Page 13 of Branding the Bat

Sero laughed. Actually laughed, out loud, alone in his apartment. The sound surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time a text message had made him laugh. The pronghorn's texts had been functional at best, at the casino, back by 10, don't wait up, and the gecko had communicated primarily in emojis that Sero had never learned to decode.

He typed:Are you always this ridiculous?

Only when I'm trying to impress someone. Is it working?

Sero bit his lip.Maybe.

A pause. Then:I was thinking about you. About yesterday. I've never had a session like that.

The sentimental-idiot part of his brain was now fully operational.Same.

I mean it. Eight times, Sero. I've been doing this for years and no one has ever done that much. You're something else.

Sero put his phone down and pressed his hands over his face. He was not going to read that message three more times. He was absolutely not going to screenshot it. He was a grown man with a job and an apartment and a bowl of strawberries, and he was not going to behave like a teenager getting his first love note.

He picked the phone back up and read the message three more times.

Thanks,he typed, because he was apparently incapable of a better response when someone said something genuinely nice to him. Then, before Trevor could reply to that inadequacy:I've never gone past two. With anyone. I didn't know I could.

You didn't know because no one ever pushed you hard enough. Most Doms wouldn't. They'd hear "high pain tolerance" and give you a few extra swats and call it a day. They wouldn't build the scene around it.

That was exactly right, and it stung a little to see it laid out so plainly. Every Dom Sero had played with had treated his pain tolerance as a novelty, oh, the bat can take more hits, how fun, without ever asking what more actually meant. Without ever wondering what was on the other side of the threshold they couldn't be bothered to reach.

How did you know?Sero typed.That I'd respond like that?

I didn't. I hypothesized. Cats are curious. We test things.A pause. And honestly? The way you said "harder" after the first five strikes. Most subs ask for more because they think they should, or because they want to impress the Dom. You asked because you were bored. That told me everything.

Sero smiled. He had been bored. That first set of flogger strikes had been wallpaper, visible but unremarkable.You're very observant for a housecat.

Housecats are the most observant predators on earth. We watch everything and pretend we don't care. It's our greatest strength.

What's your greatest weakness?

A longer pause.Pretty bats who ask good questions. Listen, can I come over? I have grapes.

Sero looked around his apartment. It was clean, it was always clean, but the blanket was on the couch and there were strawberry stems on the coffee table and the TV was showing an anglerfish unhinging its jaw to swallow something larger than its own head. Not exactly seductive ambiance.

Sure, he typed. Then:But I'm not in the mood for anything physical tonight. Just so you know.

That's fine. I wanted to see you. And bring you grapes. Those are the only two items on my agenda.

Fifteen minutes later, Trevor was at his door.

He was wearing a different shirt, gray, soft-looking, untucked over dark jeans. No duffle bag. No fake cat ears. He looked more human than he had at the club, and somehow that made him more attractive rather than less. In one hand he held a bag of large red grapes. In the other, nothing. He'd come with grapes and himself and he'd said that was the whole agenda and apparently he'd meant it.

"Here." Trevor thrust the grapes at him. "I think they're the kind you had yesterday. At least the same color."

Sero took the bag and looked at them. They were, in fact, the same kind: large, red, seedless. The kind he bought every week. The kind he'd carried into the room between his teeth.

"You remembered what kind of grapes I eat," Sero said.

"I'm observant. We established this." Trevor leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, and waited. Not pushing in. Not assuming he was welcome. Just waiting.

Sero stepped aside. "Come in."

Trevor moved through his apartment the way he moved through everything, with a cat's awareness of space, noting surfaces and corners and the distance between objects. He paused at the TV, where the anglerfish documentary had given way to a segment on bioluminescent jellyfish. "Beautiful," he said.

Sero couldn't tell if he meant the jellyfish or the apartment or something else entirely.