Negotiantions 3

Negotiations III 

Ryan grabbed Sheldon’s wrist and pulled him from the room and up the stairs. Ryan’s pace was quick, not giving Sheldon a chance to think or resist. They raced by the landing and the window that looked out into the gray and bare branches of the winter trees. The attic door squeaked open and their feet clattered on the unfinished floor. The trunk sat in the middle of the floor; it couldn’t even be covered with out of date textbooks or lamps that were last stylish thirty years ago and needed new shades and new wiring. The trunk, menacing in its bulk, sat alone, waiting for Sheldon.

“The key.” Ryan held his hand out.

Sheldon gulped and for a moment considered fleeing down the steps and away. But to where? Ryan was fast and big. He’d catch Sheldon for sure, and if by some act of fate Sheldon eluded his grip, Milton would not be thwarted. Sheldon would freeze at a single real growl. He might tease and provoke, and act like he flirted with disobedience, but he was Milton’s. Milton wanted this; Milton thought this was best for both of them. Sheldon lifted the key from around his neck and laid it in Ryan’s outstretched palm.

“Thank you.” Ryan studied Sheldon for a moment, not moving to unlock the dreaded box. His eyes were watchful, but kind. What had Blade said as he ran through the house, the towel around his waist only half hiding the welts from Ryan’s whip? 

“There wasn’t a mean bone in Ryan’s body,” Blade had bragged.

 Ryan liked whips; he expected Blade to be at his feet. He made Blade do the chores, be his houseboy, and Milton said that Blade wanted it.

“Ryan is not unreasonable or unfair. Your brother needs to submit in ways that would make you come at me with an ice pick. It’s not wrong; it’s only different from my expectations for you. It brings them both great pleasure.”

Sheldon stared at Ryan, the thick muscles, the beautifully chiseled features, and he’d never looked underneath. “You love my brother?”

“Sheldon, did you doubt that?” Ryan’s voice wasn’t accusatory, only soft and questioning.

He had. He’d thought Blade was Ryan’s trophy, a beautiful plaything.

“Oh, kid,” Ryan said with a sympathy that Sheldon didn’t deserve. “How could you be even halfway civil if you thought I wasn’t for real?”

“Milton likes you, said it was OK.” Sheldon scuffed his shoe along the floor. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He’d been an idiot; blind to what was now so obvious.

“And you obey Milton underneath despite all your pretend resistance. You’re his submissive, and you know and understand its beauty.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” Ryan’s fingers stroked over Sheldon’s hair, a brief gesture of praise and reassurance. Sheldon had seen Ryan do it thousands of times with Blade.

Sheldon shifted and shoved a hand in his pocket. He hadn’t realized he’d placed both hands behind his back and grasped one wrist in a classic submissive pose. “Oh.” He seemed incapable of forming his lips around more than that single unintelligible syllable.

“Relax.” Ryan smiled. “I’m not going to snap my fingers and send you to the floor. You can show me whatever side of yourself you want. I don’t expect or require that you submit to me. Civil would be nice.”

“Sorry. I’ve been an ass.” Sheldon knew the flush was bright on his cheeks. 

“Pretty much,” Ryan said with an easiness that was far more than Sheldon deserved. Ryan wrapped his arm around Sheldon’s neck and pulled him close. “I don’t really mind because I know you’re more than what you’ve shown me, but tone it down in front of your brother.”

Sheldon twisted and burrowed against Ryan. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Ryan’s hug was strong, warm, and right. He was Sheldon’s family now too. “Good boy.” Ryan held Sheldon for several minutes before he untangled himself from the slighter man. “Should we find out what’s in the trunk?”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t hide from me again.” Ryan effortlessly pushed Sheldon to arm’s length and let his eyes examine every millimeter of Sheldon’s face. “Orders will be easier. Go sit on the sofa.” Ryan pointed to the broken down loveseat. It should have gone to the jumble or maybe even the trash, but it had never left the attic. The house was crowded and noisy, and Sheldon knew that Mace would retreat to the solitude and the smell of dust and cedar and old wool. It wasn’t a stable, but it must be close enough.

