by A. M. Riley
* * * *
Both Joshua and Scott were silent and thoughtful before, during, and after the meal, and Jim decided to send Scott to bed early.
Scott curled on the bed, restless and jumpy. Jim sat beside him, trying to soothe him, but Scott was unable to relax.
“Please, Jim.” Scott was almost tearful. “I need…”
“Okay, baby. Let me see what I can do.”
Jim made him as comfortable as possible while giving Scott the security he needed. He laid him on his stomach with wrists and ankles spread and bound with the soft Velcro straps.
Then Jim sat with him, stroking his back until Scott went to sleep. When Scott’s breathing had become deep and even, he carefully released the restraints, then drew the sheets up carefully over Scott and went out to the living room to deal with Joshua.
* * * *
Joshua was sitting in the living room, watching television. The sound was turned up loud, he had the remote in his hand, and his foot was tapping against the floor rapidly.
Jim came in the room. “Can you turn that down, please?”
Joshua looked at him. He lifted the remote and muted the sound.
“Thank you.” Jim sat down.
Joshua sat looking at him, that one foot nervously jittering.
“So, Scott tells me you were in a relationship,” said Jim.
“Yep.”
Jim noted, curiously, the lack of Joshua’s habitual sir.
“But it wasn’t a domestic discipline relationship,” he stated. “That’s what we call this, you know.”
Joshua just looked at him for a second, and then he said, “No.”
“How much older was he than you?”
That wine-colored flush rose into Joshua’s cheeks again. “How…how’d you know?”
Jim just sat waiting for the answer.
“He was forty-five,” said Joshua, sounding angry for the first time since Jim had met him. “And he was married, it turns out.”
Jim sat and waited.
“He had a son my age,” said Joshua. “Can you believe that? We’d been seeing each other off and on three months, and he tells me.”
Jim waited.
“Don’t know why I didn’t just walk away then,” said Joshua. “I just couldn’t. And he…he…”
Joshua’s face darkened. “He’d call, and I’d just come running like his dog. Bastard.” And Joshua raised the remote and deselected the Mute so the sound blasted into the room like an audio fist.
“Turn that down,” said Jim.
Joshua scowled.
“I said,” said Jim, loudly and distinctly, “Turn. That. Down.”
Glaring at him, Joshua tossed the remote to Jim. “You do it,” he said and jumped up.
Jim set the remote down and followed Joshua. The young man went straight to Scott’s bedroom. Jim noted he didn’t shut the door, and he threw himself on the bed.
“Young man,” said Jim, feeling his way very carefully. “Go out to that living room, and turn that television down.”
“You do it,” said Joshua again.
Jim bit his lip and studied the back of Joshua’s head. Then he walked over to the bed, lifted the man by his arm, swung him to his feet, gave his bottom one hard smack, and said, “Do as I told you to.”
Joshua yelped. And then he walked out to the living room, heels thumping angrily all the way, picked up the remote, and turned the sound off.
Then he came back into his bedroom. “There,” he said. “Happy?”
“No,” said Jim. “But you are, aren’t you?”
The deep wine color flooded Joshua’s face again.
“I told you, Joshua. You can ask me anything. I expect it. Do you have something you need to ask me?”
Joshua looked confused. Then he looked angry. Then he looked confused.
Jim relented. “It’s been a long day. Maybe we all should go to bed early.”
Joshua nodded.
“Good night, son.”
He heard the voice softly behind him as he went down the hall, “Good night, Sir.”
* * * *
In bed, his hand resting lightly on Scott’s arm, Jim dialed his cell phone. “Hello, Paul? I know it’s late. I’m sorry. Listen, when are you and Brian coming back? Really? Well, there’s something that’s come up here, and I wanted to talk to you about it. Do you have time right now? Thank you…”
Chapter Seventeen
They were due back in Los Angeles within the week. Brian’s internship had concluded, successfully according to his sponsor’s report and his school’s, and he and Paul were cruising through the East Village in a sort of celebratory romp.
