by Sidney Bell
“Because I’m still angry. And that’s the definition of changing the subject. We were talking about your desire to hurt me and segueing into a talk about how to make that happen, and then you were all about—”
“The fuck we were segueing into making that happen.” Sullivan took a breath, forced himself to talk more slowly. “I can change the subject if I want to. It’s my conversation too. Also, no one’s saying you can’t be angry. You can call someone while you’re angry.”
Tobias sounded insultingly calm when he said, “Okay. We don’t have to do anything. And it’s better if I calm down first. Or I might end up saying something I regret.”
“If you aren’t chilled out by now, you’re never going to be. Plus, not to be a dick, but your problem doesn’t seem to be about saying things you regret so much as not saying anything at all and pretending everything is fine. You can’t get mad at people for believing your bullshit when you’re selling it to them this hard. Maybe you should try telling the truth for once; you wouldn’t have this problem.”
Tobias’s expression went slack with shock. “Wow. That’s...that’s quite the read on something you know nothing about.”
“Am I wrong?”
Tobias set his jaw. “Are you going to admit you want to hurt me?”
They stared at each other.
Neither of them answered.
Four silent hours later, when all the lights in the green house had been off for a while, they left for the night. Sullivan drove Tobias to the motel without a word.
* * *
A week shouldn’t be long enough to get addicted to the feel of someone else in bed breathing softly in the dark with you, Tobias decided around four in the morning.
* * *
Sullivan woke up to a ten-mile dawn.
Two weeks, he bitched to himself as he ran, earbuds in, the Single Mothers’ “Negative Qualities” blaring because it matched his mood. Two fucking weeks you’ve known the guy, and you’re all out of joint. Two fucking weeks and you’re acting like a sulking teenager. Get your shit together.
Even after he’d run himself into exhaustion and taken a hot shower, he still felt unsettled. His skin had somehow shrunk overnight, and he didn’t fit right in his own body. Nothing fit right.
Chapter Sixteen
Because he was determined to act like an adult, Sullivan made a thermos of coffee for Tobias as well as himself before he went to the motel. They hadn’t explicitly said they’d meet up today, but Sullivan had enough experience with Tobias’s determination by this point to know he wasn’t going to get away with avoiding him just because they’d argued. He was unsurprised to find him waiting outside, hair still damp from a shower, eyes bloodshot and heavy.
Sullivan drove them out to Cindy Jackman’s house and collected the cheap watch from behind her tire. Once again, she hadn’t driven anywhere after they left. Then they sat in silence for several long, strained minutes until, almost in unison, Sullivan said, “We should talk,” and Tobias asked, “Can we talk?”
After a jumble of “Yeah,” and “go ahead,” and “no, you first,” Sullivan threw himself on his sword.
“I’m sorry. You threw me with the spanking thing, and I might have some issues with that, and I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. It’s fine. It’s none of my business, and I shouldn’t have—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was the one who started the whole conversation. It was my fault. I’m sorry.”
“I was the one who acted like a dick.”
“If I hadn’t brought up the spanking thing, none of this would’ve happened.”
Jesus, Tobias was uptight. No wonder his damn head was a mess. “You think you shouldn’t have brought it up?”
“I upset you.”
“Oh, my God.” Sullivan dropped his head back against the rest. Where was the guy who’d stood up to him so well a week ago, who’d argued and squared his shoulders and spoke his piece? That guy had been an asshole, but at least he’d been real. He wanted to get back to that.
In fact...he was going to get back to that. Tobias had to be able to say what he honestly felt, and yeah, he’d gotten pretty good at that when it was easy shit, but it wasn’t always going to be easy shit.
Sullivan took a deep breath. Being analytical about it hadn’t gotten them anywhere. Best to hit it head-on. “I’m mad at you.”
“That’s why I’m apologizing.”
“No, I mean I’m mad at you for apologizing.”
“That’s—How are you mad at me for apologizing?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It takes two to argue.”
“Exactly. And you’re not arguing, you’re rolling over, and it’s not—it’s so damn polite I can’t see straight. I don’t like it.”
Tobias frowned at him. “You don’t like politeness? But it’s good to be kind.”
“Polite and kind are two different things. Kind is crucial. Polite is superficial. I mean, it’s great to say thank you and all, I’m not arguing that, but you not saying shit isn’t polite. It’s manipulative.”
Tobias sucked in a breath. “I am not manipulative.”
“No? So you’re not changing your behavior to get a particular response from the people around you, without ever once explaining what you’re doing or why?”
“You’re twisting it around.”
“You make it impossible for people to legitimately like you.”
“Because I’m a manipulative liar who—”
“No,” Sullivan interrupted, “because you don’t show them you. Of course people like this fake, polite, nice bullshit you dish out, because it’s easy, and it gives them what they want, but they’re not getting you. You do it on purpose so they’ll like you, but it’s disingenuous and manipulative and I don’t fucking like being lied to.”
Tobias jerked back as if he’d been struck, his cheeks flooding with color. He opened his mouth, froze, and finally said, “You’re right, I should’ve—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, would you say what you’re fucking thinking?”
“I think you’re being an asshole!” Tobias shouted.
