Green Pastures 2

Green Pastures 2

Sheldon heard the car before he saw it. He’d been listening and with the doors and windows thrown open to spring, the sound of the ancient station wagon was distinct. Austin had threatened to crash that embarrassment of a car several times, but none of them would dare hurt Milton’s precious baby. They had plenty of other cars that didn’t look like they’d just driven out of a retro TV show, but Milton clung to the fake wood siding and the fashion statement of the seventies.

The car came to a halt with its distinct rattling knock which no one could fix, but also refused to put the car out of its misery. Milton climbed out, not bothering to reach behind him for his suitcase or briefcase. Sheldon would get those later; it was a given in this household. Milton caught Austin as he barreled down the porch steps and threw himself at his dominant.

Sheldon didn’t have to be close enough to hear the words to know that Milton was offering reassurance. Sheldon knew the litany and the comfort of those arms. He’d known from the very start when Milton had lambasted him for plagiarizing a paper, yet dragged him off for lunch and trundled him back to his student digs. He’d know again when Milton pulled a full knight in shining armor rescue and saved Sheldon from giving his ass to those slobbering fools. Milton would cane his precious cub, but Austin was in the comforting shadow of his dominant. Nothing awful was possible in the circle of Milton’s arms.

“Was he lost in the Andes or something?”

Joe, Sheldon had almost forgotten him.

“Austin missed him.”

“He’s old enough that I’d be afraid he could die tomorrow. Austin could have done better.”

“No,” Sheldon said, reining in his temper with a supreme effort.

“He’s yours too?” Joe asked, his voice raising in surprise. “This is more fucked up than I thought.” Joe raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

“Master belongs to all of us.”

“Master?” A nasty grin split Joe’s face. “I thought belonging went the other way in those sort of relationships.”

“It goes both ways, my ignorant little submissive.”

“Me?” Joe laughed, pointing at himself. “You have to be kidding. I don’t do this shit.”

“Really,” Sheldon said, letting the sarcasm bleed into his voice. “And who was trying to sell himself for the weekend? Who came home with Austin like a meek little lamb? Who did I hear say sir to Josh?”

“He’s older. I was raised to be polite.”

Sheldon snorted. “You’re submissive, but if you want to deny it that’s your business, just don’t bash us for it. You can spend your life hiding from yourself. I’m cool with it, but you give Austin one nasty look or one snide comment, and I will find you.”

“Ah, scary. I’m shaking in my boots.”

“I don’t need to do scary,” Sheldon said with vicious calm. “I have several dominants at my beck and call to do scary. Your ass will be grass, boy.”

“Right. Whatever.” Joe turned back toward the porch where Milton had dropped his hands over Austin’s shoulders and was guiding him inside.

“You must be Joe.” Milton’s voice filled the hallway and spilled back toward the kitchen. “Welcome to our home. I have some personal business to attend to for a few minutes. Sheldon, lay out some cold lunch. The airlines long ago gave up feeding anyone and breakfast was hours ago.”

“Yes, Master.”

Milton’s eyes fell on Sheldon, and Sheldon knew that Master had picked up on his little spat with Joe. His eyes said both later and behave. Sheldon dropped his eyes, acknowledging the silent message, but trying to hide the exchange from Joe.

“We don’t hide in our home.”

“Master.”

Milton lifted a hand from Austin’s shoulder and clicked his fingers. Sheldon gave him one long pleading look and took the three steps toward Milton. He clasped his hands behind him and presented himself to his master. He should go to his knees, but they had a stranger in the house.

Milton’s hand caught Sheldon’s chin and lifted his eyes. “Boy, I’ve known you too long. Don’t do anything rash and don’t make me regret that I’m not forcing the issue. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good boy.” Milton stroked Sheldon’s cheek and bent and kissed the top of his head. “Sheldon, I love you. We’ll talk. I missed you.”

“Me too.”

“I know. Kitchen now and take Joe with you. Come, Austin.”

Sheldon watched Milton push Austin up the stairs. For a moment irrationally and stupidly, he wished he was in Austin’s place. He would have the master all to himself and didn’t have Joe and everything else swirling in his head.

