The Mormon and the Dom (5 page)

“Wait.” Ronan was up and around the table before Noah could get any farther than the archway to the kitchen. “Please don’t go. I’m not explaining this well.” Ronan put his hands back in the position he had them at the table but now they were in midair. “I want the two separate parts to intermingle.” Ronan slowly pressed his hands together.

“Great visual aids, but I’m still not getting what you want from me. Not exactly.”

“I want to date you.”

“Well, that’s certainly clear.” Noah felt his hopes sink.

“You’re not interested?”

“I just wanted someone to show me—just once—what it would be like for one of my fantasies to come true.”

“You’re not looking for more than that?” Ronan not only sounded surprised, he looked it. His eyebrows were high and his mouth was open in a little O.

“I can’t even
get
that.” Noah had never been able to get a girl to date him. As interesting as he found Ronan, there was no way he was going to date him out in the open. He’d barely admitted to himself that he was gay. The thought of the whole world finding out was just too much for him to contemplate.

“But that’s what I’m offering.”

“I get it now. You want a sub who’s also your boyfriend. But that’s not what I’m looking for at all. I just want a few hours here and there to get this craving off my back.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Chapter Five

In the mother of all ironies, Ronan realized that when he was finally ready to explore the idea of a long-term, fully inclusive relationship, the man he was interested in wasn’t remotely interested in reciprocating. He would have laughed if the situation weren’t so sad. While he wanted to try a full connection that included expressing his BDSM needs, Noah wanted only a BDSM relationship. Or that was what he was getting from what Noah was saying.

“Are you dating someone?” Had Ronan totally misread the situation?

“No. I’ve never—one date in high school. She felt sorry for me.”

A new and far more tragic thought occurred to Ronan. “You’re straight?”

“I’m nothing since I’m celibate.” Noah looked thoroughly annoyed. “Look, it’s clear this isn’t going to work. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

Determined not to let him go, Ronan did something he swore he would never do. He put what he truly wanted on the backburner. If he turned Noah away now, he’d lose him completely. If he engaged him in scenes, he might be able to move them into something more. Despite the fact it seemed manipulative, Ronan took the sting away by rationalizing that he really didn’t know Noah. He was attracted to him. That much was clear. Moreover, Noah’s combination of innocence and fearlessness intrigued Ronan immensely. It had taken courage to stand on that street corner for inspection, and it had taken guts to get on the back of a motorcycle for a trip to a house where anything could have happened to him. Instead of pushing for more, Ronan should try connecting to Noah first. Perhaps if he did, he would discover he wasn’t attracted to Noah in deeper, more meaningful ways.

“You haven’t wasted my time. I just wanted to tell you what I’m looking for so when I ask you what you’re looking for, you’ll be more comfortable sharing.” It sounded like a load of ripe manure to his own ears, but he was struggling to cover his slip. What was wrong with him? He knew better than to get too personal so fast. This wasn’t just about him and what he wanted. For all he knew, Noah could be one of those men who was attracted to the fantasy of the act but found the actual execution woefully uncomfortable. “Why don’t we start with you telling me about your fantasy?”

Without looking back to see if he would follow, Ronan returned to the table. He sat down and pulled his piece of pie back in front of him. When he looked up, Noah stood in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. The expression on his face blended confusion and longing.

“Okay. Perhaps we should start with what this is and what this isn’t.” Ronan ate a bit of his pie and chewed slowly. Damn, it was good. “What this is about is both of us getting what we want. To do that, we have to be honest about our needs and expectations.” Ronan realized he had done that, but the fact Noah didn’t reciprocate didn’t mean he was wrong for sharing. By telling Noah the rules, he was reminding himself. “What this
isn’t
about is me controlling everything you do. Some people have a fulltime power exchange, but I’m not interested in that.”

That comment compelled Noah to move a step closer. He was clearly intrigued but still leery.

“While I enjoy being in control, I have no interest in dictating everything you do.”

