by M. Q. Barber
Henry hadn’t said a word while Jay poured them out. Over the top of Jay’s head, Henry’s face showed tenderness. The curve of his lip, the crinkling at his eyes, and the gentle tilt to his head gave her a new perspective on the morning.
Aside from introducing a new kind of sex to her repertoire and building Jay’s confidence, maybe Henry craved the reminder of tenderness and caring. A meaningful way to give them the love he needed to express while being the powerful dominant they wanted. Memories he treasured, the first tentative steps toward making Jay safe and whole.
Or she was overthinking, and the game had been an impulse brought about by their teasing play on the way to the shower. Henry had so many gears at work in his head she couldn’t map them all. Not that she’d ever stop trying.
“Perhaps you’d care to tell Alice about that time in our lives, my boy. To share some of your experiences with her.” Henry spoke casually, continuing to fix lunch, as if Jay’s choice of conversational topics lacked significance. “Her own introduction to our life together, after all, has been entirely on display.”
Fairness. With a prod like that, no way Jay’d keep quiet.
“He made me wait. Soooo long, Alice. Forever long.”
“Forever, huh?” She teased, gently, awash in the uncertainty of those first months, when Henry hadn’t taken her, either.
Jay snorted. “You thought you waited a long time. I waited two years.”
Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out. Two years. They’d been living together. Sharing a bed?
“Yes, two years, my dear girl.” Henry sliced finished wraps on the diagonal. “Patience and understanding were important for us both, weren’t they, my boy?”
“I had nightmares.” Jay dipped his head toward the table.
She rubbed her thumb across his palm.
“Sleeping in Henry’s bed helped. But I felt like—” His gaze darted up and back. “Like I wasn’t earning my keep, you know?”
She squeezed his fingers. Like her, he needed to contribute to feel valuable. For him, that meant pleasing someone, and he’d associated giving happiness with sexual games. A sex toy and a whipping boy for the people who’d touched him before Henry. Nothing more. “But Henry didn’t look at it that way, right?”
Henry smiled at her as he carried a platter of spinach wraps to the table and set them down. She’d pleased him, somehow.
“He said I didn’t have to earn his affection.”
“You still needn’t, my boy.” Henry pressed Jay to his chest and kissed the top of his head. “My love exists regardless.”
Jay turned, following their lover’s progress to the refrigerator. “I still wanted to, though. Kept begging him to let me please him.”
Ah. Increasing Jay’s comfort with talking and sharing always pleased Henry. Jay needed to be proud of his place in the relationship, to be a senior sub sharing worthwhile knowledge with her. His sense of responsibility toward her made him stronger. Braver.
“He started slow. Let me feel him. He’d spoon up behind me and stroke me off.” Jay flushed, the slightest hint of pink in his cheeks. “The first time, I came in two strokes. Just having him touching me was…”
“Thrilling,” she murmured, and they shared an understanding smile.
Henry joined them at the table with a pitcher of lemonade and a bowl of chips. “Help yourselves. You’ll need the calories for this afternoon’s entertainment.”
They both thanked him, though only she went on to ask about the entertainment.
“You’ll find out later, my dear. Don’t let me distract you from your discussion. I believe Jay was about to explain the sweet allure of his thighs.”
“It’s the muscles, right?” She faux-whispered as Jay beamed. “He’s got great control.”
Henry hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Jay shrugged. “I kept telling Henry I wanted more, and he kept insisting on boundaries.” Jay shook his head and rolled his eyes, the epitome of youthful impatience. “When he finally agreed I was ready for more, I figured for sure he’d fuck me. And he did—only my thighs, not my ass.” He groaned. “I thought I’d die from wanting it, but he was right. It worked out better his way.”
He reached for a wrap, paused, and grabbed a second, too. “So yeah. Two years before I even got the sex-sex instead of the non-sex sex.” He smirked across the table at her, one eyebrow raised. “But I know he loved me a long time before he stuffed his cock in my ass.”
Her chuckle grew into full-out, side-gripping guffaws. Only Jay would say it so bluntly and with such affection. She understood now. Why the non-sex sex.
