Steve's Tale 1

Steve's Tale
Chapter 1

Steve hurried across the quad. He’d told Josh a feeble excuse about the language labs, but Steve was half jogging in the other direction toward the residence halls and the fraternity houses. He only needed to get away from the cluster of teaching buildings, and he would be home free for a few hours. Nobody would be looking for him; Steve hadn’t even told Mike and Luke. Not that they would intentionally rat him out, but they lived with three dominants, each with his own bloodhound instincts. 

Tilden had given Steve a hard look today when the good professor had been drilling the verb endings into Steve’s feeble brain. Josh had insisted that Steve take the accelerated Russian that was being offered in January. Steve hadn’t been able to hack Russian at the normal pace; now he had four hours a day of Tilden and grammar designed by insane men who must have found solace through the long winters by creating a language that was impossible for normal people to learn. Well, Steve was actually learning it but only with Tilden dragging the helpless students kicking and screaming behind him. 

Steve went to class every day; he even arrived on time. Josh and even Jer were pretty fierce in the morning if they caught Steve idling in bed. No missed morning classes for him. Tilden was like the caffeinated Russian master at eight in the morning. He bounded around the classroom, dragging poor hapless students forward to write on the board or participate in insane dialogues. Steve knew he was never going to ask directions to Red Square or buy a train ticket in St Petersburg. To make matters worse, Tilden offered additional practice at lunch every day, three days a week in the school cafeteria and two days at The Olde Curiosity Shop. At least today had been at the shop. Ordering in Russian was a ridiculous pain, but Steve had settled on a simple menu. He had the same ham sandwich and chips every meal, less embarrassing that way.

With the weekend coming up, Tilden had dragged Steve home with him and forced Steve to do the homework. Tilden was more than nice, Steve had to admit to himself, but God, he was tired of having a top around every corner. Milton had a nasty habit of popping out from behind doors or launching himself off innocent armchairs if Steve even thought about slacking off. Sheldon said Milton was harmless, and even Luke concurred with only a slight hesitation, but Steve didn’t want to find out. Sheldon was Milton’s partner, and they didn’t hide that they were passionately in love. Milton touched Sheldon with a possessive love that was breathtaking. 

Steve couldn’t remember his parents ever touching like that. They’d divorced when Steve was eight, and maybe he’d been too young to notice, but he could remember the arguments and cold, hard silence. The last year his mother had been increasingly absent; frozen meals in front of the blaring TV or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich had become the norm. Steve remembered that final Sunday. He’d woken up to shouting that he drowned out with the raucous laughter of television cartoons. He’d heard a crash outside his window; it was his father tossing the little nursery rhyme figurines that perched on every free shelf out the kitchen door.

“You bitch! Go with your sniveling accountant friend.”

Steve had hidden in his room for the rest of the day. He hadn’t understood the words, but he’d felt the anger, the hatred. Parents thought they hid it from their kids, but Steve had already known long before his father smashed Little Bo Peep.

“Styopa, Styopa.” Steve heard, shaking him out of his memories of his past. Tilden was striding toward him, his hair catching flight in the wind, a long scarf trailing around his neck.

Shit, Steve thought, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket and trying to put on a bright smile, but continuing to walk. He was caught for sure. There was no way that the “I’m going to the library” schtick was going to fly with Tilden. Steve was dressed in tight black jeans, a cream colored turtleneck, a leather jacket, and heading toward fraternity row on the biggest night of winter term partying. This was beach party night. He’d seen the dump truck load of sand from the window of the foreign language building, and even this early he could smell the bonfires and hear the surf tunes cranking up on the stereo system.

“Styopa, kuda ty?”

“Domoy.” At least that was an easy one. Steve knew how to say he was going home, and now caught redhanded that was where he was going. The question was would he be going home alone to a comfortable night, or was Tilden going to grab this wayward boy, and Steve would face Josh? Shit and double shit!

“Gde ty byl?”

“The library,” Steve answered in Russian, trying his most winning smile and concentrating hard on remembering the proper case endings. The questions had been easy, and Steve thought he’d gotten the right case endings, but Tilden didn’t look happy. Tilden usually smiled when Steve mangled the Russian language and praised him for his effort.

Tilden was now abreast with Steve, Tilden’s long strides making Steve feel as if he needed to jog to keep pace. “The library without books. Odd outfit for the library.” Tilden gave Steve a hard look.

Tilden had switched back to English, not a good sign. It meant he wanted to be very clear that he was understood. This wasn’t dialogue practice. “I’m pretending I can go out. The library’s a big outing in my lifestyle.” Oh God, why had he said that? Tilden hadn’t grabbed him, hadn’t started dragging him home with threats of future bodily harm. Tilden was giving Steve a chance, and Steve had just buried himself.

“I think we need to talk to Josh.” Tilden’s voice was still quiet and friendly, but there was a note of authority, a tone that always made Mike and Luke jump. Steve shuddered as Tilden’s arm dropped over his shoulder. “It’s OK,” Tilden said squeezing the junction between Steve’s shoulder and neck. “From your reaction, I’d say you’ve been telling tall tales. I’ll walk you home. Take this time to think about what you’re going to say to Joshua. It might save you some corner time.”

Josh and Jer kept a small cottage at the base of the hill on the edge of town. Except when Josh needed to be in Boston, they lived here. Usually, its picket fence and green shuttered windows were a welcoming sight, but now Steve dragged his feet as he could see the row of cottages come into view behind the barren trees. It wouldn’t be welcoming tonight. If he’d stayed home, he probably could have watched a movie on TV, or if he begged hard enough, Josh might even let him play a video game. Josh had an irrational fear of video games and kept them strictly rationed. He said they turned kids’ brains into mush. Steve had thought it was an age thing until Jer had shared it was a top thing while soundly beating Steve at the latest Star Quest game. For an old guy, he had reflexes like lightening, and he never needed hints for the puzzles.

Tilden rapped the brass knocker against the door twice but didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door and pushing Steve inside in front of him. 

“Who’s there?” Josh said, coming out of the living room. He was dressed in his home clothes, faded jeans, a Banner sweatshirt, and wool socks on his unshod feet. “Tilden, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Josh stopped, studying Steve’s wardrobe. “I thought you were going to the language labs.”

Steve dropped his eyes; he could feel a tear trying to escape, and he wiped frantically at his cheek.

“Steve, where did Tilden find you?”

Steve stared at his feet. He knew Josh hated it when he didn’t answer, but he couldn’t make himself lift his head. He’d lied to Josh, and the minute Tilden opened his mouth the whole sordid story would spill out.

“Steve.” Josh’s voice was now a rifle shot, piercing Steve’s body. Josh didn’t need to raise his voice; he did something with the tone that could make any submissive in the county wish for an unmarked grave. “Upstairs. Pajamas and in the corner. Now.”

