Work Text:
It’s quiet in Steve’s apartment, with Eddie gone. There’s no metal albums blasting through a pair of Bluetooth headphones while Eddie waits for his coffee to percolate. There’s no shouts of sneak attack! Before Eddie leaps onto his back to attack him from behind, and there’s no one to dance with him when his favourite song comes up on one of Steve’s playlists, till they laugh so hard they start to hiccup.
It’s not even the first day and Steve’s already bored. He rereads Eddie’s frantic texts:
God I love staying at your place
because it’s so cool and LUCY is there
my kitty, my son
but was that a good idea the night before a flight?
no, I forgot so much shit at home, my GOD.
Traffic is bad for some reason?? I’m so fucked, I’m gonna miss my flight.
Arrived at the airport BABY we are back in business!
Why do I forget that the TSA searches my bag in detail every single time I board a plane? Like, yes, I have 17 dildos and 8 vibrators in one suitcase, Sandra, I’m a hobbyist, okay? I guess I should be glad they decided I wasn't a sex trafficker, just a freak.
—and listens to his breathy voice message one more time.
God, one day there will be a day where I need to get on a plane and I won’t have to sprint to the gate holding a scalding hot cup of coffee but today is not that day. Okay, I made it, okay. Okay. I lo—I’ll see you later, Stevie.
He misses Eddie already.
Steve grabs Eddie’s spare key and slides it onto his key ring while he finds Lucy’s cat carrier, placing it on his bed with a blanket inside. He packs up a week’s worth of his and Lucy’s things and grabs some of his favourite groceries, packing them all up in his car. He returns to his bed and zips up Lucy’s cat carrier because the cat is currently napping peacefully inside.
“Ready to go to Eddie’s, little man?” he asks, securing him in the passenger seat. He drives like a grandma, taking ten extra minutes to get there, but it’s worth it because he’d never speed anywhere with Lucy in the car. Eddie offered his apartment to Steve for that week if he wanted to use it — it would be empty. His studio space downstairs would be rented by other doms, but Steve could come and go as he pleased.
He unlocks the door to Eddie’s apartment and breathes a sigh of relief when he enters. The whole place smells like Eddie — like his shampoo, like worn cardboard from his favourite vinyls and like that beautiful boy that Steve just adores so very much.
“Better,” Steve says, to himself.
Eddie’s study is really the only room with a door that closes apart from the bathroom, so Steve sets Lucy up in there, giggling when Lucy springs free from his carrier to attack a toy, rabbit-kicking it with his feet. He stays in there while Lucy walks the perimeter of the room, leaping onto Eddie’s desk to stick his head in a half-empty water glass.
He takes a photo of Lucy’s head stuck in Eddie’s glass and sends it to Eddie with a text:
Found this strange creature in your office. Can we keep him?
“Okay, mister,” Steve picks up the glass and sets it out of Lucy’s reach. “I bought you a $40 water fountain for a reason and you still want to drink water from my boyfriend’s old water glass. I see how it is.”
And then he starts texting and calling people, aiming to fill his calendar as much as possible. He should’ve messaged people earlier and been better coordinated, but he was so focused on Eddie and their remaining time together he barely thought about anything or anyone else. He feels the urge to work out like he hasn’t felt in a long time— he’ll be restless this whole week if he doesn’t move his body somehow.
He also gets a response from one of the private investigators he emailed a little while ago. He pins that in his inbox for later.
Reggie responds to his text:
We can work out together if you want. I can make time for you.
He sends Steve the address of a gym and Steve puts it in his calendar. He changes into a button-up shirt but keeps his sweatpants on because even though he’s going to work, he’s working from home.
8 mind-numbing hours later and he’s finally done and on his way to the gym. When he arrives, Reggie is already there, waving him over to the boxing ring.
“C’mere,” he says, tossing him a pair of gloves. “Put these on. Have you ever done this before?”
“A little, yeah,” Steve climbs in through the ropes. “I like it.”
“Good, then do exactly as I say when I say it,” he smiles. “But first, your stance,” Reggie walks over and touches him gently, encouraging him to stand just so. “Better.”
Steve does as he’s bid, following Reggie’s commands with increasing ease as he warms up. The world around him narrows to the pad in front of him and the sound of Reggie’s voice, calling out specific punches.
Jab, jab, cross. Good, again! Jab, jab, cross. On your toes, Stevie, that’s it. Right hook, left hook, jab, jab, cross. You can go faster, c’mon, I know you can. Gimme three. Harder, you can’t hurt me, go, go, go!
He boxes for an hour until he’s absolutely soaked in sweat and his muscles are burning with a buildup of lactic acid. But it seems like Reggie’s just getting started. Steve lost his shirt at some point and isn’t sure where it is anymore, but it doesn’t matter.
Steve has his arms slung over the ropes, breathing hard when he sees Tommy and his partner, probably, walk in through the front door. He raises two fingers to them, a casual hey before he takes another swig of his water bottle and gets back into the ring.
“Jab, jab, that’s it, c’mon! Harder!” He’s loud, authoritative, barking out orders. “Hit me Stevie, let’s go!”
Reggie probably has no idea Tommy walked in just now. He keeps forgetting what Tommy’s name is and what he looks like. And there’s something reassuring about that. Reggie won’t change his behaviour just because Tommy walked in, won’t stop and ask Steve if he’s okay, because Steve doesn’t need that right now.
All Steve needs is to go to the gym with his friend so he can wear himself out so he can sleep alone in Eddie’s bed tonight.
“Good boy! Give it to me, c’mon!”
It’s funny, from the outside looking in, one might assume this is how Reggie would be in BDSM sessions if you knew he was a dom. His voice taking up the whole space, his whole presence commanding, his tone daring.
“Like that, there we go! Good boy!”
But in session he’s not like this at all. He’s soft, gentle, coaxing, brutal only when he needs to be. Where most dominators might raise their voice, he lowers his so that the submissive has to strain to hear him. Where most dominators bring noise and colour and movement to overwhelm their submissives with sensation, Reggie first brings the quiet, then turns the volume up. Steve isn’t sure how he does it, really, how Reggie can dole out punishment that feels like kindness.
But he wants to learn.
“One more round, Stevie, c’mon!” Reggie says and he’s egging him on, Steve knows he is and hates that it works, that he rallies even though he’s spent. “Faster! Harder!” Reggie yells.
Steve is sick of him yelling, actually and starts to hit the boxing pads really hard, growling when he finds his rhythm again.
“Oh, there he is!” Reggie says, triumphant. “There’s the big boy.”
He can feel the sweat dripping off him, falling into his eyes, into the band of his shorts, into the ring, making it slippery. When he’s done following Reggie, he tears off his gloves and just does his best to breathe.
“Well done,” Reggie slaps him on the shoulder and recovers Steve’s shirt from where it landed on the ropes. “Good boy.”
They hop out of the ring and walk into the locker rooms and into the showers. Tommy’s still in the locker room, talking to the person he came in with. Clearly, he’s waiting for Steve to leave before he goes out onto the floor. Fair enough. When Steve walks by him on the other side of the bench he can feel Tommy’s eyes boring a hole into his back. He then recalls that Eddie’s covered him in marks— plenty of bruises, bites and indentations till he comes home.
So everyone knows who you belong to, baby boy. So everyone knows you’re mine, even while I’m gone.
He rinses off just long enough to get the sweat off his body and towels off and climbs back into his clothes.
“Thanks, Reg, I needed that,” he says, walking back through the gym. Tommy’s on an exercise bike but Steve doesn’t turn his head.
“Oh, Steve, any time. You were beautiful to watch,” Reggie holds the door open for him, which is probably a good thing because his muscles are fast approaching exhaustion. He makes it home to Eddie’s, hangs out with Lucy and then eats leftovers for dinner.
And then he’s alone in Eddie’s apartment, doing his best not to shove his face into every pillow so he can inhale his boyish smell. He walks around his space and gently touches his things. He opens a drawer in Eddie’s desk and rolls his eyes — it’s full of receipts for products Eddie uses for work in one giant wad of receipt paper. He makes a mental note to look more closely at that later. He might be able to organise it just a little. He checks another drawer and sees a pile of water bills with equations scrawled on the back, another pile of papers marked FOR LATER!! and another drawer filled with boxes of condoms marked DEMO ONLY!!
And then something else. A journal with Steve written across it. He frowns. He doesn’t remember Eddie saying anything about a journal. But if it has his name on it, it could be for him? Instructions on how to care for Eddie’s dying houseplants, maybe. He flips through it and doesn’t see any sort of list or instructions. It looks like a private journal, so he decides to put it away.
An earlier version of him might’ve snuck a look at the journal and read it cover to cover and told Eddie about it later. But this version of him trusts Eddie, even if his curiosity burns to read it. He'll ask.
He gets a text from Eddie. It looks like his messages are finally coming through now that he’s landed.
I’m saying this now so I’ve already said it and you can take your time to reply. You can do whatever you want with it.
I love you. I love you so much. I can’t wait to come home to you. I love you, Stevie.
Steve had imagined Eddie’s first I love you a hundred times. A sleepy admission, made into the pillow beside Steve’s, before Eddie even opened his eyes. A murmured confession made somewhere around Steve’s collarbone, words warmed by the presence of alcohol. A wild torrent of words coming tumbling out of his mouth till he was talking for so long that it became a monologue. A breathy revelation while they were fucking, still joined, still connected, still buried inside each other. A casual remark till Eddie would realise what he said and clap his hands over his mouth with a mortified squeak.
He’d pictured the text I love you, too, Eddie too shy to say the words aloud just yet. Now that Steve thought about it, it did make the most sense for Eddie. If he had to say something important he often liked to write it out, chew over the words and their placement, trawling through an online thesaurus for the word he was looking for. Eventually he would give up and text Nancy something like:
Hey Nance, what’s the word where it’s like …Inferring? Like theory… but not? Like explore, but more?
And Nancy would text back: extrapolate with no question mark, because she was almost always right. Eddie would thank Nancy profusely (often verbally, neglecting to respond to her) and finally finish the email he’d been working on for far longer than he should have.
He’d received thoughtful messages from Eddie before this one. Like the time Steve called it off with Eddie professionally and went to sob in his bedroom for hours. At the time, Steve expected a brief apology, some kind of summary, receipts and a form for an exit interview. What he received instead was a beautifully crafted response telling him all the things he needed to hear: that he was a delight to have as a client, that he didn’t need Tommy’s permission for everything and that he was excellent at communicating his needs.
But the thing about Eddie saying I love you is that he’d already said it. He said it every time he dropped everything to dance with Steve in the kitchen, while Steve was making them both dinner. He said it in the way he lit up any time Steve walked into a room, he said it every time he picked up Lucy tenderly and kissed his sleek little forehead even after Lucy had pissed all over his favourite shoes because Eddie’s work schedule changed.
It was of course a relief that Eddie said I love you, but it was more of a relief that Steve hadn’t doubted Eddie’s love for a second, or doubted that he was worthy of that love. Even more powerful was the fact that he hadn’t, under the weight of a thousand insecurities, begged Eddie to say I love you before Eddie was ready out of some deep-seated need for external validation.
He’s a different man than he was when he dated Tommy, and his hundreds of hours of therapy are as good a proof as any of his progress. Steve and Eddie’s relationship might be disgustingly co-dependent, freaky and hungry but it’s theirs.
I love you too, Eddie. I love you so much, you dork.
He knows he’s going to struggle to sleep now, especially because his boyfriend said I love you. But a video call with Robin and an episode of a TV show later it doesn’t look like Eddie’s going to reply. It looks like Eddie landed, went to his hotel and then went straight to work, maybe? It would make sense. Misha was paying Eddie very well, and probably wants as much time with him as possible, as much as it sucks for Steve.
Steve opens his messages and sees one from Chrissy:
Lord forgive me, for I have snooped again and a link to an account. Steve clicks on it and chooses the pinned video.
A lithe, buoyant, green-haired human wearing all black leaps across the screen.
Hey everyone! My name is Misha, my pronouns are they/them and I’m a 22 year old heirex who believes we should tax the rich and you should always be yourself, unless you’re mean, then I don’t like you.
Come with me on my journey as I get ready for my professional dominator. First, we have to find a place for him to stay. This time, I asked for recommendations from the kink community and after looking for a long time — the video cuts to Misha sitting in front of their laptop, browsing listings, fast forwarding through their search — I found the perfect place!
The video cuts again, to Misha spreading their arms out victoriously in the middle of a spacious foyer, high ceilings and all.
The first thing I did was check that the metal hooks in the walls were actually safe for us to use — and they were! Then, I changed the sheets to something more comfortable, so my dom can get a good night’s sleep while he’s here. These are the D. Porthault Jours De Paris sheet set in #48 Dark Blue with the scalloped edge. I thought they were handsome, but still whimsical and fun! Then, I had the place professionally cleaned because I’ll probably be spending some time on the floor, so.
Steve pauses the video to look up the sheets Misha mentions and laughs at the price tag, they’re roughly $3200 for a full set of sheets. But, Steve realises, Misha isn’t just showing off how wealthy they are, or how good of a submissive they are, they’re looking for a dom. Someone to balance out their partnership so they can be dominated all hours of the day, all year. Except, Steve has a feeling, nobody’s come close to Eddie yet. Steve switches back to Misha’s video.
As you guys know I’ve already taken courses so I can be the best submissive I can be. I redid my first aid because it was meant to expire this year. It’s important for bottoms and submissives to know first aid, too, not just tops or doms! And then I took a barista course because Eddie really likes coffee, so I want to make the best coffee for him while he’s here. And then I took a lot of rope play and bondage courses so I can tie and untie myself easily. I bought lots of supplies, especially ones to clean and polish leather.
Hm. Steve is ever so reluctant to admit that learning bondage so Misha can present themselves in whatever tie Eddie so chooses without him lifting a finger is, actually, not a bad idea. He has been learning bondage through Eddie and Reggie, picking up pieces as he goes, and he’d always meant to learn more, to ask more questions, but he was always so swept up in the scene he didn’t always retain everything.
But Eddie walking in the door to find him pliant and prone, presented in rope like a gift? That’s hot.
