Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Theo
The late morning sunlight spilled into the living room.
I opened my laptop and stared at the spreadsheet that now ruled my life.
Rehearsal schedule
Arrangement deadlines
Studio time
First-album timeline
And at the bottom, freshly typed:
SEARCH FOR NEW FLAT — WITH CAMERON
That opened up a whole new set of issues.
“You’re frowning again.” Cameron came over to me, carrying two mugs. “Should I be worried?” He looked adorable in one of my shirts, and judging by the way something was swinging about, he was naked under there.
He bent down and kissed my cheek as I closed the laptop.
“No.”
He arched his eyebrows and gave me an inquiring glance.
“Possibly,” I amended.
Cameron grinned. “That’s more like the honest version.” He retreated to the kitchen.
I watched him move around as he cleaned, completely at ease, and warmth settled in my chest.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve been thinking about our current situation.”
“Which bit of it?”
“You staying here, sleeping on the sofa…”
I caught his gasp. “You’re not relegating me to the sofa, are you? Do I snore? Hog the duvet?”
I laughed. “My bed is your bed. No, I’m talking about looking for somewhere bigger. That’s if you want us to continue living together.”
He leaned a hip against the counter and squinted at me. “Oooh, I don’t know. Living with my gorgeous, talented boyfriend who cooks, cleans, labels the sock drawer, and kisses me as though he’s making up for years of repression?” He sipped his coffee. “Yeah. I’m good with that.” His eyes twinkled.
My cheeks grew warm, and his smile softened. “Of course I want to stay.”
My heart steadied. I’d spent too many years having “yes” being followed by a wound.
I’ll learn.
Slowly.
“We can’t be any closer to central London, simply because of costs,” I reminded him.
“I’m an impoverished artist, remember?” He grinned. “But I draw the line at living in an attic and sharing our living space with rats.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it.
Max: Studio. 4pm. This is important.
I frowned. What the hell? There was no rehearsal planned for the weekend.
“What’s up?”
“Max just messaged me. He wants me at the studio this afternoon. And by the look of it, refusal is not an option.”
Cameron blinked. “Then I guess we’re going to Soho.” He bit his lip. “So I’ve got time for a shower?”
I snorted. “Four o’clock is several hours away. Just how long do you intend taking a shower for?”
“Oh, that’ll take five minutes.” He grinned.
“It’s what happens after it that will eat up all the time.
” Cameron grasped the hem of my shirt and drew it up and over his head, revealing his erect cock that was already standing to attention.
He turned and sauntered toward the bathroom, his arse cheeks jiggling.
I got up. “I think you’ve underestimated your shower time.”
As soon as we went into the studio, my senses were on alert. The room was buzzing, but it was a restless buzz.
Julian was pacing. Finnley was talking too fast. Raised voices argued about tempos. Milo sat on the piano bench, playing quietly. Oliver and Liam were locked in a verbal battle.
Whatever was going on, it wasn’t a rehearsal.
Max saw us. “Finally.” The others fell silent, and all eyes focused on me, the room suddenly still.
Uh-oh.
Finnley folded his arms. “I think we’re ready.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the group.
Julian’s eyes glinted. “We’re more than ready. Did you hear us last night?”
The penny dropped.
“You sang one chorus,” I said in a firm voice. “And I heard nerves.”
Cameron sat at the side of the studio, his attention focused on me.
“I heard people holding their breath,” Julian snapped back. “And they still loved it.”
Oliver folded his arms. “We’re not amateurs anymore, Theo.”
I felt the shift.
This was a challenge.
“We’re tight,” Finnley continued. “We’ve got a sound. And last night we got attention. Why are we still hiding in this studio?”
My pulse spiked. “Because we’re not consistent.”
“That’s bullshit.” Julian narrowed his gaze. “You’re scared.”
That last word felt like a slap.
I stood so still. “Careful.”
“I don’t think he means it like that,” Sebastian piped up.
Julian barrelled on, ignoring him. “You sang a love song at a gallery opening last night, Theo. Don’t tell me this isn’t personal.”
Crickets.
I felt Cameron’s gaze from the side of the room, steady, unreadable.
“This isn’t about me,” I said in a tight voice.
“It always is,” Finnley retorted. “You lead as if everything will fall apart if you loosen your grip for one second.”
“Because it will.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended.
“That’s not leadership,” Julian fired back. “That’s fear.”
I exhaled hard. “This group is my responsibility.”
“So is trusting us,” Milo said at last.
The thought of walking out lingered for a moment.
I straightened. “No. We are not gig-ready.”
That earned me a chorus of groans and frustrated laughter.
“We’re not,” I repeated firmly. “The blend isn’t tight enough. Breath support varies. Dynamics need consistency. Half of you are overthinking and the other half—” My gaze alighted on Max, Finnley, and Julian. “—are underthinking almost out of spite.”
Julian raised a finger. “Correct.”
“But,” I continued, raising my voice, “I have a plan.”
That got their attention.
Max pointed at me. “Okay, Dad. What’s the plan?”
I sighed. “I am not your dad.”
Julian raised a hand. “Emotionally, spiritually, and organisationally? You absolutely are.”
The group nodded in unison.
“Okay, the plan is… we can be demo-ready. Two songs.” I folded my arms. “Perfected. No cracks. No safety nets.”
Julian scoffed. “That’s it?”
“That’s everything,” I snapped. “If we can’t deliver two flawless tracks, we have no business on a stage.”
Silence again.
Then Oliver nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”
Finnley hesitated before speaking. “And if we nail them?”
I met their eyes, one by one. “Then I’ll book us a gig myself.”
Several sharp intakes of breath greeted my announcement. I hadn’t made the tension disappear, but I’d changed its shape.
