Page 18 of Playing with Fire

The voices from the kitchen faded as we climbed the stairs, replaced by the comfortable silence that had always existed between us. But now that silence held new possibilities, new questions, new potential.

"Misha's going to be okay, right?" I asked as we reached the bedroom. "He seems... fragile."

Xavier's expression softened slightly. "He's stronger than he looks. What Roche did to him..." His jaw tightened. "But he's healing. Having a place here helps."

I nodded, understanding what he wasn't saying. That chosen family mattered. That home wasn't about the walls around you, but the people inside them. That maybe I belonged here too, not just in Xavier's bed, but in this web of connections that had formed around him.

Xavier closed the door behind us and leaned against it. "So, you want to have the awkward morning-after talk now or later?"

I sat on the edge of his bed, focusing on tying my shoes to avoid his penetrating gaze. "Actually, I'm curious about the BDSM thing you mentioned." I surprised myself with my directness. "What are you into? How would that work between us?"

Xavier's eyebrows raised slightly. He pushed away from the door and came to sit beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight.

"I like being in control. Not just in the bedroom. That's probably obvious." His hand settled on my knee, warm and steady. "I'm not into submitting at all. But on the rare occasions I've had sex, I actually prefer to bottom."

I blinked in surprise. "Really? But I thought—"

"That tops are always dominant and bottoms are always submissive?" His lips curved in a knowing smile. "That's a common misconception. There's nothing more powerful than controlling someone who thinks they're in charge just because they're on top. There's power in making someone else do the work while you maintain all the control. It's like the ultimate hack, letting them think they're dominating you when really, you're the one pulling every string."

My mouth went dry at the thought.

“Aside from that, I have particular interests. Things that connect to what I am at my core." He studied my face, watching my reaction carefully. “Fire play. Wax play. Anything that uses heat and temperature to create sensations that dance right on that perfect edge between pleasure and pain."

I blinked in surprise. "You mean actually using fire? Isn't that dangerous?"

"That's why it has to be done with absolute precision and control." His eyes lit up with a familiar intensity I'd seen when he talked about his hunts. "There's an art to it. Understanding exactly how hot a flame burns, how quickly wax cools on skin, how to create sensations that overwhelm without causing actual harm."

I imagined Xavier with a lighter in hand, carefully painting my skin with flame, watching with that calculated focus as wax dripped and cooled on my body. The vision sent a shudder through me.

"It's intimate in a way most people don't understand," he continued, voice low and almost reverent. "Trusting someone with fire, with heat... it's the ultimate surrender. And controlling it, keeping someone safe while they experience that intensity... It's the purest expression of what I am."

"And that's what you'd want with me?"

"If you were open to it." His thumbs traced small circles on my knee. "We'd start very slowly. Build trust. Learn your limits. I'd never hurt you beyond what brings pleasure. Finding that perfect balance is the whole point."

"Okay.” I swallowed. “Let’s say I’m open to it. Where does that lead us?"

"Wherever we want it to." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "That's the beauty of it. We make our own rules."

His proximity made it hard to think straight. "Would you want... actual sex with me? Eventually?"

Xavier pulled back just enough to study my face. "I've had sex before," he said matter-of-factly. "But never because I was attracted to someone. It was always about power or control, or because they specifically asked for it. With you, it's different. I'm actually... interested. Not just in the power dynamics, but in you. In your pleasure." He looked almost surprised by his own admission. "I can't promise how it'll play out, but you're already rewiring my understanding of myself. Might as well see how far that goes."

"I'd like that," I said quietly.

His hand squeezed my thigh once before he stood. "Good. But first, shopping. Misha's been waiting, and if we make him wait any longer, he'll pick out nothing but pastel sweaters for you just to spite me."

Mishadrovelikesomeonewho'd learned in Paris traffic, which meant we made it to Columbus in record time. Leo sat pressed against me in the backseat, my arm draped around his shoulders as he scrolled through social media. I buried my nose in his hair, breathing in my shampoo on his skin, satisfaction curling in my chest at how thoroughly he smelled like me.

The territorial part of my brain that catalogued all my possessions had long ago filed Leo underessential. But this wasn't just about possession anymore. That much had become clear last night when I'd felt something shift inside me, something I was still struggling to name.

He was paying more attention to his phone than to me, and I felt an unfamiliar twinge of something that might have been insecurity. I plucked the device from his hands mid-scroll, earning a small sound of protest.

"You can have it back when you learn to pay attention to what matters," I murmured against his ear, sliding the phone into my pocket.

He shivered but didn't argue, just looked up at me with those dark eyes that always seemed to see right through me. "And what matters right now?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

The question caught me off guard. Leo rarely challenged me like this. Not before last night, anyway. But something had changed between us. The shift was subtle but unmistakable, a new confidence in the way he met my gaze, in the slight lift of his chin.

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