Emotions, obviously. Physical manifestations of emotions. But it could be anything. Even with these clues, they all feel the same. Muddy and murky and mixed together. How could I possibly pluck the right one from the pile and think, ‘this is the one that I’m feeling right now’? They’re all so similar.
“Are…” Tommy clears his throat, still watching the dark rain hit the glass. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Are you…alright?”
I don’t know how to answer that without making it sound like I’m accusing him of something. All I have are my observations. I know he’s acting different, but I can’t even begin to tell him how it makes mefeel. Before he came along, I wasn’t even sure if I felt anything at all.
My lack of an answer must be answer enough for him. He reaches over, still without looking, and grabs my hand. His shoulders hunch up near his ears, like he’s embarrassed.
“Nothing is wrong, alright? I know I’m being squirrely. Just…let me process it, okay? Nothing is wrong.”
“Do you need something from me, Tommy?” I ask him, letting him interlock our fingers together, my heartbeat slowing down. If he’s reaching out to me, that must mean something, right?
“I…”
The car pulls to a stop under an awning leading to brightly lit, wide-open double doors. The historic church building was renovated into an event venue, but the brick facade and decorative stained glass were kept in the renovations. The two-story building has an old-world bell tower that hasn’t been used in decades, and everything is lit from within like there are spotlights inside. A valet rushes to get the door for us, an umbrella in his hand.
He opens Tommy’s door.
Before he gets out, Tommy looks at me, and the dark fire in his eyes takes my breath away.
“I just need you to keep me,” he says quickly. “Like you promised.”
And with that, he pulls away and hustles into the venue, looking for Kira. I stare after him, and only get out when the valet leans down to look at me.
“Sir?” he asks.
I wave him aside and stalk into the church. Keep him? Tommy has nothing to worry about.
Is that what he’s feeling? Worry?
Am I failing a test without even realizing it?
Does he still not know he’s mine?
Shit.The Daddy-boy dynamic has been so good for me. For us. It clears the gap in my emotional void, giving clear cause and effect patterns to our dynamic; push and pull, tests and corrections, pleasure and pain. But if he needs something else from me, something less clear-cut, something more… emotional? I don’t know if I’ll be able to pass that kind of test.
I let a doorman take my raincoat and sear the entire building with my glare.
The first floor used to be the main church, where services were held. The stained glass isn’t glowing because it’s so dark and stormy outside, but it’s still lovely next to all the modern art.
Massive, walk-through art pieces made of glittering crystals, beaten gold, neon plastic that’s carved in fluid shapes, and marble pillars with glowing seams running through them are scattered in the large space. Most of the younger crowd is posingfor photos, taking advantage of the interesting backgrounds created by the setup. I spot Tommy joining Kira near a floor-to-ceiling art piece made of fluttering paper scraps and fabric ribbons.
I will him to look my way, to prove that he can still feel me.
He kisses Kira’s hand, takes a subtle look around, and his eyes land on me.
I’ll keep you alright,I try to promise him with my eyes. He licks his lips nervously and turns away.
That’s fine. If this is some kind of test, I just need to figure out how to pass. And Tommy, as usual, has given me the biggest clue already. He wants me to keep him. If he’s trying to hint that he’s about to run away, or that he wants another chase, I’ll give that to him. If he’s trying to warn me of an incoming fit of temper or some kind of ultimate pushback against my authority, I’ll be ready.
I’m not sure what he’s feeling, but he’s good at giving me hints. I just need to be patient and listen carefully. Once I act, it will be decisive. I’ll know what to do if I can just pay close attention.
There’s a second-story overlook where the choir used to sing above the church-goers, and I spot the older generation mingling up there. With a sigh, I take the spiral staircase, knowing that I’m expected to join them.
I’d much rather be with Tommy, picking him apart, putting him back together, spanking him until heknowshe’s mine and no other emotional tests are necessary.
