Young Milton

Young Milton

Milton drew his knees up and rested his chin on the worn denim. He stared at the water, watching a few geese in the distance partially obscured by reeds. Idly he tossed a pebble, listening to the splash and watching the concentric circles flow and disappear as the water returned to its smooth glass like appearance. 

“Are you going to stay here all day?”

Milton continued to look out over the water. He should turn and speak to Landon; it was after all the polite thing to do, and Gordon was all into polite. Landon wouldn’t do anything. He didn’t swat or spank or have canes hidden in strategic places.

“Quiet today.” Landon said, crouching down on the rock beside Milton. “Did you and Gordon get into it again?”

Milton shook his head. He’d stayed out of the way this morning, more to avoid Peter than Gordon, but it had resulted in avoiding Gordon’s wrath.

“Peter driving you wild?”

Milton looked at Landon for the first time, catching the glint of amusement in his sharp eyes.

“Peter’s a very young submissive, and he likes you. He’s only trying to get your attention.”

Great, Milton thought. Being chased after by a kid with long greasy hair wielding a mustard bottle as a weapon was not Milton’s idea of fun. He’d outgrown that behavior in third grade.

“Swat him next time he gets to be too much.”

“And he’ll never leave me alone.” Milton flipped another stone into the water below.

“Would that be a bad thing?” Landon asked, running his hand down Milton’s back. “We don’t expect you to live like a monk. You’re young; enjoy yourself.”

“There is nothing enjoyable about having yellow mustard squirted on your shirt, especially since it is my duty to do the laundry, or having a companion at the grocery store who rivals a toddler for attention,” Milton said with a deliberate snap to his voice.

“Peter’s young,” Landon said with a laugh. “He needs to be taught. You should be more charitable.”

“And Gordon’s charitable with me?” Milton flushed and clamped his lips together. He hadn’t meant to say that much, but he was tired and frustrated. He’d hoped for at least a  small acknowledgment that his studies had gone well. He had a perfect four point average, and Gordon had merely grunted as if nothing less was acceptable. Milton didn’t need their praise. His marks were good; he didn’t need Gordon to validate his achievements.

“Hey.” Landon wrapped an arm around Milton’s shoulders. “We’re both proud of you. Don’t you ever doubt that. You are a wonderful young man.”

“Right. I’m good for ironing the sheets and being humiliated at dinner parties.”

“Milton,” Landon said softly, pushing the dark hair off Milton’s forehead. “Is that how you feel?”

Milton squirmed away from Landon and toed the rock with his boot. He didn’t want to talk about this. 

“You are Andrew’s grandson. It would be easier to cross the Atlantic in a rowboat than get you to talk about your feelings.” Landon kissed Milton’s cheek and tousled Milton’s hair. 

Milton automatically smoothed his hair back into place and tried to pull farther away from Landon. He’d come out here to be alone.

“You’ll fall right off this rock. You can’t get away.” Landon said and tousled Milton’s hair again. He smiled a half grin that was a tease and a promise, his eyes alight with something Milton didn’t understand. Landon leaned forward, his lips just brushing Milton’s. It was a chaste kiss, but Landon’s expression wasn’t chaste; that was what had been in those dancing eyes. “Do you want this? You are beautiful.”

Milton sighed, trying to find his self-control. He shouldn’t want to kiss Landon. This was Gordon’s partner. 

“It’s your choice. Gordon won’t make the first move.” 

“But--”

“Did anything about our relationship, mine with Gordon, ever seem ordinary or conventional?” Landon brushed the hair back that had fallen over Milton’s forehead. “It’s about what works for us. Andrew and Doug are more conventional. Neither is right or wrong. They were raising a child. We are not. We are not always monogamous in the traditional ways.”

Milton leaned into Landon’s stroking hand. He couldn’t stop himself. He was lonely, and he wanted sex. Maybe not in that order, but he didn’t care. He’d tried a few times at school. Getting a date hadn’t been all that hard if he didn’t talk much, but they’d scattered hurriedly to the wind. The bravest had managed to mutter that Milton was too intense as he’d fled down the corridor, clutching his shoes in his hand.

“Come.” Landon entwined his fingers in Milton’s and kissed his lips again. “I’m too old for outside on a rock. That’s fine for you youngsters.”

Milton let himself be led down the trail, not sure where this was going. Landon was handsome and decent and didn’t play with mustard bottles, but was that enough? Milton didn’t usually follow, and he was being led. He didn’t want to think; he just wanted to feel.

They clattered down the hallway into Gordon and Landon’s private apartment. Gordon was here today, documents spread in front of him at the dining room table, one hand pushing buttons to place a call. He set the receiver down and looked up. He studied both Landon and Milton.