The next step is to book all of our workshops and parties for the week. I always try to make sure our time together enriches us as much as possible, which means we have a lot to do but it’ll make me an even better sub. I also do my best to book downtime for Eddie as well, because domming someone 24/7 is a lot of work. This visit I booked him for a bespoke suit fitting, which I thought could be really fun too!
A bespoke suit? Oh, Eddie will look so handsome. Steve’s heart soars and even though he’s not included and not his idea, it feels like something for him and Eddie to look forward to.
In the days leading up to his arrival, I take time off work to make sure everything is perfect. Then I practise my protocols. We have a high protocol relationship which means my dom controls anything from where I walk, the level of eye contact we have, where and how I sit and what I wear, just as an example. We also focus on service in our relationship, so I usually bring him anything he needs. I make him coffee and we do boot-blacking every day. I choose the restaurants where we eat, I usually keep very detailed notes of the workshops we attend so we can review everything later. He might use me like a piece of furniture — for one week my body is his to use how he pleases and this brings me great joy.
Steve watches Misha practising their protocols, kneeling, timing themself, holding certain positions, lifting and lowering their eyes. Steve thinks he could do that — knows he could follow protocols, as well as — actually — better than Misha if—
—and then he stops himself. He remembers what Chrissy said once, a passing comment of hers that stuck with him — jealousy can be an energising force and though it might feel good, it very rarely serves both parties for good.
Okay, so he wants to do protocols with Eddie, how would he do protocols? Not just in comparison to Misha, but how would he, Stevie, do protocols? To start with, Eddie admitted just a few days ago, while hiding under his hair, that he didn’t like protocols in the first place. So how would he entice Eddie to protocols? How would he seduce him into it?
Well, for Eddie, play is everything. So, they’d play at it. Have names, be characters, maybe, or use outrageous accents. A British butler and the impossible asshole heir he was meant to be looking after. A Dr. Frankenstein and his lovesick creation. Or, alternatively, it could be something totally sincere. A king and his knight finally returned from a long journey. Achilles and Patroclus pledging their loyalty to each other, bandaging each other’s wounds on the battlefield, their relationship divinely appointed by the gods—
—and Steve finds the jealousy in him has already passed, making way for something which feels a lot more like curiosity and playfulness. He makes a note of his ideas for Eddie and then goes back to watching Misha’s video.
A lot of people ask, how could you possibly do this? This feels so demeaning and disrespectful, or it just feels silly. But to me it feels beautiful. Kneeling beside him is intensely vulnerable, but very rewarding and I wouldn’t have it any other way. And, unlike in a typical relationship where some things might be taken for granted or expected, he always says thank you and praises me for every single thing I do and I feel so safe with him. We always have safe words we use with each other, and each time he’s used his I really appreciate the fact that he felt comfortable enough to share that discomfort with me.
Our 24/7 dynamic dictates that we have to discuss things as soon as we possibly can, so that we can know how to process and move forward together as a team. The aim is not for him to never need to use his safe word, but that when he does I am receptive and open to the things that worked and things that didn’t, and the reverse goes for him. It’s an honour to enter into this contract with him and to share with him how I’ve honed my skills since we last met.
Steve starts to feel yet another wave of lovesickness, which is ridiculous because Eddie hasn’t even started his work trip yet, he’s barely landed in Berlin.
He calls Eddie. He doesn’t care if Eddie’s asleep but he can’t quite get his head around the time change and he misses his boyfriend already. The first few seconds of the call are slightly muffled swear words as Eddie evidently juggles all the items in his hands to free up one for his phone.
Hello, this is Edward Munson’s animated corpse speaking, how can I help you?
Hi, Eddie.
Hi, Eddie he mimics, sounding appalled. God, you’re so hot when you say hi to me. You’re saying HI to me. Can I be normal about you? The answer is no.
Steve giggles and snuggles into his pillow. How was your flight?
Heinous, but I’m on the ground and you were right, wearing sneakers is so much smarter than wearing boots because my feet didn’t swell up so much. This…airport feels different than last time I was here, please don’t tell me I’m already lost…
Steve listens for a few moments while Eddie talks to himself, psyching himself up, losing confidence, then gathering his strength again.
What time is it with you?
It’s far too early in the morning, about 8 in the morning I think. What time is it with you?
Close to midnight.
Aw, baby. Go to bed.
I will. Do you want to hear Lucy purring?
Do I want to hear Lucy purring, they ask? As if Lucy’s purr isn’t my entire personality.
Okay, hang on. Steve takes a few moments to put the phone on speaker and slot it near Eddie’s pillow, where Lucy’s currently perched, all four paws tucked under him.
Eddie asks questions like Wait, are we doing it? Is it happening? Is that my son? Quickly followed by noises of incomprehensible adoration.
Steve grins and takes the phone back, resetting it and tucking it to his ear again.
Could you hear it? Steve asks.
Of course I could hear it. I’d know his little t-boy purr anywhere.
It’s so funny you call him a t-boy.
Listen, we know each other, okay? We recognise each other in the wild. It’s a sixth sense.
Back in Eddie’s bed, Steve listens to Eddie read a sign over and over, mumbling under his breath.
…baggage claim! Fuck yes, I am crushing this. The loudspeaker announces something vague, first in German, then in English, a request for passengers to make it to a gate.
How’s… the search going? Any progress?
Oh, Steve sits up a little in bed. I thought you didn’t want to hear about it.
Oh, I don’t. But if I did. Theoretically, hypothetically, perchance-edly, is there any progress?
Okay, let me pull up the email. There’s not a lot of progress, but it’s a start.
The search Eddie’s referring to is one that began before Eddie left for Berlin, over dinner with Wayne. Eddie finished work early and drove out to Wayne’s little house that he built himself years ago.
It’s not until Steve reaches for the cutlery in the drawers with a practised pull that Eddie realises Steve’s been here before. Of course he has, Wayne has all sorts of union meetings at his house, and Steve and Wayne have been meeting probably for the past two years. In the summer, he usually turns on the barbecue. Eddie loved the food as a kid but despised the conversation. It was always so boring and all about work, so he would usually stuff his face and then sprint off into the grass, perplexed as to why he had a stomach ache when the food was so delicious.
Eddie just…watches them and lets them talk, the same way you do with anyone you love. Steve and Wayne talk a lot, mostly about union stuff. Phone banking, petitions, the difference between a strike and a lockout, which website builder could be the most secure for union communications, and the type of bargaining power they could have if the whole financial district got on their side.
Then, it’s Steve’s turn to people watch. Wayne and Eddie catch up for a little — they talk about the TV shows they recommended to each other but still haven’t seen, the type of strings they’ll both need for their musical instruments (even though Eddie hasn’t actually sat down to play his guitar in years) and which dates he’ll be away for work exactly. The conversation moves in lulls and swells, until Steve gathers the courage to ask the question he’s been meaning to ask for a while.
“Wayne,” Steve knows Eddie isn’t going to like him asking this question, but he has to do it for his own sanity. “Do you think Eddie and his mom share similar politics?”
Eddie stiffens and turns slightly towards him in his seat like hello excuse me fuck you I was having a perfectly good time until— but Wayne interrupts his death stare with a gentle clearing of his throat in preparation to speak.
“I mean,” he considers for a moment. “I… would say so? Your mom,” he turns to his nephew now, and if that doesn’t tug on Eddie’s heartstrings— the act of Wayne always referring to his mom as yours. “Was a big feminist. But I didn’t know that much about her, actually. Or, I guess I should say I didn’t know her that well. Al kept her and I apart a fair bit, I think because he was afraid I’d warn her off him or something.”
“And would you have?” Eddie asks. “Warned her off Al, I mean.”
“I mean I would’ve been honest about his past,” Wayne shrugs. “If that counts as warning her about Al, then that’s his own fault.”
Eddie grins because he loves this part of Wayne. The part that is always willing to stand up to Al, to see through his younger brother’s bullshit, to see past his charisma and his grandstanding and his asking for second chances. He does it in a way Eddie never could, never will be able to, because part of him will always be a hurt little boy looking for approval. Wayne doesn’t need Al’s approval — never has, never will, and Al knows it.
“She called you Eddie for a while, once you were really insistent on it. She let you wear whatever, climb trees, do whatever. She was always trying to get you to sit still when she did your hair. But,” he half shrugs.
“I couldn’t say for sure whether she was or wasn’t…supportive of that kind of stuff,” his mouth turns down at the corners. “I know that’s probably not the answer that you want, but, that’s the best answer I got,” Wayne takes a mouthful of his beer.
“No, no,” Eddie shakes his head. “Just…the fact that she let me be a tomboy means a lot,” Eddie nods.
“Would there be anyone around that knows more? Like, maybe Al remembers someone, or…?” Steve asks because he apparently won’t let this fucking die.
Eddie gives him a look like, excuse me sir, if you don’t fucking shut up about my dead mom—
“Hm,” Wayne sits back in his chair, mulling over the question. “...maybe someone from her college days? That was just before I met her, but maybe she went to a feminist club or something?” he chews his lip.
“Okay,” Steve nods, like this is enough of an answer for him. “Thanks.”
“So,” Eddie picks up a piece of cold naan and dips it in the dahl in front of him. “How’s your band, Wayne?” It is a transparent attempt to change the subject to something else that’s less painful, but Wayne doesn’t seem to mind considering he's acclimated to Eddie often changing the subject at the dinner table to avoid an argument. Or to avoid talking about his feelings.
“Good,” he nods. “We have a gig in town while you’re in Berlin, so you’ll miss it, but, should be fun.”
“I’ll come,” Steve tips his beer in his direction and they clink their bottles together.
“You better record the whole thing for me,” Eddie says, emphatically, to Steve. “Including the phone shaking while you’re applauding via standing ovation,” he says.
“Of course I will,” Steve says, and the best part is that Eddie knows he’s genuine.
Familial ease passes between them. And Eddie thinks they’ve almost made it through the dinner unscathed.
“...I’m still thinking about your question,” Wayne points to Steve, because yes, actually, it is his question because Eddie would never even dream of asking hey, would my dead mother love me as I am?
“...there might be, like, a college class list among her things, to see if you can, get any context from that, I dunno.”
“That’d be great,” Steve nods. “Thank you.”
Wayne sets his plate down in the sink before he leaves to fetch Marion’s things.
“Steve,” Eddie licks his lips. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because,” he just shrugs. “I want to get to know her.”
“Yeah, but,” Eddie is exasperated, already exhausted by the whole exchange. “That’s, like, what was her favourite colour, what did she cook all the time, when was her birthday? That type of shit, not, not—” Eddie throws his hands up in the air. “Oh my god.”
“Okay,” Wayne pulls out a pair of reading glasses from the front pocket of his shirt and opens the box. “Here’s all her stuff.”
They go through her stuff, photos of her as a little girl, in front of a little house, a feathered report card from school. Then, some of her own keepsakes, things she’d kept over the years: birthday cards, concert tickets (including a Fleetwood Mac ticket from 1979 that cost $13.50!) and a bullet of lipstick she was trying to find a replacement for but could never find a match for. Her and Al’s wedding, which looked tiny, but intimate, in a way.
And then, there were all of Eddie’s baby things, including the hospital bracelet she wore when she gave birth to Eddie. There’s a photo of her putting together a yellow crib, flipping off the camera. According to Wayne, she never liked having her photo taken.
“The whole nursery is like, yellow and green, did they choose those colours intentionally or was that what they had?” Steve asks.
“Well, Marion wanted to be surprised by the sex of the baby, so she didn’t want to be told. Everyone complained about it from what I heard, but she held firm on it,” Wayne says.
There’s a baby book, with Eddie’s height, weight, birthday, hair colour and tiny little footprints. So many photos of Marion looking down at a bundled up baby Eddie, her face barely discernible apart from a tilted chin and her hair. And then so many of Eddie’s firsts, first time in a park, first birthday party, tiny face covered in cake, first time in a swimming pool, Marion’s ringed fingers around his tiny waist.
“That’s the ring you’re wearing?” Steve points to it on her hand.
“Yeah,” Eddie twists it reflexively. “That’s it. It was her favourite.”
They keep sifting through the photos, through Eddie standing up on his tiptoes against a height chart by a doorway, the two of them baking, Eddie sitting in his dad’s lap in a car in a way that most governing bodies would not approve of, even 28 years ago.
“Actually, y’know what,” Wayne flicks a photo of Marion and another person, arms around each other. “She’ll know whether or not your mom was, supportive. Sorry, I don’t really know the right terms—” he frowns.
“No, it’s okay,” Eddie nods. “You got it.”
“She’ll know,” he says, nodding. “She called herself a…well,” he makes a face. “People don’t really use that term now, but.”
“Which term?” Eddie asks. Wayne flinches, but Eddie persists. “If it’s for illustrative purposes, Wayne, it’s fine.”
Steve picks up the photo and studies it closely. There’s Marion — it’s funny, he would know her anywhere, even though they’ve never met. Her and Eddie have the same ridiculously sunny smile, a big cheesy grin that goes all the way up to the eyes and scrunchy little nose and curly, curly hair. Al has curly hair, too, but their curl pattern looks different, though he hasn’t met Al in person, just talked over the phone once or twice.
Marion’s arm is around a taller woman with a shaved head, a blue denim jacket and a men’s watch around her wrist. He can’t see much else, not any particularly distinguishing features because her head is bowed towards the camera, like they’re both giggling so hard they can’t sit still for a photo.
“She called herself a dyke,” Wayne shrugs. “She was a part of some club or something. I think that was the jacket.”
“This jacket?” Steve asks, pointing to the photo.
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember her name?”
Wayne shakes his head. “Nah. Her nickname was Blue, or something like that. But if anyone would know that question about your mom, it’d be her.”
“Is this a name tag, here?” Steve points to the chest of the jacket, where a little patch of fabric is folded into the denim by their hug.
“Yeah, think so,” Wayne looks at it, peering over his glasses. “Yeah her name was like C-something,” he clicks his tongue. “Like Culbert, Co—Colbert? Cobalt, maybe, ‘cause her nickname was Blue? Co— or Cu—something.”
“Okay,” Steve nods, letting Eddie hold the photo for a while. He takes it from Eddie and shows him where he’s tucking it away for safe-keeping.“That’s super helpful, thank you."
