Dedication:  Short and sweet this time - to K and A – my heartfelt thanks for everything – much more then just the wonderful and very patient (until someone said Just close your eyes, pick one and post it!) beta’ing job.  As always, my thanks and love to M - no story would be possible without him.

Dash 8/27/08

 

 

Peachtree & Broad

By: Dash

 

Looking back, I  was pathetic.  There's really no other word for it.  Pure pathetic-ness.  And to continue being honest, I guess how pathetic I was, was in direct proportion to how in love I was.

 

Like an idiot, I think for some reason I was sure John would call.  Not necessarily that night but once all the emotions of the holidays wore off and he was back home.  It was an easy lie to tell myself because of the holidays and he was gone and then I didn’t know exactly when he was planning on being back to work.  He had said that the days between Christmas and January 2nd were very slow and most people just took the whole week plus off so it was possible he had stayed in Charleston.  He hadn’t seen his parents in about a year, I remember him saying, so it seemed very likely to me.  I was feeling confident when I predicted to myself I’d hear from him some time during the first week of January.  When that didn’t happen, when Sunday night came and the holidays were officially over, everyone back to work, all the decorations down and trees sitting in the recycling mulch lots, I think I knew then that he wasn’t going to call.

 

**********************************************************************************

 

“So John left,” I said, struggling to keep my voice very neutral as I reached into the bread basket and pulled out a roll.  “He walked out a few days before Christmas and I haven’t heard from him since and I don’t think I will.”  My hand shook slightly as I began to butter the hot bread.

 

Reaching across the table, Richard covered my hand with his, giving it a squeeze.  “I’m sorry Eric.  Do you want to talk about it?”

 

I shook my head. “No, nothing really to say.”  And then it all spilled out, the pent up anger that I had been holding back for weeks.  “Can you believe he looked into my Favorites?” I asked winding down from my rant about how unfair John had been to blindside me with something so personal.  “I mean, really, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and it’s not like I would ever do anything like that to him.  He wasn’t even suspecting me of cheating! He was just being nosy and poking around. And he accused me of lying to him and leading him on?  If he got  led on it’s his own fault for snooping.”

 

The other man laughed, “Of course he was, Eric.  Hell, we’re all curious and don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing.  It’s human nature – you’re with someone for months, dating, getting serious, you’re curious to know the little details and quirks that really don’t come up in conversation.  It’s not like he put spywear on your computer or read emails.”

 

Glaring, I shook my head. “You’re missing the point.”

 

“No I’m not,” he said firmly.  “He did what anyone in that situation would do.  You’re the one that’s missing the point here.”

 

“No, I’m not,” I shot back in a fairly good imitation of his firm voice.  I held his gaze for a long moment before finally caving in and glancing down at my plate.  I was relieved to see the waiter carrying our food and for the momentary break it gave me.

 

“The point is that you did lead him on, Eric,” Richard said, picking up right where he left off as soon as the food was delivered.  “You and I talked about this exact thing barely six months ago and you said it then.  You didn’t want to lead him on but you found yourself reacting like a Top even if you didn’t want to.”  There was no anger or accusation in his voice, just a simple statement of fact delivered by a man extremely comfortable with his memory and words.  “Do you remember what I told you then?”

 

Lying, I shook my head.  I remembered what he said and didn’t need it thrown into my face again.  Richard was missing the point that I was the victim in this little disaster and I wasn’t looking for I told you so’s. 

 

“A few years ago, I would have turned you over my knee and blistered your butt for lying to me,” he said simply, taking a bite of his pasta.  “Do I need to do it again to make you fess up you knew this problem was coming and just decided to ignore it, hoping it wouldn’t?”

 

I dropped my fork heavily on the plate, causing it to clatter for a moment, and shook my head.  “Forget it, I’m not in the mood for this tonight.  I was looking for understanding and sympathy, Richard.  I didn’t tell you to hear a lecture and for you to tell me I saw this coming, knew better and it’s my own fault.”  Pushing my chair back, I stood up as I reached into my wallet.  “Sorry but I don’t want your lectures right now.  Not asked for, not welcome and certainly not appreciated when I was just looking for sympathy.”  Pulling out a ten and a twenty, I folded the bills and tucked the corner under my glass where the waiter would be sure to see it.

 

Richard laughed, taking another small bite of pasta and shaking his head.  “Sit back down and don’t be such a drama queen, Eric.  I won’t say another word about this until you bring it up, promise.  So come on, I’ll tell you all about this great club I went to over Christmas and the very cute guy I met there.”

 

Not wanting to spend another night alone at my house just slightly won over my desire to make a grand, dramatic gesture.   “No more I told you so’s, right?”

 

“Not another one, promise,” he said, lips twitching as he raised two fingers.

 

Looking at him, I shook my head and smiled, “I think that’s supposed to either be three fingers for the boy scouts or one, if it’s the right one.” 

 

Spearing another ravioli, the older man smiled, “Well, let’s just consider it a combination of the two then.”

 

Richard was true to his word and when my resolve broke later at his apartment after the second glass of wine and I told him again what John had done and said before walking out, it was easier to understand John’s actions.   In the end, I admitted that maybe looking at my favorites wasn’t the snooping equivalent of picking the lock on my diary and that yes, when given the chance I probably would have done exactly the same thing.

 

“This doesn’t mean I want to get back into a discipline relationship,” I said slowly.  My eyes were closed and I was leaning back against the soft leather of a recliner.

 

“But he seems very sure that he does,” Richard said in a mater of fact tone. 

 

“Maybe we can work something out, sort of go back to how it was before.  This just unspoken thing between us.  He can call it whatever he wants and he knows how far I’m willing to take it.”

 

Taking a sip of his own wine, the other man was silent for a moment before asking, “Do you know how far you’re willing to take it?”

 

“Sure.  No spanking.”

 

“Is that it?  You’ll stand him in the corner, you’ll dominate him in bed, I assume.  Not allow him to come sometimes? Will you sometimes simply fuck him; take him hard and fast to remind him his place in the relationship? What about the occasional swat?  Is that a spanking?”  Richard paused, giving me time to answer before he put down his glass and stood up.  “It’s getting too late for you to drive home so why don’t you crash in the guest room?”  Then, added, “If you don’t make the line black and white and fair to everyone, there’s no sense making it at all, Eric.”

 

Opening my eyes, I watched him carry out glasses into the kitchen and then head down the hall to his own bedroom.  For a moment, I considered following him, asking to be allowed back into his bed again and to be with him.  Life had a simplicity then, I knew what my role was, what my place was, what to do without really thinking about it.  It was safe and I felt and knew I was loved and accepted.  In the deep corner of my mind, the same place that loved dominating John, I understood exactly where he was coming from and why he was willing to hold out for it.  With my own head spinning with Richard’s words, I made my way into the guest bedroom and firmly shut the door behind me.

 

***********************************************************************************

 

When I’m stuck on a plot point or out of ideas for my comic strip, I find that it’s better if I just ignore the whole thing for a few days.  I go out to eat, roam bookstores, go shopping, the movies, anything besides just sitting at home in my office and staring at the blank piece of paper.  In the middle of ignoring the problem, I’ll find myself suddenly scribbling away on the back of an envelope or restaurant napkin and my block will suddenly be gone.  Only knowing that way to solve the problem, I tackled The John Problem the same way.  Thursday evening, without any real memory of starting, I found myself dialing his number.  I was really only aware of it on the second ring and then it was too late to hang up.  To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk to him or talk to the machine and was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment when I heard his machine pick up.

 

“You’ve reached 843-9072, please leave your name, telephone number and a brief message and I’ll return your call as soon as I can.  Thanks!”

 

My voice froze in my throat and I quickly hung up the phone.  Cursing loudly, I dialed back and calmly said at the beep, “Hi John, it’s me … Eric.  I was just wondering how you were doing and if you were back from your parents yet.  Give me a call when you get a chance.  I’d like to talk to you about what happened … before.”  I paused, hating to end the message that way and then quickly added, “Hope you had a great holiday and are doing good.  I’ve been thinking about you.”  As I clicked off the phone, I cursed at the last sentence and how it might have sounded.  Did it sound weak and pathetic?   Too desperate like I was sitting alone in the dark pining away for him?  I reluctantly looked around the house ... the dark house ... and realized that I had no plans for the weekend and would just be staying home.  It wasn’t a good sign.

 

By Saturday afternoon, I hadn’t heard back from him and, going slightly stir crazy, went to the movies.  Luckily, there was plenty out and I ended up having a good time.  Picking up a pizza on my way home, my heart leapt when I saw my answering machine blinking next to the phone.  Just as quickly, it sank when it turned out to be just a hang up.  It dawned on me half way through my third slice that the hang up had to be John returning my call.  He was returning my call and just like I had done the first time, hung up in panic when faced with a machine.  He just didn’t call back like I had done – he didn’t want to leave a message and play phone tag with me.  Plus, I rationalized, really talking on the phone and not leaving a message was the more adult thing to do.  Leaving a message was more passive, it put all the power on the other person to call or not call.  That was my first mistake; I shouldn’t have left a message.

 

Feeling better, I finished my slice with a smile and reached for the phone.  I dialed confidently and was honestly shocked when his machine picked up after the fourth ring.  My machine had said the hang up had been about 20 minutes before I got home so where was he now?  Bathroom?  Getting his mail?  I didn’t know but I was sure he was home, maybe just screening his calls.  Leaving a message was really only polite since he was probably sitting there staring at the machine waiting to see who it was before he picked up.

 

“Hi John, it’s me again.”  I paused, giving him time to pick up the phone.  I was a bit surprised when there was no click as the phone engaged and the machine shut off but I plowed ahead, in too deep to stop now. “Sorry I was out before when you tried to call about an hour ago.  But I’m home now so just give me a call when you get back in.  Thanks.”

 

The phone didn’t ring again until Sunday when I almost killed myself lunging for it and tripping over my shoes.  “Hello!” I almost yelled into the phone.

 

On the other line, I heard Mike laugh, “Chill man, it’s just me.  Karl and I were just talking about trying that new bar-b-que place over by you and we were wondering if you’d been, what you thought and if you hadn’t been, if you wanted to go.”

 

Swallowing my disappointment, I made a serious effort to sound enthusiastic and happy as we made plans to meet up at six.

 

As I made my way up the walk way, I saw Mike and his partner, Karl, sitting on one of the benches outside waiting for me.  Raising a hand, I waved and called out, “I’ve been eyeing this place since it opened, good choice.”

 

Opening the door, I smiled as the smoky, sweet smell of cooking meat hit me squarely in the face.  “Wow,” I muttered.  “Can we just stand here for a moment and enjoy the smell?”  The other two men laughed and I found myself naturally smiling for the first time in days.  It was good to get out, go to a new place and forget about The John Problem for awhile. 

 

Dinner was exactly what I needed, fun, great friends, excellent food that resulted in a nice take home box of ribs and sides for dinner tomorrow night.  It let me push John out of my mind for a couple of hours.  Until I got home and once again saw my machine’s light blinking in a rapid 2-message succession in the dark.  Tossing my styrofoam box on the counter, I hit the Play button.  Both were hang ups, left about 30 minutes apart, the second only ten minutes earlier.