Steve ran up the stairs, his face flushed. Tilden would tell Josh, and Steve would be dead in a few minutes, but at least he was out of Josh’s disapproving gaze. Steve’s bedroom was at the head of the stairs. It had been the guest bedroom until he came along as a seemingly permanent occupant and still had a guest room feel of extra mismatched furniture and a bookshelf stuffed with old paperbacks that no one wanted to read. Steve dropped on the bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders, no longer trying to control the tears. It was his blanket. Jer had given it to him for Christmas and said that if Steve was going to be staying that he needed some things of his own. Josh had built the desk in the corner. It was a perfect study cubby, even had a view out over the garage to a tree that Jer promised a robin nested in every spring. Through the tears, Steve looked up at the wall. They’d taken down a generic print of some bird and hung a Luke original. It was Steve at the kitchen table, his books in front of him, and Jer’s dark head bent over Steve’s shoulder as he pointed something out in the text.

They were so nice to him, and Steve had done this. How long were they going to put up with his crap? It wasn’t as if he was Josh’s partner. Steve was just the extra boy.

“Steven, that’s not the corner, and those are not your pajamas. Up.” Josh pulled Steve up, stripping the blanket from his shoulders. “Pajamas.”

Steve blindly fished around in his dresser drawer, pulling out a T-shirt and worn flannel bottoms. He stared at Josh who was leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He was a big man, and age hadn’t decreased his intimidation factor.

“Change,” Josh growled. Josh usually left the room, giving Steve privacy, but today he remained, his shoulders propped against the wall.

Steve fumbled with his pants zipper. He couldn’t seem to get it down. Somehow he managed to get his jacket off, but he still couldn’t get his pants. The zipper was down, but now they were all muddled with his shoes. He kicked at his shoe, tripping on his pants wrapped around his ankles.

“Little boy, you’re a mess,” Josh said. He’d moved from the wall without Steve noticing; Josh’s hands were warm against the young man’s back. “You’re in terrible trouble, but I’m not going to kill you.” Josh pushed Steve down on the bed, untied his shoes, pulled them off, followed by his pants and underwear and then pulled on the flannel pajama bottoms. With the same efficiency, he switched Steve’s turtleneck for the T-shirt but added a sweatshirt from the drawer. “It’s cold tonight.” Josh dropped a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “You will remember tonight. You don’t get to lie to me, but I will take care of you. I promise.” Josh pulled Steve up and pushed the young man ahead of him into Josh and Jer’s bedroom.

Steve moved limply forward. His face was soaked with tears, and Josh had done nothing but be kind. Steve had been in their bedroom, usually helping one of them with the domestic chores that they were both so adamant got done every Sunday. He’d never been here for punishment; Josh usually did that in Steve’s room, unceremoniously pulling Steve over his knees and landing a few whacks. 

“Corner,” Josh said, steering Steve into the only clear corner in the bedroom. Jer had jokingly called this his corner, and Steve had seen Jer standing there once or twice while Josh read. They always closed the door when they saw Steve, and Steve would tiptoe back downstairs. It didn’t seem right to pry. 

Steve leaned his head against the wall, his unchecked tears streaming down his face, his shoulders shaking with sobs. They tried so hard to keep him out of trouble, and he’d flaunted them. He wasn’t really theirs. Why keep a boy who landed Gordon’s wrath on their backside?

“Steve, come here.” Josh’s voice was quiet. He never threatened; he never yelled. 

Steve couldn’t make himself move. He pressed his head harder into the corner and willed himself to disappear.

“Turn around and come talk to me.” Josh was behind Steve now, his hand on Steve’s neck, steering him out of the corner. “I don’t think you want to defy me any more tonight, boy. You’ve lived with us long enough I had hoped you trusted me. Why don’t you?” Josh sat on the bed and pulled Steve down on his lap.

Steve buried his head and sobbed, clutching Josh’s shirt.

“Steve, I need you to talk to me. We don’t do this if we don’t talk.” Josh pushed Steve off his chest, kissed the boy’s forehead, and held him firmly by the shoulders. “Talk to me, boy. You will have plenty to cry about later. Why did you lie to me?”

Steve gulped, trying to get something out of his throat besides sobs. He didn’t want to look at Josh. He knew there would be disappointment in those gentle eyes. Josh who made time to talk to Steve every day, always through those torturous conversations trying to teach Steve to talk. It didn’t matter if Josh had spent the day sorting out crumbling buildings or sitting in conferences with the Mayor on tunnel construction, he made Steve talk. Steve could hear the words a thousand times in his mind. “It’s your duty to talk with your top. Lies and evasions are not acceptable between dominant and submissive. I will always punish them.”

“Don’t look away from me,” Josh ordered, grabbing Steve’s chin. “I want your eyes on me. Do I look like an axe murderer?”

Steve sat, his legs straddling Josh. He should answer, but he couldn’t.

“I asked a question.” Josh landed a swift slap on Steve’s inner thigh. “Silence is not an option. Do I look like an axe murderer?” Another hard slap. “Do I look like an axe murderer?” The sting of a slap again.

“No. That hurt’s.” Steve tried to jerk his leg out of the way as he saw Josh’s hand move again. It wasn’t a slap, though. Josh let his hand rest on Steve’s thigh, rubbing gently.

“Good boy. Are you afraid of me?”

Steve didn’t know. Usually not. Josh was gentle. He’d even been gentle after the stupidity at the bar, but tonight Steve didn’t know. He yelped as Josh’s hand landed in the exact spot.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Yes.” Steve jerked expecting another slap.

“Always or right now?”

“Stop.” Steve tried to shield his leg.

“Lace your fingers behind your back. Do it.” Josh tapped a warning stroke on Steve’s thigh.

Steve felt his fingers come together behind him. He couldn’t disobey Josh’s voice in that tone. He sat defenseless, vulnerable to more swats.

“Good boy.” Josh dropped a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Are you always afraid of me?”

“No,” Steve squeaked.

“Are you sure?” Josh tapped Steve’s leg again.

“I’m sure.”

“Why’d you lie to me?”

Steve shrugged.

“That’s not an answer.” Josh landed another swat. “Do you like answering questions the hard way?”

“No, don’t swat me again.”

“Talk to me, boy. Haven’t I been providing you enough supervision? I didn’t think you needed it stronger. Did I misread you that badly?”

“No,” Steve whined and started to cry again.

Josh brushed his hand over Steve’s hair. “I’m going to be giving you plenty of reason to cry in a few minutes. You might want to try to mitigate the punishment by explaining why you thought it was a good idea to tell me you were going to the language lab when you were going to a frat party and telling Tilden you were at the library. That is what happened, isn’t it?”

Steve swallowed, tasting the thick tears in his throat. It sounded so awful when described like that. Not that going to a frat party was terrible. He was a college student after all. Couldn’t Josh understand that college students partied? It was the lying. Josh had high expectations, and usually Steve respected those expectations, even liked them if he was being totally honest with himself.

“Answer me.” Another hard swat landed on Steve’s thigh exactly in the path of the previous one.

“Ow!” Steve wanted to rub the spot. It had to be red, and he could feel the crackling heat, but Josh had insisted that Steve keep his hands laced behind his back. “That hurts.”

“You can avoid them by talking to me. These relationships are pretty simple; actions have consequences. You were going to a frat party?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve forced out.

“There’s alcohol at frat parties.”

“It’s college.” Steve couldn’t help but say. He cringed at the look Josh gave him, immediately regretting his words.

“Can you legally drink? Will there be any controls on underaged drinking?”

“No.”

“So besides the fact you lied to me about your destination tonight, it would also have been illegal and potentially dangerous.”

“College students drink all the time.”

