I stepped around Ellen when she refused to move and hung my coat in the coat closet. If there was someone out there I was going to click with, it definitely wasn’t the cute guy from my Economics class. I couldn’t actually say what it was that hadn’t worked between us, but I hadn’t been all that upset when he’d ended the night by telling me I was “a little too intense” for him.
He was probably right, but I didn’t really know how to be anything else.
During previous dating fails, I’d also heard “overbearing” and “too focused” and been accused of being twenty-one going on forty-one… none of which turned out to be what most guys my age were looking for, but all of which were probably fair, since I’d spent my too-serious, slightly geeky high school years practically raising my two younger sisters instead of having anything like a social life.
Not only did I have no game, but I was also used to stepping in and taking charge, and sometimes—okay, most of the time—I had a little trouble turning those instincts off… which didn’t always go over well, based on how tonight’s date had reacted when I’d ordered dinner for him.
I sighed, then lined my shoes up on the shoe rack and slipped my phone out of my pocket to check the message that had come in. It was my youngest sister, Lizzie, sixteen now and far too invested in my non-existent love life, in my opinion.
Lizzard: How did the date go???
I grinned at the excessive use of punctuation, then sent back a thumbs down.
My phone immediately rang.
“Seriously?” Lizzie said the minute I answered. “What was wrong with him?”
I laughed. “I’m pretty sure it was me, Lizzard.”
“No way,” she said, insanely loyal, as always. “If Mom could find someone, you can, too.”
“No rush,” I said, tossing my keys into the little bowl I kept by the door for that purpose. “I don’t want ‘someone,’ I want the right one.”
“Wellllllllll,” she said, drawing the word out and sounding a little too gleeful for comfort. “Maybe I can help with that.”
I snorted, shaking my head even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t think so.”
I may not have had the most successful dating history, but I was pretty sure that following advice from a teenager wasn’t the answer.
Both Lizzie and Kate, our other sister, had gotten it in their heads that they owed it to me to help me have some fun since I’d missed out on so much when I’d been their age, but they were wrong. That wasn’t a debt, it was just family.
Our dad walked out on us just as I’d been starting middle school, and since Mom had gone from a pampered trophy wife to taking on three minimum-wage jobs just to keep food on the table, I’d been the one who had to step in and take care of my sisters, the house, and basically everything else.
When Mom had finally remarried a couple of years ago—to William, a man who’d restored my faith in the institution of fatherhood when he’d stepped up and then some to take care of her and the girls—Lizzie and Kate had both become obsessed with the idea that I’d finally have a chance for the “real college experience”... which, according to them, meant going to parties, loosening up, and getting laid.
The last activity was one I categorically refused to discuss with my sisters, and the first two… well, it just wasn’t me. Not that I couldn’t see how some people might want to go a little crazy with that kind of thing after being freed from all the responsibilities I’d been stuck with at such at a young age, but I was the opposite. For one thing, I had academic standards to keep up if I was going to keep all my scholarships, and no way was I willing to lose those since I was and always would be more interested in building the kind of stable life that we’d lost when my dad had left us—building it on a firm enough foundation that no one could ever rip it away from me again—than I was in partying on campus or going out to clubs to look for casual sex. And for another, I guess I was secretly a bit of a sap. I wanted to find my forever-guy… which was another thing that didn’t seem very compatible with what everyone else was looking for during their college years.
“...I’m sending you the pic right now,” Lizzie said.
I’d missed something.
“What?” I asked just as the phone vibrated against my ear with an incoming text.
“I know it’s him, right?” Lizzie said, sounding excited. “Even if he calls himself ‘Jay’ in the videos?”
“What?” I said again, totally confused now.
“Andy, just look,” Lizzie said, making me laugh because I could actually hear the eye roll in her voice.
When she'd been younger, I would have been on her not to sass me like that, but once William had stepped into my family’s lives and I’d left for college—scoring a small, lease-to-own house with William’s support, since it didn’t make any sense to me to waste money on dorm fees when I could put my housing costs toward an investment for my future—I’d finally been able to get back to something more like a regular brother-sister relationship with the girls instead of having to be their disciplinarian, father-figure, and everything else.
It was nice.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and put the call on speaker, then re-opened my text thread with her to look at whatever it was she was on me about.
