Part 14 Yours Faithfully
Part Fourteen: Yours Faithfully
“Bloody stupid thing to write! Makes me sound like an idiot!” Joe crumpled up a sheet of notepaper and tossed it on the floor alongside his bed.
He’d long since given up aiming for the rubbish bin; the damn thing was already overflowing with failed attempts.
Crushed rejects littered the bed too—standing out, stark and white against the black cotton sheets.
Joe slumped back against the pillows he’d propped up against his headboard.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
He’d come up with some pretty inventive ways to torture willing masochists over the years.
Almost all of his methods had involved either some kind of leather or a substantial amount of clattering metal chains.
Now, Joe knew that he’d missed a trick. There was apparently no limit to the amount of pain, frustration, or temporary psychosis that could be achieved by giving a man a pen and a piece of blank paper. Even the most experienced pain-slut could be brought to his knees by this.
Joe took a deep breath and let it out very slowly before he realised that he was now copying Scott’s method for trying to stave off a panic attack. He immediately straightened up and squared his shoulders.
That was no way for a dom to behave. A sub was allowed to have doubts and let on when he was nervous. A dom had to keep it together. Who could expect anyone to hand over control of his life to a man who couldn’t even write a damn letter?
Joe knew what he wanted to say. He knew all the things he had to explain to Scott, and what Scott needed to understand. So why was it so sodding difficult to put those things into words on a page?
More importantly, how the hell was he ever going to talk Scott down off the ledge and convince him to give their…their relationship another shot if he couldn’t even put this first part of his plan into action?
Joe shook his head and picked up his notepad one more time.
* * * * *
“H-hello.” To Scott’s surprise, his voice didn’t come out in an embarrassingly squeaky soprano. He almost sounded sane.
Joe turned away from whatever it was he’d been doing behind the bar. The club was closed. Not a single customer stood in front of the long, dark counter. There was no music, no commotion. The silence was eerie. A shiver ran down Scott’s spine.
Their eyes met. Joe appeared so serious it would have been scary if he hadn’t still looked as hot as hell. Scott swallowed rapidly. Somehow, Joe managed to make a simple black T-shirt and jeans seem like a statement of his ability to do a whole host of very interesting things with leather.
Scott cleared his throat. “Your t-text said you w-w-wanted to see me.” And he hadn’t been capable of disobeying a summons from Joe.
Forget all his careful plans to avoid Joe until his heart had recovered and his cock had learnt how to respond to less intimidating guys.
The moment he’d realised who the text was from, Scott had been Joe’s to command.
“Sit down.” Joe pointed to the far side of the room.
Almost all of the chairs and barstools were up on top of the tables, presumably so the floor could be cleaned more easily. Only one chair remained down; it had obviously been placed there for Scott’s use.
Pain stabbed through Scott’s mind. Joe couldn’t have chosen a seat further away from the bar if he’d tried. To be called close only to be banished to what felt like miles away the very next second—it was hardly the joyous reunion Scott had subconsciously prayed for.
Regardless of the confusion racing through his mind, Scott walked across the room and lowered himself onto the seat. It stood alongside an empty table. Scott rested his hands on it and tried not to fidget. Without saying a word, Joe rounded the bar and headed toward him. Scott’s heart rate doubled.
He rose to his feet. “Shall I g-g-get another chair d-down for you?”
“No.”
Scott’s backside hit the chair again.
Joe came closer still, until he stood directly opposite Scott, on the other side of the small table.
Scott had to tilt back his head to stare up at Joe’s face. He looked good, perfect, just as he always did. So calm, so confident, so exactly what Scott wanted and needed in his life…
Reaching into his back pocket, Joe took out an envelope and placed it on the table.
“I—”
“No.” Joe held up a hand. “Don’t talk. Just read it.” He turned on his heel and marched back to his place behind the bar. Even after he’d rounded the long wooden barrier, he kept his back to Scott.
For half a minute, all Scott could do was look from the nape of Joe’s neck, to the envelope on the table, and back again. Finally, his gaze settled on the letter and stayed there.
Scott.
The word was scrawled across the front of the envelope, just like most of the other notes Joe had given to him while they’d been playing that silly little game, passing messages back and forth like teenagers in class.
