Texas, Our Texas 12

Texas, Our Texas

Chapter 12

“I see no reason why you would have any more difficulty with Jonah’s and Samuel’s asylum process than you have had with any previous refugees. I fail to understand the urgent need for me to come East. I am sure you have an army of New York lawyers at your disposal.”

Milton ground his teeth together, feeling the strain in his jaw and his neck, but refused to be goaded by this man into lashing out. Noah Campbell had been teetering on the edge of being downright belligerent the entire meeting. Most men reacted to Landon’s obvious charm with warm smiles; Noah had nodded curtly and glared at both Gordon and Landon. He’d shaken Milton’s hand, but that had been the extent of the pleasantries before he’d dropped the files, with a bang, on the conference table and launched into a monologue about the citizenship process.

Granted the man was handsome with his wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist accented by his close fitting jeans and cowboy boots. Noah might want to make a point that he wasn’t an East coast lawyer, but cowboy boots and jeans seemed to Milton at least to be more of a statement than to serve any practical purpose. It wasn’t as if Noah was a cowboy. He was lawyer, educated at the University of Virginia; Virginia wasn’t known for its open range country and endless herds of cattle. Yes, he’d come from Texas, a fresh face with a newly minted college degree in psychology, but he wasn’t a Texan any longer, and he’d been from Dallas, a city of sprawling highways and choking traffic. It was hardly range country. 

Milton didn’t remember meeting Noah back then; it would be almost fifteen years now. He probably had, but more than a few men came through the doors in Vermont, and Milton knew only perhaps a dozen well and another two dozen by sight. His commitments to teaching and Tilden’s own problem with Gordon had made it easier to separate himself from the details of the Green Mountain Boys. He didn’t have that luxury anymore. He was the name and face of the younger generation; he carried the legacy and the burden now, and he needed to be concentrating on Noah, not going off on rambling thoughts about cowboy boots and a swirl of met and forgotten men.

Gordon had known Noah well as young man, and despite the undercurrent of antipathy in the room, the relationship had once been close. Unlike Jonah and Samuel, Noah hadn’t escaped Texas in deep secrecy and under false pretense. His own father had recognized Noah’s true inclination, and on a family vacation to New York and Boston had walked into G&L corporate headquarters with an embarrassed Noah in tow and demanded to see Mr. Lewis. This would usually result in a rapid ejection at the hands of security, but Gordon was returning from lunch and heard the conflagration at the security desk. He later told Milton it had been a dull day and an angry father with a gorgeous boy in tow had been a far more inviting prospect than listening to another presentation on the diamond market.

Gordon had smiled when he had retold the story. “It ended up being one of my more memorable days at work. The older Mr. Campbell was neither shy nor retiring, and in a loud and very distinct Texas twang he announced that he wasn’t going to let his son marry that dang girl and be miserable all his life and that he had some responsibility as a parent. The faces on some of my more conservative colleagues ranged from shocked to determinedly disinterested when I hustled the two of them to the privacy of my office.”

Milton knew the outcome of the meeting. He could see it in the former Texan standing in front of them, handing out papers and demanding their signature in triplicate and quadruplicate. He’d gone to law school on the Foundation’s money and had a thriving practice that specialized in immigration and asylum seekers. He’d been the Foundation’s main lawyer in this area until five years ago when his partner had taken to the bed of another Green Mountain dominant, and Noah had vanished to the sun, mountains, and relative isolation of New Mexico. Milton wasn’t sure what pressure Gordon had used to bring Noah to this meeting in Vermont, but from Noah’s attitude, Milton was sure a good deal of pressure had been applied to bring Noah to heel. The man was seething in a polite, restrained, and very top like manner. 

“Will there be anything else?” Noah asked as he placed the last of the papers in a folder. “I foresee no serious difficulties with their application. Asylum is routinely granted to gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender applicants from the Republic of Texas. Typically the only difficulty is proving the applicant’s gender status, but with Samuel and Jonah being an established couple, this will be no trouble.”

“Sit down, Noah,” Gordon said, pulling out a chair next to him.

“I have no further business here tonight. I would like to retire early to be well rested for my return flight.”

