Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Lex
The hot shower had done wonders for the tension in my shoulders from the long day, but it did nothing for the anticipation coiling in my gut.
I towel-dried my hair until it was just damp and messy, then pulled on gray sweatpants and a soft t-shirt.
It was the most casual I’d been around Cami since she’d arrived.
When I emerged from my room and headed back downstairs, I could hear their voices. Cami’s laughter was bright and uninhibited, and Majesty’s deeper rumble in response. The sound made something warm settle in my chest.
They were still in the kitchen when I appeared, and Cami’s eyes tracked me immediately. Her gaze lingered on my wet hair, then traveled down to the gray sweatpants before snapping back up to my face, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Interesting.
“Feel better?” Majesty asked, already plating me a generous serving of pasta.
“Much.” I accepted the plate and poured myself a modest glass of wine—enough to participate but not enough to dull my awareness. I wanted to be present for whatever conversation was coming.
“Come sit,” Cami said, gesturing to the couch in the great room. “We’ve been monopolizing the table.”
I followed them to the seating area, settling into the armchair while Majesty and Cami took the couch. The fire was still going, casting warm light across the room, and the atmosphere felt intimate despite the space between us.
The pasta was excellent, and I told Majesty as much between bites. Cami was curled into the corner of the couch, her own wine glass nearly empty, cheeks flushed from alcohol and the warmth of the fire. She looked relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before, her guard down, comfortable.
“So, Sir,” she said after a moment, her eyes finding mine with that directness I was beginning to recognize as her tell when she was feeling bold. “Majesty got to answer all my questions during dinner. Now it’s your turn.”
“Fair enough.” I set my plate aside, giving her my full attention. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you get into this?” She gestured vaguely. “The lifestyle, I mean. Teaching, building furniture, all of it.”
“Psychology degree first,” I said. “I was interested in human behavior, relationships, power dynamics. Started researching BDSM for a paper and realized the community had a more nuanced understanding of consent and communication than most vanilla relationships.”
“So you just... joined?” Cami leaned forward, listening intently.
“Eventually. I went to a munch first. That’s a casual social gathering and met people who were willing to teach me.
Spent two years learning before I ever topped anyone.
” I took a sip of wine. “The furniture came later. I was frustrated by how poorly designed most commercial pieces were. Either they looked like torture devices or they fell apart after minimal use.”
“That’s when you met Majesty?”
“During college? Yes. He had the craftsmanship skills I lacked. I had the technical knowledge and design sense. We complemented each other.”
She studied me with those intelligent eyes, processing. “And the teaching? When did that start?”
“About five or six years ago. We kept getting asked the same questions at play parties. How do you negotiate a scene, how do you read body language, how do you make sure everyone stays safe. Eventually, we formalized it into workshops.”
“Do you enjoy it? The teaching?”
“More than I expected to.” I leaned back in the chair, considering how to explain it. “There’s something satisfying about watching people discover parts of themselves they didn’t know existed. Watching them learn to communicate in ways they never have before.”
“Is that what you’re doing with me?” The question was slightly challenging. “Watching me discover myself, Sir?”
“Yes.” I didn’t shy away from her gaze. “But not in the detached way you’re implying. I’m very much invested in what you discover, Cami.”
Her breath caught slightly, and Majesty’s mouth curved into a knowing smile beside her.
“Why?” she pressed, emboldened by curiosity.
“Because you’re fascinating. Because you’re brave enough to be here, vulnerable enough to learn, and strong enough to push back when something doesn’t feel right.” I paused. “And because I’m attracted to you in ways that have nothing to do with teaching.”
“Oh.” It came out breathy, and I watched her throat work as she swallowed.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I asked.
“No, Sir.” She bit her lip. “The opposite, actually.”
Majesty chuckled softly. “I think what Cami’s trying to say is that she’s attracted to you too. She’s just being polite about it.”
“I’m sitting right here, Sir,” she protested, but there was no heat in it.
“We know,” I said, holding her gaze. “That’s what makes this interesting.”
She set down her wine glass with slightly unsteady hands. “You’re very direct, Lex.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, Sir.” Her eyes sparkled with something that looked like excitement. “I like it. It’s... refreshing. Most people dance around what they mean.”
