Power Bottom Page 3

  "Yes, Sir."

  Luke

  Later that night, my ass was sore and red as I laid next to Adam in our dark bedroom upstairs. I felt completely spent, exhausted from the exploration of our fantasies.

  He made me come three times.

  Adam had one of his thick arms draped over my body, being the big spoon.

  Just when I thought he was asleep, he nuzzled his bristly beard into the back of my neck and said, “You know I love you more than anything in the world, right, Luke?”

  Warm and fuzzies fluffed in my stomach. “I love you too, Adam. I didn’t think love would be like… like this.”

  “What did you think it would be like?” he asked.

  That gave me pause, and my mind drifted to my abusive ex, Kirk. The one who used BDSM as an excuse to bully me in the bedroom. To him, aftercare like what Adam was giving me right now was unheard of.

  Lately, I’d been noticing Adam asking questions like this: Questions that tried to unscrew the lid of the jar I kept all of my deepest, darkest insecurities and secrets inside.

  It made me nervous. Had my anxiety shaken us loose? Was Adam trying to dive into my soul to find out exactly how fucked up I was?

  That was one of the reasons I wanted to get a therapist. I knew it wasn’t healthy to withhold these things from Adam, but on the other hand, I knew it was wrong to use trauma as a glue to hold two people together.

  That’s how you ended up in a toxic relationship.

  “I thought it would be… never mind,” I said.

  “Oh, come on,” he said with a gentle squeeze of his arm. “You can’t just start something like that and then take it away.”

  “Wow, look at you being all demanding,” I teased, evading his question.

  “Well, you’re supposed to be the bossy one,” he chuckled.

  I smiled at the nickname he’d given me, Bossy Bottom. It was something sacred and special between us, a nickname that tied us together and represented everything we shared. He was the scary, burly Dom. I was his sassy twink bottom boy.

  I bossed him around… occasionally. And for some unknown reason, it turned him on.

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you avoided my question,” Adam said.

  Dammit, I thought to myself.

  “You can tell me anything,” Adam urged, squeezing me securely under the blankets.

  “You don’t tell me everything,” I argued.

  Regret plunged through my soul as I felt him recoil the tiniest bit.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I admitted. “I know your job is super-secret and all that… and you don’t want it to bleed into your life with me. But I feel like those parts of your life that you enjoy most are in the dark.”

  He was silent for a few seconds, and I wished I could read his mind.

  “Being with you… spending time with you, it’s like an oasis,” Adam said slowly. “When I’m out in the field, it’s like everything in me that’s programmed to protect, to be on high alert, to channel stress into action, is on full blast. All the time.”

  I was quiet, listening carefully. I’d never heard Adam talk about his job in this way before.

  “And I don’t want to pollute our oasis with any of the stress of the day.”

  “Sorry, I know,” I admitted, feeling guilty again. “It’s just that I want to know everything about you.”

  “You know everything important about me,” he assured me with a whisper. “Everything important about me… is you.”

  “That doesn’t count,” I said stubbornly, rolling away from him.

  He looked surprised, the beam of moonlight from the window falling across his face.

  I turned to face him. “Our relationship isn’t just about you spoiling me. I can’t say I don’t enjoy it, but I want to help you, too. You don’t always have to be the hero for me. Let me be the hero for you once in a while.”

  I could see a hardness in his eyes even here in the darkness. He was resistant to opening up all the way; he wanted to be the one to carry the entire load.

  Reaching out, I stroked his hair away from his eyes.

  He blinked slowly, a sign of trust.

  “Vulnerability is not the same as weakness. Vulnerability means you’re strong,” I promised.

  And when I thought about it, the times when Adam was the most beautiful to me was when he was vulnerable. Though he tried to hide that part of himself, he did his best to seem invincible.

  “I’m plenty vulnerable. With you,” Adam amended quickly.

  I sighed slowly through my nose. “You don’t tell me what’s bothering you. I know you’re out there on the streets every day risking your life, and that’s more noble than anything I’ve ever done—”

  “Don’t compare in that way,” Adam said in his commanding tone.

  I stopped stroking his hair for a few seconds, feeling a thrill run through me that I was in trouble.

  “Sorry… I’m just saying that you shouldn’t use yourself as a comparison. I see you as this perfect person and—”

  “Adam, I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot,” I assured him, scrunching my brow. “I can barely hold it together. I keep getting these anxiety attacks. My fear follows me around like a swarm of bats—”

  “I wish you could see you… the way I see you,” he said, his eyes filled with a deep sadness as he looked at me.

  I felt hot tears bead in the corners of my eyes as he flashed a weak smile.

  “Likewise. You’re my hero. Every single day, I can’t believe how lucky I am— I don’t deserve you—”

  “Yes, you do, Luke,” Adam said, pulling me closer to his body. “Don’t let any doubts crawl into that beautiful mind of yours. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s that.”

  Suddenly I could feel the tears running down my face, following the contours of my nose as they tried desperately to reach the pillow.

