Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Gael Grimes

Okay, be cool. Be cool. Be fucking cool.

It would be so damn easy to just run down the stairs, call a cab, and forget about House Mclean forever. Actually, the forgetting part would be anything but easy—the running part, however…

I threw away the paper towel and draped my jacket over my arm, then forced myself to leave the bathroom and go up instead of down. Not back to the first floor, not toward a lifetime of loneliness, but up. Up to the third floor…where Santiago was waiting for me. And I wasn’t imagining the relief in his gaze. It was there. Maybe he’d thought I would leave.

“There you are. They’re serving our food now.”

Could this man really want me? He’d been so straightforward that there’d been no mistaking his intent—and yet, I did…? I freaking hated my doubts.

I hurried over to him, and he smiled reassuringly and led the way back to the terrace.

I didn’t see Professor Aavik anywhere. Perhaps he’d left.

I stayed close to Santiago and tried to summon enough courage to, like…make a move or something. Could I grab his hand? No, gosh, too soon. I wasn’t that gutsy. But I wanted him to know. Because of-freaking-course I was interested. How could I not be? Santiago Jones wasn’t merely the bad boy in a leather jacket and devil-may-care charm and scruff and…all the things that made him look so sexy and rough around the edges. He was super sweet and kind and protective.

At first glance, Santiago was the man you didn’t wanna meet in a dark alley.

At second glance, you wanted to beg him to take you there.

He found us a spot near the middle of the terrace, and he nodded hello to Tate, Master Kingsley, Beau, and…I was fairly sure that was Nathan. He was part of the bondage crowd.

“Are Macklin and Walker here today?” Santiago asked.

“No, they had plans,” Tate answered. He smiled politely at me. “Hey, Gael.”

“Hi.” I smiled back.

I squeezed myself in next to Santiago, and he shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the seat across from us.

“For Dean,” he explained.

Oh shit. So he was coming back, huh?

Wonderful.

I pushed my own jacket down and trapped it between my feet, and the next minute or so was delivery mayhem while servers and a couple subs ran around to make sure everyone got their preordered meals. The big plate of fries that ended up between Tate and Master Kingsley looked super tasty.

“Santiago Jones?” Gretchen hollered.

“Right here, hon.” Santiago offered a two-finger wave, and Gretchen handed him a plate, then a soda. He’d ordered a delicious-looking Cuban sandwich and fries.

“So good to see you here, Sir.” She gave him a quick hug from behind.

“Uh-uh, you forgot somethin’, pet.” He tapped his cheek.

She laughed and smooched his cheek.

Lucky girl.

“Gretch, have you talked to Ivy?” Tate wondered.

“Yeah, she’s all about puking.” Gretchen winced. “I hope it passes soon. She can barely hold anything down.”

I knew Ivy. She was also very kind and welcoming. And she was pregnant.

My food and Sprite Zero were next, and my stomach snarled with hunger. I should’ve ordered the fries, but at least I got this cheeseburger. They were awesome!

“That looks fantastic.” Santiago leaned close and inspected the burger.

“So do your sandwich and fries.” I grinned.

He remained close and raised a brow, almost conspiratorially. “You wanna go halfsies?”

He was being playful with me! It filled me with so much…gah…that I wanted to bounce in my seat. But I was a grown man. I did not bounce.

“I won’t say no.” I bit my lip and scooted an inch closer to him, and it pressed my thigh against his.

My stomach fluttered and tightened when he narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer, then pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“Tempting boy,” he murmured.

He was a million times more tempting!

I couldn’t freaking speak, because if I did, I felt like a bunch of gibberish would fall out, so I kept grinning like a loon, and I sort of squeezed his arm. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know what to do with all this exuberance in my body. I wasn’t used to it.

“I c-can’t talk,” I managed to stammer out. I just didn’t want him to get the wrong idea—like, maybe I didn’t have anything to say or…I didn’t know.

“You don’t have to.” He switched gears, and something gentled in his gaze. He put his arm around me. “You overwhelmed?”

