Negotiations 38
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NEGOTIATIONS 38
DILL’S POV
Last night was supposed to be the night you got what you thought you wanted. You, an introvert by nature, had come to terms with what you needed to feel satisfied, and at the very least, getting it required being less of one. The cyber route was comforting; it allowed you to take only small steps forward. After more than three weeks of this careful communication, you felt ready to pull the trigger.
The realization that this might go up in a puff of smoke had always been a small possibility in the back of your mind. But you still felt hurt, and embarrassed, and stupid when your guy no-showed.
None of those feelings, however, made the bulk of your urges go away. These needs you have, they’re always there. They never leave you alone. You assign their birth to twelve years ago, when you were ten, but you believe they existed unformed long before that. They had to, didn’t they?
First, they came in private times. You were the oldest child of two children. You’re younger sister, Everly, is three years younger. You had your own room, and at night starting when you were ten or eleven, you were fastidious about announcing your self-imposed early bedtime by firmly closing your door. Locking it would’ve brought unwanted attention, so you propped a foot stool in front of it. You wanted to be boisterously alerted if someone, probably Everly, was trying to gain entrance. You sat up in bed in a particular spot with the covers rolled back, your feet making a closed circle in front of you, your heels pressed together. You folded your hands in the middle of that circle, leaned forward a little and began to rock.
Back.
And forth.
And back.
And forth
It took about ten minutes of this introspective self-soothing routine for the ‘man’ to ‘appear.’ He was some sort of amorphous super hero lurking in the corner of your room, his arms crossed, always shadowed and always a little angry or maybe inconvenienced? It was hard to tell. And once he was there, he was everywhere. He was inside your mind and outside of it. He could read your thoughts and even predict them. You felt a hot sweaty shame between your legs when he was traversing the sick content of your brain. What you felt had to be wrong, but still you liked it. You knew it was wrong, and so did he, but that didn’t matter at all. He was going to rape you, and you were going to like it, and he knew that. He was there specifically because you liked it. And yet, you didn’t even know exactly what was happening every night in your imagination. You knew that ‘rape’ was a bad thing, that it made women get kidnapped and scream and sometimes die, and afterwards, sometimes they would march right by your house chanting and holding up signs that said take back the night. One time, your mom lit a candle and sat on the front porch when they filed past. Your little sister sat next to her with her own candle that wasn’t even lit. You weren’t given a candle, so you went back inside. It clearly wasn’t something for boys.
He wasn’t going to leave until it was over.
His rubbery superhero suit covered his entire body and face, all solid black, and he never took it off when he laid down on top of you. You put your hands over your head and held onto your headboard like he’d tied you up. You let the imagined rhythm of his shiny heavy body squeaking and rutting on top of you put you to sleep. And then one night when you were almost completely out, the warmth you felt building and building and building inside you dribbled into your underwear and made you feel a weird exhaustion. After that, you only kept one hand on the headboard. You were starting to solve the puzzle.
*********
That Sunday morning, your roommate was snoring in your loft, so you grabbed the books you needed, a few protein bars, a smart water, and your laptop and left before he could wake up to question you. You never studied in the dorm anyway because it was filled with underclassmen who just partied all the time. You headed for the graduate library, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and found the most secluded study room available. For privacy, you covered the tiny rectangle window in the door with newspaper and tape you kept in your backpack. You ate, drank-both actions breaking library rules-and then laid out the study materials for the two exams you were going to cram for, colored highlighters, lined index cards, and two identical pens. Before you silenced your phone, you took one more look at the text Justin sent you after you’d put your info in his phone:
We like you. Study hard. Talk soon.
As Justin had walked the long brick sidewalk back to their car, you texted him back to confirm, You mean it? This is for real? It sounded desperate, but you didn’t care. They’d picked you up, not the other way around.
Justin saw the text and turned around with a beautiful smile on his face. Seconds later, an answer came, Yep. Very.
You were inclined to believe him which made it much easier to forget all of it and start studying.
