The Final Countdown 1

The Final Countdown 1

Milton looked up to see Tilden hovering in the doorway, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head down as if the worn floor was fascinating. “Tilden?”

“Uh—nothing.”

“For a man who is fluent in more languages than I can count, that response doesn’t inspire confidence. Come in. I’m only shuffling these papers around for the tenth time.”

“College or the Green Mountain Boys?”

“College and I know a distraction when I hear one.” Milton leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “I’m aware as well as you are that the boys are all away today. Sheldon off with Austin to an amusement park and your boys off to see Mike’s parents on one of their flying visits. Mike didn’t want you along?”

“My relationship with his parents is strained,” Tilden said.

Milton knew far more lay under the surface of Tilden’s polite words. Mike’s parents were disinterested at best, but also had attempted to use the unusual threesome as a tool in burnishing their progressive credentials. Tilden had no patience for being a living and breathing prop in their latest fund raising efforts.

“Poor Luke drew the short straw today.”

“More, I think, that Mike fears I might tell his parents my true opinion of them.”

“It would be deserved,” Milton said dismissively. “Glory hunters on the backs of the most desperate while they neglect less glamorous causes close to home.”

Tilden nodded. “My opinion exactly.”

“Tilden, is there some reason I’m conducting this conversation while half your body remains on the far side of the door?” Milton rose and in two quick strides caught Tilden’s wrist and pulled him into the room. “Sit.”

Tilden sat on the sofa, his body rigid, He clasped his hands in front of him and crossed his legs in compressed stillness. Milton studied his friend. This wasn’t a social call or a break in Tilden’s never ending textbook editing.

“Breathe, boy.”

“I’m not your boy, your submissive, or your whatever.”

Milton straddled the corner of the desk, a posture he knew he’d copied from Ryan. It was more casual, younger and less intimidating than sitting behind the desk or standing over his friend. With a submissive, Milton might have sat down on the sofa and swept the boy onto his lap, but this was Tilden. Tilden wasn’t Milton’s to control or even to touch in a certain manner. They were friends, very close friends, but despite Tilden’s role in the Green Mountain Boys and Tilden’s silent acknowledgment of Milton’s standing as the big dog, as Austin would put it, Milton didn’t demand in the same way he might with other dominants. 

“Do you want to pick a fight with me?” Milton asked casually. If Tilden needed to blow off steam, Milton could be a safe target. 

“No.”

“Kiddo—”

“Don’t get all jolly Uncle Dominant with me. I’m not in the mood for it.”

“So what are you in the mood for?” Milton growled and shot off the desk. He grabbed Tilden by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “Is this what you want? I can force it. I can make you submit to me.” Milton grabbed Tilden’s wrists and pinned them behind his back. “Do you want it this way?”

Tilden panted, his eyes, wide with fear but also with something undefined. He didn’t struggle as he sucked air in through his open mouth.

“Tilden.” Milton stoked his thumb down the angular cheek and slowly dropped a chaste kiss on the open mouth. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.” Tilden licked his lips and swallowed; his Adam’s apple bobbed in his narrow throat.

“Won’t,” Milton countered, not relaxing his grip on Tilden’s wrists. They were standing too close. Milton could smell the soap on Tilden’s skin; he could feel each quick breath as it left Tilden’s lungs. Milton could see the eyes, which Luke described as violet, pleading and desperate. “Over my knee.”

Milton had never spanked Tilden. He’d never even swatted Tilden except as a tease. Their relationship had been built outside the hierarchy of the Green Mountain Boys, and Tilden had never been Milton’s or anyone else’s apprentice dominant.

Tilden reached for his belt buckle, his fingers weak and disjointed as he struggled to unfasten his pants and slide them down his hips. No argument. No logical rebuttal or sly comments in Russian, only slow and torturous compliance. Milton sat down on the sofa and took Tilden’s hand as Tilden shuffled toward Milton’s right side.

