by A. M. Riley
“Fourteen,” said Jim. And another great hiccupping sob rose up from deep in Scott’s chest.
“Fifteen.” It was endless. They’d never reach seventeen. The paddle swished through the air again, and Scott sobbed.
There was an infinitesimal pause and then, “Sixteen.” Scott didn’t know if he imagined it or if this one was harder. A wailing cry escaped his mouth, and his whole body was shaking now, sweat pouring from his armpits.
“Seventeen,” said Jim, his voice hoarse. And Scott pressed his forehead to the leather-bound wood, his whole body shaking.
“Ten minutes”—Jim’s voice sounded strained—“and I’ll release you.” He didn’t leave the room; Scott could hear him back there. But he didn’t touch him or speak.
It took a few minutes for Scott to get hold of himself, but when he felt that peace that came from being forced to stillness, it was heightened by a kind of intense relief, waves of it rolling over him like cold water. He almost hung from his bound wrists, body going limp with it.
When Jim finally went over and unbound him, Scott turned into his waiting arms and whispered, “Thank you.”
Jim held him. Scott looked up at him and touched his face in wonder. Jim’s cheeks were wet.
“I love you,” said Jim.
Scott rested his head against that soft, warm chest and nodded. Yes.
Jim laid him down carefully, kissed him everywhere. Jim even kissed his fingertips and toes. Then he lay down, looking into Scott’s face until Scott’s eyes closed and he lost consciousness.
Chapter Ten
The smell of bacon frying is almost a religious experience to some people. Jim lifted strips with a fork with one hand while shoving eggs in another pan with the other.
Brian buttered toast. His eye was completely swollen this morning and throbbed. He’d had the raw meat application, and now his eye was covered by a big, lumpy gauze pad. He looked like a lopsided monster, and Scott felt rotten every time he looked at him.
Scott’s own eye was purply red, but Brian was a lousy fighter, and he really hadn’t done much damage. Scott’s stinging butt made him feel better, and he couldn’t help but notice that Brian was walking with extreme care.
“Lemme get you a softer pillow,” Scott said when Brian came into the kitchen, and the one good eye squinted over at him gratefully.
“Thanks.” Brian’s nose had white tape over the bridge, but at least it wasn’t broken.
Scott held out his hand in peace, but Brian just wrapped his arms around Scott’s neck pulled him over and kissed him. Brian smelled liked medicine, and it was gross, but it was the nicest kiss Scott had gotten in a long time.
“I love you, Scott,” said Brian. “I’m sorry.”
God. How could anyone not love the little monkey?
Paul was quiet and not nearly as toppy as usual during breakfast, Scott noted. Good.
There was French toast with powdered sugar and fresh blueberries and grapefruit and sausage and bacon; Scott’s tummy was stretched so tight he’d thought he’d burst when he finally put his fork down and said, “I’m done.”
“Thank goodness,” said Brian. “I thought you’d never stop eating.”
Everyone else had finished a while ago and were drinking their coffee.
“I was hungry,” Scott said.
Jim stood and gathered up the dishes. “Good. You haven’t been eating enough lately.” Jim swept the crumbs off the table, put a fresh pot of coffee down with cream and sugar, pulled up his chair, set it down so he could straddle it, and said, “So.”
Paul seemed suddenly very interested in whatever he’d gotten beneath his nails. Jim bent a hard gaze on him, though, and eventually Paul looked up.
“I guess I should start,” Paul said. “Well, first of all, working away from home half the year just isn’t working for a lot of reasons. And it’s not just Brian. It’s me. I feel guilty, and I feel pressured, and I know that Brian picks that up and doesn’t like to bother me when he has things that he needs to talk over.”
“I should do it anyway,” said Brian.
“Yes. But it’s understandable that you don’t.”
“But Brian has Jim to take care of him,” said Scott.
Jim looked at him. “He has you too.”
Scott waved that off. “Me? Heh.”
“Yes. I should have told you,” said Brian. “Some of the things I didn’t tell Paul. I was embarrassed.”
