The Golden Goose 3

The Golden Goose 3

Milton rapped sharply on the door and pushed it open when he heard the low groan which he assumed substituted for the more correct ‘come in’. Jared was still in bed, the light coverlet pulled up to his chin. He gave Milton a combination startled and sheepish look.

“What time is it?”

“Ten”

“I was supposed to be at a meeting an hour ago,” Jared said and started to scramble from the bed. “Damn! I’ve got to get going. I don’t know who you are, but I don’t have any time for you. I’m late.”

“Sit down,” Milton said in a voice he knew would guarantee compliance, even his most ill-behaved student froze at that tone.

Jared’s eyes dropped to the floor, and he collapsed on the bed as if his legs were pulled out from under him. “I’m late,” he protested feebly. “I had a meeting at nine.”

“I rescheduled it for lunch time.” Milton said and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He was well aware this gave him a slightly menacing air, and he noticed Jared’s rapid swallows and the slight flush in the boy’s cheeks. Landon, as usual, had been absolutely right. This boy was submissive to the core, and from his reaction to even the slightest sign of toppishness, he was badly in need of guidance. “I’m Milton Brown; I am head of the Green Mountain Boys. Do you understand who we are?”

Jared gulped again and shook his head.

Milton gave Jared a wry smile. “Trust Landon to drop you in this mess without even a small hint.”

Jared licked his lips, swallowed again, and started to speak.

Milton held up his hand, silencing Jared before even the first syllable escaped his mouth. “I know you were invited here to discuss a grant proposal. The Foundation is separate from the Green Mountain Boys. Landon and Atticus will go over the specific details today at lunch, but the decision to make a substantial donation had already been decided before Landon invited you. Nothing that happens this weekend will change the grant to your organization. Landon used the grant as a pretense to get you here, and I offer my sincere apologies on my behalf and the behalf of the Green Mountain Boys that this weekend was not presented truthfully.” Milton smiled again and uncrossed his arms. It was time to sound kindly and reassuring. “I’m a top; I think you’ve already realized that.”

Jared nodded again, his face flushing to a deep crimson. “I’m not interested. I don’t do that kind of things.” Jared was no expert, but he lived in the twenty-first century. He’d seen at least one episode of that terrible TV reality program, and, well, it was whispered about enough.

“I think you might like to though, wouldn’t you?” Milton asked with another smile. “And we usually describe our relationships and our organizations with more descriptive words than things.”

“Leave me alone. I’m not that kind of boy.”

“Boy,” Milton said, echoing Jared’s words. “Is that how you think of yourself?”

“No,” Jared snapped. “You’re confusing me; you’re trying to trick me.”

“Maybe a little,” Milton said with a half-smile. “I am trying to keep you off balance. You hide this side of yourself very well, and this is your chance to indulge. I’m trying to give you a little push in that direction.”

“I don’t want a little push,” Jared shot back. “I don’t have time for this stuff. I don’t throw tantrums in restaurants; I’m an adult with responsibilities.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Jared,” Milton said gently, “power exchange relationships come in all stripes and colors. Some may involve tantrums in restaurants; my own partner can be most impressive at times, but many others are far more discreet. Admittedly what you will see this weekend will not be on the discreet side. Blade and Ryan are here, and they play hard.” Milton rolled his eyes and looked heavenward. “I don’t believe Blade has any concept of the word discreet, but they are very much in love, and Ryan can handle him. It might involve cuffs and whips and games you probably have never imagined or if you have imagined you would deny, but they are both supremely happy.”