*********
On Monday evening around six p.m., you got a text from Justin indicating that you’d cleared all the background checks and were good to go. When you explained that you were on a dinner break, he asked if he could call you. The two of you chatted for about twenty minutes from your perch on a brick wall outside the library. He sounded excited, like he wanted to hear your voice. You felt the same as you told him, “My last exam is Wednesday at one o’clock. It’ll last until 3:30, worst case. I don’t have to take my Thursday exam; my grade is high enough.”
“Well, that’s awesome,” Justin said.
“That means that I’m available Wednesday night….”
He sounded excited, “Hmmm… Let me talk to Brian about that. I’ll get back to you asap.”
“Okay, I’m going back into the library to study, so just text me and let me know.”
“I will. Glad we got to talk,” and then Justin paused, “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
You smiled as you told him, “Same here. Hopefully Wednesday.” You jumped off the wall and made your way back inside the library to your same study room. Keeping the door’s little window covered led people to believe someone was always in there. You resisted the urge to jerk off before resuming your studies because you knew it would lead to a nap. Plus, it was more fun to pretend you didn’t have permission.
The follow up text from Justin came over an hour later:
Wednesday works. Brian has to work that night, so he said you and I can spend some one-on-one time at the loft. Can you be there around six?
You answered him immediately:
Absolutely. See you then.
*********
On Wednesday after your last exam, you went back to your dorm and began to get ready. You took a long shower all alone in your community bathroom, shaved, and spent more time than usual on your hair. You’d abstained from any self-stimulation since you said goodbye to your new friends on Sunday morning. It felt good to feel horny for something real. When you got back into your room post shower, there was a text on your phone from Brian…
A car service will pick you up at quarter to six where we dropped you off. Everything’s taken care of. They have your cell. Have fun tonight.
Below that text was a ping from the car company showing you their estimated arrival time. At least ten people who know you by name saw you waiting for your ride and watched you get into a mysterious black car. You’d figure out a lie to tell the ones who asked later.
With your backpack one again filled with a change of clothes, you climbed the stairs to their loft, only a little nervous when you knocked on the metal door.
*********
JUSTIN’S POV
The car service dropped you at Brian’s office around four o’clock because Brian had a break for about half an hour. There were several new campaigns launching at once which meant that you’d see much less of your husband this week. When you arrived, you found Brian standing outside the back door that led to a hidden patio outside his office. He was wearing latex gloves while smoking a cigarette. With each passing year, smoking was becoming an exponentially less desirable trait for anyone to have, ad execs probably being the last to go because they’re the ones that sold them in the first place. Nowadays, Brian doesn’t want clients to know that he smokes, so he goes to some crazy lengths to hide it. At work, he’ll don latex gloves and take maybe four puffs of it outside and get rid of it, his suit pocket always stocked with gum. He smiled when he saw you tap on the door and motioned you outside. The plan was for Brian to drive you to the loft now and then pick both you and Dill up around eleven and drop Dill back on campus. He began his elaborate cigarette disposal routine as you asked him, “Can you take me to that store so I can get some wine and some snacks? We have nothing at the loft.”
Brian smiled, “Sure, but you have to be quick about it.”
“I will be. I know.”
Brian knows which store you mean without you having to name it. It’s a bougie market that caters to the gay male demographic where everything is priced ridiculously high precisely so gays will buy it. Anytime either you or Brian shop there, you count how many guys you could’ve easily picked up and fucked in the car. “Two, maybe three,” you announced after walking out with two brown bags full of red and white wine, cheese you couldn’t pronounce, crackers, peanut butter, and protein bars. Brian helped you carry it up and put it away.
Once the task was complete--quick, dirty, and out of nowhere--Brian pulled you into his arms and kissed you hard before fucking you over the kitchen counter. “ I want your bottom full of cum when he gets here,” he declared as he came inside you, his fingers tearing through your hair. He didn’t care that you didn’t orgasm either; he was consumed with putting himself back together as if nothing had just transpired between you. Brian fancies himself a magician who's hiding his cigarettes and his quickies. On his way out of the door, he withdrew a white envelope out of his jacket pocket, “See this?"
