Steve's Tale 4

Chapter IV

Steve looked down at the book in front of him. He was supposed to be reading it. Josh had twice left him alone with it only to discover Steve hadn’t opened it, so now Steve was reading aloud. At least Garth had come back from Germany, and Tim was home with his dysfunctional top. Garth was incompetent; he couldn’t even get the simplest rules straight. Tim prowled around the house all night and looked leaden-eyed all day. According to the tweets he sent Steve, Tim often didn’t get up to late afternoon. Josh had sorted Tim onto a morning schedule the few days he’d lived with them.

“Steve, read to me.”

“Oh, yes, dear captain,” Steve mouthed under his breath. 

“Read or stand in the corner. Which will it be?” 

Josh was standing at Steve’s elbow. He’d tow Steve to the nearest corner if Steve didn’t start reading. It wasn’t like it was a surprise; Steve had spent in inordinate amount of time in corners the last week.

“Steve, sweetheart,” Jer said softly and painfully kindly from the sink where he was drying the last of the dishes.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Karl and his precious mare. I don’t like horses and--.” Steve didn’t get any further. Josh picked him up by his shirt collar, landed a flurry of hard slaps on the back of his legs, and marched him to the corner.

“Jer and I both have meetings tonight, and you will be spending the evening with Milton. He doesn’t have much patience with this kind of behavior, so I would think really hard if you want to end up over his knee.”

Steve turned around to protest. “Why can’t I stay at home?”

“Because you’re short leashed. I believe that was your choice,” Josh said with a soft rumble in his voice. “Do you talk when you’re in the corner?”

“No, sir.”

“Good boy.”

The corner was boring as always. It was in the kitchen at least and not in the hall. Steve could here Jer behind him puttering with the dishes. He was making more noise than usual, and Steve realized it must be Jer’s way of reassuring him. He didn’t usually clank the skillet against the glassware. 

Steve heard the kitchen chair scrape against the floor and Josh’s deep voice in the gentle timbre he used indoors and when being particularly reassuring.

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

The Family

We rode about half a day. My new master kept me up in front of him wrapped in his heavy cloak. The morning had been cold, not quite cold enough for frost, but the air had a chill bite, especially against my thinly clad body and bare feet. It was warm and comfortable on the cob, and despite my effort to stay awake and watch the countryside of my new home approach, I must have fallen asleep. Master was shaking me awake as the horses clattered down a gravel path. Fields lined either side, not the white board of my old master but a more natural split rail. Horses galloped along the fence line, nickering at our arrival, and Ranger, the cob, trumpeted loudly. The filly skittered at the end of the leading rein. Like me, she was trying to see everything.

“Welcome to your new home. We keep the young stock and the retired old-timers out here,” master said softly in my ear. He pointed to a distant field, still lush with late fall grass, where I could see several ancient horses, their backs swayed from years of work, gazing over the fence. “Everyone will want to check out the new comers. We raise horse as well as train them. These are our yearlings and two-year-olds. It will be one of your jobs to come out here and handle them every day.”

I sat up straighter and concentrated on what he was saying. I couldn’t forget my work assignment. 

“Don’t panic,” he said in the same voice that I’d heard him use with the filly this morning when she’d skittered backwards from the proffered oats. “I’ll go with you until you are comfortable with the routine. I dare say we run things differently than your old place.”

We crested a small hill, and the barns and house came into sight. Two long, low barns flanked the driveway. A small white clapboard house was tucked behind the barns; a remnant of a summer garden filled most of the front yard with a few colorful squashes still on the vines.  Horses’ heads in all colors poked out over the half doors. A boy dressed in good quality boots and hay flecked trousers ran out of the barn door; a gaggle of dogs followed close behind, a mixture of mutts all barking furiously with their tails wagging.

Sally snorted and spooked, stomping her dainty hooves. I scrambled from Ranger’s back, hanging on to the lead rope as she danced around.

“Thomas, collect the dogs, and do try not to run up on strange horses. Remember calm and quiet.” Master sounded more fond of the boy than annoyed. Thomas must be a favored son.

“Sorry,” Thomas said with a quick, sheepish grin as he chased after a puppy who was bouncing around Sally’s heels.

“One day a horse will plunk you right in the head when you spook him. Try to remember,” Master Harry said. 

I think master had scolded Thomas, but it was said in such a friendly tone that I wasn’t sure. Thomas rounded up the dogs, sending me questioning looks as he held the squirming puppy in his arms.

“Thomas, this is Karl, he’s our new apprentice. Show him where to put our new filly and where he’ll sleep.”

“Harry, I see you brought home strays.”

A tall man stood framed in the shadow of the barn door. In his left hand, he played idly with a whip. I stroked my hand down the filly’s neck; men with whips were to be avoided.

“I couldn’t leave them, Will.” Harry was unsaddling Ranger, not looking at the man in the doorway.

