The Golden Goose 5

The Golden Goose 5

Jared turned over and strained to see the numbers on the digital alarm clock against the glare from the open windows. A breeze ruffled the tied back curtains and carried in the faint scent of charcoal, hotdogs, chlorine, and the pine forest he could see climbing the rocky crags beyond the garden and the empty chairs of a ski lift in summer.

“You awake?”

“Maybe,” Jared said cautiously and rolled in the direction of the friendly voice. 

Blade was curled up in the massive armchair, his bare feet tucked underneath him and his oversized shirt billowing around his knees. 

“I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away.”

“Those were your partner’s orders,” Jared said testily and swung himself to a sitting position on the bed. “Stay in bed for a week.”

He’d been in bed for four hours, according to the clock. He should be up; he had responsibilities. He couldn’t sleep the day away; a cup of coffee and he’d be fine.

“I think the ‘in bed for a week’ was hyperbole. I know, big word but spend three years with college professors in your back pocket.” Blade shot Jared an impish grin; that boy’s good humor seemed irrepressible.

“I’m not staying in bed for a week.” Jared staggered to his feet, groaning as the abused muscles of his backside reminded him of Milton’s handiwork this morning.

“Sore?”

“What the fuck do you expect!” Jared shouted with a venom that made him wince. He was always the steady one; he did everything. He never lost his temper, and here he was cursing at some guy who he hardly knew and who was trying to be friendly. “Sorry,” he muttered and stupidly slid his hands down his pajamas as if he were smoothing out a dress shirt. They were hideous pajamas; Ryan had materialized them out of the hall closet in their glorious shade of candy cane stripes. Jared felt like he should be in an illustration of some children’s Christmas tale, all tucked up in his bed waiting for St. Nick to appear.

“Are you always this grouchy when you get up?” Blade asked, apparently unflustered by Jared’s outburst.

“Only when insane people ask me stupid questions.” Jared flopped back down on the bed, curling into a ball as he felt hot tears prick at his eyes. He wasn’t crying again; he didn’t cry. What was wrong with him? “Shit! Sorry.”

“Stop.” Blade landed on the bed with a bounce. He ruffled Jared’s hair as Jared try to flinch away. “Get used to it. We’re a touchy-feely bunch. Ryan would have you in his lap, but I’m not big enough for that. Sitting next to you will have to do.”

Next to him was more than plenty. Jared preferred a reasonable space between himself and overactive strangers, and he sure as hell didn’t run his fingers through a stranger’s hair. He knew touch was supposed to be comforting. He’d put his arm over the shoulder of an upset resident, but this was overkill, an assault by touch.

“It looks like Ryan left you some lunch. It has to be Ryan--much too healthy.” Blade made a face. “Carrot sticks, some of that horrible stiff bread he likes with peanut butter, and fruit.”

“Ugh,” Jared groaned and squirmed away from Blade. “I’m not hungry. I know you’re trying to be nice and all, but I’d like to get dressed in peace.” Jared stood up and pulled open the drawer of the dresser. Maybe acting busy would make Blade go away. He wasn’t in the mood for a chat.

Nothing. The drawer was empty. He knew it had been full of his clothes this morning. He jerked the bottom drawer open, equally empty, not even a single pair of underwear.

“Where are they?”

“Ryan,” Blade said with a shrug. “He wanted you to stay in bed.”

“So he takes my clothes?!”

“Settle down. It’s not like he burnt them or anything. You’re a boy; that’s the way it works here.”

“I am twenty-seven years old. I am not a boy,” Jared said through gritted teeth. “I have been taking care of my parents for the last three years. I hold a responsible job. I do not need to be dressed, or fed, or whatever perverted crap you do.”

“You might not need it, but you damn well like it. I saw you with my Ryan, and Milton spanked you. He’s not in the habit of spanking perfect strangers who don’t identify with our lifestyle.”

“I’m out of here,” Jared said and headed for the door.

