Page 77 of Gambler's Conceit

Vortex’s arms tighten around him, and he smooths his hand through Seven’s hair. I can tell he wants to ask more questions, but with Seven awake, we can’t afford to talk about any of this—not when he’s already been triggered this badly.

Seven is so small in comparison to Vortex’s large body. I know I should be jealous or upset, but all I feel is an unfamiliar warmth.

Vortex will protect Seven from everyone.

Maybe even including me.

I set my beer on the coffee table and get up. “One second. I’ll be right back.”

I head to my bathroom and check the various lotions and creams I have in the cabinet. I settle on one with a eucalyptus scent and another that’s lavender. Not the most traditionally masculine scents, but that’s unimportant when it comes to comfort.

I go back, and Seven is now sitting beside Vortex, curled up close but not clinging quite as much as before. Vortex still has his arm over Seven’s shoulder.

I perch myself on the coffee table in front of them. “Give me your arm,” I say to Seven.

Seven finally lifts his head, and I see that his eyes are puffy and red. He doesn’t look at me long, though, burying his face back against Vortex’s shoulder as he wordlessly offers me his arm.

“There you go,” Vortex says. “It’s going to be all right.”

Seven sniffles, then lets out a small, muffled sound that might be an attempt at a laugh. “Okay, Daddy.”

Vortex’s cheeks go bright red.

I stifle a laugh of my own as I dab a small amount of each lotion into separate parts of Seven’s arm and rub them in.

“There, smell those,” I order. “Tell me which one you like more.”

Seven obeys, sniffing first one, then the other. “This one,” he says, pointing to the spot I’d just put the eucalyptus lotion on. “But you don’t need to do… that.” He looks—and sounds—lost ashe glances between us. “There are other ways you could distract me.” He might be going for sly, but he doesn’t manage.

I ignore the suggestion and start rubbing the eucalyptus lotion onto his hand. Seven appears completely perplexed as I massage it into each finger. I haven’t given a lot of massages, but I know how I like them.

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, though, and he fidgets.

Vortex leans in like he’s going to kiss Seven’s cheek, but at the last second, Seven turns his head so their lips meet. Seven kisses him urgently, but I can feel Vortex’s tension.

I massage up along Seven’s wrist, until I get to his elbow. I dig my fingers into the muscles, and even his arms are tense. I don’t want to know what his back and shoulders are like.

“Maybe we should get Seven onto the bed,” I suggest. “So we can properly work him over.”

“I don’t want to be worked over with lotion,” Seven says, glancing at me. “I want to be worked overproperly.”

Vortex strokes his hair. “Let us do more than just sex, Seven,” he says quietly.

Seven’s expression turns into a glare. “Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” he says, his voice fierce. “I’m not some broken doll.”

I take Seven’s chin and force him to look me in the eyes. “I regularly get massages. Am I abroken dolltoo?”

Seven scowls at me. “No. But you know I don’t want things like that.”

“You don’t like being pampered?” Vortex asks.

“No,” Seven says flatly. “I don’t.”

I smirk at him. “All the more reason for me to do it. I think we can agree that I’m a sadist.”

Seven’s expression turns even more sour. “That’s not how it works,” he says.

Vortex is trying to hide a smile, but he’s failing. “At least he’s not making you say nice things about yourself. That would really be torture, wouldn’t it? I hear some people make their submissives do that.”

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