21. Twenty

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I wiped down my station, the sharp sting of disinfectant filling the air. It had been one hell of a day.

Bad memories clawed at me—campfires, tear-streaked faces, raised voices. My grip tightened around the rag as I scrubbed harder.

The need coiled low in my gut, a familiar ache, the urge to lose myself and forget. I could already picture it—some faceless hookup found on Grindr, rough hands pinning me down, using me until I was nothing but a receptacle for their pleasure. Until my mind went quiet and numb.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the craving away. I was better than this—stronger. The sins weren’t mine to atone for.

The bell over the tattoo shop door jingled and my head snapped up. Relief crashed over me like a wave when I saw it was Shepherd.

“Hey there,” Shepherd said in an unusually cheerful tone.

Something about his demeanor made me pause. His posture was looser, more relaxed, lacking the rigid control Shepherd usually exuded. The smile on his face was easy and bright, crinkling the corners of his dark eyes.

I blinked, thrown by the change. “Uh, hey,” I replied eloquently, tossing the rag into the nearby laundry bin.

Shepherd strolled over, hands in his pockets. “You must be Eli,” he said, voice lighter than Shepherd’s usual baritone. “I’m Bryce, one of the alters. Glad we can finally meet!”

I stared at him, trying to process what he’d said. I’d met Keres, and I knew there were other parts in there, but this was the first time one of them had come to the forefront in my presence.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bryce asked with a cheeky grin. “I know, I know, I'm a lot more fun than the big boss man. Don't worry, I'll try not to blow your mind too much.”

He winked and fired finger guns at me. Honest to God finger guns. A surprised laugh bubbled up from my chest. I couldn't picture Shepherd ever doing something so ridiculous and carefree.

“No, sorry, I just...” I fumbled for words. “It's nice to meet you too, Bryce. This is new for me.”

Bryce grinned wider. “No worries, man. DID takes getting used to.” He clapped my shoulder, warm and brief. “Shepherd needed a little break from the stress. We talked it over, and both thought it was high time I introduced myself properly. Sorry for throwing you for a loop.”

I nodded slowly, still processing. It was a lot to wrap my head around, but I reminded myself that at his core, this was still Shepherd. The man I'd grown to trust and care for, even if he wore a different face at the moment.

“It's okay,” I said, mustering a small smile. “I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to come meet me. Guess this means I'm officially part of the inner circle now, huh?”

Bryce laughed. “Welcome to the club, my dude. We should get matching jackets. Or tattoos!”

His eyes sparkled with mirth and I found myself grinning back, charmed despite myself. Shepherd's intensity could be a lot sometimes, but Bryce's lighthearted energy was infectious.

“Come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Bryce said, jerking his thumb toward the door. “Unless you’re still disinfecting. I can keep busy—maybe get a tramp-stamp tattoo that says ‘Juicy.’ Thoughts?”

“Shepherd would kill us both if I let you do that.”

With a final glance around my station to ensure everything was in order, I headed for the door. Cherry and Ketchup were huddled over the reception desk, poring over a new tattoo magazine.

“I'm heading out,” I announced.

Cherry looked up, her hair almost glowing under the buzzing lights. “See ya tomorrow, Eli. Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” she said with a wink.

Ketchup snorted, not bothering to glance up from the magazine. “That ain't saying much. Later, man.”

I waved goodbye and followed Bryce outside.

The drive back felt different with Bryce at the wheel, one hand steering while he flipped through radio stations until upbeat pop filled the car.

“Ever heard these guys?” Bryce asked, grinning over at me.

I shook my head. “Can't say I have. Shepherd's more of a classical music guy.”

Bryce snorted. “Sometimes I think he was born in the wrong century.”

He cranked up the volume and began singing along to the foreign lyrics, bopping his head to the catchy beat. I watched him, fascinated by how carefree and uninhibited he seemed. It was such a stark contrast to Shepherd's tightly leashed control.

As if sensing my gaze, Bryce looked over at me, still grinning. “So, Eli, when you're not inking people up, what do you like to do for fun? You a movie buff? Gamer? Secret K-pop stan?”

I huffed a laugh, settling back in my seat. “Nah, none of the above. I used to game back before...” I trailed off, memories of my old life threatening to surface. I pushed them back.

Bryce nodded. “Fair enough. What kind of food do you like? I’m starving. We could get takeout, watch Netflix, make a night of it.”

I considered Bryce's suggestion, my stomach growling at the mention of food. It had been a long day and the thought of vegging out on the couch was tempting. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind stopped me from immediately agreeing.

“I should probably start on my chores first,” I said hesitantly, glancing over at Bryce. “You know, since Shepherd isn't here...”

