Chapter 9 Ev #2
Danny. He trailed his fingers down my scalp, brushing through my hair.
I bet it was one of those things he wouldn’t admit to, but it helped, so I took advantage and leaned into the touch.
He had moved close enough that I could lean against his leg.
Maybe it was weird, and I was way more touch-starved than anyone suspected. I’d take it, though.
“You did.” Sir Ismael took a deep breath. “Did it hurt a lot?”
I shivered at the mocking tone. “Yes, Sir.”
He just hummed in acknowledgement. “Would you do it again if I asked?”
Another whimper slipped out. “Yes, Sir.”
My heart raced. There had to be something wrong with me.
I knew there wasn’t. I was friends with masochists who took much more pain than I did. I knew there was nothing wrong with them, which meant that it applied to me, too. It just toyed with my head. I was unable to let go of the idea—and every dwindling emotion that came with it.
“That’s right.” Sir Ismael chuckled. “Are you with your friend?”
“Not t-the same one.”
Danny tightened his hold on my hair. It only lasted a second. I bet he was curious. Or maybe he’d just gotten nervous that I was about to out him or something.
I would never.
“Your group of friends is such a curious thing,” he mused.
“Sir.”
Something broke.
I couldn’t explain it.
One moment, I was holding my breath, lulled to a sense of safety by Danny’s fingers on my hair and Sir Ismael’s words.
The next, my breath hitched once more, and my voice came out high-pitched, and all the tears I’d been holding were slipping out in sobs and hiccups and the most embarrassing display I’d made of myself to date.
I heard Danny curse to himself, but it was muted. Metaphorical water clogged my ears. My fingers clutched the phone tight.
“Breathe.” The command Sir Ismael gave was clear. I couldn’t do it, though, not well enough. My attempt was choppy, ragged, wrong. “Tell me what you need.”
“I…” Air wasn’t quite reaching my lungs. It was illogical, but it wasn’t happening. “W-what’s my other punishment?”
I glanced up. Danny looked confused. There was no way I was going to be able to look him in the eye ever again. That was if he didn’t call everyone and get my membership suspended or something.
“I don’t think punishments are a good idea for the two of us going forward.”
Everything quieted then.
“What.”
The thing I hated the most about this monster of a home, aside from where it came from and what it symbolized, was how stupidly soundproofed the whole thing was.
I hated the silence. Hated hearing every heartbeat as if it was amplified by a speaker because there was nothing else to distract from it.
“I can’t dole out discipline when I can’t predict the result, can I?”
“B-but…”
But I liked his discipline. I liked how it felt like a leash anchoring me in place. I liked that I knew I was giving him this much power over me, that my actions would have consequences, and he was going to make sure I was the best version of myself.
“Keep breathing for me,” he instructed next. As if he hadn’t just turned my world upside down, and I wasn’t in the midst of processing whether or not it made me pathetic that he had managed such a feat. “I want to keep you as my sub, piggy. I simply don’t want to hurt you beyond what I can heal.”
The words made sense, I supposed.
They sounded rational.
They still left me feeling abandoned.
I was barely aware when I ended the call.
Any other day, I’d grow anxious. It would be a reason for punishment.
It wouldn’t now, though. Now, after I gathered the courage to ask someone for help with a scene.
After I’d thoroughly embarrassed myself in front of him.
After I’d convinced myself that Sir Ismael was the real deal, and I’d been willing to risk shit with Santos.
I ran the back of my hand over my eyes.
At least, the shock of the words had made me stop crying.
“Uh, I’m sorry?” I cleared my throat. I couldn’t look at Danny. Maybe I could embarrass myself a tiny bit more and ask him to drive me to Santos? He would know where they were. That would be too needy, though. “That you had to…”
“Stop it.” Danny sighed. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, and we can talk about it, yeah?”
I glanced up at him first. I’d never seen Danny take charge.
I’d seen him obey León and taunt him. I’d seen him ribbing me and every other sub who got too close, looking for a reaction in the same way that León did.
I’d seen him switch things up a bit more with Carlos.
