Chapter Eight - 8. The Loser
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Loser
What was he talking about? His face gave me no clues, expression wiped blank. Too blank.
Then I realised. “Piss off,” I said, elbowing him in the side. “You came before me, we both know it.”
He rubbed his side. “You played dirty.”
“D-dirty?” I spluttered. “How, exactly?”
“The tears —”
“That wasn’t on purpose! Do you think I can cry on command? I’m not that good an actor.”
“No. You wear your emotions pretty much on your sleeve.”
I frowned, because I didn’t think that was a good thing. “You don’t.”
He shifted, stretching both arms up and resting them behind his head. It exposed his underarms and I found myself staring at his armpit hair. I sort of wanted to touch it.
“Sometimes I worry I’m obvious,” he said.
I jerked my gaze to his face. “You? Worrying about something?”
He gave me a sideways look. “I know you think I’m perfect, but I’m human too.”
“I don’t think you’re perfect.” I paused. “Okay, maybe a little bit. It’s why I can’t stand you.”
I thought he’d shoot me a cocky, lazy smile in response, but instead, his lips flattened.
I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, scratching my tummy. The room smelled like sex and we were on a dirty bed and I should’ve been itching to shower, but I couldn’t make myself get up.
“Holy fuck,” I murmured, rolling to face him and propping myself up on an elbow. “I won.”
He gave me a concerned look. “We established that.”
“I won,” I repeated. “You’re my slave.” I laughed. Then I laughed some more, sounding slightly hysterical.
“I think that’s my cue —” Taylor started to roll away, but I yanked him back, and he landed on the bed, his face right below mine.
“Are you starting now?” he asked.
Right. The winner had the loser for an entire night. “No. My dick’s out for tonight.”
Something flashed through his eyes. “You’re going to make me have sex with you?”
I made a face. “You make me sound like such a sleaze. Besides, that’s what you did. And also,” I said, loudly, “what else am I supposed to make you do? Go on a date with me?”
He scowled. “No. You could make me, I don’t know, clean the entire apartment. Oh wait, I do that already.”
“I could make you do my homework,” I mused.
“How unoriginal.”
“I could make you do my homework, naked,” I said, then pointed at my desk. “Right there. And I’d watch you.”
“What the hell, Archie.”
“Oh, I know. I’ll make you cook me dinner, wearing nothing but a teensy tiny apron, and you’d serve it to me, and then you’d kneel on the floor watching me eat like my very own pet dog —”
Taylor whacked me and I whacked him back and soon I was wrestling, him rolling on top of me. “You’re so fucking weird,” he said, gaze flicking from my eyes to my lips. Then he kissed me.
We hadn’t kissed while having sex, I realised. That was probably a good thing. I didn’t want to get confused.
We kissed some more, then Taylor rolled back to his spot, looking up at the ceiling. I stared at his profile. This close to him, I could see his supposed flaws — faded freckles, stray hairs under his eyebrows, his pores — but he still seemed…I don’t know. Untouchable.
“What night will you have me?” he asked.
“I need to check my schedule.”
Taylor huffed. We lay side by side, and I didn’t have to look down to know his hand was right by mine, our pinkie fingers almost touching. It was like I could feel the heat radiating off him.
“I should shower and then head to bed.”
Right. His bed.
He glanced at me, waiting.
“Okay,” I said.
He seemed to be waiting for something more.
“Go shower first. I’ll go after.”
After a second, he shoved himself out of bed. I thought about commenting that he didn’t need to undress to wash — life hack — but I was sort of distracted by the flex of his hamstrings.
I woke up with a start, naked and groggy, face pressed into a pillow, and realised I never made it to the bathroom last night. I’d listened to the rush of the shower through the walls, imagining Taylor standing under the water, hair wet and flat against his forehead, and then fallen asleep.
I pushed myself out of bed and winced, cupping my backside.
Last night had been harder than the first time, deeper too, since I’d been on my hands and knees.
After showering, scrubbing at my face to get rid of the sleep creases on my cheek, and wrapping a towel around my waist, I found Taylor in the living room.
Predictably, he was shovelling brown muck into his mouth. He tensed when he met my eyes.
“What’s with the grim look?” I asked.
“What’s with your grim look?” he shot back like a six year old.
“I asked first.”
“My entire body aches. Do you know how much work it is, to keep going like that? I’m shit at cardio.”
A laugh escaped me. “Boo-hoo. Do you know how much my ass hurts?”
“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“It was worth it.” I flopped onto the couch behind him, my towel fluttering. I didn’t miss the way Taylor watched, his gaze crawling up my thigh like a physical touch.
“Are you eating mush again?” I asked.
He passed me the jar and spoon. “Wanna try?”
I took it against my better judgement. As I brought the spoon to my mouth, I paused. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“I had my tongue in your mouth last night.”
Touché. I popped the spoon in my mouth and actually, it wasn’t that bad. Mostly it just tasted like chocolate protein powder. The oats didn’t have the strange texture I expected.
