Texas, Our Texas 3

Texas, Our Texas

Chapter 3

Jonah put the phone down with exaggerated care. He wanted to toss the blasted thing, but Landon was standing there. It was one of Gordon’s rules. You didn’t throw things, and Landon was a tattletale. Gordon he understood; absolute obedience and Gordon was tolerable. Jonah understood following instructions. He bristled every time Gordon called him boy, but he’d survived worse. Stupid was one of the nicer things his father called him. He didn’t even want to imagine what his father would say to him now: openly gay and playing the role of the submissive.

“What’s the matter with you now?” Landon asked in that demanding tone that put Jonah’s nerves on edge. Landon was supposed to be a submissive, yet he talked to Jonah like he was no more worthy than a squashed bug. Gordon harped about respect, and his own partner was intolerably rude.

“None of your business,” Jonah snapped.

“I asked you a civil question. I expect a civil reply, boy.”

“I’m not anyone’s boy.”

“You’re Gordon’s boy, and you should be ever thankful for his kindness. I don’t like bullies, and I have no tolerance for abusers, and you, boy, are both. He thinks you’re worth saving; you’ve shown me nothing that’s changed my mind about you. The first train to Texas is too good for you. You’re stomping around here like a cantankerous hornet. I’d put most subs  over my knees for this behavior; maybe I should do the same with you.” 

“You have no right!” Jonah spat. 

“I have every right,” Landon said with irritating calmness. “I’m a switch, and you just blew through all my stop signs. I’m in dominant mode now, but that’s irrelevant. Submissives deserve respect and courtesy. A good and decent dominant respects his sub; he respects all subs. It takes strength and courage to be a sub; submissives are not lesser men.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me about courtesy and respect,” Jonah snarled, trying to hang onto the last threads of his temper. This wasn’t fair. His partner, his lover was going off to a bar tonight with complete strangers, and this wretched Landon was going on about manners. People with good manners didn’t take his partner to dangerous locations. Men were hurt in bars. He didn’t want to think about it. His Samuel--big strangers with chains and bats...

“Jonah, you’re being rude.” Landon’s voice was sharp, not the happy, disgusting chirpy tone he used with Braxton. That child was beyond obnoxious, and they doted on him. Jonah hadn’t met Jason yet, but he’d heard Braxton with his boyfriend on the phone. Braxton was shameless, teasing and flirting like a teenage girl.

Faggot, Jonah thought. They were all damn, wimpy faggots, and he was one of them. He couldn’t take care of his own partner; they’d had to intervene.

“Jonah if you kick the coffee table, all it will do is hurt your foot and send the books flying. It’s not a good move. Talk to me, boy.”

“Shut up, you fucking faggot!”

“Jonah, I don’t like you, and you seem determined to drive me from dislike to detest. You are here on sufferance, and you should remember that, my boy.”

Jonah kicked the table, several books sliding to the floor with a thump. He picked up the phone and hurled it against the wall.

“Gordon has a zero tolerance plan for temper tantrums. He spanks if you haven’t forgotten,” Landon said in a horribly polite and unhelpful voice.

 “Fuck the both of you!” Jonah grabbed a book still on the coffee table and slammed it down on the glass top with all his strength, shattering the glass and sending everything crashing to the floor.

“Stand still.” Landon’s tone wasn’t sharp; it wasn’t even loud, but it carried a weight that froze Jonah.

Jonah stared at the shards of glass. He’d broken the table; he’d thrown the phone. He’d seen his father shatter his mother’s antique vase inherited from her mother. He’d seen his father put a hole in the wall with his fist. Jonah didn’t do those things. He didn’t rage at the people he was supposed to love. 

“Jonah, look at me. Shh. Don’t yell. It will be OK. Look at me.”

“Yes,” Jonah whispered, unable to get his eyes up. He felt a hot flush of shame scorch his cheeks.

“Yes, you made a mess, but I’ve seen worse; I’ve done worse. It’s only the table and a little damage to the wall. We might need a new phone also, but we have plenty of those here.”

“What have I done?” Jonah asked in a tortured whisper.