“What did you send…” I started to ask, right before all the spit dried up in my mouth.
“Is it?” Lizzie asked excitedly. “Isn’t that him?’
If she meant, had she just sent me a picture of my high school crush, Jordan Wendt, the boy who’d almost made my dick fall off from overuse back when I was fifteen, then the answer was yes… and for the record, my dick was not holding any grudges about how sore Jordan had made it back then.
Not that Jordan had participated in that problem, of course. He hadn’t had a clue about how often I’d jerked off fantasizing about him back then. He’d been a senior when I was a freshman, the co-captain of our school’s cheer squad, and completely oblivious to my existence. Still, there was no denying that all the chafing I’d suffered had definitely been his fault.
Also his fault? Making that the year I’d come to terms with the fact that yes, I was definitely a six on the Kinsey scale.
Jerking off to fantasies of a hot cheerleader—a male one with a pretty face, an amazing ass, and muscles for days—had been my one guilty pleasure amidst all the responsibilities I'd had at home, and, as my perpetually-chafed-at-the-time dick could attest to, I’d indulged frequently.
Lizzie said something that sounded like nothing more than buzzing background noise, because… just… wow. Jordan starred in every single one of my most secret fantasies, and while yes, he still looked like pure sex on a stick, my heart tripped a little at the sight of him because my fantasies hadn’t just included jerking off to him. I’d also always imagined that we… clicked. That he was The One. That we had a connection.
Or that we would have, at least, if I’d ever had the nerve to talk to him.
Or been even remotely in his league.
Or had a single, solitary clue about what I could actually offer someone as beautiful as him.
I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly pounding so loudly that it completely drowned out my sister’s voice. The picture she’d sent looked like a screen capture, and Jordan was caught mid-hip-thrust in what looked like some kind of dance routine, full lips smirking and dark hair tousled and sweaty even though his face was, as always, perfectly made up and… and just… damn.
It hadn’t all been romantic fantasies back in the day. There had definitely been some dirty ones, too. A lot of dirty ones. Dirty ones that my cock still remembered vividly, as evidenced by the way it immediately started to press against the zipper of my pants, eager to come out and play... which, for the record, wasn’t exactly a comfortable feeling with my little sister still chattering away in my ear.
“What, uh, where did you, um, what’s this picture… from?” I finally managed to ask, stumbling over my words like I was right back to being that bumbling fifteen-year-old again as I tried and failed to tear my eyes away from Jordan’s smirk.
“It is him, isn’t it?” Lizzie asked gleefully. “I knew it! The guy you used to pant after back in high school? Jordan Whatsisname?”
“Wendt,” I said. “Jordan Wendt. And I didn’t pant after him.”
Oh God, had she actually realized that at the time? She’d been what, ten? And I thought I’d been so discreet.
“Oh please,” she said, no doubt rolling her eyes again. “You used to drag me and Kate to all those basketball games, and you don’t even like sports.”
“We were on a budget,” I said, staring so hard at Jordan’s ridiculous hotness that my eyes started to dry out. “It was free entertainment.”
I blinked and finally looked away for my own sanity. Then looked right back, because he was… Jesus. He was even more beautiful now then he’d been back then.
Then I frowned.
“Lizzard,” I said urgently. “Where did you get this picture?”
“I took a screenie from his YouTube channel,” she said, which really didn’t clear anything up at all, but at least sounded like she hadn’t done something unethical, like track him down on social media and steal private photos without his consent. “Kate found it,” she went on. “He does workout vids and stuff? Anyway, she was like, ‘omigod he’s so hot,’ and I was like, ‘omigod it’s Andy’s crush!’ And I’m right, right? It’s him?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s definitely Jordan. Um, Liz—”
Her laughter cut me off. “I know, I know, now you want me to get off the phone so you can go drool over him online, right? But Andy, I think it’s a sign! He moved to the same city as you! And he’s single, you’re single…”
I snorted, then almost tripped over Ellen as she wound around my feet, reminding me that it was my sacred duty in life to feed her and cater to her every whim. “Lizzie, that’s definitely not going to happen.”
“Why not?” she asked, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question instead of insanity. “Here,” she added before I could answer. “I’m sending you the link to his channel.”
