I stroked a pattern at his temple, thumb slow and heavy, and watched the way his breathing evened out. He looked almost asleep, and I didn’t mind. I didn’t want to move. Not yet.
Some part of me wanted to ask if I could see him again. Not just for more play, but for this. The after moments. But I bit my tongue.
He was vulnerable as hell, and I wasn’t a fucking predator. I had to be careful. It wasn’t fair to make him think I wanted more. I didn’t have time in my life for more.
I let him rest until his heartbeat finally steadied out, then I leaned down and caught his gaze. He flinched, but only a little, like he’d forgotten how to be embarrassed.
“You’re good?” I kept my voice low. The last thing I wanted was to jar him.
He nodded, voice shot. “Yes, sir.” His face worked, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
I let that be enough.
“Get dressed slowly.” I helped him sit up, hands bracing his back. He shivered again, so I just wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders and kept a hand on him until he stopped swaying.
For a second he just sat there, blinking, like he was coming back to himself in pieces.
I almost reached for his shirt and dressed him myself. That was a line, though. I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep.
I gave him the space to do it, standing off to the side, but I kept my eyes on him. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in this.
When he finally managed to button his shirt and pull up his pants, he looked up at me, face so open it made my chest ache.
“I… Thank you, sir.” The words were thin, nearly a whisper. He glanced down at me and my obvious erection through my pants. “Can I help, sir?”
I shook my head. “I don’t need that right now. You did well. Thank you.”
He ducked his head, hiding his smile, but it was there.
Something inside me twisted. I wanted to see what he’d look like, strung out and happy. I wanted to take him apart, see every hidden bit, then put him back together so he could walk out of here knowing he wasn’t just another stray.
But I didn’t say it. I wasn’t ready for that kind of need.
I walked him out, hand braced at his elbow, slow and careful so he didn’t trip. The hallway was empty. Nobody looked twice at us.
He leaned into the touch, just a little. Like he’d never had anyone do it before.
At the main room, I let go. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. It wasn’t fair to confuse him.
I stroked a finger down his cheek, nodded once, then turned and walked away.
Chapter four
Clayton
Four empty days later it had turned out the Santa people wanted more from me. When I got my first office Christmas party starring as the main man, I was ecstatic. Jenny, who handled the bookings, said I was a natural, and I nearly laughed. The money wasn’t enough to fix the plumbing or rewire the bungalow, but it was keeping the lights on.
It also distracted me from Master Felix, and hell, did I need the distraction. I was determined to wait a whole week to go back to the club, but Jenny at the agency kept calling, and the gigs poured in. By the second Monday, my voicemail was full.
“Clayton, you’re booked nearly every night this week! You’re gold, Santa. I even had a client request you by name.” Jenny sounded giddy. I should have felt proud.
Maybe I did.
The gigs weren’t glorious, but the parents that worked for whatever company loved bringing in their families. Some were adult-only parties with a lot of awkward office flirting. But I was good at it. I made people laugh. It had been the same in my job.When I put on a suit it was like armor, even when this particular suit was red, the beard itched, and the suit made me sweat. No one knew I nearly disappeared into myself at home, desperate to hand over control to another.
The carpet had been rough against my knees. Not enough to break skin, but enough to burn after a while. Jason had said it was good for me—humbling, he’d called it. Said that a good submissive needed to learn patience.
At first, I’d believed him.