“You lost your temper, threw the phone, and slammed a book down on the table.”

“There’s glass everywhere.” Jonah said, bewildered. “I did this.”

“Yes,” Landon said his voice placid.

“What’s wrong with me?” Jonah could hear the desperate, plaintive sound in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. He, a man of thirty-two, had just trashed a room like an irresponsible teenage or a man in a drunken rage. He was turning into his father. He’d sworn he’d never do that. 

“Come sit with me.”

“You hate me.” Jonah bit his lip and toed the broken glass.

“I was not kind earlier.”

“Why are you being kind now?” Jonah felt himself shake, and he dug his nails into his palm, trying to steady himself. He needed to go home. This wasn’t the place for him. This wasn’t the country for him. He wasn’t an American. He was a Texan. He belonged in Texas; he understood Texas. 

“You’re in pain. Please, Jonah.”

Jonah glanced up to see Landon looking at him with pleading blue eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. “You should be angry.”

“Only at myself,” Landon said ruefully. “I pushed you hard enough to make you come apart. That wasn’t kind, and I was lecturing you on manners. Talk about calling the kettle black.”

“There’s no excuse for this.” Jonah hung his head. A sharp wave of shame buffeted his already fragile and torn sense of himself. He’d sworn all his life he wouldn’t be his father, and now he’d done it twice in less than a week. He’d almost hit Gordon, and now he’d destroyed their home.

“That’s Gordon’s line,” Landon said with a gentle humor. “You need to stop beating yourself up. You’re Gordon’s boy. He’ll take care of it. He’s good at the beating up. You don’t need to add to it.” Landon smiled. “This would be a cane job for me, but with you I’ll think he’ll put you over his knee. It’s more intimate, and you need that.”

“I should go,” Jonah said, forcing his head up and drawing his shoulders back. “I don’t belong here.”

“Stop.” Landon moved quickly. His hand caught Jonah’s belt before he’d taken a step. 

“You can’t keep me here. Let go,” Jonah said, trying to find the voice of authority and feeling like a complete fake.

“What about Samuel?”

“I hurt Samuel. You said so yourself. He’d be better off with someone else. I can’t control my temper. I’m my father.” Jonah swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn’t going to disgrace himself any further. “Find someone who will take good care of him. I hurt him.”

“Running away will hurt him more.”

“No, it won’t. Look what I did.” Jonah swung his arm around, taking in the expanse of the destruction. He wiped his eyes, stopping a traitorous tear. “I beat Samuel when he was innocent. I’m not fit to be his partner. I not fit to be anyone's lover.”

“Milton said there were no marks on him. You didn’t beat him; you made a mistake, a big mistake, but it’s only a fatal flaw if you don’t learn from it. Gordon will make you learn if you give him half a chance. He understands you far better than I do. His father beat him and tossed him out at fifteen.”

“You think I’m an abuser.” Jonah should pull away. He had a few dollars in his pocket, enough for a train ticket home. He could make some excuse for the loss of Samuel. He was seduced by the evil homosexual agenda or something equally fanciful. Jonah would be believed. He was a big, strong guy from a good family. What a laugh! He couldn’t be a fag. Fags were weak and had toy poodles and fancy art.

“I was too harsh,” Landon said softly. “You committed abuse; I won’t sugar coat it, but you’re not a serial abuser. You want to do this right, and we won’t let you do it any other way. Now come sit down. I refuse to talk, standing in a pile of broken glass.”

“You weren’t too harsh,” Jonah choked. “I hurt Samuel. I wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, at least you only hurt the phone and the table. That’s an improvement.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not,” Landon said soberly. “A man has to manage his anger and fear. Samuel needs your steadiness. He is still very young.”

“What if I can’t do it?” Jonah flinched at the words. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. 

“Gordon and Milton will make you do it. They both had to master their temper. Milton broke a table, several chairs, and countless dishes. If he can learn, you can learn,” Landon said with an easy finality. “You can set off bombs around him now, and he hardly turns a hair. Not that he’s not intense. Braxton calls him freakily intense which I think describes him well, but he’s controlled and very safe. You must learn; Gordon will teach you.”