“Tilden, my closest friend, will be up this weekend. He is as different from Ryan as New York is from Los Angeles. They are both big cities or in this case tops, but Tilden is quiet. Blade might call him dull; Tilden’s never overt. If he didn’t have two boys in tow, you probably wouldn’t recognize him as a top. That might not be accurate,” Milton said after a moment’s pause. “The submissives always know he’s a top; it’s the other tops and the everyday folk who would never guess. And Tilden, like Gordon who picked you up at the train station or Ryan or me for that matter, we are tops all the time. We choose with our partners to live this lifestyle 24/7. With us you will see the extremes; many of our members are ordinary couples the majority of the time. They may play at a club or come up here for a week to unwind, but they don’t live and breathe this lifestyle. It’s not one size fits all, and most don’t throw tantrums in restaurants.”

Jared had paled during Milton’s short monologue and was running his hand absently over the coverlet. “I’m not interested,” he mumbled.

“As you wish,” Milton said and walked over to the bureau where he set a green shirt. “I’m going to leave this shirt with you. Put it on if you decide you might like to try the submissive side of things. I have spoken with Landon, and I know you are carrying the world on your shoulders right now. You deserve to have a little fun, but it’s your choice. Shower and get dressed. I’ll wait in the hall for you, and I’ll take you to the kitchen for a late breakfast.”

******

Jared ran the towel over his hair one more time. It was soft and oversized and spoke of the quiet luxury that was evident in the room and which he hadn’t noticed in his semi-dazed state last night. Semi-dazed was a generous way to put it, he thought ruefully. More accurate was tearful, childish, and idiotic. He blushed at the memory of Milton practically carrying him up the stairs and bullying him into bed like an overtired toddler. At least he’d been kind enough not to bring it up this morning. 

And the green shirt. No, he wasn’t going to think about it; he had too many responsibilities. He pulled a tan shirt from his bag and shrugged into it. Somewhere he knew he’d read that he shouldn’t wear both brown pants and a brown shirt, but so much for the stereotypical gay guy and fashion sense. At least it wasn’t green. 

He stepped out into the hall. Milton was there as promised, his arm over the shoulders of a very young man, maybe college age, and from the man’s head down and shoulders slumped position he was in some kind of trouble. 

“Cam, we don’t run in the halls here. It’s not what we expect of a Green Mountain Boy,” Milton said quietly. “We value politeness and decorum.”

“You don’t have to make a federal case out of it.”

“I wouldn’t go there, young man.” Milton’s tone had hardened, and Jared could see Cam further wilt in Milton’s grasp.

“Sorry, sir.”

“I’m not mad.” Milton brushed the hair of Cam’s forehead and kissed him chastely on the newly revealed bare spot. “This is the way it is here, and I know it takes some time. I’m going to help you remember.”

“You’re not going to spank me.” Cam wiped furtively at his eyes.

“Not this time, boy.” Milton smoothed Cam’s hair back into place. “Two laps around the grounds. Find Ryan when you’re done. Now scoot. You’ll have to be quick.” Milton gave Cam a gentle push in the right direction and turned toward Jared. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

Jared nodded. Milton hadn’t mentioned the shirt; he hadn’t even acted like he’d noticed. 

“Is there something else?” Milton asked, stepping suddenly too close, his hand on Jared’s shoulder. 

Jared knew he should back away or march to the kitchen--where ever that was. He shouldn’t stand here and let this strange man, this strange top, touch him, but it all felt somehow right.

“Cam’s new here,” Milton said with a gentle smile. “We run what might be best described as a summer camp for young men wanting to try out our version of the submissive life style. A new session started on Thursday, so they are all a bit discombobulated, and it will get worse before it gets better.”

“Oh,” was the only sound Jared could manage. He wasn’t twenty; he had no business even in his wildest dreams considering or wishing for what had flashed through his mind.

“You can try it if you like. I can’t tell you to change your shirt color.” Milton lifted Jared’s chin, his brown eyes seeming to stare into depths of Jared that he didn’t even know he possessed. “I won’t order you to change your shirt color; I won’t make you declare yourself to be a submissive, but hiding a part of yourself is never healthy. We have your back this weekend, and you can let yourself go. Think about it.” Milton roughly tousled Jared’s hair, a gesture that would usually make him squirm away, but from Milton it felt surprisingly right. “End of lecture. Let’s get you some breakfast before you faint, and I have Gordon reading me the riot act for not showing proper hospitality.”

