Counterpoint

by Anna Zabo

Dom huffed a laugh. “Good. ’Cause I wanna keep seeing you, Adrian Doran.”

  Adrian’s grin was like moonlight and stars, so beautiful. Dom traced a finger over that fine chin and held on to that image, that thought, even as Adrian pulled him close and fell into sleep beside him.

  Dominic Bradley kinda wanted Adrian forever. That should have been terrifying, but it felt as secure as the cuffs had around his wrists.

  The only problem was, he had no idea what to do with Domino or Twisted Wishes if that happened. Dominic—Adrian’s Dominic—didn’t live in the rock-and-roll world.

  But Dom did.

  Chapter Seven

  Adrian left Dominic soundly sleeping when he crept out of bed just past eight in the morning. He’d have loved to remain curled up around that lovely man, but nature called and sleep wasn’t going to come any more this morning. After the way he’d topped Dominic the previous night, he doubted Dominic would be moving much before ten. He’d barely fluttered his eyes when Adrian had kissed his brow.

  Instead, Adrian had grabbed a pair of boxers, padded down to the kitchen, ground fresh beans, and started a pot of coffee—and tried to work out the kinks in his sore muscles.

  Fuck, Dominic was something else. Adrian really couldn’t get enough of him. Utterly satisfying in bed, beautiful to behold, and a mind that whirled like a machine behind those deep brown eyes. What he wanted more of today was that mind.

  He’d probably have the body, too, but damned if they both needed a little time to recover from their escapades. While he still had plenty of energy, his stamina in his thirties wasn’t what it had been in his teens or twenties. Plus, he’d put Dominic through the wringer, too, judging from his screams, the way he’d come, and the tears on his cheeks. Second time he’d made Dominic cry from sex.

  Second time he’d made anyone cry like that. It was humbling and heartening and made Adrian’s heart tumble over and over. He’d seen it at BDSM parties a few times, but that had been with pain play, flogging, that kind of thing. Not from fucking. Not from merely tying someone up.

  A voice murmured in the back of his head, one that sounded very much like Janelle, the woman who’d taught him most of what he knew about bondage. There’s nothing merely about tying anyone up, Adrian.

  That was true.

  The coffeemaker’s gurgling marked the end of the brewing and the beginning of Adrian clearing out the fuzziness of his head. He pulled the little carton of heavy whipping cream out of the fridge, gave it a hearty shake, and poured a smidge in.

  Yeah, it was decadent as hell, and Jackson would have rolled his eyes at the fat content, but he only ever took his coffee like this at home on the weekend. Besides, the body still needed a little fat. Might as well grace his coffee with luxury.

  Adrian sipped and savored, then sipped again. This part of Brooklyn might have been rapidly becoming hipster central, but at least he could get small-batch beans that made his eyes roll back into his head.

  God. Brooklyn. Here. Home. He’d tied Dominic up. Fucked him. Topped him, even. No negotiation, not formally. Even though Dominic had consented, they were a bit in the woods when it came to this strange Dominant/submissive bondage arrangement they seemed to be developing. Adrian wasn’t sure that really bothered him, though. After a second sip, he decided it didn’t. Yes, he would always probe for consent, but something else Janelle had said was that lovers were like jewels. All were unique. All had their flaws. All required different settings.

  And that the wrong kind of pressure only cracked the stone.

  He didn’t want to crack Dominic. Shatter his world in bed, sure. But not hurt him. He wanted Dominic safe and secure in...whatever this was they were developing.

  He let out a sigh, poured himself a little more coffee, then headed upstairs. It had been a while since he’d been at a party, but the contacts were all still there. He and Janelle still saw each other on occasion. Coffee. Lunch. He’d made a point to rekindle the few friendships he’d had when he’d returned to New York.

  And this was not a topic he could share with Jackson, even if he were far closer to him. Jackson had tagged along to one party—“To see what it was all about,” he’d said. Afterward, he’d looked at Adrian with that shrewd gaze and shrugged. “Not my scene. Interesting, but not my scene.”

