Playing With Spencer by Izaia Winter

Chapter Five

Spencer

Glancing around the table, I couldn’t tell who was more surprised by my actions. Marshall was staring at me like I’d lost my goddamned mind. With how vocal I’d been about staying away from littles, I couldn’t blame him. The way I was looking at Turner didn’t leave much room for interpretation.

Ollie was bouncing his gaze between me and Turner, his excitement clearly brewing as he started getting ideas. Just yesterday, I’d listened to him patiently explaining to Marshall why he needed more friends. Unsurprisingly, toys had come up a lot. Red had already lost interest in us and had returned to painting his rock blue. A boy I’d never seen before was sitting next to Turner, gawking at me like I was a ghost from his nightmares that had come to haunt him.

As for myself, I was a roiling mess of contradictions. Inside my head, my conscience was screaming at me to walk away. I considered littles a hard limit for a reason. Having tasted the power of consensual non-consent, I knew I couldn’t live without it. Sooner or later, that need to completely dominate my partner and be in absolute control would rear up its head and make its presence known. Littles weren’t built for that kind of play. That had been made crystal clear to me. Even the idea of a scene with a Daddy forcing anything on a little left a bad taste in my mouth.

Besides, playing the stranger was my favorite way to satisfy that itch. At that moment, I wouldn’t be Daddy. I was the man sitting at the end of the bar who was watching for the right moment to strike. The mafia boss calling in a debt only to realize I wanted something more than money. The professor who wants something in return for a second chance. Staring down into Turner’s eyes, I could easily picture his cute face screwed up with a touch of fear as he searched for a way out while I charmed and coerced him into giving me what I wanted. I knew the best thing I could do for Turner was to walk away. Seeing him in his oversized t-shirt with green paint streaked under his innocent eyes, I knew what I wanted was too much.

But none of that mattered now because I couldn’t ignore the glimmer of hope in Turner’s eyes. The time to leave had been when I’d walked into the schoolroom and heard Turner’s voice above the music and the other littles. When I’d seen him with his paintbrush in hand and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he concentrated on his rock. Leaving now would only crush his spirit, and I wasn’t that much of an asshole.

“Annnnnnd I’m back!” Emmie said, breaking the staring contest Turner and I had fallen into as well as the silence that had settled over the group as they waited for a winner. Skipping around the table, he took a seat next to Ollie and immediately grabbed a bottle of pink paint. Not getting a response, Emmie finally glanced around the table and froze when his gaze landed on me looming over Turner. “What… what’s going on?”

Ollie leaned into Emmie’s side, his eyes never leaving us. “I don’t know, but I think something is happening. Spencer and Turner seem to know each other already.” Ollie wiggled his brows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

“I knew it!” After shaking his fists in excitement, Emmie propped an elbow on the table and balanced his chin on his palm. Lifting his free hand, Emmie motioned for us to continue. “Don’t mind me. As you were.”

I narrowed my eyes on the impertinent boy. “You knew what?”

“Simon,” Emmie said, pointing toward the boy sitting next to Turner and outing his identity as Turner’s best friend. “He was telling Daddy about how he was flirting with Elias and how Turner would have done it too if he wasn’t obsessed with this guy he’d met. He mentioned the name Spencer, and I just knew he had to be talking about you. It was too perfect not to be you. It had to be you,” he finished with a smile.

I looked down at Turner with a satisfied smirk. “You’ve been telling people about me?”

“Oh my god,” Turner said, his cheeks bright pink as he stared at Emmie in horror. “You’re just as bad as Simon. Do none of you have a filter? Are secrets not sacred anymore?”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, I tugged until he buried his face into my side. “Remind me to have a talk with your Daddy about your attitude,” I said to Emmie.

Against my side, I felt Turner’s swift intake of breath as the title spilled from my lips. Not looking down, I felt him shift against my side. I felt my palm itch with the urge to reach under the table and feel if the word had affected him in other ways. Remembering how he’d been so conflicted at the end of our last date, I could imagine how he’d thought I’d react to the idea of littles and Daddies.