Milton took a step down the hall, but Jared found himself rooted in front of the door. Did he want this? Should he change his shirt? 

“It’s only for the weekend,” Milton said easily. “It’s a very safe place to try it. As a dominant in the Green Mountain Boys, it’s my duty to guide young and unsure submissives. You’ll be safe here.”

It was the overwhelming kindness in Milton’s eyes and voice that pushed Jared back into his room. He grabbed the dark green shirt with the black mountain monogrammed on the left breast. He hesitated, staring at himself in the mirror. His dark eyes were shadowed by even darker circles. Even in the height of summer, his cheeks looked pale and surprisingly gaunt; he couldn’t really remember when he had eaten his last uninterrupted meal. Jared took a deep breath, ripped off his tan shirt, and shrugged into the dark green. His hand was still on the shirt ready to tear it off when Milton’s voice interrupted him.

“That color is much better on you than that awful tan. Breakfast now.” He held out his hand, obviously expecting Jared to take it.

“I can’t.”

“Let yourself.” Milton grabbed Jared’s hand. His palm was warm, dry and surprisingly comforting. “Breathe. It will be OK. We’re actually good at this.”

Good at this. What did that mean? Jared wanted his tan shirt again, but there was no escaping Milton’s firm grip.

“Breakfast. We’ll start there. Come.” Authority had dropped into Milton’s voice, a command that Jared couldn’t resist as he felt his legs move unbidden being tugged forward by Milton’s long stride.

Milton moved through the corridor and down a long flight of stairs. He nodded to an occasional passerby, and Jared saw several men in shirts like his duck behind doors or intersecting corridors as if they didn’t want to be seen.

“Obvious, aren’t they? I’m the intimidator now. It’s a perk and a curse of being head of the Green Mountain Boys.”

Jared didn’t reply; he didn’t know how to reply. Milton was a strange mix of comfort and intimidation, and Jared was unsure what a correct reply might be. He hadn’t been towed behind a large and imposing figure since he was a small child. Traipsing along behind seemed like the only solution at the moment no matter how undignified.

The kitchen was quiet but still had the lingering smell of bacon and coffee. Milton pointed to a stainless steel counter and several stools.

“Stay here. You’ll have to live on a cold breakfast; Armand’s up for the summer, and he is not kind to nonprofessional chefs disturbing the kitchen, and in his kitchen my top status carries little weight.”

Milton wove between the giant cooktops and meters of stainless steel counters obviously familiar with the kitchen. From an enormous refrigerator he pulled out a bowl of fruit and poured a glass of milk and a glass of juice. Before returning to Jared, he piled a basket high with baked goods and small bowls of jelly. 

Jared stared at the bounty; he hoped Milton didn’t expect him to eat all those breads.

“Juice, fruit and milk; the rest is your choice,” Milton clarified. “I’m partial to the blueberry muffins, but I didn’t know what you preferred.”

“Anything’s fine,” Jared mumbled. 

“No, it’s not,” Milton said sharply and pulled the overflowing bread basket out of reach. “You are a submissive; you’re not inconsequential. Your wishes and desires are as important as your partner’s, your parents’, or the many people’s who I understand depend on you at work, and your wishes and opinions when they’re sensible are certainly more important than mine, a man who you met less than twenty-four hours ago. Not eating is not sensible; not liking corn muffins is sensible. Being a submissive is about giving up certain negotiated rights, not all rights and opinions. Now what kind of bread would you like?”

“I’m not fussy,” Jared said softly, not lifting his eyes from the stainless steel countertops. 

“Jared,” Milton growled. “Should I find three day old stale Russian black bread?” 

Jared didn’t answer. This wasn’t important. Who cared if the muffin was orange cranberry or cinnamon raisin? 