Scott stared. “Embarrassed? Goldilocks, you have seen me buck naked with a two-foot-long cherry red dildo up my ass. What are you talking about embarrassed?”
Brian’s cheeks had gone pink at the mention of the cherry red dildo. “I know.”
“And I take the responsibility for Brian upon myself too much,” said Jim. “It’s egoism, really. Brian is a capable young man and doesn’t need such close supervision.”
Damn right, thought Brian. But he knew better than to say it.
“Damn right,” said Scott, and he winked at Brian with his one good eye.
“So we’ve all been worried about letting each other down and not trusting each other enough to talk about it,” said Jim. And now he was looking directly at Scott.
“Hey,” said Scott. “How’d this get to me all of a sudden?”
“It’s not, Scott,” said Paul. “It’s all of us. We have to trust each other. We all have to trust each other.”
Scott swallowed. He tried not to look at Paul.
“I don’t blame some people for not trusting me, though,” said Paul. “Since Brian and I have been trying to hide things.”
Scott looked at Brian, who was going shades of maroon and staring at his knees.
“You really are pregnant?” asked Scott.
Brian cracked a crooked grin. “No.”
“Phew,” said Scott. “I mean, you told me you were on the pill, man.”
Brian gave Scott a discerning look. “You’re embarrassed too.”
“Yeah. Well.” Scott drummed his thumb once on the tabletop. “Jim mentioned something. Is that what this is about?”
“Some.”
“I can’t believe you’d let him do that to you, Brian,” said Scott. Bluntly.
“I would. I already did.”
Scott just sat there. “Fuck. You really are a masochist.”
Brian’s eyes went teary, and Paul immediately flushed red and jumped up to go to him. “Scott, that was…”
“Scott has a right to say what he feels,” said Jim, just as growly and protective of his cub as Paul was of Brian.
“Not if it’s intolerant. Or—”
“You have no right to shut someone up just because you don’t like what they—”
“Who are you telling me what my rights are, anyway, Jim? You have way too much interest in what goes on—”
“Oh, right, because my feelings for Brian and Scott aren’t important? I don’t—”
“Not our sex life! That is—”
“Yes, I do. I, Paul—”
“Stop it!” Brian jumped up and screeched in his best bratty voice. Glass rattled. He stomped his foot. “Both of you stop fighting this minute!” He stood there, bright red and breathing hard. Then he gestured at Scott. “You and me need to talk. C’mon.”
He grabbed Scott by the arm and pulled him toward Scott’s seldom used bedroom. As they disappeared round the corner, he pointed back at Paul and Jim. “One more word, and somebody will be facing a corner with soap in his mouth!” And he stomped his foot once more.
* * * *
Scott was laughing when Brian dragged him into the bedroom and shut the door. “Hiss and spit, baby. You really told them.”
“Stop it, Scott. We’ve got Jim and Paul fighting with each other! It’s awful.”
“Oh, come on, Brian. Who’s got black eyes? And who can hardly sit down this morning? You and me are the ones getting the worst of it here.”
As if reminded, Brian gingerly rubbed his backside. “Scott, you think there’s something wron
g with me, don’t you?”
“What? No, Brian, you’re fine. That snarly top of yours has a few screws loose maybe.”
“Paul never does anything I don’t want him to, Scott. You know that, right?”
Scott sat—gingerly—on the bed, his usually cheery face dead serious. “I think he makes you think you want it, maybe.”
“Scott.” Brian found himself searching the room, as if the words would pop out there somewhere. “Look, you are the only friend I have. I mean, can you imagine me inviting some of the guys from chem lab over here or something?”
Scott had never been in chem lab or known guys who had, so he couldn’t imagine it at all. “No,” he said. “I only know a bunch of white trash, so, no, I can’t.”
“What?” Brian just shook his head as if to clear it. “What?”
“Wonder what your college friends would think of you living with a redneck?”
Brian’s brow wrinkled in utter perplexity. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” But Scott had that surly look he got on his face only on rare occasions, still and closed-in looking. He’d looked like that the first time he’d told Brian he was bisexual.
