Classes weren't due to start until mid-January after Winter Break classes were over. As the week toiled by, anxiety clawed at Micah's chest.

The New Year's party was soon, and he still didn't have his badge. Fuck, he thought, because he'd hoped to attend an event with Kennedy.

Judging by his calendar and the timeline she had given him, the crew was bound to be back from the Bahamas by now. His pride kept him from contacting her as he debated his options.

The Full Suspension event was still upcoming and, though Benny had expressed interest in it, Micah highly doubted Hunter would allow him to actually attend.

If Benny's there, then I guess it is proof that Hunter's changed, Micah's subconscious reasoned. He hated how this idea sparked hoped as he solidified his plans to attend.

And so, that Thursday before work was due to begin again, Micah fished out the one outfit Kennedy had provided that was no doubt dedicated to his BDSM club attire.

After having spent weeks out of a suitcase, Micah was forced to hunt down Presley's ironing board to crisp up the black button-up. It was simple, nothing nefarious, but underneath Micah buckled on a leather harness fully equipped with silver hoops and a tag at the choker collar. He turned over the tag.

It had Kennedy's name engraved on it.

Ridiculous, he thought, scoffing, but kept it on.

He tucked the button-up into a pair of leather pants. All down the side seams were studded buckles wrapped around metal hoops. The look was made complete by a pair of high-top combat boots he wished he'd spent more time breaking in.

Micah arrived at the function looking casual but feeling exposed. Even fully-dressed, the harness around his torso and the collar on his neck felt downright sinful to be wearing on the streets. Heat licked up the back of his neck and to his ears as the bouncer let him through and his entry fee was paid on behalf of Kennedy's card being on file.

And there it was: his badge of honor, being slid across the entry desk.

"Have fun," the attendant said, smiling around dark purple lipstick.

Have fun -Alistair.

Micah felt dizzy.

Inside, Micah followed the black-lit trail of arrows down a hall of closed curtains. Other people were already in attendance and, it seemed, Micah was late. He was grateful to have avoided smalltalk, though.

At the center of the room was a stage equipped with pulley systems in the rafters. A woman in what appeared to be a one-piece bathing suit was, indeed, preparing to be suspended by shibari similar to what Micah had admired once on Alistair.

His eyes were instantly on the crowd, searching. He didn't see Kennedy anywhere, nor Alistair.

The man knotting her back had to be a six-foot bodybuilder. The demonstration was quiet all except for soft music playing on the speakers. Slowly, Micah lowered himself to an open seat near the back.

Soon, the music was climbing to the climax. The woman, bound on her stomach on the floor, began to rise. Her ankles were tied up near the carabiners, arms fastened behind her back. She was bound like a star, knees and elbows bent behind her, upside down as the pulley system lifted her skyward.

The man gave her a gentle spin as the music slowed, and the audience was encouraged to clap. Micah fidgeted with his newly acquired badge and waited.

His heart stopped with the man gave a simple, "Thank you. Now is the time you can take a closer look."

I recognize that voice, he swore, and scrambled for his phone to double check.

He barely had the audio memo open when an attendant leant down beside him and whispered, "No phones, please."

"Sorry, I'm just—"

"No phones," she whispered, a finger to her lips. "I don't want to have to confiscate it."

He lowered his phone, embarrassment coloring his ears. As he tucked it away, his eyes followed the man as people were gradually flocking to the stage, keeping at a distance. A few audience members had gotten on stage to speak with the presenter, asking questions.

Micah needed to get up there.

He pushed to his feet, only to realize that now wasn't the time. The man was part of the suspension show—he couldn't just... ask the man about who he was and how he met Alistair. It was obvious to Micah now that Alistair had found the guy here, at the club, and managed to be fucked by him three different ways all while Micah taunted him over text and voice memos.

Micah returned to his seat, sheepish and uncharacteristically shy.

The show went on. He was on the edge of his seat, watching in a daze as the next contestant was bound to another, the two fused by a latticework of ropes. He wished he'd taken a closer look at the show notes—maybe he'd know the man's name then.