“A little or a lot.” I nodded.

He chuckled. “A little or a lot. Got it. We’ll focus on getting some food in us.” He pushed his plate closer to mine, and he kind of closed us in. He turned toward me, and he shifted me toward him, and I liked that very much. “Let’s test the crunch in these fries. They need a perfect crunch.”

I accepted two fries from him, and I merely mimicked his movement. When he bit into one, I did the same.

“Oh yeah, we can count on Macklin.” He nodded in approval.

I chewed and stuck the rest into my mouth, and they were so amazing. Either they were battered or they were double-fried, and they were dusted with herbs and spices.

“Delicious, right?”

I nodded again. “Super delicious.”

He didn’t seem to mind I was a total spaz, and that relaxed me some. I picked up my burger as he did the same with his sandwich, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I didn’t wanna be anywhere else on the planet.

“There’s Dean.” Santiago looked up from our bubble and raised a hand. “Dean!”

Gosh darn it.

I busied myself with my burger and probably looked like an idiot with condiments and cheese everywhere, mouth full, and cheeks puffed out when Professor Aavik sat down across from us with his…oh. Plain chicken with wild rice and a salad.

He was frowning to himself. “Next time, you will have to order for me, Joshua.”

Santiago swallowed what was in his mouth and eyed the professor’s food. “What the fuck is that? That’s so unlike you.”

“It appears my troublemaking little brother-in-law has blacklisted my name from the regular menu,” Professor Aavik grumbled. “The staff was apologetic about it, so I didn’t make a fuss, but this is too much. He’ll be hearing from me. Maybe Walker can tan his hide or somethin’.”

I didn’t understand. Was Macklin not allowing Professor Aavik to order whatever he wanted?

Wait, brother-in-law? Ohhh, so that was their connection. Now I had the full picture—and it made sense. I’d heard Macklin say something about his husband’s brother, but I hadn’t connected the dots. Doh, it was Dean. Professor Aavik was Master Walker’s older brother.

I was so slow sometimes.

“He’s just concerned, Sir.” Tate threw in his two cents.

Concerned about what?

“I understand, but I have limits,” Professor Aavik replied patiently.

I could tell he was holding back his annoyance, so I kept my mouth shut.

“I’m buying pizza on the way home,” he muttered to himself.

“You should try the savory waffles at Gael’s place,” Santiago said. “They’re fucking amazing.”

Oh no, the spotlight should not be on me.

Professor Aavik stabbed some lettuce and chicken with his fork and glanced up, first at Santiago, then at me, then back to Santiago. “Tell me more.”

“I’m listenin’ too,” Kingsley said.

“He runs Waffled over in Georgetown,” Santiago divulged. “They make savory waffles with shit like eggs and bacon, hot chicken, and a beef stir-fry. I’ve tried some, and they’re next level.”

Tate perked up. “That has to be the place Franklin’s always raving about. He didn’t tell me it was where you worked, Gael.”

“He probably doesn’t recognize me.” I shrugged. Truth was, I hadn’t been sure it’d been Franklin—and his partner, for that matter—who came in sometimes, though I’d had my guesses.

“That settles it,” Professor Aavik said, meeting Santiago’s gaze. “We’ll go there after the munch.”

Santiago nodded. “Great plan.” Under the table, he slipped a hand onto my thigh, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You’ll come with us, won’t you, boy?”

I caught Tate smirking, and it made me flush.

“Y-yeah, sure, absolutely.” I cleared my throat and tried to act cool.

Holy crap, I guessed I had plans after the munch.

With Santiago and Professor Aavik.

Oh my God. What if we stayed at Waffled all day and talked history? I mean, he knew who I was now; he knew I was in his class, and I didn’t have to hide anymore. I could finally join the conversation.

As intimidated as I was by Professor Aavik, it would be a dream come true to just sit and talk history with him for hours. Maybe he could sign my books!

