“Oh, I can absolutely think of something, but I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”
“I don’t think I like this plan.”
“That is the point. But back to this maintenance spanking… Is it something you want to start your day with?”
“I think so. It would maybe center my mind before I start my day, but I don’t want to bother you.”
I contemplated Nico with a new understanding. For all of his bravado, sass, and fabulosity, he worried about taking up too much space in someone else’s life. He claimed his own space, but he worked hard to never impose on anyone else’s. What he didn’t understand was that I wanted him to impose his expectations on me and demand the attention he deserved. Nico didn’t believe he had the right to take up space in someone’s life.
There was no telling where that came from. As far as I could tell, he came from a loving family. I got frustrated with his brothers, but he loved them too. Maybe it was just one of those flukes he got into his head at some point, and then the intrusive thought took over. It didn’t really matter, but I knew getting him to understand how much space I wanted him to take up in my life—which was as much as he wanted—wouldn’t be the easiest thing.
“Every morning before you go to work, I want you to come find me. If I’m still asleep, wake me up. When you walk into my bedroom, my office, or my kitchen, I want you to know that you have the absolute right to be there. Tell me you are there for your spanking. Demand my attention. You get to take up space in my life.”
“Babbo, is that really necessary?”
“Yes, it’s absolutely necessary.”
“What about rules,” Nico asked. Hesitation mixed with bravado in his voice.
“For now, I’d like you to go to bed at a decent hour and eat proper food. You can’t live on takeout. You need real food.”
“But I can’t cook,” Nico whined.
“Then come eat with me because you have a standing invitation.” Nico gave me an abrupt nod, but I saw the relief in his eyes. “And there’s one more thing I want you to do this week.” Nico looked at me expectedly with raised eyebrows. “I want you to research the various degree options a project manager has to get that title.”
“That’s not fair. I don’t want to do that.”
“What a fantastic segue to safewords.” Nico’s only response was to groan and throw himself back on the couch. I ignored his eye roll when he did it. “That’s a lot of drama for a safeword. We need them.”
“We’ve done just fine without them. If I don’t like something, I’ll just say stop.”
“There’s a difference betweenstop except keep goingversusget the fuck away from me.”
“You’ve figured it out so far.”
“Going from playing around for a scene or two in a hotel room when we know it can’t go too far and playing regularly changes things. And for the record, this isn’t a discussion. I’m telling you we’ll have a safeword, so unless you plan to use them today and put a halt to this whole thing, I suggest you stop arguing about it.”
“Ugh, fine. Stoplights?”
“Red stops everything, yellow means slow done, and green is good.”
“Fine,” Nico agreed grudgingly.
“Good boy. Thank you for listening and not arguing.”
Nico rolled his eyes, but I ignored this sass. He had acquiesced to me, and I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to brat his way out of it.
“One more rule—lay off the sass.”
“Gah! Babbo, wanna play the dance game?” I appreciated Nico’s effort to change the subject even though he suddenly seemed shy. It was fucking adorable. I knew he was trying to distract me, but I was happy to move to something else instead of squabbling with him on the absurd point that he didn’t need a safeword.
“I won’t make promises to do it well. It’s been approximately never that I’ve danced.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think you understand just how bad of a dancer I am. I’m amazingly uncoordinated. It’s a wonder I can even walk straight.”
“Maybe you need to walk a little gay.” Nico collapsed and laughed at his own joke, and it wasn’t polite laughter either. It was a belly laugh, complete with snorting.