Going to California?

Chapter 5 – Confrontation and Arrangements

I'd arrived at Vought at six-thirty Monday morning and had been behind my desk for an hour when the door opened and Homelander walked in. Before I could control myself, I felt my expression change into sheer horror as my mind shot back to the balcony of my apartment and the feel of his erection under my hand. He saw it and his careful polite mask turned into an evil grin. "I see you weren't having an alcoholic blackout on Wednesday night, Ashley. That's good to know."

I wanted to ask him if he had an appointment but restrained myself. "No, I was just drunk."

"Drunk off your ass," he added helpfully.

I tried to keep the acid out of my voice. "Yes, I think we established that, sir."

Ostentatiously, he turned around and locked my office door. Fear blasted through me in a blood-freezing burst and I wanted to run, to jump out the window, but I was paralyzed. He must be so angry—he was always angry. He could murder me right here; Stan Edgar would cover for him, even as janitors scrubbed my blood off the floors and walls and ceiling. I couldn't move fast enough to get past him, I couldn't convince him with words not to kill me, so there was nothing to do but die. My hands tightened convulsively on the edge of my desk.

He'd taken a couple of steps toward me but halted suddenly, looking confused. Maybe there was a hint of sadness in his expression? Then he cut left and jumped onto my sofa, stretching out full-length on it, watching me. "Ashley, take off your panties and sit on my face. I want to make you come so hard you squirt."

"Christ, that's crude!" But his actions were so off the wall that surprise forced some of the fear away.

"I suppose Adam isn't?" He hadn't moved from the couch, his cape trailing over the side to brush the floor. "Or did he resolve your little sexual malfunction this weekend?"

Anger welled up at the jab, driving out the rest of the fear. "I don't have any malfunctions, and I would thank you never to bring that up again."

"That means he didn't. I didn't really think he would—he doesn't strike me as anybody who could show a woman a good time—but sometimes people get lucky. In the nonsexual sense, of course."

"Did you have something you wanted to discuss, sir?" Other than my panties and my sexual malfunction.

"Yes, I do. Thanks for reminding me." He straightened into a sitting position and patted the couch next to him. "Come here, Ashley. I don't want to scream across the room at you."

My knees wobbled a little as I obeyed him. I wanted to check my pulse but it would be easier just to ask him. Homelander smiled at me and took my hand, and a new icicle of fear pierced me. His smile faltered. "Don't do that, Ashley."

"Don't do what?" I squeaked.

"Don't be afraid. Do I need to get you drunk again to have a reasonable conversation? I thought we were past that."

That was crazy. All I could do was stare at him in shock. "You've spent every moment I've been with you for years trying to make me afraid of you. Hell, the first thing you did after I came back to Vought was cripple someone in front of me! And now you want to undo all that. Why?"

Homelander ignored the question. "While you were in LA, did you take the train up to San Francisco and say hello to Blindspot? I hear his dojo in Oakland's doing great."

I froze. "What…I don't…"

"Again, Ashley, you don't have secrets from me."

My voice squeaked again as I said, "Please don't hurt him. He hasn't done anything, he doesn't want to be in the Seven, he hasn't said a word—"

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "I don't care about him. I never did."

"Then why did you hurt him?"

"To show you that I'm in charge, you were not the second coming of Madelyn, and you had no say about the Seven."

"I never wanted to be Madelyn!" I cried. "I only wanted to show you that you were right to bring me back and that I could be an asset to you. I hadn't even offered him anything yet. I'd just asked him to train in our gym and let him know that a position in the Seven might—might—be in the offing if you were on board with it. Which you obviously weren't."

He gave me a questioning look as I tried to pull my hand out of his and he refused to allow it. "Why didn't you just tell me that?"

"When was I supposed to do that? While you were conning me into thinking everything was fine when I told you about him? When Blindspot was bleeding on the floor? While you were threatening me to get information about the executive suite? After that I wouldn't have said shit to you if I had a mouthful of it."

"I didn't threaten you."

"Not in words. I could see what happened to Blindspot just fine." I gave up trying to pull my hand away and sat there, staring at the floor.