“I’d prefer to keep this an invitation,” Gordon said, his voice still soft and genial, but his eyes were watchful.

“Noah, sit down for God’s sake,” Landon said. “We aren’t responsible for your ex-partner’s idiocy, and running away isn’t going to make it any better.”

“I allowed both of you to interfere more in my life than was wise,” Noah said with icy politeness. “I have no desire to repeat that error.”

“You would condemn our proposal without hearing it. That is hardly the action of a well-balanced and content dominant,” Gordon said.

“I have not taken the dominant role for five years.”

“Do you deny you’re a dominant?” Gordon challenged.

“No.” Noah said after a long moment where it had seemed that he wasn’t going to answer.

“It’s not healthy to deny who you are.”

“It’s also not healthy to be caught in the tendrils of your machinations.”

“Noah, consider these my machinations and not Gordon’s,” Milton said in his best calm and collected voice. Noah’s divorce from his first partner had been ugly, and it was obvious from his defensiveness that the wounds were still tender. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. Milton needed a dominant, but he wasn’t going to suggest one who couldn’t provide for Jonah’s needs. He and Tilden would manage somehow. 

They needed more dominants; Jason was the only young dominant in the system, and he was already spoken for. Both Braxton and Jason had made it very clear in what direction their future lay, and as far as Milton could tell it was a perfect match. Now if only he could find that match for Jonah or actually for Jonah and Samuel. Samuel didn’t need or want a dominant, but he needed someone to love the both of them and show them how to physically and emotionally love each other. Texas had left scars on both their psyches, and Samuel’s in some ways might take more skill and patience to address than Jonah’s. Jonah was a submissive. Problems, even big and hard problems, could be compartmentalized into tidy petty naughtiness and at least partially addressed through those mechanisms. Adam had assured them that the role play inherent in the dom/sub roles often made acceptance and change easier and could be a tool in helping Jonah adapt and heal.

With Samuel they didn’t have that option. He responded well to the calm, steadiness of Milton, Tilden, and Trent, but he responded poorly to discipline. Milton had talked him through the spanking at The Forest, but it wasn’t something he’d ever repeated. Samuel was a young man who tried hard and didn’t push boundaries. He needed reassurance and explanations, not punishment and especially not corporal punishment. 

“Great, like father like son,” Noah said, his back turned toward Milton in a gesture that Milton knew was intentional. Gordon had said Noah had been a very good and subtle dominant, too subtle for his first partner in Gordon’s opinion. Noah would understand exactly what his body language was saying.

“Brad had needed his backside reddened with something far harder than a hand every morning and every evening to be halfway sensible and that was never Noah’s style. He needed a partner who wanted gentle pressure on the reins, not a sledge hammer,” Gordon had said last week when he and Milton had discussed Noah. “It was an unpleasant situation all the way around, and Brad in defensive caught out boy fashion made it worse. Being found in Conrad’s bed didn’t help either,” Gordon added dryly. “They were a good match, but Conrad violated protocol and accepted norms of civilized behavior by pursuing an already partnered man, not that it isn’t an all too common occurrence in all strata of society. Noah blamed me and the Green Mountain Boys because we had spoken to him about the incompatibly of his topping style with Brad. Conrad had the correct topping style, and because of this Noah in his mind always felt we had encouraged Brad to find Conrad’s bed.” 

“Very well,” Milton said in a clipped tone that reminded him of the thousands of times he’d heard Gordon say the same phrase. Milton needed to focus on this meeting, not rehash earlier conversations with Gordon. “I had hoped you could provide more than legal assistance for Samuel and Jonah. I was wrong, and I apologize for forcing you to travel across the country on short notice. I will find someone else.”

“They have each other. What more could they need?” Noah asked, still facing the door, but he had yet to take a single step.

“Jonah needs a dominant, and they both need a lover.”

“Arranged marriages went out of fashion more than one hundred years ago, and polygamy is still not legal, even though prosecution is rare.”

“I was suggesting an introduction. I would hardly drag any of you to the altar.” Milton paused and studied Noah’s rigid shoulders and the sun browned fingers tapping his oversized briefcase. “My closest friend is in a threesome. I never thought they worked until I watched him. He and his partners are very happy.”

