Steve's Tale 9

Steve’s Tale

Chapter 9

Miles stared at the ties: stripes, yellow with strange paisley things, solid red. They weren’t him; he didn’t wear ties. He didn’t wear pressed shirts and khakis either. Mike had loaned him a shirt after pronouncing Miles’s shirt beyond redemption even with the steam setting, but Mike had resurrected Miles's khakis to pressed perfection.

“I like to iron. I’m weird that way,” Mike had said when he’d finished up the shirt Miles was now wearing.  “I find it meditative, and now that Milton’s found out that the hiss of steam kicks me into subspace and keeps me out of trouble I do most of the ironing. Pants are easier. Dress shirts are a little tougher, and I’d probably get more practice if Blade wasn’t such an ass all the time. He’s usually on some sort of punishment detail. Milton should just beat the shit out of him every morning and save everyone else the trouble.”

 Miles knew he had stared open mouth at that declaration until Mike had laughed and slapped him on the back. Miles was still processing the idea--liking to iron. 

“I was kidding. You can’t be that gullible and survive around here; we play hardball,” Mike had continued with a laugh.

Miles hadn’t been sure what to say to that; he’d just smiled and nodded and felt like some mindless bobble head doll. Now he had to decide on a tie. He hadn’t worn a tie since his grandfather’s funeral. He couldn’t remember what color that had been. He’d had to borrow it from his dad, and it had been so damn cold that no one had taken off their overcoats.

“The stripes will do fine,” Mike said, pulling out a tie. “It will look cool with our polka dots. You’ve noticed the bow ties we’re wearing?”

Miles had seen them. They made Mike, Luke, and Tilden look like some retro singing group; all they needed were straw bowlers and canes, and they’d be ready for a tap dance routine.

“Milton and Josh will have a cow, but that’s half the fun, and Tilden doesn’t mind playing along a little bit. He’s great that way. He can get all toppy if you need him to; I can even push him to find his big, bad dom side, not that it's truly bad, but he’s usually just calm and friendly. Josh and Milton might as well have a great big T tattooed on their foreheads.”

 Miles laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t I know.”

“Hey, you’re a top,” Mike said, giving Miles a gentle shove. “You’re supposed to be defending all your brother tops.”

“I feel squashed,” Miles said and fiddled with the tie. Damn if he knew how to tie the blasted thing, and he wasn’t going to ask Milton. Mike wasn’t what he’d expected. He lived in this household with practically a fistful of tops and seemed totally unfazed. Shy or beat down he wasn’t.

“What did Milton do to you?” Mike asked, training his brown eyes on Miles. There was no coy lowering of his eyes or shy submissiveness; he was unabashedly staring at Miles.

“Talked,” Miles said.

“And talked, I bet. I’ve had Milton in that mood.” Mike made a slicing motion across his throat. “It’s death by words. I’d rather have him just throw me over his knee and spank me silly. It’s a lot less painful.”

“The other tops will spank you?”

“Milton will. He kind of runs the whole show,” Mike said, flopping down on the bed. “Tilden’s my top, and Milton will go get Tilden if he’s around, but if I’m just being an ass or wanting to be taken down a little bit, Milton will oblige. Luke’s a bit shyer. I think Milton’s more cautious with him.”

Everybody was a bit shyer than Mike, Miles decided. The boy was wantonly spread out on the bed, an invitation for disaster if the wrong person came in. Yes, he was conservatively dressed in a white shirt, pressed navy pants with a belt, and that ridiculous bow tie, but Miles imagined Mike could be out of his clothes in a flash. “Mike, you’re wrinkling your shirt,” Miles said, trying to get Mike to sit up. He didn’t like the idea of someone else’s brat all sprawled out in front of him.

“Top,” Mike said with a grin and sat up. “You’re worried about my shirt, and you’re crushing that tie into bits.”

“I can’t tie it.”

Mike stood, walked to the door, and called loudly, “Tilden. Tilden, your assistance is needed in bedroom number one.”

“Mike,” Miles hissed, feeling a blush rise in his face.

“Mike, we’re having guests tonight,” Tilden said as he walked in the room.

“They’re like us,” Mike said with a wide, cocky grin. “I don’t think we need to have any false modesty.”

“Modesty of any sort might be nice, Misha. I want you in khaki pants, black shoes with laces, and a black belt. Go change.”

“Why?”

“Mishka, because I asked. Last time you wore loafers at dinner you took them off and tortured Luke. Change.”