“Yeah.”
He left it on the counter, “Open it with Dill when he gets here. Not before.”
“I should‘ve known you helping with the groceries was a trick,” you lamented, “Do I at least get a kiss goodbye?”
He blew you one, “I’m in a hurry. West coast conference call. I’ll see you later tonight.” You caught the kiss in your hand and put it immediately on your dick which Brian saw out of the corner of his eye, “No, no. No jerking off, none of that until he gets here.”
“Just get out of here,” you ordered him. Now you had to re-primp for the evening and there would be no time to set out the fucking cheese and crackers.
As usual, Brian reveled in your irritation with him. “Love you, Sunshine,” he quipped right before he shut the door.
*********
The knock on the door came at exactly six o’clock while you were changing into some extra underwear you had at the loft. That and a speedy hair rearranging was all you had time to do.
Dill had a smile on his face when you slid the door open. Your irritation of the last fifteen minutes evaporated when you saw him. Wearing a different pair of very expensive jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a distressed white logo, he was leaning against the wall outside the door silencing his phone, his biceps bigger than you remembered. He offered you a glance at the black screen. The small courtesy made you feel in control again. “Come in,” you offered as he stepped inside. “It’s good to see you.”
“Same here. I’ve been excited since we set this up,” Dill admitted as he stepped inside and set his belongings on the chair at the desk.
“I’ve restocked the fridge. Can I get you some wine or beer, and some ridiculously expensive cheese?” you offered.
He took a moment to ponder your question, “Ha, I just realized I didn’t eat. Nerves, I guess.” Dill stood on the opposite side of the counter. “A glass of wine would be great.”
“Red or white?”
“Red, please.” Dill sipped his wine and gobbled up the cheese slices as you were cutting them. Little did he know that he was leaning on the site of your raw anal fornication less than an hour ago.
You laughed at his appetite, “Okay, hang on. We have crackers, too.” You poured a full box onto a plate which amounted to less than twenty crackers. “Oh my god, that is ridiculous. I paid almost seven dollars for this box.”
Dill pointed to the receipt laying on the counter, “The prices at that store are bananas.”
You sighed, “I know. I guess I was trying to impress you.”
Dill teased, “Well, my mother always told me that you can tell a lot about a guy by his crackers.”
“If you’re really hungry, I have protein bars, too, and peanut butter or we can order something,” you offered.
“I’m good.” Dill said and then he picked up the bottle of wine and refilled both of your glasses. “So...what now?”
You reached for the envelope Brian left for the two of you. “Brian gave me this and said to only open it when you got here.”
“Hmm, interesting, maybe it’s a scavenger hunt.” You crossed the loft to the sofa with Dill behind you, ultimately sitting near one another about two feet apart. “Do you know what it is?” Dill asked.
“No clue, but if it is a scavenger hunt, I can promise you we’re both just supposed to find Brian’s cock and we win.”
Dill laughed, jabbing his elbow into your side in jest, “Open it,” he encouraged.
You tried to hide the trepidation inside you as you opened it and pulled out a standard sheet of paper containing a printed note from Brian which you read aloud as Dill leaned in over your shoulder:
”Gentlemen,
I’m sorry I can’t be with you tonight, but I’m sure you’ll do okay without me. Tomorrow night, I’d like to have Dill at our house at seven to tour our dungeon. I’m hoping he’ll want to spend some time down there with us after that.
Feel free to spend your time tonight doing whatever you want. My only caveat is that you make sure that whatever you do strengthens the bond between you because tomorrow night, you’re both going to need it.
-Brian”
Dill immediately questions you with excitement in his eyes, “What does that mean? Why do we need to bond?”
You were honest, “I have no idea. I didn’t even know that he would be home that early tomorrow night.”
“Okay. I’m assuming from the short amount of time I’ve known you guys, that if Brian tells us to do something, we’d better do it, right?”
“Yes. You’re correct.” You didn’t say anything after that because you didn’t know what to say. You were processing the information in real time and trying to decide what Brian’s real motivation was. Dill took your silence as a possible indication that he should be doing something different. He set his wine glass on the coffee table, and then asked you, “Should I get undressed? Should I kneel? …..Maybe both...?”
