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I fit in their place, with their very lacking-in-everything kitchen and the TV they barely used.

It had been less than a month, and Dylan kept giving me weird looks whenever I brought up Claude’s name—or whenever I looked a certain way because he caught me thinking about them, honestly. It didn’t matter. For once, it really didn’t. Being here, doing whatever I was doing with them, made sense.

“Just whisk properly, please.”

This was only our second “baking” date. The first one had ended up consisting of me doing everything while Claude watched. Maybe we should get back to that format. It felt safer, for everyone and everything involved.

“I wanna use my strap-on on you tonight,” Claude announced.

I squeaked, almost dropping the cup of water I’d just filled up. “And this is the best moment to let me know?”

“Obviously.” Claude shrugged. “I have a ribbed dildo I think you’ll really like.”

I needed air. I seriously needed air.

I also needed them to stop teasing me, or…

Before I could string words together, Claude was there. They took the bowl from me and placed it on the counter, then they were walking me backwards until my ass pressed against the sink.

“Breathe,” they reminded me.

I nodded. Right after, their lips were on me. I was getting more used to their brand of physical touch, more familiar with the way their relationship with touch worked. Claude had explained it better the other day, too. As they’d said the first night, they didn’t look at me and want to jump my bones, but they craved being close to me, and they craved pleasing me.

I knew there was more there—more that had to do with the video they weren’t ready to talk about yet. I could ignore it, though. It turned out that it was much easier to focus on the way I felt—and the way Claude made me feel—rather than what should or shouldn’t be when I settled into a… role.

To be honest, D/s was still strange to think about. I really hadn’t accounted for any of this when I dared to attend the munch at Randy’s. It had just been an experiment, something to do so that I could feel proud of myself for it later. I never thought I’d find myself with a Domm—or that I’d find one in a YouTuber I used to follow back in college.

A sigh escaped my lips as Claude’s hands gripped my waist tighter.

“I just wanna point out, you’re the one who said our relationship had to be more than sex.”

Claude nipped my jaw. “You’re very distracting.”

“Thank you?” My voice went higher, breathier.

It didn’t take much for Claude to take me there.

Subspace.

It was the one thing in kink I seemed to have grown excessively familiar with over the past few weeks. Claude teased that I was a natural. They once mentioned it took some subs a lot of training to go as deep as I did. I just ignored them. Even if it was the result of over-the-top hormones that didn’t know how to chill, subspace just made sense to me.

It was safe, and quiet, but it was also one of the most exhilarating states of mind.

“We should finish up these muffins.”

“We’ve barely started,” I had enough presence of mind to point out.

Claude just shrugged, that smirk making a comeback to their face. “What I said.”

“Uh huh.”

Unlike Claude, their back already turned as they strode back to the kitchen island so they could keep whisking that egg—properly, this time—I needed a second to regroup.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes. Claude had just taken the muffins out of the oven. They seemed to be doing just fine, whereas I couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d said. The strap-on, and the ribbed dildo, and the way their body felt when they pressed against me.

“Are we going to your room now?”