Brian and Paul had been together, now, for two years. Though Brian wasn’t much for cruising bars, and though his social life had basically consisted of school, home, school, home, he had come to realize that there was a big difference between the men he met at the trendy leather bars and the few couples he met who were like him and Paul.
There was talking the talk, and then there was walking the walk.
And, within that smaller circle, there was an endless variety of complex circles. So, though Paul and Brian moved tonight through a club full of leather-wearing, spiked-collar-sporting, leashed and harnessed men, women, and others, Brian still kept that certain watchfulness he always bore toward strangers.
He was leaning against the bar now, waiting for Paul to come out of the men’s room. Compared to most of the patrons, Brian appeared fairly vanilla this evening. He wore nice jeans, a loose white shirt open to his midriff, and a black leather collar with a padlock.
If one looked closely, one might see the tiny gold loops in each nipple. And only Brian knew that his collar was real and had its own matching leash.
“Hi there.” A big man, shirtless, with a leather jacket unbuttoned on top and a leather biker cap, shouldered up to the bar near Brian and gave him a wink.
“Hello,” said Brian.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m waiting for my friend.”
“That’s cool,” said the man. “I’ll buy your friend a drink too.”
“Well, that’s very generous of you,” said Paul. He stood behind the man, and the look in his eye gave Brian a little shiver.
“Hey, no problem,” said Biker Cap, turning, and though Brian was expecting the usual stunned and then quietly shrinking-away reaction, this man just yelped, “Hey, how ya doin’, buddy?” and moved as if to embrace Paul.
Even more shockingly, Paul shouted in pleased surprise and returned the embrace.
“Brian, this is Freddie,” said Paul after all the leather slapping was over. “He and I used to ride together up in Ontario.”
“Then this genius decides he wants to sell choppers,” said Freddie.
“And this idiot decides he wants to teach,” said Paul.
And they both proceeded to tell Brian all about each other, with much laughing and pointing of fingers and unexplained jokes that set them both to pounding on the bar as they laughed helplessly, ordering one round after another.
Brian was an intelligent, well-adjusted young man. But he was a Brat, and he was feeling a definite lack of Proper Appreciation.
He preened. He leaned on the bar and shook his ass. He leaned his elbows on the bar and let his shirt fall open to show his nipple rings. He gave men walking by the eye.
“Hey, Paul, I think we’ve been ignoring your fella here,” said Freddie wisely, and Brian looked up, startled, into the man’s keen brown eyes.
Paul looked over at Brian bemusedly. “Really, Brian?”
Brian sulked, damn it. He could feel himself doing it. But Freddie just laughed, head thrown back, and grabbed him with a big leather-clad arm and gave Brian a quick squeeze.
“I’m sorry, kid. I won’t steal your man away another minute. But, Paul, we’ve gotta meet up somewhere.”
“Oh.” Paul looked disappointed and Brian felt like a jerk. “We’re headed back to LA next week, Freddie.”
/>
“You’re kidding!” said Freddie. “But I’m teaching at UCLA next semester. I’ll be living right there!”
Brian saw a chance to redeem himself and said quickly, “You should stay at our place when you get there. Until you get set up. Then you and Paul can catch up.”
“Really? No, I couldn’t impose.”
Paul gazed at Brian, his eyes dark with a happy gratitude. “Yes, we’d like that.”
And Brian felt like a prince again.
Later, Paul said, “Freddie’s the only old friend who understands the life.”
“Oh,” said Brian. Well, that explained that knowing look Freddie’d given Brian. The man had topsense. “Where’s his partner?”
“He’s been alone for a long time.” Paul shrugged. “He has the odd relationship here and there, but nothing seems to jell.”
Brian had a chilling thought, and he shivered.
Paul looked at him curiously.
“Just thinking,” said Brian. “There’ll be three tops in our house.”
Paul just laughed.
* * * *
Paul told Jim about it that night when Jim called to tell him about Joshua.
