Steve's Tale 10

Steve’s Tale

Chapter 10

Miles looked at himself in the small bathroom mirror. He didn’t look too awful--well, except for the strangulating tie. No, who was he kidding? They’d know immediately that he had a face down look at the floor and a close up view of Josh’s pants. Miles flinched at the knock. Did someone need the bathroom?

“Are you all right?” It was Josh, his voice pitched to a smooth calm.

“Yes,” Miles said, visibly composing himself in the mirror and unlocking the door.

“Really?” Josh asked, easily catching Miles’s shoulder and turning the younger man to face him.

“I’ll be OK,” Miles said, conversely both wanting to pull away and wanting Josh to pull him closer.

“You’ll be OK,” Josh said, immediately picking up on the change of tense. “Can I do something to help?”

“I think you’ve already done that,” Miles said with a shaky smile. “I need to sort everything out in my mind.”

“Miles, you are not alone. At least talk to Simon, he’s been on both ends of these relationships, sometimes fairly and sometimes not so fairly. He can help you understand this.”

“I will.” Miles drew a long breath and forced his shoulders down and back. He needed to get his act together for Steve.

“Ah, drawing the mantle of a top back around yourself.” Josh smiled gently and squeezed Miles’s shoulder. “They’ll know. Steve will know; he’s been around me too long not to know, but that’s OK. It’s not unusual in this group, and Steve will not be judgmental. He’ll be sympathetic; he’s been over my knee a few too many times.”

“I’m supposed to be the top in this relationship.”

“A good top takes direction and understands when it’s necessary to submit. You are instinctively a very good top, only a little sketchy on the implementation sometimes.” Josh smiled as if to take any possible sting out of his words. “It doesn’t make you less of a top to absorb instruction from someone who’s made all the mistakes already.”

“Absorb, that’s a unique way of putting it,” Miles said with a wry smile.

“Do you prefer imprinted?”

“How about scorched?”

“Ouch. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Miles smiled and reached around and placed his hand on his butt. “It’s at the simmer stage now. I was at fry.”

Josh raised an eyebrow and smiled. “In a submissive, that’s called bratty or cheeky. In a top, I call it rash.”

“Can we call it hungry?”

“Ah, the low blood sugar defense. Steve hasn’t tried that one yet.”

“He'd try that? For real?”

“You haven’t been around Sheldon nearly enough. You must have him teach you the naughty boy's thousand and one excuses. Of course he now may be up to a million and one.”

“You’re scaring me now,” Miles said with a grin.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. Sheldon and Blade together make me look over my shoulder for reinforcements. Milton is good, really good. I’d kill one of those two if I had to live with them all the time. Probably Blade, as Sheldon does truly understand himself.”

“Will I survive this dinner?”

“I believe that Milton suggested we might need helmets and raincoats.” Josh squeezed Miles’s shoulder. “I should be safe; they’ll be gunning for you. Sheldon likes to test out the new tops.”

“Why do I have a feeling you think this is funny?” Miles asked, arching his eyebrows.

“Kid, you have to get used to top humor. I’m going to be able to enjoy my dinner while you will be parrying red-headed fiends. I’m looking forward to it. Finally the privilege of being in the older generation.”

“Sounds great,” Miles said sarcastically. “I can’t wait.”

“Kid, don’t worry. We’ll have your back. Milton will be watching out for you, and I’m sure he’s threatened all kinds of dreadful and imaginative outcomes if the Zath boys get too out of hand. I had a little chat with Steve about throwing a match in smoldering flames.” Josh put his hand on the small of Miles’s back. “Put your game face on. We can’t hide out here any longer.”

The kitchen was full. Miles wasn’t exactly sure how everyone had fit into the space. Trent and Mace had co-opted nearly everyone into an assembly line of kitchen help. Steve was icing the cupcakes and eating more frosting than was going on the individual cakes.

“Frosting before dinner,” Josh said in a tone that Miles now recognized was as much scolding as teasing. “Comfort and familiarity,” Josh whispered in Miles’s ear before turning back to Steve. “They should have put you on the vegetables. They wouldn’t have disappeared before dinner.”

