Disciplinary Action

by Onley James

  Gideon ignored that Cal hadn’t called him Daddy. “Shh, little one. Daddy’s going to take care of you. You need to trust me.” He slipped a finger inside the boy, teasing the spongy gland just inside.

  Cal yelped in surprise, trying to bare down on Gideon’s finger, but he withdrew it, instead focusing on the boy’s balls once again, gently rolling them in his hands before abandoning the task to caress the boy’s lower belly.

  Cal slammed his fists on the desk, not in anger but in confusion. “What are you doing to me? I feel like I’m going crazy. It hurts, Daddy. Everything hurts.”

  Gideon shushed the boy gently. “Not much longer. I promise it will be worth it. You can hold off just a little bit longer for Daddy, can’t you, sweet boy?” A sob escaped Cal, but he nodded, tears leaking from his eyes. “That’s my good boy.”

  Gideon began the process all over again, each time bringing Cal to the verge of orgasm only to stop and move to another task, never repeating the same pattern twice, watching the way his boy responded—the labored breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his thigh muscles strained as he tried to thrust once more into Gideon’s hand, desperate for release.

  “Please, Daddy,” he whispered. “It hurts. I’m trying to be good. I’m trying. Please.” The last ‘please’ dissolved into a moan as Gideon once more jerked him. This time, when he let him go to slip two fingers inside, Cal groaned as cum spurted from his untouched cock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It just happened.”

  Gideon caressed the boy’s inner thigh. He was ready. “You didn’t do anything. You’re okay. Are you ready to come, baby?”

  Cal was crying now, nodding vigorously, his hands white knuckling the edge of Gideon’s desk. He closed his lips over the boy’s cock, sucking him deep, just as he slipped two fingers inside him, curving them against the boy’s prostate. Cal’s whole body tensed as he arched off the desk, his mouth falling open in a silent scream, then he was coming hard, spilling his release on Gideon’s tongue and down the back of his throat. He worked his fingers inside Cal, milking every drop from him until the boy gave a pained cry and Gideon sat back, pulling his fingers free.

  Gideon glanced at the clock behind them, noting they were well into Cal’s free period. He opened the top drawer of his desk, grabbing the wet wipes, cleaning his hands before doing the same to Cal’s thighs and the desk. Cal’s feet slipped from the arms of Gideon’s chair, but he just laid there, legs dangling, panting and teary-eyed. Gideon took the boy’s hands, gently pulling him into a sitting position before tugging him down into his lap. “Are you alright?”

  Gideon’s heart squeezed when Cal dropped his head onto Gideon’s shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Are you certain?” Gideon asked, his arms going around the boy instinctively, cradling him to his chest.

  Cal just nodded, but Gideon could feel the boy’s tears soaking his shirt collar. He gave him a few minutes to collect himself, idly stroking the boy’s back. After a while, he chucked the boy under the chin, wiping his tears. “You need to get dressed and get back to class.”

  Cal swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, sliding off of Gideon’s lap. Gideon watched as Cal redressed himself, shoulders slumped and a strained look on his face. “Hey.” Cal glanced up at him, still tying his tie. “You did really well. I’m very proud of you.”

  The boy bobbed his head, looking away, an aborted smile on his lips. “Are-are we going to do this again?”

  “That was our arrangement, was it not? Six weeks?” Gideon asked.

  This time, when the boy’s shoulders fell, it seemed more with relief than defeat. When Cal was dressed and fixing his hair in the mirror, Gideon walked to his mini-fridge and opened it, pulling the black bag from the shelf and handing it to Cal. The boy frowned at it like he’d never seen a lunch bag before. He unzipped it, peeking inside. Gideon hadn’t been too sure what the boy liked, but he had heard too many carbs wasn’t good for diabetics, so he’d erred on the side of caution with a chicken wrap, raw veggies, water, and a diabetic protein shake just in case the boy didn’t like chicken.

  “What’s this?” Cal asked, voice dull.