For a second Miles thought Mike was going to refuse, but then the brat grinned wider and snapped to attention with a mock salute. He said something, presumably in Russian from Tilden’s nod and started to unbuckle his belt.

“In the bathroom, not in front of strangers.” Tilden’s voice dropped but was still clearly audible. “Mishenka, are you going to settle, or do you need some help?”

“Oh, my wonderful tsarevich--”

Tilden cut Mike off before he could continue. “You need some help. Excuse me, Miles,” he said, taking Mike by the elbow. “I’ll be only a minute.”

Miles didn’t hear any spanking or crying from the bathroom. It fact, it was remarkably quiet, and Tilden came out a few minutes later looking unruffled.

“It’s going to be one of those nights,” Tilden said with a tight smile. “My apologies. Why did Mike want me earlier?”

“To knot my tie, I think,” Miles said, handing Tilden the rumpled strip of cloth.

“Well, no one could tie that,” Tilden said, his eyes bright with amusement. “Crushing it is not the recommended strategy. Come here.” Tilden pulled a dark green tie from the closet and propelled Miles in front of the mirror. “I have to do this every day for work, and it’s not hard.”

Miles didn’t know if he should be pleased or embarrassed at the time Tilden spent teaching him to knot that strip of cloth. He didn’t know how he should take Tilden. It was beyond obvious that Tilden was a top, but he wasn’t a Milton or Josh clone. He’d even seemed more laid back than Simon, but he’d casually dictated Mike’s wardrobe and had done something to him when he’d gotten too cheeky.

“I didn’t kill Mike,” Tilden said in Miles’s ear.

“How did you know?” Miles spun around, ruining the knot for the umpteenth time.

“You’re obvious. You don’t hide anything. Don’t be angry,” Tilden continued, placing a hand on Miles’s shoulder. “It’s not a fault. I expect Steve is head over heels for you because he can read you. He’s a kid who finds himself up to his eyebrows in trouble, and with you he’s at least going to know things are going south.” Tilden fixed Miles’s tie again. “Mike likes you; I take that as a good sign.”

“Why did you make him change?” Miles blurted out.

“No, it’s OK to ask. I’m still feeling my way around this also, Mike’s enjoys this side of his submissiveness. It's not always my comfort level, but small things like making him wear a different color of shoes strengthens our connection and helps keep him settled. He’s in the corner, contemplating not fussing when I tell him to do something. I hardly manage these interactions sometimes, but I love the both of them. It’s more than worth it.”

“You didn’t know about his wants before he became your partner?” Miles asked, surprised.

“Our courtship was a little unorthodox,” Tilden said with a smile. 

Miles looked curiously at Tilden. He wanted to ask more, but it hardly seemed polite. Miles had imagined all these guys had perfect, orthodox power exchange relationships. By the book if there was such a thing.

“Get Luke or Mike to tell you the story. They say my rendition is too dry,” Tilden said. “We need to get going. Milton doesn’t do late. Go on. I have to let Mike out of the corner.” Tilden gave Miles a slight, lopsided smile. “I hope he’s settled. I don’t know if I’m up to wrangling crazy redheads, and we have a combustible mix tonight. You’ll get to see Blade in all his glory. Milton should just spank and handcuff the boy before we start and be done with it, but I think that goes against his sense of fair play.”

Miles stared at Tilden. He’d thought Tilden was reasonable, but now he was suggesting spanking a boy just for the hell of it, and he played some sort of weird games with his partner. Miles wasn't naive; he knew submission was often a sexual game, but Blade wasn't in a sexual relationship with Milton, and Josh had always wrapped the discipline with Steve into some kind of mentoring. Maybe it was the Josh side that was strange; he saw plenty of the other in the bar, but Tilden just didn't seem the type.

“Spend an hour with Blade and you’ll understand my position. Milton should get the distinguished service medal.” Tilden glanced at his watch. “Go on now. Steve should be here any moment, and he’s going to want to see a friendly face.” Tilden made shooing motions with his hands. “Scoot, and you look nice. Steve will be proud to be seen with you.”

Fat chance, Miles thought, stepping into the hall. He felt like a fraud in a pressed shirt and ghastly tie. He should have just refused. It wasn’t a funeral or a wedding. Who wore ties at dinner? Miles tugged at the knot, lessening the strangling effect and sending it askew.

“Miles,” Steve pulled out of Josh’s hand and darted toward Miles.

Miles caught him easily in a practiced hug. “I just saw you a few hours ago, not that I don’t like the warm welcome.” Miles grinned and tousled the short hair.