More tactile intimacy than a blowjob, their bodies pressed together, cuddling with a larger sexual charge. But not threatening the way full-on sex would’ve been. Another way for Henry to accustom Jay to enjoying sexual activities that didn’t demand more than was safe for him to give. To show Jay dominance could be comfort, because Jay wanted not pain but the freedom to be dependent.
For her, today, Henry had made it an illicit thrill, a safe way to feel helpless. Trapped against his body and knowing he could’ve done anything, taken anything, but that he wouldn’t. That his dominance could be forceful without being invasive. Intimidating and exciting but safe.
For himself, too. He’d treated her gently as he had Jay, but with her preference for his commanding presence firmly in mind. The lesser severity of her emotional damage didn’t mean Henry couldn’t use the same technique to give them all what they needed. Even if maybe he needed it more than she did.
She’d been the one to give Henry something he needed. So what if she hadn’t known that’s what was going on? She’d still been the one to meet his emotional needs. The girl who would’ve rejected emotional involvement even a year ago. Now the deeper connection made her satisfied. Proud.
She sat straighter. Loaded her plate. Lunch tasted amazing, thanks to Henry’s culinary skills and her own high spirits. This relationship puzzle got easier to examine every day. She’d label all of its pieces and functions eventually. And then what?
Henry sat quietly encouraging Jay’s continued antics with his lunch. No need to worry. She’d never have a what-now moment, not with these two in her life. If Henry believed she’d gotten bored, he’d add a new mystery. She’d signed on for a lifelong investigation. The thought wasn’t so frightening as it used to be. She tapped the new piece into place and set the puzzle aside.
Right now, her responsibility was to enjoy lunch. “Wait, you did what with the pickle spears?”
* * * *
“Jay.” Henry spoke without taking his gaze from her.
“Yes, Henry?” Jay paused in his work clearing the table, laying Alice’s plate beside the sink.
“I’m putting you in charge of Alice for the afternoon. There are kayaks in the boathouse. Take her out on the lake and teach her to use one, please.”
“Me?” Jay’s surprised tone matched the What? in her head.
“Yes. Alice will follow your every direction with exacting precision. Isn’t that so, Alice?” He raised an eyebrow.
She raced to figure out what he expected of her.
“Yes, Henry.” Not enough. Something—ah. “If you want me to listen to Jay, I know he’s the best teacher for the job.”
His small smile told her she’d guessed right. He’d appointed Jay her guide in a specific task in line with Jay’s expertise. Demonstrating trust. Rebuilding Jay’s confidence. Inside the bedroom this morning and outside this afternoon.
“Alice has assured me she’s an accomplished swimmer, and I’m certain you’ll give her an excellent education in the art of kayaking.”
“I will, Henry. I promise. She’ll have a great time.” Jay would kill himself to make sure of it.
“Come here, my boy.” Henry tugged Jay into his lap. Their hard, bruising kiss flirted with gentleness, too, Henry’s hands slipping over Jay’s spine. “Finish clearing the dishes while I help Alice with her sunscreen and then come a
nd wait your turn, please. I want you both well-protected while you’re at leisure.”
Henry led her to the bedroom, rummaged in their bags, and laid her outfit on the bed. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. She sashayed, as seemed fitting for one wearing a sash.
They shared a smile. Lifting one end of her sash, he tugged, her robe fell open, and he wandered inside.
“Now, where shall we rub that sunscreen? We wouldn’t want to miss a spot.” He stroked her stomach and breasts with a light, relaxing touch. “A sunburned girl is one who won’t be allowed to play tonight.” He pushed the robe from her shoulders.
She straightened. “Do you have credentials?”
“A license to undress you?” He reached past her. Swimsuit, a new two-piece in dark green. Henry’s color. “I believe you signed the permission slip for that, my dear.”
“Nope, not that.” Stepping into the bikini bottom as he held it open, she smirked at him where he knelt in front of her. “Credentials for sunscreen application. What kind of liability insurance do you have? If I miss out on playtime because of improper application, I’ll be terribly cross with you, sir.”
