by Sean Michael
“Thank you. I’ll have whatever today’s special is.” The specials were always fresh, tasty.
“Thai beef salad today, Sir.” Thai would always make him think of Giles now.
“Sounds great, I’ll have that and a beer, please.”
“Yes, Sir.” He received a smile, then Happy bounced back into the kitchen, making all three of them chuckle.
“I don’t think I know anyone as secure in his place as that boy,” Billy noted.
Simon nodded, chuckled. “He makes even Jack look like a gloomy boy.”
Harrison laughed. “Speaking of boys, either of you have anyone special?”
Simon shrugged. “I have someone relatively serious. Maybe. Someday.”
He patted Simon on the back. “Good things come to those who wait. Of course it would be easier if that someone believed the lifestyle was something real.”
Simon’s eyebrow lifted and Billy stared. “What?”
“He thinks it’s a game -- for play. I even brought him here and he wasn’t convinced.”
Simon frowned. “Have you two had a scene?”
“More than one. He’s chosen a safeword, I’ve spanked him. I’ve tied him up. I’ve denied him orgasms for hours.” Harrison shook his head. “He thinks I’m a sweet, dear man.”
Billy’s laughter filled the room. “You are a fierce, tough son of a bitch -- right?”
“You better fucking believe it.” He even growled a little. “Hell, ask anyone I’ve put through their paces.”
“So...” Simon had a wicked look on his face. “Does that mean you haven’t put your new boy through his?”
“Oh, I have.”
“Uh-huh,” the man teased. “Sure. Harrison, if you did and he doesn’t believe in it...”
“I suppose there are a lot more paces I can put him through.” He winked.
That had Billy going again. “So? Share, man. Tell us about him.”
“He’s something special. A painter. Brilliant.”
“A painter? That’s interesting. Is he eccentric?”
“He’s an amazing, offbeat pain slut.” And he was in love with his crazy artist.
Simon beamed. “Oh, that sounds delicious. When will you be showing him off?”
“I’ll arrange to bring him in on Friday.”
Billy chuckled. “Maybe next month, eh? The first few months with the learning are the best.”
“I don’t know. He might be more inclined to believe it with more exposure.”
Simon nodded. “Every sub is different. They all live in their own heads in different ways.”
“Oh, yes. And Giles more than most; his painting is everything. Above eating, sleeping, everything.”
“That sounds challenging.”
He nodded and grinned. “It is.” It was a part of Giles’ charm.
Simon’s smile was knowing. “A challenge is good.”
He snorted. “A challenge is great.”
“You look tickled, man. It’s a good thing,” Billy said with a nod.
“It’s a very good thing. And I’m more than tickled.”
Happy brought his meal and his beer, beaming at him as the boy placed it in front of him. “The special of the day, Sir.”
“Thank you, boy.”
Happy beamed some more and looked around the table. “Can I bring anything else?”
Billy chuckled. “I’ll take a cup of coffee, sweet boy.”
Happy nodded, bounced away, and they all watched him go. That ass was Happy’s best feature.
“Dominic is one lucky man.” That kind of constant bounciness wasn’t what he wanted, though. Harrison had a feeling Happy would drive him crazy inside a week. And he’d be bored.
Simon snorted. “Dominic has the patience of a saint.”
Harrison laughed. He did enjoy his friends at the Hammer. Simon winked, Bill shook his head, then they all cracked up again. When he’d stopped laughing, he ate his beef salad, enjoying the heartiness of the meat with the lightness of the dressing and greens.
Simon and Bill filled the air with easy noise, chatted about the upcoming shows. Marcus was doing whipping, Simon was volunteering to show a new Japanese rope technique. Harrison wondered what Giles would think of the shows. Then he wondered what Giles would think of having the techniques used on him after.
“So what’s your boy into?” Simon’s curiosity didn’t even feel prurient. They helped each other, learned from each other.
“Pain. The man cuts himself.”
“Ah.” Billy nodded. “I’ve had a couple of friends with that compulsion. It made it easy for their Doms to see when they needed attention.”
“I’ll bet. I keep telling Giles that I know what he needs and I can make it so much better than the cutting does.” He shrugged. “He’s worried it’s going to get him in trouble. He’s been involuntarily committed once already.” And it still made him mad that his sister would do that to him, especially when the other, Marisa, clearly got him. Sure a twin might understand more, but blood was blood.
“No shit? That’s harsh.” Billy winced. “I hate to hear things like that.”
“You’re not the only one. They don’t speak anymore.”
“Does he have any family?”
“Two sisters. The one who committed him and the one who supports him.”
“Damn.” Billy grimaced.
“I think being sent back is his biggest fear.”
Billy’s eyes went comically wide. “It would sure as hell be mine.”
Simon nodded.
Harrison’s phone rang. He smiled when he saw Giles’ name on the caller ID. “Hi, G.”
“Hey. Am I bothering you?”
“Never. How are you?”
“Okay. Sick, maybe. I don’t know. I’m canceling for supper, though. I’m going to just lie on the balcony and try to feel better.”
