by S. E. Lund
"Don't worry. My photographer is very trustworthy and maybe we'll use a mask to hide your identity."
We stood looking at the painting, and I felt completely happy, as if finally, I'd found what I was really meant to do. I didn’t know if I could paint anything that would be received critically well, but I didn't think I'd ever done anything that made me happier. Not writing, not research.
Painting. Art. It was my new sense of self, my relationship with Drake making it possible.
"You look pleased," I said, taking his coat and hanging it up for him. "You have good news about Liam?"
"The best. The preliminary tests show that his transplant is taking and there's no sign of rejection, either host-graft or graft-host. In a week, if things stay the same, he'll be in the clear. They'll test him every week for the first couple of months, and then, if he's still fine, every month for a year. I can come back to Manhattan if things take a turn for the worse, but as it is, we can leave next week. I've already booked our tickets."
"I'm so happy," I said and wrapped my arms around his neck once more.
He kissed me and then pulled me into the living room. After he sat on the couch, he pulled me down onto his lap.
"I have a mission for us tonight," he said, his face taking on a dark expression. "I've spoken with the staff on the pediatric oncology ward. They're going to let me visit Liam again while Chris and Maureen are at dinner tonight. I want you to come."
"Drake," I said, doubt about his plan filling me. "Do you think that's wise? The staff were instructed to call the police if you show up again."
"I spoke with Liam's oncologist and he cleared it with staff on the ward. They agree that as his biological father and as the one who gave him the donation, I have a right to just pop in – as a doctor – and see how he's doing. I won't identify myself except to say I was the one who gave him the donation. That's all."
I inhaled deeply, uncertain if this was wise. "Maybe you should talk to my father first?"
Drake shook his head. "Don't want to include Ethan in on this. It's my decision. I've passed it by Liam's doctors. We're covered." He kissed me as if to silence my protests and then he stood up, letting me slide out of his arms to a standing position. "Now, go get dressed. We have a very narrow window of time to get there, get inside, and get out. Chris and Maureen are having dinner with her parents so they'll both be away tonight for at least an hour. One of the nurses heard their plans and let me know.
"If you really want to do this…"
"I really want to, Kate. I want you with me. He's still in isolation because his immune system is still so new but we can both go in. I want you to meet him."
I nodded and went to get dressed, despite my reluctance.
We arrived at NYP and made our way to the pediatric oncology ward, past the bright blue and yellow playroom I remembered from before and to the ward where Liam was staying. Drake stopped at the nursing station and spoke quietly to the nurse behind the desk, who smiled at him brightly and nodded, pointing down the hall, giving us instructions about isolation. Because we were technically supposed to be hospital staff, we had to follow contact precautions, wash our hands, wear surgical masks and gowns, covers over our shoes. It was the only way they'd let us in.
Drake led the way to Liam's room. He was in a single room, the door closed. Through the window, I saw that Liam was sitting up in bed playing with a toy, watching the television that was mounted to the wall. He wore a hospital gown in blue, which highlighted his blue eyes. There was no I.V. nor any oxygen and so he looked like a small frail boy, his head bald, but he was obviously much better than that first time we saw him.
Liam turned when we entered the room. "Hello," he said, watching us warily.
"Hello, Liam," Drake said and went to the side of the bed. "I'm Doctor Morgan. We met a few days ago. I've come by to see how you're doing."
"I'm good," Liam said. He turned to look at me. "Are you a nurse?"
I shook my head. "Just a colleague of Dr. Morgan's."
Liam nodded, his eyes so blue, just like Drake's. His hair had begun to grow in and it was dark, like Drake's. Just a fine fuzz.
"You know, I was the one who gave you the stem cells," Drake said, his voice low. "I just wanted to come by and see if you were doing better. Your doctors said you were almost ready to go home."
Liam made a face. "You gave me the blood cells?"
Drake nodded. "We're a match so I did what I could to help."
