3. Jaime
THREE
jaime
T alking with Tony was weird, and that was when I wasn’t actively thinking of how Sergio would react if he found out I was here. Or Cece, for that matter. Cece would definitely find out, and harsh words would be exchanged.
But once Tony wasn’t pushing about what I did or didn’t do with my roommate, he was nicer than I thought. He only made a few faces when I accused half the journalism department of being transphobic assholes. He also asked if I already had an idea of what my thesis was going to be about and didn’t discourage me or shrug it off when I said I wanted to write about pinkwashing and homonationalism.
I was shocked when the intercom buzzed. An hour had passed already, with only a smidge of discomfort at the beginning there?
I squirmed while Tony stood up. The casual clothes he’d put on after his shower weren’t like anything I’d seen on him.
Fuck. I knew, okay… I knew I couldn’t be simping like this. I shouldn’t feel excited about telling him more about my thesis or anything else. I should be bolting with my new book and locking myself in my room to start working on the stupid email.
I heard the door open and Tony talk to the delivery driver, but I didn’t pay attention. I should check my phone and see if Cece had texted.
But if someone had texted, it would most likely be Sergio. I didn’t know how he’d react if I said where I was, and I didn’t want to lie to him, so…
Coward’s way out, it was.
“Did you order the entire menu?”
Huh?
Shit.
“No?” I frowned.
Okay, the plastic bag he carried looked overstuffed. If it was black instead of white, it could totally be used by a Santa impersonator. But I hadn’t been that unreasonable. He could take it as reparations for the thing with Sergio, anyway. The guy was never going to ask him for anything, so I was taking on that duty—one big takeout order at a time.
No, it didn’t make me feel better. Whatever.
“You do know food goes bad, right?”
“My freezer is almost empty.” I shrugged. “And Cece starts their period tomorrow.”
For some reason, that last minute addition made Tony pause.
“How do you know that?”
“I live with them?” I wrinkled my nose. “What, you didn’t know when Marga and Jen got theirs?”
I thought we were over the section of the day where I ripped him a new one, but I would if need be.
Tony dropped the bag on the coffee table after a short pause. “They had very irregular periods, I think. I’d get them tampons and shit when they asked, but that was it.”
“That…” I blinked. “That was it?”
Had I stepped into an alternate reality?
“Yes?”
It didn’t seem like he was open to discuss it as he retreated back to the kitchen, I was assuming. It was confirmed by the rustling of kitchenware two seconds later.
I understood he was being practical or whatever, but it bothered me having to wait until he got back with all the utensils.
My stomach growled, too. I loved the smell of Indian food, and it was my number one comfort food. It was just warm, filling, and nice.
Whatever.
I had more important shit to deal with here.
“Not that I wanna go back to talking about sex, but…” I pursed my lips. That was kind of a lie. I didn’t have a problem talking about sex, not even with him. I just didn’t want to talk about bottoming with him. One didn’t need to be too smart to know where that conversation would lead. I knew what my weaknesses were. “How couldn’t you know? Like, menstrual cycles affect horny levels and shit.”
Not to mention that, as much of a fan as I could be of messy sex while someone was on their period, certain accommodations were required.
“Do we really have to talk about this?” Tony pretended to be unaffected as he dropped a couple of plates and forks on the table.
There was a slight tremor to his hand.
I caught it.
I liked that I was observant enough to catch it—I couldn’t say that I liked that it was there. Even if I was on Team What The Fuck Is Wrong With Tony right now.
“Yep.”
Tony sighed. He didn’t try to answer until he sat his ass back down on the couch. For a second, I wondered if he was going to leave the bag of steaming food untouched, and if so, was it too rude to start dishing it out? But then he leaned forward and untied the knot on top.
Thankfully. I never remembered until I was fighting with it, but I always struggled to undo those. When I was alone at home, I didn’t even try; I just grabbed a pair of scissors and called it a day.
It was slightly embarrassing to do that in front of people. Adults were supposed to know how to untie knots in plastic bags, but the ones from takeout restaurants were just too tight. It wasn’t my fault.
“Marga and Jen came to me because I offered them discipline, structure, and to a lesser degree, money.” He furrowed his brow as he started to take the containers out of the bag and spread them out. “It was still a sexual dynamic, of course, but?—”
“Why of course?” I bit out.
