Going to California?

Chapter 9 – Rain and Revelations

When Homelander turned up at my office on Tuesday morning for our usual lie-down, I asked him, "Do you have any objections to having another scene on Thursday?"

He grinned. "Well, let me think—no."

I smiled back. "Then I'll have something overnighted to you. I want you to put it on your bed Thursday, before I get there. No sheets or pillows, just what I've sent you."

"Okay. Do you want to tell me what this is about?"

"Not this time. Thursday is going to be a surprise."

"That sounds menacing."

That made me laugh. "Good memory, but I think you'll be extremely pleased with what I have planned for you."

"I'm in your hands."

"Not yet but soon." This time I'd brought my outfit the day before and left it in the closet of his bedroom for greater convenience. My ripped champagne-colored Vought dress also hung in his closet. I hadn't remembered leaving it, so he must have hung it up himself. There had been room in his closet before this, since all that was in there were duplicate Homelander costumes, but seeing my clothes nestled against his…it disturbed me, especially because I had the feeling I could get comfortable with the present situation. I really enjoyed dominating him, enjoyed my physical responses to him, and that was a trap I had to guard against. I couldn't forget the existence of the usual Homelander, a side of him that would never want anything or anyone to dominate him, especially me. It was time to ask some hard questions and see if John would give me answers.

"I'm not coming back to the office after lunch, Gina. I'll be working from home," I told my secretary as I left.

"Yes, Ms. Barrett," she said. Was that a flicker of knowing amusement in her eyes? I turned away from her without changing expression, but my stomach had fallen. I knew I couldn't keep this quiet forever, but I'd hoped it would take the rumor mill a little longer to creak into full swing. When I'd first come back to Vought after Madelyn fired me, I knew a lot of rumors had swirled about me getting her job by fucking Homelander, and now the rumors seemed to have a more solid foundation. But maybe I shouldn't feel bad about it. Madelyn had fucked his brains out when he was probably underage and nobody had ever thrown it up in her face. That was most likely because they would have been fired and blacklisted, but at least fear of her had kept them quiet. I didn't have what it took to make people afraid of me.

I was in a low mood when I got to Homelander's apartment but tried to hide that for his sake. Better to think about what was going to happen, forget about everything but the scene. I would have his cock in my mouth very soon, and I wanted to enjoy myself and satisfy him. There was nothing wrong with that, regardless of whether we worked together. At least he wasn't underage the way he'd been with Madelyn.

He'd gotten Chinese food from Joe's Shanghai for lunch. "I don't have to hurry off today. I told Gina I was working from home after lunch."

Homelander smiled. "More time for us. I like that."

Should I tell him I thought word was getting around that he and I might be—well, I doubted anyone had figured out the truth of the matter, but at least that we were having some kind of sex? Nobody would have the nerve to mention any rumors to him, but that hearing of his made secret-keeping practically impossible. I didn't have enough time to decide because he'd already noticed something off. "What's wrong?"

I sighed and dropped my purse onto his couch. "It's really nothing. It would have happened anyway. I think people know that we're—"

"Fucking? Dating?"

"I'd assume they think fucking."

When I looked at him he was smiling. "Did you expect people not to notice when there was a picture of us in a major daily newspaper on a date?"

"Oh God, you're right. I'm such an idiot. I forgot all about that. Of course talk would get around." How in the world had I forgotten that even after Adam had chewed my ass for it?

"Don't worry about it until Stan Edgar says something to you. Which he won't because I'm okay with the situation."

"All right." I did my best to let go of the discomfort over people knowing—or suspecting—something about what he and I were to each other and concentrate on the upcoming scene. "Let's go upstairs. I've been thinking about this all week."

Homelander's smile broadened. "I'm flattered, Ashley."

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him briefly. "I'm glad. Do you still remember your safe word?"

"Roosevelt. Yes, I do."

"Then we should be all set." I pushed down my misgivings about what I intended after our scene, when he was relaxed, but reminded myself it had to be done.

