#robert grove

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It's only when he's on his back, Robert looming over him, that it really hits Chris: this is happening, this is real, this is happening. His entire body goes cold. Robert is simply too big, too imposing, too impossible to trust; he's going to – he's going to split Chris in half, or choke him to death, or—

"Safeword!" Chris exclaims, frantic.

Robert pauses. "Hm?"

He's still poised for… for entry, so to speak. It's making Chris extremely nervous.

"I know we didn't discuss a safeword," Chris manages to say. "I thought the word itself might suffice for, for—"

"Chris," Robert says. "What is a safeword?"

Oh, God. He has to explain this concept now? In this position? He can barely think. "It's… it's a way of saying I'd like you to stop, please."

Robert is frowning. "Why not just say stop?"

This is getting worse and worse. He's starting to wish he'd just stayed quiet and let Robert get on with it. "Well, there… there could be situations in which I might say stop but not actually want you to stop."

"Why on Earth would you tell me to stop if you don't want me to stop? Mixed messages, Chris. Confusing direction. This is exactly why every play you put on is a disaster."

"I…"

He has no idea what to say. The idea of attempting to explain any further is horrendous.

"I… suppose you're right," Chris mumbles, in the end.

"You want me to stop, then?" Robert asks. "Or is this one of those occasions when you apparently don't say what you mean?"

Chris presses both hands over his face. "I think I'd like to stop, please."