12. Kaino

12

Kaino

Odd though it may be, given my Finnish heritage, Mediterranean cuisine is my comfort food. Give me all the wine, cheese, olives, and bread, and I’m happy. Throw in some baklava, and I’m in heaven. And with my stress about tonight’s expected topics of conversation, I opt for at least this one guaranteed pleasant experience. Holding the restaurant door open for Xander, I wave him inside, give my name, and we follow the employee to a table. We’re immediately served hummus and pita, and I sigh happily as the creamy, garlicky goodness hits my tongue.

Xander’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the terra cotta colored walls and tiled mosaics. The low lighting is cozy but not so dark that we can’t see the beautiful decor. “This is lovely. It’s comfortable. Homey in an unexpected way.”

“It’s not upscale and flashy, which I like, and the menu is somewhat limited, but it’s all delicious.”

“No coconut?” Xander winks at me, and warmth settles in my chest. It’s very sweet that he remembers my allergy and is concerned enough to mention it.

“Not here, anyway. There are some Mediterranean recipes that have coconut in them, but none of those are on the menu.” We look over the offerings and quickly place our orders. Once the server leaves us with two lovely tulip glasses of steaming tea, it’s time to talk. “So, I promised you an explanation.”

“Explanation about what?” Xander’s confusion is expected. Our conversation about my aversion to touch was several weeks ago. In my haste to address the topic tonight, I’ve done a poor job segueing into it.

“My dislike of touch. At least from those I’m not close with.”

He frowns. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m absolutely willing to listen to whatever you’d like to share, but I respect that you don’t like touch, and that’s enough for me.”

He’s indicated as much before, through actions and acceptance, but hearing the words relieves some of the tension I’ve been holding. “I appreciate that. Thank you. But over the past several weeks, we’ve become friends, and as such, I believe it’s important for you to know.” When Xander’s brows draw down, and his eyes fill with worry, I realize I’m painting a dire and inaccurate picture. “It’s nothing horrible. There’s no past trauma, though that’s a very common reason some people are touch averse. But in my situation, it’s most likely hereditary. And a bit environmental. My mother was the same.”

Xander frowns. “Was?”

I nod. “Both she and my father passed several years ago. I was a late in life baby. Unexpected, actually. They’d given up trying and were both in their early fifties when I came along. My father died of a heart attack about five years ago, and my mother died from anaphylaxis not long after. She had a severe allergy to bee stings.”

It’s not difficult to put those puzzle pieces together, and understanding lights his eyes. “She was stung?”

I nod. “She didn’t have her EpiPen with her and wouldn’t let the paramedics near her. By the time they were able to administer the epinephrine, it was too late.” Xander looks stricken, and I try to comfort him. “I wish it had been different, but it’s what finally motivated me to deal with my own anxiety surrounding touch. I’m much better than I was.”

“How does that work? Is it a sensitization thing? You let people touch you and gradually get used to it?”

I shrug. “In a way. I experience anxiety when imagining touch from strangers. Actual touch from someone I don’t know feels like sandpaper on exposed nerves. But as I get to know someone, and trust grows, the anxiety decreases.”

“Which is why you can let Bjorn touch you.”

I nod again. “We have a history. A positive one. And he’s never done anything to make me question that.”

Xander sobers. “When you were in the hospital room with Bjorn, you didn’t touch him. Is that because you hadn’t seen him in a while, or was it something else?”

My internal conflict that day had been excruciating, and I feel the echoes of it in my chest. “I wanted to touch him. I almost did, but I couldn’t. You’re right, it was the time gap. I needed to get comfortable with him again before touching was alright. In my head, I knew it would be okay, but anxiety doesn’t care. It eventually resolved itself, like I knew it would. And thankfully, it didn’t take long. Though I didn’t think it would. Bjorn hasn’t changed much.”

Xander snorts. “He’s still a big golden retriever.”

That startles a laugh from me because it’s so close to how I’ve imagined Bjorn’s alter ego. “More like a Newfoundland. He’s huge, exceptionally sweet, and loves to cuddle, but he’s all about the mothering and overprotectiveness.”

Cackling, Xander slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, you’re right. That’s him. He even drools sometimes when he sleeps.” His eyes sparkle, and he shakes his head. “We can never tell him.”

“We can never tell his siblings, or they’ll tease him unmercifully.”

Xander snorts. “We’re totally telling them, aren’t we?”

