Page 88 of Bi-Partisan

“I may have one idea,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.

He stares at me for a moment. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“If you’re up for it.”

His eyes go a little dark, but there’s also apprehension behind it.

“Let me take care of you,” I say, combing my fingers through his hair again. “Let me be the one to think for a little while.”

His breath catches as he leans into my touch. “Okay, just so we’re on the same page, are you saying you want to, like, dom me?”

I nearly choke. God, even anxious, he still doesn’t bother beating around the bush. “No, nothing like that,” I say, my voice tight. I clear my throat. “I just want to give you a space where you don’t feel like you have to make decisions or be in charge, but… soft.”

His body relaxes against mine and his eyes fall shut as he nods.

“I need words, baby.”

“Yes,” he says before I even finish. His eyes snap open to lock on mine. “I want that—I really want that. I’ve kind of been thinking about it since that night in the shower.”

“Which night?” I ask. “We shower together at least once a week.”

“When you fucked my thighs. You sort of gently bossed me around, and I think—well, I liked it,” he says.

“Thank you for telling me that,” I say, keeping my voice steady, calm. “If we’re going to do this, though, I’ll need you to talk to me, okay? I don’t want to accidentally misinterpret your body language and make you uncomfortable as a result.”

“I can do that.”

“And if you want to stop, or pause—“

“I’ll say so,” he promises.

“Thank you.“ I smile, then tighten my grip in his hair—not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to surprise him. “But don’t interrupt me.”

His breath hitches. “Sorry.”

“This is alright so far?” I ask.

He nods, then seems to remember and says, “Sorry, yes.”

“Good.” I lean forward to kiss him. “But you don’t need to apologize. We’re just exploring.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

I kiss him again, quickly, and can’t help smiling when he chases my lips once I pull away. “Patience.”

He exhales sharply.

“Now, I want you to stand and strip for me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Untangling himself from my lap, he stands, staying within arms reach. He takes his time undressing, carefully undoing the buttons of his shirt, peeling the T-shirt underneath over his head, then slipping out of his jeans. He kicks them off to the side, then looks at me patiently, awaiting my next instruction.

“Underwear too,” I tell him.

Once they’re gone, I let my eyes rake over his body. It feels a little weird to be so blatantly admiring him while still fully clothed, but based on the flush that spreads up his chest and neck, he doesn’t mind it. And it makes me feel a little bolder. I’m tempted to pull him back into my lap, the idea of the power I’d have with him being naked in my lap while I’m fully clothed is incredibly appealing. But he said he liked it when I bossed him around, so perhaps I should give him something to do.

“Kneel.” I keep my voice gentle, but firm, as I spread my legs to give him room.

Without missing a beat, he falls to his knees in front of me. His hands go to my thighs, sliding up toward my torso like he can’t help himself. His pupils are wide, the warm brown color barely visible as he looks at me.

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