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“That’s a question you should answer yourself.”
Roman blew out a long breath. He couldn’t, not with Caleb watching him. So he set off again, his thoughts spinning. Was he a Dom? That made it sound like an identity, like something he was rather than something he did.
He was dominant in character, that he’d never deny. He always had been, just like his brother. A natural leader, his high school counselor had called him. And he hated working under someone else, especially if his boss was incompetent. Been there, done that, hated every fucking minute of it. Sure, he still had a boss, but one who gave him free rein.
But dominant and Dominant weren’t the same thing, were they? “I’m not entirely sure what the difference is between being dominant as a characteristic and being a Dom.”
“I’d say the difference is the joy a Dom gets out of D/s play and out of someone submitting to them.”
Joy. Not how Roman would’ve described how he’d felt with Caleb. It had been more a rush of power, an intense awareness of the moment, of the beauty of Caleb’s submission.
Wait.
Weren’t joy and beauty the same thing in this case? Awe, joy, beauty, they were so closely related. So what did that mean? If he had found joy in what they’d shared, did that mean he…? He groaned. “I can’t wrap my head around this right now. Too much on my plate.”
“I’m not asking you to have all the answers. I don’t need them.”
“You don’t?”
“Not to sound desperate, but I’ll take whatever you can give me. I like serving you.”
I like serving you. Could it be that simple for Caleb? Roman envied him for the casualness of that statement, of that feeling. He was probably overthinking shit, as he was prone to do, and seeing problems and complications where there were none. “You don’t need assurances about what I want? Or, I don’t know, about the future?”
“I really don’t. Also, I know what you want. You want to let go. You need to not worry about anything for a few minutes…and I can help you with that.”
Maybe it could be that simple. “Do I need Wander’s permission or anything?”
“Nope. He’s not my Dom anymore, nor does he own me, but more importantly, he gave me to you as a present, so he damn well knew what the potential consequences could be. He can’t object now.”
Roman was rapidly running out of arguments, let alone excuses. “I give up. You win.”
Caleb threw his head back and laughed. “I win? I didn’t realize this was a competition. And what are we competing for exactly?”
Crap. That was not how he’d meant it at all. “I didn’t?—
“I’m messing with you.” Caleb bumped his shoulder again. “I knew what you meant, and it’s all good. We’ll call it a win-win, how’s that?”
“I win relaxation, and you win…?”
“You.”
Funny, he’d never been someone’s prize…and it felt damn good.
10
Caleb rapped his knuckles against the dark mahogany door of Roman’s room, the sharp taps echoing slightly in the dimly lit hallway. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his black training pants whispering with the movement. Tension coiled in his gut—the charged anticipation of a scene mixed with a solid dose of worry that Roman had changed his mind.
Caleb wouldn’t blame him. The man had a lot on his plate, and discovering this new side of himself had to be confusing under the best circumstances. His brother had been a Dom for twenty years, so Roman had to wonder why he’d never realized his own dominant tendencies. But maybe he’d never put himself in a position where he tried experimenting with that. Just like he’d stayed away from men for the most part—to protect himself. That would make total sense.
“Come in.” Roman’s voice carried through the door, a thread of weariness woven into the two words.
Caleb pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was cast in shadows, only a single lamp on the nightstand breaking the gloom. Roman sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in his suit pants and a white undershirt, looking tired. Stress etched deep lines into his face as if he’d somehow grown older that day.
“Hey,” Caleb said.
“Hey.”
“You said to stop by your room later, so here I am.”