  “I wish I could… I just feel like I’m not connecting as much as I could with you,” I revealed, feeling the fear of the revelation twist in my gut.

  This fear ate at the back of my mind like a virus ever since we moved to New York. I didn’t know what this uneasiness was all about, but it was an alert that something between us had changed. Nothing was wrong on the surface, but I sensed a fissure deep underground in our foundation.

  Adam smiled sadly, and I felt like all of my fears were being realized. He was going to break up with me — he was going to leave me all alone. And then without him, what would I do? I had nothing. I’d be alone in this big, scary city and have to figure out how to make things work by myself.

  Just when the fluttering sensation started in my gut, Adam saved me again. “Babe, that’s a normal thing to feel. I’m not telling you everything about my job, but you don’t have to know that stuff— you don’t want to know that. I see people get murdered; I have to investigate crime scenes, I have to question the scum of the earth — people that commit crimes, that steal, that rape.”

  I felt my heart clench with fear. Did Adam have to go through stuff like that every day?

  “I want to shield you from all of that, and if I’m honest, I want a little safe space away from it as well.”

  “But what you do is a huge part of who you are,” I pressed. “I want to know the details of your day.”

  Adam was quiet, and I could practically hear the argument forming in his head. Hell, I was preparing mine so it would be ready to go, but then he surprised me with a compromise.

  “Look. What I’m hearing is that you want to know more about my day so you can feel closer to me. The issue is, I don’t want to have to talk about my day again. Nor do I want to expose you to the crazy shit I have to deal with.”

  I was utterly taken aback by his reasoning and felt my prepared counterargument crumble.

  “We both want the same thing. We want to be closer,” Adam stated, his dark eyes gleaming intelligently in the moonlight. “I feel like there’s distance between us too, and I’m highly invested i
n closing that distance. So, how about I come up with an idea to resolve this, and then you come up with an idea. Then together we’ll choose what sounds like the best option. Sound good?”

  My mouth dropped open. I wasn’t used to this kind of thing— at all. I’d been preparing myself for a fight. Without an argument, I felt my ammo drop right out of me.

  All I could do was nod.

  “Good. Okay, here’s my idea,” Adam said with a smile shifting the shape of his beard. “What if… you come for a ride-along with me once a month, on a day when I’m doing something like traffic patrol?”

  “Hmm,” I said, picturing myself sitting next to a sexy-as-fuck Adam in his cop uniform. “I like the sound of that… but I’m already pressed for time with Parsons. I’m worried that the whole time, I’ll be thinking about all of the work I could be doing for my classes.”

  He shrugged, and the thick comforter shifted on top of us. “Bring your drawing pad with you.”

  “I guess I could do that…” I said. “But I know myself well enough to know for sure that I wouldn’t get any work done. I would be too… distracted by you.”

  “Fair enough,” he admitted. “Okay, now you come up with an idea.”

  I thought for a long time. This was hard work — this trying to figure out scenarios to solve a problem instead of pointing out the reasons why something wasn’t working. It was almost like I was willing the cogs in my head to turn a different direction.

  “What if… you send me selfies of you doing cop stuff once in a while?”

  “I could do that for you,” he grumbled. “But, you know I hate selfies.”

  “Ugh, I don’t know why. You’re so hot in your uniform… and out of it.”

  He did his best to look grumpy, but I knew he was flattered.

  “It isn’t so hard… it’s like when I send you pictures of my dresses and designs.”

  “I love getting those,” he said.

  “Right. So I would love getting pictures of you.”

  He brightened, but then his smile faltered. “The thing is, I only look at my personal phone when I’m at the station. When I’m in the field, I can only bring my work phone.

  “Hm, that is a problem…” I said.

  I thought for a while, trying to come up with something else. “Wait a minute; it’s your turn now.”

  He furrowed his brow, then pulled me close to kiss me on the forehead. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong here, but the problem is that you don’t feel close enough with me and my work,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “So how about I go half time?” he suggested.

  “Adam, what? No, you love your job!”

  “I do, but I love you more. Plus, it’s not like we need the money.”

  I thanked my lucky stars that somehow, Adam had a sizable inheritance. Under the constraints of money, everything would’ve been much harder. I’d had my suspicions from time to time, wondering if our relationship would work out under any other circumstances… but that was a dangerous mental path to tread. I knew where the end of that tunnel led, and it was right into the den of the anxiety monster.

  “If you go half-time, what would you do with your time instead?” I asked gently.

  “I don’t know— whatever I want, I guess.”

  “But you’re an adrenaline junkie, wouldn’t you get bored?” I asked, my mind whipping up many different flavors of how this situation could go wrong.

  “Probably. But I’d entertain myself. You wouldn’t need to worry about it — I’ve been trying to figure out how to give you a bigger chunk of my life anyway. If I don’t get in front of it, work tends to eat my life.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, the worry poking in at the edges of my voice.

  The last thing I wanted was for Adam to stop doing what he loved because of me. I pictured him staying at home half the time, slowly resenting me.

  Even now, I could make out the shadow of a tightness to his shoulders.

