Captive [MXM]

"Warren..." I began and leaned forward in my seat, "it's not-" I struggled to find the words, "You're not all that bad, I guess. I like it when you're nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you," he narrowed his eyes at me.

I have him a flat look.

"Are you even aware of how frustrating you are sometimes? To the point of tears, Warren," I watched for any reaction. He didn't give one. "Sometimes you get so angry that I really think you're going to hurt me. Sometimes you try to control me so much that I can't help but hate you. And you make things hard all the time."

My voice was soft and pained as I rubbed the side of my arm awkwardly.

"When do I get angry?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"You were literally going to kill my co-worker because I pretended to fantasize about him," I hissed and leaned across the table so I wouldn't have to say it too loud. "Maybe we could have worked it out like normal fucking adults if you weren't such a control freak."

"So there's no hope for this. So I could never have you back the way I did five years ago," Warren swallowed and clenched his jaw.

"I-" I leaned back in my chair and stared down at my lap. My immediate reaction was a hard No but when I thought about it- I had loved Warren. He had been good with me. I'd tried the whole fix the broken man and it hadn't worked. Maybe if he could ever come to terms with himself and his own faults then I believed we could do it again. But right now? Absolutely not. "No, I still think that there could be hope. Just not right now."

He dropped into a sullen silence and folded his arms across his broad chest, "it's been three since it was over. Hasn't that been long enough?"

"Warren, the time isn't a factor. It's the things you need to address about yourself," I whispered and pursed my lips, "did you ever think about why you can't stand not knowing where I am? Or why you need everything in a neat little row to the point of hurting other people to get that control?"

He scowled and looked at the table, "no. I don't have time to think about those things. I have more important priorities than my personal problems.

I resisted the urge to rip out my hair, "if you ever want us to have a chance again then you have to face it because I tried to fix you and that obviously didn't work out."

Warren elapsed into another charged silence and screwed his mouth shut. Apparently the conversation was over.

As if on cue, a tall and slender man with snow white hair and warm brown eyes emerged from the kitchen in an apron. He spotted our table and strolled over.

"Warren Clark," he said slowly and grinned, "where have you been?"

Warren looked up at him and let his face sink back into a mask.

"Hello, Sage," he remarked slowly.

"I'm serious, man. The club has been missing you! You haven't brought a sub around in years," he waved his hands emphatically and the smile never left his face.

"I don't need to. Paige isn't a club kind of guy," Warren answered and looked at me. Sage followed his gaze and appeared to notice me for the first time.

"Holy shit, I didn't even know you were there! I am so sorry, hon," he said with wide eyes. I looked at Warren. Should I reply or not? Warren nodded slowly and I put my hand out to Sage.

"I'm Paige," I whispered shyly. He shook my hand. I was surprised at the strong grip that greeted me.

"Aw, our names rhyme," he smiled with a twinkle in his brown eyes. Then he looked at Warren, "that's so cute, you already trained him? He's so polite."

If I didn't know exactly what they were talking about then I would've been very confused. However, as well as Warren knew what I liked, I knew what he liked as well. In the first few months of our previous relationship he'd laid down some rules that I later realized were typical of a dominant/submissive relationship.

I only figured it out after doing an extensive amount of research. At this point I could behave flawlessly as a submissive if I really wanted to- at least based on the book. We'd had sex before (he was the only person I'd ever had sex with, actually) and he'd immersed me in the lifestyle of which I had long since abandoned.

I wasn't his submissive anymore and put me on edge a little bit that Warren was letting this man assume that. I didn't want him to tell people that we were in that sort of relationship. It was just... wrong... and weird. I only performed to make Warren happy when it was necessary.

"Okay, Sage. You can let go of his hand now," Warren said and arched a brow at the man. Sage looked startled for a moment.

"Oh! Yes, I forgot," he laughed and looked back at him, "you get jealous so easily."

"Are you here to chat or take our order?" Warren asked bluntly. Sage feigned offense.

"I am the owner of this fine establishment. To think I would stoop to the lowly-"

"Sage."

"Yeah, yeah. What do you want?" He asked and waved his hand. Warren told him the name of some oddly specific wine and he walked back to the kitchen.

I bit the inside of my cheek and crossed my arms over my chest. I was still a bit peeved about the whole thing.

"I need to pee," I said but didn't look him in the eye. He studied me for a minute.

"Let's go, then," he sighed and stood with me. I wasn't surprised. He rarely let me out of his sight.

I had hoped that it was a multiple urinal and stall bathroom but to my dismay it was only for one person. No hiding behind a locked door and doing breathing exercises so I wouldn't ruin the evening and make him mad at me.

Besides, I actually did have to pee. I hadn't thought of it until we were inside.

I really didn't want him to watch me pee.

I placed my hands on the rim of the porcelain sink and stared down at the drain as I grit my teeth.

"Why did you want to come in here?" Warren inquired and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

I squeezed the sink tightly.

"I'm not your submissive, Warren," I said and tried to keep my voice steady, "you are not my dominant. I don't like that sort of thing anymore. It's gross and weird and wrong and normal people don't like that."

I jerked in surprise when he placed a hand between my shoulder blades.

"Do you remember the night we met, Paige?"

I was instantly thrown back to that night nearly five years ago.