Meet Your Mate 13

Chapter 13

Luke stared at the questions on the blackboard. “Choose two out of three of the following topics to write a short essay. For maximum credit, please use specific examples.” Luke ran his hand through his blond curls. He couldn’t write about one of the topics, let alone two. “Describe the changing role of the Catholic church in Europe. Explain the role of sea power in the formation of the great powers. Compare and contrast the political and social differences between Europe and Asia in the areas of interface. Special attention should be paid to Russia and Turkey.” Great. The only turkey Luke knew anything about was the cooked bird that appeared on the Thanksgiving table every November, and somehow he didn’t think that was what Milton was talking about. Luke suspected calling the Butterball hotline wouldn’t help with the question.

Luke reread the questions for the third time, not that it was helping. He sketched a turkey on the side of his bluebook, pleading for mercy before an ax wielding pilgrim.

Cartoons decorating the border of his bluebook were not helping Luke come up with an answer. Milton had told Luke to start with an outline, but he’d assumed that Luke would have at least a few ideas. Luke looked around the room. The other students seemed to have the answer; even Mike was madly scribbling. In desperation, Luke wrote the first question in his bluebook; at least it looked like he was writing something. He drew a small church under the question; the drawing blossomed into a cathedral with stained glass windows and crowds of people rushing into the courtyard staring wondrously at the bells on top of the intricate spires. 

Luke twisted around behind him to watch the minute hand of the clock strike the next number. Twenty minutes gone and still not a single word on the topic. Luke absently flipped his pen, catching it after each revolution. He couldn’t hand in a blank test booklet. Luke shut his eyes, remembering breakfast this morning. Trent had stayed and cooked, so they wouldn’t have to eat Tilden’s lumpy oatmeal. Trent had made excuses that business was slow during exam week so there was no need to rush into work. Luke knew that Trent had cooked as a gesture of sympathy with the test takers. More surprising, Milton had left two bluebooks at Luke’s and Mike’s place with a sweet note wishing them luck and teasing them about neglecting to buy bluebooks ahead of time. After Milton’s sweet card, Luke couldn’t face handing in a blank paper.

Luke missed his pen, and it clattered to the floor. He bent down to pick it up, chasing the pen under his backpack and coat. As his hand brushed under his coat, he felt the folded notes in his pocket. Luke glanced up; Milton was engrossed in grading previous exams. Luke unzipped his coat pocket, closed his hand around the papers, picked up the pen, and brought both back to his desk. Luke peeked at Milton again who was still engrossed in grading, seemingly oblivious to the students in front of him. Luke quickly unfolded his papers and slid them into the second bluebook. His eyes scanned down the page until he came to his notes on the Catholic church. Luke started transcribing the notes into an outline; he didn’t see Milton get up until his professor was standing directly behind Luke.

Milton reached down and flipped through the bluebook. The crumpled notes slid from their camouflage. Without a word, Milton picked up both bluebooks and the notes and walked back to the front of the room.

Luke froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights when Milton collected the notes and bluebooks. There was no denying he was cheating. He didn’t need to have signed the college honor code to know that he’d been cheating. It couldn’t be argued that this was a case of accidentally copying a few lines from a text or forgetting a citation; this was black and white cheating in anyone’s book. 

Luke blinked, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to cascade down his cheeks.  He hazarded a glance at Milton who was again absorbed in a test booklet. A test booklet no doubt from an honest student, not a lying, worthless cheat, Luke thought, no longer able to contain the tears. He buried his face in his arms and let the wetness soak into the coarse wool of his sweater. He’d ruined it; there was no way a distinguished college professor would want a cheater for a partner. Luke cried harder, his shoulders shaking. He tried to stifle the noise, letting silent rivers of tears stream down his cheeks.

Luke felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a silent signal to get up. Milton’s expression was calm; Luke couldn’t describe it as friendly, but it wasn’t fearsome. Milton placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pushed him toward the door. As soon as they cleared the classroom and were tucked into a quiet corner in the hall, Milton pulled Luke’s slight frame into his chest.

