an issue of Maison’s instead of his own, and I decide to push things a step further by calling Maison out. “Maison? Is that what we agree on? No penetrative anal sex using my cock?”

“Yeah,” Maison croaks. He clears his throat before finally looking at me. His eyes are wary. “I thought maybe you could do anything but that, and then—well, when you’re done, I could…maybe?”

I don’t let my face show any reaction to that. “You’d like to participate?”

“Oh—I mean, no. Not—I don’t want to participate . I don’t want to hurt him. Or control him. Or anything like that. That’s all you.” He swallows hard. “I’ll just step in after. For the—for sex. I think—well, he said…”

When he doesn’t finish after trailing off, Nolan reaches for his hand and tells me, “I told him I want him to come. I feel very…bad when I don’t make the person I’m with come. I need to know I pleased them. I know you’re the dom, not him, but in my head…I just think I need him to come, too. Is that possible?”

“Absolutely. Maison could join us for the whole thing, if he wants.” I put a hand up before Maison can protest. “I’m not asking you to hurt him or dominate him. That’s what I’m here for. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be on the bed with us instead of in a chair watching. It doesn’t mean you can’t be touching him. Kissing him. Making him feel good while I take him apart.”

“I—I can do that? I can be a part of this, without being a sub or a dom?”

“Yes, absolutely. You’ll be a tool for me, almost. His partner who is there to help me give him what he needs. I won’t touch you or give you any extreme orders. I’ll just guide you a little. And you can do anything else you want, of course. As long as it’s not against his limits or doesn’t interrupt what I’m doing.” I tilt my head, enjoying the fact that Maison’s blush is back with a vengeance. He likes this idea. He wants to be with both of us. I just have to get him to admit it. “What do you think, Maison? Would you let me tell you what to do, just a little bit?”

“Yes. I—yeah. That’s fine.” He clears his throat. “You’re just…guiding, like you said. To give Nolan what he needs.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not calling you sir.” Maison lifts his chin and glares at me. It’s a clear challenge. It’s hard to take seriously, with his hands trembling and his eyes full of fear. “I’m not your fucking sub or anything. You can’t treat me like one.”

I don’t argue with him. Whatever emotions he’s juggling, they’re his to figure out until he invites me to help. I just nod. “Okay.”

“And you can’t touch me.”

“Okay.”

“And you don’t have to call me a good boy or whatever.”

I can’t help it then—it’s just too easy. “Don’t have to? But I can , if I want?”

“I—I mean…” Maison glances at Nolan before swallowing hard and looking back at me. “Whatever. If you want to. I don’t care either way. It’s not a big deal. It won’t, like…affect me.”

Bull-fucking-shit.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

“Alright.” I force myself to pull it together. To focus. “You filled out this packet as what you’re willing to let me do to him.” I shuffle their packets before grabbing a fresh one I brought just in case. I hand it over, then hand him a pen. “Fill this out based on what you’re willing to do. I know it might not be many things, but that’s okay. I just want to know where your limits are as far as my guidance.”

Maison releases a shaky breath, his eyes scanning over the packet. I’m just about to offer to go find a pencil for him, and to maybe say we can take some time before starting our scene so he can give it a thorough look, but then he starts filling it out rather quickly. I can tell from where I’m sitting that it’s a lot of hard limits, but that’s perfectly fine. I’ll mostly have him hold Nolan, anyway. Talk to him. Maybe kiss him. In the future, once we’ve figured out our dynamic a little, I’d love to have him fuck Nolan while I play with him, but that’s definitely too much for tonight. He can step in after. I’d hate to ruin this by going too hard too fast.

As Maison finishes, I turn my attention back to Nolan. “Did you eat a good dinner?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head slowly. “From this point forward, you’ll address me as sir. Anytime you’re in my house, you will. As long as you still want to be my sub as soon as you enter?”

His eyes light up. “Yes, please, sir.”

“Good.” I smile. His whole body lights up then. I knew he was going to do well with praise, but I think I may have underestimated just how well. The realization makes my smile widen. “And you hydrated today like I told you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good.” He blushes and squirms. I let my smile turn a little dirty, knowing he’ll understand what I’m catching onto. He definitely does from the way he ducks his head and shivers. I can’t wait to call him a good boy , once he’s really earned it. It’s going to be fucking beautiful. “Do you have any questions for me?”

He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“If that changes, you’ll ask them, okay? Even if we’re mid-scene. Open communication is vital. Promise?”

“Promise, sir.”

Maison clears his throat, giving the two of us what can only be described as an awkward look before handing the packet to me. I take the time to scan it, letting them sit as I do. He’s willing to do a little more than I expected. I only pick a few things though, nearly all of them ones I already expected. I don’t want to bite off too much for our first time. The last thing I need tonight is for me to forget something from my set of three lists. It’s better to stay close to the scene I already outlined for us from their first two packets—as well as my own limits, of course—and broaden things with this new packet starting next time.