“Cupcakes are more fun.” Steve licked the knife and grinned at Josh.

“No more.” Josh took the bowl with a practiced reach, landing a sharp swat on the way. “What needs done?”

“We were just waiting for you,” Mace said in a slow drawl, his eyes mostly on Miles. “We were beginning to think this was going to be a midnight buffet. Josh tends to be very thorough during certain discussions.”

“Mace,” Trent and Milton said together.

Miles could feel the flush creeping up his neck. They knew. They all knew. 

“Mace, those are my lines,” Sheldon said, barreling around the kitchen table with an empty pitcher. “I filled the water glasses like a good boy, and I nearly missed all the fun.” Sheldon hooked an arm around Miles and pulled him close. “Stop looking like you just got smote by a bolt of lightning. You’re not the first guy here to end up with a bare ass over Josh’s knee, not even the first top.”

“No that honor I think belongs to me,” Trent said, looking as red as Miles felt. “Public bathroom no less.” Trent grinned. “It sorted me right out, and I never go in a bathroom with Josh, much too dangerous.”

“I hope you learned more from it than I’m a dangerous bathroom companion,” Josh said. “Otherwise we might need a repeat lesson.”

“I would suggest we all stop picking on the top with control of the oven if anyone wants to eat,” Trent said, brandishing the oven mitt. “Behave or no dinner.”

“Settle,” Milton said, drawing himself to his full height and effortlessly commanding the kitchen. “I believe a certain level of politeness is expected in this household.” With stunning efficiency, he cleared the kitchen, leaving only Simon, Miles, himself, and a pile of dirty pans. “Do you two need a few minutes? I’m sure I can find some project to keep everyone busy.”

“Miles?” Simon asked softly.

Miles turned the bracelet on his wrist, he’d thought it was bad when all the guys had been joking and teasing. This was worse, under the close and sympathetic scrutiny of Milton and Simon. 

“It will get better.” Milton swept Miles into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head. “I’m young enough still to remember being in your shoes, to remember Gordon dragging me out for a wee little chat. Someday I’ll only remember it fondly, or so I’ve been told, but right now some of the memories still sting. You and Simon take all the time you need. I’ll divert the natives with salad and bread.” Milton kissed Miles’s forehead and pushed him toward Simon.

Miles stood in the now empty kitchen, surrounded by the detritus of too many men making dinner, feeling strangely unhinged. He wasn’t a sub; he knew he wasn’t a sub, but he’d just let Milton hug him and kiss his forehead, and perversely he’d enjoyed it. He’d gone over Joshua’s knee with hardly a whimper of protest and then snuggled up against him happy as a proverbial clam.

“Are you OK?” Simon asked softly, tracing his finger over Miles’s cheekbone. 

Miles shrugged. “Shit! I don’t know.”

Simon dropped his arms around Miles and pulled him close. “Did you just fall down the rabbit hole?” he asked in Miles’s ear.

“Shit! I let Josh spank me.”

“I wouldn’t swear here. It’s probably on their list of things that guests don’t do.”

“I’m not fucking joking.” Miles wheeled around and glared at Simon.

“Easy. Was it all that bad?” 

“No, that’s the thing,” Miles choked, letting himself be pulled backed into Simon’s arms.

“Shh. I’ve got you. It’s all right to give up that control sometimes, to drop the burden on them. They’re masters at it. They worked this together. You didn’t roll over and submit to some random asshole off the street. This is not shameful or weak. This is one man accepting and welcoming the counsel of another. It takes courage to yield, especially after fighting it so hard. To admit an error is far more courageous than perpetuating the error.”

“I went over his knee like a lamb,” Miles mumbled, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“I hardly believe that. Milton and Josh worked very hard all afternoon to get you to that point. They are very good. The best I’ve ever seen.”

“You knew they were manipulating me!” Miles jerked in Simon’s grasp, but Simon didn’t let go this time.

“They manipulated both of us. That’s what good tops do, and Milton is a very good top. The best. He had me by the third word out of his mouth.”

“I shouldn’t be susceptible,” Miles said through gritted teeth.