“They may, but they don’t live with me, and they sure as hell don’t have their behavior pledged.”

“I didn’t violate the pledge.” 

“Only because Tilden stopped you.”

“Are you going to tell Gordon?” Steve wanted to hide, plaster himself against Josh’s worn sweatshirt, but Josh’s hands were strong against the boy’s shoulders.

“No, because Tilden caught you before you did. You should thank Tilden.” Josh folded his arms around Steve and pulled him close. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Steve felt the cotton against his check. Josh’s arms were tight, protective. The smell of that horrible old-fashioned soap Josh used enveloped Steve -- Irish Spring or something.

“What did I tell you would happen if I found you breaking the pledge?”

“The cane,” Steve choked out. Josh had promised the cane if Steve broke any of those rules that Josh had made Steve copy laboriously for days after the bar.

“Yes, I’m going to cane you. Three for trying to go to the party and three for lying to me. I will not have you lying to me. Next time you lie it’s six just for the lie. I will not have it.”

“Please,” Steve grabbed tight to Josh’s shirt.

“I know you’re afraid, honey. You should be.” Josh dropped a gentle kiss on Steve’s head. “This is going to hurt, but I won’t hurt you. Do you understand the difference?”

Steve nodded. Perversely he trusted Josh. Josh made him cry, controlled things about Steve’s life that no respecting adult and college student should give up, and Steve liked him, could love him, but Josh was Jer’s, and Josh was terrifically old, Steve kept telling himself. He was older than Steve’s father.

“I need you to get up, lower your pajamas, and put your hands on the bed.”

“No.”

“You can do this. Don’t you think you deserve it?”

Steve could only nod. He knew the rules, and Josh had warned him. Josh always warned.

“Up you go. Thinking about it will only make it worse.” Josh set Steve on his feet. “Pants.”

Steve pulled on his pajama bottoms with shaking hands. He couldn’t have gotten them off if they had snaps or buttons, but they only had drawstrings. Josh always made him participate. He said discipline was something you shared, not had done to you.

“Over the bed. Keep your hands forward. You do not want this across your hands.”

Steve froze. The cane was on the bed. He hadn’t seen it before sitting innocently by the pillows.

“Steve, over the bed.” Josh’s tone was sharper, but he didn’t move. Steve had to do this part. “You must consent. I won’t force you.”

“I’m afraid.” Steve could feel the cold air against his butt. Here he was half undressed. He was going to allow a man with silver hair to whip him. Steve shivered.

“I know you are. It’s going to hurt. I won’t tell you otherwise, but hopefully now you’ll remember, and we won’t have to do this again. Come on now. You need to get in position.”

Steve couldn’t resist the slight coax in Josh’s voice, and he found himself butt in the air, hands gripping the quilt.

“They’ll be six. I won’t ask you to count.”

The first stroke fell. Steve heard the cane in the air and felt the light thud as it hit his ass and then the streak of fire. He heard the scream before he realized it was his voice. The second stroke landed as he choked in air from the first and then the next. It was a haze of pain, fire and screams. 

“Brace yourself. The last one goes across the other lines.”

Steve screamed, the sound echoing off the bedroom walls. And then there were hands, tugging Steve from the bed and against a warm chest into safety.

“Good boy. My good boy. It’s all over now.”

Steve cried, unashamed at the tears that ran down his face and soaked Josh. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed as he started to get back control of his breathing.

“I know. It’s over now. We’ve got you. You don’t have to make it this hard on yourself. Let’s get your face washed and a drink of water.”

Steve let Josh tug him into the connected bathroom. He clung to the older man as Josh wiped Steve’s face and held a glass to his lips.

“Small sips.”

“It hurts.”

“Sweetie, I know, but it’s over now.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

Josh kissed Steve’s forehead, hard and possessive. “You’re forgiven. Do you want to talk about it now? Let’s get you comfortable.”

Steve let Josh guide him back to the bedroom, limp and exhausted and still sticky with tears despite the wet cloth. Steve couldn’t seem to stop the tears. He hurt. He’d lied to Josh. He’d almost broken the pledge. He could’ve gotten them caned again.

“Lie down.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t. You know me better than that.” Josh ruffled Steve’s hair. Josh tugged back the covers and carefully settled Steve on his stomach. The top remained sitting on the corner of the bed, his fingers gently threading through Steve’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured into the pillow.

“You’re forgiven, but you can’t lie to me. It will end badly every time. Do you know why you did it?”

Steve tried to wrap his exhausted brain around the question. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, kid. You did something that you knew would get you in trouble, and you just went off and did it with no reason. What was this caning for?”

“Lying and trying to break the pledge.”

“And you would lie to me again right after I caned you.” Josh’s voice was sharp, and he reached down and tapped Steve on the butt. “Think, boy. I’m an old-fashioned dominant. When I say no lying, I mean it. You don’t evade questions with me.”

“Don’t,” Steve wailed. 

“You had to have a reason for getting yourself in so deep.” Josh didn’t swat, but he also didn’t remove his hand from the vulnerable area.

“I want to be like everybody else. No one canes other college kids for partying.”

“They should. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Josh landed a soft swat on Steve’s rump. Normally it would have felt like nothing more than a pat, but with the new stripes Steve flinched. “I’m not a novice at this, my boy. I don’t fall for woe is pitiful me. You’re Steve. You’re not an anonymous college student, trying to turn their liver into a toxic waste dump. You’re a submissive, and right now you’re my submissive, and you’re my pledged submissive. You know better than to think because Billy Bob, the anonymous freshman, can party himself into oblivion that you can. Would Tilden let Mike or Luke go to that type of party?”

“No, but that’s different,” Steve whined.

“Why?”

“They’re Tilden’s.”

“You’re mine.”

“It’s not the same.” Steve wiped his eyes and hugged the pillow. Couldn’t Josh stop the interrogation, just leave him alone?

“They’re lovers. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” Steve whispered to his pillow.

“Oh, Steve, honey, could you have picked a harder way to tell me you want to date? I thought this monastic living was going to get old at some point. You could have told me before I had to knock the stuffing out of you.” Josh chuckled and kissed the back of Steve’s head. “Just try not to bring a stray sub home with you. I’m too old for two your age.”

“I want ...” Steve trailed off. Why couldn’t Josh be younger and single? Steve wanted what he couldn’t have. He didn’t know any tops who were single. He swallowed back his tears; he didn’t want to start crying again.

“Steve, what do you want?” Josh’s voice was soft and warm. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I want my own top,” Steve choked out, burying his head in his pillow. 

Josh’s hand stroked down Steve’s back, soft and smooth. “You will have one. You’re a beautiful submissive: lively, funny, cute as all get out. Now try to get some rest. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Josh’s hand continued to stroke Steve’s back.

*********

“Are you done torturing that poor boy? All he did was try to go to a party.”

Josh set down the book he was reading and fixed Jer with a sharp look. “Don’t take that tone with me, my boy.”

“I had to go to the basement and turn the TV on to block the noise. It sounded like a pig slaughter.” Jer jerked the dresser drawer open and pawed through it, looking for a clean pair of boxers and a T-shirt.

“Don’t take your temper out on the furniture and the clothes. Fold everything and put it back.”

“No! Haven’t you done enough bossing for the day?”

“Come here.”

