Texas, Our Texas 4

Texas, Our Texas

Chapter 4

“Landon, make reservations for a suite of three rooms at The Forest.”

Landon stared out the window to the flat gray of a Vermont winter. A little time in the city would be fun, but they didn’t have any pressing business. While they held a hefty portion of the stock in The Forest, they rarely frequented the establishment. It was the most discreet private men’s club in the city, well known for catering to a very special clientele. Being attracted to the same sex didn’t raise an eyebrow; openly living in a power exchange raised eyebrows, but polite people didn’t ask; enjoying whips and other accoutrements was still considered unusual by most and best kept hidden from fellow traders, lawyers, or bankers. Especially if your inclination rested on the sub side of the spectrum, Landon thought wryly, not that it couldn’t be used as an advantage. Back in his days, Landon had left several fools tightening their belt and sighing over an empty bank account after assuming the lowly submissive was a pushover.

“Landon, did you hear me?” Gordon asked sharply. “Is there an orgy outside the window I don’t know about, or do I need to work on you being more attentive?”

“When?” Landon asked, snapping his eyes back to Gordon. With Jonah around, he didn’t want Gordon taking him down. Landon didn’t trust showing that side of his nature around the Texan. Jonah had been very quiet the last week. He’d apologized to Landon and did truly seem ashamed of his behavior, but he was now too quiet for Landon’s liking, trailing after Gordon with his eyes down like a whipped puppy. Landon had tried to talk to him, but Jonah found a polite excuse to be elsewhere, and Landon didn’t think Gordon had been much more successful. Jonah had been embarrassed by his display of temper, but now he seemed more reticent than ever. He was following all of Gordon’s dictates, but it was as if it wasn’t touching the real Jonah.

“Friday and Saturday night.”

“Are we taking Jonah?” Landon tried to imagine what Gordon had planned. Gordon had taken Jonah down hard since the table incident, but Landon couldn’t imagine public play with the terse Texan. Gordon believed the sub should enjoy himself, and unless Landon was losing his knack Jonah still  enjoyed nothing of the sub role. He didn’t seem to even allow himself the security they were both trying to show him.

“Yes.”

“Fun,” Landon said sarcastically. “What is this supposed to accomplish?”

“Jonah needs to find his identity. I don’t think beating it into him is appropriate.”

“Tempting as it might be,” Landon said with a small smile.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your last comment. It wasn’t kind.”

“Jonah’s not kind.”

“Landon,” Gordon said sharply. “Do you need something from me?”

“No, I’m good.” Landon idly straightened the books on the end table. Gordon and Jonah had the same taste in books, boring histories and autobiographies. Landon liked something a little racier.

“Good?” Gordon repeated, his eyebrows rising. “Snappish, distracted, fidgety. I didn’t realize those were synonyms for good. Come.” Gordon patted the sofa cushion next to him. “Jonah’s with Eric for the morning doing the accounting for the rental shop.”

“Being kept out of the way,” Landon muttered under his breath.

“What’s that, boy?”

“Nothing,” Landon snapped. He knew where this was going, and he was none too sure that he agreed with the plan.

“Ah, my lad, a good spanking is definitely in order. It’s the perfect cure for mulish and snappish boys.” Gordon held out his hand.

Landon debated refusing to take it, but that would result in real punishment, the kind that made sitting a distant memory. This was still in the not so bad category, and Gordon was usually--no always--right about these things. Landon needed a little spanking, and a little spanking was a hell of a lot better than a big spanking. Landon stood and took Gordon’s hand, letting Gordon guide him over to his dominant’s right side.

“Right. Off with your pants and shorts.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“Do you argue with me, boy?”

“No, sir.” Landon shed his clothes. He never folded them, and Gordon had stopped insisting.  He draped himself over Gordon’s knee, struggling to find a comfortable spot. He should know by now that no place was comfortable.

Gordon’s hand stoked down over Landon’s butt and between his thighs. “Spread them for me. That’s my good boy.”