You were frozen at that point; your mind was packing up all your thoughts and stuffing them in a closet in the corner of your mind that was already full. That meant that once you went to retrieve them, everything in that fucking closet was going to fall out and go everywhere. Dill may be young, but he’s far from dense; he could read your vibe. Your body didn’t resist when he took your wine glass away and set it next to his on the coffee table. He questioned you quietly, his hand wrapped around your thigh, “Justin?”
Your face answered him, “Hmm?”
“Can I ask what you do for a living?”
It was an odd question at that moment, but it allowed you to walk away from the overflowing thoughts in the corner to a tidier spot in your mind; it allowed you to make eye contact and reconnect with him, “I’m an artist.”
His eyebrows bounced, “Oh yeah? What kind?”
“I paint and I draw. Sometimes I have small gallery shows in New York.”
“Wow, I would’ve never guessed that,” Dill remarked.
“What did you think I did?” you ask, relieved to have an easier line of questioning.
“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure you worked. I hope that doesn’t offend you--”
“It doesn’t. I’m about seventy percent ‘kept man’ at this point in my life.”
Dill laughed at your description, “That sounds wonderful. Lucky you.”
Yeah, lucky me. And lucky me is not going to let Brian get in my head when he’s not even here for fuck’s sake.
“I know, right? I basically have the perfect life.”
“Well, I’m going to tentatively agree with you until after I get a tour and perhaps an invitation to your dungeon,” Dill said, “And then I can reassess.”
“We’re really hoping for five stars,” you said.
“And a lengthy review about the hot blond guy?”
“I would kill for that. That would drive Brian insane.”
Dill mused, “Well, we’ll see what we can do.”
You looked at him all young and hot and smelling amazing on your sofa and laughed as you agreed with him, “Okay, we have about four hours to spend together tonight. Let’s take this conversation to the bedroom.”
Negotiations 39
NEGOTIATIONS 38
DILL’S POV
Last night was supposed to be the night you got what you thought you wanted. You, an introvert by nature, had come to terms with what you needed to feel satisfied, and at the very least, getting it required being less of one. The cyber route was comforting; it allowed you to take only small steps forward. After more than three weeks of this careful communication, you felt ready to pull the trigger.
The realization that this might go up in a puff of smoke had always been a small possibility in the back of your mind. But you still felt hurt, and embarrassed, and stupid when your guy no-showed.
None of those feelings, however, made the bulk of your urges go away. These needs you have, they’re always there. They never leave you alone. You assign their birth to twelve years ago, when you were ten, but you believe they existed unformed long before that. They had to, didn’t they?
First, they came in private times. You were the oldest child of two children. You’re younger sister, Everly, is three years younger. You had your own room, and at night starting when you were ten or eleven, you were fastidious about announcing your self-imposed early bedtime by firmly closing your door. Locking it would’ve brought unwanted attention, so you propped a foot stool in front of it. You wanted to be boisterously alerted if someone, probably Everly, was trying to gain entrance. You sat up in bed in a particular spot with the covers rolled back, your feet making a closed circle in front of you, your heels pressed together. You folded your hands in the middle of that circle, leaned forward a little and began to rock.
Back.
And forth.
And back.
And forth
It took about ten minutes of this introspective self-soothing routine for the ‘man’ to ‘appear.’ He was some sort of amorphous super hero lurking in the corner of your room, his arms crossed, always shadowed and always a little angry or maybe inconvenienced? It was hard to tell. And once he was there, he was everywhere. He was inside your mind and outside of it. He could read your thoughts and even predict them. You felt a hot sweaty shame between your legs when he was traversing the sick content of your brain. What you felt had to be wrong, but still you liked it. You knew it was wrong, and so did he, but that didn’t matter at all. He was going to rape you, and you were going to like it, and he knew that. He was there specifically because you liked it. And yet, you didn’t even know exactly what was happening every night in your imagination. You knew that ‘rape’ was a bad thing, that it made women get kidnapped and scream and sometimes die, and afterwards, sometimes they would march right by your house chanting and holding up signs that said take back the night. One time, your mom lit a candle and sat on the front porch when they filed past. Your little sister sat next to her with her own candle that wasn’t even lit. You weren’t given a candle, so you went back inside. It clearly wasn’t something for boys.