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he says, nodding. “It’s always good to talk about this stuff because otherwise it just sits in a box and I forget it all,” he laughs. “Not her, of course, but, details.”
It’s getting late, and Eddie still has to pack, so they help Wayne pack his lunch for tomorrow and then say good night, piling into the car with their leftovers.
“Steve,” Eddie looks stiff, uncomfortable. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because,” Steve says, trying his best to put his reason to words. “I know she loved you. Now, I want to find out how.”
“But,” Eddie breathes in, trying to stop himself from sounding so pissed off. “To what end, Steve?”
“I—” Steve struggles to find the words that match the strength of his convictions, now, because if he doesn’t tread carefully he’ll hurt Eddie’s feelings and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants to do.
“Like, what exactly are you trying to do with this?” he looks over to Steve’s wallet, where the small photo now sits.
“Maybe she’ll have different stories than Wayne or Al. Maybe she’ll tell us about the time your mom was in some recreation of the vagina monologues or something, I don’t know.”
“...vagina monologues,” Eddie murmurs. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“I want to be curious about all of you. I want to learn as much as I can. So, that includes asking questions about your mom and your childhood. If you want me not to look for her, say the word and I won’t, but I knew if I brought it up, you’d completely shut down and make a joke about childhood trauma and we would never get to have this conversation.”
Eddie doesn’t like that Steve is right, but he does also feel like Steve is intruding, in a way, even if it is out of love.
“Okay, well,” he licks his lips, thinking while he sits at a traffic light. “Only tell me anything if it’s good news, otherwise, just throw that photo back in the box and don’t ask that question again. It’s my fucking history, so, be gentle with it, please.”
“I will,” Steve says, placing his hand over Eddie’s. “I’m sorry I dominated that conversation, and I’m sorry if this seems like prying. But you make some comments and jokes about your mom not loving you and I…wondered if there was a way I could put those worries to rest. So, this is me trying to do that.”
“Comments like when my egg cracked and rolled out of the nest, I’m so glad I rolled into Wayne’s? Comments like I’m glad my mom died before I could disappoint her one more time? But I’m probably disappointing her ghost by being a dead-nippled trans boy nerd and a whore?” Eddie laughs out a breath.
These are verbal barbs, meant only for Eddie. They work well because nobody can correct him. Nobody can challenge him and insist, no, your mother did love you. I know. I was there. Nobody except Wayne who is as immovable with the fact of his mother’s love for him as he is with his father’s disinterest in being a parent. Al was always more invested in having Eddie as a best friend and a buddy than a son and someone who truly needed him. And Wayne was there when Eddie needed those feelings validated, too.
These are verbal barbs, meant only for Eddie, but they hurt his mother too. The memory of her. The credibility of her love. And that, perhaps, hurts Eddie most. To insist that someone like his mother didn’t love him. He’s thought, for all these years, that tragedy looks good on someone like him, but perhaps it doesn’t suit him at all.
“Yeah. You came from somewhere, from someone, and she loved you then and maybe she’d love you now if she could. I want to find out more about her if I can.”
“Well,” Eddie feels hurt, but not because of Steve, necessarily? More like, sad because the most painful part of his childhood trauma isn’t that it was painful. It’s that it doesn’t seem like there will ever be a resolution. Not in the way Steve wants, anyway, not tied up all neat with a bow.
“Pretty fucking weird way to give me some self-esteem or reassurance or whatever,” Eddie mumbles. “But, the…conversation with Wayne was nice. Every time we go through her stuff he seems to remember something else, so…” Eddie nods. “That’s good. We should do that more often.”
“I’d like that,” Steve says. “A lot,” he brings Eddie’s hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “You’re not upset with me?”
“No, not with you,” Eddie shakes his head. “You did bring up my dead mom’s politics with the grace of an newly-baptised Mormon asking me if I’d heard about a man named Joseph Smith. So, maybe you could work on your delivery.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve says. Even though Eddie knew he’d say it and knew he’d mean it, he doesn’t know if he really wants an apology right now. In moments like these, he wants his mom.
It’s the worst.
“But it’s been a long time since I’ve had—,” Eddie swallows. “Since I’ve had someone like you. Someone who cares about all aspects of me,” he nods. “Even in previous relationships, not everyone met Wayne, or knows him as well as you do. Like, you two are buddies and like, hang out without me?” he tries his best to clamp down on an unexpected swell of emotions.
“That… means a lot to me because I don’t—,” his voice starts to break. “There’s not really a lot of crossover between like, my chosen family and Wayne because they’re all kinksters, obviously, so like I’m not gonna bring Wayne to a puppy play pit because that would be gross and weird but.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.
“Watching you two both talk was like,” he wipes away a tear with the back of his hand. “It was like, maybe I could have everything I ever wanted?”
“Pull over, Eddie,” Steve says, gently, coaxing him. “Give it a minute.”
“This just means a lot to me because,” he pulls over and puts the car in park and just tries his best to breathe. “All my life I’ve had like, multiple versions of myself, like, a professional version, a kinkster freak version and then, like, Eddie Munson from a trailer park where everyone else became a doctor and a lawyer and an owner of an entire brewery, except me. I’m a whore and a professional one, too."
“And you,” Eddie says, tossing back his hair. “You asshole, you’re…” he shakes his head. “It’s like you’re stitching me back together, repairing old wounds I’ve ignored for decades. I learnt to live with all of it. All of these old wounds. I was carrying all of it and here you are telling me to set down my burden and it’s like, I can’t because that burden is a part of me. Even if it is a very fucked up part.”
“Eddie,” Steve says, softly, trying to get him to make eye contact.
“It’s probably my favourite fucked up part, actually,” he says, praying to any and all available entities that his boyfriend doesn’t say anything about using humour to cope with grief right now.
“Eddie, hey.”
“I can’t look at you right now because you’re making puppy eyes and if I look at you, I’ll cry,” he says, even though he is already crying. “You have always treated me like a whole person, even when I haven’t done that myself for a long time.”
“Eddie, sweetheart,” Steve says, reaching for him. “Come here.”
Eddie undoes his seatbelt and climbs over the centre console, right into Steve’s lap. Steve just holds him and lets him cry, wet, heavy tears landing on his shoulder.
“Remember when Tommy fucked up my neck and you drove me to that medical centre and then he called me a whore over speakerphone?” Steve laughs, but after he’s said it aloud, he realises it might not be as funny as he first thought.
“God,” Eddie says, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “As if you’d ever done anything wrong in your entire life,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he wasn’t in the car, I would’ve absolutely headbutted him to hell and back.”
"Oh yeah?” Steve asks, his arms around Eddie. “You would’ve defended my honour?”
“I would’ve defended your god-given right to be a whore, that’s for sure. After I dropped you home, I spent the whole drive home planning his murder and how I would get away with it. My dad knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. I thought about it,” he says, digging around for a tissue.
“What stopped you?” Steve asks.
“From committing murder?” Eddie pauses. “Mm. I figured the only thing worse than Tommy would be hauling his literal dead weight around. And you. I figured you were more important.”
“Somehow I am both surprised and not surprised that my god-given right to being a whore saved you from murdering someone,” Steve muses.
“That and my dad’s guy who knows a guy who knows a guy is probably in prison. But actually the most important being in our life is at home and starving and his name is Lucy,” Eddie straddles Steve and stretches his leg, trying to hop back over to the driver’s seat. His elbow lands on the horn and it blares loudly for a second. “Hang on, hang on, I’m just—”
“You could’ve just exited the car,” Steve says, over the noise when Eddie hits the horn by accident again.
“I know, I know, but I’m committed now,” Eddie says. “I have to see this through.”
“If you move the seat back you’d have more space—”
“Don’t you dare touch my seat, actually, Steven,” Eddie says, trying to get his legs out from under him. “I’m actually perfectly capa—thank you,” he says, when Steve moves his seat back.
“How loudly do you think the boy will scream when we unlock the door?” Eddie asks, putting his seat belt on again.
“Mm. Just under what would make us legally deaf so we can hear him when he screams again,” Steve says.
“I was gonna say he’d break the sound barrier but I think you’re right,” Eddie nods.
“I don’t think it helps that you scream at him too,” Steve ventures.
“What do you want me to do? Not scream at him? It’s our call and response, Steve, it’s our secret language—”
So, yeah. No luck yet, Steve says, scrolling down to make sure he’d communicated everything. But he’s still looking. The trail’s not dead.
Okay. That’s cool.
Steve gives space for Eddie to say something more, because he has a feeling he wants to, but he doesn’t.
… oh my fucking god my luggage is right there. I’ve been standing here at this baggage claim carousel like an idiot antelope around a metal watering hole roundabout carousel hellscape when my bags are just like, slightly to my left, oh my god. Fuck me, I need coffee.
Hey, Steve says, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to say what he needs to say. I love you.
Eddie giggles, high and exposed, like the weight of the words might knock him over.
Ah, you got my text.
I did. Did you sleep on the plane or were you panicking about what I would say the whole time?
Eddie giggles again, that same faint, reeling laugh. I kept, like, forgetting that I’d sent it, and then remembering and then I’d jolt in my seat like I’d been jumpscared or something.
Oh, no, Eddie. Baby. I’m sorry.
The line goes quiet for a moment. Steve knows he should let Eddie go. He’s got his bags, so he should be almost out of the airport by now and well on his way to meet Misha. But he doesn’t want to hang up just yet.
I’m not, uh. I’m. I’m not very good at saying it.
That’s okay, Steve says, hoping that Eddie knows that he means it. It is okay. I know.
My god, Eddie laughs. This laugh sounds a little more like him, even if he does sound exhausted. Did you just Han Solo me? Did I just get Han Solo’d? This might just be the best day of my life.
Please, Steve smiles, can’t stop smiling, really. We both know I’m Princess Leia.
Alright, Stevie. I gotta go. There’s a very expensive looking driver guy who keeps looking pointedly at me, so I think that’s my ride.
Okay. Bye, Eddie. Love you, Steve says, hoping he’s said it casually enough that it doesn’t put pressure on Eddie to repeat it back to him.
Iloveyoutoo, Eddie says, his words all bleeding together. Bye, baby.
Steve wakes up the next morning to a series of texts from Eddie — memes of woodland animals so blurry and broken that Steve can hardly read the text for the broken jpeg artifacts, a blurry photo of a cat with a ‘he was cute but nothing holds a candle to lucy, my child, my son, my beloved’ and ‘help I forgot all of my toiletries' followed by a 'nvm found em.’
Steve is determined to reply to each and every text when Eddie sends him another message.
Wait it’s like 7am where you are rn … do you wanna call me? I have some time to talk 👀
Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt Misha’s time with you.
Nah, I’m taking a break. I just gave Misha a set of fairy lights with some busted bulbs and told them to fix it. I figure it’ll give me at least a half hour.
Slacker.
Steve turns over in bed and takes a photo of his bare navel and the rumpled sheets and checks it’s in focus before he answers Eddie’s call.
Hi.
Hey, Stevie. What are you up to?
Oh, y’know. Steve lets his words wander while he finds the photo he just took and sends it to Eddie.
Oh, y’know… Eddie echoes teasing him before his phone buzzes in his ear. He goes quiet for a moment while he checks his phone. Steve thinks he can hear Eddie’s sharp intake of breath but he can’t be sure.
Oh you little whore! Eddie laughs darkly.
I miss you, Daddy, Steve says, hoping that Eddie can feel the pout in his voice. He thinks maybe this is too much, maybe he’s too much — Eddie’s on a break, after all. Maybe he doesn’t want to dom for a while.
I know you do, baby. Needy little thing.
I’m sorry, Daddy. You’re on a break. I should’ve asked if you wanted to play—
You’re okay, baby. I’m a big boy. I can opt out any time I want. And besides, you’ve always been my exception.
Steve loves how he can feel Eddie’s love for him all through one simple statement. All Eddie has to say is ‘you’ve always been my exception’ and Steve’s whole body sings with the praise. It’s moments like this that remind Steve that Eddie’s love has a weight and a taste and a feeling that makes his tummy flutter with a thousand possibilities, makes his heartbeat rise in anticipation of what’s to come and that makes him smile till his face hurts.
Where Tommy’s love felt unattainable, so close yet so far, Eddie’s love feels so grounded even when he’s so far away.
I do love being your exception.
Mhm. You’re very good at it. Alright, I’m thinking. Okay — get up, go piss, splash some water on your face and then go downstairs and pick out a pair of panties for me.
Okay. I’m gonna go do that and set up a cat cam for you so you can watch Lucy.
Perfect. I’ll see you soon, baby.
Steve sets the phone on his pillow, facing Lucy who’s crawled into Eddie’s bed, settling into the warm spot Steve left when he got up. He washes his face and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, retrieving his phone when he’s finished.
Did you have a good time with Lucy?
I did, I watched him clean his asshole with a serious amount of skill.
Oh my god— Steve laughs.
He did make some very sleepy biscuits though, which was very cute.
Okay I’m gonna change this to a voice call while I go downstairs.
Steve heads downstairs into Eddie’s studio and digs through the underwear selection there. He selects a strawberry g-string with semi-transparent pink fabric and a matching tiny pink bow with a little heart charm attached. He takes a photo and sends it through to Eddie.
These?
You’re gonna look so beautiful in those. Put them on for me and take a photo of you wearing them, okay?
Yes, Daddy.
Steve walks over to the full length mirror and takes a photo of himself looking over his shoulder at his ass and then another front on, showing off the little heart charm next to his rapidly thickening cock. He attaches the photos in a message and sends it through to Eddie.
What do you think, Daddy?
Eddie laughs and groans the moment he opens the message. Baby, baby, baby you are so gorgeous, pretty, stunning, perfect—I could go on. And thank you for taking two photos so I can see your ass, too, you’re such a clever little thing.
Thank you. I think you’re pretty handsome yourself. Steve slings his sweatpants over his shoulder and heads back upstairs to Eddie’s apartment.
Oh yeah?
Steve decides this is as much an invitation as any, so he takes it. Yeah. I think you have very pretty big brown eyes. I like that your upper lip is a little more plush than your bottom lip. I think that makes your mouth very kissable. I love your scruff. I love your dimples. I love your hair I think it’s so shiny and silky and fun to play with. I love the shape of your neck. I love the feel of your dick in my mouth.
