Negotiations 2

Negotiations II

Sheldon thunked his head against the wall. The corner wasn’t any better than it had been this morning. Over the last ten days, he’d seen every corner in the house, some of them in triplicate. Milton was on the warpath, and Sheldon was fed up.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do what Milton wanted. The key pressed coldly into his chest. After he’s lost it twice and after a solid, un-fun spanking, Milton had made him wear the damn thing around his neck. Sheldon could feel the hot tears pressing at his eyelids. He blinked and swiped viciously at his face. He wasn’t crying. He was angry; he had a right to be angry. He wasn’t kinky. Milton had no right to insist he play those games. He couldn’t open the trunk. He’d tried. He’d climbed the long stairs to the attic and had walked through Trent and Mace’s apartment with their comfortable leather furniture and big bed with the striped Hudson Bay blankets and cozy kitchen with the shiny copper pots on the wall. The floor of the attic had creaked and shuddered as he’d walked near the trunk. He hadn’t opened it; he didn’t want to look.

“Sheldon?” 

Sheldon almost jumped. He hadn’t heard the footsteps. 

“Sheldon, can I help?”

You could go away forever with your gentle voice and horrible whips, Sheldon thought. The stripes had been red and angry on Blade’s butt this week. Blade let Ryan whip him. He let Ryan raise welts on his skin.

“I’ve never seen you this upset. You and Milton usually fit together like two dancers in an elegant and perfect ballet. Right now it’s painful to watch.”

“I’m not allowed to talk in the corner,” Sheldon snarled. Ryan was too close. Sheldon could see his hulking shadow out of the corner of his eye. Couldn’t he leave him alone? He’d ruined everything.

“I have Milton’s permission,” Ryan said mildly.

“You don’t have mine.”

“Will you give it to me?”

“Why? You wreck everything. You hurt my little brother. You whip him; he has marks on him. I hate you. I hate everything you want. Milton’s mad at me. Just fuck off!” Sheldon drew a long, gasping breath; his body vibrated with fury. He was fine before. Why did Milton have to change things?

“May I touch you?”

He would anyway. Tops just took that right. Why was he bothering to ask?

Ryan hadn’t moved. Sheldon turned to face him. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

“Only with your permission. I want to make this better. I want to tuck you against my chest and hang on until you feel better. You’re my lover’s brother; I don’t want you in pain.”

Sheldon wanted to curse or smash Ryan’s face in or at least kick him in the balls, but Ryan was so still; his eyes were so compassionate. Ryan shifted, or maybe Sheldon only imagined it, but his chest looked inviting, a safe haven to rub against the worn sweatshirt, to bury his face in that strength.

The hug was crushing, like Milton’s but different. Ryan didn’t smell the same; Sheldon’s body didn’t fit perfectly.

“Now that you’ve come I’m not letting go for a while.” Ryan’s voice was warm and kind and right in Sheldon’s ear. “Am I this difficult for you?”

Yes, Sheldon wanted to shout, but wrapped tightly in Ryan’s arms it didn’t feel impossible or overwhelming. Ryan didn’t feel like the ogre who put stripes on his brother. He felt solid and gentle, not Milton, but still a top to be trusted, a man who Sheldon could hang on to and who would set the world right.

“Talk to me. You’re obviously not talking to Milton right now. What did he do?”

“Nothing.” It was all Sheldon could manage. Of course it wasn’t nothing. It was everything. Milton wanted him to ask. He wanted to use those perverse things in the trunk.

“You’re living in the corner, and you’re moving mighty stiffly. Nothing doesn’t quite work.” Ryan ran his hand, heavy and warm, up and down Sheldon’s back. “Come on, boy. Spill it.” Ryan paused and rubbed Sheldon’s back. “Come on, kid.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And right now you need comfort. What does Milton want?”

“You whip Blade.” Muffled in Ryan’s shirt, the accusation was soft, not the hurled words that Sheldon had heard in his head.

“We both like it.”

“It leaves marks.”

“Hmm. And that bothers you.”

“You hurt my brother.” Sheldon struggled in Ryan’s arms. He wanted away; this was the man who whipped his brother.

“I don’t whip Blade because I’m angry or disappointed or disapprove of his behavior I whip him because he likes it and he’s mine. I enjoy seeing my marks on him, and your brother enjoys the feeling. You want Milton to spank you.”

“I don’t. He spanks me to keep me from doing insane things.”

Ryan made a sharp hissing sound. It was either a rebuke or he’d suddenly developed a bad case of laryngitis. 

“I don’t like to be whipped.”