My phone buzzed again, and like a drug addict needing a fix, I clicked as soon as it came through, my eyes widening and my cock swelling even more when my screen filled with thumbnails of my every living fantasy.
I hadn’t seen Jordan in years—and hadn’t jerked off while thinking of him in… well, at least a few weeks—but it would have been embarrassing how often I still thought about him if anyone had actually known about it. But even if my sisters had apparently seen through me back when I’d been a teenager, that was definitely something I’d never admit to.
“He films a lot of his workouts outdoors, and I recognize some of the settings from when we came out to visit you over the summer,” Lizzie said in my ear as I clicked on one of the videos. “He did one at that big fountain you took us to downtown, and another one at, what was it called? Bushbright Park? Bushhead? Bush—”
“Bushnell,” I cut in. “But—”
“But nothing,” she interrupted. “You should track him down and ask him out!”
I laughed, but then I swallowed hard as the video I’d clicked started playing. Jordan had definitely kept himself in shape. He looked even hotter than he’d been back when he’d fueled all my teenage fantasies. Honestly, as good as he’d looked then, that shouldn’t have been possible, but… yeahhhhhh. He’d managed it.
I reached down and adjusted myself.
“Lizzard, I really need to go,” I said, staring at that perfectly round, muscular ass of his, the one that had used to mesmerize me during all his cheer routines.
It was even rounder now.
You could bounce a quarter off it.
Build altars to it.
Compose hymns about it.
It was… it was… Jesus.
“It will be just like Mom and William,” Lizzie said excitedly, which finally got me to stop staring at Jordan’s ass.
I paused the video and brought the phone back up to my ear. “What are you talking about?” I asked, since I definitely hadn’t followed that non sequitur. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s great, dork,” Lizzie said. “Going a little crazy getting ready for Christmas, of course—”
I’d definitely inherited that trait, and already had my entire house decorated even though I’d be driving home after finals to spend the holiday with my family.
“—but I’m just saying, she knew William for all those years before they got together—” He’d been a business associate of our dad’s. “—and then when she ran into him again it was love at first sight and she finally got her happily ever after! That could be just like you and Jordan!”
I grinned, rolling my own eyes since she couldn’t see me and call me on it, and finally gave in to Ellen’s annoyed meowing and headed into the kitchen to fill her bowl.
“That wasn’t love at first sight, Lizzard. That’s not even a real thing.”
She made a rude sound. “So you’re saying the first time you saw Jordan, you weren’t totally gone for him? Because you definitely weren’t as subtle as you seemed to think.”
“That was different.” I said.
That had been lust at first sight, and I was definitely a believer in that one.
Of course, back when I’d been fifteen, naive-and-hopeful me, the me who hadn’t been burned yet by the realities of trying to date guys who were always looking for someone a little more focused on fun and a little less excited by stability and structure than I was, might have called the lust I’d felt for Jordan by another name, but that hadn’t been real. It couldn’t have been, because I hadn’t actually known him. And sure, I’d convinced myself that I did at the time, but constantly watching him—okay, possibly stalking him—throughout my entire freshman year didn’t count.
Still, while I hadn’t actually known him, there was no doubt that I’d known a lot about him. Like the fact that he’d always tugged his left earlobe when he was nervous, even though he never let it show on his face; and the slightly superstitious way he’d always double-tapped the gym door right underneath our school mascot whenever he walked in with the cheer squad for a pep rally; and the way he avoided all dairy products.
Lactose intolerance?
Personal preference?
A weight management thing?
I’d never figured that part out, but what I had figured out was that even though he was always surrounded by people, he only seemed genuinely comfortable with his co-captain on the cheer-squad and best friend, Nichol Fetterline; he sucked at academics but somehow always skated by on charm; no one came to his graduation ceremony with him; and despite being popular and gorgeous and out and proud, sometimes I'd had the impression that he was just the tiniest bit insecure, too.
Unless, of course, I’d just been fooling myself. Convinced that there was a vulnerability under that picture-perfect surface that only I could see... and that, of course, only I would be the perfect answer for. The one he could open up to. The one he could count on. The one he was meant for…
I snorted, shaking my head at my ridiculous fantasies.