Jer moved to Josh’s side of the bed. He obeyed that tone of voice even when angry, and he was angry. He glared at Josh, his usually good humored face taut with tension.

Josh landed six crisp swats over one hip. “Do you need more?”

“No. Sorry.” Jer mumbled and rubbed the spot where the spanks had landed. 

“I don’t like doing it either. I felt like a brute.”

“Josh, I’m sorry.” Jer grabbed Josh in his massive arms and squeezed. “You’re never unfair.”

“I caned him.”

Jer kissed his partner’s face, their lips automatically moving together. “That was hard.”

“Horrible. He can’t lie,” Josh said with a sigh, leaning against Jer’s shoulder. “Not in this type of relationship.”

“Did he tell you what the problem was?”

“He’s garbled and confused about his own motivation, but I think he wants a top.”

“He has you.”

“There are parts I can't give him; he wants a partner.”

“That’s a big step.”

“I know.” Josh ran his fingers through his hair. “And if he pulls stunts like this, he’s going to be a tough fit. It’s going to take someone with a lot of chops as a top. He was tough tonight.”

“I’m sure you did the right thing. You always do. You’ve had lots of practice with me.” Jer kissed his partner and started to undress. “I can help you relax.” Jer’s grin was wide and inviting.

“Is he sleeping?”

“He’s out for the count. I checked when I came up. I’ll get up if I hear him. He might need a little mentoring from a fellow sub.” Jer traced his finger down Josh’s jaw line. “But I think you need a little of my time also, and you’re first in line.” Jer planted small kisses down his partner’s jaw line before nipping down Josh’s neck.

“Boy,” Josh growled and pulled his partner toward the bed. “You started this; now you finish it.”

“Yes, sir.” Jer grinned, pulling a hand free, and stripping off his pants and leaving them crumpled on the floor.

“All these years, and I still have to step over your dirty clothes in the morning.”

“Top,” Jer muttered and pushed Josh down on the bed. “I’ll get them in the morning.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Now come here, beautiful. We have better things to do.”

Jer heard the faint whine and half choked sob. Steve was awake. Jer expected it, and he’d left the doors open a crack so he could hear their young boarder. Jer hadn’t been caned for years, but he could still remember the pain when he rolled over against the stripes.

Jer slid the quilt back and carefully climbed out of bed. Josh was still snoring gently, his sliver hair tangled across his forehead. Jer had spent years studying which floorboards had the least probability of creaking. Josh didn’t take kindly to midnight sojourns to grade papers or write journal articles, and Jer thought it was the latter that had resulted in a caning from an unhappy and fed up top. Something about having tried everything else, and it’s either the cane or handcuffs. 

Jer tugged the door shut, letting the catch slide carefully into place. He crossed the hall and entered Steve’s room. Steve was huddled under the covers, pretending to be asleep, but in the faint light from the neighbors’ security lights, Jer could see fresh tear tracks on the boy’s face.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie. It’s only me; the big, bad top’s still asleep.”

“I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll be fine.”

“You will be fine, but it doesn’t mean you don’t want a little company. Do you need to use the toilet?”

“Yeah, but it hurts to move. Josh was so mad.” Steve choked back a sob. “I don’t mean to be so much trouble.”

“Stevie, sweetie, you’re a baby submissive. We expect trouble, and you’ve been easy.”

“I got Josh and Milton caned, and if Tilden hadn’t caught me...”

“The first is ancient history, and the second is the top’s job. They look out for us subs, especially Tilden. He was genetically over endowed with the mother hen complex. Come on. Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

Jer easily lifted Steve out of bed and set him on his feet. He’d lost his pajama bottoms somewhere in the night, and Steve tugged on his shirt, trying to hide the red lines that were neatly etched on his rump.

“Some subs would give their eye teeth for such a pretty set of stripes. I see Josh hasn’t lost his aim,” Jer said dryly.

“They hurt.” Steve sniffled.

Jer looped his big arm around Steve and pulled the boy close. “I know they do, but having Josh that disappointed hurt more, didn’t it?”

Steve nodded. “Is he still mad?”

“He was never mad, only concerned. That was a pretty big lie. Josh was concerned he might have missed something. Do you need something from us?”

“No,” Steve said softly, leaning against Jer’s big frame.

Jer wrapped the back of his hand around Steve’s neck, pulled him close, and kissed the top of his head. It would be so easy to go further. This was a beautiful boy, vulnerable and ready to be loved. It would be easy to take him to bed between the two of them. Thank God, Josh had the strength for both of them. He had to have seen Steve’s eyes on him, the way the boy looked at him.

“Bathroom, honey, and I’ll see if I can find something to ease those cane marks.” 

Jer rummaged though the medicine cabinet, keeping his back determinedly to Steve as Steve took care of business. 

“We have antiseptic spray that says it relieves the pain of minor scrapes and abrasions and antihistamine cream. Which will it be?”

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged and stared at his feet, looking adorably helpless.

“We’ll try both. Spray first and them cream. Lift your shirt tails.” Jer sprayed the red lines and then wiped on the cream. Steve flinched as the aerosol droplets hit the red stripes, but then relaxed. “I guess this actually works.”

“It stung at first, but now it feels cool.”

“OK. Back in bed with you before we have grouchy bear top breathing down our necks.”

Jer dropped his arm around Steve’s shoulders, trying to keep his touch paternal, and guided the boy back to bed. To sleep alone after a caning had to be horrible. Jer always slept draped over Josh after trouble. He straightened the covers, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to take Steve in his arms and carry him back to their bed.

“In you go, wee brat.”

“Thanks for coming in,” Steve said shyly.

“It’s hard to be alone after a punishment. I understand. Lie down. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

“I wasn’t trying to break the pledge,” Steve mumbled into the pillow. “I don’t want to get him in trouble with Gordon.”

“Josh knows. He never thought you were.”

“I like him.” The words were said softly, almost like a confession that Steve didn’t want Jer to hear.

“We both know. We like you too.” What an idiotic choice of words. Jer wanted to use love. They loved this young man, but it couldn’t be the kind of love this kid needed. Josh wouldn’t do it. He’d consider it a violation of trust. He’d taken the boy as a stray, untrained submissive It would be taking advantage even if Steve wanted it. Jer stroked the boy’s back. Josh was right. He was too young, too vulnerable, an easy mark. It couldn’t be consensual. “Josh says you want a top?”

“Yes.”

And you want Josh, don’t you kid? “So what does your fantasy man look like?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said with half a laugh.

“Who do you drool over at the movies?”

“I don’t.”

“Never?” Jer said, intentionally teasing. “You don’t think that new action hero you dragged us out to see last week was cute?”

“Maybe,” Steve said after a minute, “but he wasn't a top. No top would blow up two cars and destroy an entire office building. I want a top.”

“Steady and unexciting, huh, kid? And here I thought college boys liked excitement.”

“I want security.” The confession was whispered. 

“Don’t we all.” Jer tangled his finger’s in Steve’s fair hair. “You’ve grown up a lot. We’re proud of you. Now go to sleep.” Jer continued to stroke Steve’s back, waiting for the breathing to drop to the soft regular pattern of sleep.

“He settle back down?”

Jer turned to see Josh propped against the doorframe. “I left you asleep.”