“Mmm. ‘Terribly cross,’ you say? Such language.” He kissed her belly above her trimmed curls before covering her flesh with the bikini. “I assure you, my skills are impeccable.”
She hummed with satisfaction. Yeah, he was right about that.
Her shorts went on, followed by the bikini top, followed by a gauzy, long-sleeved shirt. Brisk competence in Henry’s hands. Lying on the bed as he lifted her legs and coated them with sunscreen, she waved to Jay when he entered the bedroom.
He sat beside her at Henry’s direction and waited his turn.
Henry finished rubbing sunscreen into her neck and face. He plopped a floppy fishing hat on her head. “There we are.” With an entirely straight face, he added, “Lovely.”
She wrinkled her nose. Looked up at the underside of the hat brim. Tipped her head back as if she might see it better that way. “Uh-huh. I’m not sure I believe you.”
Henry smirked.
Jay laughed. “No, Henry’s right. It’s you. Wait, let me get my phone. I need a new profile pic of you.”
She crossed her arms in front of her face. “No way, mister. There will be no photographic evidence of the hat.”
Jay tickled her wrists. She nudged him back. They played until Henry had gathered Jay’s clothes.
“On your feet, my boy. Let’s get you properly dressed for this excursion.”
She lounged on the bed, offering a teasing wolf whistle at Jay’s naked behind. “I think my phone needs a new photo of you, too, stud.”
He wiggled, and she giggled. “My ass is in high demand. It’ll cost ya.”
“Let me guess, the going rate is a bad hat picture?”
Henry pulled a pair of swim trunks over her view.
“Too late. My ass is safe from giggling gawkers.”
“Sure. For now.”
Jay got a short-sleeve shirt. No hat. She pointed out the inherent unfairness and found no traction.
“Your skin is much fairer than Jay’s.” Henry applied sunscreen with thoroughness over Jay’s arms and legs and neck. “Our boy will tan. You will not. And I’ve already been informed I must be certain my sunscreen liability insurance is paid up.”
Damn. Beaten by her own big mouth. She slipped on the water shoes Henry gave her while Jay did the same beside her.
Henry unfastened his watch and placed it around Jay’s left wrist. “Five o’clock, please. You’ll both wish to shower before supper. If you’ve been good, you might play as we did this morning, hmm?”
“Yes, Henry.” Her voice and Jay’s overlapped in their eagerness.
Henry kissed them both and handed Jay the key to the boathouse. “Go on, then.”
Chapter 9
The boathouse proved to be at the base of the stairs leading down from the deck. Jay popped the padlock while she wandered to the end of the dock. The water sparkled under the sun hanging high and to her right, over the far end of the lake. Farther than she could see, at any rate. Not so big as Lake Mitchell, but big enough.
In her head, her little sister begged for a ride on the paddleboats. Dad scooped Olivia up and over his shoulders. He took them both out on the water. Her legs almost too short to reach, she sent the boat curving on an arc as the force of her pedaling fell behind Daddy’s. Ollie had tried kneeling and pedaling with her hands. A happy day, full of laughter.
Making her way back to Jay, she ducked inside the boathouse. “Find some good stuff, stud?”
“Tons. You ever been in a kayak?”
“Not even once. Canoes, though.”
Jay nodded. He’d folded back shutters, leaving streaks of light crossing the building. “Practice tipping?”
“At summer camp. Is this a prelude to a wet T-shirt contest? Because I demand an equal-opportunity competition, so you’d better get drenched, too.”
“Nope.” He pointed to a digital readout on the wall. “Water thermometer must be tied outside. Sends the data wirelessly. Pretty slick. But it’s too cold to practice tipping. Water hasn’t flipped. We’ll take a tandem instead of a rollover.”
The thermocline. That’s what he meant. The cold winter water in the lake hadn’t warmed yet. So even though the sun was shining and the air was comfortably in the low seventies, the water temperature hovered below fifty. Way too chilly for a swim.