“Jared, you’re sitting next to a top. Make sure this is the way you want this to play out. We call this defiance and disobedience, and such behavior is not without consequences.” Milton’s voice was soft, but Jared bit his lip and felt himself nearly shiver at the quiet threat this tone implied.

“Anything’s fine,” Jared repeated in a whisper. He wanted the chocolate croissant; he could see it peeking out from under the cinnamon bun and the baguette. He loved chocolate croissants. There had been a bakery just down the street from his house growing up, and every Sunday he and his dad would enter the small shop with its tinkling bell over the door and the smiling and bustling women behind the counter. Jared always had the croissant, and his dad would have the danish filled with cheese and berry jam, and they would talk about sports; baseball had been their passion. Now both his parents hardly knew what day it was.

“Plain, chocolate, or fruit filled?” Milton asked.

“I don’t care,” Jared heard himself shout, angry beyond reason about a stupid pastry. He slammed his glass down on the table, sloshing juice across his pants. He launched himself to his feet, sending the stool clattering backwards. “I don’t want breakfast; you ruined it for me.” Jared knew the last remark made him sound about three, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I want to go home.”

“Sit down.” Milton’s voice was deep, calm, and inexplicably impossible to disobey. “Pick up the stool, young man.”

Jared reached for the stool. No, he wasn’t here to play whatever games these men enjoyed. He’d been lured up here with a promise of a grant, not some deranged sex play. “No,” he spat and turned and grabbed the basket of breads from the other side of Milton. “I told you I didn’t want breakfast! I hate raisins!” He hurled the sweet roll with raisins across the kitchen. “Nuts are foul!” He whipped the pecan roll the other way where it hit the door with a plop.

Milton’s hands caught Jared’s wrist in an unbreakable grip. “You don’t like nuts or raisins. What do you like?” 

“Nothing!” Jared shouted.

“You must like something.” Milton’s voice was slow and steady in Jared’s ear. Jared could feel the edges of Milton’s wiry beard against his face as the big man enveloped him in his arms. “Chocolate is Sheldon’s favorite. How about you?”

“No. Please.” Jared knew he was crying. He couldn’t stop himself, nor did he understand why. He could feel the hot, wet tears coursing down his face and taste their bitter saltiness.

Jared felt himself turned around by a force he couldn’t resist. His face was pressed into Milton’s warm and solid chest. “I’ve got you.”

Jared didn’t know how long he stood pressed tight into Milton, sobbing uncontrollably. He was hiccuping and choking back the final sobs, conscious of Milton’s hands rubbing long smooth planes down his back and the quiet litany of comfort from the lips just over his head.

“I’m sorry,” Jared mumbled, feeling overwhelmingly ashamed for the scene he’d just made. “I’m an idiot.” 

“Don’t berate yourself. You are overwrought, not an idiot. I was expecting this, maybe not this soon, but it will be easier now that it’s over. Now what kind of bread would you like?”

“You can’t be serious?! I just threw a tantrum worthy of a two-year-old.” Jared wanted to hide; he didn’t behave this way; he was a responsible adult.

“You threw two rolls and shouted at me. There’s no harm done.”

“I--”

“Stop, boy. Sit.” With one hand, Milton righted the stool while maneuvering Jared onto it with the other. He placed the bread basket in front of Jared. “Choose two.”

Jared sat frozen, his eyes on the chocolate filled croissant. Why couldn’t he just reach out and take it?

Milton cupped his hand under Jared’s jaw, forcing him to look at Milton’s deep, brown eyes. “Do you want to push me to spank you? I’m safe to do that with, boy, if that’s what you need, but you don’t know me. Do you want that from a near stranger? Think, boy, because you’re getting close.”

“I’m not hungry.” Jared wanted to cringe at the belligerence in his tone, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He was on a train barreling down the mountain toward the bridge washed out by the roaring river, and no cowboys with white hats were in sight.