“What?” Lizzie asked. “Was that a ‘yes’ I heard?”
“It was a nothing, Lizzard,” I lied. “Trust me, you need to give this one up.”
Although if I was honest, everything I’d once convinced my starry-eyed teenage self I’d felt for Jordan was exactly what I kept looking for and not finding when I asked guys out now... and that really was ridiculous, given that it had only ever existed in my own head in the first place.
Still, as soon as I finished feeding Ellen and finally got Lizzie off the phone, I couldn’t resist restarting the video I’d paused. I hadn’t seen Jordan since he’d graduated, and watching him hop around and shake his ass on the small screen made me feel like I’d been stuck in the desert for all those years, but now had finally found water.
Cold, clear, sparkling, mouthwatering water.
I palmed myself, no more able to control my cock’s reaction to him then I would have been able to stop myself from grabbing that metaphorical water and guzzling it until I choked on it.
On screen, Jordan was just finishing the workout he’d been doing, and I couldn’t look away as he mopped his face and smirked at the camera, rattling off a bunch of well-rehearsed-sounding patter asking me to click, like, comment, and subscribe to something.
God, he was beautiful, and the way those bottomless dark eyes held mine as he signed off… maybe it was a sign.
“Oh God, I really am a dork,” I told Ellen.
She ignored me, face buried in her food dish and tail flicking in irritation at the interruption. But still, how could I ever say no when Jordan asked me for something?
And fine, he hadn't really asked “me,” and I certainly didn’t expect anything more to come of having him in my life, so to speak, this time around than it had back when we’d been in high school. He was still a little too beautiful to seem real and totally out of reach, even if we had both ended up living in the same city, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to… what was it he’d asked me to do? Click, like, and subscribe?
After all, one of my most frequently recurring fantasies, one that popped up even more often than visions of that gravity-defying ass of his, had always been that Jordan would ask me for something, and I’d give it to him. That he’d realize I was exactly what he needed, that I could take care of him better than anyone else ever could, and then—before he even knew what had hit him—I’d have swept him right off his feet and straight into our own picture-perfect happily ever after.
And okay, maybe subscribing to his video channel in response to a totally generic and universal “ask” wasn’t exactly the same thing—and following people on the internet definitely wasn’t my usual style—but for Jordan? I mean, come on. With the chance to fulfill even a tiny fraction of one of my lifelong Jordan-Wendt fantasies at hand, how could I possibly resist?
I didn’t have time to reply to Rett’s text, as my date came back to the table. I made sure my cell phone was still on silent and slipped it back into my pocket. I’d ‘met’ James via Cuffd, a hook-up app specifically for people looking for kinky dates. I had used the app a few times since I’d arrived in the States with Rett, my best friend. We were on the last leg of our round-the-world trip. Most of my hook-ups had been fun. After working in diners for a crap wage and small tips, I needed a way to let off steam and relax.
I definitely had a type, which James seemed to fit. He was a good twenty years older than me, greying at the temples, but he looked fit enough to keep up with a younger man. I hoped that when we got back to his place, he’d prove to have a firm hand and be willing to do all manner of kinky things to me. We couldn’t go back to the apartment Rett and I were renting. Sure, my best friend would have made himself scarce or hid out in his room with his headphones on, but it wouldn’t have been fair to him.
We’d only just ordered when James had gone to the toilet, so we hadn’t really got a chance to talk much, just generic chit-chat as we’d perused the menus. We were in a burger joint in the East Village, which James had suggested when we’d arranged to meet. What I hadn’t realised was that it only sold vegetarian and vegan food. I’d never had a veggie burger before, so I was intrigued. I hoped I’d get to make up for the lack of meat at dinner by having James’s cock in my mouth later.
“What do you do?” I asked once he’d taken his seat again.
“I’m a magazine editor,” James replied.
He poured himself a glass of water and then put the complimentary bottle back on the table. I had expected him to at least ask if I’d wanted some too. I leant towards Daddy Doms because, while I liked a good spanking and a Dom who called the shots. I also enjoyed being taken care of. Aftercare cuddles were the best. Not being offered water was a small thing, but it bothered me. I tried to ignore it as I picked up the bottle and poured my own water. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t a caring guy; we could still have fun. It wasn’t like I was looking for someone to settle down with. After Christmas, Rett and I would be heading north to Boston for a few days before going up to Portland. We still had plenty to see before Rett’s travel visa ran out at the end of January.