“Harry,” the man said with exasperated fondness. “I’m sure you had good reasons, and she is a beautiful filly. Trot her down and back.” He pointed with the whip to the path in front of the barn.

I jogged the filly and stopped well away from him. I didn’t want to be trapped in an argument between these two men. Will was frowning as he looked my way. I slid behind the mare’s neck, trying to make myself inconspicuous.

“What’s your name?”

“Karl, sir,” 

“My brother usually comes home with horses, dogs, or even a saddlebag full of kittens, but I don’t think he’s ever brought a boy home. Do you like horses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, we have plenty of them.” William smiled at me. “A boy who didn’t like horses would be a tough fit. Now go get the filly settled, and then take yourself off to the house. I won’t have a boy running around the stable in rags and looking pinched with hunger. I’m sure we can find something to cure both problems in the house.”

I trailed Thomas into the house after we settled Sally. The barn wasn’t fancy, but it smelled of sweet hay and crisp straw, and the filly had settled in comfortably after a snort and a whicker between the bars at the pony in the next stall. The house had the same comfortable feel as the barn, filled with the aroma of fresh bread and the spicy stew bubbling on the stove.

“Boots,” a tall woman said from the kitchen where she was stirring a pot. Her salt and pepper hair was pinned back on her head, and she rested her hand on her hip as she glared at Thomas.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t sass me boy, and don’t give me that innocent look. I had to mop the floor after you left your boots on.”

“I forgot,” Thomas said, ducking his head repentantly but winking at Karl.

The woman huffed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You can give me some of the cookies.”

“Thomas! You may have one. They’re Harry’s favorite, and last time you ate them all. Who’s the young man with you?” The woman looked up and down my skinny frame, making me feel like a horse being readied for a sale.

“Karl, Harry brought him home,” Thomas said.

“My Lord, that boy does collect strays. He’s been that way ever since he was a child. Did I ever tell you about his tadpole nursery?”

“Yes, many a time,” Thomas said with a wide smile. “You can tell us the story again with our cookies and milk.”

“Karl looks like he could do with several.”

“Eleanor, you are my favorite baker.”

She snorted. “I’m the only baker you know. Now go wash up, and I’ll have some cookies for you and a nice lunch for Karl. He’s a pile of bones.”

When I returned to the table, I found a bowl of the spicy stew that I smelled earlier, a large hunk of bread and a plateful of snickerdoodles. My mother used to make them as a special treat when we could afford the cinnamon and sugar. I wanted to start with a cookie especially when Thomas grabbed two off the plate and swallowed them practically whole.

“Thomas, where have your manners gone? I’ll have to speak to Harry about you,” Eleanor said, giving him a playful smack on the hand as he reached for another cookie.

Thomas giggled and took the cookie. “I’m so afraid.”

“You should be, young man,” Eleanor admonished sternly. “I have my wooden spoon in the drawer. If he won’t use a strap on your naughty rump; I’ll use my spoon.”

“He’ll never allow it,” Thomas laughed.

I glanced at the pot of stew still bubbling on the stove. I’d like more, but I didn’t dare ask. Thomas must be a favored son to joke so freely. I would be beaten bloody for such boldness.

“Karl, sweetie, are you still hungry?” Eleanor took my bowl, not waiting for a reply. “You can’t be shy here. Elbow Thomas out of the way and take what you want. Will and Harry don’t believe anyone should be hungry. You look like you’ve spent your life hungry.”

I lowered my eyes, embarrassed at my bony arms and tattered clothes.

“Honey, we’ll fix you right up. Thomas, run to your room and find him something to wear until Will and Harry can go to town to shop. I won’t have a half-naked, starved boy running around the house.”

Thomas came back with an armful of clothes. More clothes than I’d ever seen except in my old master’s house. He’d had a whole roomful of clothes; he’d kept a servant just to keep them all sorted.

“I can’t possibly wear all these clothes.”

“If you’re like Thomas, you’ll need far more. I’ve never see a boy go through so many clothes. Lord have mercy! He falls in the creek, gets thrown from a colt into the manure pile, snags a shirt on the rose bushes. I’m always a-washing and a-darning. Now, you sit right down and eat another bowl of stew then you can change and take some cookies to Will and Harry. They’ll be right mad if they don’t get any.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Eating the stew was no hardship in this warm kitchen. Eleanor went back to punching down the smooth glistening bread dough she’d left on table to serve me lunch. She did the cooking as if she were the help, but she referred to the masters as Harry and Will. What strange place had I landed?

She looked up as I slurped the last of my stew. “We usually use spoons here,” she said mildly as she caught me tipping the last of the spicy broth down my throat from the bowl.

I blushed and stumbled through an apology.

“If they didn’t feed you, I sure can’t expect the last place to have taught you any table manners. Now run along boys, and let me finish this bread, or there will be none for supper.”

