Firm Hand

by Nora Phoenix

  Something inside Cornell broke. He'd never had a Dom safe word out of the scene before because Cornell sucked at it. The clamp or whatever it had been was removed from his testicle, and seconds later, Rhys's hands untied his blindfold. Cornell kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see what had to be devastation in Rhys's eyes. Disappointment. Anger, maybe even.

  "Cornell, will you please look at me?" Rhys asked.

  He shook his head stubbornly. "No, I can't. Just… Leave me alone, please."

  "You know I can't do that. That's not how this works. What happened?"

  Rhys's voice was so full of hurt, of pain, that it sliced through Cornell's heart. He wanted to be honest with him more than anything, but if he did that, it would ruin any chance he had to ever play with him again. Plus, humiliation much?

  "I don't know," he said instead.

  "Oh, Cornell, please don't lie to me," Rhys said, and this time, the disappointment was clear.

  "How's this? I don't want to talk about it," Cornell said, feeling himself getting more desperate. How could he tell Rhys that despite everything he had planned and done, it still hadn't worked for him? He'd know instantly that Cornell was a failure as a sub, and that would be it.

  "Tough shit," Rhys said, and there was the first spark of anger. "You know better than that. Something went wrong, and you and I are going to talk about it, whether you want to or not."

  All Cornell wanted was to get the hell out of there, but with his aching body, even that dignity was out of the question. Finally, he opened his eyes, only to find Rhys staring at him. His eyes didn't hold the contempt or disappointment Cornell had expected, but rather sadness and a hint of anger. But there was something else there as well, something that was a little harder to pinpoint. It almost looked like...guilt?

  Of course. He inwardly sighed as the realization hit him. "This wasn't your fault," he told Rhys.

  Rather than responding, Rhys held out a hand to him to help him up. Cornell hesitated only briefly before he took it, knowing there was no way he could get up by himself, at least not gracefully. Rhys pulled him up by his good hand, while supporting his back with his other hand. As Cornell set up straight, waiting for his sense of equilibrium to return, Rhys walked over to the chair and grabbed his bathrobe.

  He handed it to Cornell. "We're gonna go upstairs, where you will get dressed, and then we’re gonna sit down in the living room, have a cup of tea, and talk about this. And whatever bullshit reasons you have or you think you have to try and get out of this, it's not gonna work."

  And all Cornell could think about as Rhys looked at him that sternly was that he'd never seen him this dominant, and it was hot as fuck. Plus, impossible to resist, as he discovered. Because a few minutes later, he found himself exactly where Rhys had told him to be, awaiting what was bound to be one of the most uncomfortable conversations of his life.

  He appreciated that Rhys gave him the time to settle down a bit. They set on the couch for a while, both sipping their tea, silence hanging in the room.

  "It wasn't your fault," Cornell said. "You did nothing wrong."

  Rhys gave him a sad smile. "It's hard for me to agree with your assessment when I don't have all the facts. So maybe you want to tell me what happened and I can decide for myself?"

  He had a point there. Rhys would never accept he wasn't to blame unless Cornell gave him a more detailed explanation. And if he didn't, Rhys would blame himself. Cornell buried his head in his hands as he realized he was now caught in a catch-22. Either he kept this from Rhys, knowing that Rhys would blame himself, even though he hadn't been at fault. Or he would have to share the humiliating details, resulting in Rhys never wanting to play with him again. So which should he choose? His own humiliation or Rhys's?

  Even before he fully formulated the question like that in his head, he already knew the answer. He would never deliberately hurt Rhys, and keeping the real reason why the scene had failed from him was exactly that.

  "It was my failure," he said, keeping his head where it was so he wouldn't have to look at Rhys "I couldn't get into it, couldn't get out of my head."

  "Do you know why? Were you physically uncomfortable? Was anything distracting you?"

  Cornell shook his head. "I've never been more comfortable in a scene in my life. Like I said, it wasn't anything you did. This was all me. I just… I couldn't let go, couldn't get past all these thoughts that were running around in my brain."