“I don’t dance,” I said simply. “When I want something, I say it. When I’m interested in someone, I make it clear.”
“And you’re interested in me.”
“Very much so. Have been since that first dinner.”
“Both of you?” She looked between us, seeking confirmation.
“Both of us,” Majesty confirmed, his voice warm and sure.
She stood then, collecting my plate with slightly flushed cheeks. “I’m going to clean up.” She said it more to herself than to us and watching her scurry away was cute and endearing. She had to come back, though.
We let her go, watching as she busied herself in the kitchen. Majesty caught my eye and I nodded slightly. She was processing, and she needed the space to do it. I would be right here when she returned ready for whatever other questions she had.
When she returned a few minutes later, she’d composed herself somewhat, though her eyes were still bright with possibility. She settled back on the couch, this time closer to the middle, equidistant between where Majesty sat and where I was positioned in the chair.
“Okay,” she said, taking a breath. “I want to talk about what this actually looks like. Dating both of you.”
“Alright.” I moved from the chair to the couch, sitting on her other side so she was flanked by both of us. “What do you want to know?”
At first, she seemed flustered having us both so close, but in order for me to know if she truly was open to this, I needed to see her under the pressure of having our focus on her.
Though nervous, I could see the way she breathed deeper and how aware she was of each of us when Majesty hadn’t moved yet, only me.
“I’ve been reading about polyamory,” she admitted. “And everything says there needs to be a primary relationship first. A strong foundation between two people before adding a third.”
“That’s one model,” I said carefully. “But it’s not the only one.”
“What do you mean, Sir?”
Majesty shifted to face her more fully. “There is a foundation here. Between Lex and me. We’ve known each other for eighteen years, worked together for most of that, built a business and a teaching practice together. We trust each other completely.”
“But you’re not romantic,” she said, clearly trying to understand.
“No,” I confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a foundation. We’re partners in every sense except the sexual one. We communicate constantly, we know each other’s limits and triggers, we can read each other without words.”
“And when we’ve shared partners before,” Majesty added, “that foundation is what made it work. We were unified in how we approached things, how we cared for someone together.”
“So the foundation doesn’t have to be traditional,” Cami said slowly, working through it. “It just has to be solid. Built on trust and communication.”
“Exactly.” I watched understanding dawn in her eyes. “The romantic and sexual connections with you would develop separately, but the structure underneath would be strong because Majesty and I already have that with each other. You’d have the pleasure of receiving that on both ends.”
“What about between you and me?” she asked. “And between Majesty and me? Do those connections have to develop at the same pace?”
“No,” I said. “They’ll develop however they develop. There’s no prescribed timeline or requirement that you feel the same way about both of us at the same time.”
“Though I’ll admit,” Majesty said with a grin, “I’m planning to be irresistible, so your feelings for me will probably develop faster.”
She laughed, the sound lightening the intensity of the conversation. “That’s very confident of you, Sir.”
“I prefer to think of it as being self-aware.”
“What if I feel differently about one of you than the other?” she asked, serious again. “What if I’m more attracted to one, or connect better with one?”
“Then we adjust,” I said simply. “This isn’t about fairness or equality in feelings. It’s about honesty and communication. If you’re more drawn to Majesty initially, that’s okay. If you need more time with me to build that connection, that’s okay too.”
“And you wouldn’t be...” she hesitated, searching for the word. “Jealous?”
“Of each other?” Majesty shook his head. “No. That’s not how we work. Your connection with Lex doesn’t diminish anything between us. Your connection with me doesn’t threaten what’s building with him.”
“That seems too easy,” she murmured.
“It’s not easy,” I corrected. “It requires constant communication, regular check-ins, willingness to be vulnerable about our needs and fears. But jealousy isn’t productive. Compersion is.”
“Compersion?”
“Taking joy in your partner’s happiness, even when it’s with someone else,” Majesty explained. “If you and Lex have an amazing scene together, I want to hear about it. I want to be happy for both of you.”
“And if you and I connect in ways that are different from how you connect with Majesty,” I added, “that’s celebrated, not threatened.”