********

“Steve, off to class. Remember to go home with Tilden,” Josh said, shutting the book.

“Yes,” Steve muttered. It wasn’t like he could forget. Tilden would grab him after class and escort him to the mansion of horrors.

“Steve,” Josh said with a note of warning. “I don’t know where your attitude came from this morning, but I’d tuck it away. We’re all happy to talk about what’s bothering you, but I will not be sniped at or muttered at. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said quickly, wanting nothing more than to get out from under Josh’s stern eyes. He didn’t want to go to class with a sore backside. He’d been doing that all too often recently.

Steve survived class. Tilden managed to mask from the rest of the students that he was following Steve’s every move with concerned eyes, and to Steve’s never ending gratitude, all Tilden’s questions directed at him had been easy. The worst student could have managed the right answer.

Steve politely waited for Tilden to walk him back to Milton’s lair. He’d tried wandering off once after Josh’s decree of a short leash; it hadn’t ended well. “Come on,” Tilden said in Russian and squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “An evening with us can’t be all bad?”

Steve shrugged. The Russian was way above him to answer the question. Luke could do it, but he was a boy genius when it came to languages.

“Hey, am I really that much of an ogre?” Tilden asked. “Josh has canes.”

“No. I’m sorry. Can we go?”

“Styopa, you’ve been upset all morning. I thought you might take a runner any minute.”

“Josh would kill me.”

“Is everything OK with you and Josh?”

“Yes,” Steve said quickly. “I’m just tired. I was up late memorizing vocabulary.”

“Styopa, I know you’re not being truthful with me. I’m not your top, but let me give you some helpful advice. It’s not a good idea to lie to us tops. We tend to get a bit belligerent. Do you want to revise your story?”

“I’m tired and cranky. Isn’t that enough?”

“Very well,” Tilden said slowly. “We’ll go straight home, have a sandwich, and I’ll put you to bed for a few hours.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Tough. You tell me you’re tired, and I know the cure for tiredness--rest.”

Steve bit his lip to stop an outburst that would get him smacked even by gentle Tilden. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed Tilden out the door.

Steve trailed down the path to Tilden’s house. He was glad that Tilden wasn’t forcing him to talk. Milton tended to be more insistent. God, Steve hoped Milton had to go to the faculty meeting tonight. He could about handle the gaggle of men in the house and their constant prying when Josh and Jer were around. Milton with his inescapable brown eyes was too much.

Tilden, as promised, made Steve a sandwich and sat propped on the counter eating his own. Steve was chased into the guest room, and Tilden magically appeared with a pair of pajamas.

“In bed with you for a few hours before the hordes come home. I have a faculty meeting tonight also, Milton will be here.”

“Can’t I go home? I’m not ten.”

“Josh asked us to look after you tonight. Do you argue with him?” Tilden asked gently.

Steve shook his head. He tried sometimes and ended up with a blistered butt.

Tilden wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “You live with Josh; Milton can’t be scarier.”

“He’s not Josh.” Steve ducked his head. He hadn’t meant to say that much.

“No, he’s not, and he gets that. None of us will do anything you don’t want. You know that.” Tilden kissed Steve’s forehead. “In bed with you.”

The house was still quiet when Steve woke. Sheldon and Blade must not be home yet; Steve had never been anywhere with them when they weren’t noisy. The Zath brothers had never been cruel or even unkind, but somehow they got on Steve’s nerves. Josh and Jer ran interference; Steve didn’t have that buffer tonight. He couldn’t tell Milton that Sheldon drove him wild.

Steve thought about staying in bed. The red-haired demons wouldn’t bother him here, but he wasn’t tired, and a night spent staring at the ceiling was less inviting than facing the hordes.

Steve crawled out of bed to find a bathrobe and a pair of slippers, but no sign of his clothes. He had to go to the bathroom, so there was no way to hide his night attire with the sun still not set. The guest bedroom didn’t have a connecting bathroom.

“I thought you might be awake,” Milton said as Steve left the bathroom.  

“Yeah,” Steve muttered. Of course he was awake. It was the late afternoon, not the middle of the night.

“I lit a fire in the living room if you want to curl up in there with your books. Your clothes are in on Tilden’s bed. Get changed, and you’ll save yourself explaining pajamas to the rest of the gang. You still have the house to yourself for a while. Mike’s at the library, and Luke has a painting class.”

Joy, an afternoon with Milton. He was trying to be sweet, leaning against the wall and trying not to look fierce. The problem was Milton always looked fierce. 

“OK,” Steve said and wished he could fade into the wallpaper.

“Your books are in the kitchen, and if you want something to eat you can take it into the living room. We don’t have any rules about it,” Milton said.