  “Your lunch. You need to eat to keep your strength up.”

  “I am eating,” Cal said just before his stomach rumbled loud enough for them both to hear.

  Gideon grinned. “Well, you’re nineteen. I hear boys your age are always hungry,” he said, reminding the boy of their conversation the first night they’d met.

  Cal sucked his lips in before glancing up at Gideon with a shy smile. He picked up his backpack, stuffing his lunch haphazardly into the top portion. His hand was on the doorknob when he paused as if debating something. Then, suddenly, he was back before Gideon, smashing their lips together in a messy kiss. Gideon gripped his hair, kissing him back in a way that he hoped would last them both until they could play together again.

  Then the boy was gone and Gideon was just leaning against his desk, staring at the door, his hard cock pressed against his zipper and his hands shoved in his pockets. Gideon had no idea what they were doing, but he also knew he wasn’t willing to stop. He was entitled to six weeks of recklessness. He’d struggled for so long to be the man Grant had always told him he was. What was the harm in trying to help Callum see the same in himself?

  The walk home from school was a hike, but it beat taking the bus. He and Bastian used to walk home together after lacrosse practice, but he’d had to make the walk alone since Coach had kicked Cal off the team for unsportsmanlike behavior. Even though they both knew it was total bullshit. Cal had done nothing that hadn’t happened in at least a thousand other games, but, suddenly, it was a problem. He hadn’t even injured the other player. They’d helped each other up and even shook hands, but Coach Randall said he couldn’t continue to overlook Cal’s temper and that his behavior had become an issue. Everything Cal did was an issue thanks to his father.

  “Cal?” Renata called from the kitchen.

  Cal stopped in his tracks. What was Renata doing home so early? He looked around, listening for the sound of screaming and fighting, video games blaring, or Taylor Swift pouring from speakers. But the house was eerily quiet. Where were the kids? They were almost always home before him. A feeling of unease crept along his spine. “Yeah, it’s me,” he called.

  “Would you mind coming here for a moment?”

  He wandered into the kitchen, gripping his backpack tightly instead of dropping it by the door. “Hi,” he said, when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cup in her hands. She wasn’t dressed in her work clothes but in a pair of jeans and a cozy flannel shirt, her dark hair pulled up in a messy pile on her head. She still had her makeup on, so she must have at least worked part of the day.

  Renata was the soft, comfy mom he wished he’d had growing up. She loved her kids hard, and yelled loud, and comforted them with decadent desserts and trips to the arcade, and sometimes, just piled everybody in the living room for a movie night. What they lacked financially, she made up for in love. She’d been on her own since Bastian’s dad had bailed on them right after his baby sister was born, just walked out and never came back. Cal knew statistically not all fathers were assholes, but it sure seemed that way from his perspective.

  She gave Cal a smile and pointed to the seat across from her. “Sit and talk with me for a minute?”

  Cal felt like the blood froze in his veins. There was a look on her face, this pinched, pained expression that told him whatever she was about to say was going to suck for him. Really, really bad. “Uh, yeah. Okay,” he mumbled.

  “How are you feeling? Has everything been okay with you? You look really tired.”

  “I’m okay,” he said carefully. “I’m sleeping fine. Just carrying a really heavy course load this semester. Gotta keep my grades up if I want to make valedictorian.”

  She smiled tightly, leaning across the table to take his hand. “You’ve worked really hard thi
s year, and you’ve been a big help to me with the kids. Bastian has loved having you here.” Her hand was clammy. She was leading up to something. “Sweetie, you know how much we’ve loved having you here, right?”

  Loved. She’d said loved…past tense. Oh, fuck.

  “Yeah. Sure,” he managed, biting down on his tongue until he tasted blood. He just needed to focus on the now, on the present. He couldn’t think about what was to come.

  “Is… Is there any place else you can stay for a while?” she asked, dropping her gaze to stare into her coffee cup like she was trying to read the future.

