Submissive Angel: A BDSM Romance Novella

by Joey W. Hill

  He pulled a stool over by the tub and leaned in, his arm around Ange’s shoulders. He brushed his lips across his forehead, held there, his eyes squeezing closed for a brief, powerful moment. Knowing he was holding Ange, and everything was okay, after hours of imagining just the opposite, was going to require quite a few of these tactile reality checks. “Be easy now,” he said, to both of them. “You’re home.”

  The water rippled as Ange put out a hand, gripped Robert’s shirt collar, dampening it. His fingers brushed Robert’s throat, the curls of hair below on his chest. “Would you…can you be in here with me?”

  “You haven’t earned that. Gave me a scare tonight. But yeah, I will.” Robert backed off enough to strip off his clothes. Ange rested his head against the high double slipper lip of the tub, his eyes closed. He’d dropped his hands limply against his thighs under the drifting bubbles. Robert nudged him enough to get behind him, settle Ange against his chest, his bent knees on either side of the kid.

  Any further thoughts of giving Ange hell went away as a deep sigh deflated his sub. Ange melted against Robert. He didn’t seem to have any energy left for conversation, so Robert lay there with him, holding him, both of them dozing off and on.

  He used his foot to turn the tap on a couple times, add more hot water and let out some of the lukewarm. They were turning into prunes, but it was okay. Robert didn’t want to move from the cocoon of heat and steam until Ange gave signs that he was ready to do so.

  Then, unexpectedly, Ange spoke. Robert didn’t know if he’d deduced that Robert had figured out the missing pieces, or Ange was so deep in his head it didn’t matter. The picture his slow, painful words created was stark. Desolate.

  “I was holding her in my arms, looking into her eyes, and she just went away. But she was holding onto me tight, so desperate. Like maybe, if she held on, she wouldn’t go away. But she did.”

  Robert put his hand over Ange’s forehead, pressed his lips to his temple. A reminder that he was here, in the present, even as he kept talking about the past.

  “I didn’t even know I was shot,” Ange said. “I tried to get up, holding her, and I couldn’t. I’d lifted her, so many times, so easily, and then, I couldn’t. Fell on my ass like a baby leaning to walk, who isn’t sure what balance is.”

  Ange paused. “Then I thought I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath as she died. It all happened in seconds, they told me. But…it was like when I leaped in the air, and it seemed like time stopped, like I could stop time, for myself and my audience, when I danced. To find that’s the way death works, too… Everything after that, everything reminded me of it, and it drove me mad.”

  “Helena said you left. She didn’t know where you’d gone.”

  “I remember going back to my apartment,” Ange said, after another long pause. “But I couldn’t stay there. Leo and I…we were roommates. Best friends.” His voice got thick, choked, and Robert kissed away the tear that slid along Ange’s cheekbone. “I paid the last month’s rent, left the check on the table for his parents, and a note under the landlord’s door, took a bag of stuff. I don’t know what. I lost it along the way. I couldn’t stay anywhere. I fled my life, any sense of stopping.”

  He curled his hand around Robert’s wrist, ran a fingertip over it, back and forth. “I ended up here, and I was able to fix that toy. I fixed something. And I looked into your eyes and saw pain and sadness become something else, when you looked at me, and thought…I might help fix him, too. And then I didn’t need to think about anything else.”

  Robert closed his eyes. He didn’t know how to hold Ange any tighter without cutting off his air, but he could keep kissing his cheek, his jaw, tilting it away with a hand on his chin, drop more kisses on his throat, his shoulder. Ange held onto him, shaking, smaller, quieter sobs working their way through him.

  “I’m here,” Robert kept repeating between kisses, caresses. No, he wasn’t going to bust Ange’s balls too much tonight about anything, but Ange had given him the opening to lay something else down. Because they had to do with that help and safety which had called Ange back to him.

  “Ange, I love you,” he said, his voice rough. “You hear me?”

