SubAir: Never mind. Anyway, I went to a kink club for the first time. It was interesting. I didn’t pass out from awkwardness, so I’m calling it a win.

  DomicronPersei8: Congrats! That first time can be so nerve-wracking. Did you talk to anyone, or just scope it out?

  SubAir: I planned to just lurk in the corner, but ended up having a pleasant conversation. It didn’t go anywhere, but I feel a lot better about next time.

  SubMarine: That’s awesome. My first time, I sat in the corner and tried not to hyperventilate. You’re already ahead of me.

  DomAndDommer: I went on a terrible date on Friday, then a shibari workshop on Saturday. Spent the rest of the weekend practicing knots on a chair leg.

  SubZero: Did the chair eventually safeword or did it suffer in silence?

  Chapter 2

  JAY

  Jay finished typing the last of the code and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. He was done. There was still work to do—beta testing, fixing the bugs—but that was the boring stuff. He’d always preferred the creative part, imagining something that didn’t exist before and making it a reality. Even though most people wouldn’t look at programming as art, Jay did, and he was used to being a little different.

  A paperclip bounced off his keyboard, startling him.

  “I recognize that smug expression. Are you done with the interface?” Shaniah grinned and threw another paperclip across the small gap between their desks.

  Jay snatched it out of the air. “You’re a prime example of why open offices are a terrible idea.” He paused, letting the tension build before breaking into a smile. “Yeah, I’m finally done. I can’t believe it.”

  It had taken months, the longest he’d ever worked on a project, but it was worth it. The final product would allow the school system to easily measure noise pollution around each building in the district, hopefully leading to a better learning experience for the students. It wasn’t curing cancer, but it was something.

  Jay had joined ZonTech straight out of college, when it was still a start-up, after hearing about their mission of using technology to track environmental pollution. And maybe not every project of the past few years had been entirely altruistic, but Jay was happy to make a difference when he could.

  “That’s huge. We can finally start testing the whole thing instead of bits and pieces.” Shaniah clapped her hands together, excitement written all over her face. “We have to celebrate! Happy hour?”

  Their small team of programmers took any excuse to go out and drink craft beers while talking shop, and though Jay loved each and every one of his coworkers, he wasn’t in the mood. The entire week had dragged by in a dark cloud, and he just wanted it to be over. Nothing had gone right—the code had given him trouble, he’d kept stumbling over the ball during soccer practice, and he’d slept through his alarm twice, causing him to skip the gym. Even his sisters had commented on his prickly mood when he didn’t use enough emojis in the family group chat.

  They weren’t wrong. Jay hadn’t been his usual cheery self.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Aaron.

  “I’m not really feeling it.” He gave Shaniah an apologetic smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe next week?”

  “Oh shit, I forgot.” She scrunched her face in a look of pity. “You just had a migraine, didn’t you? You probably don’t want to drink. Let’s do something next week.”

  Jay nodded, grateful for the excuse. It wasn’t the main reason to skip drinks, but he had zero desire to relive last week—the blur of scattered thoughts, lingering aches, and the oppressive feeling of bone-deep exhaustion that lasted for days. It’d been his own fault. After over a year without a migraine, he’d grown complacent, pushing too hard without taking better care of himself. Impatient to finish the code, he’d spent most of the previous week staring at the screen and didn’t take nearly enough breaks. It had only been a matter of time before a migraine exploded through him.

  And of course, it hit at the worst possible opportunity. He could still see the hurt and confusion in Aaron’s eyes. Maybe Jay should have stayed to explain, but the aura had been closing in fast. It wouldn’t be long before both light and sound became unbearable. Any extra words would have only sped up the inevitable. As it was, he’d made it home with seconds to spare.

  “I’m so glad we get Summer Fridays. Got any plans for the weekend?” Shaniah started throwing things into her purse, as was her ritual before leaving work. Every morning, she arranged the contents of her purse on the desk, and every afternoon, she packed it back up. Jay had asked her about it once, curious why she needed three different types of lotion, but she’d just given him a look of pity in response.

