Chapter 30
Vincent
I should be working, I thought.
It was more entertaining to watch Charlie as he flipped back and forth between a couple of books and the printed pages. His tongue snuck out a time or two as he thought over words.
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, three books opened at different pages, highlighters and one pen and the printed checklists surrounding him. Everything had its place.
I noticed that as Charlie moved, precise, deliberate, always within reach of what he needed. His focus stayed on the task, but every time I shifted, every breath or movement I made, his eyes flicked to me. Quick. Instinctive. Like he was tuned to my rhythm without even trying.
It was strangely captivating.
Not because I needed anything from him at that moment—because I didn’t. But because he was attuned to me in a way no one else had ever been.
Charlie moved like he was built to respond to me. And I wasn’t sure what to do with that kind of devotion.
He didn’t know me enough past the surface, and I was the same with him.
I had layers that were hard to understand. Layers that got me to unveil my own needs and desires under what I portrayed myself as in public.
Moore knew most of my layers. He had to since he was the one who encouraged most of my findings on kink and life. If it hadn’t been for my best friend, I’d have had a very lonely life that didn’t come with pleasure.
Not that I wanted a certain pleasure yet. Or at all.
I found my own pleasure in watching. My needs were built on my partner’s own needs. And in time, Charlie would see that. He’d learn me by letting me learn him.
“Did you need something, Sir?” Charlie asked, setting down the pen. He didn’t look at me, but I guess he probably didn’t need to.
“I’m just watching you.”
My words caused his cheeks to warm.
“I find you intriguing.” I went on. “The way you move; the way you think. The way you work.”
“It’s the way I’ve always done things, Sir. Structure and rules are what make me a good Omega for you.”
For once, I didn’t think that was a robotic answer.
I knew he thrived on structure. And of course, the rules went hand in hand with one another.
“You are a very good Omega, Charlie. I couldn’t ask for more of you.” At my words, his shoulders relaxed a bit more, like he wasn’t sure he was good.
“How much more do you have?”
“Three more, Sir. Then I’ll go over it again to make sure.”
Of course he would.
I may have added another page to the pile. I wanted to know his preferences on rewards and punishment. More to get a read on his mindset on the subject matter.
It was late afternoon, and I was impressed by how thorough he was with every item on that list. He’d also made little notes to the sides, and on a single sheet of notebook paper, too.
To say I was impressed was an understatement.
I finally got my gaze pulled away from him and returned to my own work. I was, thankfully, almost finished for the day, too.
Another thirty minutes went by, which felt ten times longer than that, before I finished my spreadsheet of numbers. It was the perfect timing, too, as Charlie was just cleaning up.
“Are you good with numbers?” I asked, closing all my tabs on the computer.
“For the most part, yes. I was required to take accounting classes. We all are. Alphas sometimes want an Omega to keep track of money for businesses and the like.” He glanced at me, stacking the books in a neat pile.
“But not all can grasp the subject or patterns.” Like Adrian. He was horrible at keeping track of anything, especially numbers. “Anyways, I’ll take a look at those papers while you find us a snack to munch on.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Charlie put the books back exactly where he found them, then set the highlighters, pen, and papers on my desk.
Glancing over the papers as he left the office, I wasn’t too surprised by his answers. Green on many things that I enjoyed. Cockwarming, obviously. Keeling. Having orders. Being in charge of taking care of the house. Answering phones, if need be.
Pretty much every task a slave would do, and more.
A few yellows, such as yard work, orgasm control, enemas, and being tied up. There were notes, too, with some.
Green for garden. Yellow for mowing or trimming trees. I don’t like being sweaty.
I hadn’t expected anything less than perfection from the Omega.
I made a mental note that he’d earned a reward once we talked through his answers.
Charlie didn’t take long. He returned with a plate of snacks and two water bottles, movements practiced and precise.
He placed them on the desk without a sound.
Then stepped back and knelt before me. There was no hesitation in doing so.
It was a natural submission and my heart soared.
He chose his action, and that spoke more of his trust than anything else ever could.
He was slowly starting to not just trust me, but trust his own wants and desires.
“Do you have any questions about these?” My eyes flickered to the papers before going back to Charlie.
“No, Sir. The books had good details and information on everything.”
“One thing that’s not there, and I really should add it,” I reached for the pen, and brought one of the pages closer. “Is hand-feeding you. What color would that be for you?”
“Green, Sir.” His voice was almost breathy as he spoke, like he wanted nothing more than to kneel at my feet and let me feed him.
I wrote the item down, then used the green highlighter across the words.
“We have a lot of things in common. But first, let's eat. You didn’t eat much lunch earlier.” Given, Charlie had his mind elsewhere during lunch.
Charlie edged closer with each bite I offered—cracker, cheese, nothing elaborate. By the third, he was leaning gently against my leg, breath even, shoulders no longer braced.
His mind had quieted. I could feel it in the way he settled. Not out of obedience, but out of comfort. He was content. And for someone like Charlie, that meant everything.
Although this alone would have been a great reward, Charlie would get something else. Something he picked, verbally.
Eventually, the snack was gone, leaving Charlie leaning against my leg, content to never move again.
I gave him a couple of extra minutes before pulling my hand away from his hair. He slowly looked up, blinking the world back into existence.
“Are these answers things you want, not what you think I’d want?” I started, knowing the Omega well enough about how his brain worked.
“Yes, Sir.” His answer had more to it shining in his eyes. I waited, hoping he’d speak the words I already knew he'd say. He didn’t disappoint. “You are green for everything on that list.”
“Green for certain partners. Each person I am in a relationship with has different needs. .” I dipped my chin, meeting his eyes. “Once we both can better read on each other-“ Although, I knew Charlie read me better than any partner ever had before – “Then I’ll have another checklist.”
