Page 17 of Designation: Null

Maybe his chest doesn’t hurt as much? He puts the hormone wash on his torso and strokes his chest, paying close attention to his nipples because they feel so good. They’re really sensitive and swollen. There’s a blush all over his skin.

He’s getting firm in places, stubborn pockets of tissue that are just hard and swollen and that he should keep soft, but he doesn’t like touching himself. He has fast healing abilities; the hardness and lumps of swollen tissue resolve eventually without his staying on top of it.

Well, he assumes it resolves on its own. Honestly, he doesn’t touch himself enough to know.

Logan keeps his hands on his chest, protectively cupping the area, hoping the wash is enough, the douche is enough, and maybe he won’t have to think about doing more and what all that might entail.

He watches the stall door, having this fear that someone will break through the flimsy lock and see him with his hands on himself.

Robert is making Logan’s struggle with his designation worse. He was clinging on before, able to convince himself that he genuinely was null, the luckiest of them all because he was outside of all of this biological bullshit, but he isn’t.

Logan should start avoiding Robert, not agree to go to his parents’ house for dinner. He needs to do that.

But. The idea of avoiding Robert is upsetting to even think about.

His nose is stuffed up and his vision is blurred. Oh god. Is he crying at the idea of not seeing Robert?

This is bad. He is fucked. He’s probably deep in the black. Not that he has a test kit on him to check his hormone levels, but he’s pretty damn sure that if he could test, the corresponding color would be black as death.

Pale yellow is optimally balanced. Green is pretty normal and blue is fine, too. Red is bad, brown is worse, and black is crash territory. He can go back, can’t he? If he gets himself together and behaves, won’t he get back into a null range?

He covers himself in more wash and is certain his chest doesn’t ache quite as badly. Honestly. The first step is convincing himself.

The first self-tie always the hardest: his submission is manageable.

Who is he kidding? If he leaves this stall, he is going to ping every Dominant’s radar and his life will be over. He’ll be cornered and fucked and everyone will know he isn’t null but submissive.

He’s got to get himself sorted out. Just a little. Enough to make eye contact and stand tall. He just has to make it out of the building.

Logan tries to find satisfaction in his neck glands, using hormone wash to rub over them, fingers slick and touch firm. He imagines it’s Robert touching him. God, what would Robert be like?

“Poor baby,” he’d murmur. Because Logan is certain he’d be kind butfirm. “You’re in quite a state. Let’s get you sorted out,” Robert would say, voice low and rough with arousal, and that would be that. He’d justhaveto obey. Surrender the problem to Robert and he would fix it.

There’s a faint spasm, like a knot easing in his neck, just a small tremor, and his cock drips onto the tile. Two drops of release.

Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it.

His hands go down his body before he can think too much about it. For a wild moment he thinks about using lube and working his prostate, opening himself up and just rubbing away at it like submissives do in the videos he’s seen.

If only Robert were here to help him. Make him. Because of course he isn’t going to touch himself like that unless someone makes him.

He presses the glands on the inside of his thighs, then sits back on the bench, legs open, imagining it’s Robert’s fingers and how gentle he might be with Logan. What if… what if Robertlikedtaking care of Logan? What if he demanded Logan relax and submit? What if Logan cried and protested but clung to his Dominant because Robert could always make everything better?

Stupid thought. He’s just embarrassing himself with these types of fantasies. Pathetic. He spanks his balls, hoping the sound of water covers the noise, but can’t quite stop the groan that comes out. His chest hurts, a white-hot streak of agony radiating through him. He swallows hard, forcing himself to be quiet as he smacks his genitals again and again, the precipice just out of reach.

Finally there’s a knifelike stabbing sensation between his thighs and he releases, spilling release into his waiting hand. He slumps against the wall, shaking.

He’d released so easily for Robert. He hadn’t even wanted to, and he’d made a mess of himself.

Which is exactly why so many submissives seek out Dominants. Pleasure and release, instead of pain and misery.

But this is his life, his choice. And didn’t he just release without a Dominant?

He’s horribly relieved it happened. The truth is that he’s never sure exactly how much pain it’s going to take for his body to behave.

“Keep it down in there, cowboy,” Hank says.

Logan freezes, terrified. Does Hank know it’s him? Is he going to break the flimsy lock and come in?

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