Oh do you? Eddie’s voice is sweet and teasing. Steve knows that tone intimately.
Yes, I do. And I think you deserve to be adored, cherished and loved. Like the prince you are.
Do you? Cherished by who, exactly?
By me. Your boyfriend and also your sub. And sometimes your top and, also, sometimes your dom, if you want me to be.
Mhm, mhm. You really were made for me. Thank you, baby.
Can I wear a waist chain?
Of course you can, baby, you’ll look gorgeous in it too. Do you want to play today, even though I won’t be with you?
Yes, I’d love to.
Okay. I’m thinking. Would you prefer a cock cage or a plug you can wear?
A plug, please.
How’d I know which one you were going to pick, you little slut? Eddie laughs and Steve blushes at the sound of it. Perfect. That’s fine with me. Make sure you pick one with a nice flat base. I know the ones with the jewels look the prettiest but they really aren’t meant for long-term use and they’re not comfy for long periods, okay?
Aldor, maybe?
Steve can tell Eddie’s grinning on the other end of the call.
I can't believe you remember those nerdy fucking names. Yeah, baby. Something like that. Do you have any big important finance boy meetings today?
I have one at 10:30, I think.
Okay. Insert it any time after that and keep it in for as long as you’re comfortable. Take it out as soon as you want, okay?
Yes, Daddy.
Honeylove, sweetheart, loverboygirl, babyangel, I’m…I’m far from you. So we’re making this really easy for you so there’s no way you can fail and you’ll be a lot less likely to drop. Does that sound okay?
Yeah. We haven’t played like this before, so this is a dress rehearsal.
Exactly, baby, exactly. Do you have a plan if you do fall out of subspace, though?
I’ll talk to Chrissy and I’m going over for dinner with Baby tonight. So if I’m feeling really emotional, I can spend some time in the spare room where we had my birthday party and where I was so cherished.
I like that idea a lot, baby. One more thing — you can get off as many times as you like but I need photos or videos as proof, okay?
Yes, Daddy.
A beat, then another, but Steve doesn’t worry. A more inexperienced submissive might have a second of doubt, but he knows Eddie. This is the moment right before their next part of the scene, the moment right before a musician starts their set, the moment just after the curtains lift away from the stage before the first actor takes their first breath.
Get on the bed. Kneel for me.
Oh, there it is. There’s Eddie’s dom voice. Silky, soft, with the threat of his power slipping right under his tongue.
Yes, Daddy. And then?
Slide a pillow between your legs, sweet thing.
Yes, Daddy. Steve switches the call to speaker phone and sets it down on the bed.
Now, dearheart, thrust your perfect hips into that pillow and let me hear you.
Steve works his cock in his hand and grinds his hips into the pillow, enjoying the layers of fabric and the way the friction moves across his skin. He thinks about changing out of his panties, but he knows they don't have long.
What are you thinking about? Eddie asks. Tell me.
I wanna ride the sybian for you again, he says, humming in the back of his throat. Wanna eat you out while I do it.
Yeah, I bet you do. Eddie says. I know you love my dick.
Steve moans as he exhales, momentum and energy building in his thighs.
Louder, Stevie. It's not a request. Steve lets his head hang back when he groans, like he's done for Eddie so many times before.
Fuck me, you're sexy. Every time you make a noise, I feel like I've taken poppers.
Are you close? Eddie's voice is sweet, all sugar and honey, which means he's about to tease Stevie hard—
Yeah, Steve says, thinking about Eddie. Thinking about the way Eddie's gaze followed him whenever they were in a scene, thinking about the way Eddie never hesitated to nip him, lick him, taste him, thinking about how wet Eddie would be right now. He'd be so silky and maybe Steve would feel his dick twitch in his mouth—
Holy shi—t. Oh my god—
I want you to get close, baby. I want you to get so, so close.
And then?
Don't come, Eddie says his tone complete in its command, leaving no room for doubt.
Don't come? Steve echoes, a little surprised.
I want to rub one out right now, but I can't, so you don't get to either.
Steve goes right to the edge of his orgasm, stopping just before he can feel it. And then going for one second longer than that because he knows Eddie would. He grips the base of his cock and giggles a little.
Okay. Steve says, a little out of breath. I stopped. And then I touched it just a little more, for you.
He takes a photo of his dick and the ruined underwear and plans to send it to Eddie when he gets to work.
Thank you, baby. That was beautiful. You're beautiful. I want to record all your little noises and set them as my ringtone so I can hear you all the time.
Steve thinks Eddie might be bluffing. But if he tries to call him on it, he knows Eddie will record him having the best orgasm of his life and ask friends to call him somewhere public just to prove it.
Do you have to go?
I can stay for a little bit longer, honeylove. I don't want you coming down from that high on your own. I’m right here, baby. I’m right here with you.
Steve's a little relieved. He doesn't want Eddie to leave just yet. Or ever.
I had an idea for my 40th birthday. Steve walks over to the bathroom to clean up, fishing for the baby wipes he knows are around here somewhere.
Oh, did you? What's your idea?
I wanna have an orgy.
Eddie laughs and it's a beautiful sound. You are such a whore. I love you. Then, Eddie sighs.
What? Steve asks.
That's gonna be a bitch to organise. Wait, okay, wait. You didn't hear that, okay? Nevermind that, you let Daddy worry about that.
Yes, Daddy. What do you want to do for your 40th birthday?
Hire a bunch whole troupe of actors on this elaborate set the size of a city block and have sex with you on every feasible surface while said actors just casually go about their day. And maybe sometimes they glance over to you sometimes. And maybe, just maybe, they stop and film you a little bit.
Steve's surprised. He expected Eddie to falter, or be unsure. He's talked a lot about how it was hard for him to imagine his own future for a little while, that he lived somewhere between wild hope and survival, pay cheque to pay cheque. But Eddie's got a plan. A very detailed one, too.
Oh, you're scheming.
About you? Always. But, baby, I gotta go. I don't want to, but I gotta.
Go, go. Steve says, even though he doesn't want him to go. Message me when you can. Even though he knows Eddie will. He wants to say it anyway.
You know I will. I miss you already.
I miss you too. Steve hangs up the call and realises that once he’s fed Lucy and made himself lunch he has hardly any time left at all to get to work. He dresses quickly, heading out the door and grabbing coffee and a bagel on the way to work, eating it in his car as neatly as he can. He sends Chrissy a text once he’s at his desk.
Eddie and I are doing some long-distance play right now. If I go into subdrop, can I call you? I think I’ll be fine but just in case.
Her reply is just as chirpy and sunny as he expected.
Hii! Yes you can call me any time after 4:30 today so I hope that works— oh my god, have the best time 😘 YAY!
Thank you! He sends a text to Robin, too. They’ve been doing this thing where they exchange a photo of their cats with a matching cat from medieval art, the stranger and more haunted looking the better.
He inserts the black plug shortly after his meeting and does his best to breathe in and out before walking back to his desk. He loves the way he can feel his body pulse around it, adjusting to its shape. He loves how grounding it is and how he can feel Eddie near him with every beat of his heart.
I’m right here, baby. I’m right here with you.
Sometime after lunch, he masturbates in the bathroom at work which is so incredibly and delightfully risky but he finds nothing gives him courage like subbing for Eddie. He’s bold, he’s brash and he’s brazen because Eddie told him to take up space and he will take up space because he’s a slut and Eddie loves him for it.
He sends a photo of himself to Eddie and waits a few minutes before he leaves the bathroom, nursing his bitten cheek with his tongue. He runs his thumb and index finger along the waist chain beneath his opened button up shirt to soothe himself.
You’re so safe, he says to himself with each pass of the chain. You’re so pretty. You’re so, so loved.
Just as he’s washing his hands, he gets a text back from Eddie.
GOD look at you. I’d lick that come off you and spit it into your mouth. We need to do more play in public.
I’d love that, Daddy.
Oh I know you would. Are there wet spots on your fancy work shirt?
It doesn’t look too bad, actually.
I’m both proud of you for being so careful and stealthy and sad you aren’t covered in your own load.
I know! I’m gonna take out my plug soon, definitely before I drive home so I get home safe.
What a perfect little sub you are.
I love you.
I love you too, Stevie baby.
He removes his plug around 3:30PM and makes a note of how long he was able to wear his plug — from 11:45AM to 3:30PM! — and feels so, so proud of himself.
Steve gets a text from Baby offering to teach him in the ways of house husbandry for dinner tonight and he gratefully accepts. Lucy will be pissed if he comes home late, but Steve has a feeling if he gives him a plate of his ultra fancy wet food all will be forgiven.
He gets one last text from Eddie before he drives to Baby’s: Heading into a play party and then I think I’ll pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Miss you, Stevie.
Miss you too, Eddie. Going over to Baby’s for dinner and I think we’re gonna make a chicken congee dish.
FUCK off I want chicken congee so bad. 😭
Sleep well, Eddie.
Bye, loverboy.
“How many submissives does Reggie play with?” Steve asks Baby, adding the final handful of chopped garlic to the pan.
He and Baby are making a Filipino dish, arroz caldo— a type of Filipino congee made with crispy fried garlic and chicken thighs. According to Baby, you can use either glutinous rice or long grain rice, but if you don’t fry the garlic properly then it’s not truly arroz caldo.
But then, Baby is never the type to do anything halfway. It is the first of one of Steve’s many lessons in the art of being a house husband.
“Not including me, he has five,” Baby says, like he’s answered that question often enough that it is almost routine.
“Woah, one for almost every day of the week,” Steve smiles.
“But he doesn’t play with them all regularly. Some he only plays with once or twice a year. I don’t count the pick up scenes he does at parties and conventions, otherwise we’d be here all day, all night and most of tomorrow.”
“Did you ever feel jealous or possessive if you knew he was in a scene with someone else? Particularly if you weren’t there?” Steve asks as he pulls the ingredients out of the fridge. “I’m asking because Eddie’s in Germany for this week-long work thing and I thought you might have some advice.”
“Hm,” Baby thinks while he finishes finely chopping the ginger, his knife work almost as meticulous as he is.
“I was very possessive when we were younger,” he smirks. “We would go down to the dungeon a lot and he’d press me up against the wall and describe what he was going to do to me in vivid detail,” he says, a little dreamily. “And we used to have a lot of sex in public in those days. I think for Reggie, he was reclaiming what he felt was his right to sexual freedom, to fuck in public, wherever he wanted, because there was nothing wrong with being gay or gay sex. We came from a generation of hippies and free love so, I think that was part of it, too. But for me, it was very important that anyone I knew who was in the kink community saw us together.”
“Right. I feel like if you’re younger, feelings of jealousy or possessiveness can be so much more intense, too,” Steve says, peeling a papery thin layer of skin away from an onion. Baby nods, like it's something he's heard so many times before.
“To a lot of the people in the community he was Daddy, but to me, he was my Daddy. For a while, it was like, a numbers game. If someone had known him for this many years, well, I’d known him for longer. If someone had that many sessions with him, well I’d had as many as they’d had in one year,” he rolls his eyes. “Length of time was really important to me, I think because of how fragile all of our lives were at that time. But if they’d somehow known him longer than I had and had more sessions with him than I had, well then Reggie and I were fluid-bonded when his levels were low enough so I was a better submissive than this other submissive he had.”
“Being fluid-bonded was a big thing though,” Steve says, handing Baby one of the onions to chop. “It still is now, but back then I feel like it was such a massive display of trust.”
“Oh yeah. We were safe about it but I was this close to making a t-shirt so I could show off to everyone, y’know?” Baby nods. He makes quick work of the onion, dicing into small pieces. “I think one night I said something like, I’m your best submissive or something like that and he said, Baby, you’re my husband. We weren’t married ‘officially’ at that time, this was before the ceremony we had but he’d been calling me his husband for years by then.”
The kitchen smells beautifully fragrant, like garlic and onions and fried ginger, all steeped in oil. Like the beginning of something new, but also an inheritance, like an heirloom.
“And that reframing? That was everything I needed. Because suddenly, I wasn’t just his submissive anymore. I was his husband. There was no one else to compete with. He’d had boyfriends and partners and lovers before, but I was his first husband. I was his only husband. Nobody else knew how he liked his eggs or how he liked his socks to be folded or the home address of his childhood best friend. I knew those things, and I knew those things because I was his husband.”
Steve nods along emphatically. “Do you think there was anything that drove that feeling of possessiveness? Like, anything that was maintaining it?”
“Very early on in our relationship I noticed that a lot of his other play partners were switches. And, at the time, we hadn't quite learnt how to talk to each other. So I assumed that he wanted me to be a switch and that he didn’t know how to ask me to switch. One night, I tried to switch with him—”
“Like, be his dom?” Steve asks.
“...sort of,” Baby snorts. “I laugh about it now. I tried to switch with him and he was like, Baby, what are you doing? And I started babbling like, I don’t want you to get bored of me because I’m always a bratty bottom and he was like, I want you, Baby, and if you’re a bratty power bottom, be a bratty power bottom. I realised then that his other play partners had nothing to do with me.”
“Right, he wasn’t looking to play with people who were different from you, he was just looking to play with other people.”
“Who all happened to be switches, yeah,” Baby nods. He starts to butcher a chicken with a small pair of scissors and short, sharp presses from a knife.
“I feel like…” Steve pauses, looking for the most considerate way to say what he wants to say. “There can be a real emphasis on sexual flexibility on the community now. Or at least, it feels like some people who are switches can have a real inflated sense of superiority with that. If you know yourself you shouldn’t have to feel pressured to confirm your preferences before you try them.”
“You mean the people who are like, I’m more open-minded than the average twink, I can switch halfway through a scene, my partners don’t have to cater to me and they come to every single party and boast about how flexible and chill they are?” Baby says, with a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah,” Steve grins with relief, grateful Baby understands him. And that Baby isn’t afraid to be unflinchingly honest, which at times might look like being bitchy. But anyone who thinks that hasn’t seen Baby being bitchy. “I feel like Eddie’s a bit like that,” Steve continues. “But he admits to it. And I think that peacocking and that pride works well when he’s with his clients because he empowers them to own their kinks and fetishes. I found his confidence very welcoming, but I feel like it can exclude, as well.”
