Negotiations I

Negotiations

Sheldon ran his finger over the placemat, tangling in the red and gold fringe. The placemats were ugly, worn, and spotted. Someone really should have given Trent some new ones for Christmas. It was the tops who always went for practical gifts. These placemats had been on the table the first year they did this. Did they have to keep doing this?

“Sheldon?” Milton’s voice was softer, quieter, perhaps even a touch hesitant. He was a man who gave orders. He didn’t ask, and the tone of a polite request sounded foreign on his lips and even more foreign to Sheldon’s ears.

“Do we have to do this?” Sheldon knew he was whining. He knew he should be sitting up, not slouched in the chair, toying with the fringe on the placemat. Fuck! He wanted this over. Ten days in Vermont, and he wanted Milton to himself as his partner, his lover, his top. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about proper power exchange rituals; he was beyond fed up with being the good submissive, the head boy, or whatever the fuck his role was supposed to be.

His head hurt; he was tired, and his chest still hurt. The damn nipple rings were about as comfortable as porcupine quills. He’d been an idiot, and Milton hadn’t stopped him. Milton was supposed to keep him safe, not let him do something on a whim.

“It’s the first of the year,” Milton said in a voice that was much too patient. “Is there anything you want to tell me or ask of me?”

Sheldon shrugged and laid his head on the table. Any other time Milton would swat Sheldon or at least shove him into the corner for atrocious rudeness, but today for this hour all the rules were broken.

“How do you feel about Ryan?”

Where had that come from? Milton had never asked him how he felt about Trent or Tilden during the negotiations. He’d asked plenty of times in other contexts. Sheldon adored Tilden, or at least when the man stayed in English.

“Ryan thinks you top from the bottom and brat too much.”

Milton was leaning too close, his eyes too intense for Sheldon to ignore the conversation. Behind his glasses Milton’s eyes became almost black when he was all serious. His eyebrows and beard were starting to be flecked with gray. Some men would probably dye them. Sheldon couldn’t imagine Milton with hair dye.

“Why did you pierce your nipples? Was that about Ryan?”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Did you want me too?”

Of course Sheldon had. He touched the still tender skin under his shirt. Milton always stopped him from doing foolish things.

“Devon practices good hygiene, and it’s your body. I don’t wear jewelry myself, but I won’t forbid it when it’s safe and out of sight.”

“Don’t let me do it again.”

“Very well,” Milton said gravely. “Do you want to take them out? It will heal.”

“No. They hurt too damn much.”

Milton smiled gently. Most people never believed Milton could be gentle. They saw him as stern and sometimes cold. Sheldon knew differently. This was Milton’s natural state, not the granite boulder he presented to the world. “I think once they heal you’ll like them. I can make it good for you.”

“No weights. I’m not that kinky.”

“Do you want to be?” Milton leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “Ryan represents the other side. His take on it is that you’re always at his throat because you want to try some of it and don’t know how to ask.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“He’s a very good dominant.” Milton rubbed his hand down his beard. “We’ve played this game with one set of rules for many years. It’s worked for us, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have an addendum with special rules. Our relationship should be changing and evolving. You’re not the same boy I brought home from that party. You know yourself better, and you know me. I’m more than a white knight or a perverted control freak.” Milton smiled again. “I know your opinion of me has run the gamut.”

“Control freak, maybe,” Sheldon said with a wisp of a smile. Even Milton’s gentle teasing didn’t lift his mood. He hated this; he didn’t do this introspective crap or at least not upright in a chair. Over Milton’s knee, Sheldon could get introspective; talking held off the inevitable, and he harbored at least a faint hope it mitigated some of the damages.

“Sheldon, there are many ways to get my attention.”

And he liked it just the way it was. Blade and the cuffs and the toys and things Sheldon didn’t want to think about. Whips. Whips for fun.

“I want you happy.” Milton’s eyes were much too intense; Sheldon felt as if they could see through his skin into his soul.

“I’m happy,” Sheldon muttered, not lifting his head from his study of the placemat. He’d never noticed that every third string was gold.

“And you enjoy your relationship with Ryan?”

“You’re not supposed to get along with your in-laws,” Sheldon shot back.

“Ryan’s a likable guy. He’s not the evil mother-in-law insisting you decorate in paisley prints and come to endless family celebrations and chitchat with homophobic relatives. He’s one of us.” Milton paused and studied Sheldon. “This is out of character for you.”

“He’s mean to my brother.”

“Do you really believe that?” Milton’s voice had sharpened.

Sheldon shifted in the chair. Why hadn’t Milton called him on the lie? Sheldon didn’t want to have this conversation; he didn’t know why he couldn’t get along with Ryan.

“Sheldon, it’s good manners to answer a question.”

“I don’t know,” Sheldon shouted, frustrated. “Don’t you get it? I don’t know.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Milton’s voice was too mild. He should have swatted Sheldon for the shouting. Milton was Gordon trained; bad manners were the curse of death.

“Ryan bugs me. Can’t we leave it at that?”

“I don’t want to play peacekeeper between the two of you all next year. You provoke an incident again, and I will cane you.”

“I hate the cane.” The words popped out of Sheldon’s mouth reflexively. Milton knew; there was no need to tell him. Milton nodded and waited. “That’s the point, isn’t it?” Sheldon continued when Milton refused to break the silence.

“Yes. I find no pleasure in caning you, but I will tolerate no further provocation toward Ryan. He’s been more than tolerant.”

“Sorry.” Sheldon chewed on his lower lip and kept his head down. 