“It was cold without you. Come back to bed.” Josh held his arms out.

Jer stroked the silky hair under his fingers. It was finer than Josh’s had ever been. “It’s hard to be alone after punishment.”

“We can’t do it any other way. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Is this right?” Jer whispered.

“Maybe not, but it’s the best we’ve got. Come to bed. We don’t want to wake him again.” Josh beckoned with one finger and his expressions hardened for a second.

Reluctantly Jer stood up from the bed after dropping one more kiss on Steve’s hair. “I hate this,” Jer said as they returned to their room. “I know what it’s like to be punished like that. He shouldn’t be alone.”

“Jer, he’s not our lover. He can’t come to bed with us.”

“Well, maybe he should be.”

“No, he’s nineteen and I’m sixty-three and you’re sixty.”

“Age isn’t everything. He loves you, Josh.”

“I love him too,” Josh said softly, “and because I love him, I’m not crossing that line. Now get in bed. I’m not having this discussion at three in the morning.”

******

It was still dark as Steve slipped toward the staircase. He could hear soft snores coming from Jer and Josh’s room, and Steve didn’t want to get sent back to bed. He got up this early on a weekday. It was after six; Josh couldn’t call it the middle of the night. Steve wanted to lie on his stomach and watch the mindless entertainment of cartoons. What had he told Jer last night? It was a jumble, but he was afraid he’d said too much.

Steve stared at the bright colors on the screen. Some creature was ineffectually chasing another strange thing that was either an anteater or a porcupine. Steve couldn’t tell. Why either creature would be running through a major metropolitan area also wasn’t clear.

“Hey, kid, how long have you been down here?”

Steve jumped and looked back over his shoulder. He hadn’t heard Josh come down the stairs or into the living room.  “Since a little after six.”

“That’s early for you.”

“It’s not the middle of the night.” Steve couldn’t keep the defensive tone out of his voice. He didn’t want Josh mad at him again.

“Did you get enough sleep?”

“I couldn’t sleep any longer.”

“Hmm. Maybe you’ll need a nap this afternoon.”

“I’m not six.”

“Careful. You had a hard day yesterday. It took a lot out of you.”

“Getting fucking caned leaves me needing a nap,” Steve said sarcastically.

Josh didn’t speak. He grabbed Steve’s arm, flipped off the TV, and pushed the young man into a corner.

Steve stood, his head propped against the wall. He could hear Josh doing something in the kitchen that seemed to involve lots of pots and pans. Steve chewed his lower lip; he was an idiot. Speaking to Josh in that tone was a guarantee of a quick trip over the top’s knees.

“Come sit at the kitchen table.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve didn’t want to sit in those chairs. They had hard seats, and he would feel every red stripe.

The table was already laid with oatmeal, sausage, and full glasses of orange juice. Steve darted a quick look at Josh. The top hadn’t ordered Steve over his knee, and breakfast was ready.

“I’m going to call what I heard out of your mouth temporary insanity and not spank you. Sit on the chair and remember it will hurt if I have to spank you again today. I don’t think you want that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Josh joined Steve at the table, dumping several heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar into his oatmeal before passing the sugar bowl over to Steve. “Eat, boy.”

Steve speared a sausage and shoved it in his mouth. He wasn’t hungry, but even on normal days Josh was a fanatic about breakfast. It seemed to be a top thing because Steve had seen Trent, Milton, and Tilden be the same way. 

“I have to do a small renovation project for a guy who just moved to Middlefield. Since you’re up, you can come help me.” Middlefield was a wealthy suburb that lay between West Banner and Boston. Steve imagined a banker and his wife wanting a new bathroom even bigger than the last.

“He wants a playroom. Have you ever been in one?”

“For the kids? I had the attic.”

“He doesn’t have kids. It’s an adult playroom.”

“Oh,” Steve said, halting the spoon of oatmeal that was on the way to his mouth. “I’ve never seen one.”

“The drawings are pretty elaborate. He’s going all out. Does that type of lifestyle interest you?”

“No,” Steve said quickly. He’d never really thought of it, but getting whipped for fun sounded terrible.

“Never thought of it, huh?”

“I guess not,” Steve said, stirring his oatmeal, “but I don’t think I’d like it. I don’t like pain.”

“Well, if you’re curious, a friend of mine vetted the guy before giving him my name, said he and his sub were good guys. It’s a good idea as a submissive to at least know something about that side of the lifestyle. Some tops like to play.”

“You don’t with Jer.”

“Neither of us like it. Bondage and elaborate scenes don't work for us. Milton is well versed in all sides of the dynamic, and if you’re interested I can ask him to show you a few things. Sheldon likes you well enough that it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I don’t think I want to.” Steve continued to stir his oatmeal.

“Steve, you don’t have to, but I need to know your preferences if I’m going to help you find a top.”

Steve swallowed hard. Jer had told Josh of Steve’s idiotic confession last night, and now Josh was going to push him out to the nearest available top.

Josh touched Steve’s face, running two fingers down the boy’s cheek. “I’m not tossing you out. We’ll be here for as long as you need us, but I think you’re ready for something more now, and I want to help you find the right person. You’re too wonderful to be put in a bad match.” Josh leaned across the table and kissed Steve’s cheek. “You’ll always be my little boy.” Josh smiled. “Jer will kill me if you’re not happy. He’s quite fond of you. You know that kid, don’t you? I’m very fond of you too.”

Steve nodded. But why couldn’t it be more than fond? Steve rubbed his face, hoping Josh wouldn’t see the tears.

“We had more than enough tears last night. No need for that now. I don’t want to take you to a strange dom’s house, looking like you’ve been crying. I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. I might have to beat them off with the hammer.” Josh smiled and tousled Steve’s hair. 

The house was big. It was in an old village steeped in blue bloods and money, and the houses reflected that. Many were new where smaller homes had been razed to make way for giant homes that could still be nestled in the trees and where the neighbors were only allowed tantalizing glimpses. From the road as they approached the place where they were going, Steve had only caught a peek of the carriage house—which would have been called a garage where Steve grew up—but now that they were in the driveway, the house monopolized the landscape with its twin wings and impressive slate roof.

Steve had never really noticed houses until he’d ridden in the truck with Josh. Josh noticed rooflines and brick work and would point out the difference between fine craftsmanship and popular excesses in size and taste. The house was certainly large, but at least to Steve’s eye it wasn’t large with no other redeeming features. He could tell the window frames were wood with authentic divided lights, not the flat aluminum things that Josh hated. Josh and Jer had windows like this in their cottage, only on a much smaller scale.

“Get the tools,” Josh said in an offhand friendly way, already taking long strides to the front door.

They didn’t have to knock before a tall, broad shouldered man in his late thirties or early forties, a touch of gray showing at his temples, strode out onto the front walkway. Most men looked away or down at their feet when they first met Josh with his unflinching gaze; this man grabbed Josh’s hand in what looked like a knuckle crunching handshake and stared right back. “You must be Joshua Martin. I’m Garth Haversok. Come in, and I’ll show you my project. Bring your boy in too.”

Steve saw Josh’s back stiffen, and the top’s feet stopped moving across the intricate stone pathway. “He’s my assistant. A job goes much faster with an extra pair of hands. He’s not my boy in the sense you’re implying."

