Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral

Sub in bed, dom in head

Did pillion make me a dom?

how kink and control shapeD
one guy’s idea of love

 

LONDON, 18 December 2025

After seeing the film, our man Alastair realises he might not be the obedient “good boy” sub he always thought, but an emotionally armoured “dom” in disguise – topping from the bottom by keeping romance at a safe distance, and using “situationships” as a barrier. For him, Pillion is less a porn‑adjacent biker fantasy and more a mirror: a revealing story about how kink can feel safer than connection, and how one unexpected moment can dom your entire love life into question.

“As a natural sub I found myself feeling more for Pillion’s dom”

Heavy Feral

Pillion, the new film by Harry Lighton. Image: A24

By ALASTAIR JAMES

Spoiler alert! Pillion, the new “dom-com” from Harry Lighton, turned out (surprisingly) to be a leather-clad love letter to the terrifying kink known as… feelings. On the surface Alexander Skarsgård plays a gruff dom biker who spends the film barking orders and treating alleyways like his personal service station.

 

But there’s a moment right at the end of the film that really touched me. Ray, Skarsgård’s dom biker, finally gives Colin, his sub, what’s basically a “day off” from their dynamic, at the end of which they experience a simple but meaningful moment of intimacy: a kiss. One tender, lips-only kiss that cracks like a whip and leaves Ray more vulnerable and exposed than a fluorescent-lit full-frontal.

Heavy Feral

Image: A24

After an hour and a half of rough sex and knees hitting the pavement, that simple kiss feels like the most shocking thing in the film. 

 

It’s something Ray doesn’t appear to have allowed himself to experience much, if at all. His disappearing afterward makes that clear. It’s a moment that devastates both men; Colin is heartbroken that someone he loves has abandoned him, and Ray is scared and does the only thing that makes sense to him: he runs. Or more accurately, he mounts his bike and speeds off.

So where do I fit into all of this?

Heavy Feral

Find him on Instagram 

Heavy Feral

@mralastairjames

Order Feral Magazine and support queer print

Heavy Feral

I should say upfront: I’m not a 6’4 biker stud built like Skarsgård. But I look alright on a good day, if I do say so myself. I’m not really all that into BDSM either, though I had a nice experience being tied up once, and could be tempted to explore the art further. But as someone who’s been so afraid of showing vulnerability and intimacy for so long, I saw a lot of myself in Ray.

 

I understand his use of BDSM as a method of relationship control. Not just sexually, but emotionally and mentally. It’s a way of enjoying attraction and intimacy while maintaining a safe distance with particular rules and boundaries. You protect yourself. You protect others. Everyone knows their place.

 

My own fear of connection and commitment has meant I’ve approached romantic relationships for years now with a similar strategy. I.e. largely not at all. 

 

Instead, I’ve opted for casual situationships, typically with older men than I, that center around sex but include intellectual and emotional engagement too. The sex is casual; the connection isn’t quite. We share evenings together, not just beds.

 

What I’m talking about is “Friends with benefits”, essentially. Partnered friends, more specifically. I start these relationships with men who are often in happy (open) relationships, looking for, shall I say, an “alternative source of intimacy”. Some I’m closer with than others. The frequency of our meetings depends on various factors like schedules and travel, and so on. What helps to keep emotions in check is that these situationships are mostly with men who are unavailable. They’re not looking for something serious, and nor am I.

Heavy Feral

Pillion has staggered European release dates: UK/Ireland on 28 Nov 2025, Austria 19 Dec 2025, then Sweden 13 Feb 2026, Spain 6 Mar 2026, and Germany 26 Mar 2026, with some other countries still unannounced.

Heavy Feral

Images: A24

Yet, romance is actually something I’ve been tentatively considering for another ride, but the throttle hand still trembles – a topic that’s come up more than once in therapy lately.

 

I was born in 1993 and moved up to secondary school in 2004. Section 28, the Thatcher-era legislation that prevented local authorities from “promoting homosexuality,” meant that queerness wasn’t just uncelebrated but effectively gagged. It was only repealed in England and Wales in 2003. For many of us, our first real education in “gay” often came via schoolyard taunts and accusations, rather than something more meaningful.

 

The bullying I experienced, while far from the worst, led to a wariness of getting too close to people, fearful of revealing too much and being made a pariah. I have remarkably little relationship experience at 32, mostly because I spent years feeling a need to protect myself. 

 

Am I unlovable? Will people leave if they see the real me? These are the thoughts that circle in my mind whenever butterflies threaten to appear. Before they have the chance to leave, the helmet’s already on and the engine’s idling. I cut things off, turn tail, and run.

Heavy Feral

When feelings develop, Alastair only has one thing on his mind.