“I expect a behavior change, not apologies.” Milton stared at Sheldon until Sheldon finally peeked up between his eyelashes. “What can I do to help? I dislike making threats.”

Sheldon shrugged. He didn’t know. Abstractly and logically Ryan was a nice guy, a great guy, and when he came near, Sheldon behaved like a certifiable lunatic.

“No ideas?”

Sheldon shook his head.

“I have one,” Milton said slowly. “I think you want some of what Blade has.”

“No!”

“Here me out.” Milton reached across the table and fingered the pierced nipple under Sheldon’s shirt. “You did this.”

“I’ve wanted pierced a long time,” Sheldon said, jerking back from the touch.

“Bullshit.” Milton’s dark eyes bored into Sheldon. “We cannot negotiate if you can’t be honest with yourself or with me. It’s not safe.”

Sheldon flinched at the words and swallowed the easy protest that had come automatically to his lips. He wiped a hand over his face and through his hair. He wanted to be angry, to fight his shame with hot words and sharp verbal jabs, but he loved Milton. He flourished in Milton’s protection. He was a submissive, and he was honest enough to admit that now after several hard years, but he still couldn’t drape himself over Milton’s knee and beg him to spank him.  

“I didn’t mean to,” Sheldon mumbled.

“You didn’t mean to lie? You didn’t mean to get pierced? You didn’t mean to have this conversation with me?”

All of those. Sheldon tucked his chin to his chest and stared down at the table. Couldn’t Milton just leave it alone? It worked for them; they were happy.

“Sheldon, are you planning to contribute to this conversation?”

No. That might put Milton back into top mode. It was easier that way; let Milton make the decision. He always knew anyway.

“I will not do this without your participation.” Even sitting, Milton somehow had drawn himself up, making him look bigger than his already substantial size. “We do this together.”

Sheldon knew that. How often had he told some young and wide-eyed waif that it was a partnership, that the submissive granted the power, but God Sheldon loved the illusion. It would be so easy, so inviting if Milton truly had the control. And it would be so suffocating. It was a mirage or maybe a beautifully contrived game. Milton wasn’t a saint or perfect or all knowing, and he wouldn’t let Sheldon put him there. They ran this show together.

“Yes, sir,” Sheldon managed, forcing his eyes up.

Milton’s eyebrow rose slightly. Sheldon didn’t use sir. Milton reached across the table, and he brushed the hair back off Sheldon’s forehead. “How bad is this for you?”

“Awful.”

“Do you need to stop?”

“No, it will only be worse later.”

“You’re not going to break anything?”

Sheldon managed a faint smile. “I’m a big boy.”

“You’re my little boy.”

Thank God or he’d be crazy. 

“Kiddo.” Milton’s fingers carded through Sheldon’s hair. “I want to give you more tools. You like to be spanked, and I like to spank you. There’s no reason you can’t ask me sometimes.”

“No.” Had Milton heard that? It was supposed to be silent.

Milton stood and came behind Sheldon, his hands resting on the redhead’s shoulders. “You already do; you brat for me. And Sheldon I like it; I love it.” Milton kissed the top of Sheldon’s head. “I don’t care if others see it as topping from the bottom. We aren’t others. I understand and enjoy the game, but it’s OK to ask also. You don’t need to pick a fight with Mike or toss dinner on the floor to get my attention. I know you are capable of controlling your behavior, and that is not why I spank you. I spank you because you want it, you need it, you crave it.”

“I don’t always get off on it.”

“I know, but it calms you. It helps you find your center. It’s rarely punishment, is it?”

“It hurts.”

“But a good hurt?”

Sheldon nodded. He did like it, not the rare times when Milton was angry, but the surrender over Milton’s knee. He didn’t have to think; he only had to feel. Milton had everything.

“Blade easily admits that he craves the heat, the pain, the physical contact, and the complete surrender. You don’t. It’s not a contest.”

“Ryan...”

“Ryan’s different than I am. He’s very sexual; he’s very open about his pleasure.”

“He hits hard for play.”

“Yes, he does, and your brother knows it’s play.”

“He doesn’t like to punish; he doesn’t even like to pretend it’s punishment.”

“No, he doesn’t, and Gavin pretends to have a near religious objection to seeing it as punishment.” Sheldon could hear the humor in Milton’s voice. “Save us all from Gavin’s righteousness.”

“Ray doesn’t brat.”

“Not yet.”

“His schoolwork?”

“Yes, but I suspect it will only be once. He won’t like it.”

Sheldon twisted around and caught Milton’s hand. “You don’t have to do it.” 

“He needs to find out, and I’m the safest guy around to show him. I’ve done it before.”

“And you hate it.” 

“Shh.” Milton kissed Sheldon’s temple. “I’m tough enough to deal with a confused and tearful submissive. I’ll keep Ray safe and give him what he needs.”

“You think I need more?”

“I think you think you need more.” Milton reached into his pocket and pulled a single key out on a leather thong. Sheldon knew the key; it was the key to the trunk upstairs. “Pick three objects by the end of the month and ask me to use them.”

“I can’t”

“Is that a hard limit?”

Sheldon shook his head, not wanting was different than a limit and he damn well knew it.

“Everything else stays the same.” It might have been a question, but Sheldon was happy to take it as a statement. He wanted it all to stay the same. He didn’t want to take the key; he didn’t want to look at the key. “No more than a month, and I think the sooner the better.” The kiss was firm and possessive, a mark on Sheldon’s forehead. Milton was gone, leaving Sheldon with the key and his imagination.