“I can’t,” Jonah whispered. “I’m too flawed.”

“Are you giving up?” Landon stepped back, letting go of Jonah’s belt. “I thought you were more of a man than that. I thought Samuel meant something to you. If you’re too much of a coward to face yourself, get on the next train. You’re not worth the time.”

Jonah doubled over, his hands on his knees, fighting for breath. “I can’t.” He jerked as Landon’s hand smacked against his thigh.

“Can’t is not an option. Samuel is counting on you. You brought him here; you don’t get to abandon him. Now get over on that sofa, sit with me, and tell me why you thought it was a good idea to start smashing things. What happened on the phone?” Landon shoved Jonah toward the sofa, not giving him a chance to catch his breath. “Talk. Who was on the phone?”

“Blade.”

“Oh,” Landon said with a small smile. “He’s scary, but he doesn’t drive most people to breakage.” 

Landon’s hand rested on the small of Jonah’s back, and he rubbed deeply. Landon never touched Jonah; it had always been Gordon with his implacable demands, Gordon who had spanked him and then touched him with such kindness. Landon didn’t like him; he only liked the submissives, but it was Landon who was now rubbing Jonah’s back.

“What did Blade say on the phone?” Landon asked in a calm voice that Jonah associated with Gordon and not Landon. 

Landon was a sub; he’d chased Braxton through the hall with a snowball until Gordon had put a stop to it. Jonah’s father hadn’t been close to as old as Landon, and he would never have brought snow in the house. That was for ill-behaved children.

“Jonah, I asked you a question.” Landon’s voice was soft. “I know you see me as a submissive, but I’m a dominant also. I can put you face down over my knees if it will make this easier.”

“No, please.” Jonah didn’t want to go over Landon’s knees. He should just get up and walk away, not beg for mercy. 

“Don’t struggle.” Landon pushed the hair off Jonah’s forehead, letting his fingers play with the short strands. “You should grow this out a little. It would look nice, cascading over your forehead.”

“I like my hair the way it is,” Jonah muttered and jerked away from Landon’s hand.

“Don’t pull away.” Landon moved closer to Jonah, trapping him between the sofa arm and his thigh. “I’m being kind. A boy who pulls away from his dominant  and sulks can be spanked, is asking to be spanked. Is that what you want? Does it make it easier for you?”

“No, you don’t have the right,” Jonah shouted.

“I have every right,” Landon said and patted Jonah’s thigh just hard enough to create a small sting. “Gordon’s boys answer to me also. You broke our table, threw our phone into the wall, and now you’re resisting me. I have every right to discipline you.”

“I’m not Gordon’s boy,” Jonah insisted, trying to pull his tattered dignity around himself. He was no one’s boy.

“Jonah, I know the arrangements. The less time you spend pretending the easier it will be for you. You treated your partner unfairly. You abused him.”

“I love Samuel.”

“If you love Samuel, you will let us help you, not fight us.” Landon grabbed Jonah’s chin and forced the Texan to look at him. “Lovers don’t harm their partners. A dominant cherishes his partner; he cherishes the gift of submission. He doesn’t abuse that gift.”

“I love Samuel,” Jonah whispered, wanting to pull away from Landon’s grip, but forcing himself to remain still. 

“Good boy.” Landon stroked Jonah’s cheek.

“I hate that,” Jonah said, trying to glare at Landon, but knowing his expression was more weak and tearful than masterful.

 “I know you do.” Landon patted Jonah’s cheek. “Tough. It’s your lot until I trust you, and I’m a long way from trusting you with Samuel. I like Samuel; he’s a sweet boy. You, I don’t know.” Landon paused and rubbed his fingers down Jonah’s cheek. “Gordon thinks you’re worth it, and I trust his judgment. I’m his boy; it’s my duty to trust his judgment.”

Jonah folded his hands together, refusing to either crack his knuckles or pluck at his pants. He’d seen Gordon talk with Braxton; it was more of an interrogation, and the boy always plucked at his pants as his face turned hot. Jonah was an adult; he took care of himself. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be browbeaten into revealing his private thoughts.

