WARNING: Mature Content
A Week Later
Cecil left this morning for another trip with Naomi and Nalani—and this time Aethera decided to tag along.
He'd told us about it days ago, giving us plenty of notice, making sure we were okay with it.
As if we'd ever stop him from spending time with people who care about him.
"It's just for the day," he'd said this morning, fidgeting with the strap of his bag. "I'll be back by evening."
"Have fun, beautiful," Keith had said, kissing him goodbye.
"Enjoy yourself, baby," I'd added, pulling him into a hug. "Tell Nalani and Aethera we said hello."
"And tell Naomi to stop stealing Lily," Keith had called after him.
Cecil had laughed and promised he would, and then he was gone.
Leaving Keith and me alone in the apartment for the first time in... I can't actually remember how long.
Which should be fine.
We've been alone together countless times over the decades.
But this time feels different.
Because I can't stop thinking about it.
About that day.
A week ago, when Cecil asked to watch us together. When I kissed Keith in front of him and felt Keith completely melt under my touch.
When I discovered that Keith—confident, playful, chaotic Keith—has a submissive side.
And he's never shown it to me before.
Not in all our years together.
Not in all the times we've danced around each other, never quite crossing that final line.
But he showed it to me that day.
With Cecil watching.
With Cecil touching.
And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.
I've been careful not to push. Not to bring it up. Waiting to see if Keith would mention it, if he'd want to explore that dynamic when it was just the two of us.
But he hasn't said anything.
And I've been going slowly insane trying to figure out if it was a one-time thing or if—
"Dylan?"
Keith's voice breaks through my thoughts.
I look up from where I've been staring at my coffee without actually drinking it.
"Yeah?"
"You've been weirdly quiet all morning." Keith is leaning against the kitchen counter, watching me with curious eyes. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Nothing."
"That's a lie. You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it."
I take a sip of coffee to avoid answering.
Keith moves closer, settling into the chair across from me. "Is this about Cecil being gone? Because he'll be back tonight—"
"It's not about Cecil being gone."
"Then what?"
I consider lying. Deflecting. Changing the subject.
But we've been dancing around each other for too long already.
"That day," I say carefully. "When Cecil wanted to watch us together."
Keith's expression shifts—surprise, then understanding, then something that might be nervousness.
"What about it?"
"You were different. With me. More..." I search for the right word. "Yielding."
Keith's face flushes slightly. "I was caught up in the moment."
"Were you?"
"What do you mean?"
I lean forward slightly. "I mean—was it just the moment? Or is that something you want? With me?"
Keith won't meet my eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Keith."
"Dylan, it's not—" He stops, running a hand through his hair. "Can we not do this?"
"Do what?"
"Analyze everything. Make it complicated. It was good. Can't we just leave it at that?"
"We could," I say. "But I don't want to."
Keith finally looks at me, something wary in his expression. "Why not?"
"Because I can't stop thinking about it." The admission comes easier than expected. "About you like that. Submissive. Trusting. Completely at my mercy."
Keith's breath hitches slightly. "Dylan—"
"I want to know if it was real. If it's something you actually want or if you were just performing for Cecil."
"I wasn't performing," Keith says quietly.
"Then what were you doing?"
"I was—" He stops, clearly struggling. "I was letting go. Letting you take control. Because—"
Another pause.
"Because I trust you. And because apparently when you get commanding, I turn into a mess."
The honesty in his voice does something to my chest.
"You've never shown me that side before," I say.
"I know."
"Why not?"
Keith shrugs, looking less uncomfortable than before. "Because we've been dancing around each other for decades. Never quite crossing certain lines. And I didn't know if you'd want—" He gestures vaguely. "That."
"You didn't know if I'd want you submissive?"
"Yeah."
I stand, moving around the table to where Keith is sitting.
He looks up at me, and I can see the vulnerability in his expression.
"Keith," I say carefully. "I want every part of you. Including that part. Especially that part."
His eyes widen slightly.
"I want you confident and playful," I continue. "I want you chaotic and overwhelming. And I want you yielding and trusting and completely under my control."
"Dylan—"
"I want all of it. All of you."
Keith swallows hard. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." He takes a breath. "I want that too. With you. Just—I'm still figuring it out. What it means. What I need."
"We'll figure it out together," I promise.
And then, because the gods apparently have a sense of humor, Keith's phone buzzes.
He glances at it and groans. "I forgot to grab clothes from my room before my shower earlier. Can you bring me some?"
