Breathless (The Game 3)

Shay blanched, an adorable sight, and blinked. “Y-you’re gonna fuck me?”

I grinned and exchanged a glance with an amused River as he rounded the truck to get in behind the wheel. Then I slid my gaze back to Shay and opened the door in the back for him. “That’s up to you. I don’t know your limits yet.”

I jumped in to sit next to him in the back seat, refusing to miss any of his reactions to what I said. Considering he was hiding a lot and, most importantly, seeking sadism for reasons he wouldn’t discuss, it was imperative that Riv and I observed him every chance we got.

“Starting right now, you can use your safeword whenever you want,” I mentioned.

“Okay…” He cleared his throat. “By the way, I’m not a sub,” he told us, as if he felt the need to warn.

I wasn’t convinced about that either. The way he’d reacted when I’d told him fuck off had pulled at something in me. He’d withdrawn with his tail between his legs and looked away in a combination of unease and worry. River had felt something too, I was certain. He’d squeezed my leg under the table.

“I’m not asking you to call me Sir.” I patted the middle seat between us. “Sit here instead. Have you eaten dinner?”

“Um, yeah. I had noodles at home.” He slid closer and buckled the seat belt.

“That makes you one of two people who qualify that as a sufficient meal—you and River.” If I didn’t cook for my brother, he’d live on ramen.

“Nothing wrong with noodles,” Riv muttered as he stopped at a light.

Shay was evidently in agreement. “I love the cups where you just add water.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I shook my head. We had a cupboard full of noodle cups.

“I’ve had two of those today.” River smirked in the rearview.

Shay chuckled under his breath and clasped his hands on his lap.

All right, so they’d found something to bond over.

“If you win our little fisticuffs tonight, you can have all of River’s ramen cups.” I put a hand on Shay’s leg. “When was the last time you had an STI screening?”

He did a double take at me. “Is that really something you discuss like it’s the weather?”

“No. I hate discussing the weather.” I wanted to discuss him. Fuck, I wanted to crack him open and let all his secrets fall out. Touching his leg wasn’t enough. Instead, I draped an arm along the back of the seat and gripped his chin, forcing him to look me in the eye. Much better. His eyes were out of this world. Not blue, not green, something in the middle, dark and clear, such a vivid color. “Answer my question, boy.”

River cleared his throat demonstratively. I didn’t have to face him. I knew he was reminding me to slow my roll. I could get…too eager. Sometimes. Or, in my brother’s words, “more impatient than the IRS when they audit someone.”

Shay swallowed, and he immediately struggled to maintain eye contact. But it wasn’t the topic at hand; it was the close proximity.

“I’ve never had a damn STI in my life, and I get tested regularly, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s what I’m asking.” I slid my hand up his stubbly jaw and brushed my thumb over his lips. “We fuck with protection but prefer to go without for oral.”

He shifted in his seat without going anywhere, and he found my shoulder interesting to look at. “Okay. I—I don’t generally place sex and impact sessions in the same category.”

That was interesting. “Why’s that?”

“Because I can get sex anywhere,” he replied. “Pain is different. I need someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who can administer a lot of it without causing any permanent damage. But minor permanent scarring where I don’t have tattoos is okay.”

It’d been impossible not to notice the artwork he wore like a fitted shirt. Two full sleeves, ending in a neat line around his wrists, mostly Japanese style. A couple pieces traveled up his neck too. Someone had put a lot of work and thought into the designs.

According to River, the ink covered his front and back as well.

“No permanent damage beyond minor scarring. Got it.” I was glad for it, because it indicated that he wasn’t in such a state that he wanted to be put in the hospital or worse. It made playing with him much safer.

What I really wanted was to find a way to avoid the fighting altogether and get started on working through his problems. I wanted to send him straight into subspace and see if I could dig some honesty from him, but for that to happen—if he even was a talker during subspace—he had to lower his guard a little.

Shay frowned at me. “I don’t know if you’re gonna do something stupid like kiss me, or if you’re just a fan of invading my personal space.”