BDSM was something that lingered at the edges of society and was slowly leaking into mainstream culture but only the more palatable stuff. Spanking and bondage and dirty talk were okay, but get into something a bit different, and acceptance fell away real fast. Age play was there at the top of the list. For that matter, CNC wasn’t that far behind. It was easy to forget what the outside world thought of your kinks when you surrounded yourself with people who understood. He’d had as much of a right to fear my reaction as I did fearing his. Not that it mattered. Turner was a little. A relationship between the two of us would never work, but I couldn’t let him think I was rejecting him. Once I explained things to him, I knew he would understand as well. Our kinks were too contradictory.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try to steal a kiss or two before I let him go. I was that much of an asshole.

“Daddy likes my attitude. He says I have spunk,” Emmie defended, bringing my attention back to him.

I smirked as the double-entendre sailed over Emmie’s head. “I’m sure you do, and on that note” —I plucked the paintbrush from Turner’s hand and dropped it in a nearby cup of water— “Turner and I need to have a talk. In private,” I added when Emmie leaned in closer.

Standing upright, I slipped my hand under Turner’s arm and helped him from his seat. I stifled a moan at how quickly he moved to obey. I wondered what other orders he would obey just as quickly. I swallowed a grimace at the thought. Turner wasn’t mine, and I needed to stop thinking about him as if he was.

“Wait,” he said, the word rushing out in a panic. Spinning around, Turner pushed his —I tilted my head as I stared at his creation— watermelon? toward Simon who was still gaping up at me like a fish out of water. “Watch my pickle.”

“What? No!” Snapping out of it, Simon grabbed Turner’s arm and pulled him down into a not-so-secret conversation. “Are you crazy? What are you doing? Are you sure about this?”

“What? You heard him. We’re just going to go talk,” Turner replied, showing off his naivety.

“Talk? Right. You’re just going to go off with him,” Simon accused as he threw a suspicious look my way. “You’re in a BDSM club, Turner. He might try something.”

Might. Might? Oh, I was going to try something.

“But it’s Spencer.” Turner had lowered his voice, but I’d heard him nonetheless.

“I know,” Simon replied quickly. “But just because he’s Mr. Hot Chocolate Cake doesn’t mean you should go off with him.”

Butting in, I braced an arm on the table and leaned over Turner. “Mr. Hot Chocolate Cake?” I asked into his ear. “Should I be flattered? Because I feel very flattered right now.”

Turner’s smile had a hint of embarrassment as he giggled and leaned back against me. “Very. Hot Chocolate. Chocolate Cake. Cake. What’s not great?”

“Absolutely nothing!” Ollie pipped up from the other side of the table.

Suddenly feeling like an exhibit at a zoo with everyone watching, I turned to placate Simon. “I’ll bring him back safe and sound. I promise,” I said with my most charming smile.

But Simon wasn’t one to go down so easily. “How do I know you’re not some creep? Turner is too trusting sometimes.”

“Hey!” Turner protested. “No I not!”

Simon lifted a brow as he crossed his arms. “David from the grocery store?”

“Never mind.” Turner suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Vowing to get the story of David the Creep from Turner later, I pointed to the people still watching us. “I’m not a creep. I promise. These are my friends, and they can vouch for me.”

Turning toward the rest of the table when Simon and Turner did, I sighed. Ollie was nodding vigorously with tiny hearts forming in his eyes. Marshall was smirking—a knowing, I-told-you-so expression all over his face. I knew if Nolan weren’t off somewhere with N, he’d be giving me the same look. Emmie was sighing dramatically with his face cupped in his hands like he was watching some made-for-TV movie coming to life in front of his eyes, and Red… Red was still ignoring us. Not exactly the vote of confidence I’d hoped for.

“Really, guys?” I shook my head in mock disappointment while Turner giggled next to me. “This is the part where you all talk about how amazing I am. That I’m a wonderful person. A real catch. Something! Anything?”

“What did I miss?” Carson asked as he joined our group. His hand brushed through Emmie’s hair as a satisfied glint appeared in his eyes when he noticed me standing with Turner.

“Betrayal,” I said, smiling inside when Simon’s giggles join Turner’s. “Utter and complete betrayal.”

“Oh really?” Carson pulled Emmie out of his chair, took his seat, and then pulled his boy onto his lap—his favorite place for his boy to be. “On whose side?”

