Page 18 of Love Language

But he could only turn his head downward so far and still see what Marco signing. It felt unnatural to be looking up.

I don’t need a title, Marco said. Just your honesty and your submission.

Greg signed his agreement.

Follow me, then.

Marco gently eased Greg’s feet to the floor, but his posture had already shifted. He was becoming more. Stronger. Commanding. Maybe even cruel, but in a temporary way.

Greg didn’t know yet, and the anticipation buzzed in his veins. He wasn’t entirely ready. Maybe three-quarters ready. But God, did he need it.

Marco started to walk out of the room, then paused for Greg to follow.

So, Greg followed.

Marco led him to a bedroom. It wasn’t showy or perfect. Just a regular bedroom. Lived in. The bed hadn’t been made and there were books, some coins, and an empty cup scattered across one of the side tables. It was clear which side of the bed Marco slept on.

The dresser was topped with an equal amount of flotsam. A few pictures, mostly of Marco with a crowd of friends and a woman who could have been his sister. Receipts. Coins. The bits of daily life that found their way into pockets and didn’t quite get put away.

It made Marco real. Human.

Greg found that he liked it.

It had been his job with Richard to keep their home spotless, and it still was, to this day.

Greg’s space was just a bit more… relaxed. He wasn’t messy. The room was mostly clean other than a sweatshirt hanging over the back of a chair and a pair of shoes by what was probably a closet door.

Marco went over to the door with the shoes and, yes, it appeared to be a closet. He pulled out a folded bed sheet from one shelf and a pile of carefully coiled lengths of rope from another.

He put the ropes on the chair and handed the sheet to Greg.

Help me put this on the bed.

Surprised, Greg complied, unfolding the sheet while Marco hastily pulled the rumpled sheets and covers up over the pillows. Together, they went through the awkward motions of tossing the sheet into the air, only to have it settle completely askew and have to start over again.

It was a bit like seeing behind the scenes.

Richard would have had him kneel in the living room, tense and bubbling with nervous excitement, not sure what to expect. Coming into the bedroom, seeing it staged for him, would have been part of the production.

That was… a little bit silly. But comforting, too. Like he didn’t need to take it too seriously.

Marco gave him a little wink.

Pick up the rope.

Greg gathered up the bundles, taking the coils and offering them up, open handed, as if on a platter.

Choose one and put the rest on the bed. Marco was stepping into Dom mode. Greg didn’t understand the purpose of the command, but he realized, freeingly, that he didn’t need to.

There were four colors: several in black, two red, one blue, and one green. The blue was eye-catching, bold and bright, but still soothing in the way that most blues were. He put the others down and kept that one, holding it uncertainly.

Touch it. Examine it. How does it feel?

Greg took his time exploring the rope. It was both rougher and thicker than he had expected. Somehow, he’d thought that the rope would be slippery smooth. But while this wasn’t scratchy, it wasn’t slippery, either.

It was certainly strong, he realized. Strong enough that he knew he wouldn’t be able to move.

His breath hitched.