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  Marco felt the tension in his body ease. He would have been gutted if Greg turned him down, and his relief now as in equal proportion.

  And he really liked the idea of Greg “making him happy,” whatever that was a euphemism for.

  Marco smoothed Greg’s hair back, giving a moment to express his sincerity in the look between them. You make me very happy just by being you. Regarding my body, I can tell you how to touch me. In fact, since I’m a Dom, I probably will tell you how to touch me.

  Greg smiled hesitantly, then more broadly. He liked something about what Marco had just said, and Marco suspected it was that hint of command.

  It seemed like everything was back on track, but Marco needed a little bit more confirmation. Do you still want this?

  Greg looked shyly up at him. I want this.

  It looked like he wanted to say more.

  I… I don’t want to make you feel like you’re an experiment.

  Marco started to interrupt, but he waved him away.

  Not because of the trans thing. I trust that you’ll show me what to do. I meant because… I feel closer to you than anyone else in a long time, but I’m still not sure if I can do this.

  So, it is a bit of an experiment?

  I guess.

  Marco knew he could have felt angry about this, but instead he appreciated the honesty. I don’t mind being your experiment. You’re not committing to anything more than a scene. And if it doesn’t work out, we can stop any time. No hard feelings.

  Greg looked relieved.

  Thank you. I appreciate that. I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I was using you.

  I’m not worried if you are, as long as you’re honest about it. I don’t feel used, though. You’ve shared a lot with me tonight.

  Greg nuzzled into his shoulder and he wondered how much of a Daddy Greg’s Dom had been. Greg certainly seemed to be seeking out comfort, which he was happy to provide.

  Marco tilted back Greg’s head and finally gave in to the hungry kiss he’d been holding back all evening. They’d both been vulnerable with each other in a way that he usually wasn’t with hook ups, even if what he’d disclosed wasn’t anything on the level of what Greg had shared. It felt like Greg was a little bit more than a hook-up, though.

  No, a lot more.

  Marco felt like he could drown in this boy. Their connection raced through him like a current as he licked and bit at his lips, and then demanded entry to the sub’s mouth.

  Greg opened readily, his responses that perfect mixture of eager and pliant. He followed Marco’s lead while still taking everything he could get.

  Marco would have been happy making out all night.

  But even more, he wanted to give Greg what he wanted. Everything that he wanted.

  I’m happy to just do this, he said honestly. But I’d also be honored to do a scene with you. I think that the release will be good for you, and I’d like to share that.

  Greg nodded, already back to that soft, adoring look he’d had before.

  What do you enjoy?

  You choose. Greg gave a slight shrug and then glanced downward. Embarrassment or submission?

  Either way, it seemed that it would be Marco’s job to direct the conversation. How about you tell me what you like, then. What are your favorites? What are your limits?

  Greg met his gaze again, but he looked unsure. Normal stuff, I guess?

  Of course. He’d probably never had to have this conversation, or he’d had it twenty years ago. No doubt his ex knew all his preferences and they didn’t need to talk about it.

  What was in the porn you watched? That seemed like a good start.

  Greg blushed beet red and looked away. Not just with embarrassment, but shame and worry. That was not the reaction he’d been expecting. A little healthy embarrassment was cute, but Greg looked like he was almost afraid.

  Hey, we don’t kink shame.

  Greg’s eyes darted to his and then away.

  Should I guess then? I’ll tell you right now, I’ve been with a lot of different people with a lot of different interests, and I’ve met people with even more. You’re not likely to surprise me.

  Greg still didn’t offer a response. So, whatever this was, it apparently wasn’t what Greg would term “normal stuff.”

  Puppy play? he guessed as a starting place. Greg seemed to need someone to take care of him right now, and Marco could stretch his own interests a little bit to give him what he needed. Diapers and a sippy cup? Someone taking care of you?

  Greg shook his head. Probably the opposite of that. You’re… not going to like it. It’s not like, a Daddy, thing.

  Don’t assume that, Marco gently corrected. He decided to keep guessing, preparing himself not to display any opinions, positive or negative, regardless of what Greg said. Impact play? Are you into pain?

  I am, but that wasn’t it.

  Marco could only assume that Greg wanted him to figure it out on some level, or he would have just cut off the conversation. He kept guessing. Something rough? A group scene? Dub con? He finger-spelled the last option.

  Greg watched him, as though trying to gauge his reaction. One of those had been right. Marco nodded his encouragement.

  I… we… Greg indicated another person. Marco realized that this was probably harder for Greg because whatever he’d been watching reminded him of something that he’d done with his Dom.

  He cupped Greg’s cheek and signed with his other hand. Only tell me if you want to.

  If they were in a relationship, he’d eventually force him to tell all his depraved little fantasies, but that wasn’t what he needed tonight.

  Greg seemed to gather up his courage. It was a role play. With a father and son. Consensual non-consent.

  Marco could see Greg holding his breath, waiting for his reaction. CNC made a lot of people jittery. And even in the kink world, people could sometimes be judgmental about role playing incest, like their personal taboos trumped safe, sane, and consensual.

