Page 45 of Fire & Ice

“Hmm,” is all Leander says in return, busy nosing at the nape of Tripp’s neck, kissing his skin softly and then pulling away without warning. When he stands back, Tripp realizes that his cummerbund is secured perfectly in place and Leander is grinning from ear to ear, looking like he just won the giant stuffed animal at the county fair.

“Sneaky bastard,” Tripp grunts, pressing a rough kiss to the side of Leander’s face before slipping out from behind the curtain and going to face the music.

The rest of their appointment runs smoothly, and they all manage to make it out the door with tuxes ordered and no one’sface being rearranged by Leander’s fist, so Tripp figures the day a success. Before the group splits, he and Beau solidify plans to meet for dinner the following night since they’re both off, and Lee mentions something about seeing him in the hospital the following week.

Apparently—according to the casual chatter Tripp only half-listens to because he’s busy thinking about his dick—Lee is scheduled for his annual intubation skills review and subsequent O.R. demonstration with Cornell Reading, City EMS’s Medical Director. Tradition holds that this would-be ten hour assignment winds up with Lee intubating two people and then Dr. Reading taking him out for an extended lunch, one that involves cocktails and neither of them returning to the hospital for the rest of the day.

Man,Tripp thinks, jealous. Christian might’ve been right, after all—drinking in the middle of the work day? Heisin the wrong profession.

During their ride back to the apartment, Lee is quiet, contemplatively gazing out the window as they drive. Try as he might, Tripp can’t figure out if he’s having some kind of a moment, or if this is an intimidation tactic. Either way, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him uneasy. Lee's silence continues all the way through their walk across the underground lot (where Tripp’s car can lately be found hanging out in the second space assigned to Lee's apartment, and with his very own keyfob access to the garage, thank you very much), through the journey up in the elevator, and Lee's unlocking of his front door.

It lasts through Lee picking up the box that contains his collar and offering it up, through Tripp accepting and threading it back around his neck, and even through Leander retrieving beers from the fridge and motioning with his hand for Trippto sit down on the couch. When he speaks, it isn’t what Tripp expects.

“If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Tripp replies easily, despite the lump rising in his throat. It’s not a lie, not for ninety-nine percent of the questions Leander couldpossiblyask. The only things Tripp would lie about at this point are his feelings regarding the man himself, andonlyif Lee asked him point-blank, in a way that Tripp couldn’t possibly dodge or divert.

Not a cell of his being wants to be untruthful with Leander, not anymore. Not after everything they’ve been through together and the incredible series of gifts Lee has given him. Butthat—those feelings? Tripp thinks this topic is perhaps best summed up with lifestyle-speak: Lee has taught him everything he knows about hard limits, and this is just one of his.

“When we were in the dressing room together,” Leander begins, and Tripp barely stops himself from breathing an obvious sigh of relief.

When you were fucking with me,he wants to interject, but doesn’t, because while the cage has been fun, Trippislooking to get both it and himself off tonight. “When you became aroused and the cage began to cause physical discomfort, did you…enjoy the actualpainaspect of what was happening?”

Tripp opens his mouth to reply, but Leander holds up a hand, so he stops.

“I’d like you to take a moment and really think about what I’m asking. There’s a difference betweenappreciatingthe pain and enjoying it. There is a line between understanding hurt andcravingit.I saw something in your face, when you cut your finger in the shower, and I’m…curious.”

Working his jaw a little, Tripp slumps back against the couch and regards Leander skeptically.Ishis friend actually a mindreader? This wouldn’t be the first time Tripp’s wondered. It definitely isn’t the first time Lee’s seen through to his covert desires so easily, whichwouldbe worrying, mostly because in what universe does Tripp get tohavethis?

To have someone who understands and validates him like it’s agiven, who’s always one step ahead of the sometimes-scary things Tripp wants and struggles to give voice to. If he was a lesser man, the whole damn concept might bring him to tears, and—oh, fuck. Who is he kidding?

“Oh,” Leander says immediately, turning to grab a tissue from the box on the side table. “I’m so sorry, Tripp. I didn’t mean to—please don’t be upset, there’s no pressure for you to like something that you don’t. I was wrong, I—”

“No, stupid.” Tripp sniffles, snatching the tissue from Leander’s grasp and swiping roughly at his traitorous eyes.

“Tripp,” Leander says warningly, but it’s Tripp’s turn to hold up a hand, still pressing the tissue against both of his eyes using his fingertips.

“Sorry,” Tripp says brusquely, tone covering desperately for the quiver he knows is present in his voice. “Just—one minute. Let me try, please? I’m trying.” He manages to look up and make eye contact, because he’s figured out that’s what Lee responds to best, what makes him feel respected and like Tripp is being sincere. It works: Lee nods and relaxes minutely, allowing Tripp the space to move what he needs to say from his brain down to his tongue and then out into the world.

“You’re not wrong,” Tripp begins, and this time, his eyes are focused on the knit fabric of Lee's couch cushions. He’d love to look his Dom in the eye, but he justisn’tthat together orconfident, not by a long shot. The fact that he’s even doing this, when only a few short weeks prior he wouldn’t even debrief a scene with Lee, feels like monumental progress. He hopes that Lee sees that, too.

“You remember this morning, when I said I had some stuff I wanted to run by you? Well…”

Tripp’s courage starts to run out, so instead of searching up some better words, he raises his cut finger and wiggles it, then uses the digit to point between himself and Lee. “Guess you beat me to the punch.” Feeling lighter, Tripp chances glancing over to gauge Lee's reaction, able to do so only because he already knows that he won’t find judgment there.

He’s right, of course—Lee is leaning against the couch with his arm on the back and his head braced on his hand. His eyes are thoughtful and the gears are clearly turning, but there’s nothing scornful in his expression. If anything, he looks intrigued. While Tripp watches him, nervous and twisting his fingers together in his lap, a small smile spreads across Leander’s face.

“You know that I couldn’t ask for a more perfect, more lovely, willing, and inspiring submissive,” Leander says bluntly, and Tripp flushes, because who the fucktalkslike that? About him, no less. “If you want to explore this,” he continues, easy as if they were discussing whether or not to go out for dinner, “I’m not only game, I’m excited. And if you decide—at any time—that it is not for you, or even that a particular type of pain is not for you, you should know in advance that you willneverdisappoint me by saying so.”

Breathless, Tripp can only nod.

“We will make it up as we go,” Leander offers, leaning forward and well into Tripp’s space. It’s not only intention andpromise that are written all over his face but plain and obvious affection, too.

“Thank you, sunshine,” Tripp says softly, tipping his head to the side and his mouth forward in a silent request. Leander reaches out, crooking a finger under Tripp’s chin to pull him the rest of the way in for a gentle kiss. The sweetness of his touch and the promises he’s just made sit in stark contrast, but Tripp eats it up, can’t ever get enough of Lee's hard and soft edges. The way he can make him twist and scream and beg for mercy, and then right after, pet his hair for over an hour while Tripp lays boneless in his arms—both sides of Lee are his favorite.

In fact, it’salla lot more than he deserves, more than he ever could have dreamed of having.

Leander clears his throat. “While both adorable and appreciated, ‘sunshine’ is not quite appropriate right now,” he reminds Tripp after pulling away from his lips. “Nor is ‘stupid,’ but you know that. I would have slapped you, but it felt incongruous with the conversation.” Lee is only half-serious, Tripp can tell by the way he’s suppressing a smile and the way he looks towards the balcony doors instead of making eye contact, presumably so as not to undermine himself.

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