“Stop it.” Simon’s tone was sharp, and his hand was quick, landing on Miles’s still sore butt. “We are in a power exchange relationship. It is not wrong to submit, and you and Josh looked more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Miles whispered. It felt like a confession. Over Josh’s knee had been solid, safe, and very clear.

“Miles.” Simon stroked Miles’s check. “It’s all right to want that sometimes. It doesn’t make you less of a top or make you weak. It makes you human.”

“I let him spank me.”

“Yes,” Simon said gently, “It’s a ritual of redemption, comfort, and forgiveness. I should have done it for you. I’m sorry.”

Miles heard the strain in Simon’s voice. “No,” he said quickly, hooking his arms around Simon’s broad shoulders and shifting instinctively to the role of the comforter. “I never asked you to.”

“And you asked Josh?”

“Not exactly in words.” Miles felt himself flush. He’d done damn near everything else as Josh had so thoughtfully pointed out. He might as well have worn a sign that said he was a spinning top. Did tops spin? It had seemed so clear over Josh’s lap, and now it was all in chaos again.

“I’ve done that a few times.” Simon voice was warm, deep, and infused with humor. “David used to joke that I ought to send him a note. It would save everybody a lot of effort.”

“Oh, shit!” Miles couldn’t stop the laughter that was bubbling up in his chest. “Please good sir, drinks and spanking, my house at six. I’ll be properly attired.”

“Miles.” Simon captured Miles’s mouth in his own, kissing him fiercely and cutting off the near hysterical laughter. “My confused baby top. It’ll be all right.”

“God! I’m all over the place. Why can’t I get a handle on myself?” Miles shook his head in disgust, catching his braid as it came across his shoulder. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re my mess,” Simon said and kissed Miles’s forehead.

“Enough! My temple’s going to be chapped.” Miles wiped his hand across his forehead and made a wry face. “Is this a top thing that I have to do? Kiss everybody on the forehead.”

“It’s pretty common for us tops,” Simon said, his eyes bright with merriment as he bent to kiss Miles again.

“Stop.” Miles danced out of Simon’s arms and landed a sharp swat on his partner’s hip. “I’ve been kissed, hugged, and swatted enough for one day.”

“Hey.” Simon squeezed Miles’s shoulder, his eyes suddenly serious. “It’s OK to feel topsy-turvy.” Simon’s voice had dropped to a soft tone that Miles had to struggle to hear.  “I’m a top; I understand it doesn’t always feel right to hand off that control, to give into someone even when that someone is right. I didn’t do a good job mentoring you. I fell in love with you, and I was too wrapped up in my own problems. I couldn’t take someone over my knees.” Simon’s voice faltered, and he swallowed hard. “I kept seeing Sam. It was always Sam who was draped over my knee. I’m sorry.”

“Simon.” Miles threaded his slim fingers into Simon’s heavy hand and squeezed. “My Simon. I love you.” Miles grinned, breaking the seriousness of the moment. “But you don’t get to spank me at will. Occasionally maybe, but I rather like this no spanking thing.”

“Me too,” Simon said, his tone still serious. “I’m not a Milton; his lifestyle would exhaust me. With two tops, I can sit in front of the TV and eat potato chips while you deal with wild Steve. It will be refreshing.” Simon shot Miles a wide boyish grin. “Nope, a few small tantrums don’t get you out of this top thing.”

Miles tried to smile. He needed to fake that he was OK. God, he felt anything but OK. He didn’t know if he could do this. Maybe he wasn’t a top. They kept saying he was, but he’d gone over Josh’s knee without serious protest. Maybe they were all screwed up. Maybe he was a brat. He needed to pull himself together. They had already held up dinner.

“What are you thinking?” Simon’s voice was soft again, all sounds of kidding gone.

“Nothing. I’m just being stupid.” Miles rolled the bracelet around his wrist, focusing on the glass beads.

Simon made a throat clearing noise, a very top sounding cough that jerked Miles’s eyes up. “Tell me, Miles.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Miles.” The warning was abundantly clear. Simon was looming, his thick arms crossed on his chest.

“What if I’m not a top? What if I’m a sub? I told you it was stupid,” Miles said and started to turn away from Simon.