  "Maybe it wasn't intense enough for you to focus on," Rhys said. "Or maybe I should have put noise-canceling headphones on you after all, eliminating that distraction as well."

  Cornell blew out a frustrated breath. "That wasn't it. I've done sensory play before, and I've always gotten into it, even when my hearing wasn't blocked."

  "Do you think it would have helped if we’d done this upstairs, removed from the memories that room must have for you?" Rhys asked.

  Something inside Cornell snapped, and his head shot up. "Are you not listening to a word I'm saying?" he bit out. "This was not your fault. This was me. This was me failing at being a sub and being good enough for you!"

  His voice had risen to shouting level at those last words, and the room seemed to echo them around, throwing them right back into his face, adding to his humiliation. As if that wasn't enough, his eyes filled with tears. He'd cried more in the last months than he had in his whole life before, and he was sick and tired of it, sick and tired of feeling like this, of constantly hurting, inside and out.

  "I wanted to be perfect for you, so you would want to play with me again. Clearly, I failed," he said, his voice much softer now, and breaking every few words. "You were perfect. The scene was perfect. It's me, and there is nothing you can do about it. I'm…broken."

  His vision veiled by tears, he got up from the couch and walked out, unable to face the rejection he knew was coming after that emotional outburst. Alone again, was his first thought as he locked himself in his room, but then again, he and Rhys had never been together, now had they? No, he'd been alone since the day Jonas had died, and fuck if that thought wasn’t another crack in his already broken heart.

  * * *

  Rhys sat for a long time after Cornell had stormed out, if you could call it storming out, considering how slow he’d walked. He'd been stunned by the man's outburst, blown away by the level of pain both in his words and on his face. How the hell had he missed that?

  He'd been so focused on his own needs to perform, his own desire to be perfect, that he completely missed the fact that Cornell had felt the same. And no matter how much Cornell blamed himself, this was as much on Rhys. As a Dom, it was his responsibility to make sure he took care of his sub, and he had clearly failed here.

  He should've known Cornell would raise the bar too high for himself. The man had always been a perfectionist, and Rhys knew that. Why had he not considered that would apply to subbing as well? Because he'd been too damn focused on himself, that's why. He'd concentrated on preparing the scene when he should have concentrated on preparing Cornell as well. If he had taken the time to assure him that there was no pressure, things could've worked out completely different.

  With a deep sigh, he dug his phone from his pocket and called Ford. There was no way he was gonna try and muddle through this on his own. He needed advice, because as much as he realized Cornell was expecting him to walk away, there was no way in hell he was going to do that. No, he needed to fix this, and Ford needed to tell him how.

  "Rhys, my young grasshopper, this is becoming quite the habit," Ford said as a greeting, and Rhys couldn't help but smile.

  "I need your advice," he said, getting straight to the point. "Is this a good time?"

  He heard something rustle in the background, then a mumbled command he couldn't decipher. "I have a lovely sub on his knees right now, sucking me off, so as long as you don't mind me doing a little multitasking, I'm good."

  Rhys grinned. "A little lesson in humiliation?" he asked.

  Ford excelled at
that, treating subs as if they were furniture. It was a jarring experience to see him do it, knowing how caring and empathetic he usually was. But Ford had explained that some subs needed it and others craved it, and after seeing it a few times, Rhys had been fully convinced. It wasn't his thing, but there was no doubt some people got off on it, Ford included.

  "Oh, you betcha," Ford said. "I may have him on his knees all day, holding my dick in his mouth. Sounds like a perfect way to spend a day to me, right? But enough about me. Talk to me."

  "We tried our first scene this morning," Rhys said. "It didn't go well."

  He gave Ford a quick rundown of what had happened, including Cornell's explanation and emotional outburst.

  "Damn," Ford said, that sexy teasing tone he'd used previously completely gone. "That's a lot of pain he showed you there."

  "I missed it," Rhys said, feeling miserable all over again. "I had no idea he had put so much pressure on himself to be perfect. I think he believed that if he failed at this, for lack of a better word, that I would never want to play with him again."