Mr Haversok made soothing motions with his hands but seemed unintimidated by Josh’s tone. “That’s a pity because he is a beautiful boy. Is he available?”

Steve felt himself blushing. This man’s eyes flicked across Steve, practically undressing him with a glance. Steve was glad for the oversized sweatshirt and roomy jeans he was wearing, well covered and not provocative.

“If Tom, whom I respect and have been friends for many years, hadn’t recommended you to me, I would leave.” Josh’s finger rubbed down the side of his pants, an almost imperceptible gesture that Steve recognized as a signal to step to the top’s side. He’d seen Josh do the same thing with Jer. “This is Steve Meyer. He will be assisting me today, and no, he’s not available.”

“Very well,” Haversok said with implacable calm. “I assumed since you knew the nature of the project that your young assistant would be versed in the area.”

“He is an excellent carpenter’s apprentice.” Josh’s tone had a note of absolute finality.

“This way, gentlemen.” Haversok opened the door and led them into a grand entry hall. Josh reached down and started unlacing his boots before his feet left the entry rug, and Steve followed suit. “You can walk on it,” Haversok said, waving his hand in a distracted sort of way at the parquet floor. 

“It has a wax finish,” Josh said. “We’ll carry our boots until we reach the work area.”

“Tom did say you had impeccable standards. I’ll have to tell him you wouldn’t walk on the floor. Now if only I could get women in high heels to have the same amount of common sense.” Haversok grinned, enjoying his own joke.

Steve stepped gingerly across the floor. He wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but between the soreness in his ass, the heavy toolbox, and the slippery surface, he was moving carefully. Josh must have noticed Steve’s stilted movement because he grabbed the toolbox in exchange for his boots. They followed Haversok down the grand hall and through a formal dining room and into the kitchen.

“This is where we do most of our living. The front’s for entertaining and too elaborate for my taste, but you do have to keep up appearances,” Haversok said.

The kitchen was comfortable, not overly large, and none of the appliances looked as if they belonged in a commercial kitchen. A plain wood table was pushed against one wall, and a young man was eating cereal out of a box.

“Use a bowl,” Haversok pulled a colorful bowl out of the open shelving.

“I like it dry.” The young man stuck his lower lip out and took the bowl.

“This is Timmy. It’s for him I’m doing the construction project.” Haversok kissed Timmy’s cheek and poured the cereal into the bowl before confiscating the box. “Eat your breakfast and let’s try getting dressed before noon today. Mr. Martin might want some help.”

“I’m Josh or Joshua, whichever you prefer, and you’re paying me for this project. There’s no need to help unless you want.”

Timmy looked at Haversok, a pleading look in his pale blue eyes.

“I have to work,” Haversok said. “Company will do you good. Eat your breakfast and get dressed. You’ve been moping around since we moved.”

“I didn’t want to move.” Timmy banged the bowl down on the table. “I hate it here.”

“You’ll like it fine once you get to know a few people.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Timmy stalked out of the kitchen in a swish of silk pajamas.

Haversok gave Josh a near apologetic look. “I was hoping Tim would show you the space. I have to take a conference call from overseas.”

“I have a copy of the plans,” Josh said in the voice that Steve thought of as professional reassurance. “Change can be unsettling. We have plenty we can get started on.”

“Well, you sure can’t make it look worse. A beautiful house nearly destroyed by a tacky basement,” Haversok said sarcastically, already moving out of the kitchen.

The basement was large and finished with a media room, bar, game room, and workout room. The upstairs had been both subtle and grand, but this was as Haversok described it, tacky.

“Garth said the previous owner left all this stuff. We’re removing the bar and media room and combining the game and workout area,” Josh said, eying the area. “Set the salvageable stuff aside for the thrift shop; the rest we’ll trash.”

Steve boxed the glasses from the bar. No wonder the last owner had left them; they were mismatched commemorative glasses and truly ugly beer steins. “These are hideous,” Steve said, wrapping an oversized beer stein in paper before adding it to the box.

“Some people have more money than taste,” Josh said from the corner where he was measuring a wall. “My guess is the main part of the house was left to professionals and this stuff down here was the last owner’s true taste."

“The kitchen was nice.”

“I think that was Garth and Tim more than the last owners.”

“I doubt it was Timmy,” Steve said, making a face. “Did you see his pajamas? They looked like he belonged in an Egyptian harem.”

“Steve, that was unkind.”

“Well, they did.”

“Come here.” Josh pointed at the ground in front of his feet.

“No, you can’t get me in trouble for that.”

Josh pointed at the ground again. “Here. Now.”

Steve moved. He didn’t argue with Josh in that tone, especially when he could still feel the welts.

“Do I speak about people like that?” Josh asked, taking Steve’s chin in his hand.

“No, sir.” Steve managed to choke out. Interrogations like this always ended badly, and he was sore and in a stranger’s house.

“Timmy is a flamboyant sub. It’s different from what you are, but it doesn’t mean he’s a target for teasing. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir”

Josh tuned Steve and landed a swat on the boy’s hip. “That’s for not coming over when I asked. If I hear you making snide comments about Tim, I’ll spank you for real.”

“You caned me yesterday. This isn’t fair.” Steve felt a tear trickle down his cheek.

Josh reached out and touched the wetness on Steve’s cheek. “Playing sorry for yourself doesn’t fly with me, boy. You control this, and it’s perfectly fair.” Josh kissed Steve’s forehead. “Back to work with you. I’d like to make some progress today.”

Steve went back to his boxes. He was sore, and Josh was still mad at him. He absently rubbed his butt as he loaded the glasses. Those lines hurt. He couldn’t take a spanking today, but Josh didn’t make idle threats.

“So I see you’re hard at it.” Steve heard from the landing of the stairs. Timmy was dressed and peering down at them, one hand on his hip, gold chains swinging off his neck.

“Have you come to help or to mock?” Josh asked, not moving his eyes from a wall that he was dotting with precise pencil marks.

“It’s boring upstairs.” Tim sashayed down the stairs, his hips swaying in incredibly tight jeans. “I was hoping you’d be more exciting company.” Tim stepped too close to Josh, brushing up against the older top.

“Fuck, and I get in trouble for saying something about his pajamas. He’s practically slobbering on you.”

“Do you want to sit in the truck?” 

Josh’s tone was sweet, aggravatingly sweet and gentle. Steve wanted Josh’s hands on him, not fending off some slobbering playboy. 

“It’s fucking cold out there.” Steve knew the cursing would anger Josh. It was a hard rule about politeness and respect.

“Will you excuse us a moment.” Josh plucked Tim’s hand off where it was roaming across his chest. 

Josh strode toward Steve, who cringed and stepped back. He’d wanted the top’s attention, but Josh’s expression was glacial. “Walk with me. Don’t make me drag you.”

The basement was large, probably the size of the entire house. Josh escorted Steve into the utility area, not saying a word until they were surrounded by the water heater and the throbbing furnace. “Hands behind your back. Kneel.”

“I don’t kneel.” Steve wasn’t sure where the defiance came from. He didn’t talk back to Josh.

“Kneel, or I’ll spank you first, and then you can kneel.” Josh flicked his hand over Steve’s butt, touching several of the welts. “Down now.”

Steve dropped, his eyes down and his face hot.