Sheldon dropped onto the sofa and wrapped his arms around his knees. Ryan fitted the key and lifted the heavy lid. Sheldon couldn’t see anything yet, but he thought he smelled leather and harness oil or maybe it was his over active imagination. Ryan placed several bundles wrapped in cloth on the floor.

“Let’s see what we have.”

Ryan unwound the first cloth. It was soaked in oil the way Sheldon’s dad put the baseball gloves away every season. Sheldon remembered the smell of Neatsfoot oil and the hint of spring with the first thud of the baseball against his glove.

“Beautiful,” Ryan said almost reverently and held up the cuffs. Even from the sofa, Sheldon could see the dark leather, soft and strong with brass buckles. “Maybe,” Ryan said and set them aside. 

“I don’t do bondage.”

“Have you ever tried?”

Sheldon shook his head and hugged his knees tighter.

“It’s hard for a Zath to be still,” Ryan said softly, “but it has its rewards.” Ryan reached for the next bundle, and Sheldon heard a clank as if metal pieces were striking together. “Not yet. I don’t think so.”

“What are they?” Sheldon was torn between getting up and the safety of Ryan’s orders and the sofa.

“Sounds.”

“Oh, God!”

“Shh. Not my favorite either, but maybe everyone should try it once. It is different.”

“You’ve done that to Blade?”

“No. He has to ask if he wants me to do it. I do know how. Gavin had me taught, and I more than know how they feel.” Ryan made a face.

“Do you think Milton wants to?”

“You’ll have to ask, and Milton said to choose what you want. Do you want to try these?”

“No!” Sheldon couldn’t help but draw his knees closer to protect those vulnerable areas.

Ryan unwrapped the third package, shaking out the long strands. He ran his hand through the strands, stroking the leather. “This would feel good.”

“Scary,” Sheldon mumbled. 

Ryan stood and flicked the flogger over Sheldon’s thigh only hard enough to be a whisper or a promise. “Good scary--maybe?”

Sheldon nodded, not taking his eyes from the strands. What would that feel like on his ass and back? He reached out and let his fingers play through the buttery soft leather.

Ryan smiled and kissed Sheldon’s forehead. “Imagine being exposed for Milton, the soft leather across your back, the warmth of the lash. Milton’s good boy.”

“I’ll like it?”

“You will.”

“You’ve felt it?”

“Many times. Gavin’s very good with floggers and knew I liked it.”

“Blade?”

“Sometimes but he prefers the sharpness of the whip.” Ryan smiled again. “So we have one maybe and one drop the things in a well and forget about them. Let’s see what else we can find.”

Ryan knelt and unwrapped the next package. His fingers stroked the item that Sheldon couldn’t see. “Exquisite,” Ryan whispered. “I had no idea.”

“What is it?”

Ryan stood and let the whip unfurl down his legs the cracker resting at his feet. “Beautiful craftsmanship.” He balanced the handle in his hand and with a blur of his wrist snapped the whip against the floor. The sound reverberated on the uninsulated walls of the attic.

“No,” Sheldon whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the black and red horror in Ryan’s hand. 

“Not right now. When you’re ready, Blade and I will show you.”

“Never.”

“Don’t say that,” Ryan said gently. “You’d be beautiful under the lash.”

And terrified, Sheldon thought. He wasn’t a masochist; he didn’t do that kind of pain.

“It doesn’t have to hurt more than the paddle,” Ryan said, seeming to read Sheldon’s mind. “If you want marks like Blade it hurts, but it can also be only a flick and a touch of warmth.”

“No,” Sheldon said more boldly. 

“I know.” Ryan coiled the whip and carefully rewrapped it. He reached back into the trunk, his head dipping into its depth and pulled out more wrapped bundles. “You unwrap this.” He pushed a package into Sheldon’s lap.