“I’m going to do this bare.” Milton swept down the boxers with one hand, revealing creamy white, unblemished skin. “Over you go.” Milton tugged Tilden into position. His hand caressed the rigid back and felt the terror and strain in every sinew and muscle. “What do you think I’m going to do?” Milton tried to keep his voice light. This was an experienced dominant; Tilden shouldn’t be terrified. “I won’t harm you.”

No answer. Tilden’s body shuddered, and his fingers clawed at the pillow as he buried his head deeper.

“What are your safewords?” Milton’s hand stroked the enticing ass in front of him. No, that was off limits. He loved Tilden, but it was platonic only. It wouldn’t have worked. They were both dominants; their needs were different. “Your safewords?” Milton repeated.

“I don’t have any.”

“Red for stop. Yellow for slow down.” Milton traced his hand down Tilden’s right thigh, teasing the legs apart. Milton’s fingers stroked the sensitive inner thighs. His hand was too close; he shouldn’t be there, but Tilden sighed, his legs falling more open. “Good boy. Trust me.”

“I do.” The voice was clear and submissive and beautiful. The body lay on Milton’s knee, offered up for all that might happen. He was exquisite, long and lean, the muscles of his back rippling with each heaving breath. The white skin twitched as Milton’s fingers kneaded the waiting target.

Milton’s hand landed, a blossoming of pink on the unblemished skin. Tilden hissed and his body trembled at the first sting. Milton concentrated on the pattern. This wasn’t about sex; it wasn’t about raw power. It was about helping a friend. Who was he kidding? He could feel the arousal in both of them; the air was almost fetid with sexual arousal and tension. No! Help his friend. Think about Luke and Mike. They were beautiful boys. Tilden had been failing them. Luke coped best, moving toward a vanilla relationship that might have always been his natural tendency, but Mike was a different animal. Milton had seen the tension, Mike wanting more and Tilden unable to accept the power and the pleasure. Milton had tried to close the gaps as best he could, but he wasn’t Mike’s lover.

Milton felt the tears more than he heard them. Tilden melted against Milton’s knees and his shoulders shook. Tilden’s ass was a red beacon, the muscles flexing and shivering as they anticipated the next strike. Milton ran his hand over the heated flesh and bent down and kissed the exposed skin above Tilden’s neckline, letting his teeth scrape against the sweat dampened skin more than was appropriate.

“It’s over now,” Milton said, trying to put a brisk friendliness in his tone. He’s not yours, Milton chanted in his head.

Tilden groaned, but didn’t try to rise nor did he stem the flow of silent tears. Milton carded his fingers through the mussed hair, still a light brown from good genes that held off the gray that peppered Milton’s hair and beard.

“Was that awful?” Milton asked as the tears slowed to a few trickles.

“No,” Tilden whispered. “I don’t understand.”

Milton’s hand skimmed over Tilden’s clothed back. He couldn’t touch the exposed flesh, not with Tilden’s half hard cock poking into Milton’s thigh, not with the tightness in Milton’s own pants. Only a few strokes and he could have made this an unforgettable erotic experience for Tilden. It would be so easy. Tilden was so open and wanting and vulnerable and impossibly beautiful.

No! Forbidden!

“I need you to get up for me. My legs are numb.” That was safe. Get the warm body farther away. He couldn’t open that forbidden fortress. Milton pulled up Tilden’s boxers and eased Tilden onto the sofa, pulling a blanket over his torso as he worked off the shoes and pants. This was easier with a boy who had been here before. Tilden kept moving in the wrong direction, tangling his pants into worse knots. “Be still.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. You didn’t know. You haven’t been on this side before.” Pants untangled and blanket tucked around the lean limbs, Milton sat back down and threaded his fingers through Tilden’s silky hair. “I’ve got you. Talk to me now.”

Tilden was silent. His eyes were screwed shut as if he was trying to hide both from himself and from Milton.

“Tilden?”

“Is this how it would have been if we’d been together?” A flush stained Tilden’s aristocratic cheekbones.