Homelander was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "I should have gotten you out of those ugly pants and gone down on you for a couple of hours that day."

What was with the sudden obsession with oral sex? "I'm sure Blindspot would have preferred that."

Homelander smiled. "A little bit of sarcasm there. That must mean you're not as afraid of me as you have been."

"I'm all sarcasm and jokes. You just don't tolerate any of that, so you don't get to see my real personality. Nobody at work does."

Without warning Homelander wrapped an arm around my shoulders and stretched out on the couch again, bringing me down to lie next to him, pinned between his body and the couch's back. "What—what—" I spluttered.

"Relax. I just want you to lie down with me. No sex involved, unless you ask." I heard the smile in his voice and decided to ignore it. He'd moved his arm from my shoulders to my waist, and I didn't think he'd let me get up.

"Why do you want me to do that?" If he hadn't been Homelander, I'd think he was having a nervous breakdown.

"Like I said. I don't want you to be so afraid of me. You seem to think I'm some kind of hellbeast that's going to spring on you and rip your throat out." That wasn't far off, but I didn't share that thought with him. "So I think if we just lie here together and I don't kill you or anything, you might learn how to relax a little around me."

I expected him to follow that up with another crude sexual remark, but he was silent. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds like you want me to trust you."

"I wouldn't go that far, but—maybe. More than you do now, anyway. It'll make things easier for both of us later on."

"We don't have a basis for trust between us. And what do you mean, later on?"

But he shushed me and pulled me closer to him. "Let's just lie here for a while."

Well, if he didn't intend to talk to me, I knew I couldn't force him. My head rested on his shoulder and I tried to make myself loosen my tense muscles. His hand rubbed my back as he murmured, "Just relax, Ashley. Nothing bad will happen to you."

Says you, I wanted to tell him, but continued trying to relax. Were we cuddling? Cuddling? I didn't think Homelander knew how to cuddle, much less felt any desire to do that. But I couldn't deny it had been a long time since I'd been this close to anyone without demands made of me and I missed the physical comfort of it. I wondered what it would feel like if he'd been naked-

STOP THAT STOP THAT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!

He took hold of the hand that rested on his chest. "You jolted just then. Is anything wrong?"

"Just thinking."

He laughed a little. "What wrong things were you thinking about?"

No way was I going to mention anything about him being naked, despite a little twinge in my lower abdomen at the idea. "I'm trying to figure out how you think this will benefit you."

"Isn't it obvious? I'm a man. I like sex. I would like sex with you. Pretty simple, really."

"With my malfunction and all?"

He had the nerve to smile. "It got your mind off how scared you were, didn't it? Besides, I'm not sure that's the truth."

"The walking lie detector thinks I'm lying but isn't sure? Don't tell Stan Edgar that—he'd have you on the lifts at the garage in no time."

Homelander chuckled. "I'm liking that sarcasm, which is weird because usually it just pisses me off."

"Maybe you should call this a loss and take up with somebody like Queen Maeve or Stormfront." I felt him flinch at her name and tried to take the opportunity to roll over him and off the couch, but he caught me before I could and then I was lying full-length on top of him. If I'd wondered what he felt like, I was getting my answer. A shiver went through me.

"Well, well," he murmured. "Now this is an interesting position, Ashley. Thanks for thinking of it."

"Can you just let go of me? I'm sorry I tried to get away."

"You'll never get away, and I'm not going to let go. You feel too good." One of his hands, the one that wasn't around my waist, pulled my blouse out of the waistband of my skirt and slid over the bare skin of my back. Even though he still wore his glove, I couldn't hold back a shudder and cursed my body for reacting to him. "See, that's what I'm not understanding, Ashley. You liked what you were doing to me on the balcony and you like what I'm doing to you now." I opened my mouth and he cut me off. "That's not my ego talking. You forget who I am. I can hear your heart, fast or slow, your blood pressure, your breathing. I can sense other things you'd be more comfortable not knowing about. So it's not worth it to lie to me about whether you like touching me and being touched because I already know the truth. Can we make a bargain not to lie about that?"

"Sure, fine," I muttered.