“I missed you.”

“Me too.” Miles maneuvered Steve and kissed him thoroughly, not a chaste kiss on the forehead but a real kiss.

“Boys.” Miles heard a low growl from Josh’s direction. “This isn’t exactly private.”

“It’s not exactly public either,” Miles said hotly and kissed Steve again. Steve was squirming now, unable to feel comfortable in Josh’s disapproving glare.

“Miles.” The tone was clipped, and when Miles turned around to pick the hand off his shoulder, Joshua’s eyes were glacial despite the forced smile on his lips. “Steve, run and help Trent in the kitchen. He’s already absconded with Jer. Let him know he’ll have two more laborers in a minute. He always needs an army of kitchen help.”

Steve glanced at both men, his eyes apprehensive. “I’ll be right there,” Miles said reassuringly. Fuck! He tried to keep his conflict with Josh hidden, and he’d just blown his cover wide open.

“Go on,” Josh said softly, giving Steve a mild push toward the kitchen. “Trent will defend you against the Zath boys.” 

Miles and Josh watched Steve walk reluctantly to the kitchen. He turned back twice, giving both men beseeching looks. Josh smiled easily in return, and Miles fought to keep the grim expression off his face. 

“Boy, we’re having a little chat,” Josh said, turning his full attention on Miles and grabbing his arm.

“Get off me. I’m not your boy,” Miles hissed, jerking his arm free.

“With those manners, you need to be someone’s boy.” Josh was not a young man, but he still moved with the easy assuredness of someone comfortable with his own strength and who worked jobs that involved more than shuffling paper. He stepped toward Miles, using his body and arms to fence Miles in against the wall. He didn’t touch Miles, but Miles couldn’t escape without moving those arms. “Now we can either have a fight in the hall within earshot of a half dozen near strangers, or you can walk quietly with me to a room where I can shut and lock the door. Which will it be?”

Miles flushed. Josh was right; he couldn’t fight in the hall, not where the brats could hear them. “I’ll go with you,” he ground out. He didn’t have a choice. This was coercion!

“Thank you.” Josh stepped back, opening a path.

Miles had just been in the study with Milton. Its books piled everywhere and its slightly worn but comfortable furniture. Josh shut the door and turned the old-fashioned key before pocketing it.

“Sit.” Josh pointed at the oversized armchair.

Miles stared at Josh, refusing to lower his eyes or meekly take a seat while this man loomed over him. “You forced me in here. I’m not sitting.”

“God help me,” Josh muttered. “Miles,” he said in a quiet, chilling voice. “If you disobey one more simple request, I am going to take that as permission to spank you. You have been nothing but defiant, discourteous, and downright rude. I’ve given you room to solve your own problems; I’ve asked Simon and Milton to speak to you. Clearly polite conversations and requests are not working. I would not tolerate this behavior with strangers; I most certainly am not going to tolerate it with family. You can either be civil, or you can find yourself bare assed over my knee.” Josh’s voice rose on the last statement. “Are we clear now on what I consider permission?”

“No,” Miles said hotly. “You have no right to touch me.”

“Then behave like a civilized human, not a petulant toddler, and I won’t. It’s easy. Act like you’re in control of your emotions and making rational decisions, and we’ll get along fine. Behave like you want to spit in my eye, and I can become very unfriendly very quickly. Now sit down.”

“Fuck you!”

“Nice,” Josh said dryly, pulling out the straight backed chair from the corner and removing the several files of paper. “Come here.”

“You’re not spanking me.” Miles said, edging away from Josh toward the wall.

“Have you ever been spanked?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Miles rattled the door handle it was locked. “Give me the key.”

“No. Have you ever been spanked?”

“Fuck off!”

“I hope you don’t speak like that in front of Steve. It’s impolite and inappropriate.”

“Don’t you dare talk about polite or appropriate. You’ve locked me in here. You want to spank my ass. Well, that ain’t happening.” Miles’s voice rose to a yell.

“Do you want everyone to hear? I thought you’d rather keep this private,” Josh said mildly. “This house has good thick walls of original plaster, but this room’s not soundproof if you’re determined to make that much noise.”

“You wouldn’t dare in front of everybody else. Simon wouldn’t let you.”

“Should I include Simon in this conversation, kid? I’m happy to get him. Does he have his cell phone on him?” Josh pulled his phone from his pocket.

“No, don’t.” Miles felt a blush rise on his cheeks. His partner didn’t fight his battles.

