Away Again

Away Again

Sheldon sat across the table from Tilden, drinking one of Tilden’s endless cups of tea. After all these years, he thought he would get used to the tea; he still hadn’t. He’d tried it with sugar, with lemon, with jam, and with milk. He liked Tilden; he loved Tilden, but Tilden wasn’t Milton. Sheldon wanted--no, he needed... Fuck! Milton was out of town; Sheldon would just have to bear down and deal. He could make it until the weekend when Milton came home. He didn’t need it that bad. Oh, God, he did. He was stressed; every nerve jangled in his body. 

“Sheldon--”

“No, don’t,” Sheldon interrupted. “I can’t ask you to do this. I won’t ask you to do this.”

Tilden took a long, slow slip of tea. “I can do this.”

“No, I won’t ask you.” Sheldon banged the table with his fist, rattling the cups. “I’m not weak. I’m a submissive, but I’m not weak. I can hold out.”

“You can, but you don’t have to,” Tilden said softly. He ran his finger around the edge of the glass. They were drinking tea out of glasses; it was Tilden’s way. 

“You don’t like to spank; you don’t have to pretend for me. You manage it for Mike and Luke because they’re yours. I’m Milton’s.” Sheldon ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I’ll just go knock my head into the wall a few times. I’ll be fine.”

“Sheldon.” Tilden’s voice was sharp, a tone he didn’t use with Sheldon. “Boy, here now.”

Sheldon stood, still unsure. He obeyed that tone, but this was Tilden.

“Now.” Tilden clicked his fingers.

Sheldon scrambled to close the distance.Tilden was serious. There was no doubt he was going to do this.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but you do not get into a brawl with both Mike and Luke. It is not appropriate.”

“We weren’t brawling,” Sheldon said, trying to mitigate the damage. He’d wanted this, but now he couldn’t help but try to lessen the penalty. He’d been spanked hundreds of time, but still it made his throat dry and his heart pound. He stared at Tilden, willing him to change his mind, but yet also wanting to be over his knee, to feel the heat in his ass, to let go of himself.

“You know what to do.”

Sheldon knew what to do, but it never made it easier. He always fumbled with his belt and tangled in his pants legs. He pushed his pants down; he hesitated at his boxers.

“Both.”

Sheldon nodded and swallowed, trying to wet the desert in his mouth. He pushed his boxers down, and in one swift motion, Tilden had Sheldon over his knee. Tilden’s arm wrapped around his hip, and Sheldon grabbed for the rungs of the chair. He struggled, trying to find his balance. Tilden was narrower, pointier than Milton. The hair on his arm felt different; his hand was smaller. The first spank was hard. Sheldon couldn’t recover from the searing heat before the next blow fell. A flurry of spanks landed. Sheldon couldn’t stop the squeaks and then the yelps. He felt the tears building and then cascading down his face. He relaxed across Tilden’s lap. Tilden did know how to do this. Sheldon sobbed, the weight dropping away. 

“Easy. I’ve got you.” 

Tilden had stopped spanking, When had he stopped? It hurt. Tilden had fire-roasted Sheldon’s ass, but it was right. Everything was right. Sheldon slid to his knees and buried his head in Tilden’s lap. He didn’t need to check his tears. He knew Tilden would stay with him as long as necessary, the long fingers stroking through his hair, the mumbling of comfort in many languages. 

“Thank you,” Sheldon gulped between sobs.

“Shh. I know; you don’t have to tell me. I’m here for you just as Milton is here for my boys. It’s our way.”

“Thank you,” Sheldon repeated, gulping back tears and burying himself in Tilden’s embrace. This was home. He was understood and loved here. Here he could always be Sheldon, not the man he showed to others.