“Yes,” Milton said heavily and bent done and kissed Tilden’s forehead.

“I liked it.” The admission was so soft that it was almost lost to the sound of the ceiling fan and the ticktock of the clock in the hall.

“So did I.” Milton stroked the soft hair, trying to put his words together. They would have been good together. He’d felt the connection as soon as Tilden’s head had dropped and the lean body had sunk into Milton’s knees. The submission had been real and complete and delicious in its sweet surrender. Tilden was a beautiful man, a beautiful submissive, but also a beautiful dominant. He had two boys, and Milton had two of his own. That moment had passed them by. They needed to make the here and now work.

“I’m supposed to be a dominant.” Tilden opened his eyes and searched Milton’s face. “I submitted to you. I liked it.” Tilden swallowed hard. “I was aroused by it.”

“Pain and pleasure is a heady mix. You switched for me, but I don’t think this is your natural place. You’re under stress, and I pushed. We’re kinky; the difference between submissive and dominant isn’t always that great.”

“You wouldn’t when we could have.” Tilden shut his eyes. “Bozhe moy.”

“We cannot turn back the clock.” Milton traced the sharp cheekbone with his finger. He wanted to take those lips and engulf them in his own, to plunder the mouth, to kiss every centimeter of the beautiful face, but this wasn’t a fairy tale. They didn’t get a do over.

“I could have submitted to you. I could have been your boy.” Tilden looked up at Milton, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“It wouldn’t have been right. I would have repressed the other side of you.” Even to Milton, the words sounded like an excuse. “I’m a powerful dominant.”

“Sheldon is not repressed. Austin adores you.”

“Austin is young and infatuated. He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Tilden, we’re almost thirty years apart. He just needed love and a steadying hand.”

“He’s not going to leave the best dominant he’ll ever find.” Tilden caught Milton’s wrist and kissed the soft underside. 

“Don’t. We can’t.” Milton pulled his hand back to his lap.

“I would have submitted to you. I would have given you everything.”

“God, don’t I know.” Milton stood and walked to the window. His eyes saw the tangle of bushes and the bright colors of the flower bed, but his brain only registered Tilden’s voice, Tilden’s smell, Tilden’s feel. He wanted that man in his bed. He wanted to be on top of him and watch as he drove that cool intellectual out of his mind. “I can’t. I have two boys. You love Luke and Mike.”

Tilden struggled upright on the sofa. His hair was a tangled mess, making him look younger and vulnerable and delightfully submissive. 

“Oh, God!” Milton moved behind Tilden and wrapped his arms around the lean frame. “I love you, but I can’t. I’ve always loved you.”

“Me too.” Tilden twisted in Milton’s arms. “What do we do now?”

“We do what we’ve always done.” Milton pulled away and moved behind the desk, wanting the solidness between him and the man he wanted. “I love my boys; you love yours. We’ll be OK.”

“I’m not what Mike needs.”

“You love him?”

“Very much,” Tilden said with a sad smile, “but it doesn’t change that he needs a dominant who will...who will… He wants a Ryan.”

“No, Mike doesn’t want that much pain. He wants a leash and a collar and a chance to serve you from his knees, a chance to worship his master.”

“I’m not much of a master.” Tilden fingered his short hair, unable to bring it to its usual tidiness.

“You’re his master and that is all that matters. Let yourself enjoy what he wants to give. There is pleasure for him. You felt it today over my knee. It’s not wrong to take pleasure from either side of the exchange.” Milton stared at his friend, the beautiful eyes down, the cheeks red from earlier tears and embarrassment. “Do you ever take pleasure in the dominant side?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Tilden.” Milton rose and walked over to Tilden. He had to touch his friend. Milton had to reassure himself of the connection. He placed his hands heavy and secure on the lean shoulders. “You live with an overt dominant, the head of the Green Mountain Boys. I enjoy it. Is that wrong?”

