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If he was going to hate me, I wanted it to be because I’d changed my mind or because I was stupid, not because everything was clearly wrong in my head. Before he’d reached for another cookie, I was already standing, praying he wouldn’t see what I desperately needed to hide.
“I have to go. Homework. And the paper. Thanks for… the help… I think I understand.”
I could practically feel Owen’s eyes on my back as I fled.
This time, it was my turn to leave. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere safe to escape to, no one who would understand.
Was it really escaping if walking away made me feel even more trapped?
Chapter 4 Owen
When things got rough, I ran.
Sometimes, I pushed myself, running the track at the gym, but more often than not, it was the type of running that meant I took off and didn’t look back. It was like I expected problems to magically vanish if I ignored them long enough.
A lot of times they did, even if it was just because people got tired of sitting around and waiting for me to come back. If it meant the person vanished, too, well… Even better. Even easier.
I’d learned that much when Adrian had just left. It was easier when he was gone. When he’d come home for holidays, there had always been this distance between us. That chasm had only grown with time, and for all that he’d come back to “help” me, it didn’t feel all that helpful.
Not when I wanted to run away from my own… house.
It seemed like that was all Adrian and I ever did — run away from each other, turn our backs on one another. I didn’t know how to fix it, or if I even could.
As much grief as I gave him, I wanted to. I didn’t want to have cold, forced conversations with him, but fuck, there was something about his prim, smug attitude that made me want to provoke him.
Then that night…
What the fuck had that been about?
It had been damn near a week since my brother had knelt at my feet to eat from my hand — and it sounded so fucked up when I put it that way, even though there hadn’t been anything sexual about it.
Except for the part where my cock had been hard in my pants from the second he’d obeyed me, and the fact that for a moment, we’d connected. He’d let down his guard, let me see the uncertainty and the longing, and it had been spellbinding.
I’d played Dom before — and it had been playing. It had been casual, without much experience and mostly with how-to guides from the Internet. It hadn’t been like this. That had been fucking around, with grins and snide comments. I wouldn’t have really called it BDSM, even; it had had some of the trappings, but for the most part, it’d just been sex.
Good sex, but only sex.
Then there had been getting my brother to kneel down on the floor next to me, to let me tell him he was a good pup and feed him store-bought cookies by hand. His lips had brushed my fingers, and for a moment, I’d forgotten that he was my sibling.
That we didn’t get along.
That there was so much distance between us that we might as well have still lived in different zip codes.
It had felt natural with Adrian, and so fucking rewarding, to watch the way the stress melted from his features as he submitted so beautifully, as he drank in the praise.
It had been easy to be kind to him, to offer him the comfort I had such a hard time giving him any other time. But when he’d gotten up and fled, I’d realized he’d probably noticed my erection.
Not sexual, my ass — and I couldn’t help but snort quietly to myself at my own thought.
I’d avoided him since, which hadn’t been too difficult. He left before I got up, and I got back after he’d gone to bed. I had run and run, but I was miserable. I didn’t want to avoid Adrian forever, but he probably thought I was a fucking pervert. I shouldn’t have admitted the things I had.
I tried to make up for it, in my own way. A few extra crumpled-up dollars from where I’d worked overtime on top of the power bill, dinner for him to reheat on the stove… Then there was tonight.
My palms were sweating as I took the leash out of the bag, and I didn’t know what the hell I’d been thinking when I’d bought it — or what he’d think. If he assumed it was mockery, that would probably be best.
I ripped the price tag off, coiled it neatly on the table, and scrawled a note: for your research.
I berated myself the whole way back to my room, shaking my head as I wandered into the bathroom to shower. As much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the sight of him wearing the collar with that plug in his hand. I wondered how it would feel to have the end of the leash in my hand.
