Nora patted Michael’s face, and he sat up to let her stand. On her way out of the playroom she stopped by her chest of drawers where she kept all her little toys—cuffs and collars and dildos and talons and the like. She opened one small drawer and took something out and tossed it at him.

“Maybe marriage is red tape,” she said. “But there’s a lot to be said for red tape.”

She left him alone in the room holding a roll of bondage tape, the kind that sticks to itself but not the skin.

Bright red bondage tape.

He’d worn this tape before. Griffin used it on him more than a dozen times when they were on trips where they couldn’t easily bring lots of kink equipment. He remembered one particular weekend they spent at Griffin’s parents’ beach cottage in the Hamptons. Mr. and Mrs. Fiske would be sleeping in the very next room so Griffin had left the spreader bars and floggers at home. But with one little roll of bondage tape, Griffin had been able to blindfold Michael and tie his wrists to the bed frame. Those three nights at the beach house ranked among their most intense, their most intimate, as they could only speak to each other in whispers during sex. And the things Griffin had whispered in his ear—sexual fantasies, kinky fantasies, things Michael had never known Griffin dreamed about…Michael couldn’t remember those whispers without his blood burning and his cock stiffening. He could still feel Griffin’s fingers clamped on the back of his neck and the tape wrapped around his head covering his eyes as Griffin fucked the life out of him, and all with nothing but a thin wall between them and Griffin’s sleeping parents.

If marriage meant red tape, sign him up for a lifetime of it.

Michael called Griffin.

The phone rang only once before Griffin answered.

“Mick?”

“Hey, sir. You’ll never guess where I’m calling you from,” Michael said.

“Do I get a hint?” Griffin asked.

“I’m wearing bondage cuffs, and I’m covered with welts and red candle wax.”

“I know where you’re calling from—my dreams.”

Michael dropped his head to his chest. “You are so corny,” Michael said. “Sir.”

“Love makes a man say corny things,” Griffin said. “I’m guessing you’re with Nora? You better be if you’re covered in welts.”

“Her new playroom. It’s kind of amazing here.”

“She was starting to put it together when I was there last year. Look good?”

“It’s fancy,” Michael said. “Too fancy. Who is she playing with in here? I mean, other than me and Sheridan? She doesn’t see clients here, does she?”

“She’s got another place for her clients. She said her home playroom is mainly for her and Søren since he had to give up his dungeon at the club when they moved down there.”

“I thought it might be for…you know,” Michael said, lowering his voice on the off-chance Nora was standing outside the door. “Nico.”

“I don’t think he visits her there,” Griffin said. “She only goes to visit him, not the other way around.”

“Makes sense,” Michael said. Nora’s unconventional love life was one of their more enduring topics of conversation.

“Has she said anything about Le Boy Toy since you got there?” Griffin asked.

“Nothing.”

“Have you ever seen a pic of him?” Griffin asked.

“Just the one of him holding Céleste that Juliette showed me last year. He’s kind of…” Michael exhaled, loudly.

“Right?” Griffin said. “Kid burned my retinas he’s so hot. No wonder Nora keeps him on the DL. She’s probably afraid someone will steal him from her.”

“She is really private about him, which isn’t like her. I wonder why.”

“Probably out of respect for King as he’s King Junior, and that’s gotta be weird. It drives me nuts though,” Griffin said. “I want all the gossip about those two, and I can’t get any out of her other than they are a thing, everyone is cool with it, the end.”

“I’ll see if I can find anything out.”

“Report back to me immediately if you do,” Griffin said. “That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. If they’d been together, Michael would have saluted. It felt so stupid good to be having this conversation with Griffin. This was them, every day, every night, being goofy and corny together, gossiping about the wild lives of their friends, making dumb jokes. If this phone call was anything like what the rest of their lives would be like together, then he had no fear of the future.

“How’s L.A.?” Michael asked before he said something rash like Yes, I’ll marry you. He was under orders not to give Griffin an answer until Sunday night and Michael always obeyed orders.

“Hot and weird. How’s New Orleans?”

“Hot and weird. How are you?”

“Hot and weird,” Griffin said.

“So your usual self?”

“Ah,” Griffin said. “Getting there. I’m sorry I’ve been kinda out of it the past couple of weeks.”

“The guy who helped you get through rehab died,” Michael said. “You have the right to be out of it.”

“I’m getting okay again,” Griffin said. “I’ll be back to my old self when I get home Sunday.”

“Good,” Michael said. “Nora’s a great sadist but she doesn’t have your magic touch.”

“I have a magic touch?” Griffin asked. “What’s so magic about my touch?”

“It’s you doing the touching,” Michael said.

“Who’s corny now?” Griffin teased, but Michael could tell he was happy.

Michael heard voices in the background, laughter and a squeal. Good chance Griffin was at the club overseeing a play party.

“I should let you go,” Michael said. “I know you’re busy.”

“Never too busy for you. Did you call just to say hi?”

“I kind of wanted to ask you a question.”

“Ask all the questions you want, Mick. I asked you a big one.”

Michael took a deep breath. Here goes. “It’s just…I was kind of wondering, why did you ask me to marry you?”

“That’s the question?” Griffin sounded surprised but not insulted.

“I thought maybe the only reason you did it was because of what Jay said at the funeral. You know, about needing legal protection in case something happens.”

“It has nothing to do with that,” Griffin said. “I’ve got paperwork on us already.”

“Oh.”

“I only asked after Jay said that to us because you didn’t seem freaked out by the idea when he mentioned it. I’ve been thinking of it for a long time.”

“Like…how long?” Michael’s voice went up a few notes at the end of the question.

“Um…” Griffin paused as if counting. “Three years? Yeah, about three years.”

“Three years?”

“That’s…a little embarrassing to admit, but yeah, three years. How long have we been together?”

“Three years and about two months,” Michael said. “Not counting the three month break last year.”

“Okay, so three years is probably accurate then.”

“That’s insane,” Michael said.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. At least I didn’t ask three years ago. I realized it was my cock doing the talking then.”

“And now?”

“My cock is still talking,” Griffin said. “But other parts of me are, too. You really want to know why I asked you?”

“I’m kind of curious,” Michael said. An understatement. A massive understatement.

“For starters,” Griffin began, “because I love you. I love you, and I want to own you for the rest of my life. I’m happiest when you’re tied to the bed and can’t go anywhere. I bought you from your dad with a check for sixty-nine thousand dollars and if you’d cost a million times that I would have found a way to pay it even if I had to break into Fort Knox and Dad’s wallet. So that’s why I want to marry you. Metal chains, cuffs, collar, leash, harness and d-ring, rope and wedding ring, I don’t care. If there’s even the tiniest way of making you more mine, one more way of owning you, one more way of keeping you tied to me, I want to do it, and I want to do it yesterday. I know that sounds possessive, but that’s kind of our thing, right? But you’re smart, Mick. You know you own me as much or more than I own you. And that’s exactly how I want it.”

There followed a long pause.

“So does that answer your question?” Griffin finally said.

“Yeah,” Michael said, blinking tears out of his eyes. He’d melted like candle wax into the floor at Griffin’s declaration of love, lust, and ownership. “It does.”

“Good. Now hang up and text me pics of Nora’s wax job. You always look so hot covered in wax.”