“I’m not hungry.” Steve slid past Milton; he wanted to get out of that top’s sight. Milton was unreadable; Steve could tell what Josh was thinking. He knew if trouble was coming his way. He couldn’t tell with Milton and wanted out of arm’s reach.

“Steve,” Milton called softly.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered, not turning around.

“Turn around and look at me.”

Steve turned around but kept his eyes fixed firmly of the floor.

“Look at me,” Milton insisted, his voice dropping to a deep growl.

“Yes, sir,” Steve said timorously and lifted his eyes for a second before dropping them back down.

“The floors are original, but I don’t think you’re all that interested in Victorian architecture.” Milton closed the gap between the two of them and lifted Steve’s chin. “You’ve been around us for a while. You’ve dealt with Gordon, and you live with Joshua. He’s not a soft top.”

“I like Josh.”

“And you’re only tolerating me because Joshua said you had to stay with us until he came to collect you. I get that, Steve. Do I look like a top who’s irritated or going to spank you? I don’t go around looking to find fault in other dominants’ submissives.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve mumbled. Why couldn’t Milton just leave him alone? Milton was trying to be nice, and for some reason, this only made Steve more antsy. Steve wanted to shout in Milton’s face that he could take his Goody Two-Shoes act and leave him the fuck alone.

“You know we want you to be happy,” Milton said gently and way too kindly.

Steve could feel heat rising in his face. Had Milton been able to read his thoughts? Was he that transparent?

“Your thoughts are your own, but I’m here if you decide otherwise. Go get dressed and make yourself comfortable in front of the fire. It will do you good.”

Steve grabbed his backpack from under the kitchen table and fled into Tilden’s room. As promised, his clothes were folded on the bed. Dressed and feeling slightly shielded by his jeans and thick sweater, he headed for the the living room. Milton was true to his word and left Steve alone with his books and the flickering fire. He came in once to poke at the fire and add a log, but he didn’t speak. He looked like he wanted to as his deep brown eyes studied Steve, seeing through Steve’s facade of diligent studying. Steve expected any moment to be called out for reading the same paragraph six times, but Milton poked the fire one more time and left as quietly as he’d come.

Josh would never have done that. He’d notice immediately if Steve was faking, and Steve would have found himself drawn up on the sofa for a friendly chat. God! Did he want Milton to do that? Was that why he was thinking about it?

The quiet was broken by a crash of an outside door and exuberant shouting. Sheldon was home early. Didn’t that crazed idiot work a full day?

“A bad weather front’s coming in. They sent everyone home early. Entertainment television types aren’t essential personnel.”

Steve could here lots of banging and thumping. How could one man with a briefcase make that much noise? It sounded more like a herd of elephants followed by the tuba section. Steve heard clumping on the stairs and a crash of a door, Sheldon upstairs at last. 

“Steve,” Milton said from the doorway, “I’m going to make some popcorn and settle Sheldon in front of the TV. I’m sure there is some basketball game he can yell at or a movie with guns blazing to keep him occupied. I’ll try to keep the noise to a minimum. Blade’s on his way home also. Do you have more studying to do?”

“Yeah.” Steve kept his eyes on his Russian textbook. He was done, but he didn’t want the company of Milton and his two red-headed demons. 

“Are you having trouble with it? Tilden didn’t think it would take you long.”

“I’m not comfortable with the vocabulary, and we have a test Friday.”

Milton gave Steve a peculiar look as if he knew the issue was Blade and Sheldon. “I’ll make you some popcorn, and when you finish come join us.”

Steve nodded and dropped his eyes back to the book. Grandmother’s hobbies were not an interesting topic. A movie would be fun. Josh didn’t do entertainment on schooldays: eat, study, household chores, and out for exercise. Actually that wasn’t true. It was no entertainment that required electric power. He had some fetish against electricity. It was OK to join the weird folk sing-alongs he and Jer had on the floor or to play dominoes. Steve hadn’t known people even played dominoes anymore; he’d thought dominos had gone the way of the milkman. 

A second set of nearly identical crashing heralded Blade’s arrival. Blade if anything was louder than his older brother and most definitely angry about something. Steve heard a shout and the sound of breaking glass. The yip that followed was most distinct, the noise after a hand lands on the butt. Steve strained his ears, but the kitchen was now silent. 

 Oh, God, why did Josh and Jer both have to be out tonight? He could just slip out and go home; he had a key.  After all he was over eighteen; he didn’t need a babysitter. Josh would kill him, and that would be after Milton turned him into mincemeat. It would be worth facing Josh’s wrath to escape this red-headed madhouse, but Steve hugged his knees tighter as he thought of Milton.

Milton scared the crap out of him. The guy was big, strong, and determined. He corralled his boys with a deft ease that was awe inspiring and overwhelming. Steve wasn’t ready to cope with him. He never wanted to cope with him. He never wanted to cope with any top besides Josh. Josh wasn’t scary; he was simply Josh.