Landon sighed and spread his legs. He was in the position; nothing was going to stop Gordon from spanking him. He might as well relax and accept it. This wasn’t really punishment, at least not yet. If he fought it, Gordon would make it punishment. Landon dropped his head, letting the tension go out of his body as he reached for Gordon’s leg for balance. At least today his man was in corduroys and not wool, even the fine dress wool was scratchy on bare skin.

Gordon’s hand slapped the tender skin on the inside of Landon’s thighs. Landon squirmed and widened his leg more. He hated being spanked there, and Gordon knew it. Landon hated being this exposed, this vulnerable. Even the softest slaps stung and made him wiggle.

“Whose boy are you?”

“Yours, sir,” Landon said, spreading his legs farther as Gordon’s hand slid down to float across his balls before returning upwards in a series of light spanks.

“Did you need this, my boy?”

“Yes,” Landon grunted as Gordon landed a harder spank on the crest of his rump. Gordon landed a flurry of spanks, not severe but not love taps either. Landon writhed over Gordon’s lap, trying to dodge the force of the hand, but knowing it was impossible. Gordon was too practiced at this; he knew which way Landon would move.

The swats stopped, but Gordon’s hand continued to rest on the warmed flesh. “Are you my polite, good boy?”

“Yes, sir.” Gordon had been right; he needed this. Jonah had him on edge. He had everyone on edge. “Pity this doesn’t work for Jonah?”

Gordon’s hand landed hard, a crisp tattoo of spanks. “You, my lad, are over my lap, not Jonah.” Landon yipped as a particularly hard blow landed. “Right, boy. Let’s hear you sing.”

Damn! Gordon was going to turn him red; pink wasn’t going to be adequate. Landon yipped again as Gordon hit a particularly sensitive spot. “I’ll be a good boy,” Landon pleaded as Gordon’s hand swatted swiftly. “Please, I’m your good boy.”

Landon’s rump was hot and sore, and he was on the edge of tears when Gordon’s hand stopped, and Landon felt him shift. “Don’t paddle me. Please don’t paddle me?”

“Whose decision is it?”

“Yours,” Landon said softly, hanging limply over Gordon’s knee.

“Trust me. I know what you need, my lad.” 

A lubed finger thrust into Landon’s tight hole. He squirmed as he automatically spread his legs. “Oh God,” he chanted as a second and third finger were added, readying him with quick efficiency. 

“Over the sofa arm.”

To be taken like this wasn’t common in their golden years. Landon let out a gasp as Gordon’s cock slid home. The two old farts, they usually did this in bed, better for the aching joints.

“Don’t touch yourself, boy.”

“Shit,” Landon groaned, but obediently reached forward, curling his fingers around the sofa cushions. He was lost in the feeling of Gordon taking him, owning him. He panted under Gordon’s weight and fierce thrusts.

“Mine,” Gordon growled and came hard. He momentarily slumped against Landon’s back before withdrawing, flipping his boy around and stroking Landon’s hard shaft. “Still pretty and hard for me. Maybe I should leave you that way, remind you who you belong to.” Gordon grinned wickedly

“Oh God, no,” Landon said semi-coherently, desperate for more friction.

“Oh, yes.” Gordon fell to his knees, his tongue grazing the sensitive tissue before taking it firmly in his mouth.

Landon shuddered before spurting into Gordon’s mouth. He collapsed back onto the sofa: spent, jelly kneed, and he knew with a silly grin on his face. Gordon could still do this to him.

“My beautiful, precious boy.” Gordon sprawled on the sofa, pulling Landon against him and covering them both with a blanket.

Landon woke to a firm kiss on the forehead and Gordon’s brown eyes laughing at him. “Sleeping beauty ready to start the day again? In a better mood this time?” Gordon teased.

Landon groaned. “I’m sore. There’s something in my contract about no making out on the sofa after sixty.”

“Brat.” Gordon laughed and landed a swat on Landon’s thigh. “Up with you, or I’ll really have to make you sore.”

“Ogre.”

“Yes, but I’m your ogre.”

Landon rolled out of the way of a lazy swat, pulling the blanket around him as he rose to his feet.

“Drop the blanket. I want to see if I made you a pretty color.”

“Tyrant.” Landon dropped the blanket and turned to give Gordon a view of his rump.