“That’s more honest. Good boy. ” Ryan threaded his fingers through the red hair and lifted Sheldon’s head. “I get this. I know you like to be spanked. No one could get themselves in as much hot water as you who didn’t like it. Shh. Listen. You don’t like it when Milton’s truly mad or disappointed, but you like the tease. You like tweaking the tiger’s tail. We all know it’s not about leaving wet clothes in the dryer for three days or bolting around the grocery store like a toddler. It’s about submission, closeness, surrender.”

“I don’t want to be hurt.”

“Even a little? Sometimes?” Ryan tucked Sheldon against his chest and under his chin. Sheldon had seen his brother in this position many times, protected and surrounded by Ryan. “Milton’s too good a man to spank someone who didn’t want it at some level.”

Sheldon swallowed and let himself be held by Ryan. He knew; God he knew, but he didn’t want to admit it. Milton didn’t make him admit it; at least he hadn’t until now. They both knew; they weren’t idiots, and Sheldon wasn’t a child.

“You’re older; you have more responsibilities now. You need more from Milton than being the brat.” 

“I don’t top from the bottom; I’m not disrespectful of Milton. He’s my lover.”

“Easy.” Ryan tightened his arms, effectively pinning Sheldon against him. “I know you love Milton, and you’re a beautiful couple. It will be years before I get Blade the way Milton gets you,” Ryan was speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. “You do top from the bottom, or at least what to outsiders looks like topping from the bottom. Milton’s aware of it and allows it, so maybe topping’s not the correct term. You misbehave so you will get spanked. You brat.”

“I like to brat.” Sheldon knew his voice sounded defensive, high, and immature. “Who gave you the right to say it’s wrong? You beat my brother.”

“Stop it, Sheldon. Don’t try to provoke me. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you like!” Sheldon shouted. Ryan should swat him for that or shove him back into the damn corner.

“I’m sure Milton doesn’t approve of that tone or language,” Ryan said slowly and deliberately. “And you care about my opinion and most importantly you care about Milton’s opinion or you wouldn’t be this upset. You’re a submissive; you want the approval of your dominant.”

“You don’t know what I want,” Sheldon spat. He struggled against Ryan. He couldn’t move the man. Ryan’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was as solid as any concrete wall. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“You’re not my master. You don’t have any right.”

“I’m your brother-in-law. I care.”

Ryan’s voice was impossibly calm. Sheldon found himself obeying. That tone worked with him. Milton did it when Sheldon was at his wildest; Gordon did it, and now Ryan. Ryan’s voice was soft and deep with only the faintest trace of his New York accent. It sunk into Sheldon’s bones and muscles, making him still and defenseless, stripping him of his will to resist.

“Let me go.” Sheldon knew it came out more like a whimper than a demand.

“That’s the last thing you want.” Ryan’s voice was warm, the sound of a snug throw, a crackling fire, and a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day. Hot chocolate didn’t have sound. 

“Ryan.” Sheldon knew his voice was a half sob. He wanted to shut his eyes and have it all go back to the way it was before. He didn’t want to open the trunk; he didn’t want to ask Milton to spank him. Sheldon didn’t do those things. 

“It’s not that bad. What does Milton want?”

Sheldon reached for the key around his neck. “He wants this.”

“A key? Is he going to lock you in a tower and throw away the key?”

“No. It’s not funny.” Sheldon struggled against Ryan’s arms.

“Settle. It was a bad joke.” Ryan pitched his voice to a soothing tone. “What’s the key for?”

“Milton’s trunk.”

Ryan waited silently as if he was hoping that Sheldon would continue. “What’s in the trunk?” he prodded at last.

“Things.”

“Things?” Ryan echoed.

“Like you and Blade have.”

“Do you mean sex toys and bondage gear?”

Sheldon knew his face was flaming red, surely a likeness of his hair. Why couldn’t he talk about these things? Milton spanked him; everyone in this house knew that. Sheldon obeyed Milton; he submitted to Milton. Why did his brain insist on stumbling over that word? Spanking wasn’t about punishment, not really, not the way most people thought of punishment. God he knew that; he told all the babies that. He shouldn’t need to pretend.

“What does Milton want you to do with them?” Ryan’s voice was calm and steady. It was impossible to remain frantic pressed into that massive chest with that quiet voice in Sheldon’s ear. Ryan was good at this; he was damn good at this. “Good boy. That’s it. What does Milton want?” Ryan repeated.

“He wants me to choose three. He wants me to admit I want it.”

“You do,” Ryan said flatly. “You’ve been in this game far too long to only consider it as punishment. And I know you are far too intelligent and capable to need the threat of Milton spanking you to behave as a mature adult. You hold a good job; your brother adores you. Milton thinks the world of you.”