I shrug, not even hiding my smile. “We’ll see.”

Xander’s wicked grin softens, and his eyebrows raise. “With you and me, we’re friendly, and I think at this point, we’re friends. So, you’re okay with small touches. You’ve been touching my arm and my hand now and then.”

“Yes. You and I are getting there. I enjoy being with you. Talking to you. We have a lot of similar interests.” I look into his eyes, holding his gaze. “The more comfortable I get with you, the more I get to know you as a person, the less anxious I am about touching you, or being touched by you.” His gaze hasn’t left mine since I started talking, and the light blue of his eyes is almost completely covered by the black of his expanding pupils. He likes the idea of me touching him. Or of him touching me. Possibly both. The air charges between us, and it’s not something I typically feel, so it catches me a bit off guard. It’s heady, and I don’t hate it.

“It’s the same for me.” Xander shakes his head. “I’ve had my share of dates and a few boyfriends over the years, but teaching requires a lot of time, and I’m not the most patient person. Bjorn loves to tease that I’m needy and demanding.” He grins while saying it, but I can hear the defensiveness in his tone. “So finding and keeping a long-term boyfriend has been challenging. If I may be frank, it’s very disconcerting to be attracted to two people at once.” The relief I feel at his admission is a shock. I hadn’t realized I was so worked up about it. But hearing Xander acknowledge that he’s attracted to both Bjorn and me—I assume the second person is me—makes me feel less deviant. “It’s equally strange to have both individuals interested in return.” He turns his hand so his palm is up and places it in the middle of the table, inviting me to take it. “Only if you want. I won’t be offended if you decline.”

Slowly, I reach across and place my hand in his, palm down, and find myself exhaling a long breath as my anxiety all but disappears. “I am attracted to you. And to Bjorn. And I’m not sure what to do with that because I’m not usually attracted to anyone .” Xander raises an eyebrow. “I’m demisexual. I don’t feel attraction until I’ve established an emotional bond with that person. I’m naturally a bit of a porcupine and don’t allow a lot of people to get close. So it makes it difficult to form those kinds of connections.” If Xander was a peacock, his tail feathers would be fanned out and shaking right now. I fight a smile. “I can see you’re very proud of yourself.”

His grin says it all. “I am. It’s not every day that a very attractive, highly intelligent person with trust issues tells you they’re comfortable enough with you to find you sexually attractive.”

I burst out laughing. “You are such a brat. Of course that’d be what you take away from everything I said.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” He leans back in his chair, smirking confidently, and it’s incredibly sexy. When I don’t say anything, his smirk turns into a self-satisfied grin. “Thought so.”

Tentatively, I give his hand a slight squeeze, almost trying it out. It feels good, and he gently squeezes mine in return. “So, what does this mean? I’m attracted to you and Bjorn. You’re attracted to me and Bjorn. What do we do about that?”

He shrugs. “Hell if I know. This isn’t a situation I’ve ever been in, so I’m not prepared to formulate a plan. I guess we talk to Bjorn and find out how he’s feeling about the situation. If he’s only attracted to one of us, or neither of us, then we have an answer.” Xander bites his lower lip, looking up at me through his ridiculously long lashes. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hot. In theory, at least. And I do love attention. The idea of two gorgeous people attracted to me, wanting to be with me, doting on me—because of course you will—is wildly arousing.”

I laugh. “Of course we will.”

Xander’s coy look fades, replaced by worry. “But in practice, I’m not sure I’m built for that. There would definitely need to be ground rules.”

I nod in complete agreement. “I’m taking that to mean you aren’t absolutely opposed to the idea of polyamory.” Xander’s eyes go wide, like he hadn’t considered that’s what we’re discussing. “Was that not what you meant?”

He blinks several times and raises one eyebrow, mouth quirking to the side as he considers the concept. “I am”—he’s clearly searching for the appropriate word and seems to give up—“not opposed. Though I guess I hadn’t considered this to be something that had a label. And it’s probably one of those things where, once you become aware of it, you see it everywhere. Even if you hadn’t seen it at all, prior to that instance.”

“Polyamory isn’t rare. It’s just not as in-your-face as monogamy. Many polycules keep things low-key because of other people’s judgments. There are still a lot of places where, if it isn’t outright illegal, it’s frowned upon. Some people have to hide it from their employers for fear of being fired.” Xander gets a bit pale. “Are you worried about that?”

