Green Pastures 1

Green Pastures

“Austin,” Sheldon shouted. Nothing. He wasn’t up here. He wasn’t over the garage. He was going to kill that boy. Yeah, right, if there was anything left after Master found out.

Sheldon had heard the conversation last week. Probably the whole house had heard it. Austin was a sweet and wonderful boy ninety percent of the time, but when he had a bee in his bonnet, he was a demon. Last week he’d been a demon. Sheldon got it, not that he hadn’t sympathized with Master’s wry look at the conclusion of the conversation. He’d been looking like one of those poor newscasters tossed out into a hurricane to show the viewer the power of the storm.

Austin had wanted to go out, a charity auction of some sort, only the auction lots were willing serfs. Milton was the possessive sort. Sheldon had known it was a no go at the first whiff of Austin’s plans, but the boy was woefully optimistic and stubborn, and as spoiled as the little cub was maybe he had a right to both his stubbornness and his optimism. Milton might have found a way if he hadn’t been away for a conference. He could have gone and bought his own boy, but it would be a cold day in hell before Milton would let anyone buy Austin even if it was only to paint the kitchen or weed the flower beds. His cub was owned, and his cub was staying home.

And that cub was going to be dead, and Sheldon wasn’t likely to survive the fires unscathed either. He was head boy. He should have been able to keep track of one cub, especially one cub who he knew had been tempted and sometimes had the common sense of the average twenty year old college boy which meant zero, nada, none. Undoubtedly Milton had somehow skipped the flights of temporary insanity, but Sheldon hadn’t, and he’d more than known that sometimes Austin was bit by the insanity bug. Those days were a doozy.

This was obviously one of them. Sheldon understood it, not that extricating him without fangs of an irate dom chewing out his throat was going to be possible. Sheldon was good, but he didn’t have a cape and he couldn’t stop speeding bullets. Both Sheldon and Austin had already worn threadbare the argument that Austin needed a chance to be an ordinary college kid without the shadow of his dominant looming at every corner.

Milton was actually decent about it. Sheldon had to give his master credit where credit was due. He ducked out of the way when Austin invited friends over, no fire breathing roars or royal proclamations. He also gave the kid a fair amount of rein to play with his friends. Get home at a halfway decent time and do nothing illegal, and don’t lead your friends on. Master was adamant about the last one. Austin was taken, and his friends needed to know it. He didn’t need to tell them that he knelt for someone old enough to be his dad, but he better not play the field. That law was written in stone for all of them. Six was more than enough complications.

Master would see this as a violation of the last one. Not good, not good in huge giant letters. Sheldon had heard enough of the conversation to know where master stood.

“No, Austin, it is not yours to give away or to sell. It is mine, and I don’t give permission.” End of conversation.

Austin had been fuming. “It’s for charity, and he acts like I want to whore myself out.”

Sheldon had made sympathetic noises and tried to explain. With 20-20 hindsight, he should have ratted Austin out. A few preemptive strikes with the cane, and Austin would be cuddled up with Sheldon watching television. Now Sheldon was frantically figuring out how to get him back home before master knew.

Sheldon would have to tell master. Lying, dissembling, or just plain dodging the truth was well out with a slave collar around his neck. He’d get Austin home, harder to be furious with a cute kid looking at you with pleading eyes, but that was as far as Sheldon could go. Sheldon had signed the contract. He knew exactly what the words meant, and he honored them. Sometimes he might hate the impersonal black and white print, but Sheldon understood, respected it even. He was in Milton’s power; there could be no dishonesty between them, or they would both get hurt. He wasn’t the kid brat anymore. He couldn’t dance around the truth and hope Milton solved the puzzle. Even Austin couldn’t do that. Life was a lot more complicated now. Sheldon had been the only one through his horrors. He’d been indulged; he knew it, and he didn’t envy Austin’s youth and the complications of polyamory. The kid was a saint, except for the occasional disaster.

Sheldon rifled through Austin’s backpack. The cub had shown Milton the invitation, all fancy with a gold foil envelope. It would be here; the boy was a pack rat. He also knew he was doing something wrong, and he’d leave a trail of bread crumbs to the scene of the crime. He always did. Disobeying but guilty as hell about it and wanting to be caught out. That was Austin.

