Page 101 of Just Business

Justin ran his finger, nail first, up the inside of Eli’s right foot.

Eli arched his back and practically levitated into the air. Lavi took off, clearing the coffee table in a blur of white-and-black fur, and the book by Eli’s side hit the floor with an audiblethump.

Nice. Very nice.

“Justin!” Eli’s voice pitched about an octave higher than normal, his eyes wide, and so far from his unflappable demeanor. Justin grinned. That was one of the delights of this round of dating—seeing behind Eli’s mask.

Eli grabbed Justin’s shirt and dragged him forward. “You little... fuck!” He gulped air.

Justin giggled.

“You’re so asking for it!” A mixture of surprise and annoyance, in Eli, but also a hint of joy.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “I am.” He shifted enough to press his hardening length against Eli’s thigh.

Eli loosened his grip. “So you are.” His voice fell back into his normal range and he pressed up against Justin. “But just what are you asking for?”

“Anything you’d like.” They hadn’t set foot in the playroom since the day Justin had walked out. Not together, anyway. Sometimes Justin walked in when Eli wasn’t home, to look and remember. He wanted that again. Eli’s punishment. The pain and oblivion. The joy.

Eli stroked his cheek. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

He couldn’t say it yet. “What number am I up to?”

Eli’s focus turned inward for a moment. “Seven. After that little maneuver?” He refocused. “Ten or eleven. I haven’t decided just how upset I am yet.”

Eleven, hopefully. Justin’s heart sped up. “I want that.” Eli had to understand what Justin meant.

Fingers grazed Justin’s lips. “Want what?”

Same conversation as always. Justin laid his head against Eli’s chest. “You know. You’ve known.”

“I do.” Eli stroked his hair. “But I want you to say it. Words have power.”

Like safewords. The echo of his own voice sounded in his mind.

This had to end. He’d finished his capstone. He was going to move in. If he couldn’t ask now, then when?

“I want you to whip me. Or cane me. Or both. I want you to tie me up and—” He pushed himself up. “I want you to punish me.”

Eli raised a brow. “Punish you for what?”

“For leaving you.” He’d planned to sayFor waking you, but the truth slipped out.

Eli’s expression softened. “Oh, Just.” A whisper of words. “I’m not mad at you for that.”

“I know you’re not.” His throat tightened. “But I’m mad at me. And I need...” No more words came. He could only search Eli’s face and hope he understood.

It wasn’t right, this need. Hell, his therapist told him none of what had happened was his fault. But he’d feel a lot better if he could get the guilt out of his head.

Or could drown it out—drown Francis out—with pain and joy and Eli’s approval. Their pleasure.

In the soft voice Eli used when he whisperedI love youwhen he thought Justin was asleep, Eli spoke. “Then eleven it is, Mr. White.”

He melted into Eli’s arms. “I love you, too.”

Eli kissed his forehead. “Upstairs. Now.”

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