Chapter 13 – Richard #2
Getting into my car, I start the engine and hit the steering wheel in frustration. Everything was going great, and now it feels like it’s all turning to shit. I didn’t mean to argue with David, but jealousy has a way of making you do irrational things.
Pulling out of the car park, I take my time driving home.
I considered going for a drive, just to get lost in the landscape, but I have no idea when Vincent is coming to see me, so I just need to get home.
Knowing I have no option but to go home has me itching to drive as fast as I can, but we really don’t need me wrapping my car around a tree, or worse, getting stopped by the police, and making headlines for being arrested. That would not be great for the team.
Far too quickly, the gates to my home loom in front of me, and I’m tapping the code into the keypad. The gates open slowly as I move the car forward, and I’m parking up outside of the house. Opening the front door, I head straight upstairs, needing to get out of these clothes.
My bedroom smells like David, his aftershave still lingering in the air.
Ignoring the smell, I storm into the bathroom and turn the shower on, and wait for the water to get hot.
I need to feel it on my skin. Stripping off my clothes, I stuff them into the laundry basket, and step underneath the water, feeling the tingles as the water hits my skin.
I can feel the water washing away the day.
Clearing my head. Giving me the clarity that I was lacking in the office.
Turning off the water, I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and pad into the bedroom. Going over to the chest of drawers, I pull out some grey joggers, and a plain white t-shirt. I slip them on, not bothering with underwear, and make my way back downstairs to wait for Vincent.
A knock on my front door jolts me awake, I must have dozed off. Looking at my watch, I see that I’ve been home just over an hour, which means that this must be Vincent, plus, other than David, he’s the only other person to have the code to my gate.
Taking a deep breath to compose myself, I go to the front door and open it to see Vincent standing on the doorstep with a nice bottle of whiskey in his hands.
“Here,” he states, thrusting it towards me, as he walks into the house. “I think we’re going to need this.”
“Please, come in, so nice to see you again,” I say, closing the door behind him.
“So funny.”
“I’ll go and get some glasses. Go make yourself comfortable.” And I hand him back the bottle of whiskey as Vincent heads over to my living room.
“Maybe we need to talk first. It might be a little too early for drinks,” Vincent states.
“It’s five o’ clock somewhere, right? Plus, I need this.”
“Me too.”
My living room is my other favourite room in my home, after my bedroom.
When decorating, I took my time, needing it to feel inviting and cosy, all at once.
The room is dominated by a large grey wall that has a fireplace in the middle, with glass doors on either side that lead onto a patio.
It makes the fireplace the main focal point.
The rest of the area is taken up with a large L shaped couch in a light stone colour to contrast against the dark grey of the wall, but to add some pops of colour, I have thrown in a few odd green cushions.
In front of the couch I placed a large wooden table with hidden drawers for storage, and finally, I thought that I might need some extra seating, so I placed a single chair the same colour green as the cushions on one side of the fireplace.
Vincent takes a seat in the corner of the couch next to the chair, which is his normal spot when he comes over.
I go grab us some whiskey glasses I keep in a cabinet at the back of the living room.
Going over to Vincent, I stand in front of him and hold the glasses out.
Vincent pops the cork and pours some out for us, before putting the bottle on the floor.
I hand him a glass and then take a seat in the chair.
I think I’m going to need to be close to Vincent for this conversation.
“The fifteen,” I say over to him, confirming the age of the whiskey, as I take a sip, enjoying the burn as it travels down my throat.
“Yeah.”
“Does this mean you’re staying the night?” I ask.
“Nah, I’ll get picked up later.”
Looking over to Vincent, this is how I remember our friendship. Enjoying a drink. No trials or tribulations. Just two friends together, and I hope that by the end of this conversation, Vincent will understand me better, and we can get back to what we had.
“Rich, I’m worried about you,” Vincent voices, and I was wondering how this conversation was going to start.
