Waiting for Derek (Different Hearts, #7)

by Izaia Winter

When Mr. Hayes had entered my studio, my heart had nearly wept with the need to photograph him. Portraits were my first love, and his face looked like it had been made to be loved by a camera. His face was boyish and young, but it was his eyes that captivated me. They were a startling shade of blue-green, and the look in them was at complete odds with the wide smile that graced his face. His smile said, ‘don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,’ while his eyes said, ‘I will eat you alive if you so much as touch me.’

Foster pulled out his phone and started manically typing. “Wait, do you prefer text or email as your point of contact?” Standing there staring at the man, I had a feeling Foster had issues with boundaries. Like the differences between personal and professional relationships didn’t matter once he’d decided you’d crossed some invisible line. It seemed asking for information regarding BDSM had tipped the scales and pushed me firmly into friendly territory.

I wasn’t interested in BDSM personally, but I was dying to see what Foster had sent to my phone. There was just something about the forbidden and subversive that was deeply fascinating to me. I was honestly surprised I hadn’t thought of diving deeper into BDSM culture before.

I looked over The Church’s relatively simple website. Done in black and white, the main page had a stylized cross, the club’s name, and a simple tagline that—while dramatic and a little over the top—fit the theme well. Where we pray to our demons to sate the need. And it intrigued me too. No matter the wording, it sounded like… worship.

After my third time scrolling through all the pictures, I finally figured out what was bothering me so much. There were no people. Sure, there were pictures of dancing crowds and bartenders slinging drinks, but the themed rooms were empty and cold without people to give them life. From the little I had gleaned from Foster, BDSM was more about the people than the toys. Ideas began racing through my mind.

A seminude body draped over the strange wooden bench in the dungeon. The bottom half of a man as he stood in front of the whiteboard while a woman in a short, plaid skirt sat at her desk, her feet held taut on her bare toes as she rocked her hips forward as if begging for her teacher’s touch. Two male bodies in a Roman bath, one holding the other trapped against the edge while the water obscured what was happening below. I felt the website needed erotic pictures that would draw the eye to the figures first and then to the space second, highlighting the endless possibilities a couple would find inside.

“He works there,” I whispered, hunching over my phone as if physically getting closer would clear up the image. If working at the club meant I got to see him regularly, I’d go in every day they were open until he agreed to let me take his portrait.

He hired a photographer.” “That’s it?” I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Foster has been talking about hiring a photographer for Elias for weeks now. I’m not surprised he actually did it. Once he sets his mind on something, it’s only a matter of time before he accomplishes it.” “No. Well, yes, but also no.” I stared at Grant. “Thank you, that makes so much more sense, and I understand everything now.”

“Foster hired him for the club as well.” “To do what?” It didn’t make any sense to me. Once the photographer finished the photos for the website, there would be no more need for him to stick around. “To be a photographer?” Grant said slowly as if I were stupid for not understanding sooner.

I could already feel my protective instincts rising. “I’m assuming this guy is vanilla. Foster and Carson will have to sit down with him and have a serious conversation about limits and boundaries. People will try to pull him into their scenes if he’s not careful.”

“When does he start?” I needed something to keep my mind off Kane’s absence, and a vanilla photographer about to be thrown into the deep end sounded like an excellent place to start.

“Kane is a sniper,” I said, only loud enough to be heard over the music still playing. “Trevor is his spotter: his partner. Wherever Kane goes, Trevor is there too. If Trevor is calling, that means things went sideways. There are only a few reasons Trevor would ever call me. Kane is either injured, missing, captured, or… or dead.”

Kane turned his head toward me, cracked his eyes open, and studied my face. “You look like shit that’s been run over and set on fire.” I laughed and gripped the arms of my chair, unable to reach for him. “So do you.” “I got shot. What’s your excuse?” “You got shot.” “Yeah, that would do it.” Kane nodded.

As we’d done since we’d been teenagers, all disagreements between the two of us were settled with a gentleman’s game of chess.

Kane grinned. “I kind of wish we could have seen him the first time he walked into the club. I love playing the are-they-really-vanilla-or-are-they-just-innocent game.”

