Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(43)

He sensed Doyle close by from the scent of his deodorant, but wasn’t sure where, exactly.

Then he heard the door open and close and sensed someone had left.

When the strong arm encircled his shoulders and helped him sit up, he realized it was Doyle.

“Good boy,” he hoarsely said. He let Mevi lean on him and helped him stagger over to the couch and got him settled, his head in Doyle’s lap as he processed and floated and let his emotions begin to settle as he softly cried.

This time, he cried because he wished it’d been Doyle the entire time, not Tilly.

Now he knew what he wanted.

Who he wanted.

And he suspected if he admitted it, he might lose Doyle forever.

But…honesty was demanded.

And he was tired of lying about who and what he was.

Later, after saying good-night to Tilly and heading back, Mevi stood in the bathroom and examined his marks. When he turned, he gripped the edges of the counter and met his own gaze in the mirror.

He couldn’t even remember what the silver hair looked like on him now unless he looked at a picture.

This was who he was.

Who he’d always been.

“I’m gay,” he whispered to his reflection. “I’m submissive.”

Immediately, he felt like his soul adjusted one cog sideways and slid perfectly into place. Like his life-long struggles had just…ended.

Like that.

He took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. “I’m gay, and I’m submissive.”

The world didn’t end.

Lightning didn’t strike him.

He let go of the counter and stood with his spine straight, looking dead-on into the mirror. “I’m a gay man, and I’m submissive. My name is Malcolm Maynard, and I’m a gay, male submissive.”

He felt…lighter inside.

Freer.

And he’d never go back to the way things were.

Now, he just needed to figure out how to move forward.





Chapter Fifteen


When Doyle awoke the next morning, he smelled coffee brewing, and…

Bacon?

After using the bathroom, he grabbed a tester kit and found Mevi, dressed only in shorts and working at the stove.

“Good morning. I didn’t have anything to drink yet.” He walked over, holding his hand out.

Doyle handed him the tester. “What time is it?”

“Seven.” He smiled. “Your coffee is on the counter. I heard you up. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Thanks.”

Thinking maybe he’d just dropped into a wormhole, he got his mug and sipped it while waiting for Mevi’s results.

Negative.

Of course.

Now Mevi got his own coffee. “How many eggs, and how do you want them?”

“Um…three. Scrambled, please.”

“Cheese?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” He decided to take a seat at the counter and watch this play out.

He couldn’t peg what was different about Mevi this morning, but…

He liked it.

And he couldn’t exactly pin down why.

They talked while Mevi cooked. Sure, Mevi was fine following the previous evening. He shiny-squirreled between several different topics, including revisiting a few he hadn’t explored thoroughly about his father and mother.

Doyle decided to hang on for the ride and let him talk.

By the time they’d finished eating—and Mevi had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen while Doyle sat there—Doyle was beginning to buy the “wormhole” theory.

As in he’d been dropped into one.

Mevi headed downstairs to work while Doyle sat there trying to sort things out.

The only difference had been what Tilly had done last night, taking things a bit farther than before. Nothing he’d felt like interceding in, either.

It was almost like…

Doyle thought about it.

It almost seemed like a circuit had connected in Mevi’s brain.

Maybe it had.

Like anything else, he’d have to wait and see. Meanwhile, he was in search of a restaurant to take Mevi for his birthday. He wanted to check an old favorite down on Manasota Key, with a view of the beach, to make sure it was still there. And then take him for a sunset walk.

Doyle wanted this birthday to be a nice one for the man, one Mevi could remember in positive ways.

Meanwhile, he was trying to decide what to get him for his birthday. He wanted the guy to have at least one present to open. He could have it shipped there. Already, he’d ordered him a guitar stand and stand for his sheet music. But those were work things.

He wanted something fun for the guy, or at least meaningful.

I’ll have to think on it.





If Mevi suspected Doyle had something up his sleeve, he never let on. But over the next week, he also continued the…well, if Doyle had to label it, he’d call it submissive behavior.

Like a perfect submissive. Mevi insisted on doing chores, and when Doyle started pressing him harder during their talks, especially about recovery issues, Mevi didn’t balk even if he found the talks difficult. Doyle found himself assuming a more overtly Dominant role with him, if not a kinky one. Things like making him stand and wait for a minute to get and take his morning tests.