Chapter 2
The submissive, Graham Knox, swipes a forearm over his sweaty brow.
Colton can see his hand trembling, and that snaps Colton into action.
The submissive is dropping hard, practically crashing before Colton’s eyes, and it makes him nauseous.
It’s painful to see and the submissive must feel even worse.
“If they all leave, can I stay?” Colton asks quietly.
“That’s a horrible idea,” someone murmurs. One of the soldiers in the back. All human then, unaware of how good an enhanced soldier’s hearing is.
“What do you do in the army?” the submissive demands. He looks past Colton as if he’s only seeing him around the edges. It’s the first vaguely submissive thing he’s seen the man do: not make eye contact with a Dominant.
“I’m a good shot.”
“What special abilities do you have?”
Colton shrugs. “Not much beyond a good eye and a can-do attitude.” Which may sound stupid but it’s what his sergeant says about him all the time.
The submissive scoffs. “Ridiculous,” he says, unimpressed enough that he meets Colton’s gaze head-on. The moment their eyes lock, the submissive’s head jerks to the side, flinching away from the contact as if he’s been punched. It bares the strong column of his throat.
Colton knows plenty of submissives that would make the same gesture and it would be an invitation to have sex. This submissive is more likely to rip Colton’s dick off with his pinky rather than submit.
The submissive shudders, corrects his posture, but there’s still a hint of not-invitation in his behavior. What is it? Is it the head tilt? The blush on his cheeks? The way he will not meet Colton’s gaze again? His quick, almost panting breaths? All of it, probably.
Beautiful.
Colton could watch the submissive fight himself and his instincts for the rest of his life, he thinks. Which is an absurd thought. The rest of his life? If the submissive has his way, Colton will be gone in under a minute.
Another shudder racks the submissive’s big body. It looks like a painful effort to hold himself upright and in that wide, powerful pose.
It’s an act.
Colton walks forward. Which isn’t something he consciously decided to do, but it’s happening. Fantastic. His dominant instincts have decided to take over and now he’s probably going to get knocked into next week. Colton stops three feet away from him.
Graham’s pulse is pounding at his throat. Fear. Strain.
“Get the hell out,” Colton says to the others, once again surprising himself.
The submissive’s shoulders tense and lower at the words.
He doesn’t look away from the submissive in front of him but can hear footsteps as people obey, leaving the two of them alone. The same soldier as before mutters something about a funeral on his way out.
Colton cannot and should not take his eyes off the man before him. He’s strong, dangerous, and unstable.
“My name is Colton Berringer. I’m a Private, First Class—”
The submissive’s right hand clenches into a fist. “I don’t care,” he says. “I don’t want you here.”
“Alright. What’s your plan?” Colton asks. He’s close enough that if they both reached out, their fingers would touch.
There’s a long pause and he sees the muscle tick at the corner of Graham’s jaw. He doesn’t want to answer. Tell me, Colton thinks, and imagines putting a hand on the submissive.
Graham flinches, as if he can feel the imaginary touch. “They’ll sedate me. Be fine in a week.” His voice is low and rough. His skin is perfectly clear, as if he’s never had a blemish in his entire life.
A week! “You’ll hurt if you do it that way.”
Graham huffs. “Weird how that pain doesn’t change.”
Colton thinks about the statement, the oblique admission. “Do you like pain?”
His gaze is hard. “I fight back when someone hurts me.” It isn’t actually an answer.
“Yes, I saw the punching bag.” Could this man kill him with a punch? Absolutely. Are dropping submissives dangerous? They certainly could be. This one undoubtedly is. “You saying you’re gonna hurt me?” he asks, the hint of dominance unintentional. He’s reacting to Graham, which isn’t what’s needed.
“Don’t fucking try to do that to me. I don’t get rolled.”
Which makes Colton flinch. “I’m sorry. I swear it wasn’t intentional. You are… well, you know how you are,” he says and feels himself blush. He closes his eyes for a long moment and is positive he can feel the submissive staring, analyzing the wash of color, how sincere he is.
“No, I don’t. Say it,” Graham hisses.
A dare.
Submissive rights have been a long-fought battle. The military isn’t certain that submissives should be able to object when a Dominant wants them. He doesn’t know what this submissive has experienced in his past, but it is undoubtedly something bad.