I gestured toward all the gawkers at the table. “My so-called friends. Can you please tell Turner and Simon that I’m not a creep?”

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” Ollie said, his eyes dancing with glee as he watched the drama unfolding before him.

I snapped and pointed a finger at Ollie. “Thank you, and that’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Daddy says we shouldn’t have favorites among friends,” Red said, finally chiming in. “He says some people might feel left out.”

I didn’t have to guess that he was some people. Suddenly feeling like a dick, I quickly tried to set things right. “You’re also my favorite, Red. And you too, Emmie,” I added before he could ask. “But not you,” I said, glaring at Marshall where he stood laughing hysterically. “You can take a long walk off a short pier.”

Still glaring at Marshall, I felt a hand slip into mine.

“Spencer?”

I whipped my head toward Turner. “Yes?”

“I think I’d like to have that talk now.”

His smile was soft, and his hand felt sure in mine, but I still had to ask. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“The drawing room is free,” Carson said, not taking his eyes off Emmie as the boy wiggled in his lap.

“Thanks.” Still holding on to Turner’s hand, I led him from the room into the empty hallway. It would be hours until the party crowd arrived. “It’s this way.”

Stopping next to the wooden-panel door, I took the pen and marked out some time on the sign-up sheet to ensure our privacy. Wordlessly, Turner followed me into the drawing room. The room smelled of leather and smoke from the books that lined the walls and the men and women who used the space like a gentleman’s club from the 1800s. The smoke of their cigars lingered long after they were gone.

Letting go of my hand, Turner approached the nearest bookcase and trailed his fingers over the spines along the shelf. “Were you going to tell me?”

Taking a seat on the arm of a leather chair, I watched as he circled the room. “Tell you what?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“About this,” he replied, gesturing to the room. “About liking… you know.”

“About liking my partners to be submissive to me?” I asked, coming right out with it, smirking when a tiny shiver racked his body.

“Yes,” he said with a false sense of confidence. “That.”

“Eventually.” Shifting off the arm, I crossed my legs as I sat properly in the chair. “When the time was right.”

“And what constitutes the right time?”

“When the reward outweighed the risk. I don’t date outside the club,” I replied, expounding on my answer. “I haven’t for years. It’s so hard explaining what I like to vanilla people. It’s so much easier when everyone involved already knows the score, don’t you think?”

Nodding, he swallowed hard and turned away to hide. “If… if you only date people from the club, why… why did you ask me out? There was no way you could know that I—that I like—”

“Because I wanted you the moment I saw you.” My words were simple and to the point. There was no reason to hide it anymore. “And then you talked to me. You were so sweet and naturally submissive. I couldn’t help but wonder if you were in the lifestyle. A practicing submissive in the wild.”

Turner shuffled on his feet and bit his lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. I was…”

“Scared and nervous?” I answered for him.

“Yes,” he said, relieved I already understood. “I’ve never told someone I’m seeing that I’m… a little.”

Feeling itchy in my skin, I stood and approached Turner. Standing behind him, I placed a hand over his, stilling his nervous movements. I squashed the urge to tell Turner I’d be his Daddy and changed the subject, needing a bit more time with him before spilling my secrets and losing him forever. “Tell me about David.”

Groaning, Turner covered his face with his hand. “Do I have to? It’s so embarrassing.”

“I want to know. Tell me,” I said, infusing my voice with a hint of dominance. I wasn’t going to let him hide from me again. I’d almost screwed everything up once by letting him get away.

“Ugh. When I lived at my old house, there was this guy who worked at my grocery store. I thought he was just friendly when he’d talk to me. One day he asked if I wanted to join him for some afternoon delight. He was nice, and I thought afternoon delight was some kind of dessert. I said yes. As soon as he got me alone, he tried to kiss me. It was awful. I pushed him down and ran away. I never went back.”

“Seriously?” I asked, forcing down a smile at the disgust in his tone.

“Yes! I had to drive an extra twenty minutes to go to a different grocery store. And the bakery wasn’t as good. Their cookies were hard, and they put nuts in some of them. Who does that?”