“Lovely, bright pink. Next time I think we might need red. You still are a bit sassy, boy.”

“You like me sassy.” Landon grinned and turned back to face Gordon. He wasn’t going to tempt his partner any longer with his pink butt. Gordon did prefer red.

“My boy,” Gordon said fondly. “Shower and we’ll make plans for the weekend.”

******

Landon looked out the train window as they sped toward civilization. Neither of them liked to drive the car in the city: too many irate cabbies cursing in a myriad of languages that even Tilden couldn’t recognize and pedestrians popping off the sidewalks loaded down with shopping bags or too busy answering blaring cell phones to notice a car. It was much easier to take the train and let The Forest’s car service deliver them to the door.

Jonah sat across from them looking tense and unhappy. He didn’t like cities or so Landon had surmised. The guy didn’t like anything as far as Landon could tell, and each time Gordon’s hand absently stroked Landon’s thigh, Jonah tensed.

“He’s being discreet; stop being a prude. It’s not like we’re having a public orgy,” Landon said, intentionally snuggling closer to Gordon.

“Behave,” Gordon growled. “Good boys don’t fight on trains.”

Jonah flushed wildly at the appellation boy, and Landon could see the flash of anger in Jonah’s eyes before he suppressed it. Jonah tried to hide his anger rather than accepting and working through it. Landon knew Gordon had been pushing Jonah hard, ratcheting up the demands daily, trying to force Jonah to express his feelings, but he was mostly met with rigid silence. Jonah would kneel, eat the boys’ peanut butter sandwiches, and even go uncomplaining over Gordon’s knee, but since the table breaking incident, he had grown more silent. Landon had tried to talk to Jonah and even the chatterbox Braxton couldn’t get more than uncommunicative grunts from the Texan. 

“Come here,” Gordon pointed to the seat next to him.

Jonah started to shake his head, his eyes frantic.

Gordon leaned forward, closing the space between the two of them. “If I have to spank you on the train, people will notice. They will not notice three men sitting close. Now get over here. I won’t ask nicely again.”

Landon could see the struggle in Jonah’s face. It was obvious he wanted to refuse, or perhaps more directly he would be happy to take a swing at the tormenting Gordon. Jonah set his jaw and shifted seats. He tried to keep his body as far away from Gordon as possible. Gordon was having none of it and wrapped an arm around Jonah, pulling him close in a platonic hug.

“Relax, my lad.”

“I don’t like this,” Jonah said through gritted teeth.

“You’ll like it a lot less if you make me spank you,” Gordon said placidly, stroking his fingers through Jonah’s thick, dark hair.

“We’re in public,” Jonah hissed, flinching at each touch.

“This is America. We are doing nothing inappropriate.”

“I hate this.” Landon thought he caught of glimpse of tears before Jonah blinked them back. 

“Shh. I know you do,” Gordon said softly, his hand now resting on Jonah’s thigh. “Accept it. You don’t have a choice.”

“I hate this,” Jonah repeated, but didn’t pull away.

“You would hate making a scene more,” Gordon said, his thumb rubbing circles above Jonah’s hip. “You’ll sit here and take it because you don’t want everyone on the train knowing you’re a gay man. You don’t want anyone knowing you’re a gay man. You don’t even want to admit it to yourself. You’re gay; you love other men; you want to be touched by other men. It’s not shameful; it is who you are. I’m gay. I love Landon. I’m a dominant. I like being in control; I like seeing other men writhe under my power. I also like protecting them and making them happy. What do you like? Who are you?” Gordon dropped his hand to the inner thigh, still within acceptable contact for a public place, but more than pushing Jonah’s boundaries.

“I don’t like this,” Jonah tried to close his legs but a quick slap opened them again. “I don’t want to be touched in public,” he hissed.

“Accept it, boy. Who are you?”

“I’m not your boy. I’m not anyone’s boy!”

“I don’t recommend shouting in public unless you want to attract everyone’s attention.”

“You bastard!”