“Don’t.” The tone was jolting and froze Miles. This was a top’s voice; a tone he rarely heard from Simon. “You are a top of that I have no doubt, but being a top doesn’t mean going it alone or refusing to ask for help. It doesn’t mean you never yield to someone with more experience or a different outlook. You are not a top in the Josh or Milton mold.  I’m not either, maybe closer than you, but I don’t want that much control. I’m not that intense. I can do it for short spells if I need to, but it’s not the way I want to live. I love you; I want to care for you. That’s my top side. Steve wants to be cared for; he wants to be reined in sometimes too. I can do that for him and so can you. Someday he'll want to enjoy his submission also. He doesn't know how to do that yet, but we'll teach him. Maybe sometimes you want to be reined in a bit also or have someone to lean on. That doesn’t make you a submissive. It makes you Miles, and I love that side of Miles. If I wanted a perfect, never failing top, I wouldn’t have married you. I wanted Miles, the guy who cares enough to try to hold the scatterbrains of your family together and is soft hearted enough that he’s going to struggle when he has to pull Steve over his knee.”

“I liked it when Josh pulled me over his knee.” Miles stared at Simon, trying to read his lover’s expression. “I felt better, better than I’ve felt for weeks.”

“Miles, the fact he made you feel better doesn’t make you a brat. You were at war with Josh. He found the release valve and let you reset the relationship. That doesn’t make you less of a top.”

“I think I need that occasionally,” Miles said softly, wanting to bury himself in Simon’s neck, but instead studying his partner’s face.

“I can do that for you,” Simon said with a soft smile. “As your mentor, I was supposed to be doing it.”

“What if I need more?”

“Do you mean what if you’re a switch?”

Miles nodded. “I sometimes want to do those things, the brat things.”

“Because you sometimes want to be young and silly doesn’t make you a switch. Because your fashion sense is different than Milton’s and Josh’s doesn’t make you a switch. And we’ll manage it if you are.”

“What about Steve?”

“Steve isn’t brainless. He’ll learn to read the signs. But I wouldn’t worry. I’m not an expert on switches, but I believe you are a young and inexperienced top. Landing those worries and fears on someone else’s shoulders feels good. David did it for me. I miss him.” Simon’s voice became wistful. “It’s why I need to settle the score.”

“Will they hurt you?”

“I lied to them. I’ll take my licks, and it will be over. It doesn’t have to involve you.”

“You lied to them for me. I would have fled if they’d started interrogating me. I couldn’t have coped then.”

“Neither could I, but I should have. It was my responsibility, and I’ll clear it up. You have enough to sort out.”

“You’re topping me now,” Miles said not sure if he should be angry or relieved. 

“Yes, a little. How do you feel about it?”

Miles twisted the beads strung around his wrist, his long, thin fingers tapping on the counter. “I’m not sure,” Miles finally said.

Simon smiled, his blue eyes softening. “No, I don’t think you’re in any danger of being a brat or even a switch. You’re a top through and through. Brats specialize in telling you they’re fine when they are falling apart at the seams.” 

“Know thyself top or something,” Miles said sarcastically. “I’m supposed to know my own feelings, but I wasn’t allowed to know I was in love with you.”

“Miles, we’ll talk about it later.” Simon’s voice had a tone of finality that Miles had heard him use several times with Steve and which always brought Steve to a dead halt. Go further and there will be consequences.

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m suggesting we eat dinner before we have every top in the state in here. We can discuss my relationship with the Green Mountain Boys later. Right now I want to know if you’re OK. It’s been less than a half hour that you were over Josh’s knees, and now you have to sit down and eat a civilized dinner.”

“Shit if I know,” Miles said with an expressive shrug. “Aren’t I supposed to know those kind of things? You know, being a top and all.”

“No.” Simon grimaced. “We’re supposed to fake it. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I don’t get the impression Milton fakes much. Waves of top power roll off him. I can’t decide if I should bow down, run away, or call for reinforcements.”

“He intimidates me, and I’ve been around some strong tops. That man is not normal. Maybe he’s an alien?” Simon said with a laugh.

“Are you sure you haven’t been imbibing some secret stash. I’m sure Milton’s not civilized enough to offer you a beer.”