  “Don’t do that… I’ll make do.”

  “No Luke, this is important—”

  “I don’t want to argue anymore,” I said, turning over.

  “We’re not arguing,” Adam said calmly. “You’re shutting down on me, Luke. Come on; we’re not done here. I don’t want you to have to worry about me—”

  “Well then why don’t you get another job then?!” I snapped.

  There was silence in the space my booming voice was, and I immediately felt like a terrible person.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I said softly.

  “You’ve never yelled before,” Adam observed, looking at me warily like I was a wild animal that might attack him at any moment.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” I said. Though as the words left my mouth, I could feel that they were a lie. “Can we just… talk about this in the morning?”

  “Of course,” Adam said, wrapping one of his massive forearms around me.

  I settled next to his body, the line of me fitting perfectly against the line of him like we were puzzle pieces that were finally reunited.

  “Thank you,” I said with a soft sigh.

  “For what?” He asked softly next to me.

  “For being here. For working with me. I know I’m fucked up, and my conflict resolution skills aren’t the best… how did you lean that taking-turns-with-a-solution thing, anyway?”

  He sighed and said, “My job.”

  But the way the word came out of his mouth now was different. It was like he was admitting to something.

  Like it was something he had to hide.

  Typically when we woke up on a workday, we followed a cheerful morning routine: One of us would make breakfast for the other — we’d alternate. Then we’d sit at the table as the brilliantly warm, morning light shimmered in beams and talk. The conversation never ran out; there was always more to discuss. Then we’d kiss and hug, and Adam would be out the door to catch the subway to the police station.

  After he’d leave, I’d usually find a lunch for me that he sneakily prepared and put in the fridge, always with some kind of here-warming note taped to it.

  Following this routine every day was like putting up a shield against all of the things that could go wrong when we went our separate ways. With Adam’s love surrounding me like a barrier, the city couldn’t get to me.

  But this morning, things were different. That fissure between us yesterday had somehow opened up even more over the night, yawning wide so that the cold wind of fear could rush in.

  We sat across from each other at the breakfast table, and the morning light seemed cold. Though Adam was sitting right across from me, he was quiet and wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Are you mad at me?” I asked, dipping my spoon into my blueberry oatmeal.

  “Absolutely not,” he said stoically. “I’m just thinking about how to solve the problem we discussed last night.”

  “I need a therapist,” I said.

  Adam’s expression softened, and he pushed a yellow notepad across the table to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  He took another spoonful of the oatmeal, and after he finished chewing, he said, “It’s a list of therapists that might be a good fit for you. I made it before you woke up.”

  My heart swelled with appreciation for my partner. This man… this beautiful man who was sitting across from me, who listened to every little thing I said, who showed he cared about me in all the ways I needed.

  I peered at the list, seeing Adam’s tiny black inky marks scrawled across the page. A few names were listed.

  “I did some research on them too. Made a spreadsheet,” Adam said, a penny of pride shining in his voice.

  “You’re such a details man,” I said, my voice thick with admiration. “Thank you so much -- you know I’d never do something like this.”

  “I know.”

  “…what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Adam looked surprised at himself, as if he could
n’t believe he’d let that slip. “Nothing, just that I want to be there for you to do things that you hate. I know you hate details.”

  I was already feeling bad about myself this morning, and Adam’s subtle, accidental dig at me, tied itself to my mood like an anchor.

  “Well, thank you for the list,” I said tightly, trying to cool the insecurity rapidly heating into anger within me.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s fine,” I quipped, cutting him off.

  His kind eyes were full of hurt; then he looked down at his oatmeal.

  I loved Adam so much, but I had to stop myself from saying what I wanted to say right then. I knew my insecurity tainted it, and lashing out wouldn’t fix anything. Lashing out would only make me — and Adam — feel worse.

  “I’ll make an appointment today,” I said clinically, letting the moment pass.

  Adam’s face softened, then he scraped the last bits of oatmeal from his bowl.

  Conversation began to flow shyly, and by the end of breakfast, we were almost back to our usual rapport.

  Almost.

  There was still something there, though, lurking on the corner of Adam’s smile when he hugged me goodbye.

  I’d hurt him. Probably last night when I snapped and said he should find another job…

  Once he closed the door, I began mentally kicking myself.

  There was a vent spewing warm air from the base of the cabinets. I sank against the wood and leaned against it, letting the heat soothe my lumbar muscles.

  For the first time in a long time, I cried. I sat there with my head between my hands and sobbed.

  Once all of the tears were gone, I couldn’t help but feel that I’d ruined everything. Because of the way I chose to handle this simple disagreement, there were visible cracks in my relationship.

  Getting a handle on my emotions — and how I reacted to them — was the only way to fix this. So I stood up, walked over to the table, and began calling each therapist that Adam had so kindly written down on the note for me.

  The first doctor’s office had a receptionist that made me feel like my call was a huge imposition to her, so I hung up halfway through the conversation. The second name on the list wasn’t accepting new patients — even though their website said they were. The third and fourth attempts were equally fruitless.