“I am not that adventurous. I couldn’t make a single partner happy.” Noah turned around and faced Milton, his hazel eyes both bitter and sad. “I am sorry I cannot help your two displaced Texans, but I am hardly the ideal prospect, and I deeply resent your interferences in my life.”

“It’s more fun to spend your life with a ten ton grudge than to try again,” Landon said with his usual no nonsense bluntness. “It’s better to be unhappy than risk being hurt again.”

“Do you always let your boy run wild?” Noah asked Gordon.

“When he’s right, and he’s quite right at the moment.”

Noah sat down heavily as if the air had suddenly been let out of an oversized tractor tire. He stroked his fingers through his brown hair that brushed his shoulders in untidy curls. “I’m not sure I’m ready,” he whispered.

“Brad hurt you,” Gordon said softly. “I know. As a dominant, I give everything that I am to my partner, and I know you did the same.” Gordon reached for Landon’s hand and entwined their fingers together in a gesture that spoke of years of intimacy and understanding. “Brad tore off a piece of your soul, but I think Jonah and Samuel together might have the bricks and mortar to build a new structure for all three of you.”

“I can’t just fall in love with them on your orders,” Noah said with a weariness in his voice that spoke of the years of loneliness.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Milton said, studying the sadness in those hazel eyes surrounded by a light spider web of wrinkles and creases from the wind and sun of the Southwest. “I need to get Jonah and Samuel out of a crowded house where privacy is as rare as the mythical unicorn. Even if all you can manage is the role of the platonic host, it’s a better situation than my zoo.”

“Even in that role, they should know you were trying to match make. I won’t take them under false pretense.”

“I believe you should tell them yourself,” Milton retorted.

They negotiated back and forth across the table for thirty minutes, leaving Milton worn and wishing he had a law degree and not a doctorate in history. Noah had agreed. Noah would take the role of host and dominant as needed with Jonah, but both men would be informed of Milton’s and Gordon’s aspiration that this relationship would bloom beyond the bud of friendship and good deed of a fellow immigrant from Texas.

***** Four months later.

Milton knocked on the door, his eyes still as much on the mountains and the perfect blue sky as the wood door in front of him. He heard barking: loud, deep, and fierce sounding, before the door swung open. Jonah and Samuel had sent him pictures, and he knew Samuel had a big, black dog, but Milton was unprepared for the massive black head and gleaming teeth that jumped to nearly eye level.

“Sorry, Mirka’s young,” Samuel said with an apologetic shrug and asked the big dog to sit which he did with amazing speed, his brown eyes now focused attentively on his master and his master’s pocket. “Mirka wants a cookie. Was that worth a cookie?”

The big dog barked three times, a playful, high pitched sound compared to the barks on entry. Samuel pulled the promised cookie from his pocket and gave it to the dog with an exuberant scratch behind his ears.

“He’s really a good dog; he just gets excited.”

“Maybe you should arm your guests with whatever you’re feeding him. It seems to work magic.”

“Consistent positive reinforcement, but I’m still working on strangers at the door as you noticed. It is helpful to get rid of the people with the religious tracts or offering dubious roofing services. Come in. I’ve forgotten my manners. We have the guest room ready for you. You can put your bag there and get freshened up. I’m just finishing a painting I’m working on. I need to make a few final touches before the sun changes.”

Milton noticed the easy and natural we as Samuel had explained the guest arrangements. Samuel looked genuinely happy and totally at ease. He was in sandals and a worn and paint splattered pair of jeans and an oversized and equally paint spattered shirt that looked like it must have once been Jonah’s or Noah’s. The sleeves were pushed up, showing a slim silver and turquoise bracelet around his right wrist that matched his small silver earrings. 

“Do you like them?” Samuel asked, fingering his ear and blushing. He must have seen Milton’s eyes on them.

“I do, but more importantly do you?”

“Yes, I couldn’t back home, and I always wanted to. Noah did them in the kitchen for me. Don’t look so surprised. He was sterile and all. I didn’t want a stranger to touch me.”