 

Feeling a confident air settle over me, I dialed John’s number from memory and cursed as his machine clicked on at only the second ring.  That actually boosted my confidence a bit more since he was obviously screening everyone’s calls, not just mine.  Or maybe he was leaving the line open on purpose waiting for my call.  “Hi John, it’s me…..”  There was no pick up as I lamely left the rest of my message.

 

The phone rang a few minutes after nine the next morning.  Only half aware of it as I concentrated on my drawing, I picked it up without a thought and immediately drew an off line as I heard John’s voice.

 

“Hi Eric,” he said simply.

 

His voice wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming but more a bit distant which made sense to me since he was calling from work and there was no telling who might be listening.

 

“John! It’s great to finally stop playing phone tag with you,” I said, forcing myself to sound pleased but not TOO excited.

 

“I haven’t been playing phone tag with you, I haven’t called you once.  You’ve called me at least four times.”  He paused, for a moment before adding, his voice getting chillier as he spoke.  “I’m not sure what was unclear at Christmas when I said I had no desire to speak with you again.  Like I told you last month, if I left anything at your house, toss it or give it away to Goodwill.”

 

“But I’ve had hang ups on my machine,” I said, feeling the excitement at his call leak out of me.

 

“And none of them were from me.”

 

I was silent for a moment, wanting to say so much to him now that we were finally talking but also not wanting to say too much or seem desperate.  “I hated how things ended at Christmas,” I finally said into the silence.  “It’s not how I had pictured the holidays at all.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, “me either but that’s over with now.  I need to go.  I called mainly to tell you I wasn’t calling.”

 

The convoluted logic made me smile and I had to bite back a laugh, instinctively knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated.  “Can we get to get together?  I feel like I’ve got a lot of explaining to do to you and things you need to understand.” I blurted out the question while it was still half formed in my mind.

 

It was his turn to be silent, so long that I thought the phone had been disconnected.  Just as I almost said something to fill the silence, he finally broke it.“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

I knew what to say, it just came to me as instinct took over and so much of the anger and self-doubt drained out.  In a calm voice, I said, “Thinking isn’t the same as knowing.  I’ll be at the bar where we had our second date tonight at 6 and I’ll stay until 6:30.  Come see me and we’ll talk.  There’s a lot I feel like I should explain to you and that will help this situation.”  And with that, I hung up.    Simple, firm, decisive; exactly what a Top should be and exactly what a Brat would respond to.

 

John didn’t show up.

 

*******************************************************************************

 

Picking up the phone the next day, I placed my fourth call in the last eighteen hours, this one to his office. 

 

“John McAllister,” his voice said followed by a computerized woman’s voice saying “is not available.  Please leave your message at the tone.”

 

I did exactly that, repeating where I would be and when I’d be there.  The three previous calls had been exactly the same – short, direct and to the point.  I left the first one at 6:31 as I walked out of the bar; the second at 8:59 to respect his dislike of calls after 9 pm; the third at 9:30 the next morning and now the fourth one at 1:30

 

The pattern repeated until I glanced up Thursday evening and saw him walk in at 6:05.  I know it’s clichéd to say my heart leapt into my throat or he took my breath away but it did.  It had been almost a month since he had walked out and I had somehow forgotten exactly how he moved confidently, weaving around chairs, nodding to the waitress as they made eye contact and came to my booth.  In my fantasy, he would have slid in next to me, hugged me tight and said how sorry he was as I was saying how sorry I was.  We’d both laugh and all the tension would dissolve away and we’d go back to my place together and catch up on lost time.

 

“How long were you going to keep up the calls until I agreed to see you?” he asked in a neutral voice, sliding in across from me, not bothering to take off his coat.  “Just iced tea,” he said as the waitress stopped at the table, giving her a smile he hadn’t spared me.

 

I smiled, “You said that four is what got your attention last time so I figured it should work again.  I don’t know how long I would have kept it up.  I really wanted to see you.”

 

“Well, I’m here now.”  His voice wasn’t unfriendly; he didn’t look mad or defensive.  He was just removed, coat still on, slouching slightly and avoiding most eye contact.

 

While this wasn’t going exactly how I had planned, I focused on my earlier calm and determination.  John was right when he said I had been lying to him and he deserved to know the truth.  “You were right when you said I had been leading you on, giving you signals and acting a certain way and then saying No when you  read them correctly.”

 

His head jerked slightly, turning so that he was making eye contact instead of staring at a point off my left shoulder like before.

 

“I know that hurt you, I know you were probably embarrassed and I am so sorry for that.  I never thought that you’d pick up my signals; I didn’t even consider them signals, I was just doing what I do and acting how I act.  But,” I took a deep breath, feeling his eyes on me.  “I’m so sorry I hurt you.  If I could take it back, I would.” 

 

“Take what back?” he asked softly.

 

“How I handled everything at Christmas and really before that.  I should have been honest with you and I wasn’t.”

 

“What else haven’t you been honest with me about?”  There was a touch of anger in his voice and I could all but see the walls surrounding him thicken in protection.  “What else have you lied about?”

 

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say lie --” I started but then stopped myself when I saw his expression and knew that it was not the time to quibble over words, no matter how loaded they were.  “Lie of omission, I guess would be right.”  Taking a sip of my beer, I plunged ahead, determined to lay it all out on the table so John would understand where I was coming from, understand why I had said No and let us move on beyond it.  “So you know about a year ago, I ended a two year relationship with a guy named Terry.”  Pausing again, I saw John nod slightly.  “He approached me when I was at an S&M bar with Richard, even though that’s not what I was into.  We started talking, dating and then moved in together with the understanding that we would live in a full time discipline relationship.   I think it would have been easier if it hadn’t worked from the start but that’s not the case.  We got along well, he was eager to please, responded well and we fell into a nice pattern.  After about six months, it started to change ever so slightly.”  I paused again so I could take a sip.

 

“How?” John asked after a moment.  He was still looking at me and seemed more interested than when he had originally sat down.  Both hands were resting on the table instead of being jammed into his pockets and I took that to be a positive sign.

 

Shaking my head, I said, “It’s sort of hard to explain.  I think it was more a feeling than any direct actions at first.  It just seemed like he wasn’t taking the relationship seriously.  We’d go over the same rules over and over and I’d punish him for breaking them and it would happen again.  So I’d punish him harder thinking that’s what he needed.   After awhile, it had turned into a massive power struggle and game for him.  Almost like a kid who knows they’re not supposed to touch the vase and will slowly inch their hand toward it, looking at you to make sure you’re watching.”  I shook my head again, remembering the stressful last months of my relationship with him.  “Nothing I tried work, I tried to talk to him about it multiple times but just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a game for him.  To me, it wasn’t a game at all – it was a lifestyle, full time, 24/7, for the whole relationship.”

 

He shifted in his seat slightly and for one of the few times since we had met, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

 

Continuing, I said, “So in the end I told him it wasn’t working for me and then it got ugly.  According to him, it wasn’t working for him either and it was, of course, my fault.  I was abusive, I couldn’t read him, I didn’t listen to him, didn’t pay attention to his needs, whatnot.”  I tried to keep my voice matter of fact as I remembered the last big fight we had before Terry had stormed out of the house.  “I felt an obligation to patch things up with him and tried for a couple of weeks but in the end, realized that while I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t alone in causing this problem and if he wasn’t going to work with me, there was nothing I could do alone.”  As I said the words, I realized that John could hear them as applying to our current situation and that’s not what I wanted.  “I’m telling you this just to sort of explain where I was coming from, what I thought of when you brought up the idea of a discipline relationship to me.  When I first learned about them, what attracted me to them was the structure and order it could bring to a relationship.  But in reality, it seems like it turned into a game and massive power struggle.  I can’t do that again.  It scares me to think about getting back into that with you because I don’t want to destroy our relationship.  But at the same time, but not doing it and by so callously saying No to you, I feel like it’s on the brink now.”

 

John was silent for a moment, looking at me before glancing down at his tea, swirling it in the glass for a moment while he seemed to gather his thoughts before looking back up and meeting my eyes.  “We’re both adults and because of that, we both bring baggage into all relationships.  Baggage from parents, schools, lovers, lack of lovers, everything.  I learned several years ago that if I’m going to get what I need to make me happy, I have to set it all aside.  Acknowledge my baggage, understand that it’s shaped me but at the same time, lay it down.”  He smiled slightly, taking a sip of his tea before continuing, “I’m just sorry that you haven’t learned that and are still dragging baggage around with you.  I’m not Terry, I didn’t give you a paddle as a gag gift and I certainly don’t see that kind of lifestyle as a game.  I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to move on.”  Taking another swing of his drink, he slid out of the booth.  “Maybe if you had ….”  The words trailed off as he gave a shrug.  “Who knows. I guess it’s a moot point.”

 

It was certainly not the reaction I had expected.  I think I was expecting sympathy, understanding, not a callous dismissal and basically being told that we all deal with stuff like that and I needed to move on.

“But I’m glad you told me,” John said.  “And I’m glad to know that you didn’t do it on purpose.  Thank you for that at least.”

 

“I’d never hurt you on purpose, John,” I said honestly.  “I love you. I want to work this out.”

 

He smiled and gave another shrug.  “Not to be mean or anything but I just don’t believe you.  Words are easy and I’ve learned quickly that yours can sound very nice when it’s what I want to hear.  But, like I said, this is all a moot discussion.  You haven’t moved on.”

 

Reaching out, I touched his arm, “What if it’s not moot?  What if I know I need to move on but it’ll just take me some time and I need your help?”

 

John looked at me for a long moment before stepping back slightly, breaking my hold on him, “If is a huge word, Eric.  See you later.”  And with that, he turned and walked away.

 

This time I didn’t bother to play the If He Turns game with myself.  I knew he wasn’t going to turn.  And I was right.

 

It takes a lot for me to admit I was scared but I was the next Wednesday night.  It had been almost a week since I had last seen John and it was killing me.  Dealing with foolish people, wishy-washy idiots who dithered around any decision, had always been one of my biggest pet peeves.  I had zero patience for people like that and was scared I was becoming exactly that.  Picking up the phone, I dialed his number and, as expected, heard the machine pick up.  In a calm voice, I said, “It’s not moot and there’s no Ifs and I don’t need more time.  I need you and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back, prove to you what I’m saying is true and keep you.  I’ll pick you up Saturday evening at six for dinner and a movie afterwards.”  Yes, there was some fake bravado behind my voice and confidence and there’s no way I could honestly say that I had put down all the baggage I was carrying from Terry but that was OK.  Fake it until you feel it could be a very good motto for getting through tough situations and this was one of them.  Plus, despite John’s high words about not carrying around any baggage himself, I knew that was a lie and his was just as heavy and as high as mine.

 

Saturday evening, I walked up the stairs to his apartment, remembering the first time I had come up after the Braves game and how unsure I was of our relationship when he seemed totally confident in it.  Now, I was the one who was confident and it was up to me to convince him that it was OK to trust me.  I hadn’t heard from him and there were butterflies in my stomach at the thought of him not answering the door.  Pressing the bell outside his door, I was rewarded a long moment later by sound from inside the apartment and the door opening.

 

“Hi,” he said, standing in the door way.  He was dressed in dark jeans and a sweater and looked happy to see me.

 

Leaning in, I kissed him quickly on the cheek, “It’s good to see you.”

 

I could see him take a deep breath at the contact and for a moment, I was scared he was going to decline to go, say he had other plans, something.  Instead, he gave me a small smile.  “You too.”  Glancing behind him into the apartment, he said, “I’m ready to go when you are.”