“I’ve been called worse,” Gordon said with a thin smile. “Don’t look away. I’ll start to put my hand places that are less acceptable in public. I’m sure I could get you hard if I worked at it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“He would,” Landon said softly. “I’m his boy; I should know.” Landon saw both surprise and raw horror on Jonah’s face. “Yes, I’m proud to be Gordon’s boy. I’m proud that I’m Gordon’s submissive.”

“Some of the time,” Gordon said with a chuckle. “I have to remind you of your place occasionally.”

“And you do. That’s why this works.”

“My lad,” Gordon said, his features softening. “We’re good together.”

“Jonah, are you good with Samuel?” Landon asked. “Somehow I have trouble seeing it.”

“Landon,” Gordon warned.

“He’s a rigid prick. Milton says Samuel’s afraid of everything. Sheldon and Blade together can’t get the boy to brat. Jonah beat it out of him.”

“Not everybody enjoys acting like a juvenile fool,” Jonah spat. “Samuel’s not a child.”

“Stop it.” Gordon’s voice was sharp, but not loud. “Landon, I expect better of you. We will be discussing this later.”

Landon dropped his head in silent acknowledgment of Gordon’s order. He had gone too far; he knew it, and Gordon had every right to rein him in no matter how much he disliked the rigid Texan beside his partner.

Gordon turned toward Jonah, his voice firm. “Sheldon is no fool nor is he a child. He embraces who he is. Something you and Samuel have never done. You have hidden all your life and forced Samuel to hide also. It may have been appropriate in Texas, but it’s not here. You may not hide from me. You may not hide from your peers. It is not acceptable.” Gordon patted Jonah’s cheek. “Now go sit back where you were and get your head sorted.”

****

“You have me alone now that you sent Samuel off in search of drinks, or as alone as you’re going to get me.” The Friday evening train from Boston to New York was packed. They had been lucky to get three seats together. Milton was squashed tightly into the window seat. His knees pressed uncomfortably into the metal casing under the window.

“Why are we doing this?” Sheldon asked softly, his green eyes pleading. “I know what kind of place it is. I don’t like that sort of thing. You know that.”

“Have I ever not taken care of you?” Milton asked in an undertone, taking a quick glance around to make sure everyone was absorbed in their computers, music players, or crumpled newspapers. Milton squeezed Sheldon’s knee. “Trust me. I know what you like.”

“Why is Gordon doing this?”

“Jonah and Samuel need to see the world.”

“Samuel’s not into that kind of thing. He won’t even brat. He tries to melt into the wall every time I try to get him to have a little fun.”

“Your little fun often results in unfortunate consequences.” 

“Well, I am a brat,” Sheldon said with a sly smile. “Brats liked to be spanked. A red butt is good for us.”

Milton coughed and gave Sheldon a piercing look. “I take it your brother’s exhibitionism is wearing off on you. Maybe we’ll have to do something about it this weekend.”

“No.” Sheldon could do the look of abject horror combined with woe is me better than anyone Milton had ever known. The innocent, Milton thought wryly.

“We’ll see, my boy.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sheldon said, his voice rising.

“Keep it down. People are working.” Milton pointed to the computers on people’s knees before leaning in and whispering in Sheldon’s ear, “You don’t want the whole train knowing about our sex life.”

Sheldon flushed a delicious shade of red. It was one of the best features of his redheaded brat; everything showed on his skin in beautiful Technicolor. “You’re wretched.”

“Yep.” Milton laughed. “I specialize in wretched and mean.” Milton squeezed Sheldon’s leg again. “Seriously, Sheldon.” He waited for his boy’s eyes to meet his. “You know you can trust me. I won’t do more than you can take.”

“Yes, Milton.”

Milton saw Sheldon lean toward him; the boy clearly wanted a hug, but a crowded train wasn’t the place. Milton ruffled the red hair and smiled gently. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

******

Milton kept his two boys close as the liveried doorman swung open the heavy wooden door with its intricate carving and solid brass knocker. They stepped into a wide hallway; a fire crackled at the far end. A short entrance of marble led to a rich, thick carpet in a muted gray. Milton knew the first room was still known as the smoking room, even though the club had finally had to bend to New York law and prohibit all indoor smoking. Gordon, Landon, and poor Jonah would be waiting for them in leather armchairs or on the probably genuine horse hair sofas. Milton never cared for the feel of a Victorian gentlemen’s club, but he guessed it had its charms if one enjoyed that type of thing. It was better than the current fad or exposed pipes, bare floor, shiny mirrors, and overwhelming noise. At least here, a conversation was possible without shouting himself hoarse.