“I’m up for tenure, and the dean of my division already doesn’t care for me because I’m gay. If I was in a polyamorous relationship and he found out, I’m guessing he wouldn’t approve.”

That’s definitely something to consider in all of this. “He’d make trouble for you?”

“He’d probably try.” Xander scowls. “He’s such an old curmudgeon. From the Stone Age.”

Unfortunately, I’m all too familiar with the type. “There are many studies which posit that Neanderthals weren’t monogamous.”

Xander’s nostrils flare, and his eyes darken, but not from anger. “Your use of language is so damned sexy.”

Electricity runs down my spine, and I lean toward him, moving without thinking. “So, you’re saying you’re sapiosexual?”

He moans softly. “Intelligence is my kryptonite.”

That makes me snort. “Okay. Good to know.” The truth is, I’m probably sapiosexual as well, but I’m certainly not going to give Xander that kind of fodder. He’s well aware of his intelligence and doesn’t need any fuel for his ego. “But back to your tenure situation. What do you want to do?”

He frowns, considering, before setting his jaw and waving his hand dismissively. “If he makes trouble, I’ll take it up with the provost. If the provost won’t hear me out, then I’ll go above her and call a panel of my peers to review the situation.” His cheeks pink, and he glances away, almost embarrassed, before he refocuses on me. “But I’m not going to let a job derail what could be a very important relationship. Assuming Bjorn’s on board and that’s where we end up.”

“Fair enough. And I agree. We talk with Bjorn, see what he wants to do, and if he’s in agreement about moving forward, seeing what this is, then we discuss ground rules.”

Our food arrives, interrupting the conversation momentarily, but after a few minutes of depositing plates and digging in, Xander leans his elbows on the table and eyes me speculatively. “So, when we were talking about your dislike of casual touch, you said ‘under most circumstances.’ Under what circumstances is that not the case?”

I consider giving him a fluff answer. Something to placate him. We’ve covered a lot of very personal, potentially volatile topics already, and somehow we’ve avoided the landmines. I’m not sure I’m ready to step directly on one to determine if it’s another dud or one that blows up in my face. But I suppose, if we’re going to pursue a relationship, he and Bjorn are going to find out at some point.

“Shibari.”

Xander blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t experience anxiety while participating in shibari sessions.”

His brow wrinkles, and his eyes take on that slightly distant thinking stare. “We’re talking about Japanese rope tying, right?” When I nod, he cocks an eyebrow. “That doesn’t bother you? How does that work? Isn’t there a lot of touching required?”

I nod. “But I’m the rope top. I’m in complete control. I’m initiating. I choose which patterns to make, where to tie the knots, where on the body the rope goes. Somehow, my brain doesn’t interpret that as a threat.”

Xander looks thoughtful. “Is that why you got into it? As a form of touch with control?”

“Yes.” But it’s also not the whole story. “It was a way to desensitize my anxiety around touch and practice trust. There’s a huge amount of faith required between the rope top and the rope bottom. I need to know they’ll tell me if the discomfort is too much. And they need to be confident that I know what I’m doing and won’t hurt them permanently. It also stimulates my brain in ways I never expected. It’s like conducting an orchestra. There are so many parts to keep track of. Timing to keep in mind. One wrong note, and the entire symphony is ruined.”

Xander blanches. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

I shake my head. “In a way, it’s freeing. There’s a kind of euphoria in such intensity. I’m hyperfocused, paying attention to the feel of the rope in my hands, where I’m touching, what I’m tying, how the rope bottom is reacting, changes in their breathing. Everything else fades away, and I’m completely in the moment.”

“And you do this a lot?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “No. As I said, there’s a trust factor, and the last model I was comfortable working with moved out of state about six months ago. I still practice tying the knots, but I rarely work with live models.”

Xander chews his bottom lip. “And what about the other things?” His gaze darts to the side, but he forces himself to meet my eyes as he lowers his voice. “The dom thing.”

My mouth quirks up at the corner. I was wondering when he’d get around to asking about it. “There is no dom thing, Xander. It’s not something I actively seek out, though I’ve been involved in scenes before.”

“Sorry. I’m not at all familiar with terminology, or probably even accurate concepts. What I know is from mainstream media, which probably gets it as wrong as it gets everything else.”

