Chapter 14
Lucky
My domme persona shattered in an instant. My brain short-circuited, flooding with images of Wade’s large hand wrapped around Bode’s cock, Bode’s head thrown back, both of them breathing hard as they stroked each other to completion. Fuck. This was not how I’d planned my confrontation to go.
Not that I had a real plan. Only some vague things Aimee had said.
“Are you okay?” Wade half-rose from his chair, concern written across his face. He appeared ready to rush over and perform the Heimlich maneuver, which was the last thing my dignity needed.
I held up a hand, stopping him. “Fine,” I managed, my tone raspier than I’d intended. “I’m fine.”
Bode watched me with those dark, unreadable eyes, one corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been amusement or anxiety, it was hard to tell with him. I set down my wine glass with what I hoped was dramatic precision rather than shaky embarrassment.
“You…” I started, stopped, not sure which part of this situation to address first. The fact that they’d discovered DeviDraws? That they’d been getting off to my art together?
I needed a moment to regroup. I turned away, to grab my sparkling water, and caught sight of myself in the entryway mirror.
The woman gazing back at me was both familiar and strange, me but not me.
My dark hair fell loose around my shoulders instead of in its usual practical braid.
My eyes looked larger, darker with the eyeliner I’d meticulously applied.
The black pleated skirt hit at my upper-thigh, revealing a strip of skin between it and the top of my thigh-high stockings that exposed more of me than I usually let people see.
The fitted tank top clung to curves I usually camouflaged under looser clothing.
This was my inner self, this was me as DeviDraws. I looked like the domme I drew, I looked confident, powerful, in control. Not like Lucky Venkataraman, the nerdy, awkward industrial engineer who made spreadsheets and went to bed by ten.
But beneath the costume, the fear was still there. The flush of embarrassment in my cheeks, the slight tremor in my hands.
I took a breath. I could do this. They wanted what I wanted. The only difference was that now the fantasy was flesh and blood, sitting at my dining room table, waiting for me to make a move.
And what flesh and blood it was.
The image of Wade and Bode kissing in the kitchen flashed through my mind again.
Seeing them like that had been sexy enough to take my breath away.
Wade’s large hand cupping Bode’s face, Bode leaning into the touch with a vulnerability I’d never seen from him.
I hadn’t meant to watch them. I’d come in through the mudroom, planning my confrontation, and there they were, wrapped up in each other like they couldn’t get enough.
Heat surged through me at the memory, pooling low in my belly and between my thighs. I pressed my legs together, trying to control the rush of arousal. This was supposed to be about me being angry with them, dammit. Not about me wanting to order them to recreate that moment while I watched.
I grabbed the bottle and my glass, turning back to the table with what I hoped was dominance rather than desperation. My heeled boots clicked against the hardwood as I approached, each step reminding me of the role I was trying to inhabit.
“Sit,” I commanded as I set a glass in front of each of them, my hands trembling. “Both of you.”
They complied, rushing to get into their seats and sitting straight-backed and wary, though Wade couldn’t control the excitement on his face. Their immediate obedience sent another jolt of heat through me. I’d written this scene a dozen times, but experiencing it hit different.
“Eat,” I gestured at the food Bode had prepared. My tone sounded steadier now, more authoritative. “I’m not letting good food go cold while we have this conversation.”
Wade immediately reached for the serving spoon, paused, like he needed permission.
“You can serve,” I told him, and he nodded, and quickly dished some of the delicious rice dish for each of us.
They both watched me as I settled into my chair, their expressions a mixture of wariness, curiosity, and unmistakable desire. Wade’s eyes kept darting between my face and the exposed strip of skin at my thighs. Bode’s gaze was controlled, but no less intense.
I took another sip of wine, forcing myself to slow down this time, to savor it. To make them wait.
“So,” I said, setting down my glass. “You found my art.”
It wasn’t a question, but Wade nodded anyway, eager as always. “We did. And it’s amazing, Lucky. Like, the detail, the storytelling, the—”
“When?” I cut him off, directing my question at Bode, who seemed startled at being singled out.
“A few weeks ago,” he admitted. “I saw you drawing in the kitchen.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Bode had the grace to appear ashamed, but Wade jumped in. “We didn’t know what to say. And we got, um, distracted.”
“He has ADHD. I just learned that today,” Wade said. “Very distractible.”
“You’re one to talk,” Bode muttered. “He’s constantly horny and always distracting me.”
“So you were distracted,” I repeated flatly. “By jerking each other off to my art.”
Wade smirked at me. “Isn’t that what it’s for?”
They were avoiding straightforward answers, but the engineer in me needed specifics.
Needed the data points to line up. “You’ve been viewing DeviDraws?
Getting each other off? Stroking each other’s cocks to my art.
” Part of me wanted them to deny it, to laugh it off as a joke.
But a bigger part, the part that had spent years creating drawings of the scenario, desperately wanted it to be true.
“Yes,” Bode said, his inflection steady despite the deepening color in his cheeks. “I mean, I only worked up the courage to ask him to do that last thing the one time. But yeah.”
“We fantasized about you watching it, too,” Wade added, then frowned. “Does that help our case or hurt it?”
