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“Yup.” He smacks his lips together on the word, opening and putting things together like it’s instinctual. By now, I suppose it would be.
“Let me know if you need help.”
I catch his eye roll as I swivel my chair back to face my laptop, which has a dozen or so half baked fundraiser ideas scattered about. It’s a shared document with the rest of the RAs, and though I try to pick through the suggestions for something decent to string together, it’s nothing but a colossal mess.
“Wow. I see the word fun really doesn’t exist in your vocabulary.”
Shiloh’s breath brushes the side of my face as he leans over my shoulder. My first thought is that he needs a solid speech on personal space and privacy, but my second is that I’m not a fan of lecturing so I’d rather just go straight to a punishment. I have to remind myself that Shiloh isn’t mine to discipline just as he isn’t mine to pleasure.
“I think our ideas of fun are vastly different.”
He scoffs and pushes away from my chair. “I don’t think you’ve had fun a day in your life.”
I type a quick message to the others and shut the laptop. “My kind of fun happens behind closed doors.”
“That’s either sexual or extremely boring.”
“Could be both.” I grab my jacket off the end of my bed and slip into it. “Let’s go, sweetheart. You’ve got a drug test to pass.”
Shiloh rolls his eyes hard and grabs his bag off the floor. “This is demeaning.”
“Yeah well. Actions have consequences.”
“You’d know, wouldn’t you?”
He doesn’t even have to look at me as he knocks my shoulder and heads out into the hall. The dry, cutting tone has a million hidden meanings—each one I know is a direct jab. If I thought forgiveness or letting bygones be bygones was an option before, I’m certain they aren’t now.
After stopping in with the nurse and a stuffy, official looking man, I drag Shiloh along to the library where Rascal and Korra are waiting in one of the study rooms with a whiteboard.
Shiloh slinks off to a chair in the corner immediately, pulling out his phone and earbuds before I can even introduce him to the group.
“I expected nothing less,” I mutter as Rascal steps up to me with a sly look. “Not a word.”
He mimes locking his lips and clasps his arms behind his back. “Just wondering how the whole watchdog thing was going. Pretty well, it seems.”
“Perfect if you take into account he won’t say two words to me that aren’t snarky, hateful, and sarcastic.”
Rascal smiles, eyes darting to Shiloh and back to me as it widens. “You want to lay into him so hard, don’t you?”
I sigh, because Rascal knows full well my list of kinks and preferences, and even if they don’t quite line up with his, he has no problem ribbing me about them every chance he gets.
“What would you do?”
“For what? Being rude?” I cross my arms and take a look around at the few people in the space, ultimately landing back on Shiloh. “Nothing bad. He’s cranky and uncomfortable. Probably make him sit on his knees in front of the whiteboard and listen.”
I fight back the twitch of my lips into an amused smile, but Rascal still catches it and raises a brow. “You had another thought?”
“Shirtless at the front of the room. Instead of jotting our ideas down on the whiteboard…”
“Oooh, jot them down on emo boy? I wish. I love seeing you go Dom.”
With a sigh, I sit my bag on the floor and direct Rascal towards the others.
I don’t necessarily consider myself a Dom. I’ve never been involved in the kink scene itself, though I did research into some of my interests when I first discovered them. Still, I aim to be as safe as possible, but I don’t actually understand the scene or role enough to feel comfortable with the title.
I like what I like, and I try to be as open and respectful with my partners as possible.
“Is that him?” Korra raises onto her tiptoes to peer over my shoulder. “Not the friendliest, is he?”