  Ange nodded, slowly. His gaze was on the water, but his hand was back to making those circles on Robert’s hand, clasped over his chest. Robert put his mouth to Ange’s throat, registered the thud of his pulse through it. “Though I came out of my military service okay, I saw what violence can do, on both sides. It tears into the soul the way it tears into the flesh. Once you see the horror of what we can do to one another, it becomes a truth that never leaves you. And that truth, if you can’t figure out how to make sense of it, can become an infected wound that never heals.”

  Ange quivered. Robert could almost feel the memories rising up to claw at him, but he tightened his grip on Ange once more, the kind of grip that said his Master was demanding he stay fully in the present. When Ange stilled, steadied, Robert knew his soul had heard that message, too.

  “Because I love you, and I’m your Master, I’m putting it to you plain. This shit that happened tonight is not going to happen again. Ever. You need help. More help than I can give, but I know where to take you to get it. No more running from this. You could have ended up dead tonight, and that would have ended me. You understand that?”

  When Ange ducked his head, his shoulders shaking anew, Robert toughened his heart, took him by the jaw and throat and pulled his head back to his shoulder to pin him with a hard gaze. “I want to hear it. And you know exactly how I expect to hear it.”

  Ange’s gaze was filled with so much troubled emotion, but Robert showed him in his own answering expression that he was the port. Ange just had to be willing to bring himself into it. “Yes, sir,” Ange managed. “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. This isn’t about that. What’d you say to me earlier? That me needing you, that’s the best gift I can give you. Well, there are things that go along with being needed. You taking care of yourself, resolving the things that might interfere with you being there for me, the way I intend to be there for you. Got it?”

  He’d bet that taking the hard line, bringing down that structure and strict discipline Ange craved, might penetrate. He won that bet. The maelstrom of emotions died back, leaving room for Ange to digest the words, see how much Robert meant them. It helped hold Ange in one fixed spot, where he could examine things a little better, not be swept away by those emotions. When Ange at last nodded again, a slow movement that ended with him resting his forehead against the side of Robert’s face, he cupped his hand over Ange’s nape, massaging that favorite spot for both of them.

  “I’ll be with you, every step of the way. You won’t do it alone. Soon as we get some sleep and it’s a reasonable hour, I’m going to call a friend of mine in VA counseling. I’ll see who in the civilian world is a good fit for what you’re handling. Even if they can’t get rolling with you before Christmas, we’re putting things in motion. All right?”

  Ange heard everything his Master said to him. Always before, words like that had felt like weights piling upon him, crushing him, triggering a need to dodge, avoid, escape.

  But something important had changed over the past few months. Such that, earlier tonight, when he’d bolted and he’d lost time and space, some part of himself had known where to go. Where help and home could be found.

  Words could also be a blanket, surrounding, covering and warming him. In the end, Ange wrapped them around him, pulled them tight, the way he did Robert’s arms now, his fingers holding onto his Master, securing and accepting the binding.

  “Yes, sir.”

  They woke in Robert’s bed mid-morning. As they roused themselves enough to get up, shower, work their way to the kitchen to find some breakfast, Ange didn’t say much. His Master didn’t push. When Ange went into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror, he was fragile-looking and hollow-eyed, explaining the kid gloves. H
e felt more like himself, though.

  Before going to sleep, Robert had texted Helena to say he’d found Ange. So when Ange padded into the kitchen and saw Robert checking the phone, Robert laid it down on the counter and showed him her response. She’d expressed relief and a strong desire to see him before she headed back to New York.

  “Can we go see her today?” he asked Robert.

  His Master raised a surprised brow, giving him an assessing look. “You up for it?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to see her. At the theater.” Where there was a stage. That was important, because it was the only way he could show her…what she would need to see.

  Robert frowned. “I don’t want to set off the wrong things for you again.”