“I see you made it,” Gordon said, rising from the chair. 

“You did send the train tickets by personal courier and arrange for our pick up at the station. It would be hard not to come,” Milton said wryly.

“With Sheldon anything is possible,” Gordon said, giving Sheldon an appraising look. “You indulge that boy’s whims far too much for my taste.”

“I’m here,” Sheldon huffed, “and he didn’t even have to spank me on the train to get me here.”

“Good boy,” Gordon said in a voice that sounded absolutely sincere. “Samuel, it’s good to see you again. I trust you are well?”

“Yes, thank you, sir.” Samuel never lifted his eyes from his feet.

“There’s no need to keep your eyes down,” Gordon said, stepping close and placing his finger under Samuel’s chin. “This is all new to you. Take it in. Enjoy yourself. Milton, Landon, and I can answer your questions. You look most handsome tonight. I know this isn’t Milton’s taste. He goes for the scuffed professor look.”

Samuel shifted uncomfortable, but didn’t answer. 

“Miles took him shopping,” Milton said. “He follows the fashions.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have any jewelry,” Gordon said dryly. 

“He tried to talk Samuel into an earring. He might look good with one,” Milton mused softly.

“Men don’t wear jewelry,” Jonah snapped, flying to his feet. “Don’t I have any say about what my partner does to his body?”

“Jonah, sit down.” Milton glared at the Texan. Gordon said he was worth trying to save, but Milton had his doubts. Samuel had lived with them for two weeks. The boy was afraid, and Milton didn’t think timidity was his natural condition. It was a learned response, and Jonah was giving Milton no reason to think he wasn’t the responsible party. “Samuel had the good sense to believe his partner should be informed of any body modification, and as long as you two are a couple I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“As long as we’re a couple,” Jonah said grimly.

“Yes, as long as you’re a couple,” Milton said, not elaborating. Samuel was in Milton’s protection; Jonah would have to prove his worth. 

“I love Samuel,” Jonah said, his eyes meeting Milton’s steady gaze. Milton could see Jonah swallow and lick his lips as if trying to work up his courage. “I love Samuel,” He repeated. “I know I made mistakes, but you haven’t lived in Texas. You don’t know what it’s like there.”

“We’re not in Texas now,” Milton said.

“I know.” Jonah flushed and dropped his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“Are you really trying, or are you going through the motions to get us to back off? Do you really see the problem? You hurt your boy, and I won’t have it.” Milton stared hard at Jonah. He wanted the Texan flushed, upset, and repentant. He’d lived with Samuel, cuddled the boy, encouraged him to chase after the ever present gaggle of young men. Every instinct told him the boy had been abused. Milton understood and thrived on the power inherent in his relationship with Sheldon, but he also lived with the continual terror of abusing it. A dominant had to fear going too far, had to fear snuffing out his partner’s spark. Did Jonah understand the concepts of support, protection, and fun, or did he only understand mechanical obedience and pain? Milton used pain; he knew his relationship with Sheldon could be parsed by the vanilla world as abusive. He hit Sheldon; he made Sheldon cry, he restricted Sheldon’s behavior in any number of ways that outsiders would describe with labels from bizarre to parental to unreasonable, but Sheldon thrived in his care. It wasn’t even that Sheldon was never afraid of Milton because that wasn’t true. A Sheldon in real trouble was afraid at some level. He would have to be; he was sane in mind and body, and pain stripped of its erotic component was pain, but Sheldon trusted. He gave himself to Milton even if he was crying and shaking, and Milton cherished that trust as his greatest gift. As far as Milton could tell, Jonah didn’t cherish Samuel’s submission; he’d ruthlessly exploited it to control the boy. He crushed the boy, not nurtured the boy.