“You’re in some serious hot water, young man, but it’s not the end of the world. You will fail this class; there’s nothing I can do about it now, and I’m sure your backside will wish that you’d made better choices, but nobody’s going to die here.”

Luke was only half focused on the words as he was already imagining leaving the dusty purple Victorian house that he’d lived in for less than a month, but felt more like a home than his father’s house ever had. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else: Mace and Trent’s great cooking, Milton’s demanding expectations, Sheldon’s wild stories about life at the TV station and his equally wild shifts in mood, and Tilden’s crazy Russian music. He’d miss everything about Tilden and Mike, even the things that irritated him—the rules, the early bedtime, Mike’s complaints about everything. It wasn’t that Luke always liked the restrictions; he just didn’t vocalize every grievance.

Milton shook Luke’s shoulders. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Startled, Luke raised his head from Milton’s chest. “What?”

Milton placed his hand under Luke’s chin and tilted the smaller man’s head up. “Look at me and listen.” His voice was soft but oddly compelling, demanding Luke’s undivided attention. “I’m not going to sugar coat this. You made a huge mistake, but it’s not the end of the world, even though it may feel like it right now.” Milton’s lips curved into a slight smile. “You should have thought of the consequences before you did it.”

Luke tried to drop his head, but Milton blocked his move to pull away. “I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled. Any resolve that Luke had to act dignified or adult like crumbled under Milton’s steady gaze. Luke tried to burrow back into Milton’s chest. Maybe if he could hide, the day would disappear, and he could start again.

Milton must have recognized Luke’s intention because he kept him at arm’s length. “I won’t let you hide from it, but I won’t be unfair. Are you listening to me?” Milton gave Luke a small shake.

“Yes, sir.” Luke wiped his eyes with the rough sleeve of his sweater. The coarse material scraping against his swollen eyes swiftly brought him back to reality. He braced himself for his impending doom, trying to keep his eyes on Milton. He could at least take this part with dignity. He’d already humiliated himself in front of the class; there was no way they’d missed him crying over an empty desk.

“You will fail this class,” Milton said. “That’s out of my hands.”

“I was already failing. So what’s the difference?”

“Don’t,” Milton said, his voice sharp with warning. “Trying and failing is honorable. Failing because you cheated is disgraceful.”

Luke jerked at Milton’s words as if he’d been slapped. He’d been screamed at more times than he could count, but Milton’s words hurt more than any hysterical admonishment from his father. He’d long ago stopped listening to his father.

“Luke.” Milton ran his hand down the shaking brat’s back. “Tilden loves you. No matter what fool behavior you indulge in, he will love you. But neither of us condone this behavior. You live with two professors; we expect absolute academic integrity. We’d like you to be successful in school, and we’ll help you, but we expect honest success.”

“I just didn’t want to fail,” Luke whispered, swallowing hard to keep fresh tears at bay.

“We should have told you this, but we didn’t want to cause defeatism. Both Tilden and I expected you to fail this class. You came with no background and no study skills. It would be unreasonable to expect you to do well. I was prepared to give you an incomplete, so we could work together during January term to remedy your academic shortcomings.”

Luke bit his cheek to keep from crying again and nodded. Why did school always cause such a problem? It wasn’t fair; he tried. It just never went right for him.

“Do you understand I can’t give you an incomplete now? I have to fail you.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke muttered. 

Milton didn’t stop Luke from burrowing back into his chest. He wrapped an arm around Luke. “We’ll try to keep as much of the punishment at home as we can, but I have to fail you; that’s not negotiable. It will be on your permanent transcript. You could be expelled for this. The deans don’t usually expel freshmen, but it’s possible.”

“I didn’t know I could be expelled,” Luke mumbled into Milton’s chest.

“Didn’t you read the honor code, or did you just sign it?” Milton asked, his voice uncompromising.

“I don’t remember.”

“You’re not a child. You need to be aware of the consequences of your actions.”

“Tilden’s going to spank me, isn’t he?”

“That’s Tilden’s choice, but I expect so. Now let’s get your face washed, and you back in the classroom. I can’t stay out here, or everyone will be cheating. I can remember when exams weren’t proctored and books didn’t disappear from library tables,” Milton said wistfully.