"Thank you." Liam smiled. He still had his baby teeth, his smile perfect. Drake extended his gloved hand and Liam took it, and my heart squeezed to see Liam's tiny hand in Drake's. Then Drake leaned closer and ran his hand over Liam's head affectionately.
"I'm so glad I was able to help."
Drake finally let go of Liam's hand and I could see the reluctance in him. Drake's face was hidden behind the mask, but his skin was flushed as if he was overcome with emotion. Despite those emotions, he kept smiling, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"What's that?" he said, pointing to the toy in Liam's hand.
"It's Bumblebee," Liam said, holding the toy up. "A transformer from the movie. Did you see it?"
Drake shook his head. "No, I never did see that one. What does it do?"
"You transform it into a car, like this," Liam said and proceeded to move the various body parts around until finally, with considerable effort, the toy appeared to be a yellow car instead of a yellow robot. "He works for Optimus Prime. He's the head autobot. They're from Cybertron."
"Wow," Drake said and took the car from Liam's tiny hands. "That's amazing." Drake fiddled with the car and then shrugged. "It's too hard for me." He handed it back to Liam, who quickly disassembled it so that once more, it was a robot.
"See?" Liam said, holding it back up. "Simple. Even I can do it. My dad taught me how."
Drake nodded and I heard him exhale. "That's cool. Your dad must be pretty smart to show you how to do that."
"He's an engineer. He makes things so this was easy for him."
Drake stood in silence for a moment and watched as Liam assembled the robot once more into a car. He held it up for us to see how fast he was able to transform the toy, a smile on his face.
Drake smiled and then glanced at the clock on the wall. "I guess we better go. I'm glad to see you're all better."
Liam nodded, his focus on the toy once more. Then, he turned back to the television and Drake turned away as well, taking my hand and pulling me out of the room behind him.
We removed our scrubs and masks in the anteroom and didn't stop by the nursing station, but Drake nodded to the nurse as we passed. He pulled me along down the hallway, past the playroom once more and down a set of stairs instead of taking the elevator. Once outside of the hospital, he stopped. It was dark now, the sky overcast, the streetlights on. Cars drove by on the street bordering the hospital, the sound of the city around us.
Drake held a hand over his eyes and struggled for a moment to get control over himself, one hand still holding mine.
"He looks really good," I said, squeezing his hand.
Drake finally looked at me, his eyes wet.
"He does," he said, forcing a smile as if to hide his emotions. "He's happy. He has parents who love him." He nodded as if reassuring himself. Then he pulled me into his arms, and we embraced. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me. He nuzzled my neck, his lips kissing the skin beneath my ear.
Then, he pulled away, out of the embrace and sighed.
"Let's go home."
We decided to stay at Drake's apartment for our last week in Manhattan so we could be alone. We had to make sure everything was packed up and ready to go from Drake's place. Earlier, before dinner, Drake made sure to re-check his suitcases and ran through a list of items he needed for teaching his class. Some of his things for his course had already been shipped off to the university, but his personal belongings, and other items he wanted to take with us, a few of his father's person
al mementos, he was shipping later.
"I'm not sending any of this," he said as he sorted through his bondage gear. "Don't want it to be found by curious housekeepers or border security. We'll have to improvise when we get there. No cuffs, no spreader bars, and no butt plugs. Just me." He grinned at me, a wicked look in his eyes.
"You're more than enough."
"I hope so. I'm a very jealous man. Don't want you getting too attached to B.O.B. or Big or anything…"
"With you, Drake," I said and wagged my eyebrows at him. "Who needs substitutes?"
He folded up one box and closed it with packing tape, writing information on the label.
"I want to ship your painting though," he said. "The one with the sheet covering my," he said and smiled. "Manhood."
"Manhood," I said and smiled back.
"The risqué one can stay here. When we come back, I want it moved to our bedroom on 8th Avenue."