“You heard the man, kitchen,” Sheldon said, turning from the stairs and his melancholy thoughts. “Move.”

“Jesus, you could try please.”

“Joe, just go into the kitchen. I’m not in the mood for this at the moment. Please.”

“I’m going. Chill, man.”

“Thanks.”

Sheldon jerked open the doors of the big stainless steel refrigerator and searched the shelves for something easy and edible. Pickles, sliced meats and cheeses, homemade bread, and several types of mustard. That would do.

Joe was hovering in the background looking both peevish and sheepish, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his baggy pants. The kid would be handsome if he’d stand up straight and had something besides a scowl on his face. He was a head taller than Sheldon with the start of a dark beard on his face or maybe a fashionable three-day-old shadow.

“Chips are in the pantry and wash an apple from over there.” Sheldon pointed at the fruit bowl on the counter.

“He always order you around like that?” Joe said, shuffling toward the pantry.

“You mean Milton? Yes.” Sheldon lifted his chin so his collar was more visible. “I’m sure you didn’t miss this.”

“It could be jewelry?”

“Nope,” Sheldon said with a shake of his head. “I do what he says. Slavery usually works that way.”

“Whoa.” Joe held up his hands, the chip bag acting as a make shift shield. “You dudes are crazy. Austin doesn’t do this? I know him. He couldn’t hide that.”

“One thing at a time,” Sheldon said, reaching for a plate. “You’ve couch surfed yourself into our little asylum—six of us, eight if you count Trent and Mace.”

“The guys cooking?”

“Yeah.”

“They…” Joe trailed off.

“Apple, wash it.” Sheldon pointed with his knife. “They just live here, but the others, we all belong to Milton in some fashion or another.”

“Polyamory. Six. Are you guys nuts?”

“Undoubtedly.” Sheldon spread slices of Vermont cheddar on the plate.

“God, it must be complicated.” Joe was talking faster, and he waved his hands as he spoke. “Are you all slaves? Austin doesn’t have a collar. I know I would’ve seen it.”

“I’m the only slave, but except Milton, we’re all submissives. What do you know about submissives?”

“Stuff on the internet.”

“Real, not fantasy.”

“Not much.”

“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? Self-identified that way?”

“No way, dude.” Joe slapped the apple down on the table. “I don’t do this kinky shit.”

“Deep breath.” Sheldon gave Joe a small smile. “Don’t hyperventilate on me. Master won’t be happy if you pass out and concuss yourself on the floor or table.”

“Not planning to.”

“It gets worse from here.”

The sounds were right on time. Austin was a vocal boy, and the half choked scream spread down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sheldon had heard the sound of the cane also, but he knew the sound. To the uninitiated that sound might have faded into the background.

“What the fuck? What’s he doing to him?” Joe looked toward the hall, his whole body stiffening as the second shout came, louder this time and followed by the sounds of crying.

“Settle down.” Sheldon pulled out a chair. “Sit and wait.”

“No! He’s hurting him.”

“And it’s entirely consensual; agreed upon; signed, sealed and delivered. Austin doesn’t want you barging in.”

“He’s beating on him.”

“The dominant is punishing his submissive. It is his right.”

“By brutalizing him?”

“By caning him. Do you know what that is?”

Joe shrugged, his attention upstairs and to the less than muffled noise.

“The British use to do it to their school boys, so it’s not going to kill Austin. He’ll have some pretty stripes, and he’ll show you later if you ask nicely. He won’t be super keen on sitting for a few hours, but he’ll live, and he’ll be glued to Milton’s side. He’ll be a hell of a lot more upset that Milton will ground his ass and remind him of his privileges. A lifestyle submissive obeys his dominant or there is hell to pay. Austin knows that and knew where this was going to end.” Sheldon stopped and gave Joe a long look. “How much pressure did you put on him to show up last night?”

“I didn’t. That’s not my fault. That’s the psychotic moose upstairs with the cane or whatever you call it.”

