Page 119
Story: Knot Playing Fair 2
“I... didn’t expect it to happen so soon,” he said, not even pretending to be ignorant of the subject of the conversation. “But it was good, Luca.Reallygood.”
The familiar flutter of panic—of feeling as though I was being left behind—tightened around my lungs.
“I thought you were scared of hurting her,” I said, not liking how hoarse my voice sounded.
His eyes skittered away, and he examined the stained brickwork of the alley wall for a long moment.
“Took some precautions, didn’t I?” he muttered, still not meeting my gaze. “Been talking to the therapist about things.”
“Precautions?” I asked in disbelief. “What, like—”
“Handcuffs and a ball gag. That way I couldn’t lose control and hold her down. I couldn’t lose control and bite her.”
My jaw clicked shut, a wave of lightheadedness making me sway as I completely failed to avoid picturing it in my head. An instant later, a wave of nausea followed as I understood what he’d let Mia do to him.
“You... you let someone have sex with you while you were helpless?” I could hear how appalled I sounded.
At that, he met my eyes again.
“Yeah.” A small frown furrowed his brow. “Luca... I wouldn’t’ve done it with just anyone. But it wasMia. She kept asking if what she was doing was all right. If I wanted it. Every step of the way. She would’ve stopped if I’d said no.”
Why was my heart pounding so goddamned fast?
I swallowed hard, flashing back to every time I’d let Byron restrain me, trusting that he wouldn’t touch me while I was warming his cock or watching him fuck someone else. That felt...different, even though I was suddenly having a difficult time determining why.
Emiel’s frown deepened. “You’re upset.”
It wasn’t exactly a deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes, but it was still unexpected coming from Emiel.
“We’re supposed to be trauma-bros,” I joked weakly. “What am I going to do if I’m the only one in the house who’s a mental health disaster?”
God, I was so pathetic.
Emiel lowered himself to sit on the top step, still seemingly untouched by the winter chill. “You’re not,” he said. “But... Luca. We’re all supposed to be a pack. Mia knows it. I think you know it, too. And I’ve been thinkin’, how do we make it so that can actually happen?”
I took a step backward, unable to help myself.
“It can’t,” I said reflexively. “Not forus.”
“You want it to, though?” Emiel asked, like someone who already knew the answer.
I wrapped my arms around myself, releasing a fresh waft of Earl Grey tea laced with cinnamon to my nostrils. My eyes burned, and I blinked rapidly against the threat of tears.
“You know I do,” I whispered, trembling with something that wasn’t the cold. “But what kind of monster subjects people they care about to the kind of shit that lives inside our heads?”
Emiel took a deep breath and let it out, his barrel chest expanding and contracting. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about,” he said.
“And...?” I tried to inject sarcasm into the word, but in the end, I just sounded desperate.
His dark eyes held mine in the gray light of the alley. “What if we learned to control the bond... by practicing with someone who alreadyknewthat kind of trauma? Someone who wouldn’t be shocked.”
I blinked, staring at him for several seconds before the penny dropped.
At which point, I felt like I’d just been hit by a bus.
“You don’t mean...” I began uncertainly.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “But I just want you to think about it for now. Maybe talk about it with Dr. Mushimba. If... y’know, if you want to.”
The familiar flutter of panic—of feeling as though I was being left behind—tightened around my lungs.
“I thought you were scared of hurting her,” I said, not liking how hoarse my voice sounded.
His eyes skittered away, and he examined the stained brickwork of the alley wall for a long moment.
“Took some precautions, didn’t I?” he muttered, still not meeting my gaze. “Been talking to the therapist about things.”
“Precautions?” I asked in disbelief. “What, like—”
“Handcuffs and a ball gag. That way I couldn’t lose control and hold her down. I couldn’t lose control and bite her.”
My jaw clicked shut, a wave of lightheadedness making me sway as I completely failed to avoid picturing it in my head. An instant later, a wave of nausea followed as I understood what he’d let Mia do to him.
“You... you let someone have sex with you while you were helpless?” I could hear how appalled I sounded.
At that, he met my eyes again.
“Yeah.” A small frown furrowed his brow. “Luca... I wouldn’t’ve done it with just anyone. But it wasMia. She kept asking if what she was doing was all right. If I wanted it. Every step of the way. She would’ve stopped if I’d said no.”
Why was my heart pounding so goddamned fast?
I swallowed hard, flashing back to every time I’d let Byron restrain me, trusting that he wouldn’t touch me while I was warming his cock or watching him fuck someone else. That felt...different, even though I was suddenly having a difficult time determining why.
Emiel’s frown deepened. “You’re upset.”
It wasn’t exactly a deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes, but it was still unexpected coming from Emiel.
“We’re supposed to be trauma-bros,” I joked weakly. “What am I going to do if I’m the only one in the house who’s a mental health disaster?”
God, I was so pathetic.
Emiel lowered himself to sit on the top step, still seemingly untouched by the winter chill. “You’re not,” he said. “But... Luca. We’re all supposed to be a pack. Mia knows it. I think you know it, too. And I’ve been thinkin’, how do we make it so that can actually happen?”
I took a step backward, unable to help myself.
“It can’t,” I said reflexively. “Not forus.”
“You want it to, though?” Emiel asked, like someone who already knew the answer.
I wrapped my arms around myself, releasing a fresh waft of Earl Grey tea laced with cinnamon to my nostrils. My eyes burned, and I blinked rapidly against the threat of tears.
“You know I do,” I whispered, trembling with something that wasn’t the cold. “But what kind of monster subjects people they care about to the kind of shit that lives inside our heads?”
Emiel took a deep breath and let it out, his barrel chest expanding and contracting. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about,” he said.
“And...?” I tried to inject sarcasm into the word, but in the end, I just sounded desperate.
His dark eyes held mine in the gray light of the alley. “What if we learned to control the bond... by practicing with someone who alreadyknewthat kind of trauma? Someone who wouldn’t be shocked.”
I blinked, staring at him for several seconds before the penny dropped.
At which point, I felt like I’d just been hit by a bus.
“You don’t mean...” I began uncertainly.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “But I just want you to think about it for now. Maybe talk about it with Dr. Mushimba. If... y’know, if you want to.”
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