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“Well, at least the first and last were nice.”
“I guess. But I’m starting to get really fucking frustrated.” Carter reaches for his glass of wine on the coffee table, taking a long drink. He decides to keep it in his hands, figuring he’ll want more very soon. “What if I can’t have sex with anyone but Travis?”
Casey turns on the couch to face him, frowning. “What if you can’t?”
“Then when I go back to him, I’ll always fucking wonder if that’s the reason why, instead of because I really wanted to be with him.”
“When?”
“What?”
Casey smirks. “You said when you go back to him.”
“If,” Carter mumbles. He looks down at his glass, avoiding his best friend’s too-knowing stare. “I meant if.”
“Mhm.”
“Shut up,” Carter grumbles. His friend steals his wine, earning a glare. “Do you not know where our glasses are?”
“Too far away. Don’t complain or I won’t help you.”
Carter rolls his eyes. “But you’re not helping me.”
“Jeez. Give me some time, Mr. Impatient.” Casey takes another gulp of wine, just to piss him off. This asshole. He’s lucky Carter loves him. “I was thinking - maybe you need something that you’re not getting with these guys. Not Travis, but something Travis gave you. What was the sex like with him?”
“I mean… do you really want to hear that?”
“Oh, for sure.” Casey wiggles his eyebrows. “Tell me all about it. Was it kinky? Rough? Gentle? Quick?"
Carter’s face goes hot. He never imagined having this conversation with Casey. Or anyone, for that matter. In fact, he’s been trying really fucking hard to not even think about this stuff.
Maybe it’s about time, though.
“The sex was sort of kinky, I guess. Or a lot kinky, maybe. Rough. I liked when he - when he dominated me. I liked to please him. I guess? I don't know. It was less about what we were doing, and more about taking what he gave me and letting him push my limits and then me doing well and him calling me good. I liked being good for him, you know? God, being called his good boy was better than an orgasm sometimes.” Carter rubs a hand over his face. He can’t get himself to look at Casey. “That’s fucked up, right? I mean - he was my rapist. And all I wanted was to be good for him.”
“No,” Casey says quietly. “It’s not fucked up. It just… is, Carter.”
“Yeah, but is that even what I like?” He looks up at Casey, needing to see his friend’s face now. Needing to see if he’s hiding any thoughts or feelings about this discovery. Casey looks nothing but understanding though. Maybe a little worried, too. “What if I don’t even like being kinky and rough and dominated, but that’s just how this fucked up experience wired my brain and body now?”
“So?”
Carter gapes at him. “So? What do you mean, so?”
“So what? You know what’s a waste of fucking time, Carter? What ifs. Would you have found kink on your own if you weren’t kidnapped and trafficked? Maybe, maybe not. Would you have fallen in love with Travis if you met in a different way? Maybe, maybe not. Would we be best friends if we weren’t put through what we were put through together? Maybe, maybe fucking not. It doesn’t matter. Because they all happened. You were kidnapped and trafficked, and now you’re into kink. You were purchased by Nathan Roarke, and you met and fell in love with Travis. We were put in that cage and became best friends.”
Carter steals his wine back, draining the entire glass. Then, “I still want to know if I can do it without Travis.”
“Then you, my friend, need to find a dominant.”
There aren’t any BDSM clubs nearby, but the college’s small BDSM group - with a Facebook page of 27 members - hosts gatherings at a club 30 minutes away. It’s actually on the way to the safehouse, if they were to be going there. Carter tries not to dwell on the possible symbolism of that.
They only do a get-together once a month. Carter is lucky enough to find it two days before the event. He and Casey read over every detail like crazy. The dress code. The rules. The cover fee.
After that’s all memorized, they dive into the internet and look at every fucking aspect possible when it comes to BDSM. Carter learns a lot. More than he thought was out there, that’s for sure. He gets a few ideas of what he’d like in the future. He gets triggered once or twice, quickly clicking away from a video or picture as his stomach turns. Casey stops looking pretty soon after he starts, but Carter doesn’t call him out on it.
By the time Carter is ready for the event - dressed in tight black jeans and a black mesh crop top, adhering to the event dress code - he’s made up his mind about something. He doesn’t want Casey to come with. Not only does he not want his friend to have to be triggered or uncomfortable, he also feels like he needs to do this alone.
It clearly makes Casey nervous, but he agrees anyway.
