A/N: for full effect, take a piece of dark chocolate, place it on the tip of your tongue and let it melt. Do not swallow it. Do not chew. Enjoy. And Happy New Year! If anyone has song suggestions for this fic, or musical-prompts for short stories for Bethyl Smut Week please PM me!

("Water Me" by FKA-twiggs)

Balance

Chapter 5: Water Me

She toyed with a napkin, glancing down again into her cup of coffee.

He sighed. She was avoiding his gaze and he wasn't certain how much was because of her dishonesty. But there would be time to talk about that later.

"What's your name?" he asked. She finally looked up at him and glanced down at the words on the mug. "Don't expect me to call you 'Cherry-Angel' all the time, do you?" Her head tilted to one side and her brow furrowed as she contemplated her answer. The silence stretched for another thirty seconds before his patience wore thin. He let out a sharp puff of air in exasperation and took a deep breath.

"I guess I could call you 'Cherry' til you're tired of it."

"How about 'Angel?'" He met her eyes, his own hard against her soft questioning orbs.

"No." S'not a damn romance novel. "Why, does it make you uncomfortable?" She nodded. "Good."

"What's your name?" she countered.

"Hunter." Her deadpan stare made him want to smile.

"Is that really your name?"

"No. I'll give you mine when you tell me yours."

"Fine."

Before the following silence stretched again, he reached into his pocket and gave her a piece of paper, with a printed list on it. As she glanced down the list her eyes widened.

"I know, it's a little overwhelming," he said as he watched her reaction, "It's a little easier if you start with crossing out everything you're not willing to do. At all. Then go ahead and make a mark for what you're willing to try or curious about. And then the things you've done or think you'll have fun with."

"Fun?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes glinting with mischief and suppressing a smile, "some people think this is fun."

She stared at him, lips twitching at the absurdity of the statement, the situation. He held her gaze and let that smile spread across his features, silently relieved when she returned it with one of her own. The first smile he'd seen on her. Didn't quite reach her eyes.

He took a sip of his coffee nodded at the paper before her. "You go ahead and fill that out, let me know if you have any questions. I'll be right back." He stood, leaving her to stare with perplexity into the list and went to the bar, ordering two large cups of water. While he waited, he leaned against the counter, eyes casually taking in the coffee shop. The greens and browns. The woman sitting at his table.

She'd obviously been out the night before and looked slightly hung-over. The makeup looked like it was from the evening prior, smudged from sleep. Beneath it all, she was pretty, with her large blues and blonde hair twining down her back, over her shoulder. Her ankles crossed under the table as she paused, fingering something on the list with her brows drawing together. He smiled softly, wondering what she'd seen. If she wanted to try it. His smile tugged further at the corners and he realized with a pinprick of anticipation that he was hoping she'd tell him what it was. It's been so long. So long. He cleared his throat, taking the proffered water and shaking himself.

This isn't for you, Hunter, he kicked himself into mental submission. You're here for her.

Doesn't mean you can't enjoy it…said a voice which slid through his mind. He pushed that one back into its corner along with the twisted mix of desire and guilt threading its way through his chest.

The water swirled around the cup as he set it down beside the paper, turning his head to see her progress before he sat down. He smiled, in spite of himself.

Less than half of the list remained. Half of that was crossed out entirely; the last quarter was marked with a series of little question marks and stars.

Inner child, he thought to himself.

"Let me know when you're –

She pushed the list toward him before he'd finished the sentence. He looked. Most of what he expected to be had been crossed out. The stars were next to what was left: bondage, submission, leather, role-playing, slave training. The question-marks were next to intricate rope bondage, sensation play, impact play, punishment, wax play…there were more question-marks than anything else.

Mostly what he'd expected. The entire "Sex" section had been crossed out with a large 'X', one entry in particular scribbled into a black mess of nothing. Squinting at it for a second, he had his guesses which it was. He wasn't surprised at that one either. Most women, especially new, crossed that one out.

"So," he said, leaning on his arms over the table, "You've got a lot of question-marks. Let's begin with 'sensation play.'"