I blink. "You're already in the shower?"
"About to be. I was going to grab them but then we started talking and—" He stands. "Never mind, I'll just go get them—"
"No," I say, an idea already forming in my head. "I'll bring them."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Keith looks at me for a moment, something flickering in his expression that suggests he knows exactly what I'm thinking.
But he just nods and heads toward the bathroom.
I wait until I hear the shower start.
Then I gather clothes from Keith's room—taking my time, letting anticipation build.
When I finally enter the bathroom, steam is already filling the space.
Keith is in the shower, his back to the door, water running over his skin.
I set the clothes down on the counter.
Then I strip off my own clothes and open the shower door.
Keith turns at the sound, his eyes widening when he sees me.
"Dylan? I thought you were just bringing—"
I don't let him finish.
I step into the shower and pin him against the glass wall in one smooth motion.
Keith releases a startled noise—something between a gasp and a moan.
"Dylan, what are you—"
"Proving something," I say against his ear before I bite his earlobe.
He gasp, his next words coming out shaky as he asks: "Proving what?"
"That I'm the only one you'll be submissive for."
Keith shivers, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders. "You don't need to prove that."
"Don't I?"
"I already know it's true," Keith breathes. "Only you. Only ever you."
The words settle over me like a brand.
"Good," I murmur. "Then let me take care of you."
"We just talked about me needing to figure this out—"
"And we will. Together. Starting now." I press closer, pinning him more firmly against the glass. "Tell me to stop if you don't want this."
Keith's breathing is uneven, making me feel proud that he is reacting this way to me. "I don't want you to stop."
"Good."
I kiss him—hard and demanding.
Keith melts into the kiss immediately, just like he did that day with Cecil watching.
But this time it's just us.
Just Keith and me, finally crossing that line we've been dancing around.
"Dylan," Keith gasps when I pull back. "Please—"
"Please what, sweetheart?"
The nickname slips out without thought, but Keith's reaction is immediate—his eyes going dark, his grip on my shoulders tightening.
"Say that again," he demands.
"What? Sweetheart?"
Keith makes a sound low in his throat. "Yes. That. Keep calling me that."
I save that information away for later. "You like that?"
"Apparently," Keith manages. "Who knew?"
"I did," I say, because apparently I did know, somewhere deep down, that Keith would respond to softer endearments when he's like this. "You're sweet when you submit. Soft. My sweetheart."
Keith whimpers—actually whimpers—and I realize just how much power I have in this moment.
Power that Keith is willingly giving me.
Trusting me with.
"I've got you," I promise. "Tell me what you need."
"You," Keith breathes. "Just you. However you want me."
The words are permission and surrender all at once.
"However I want you?" I repeat.
"Yes."
I consider this. Consider all the things I've wanted to do with Keith over the years but never quite found the courage to suggest.
"On your knees, sweetheart," I say quietly.
Keith's eyes widen, but he doesn't hesitate. He sinks to his knees right there in the shower, water cascading over both of us, looking up at me with complete trust.
And something in my chest cracks wide open.
He's beautiful like this.
Absolutely beautiful.
"Good," I murmur, my hand finding his hair. "So good for me."
Keith leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed.
And I realize—this is what we've been missing. What we've been dancing around for decades.
Not just physical intimacy.
But this kind of trust. This kind of vulnerability.
This kind of complete surrender.
"Dylan," Keith says softly. "I—"
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"I love you." His eyes open, meeting mine. "I've loved you for so long but I was scared to—scared that if we actually did this it would change things and—"
"It will change things," I interrupt gently. "It already has. But that's not a bad thing."
"No?"
"No. Because now I get all of you. And you get all of me." I cup his face carefully. "No more dancing around. No more waiting. Just us. Finally."
"Finally," Keith echoes.
I lean down to kiss him, and he responds with that same yielding softness he showed with Cecil.
But this time it's just for me.
Just mine.
My sweetheart.
My partner.
Mine.
I pull back slightly. "Stand up, sweetheart. You look pretty on your knees but we can get back to that later."
Keith obeys immediately, and I guide him against the glass again.
"Hands on the wall," I instruct.
He complies, and I watch as he settles into position—trusting, waiting, completely open to whatever I want to do.
"Beautiful," I murmur as I slide my hand down his spine and he shivers. "You're so beautiful like this."
"Dylan—"
"Shh. Let me take care of you, sweetheart."
And I do.