Sheldon felt the package. He couldn’t tell through the layer of cloth. He hoped it wasn’t a whip; one was enough. 

“Unwrap it. Don’t torture yourself.”

Sheldon’s fingers scrabbled at the cloth. It was a paddle, smooth leather on one side and soft fur on the other. He stroked his fingers down the fur.

“You’ll like that.” Ryan’s grin was wide and bright, and Sheldon couldn’t help but smile back. “Put it with the flogger. We only need one more.”

Ryan opened the next bundle; his hand paused over the flat box before he opened it. Sheldon strained to catch a glimpse of what Ryan seemed to be hiding with his body. Sheldon’s breath caught in his throat and his fingers went instinctively to his bare neck. It was a collar, not fancy gold, but thin rolled leather that looked soft and horrifyingly inviting. 

“Blade’s collared,” Sheldon said, his eyes still on the leather.

“He is.” Ryan hesitated, his eyes searching Sheldon as if looking for clues. “Is it something you want?”

“I don’t know.” Sheldon hugged himself tighter. What would it be like to feel Milton’s collar on his neck all the time, to wear a symbol of ownership and submission.

“You need to talk to Milton. That’s a decision for both of you.”

“May I touch it?”

Ryan handed Sheldon the box. Sheldon lifted it from its silent and lonely hiding place. He drew it across his palm: soft, oiled, somehow perfect.

“Blade’s collared,” Sheldon repeated.

“Blade needs a tangible reminder that he’s at my side, that he’s my cherished and loved boy. It’s a reminder of his place in the world.”

“He’s more submissive than I am.”

Ryan shook his head. “Not really. He displays it differently. You pretend to resist; you pretend it’s about some bizarre form of behavioral modification, but it’s about submission.”

“I’m not a doormat.”

“Is Blade?”

“No.” Sheldon had to say no. With all Blade’s spit and fire, he was anything but a slinking and cowed submissive. “He’s at your feet. He cleans up after you.”

“The service; it bothers you?”

“I’m not the hired help.”

“Neither is Blade. He takes pleasure in creating an environment we can both enjoy.” Ryan smiled a quick and fleeting grin. “It surprised the hell out of me. I didn’t think he’d be into service, and I could care less.”

“It wasn’t your idea?”

“No.” Ryan grinned again, looking boyish and impossibly innocent for a man who worked at The Forest and swung whips around. “I have a terrific lover and a spotless apartment. I can’t complain.” Ryan dropped his voice to a more serious tone. “Your brother winds himself up. He finds the service self-regulating, and I’m more than happy to give him that. It means only one Blade fiasco a week and not two. I think that’s a good thing, don’t you?”

Sheldon nodded. It had been Blade’s choice. He wanted to polish silver and iron sheets. Crazy.

“Milton has to move mountains to get you to do the laundry, so I think service is out for you, boy.”

Sheldon flushed and looked down at the collar. He couldn’t be happy ironing Milton’s shirts, could he?

“Not every collared submissive does service especially with a dominant like Milton. He enjoys looking after you.”

“Should I be collared?”

“Up to you and Milton.” Ryan stood and walked to Sheldon’s side. He stroked his finger around the smooth and empty neck. “Not all submissives wear their collar all the time. Maybe when you want Milton to get out the flogger or you want to kneel at his feet and forget about everything but Milton. It might be better than dumping the gravy into my lap.”

“Ugh. Sorry.”

Ryan pushed the hair back off Sheldon’s forehead and kissed his temple. “I knew you were at your melting point, and I was provoking you a little bit because I’m a better target than your brother or your housemates. The dry cleaners will deal with the pants.”

“Milton wasn’t very happy.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t. There are better ways to get a spanking that don’t involve hot liquids and fine dining room chairs.”

Sheldon raked his fingers through his hair. “I know. That’s what Milton’s been trying to tell me.”