  “No plans. Just me and my couch.” Jay smiled and waved goodbye as she flounced off. “Have a good one!”

  He had plenty of plans, but none that he’d share with a coworker, no matter how close they were. No one in his life knew he’d joined Chain Reaction, and he wanted to keep it that way. Maybe it could be his deathbed confession, just to fuck with whoever happened to be there.

  A few more people asked Jay about his weekend plans as he made his way to the elevator. He smiled and repeated the same thing. It wasn’t even that much of a lie—he planned to spend the night on a couch, just as he’d done for the past few nights.

  Their couch.

  The day after the post-migraine symptoms waned, Jay went back to the club to look for Aaron, desperate to find him and explain, to pick up where they’d left off. He’d circled the crowded space, his gaze flitting back and forth, staying long past his usual time because he was afraid to miss Aaron. By the end of the night, he had to admit defeat and drag himself home.

  It was the same routine for the next few nights. He alternated walking around with sitting on their couch and watching the entrance. His stomach flipped with excitement every time a dark-haired man walked through the door, only to plummet in disappointment.

  The late nights were hard on Jay. After he slept through his alarms on Monday and Tuesday, he reassessed his strategy, forcing himself to leave the club by midnight. The idea of missing Aaron by a few minutes haunted him on the drives home, hanging around him like a suffocating cloud of anxiety.

  Why was he so obsessed with a man he’d barely met? Jay couldn’t remember the last time someone had affected him so strongly. His interest had been piqued the moment he noticed the willowy man at the bar with a forced smile on his lips as he rejected anyone who came up to him, and it had only grown from there.

  As he was approaching Aaron, Jay told himself it was only to help relocate him to a less conspicuous spot. The bar was a central location, and sitting there signaled interest. Clearly, Aaron hadn’t been aware of that. All Jay was doing was helping a new member.

  And yet, even after Aaron was safely deposited on a couch, Jay ended up sticking around. Laughing, trading easy banter, and feeling happier than he had in a long while.

  It didn’t hurt that Aaron was exactly Jay’s type—the full lips quirked in a playful smile, the silky dark hair, just long enough to grab onto when things got heated, the understated muscles beneath his slim frame. The mesmerizing green eyes that revealed every emotion. Was it any wonder that Jay couldn’t get his mind off him?

  He decided to expend his nervous energy by working out. It was hours before the club opened, and he’d end up moping around his house if he didn’t find something to distract himself.

  Besides, going to the gym always put Jay in a good mood. Walking through the door, he was greeted by the familiar clanking of weights, the slight odor of sweat and disinfectant in the air, the low hum of never-ending activity. This was the one place he could forget about everything else and just be.

  After changing into his workout clothes, he headed to the weight machines. Lost in the rhythm, sweat stinging his eyes, he could block out the rest of the world and focus on the burn of his muscles.

  Halfway through the rotation, he sensed someone behind him. After finishing the leg curls, he turned around to see Kenny shifting from foot to foot, looking awkward.

  “Hey, Kenny. You waiting for the machine?” Jay sprang up and wiped down the seat.

  “Not really,” Kenny gave him a shy smile. “I was waiting for you.”

  “Oh, sure. What’s up?”

  “Can we…” Kenny gestured to the corner with the vending machines and tables. Jay followed him, curious to hear what he had to say. Kenny was a sweet guy, and they’d had a brief fling a couple of years ago—a lukewarm relationship devoid of any tension or passion that ended without any need for a breakup conversation. Sure, the sex had been great, but outside of that, they were two agreeable, indecisive people who didn’t quite know what to do with one another.

  Despite staying on friendly terms, they rarely spent time together, and their occasional chats at the gym stayed on the surface. Jay couldn’t think of a reason why Kenny would pull him away for a private conversation with such a serious expression on his face.