“Sir? May I speak freely?” Charlie’s voice was careful, but not afraid.
I met his gaze, letting a small smile rise—just enough to show teeth, just enough to reassure.
“Always,” I said. “Your voice is never off-limits here.”
“Can I look at all the checklists? I know you don’t trust me to answer truthfully, but…” His eyes flickered away as he fought to find his words. “The things on those papers were easy. I’ve done a few with clients before, and I can handle whatever you want to do to me.”
Oh sweet boy, I thought as my hand found purchase atop his head once again.
“I’m so proud of you for speaking your thoughts. That’s a huge progress from just last week.”
“You like to hear my thoughts, Sir.”
“Yes, I do,” I said, and I was beginning to appreciate how often he asked. “What happens between us will be consensual. Every moment, every scene—you’ll be fully present and fully willing. If something feels off, even slightly, you won’t continue. That’s where the color system comes in.”
I gestured to the highlighters. “Green means comfort or enjoyment. Yellow means hesitation—something you’ll do if I ask, but not something you seek out.
Red means stop. No questions asked.” I met his eyes.
“And those colors aren’t limited to scenes.
You can use them in everyday conversation, even now, if you need to. ”
I leaned in slightly, voice steady. “I’m not here to push you.
Not here to hurt you. And I will never take away your choices.
Being in my care will never resemble what you endured at Lockswell.
Not now. Not ever.” I let the words settle before continuing.
“I want you to feel safe telling me your reds just as much as your greens. Your preferences will be heard. Respected. Never used against you.” I paused.
“So no. I won’t do whatever I want to you.
Not without your consent. That’s a promise.
If you say red, I stop. No matter what.”
I gave him a moment for the words to settle, to make an impact on his brain.
“I don’t want to cause you pain. I don’t want to mark you.”
“But I’m yours, Sir.”
“On paper, yes. That doesn’t mean I will ever lift a hand in anger towards you. I’m not going to do what your last client did, or any of the ones before that.”
Charlie dropped his eyes, but not before I saw the shame at the reminder of what happened. His back would forever be scarred in spots, and I wish I could take it all away. Instead, I let my hand trail to his cheek, cupping it in my palm.
“Don’t get me wrong, I do want to claim you.
I want to call you mine in every way. But it won’t be until we are both there not just physically, but emotionally.
That could take a day, or a year. I don’t care much for rushing things, as you know.
I have all the time in the world to earn your heart.
And it’s okay if I don’t get that part of you.
I don’t expect it. But like trust, I hope to earn it. ”
Charlie opened and closed his mouth before settling for just keeping it closed. When he was quiet for a full minute, I went on.
“If you want, next week I will give you the option of looking at the other lists. But that won’t be today.”
Charlie took a deep breath, gave a single nod, then lifted his gaze to meet mine. I kept my tone steady. “Looking over your responses,” I said, “you marked a lot of green in the punishment section.”
That concerned me. Red flags stood out across the page—not because of what he marked, but because of how easily he did. I had to remind myself: he was trained to endure these things. To accept them without question. But that didn’t mean I was comfortable acting on them.
Not yet. Maybe in time. When I knew the green came from choice and not survival.
I scanned the page again, eyes landing on one mark that didn’t sit right. “Charlie,” I said quietly, “can I ask about one of your greens?”
He nodded, posture still, gaze lowered.
“Face slapping,” I said. “You marked it green.”
His breath hitched—barely. But I saw it.
“I need to know,” I continued, “is that something you genuinely want? Or something you were taught to accept?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, like he was sorting through a dozen memories at once.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “It was normal. Expected. I didn’t hate it. I didn’t like it. I just… took it.”
I nodded slowly.
“That’s yellow, then,” I said. “Not green. Not until you’re sure.” For me, that’d be red. I couldn’t willingly harm this Omega. I highly doubted he got off on pain.
His eyes flicked up, surprised. And I saw it—that flicker of relief. Because for once, he didn’t have to perform. He just had to be honest. And I’d meet him there.
I watched the way Charlie’s shoulders tightened after answering. Not from defiance.
He was trying to be honest. But honesty, for someone like him, wasn’t instinct. It was an effort.
I reached for the papers, then paused. “Would it help,” I asked gently, “if we went through this together?”
His eyes flicked up, cautious.
“I won’t rush you,” I continued. “We’ll take it slow. One item at a time. You can ask questions, change your mind, mark something yellow even if you thought it was green.”
He didn’t speak, but I saw the shift. A breath held less tightly.
“I want to understand you. Not just what you’ve been taught to endure—but what you actually feel. What you want. What you don’t.”
Still no words. But he nodded. And that was enough. Because this wasn’t about control. It was about building something that could hold both of us.
Safely.
Together.
“Go get a chair from the kitchen, then we’ll start over. As equals.”
Charlie did just that. He took our dishes from the snack with him, returning with new bottles and a chair. He placed it inches from me, then took a seat. Thankfully, his body wasn’t as stiff as I expected.
“I am proud of you, sweetheart. You tried, gave answers without me needing to interfere. A week ago, you would have marked everything green, no thought in doing so.”
“I can handle what I marked, Sir.”
I glanced down at the page, then back at Charlie. He was seated next to me, posture straight but not tense. His answer was exactly what I expected. Just because he could handle something didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
I cleared my throat gently, keeping my tone even. “All right,” I said. “First item.” I let my eyes settle on the words. “Kneeling.”
Charlie didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
“You marked it green.”
He nodded once, slowly.
“I want to hear it in your words,” I said. “Not just the color. What does kneeling mean to you?”
He hesitated. Then spoke. And I listened. Because this wasn’t about the checklist. It was about building something real, one answer at a time.