Skarsgård is 49, born in 1976, and I imagine in the film Ray is around the same age. That would mean he grew up through the AIDS crisis and the rampant homophobia of the 1980s and 90s. Both would understandably make someone want to control intimacy as a form of self-protection. It’s the kind of formative trauma Russell Tovey has described so vividly, along with its lasting impact.

 

With the added perspective of being a 1990s baby who’s probably had a bit more access to therapy, discourse, and emotional vocabulary than Ray, I’ve been deconstructing the barriers I spent years erecting, even if some old scars remain. I’m still learning to trust people. Still learning to let myself feel the full range of intimacy and connection. It’s a constant process.

 

I’d hazard a guess that more men of my generation have done the same than people in older generations, people like Ray. Though I’m sure there are plenty of men Ray’s age who live happily with zero hang-ups or anxieties. 

 

Either way, Ray’s urge to bolt after the kiss feels painfully familiar. On screen, I saw someone who wanted to experience connection. Someone who’s found a way to do so while staying in control. I’m sure he genuinely enjoys BDSM, and that’s cool. But to me it reads as managing intimacy on his own terms. When he shared that kiss with Colin at the end of Pillion, I could feel his emotions. I could hear the thoughts racing through his mind, a mixture of elation and panic. And perhaps most of all, I had empathy for his desire to run away.

Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral

Image: A24

Love, not to get too grand about it, is a scary thing. It requires us to be vulnerable, to open ourselves up to someone and trust they’ll accept us, be there, and stick around. Not everyone does, but we must be hopeful. We must reciprocate too. Maybe in that moment Ray was thinking back to the last time he kissed someone. My guess is it ended sadly, one way or another. His response to the possibility of falling in love with Colin is understandable, even if it’s not the fairytale ending everyone dreams of — or makes Ray likeable. As we see in the film, being liked is not something he’s phased about.

 

The kiss at the end of Pillion is thus less a romantic flourish and more a catastrophic safeword failure: suddenly there’s no leather buffer. Just the horrifying possibility of love.

 

My expectations walking into Pillion were tilted toward relating to the subby, meeker Colin – the “good boy” archetype I’m quite comfortable associating with. I naturally thought that’s where I’d see myself. But I found myself in Ray instead, the emotionally armoured dom. Funny how that works. 

Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral

Sub in bed, dom in head

Did pillion make me a dom?

how kink and control shapeD
one guy’s idea of love

 

LONDON, 18 December 2025

After seeing the film, our man Alastair realises he might not be the obedient “good boy” sub he always thought, but an emotionally armoured “dom” in disguise – topping from the bottom by keeping romance at a safe distance, and using “situationships” as a barrier. For him, Pillion is less a porn‑adjacent biker fantasy and more a mirror: a revealing story about how kink can feel safer than connection, and how one unexpected moment can dom your entire love life into question.

“As a natural sub I found myself feeling more for Pillion’s dom”

Heavy Feral

Pillion, the new film by Harry Lighton. Image: A24

By ALASTAIR JAMES

Spoiler alert! Pillion, the new “dom-com” from Harry Lighton, turned out (surprisingly) to be a leather-clad love letter to the terrifying kink known as… feelings. On the surface Alexander Skarsgård plays a gruff dom biker who spends the film barking orders and treating alleyways like his personal service station.

 

But there’s a moment right at the end of the film that really touched me. Ray, Skarsgård’s dom biker, finally gives Colin, his sub, what’s basically a “day off” from their dynamic, at the end of which they experience a simple but meaningful moment of intimacy: a kiss. One tender, lips-only kiss that cracks like a whip and leaves Ray more vulnerable and exposed than a fluorescent-lit full-frontal.

Heavy Feral

Image: A24

After an hour and a half of rough sex and knees hitting the pavement, that simple kiss feels like the most shocking thing in the film. 

 

It’s something Ray doesn’t appear to have allowed himself to experience much, if at all. His disappearing afterward makes that clear. It’s a moment that devastates both men; Colin is heartbroken that someone he loves has abandoned him, and Ray is scared and does the only thing that makes sense to him: he runs. Or more accurately, he mounts his bike and speeds off.

So where do I fit into all of this?

Heavy Feral

Find him on Instagram 

Heavy Feral

@mralastairjames

Order Feral Magazine and support queer print

Heavy Feral

I should say upfront: I’m not a 6’4 biker stud built like Skarsgård. But I look alright on a good day, if I do say so myself. I’m not really all that into BDSM either, though I had a nice experience being tied up once, and could be tempted to explore the art further. But as someone who’s been so afraid of showing vulnerability and intimacy for so long, I saw a lot of myself in Ray.