  Kenny led the way to the vending machine and turned to Jay with a sheepish expression. “This is really stupid, but…” He paused for a deep breath. “I’m getting married. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

  “Congratulations!” Jay swept him into a hug. “That’s great news.”

  Kenny was smiling when they pulled apart, the earlier tension gone from his face. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be upset.”

  “Why? You and Rick are great together.” Jay had met Kenny’s boyfriend, now fiancé, a couple of times when he’d come to the gym. He seemed like a genuinely good guy, and the aura of competence he projected made him perfect for Kenny, who needed someone to take charge.

  “I don’t know.” Kenny shrugged. “It’s not like you were in love with me, but sometimes people get weird.”

  “I’m really glad for you, Kenny.” Jay clapped him on the back and smiled. “You deserve happiness.”

  To be polite, Jay asked about the proposal and made small talk for a few minutes before coming up with an excuse to leave. When Kenny crossed the gym to climb on a treadmill, Jay beelined for the locker room. The exchange had thrown him off-kilter, and he needed to be alone to work through whatever was making him feel this way.

  At home, he took a long, hot shower before sprawling out on his bed. He still had to eat dinner and get dressed before heading out, but not moving sounded more appealing, so he decided to waste some time on social media.

  He scrolled without really looking until he saw Layla’s post of his nephews enjoying a day at the zoo. The boys grinned into the camera while a tiger napped in the background, and Jay chuckled. He knew from experience how difficult it was to get them to stand still for a picture.

  Come to think of it, it’d been a while since he babysat for his older sister so she could have some alone time with her husband. Maybe next weekend.

  The soft smile lingered on his face until he stumbled onto a picture of Kenny, wrapped up in Rick’s arms. His outstretched hand showed off the ring on his finger. Jay tossed the phone aside with a groan and closed his eyes.

  He didn’t begrudge Kenny his happily ever after, but he was jealous. Not of Rick—Jay had zero desire to reconnect with Kenny—but of what Kenny and Rick had found together.

  Jay had always wanted a partner and a family, the same steadfast love his parents and sisters were lucky enough to find. And now Kenny was getting married while Jay was still single, no closer to his dream. It wasn’t for the lack of trying. Jay had dated men and women from all walks of life, enthusiastically throwing himself into each relationship, always hoping it would be the one.

  But none of them had lasted longer than a few months.

  The problem was obvious. It was him. His personality. When it came to sex, he was confident and dominant, and it was easy to find people to hook up with, especially once he’d discovered the BDSM scene. The trouble always came afterward. His partners were inevitably disappointed to find that his dominance began and ended with sex. The day-to-day Jay was the polar opposite of a stereotypical Dom. His family and coworkers described him as easygoing and agreeable, but many of his exes weren’t as tactful, calling him indecisive and boring before breaking things off.

  It shouldn’t have been an issue. There was no rule that Doms had to be confident or domineering outside of scenes, and Jay knew that. Yet not a single person he’d dated was content with what Jay had to offer.

  That was the real reason he’d joined Chain Reaction. A new club where nobody knew him, where people whose desires matched his own were neatly color-coded and presented to him on a platter, where there was no pressure, no expectations, no condemnation—a perfect place to find a partner.

  So why was it, with all the interested looks and coy insinuations, that Jay hadn’t hooked up with a single person since joining? Why hadn’t the red bracelet left his wrist? All he’d done so far was smile, make friends, and lurk around the viewing rooms, eyeing established couples with envy and wonder.

  He dragged himself off the bed and into the kitchen, throwing together a sandwich despite not being hungry. He needed sustenance to get him through another disappointing night of searching for Aaron. After donning his usual outfit of a plain black tee and dark jeans, he drove to the club with the music blaring out of his speakers, drowning out all thoughts.

  The doors had opened less than half an hour ago, but the space was already full. Eager people in leather and latex milled around, setting up future playtime or looking for scene partners, smiling and raising their eyebrows as Jay walked past. He ignored them, making a half-hearted lap around the club, not surprised that Aaron wasn’t there.