“Barefoot and in your pajamas? You’re going to get far.”

Jared didn’t care. He wanted out of this insane asylum. He was an adult; he wasn’t playing these idiotic games. 

The carpet in the corridor felt abrasive against his bare feet. Jared turned left; he thought the stairs were in that direction. He didn’t remember the paintings in the gilded frames with their stern expressions and formal clothes. The corridor ended in a wide window thrown open to the late summer breeze. Jared could hear shouts and laughter, and below were a group of men crowded around a volleyball net. Jared sat down on the wide window ledge and drew his knees to the chest, watching the activity below.

“Jared.” The voice was soft, almost reserved, and unlike everyone else here the voice hadn’t come accompanied with an immediate ruffle of Jared’s hair or a squeeze of his shoulder. “Is everything OK?”

“Atticus,” Jared muttered and scrambled to his feet. “I’m fine.”

Atticus gave Jared a long, studied look, the disbelief obvious on his face. Why should he believe Jared? Jared was sitting in the hall barefoot and in pajamas. He looked like he should be committed somewhere. Why didn’t they call the men with the white coats and put him out of his misery?

“Did you have a good rest?” Atticus’s voice was grave and impeccably polite as if he always carried on conversations with business colleagues dressed in striped pajamas. “I’m sure you could join them.”

“In my night attire?” 

“Change.”

“Fucking Ryan took my fucking clothes!” Jared flushed at his words; he didn’t swear. What was the matter with him? He was an adult, and he was reverting to belligerent and childish behavior.

“I don’t usually do this top thing,” Atticus said with an apologetic smile, “but I wouldn’t recommend that language in their presence.”

“Are you going to spank me too, or carry me to bed, or steal my clothes?”

“No, but I’ll talk to you if you like. We need to discuss the project.”

“When I’m dressed like this?” When I’m behaving like an idiot? Jared leaned against the wall and irrationally wanted to cry again. He could feel the moisture pressing on his eyelids. He pressed his fists to his eyes, refusing to let the tears escape again.

“Hey, I’ve seen stranger outfits before, and some people even call them high fashion.” Atticus dropped a hand on Jared’s shoulder, his fingers slim and the touch tentative compared to the heaviness of Ryan and Milton. “I think Milton calls this spinning, and it’s supposed to be part of the process.”

“You make it sound like medicine or something,” Jared said with a choked laugh. “Blade thinks this is all fabulous.”

“Blade is crazy.” Atticus’s expression was thoughtful, his dark brows drawn together, his head tilted at an odd angle. “Perhaps this is like medicine, a purging of your emotions.”

“In public for all to watch and laugh at.”

“I’m not laughing.” Atticus stood silently against Jared, his eyes focused on the window and the friendly ruckus below. With a shrug that swept though his long limbs like a winter breeze through a barren tree, he dropped his hand from Jared’s shoulder. “I’m not helping much either. Should I get Milton or Ryan?”

“No.” Jared blinked at the vehemence in his voice. “Please,” he said in a softer tone.

Atticus’s eyes jerked toward Jared then back to the window. “OK,” he said, his voice mirroring the awkwardness that Jared felt.

“Sorry. I’m fine. I’ll go back to my room,” Jared babbled.

“Is one of them there?”

“No, Blade.”

“No wonder you’re out here,” Atticus said with a crooked smile. “He’d send me into a blizzard in my skivvies.”

Jared smiled. He couldn’t stop himself; it was such an appropriate image. It wasn’t that Blade was unfriendly. It was just he was so overwhelming, and together with Ryan, Jared felt he needed several hundred kilometers between himself and that pair for his comfort. 

“So do you want to stay here or brave Blade? I’m not as bad as severe frostbite, am I?”

