Page 72 of Key of Kink

Alex’s expression warmed. “He pretends he doesn’t. But yes, very much.”

I stared at the floor for a second. “I don’t know if Max would…” I trailed off.

“Max is the guy you keep trying not to look at?”

I nodded. “I’m not sure how he’d feel about…”

“About what?”

“That. Daddy. Any of it.”

Alex’s expression shifted from less playful to more precise. “Then don’t use words you don’t mean, just understand what they’re for.”

I frowned. “Which is?”

“Permission.”

“For what?”

“For him to be more than the Dom.”

That hit hard.

Alex leaned back against the table, his arms folded. “Power exchange doesn’t mean he carries everything. It means he’s trusted with it.”

I swallowed. “And Daddy?”

“Daddy is shorthand,” Alex said with a smile. “It means I feel safe with you. It means I want your strength and your softness. It means I see the man, not just the authority.” He tilted his head to one side. “If you only ever meet your Dom at his most controlled, you’ll only ever get the mask.”

“That’s not a mask,” I said automatically.

Alex smiled. “No. It’s a wall that he hides behind.”

I gazed at Max. Now there’s a man who has walls.

“I repeat, long-term works when the Dom is allowed to be human,” Alex said in a quieter voice.

“Human how?”

“Tired. Wrong. Turned on. Off-balance.” A small grin flickered. “Laughing.”

I exhaled slowly. “Okay, now I’m sure you can read my mind.” I bit my lip. “He doesn’t laugh much. I’ve sort of been working on that.”

Alex beamed. “There you go.”

I frowned. “So what, I just… destabilise him?”

“Not destabilise—invite.”

“Invite what?”

“Movement.” Alex stared at me. “If you want him long-term—and you do, don’t you?” I nodded. “Then don’t worship the control, but challenge it—gently.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It is,” he said in a calm tone. “But only if he doesn’t trust you.” He glanced at Max. “He looks solid. Which is why he can afford to bend.” A beat of silence before Alex touched my arm and I gave him my full attention. “Shake him up a little. Make him feel.”

I watched Max across the room, standing exactly the way he always did, his shoulders squared, arms loose but deliberate, every movement measured as though he was built that way.