Page 52 of Saint
“And that goes the same for you. If you can’t read your boyfriend when he’s not having a good time, how’s he going to trust you with his body? You fucked this up, Saint. You’re the experienced one; he was a virgin until he met you. You’ve dropped him into your life, and I’ve seen what you do to your subs, and it’s hardcore and you expected him to know and understand every situation. It’s overwhelming for him.”
“Jesus, you make it sound like I’ve forced him into it. He’s made for this; there hasn’t been any pressure from me. I was the dubious one, but he begged me for my dominance.” We’re both shouting now, pacing the room. “FUUUUUUCK!!!”
Knox’s hands land on my shoulders, and I almost punch him, my hands already in fists. “Hey! Calm down. You need to calm down. Look, Noah’s not going anywhere. He loves his job, and more importantly, he loves you. And that makes you bloody lucky.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that Noah has a lot of men interested. You must have seen how the guys in here watch him as he walks past. He’s totally oblivious of this—he’s only ever had eyes for you.” Knox sighs, obviously annoyed with me when I huff at him. “So, if you want to keep him, you’d better be the one on his knees begging for him. Now, get outta here, and let me go home.”
I look at the clock and see it’s nearly eleven o’clock. “Yeah, okay, and you’re right, about all of it.” I snort, “When did you get so fucking wise?”
“I’ve always been like this. You learn a lot watching all that goes on here.”
After a bro hug and back slap, we leave, and my brother locks up behind us. My drive back is less frantic, my emotions calmer and even though I want to go and beg at Noah’s door, I let us both have this night.
The sound of needles buzzing surprises me when I walk into the shop. I didn’t expect Noah to be in yet. He looks up as I walk past his station but doesn’t speak. He looks tired, his eyes reddened. From lack of sleep or tears. I hope it’s the former. I hate that I’ve made him cry. When he drops his gaze back down to the client, a young woman getting some work on her hip. It’s not anyone I recognise; he’s picked up his own customersquickly. Word of a new artist travels fast as conversations in pubs and places of work.
My first appointment is bang on time and greets me with a back slap and bear hug. “Ready to get this finished?”
“Too right. I can’t wait to show it off.” A giant eagle, it’s spread wings covering his shoulder blades, its talons extended at the base of his spine. We’ve had three four-hour sessions so far, but it won’t be that long today. He settles down in the chair as I set up the inks. I can hear Noah chatting to his client. Has she just asked him out on date? What the fuck!
“Um, thanks, I’m flattered. But I’m gay.” He trips over his words, making me smile. I know exactly how red his cheeks will be. I wasn’t expecting him to look over to me. I flick my eyes away from him not wanting him to know I’m snooping.
“Damn, all the hot guys are. The offer for a drink, just to hang out, is still open. I like you, you seem like a fun guy. I’ve a couple of gay friends, single ones. What do you say?”
“Actually, that sounds good. Thank you. We can swap numbers when we’re done here.” His voice is light, and I know he’s smiling. Isn’t that a sucker punch in my gut.
I make myself concentrate on my work, tuning him out. There’s no way I can fuck this up. But still, I hear him finish and them chatting as they go to the counter.
When he walks back to his station, he’s smiling.
And it’s not at me.
Going out for drinks with Zoey and her friends is great fun; everybody is friendly, and the two gay guys are cute. But not my type, which basically means they’re not Saint. Being around him at work is killing me, and I’m not sure how much longer I can go on without him, without his dominance. I feel like I’m drowning. The only thing that has stopped me from taking all my clothes off and kneeling for him is I still don’t think he understands why I left. Until then, I leave him alone.
I walk into the gym for my usual yoga class and wave at Knox as he talks to one of the women training with weights. He tips his chin, acknowledging me, but he doesn’t stop talking. Blake is already in the small yoga room. I wave and unroll my mat, sitting on it and trying to breathe slowly to clear my brain of all the confusion and pain. For the next hour, I manage to focus on my body and the movements I slide into.
Next is the self-defence class. I’ve moved into the new group now, and while I miss the one-to-one I had with Knox, I’m improving and can throw or disable any attacker with confidence. Kip pats me on the back as we pack up the mats.“You’re good at this, Noah. But tonight, it looked a lot like you were working out some issues. Is everything okay with you and Saint?”
“Um, yeah. We’re rushed off our feet at work, and I needed to destress tonight.” I give him a quick smile, walking away before he can ask me anything else. I’m grateful Saint hasn’t included his family in this whatever it is. A break-up, I suppose, but it is still very new, so relationship seems a bit of overkill. Especially since we never really dated, one with his brothers and the other the complete fuck up that has brought me to here and now.
“Hey, Noah.” Knox is striding up to me. “How was the class?”
“Good, I miss our classes too.” I pull my towel from around my neck. “They were fun and less sweaty.” I laugh, wiping my face.
“Have you got a minute?” He suddenly looks guilty, the smile fading as he gestures to his office.
I follow him, closing the door behind me. “You know what’s happening, don’t you?”
“Yeah, he came here the night it happened. He’s been here most nights, punishing himself on the treadmill or weights. He knows he fucked up, Noah. I think he’s questioning himself as a Dom.”
That makes me recoil, and I step back, already shaking my head. “No, he’s a wonderful Dom, Knox. It’s being a boyfriend, having a relationship, he doesn’t know how to do. It’s no surprise after the shitty upbringing he had. A father that liked to use his fists rather than talk. That’s what I think it comes down to. He hasn’t spoken to me, not outside any work-related topic. It’s killing me, but I’m not the one that needs to makethe first move. He needs to work out if he can manage an adult relationship outside of a club or a scene. I don’t want to lose him, but I can’t force him to love me without all the paraphernalia that goes with his desires and needs. I love him, but I can’t only have scenes. I want the handholding in the street. The fun shit, laughing in bed, cooking food together, talking about our pasts as well as what we want for the future. In my head, it’s not bound to a cross or spread on a spanking bench. I feel like I can’t ever be the one to initiate sex, that he’ll never relax enough to let me love him.” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m sorry. That was way more information than you needed.” I look at him, but he’s looking over my shoulder, and I know that Saint is standing there, and he’s heard it all. “Fuck,” I whisper and drop my head.
“Noah,” Saint’s voice is low, gravelly, like he’s afraid to say it too loud.
I can’t look at him because I know I’ll be on my knees at his feet. “I can’t, Saint. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything but moves around me, and without lifting my head, I shake it. He doesn’t touch me, instead, he kneels in front of me, his hands on his thighs. “Noah, look at me, please.”
