fuck you
? Hollow eyes with shadows beneath them. Skin
too pale, hair in need of a trim, face gaunt and tense.
He heard Keaton’s footsteps going downstairs. He
washed up, then slipped out of the bathroom and into
the guest room. He rummaged in his bag for a tight T-
shirt, removed his button-down, and put on the tee.
Keaton was in the kitchen. “I’m just going to heat
up a pot of leftover chili for dinner,” Keaton said.
“There’s plenty if you want some.”
“I’m not hungry.” Aiden pulled his keys out of his
pocket. “I’m going out.”
He half expected Keaton to forbid it, but Keaton
just said, “Let me give you the garage code, in case
you’re out late. I leave the door from the garage to the
laundry room unlocked.” He wrote the code on a sticky
note. “The chili’ll be in the fridge for later.”
Aiden nodded.
Thanks, Mom
. He bolted for the front
door. For a while, he just drove, trying to convince
himself he hadn’t made a horrible mistake agreeing to
stay with Keaton. What the hell kind of top was Keaton
Hughes? He could have demanded anything of Aiden.
Instead he just calmly announced he didn’t want to have
sex, then offered Aiden leftover chili?
Maybe he’s waiting to reveal his dom side. Maybe he
wants to let me get comfortable first
. Aiden shivered, wishing
he’d brought a jacket. He drove to a local bar and started
drinking, moving on to another bar, then another. He
stumbled out of the last place around two a.m., left his
car, and took a cab to Keaton’s, impressed he’d
remembered the address.
When he arrived, he realized he’d lost the note with
the garage code on it. “Hold on a sec,” he muttered to the
cab driver. He had no wish to discover how pissed
Keaton would be at being woken up in the middle of the
night, especially since Keaton had class the next
morning. He searched his pockets one more time.
“What’s the problem?” the driver asked.
“Could you—could you take me somewhere else?”
The driver rolled his eyes. “Your money.”
Aiden had the driver take him to Hera’s. A light
was on in the house. He knocked on the door. Kim
answered. She didn’t seem surprised or ask him what he
was doing there. She just stepped aside so he could
come in.
He followed her to the kitchen and sat down at the
table. Kim left, and a moment later, Hera entered in her
pajamas. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “What
happened?”
“Nothing’s—I lost his garage code.”
“What?”
“I was out at some bars, and he gave me the garage
code so I could get back in, but I lost it.”
“So you couldn’t knock? Or call his cell?”
“I didn’t want to wake him up.”
“Why were you out? Did something happen with
Keaton?”
Just the opposite
. “I felt like going out. Who cares?
Just because I’m staying at his place doesn’t mean I have
to hang out with him every second.”
“You sound trashed.”
“I am trashed.”
“You can crash here tonight. I’ll drive you back to
your car in the morning; then you can go to Keaton’s.
Assuming he’ll take you back.”
“Jesus Christ, we’re not dating!”
“Relax. Come on now, you’re going to bed.”
“Did I fuck things up?” Aiden asked, feeling
suddenly small and miserable.
“You’ll be all right. Come on.”
She led him to the living room and helped him onto
the couch. She made him drink a bottle of water, which
reminded him of that first night with Scott. He fell into an
uneasy sleep.
* * * *
bar the next morning, Aiden thought seriously about
getting into his car and driving away—out of town, out
of state, heck, maybe even to Canada. He could start
somewhere new, somewhere no one would know what a
fuckup he was.
Instead he drove to Keaton’s.
Keaton wasn’t home from his morning class yet, so
Aiden parked across the street and waited in his car,
chewing his nails and trying to will his growling stomach
silent. He studied the house. Its exterior was clean, tidy,
relaxed. Like Keaton.
Aiden tensed as Keaton’s Solara turned into the
driveway. He waited until Keaton was in the garage
before making his way slowly up the drive.
Keaton flashed him a grin. “I thought you’d bailed
on me. Was the guest room that disappointing?”
Aiden blushed. “I lost the garage code. I didn’t
want to wake you up, so I slept at Hera’s.”
He felt Keaton studying him, taking in his
disheveled appearance. He knew he stank of alcohol,
smoke, and sweat, and wished he’d showered at Hera’s.
“You can always wake me. I’m a light sleeper
anyway.”
“Yeah, me too.” Aiden swallowed.
Keaton held out a hand. “Come on in.”
It felt natural to take Keaton’s hand; Aiden did it
without even realizing. But the electric jolt that shot
through him when he did made him pull away. Keaton
let him go, not seeming to notice or mind. Aiden
followed Keaton inside.
“Hungry?
I’m
gonna
make
a
couple
of
sandwiches.”
Aiden didn’t feel like eating, but guilt over last
night made him say, “Sure.”
They ate in silence. Keaton didn’t press Aiden for
details about where he’d been and why, just talked about
his morning class. The sandwich was good, and it helped
Aiden’s headache. But almost immediately after he’d
finished, he felt sick. He excused himself to the bathroom
and threw up.
He showered, which made him feel a little better.
He was exhausted and decided to take a nap. He lay
down on the huge, soft guest bed and pulled the covers
up to his chin. The comforter smelled freshly laundered,
and the pillows were plump and downy. He was asleep
in minutes.
He dreamed he heard footsteps pounding up the
stairs. The door flew open, and Scott stormed into the
room. He grabbed Aiden’s hair, trying to drag him out of
the bed. Aiden fought and shouted, kicking off the
covers. Scott raised his other hand to strike Aiden.