“Good boy,” Josh’s hand was in Steve’s hair, soft, reassuring. “Deep breaths. Calm down. Do you want more? Do you need it more overt? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Josh rubbed the back of Steve’s neck. “Do you need me to spank you today? You’re sore. It’s not my first choice, but if that’s what you need, I’ll do it. I don’t think we’d be heard here.”

Steve started to speak and felt Josh’s finger on his lips.

“Quiet, boy. Think before you answer.” Josh continued to rub Steve’s neck.

Time seemed to stand still. The top’s hand felt good. Steve shut his eyes, and he could feel himself leaning into the contact. Steve shifted. The floor wasn’t carpeted, and his jeans pressed against his sensitive kneecaps. He should hate this, but Steve could feel his breathing slowing. It was tranquil, just Josh and the throb of the boiler.

“Better now?” Josh’s voice broke Steve’s trance. “Stand up.”

“Yes,” Steve said, surprised at his own response. “What did you do? That felt weird.”

“I dropped you for a minute.”

“Dropped?”

“That was subspace.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t this sort of sub.” Steve jammed his hands in his pockets and kicked at the cement floor. “I don’t want to be on my knees in some dirty bathroom.”

“I know,” Josh dropped his hand, heavy and comforting on Steve’s shoulder. “I would never ask or do that in public, and usually I couldn’t take you there, but you’re vulnerable today after yesterday. You’re more exposed to me, and you were heading toward a certain spanking. I’m not sure a spanking would be good for you this close to a caning.” Josh raised his eyebrows in question.

“I’m sore,” Steve said, letting himself lean into Josh’s solid frame.

“The physical reminder wasn’t keeping you on track. I didn’t think adding more would help.” Josh squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go deal with dear Timmy?”

“Can’t he go away?”

“It’s his house, and he’s feeling unsettled.”

“Why doesn’t Mr. Haversok do what you just did? The guy’s a dom, isn’t he?”

“Their relationship is their business. You’re my business, and I expect you to behave. I’ll deal with Timmy if I have to.”

Steve nodded.

Josh clicked his tongue. “Out loud.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, tiger. Let’s go get ‘em.”

Steve basked in the genuine smile he got from Josh. 

“Did you straighten out your boy?” Timmy asked from on top of the bar, where he’d draped himself, exposing selective pieces of flesh.

Steve bristled, but the light caress from Josh kept him quiet.

“You might need a larger water heater for the bathroom adjustments you’re planning. There's plenty of room to lay the pipe,” Josh said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Did Garth hire a bunch of prudes? It’s fucking obvious from the way your little boy is walking that he got whipped yesterday, and you just dragged him off in private, and it wasn’t to discuss water heater capacity.”

“Get off the counter,” Josh’s voice was a low growl and Steve found himself reviewing his behavior, even though it wasn’t directed at him. 

Tim slid off the counter but still slouched against it, a teasing grin on his face.

“You can either help, or you can go upstairs, but you may not sit here and make nasty comments. It’s rude, and I think you’ve been doing this long enough to know better. Now make your choice.” Josh was giving Tim the look that always made Steve’s stomach tighten and his palms sweat, a hair’s breadth from a boom falling on his head.

Tim lowered his eyes and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll behave.”

“I don’t do submissive posturing. Finish clearing the bar.” Josh turned on his heel and headed back to his measurements.

“Man, he’s good,” Tim said with a grin as he reached for a glass. “He scared the shit out of me without touching me.” Tim stuffed a few glasses in the box.

“Wrap them in paper, or Josh will make us do it again,” Steve said carefully wrapping his glass.

“They’re junk.” Tim waved his hands at the two remaining shelves “This is busy work; we might as well trash them all.”

“They’re going to the thrift store.”

“What did Josh do? Feed you good boy pills while you were out of sight?”

“Look, I don’t want trouble.” Steve ground his nails into his palm to keep from shouting. Raised voices would bring an unhappy Josh.

“Looks like you found trouble last night, or did you throw your back out?”

“Shut-up.”

“Or what—you’ll get master? Come on. I know what it’s like; it feels good to get real marks, and I bet you got some good ones. Garth’s been too busy to play,” Tim said wistfully.

“It wasn’t play,” Steve said, feeling the heat rising up his neck.

“You mean you do this shit twenty-four seven for real? Wow, man. That’s cool.”

“You don’t?” Steve asked, confused. “I thought you were a sub.”

“Only in scenes. Garth’s too busy for anything else. If I get him too mad, he might swat me before shutting the study door in my face but nothing else. So what’d you do?”

“Lied to him,” Steve said, shoving a glass in a box. “I don’t want to talk about it. I was horrible.”

“Being horrible is all part of the game. He seems to like you plenty.”

“It’s not a game.” Steve tucked his chin down in his collar and turned away. 

“So what did he do to you?” Tim said after a minute. “Belt or something?”

“Can we just drop it?”

“Come on, man. I’m a fellow sub. Subs talk. The doms know it. They wouldn’t let us be together if they wanted us all quiet and prim.”

“I’m not that sort of sub. It's not all just some big game.”

“You could have fooled me. You took a whipping, and you weren't playing.”

“It was punishment,” Steve said sharply. “We don’t get off on getting flayed on crosses.”

“You’ve missed half the fun,” Tim said with a cockeyed grin. “Nothing hotter than a dom in leather pants, holding a flogger. I get hard just thinking about it.”

“Jesus! Do you always talk about this kind of thing?”

“No,” Tim said with a shrug. “I can do normal things like football and the stock market, but this is more fun. We left all my friends in Oregon. I miss it, rattling around in this big house while Garth works. He lives with the phone attached to his ear. You’re lucky; when Josh looks at me I start to melt. So what did he use on you?”

“The cane.”

“Can I see?” Tim’s eyes sparkled like a kid in a candy store. “Garth doesn’t like the cane. Please, can I see?”

Steve looked over at Josh; he was at the far side of the room and the bar provided a visual shield. 

“Come on. He can’t see us.”

Steve didn’t know why he did it; it was a crazy thing to unbuckle his belt and push his trousers and boxers to his knees. But here he was crouched behind the bar, his striped ass hanging out.

“Wow! They’re beautiful. You’re damn lucky!”

“You’re crazy. They hurt like hell.” Steve jerked his pants back up, hissing as the material crossed the welts.

“It’d be worth it,” Tim said with a dreamy look on his face. 

“Boys, are you getting anything done?” Josh asked, leaning over the bar.

“We’re not fighting. Isn’t that an improvement?” Tim asked cheekily.

“Work and don’t fight, and I’ll be happy.”

“Picky.” Tim grinned.

“I’m here to work, not entertain you,” Josh said, picking up his tape measure, “and Steve’s supposed to be working also. He’s on the clock. Help him, or at least don’t distract him.”

“Garth would be happy to pay you to entertain me.” Tim didn’t get any further. They heard noises from above as he flew up the stairs. “Mitch, when did you get here? Did Toddie come?”

“He’s working. I just got in from the airport. So how’s my favorite sub?”

“Bored. I hate it here.”

“Who’s the guy glaring?”

“Carpenter. He’s working on the room.”

Mitch blanched and stepped back from Tim to create an acceptable social distance between the two. “Timmy,” he hissed.

“It’s OK. They know the score. Steve here even has the most lovely set of cane tracks.”