“Mhm,” Baby agrees. “Eddie said a while ago that his pretentious opinions about music transferred over to kinks and sex and I’m not sure which is better or worse, to be honest.” He smiles. “I don’t think he’s as bad as he claims to be. But a part of that confidence comes from the fact that he’s the one professional guy in town who will do play sessions with someone who has a vanilla pudding and latex balloon kink or the chainsaw kink guy or the blowjob milkshake guy or the emetophilia girl whatever. It doesn’t matter how freaky it is, Eddie’s down to do it.”
“Wait, wait, back up,” Steve says, looking at Baby. “Blowjob milkshake guy?”
“Wait,” Baby stops, caught off guard. “You haven’t met him yet? God, I envy your unfamiliarity. I wish I could go back to that.”
“Well now you have to tell me,” Steve says, smiling all the way up to his eyes.
Baby seems to consider it, looking at the stove and ingredients spread out around the kitchen. Then, he decides against it. “...Not while we’re making food.” He wipes his hands on his apron and turns back to the counter. “You know how to measure rice with your hand, right?”
“Like with your finger?” Steve asks. “I think so. Can you show me what you mean?”
Baby gets a beautiful ceramic cup that doesn’t look like it would respond directly to any metric system Steve knows and digs it into the bag of rice at the bottom of their pantry.
Baby rinses the rice once, twice, then a third time. “So you just—” Baby shrugs and fills the pot with chicken stock, then checks it by dipping his finger in. “—until the first joint on your finger.”
“And your hand doesn’t touch the bottom of the pot, right? Just the top of the rice?”
Baby blinks, as if that never occurred to him. “No, no. No. Just until it’s… yeah.” He laughs. “What was I saying?” He asks himself. “Oh, yeah. Community and confidence in your kink and everything. I feel like Eddie’s still very bold, but he’s mellowed out since we first met him so many years ago. He’s not as pretentious now. But that all comes with age and experience and meeting your community.”
“I feel like that experience piece is so important though. When I first started taking part in the kink scene, I didn’t want to take up space at all. Eddie had to show me how,” Steve says.
“A lot of people need permission when they first start to play, though, even in private. I mean, I never did.” Baby smirks and looks as mischievous as his bratty reputation suggests he might be.
“Yeah. But then when I look at younger people who are taking part in the scene for the first time there’s this feeling that like, they want to push people out because they feel like their space is being infringed upon and it’s like—” Steve sighs and adds the diced pieces of chicken to the pan, letting the flavours mingle together. “Nobody is gonna take this space away from you.”
“I mean, we all fought hard so people could take up that space, right?” Baby says. “So it’s hard to watch someone push another person out for some arbitrary ‘I don’t like your kink’ reason. Like, sorry, we didn’t gain this space by creating ‘likeable’ kinks.” He rolls his eyes. “But I think I do understand it in a way. If that space is so sacred to you, because that’s the only space you have to be yourself, it’s hard to let anyone come near it. I was possessive with Reggie. I wanted every single moment I could possibly have with him because, after his diagnosis, I was so sure he’d be taken from me.”
Steve checks the recipe and realises that they didn’t add the aromatics to the rice, so he scrapes his knife along the cutting board and adds them in. He doesn’t say anything because there are some stories you can’t add to or interrupt.
“We had a shrine in the house we lived in before this one.” He looks off, through the kitchen window, as though it’s within his line of sight. “And it was full of these beautiful photos and memorial cards and dried, pressed funeral flowers from all our friends who died. And I desperately, desperately didn’t want to have to put Reggie on that shelf.” Baby looks up at the ceiling like he might cry if he doesn’t.
“I wanted every single moment I could possibly have with Reggie because I was so sure he was going to die. And when he was going to die, I needed him to die in my arms, because I’d lost too many friends who died in hospital hallways waiting for beds and died from trialing a new drug that did nothing and who committed suicide because they didn’t want to die from AIDS.”
“So when people asked to hang out with him, or do a session with him, I’d be like, well, are you worth it? Are you good enough for him? Are you good enough for my Reggie?”
“You were a thief,” Steve says, like it explains everything. And maybe it does. “Every single kiss felt like it was stolen. Every embrace was sacred. Every touch was forbidden either by lawmakers or by bigots or by disease. That’s powerful.”
“Yeah,” Baby nods, still entirely in the kitchen with Steve but standing somewhere else, wading into his memories. “Every time we had sex it was like, will this be the last time? And that made it so much more romantic and also so, so, so much hotter if you can believe that.”
“I believe that. You have a beautiful partnership, and a beautiful history and a beautiful home.”
And Steve does believe that. He wants a house like the one Reggie and Baby have. He wants a home with Eddie. He wants a home with a little breakfast nook in the kitchen, a space for all of their shared records and LPs, and a sunny spot for Lucy to nap. He wants all of it — even something as small as a cup for rice that has no metric equivalent with its own little story.
He wants a house. He wants a home. And he wants one with Eddie.
“Thank you,” Baby says. “I think so too.”
“I’m just looking at the recipe,” Steve says, reading it over again. “It doesn’t say how long we simmer the rice for.”
“Oh,” Baby opens his mouth as though he’s about to supply the answer but then he closes it. “I—well,” he laughs. “You simmer it until it’s… done,” he grins. “My god this is hilarious I can’t believe I don’t know how long to cook arroz caldo for.”
“Would you say like, 30 to 45 minutes or so? Roughly? From start to finish?” Steve grabs a pen so he can make a note.
“I mean,” Baby shrugs, “I think so? Like, that’s about how long the rice would take to cook. And you do want to make sure the chicken is cooked all the way through, too." He bites his cheek. “Oh my god. This is so funny. I would text my mom but there’s no way she would know, and my lola did everything by feel.”
“Is that your grandma?”
“Yeah. She used to measure out everything by hand, or by this one specific cup she had in her house,” he laughs.
“Like the cup you used to measure your rice that looks like it doesn't match to any system?" Steve grins. "I’m gonna set a timer. And we’ll see how long it takes.”
“Do it, please, I’m curious now,” Baby laughs. “Oh, yeah, let’s boil the eggs so they’re ready to add in at the end. I like to leave them a little jammier in the middle. I don’t know if that’s traditional, but that's how my family did it. And I don’t give a fuck, so.” He fills a small pot with water and sets it on the stove to let it come to a boil.
Diva runs to the window facing the driveway and leaps onto a piece of furniture so she’s as tall as she can possibly be.
“Is Daddy home?” Baby asks her and she barks excitedly. “I think Daddy’s home.”
The car door slams and Steve recognises Reggie’s heavy step heading towards the door. He opens it and immediately catches Diva gently with the toe of his boot, keeping her away from the door. “Yes, hi, yes,” Reggie says, speaking directly to her. “Can I say hi to my husband?”
Diva barks in a way Steve could only describe as indignant while Reggie and Baby briefly kiss each other on the mouth. Then, many things happen at once. Reggie takes off his jacket, Baby hangs it on a hook and removes his phone and keys from the pockets, placing them on a side table. Reggie sits down on a bench to take off his boots but Baby’s already there, untying his laces. He pulls off Reggie’s boots all while Reggie insists that if Baby is going to help him with every little thing, Reggie will ask about him and his day before he answers any questions about himself.
“But I want to ask about you and your day,” Baby retorts in a way that Steve thinks is familiar. “I haven’t seen you for 9 whole hours.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t I know it.”
“Steve’s here. We’re making arroz caldo and we’re gonna have dinner. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay. Was that in the calendar?”
“We hadn’t firmed up plans yet, so it’s in there but you probably didn’t see it yet.”
“Sounds about right.” Reggie rounds the corner into the kitchen and claps Steve on the shoulder. “Hi, Steve. How are you?”
“Good,” Steve says, smiling. “Dinner’s almost done. I’m learning how to be a house husband.”
“And learning from the best, I see,” Reggie grins and pulls a beer out of the fridge. He rummages in a drawer beside it, looking for a bottle opener. Baby grabs the bottle opener from its spot on top of the counter and hooks the cap till it falls to the floor.
“Oh, thank you.”
Steve has a feeling this happens a lot in their house.
Reggie closes the fridge door and cringes when he straightens his back.
“Bend over the counter,” Baby says, waiting for him. Once Reggie’s bent over the counter Baby slots his elbow into Reggie’s lower back and gradually starts to add pressure.
“Ah-haha fuck,” Reggie says, trying to laugh his way through the discomfort.
“Better?” Baby asks after Reggie straightens.
“A little bit, thank you.”
Steve has a feeling this happens a lot in their house.
“We’re having arroz caldo, right? God, how many times did you make this in the 90’s? I swear,” Reggie takes a pull of his beer and turns to Steve. “Sounds morbid, maybe, but if one of my friends was really sick, Baby would make them arroz caldo and suddenly they’d perk up, like, oh shit, Baby’s making arroz caldo? I swear it has healing properties in it or something.”
“I feel like I’m inheriting a family recipe,” Steve says. “Eddie did text me to say he’s so sad that he’s missing arroz caldo tonight.”
“It does have healing properties. It also tastes even better when people don’t lift the lid and disturb the rice while it’s cooking,” Baby says pointedly while he lowers eggs into boiling water.
“I’m stirring it so the rice doesn’t get burned,” Reggie says, like he’s trying to be helpful.
“Bullshit you are,” Baby says, rolling his eyes. “You're trying to eat it right out of the pot like you always do, asshole. You’re disrupting my delicate balance of flavours.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Yes I can,” Baby says simply. “And I will.”
Steve has a feeling this happens a lot in their house.
The rice takes about 25 minutes to cook, so it takes about 35 minutes altogether, as Baby predicted. Steve adds two halves of an egg to each bowl and some fried garlic too.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” Steve asks, watching Baby chop green onions so swiftly and neatly.
“Oh, knife skills?” Baby asks over his shoulder. “Yeah, of course. But you have to promise only to use lime, key lime or calamansi, which is a Filipino lime, okay? Never use lemons.”
“Okay. No lemons, only limes. Got it. Is calamansi different to the limes we have here?” Steve asks.
“It’s a little bit sweeter and not as acidic but it’s the closest in flavour profile. Down in Florida they use a much riper version than I’m used to and they make all kinds of jams and marmalades with it.”
“Did you tell him not to use lemons in the arroz caldo?” Reggie asks. “But you made arroz caldo with lemon once and it was really good.”
“Ah ah ah, shut your mouth,” Baby says, firmly. “God, you struggle to remember anything after that one drug trial in the 90’s but you remember the one time I used lemon in my arroz caldo.”
“It was really good!” Reggie says, defensively.
Baby looks at Steve like he’s never been more tired in his life.
“No lemons,” Steve says, with a nod.
“No lemons,” Baby concurs, taking one bowl and then another to their little dining nook. “Let’s eat.”
Lucy meows boisterously when Steve arrives home, protesting the fact that Steve is 4 minutes late to bring him his dinner. “I’m sorry, handsome,” Steve says while Lucy weaves between his legs, his outraged tail flicking back and forth. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
He sets down his keys, takes off his jacket and shoes while Lucy continues to interrogate him. The cat herds him closer to his food bowl and chirps joyfully when Steve reaches into the pantry to grab him his wet food. “Chicken and rice stew, you think?”
Lucy meows vigorously and Steve nods. “Then we’ll match, hey?” He has to push Lucy away from the can while he peels the top off and dumps the wet food into his bowl.
After he eats, Lucy isn’t nearly as vocal as he was earlier. It’s only when Steve cleans up Eddie's space a little that he sees the Steve journal still left out on Eddie’s desk that he remembers he forgot to text Eddie to ask him about it.
Hey, there’s a journal in your desk with my name on it. Was this meant for me, or is it something else?
To distract himself from reading it in case he isn't supposed to, he puts it away in a drawer. The drawer below it is marked Expenses! Taxes and Shit and has a tiny piece of paper sticking out. Steve opens it with the aim of tucking it back inside so Lucy doesn't eat it but the drawer explodes with a flutter of rolled receipt paper.
"Oh, Eddie," Steve says, with half a laugh. "I think I've found the peak of your executive dysfunction."
There's no system, no method to the madness, it's just a wad of unfinished paperwork that Steve quickly realises is meant for Eddie's taxes. Lucy dives for the receipt pile, swatting them with his paws. Steve sifts through the pile and realises that essentially, all Eddie needs is 12 boxes, one for each month, with a couple extra for anything else he might need.
"You be gentle with those," Steve warns him tenderly. "I'm gonna find some boxes." He'd planned on staying up late anyway, so now he has an ideal excuse. To keep himself company, he turns on an episode of the Lavender Lessons podcast.
"Welcome to the Lavender Lessons podcast, I’m one of your hosts, Robin. This is my wife Chrissy,” she pauses so Chrissy can say hi into the microphone. “The aim of this podcast is to teach you all the things you never learnt in school. We focus on queer history, unlearning the education unhelpfully bestowed upon us by a colonial state and exploring how the personal is always political. This episode is definitely rated 18+ and please check the description of this episode for further trigger warnings. What did we do last episode, Chrissy?”
“Last episode we discussed the unrelenting violence and decades of government inaction against Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls and Two Spirit people. We discussed that violence along with the world’s fascination with true crime, as well as some grass roots movements you can support.
“If you are Indigenous and fall into one of these categories you face violence that is ten times higher than the national average. Homicide is the third leading cause of death among Indigenous girls women aged 10 to 24, and the fifth leading cause of death for Indigenous women aged 25 to 34.
“If you live in Canada and you fit under these categories you are six times more likely to die than any other girl or woman in Canada. It is vital that we, as allies, step up and demand not only justice and peace for the families of these victims, but for our government to stop the legacy of violence and generational trauma by addressing key failures in their own systems, brought on by systemic colonialism, racism, sexism and queerphobia and transphobia. It is an honour and our duty to do this work, and we will continue this work for as long as we have to, because none of us are free until all of us are free.”
“A beautiful summary, Chrissy,” Nancy says.
“Thank you, D—” Chrissy claps her hand over her mouth and laughs. “I almost— okay, nevermind.”
“I caught that,” Reggie says, laughing deeply. “You’re good.”
"Robin!” Chrissy says, rallying. “Please introduce our guests.”