  Feeling suddenly exhausted, he collapsed on their couch and watched the couples walking by. Even outside of scenes, it was easy to tell who wore the black bracelet. The Doms seemed to be in charge of every situation, steering through the crowd to keep their partners from being jostled, ordering drinks without being asked. Always with their hands planted somewhere on their sub, establishing a subtle yet unmistakable authority.

  Jay couldn’t do that. How could he expect someone to submit to him in bed and then turn around and take care of him in all other aspects of life? And Jay desperately wanted someone to do just that, to wrap him up in a warm cocoon and take away the need to make decisions.

  Frustrated, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch. A pang of bittersweet melancholy ricocheted through his chest, a longing for a future that was just out of reach. He wished for love. A connection he could build on. A love so powerful, it would overcome the impossible obstacles and bathe his life in light and happiness.

  He was lost in the daydream when the couch dipped beside him, moments before a familiar voice reached his ears.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  Chapter 3

  AARON

  The surge of excitement at seeing Jay was quickly replaced by trepidation as Aaron approached the couch. Jay’s abrupt exit had been playing on loop in his head for the past week, and he had no interest in repeating the experience.

  On the other hand, Jay was sprawled out in the same spot as the last time instead of mingling. It had to mean something.

  Before his critical thinking caught up to his bravery, Aaron sat next to Jay, trying to sound flirty and nonchalant. “Hey, stranger.”

  Jay’s head shot up, his eyes widening and fixating on Aaron’s face. The world fell away as Aaron lost himself in the abyss of Jay’s dark, mesmerizing gaze. Electronic music floated up from the basement, becoming the beat of Aaron’s heart.

  Silence stretched. Doubt crept in, a sliver of worry that joining Jay was a mistake, that Jay was using silence as a weapon. Except Jay’s expression betrayed no hint of annoyance or displeasure, but rather a growing awareness of someone waking up from a deep sleep, caught halfway between fading dreams and encroaching reality.

  Jay’s lips slowly spread into a dazzling smile, more suited to winning the lottery than having a near stranger sit next to him.

  It made Aaron feel like the grand prize.

  “You’re here,” Jay said with far more reverence than it deserved.

  “Yes, I’ve located the secret meeting spot,” Aaron quipped, relief flooding his chest.

  Jay held his gaze, making it impossible to look away. The younger man was as gorgeous as Aaron remembered, though more tired, lacking the bright energy of their first meeting. Still, even the bags under his eyes didn’t detract from his captivating presence.

  “I’m sorry about last time,” Jay said. “I was really hoping to run into you again so I could explain.”

  The tension of the past week escaped Aaron all at once, and he let his body melt into the couch. “Here I am.” He spread his hands and smirked. “Tell me all your secrets. Did you hear a supersonic signal that called to your superhero alter ego? Or is it something boring, like you remembered you left the stove on?”

  “More boring than that. I felt a migraine aura, and when that happens, I usually don’t have a lot of time to get home before I become a useless puddle of goo.”

  Aaron gasped in horror, all traces of his mischievous attitude forgotten. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

  Jay waved away Aaron’s apology. “It wasn’t anything you did. They happen randomly.”

  “No, I mean, I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you. I assumed it was something horrible, like you were late getting home to your wife.”

  “That’s quite a dramatic conclusion to jump to.” Jay shook his head with a smile that quickly faltered. “Ugh. When I get migraines, I can’t really think or talk, so I just focus on getting home while I still can. I should have explained before I left.”

  Jay’s sincerity was obvious in every word, and Aaron hated the remorseful tone. He had an inexplicable urge to put the fading smile back on Jay’s face.

  “Hey.” He gently elbowed Jay’s side. “You have nothing to apologize for. You took care of yourself, and it was the right thing to do. I’m glad you didn’t make it worse by trying to stick around. And now that I know, you have my explicit permission to peace out as abruptly as possible.”

 

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