“What happened with Blade on the phone?”

“Nothing. Samuel went out with Milton.” Jonah fought to keep his voice steady; he wasn’t going to let Landon know. Brian--his Brian.

“Milton’s a combination of a saint and a linebacker. I couldn’t think of anyone safer for Samuel to go with. Are you jealous?”

“No, it’s not that,” Jonah said quickly.

“What is it?” Landon rubbed the nape of Jonah’s neck. “You feel like you want to jump out of your skin. Most boys would rather talk to me than Gordon. Gordon’s very quick to put them over his knees. Maybe you need that.”

“No!” Jonah suppressed a shudder. Gordon had not been merciful this week without Samuel here. Tonight was the first time he hadn’t been at Gordon’s feet or worse over his knee. Gordon called everything--fucking breathing-- defiance. Gordon would have already spanked Jonah to a flaming red. Landon was being patient and kind, far more patient and kind than Jonah had any right to. Landon had made it clear the first night that his priority was Samuel, yet he hadn’t called Gordon or spanked Jonah himself. He’d tried to talk and offer comfort. It was Jonah who was resisting. Jonah felt a flush rise up his neck, and he tried to turn away, to hide his shame.

“Don’t turn away.” Landon swatted Jonah’s hip hard enough to cause him to flinch.

“I can’t do this.” Jonah swiped viciously at his eyes.

“Fine. Pack. I’m not wasting my time with someone who won’t try. I’ll find someplace for you to stay.” Landon stood and pulled Jonah to his feet. 

“Please?” Jonah didn’t know why he was pleading. He couldn’t name what he wanted.

“Jonah, what do you want? Do you want Gordon? Is he easier for you to talk to?”

Jonah nodded, feeling tears trickle down his cheeks. 

“Go sit on your bed, cross-legged, hands on your knees.” Landon gave Jonah a small push toward the boys’ room. “This only works if you try.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” Landon said with no sympathy.

******

“Boy, I take it that’s your mess in the living room.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Do we throw things in a temper?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you refuse to answer our questions?”

“No, sir.” Jonah swallowed at Gordon’s steady gaze. He didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look forgiving.

“Boy, you have to apply yourself to make this work. Landon believes you’re not trying. Should I think any differently?”

“Don’t make me leave,” Jonah said, overwhelmed with panic and shame, no longer able to suppress the tears.

“Over my knee.” Gordon sat on the bed and patted his thigh. 

“I don’t want this. I don’t like being spanked.”

“Good, we’ve established you’re not a masochist. Landon, I’m sure, gave you several opportunities to talk to him. You refused, so now we do it this way, or you leave. I’m out on a limb here, my lad, trying to save you. Milton thinks you abused your boy. Landon would like to drop kick you back to Texas. I’m your only friend, boy. Now over my knee.”

Jonah went. He wasn’t sure why. He was stronger, faster, and younger than Gordon. Gordon couldn’t make Jonah take a spanking, but maybe it was Gordon’s quiet expectations that it was going to happen that made Jonah reluctantly drop his pants and  lower himself over Gordon’s thighs. His father had always grabbed him, shouting insults and even slapping him across the face. Gordon only waited, his face calm, almost kind.

Jonah shivered as Gordon slid his boxers off in a practiced tug. He tensed expecting the first blow, but Gordon’s hand only rubbed Jonah’s back.

“I’m going to spank you, not beat you, my boy,” Gordon said, his hand still caressing Jonah’s back. “We’ve done this several times. Why the terror?”

“I don’t like this.” Jonah could hear the whine in his voice. Why hadn’t he stayed quiet? He could take this. It was only Gordon’s hand.

“Why am I spanking you?”

Jonah dropped his head, not wanting to answer. He didn’t want to talk; he just wanted it over. He flinched as a sharp swat landed on his thigh.

“My lad, silence is not acceptable.”