“He’s booked solid for the night. People were a little wary of him on his first day, but they were sold once everyone started showing off their pictures. He’s very polite and professional, so don’t fuck this up for me.”

“What about the photographer? Foster said he was cute, right?” “No idea,” Kyle replied as he started the movie. “All anyone at the club can do is talk about his pictures. And Foster won’t like it if we fuck his photographer and then break his heart.” “We wouldn’t do that,” I said, ignoring Kyle as he snorted his disagreement. “Besides, it would be our luck that he is Foster’s kind of cute and not ours.” “There’s a difference?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably.” Fuck, he was our type of cute.

I stepped into the lobby to find Marcus alone. “Foster said the photographer was here?” “I am.” Twisting toward the door, I silently cursed when my eyes landed on the man in question. He wasn’t short, but he was the perfect height that if I was to wrap my arms around him, I could rest my chin on top of his head. He had short, sandy hair that would edge toward blonde if he only spent more time in the sun. His eyes were hazel that tended more toward green than brown, and his lips were full and inviting: utterly kissable.

Just because I wouldn’t personally do something doesn’t mean I can’t take pictures of it.” I paused. “Unless it’s needles.” I shivered as a wave of goosebumps traveled up my arms. “Can’t do it. I saw some pictures online and had a very big nope moment.

Twins. My eyes couldn’t tell where to look. Twins. There were two of them. My inner nympho released a heavy, love-struck moan of imagined pleasure. Not that anything would ever happen. That kind of thing only happened in the movies and not the kind they played on regular television channels. Twins.

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret that’s not really a secret before you hear it from someone else: Kyle and I do everything together. And when I say everything, I do mean everything.” Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, I ordered myself as my mind began weaving intricate fantasies that prominently featured three bodies and a gigantic bed.

I smirked. “You don’t get jealous because you get off on it.” Kane didn’t make any attempt to deny it. “It works for us.”

“Kyle wants to know if you’re hungry and if you like subs? The sandwich kind, not the human kind.”

Derek stilled with a potato chip halfway to his open mouth. His eyes couldn’t decide where they wanted to look. There was Kane’s head resting on top of mine, my hand soothing his leg, and Kane’s hand splayed across my chest. Our relationship wasn’t sexual in nature, just incredibly interdependent, but we didn’t mind playing it up a bit.

“Being a pet can also be a way for subs to demand physical attention,” Kane said, resuming our explanation. “Dating these days is all about playing it cool. You’re needy if you want physical affection, and some subs already have difficulty expressing their desire for something. Thinking a hug or some cuddles is a burden on their partner makes it so that they don’t ask for it when they need it. A pet doesn’t have to ask; they’ll just crawl into your lap and demand what they want.”

“I was thinking about a kitten,” I replied. “A kitten?” I nodded slowly. “Something soft and warm and cuddly. Very cuddly. And affectionate.” Derek’s body swayed as he kept his head turned away from us. “Yes,” I continued, reading Derek’s body language. “I think a kitten would do nicely.” “Are you sure?” Kane whispered so Derek couldn’t hear. “Yes,” I replied just as quietly. “Just look at him, Kane.” “Alright,” Kane said as he straightened up. “You’ve talked me into it. Now I want a kitty.”

“And where are you going to find this kitty?” I asked as if there wasn’t one sitting on the floor before us. “I don’t know.” Kane slumped over me and used my shoulders to keep himself upright. “Do you know any?” “Sorry, attractive and available kitties of the male persuasion who prefer other men aren’t exactly a dime a dozen around here. Patience, dear brother. We’ll find our kitty eventually,” I said, planting the seed in Derek’s mind.

“While some parts of BDSM are more accepted by the mainstream, there’s a lot that isn’t. And for many reasons, it’s more acceptable to be dominant than to be submissive, but only if you’re a man. For a submissive woman, it’s turning your back on centuries of the fight for women’s rights for the desire to be subjugated by a man. And if you’re a dominant woman, you’re just angry and taking it out on men. “For a man to be submissive, it’s seen as emasculating. A lot of people think a man’s worth is directly tied to his control and confidence. To be willing to give that up is… incomprehensible.

