Page 32 of Fire & Ice

It wasn’t always so complicated. In fact, scening with Autumn began very similarly to the way he and Tripp have taken up: casual,fun,stress relief, and nothing more. They even met in a similar way, and Leander looks back on those days fondly. Technically, he saw Autumn—many times actually—long before they ever spoke. Autumn was a smoker back then, and took so many breaks it felt like she haunted the security-camera-free hiding spot outside of Central’s E.R. like a ghost.

Leander would catch sight of her lurking there practically every time his truck came to drop off a patient, and—he can’t lie—she wasinterestingto him. Most nurses put their hair up for a shift, but not Autumn. Long, thick, ringlet curls down past her shoulder blades, dark against her skin and constantly falling in her eyes—he often wondered how she managed to complete patient care without it becoming soaked in bodily fluids. She wore expensive, custom scrubs that hugged her ample curves, and while Leander wasn’t necessarily attracted to them, he certainly found her look aesthetically pleasing.

And she always had a cigarette in her hand.

One day, she called out to him as he passed. Leander was oblivious and busy, solo-dragging their litter towards the truck while his partner (pre-Marley) remained inside, restocking their gear. This woman, smirking and leaning sideways against the cement wall of the E.R., called him handsome and asked for a light, her cigarette already burning between two fingers. By that time, Leander was fascinated enough by her entire schtick andconstant presence outside the hospital to take the bait. They talked for at least fifteen minutes that day.

The truth is, Leander found Autumn’s personality to be just as captivating as her image, and her tendency to be an open book about anything and everything revealed a history rife with experiences that he could heavily relate to. Shitty parents and shittier coping skills, estranged siblings, and a drive to help others that neither of them have entirely made sense of, even now. Becoming a health care provider to try fulfill that calling, but then drowning under the weight of responsibility—Leander understood exactly why Autumn was always smoking.

Time went on, and eventually, they exchanged numbers so that she could coordinate her breaks with Leander’s drop-offs. They’d talk while he cleaned the back of the ambulance, or he’d lean against the wall and keep her company through her last drags. It went on like that for months, before they “took things extra-curricular,” as Autumn called it, before his partner casually mentioned Leander’s penchant for bondage and effectively outed him.

It was meant to be a tease, of course, his partner trying to embarrass him in front of a girl it was assumed he was crushing on, but Autumn was intrigued. The conversation immediately switched tracks, Autumn mentioned that she was looking to quit smoking, asked slyly whether Leander had any suggestions regarding healthier methods of coping or relieving stress, and the rest is history.

It’s difficult to feel regret for what they shared. Autumn was an incredible sub. A natural, and since Leander truly cared for her as a friend, their scenes were some of the most fulfilling of his life, up to that point. Her body was beautiful, she was adventurous and responsive, plus she communicated both frankly and openly. Autumn always told him what she needed,and therefore, Leander exited their scenes feeling satisfied, knowing that he was truly helping her.

But easy as it might have been to get his needs met with her andwithoutall of the messy intimacy, Autumn simply doesn’t hold the same allure for him anymore. Even aesthetically, the idea of tying her up, dripping wax all over her body and then stepping back to admire his work feels lackluster and uninspiring. It’s not just Leander’s emotions that are tied up with Tripp—it’severything.All of his needs, every single one.

Reaching across the table, Autumn pokes his bicep with a manicured finger, playful but uncharacteristically serious as she persists in coaxing him to share. “I know that face, Leander. And I didn’t really think you called me here because you missed me. You know, you break a girl’s heart, that’s one thing. You break her Saturday night plans and don’t deliver something juicy, she might have to kill you.”

Without missing a beat, Autumn lifts a hand and catches the attention of their server, ordering drinks for both of them and nailing Leander’s usual: a double ten-year whiskey, two rocks. He smiles at her gratefully before sighing and leaning back, tacking on a few appetizers and sushi rolls to the order, because if he’s doing this, it’s not going to be on an empty stomach.

Said stomach twists a little as he thinks about the two abandoned sandwiches still waiting futilely for their intendeds back home on his countertop. He hadn’t been able to muscle up the strength to put them away.

