Page 69 of Complete Me

He slowly shakes his head. “No. It feels like a tight hug.” He grins dopily. “Like swaddling. It’s nice.” For someone who says he struggles with meditation, Bjorn appears to be taking to this experience like a duck to water.

With precision, I decorate his torso in a hemp garland. It’s tempting to twine intricate designs all over him, accentuate the lines of his body with complex patterns of rope and knots. But not this time. There’ll be opportunities in the future, if he wants.

I tie off the loose ends and squat in front of him. “Are you doing alright?”

“Mmm. Yes. My nose itches, though.” He scrunches up his features, trying to make the itch stop.

With the tip of my index finger, I gently scratch the bridge of his nose. “Good?”

“Yeah.” But he’s still making faces.

“Bjorn, you need to be honest with me. If I can’t trust you to tell me where your nose is itchy, how can I trust you to tell me when you’re experiencing discomfort elsewhere?”

He drops his head forward like a chastised kid, then looks at me again. “I’m sorry. Yes, it’s still itchy, and it’s right at the tip.” I scratch the tip of his nose, and he sighs with relief. “Aaah. Got it. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Our faces are mere inches apart. I can feel his warm breath on my cheek, and when I look into his eyes, he’s watching me, his expression open and so full of affection and peace that I’m almost at a loss for words. “How’s the rest of you?”

“I’m good, vennen.“ Heat rushes through my body, my heart feeling too big for my chest. “But I’d be better with a kiss.”

Slowly, I lean forward, closing the small gap between us, pressing my lips to his, sinking into this new experience. Up to this point, all of my scenes have been with models. Most of them became friends. None of them have been lovers. I’ve cared about all of them, but never like this. Never the way I care for Bjorn and Xander. I pour the new emotions into the press of our lips, wanting to tell Bjorn how much he means to me. He responds instantly, his mouth soft and warm against mine, and the kiss lights me up from head to toe. No one has ever made me feel so important, so wanted in every sense of the word, so accepted. Like I belong. Like I’ve found my place and we’re meant to be together.

Reluctantly, I pull back, ending the kiss, and stare into Bjorn’s eyes. My Bear. My heart. “Do you want to try some meditation? Or we can untie you and try again some other day.”

He shakes his head. “No. Let’s keep going.” His cheeks turn a soft pink. “As much as I want to wrap my arms around you, I can wait. I like how this feels. I like that you’re responsible. That I don’t have to make decisions. There’s no pressure on me to do anything but be.”

His words are music to my ears. It’s everything I wanted him to take away from this experience, and it’s just the beginning. “Okay. We’ll take about ten minutes and be still.” I keep my voice level and quiet. “Concentrate on your breathing. Sit up tall and imagine letting go of your stress. You have nothing to do but be present.” I continue to walk him through the session, aware of his breaths, watching his eyes for any sign of distress or discomfort. But a calmness has settled over him, and I let him be in the moment, soaking up the peace he seems to have found in this forced stillness. As we both sit quietly, the hyperawareness that accompanies a binding session fades, and my outer focus turns inward as it usually does. And waiting for me are the feelings I’ve both wanted and feared. They settle around me, crystal clear and demanding acknowledgement.

I’m in love with this man.

24

Kaino

Intense feelings are normal, post scene. Mine have never been this intense, though. “Bjorn, how are you doing?” He smiles, but a soft “Mmm” is all I get. That’s my cue to bring the session to a close. “I want you to take a cleansing breath. Fill your lungs as best you can.” I place my hand on his arm and watch his eyes until he does what I’ve asked. With each breath, a bit of the fog lifts. “Good. We’re almost there. One more breath.”

Carefully, I push to my feet and reach for the ends of the rope. “I’m going to untie you.” With measured movements, I work my way around him, undoing knots, noting where the rope has dug in, looking for any marks that might need attention, and spooling the hemp back into a neat coil. “How are you feeling now?”

Bjorn stretches his arms overhead and tentatively makes a few bending motions, understandably favoring the side with his scar. “Pretty amazing, actually. I feel calm. Relaxed but really alert.” His smile is a bit sheepish. “I was getting into that fuzzy feeling. It was nice.”

“If you decide you want to do this again, or if you want to try something more intense, we can keep that feeling going for longer. I didn’t want you to take on too much, with this being your first time. But we were also aiming for a hybrid purpose. Tying with the goal of calming the mind enough to meditate.”

He looks at me curiously. “What other purpose would there be?”

I put my ropes and shears in my duffle and turn back to focus on him, kneading his shoulder muscles before moving down his back to massage out some of the soreness from the ropes. “Any number, really. But most are meditative, performance, or sexual in nature.”

His muscles relax even further under the pressure of my fingers. “Mmm. Yeah. Sorry, I meant other purposes we could have for it. I’ve watched porn.” His tone is teasing. “Have you ever done that?”

“Watched porn? Or tied someone in a scene for sexual purposes?”

There’s a long pause, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s considering my question or he’s still foggy. “Bjorn?”

“Sorry, I was replaying my question in my head. I meant tying someone for sexual reasons. I figured you’ve watched porn, but now I’m curious.”

I laugh. “Yes to porn, no to tying someone for sexual scenes.” I massage his arms, and Bjorn hums again. He’s definitely more relaxed than I’ve seen him recently. “That’s not why I got into shibari. No judgment on the practice at all, but I’ve been all about the mental focus and clarity from the rope, and when asked, the performance.”

He looks up at me, his gaze clear and curious. “Would you ever consider it?”

I smirk at him. “Why? Are you volunteering to be a rope bottom in every sense of that term?”

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