“That psychotic moose, as you put it, is going to give you a roof over your head and food in your stomach as well as talk rationally to you about all this that you want and are too chicken shit to admit, so watch yourself. Austin worrying about you is the best damn thing that ever happened to you, so don’t you dare give him shit about what you’re hearing. The kid’s partially taking this for you. He’s a softy, and he knows a fucked-up submissive when he sees one. He’ll be nicer than I will be. I’ll make your life hell if you give us any trouble. Don’t doubt it, boy. I have years of practice. Keep your mouth shut, show up at meals, and be sweet, polite, and helpful, and we’ll get on great. Even insinuate that Austin is in the wrong or hanging with an abuser, and I will make sure you end up under someone’s roof who is a hell of a lot less tolerant than Milton. I know the right people, and some aren’t as careful about meticulous consent. Are you reading me?”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“That’s fine. Are you going to be a good boy? No trouble? Sweet and biddable, and a true friend to Austin? He’s shown you true friendship. He’s letting you see this. Think about it, boy. Think about it real hard.”

“God.” Joe raked his fingers through his hair. “At least that’s stopped.”

“Probably only six, but did you hear me. Do we have a deal? Austin’s depending on it.”

“OK,” Joe huffed. “I’ll pretend getting the shit beaten out of you is normal, but, dude, if he touches me all bets are off. I don’t do this.”

“Don’t worry he won’t, but you’ll also wish he did.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Bet?” Sheldon held out his hand. “One month and you’ll be asking him to train you as a submissive.”

“What’s the wager?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“I’m in. Easiest money I’ve ever made.”

“You’ll see. Cut the apple. They’ll be down, and he’ll want finger food.”

Sheldon knew his master too well or he’d developed a new skill in fortune telling. Milton came down the stairs a few minutes later with his arm tightly wrapped around Austin who still had reddened eyes and the look of near tears, but was calm without the manic tension of earlier. They were a handsome couple, Austin’s tousled hair that looked artfully windblown nestled into Milton’s broad chest, Milton’s strong face and deep brown eyes.

Austin hovered near the table as Milton took a seat and reached for his plate.

“Kneel, boy.”

Austin shot a glance toward Joe.

“I’m sure he heard,” Milton said with easy calm, “and Sheldon’s collar is well visible. He hasn’t run out the door, so kneeling isn’t going to shock him, and I know you don’t want to sit.”

“Sir, can I…”

“Boy, what do you want?”

“Can I sit with you?”

Milton smiled and pushed his chair from the table. “Come here.”

“Thank you,” Austin whispered as he settled on Milton’s thigh.

Sheldon almost whimpered as he watched Austin. He wasn’t envious, well, not exactly. He’d wanted Austin and Milton together. They were beautiful together, and Austin kept Milton young. Still Sheldon couldn’t help but wish he was against Milton’s chest, that those arms were around him, that someone was looking at him with such a perceptive eye.

“Sheldon.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, Master.”

“Not beyond wanting to throttle Mike or finding our unexpected house guest irritating?”

“No, Master.” Sheldon was getting dangerously close to lying. He could name several things wrong, and he was avoiding all of them.

“Come here.” Milton beckoned with his finger. His brown eyes searched Sheldon’s face as Sheldon stood against his right thigh. “Truth?”

Sheldon squirmed in Milton’s scrutiny and cast his gaze downward. He was beyond truth, not one hundred percent false, but beyond Master’s tolerance.

“I thought not. We will talk later.”

It was both a promise and a threat, and Sheldon felt only relief. Master would deal with it. Sheldon only needed to obey. Oh, God, Sheldon shot a glance at Joe. He’d made that stupid bet. Master would deal with that, and it wouldn’t be pretty, or lovely, or sympathetic.

“Master—“

“Shh, boy. One crisis at a time.” Milton half smiled, a twisting of his lips behind his grey spotted beard. His eyes twinkled with the warmth and friendliness that escaped so many observers. He bent, kissed Austin’s head, and whispered something in his cub’s ear. Austin nodded and slid off Milton’s lap, his smile real, his wave almost jaunty.