I knew that of course had come out because he was strangely anxious. I didn’t care. There was a reason why I always beat everyone in debate club, and I wasn’t ashamed to say it had to do with how annoying I could be about language.
“Right.” Tony rolled his eyes. It was weirdly disappointing that he didn’t engage. “Anyway. There was a sexual aspect to our dynamic, but it wasn’t the main thing. There was a lot of cockwarming, but it wasn’t rare to go a week or more without penetrative sex. Plus, they said their periods were very out of whack. I tried telling them once that going three months without one on the regular sounded like something a doctor should be aware of, but they laughed me off. Didn’t bring it up again.”
I frowned. I had things to say about his whole didn’t bring it up again —namely, it didn’t sound very Daddy-like of him. I knew he played as different roles, but he’d been a Master Daddy to them from what they’d said. It was the dynamic they’d set up in the app, too. But I was stuck in his reluctance—in the way he spoke about penetrative sex with them.
No, penetrative sex was not necessary, and having it or not having it meant nothing, but he’d never given the impression that he was the kind of person who genuinely believed as much.
“And you were okay with it?”
There was no way we’d all gotten Tony so wrong in our heads, was there? No, he had that whole attitude around him, the entire time. Marga and Jen had talked to me, and I’d cringed more than a few times.
“With what?” Tony sighed. He got himself comfortable on the couch, but it couldn’t be more than posturing. “They gave me what I wanted from them, and I gave them what they needed. It’s how it works, right?”
Did he give them what they needed? Flashes of conversations with Marga and Jen over greasy pizza rose up to the surface. From an outside perspective, their relationship with Tony had never seemed great. Just good enough to keep everyone in it.
“Is that how you justified cheating on them?”
Tony froze. Then his nostrils flared. I didn’t care. “Is that what they’re saying?”
Scratch that. Maybe I cared after all.
Marga and Jen broke up with him a few days after the article that outed him came out. When they’d mentioned it, Sergio had lost it, thinking they were breaking up with him for being queer. They’d said it was because while we’d found out he was part of the alphabet mafia, they’d found out he was cheating on them.
“Yeah?”
It had seemed pretty clear-cut to me. The three of them had been monogamish at best. Tony would share them as part of a scene, but that was all they did outside of their dynamic. It was strange, after years of being surrounded by other polyam people, to think in terms of monogamy, but that didn’t mean it made them less valid.
Tony shook his head. “Want me to find the contract they signed when we started out? Because it states very clearly that we had an open arrangement, and only long-term dynamics had to be discussed.”
They signed a contract? That was a thing people did?
Wait—
“Really?”
He all but sneered.
Fine . I got it.
“I didn’t have anything long term with anyone,” he said.
“So you just fucked strangers who happened to pass by your office?”
Okay, I heard that, and it was way harsher than I’d intended.
Tony glared at me. “Just professors who came for a visit. No strings attached or the possibility of them.”
And if they were professors from other cities—or countries—there was no fear of being outed to his family, I bet.
“How do you identify, anyway?” Today was the day when my mouth ran faster than my brain. “I mean, are you bi? Plain ol’ gay?”
Tony snorted. Humor flickered in his eyes, but it vanished quickly. He pretended it was a fun, simple question, but he was tense. Suddenly, plating up the food was the most interesting activity in his periphery.
Too bad I had no problem waiting him out, and I hadn’t made up my mind about him yet.
“You’re actually the first person to ask me that.”
“I am?”
But he hung out with Erika? And didn’t Marga and Jen want to know when it all went down? I would have, if I’d been them. His family, too. I overheard that they’d turned their backs on him, and quite literally too, but wouldn’t they have asked? Homophobic assholes tended to care about the specific labels, even when they did not believe in anything other than a gay/straight dichotomy.
Tony just cleared his throat. “As cringeworthy as I find the labels, I think I’m bisexual and homoromantic.”
He looked like it was something he’d put quite a lot of thought into, so I just let the confession sit between us. I wasn’t a total asshole, no matter what people wanted to say about me.
“So, you’re bi for fucking, but gay for falling in love and shit.”
I said I wasn’t a total asshole. I didn’t say I was good at supportive, sentimental talks. I still hadn’t figured out why Marga and Jen had flocked to me every time they’d wanted to talk shit about their Daddy.