Jared felt two strong hands on his shoulders, and before he could react or resist he was across Milton’s lap, his legs trapped between Milton’s thighs. The half dozen spanks over his pants were quick and more shocking than painful. He was upright again almost before he realized it had started.

“Choose.” The bread basket was in front of his face, the golden crust of the croissant wrapped around the dark chocolate tempting him. 

“No.” Jared knew he hurled the word as a challenge. In his own mind he could hear the words make me. 

“Jared, do you understand what is going to happen?”

Yes, somehow he did. He was going to get spanked, not the half dozen swats but a real honest to God spanking. 

“Is this what you want?”

“Bread is bread. I’m not choosing.” Jared knew he was being provocative. He could see it in Milton’s dark eyes that seemed to know too much.

“Young man, this is your last chance.” Milton’s voice was deeper and richer. It resonated of naked power, both frightening and alluring.

“I don’t want your fucking bread!”

“Stand up and lower your trousers.” Milton’s hand was on Jared’s shoulder, but he didn’t pull him to his feet.

Jared struggled to his feet, his chest suddenly felt tight as if he were an asthma sufferer. He’d provoked this man whom he hardly knew into spanking him, and he was going along with it. In some way he even wanted it. Jared didn’t have time to analyze the myriad of emotions swirling through his brain: apprehension, curiosity, desire, fear. His hands shook as he struggled with the button on his pants. Milton moved to pull a straight backed chair from the wall where it had been unnoticed by Jared.

“I need you better balanced than you were over my lap on the stool,” Milton said by way of an explanation. 

Jared felt himself move the short distance toward Milton, his unfastened pants sliding down his slim hips and hobbling his legs. He caught Milton’s outstretched hand and with relief allowed himself to be guided over those broad thighs.

“I won’t let you fall,” Milton said and wrapped his arm around Jared’s hip, anchoring him into place.

Jared flinched as Milton’s fingers caught the back of his briefs and pulled them down. Milton’s hand was warm on Jared’s quivering butt. He clenched and held his breath, awaiting the first blow.

“I’m going to spank you, not beat you. This will hurt, and you will wish it was done long before I finish, but I will not harm you. Breathe for me, Jared. I won’t tell you to relax because I know it’s impossible in your position.”

Jared sucked in a long, choking breath as Milton’s hand fell in a crisp swat. It hurt and the noise was shocking, flesh against flesh. The second blow fell while Jared was still responding to the first. Each swat, hard and sharp, made him flinch and squirm. By the sixth he was yelping, and he blinked back tears as he lost count and the fire became overwhelming. He was crying now, wet undignified tears as he rolled and bucked at each fiery spank. It hurt. God, it hurt. All this for a sweet roll.

“Please,” Jared gasped involuntarily. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

The spanks kept falling, a hard crescendo of swats against his already battered skin. Jared’s pleas were incoherent now; a torrent of sound ripped from his throat at each new blow. Jared was limp and exhausted across Milton’s knee, oblivious to everything except the searing heat of his butt when he realized that Milton wasn’t spanking him, but rubbing his back in soothing circles. 

“Good boy. It’s all over now. Brave boy.” Milton slid Jared’s briefs back into place and swung Jared upright. 

Jared clung to Milton’s shirt, burying his face into Milton’s chest, too exhausted to be concerned about dignity. He wanted comfort. His butt burned, a flaming heat that seared through his body but was also strangely calming. He cuddled against Milton, feeling languid and soothed.

“You are a good boy.” Milton tangled his fingers gently in Jared’s hair. “You needed this. You help everyone else in your life; it’s now time to let us help you. You can’t keep this side of yourself buried forever.”

Jared clutched tighter to Milton’s shirt; it was all he was capable of right now. He knew he should get up and get on with life. He was a grown man, and he was clinging to Milton like a small boy, unable to control even his most basic emotions.

Milton pulled out a pristine and starched handkerchief. “Wipe your face. You’ll feel better.”

