“Mine,” Colby said, leaning against the wall and looking way too entertained by Keats’s reaction. “He thinks you’re my submissive. That’s why he was pissed when he saw how hurt you were. He thought he was coming over to tend a few battle scars after a fun night. That’s usually what he’s called in for.”
Keats’s lips parted, the information almost too much to process. “Usually? You injure people often?”
“No. I hurt people often, but with their permission, and I know what I’m doing. I’ve never had to call in Theo for one of my own. But I work at a kink resort on the weekends as a trainer, and Theo’s the go-to guy if something goes wrong. Accidents can happen.”
“So he’s like—fine with all of that?”
Colby shrugged. “He’s part of all of that. Very popular with the female dommes at The Ranch. Excellently trained submissive.”
Keats scooted up the headboard and raked a hand through his knotted hair while trying to picture the smug doctor kneeling at some woman’s feet. “I don’t get it. The guy seems like a bossy asshole. I wouldn’t think he’d be the type—”
“There is no type,” Colby said simply. “The man’s a world-class trauma surgeon. Successful, well respected, in charge in his day-to-day world. But behind closed doors, he likes something different. What people are on the outside doesn’t always match the desires hiding beneath the surface.”
Keats considered that. “I guess I just had an image of what a submissive guy would be like, and I was expecting some wimpy dude who wanted someone to take care of him.”
Colby rubbed a hand along his jaw, observing him in that way that made Keats want to squirm. “Submission takes more bravery than anything else—especially for a guy because of all the stereotypes out there. Putting complete trust in someone else, someone who happens to enjoy using implements of torture on you? Cowards wouldn’t go near a dom. And yes, a dominant takes care of his or her submissive, but that goes both ways. Some of the worst fights I’ve seen in my years in the kink world are submissives going into protective mode when someone tries to mess with their dominant.”
“I guess it’s just hard for me to understand it.”
“Is it?” Colby asked with a little head tilt. “Last night in the kitchen, you said you were fine suffering the torture of listening if it turned Georgia on. You said there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do to please a beautiful woman.”
Keats blinked. “All I meant—”
Colby held up a hand, halting him. “So if Georgia wanted to tie your hands behind your back, put you on your knees, and demand that you make her come, that would turn you off?”
Keats groaned at the image, a twinge of heat sparking low. “Well, fuck, of course it wouldn’t. But what guy wouldn’t be turned on by that?”
“I wouldn’t,” Colby said matter-of-factly. “I had to do submissive training in order to be a trainer at The Ranch. I was terrible at it. Couldn’t get hard when I wasn’t in control.”
Keats stiffened, embarrassment and anger mixing into one. “So what? You’re saying something’s wrong with me?”
“I tell you I couldn’t get it up for something, and you think I’m saying something’s wrong with you?” Humor sparked in Colby’s eyes and a hint of a smile appeared. “Of course not. People who like to be tied up and forced to do things are some of my favorite people.”
Keats’s stomach dipped, and he hated that his body responded even when he knew Colby was purposely goading him.
“I’m only trying to help you understand that there’s nothing wrong with being one or the other, or both or neither. You asked me earlier about my lifestyle. Since you’re going to be staying with me a while and probably meeting some of my friends, I’m simply answering some questions.”
“And you think I’m submissive,” he said flatly.
Colby crossed his arms, impassive. “I don’t make assumptions about anyone, especially someone who’s never tried kink before. Nobody really knows until they experiment and find out what does it for them. There aren’t always neat boxes. I know masochists who are dominants. Submissives who hate pain. People who switch roles depending on who they’re with. It’s complex. So no, I haven’t slapped some label on you, Keats.”
“So the people you train at that resort, they already know what they are?”
“No. Some of them are still figuring it out. I help them with that if they need it.”
Keats focused on folding the edge of the blanket into small
zigzag folds. “So that’s what got you this house, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t a neighborhood for a teacher’s salary.”
“Counselor.”
“Whatever. Bet it pays a lot less than fucking people for cash.”
Colby’s jaw clenched. “I’m not having sex for money. I’m a trainer. I don’t fuck students.”