* * *

By the time the munch was over, I’d made up my mind. I was going to make Professor Aavik like me so he could be my friend too.

Step one, be less awkward. I should be able to accomplish that in a year or two.

I didn’t freaking know what to say, and here I was…out on the sidewalk, all alone with the professor, while Santiago chitchatted on the stoop with Master Greer and Sloan. They were Corey’s Owners. And Archie’s Owners.

I put on my mittens and snuck a glance at Professor Aavik, who was typing on his phone.

“Would you say this review of the restaurant packs a good punch?” he asked, stepping closer to show me his phone. “I thought I’d text it to Macklin, and if he doesn’t lift this ridiculous ban, I’ll post it everywhere.”

I felt my eyebrows lift, and I scanned the text he’d prepared.

After years of enjoying the cuisine here, I must say I’m disappointed in the owner’s new direction. It reminds me of my early childhood years in Estonia during the Soviet occupation. The staff completely disregarded my order and decided for themselves what I should eat. If this continues, I will not return.

“Yikes. Um, yes, I’d say it packs a punch, Sir,” I said.

“Good. There.” He pressed send. “Now we wait for Macklin’s no-doubt dramatic response.”

I wasn’t sure it could be more dramatic than Aavik’s message.

“Did you really grow up in Estonia?” I found that way more interesting.

He inclined his head. “I don’t have many memories of the place, I’ll admit. My mother fled after my father was murdered.”

Holy shit.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He waved that off. “It’s not a sore topic these days. If anything, it’s a source of pride for my heritage. My father was a great man—a general who committed treason against the USSR.”

That was incredible. He was part of so much history—and if his father dared go against the occupation, he had to have been brave.

“So he was working for the US?” I wondered.

Professor Aavik zipped up his jacket some more and weighed his response. “Covertly, yes. But mostly, he was working for the Estonian people. He and my biological mother dedicated their lives to Estonia’s independence.”

“Wow.” I just stared up at him, wishing I could ask a million questions. I bet I could listen to him for weeks and never get tired. “And then your mom fled with you and Master Walker…?”

“No, just me.” He smiled faintly. “Walker is my foster brother. His mother took me in after mine passed away from breast cancer. Sadly, I don’t have many memories left of her either. She died very young. But…she made enough of an impact to make me the second historian in the family.” His smile held traces of pride. “I suppose I followed in both their footsteps, first my father when I joined the Navy, and then my mother when I became a professor.”

I thought back on the books I had, the ones Professor Aavik had written, and unless I was missing a title or several, he hadn’t written any memoirs. Most of his works were about the Cold War and naval history.

“If you ever teach a class or write a book about your family history, please let me know,” I said. “I have, like, a million questions.”

Professor Aavik chuckled warmly and clasped his hands behind his back. “Most people would fall asleep at the mere thought.”

“Not me.” I stood up straighter and couldn’t help but let some of my excitement fall out. “Postwar Europe is extremely fascinating—partly because we discuss it today as if it happened hundreds of years ago, but it didn’t. I mean, people remember the nineties! The lines on the map were redrawn just thirty years ago.”

He peered down at me with a look that could only be described as approval, so I took that as a win and let out a breath. “I hope I get to see this side of you in class from now on, Gael.”

Eeep!

“I’ll try to find the courage.” I grinned. “When it comes to history, I can usually ramble for hours.”

“I look forward to that,” he replied. “What angle did you choose for your paper?”

I spotted Santiago coming toward us, so I kept it brief—which obviously made me stumble over my words. “Okay, so aside from the Cold War, I think Falklands is an excellent display of the importance of, um, like, you know, a navy using its own strength and what a force it becomes when you add intelligence—like, we had the spy satellite and…yeah. So, in short, the angle is the, uh, the results we see between naval warfare and intelligence when they come together.” Right then and there, Santiago reached us, and I had to wrap things up. “I sort of liken it to the smart bombs we’ve seen since Desert Storm.” Judging by the flash of recognition in Professor Aavik’s eyes, he understood and approved of my analogy. “On its own, the Navy can cause a lot of destruction, but when you add intelligence, you get the precision-guided munitions that strike right on top of the target.”

