Although, in fairness, Greg’s trust in Max had a lot to do with his success. Something Max himself was admittedly lacking in. But clearly his mentor believed in him regardless. Knew that Max was doing this for more than just himself. Knew he had Greg’s best interests at the forefront, too. That his needs complimented Max’s to a tee.
And man, did Max have the most incredible time working Greg over on that cross. Warming things up with some toying and teasing, then riding his every nerve ending without mercy. Because that’s what Greg liked. Having it handed to him hard and fast. Relentless in both pleasure and pain. With no real breathers, no real breaks. Greg loved the high of being overwhelmed. And Max knew this because, as part of his preparation, he’d made a point to feel Greg out. To get a bead on the specifics that made him tick. The shit that got him all hot and bothered. Which Max gleaned pretty easily from all the little things Greg had said while domming over Max in past scenes. Or the tactics he implemented time and again, or the tools he tended to use on Max the most. Kind of like a nice little peek into Greg’s psyche, making his list of sexual preferences easy to read.
Shit yeah, Greg hadn’t known what hit him.
In fact, he’d apparently been so impressed that he started referring clients Max’s way soon after. Those on his waiting list that he thought Max would mesh with. Emergency shift covers. Tag-team sessions. Even took Max to a couple prominent Dom parties. Suddenly, Max was part of a whole new social circle, servicing his very own list of regulars. And he loved every second, not lost to the fact that its heady high kept his temper at bay. He didn’t feel nearly as angry anymore, nor driven so strongly to get in fights. It was as if domming satisfied some deep, dark, intrinsic inner need. To control those around him, completely, mind and body. Because interestingly, when doing so, he finally felt a semblance of control in his own fucking life. Something he hadn’t felt in ages.
In that scene, in that moment, he held all the power. A feeling that was intoxicating as hell. As was the way Max’s relationship with his subs was so perfectly, so impossibly symbiotic. He pleasured them. He punished them. He broke them. He fixed them. In any and every way they required. Because he understood that they needed the exchange as much as he did, instilling a kind of like-minded comradery.
All he had to do was keep his personal emotions out of it. Just enjoy his new life with its sizzling hot perks, and keep his head set to platonic. After all, Max’s heart was his own hard limit. Had been that way for a while, and would stay that way.
A couple months later, Max finally accrued all the supplies he’d need for his very own portable dungeon. Aka his new summer job. Good riddance, Home Depot. Hello life as a freelance Dom. Way better hours to coincide with school, and the bennies were fucking fantastic.
FIVE
—ONE YEAR LATER—
“Fuuuuuuck.”
Max dumped his big cardboard box on the breakfast bar and exhaled a long, unhappy breath. He couldn’t believe he was back there. Back in Northern Virginia. To the one place he’d been vigilantly steering clear of. Minus a couple quick visits to see his mom, he’d been pretty damn successful, too.
God, he hated it there. Didn’t want to be back. But blood’s thicker than water, and his mom really needed him. No way he’d let her down. He’d always be there for her. God knew, she’d been the only one who’d stuck around for him. In truth, even with over a hundred miles between them, she still was really all that he had. His only family. His only everything.
The only person left that he loved.
Max dragged a hand through his dark auburn hair and looked around the apartment. As soon as his mom called, filling him in on her car accident, he’d immediately made plans to move back home. Not that she’d asked him to, but it was pretty much a given. A dumb fuck pizza delivery guy had run a red light and slammed the driver side of her sedan. Practically the whole left side of her body was wrecked. Her hip. Her arm. Even her collarbone. All broken, with some needing physical therapy. Add a concussion and whiplash to the mix, and poor Mom was a bona fide mess. Fortunately, she’d been in the hospital during the time it’d taken Max to move back and get squared away. But today they were finally releasing her. Max would have to go pick her up soon. He’d take her home, get her settled, then begin seeing to her every single need. A couple of times a day for a couple of months straight.