The confirmation hit me like a blow, sending a pulse of pure want through me that was so strong I had to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. I was so wet I could feel it soaking through my underwear, and my nipples had hardened to painful points against the fabric of my tank top.
But I had no idea what to do next. The domme in my drawings had always seemed to know how to take control, how to command, how to punish. She never hesitated, never questioned herself. But the only time I’d tried dominating someone for real, it had just been an embarrassing mess.
What if I tried and failed? What if they laughed at me? What if the reality could never live up to the fantasy I’d spent years perfecting on the page?
“Lucky?” Wade’s murmur was soft, concerned. “Are you okay?”
I realized I’d been silent for too long. I straightened my spine, channeling the fantasies I’d had about being in control.
“I’m fine,” I said, more sharply than I intended. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
They both picked up their forks and began eating, but their eyes never left me, watching, waiting to see what I would do next. The ball was in my court now.
I had drawn this scene a hundred times.
I reached for my water. The cold glass felt grounding against my palm as I took a deliberate sip, watching both men over the rim. I set it down.
“More water, please.” I tested the waters with a simple command. Wade reached for the bottle, his movements quick and eager.
“Thank you,” I said, surprised at how steady my tone sounded. I took another bite of food, chewing, letting the silence stretch between us. “Now eat.”
As they both obeyed, I found myself noticing details about them both that I’d drawn dozens of times in my comics without fully appreciating in real life.
The flex of Bode’s forearm as he reached for his water glass, the fine dark hairs visible against his skin in the warm light of the dining room.
The way Wade’s throat worked when he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that was unexpectedly erotic.
The different but no less strong breadth of their shoulders: Wade’s naturally broad and powerful, Bode’s leaner but no less strong.
Both men’s eyes darkened when I crossed my legs under the table, the movement causing my skirt to ride up on my thigh. I felt the cool air on my skin and left my legs as they were. The power of their attention was intoxicating, addictive.
“So,” I set down my fork with control. “Tell me why you didn’t think to inform me that you’d discovered my art.”
The directness of the question caught them both off guard. Wade glanced at Bode, clearly hoping he would take the lead. When Bode remained silent, Wade sighed and turned back to me.
“We should have,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Lucky. It’s—it was a shock. Finding out that you were creating this remarkable content that we’d never seen any hint of before.”
“A shock,” I repeated, my tone cool. “So you were what—too shocked to say anything? For weeks?”
“No, we were—” Wade started, stopped, his face flushing. “I mean, I can’t speak for Bode, but I was—”
“We found it sexy,” Bode cut in. “We found you sexy. Your art. Your mind. The fact that you had this whole hidden side.”
The bluntness of his admission hit me like a blow, sending heat coursing through my body.
“It was like finding a key to something we’d both been circling for months,” Wade said, his blue eyes earnest. “I’ve—” He broke off, glancing at Bode, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.
“I’ve had feelings for you, Lucky. For years.
But I kept you on this pedestal, you know?
Like you were too good, too pure for the kinds of thoughts I was having. ”
I blinked, processing this confession. “Too pure?”
“Not in a bad way,” he hurried to explain. “I—I didn’t want to mess up our friendship by letting you see how much I wanted you. And finding your art, seeing this whole other side of you, it was like permission to want you the way I’ve always wanted you.”
My chest tightened at his words. Seven years.
Seven years of Wade keeping his distance, treating me with careful respect, never pushing the boundaries of our friendship.
And all the while, I’d been drawing increasingly explicit fantasies, channeling my own unexpressed desires into art rather than action.
“And you?” I turned to Bode, needing to hear his side.
He held my gaze, his dark eyes intense. “Your art woke me up. It showed me things I didn’t realize I wanted,” he said. “Until I saw it through your eyes.”
Wade leaned forward. “If you wanted to—like in your comics. Dominate us.” His face was flushed, but his tone was steady. “Tell us what to do. Teach us how to be better for you.”
Bode didn’t speak, just nodded, cheeks pink.
“You mean you want me to punish you?” I arched an eyebrow. “For going behind my back?”
“Yes,” Bode said. “Please.”
The genuine eagerness in his tone made my stomach flip with anticipation. I’d drawn countless punishment scenes in my comics: spanking, edging, orgasm denial, all of it designed to bring maximum pleasure disguised as discipline.
“Whatever you want, Lucky. We’d love to help you bring your fantasies to life.”
“That doesn’t sound like punishment. That sounds like a reward for bad behavior.”
“We promise to be good for you,” Bode said, smiling cheekily. “Then it won’t matter if it’s a reward.”
I set down my fork, the small clink of metal against porcelain loud in the charged silence.
I folded my hands in front of me, spine straight, chin lifted.
The DeviDraws persona settled over me like a second skin, no longer feeling like an imposter but like a part of myself I was allowing to surface.
“So you both want to be my playthings?” I asked, my tone steadier than I’d expected, charged with a confidence I hadn’t known I possessed. “Is that what I’m hearing?”
Wade didn’t hesitate. “Fuck yeah.” There was the familiar Wade enthusiasm, though his eyes were darker, hungrier than I’d ever seen them.
Bode’s response was more measured. He nodded once, deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yes. We’d like that. Both of us.”
The dynamic between us shifted, crystallizing into new, exhilarating territory that I couldn’t wait to explore.