Chapter 17 Cam
seventeen
cam
“So.” Damian grinned evilly—one hundred percent a thing—as he perched on the sofa the three of us were occupying.
When he’d said he’d get food ready while we showered, I’d expected he was going to grill something easy.
I should’ve expected a fancy hacker would survive off Chinese takeout.
Not that I was complaining. Greasy noodles were the best invention there was, and he’d gotten three containers of the thing, which meant I didn’t have to feel bad about stealing one and keeping it close before anyone got any other ideas.
“You’ve managed to get Saúl out of his rut. Respect.”
I blinked.
Rut?
What rut?
“For fuck’s sake, shut up.”
“Um.” I was obviously ignoring Saúl’s protests.
Getting the story was more important. Everyone who saw the look in Damian’s face would know there was a story to unveil here, and I was all about getting the tea, even when he was still a stranger and I must’ve blushed fire red the second we showed up downstairs after a shower that didn’t get as derailed as it could have if Saúl hadn’t gone all herding mode. “What rut?”
Damian’s gaze shifted to Saúl, who gave him the finger.
Rude.
Worse, I knew that whatever silent communication they were engaging in meant I’d already lost dibs on it. D-types were really good at teaming up, and getting them to break files was almost impossible. I didn’t know one single sub who hadn’t tried at least once.
“Grown-up things. Don’t worry about it.” He flicked his wrist before leaning forward to grab the stem of his wine glass.
I’d stuck to water and gotten a weird look, but what if I needed to take my meds later?
And if we were going to play, alcohol was a bad idea.
Other people could take a beer or two and still be fine for play that wasn’t too heavy, but I didn’t fall under that category.
“So what are you planning to do in my dungeon?”
“Um.”
Did I choke on thin air?
Well, yeah. I was set on becoming a walking stereotype of the messy sub, obviously.
Ugh.
Saúl cleared his throat and got the attention back to him, thank fuck. “We didn’t get that far. Will you quit it now? Don’t know why I bother with you.”
“Aw.” Damian twirled the glass of wine between his fingers. “I’ll miss fucking you too, boo.”
If it were possible, Saúl’s frown deepened even more. “You really aren’t house-trained.”
I covered my mouth before I burst out laughing, and the attention went back to me. Damian didn’t hide how hilarious he found the concept.
“Thank fuck I’m not.”
I had to say, he was a bit… odd, and I was back at not quite knowing what to make of him, but I liked him. I was the kind of chaotic that liked people who would meet me where I was at—sue me.
Speaking of…
“So, you two…”
Damian was clearly in the mood to be more unhinged now, and just because they’d had their silent agreement to not speak of whatever it was before, the eccentric in Damian was not going to forego the opportunity to talk about his exploits. Was he?
As suspected, he turned toward me with the feral smile I’d come to expect, leaving the wine on the table to rest his chin on his hand. “Your Daddy is particular about the men he fucks, and how he does it.”
I gulped. He looked giddy to have shared the intel, but I needed more. What did that mean? Particular in that he was a Dom, or a Sadist? Or was it something more?
Did I fall under the category of men he fucked?
Not that—
No, actually, yes, I one hundred percent wanted him to fuck me.
“And,” Saúl intervened, “Damian is too much of a closeted masochist for a Master.”
“Ohhh?” Now I was invested—which obviously meant sitting cross-legged in the middle of the couch and leaning closer. “Please go into as much detail as you want. For science purposes.”
“Right,” Damian drawled. He didn’t look pissed off, though.
There was that permanent hint of humor in his eyes as he watched me.
I really liked him. Even though he wouldn’t tell me about Saúl’s rut, and he would probably make me regret liking him if we did end up in his dungeon. “I suppose we can always make a deal.”
“I’m all ears.”
It took everything to remember that blurting out I’m in without actually listening to the conditions was a bad idea, but I did it. I really deserved a cookie.
Damian hadn’t ordered any cookies.
Maybe I should reconsider liking him.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know.
” He twisted his fingers together under his chin, which I didn’t know if it was a tell of his, but he got my attention.
If Doms offered that much right off the bat, they wanted something even more chaotic out of you.
It was Brat Dealings 101. “I’ll even let you watch…
if you let me watch you get edged by your Daddy until you cry. ”
Damn.
The air was sucked out of the room, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t just me.
I tried being subtle when I chanced a look Saúl’s way, but he was pretty decent when he wanted to keep a poker face.
He only leaned back and spread his legs a bit while raising an eyebrow in Damian’s direction. The moving had his thigh oh-so-casually touching my lower back. Definitely not complaining.
Was it on purpose?