Jared took the handkerchief and scrubbed at his wet cheeks and eyes. His eyes felt swollen; and it would be obvious to anyone who looked that he’d been crying.

“You’re not the first person to walk around up here with red eyes. No one will bother you about it.” Milton ruffled Jared’s hair. “You still need breakfast, my boy. Do you think we can do it right side up?”

Jared nodded frantically. He didn’t want another spanking.

“What would you like?”

“Take the chocolate. You’re going soft, letting a brand new boy have chocolate for breakfast. You should have seen him this morning when I had chocolate chip pancakes. You would’ve thought they were feeding me arsenic. The kitchen staff knows what I like. I’m Sheldon; Milton’s boy by the way. I don’t think we’ve met, but I assume you’re Jared, Landon’s newest rescue.” 

Sheldon was speaking incredibly fast as he openly studied Jared with vivid green eyes brimming over with curiosity and boisterous good humor.

“Sheldon, what are you doing here?” Milton asked.

“The troops are getting restless. They need their general.”

“Ryan and Gordon are here. They are more than capable.”

“Tilden’s here too, but they aren’t you. Ryan has Blade on leash, kneeling at his feet. It’s enough to give any new boy pause, and you know Gordon.”

“Sheldon, is there truly a problem, or are you just being nosy?”

Sheldon flushed and shot a sideways grin at Jared. “That man knows me too well. Remember that when you marry a top. He will know you way too well. You can’t get away with anything.”

Milton caught Sheldon’s wrist, pulled him close, and kissed his cheek. “You’re not your younger brother. Ryan takes good care of Blade.”

Sheldon made a face between a pout and a cartoon yuck. 

“Sheldon, we’ve talked about this before. You know Ryan loves your brother, and you more than know that I would be the first to interfere if I thought Blade wasn’t being treated right. Blade needs more than you do.”

“He’d let Ryan chain him to a whipping post and beat him senseless and be OK with it.”

“The beauty of Ryan is he’ll create the illusion that he’s done just that, and he won’t harm even a single strand of Blade’s red hair.”

“I don’t like it. He humiliates him. He’s on leash for fuck’s sake!”

“Sheldon don’t swear at me, and Jared eat something.”

“Chocolate, you can’t go wrong.” Sheldon picked up the chocolate filled croissant and dropped it on Jared’s plate. Eat or Milton will spank you again.”

Jared felt his face flush. He was sure it was as red as Sheldon’s hair.

“Easy, kid. I didn’t mean it as in insult. I get spanked all the time. You’re the first of the new boys to get spanked. You’ll be the talk of the gang. They’ll all be envious.”

Envious that he’d been spanked. Jared was nothing but embarrassed that Sheldon had so quickly spotted the truth of his condition. “I’ll eat,” he said, sliding from Milton’s lap. He didn’t want to be on Sheldon’s partner’s lap. He shouldn’t be cuddled up to a near stranger, especially a near stranger that was someone else’s partner.

“You don’t have to run,” Sheldon said easily. “Milton’s good at the cuddling thing. I should know; I spend enough time enjoying it. Gordon’s damn good at it too. That is if you get him mad enough to thump you first.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jared mumbled as he broke the croissant into pieces.

“Don’t say that around a top. They’ll make you talk about it until you’re absolutely sick of it. That’s rule one of being a boy here.”

“Sheldon, tone it down,” Milton said, wrapping his arm around Sheldon’s hip and pinning him in place. “And speaking of talking, I think you and Ryan need to sit down and have a chat.”

“I don’t want to,” Sheldon said in a voice that could be uncharitably described as a whine.

“Why?”

Jared picked a piece of crust from his croissant and let it melt on his tongue as he watched Milton and Sheldon. They should be arguing; Sheldon was refusing to do Milton’s bidding, and Milton’s voice was calm, certain, and nonthreatening.