  No scorn, just facts. Nothing between them changed, other than Adrian rarely bringing his kink up to Jackson after that.

  Once Adrian dropped into the desk chair in his office, he sent a short note to Janelle. A friendly greeting. A suggestion to meet for lunch. He needed advice—assurances, really—that how he was handling kink with Dominic was fine, especially since he wasn’t following any path he’d taken before.

  Yeah, yeah, he knew in all the fiction about BDSM, the Dominant was supposed to be this godlike know-it-all. Even on the internet, in blogs and shit, they were these over-the-top personalities. Adrian wasn’t—not all the time. So yes, he worried that he’d fuck up. Especially since Dominic—

  He let out a breath and closed his eyes. Especially since he could fall very, very hard for Dominic if he let himself. He’d wanted more than a one-night stand, more than the occasional quick fuck at a club. Maybe he wasn’t looking for the husband and kids Jackson was after, but he wanted a partner. Someone to share his passions with. Learn about other passions from.

  Something other than the job that was slowly taking over his life.

  Adrian peeled his eyes open again and blinked at his inbox. Janelle had answered already.

  Of course we can do lunch, Adrian. Name the time and place.

  Simple, easy. He suggested midweek at a cafe close to his work. Moments later, she answered with an affirmative.

  So, that was done.

  He let his gaze roam around the office to all the mundane tasks he needed to do this weekend. Bills to pay. Shit to shred and recycle. Some magazines he wanted to read.

  Well, with lovely Dominic out like a light, he might as well clear his plate of some of those tasks. Extra time to focus on learning more about the beautiful man in his bed, once he woke up. He reached for the piles of bills and logged onto his bank’s website.

  * * *

  Dom woke to an empty bed, the faint scent of coffee in the air, and an aching body. The pain, though, felt good, and every move as he burrowed deeper into the sheets on Adrian’s bed reminded him just how well fucked he’d been the night before. Commanded. Used. Tied up. Holy shit.

  Throughout it all, Adrian had been kind and respectful. Forceful, too. Full of dirty talk and searing kisses. But also tender. And Dom had soared and floated and been so blissed out he’d cried and screamed.

  Was this what it was like to date? He didn’t think so. It had been years since he’d had any sexual relationship that had lasted more than a couple hours and hadn’t ended with Dom deleting the guy’s number. But he remembered the laughter and the joy of discovery and the unfolding of likes and dislikes.

  But not the passionate, heated, incredible sex. He didn’t just ache from the poundings he’d endured last night—he ached for more than that. To crawl not just into Adrian’s bed, but into his life, too. What else besides sex and books did the man like? What music, what art? Which movies were in his collection? How long had he lived here?

  There were traces of an authentic New York accent there, but also bits of a smooth all-American one going on, the voice broadcasters had. Or interviewers.

  Dom shivered. And there it was, the fear, the anxiety gnawing its way up his spine. Because for all he wanted Adrian to share his life—there were parts of Dom’s he couldn’t share. Not right now, anyway. What if Adrian rejected Domino? Worse, what if he told someone?

  It was that apprehension that had him crawling out of bed and grabbing his glasses. After he found his underwear and jeans, he used the bathroom and splashed water on his face.

  The face that reflected ba
ck looked a combination of happy and sleepy and scared, but none the worse for wear. Adrian face-fucking him with a vengeance hadn’t left him looking any different.

  Though he couldn’t say the same for the rest of his body. The ink hid a lot of it, but there were bruises on his hips and shoulders from hands and teeth, and Adrian’s hot-as-fuck mouth.

  Sparks ran up his back and he wiped his face with his hand. Down, boy. Yeah, he wanted another round, but he needed to know where they stood—what Adrian thought—and where this was going.

  It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t a fling. It was beyond a one-night stand. But what was it?

  And what could he let it be? Dom glanced at his hair. Once more, it was more or less a judicious glob of super-hold hair gel shy of being Domino’s unruly locks. He flattened that shit down as best he could. Last thing he needed was the rock star looking back at him.