  Ford let out a short laugh, but it was not a happy one. "The man has no idea of the depths of your feelings, does he?"

  "No. But to be fair, I had no idea he felt like a failure, so clearly, we need to work on our communication."

  "That's a given," Ford said. "But frankly, I think you need a little more than that. He's got a lot more going on than can be fixed with an open talk with his Dom."

  Rhys considered that. "You're talking about his perception of failing at being a sub."

  "I'm talking about all of it. Rhys, I know you lost your dad, but he lost his best friend, and from what I understand from your stories, they were a hell of a lot more than that. Who does he have left? Does he have a support system in place? Who is he talking to about this? You have me to talk to, and I know you talk to Raf as well, maybe not as specific about the D/s part, but you can certainly emotionally unload on him. But what about Cornell? Who can he talk to?"

  Rhys leaned back on the couch, stunned by Ford's question. "I don't think he has anyone," he said slowly. "He has a sister, and they talk on the phone every now and then, but not long, and from what I can tell, not about personal stuff. He's been with me for ten days now, and I haven't heard him talk to any friends at all."

  He shook his head as he realized this was something else he should have noticed.

  "Don't blame yourself for this," Ford said, his voice warm and understanding. "This is not a lack of care or lack of interest. This is simply a lack of experience. Plus, it's often easier for an outsider to see things like this than it is for those who are involved in the situation directly."

  "I think he needs grief counseling," Rhys said. "I have the feeling he thinks he needs to move on already from grieving, but I don't think he's ready yet. I talked to him about it back when he was still in the rehabilitation center, and he talked to a grief counselor there, but I don't think he had much of a connection with her."

  "That sounds like a good step," Ford said. "But I also think you'll need to figure out how to connect him with more people, preferably people who are in the scene as well, so they have something in common. Bluntly put, he needs new friends. No one can ever take the place of your dad in your life or in his, but both of you will need to try."

  That was actually an excellent idea, Rhys thought. He needed to find friends for Cornell, or at least a friend. Someone who could, even if it was just a little, be a sounding board for him. "How do I find friends for him?" he said out loud. "Most of my friends are my age, and I think he needs to have someone his own age as well."

  "I agree. I'd be happy to come over and talk to him sometime, but I don't think I'm what he needs, considering I'm too close to you. Maybe you could ask Brendan and Raphael over for dinner? You and Raphael are already friends, so maybe he and Brendan could connect?"

  Rhys frowned. "That kind of sounds like a double date."

  Ford chuckled. "Why does it need to have a name? It’s two couples getting together for a relaxing evening. If they don't click, no harm done."

  "We’re not a couple," Rhys said.

  Ford's reaction was to chuckle again. "You keep telling yourself that, sweet summer child. But I gotta go. I have an urge to come, and I can’t do that, because this naughty sub hasn’t earned my seed yet. I think I need to fuck this obstinate streak out of him first. I’ll talk to you later, Rhys."

  13

  Cornell had been nothing but confused in the two days that had passed since their aborted scene. He'd expected Rhys to be upset with him, angry, disappointed, even. But instead, Rhys had acted like he had before. He hadn't brought up the incident again, but he hadn't treated Cornell any differently either. Maybe this was his way of showing pity? Like, he wasn't actually going to come out and say they weren't going to play anymore, but he assumed Cornell would just understand that?

  For a fleeting moment, Cornell had considered leaving again, but he'd shoved that thought deep down. He couldn't even deal with the other people that would bring right now, not when his mind was already in such turmoil. Instead, he had followed Rhys's lead and had pretended everything was okay.

  And it had been, strangely enough. Rhys had run his daily exercises with him, even doing a quick massage on his shoulder this morning. He hadn't followed it up with a sensual one like before, but Cornell had been grateful to get his attention and care.

  And today, Rhys was having friends over for dinner, and he had explicitly invited Cornell to join them. That made zero sense to Cornell, but he decided to go along with it anyway. He felt adrift at sea, and anything that Rhys could do to give him at least a little sense of direction, he'd embrace.