“Well, so do I!” Sullivan shouted back, and then laughed out loud at the shock on Tobias’s face. “Jesus, you make it hard to get an honest answer out of you. You’re not my slave, remember? I don’t want polite, doormat Tobias. I want the guy who blackmailed me and stood up to me and shoved me in my own hallway and, like, went after my dick with zero advance notice. That version of you isn’t very polite, but at least it’s honest. You can yell and call me out and say what you want, even if you think I’m not going to like it. That’s not going to drive me away. The only thing that’s guaranteed to drive me away is that manipulative, bland politeness you pull with everyone else.”
Tobias’s fingers plucked at the hem of his shorts, his face tipped away. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, this whole save-Tobias-from-himself plan you’ve got going, but it’s not that simple.”
“It was easier when I was just some guy you were screwing over, huh? Let’s practice. Tell me how it made you feel that I was a dick to you yesterday.” Sullivan reached out and took Tobias’s hand, and Tobias’s head snapped around so he could stare at their intertwined fingers. Sullivan could see the indecision on his face, the warring impulses to follow the same script he’d followed his whole life or to do as Sullivan was suggesting. It wasn’t unlike a scene, now that he thought about it. Setting up conditions that made it safe for a sub to come apart, and then helping them pick up the pieces afterward.
Still staring at their hands, Tobias muttered, “You really hurt my feelings.”
Sullivan’s heart turned over in his chest with something close to pride. It was both alarming and embarrassing, actually. “Good
,” he murmured. “You’re doing good. Keep going.”
“It felt like you went right for one of my most vulnerable spots.”
“Yeah, that’s because that’s what I did. Keep going.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you mad yesterday. I was trying to ask for—ask for what I wanted.”
“I know. It’s all right that you did that. I should’ve listened. Explained.”
“It’s not easy to have someone spring something like that on you, though. I get why you were upset.”
“Whose side are you on?” Sullivan asked. “Stop helping me. And if I’m not okay, I should say that I need time to think, not say a bunch of dickish things.”
“Well, that’s true.” Tobias glanced up, his gaze searching Sullivan’s face, and whatever he saw there seemed to reassure him. “And I know you were frustrated and maybe you’re okay fighting the way we just did, but I don’t like it.”
“Sometimes yelling clears the air.”
Tobias visibly bolstered himself. “I—I—no. I really don’t like yelling. If one of us isn’t listening, we can try different things, but not yelling.”
Sullivan squeezed Tobias’s hand. “Fair enough. I promise. No yelling.”
“And I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Sullivan grumbled in exasperation, and Tobias’s jaw set. “I can be sorry if I want. If I should be able to say the bad things I feel, I should be able to say these too. I don’t like that I made you feel threatened. I don’t want to do that again, even accidentally. I want to approach things like this differently.”
“I don’t know if threatened is the right word,” Sullivan started, but Tobias just looked at him, clear and sweet and vaguely admonishing. “Yeah, all right, good word.”
“Maybe I didn’t do anything wrong, but I can still be sorry that you felt that way.”
Sullivan supposed that made sense. And if it was what Tobias felt, well...wasn’t that the whole point of this? “Okay. Thanks.”
“Okay.” Tobias’s shoulders straightened. “I feel better.”
“Yeah? Me too.”
“Although I’d like to ask some questions, if I can. Figure out where we stand. We haven’t talked much. About the sex stuff, yeah, but not about where we’re coming from and what we want, so—”
“You mentioned casual, that first day,” Sullivan said slowly. “I don’t know how much casual sex you’ve had, but this—what we’ve been doing—doesn’t fit my definition of it.”
“It doesn’t feel casual,” Tobias admitted. “Maybe that first day, a little, but it shifted. I’m not sure how to get back to that first day. Probably less kissing? Sleepovers are...maybe not...” He sounded unexcited at the prospect at another night at the motel, which was a small comfort.
“I don’t think I want to. Go back, I mean.” Sullivan’s stomach tightened at the surprised pleasure on Tobias’s face.
“You don’t? You like where we are?”
“I like kissing you. I don’t want to stop kissing you.”
Tobias’s cheeks flushed again, and his lips curved in a small, shy smile. “I don’t want to stop either.” He squeezed Sullivan’s fingers and opened his mouth to add something else, and then stalled out.
“Say it.” Sullivan nudged his knee.
“No, I will. I’m just not sure what to say. I don’t trust myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“My life is a mess right now. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I’m going or how, and I’ve been making a bunch of huge decisions in a short span of time and it’s all sort of awful.”
“Oh.”
“Except for you,” Tobias added hurriedly. “You’re the only part of my life right now that I’m not half-tempted to drop in a lake, but I’ve been feeling very impulsive lately. I like it, but it’s probably not a great time for me to make any promises.” He paused, his thumb tracing over Sullivan’s hand like he was relishing the texture of Sullivan’s skin. “You’re amazing and I like you a lot, but I don’t want to give you false expectations. I want this, but I don’t trust my mental state enough to know that I’ll keep wanting it. That sounds really mean, I know, but you wanted me to be honest, and that’s where I am. Is that okay? I understand if you want to go back to being professional.”