“Stop. It wasn’t like that. He didn’t abuse me. It wasn’t like here.” Samuel’s voice had grown louder with each statement, and his stance more belligerent. As Milton turned his gaze toward Samuel, the young Texan tried to hold his ground. He didn’t immediately drop his eyes to the floor and hunch his shoulders, the behavior that Milton had found so troubling.

“Hallelujah!” Milton said and smiled. He hooked an arm around a surprised Samuel and pulled him close, dropping a kiss on his forehead before letting him go with a slight push toward Jonah. “I just beat up on your man. I think he might need a hug.”

“We’re in public,” Samuel said, his eyes big, the confusion clear on his face.

“Samuel, this is hardly public. You know everyone in the room, and this is a very special club. It caters to men like us, to men who love other men, to men who live in or are interested in a power exchange.” 

“To men who like to stick a fist up their ass or hang from chains and get flogged,” Sheldon said sarcastically. “Not my style.”

“You should have spanked that boy before you came,” Gordon said. “He might have been more polite if sitting was a constant reminder that he was your boy.”

“Thank you. I get spanked enough,” Sheldon snarked.

“Sheldon, we talked about this yesterday and the day before,” Milton said in a steady voice. “I know your limits, and I respect them.”

“You spanked me both times. I was told I had to come.”

Sheldon was too close to tears for Milton’s liking. He closed the gap between the two of them and circled his arms around his boy, crushing him in a firm hug. “I know how you feel about bondage, whips, and more extreme sexual practices. I’ll take care of you.”

“You made me come.” Sheldon’s voice sounded calmer, but still a little frantic.

“Yes, I did. But what did I tell you?”

“You’d respect my boundaries, and this was for Samuel and Jonah.”

“It’s to show them what’s out there, not torture you. Sheldon, I love you. I respect your limits as you respect mine. We’ve done this a long time. Why is this so difficult for you? You’re not a shy man, and you know what you like.”

“I don’t know,” Sheldon mumbled, hiding his head in the crook of Milton’s arm.

“I think I know,” Landon said calmly and with just enough force to draw everyone’s eyes toward him. “Sheldon lives in a household with a brother who enjoy some of this. Blade is without a doubt a full scale submissive who is going to need a full time dominant. You are aware of that Milton?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t do that to my brother!” Sheldon shouted, struggling in Milton’s arms.

Milton swatted Sheldon hard. “Settle down. I’m not doing anything to your brother. It’s what he does to himself and what he wants. How would you feel if your sister told you that you couldn’t brat?”

“That’s different--”

“It’s not different,” Milton interrupted. “It’s about being who you are. We’re both gay. We both enjoy the power exchange, albeit from different ends. You brat and provoke further than Mace; your brother is even further on the spectrum. I’ll make sure when the time’s right he stays safe. Just as I’ll make sure you’re safe here. You have my word.”

“Milton will take good care of you,” Landon said. “He always does. He’s very safe and very predictable.”

“Low blow,” Milton said with a smile, trying to take some of the tension out of the room. “Predictable, isn’t that a nice way to say boring?” He was well aware that both Jonah and Samuel were openly staring at them, not that their interest was a bad thing. If they were going to go forward with their relationship, they’d have to understand the dance of negotiation. This wasn’t a relationship based on force, but on mutual need and agreement.

Landon smiled back, sure and relaxed. “I think our boy Sheldon might like something a little less predictable; he might want to push the edges a bit. Hmm. He might be afraid to ask. He still doesn’t verbally ask you to spank him. Instead, he assumes you will read his behavior, and you’re good at it. Push him a little, Milton. You indulge that boy.”

“That’s Gordon’s line,” Milton said with more lightness than he felt. Did Sheldon want to dip his toes in these waters? Milton liked the dominant spectacle, but it was something that he had willingly traded for Sheldon. He wouldn’t hurt Sheldon to indulge in his own fun.

“You know your boy,” Landon said. “He’s pushing hard tonight. You’ve admitted yourself that you’ve spanked him several times in the last few days. How was he on the train on the way up?”