Except for Mike, no one looked as Luke walked back into the classroom with Milton and sat down again at his empty desk. Mike gazed at Luke and appeared poised to ask a question when Milton shook his head. Luke curled into a ball, trying to hide his head in his hands. He alternated between feeling that the clock was moving with agonizing slowness to wishing the period would never end. Once the period ended, he’d have to tell Tilden, and then there would be the ordeal with the deans. Dean Tyler seemed like a good guy, but disapproval practically seeped out of Dean Groat’s pores every time Luke passed her on campus. Tyler was the dean of men. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk to the devil in the red dress.

The bell rang and Milton began collecting papers. Most students seemed ready to relinquish their masterpieces, but several he had to cajole or coerce to gain custody of their precious bluebooks. A few students must have noted Luke’s lack of an exam because they gave him a curious stare as they filed out of the room.

Mike raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “What happened to yours?” as he passed Luke’s desk to hand in his test.

As the room cleared, Luke turned toward Mike who was fiddling with his jacket and slowly replacing his pens into his book bag, trying to hide that he had to wait for Milton. “I had my notes out.” Somehow saying you had notes out sounded less awful than “I was cheating.”

Mike stopped playing with the multitude of zippers on his backpack and stared at Luke. “If you’re going to cheat at least pick a class where you have half a chance not to get caught. Sitting up front and cheating is suicide.”

“Thanks for the brilliant advice. As if I don’t know it now.”

“Hey, don’t get all hot and bothered with me. My butt can’t take anymore.” Mike lowered his voice and passed a hand over his corduroy clad rump. “Did Milton say what he was going to do to you?” 

“No,” Luke said, running his fingers through his hair, “besides failing me.”

The classroom had cleared and Milton came up behind the two young men. “Let’s go.”

Milton placed his arm around Luke’s shoulders. Luke wasn’t sure if it was to provide comfort or to prevent him from escaping.

Tilden was in his office with a young woman, completing her final oral test for advanced Russian. Luke couldn’t fully understand the words, but it sounded like Tilden was encouraging the woman to answer more completely, and he kept repeating a few key phrases as if hoping she would pick up on the hint and use those phrases in her answer. Finally the slow, torturous interview was over, and she left the office. 

Tilden smiled at the three men. “This is a surprise. I thought Luke and Mike were going home with you this afternoon.”

“There’s been a change of plan,” Milton said, keeping Luke secured at his side. “Luke cheated on the history exam.”

Luke shriveled under Tilden’s gaze of disappointment and hurt. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking,” Luke managed to choke out before the tears overwhelmed him.

“Can’t you just leave him alone,” Mike burst out. “You’re already going to fail him. What more do you want? Fucking blood?”

“That’s enough,” Milton hissed and pushed Mike toward a corner cluttered with bundles of old copies of Pravda and Izvestia. “Stand there and settle down before you get yourself in trouble.”

Mike started to argue, but Luke interrupted, “Don’t. Please. It’s my fault. I deserve it.”

Tilden rose from the desk and guided Mike into the corner. “Misha, think. We won’t hurt Luke.” Mike took a deep breath and seemed to actively force a calm over himself by taking deep slow breaths. Tilden squeezed Mike’s shoulder and whispered, “Spasibo,” before turning toward Luke. “Luka, you’ve gotten yourself in a mess, haven’t you?”

Luke nodded and moved toward Tilden, wanting nothing more than the feel of Tilden’s arms around him. The same arms that would surely spank him later today. Luke buried his head in Tilden’s chest and sighed as his top’s arms enclosed him. Tilden and Milton began discussing something over Luke’s head. He paid little attention. They were tops; they would know what to do. In the haze of conversation, he heard Tilden phone Trent and Milton call Dean Tyler. Milton arranged a meeting with the dean in thirty minutes, and Trent was going to pick up Mike and take him to the cafe.