Our bedroom. I liked the sound of that. Drake was starting to really think of us together as a real couple.
"You really aren't going to ship any of your toys and implements?"
"I can always buy some rope. Leather. I'm handy enough. I could probably even build you canvases for your studio."
"What studio?"
"The one we'll make sure to have in whatever house we get." He came to me and wrapped his arms around me. "I want you to paint as much as you want while we're there. Do what you want. I'll be really busy at the college and hospital so you have to do what makes you happy."
I nodded. "I'd like my own studio. But you might have to watch out. I've been known to spend the entire day in my pajamas when I get into a painting. No cleaning, no cooking, no domesticity."
"No problem. We'll get a housekeeper and a cook. When I come home from the hospital, I want you ecstatic, ready for me after a long day working on your art."
"Sounds like heaven."
A few days before we were scheduled to leave, Drake picked me up out of the blue and carried me into his office at his apartment in Chelsea.
"We'll be going away in less than a week. I think it's time to do what we've already discussed and renegotiate the agreement. I want you to tell me if anything's changed."
Then, he let me slide down his body. "I'm going to print off a copy and I want us to sit down and go over it once more. Point by point. Anything you want changed, you should say it now. We'll discuss it. Negotiate."
He sat at his desk and opened his laptop, searching through his emails for the one I sent him with the agreement. He opened the email and printed the document off. Then, he stood up and took my hand, leading me into the living room, where he sat on the couch. He pulled me down onto his lap the way I'd sat that first night at my apartment, my arms around his neck.
"Now, Ms. Bennet, I want you to tell me exactly what you want and need from me. A lot has changed since we wrote this up. We'll be leaving Manhattan, living in Nairobi. I'll be working five days a week and will be on call one weekend a month. What do you see when you imagine us together there?"
I inhaled deeply. That was a difficult question. How did I see our relationship?
"I see us as a committed couple," I said, looking into his eyes. "We spend our time together. We do things together. We cook together. We explore together. We sleep together. Of course, we have lots of sex."
He grinned at that. "Of course."
"But I've never lived with a man before," I said. "Before you, the most I've been with a man is a weekend."
"Kurt?"
I nodded. "He spent a lot of time at my place. But we only dated for a few months, so… You've been married."
"I have. But I was bad at it. I don’t think I knew how to be a proper husband."
I didn't know what to say to that. I wasn't sure if I wanted a husband at that point although I knew my father was angling to marry Drake and me off. All I knew was that I wanted to be with Drake as much as possible.
"I don't know how to be a proper submissive."
"You're learning," he said. "You've got a strong will. I get the sense that as much as submission excites you, it also still scares you. You judge yourself too strongly for wanting it but being happy is more important than being politically correct."
He was right. There was still this tiny voice in the back of my head that scolded me for wanting a D/s relationship.
"What will you tell people that we meet when we're there? Your colleagues? Your boss?"
"I'll introduce you as my partner. I think that's the going word for people who are committed to each other but who aren't married."
"Partner," I said, repeating it to see how it felt on my lips. "Sounds like a business relationship. Or sporting."
"It's not perfect, but lover is too blatant. Soulmate sounds too much like Keats."
I laughed and shook my head. "Your colleagues would think you'd gone bonkers if you said I was your soulmate."
"That they would." Drake leaned in closer and kissed me, his kiss soft, his lips still curved in a smile. Then, he threaded his fingers in my hair and kissed me more deeply, the smile fading, his lips parting mine, tongue finding mine. The touch of his tongue on mine always made my heart race, my body warm. I wanted him right then and there.
He broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against mine.
"So," he said. "What in this agreement do you want to change? Anything?"
"Nothing," I said. "I want to be with you. I want you to teach me about submission. I want to go where you take me."
He kissed me again. "I want to take you where you need to go," he said. "But I think I want to clarify that we are a collared couple. You’re mine, and our bond is as important as an engagement. Some lifestylers see it like a marriage. It's as close as I've come to being in a committed relationship outside of marriage. That means we're completely and totally honest and open with each other. We're completely exclusive with each other. How does that sound?"