I passed it back. Taylor watched me closely.
“It’s fine,” I hedged.
“I can make you some, if you want. It’s not much more work to make two.”
“That’s okay,” I said automatically. I didn’t want him to go to the trouble.
Taylor stabbed the oats with his spoon a few times, eyes on the food. “Have you checked your schedule yet?” he murmured.
“Huh?”
“Have you checked your schedule yet?” he repeated, almost shouting this time.
I pretended he’d deafened me, bringing my hands to my ears. “Not yet.” I smirked. “Why? Eager to be my slave?”
I suddenly understood why Taylor had worn that shit-eating grin when he won. There was something irresistible about the power. Taylor King belonged to me.
“No,” he snapped. “I just don’t want this to hang over me.”
“Imagine how I felt.”
“I didn’t make you wait that long,” he said.
“Right,” I drawled, remembering the two days of anticip— torture. It’d definitely been torture. “You were too busy buying that stupid collar.” I leaned against the arm of the couch, propping my head on my palm, gazing at him.
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m thinking about what I’ll make you wear.”
He made a show of huffing, and jerkily got up to his feet, even though he still had half of his breakfast to go. “Just don’t take forever, alright?”
I made Taylor wait five days. It wasn’t on purpose, but the weekdays were full of classes, club commitments and soccer, and I wanted to dedicate a full day to ordering Taylor around.
“When does the night start?” I mused on Saturday morning, leaning against the kitchen island, sipping a coffee. Taylor was scrubbing dishes with a scowl. He’d worn a thunderous expression for the past five days.
“When the sun sets,” he said, voice dripping with duh, that’s obvious.
“Damn,” I replied, setting my mug down and stretching my arms above my head. “And I had so many cute activities planned.”
“Cute activities? Like…a date?”
He looked horrified and I bit back a laugh. I wasn’t sure what he was so worried about. Did he think he was so irresistible that I wouldn’t be able to help myself from doing romantic stuff with him? Come on.
“Kinda,” I replied, wanting to wind him up. “Y’know. Just the stuff couples do.”
He was holding a porcelain plate so hard, I thought it might shatter. “We said it’d be for one night.” Once again, I forced myself not to laugh at his strained attempt at being diplomatic.
“That’s a pity. Especially because most of the hours would be wasted. Sleeping,” I clarified.
“You could force me to stay awake.”
“I think that’s a war crime.”
I hadn’t intended to be funny, but Taylor suddenly laughed. I stared, mouth open. I’d never seen him laugh like that before. It softened his face, rounding his cheeks, and I wanted to reach out and tug on them.
“I’ll be generous. We can amend the conditions,” he said, once he’d sobered. “Nighttime’s twelve hours from, say, seven at night to seven in the morning. We can shift the window from midday to midnight.”
I rolled my coffee mug between my hands. “What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing. Like I said, I’m generous.”
“Yeah, right. You’d never be that nice.”
He rinsed the plate and slowly dried it. I suspected he was trying to drive me crazy, but I patiently waited him out. “I get a safe word,” he said finally.
“Dude, do you think I’m a monster? I’m not going to do anything awful.” Yes, I loved the idea of getting to boss him around. But I wasn’t evil. I’d never make him do something he didn’t want to do. Especially when it came to sex.
Because we were going to have sex. Both of us knew it, even if we weren’t going to say it aloud.
“I don’t think you will,” he said calmly. “I just want it for my peace of mind.”
“I mean, sure. But you could just say no.”
His gaze was steady on mine. “Slaves don’t say no.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Part of me wanted to push, because the idea of Taylor doing something he didn’t want to was icky. But at the same time, I thought I knew where he was coming from. Frankly, it was easier to do things when you told yourself you had no choice.
It was like buying a cake that was on sale, because it’d expire the following day. So you got to lay on the couch and stuff your face without guilt or second thoughts because you had no choice but to finish it by midnight, otherwise you’d be wasting food.
If you were someone’s slave, you had no choice but to stay close to them, to talk to them, to kiss them, to get on your knees for them, to fall into bed with them…
“Okay,” I said. “It’s a deal.”
Taylor hid in his room for the rest of the morning, probably to savour his last few hours of freedom. At twelve on the dot, he came out, wearing a grey cotton t-shirt that made his shoulders and arms look good, dark jeans, and black runners.
“You look nice,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious in my oversized shirt, sweat-pants and hair I let air-dry.
“One of us has to look good.” His face did something weird as soon as he said it and he looked down at his feet.
“Right.” I patted my pockets to check I had my phone, wallet and keys. “Let’s go.”
Taylor was right on my heels as we left the dorm. He hovered as I locked the door behind us, and I inhaled something clean and almost sweet.
I turned to him, almost banging my head into his. He was way too close.
“Are you wearing…cologne?” I asked.
“No,” he snapped, crossing his arms. “Hurry up.”