  No. Of course, he didn’t have any place else to go. His heart slammed in his chest until he felt faint. His entire family was either dead or in prison. His father’s friends had all abandoned him, and his own friends no longer wanted anything to do with him. He was too old for foster care. If he went to a shelter, somebody would steal all his stuff, and he needed his laptop for school. Without it, he’d never be able to keep up with his coursework. But none of that was her problem. He’d long overstayed his welcome.

  “Yeah, sure. No problem,” he lied, rising to his feet. “I’ll be out before dinner. Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

  “They’re threatening his scholarship,” she blurted.

  He dropped back down into the chair, wincing. “What?”

  “The school. They pulled me out of work, called me into a meeting off campus. They said you’re a bad influence on him. That he got into a fight during assembly yesterday because of you. I know you aren’t a troublemaker, Callum. I do. But you know we need Bastian to play lacrosse, and they are threatening to kick him off the team if he’s seen associating with you on the field…or off.”

  Bastian was there on an athletic scholarship. If he couldn’t play, he couldn’t stay, and that would mean missing out on full-rides to ivy league schools. He didn’t have academics to fall back on like Cal. Bastian needed to keep playing. His family needed him to keep playing. He was the only way out for them.

  “I understand. I’m sorry I’ve put you guys on their radar.”

  Renata shook her head, tears in her eyes. “You did nothing wrong. I hate that they are trying to punish you because of your father. It’s not fair. You had nothing to do with any of this mess.” She pulled some money from her pocket. “Here. It’s only about sixty dollars but it should be enough for a decent hotel for the night and a little food so you can figure out your next move.”

  Cal stared at the money. “I can’t take that.”

  She sniffled. “Of course, you can. Don’t be ridiculous. You need to take care of yourself.”

  How the fuck was he supposed to do that? He was nineteen years old. He didn’t even know how to do his own laundry or boil water. He had no money, no life skills, nothing. He had fucking nothing. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. This was all a game to them. They’d thought Gideon would toss him out on his ass, but now that he hadn’t, they were going to do an end run around him. They’d cut him off from his resources, then they’d just start finding excuses to punish him until he either dropped out or they could force Gideon to abide by the school’s honor code.

  Maybe it was time to tell Hillary he’d take another job? The idea made his stomach churn but not as much as the thought of being out in the cold and rain alone. He wasn’t there yet. He could think about it tomorrow. He took the crumpled money from her hand and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’m gonna go pack my stuff. Thanks for the money.”

  “I really am sorry, Callum. You’re a good boy. These people…they just have no souls.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  He went to his room and gathered the clothes he could find, doing his best to fold his uniform as small as possible without causing it to wrinkle. He changed into jeans, a green v-neck t-shirt, and his nicest sweater. Maybe the key to survival was just looking like he belonged? He managed to fit his test kit, his meds, and his laptop and chargers into the bag, but just barely.

  He was slipping his backpack over his shoulders when Bastian came in, hair still wet from his shower at the school. “My mom just told me what happened. I’m really fucking sorry, dude. It’s not cool at all but you know how much my mom is counting on me.”

  “It’s all good. I swear. I’ll be fine. It’s all going to be fine.”

  Maybe if he just kept saying it, it would be true. Maybe if he kept saying it, he would convince his body to believe it and quell the panic that clawed its way up his throat every time he thought about spending the night outside in the rain.

  Bastian whipped his closet open and pulled out a heavy quilted parka and a sleeping bag. “Here.” He held up the sleeping bag. “Look, this snaps right to your backpack, like this.” He snapped it into place. “And the jacket doesn’t even fit me anymore, so it will keep you warm when the temperatures start slipping. It’s waterproof.”

  Cal wanted to refuse it, just like he’d tried to refuse the money, but the truth was, he was too scared to be proud. “Thanks. Your mom gave me money for a room tonight, so don’t freak out. I’ll be fine.”

