Page 8 of His for Hanukkah

Tate bit back a quick but I just said that I did and tried to really listen to what Adam was telling him, since he clearly wasn’t saying it with his words. “Alright. Um, how would you have known if I wanted to play with you?”

“You’d have told me to follow you to a room. Or get on my knees or something. You know, Dom stuff.”

Adam didn’t want a Dom; he wanted a mind reader. If he weren’t looking for a bratty, needy boy it probably would have put him off, but instead he couldn’t be more pleased.

Thank God Tate had gotten it right today with the unexpected destruction-of-all-things-Christmas scene.

They’d have to do some more talking, a lot of talking, but it seemed like the conversation was going well. Through all the huffing and eye rolling, Adam was being quite open and honest about his needs.

“Hang on, are you saying that every time you did a scene with someone, he just told you to follow him and you did? Without asking if you were interested or what you wanted to do?” That could be dangerous.

Adam gave him a look that said his skepticism was completely irrational. “Yeah. I knew I could safe word if I needed to.”

“But how did the Doms know what they were supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Mama Kate or Yi would tell them.”

“Like, Yi the bartender? Hang on, were Mama Kate and Yi pimping you out?”

Adam gave him a glare. “They were taking care of me.”

That actually made a lot of sense. They were both parental figures in the kink scene, and he could just imagine the conversations with interested Doms as they helped look after Adam’s needs.

Tate thought back and started to fill in the pieces with his recent gossip around the club. After Adam’s break up and before Tate moved away, it seemed like Adam had been hooking up at least every few weeks. That had probably started to fall apart when Kate didn’t attend as often, and Yi stopped working Thursday nights.

“So why didn’t they tell me this?” Tate finally asked.

Adam shrugged, as though he couldn’t be responsible for the mysteries of the universe. Of course, if Adam became his spoiled little brat, he wouldn’t be responsible for anything.

“I suppose they figured I already knew.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “you were supposed to know.”

This boy was going to be trouble, and Tate didn’t have a single regret.

They both sat like that for another long moment. The quiet felt comfortable, even though Tate’s back and ass were getting sore from sitting so long in an awkward position. They’d need to get up soon, but he didn’t want to shut down the conversation.

“You know,” he finally offered, “you’re a lot more of a brat than I thought you were.”

That had Adam jerking away, so fast that he almost didn’t catch him.

Tate’s response was instinctive. “Boy, don’t you pull away from me.”

Adam froze, unbalanced and awkward.

“Come right back over here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Oh, God, that was hot. He felt himself getting instantly hard. The only thing that he could imagine being hotter was Daddy.

“Now, tell me why you pulled away.”

Adam’s lip trembled as he settled to his knees in the space between Tate’s outstretched legs. “I’m not trying to be a brat. I don’t want to be too much.”

“Too much what?” How had Tate missed seeing all this emotion before? Or maybe more appropriately, how had Adam ever managed to hold it back?

Adam looked anguished. “Too much trouble. Too anxious. Too needy. Too loud. Too emotional. Too annoying. Too dramatic. You know, too much.” His voice was almost a whisper as he finished.