  Thank you for sharing that with me, he said, gently. Greg still looked nervous. I bet it was hot, he added. It wasn’t Marco’s favorite kink, but he could get behind it for the right person with enough mental preparation. It took a lot out of him, but he’d done it before and could probably do it again.

  Greg gave him a tentative smile.

  I don’t think that’s what you need tonight, though. This evening has already been pretty intense.

  Greg agreed emphatically.

  How would you feel about something a bit more relaxed?

  That sounds like a better idea.

  Good. Marco could see the scene starting to take shape. If you’d like to come back to my place, I have some ideas that might be a better fit for where you are.

  Greg looked at him like he’d hung the moon.

  Chapter 4 Greg

  Greg felt like he was observing himself from the outside. He was in another man’s car, driving to another man’s house. A man that wasn’t Richard.

  When he’d been in the moment, in the heady, nostalgic atmosphere of Escape, pumped up on the immediacy of his encounter with Marco, everything had been real. Fresh.

  But then they’d collected their belongings and taken a break for the restrooms. Outside, they’d discussed the banal reality of addresses and cars and sending his location to a friend. (Brett, as if he would care.) And all that time, he’d felt himself drifting further and further away.

  He could feel all his emotions swirling around inside—excitement about Marco, sorrow for Richard, anxiety that the whole evening would be a disaster, and arousal in the hope that it wouldn’t—but he was outside of it, too.

  Observing.

  He knew that it worried Richard when he got like this. Even when he was a little bit quiet or out of sorts, Richard would start to push in and fix it. First, Richard would push him to talk about it. Sometimes that annoyed him, but he knew that communication was important.

  If he still didn’t engage, Sir would put him
on his knees and give him a few smacks. It always brought him back. Eventually.

  But Marco hadn’t seemed to notice.

  He watched Marco’s graceful hands in the flicker of the streetlights that shone through the windshield. The darkness made communication difficult, even when he exaggerated his signs away from his body. But it was late enough that there wasn’t much traffic, so they didn’t need to stop talking so that Marco could concentrate on the road.

  He watched himself handing over information to a stranger as Marco seemed to go down an encyclopedic list that he held in his head. Interests. Limits. Things he’d tried. Things he hadn’t.

  None of it seemed real.

  Maybe it was better that Marco didn’t notice. Since this was an experiment anyway.

  At last, Marco explained that he was looking for parking, and then pulled into a spot the next block down.

  Instead of getting out of the car, Marco turned toward him. Do you want me to take you home?

  Fear shot through the soft cotton wrapped around Greg’s brain, a knife cutting a direct path to his encased emotions. No! No. I want to be here.

  He realized suddenly that he did. Which didn’t make all those confusing emotions any clearer.

  Marco gave him a long, appraising look. Let’s go inside and talk, first.

  Panic still gripped him. Had Marco changed his mind?

  Greg started to open the car door, anxious to get out before Marco could drive him home.

  Marco’s warm palm on his thigh stopped him. He froze, then looked back.

  Wait. I’ll come around and help you out.

  Greg wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. Clearly, he was going to wait. That was never in question. It was nice to have someone else make the decisions.

  Sinking back into the seat, he realized that the simple command, and its message of nurturing, were already helping to calm him.

  But that analytical part of his brain was noticing differences. Richard never helped him out of the car. Richard was Sir when they were in a scene, and still in charge most of the time when they went about their days, but he would never do something like this.

  Or maybe it was already part of the scene? Was this a chivalry thing or a Daddy thing?

  Somehow, Marco had already opened his door and he hadn’t even noticed.

  Marco leaned into the car, their bodies pressed close by the confined space. Greg breathed in his scent, acutely aware of each place that their bodies touched.

  Marco slid his hand across the seatbelt in his lap. It was an unexpected mix of tenderness and teasing, innocent but so close to where he wished Marco’s hand would go. Greg wasn’t quite sure what to think about it.

  The seatbelt clicked open and Marco followed its path back across his shoulder, his wrist grazing Greg’s nipple. He shivered.

  He waited, pliant, as Marco gently pulled him out of the car.

  If this were with Richard, he would be flirting right now. Showing off his assets and getting them both revved up. Or bringing out a performative streak of disobedience to wind them both up for his eventual punishment.

  This wasn’t either of those. This was quieter. Somber.

  But sweeter, too.

  Marco took his hand and guided him down the block to a clean, well-lit, but slightly run-down apartment building.

  Holding another man’s hand was strange. Walking into another apartment was bizarre.

  Like he was living in another dimension, where his life had taken another course.

  Only it wasn’t another life, it was just his life, moving forward in a new direction.

  Marco continued to hold his hand in the elevator. Not signing, just being there.

  In the apartment, Marco led him to the couch and then pressed his shoulder gently until he sat. He flicked on a soft lamp which made his skin glow but left the rest of the room in darkness.

  Without a word, Marco knelt and removed Greg’s shoes.