“If you’d feel safer with him here, I’m happy to get him,” Josh repeated.

“No.” Miles drew himself up to his full height and tried to force a calm around himself. He didn’t have to do what this man wanted. He didn’t have to do what any of them wanted. He was his own man. Lie! Miles thought, watching Josh’s absolute calm. Josh knew he was going to cave It was something about who Miles was. Something about who they all were that he didn’t quite understand. “He’d let you spank me?” Miles asked, his voice a disbelieving whisper.

“Yes, kid.” Josh’s voice was now as soft as Miles’s. “Your Simon is a very good top. He may have been burying those skills, but the instincts and feelings are all still there. I suspect he’s known he should have taken you to task for weeks. He’s trying to pretend he doesn’t see it. While you may not want to admit it, you’ve wanted someone to press you. You belong in this community, and you can’t keep hiding it. This is not about being a top or a sub. You have been acting obnoxious with me.” Josh gave Miles a very faint smile, just enough to ease the tension in his jaw line. “But I know you’re not a full time submissive. You pull a mantle of authority around you when you’re with a submissive your submissive. Miles, Steve is your boy, yours and Simon’s. He’s not mine any more.”

Miles thought he saw Josh blink, and his eyes seemed unnaturally glossy. Josh shifted in the chair, wiping his palm once down his leg. “You love him?” Miles asked and studied Josh. He’d thought Steve had been a houseguest, a good deed, or a check mark next to a list of things a good top did. 

“Yes,” Josh said heavily. “We both do.”

“Why are you pushing him out?”

“It’s not right. I’m the top that I am: hard, uncompromising, rigid, traditional, old-fashioned. I’m sure you’ve called me less flattering things. Steve’s twenty; he needs a top who will grow with him. Jer and I aren’t going to change after all these years. We were a nice safe harbor, but now it’s time for him to test the open ocean. I’m letting him go, but I’m still making sure he has a life vest and an emergency kit. I, Jer, and all the rest of the Green Mountain Boys are his life vest and emergency kit. I won’t let him out there without it.” Josh paused and stared hard at Miles. “Unless I’m badly mistaken you’re enough of a man to understand this. It’s time for you to stop pretending.”

Miles watched Josh. The older top made no effort to get up or come toward him; he seemed content to wait. Shit! He was going to have to do this. He owed it to them. Miles swallowed hard, trying to moisten the sudden dryness in his throat. Steve survived this man; Miles could do it. Slowly, he walked toward the chair, each step feeling like he was scaling a mountain. He could feel his heart pounding and the breath whistling through his chest.

“Thank you,” Josh said softly. “Do you know what to do?”

Miles shook his head; he couldn’t seem to make enough saliva to speak.

“Take your tie off. Are you wearing a t-shirt under the oxford?”

Miles nodded.

“Then take your shirt off. We won’t have to iron it again. Fold your pants over the sofa arm.”

Miles fumbled with his buttons. He finally managed to get them undone, but forgot his cuff buttons and trapped the shirt at his wrists.

“I’ll do them.” Josh guided Miles with a steady hand on the young top’s shoulders. “It will be OK. I won’t harm you. I have experience in these matters, and you’re not the first top to find yourself over my knee.” Josh folded back the shirt and unbuttoned the cuffs before slipping it all the way off. 

Miles blushed, humiliated that he couldn’t even remove his own clothes. He’d agreed to this, and now he couldn’t even participate.

“Miles, this isn’t a contest. No one’s here but us. Two tops working out the problems between them. Shoes and pants now. You don’t know me well. Standing in front of me exposed takes courage. Do not doubt that you have that courage.”

Somehow Miles managed to get his pants off. He allowed Josh to guide him to the correct spot. Miles knew it in abstract, on the right unless the top was left handed.

“Do I have your permission?”

Miles wanted to make a short retort. Yeah, I’m standing here in my skivvies playing bridge and talking politics. What an insane question? Miles licked his lips; all he could manage was a limp nod.

“OK. Come across my thighs. You’re tall enough that you’ll probably want to put your hands on the floor. Steve wraps his around my lower leg, but he’s shorter. I’ll put my arm around your hips to steady you. It’s to keep you from falling; it’s not restraint. You must do this willingly, or I won’t do it.”

Miles managed another feeble nod and awkwardly draped himself across Josh’s lap. He felt the blood rush to his head as he tried to brace against the floor. Josh’s shoes were polished. What a stupid thought! He felt Josh’s hand on his back and the awful feeling of his boxers being pulled down. He had to stay here until Josh was done. He couldn’t do this. He started to struggle. The hands were instantly off his skin.