“Ryan always sounds so reasonable when he explains it,” Sheldon said, leaning toward his partner who picked up the hint and lifted Sheldon into his now vacant lap.

“And you don’t want to believe a man who leads your brother around on a leash can be reasonable?”

“Yes, sir,” Sheldon said and buried his head in his partner’s broad chest.

“What would help?” Milton asked and kissed the silky red hair.

“I just have to get used to it. He’s my brother.”

“I know,” Milton said with a gentleness that spoke of true concern and understanding. 

“Blade wants to be a slave. I don’t get it. It’s so restrictive.”

“Sheldon.” Milton wrapped both his arms around Sheldon in a gesture of comfort and security. “I’m restrictive with you.”

“You don’t make me kneel or bind my hands behind my back,” Sheldon said hotly.

“I spank you. I tell you when to come home. I take your keys away when you’re late. It’s only a matter of degrees or shading.”

“Blade would give away his sovereignty.”

Milton kissed the side of Sheldon’s face. “Ryan will protect him and so will I. Blade’s needs and wants are different than yours. I’m sure Jared’s needs are very different than yours,” Milton added and gave Jared a half smile. 

Whipping, being tied up, kneeling, Jared couldn’t imagine doing any of those things or wanting to do any of those things, but he also wouldn’t have imagined getting spanked two hours ago. This was crazy. What had he fallen into? He didn’t hang out in shady bars or back alleys. 

“Don’t let us scare you,” Sheldon said with a tentative smile. “Really we aren’t crazy. My brother and I are what are known as high maintenance, and my brother is into things that give me the willies, especially when it’s my brother. Ryan’s a good man; I know that, but it’s my brother we’re talking about. It’s different when you see your own brother kneeling at someone’s feet. I don’t like it.” 

Jared didn’t like the idea, and he didn’t even know this Blade character. He rubbed his throat; he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be led around on a lead.

“Ryan loves your brother,” Milton said softly. “Try to be accepting.”

“I know, and I’m trying. And I know you’d kick Ryan’s ass if he didn’t treat Blade right. I have no doubt of that.”

“I wouldn’t quite use those words, but the sentiment is correct,” Milton said and tousled Sheldon’s hair. “Everything Ryan and Blade do together is negotiated, and Landon, Gordon, and I all supervise the negotiations. Blade’s well protected, and fortunately Ryan is good natured about all the interferences.”

“Ryan must hate me,” Sheldon mumbled.

“No, he likes you, and he knows you love your brother.” Milton rested his head on Sheldon’s shoulder, his beard mixing with Sheldon’s red hair. “Blade will always be your little brother, but he’s also Ryan’s boy. Ryan asked if we wanted to play with them sometime.”

“No,” Sheldon said sharply. “I don’t want to see it.”

“OK, sweetheart. I thought it might make you feel better.”

“God, I’m not a voyeur.”

“You’re not shy about being my boy, and Blade’s not shy about being Ryan’s boy.”

“He’d be naked and at Ryan’s feet at dinner if Gordon would allow it. Shy he’s not.”

“That’s Blade’s choice.” Milton brushed Sheldon’s hair back, smoothing it before tousling it back into disorderly tufts. “It’s not mine either, but my rights only go as far as protecting Blade, not the manner Blade chooses to show his submissiveness.”

Jared shivered. Public nudity. Why did the idea both horrify and excite him? He was a responsible citizen. Normal people didn’t long for such insanity, and they also didn’t get spanked before breakfast. Normal people went to work and took care of their family. His parents, he needed to call them. He left them alone with one of these lunatics.

Jared slid off the stool. He winced as his tender butt grazed over the wood. He started toward the door, hoping he could find his way back to his room.

“Jared, where are you going?”

Jared halted at the first sound of Milton’s voice with its overwhelming authority. “Home. My parents--”

“Your parents are fine. I spoke to Angus this morning. When you’re here, that is part of my responsibility.”