  It was quiet. Peaceful. Nothing at all like the stormy intensity of a scene with Richard. If this was part of the scene. He wasn’t sure.

  Marco sat down at the other end of the large couch, and for a moment Greg wished that he was closer. As though reading his mind, Marco leaned forward and hooked Greg’s calf upward, turning him so that they were facing each other and Greg’s feet were nestled in Marco’s lap.

  He was just so different from Richard. Marco was encouraging him to settle into his melancholy instead of trying to pull him out.

  It felt a little like Greg could be a different person, too.

  Marco began massaging his feet. It felt luxurious. Decadent. Greg leaned back and closed his eyes, giving in for a moment to the sensation.

  He got the feeling, though, that Marco was waiting for him to talk.

  He didn’t know what to say.

  Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Marco was still watching him, a small smile on his face as though he was enjoying the massage himself. The mellow glow of the lamp highlighted the bronzed shine of Marco’s cheeks, the faint touch of color on his eyelashes.

  He was beautiful.

  But also, he was strong. Not just physically, though Greg couldn’t help but notice his muscular arms. He was strong in himself. Confident. Aware of himself and where he could take control in their interactions.

  It reminded Greg a bit of what Marco had said earlier. That he was confident enough in his masculinity that he could play with being a bit feminine.

  This was similar, like he was confident enough in his dominance that he could be a bit tender. He could be quiet and kind while still taking control when Greg needed it.

  Greg watched Marco watching him, his eyes soft and thoughtful. It was like they were sharing some sort of secret language.

  Slowly, Greg felt himself dropping back into his body. The glass plate separating him from the world slowly disintegrated, and he blinked as though just waking up.

  Marco gave him an easy smile, then switched his attention to Greg’s other foot.

  I’m sorry, Greg started.

  Marco gave the softest shake of his head, as though denying the need for the apology, but not wanting to interrupt. He didn’t lift his hands from their work to reply.

  I sometimes… go away from myself.

  Marco gave only the faintest nod, acknowledging without judging.

  I miss Richard, he fingerspelled his name to accompany his name sign, realizing that he hadn’t before. And I wasn’t sure if I could do this.

  Marco gave him an encouraging smile, his fingers digging into pressure points that Greg hadn’t even realized were there. The massage was divine.

  I feel like I’m betraying him. But I also know that he wouldn’t want me to be alone. And… I want this. I miss being with someone.

  There was something about Marco’s quiet listening that made him want to share more. Like his words meant something.

  He felt even more vulnerable saying this next part, but Marco deserved to hear it. I don’t know you very well. But you make me feel safe. And… I think you’re very attractive. I don’t know if you’re still interested after the way I keep freaking out. But if I’m going to try something, I’d like to try it with you.

  Marco’s eyes shone with the praise. He was so much more open with his feelings than Richard had ever been.

  Maybe it was because Richard had been so mature and experienced while Greg had been emotional and impetuous and young. With the tables turned in their ages, perhaps Marco didn’t feel the same need to constrain his emotions.

  Or maybe Marco was just a different person.

  I’m honored, he signed one-handed, the other hand still on Greg’s foot. We don’t have to do anything tonight, though. We can just do this.

  With Richard, Greg had rarely asked for anything. Usually he communicated through either utter subservience or over-the-top bratty dramatics. When he made a request, it was flashy and flirty, with the full realization that Sir might turn him down.

  But that didn�
��t feel like him anymore. He felt too old and tired to be a brat. And Marco didn’t seem like he would appreciate it anyway.

  It felt foreign, but he realized that he needed to just… ask.

  I… We don’t have to do anything tonight. But if you would like to, I would, too.

  Marco’s smile warmed him.

  You told me your interests and limits in the car, but I think you were answering on autopilot, based on what you used to do.

  Greg started for a moment, then realized it was true. He’d explained what he did with Richard, what his limits had been in that relationship. He had no idea what they were outside of it.

  I… yes. I probably did, he admitted. I don’t know what my limits are anymore. He’d answered almost everything earlier with variations of “maybe” or “I’m not sure” after discussing the things he’d done before.

  I’m thinking more of your interests. You said that you enjoyed bondage.

  Yes, Greg agreed. But he didn’t really understand. Bondage was… well, it was like turning up the heat a notch. If they were already going to be doing something, binding his hands or feet added a little extra edge of intensity.

  Marco must have seen the puzzled look on his face.

  Have you tried Shibari before?

  Ah…. That made more sense. I’ve seen it. It looks beautiful. But I’ve never tried it. I don’t know if I’d like it or not.

  Would you like to try it?

  Greg hesitated. It seemed… risky. The pain and aggression and role playing that he was used to held its own sort of risk, especially with a new partner. Especially when it wasn’t Richard.

  But trying something new… What if he hated it? Or what if it was just… blah?

  What if he’d worked himself up for trying this new experience, his first one after three years of mourning, and it was just… blah?

  Again, Marco seemed to be able to read him, to be able to step in just when he was needed.

  What if we start with that and move on to something else if it’s not working for you?