Page 9

A S WE FIZZLE OUT OF ideas, Remington looks me in the eyes, gathering my focus.

“Hey, before we go any further, I want you to know something important: these things can trigger a lot of emotions, so even though you’re showing me how good you’re getting at saying ‘no,’ it’s okay if you have trouble with it again when you’re feeling a lot. If you reach a point where you feel like you can’t say ‘no’ out loud, do you think you’d feel comfortable enough either giving my hand a tight squeeze–” Remington demonstrates with a hard, fast squeeze of my hand. “Or by using a red light, yellow light, green light system?”

My shoulders soften. “Yes, I think so.”

“Okay, then we’re golden for today. We’ll come up with a safeword together too.”

With my hopes restored, I smile. “O-okay. I’d like that. For you too. I want you to feel safe.”

My words seem to catch Remington off guard. But it’s not a bad thing: a giddy lightness traces his eyes, loosening his laughter and widening his smiles.

We adjust to face each other as we continue to chat casually, tracing each other’s hands. But Remington’s tan skin looks so beautiful against my light olive skin that I place his forearm in my lap, tempted to give him closer attention. My fingers shake, but I trace the wispy ink at his wrist, following it down the back of his hand. Remington droops into the couch with a hum. I peek up at him in concern, but he gives me an encouraging smile.

“That’s nice,” he whispers.

I nod, dropping my palm to trace wider, tickling circles over his whole hand. He shivers, and I giggle beneath my breath, trading my tickling sweeps for a gentle massage.

“I forgot to say I want to try Shibari,” I mutter.

Remington’s eyes flutter open, only to find me wide-eyed and petrified.

He laughs. “Did you surprise yourself?”

I drop my forehead to his hand with a groan. “Y-yes.”

That sharp, bright laugh morphs into something warm and intimate, pulling me back in. My shoulders soften as I meet Remington’s gentle smile, deciding to lean against the couch with him until our heads are tilted just the same.

Remington slips his hand from mine to steal my palm, opting to massage it for me instead. “What about Shibari makes you curious?”

He gives me a long pause to answer. My breath speeds, but Remington is still waiting. Listening.

I grow even quieter. “You said we’d have to also talk about traumas, right?”

Remington’s sharp stare grows serious. But he’s soft with me, reaching across the small gap between us to stroke down my arm. “Yes, when you’re comfortable. And I’d be there to hear about what you’ve experienced, even if we don’t move forward with this.”

“I really want to listen about what you've experienced too.”

Remington stares at our hands for a long time, smoothing his body heat over the back of my hand with tender strokes of his fingers.

I’m recognizing his pattern; every time I acknowledge keeping him safe in return, he grows far too quiet for his playful self.

When we finally meet gazes again, his irises peer back with a powerlessness I haven’t seen in him yet.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he purrs.

My heart rate leaps out of control. I think I just made Remington feel safe despite whatever is whirring around in his head - and he called me his girl. When my lips part in desire, Remington’s eyes zip right to my mouth.

His stare morphs into a sultry warmth, just like his voice. “Come here.”

Nerves tingle down my limbs, but I scoot closer. “Where?”

Remington opens his arms, and I clamber into his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind my awkwardness; he releases a delighted sigh, swirling excitement through my ribcage. As his arms wrap around me, I buzz all over, unable to fathom how close I feel to him already. It’s not just everything we’ve experienced together in this short time - it’s how his low voice grows so delicate when I’m beside him. It’s his doting gaze, swelling my heart with affection. I already feel close to him, and the feeling expands into deeper intimacy by the second.

With his arms wrapped around me, Remington nuzzles into my hair. “I’ll tell you more about my past experiences too, but I want to make sure you have your chance to finish. Do you feel comfortable sharing more about what you were saying first?”

I swallow hard. “W-well, I– I know a lot of people get claustrophobic in small spaces, and it feels natural for them to hate it, but I’ve wanted to try Shibari for a while because I— I like feeling trapped in small, hidden spaces. A-and there’s a reason, um—”

My voice shrinks until I cut myself off. But Remington hums, rubbing my arms.

“Good job, baby. I’m right here,” he whispers.

Relishing in his tender patience, I huddle in closer. Remington alters our snuggle pile until I’m curled in his lap with my knees to my chest. It feels so reassuring that my secret spills out.

“If I’m squished into a small space, it feels like a big, safe hug, but a deeper one. Like a hug for my heart,” I whisper. “I like it because it feels like no one can reach me to hurt me.”

Remington huffs out a pained breath before squeezing me in the most tender, tightest hug. As his compression grows strong enough to make my lungs fight to flex, I sigh in delight.

“ Good ,” Remington breathes. “You’re so brave for sharing this with me. Thank you so much.”

Hot tears prick my eyes, but I’m smiling.

My eyelids flutter shut. “It feels so nice. You’re giving my heart a big hug right now too.”

“Good. I was trying to. I’ve got you.” Remington strokes my side, softening into a whisper. “Can I ask you something difficult about this, baby girl?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Do you feel like your dad could come find and hurt you now?”

Biting my lip, I hide my eyes against Remington’s neck. “No. It’s only when he loses his patience after bottling things up for a while.”

