There is silence between the two, in the bathhouse, the thick steam clinging to them both, making blonde waves damp, making blonde curls tighter.
“I’ll stay here in silence with you, but I had assumed you called me here for a reason other than my company.”
“She learned pain, from you. And how to make it sweet,” he murmurs. “Because you taught her to understand her own, and her submission. You taught her how to feel, all over again.”
“She was one of my best,” Grey says softly.
“Help me,” he whispers, looking at his hands. “Help me. I’m looking for something, and I’m lost,” he explains. “I thought I could find it in.. in.. in every–in every person I fucked, or in whoever fucked me, but it’s not there,” he says, his laugh bitter and ashamed.
“I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”
“I don’t. I don’t, but I need this. Give me–give me something, anything — I need to feel,” he whispers.
“You’re too willful.”
“Break me.”
The sharp intake of Grey’s breath, drawn through his teeth, was often the sound the other made, when he was suddenly, violently aroused. “As you wish.”