“This is good,” I tell Maison, making eye contact with him. “Very good, Maison.”

Just like his boyfriend, Maison flushes and squirms, his gaze dropping away from me. I let myself smirk since neither of them is paying me attention at the moment. Not affected my ass.

“Nolan, I wanted to ask, if you could have only one thing from me tonight, something you’ve really needed, what would it be?”

I can tell it’s a hard question. Maybe impossible, even. The way his face twists up like the question is cruel somehow tugs at my heart. I make myself stay quiet though. I make him decide.

“I want to hurt, sir,” he finally whispers, flinching at his own words.

Maison flinches at the exact same time.

Ah. I see.

“Maison, you can handle that?” I ask, even though his packets already said so. “Watching me hurt him?”

Maison clenches his hands but nods.

I make a mental note to keep an eye on him. That’s my job, after all. Whether he wants to admit to it or not, he’s under my care when we’re all together.

“Alright, then. How are you feeling? Are you ready?”

When they both just blink at me, seeming stunned that it’s already time to start, I gently prompt the chattier of the two. “Nolan?”

Nolan peers at me through his lashes. “Good. Um—nervous, but excited. I just—I don’t want to disappoint you, sir.”

“If you follow my instructions and let go for me, then disappointing me is impossible. I’m a very clear dom. I’ll never set you up for failure or play games. If you stray off-course unintentionally, I’ll always guide you back to where I want you. And I will always— always —” I emphasize, waiting until he lifts his chin a little more and looks me in the eyes before continuing, “—be proud of you for trying. That’s all I ask, is that you try. That you give me your best. You do that, and you can’t possibly let me down.”

Relief blooms on his face, his shoulders softening. “Okay, sir.”

“Good. Traffic light system still okay for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me them.”

“Green is good and keep going. Yellow is that I’m nervous or need to talk about something and we need to pause or need to slow down. Red is everything stops.”

“Very good.” I tilt my head, openly taking him in. He’s so fucking beautiful. Maison is a lucky bastard. Hell, I’m a lucky bastard, regardless of the limitations placed on me. I let my appreciative gaze linger on him for just long enough to be uncomfortable. That’s what gets him squirming and blushing again. When he releases a breath, it’s shuddery. Perfect . “You have two rules tonight—you’ll continue to call me sir and you will not come until you’re given permission. Understood?”

He sways, almost like my words have knocked the wind out of him. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. The room is down the hall. It’s the only one with a door open. There’s an attached bathroom. You may use it if you need to. Then strip to your underwear and kneel on the cushion that’s placed at the foot of the bed. Use whatever position you like best, I’m not picky. I saw that you put eye contact limitations as a hard limit, so feel free to look at me as often as you’d like. We’ll be in shortly, but feel free to shout or to come back out for us if you need to safeword.”

He jumps—literally jumps—to his feet, visibly vibrating with excitement. “Yes, sir.”

His excitement wavers though when he steps past Maison. He pauses, his hands nervously twitching at his sides. He gives me a nervous glance like a kid about to sneak into the cookie jar before looking at his boyfriend. “You’re okay?”

Maison gives him an easy smile, but there’s something in his eyes that gives away just how uneasy he really feels. “Of course, baby. I’ll be in with him soon. Go on.”

“Okay.” He glances at me once more before giving Maison a quick kiss on the lips and running off.

He stops before he exits the room, his body tensing.

“Nolan?” Maison asks, half-standing from the couch like he’s about to run to him.

Nolan turns back to look at us, eyes wide, arms winding around his stomach. He gives Maison a look that can only be described as fucking anguished before dropping his eyes to the floor and mumbling, “There’ll be scars.”

What?

I glance at Maison, finding matching anguish on his face now. He deflates back against the couch and turns his gaze to me. It feels pointed. Almost like he’s passing the issue over to me. Well, fuck.

Okay, then.

“Scars?” I ask in what I hope is a light enough tone.

“On me. On my—I have scars.” He shifts on his feet before peering up at me. “I—will they bother you? I can keep my shirt on if—”

“No,” I say immediately. “Fuck no. Hey, no, Nolan.” I stand now, taking a step toward him before doubting if it’s my place to comfort him. Is this a dom thing? A boyfriend thing ? Fuck, this is going to be messy. I’m just going to have to follow my gut in these situations until one of them puts me in my place. “Nolan, I am going to love every inch of your body, as long as it’s submitting to me. Do you understand?”

His shoulders soften, a shuddering breath falling from his lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Is it alright if I touch them? Kiss them?” I ask, since scars weren’t mentioned in his packet at all.

“Y-yeah. That’s fine.”

“Is there anything about them you want me to know?”

He glances at Maison, the two of them exchanging a look I can’t interpret. Then he shakes his head. “No, sir. I just didn’t want you to be surprised or—or anything.”