“Okay,” Robin laughs. “So this episode we have our favourite kink experts joining us once again. We have the lovely Miss Nancy, Eddie, Reggie and I think, for the first time ever, we have Reggie’s husband Baby also on our podcast. Welcome everyone, but a special welcome to Baby, we are super excited to have you for this bumper episode.”
“Aw, thank you,” Baby’s sweet voice comes in and it’s a little surreal for Steve to hear him digitally rather than in real life. “I’ve been listening to you guys for years. I think the first episode I listened to was about how we undervalue women’s work and the myth of unskilled labour? And how stay-at-home moms should have a six figure salary, according to their level of work?”
“That was a long time ago, wow.” It sounds like Robin’s smiling. “Good memory.”
“He does have a good memory,” Reggie says, emphatically. “I’d be lost without him.”
“How many non-profit board meetings and grant writing planning sessions and community meetings did you have to cancel to come on the podcast, Baby?” Eddie asks.
“Too many,” Baby says with a giggle. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll get started otherwise we’ll sit around and chat and never get started. So, in case we have any new listeners the format of these types of episodes is basically just a Q&A — people submit questions to our email and then we ask them as well as questions of our own. This one is a question for Nancy,” Robin says. “A listener wants to know why you identify specifically as a lesbian dominatrix. Was that a business decision or driven by community, like, what led you to that decision?”
“I described myself as a lesbian dominatrix because that’s what I am,” Nancy replies. “And then everyone around me was telling me that it was career suicide and I wouldn’t get any customers who were cis men because they would be totally turned off by it.”
“And then what did you do, Miss Nancy?” Eddie asks, speaking with his lips so close to the microphone, as if he were whispering a secret.
“Then I said I was a lesbian dominatrix out of spite.”
Steve can’t see her but he has a feeling she might’ve tossed her curls back and pushed her shoulders back like she does when she knows she’s right. “And then something really interesting happened. I had a really long waitlist because I guess, these cis men had convinced themselves that they would be the one to convert me to being…straight, I guess?”
“Oh my god.” Steve can almost hear the way Robin rolls her eyes. “Even the idea of that pisses me off.”
"See, that shit doesn’t make sense to me,” Reggie replies. “I know it’s sexism. It’s all sexism and homophobia. But if I wanted to advertise myself I’d say I was a gay dom and nobody would give a fuck about it. But because she’s a woman, people tell her it’s a bad idea. And then these guys think they’re gonna convert her?”
“The most important follow-up question, though,” Baby says, then pauses. “Sorry—can I—?” It sounds like he’s looking to Robin and Chrissy for permission.
“Yes! Please!” Chrissy says, her earrings tinkling as she nods her head.
Steve pauses the podcast to fire off a text to Chrissy.
I’m listening to one of your podcast episodes and I think I heard your earrings. Which ones were you wearing?
He sends a screenshot of the podcast episode, along with the date and she starts to type.
Ooh! Good question! I think I have a selfie from the day we recorded the episode. Let me see 👀
Steve finds some stickers to label the boxes he'll use and resumes the episode.
“Okay, so the most important question is, do you get clients who come to you specifically because you said you were a lesbian dominatrix?”
“Yes, yes I do. I get a lot of first-time clients who said the reason they booked with me was because I was a lesbian. I get a lot of sapphic or bi women who say they only feel comfortable with me because I said I was a lesbian. I’ve heard similar sentiments from trans people and I’ve also had cis men who almost had to cancel their sessions with me after their wife found out, but then their wife was okay with it once he said I was a lesbian."
"I love that being a lesbian secured your financial stability,” Robin says. “That’s so powerful.”
“Thank you,” Nancy says, warmly. “I love it too.”
“Robin, here’s one for you,” Chrissy says, affectionately.
“For me?” Robin’s voice lifts in surprise. “Normally I’m the one asking the questions in these kink Q&As. I love being included.”
“Robin, you’ve said previously that you’re asexual and sometimes sex-repulsed. Do you ever attend events with me and if so, what is that like for you?"
"Oh! Yes, I've attended some. I don't attend the parties or anything like that, because the guest list is usually pretty small. But I've attended like, conventions and classes before. I will say, they don't really interest me, but, above all, the most powerful thing I've found is that I can leave any time I want."
"Yeah," Eddie agrees.
"Like, if it's too much, if it's too sexy, if I am not in the mood I can leave. Just that knowledge alone has given me so much permission and I'll often end up staying longer because of that."
"I think a lot of people can, sometimes, build up parties or kink conventions or classes in their head, right, because it's this big, deeply intimate part of you that you so rarely get to explore, but actually, at the end of the day, it's a bunch of people hanging out and talking about their weird hobbies," Eddie offers. "Which is why I love it."
"Do you have any advice for someone who is asexual and goes through periods of sex repulsion?"
"Me?" Robin echoes. "Go in with an open mind and don't push yourself to stay. You can even take a break and just go for a walk outside and come back in, but don't compromise on your comfort."
"Don't compromise on your comfort," Baby says. "I love that."
"That's your newest sound bite right there," Eddie says.
Chrissy texts Steve a photo of her and Baby smiling into the camera. She's wearing long, glittery guillotine earrings with little beads of red for blood.
I think it was these guillotine ones 💖🔪
Steve sends her a reply.
I love that, love you, thanks for making such a long episode. I'm trying to stay up until Eddie says good morning.
Good luck, love you too!
“So, we had a listener who wanted to know how Eddie met Reggie, his dom?” Robin asks.
“I love this story,” Baby says, happily. “It’s so cute.”
“Oh, this is a very embarrassing story,” Eddie laughs. “So I moved here like, god, how many years ago? Doesn’t matter. I was like, already kinky so I was exploring the scene around here a fair bit, and basically I would get into a scene with someone and then we would be really enjoying it and then I’d say something and they’d basically need to use their safe word to exit the scene.
And then I’d be like, wait, come back, all I need for you to do is to trace this knife menacingly along my t-dick and then threaten to castrate me! Please choke me until the light in my eyes starts to dim! Or like, please break my nose so that every time I breathe all I can think of is this scene, stuff like that.
And every time they’d say their safe word and be like, this isn’t gonna work because I can’t go as hard as you need me to, you need to find someone else.”
“Right, they were like, sorry I can’t actually get in the headspace to be a city conquering insane Roman emperor and you a poor helpless enslaved boy about to be cannibalised,” Chrissy laughs.
“Did you read my journal because I swear to god that’s in there almost beat for beat. Anyway, everyone would always say the same thing: The person I would recommend is called Reggie. You need to go see Reggie. But nobody like! Told me where to find him! Or like, what nights he came to the dungeon or whatever. So I was like, who is this mythical Reggie and how do I get him to beat the shit out of me?
"I can’t remember if it was Nancy,” he pauses, as if he’s making eye contact with them. “Or Chrissy who told me to go see Reggie, but then actually said: he’s back from his sabbatical, his birthday’s coming up in two weeks, here’s the address, you should go. And I was like alright, it’s finally happening, finally I’m gonna have a man to actually brutalise me the way I want him to.”
“And make you feel beautiful doing it,” Chrissy adds, helpfully.
“Exactly, amen. So, I arrived at this party late because I was fussing over what to wear or whatever.”
Steve smiles sleepily at the image of Eddie absolutely destroying his closet while he rummages through it, looking for the matching cuff that goes with his harness but where the fuck is it—?
“I get there and I’m looking for Reggie and I’m looking for Reggie and finally we like, almost run into each other. And then he apologises and as he’s walking away I see some of his tattoo on his back so I was like this is the guy. So I was like, hey, are you Reggie? And he was like, that’s generally what people call me, yeah.”
“I’m sorry Eddie but your approximation of Reggie’s voice is so funny because Reggie’s sitting right here,” Robin laughs.
“I know, he has the sexiest voice ever but then when I try to copy it I just end up sounding like a muppet. Anyway — I ran into Reggie and I was like: so, first of all, happy birthday, second of all, I’d like for you to dom me. We don’t know each other but I kept getting you recommended as a dom for me. I like it really hard. I like it rough. I like pain. So if there’s any way we could figure something out, and like, do a small scene together, that would be great. Whenever you’re free, at your earliest convenience, please let me know.
And Reggie’s like nodding, nodding, drinks some of his beer and then sets it down and says: Okay. Take off your jacket. Lie down on the coffee table.” He’s taking off his jacket and he rips off his belt. At this point, my brain is making an internet dial up sound, y’know, the, beebeebeeprrreeeaaaabrrrAAAAhhhh—”
“Wait, back up. I need to stim with you,” Robin says, giggling. They mimic each other for a few moments, going back and forth, restarting and continuing their internet dial up sound one after the other.
“Oh my god,” Chrissy laughs. “I love when you stim together but, can we please finish Eddie’s story?”
Steve's got some of November, some of February and some other receipts he's not sure about, so, before he dives deep into the layers of Eddie's expenses drawer, he needs to get the one from Lucy's mouth. He pauses his podcast because Lucy tends to misbehave even more if he knows Steve isn't fully paying attention to him.
"Can I have that please?" Steve asks, reaching down. Lucy gives Steve his little black paw. "That's a lovely paw, thank you handsome, but I do actually need the—hey!"
Instead of fighting with him, Steve just walks to the kitchen and shakes Lucy's treat bag until he springs up onto the counter. "Thank you." Steve says, taking it from Lucy's mouth, teeth marks and all. "Daddy needs his receipt for… 128 Swiss Navy Premium Water Based Lubricant, H20 based Boy Butter, Premium Anal Sex Lube, Super Silk White Cum Lube…Jesus Christ, is this all just lube?"
Steve presses play on the podcast and tosses a treat on the floor for Lucy to find.
“Right!” Eddie says, brought back to his task. “...where was I?”
“I told you to lie down on the coffee table.”
“Oh, right, yeah, anyway, so— wait, why don’t you tell this part?” Eddie says to Reggie.
Reggie hums. “I took off my belt. I told him to take off his jacket and lie down on the coffee table and then I said tell me to stop and I’ll stop, say red and I’ll stop. I started warming him up.”
“Did it feel weird?” Robin asks. “Like, whipping this… I mean, this stranger with basically no preparation?”
“Nah,” Reggie says, so easily it couldn’t’ve been a lie. “It was in my house, on my birthday. It was a pick up scene. Reminded me of when I was young and used to cruise around the dungeon looking for a partner. Just like the good old days.
“Then my husband comes up to me and says, something like, don’t forget your candles and cake, or something. Right?”
“Yeah,” Baby says, confirming. “I told you don’t forget to blow out your candles.”
“Right. And then he looks down and he’s like oh! Who’s this?” Reggie starts to laugh. “And I didn’t know who it was. So I said, you wanna tell my husband who you are? He said, hi, I’m Eddie, thanks for… all of this, or something, and I said, Eddie, this is Baby, Baby, this is Eddie. And then I went back to whipping the shit out of him. And then I went and blew out my candles and had cake.”
“Reggie, you are being far too generous in your retelling of this story. So, he starts warming me up, Baby comes along and Reggie says to introduce myself. And at this point, dear listeners,” Eddie says, like he’s speaking directly to the audience. “I realised I’d fucking forgotten to give this man my name. So I said, hi, I’m Eddie, thanks for everything. All the while, Reggie is still hitting me, very gently, with his belt. Baby says, aw, this is so cute! He leaves, meanwhile, dear listeners, I’m dying of mortification because I asked this man to dom me before he even knew my name.”
“You were embarrassed about that? Huh,” Reggie sounds a little surprised, like it’s something he hadn’t considered before.
“That’s like, old-school cruising though,” Robin says, coming to Eddie’s defense. “People often didn’t know each other’s names. Or they gave fake names.”
“Okay that does make me feel marginally better,” Eddie says. “Thank you, Robin.”
"You're so welcome, Eddie."
“But were you embarrassed about being whipped in front of a room full of strangers?” Nancy asks.
“Absolutely not, Nancy, one, because I’m a whore, and two because if Reggie doesn’t whip someone in front of everyone at one of his parties, then it’s not one of Reggie’s parties.”
“That is true,” Baby agrees.
“And your life was changed forever,” Chrissy giggles.
“I do have a rather embarrassing Pavlovian response to the happy birthday song and impact play that I would rather not talk about.” Steve gets the feeling Eddie’s mumbling tone suggests he really doesn’t want to talk about it. Baby giggles playfully and Steve has a feeling he’ll never let Eddie forget the one piece of that night he’d rather not recall.
"Am I allowed to ask a question?" Eddie says, softly into the microphone.
"Go for it," Robin says.
"How did Reggie get the name Reggie?" Eddie asks. "Because it's not his actual name."
"So when I was a teenager we had this horse named Reggie. He was an old work horse, but he was so reliable. Didn't matter what you were doing or how hard you had to work or how far you had to go, Reggie would do it. But if he didn't like it, he'd let you know. So he'd stop and you'd have to like, c'mon Reggie, get up, and he'd go again."
"So I started saying it to myself when I knew I had to do something, y'know, like before my driver's test I was like c'mon Reggie, get up."
So I was with my lover, Matt, and we were at, either some club or a bathhouse or something. And I made some comment about, 'it'd be great just once, to fuck everybody in here' or something like that.
And he said, 'Is that right?'"
"Oh my god," Baby giggles. "I just got goosebumps, I swear."
"And I was like 'sure, yeah, it'd be hot' or whatever. And I guess he filed that away."
"So then we have our next sex party thing and we walk in and Matt says, okay, you're gonna have sex with that person. And I'm like, okay, let's do it. So I had sex with this one guy, and then another guy, and by the third guy I'm thinking like, was he serious? Nah, no way. No way he was serious. Then I look up and there's like, a line, coming into the bedroom I'm in so I'm like, okay, he was very serious," Reggie laughs.
"At one point, he was standing over by the window looking down onto the street and touching his fingers like he's counting, right, and I'm like, no way there's a line out the door for this. No way."
"I'm wore out, my dick's not hard anymore, my thighs are like burning and I'm struggling, but I know I gotta keep going, 'cause Matt hasn't said I can stop. So under my breath I say to myself, c'mon Reggie, get up. And Matt leans in real close and grabs me by the hair and says, what did you say? So I repeated what I said, and he says, you want me to call you Reggie? Alright. And he whipped me right across the ass and said, C'mon Reggie get up. So then I got up," Reggie laughs.