  He wanted to say it wouldn’t, but Ange made himself consider it before he ventured a truthful response. “I think…it will be okay. It’ll be empty, just her there, not the company and everyone getting ready for the performance. That makes the biggest difference. I really want to meet her there, if that’s okay with you. But…” He took a breath. “Can you go with me?”

  “After last night, you really think I won’t be sticking to your ass like glue for the next century?”

  “Only if you’re establishing enough distance to beat it black and blue.”

  “Smart kid. Okay.” Robert shot him a look but texted her. As he did, he added, “I called my VA buddy. He put me in touch with a trauma counselor, Dr. Friar. I spoke to him about an hour ago. He’s traveling for the holidays, but he’s already set you up as his first appointment two days after Christmas. Okay?”

  Robert followed that up with another no-nonsense Master look. While Ange’s habitual aversion to the subject wanted to kick in, last night had been a wake-up call he couldn’t ignore. Robert had said it straight out, in a way Ange couldn’t deny.

  There are things that go along with being needed.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  Robert dipped his head toward the pantry. “Think you’ve earned a Pop-Tart.”

  His smile was warm, and helped settle Ange. He was pulling the Pop-Tart out of the toaster when the phone buzzed and Robert glanced at it. “Ms. Markham says she’ll be at the theater in an hour and a half. That gives us time to finish breakfast, head that way.”

  Ange looked down at the frosted Pop Tart, something simple, innocent, cheerful. Then back up at his Master’s dark gaze. “I’m sorry. It was a really nice Christmas gift. I feel bad that I messed it up that way.”

  Robert left his bowl of cereal and came to him, putting his hand over Ange’s tense one. He cupped Ange’s face with the other, conveying the sincerity of his words through his firm touch. “You’ve got nothing to feel bad about. I mean that. I learned things about you I didn’t know, and ways that I can love and care for you even better. Help you heal from things that hurt you. That matters more to me.”

  Ange gazed at him. If he told Robert he’d become his Christmas miracle, his forthright Master would laugh, but the truth was the truth, even if unspoken. So Ange settled for a simple nod and two words that came straight from his soul.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  This time, when Helena saw him, Ange moved into her arms, wrapped his own around her, and held her tight. A little sigh left her and her fingers tangled in his hair. She tugged it the way she’d used to do, though more forcefully then, when she was correcting something during practice. It brought back so much, and had him holding her even longer.

  Memories of Clarissa and Leo swamped him. He might have lost himself in that quagmire, but he’d promised Robert he’d be okay. He called to mind everything they’d talked about in the tub, focusing on details, holding himself in the present. With Robert’s hand rubbing his back gently, it worked. He was okay. He could do this.

  Helena snuffled a sob against his shoulder. Then she shrugged her shoulders irritably at herself and pushed at him. She gave Ange a wet-eyed but slightly amused look, covering him from head to toe.

  “You got fat, I see.”

  He found a weak chuckle. “By our standards, yeah. And I just learned what cake tastes like. There’s no going back.”

  “It’s the devil for sure. And cookies are its minions.” She smiled. “You have always been a beautiful boy, but love has made you a breathtaking man. But if you tell anyone I said something so ridiculously romantic, I’ll beat you with my cane.”

  He swept a pointed look around them. They were standing in the open space between the front row of seats, the stage at his back. “I was shocked to see you without it. I thought it was surgically attached to your palm.”

  She dipped her head toward the stage. “It’s up there, behind the curtain. I was glad you wanted to meet here. One of my last appointments before I catch my plane is with a children’s group. Aspiring dancers from a prominent dance studio here. They are due in a few moments.” She quirked a smooth brow, her lips pressing together. “Mr. Bauer says you still dance. Would you be willing to show them the possibilities with a small demonstration?”

  He’d fully intended to dance for her, since it was the best way he could express to her the things that were far too difficult for him to say. However, being asked directly to do so, and in front of a group, sparked instant tension. His Master stepped to his side, putting a hand on his hip. Ange was certain Robert was about to issue a decisive though polite hell no on his behalf.