He frowned. “What kind of sick?”
“Just sick. Maybe. I just. I’ll call you tomorrow, ‘kay?”
“I’m coming over, G. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“I don’t need company. I don’t feel good.”
“I’m not company, G. I’m coming to take care of you.”
“I’m okay. I mean, just, no. What if you get sick? What if. I just. Goodbye, Harrison. No supper.”
He chuckled as Giles hung up. The man didn’t get it. Harrison was going to eventually wear him down.
Two sets of eyes were on him like hawks’. “Everything okay?”
“No, he’s sick. I’m going to stop by the deli for some soup and take it to him.”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry.” Simon shook his hand. “Sprite is good, too.”
Billy nodded. “Orange juice.”
Harrison shook his head. “Ginger ale.”
They all chuckled together, shook hands.
He put some money on the table, leaving a nice tip for Happy. “See you soon.”
“Have a good one!”
Harrison waved to them and hurried out, eager to get to his sub.
***
His head hurt. So bad. Giles locked his doors, took an icy cold shower, then went to his balcony and sat, rocking back and forth. Hot. So hot.
The bell started ringing. Just once to start with. Then again when he ignored it. And again.
“Go away!” Oh, God. Shouting made it worse.
A banging joined the ringing.
He crawled into the house, threw open his front door, trying to figure out how someone had gotten up the stairs. “What?”
“Giles! You look terrible.” Harrison came in, arms wrapping around him.
“I told you no supper.” He closed his eyes, the migraine slamming against him.
“It can go in the fridge. I have ginger ale, too.”
&nbs
p; “My head hurts. Go ‘way...”
“I’m here to help you. What do you usually take for your head?”
“I have stuff that Marisa brought. I took three already.”
“It’s a migraine?” Harrison didn’t wait for his answer, leading him to the bathroom.
“Uh-huh... I guess.” The room spun.
“Where are the pills? When did you take the last ones?” Harrison picked him up and held him close.
“In the cabinet deal. There’s a note.” He always put a note when he took the pills, how many. Just in case. No overdosing.
Harrison carried him over and opened the cabinet. It sounded so loud. “Looks like you can have a couple more.”
“You have to make a note.” He was going to hurl. “Go away. I’ll throw up. It’s yucky.”
“I’m not going anywhere, G.” Harrison set him down on his knees in front of the toilet, hands pulling back his hair.
He lost it, emptying himself, the voices in his head screaming as he cried. Harrison’s hand was warm on his back, slowly sliding up and down. When he was done, he crawled to the tub, moving carefully. Harrison was there to turn on the water, the lights suddenly going down as the warm water poured over him. He just curled into a ball, crying softly. At some point there were more pills, a drink of something good. The water pounded down around him and Harrison’s hands worked on his shoulders, his neck.
Finally the world went blue and easy, his eyes stopped focusing, and he stopped fighting.
Harrison was there. Harrison had him. They rocked gently together, Harrison holding him.
“Harrison.” He moaned, cheek on the broad chest.
“Shh. Just relax, G.”
“Are you naked?” He was naked.
“I am.”
“Me, too.”
“I know, G.” A soft kiss touched the top of his head. “It’s okay. We’re in the shower -- supposed to be naked. Is the migraine any better?”
“Uh-huh.” He could breathe a little now. “Jus’ leave the lights low.”
“Don’t worry, they’re off. And I think with the water warm and not hot, we can stay in here for a long time.”
“’Kay.” He stroked Harrison’s belly. “Thank you. My hero.”
His love.
His.
Giles sighed softly, and let himself fall asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Harrison woke with the bright morning light, his body wrapped around Giles. It looked like he needed to get Giles some curtains next, because while that early morning light was no doubt awesome for painting, it sucked for sleeping past sunrise.
He stayed where he was, yawning quietly -- he didn’t want to wake Giles. The man needed his sleep after the last few days. He’d never seen a man be so sick with a migraine. It had been brutal at a few points, Giles almost insane with it. He’d kept things dark and warm, though, feeding Giles pills every few hours, and the man seemed much easier in his skin now.
Giles curled into him, humming softly, hands opening and closing as he dreamed. Sweet, lovely man.
Harrison wondered if there was anything specific that triggered the migraines. He couldn’t believe that Giles had been intending to simply deal with it alone. He was pretty sure that’s how Giles dealt with everything. No more. The man had a master now, a Dom. A lover. Him.
Giles leaned in, kissed his shoulder. So sensitive.
“Fair warning, Giles. I’m keeping you.”
“Keeping me?” The words were moaned, almost breathed out.
“That’s right. You’re mine and I’m yours and that’s that.”
Giles’ eyes cracked open. “Harrison. You’re here.”
“Of course I am. You were sick.” Giles would learn to lean on him.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s gross.”
“It’s no big deal.”
Giles kissed his chin. “Still.”
“Thank you.” He grinned and bent to kiss Giles properly. Giles hummed, kissed him back, the action still a little clumsy. He drew Giles’ tongue into his mouth, sucked on it gently.