He wrapped his arms around me and flew us both up the stairs to the second floor, the way he had the first time, and again I couldn't help laughing. "I like to hear you laugh," he murmured. I didn't say anything but brushed my lips against his temple, near his hairline. The display of affection was so unconscious I didn't realize what I'd done until it was too late. But this wasn't the usual Homelander who terrorized me, so there was no harm in it. I tried to believe that.

I retrieved my outfit and shoes from his closet and took it into the bathroom. "Remember, when I open this door I'm Mistress and you obey."

"And I'm John."

"I remember." I gave him a little smile. "I'm going to have to leave the wig off because we'll be in the shower."

He waved a hand. "That's fine."

"We're using this bathroom, correct?"

"Yes. We'll both be more comfortable there."

"All right. I think Thursday would be a good day for the jewelry that you mentioned. If that's something you're still interested in."

"It is." His interest sharpened. "So you're planning on being completely naked on Thursday?"

"It's still a surprise, but yes." I didn't see any harm in letting him know that.

"I'm glad. There's nothing wrong with your body, Ashley. You have nothing to be insecure about."

Mentally I rolled my eyes. He'd never seen me naked and didn't know the scars I concealed. I hoped he could at least pretend that he still found me attractive after he saw them. "Thank you. I appreciate it." Then I closed the bathroom door in his face.

I wasted some time staring at my own eyes in the mirror. What I planned was dangerous—I knew that. But I had to find out the truth of it, no matter what. I couldn't live with the threat of the usual Homelander appearing without warning in the bedroom while I was being his domme. With a sigh, I pulled off my wig and set it on the granite countertop, then began undressing. He hadn't said anything about no underwear this time, but I decided to dispense with it anyway. I slid on the gray slacks and buttoned the pale zebra-print blouse up to my throat, then pulled on the gray blazer. I'd always found the outfit unattractive, what I was sure Homelander had had in mind when he sent me the e-mail about my ugly clothes, although maybe the blouse could be attractive with a different skirt or pair of slacks, if I didn't button it up all the way.

Had he taken into account that wearing this outfit might awaken bad memories of the deafening of Blindspot for me, or had he dismissed it, the way I imagined the usual Homelander would? If it did anything, it made me aware that I could not count on John remaining with me during a scene. After all, that day he had seemed like John, friendly and charming and approachable, until the instant when he turned on a dime and attacked Blindspot. How was any trust possible when I'd seen this kind of behavior from him? But it wasn't an immediate concern; after our scene, when we were eating lunch, relaxed and comfortable, then I should be on guard. Slipping on the yellow Ferragamo pumps I'd worn that day and checking the blazer pocket to make sure the handcuffs and key were still there and stumbling across a ballpoint pen I'd forgotten about, I stepped over to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

Even in these clothes, I still could manifest the Mistress persona, and when I emerged I found Homelander naked and waiting for me, the way I'd specified he should be at our last scene. I let a smile appear and said, "Very good, John. You remembered what I wanted. It's a promising sign for the future."

"Thank you, mistress," he said.

I reached out and wrapped my hand around his wrist. "Come along." He did, and I led him to the glass-walled rainshower stall. "Wait here," I told him as I went back and locked the bathroom door.

"You don't need to do that. No one's going to disturb us. Mistress."

I gave him what might pass for a dark, intimidating glare. "It's not to keep people out, John. It's to show you that you must stay in here because you've been a bad boy and you must be punished."

That got a surprised look out of him. "How? How have I been…bad, mistress?"

"You can ask that?" I reached around him to open the glass door to the shower. "You know perfectly well what you did. Step inside."

At least he did that without question, although he still looked surprised. I entered the shower stall right behind him, using my body to press him face-first against the wall. "You frightened your mistress, John. You shouted at her, you said bad things about her, you hurt someone in front of her, and you threatened her. Implicitly, not with words," I hurried on when I saw him open his mouth to protest the last part. "That was bad behavior on your part." My hand ran over his stomach and teased his half-hard cock. "You have to prove to me that I can trust you to be my good boy. Do you think you can do that?" His body tensed with the feel of my hand on him and I let my tongue trail up his spine, to the nape of his neck. "Can you be my good boy, John? The good boy I know will never hurt me or make me afraid." I let my hand move up and down on his cock.

