Ryan's Attention

Ryan’s Attention

“Blade, will you stop with the channel changing. I’m starting to have spots on my eyes.”

“I’m bored. It’s been icing for two days. Not snow, but fucking ice.”

Ryan knew. Yesterday Milton and Tilden had managed a fragile peace. Today, well, it was another story. Mike was wearing a shirt color that had to have been Tilden’s choice, and Luke had only spoken in Russian. Trent and Mace had disappeared upstairs to supposedly work out new recipes, and Ryan didn’t want to think about Milton and Sheldon. Something with shouts, door slamming, and tears.

“I thought you liked this movie,” Ryan said, glancing at a motorboat bursting into flames.

Blade shrugged, his face petulant. “I’ve seen it fifty times. Can’t we go to the movies or something?”

“Blade, it takes crampons to walk to the mailbox.”

“I hate this. Sheldon’s crying. Mike’s in a snit, and Luke’s all clingy. And Mace and Trent are boring themselves to tears.” Blade grabbed the pillow from the sofa and threw it deliberately hard at Ryan and his carefully sorted papers.

Ryan caught the missile. He’d been expecting it, not that he was pleased. “Here. Now.” Ryan snapped his fingers. Blade came over, his face a mixture of apprehension and almost relief. “Yes, you have my attention now,” Ryan said, tangling his fingers in Blade’s hair. “And you’re right to be a little afraid. You don’t brat for my attention.”

“Yes, Ryan.” Blade swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his pale throat, his eyes impossibly huge and pleading.

“Transfer the grades to my marking book.” Blade hated repetitive tasks; this would be real punishment. Ryan understood the motivation, but he wasn’t going to reward the behavior, not with Blade. If his boy settled, they would play. He needed and wanted it too. He’d graded himself into a near daze, but he hadn’t heard footsteps on the stairs. He needed the attic and privacy.

Ryan bent his head back to the final few papers. He was watching Blade as much as he was reading the test answers. Blade’s head was down, and he was carefully transcribing the grades, but he was swallowing hard and Ryan thought he heard a suppressed sniffle. Damn! He hadn’t wanted to punish Blade today. He knew his boy had cabin fever; they both did.

Ryan threw the last graded paper on the stack. He was finished, and he’d heard Trent’s and Mace’s voices on the stairs a few minutes ago. The coast was clear. “You done?” He knew Blade was finished. Ryan had seen his boy total the last column before closing the book and sitting quietly against Ryan’s leg. His boy was trying.

“Yes, Ryan.”

“Come with me.” Ryan stood, held out his hand, and waited for Blade to grasp it. Ryan could feel the weight of the key in his pocket. Milton had handed it to Ryan this morning with a quiet smile. Milton knew Blade; he knew the results of forced inactivity and raging cabin fever.

Ryan hurried Blade up the stairs. He didn’t want to give his boy time to think. Don’t let him prepare; don’t let him hide himself.

“Choose.” Ryan pushed the key into Blade’s hand.

“These are Milton’s.”

“Yes, and he gave me the key this morning.”

Blade looked at the trunk, at the key, everywhere but at Ryan. “Choose for me.”

Ryan caught Blade’s chin. “No, you want to play on the edge. You make the choice. I won’t do it all for you.” Ryan kissed Blade’s forehead. “I’ll be in the hall. Get me when you’re ready.” 

Ryan sat on the top step, his hands loosely wrapped around his knees. This needed to be Blade’s choice. Blade was a genius at reading people; Ryan didn’t want Blade reading him, choosing what Ryan wanted. Ryan chose enough; Blade needed to know and understand the independence allowed of a submissive. Great in theory, but this waiting was hell.

“I’m ready.” Blade’s eyes were bright, but his hands were shoved in his pocket, and he was worrying his lip. The boy was scared.

“It can’t be all that bad.”

“You’ll see,” Blade said softly.”

Ryan followed Blade back into the attic. “That’s going to hurt,” Ryan said, his eyes on the cane on the sofa. The dragon cane, even a checked swing would cause a line of blazing fire. Blade liked a little pain, but he hadn’t thought his boy was into this sort of pain. “Blade?”

“Please, sir.”

Ryan caught both Blade’s wrists, trapping them in his larger hand. “This is not punishment. I’m not angry about earlier.”  

“I know. You made me copy the grades. That was punishment.” Blade gave Ryan a tentative smile, his eyes approaching the wide pleading that Ryan usually associated with Blade in trouble. “I want your marks. I have an exam Tuesday. It’s important.”

“Milton’s the one to help you with school.”

“I know the material. It’s just...”

“You’ll still feel it Tuesday.”

“Please. I know.”

“Over the sofa and hang on.”

Ryan smoothed the trousers over Blade’s perfect ass. Bare he was afraid he might cut his boy. And only three, but he’d make them count. Ryan had seen subs take far more, but Blade didn’t need that. He needed headspace, not torture. Ryan measured the distance and let the cane fly. The whistle and the crack came a split second before the shout.

“Keep your head down. Two more.” Ryan was quick. It would hurt; Blade would be absolutely sure he’d felt the damn thing, but Ryan wouldn’t drag it out. He cracked the cane down twice more, closing his ears to Blade’s wild shouts of pain and horror. 

“Please. Sir. No more.”

“All finished.” Ryan pulled Blade into his arms, kissing his tear soaked face. “My brave boy.”

“God that hurt.” Blade said, still gulping and choking back tears even after being buried in Ryan’s arms.

“I know,” Ryan whispered into Blade’s hair. “I know.”

“Ryan?”

“Yes,” Ryan answered softly.

“Next time I ask for something that awful, talk me out of it.”

Ryan cupped the back of Blade’s head and kissed the mussed red hair. “Did it help? Will it help Tuesday?”

“Yes,” Blade said after a moment. “But fuck it hurts.”

“Good and I know it does. Let’s go admire the stripes, and I’ll kiss them better.”

“It’s going to take more than a kiss, but we can start there.”

His boy for sure, all Zath and just a bit of a brat.