“Oh, stop it,” Derek said as he lightly swatted Kyle’s arm. “Foster did not off them.” “But I guess we’ll just never know for sure,” I said, taking up the gauntlet Kyle had thrown down. “They say you can still hear their screams late at night when the club is empty. No, please. I’ll behave,” I said, pitching my voice up to give it a ghostly feel. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.” “That’s not a ghost,” Kyle said with a straight face. “That’s just Elias.”

“I’m going to kiss you now. If you don’t want me to, you should say something.” “Okay,” he breathed, and that was as far as I was willing to let him get. Ducking my head, I set my mouth to his. It was innocent at first. Just a brushing of my lips against his. I wanted to savor the moment forever.

Derek was hiding something. I couldn’t read him like I could Kane. I couldn’t look at his face and tell what he was feeling or anticipate his needs, but I knew when a sub was hiding something. It was all in how they looked at you. Or, more to the point, how they avoided looking at you.

Instead of relaxing, Derek’s body movements were stiff, showing nothing of the ease he usually employed as he navigated the world. His hands weren’t as confident as they usually were when handling his equipment. He was acting like a complete amateur. But it was in the way his eyes would dart toward me and then away that was the most telling. It was the look of a submissive saying, ‘I have something I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it. Help me make it easier.’

“Just like a little kitten. And like a real kitten, you can’t rush them into liking you. That will only scare him away. You have to wait for them to come to you. And as soon as he realizes he’s safe with us and that we want nothing more than to care for him, he’ll be ours for the taking.” Kane fell back on the bed with a satisfied sigh. “It’s going to be glorious. I didn’t realize how much I would like it until he was here. I mean, I knew I would like it, but wow.” He reached up and rubbed his hand against his chest, telling me exactly how he felt without saying a single word.

“Who’s a pretty kitty?” Kane asked as he scratched along my jaw. “You are.” I preened for him. I was a pretty kitty. My Masters told me so.

With my eyes still closed in pleasure as Master continued to have his way with me, I felt balanced for the first time in my life. I knew with absolute certainty that I was right where I was supposed to be. Every decision I had ever made had led me to this apartment, to these two men, and to this life. And when Master groaned and pushed as deep as he could reach to leave his cum inside of me, I felt complete.

“I lied,” I said, gripping his shirt to stop him from leaving, knowing I had to tell him before he left. “In the elevator. I said I was only half in love with you, but I lied. I love you. I love you both so much. Don’t let anything happen to you. I won’t forgive you.”

“You thought we were going to break up with you?” I asked as I chased after them. “I don’t know….” Derek’s blush was all the answer I needed. I grabbed his hand and held it while Kane kept his arm around Derek’s body. I scoffed. “As if we would ever let the best thing to ever happen to us go.” “Exactly,” Kane replied.

“You guys aren’t art people, huh?” he said, a smile twitching at his lips as he leaned into the image. “Nope,” I replied. “Not a bit,” Kane said at the same time. Laughing,

“Is the earring cute?” I asked again. I had to know. It was very important. Kyle smirked as if he knew I was already halfway to agreeing. “It’s very cute.”

“Happy, kitten?” Kyle asked as he appeared next to me and took my hand in his. “It’s my first, real opening,” I said, blinking as my eyes began to water. “I worked so hard for this. I almost can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” Foster looked around the gallery and stopped when his eyes landed on the three of us standing together. “But since when?” Kane shrugged as we joined the group. “Since Derek’s third day. Kyle and I weren’t going to let some other Dom snatch him up before we could.” “What?” Foster looked off into the distance as he did some quick, mental math. “That was seven months ago!”

“I don’t believe it,” Foster said in a daze as he grabbed Elias’s arm and wandered away. “Am I losing my touch? You’d tell me if I was losing my touch, right? Elias?”

Looking around the gallery at all the people who had come out to support me, I felt like my life was finally where I wanted it to be. I had my art, my grandma, and Kane and Kyle. Life was good.