Revived (The Dungeon Black Duology 2)

Sean crossed his arms. “No, it’s not.”

Jonah nodded. “Oh, yeah it is. I’ve noticed. You’ve been quieter. Not your usual cheery self. I just assumed it was the stress of graduation or something, but now the reason’s crystal fucking clear. It’s Max, Sean. Max. Why can’t you find someone normal?”

Ugh. Excellent question. And one Sean didn’t have the answer for.

“I dunno, Joe,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Guess the heart just wants what it wants.”

Jonah groaned a soft curse. “Your heart’s a fucking fool.”

“Yeah... I know.” A fool for Max. It probably always would be.

As if sensing it was pointless to keep trying to change Sean’s mind, Jonah sighed and stood up, grabbing the pizza box. “I’m gonna go hit the shower, then snuggle with my book.” Presumably, the one still clutched in his hand.

Sean nodded and looked down.

Jonah headed into the kitchen, but paused on his way out, en route to the bathroom. “I don’t mean to be a downer, dude… I just don’t wanna see you wrecked. And for the record, not because I don’t think you can get him, but because I’m pretty sure that you can.”

Sean glanced at his friend. Joe put a fist to his chest, then pointed to Sean with a smile. Sean forced one in return, but the gesture was short-lived. Probably because, as Joe headed out of sight, Sean’s gaze slid back to his phone. The one sitting way too quietly on the coffee table. The one he’d like to throw against a wall.

Deep down, he suspected that he knew all along, knew that Max wouldn’t return his messages. Not just because he hadn’t returned them last time, either, but because of that strange vibe he’d been throwing. The one Sean picked up when Max saw him home from the club. It’d been unsettling. Disturbing. And most likely the real reason Sean wanted to reconnect again so badly. To make sure they were still good, or if nothing else, still intact. With the way Max had been acting, it was hard to tell. Not that that was really anything new.

Again, Sean thought back to the look on Max’s face, the tone in his voice, when he’d said goodbye. It was weird, the way he’d said it, the way he muttered the word. Like a part of him was fighting not to say it. Sean frowned. Even drunk, he’d still noticed Max’s conflict, but wrote it off as him having an off night.

But maybe Sean just hadn’t wanted to see the truth. Hadn’t wanted to consider it might mean something else. Something connected to how, for the last few weeks, it’d felt like Max was slipping from his grasp. Like sand through his fingers that he couldn’t hold on to. He’d been trying to, regardless, but the tighter he gripped, the faster Max seemed to slip away.

Sean cursed, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees, and rested his face in his hands. In all his life, he couldn’t remember a single challenge that had meant so much, but had been so hard to reach. Hell, nothing in gymnastics had ever come close. That shit was always an eventual guarantee. The product of dedication and practice. If he worked hard enough, he’d get it, plain and simple. Nothing left to chance. Or someone else’s hang-ups.

He chuckled halfheartedly and scrubbed his face. Max wasn’t making this easy, but Sean wasn’t giving up—no matter what Max, or Jonah, said. Tomorrow after work, Sean was going to confront him. Tell Max to his face that he was being a dick. That he deserved respect and demand that Max give it to him. Then maybe get to some other topics, too.

It was another risky gamble. Sean wasn’t lost to that. Thing was, even though part of him was saying, “Don’t push him, give him space,” he knew from experience that whenever he backed off, it just gave Max time to rebuild his walls.

So, no, he needed to keep at it, maintain momentum. Chances were Max would castigate him for another unannounced visit. But who knew, maybe not. Maybe the stars would align in his favor and Max would actually apologize and invite him in.

He leaned back and stared across the room at Joe’s Death Star. Max called him his Olympian, but little did he know, he’d just become “his Olympian’s” greatest challenge.

TWENTY-TWO

“Later, man. Thanks.”

“Yup. See you two in a month.” Max opened the front door and let his client couple out, having just wrapped their hour session.

They stepped onto the stoop, then hit the steps, both guys looking exhausted, but content. As they should; their appointment had gone smoothly, and Max had definitely worked them hard. Not as their Dom, though, but as their mentor, teaching each how to perform their individual roles.

Like more than half of Max’s clientele, these two wanted to learn the basics. The fundamental precepts of BDSM. So, Max was showing them through physical instruction, which tonight, involved more lessons in domination. But not for the sub figure. For the sub figure’s Dom. Because every Dom needed to know how things felt, needed to experience things firsthand to understand. Then, from there, they can tweak and adjust, fashioning their own activities from personal knowledge.