After going over the list and negotiating a few things, he invited her back to his apartment and she agreed. No point in prolonging the inevitable. She covered the thought with a small fake smile.

The apartment is clean, sparse. He moved through the space comfortably, his own despite the lack of time spent within its walls. As he moved about, taking objects from shelves, cupboards and a closet, she surveyed the apartment. The walls were the standard white and the carpet beige. The entrance was narrow and led into a single large room which encompassed the living room and kitchen. Another hallway narrowed the opposite end of the living-space and disappeared in darkness. She could only assume it led to his bedroom.

She idly wondered what his bedroom looked like.

She moved to the table, positioned in the space between the kitchen and living-space. He'd laid out a number of items: a plastic spatula, twine, a scarf and a bar of Godiva dark chocolate.

She glanced at him, wondering what the heck they were going to do with all of this.

"You wondered what the difference between 'Sensual' and 'Sexual' are, right?" She nodded, again looking down at the assortment of items on the table laid out as though they were so much cutlery for a meal.

"Feeling brave?" She tilted her head to the side, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He had removed his jacket and as he stood there casually, his lips curled up into a small smile as he glanced at her.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Something simple, if you're up for it." He held up a hand and pressed the air down before her, hesitating to touch her arm where she reached to finger the spatula. "I know, a little fast; this'll be something small. A taste," he said with that flash of something in his eyes as he smiled. Something about him looked positively…wicked.

"If you want to stop, just say the safeword." They'd gone over safewords and safety in the coffee shop, having refilled their mugs twice. He pursed his lips for a moment, finger brushing over his lips as he regarded her.

"Your safeword is 'red.' Some people use something more personalized, 'red' is a good universal."

She paused for a second, trying and failing to come up with something. She shook her head. "I can't think of a thing."

"Don't worry. We'll figure something out."

"Okay." She squared herself before him, a little apprehensive but not afraid. I mean, there was a candy bar on the table for crying out loud. What could he do with a spatula? A scarf?

"We're going to play a little game," he hesitated half a second, "Cherry. Dominance and Submission are pretty self-explanatory. I tell you do something and you follow directions. Got it?" She nodded.

"Got it. So, what now?"

"You ready?"

It was her turn to hesitate. She glanced down at the table and looked back at him with more resolve. "Yeah." His head tilted as he regarded her, eyes taking on a slightly sharper edge. She didn't know how else to describe it. Whatever it was, the look sent her heart beating a little faster.

"Yes," he corrected, an edge in his voice that hadn't been there a moment ago. She blinked at the change and swallowed, lifting her chin in challenge. To him, to herself and what she was committing to.

"Yes," she repeated steadily.

"Take the blindfold and stand over there," he gestured to the empty space in the living room where a table – or something – should be. She looked again at the contents of the table and picked up the scarf, moving to stand in the middle of the living room. He stayed beside the table – she noted that it oddly had no chairs – and picked up the twine.

"Place it over your eyes and tie it at the back of your head." She hesitates, blinking once. He stays where he is, sighing quietly but with patience. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says with tenderness, "Promise. You're going to have to trust me, if we're going to do this at all. Any of it."

Haven't earned it yet, she thought to herself. But it made sense. She raised the cloth to her face and wrapped it once around her head, covering her eyes and tying it at the base of her skull. She heard his footstep coming slowly, steadily closer and resisted the urge to step back. She felt fingertips on her hand and jerked, surprised.

"Kneel, then reach both arms behind your back" he said. His tone was soft, but it was no less an order. She knelt, carefully holding out a hand to find the floor and help herself settle on her knees as she lowered herself down. It was different, with the blindfold. Disorienting. When she was confident in her balance, she reached both hands behind her back.

"Open your hands." She did, finding a piece of twine pressed into both palms and she instinctively grasped it in her fingers. "Don't let that go," he said with warning. She nodded.

"You're going to open your mouth and stick out your tongue," Blindfolded and kneeling, the suggestion brought a mental image to her mind's eye that had her gut clenching in distaste, a grimace surely on her lips.

