Breakfast of Champions

Breakfast of Champions

Tilden stared at the gauntlet of faces. He’d eaten breakfast here thousand of times; he’d sat at this very table thousand of times with Milton at one end and Gordon at the other, with the silver serving platters and the smell of the finest coffee wafting from the cups, with the easy elegance of Landon and Gordon and the explosiveness of Blade. Why was he swallowing hard now and wanting to bury himself in his beloved Russian? 

Tilden moved to sit in his usual place by Luke, but with an imperceptible flick of Milton’s head, Sheldon moved to free his seat for Tilden. Gordon nodded and slowly took another sip of coffee. Ryan’s blue eyes rested on Tilden’s face, and he smiled gently. This was the smile he showed to a hesitant submissive, the sweet and protective dominant.

“I can’t do this.” Tilden’s voice sounded foreign to his ears. He turned and tried to take even strides from the dining room. He wasn’t a Green Mountain Boy submissive. He was Milton’s lover. He wasn’t all this other stuff.

“Let Ryan,” Gordon said, his voice rich with authority and calm. 

“He’s mine.”

“His problem is not with you; it’s with us. Ryan will handle it.”

Ryan was at Tilden’s shoulder before Tilden could make it to the door. His smile was affable, and his brilliantly blue eyes glinted with amusement. He was impossibly young. What could he know about life? Tilden had been with Milton for years; he didn’t need or want a lecture from the young and brash.

“Let’s go in the kitchen and eat with no one staring. Milton will inform the others,” Ryan said with another smile. At least he’d had the good sense not to put his arm around Tilden’s shoulder. Tilden didn’t think he would have been able to hang on to his politeness. 

“I know I’m considered a menace in the kitchen, but this is ridiculous.”

Ryan leaned against the stainless steel countertop. He was a huge man, and despite the sunny smile on his face, it was obvious that Tilden couldn’t just walk by him. He was an immovable object in a turtleneck and a fleece pullover.

“So you made it official?” Ryan asked.

Tilden shrugged and thought of several dozen choice Russian phrases.

“Tilden, nothing changes between us unless you want it to. I realized you were submissive to Milton a long time ago, and I couldn't care less if you like to be bossed in the bedroom. Your sexuality is not my business, but here I am also a Green Mountain Boy. I have a responsibility to you as a Green Mountain Boy dominant and as safety officer. Your status here has changed, and you are well aware of that or you wouldn’t have looked rigid as you walked into breakfast. I am not unaware of the strife between you and Gordon, and now within the hierarchy of this organization, those of us who stand under the dominant flag must be respected and obeyed at a least a superficial level.” Ryan smiled again. “I have no desire to play dominant with you, so unless you need me in some way as a dominant nothing’s changed between us. Touching you would feel like assault. You’re Milton’s submissive, not mine. Your submission is personal and private, and I’m more than delighted to leave it that way.”

“Then why am I here?” 

“To have breakfast,” Ryan said flippantly and reached for the refrigerator door. “Citrus or berries?”

“Ryan,” Tilden said, letting exasperation creep into his voice. “I don’t like these games.”

“I thought we were eating breakfast, not playing games” Ryan pulled out both the strawberries and the oranges.

“You know what I mean.” Tilden collapsed into one of the four kitchen chairs and forced himself to fold his hands on the table. He wasn’t going to show this young and overly confident giant the state of his nerves. He wanted to be alone with his books. He needed to process the changes his few simple words to Milton had put in motion.

“I do,” Ryan said softly. “You’re out as a submissive now. We’re both young enough not to have lived through the humiliation and terror of hiding our identity as gay men, but you hid your identity as a submissive. Somehow you were slotted to the dominant side and you have a personality that abhors upheaval. You love Milton desperately, and you pretended to be what you thought he wanted. He loves you equally desperately, and he’s terrified of hurting you. You’re not a Sheldon. I didn’t know Milton as a young man, but I suspect Sheldon’s needs were far easier for him to manage than your needs. You bend to his will too easily. Hell, you pretended to be a dominant for years despite your lack of affinity for the whole process. Live it up. You’re finally on the right team. The gang will adjust, and we’ll take good care of you, not that you need it.”

“What about Gordon?”

“Gordon’s lots of things, some of them I don’t like much, but he’s protective of his submissives and every Green Mountain Submissive is his. He won’t eat you alive, and he listens to Milton.”

“I don’t like the man.”

Ryan popped a strawberry in his mouth. “That’s no secret, but he got you out of the dining room because he knows you’re on edge with him. He was preventing a confrontation. I’m the big bull moose that nothing is supposed to shake my smile, so I got drafted as escort. Gordon knows going all dominant with you will hurt both you and Milton. Let Milton buffer him until you decide otherwise. Milton actually understands Gordon and Landon, which should be worth several extra academic degrees.”

“I won’t obey him.”

“I‘d keep that private. You are a Green Mountain Boy and a Green Mountain Submissive. You have no choice in the matter.”

Tilden looked up into Ryan’s blue eyes. They were serious; all the earlier humor was gone. “I’m not his submissive,” Tilden said, wishing his voice didn’t sound defensive. He didn’t want any of this. He only wanted Milton and his family, not these crazy rituals and hierarchies and posturing.

“Tilden,” Ryan said gently, “even as a dominant I obey Gordon and Milton. It’s part of being a Green Mountain Boy. I do it for Blade, and I’ve actually come to like it, or at least usually. You do it for Milton. You’re Milton’s boy, and he wears Green Mountain Boy jammies to bed.”

“Ryan!”

“Well, it’s true and you know it.” Ryan set a bowl of fruit he’d been cutting in front of Tilden. “Eat this or I will have been a very bad dominant and let the poor submissive go hungry. Blistering lecture or worse. Help me out here and eat up.”

“You’re not going to kiss my forehead or tousle my hair?”

“Only if you want me to.” Ryan snatched another strawberry. “Do you want?”

Tilden poked an orange slice with a fork. Did he want? 

Ryan’s big arm snaked around Tilden’s neck, and the kiss on the top of Tilden’s head was firm and possessive. “Chew me out later, but you looked like you needed it.”

Tilden leaned into the contact and drew a deep breath. He had needed it. “Thank you, Ryan.”

“Any time. Now eat, so Milton’s not on my ass. He protects his boys, and a starved boy will be my fault.”

Tilden swallowed a chunk of orange and managed a faint smile. “I’ll eat.”