He’s not incorrect. “Xander, is that something that interests you?” I keep my voice even, not wanting him to feel awkward about telling me anything.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. A big part of me is screaming no. Absolutely not. I have no desire to be subjugated or humiliated.” He fidgets in his seat, and it’s the most discomposed I’ve ever seen him. “But when you pin me with your gaze and tell me to behave—” He swallows, and I watch his larynx bob up and down several times before he continues. “—it’s hot.”

This is fascinating, and it takes focus to remain calm and almost passive with my questions. But again, I don’t want to embarrass him into silence. “What do you like about it?”

Xander sips his tea and fidgets with the cup. “You’re completely focused on me when I act up.”

That agrees with what I’d been thinking. “Okay. And is that what you’re trying to accomplish? Getting my attention?” Xander tentatively nods, and I’m not sure if he’s figuring this out as we’re talking, or if he’s embarrassed to admit his motivation. “Once you have my attention, how do you see that playing out?” Again, I keep all judgment out of my tone. This is obviously new to him and difficult. I don’t want him to feel anything negative about his desires.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Pink tinges his cheeks, and he shakes his head, a bit bewildered. “I want to keep it. I like how you look at me.” His pulse beats rapidly in his neck, and his pupils are blown wide.

My entire body gets warm. “How do I look at you?”

Xander clears his throat. “Like if I do something you don’t approve of, you’ll, I don’t know… it sounds so cliche. But, like you’ll spank me or something.”

Interesting. Xander doesn’t seem like someone who would be into pain, and he’s already said he’s not into degradation. “Is that something you like? Spanking?”

Xander quickly shakes his head. “I don’t think so? That’s what has me so confused. I’ve never done that with anyone, and it always seemed so humiliating. I’m definitely not into that.”

No. In fact, I’d bet he was bullied in school. It would explain what I know about his personality. “And is that why you stop being a brat?”

He looks conflicted, like he’s not sure of the answer. “Maybe? Or maybe I don’t want to cause a scene.”

“Xander.” My heart pounds in my chest. This is uncomfortable for him, but he’s sharing something very private with me. Showing me a huge amount of trust to not laugh or judge, and it makes me feel closer to him.

“Yes?”

I gently squeeze his hand and lower my voice. “Do you want to be good for me?” His not quite silent gasp tells me everything. “Would you want to be rewarded for being good for me?”

He swallows hard, and his voice comes out barely louder than a whisper. “Maybe. What would that look like?”

And just like that, I have a huge piece of the Xander puzzle in my hand. He’s a creature of comfort. He loves attention, and I’d bet large sums of money that he adores being praised. “Whatever you want. It could be a hot bubble bath with soft music and a glass of wine. Candles.” Xander hangs on my every word and I do my best not to smile. “Or maybe a full body massage.” He leans in, nodding his agreement. “Or I could read to you. One of your favorite books, maybe.”

His eyebrows raise, and his lips part in surprise, like the idea is new but not unpleasant. “Oh. You’d do that?”

I lift his hand and hold it between both of mine. “For you? Yes. If you’re good for me.”

His eyes go soft, and his entire body relaxes. “But what would you get out of it? That’s the part I don’t understand.”

I shrug, pulling my hands back, picking up my tea and taking a sip. “I’m a pleasure top. I get satisfaction from giving my partners pleasure. While I can enjoy touch with people I trust, and even experience sexual pleasure and release with a partner I’m emotionally connected with, I’m equally fine as an external participant or even an observer. But indulging my partner, giving them the things they want, is satisfying on a deep level. Many times, it’s more satisfying than sex.” Xander doesn’t seem completely surprised by my answer, and I wonder if he might be the other side of that coin. “I’m just as happy with my own touch as that of a partner.”

“So, you like to watch?” Thankfully, there’s no judgment in his tone.

“I do enjoy more voyeuristic participation. Directing the scene, guiding the participants to the heights of pleasure, sometimes joining in. But most times, I don’t need that.”

He considers, and then his cheeks blush. “So, would you want to watch Bjorn and me together? Tell us to do things to each other?”

I can tell the thought holds great appeal for him. “That excites you.”

He shrugs. “Maybe a little.” He looks me in the eyes. “If it was you doing the watching, yes. But not if it was anyone else. You wouldn’t feel left out?”

“Not at all. In fact, I would very much enjoy that.” Just thinking about it has my cock thickening and a dull ache thrumming through my balls.

“I think I would, too.”

“So, we should talk with Bjorn.”

“About the three of us dating?” Xander nods enthusiastically. “Yes. I really think we should. And soon.”