Sheldon found the invite, crumpled with some of Austin’s chicken scrawl on the back. It wasn’t far from Miles and Simon’s place. Sheldon knew the place, a respectable hangout with a good coffee shop by day and a lively wine bar scene at night. Nothing too horrible would happen there. Master was being fussy, but that was master’s prerogative.

Sheldon pulled out his phone. The text was short and to the point, not that he expected an answer. Austin on a tear turned off his phone. Otherwise he was a good boy and answered Milton’s text or calls. He was pathologically obedient when he wasn’t totally off his rails.

No answer.

Time for plan B. Right, he hadn’t had a plan A. This was all off the cuff. Miles was the best bet. Austin knew him and wouldn’t be outright disobedient with him, not if Miles stayed in dominant mode and he would for this.

“Miles.”

“Sheldon, who flew the coop?”

“What?”

“You don’t call me at work for a social call. I know you can hear the glasses clinking behind me, so if I was being invited to one of Milton’s torturous evenings of entertainment with the five course dinner to go with the five act lecture on some protocols I’ve shredded into ribbons, you wouldn’t call me here.”

“Have you been shredding protocol to ribbons?”

“You know me,” Miles said in the same easy tone he said everything. Sheldon could imagine him wagging his head and grinning and all his piercings waving in the breeze. “I’m good at protocol shredding, just ask Josh.”

“You get into it with him?”

“Does walking off the job when he’s helping replace the plumbing in my own bathroom count as having it out with him?”

“Shit!” Sheldon groaned in sympathy. Josh and Miles had a relationship that was as confusing as it was intricate. They clearly adored each other, but Miles had this peculiar habit of poking Josh in all the places that led to retribution. Josh was old-fashioned and not above doling out some pretty draconian punishments. Sheldon preferred to leave him well enough alone.

“The welts gave Steve a pause, but they’re about healed, and I feel good, man.”

“You know there are other ways to submit.”

Miles laughed, easily and happily. “Hello, Sheldon, I live with a dom who’s hard pressed to go anywhere close to sadism, and we both dom a sweet boy who turns sheet white at Blade’s or Mike’s games. I get stressed. Josh is uncomplicated for that. I can go to Simon if I want nurtured or some really good sex, and I’ve even gone to Milton once or twice, but I always end up feeling like I’m getting a PhD lecture on power dynamics.” Miles must have been pouring drinks because Sheldon heard the clink of ice and the sound of a glass sliding over a smooth surface. “Don’t take it wrong. Milton’s fantastic, but we just don’t click.”

“Miles, I know.” Sheldon kept his voice easy and deferential. With Miles he was never sure who to be, but he didn’t want to argue about master. Miles had a hang up about authority, but it wasn’t Sheldon’s job to fix it. Milton would be irritated if he tried. He’d been told often enough not to pester Miles; almost as often as he’d been told not to wind up Steve.

“What do you need, Sheldon?” Miles asked, steering the conversation back on track and sounding far more like the confident dominant who stood flanking Steve at any Green Mountain Boys’ event.

“Austin’s been an idiot. I need you to get him.”

Sheldon explained rapidly and succinctly Austin’s adventure with the charity auction and Milton’s displeasure.

“I’ll go buy him, but I can’t abandon Simon to close. Send Josh up to take him home. He won’t do a runner from Josh.”

“Josh scares him.”

“All the better. He disobeyed his dominant. He deserves that sort of scared, and Milton will approve.”

“Miles.”

“I do listen when Milton lectures at me. He’s not going to want to beat Austin senseless, but he’s going to want the kid to think the world is coming down around his ears. You know as well as I do that psychological trauma and manipulation are part of his arsenal.”

“He won’t hurt Austin.”

“Don’t you go flipping my words around on me. Milton’s possessive and Austin wants to be possessed. He’ll remind the boy what that means, not torture him. Sheldon, it’s not my dynamic, and I try to take the piss out of Milton’s arrogance, but I respect the guy. He hasn’t killed you yet, and if I thought Austin was in one iota of danger, I’d never bring him home. I’m just saying he’s going to get roughed up a bit, and you better brace yourself. You love your cub, and when he’s crying you get less rational. Watch yourself, Sheldon. Trust Milton here the way you trust him with all of you.”

“Yes, sir.” It was the only answer possible. Miles was the dom, and he was the slave.

“Sheldon, I wish you wouldn’t go there. I’ll get Austin.”

The phone clicked off. Just as well, Sheldon didn’t know what he’d say to Miles. He liked Miles. Why did all conversations always seem to end on the edge of a spat? Miles was a good guy, and he made Sheldon itch to do all sorts of things that would have master furious.