“The living room sofa folds out,” said Jim, ever the housekeeper. “And we have three bathrooms. There shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Are you sure? It’ll be a lot more work for you.”
“I’m absolutely sure. And Joshua helps with the housework. Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him.”
“That’s right; you said.”
“He wants being brought out, Paul.”
“He doesn’t know he’s gay? But…”
“No no no. I don’t even know if there’s a word for it. He’s a perfect little angel, a model of decorum, and then he brats like an expert.”
“Like Scott?”
“This young man is nothing like Scott.”
Paul could hear the worry in Jim’s voice. Jim was always afraid of failing those who relied on him. “You’ll be fine,” said Paul. “Another week, and we’ll be there, and then we can let Brian have a talk with him.”
“Oh my God,” said Jim.
Paul had to laugh.
* * * *
“Wait’ll you meet Brian,” said Scott. “He’s great.”
They sat on the front porch. Scott had been so excited he appeared to be impersonating a Tasmanian devil, and with Joshua constantly tailing him, Jim had finally had enough and chased them both out front to wait for Paul and Brian’s arrival.
Joshua gazed at the empty street in front of the house with worried, serious eyes as if he expected this prince to manifest right in front of him.
“He’ll love you,” said Scott. “Don’t worry.”
Of course voicing Joshua’s worry only made it more likely in his mind. “You said he goes to college?”
“He’s a brain.” Scott shrugged. “But he’s not bookish, you know? He’s got a mean little passing arm, and he knows his way around a basketball court. Hey! Me, you, and him can go kick a soccer ball around later.”
As Joshua’s soccer skills were meager, this only increased his anxiety.
This college man with the superior athletic skills who had been Scott’s best friend long before he met Joshua was starting to loom larger than Armageddon to Joshua.
“Maybe I should wait inside,” he said. “I’m getting another headache.”
But just then Scott jumped off the swing and hooted. “There they are!”
There was nothing for it. Joshua was going to have to meet this person.
An airport limo pulled up to the curb, and almost immediately a big inked man emerged from the passenger’s side. A moment later, the back door opened, and a tall twenty-something blond man climbed out. His hair was short on top, twisting in curls at his nape, and he wore a white business shirt, thin necktie, and Hollywood Star sunglasses. This was the personage upon whom Scott leaped like a golden retriever.
The inked man went around, apparently to pay the driver. Amid the general shouting and greeting, there was Jim now out on the porch and hurrying across the lawn, and the blond wunderkind was embracing everybody. And another tall man emerged from the other side of the car and came around to the sidewalk.
Black hair and sunglasses, dark suit jacket, jeans, and biker boots: he looked like some kind of dangerous underworld figure. He removed the sunglasses and looked up at Joshua, standing frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Dark, dark eyes and a slow, wide smile. “Hello,” he said.
Joshua’s heart stopped beating. Breath caught in his throat. The man came toward him, a curious penetrating look on his face. “Who are you?” he said.
Joshua blinked. “Um,” he said.
The man’s eyebrow twitched just a little. “Um?”
“J-Joshua,” said Joshua, relieved beyond belief that he could remember his own name. And then, in a mighty miracle of brain power, he remembered to produce his hand. “Joshua Miller. How do you do, sir?”
The man’s hand warm, steady, enclosed Joshua’s. “Frederick Griffin, Mr. Miller. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Joshua’s whole body went warm. He could feel the embarrassing flush seeping into his face.
“Well, hello?” The big inked man came striding up and clapped the back of Frederick Griffin’s shoulder with a big hand. “This must be Joshua.”
Then Scott, thank God, was there, and Joshua felt himself ease as soon as Scott had hold of him and was pulling him along, babbling away.
The blond man, who was indeed the wondrous Brian, grinned down at him and held out his hand, and then the two of them led Joshua back into the house. As they disappeared inside, Joshua looked back down the steps to where Frederick Griffin stood with the other two men, looking up at Joshua with those black eyes.