He had to swallow before he could say, "Yes, mistress, I'll be your good boy. I don't ever want to hurt you. Or make you afraid of me." I believed him, since he'd been the one to suggest me dominating him so I'd stop being scared of him.

"I'm glad. Turn around now." He did and I produced the handcuffs from my jacket pocket. "Put your hands together behind you." I intended to cuff him to the water pipe leading to the shower head above us. Homelander obeyed and I fastened the steel bracelets around his wrists, the chain between them catching on the other side of the pipe. I retrieved the key from my blazer pocket and put it in his right hand, closing his fingers around it. He could rip free of the cuffs whenever he wanted, but I didn't want to take a chance on him panicking, or the usual Homelander making an appearance.

Once he was restrained, I took a step backward and admired him. "It always surprises me how beautiful you are naked. Somehow I must forget it, although I can't see how that's possible."

"Thank you, mistress." His cock jutted up, hard and ready, and I let my fingers trail over it, smiling when his eyes half-closed and his hips arched forward.

I reached over and turned on the water. It blasted at both of us from the showerhead directly above, plastering his hair to his skull and running in rivulets over his skin, and soaking my clothes until they felt like they weighed fifty pounds. It made me wish I'd worn something other than a suit that day we met Blindspot. I didn't think I could be comfortable in this outfit, at least with the blazer on, so I took off the dripping blazer and dropped it to the shower floor. Homelander's eyes widened because I wasn't wearing a bra and the water from the shower turned the zebra-print blouse nearly transparent. My nipples stiffened under his gaze and he licked his lips.

His bar of soap rested in its dish and I retrieved it, lathering up my hands. His chest moved up and down more rapidly than it would under normal circumstances, and he jerked when my hands came down on his neck. "Relax," I murmured. "I'm just washing away everything that happened that's bad. After I'm done, we'll both be clean of it." He sighed and let his head fall back as I moved my soapy hands over his skin. The masculine scent of leather and amber and spice filled the shower and I held back a shiver of pleasure. "I really like this soap."

"Thank you, mistress. I thought you might."

That made me wonder if he watched me through the door while I was changing in his bathroom. If so, he'd already seen my scars, but I couldn't prove he'd done it and he'd never admit it, so I let it go. Much more fun to run my hands over his chest and arms and back and ass, let them glide over him with the layer of lather on them, touch him as much as I wanted to. A little groan escaped him as my fingers brushed his cock. I didn't linger, though, sinking to my knees to run my hands over his thighs, his calves, and then I applied myself to his feet. "Your skin is perfect," I told him. "I can't find a single scar."

"I can't scar, mistress. The amount of force needed to do that isn't—well, it won't happen."

Not physically, I added mentally. "That's good to know, John. I don't want anything to hurt you. I care about you a lot." Why the hell had I said that?

John seemed as surprised as I was at that. "I care about you too, mistress." And I believed that John might, but Homelander was a different story. I couldn't imagine him letting me restrain him, as much as I could, or doing what I wanted just because I wanted it.

I gulped. "Let's get you clean." I moved him as far forward as the cuffs would allow and the water from the rainshower rinsed off the lather. I raked the wet hair back from his face and kissed him, wrapped my arms around his neck, needing the feel of his mouth as the scent of his soap made me dizzy. I heard the handcuffs rattle as he tried to raise his arms, reminding him of what we were doing here, and the metal jangling subsided. I lifted my mouth from his long enough to say, "You're such a good boy, John. You're my good boy. You make me so happy."

"Please. Please suck me off, mistress."

I held my hands up and let the water rinse the soap off my hands, then slid them down his chest and grasped his cock firmly. "Such a nice, polite boy," I murmured before I knelt and took him into my mouth. John groaned with the sensation and his hips bucked forward. Warmth rushed through my veins as I let my tongue swirl around his cock—oh, he was so hard—and ran my hands over his thighs. The muscles stood out under my touch, tense, and I knew he was aching for the release I would give him. My excitement rose with his every shudder, every uncontrolled movement that let me know he was enraptured by the experience. I wished I could get rid of the fear that the usual Homelander would appear unexpectedly, and God knew what he would do if that happened.

