10. Party Composition #2
Whatever it means for the two of us to share the same space with her without either of us pretending the other isn’t there.
My stomach tightens in anticipation.
“Okay,” I manage to answer.
Ronan nods.
There will be no territorial bullshit. No competition over who gets what part of her. Just an acknowledgement that there are things we need to talk about before any of us decides whether the fantasy works outside our heads.
Which, apparently, I can do after I’ve slept enough to form complete sentences.
“Great.” I let Cami pull me toward the hallway. “Dungeon summit after my coma.”
Cami and Ronan both laugh.
And somehow that makes everything feel normal again.
I sleep until almost three.
It’s not the kind of sleep where you wake up refreshed and ready to face the world, either. It’s the kind where I wake up disoriented, with one arm numb beneath Cami and absolutely no idea what day it is.
She is lying beside me, scrolling through her phone, and when I move, she glances over.
“Welcome back.” She smiles.
“What year is it?”
She laughs.
“I was hoping I’d slept through a few?”
She laughs and kisses my shoulder. “There is fresh coffee.”
“You really do love me.”
“More than you know.”
I roll over and kiss her before dragging myself out of bed.
It’s only when I’m pulling on a shirt that I remember what comes after coffee.
A “dungeon summit.”
That wakes me up considerably more than the six hours of sleep did.
Ronan isn’t in the kitchen when I get there, but Micah informs me that Ronan is actually in the basement when I ask.
Of course he is.
I make coffee first.
I want to discuss having sex with my wife and another man, but caffeine is also necessary.
When I get downstairs, Ronan is standing in front of a new pegboard, rearranging some things.
My eyes immediately find new equipment hanging from the ceiling.
Well. I guess I know where Cami spent part of her Friday.
“Should I be concerned that every time I come down here there is more equipment and more… just more?”
Ronan looks over his shoulder. “Probably.”
I laugh and take a seat on the couch at the far end of the room, trying not to think about what may have transpired there.
That leads to other thoughts about every surface in the house… with all of us. Every surface in this house will end up fair game.
Ronan finishes whatever he’s doing before joining me, although he takes the chair across from me instead of sitting beside me.
Somehow that feels intentional.
“Better after sleep?” he asks.
“I can form complete thoughts now.”
“Good. That will make this easier.”
“You really know how to put a guy at ease.”
His mouth twitches.
Then his expression settles into something more serious.
“I want to start with something that probably seems obvious, but I don’t want either of us making assumptions.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“You aren’t submissive to me.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Yeah, I’m pretty confident about that.”
He looks at me with a serious expression.
I school my expression. “I know that, Ronan.”
“I’m serious,” he begins in explanation, “because Cami is submissive to me in certain contexts, and if the three of us are together, those dynamics don’t automatically extend to you.”
I hadn’t thought they would or did, but hearing him explicitly say it removes a potential issue down the line.
“Okay,” I agree.
“If she is submitting to me in whatever we’re doing, I may tell you what I want you to do with her.”
“That sounds suspiciously like you making me submissive and telling me what to do.” There is no edge in my voice—I even smile at him.
“It is.”
My brow furrows.
“The difference is that you’re free to not listen to me. To tell me no.”
That hits me the wrong way. “She’s free to tell you no.”
He shakes his head, like he realizes how that would have come across. “Absolutely, but we’ve negotiated a dynamic where she wants me to direct her. You and I haven’t negotiated that.”
That distinction makes a lot of sense.
“So you can ask me to do something,” I muse.
“Or tell you, depending on the scene.”
The corners of my mouth turn up enough to let him know I’m teasing as I respond, “And I can tell you to fuck off.”
He smiles. “I’d prefer something less disruptive if Cami is deeply in scene, but yes.”
“I’m good with that.”
He leans forward, forearms bracing on his spread thighs.
“If you agree to follow my lead, though, I need you to actually follow it until you tell me you’re not going to anymore. I don’t want Cami getting conflicting directions from us, if she wants to submit.”
“That I do understand.”
“And if something I do or direct her to do bothers you, I need you to tell me.”
I hesitate.
Ronan notices. “What?”
“I’m just trying to think of when that might be. I don’t think anything will bother me.”
“Maybe, but it might. That’s why we’re discussing it,” he explains.
Fair.
“I’ve seen some of that between you,” I admit.
He nods. “You’ve seen pieces of it.”
There is something about the way he says that that sends a little jolt through me.
Because he’s right.
I’ve watched relatively tame moments.
I’ve heard stories.
Everything in me sobers slightly as I ask, “And if I find out I hate watching you touch her?”
His answer comes immediately. “We stop.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
I study him. “You’re not going to be pissed?”
“Disappointed, probably.” He shrugs. “Pissed? No.”
“And if Cami doesn’t want it to stop?”
“Then Cami and I can do something another time. The three of us only work if all three of us want to be there.”
“Okay.”
Ronan nods before continuing. “My boundaries are another thing. I worry about it with you the least, but you were there for the conversation about touch.”
“I get it. Don’t touch you.”
“Not quite.”
I look at him questioningly.
He smiles and says, “If we’re both touching Cami, incidental contact is probably going to happen.
I can anticipate that. What I don’t want—which, again, I’m not so worried about with you—is you deliberately grabbing me, coming up behind me, putting a hand on my back or anything I can’t track visually. ”
“Yeah, that sounds like a Dex problem,” I joke. “But okay.”
Ronan huffs a small laugh. “If for some reason you need to touch me, make sure I can see it coming or tell me first.”
“Ronan,” I say incredulously, “I’m not planning to grope you.”
He gives me a flat look. “That’s not what I said.”
“I know.”
“And being straight doesn’t prevent you from putting a hand on my shoulder if you’re trying to move around me.”
That is also fair.
“So if we’re both reaching for Cami and our hands touch, nobody has to call an emergency meeting.”
We talk through a few more things, and then he asks, “Are you feeling comfortable about it all?”
“I think so.”
Ronan’s brows lift. “That’s not a yes.”
“No. It’s honest. I won’t know what it’s like until I’m actually there.”
“Neither will I.”
That surprises me enough that I laugh. “Bullshit. You’ve watched her with Micah and Dex.”
“Yes, and I’ve thought about it, extensively.”
“Not surprising.”
“But I’ve never had sex with Cami while her husband is participating.”
I start at him for a second, then laugh. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds fucking weird.”
“It is fucking weird.”
That makes me laugh harder.
Again we go into other boundaries, subjects, thoughts.
“Anything you need from me?” I ask.
His expression is thoughtful. “Yes.”
I wait for him to elaborate.
“Don’t treat me like I’m borrowing her from you.”
That actually stunned me a little. I don’t respond immediately.
Ronan doesn’t look away. “I’m not asking you to stop being her husband—to stop being what you are to her. I’m not asking you to pretend your relationship isn’t different from mine. But if we’re going this together, I don’t want to feel like I’m being granted temporary access to something you own.”
There’s no accusation in his voice.
I think about all the times I’ve called her mine. All the times I’ve meant it lovingly. All the times I’ve probably meant it in ways I needed to unlearn.
“That’s fair,” I finally answer.
Ronan nods. “Then I think we’re okay.”
“You know there’s still one fairly important person who gets a vote.”
He smiles. “I’m aware.”