“Something like that.” Tony snorted. “I guess… I said María’s hot, right? And I can get off to how good those boobs would feel around my dick, but the idea of being all domestic with her? Does nothing to me.”
“Right.”
Did I truly get it? No, but that wasn’t on the specific labels or Tony himself. I’d just never really understood anyone who wasn’t, like, attracted to everyone, in all the ways. Bemoaning about why everyone wasn’t just bi and a horn dog like me was not what any of us needed right now, though, and I had restraint.
“Eat up,” he muttered.
One step at a time, I supposed. He didn’t need to tell me twice, anyway. I was starving.
I might’ve been in a rush this morning and barely had breakfast.
The university had a cafeteria, but the workers were on strike, and the vending machines were so fucking overpriced, I’d rather starve than get anything out of principle alone. It only bothered me because they had the cookies I obsessed over, taunting me. Why weren’t they available in all supermarkets? I always forgot to look into it.
The point was, I didn’t need any further encouragement to pile up my plate full of vegetable biryani. It was my favorite dish to order as takeout because the Indian restaurants around here always used the largest containers and filled them to the brim.
It was when I was stuffing my mouth that I noticed Tony had been watching me with a funny expression.
I swallowed the yellow rice and licked my lips before I shifted my focus back to him. “What’s with the face?”
“You really are always on the defensive, huh?” Tony shook his head before I could retort. He wasn’t wrong , to be fair, but I’d say I was justified. In my experience, the world was an attack or be attacked kind of ecosystem. “I’d expected you to go for something different, that’s all.”
Huh?
What was wrong with biryani?
I grabbed the plate and brought it to my lap, curling up around it. I would one hundred percent go to fists with someone over food.
“Indian is my favorite cuisine,” I said slowly. I really did not know what he was on about. “It’s comfort food.”
“Good to know.” Tony pursed his lips as he fished for one of the containers with his order. “Marga and Jen always got the chicken dishes. I guess I expect everyone who isn’t vegan to get those.”
Oohhh .
I wrinkled my nose. “María doesn’t like it when we eat meat in front of her. She’s okay with vegetarian dishes, but… Yeah. I’ve internalized not eating meat when I’m with her. And now you.”
Not to mention, using his money to buy something he was against felt very icky from an ethical standpoint. It was probably a good thing that, despite Marga’s and Jen’s flocking to me, I’d never grown particularly attached to them. There was always a thin layer of I don’t know why you’re so comfortable hanging out with me, but your giggles don’t feel like they come from a genuine place at times . I tended to cling to those impressions.
“That’s noble of you.”
I chuckled. “You sound surprised.”
“Not sure that’s the right word.” Tony hummed. I waited to see if he was going to say something else, but he began eating. I supposed he was working through whatever it was that he wanted to say, and I wasn’t one to sit with my stomach twisting in knots while I waited for a verdict. Eating while he made sense of whatever was plaguing him was not a hardship at all. “I think Erika’s finally getting to me with all her talks about letting people in. Maybe I pushed away the wrong people all this time.”
“You think?” I snorted.
Just saying, I could’ve told him that a million years ago. Hell, even before he was outed. I understood the whole I’m the straightest of straight men and I don’t hang out with the queers over there , but the thing was, he had hung out with us. He’d just stood in the margins. The other people he’d associated with—other than Marga and Jen, who were fine most of the time—were the kind of people who made others not fully trust kink clubs. I never saw him engage with their shitty takes, but he couldn’t have felt too comfortable around them. Could he?
Tony was watching me. I thought he’d be scowling, growling, or whatever it was he did, but he just watched. The way he used to back before everything imploded around him.
“I couldn’t be a part of your group. You know it.”
I licked my lips. Did I? “Because of Sergio?”
“That was a huge part.” Tony coughed before he reached for a glass of water. “Still is.”
I fixated way more than I had any business doing on the moistAure that clung to his bottom lip when he licked it.
We were not going to talk about it.
“I mean, yeah, you fucked up.”
From what I’d heard, it wasn’t even for a good reason.
“I’m aware,” he said with a grunt. “Do we have to rehash my early twenties and all the mistakes I made?”
“Not really.” I shrugged it off, but I noted the resigned tone and the way he enunciated mistakes. It seemed relevant. “Have you been with anyone since?”
“Since Sergio?” Tony raised an eyebrow.