“A magazine editor? That sounds fun. Which one?”
“Poke.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Raunchy.” I’d jacked off staring at the hot male models in Poke plenty of times over the last few months. “Do you get to choose the photos that go in?”
James smiled. “I have the final say, yes.” He looked me up and down as though he was considering me for a photo shoot.
If I was, I’d be flattered, but what I really wanted was to be on the other side of the camera. It was a silly fantasy, but I wanted to be a fashion photographer someday.
He took a sip of his water. “We should probably talk about what we both want out of tonight.”
“I thought we were getting to know each other first?”
He picked up a napkin and started messing with it, folding and unfolding it. “This is a one-off, right?”
I nodded. “I guess so.”
I’d sort of hoped I could find a Dom who’d want to meet up a few times before I left New York, but whatever.
“Then all that really matters is what we want to do in the bedroom.”
I guessed that was fair enough, but the guys I hooked up with normally asked me a few cursory questions.
James smiled as a waitress brought our burgers to the table. James had also ordered some tofu-cabbage wraps. “If we’re going to have sex, you probably don’t want to eat too much.”
I stared at him.
“I like my subs to be clean.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve douched,” I whispered.
“Even so.”
I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry, even though the burger smelt better than I’d expected. My stomach grumbled, but I tried to ignore it. What I didn’t get was why he’d suggested we go to a restaurant if he was going to make me feel bad about eating. Was it a control thing?
“I like spanking my subs,” he told me before picking up his burger and taking a huge bite out of it. “While they’re tied up,” he added around the mouthful of food. “Do you wear gags?”
“Sometimes. Not normally on a first date.” I needed to be able to trust a Dom before I let them take away my ability to speak.
“You will for me.”
I narrowed my eyes and then tried to force a smile to my lips.
“Do you enjoy breath play?” James asked.
“Not on a first date,” I said firmly. The gag was negotiable; breath play was not. How hot it was definitely depended on whose hand was around my throat. If I didn’t know them or didn’t trust them, it was terrifying rather than sexy, so my rule now was to only engage in breath play with a Dom I was familiar with.
James lifted his chin. “I love it.”
Good for him. The hungry grumbling of my stomach had been replaced by alarm bells ringing in there. James might have looked hot as hell, but everything about him felt wrong.
“I’m not sure I want to play with a sub who doesn’t.”
My eyes went wide. Was he trying to guilt me into doing things I wasn’t comfortable with? Oh, hell no.
“I don’t think this is going to work out,” I said, standing.
“Sit.”
I did because he barked it out as an order, and hell, I was a submissive. Following orders was the one thing I was good at; most of the time.
“You contacted me,” he pointed out. “And now you want to dump me?”
The guy had problems.
“I’m not going to let you stop me breathing,” I said in a harsh whisper. “So if that’s a deal-breaker for you, then we may as well break this party up right now.”
He stared at me, his dark eyes cold and unreadable, and I knew it was time for me to use my backbone and walk away.
“I’m going,” I said in a firm tone. “Enjoy your burger.”
“Sit.”
I didn’t. I walked out the door, even though I was trembling. I yanked my cell phone out of my pocket and speed-dialled Rett.
“It was horrible,” I said as soon as he answered.
“What happened?” Rett’s English accent was so comforting, like a snuggly blanket.
I looked over my shoulder. James wasn’t following me. He was probably eating his burger. I hoped he choked on it.
“He guilted me into not eating and then tried to convince me to let him choke me on a first date.” I burst into tears halfway through my reply, probably garbling my words.
“He did what? Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
“You don’t need to.”
“You’re upset. Is there somewhere safe nearby?”
The East Village was full of restaurants, bars, and music venues, so I didn’t have to walk far to find somewhere with plenty of people where I could wait for Rett.
“Yes, but you really don’t have to come get me. I’m capable of taking the subway home, you know.”
My mouth might have been saying one thing, but my body was in agreement with Rett. I ducked into a busy bar, reading the name on the sign to Rett as I went in. I ordered myself a gin and tonic and found a table to sit at.