"Does it embarrass you that you enjoy it?"

"We—don't have a relationship where I'm comfortable feeling this. I've spent too much time being petrified of you."

His eyes went distant, then focused on me again. "While you were away this weekend, I had time to think and came up with an idea about a way you might learn not to be afraid of me, if you still were. I like lying here with you, though, so I think we may do this every morning from now on. Just so you can get used to me physically."

I didn't know what to say to that. "I don't understand why you're pursuing this. We had dinner and I got drunk and made a pass. We're not friendly and have never had anything other than a professional relationship. You've never given me any reason to think you wanted anything else. Ever. I would have expected you to let it go."

"That last part was a lie," he said. "What did you expect me to do with our little after-dinner encounter?"

I sighed and tried to squirm away from him. He responded to that by bringing one leg up between mine so I was straddling his thigh. I let out a surprised gasp and stopped wriggling before saying, "I wish you would let a lie go occasionally, just for shits and giggles."

"Not today," he told me. "What did you expect?"

"Fine. I expected you to use it against me. I expected you to mock me for it and humiliate me, the way you do with everything else. Maybe make it public information just to shame me more. Or maybe tell Stan Edgar I'd sexually harassed you so he would fire me."

"Why would I want you fired? I'm the one who brought you back to Vought in the first place after Madelyn fired you. I wanted you here."

"I don't know why you do anything. Your plans are–opaque at the best of times."

"Why don't you believe I might just want to fuck you? That can't be such a new and unusual thing."

"Because you don't. I'm a talking lamp to you. I've seen your type and I am not that. I'm not a supe and I'm not beautiful. I could maybe believe you'd decide I'd do if you'd been…let's say deprived. But you can get pretty much any woman you want, so I doubt if you've been living like a monk."

"You might be surprised. I haven't had any…attachments since Stormfront."

I wasn't sure I believed that. He definitely could plow as many groupies as he wanted. Maybe he was grieving? I asked myself. Homelander had loved her, I felt sure. Just the way I thought he'd loved Madelyn, the way he'd loved Queen Maeve. Something unsettling occurred to me then; unless he had some woman hanging around that I'd missed, I was the only woman in his life that he'd formed any connection with, even if the connection was nothing but shouting at me and name-calling. Convenience, thy name is Ashley.

Homelander went on. "And where did you get the idea that I only like to do things that hurt?"

I gave him a questioning look. "When did I say that?"

"When you were drunk off your ass and trying to let me down gently."

"Which clearly didn't work." He opened his mouth again and I said, "Yes, I remember. If you must know, I'm the one who let the contractor in to do the repairs on Stormfront's apartment after you and she—let's say 'became one flesh.' I had a good look around. That kind of damage doesn't come from soft words and candlelight, that's for sure."

"Oh." He was quiet for a while and I wondered what time it was. My first appointment was at eight-thirty and I didn't think it would look appropriate to the head of Marketing for the CEO of Vought to be lying on top of a supe on her office couch when he got there. "You have to know I wouldn't do…I wouldn't use that amount of strength with you." I let out a snort. "Do you think I've never touched a non-supe woman before? I can control my strength." When I rolled my eyes, he put a hand under my chin and forced me to look at him directly. "Did you ever see Madelyn with injuries? Even little ones like hickeys?"

"Uh—no."

"Did you ever know Becca Butcher?"

"No, I didn't start working here until a couple of months after she quit."

"Okay. Well, nothing happened to her from the sex except that she got pregnant. So I can manage being with a non-supe." I didn't say anything, but he made me keep looking at him. "Ashley, I promise you that when we do this you're absolutely safe. I will never hurt you during sex, unless you want me to do something like spank you, or that kind of thing."

"Spanking's not something I go for."

"But it does remind me of why I was in your office to begin with. I told you that I'd come up with an idea about how you could be more comfortable with me."

"It wasn't this?" I indicated our position on the couch with a sweep of my hand.

"No, that was spur-of-the-moment after you almost fainted from fear when I locked the door. My plan—and actually think about it before you say no—is to have a few scenes with you, like you're planning with Adam."