* * * *
“I’ve never known a cowboy,” said Brian, as if Joshua were an astronaut or something. “What’s it like?”
Brian was actually quite normal for a prince, and Joshua was finding it hard to be intimidated by him. “Smelly, dirty, and poor,” he said. “Mostly. Unless you like animals.”
“Do you?”
“Yep. I guess.”
They lay in a row on Brian’s bed, each one of them wearing an I ♥ NY PIZZA T-shirt. Scott had on sunglasses with twin lenses that resembled big apples.
“Joshua’s really into animals,” said Scott. “He can talk your ear off about reining and reins and harnesses.”
“Oh, that reminds me. I got you something, Scott.” Brian jumped off the bed and dug in one of the suitcases. He brought out a long dark red box. He was about to hand it to his friend when he stopped, looked at Joshua, and literally seemed to dim, as if the light inside of him had been switched off. “I’ll give it to you later.”
“Joshua’s cool,” said Scott. He and Brian exchanged some kind of secret eye handshake, and then, looking cautious, Brian handed Scott the box.
“Holy shit,” said Scott. He separated quantities of white tissue paper.
“Jim’ll have a heart attack,” said Brian. “I guarantee it.”
Scott drew it slowly out of the box. “Hoooollllyyyy shit, you son of a bitch.”
Brian chuckled.
Joshua frowned at the quantities of black leather and buckles and long straps.
“What is it?”
Scott held it up to himself. “Leatherman’s negligee,” he said.
“It’s a harness,” said Brian. “I have one, but this one is more Scott’s style, I think.” This last was said with one of those more-than-friends looks that Joshua had noted the two men exchanging more than once in the past half hour.
“See the collar? It has loops where he can attach a head harness, a ball gag, a leash. I’m telling you, Scott, Jim will need resuscitation when he sees you in this the first time.”
“I have to plan this,” said Scott. “You have to help me plan this, Brian.”
Joshua’s incipient headache, the one that had threatened out on the porc
h, was making its presence known again. “I’m getting one of my headaches again,” he told Scott.
“Man, that sucks. Joshua gets pukey sick headaches,” Scott explained to Brian.
“Oh no, Joshua. What do you need? Do you want me to get you some aspirin?”
“I really just need to lie down.” Joshua pressed his head to the mattress, shutting his eyes.
“My granddad used to get them,” said Scott wisely. “Only thing you can do is lie down in quiet.”
“Well, this is the quietest darkest room in the house. Joshua, you lie down in here,” said Brian. “I’ll tell Paul we have to wait, and you stay in here until you feel better.”
“I couldn’t…”
“Yes, you could.” Brian grabbed some other boxes up and said, “C’mon, Scott, I have a gift for Jim too, and then you and me have to go plan.”
“Aw man, I’m glad to have you back,” said Scott as they tiptoed out, softly closing the door behind them. Joshua turned his head in the now dim room and closed his eyes.
* * * *
Wearing a full-length apron, the front of which was covered with a picture of the naked body of a very well-endowed man—Brian’s gag gift from New York—and setting the dining room table, Jim looked up as Scott and Brian went scampering across the backyard and into the rec room.
Scampering was the word for it too. And Scott only scampered when he was up to some mischief.
“They look happy,” said Freddie, coming into the dining room and watching the men out the window.
“God help us all,” said Jim. And Freddie laughed.
“I really appreciate you putting up with me, Jim,” he said. “What can I do to help?”
Jim counted forks. “The glasses are in the cupboard behind the sink, if you don’t mind. Joshua usually helps me, but he’s come down with one of his migraines.”
Freddie fetched the glasses and set them above the plates. “Joshua’s the young man with the surprised green eyes I met on the front steps?”
Jim looked at him. “Scott’s adopted him, I think. He’s an angel, but…” He shook his head. “I need another napkin.” He went off muttering.
Paul came into the dining room then. “Have you seen Brian?”