****

Austin stared up at the ceiling. He’d have to get up soon. He couldn’t hide here all morning. He’d heard Sheldon get up this morning. Sheldon stayed on Milton’s schedule, up at six even when Milton wasn’t here. It was almost eight now, and Sunday breakfast was at nine. Milton wouldn’t be home until afternoon; maybe running away was a good plan.

Austin groaned and buried his head under the pillows. Who was he kidding? He’d lived through Milton’s teaching and enough lectures from a barrel of dominants and submissives to know what he was and what he had. He was a submissive in huge and giant capital letters, and he damn near lived to hear Milton call him a good boy. Mike fought with dominants for sport, and Sheldon could fight for real all spit and claws or the detached and perfect automaton, but Austin just turned into a puddle of wimpy desperation.

Last night tears had been mighty close when Josh had nodded toward his truck. Milton called Josh a good dominant. In real trouble Austin was supposed to call him or Ryan. Ry was so much easier, always smiling and teasing and strong enough to swing Austin up onto his shoulders. Josh was genetically programmed to do nothing but glare and frown, and some supernatural dom must charge him a nickel for every word he spoke. Had he said ten words last night? Not to Austin. He might have said twenty to poor Joe.

It had been Joe’s fault that Austin had agreed to the auction. Joe’s life was shit right now, and he’d wanted a little fun. A roaring fight with his boyfriend had left him couch surfing with  everyone he knew, and his relationship with his family was no better. And last night he’d met the rampaging Josh, a rhinoceros on the loose in a jewelry store would be more subtle.

It had taken Josh about two minutes to realize Joe had nowhere to go, and he’d been bulldozed into one of the guest rooms. Austin had seen his eyes: wide, frightened, and somehow terribly relieved that it was out of his hands. Austin liked Joe, but the boy needed a keeper. He took disasters to an art form.

“Austin, it’s morning.” Sheldon walked in and started rummaging in Austin’s drawers, doing the slave thing and sorting the clothes.

“Yeah, I thought that big golden thing was the sun.”

“Austin.” Sheldon flopped on the bed and patted Austin’s leg under the quilt. “Don’t go there. You really don’t do trouble well. Just suck it up and get it over with.”

“Sheldon!”

Sheldon wrapped his arm around Austin and pulled him into a tight hug. “You’re not exactly brand new at this. Deliberately defying your dominant tends not to end with a ticker tape parade. He won’t kill you.”

“Does he know?”

Sheldon gave Austin a crooked smile and kissed his forehead. “I had to call Miles and Josh last night. Of course he knows.”

“Bad?” Austin asked, hoping, but knowing he was being naive. Milton was going to be royally pissed.

“Not happy is the kindest way to put it,” Sheldon said, brushing the hair off Austin’s face and touching his lips to Austin’s cheek. “He’s better this morning. You know what he’s like with you, cub.”

“Suffocating.”

“Hey.” Sheldon lifted Austin’s chin, his green eyes way too close. “You mean that?”

“God, no.” Austin blinked back his tears. He cried easily, a perfect waterworks. “It’s just…” Austin struggled to keep his voice steady.

“Milton’s going to be all over your ass in more ways than one, and after the initial horror, it feels good, and that’s a damn hard thing to admit. Been there; done that. It’s safe, secure, and very loved when he decides that you can’t breathe without checking with him first. It’s OK to like it.” Sheldon reached up and fingered his collar. “You’re talking to the slave boy who has to ask for a dollar to get a soda.”

“I don’t want caned.” Austin fingered the quilt, wishing he could just hide under it and make the day go away. Milton angry was scary, and he was going to be angry.

“You have to take the good with the bad.” Sheldon tousled Austin’s hair. “There are better ways to get what you wanted, but you’re still a baby.”

“Sheldon!” Austin batted at Sheldon.

“The world looks a lot different at thirty and even more different at thirty-five. There’s no hurry. We like you this way.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Sheldon kissed Austin and nipped at his lip. “Don’t pout. Kiddo,” he said after a pause, “how much of this was about Joe? You know you could ask, and Milton would have found a roof for him. He has it tattooed on his soul that you don’t leave kids in trouble out there alone.”