“Milton.” Tilden’s voice was a wail of unchecked pain. The tears were real and hard and uncontrolled. This wasn’t the silent crying, but harsh and chest shaking sobs. 

Milton vaulted the sofa and pulled his friend into his lap, tightening his arms around the heaving chest. “I’ve got you. I love you.”

Finally the tears dried to sniffles and hiccups. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Tilden, stop.” Milton landed a swat on the exposed thigh. “Sorry for worrying that you’re hitting the ones you love. Sorry for not understanding the ethics. Sorry that your body wants to take pleasure in this. None of that requires an apology.”

“I shouldn’t hit my lovers. Violence is wrong.”

“Hitting the neighbor with the fire poker is wrong. Beating your partner because your drunk and in a rage is wrong. What we do isn’t so easily categorized. Did you feel abused or mistreated when I was spanking you?” 

“No, but—”

“The ethics are easier from the bottom.” Milton tightened his arms around Tilden and kissed the side of his face. “I get off on dominating someone, on spanking someone, on inflicting pain and suffering. Gordon beat me into facing it, into embracing it, and learning to live with what many consider a perversion. I’ve taken a cane to a boy whose high school diploma is still hot off the presses, and I have to look at myself every day in the mirror.”

“You are a good man.”

“And so are you. Tilden, you are the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever met. I am proud to call you my friend. I am proud to turn to you for advice.”

“I’m a disaster. My advice isn’t worth much,” Tilden said ruefully.

“No, you are a thoughtful man who is honest enough to hold himself to the highest standards and to continue to reevaluate himself and his relationships.” Milton brushed his knuckle down the still damp cheek. “So what brought all this on today?”

“My boys—my partners are getting older.” Tilden hesitated. “It was easy when they were young.”

“You could treat it as nurturing. You’ve seen Zach. You know Ryan. Am I getting close?” Milton smiled and ruffled Tilden’s hair.

“I spanked Luke for not doing his homework. What makes me different from Bruce? Ryan doesn’t approve.”

Milton leaned against his friend as he held Tilden against his chest. Milton was a dominant; he understood the dangers in all that he did, and he understood how close they all walked to a Bruce or worse. “We were all very close to the line with Luke.” Milton paused and cleared his throat. “I think ultimately our judge and jury are the results we have now. Luke is a happy, capable, and confident young man. He was none of those things before.”

“Is he a submissive?”

Milton hesitated. Luke didn’t use those words for himself, and his submission wasn’t the brattiness of Sheldon wanting Milton to chase him down or Blade’s strong sexual desires. It was in that awful gray zone, a submission that had less relationship with sex and eroticism and far more with self-confidence and general personality. Ryan would call it the danger zone, but Luke wasn’t the first boy in whom Milton had seen that flavor of submission. It was subtle and difficult and the ethics of corporal punishment were cloudy at best, but Luke had thrived, and Tilden had backed off when Luke had started to show independence. He’d let Luke find the place where he was most happy—cared for, maybe even spoiled, and allowed to have a gentle fantasy. Luke liked the illusion and so did Tilden. They were a good pair.

“I think so, but not in the ordinary way. He’s not aroused by a real spanking. It’s the caring and the illusion that works for him, and without the sexual side perhaps it’s best not to use the word submissive. He’s certainly not a Mike or a Blade.”

“Ryan would never hit him.”

“Tilden, uncontrolled hitting is something you never did nor something you should fear. There’s a darkness in mine or Ryan’s or Gordon’s dominance. The act of submission, the willingness of a partner to take pain for me, the power I wield—all this is highly erotic. Luke is not a suitable partner for us; he might even be in danger from us on a bad day. We need a partner who responds in kind. Ryan was trained in a club with submissives who go home to return to work as hedge fund managers and corporate lawyers. They don’t want nurtured or guided; they want to escape reality and give up control for a few hours. Blade rarely wants a nurturer or a care taker; he wants a sexual partner who can take him out of himself. He enjoys pain and challenge, and he’s a flaming exhibitionist. They are well suited, and Ryan is learning that with a 24/7 partner even he steps into the guardian and guide role sometimes.”