Steve felt himself turn red, and he would have fled if Josh hadn’t grabbed his arm and hauled him close. 

“How did Tim know?” Josh asked in a whisper.

“I showed him,” Steve said, burying his face in Josh’s shirt.

“Oh,” Josh said softly, his hand caressing Steve’s wavy hair.

“I don’t know why I showed him.”

“It’s your right. I’m not mad.”

“That’s a beautiful boy you have,” Mitch said, approaching Josh, one arm loosely wrapped around Tim, the other hand reaching out to touch Steve’s cheek.

“He’s not your type of boy,” Josh growled, tightening his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “He doesn’t play at being a sub, especially for strangers, and will you please inform Mr. Haversok that I do not tolerate unsolicited attention directed toward my apprentice. If he cannot control his friends in his own home, I will be forced to turn this job over to someone else.”

Mitch looked wide-eyed and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I misunderstood.”

Josh tilted his head. “I believe this time is a misunderstanding. I assume it won’t happen again. This is Boston, not Portland, and we obviously have different rules of decorum.”

“He does it twenty-four seven,” Tim said, nattering away and ignoring the frigid look he was getting from Josh. “He caned his boy for lying, not in a scene.”

“Tim be quiet.” Josh’s voice was soft, but there was no doubt it was an order. “Steve showed you something in private as one boy to another. It is beyond rude to tell others without his express permission. I have no authority over you. I don’t know your partner well; I have been granted no leave to interfere, but Steve is under my protection. Do nothing to hurt him.”

Tim looked shocked; his pale blue eyes were fixed on Josh’s face, and he nodded once vigorously before dropping his eyes to the floor.

“I’m not angry.” Josh dropped his voice to a reassuring level. “You didn’t know better, but now you do. I’m a Green Mountain Top; our rules are different. You’ve heard of us,” Josh said, taking in Mitch’s expression.

“I have, but Timmy doesn’t know. History is not his thing, and I doubt if Garth knows. He’s a natural, but he works very hard.”

“So, I’ve been told,” Josh said dryly. “It is your job as top, dom, or master to educate your boys. Uneducated they are unprotected. Tim seems genuinely fond of both you and Garth. Go get that man off the phone and tell him which way’s up before he loses his boy.”

Mitch looked at Garth and then at Steve. He’d stepped back a few paces during the lecture, and the words had shaken him. Steve watched, suddenly sympathetic. Josh and Milton could do this kind of thing. Say the most unexpected things to complete strangers.

“I’d do what he said. He’s usually right,” Steve said, the words tumbling out before he’d realized that he’d started to speak.

“I will,” Mitch said, turning back toward the stair, his arm still around Tim.

Josh watched silently until they disappeared up the stairs. “I’m sorry about that.” Josh turned and dropped a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “If I’d known Tom set me up to straighten out this lot I would never have brought you. I didn’t expect him to touch you.”

“It’s OK. It was interesting.”

“Interesting?” Josh’s eyes softened, and a flicker of amusement crossed his face.

“I don’t think they meant any harm, and Mitch is kind of cute.”

“Ah so you like tall, dark strangers with their hair in a pony tail. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Josh poked Steve in the ribs. “He had a ring, so I think he’s taken.”

“I didn’t mean like that,” Steve blushed. “How’d you notice the ring?”

“I’m a top; I’m supposed to notice especially when it’s my job to keep you safe, and I dropped you in the middle of I don’t know what. Let’s finish the measuring, and we can get out of here, hopefully before they all come back in force.”

Josh kept Steve close, having him measure and remeasure and then help with the destruction of a set of prefab cabinets along one wall. Swinging the crowbar and watching the wood splinter were fun. 

“How does Tim only sub in a scene? He feels—I'm dunno. He feels like a submissive,” Steve said, stretching his shoulders.

“Is that why you showed him the cane marks? Because he’s a fellow submissive?”

“I don’t know. He was curious. He was very impressed with your handiwork.”

“Humph,” Josh muttered. “If he felt it for real, it would probably lose its allure.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said softly, hefting the crowbar again.

“Stop fretting.” Josh squeezed Steve’s neck. “I’ll help them if they ask. I don’t play their way, and I'm not into fetishes, but I do know boys. We’re done here. Go on out to the truck while I say my goodbyes.”

*************

Josh had to open several doors before he found the study. Garth was on the phone, speaking in what Josh thought was German. Tilden would have known for sure and probably been able to translate. Tim had climbed up in Mitch’s lap. Mitch gave Josh a guilty smile, but didn’t move Tim.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Josh said, trying to put Mitch at ease. The man radiated comfort, which was a good sign for a top. “I came to let Mr. Haversok know we were done for the day, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted us back. I left the plans with my annotations downstairs, and we’ve cleaned up.”

“Stay a minute,” Mitch said.

“Steve’s in the truck. It’s cold.”

Mitch stood up, slid Tim from his lap, reached for the phone, and said something incomprehensible in German before hanging up. “OK. I think you need to tell Garth what you told me.”

Josh rested his hands on his hips and studied the dom. He was good looking, and his expression was open and questioning despite Josh’s mildly belligerent body language and his friend hanging up on a business call. Garth reached for Tim and drew him close, his sub taking obvious pleasure in the contact. 

“How well do you know Tom?”

“Mostly business, but we’ve met socially several times, and he’s aware of my relationship with Timmy as I’m aware of his relationship with Carl,” Garth said, his voice urbane and calm.

“Have you played together?”

“No, and I hardly see how that is your business.” A slight edge had crept into Garth’s voice.

“Tom is aware of my role in the Green Mountain Boys, and I think I as well as you have been set up.”

“How do you mean?” Josh could see the calculations running behind Garth’s quiet eyes.

“He knows several people who could do this work and be discreet. The woods you want are beautiful, but the construction isn’t difficult, but Tom wanted more than a carpenter. He wanted someone to interfere in your relationship with your partner.”

“What?” Garth said, his calm fading. “Our relationship is no one’s business.”

“I’m a Green Mountain Boy. It’s my business.”

“You’re a what?”

“It’s an organization that celebrates the power exchange. One of their tenets is education and mentoring of new couples,” Mitch said. “I’ve never met one, but I’ve heard of them. I think they are headquartered in Vermont.”

“That is correct,” Josh said.

“And you think Tim and I need mentoring?” Garth said, a tight smile playing on his lips. “That’s presumptuous of you. You hardly know us.”

“Your boy needs a twenty-four seven top, not a dom to play with, no matter how skillful that dom, and I have no reason to doubt your skill except with the cane.”

“Canes are barbaric,” Garth shot back.

“Not if done right, and I do them right. Implements aren’t important; it’s philosophy that is. Your boy needs structure and guidance. Play is fine, but he needs more. I can show you, but it’s not easy, and you cannot shut yourself in the study with your phone.”

“You are a presumptuous bastard.”

“Perhaps, but I’m also right. You have my number. Think about it and good luck.” Josh turned and left the study. He hoped Garth would call. Steve had liked Tim, liked him well enough to share secrets. The larger Steve’s circle of friends, the more likely the right top would show up. Josh needed to transfer those ties and connections from himself before they couldn’t break them. Here he was giving advice, and he was sinking deeper into his own quagmire.