 

“Great.  How does Mexican sound to you?”

 

“That’s fine,” he said evenly.

 

When I went to put my hand on his back like I had done when we were dating, he moved away slightly without a word.  Undeterred, I still opened his car door before going around to my side and sliding in.  “Did you look at the movies playing?” I asked a few minutes later as the silence wore on.

 

“Yeah, there were several all starting right around 7:45 or 8 at the big 18 screen place, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

 

His voice was friendly if not exactly open and warm and I decided not to push the situation.  Pushing right then, I knew, would only annoy John and make him dig in his heels and do the exact opposite just to prove he could and would.

 

The conversation warmed up as dinner progressed with the help of a busy restaurant and away from the oppressive silence of the car.  As we had done in the past, we split a bowl of queso and we both got our usuals.  Opening my wallet, I started to put down my credit card when John stopped me by touching my hand – the first real contact he had initiated.

 

“I thought I got the dinner and you get the movie and popcorn,” he said, giving me a small smile.

 

I smiled back, withdrawing my hand.  “You’re right even though I’m not sure how that little deal got struck considering you always want popcorn and candy.”

 

He laughed, taking up the bill to carry to the counter. “I usually get what I want.”  A faint shadow passed across his face and he stood up quickly.  “We probably should get going.”

 

Agreeing, I scooped up both our coats and held them while he paid the bill.  The cold air took my breath away as we stepped outside and I turned toward John checking to make sure he had put on his coat when I saw the expression on his face.  He looked deep in thought with his mouth set in a line, lips pressed together.  I wanted to ask him if he was OK but I honestly knew the answer.  It was an emotional evening for us both and me asking questions I already knew the answers to wouldn’t help.

 

Once in the dark of the theater, previews over and the main feature beginning, I reached for his hand and took it, resting them together on the arm rest between us.  I felt him flinch at the touch and try to pull away a couple of times but then relax into the routine and normalcy of our actions.  We each had a coke and our own popcorn and John had a bag of plain M&Ms that he insisted on dumping bit by bit into the popcorn and eating together.  He also didn’t resist except to make his customary snort when I reached over and stole a handful of his mix.  I wouldn’t have wanted to eat a whole bag but I did enjoy the mix of sweet and buttery and salty.  Plus, I knew it was something he expected.

 

The movie was perfect, funny and interesting and an excellent distraction.  It also gave us something to talk about on the ride back to his place.

 

I pulled into one of the parking places near the stairs and put the car into park but left it running. 

 

John stared out the window into the cold darkness for a long moment before finally asking in a quiet voice, “Do you want to come upstairs for a drink?”

 

“I’d love that,” I said honestly, shutting off the car.

 

“Do you have any condoms with you?”

 

The question took me totally by surprise and I wasn’t sure I had even heard him correctly.  What other word could be close to condoms I didn’t know but I managed to say, “What?”“I’d like to have sex but I’m not doing it without protection,” he said, turning to face me.  “I’m not ready to be that intimate with you.  Sex is fine and I think we’d both enjoy it but not without a condom.  I’ve got a box I think, but I’m not sure.”

 

I nodded and leaned over, causing him to pull back, “I think there’s a box in the glove compartment,” I said, popping it open to reveal the black and silver box.   

 

“Good,” he said in a matter of fact tone as he opened the car door to get out.

 

Still slightly stunned by the massive turn of events, I quickly made my way through the darkened stairs and up to his apartment.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”  I asked as he opened the door and I followed him inside.  “This isn’t what I was intending at all when I asked you out.”  It wasn't the most enthusiastic invitation to sex I'd ever gotten but it was an opening.  I would take anything right now, just to try to break down some of those walls.

 

“You don’t want to fuck, Eric?” His tone was still matter of fact, not unfriendly but not warm either.  “It’s been a month since I, at least, have done anything.  If you’ve been enjoying yourself on the side ...”

 

“Don’t be insulting, John,” I snapped back sharply.  “I’m interested in patching things up and making this work.  I haven’t cheated on you.”

 

He shrugged, taking off his coat and tossing it on the couch.  “I don’t know if it’s cheating or not since we had broken up.”

 

“I would consider it cheating.”

 

“Me too,” he said, softening a bit.  “But regardless, I’m interested in sex, you’re here, so let’s do it.  You know I’m not some weak little boy who has just been pining away and going to become a monk if we don’t get back together.”

 

I shook my head, “I never thought that.”

 

“Good,” he said simply, turning and heading into the bedroom.

 

He had only taken off his sweater as I entered the room and shot me a quick look as I started to undress in the darkness.  Neither one of us had bothered to turn on a light and somehow it didn’t seem necessary.  Sliding under the sheets, I squirmed as the cold cotton made contact with my bare skin.  I was only half hard when John strolled over and slid in next to me.

 

“That’s not going to work,” he said quietly, reaching out and touching me. 

 

His hand was cool and I could feel my skin breaking out in goose bumps.  It only took a moment before I was hard enough to reach for the condom.  “God,” I breathed out, closing my eyes for a second.

 

“Here,” John said still in the same calm, quiet voice of before.  Taking the condom, he quickly ripped it open and unrolled it.  “Oh, nice,” he said, giving a little laugh.  “Ribbed.” 

 

I laughed too, feeling a bit of the tension leave the room.  “Only the best for you.”

 

He smiled, meeting my eyes and gave another half shrug as he coated one hand with lube and quickly applied it.  “That’s right.  I’m worth it and I won’t settle for anything less.”

 

As he bent down, I thought for a moment he was going to kiss me and I welcomed the connection.  Instead, he did something he had never done before.  Raising up on his knees, he straddled me and, using his hand, guided me inside so he was slowly impaling himself.  His own cock hardened, jutting out as he went further down, taking most of his weight on his own legs.  “John,” I said in a tight voice, the sight of him that way hardening me more.  Reaching out, I grasped him around the waist to help with his balance.

 

“I’ve got it,” he said, as he slowly raised himself up a bit before coming fully down again. 

 

Not removing my hands, I was entranced watching him rock and rise and fall, using his own muscles.  I wanted to touch him so badly but was almost afraid to move and break the spell, invade his own space.

 

His eyes were closed and I could see a sheen of sweat breaking out along his chest and arms with the effort.  “Eric,” he breathed, closing his eyes as he rocked, grinding himself against me.

 

“I’ve got you,” I said softly, moving a hand off his hips and settling on his cock.  Stroking it, I tried to concentrate on what I was doing instead of what he was doing to me and half succeeded.  I’m not sure if it was my efforts---I hoped it was wanting the connection between us--- but he took one hand that had been resting on my chest and covered my hand.  Hands intertwined together, he came a minute later with a moan as his legs weakened and he settled, still fully impaled, on me. 

 

Breathing hard, his eyes still closed, he sighed.  “Excellent.”

 

I laughed, feeling the pulse from my own hard cock still throb.  Grasping him around the waist, I pulled him down against me.  “What about me?” I asked.

 

His eyes opened and he gave a half shrug.  “I don’t know, Eric.  What do you want?”

 

Smiling, I said, “You.”  I kissed him, brushing my tongue against his lips that parted only slightly in response. 

 

“You don’t know what to do with me though when you have me.  You want me, but you don’t.  You love me but you don’t.  I have to take care of myself.”

 

The double meaning of his words and the matter of fact tone of his voice surprised me.  I had thought we were making progress and my explanation the other night had made him understand.  “That’s not true, John.”  My voice was low.  “I explained that to you the other night.  I thought you understood.”

 

Pulling free of me, he rolled off and settled himself on the bed, facing me.  “I know you offered an explanation last Thursday and I understood.  I really did.  And I know you’re saying there’s No Ifs now but I don’t believe you.  It’ll take more than nice words and a confident voice message and a fun date to convince me, Eric.  I was yours, heart and soul.  And I gave both of those to you fully and freely and you tossed it right back at me.”  His voice was thick but strong as he looked right at me without flinching.  “I’m not some wilting wall flower here just waiting for some half-assed apology that’s just words.  You know what I want and if you want it – me - too, you have to prove it to me.”

 

I could feel my blood rising as his voice got cooler.  Sitting up myself, I glared at him.  “I’m trying, John.”

 

“Great, keep trying,” he shot back. 

 

Getting up, I stripped off the condom and tossed it in the trashcan by the bed.  Scooping up my clothes, I quickly started getting dressed.  “I explained about Terry.”

 

He twisted around on the bed. “Yeah, you did.  Like ten days ago.  It would have been nice to have been told about three months ago when you knew we were getting serious.”

 

“And exactly why would I explain a Discipline Relationship to you when I had no idea you were even interested in it?” I shot back.

 

He snorted, “Oh please!  Don’t lie to me again, Eric and tell me you didn’t know.  You knew, you picked up my signals as loudly as I picked up yours.  You just decided to ignore them because it’s what suited you.  I picked up your signals and had no idea that even though you were giving them out, you didn’t really mean it.  It was all a game for you or something, some sort of chess match where you’d move just enough to draw me in before pulling back completely and acting shocked and horrified when I took your bait.  It was some big joke to you, I’m sure.  The stupid kid that you could laugh at later.”

 

His words hit me like bricks and I knew he was right.  As much as I had tried to deny it and offer numerous explanations to myself, to him, to friends, that was exactly what had happened.  I leaned against his dresser, half sitting on the top as I looked at him sitting naked on the bed.  The wall around him was gone, at least for the moment and I could see the hurt and embarrassment again in his eyes that I had caused.  I had known all along what I had been doing, saw it as some sort of game maybe where I could get what I wanted without giving what he wanted from me, tempting him when I had no intention of following through.  I looked at him for a long minute, our eyes locked before I slowly broke the connection and finished getting dressed.

 

Walking over to him, I leaned down and gently ran a thumb down his face and kissed him softly.  “I’m sorry, babe,” I whispered.  “You’re right.  I was giving you signals and I knew what you were doing too. I was so wrong to not tell you about Terry, I could have without going into a lot of details.  Or hell,” I smiled slightly, “gone into details.  I should have trusted you with that. I’m sorry I didn’t and I’m so sorry I got us both into this mess.”  I kissed him again before standing up, “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

 

He looked at me, “What?”

 

“It wasn’t a joke, you were never a joke and I never laughed at you.  I swear.”  Giving him another half smile, I said, “I just hope that you’ll give me a chance to fix what I’ve broken and make it right for both of us.”  Turning, I slipped out of the room, through the apartment and down to my car.  I knew which window was his bedroom and I couldn’t help glancing up toward it.  Even though it was dark, the light from the numerous street lights illuminated the glass and I would have sworn I saw him standing there.