“Anywhere else?” Milton asked, wanting to ask if the piercing had been part of a scene. He hadn’t thought Samuel was a submissive, but maybe he’d been way off base.

“My nipples.”

Milton raised an eyebrow. This was a side of Samuel that he hadn’t expected, but the boy seemed both pleased and proud.

“I always liked Mike’s. It hurt, but they’re great now. Jonah still gives them an odd look, but that’s half the fun.”

“Torturing your man?”

“My men,” Samuel corrected with a laugh. “Noah likes them, but half our friends are still convinced I’m a submissive also. Oh, well.” Samuel shrugged, the shoulders of the oversized shirt flapping on his slight frame. “I don’t mind. It’s what happens behind closed doors that really counts. Your room,” Samuel said, guiding Milton into a small, sun drenched room. A bright, semi-abstract painting of a cow behind a rusted barbed wire fence, pulling hay from the bed of an ancient pickup hung over the kiva fireplace.

“One of yours?”

“Yes,” Samuel said with sudden shyness. “Noah made me keep that one. All the rest in the series have sold.”

“Wow!” Milton said with true appreciation. “You’ve only been here four months, and you’re already making a name for yourself as an artist.”

“A friend of Noah’s had the show for me.” Samuel lowered his eyes and shifted from foot to foot. “I never expected the stuff to sell like that.”

“It’s good; you should be proud of it.”

“That’s what Jonah and Noah say. I’m still overwhelmed and embarrassed. They’re only me messing around.”

“I could mess around all day, and my paintings would only go to the dumpster.”

“Maybe,” Samuel said agreeably, but not convincingly. “Noah will be home soon. I really have to go finish up.”

“Go. I’ll take care of myself.”

Samuel ran down the hall, his black shadow bounding after him.

Milton found the small attached bathroom, stripped his shirt, changed into a fresh one, and washed his face. It had been a long flight from Boston, crowded and noisy as most flights were. It was a whirlwind trip with the return flight scheduled in two days, but he’d wanted to make sure all was as well as he’d been told on the phone and by email. Samuel looked happy, and at least to Milton’s untrained eye the painting even spoke of newly captured joy with the purple pickup truck and the smiling cow. 

Milton grabbed his book from his bag and headed back toward the front of the house and where he thought he’d caught a glimpse of the kitchen. With the time change, his body was more than ready for food, even though the clocks said only a few minutes after four. The kitchen was bright and tidy without the harsh military precision of an unregulated Jonah. A bag of blue corn chips, sealed with a barrister’s clip, sat on the counter. Milton helped himself and pulled a stool out from under the counter.

“There’s salsa in the fridge,” Samuel said a few minutes later, coming into the kitchen with the dog who made an immediate beeline for Milton and the food. “We’ve even got some mild kind suitable for an Easterner’s taste buds.”

“Knowing you, it will still cause a five alarm fire.”

“Jonah bought it, and he’s good at that sort of thing.”

The dog shot off the floor and ran toward the door, his paws skittering across the tile.

“Mirka heard Noah’s car. It’s a great alarm system; he can never sneak up on us.”

“Does he need to?” Milton asked with a laugh.

“With Jonah maybe.”

“I’m home.”

“I know; Mirka told me.”

Noah tossed several files on the counter and wrapped an arm around Samuel and pulled him into a tight hug. “Good day? You kept the paint on the paintings and not all over the house?”

“That only happened once, and it was Mirka’s fault.”

“I see. Blame the dog,” Noah said with an expressive eye roll. “Milton good to see you.” The handshake was warm, and Noah was relaxed and downright exuberant compared to the controlled, tense man Milton had met in Vermont. “Good flight?”

“I made it on time; that’s always good.”

“Don’t eat all the chips,” Noah said, grabbing a handful. “I’d thought we’d have an early dinner. Did you get the vegetables chopped?” he asked Samuel.

“Yep, all ready.”

“So much easier than a boy.” Noah ruffled Samuel’s hair as he walked by him on the way to the refrigerator.

“You have a boy,” Samuel said, grabbing a handful of chips from the bag. 