Jared looked at Atticus, really looked at him for the first time. He was tall and too gangly for a perfect fashion plate. Now that he was in shorts and hiking boots, his long thin legs were almost a caricature of a teenager who hadn’t stop growing. His features were sharp with prominent cheekbones and a nose that was too steep for the classic model, but his faint smile was gentle, and his hazel eyes were warm with shared amusement. Jared realized he could like this guy. If he were going to work with him, Jared guessed it was a good idea that he didn’t detest him at first look, but it wasn’t only that. Jared smiled again before the thoughts of home came tumbling back front and center. He needed to be at home; he had work to do. Fantasizing about the man who controlled the grant money was colossally irresponsible and an unforgivably bad business strategy.

“I’ll brave Blade,” Jared said in a detach voice. “I’m hardly fit company.”

“What happened?” Atticus asked perceptively.

“I’m in my pajamas.”

“You were in your pajamas earlier; I don’t think it’s the same as badly underdressed in a blizzard.”

Atticus had stepped close enough that Jared would have to sidle around him or ask him to move. Jared backed against the windowsill, trying to give himself more room. “I’m tired.”

“I can believe that,” Atticus said with an appraising look. “But you do look less gray. I can hardly believe Blade is a restful companion.”

“Being interrogated isn’t restful either,” Jared snapped. “What is with you people? I want to be left alone.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped.” Atticus stepped aside, leaving a clear path of escape, and suddenly and perversely Jared no longer wanted it. 

Jared gave a shaky laugh. “I think it must be whatever this top business is. I’m not exactly being a genial companion either. Maybe we should start this over.” Jared drew himself up, trying to image himself in business clothes, and shook Atticus’s hand. “I’m Jared Ruston. I understand you are looking for a print shop.”

Atticus smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his eyes and turned up the corners of his mouth in a lopsided way. “And I usually don’t behave like a top. I think they’re rubbing off on us.”

“At least your side is not put to bed like a toddler and--” Jared stopped; he didn’t want to mention the spanking. 

“No, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the spanking,” Atticus said softly, pink rising in his cheeks. “I don’t top, or at least I try not to.”

“But?”

“I work for G&L, not the Green Mountain Boys. They’ve never required it, or at least until today.” Atticus gave Jared a wry smile. “I was given an ultimatum, and well, you don’t argue with Gordon Lewis.”

“Oh.” Brilliantly articulate.

“I do understand it. Have you looked at any of the materials we want printed?”

Jared had glanced at them to see if the printing was technically feasible in his workshop; he hadn’t read them. Most of his clients didn’t read, and if they could read, it was only at the most elementary level of one or two words such as exit or bathroom. Jared hadn’t been concerned with studying the actual content.

“I guess not,” Atticus said with a smile that suggested he wasn’t angry or surprised. “I’m in charge of the Texas project. Its ultimate goal is the overthrow of the government in the Republic of Texas, but its immediate goal is providing escape and a safe haven for the repressed populations in Texas, most specifically gay men. I understand why Mr. Lewis and Mr .Graves would prefer a director who shares their philosophy. We will be providing extended services to those men who identify with the power exchange.” Atticus smiled and shrugged, his long limbs windmilling in the small space. “And Landon has been after me for years. He’s very persuasive, and he must have gotten Gordon on board, despite the rumors to the contrary.”

“Rumors?” Jared questioned. He was curious, more curious than was polite. 

“He was moving carefully this morning. I understand Gordon had it out with him for not fully disclosing his plans and his identity as a member of the Green Mountain Boys to you. I was fully briefed before my first meeting here.”

“Oh,” was all Jared could manage. He’d been an idiot. There had been hints; he merely hadn’t seen them. He ran his fingers through his hair; even Charlotte had known, her smile, the tease in her voice. 

“Hey, don’t get all flustered again; I thought we were just starting to get along, and I went and put my foot in my mouth again. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Everybody else has.”