He wasn’t going to leave until it was over.
His rubbery superhero suit covered his entire body and face, all solid black, and he never took it off when he laid down on top of you. You put your hands over your head and held onto your headboard like he’d tied you up. You let the imagined rhythm of his shiny heavy body squeaking and rutting on top of you put you to sleep. And then one night when you were almost completely out, the warmth you felt building and building and building inside you dribbled into your underwear and made you feel a weird exhaustion. After that, you only kept one hand on the headboard. You were starting to solve the puzzle.
*********
That Sunday morning, your roommate was snoring in your loft, so you grabbed the books you needed, a few protein bars, a smart water, and your laptop and left before he could wake up to question you. You never studied in the dorm anyway because it was filled with underclassmen who just partied all the time. You headed for the graduate library, took the elevator to the fifth floor, and found the most secluded study room available. For privacy, you covered the tiny rectangle window in the door with newspaper and tape you kept in your backpack. You ate, drank-both actions breaking library rules-and then laid out the study materials for the two exams you were going to cram for, colored highlighters, lined index cards, and two identical pens. Before you silenced your phone, you took one more look at the text Justin sent you after you’d put your info in his phone:
We like you. Study hard. Talk soon.
As Justin had walked the long brick sidewalk back to their car, you texted him back to confirm, You mean it? This is for real? It sounded desperate, but you didn’t care. They’d picked you up, not the other way around.
Justin saw the text and turned around with a beautiful smile on his face. Seconds later, an answer came, Yep. Very.
You were inclined to believe him which made it much easier to forget all of it and start studying.
*********
On Monday evening around six p.m., you got a text from Justin indicating that you’d cleared all the background checks and were good to go. When you explained that you were on a dinner break, he asked if he could call you. The two of you chatted for about twenty minutes from your perch on a brick wall outside the library. He sounded excited, like he wanted to hear your voice. You felt the same as you told him, “My last exam is Wednesday at one o’clock. It’ll last until 3:30, worst case. I don’t have to take my Thursday exam; my grade is high enough.”
“Well, that’s awesome,” Justin said.
“That means that I’m available Wednesday night….”
He sounded excited, “Hmmm… Let me talk to Brian about that. I’ll get back to you asap.”
“Okay, I’m going back into the library to study, so just text me and let me know.”
“I will. Glad we got to talk,” and then Justin paused, “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
You smiled as you told him, “Same here. Hopefully Wednesday.” You jumped off the wall and made your way back inside the library to your same study room. Keeping the door’s little window covered led people to believe someone was always in there. You resisted the urge to jerk off before resuming your studies because you knew it would lead to a nap. Plus, it was more fun to pretend you didn’t have permission.
The follow up text from Justin came over an hour later:
Wednesday works. Brian has to work that night, so he said you and I can spend some one-on-one time at the loft. Can you be there around six?
You answered him immediately:
Absolutely. See you then.
*********
On Wednesday after your last exam, you went back to your dorm and began to get ready. You took a long shower all alone in your community bathroom, shaved, and spent more time than usual on your hair. You’d abstained from any self-stimulation since you said goodbye to your new friends on Sunday morning. It felt good to feel horny for something real. When you got back into your room post shower, there was a text on your phone from Brian…
A car service will pick you up at quarter to six where we dropped you off. Everything’s taken care of. They have your cell. Have fun tonight.
Below that text was a ping from the car company showing you their estimated arrival time. At least ten people who know you by name saw you waiting for your ride and watched you get into a mysterious black car. You’d figure out a lie to tell the ones who asked later.
With your backpack one again filled with a change of clothes, you climbed the stairs to their loft, only a little nervous when you knocked on the metal door.