“Blade and Steve are underage; he wouldn’t serve alcohol. I doubt they even have any alcohol here. The rumor is Blade is very difficult, and I expect Milton removes all temptation. It’s part of his style of topping.”

“He really works at this.” Miles wasn’t sure if he was impressed or slightly fearful of the idea. He loved Steve; he knew that. He couldn’t get that lithe figure out his mind, the incredible trust when Steve would throw himself at Miles, his body and mind pliable to Miles’s will, the flashes of zany humor and mercurial temperament. He’d not seen Steve flip, but he’d seen Josh stare him down until Steve dropped his eyes and swallowed hard, a slight flush on his pale skin. Miles had scolded Steve a few times; the boy just brought that side out in him, but he hadn’t done more, and Simon had been there: big, solid, and supporting. Simon knew how to do this if it got out of hand.

“He’s very good at it.”

“It’s so autocratic. It doesn’t feel fair.”

“Miles, there are many styles of topping. I didn’t marry Milton or Josh; I married you.”

“Will it be enough?”

“Will it be enough to manage Steve? He knows you’re not Josh or Milton. He’ll figure out where your limits are. Mine are a little tighter, and that’s fine.”

“I can’t be one of them.”

“If you tried, I’d have your head examined. I’d think you’d switched bodies or something.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time watching bad sci-fi--body switching, aliens. I’m going to have to take the TV away.”

“Top,” Simon said with a laugh. “Come on; let’s eat dinner.”

Miles tried to meet all those pairs of eyes as he walked in the dining room. Simon appeared totally unruffled by those frank stares. Milton’s eyes were careful and appraising behind his glasses. He nodded at both of them as if to ask silently if all was well. Simon nodded back, and Miles managed a slight smile. Miles slipped into the seat between Steve and Josh. It was either sit next to Josh or on the other side of Steve next to Sheldon. Miles didn’t feel up to Sheldon who as they watched reached across and snagged a radish off Steve’s salad.

“Boy, I thought you were serving the food, not stealing it,” Simon said, swatting him lightly across the back of his head.

“It’s more fun to steal it, sir,” Sheldon said, putting a sarcastic emphasis on sir as he snatched a cherry tomato from Simon’s salad.

“Sheldon,” Milton warned.

“Well, I can’t serve the next course until they eat their salad. I was just helping them out.” Sheldon snagged a piece of lettuce, jerking his hand back as Simon whacked him with the fork. “Ouch! That wasn’t nice.” Sheldon rubbed his wrist with an exaggerated pout.

“Those eyes might work with some, but I’ve been around the block. Hands off my food.”

“You’re no fun,” Sheldon whined and made a grab across the table for the roll on Blade’s plate.

“Don’t.” Milton caught Sheldon’s wrist. He didn’t say anything more, but something in his stern expression must have been a signal to Sheldon because he dropped his eyes and settled back in his chair when Milton released his wrist. “Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.” The words were very sincere with none of the earlier brashness he’d shown with Simon.

“Boys, the next course,” Milton said, sounding every bit like a lord ordering his peasants to fall at his feet.

Sheldon and Blade carried in the food, making a credible effort as waiters except Blade kept dropping plates with enough force that the silverware rattled. Miles tried to study the food. It looked good, leg of lamb with mashed potatoes and a vegetable medley. Miles liked good food, and at least eating he wouldn’t have to look at all those eyes around the table that were too concerned and too sympathetic.

“More bread, sir?” Sheldon asked with a wide grin, offering the basket. “Are you OK?” he added in a whisper. “Mace’s rolls are excellent. They are not to be missed,” Sheldon said in a normal voice.

Miles took a wheat roll and murmured a soft, “Thanks.” He hoped that Sheldon would realize the thanks was for more than the roll. Sheldon nodded, his green eyes sympathetic.

Miles sliced his meat and soaked it in the gravy. It was good, perfectly cooked and seasoned lightly with rosemary and thyme. Steve diced his food into minuscule pieces, but had eaten little.

“Are you not hungry?”

“It’s lamb,” Steve said, making a face. 