“Awful.” Milton kissed the top of Sheldon’s hair to take the sting out of his words. They’d already hashed over Sheldon’s behavior in the train. “Samuel spent most of the trip pretending he’d never met us.”

“Jonah did the same thing,” Landon said, “but Gordon and I were doing it intentionally. Public displays get our Texan’s knickers in a twist.”

“They’ll see plenty of public displays tonight,” Milton said dryly. “I’ve been here before. I know what goes on behind these doors, over the arms of this stodgy furniture, and under the hunting prints.”

“You were a very good boy when we brought you here,” Gordon said with an enigmatic smile. “I’m sure some of the older members remember you fondly.”

Milton groaned and then smiled. “My memories of those days are softening nicely.”

“You played here?” Sheldon asked excitedly, squirming around in Milton’s arms so he could look at his dominant.

“You know I played. I’m fully trained in those skills you don’t like to think about. Remember?” Milton watched his partner closely. They had talked about this in depth when they had first made a commitment together, or more accurately Milton had talked, and Sheldon had alternated between making wisecracks and nervously kicking the leg of the table. “Do we need to revisit some of those areas?”

“We already had our New Year’s chat,” Sheldon said with an expressive pout. “I’m not doing that again ‘til next year. I hate it.”

“Did we discuss all the areas that needed covered?” Milton asked. “I find Gordon and Landon are usually very perceptive. Do we need to reopen the conversation?”

“Shit! Don’t make me do this?”

“Language, boy.” Milton landed a swift swat. “What is it that you don’t want to do? ‘This’ is a nebulous word and covers many things. Is ‘this’ talking about our relationship? Is ‘this’ bondage? Is ‘this’ whipping? Is ‘this’ wearing scant clothing?”

“Milton,” Sheldon whined. “I don’t want an academic lecture on the possible forms of a male power exchange. What’s wrong with how we do it?”

“Nothing if you don’t want or need more.” Milton brushed the fine red hairs off Sheldon’s face, the color just as vibrant as the day he met the boy with the plagiarized paper. It was a little shorter now, probably an unconscious adoption of Milton’s more conservative style; Milton had never asked Sheldon to cut his hair or keep it off his collar. He did draw the line at jewelry. He hated the taste of metal against his tongue and masses of gold chains were fine for the gangster want to be, but not for his Sheldon. “Is Landon right?”

“Right about what?” Sheldon gave Milton a patented look of innocence.

“Sheldon, I know you were listening. Pretending otherwise is dishonest.” Milton punished dishonesty. Perhaps it was severe to call Sheldon’s mild evasion dishonesty, but if Landon’s belief was correct that Sheldon’s restlessness was a result of his desire to venture a little further into the forest of the power exchange, Milton needed to know. Sheldon could engineer a disaster if his needs were overlooked.

Sheldon tried to look away, but Milton caught his chin in a practiced grab. Sheldon’s expression was tortured. For all his understanding of these relationships, he hated asking for something, or at least he hated asking for it in words. He had an entire repertoire of ways to get Milton’s attention that didn’t involve the use of words.

“I don’t know,” Sheldon said in a voice so soft that Milton barely caught the words. “Mike looks--I don’t know--calm, happy, blissful.”

Milton ran his hand down Sheldon’s back, feeling the tension through the thick sweater. “Your brother, being the head of the Green Mountain Boys, even Mike and Luke--you’re stretched thin. You need a little more. I can do that for you. I would like to do that for you. Look around tonight. Decide what you might like to try.” Milton smiled, the soft private smile that was for Sheldon only. “Boy, you’re not the only one feeling the stress. Tilden about clocked me this morning, and it takes a hurricane to ruffle his feathers. I think we could both use a little play. It will be fun.”

Sheldon gulped. “Nothing too complicated. Ropes scare me, and I hate whips.”

“I was never any good at knot tying. You’d escape in an instant. No bondage and no implements. Does that work?”

Sheldon nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“We’ll see. Patience, boy. I’ll make it good for you. I promise.”

Sheldon nodded. He still look apprehensive with his eyes overly bright but no longer frantic. An apprehensive boy wasn’t always a bad thing; a little fear heightened the senses.