Steve remembers the session he'd just had with Reggie and Eddie. How he was bound by his hips, connected to Eddie, fucking him even though he didn't think he could keep going. He wanted to keep going, he just didn't know how. He remembers tasting his own sweat, how everything in him ached, how he couldn't quite catch his breath.
And then Reggie whipped him and he felt powerful enough to keep going. To keep going as long as Eddie wanted him to.
"And then what happened?" Chrissy asks.
"And then the next morning I wake up and he's like, G'morning Reggie, would you like some coffee Reggie? And I'm like, okay he's keeping it up for the bit or whatever. But I didn't mind, also 'cause like, in those days having another name you used when you were cruising or at a party or something was super common. And then I realised it was really a thing when all of my friends were calling me Reggie, even when he wasn't around. And then when he died I didn't wanna go back to my old name. So I didn't."
"God, what a beautiful story," Eddie says. "God!"
"Thanks," Reggie says, with a laugh. "It's a wild one."
“Baby, I did have a question for you, actually. I’m trying to think of the best way to word it.” It sounds like Chrissy is chewing her lip while she thinks. “What’s it like being in a community that claims to care about diversity and anti-racism and radical praxis and then walk in and be one of the few people of colour in the room?”
“I mean,” Baby sighs. “It happens a lot. Like today! Right now. I am the only brown person in this room. So, I'll be speaking to the racialised members of your audience, okay?"
"Okay," Robin says. "You have the floor, Baby."
"Make your own club. Make your own space. And guard it with your life."
"I would go to these events like parties and conventions and dungeon nights and I noticed like, all my white friends could make it. But none of my Black friends or indigenous or brown or Asian friends could make it. So I started asking around and it was like, they couldn't take the time off work because they couldn't afford it, or they couldn't find childcare, or they had to pay an outstanding parking ticket, so they couldn't park there. So I was like, fuck it, I'm gonna throw a party and white people are gonna pay for my friends to attend."
"That's beautiful," Robin says, sincerely. "I love that."
"Thank you. So Reggie donated some money, then other white people started donating money because Reggie donated," Baby says, with a little bit of laughter in his voice. "And I held the first one and it was so healing," Baby continues, pausing for a moment. "It was so healing to be surrounded by people who are not white. After, everyone came up to me and was like, this was so good because every time I go into a queer space, I'm met with racism, and every time I go into a space that's like culturally relevant I'm met with homophobia and transphobia, but in this space I got neither. In this space, I was welcomed, and celebrated and adored, all parts of me. We finally had a space that was just for us."
"That's so big, and so special," Chrissy says, gently. "What a gift, oh my god."
"So I made it a reoccurring thing and I called it Kink in Colour. It was really messy for like, the first five months or so while we were sorting out the venue and the guest list and everything. And we were really struggling at first because people would be bouncers, at the door basically, and they'd be called slurs or abused or whatever. So, I called everyone together and I was like, look. I know we said no white people, but I do think we need someone who isn't one of us to guard the door because we need to keep us safe."
"So I got Reggie and another butch to guard the door, and if you know of Reggie's reputation to run bigoted assholes out of town—" Baby says, leaving the answer open.
"Ohh," Eddie says. "That's where he got it. I feel like everything is clicking into place right now."
"Yes, that's where that came from. So, it was really good for a while. We were doing scenes that I think a lot of white neoliberal people would find offensive, but they were our scenes and they were so beautiful. But then white people started saying like, if I'm paying into it, I should be allowed to attend."
"No," Robin says, sighing audibly into the mic. "Oh my god, shut up. Sorry for interrupting Baby."
Baby laughs. "It's okay. So, white people started to say like, well I'm an ally, and I've given you so much money so I should be allowed to attend. Or they'd be like I don't actually want to participate I just want to see how you run it so I can run my own thing and it's like, no," Baby laughs again. "No."
"I feel like it gets worse," Nancy says, cautiously into the mic.
"Oh yeah. I had white people telling me that my marriage to Reggie was just another form of colonisation because he's white and that if I really wanted to run this club properly, I had to divorce him and marry a person of colour."
"What the fuck," Nancy says passionately. "What the fuck!"
"Yeah, and like, obviously I didn't tell them any of this, and nor is it any of their business, but Reggie is one of the few people alive who remembers my first real love. Reggie was there when Bo died. And he was really fucking funny, and if I repeat one of his jokes to Reggie, Reggie laughs every time, even if he doesn't remember that my dead lover told that joke."
"Wait," Reggie says. "Do I remember them? Which ones?"
"Yeah, you remember. There's the one about the shopping cart with the squeaky wheel, remember?"
Reggie laughs loudly and unapologetically, like he's thrown his head back away from the microphone. "Oh yeah, that's a good one."
"See?" Baby says quietly, speaking to everyone in the room. "I need that."
"You do need that," Eddie agrees.
"Then these same people who told me I'm a coloniser apologist turn around and are like 'oh my god, Baby, we're starting a commune and you have to come with us. We're gonna buy this acreage and we're gonna live off the land and we're gonna have chickens and make bread and we're gonna have kink nights."
"Yeah and there's always one person who has a cousin or an uncle somewhere and they're like, no, guys, you don't get it, like we could actually buy land," Robin adds.
"Yes, oh my god. And it's like, okay but you haven't thought about the fact that you would be a white person buying indigenous land. Even though there's so much nuance there that I won't even get into. Or that I'm an only child and a son and my mom is going to come live with me when she's ready, because it's my responsibility to care for her when she's older. And they haven't thought about that and it's like, of course you didn't think about that, you're white," Baby says.
"Right, like our lived realities are totally different in so many ways. Beautiful ways, but totally different ways," Chrissy says.
"Anyway, the only reason I won best submissive 7 years in a row is because neoliberal white guilt swayed the election that many times," Baby sighs. "Even when I didn't want to be nominated."
"Reggie's looking at Baby like, but you are the best sub to me, Baby," Eddie says, doing his best Reggie impression.
"Yes," Baby says, a little tired. "And I love him. And that is not the point."
"What is the point, Baby?" Eddie asks.
"To bring it all home: If you're going to make a land acknowledgement, saying the names of the indigenous tribes correctly would be a start. Do not read them off your phone because almost all of those communities carry an incredible powerful oral tradition which means you need to honour that tradition. Refusing to learn how to pronounce someone's name is racist and saying 'Oh I'm just a stupid American' is not an excuse. You can learn.
"If you are the type of person who looks around at their thanksgiving dinners and is like, oh this is a really good balance of different ethnicities, you need to stop that. If the only time you contact your brown friends or Black friends or whatever friends is to ask them to speak to a group of people for a pride event, you need to be a better friend. And most of all, do you see how Reggie hasn't said a thing this entire time?"
"Can learn a lot just by listenin'," Reggie says, like it's not a big deal. "He needs space to speak, so I gotta be quiet. And he's right."
"And! He's! Right!" Eddie echoes.
"Thank you, Baby," Nancy says. "That was lovely. And powerful."
"We love you Baby," Robin says, warmly.
"Yes, we love you Baby," Chrissy says.
"You're welcome, I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to, so. What's the next question?" Baby asks. "I'm so nosy. I want to know everyone's business."
"We'll let you pick the questions for next month's episode," Chrissy says, with what sounds like a smile.
"Will you?" Baby gasps. "I love that."
“Okay, we have another question from a subscriber," Robin says. "It says ‘My romantic partner and I have been doing 24/7 d/s over the weekend but we want to transition into doing it full time. How do we do that?"
“I would say you have to define what 24/7 means for you." Nancy says. "Because, actually, if you do 24/7 protocols for the entire time that you agree to do 24/7 protocols, then you're doing those dynamics 24/7. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Eddie says. "Like if Monday to Friday you're a committed couple, and then Friday night at 6PM, you launch into protocols and you stay that way until Monday morning, then you've completed the entire length of that agreement."
"Oh, right, so you're saying that the 24/7 dom and sub dynamic can extend to the boundary of any agreement you make," Robin says. Steve can see the look on her face now, how she tilts her head back and forth, considering, weighing, thinking in that thoughtful way she does. He loves Robin so much.
"I think there are a lot of expectations around 24/7 protocols and so much of that comes from what you think it is, like Miss Nancy said," Chrissy says.
"I do it very rarely, and if I do it's for work," Eddie says. "And when I do it for work, I usually don't sleep very well because I'm just thinking, turning things over in my mind, going over the next day in meticulous detail."
The idea that Eddie might be sleeping poorly, not just from jet lag but because he can't stop thinking about work does break Steve's heart just a little bit.
“I mean, which of us has done it with a romantic partner?” Reggie asks. “Me, Baby…Just us two fags? Okay.”
"How long did you two do it?" Nancy asks. "I'm assuming you had a high protocol relationship before you went into 24/7 service."
"Yeah," Baby says. "We were already doing a lot of service for each other. I was doing a lot of boot worship and polishing his gear, and then he was doing things for me in return."
"Also he'd been begging me to do 24/7 for a while, but I was sick on and off and I didn't want to start it until I could give myself to it completely," Reggie says.
"Set the scene for us, Reggie," Eddie says. "It was a warm summer's day in 199-whatever—"
“Yeah, s'right," Reggie laughs. "Well, in the 90’s I did a lot of drug trials of HIV/AIDS because I was positive, right? And they all fucked with me in a lotta different ways. I lost my hair from one of them, I lost my memory from another one of 'em, one stole my appetite for a bit. I wasn't wasting, but I was like, lanky like a teenager and most of them just made me sick as a dog. And we finally get to 1995/1996, when the HAART cocktail came out, I didn't wanna fuckin' do it."
"Right, because every other time you'd done it, it sucked," Chrissy says.
"Yeah, and no offense to Baby or anyone else, but if you hadn't gone through an experimental fuckin' drug trial to address your terminal illness, which killed a lot of your friends, when the drug may or may not work, I didn't wanna hear it."
"This was in the early days, too," Baby says. "So I couldn't be like, look, it works, please just try it."
"So, I refused," Reggie says. "Except we had this perfect morning together and then we were suddenly in the parking lot of a hospital and Baby just looked me and said please."
"I know how this story ends and my heart is like," Robin taps her palm quickly across her chest, the sound muffled by one of her favourite cardigans, if Steve had to guess.
"Oh, I know," Baby says. "My palms get sweaty every time I think about it."
"And so I said. Alright. I’ll do it. But from this moment on, we do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want because I said so, is that clear?"
"Baby, what did you say?" Eddie asks.
"Yes, Daddy," Baby says, sweetly into the microphone.
"I said… what did I say again?"
"He said if I want you to walk around in public in full fetish gear, you'll do it," Baby says, answering him. "If I want you to shine my boots with your tongue, you'll do it, if I want you to cut the grass with a pair of scissors, you'll do it and you'll do it because it makes me happy.
"Yeah! And then I said some shit like, I dunno, from this day forward, your body, your heart, your mind, all of it is mine."
"The way you say 'some shit like' and then recite one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard," Eddie says, laughing. "What did you say, Baby?"
"I said, Yes Daddy."
"Hell yeah," Eddie says. Steve can hear the grin in his voice. "I love that."
"Were you trying to call his bluff, Reggie? Did you think he'd say no?" Nancy asks.
"Nah, he wouldn't ever be bluffing. He's Baby. I think I wanted him committed completely because it was a big ask for me to do this trial again with no guarantee it would work."
"I think Reggie wanted control, too," Baby says. "It's so hard to describe living through that time unless you've lived through it, but I think he was straining to maintain any kind of control over his life. And so, our partnership became an extension of that."
"What was your day-to-day like, Baby?" Chrissy asks.
"So, a lot of prep would happen the night before. Reggie would pick what we were going to eat and what I would wear the next day. I would wake up, change into that and then make coffee and breakfast. He would write out the list of things I had to do that day, or scenes we would do that day. It was always really hot to watch him write out the list. Then I would do everything on that list."
"And then we'd go to bed and do it all again," Reggie says, with a laugh.
"My role as a sub really became anticipating everything," Baby says. "It wasn't just having dinner made and ready when he came home from work. It was me knowing what he wanted for dinner without him having to ask me, right? It wasn't just all of his gear and leather was polished and perfect, it was me choosing what he wanted before he asked. It wasn't just writing up the schedule for any workshops he was giving, it was making sure that there was a chair sturdy enough to hold his weight while he talked."
"God," Eddie says, quietly. "What was that like for you?"
"Pretty good," Reggie says, with a laugh. "I think he wanted to show me how easy it could be to live the life I had. Then, once I started taking the cocktail and I started feeling better, then it was a little bit like magic."
"And so many people would say like, oh my god, you're like his cook and his cleaner and his maid, like that's so stereotypical for Filipinos and it's like, shut the fuck up," Baby says. Steve can tell he's pissed by the way his tone has that biting inflection that hits his teeth.
"I could do anything around the house, and it didn't matter what it was, he would notice it. Every day, either after he came home from work or at the end of the day he would walk through the house and notice every single thing I did."
"Was there anything that you changed partway through your dynamic?" Nancy asks.
"The only thing that really changed was the way we had sex, which sounds like it was a big thing," Reggie says. "But before we were doing a lot of the service stuff while were fucking, and it got to a point where I was like, can we just like, fuck? Can you break the rules a little bit? I wanna switch off for a second."
"Immediately after Reggie spoke those words, a historic storm rolled across the sky. Rain lashed the windows with water. Thunder tumbled through the clouds. Lightning struck the ground," Eddie says, putting on his story-telling voice. "And Baby, the power bottom and brat to end all brats assumed his position on the brat throne."
"Well, he told me to, so," Baby pauses. "It's his fault, really," he giggles.
"I did ask for it," Reggie says. "Well, Baby would probably say I begged for it."
"Am I wrong?" Baby asks. Steve can hear the tease in his voice.
"Nah."
"Did you ever push the boundaries of what you were comfortable doing together, Reggie?" Robin asks.
"You mean give him a command Baby explicitly wouldn't like?" Eddie asks. "Like, I dunno, ignoring you when you walk in a room or something similar?"
"Yeah."
"Mm. I would, but I wouldn't do it to prove his loyalty to me. I would do it if I wanted him to do it. The only reason we were ever in that partnership in the first place is because I knew he was loyal to me."