Steve had a limited repertoire of food. If it wasn’t on the menu of the local fast food joint, Steve didn’t eat it. He’d blanched at some of the foods Miles’s liked. He’d braved the bread and the lassi when they went out for Indian food, but looked at curry as if it were toxic.

“Baa,” Blade said, forking up a large piece of meat. “Just think of the cute little fur balls galloping across the hillside.”

“Blade, the water glasses need refilled,” Milton said.

“What else does your highness want? Should I bring the vegetables in one zucchini slice at a time, or maybe I should crawl with the food?”

“Do you wish to eat dinner at my feet?” Milton asked, his eyebrows rising into his hairline.

“You’re all over me about everything, and Steve’s turning his food into ground mash. I can’t breathe without you telling me to take my elbows off the table or use the right fork.”

“Blade, you are the only one shouting. Perhaps that is the cause of your feelings of persecution. Do you want this to go further, or will you get the water?”

“Fuck the water!”

“Excuse us, gentlemen.” Milton stood up and reached toward Blade who had turned red and then a frightening shade of white as he’d realized he’d gone too far.

“Please. I’ll be good. Don’t spank me.”

“Blade, now.” Milton snapped his fingers.

Blade blinked back tears, but he moved toward Milton, his large green eyes pleading. Miles moved his meat on the plate. He didn’t want to watch. Blade had been being smart, but he was a kid, and he was clearly upset. 

“Milton’s good with him.” Josh squeezed Miles’s knee. 

“Do you need more butter?” Trent asked, holding up the plate.

“I’m fine,” Miles said, knowing full well that the butter was a ploy to keep him occupied.

“Do you work at the bar with Simon?” Tilden asked, reaching to take the butter plate himself.

“He works behind the bar,” Simon said. “He rakes in twice as many tips as I do. It must be his good looks.”

“I can see that,” Jer said, a grin on his broad face. “They’re probably afraid to ask you for more than a soda. Miles doesn’t look like he’ll give you a lecture on the dangers of alcohol.”

“Miles is worse than me about unattended submissives. He has a mother hen complex. They all pour out their woes to him.”

“I don’t scare them to death,” Miles said, listening for sounds from the kitchen. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew they were trying to distract him from whatever Milton was doing.

“Sounds like Tilden.” Mike said. “He’s the one who gets to break all the awful things to Milton. We all figure Milton won’t kill another top.”

“And have you been doing something I need to know about, Misha?” Tilden asked, a slight smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

“No, I’m the perfect angel.”

“Why do I see horns and not a halo?” Sheldon asked, tossing a piece of roll at Mike’s head.

“Boys,” several of the tops said together.

Tilden caught Mike’s hand as he reached to retaliate. “Food stays on the table. I assume you would prefer not to join Blade in the kitchen.”

“He threw a roll at me,” Mike protested.

“A piece of roll. Don’t exaggerate.”

“This isn’t fair. I’m being harangued, and he’s getting off scot free.”

“I hardly think he’s had an easy day today,” Tilden said calmly. “Milton’s had him pretty close all day, and I think Josh just about stared holes through him for the flying roll. He has been over Josh’s knee. He knows Josh doesn’t mess around.”

“No, I don’t,” Josh said, buttering his roll. “If I see one more food missile, Sheldon, the culprit will not get a free pass. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Sheldon said, lowering his eyes to his dinner.

“Yes?” Joshua echoed, clearly expecting more.

“Yes, sir,” Sheldon mumbled.

“Thank you, boy.” 

Miles thought he saw Sheldon flinch at the use of boy; Miles knew he did. Sheldon had to be in his early thirties; he was hardly a boy, even if he did have wild streak.

“Sheldon, I know,” Josh said softly, “but you’re serving tonight. You and Blade are being the boys tonight.”

Sheldon nodded, ducking his head to his chest, a bright flush rising up his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“I know you are. I don’t really care about the roll. I do care that you don’t start heading for more trouble. I know your personality. Mike and Steve have similar dispositions. You guys like each other, but its a volatile mix. It can be like  like holding a match to gasoline. Controlled fire makes the car run, but too much and there’s an explosion. Milton’s doing a lot tonight to try to keep you out of trouble, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’s out of the room. Don’t let him down. You’ll be miserable if you do. I’ve known you for a long time, almost as long as Milton. I know what that kind of thing does to you.”