I couldn’t help but grin at how little Turner sounded. That and he seemed more put out about not being able to go to his favorite grocery store and get his cookies than a strange man inviting him over for sex. “I’m sorry?”

“Thank you,” he said primly.

“Did you find my kiss gross?” I asked in a whisper as I stepped closer to him.

“No.” Turner leaned back and looked at me over his shoulder, need written all over his face. “It was a very nice kiss, and your cookies were amazing, by the way. I had to hide them from Simon.”

Smirking, I couldn’t tell which had endeared me to him more: my kisses or my cookies. It seemed Turner had a one-track mind, and cookies topped the list. Not that I minded. I was a baker. I could seduce him with cookies as easily as I could with words.

Fuck, I had to stop thinking Turner and I had a future together. It would only hurt more when he left. And he would leave as soon as I told him what I needed from a partner.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Lifting my hand, I brushed my fingers along his cheek, ignoring the desire I felt swirling in my blood. “Did you run from me because you’re a little?”

“I didn’t think you would understand,” he whispered back.

“I would have understood. Sometimes I think half my friends are littles. It comes with being friends with so many Daddies.”

Turning in my arms, Turner rested his cheek on my chest. “I like your friends.”

Tightening my arms around him, I knew the hardest part was approaching. “I think they like you too.”

“Spencer, are you—”

“Turner, I—”

We both stopped and laughed as we interrupted each other.

“You go first,” I said, taking the coward’s way out.

“Are you… are you a Daddy?” he asked, the words barely louder than a whisper.

I had no idea how to answer him. Needs and desires fought inside of me. I wanted so badly to say yes. To throw caution to the wind and be the Daddy he wanted. To forget about my own desires in favor of his. But I couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t lie and only give him half of myself. And claiming Daddy as a title? That wasn’t something I’d thought about in years.

“I see,” he said when I stayed silent for too long.

I hugged him tighter to my body when he tried to pull away. “No, you don’t,” I said furiously while he was still listening. “Turner, I can’t be anyone’s Daddy no matter how much I might wish otherwise.”

He stilled against me as he ceased fighting. “I don’t understand. You either want to date me, or you don’t. There’s no real in-between. I guess friends with benefits is sort of in the middle, but I don’t do that anymore. I mean, not since Tony, and that was a dumpster fire of epic proportions. Like he—”

“I want certain things that not a lot of people are willing to do,” I admitted. “Littles even less.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” he said, repeating the words I’d told myself for years but couldn’t quite believe. “You’ll never know if you don’t try—”

“I have tried.” I closed my eyes and rested my head on top of his as I worked up the courage to tell him something very few people knew. I hadn’t had to explain myself since Foster and Carson had heard the rumors and thought about revoking my membership to The Church. I was grateful they’d given me the benefit of the doubt and had heard me out. That I’d had references to back me up hadn’t hurt.

“I’ve been in the scene for a long time, Turner,” I began. “Since college. My first real boyfriend was submissive and introduced me to the lifestyle. It was great at first, but then he started wanting things I wasn’t ready for yet. Thinking back on it now, it was pretty light stuff. But at the time, it all seemed so big. And I wasn’t ready for what I wanted either. We broke up, and I started meeting other people. I started realizing how much stuff was out there and that the things I wanted didn’t make me any different from anyone else. I thought I could find someone who wanted them too.

“The first little I told wasn’t interested. I was discouraged, but it happens. Not everyone shares the same kinks, so I tried again. The second had a thing going on with this other guy. Okay. I never got a chance to ask a third. People found out what I liked, and it was a way bigger deal than I had ever expected. I didn’t understand it. And then they started saying other things. Things that were just blatant lies. It was a nightmare. And then all the littles started avoiding me. I started feeling like the creep Simon had called me earlier. I was the one everyone warned the new subs about.”

I didn’t have to tell him how much that hurt. I was sure he already knew by the way he hugged me tighter.

“I decided it wasn’t worth it. I left and found a different group. Started over. I boxed all those needs up and didn’t talk about them for a very long time. But rumors linger. No one around here really believed them. Except for the few who shared my interests and hoped the rumors were partially true. I had built a reputation of being respected by then. I found someone I trusted, and that first time… it was… it was….” I couldn’t find the words to describe how freeing it had felt. How the shame I’d bottled up inside had finally released its grip on me. I wasn’t a freak.