It was delivered in soft tones, though no less than what it was: "Red."

There was silence and she felt more than heard that he'd stepped backward. "You okay?" he asked, mild concern lacing his voice.

She paused, taking a breath slowly and contemplating her answer. Nodded. He hadn't actually done anything to her and she wasn't going to let her imagination run away with her. Not again.

"Yeah." Truth. "Just testing," she lied.

"Good," he said, voice back to business and brusque. "You're going to stick out your tongue," he said again, speaking as though the words weren't at all suggestive while she knelt before him blindfolded, "and I'm going to place a piece of chocolate on it."

"Do not," his voice was implacable, "eat it. Understand me?" She nodded. "Good. Open your mouth."

She did, sticking out her tongue, feeling more than a little silly. Her tongue had begun to dry a little in the air as she listened to the crinkle of wrapper and she pulled it back in, swallowing the gathering saliva before sticking her tongue out once more. The air before her face warmed a little and seconds later she felt the chocolate square press gently to the tip of her tongue. Just the sweet, not even the barest brush of fingers, for all that she could feel his warmth in the air on her skin. She shifted, waiting. Her mouth opened and she drew her tongue back in.

"Don't," he said, giving her pause, "Don't close your mouth. Just let it sit there and melt on your tongue." So she did. After a few moments, she began to taste the chocolate a little more. First it was a tingle in her taste buds and then she tasted the sweet, so sharp. It began a slow aching in her tongue. Carefully, she swallowed, feeling a little awkward, making sure it stayed put.

It was hard – harder than she'd thought it would be. After only a few moments, perhaps thirty seconds – a minute? Her throat ached with the desire to swallow that piece of candy, to close her mouth around it and run it over her tongue, her palette and savor its taste. Her hands began to tremble, her breathing deepened subtly. She tightened her fingers around the twine, pulling it apart in an attempt to excise her desire to…it wasn't enough.

Her tongue rose in her mouth, still open but barely as she pressed the chocolate to the roof of her mouth and slowly rubbed the tip of her tongue against it. She gasped sharply when she felt it: the edge of something long and hard beneath her chin. The edge felt sharp. She wished she could open her eyes, closed beneath the blindfold when she felt the air warm, breath disturbing her hair.

"Not going to swallow that now, are you?" purred a rumbling voice before her, nearly in her ear and sending goose-flesh prickling along her neck and arms. She opened her mouth a little wider, ache sharpening against her desire to eat that damnedly delicious piece of chocolate, showing him as proof of her obedience.

Obedience. That last word made her gut twist, rankle and her jaw set.

Defiance. She swallowed.

The air in the room seemed to still, its silence ringing suddenly in her ears. The edge at her throat slid slowly up her chin and away. She knew he was still standing there; she hadn't heard him move.

Just when she began wondering if he had left her there, she felt again his radiating warmth and a tugging at the back of her head. The blindfold released and she blinked at the sudden light.

Eyes. Blue eyes, something dark, sharp, measuring her. She froze, holding her breath as she knelt, pinned in place by his gaze like a songbird staring into the eyes of a hawk. She gripped the twine in her hands even harder to keep from trembling.

"If this had been another time," he said in a voice of soft warning, "there would be punishment right now." He said the word, punishment, as though it suggested words like 'soft,' 'bed' and 'fuck' all at once.

She let out a shaky breath, her throat tightening, a strange tingling running through her body at the threat in his words. She swallowed a couple times before she could speak, fighting goose-flesh rising on her arms.

"Then I guess it's a good thing we're not doing that."

He smiled. It reached his eyes, made them spark with something she had no name for.

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out."

A/N: I'm so, so sorry for getting this up so late. Frankly this chapter has been like pulling teeth: surprisingly difficult to write, aggravatingly slow and in desperate need of encouragement. But I felt like it had to be written. This, all without a beta-reader. If anyone is interested, I'm taking applications for arse-kicking, encouragement, venting and general hullabaloo! Thank you all for sticking with me and your reviews, I'm sorry I didn't get to them all. Happy New Year!