He wouldn't know until the end, long after the contestants were taken down from the air after midnight. The man was occupied for well over an hour after, chatting with audience members that had stuck around to ask questions.

There were other shibari experts in attendance, taking questions, demonstrating knots and sending club members into tizzies having their wrists practiced on.

Micah couldn't move, not until he was certain to get the first presenter's attention.

Once there was a clearing, Micah was on his feet and at the side-stage where the presenter was unscrewing a bottle of water.

"Hi," Micah said, stupidly. The man stared at him. He pointed to himself. "Micah."

A thrill shot through him at the recognition that flashed across the man's eyes. He was greeted by a charming smile. "Micah, yes," he said. He shook Micah's hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You too," Micah said. After a second of silence, he admitted, "I don't really know what I meant to do. Coming up here to talk to you. I just recognized your voice and I don't even know your name."

"Oh, shit, right." He closed the water bottle, cleared his throat, and said, "Noah. I'm a friend of Alistair's. We met in Tucson—I actually still live there."

"A-Ah," Micah said. "What are you doing here, then?"

"Are you going to the New Year's party by any chance?" When Micah nodded, Noah beamed. "I'll be there too! I'm part of one of the exhibitions. Alistair's letting me crash at his place—Cool guy. Glad you two met."

Alistair's out of town and he's letting this guy housesit?! All Micah could think was how feasible it was for this man to get laid every fucking day in Alistair's bed. Did he know the rules? Did he know Alistair would be bound to have a meltdown if he knew?

"Yeah, super cool."

"Totally. Hey, we should go out for drinks after this if you're up for it."

Micah wanted desperately to know how respectful Noah was of Alistair's place. He was too offended to have not been Alistair's preferred house-sitter option. "Sure, I'd love to."

Noah dismissed himself to get ready, and so Micah waited awkwardly near the depleted concessions bar wishing it sold alcohol. He could seriously go for a shot right now, though his head was already spinning.

It took a minute for him to realize what he was doing. I can't believe I met one of Alistair's regulars, he thought, heart fluttering painfully in his chest. He clenched his fist over it to calm it down.

If they met in Toucan, how many times had they fucked? Micah needed to find out, lest he plead insanity.

Noah returned to the showroom in distressed jeans and a low-collared tank top that showed off his impressive pecs and arms. He shrugged a leather jacket over his bulky shoulders and scanned the room for Micah. He snapped his fingers, pointed at Micah, and jerked his thumbs over his shoulders. This way.

Micah followed after him down the hall and out the back door of the club where a handful of smokers were hanging back. They passed through the haze of their smoke on the way to the sidewalk.

"I'm genuinely stoked that we met like this," Noah said, "Alistair doesn't tell me shit about his personal life. Cucking is, like, the last thing I expected out of him."

"Seriously?" Micah considered the implications. "Well, I don't know that much about his personal life, either."

"Yeah, but when have you ever known him to involve a third party?"

"I mean, he's seeing a swinger couple."

"Yeah, emphasis on couple. Swingers rarely swing independently and if they do, they're practicing poly or they're being sus as fuck. That shit's different," Noah said.

Micah was alive. He felt it in his veins that he wanted to close every bar in New York with this random Toucan man named Noah.

Micah could barely contain an amused smile, eyebrows to his hairline.

At the intersection, Noah crossed his arms and said, "I don't know where the fuck I'm going. Have any recommendations, or should we just walk until we find a place?"

"I have a place in mind," Micah confessed, and steered Noah in the direction of a speakeasy partway between the club and West Village.

On the subway over, they stood on either side of a metal pole. Noah latched a hand onto the bar overhead and properly studied Micah. Micah properly studied him back.

I've seen his dick before and he's never seen mine. This idea gave Micah a thrill.

"Are you a dom or something?"

Micah flustered. It was late enough that the train was mostly empty, but not empty enough. "No. I'm only attending these events to get into the New Year's party."

"Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

Noah shrugged. He hugged the post nearest him as the subway careened, screeching, around a corner. He waited until the wheels were done screaming. "It just seemed like you two had a dynamic going. I'm worried I overstepped a line with you... With him seeing other people. And then involving you."