"You think subbing for you is going to make me less afraid? That's—"

"Ashley, can you let me finish? I'm not going to dominate you. You're going to dominate me."

The breath left me in an instant as I had a mental flash of Homelander tied to a bed, naked, with me kneeling over him, caressing him as he arched against the bonds and made a deep noise of pleasure, and a wave of tingling warmth passed through me. "Uh—I don't know."

But he was grinning. "The hell you don't. Oh, you liked that idea. You liked it a lot, so why don't we just pretend you've already let me talk you into it and get down to the important parts—where and when?"

Even considering this was a mistake. A big, big mistake. Getting any more entangled with Homelander than my job at Vought required was begging for disaster. I knew he'd been telling the truth about not hurting Madelyn, from the time I'd spent as her assistant, and I couldn't speak to Becca's experience as I had no first-hand knowledge. But I knew there must have been groupies by the truckload and, as far as I knew, Vought had never had to cover anything up in that area. And, to be fair to him, although he'd been threatening and insulting toward me, he'd never been physically violent toward me. When he wanted to make me hurt, he restricted himself to inflicting emotional damage, like with the wig incident, where he'd forced me to be worse than naked in front of A-Train and the Deep. I suspected he'd thought of that before suggesting his plan. Did he think the idea of punishing him would sweeten the pot for me? But, judging by my physical response to the suggestion, he might have guessed right.

"Do you know what I did after I left you on the balcony Wednesday night?" he asked.

"Went back to the Tower, I guess."

"Any guesses as to what I did when I got back to my apartment?"

"Uh—went to sleep?"

"Eventually, but not before I jerked off thinking about you."

Why was this a surprise to me? He was a grown man and I knew I'd left him aroused. Maybe it was that he thought about me instead of Queen Maeve or Stormfront or Madelyn. "You…did?"

He laughed. "All I had to do was think about that blowjob you offered me, and that rose-petal mouth of yours wrapping around my dick, and that was it. Like, less than a minute. Good thing you weren't there or I would have embarrassed myself." I didn't say anything until he ran a finger over my lips. "I'm obsessed with your mouth. Have been for a long time."

All I could say was, "Why am I just now finding out about all of this?"

Homelander shrugged. "The time wasn't right."

That triggered a light-bulb moment, if he was telling the truth. He had never had any competition, so there was no hurry. But now that Adam had shown a real interest, a desire to take me away from Vought, away from him, he needed to do something to keep me here for his own convenience, even if he had to make the sacrifice of sleeping with me. He was nothing if not pragmatic. It was a depressing line of thought, but most likely true. "Why is the time right now?" I just wanted to know what lie he'd tell me.

"Because I'm tired of denying myself. I want you and if I need to submit to you sexually to get you to stop being afraid of me, I'll do it." He flashed a grin at me. "And I have to say that I'm curious. I want to know what you'll do to me."

The image of him, bound and writhing in pleasure, returned, along with a new image of me kneeling at Homelander's feet, his hands on my shoulders, as I used my mouth on him. None of this was bringing down my temperature, especially with his thigh between mine and the feel of his body under me. "Nothing you didn't agree to in advance."

"Come on, Ashley. You know you want to. Doesn't it make you all tingly to think about me doing whatever you say? And I'll be naked when I do."

I hated myself for it, but I wanted this. The physical responses he evoked—I hadn't felt that way in years, and it made me ashamed that I needed to feel it again. "Oh my God, I can't believe this."

"Just say yes, Ashley. Let's be honest about wanting to play with each other."

Dammit! And I gave up. "We can do it once. If that goes well, we can maybe do it again."

"That's my girl," he said, and pulled me up his body enough to bring his mouth to mine. Since I'd already lost the fight, I buried my fingers in his hair and kissed him back with as much passion as I could manage. He might have been surprised by my response, but he took advantage as soon as he felt it to let his hands move all over me and I began squirming against him again. How well could he feel me through the material of the suit and its built-in muscles? The thought floated away on a tide of sensation as I gave myself up to the moment.

Which ended abruptly when my secretary knocked on the door. "Ms. Barrett? Your eight-thirty is here?"