“Mike wants pain.”

“Sometimes. He more wants to step out of himself and to worry only about pleasing his dominant.”

“I can’t do it for him.”

“Tilden.” Milton trapped Tilden’s face in his hands and studied the anguished deep blue eyes. “Can you not do it because it makes your stomach roil in agony, or can you not do it because you feel the eroticism and you recoil in shame from your own body’s desires?”

“Does it matter?”

“Very much,” Milton said steadily. “If it’s the former, we need to untangle you and Mike. If it’s the latter, I need to teach you to face your reality.”

“I love Mike.”

“Can you dominate him?”

Tilden flushed and his teeth worried his lower lip. “I shouldn’t want it.”

“It’s wrong and unethical, and your best friend is a pervert,” Milton finished for Tilden, letting a relieved humor fill his voice. The former would have been a disaster that Milton didn’t want to contemplate.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to, my boy.” Milton sobered and stroked the side of Tilden’s face. “This is my fault. I never taught you properly about your role. I was afraid because of your experience with Gordon, but more because I loved you and was afraid of losing you.” Milton laced his fingers into Tilden’s hand. “Shh. Listen to me. I was afraid my dominance, naked and exposed, would chase you away, and I also want you when you are limp and compliant and too lovely for words. I’m a strong dominant; I could convince you that your place is at my feet. I didn’t have the willpower as a young man, and I hardly have it now.”

Tilden fingered the sofa cushion. “I would have given you everything.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “I still would.”

“I know,” Milton said softly, “but it is today and not yesterday. We have responsibilities and many who we would hurt. A sixsome isn’t viable.”

“Landon is with Gordon. You didn’t believe two tops were viable.”

“Tilden, we’re adults here. This isn’t a romance movie.”

Tilden pulled away and found his trousers on the arm of the chair. He jerked them on and buckled his belt with savage motions. “Twenty years ago I was naive. All I knew was that I loved you, and you pushed me away for reasons I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand.”

“Tilden.” Milton braced his hands on his knees and tried to keep his voice level. “My sexuality isn’t as fluid as Landon’s or Gordon’s. I wasn’t equipped in my twenties to have a fellow dominant as my partner. I would have crushed you.”

“You don’t crush Sheldon, and he’s impossible.”

“He’s a submissive.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. Landon isn’t a submissive. He’s a switch and only truly submissive to Gordon. I’m the same way. I’m submissive to you, but Gordon could burn in hell before I would submit to him, and Ryan is a nice guy, but I don’t want to be on my knees to him, no matter how beautiful he is. I want to be on my knees to you. I yield to you; everybody in this house knows it. Or maybe you, Mr. Measured Perfection, don’t know it. Not everything can be controlled and calculated and measured.”

“Tilden, please.”

“You deserve this, you heartless bastard. I loved you. I still love you. I don’t care about convention and duty or anything else. You took a seventeen-year-old to your bed, and you wouldn’t touch me. Rigid, self-important asshole!”

“Tilden!”

“If the shoe fits wear it, and you don’t have the right to dominate me.”

“Stop.” 

Tilden had always obeyed, but he kept walking. Milton tackled him, a flying leap from his days on the rugby pitch. He landed on Tilden, pinning the lighter man to the floor.

“Get off me!”

“Boy, you don’t walk out on me.” Milton swallowed the protest in a kiss.

It was hot and quick and almost vicious. Milton traced the bite mark on Tilden’s shoulder as Tilden’s hand stoked the line of scratches on Milton’s chest.

“What did we just do?” Milton asked, rolling onto his elbow.

“Fucked like rabbits on the floor.”

“Are you OK?”

“Physically there’s nothing that won’t heal in a day or two. I don’t know about the rest. What do I tell Luke and Mike?”

