October 22nd, xxxx (Night)
NOW THAT MARKET DAY has officially come to a close, Precious opts to use the time wisely, to unwind, relax and be free, unencumbered.
And so, jacket, vest, tie hangs on his swivel chair; shirt unbuttoned and untucked, belt loosened, he lies on the brown sofa in his office, feet propped in the air, head resting against a pillow.
With a new book in hand, Precious decides he'll hide here in the meantime until he's drowsy enough to pick himself to bed.
Though exhausted, his body doesn't think it's ready for sleep but it's probably the gallons of coffee he gulped today that's betraying the natural order of life.
Is what he lies to himself but even as he tries to understand the words before him, even as he yawns and his brain shoots in fatigue overdrive, he knows why he's not trudging to bed.
Precious can lie to himself all he wants but his attention is turned to the game outside and the audience it attracts.
He should be there watching the free entertainment—if the free entertainment is the game and not a particularly shirtless Major.
He could've stayed, pretended he's all about the sport but he couldn't help the way his gaze trained on a certain Shifter, eyeing the ripples of his muscles, the flexing of his biceps, of his abs, the tautness of his nipples in the cold night air.
That when Kamil scores for the team, blue eyes darkening under floating moon will meet Precious and wink, a darling teasing smile that'll warm the blood to his crotch.
Then, Precious will flush and forget to breathe, his mind adding to his inner humiliation when it replays that night in the manor's bathroom, when he recalls that day in the car ride.
Little snippets when he glance around for the Major or when he'll stop a second to fixate on that fateful morning he's taking to calling command a tie.
Goddess, that's ages ago now. So much has happened. And Precious thinks it's a good thing he's been running around, definitely helping him not to obsess over it. But now that there's nothing immediate for him to do... Well...
Precious tries again, the reading getting his groove on and it must've worked—of course it did—because when the door to his office open and close and someone enters, his concentration is too far gone until they speak.
"You're awake," Precious makes a noncommittal sound but snap into focus when Kamil turns his chin up to smiling eyes and damp hair. "I thought for sure you'll be asleep."
The finger on his skin is cold to the touch, the kind of cold you want to feel all over your body, naked, without protection.
Sucking in a breath at the image, he's hit with the wild smell of sage; the spicy tang of it seeping into his pores and he sighs softly, the back of his mind trying to get him alarmed that soap can elicit this sort of arousal but the knackered fibre of him doesn't listen.
Will not listen because when Kamil knock their foreheads together, Precious involuntarily closed his eyes and exhales, gripping the spine of the book so he doesn't do something as hasty as pinning Kamil to himself and clash their lips in a blazing kiss.
Kamil pulls away first and it takes the sheer grace of humility that Precious doesn't complain. Instead of sitting, he kneels.
For the briefest of seconds, Precious thinks he should be the one kneeling. The audacity of that thought makes him groan, drop the book to clarify,
"We're not sleeping together."
"I know."
He does a redundant nod, picks up the book and tries reading but it's futile; unnerved at their close proximity, hyperaware of Kamil's unwavering attention.
Suddenly self-conscious of what he's reading; how he's reading, if he looks reasonable from this angle, if he smells as good as him; wanting a finger, or breath or just a graze on him.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." Yes. Please. Anything.
"Promise you'll answer."
"Okay."
"I kind of need an Alpha's promise."
He rolls his eyes and abandons the book. "What is it, Kamil?"
"Do you enjoy being sexually submissive?"
He blinks, sputters out a, "What?"
"Outside of the bedroom, what's your limits?"
Sitting up, he stares incredulously. "Wha.. Why... Where's all this coming from?"
"I'm a dom. Outside of the bedroom, I don't make decisions for my sub. Unless of course, you want me to."
Unless you want me to; a firm assumption.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"You promised you'll answer."
But should he? He can deny. He should deny. His business... His bedroom business is no one's business but his own. What right does the Major think he has to ask him such a personal question?
Precious opens his mouth to smack the question away, to fiercely and convincingly object but he makes the mistake of finding those baby blues; blue like the surface of the ocean, deceptive but open, cold but like an embrace and his tongue doesn't lie.
Without breaking eye contact speaks the truth. "I do," but without missing a beat finishes, "But I'm not interested anymore."
"Why?"
"I'm an Alpha." The reason is obvious enough but when Kamil nods waiting for an explanation, he blows out a breath.
"An Alpha isn't submissive. I... Well, it'll be odd if I'm suddenly the opposite in the bedroom."
"So your plan is what? To pretend?"
He folds his arms disliking the tone of his voice. "I can wing it. How hard can it be to be a top."
"I'm a bottom too."
"Huh?"
"I like it in the ass too."
"Wow," he tears his eyes away, cheeks warm with nasty images his mind has no business conjuring. "This night is shaping up to be very informative. I did not need to know that."
Kamil lightly holds his elbow when he shifts to put some distance between them.
"No, it's because you have this generalization of what a dom and sub should be like. In the bedroom, I am a dom but outside of it... I've been called a casual dom before."
Kamil rolls his eyes at what he's about to say, "So unlike Alpha Constellation and Blue bastard."
"My point exactly. They're Alphas. Dominant Alphas."
"Being an Alpha doesn't automatically make you—"
"I'll like to stop having this conversation now."
"Make me."
Precious just laughs, stands and walks away. Kamil stays put, giving him the space he clearly needs to run away. Arms folded, he chews on his lips wishing the ground open up and swallow him. Or better yet, to turn back and pick a different topic of conversation.
"Did something happen? Did someone say something?"
Kamil's eyes hardens as he thinks that maybe someone pushed Precious too far, pushed his limits, his boundaries. He walks to him, tilts his chin up and growls,.
"Did someone hurt you? Who the fuck was it?"
Thinking about the one time he tried it out, the pleasure he sought out hoping it was a fluke, hoping it was something in the water, in his grief, in feeling out of his depth but alas, Precious truly likes it when he kneels.
He thinks this, keeping quiet for a long time that Kamil starts to fret.
"Precious..."
"Nothing happened. No one hurt me. I can't be vulnerable." That limitation of his is behind him, has been put to bed, will be ignored.
"I'm going to guess you're talking about self-preservation..."
"You think?"
The Major softly smiles and takes a step back.
"But why did you ask? Did I give off a vibe? How did you know?"
"How do you think?"
Scratching the back of his head, he cocks his head away as he hearken back to the gruff 'Untie it', the self-assured command. "Ah."
"It was a guess that paid off."
Like a marionette, he bobs his head and walk back to the sofa, energy sapped out of him.
"I'm not sleeping yet but if you're not tired, you could stay."
"I wish but today has been a long day," the response disappoints him but he's gratified when Kamil shines a smile on him. "I'll leave you to it. Good night, Alpha."
Precious doesn't respond in time. He thinks there's something strange about the greeting but can't put a finger on it.
"Alpha?"
"Yeah. Night, Kamil."
It's when the door shuts does he realize what's strange. Kamil had called him by his name.