Bryce waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, dude, you're off the hook tonight. Shepherd's taking a mental health day, which means you get one too. Them's the rules.”

I chewed my lip ring, unconvinced. It felt wrong to skip responsibilities, even if Shepherd wasn’t around. He’d given me purpose, stability. The least I could do was hold up my end of the agreement.

“I don't know. Shepherd's pretty big on routine and discipline. I feel like he'd still expect me to get everything done.”

Bryce sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. “Look, I get it. You're a good boy who wants to make Daddy proud.”

I flushed at his choice of words, but didn't interrupt.

“How about this?” Bryce continued, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “We'll tackle the chores together, as a team. Then we’ll veg out and eat junk food the rest of the night. Deal?”

I thought for a second, then nodded. “Deal. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Bryce grinned. “Exactly! Knew you'd come around.” He reached over to ruffle my hair playfully.

I ducked away. “Watch the road, you menace.”

“Yes, dear,” Bryce sing-songed, turning his attention back to driving.

We bantered the rest of the way. By the time we pulled into the apartment’s parking lot, my face ached from smiling.

Chores with Bryce were surprisingly fun. With his playlist blasting, we danced and lip-synced around the house, bumping hips as we cleaned.

When we finished in record time, Bryce flopped onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. “See? Teamwork for the win!” He held up his hand for a high five.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help grinning as I slapped my palm against his. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. Don't let it go to your head.”

“Too late. I'm already drunk with power,” Bryce declared. He grabbed his phone off the coffee table and started tapping away at the screen. “Now, what are you in the mood for? Pizza, Chinese, Thai? Ooh, there's a new sushi place that delivers.”

I settled on the couch beside him, peering over his shoulder at the food delivery app. “I could go for some pizza. With lots of meat on it.”

“A man after my own heart,” Bryce said approvingly. He selected a pizza with five different kinds of meat toppings and added it to the cart, along with an order of cheesy garlic bread and a two-liter of Coke. “Dinner of champions, coming right up.”

After placing the order, Bryce queued up Netflix. “What’re you in the mood for? Action, comedy, or trashy reality?”

I shrugged. “Do you like scary movies?”

Bryce lit up. “Hell yeah! You a horror fan, too?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Used to watch them all the time as a kid, when I could sneak them past my parents. Guess I never outgrew the thrill.”

Bryce’s expression darkened for a second, gone so fast I thought I’d imagined it. “Strict religious upbringing, huh?” His voice stayed light, but the understanding there made my chest ache.

I looked away, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Bryce bumped his knee against mine. “Well, you're in good company. This system is basically a poster child for religious trauma. We should start a club.”

A surprised laugh escaped me. “Right. We could get t-shirts that say: I joined a cult, and all I got was this lousy trauma and a bunch of weird kinks.”

Bryce snickered. “Dibs on making the shirts.” He scrolled through horror options, humming. “Ooh, Night of the Necro-Dentist . Sounds terrible—or great. I’m in.”

I laughed. “Why not? I’m always down for cheesy B-movie action.”

Bryce started the movie and tossed the remote aside, settling back. As the credits rolled, I slouched into the cushions, getting comfortable. The movie was as delightfully terrible as the title suggested. It was about a mad dentist using necromancy to reanimate his patients' corpses and force them to be his dental hygienists for all eternity. The acting was wooden, the effects laughable, but Bryce and I were both riveted.

Twenty minutes in, the doorbell rang. Bryce paused the movie, hopping up to grab the pizza. He returned, the smell of melted cheese and seasoned meat filling the room.

“Prepare your tastebuds,” Bryce said, setting the pizza on the coffee table. “This is gonna rock your world.”

I sat up straighter, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. Bryce flipped open the lid, revealing a pizza positively loaded with pepperoni, sausage, bacon, ham, and what looked like meatballs, all nestled in a blanket of gooey mozzarella. It was a carnivore's wet dream.

“I think I'm in love,” I declared, reaching for a slice.

Bryce grabbed a slice and bit in, moaning. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

We demolished the pizza, washing it down with Coke. By the time Night of the Necro-Dentist ended, I was stuffed, buzzed on sugar and cheesy horror goodness.

Bryce stretched, his shirt lifting to reveal a toned stomach. “That was epic. Terrible, but epic. The floss garrote? Iconic.”

I snickered, feeling loose and relaxed for the first time in ages. “Dude, yes. I’ll never look at floss the same again.”

Bryce rolled his head to grin at me. “So what's your verdict? Biggest waste of film since Battlefield Earth , or underrated cinematic gem?”