“My boss hates me. Milton spends all his time in Vermont.” Sheldon hadn’t meant to say anything. Those words had spilled out of his mouth uncontrolled and unbidden.

Ryan lifted Sheldon and sat them both down on the sofa. A fire was crackling behind the grate, trying to make the study look cheerful and not the place of Sheldon’s destruction. This is where Milton cornered Sheldon if it was going to be a long ordeal, out of the traffic pattern and near Milton’s precious books.

“Milton’s trying to make it easier for you. He’s trying to give you a way to deal with your stress.”

“It’s not! It’s worse!” Sheldon shouted, his voice rising to embarrassingly high octaves. “I don’t play that way.”

“Why not? Why don’t you like it?”

“I don’t like whips. I’m not a sex maniac.”

“And I am?” Ryan asked with a deep rumble in his throat. “But I’ll admit I like whips.”

Sheldon twisted in Ryan’s lap, staring at those bright blues eyes and the slight smile on his lips. Ryan didn’t look like someone Sheldon imagined into leather. He was kind, respectable; for fuck’s sake the guy was a school teacher. 

“I don’t know,” Sheldon mumbled, dropping his eyes and feeling another wave of color wash over his face.

“Sheldon, why are you so afraid of whips and straps? Did something happen--before Milton?” Ryan’s big hand was on Sheldon’s neck, reassuring and restraining at the same time.

“Not before Milton. No one touched me before Milton. They hurt.”

“Milton swings a wicked paddle. I know that must hurt plenty. The whip is a delicate tool; it’s not about brutalizing the submissive.”

“You leave marks on Blade.”

“I do,” Ryan said calmly as if he were discussing the color of the wallpaper. “It helps Blade make it through the week, and we both enjoy looking at them. Does Blade act terrorized by me?”

“No.” Sheldon wanted to say yes, but the image of Blade scampering through the house and leaping into Ryan’s arms made the lie impossible to utter. Blade adored Ryan; only an idiot could miss that.

“Do you want Milton to mark you?”

“No.”

“You did this.” Ryan ran his hand over Sheldon’s chest and tugged at a nipple ring through Sheldon’s shirt.

“Don’t,” Sheldon gasped and jerked away from Ryan’s hand.

“No more,” Ryan said and lifted his hand. “It’s not my right; I only wanted to see your response. Does Milton play with them?”

“No, won’t let him.” Sheldon smoothed his shirt and ducked his head. Milton had tried to catch the rings in his teeth, and Sheldon had flipped out. Milton had been so kind, so gentle after that. He’d wrapped Sheldon in his strong arms and pressed tiny kisses to his face and neck. Milton hadn’t touched them since.

“Sheldon,” Ryan chided, “you’re missing the best part.”

“I scared myself.” Sheldon clamped his teeth together more treacherous words. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?

“The same thing with the whip?” Ryan asked, his arms suddenly impossibly tight around Sheldon. 

Sheldon shook his head. “Worse,” he mumbled, burrowing against Ryan. Sheldon didn’t want to talk about it. He could still feel Milton’s disappointment coupled with the sting of the belt across his ass. 

“Milton did it? He’s so careful.” Ryan’s voice was soft almost unsure.

“I deserved it. It wasn’t Milton; it was me.” Sheldon knew he was crying; he could feel the tears running down his cheeks. 

“Tell me.” Ryan’s voice was kind, but insistent.

“You know I don’t drink.” Sheldon swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears, trying not to fall apart into a ridiculous sobbing heap. “I drove drunk.”

“And Milton punished you with a whipping,” Ryan filled in. “The only time?”

Sheldon nodded. “Belt,” he choked, swallowing his tears.

“Milton doesn’t punish you often, not for real.” Ryan’s voice was quiet as if he were working it out aloud rather than talking to Sheldon. “You both hated it. It hurt both of you. It, of course, did what it was supposed to do because you don’t drink and drive, but even done right-- and I’m sure Milton did it right. He’s too damn good of dominant not to have done it right--you’re still both drowning in a heap of fallout. Sheldon.” Ryan’s voice sharpened and he caught Sheldon’s chin in his massive hand. “This is not why I use the whip on Blade; it’s not about punishment; it’s about us. The whip doesn’t have to mean never again. I can’t explain it better, but you feel it. It’s why you go over Milton’s knee so often.” Ryan caught the key between his fingers. “This is not about punishment. It’s about you and Milton. It’s about dealing with the shit in your job and Milton chasing after a dozen baby submissives. It’s about both of you. Come on.” Ryan tumbled Sheldon off his lap. “Let’s go find something fun in the trunk.”