Page 113 of Sycopation
He’d known for most of his life that he was a little off center of normal. First he realized he had no gender preference when it came to bed partners. He’d found a word for that fairly fast—pansexual. The kink was easy enough to quantify, too. He loved dominating. Enjoyed the tears and moans of his partners. He was, as Nadia put it, on the mild side as a sadist, closer to a service top, since he so enjoyed giving his partners what they desired most. He had a passion for making his subs fly or go out of their heads or whatever they needed most from their kink.
But his aromanticism? That had been harder to find words to describe. He’d never particularly understood the trappings of romance, from the diamond engagement commercials to why people found giving flowers some holy romantic gesture. The whole concept of starry eyes and falling so in love that your whole being was consumed with the thoughts of another scared the shit out of him. People actually lost their whole sense of self tolove? That sounded like some kind ofnightmare, like love was a zombie that ate your brain. He’d seen it, too, people changing their whole selves to be with someone. Even politics and interests and religion. Atheists becoming born-again. Liberalsturning right wing simply because they’d fallen inlovewith someone.
Being completely uninterested in romance had made sex in high school and college a lesson in how he absolutely had to set expectationsearly. Because, man, did his bed partners expect him to fall head over heels for them. God, even that expressionsoundedpainful. Like, how was ramming your face into the ground a fun experience at all?
People seem to obsess over romantic love and the constant declarations and gifts. He’d been raked over coals when he hadn’t met whatever romantic standards his partners expected, even when he’d worked so damn hard not to lead anyone on, and set expectations. The worst was when his partners had claimed they would die if he didn’t return their love in the way they expected. Guilt wasn’t caring.
He did care for friends and family. Hell, he’d go out of his way to help them, care for them. Be there to support and cheer and listen. Provide a shoulder when needed.Thatwas the “love” he understood, his definition of whatfriendandfamilymeant. The sense the word made to him.
Everything else seemed like play-acting.
It had been such a fucking relief to discover that he wasn’t screwed in the head when he’d finally stumbled across the aro community. A breath of fresh air. He could finally be who he was: Zavier Demos, the guy who utterly enjoyed sex and kink and didn’t do romance.
He rubbed a hand over his face, unwrapped the antacids, and popped two in his mouth. Mint. Would go well with the toothpaste later. His stomach roiled.Fuck. Usually he could stomach questionable rest-stop meals.
The ceiling had water stains in a corner. Lovely. Zavier closed his eyes. He’d been in worse.
He couldn’t say he was in love with Ray, because hewasn’tin love with Ray. He’d never felt any of the things society said he should feel when someone fell in love. He hadn’t lost his sense of self. His heart didn’t flip over and over when he thought about Ray—at least not when Ray wasn’t in the middle of anaphylaxis. He’d contributed the latter to being terrified he was about to watch his best friend die.
He had been so very afraid and angry and desperate to do something—anything—to help. That was a moment Zavier never wanted to live through again. Ray collapsing into his arms. Watching Ray struggle to breathe. Not knowing if he’d see Ray again. That had hurt so fucking much.
The worst part had been watching Dom leave with Ray. Oh, he didn’t begrudge Dominic at all—Ray had been smart to give someone in the band medical power of attorney. Hell, they all should do that.
But it hurt that it hadn’t beenhim, that they hadn’t reached that point yet in their relationship.
And there—right there—was the twist that left Zavier breathless.
Whether he liked it or not, whether he acknowledged it or not, he wasin a relationshipwith Ray Van Zeller. They were kink partners. They thoroughly enjoyed each other’s bodies. They were bandmates. They werefriends. Best friends.
Zavier pried his eyes open and stared back up at the ceiling.
Maybe that was the difference. Ray had become a friend on top of everything else—or rather, they’d been friendsfirst. He didn’t become friends with the people he fucked, because that only led to expectations he couldn’t fulfill, and even then he still had issues, like with Dimitri.
And he’d never fucked with anyone he’d become friends with. He’d made some friendships at Juilliard, but they’d been based around music and nothing else, and he’d never bedded one ofthem. His strange friendship with Nadia had been all about kink and not at all about sex. Aside from the one time she’d tied him up and flogged him, they hadn’t even touched but for chaste hugs. Neither of them had ever been interested in the other sexually. Sure, Nadia liked to tease about his sexiness, but that was born from her sadism—it made Zavier uncomfortable.
Since Juilliard, he hadn’t made many friends. Dom and Mish were both good friends now since they were also aband. They’d lived on top of each other for almost three months. You didn’t go through that without forming bonds.
Ray waseverything, though. He fit into Zavier’s life so damn comfortably. Ray was his best friend and a man who understood him. A sweet submissive who listened, anddidn’t, in equal, intoxicating measure. Someone who enjoyed sex as much as Zavier did. Ray was also an exquisite musician in his own right. That Zavier could help Ray relax and lift the world off for a while—well. That was also a turn-on and a kink.
Service top, indeed. Nadia had pinned that on him early on.
That would explain why not being able to help Ray had been so fuckingdevastating. Coupled with everything else? Yeah, he had needed to run away, or at least run until he found the space to process it all.
Why that space had to be a shitty motel room, he didn’t know.
Note to self: next time, run off to a five-star place. Order a rare steak and a bottle of fine wine. Skip the antacids.
Next time, he’d take Ray with him.
Zavier shivered. He hoped the note had been enough to keep Ray calm. He owed Ray an explanation, but at least, for now, he had one other than “need to work shit out.”
One thing he did know—Ray was capable. He was strong. He’d befine. And Mish and Dom would watch out for him. Zavier would go back. He was going back. First thing tomorrow.He’d take a look at his GPS and figure out where the hell he was, and chart a course home to Ray.
Zavier rose, grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste, and headed into the bathroom. The best thing he could do now would be to sleep until Ray called him. He had no doubt his phone would ring eventually.
The ringingof his cell woke Zavier up. Phone said it was just past eleven-thirty and the screen blurred when he tried to blink sleep away. His vision sharpened when he realized the caller was Ray.Thank goodness. He would’ve headed back in the morning regardless, but he wanted to hear Ray’s voice.
He answered. “Hey.”