 

************************************************************************************

 

The next four days were hell.  I couldn’t call him and he certainly didn’t call me.  If I had been religious, I would have prayed for a miracle.  Instead, I read – D/s, S&M and DP essays online, self-help books, books about DPs and power exchange relationships, getting back in touch with my own needs and wants again after ignoring them for so long.  I also realized, sometime in the middle of the night of the fourth day that I was still angry at Terry and at myself.  I was still ashamed of how that had ended and that I, the person supposedly in charge and responsible for the relationship, had failed in my own mind.  I think it was the idea of failing again that really scared me.  It wasn’t being in a DP again that I didn’t want to do, it was that I didn’t want to fail again.  And the easiest way not to fail again was simply not to start.  Wanting to call John, I rolled out of bed and padded over to my phone.  As much as I wanted to talk to him, I knew he wouldn’t have liked a phone call from me at 3:30 in the morning even when we were together, much less now.  Instead, I dialed his office.  “John, it’s me,” I said after the tone. “I was laying in bed tonight thinking, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.  And it hit me, I’m not afraid of being in …”  I paused, deciding that some discretion was best at work, “a relationship with you.  I’m scared of failing at a relationship with you and hurting you badly.”  I paused again, not really sure what else to say and suddenly feeling stupid.  “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you.”  Hanging up the phone, I went into the kitchen for water. 

 

I almost dropped the glass when the phone rang.

 

Thinking it was a wrong number, I picked up. “Hello.”

 

“Hi,” John said.  “I got your message.”

 

“What the hell are you doing at work this time of the night,” I asked sharply.  “Why aren’t you home getting some sleep? This better be some fluky thing with a conference call to Russia or something, John, and not your normal work pattern right now.”  Instantly afraid he would hang up, I thought about apologizing but thought better of it.  He wanted honest and that was honestly what I thought.

 

Instead of hanging up, he laughed, “It’s a bit of a pattern right now but I feel fine.  I’m not home asleep because honestly, I can’t sleep so I just lay there awake.”  Turning quieter, he continued, “Everything is so fucked up right now, I figure at the least, I can not be a disappointment at work right now.  I’m in the lead for Star of the Quarter, I’m sure.”  He gave another short laugh, “Reserved parking spot, two free Braves Tickets and a fifty dollar Visa Gift card.  It’s so worth it.”

 

I laughed with him, shaking my head in disbelief.  “It sounds like it.”

 

“I miss you,” he said in a softer voice.  “And I’m sorry too.”

 

“What are you sorry about?”

 

He was silent for a moment and I heard him take a deep breath.  “I should have handled the whole Christmas thing better.  I should have talked to you about it first and not just thrown something at you like that – literally.  I wanted it to be a gift I was giving you but I should have talked to you about it.  I was just scared and embarrassed and had no idea how to start the conversation.  Giving you that as a gift just seemed … easy.”  His voice was low but strong, with no hesitation.  “Hindsight’s 20/20.”  He laughed again ironically.

 

“So where do we go from here, babe?” I asked in a gentle voice. 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

I was silent for a moment before deciding what and who I needed to be.  “Well, luckily, I do.  Have you had breakfast yet?”

 

He snorted, “It’s almost four; nothing is open.”

 

“There’s plenty open, John.  Be downstairs – in the lobby, don’t be waiting outside for me, it’s cold and dark,” I ordered firmly.  “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

 

He was silent again and I was scared that I had once again overstepped some invisible boundary he had drawn around himself.  Finally, he said, “OK.  I’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

 

“Inside,” I repeated.

 

Laughing again, he said, “Yes, yes, Eric.  Inside.”

 

Twelve minutes later, I pulled into the circular drive in front of his building and was pleased to see him dutifully standing just inside the door of the lit, empty lobby.

 

“Hi,” he said, suddenly shy, as he slid into the car. 

 

“Hi,” I repeated with a smile, pulling away. 

 

John was right and there were only three places I could think of that were open at this time of the morning – or night, depending on how you wanted to look at it.  Luckily, I knew exactly where we were going.  The Waffle House’s yellow sign was bright in the darkness as we pulled into the half filled parking lot.  There were two women sitting together dressed in scrub outfits, a group of college kids and three solo diners that were dressed like John, in various degrees of business clothes.  After ordering, I studied him.  “You look tired,” I said.

 

He gave a shrug, “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

 

“Me either.”  The silence between us was comfortable, not the awkward tension filled silence of our date the previous week.  After getting our drinks, I broke it, reaching across the table and gently stroking the back of his hand cupping a thick white mug of coffee with my finger.  “So what are we going to do, John.  We’re both sorry.”

 

He gave a short laugh and smiled at me, “I think in more ways than one.”

 

I laughed and nodded, “I’d agree with that.”  Taking a sip of my own coffee, I smiled at him, still stroking the back of his hand, “Why don’t we sort of back up and take it slow.  Let’s go out for lunch, do something this weekend together.  No pressure, we’ll go at your pace. Let’s just ease back into each other’s lives.”

 

He glanced out at the night for a long moment before turning back to me and giving a half nod.  “I want to so badly, Eric.  But I was serious too about what I said in December.  I need,” he glanced around the restaurant to confirm that no one was paying any attention to what we were talking about, “I need and I want to be in a DP.  I don’t want just a vanilla one, even with you.”

 

“I know,” I said honestly.  “I understand and accept that.  My need right now isn’t the same as yours but it’s something I’m very open to talking about and seeing what we can work out.  It might take me a bit more time but I’m not opposed to it at all.”

 

“I want to believe you,” he said, shaking his head again.  “I really do.  But it’s just words at this point and words are easy.”

 

I shook my head as I leaned in closer to him and lowered my voice even further.  “Well John, words are all I’ve got at this point unless you want to go back to my place or yours and I spank you.”  I gave him a wicked smile as he blushed  a deep red, shaking his head slightly.  Pulling back a bit, I shook my head too, “I didn’t think so and to me, that .. kind of relationship is about a lot more than .. that.  Isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed giving me a small smile before sitting back as the waitress brought our food.

 

Nodding, I gave him another smile, “Yeah.”

 

The rest of breakfast was good, not as easy as our pre-Christmas meals, but still good and I could feel us slowly starting to become more comfortable with each other.  The problems and hurt feelings and disappointments were out on the table and slowly we were learning to deal with them.  As I made the turn into his building’s lot, I made a quick left into one of the empty visitor's areas and away from the lights of the entrance.  Putting the car in park and undoing my seatbelt, I opened my door and said, “Come out for a second, John.”  I shut my door and went around to his side where he was just stepping out.  “May I kiss you?” I asked softly, shutting his door so we were both in the shadows, hidden from the drive by the car.  In the darkness, I saw him smile a bit and nod.

 

“Do you want to?” he asked softly.

 

Without answering, I pushed him gently against the car and leaned in.  My arms went around him, holding him close as I rested one hand on his butt, the other at the small of back to hold him steady.  I started gently at first, working my way around his lips, pausing for just a moment to tease open his mouth for a quick dart inside with my tongue before moving on.  Settling back a long moment later, my tongue once again slipped inside as I felt him begin to respond and move with me. 

 

“God, Eric,” he sighed, pulling free for a second before gripping me closer and squeezing my waist. 

I could tell in the darkness that his eyes were closed as he leaned into me, letting me take much of his weight as he slowly rubbed himself against my own hardening erection.  “Do you like this, babe?” I asked softly as I squeezed his butt. 

 

“No,” he said with a giggle, the first I had heard from him in a month.  “Not at all.”

 

“Oh, and here I was thinking you were happy,” I said with my laugh, rubbing up against him as I moved from his lips for a brief moment to concentrate on the sensitive spot on his neck that always made him shiver.  “I guess you stole a banana from the restaurant.”

 

He laughed again, squirming beneath my touch, “I guess so.”  With a sigh, he pulled back slightly as he shook his head.  “I’m going to come right here if we keep this up.”

 

Smiling, I leaned in and stole one more quick kiss before reluctantly letting him go, knowing he was right.  “As much as I hate you working right now, I am so glad you were working.”

 

John smiled, opening the car door.  “Me too.”

 

Going back around my side, I drove slowly to the front entrance, gripping his hand across the seat.  “Tomorrow’s Thursday--” I started.

 

“Today,” John interrupted.  “Today is Thursday.  Very early Thursday.”

 

I laughed and nodded, “You’re right.  So today is Thursday, do you have plans for tomorrow night?  Can I take you out?”  I saw him hesitate, again, glancing out the window to think.  Not wanting to ruin what we had going, I hastily added, “Or Saturday, some place nice and public, no pressure.  I just want to spend time with you and let us catch up.”

 

Turning back to me, he smiled and nodded, “Let’s say Saturday, I was always coming over on Friday and it might be a good idea to do something  different for awhile.  I’ll come over to your place around four and we can talk about what we want to do?  How does that sound?”

 

“Like an excellent idea,” I said, wishing with all my heart I could kiss him again.  I smiled as I saw him lean slightly forward, wanting the same thing before pulling back again reluctantly.

 

He opened the door with a sigh, “OK, see you then.”  Then, smiling again, he added quickly, “Thanks Eric.” 

 

Before I had a chance to ask for what, he slammed the door and made his way inside the building.  Watching through the glass until he was safely in an elevator, I pulled away with a smile on my face.

 

*******************************************************

 

I had just put away the vacuum cleaner Saturday afternoon when my doorbell rang.  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw it was only 3:30 and I was shocked to see John standing on the front porch, hair damp from the cold rain coming down. 

 

“I’m sorry I’m early,” he said as I opened the door.  Giving a small, embarrassed shrug, he smiled, “I didn’t want to be late and I think I underestimated the amount of time it would take me to get here.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” I said with my own smile, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s such a miserable day, you’re going to get sick being wet.”

 

He held up a shopping bag.  “Because it’s so crappy, I thought maybe staying in would be a good idea so I got movies.  I know you said we could go out but ...”  His voice trailed off as he glanced outside.

 

“Excellent idea,” I said, leaning in and kissing him.  “You’re brilliant.”  Taking his coat as he kicked off his shoes by the door, I made my way into the kitchen, pushing the lever for the thermostat higher to warm up the house more.  “I was just going to make some hot chocolate, why don’t you come in here and keep me company?”

 

Opening one of the kitchen drawers, I fished out a towel and tossed it into his direction.  “You’re dripping.”

 

He glanced at me, with a quick smile.  “Sorry.” Watching me for a moment, he asked, “Can I help?”

 

“Nope, you’re fine,” I said evenly, pulling out a pan to heat the milk up in.  “What movies did you bring over?”

 

Walking into the kitchen, he instinctively lifted himself up easily and sat on the edge of the counter running along the side wall.  “The Great Escape, the third Indiana Jones  – that’s the one with Sean Connery,  The Changeling, which is seriously the creepiest movie I’ve ever seen and the first Beverly Hills Cop movie.”  He must have seen the questioning look on me face because he smiled again and shrugged, “I didn’t know and figured classics were best.  But then I couldn’t decide what might be the best mood for this little …”  His voice trailed off as he glanced at the floor and then out the kitchen opening toward the dining room.

 

I gave the milk slowly heating on the stove a stir before glancing over at him with a smile.  “Date?  Get together? Tete-a-tete? Dinner and a movie?” 

 

“Get together,” John said firmly.  “This is a casual, no pressure, no assumptions get together.  And I wasn’t sure what kind of movie would be best for that.”

 

“Well, I think you did great,” I said as I stirred the cocoa mixture into the steaming milk.  “Want to put the

marshmallows into the cups for me?”  My heart skipped a beat as he gracefully slid off the counter and padded over to the cabinets before bending down and pulling the marshmallows from one of the lower shelves in the pantry.   Struggling to focus my attention back to the drink and away from how his jeans clung to the curve of his butt, I asked the least sexy thing I could think of.  “So how was the visit to your parents?”