“I know,” Sheldon said, his eyes still down on his plate. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Josh said sharply. “You can brat; none of us will argue with that, but you are also a wonderful partner who’s feeling a little stressed. Milton was dealing with it by making you scurry here and there. Now that you have some peace, relish the chance to eat some dinner, instead of goading me into dealing with you. There are a lot of tops here.” Josh looked around the table. “We can all deal with you if need be. I can even press Miles into action.”

Don’t, Miles thought. He might feel sorry for Sheldon and Blade, but he was very glad they were Milton’s problems. An hour alone with either of them would drive him to the bottle.

“I wouldn’t be that cruel,” Sheldon said with a genuine smile. “I’ll at least let him dangle his toes in the water before I throw him in the deep end, but all tops in our family have to deal with me at least once or twice. It’s a rite of passage.”

“It’s a curse or a Herculean task,” Milton said from the doorway, his arm wrapped snugly around Blade who looked slightly pale but otherwise unharmed. “Miles might prefer to clean the Augean stables without the help of Hercules and his diverted rivers.”

“I’m not that bad,” Sheldon said in a voice that made him sound impossibly young.

“Not bad, sweetheart. Just bratty, and you can be the quintessential brat. I would be committing perjury to say otherwise.”

“You like this way.”

“Yes, I do; I love you, Sheldon. Do I want to ask what went on when I was out of the room?”

“Probably not,” Josh said.

“That bad?”

“No, I didn’t get as far as threatening to make every submissive bend over the table for a few swipes with the cane, tempting as it may have been.”

“That’s harsh. It wasn’t that bad,” Sheldon said, giving Josh a pleading look. Miles couldn’t tell whether Sheldon was teasing or truly worried.

“Only the imminent threat of a food fight.”

“Boys.” Mike and Sheldon both flushed. “Ah, why am I’m not surprised at who were the two culprits?” Milton said, surveying the table. “Well, at least I see no evidence.” He kissed the top of Blade’s head. “Go finish your dinner. This was one act of mayhem that you weren’t involved in.”

“It wasn’t mayhem.” Sheldon protested.

“Only because there are enough tops here to sink a battleship.” Milton smiled. “Josh was here. He has about a two millimeter tolerance level for less than civilized behavior, so it couldn’t have been too bad.”

“One millimeter tolerance,” Sheldon shot back with an easy grin on his face. “I can’t breathe without him being all over me.”

“You like it that way,” Milton said and tousled Sheldon’s hair. “Keep the reins short, or we do disaster mitigation.”

“Agh! You don’t have to advertise it.” Sheldon reddened to the roots of his hair.

“Honey, it’s not a secret. Everyone here is practiced at this except for Miles, and he’s getting a crash course. We don’t hide who we are; you know that.”

Sheldon leaned into Milton, who was still standing behind him, and looked up, his green eyes searching Milton’s face before his face relaxed into a shy, embarrassed smile. 

“My good boy.” Milton bent down, and his lips touched Sheldon’s forehead. “My best boy.”

Miles watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the easy and sincere sharing of affection. Milton was autocratic, rigid, and from what Miles had seen brutally honest to the point of embarrassment for his partner, but there was no doubt that Sheldon adored him, and the feeling was mutual. Sheldon had responded to Josh, even appeared to like Josh, but between Milton and Sheldon there was an almost visible bond; they fit together like they had always been together.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Josh whispered in Miles’s ear. 

Would he ever have that? Steve was a gorgeous kid with the sweetest smile, and God, Miles wanted that. He wanted to love every fiber of Steve’s body, but it was awkward and jumbled. He’d didn’t want to dictate Steve’s life or control his every move right down to the color of his shirt. Discipline was scary, not easy and natural. He’d have to do more than warn Steve or swat his butt.

“You’ll find your way, kid” Josh squeezed Miles’s knee. “We’ll help, but every road is different.”

Shit! How had Josh known? Was nothing secret from him?

“Eat your dinner.” Josh tapped pointedly at Miles’s plate.