He couldn’t talk to Gordon. Jonah’s behavior was too humiliating, too childish, too brat-like. He didn’t throw things, and he couldn’t think of Brian. It still hurt too much. He wasn’t sharing that. They’d laugh at his fears. They couldn’t understand; they didn’t grow up in Texas. They ran around flaunting their sexuality. 

“Boy, I can do this far longer than you can.” Gordon landed another hard swat on the exact same spot.

It hurt. Two little swats and he was already flinching. He was a useless wimp.

“Stubborn today. I know how to do stubborn. I’m married to Landon, and I mentored Milton. He is the most stubborn creature who ever walked this planet.” Gordon landed a flurry of spanks, all landing on the same spot which was becoming excruciatingly tender. “Why am I spanking you?”

Jonah bit his lip. He wasn’t going to answer; he could control this.

“Ah, we’re doing this the hard way. Very well, I am far more comfortable than you.” 

Gordon landed a series of hard spanks. Jonah bucked and hissed. He bit his lip hard, tasting a warm trickle of his own blood.

“Are you ready to talk, boy?”

“No.”

“Very well.” Gordon landed another set of spanks down the thighs.

Jonah couldn’t stop the yips. How could a hand hurt like this? He didn’t want to talk; Gordon couldn’t make him. Jonah braced his muscles, willing himself to endure.

“Corner. Hands on your head.” Gordon unceremoniously pushed Jonah off his lap. “Pull up your shorts; Leave off your pants.”

“You have no right.” Jonah tried to glare at Gordon, but he was too sore. He knew his eyes were wet with shameful tears.

“You are in my care which gives me the right,” Gordon said as he guided Jonah into the corner. “I will not mark you, and if I spank you more, I will bruise you. Now stand here and think.”

“No.” Jonah spun around and started to push past Gordon.

“Do you love Samuel?” Gordon asked, not moving.

“It’s none of your business,” Jonah snapped. “I’m done with this.”

“If you walk by me, I will forbid Samuel from associating with you.”

“You have no right. That’s blackmail!”

“Call it what you will. I do not make idle threats. Now, stand in that corner, boy,” Gordon rapped out.

Jonah hesitated, uncertain. 

Gordon canted his head, his voice soft. “Jonah, make the right choice. I understand you’re angry with me, but don’t abandon Samuel because you’re angry with me.”

It was the quietness, the absolute sureness of Gordon that made the decision for Jonah.  He turned toward the corner, staring at the white paint. He’d seen Braxton put in the corner. It seemed like such a childish punishment. What was the purpose of staring at the paint? 

“Thank you, Jonah.”

Why was Gordon thanking him? Jonah was in trouble. What a stupid phrase for an adult to use. Jonah shifted; his butt and thighs hurt. He could feel the strain on his shoulders from his hands over his head. How long was he going to have to stand here?

“Breathe, Jonah. Relax your shoulders and let your hands rest on your head. This isn’t about pain; this is about reflection. If I wanted to create pain, I would have used the cane. I think both you and Samuel have had too much pain in your life.”

Jonah heard the bed creak. Gordon must have sat down. Jonah wanted to look around, to plead to leave the corner, but he wasn’t going to give Gordon that satisfaction. Jonah could out wait that arrogant dominant.

The paint was still white and endlessly boring. Samuel at a bar. He should be safe with Jonah. Brian. No he wasn’t going to think about Brian. The smile, the freckles across his nose. Jonah felt the tears leak from his eyes. He couldn’t think about Brian; he was gone. He needed to focus on Samuel; he could protect Samuel.

Jonah felt a warm hand massage his shoulders and heard Gordon’s voice in his ear. “It’s easier if you talk to me. Come sit with me.”

Jonah shook his head in a sharp snap and tried to hide the tears. What was wrong with him? Girly boy, he thought bitterly.

Jonah lurched toward the bed as Gordon jerked his wrist. He was tumbled over Gordon’s knees, and his boxers were around his ankles before he had a chance to struggle. He heard the grunt deep in his chest as the first hard spank fell.

“We are not doing this all night. Talk.” Gordon landed another crisp spank on Jonah’s already burning butt.