I tore my mouth away from his to call out, "Give me five minutes. Gina. I'm finishing up an emergency meeting with Homelander."

"Yes, Ms. Barrett," she replied.

His breathing was heavy and I was almost panting. I put the embarrassment away for the moment and said, "Can we get together for lunch? We need to arrange this."

"Absolutely. I look forward to it. Come by my apartment when you're ready." He let me go and got off the couch himself, straightening his cape and running a gloved hand through his hair.

"You have my lipstick on," I told him.

He gave me a smile and swiped at his mouth with the back of his glove. "Better?"

"Much." I checked my wig to make sure it was on straight.

"Wait a minute," said Homelander. He came over to me and put a hand on the back of my neck, moving the thumb of his right hand over my lips. My lipstick went with it, a dark red smear on the cloth. I was surprised I had any left after the past few minutes. "Was it messed up?"

"Yes, but I don't like it when you wear dark lipstick. It hides your mouth from me. I like that rose-colored lipstick you used to wear, the one that looked like you weren't wearing any."

Goodbye Chanel Vamp, I guess. "Duly noted."

My schedule was solid meetings until twelve-thirty, but I couldn't give them more than partial attention. The impending lunch with Homelander squatted in the center of my mind, defeating any efforts to pay attention to my work. You fucked up, I told myself as I locked the office door behind me and told Gina, "I'm going to lunch now."

"Remember, you have the meeting with Maureen at two o'clock."

"Thanks," I told her, work already receding into the distance as I walked toward Homelander's apartment. My heart rate was up—I could feel that myself. I wondered what he would make of it. I also wondered if I'd need to get something out of the snack machines because I'd invited myself over on short notice and didn't know if he'd have food.

It turned out he'd ordered pizza for us, but I was nervous enough for it to taste like cardboard, even though he'd somehow figured out that I liked veggie pizza without black olives. "So how do we do this?" he asked. We sat on his couch with the pizza on the coffee table and I was trying to separate two pieces where it hadn't been sliced completely.

"Well, the first thing I want to do is get a safeword for you."

"A safeword's like a super-no, right?"

I laughed. "Some people like to say no and stop as part of their fantasy, but they don't really mean it. It's confusing if they haven't made that clear. The safeword makes it clear you want to stop whatever's happening. It can be just a time-out for a few minutes or it can be an utter stop, but you need to have one."

"I don't think you're going to do anything that I'll need to stop."

"Regardless…" If I was any judge, Homelander had unhandled trauma by the truckload and I wanted to know when we'd stumbled into an unsafe area.

"What's yours?"

"Bioluminescence. It helps if it isn't a common word."

He sat back and looked at me for a minute before saying, "Redhead. How's that?"

Wow. What were the chances of Adam and Homelander coming up with the same safeword? "Could you pick something else? Adam already picked out that one."

"I'd say great minds think alike, but we both know he's not that. How about Roosevelt?"

"It's fine. Don't feel bad about using it if you need to."

"I'm sure I won't. What else?"

"Well, normally a domme calls herself something else if she's working professionally, but it might be a good idea to have something else to call me, to separate everyday Ashley from your domme."

He grinned. "I like that. My domme."

"Usually it's just Mistress Whatever."

"Okay, so you're Mistress when we're doing this. It brings up something I'd wanted to talk to you about." I nodded to let him know I was listening. "When we're doing this, I want you to call me John."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "May I ask why?"

"When you say Homelander, it makes you anxious. You don't have the same baggage with John. And I want you to be more relaxed with me."

"Fair enough. It's a good idea." He seemed happy I'd complimented him. "When and where is good for you?"

"Here. In the bedroom, of course. It'll have to be lunch tomorrow because Ryan eats lunch at school, so it's the only time he isn't here."

Wednesday night I'd been so sunk in my own fears that I hadn't given a thought to Ryan. After he came to live with his father on a permanent basis, I'd gotten him enrolled in a Montessori school that Homelander insisted on referring to as 'the hippie school,' but Ryan had never been in a structured school environment. Once he got the knack of making friends and was more comfortable with people, we could see about transferring him to a more structured school. He seemed to be settling in nicely, though. "Where was he when we were having dinner?"