“Wee kiddo, not allowed to be home alone?”

“Shut up, Sheldon.”

“Ooh don’t let Milton hear that. We aren’t allowed to fight.”

“Why aren’t you upstairs watching a movie? I thought Milton was keeping his big adult, bratty partner occupied and out of trouble,” Steve said, not hiding his derision.

“I came down for a drink.” Sheldon held out his Coke can. “And Milton’s busy with my brother.”

“Yeah, throwing glass does tend to get a top’s attention. I guess your brother has no more of a clue than you do.”

“It’s not like I haven’t heard that you’ve been over Josh’s knee more times than you can count in the last month.”

“I’m not stupid enough to throw dishes.”

“You’re just stupid enough not be allowed out of a top’s sight. Permanently grounded. You win the gold in bratting.”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m going home.”

“Stop,” Sheldon said and reached for Steve’s arm.

“Get off me!” Steve swung his Russian textbook at Sheldon’s head. 

Sheldon lobbed the Coke can at Steve and in seconds they were both rolling on the floor in the sticky syrup. 

“Freeze.” The tone would have stopped a charging bull, but the issuer of the command didn’t wait for results. He unceremoniously jerked both boys apart. “I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you behave like this.”

Steve squirmed in Milton’s grip. He’d never seen Milton look this furious. Milton always looked stern, but now he looked like one wrong word, and he might just haul off and hit one of them.

“I only came in to ask how he was doing,” Sheldon started.

“Don’t”

The tone dissolved Sheldon into tears, shaking sobs with no concern for his dignity.

“You’ve made a mess or it, haven’t you, boy?” Milton said, his features softening as he changed his grip from on Sheldon’s collar to around his shoulders and pulled his boy close. “You’re in heaps of trouble, and you know it. Don’t lie to me and make it worse. Upstairs now,” Milton ordered, his tone hardening again.

Steve let himself be pushed upstairs. His feet and legs felt numb, but they obeyed Milton’s order. He wanted Josh.

Blade was in one corner of the study, still sniffling and looking very much like a boy who had gotten a thorough spanking. Steve licked his lips, trying to raise some moisture in his throat. This was going to happen to him. Josh was unavailable, and he’d been fighting with Sheldon. Any idiot knew that you didn’t fight around Milton and that you didn’t fight with his precious red-haired jerk of a partner.

“Corner, here.” Milton guided Steve into a corner by the fireplace. His heavy hand rested on Steve’s shoulders. “Stand here and think. We’ll get this worked out.”

Was that supposed to be reassuring? Both of Milton’s own red-haired maniacs were crying, and he wasn’t supposed to be scared witless. They actually knew the man. He heard Milton softly reassuring Blade and sending him to his room. Sheldon must still be with Milton. Steve couldn’t see him in either of the two corners which he could make out with his peripheral vision, and the corner directly behind him had been filled with a hat stand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Steve heard Sheldon repeat, his voice choked with sobs. He was still in the study. He was Milton’s boy, and he sounded terrified. What was going to happen to them?

“Sheldon, I will speak to you alone. Go wait in the corner in the bedroom.”

“Don’t make me. Please.”

“Go,” Milton barked. 

Steve heard loud sobs and the sound of a slamming door.

“Steve,” Milton’s voice was softer now. “Turn around and look at me.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve managed to mumble and turned from the now welcoming safety of the corner. 

“I want you to stand here and come up with a coherent reason why I found you two rolling around on the floor. You know fighting is not permitted, and you know fighting is punished with the paddle in this household.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve managed to make himself say. He couldn’t take his eyes off the paddle on the desk. Milton must have already paddled Blade.

“I will try to reach Josh, but this happened in my house, and you answer to me for this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve croaked out in a tortured whisper.

“Steve,” Milton said, his voice softening, “please don’t look at me like you’ve just seen the Grim Reaper or the men of the Inquisition. You’re still very young, but you’ve been with Josh several months. I’m a top, not a torturer. I won’t do anything without your consent. Now I need you to stand in the corner while I settle my two Zaths. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Steve could tell by Milton’s expression that he was hesitant to leave him. God, he wanted Milton out of the room, and with that end in mind, Steve pulled himself together and gave Milton a half smile that felt like a twisted grimace. “I’m all right.”

“You’re a long way from all right,” Milton said with unhesitating bluntness, “but it’s going to have to do for five minutes while I put a lid on my two. I’m sorry.” Milton stepped close, swept the straggly bangs out of Steve’s eyes, and kissed his forehead. He placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders and turned the young man back to the corner. “Think about why you are here.”

Steve heard the door of the study close. He knew he should stay in the corner; he was supposed to obey the other tops; Josh expected and demanded it. Milton would be gone for more than a few minutes if the state of the red-headed tornados was anything to judge. 

