Emotional Boys 1990

04

"Come one Esdeath, I want to have my fun too... can't the whole being in charge thing be interchangeable...?" He asks seductively, his voice low and sensual, hoping to convince me.

I'm not to thrilled with the idea of being submissive to anyone, especially not him.

I'm terrified of being out of control, I don't ever want to be left vulnerable in anyway. Period.

"Marshall, let go of me" I hold my ground, not entertaining his words for a second. My tone is serious, not at all flustered as I feel no attraction to the idea.

"Fine, but I want to discuss how things are going to go from here on out, cause I've got boundaries too. I ain't just your toy that you can do whatever with." He grumbles, letting go of my wrists and standing up, grabbing his boxers, along with his pants and redressing himself.

"Let's get dinner, have a makeshift date" he suggests, pulling his shirt back on and heading over to the door.

It's fair for him to want to discuss that, so I make no objection. Sure he's aware that we agreed on me being in control, but that doesn't mean there aren't things that make him uncomfortable too.

I have my right to not want to be dominated, it's not my thing, and he has a right to not want certain things either.

"Sounds reasonable, alright, let's go" I shrug, standing up and composing myself the best I can after the scare.

That being said, I need to punish him for the stunt he pulled. It was out of no where and it freaked me the fuck out.

***

"Burger joint...? I'm not surprised" I laugh dryly, taking my seat on the stool of the high top table we chose.

"I get it, I don't really diverge people's expectations of me..." he grumbles, tapping the top of the table and looking around, anxious about something.

"Ok so uhm- I don't want this shit to be one sided" he mutters, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"What? The dominating thing? I quite like being the boss, so give me one good reason." I ask of him, reaching out quickly for the cup of water a busy waiter sets down suddenly.

"I don't wanna be begging for shit twenty-four/seven... Look, I'm embarrassed to say I'm into it... but I'm also into being in control... I like you, and I want this shit to work, so I think you should compromise a little..." he suggests, looking around wearily, trying to make sure no one can hear us.

A dish clanks.
Mindless empty chatter goes on in the background, meshing into an indiscernible fuzz.
He likes me.
My mind cannot reach a recognizable reaction to his statement. He wants "this shit" to work.
I need to be weary, I don't want him to get too attached... but I suppose I'm also guilty of falling victim myself.

I can compromise... though I don't want to... which is why it's called a compromise. I have to accept a new standard that is lower than desirable, at least for me.

"Fine, I suppose we can switch things up every once and a while, but I'm the one leading this relationship front and center. If I don't like something, I have the right to shut it down, no questions asked" I grumble, looking around and hoping the waitress would come back.

I feel quite numb in this moment, there is nothing else I can do but accept his feelings. I do want to continue this warped relationship with him. He's really attractive, dick is god damn huge for fucks sake and he can mold into any form I want him.

I wish to know more about him rather than what he presents to me sexually. I want to know his passions, plans for the future, his moral foundations.

I crave the intake of knowledge. I want to know him, not just his exterior shell. What makes him tick.