“Thank you, Nolan.” I tilt my head toward the hall, deciding it’d be best if I don’t linger on the topic. I don’t want him to feel like I’m treating him differently than I was before knowing about them. “Go on, now. Kneel for me. We’ll be right there.”

His lips curl into a small smile. “Yes, sir.”

I let him disappear down the hall before sitting and turning my attention back to Maison. The slight worry and discomfort the conversation had brought on doubles at the look Maison has fixed on me.

The man looking at me now is the same man who pulled a gun on me the night we first met. There’s enough anger and violence in the cold look to have my stomach dropping. I don’t let it show on my face, though, just like that first night. My voice is perfectly calm when I ask, “Do you need something, Maison?”

“I’m trusting you here.” His voice is as cold as the look in his eyes. Dark. Distant. “You have no idea how big that is. No fucking idea. If you hurt him in the bad way, in a way he doesn’t want, I’ll fucking end you, alright? I’ll end you so well, there won’t be a trace of you left. I’ll end you to the point where people will doubt you ever fucking existed. Do you understand?”

I want to ask him where he hides this side of himself. I want to ask him if it’s even a genuine side of him or a carefully constructed act. I want to ask him what experience he has that makes it so he can do what he’s threatening to do—because I have absolutely no doubt he can.

There’s a chance those questions will lead to me getting punched, though. Or, at the very least, him leaving with Nolan in tow. I settle for placating him instead. “He’s in good hands, Maison. I promise.” I take a breath, then take a chance. “You both are.”

His jaw ticks. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes.” I sigh. “I understand.”

He looks away, his hands flexing against his thighs. I watch him struggle to control his face. To control his breathing. He ends up squeezing his eyes shut, the right side of his jaw clenching. I give him a few seconds to flounder before saying, very softly, “I’ve got this, Maison. You can stop worrying. You can let go, just like him.”

He breathes out slowly, the exhale shaky, before he meets my eyes again. He’s soft now. Open and vulnerable and terrified. There’s not a trace of the man who threatened my life just a minute ago. My heart hurts a little, seeing how easily he switches back and forth. That’s quite the emotional whirlwind he seems to be an expert at navigating.

“You’ve got this,” he rasps.

“I’ve got this,” I confirm.

He nods. Then nods again. “Okay.”

“What are the safewords, Maison?”

His eyebrows pull together. “Uh—green is good, yellow is pause or slow down and talk things through, and red is everything stops right away.”

“Those are your safewords, too. You know that, right? Not just his. Not just mine. You can use them, too.”

“I won’t, though. I won’t ruin this for him.”

“So, you’ll…what?” I ask, letting just how unimpressed I feel about that seep into my tone. “You’ll just not safeword and risk ruining everything instead? Because if you don’t safeword and things go sideways, I won’t trust you to be in a scene with us again. If you don’t safeword and your head gets fucked up because of it, you won’t be able to handle trying again. If you don’t safeword, you could ruin everything, Maison. And I promised you that I wouldn’t let you ruin this, didn’t I?”

He nods slowly, his shoulders relaxing. “You did.”

“Then trust me. I won’t let you ruin this. Safeword, if you need to. We can try this again and again and again until we figure it out. Until we find our limits. Until we get the dynamic down. But once the trust is gone? That’s it, Maison. Because all of this is built on trust. Trust and communication.” I stand, striding toward him until I’m settled nearly toe to toe. He has to arch back to look up at me. I probably like that too much. “Trust me, Maison. Please?”

He swallows hard enough for me to hear it. “Okay.”

Something loosens in my chest. “Okay.”

“You’re not my dom, though,” he hurries to add. His eyes are wide. Afraid again.

I fight the urge to smirk, knowing this is fragile. “I’m the dom of the scene. If you want to be a part of it, you’ll listen, understood?”

He licks his lips, his eyes going dark and heavy. There’s something there, for just a moment. A flicker. A spark neither of us are ready to acknowledge.

“Understood?” I press.

“Yes, sir.”

It’s meant to be sarcastic, I think. It doesn’t sound that way, though. It sounds soft and a little breathy and goddamn beautiful .

“Then let’s go.”

I offer him my hand. He stares at it for a moment before taking it and letting me help him stand. Before I can decide if I should drop it or try to use it to guide him to Nolan, he tugs it out of my hold and steps back. His eyes are shifty again, his shoulders full of the tension from before. “One more thing.”

So close.

“Okay.”

“Is it too late to add a hard limit?”

I can’t help the slight jump in my eyebrows this time, but I keep anything else from showing my surprise. “It’s never too late.”

“Don’t kiss him.” He meets my eyes again. The emotional turmoil from the pub is back. “Please don’t kiss him on the mouth.”

Take what you can get, I tell myself.

Wells’s voice is unfortunately louder than my own. You’ll get hurt. You’ll regret this.

I force a smile. “No kissing. No problem.”