COMPLETED | Take Me Down The Rabbit Hole (BDSM | 18+)

XXX

That afternoon, Aspen got the big storage box full of Thea's holiday decor and set it up while Thea sat on the couch, ordering him around.
Occasionally, she'd stop him from running around and offered him a piece of brownie decorated with chunks of peppermint candy and green sprinkles.
Aspen gratefully took every piece that he was offered, mentally adding another workout session at the gym to his calendar so Alan wouldn't chastise him for "letting himself go all weekend" like he would with Spencer. - Not that Aspen was doing that, anyway.
By the time he was done with the decor, Thea had added another item to his to-do list: Make dinner.
All this time, she's sat on the sofa, her feet kicked up, and had watched him do his thing while she was busy scribbling away on a notepad.
At first, Aspen thought she was taking notes on how fast he was able to incorporate every piece of decor into the living space that Thea had already established for herself, but a glance at her notebook had revealed to him that she was busy sketching out another idea for a cake.
Aspen stretched before he put the storage box back in the storage closet in the hallway.
His mind was still reeling with the things that Thea had told him earlier.
Was it really true that Alan didn't know how to respect personal boundaries? Well, he supposed it might be as true as anything, since the first time Alan had introduced him to cockrings, he hadn't left the bathroom only to have Aspen trek across the hallway completely exposed.
It hadn't mattered to Aspen then, but maybe it mattered now.
He poured himself a glass of water and then opened the fridge, surveying its contents before he turned to Thea.
"Mistress."
Paper ruffled and Thea looked up, pushing her unruly green waves from her face. "Yes?"
"What would you like to have for dinner?"
Thea laughed softly - and it betrayed her. "Surprise me," she told him, and Aspen considered banging his head against the fridge's door.
He could cook, but he hated not knowing if the people he was preparing the food for would even like what he was making.
Thea noticed how hesitant he was. "Look, Aspen. This is my fridge, so you can take anything you want, make whatever you want, and I'll eat it. The margin for error on your side is like this," she told him, holding up her hand, pointer finger and thumb almost pinched together. "It's almost non-existent."
"I'm a white man," Aspen deadpanned, and before he could continue, Thea's laugher echoed through the main space of her apartment.
"I might be Mexican," she told him, wiping tears of laughter from under her eyes, "but I've lived in America for a long time and I know that you people don't know how to season your food," she teased.
She put her notebook aside and strolled over, opening a drawer under the stovetop. It rattled with an assortment of glass jars and metal tins as it slid open, each of them with a little sticker on it as a label.
She clapped Aspen's shoulder before she walked around the kitchen island. "Get cookin', good lookin'."
Aspen had stared at her collection of spices, but at her words, he perked up. "You think I'm good-looking?"
Thea had settled back on the couch. "Yes," she said, shrugging. "You're handsome." She tilted her head. "People don't tell you that often, huh?"
Aspen pulled a face, and again, hesitation struck him before the words rolled off his tongue. "Master Alan doesn't like my hair."
Thea nodded. "He doesn't like mine either."
Aspen stared at her. "But- Your hair is really pretty! Besides, Spencer's hair makes him look like he's turning into the tin-man from The Wizard of Oz, so really-"
"Darling," Thea interrupted him softly. "Get started on the food. Please."
Aspen's insides squeezed at the term of endearment, and he nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."
Thea gave him a dazzling smile before she kicked her feet back up on the couch table and went back to her sketchpad.
Aspen opened the fridge again, deciding that for the first thing he'd cook he should make something he knew he was actually good at. He grabbed some ground beef, and whatever else he needed for a simple tomato sauce before he closed the fridge again, going on a hunt for some pasta.
He found it eventually, in a shelf left of the fridge, stored away in neat glass jars. "How come she's labeled every single glass jar in this kitchen, but I still have to open a bazillion cabinets to find pasta noodles."
"What did you say?" Thea asked.
Aspen put the knife he'd just grabbed to smash some garlic down on the cutting board. "Your kitchen is huge and I don't know how I'm supposed to find anything-" he complained.
Thea laughed. "Tomorrow you may get the label maker from my storage closet and label the kitchen to your heart's content," she allowed him. "Now, please-"
Aspen turned and noticed that Thea was looking quite tired. He nodded and went back to making their dinner, his mind still busy picking apart the strings that his relationship with Alan consisted of.
He didn't want to have a talk with Alan and confess his undying love to his childhood friend. It would ruin things between them. What if Spencer heard it, and just those four words would negate the promise Aspen had made to him months ago when this whole debacle had first started.
What would Alan say? He was obviously in love with Spencer. They were engaged. They will get married eventually when all this was over and Aspen was on his own again.
"Mistress, if you don't mind me asking, how long do you see your clients-?"
"It depends on the person, Aspen," Thea said, and he could hear her getting up and sitting at the kitchen counter instead. "I have multiple clients who I've been seeing since Leo opened the club." She interrupted herself. "If a relationship like this is what you want for your own time, Aspen, it'll be worth waiting for the right person. I'm still waiting myself."