Page 83 of Regal Feather
Was I freaking him out? I’d be freaking myself out.
Ever just followed the… Had it been an order? Interpreted as such because he was in a submissive headspace more often than not, and I wasn’t always aware of how much he needed?
The question threatened to give me a migraine on top of the way my head hurt already. It would be tabled for later. When he wasn’t here, sliding between my legs until he could wrap himself around me like a koala. I hadn’t asked him to do that, but it didn’t surprise me that he had. It was the way we were.
The way I wanted us to be.
That knowledge didn’t stop all the conundrums of thoughts and questions that had kept me away from the bed. Away from any attempt at resting.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He cupped my face with both hands, watching me with a frown etched between his brows. “Are you okay, though?”
I shook my head.
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t handle his worry, even if it was called for.
“If… Let’s… In a hypothetical scenario… Let’s say you were away for like, a week, and you come back, and I’m running a fever, sick as fuck, but you’re…you’re very horny, right? Because you always are, and you haven’t had any release all week, and you were really looking forward to being with me.” I swallowed. It was exposing too much, but it had to be better than having all the questions, the made-up answers and scenarios, ricocheting around my head. I just needed something, anything, that wasn’t that. “What would you do?”
A muffled curse hadn’t been among the answers I’d come up with when there was nothing to keep me from spiraling.
I held my breath as I watched his eyes glitter, darting around my face in search of something. I couldn’t tell if he found it or not.
“I don’t know, take your temperature and ask if you’ve seen a doctor? And…find a place that delivered soup because chances are the fridge would be empty, and I’m not that good of a cook, anyway?” He fidgeted as he spoke. It was something else I tracked, but it was knowledge trapped by the fog that had settled over me. “Depending on the time, I could ask Eli? They make the best soup. Oh, and Kara’s roommates are ER doctors, so I guess I’d text her, too? I don’t know. I mean, I know what you’re trying to make me say, but I’m not sick. If you’re feeling like shit, I’m not going to… What the fuck?”
“Yeah.” I averted my gaze. He was growing agitated, and I got it, but I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take the confirmation I hadn’t willed myself to see as a possibility. “It… I don’t even remember half of it. I couldn’t even…get it up, you know? I don’t remember what she did. I think she tried to make me take Viagra? Maybe she did. I don’t know, I just…remember feeling guilty.”
His hand trembled, but he ran it through my hair regardless, tracing the side of my face as if he was drawing a mental map of it.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t feel guilty because of what she’d done. I felt guilty because I hadn’t been good enough for her. I’m struggling with that, I think.”
“With what?”
How could I put it into words? It barely made sense to me. I didn’t know how to make someone else understand. I’d barely managed with that therapist, and I didn’t even get into any details. Into anything that could force someone to take action.
“I need to be good enough, for…for someone.” Averting my gaze again, I ignored the shiver that went down my spine. I ignored the million voices in my head, the name-calling, the battering that I couldn’t take any more of. “Please.”
“You…” Ever blinked furiously a few times. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t see it. The hurt. The disappointment. The…whatever I was doing to him. Proving to him. “You’re my fucking hero. You’re…you’re perfect. I loveyou.”
“But I can’t…”
I couldn’t be everything he wanted. I couldn’t be what he needed. A Dom. Someone who manhandled him 24/7 and told him what a good girl he was and made all decisions.
I still couldn’t figure out how to order from a restaurant without copying what someone else asked for or having him do it for me.
It was…
“It doesn’t matter,” he cut through the spiraling. His voice sounded stronger now, firmer. He cupped my face again, that frown still on his. I couldn’t move a muscle. “Fuck, nothing matters if you’re not okay. Do you get that? You always go first. Always.”
“Fuck.” I couldn’t… There were no other words I could push out. “I’m… I swear I’m working on it, but I…I need you. I need you to not hate me or be disappointed in me for being a fuckup or…”
“I’m not.” He just leaned forward, slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted, but not enough that I’d think he was hesitant. I didn’t tell him that I’d never stop him. It probably would come across as not very healthy. Less so with the turn the conversation has taken. “I could never be that.”
Yeah, and I couldn’t believe those words, not right now, but I didn’t say it out loud, either.
“I’m going…” I needed to say it. I needed to get over the dryness in my throat, the burning need to shed tears I hadn’t shed in way too long. I just needed to say it, and then it would be okay. “Carlos’s friend sent me the number of, uh, a therapist? I texted her to ask for an appointment. I don’t know how long it will be, though.”