*********
JUSTIN’S POV
The car service dropped you at Brian’s office around four o’clock because Brian had a break for about half an hour. There were several new campaigns launching at once which meant that you’d see much less of your husband this week. When you arrived, you found Brian standing outside the back door that led to a hidden patio outside his office. He was wearing latex gloves while smoking a cigarette. With each passing year, smoking was becoming an exponentially less desirable trait for anyone to have, ad execs probably being the last to go because they’re the ones that sold them in the first place. Nowadays, Brian doesn’t want clients to know that he smokes, so he goes to some crazy lengths to hide it. At work, he’ll don latex gloves and take maybe four puffs of it outside and get rid of it, his suit pocket always stocked with gum. He smiled when he saw you tap on the door and motioned you outside. The plan was for Brian to drive you to the loft now and then pick both you and Dill up around eleven and drop Dill back on campus. He began his elaborate cigarette disposal routine as you asked him, “Can you take me to that store so I can get some wine and some snacks? We have nothing at the loft.”
Brian smiled, “Sure, but you have to be quick about it.”
“I will be. I know.”
Brian knows which store you mean without you having to name it. It’s a bougie market that caters to the gay male demographic where everything is priced ridiculously high precisely so gays will buy it. Anytime either you or Brian shop there, you count how many guys you could’ve easily picked up and fucked in the car. “Two, maybe three,” you announced after walking out with two brown bags full of red and white wine, cheese you couldn’t pronounce, crackers, peanut butter, and protein bars. Brian helped you carry it up and put it away.
Once the task was complete--quick, dirty, and out of nowhere--Brian pulled you into his arms and kissed you hard before fucking you over the kitchen counter. “ I want your bottom full of cum when he gets here,” he declared as he came inside you, his fingers tearing through your hair. He didn’t care that you didn’t orgasm either; he was consumed with putting himself back together as if nothing had just transpired between you. Brian fancies himself a magician who's hiding his cigarettes and his quickies. On his way out of the door, he withdrew a white envelope out of his jacket pocket, “See this?"
“Yeah.”
He left it on the counter, “Open it with Dill when he gets here. Not before.”
“I should‘ve known you helping with the groceries was a trick,” you lamented, “Do I at least get a kiss goodbye?”
He blew you one, “I’m in a hurry. West coast conference call. I’ll see you later tonight.” You caught the kiss in your hand and put it immediately on your dick which Brian saw out of the corner of his eye, “No, no. No jerking off, none of that until he gets here.”
“Just get out of here,” you ordered him. Now you had to re-primp for the evening and there would be no time to set out the fucking cheese and crackers.
As usual, Brian reveled in your irritation with him. “Love you, Sunshine,” he quipped right before he shut the door.
*********
The knock on the door came at exactly six o’clock while you were changing into some extra underwear you had at the loft. That and a speedy hair rearranging was all you had time to do.
Dill had a smile on his face when you slid the door open. Your irritation of the last fifteen minutes evaporated when you saw him. Wearing a different pair of very expensive jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a distressed white logo, he was leaning against the wall outside the door silencing his phone, his biceps bigger than you remembered. He offered you a glance at the black screen. The small courtesy made you feel in control again. “Come in,” you offered as he stepped inside. “It’s good to see you.”
“Same here. I’ve been excited since we set this up,” Dill admitted as he stepped inside and set his belongings on the chair at the desk.
“I’ve restocked the fridge. Can I get you some wine or beer, and some ridiculously expensive cheese?” you offered.
He took a moment to ponder your question, “Ha, I just realized I didn’t eat. Nerves, I guess.” Dill stood on the opposite side of the counter. “A glass of wine would be great.”
“Red or white?”
“Red, please.” Dill sipped his wine and gobbled up the cheese slices as you were cutting them. Little did he know that he was leaning on the site of your raw anal fornication less than an hour ago.
You laughed at his appetite, “Okay, hang on. We have crackers, too.” You poured a full box onto a plate which amounted to less than twenty crackers. “Oh my god, that is ridiculous. I paid almost seven dollars for this box.”