Colton raises his hands, takes a step back, acknowledging that he fucked up. “You’re beautiful and you’re in distress. I’m usually good with that, but fuck, you’re just as far off the spectrum as I am. I think it, um… I just need to be a bit more on guard. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”
Graham hauls in a breath, looks him up and down again, and for one solitary second Colton thinks the man is going to drop to his knees and try to tear Colton’s clothes off.
That second passes.
“Okay. Well, I can see why you’d prefer to just deal with the fallout, I guess.
I have a friend…” He swallows, hates talking about this.
And it isn’t his story to tell, so he chooses his words carefully.
“He had a very bad experience a few years back. Couldn’t stand to be touched for a long while.
Those were some very dark days. He couldn’t even be in the same room with me at first. Just…
couldn’t. But, um.” He has to clear his throat because just thinking about those horrible days makes him want to cry.
“He did get better. He found his Dominant and is married now. He’s happy and so fucking strong. ”
Graham’s jaw is hard enough to break something. His eyes are intense on Colton and his hand keeps clenching and then relaxing. Is the submissive aware of what he’s doing?
“He’s a submissive. Why did you say he was strong?”
“Because he is. Best man I know.” Colton closes his eyes.
The submissive’s distress is oppressive and hard to be around.
Every instinct Colton has is telling him to help, to reach for and touch the submissive until Colton gets it right.
Does he need a hug, a cry, or a fuck? Does he need to hurt more?
Maybe he needs all of it.
Colton can’t do anything. Not yet, and maybe not at all, so he keeps his eyes closed and takes a breath, focuses on his own control.
This is what Colton is good at: resisting impulses.
Most other (or maybe all other, since Colton’s here) Dominants would see and feel Graham’s roiling, anxious energy and would either try to fuck Graham or get the hell out.
Probably get the hell out as Graham won’t be easy.
There are a lot of easy submissives around.
Graham Knox isn’t just a hostile mess. He’s powerful.
“My friend couldn’t bear a lot of typical D/s interaction.
He needed a Dominant but didn’t want one.
When he’d drop, he’d sit by me on the couch.
That’s it. And he could touch me. Just having a Dominant next to him made things better.
He had lots of negative thoughts when he dropped.
My being there helped with that, too,” he says.
“Dominants don’t want to sit with a submissive on the couch,” Graham snarls.
“Most don’t. You’re right. My dominance is unusual. I can sit on the couch with a struggling sub and not take advantage,” he says, proud of the fact. “This doesn’t have to be about me. I’ll sit beside you and not ask for more. Anything you want,” Colton promises.
“You’re gonna do what I want? Help me?” Graham growls. His chin jerks up in challenge and he takes a threatening step closer. “Then leave.”
Colton winces. He was afraid Graham would say that. “I will leave. But your boss brought me here for a reason and your friends are worried about you. Could I maybe stay for a bit longer? You can ignore me completely.” He drops his gaze, a willing submission. “Please?”
Graham swallows audibly. “How long?”
“Fifteen minutes?”
The weight of Graham’s glare makes him feel twitchy. Colton keeps his shoulders relaxed, gaze to the side and down, allowing Graham to look as much as he wants. If nothing else, Graham does want to look. The seconds spin out and it feels like a full minute goes by before Graham speaks.
“I don’t care what you do.”
“Okay, thank you.” He risks a glance up.
Graham’s gaze is still locked on him.
Colton looks away again, conceding the contest. “In fifteen minutes I’ll leave, and you’ll never see me again. The clock says eleven forty-five. I’ll leave at noon. And, uh, in the meantime, I’m going to go sit on the bench.”
It sounds stupid. But he thinks of his best friend and he knows that if he’s patient and can prove himself, Graham may come around.
“I won’t touch you, Graham. If you come near me, then that’s your choice. I’ll talk or shut up or whatever you want. But I’ll keep my hands to myself and be on my best behavior.”
Colton risks a quick glance at the submissive to see how his words are being received.
Graham is staring at Colton’s crotch. He flinches when caught. That muscle ticks at the corner of his jaw as he grinds his teeth.
Colton drops his gaze, concedes that dominance battle to Graham, and sits down. A lot of Dominants can’t concede to a submissive.
