Chapter 6

Why am I staring at my phone? Gabriel tossed it onto the glass coffee table and winced at the noise. He was surprised he hadn't either cracked the table or the phone. He'd dropped Rowan off at home, then turned around and driven back to the club. Spent five minutes sitting in the car, then because he couldn't muster up an ounce of enthusiasm, he'd gone home.

Home?

Was it?

He wouldn't call his sterile box of an apartment a home. But then, if he was honest, he didn't know what home even looked like. He rented the apartment because it was close to work, but when the world had changed and working from home became mandatory for those fortunate enough to be able to do so, he found he didn't miss his old life. He'd even found extra time to tinker with his stories.

When he'd first started writing—thanks to a mixture of frustration and needing a stress reliever—he'd thought he could write high fantasy because he liked reading it.

Six months and barely a hundred pages in, he had drunk nearly two bottles of wine one evening on his own and ceremoniously burned his printed manuscript.

He'd thrown himself into his job once more and garnered three new clients. He actually worked for a non-profit that matched people who, for whatever reason, didn't have a degree, but were very capable of doing a job and yet were immediately disqualified from the hiring process because of that simple fact. He had a lot of very high-end multinational companies on board. He was good at what he did.

But his passion for his career had waned, and he knew both his clients and the people that needed a chance would eventually suffer.

He hadn't had the opportunity to save money really, because his father had made a lot of financial mistakes and because of Clare he had to prop them both up financially. So even taking six months off from working full-time was an impossible dream unless Clare got the financial assistance they'd applied for. He knew that at thirty-one, he needed to get his act together. Especially as Clare was thriving. The sale of his dad's house had covered the debts, and while Clare got financial assistance, he still helped to top things up.

He wanted her somewhere nice, and that meant paying a premium. At least he wasn't cleaning up after his dad's bad financial decisions any longer, though.

One evening a few weeks ago, he'd finished work early for once because his client had called in sick, and he'd played around with a completely different kind of book on his computer. He was nine chapters in but felt like it was some sort of dirty secret.

He'd taken something he knew everything about—BDSM—and something he knew nothing about—romance—and well, it had started out as a male dominant and a female sub, but after three chapters the sub had become male.

And he didn't know what to make of it. He happily played with both, but this felt right.

He'd spent a lot of time researching and decided he would publish it himself. The thought of a publisher or an agent turning him down gave him hives. Which made no sense, really. Gabriel was usually very confident, but this story had turned him into an insecure teenager trying to navigate liking girls but also having a huge crush on the debate captain—a boy. Which reminded him of school, and his own problems there and at home.

He didn't remember his mom very much. She'd divorced his dad after Clare had been born and then two years later had died in a car wreck. Clare had come to live with him and his dad, and Gabriel had become a fierce big brother.

He'd never thought it was odd at the time, but it had become clear later that Clare and he had different biological fathers, which is why he supposed the kids had been split initially. To his dad's credit, he didn't hesitate to accept Clare, and Gabriel finally came into his own as a protector. He grinned. Clare just called him bossy.

Which, he supposed, had contributed to him becoming a dominant in a lot of ways, except since his dad's death he wasn't getting the same satisfaction as he used to. Which was ridiculous, as technically, he had more time.

His phone dinged with a notification and he practically lunged for it. Seeing it was from Rowan allowed him to release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Hope this is ok. You said to text."

"Good boy for letting me know."

Gabriel stared in horror at the text he had sent without thinking. Good Boy? Good fucking Boy? He was tempted to throw the phone again, but this time neither it nor his table would survive. Rowan wasn't a boy. He was a little. And Gabriel had no business calling him anything but his name. Good Boy in the club setting was more intimate. He only used it as a way of showing praise or pleasure.

Gabriel sternly told himself to calm down. He'd never done a scene with Rowan, obviously, so the boy wouldn't know he reserved that phrase for anything other than a special greeting. He glanced down at his phone again and saw the dots indicating Rowan was replying.

He smiled as it seemed to take some time, but eventually he got a response.

"Thank you for taking me home. It was very kind of you."