Dill pointed to the receipt laying on the counter, “The prices at that store are bananas.”
You sighed, “I know. I guess I was trying to impress you.”
Dill teased, “Well, my mother always told me that you can tell a lot about a guy by his crackers.”
“If you’re really hungry, I have protein bars, too, and peanut butter or we can order something,” you offered.
“I’m good.” Dill said and then he picked up the bottle of wine and refilled both of your glasses. “So...what now?”
You reached for the envelope Brian left for the two of you. “Brian gave me this and said to only open it when you got here.”
“Hmm, interesting, maybe it’s a scavenger hunt.” You crossed the loft to the sofa with Dill behind you, ultimately sitting near one another about two feet apart. “Do you know what it is?” Dill asked.
“No clue, but if it is a scavenger hunt, I can promise you we’re both just supposed to find Brian’s cock and we win.”
Dill laughed, jabbing his elbow into your side in jest, “Open it,” he encouraged.
You tried to hide the trepidation inside you as you opened it and pulled out a standard sheet of paper containing a printed note from Brian which you read aloud as Dill leaned in over your shoulder:
”Gentlemen,
I’m sorry I can’t be with you tonight, but I’m sure you’ll do okay without me. Tomorrow night, I’d like to have Dill at our house at seven to tour our dungeon. I’m hoping he’ll want to spend some time down there with us after that.
Feel free to spend your time tonight doing whatever you want. My only caveat is that you make sure that whatever you do strengthens the bond between you because tomorrow night, you’re both going to need it.
-Brian”
Dill immediately questions you with excitement in his eyes, “What does that mean? Why do we need to bond?”
You were honest, “I have no idea. I didn’t even know that he would be home that early tomorrow night.”
“Okay. I’m assuming from the short amount of time I’ve known you guys, that if Brian tells us to do something, we’d better do it, right?”
“Yes. You’re correct.” You didn’t say anything after that because you didn’t know what to say. You were processing the information in real time and trying to decide what Brian’s real motivation was. Dill took your silence as a possible indication that he should be doing something different. He set his wine glass on the coffee table, and then asked you, “Should I get undressed? Should I kneel? …..Maybe both...?”
You were frozen at that point; your mind was packing up all your thoughts and stuffing them in a closet in the corner of your mind that was already full. That meant that once you went to retrieve them, everything in that fucking closet was going to fall out and go everywhere. Dill may be young, but he’s far from dense; he could read your vibe. Your body didn’t resist when he took your wine glass away and set it next to his on the coffee table. He questioned you quietly, his hand wrapped around your thigh, “Justin?”
Your face answered him, “Hmm?”
“Can I ask what you do for a living?”
It was an odd question at that moment, but it allowed you to walk away from the overflowing thoughts in the corner to a tidier spot in your mind; it allowed you to make eye contact and reconnect with him, “I’m an artist.”
His eyebrows bounced, “Oh yeah? What kind?”
“I paint and I draw. Sometimes I have small gallery shows in New York.”
“Wow, I would’ve never guessed that,” Dill remarked.
“What did you think I did?” you ask, relieved to have an easier line of questioning.
“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure you worked. I hope that doesn’t offend you--”
“It doesn’t. I’m about seventy percent ‘kept man’ at this point in my life.”
Dill laughed at your description, “That sounds wonderful. Lucky you.”
Yeah, lucky me. And lucky me is not going to let Brian get in my head when he’s not even here for fuck’s sake.
“I know, right? I basically have the perfect life.”
“Well, I’m going to tentatively agree with you until after I get a tour and perhaps an invitation to your dungeon,” Dill said, “And then I can reassess.”
“We’re really hoping for five stars,” you said.
“And a lengthy review about the hot blond guy?”
“I would kill for that. That would drive Brian insane.”
Dill mused, “Well, we’ll see what we can do.”
You looked at him all young and hot and smelling amazing on your sofa and laughed as you agreed with him, “Okay, we have about four hours to spend together tonight. Let’s take this conversation to the bedroom.”
Negotiations 39