“You’re the expert.” She scanned the racks. A half-dozen kayaks, easy, plus other watercraft. Either Santa was obsessive about fishing, or he hosted parties here. Summer barbecues. Family getaways, or something else? She pushed the question aside. “Tell me all about how we’ll work in tandem, stud.”
Jay snorted and launched into a long explanation. Yes, it made sense that the more streamlined designs with a thin profile at the waterline would tip faster and right themselves more easily. The flatter, open variety—what Jay was calling a sit on top, she deciphered from the slurring siddentawp sound he seemed to think was a word—would provide a more stable platform for learning and be less likely to end with the two of them soaked and slogging up to the house in defeat. The kayak Jay drew out from storage appeared almost a single piece of molded plastic with plug holes to drain water away. He might not understand the physics or the materials the way she did, but he knew his boats.
“So we’ll take this one, and you’ll sit in front—see, it’ll be easier for me to follow your paddling speed and sync up with you than the other way ’round.” He handed her a double-ended paddle.
Light. Good balance. Not anything like the heavy wooden canoe paddles she’d used at day camp as a kid.
“Come sit on the dock with me, and we’ll practice strokes and turns.”
“Shouldn’t we be in the boat for that?”
“Nope. In a tandem, we’ll need to coordinate.” He pulled her outside, lowered her to the boards, and knelt in front of her. “I’ll call out commands for turns, and I’ll stop paddling until you’ve switched up your stroke. You’ll see.” He stopped adjusting her legs and grip. “Actually, I guess you won’t, since you’ll be in front. You’ll just have to…”
“Trust you’ll be doing the right things behind me to keep me from dumping us both in the water,” she finished, when he seemed unwilling to suggest it. She trusted him. Henry trusted him. They wanted him to trust himself. “That’s easy enough.”
“Is it?”
She pulled him into a hug, the paddle pressed awkwardly between them. “It is for me, sweetheart. I’m excited to spend the day kayaking with you. I couldn’t be in better hands.”
He squeezed her hard before pulling away.
“Right. Okay.” Switch flipped, he dropped to the boards, sliding his legs alongside hers until their hips were snug. “Let’s start with the paddling motion.” He laid his hands over hers on the paddle. “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’m a professional. I’m told I have great hands.”
She giggled and let him p
lay the charmer as they practiced strokes. He suited them up with life jackets afterward. Not too bulky, thankfully. It wasn’t long before he held the kayak while she stepped in. He followed her, and they pushed off the dock.
Their first turning attempt resounded with a smack of paddles as she swung the wrong way, but they worked out the kinks quickly. Steering a kayak together differed from canoeing. The swaying, the speed, and the coordination didn’t line up with her experience. But the lesson he’d given her on the dock helped with managing the double-ended paddle.
Now when he called out a direction change, she obeyed instantly. Left, to avoid the two anglers in the little motorboat with the open cooler. Right, to stay off the shoreline—did she see the mostly submerged tree trunk with the turtle sunning itself? Yes, she’d seen it.
He sprawled his feet in the foot braces near her hips. Tapping his toes, either from nerves or excitement, but eventually even her hyperactive boy settled down. The rhythm of the strokes became second nature, a kind of communion, with him following her pace as she listened for his directions. Give and take.
He checked in often, calling a pause and leaning forward to rub her shoulders. “Still good?”
She answered in the affirmative every time. She might end up sore, but their contentment together mattered more.
Fingers pressed against the back of her neck and pulled away. “No sunburn back here. Legs okay?”
“Fabulous.” She made a face at her pale limbs. They never tanned. “As gorgeous as a line of vanilla frosting.”
“I love vanilla frosting.” Jay’s voice turned sly. “If you tell Henry what a good boy I’ve been today, I bet he’d let me have dessert.”
Hell, he didn’t need to fill up on sugar. Her stud had the market cornered with natural sweetness. “One-track mind.”
“It’s a really good track. It takes me all kinds of amazing places. Places you haven’t even seen.” He paused. “Well, not without a mirror, anyway. Unless you sit around with a mirror between your legs and—”