Page 6 of Weston & Cyrus
“I’m not sure how to prove I’m attracted to you without it getting inappropriate.” Or just weird. “Yeah, we’re at a BDSM club but there isn’t a good way to handle that.”
My confusion finally got a smile out of him and he looked halfway normal again. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you.” I was not whipping my dick out in the lounge to try to prove anything. Besides, it wouldn’t make me hard no matter how sexy Weston was. “So have you accepted that I find you attractive? Can we move on to a different point or do we need to stay on that one for the moment?”
Weston’s ridiculously loud sigh had me rolling my eyes. “I like that point. I’m not sure I want to move to the next one.”
He was such a drama queen.
“How about we keep the next one easy and say we want to keep our friendship as an important part of our life and no matter what, we’re not going to let it get fucked up?” His slow nod said we were at least making progress.
“What…what if it gets fucked up, though?” He was a worrier, so I’d already thought of that one.
“Therapy.” I wasn’t a talk-it-out person for a lot of reasons but I’d do it for Weston. “There are several therapists connected to the club who’d understand the problem.”
No matter what it actually turned out to be.
“You…you thought about that already.” After a second, he frowned and looked slightly less generally upset. “You don’t do therapy.”
“No, but you do.” And I was pretty sure part of that had been working through whatever kink thing he didn’t want to talk about.
No matter how vague he was and how dismissive he got about what he was looking for in a Dom, he was not telling me thewhole truth. He just hadn’t dated or done scenes with enough Doms at the club for me to figure out what he needed.
I was hoping he knew what he was looking for, but I was prepared for confusion and working our way through lists if it came down to it.
“That’s…” He paused, brain finally seeming to catch up with the conversation. “That’s fucked up. You have to do therapy for yourself, not for anyone else.”
“I’m not looking to understand me. We’d be going to fix some fuckup that we couldn’t handle on our own.” I wasn’t worried about the friendship side but I was worried about our communication skills.
Or lack thereof.
He really didn’t like my answer based on the grumbling he was letting out and the way he scrubbed his face. “I’ve done a really good job of keeping my kinks to myself and not making you uncomfortable, and now you’re asking me to deliberately make you uncomfortable.”
Interesting.
Okay.
“What kind of kink would make me uncomfortable?” Nothing was coming to mind, and he was generally enough of a germaphobe I didn’t think it was anything too interesting.
“I—” He cut himself off as fast as he’d started, and his hands came down so he could glare at me. “I almost answered you. What the fuck.”
It probably wasn’t the time but I said it anyway.
“You’re sexy when you’re going nuts.” I didn’t like it when he was genuinely upset, but fucking with him was fun. “I thought you should probably know that so you didn’t have to guess.”
How had he missed how attractive I thought he was?
I literally gave him compliments all the time.
We’d come back to that once he wasn’t doing a fabulous goldfish impression, though.
It took us several long moments, but eventually he let out a long breath and leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “For fuck’s sake.”
Was that moving us in a better direction?
Being patient again had him taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Well, at least he’s willing to talk to a therapist if I make him uncomfortable.”
He definitely wasn’t talking to me, so I got to practice being patient again.