Jonah couldn’t stop the tears. It hurt too much. He dropped his head, choked by uncontrollable sobs. Gordon didn’t seem to care; he just kept laying blow after blow over the already impossibly sore skin. “Stop. Please. It hurts.” That was Jonah’s voice, weak and pleading. He didn’t sound like this. He was a man after all. Oh God, the corner would be better than this. Anything would be better than this. It hurt so much, and it was only a hand. He’d used a belt on Samuel. Samuel didn’t cry like this. Samuel would jerk his pants up and go hide in their room. Jonah had called it sulking. Had he been crying alone? God had he made his boy cry? Had he not known? He wanted to protect Samuel. He loved Samuel. “I can’t do this.”

“I know it hurts.” Gordon was no longer spanking, but his still hand rested on Jonah’s overheated flesh, a silent threat. “Why are we doing this?”

Jonah wanted to get up. He wanted to wipe the tears and snot off his face, but Gordon hadn’t released his hand. Was he going to spank him more? Jonah couldn’t take any more.

“Not done yet?” Gordon landed another series of stinging spanks. “Do you need more time in the corner?”

“No.” This was awful, but standing looking at those white walls and only being able to focus on the sting in his butt was worse. In the corner, he was alone.

“Why are we doing this?” Jonah tried to lever himself upright. “No, the choice is here or in the corner. Which will it be?”

“Here.” Jonah sighed, sinking down against the scratchy wool.

Gordon’s hand never left the tortured flesh, his voice was steady, demanding but with no trace of anger. “Why are we here, boy?”

“I broke the table,” Jonah choked out as Gordon tapped on the throbbing flesh. The stroke was no harder than a light pat, but on the already heated flesh it felt electric.

“Why?”

Jonah shook his head. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer.

Gordon pushed Jonah’s thighs apart, and his hand landed quickly on the unblemished, tender flesh. Jonah whimpered and tried to close his legs. A very hard blow to the tortured back of his thighs jerked his head up, and an involuntary scream left his throat.

“Leave you legs open. You don’t want me hitting there again, do you?” Gordon stroked the spot, he’d just brutally hit.

Jonah spread his legs, knowing he was shamefully exposed. He whimpered as Gordon’s hand dropped between his thighs. The light tattoo of smacks stung.

“That’s a nice pink now. Do I need to make them red?”

“No,” Jonah gasped.

“Yes, little boy.” Gordon landed another flurry of taps; Jonah writhed over Gordon’s lap. Twice he started to shut his thighs but a hard blow to the crown of his butt drove them open. “Are you ready to be honest, my lad?” Gordon’s hand was warm against Jonah’s stinging thigh.

“Don’t spank me. Please” Jonah wanted to flinch at the pitiful whine in his voice, but he was too exhausted. He felt done in, his nosed clogged with snot and his entire backside throbbing.

“Talk to me.” Gordon’s hands ghosted against the tender skin.

“I hate you.”

“Fair enough in this position, but not productive when your skin in already an angry red. I will not do damage. Do I need to spank the front of your thighs?”

“No.” He wasn’t going to allow Gordon to see his face. It was bad enough pressed into the now sodden coverlet. 

“Don’t struggle, or I’ll do it. Jonah, I know it’s easier for you to talk when you don’t have to look at me. Don’t force me to make it more difficult for you.”

“It hurts,” Jonah whimpered, but stopped struggling

“Good boy. Why are we doing this?”

“Milton took Samuel to a bar.” Oh God. Brian. He’d been such a coward. He could have stopped him. All he had to do was say he loved him and not hidden behind the safety of Sarah’s skirts and disgustingly too tight sweaters.

“Are you jealous?” Gordon probed.

“No.”

“Why is it so upsetting?”

“I miss Samuel. I don’t like him going places without me. Ouch!” Jonah jerked from the crisp slap.

“You just told me you weren’t jealous. I’d recommend the truth. Your position here is precarious.”

“I do miss Samuel,” Jonah protested.

“Stand up.”

“No. Please.”

“I told you what would happen.”

“I’m exposed. Please don’t make me.”