“Don’t just sit there, Scott. I told you to read it.”
Scott jerked his head up. He looked toward the bar, but Joe still had his back to him. If Joe had snuck a glance in his direction, Scott had missed it.
This time, Joe’s order sunk deeper into Scott’s mind. He picked up the envelope, opened it, and took the single piece of paper from inside. Closing his eyes, Scott took one more deep breath before forcing himself to obey Joe’s command. Read.
He was used to seeing just a few words scattered across the page. Joe wasn’t one to waste syllables. He’d never used one word more than was required to get his orders across.
Come to that, during all their time together, Scott had never noticed Joe paying any particular attention to things like making sure his handwriting was legible. The writing in this message was printed very carefully, as if to make sure there could be no mistaking its contents.
The changes unsettled Scott, but he gradually made himself look at each word in turn rather than the overall picture they created on the page.
Scott,
I’m not big on words. You know that already. I’m not a huge fan of buggering about either. So, here are the facts.
I’m a good dom. Not perfect, but good. I’ll set my skills in the playroom against anyone’s.
I like being in control. You like being told what to do. We’re good together.
You’re a great sub. You don’t have much confidence, but you have damn fine instincts—and a lot more balls than you give yourself credit for. You’ve learnt a lot about kink over the last few months, too.
I want you to belong to me. I’ve wanted that for weeks. If I’d known you thought this was a casual thing for me, I’d have told you that you’re a fool a long time ago. I’d have to be an idiot to want to walk away from something as good as we could have together, and I’m no idiot.
If the idea that I wasn’t committed to this was the only reason you ran away, great. We’re sorted.
I’m not shy about putting on a show, but I’m not the kind of dom who likes to share, so you don’t need to worry about me lending you to other guys or any of that bull. And I don’t screw around behind my sub’s back either; I haven’t played with anyone else since we did our first scene.
If there’s another reason you’re not happy, if there’s something else you want, you need to tell me so I can sort it out for you. If there’s something you’re scared of, spit it out.
So, yeah. Think about it, and tell me what you need.
Yours faithfully,
Joe.
Scott set the letter carefully down on the table.
Yours “faithfully”.
It would have sounded weird and formal if Scott hadn’t been so sure that Joe meant the word the way it was used everywhere except at the bottom of a letter. Faithful—Joe was promising to be faithful to him.
Scott tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs seemed to shake within his ribcage.
The idea of having no relationship with Joe, of never exchanging anything more than a casual hello with Joe, was frightening.
Taking a risk and trying to get a real relationship with him was more akin to terrifying.
He ran his fingers over the letter, not re-reading any part of it; just reassuring himself that it was real. Joe had really said all those things to him. This was truly happening, whether he was ready for it or not.
“Well?
Scott jerked to his feet.
Damn, but Joe could walk quietly when he wanted to. He now stood directly opposite Scott, casually drying his hands on one of the cloths he used to wipe down the bar.
When his fingers were dry enough for his satisfaction, Joe slipped the thing through one of the belt loops on his trousers and folded his arms across his chest in that pose Scott loved so much. And Scott just stood there like an idiot.
“Are you going to run away?” Joe demanded.
Scott shook his head.
“Then sit down.”
He hadn’t been given permission to stand up. Scott’s knees buckled the moment he realised that.
“Do you have anything to say?” Joe asked.
Scott cleared his throat and ran his fingers over the letter again as he flattened it out a little more. The envelope had obviously been stored in Joe’s pocket for quite some time. The creases were pretty much ironed into it.
“Are you g-going to sit d-d-down?” he blurted out.
Joe glared at Scott for a few seconds before lifting a chair off one of the neighbouring tables, turning it around and straddling it. “Now, talk.”
Scott didn’t know why he’d thought Joe would be less intimidating while sitting.
Joe really didn’t need to loom to make Scott as nervous as hell.
Between Joe’s presence and the contents of the letter, Scott wasn’t sure he’d make it through any sort of conversation without having a nervous breakdown.
“Th-thank you, sir,” Scott finally blurted out. “For the l-l-letter, I mean.” He stared at it for a few moments.