“Mmm, tough call. I'll give it a solid six out of ten on the ‘so bad it's good’ scale.”

“Fair.” Bryce shifted, slinging his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder. “You're a man of discriminating taste.”

I shifted closer, letting Bryce’s arm settle across my shoulders, warm and grounding. His warmth seeped through my thin T-shirt, melting away the lingering tension. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this content, this at ease.

With Shepherd, every interaction was charged, heavy with unsaid things and uncrossed lines. Rules stood between us like electrified fences, necessary but isolating. He gave me purpose and stability, but rarely this kind of simple comfort.

I hadn’t realized how much I craved casual touch until now. As another cheesy horror movie played, I leaned further into Bryce, soaking up his affection like a touch-starved cat.

Bryce was happy to indulge me, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my shoulder, raising pleasant goosebumps. Now and then, his low chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against me as a ridiculous scene played out on screen.

During a lull in the action, Bryce shifted, twisting to face me. His other hand came up to brush an errant lock of hair off my forehead, the pad of his thumb grazing my temple. I sucked in a sharp breath.

Bryce's eyes were soft and searching as he studied my face. The pad of his thumb lingered on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Sure. What's up?”

“This... thing between us. The touching, the flirting.” Bryce's voice was low and intimate, meant only for my ears, even though we were alone. “Am I imagining it, or is there something here?”

My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I'd been wondering the same thing all night, trying to decipher the meaning behind Bryce's easy affection and lingering looks. Part of me wanted to brush it off, to deflect with a joke like I always did when things got too real. But another part, the part that craved Bryce's touch like a drug, desperately wanted it to mean something.

I took a shaky breath. “No, you're not imagining it. I feel it too. Whatever this is.”

Bryce's lips curved into a small, pleased smile. “Good. That's... that's good.” His hand slid from my hair to cup my jaw, his calloused palm rasping against my stubble. “I like you, Eli. A lot.”

I turned my face into his touch, my lips grazing his skin. “I like you too, Bryce. More than I probably should, considering we just met.”

“Because of Shepherd?” Bryce asked, brows furrowed.

“Not because of Shepherd. I mean, yeah, it’s a little weird you two share a body. But I like you for you. You’re fun, easy to be around. I feel like I can relax and be myself with you.”

Bryce’s smile widened, his eyes warm with something like relief. “Glad you feel that way. I worried I might be a placeholder for Shepherd.”

“Never,” I said firmly, holding his gaze. “You're your own person. I want to get to know you , Bryce.”

Bryce huffed a soft laugh. “Well, in that case...” He licked his lips, a flash of pink that drew my gaze like a magnet. “Can I kiss you, Eli? I've been thinking about it all night.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Yes,” I breathed, already leaning in. “Please.”

Bryce closed the gap between us, sealing his mouth over mine. The first brush of his lips sent sparks of pleasure racing over my skin. He kissed with the same playful confidence he did everything else, his mouth moving against mine with purpose and skill.

I melted into the kiss, my hands coming up to fist in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. Bryce's lips moved against mine with sensual purpose, his stubble rasping deliciously against my skin. I opened for him eagerly, welcoming the slick slide of his tongue as he licked into my mouth. He tasted like the Coke we'd been drinking, sweet and slightly chemical. I chased the flavor, tangling my tongue with his, reveling in the slick, filthy glide.

Bryce made a low noise of approval, his hand sliding from my jaw to cup the back of my head, holding me in place as he deepened the kiss. His other hand found my hip, gripping tight and tugging until I got the hint and swung a leg over to straddle his lap.

We both groaned at the new position, our bodies aligned from chest to groin. I could feel the thick line of his arousal pressing against mine through our jeans, separated only by a few flimsy layers of fabric. I rocked down instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction.

Bryce tore his mouth away from mine with a gasp. “Fuck, Eli, you're gonna kill me.” His hips bucked up to meet my downward grind, his hands finding my ass and squeezing. “We gotta slow down.”

I whined, trying to chase his lips, but he held me back with a gentle hand on my chest. “Why?” I asked breathlessly, my brain fuzzy with lust.

Bryce smiled ruefully, his hands gentling on my hips. “Because as much as I'm enjoying this, I need to make sure we're on the same page before things go any further.”

I frowned, confusion cutting through the haze of arousal. “What do you mean?”

Bryce sighed, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over my hipbones. “I'm asexual, Eli. Sex isn't my thing.”

I blinked, trying to process that. “You don't like sex at all?”

“It's not that I don't like it,” Bryce clarified. “It feels good, like any other physical activity. I'm just not sexually attracted to people. Sex for me is like... I don't know, going for a jog or eating a good burger. I enjoy it in the moment, but it's not something I crave or seek out.”

