Beautiful Disaster

"You know I would never do anything to her that she doesn’t want?"

"That’s not the point," he hurries to explain. "It’s not about her, it’s about me. In my mind the need to protect her is too ingrained for that. And I’m not saying I’m going to get between you two if you decide to do something like that, just that I don’t want to be a part of it. What Bella said last night really made me think. About me just walking out, you know?"

"Okay. I’m sure we’ll find a way to make that work."

I have to admit, part of me is glad about his admission, and my selfish side definitely approves of not even having to voice my need to sometimes be alone with her. I don’t know if it will still be the case, but in the past Bella has always behaved differently when he has been around, and in the playroom I can’t have her second-guessing her own reactions. It’s my job to make sure she doesn’t have to, after all.

For once an amicable kind of silence settled between us, and it takes a little while for Jazz to pick up the thread again.

"You know, if neither of us had ever left home to go to college, I think chances would have been good that Bella and I would have ended up together. I still don’t think I could ever be ‘in love’ with her, but we’ve been close for so long, there are worse matches made that hold for a lifetime."

His words grate a little, but I know how he means them. It’s an explanation, one he’d probably never voice anywhere she could hear, but it makes sense. The way he’s looking at me shows that he knows how I must feel about that and he’s clearly waiting for a reaction, but I hesitate until the primal caveman in me has managed to go back to where he belongs – my subconscious – before I answer.

"But you did go to college, and things changed."

"For the better, if you ask me. The thought of having Charlie for a father-in-law is scary." Then he stops, grimacing. "Which reminds me that eventually he’ll find out that I’m screwing his little Bella girl, and I’m so not looking forward to that day."

"I don’t think any of us is," I snort. "Then again just letting Bella blurt that out, then get in his face for even attempting to tell her how to live her life could be worth the years of glares we’ll both get."

"Dude, you’ve never really been on the receiving end of her self-righteous rage! You have no idea how scary she can get!" he grunts, then shakes his head, laughing. "Okay, now I feel like a real moron. She really doesn’t need me to take care of herself. Probably never did. Maybe I’ve always been the one to need it?" he ends up musing. I hold my tongue although I silently agree.

When he remains lost in thought I get up to grab a glass of water, smiling when I catch him hiding a yawn on my return.

"You know, we can always go back to bed," I offer jokingly, but he just scoffs.

"Yeah, right. But I’m not tired."

"That yawn just said something entirely different. As do the dark circles under your eyes."

"Still doesn’t mean that I could actually fall asleep. Although coming twice after weeks of not even being able to get myself off kind of helped." Jazz grins sheepishly at me, but before I can make a cheesy and probably stupid comment, he goes on. "So, how are we going to do this, you teaching me stuff? I still don’t think I can really submit to you. Without faking I mean, and you’re too observant for me to pull that off anyway. And before you scoff at me again, I still remember you telling me once that a good Dom spends his time on the receiving end of things before he ever picks up the whip."

The way he squirms is almost adorable, and for a moment I’m tempted to see if I could actually push him into giving that a try, but I’m not that ready to set myself up for failure.

"Being on the receiving end doesn’t mean you have to submit to me."

The way his brows rise is nearly comical, but I do my best not to grin at him too brightly.

"And just how should that work then?"

"Well, for starters we don’t have to play or act in role for you to try things.

We can keep chatting about the latest xbox games while I tie you up and suspend you head down, feet up from the ceiling of the playroom so you see for yourself just how much that position messes with your ability to think straight because of the blood rushing to your head, or just how much your own body weight can hurt you if you don’t get the ties right. But submitting is a psychological thing, a mind game two people play; I only need you to bottom for me."

I let that sink in for a moment before I launch into my explanation.

"I know some people think it’s only semantics, that whole spiel with submitting versus bottoming, dominating versus topping, and it’s beyond me to draw clear lines, but there’s a huge difference in the end for the people involved. It’s basically what Bella meant when she said she could never see you as her Dom, but she’s happy to act in a submissive manner towards you. And that’s the most I would ever ask of you in that matter, to let me take control of you – physically only – for a limited amount of time.

How much you enjoy it, and how much your mind will let you slip into that role and add an additional psychological layer for you, I can’t say."

He still looks less than convinced, so I decide to just show him.

"How about a more hands-on example?"

"Sure."

Trying hard not to grin I catch his gaze, then force myself to lose all the friendly playfulness that has been in the foreground of our conversation the whole time.

"Get up and strip."

Jazz looks a little perplexed but after a moment’s hesitation he obeys, shedding his clothes without a word of protest. I’m amused to see that he’s getting hard already, although the cool temperature of the room is obviously taking its toll, too. I remain seated, even lean back in a relaxed manner as I look up at him where he’s standing naked before me, physically imposing but not in the least bit towering over me.

Tuning my voice to a more conversational timbre, I ask him the quintessential question.

"Why did you just do that?"

He blinks, then even looks a little pissed, but his uncertainty about my motives is so obvious.

"Uh, because you asked me to?"

"Sure, but was that your only driving force? I mean, what made you get up and strip?"

"I guess I wanted to fulfill your expectation? You get kind of compelling when you switch over into Dom mode like that."

I snort, but don’t comment on that.

"But no other reason? Not to please me or some crap like that?"

I chose my words carefully to make it easier for him to catch on, and of course he does then.

"Nope. I mean, how should seeing me naked please you? I’m not that much of a narcissist to believe that the sight of my Greek God physique has that effect on anybody."

This time it’s hard not to grin, but I somehow manage.

"Are you sure about that? Not about the effect part, I mean, about your action not pleasing me?"

"Call me daft, but I just don’t see it."

Extending my arms onto the backrest of the couch, I shrug.

"Maybe. But you keep telling me that you don’t want to submit to me, and still you jump and do exactly what I say. You obey, you willingly take a first step to give me control over you and your actions, whether you do that actively knowing or not."

Again he’s confused, but now in a different way.

"It can’t be that easy."

Now I can’t hold back that laugh anymore, but before he can get in my face for that, I make my tone turn stern again.

"Go over to the window, lean against it with your palms flat against the glass, legs spread. Then hold still."