“Where did you find him?”

“Where we expected. He was pouting on the rock.”

Milton wanted to shout he didn’t pout. He’d just wanted to get away.

“And you don’t pout, do you, lad? I saw that at the tip of your tongue.”

“No,” Milton snarled.

“No, you snarl and snap and roar,” Gordon said with a private smile. “Young dominants, they are trying.”

“You try scurrying around ironing your fucking sheets and kneeling at your asinine meetings where everybody treats you like a piece of meat. If that slob had touched me one more time, I was going to break his hand.”

“I had him escorted off the property,” Gordon said mildly.

Milton looked up and swallowed hard. What had he just said? None of it good. “Sorry, sir.” Too late for the apology now, but it was worth a try.

“Finally,” Landon said and slapped Milton on the back in a jovial swat of fun and good sportsmanship. “You’ve been seething since summer started.”

Milton looked between Landon and Gordon. They should be angry. Milton had just behaved despicably, and they looked relieved.

“It took enough.” Gordon stood and towed an unresisting Milton forward until he crashed into the older man’s chest. “You are the most stubborn young man I’ve ever met.”

Milton let himself fall against Gordon’s chest and be surrounded by Gordon’s arms. Milton was taller, broader, and stronger than Gordon, but this was still somehow protected space.

“We all know you’re not the scullery boy, and unless someone is emotionally tone deaf, your status as a young dominant is obvious. This is not about torturing and humiliating you; it’s about helping you understand what your submissive will feel and need. Come sit with me.”

There was no question that Milton would let himself be guided into the living room and placed on the sofa between the two men. Landon rested his hand on Milton’s knee.

“We’re not mad, and we’re not disappointed. We’re enchanted.” Landon grinned mischievously. It was only when Landon grinned that he ever resembled a submissive.

“Milton, I have not been kind to you,” Gordon said bluntly. “A dominant of your strength will overwhelm his submissive if he is not entirely aware of his power. The dominant has a right to expect submission and can order the submissive to perform useless and repetitive tasks--sweeping the house with a broom rather than a vacuum. The submissive looks to the dominant for reassurance, safety, and praise. You were justifiably angry that I said little of your stunning academic performance this year.”

“It was nothing,” Milton said, feeling the blush on his cheeks.

“It was excellent,” Gordon repeated. “Look at me. What was I trying to teach you?”

Milton stared into Gordon’s dark eyes, mesmerized by the strength of the personality and surprised by the kindness that seemed to hide in their dark depths. “That I’ve been an idiot.”

“No.” Gordon swatted Milton’s thigh hard. “If you were a submissive I’d pull you over my knee, and we would do this face down and bare. Would that be easier?”

“No.” It might be easier, but Milton didn’t want to be in that humiliating position. Ass up he could pretend there was no choice, but he didn’t want to pretend, and he always knew.

“What have I been teaching you?” Gordon asked with the calm relentlessness that worked so well with distressed submissives.

“Submissives look toward their dominant for validation and praise. They’ll do stupid tasks. They won’t resist until it’s gone impossibly too far.”

“Very good. You’re not a submissive, and yet I manipulated you until pleasing me was more important than you knowing it was brilliantly performed or knowing it was a task that should be either scoffed at or passed to idle and troublesome hands. I had this power, and I have not touch you sexually. You will wield even more with your lover.”

Milton looked down and ran his thumb along the seam of his jeans. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to hurt my lover. I don’t want to dominate him.”

“Milton.” Gordon forced Milton’s chin up. “You cannot change what you are. You must learn to tame it, not deny it. You will never be a submissive, and you will never be vanilla. Embrace yourself. Use the power that flows naturally though your veins to bring joy and pleasure to your lover.” 

Gordon stood, clicked his fingers, and pointed at the floor. Landon grinned and pulled his shirt over his head before kicking off his shoes and shucking his pants and briefs. He dropped to his knees at Gordon’s feet.

“I never have managed to teach him to fold his clothes,” Gordon said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Are we going to discuss my ability to be hired by the dry cleaners?” 

“Smart mouths deserve a red arse. You are much too pale, my lad.” Gordon sat back down on the sofa and in one smooth motion guided Landon into position. They were so close that Milton felt the vibrations through the sofa as each swat fell. He could see the indentation as the hand landed and then the blossoming red. Landon was wiggling and yelping, but he was enjoying it.

“No more,” Landon shouted, throwing his hands back.

“Lad, we’re just started. I think Milton should have a go.”

Landon levered himself upright and practically threw himself over Milton’s knees. “Well, aren’t you going to have a go?” he asked when Milton sat frozen.

