Green Pastures 6

Green Pastures 6

Milton tried the kitchen first, but it was empty. Sheldon had taken Austin and gone to Josh’s with a bright smile and a declaration that he’d promised to help Josh put a new fence in the garden, and since it was Saturday and not raining today was the day. Austin had given him an exasperated look that said he’d never heard such a promise and that it was being spun out of thin air. Austin gave Josh a wide berth on principle. Luke had vanished early this morning after a brief conversation with Tilden. He’d be at his office; that’s where he always hid when avoiding Milton.

Tilden was in the living room, sprawled on the sofa with his head pillowed by his own arm. His eyes were on the television where he was watching a cartoon with a green crocodile and a strange fuzzy creature. Stressed, he retreated into these Russian language cartoons. 

“Did you eat?”

“Ya smotryu televizor.”

“You’re lucky I’m not Gordon.”  Milton sat down on the arm of the sofa and ran his fingers through Tilden’s hair. “Lunch?”

Tilden said nothing, his eyes still on the television.

“Are you testing my care taking ability?” Milton asked, keeping his voice light. “I know where the toast went with Ryan.”

“He’s an ass.”

“He doesn’t much care for your flavor of submission.”

“It’s not his business.”

“Then work on not provoking him.”

“I don’t”

Milton rolled his eyes and barked a bolt of laughter. “Safewording over toast and you’re not provoking him.”

“I was proving I was a capable and competent submissive. I didn’t want toast.”

“What do you want because I don’t do food games with my submissives? You didn’t have dinner either.”

“You were too busy beating me.”

A stab of guilt followed by a chaser of anger went through Milton. “It takes two to tango,” Milton said and stood up. He held out his hand. “I’m having lunch.”

Tilden glared at him, but took the outstretched hand with a theatrical sigh. He muttered something about martyrdom in Russian.

“I’m sure Ryan has an effective cure for your martyr complex.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Milton searched the refrigerator shelves, not answering. Tilden wasn’t a submissive he’d share in any fashion, especially with Ryan, but there were mature and adult ways to prevent Milton from taking such action. Tilden needed to use those tools, not assume that Milton would play by Tilden’s whims.

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

Milton set several bowls on the counter as well as a bag of dill. Both Luke and Tilden had developed the Russian habit of eating everything with dill. Milton didn’t hate the delicate fronds, but not for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Austin detested dill. One slim green stalk and he’d go on a hunger strike.

“You know both Austin and Sheldon will fall under Ryan’s care if something happens to me or they need something and I’m not available,” Milton said, making egg salad sandwiches.

“I’m more than capable of managing on my own.”

“I agree, but do you want to?”

“Never with Ryan.”

“It should be in our contract. Anything you feel that strongly about should be in writing.”

“I hate that part.” 

“Tilden, did you just whine at me? I’ll mark the calendar.” Milton grasped Tilden’s shoulders and studied the rising crimson on his neck. He kissed the flushed cheek. “You’re beautiful when you’re blushing.” He wrapped his hand around the back of Tilden’s neck and drew his head down. “I’ll be all adult and proper if you’ll eat your lunch like a good boy. Otherwise I have all sorts of ways to torture you.”

“Milton!” Tilden snatched his sandwich and took a bite.

“Shoot. I don’t get to try my choo choo train noises.”

“I am going to kill you,” Tilden mumbled around the egg salad, a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Or I could send you to a restaurant with Sheldon with secret instructions to make a terrible scene. He can be very creative if you recall.”

“I’m eating. I’m eating,” Tilden said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Good boy.” Milton took a bite out of his own sandwich. He left his plate on the counter, no use drawing attention to the fact that Tilden held his breath every time a hard surface approached his butt.

“Luke’s upset,” Tilden said after finishing half his sandwich.

“I figured. He ran away to his office.”

Tilden nodded and reached for the jar of pickles. “This is hard for him.”

“Harder than for you?” Milton stretched out his arm and brushed a stray hair from Tilden’s forehead. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time. Luke, well…”

“I know, Tilden. He came with you. He loves you. I see that, but I’m here. I’m the dominant. I don’t know if he means to, but I often feel that he’s giving you an ultimatum, forcing you to choose between him and me. I’m going to stop that.”

“He doesn’t mean to. You’re just…”

“I’m a real and genuine dominant, not his gentle fantasy man who appears when he wants a strong shoulder and disappears with a wave of his hand. Tilden, I’ve told him he doesn’t have to be my submissive. There are no rule books for a harem. He can have a relationship with you, but treat me as a friend and your eccentric housemate. I’ve told him that in one way or another a dozen times, but he is submissive. He can’t escape it, not when he’s brushing up against me every day. He wants it, but not on my terms. I’m not going to put thumb screws on his testicles, but he can’t have the support I offer my submissives without offering me something in exchange. I’m not a windup doll that he can take the batteries out of when he gets tired of my orders. If he doesn’t show up soon, I am going to go to his office, take his key, and drag him home. He’s not behind. He doesn’t need to be hiding behind imaginary work on Saturday. He has family. He needs to start acting like he knows that.”