  He'd swapped his usual sweatpants for something he hadn't worn in months—a pair of dark-blue slacks. They were a little loose on him, he'd realized when he'd put them on. Apparently, he'd lost weight. Still, he looked a hell of a lot more presentable in that, combined with the pink and light-blue checkered shirt that he'd barely worn.

  "It's good to see you in clothes like that," Rhys commented when Cornell walked into the living room. "How does it feel?"

  "It feels good," Cornell admitted. "I've gotten used to wearing the sweat pants and everything, but I have to admit, I feel different when I wear this. Maybe a classic case of clothes make the man and all that?"

  Rhys smiled. "Well, it's nice to see you like this."

  "I wouldn't welcome guests dressed in that ratty outfit I've been wearing for months now," Cornell said, almost shocked Rhys would even consider that. Then he realized it had been exactly what Rhys had watched him wear the whole time he’d been staying here, and he blushed a little. Should he have made more of an effort for him? That was a weird consideration for sure.

  The doorbell rang, and Rhys got up to answer it. Cornell was strangely nervous now, his hands even growing a little sweaty, though he had no earthly idea why. Was it because these were friends of Rhys and he wanted to make a good impression? Or rather, he wanted not to embarrass Rhys. How was that for setting a standard?

  The couple was not what he had expected at all. The first to walk in was a slim guy who looked familiar. He was practically bouncing with energy, his brown curls dancing on his head as he hurried over to Cornell to shake his hand.

  "It's so good to see you again," the guy said, and as soon as he heard his voice, Cornell remembered. This was Raf, who had been Rhys's best friend since high school. He’d met him a few times when Rhys had still been a teen, but it had been a while since he’d seen him.

  "Raphael," Cornell said warmly, then added, "though if I remember correctly, you prefer to be called Raf, no?"

  He was rewarded with a happy smile. "Right. The only one who calls me Raphael is my Daddy when he's upset with me," Raf said, beaming an excited look at the muscular bear of a man behind him.

  Ah, Cornell thought, that type of Daddy. He extended his hand to the man, who had to be close to him in age, judging by the silver that was popping up at his
temples. "Cornell," he introduced himself. "Very happy to meet you."

  The funny thing was that he really was looking forward to this evening, though he couldn't explain why. He'd always liked Raf, so maybe that was it. He'd been a happy kid, bouncy, full of energy, and a little mischievous. But he had the biggest heart you could ever find, and he and Rhys had been joined at the hip.

  "Brendan. Thanks so much for having us over," Raf's Daddy said. For a second, Cornell wondered why the man would thank him when it was Rhys's house he was invited to, but then he mentally shrugged. It was a polite expression, nothing more.

  They settled in the living room, and Rhys said, "Can I get you guys some drinks to start with?"

  Raf immediately looked at Brendan. "Can I please have a glass of wine, Daddy?"

  Cornell admired him for being so secure and confident in his relationship both with his Daddy and with Rhys that he trusted to be himself like that.

  His Daddy's answer was swift. "Absolutely not. You remember what happened the last time you had alcohol?"

  Raf’s cute mouth pulled together into a pout. "Please, Daddy?"

  Brendan's eyebrows drew together. "I said no, baby boy. Now stop whining, or you lose your bath privileges."

  The look Raf sent Rhys told Cornell this was not something to joke about, and he wasn't surprised when Raf said, "Apple juice, please."

  And as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Rhys asked, "Do you want a regular glass or a sippy cup?"

  "The sippy cup, please, and thank you," Raf said, and his happy smile melted Cornell's heart a little.

  Rhys took the rest of the drink orders, and when he had disappeared to the kitchen to fill them, Raf looked at Cornell. "Did Rhys tell you anything about me? About the relationship I have?"

  If there had ever been a time where Cornell was grateful for his experience and exposure to all kinds of kinks, it was now. "No, because he takes confidentiality seriously, but I kind of got the gist of it."