Remington hums. “Then what about your mom? I know you’ve mentioned she’s sick, but is she safe with him?”

My fists tighten. If I tell Remington about Mom, I’m not sure what he’ll think of me or my situation. What if he thinks I’m right to feel guilty, and that I should’ve done more to protect Mom? Or that I’m being too lenient and should cut myself off entirely from Dad?

But as my shoulders rise, Remington adjusts his cuddle on me, enveloping me just as warmly. “Baby girl, if you’re not comfortable talking about it, you’re more than welcome to say ‘no,’ remember?”

Every inch of me loosens. Closing my eyes, I mutter the shaky truth. “O-okay, thank you. I’d rather not talk about it yet.”

“Thank you for telling me, gorgeous.”

I smile, stroking the smoky tattoos up his collarbone and neck. We cuddle in silence for a while. With my ear against his chest, each airy pull of his lungs reminds me that this is real, and he’s this special to me already. How could he be single?

“Rem?”

“Yes, L.L.B.?”

My heart flips. “You don’t have to answer, but why aren’t you dating or playing with anyone else?” I gasp. “W-wait, no– That came out badly. I just mean– I don’t understand who wouldn’t want to be with you.”

Remington’s breath heightens against my cheek. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can hear the nerves in each tender inhale. He strokes my hair, and I nuzzle my head into the nook between his chin and collarbone.

“I don’t want to spend too much time talking about it today, but my last partner was into non-consent play, and as you now know, that’s a hard, hard limit for me.”

I’ve never heard Remington’s voice sound so small. “O-oh. And you broke up because of it?”

He sighs, loosening his grip on me. I straighten in concern, but he doesn’t look at me, his chin tipped to the ceiling like he’s laid back and relaxed. The taut muscles of his neck tell me it’s the opposite. “Only after she tried to force it on me over time. It slowly broke my fucking heart.”

Acid burns my chest. I instinctively place my hand over Remington’s heart, only to find it racing.

But Remington keeps talking. “I really do like role-playing, but I felt like she was sexually harassing me to be sexually harassed, and how do I even explain that to anyone? I lost so much enjoyment in playing that I gave up on participating, moved, and just became a bouncer to protect others from feeling that way. I didn’t expect to meet you and feel this way again, so— So it’s kind of new to me to trust again too.”

I feel so deeply for him. This must be why he never fully smiles.

But I’m missing a big piece in this equation. “What is it that you’d prefer the most instead for role-play?”

His head pops up. He shakes his short, dark hair, still not meeting my eyes. “I really like feeling needed, so role-playing rescue scenarios as the hero is my favorite. But it kind of scares me - allowing myself to have that selfish title of a hero. So it’s a little thrilling, but also holds a lot of shame for me. Which, of course, that asshole trainer made fun of me for wanting to play the hero with you on that first day we met without knowing how deep it cut.” Remington laughs, but I rub his chest.

“You were my hero. And it wasn’t roleplay. It was real. You saved part of me that day I didn’t know needed saving.”

He finally looks at me. My lungs swell, filled with courage from the deep trust in his stare.

My voice quivers. “I feel like you’re saving my heart now too. It’s been so scary to challenge my fears about how I look and sound, but the more time we spend together, the freer I feel to exist.”

Shutting his eyes with a heavy exhale, Remington breathes, “ Lilibeth . God, you’re such a sweetheart.”

His hand on my shoulder urges me back for another cuddling hug, and I happily return my cheek to his chest. But this time, I tilt my head enough to keep staring him in the eyes. He gazes down at me with a soft chuckle, nestling me closer before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The longer we stare, the deeper the need I have to kiss him.

But Remington breaks into a devilish grin. “As your next challenge, you can be the one to kiss me first.”

I groan. He’s right; I’m absolutely terrified to kiss him myself. “I really want to, right now, but...” I sigh.

He giggles, stroking my cheek. “That’s fine. We’ve got time.”

We whisper about the rest of our plans for the week for a while, mere inches from each other’s lips.

But before we leave, panic strikes my heart.

Remington freezes. “What’s wrong?”

My heart aches. “I’m so sorry, I– I didn’t get to ask if you also had another reason for wanting to feel like a rescuer before you broke up or if it started with your ex. I– I know that’s a lot, but– But I wanted you to feel heard too. I’m so, so sorry I missed that at first.”

Remington stays perfectly still, allowing the silence to stretch between us. The longer I sit facing his shocked, gaping stare, the deeper my heart aches.

Did he really not expect me to care about him back? Have I touched on something too deep?

But when Remington speaks, his tone remains even. “Sorry, I still have a really bad habit of deflecting all focus off me after all that happened with my ex. My therapist thought I was trying to protect myself by being funny or distracting or something, but all I know is that I just cause more problems that way in the long run when someone actually cares. Except I— I still feel like it’s rare to find someone who genuinely does, like you do, so I almost don’t know what else to do.”

He still doesn’t move, so I remain motionless with him, keeping him held close. I don’t know what else to do either.

“But yeah, there’s something even deeper that started my interest in all this too. I’ll tell you about it sometime soon,” Remington mutters.

The sorrow laced into his voice guts me.

All I can do is stroke his back. “Okay. Thank you.”