Chapter 6

There was something wrong with Connor. Wesley lay in bed watching his lover sleep, brow furrowed in thought. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something was definitely off. Connor twitched and sighed, rolling onto his other side. Wesley fought the need to shake him awake and demand to know what was going on. To stop himself from reaching over, he settled on his back and clasped his hands behind his neck.

Their earlier encounter returned to haunt him. He saw Connor walking through the door, felt the weight of his gaze, and remembered nothing amiss. Then they’d moved into the bedroom. That’s where it had gone wrong. Again, he saw Connor stepping out of the bathroom, a set expression on his face. From then on, he’d acted differently—colder. So, what had happened in those minutes he’d spent alone? What could have triggered that change?

The rest of the scene had been intense. Perhaps too much so. There hadn’t been anything life threatening, nothing to make him feel unsafe. In fact, it had been hot. But in hindsight, there’d been a certain edge to Connor that hadn’t been there before.

Unable to sleep, Wesley turned everything over and over in his head. There hadn’t been any time to talk before the scene, and when it was done, Connor had fallen fast asleep. Now, sitting in silence and darkness, Wesley couldn’t help but think it was all connected to the scenes with Matthew at The Dungeon. Perhaps they’d affected Connor more than he wanted to admit.

Biting the inside of his lip, Wesley went back to that first time they’d gone out. It had been right after they’d met, and Connor had told him about Alin, his ex. Of how he died. Could his mood be related to Alin somehow?

Wesley left the bed and went into the kitchen. Standing before the open door of the fridge, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and drained it in one go. Refilling it, he took it with him as he went to stand at the window, while his mind wandered.

***

Connor heard Wesley leave the bed, and he finally allowed himself to relax. After the scene, he’d tended to Wesley, but when it became clear his partner was going to ask him questions he couldn’t answer, he’d pretended to sleep. He’d felt Wesley’s eyes on him for a long time after that, and for a while, he’d feared he was going to wake Connor up anyway. But Wesley hadn’t.

Now, he could hear him pacing the kitchen, and Connor longed to join him. But what if Wesley asked him what was wrong? What would Connor tell him? It wasn’t that he wanted to hide the answers from Wesley. He just didn’t know them for certain himself.

Looking back, he couldn’t recognize himself. He had wanted to hurt both Matthew and Wesley. It had gone beyond a game, and the limits of said game. It was as if he’d had limitless power over them, which scared the shit out of him.

This wasn’t what being a Dominant meant. He knew that all too well. Yet, when the time had come, common sense had out through the window. But at least he hadn’t hurt either of them.

God damn it! What was wrong with him? He’d had years—close to two decades—of practice. He shouldn’t go off the rocker like that. In his monitor days, when he’d supervised kink parties, he would have red-balled any Doms who acted as stupidly as he had.

***

The next day, Wesley knocked on his boss’s door. Pushing it open without waiting to be invited in, he stuck his head inside.

“Hey. You got a second?”

Lucas glanced up, and motioned him in, smiling. “Sure. Come on in.”

Wesley stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Sitting on the edge of one of the comfortable chairs facing Lucas’s desk, he rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his fingers.

“What can I do for you?”

Sensing the concern in Lucas’s tone, Wesley looked up at his friend and boss. “What do you know about Alin?”

Lucas frowned. “Alin?”

“Connor’s ex.”

“Oh.” Wariness replaced the confusion on Lucas’s face. “What about him?”

Taking pity on Lucas’s discomfort, Wesley shrugged. “Don’t worry. I already know about him.”

Relief flashed across Lucas’s face.

“That’s not what I came here to talk to you about. Or, not exactly, anyway.”

“What’s going on, Wesley?”

“You, we, have a new submissive coming to the club: Matthew.”

Lucas nodded.

“He did a scene with Connor.”

Another nod. “Was there something wrong? And why isn’t Connor here talking to me about it? It is his sub.”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Lucas’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I’m listening.”

“I think it may be too intense for him.”

“He didn’t say anything to me.”

“To me either.” Wesley rushed through the explanation, trying to convey his concern without giving too much away. “After the scene with Matthew, he came home pretty shaken up.”

Lucas regarded him in silence, his brow slightly furrowed. “You know the rules, Wesley. I cannot switch Matthew to another Dom without being asked directly by either the sub or the Dom, and not without a solid reason.”

Wesley’s shoulders hunched. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting it, but he’d had to try.

As if sensing his mood, Lucas leaned in, resting his elbows on the desktop. “I know about what Alin put Connor through. You may not be aware, but I told Connor several times before Alin’s death that Alin wasn’t good for him. I pushed him to break up with Alin, but he wouldn’t do it. He’s too honorable.”