"Upstairs in his room. I told him we had a date and he should put his headphones on and listen to music. Or play video games. His choice."

Dr. Winterbourne and I had been right. Dinner had been a date. "Okay, so lunch tomorrow. Is there anything in particular that you want me to wear?"

He snorted. "You mean like leather and stiletto heels?"

"If you want that. If you want something else, tell me and I'll make it happen."

"Okay." He thought about it for a minute. "Wear that dress you wore to Nobu on Friday night. Whatever shoes you want. No underwear."

It surprised a grin out of me. "Do you want to be restrained in any way?" He rolled his eyes. "I know it won't do any good as far as keeping you from doing what you want because you're so strong, but it—"

"Do you want me to be restrained? It might help with you being afraid, even if I can pop anything you put on me like tissue paper."

Why did I feel like he knew that would turn me on? "Okay, we can do that."

"You're not answering the question. Do you want to tie me up?"

Oh yeah, he knew that would turn me on. I sighed. "Yes, I want to tie you up. That was the first thing I thought of when you mentioned subbing for me."

He grinned and took a big bite of his pizza slice. "I like it when you're honest, Ashley. So what do you have in mind—handcuffs, zip ties, silk scarves?"

"Not zip ties. They can give you scars and they're hard to cut a person out of if there's an emergency. Handcuffs are fine, but they don't feel good. So I'll probably go with silk scarves, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine with me. Anything that makes you more comfortable."

"Is there anything in particular that you want to do, that would excite you? Any little preferences you have. Any kinks." Was it safe to poke around the edges of what I'd seen the day he deafened Blindspot?

He opened his mouth but didn't say anything for a bit. "Sort of." I made an uncertain noise. "Is it all right if I sort of suckle you? Your breasts, I mean."

"Uh—sure. Whatever you want." So he didn't trust me enough to come out with the whole thing. I'd expected as much. "If something occurs to you during the scene, just let me know. And remember, don't be hesitant about using your safeword if I do something that you don't like."

Homelander grinned at me. "You're so protective, Ashley. I love it."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all. I do enjoy you being protective of me."

I didn't know what to do with that. "So what do you want to do sexually, other than suckle me? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to finish up that handjob you started Wednesday. Since this is our first time, I'm willing to take it a little more slowly that I would otherwise."

"I can do that."

"More important, what do you want me to do for you? Sexually, I mean."

I took a minute to choose my words. "At this point, you don't need to do anything. You already know that I don't have orgasms, so it would be beside the point."

"And you already know I think I can make you come, so what does that do to the situation?"

"Nothing. For now I want to see whether you can let me have control over the scene. It's not just about the domme respecting the sub's wishes, you know. It goes both ways."

"And ripping through those silk scarves to go down on you until you're begging me for more would be against your wishes?"

"At this time, yes. I don't want to have to worry about you losing control of yourself while we're doing a scene. Is that something I should be concerned with?"

Homelander waved a dismissive hand. "I'm as controlled as I need to be. You don't have to concern yourself with unrequested orgasms."

The way he put that…"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I've never been surer of anything. Do you want to back out, Ashley?"

"No."

He smiled at me. "Then it's settled. Lunch tomorrow."

I pushed down my worry and said, "Lunch tomorrow." I hoped I hadn't just made the biggest mistake of my life, bigger than coming back to Vought when Homelander asked. No sense in raking myself over the coals for giving in to wanting him—if he wanted me too, the outcome was almost predetermined.

"Are you going to tell Adam about this?"

"Fuck, no! He was angry enough when he thought we might be together. If he knew it for sure—well, it's just best that he not be in the know."

"So I'm your side piece, huh?"

"I guess you could say that. Does that make you mad?"

He gave me a look I couldn't read. "No. You have reasons for being with him, but your reason for being with me is pure desire. I think I'm better off than he is."

That was unexpected. "I'm glad you think that." I wondered if he'd still think that after we had our scene. Against my wishes, I found myself hoping that he would.