"I want to touch you, mistress. I want to suck your tits."

I let his cock slide out of my mouth and he whimpered. "We'll get there, John. Don't you want me to make you come, shoot down my throat and have me swallow every drop?"

"Yes. Yes, mistress."

"Then don't interrupt me again. Every time you interrupt me, you put off that wonderful orgasm I'm going to give you. You don't want to do that, do you?"

"No, mistress." He was gasping now, his eyes closed against the water from the showerhead. "I want you to make me come more than anything."

"I know. I was going to make you wait for it longer, but I think you're suffering, and I don't want to make you suffer. You've been such a good boy I think you deserve to go off hard."

"Thank—thank you, mistress." And then he stopped talking as I took his cock into my mouth again and began to suck and lick and his hips began to move rhythmically. I was barely aware of the water pounding me from above, the clammy touch of my slacks and blouse, and my Ferragamo pumps were ruined but I didn't give much of a shit. My whole body was throbbing by now, and I thought what I'd decided on for Thursday was the absolute right thing.

It took another few minutes of sucking and licking and teasing before he lost control of himself and cried out as he shot his hot come down my throat and I swallowed desperately, my nails digging into his ass as I sucked him dry. Both of us were gasping and shaking at the end, and Homelander unlocked his cuffs to pick me up. "I still want to suck your tits, mistress."

I giggled a little. "You have my permission." Almost before I'd finished speaking, he ripped my blouse to shreds and bent his head to my breasts, swallowing up one of my nipples, and teased it with his tongue. "You're so good at this, John. I love it when you suckle me. It makes me feel so good."

He made a noise that sent a shiver through me, and I gave myself up to the sensations, winding my fingers into his wet hair as he devoted himself to suckling my breasts. I didn't even know how long it took for him to raise his head and say, "You've shivering. I think we should get you dried off and into some dry clothes."

"It is a little cold in the shower," I admitted, and let him dry me with the fluffy towels, his hands moving slowly over me and the tingling returning. He dried himself off hastily, and I made a rebuking sound before I took the towel out of his hands and massaged him gently, watching his face until his eyes closed in enjoyment. "I'll get dressed, and we'll go downstairs for lunch."

When we went downstairs and divided the Joe's Shanghai he'd ordered, I was so warm and relaxed that I didn't want to disturb the feeling with the question I had, but I nerved myself up. I had to know, and now was the best chance I'd ever have to ask without fearing that he'd hurt me physically for it. For about five minutes we sat at the table in his kitchen and ate in silence. "Homelander?"

"Hmmm?" His mouth was full and he glanced up at me.

Okay, here goes…"Are you the only one there?"

He chewed, swallowed, then gave me his full attention. "What do you mean?"

My heart rate bumped up as I tapped my index finger against my temple. "Are you the only one in there?"

That got his attention. He set down his glass of milk and leaned back in his chair. "Are you asking me if I have a split personality?"

"Nowadays they call it Dissociative Identity Disorder, but that's the idea." He didn't say anything. "I mean, I've read the files. I know how they tortured you for years when you were young. Those are the kind of conditions where DID would be expected to develop as a coping mechanism. A child can't handle suffering like that. Really, a grown man couldn't. Soldier Boy couldn't, and they didn't do half the things to him that were done to you. You handled your situation much better than he did his own." I stopped speaking abruptly, aware that I was rambling.

"What makes you think I have that?" His expression didn't reveal anything, but I took hope from the fact that he hadn't exploded yet, hadn't shouted or tried to hurt me.

"There was an occasion where I think you had missing time, and your personality undergoes some pretty rapid changes."

"Maybe I'm just mercurial. Moody. And maybe this thing you think is missing time is something I didn't think was important enough to remember."

"That last part isn't true. It was about Ryan."

Homelander was perfectly still. "You're right. I would remember everything about Ryan."

"So…?" He could just deny it, even if it were true, and I'd be none the wiser. But I didn't see any other option except to try to find out.

He sighed, then smiled. "You're smart, Ashley. None of the scientists even came close to figuring things out. Not even Stan Edgar, and he was the sharpest person here. He may have suspected, but since he couldn't prove anything he dismissed it. Yeah, there is someone else in my head."