“Is it okay to say this terrifies me?” Liam blurted.
“You and me both,” Elliott muttered.
Cameron spoke up. “If you weren’t scared, it wouldn’t matter this much.” Nine heads turned toward him, and he flushed. “You’re building something new. Something big. The nerves just mean you care about getting it right.”
Sebastian sighed. “That’s true.”
I gave Cameron a small, private smile that hopefully meant more than anyone else in the room would notice.
Cameron smiled back, gentle and warm.
Max clapped his hands. “All right then. Let’s do a run. Two songs. Clean, tight, and sexy so Theo doesn’t explode.”
“I’m not going to explode,” I muttered.
“I disagree.” Julian grinned. “You already look like a man about to combust.”
“Spontaneous combustion is not covered by our contract,” Zane added.
Liam gave an eye roll. “We don’t have a contract.”
“Exactly.” Milo folded his arms. “Which is something else we need to discuss.”
We weren’t perfect, but we were making progress. We were going to make it.
All of us.
Together.
Cameron
Going to Balan’s had been Julian’s idea—of course it had—but I had to admit his instincts were on the money. We needed to decompress, to talk, joke, relax…
“When are we going back to that leather bar?” Elliott demanded. “That was a cool place.”
Liam chuckled. “Ah, another one. Do you go to Obsidian too?”
“Maybe?” There was a defensive edge to his voice. “Or maybe I just like leather.”
“Ever played with Max?”
Elliott flushed. “No.”
Obsidian? Max?
Beside me, Theo leaned back in his chair, more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.
“You were good today,” I said quietly.
“You make all of this feel possible,” Theo whispered.
I slipped my fingers through Theo’s. “And you make me feel like I belong here.”
His arm was around my shoulders. “We’re going to find a place,” he murmured.
“A real home, somewhere with space. A studio for you, a sound booth for me. A bed we don’t have to be quiet in.”
I grinned. “I wasn’t planning on being quiet anywhere. And I was hoping you wouldn’t be either.”
I loved the way he smiled at that.
Theo stood. “I’ll be right back.” He headed in the direction of the bathroom.
Julian’s gaze met mine. “Happy is a good look on you.”
At the next table, Max chuckled. “It’s a good look on both of them.”
I took advantage of Theo’s absence to shift closer to him. “What’s Obsidian?”
Max blinked, then recovered. “It’s a club. A special kind of club where—”
“Where all you hear is the swish of whips and paddles, the rattle of chains, and men fucking like bunnies,” Zane interjected.
Max rolled his eyes. “Of course, you speak from experience.”
Zane bit his lip. “Er, no.”
“Then you know nothing about it.” Max returned his attention to me. “It’s a club where men go to enjoy kink.”
I stared at him. “And do you have a lot of kinks?”
He smiled. “To quote Elliott…. Maybe?” He took a drink from his glass. “The club has a varied clientele, encompassing a lot of different kinks.” Max chuckled. “Everyone has a kink of one kind or another.”
I leaned against the wall. “I don’t think Theo has any kinks. At least… not like yours.”
Max choked on his beer. “Excuse me?”
I blinked again. “What?”
He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then set his glass down. “Cameron Walters. Sweet summer child. What do you think control is?”
I frowned. “A coping mechanism?”
Max laughed. “Okay, yes, it’s also that. But control is one of the oldest kinks known to mankind.”
I stiffened. “But for Theo it’s bad. It’s fear. It’s armour. Luka—”
“—weaponised it,” Max cut in. “That’s an important distinction.” He tilted his head. “You wouldn’t do that, though.”
Me? Where do I come into this?
Then I saw where he was going, and heat crawled through me.
I hesitated. “I don’t want to take control from him. I don’t want to hurt him.”
Max’s expression softened immediately. “Good. Then you’re already doing it right.”
I frowned. “I am?”
Max leaned closer. “Kink isn’t about taking something. It’s about offering a container.”
My head was spinning. “A… container.”
“Yeah, a space where control can be chosen. Negotiated. Held. Given back.”
My breathing slowed. “So you’re saying—”
“I’m saying Theo has already lived most of his life in a constant state of control,” he said gently. “He micromanages everything so nothing can hurt him. That’s exhausting. What he’s never had is someone he trusts enough to let hold the reins for a bit.”
I swallowed.
Max studied me. “Consensual power exchange isn’t about dominance. It’s about safety. Structure. Permission to stop bracing.”
Something clicked into place.
“So letting go doesn’t mean losing himself.”
“No,” Max said in a firm tone. “It means resting.”
I stared at the floor, my thoughts racing.
“And if I wanted to… take control,” I said carefully, “how do I do it without recreating Luka?”
Max met my gaze, deadly serious. “You ask. You negotiate. You check in. And you give Theo the ability to stop everything with one word.”
I nodded, trying to take it all in.
Max smiled. “Congratulations. You’re about to be a phenomenal top.”
My face grew hot. “I didn’t say—”
He grinned. “You didn’t have to.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled.
“Am I interrupting something?”
I jumped as Theo retook his seat. “Not really.” My heart pounded. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
Some of the others giggled and whooped, and Theo gave them a mock glare.
“We’re only jealous,” Liam said. “Some of us have too much going on in our lives to have time for a sex life as well.”
“Speak for yourself,” Julian murmured.
Theo laughed. “I think Cameron’s right. We’ve been here long enough. Rehearsal Tuesday, everyone. We have two songs to nail down, remember?”
As I stood to put my jacket on, my phone buzzed. I removed it from my pocket and peered at the screen.
Max: A little homework for you.
I glanced at the links below the message, and my heartbeat sped up.
Edging? Orgasm denial?