 

I understand his use of BDSM as a method of relationship control. Not just sexually, but emotionally and mentally. It’s a way of enjoying attraction and intimacy while maintaining a safe distance with particular rules and boundaries. You protect yourself. You protect others. Everyone knows their place.

 

My own fear of connection and commitment has meant I’ve approached romantic relationships for years now with a similar strategy. I.e. largely not at all. 

 

Instead, I’ve opted for casual situationships, typically with older men than I, that center around sex but include intellectual and emotional engagement too. The sex is casual; the connection isn’t quite. We share evenings together, not just beds.

 

What I’m talking about is “Friends with benefits”, essentially. Partnered friends, more specifically. I start these relationships with men who are often in happy (open) relationships, looking for, shall I say, an “alternative source of intimacy”. Some I’m closer with than others. The frequency of our meetings depends on various factors like schedules and travel, and so on. What helps to keep emotions in check is that these situationships are mostly with men who are unavailable. They’re not looking for something serious, and nor am I.

Heavy Feral

Pillion has staggered European release dates: UK/Ireland on 28 Nov 2025, Austria 19 Dec 2025, then Sweden 13 Feb 2026, Spain 6 Mar 2026, and Germany 26 Mar 2026, with some other countries still unannounced.

Heavy Feral

Images: A24

Yet, romance is actually something I’ve been tentatively considering for another ride, but the throttle hand still trembles – a topic that’s come up more than once in therapy lately.

 

I was born in 1993 and moved up to secondary school in 2004. Section 28, the Thatcher-era legislation that prevented local authorities from “promoting homosexuality,” meant that queerness wasn’t just uncelebrated but effectively gagged. It was only repealed in England and Wales in 2003. For many of us, our first real education in “gay” often came via schoolyard taunts and accusations, rather than something more meaningful.

 

The bullying I experienced, while far from the worst, led to a wariness of getting too close to people, fearful of revealing too much and being made a pariah. I have remarkably little relationship experience at 32, mostly because I spent years feeling a need to protect myself. 

 

Am I unlovable? Will people leave if they see the real me? These are the thoughts that circle in my mind whenever butterflies threaten to appear. Before they have the chance to leave, the helmet’s already on and the engine’s idling. I cut things off, turn tail, and run.

Heavy Feral

When feelings develop, Alastair only has one thing on his mind.

Skarsgård is 49, born in 1976, and I imagine in the film Ray is around the same age. That would mean he grew up through the AIDS crisis and the rampant homophobia of the 1980s and 90s. Both would understandably make someone want to control intimacy as a form of self-protection. It’s the kind of formative trauma Russell Tovey has described so vividly, along with its lasting impact.

 

With the added perspective of being a 1990s baby who’s probably had a bit more access to therapy, discourse, and emotional vocabulary than Ray, I’ve been deconstructing the barriers I spent years erecting, even if some old scars remain. I’m still learning to trust people. Still learning to let myself feel the full range of intimacy and connection. It’s a constant process.

 

I’d hazard a guess that more men of my generation have done the same than people in older generations, people like Ray. Though I’m sure there are plenty of men Ray’s age who live happily with zero hang-ups or anxieties. 

 

Either way, Ray’s urge to bolt after the kiss feels painfully familiar. On screen, I saw someone who wanted to experience connection. Someone who’s found a way to do so while staying in control. I’m sure he genuinely enjoys BDSM, and that’s cool. But to me it reads as managing intimacy on his own terms. When he shared that kiss with Colin at the end of Pillion, I could feel his emotions. I could hear the thoughts racing through his mind, a mixture of elation and panic. And perhaps most of all, I had empathy for his desire to run away.

Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral

Image: A24

Love, not to get too grand about it, is a scary thing. It requires us to be vulnerable, to open ourselves up to someone and trust they’ll accept us, be there, and stick around. Not everyone does, but we must be hopeful. We must reciprocate too. Maybe in that moment Ray was thinking back to the last time he kissed someone. My guess is it ended sadly, one way or another. His response to the possibility of falling in love with Colin is understandable, even if it’s not the fairytale ending everyone dreams of — or makes Ray likeable. As we see in the film, being liked is not something he’s phased about.

 

The kiss at the end of Pillion is thus less a romantic flourish and more a catastrophic safeword failure: suddenly there’s no leather buffer. Just the horrifying possibility of love.

 

My expectations walking into Pillion were tilted toward relating to the subby, meeker Colin – the “good boy” archetype I’m quite comfortable associating with. I naturally thought that’s where I’d see myself. But I found myself in Ray instead, the emotionally armoured dom. Funny how that works. 

Heavy Feral
Heavy Feral