"Do you…what's his name? If it's a man." Success left me scrambling for questions. Why hadn't I written down questions to ask in case he told me the truth?

"Homelander. He is a man. He used to have another name, but when Vought named us Homelander he took that one."

"I've met him, right?"

He laughed. "On multiple occasions. The first time you were really introduced to him was in the training room when we saw Blindspot."

That made sense. I'd never been afraid of Homelander before then. "So he was the one who deafened Blindspot?" He nodded. "Why did he choose that moment to…appear?"

For a moment his eyes dropped. "I…was feeling threatened. He tends to come out when I feel threatened, when I can't cope with something."

Okay, so that sounded like the one with me now was the core personality, and Homelander was the alter personality who'd been created to handle the pain and abuse. "What about Blindspot was threatening? If you want to tell me."

"You…were really enthusiastic about him. You made it sound like you thought he would be better for the team than I am. That I wasn't important."

I reached across the table and rested my hand on his. "I did not mean to come across that way. I thought you'd take it for granted that you were the most important part of the Seven. You're the leader. It wouldn't be the Seven without you. I'm sorry I said something that upset you that much. If this happens again, just tell me you're not happy with what I'm saying or doing and I'll stop."

He turned his hand so mine was in his palm and squeezed it gently. "I will."

Something occurred to me. "If his name is Homelander, what's your name?"

"John."

I burst out laughing. "That's why you wanted me to call you John during our scenes! Not because I'd be more comfortable without the Homelander baggage, but because it's your name!"

He grinned back at me. "Come on, what man wants a woman calling him by another man's name when they're…engaged in fuck-related activity?"

Homelander—no, John—seemed a lot freer now that I'd figured out his secret. "Is it okay that I know this now?"

"It's fine. I don't think you're going to tell anyone, are you?"

I shook my head. "I don't tell anybody anything about you."

"I know. That's one of the things I like about you." John began rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb. It sent a jolt of pleasure through me. "What else do you want to know?"

"Uh—" It was hard to think when he was touching me. "It's—I understand it's unusual for the core personality to know about an alter. Can you communicate with Homelander?"

"Under certain circumstances." He took a sip of milk. "It's clearest in mirrors. He can talk to me in my head, though. I'm not sure if he hears me the same way when he's in charge."

"Can you tell me more about him?"

"He enjoys hurting people. He liked what he did to Blindspot and he really enjoyed putting Maeve's eye out during the fight with Soldier Boy."

"Do you know why?"

"I told you about Blindspot already. He liked hurting Maeve because she lied. She said she loved us and she lied about that, about her sexuality, about every goddamned thing that she could have lied about, and then she left us. And she didn't care that Ryan could have been killed during the fight. Maybe he could have swallowed the lies—she was very, very beautiful and a powerful supe—but for her not to care about Ryan, for her to fucking endanger him—" The red of his laser vision began glowing.

Was Homelander about to take over? What would he do to me now that I knew about him? John didn't mind, but I couldn't assume Homelander would share his opinion. "She's gone, John. She doesn't matter anymore. Ryan is fine and happy and well-cared-for. There's nothing she can do to hurt him now."

The red slowly drained from his eyes. "Yes, he has you. You'll protect him if I need you to. If I can't be there."

"You know I'd do anything for Ryan. You don't have to worry about that. Ever."

John gave me one of his genuine smiles, not the shark smile that Homelander used. "I don't worry about it now that we're closer. Does this change anything for you?"

That surprised me, although it shouldn't have. "It makes me feel better that I know what's going on. I don't like it when things happen and I don't understand why."

"Do you…still want to do the scenes?"

I gave him a smile and leaned across the table to kiss him. "Of course I do. I think we're both having fun with them, right?"

"Right."

Something else occurred to me. "What's Homelander's opinion of our scenes?"

John thought about it. "I'm not sure he knows."

"So if you're in charge things can happen that he doesn't remember, the same way as when he's in charge and you can't remember?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know how likely he is to hurt me?"

That got his attention. "I won't let him hurt you, Ashley. You're too important to me."

But I wondered if Homelander would give him the option.