“He’s unsure.”

“Tilden, how else do I make it clearer? Do I hire a plane to drag a sign across the sky?”

“He thinks he can’t be a proper submissive to you.”

“What is a proper submissive? I don’t think I have one of those.”

“What you want…What you use…”

“Tilden, spit it out.”

“He…”

“He wants a dominant who never does anything he doesn’t like. That’s not submission. That’s using me, and I’m not playing that game.” Milton pushed his plate aside. “I am going to make very sure that boy knows he belongs and where he fits in this family. He does not interfere with what is mine nor should he have any question that this is his family. He may be thoroughly sick of the fact that this is his family when I’m done with him, but he will have no doubts.”

Tilden’s hand spread across Milton’s on the counter, his fingers the touch of a butterfly on a flower. He didn’t speak, but Milton knew the message: be gentle. It was the same message that Tilden delivered when Milton was locked in battle with the administration or frustrated beyond all proportion with today’s helicopter parents. Don’t turn Luke into a pile of scorched ash.

“I’ve given him space. I’m taking that away. I won’t brutalize him.”

Tilden raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking with Milton’s for a moment before dropping to the counter.

“I won’t, Tilden, but I won’t say that Luke will agree with me. I won’t chase him off.”

“You didn’t chase Mike off,” Tilden said, voicing Milton’s silent and irrational fear. “Mike chose.”

“I know.” Milton ran a hand over his bead. “But it still feels like failure to lose one.”

“He couldn’t share with Sheldon.”

Milton gave Tilden a long look. Tilden pretended to he half ignorant of the dynamic, and he’d seen right off what had taken Milton so long.

“He needed to be the only one. That wasn’t an option. You love Sheldon in the ways of the soul, ways you were never going to love Mike.” Tilden shook his head. “He might be chasing a unicorn, but he needs to try. You understand it also when you’re not being swept out to sea by your emotions.”

“I loved Mike.”

“Yes, the way you love anyone who gets close, the way you love Luke with fondness and a generosity of spirit, an admiration of his good qualities. It’s not the way you love Sheldon or even Austin.”

“Or the way I love you.”

Tilden flushed, a faint pink on his cheeks and dropped his eyes to the crumbs of his sandwich. “We’ve been together a long time.”

“It’s more than that.” Milton wrapped his arm around Tilden’s waist and drew him close. His lips nipped along Tilden’s neck. “Sheldon as a young man and Austin now speak to a part of me. I’m projecting the racist, misogynist, cultural elitist burden to civilize them. They are territories where my flag flies high and proud. At the most stark, they are an ego trip. You were always different. You have always been a friend and confident in ways that are unique to you and us. I’m not civilizing you. I’m not projecting my own manifest destiny to conquer all.”

“They are more than that,” Tilden said sharply. He spun out of Milton’s arm and turned and faced him with his hands resting on his hips. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Yesterday you called me a pedophile.”

“I was angry. It wasn’t true.”

“Tilden there is a power trip with them. I can’t pretend there isn’t.”

“For you and them. It’s not one way. I see the thrill they get when they surrender. I wish…I’m jealous. It’s so easy for them.”

“Your submission isn’t less or cheaper. It’s different. They became mine at a very different place in their lives.”

“I’m a coward.”

“No, you are a very different man. I was the coward. I couldn’t organize how to be a dominant to a man I saw as an equal. Gordon has done it every day for decades, and it was Landon who practically had to threaten to whip my balls to get me off my ass.”

“Don’t be crude.”

“The babes aren’t here.”

“Milton, you are better than that.”

“Yes, Tilden.” Milton swallowed the sir at the last minute. This was his submissive, but the tone had been a gentle and righteous demand. Milton raked his fingers through his graying curls. “I need to go deal with Luke.”

“Are you in the right headspace?”

Milton knew his look was questioning. Tilden never spoke openly of their relationship, not in those terms. Given an option, Tilden wouldn’t speak of it at all.

“My backside is a very painful reminder. It’s sort of hard to pretend I’m not a participant when a chair looks like a torture device. Are you where you need to be to deal with Luke?”

“Tilden, I know how much you love him. He’s many things I can never be. Gentle. Sweet. A kindred soul. I’m sharp edged, all elbows and big feet.”

“You might place a well deserved kick sometimes,” Tilden said with a wry smile, “but you shelter us all under your broad back. I love Luke, but he’s not you and can never be you. My choice would always be you.” 

“I want you to have both.”

“To both have and eat my cake.”

“Why not? You deserve it.”