“I’ll be there soon. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t.” I was shaking too much to actually want to navigate my way home. Thank God for Rett.
He arrived about half an hour later, by which time I’d had two drinks.
“You were fast.”
“I got a cab.” He slid into the seat opposite me, dark blue eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Just a bit shaky. The guy was a total jerk.”
“He sounds like one.”
I forced a smile. “You know me. I’m open to pretty much anything.”
“Once you trust someone.”
I nodded. “Exactly. I’m not going to let a stranger strangle me.”
“I’m glad. Do you want to go home?”
“Please.”
As we walked out the door, I threaded my fingers through Rett’s for comfort. He squeezed my hand and held it all the way to the subway. On the train, I sat with my head resting on his shoulder. I’d stopped shaking, but the short time I’d spent with James had still left a bad taste in my mouth.
“He wasn’t a good Dom,” I declared once we were back in our flat.
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
“And no one else I’ve met via Cuffd has been that awful.”
“That’s true.”
“So it’s not going to put me off using the app.”
Rett laughed. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Myself.”
“Thought so.” He gave me a hug. “I’m sorry you ended up with a jerk tonight. The next guy will be better.”
“I hope so.” I caught hold of Rett’s hips as he tried to step away, pulling him close again. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“You know I’m always there for you.”
He was, and I loved him for it. The trouble was, we loved each other too much.
We stared into each other’s eyes, slowly leaning into each other until our lips met in a slow kiss.
“Take me to bed?” I asked.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“My cock begs to differ.” Kissing Rett had made me hard. I tugged him closer so our groins were touching. “So does yours.”
“Zeke…”
Whatever objection Rett was going to voice got smothered by the kiss he initiated. Our hands were all over each other as I walked him towards my bedroom. We both knew things would turn out badly because we’d engaged in this particular dance a lot. I loved him, and I knew he loved me, so each time we ended up in a bedroom together, I hoped things would turn out differently. I was sure he felt the same, which was why he’d kissed me rather than finishing his sentence.
We fell onto the bed and started pulling each other’s clothes off. We were naked in seconds, and oh, God, he was gorgeous.
My beautiful English boy was slightly shorter than me and a fair bit slimmer. He had a real baby face, so had recently taken to sporting a three-day-old stubble look. We both had dark brown hair, but his had blond highlights at the front, whereas mine tended more towards auburn. More than once on our trip we’d been mistaken for brothers, but I’d never seen the likeness. We weren’t brothers, just a pair of army brats who had grown up on bases together.
Cuddled up close, we grasped each other’s cocks and started to beat each other off. I should have been content with that, but I never was. I waited until we were both panting and close to release before whispering hotly into his ear.
“Fuck me, Rett, please.”
He tensed right up, and his hand stilled on my cock. I thought he was going to refuse, and maybe it would have been better if he had. He nodded and rolled over so he could retrieve a condom and lube. I got up onto all fours, presenting my ass to him. I wanted him to do more than fuck me. I’d been looking forward to being spanked by a Dom that night, and the desire was still there inside me, like a seed that desperately needed watering. I kept it inside while he fingered my asshole, enjoying the way he played with me to warm me up. I stroked my cock while he did, hoping he was stroking his own to keep it hard.
“That’s so good, Rett. Fuck me?”
There was a pause, and I knew he was gloving up. Then his hands stroked over my ass, and I couldn’t keep my desires in any longer.
“Spank me, Rett. Spank me until my ass is red and hot.”
His hand stilled.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be spanked. Just fuck me.”
“Yes, you do.” His whispered words were shaky and cracked.
His hand lifted off my ass, and for a moment, I thought he was actually going to strike me, but he didn’t.
“I just can’t, Zeke. I’m sorry.”
I twisted around so I could hug him. “I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You deserve someone who can give you what you need.” Rett sighed. “I’m sorry. Is it weird that I like being spanked too but can’t deal it out?”
I shook my head. “I’m the same. We’re just a pair of hopeless subs.”
Rett choked out a laugh. “We are, aren’t we?”