Steve slid from the corner and cracked the door; the hall was quiet, and the doors to both bedrooms were firmly shut. He thought he could hear a murmur of conversation from the closer door, the master bedroom. Sheldon must have calmed down to a non-eardrum bursting decibel level, or Milton had swatted him into silence. Milton had certainly looked mad enough to silence his infuriating partner by any means necessary. Steve crept down the hall, staying as far away from the closed doors as possible. Thankfully neither the red-headed maniacs nor their keeper popped out of either door. The stairs were trickier; the old treads squeaked and groaned at the weight of a human. Steve leaned against the banister, hoping by balancing his weight on the railing he could lessen the telltale noise. Downstairs the kitchen was empty, and Steve slid out the door, not caring that he didn’t have his coat; Milton had put it in some unknown closet.

*******

“I fucked up with Steve,” Sheldon said, his voice thick with tears.

“Language.” Milton landed a half swat on Sheldon’s hip, more for form than anything else. Sheldon reacted to other submissives in distress, not always wisely, but Milton understood the sentiment, and with Milton the president elect of the Green Mountain Boys, Sheldon was struggling. Sheldon would never be Landon; he wasn’t half top. He was all submissive with a penchant for bratting, and Milton knew Sheldon could use that to his advantage when dealing with the young subs. Unfortunately Sheldon didn’t understand that yet. He’d find his own style, and the boys would respond to him. Subs liked Sheldon; even tops liked Sheldon, or at least those who didn’t flee at Sheldon’s antics. “Getting in a fight wasn’t the best way to handle him.”

“He’s spinning.”

“I think we’re all aware of that,” Milton said dryly, “and now you’re spinning with him.”

“He’s afraid of all the tops except Josh.”

“And you determined that by rolling around on the floor with him?”

“Milton,” Sheldon whined. “I didn’t mean to get in a fight.”

Milton ruffled Sheldon’s hair. “You may not have meant to, but you did.”

“I know,” Sheldon said softly, “and I’m sure you’re going to remind me not to do it again.”

“I am.” Milton kissed the top of Sheldon’s head. “But I left Steve in the study by himself. I can’t leave him alone any longer.”

“Go.” Sheldon made shooing motions with his hands. “I’ll take myself off to the corner.”

“Thank you.” Milton kissed his boy’s forehead again. “And I’ll try not to terrify Steve, our poor delicate flower.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Sheldon said with a lopsided grin. “Go show the boy he’ll live through a Milton scolding.”

“Thanks,” Milton said with a final tousle of Sheldon’s hair.

Milton opened the study door; the corner was empty. In the quiet of the study, he allowed himself a few choice curse words. There were no innocent submissive’s ears to warp, or Gordon with his bloody cane. He didn’t want to contemplate Gordon’s reaction to losing a young and vulnerable submissive. It wasn’t going to be pretty, and that was after Josh told him off. 

Milton checked the bathroom to be on the safe side, but no wayward boy. He should have taken Steve’s shoes and socks. Gordon would have if he were leaving an unstable sub alone. Snow on bare feet was usually enough to shock a modicum of common sense into any submissive.

“Sheldon,” Milton called, returning to the bedroom. “I need you to look after your brother while I go out. Can you do that? Steve took a runner.”

“He took off!? Idiot!”

“He’s frightened. He’s not thinking clearly.”

“I can help you look for him.”

“No, I paddled your brother; I don’t want him alone. You can snag Steve if he should return here.”

“Won’t he go home?”

“I hope.” Milton was doubtful. Steve would know Milton would look for him there first. “I’m going to call Josh. He may need you to meet him at the train station. Take Blade if he does.”

“Yes, sir.”

Milton nodded at the formality. It wasn’t something Sheldon did often, but Milton knew there was reassurance in the familiar pattern, the memories of Gordon with his fearsome rules but also his ability to bring chaos into order, an order under which Sheldon thrived, even though he would complain vociferously at its enforcement.

Milton called Josh as he left the house and headed up the street to their home. Already from the darkness of the windows and lack of fresh footprints on the dusting of snow on the porch, Milton knew Steve hadn’t returned home. He lifted the small statue of the sleeping lion and retrieved the key. He’d had to leave a message for Josh; his phone had been off. The house was empty, the kitchen as neat and tidy as ever with the bright enamel coated pans hanging over the center island.

His phone rang as he headed back out into the street.

“I understand you lost Steve.” Josh’s deep voice came clearly through the phone.

Milton filled Josh in on what could only be described as a debacle.

“Stop, boy,” Josh said, suddenly sounding very much like Gordon, and not the man who had come to Milton for advice on dealing with Steve’s blossoming affection. “You had three boys all spinning in different directions. You’re a top not super human. I’m sure Steve’s gone to Jer’s office. Steve retreats there when he wants privacy. Jer gave him a key, but you didn’t hear that from me. They think I don’t know.” Josh chuckled, his voice warm and reassuring. “Jer should know by now that he can’t keep secrets from me, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.”