Sheldon watched Austin. He hadn’t meant to chase him away. Austin looked OK, relaxed, content, but he’d just been caned. “I—“

“All in due time, Sheldon and don’t you dare worry about Austin. He had his bit of comfort, and now he wants some privacy. He’ll be back in a bit and curl up with you.”

“I know but—“

“Yes, boy, I’ve lived with you for a long time,” Milton said, his expression still half saintly, still half too knowing.  I expected a little surprise of the not ideal sort. Now spill it.”

“How? I haven’t—“

“Boy, you’re stressed, and when you’re stressed, well, let’s say odd coincidences happen.” Milton reached out and ruffled Sheldon’s hair. “How could I miss it? I might be a little slow on the uptake, but I’m not a corpse yet.”

“Shit!” Sheldon muttered under his breath.

“The house is still standing. I’m not wearing my lunch, so it’s a good day so far.”

“Master, I don’t—“

Milton snorted, interrupting Sheldon’s attempt at denial. “You don’t dump food over my head? I don’t have dementia yet, my boy. My memory is still very strong of strange stains on my shirts.”

“I was young.”

Milton caught Sheldon’s wrist and pulled him close. “We were both young. It takes two for that dance.” Milton brushed his lips over Sheldon’s forehead. “I think we’ve just about terrified Joe enough, so be a good boy and leave the food off my shirt.”

“He thinks we’re crazy.” Sheldon turned his head to look at Joe who was standing against the refrigerator watching them with a mixture of longing and distrust. Seeing Sheldon watching, Joe’s expression hardened.

“I don’t think he’s crazy; I think he’s an abusive bastard. I heard it. You were beating on Austin.”

“I was,” Milton said with absolute calm. “And I have permission for every blow. I am the dominant in the family, and you will respect that as long as you’re under our roof.”

“I’m not staying under your roof, not with a psychopath.”

“Do you have somewhere to go? I understand you’ve exhausted the welcome of all your friends and acquaintances. You have room and board here as long as you need it. We don’t put people on the street.”

“No, you just beat the shit out of them. You’re not touching me.”

“I’m not planning to. You are a guest, not one of my submissives or a submissive who has requested training. I have no right or permission to touch you.” Milton’s gaze never left Joe’s face, trapping him as effectively as any snare. “I ask only that you behave with common courtesy and do not harass or berate your hosts. We will have words if you hassle or berate Austin for his choices. He is mine to protect, and I will protect him. The rest, without ties of affection toward you, can and will protect themselves, but you will face double jeopardy. I protect all that is mine even if they have their own claws and teeth. Do we understand each other?”

“I have to sit here and take your crap and pretend this is all cool. Is that what you’re asking, old man?”

“You missed the polite part of the request, but yes, that’s the essence of it.”

“Sorry, politely sit here and pretend this is all normal, sir.”

“That is correct, but be aware of the use of that tone of voice and sir around dominants. I am very experienced, but not every dominant you meet will be as tolerant or as cautious as I am. Baiting can be taken as permission by some. Austin or Sheldon can explain it. They are not shy. Austin likes you and he’s a damn good friend. Don’t abuse him. Right now he’s being a far better friend than you are. Think about it, Joe. Austin knew exactly where this was going to end, and he doesn’t like the cane or me disappointed in him. He gave you something. He showed you the very essence of his submission, giving to others. Don’t spit in his face. It’s unkind and unworthy of anyone who calls himself Austin’s friend.”

“Fine.” Joe shoved his hands in his pockets and turned toward the door. “Do I need your permission to go outside?”

“No, but you’re baiting, boy. Be careful about what you catch on that hook.”

Joe spun around. “You touch me, and I’ll call the fucking police and report you for assault.”

“Fair enough since I would consider it assault also.” Milton paused and continued when Joe didn’t move. “Any of us will talk about it all you want when you’re ready. Now go on. It’s warm and sunny today. Go calm yourself and enjoy the day. Dinner is a 6:30, and you’ll go hungry if you’re not here. It’s Sunday, so a tie tonight. I’m an old geezer that way. Ask Austin for something if you’re entire wardrobe looks like that.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very.” Milton made a shooing motion with his hands. “Now go get some fresh air. It might sweeten your disposition.”