Gordon pulled Jonah to his feet in one smooth motion, landed four hard slaps to the front of Jonah’s thighs, and dropped him back into place. The wool stung against the reddened spots. “Next time I won’t be so generous with your feelings.”

Generous, Jonah wanted to snort, but he felt too shaky, too violated, too abused to do more than lie across the scratchy wool and snivel.

“Why can’t Samuel go to a bar? What happened in your past? I’m not totally unfamiliar with Texas’s social mores. That’s a far too kind way to describe the county’s perversion, the organized terror unleashed on those deemed to be different. You’re safe here, and Samuel is very safe with Milton. Someone touches your boy, and Milton will have no trouble breaking the villain into small pieces with great relish. He is fiercely protective.”

“It’s not safe.” Jonah squirmed over Gordon’s knees. No place was comfortable. He’d let this guy spank him; he’d given him permission, and now he was going to draw shameful secrets from Jonah, to make him talk about things he hadn’t even told Samuel.

“What’s not safe? Bars aren’t safe? Were you attacked in a bar? Were you exposed for being gay?”

“Brian.”

“Was Brian your first lover?”

Jonah shook his head. He’d never said a word to Brian, the beautiful boy who sat next to Jonah and flipped his pen through the tedious lectures, the boy who never knew he was Jonah’s first crush, the boy who died because he couldn’t be alone any longer. They had studied together, cheered the Longhorns in football and basketball, and drunk endless cups of coffee with overly sweet muffins, but nothing more. Jonah had been a coward. He’d never said he saw that freckled face in his dreams, that he longed to kiss those soft lips.

“Jonah stay with me.” Gordon rubbed briskly on Jonah’s tenderized flesh. “Tell me about Brian.”

“He was a friend in college,” 

“I think he was far more than that. You couldn’t protect him. Am I right?”

“They found out.”

“They found out he was gay.” Gordon rubbed Jonah’s back. “Tell me. You’re very safe here.”

Safe! Jonah wanted to laugh. Safe with a madman who had spanked him raw and still held him pinned over his thighs. 

“Yes, I know safe seems like an odd choice of words when you’re arse up over my knees. You’re one of us. Nothing awful will happen here. Tell me about Brian.”

“I told you.”

“No you didn’t.” Gordon landed a spank to emphasize each word.

“I’m sore.” Jonah gasped.

“Your choice, Jonah.”

“Brian was beautiful. I never told him.” Jonah squirmed in Gordon’s tight grip. “I tried to pretend I was straight. He went out and was caught. His parents sent him to rehab. That’s what they like to call it down there. He killed himself. I never even told him.” Jonah’s body shook with sobs. He couldn’t stop himself. There was nothing left. He was a failure. He hadn’t protected Brian, and they had to protect Samuel from him.

“It’s all right to cry.” Gordon’s voice was pitched to be heard over the sobs. “You couldn’t mourn, not down there. They would have found out. I understand.”   

Jonah let himself be maneuvered into Gordon’s arms. His head pressed into the man’s chest. 

“I’ve got you. You’re safe here,” Gordon murmured, stroking the tangled, brown hair. 

Jonah finally lay still, unabashedly seeking the comfort in the older top’s arms. Gordon hadn’t complained about the weak, sniveling man clinging to him like a small child. Gordon had stroked him and rocked him without a word of complain, even now he held Jonah firmly, has hand gliding sympathetically down Jonah’s back.

“Why are you still here? I don’t deserve this.” Jonah knew he should pull away. He hurt the people he was supposed to love. Gordon wouldn’t have sympathy for him once he understood better.

“Yes, you do.” Gordon stroked Jonah’s cheek before landing a kiss on his forehead. “I punished you hard. Now I must offer comfort, not only for you but for me.”

“I deserved it. I’m a failure,” Jonah said bitterly.

“Boy, do I need to spank you again?” Gordon’s voice was sharp, and he tilted Jonah’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“No.” Jonah gulped. He couldn’t take any more. He felt new tears spill onto his cheeks.

“Shh. I got you. You don’t insult yourself, young man. You took a very hard spanking. You deserve care and protection.”