“So?” Autumn prompts, once the server is gone, resting her chin on the back of one hand with genuine interest.

Leander nods and takes a deep breath, struggling with where to begin. “The truth is—and I realize that this is extremely awkward and unfair of me—”

“But that’s not stopping you.” Autumn winks to soften the barb, so Leander continues.

“—I was hoping you could give me some, well, pointers, I suppose,” he says hesitantly. Autumn's eyes narrow in confusion, and her lips part (undoubtedly to sass him), but Leander cuts her off before she’s able to speak another word.

“I need to know what I could have done to make things better for you, emotionally, when I was your Dom. Or, on the flip side, if there is anything you wish thatyouwould have done to create better boundaries while still ensuring that your needs were met with me. I’m…” Leander lets a small growling noise escape from his mouth and runs a frustrated hand through his hair before throwing it up into the air and letting it slap down on his thigh. “I’m floundering.”

There’s silence from across the table, and Leander can’t bear to rip his eyes away from the Swedish Ivy plant that is for some reason placed between their booth and the one next to it on Autumn's side, as it has abruptly become extremely fascinating. He’sjustabout to call this whole night off, dub it a failure—it’s too much to ask of this woman, it’s unfair that he did so in the first place—when Autumn finally speaks.

“Are you telling me that the Tin Man finally convinced the Wizard to give him a heart? Seriously?Theunfeeling Leander Grigori? Mister ‘I Don’tDoLove, Autumn,’ has fallen prey to Cupid’s bow and arrow? Oh, this is delicious. This istoogood.”

Struggling not to roll his eyes, Leander drags them back to his dinner companion and scowls, especially when he clocks theamused expression on her face. “I don’t know that I’d call myselfunfeeling,”he protests.

“I would,” Autumn replies quickly.

“I feel thingsverystrongly, in fact. It’s just that love has not traditionally been—”

“Yeah, yeah, spare me the sermon, Little Lion Man. You do remember who you’re talking to, hmm? I’m the original one-eyed chicklet in the kingdom of the blind, baby. You can’t fool me, so don’t even try. Who is it?” Autumn sits back and folds her arms over her chest, tongue running across her teeth as she surveys Leander with what can only be described as smug superiority. She raises her eyebrows and waits while he resists the urge to point out that it would’ve been far more on brand for her to make a crack about him being the Cowardly Lion.

Miraculously, their server picks that moment to show up with their drinks, and Leander buys time by savoring several long sips, but Autumn isn’t remotely put off. She tastes her own cocktail—something mixed and fruity with an umbrella, Tripp would love it—while continuing to stare him down, gaze relentless and knowing. Honestly, if Leander ever had a mind to switch, he’d be curious on a purely scientific level what Autumn as a Dom would be like, because he has to admit, she has the attitudedown, when she wants.

“It’s Tripp,” Leander says simply, once he decides that he’s ready, figuring he owes Autumn that much. To his surprise, she barely reacts, dropping back against the booth with her fingernails tapping away against the table.

“Huh,” is all she says. When Leander raises his eyebrows in question, she just shrugs. “Makes sense.” Somewhat put out, he stares and blinks at her in disbelief, but she just raises both hands as if to say,what do you want from me?

“You can’t be serious. After everything you mocked me for lacking.”

“It’s relieving, really,” Autumn tells him, somehow holding a straight face. “I mean, for starters, you’re obviously a big ‘mo, so that doesn’t actually reflect on me at all.” Leander furrows his brow and opens his mouth to lecture her about the spectrum of sexuality but this time, Autumn cuts him off. “Whatever, don’t give me the identity speech again, it was just a joke. No, that isn’t it. You’re going to hate hearing this, I can guarantee it.”

“All I’m hearing so far is you making fun of me.”

Autumn snorts and shrugs with one shoulder. “Fair.” She swirls her straw in her drink for a minute before nodding to herself. “If it was going to be anyone, it was always going to be Tripp,” she says frankly, before taking a long sip from the glass she’s still toying with. “We can pretend I only thought so because of how well I know you, but the truth is, you’re not subtle, Lee.”

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