“I get it,” Turner said, his expression telling me he did. Most people in the lifestyle had those kinds of a-ha moments. When something they’d been dreaming about for years became a reality and it was as good as they had ever imagined.

“The community has become more accepting over the years. Most people around here know about me, but not the littles. Never the littles. I’d rather be the fun Dom who likes to play but looks elsewhere for partners than a Daddy all the littles are afraid to be alone with. I can’t do it again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and I could tell he meant it by the way his bottom lip trembled and the wetness in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault. It just is what it is.” A statement of fact.

“Well, are you going to tell me? What it is.” Turner tapped a finger against my chest. “You’re being very cryptic. I promise not to run away screaming, and if… if it’s not for me, I won’t punish you for it. I can keep your secrets.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky,” he said, lifting his finger for me to take. “The most sacred of promises.”

Wrapping my finger around his, I gave it a firm shake. Taking a deep breath, I started with a simple truth. “I like to roleplay.”

Turner giggled. “So do I. That’s not anything scary.”

Pulling back to look him in the eye, I lifted a brow. “You do?”

He nodded with a wide, conspiratorial smile. “It’s fun. You can be anybody you want to be. Like wizards and spies and superheroes.”

“Like cops and robbers?” I asked, throwing out a familiar childhood game that could easily fit into what I had in mind.

Turner gasped. “Yes! That sounds like fun.”

Pressing against him, I trapped him between my body and the bookcase at his back. Slipping a leg between his, I placed my hands on the shelf near his head and caged him in. I could feel him all along my body, could feel every shiver and response. There would be no hiding from me.

“Who’s the cop, and who’s the robber in this scenario?” I asked, fixing my gaze on his mouth when he licked his lips.

“You’re the robber,” he decided.

“I’m surprised.” I lifted a hand and cupped his chin. Cops were usually the ones in the position of authority. “Why am I the robber?”

He shifted against me, his budding erection rubbing against my thigh. “Because you’re dangerous.”

“Am I?” He had no idea, but he was about to. “I thought I got away with it, but you’re on to me. I can feel you breathing down my neck. You’re getting too close to me. I have to do something. I know your name and rank. From there, it’s easy to find your address. I wait until dark. It takes a while for the lights to go out. Do you have trouble sleeping, or are you still trying to find me?”

“Spencer?” His voice was unsteady, and his body trembled. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or aroused, but I had to continue. He had wanted to know the truth, and this was it.

“You must be getting sloppy because you left your back door unlocked. I slip in and find your place a mess. Empty takeout containers on the counter and boxes of evidence litter the dining room table. Someone isn’t taking care of themselves. For some reason, I don’t like that idea.”

Turner let out a little whimper, but that didn’t stop me from continuing.

“I climb the stairs. Your bedroom door is wide open. And there you are sprawled across your bed.” I reach up and tug his lip from between his teeth. “I didn’t expect you to be so gorgeous. I crouch next to the bed and study your face. You look exhausted. There are dark circles under your eyes, and I wonder what color they’ll be when you open them. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you. Time for a change of plans. This is no longer about stopping your investigation. This is about making you mine.

“I tie up your feet first. You’re so dead to the world you don’t even notice. In fact, you roll over for me like a good boy so I can bind your hands as well. You finally wake up when I stuff the gag in your mouth. I would prefer you without it, but I don’t trust you not to wake your neighbors. You twist and struggle to get away, but there’s nowhere to go. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

Turner’s breathing is heavy and his cock is hard against my thigh, but I don’t trust it.

I loomed over him and pressed my lips to his ear. “Turner, do you know what CNC stands for?”

His breath stuttered in his lungs as he nodded.

“What is it?” I asked, needing more acknowledgment than a simple nod.

“Con… consensual non-consent.”

“And that’s what I like.” I held my breath and waited for him to push me away, to run. Instead, he fisted his hands in my shirt and rocked against my thigh. Releasing my tight grip on the shelf, I grabbed his hips and pulled him as close as physically possible.