“Joe’s not going to—“

“He’s not going to like it, so you dropped him in deep enough that all escape routes are closed,” Sheldon finished. “That’s the hard way to find out you’re submissive and that you need a keeper because you’re still so young you haven’t figured out how to pay rent. He’s not going to be a happy camper, and you’re going to be the target of his anger.”

“He was OK with Josh.”

“Josh was in bulldozer mode. No one with two brain cells together would have made a peep last night with him. Milton will make him spell out that he’s a submissive. It’s going to get much worse before it gets better.”

“But—“

“Austin, I know. I’ve done this to people before.”

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t trying to set him up.”

Sheldon gave Austin a long look. “Do you really believe that? Be damn sure that’s the truth before you tell Milton that story. Lying will not make him any happier. Now up.” Sheldon hauled Austin from the bed and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Shower and breakfast. Mace is making waffles. You don’t want to miss them.”

They knew. They all knew. Of course there was no way they couldn’t know, but it was always fun to pretend that privacy wasn’t a foreign concept. Austin kept his head down and willed breakfast to be over. Unfortunately it was Sunday, and Sunday breakfast was a long drawn out affair that often morphed into more of a brunch than a breakfast, and he should be grateful for it. Once breakfast was over, he had a list of chores, busy work to keep him at home until Milton arrived and the massacre started.

“Ah, the baby feeling a little green this morning,” Mike teased. “Are you going to feel the kiss of the cane?”

“Shut it, Mike.” Sheldon said from across the table.

“Yeah, right, and I’m going to listen to you.”

“Boys,” Tilden said softly. He wasn’t a dominant, but he was sane and gentle and practiced being a civilized human or at least that was how Austin thought of him. He always felt more adult, someone with authority no matter that he bent his head to Milton. Tilden’s thumb grazed over Austin’s hand, a gentle reminder that he was still here. “Are you all right?”

Austin looked up and studied those blue eyes that in the right light were almost violet. He liked Tilden, but it was Milton who anchored him in the house. Tilden was sweet, but he wasn’t why Austin lived here. He’d never hurt the man; Milton loved him, but he was somehow in a more distant orbit.

“Milton will be home in a few hours, and I know that’s who you need, but I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Austin mumbled. It was a genuine offer, not mere empty words. Tilden didn’t do empty words, but a cup of tea and a chat about linguistic nuances wasn’t sufficient distraction. He wasn’t Luke who seemed to have a near orgasm talking about incomprehensible stuff.

“I don’t think he finds discussing Russian participles entertaining.” 

Oh, God, Mike was in one of his pissy moods. Austin wasn’t up to coping.

“Fuck!” Mike shouted and jumped up from the table.

Trent had hit him across the shoulders with his spatula and hard if Mike’s reaction was genuine.

“I’d rather not play these games, but I can,” Trent said in the lazy drawl that he’d picked up from Mace. He wasn’t a cowboy, but he could play one on TV.

“That hurt.”

“Well?” Trent asked, spatula still in hand.

“I’ll eat my breakfast.”

“Thank you. I prefer not to give our guest more of a show, and I have some books that need sorted and shelved at the store.”

“Trent!”

“I’m serious, Mike.”

Mike groaned and flopped back down at the table. “That’s not even the fun side.”

“That’s Milton’s department. Being referee isn’t my idea of a good time either, but you didn’t leave me much choice. You know as well as I do which side of the fence I stand on.”

“You don’t do it much.”

“Don’t have to. Milton lives in this house. Plus I don’t much like to, but you don’t get a free pass on rudeness. You don’t have to be a dominant to appreciate courtesy.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike said. He held Trent’s gaze for a second before going back to his breakfast.

“Thank you.” Trent slid another waffle onto Mike’s plate. “I have plenty more.”

“You’re stuffing me.”

Austin shoved his waffle into the syrup. He wasn’t hungry, yet he could feel the decrease in tension. Trent wasn’t Milton or Ryan. Austin could almost forget that he was a dominant, but even the shadowy threads were a comfort. Milton would be home; he’d fix this.

“Austin, they’re your favorite,” Trent said, his eyes on Austin’s uneaten breakfast.

“Not hungry.”

“I know, but I have a need to feed you.” Trent put this hand on Austin’s shoulder. “I do know what’s going on. Milton will ask if you ate anything. I’m not going to be responsible for your starvation.”

“I’m not going to starve. I had dinner.”

“You know Milton. Is he entirely logical about that sort of thing?”

“No,” Austin said with a snort.