Gabriel stared at the phone. That was polite. Careful. Distant. Rowan was shy, but he never hid. Every emotion he felt was plain to see. He leaned back and thought about the looks he'd seen on Rowan's very expressive face. Pain, certainly. It was unconscionable in their club—a supposedly safe space—that there would be bullies, but Gabriel had witnessed and rescued Rowan from just that situation a few months ago with that little shit, Matthew. Then tonight. The hurt and shame from Rowan had been palpable.

He understood how it had happened now that he'd had a chance to calm down, but he tried to remember if he'd ever seen Rowan happy?

He"d seemed content in the little room with his friends, but Gabriel suddenly envisioned what Rowan would look like not just content but blissed out. His pale skin would be rosy. Maybe with little beads of sweat resting above his plump upper lip. His huge, pretty eyes, surrounded by those thick, gorgeous lashes, would be blown wide.

Then Gabriel's imagination turned to how he would get him to look that way. Rowan seemed made to please. He needed precise instruction, but any small word of praise would light him up. He would be so responsive to the lightest touch. Gabriel could imagine teasing responses from him. Rowan didn't need pain or punishment because he would never put a foot wrong.

Gabriel tried to imagine him in bed. He would have pajamas. He wouldn't dream of sleeping naked, too shy.

"Are you in bed? Do you have your pajamas on?"

What the actual fuck? What was he doing? Gabriel shuffled and pulled his leather pants away from his crotch to give himself a little room. Hell, he stood and stripped. His chest was too tight anyway.

He watched the little dots on the screen greedily.

"Yes."

"Yes? What the fuck was that? He needed details. What could he ask without crossing a line?

"Bet you have a favorite pair."

Rowan was a little. Talking about a favorite pair of pajamas was a thing, right? He wasn't crossing a line. He just wanted Rowan to feel he could talk to Gabriel about regular "little" things. Like friends did. They had stuffies. Did they talk about their favorite bear? Was that verging on creeper territory?

"I have my Nemo ones on."

Fuck.Gabriel just about melted. Except his cock. His cock was rock hard. It must be because he had been at the club but hadn't played and definitely hadn't gotten off.

And then he wondered if Rowan had ever gotten off. Probably by his own hand, but what about someone else's? Not that he could ask that, or even help with it. That would be going too far. He'd seen the longing in Rowan's eyes. Knew that because of him watching out for Rowan, he probably had a bit of a crush that it wasn't fair to encourage.

"Thinking of getting my own place."

Gabriel stared at the screen and his fingers were moving before he knew it.

"That's great. An apartment? It would need to be near college for you."Gabriel huffed silently. Full words. He'd replied in the same way Rowan had, not an abbreviation in sight.

He smiled as the dots appeared, wishing he dared ask Rowan to FaceTime him. He'd like to see his face.

"Yes. Father will help me look, but I don't know where to start."

"Do you have a realtor?"

"No."

Gabriel knew at least one from the club, but he wasn't going to muscle in if Rowan's dad was helping him. He leaned back and stared at his empty walls.

"I have an apartment smack bang between the club and UNC if that's where you go to school? It's a gated community and the apartments look like townhouses. 4 to a block."

The dots seemed to start and stop for some time, so Gabriel added,

"You would be welcome to visit this weekend to get an idea."

"I like the idea of a ground floor one."

Which wasn't a yes or a no.

"Mine is upstairs, but all the layouts are the same. I get a large balcony."

Rowan was silent for what seemed forever after that, and Gabriel wondered if he'd overstepped again.

"That is very kind of you."

Gabriel shrugged to himself. He couldn't tell whether Rowan was too shy to ask or too shy to say no.

"How about you come Saturday morning? I can either pick you up or send you my address. 11am?"

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

Gabriel smiled. What would Rowan be like a little less formal? He'd love to see him relaxed.

"No problem. Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you. I can drive."

Gabriel grinned and sent his address and the code for the gate.

"Come hungry. I make a good omelet." Then he sent a smiley face emoji and wished him a good night.

"Good night. See you Saturday."No emojis, but Gabriel didn't mind. He looked at his cock, which didn't look like it was going to go down anytime soon, so he got up and went into his bedroom to sort himself out.

For some reason, even though he usually fell asleep right after that, he ended up back on his phone and on some of his favorite sites. He didn't look at whips, though. For some reason he was drawn to a Daddy/little section. Then he scrolled to a general store.

And spent a really long time looking at cartoon fish.