“Pretty much.”

“I do get it.” Sheldon fingered the collar one last time. He wasn’t a collared boy; it wasn’t for him. “I need to choose a third item.” He shut the lid firmly on the collar and handed the box to Ryan. “Interesting but not for me.”

Ryan took the box without a word; his expression said everything. He’d seen Sheldon’s longing, his weakness. “How about these?” Ryan dangled a pair of cuffs in his hand, leather with sheepskin lining and a short chain between. “They’re soft.” Ryan stroked the sheepskin. “And they’ll look good on your wrist, black leather against your pale skin.”

Sheldon reached out toward the cuffs. He’d never considered bondage. No, that wasn’t right; he’d never allowed himself to consider bondage. He’d seen the crosses and spanking benches inside the clubs with the withering subs displayed with no more privacy than the weekly specials rack at the grocery store. Only cuffs. Sheldon could handle that. 

“Soft,” Sheldon said, stroking the sheepskin.

“Try them. Milton will take good care of you.” Ryan stood and folded the other items back into their wrappings and dropped them into the trunk. The key turned with a slow scrape. “Flogger, paddle, and restraints--excellent choices. Come on.” Ryan held out his hand and pulled Sheldon to his feet.

“The others will see.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, but scanned the cluttered attic. He grabbed a shopping bag from a department store that had closed years ago, bought out by a large multi-state chain when Sheldon was only a boy.

“Put them in here. Not that anyone will care. I’ve seen a paddle on your kitchen table.”

“Only when I’m coming unglued,” Sheldon said and ducked his head, trying to hide the blush.

“I don’t hide what Blade and I do.”

“But you’re out there.”

Ryan chuckled and tousled Sheldon’s hair. “It’s nice to know that Blade and I are labeled as the family lunatics.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You did.” Ryan kissed the top of Sheldon’s head. “I don’t mind, and it’s somewhat deserved. I’ve had Blade leashed and cuffed several times at breakfast, not exactly ordinary behavior at the local diner. I dare say Trent would give me the boot if I tried it at his place.”

“He’d drag you into the kitchen or worse upstairs,” Sheldon said with a faint smile. “He’s not as mild as he looks.”

“So I’ve heard. Mace has some steel in him, so I expect Trent must also.”

“Mace is always good.”

“I doubt it,” Ryan said with a smile. “He lives in this family after all, and I’ve seen Trent wrap his hand around Mace’s wrist. That’s not all sweetness and light.”

“Ryan,” Sheldon said, surprised. He’d lived with that quiet pair for years. Mace was about as vanilla as they came without recoiling at the sight of a paddle. He had his once a year meltdown and otherwise behaved like a damn saint.

“Oh, yeah, it means submit right now, or I’m going to haul your ass over my knee. Blade minds Trent and so do you. He’s not a part time dominant or a weak dominant. He’s discreet, and he’s not interested in converting the world. Trent’s a dominant for those he loves because they want and need it. I don’t doubt he finds his own pleasure in making Mace happy, but he’s not Milton or me where dominance is integral to all we are.”

“He doesn’t do this.” Sheldon glanced over at the trunk. “Milton and Josh forced him into the role. He almost never touches Mace.”

“I suspect they gave Trent a push in the right direction, but he was always a dominant no matter how deeply he kept it buried, and there are many sides to dominance that have nothing to do with overt displays of force.” Ryan tapped his forehead. “Dominance and submission can be all up here, or it can be as you and Milton play, or it can be Blade’s and my version. As long as it’s honest and meets both partners’ needs, it’s all good as far as I’m concerned.”

“Milton’s pushing me not to brat.”

“No, you’re pushing yourself.”

“It’s not me who wants the fucking changes!” Sheldon hurled the words at Ryan. Life had all been good. Ryan had ruined it. It was his fault. “I hate you.” Sheldon grabbed a stray paperback with no cover and half its pages missing and chucked it at Ryan’s head.