 

Sitting in the dining room next to each other I stared out the doors and watched the rain beat down on the glass. Just looking at it made me chilly and I shivered slightly, dragging my attention back to John’s description of his visit home.  “At least they were happy to see you,” I said as he finished.

 

“Oh yeah,” he said, giving me a wry smile.  “They’re always happy to see me and immediately want to know when I’m moving back.  Mother even arranged for me to be the one to hand carry some random gift basket over to the home of one of my former girl friend’s parents.  She just happened to be visiting for the holidays too.” The irony was clear in his voice.

 

I laughed, “No sparks?”

 

“Ummm…” he said with a funny look on his face. “Not that I would be interested, but romance and relationships were really the absolute last thing on my mind at Christmas time, Eric.”

 

I had the good manners to blush slightly, ducking my head as I drank deeply.  “Right.”

 

John took a long sip of his drink, staring out at the rain for a long moment before saying into his cup, “Can I ask you a question?’

 

“Of course,” I said quickly, putting down my mug.  “I think that’s one of the reasons we’re together right now, so we can figure this out.  We can’t do that if we don’t talk or ask questions.”

 

“Remember that Friday a few months ago when you were really pissed because I was late?” John asked quietly, not totally avoiding my eyes but not looking directly at me either.

 

I smiled, leaning slightly toward him and reaching out with my foot and gently bumping his, making him flash me a quick smile.  “I remember a few months ago I was pissed because you didn’t call.”

 

Giving a quick embarrassed laugh, he nodded, “Yeah.”  He took another sip of his drink before continuing, “So why did you have me stand in the corner?  Had you been thinking about it while you were waiting for me or did it just happen? What did you think I would do? Or were you not really thinking and just acting or … what?”  The questions came out in a rapid rush and then just as quickly trailed off.

 

I took a the last long drink from my mug as I tried to remember exactly what was going through my mind.  “I was frustrated,” I began slowly, thinking back to how I was feeling.  “We had talked about you calling if you were going to be late and you hadn’t called.  I was a little worried but not overly concerned, it wasn’t that late yet.”

 

“Yeah,” he said softly.  “It was like six-ish when I got here.”

 

“Right, so not late enough for me to be concerned.  I don’t think I had firmly thought out exactly what I was going to say or do or anything like that.  I wasn’t really thinking about it that way.”  I smiled, reaching out and tapping his hand still cupped around the mug.  “You know what really did it?”

 

John smiled, “What?”

 

I smiled back, “You telling me that you were only twenty or so minutes late and that it wasn’t long at all.  I wanted to show you just how long twenty minutes could feel like.”

 

He laughed, glancing down at the table for a second.  “I should have kept my mouth shut then.”

 

I chuckled, saying, “Sometimes it’s a good habit to get into.  I knew twenty minutes was too long …”

 

“That’s right,” John said, interrupting, “it was only ten.  I was shocked it was only 10, it felt a lot longer.”  He paused for a second before asking quietly, “Were you mad at me?” Even though we were sitting at right angles to each other at the table, I moved closer, leaning up and pulling his hand toward me so I could hold it.  Giving it a squeeze, I nudged him again with my foot so he’d look at me.  “No,” I said firmly.  “I wasn’t mad at you.  I was annoyed at your actions but I wasn’t mad at you.”  It almost seemed like I was splitting hairs but I knew what he was asking.  “I might be upset and annoyed but at your actions only, not you personally.”  He nodded but I wasn’t convinced he saw the difference I was trying to make. 

 

Pulling back and sitting back against the chair, he nodded, glancing out at the rain again.

 

Silently debating with myself for a moment, I decided to be honest as I reminded myself that John wasn’t Terry and if this was going to work, I was going to have to learn that fact fast.  “Do you want to know something else?”

 

He smiled at me, “What?”

 

I gave a nervous laugh, suddenly feeling unsure of my decision but knowing it was too late to back out now.  “When I was walking you to the corner, I really wanted to spank you.”  The look of surprise on his face made me instantly worried.  “Maybe not spank,” I corrected, “but definitely swat you a few times.  I was annoyed and wanted to sort of get that message across.”

 

John blushed and then asked quietly, not looking at me, “Over my slacks?”

 

I nodded as I knew instantly that I had made the right decision.  “Yes, when I first put you in the corner.  Sort of to punctuate my point.  It wouldn’t hurt badly but it would have gotten your attention for sure. You would have felt it while you were standing there, gave you something else to think about.”

 

“I suggested that afterwards and you sort of blew me off.”  There was no accusation in his tone, just a simple statement of fact.

 

“I did and I’m sorry about that.”  Looking at him firmly, I added, “It won’t happen again.”  When he didn’t say anything else, I switched gears a bit.  “What were you thinking that evening,” I asked.  I had honestly given very little thought to the incident since that night and was now suddenly curious.  Plus, the open conversation was encouraging between us and I wanted to know his thoughts.

 

John shrugged, “I don’t know.”

 

I laughed, swatting playfully at his hands sitting on the table as he jerked them away with a smile.  “How would you have felt if I said ‘I don’t know’?”  Then lowering my voice, I said, “Come on, babe, talk to me?”  I wished at that moment we were not sitting in the brightly lit dining room and instead were in the cozier living room so I could hold him close, kiss him easily and pet him while he struggled.  Suddenly making up my mind, I stood up, confident that if I moved quickly enough, the fragile threads of connection and conversation would not be broken.  “Come on,” I said, holding out my hand for him.  “We’ll be more comfortable somewhere else.”

 

Wordlessly and with only a moment’s hesitation, he took my hand and let me pull him up. 

 

I leaned up slightly and kissed him quickly, “I have a feeling this is going to be a longer conversation.”  I led him out of the kitchen and into the living room.  The blinds were open against the gray light and one of the smaller table lamps was giving the room plenty of light to see easily.  Sitting down on the loveseat, I pulled him down with me, both of our feet going up onto the large ottoman in front as we got settled.   Shifting a bit, I put one arm around his shoulders while he leaned into me with a small sigh.  “Comfortable?”

 

Not answering for a moment, he leaned his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes.  “Yeah,” he finally said softly.  “I was mad.”

 

Pulling myself away from the wonderful sensation of him once again in my arms and back to the question, I nodded.  “At what? Or who? Me?”

 

He laughed, shifting slightly.  “You, of course.  I certainly couldn’t be mad at myself for being stupid and stubborn when you were blowing everything out of proportion and just not understanding.”

 

“Of course not!”

 

He laughed again before turning  more serious.  “It was weird though.  I was so mad when you pushed me into the corner and told me to stand there and then totally embarrassed for the first bit while I was standing there.  I could like feel my neck reddening and getting hot and all I could think of was how stupid I probably looked.  How mortified I would be if anyone ever found out.”

 

I held my breath, not wanting to say anything as his voice trailed off as he remembered the feelings and emotions.  Just as I was about to say something, he spoke again.

 

“After a few minutes though, I sort of got past it.  I thought about how worried you probably had been.”  Twisting around a bit, he smiled at me, adding, “Or how worried I thought you were.”  Settling back against me, he continued softly, “And then I thought about how I had really screwed this whole evening up because I was worried about screwing it up by getting caught up at work and it was just a mess but it got my mind off the fact that I was standing in your dining room facing a corner.”  He laughed for a minute and shook his head.  “It was a real roller coaster for me, Eric.”

 

Unable to resist, I bent my head and kissed his hair, “I know and I can’t promise it’ll always be better.”

 

John nodded against me but didn’t say anything else.

 

Feeling that we both needed some time to process all that had been said, I kissed him again and asked, “You want to watch one of the fifteen movies you got?”

 

He laughed, pulling himself up so he could twist fully around and glare at me.  “Four, Eric.  Just four.  Four very different, excellent movies.”

 

I grinned, bowing my head in his direction.  “I stand corrected.”

 

“Or at least sit corrected,” he deadpanned before laughing.  “You think about what you want to watch while I get them and find your remote.”

 

It was hard not to feel my heart beat faster as he walked across the living room and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with the bag of movies.  It was something he had done countless times and something I was hoping would be happening again.  “How about The Changeling,” I said.  “I’ve never seen it.”

 

He laughed, dropping the bag on the couch after getting the movie out.  “Excellent choice – George C. Scott, cool old house, a ghost and political corruption.  What more can you ask for?”

 

Thinking there were plenty of other things I could ask for, the biggest one currently standing in my living room fooling around with the TV and DVD player, I just smiled.  I moved a bit as John automatically came back to the love seat and sat next to me as the movie started.

 

It was the perfect movie to watch and amazingly enough kept my interest even if my mind occasionally drifted to John and the feel of him sitting next to me.  I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking but also didn’t want to ask.  As the closing credits started to scroll, I glanced at the clock and was shocked to see it was after six already.  The afternoon had gone by and it was now pitch dark outside.  “Are you getting hungry?” I asked as I reluctantly stood up and stretched, my bladder making movement a necessity.   Glancing out the window, toward the street illuminated by a light, I saw that it had stopped raining.  “It’s not raining any more.”

 

John sat up and looked at me for a long moment as if trying to decide what to say.

 

“Hold that thought,” I said quickly, “I need to use the bathroom.  When I come back, we can talk about dinner.”  I didn’t have to go that badly but seeing him thinking hard made me instantly concerned that he was about to announce that he had to go – he had agreed to a movie and that was now over; that dinner never was in the cards.  After I carefully washed my hands, putting off my return as long as possible, I made my way back into the living room and my heart sank when John wasn’t there.  A second later, I heard a noise in the kitchen.

 

“Eric? You back?” he called out from the other room.

 

Walking in, I saw him staring into my fridge and freezer, both wide open.  “You have no food in here,” he said, making a face and glaring at me.  “What do you eat?”

 

I shrugged and laughed, leaning against the counter.  “I think there’s a frozen pizza.”

 

Sparing me a withering glance, he resumed his futile search.  “Pitiful,” he announced again.  “You don’t even have spaghetti sauce or I’d just make us some pasta.  You have nothing in this house.”

 

“It’s Saturday!” I protested with a smile, “You know I go shopping on Sunday.” 

 

He closed the compartments and walked over to me and shook his finger mockingly.  “What if there was an ice storm and you were trapped here? You’d starve or worse, be stuck at the grocery store buying milk and eggs and bread with all the other idiots.”

 

Leaning down, I gently grabbed his finger between my teeth, pulling it gently.  “I could eat you.”

 

John froze for a moment as the sexual tension between us suddenly sprung alive again.  Seconds after the double meaning to my words hit him, his blushing started.  He pulled his finger away slowly as I turned my bite into a sucking and then kissing motion.  “You could. Do you think you’d want to?” he asked softly. 

 

Without missing a beat, I moved slowly and began kissing his neck, pulling him close against me like in the parking lot several days before.  “I can think of nothing better.”  Kissing his neck, I allowed my hands to roam down his back and rest on his butt.  As I felt him lean into me, his own hands going around me, I moved to his lips and, hesitating at the corners for just a moment, possessively pushed my way inside with my tongue.  The movement of my tongue inside his mouth seemed to trigger something and his previously still hands began to tug at my shirt and waist band. 

 

“Eric,” he breathed out, pulling back slightly with a shiver.  “Do you really want to do this?  I mean .. last time …”

 

“I really want to do this, John,” I said.  “I understood last time; we don’t have to talk about it.”  I knew that this time would not be a quick, impersonal fuck between two angry people.  I wanted more and I was sure he did too.  Unfortunately, that was not going to happen in the kitchen.  “Come on, babe,” I said, pulling away reluctantly as I took his hand. 

