Page 43 of Ctrl+Alt Submit
AARYN
I wait until I hear the shower running before I put my head in my hands.
I wonder if everybody who tries this kind of kinky shit feels like they’re doing it all wrong sometimes.
It’s mean of me, but I kind of hope they do.
Because in spite of what Errol said before about me being a natural, I actually suck at this.
That’s a kick in the ego, but that’s the least of my worries. I’m more preoccupied about what happens if I can’t give Errol what he needs. And I’m scared to death of hurting him again.
I’m sitting up in bed when he comes in, looking abashed. He’s naked except for a towel around his waist, which he hangs over the doorknob a second before he throws himself at me.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my chest. He was clutching the cage when he tackled me, but now he lets go of it to wrap his arms around me.
“ Stop . Please. I’m the one who should be apologizing,” I tell him. “You’re perfect. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You didn’t either, though,” he says.
I hum in contemplation, stroking his hair. “I kind of did. I feel like I should’ve known, or should’ve thought through that scene better. Or asked if you had any limits like that.”
“But I didn’t know that would upset me until it happened,” he counters. “You’d have to be a mind-reader and be able to see the future.” He picks his head up to look at me as a tiny smile creeps onto his face. “I know you’re brilliant, but that might even be above your head.”
“Huh. Maybe right about that.” Whenever Errol praises my intellect, I feel a little bad.
His brain might not have the same capacity for calculation as mine, but he’s a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for.
Like so many other things that break my heart about him, he just didn’t have anybody in his life who gave enough of a shit to encourage him to push himself or dream big.
“Um —” Errol’s tone is timid. “If you’re not mad, would you put the cage back on me?”
“Promise me it’s not because you feel like you need to punish yourself for something.”
He shakes his head as he lifts his head off my chest again to look at me. “It’s not. I swear.”
He looks sincere, and his eyes are tranquil again. I’m afraid that outright refusing him at this point will just make him feel bad. “Why don’t you leave it off tonight and I’ll put it back on for you tomorrow morning, OK?”
He nods. I study his face, wishing I could understand the inexplicable. “Why do you want it so badly?” I finally ask.
“I just love you so much, I want to give all of myself to you. It makes me feel special that you let me give you this. I feel secure —like I have proof that you love me.”
That sounds so backasswards. For someone as sweet and big-hearted as he is, Errol’s mind sure takes some dark, twisty turns of logic. “But you know I would love you just as much without it,” I say. When he doesn’t answer, I press him. “Right?”
He looks a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “But sometimes it’s just nice to have that extra security.”
I don’t understand how my heart can be so full and so sad at the same time. “I can just tell you how much I love you anytime you need to hear it, too, Babydoll.”
Errol nods as he scoots himself down and under the covers. I follow suit, but even with him next to me, I can’t block out the thought shouting itself at me: I'm not any good at this.
“I’m sorry, I feel like I don't know what I’m doing. Wouldn’t you rather be with somebody who’s experienced with this stuff?” I blurt out.
Errol looks surprised but answers without hesitating. “No.”
“You’re just saying that.”
He shakes his head. “No, I mean it. Guys who have some experience with BDSM can be the worst. They think they know everything, so they never stop to ask or check in. You always do. It makes me feel safe, like I can let my guard down and let myself get lost in the moment.”
I press my chest to his back, slipping an arm around his waist to spoon him. “You feel good,” I murmur. He hums in response as I nuzzle against him, feathering kisses along the back of his neck.
“I like you like this, too,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to think I’m just into this — into you — because of, like, the lingerie and stuff. You know, because I’d only been with women before you.” I trail off, cringing internally. Those words sounded a lot better in my head.
Errol shakes his head. “I didn’t think that, actually.”
I huff out a sigh. “I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not.” He reaches back and grabs my hand, pulling it toward him and pressing his lips to my knuckles.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what turns you on,” I tell him.
“I just really don’t want to fuck things up and make you regret it.
Because I feel like I haven’t always deserved that trust. I should’ve been a better friend after I left for college.
” My voice drops to a whisper. “I’m sorry. ”
“Please — you’ve apologized like a million times. You don’t need to anymore. Just — don’t ever go anywhere.”
I kiss the back of his ear. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.” I wiggle my arm free to let my hand slide lower. “Because I love everything about you. Including this big dick,” I murmur as my hand wraps around his shaft.
Errol’s body tenses in my embrace. I immediately move my hand to his hip instead, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.
“Sorry. I just wanted to — I don’t know, maybe this sounds stupid, but I was thinking maybe I could just sort of hold it until we fall asleep?
You know, instead of you wearing the cage. ”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “Shit. That probably sounded really weird, didn’t it?”
“No.” He sounds like he means it. “I actually — I wouldn’t mind that, if you want.”
Relief floods through me. “OK, baby.” I pull him tighter against my chest and wrap my hand around his cock again. “If you change your mind, just let me know, OK?”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles, sounding sleepy. His dick swells in my hand at first, then softens as his breathing evens out and his body relaxes.
Why does holding him like this feel so reassuring? I can’t understand it, but I also know I don’t want to let him go. I’m still puzzling over it as I drift off.