“I can take care of my own parents,” Jared shot back. He wasn’t an incompetent. His family was none of Milton’s business. How much did all these near strangers know?

“You’ve done a wonderful job with your parents, but you haven’t been taking care of yourself. I had to spank you this morning, and the spanking wasn’t about breakfast. You’ve been doing a desperate dance to keep everybody else’s world on axis and revolving properly around the sun, and you’ve totally neglected your own. It came crashing down around your head this morning, and I picked up the fragments. And it helped, didn’t it?”

Jared wanted to deny it, but with his butt still warm from Milton’s hand, it was impossible to deny. Something had happened when he was over Milton’s knee and when Milton had held him tight in his powerful arms. Jared had felt safe, protected, and something he couldn’t describe. No matter how much he wished to deny it, he knew underneath that he somehow had belonged when Milton had taken charge. Damn it! It had felt right, and it should all feel so wrong. Jared had thrown rolls like a spoiled child; the evidence still littered the floor. He’d stripped himself willingly for a man he’d hardly known and laid without protest across his lap for punishment. Bare, defenseless, submissive, he was a submissive, a brat. That is what he’d heard Jim call his partner when he’d created that scene in the restaurant, and Jared was no different.

“Yes, sir,” Jared said softly as he blinked back fresh tears and swallowed the lump in his throat. 

It was Sheldon who must have scrambled off Milton’s lap and thrown himself at Jared. His arms were tight and sure around Jared’s body. It was his voice in Jared’s ear, rich and full of humor and understanding.

“Welcome home, kiddo, and yeah I know I’m not much older than you, but I’ve done all this before, been there and got the t-shirt as they say. I know it’s terrifying. Don’t think about it too hard; just do what feels right. When I think about it, when I think that I knowingly gave Milton my heart, my soul, my body, all that is me, I’m fucking terrified. But God, it’s the best damn thing that ever happened to me. I was flailing so badly that I couldn’t have found the life buoy if it had landed on my head. You were faking it better than I was, but that’s still all it was, a Potemkin village surrounding your real self. My partner’s a history teacher; I had to get that in there somewhere.” Sheldon grinned at Jared, his face full of open good humor. “Bonus points next time I’m in trouble.”

“You’re always in trouble, boy,” Milton rumbled.

“I know, and I like it that way.” Sheldon smiled at Milton, his tongue tracing his lips in a seductive fashion as he batted his eyelashes.

“Don’t vamp at me, boy” Milton laughed. “Your brother has that position filled.”

“It was worth a try.”

“Do you need a spanking?” Milton’s eyes were bright and laughing behind his glasses.

“Not yet. Maybe later,” Landon said.

“All right,” Milton said. “Let me know, and I’ll be watching.”

“I know and thank you,” Sheldon said, all hint of teasing gone from his voice.

“You’re welcome,” Milton said softly and warmly. “Jared, do you want another croissant?” Milton asked, his voice back to a normal tone or maybe his professional top tone, Jared thought, not the private tone he used with his lover.

“It will be lunch soon,” Jared said. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re turning down chocolate. You must be sick,” Sheldon said and placed his hand on Jared’s forehead as if checking his temperature. “Can I have his chocolate?”

“Sheldon, do we have rules about food?”

“Don’t throw it and be sensible.”

“Are chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate filled croissants a sensible breakfast?”

“I had fruit, and I’m on vacation. It’s perfectly sensible.”

Milton rolled his eyes. “Only to you, my boy. Share it with Jared and make sure he gets to his lunch meeting. I do need to check on the new boys before everyone thinks I’ve made a break for civilization. Be good, boys.” Milton kissed Sheldon on the forehead and ruffled Jared’s hair as he headed for the door. “Take care of Jared.”

“I will. Go.” Sheldon made a shooing motion with his hands. “Us brats need a little privacy, and we’ll make sure there’s no mess.”

“No mess?” Milton repeated his eyebrows rising into his hairline. “We’ll see. Be good.”