Noah took another step toward the table. The soft white of the overhead light caused his blond hair to glow, darkening the blue of his eyes. In one way, he looked like an innocent sprite peeking around from the shadows of safety, but in another way, he looked like a wanton who was waiting to be activated. If Ronan were careful and flipped the right switch, he believed he would release all the sexuality that simmered just below Noah’s surface. If he wasn’t careful, he could wound him deeply and cause him to retreat forever. Giving a submissive a good first experience in BDSM was an important task, one that Ronan relished.

“Depending on my mood and your needs, I can accommodate most scenarios. There are a few things I don’t participate in because I don’t enjoy them.”

“Like what?” Noah settled back down at the table. He didn’t start in on his pie, but that might be because he was clearly riveted to everything Ronan was saying.

“I don’t do blood play, scat, or urine.” When Noah made a face, it was clear to Ronan he wasn’t interested in those things, either. Not that Ronan was knocking them—to each their own—but he knew his own limits. “Pretty much I’m not into anything involving bodily fluids other than semen.”

“You don’t kiss?”

A shiver went through Ronan. Normally, he didn’t kiss his submissives. He found it was too intimate and blurred the lines between the two separate halves of his life. Now that he wanted to blend the two, he said, “I do kiss. Is that something you like to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve never been kissed?”

“Not romantically.” Noah shrugged. When he looked away, it was clear he was ashamed.

“What does that mean?” Ronan didn’t like working with assumptions. When he wasn’t certain, he asked for clarification.

“Family.”

“Your family kisses you?”

“Not like with tongues or anything.” Noah suddenly laughed. “We’re close, but we’re not
that
close.”

“Of course not.” Ronan laughed, too. “So would you like me to kiss you or not?”

“I…” Noah trailed off as he dropped his attention to his plate of pie. He had yet to take a bite, which seemed to be a pretty clear indication of his agitated state.

“Be honest, Noah. If you want this to be as fulfilling as possible, you need to be clear with me.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?” Noah finally met Ronan’s gaze. His expression conveyed his frustration. “I have ideas. Things I’ve fantasied about, but I’m not sure. It’s like I won’t know until I try.”

“That’s normal.”

“It is?” Noah sounded so shocked to be normal in any way that Ronan picked up on his surprise immediately.

“Being normal is important to you?” He was careful to couch his observations in questions. Ronan knew if he made statements, Noah would sit there without indicating yes or no. He was brave in many ways but found articulating his desires extremely difficult.

“I tried so hard to be normal.”

“Do you think BDSM isn’t normal?”

“Is it?”

“I think it is.” Ronan’s answer clearly surprised Noah. “Human sexuality is as old as humans themselves.”

“That makes sense. Can’t have more humans without sex.”

“Right. But there’s more to it than simple procreation. Pleasure is an integral part of sex. What’s fascinating to me is that what humans find pleasurable is as vast as the ocean.”

That comment seemed to relax Noah. “But some people like things that are so weird.”

“Weird to you.”

“Blood, urine, scat—you can’t tell me that’s not weird. Even you don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t because it simply doesn’t turn me on. But I’m not condemning those who do find pleasure in those things. As long as everyone involved is a consenting adult, I don’t see the problem.” Ronan shrugged. He’d had this discussion many times. “Normal is what a group of people decide it is. Normal is one of the most amazingly flexible worlds in the English language. It used to be normal to take your horse and buggy everywhere. Now it would be considered eccentric.”

“But that’s technology.”

“Sure. But it changed what we consider normal or common. A hundred years or so ago, it was all horses, and then we had automobiles. Do you see what I’m trying so say?”

“But being beaten?” Noah was leaning closer to Ronan. This wasn’t just idle chat to Noah at all. He’d thought long and hard on all these things. That was good. Ronan enjoyed people who considered what they did.

“Pain sublimated as pleasure is just one way to find satisfaction.”

“Do you like pain?”

“I don’t enjoy eroticized pain. I can give that, in limited amounts to a submissive, but again, it can’t cross my line into drawing blood.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ronan took another bite of his pie, chewed, and swallowed. “I enjoy paddling buttocks until they’re rosy.” Ronan thought Noah’s pale skin would look amazing with a little spanking. “But I don’t hit so hard as to draw blood or make welts.”

