what if after that thing with the shirt bill goes through dom drop and tiger has to comfort HIM
Bill getting a dom drop is such a forever mood, and my heart breaks for the big gentle bean every time I think about it.
Because here’s the thing, right. Emotionally, tiger tends to be the one put through the wringer. Bill marvels at her strength, at her resilience, every damn day. The stuff she lets him do to her, the way she lets him see her, how she’ll let herself be so vulnerable and trusting with him…Bill’s never met a stronger woman in his life (and his mom popped out six kids of his size, so that’s saying something.) He admires it, is astounded by it, respects it tremendously. And usually, with punishment and rough play and whatnot, it really is tiger who has her emotions bouncing all over the place. Bill gets a high off of it, for sure, and he gets intense about it–but it’s still mostly all pleasure for him, with a hefty dose of concentration in making sure she’s okay. But in situations when he’s bouncing between pleasure and concentration, tiger is catapulting between regret and sadness for being bad, pain and absolve for being punished and feeling good again, to pleasure, to gratefulness, to feelings of extreme vulnerability, to comfort, to safety, to worry and back to safety and extreme pleasure again. It’s incredible, to him, what she deals with in this relationship.
So when something like this happens–say, when she thinks he’s going to hurt her or is scared of him–Bill has a pretty big dom drop, but he also tries to hide it. Because he wants tiger to feel those things if she needs to, and he wants her to tell him and be honest with him–and he’s worried that if she sees the impact it has on him, then she’ll pull back. If she sees that being honest and showing him she’s scared is enough to send him spiralling a few days later, then she’ll hide it. She won’t want to do that to him. And Bill can’t risk it, can’t risk not having her be completely honest with him, because there’s too much at stake. Tiger takes a long of things very personally, blames herself for a lot, and throwing him into a bad headspace would be one of the many things she forces onto her own shoulders when it’s nowhere near her fault.
But something Bill needs to understand too, and it’s difficult for him–but that the tiger he’s dealing with when she shrinks away from his touch, when she won’t let him touch her, when she’s scared of him–that’s not the same girl. It’s rare that it happens, but sometimes her mind gets away on her just enough or her headspace is just bad enough to let awful thoughts like that creep in. Because she’s not in her right mind–she’s nowhere near being in her right mind, so she’s going to feel a whole gamut of emotions that really have absolutely no bearing. Bill needs to grasp that.
So maybe he’s a bit withdrawn, a whole lot quiet. And tiger thinks maybe he’s just in a bit of a bad mood–until he starts hesitating in his touch. That sends off warning bells in her mind–when he would go to reach for her as just a natural reflex, and pull back. For as intuitive as Bill is with her–she knows her Big Dude too, and knows when something is eating away at him. And she gives it some time, but she calls him out on it. She doesn’t know what’s wrong yet–she has a hunch, though–and she wants it to end. So maybe one night when she goes to bed a little early (he’s been creeping in beside her real late at night these days), maybe when he finally comes into the room she sits up, kind of tackles him a little as he lies down and eventually gets his back up against the headboard as she sits in his lap. His hands went for her waist and then stopped, falling to his sides.
“No, nuh uh,” she says, “Don’t do that.”
He doesn’t say anything, but in the soft reflection of the moonlight she can see those big eyes of his just staring up at her warily.
“Put your hands on me, big guy,” she reaches for them and puts them around her waist, “Just like you always do.”
She leans forward, kissing him gently but real solidly.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she says. She doesn’t ask. Asking would have been for a day or two ago.
“No?” she says in mock disbelief, “So you’re just always going to treat me like I’m porcelain now?”
He bites his lip but she reaches forward and gently tugs it free with her thumb.
“Bill,” she tries again and it’s much more soft, more pleading, “Please, bud. You’re not okay. And I need to know why.”
He sighs, his eyes closing briefly, and she strokes over his jaw with her fingers.
“I scared you again,” he whispers, and she stills. “You were scared of me.”
“I wasn’t scared of you,” she says.
“Yes you were.”
“No. Bill, listen closely. I wasn’t scared of you,” she repeats, “I’m never scared of you, because I know you would never hurt me.”
He glances up at her confused.
“Bud, look,” she sighs, “Sometimes in everything that we do, I’m not me. You get my head spinning with everything, and my mind just…taps out. Completely blanks. With pleasure, with pain, with fear, with safety, comfort, anxiety–god knows what. But you….you make me feel so safe that I let it go blank. Do you get that? I let myself just completely stop thinking. Stop worrying. I just let my mind…go.”
His eyes are back on her now, wide and focused.
“Bill, you get me so drunk off of good feelings that my mind shuts down to the very basic levels of function. Basically, all I can think about is survival shit: breathing. Swallowing. That’s it. I’m not processing stuff rationally, I’m not thinking logically, I’m not doing any of that. I’m tapped out. And sometimes when I’m tapped out, when my emotions are on such overdrive, things scare me that I wouldn’t normally be scared of. But it’s just because everything that’s happening is so intense, and I’ve lost the ability to rationalize.”
“You thought I was going to hurt you,” he mumbled and it sounds pitiful, “You thought I was lying, that I would grab you to punish you.”
“I wasn’t thinking. Bill, when I’m vulnerable like that, when I’m…small…like that with you, that’s not me. That’s not me the way I am now. I know, beyond shadow of a doubt, that you would never hurt me. That you would never lie to me, trick me like that just to punish me,” she explains, “But when I’m in a bad headspace–I don’t know anything.”
She pauses to kiss him, slow and soft.
“You did the right thing. You did everything right. And when I started to calm down, what was the first thing I did? Who did I ask for?” she says. He looks down bashfully, biting his lip.
“Hey big guy, you hear me up there?” she flicks his nose softly, “Who did I ask for?”
“Me,” he mumbles, gives her hips a soft squeeze.
“Yeah, you,” she confirms, “And why did I ask for you?”
He’s shy, ever so modest about it, but now is not the time for humility.
“Why did I ask for you, bud?” she says again.
“Because you wanted comfort,” he mumbles, “Safety.”
“And you give me comfort. I feel safe with you. I know I’m safe with you. Say it.”
“You feel safe with me,” he whispers, but she cups his cheeks.
“Nuh uh. The other way.”
“I make you feel safe,” he tries again, and she nods.
“You do. Always, Billy Goat,” she says, “When I’m like that, a mouse would scare me. It has nothing to do with you, bud. I know you would never hurt me. Okay?”
His lips tilt up in a small smile, and he pulls her closer.
“Okay,” he says, and he tucks her under his chin as he kisses her head.
“No more sulking,” she mumbles into his chest, “Or you might get a spanking.”