Page 34 of Key of Kink

We sat there in silence for a moment, the noise of the group rising and falling around us.

“Are you still a member?” he asked in a careful tone.

“Of Obsidian? Yes.”

He hesitated. “Is Nico?”

“No. He left a while ago.”

Elliott’s eyebrows lifted. “Really.”

“He hasn’t been back,” I continued. “But I’ve seen his name elsewhere. He’s making documentaries now, all about queer identity and power structures. He’s doing well.”

Elliott let out a slow breath. “That tracks.”

Silence again, but this time it had an edge.

“What happened between you two?” Then I reconsidered. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine. In fact, you’re the one person in here I can talk to about it.” He stared into his coffee as though it might offer answers. “He switched. Once.”

I waited.

“It changed everything.” Elliott’s voice was quiet. “We were always kind of fluid. But when he crossed over—when he wanted to submit—it… rewired things.” He glanced at me, searching. “Are some Doms that rigid? Can’t they be both Dom and lover?”

The question landed squarely in my chest. “I tend to keep the two separate,” I admitted.

Liar. What do you know about love?

Elliott nodded. “Yeah. I thought you might.”

Theo’s voice cut across the room. “Max, Elliott. We’re going again.”

I patted Elliott on the arm. “Why not come back to the club? You seemed to fit well there.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. One day.” Then he smiled. “Running the cafe and singing here takes up most of my time.”

I knew an excuse when I heard one.

Theo coughed. “Guys?”

I smiled. “Captain Clipboard wants us.”

Elliott chuckled. “Yeah. Some things don’t change.”

We reassembled, then launched into sound, voices layering, finding each other, weaving something new out of instinct and trust. The bass line settled into my chest, familiar and steady. But as we sang, my mind kept slipping, not far, but enough to be a distraction.

Control and care. Structure and laughter. Rules—and what happened when you trusted someone enough to bend them.

Theo caught my eye across the room, and a knowing look passed between us.

Love had softened him.

It would probably do something else entirely to me.

An inconvenient thought insinuated itself into my head.

Is keeping everything separate still the right arrangement? Or just the safest one?