“That I do, and he should be home any second. From the conversation I had with him on the phone a few minutes ago, it might be an interesting night.”

“He’s here,” Samuel said as Mirka darted for the door.

If the banging and crashing at the door was at all reflective of Jonah’s mood, it was foul to the extreme. He stomped into the kitchen, throwing a pile of math books and papers onto the counter with such force that half cascaded to the floor.

“Pick them up,” Noah said mildly.

“Later,” Jonah muttered, grabbed a glass from an open shelf, and wrenched open the refrigerator door.

“No Coke.”

“What are you now, the cola police?”

“No, I’m a dom who doesn’t like his partner stomping and throwing things.”

“I didn’t throw anything.”

“Half your papers are on the floor, and I’d pick them up before the dog shreds them.”

“If Samuel would train that damn hound, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Jonah, do you need a spanking?” Noah asked, stepping toward his angry partner and holding out his hand. “We can skip all the preliminaries.”

Jonah hesitated a moment before taking Noah’s outstretched hand. Milton couldn’t understand the garbled words he muttered, but obviously Noah did as he kissed Jonah’s cheek and pulled him close.

“Please excuse us for a few minutes,” Noah said with a nod toward Milton. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” Milton more than understood. How often had he handled Blade in the same mood? The tossed papers even felt like Blade or Sheldon and not Jonah’s usual obsessive neatness. Jonah had obviously absorbed this easy technique for getting a dom’s attention.

Jonah flushed as if it were the first time he noticed Milton and mumbled a combination of hello and sorry as Noah led him from the room. 

“Can you help me with the meat?” Samuel asked as they disappeared.

“You’re practiced at the distraction.”

“I forget how much you know. Of course, Noah would never have asked that openly without it being someone in the know.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No,” Samuel said quickly and sharply. “You are always a dominant, aren’t you?”

“With friends, and you’re far more aware of all this than before.”

“Noah makes it look like you were suffering from a case of chronic laryngitis. He can talk.” Samuel grinned. “It’s not like I can’t, but Noah...”

“You love both of them?”

“Very much, and now can we cook dinner and leave the interrogation for later?”

Noah came back ten minutes later. “He’s fine,” he said more to Samuel than Milton but included the top in his sweeping glance. “A rotten day of parent/teacher conferences, and he needed to blow. He’ll be down in a few minutes, after he showers.”

Samuel and Noah moved quietly around the kitchen, cooking comfortably together as if they did it often. Jonah stood in the doorway a few minutes later, his hair still wet from the shower and his expression classic boy who had been in trouble.

“Shoes and socks off and unbutton your shirt collar. Three buttons,” Noah said.

“We have company.”

“And he knows exactly what’s going on.”

Jonah flushed and dropped his eyes further, but did as he was told. Milton caught the glint of gold as the second button was undone. Jonah was collared. Milton knew his eyebrows had risen to his hairline as he looked among the three men.

“Two weeks ago,” Noah said. “Come here and show Milton.” He held out his arms to Jonah who unashamedly dove for the embrace of his dominant. “My collared, boy.” Noah kissed Jonah’s neck. “Better now?”

“Yes, sir. Well, except it’s going to hurt to sit.”

“And whose fault is that?”

 “Yours.”

“Brat.” Noah gently swatted Jonah’s hip. “I’d be careful, boy.”

“I’m safe.” The admission was so natural and so easy that Milton almost felt he should be looking at Blade. 

“Maybe,” Noah said with a wicked grin. “You never know what I have planned once our poor innocent guest goes to bed.”

“Evil fun right under the nose of the head of the Green Mountain Boys,” Samuel teased.

Milton coughed. “I can hear you.”

“Plans foiled again,” Noah said. “Nothing but three normal guys enjoying dinner with a guest from out of town. You couldn’t get more boring and regular.”

Nothing in this family looked boring and regular to Milton’s eye, but nothing in his family was boring and regular either, and it worked, and that was truly all that mattered. These men loved each other. Milton didn’t need to see anymore. He didn’t need to know what they called each role or how they juggled the mix. All he needed to know was they loved each other and that they had some understanding that suited them all. They had all finally come home, one happy and unique family.

The End