 

“Back to the living room,” he laughed, allowing himself to be led out of the kitchen. 

 

I laughed, “If you want but I was thinking we might be more comfortable in bed.”

 

“You’re so smart,” he said, laughing again happily.  “That’s why I picked you.”

 

It took only moments before we tumbled onto the bed, not bothering to turn on the lights or even remove clothing.  As I fumbled with his jeans, laughing and squirming as he fumbled with mine, I said, “So you picked me, huh?”

 

“Hell yeah,” he said, sliding around and stealing a quick kiss as his jeans were finally kicked free.  “If you’ll remember correctly, I invited you up to my apartment that first night for a drink.”

 

Finally free of my own jeans, I quickly sat up and stripped off my own shirt.  I sat back on my legs, straddling John and smiled down at him.  “You’re right, you did.”

 

He reached out and pulled me back down on top of him, spreading his legs so I could lay between them, his cock half hard against my own.  Turning his head, slightly, he whispered into my head, “If I didn’t want you, you could have died of thirst before I asked you up for a drink.”  Running his fingernails down my side, he said, “I picked you and I still want you.”

 

Unable to resist any longer, my cock throbbing in my shorts, I pushed his own boxers down, partially exposing him to view.  “What do you want, John?” I asked softly, bending my head as I began to kiss my way down his chest, pushing his underwear down as I went.  Breathing out slowly as I traced the thin line of hair connecting his belly button and his groin, with my tongue and lips, I laughed as he giggled and squirmed. 

 

“That would be an excellent start, Eric.”  He arched again, legs spread wide as I took him into my mouth.  “God,” he moaned a minute later, squirming as his hands twisted in the sheets, legs spread wide.

 

“Let go, babe,” I whispered, coming up for a air for a moment, kissing the inside of his thighs and blowing gently on his throbbing cock. 

 

“God, don’t do that,” John ordered with a laugh, “I can’t take it.”

 

I laughed, innocently asking as I repeated the move.  “Do what, John?”

 

“Bastard,” he breathed out as I took him again in my mouth.

 

Feeling his balls tighten and hearing his breath quicken, I pulled back, resettling against him as my hand quickly finished him and he came.   “That’s right, John.  Show me how much you loved it,” I ordered, kissing him again along the jaw line and smiling as his faint stubble scratched against my lips.

 

“Your turn,” he said softly between breaths a moment later.  Shifting his legs, he spread them a bit more and wrapped them around my legs, opening himself up.  “Just you.”

 

Struggling for control, I pulled back and looked down at him for a moment, wanting to make sure what he was saying and that we were on the same page.  “Are you sure, John.  I don’t mind wearing …”

 

He kissed me, looking at me squarely as he held my gaze.  “No one else, right?”

 

I shook my head seriously, “Never even crossed my mind, John.  Not even close.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I swear.”

 

“I believe you,” he said with a smile, “and that’s why I want you.”  Twisting slightly, he grabbed the lube off the night stand and handed it to me with a smile.  “I want you now, Eric. Right now.”

 

Luckily, I perform excellently under pressure and judging by John’s reaction as I finally came deep inside of him several long minutes later, he agreed completely.

 

 

We ended up ordering pizza, neither one of us in the mood to get redressed immediately and battle the crowds that were out on a Saturday night.

 

He glanced at the clock as the second movie of the day ended and sighed, pulling himself up from the cozy nest of blankets we had made to glance out the window at the rain that was coming down again.  He hadn’t bothered to redress totally and the sight of him in just his t-shirt and boxers got my cock’s attention.  “I guess I should get going,” he said softly.  “It’s almost ten.”

 

“You don’t have to,” I said with a smile.  “There’s still two movies to watch and it’s cold and wet out there.  You can spend the night.”

 

John shook his head. “No.  I told myself that I wasn’t spending the night and I don’t want to.  This has been great and all and I think we got a lot out on the table that needed to be said but …”  His voice trailed off for a moment.  Giving his head a quick shake, he continued quickly.  “I know what you’re saying, you know what I’ve said and we just have to have time to settle it between us.  Words are cheap, Eric.”

 

I hated what he was saying but also knew I had no choice but to respect it.  If I had tried hard enough, I might have been able to convince him to stay but that wouldn’t have been right and no way to start this second phase of our relationship.  Standing up, I walked over to him and took his hands to kiss them gently.  “I hear what you’re saying, John.  I do and I respect it.  And I also know that we’ll work this out soon.”

 

Nodding but not saying anything, he quickly pulled away and walked back toward the bedroom.  Appearing fully dressed a few minutes later, he gave me a small smile.  “This was fun.  We should do it again.”

 

I nodded holding out my hand as he came closer.  As he folded himself into my arms, hugging me tight, I was instantly afraid I was going to cry as a wave of emotions washed over me.  “How about tomorrow?” I smiled and laughed as I felt him laugh against my shoulder.

 

“I would love to say Yes but I think I should say Monday would be better.”

 

“Are you sure?” I asked softly, wanting to kiss him again but holding off.

 

John laughed, pulling away, “No, not really but .. I’m saying Monday.”

 

Kissing him one final time before walking him to the door, I nodded, “Monday.”  Then, opening the door and seeing the rain, said, “Stay here.”

 

He laughed, “What am I – a dog?”

 

“Hush, I’m getting us an umbrella.”  Pulling a large golf umbrella from the small hall closet, I stuck it outside into the rain and opened it fully.  Stepping out onto the porch, I held out my hand, “Come on, let’s see if you can manage to stay dry.”

 

“I won’t melt.”

 

I could see the bemused expression in his eyes and also heard something else .. appreciativeness maybe? Or pleasure at the bit of coddling?  I wasn’t really sure but I was happy when John took my hand, wrapping an arm around my waist to stay close,  huddled with me under the nylon. Like opening doors for him, I never wanted him wet or cold or uncomfortable if I could help it.  It’s simply what One did.  I held the umbrella high as he slipped inside the car and then smiled as he started it up and rolled down the window.

 

“Not a drop on me.  I guess I’ll have to prove I don’t melt another time.”  He laughed, leaning up a bit as I leaned down and kissing me again.  “See you soon, Eric.”

 

Not stepping away from the car until his window was once again rolled up against the weather, I waved as he pulled out.  A sudden flash of his car the last time as it pulled away from my house caused my stomach to clench.  But this time, I would have sworn I saw a quick wave through the rain and darkness just before he put his car in drive after backing up. 

 

***********************************************************************************

 

“God Eric,” John moaned, eyes tightly closed as one hand dug into my thrusting hip and the other stroked his own cock quickly.  “Harder .. no, slower .. god .. like that.  Yes!”

 

I laughed, thrusting all the way inside of him for a long moment while I leaned down and kissed him, thrusting my tongue inside his mouth, effectively silencing him.  “You are very bossy tonight, babe. First you all but attack me when you get here and now you’re giving directions,” I whispered, as I pulled back from the deep kiss.  “Does that mean I’m not doing a good enough job?”

 

He laughed, spreading himself wider to wrap his legs tighter around me, holding me still and fully inside of him.  “No, not at all,” he said with a lazy smile.  “I just can’t decide if I want to come, if I want you to come or just stay like this, doing this for a long time.”

 

“So who said you were in charge here?” I asked with a smile as I began to thrust slightly, well within the confines of his legs.  I laughed again as a deeper blush spread along his already flushed face and bent down, kissing him again.  The feel of his hand between us as he continued his strokes and the battle for dominance going on between our kisses spurred me on as my thrusts once again got stronger and more complete.  “Come for me, John,” I ordered softly as I concentrated on thrusting fully each time, almost coming out of him, the head of my cock opening him wide.

 

He moaned and cried out as his hand sped up.  “I can’t take any more, Eric.  You have to stop.  It’s too much.”  Squirming and legs scissoring, squeezing tight against me, he bared his teeth and with a final cry, came hard into his hand.

 

The feel of him coming sent sparks through me as his muscles contracted around my cock, squeezing it as if to hold it in place inside.  Giving several more full thrusts, spurred on by his cries, I sank fully into him and came with a satisfied groan.  As my cock jerked and spasmed inside, I leaned down, kissing his face and lips gently as we both struggled to catch our breaths. The small, primal part of my brain that was still working was smugly pleased with the idea of coming inside him, marking him as mine and knowing that he would feel the mark and know who he belonged to.

 

“Excellent,” John breathed out a moment later and then moaned again as I slipped free.  “I hate that part,” he whispered, rolling onto his side to face me, pushing up closer to continue the contact and kissing.  “It’s like being suddenly alone and empty and it almost hurts each time.”

 

“Real pain?” I asked, pulling him close, feeling myself starting to drift off.

 

“No, just empty and alone.”  His voice was tired and heavy and a moment later, he was asleep.

 

I awoke ten minutes later to the quiet sound of John’s breathing and the heavy weight of him against me.  It felt very good and very right.  Running a hand down his bare back, I grinned as he squirmed slightly before going still again.  I wondered briefly if he was ticklish, it hadn’t come up before but now I was intrigued.  It might be a very useful weapon if he was.   Laying there, listening to him breathe, I couldn’t help but marvel at how spectacular this Wednesday evening had been. 

 

He had arrived early again on Monday; some of the closeness and ease had been lost over the couple days apart.  But dinner had been good and we ended up in bed together before he reluctantly got up to leave around nine.  The sex had been good, better than Saturday but still a bit hesitant, testing the waters and getting reacquainted with buttons and sounds and feels.   Tonight, Wednesday, had been a different story with John coming in early and aroused already. 

 

“I was so afraid I was going to get stopped by the cops,” he said, with a laugh as we fell into bed, struggling to get clothes off as quickly as possible.  A trail had been left from the living room, leaving no doubt what was going on.  “It was hell, Eric.  I want you so badly, I feel like some stupid teenager who is going to have to make sure he’s always carrying a book around with him and it’s all your fault.” 

 

Laughing, I eyed him and let out a soft wolf whistle as I settled down on top of him, spreading his legs with my knees.  “I’ll gladly take credit for this, John.  No arguments from me.  Want to tell me I did so I can make sure I do it again?”

 

With his hands roaming over my back, scratching slightly as we began to kiss, John laughed.  “You called me.”

 

I pulled back slightly, looking down at him and nodded solemnly.  “I did – I called to make sure you were OK with meatloaf for dinner.”

 

“That’s what did it,” he said with a smile, “you calling me.  The sound of your voice, asking about dinner, knowing that I was going to be coming over here, knowing that we’d be doing this.”  He squirmed, rubbing his half hard cock against mine. “It was enough to get the imagination going, the blood pumping and I could barely contain myself.”

 

Settling back down, I whispered, “Meatloaf.”  And then concentrated on making his reality live up to his imagination.

 

************************************************************************************

The pattern continued for another week with him coming over or us meeting every other day.  Our ease and familiarity with each other were quickly getting back to where it had been before Christmas with one exception.  John still hadn’t spent the night and the subject of long weekend sleep-overs hadn’t been approached.

 

“So Friday is Mike and Kirk’s anniversary party – open house thing,” I said, spooning sauce over the spaghetti I had made for us.  “It starts at 7:00 so we probably need to leave here by 6:30 or so with traffic.  I’d love to just make an appearance, wish them well, eat a bit and then be out of there by 8:00 and go get dinner ourselves.  How’s that sound?”  Looking over at him sitting in his customary spot on the side cabinet, I grinned, “I’m also assuming you want to have time for our customary activities when you get home.” 

