Page 91 of Ezekiel
“Can you please listen?” she asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Sorry, yes,” I managed. What was wrong with me?
“I don’t know how to do this thing,” she reiterated. “This whole ‘communication when it comes to the whole relationship’ thing. Well, not the relationship, the other part of it. You know?”
She had completely lost me. I shook my head, deciding that my words were only fucking things up in this barely two minute conversation. Better to keep quiet until I could figure out what she was on about.
“Dynamic! That’s the word!” she exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “I don’t know how to talk to you in our dynamic. Or about our dynamic. But we need to talk.”
Oh. Now it made sense. She wanted to end the dynamic. Or she wanted to talk about how I ruined everything by pushing her into a trauma-response provoked panic attack that unearthed an earth-shattering flashback of massive proportions. Great. Perfect conversation for a nice light dinner.
“So how do I do it?” she asked, pausing her pacing as she stood before me.
“Do what exactly?” I asked, still a little unsure of what she was asking.
“How do I talk to you about our dynamic without messing it all up?” she asked, sitting back down in the chair beside me. Her eyes were so full of hope. Hope that I would be able to help her.
“You just… talk,” I muttered dumbly.
“I just talk?” she asked, her eyebrow lifted as though she didn’t believe me.
“That’s about the long and short of it,” I nodded. The need to don my Dominant persona and take charge of this conversation, especially a conversation about our dynamic, was nearly impossible to ignore. But I had to. After what had happened, I couldn’t do it. Not now.
“Yeah, just talk. Whatever you need to say, or ask, or whatever, I’m ready to listen,” I answered honestly. Her eyes searched mine, for what, I had no idea.
“See, this is the problem I’m having. You’re being so, well… so likethat,when I want you to be like you,” she explained. I looked at her in silence, hoping that if I stared long enough, the words would somehow make sense.
“I’m sorry, I’m lost,” I admitted with a humorless chuckle.
“I miss it,” she finally rushed out with a heavy sigh.
“Miss what?” I asked, running a hand through my hair. My anxiety was peaking, my hands wanting to fidget so badly it was making me feel twice as confused.
“I miss us. The us we were before. I miss it all, Zeke. And I don’t know exactly how to talk to you about that. But the girls said I should talk to you about it. Well, they told me Ihadto talk to you about it. That it’s part of the honest and open communication that is imperative to a solid dynamic, but it’s so confusing and hard to find words and —” she rambled.
“Wait, you want to go back to our dynamic?” I asked, truly and completely dumbfounded. That wasnotwhere I thought this conversation was going.
“Yes. I want to go back to how things were. I want you to be your normal, aggravating, Dominant self with me again,” she explained further.
“I don’t understand. I’ve been trying to show you care and l—” I cut off, biting the word back as I physically pressed my teeth into the tip of my tongue. Now was most definitelynotthe time to make that revelation.
“And I love that. You have shown me such gentleness and kindness and care, Zeke. But I’m not glass,” she said with a smile, her eyes searching mine, willing me to understand. “I may be dealing with trauma and going through some serious emotional shit, but I am not fragile. If there is anything you’ve taught me, it’s that I am so incredibly strong. And I need you to see me for the real me who is standing before you right now.”
“You’re technically sitting,” I blurted out. If I could punch myself in the face, I would have at that moment. Where was my filter? Christ almighty.
“Seriously, Zeke?” she deadpanned. I shrugged, deciding it would be better to stay quiet for the moment. “I’m trying to communicate with you. To really be open and honest, like Ruth and Delilah said. Like even you told me to. Kink relies on a level of honesty that most people don’t understand. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Yes, of course,” I agreed with her.
“Then hear me now. I know I am the submissive, and I want to talk to you as respectfully as possible. But I think that maybe bluntness might be better than the politeness that Ruth or even Delilah could muster. I need your hands on me again. I need you to tie me down, to steal my senses, to make me scream for you again.” Her words pleaded with me, begged me for the things she desired and, Jesus’ saggy nut-sack, did I respond. My cock ached, throbbing against my zipper painfully.
But for as ready and willing as my cock may have been, it didn’t change the issue at hand.
“Angel, I hear you,” I began, taking her hands in mine. “I really do hear you, but it’s not that simple. I can’t just go back to tying you up and doing all of those things to you, knowing what I know now. It can’t work that way. I won’t let it work that way.” I kept my tone light, showing her I was being earnest and sincere. Her wellbeing mattered to me far more than the kink I had come to love. Hell, I had come to need it in my life. But right now, her safety, her comfort and care came first.
“You’re not hearing me,” she protested. “I need you to still be you. I still need to be me.”
“I am being real. And you are being you. You didn’t even know kink until a few weeks ago.” I resisted her words.