“I guess I just stepped into the History Lovers group on the Mclean forum,” Santiago joked.

Professor Aavik grinned, and it was the most charismatic grin. “We’ll hopefully revisit that very soon, because I suddenly want to pick Gael’s brain about a paper he’s just started.”

Triumph! Maybe he could like me, too, and want to be my friend.

“No complaints from me,” Santiago said. “This is my brand of geekery.” He turned to Professor Aavik. “Where’s your car?”

“At home. I walked,” he replied.

Santiago lifted his eyebrows. “You walked here from Georgetown?”

Oh. He lived in Georgetown too?

“Yes?” Professor Aavik didn’t see the big deal. I had to side with Santiago. That had to have taken at least an hour! “It’s a nice forty-minute stroll—and the weather is good.”

I scrunched my nose and peered up at the gray sky. And it was what, forty degrees?

Shudder.

“All right. Get in the truck. The little one can sit in the back.” Santiago unlocked the truck and patted me on the head.

I was the little one!

He opened the door for me, and I jumped into the back seat, but before I could put on the seat belt, Santiago was there to do it for me.

I tensed up, surprised by the whole thing.

“Let me know if I’m crossing a line.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek as I heard the belt click into its place.

I sucked in a breath and managed to shake my head. At the same time, I got a whiff of his cologne or aftershave, and the delicious scent gave me a brain fog.

For those brief seconds, he was so close to me, and I couldn’t form a coherent sentence. He put on my seat belt for me. Like I’d seen Colt and Lucas do for Kit.

A drawn-out shiver rolled through me, and I blinked dazedly as Santiago smiled and shut the door.

Since I’d joined House Mclean, I’d listed myself as a Middle because of my core desire to explore a Daddy/boy dynamic. I’d never actually tried anything like it; Caleb wasn’t kinky, and he’d been my first boyfriend. My fantasies came from porn and reading online—and how that specific kind of porn filled me with a sense of this is it. It clicked for me. But I didn’t truly know. However, things like this, when Santiago behaved like a Daddy with me… It evoked a response within me that was strong enough to move mountains. I wanted so badly.

I wanted to throw myself at him and beg him to show me his kinky universe.

Kit seemed convinced that Santiago wanted to play with me, maybe even start something, and considering Santiago himself had told me…I should really get over myself and just scream yes.

I refused to let him slip through my fingers. He’d been so incredibly kind to me, so protective and helpful, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since he’d walked into Waffled. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to make him smile and…do dirty things with him.

I freaking had to make a move. Today. Maybe I could even get him to spend the night with me. How wild was that?

The ride back to Georgetown was uneventful, but I learned some things by listening to Santiago and Professor Aavik. They seemed to go back at least a few years; they were clearly friends, and perhaps there was something more between them as well. If I wasn’t mistaking their chuckles and the flirty smirk on Santiago’s face, they might be interested in each other.

Santiago asked what it was like to be home again, and Professor Aavik said it felt good. He’d enjoyed the West Coast, but it wasn’t for him in the long run. Also, he was “finally reconnecting with Walker,” which meant a lot to him.

“Oh yeah, I remember your, uh…” Santiago chuckled. “Your games.”

“Christ. You and I truly met when I was at my worst,” Professor Aavik responded. “I was way too honest with you.”

“That’s what happens when you get shitfaced.” Santiago was amused, and he glanced my way in the rearview. “One of the first things you’ll notice about Dean is that he’s secretive about pretty much everything. But if you’re like me, you run into him when he’s had too much to drink, and he gives you his biography in the dark corner of a British pub, and then you have a friend for life.”

I grinned, half unsure, half entertained, and 100% wildly curious. “Are you telling me to get my professor drunk, Sir?”

They both laughed.

“For the record, I’m not secretive,” Professor Aavik corrected, down to chuckles. “I’m a tad private.”