“Mmm.” Giles made the hungriest little sounds.
He slid his fingers over Giles’ belly, stroking, feeling.
“I feel better.”
“Good. Do you get those often?”
Giles nodded. “Sometimes.”
“What did the doctor say about them?”
“I didn’t go. Marisa did. For me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She told them it was her head. She has them, too.”
“That’s dangerous, G. Not to mention maybe something better would work for you -- given you’re not the same person and that you outweigh her and she’s a woman while you’re a guy...”
“Still, they help. Doctors aren’t good people. They’ll hurt you if you let them.”
God, he could gladly kill Giles’ sister. Not Marisa, the other one, the one who had committed his poor love. “There are good doctors out there, too, G. I trust mine to have my best interests at heart.”
“Marisa takes care of me.”
“And now so do I, but there are things we can’t do for you as well as someone else can. Like prescribe you medicine for your migraines, give you coping techniques, et cetera.”
“Shh.” Giles kissed his collarbone.
“Don’t shush me. What if there’s something that can be done so you don’t have the migraines anymore? Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“Yeah, but it’s just a thing.”
“It isn’t just anything -- it’s clearly debilitating. Wouldn’t you want to have them cured if you could?”
Giles met his eyes. “What if that’s where the painting comes from?”
Harrison shook his head. “I know people like to say they suffer for their art, but I think that’s a crutch.”
“But what if it’s not? That’s a huge chance.”
Harrison wasn’t sure exactly what to say to that. “If you need pain, G, you know I can give that to you. Controlled pain. Good pain.”
“Nobody needs pain. That’s crazy.” There was shame in those eyes.
“That’s crazy, but not being willing to cure your migraines in case it might stop you painting isn’t?” He shook his head. “No, G. Needing pain isn’t crazy. Not at all.”
“Do we have to talk about it?”
“About you needing pain or about the migraines?”
“Yes.”
Harrison laughed and shook his head. “We don’t have to talk about the pain. We’ll just play with it.”
“Let’s just lie here for a little while.”
“Just lie here and do what?”
Giles frowned, shaking a little bit. “I just need to be for five minutes, okay? Then I’ll get up.”
“Shh. It’s okay Giles. I’ll just hold you.”
“Just five minutes.”
“Shh. Quiet, just holding, yeah?”
Giles nodded, eyes closing. Harrison shook his head but let Giles have the time he needed, the quiet comfort. Giles relaxed, hummed, leaned into him. He held his lover, fingers stroking over the warm skin.
He looked around the studio, admiring the paintings. They were pure sex, arousing, wonderful. Those hadn’t come from any migraine -- that wasn’t what had inspired them. Giles’ need had inspired them. He just had to convince Giles of that.
“Thank you.” The words were soft.
“Feeling more centered?”
“Yeah. I just needed a minute.”
“So I’m allowed to kiss you and tug on those sweet rings now?” Harrison winked and took that kiss without waiting for a response. Giles pressed closer to him, one hand draped around his waist. He moaned happily, fingers sliding between them to play with those awesome nipple rings.
&nb
sp; Giles was so much more alert, so relaxed this morning. He tugged on one nipple ring and twisted the other, watching Giles’ face. Giles’ eyelids went heavy, lips parting.
“Yeah, you like that.” So did he. He loved Giles’ reactions to the nipple ring play.
“I like you.”
“You like what I do to you, too.”
“I do.”
“I’m glad you know it. I’m glad you know that I know it.” He waited a half second. “Even if you don’t want to talk about it.”
Giles shrugged. “Sometimes it’s better not to.”
“Sometimes you have to.”
“No. I’d rather paint it.”
“Ah, yes. That’s not a bad choice at all.”
Giles chuckled. “I’ve been painting you.”
“Have I been on your mind a lot?”
“Too much, I think.”
That was a surprising answer. “Too much?”
Giles nodded. “I was in love once, back in school, and still, he wasn’t more important than the work. You could be. That’s probably unhealthy.”
Harrison chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Most people would say that painting to the exclusion of all else would be unhealthy.”
“They aren’t artists.”
Harrison stopped the circular conversation with a kiss. Giles stilled, then leaned into him, pushed him over, tried to take control of the kiss. He pushed back, rolling them again in a move that would have sent them off the futon this bigger mattress had replaced. He pressed into the kiss, making it deeper, making it clear that he was the one in charge.
Giles groaned a little bit, pushing, enough to make Harrison fight, but not enough to be serious. It was sexy, that challenge, that fight. He pushed one leg between Giles’, keeping his lover off balance. He reached between them and pinched one nipple, then twisted the ring.
“No.” Giles groaned the word between them.
“Yes.” He grabbed the other nipple ring, tugging it.
“No! You’re always pushing me.” And Giles loved it.
“I am. And I’m not going to stop.” He rubbed against Giles.
“Just let me...” Giles wriggled, lean muscles pushing him.
He pressed down harder. “Let you what?”
“Get up.”