Milton stared, stunned at Landon draped over his lap, the dark head buried in the cushions, his hands reaching forward to rest in Gordon’s lap.

“Put your left arm over Landon’s hip and anchor him. Stroke the heated flesh with your other hand then land the first blow.”

Milton hesitated, his palm resting on the warm, pink flesh. He’d never hit anyone before. Landon naked over Milton’s lap was enticing and frightening at the same time. Milton liked Landon; he respected Landon. He didn’t hit. He was a big man; he had to watch his strength. Grandfather did this; Grandfather loved Doug.

“Landon’s experienced; he’ll help you,” Gordon said and gave Milton a half smile.

Milton lifted his hand and landed his palm on the pink flesh. Nothing changed. Landon was quiet and still in Milton’s lap, seeming not to have noticed the spank.

“I’m not made out of glass. I won’t shatter.”

Milton swatted harder. He felt the sting across his own palm. He saw the red deepen on the inviting buttocks. Landon squirmed and sighed. Milton landed another swat. Landon was enjoying this; Milton had never felt anything but humiliated and ashamed to be caught in some sort of trouble over Gordon’s lap. Landon was erect and wiggling over Milton’s thighs. Milton felt a corresponding tightness as he responded to Landon’s moans.

“Don’t you dare, my lad,” Gordon warned Landon. 

“Soon,” Landon panted.

“Not without my permission,” Gordon growled.

“Please.”

Gordon only smiled, his eyes fixed on his partner. Landon moaned and Milton wanted to moan with him. “Up. Now,” Gordon barked, pulling Landon off Milton’s lap. “This is for me. Not yet.” 

Milton shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What the hell had just happened? What the hell was happening to him? He knew the bulge in his jeans had to be visible.

“Come, boy.” Gordon held out his hand.

Milton stood, still feeling dizzy and far more flushed than Landon who was somehow standing collected by Gordon in the buff with a proud and erect cock.

Gordon stroked Milton’s cheek, his touch feather light. “Are we doing this? We’ll be careful with you.”

“Please,” Milton groaned. Please don’t analyze this. He couldn’t talk; he couldn’t think.

“Boy, you have too many clothes on.”

Milton pulled his shirt over his head with shaking hands. He reached for his belt buckle, and Landon batted his hands away.

“Let me.” Landon’s hands glided down Milton’s chest, and with deft sureness he unbuckled Milton’s belt before dropping to his knees and unlacing Milton’s boots. Gordon held Milton’s shoulders as Landon pulled off each boot and sock. Landon’s hands traced the outline of Milton’s crotch and unfastened the snap and lowered the zipper. “Step out.” 

Naked, flushed, and more aroused than Milton could remember, he stood exposed in the living room. 

“Beautiful,” Gordon whispered and kissed Milton on the lips as his hand did something that was driving Milton wild. Landon’s hands were somewhere, everywhere. Each touch felt electric. “Youngsters,” Gordon chuckled. “Sensitive. Beautiful. Come.”

****

Milton turned over in the bed. It wasn’t the narrow single in the boy’s room. He opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light from the windows.

“I thought you might sleep the day away,” Gordon said and kissed Milton’s cheek. Gordon was dressed and as crisp as ever. He had a paperback in his hand that he closed and set on the nightstand. “How do you feel?”

How did he feel? They’d just had wild sex. How was he supposed to feel? He’d spanked Landon. He’d been under Gordon and submitted in ways he’d only imagined.

“You’re a good boy. We want you to enjoy it.”

He’d enjoyed it--mind blowing. He hadn’t been a virgin, but he wasn’t the most experienced, and it hadn’t been like this. 

Gordon stroked his fingers down Milton’s face. “The power exchange is about love and pleasure, not only discipline and chores. We wanted to show you this. It was our pleasure to show you this.” Gordon kissed Milton chastely on the lips. “It’s your choice, my lad. We’ve had you in bed, but it doesn’t mean you must stay, and we all know you won’t always be my boy. Someday you will have your own boy. I can’t keep you forever, no matter how much I desire it.” Gordon kissed Milton’s forehead in that possessive way that had always made Milton flinch, but somehow suddenly felt right. 

“Does this mean I can stop doing the ironing?”

Gordon laughed and ruffled Milton’s hair. “It means you can delegate the ironing to Peter, but you’re responsible if he burns a hole in my shirt. That lad is a menace.”

“He’s young,” Milton said charitably.

“You’re young also.”

Milton propped himself up on his elbow and took a long breath. “I’m a dominant. It means I see things differently than Peter, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Gordon said and smiled gently. “Yes, you do.”