I scowled. “Since Marga and Jen.”
“Does my fist count?”
I froze. Don’t blame me, okay? I wasn’t counting on the dry humor. Of course, it was the moment I’d grabbed another forkful of food, so I ended up having a coughing fit. My throat closed up over the food, heat rising to my face as I tried to salvage the little dignity I had left in front of him.
Unsurprisingly, Tony moved closer. It didn’t help. His hand on my back didn’t, either, but I had no way of letting him know. No, I could just sit there as I tried not to die, while he shoved the same glass he’d been drinking from in my face.
Tears pooled in my eyes. Double fuck. I wasn’t a crier. It kind of bothered me, too, the assumptions about subs and shit. I didn’t cry after a scene or when I got overwhelmed. When I laughed or coughed too hard, though? Or when I was stuck home with the flu? The tears flowed then—especially if there was someone to witness it.
Did I say I hated it?
Eventually, I managed to swallow whatever got stuck there and stopped coughing long enough to take a sip of the water Tony offered. Because my luck was shit, it wasn’t before two stray tears leaked out of my eyes or before I could stop Tony from running a thumb across my cheeks to wipe them away.
We weren’t going to talk about how my heart sped up. That was just a natural reaction. I’d go with that. Seemed feasible enough.
“You’re okay?”
“I hate you,” I grumbled.
Perfectly reasonable response.
Tony just quirked an eyebrow. Did I mention I hated when Domms pulled that shit? “Should I have left you to choke on your own?”
I narrowed my eyes. I knew, and he knew, there was no way for me to answer without sounding petulant as fuck.
“Whatever.” I had to think of something else. I couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, could I? Think, Jaime, think . “So, you’ve only fooled around in your office? With men, I mean?”
That would do it.
Or not.
Part of taunting him was hoping he’d move away. He didn’t. He was even closer than I’d dared to move earlier, when he’d implied I was?—
Nope, not going there either.
But he was still too close—I shouldn’t be able to track the way his jaw tightened, or how that cord in his neck begged to be licked and bitten and toyed with until he pushed me away. I shouldn’t be imagining what that would look like.
“Are you trying to shame me, Jaime?”
Jaime .
I paused.
All this time, he’d been calling me boy. Using my name felt significant, even with the derision in his voice.
I swallowed. That derision should be putting me off, dammit. It shouldn’t be making me fixate more; it shouldn’t make me salivate with the need to inch closer.
“I’m too turned on to answer that.”
No one could say I wasn’t honest.
Tony still didn’t move away, dammit. Wasn’t he supposed to? He never got anywhere near the lot of us whenever something sexual was going on.
I couldn’t think straight.
The only things that existed were the heat pooling in my stomach, my vision blurring around the edges as I forgot to blink in his presence, and… him.
Tony cocked his head to the side. “So what? You can’t think when you get hard?”
I shook my head. My mouth filled with saliva. I swallowed it down. “I wanna hump your leg.”
That had him reeling back. Just his head. Not far enough, either. I could still count the pores where he must’ve shaved that morning. I still had to clench my fists before I followed him, intoxicated.
There would be no excuse for it.
“You just acknowledged you’re not in the right headspace,” Tony said. I blinked. What did that have to do with— “We don’t have an established dynamic. Never played together.”
“So, establish it.”
My voice was too breathy. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way he wasn’t jumping my bones, even if I was still coherent enough to acknowledge that not jumping my bones was the right thing to do.
“Eat your food, Jaime.”
“I’m—” No, I couldn’t say I wasn’t hungry. Fuck him. “I’m not changing my mind.”
It wasn’t what I’d planned to say, but it was more honest. I’d think of what that said about me later. Or Cece would tell me, and she wasn’t one to mince words.
“Good.” Tony bit out the word. I frowned. My obsession with him didn’t mean that I could read his mood. “It’s still not happening. Today.”
Today.
It sounded like it had physically pained him to add that last part. I clung to it. “When?”
Sadly, he didn’t answer. No, he made a whole show of turning back to his food. He stuffed his mouth full of palak paneer before I could blink. I didn’t know how I felt about it.
I should probably think about it when I wasn’t in the same room as him, though that implied I could leave without putting my foot in my mouth again.
I was being realistic here. The chance of me acting like someone with functioning brain cells around him? Clearly close to zero.