“Thanks, Josh. I’ll call you when I find him.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can. I took the train, but I think it’s early enough it’s still running on peak schedule. I trust you to handle him properly.”

Milton stuffed the phone in his pocket and headed up the hill to campus. Josh trusted Milton to handle Steve. In shorthand, Josh was telling Milton to put Steve back on track. Steve was pledged by the Green Mountain Boys. That alone made him subject to the authority of Gordon and now to Milton as the incoming president. Sheldon’s blunt comment that Steve was terrified of Milton played in his mind. He needed to punish the kid, and the kid had run because he was afraid.

The old science building was illuminated only by the security lights. Milton’s pass card opened the outer door, but it wouldn’t get him into Jer’s office. He’d have to convince Steve to let him in. The corridors were lit in a dim yellow glare as he made his way up three flights of stairs; a brighter light shone from under Jer’s door. He turned the knob, and to his surprise, the door swung open.

The office was clearly Jer’s space with journals and who knows what stacked in nearly every available space. Jer’s eclectic collection of old posters extolling the virtues of nuclear power hung from one wall in all their 1950’s optimism. Steve was curled up in Jer’s chair, almost hidden by the big desk. Milton halted and shut the door, clicking the lock to guarantee them privacy.

“Hey, kid, you forgot your jacket.” Milton slipped off his own coat and placed it on the desk, making no effort to move closer to the boy. “You’re shaking. Put it on.”

“I’m not cold.” Steve’s frightened eyes belied the defiance in his words.

“The heat never works in this building. It’s either the Arctic or a sauna, and today it’s going for the North Pole.” Milton leaned against the ice cold radiator, trying to look less imposing. “I can’t and won’t make you do anything,” he continued softly. “I can only top with your consent, taking my coat is not consent.”

Steve’s fingers reached toward the coat and then jerked back. “Josh left me in your care. I’m supposed to obey other tops.”

“I also pledged your behavior, didn’t I?” Milton asked softly.

Steve nodded.

“Take my coat.” This time Steve grabbed it and wrapped it around his body, clutching it tightly. “Good.” 

“I’m in trouble?” Steve’s voice shook.

“What do you think?”

“I got in a fight, and I ran off.”

“Does that make you in trouble?”

Steve nodded again. “I’m grounded. I’m supposed to stay with a top.”

“What about the fighting?”

Steve’s head dropped, and a slight flush rose on his cheeks. “Never.”

“It’s one of Josh’s ten deadly sins,” Milton said with a slight smile.

“He canes.” Steve pulled Milton’s jacket tighter around himself. He swiped at his eyes, trying to hide the tears.

“Would he cane for this?”

“I think so. I was awful,” Steve said in a small voice that made him sound even younger than his twenty years.

“You weren’t awful. You overreacted and broke some rules. Sheldon’s my partner; I’m used to both.”

“I’m supposed to obey you.”

“Why?”

“I’m a submissive.”

“That you are,” Milton said with a slight smile. “But a submissive doesn't have to obey every dominant. You are also very young, and our relationship isn't that of mere acquaintances. I pledged your behavior, and you agreed to allow my role to expand beyond the nod and say hello. I'm using my power as a dominant outside of the erotic. It's the same with Josh. You understand that, don't you?”

Steve flushed and curled into a tighter ball.

“I’m sorry.”

Milton could tell Steve was fighting tears. “Do you want me to come over there?” Milton watched closely, hoping for a slight nod in reply. That boy needed held, but he may have pushed too hard.

“Please,” Steve said muffled and distorted by tears.

In a practiced motion, Milton in one easy stride lifted Steve from the chair, sat down, and placed Steve on his lap, spreading the coat over both of them. “I’ve got you. Nothing awful is going to happen.”

“I want Josh.”

“I know you do.” Milton brushed the fine hair back off the boy’s face and kissed his forehead. “I know I come in a poor second to Josh. He’s on his way. I’m going to call him and let him know I found you. Do you want to talk to him?”

Steve nodded, his face mostly hidden in the crook of Milton’s arm.

Milton placed the call and after a brief word handed the phone to Steve. Milton couldn’t completely follow the one-sided conversation, but from Steve’s expression and the few words that Steve muttered, Milton could guess the gist. Josh was throwing Steve to the lions. He was telling his young charge that Milton was going to have a go at him.

“Josh wants to talk to you,” Steve said, misery evident on every line and plane of his face.

“My boy’s miserable,” Josh said as soon as he realized Milton was on the phone. “He needs a top.”

“He has one,” Milton said, hoping Steve was not trying to follow the conversation.

