Page 281 of Disarm
“Rest,” I say. “Having fun that’s not trauma-adjacent. Being in nature. Maybe some light revisiting of Halloween, if it feels good. But only if it feels good.”
He nods slowly. “Light revisiting,” he echoes. “Like… fear play, but not as a panic response. More… intentionally spooky.”
I shoot him a look. “You really want to talk kink while your sock drawer is vomiting on the floor?”
“Yes,” he says. “Because it’s going to be in my head either way. I’d rather we’re on the same page before we go up into the branches.”
“Okay,” I say, exhaling. “Then yeah. Tentatively. We can talk about maybe bringing some stuff back in. Rope. Masks. Whatever feels right. But we go in with safety cranked to a hundred.”
His eyes darken at “rope,” but he doesn’t slide into sex brain.Progress.
“Color system?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” I say. “No macho bullshit. If either of us says “yellow,” we slow down. Red, we stop. No questions, no pouting. Even if you think you ‘should be able to handle it,’ we honor what’s actually happening in your body.”
Caleb nods. “Same for you,” he says firmly. “You doing the whole ‘I can take it, I’m the big bad top’ thing and then quietly dissociating is also not on the menu.”
I flinch, because… yeah.
“Partner route,” I say.
“Not the martyr route,” he finishes.
We look at each other for a second, the phrase hanging between us like a banner we actually kind of believe in now.
“And,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’ve been thinking about… maybe… switching it up. Sometimes.”
I cock my head. “Switching what up?”
His ears go pink. “Top and bottom,” he says. “I know we’ve talked about it before. But it always felt like… theory. Now I actually… want to. A little. To… be in charge, I guess. With your consent. Obviously.”
Warmth floods my chest. Not just because, yeah, the idea of him taking the lead does things to me, but because of what it means for him to want control back in his body and his sex life, not just in his trauma narrative.
“I’m down,” I say simply.
He blinks. “That’s it?” he asks. “No teasing? No ‘Caleb, you’re such a horny control freak’?”
“Oh, I’m absolutely thinking that,” I say. “But I’m trying to be a respectful partner right now.”
He huffs. “I appreciate your restraint,” he says dryly.
I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. “We can talk details later,” I say. “What feels good. What doesn’t. Hard nos. Soft maybes. But the headline is: I trust you. If topping me helps you feel powerful, I’m in. As long as we’re both listening to ourselves and each other.”
His eyes go shiny. “You know I’m terrified of hurting you,” he says quietly.
“I know,” I say. “And I also know you already have. And we’re still here. So maybe part of this trip is letting ourselves play in the ‘good hurt’ sandbox again, carefully, without pretending the bad hurt never happened.”
He swallows. “You really did absorb a lot of therapy,” he says. “I’m impressed.”
“Dr. K and Luis are going to start charging me co-pays,” I say. “Anyway. What else do we need for the trip besides emotional contracts and too many hoodies?”
Caleb sniffs, then laughs a little. “Snacks,” he says. “Books. Your Switch. My journal. Maybe… a copy of my safety plan.”
“Already printed,” I say. “Multiples. One for your bag, one for the glove compartment.”
He turns his nose up at me. “You’re such a nerd,” he whispers.
“You love it,” I shoot back.
