Page 89 of Regal Feather
I hummed. I supposed he did. I’d never taken the time to ask him how he felt about it. They might have shared even less—they hadn’t even exchanged a word—but they had a silent understanding. Or I supposed I could just be deep in my head, seeing things where there were none.
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I think I feel bad about getting so caught up in it, but it’s…not easy to come down from that high, I guess? Which just makes me feel worse about it.”
Santos nodded. I only caught it from the corner of my eye because I was terrified of looking and seeing that he was disappointed, or that I was sending him back to square one with my own insecurities.
Truthfully, I didn’t think about Sir Ismael that much. Not as much as I thought I would. It hurt, but it was mostly a matter of my pride. He wasn’t the first Dom I’d ended things with. I knew the drill, the gap between having all that power handed to someone, and getting it back when it was barely wanted.
It fucked with someone’s head. Erika had actually done a workshop about it. Not in the regular sense of a workshop, but she’d invited a kink-aware therapist, and they had spoken a lot about the power exchange that came with the dynamicswe engaged with, and what happened when one ended, even if nothing traumatic had happened.
I’d attended, and I’d paid attention. I just hadn’t thought it would apply to me until it did, which was a huge mindfuck. It still kind of was.
The point was, I had coping mechanisms, and I knew how to take care of myself. Sure, this time, part of it had consisted of leaning on Santos and focusing on him more than I would any other person. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. I should probably ask someone.
The last thing I’d need was for Santos to find a good therapist, work through his stuff, and realize that I was the fucked up one. Which, I was.
Things weren’t as easy as they used to be when we were in school. It wasn’t even the sex or the love stuff. We didn’t have kinky sex then, obviously, but we fooled around. There were lots of talks—which, fine, were mostly initiated and carried on by me via texting at times I should’ve been sleeping or studying about my family history, which I’d refused to do for many years on principle alone. The point was, Santos saying it was us against the world when he came back here didn’t come out of nowhere. The two of us were the closest to fated as two people could be.
But back then, our baggage was only about the families we’d been born into. There were no insecurities from having jobs that were a farce, or from abusive figures, and whatever else was weighing in on Santos.
“I’ve got you,” Santos whispered. I froze, wondering if he’d said anything before. He didn’t look upset or exasperated, though. I’d take it as a win. “I’ll figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
It took a lot to let the words out without dying of own personal embarrassment, but they felt important.
twenty-eight
Ev
Weird question
Sergio is asking if you can pose for him?
Santos
wtf
Ev
Right, he’s a digital artist
And apparently someone commissioned him to draw a buff guy in a very specific pose, and he can’t find all the right angles anywhere, and there’s apparently a site that lets you pose all sort of bodies into every position, but he’s not managing to get it right
Or something
He might be high on sugar
Santos
Is it a nude thing?
Ev
Idk
Let me ask
He says underwear