Atticus nodded. He wasn’t yelling at Jared or making polite noises and trying to get away. He was listening as if he were truly interested and sympathetic, not a ghoul feeding on Jared’s misery. “Jared, I know Landon, Gordon, and Milton well; I think none of these men are intentionally trying to upset you. In this environment they aren’t tactful or politely remote; they wade in and try to sort things out. It’s uncomfortable; I know that. I’ve been on the receiving end of their sorting out, not usually as bluntly as you. I landed in it today, unquestionably beyond the polite and hasty silence when any of these topics are broached in the general population. Ryan seems to be in the same vein only...” Atticus hesitated for a moment. “More flamboyant or at least his partner is.”

“His partner is insane,” Jared said with a snort.

“Maybe,” Atticus said with a half smile, “or maybe we’re the insane ones for not wearing our feelings on our sleeves. At least he’s honest with himself.”

“I prefer more discretion,” Jared said primly, “and I live in the real world,” he added with more heat in his voice. “It’s not my business to criticize someone’s sexual fantasies, but I have real work and real responsibilities.”

“Blade has a child. He has responsibilities; Milton and Ryan insist.”

“What? He’s gay.”

“I didn’t ask the mechanics, but I’ve seen the pictures, red hair and everything.”

“There you are.” Ryan’s voice filled the corridor. “I thought taking your clothes would keep you safely tucked in bed.” His smile was large and infectious, and Jared found himself smiling back.

“I have the pajamas which you were so insistent on.”

“I thought those would definitely keep you in the room; you were certainly vocal in your protest. I had to keep checking that you hadn’t developed red hair.”

Jared felt a hot flash of anger, and he started to snap back when he noticed the gentleness in Ryan’s eyes. “Sorry.” Jared blushed and lowered his head.

“I was teasing,” Ryan said gently and pulled Jared from the window alcove. “You’ll have to get used to my sense of humor. And I really don’t bite unless you like that sort of thing.”

“Ryan,” Atticus chided.

“Right, I forgot. You like to pretend that I don’t work in a male sex club.”

“I’m sure Gordon appreciates you calling it that, and you do have a day job, with teenagers no less.”

“Guidance counselor at teen hell otherwise known as high school by day and guardian of the submissive by night. Not bad gigs.”

Jared stared at Ryan; he couldn’t imagine Ryan as a guidance counselor. Jared had avoided his like the plague; he’d always smelled of cigarettes and cheap after shave or maybe the smell had been the hair gel he’d used to hold his three strands of hair over his bald spot.

“I clean up well,” Ryan said. “I’m openly a dominant here. This is my world, but at school I’m just an ordinary guy. You wouldn’t know, or maybe you would. You’re strongly submissive, and you might react to me even when I’m trying to keep it under the surface.”

“You know nothing about me,” Jared spat.

“Submissive is not an epithet.” Ryan pulled Jared close and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m very in love with a redheaded submissive. He is my other half.”

“Get off me. I don’t want to be your submissive.”

Ryan dropped his arms, but didn’t step away. He was still close, dangerously close. Jared could see the sinews and the muscles, the slight rippling of Ryan’s shirt as his chest pushed the air in and out of his lungs. Jared wanted to move away from this man who stirred a peculiar mix of attraction, fear, and even utter revulsion within Jared, but the window was behind him and Atticus flanked him. He was trapped in the corner. Jared drew a breath and tried to look both casual and in charge. He should be practiced at that; it was the expression he used when a resident flipped, not that it worked out well in those situations either. He’d failed with Caleb. After he’d drawn blood on Jared, his relatives moved him to a more secure facility.

Ryan snapped his fingers in Jared’s face. “Stay with me. I took my hands off. Do you want them back on?”

“Leave me alone,” Jared snarled.

“Not with that look in your eyes,” Ryan said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The last time I saw that look a kid walked out of my office and put his hand through a plate glass window. I had to listen to the superintendent lecture me for three hours, and I couldn’t tell him that the only way I would’ve kept that kid’s fist out of the window was turn his butt three shades of red. That’s not exactly PC in a high school.” Ryan smiled again, and this time it flickered across his eyes.

