Page 2 of Asher's Answer
A sob threatens to tear its way from the back of my throat, but I bite down on my clenched fist and hold it back through sheer willpower. I refuse to cry over anything that man said to me.
Dropping out isn’t the worst thing that could happen, I tell myself after taking deep, meditative breaths.I hate college anyway.
I was only doing the damn business degree to shut my father up. So what if I’ve only got a semester left to go? It’s not as though I was going to use the degree, is it?
At twenty-two, I should probably have a better idea of what I do want to do with my life, but I’m spiraling right now, so thinking beyond getting myself through the next few days isn’t possible.
I spend the next couple of hours applying for jobs online -everything from simple cashier positions to administrative support- and then start scrolling real estate listings for anyone in search of a roommate within my extremely limited budget. My eyes grow heavy as I read listing after listing, and soon enough I’m drifting into oblivion.
Chapter Two – Charlie
“So then I told the punk to beat it before I went full Dom on his ass and…you’re not even listening, are you?”
I shake my head and turn to my younger brother, an apology already on the tip of my tongue. His dark brown eyes narrow at me and he lobs a fry from his plate across the table in our dingy station lunchroom. It hits me in the chest and I scowl, trying to brush off the tiny dot of grease it left on the light blue material. “Asshole,” I huff, “was that necessary?”
“Charlie, you weren’t listening to me,” he whines.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’rereallyselling the Dom vibes, Josh.”
Josh scoffs, but a smile is tugging at his lips. He’s as far from a Dom as anyone can get, and we both know it. Still, to look at him you wouldn’t guess he’s actually a pretty adorable sub.
We’re both cops, with him fairly new to the force, having graduated from the Academy last year, and we both like our gym time. At 6’3”, I eclipse his height by about two inches, but he’s broader across the chest than I am. His eyes are dark where mine are blue, but we both sport the same dark hair and stubble across our matching jawlines.
But that’s where the similarities end. Even though there’s eight years between us in age, we have a close enough relationship that we’re aware of each other’s kinks. In fact, he can thank me for introducing him to the world of age play where we’ve both found our niche.
“Speaking of,” he asks, “you gonna check out The Grove with me tonight?”
We’re both rostered off for the next couple of days, and it’s been a long time since either of us saw any action. He’s predominantly a scene little, while I’m a mostly lifestyle Daddy.
After my last breakup, I’ve been questioning whether the right boy is out there for me. I’m looking for someone whose little side is more fluid, who doesn’t mind that my job is unpredictable and that the hours mean that a rigid schedule is impossible for me to uphold. I need someone who connects with me as more than just Daddy -a partner and a lover when they’re big as well as little. An equal, I guess. I don’t mind being a caregiver, but I don’t want it to be a twenty-four-seven thing. But I don’t just want scheduled scene play, either. I’m fussy like that.
It all feels a bit like a pipe dream at this point. Maybe hitting up The Grove -a club which caters to all aspects of the BDSM community, located on the fringe of the city- isn’t a bad idea. If nothing else, spoiling a boy rotten for a night will be more relaxing than heading home to jerk off to porn.
“You meeting someone specific there?” I ask Josh, smirking because he’s a bit of a brat and has chased off the last couple of Daddies he’s played with. I’ve never tried to fill that role for him because, as my baby brother, it just feels weird when I usually equate the lifestyle with my sexual relationships. But I’ve still got a set up at my place with all the kiddie comforts he could need for emergency little time just in case. He’s never had to use it, but the unspoken offer is there. He’s currently living with our parents, so there’s no chance for him to indulge at home.
He rolls his eyes. “Nah. After Declan, I’m taking a break. But it’s been a while and,” he rolls his neck and shoulders, “I’m getting antsy to let go, y’know?”
“I get it,” I assure him gently. Because, yeah, I do. The last few months without a boy in my life have been difficult. I genuinely like having someone to care for, even without the sex. (But, Christ, I miss the sex, too.) Checking my watch, I offer, “My shift’s over at five. Should we meet there around eight?” It gives me time to shower, change and have dinner.
“Sounds good.” Josh stands up and balls up the remains of his takeout meal. He checks his own watch and exhales. “I’ve gotta get back to it. I’ll see you there.”
Even though we work in the same precinct, we’re on different teams. It’s not often we get the chance to meet for lunch, but it’s been a slow week. The city’s not exactly a criminal hotspot, not any worse than any other cities in the country, but we still have to deal with our share of break-ins, assaults and domestic violence.
With Josh still green, he’s got an easy beat to walk over by the college campus downtown. My partner and I cover the shadier areas in the city proper. Our usual arrests generally happen after dark, though some of the local dealers have been brazenly conducting their business in daylight lately. More often than not, we respond to calls and do footwork for the detectives in the precinct. It works for me.
“Josh looks good,” Max observes with a grin as I toss my own shit into a waiting trashcan. He’s a handful of years older than me and has been my partner for the past three years. He knew just how anxious I was about my kid brother joining the force.
I nudge his shoulder with my own. “Yeah, turns out he’s a natural.” As far as I’m aware, Max doesn’t know anything about our kinkier lives, but I’ve previously confessed my concerns that Josh’s naturally more submissive nature had me worried at his choice of career. But it turns out it helps with talking to people – getting witness statements and talking people down from volatile situations are kind of his forte.
“He looks up to you, Charlie,” Max bobs his head, a lock of blonde hair falling across his eyes. He blows it back. “It’s cute.”
I can’t help laughing. “Don’t ever call him cute to his face. You’ll live to regret it.”
Then we’re out of the building, climbing into our patrol car, and our conversation turns to other things.
Chapter Three – Asher
Istare with wide eyes at the cop in front of me, willing myself to not burst into tears. I’ve managed to get away with my plan of essentially living on campus for four days, but the Campus Security guy must have gotten suspicious after seeing me asleep in the same place three nights in a row. I’ve been showering in the on-campus gym and living off packets of instant ramen, rationing what little money I have because I still haven’t found a job.