“Vin, I’m fine. I promise you.”
“Then, please, explain what the fuck is going on with you, and this.” And he points to the love bite on the side of my neck.
“I was marked,” I tell him, truthly.
“Marked?”
“Yes,” I confirm, and I lift my t-shirt to show him the other marks on my chest.
“What the fuck. Who, and why?” Vincent asks, but there is no denying the confusion in his voice.
“Vin, these were done by my lover. Actually, by the man I love.”
“This isn’t love.” Vincent states, and I’m not surprised. I knew he wouldn’t understand, but I am going to have to try.
“For me, yes, it is. I asked for these to be done. To be claimed by this man, and he’s the only man that I have asked to do this.”
“But…” Vincent starts, but isn’t able, or is unsure, how to continue that sentence, and so, he takes a sip of his whiskey.
“I’m going to tell you something now, and I need you to try and understand. I’m only doing this to try and get us back to how we were before.”
“Okay.”
“I’m different from you. You were happy to go clubbing, but I was never going to find what I needed at clubs. The sex I needed, or need, is special in a way.” I pause, just to gauge him, and he seems to be listening. “Vin, I’m in a Dom/Sub relationship.”
“You like to dominate people?” Vincent asks, which, at least, means he understands what I’m saying.
“Actually, no. I like to be dominated.”
“Oh.” And he takes another sip of his whiskey.
“So, the service that you were so disgusted by was to help me. I could have sex the way I needed, in safety. If I met someone in a club, even with an NDA there was no way I could guarantee that someone wouldn’t sell my story.
Every time I went there, I was thinking about the security of Montague Racing and you. ”
“Me?”
“I wouldn’t do anything that would affect your company, your dream. I would’ve never forgiven myself, and having my name splashed all over the papers along with how I liked to be tied to a bed, would do that.”
“Please tell me you don’t have some room here that contains whips or wooden crosses? Because that is something I really don’t need to know.”
“Oh, my playroom?” I reply, and watch the horror wash over Vincent’s face that makes me laugh, and I have to put him out of his misery. “Vincent, I don’t have a playroom. I’m not that type of sub, promise. I just like to be tied to beds and told what to do.”
“Oh, right. Stop. I don’t need to know anymore. But thank you for explaining. Sorry, I was a dick.” Vincent pauses, and then looks over to me, “but this man, you trust him not to sell your story?”
“Completely.”
“How can you be so sure? Everyone has a price?”
“Because this man has just as much to lose as me if our preferences come out.” Which isn’t a lie.
“Are you dating an actor?” And, for the first time since the conversation started, Vincent smirks, and I sigh with relief. I think that he finally understands me.
“Why an actor? It could be someone in our racing community,” I counter.
“No, I don’t think so. I can’t picture anyone being like that. And you said that they travelled a lot. If it was someone I knew, you would be making more excuses to be at races.”
A bubble of laughter escapes me, because I can see Vincent’s logic, but he has no idea. I can’t wait to tell David what he said, he’s going to find this hilarious. But, at least, this also means that we’re going to be in the clear for a few months.
“So, when am I finally going to meet the man that makes you happy?” Vincent asks.
“Soon. We talked, and he’s in the middle of a project.” Again, not a lie, it’s just that David’s project is to win the world championship. “It will take him to the end of the year, which is great for me, as it means I can concentrate on Otis.”
“Oh,” Vincent suddenly states. “Bring him to my New Year’s Eve party, unless there is some celebrity party that he needs to attend. Having a famous actor there would be cool.”
“I never confirmed he was an actor,” I say over to him, but I don’t think that Vincent is listening to me.
“You didn’t have to. I know you, my friend.”
And, for the first time in months, we laugh like before. Vincent may not understand my preferences, but he understands me. I’m also laughing at the shock that will be on Vincent’s face in a few months when I introduce him to David, my boyfriend, my Dom. That is going to be a priceless moment.