“I won’t hold you down. This is about submission and acceptance, not force.”

Miles stood up, his boxers partially down his thighs. He gasped for breath and felt the edge of tears prickling against his eyes. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been rude. I know I deserve it.” Miles felt the words leave him in a rush.

“Breathe, kid. Don’t talk. This isn’t about torturing yourself. I think you need Simon.”

“No, I can do this,” Miles said with sudden fierceness. “Steve can do this; I can do this.”

“Steve trusts me. You don’t. I won’t spank someone who sees this as torture.”

“Josh, please. I want to do this.” Miles grabbed for Josh’s arm. “I need to do this.”

“It would be better with Simon.”

“No. This is my problem, not Simon’s.”

“You’re partners; problems are dealt with together.”

“Please.”

“OK,” Josh said, uncertainty and reluctance evident in his tone. “Back over my knee.”

It was no easier the second time around. Josh’s thighs still pressed into Miles’s stomach, and he still couldn’t find purchase for his fingers on the floor.

“Are you with me?” Josh asked.

Miles nodded.

“No, I need a verbal answer.”

“Yes,” Miles croaked out.

“I’m going to put my arm around your hips and draw your boxers down. I want you to count aloud backwards from fifteen to seven.”

“What?”

“Jer does it. He says it helps. Go on.”

“Fifteen, fourteen.” Miles swallowed, trying to keep his breathing steady. Counting backwards while hanging upside down over a guy’s knees--this was crazy. “Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten. This is dumb.”

“Keep going.”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven.”

“Good. Why are we doing this?”

“Because I was rude. I was nasty to you in front of Steve.”

“This is about accepting and embracing your role in the community, taking care of both Steve and Simon, loving them the way I know you’re capable.”

The first swat fell, sending Mile’s lurching across Josh’s knees. It hurt more than he ever imagined, and it sounded like a gunshot, much louder that a quick swat across a fully clothed butt. It stung, mind numbingly stung. Miles wanted to think about Josh’s words about loving Simon and Steve, but all he could think about was the next sharp sting of flesh against flesh.

It was over quickly. Miles hadn’t fully registered the spanks had stopped falling when Josh raised his boxers and allowed him to slide to his knees between Josh’s legs.

“It’s OK. It’s all over.”

Miles tried to turn away, to bury his head in his own arms where no one could see the redness and the dampness on his cheeks. He wanted to cry, let childish tears overwhelm him.

“I spanked you; I hold you. This is not a choice,” Josh said firmly, running his hand over Miles’s head. 

“I’m OK,” Miles said, struggling to compose his face.

“And I play professional basketball and won the lottery,” Josh said wryly. “You’re supposed to feel tearful, wrung out, disoriented, and hopefully more at ease with yourself and with me after your mind settles. If you’re OK or fine, I didn’t do a good job of it.”

“Ugh.” Miles managed a faint smile and buried his head in Josh’s knees. It was too much work to fight right now. He felt all those things.

“Take all the time you need. I’m right here. I’m sure Milton’s figured out what ‘s going on and has a suitable excuse for the delay. Trent will have forgotten to turn the oven on or something. They know the drill.”

“They’ll all know,” Miles blurted out in horror.

“They have too good of manners to ask, or maybe more accurately they’re well aware of what will happen if they ask. You need to talk to Simon. He’s your lover, but he’s also the senior top in your outfit. Make him help you; he needs to take that role again. He’s very good, and it’s who he is. He can’t pretend to be something else; it will tear his soul apart.”

“He’s never topped with me.”

“I know.” Josh kissed the back of Miles’s head. “Do you want him to?”

Miles first thought was to blurt out no that he was a top and didn't need someone to top him. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to Simon. Gordon tops Milton sometimes; it doesn’t make Milton any less of a top. If Milton were any more of a top, we’d all be wearing leashes and collars. This is not one way traffic. Simon has many memories, many I don’t think he’s shared with you. He’ll need you as much as you’ll need him. Love him; support him. You are three now; you’ll all need each other. Tilden makes it work, but the man should be canonized and given a medal for bravery. We’re all here for you.”

“Simon knows; he wants to go back.”

“You don’t?” Josh asked, lifting Miles’s chin with his hand, so he had to look at Josh.

“We were told two tops couldn’t be together,” Miles muttered. “I love Simon. I don’t care that he’s a top.”