Noah considered. “So it’s like a sexy spanking?”

“Yes.” Ronan found it was an apt description. “The purpose, for me, at least, is to warm the flesh and fuel the inner fantasy of the submissive as a bad boy who has to be punished.”

Even from across the table, Ronan was able to read the subtle signs of arousal. Noah leaned incrementally closer to him, licked his lips, and though he couldn’t see, Ronan knew his pupils had most certainly dilated.

“Have you been a bad boy, Noah?”

Noah nodded. As soon as his gaze met Ronan’s, Noah dropped his gaze by lowering his head.

“You’d like to be punished?”

“I’ve been so bad.”

“Yet you look so innocent.”

“In my mind, I’m a filthy whore, but in reality I’m a quivering virgin.”

Torn between wanting to explore Noah’s fantasy and wanting to assure him that his needs weren’t inherently wrong, Ronan realized one of the best ways to help Noah accept this facet of his personality was to act out his need to be punished.

“I think you have been very bad.”

Noah kept his face lowered but looked up, sparking a dozen wicked scenarios to flash through Ronan’s mind. Having the sweet, innocent Noah on his knees, sucking his cock, would take Ronan right back to his past. Intellectually, Ronan realized he’d never be able to recapture the raw intensity of that moment. And that was okay, because now he was older, wiser, and far more ready to accept and explore all the nuances he’d been utterly oblivious to back then.

“Tell me how bad you are, Noah.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“What makes you bad?” Ronan took another bite of the luscious pie. He enjoyed the mélange of flavors, but not as much as he appreciated Noah squirming in his chair like a wayward child. Given the likelihood of Noah’s sheltered existence, he wouldn’t be surprised to find schoolboy fantasies such as having to go to the principal’s office to explain his wrongdoings. It was a fairly common fantasy, so much so that Ronan would classify it as almost vanilla, but that was okay. He could take vanilla and turn it into something much more. What he needed was to start with the core fantasy and build from there. In many ways, it was like adding on to a tiny house. Each new room gave the structure more space and consequently the owner more freedom. Right now, Noah’s house was barely big enough for him to stand in.

“I’m wrong.”

“Wrong how?” When Noah hesitated, Ronan altered his tone from casual to just a shade shy of inquisitional. “I want you to tell me specifically how you are wrong.”

Instantly cowed, Noah said, “For one, I like men.”

“And that’s wrong?” Ronan would have rolled his eyes at a self-loathing homosexual, but in Noah’s case, he realized it wasn’t an act or a fetish. Carefully and consistently, Noah had been indoctrinated in the belief that same-sex love was wrong. There wasn’t a doubt in Ronan’s mind that the primary argument was probably because it went against nature.

“It has to be because if I’m only with men, I can’t reproduce.” Noah looked up, agonized and confused. “Isn’t that what you just said the point of sex was?”

“Reproduction is only one of the points of sexual liaisons. Procreation but also pleasure.”

“But in the animal kingdom…”

Ronan smiled gently. “That’s not true.”

“What?”

“You’re about to tell me that there isn’t homosexuality in the animal kingdom, right?”

Noah nodded.

“It’s bullshit.” Ronan finished the last bite of his pie. “Take out your smartphone and search for giraffe mating practices.”

With a dubious expression, Noah did as instructed.

Ronan gave him time to read over the information he’d pulled up.

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“It does. Again, it’s not all about procreation for humans or for animals. Same-sex penguins have mated for life. Even when they’re given the opportunity to mate for procreation, they decline.”

“But surely it’s only a handful of cases.” Noah seemed determined to hang on to his beliefs, and Ronan wouldn’t push too hard. It took time to change something one had believed all his life. Even if that belief was hurting them, most people still found it was difficult to let go.

“Homosexuality—monogamous and non-monogamous—is as common in the animal kingdom as it is with humans.”

Clearly spurred on by what he’d read, Noah hunched over his smartphone, tapping away, then holding steady when he perused what came up on his screen.

While he verified what Ronan had told him, Ronan went into the kitchen, rinsed his plate, and placed it in the dishwasher.