I nodded and slid my hand behind his head, stroking his skin. "That sounds perfect."
He nodded, his gaze moving over my face. "I'll revise it and then I think we should sign it again. Make it official. We're Dominant and submissive in the bedroom. We're equals outside of it."
"Are we always going to be doing D/s when it comes to sex? No vanilla?"
He kissed me. "Let's play it by ear. As long as you’re honest with me about how you feel, I should be in tune with our needs. Will you let me make the decisions about that? Do you trust me to know what you need?"
"Yes," I said.
"Kate, I don't want anyone but you."
I smiled and cupped his face with my hand. "I don't want anyone but you."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
On the day we departed, we went to my father's for breakfast and then they took us to JFK to see us off. After checking our bags and getting our tickets, the moment arrived for us to part. I became all choked up despite my excitement about our trip. I'd be gone for six months. A lot would happen during that time, especially my father's campaign for the House seat. I'd miss him, and especially miss our new relationship.
I embraced Elaine first, and kissed her on the cheek, promising to send her emails with photographs. Then I turned to my father, while Drake was saying goodbye to Elaine.
He pulled me into an embrace, squeezing me tight, his bulldog face flushed with emotion.
"I'll miss you, Katie," he said, in his gravelly voice. "But I'm so happy to see you going with Drake. I know it will be a great experience."
"Thanks, Daddy," I said, my eyes filling with tears. "I'll miss you. These past few months have been so…" I struggled for words. "So wonderful. I feel like I know you better than ever before."
"You're all grown up, Katherine. I'm so proud of you. Take a lot of pictures. Skype me as often as you like."
"I will."
He kissed me on the cheek and turned away, and I could see tears in his eyes. Drake took my hand and pulled me away.
Our flight landed in Naples, Italy where we plan
ned to stay for a few days at a resort Drake liked before traveling on to Kenya. After an overnight stay in a hotel in Naples, Drake rented a car and we drove down the narrow road bordering the Mediterranean to the tiny resort village of Ravello. Drake wanted to show me the location, famous for being the inspiration for Wagner's opera Parsifal.
Wagner had called Ravello a slice of heaven. I'd never been to the Amalfi coast and since it was on my bucket list, I was only too pleased to go. We'd decompress for a couple of days and then continue on to Nairobi, where Drake would take up a position as a visiting neurosurgeon with the hospital and then teach his class. On our way back to Manhattan, once Drake's term was up, we'd stopover in Paris, so I could see it once more. I'd barely spent time there when on a trip in high school, the stay so short I didn’t feel like I'd seen the real city – just the tourist traps.
Our hotel in Ravello was amazing, the hotel itself picturesque, neoclassical with white stone walls and columns. Set on the side of a rocky cliff, each room had a small balcony that looked out onto the Mediterranean.
The first day, after we slept almost through the morning, we spent the day walking the narrow streets and enjoying the village's ambience. Then, we had a quiet dinner alone – fresh fish, some salad and some nice white wine ordered in through room service. I was starting to unwind finally, the stress and worry of the past two months seeping out of me with each breath of fresh salt air from the Mediterranean.
We sat on the couch once we were done with our meal and watched the sunset through the open doors of the balcony, glasses of wine in hand.
"How are you tonight?" He rubbed my back. "Still a bit tired?"
"A bit," I said. "Nothing I can't manage."
He pulled me closer, so that I sat on his lap like that first night in my old apartment.
"You've made me very happy, Kate."
"I'm happy that you're happy."
"I thought for a terrible few hours that day that I'd lost you," he said, tilting my chin up, his gaze on me. "I know it was crazy, but in the back of my mind was this fear that I'd helped you overcome your fear of kink and then, you'd go back to Kurt, who was more your age."