Suddenly Scott disappeared.
There was a weight on the bed beside Aiden. The
covers were once more drawn up to his chin. He tried to
open his eyes to see if Scott was still there. A hand
smoothed his hair. Aiden whimpered and went still
under the touch. He couldn’t tell if he was asleep or
awake.
When he woke, it was late afternoon. He went
downstairs. No sign of Keaton at first, but then Aiden
heard him clear his throat in the den. Aiden wandered
the house, restless and anxious. He wished he could
make himself settle down and read or watch TV. He
walked around the house, looking at the paintings on the
walls. Some were Keaton’s; others were by artists Aiden
didn’t know.
By dinnertime, Aiden was stressed and irritable.
“I’m going to the store to get some stuff for dinner,”
Keaton said. “You’re welcome to come.”
“No, thanks,” Aiden muttered.
Keaton left, and Aiden considered hitting the bars
again, but he didn’t have the energy. How was it
possible to be exhausted and restless at the same time?
He suddenly resented Keaton for leaving—and for
refusing to have sex with him. Sex would definitely calm
Aiden down, distract him from the mess in his mind.
He was too hot. He took off his sweatshirt and
threw it on the couch, pleased with how it detracted from
the room’s tidiness. He lay on the couch and turned on
the TV, and watched two episodes of some stupid
sitcom. When Keaton came home, Aiden didn’t return
his greeting.
“Anything good on?” Keaton asked, entering the
living room.
“No,” Aiden said. “A bunch of shit.” He tossed the
remote as hard as he dared. It lodged between the
cushion and the arm on the other end of the couch.
“Something bothering you?” Keaton asked.
“Nope.”
“Nothing you want to discuss?”
“I just want some fucking time alone, if that’s all
right.” He held his breath, waiting to see how Keaton
would react.
Keaton just nodded. “Sure.” He left the room and
busied himself in the kitchen.
Aiden seethed his way through another episode of
the sitcom. A movie came on that he used to like, but
tonight found irredeemably boring. He thought about
Keaton in the next room—Keaton’s eyes, Keaton’s hands,
Keaton’s ass… He wondered what that ass looked like
bare. He wondered what Keaton’s cock looked like.
Thick? Long? Cut? He rolled over, ran a hand over the
front of his pants. Decided that, even if he hated Keaton,
it was bad manners as a guest to jack off on his host’s
couch.
He slid off the couch and went into the kitchen,
where Keaton was putting groceries away. “Need help?”
he muttered.
Keaton glanced at him. “I’m almost done.”
“What are your plans for tonight?”
“I was going to shut myself in the studio for a
couple of hours. You?”
Aiden shrugged. “I might go out again.”
Keaton nodded.
“You don’t go out much?” Aiden asked.
“Once in a while,” Keaton said. “I’m kind of a
homebody.”
“I’d never seen you at Obey before that one night.”
“I’ve only been a couple of times. It’s not really my
scene.”
“What is your scene?”
Keaton seemed unfazed by Aiden’s prying. “Hard
to explain. Not clubs.”
“But you are a top?”
“Yes. I’m just not into chains and leather and toys.”
“So what are you into?”
“Submission,” Keaton said simply.
Aiden didn’t understand this man. All at once, it
seemed that every nerve in him was alive and whipping
back and forth; he didn’t want to sit or stand or lie down.
He didn’t particularly want to exist. “Scott was into that
too.”
“I don’t think Scott’s and my definitions of
submission are the same.”
“He said I had to stop thinking about what I want
and do what he wants, no matter what.”
Keaton put a couple of boxes of pasta into the
cupboard. “I don’t think what a sub wants and what a
dom wants have to be—or should be—mutually
exclusive.”
“If a sub didn’t cooperate with you, what would
you do?”
“I’d try to find out the reason for the sub’s
resistance. I make it clear at the beginning of a
relationship what my expectations are, and what the
consequences are for not meeting those expectations.
Sometimes a sub will accept the consequences in the
abstract, as part of a discussion, but when he actually
finds himself facing them, he gets anxious and fights.”
“And that’s when the fun begins,” Aiden said
softly, almost to himself.
“What do you mean?” Keaton sounded curious.
Aiden swallowed. “Do you think it’s hot, when they
fight you? When they’re scared?”
“No,” Keaton said quietly. “That might be fun in
play, as long as both parties are into the fantasy. But I
don’t really play games.”
“Neither did Scott.”
Keaton studied him for a long moment. “No. I
guess he didn’t.” Keaton got himself a glass of water and
handed Aiden one too, even though Aiden hadn’t asked.
Keaton drank, then set the glass down and said, “I
believe in a mutually fulfilling D/s partnership. I don’t
believe a dominant partner has the right to harm or
frighten a sub. Submission is about trust.”
Aiden’s throat suddenly felt tight. “I think I’m
gonna go for a walk.”
“Want some company?”
Aiden shook his head.
“Remember the garage code?”
Aiden managed a small smile. “Yeah.”
Aiden left the house and started walking, not caring
where he went. The sky was dark, the moon clouded
over, and Aiden ignored the lit windows of the houses
he passed, the families watching TV, eating a late dinner,
or trying to get the kids to bed. A dog barked at him
from a fenced yard. He felt completely alone, like he
could disappear and it wouldn’t change a thing about
the universe.
Keaton would probably be glad. He’s probably
regretting that he ever asked me to stay with him.