Page 24 of Filtration Play
“All right, let’s get going.” Before Fin lost the nerve to take him up in the first place. Except unless they headed over to Whipped and Meg happened to have a room in the dungeon open, there wasn’t the private space they needed right now to handle a sub who’d potentially had a sub drop and an effect on their blood sugar from the adrenaline crash.
It was their apartment or bust.
“You good, or you want help?” they asked as Ollie rose from the passenger’s side.
“I’m good,” he said. “Shaky, but as long as there’s a railing, I can manage.”
“Well, my apartment building doesn’t have much, but we do have that.” They popped open their phone and shot a quick online order for pizza pickup from downstairs. They were craving the carbs after all they’d gotten up to at the abandoned building. “Wait, we haven’t gotten into pizza toppings, have we?”
“Nah, just the other type of topping,” Ollie said. His voice sounded tired, but the fact that he still sent snark their way brought relief rippling through them.
“Right. Well, I got a plain and a pepperoni for the classics. If you wanted other weird shit, I might have a questionable can of mushrooms you could put on it.”
“Pepperoni works for me, though pepperoni and pineapple slaps.”
“I’m about to slap you for that blasphemy,” Fin teased.
Ollie snorted as he followed them up the outside stairs leading to their entrance. If they cast a glance back every few seconds to make sure he was stable, that was their business.
They unlocked their door and pushed it open. Ollie loomed behind them on the stairwell, and they swallowed hard. The scent of orange filtered their way from the plug-in they’d bought to clear out some of the musty smell that had existed ever since they moved in years back. They learned to work around it, since it wasn’t like they could afford a swanky new apartment. Their place was a mess, but it was cozy. If Ollie judged them for a bit of clutter, he could go fuck himself.
“Nice place,” he said. “Can I go sit on the couch over there?”
Their hackles relaxed. He was out of it and in need of attention, not hurling rocks at them over cleanliness or lack thereof. They’d been in this building for a long, long while. The first place they’d rented after they moved out of home, which had been the second they hit eighteen, even though they were still in school.
“Yeah.” They closed the door. “Take a seat. Want water? Tea? Coffee? Seltzer? Soda?”
“Uh, soda works—could use the extra sugar boost.” Ollie sank into their worn corduroy couch. Their furniture was all well used but functional, and they’d only replace a piece if it was falling apart. Aesthetics could suck it.
They headed right to their cupboard and pulled down a cup. With the amount of dust at the warehouse, they needed fucking something to clear their throat. Their heart thumped hard at the sight of Olliechilling on their couch. As if having people in their space was a thing they did on the regular, like Meg and Tristan and other less dysfunctional people. They snagged their water and a can of Fanta for Ollie.
They placed his Fanta on the coffee table in front of him and plunked onto the couch with their own. The first sip was far too needed, especially because it offered a moment to pause their whirring mind.
“How are you feeling now?” they asked, snapping into the comfort of protocol.
Ollie let out a shaky breath. “Definitely need to get my blood sugar up.” He tapped the diabetic sensor on his arm to point it out. “It’s a bit wonky right now, and I’m still feeling a bit…foggy, I guess?”
Guilt thudded through Fin. They’d been stupid to even try light play with him in a setting like that. Too many unpredictable factors.
“None of that,” he said.
“What?” they asked, their brows drawing together.
“This isn’t anyone’s fault. Par for the course with dealing with diabetes. Sometimes new stimuli cause things to spike or drop, and I’ve just got to figure out how to handle those situations on the fly.”
Even though his words didn’t wash away the sense of protectiveness that swarmed them, the reassurance did calm Fin’s mind a little. “I’ll trust you on that, then. As for the fog, my guess is some light sub drop was spurred by the blood sugar taking a nose-dive. Whether it was the restraints, the humiliation, the situation, or whatever, you went into subspace pretty easily.”
“Care to clarify?” He tilted the can back and drank, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Fuck, he was far too sexy.
“It’s an emotional and physical low that can sometimes follow a scene. All the adrenaline heightened, and then—bam. You’re going to want to be careful with play partners and where you scene, givenyour diabetes.” Fin clearly hadn’t with the warehouse, but after seeing his reaction, Fin had a better idea of how to handle him. Which they shouldn’t be thinking on, because he was just a cutie who’d agreed to shoot with them and happened to be fun to play with.
Far too fun.
Ugh.
“Guess you better scene with me a few more times,” he said, the flirt heavy in his tone. “For educational purposes.”
Fin pointed a warning finger at him. “Nuh-uh. Don’t go giving me those baby sub puppy eyes. Don’t know what you heard from all those fuckers at Whipped, but I’m not the gentle education sort. That’s more Parker’s and Meg’s bag.”
