Playing (Inked Hearts 2)

"Yeah. But it's not enough. Reading about the theoretical is one thing, but I want to know what it's really like. How it feels. So I can capture it properly."

"What exactly are you writing?"

"It's um..." I'm not writing anything. That's all bullshit. I go through my favorite character pairings, trying to find one that makes sense. There's no way Peeta is tying up Katniss. Or Katniss and Finnick. Or Finnick and Annie. Nobody in The Hunger Games is getting tied up. But Draco and Harry—I could see that. "It's a Harry Potter fan fiction."

He arches a brow. "Harry doesn't have it in him."

"Yeah. He's not. Draco is."

Brendon chuckles. He's disarmed. He's not thinking about how I'm pushing him to illustrate his sexual preferences. He's endeared by me writing dirty male/male fan fiction. "I didn't realize—"

"I wrote about guys going at it?"

He nods.

"It's a favorite pairing. They have a certain chemistry."

"Yeah." He laughs.

"Yeah. And I... I don't really understand the psychology of it. Not from reading. It's not enough." I swallow hard. I can't believe these words are falling off my lips. Him going on that date is making me reckless. "You... you have experience with that."

"You want me to show you what it's like to be ordered around?"

"Not, you know... not sex. But maybe you could walk me through it."

He shoots me a really look.

"Or I could ask Dean."

There. His jaw cricks. He's armed again. But he's armed with exactly the right tool. He hates the idea of Dean ordering me around. Of Dean touching me.

"If you're not interested. Or busy. I'm sure Dean would help."

"You have a boss at work. It's the same thing."

I shake my head. "But that's not sexual."

"It doesn't have to be." He stares back at me. "Put your glass on the table."

I stare back. "Huh?"

"You want to see what it's like, listen and do exactly what I say."

I nod.

His voice drops to a tone I've never heard before. One that demands all my attention. "Put your glass on the table."

I do.

"Push it aside."

I do.

"Now sit on the table." He pats the spot at the edge of the table. It's as far away from him as it could be. "And wait for my next command."

My lips press together. This is weird. But I like everything about it.

I move to the table. Take a seat. Press my legs together.