Page 66 of Whirlwind

Chapter 3

Parker

Parker could hear the blood pulsing behind his ears, but he knew that anyone looking at him would only see his casual brand of control. He’d been feeling it all day—that something special was going to happen.

Whatever was going on with him and Ben had been stretched beyond its breaking point. But neither of them were willing to be the one to break.

They’d been good friends for years. Not just hanging out, but sharing some pretty heavy stuff with each other. Like how weird Ben felt about being raised by a white father and a black mother, a product of two cultures, but was seen in America as just being black. Combined with his family’s wealth that had him growing up around mostly white people, he felt like he’d never had a cultural home.

Ben was also the only one that Parker had told his whole story to, about coming out as trans to his family and being held down by his brothers while his father beat him. It wasn’t a moment he liked to relive, and he was just fortunate that he’d waited until he was done with college so that he had a savings account and an apartment ready when they disowned him.

He worked with too many teens every day who’d been kicked out of their homes without the skills and structure to support themselves. Parker knew that his job was making a difference in the world because he could see it every day.

It meant a lot to him that Ben took on pro bono cases for him, too. A visible show of respect for Parker and everything that was important to him that far exceeded anything else Ben could have given him.

But that wasn’t what had him so deliciously on edge as he tilted his chair back dangerously at Whirlwind.

There was just something about Ben, the way that he took on any challenge that Parker set for him. He was always a bit reserved at first, plotting his moves out with perfect control, learning the game, and then coming out of nowhere to egg Parker on until they were pushing past boundaries into the unexpected and unknown. The combination of control and competition was intoxicating.

Challenging Ben was almost as good as sex.

In fact, Parker had whacked off reliving some of their most daring moments. Running under a waterfall in their business suits. Victory in the bet about who could win more legal cases in a difficult week. Walking along the ledge on the roof of Ben’s office building. Holding his breath for the longest time in the pool at his apartment complex—a double jolt because he got to enjoy Ben’s muscular body in a swimsuit.

The funny thing was, when he tried to think about actually having sex with Ben, it got a little murky. Of course, he was hot as fuck. But he was a Dom through and through, and Parker wanted someone a little more... yielding.

He didn’t mind fighting for dominance. Hell, he loved the challenge. But at the end of the day, there couldn’t be any question about who would end up taking control.

The idea of having Ben chained to the bed or kneeling at his feet was laughable. And he sure as fuck wasn’t going to prostrate himself, no matter how much he wanted the sexy man.

With the way that they pushed each other and revved each other up, vanilla sex would just be disappointing.

Instead, he just watched Ben at the club. Watching him wield a whip or give a command in that deep, sexy voice was incredible. He knew that Ben was watching him, too.

It was another competition they had. They paraded subs in front of each other and showed off their techniques.

It wasn’t so much about who could use the most force or push their subs the farthest—they were both too respectful of their subs and confident in themselves to think that was what domination was about. It was more about that smirk when a sub reached that beautiful, freeing, perfect place that said I own this. For this sub, right now, I am God.

They ended up in a lot of group scenes, too. Like, a lot. They’d touched inadvertently, heat flashing through them, but made sure never to carry it any farther.

Parker was pretty sure that for all their bravado, they were both too chicken to potentially fuck up the best friendship, and the sexiest flirtation, in their lives.

That scene a few weeks ago with Eric’s boy, Micah, had started to shift things in Parker’s mind. There was something about taking turns with the same boy, watching each other perform, that got him thinking.

What if they shared a sub? Not just for an evening, or at someone else’s invitation, but as a more permanent relationship. It could work, right?

Once the seed of the idea was planted, it quickly took root. Parker had looked around the club, wondering if there was anyone who might be able to meet that particular need for them.

There were certainly enough subs who’d be willing. Delighted, even. They were both fairly popular, and their desires were—for a BDSM club—more or less mainstream.

There were always assholes who’d have a problem with Parker’s gender identity, as if he needed a biological dick to fuck someone’s brains out. But most people were cool about it.

Unfortunately, there was no one that he’d clicked with that way. Even the subs he felt more connected to felt like friends, not partners. He was pretty sure that if Ben had ever felt that spark for someone, he’d have known it. He watched the man’s every move.

So, when Ben went over to get a beer (payment for a lost bet, of course) and came back with a gorgeous, eager playmate, it seemed like fate.

Parker had known it was going to be a special day.

Parker took a moment to look over the prize Ben had brought him. Because Dakota was going to be his. Or, hopefully, a treat to share between them.