“Miles, we’ve all told you several times our interference was to protect you as Simon’s trainee. It was no different than a teacher and a student. We had to ensure both your safety. If you believe my meddling was only about my disapproval of two tops, no wonder you treated me like dirt. I know I pried into your life when you and Simon became a couple. I can see how this appeared as disapproval or even hatred. Blood runs hot during the passion of young love, even gentle questioning can seem hostile. I know my instinct is to be uncomfortable with two tops together, with threesomes, or with anything else that doesn’t fit the conventional top and brat pattern. Maybe I didn’t hide my underlying discomfort when I was only trying to assure your protection. That’s my fault and problem, not yours. We, the senior Green Mountain Boys, didn’t want to prohibit your relationship; we wanted to make sure you were entering into it with your eyes open. I take it we didn’t do a very good job of it. Simon hedged or more bluntly denied your relationship for months, and you decided I was a complete asshole who hated you on sight. You could have told me all this, and you probably wouldn’t have found yourself over my knees. Baby tops!” Josh kissed Miles’s forehead. “What a mess!”

“I don’t know,” Miles said, suddenly finding himself grinning. “It wasn’t all that bad over your knee, not that I want to find myself there often. It was enlightening in more ways than one.” Miles reached back and rubbed his butt. “How long does this hurt?”

“I didn’t do it all that hard. It will go away in an hour or two. The dining room chairs will be torture, though.”

“I have to sit.”

“You have to sit still like a perfect gentleman, unless of course you want to kneel. Kneeling is permissible after a spanking.”

“Not on your life.”

“You don’t seem like the kneeling type,” Josh said with an easy smile. “Let’s get to dinner before Milton and Simon decide I mauled you.” Josh pulled Miles to his feet and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug. 

“Thanks, Josh,” Miles managed to say as he let himself be crushed against Josh’s chest. 

Josh untangled Miles and pushed him toward his clothes. “Dress, rinse your face, and brush your hair. You’ll look fine. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Miles nodded. Mike had shown him earlier.

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Josh,” Miles said almost too softly for Josh to hear. “I’m serious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Josh turned and faced Miles. He ran his fingers through his short, gray hair and smiled almost apologetically. “I made hash of this to start, but I do want the three of you happy, and you are family now. So you’re stuck with me. The good and the bad. Come to dinner when you’re ready. I’ll make your excuses.”

“Thank you,” Miles said again, fumbling for his clothes with blurred eyes. 

“Oh, kid, don’t fall apart now. They will riot if they don’t eat soon.” Josh pulled Miles back into a tight hug. “Having your hair in a braid puts me off my game. I can’t tousle it.”

“I like my braid.”

“Ah, that sounds more like you. Are you going to lecture me on the establishment and hair lengths?”

“You’re teasing.”

“Very much. Pants. Shirt. Come on. Do you need help with your tie?”

“I thought you hated the way I looked,” Miles said, his shirt half buttoned.

“Miles,” Josh said gently. “We have five minutes before we’ll have a bread riot. My tastes are different than yours. It doesn’t make yours wrong and mine right. I grew up in a very different world, a world as a young man where being gay was still awkward, where my parents had never sat next to a black man at the dinner table, and they sure as hell had never met a black physicist. They weren’t racist; they just didn’t know. Jer was someone who lived somewhere else. He wasn’t the neighbors they knew. I’m not sure my parents ever fully understood we were more than roommates, or maybe more accurately they pretended not to understand. They could live better with an illusion and not a reality. They never had an inkling of our real relationship. We hid that side of ourselves. We hid for a long time, and as part of our camouflage we were very conservative, he the role model of a successful professional and me the construction guy. Maybe we were cowards, but it’s too late for me to change. My tastes have been molded by the life I led.”

“You’re out now.”

“That was Jer. He announced he was a submissive to protect Luke. He’s braver than I will ever be.”

“You’ve helped other young subs and tops.”

“Always on the quiet. I’m not a revolutionary. Milton has some of that fire and so do you. I’m not that brave.”

Miles pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. “I think you’re very brave. You loved and love a man that society told you was prohibited. All I do is have long hair and wear childish baubles.” Miles spun the bracelet on his wrist.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Josh said with a slight bite to his tone. “You have been pummeled today by us old and interfering tops trying to grab your psyche and shake it loose. You have acquitted yourself well, and I’m proud that you are a part of my family. Now dinner. You do not want to see a hungry Jer, and I don’t want to even imagine a hungry Blade. We’d need all the tops in New England to manage him.”