I take my time, learning Keith's responses in this new dynamic, finding what makes him gasp and plead and surrender even further.
It's different from when we were with Cecil—more intense, more focused.
Just the two of us, finally exploring what we've denied ourselves for so long.
I stare into his eyes, waiting for his consent and when he nods, I smirk.
I take the lube that is standing proudly on the shelf next to the shampoo and keep my eyes on his as I pour some into my hand and circle his rim.
He gasp from the new sensation and I push the first knuckle in.
Unlike Cecil, he is much tighter and it actually takes some effort to get him ready for me. Not that I'm complaining.
I push the finger in slowly and he moans, the sound so beautiful I want to hear it again and again.
"Relax for me, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you." I whisper and he nods, relaxing enough for me to be able to add a second finger.
I slowly fuck him with my fingers but stop when he turns his head.
"Is everything—" I start but he stops me before I finish my sentence.
"More. Give me more."
I smile as I kiss his neck. "As you wish, sweetheart."
I add a third finger and fasten my rhythm. His moans get louder and I can feel him clenching around my fingers as he comes.
I continue trusting my fingers, making sure he is prepared and I won't hurt him.
At some point Keith's knees start to give out and I have to hold him up, pressing him against the glass, supporting his weight.
"Too much?" I ask against his neck.
"No," Keith gasps. "Not enough. Never enough."
"Greedy," I observe, echoing what I said that day.
"Only for you," Keith manages. "Only ever for you."
The possessive satisfaction that floods through me is overwhelming.
"Mine," I say, not a question.
"Yours," Keith confirms. "Always yours."
I claim him then—properly, thoroughly, making sure he knows exactly what it means to be mine.
And Keith takes everything I give him with that same trust and openness, surrendering completely.
I fuck him hard, the thought of this being his first time completely vanishing as he reacts to everything I do to him.
He doesn't protest when I go rougher than before or when I wrap my hand around his throat and twist his head so I can kiss him.
He kisses me back as he comes again and I follow right after.
When we finally finish—both of us trembling and breathless—I hold Keith up against the glass, pressing kisses onto his shoulder, his neck, anywhere I can reach.
"Okay?" I ask quietly.
"Better than okay," Keith manages. "That was—"
"Perfect," I finish.
"Yeah. Perfect."
We stay like that for a long moment—the water still running, both of us catching our breath.
Then Keith turns in my arms, looking up at me with eyes that are still hazy but clearing.
"So," he says. "Sweetheart?"
I feel my face heat slightly. "You liked it."
"I loved it." Keith grins. "Didn't know I had a thing for pet names until you called me that."
"Saved for future reference."
"Good." Keith leans up to kiss me softly. "For the record—I really like this side of you. The commanding, possessive, 'you're mine' side."
"Good," I say. "Because I really like your submissive side."
"Only for you," Keith reminds me.
"Only for me," I agree. "And for Cecil, apparently."
Keith's expression shifts—something warm and pleased. "Yeah. For both of you. My partners."
"Our partners," I correct.
"Our partners," Keith echoes.
We finally turn off the water and dry off, moving back to the bedroom.
Keith is moving carefully—clearly sore—and satisfaction curls in my chest.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Very okay. Just—remind me that glass shower walls are very hard."
I laugh. "Noted for next time."
"Next time?" Keith raises an eyebrow.
"Sweetheart," I say, pulling him down onto the bed. "There's going to be many, many next times."
Keith shivers. "I'm okay with that."
"Good."
We settle together—Keith curling against my chest, my arms around him.
"Cecil's going to know," Keith says after a moment.
"Know what?"
"That we did something. The moment he walks in, he's going to take one look at us and know."
"Is that a problem?"
Keith considers this. "No. I think he'll probably be pleased, actually. That we're finally figuring out our dynamic."
"All our dynamics," I correct. "You and me. You and Cecil. Cecil and me. All three of us together."
"All the possibilities," Keith agrees.
We lie there in comfortable silence.
And I think about how we waited so long for this.
How we spent decades dancing around each other.
How it took Cecil coming into our lives to finally push us over that edge.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"For what?"
"For trusting me. For showing me this side of yourself."
Keith presses closer. "Thank you for wanting it. For wanting all of me."
"Always, sweetheart. Always."
Keith makes a soft, pleased sound.
And we drift off together, tangled in each other, finally complete.
Just waiting for Cecil to come home.
For our third.
For the final piece of the puzzle that makes us whole.