  He’d planned on heading down to the kitchen, but gentle clicking drew him to a room on the same floor, one down the hall and next to the door that led to that exquisite library. Inside a room of blues and browns, with light streaming in from the window, sat Adrian in a leather desk chair, naked but for boxers, a pen in his mouth and papers—bills—spread out on his desk.

  Dom held his breath and watched because this—this moment was Adrian Doran. Truly him. Something he probably did every weekend. And god, was he gorgeous like this, too. Brow furrowed, lips twitching around the pen that bobbed up and down. His chestnut hair flopped in every direction, redder in the morning light, and his pale skin was lightly freckled on his shoulders, a detail Dom hadn’t noticed before, despite two nights with the man.

  Muscles moved as Adrian typed in numbers and clicked the mouse. Damn, those arms. The ones that had held him down and also held him sweetly. Dom exhaled, then whispered, “Adrian.”

  The pen fell from Adrian’s mouth and he jumped a bit, but when he turned, his whole being seemed to light up. “Dominic.”

  The deep rumble in that voice made Dom’s knees weak, and he leaned on the doorframe, smiling back. “I smelled coffee.”

  Adrian bent to retrieve his pen from the floor, then righted himself. “I made a pot. It’s down in the kitchen. I’d have cooked breakfast, too, but I didn’t know how long you’d sleep.”

  “Right. You said you cooked.” And as if on cue, Dom’s stomach growled.

  Laughter from the other man, and the sound was magic and as bright as the sunlight burnishing that auburn hair. “Well, I think someone likes the idea of food, so let’s feed that stomach of yours, shall we?”

  Adrian stood, and every part of Dom wanted to kneel down before him. “Wow.”

  “Wow?” Amusement and confusion in that one word.

  “You—do things to me.” Dom clutched the doorframe. “My mind goes all kinds of places when I see you.”

  “And where did your mind go now?” Adrian tilted his head, but didn’t move any closer.

  Should he actually tell the truth? That seemed—dangerous. But also the right thing. “The floor.” He met Adrian’s stare. “I wanted to kneel for you again.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why.”

  Adrian let out a small breath, and his fingers twitched. “If you’d like, you can do that. Come here and kneel for a moment.”

  That same strange buzz of headiness that had engulfed him last night rose and filled his head. “You don’t mind?”

  “Oh, Dominic.” Soft, velvet voice. So full of emotions. “No, no, I don’t mind at all.” He held out his hand.

  But rather than take it, Dom crossed the room, fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms around Adrian’s legs. Calm enveloped him. Joy. Things he didn’t understand. He wasn’t hard, wasn’t in a state of lust. Hell, he hadn’t even had coffee yet.

  A touch on his head, fingers caressing, smoothing his hair. “What is it you want?”

  “I have no fucking clue.” He pressed his cheek against Adrian’s thigh. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

  Adrian made a strangled sound. A laugh? A sigh? Dom pressed his forehead against skin and breathed in the decadent smell of Adrian. “I know I sound foolish.”

  “No, you don’t. Not at all.” Fingers tipped his chin up until he met Adrian’s downward gaze. “You’re a highly intelligent man. You’ve just found yourself somewhere unexpected.”

  In Adrian’s office, kneeling before him because he desperately wanted to. “This isn’t like me,” he murmured.

  “Maybe it is.” Adrian stroked his cheek. “I did want to talk to you about this today—about you and me and what you want—but I do think you need some coffee and food in that belly of yours.”

  Yeah, that sounded good. “Do you know what I really want?” He gave Adrian’s legs another hug.

  “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.” Dom heard the smile in those words. Didn’t even have to look up.

  He chuckled. “French toast. With a ton of syrup.” He raised his head and found Adrian laughing quietly. “And maybe some bacon.”

  “I have bacon, and everything I need to make you French toast that’s the best in the city.” Adrian patted his cheek. “But you do have to let go of my legs and follow me downstairs to get it.”

  Dom did, and Adrian helped him up. “Thank you.” Heat rose to Dom’s cheeks. “I feel better. I—needed that.”

  Adrian cupped the back of his neck and drew him in for a gentle kiss before speaking against his lips. “You’re welcome.” Then he let him go and gestured to the door. “Breakfast?”