"And I felt that, too," Baby says. "I never felt like he was testing me or that he was asking me to check that I was doing what I was asked, because he trusted me to do as I was told."
"I feel like people love to make these types of things complicated," Reggie says. "And they can be. They can be as intricate as you want them to be. Or they can be simple."
"Yeah," Baby says. "If he asks me to do something and we're in that dynamic, there's no need for me to ask why he wants me to do it. I just do it."
"What if," Robin chimes in. "Sorry I'm here with like, the world's most annoying hypothetical. But what if there's something on the grocery list and he cannot find it, like, he's been to six grocery stores and it's not there?" she asks. "Or is this just my anxiety like, making everything bigger than it needs to be?"
"Then I call him and tell him what's happened," Baby says. "And he'll tell me what to do."
"Right," Eddie says. "His word is like your compass, so as long as you're following him, you're fine."
"I'm sure you didn't struggle with this, Baby, but I do think a lot of submissives struggle with critiquing their dom, especially in a long form dynamic. So, how did you navigate giving Reggie feedback, when there's such a big power dynamic between you?"
"We built it in. So, usually, at the end of the day, I would be taking off his boots and he'd ask me like, Any thoughts about today? And then if I had any critiques I would give them then. But usually by that time, whatever I had on my mind is gone and it's not important anymore.
"I think it's more important for us, as submissives, to understand is that we have to ask first. We can't assume we know why something's being done. In our case, we were always late to things, because he'd take the longest route to drive there. So, eventually, I asked him why he always picked the longest drive to get there and he said it was because he loved me being his little passenger princess and he wanted to spend more time with me, just the two of us, which, like—"
"Is one of the most romantic things I've ever heard," Chrissy says, nodding so deliberately that Steve can hear her earrings again.
"Exactly," Baby says.
"That and I fuckin' hate freeways and highways and shit," Reggie says. "Fuck traffic. People can't drive. At least if I take the back roads I avoid some of that bullshit," he laughs.
"And we also had like, y'know, if someone said something racist or if someone else made me uncomfortable or did something inappropriate, I was allowed to break protocol to tell him about it."
"Right," Chrissy says. "Because there's a power imbalance between you."
"So, it's not really the same at all," Eddie says, clearly thinking aloud. "But it's the idea that you have to make exceptions, even in a 24/7 dynamic. The same way a good dom would make exceptions regarding the length of poses or positions if the sub had a physical disability or something."
"Yeah," Reggie agrees. "I said somethin' like, he's more important than the protocol, so."
"Is that something you still do to this day, or do you only do it sometimes, on special occasions?" Robin asks.
"It stopped, yeah," Reggie says. "I had an injury. I fucked up my knee about 5 years into it. And I came home from the hospital and Baby brought me my drugs and I forgot to say thank you to him. Now, most people would write that off, right. Like, I'm on big boy sedatives or whatever, it's okay to forget. But it wasn't okay to me that I forgot to say thank you to him. So, I called it and said we would pick it up later.
"Except then my knee healed and I got back to work and I had so much shit going on. Then I realised I just didn't have the same level of energy that I could devote to it as before."
Steve wonders if Reggie's like Eddie, if a 24/7 just is effortful for him, or if there's something else, some other layer to his life that makes a 24/7 dynamic difficult.
"Is it something you miss, Baby, or is it a beloved chapter in your lives that is now closed?" Robin asks.
"I don't know if I would say that I miss it," Baby says. "He didn't want to do it, so then I didn't want to do it. It was a very special time, and now it's been so many years it's easy to feel nostalgic about it. But I don't know that I feel like our relationship is any lesser because we stopped doing a 24/7 dynamic."
"But, Reggie," Eddie starts. "Do you feel like Baby could drop back into it at any moment, if you asked?"
"Yeah," Reggie laughs and it sounds like he's nodding. "If I asked, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But we do a lot of service for each other because we have that muscle memory. So, to us, this is pretty casual, but to other people this might look like a whole commitment."
"I think I do that," Eddie says. "I think that's why it's so difficult for me to relax into any kind of 24/7 dynamic? Because I'm always measuring it up to other people's dynamics."
"Comparison can be the death of joy," Robin says. "Don't let it kill you."
"I think people feel like they have to apply the same strictness to their dynamic if it's a dom/sub dynamic." Chrissy says. "But remember we're all queer and labels can shift and change and suit us or not. The only people that need to define your dynamic are the people in it."
"And if all else fails, just do as Daddy or Mommy says and everything will be fine," Nancy says.
"Amen!" Baby says, emphatically.
“Oh, I liked this follow-up question,” Chrissy says. “A listener says, ‘In a previous episode you mentioned dom drop. I really don’t see many people talking about that in the community as much as sub drop. If you have any doms on the podcast, could you ask them what it’s like for them and give some tips on how to help someone come out of it?’”
“I answered this one last time, I think,” Eddie says. “So I’ll be brief but I need platonic touch and some low-stakes activity that occupies me for a bit. Showering and eating is a good idea for me, usually. And music I like helps, too. Anything based in friendship is good.”
“I won’t go too deeply into mine,” Nancy says, lingering before she speaks again. “Because they’re pretty private. But I like to spend time with my cat and I also spend a lot of time with my wife who isn’t in the scene.”
“Sub interjecting here,” Chrissy says. “But yeah I love spending time with Robin if I’ve been in sub drop just because it helps me step out of the bubble that those dynamics create and helps to remind me that, like, there’s a whole big, beautiful world outside of my bubble.”
“Do you want to talk about yours? Or do you want me to talk about it?” Baby asks. Steve gets the feeling that he’s looking at Reggie.
"Nah. I can talk about it. I feel like I’m kinda a special case, so I don’t know how helpful it would be…?”
"Your experiences are just as valuable as anyone else's," Nancy says. "They don't have to be universal to matter."
“Well, I’ll be in a scene and usually I’m like, I dunno, whipping someone," Reggie starts. "And then I’m like, oh, shit, I gotta tell Raul about this whip, he’d love to use it. And then I remember that Raul’s been dead for 30 years or more.”
“Oh my god,” Chrissy says, softly. “I’m so sorry, Reggie.”
"Yeah," Reggie says, with a roughened edge to his laugh. "I miss him a lot."
"I'm sorry, Reggie. What happens once you've dropped?" Eddie asks.
"I don't really remember much. I used to just leave. Wherever I was, I would just walk out."
“And then how do you get out of dom drop, once you’re in it?” Nancy asks.
“Oh, I need Baby,” he says, like it’s a given. “If that happens, I usually feel like all my friends and old lovers are dead and everyone's left me and I’m gonna die alone and I don’t know why I had to be the one to make it — shit like that."
"Then I sit in his lap," Baby says, warmly. "I tell that I'm here, that I've never left him and I never will. I tell him I love him. And usually if he starts talking about someone in particular, we'll talk about that person and our lives and all of our time together until he feels a little bit better."
"And I cry a lot," Reggie laughs, but from the emotion in his voice Steve can imagine that Baby is squeezing his hand, matching wedding bands one on top of the other.
"Sometimes you just need your person," Eddie says. "Nothing else for it."
“So, Reggie, you said you just walk out. Do you know where you're going, like, are you aware of your body, your surroundings?" Robin asks.
"Oh, I leave. I'm just walking. No direction, nothing, I'm just gone. It's part of the reason why he sits on my lap," Reggie says. "So he can keep me in one spot."
"That's so scary. How do you navigate that?" Chrissy asks.
"So, it's taken a long time to address it," Baby says. "But it's gotten to the point now where the minute he feels it, he has to either go sit in his car or in his bedroom or somewhere safe and blast his music and wait for me to come find him."
"We have friends, too, who know what it looks like when it happens, so usually they'll keep an eye on me until Baby gets there," Reggie says.
"Totally unimportant question," Eddie says. "But it's important for me, personally. What music do you listen to?"
"Springsteen, Van Halen or, Prince. But sometimes if I'm not careful, I come across someone's favourite song and then I'm fucked. Baby's made me a playlist, so if I have access to it, that's what I play."
"I update it every once and a while,"
"Oh man," Eddie says, clearly touched. "That's love right there."
"Can I armchair diagnose you very unofficially, Reggie?” Robin asks.
“Go ahead,” Reggie says.
“That feels like PTSD to me," Robin says. "Or at least some kind of trauma response."
“No shit?”
"Yeah," Robin says. "Let me ask you this — when you drop, you mention you're not aware of your surroundings." Steve can tell she's being careful by the way her tone tiptoes around some of her words. "But do you feel like you're there, in the memory? Are you feeling sensations, hearing things, like you're reliving it?"
"Yeah, like I'll hear someone's laugh or smell someone's shampoo or something or, the brand of cigarettes they smoked."
"Yeah, that feels like it's more than dom drop to me. I'm not saying that dom drop isn't awful, but I feel like yours has layers of other things woven into it."
"Thank you for saying that," Baby says, emphatically. "I have been telling him that for years and he's always brushed me off, or insisted that he's a lot better now."
"Have you?" Reggie asks, genuinely asking. "Have I?"
"Yes," Baby says. Steve can hear him place a kiss on the back of Reggie's hand. "You silly old bear."
"That feels common, though," Nancy says. "A lot of us minimise our trauma because otherwise it feels like it would've been impossible to survive it."
"I think this conversation is important," Eddie says, his earrings tinkling in his hair.
"Because this just demonstrates how the things we carry with us bleed over into other parts of our lives, y'know? Kink is about fantasy and play, but we're still carrying parts of ourselves into that play."
"Are we up to the thank you Steve segment?" Nancy asks. "Because I have a proposition."
"Go for it," Chrissy says.
"I think we need to have a thank you Baby segment, and then a thank you Steve segment."
"Oh my god," Baby laughs. "It's okay, you don't have to let the white guilt win this time, it's okay."
"Nah," Reggie says. "Let 'em say thank you to you."
"I'll start," Eddie says, before Baby gets a chance to interrupt again. "Baby, thank you for sending out reminders about munches and other events because even though it's always in my calendar I would be so late if it weren't for your texts, so thank you."
"You're welcome," Baby laughs.
"Thank you, Baby, for all the unseen work you've done for decades, emotional labour or otherwise," Nancy says. "You are such a thoughtful person so I feel like it comes naturally to you, but that doesn't mean it isn't without effort, even if that effort is never recognised. So, thank you."
"Wow," Baby says, quietly. "You're speaking right to my soul here."
"Thank you, Baby, for your beautiful recipe suggestions, especially that time I sent you a photo of my fridge and you came up with the most beautiful lunch I've ever had," Robin says.
"Oh that was so fun!" Baby says. "You're so welcome."
"Baby, thank you for encouraging me to be a freak," Chrissy says. "Because my novice nun costume is now in progress. I was worried I would be too offensive, but thanks for reminding me to be a freak where it counts."
"Oh my god," Baby says. "My little Catholic boy heart is going to be so traumatised. I can't wait." He laughs again. "Nancy, are you going to be a mother superior?"
"I'm going to be a priest," Nancy says.
"Forgive me father for I have sinned!" Eddie declares, passionately.
"Is it my turn?" Reggie asks. "I'm not good with words but uh," he pauses. "I mean I literally wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him, first of all."
"Baby, being your husband has been the greatest honour of my life. I don't believe in guardian angels or anything, but you come pretty damn close, so."
"I'm gonna cry," Baby says, quickly. "Like, I'm—oh my god. You're so sweet. I love you."
Inspired by the podcast, Steve sends a text thanking Baby for teaching him how to be the best house husband. Lucy, knowing it's already well past his bedtime, mews impatiently until Steve gets into bed with him. He won't fall asleep though.
"And now before Baby breaks into sobs, we will move onto the thank you Steve segment of this podcast, where I say thank you to my best friend Steve," Robin says. Steve loves this part — not just because it's a thank you to him, but because it's Robin picking out all these details of their relationship that he just thinks of as their friendship.
"Thank you, Steve, for coming to the emergency vet with me and Chrissy and Everything Bagel when I panicked and thought he'd eaten a whole pack of hair ties," she says. "Turns out the hair ties are under the dresser and he just opened the packaging. And he was just really constipated, so."
Steve makes a note in his phone to call Robin tomorrow and tell her he loves her.
"No, oh my god," Eddie laughs. "World's most expensive shit."
"Literally," Chrissy says. "Thank you Steve! He drove all of us to the emergency vet we truly could not be more thankful."
"Actually," Nancy says. "I want to say thank you to Steve because he is always finding great charities and mutual aid funds for people to support and I wouldn't know about them if it wasn't for Steve. So, thank you Steve."
"I was trying to make guacamole," Baby says. "And every store I went to their avocados were rock hard and I texted Steve to tell him I was giving up. He went to three separate stores to get me my avocados. Thank you Steve."
"Yeah, any man who helps out my husband is precious in my book," Reggie says. "Thank you, Steve."
"Oh my god," Eddie says. "My turn, uh. God. We could do a whole other episode on the things I'd like to thank Steve for."
"Should we do that?" Chrissy asks. "A thank you Steve special?"
"What do you think?" Steve asks, scratching Lucy under his chin. "Would you want a thank you Steve special?"
Lucy starts purring loudly and snuggles closer to Steve. Steve decides he'll take that as a yes.
"Mostly, I would thank Steve for… reminding me that I'm a human being and my self-worth is not completely dependent on being a professional dom."
"Okay, wait," Robin says, interjecting a little. "Because I have a lot of thoughts about this actually—"
"Don't let me fall asleep," Steve mumbles to Lucy, who is already falling asleep himself. "We gotta stay up so we can say good morning to Eddie."
stevie baby, is that my desk????? it looks so good what the hell it's so organised
You are so good to me i am going to suck your dick so hard when i get home
did literally any of the photos i send you go through or do i need the strongest wifi in the entire world to beam them into your phone
LET MY LOVERBOY ANGELKITTEN MEADOWSWEET HONEYBEAR SEE MY STUPID PHOTOS!!!!
wait maybe i should make my client pay for any roaming charges on my phone bill
or is that mean????? idk
Anyway. hi darling i miss you
oh the journal! LMAO
that’s my client journal for you that I started before we had our first session together. Read away and watch me fall hopelessly
fervently
madly
utterly
ardently
in love with you