  But Helena was equally trained, if for different reasons, in detecting changes in body language. She lifted both hands, chagrin crossing her face. “Forgive me, Ange. It was a selfish desire, wanting to see you dance again.”

  She smiled, a painful gesture. “My fondest memories of watching you dance weren’t when you were in front of an audience; did you know that? It was after practice. My office door would be open, so I’d see you come back out onto the studio floor and dance the steps again, or whatever combination you wished. No music other than what was in your head.”

  “Like you do in the store,” Robert noted.

  Ange glanced at him, and Robert gave him a bracingly warm look. That look reminded Ange of how he’d danced for him in the snow, ribbons trailing his wrists and ankles.

  “I had the privilege of being your silent audience,” Helena said softly.

  Before Ange could respond, they heard the backstage door open, the sound echoing across the stage and through the silent theater. Youthful chatter, tones charged with barely suppressed excitement, said the class had arrived.

  Helena sent Ange an amused look. He knew she was remembering the times her company had hosted similar visits up in New York, and how he and others of the troupe had helped her simultaneously terrify and thrill the students with the tough reality of pursuing a dance career.

  For him, the toughness had only fed his passion for it. Until that day.

  Though shadows cloaked his heart at the thought, Ange turned to see the couple dozen kids of varying ages emerge onto the stage. They were shepherded by two instructors, who were hushing them to keep the noise to a decorous level.

  When the dancers saw Helena, the admonition was no longer necessary. As she’d said, these were serious students. They knew just how valuable even a few minutes of personal mentoring from a successful dancer, director or choreographer was. Helena was all three.

  At the sight of the students, Ange’s tension about dancing dissipated. He liked working with kids. When they came into the store, he often took over with them while their adults shopped. He kept a box of cheap toys to entertain the littler ones, while the interested adolescents and teenagers received a detailed tour. Ange showed them the more complex operations of toys that had to be handled with care.

  “If you wish to stay, we can go have coffee afterward,” Helena said. “There’s a place within walking distance, and I’ll have about an hour before I need to get to the airport.”

  While regret was in her dark gaze because of his reaction to dancing for her, she wasn’t letting go of the subject itself. Her gaze swept him again, a profession
al appraisal. “We can talk to you about your plans, if you wish.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He looked at Robert a weighted moment before he brought his gaze back to Helena. “I actually don’t have a problem giving them a short demo. Should I do what we did when we had similar groups in New York?”

  Robert’s hand tightened on his hip, but he kept his eyes on Helena an extra beat. The way she brightened like a light bulb shot some pain through him, but it was pain for the past. Not the present. He covered Robert’s hand with his own as Helena responded.

  “Whatever is in your head is fine. A mix of classical and contemporary styles?”

  As he considered all the possibilities, he managed a smile. He knew it held so many memories, so many emotions. Robert turned him in his direction. “Look at me,” he said.

  Ange did, but he met Robert’s gaze, clear-eyed. “I can do this, Master,” he said. “With your permission.”

  “Promise me this won’t take you to a bad place in your head,” Robert said, his brow fierce in that way that could make Ange’s heart skip an extra beat.

  “I promise. It won’t.” Ange looked over his shoulder toward the stage. Since he was cognizant of Robert and Helena’s concerns for him, he absorbed the students’ enthusiasm, let it show in his expression, his additional response. “This is as different from that day…as I can imagine.”

  Helena made a small noise, and he felt her hand on him. He gripped it, even as he held his Master’s clasp.

  “All right, then,” Robert said, but he shot him that look that added a toe curl to Ange’s reaction, a little weakening in the knees. “If you’re lying or mistaken, I really will beat your ass black and blue.”

  Ange’s answering smile had that sweet, guileless look. When he nodded to Helena and moved toward the stage, Helena hung back to toss Robert a droll look.