Page 22 of A Gold Medal in Love

“You would never,” I say, the words slipping out confidently before I can stop them.

“Not on purpose,” Blake confirms. “I would also apologize as soon as you called me out.”

“I know that,” I say, realizing it’s true. Idofeel betrayed by their sudden departure from the bathroom, though. “Maybe I should call you out for last night, then,” I icily add.

Blake drags a hand down their face as they groan. “All right. Sit down. Let’s talk it through.” They walk to their bed and sprawl lazily out onto the covers, gesturing for me to sit across from them.

I sit gingerly on the edge of mine, folding my hands into my lap, and stare right into their eyes. Blake tries to hold the contact, but their eyes jump around my face.

“I’m sorry that was a bit hot-and-cold of me. I shouldn’t have followed you into that bathroom, I shouldn’t have trapped you against that sink, and I certainly shouldn’t have almost kissed you,” they lay out with the seriousness they show whenever the situation requires it.

“That’swhat you’re apologizing for? What the fuck, Blake? I want an apology fornotkissing me. I want an apology forleaving,” I refute, my hackles rising.

Blake throws their head back, groaning. “Listen. We shouldn’t do this.”

“Oh, do go on. Why shouldn’t we fuck? Do illuminate me,” I bite out.

“For a couple of reasons, I feel like. But the biggest one is that I don’t think I can do vanilla with you,” Blake sighs.

“I don’t know what that means. You don’t do vanilla?” I scoff at the excuse.

“That is absolutely not what I said. I said I don’t think I can do vanillawith you,” they explain, searching my eyes.

Goosebumps immediately cover my body, and I tuck myself further into my sweater. “What—” I cough. “---What do you want to do with me?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?” Blake hesitates.

“I’m not a child,” I huff, folding my arms again.

“Oh, Cupcake, I’m fully aware,” they respond as a wicked smile creeps onto their lips.

“So tell me,” I bluster while I’m dying inside.

“I want you underneath me begging. I want you on your knees, face pressed to my boots. I want you waiting for my every command,” Blake says in a low voice, that wicked smile erased but a fresh gleam in their eyes. “Do you know what D/s dynamics are?”

“I think so,” I say shakily, trying to catch my breath. “I take it you’re the ‘D?’”

“That’s right,” Blake nods. “Very good, Imani.”

The surprising praise from them when they’re in this authoritarian role makes a whimper sneak out.

“That,” Blake snaps, not missing a single beat. “I think you’re a natural submissive. That’s why I don’t think I can do vanilla with you.”

“But…” I don’t even know what I want to argue with. I’m so confused. I started this conversation being defensive after rejection, but now… I’m feverishly hot. And I don’t know what to do.

“I know my limitations, and I have to be the responsible party here. I’maDominant, even if I’m notyourDominant. So, no, Imani. We will not be kissing. We will not be fucking. We will not…” Blake trails off and blows out a heavy breath. “We will not be enacting any of the various fantasies I have concerning you. Just. No.”

I want to say how much I want them. But apparently not only am I a natural submissive, whatever the fuck that means, but I’m also just your average queer girl. Sure, a sapphic is telling me that they find it hard to control themselves around me, but what if they don’tlike melike me? What if this attraction is all in my head and I embarrass myself? No, I can’t let on how much I like them. Furthermore, Iwon’t.

Okay, it also flashes into my mind to get on my knees and kneel for Blake, so maybe I kind of get the point about the submission. Do other girls get into the idea of begging so freely? I don’t make that a habit in my daily life. I’mImani fucking Gray. But Blake makes me feel… like I can just… Something about the way they command a room, maybe?

Then I come back to something Blake said. “What are these various fantasies?” I ask, turning my nose up with the question as though I’m not even into this—like I’m not sitting here about to fucking cream myself.

They throw their head back and laugh. “Nope. Cupcake, you are so not reeling me in. We had our adult conversation about it. We don’t need to go any further with this, got it?”

I can tell the spell is broken. Blake’s mind is made up. This is the end of that conversation. Too bad the discussion itself was hotter than most of the sex I’ve had—and I’m not exactly inexperienced, despite my age.

Blake stands up, and I have the genuine torture of watching them peel their regulation tracksuit off their tattooed, muscular body and changing into well-worn boyfriend jeans, a cuffed blue tee that I don’t notice matches their eyes at all, thank you, and a St. Louis Blues snapback.