He wasn’t Josh’s boy. His dinner wasn’t Josh’s affair.

“I know you’re not my submissive, but eat anyway. I’ve trained a few tops in my time. You will be fine.”

Ugh! That man was infuriating. Josh had leaned back toward Jer, too far away for Miles to carry on any sort of conversation without being heard. Simon was looking at Miles, his eyebrow raised, clearly wondering about the whispered words. “Fine,” Miles mumbled more at Simon than Josh and scooped up a forkful of potatoes. 

Miles concentrated on the food. It was safe and undemanding. The food didn’t ask him questions. He could just be a guy eating.

“Gentlemen,” Milton said, standing at his place at the table, his hand resting possessively on Sheldon’s head. “Tonight we want to welcome Miles, Simon, and Steve to our family. Steve has already been a part of this family, sometimes more willingly than others, but I want to reiterate his beaus inclusion in our merry band. We are proud and happy to call all three of you family. Please know we will be here for you any time.”

“Also know as family the tops will pry every last detail out of you about things you’d rather not talk about. They consider it a duty,” Sheldon said, ducking as Milton slapped the back of his head. “It’s true; you know it,” Sheldon added laughing.

“As my partner so ungraciously added, we do tend to be engaged within the family.”

“It’s a small penalty for the unfailing support,” Mace said, his drawl thicker than usual, a faint flush on his cheeks. “It helps.”

That was one of the sensible ones. Why was he talking now? He looked embarrassed, but very sincere.

“We’ll get dessert.” Trent draped an arm around Mace’s shoulders, and they both rose. The awkwardness of the moment was lost in the clatter of dishes and renewed chatter as Blade and Sheldon started to clear. 

Miles glanced around the table. Luke, his blond curls half hiding his face, had melted against Tilden. Mike on Tilden’s other side was fidgeting, folding the napkin into intricate shapes, and he probably would have gotten up if Tilden didn’t have a restraining hand on his wrist. Jer and Josh were talking about something in between Josh’s none to covert glances at Miles. Simon had pulled Steve over into his lap, and they were comfortably whispering together. For a moment, Miles envied their ease. Simon was so naturally tactile, as was Steve. They flowed together. Steve would curl up against Miles, but Miles always felt like a bit of a fraud. He didn’t drape himself over others like it was second nature. He wanted to laugh at himself or maybe berate himself. He wore the clothes that screamed young, bohemian and willing to be different, and he hid his feelings far more than the old stuffed shirts.

Miles flinched as an arm landed around his neck and tugged him to his feet. He’d been lost in thought and hadn’t noticed Milton move behind him. He was unceremoniously and more firmly than Miles was entirely comfortable with pulled into Milton’s lap as the older top confiscated Miles’s chair.

“Relax. I’m not planning on letting you up. This is one of the penalties of the family thing,” Milton said in Miles’s ear. “I saw you watching Steve and Simon. The dining room furniture isn’t stout enough for all three of you, and you looked like you might need a small hug. We’ve been all over you today. It’s OK to feel a little beat up.”

And it’s not OK to struggle, Miles thought as Milton tightened his arms.

“Tops get comfort too. It’s not just for submissives. Sit still and enjoy it.”

Miles wasn’t sure if the last was a threat or not. He didn’t do this with Simon. The closest they got was lying together on the sofa with the lights off and a movie on the TV. And that was different. It usually degenerated into wrestling and something that required far fewer clothes, at least not a fully buttoned shirt and a tie.

“Better, hmm?”

It was better. Milton had maneuvered Miles so most of the weight was off his still tender butt, and Milton’s chest was wide enough for easy leaning.

“This is part of being in the family. You get this, but you also get me harassing the life out of you. It’s a packaged deal. And you get two Zath boys bound and determined to make your life living hell as a free bonus.” Milton’s voice was warm with humor. “I get an extra authority figure. It works out beautifully.”

Miles didn’t even flinch when Milton kissed the back of his neck.

Milton snorted. “Baby tops. They are worth it, but a lot of work.” Milton held Miles snuggly, his free hand rubbing Miles’s shoulders and neck. “Baby tops,” he repeated. “They’ll be the death of me.”