“Scott. If I told anybody I know that I lived in a discipline relationship with three other men, what do you think they’d say?”
Scott knew what he had said when he’d found himself falling into this situation. He still said it to himself sometimes. “You need psychological help?”
“Exactly. You did, once, even. And again, out there in the kitchen.”
“Yeah. Um, sorry. I was surprised.”
“Nobody understands. Nobody but us. And…and if you don’t understand, Scott, well, maybe there is something wrong with me.”
Brian’s good eye was getting blurry and squinty again, and Scott couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable the other eye was feeling at this point. “Okay, don’t get your undies in a bunch,” Scott said. “I’m listening. Make me understand.”
Brian sighed. “I saw this bondage magazine at the news store a few months ago.”
“Yeah? One of those S and M rags?”
Brian blinked. “Is that what you call them?”
Scott tilted his head to one side and looked at Brian. Then he frowned and tilted it the other way, like he was trying to get Brian in focus. “You think you’re a freak.”
Brian rubbed at his one good eye, leaving grubby tear streaks on his cheeks. He sniffled.
“Oh fer…” Scott looked to heaven and grabbed Brian in a rough hug, rubbing his head. “You knucklehead.”
“Am I a masochist?”
“Fuck that, Brian. It’s just words. Like faggot and queer and fairy. You let them, they’ll get to you.”
Brian wrapped his arms around Scott, and Scott sighed and pulled him down so they sat side by side on the bed.
“I thought, is that what kind of man I am?”
Scott just held him, chin on top of Brian’s head. He remembered wondering what kind of man he was. He hadn’t always liked the answers he’d found.
“And then I saw…that. And I wanted to do it. I knew I did. And I just thought maybe I really do need counseling. Or…or…”
“Oh, Goldilocks,” said Scott. And he kissed Brian on the top of his silky mop of curls.
“And if you think it’s wrong…”
“I’m an idiot,” said Scott. “A stupid redneck. What are you listening to me for? So…when you and Paul…did that. Was it anything like the magazine?”
“No,” said Brian.
“It had to hurt.”
“Not really. It was intense, is all.”
“I just don’t like the idea of Paul doing stuff to you that’s…extreme,” said Scott. “You’re young still. You don’t know.”
“I asked him to,” said Brian.
“You did?”
“It was amazing,” said Brian. “I don’t know if I ever want to do it again, but it was amazing.”
“Oh.”
“And I always listen to you, Scott. And I don’t think my college friends, of which I have none, would think more or less of you than they do of me. Well, except you’ve got a nicer ass than mine.”
“You haven’t seen yours like I have,” Scott pointed out. But he was smiling down at Brian, and he looked pleased.
“You know white trash and redneck are just words too,” said Brian. He looked into Scott’s face. The gauze patch was crooked and droopy, and his one good eye was swollen and serious. “You’re my best friend. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
Scott kissed Brian’s nose and mouth and touched foreheads with him. “Yeah. Jerk.”
“I missed you.”
“You too, squirrel.”
“Haven’t even gotten to fuck you yet,” said Brian, letting his lip stick out in a pout. He batted his one eye at Scott. It was not sexy, but it was damned cute.
Scott jumped off the bed and just like that, snap, crackle, dropped his boxers.
Brian looked. “Nice. Where’d that come from?”
“Must have a thing for gauze bandages,” said Scott, grabbing his dick and waving it at Brian like a wand. “Care to cross swords, mister?”
* * * *
“What was that?” said Jim. “Are they fighting again?”
There was a thump. Then another. Then another and another. Thump thump thump thump.
Paul laughed. “I don’t think they’re fighting.”
* * * *
“Oh yeah,” said Scott. He panted and rocked on his knees. “God, yeah.”
Brian held him by his hips. Scott’s butt was still rosy red, and Brian didn’t want to hurt him, but the place where Brian’s cock was nestled was sheer heaven, and he didn’t want to relinquish that either.
“Oh. Oh. Right there,” groaned Scott, rolling his hips.