“A tad private.” Santiago snorted. “Sure.”

“And not blind,” Professor Aavik added. “You have an agenda.”

What? An agenda?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santiago said. “But on that note, do we need to swing by your place? Do you have everything you need?”

I felt my forehead crease.

The professor sighed. “Yes, Joshua, I have everything I need for a visit to a waffle house.”

“All right, good.” Santiago met my gaze in the rearview again, then side-eyed Professor Aavik. “Since you’re not secretive about anything anymore, maybe we don’t have to tiptoe around the topic and make Gael feel left out?”

Since I was sitting right behind the professor, I didn’t see the look he gave Santiago—but then he turned in his seat and glanced back at me with a furrowed brow.

“It wasn’t my intention to make anyone feel left out,” he said. “Considering the cat’s out of the bag… I’m diabetic—and I had an incident at the house in Mclean the other week. That’s why Macklin is fussing. Walker convinced me to wear a glucose monitor at all hours, and Macklin’s evidently going to treat me like a child.” He faced forward again. “Never mind that I’ve managed on my own perfectly since I was a teenager—one miscalculation and I’m suddenly their in-house patient. It’s ridiculous.”

“They love you,” Santiago reasoned with him.

“Doesn’t mean I’m dying,” Professor Aavik argued. “I appreciate their concern, but I fear they’re the kind who will order me some zero-sugar, low-carb nonsense cake for my birthday. Diabetes doesn’t mean I can’t have sugar—it means I have to be careful with it, and I am.”

I pinched my lips together, processing what he’d said. I remembered Micki, a girl I’d grown up with. She had type 1 diabetes. I guessed that was what Professor Aavik had too since he’d managed it from an early age. Micki’s mom had come to our school once to tell us a little bit about her daughter’s condition—and what we could do if Micki suddenly felt dizzy or, worse, if she passed out.

That had never happened, thankfully, but I was glad I knew, even today.

I should read up more on it, to be safe. Firstly, because I didn’t want my worries to bother Professor Aavik; I mean, we were heading to Waffled right now, and that was certainly not going to be a healthy post-munch snack. But he was a grown man, and he knew best what he could handle, right?

“Let me know if you want me to make any changes to your waffle, Professor,” I offered as a compromise. “There’s actually no sugar in the batter itself—it comes down to the toppings.” We added a dusting of sugar and vanilla to the sweet waffles when they were done instead, leaving the savory waffles unsweetened.

“That’s kind of you, dear, but I indulge so rarely that the only change I’d want you to make is to go extra sugary.” He flashed me a disarming smile in the sideview mirror that I sort of felt everywhere. Damn. “You can also drop the Professor outside of campus. I’m Dean.” He paused. “Or Sir.”

Or Sir.

Yes, please.

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

Sir was what the other subs—those who knew him—called him around the community, much like… I mean, it was simply the respectful dynamics we had among friends in Mclean, and it felt like I was being included now.

I was going to make him the best freaking waffle in the world.

* * *

Oh crap.

The second I peered through the windows at Waffled, I knew we’d have to come up with a new plan. The place was packed.

“Would you mind eating upstairs?” I asked.

“Of course not. I’d prefer it.” Santiago opened the door and smirked at me.

I didn’t know what that smirk meant.

“Do you have another seating area up there?” Dean glanced up toward the top of the house before ducking into the restaurant.

“No, Sir, that’s where I live.” I entered next and gestured for the gentlemen to stand to the side rather than get in line. “If you let me know what you want, I can take care of our order and get us out of here faster.”

“My kind of rock-star treatment.” Santiago put his arm around me and eyed the menu screens.

“Good Christ, that’s a lot of options,” Professor Aavik noted. Dean. Dean. Sir. “My mouth is watering at the mere smell. I don’t know what to choose.”

“I recommend the sampler,” Santiago said. “You get a little bit of everything.”