The jealousy eating away at Wesley was unwelcome, but expected.

“Wesley, I promise I’ll assign Matthew to someone else as soon as one of them comes to ask me themselves. Is that enough for you?”

No, it wasn’t, but there wasn’t anything he could say to sway Lucas, and applying any further pressure could well backfire. Knowing he had lost, Wesley nodded, and left.

He went back to his room and prepared everything for the day ahead, but he couldn’t put Connor out of his mind. The hours passed, session after session, and when Connor didn’t call during the day, as was their habit, Wesley’s concern grew.

***

“Hey, honey. I’m home.”

Wesley closed the front door behind him and dropped the keys onto the little side table. Silence was his only answer. He searched the place, moving from one room to the next. There was no sign of Connor. He wracked his brain, trying to remember his lover’s schedule, and he was fairly certain that they were supposed to finish at around the same time. They hadn’t met at work, despite working in the same venue, and Connor still hadn’t called.

He checked his phone for the hundredth time, before giving in and dialing Connor’s number. It went to voicemail.

“Hey, Connor. I’m just checking in. Call me back when you get the chance.”

Cutting off the call, Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. Not sure what to do, he went to take a shower, hoping the hot water would wash away his concerns. When that didn’t work, he started pacing the living room. The hour struck, and then another. Wesley kept glancing at his phone, willing it to ring. When time passed with no sign from Connor, he finally gave up and went to bed, his sleep fitful.

When he woke the next morning, he found Connor resting by his side. Wesley took his time studying his lover’s sleeping form. Connor looked pale, and even in sleep, his forehead was creased with worry. The same tension strained the corner of his mouth.

Silently, Wesley climbed out of bed and closed the bedroom door behind him as he went in search of coffee, leaving Connor to his clearly much-needed rest. He started the brew and went through his schedule for the day, but his mind kept wandering back to his lover. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he jumped when two strong arms encircled him.

“Good morning, love.” Connor’s breath tickled the back of Wesley’s neck when he spoke, the feeling almost too intense for Wesley’s over-tense self.

“Good morning.” Wesley couldn’t bring himself to turn in the embrace, too afraid of what he might find on Connor’s face. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

If he hadn’t been looking for it, Wesley would have missed the slight twitch Connor gave in response to Wesley’s statement.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wanted to clear my head. I took a walk, stopped for a beer.”

The words stung. Why hadn’t he asked Wesley to join him?

“I called you last night. I was worried.”

Connor pulled away, hesitating. “I know, I’m sorry.” He stepped back, and Wesley turned to him. Connor’s gaze dropped to the floor, before he looked back up and met Wesley’s eyes. “I should have called.”

“You should have, yeah.” Wesley fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but at Connor’s wince, he knew he had failed.

“Hey.” Connor reached for him and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. Wesley went along stiffly. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t think.” He kissed Wesley’s forehead, before using the crook of his forefinger to lift Wesley’s chin and look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean for you to worry.”

“You were gone almost the entire night.”

“I was.”

At least he wasn’t trying to deny it, and his gaze was as open and honest as Wesley had ever seen it.

“I really needed the time to think. I was alone, and it was just beer. Okay, two beers. I hate that I made you worry. I promise not to do it again. I love you.”

There was no trace of doubt in Connor’s voice. Wesley nodded, but there was a nagging feeling that told him he was still missing part of the puzzle.

***

Connor saw Wesley’s distress, and he hated himself for causing it. He longed to comfort Wesley and brush his worries away. But he couldn’t. His head was a mess, and he could barely survive the days at work without causing harm to others, or to himself.

What could he tell Wesley? That he was a fuck-up? That he’d gone from being a confident, experienced Dominant to a beginner who could barely hold everything together during a scene?

He went through the motions of the day, more tired than when he’d gone to bed the night before. He dreaded going back to work. His workday was supposed to be short—just Matthew and one other client—but to him, it felt like ages.

His body felt sore, his mind and muscles tired, his stomach unsettled. Perhaps he should have spoken with Lucas. Or even called in sick. But he dreaded the questions even more than going to work, which left him no alternative.

***

During the days that followed, Wesley’s concern increased as Connor grew colder. It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, or he didn’t seem to be, but he got quieter. He spent more and more time at work or in town, walking home, and when he was there, he avoided Wesley.

They didn’t go to bed at the same time, and the one time they’d been intimate, Wesley had felt Connor’s disconnection throughout the act.

And with each passing minute, Wesley sank deeper into despair. Was it work-related? Why was Connor not talking to him? Wesley craved to be of help to him, for them to be close again. Yet, when he looked at Connor’s tensed shoulders and pale cheeks, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.