Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

I smirked faintly. It was spot-on; that was usually how it went.

“That kind of play just turns me on,” he continued. “Because it’s you. It’s you and me—I’m your helper, and I’m the one you take out your desire on afterward.”

I nodded and let out a breath. We were a brilliant team in that regard. I loved that kind of play too—because it was him. It was us.

“But I think that’s where I want to draw the line,” he said hesitantly. “To be honest, I don’t want fleeting playtime—actual playtime—with people I don’t know properly. And to take my insecurities into consideration, I don’t think I can handle having to wonder if a scene with someone else is going to turn into something more. I need to know beforehand.”

I nodded again, glad we were on the same page. And they weren’t only his insecurities; they were mine too, and I was beginning to wonder if they weren’t just insecurities. Maybe we just didn’t fucking want to share each other the way we had before. We’d touched on this back at the house; how one or two encounters could become weeks of worry, and suddenly they blackened every moment we shared outside of kink. Suddenly, one session with another submissive took over and made us forget that we’d been a goddamn amazing couple most of the time.

But you didn’t need a bucket of sand in your boots to ruin a hike. You only needed one grain.

“What about playing with someone we know well?” I asked, curious. “Pretend for a second that all subs in our community are available. Would you feel comfortable playing with Kit, for instance?”

He pursed his lips and tipped his head, weighing his answer. “He’s too much of a Little for me. Shay’s more my type, but he’s punchy as fuck. I don’t know.” He snorted softly and busied himself by stacking the magazines on the coffee table in a neat pile. “It’s weird to think about. I’m not sure I’d have good playtime chemistry with any of my friends who are subs.”

I reckoned that wasn’t too much of a surprise. We’d found our desire in the play itself more than the partner we’d demonstrated on or invited to our guest room out in Mclean.

I also had a niggling suspicion we had more to uncover where jealousy was concerned. Tate had used the word obsession, and my gut feeling told me I was missing something. Tate was missing it too.

“What about you, Master?” He stood straighter and watched me with a pensive expression. “Where does your pleasure lie in playing with others?”

“In you, Tate.” That one was easy. “For as little as I can connect with you when you’re dominant, I like co-topping with you. I think we have fantastic chemistry when we subject another bottom to our sadism.”

He smiled slightly. “I think we connect pretty well in those moments.”

I had to explain that differently. “I mean that I can’t—” I cut myself off to phrase myself better. “When it’s just the two of us and you feel dominant, I experience a disconnect between us. It puts our regular protocol on hold. Until we have a submissive between us. Then we can meet in the middle again.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Good. I’d been hoping to steer the conversation to Franklin, but I wasn’t getting any closer right now. I could sense a fair chunk of unease from Tate, and that took precedence. I walked over to him and pulled him in for a hug—a sweaty hug.

“We need a shower,” he chuckled.

“After you’ve cleaned the bathroom,” I said with a smile.

“Nice.” He peered up at me with a playful scowl.

For a moment, I just watched him. I could tell his mind had been spinning a lot since we got home, and perhaps it was time to slow things down.

I cupped his cheek and brushed my thumb over his stubble, and I searched his hazel eyes for…something. I didn’t know what. Maybe I wanted to get lost in him. It was tiring to turn a relationship inside out and try to keep the good and replace the bad. We were fragile.

Vulnerable. And I saw it in his gaze.

“Tell me what’s on your mind right now,” I murmured.

He took a breath and let it out slowly, some exhaustion seeping into his eyes. “I hate feeling so conflicted. I hate needing something I don’t want. I hate feeling uprooted and insecure. I’m doubting myself at every turn, and I worry we’re not going to find our way together. It’s my biggest fear.”

Dammit. Even though I could relate somewhat, it wasn’t until he experienced the same emotions that I felt the urge to fix it instantly.

I guided him over to the couch and pulled him down with me, wanting him close. “It’ll be difficult to find a solution if you barely tolerate your own needs.”