The dean’s office was in the old science complex, a building that wasn’t the highlight of campus tours. Luke climbed the crumbling concrete steps, glad for Tilden’s arm around his shoulders. They entered the grimy hallway lit with flickering fluorescent lights and the pale winter sunlight that managed to seep through the grimy windows. The hall smelled faintly of cat urine, most likely the odors of tens of years of failed chemistry experiments. Dean Tyler’s office was on the second floor in a stifling corridor decorated with faded posters extolling the virtues of nuclear power and describing the proper procedure for duck and cover and building a homemade bomb shelter. 

The dean was sitting in his office, leaning back in a battered chair that had to be the same vintage as the posters in the hall. His jacket and tie were off, tossed haphazardly on a dented metal filing cabinet. His sleeves were rolled up, but there were still beads of sweat on his forehead. The two windows were thrown open, trying to relieve the summertime in Chicago climate of the office. “Hi,” Dean Tyler waved them inside. “Try to make yourself comfortable or as comfortable as is possible in this hothouse. Building maintenance promised to come over and adjust the radiators when I insisted that I could boil water without the aid of a Bunsen burner, but so far they haven’t made good on their promise.”

Luke couldn’t help smiling slightly at Dean Tyler’s light comments, and the incongruity of the sauna type atmosphere with the damp of November. As if trying to prove his point, a saucepan with two eggs sat on a radiator. Luke could see a slight wave in the water as if it were just below the boiling threshold.

“Ah, I see you’ve seen my little experiment. I thought some fresh hard boiled eggs might egg on the maintenance staff.” Dean Tyler laughed at his own joke.  “You better get your coats and sweaters off, or you’ll be as cooked as the eggs in a few minutes.”

Luke, Tilden and Milton stripped off their coats and sweaters. “Why is it so hot in here?” Luke blurted out uncomfortable with the silence that had come over the room.

“Ah, you’re too young to remember the joys of radiator heat,” Dean Tyler said with a slight smile. “Luke, are you OK?”

Luke nodded but kept his eyes on the floor. Couldn’t the dean just get on with it? 

“Hey, you can talk to me. I may be the dean, but I also understand your private life, and I know what it feels like to have an ax hanging over my head.”

“Thanks,” Luke murmured. “I know I’m in deep trouble.” Luke braved a glance at Tilden and Milton before dropping his eyes back to the floor. “Can we please get this over with?”

“Luke, do you contest Milton’s claim that you were cheating on the exam?” Dean Tyler asked.

“No, sir.”

“Since you’ve violated the honor code, you could be expelled.”

Luke swallowed hard and blanched. If Tilden hadn’t ruffled his hair at that moment, he thought he would have burst into tears again.

“You’re a freshman, and you have a partner who I’m sure will make you understand the gravity of your error.” Dean Tyler tapped his pen on the desk before continuing. “You will receive an F for this semester in Professor Brown’s class, and if this incident is ever repeated, you will be suspended. This F may cause your grades to fall within the range of academic probation. You will be responsible for any consequences associated with a deficient academic average.  Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir, and I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure you are. You’re not a bad boy, just a young man who forgot to think the situation through,” Dean Tyler said, his deep voice rumbling with warmth and affection. “Listen to Tilden.” He mopped his brow with a crumpled handkerchief. “Now get out of here. I don’t need any more body heat in this room.”

Luke heard Milton and Tilden thank Dean Tyler for his kindness and practically scrambled from the office with only Tilden’s grip on his shoulder preventing him from running down the stairs. Luke gulped the damp November air as they escaped the building. His relief was short lived as his thoughts turned to the remainder of the punishment that Dean Tyler had hinted at. Tilden would surely spank him; he’d probably paddle him. Luke remembered the hot burn after his episode at the frat party and wondered where cheating fell on the scale of crimes. He leaned against Tilden, concerned about the disappointment that he must have caused his partner; after all, Tilden was a professor.

“Yes, you’re getting spanked, but it will be OK, druzhok,” Tilden whispered into Luke’s ear. 

Luke looked up and let himself study his partner’s expression for the first time. It was firm with no merry twinkle in those amazing deep blue eyes, but it wasn’t angry, not the red blustery expression that he used to see on his father. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“You’re my boy; I’m supposed to know.” 