“I’m not planning to put my hand through a window,” Jared said in a controlled and clipped tone. He was OK; he was in control.

“No?” Ryan said in a half question. “Braining me with a baseball bat might be more fun.”

“I don’t approve of violence.”

“It still might be fun.” 

Ryan was baiting him. Jared could hear it in the tease of his voice and see it in the grin that played around his mouth. Jared wasn’t going to fall for it. 

“All right,” Ryan said after a minute of strained silence. “I thought you were going to let me have it. I must be hanging around my volatile boy too much.” Ryan’s voice softened. “I’m safe for that sort of thing if you need to, and no one will hold it against you.”

Jared realized he was shaking. He bit his lip hard, trying to ground himself with the pain.  What was wrong with him? “I need to go,” he said with a force and bluster that felt alien to him as he tried to push by Ryan.

“Wait.” Atticus reached out and placed his hand on Jared’s arm. He didn’t grab Jared; the gesture was almost tentative, but Jared stopped, feeling his will dissolve. 

“What’s the matter with me?” Jared heard his voice; it was hardly recognizable. He was the controlled one; he stopped the bickering over the last packet of sugar or phony creamer while calmly explaining to the pharmacist for the fifth time that he had sent capsules when the resident would only swallow liquids.

“Mental and physical overload,” Ryan said as if that were an intelligible reason to turn into a blithering idiot. “Our brains handle novel stimuli far better when they are not already overwhelmed with exhaustion. Back to bed with you.”

“No.” My God, Jared sounded like he was about three. 

“Yes,” Ryan said implacably. “Atticus can walk you back to your room. You seemed to be getting along well together until I came in and gummed up the works, or I can carry you, kicking and screaming.” Ryan grinned. “The latter would be a hell of a lot of fun, but none too private in this joint. Blade would want to hear about it in full Technicolor detail at least three times, and he usually wears his welcome out on most people by the second time around.”

Perversely, Jared wanted to throw himself down on the floor, curl into a ball, and make them untangle his limbs. “I’ll walk.”

“Good boy. Atticus that’s your cue. Put your arm over the boy’s shoulder and walk him home.”

Atticus looked uncomfortable as he dropped an arm over Jared’s shoulders, more uncomfortable than Jared felt. “I think he’d take me in a fight,” Atticus whispered in Jared’s ear.

Jared smiled. He couldn’t stop himself; his moods were like a wild mouse ride zigzagging in all directions. Ryan looked like he could take most anyone in a fight; Milton might be a challenge. Milton was broad and tall and looked like he didn’t give ground easily, but Ryan was younger and nearly matched in height. Atticus was a slender sapling bowing in the breeze compared to those two. “It’d be the quickest fight in history.”

“Are you making fun of my physical prowess?” Atticus asked, guiding Jared around Ryan who had stepped aside in the perfect picture of decorum.

“Yeah,” Jared said, biting back a grin. 

“Behave yourself.” Atticus ruffled Jared’s hair.

“Damn,” Ryan muttered. “I should never bet against Blade. He said forty-eight hours. I wonder what he’ll do to me this time.”

“What?” Atticus asked in a refined tone that Jared was beginning to realize covered a sharp sense of humor.

“Oh, nothing,” Ryan said dismissively. “I’ve just lost another bet. I should never bet with Blade; it’s dangerous.”

“What was the wager?”

“How long it would take you two to get together. My two weeks is way out of the running.” Ryan grinned and blew them a kiss. “Landon had this figured out before he even saw the two of you together. That man must be psychic.”

Jared flushed and tried to pull away. Atticus in a surprise move pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “So you two think you know everything.” Atticus’s hand came around the back of Jared’s head, steadying them as their lips met.” The kiss was soft and gentle and left Jared wanting more. 

“I’m dead. You’ve known each other what? Five hours.” Ryan shook his head. “Never will I bet against Landon and Blade again.”