His uniform jacket is too hot. He’s sweating and adrenaline is pumping through his veins. He sounded calm, but the truth is that this beast of a man being a submissive is just about the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Talk about a fucked-up cosmic joke.
There isn’t a single thing about Graham Knox that says submissive. And he won’t give in unless he wants to. Hell, he may not give in then either.
For someone like Graham, being a submissive must be awful.
Giving in, wanting, needing to please their Dominant is part of a submissive’s biology.
If those needs are not met, then a submissive’s health suffers.
But like most things in life, just because something is good for someone doesn’t mean they want to do it.
Dominants help when submissives drop. There isn’t a work-around no matter how strong or enhanced a soldier is. A submissive can’t pull out of a drop alone. Designation is symbiotic. And if Graham denies himself the help of a Dominant, then he’ll experience a hormonal crash.
Which is much worse than a drop.
Hormones build up and become toxic. A Dominant gives a submissive what they need so those hormones can come out and restore balance.
If Graham wants drugs to cope, then he’s gonna feel like shit.
And if he never engages with a Dominant?
He must be very unhappy. Possibly in a lot of mental distress most of the time.
Perhaps even physically compromised. Although he looks so strong and healthy that no one would know.
Well, except for now, when it’s obvious to anyone that the submissive is struggling hard.
He continues to stare at the ground but can see movement at the periphery of his vision. Graham goes behind him, stands there for a drawn-out moment. Silent and looming.
Colton’s dominant instincts don’t fucking like it. Graham is trying to provoke him, looking for validation of his belief that Colton can’t be trusted. That no Dominant can ever be trusted.
Colton breathes in and out evenly, keeps his body relaxed. This is just a power game. He isn’t some asshole ruled by his instincts. There’s a sound behind him. A loud rip of Velcro and then a heavy thud. Graham’s weapon belt hitting the ground. The thud is to unsettle Colton.
It works.
But Colton doesn’t get up or turn around.
Graham lashes out, grabs the back of Colton’s neck in a hard, tight grip. He shoves in close, would have pushed Colton off the bench and to the floor if Colton hadn’t braced himself. Graham exhales near his ear. He smells of sweat and smoke.
It’s a lot sexier than it has any right to be.
Undoubtedly, Graham’s pheromones are amping up Colton’s body’s reaction, too. His cock is getting hard despite the annoying grip. Colton’s voice wavers with the anger he’s suppressing. “I’d never treat a submissive like this. Not when I didn’t know if they wanted it.”
“You’re not my Dominant. I don’t need one. And it’s easy to say you wouldn’t. You’re all fucking liars anyway.”
Colton puts his hand in the air, moves slowly so Graham knows what’s about to happen if he doesn’t let go of Colton’s neck. Graham doesn’t let go. Colton rests his hand over Graham’s, squeezes his fingers like Graham is squeezing his neck but gently.
It’s an example of what type of touch Colton thinks is appropriate. It’s his responsibility to set the tone. This interaction is important. It’s everything.
Graham’s hand convulses, biting into the tendons of Colton’s neck. Colton draws in a breath, muscles tensed against the sharp pain. But he doesn’t fight. He keeps his own grip light.
I wouldn’t do this to you. The silent message will get through. Won’t it? He’s just about to pull away when Graham surrenders.
“Sorry. Fuck,” Graham says all in a rush. His grip loosens and he starts to lift his hand away.
Colton presses gently, letting Graham know that his touch is still welcome, just not like that.
“It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, sweetheart.” Shit, he probably shouldn’t have called him sweetheart. He brushes his thumb over Graham’s knuckle. Gently, back and forth, again and again. It becomes predictable, a tiny metronome across that small bit of skin.
Graham doesn’t pull away, so Colton doesn’t stop. Again and again he brushes one finger over the man’s knuckle. He just has to be patient.
For a submissive this resistant to a Dominant, this small touch is a victory. The first brick of trust. My behavior is predictable and gentle. I won’t hurt you, he tries to say with just that small touch.
Graham’s breathing evens out. Is he watching Colton’s finger move over his skin? Graham’s other hand lands hard on Colton’s other shoulder.
Graham sways, stumbles, and rights himself. “Dammit,” he rasps.
One small touch dragging the angry submissive down.
Graham Knox is a disaster.
“If you want to sit down, there’s lots of room,” Colton offers.