 

John laughed and nodded. “Can’t break tradition now. And dinner after sounds better than standing around making small talk on a Friday night.”  He was wearing a pair of my sweatpants and long sleeve t-shirts.  The pants were a bit short on him but it was better than getting back into work clothes and he still resisted the idea of keeping clothes here again.  “I should be here by 5:15, 5:30 at the latest.  Did you get them a gift?”

 

Coming over, I spread his legs part and stood between them.  “John.”

 

“What?” he said with a smile, pulling his legs together around me.  “Again?  We haven’t done it in the kitchen in awhile.”

 

Despite myself, I laughed before turning serious again.  “You’ll call me if you’re going to be late, correct?  I expect a call if you are not going to be walking through the front door at 5:15.”

 

He twisted away slightly, “Or 5:30, Eric. Traffic, you know.”

 

Tapping him on the hip to get his attention, I shook my head.  “5:15 or a phone call, John.  Agreed?”  When he didn’t answer, I repeated his name. 

 

“Fine, Eric.  I heard you: 5:15 or a phone call,” he shot back in an annoyed voice.  “I’m not an idiot.”

 

I leaned up and kissed him. “I wasn’t implying that you were but I wanted to make sure we were both perfectly clear on what the expectations are.”  I rested my hands on his legs. “Do you remember what we talked about a couple of Saturdays ago? When we were talking about the last time you were late and I stood you in the corner?”

 

I had his full attention now as he faced me and nodded slowly.

 

“Good, keep that in mind.  I don’t intend to make the same mistakes again. Neither of us will be happy if you’re late and don’t call.”  Watching him for another long moment to see if he was going to say anything, I gave him a last kiss before walking back to our dinner. 

 

“Words are easy, Eric,” John said almost too softly for me to hear.

 

As I pulled the pan of garlic bread out of the oven, I turned around. “What?”  I had heard him fine but wanted to see if he’d repeat it.

 

He smiled, sliding off the counter, “I said that dinner looks like it was easy.”  Laughing as he came toward me, picking up the two plates of spaghetti, “Considering you made it.”

 

Allowing the lie, I laughed, “Hey!  If you keep it up, you can do all the cooking, you know.”

 

John leaned over and kissed me quickly, giving a mock frown.  “Your cooking is excellent, Eric.  Just maybe needs a bit of expansion. Man can not live on a rotating menu of various casseroles, pasta and 101 ways to use ground beef.”

 

“Sure he can, I’m living proof!”  The playful banter gave an easy rhythm to the evening and helped with the healing of the still sore and tender areas.

 

I wasn’t exactly shocked when it was 5:30 on Friday and John wasn’t at my house and hadn’t called.  In the back of my mind, I knew the DP question was coming to a head and being late was an easy, safe, issue for him – us – to initially grapple with.  It wasn’t a big issue but it was firmly cut and dried, no gray area unless there were some fluke occurrence and cell service was down or his phone was broken.  I knew that wasn’t the case though – I knew his phone was in perfect working order, the cells were fine and he was thumbing his nose at me either deliberately or unconsciously.  I knew from my own experiences with Richard and Terry and from studying, that it was probably a toss up as to why John was late.  But, regardless whether it was on purpose or subconscious, it was the deciding factor for us.  I would either act like a Top or I would rant, rave, and be mad but take no other actions. Fish or cut bait; shit or get off the pot; the midnight hour; whatever you want to call it, it was time I had to decide.  Luckily, I knew my answer.  I also knew that John wouldn’t be thrilled with my decided course of action but the reality is that Brats aren’t always thrilled with the decisions their Tops make.  The relationship means that they have to accept it like John would have to accept this. Or not.  Regardless, the question would be settled.

 

The door opened at 5:34 according to the stove clock.

 

“Hi!” John called out as if it was a normal Friday and he didn’t have a care in the world.

 

I was dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt, my slacks and sweater were already pressed and ready to be put on as soon as I was out of the shower.  John, too would have time to take a quick shower and change when we were done.  Coming into the living room, I eyed him.  Typically, I wasn’t one to ask stupid questions but this was the start of something new for us and I wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding.  “What time is it, John?”  I was pleased to see his poker face was still lacking as he blushed slightly.

He shrugged, dropping his small duffle bag with his change of clothes on the floor, “I don’t know.  It’s about 5:30, plenty of time Eric.”  Moving closer to me, he smiled, “Plenty of time to enjoy ourselves before we have to go and be social for a few hours.”

 

“What was the conversation we had about calling,” I asked firmly.  I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t ranting but I also knew that I wasn’t going to play his game. 

 

Giving me an oh-so-innocent look that he couldn’t quite pull off without smirking, he said, “Oh yeah.  I’m sorry.  I meant to call before I left the office and then when I pulled my phone out to call in the car, I got distracted by my favorite song on the radio and then the traffic report and then dealing with traffic.  By the time I remembered again, I was only like ten minutes from here and it seemed silly to waste minutes on that. You know?”

 

If I hadn’t already made up my mind what I was going to do, what course of action this little incident was going to take, I would have turned him over my knee right then and paddled him.  The smirk, the elaborate explanation and the fact that he clearly didn’t care and felt no remorse whatsoever would have driven me to it.  “No, I don’t know.”  Taking his arm, I walked him unresisting into the kitchen area with me.  “I’m not putting up with this, John.  I told you that a few days ago and you agreed to call or be on time.”

 

“So now I’m going to stand in the corner and think about it?” His voice was defiant as he mentally dug in his heels.  “What happened to enjoying ourselves before dinner?  It's routine and you love routines!”

 

Unable to resist, I gave in and swatted him hard across the butt in three rapid strokes to the same area.  “I’ll be enjoying myself, don’t worry,” I said over his started yelp.  “Stand there and don’t turn around until I come and get you.”

 

“That hurt, Eric,” John said, twisting lightly to look at me.  “Aren’t you supposed to say something like 'This hurts me as much as it hurts you,' or something?”

 

“Eyes forward or I’ll do it again.  And no, trust me, this doesn’t hurt me as much as it’ll hurt you.  I’m not the one who didn’t call.”

 

“Ass.”

 

Walking over to him, I pressed myself against his back, “Excuse me?”

 

“I didn’t say anything,” John said. 

 

I resisted the urge to swat him again and instead simply patted his butt. “Either say it to my face John or don’t say it at all.  Muttering under your breath is passive aggressive and cowardly.  DPs are designed to get rid of the passive aggressiveness that kills relationships.  We’re upfront and honest with each other and face problems head on, dealing with them.”  The words were simple but straightforward and firm.  Kissing him on the back of his neck, I patted his butt again and then left him standing there alone.  I saw him twitch as the stove’s timer beeped as I set it for 10 minutes.

 

“Are you mad, Eric?” John asked softly several minutes later.

 

“No.”  I was sitting at the table quietly drawing a random tree, something I could do quietly and still stay in the same room as him. 

 

“Then why are you doing this?”

 

I debated silently about telling him to hush but decided against it.  This was something new for him and if talking helped then that’s what I was willing to do.  There were very few hard and fast rules I felt obligated to obey and No Talking During Corner Time wasn’t one of them.  First Do No Harm was much more important.  “I’m doing this for several reasons, John.  The biggest is because we agreed that you’d either call or be home by a certain time and you weren’t.  There are consequences to breaking agreements – promises - and this is one of them.”  I paused for a second, wondering how to phrase it.  “If there aren’t any consequences for breaking promises in a relationship then it erodes away at trust.  And if I can’t trust you, why would I want to be in a relationship with you?”

 

“What are the other reasons?” John asked, twisting around a bit to look at me.

 

“Turn back around and we’ll talk about it later.  A big discussion is not what this time is for unless you are truly unsure why you’re standing there.”  Not getting up, I looked at his back, “Is that the case, John?”  When he didn’t answer after a moment, I tried to get back to my drawing but instead ended up watching and studying him.  We both jumped a bit as the timer went off in the quiet room.  Cursing myself for not catching it before it went off, I stood up and came up behind him.

 

John didn’t move from the corner and sighed as I wrapped my arms around him again.  “Can I turn around now?” he asked quietly.

 

Tightening my grip slightly on him, I shook my head, “No.”  I felt him jump slightly under my hands, not the answer he was expecting. 

 

Trying to twist around, he said, “I don’t know why I didn’t call.”

 

I forced myself not to give in to his soft words and sorry attitude, especially considering the fact that he hadn’t said he was sorry.  It was hard not to compare him and the situation to Terry but the ghosts were still there and I knew what past mistakes I wanted to try to avoid this time.  Hugging him tight, I kissed him quickly.  There was a final step to this punishment that was important for us to take and for John to accept.  “It’s not fair to me when you’re late and don’t call, is it?”

 

“No.” 

 

There was a note of defiance in his voice that wasn’t unexpected but also told me that my initial thinking was correct.  “We usually enjoy each other when you get home, we talked about it, it’s something that we both like and look forward to.  Now, it’s too late.”

 

John gave a short laugh, “We could try.”  Twisting slightly, still facing the wall, he tried to turn to find the clock.  “We have to leave at 6:30, right?  We still have at least 30 minutes, plenty of time.  Especially since we don’t have to leave exactly at 6:30, you always build in some wiggle room.”  He laughed again, wiggling his hips, “Wiggle room, get it?”

 

“Stop John,” I said firmly, reaching down and swatting him hard again across the butt.  “We’re not done yet. This is your punishment, not mine.  You were the one that was late, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But your actions also affect me.  I didn’t get to enjoy spending quiet time with you this evening, catching up on how your day was, how you were.  We didn’t get to relax together and yes, I didn’t get to enjoy you in my bed.  It’s been something we’ve both wanted and liked---it’s a time to reconnect with each other.”  Staying firm and calm, I kissed the back of his neck, pressing myself against him. I was pleased to see him nod slightly in agreement to my words.  “Put your hands up on the wall, John.”

 

“You’re right, Eric.  We didn’t get to do that but I didn’t do it on purpose.  Like I said--”

 

I held up my hand. “Stop.  I heard what you said and purpose or not, your actions affected me and affected our relationship.  Correct?”

 

He nodded but wisely kept his mouth shut.

 

“Is that fair to me or to our relationship?”

 

Shaking his head, he had the good grace to glance at the floor as he raised his hands slightly and pressed them against the wall.  “No, it’s not.”  He swallowed, shifting slightly and then asked in a quiet voice, “What are you going to do?”

 

I reached around him and quickly undid his belt. “I’m not going to do anything to you John.  I’m just going to talk and explain what I would do to you if you were my Brat and I was your Top and you pulled a stunt like this."  Brushing aside the belt, I quickly undid the slacks and ignored John’s quick intake of breath and squirming as I pulled them down.  “Step out,” I ordered firmly, resting one hand on his back and the other around his waist to hold him steady.

 

“Eric ...”

 

“John,” I said, kissing him again and rubbing his back briefly, “hush.  You had your chance to talk and now it’s my turn.”  I scooped the slacks up and, keeping one hand firmly on John, laid them somewhat neatly on the back of one of the chairs.  My hand on him wasn’t to hold him in place, there’s no way I could do that if he really wanted to turn around or be free but more for a connection.  My touch told him in ways louder than any voice, that he wasn’t alone or by himself or forgotten – I was right there with him and I wouldn’t let go.  “Bend down slightly, keep your hands where they’re at but take a step or two backwards so you’re bent over slightly.” 