“You should be running from me.” I grimaced at my poor attempt to reason with him. I needed to let him go so he could return to his senses and make an informed decision, but hope was a cruel thing. I wanted to hang on to it for a little longer—the idea that he could still be mine. Sliding my hand down the back of his thigh, I shifted his weight and wrapped his leg around my hip, making him depend on me to hold him up.

“I don’t want to run,” he whimpered back. He tightened his hands on my shirt as if he feared I’d push him away. As if I ever would.

“You’re not thinking straight.” I dropped my forehead to rest against his.

“I haven’t thought straight since I was a teenager watching men’s gymnastics on TV.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his lame joke. “That would do it.”

“You laugh, but it was awkward as hell. My parents were sitting right next to me on the couch. I had to slap a pillow over my lap before they noticed.” He shuddered.

I rested my head in the crook of his neck and chuckled. He was such a fucking delight. Feeling his hand on my cheek, I let him lift my face and locked eyes with him. I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that his eyes were bright and clear as day.

“I’m thinking clearly now, and I don’t want to run away yet,” Turner said, his body still wrapped around mine.

“But—”

“But nothing.” Turner shook his head. “I get to decide what I am okay with and what my limits are. Not you.”

“Are you seriously telling me CNC isn’t one of your limits?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief from my voice.

“Nope.” He paused and tilted his head as he thought about it. “Actually, it is for now. We’re nowhere close to ready for that yet. I’ve…” He blushed and rolled his eyes at himself. “I’ve thought about it, you know. Had fantasies and stuff.” He shrugged as if it was nothing, and maybe it was. “I don’t know why, but I guess I just thought CNC was something people didn’t do in real life. No one ever really talks about it. Hell, I’ve never been a little with anyone besides Simon. What do I know?”

“It’s hard to talk about,” I said slowly. “Most people have very strong opinions about CNC. Some people say ‘you do you’ and others say ‘not under any circumstances.’ I’m never really sure which reaction I’ll get. It’s easier for people to come to me.”

Turner nodded, his hands picking at my shirt nervously. “Will you tell me about it? Wh-what you like and why?”

“You remember that boyfriend I was telling you about? The one from college. He ummm… when he was telling me about what he wanted, he gave me this random kink checklist he’d found online and printed out.” I laughed, thinking back to my youthful naiveté. “I hadn’t heard of two-thirds of the things on that list. Electrostim-what? Domestic discipline, huh? He asked me to take it home, look stuff up, and come back with my limits. CNC was on there.”

I thought back to the warm shame that had curled in my belly as I’d read article after article. After years of having the idea of consent drilled into my brain, the thought I wanted to act out scenes where I consciously broke it didn’t sit right with me. I had felt gross and disgusting for wanting to do something like that.

“I left that line blank. That and a few others. I thought if he said he was interested, I could say I was too. He was very much not. I wrote it off, figuring it was just as well.”

Reaching up, I slipped a finger under his chin and lifted his face. “You asked why. I don’t think I can explain it well enough. I like… I like feeling powerful and in control,” I said gently. “Doing what I want. I feel like there’s this primitive part of me that I’ve covered with a thin veil of civility. CNC is my chance to peek through the curtain. To take instead of give. And then there’s the taboo nature of it that feels exciting. Knowing you’re doing something a lot of people think is wrong…”

Turner nodded, his eyes going distant as he thought about my words. “I’ve thought about that before. About age play. I know most people think it’s weird and gross, and something about that… makes me want it more.” He fisted his hand and pressed it to his belly. “And CNC?” He shivered. “There’s this feeling of being… helpless.”

I brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Like all you could do was surrender?”

“Yeah,” he replied, staring up at me in need.

He couldn’t be real. I’d come into the drawing room expecting fear and revulsion, a cool apology as he stepped back and left the room. But this? Flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, and a hard cock rubbing against my leg wasn’t anything close to what I’d prepared myself for. He was breathtaking in his desire, and I wanted him more than ever. The bands I’d felt wrapped around my chest loosened and then slipped away. He still wanted me.

Reaching for me once more, Turner gazed up at me through his lashes with a look that was both innocent and knowing. “Spencer, are you going to finish my story?”