It was an ineffective missile. Ryan easily dodged its weak flutter. “That’s enough, Sheldon.”

“No!” Sheldon scrambled back, his hand scrabbling for anything to throw.

“Stop it,” Ryan growled and with speed and force pinned Sheldon’s wrist together and drove him backward into the wall. “I said enough.”

Sheldon looked up into the blue eyes; the kindness and gentleness of earlier was gone. Ryan was fierce, dominant, and completely in control. Sheldon sagged against the wall and took a long shuddering breath. “Sorry.”

“Do you feel better now?”

Better? He was pinned against the wall by the great bulk of his brother’s boyfriend. Sheldon drew another breath. He did feel better.

“That’s right.” Ryan’s free hand stroked through Sheldon’s hair. “Give into it. You don’t have to have the production of throwing the dinner rolls or launching yourself at me with mad fury. That’s what Milton’s trying to tell you. He can take you down without all the dramatics. He’s your dominant; you can have more submission just by asking.”

Sheldon nodded. He was trying to get his whirring thoughts to come to some semblance of order. He could feel the roughness of the attic wall through his sweater, the steady pressure of Ryan’s hand on his wrists, and Ryan’s breath against his cheek. All that was real and tangible.

Ryan’s hand pressed against Sheldon’s chest. “Slow breaths. I’ve got you.”

“I’m Milton’s,” Sheldon tried to snap, but it came out soft almost lethargic.

“Without a doubt,” Ryan said with a gentle smile. “I’m only a guest here, but you’re my family, and I’m a bossy son of a bitch who’s going to interfere when he sees family in distress. You have to cope with that; I’m not changing it.” 

“Got it,” Sheldon said with an attempt at a smile. “I’m OK now.”

“You won’t be really OK until you and Milton have some time together, but I think I’m safe from flying objects.”

Sheldon nodded, feeling the heat rise up his face. He hadn’t planned to throw that book; it had just happened.

Ryan kissed Sheldon’s forehead, released the pressure on his wrists, and took one step back, freeing Sheldon’s shoulders from the wall. Sheldon let his hands drop and rubbed at his wrists, They didn’t hurt, but he could still feel Ryan’s strength as he’d held them above Sheldon’s head.

“Sore?” Ryan asked.

“No. Sorry.”

Ryan looped an arm around Sheldon’s neck and tugged him close. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re in a state of flux. Change is hard for everyone. You had one way to get your needs, and it worked beautifully for years, but you’re no longer that twenty something boy who can brat with abandon, but your need to feel Milton’s palm across your ass is just as great.”

“You hate it when I brat.”

“Sheldon, you’re not mine. You don’t have to please me.”

“I like to brat.”

“I know, but it’s hardly appropriate when you’re entertaining clients from your work or supporting Milton at a formal dinner in Vermont, and it is at those times you’re most desperate to submit. Milton wants to give you more ways to submit; he’s not saying you can’t brat.”

“I like throwing dinner rolls in a tux.”

“You’re impossible, boy.” Ryan swatted Sheldon’s hip, making no attempt to keep him in place or to do more than land a soft pat.

“I’m a good impossible.” Sheldon said with a half grin. He knew what Ryan was saying, and maybe he could try, but this side he understood. The tease, the game was his lifeline to sanity.

“The best.” Ryan’s tousled Sheldon’s hair before catching Sheldon’s chin’s and forcing his eyes to Ryan’s face. “Changes are hard; think about when you first became Milton’s boy. It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Yes was inadequate. Sheldon didn’t want to remember the time before Milton, a melange of chaos. Milton had known; he’d prodded and guided Sheldon in the right direction. “I need this,” Sheldon said very softly. “Milton’s taking me here because I need more.”

“You both do,” Ryan, said and pulled Sheldon into the easy comfort of Ryan’s chest. “Let’s go find him, and you guys can have some fun. You deserve it.”