Sheldon watch Joe swallow and nod. He was such a submissive; the boy might as well have a sign around his neck—submissive, wee lost little boy. No wonder Austin had felt compelled to drop himself into the middle of the kid’s life. Austin was a happy smiley boy, but he’d been that lost little sheep and still recent enough that he’d known exactly what Joe was feeling. Austin had it all now, or at least those were Austin’s words. He was a kind guy; he would want to share the wealth.

Sheldon almost choked on his own spit as he thought of sharing the wealth. He’d been compelled to share. Shit! He was being an ass again. He’d never throw Tilden out; Tilden had been there before him: steady, comforting, supporting, always silent that Sheldon had what he wanted for himself, never jealous. Tilden had always been there with a kind word or a gentle arm over the shoulder, Tilden, the damn submissive, who had pretended for so long to be the soft and gentle dominant, the counterweight to Milton’s unrelenting demands, and all he’d wanted was to sink under those demands. Sheldon wasn’t blind; he saw the way Tilden soaked up Milton’s affection. They’d always talked long into the night together, sharing their academic interests, Milton pretending to be incompetent in Russian when Sheldon knew he read it almost as well as Tilden. Milton’s accent made Luke and Tilden grimace, so that part was real, but he’d never really needed help with the primary source material. That was a ruse, one that Milton himself might not recognize as a ruse to be with Tilden.

Milton hadn’t tried to stray. Sheldon believed him; he believed him fervently. He’d just always loved Tilden, and the dam had finally burst. Sheldon could see that now. He could still see as vivid as if it were only hours ago the guilt that had painted Milton’s face. He hadn’t meant to let the lion out of the cage, but he’d escaped. Sheldon accepted that. He accepted that the only way to make it right was to let Tilden in. Sheldon couldn’t send Tilden away. He wasn’t that selfish, and the meal already eaten couldn’t be regurgitated back to a placid beast grazing on the savannah. Sheldon got that.

“Hey.” Milton’s hand landed on Sheldon’s shoulder, heavy and comforting. “Where are you?”

“Thinking, Master.”

“Worrying, more like it. So what scheme have you gotten yourself into?” Milton’s smile was gentle, relaxed.

“Nothing.”

Milton raised his eyebrow and gave Sheldon a long look. “Boy.”

“I bet your money,” Sheldon blurted out. Where had that come from? He had entered into that stupid bet. He had been going to tell Milton, but not at this very instant.

Milton tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a minute, as if studying the chandelier that had hung there for as long as Sheldon had lived here. “With Joe I assume?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And the details.” Milton’s voice suggested someone who was long suffering.

“That he’d be begging for you to thrash him within a month. He was being an ass about you and Austin, calling you an abusive old man.”

“Sheldon.” Milton leaned forward and hooked his arm around Sheldon. “Any half sane person is going to think the same thing. I’m old enough to be Austin’s father, and he was screaming his head off. It had to sound like I was murdering him.”

“You wouldn’t hurt him.”

“You know me. You trust me. I’m a complete stranger to Joe, and the kid is desperately trying to bury his true nature. Of course he’s going to be shouting obscenities about me. This is not new for you, Sheldon. You know better.”

“Yes, Master,” Sheldon said, hiding his face and blinking back unwelcome tears.

“What else?” Milton’s voice had softened. His hand swept under Sheldon’s chin, and he studied his boy’s face. He made a clicking sound with his tongue, stood up[, and held out his hand. “Come on. I know that expression.” He shook his head and gave Sheldon a half smile. “Someday before I am in my grave, you will ask me instead of burying yourself in trouble.”

“I—“

“Boy, we’ll do this after your ass is cherry red. We’ll both talk a lot more sensibly. Upstairs now.” Milton stood and took Sheldon with him, his hand tight in Sheldon’s, his knowledge absolute that Sheldon would follow him.

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