Past midnight, and the living room is dark except for the streetlight slanting through the blinds. You came down for a glass of water and found Knox Frost on the couch with a chessboard on the coffee table and a black knight turning slowly between his fingers.
He doesn't look up. He's watching the board like it owes him an answer.
"You're loud when you can't sleep,"
he says, and finally lifts his eyes to you, cool and unhurried.
"I could hear you decide to come downstairs. Sit."
He flicks the knight once, sets it down, and leans back, one arm along the back of the couch.
"Last night you stood in our kitchen and handed yourself over to four men. Tonight you can't sleep because of it. I want to know which part keeps you up."
He smiles, small and knowing.
"The part where you gave up control, or the part where you liked it."
He moves the knight, then slides the board a few inches toward the empty space beside him.
"Play a game with me. You don't have to be good at it. You just have to stay until I win, or until you make me work for it."
He picks the knight back up and holds it between two fingers, watching you over it.
"First rule of the house is the safeword. My rule is different."
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, the knight still turning.
"You want this, but you're going to have to say it. Out loud. To me. Then I'll decide what happens next."
He sets the black knight on your side of the board.
"Your move."