Dean was sold, and once I’d given him a brief explanation about the sweet versus savory, he requested most of them sweet and just a couple savory. Santiago wanted the same fifty-fifty split as last time, and they gave me free rein to decide the toppings.

Given the number of people crowding the counter, and those waiting for their orders, I decided to give Santiago my keys. Thank goodness I’d tidied up properly. The upside to sleeping poorly. I’d been vacuuming at three in the morning.

“Just go upstairs—I’ll be there soon,” I said. “The code for the alarm system is 7951, and press the OK button right after the code.”

“You got it. Let me know what we owe you for the food—”

“It’s on me,” I insisted.

“Nonsense,” Dean replied. “In fact, it’s on me.”

I suppressed an eye roll. “Fine. I’ll bring back the receipt.” For like a dollar. I looked up at Santiago next. “Would you mind bringing up my mail? I don’t want to drop the waffle containers later. There’s only one mailbox, and it’s right when you enter.” I showed him the smallest key on my key ring.

“No problem. See you soon.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and they made their way out again.

A burst of excitement tore through me, and I hurried behind the counter so I could get started. Des and Olivia were working today, and I made sure not to get in the way.

It took me about five minutes to put together two extra-large samplers that we could share, and I prepared a to-go box with coffee too. I didn’t know what Dean preferred, so I made one black. I had milk upstairs, and I doubted he wanted sugar.

By the time I was ready, I noticed Santiago was waiting for me outside. Was something wrong with the alarm? Oh, maybe the top lock. It jammed sometimes, and you had to jiggle the key a bit.

I stacked three Styrofoam containers, the to-go box with coffees, and a bag of extra toppings in my arms and said goodbye to Des’s and Olivia’s curious faces. Then I returned outside.

“Is something wrong, Sir?”

“Not at all. I just didn’t want you to carry everything on your own.” He evidently thought he should carry everything instead because he didn’t leave me with anything, not even the bag with extra condiments. Instead, he only gave back my keys. “You had a lot of mail, by the way. Do you not check the mailbox every day?”

I snickered. “Uh, no, more like once a week.” I hurried next door and unlocked it, then held it open for him.

“Thank you, little sir.”

I grinned. “You’re welcome, big Sir.”

Part of me couldn’t believe this was happening. And aside from a handful of embarrassing moments on my account, things were running fairly smoothly.

I followed him up the narrow stairs to my place, and I wrestled out of my jacket, shoes, mittens, and beanie as fast as I could. Because while I had cleaned the apartment well enough, I didn’t stow away the sheets and my duvet every morning. Kit was the only one who’d ever visited. We’d sat on my couch and painted 3-D figurines together, and I’d told a white lie that I turned the couch into a bed every night. I mean, it was a big pullout; I’d just never used it. What was the point when it was just me here?

Professor Aavik was inspecting my collection of books, so I made quick work of yanking off my bedding and stuffing it in the corner between the couch and the wall.

Whew.

I was a little out of breath now.

“Impressive library you have here, Gael.” Dean moved on to another shelf and came face-to-face with General. “And you have a cat.”

“Yes, Sir. That’s General. He guards the place.”

Dean chuckled and reached out his hand, and General let him pet him. “What a handsome boy.”

When Santiago set the containers on the coffee table, I took over.

“Please get comfortable, Sir. I’ll take care of this.” I brought out the coffee and then fetched plates and proper mugs and utensils in the kitchen.

It wasn’t every day I had two gorgeous Doms in my home. I had to show them I liked to do this—serve and be useful and caregiving.

When push came to shove, I was so ready to jump into playtime that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d fantasized about a life in BDSM for two years—well, I’d had some dreams far longer than that, but I hadn’t stumbled across actual kink communities until later.

In short, when Dean left—hopefully after several hours of talking history—I wanted Santiago to stay.

Obviously, Dean didn’t have to leave…but I knew he would. He struck me as someone very professional, and I was going to keep my distance so he didn’t see through me like Macklin had. Dean was first and foremost my professor.

“Okay, let’s eat some waffles!” I declared.