“The truth,” Milton said, sitting up and searching for his shirt in the scattered clothes. “I have Sheldon and Austin. There are no platitudes or varnish to hide this. It was a betrayal of trust.”

“I pushed you.”

“No,” Milton said sharply. “This is my responsibility. I knew better.”

“I might be the submissive in this arrangement, but I’m not an idiot or without freewill. I’ll get my boys home. They need to be told.”

“We’ll do this together. Tonight.”

Milton stared at the phone. He’d texted Sheldon and asked him to be home by eight, but what was he going to say? Sheldon was the boy who he’d promised to cherish and to love and to protect forever, and Milton had been rolling around on the floor with his best friend.

He knew the number. He punched it in without thinking.

“Gordon, I fucked up.”

“Milton. Boy.” The voice was deep and reassuring and sent the tears spilling over the edge. Milton clutched the phone and desperately fought to control his breathing and his tears. He wasn’t the kid anymore who could cry on Gordon’s shoulder. “Can you talk now?” Gordon asked as Milton’s labored breathing lessened.

“Yes, sir.”

“How awful is it?”

“Tilden and I…” Milton couldn’t seem to form the words. He could see the images. He could still feel those legs wrapped around his waist. He could still hear the hoarse cries as Tilden had climaxed.

“You had sex together,” Gordon said flatly. “How long?”

“Just today,” Milton managed.

“Boy, I’m not surprised. I’m just surprised it took so long.”

“But—”

“Milton, I don’t have a monogamous relationship with Landon. I’m not going to scold you for following an instinct you have long denied. It would be hypocrisy You love Tilden; that has been obvious. Yes, I wish we weren’t having to present it to the boys as a done deal. I believe the objections over tightening your family's entanglement would have been few. The complications are greater now. Sheldon has come to accept the other demands on you and even come to enjoy another man in his bed and in your heart. I’ve watched him with Austin; Sheldon loves that boy. Sheldon adores Tilden, and Tilden’s gentleness and calmness will be good for the boy.”

“I’m more worried about Luke and Mike.”

“Luke will follow Mike, and Mike will be at your feet. He needs a dominant, and he was just handed one on a silver platter. Tilden was never going to take that role. Tilden stays away from me, but I still saw the strain in the relationship; you couldn’t have been unaware.”

“I knew. That’s how today started.”

“Milton, I’ll have you tell me everything, but let’s focus on damage control first.”

“You are suggesting I expand the relationship to encompass all six of us?”

“I see no other way. That degree of polyamory is very difficult and usually unsustainable beyond a brief orgy, but your lives were already highly integrated. They weren’t in your bed, but they are used to living in each other’s pockets. You were a single family, and you were always the head man.”

“I wasn’t fucking Tilden.”

“Watch your language, young man. That level of disrespect toward Tilden and toward yourself is unacceptable. You took a mental relationship physical, and neither Landon or I are proponents of only traditional relationships. Andrew, your grandfather, was a traditionalist; I am not. Having Austin has loosened your boundaries and pushed you to the place you should have found two decades ago. It’s about love. Forget the outside labels of church and society.”

“I’m not capable of loving five people equally.”

“It’s not about an abstract equality. It’s about finding a relationship that meets everyone’s needs. Luke will never want you the way he wants Tilden. Sheldon and Tilden could become rivals, but I believe Tilden is wise enough to prevent it. Austin gains far more supervision, and at eighteen that is a positive development.”

“Tilden’s submissive with me.”

“Everyone already knows that. They’ll figure it out in bed. Milton, you’ll have to work very hard at this, harder than you’ve ever worked in your life, but it’s not impossible. It doesn’t have to be a disaster, and if it does fly apart, Landon and I will do all we can to support you all individually and together. You are a very good man who made a mistake which started twenty years ago. You are trying to make it right for everyone, and that it all anyone can ask. Pandora’s box has been opened; we can’t shut it. It would be deadly for you and Tilden to admit the liaison and then try to reset the clock. The only hope is to face the new reality.”