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Sol lifted his chin and smiled. “You nailed it. I had to know if there was a switch inside you, if it had always been in you, and I was just bringing that side of you out into the open.”
Butch wanted to know the same thing.
A fragment of the previous night filtered back into his head. “Something you said last night… about honoring my limits.” He’d wanted to ask about that at the time, but Sol’s tongue in his hole had robbed him of all coherent thought.
Sol chuckled. “That’s a conversation in itself.” Then his expression grew solemn. “We can talk about this, but I need to message Toby to tell him I’ll be delayed.” He released Butch’s hand and reached for his phone on the nightstand.
Butch rose. “No, don’t do that. Go have your breakfast, and we can talk later.”
What he needed right then was space to breathe, to think…
To process.
“If you’re sure…”
He managed a smile. “I’m sure.” He finished dressing, his thoughts still in a whirl. “Message me later, okay? There’s stuff I need to do this morning.”
Such as taking Bailey for a long ride to try to clear up the mess inside his head.
Sol waited until Butch’s footsteps on the stairs died away, then sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them.
I should’ve foreseen this.
Butch had come such a long way in a very short time span, but he had to be struggling. Right then his life had to resemble a juggling act as he tried to work out who in the hell he was: bisexual, a (potentially) natural submissive, and maybe even a bottom—the episode with the vibrator and the previous night when he’d begged for Sol’s fingers inside him made it all too clear Butch was considering that as an option, despite his first time being an epic fail.
I showed him how good it can feel.
And hadn’t that been the aim all along?
Seeing him struggle brought all of Sol’s caring instincts to the fore.
I just want to bring out the best in him. To let him enjoy experiences that had been denied him—or more accurately, that he’d denied himself.
Sol had used the miles between them to hang back, allowing Butch space to grow.
But into what? And does he want that?
Sol knew he was pushing Butch, but he had to know if he could coax out the submissive he was certain lurked inside him. There was so much Butch needed to know, the ins and outs of the BDSM lifestyle the videos he’d undoubtedly seendidnot show. And such a conversation would have to be handled delicately, carefully…
When he’s ready to talk, I have to be ready to lay it all out for him.
It was only then that the truth dawned.
I’m not doing this so he can discover himself and become another man’s submissive.
Hell no.
Sol wanted Butch for himself, but there was still a long way to go before that could happen—if it could even get that far.
Chapter 42
Butch sat on his unfurled bedroll and gazed out at the calm, crystal clear waters of Mirror Lake. On the other side, majestic mountains rose up from a swathe of dark green pine trees, and rocky outcrops sloped down to the water’s edge. The sky was eye-hurtingly blue, not a wisp of cloud to be seen, and the temperature was just right.
Summer wasn’t ready to call it a day, apparently.
The peaceful landscape was not a reflection of the state of Butch’s mind, however. He lay on his back, hands folded beneath his head, and stared at the sky above.
What the fuck am I doing?