 “You know the problem with that. I can’t make myself thirty years younger, and he's going to want something besides a mentor someday. You need to punish him. Maybe it will break his fixation on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Josh said grimly. “He’s going to be hysterical, but you can get him through it. I trust you, and down under all of Steve’s histrionics he’ll trust you. He responds well to strong tops.”

“OK.” Milton flipped off the phone. “Steve, you know Josh asked me to punish you?”

Steve nodded. “He said it was your house and your partnert. That it’s your right.”

“What else did he say?” Milton prodded gently.

“That we all look out for each other,” Steve said hurriedly. “I’m a Green Mountain Boy.”

“Yes, you are.” Milton tightened his arm around Steve. “You’re in our protection, and with our protection comes an unpleasant aspect called punishment.”

“I want Josh.” Steve buried his head in Milton’s chest and let the tears flow.

Milton didn’t try to stop him. Sometimes a boy needed to cry himself out. He could give Steve a safe haven for tears. Milton stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair, waiting for the sobs to end.

“I’m sorry,” Steve choked, hoarse with swallowed tears.

“Why?”

“I’m being difficult.”

“Sheldon says you’re afraid of me, and I agree with him. I think Josh is the only top you feel comfortable with.”

Steve shifted and looked up at Milton, his still glistening with tears. “You’re not mad?”

“That you’re afraid. No. You’re new at this. I’m a big, intimidating guy. If you weren’t a little afraid I’d be worried. I won’t touch you as long as you’re terrified. Worried and apprehensive about a spanking is different than being scared you’ll be hurt. I’ll deal with Josh and ultimately with Gordon if you can’t do this.”

“I’ll do it. I deserve to be spanked.”

“You deserve to be spanked, but only when you’re in the right mindset.” Milton ran his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Steve, have you ever had a safe word?”

“No.”

“I don’t always use one for discipline in a mentor relationship, but I think we need one. Josh can read you well, but I can't. I don’t want to misread you.” Milton looked around the room. “Your safe word is Los Alamos.”

“Los Alamos?”

“It’s the birthplace of the nuclear bomb. If this is beyond your mental or physical limit, use your safe word, and we’ll talk about it and try something else. I will not harm you.”

“I can do this,” Steve said and wriggled from Milton’s lap. His hands were still shaking as he unbuttoned his jeans and worked them down over his slim hips. He threw himself over Milton’s knee.

Milton automatically drew the boy close and rested his hand on Steve’s butt, but he didn’t start to spank him. “I’m not spanking you when every fiber in your body says you want to run away. Breathe and think. Do you have something you want to say, a special word?” Milton listened closely for a grunt or a mumble that night be Steve’s safe word before continuing. “Sheldon and Blade are both dramatic submissives, and they survive me. What does that tell you?”

Steve mumbled something that Milton couldn’t understand.

“I’m pretty good at mumble, but that escaped me.”

“You didn’t kill them,” Steve said only slightly more clearly and with obvious effort.

“I’m not going to kill you either.” Milton rubbed his hand on the small of Steve’s back. “Gordon and Josh would flay me alive if I hurt you,” Milton said, intentionally injecting humor into his voice. Steve shifted minutely on his lap, and Milton knew it was time to spank the young man. He landed his hand firmly but not hard. This wouldn’t be a hard spanking, but it also wouldn’t be a pretend spanking. Milton spanked carefully, watching Steve’s reaction. He watched for the shoulders to relax, the realization that the punishment would be just, but not harsh. Steve’s breathing evened out, and the hand gripping Milton’s ankle eased a fraction. Milton heard the telltale sign of quiet crying; he landed several more swats to mark the end of the punishment and swept Steve into his arms. 

Steve curled into Milton’s chest, taking up an impossibly small space. He seemed content to cry quietly, his eyes buried in Milton’s sweater. Milton didn’t try to talk or stop the crying; he sat quietly, stroking Steve’s hair. This was Gordon’s way, hard clear boundaries but always let the submissive find his peace. 

“I’m OK now,” Steve said with a quiet sniffle.

“There’s no hurry,” Milton said, tucking Steve back against his chest.

“What about Sheldon?”

“He’s a big boy and can be patient when he has to be. It’s not his favorite hobby, but he’s more than capable of it. He feels bad that he upset you.”

“It wasn’t all his fault.”

Milton smiled softly to himself. Don’t I know. “Are you still feeling guilty?”

Steve paused with an unusual introspective look for such a young man. “I think I’m good.” He gave Milton a shy smile. “That wasn’t as bad as I imagined.”

“I hope not since you seemed to be imagining boiling cauldrons of oil and other terrors.” Milton ruffled Steve’s hair. “You’ve been having a hard time recently. Did this help?”

Steve looked up at Milton, his large eyes still wet with tears. No wonder Josh found himself lost with this boy. “Yes,” Steve murmured. “Thank you.”