“Bingo. Eat a few bites then you can tell him you had breakfast. OK?”

“OK.” Austin forced his fork toward his mouth. Mace and Trent’s waffles were always perfect, but today it could have been a cardboard box. He chewed and forced himself to swallow.

“Good boy.”

Austin lifted his eyes and stared at Trent.

“I don’t usually have to. Don’t look at me like I have two heads. I can always call Josh.”

Austin shook his head.

“Figured that,” Trent said with an easy smile. “Call him to thank him for getting you and Joe home.”

Austin nodded. He didn’t want to call Josh, but it was the right thing to do. Milton would insist, and Josh had gone out of his way. He deserved to be thanked, and Josh wouldn’t lecture, not that Austin wouldn’t know his displeasure. He could pin a submissive with one word.

****

Sheldon looked out the open front door at Austin who was bent over the heavy planters that lined both sides of the stairs. It was still too early for the geraniums which always filled them in the summer, but the pansies would survive the unpredictable spring weather. After the heavy snows of last winter, everyone was more than ready for spring and a color besides white.

Austin hated gardening. Last year he’d threatened to buy plastic flowers much to everyone’s amusement. Milton was an absolute purest about the flowers and the garden, and Tilden was his consistent second lieutenant. They would be real and they would be perfect. Sheldon might never admit it, but he loved the flowers also. He was such a sap, but he could still remember sitting out there drinking lemonade with Milton sitting so close that their knees were touching. Milton had been all his then. God, he wasn’t going there. He’d accepted that Master had five of them. It wasn’t even all that bad. Sheldon had wanted Austin, his puppy fling Milton had called it. The other three… No, he didn’t go there. He loved them; only he wished that sometimes the earth would open up and swallow them. God, he was a selfish bastard.

Sheldon crossed the porch, trying to chase his dark thoughts away with the weak spring sun. He needed Master. He needed a reminder that life being this hard was worth it.

“Austin.” Sheldon put his hands on the stiff shoulders and kissed the back of the cub’s neck. “He’ll be here soon.”

“Don’t I know. More fun to look forward to.”

“Hey.”

“He’s going to cane me.” Austin turned around; all his youth and anguish clear on his face.

Sheldon brushed a stray piece of unruly hair off Austin’s forehead and traced his thumb down Austin’s cheek. “And you want it and are scared shitless at the same time. I know, kiddo.”

“You do it so easily.”

“Austin,” Sheldon said, letting his exasperation bleed into his voice. “I’ve got some years on you, and you’re being willfully blind and you know it. I fuck up too.”

“You’re not scared. Mike is never scared.”

“Mike is psychotic, so leave him out of this conversation.” Sheldon smoothed the dirt in the pot and pinched off the spent bloom. He needed to talk, and he wished he could just run and hide. “I’m scared,” he stumbled over the words, unable to look up, unable to smile and bounce, and reassure Austin. “I’m scared how much I need him. I always am. You know he’s not really going to hurt you.”

“It will hurt.”

“And it’ll be a good hurt. You’re scared one day he’ll decide it’s too much, that he’s not going to bother anymore. And you test and demand and push. I made him put this around my neck.” Sheldon grabbed the oiled leather of his collar. “I’d crawl on my belly and lick his boots, and I hate that shtick.”

“You don’t—“

“He knows I hate it, and he protects me from myself. He’d never ask.”

“I hate being caned.”

“No, you don’t,” Sheldon said, hearing his own voice take on a firmness and a passion. “You’re not my brother or whack job Mike, but you want him in charge in very tangible ways. You wanted his attention, all of it, and you’ll get it. You also wanted Joe off your shoulders, and he’ll bend over backwards to fix the world for his precious cub, and you know it.” Sheldon looped his arm around Austin and pulled him close. “I figure you’re on about the same time frame as I was. It will take you about a decade to think of asking before going for the dramatic, and then you’ll still go for the dramatic sometimes.”

“You never—“

“I was this close to decking Mike this morning.” Sheldon held his thumb and finger together. “I wanted to. I even sort of wanted the results of it, and Master would have been angry, furious, volcanic, but his attention would have been all on me, and when he’s gone for an hour or a day I want that attention.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Sheldon touched his lips to Austin’s forehead. “Because I love you. Because I love Milton so much that it makes my chest hurt to think about it. He can be a bastard, but he owns me. I gave him myself, and my desires are subject to his will. Mike’s off limits.”