“I didn’t protect Brian. I’ve hurt Samuel.”

“Brian was not your fault. You were not the despicable people who sent him off to be brutalized in the name of a sexual norm.” Gordon tangled his fingers in Jonah’s hair and tugged lightly. “Look at me. You made mistakes with Samuel. Terrible mistakes, I won’t pretend otherwise, but they are not irreparable. I can teach you if you will learn. It won’t be easy. It will feel like I’m ripping your soul apart, but if you love Samuel, it will be worth it.”

“I love Samuel. I can’t lose him.” Jonah stared into the appraising brown eyes. Gordon was so steady, so calm, so implacable. “Please help me,” Jonah whispered, shutting his eyes tightly, fearing the revulsion and rejection on Gordon’s face.

“Good boy.” Gordon’s lips brushed against Jonah’s forehead. “Open your eyes, please.”

Jonah struggled to open his eyes; it was far easier not to look. He didn’t want to see the pity. Gordon had to know he’d made a mistake keeping this useless person around. They should just get on with it and find someone for Samuel, precious boy.

“Good boy,” Gordon repeated when Jonah forced his eyes to the older top. “We can do this together. I am not an easy man. You will hate me at times, but I won’t give up if you don’t. Now in bed with you, my lad. It’s late. You can tender your apologies to Landon later. He tempers my harder instincts. You want him as a friend. In the future, I would recommend listening to him. His advice is given with less pain than mine.”

Jonah let Gordon guide him into bed. He struggled to find a comfortable position, finally curling up on his side, his arms around the pillow in a hug far less comforting than Samuel’s warm presence. Jonah had never wanted to cuddle, but now he longed for the weight of Samuel’s head on his chest, for Samuel’s sweet breath tickling his throat.

“Sleep, boy, Gordon murmured and kissed Jonah’s hair.

******

Gordon rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the ache. He knew his reputation was as a dragon, but he didn’t like punishing the way he had tonight. He’d come terribly close to marking Jonah with bruises. Spanking was about creating the right mindset, not breaking someone with pain.

“Rough?” Landon asked, drawing his partner down to sit with him.

“Where’s Braxton?”

“I sent him to spend the night with Eric and Xavier. I thought this might frighten him.”

“You’re right,” Gordon said with a bitter laugh. “I hurt Jonah tonight. The poor boy.”

“He hurt Samuel. He’s not truthful with us. He deserved it.”

Gordon sighed and rubbed his hand on his pants. It still stung, and he could see a slight swelling in his palm. “That boy has a lot of baggage.”

“He hurt Samuel. Focus on that.”

“I wish it was that easy.” Gordon leaned against Landon. “Milton might be better with him.”

“You’re the best person I know with an errant top. He’s been hurt. You understand.” Landon brushed his lips against Gordon. “He trusts you. He wouldn’t say a word to me.”

“I pummeled him tonight.”

“Did he talk to you?”

“Finally. The poor boy. Those bastards in Texas!”

“You understand what it is to survive bastards. You survived your father.”

“It was worse for Jonah. I escaped at fifteen”

“Your father threw you out at fifteen.”

“Exile wasn’t bad. Most people would hardly consider a completely financed education the same as tossed into the street or sent for reparative therapy.”

“This is not a competition for degree of awfulness in your life,” Landon said, sliding closer and kissing Gordon’s ear before nibbling down his neck.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Gordon said, trying to push Landon off.

“No? I think you need to remember you’re loved. You need this.” Landon traced his hand over Gordon’s crotch, knowing his partner’s sensitive spots.

“Landon.”

“Shh. Let me take care of you. Remind you what you can give Jonah and Samuel. You might have to hurt him now, but if you can give him this, it will be worth it.” Landon slid to his knees, his hands stimulating Gordon as he unbuckled his partner’s belt and lowered his trousers. With the ease of many years practice, he took Gordon into his mouth.

“Boy, you are getting pushy. We’ll deal with your attitude tomorrow,” Gordon said, catching his fingers into Landon’s hair and driving deeper into the warm heat.