He took the condom off, and we cuddled on the bed. I didn’t know about him, but I was developing a serious case of blue balls. I needed a release. While I still wanted to get that release from a spanking and a good fucking, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Rett didn’t enjoy topping—neither of us did—but that didn’t stop him from trying whenever I asked him. It was hard to get off when you knew the guy fucking you was into you but not into what you were doing together. You’d have thought I’d have learnt not to ask, but I just kept thinking that if we tried hard enough, often enough, we’d find a way to meet each other’s needs. More and more I realised that it wasn’t enough to love each other.
I started to stroke his cock again, and he followed my lead. We both needed a little coaxing to get fully back into the mood, but once we did, we both tipped over the edge rapidly. We coated each other’s hands in our cum, but instead of going right back to cuddling, we got up and cleaned ourselves off. That was the trouble. Once things had gone wrong in the bedroom department, all we could really do was finish each other off in a businesslike fashion. I hated it and needed it at the same time.
“I’ve been thinking,” Rett said as we flopped down onto the tatty oversized couch.
“Sounds dangerous.”
He let out a heavy sigh, which made me realise I needed to shut up and listen rather than try to lighten the air.
“This isn’t working, Zeke.”
I blinked at him, sitting upright, my back straight as a pole.
“I hate it when you go out with other guys, but we can’t make it work either.”
We’d discussed having an open relationship so we could get our physical needs met elsewhere while still coming home to each other. But he was right. It wasn’t working. I was jealous as anything every time he had a date or hooked up with someone at a club. Even when it was me doing the dating—which was the more regular occurrence—I felt a touch of guilt, like I was cheating on him, even though I had his permission.
“I’m going to go home,” Rett went on. “After the New Year.”
“You’re… What?”
We’d had more plans. There was still more of the East Coast to see. My dad had been sent back to a base in the US, so I didn’t have a home to go to in the UK. A silly part of me had hoped Rett and I would have figured things out by the time our trip ended, and we’d make a home somewhere together. It seemed like that dream was about to go up in smoke.
“I’ve booked my plane ticket.” He turned to me, his eyes wide and earnest. “I just can’t keep doing this, Zeke. I can’t keep pretending we can make things between us work. I love you, but being together is breaking both our hearts.”
He wasn’t wrong, and sooner or later, I’d have come to the same conclusion. I was almost grateful to him for being the one to call it quits because it meant I didn’t have to make him cry.
He leant across to me and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll always love you, Zeke, but we’re not meant to be together.”
There was nothing I could say to that because he was right. We were both subs. Neither of us was even close to being versatile. Neither of us would have been happy without sex and kinky play. Sex wasn’t the be-all and end-all of a relationship, but it was a significant part.
Rett kissed me on the cheek. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Maybe I should have put up more of a fight, but we’d been putting off the inevitable for months. So I let him go. Okay, it was only into his bedroom, but he might as well have been packing his bags and leaving for the airport that night.
When his door had clicked shut, I grabbed a cushion and buried my face into it so I could cry without him hearing. New Years was a little over a week away, and then Rett really would be flying away, and I’d have no reason to follow him. I couldn’t wave a magic wand and make us compatible, no matter how much I loved him. Having an open relationship so we never needed to end up in the bedroom hadn’t worked not only because of mutual jealousy but also because we always ended up there anyway. We were drawn to each other but couldn’t please each other. It was the universe’s cruel idea of a joke—hey, here’s Mr Right, except he’s also Mr Wrong.
I grabbed my laptop and sat back down on the sofa, opening up the Cuffd website. More than ever, I needed a Dom to help me let go and forget my heartache. A Santa head flashed at me in the top right corner. I’d noticed it the last few times I’d been on the website and used the app on my cell but hadn’t paid it much attention. This time I clicked on it, reading the message that it led me to.
Wishing for a Dominant of your own this Christmas?
Send a letter to Santa with a wish list describing your perfect Dominant, and we’ll share it with our Santa Doms and Dommes here at Cuffd. If one of them fits your list, they’ll message you back with a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?
It’s up to you how you want to answer…
Well, that made a change from having to scroll through profiles until I found a guy I liked the look of. I sat there, wondering how I’d describe my perfect Dom. Right now, I wanted a Daddy to hold me more than anything. An older, bigger guy who would wrap me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay. But also a guy who would spank me as he fucked me. A man I could trust to respect my hard limits but push my soft ones. A Daddy who could help me unwind and let go.
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