“You hate Mike.”

“No.” Sheldon shook his head. “I don’t hate him. We just get on each other’s nerves.”

“It didn’t seem different to me but for you…”

“It’s been years. I’ve made my peace.”

“Sheldon.” Austin entwined his fingers in Sheldon’s. “I—“

“Shh. I really am OK with it. I sometimes just regress into stupidity. Don’t mind me. It’s just my dumb ass blabbering.”

“Stop it!”

“Austin.” Sheldon stared into the determination on Austin’s face. He no longer looked like the sweet baby of Sheldon’s dreams, but a determined man who wanted something.

“Milton doesn’t let you talk like that. Don’t do it when he’s not here.”

“Sorry,” Sheldon murmured.

“I won’t tell him,” Austin said, his face morphing back into the sweet and angelic boy.

“I’ll tell him. Perfect slave boy has to fess up to his sins,” Sheldon said with a forced grin.

“You don’t have to.”

“Actually, I do. Austin,” Sheldon said in a soft, gentle voice, “you know how I live with Milton. I’ve given him total control. If I withhold from him, it can get ugly, not angry dominant with rightful punishment, but real life ugly. I won’t do that.”

“What will he do to you?”

“Talk,” Sheldon said, making a face, “and talk some more. Sometimes it’s hell being all grown up, and if I don’t talk he might send me to Ryan for forced lessons in cheerfulness, and that might be worse.”

“I thought you liked Ryan.”

“I do, and he’s perfect for my brother, but sometimes that man drives me wild. He’s too cheerful by half. No one should be that big and bounce around with a silly grin like a demented child’s toy. He also does the hovering thing to the point I want to strangle him with his own smile. Sometimes I like to grump and pout in peace, and dearest Ryan thinks the smallest frown is reason to call 911. I’m not a leprechaun who’s always ecstatic about finding the pot of gold. That’s Blade, skip through the world with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.”

“Ryan’s always nice to me, but I think he worries about my age.” Austin sucked in his lower lip and chewed on its edge.

“He teaches kids the age you were when you ended up in our bed. It makes him nervous. It makes all sane people nervous. You know that, and you also know he’d have had the cops on our doorstep if he thought Milton had coerced you or corrupted you.”

“He didn’t.”

“We know that, sweetheart. If anyone was doing any coercing or corrupting back then it was you. I was lost the minute you unleashed that tirade of bratting.”

“I was kind of awful back then.”

Sheldon pulled Austin down onto the steps and dropped an arm over his shoulders. “You were very young back then, not that you didn’t think you were all grown up, and you wanted something very badly and no one would listen to you. You know it was Gordon that got it done. You should send him a bouquet of flowers every year on your anniversary.”

“He’s a grouch stuck in the last century.”

“He also loves Milton and is a damn good dom even in his dotage. He knew I’d fallen for you, and he knew what would happen if you did something entirely too stupid for words.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

Sheldon shrugged. It was ancient history; he’d let it lie. He didn’t even want to imagine a teenager as submissive as Austin without an anchor. He’d lived through it, and he’d had family around him.

“We preferred not to worry. We loved you too much.”

Austin blushed a delightful shade of red which made Sheldon want to do nothing more than drag Austin to bed, but he restrained himself to a peck on the cheek. “Ah, yeah, we were smitten. Now back to work or this slave boy will be in trouble for not properly supervising our naughty cub.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Not now. I do get you, Austin. Stop worrying; Milton will be decent. I gave him a decade of practice.” Sheldon kissed Austin’s forehead again. “I’ll tell Milton about my dreams of murdering Mike. Don’t worry your pretty little head, and I’ll deal with the fallout with Joe. I’m actually pretty good with scared to death in denial submissives.”

“You’ve had practice.”

“Not with you. You were never in denial. You knew the first time Milton stared at me and growled.”

“And he kept telling me I was too young.”

“And you insisted otherwise, brat, so no reason to complain. Now back to the flowers. I’ll rescue Joe from the mountain of laundry folding. Do you have to wear three shirts in one day?”

“Of course, I don’t have to wash them.”

Sheldon laughed and smacked Austin’s thigh. “Just you see. You owe me for last night. I see some laundry in your future.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I so would. See who you make worry next time.” Sheldon pulled Austin to his feet and pointed him at the half filled planter. “Garden. Next week you’ll be slaving over a hot iron.”

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