I hadn’t seen him serious, or like he was now, his jaw clenched tight as he kept fixing up my hair like that was going to make any of this easier to deal with.
“León is going to fucking kill me,” he grumbled before helping us both to our feet.
My knees threatened to buckle, but I needed some dignity left.
Today had been the worst idea I’d had in years.
That was saying something.
“Why?”
I frowned. Things didn’t feel too present, but something told me that focusing on the conversation might help go through the motions. The motions of Danny pushing a bottle of lotion into my hands. Of him rummaging through my wardrobe for clothes to give me.
“Because I should’ve known,” he hissed. “Fuck. Do you have anything that’s like…not slutty? No offense.”
I snorted. It was kind of funny, watching him grow antsy. This was not something he would’ve ever volunteered to do.
“Uh, Santos’s wardrobe?”
He slept over here every night, but he hadn’t moved his things over or anything. There was technically room, but it wouldn’t make sense when there were enough wardrobes in this place that we could have one for each season. Maybe even color-code them.
“Okay.”
At least I knew Santos wouldn’t be pissed if he walked in and I was wearing his clothes. He might get a bit growly and possessive in that way he did that he was terrible at keeping under wraps, but that would be it.
I thought.
Could I really trust what I thought anymore? I never thought Sir Ismael was going to flake because I followed the rules. Because I became too much.
I winced.
Danny took no time getting back with a hoodie and a pair of joggers that would probably be three times my size. I didn’t care. I just grabbed them and put them on and pretended going commando was a completely natural thing I did every day.
This was all so unsettling, and pathetic, and embarrassing, and the fact that I was starting to sound like a broken record only made it worse.
Should I get mad at Sir Ismael? Had he done anything wrong? Or was it all me? Partly me?
“All right.” Danny ran both hands through his hair while bouncing on his feet. He’d waited until I was decent, and he texted someone on his phone, and then he was all back on me. “Sit down.”
As if he was a puppeteer, I let my ass slump down on the mattress, barely softening the fall with my hands.
“Great.” I thought he was going to sit next to me, but he sat on the carpeted floor instead, his side leaning against the bed. I supposed it was fair. I’d never seen him sitting down properly anyway. “What do you want in a partner, Ev?”
My heart went back to beating fast. “Uh?”
“Like…” He licked his lips, toying with one of his piercings before he glanced back up at me. “What’s your type? Do you want someone more nurturing, someone more strict, someone more playful, someone who’s more of an equal…”
I brought my feet up to the bed and wrapped my arms around my knees. “Strict.”
I needed someone like that. Someone like Sir Ismael.
“Okay.” He nodded. “How come?”
“W-what do you mean?”
My skin itched the longer he stared at me. We didn’t have heart-to-hearts like this. It wasn’t a thing. I wasn’t comfortable just baring all my wounds to him when he had already seen the worst of it.
“León falls under the strict category,” he pointed out. “He didn’t let me wear his collar until I could answer that question.”
“O-okay.”
“So, how come you want a strict partner?” He pushed. “You know most people in this century would run away from that adjective.”
“Not me.”
“Not me either.” Danny shrugged. “But why?”
Words stuck to my throat. Words I couldn’t even put together in my head. I just knew that I needed someone strict. I needed someone to lay the law, to mold me into the sub I wanted to be.
“Why do you?”
Danny played with his piercing some more. He wasn’t one to say the first thing that got through his mind, so I didn’t think much of the lapse in time.
“Because it turns me the fuck on when I’m put underneath someone,” Danny snorted. “Because I get off the hardest when I feel like I have no say in the matter.”
I frowned. “So it’s all sexual.”
“It wasn’t at first,” he admitted, “hence why León wouldn’t collar me.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “You can’t search for a Dom to be your therapist, Ev. Or to fill any other role that’s not the one of your partner. Spice things up, sure, but at the end of the day? Your Dom is your Dom, your therapist is your therapist, and…y’know. That.”
I did not know.
“I don’t need therapy,” I said instead.
“I do.” Danny shrugged again. “I wasn’t implying you did, therapist is the first thing that came to mind.”
“Okay.”
It was not okay.
What else could I say, though?