  “Listen, there was a time when we had to live out of my mom’s van for a few weeks. If you can find a parking garage, sometimes, you can find some out of the way nooks to hide in, away from the wind and the rain. Also, if you get super desperate, the bus station is open all night. That trick only works once, but with your rich white boy haircut and your fancy clothes, nobody will think you’ve got no place else to go.”

  Cal just kept nodding like one of those plastic bobble-heads he’d gotten when he played little league. It was like he couldn’t stop. “I should get going so I can find a place for the night.”

  “Sure, yeah. Right. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. Totally. Not going to fuck up my perfect attendance record now,” he said, forcing a grin to his face.

  Once he was out on the street, he slipped his headphones on and turned up his music, shoving his hands in his pockets. Bastian lived in a typical middle-class neighborhood, but Cal knew if he went south where the cheapest motels were found, he’d never make it to school on time in the morning, something he bet the board was counting on. The bus station was two towns over, and the subway was too loud to sleep in.

  So, he walked into Aventura, wandering the mall and listening to music until he grew hungry and hit the food court. He used his wad of money to buy himself a chicken salad and a water and sat, watching people until they announced the mall closing in ten minutes.

  Back out on the street, Cal wandered aimlessly until he found himself outside a familiar building. Gideon’s building. He didn’t know why he’d gone there. It wasn’t like he could just knock on the door and ask to move in…no matter how soothing the thought was. So, instead, he wandered around the back of the building where a man sat in a little booth as people swiped their cards to get in and out of the garage. Cal sat across the street. Each time somebody swiped, they would wave to the man in the booth as the metal grate rose to allow them to come or go.

  Around midnight, the man in the booth opened the door and disappeared down a long hallway. When headlights turned the corner, Cal stood, crossing the street and pretending to walk in the opposite direction. The people in the car paid him no mind. As soon as they waved their badge in front of the sensor, the gate rose. The car pushed through as soon as they were able, turning the corner, leaving Cal plenty of time to slip beneath the gate and duck behind cars, hopping over low metal walls to keep himself out of sight of the man who would soon return to the guard booth.

  It was quiet in the garage, but it wasn’t very hidden. He was afraid to sleep too close to any cars and didn’t want to take his chances with the hallways or stairwells, figuring those had to be on some security guard’s path. He’d almost given up when he saw it, a small alcove with a chain link gate and a sign warning to keep out, saying it was for building personnel only. It was locked, but there was just enough space for him to climb up and over, tossi
ng his book bag in ahead of him.

  A huge metal box sat in the alcove behind yet another fence, but there was a small space behind the concrete wall and the fence where Cal could open his sleeping bag and use his backpack for a pillow. It wasn’t perfect. But at least it felt safe. He felt safe. Somewhere, just a few hundred feet away, was Gideon. If things got really bad, he could just go there. But only if things got bad. Which they wouldn’t. He would be okay there, even if the machines whirring sound made him a little dizzy and each time somebody parked, their alarm chirped. It was still better than being in an alley or behind a dumpster. Anything was better than that.

  Gideon glanced at the clock on his desk, tapping his fingers impatiently. Callum should have been there by now. He’d made it known to the office and the boy’s teachers that Cal had lunchtime detention until the end of the year and would likely miss his free period as well. Nobody had appeared to care all that much since the board had clearly made their feelings known to anybody at their disposal. Abernathy had even seemed rather snide about Gideon punishing the boy. If she only knew how sweetly the boy had begged for it.

  But now, Cal was late. Very late. Gideon shook his head, getting to his feet and slipping his suit jacket on, before stepping into the hallway and heading towards Cal’s Global Politics classroom. Perhaps Dr. Fabian had kept the boy late to go over coursework? Two students lingered by their lockers, but neither were Cal. Gideon stared pointedly at the two and then at his watch until the two turned and headed to the cafeteria. As he walked, his gaze swept the halls and the windowed doors of classrooms just on the off chance he might spot the boy, but he found each classroom deserted.