How dare Graham do this to them?
Colton crouches down, forces himself to be low and exposed, refusing the rush of dominance that wants him to shove Grahamto the wall and set him straight. He presses his hands over his eyes.
He willnotescalate this. Even though Graham is practically begging Colton to react, poking at him and being insulting, even though Graham is likely in the beginning stages of a drop and that’s calling to Colton in a primitive way, he isn’t going to react.
He laughs unhappily, needing a release of tension. And he was so fucking wrong that he either has to laugh or lash out.
“You would think it was funny,” Graham says, voice hard and defensive.
“It’s not funny as though it’s actually amusing. I’m laughing at myself for being so stupid. Jesus, here I was wondering if you were thinking about me as much as I’d been thinking about you, feeling like we’d had a fucking connection. And, you know what, not just a brief connection but an epic, profound connection, and I was totally wrong. So, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at me. Maybe that will make you feel a little better. You may hate me, but I don’t feel that way about you. I’m not sure I’lleverget over you. Can you believe it? What the fuck did I let them do to me?” he says, which oddly enough isn’t anything he’s ever thought before.
His life was saved by getting a designation, the cancer gone overnight. This has been nothing but a gift. Until Graham. Because the draw and attraction he feels is outsized, abnormal, and spliced into him.
Graham swears. “I have to get out of here. I can’t do this.” He punches the wall. Bits of the ceiling rain down on them. That’s how strong Graham is. But he shouldn’t lash out.
Colton can’t allow the submissive to be that out of control. It will only make his drop worse.
He gets to his feet.
Refusing to engage, backing down, and putting himself in physically submissive positions is not allowing Graham the space to get himself back together and find control.
Graham’s beyond that. Despite the bluster and anger, maybe what’s needed is for Colton to act like the Dominant he is. Retreating and placating aren’t working.
Graham is panting heavily, staring down at his blood-covered hand with wide eyes. Colton removes his goggles, lights up a flare for visibility, and throws it off to the side so he can see clearly.
“Give me your hand,” he orders, and Graham goes utterly still, refusing to do what Colton asked. But he doesn’t move away, so Colton reaches for him instead, holds out his own hand, palm open, and Graham finally sighs, places his hand gently in Colton’s.
Colton nods in approval, knows Graham is so volatile and looking for a fight that his best course of action is to stay calm and try to exert his dominance as lightly as possible.
Colton looks at the bleeding knuckles but can’t tell much under the wash of blood. “Make a fist. Is it broken?”
Graham doesn’t obey. His hand trembles. The regulations say that if a submissive begins to drop on mission, a Dominant can assume command and use whatever means necessary to pull the submissive out of it, but he doesn’t want to do that. For a lot of reasons, he doesn’t want to do that.
“Please make a fist so I can see if it’s broken. Please?” he asks, voice soft.
Graham looks up at him with confusion, as if he’s searching for the trick. He makes a half fist then exhales sharply.
“Donotpush through the pain or you’ll make it worse,” Colton snaps.
Graham gasps, sways on his feet, and leans closer.
Great. A submissive who does want to be dominated but can’t stop himself from fighting. And Graham is so against submission that Colton has no idea what the submissive will do when this is over.
At least one of them might be in deep shit if Colton can’t get them through this.
“We have to get this bandaged up,” he says, hoping Graham will listen to reason. “You’ll need to get an X-ray when this is over.”
“No,” Graham says, voice dull. “I’m fine.”
Well, that’s a fucking lie. “Let’s make sure nothing is broken. I’ll check.” He takes Graham’s wrist between his hands and gently feels along the palm and then the fingertips, working his way up the hand. He presses carefully along each knuckle, starting with the pinky in order to give Graham a moment to get used to Colton’s touch.
Graham hisses when he gets to the middle finger.
“I think you should get this checked out.”
“I’m fine,” Graham says breathily, and it’s so far from the truth that Colton doesn’t bother to argue with him.
“I’ve got bandages in my pack,” he says, and he lets go of Graham’s hand to find the first aid kit. He finds the bandages and stands back up.
