Home, Master 2

Home, Master 2

“Are you OK?” Tilden was sitting on the bed dressed in striped pajamas that looked more appropriate for a pensioner than a member of the legendary Green Mountain Boys.

“I’ve got a piece of steel shoved up my ass and a fucking cage on my cock. So what do you think?” Sheldon knew he was being obnoxious, but he couldn’t seem to stop his mouth. This was the easy side, the sharp comments and the bratty remarks.

Tilden brushed the hair off Sheldon’s forehead and looked into the redhead’s eyes. Tilden’s own eyes were clouded with worry. “Sheldon.” Tilden hesitated, and Sheldon could almost hear Tilden’s mind turning over in the Russian he so often used in this situation. “Come here.” Tilden stood, grabbed Sheldon’s hand, and dragged him into the kitchen. He dropped two small glasses onto the table and jerked a liter bottle from the freezer. He poured the clear liquid without asking and swallowed a large gulp before turning toward Sheldon. “Drink.”

“Tilden…” Sheldon hesitated. He didn’t drink, or at least not without Milton, and he didn’t like vodka. Gasoline might be as tasty.

“You’re not driving. You’re with a dominant.” Tilden smiled, or maybe he barred his teeth. “I’m not drinking alone, and I need a drink.” Tilden swallowed the rest of the glass in a single gulp before grabbing a hunk of bread and shoving it into his mouth. He muttered something incomprehensible in Russian. He poured another full glass, swallowing half, before handing a full glass to Sheldon. "Za Zdorovie." 

Sheldon swallow a mouthful and repressed a strong urge to cough. Why was he drinking this poison with Tilden? Hell, why was Tilden drinking? Tea maybe. Sheldon could see the tea, but vodka, and vodka with a determination it seemed to kill the bottle. "You know Milton will beat our asses if we get shit faced drunk."

"What's it like?" Tilden slammed back another healthy swallow. "Getting beat I mean."

"Not worth it for fire water." Sheldon took a tentative sip and reached into the fridge for a Coke. He straddled a chair, flinching as the damn plug hit the hard surface and looked up at Tilden. God, Sheldon needed to talk to this man. He could see the hurt and concern etched over Tilden's expressive face. He was a good looking man, still far more boyish than Milton and somehow softer also. Tilden could get angry; Sheldon had provoked it a few times, but Tilden was usually the gentle, smiling man in contrast to Milton's hardness and remoteness. Sheldon choked back half the vodka--liquid courage. "What do you need to know?"

"Chto?"

"No, we're not doing the Russian babble. I'm not Luke; beyond one or two words, it starts sounding like gibberish. I'm Sheldon, fucking submissive Sheldon. Yeah, the cat's out of the bag. I'm not immature, I'm not irresponsible, I'm not a lunatic, at least according to Milton. I'm submissive to the core, and I like a heavy all the time. Shit!" Sheldon raked his fingers through his hair and swallowed another slug of vodka. "Maybe the drink was a good idea."

"What have I done?" Tilden's voice cracked with anguish. "I've taken your place."

"Stop it!" Sheldon shouted. "Fuck! I'm not going to tell you that it didn't hurt like hell. It still does sometimes, but you’re Milton's truest friend and lover and fellow dominant. The soft side he doesn't always find in himself. I'm his slave; I worship at his feet. We have different places."

"Sheldon, but—"

"No. You didn't start all this. I'm getting pretty damn old to toss rolls across the dinner table, and it was getting fucking stupid to keep pretending that I needed someone to manage getting me off to work every morning. I like someone getting me off to work every morning, but that's a different story. It was time for me to grow up."

"You have no autonomy. He ordered you into my bed tonight."

"And he put me in a cock cage which he knew guaranteed you'd do nothing more than talk and cuddle. He knows you too well, but he didn't guess the drink part." Sheldon sloshed more vodka into both their glasses. "Milton needs some surprises; it will keep him on his toes."

"Sheldon, are you really all right with this?"

Sheldon ran his finger around his glass and took a single swallow. He coughed and reached for his Coke can. "Next time you want a booze fest we're having wine. This stuff is like battery acid."

"It's an acquired taste. One I shouldn't be acquiring again. Not with Milton." Tilden shuddered.

"Does he scare you?"

"Sometimes," Tilden said after a moment's hesitation. "But I think I scare myself more."

"Like it too well," Sheldon said with a wide grin. "Rips the doors right off propriety and proper college Prof."

Tilden nodded, a blush rising up his fair cheeks.

"You're a dominant. It's OK to get off on it. You've bottomed for Milton; you've got to know that my side certainly gets a rise out of it."

Tilden blushed harder and reached for his glass. 

"You've been living with Mr. Head of the Green Mountain Boys and you blush like a school girl over a little chitchat."

"It seems," Tilden hesitated, "so naughty."

"Nothing’s wrong with naughty, and you best get used to it. A ménage of six is going to turn heads.We stopped being ordinary and boring a long time ago. We’re probably well beyond naughty and into racy and crazy."

"I know." Tilden seemed to have recovered his equilibrium. "I understand the play better, and I accept it on a good day." A sweet smile played across his lips for a second. "But what happened, that wasn't play. Ryan wouldn't say much, but I could hear it in his voice. Milton really hurt you."

"I wanted him to." God, it even sounded stupid to his own ears. It had fucking hurt. Sheldon never wanted to feel pain like that again. He didn't get his brother's fascination with pain. The younger Zath could have that, but Sheldon had felt the other—the complete surrender to Milton's will. He'd needed to go beyond himself at least that once. He'd needed to find out that he could really do it. Sheldon stared down into his glass of clear fire. “The explanation sounds stupid, I know, but I needed to do it once. I needed to give it all up and be at Milton’s complete mercy, and it needed to be real. Don’t worry, it’s out of my system.”

Tilden tore off another chunk of bread. “What about all this master stuff?”

“I wanted that—not that it isn’t hard sometimes.” Sheldon snorted. “Sometimes I think I’ve lost my fucking mind. Tonight I wanted to strangle Milton. He did explain later, or I might have.” Sheldon fingered his glass. “You know he doesn’t have to explain any longer. I gave him all the rights, but he still does. That’s why I trust him and love him.” Sheldon took another swallow of vodka. “This stuff is going to kill me. Yuck! I’m going to bed before I start to think this swill tastes good. Are you coming?” Sheldon stood and held out his hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now stop asking the slave boy questions and start ordering me about. That’s what I like.”

“Bed, boy,” Tilden mocked growled. “But sleep only.” Tilden struggled to his feet, gripping Sheldon’s hand a little too tightly. “I’m too old for drinking this stuff. Ugh!”

“If you vomit on me, Tilden, I’m letting Milton have your hide.”

“I might be a light weight, but even I’m not sick on two and a half glasses. Are you questioning your dominant?”

“No, sir.”

“Why somehow don’t I believe you?”

“Tilden,” Sheldon said softly and stretched up to kiss the taller man’s cheek. “I’m teasing, but I do listen. You are a dominant, and I respect and need that side of you. Sometimes it’s nice to curl up with a dominant who won’t put stripes on my hide. Can we go to bed now? I really am tired.”

“Yes, boy.”