I mulled that over, shifting back slightly on Bryce's lap so I could see his face better. He watched me steadily, his expression open and honest, a hint of vulnerability in his dark eyes.

“So when you said you liked me...” I trailed off, not sure how to finish the thought.

“I meant it,” Bryce said firmly. “I like you a lot, Eli. You're funny and smart and easy to talk to. I love spending time with you. Kissing you, touching you, it all feels amazing.”

I sat back further on Bryce's lap, putting some space between our bodies as I tried to gather my racing thoughts. As much as I ached to keep kissing him, to grind against him until we both found release, I knew we needed to talk this through first.

“I'm not sure I fully understand the asexual thing,” I admitted, worrying my lip ring with my teeth. “But I want to. I like you too, Bryce. A lot. And I don't want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable or push you into something you don't want.”

Bryce's smile softened, his hands sliding up to rest on my waist. “Thank you for saying that. I want you to know I'm not sex-repulsed or anything. I do enjoy sex on a physical level. It's more that I don't experience sexual attraction or crave sex. Does that make sense?”

I nodded slowly. “I think so. It's like... sex isn't a need for you, but more of an optional activity you can take or leave?”

“Exactly.” Bryce looked relieved. “So while I’m enjoying this, it won’t be regular for me. Not like with Shepherd or Keres. Also…full confession…I’m vanilla as hell. Not into the kink.”

I nodded slowly, absorbing Bryce's words. It was a lot to process. I'd been so caught up in the heady rush of attraction and desire, I hadn't stopped to consider the complexities of getting involved with someone who shared a body with the man I submissively served.

The mention of Shepherd sent a jolt of guilt through me. He had expressly forbidden me from engaging in sexual activity with anyone else, a rule that extended to Keres as well. But did it also apply to Bryce? Technically, Shepherd had never specified his other alters in that particular restriction.

Still, as I sat there perched on Bryce's lap, our bodies still humming with arousal, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was betraying Shepherd's trust. He was more than just my dominant—he was my rock, my guiding light. The man who'd given me purpose and direction when I was lost. Going behind his back like this, even with one of his alters, felt wrong.

I shifted back, putting more space between myself and Bryce. He watched me with understanding eyes, his hands falling away from my waist to rest on his thighs.

“I'm sorry,” I said quietly, my gaze dropping to my own hands twisting in my lap. “I want this, want you. But if we're going to do this, he needs to know. You two need to talk it out first.”

Bryce nodded, his expression serious but not upset. “You're right. Shepherd and I do need to discuss this, especially given your dynamic with him. I shouldn't have let things escalate without talking to him first.” He reached out to take my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I'm sorry for putting you in this position, Eli. That wasn't fair of me.”

I squeezed his hand back, offering a small, tentative smile. “It's okay. I'm just as responsible. I got caught up in the moment, too.” I slid off his lap to sit beside him again, though I kept our hands linked. “For the record, I do like you, Bryce. Asexuality and all. I want to keep getting to know you, even if sex isn't on the table.”

Bryce's answering smile was bright and warm. “I'd like that a lot,” he said softly, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. “Getting to know each other, spending time together, being close like this. It means a lot to me.”

I ducked my head, a pleased flush creeping up my neck. It was novel, someone wanting more than my body or my willingness to bend to their desires. With Shepherd, submission and service defined our dynamic—valued, but transactional.

With Bryce, it felt different. Simpler, in a way, but no less profound. The potential for a true connection, a bond based on mutual understanding and affection rather than rules and roles.

We sat in silence, hands linked, basking in quiet intimacy. The horror movie played on in the background, exaggerated screams and squelches oddly fitting the emotions swirling between us.

Finally, Bryce gave my hand a final squeeze before releasing it. “As much as I'm enjoying this, we should probably call it a night. It’s getting late.”

I stood and moved toward the door, but paused in the doorway, turning back to him. “Goodnight, Bryce.”

“Goodnight, Eli.” His voice was soft, sincere, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

I slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, my heart still racing as I walked to my own room. Once inside my room, I leaned against the door, letting out a slow breath as I processed everything that had happened. The whole day had been a roller coaster of emotion, but I was glad it’d ended on a good note. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.

I also hoped Shepherd would be back tomorrow. No offense to Bryce or Keres, but I needed to talk to Shepherd. If the evening with Bryce had made me aware of anything, it was how much I missed physical intimacy with someone after going a few weeks without sex. I was tired of it, and something needed to change. If Shepherd wasn’t ready to take that step with me, maybe he’d be open to letting me explore that with one of his other alters.