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I was baffled at the sincerity in his voice. Had he actuallylikedthis guy? Did he havefeelingsfor him? Was Ijealous?Jesus Christ.
Kyle seemed confused too, staring between me and Minty. I didn’t know if it was the Dom/sub thing that had his slow little mind spinning, or if it was the way Minty touched his arm with sincere care and spoke to him tenderly.
“What we had was important to you,” Minty said. “You needed it as much as I did, and I’m sorry I can’t let you have it anymore. It meant a lot to me too, for what it’s worth. You understood me, and I thank you for that.”
“Understoodyou? I hate you,” Kyle whispered, glancing around again. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
“I know,” Minty said, stroking his arm again. “And that’s what I needed. I hope you can find someone else to make you come like I can make you come, but I doubt it. There aren’t many guys like me out there. Most aren’t willing to take a beating like that. I’m so sorry, Kyle, but I can’t help you anymore.”
“Helpme?” Kyle shook his head. “You’re insane.”
“Of course I am. What did you think it meant that I let you dowhat you did to me and actually liked it?” Minty withdrew his hand from Kyle’s arm and pushed on into his room. “I really can’t talk anymore right now. My Dom and I are going on a date. Good luck to you. I really hope you get what you’re looking for. You’re really good at it.”
“Good at it…” Kyle trailed off, and then glanced up at me. “Good luck, dude. He’s a fucking maniac.”
I wanted to defend Minty, tell Kyle not to speak that way about my…my what? Not my sub, butyesmy sub. Minty wasn’t my boyfriend, but the way I wanted to wring this monster’s abusive, nasty neck told me that I was in deep emotionally. Yes, the desire to murder this asshole told me I’d entirely lost my footing and was absolutely drowning.
Shit.
I really shouldn’t be doing this. I was thirty-four years old. I had HIV and would probably start getting sick sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I had a sister to take care of and parents who needed help. By all rights, I had no room in my life right now for love. I’d told Benji that, and I meant it.
But what was this feeling in my chest—this protective, urgent feeling—for this unreasonable blond twink I had every intention of fucking in a vanilla and sweet way tonight?
I wasn’t dumb. I knew what it was.
Fuck.
Kyle had already stalked away by the time I’d sorted through my feelings and thoughts and come up with what I’d wanted to say—touch him again and you’ll answer to me—so I swallowed the threat down and followed Minty into his dorm room.
The walls were covered in posters, like most dorm rooms were from what I recalled during my brief time in college. There were two beds, both made neatly, and a set of colored twinkle lights wrapped around an exposed pipe running across the ceiling of theroom. They were on, but so were the overheads, so they didn’t add much to the ambience.
“I’m sorry about him. He’s missing me is all,” Minty said, putting the roses in a vase on his desk next to a hand-drawn poster of various colored blobs and arrows. At the top, it was labeled “Photosynthesis,” and above it was a giant poster of assorted salamanders of the world.
Next to it was another, smaller print of different kinds of butterflies, and across the room there was a fourth poster, this one of animals on the endangered species list, and beside it a large photo of a young Jane Goodall with a chimpanzee friend, and besidethata plastic placard urging recycling.
I blinked. I hadn’t imagined Minty—lacy, pretty Minty of the makeup and the skirts—being this into nature and biology.
On the back of the door was a long white, red, and black poster of a meditating Asian man and the wordsTrue victory is victory over oneself. Above it on the space between the door and ceiling was a photo of Minty with a trophy in hand, standing next to a tall man. Both were wearing martial arts garb.
There were a few music-related posters too. The B-52s and the classic “Faith” shot of George Michael’s ass. Next to the bed, there was a collage of fashion models sporting wild clothes and makeup, all of which I could see Minty aspiring to wear.
“He really needed to fuck me,” Minty said softly, as he stood in front me, worry creasing his brow. “You’re not angry, are you? I promise I haven’t let him touch me since I signed our contract. Not even once.”
I cleared my throat, my brain spinning between the new information about Minty’s interests, martial arts history, and musical taste, and this absolutely unhinged take he had on his situation with that Kyle asshole.
I sucked in a slow breath and started with the most importantthing right now. “I’m not angry with you, and I believe you. Don’t worry about that.”
I touched his hair, brushing back a soft piece that had come loose from the barrettes. “But Mitchell—”
“We’re not playing now. It’s Minty.”
“Fair enough. Minty, he doesn’tloveyou. You know that, right?”
Minty sighed, leaning against me.
I wrapped my arms around him. I’d never really held him like this—clothed and not covered in sweat and cum—but it felt right to hold him now. I wanted to keep him here in my arms, protected from the assholes of the world who would want to hurt him in ways I couldn’t control or, worse, who’d just want to hurt him until he bled or broke or died.
“He hated me,” Minty agreed. “He hated how much he wanted me. I liked how that felt, loved it even. But, no, I guess he didn’t loveme.” He pulled back and gazed up at me. “But you don’t love me either, do you? So, what’s the difference? He needed to fuck me and hurt me, just like you need to—”