As they passed the history building, Milton drifted off back to his office, leaving Tilden and Luke to walk home alone. Conversation didn’t seem necessary as Luke pressed himself close, trying to merge into his top’s body. Luke imagined himself drawing the two of them walking across campus; there would be only a single shadow in the pale winter sun. 

They entered the house from the kitchen and Tilden disentangled himself from his young partner. “Go wait in the study in the corner. Take your trousers off.”

Luke flinched at the words and hurried toward the study. From the time Milton had grabbed his bluebook, Luke knew a spanking was coming, but only now when the reality was but minutes away did the true dread settle in his stomach. The study was warm, but Luke could feel goosebumps forming on his bare legs. He fingered the books on the shelves. Most of the titles were incomprehensible, but he did recognize War and Peace and the English translation of Crime and Punishment. Luke traced his finger over the gold embossed lettering on the Dostoyevsky novel; its title seemed appropriate.

“Luka, come here.” Tilden was sitting in the middle of the room; the paddle tucked between the chair’s legs.

Luke forced his feet one in front of the other, feeling like a Russian convict must have felt starting the long march to frozen Siberia. He crouched over Tilden’s lap and lowered himself onto his top’s thighs. Luke felt Tilden’s arms shift his weight more forward. A warm hand stroked his ass and in one fast motion drew his boxers down. The cold air struck his ass, sending shivers down Luke’s spine. How had he been so stupid? He was a submissive; his dominant was a professor. Of course Luke was going to end up ass end up if he did a fast one on a test. He wasn’t a cheat. Why?

“What’s this spanking for?”

“Cheating,” Luke choked out, his face already wet with tears of shame.

“Why did you cheat?”

“I don’t know,” Luke whined.

“Try again.” Tilden’s hand was resting on Luke’s exposed flesh like some kind of macabre warning.

Luke drew a shuddering breath. He was rapidly starting to hate the interviews in this position. He felt exposed like an offering to the gods of spanking, a virgin butt instead of a fair maiden.

Tilden must have thought Luke had delayed too long because he landed two sharp swats. “Why did you cheat?” he repeated.

“I didn’t want to fail.”

“We’ve all failed tests. It’s embarrassing and frustrating, but not the end of the world.”

“But Milton spent so much time helping me.”

“You didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“I’ve always been a disappointment, a disgrace to the family name,” Luke cried out. He could feel his tears dripping off his cheeks onto the floor.

“Luka,” Tilden said in an anguished whisper, tracing his finger downs Luke’s back. “Did your father hurt you?”

“No, he’d yell, turn red, slam doors, and then say he had a crisis at work and disappear for days. I hated it. I wanted to do better, to make him proud of me.”

“You will do better, but you don’t cheat no matter the circumstances.” Tilden spanked hard and fast. Luke couldn’t stop himself from bucking with every swat. Luke gasped for breath as Tilden shifted his weight and reached for the paddle. Luke let out a wail as the first blow fell. “I’ll never cheat again. Please,” Luke blubbered.

Tilden didn’t pause and the paddle continued to fall rapidly. Luke’s cries at each stroke soon blended into a continuous wail. Luke kept crying long after the paddling stopped. Tilden eased Luke down between his knees and wrapped his arms around his sobbing partner, murmuring a litany of reinsurances into his ear. Luke sniffled and buried his head into Tilden’s lap. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, druzhok.” Tilden planted a firm kiss on Luke’s forehead. “It’s all over. You do have to write a paper for Milton on the history of cheating, and I have some lines and special vocabulary words for you to copy out twenty times, but you’re forgiven. Can you move to the sofa now? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Luke nodded and let Tilden pull him to his feet. He lay on the sofa with his head draped across Tilden’s lap, hiccuping and sniffling as Tilden combed his fingers through Luke’s blond curls. Luke’s butt throbbed, but he felt lighter than he’d felt all day. I must be crazy, he thought. Happy to get my ass thrashed. He was too weary to consider it further and shut his eyes. As he drifted off into a light doze, he reflected sleepily that whether he understood it or not, he felt safe. No harm would come to him in this household. Tilden would emphasize his disapproval, but all three of them would wake up in the same bed the next day.