{This story is unfinished but you are welcome to read it and enjoy}
"Two dominants don't work together," I told him sternly, looking at him with uneasy eyes that disagreed with my authoritative tone. A warm sensation I wasn't quite sure I would get...
Just as I had begun to dwindle into sleep beside Liv, my phone let out a muted buzz as the screen lit up with an unexpected caller's name. When I rolled onto my side and retrieved the device, my eyes scanned the name only to be greeted with a muddled version of surprise. I swiftly made a decision on whether or not I felt like bothering my all but attentive mind with such a burden, choosing to be generous and accept the call.
"What do you want?" I asked dully, awaiting his silky timbre of tone to serenade my ear drums. Despite not wanting to awaken my friend who was sleeping soundly on the other side of my king-sized bed, reminiscent of our high school sleepovers, I remained beneath the vigilant, tepid comfort of my sheets.
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The hesitancy that plagued his response amused me slightly.
"Beyoncé, um.. I.." Before he was able to finish, I cut him off with a snappy reply.
"Shawn, it is one in the fucking morning. What do you want?" He sighed with defeated nature. I could hear the subdued shift in his position through the telephone receiver, forcing me to wonder where he was at that very moment. I hadn't spoken to Shawn in two days since our brief portion of the interview I'd promised him, but my mind was so preoccupied organizing the files of any trails we could have left behind for Sudan to follow that it left me on edge to the extent of hardly thinking of the man. Hearing his voice was refreshing, like a can of chilled watermelon Arizona tea in the dead of summer. In no way was Shawn normal by any normal person's standards, but besides Michelle and Kelly, he was certainly as normal as it got for me. I sat erect in my spot on the bed and channeled myself into whatever he had to tell me.
"I called yesterday and you didn't return it, so I went upstairs to see you and Rita said you weren't in. You're always at work so I got kinda.. uh.." I simpered with marginal force when it became apparent that Shawn had called because he was worried about me. At such a stage in my life, I could count on one hand the people who ever found themselves concerned for me. Shawn being concerned about me after all of my bitchy antics and after only knowing each other for two weeks meant something to me that I again hadn't felt in a very long time. I had accepted that it was a take and take world; Everything costs something (S/O SDOD readers), but Shawn's care had seemed to come at no charge.
"You got kinda what?" I inquired, amused.
"I got kinda worried aboutchu, 'aight?" Lord, I had only heard him speak with such hood dialect but one time, and I was quickly discovering that it was the sexiest thing known to mankind. My regard for my sleeping friend dissipated once I had started to remember how thick Shawn's cóck felt inside of me, my walls clutching around him as if I were allowed to call him mine. My hand reached beneath my shirt and began to play teasingly with my nipple.
"Oh," I breathed into the receiver, "do you worry about all of your subs?" I refused to become supple and pliable for Shawn, especially when I knew he possessed the innate quality of charm. If there was one thing being a dominant had taught me, it was how to keep yourself from falling into another's trap. The worry that Shawn spoke of wasn't, as far as I could tell, a way of charming me, but I could never be too sure. His chuckle echoed in my ears, a basketball dribble in a desolate gym.