Micah shook his head, eyes wide. "No, not at all. We aren't—I mean, we're casual. We aren't together."

"So your whole dynamic is cuckolding?"

Micah was beet red. A nearby stranger was staring at him. "N-No. I mean, he can see whoever he wants."

Noah's head hung. Micah flinched. He'd said something wrong.

"Goddammit," Noah swore.

"Seriously, it's fine."

The train came to a stop, and Micah was quick to flee with Noah trailing after. And then there, just over the dotted yellow strip, Noah threw his head back and groaned in defeat.

"I'm a horrible person!" he screamed.

Micah scrambled to shut him up. "You aren't—!"

"How could Alistair do this to me—!"

"N-Noah—!"

Micah grabbed the six-foot beast of a man by the forearm and dragged him to the stairs. All the while, Noah moaned like he'd been shot.

Geez, Micah thought as he rushed them to the nearest hospital (the speakeasy), He's more dramatic than Benny—!

At the laundromat, Micah took him to the washer at the back that, when pulled, opened into a door. This succeeded in temporarily appeasing whatever meltdown Noah was having.

Thoroughly delighted, Noah entered the tunnel of neon pink lights and said, "Wow! This place is amazing!" at the top of his lungs. Micah shushed him.

Through a beaded curtain, they arrived at the venue. The bar was bright and flowery, pink and positively the opposite of their current aesthetic. Just as Micah suspected, they looked outlandish in the mirrors lining the walls.

Surrounded by cupcake sprinkles and tinsel lights, they found a seat. Micah promptly ordered them specialty drinks from the waitress as Noah was too busy being dazzled by the city.

"What did Alistair do to you, exactly?" Micah said, calmer now that he knew Noah was just being overly dramatic for show.

The man slapped his hands over his face. It took a second for him to speak, and when he did, he grabbed Micah's forearm with both his hands. "I deeply apologize for encouraging Alistair to cheat. I didn't realize you two were an item, and that you weren't aware of my involvement beforehand."

Micah laughed. "What?"

"He said you'd find it hot, but I should have done my due diligence. And for that, I sincerely apologize."

"I-I reiterate—What." Micah didn't think anything he said had alluded to a closed and committed relationship. "What gives you this impression?"

"Anyone who says, 'He can see whoever he wants' the way you said it is under duress and doesn't actually mean it."

Micah went red. Truly, Alistair was right: Micah did find it hot. He blamed Noah's reaction on Micah's resting bitch face and tone-dead attitude.

"I do find it hot," Micah corrected. "And I seriously meant it. Alistair and I are not in a relationship."

Noah squinted at him, suspicious. He leant away, crossed his arms, and donned the appearance of a bouncer assessing just how drunk Micah truly was. "Say it again."

"Say what again."

"That you don't care who he sees."

Micah sighed, shoulders sinking. He put his hands out in surrender. "I don't care who he sees."

"No, I think the other phrase sounded more defensive. Say, 'He can see whoever he wants.'"

"I don't know how else to convince you that I'm not jealous," Micah confessed, laughing. The drinks were delivered. "Honestly, I've been meaning to ask him in person if we could have a threesome, but I didn't realize he wasn't in town."

"'We'?" Noah repeated, and then with a gasp, pointed to himself. "Me? You, me, and him? That sounds excellent!"

It was the most giddy Micah had felt since Benny. He nearly giggled. "You think so?"

"Absolutely! I'd love to spank both of you."

Micah sputtered around his straw. He coughed, shaking his head. "Wait, wait, I don't get spanked."

"Alistair said you're his most recent top. So you top him, I top you?"

Micah was starting to feel he'd gotten ahead of himself and that this entire conversation could have been avoided had he just asked Alistair first. "N-No! I only top."

Noah's brow furrowed, lips pursed. He took a sip of his drink and his attitude recovered at once. "Oh, wow, this is delightful. Can we each get two more?"

"T-Two?" I'm pretty sure every liquor on the shelf is in there!

Noah put a hand up to catch the waitress' attention. He held up the number two and pointed to their drinks. Micah stared at the man in mild horror. What have I gotten myself into?!