I wouldn’t put it past him.
It was nothing personal, but everyone knew D-types couldn’t be trusted. I needed much more information on the type of Dom, or Daddy, or whatever, Saúl was before I dared to say that out loud, but that was a whole other thing.
“Um.” I blinked. “Why?”
It was important that we stayed on track, wasn’t it? And like, edging was hot, and I didn’t have a problem with it most of the time, but asking questions was the smart thing to do. Wasn’t it?
Besides, I’d already clocked Damian as a strict Dom. Strict Doms required handling with care. All their requests came with ways to fuck with your head. Everyone knew this.
“Because you’re hot as sin,” Damian said with a wink, “and I get scarily turned on by a boy’s tears. Plus, Saúl is a sight to behold when he’s edging someone.”
“Uh-huh.”
Another stolen glance, but Saúl didn’t say anything.
I found myself fumbling. Negotiating was all fun and good, but I needed to feel anchored.
Some people said that negotiations could only happen while everyone was stable and lucid and whatnot, and like, I agreed, I supposed, in theory.
But nothing beat having a Dom’s arm wrapped around me while we talked, or a subtle massage keeping me relaxed while I had to make myself stupidly vulnerable in the name of keeping play responsible.
“How about you give Cam some breathing room?” Saúl grumbled. “Or maybe, next time, you run shit by me first.”
Damian was unfazed by the scolding. I really didn’t see how. It wasn’t aimed at me, and I was kind of cowering in response. But Damian kept proving he had a chaotic streak a mile wide because he just leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So it’s serious then?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I couldn’t help it and became the stereotype that choked on thin air.
Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. Or it had.
I wanted to be edged, even though it had been so fucking long.
I was going to start begging and crying in two seconds flat, but maybe this was going too fast, and maybe it wasn’t a good idea to mix pleasure and business, and Damian was a bit out of my league.
There was no reason to think he was, objectively, and I wasn’t a newbie or anything, but why did I suddenly feel so anxious?
I didn’t feel anxious when it came to kink. It was my biggest draw to it. I didn’t like that it felt different now.
“Cam.” Saúl spoke my name in that deeper voice he had started using ever since he had caught me with a diaper on.
I was itching to mention it, but then that would mean talking about that day, and we’d both agreed we weren’t doing it, so I just swallowed it up and tried not to think too hard about what it meant. “Breathe with me.”
The sharpness in his voice meant he had to be glaring at Damian really hard.
The truth was that I didn’t want to check, whatever that said about me.
His glares were scary. I’d only seen them a couple of times when he got frustrated with one of the hands fucking up one thing or another.
It was more than enough. Besides, I didn’t want to see his face and started reading a million other things that wouldn’t be there.
“Okay.”
Was that the right answer? I never knew what to do with myself when people asked me to breathe. I understood what they were doing and why, but it left me feeling small and insecure, and focusing on breathing was actually harder than they realized.
“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” he directed.
That did make it a bit easier. Not as overwhelming when I didn’t have to remember the steps on top of everything else.
“Sorry,” I managed after taking my first full breath.
Fuck, this was embarrassing. My hands curled into fists. It was that or starting to tremble. Saúl covered one of mine with one of his, which made it better and warmer and safer. He was good at knowing when I needed that extra sense of safety. It was almost unfair.
“Do you need water or something?”
I shook my head, then turned to Damian.
“It’s not you, it’s me?” I grimaced. Yeah, that had sounded better in my head. “I’m not… I wanna be edged. To be clear. It’s not that. I don’t know what’s coming over me. I mean, I know I have panic attacks, obviously, but it never happens when I’m talking bout kink or—”
“Breathe.”
Okay, that breathe worked better—simply because there was barely contained frustration in it that forced me to stop.
And I knew it wasn’t about breathing this time, which also took some of the weight off.
Saúl wasn’t the first person to point out that I spoke too fast, and it was hard to understand me when I did.
Not that I thought that was why he’d cut me off.
“So.” I nodded to myself. “Um. Sorry about that. Can we go to your playroom now so I can prove I’m the biggest masochist around?”
Damian laughed, completely delighted. “You’re a bundle of chaos, aren’t you?”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
The mumbled words had Saúl mimicking Damian’s laugh, which was much better. His laughter was just superior. It was grumbly and came straight from the belly, and it wrapped its arms around me and didn’t let go until warmth had seeped all over.
“Let’s get this over with.” Saúl sighed, clapping his hands against his thighs.
“You don’t have to make it sound like it’s putting you out,” I complained.
Did I understand what he was saying? Yes. Did I care enough to not stir trouble? Nope.