Brian thrust obediently Right There and felt Scott’s channel start to spasm, his friend howling. Then Brian’s eyeballs rolled right back in his head, and he came so hard he blew a hole right through part of his gray matter.
When he opened his eye, Scott was peeking down at him. One pretty honey-colored eye and one about ten different shades of ick.
“We look awful,” said Brian.
Scott flopped on the mattress next to him. “Yep.”
“It’s all the fault of those men out there.”
Scott gave this some thought as it seemed a rash statement. “How do you figure?”
“They’re supposed to be the ones that keep things from getting out of hand.”
Scott frowned. “I guess. ”
“I mean, sure I’m responsible for my actions, but Paul and Jim are responsible too.”
Scott thought about this line of reasoning. It had a certain appeal. “Hey. Yeah.”
“And you know, it’s up to us to discipline them.”
Scott raised his eyebrows dubiously. “You think?”
“We need to punish them. For their own good.”
“Why, Goldilocks, you shock me!” said Scott, a smile spreading across his battered face.
Brian laughed an evil laugh. It was a laugh that would chill the blood of any man who had ever had a clever little brat in his life. “I know just how to do it too,” he said.
Chapter Eleven
When Brian and Scott reentered the kitchen, Jim and Paul were just a little surprised to see them coming arm in arm and looking contrite.
“I’m sorry I shouted,” said Brian meekly.
“I’m sorry I spoke back,” Scott chimed in sincerely.
The two men each looked from Jim to Paul. Even with the gauze and antiseptic medicine on their faces, they looked adorable.
Well, it was a surprise—but a pleasant one.
Jim huffed and mumbled, and then Scott just went across the room and into his arms. “Oh,” said Jim. “Well, then.” He looked at Paul, an expression of bewildered happiness in his eyes.
Paul knew he had a similar expression on his face. Brian wrapped around him, face pressed to his chest,
and whispered, “Sorry.”
Whatever either Jim or Paul had been going to do with their day was quite suddenly put on the back burner as they each retired to their separate bedrooms. A little hastily.
“Let me,” whispered Brian, going to his knees in front of Paul as soon as the bedroom door was closed. He drew his daddy’s pants and briefs down as he went and immediately nuzzled Paul’s cock, his whole face rubbing in the smell and warmth.
Paul put one hand back against the closed door to keep from falling, the other on top of Brian’s head. Brian’s loose hair was tangling and clinging to Paul’s thighs and sticking to his cock and pubic area. Paul’s knees started shaking almost immediately when Brian looked up at him with that one wide innocent blue eye and wrapped those pretty cherry lips around his cock.
Brian helped Paul lie down on the bed instead of the floor, which was where Paul almost landed when his legs gave way. Brian crawled up onto the bed, stripping his clothing off as he went. Hair falling around his face, brushing Paul’s groin and stomach as he bobbed up and down, Brian looked up at Paul, the arch of his round white butt wagging in the air just behind his head. Paul groaned, threw his head back, and let Brian suck the life out of him.
Then Brian got up, daintily wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “You stay there,” he said. “I’ll get the blankets.” And he did, tucking Paul in. He went off into the bathroom, did his thing, came back out, and sat down at his desk.
“I have homework to do,” Brian told him. “Is that all right, Sir?”
Paul’s brain was buzzing happily, and his limbs were limp. There was something going on, but he really couldn’t concentrate on it at the moment. “Yes,” he sighed, head falling to one side as he dozed off.
He heard, “Thank you, Sir,” before he slept.
* * * *
Scott looked like a golden teddy bear, but he wasn’t, generally, as cuddly as one.
Now he snuggled and growled playfully and seemed to bend into whatever shape Jim wanted or needed. Jim was breathless with it, his hands running over the soft curling hair on thighs and belly and chest. Scott gave way under him, groaning, begging, “Please, Sir,” over and over.
Please, Sir, what?
“Anything…” moaned Scott, his head arching as Jim sucked up a mark on his neck. Jim ran his palms up and down Scott’s golden arms and grasped his wrists firmly.