“If it’s what you feel comfortable with, it’s okay.” Sullivan didn’t have to like it to respect it. He also didn’t think he was required to lay on the line how much the idea of Tobias deciding that all he’d wanted was a fling bothered him. That was his problem, and saying so might make Tobias feel guilty. He was giving Sullivan the honesty he’d asked for, daring to trust Sullivan to handle it the way he’d claimed he would. Sullivan wasn’t going to screw it up now just because it wasn’t the answer he’d wanted.
And as much as Tobias might think otherwise, this was an answer. If Tobias thought he should keep one foot out the door, there was a reason for it. Maybe it was because he was making a bunch of changes. Maybe it was because he already knew that this new, better person he wanted to be wouldn’t have the same inclination for dirty sex with some guy he’d known for two weeks.
Either way, Sullivan wasn’t going to hold his breath.
He said, “I’m cool with playing things by ear. We’ll stick with maybe, and when things get a bit more settled for you, we’ll talk about it again. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tobias smiled, the tension in his shoulders dissipating.
Sullivan heaved a deep breath. He would just have to keep his head together.
Tobias asked, “Does that mean I get to ask you nosy questions about the spanking thing or not?”
Sullivan’s throat went tight and he reminded himself to chill. “Yeah, ask what you want. I promise this time that if I don’t want to talk about something, I won’t be a dick about it.”
“Okay. But first...” Tobias leaned in, gaze searching, and kissed Sullivan’s mouth. Sullivan kissed him back for as long as he dared, and it wasn’t enough by far, but eventually he pulled back.
“On a stakeout,” he reminded them both, licking his lips, and Tobias nodded.
“I know. I just needed to do that.”
Sullivan’s heart did a stupid tumbling thing in his chest, and he directed his attention to Cindy Jackman’s front door. “No problem.”
“So...” Tobias was still holding his hand and playing with his fingers. It was soothing, and even though Sullivan should probably take his hand back, he didn’t. It might make the rest of this conversation easier. “Before we get back to the question of whether or not you want to hurt me, I thought maybe I should ask why you seem so unhappy about answering me. Is it related to the reason why you’re out of practice with, um, the kind of sex we’re having?”
Sullivan gave him a wry glance. “Do you make a habit out of being insightful? It’s annoying.”
“Sorry.” Tobias didn’t sound sorry so much as amused.
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ll understand. But if you want to, whatever it is, I’m not going to laugh or be mean. I’m a good listener. Or so I’ve been told.”
Sullivan studied Tobias’s smile, the kind curve of it. It was a lovely smile, one that both reassured and warmed. “My last relationship ended badly. We were buddies since we were kids, and we tried to make the leap into something else, but he wasn’t into kink. Which he explained, in great detail, when I told him what I wanted.”
Tobias winced. “In a nonjudgmental, whatever-makes-you-happy sort of way?”
Sullivan laughed without humor. “Not hardly.”
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t the token apology that most people offered in this sort of situation, fulfilling the day’s allotment of social expectation. He sounded like he was truly touched by Sullivan’s pain. It was earnest and endearing and hard to tak
e. Sullivan looked down. “Thanks.”
After a brief hesitation, Tobias asked, “Did you love him?”
“Yes.” Sullivan thought he sounded embarrassingly hoarse, but it wasn’t because of Nick, exactly. Or at least, it wasn’t because he was pining for their romantic relationship. His love for Nick had been platonic for a long time, partially because they’d been young when they met and partially because Sullivan had never dared to let himself hope for more, and he’d have been able to make the switch back to friendship if given the chance. It would’ve hurt, but he could’ve done it. Instead, within two days of Sullivan’s confession about what he needed in bed, both Nick and all evidence of his presence in Sullivan’s life had been gone. He hadn’t gotten the brushoff. He’d gotten a swift and brutal ejection.
Nick had left the gifts Sullivan had given him over the years in a pile on his front stoop, for fuck’s sake.
No, he might be upset, but he definitely wasn’t pining.
“I don’t think some handcuffs and a little wax play would’ve been enough to make him hate me, but the rest of it...” Sullivan tipped his head back against the rest, concentrating on where Tobias’s fingers had tightened around his. “I said I wanted to hurt him. He said I was a monster. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a point, you know, but—”
“Whoa, that’s—” Tobias’s eyes had gone wide. “He did not have a point. What he said is not okay, Sullivan. You’re not a monster. He doesn’t have to like what you like, but it’s not okay to vilify people for wanting or liking different things. He could’ve said no, he could’ve walked away, but trying to shame you and humiliate you because he didn’t have the same views on the subject—that’s what’s monstrous.”
“Hey, hey, easy.” Sullivan tugged his hand loose, but only so he could wrap his fingers in the curl by Tobias’s temple, tugging gently, stroking the skin there with his thumb. “I’m okay. Take a breath.”
Tobias did, but the tension in his lips didn’t fade. “I hate that. When people assume that different is bad. Someone doesn’t have to understand your choices or agree with them to accept that you still have the right to make them. We don’t all have to be the same. We can be different without letting it make us afraid or mean or careless. It’s so stupid.”