  “God, yes.” Dom blew out a breath and followed Adrian downstairs. Everything was either very right in the world, or sideways entirely.

  All he knew was that he was warm here, and calm, and Adrian was fucking amazing. Maybe that was a good start to figuring out all the rest.

  * * *

  Adrian didn’t feed Dominic the French toast, but watching him eat was pleasure enough. The happy sigh, the content noises. The way he tapped his bare feet against the breakfast bar stool. So many questions flew through Adrian’s mind, and many were tinged with fear. That he would screw this—whatever this was—up. That he wasn’t the man Dominic needed.

  Though everything that had happened in the office had felt right and natural. Slipping into the role Dominic needed at that fragile moment had been pure instinct, and he’d come out the other side. Happy. Content. Joyful as he ate his breakfast and sipped his coffee.

  Adrian toyed with his bacon, moving it about in the syrup, and finally voiced the question at the forefront of his mind. “Do you want to date me, Dominic?”

  Dominic’s body stilled, and his eyes turned inward for a moment. Considering, calculating.

  God, Adrian wished he knew how that mind worked.

  Finally, Dominic nodded. “Yeah. I do. I just—don’t know what dating you entails. I mean—I haven’t actually dated anyone since college. And I kinda doubt ‘let’s study together, then fuck’ is exactly what I’m supposed to do now.”

  It was those quips that flipped Adrian’s heart around and around and made him want to haul Dominic in for kisses. The honesty, the absurdity. “Five years? You’ve been just hooking up—for five years?” He paused and laughed. “Mind you, I have no room to talk. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with casual.”

  Dominic raised an eyebrow and pointed his fork at Adrian. “So, when did you last date, then?”

  “California,” Adrian said automatically. “Nearly the same timeframe. A little over six years ago. When I moved back to New York... I needed time to settle in.”

  There was a thoughtful look in Dominic’s eyes, but he didn’t ask anything more. “And what about the whole tying up and kneeling thing?” Color touched his cheeks.

  Adrian shrugged and ate his bacon. “You tell me. Do you enjoy it?”

  A deeper blush now, and that was so fucking nice. Dominic even squirmed on the stool. “
Yeah. I do. I’ve just never...done anything like that before.”

  That was an answer Adrian didn’t quite buy. “Hard to believe you’ve never been held down and fucked. I know you’ve been on your knees and sucked a man off before.”

  Even Dominic’s neck was red now, and his mouth open. He looked down at his plate. Then up. “Uh. Okay. I’ve done that. Lots of times. But no cuffs or rope or anything like that.” His gaze turned inward again and his voice wavered. “And I’ve never wanted to kneel like I did this morning for anyone. Ever.”

  Too much emotion there. Adrian rose and rounded the bar to Dominic’s side so he could brush the locks off his forehead and plant a kiss there. “I should tell you that I was utterly honored.”

  “It’s like my life is still when I’m here with you. Like it’s mine.”

  He combed his fingers through Dominic’s unruly locks. “What’s it like when you’re not here?”

  A huff of a laugh. “I can’t even describe it. Sometimes it’s my own. Other times it’s—a roller coaster. I’m—playing a part and holding on and enjoying the ride. Then I land back here, and I’m myself.” He leaned his head against Adrian’s chest. “I know you want to know more than that.”

  He did. However, he wouldn’t demand it. Not now. Not later. “We’ve been on two dates. In that time, you’ve trusted me tremendously with your body, Dominic. And yes, I’m kinky. And I think you are, too.” He stroked Dominic’s neck. “But trust isn’t something you give all at once—different parts take time, and maybe there are things you never want to share with another.”

  Dominic exhaled and found Adrian’s hand. Held it. Kissed his fingertips.

  Oh god, the need that burned through Adrian from that one simple act. “Give me what you can, when you can. Tell me if you need me to slow down. Ask whatever questions you want.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the boss?” Bright brown eyes met his. “Tell me what to do?”

  “Yes...and no.” Adrian chuckled. “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s been easy so far.”