Page 59 of Sin Deep
“I knew you’d want a cup, lover.” Hell, he knew he’d need more than one.
“Or three!” Winter called from the kitchen and reappeared a moment later. “You make good coffee. How did you sleep?”
“Like a well-loved man. You?”
“Happily.” Winter waved for him to scoot, sat, and pulled him back down onto his lap. One arm went around his waist to tuck him close. “And like I don’t want to be very far from you today.”
“Mmm… I approve.” He nuzzled Winter’s stubbly jaw, feeling warm and close, like he belonged right here.
Winter sipped his coffee and held him, just quietly, like there was nothing else he’d rather be doing.
He let himself relax fully, and he figured there was nothing better than this—being here, like all the way here with his lover. “Thank you.”
Winter looked at him curiously. “For what, petit? I just woke up.”
“For this, for last night, for you, I guess. For everything.”
“I should say the same. And for this amazing birthday weekend. I haven’t ever been celebrated like this. You’ve made it special. You’re special.” Winter tilted his head. “How much of last night are you thanking me for? Because the club visit must have been quite something for you.”
“Oh, wow. I have so many questions. It was like three different times—that’s common for bars, I know, but wow. The party, the time we were just there, and it was slow, and then last night.”
“It’s wonderful isn’t it? Something for everyone. You can ask questions any time. As they come to you. It’s fine.”
“Sam said I should ask you anything, even if it was silly.” He rested his cheek on Winter. “So I’m going to start with one I’m sure is silly. That one guy, the one on the floor there at the table? Was he high?”
“High? Raine?” Winter looked confused. “Definitely not. Callum, like every Dom I know, only plays sober.”
“Oh.” See? Stupid question. Still, Sam said to ask, so he pushed on. “I mean, his…person said he was flying, is all.”
“Oh! Oh, no, Callum said he was floating. Floating is…when your endorphins have kicked in heavily, like after a scene. Or an orgasm. Only because the scene or session is usually a lot longer than an orgasm, the effects last much longer too.”
“I understand post-orgasm goofies, totally.” He chuckled softly. He was sort of into the ramp up to orgasm himself, but that was just him. “I’m not sure I’d want to have to leave the house during them.”
“It’s difficult to really explain until you feel it yourself, but you don’t think. You don’t really care what others do either. You’re focused on your Master. Laser focused.”
“I don’t understand, but I’m glad he wasn’t stoned. I don’t love the idea of him being out and about and not able to…function.”
“Callum had a close eye on him and was taking very good care of him, I promise. Just like I would always take very good care of you.”
He lifted his chin and kissed Winter’s jaw. “Thank you. I’m… Sam said everyone was different. Like for everything. So we make our own rules.”
“Indeed. We see what works and doesn’t work for us. I can tell you that a lot of what you saw in the back rooms holds little appeal for me except perhaps to watch.”
“Yeah, I reckoned there would have been a hint of whips and chains lurking around, but I hadn’t seen them.” Not that he’d been snooping, but he’d been here quite a bit.
“If I get the urge to spank you it will be with my bare hand, I assure you, and appropriate to the moment.” Winter’s grin was wicked and playful.
He rolled his eyes and nipped Winter’s chin, playing back. “So, what’s your interest in this whole thing, love?”
“Aesthetics, mostly. That’s a broad view of my kinks. Makeup, clothing, leather, beautiful bodies, pretty bondage…and I like to watch. Everyone. Anything.” Winter sipped his coffee.
“Huh.” That made sense. He wasn’t really sure he had a kink. He liked Winter a lot, he loved how Winter saw him—but that was called being an exhibitionist, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure he was that.
Whatever. It didn’t matter, he guessed. He was him. That worked.
“That’s all? ‘Huh?’” Winter snorted. “I’m not sure what to make of that response, petit.”
He kissed Winter’s throat. “Oh, I was just thinking about me, honey, not you, and that it made sense. You do like to see things.”
