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Carter crossed the room to us then extended a hand, which Tristan shook with his free hand. “How’s it going, man?”

“Going well.” Tristan smiled softly, sweetly, matching the low volume of Carter’s question. “How are you?”

I could practically see the stars in Carter’s eyes. “So good. Henry had me flying.”

Tristan eyed me as if to say “he’s good like that,” but he kept his mouth shut. He turned back to Carter. “The two of you were really hot.”

“Thanks.” Carter grinned. “Well, I’m heading out. Thanks again, Henry. You’re a lifesaver.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat but managed what I hoped was a believable smile. “You’re welcome, Carter.” I skipped my usual “anytime” because I knew I couldn’t offer that anymore. Things had changed. Maybe I had changed. But consent had to be ongoing and enthusiastic—one of the main rules of Kink Night, as it turned out—and I couldn’t attest to either. Carter would need to find another scene partner.

Carter waved before opening the door, letting the dance music in for a brief moment, before it closed behind him.

Tristan immediately turned back to me. “Daddy, please be honest with me.” His eyes scanned mine as if he could see into my soul. He probably could, angel that he was. “Are you really okay?”

I opened my mouth to give him a quick “yes,” but that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. All successful relationships relied on clear and truthful communication, kink relationships even more so. So instead, I answered as honestly as I could. “No. But I will be.”

Tristan stood, tugging on the hand he still held. I lifted from my chair, wondering what the plan would be until he eyed the bed. “That clean?”

I nodded, confident in my reply. “Yes. Timothy always changes the bed after every scene, at least when it’s used.”

Tris cocked his head to one side. “He your emcee?”

“Oh! Yeah.” I offered him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I didn’t know you hadn’t met him.”

“Some other time.” Tristan smiled as he led me toward the bed. The duvet looked supremely comfortable, and I just wanted to face-plant into it and wake up in like three weeks.

But before I could, Tristan commanded, “Strip.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

He smirked. “Those leather pants can’t be comfortable. Come on.”

As Tristan kicked off his shoes, climbed up onto the bed, and arranged the pillows until he was comfortably sitting against the headboard, I did as I was told, leaving my pants on the floor. Then Tristan reached his arms out to me where I stood staring at him, naked as the day I was born. Going commando was essential in my skintight pair of leather pants. “Come on, Henry,” he pleaded, “let me hold you.”

He didn’t have to tell me again. I lurched forward, splaying out next to him on the bed and wrapping my arms around his still-clothed torso. He encircled my shoulders, and we both pulled tighter simultaneously. As I snuggled up close to him, my head on his chest, I wished I could meld our souls into one with the strength of a hug.

Tristan stayed quiet for the longest time, his hand threading through my hair, calming the storm inside me. I luxuriated in the stillness of the room despite the pounding bass bleeding through the walls. I wanted to stay in this man’s arms forever.

It shouldn’t have surprised me that I longed for that more than anything. The fact that we’d ever gotten together was a miracle—and I would do everything I could to keep him.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Tristan’s hand stilled, and I shifted to look up at him. He smiled sweetly down at me. “Feeling better?”

Suddenly, I couldn’t speak. I swallowed once then simply nodded.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. How could one person be everything I’d ever wanted? He was kind, sweet, and tender but a devil in bed. Tristan was a delicious juxtaposition, and I couldn’t wait to discover all the facets of him. “You thirsty?”

I nodded again, so he twisted to reach for one of the sealed water bottles on the nightstand.

“This okay?”

Another nod—apparently the only thing I was capable of at the moment—and soon I found the bottle open and in my hand. I lifted slightly and took a sip, knowing from my few years of experience and training that I needed to recover slowly so I didn’t overwhelm my system.

I swallowed the cool liquid then took a bigger drink. After a little while, I’d consumed half the bottle. I handed it back to Tris, who twisted the cap back on and placed it on the nightstand.

“Thank you, sweet boy.” I’d deliberately avoided using this particular moniker for Carter. Tristan was the only sweet boy I wanted.

His soft smile widened as if he realized that. “You’re welcome, Daddy. How are you feeling?”