Page 19 of Freddie

It’s nice. I forgot the loneliness that had consumed me over the weeks leading up to the holidays. How I hated and loved my own company. How I had stayed away from anywhere that wasn’t my local grocery store or work. It hurt to watch families, couples, and others celebrate togetherness at this time of year when I knew what lay at home for me was my record player and my laptop with several tabs open on different articles from Freddie’s blog.

“So, my shift starts in like twenty minutes, but I can swing by tomorrow again, if you like?” Freddie’s sweet accent drags me from my almost melancholy state, and I nod. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks for stopping by; it was nice.”

“Yeah, nice. Well, I better go get changed, big bear,” he tells me as he gets up and grabs his bag that was hanging off the back of the chair. He throws it over one shoulder. “Just my volunteer scrubs in here, no latex, I promise,” he winks as he pats the side of the bag.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” I growl playfully at him. He just shrugs, telling me he’ll drop by tomorrow, then he’s off. I watch him leave, then watch through the window of the ward as he takes off waving hello’s to different staff and swaying his curvy hips until he’s out of sight.

Lying back, I wonder how we got to this point. When I’m with Freddie, I constantly forget my Dom status and let myself be seen. The real me, not the one in charge. The one that makes the rules and dishes out punishment. He’s managed what no other sub ever has. He got inside my head, wriggled in there like a worm, and refused to leave.

A nurse comes by soon after and informs me of a scan that my doctor has ordered. It drags out, and it’s hours before I find comfort on the hard clinical bed with a half-finished meal and my book. I curse when someone comes by with forms that need signing and I realise that my writing hand is the one in a cast, which makes it awkward. Then, I’m alone again, awaiting results and listening to the soft snores of the other patients in the room. My mind slows down, and soon sleep takes me under.

Dreams of orange trees, black nails and warmth take over, leaving my injured body relaxed for the first time in days.

Chapter 22

Freddie

“You were a pastry chef? Are you having me on?” Simmons playfully asks with a mouthful of orange Jello.

“I swear on my Ma’s life. I moved to Edinburgh to go to catering college and ended up back home after only a couple of years qualified when the pandemic hit,” I tell him.

It’s been two days since I saw Simmons lying in the hospital, vulnerable and hurt. After speaking with Craig and Kody, whom I had adopted as a new friend when we caught sight of each other at the after-party event, I’d decided that maybe I could still have my cake and eat it too, metaphorically, of course.

I was excited about the possibility of further engagement with Simmons after we hooked up months ago. Being a virgin in almost every sense, I had tried hookup apps in the past to just get it over with. It’s not like I thought it was some precious thing I had to give to a dearly beloved. But I focused on my pastry career, which involved long hours and little social life, and I put off every offer to hook up because I was usually like a burst couch at the end of a 16-hour shift on my feet all day. I also didn’t get offered much on the dating profile as I had rules on my profile of them never giving me release or touching my cock in return.

It had me wondering why I had let Simmons touch me and bring me to orgasm. Maybe it was because we had a mutual kink for latex, and I was giddy at the prospect of meeting someone alike. Or maybe it was because we were in the moment and I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to have touch me more than the hairy bear that had been on top of me, the smell of arousal and lust mad eyes looking down at me. My body effervescent with the need to be touched, skin on skin with another, I had let it happen and hadn’t regretted it even for a moment.

I knew Simmons was a Dom; it was clear in how he exuded confidence. His tone, body language and size, all of it was a headline sign for ‘I am a Dom’. If that were the case, maybe once he was better, he would want to explore a D/s relationship of sorts with me.

I still wasn’t sure if there was anyone in his life, Chloe had told me about a guy around Simmons age that had been back and forth visiting so it was possible that the reason the texts never really went anywhere was because he had met someone since the expo and it had gotten serious. There were moments since yesterday though when we chatted where I could have sworn he was checking me out, so I did a little flirting and he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“That’s when you started your blog?”

“Yeah, my best mate Benji is a sex worker and had offered to help me get work that way when the world closed down. I wasn’t sure if it was for me, but I definitely liked the idea of sex education or reviewing toys, so I did some research, and my parents invested, and the rest is history.”

“Your parents invested? Do they know the type of blog you have?” I could tell he wasn’t judging, but I got it. It was odd for parents, especially in the Western world, to be so sex-positive and unashamed about it.

“Yeah, they have been super supportive. It might seem odd to some, but I’ve never known them to be any different,” I tell him honestly.

He stares at me, questions forming that I can see in his eyes, but eventually he just huffs a laugh and finishes eating.

“What about you? You’re a Dom, right? No way you came representing Nyctra if you weren’t. I mean, if you were someone’s sub, I mean, if you were mine and I’m not a Dom by the way, I would have you chained up in a little cage all naked and not allowed out.” Okay, sue me. I was flirting and pushing for more information.

“I am a Dom, you’re right there. And I’m sensing a little projection, maybe? That chain and cage something you want, Freddie? Something no one has offered you before?” He looks at me, one brow raised in question. Oh, he’s taunting me back.

Okay, I was fine when I was pushing him, but I’m not sure how I can contain myself and my answers when that’s the kind of questions he’s coming out with. I fold my arms and huff with a pout, but that just makes him laugh.

“I plead the Fifth. That’s something you guys say here, is it not?” I answer with my eyes narrowed in feigned agitation. He laughs at me again, shaking his gorgeous head of hair. He has small streaks of silver in it that my fingers ache to touch.

“I’m a professor by day. And unlike the fantasy, it’s actually a very boring job with lots of paperwork. The time off is good though, never missed a summer vacation. Burt taught me to be a Dom, but my nights at Nyctra have been… limited recently.”

His admission about his limited visits to his club makes me curious, but I try not to overthink why that is.

“Oh, a professor. Any subs that make you act out student-teacher scenes with a cane? Sub with a little tartan school skirt on and a caned red arse?” I’m teasing. I actively pursue and taunt as my cock, which has been caged for 19 days, pushes its luck and attempts to get hard. I shift my crossed legs so that both legs are together, side on to curb the arousal. If Simmons senses anything, he hasn’t let on.

“Tell you what, why don’t I get you a night pass to the club when I’m healed up and you can find out for yourself what I do with a sub there,” he growls low like he only wants those words to reach my ears.

I lick my dry lips as we stare at each other; my chest heaves, and so does his. I swallow, then reach over and take his right hand, squeezing it hard.