 

He took another deep breath and for the first time I think felt some apprehension as to what I was doing and what would happen.  “Can I ask a question?”

 

“That’s perfect,” I said softly as he settled somewhat into the position I wanted him.  It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t have to be and I wasn’t judging him right now.  “You can always ask,” I said, stroking his back, allowing my hand to rub down his butt.  “I may not answer you or I might tell you hold the question but you can always ask.”

 

Taking a deep breath, he blurted out, “Are you going to paddle me?  I really don’t want to be paddled this way.  I’ll bend over a table and you can use a belt or strap on me that way.  Not this way, my way’s better, OK?”

 

I was thankful he couldn’t see my expression at the idea of bending him over a table and beating him with a belt.  The idea of doing that to him, or anyone I loved, was horrifying---cold and brutal.  “No, not OK. I’m not going to spank you and certainly not either one of those ways.”  Rubbing his back again, I said in a soft voice, “Relax, listen to my voice and trust me.”

 

“OK,” he said in a small sounding voice.

 

Resting my hands briefly again on his butt, I quickly reached up and slide down his shorts, letting them go down just below the curve of his butt.  He was completely exposed and the feeling was driven home by the feel of the waistband still around his thighs.  For most people, there’s a difference between being completely naked and knowing that someone has just lowered your underwear enough to expose your butt.  Settling myself behind him, I curved my hand into the crease and spread it apart slightly.  “I want to make sure you’re completely aware of what I’d do to you right now if you were my Brat,” I said softly.

 

Shifting under my hand, John took several deep breaths but remained silent.

 

Concentrating on my tone of voice, wanting to get the right pitch of firmness, calm, strength but also very dominant without sounding like a controlling ass, I was quiet for a moment, enjoying the feel of John twitching slightly under my hand.  “I’d bend you over like this or maybe over the arm of the couch or love seat, some place where your butt was easy access for me, just like this.  So I could see it, and touch it and slip my finger inside you so I could tease you with it.  I’d make sure you were nice and hard, whimpering a bit under my hand before I removed it.”  I ran a finger gently over his exposed opening, pushing inside just the smallest bit and felt him jerk slightly.  “Then, I’d make sure you knew that your hands were to stay firmly where they were at and that you would not get to come this evening because you were late and broke a rule.”  Pausing again, I kissed the back of his neck, rubbing my slacks against him as my hands rested there, spreading him apart. “We’re going out tonight and I would want you to remember that, when you’re out and talking to other guys and having a good time with them, you belong to me, that you came with me, that you’re going home with me, that I’m proud to call you my lover and be called that by you.  And the idea of marking you to help you remember all that, thrusting and kissing and petting and stroking before coming deep inside of you.  This way when you’re sitting at dinner tonight and shift in your seat, you remember what I was doing and know what sort of marks my lips left on your chest and what sort of marks you lips left on me and you blush, squirming slightly which just reminds you again of where my cock was and how it felt to be inside you.  That’s very appealing to me. Is it appealing to you?”

 

John didn’t answer immediately but his voice was firm and sure as he said, “Yes.  Very much so Eric.”

 

“But we’re not going to be able to do that now since you were late.  We don’t have time to be soft and gentle, with both of us marking each other.  Instead, I’m going to spread you apart like I am now, with you in this sort of position and fuck you.  It’ll be hard, not hard enough to cause damage-- you’re too precious to me to ever hurt you like that – but hard enough that it’ll be a punishment of sorts.  You’ll feel me thrusting in and out, spreading you wide and splitting you in half, over and over again in a rhythm that moves and excites me without worrying too much about you.”  Pausing again, I reached around and stroked his half-hard cock. “This will be hard, of course, harder than it is now because you love what I’m doing to you but I won’t let you come.  You’ll want to come, you’ll be throbbing and maybe crying out of frustration and humiliation but also relief and contentment, an overwhelming mix of emotions of being used for my pleasure and knowing that you belong to me.  This is for my benefit and part of your punishment for being late.  I’ll finally come inside of you after several long minutes, satisfied at least in the knowledge that when you’re sitting tonight and you move, you’ll remember full well who you belong to. You’ll probably curse my name for being heartless and mean and picky about something you think is no big deal.  And I bet you’ll blush remembering what I did and how much you hated it and also loved it and know it’s exactly what you want and need in a relationship, in a lover.  You don’t want someone who will let you get away with all those No Big Deals that ultimately kill a relationship.  You don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be in charge of everything, including you because then you don’t feel safe and cherished and protected.  The domination and submission and discipline and sex are tightly intertwined for me, John.  If you were my Brat, this is what it would be like and what I’d do to you this evening for being late, this is how you’d probably feel.  It’s not a game for me, it’s a lifestyle, 24/7. You won’t always like it or agree with me but you’ll agree to it and thrive and feel more loved than you ever have before because you know how much I love you and it’s the kind of relationship you need as much as I do.”

 

“Yes,” John said softly, his breath still coming raspy.

 

“Is this what you want, John? Do you want to be my Brat, knowing that this is how I’d punish you tonight?  Fully consenting to and wanting this sort of relationship?”  Giving his butt one last gentle pat, I pulled his shorts back up.  “Think about and let me know.” I kissed his back and then helped him stand straight up.  He was shaking in my arms and kissed me gently before resting his head on my shoulder for a moment.  I thought he might cry but his eyes remained dry.

 

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and looked me in the eye, saying in a quiet but firm voice that could easily match my own, “Without a doubt, I'm sure Eric.  But are you sure?”  The emphasis on ‘you’ told me he was still questioning my commitment. “Because you have to be doing this because you want it and because you think it's the right thing for us and our relationship, not just because it's what I want and you don’t want to lose me.  It doesn’t work that way and will just end up a game.  That would be worse than never starting."

 

I nodded, taking his hands in mine, “I want this.  This is the kind of relationship that I need too.  I want to be in charge, not just to control things but because I like to know and have the responsibility of having the ultimate say.  I want your opinions, I want a partner but I also fully believe that someone has to be in charge and make the final decision.  Relationships don’t thrive being run by a committee of two.  Discipline is necessary because without consequences to breaking the rules, it doesn’t work.  I refuse to get into a nagging, shouting, passive aggressive blame game of a relationship.  Problems are sorted out much quicker with set rules and firm discipline.” Smiling, I fought the urge to kiss him as he smiled slightly back at me before turning serious.  “Think about this tonight, John.  Really think about the realities of this kind of relationship and you let me know when you’re ready to talk about it.”

 

“I don’t need to think about it--” John started before I stopped him.

 

Shaking my head, I kissed him, running a hand over his butt.  “No, you need to think about this and what I told you I’d do to you.  So go shower, think about it, change your clothes.  We’re going to go smile and make nice at a party and then go get some food.  We’ll finish this tonight when we get home or in the morning after you’ve decided.”

 

He smiled at me, making a show of clamping his lips shut for a second before laughing, the tension and seriousness leaching out of the room.  “I love you, Eric.”  Before I had a chance to say anything, pull him into a hug and change my mind about going out and how much time I was willing to give him, he winked and walked out of the kitchen, swiping his slacks off the chair as he left.

 

Shaking my head slightly, I couldn’t help but grin after him.  My Brat .. or hopefully my Brat… was no shrinking, shy violet despite his habit of blushing at the mere hint of sex.

 

We arrived with a small group of other guests, nicely placed in the middle of the requested drop in time.  When there’s still plenty of food, no one is drunk, the hosts are still speaking to each other and there’s still  time left after putting in your appearance to go out and have some fun.  Several times I caught John looking at me, studying me maybe or just looking for me in the crowd as we got separated and pulled into different groups of friends and acquaintances.  The last time I caught his eye, he was perched on the edge of a table and I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as my lips twitched into a smile.  He squirmed and even though I couldn’t see it, I was sure he was blushing as he suddenly stood up.

 

Making what looked like his excuses, he headed in my direction with a smile.  As he eyed my plate, he leaned in close and whispered, “So, if I were your Brat, do you consider feeding me to be a primary duty of yours?”

 

I grinned, holding out the plate, “Of course.”

 

He grinned back as he swiped the small bite-sized quiche off the plate and bit it in half. 

 

Quickly bending down, I took the other half from his fingers. “And as my lover, I expect you to have the same consideration for me.” 

 

“Of course.”  His voice was still quiet but calm and firm.  There was no doubt, no wavering, no hesitation.  “Are you ready to go home?”

 

Looking at him, meeting and holding his gaze, I said, “It depends, are you ready to go home?”

 

He smiled and nodded, “Let’s go.”

 

We both made our good-byes to Mike and Kirk and headed toward my car. 

 

“Ummm…” John said a moment later as I started the car.  “Please don’t take this the wrong way or anything, Eric….”

 

I turned and looked at him, suddenly aware that he wasn’t looking at me.  Wanting to save him and, honestly, wanting to save myself from this awkward situation, I smiled and squeezed his hand.  “It’s OK, babe, like I told you, you need to be sure.  If you’re having doubts, that’s OK.  I’d rather you be sure you really want this.”

 

Laughing, he leaned over and kissed me.  “You really are one of the sweetest men I know, Eric.   But no worries, my only hesitation was that I was starving and really want to eat before we go back to the house.  I can’t wait to go back to the house and ... be … with you but …”  He shrugged, grinning.  “I’m starving too.”  Reaching down to my crotch, he grinned wider and brushed his fingers over the bulge. “I don’t even think I’m going to be getting any additional protein tonight.”

 

Between the flood of relief and the blood rapidly rushing to my cock, it took me a second before I laughed.  “So what are you in the mood for?”  I asked as I restarted the car with a grin.  “Oysters?”

 

He laughed, settling back, “I’d explode.”  Giving me a quick glance, he shook his head, “And here I was thinking you were sweet.  Instead you want to tempt me and torment me and drive me crazy with desire.”  Slumping back against the seat, John sighed again and fanned himself with his hand.  “Just diabolical.”

 

I laughed at his dramatic gesture of betrayal, “So you’re saying unless I feed you some sort of folk remedy aphrodisiac, you’re really not all that into me?”

 

Grinning broadly, John nodded, “Yeah, pretty much, Eric.  Sorry to break it to you like this.”

 

Pulling out of the drive, I gave my own dramatic sigh, “Well, in that case, we have to go get oysters and strawberries and dark chocolate and...whatever else is supposed to make you turned on.”  Glancing quickly at him, I blew him a kiss. “Because as soon as we get home, I plan on having my dastardly way with you …”  Lowering my voice a bit, I grinned, “Over and over and over.”

 

John laughed, “And over and over and over tonight, huh?”

 

“And the morning.”

 

“Oh good, I was worried you’d turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”  He grinned at me, reached out to take my hand as he turned more serious.  “I’m yours to use however you want, Eric.”

 

I squeezed his hand and held on tight. “How we both want.”

 

“Yes. Very much so.”

 

Steak N’ Shake doesn’t serve oysters and the only strawberries to be found were in several of their shakes, but the atmosphere, food and speed served us well.  We were finished with dinner and heading back to my house an hour after leaving the party, relaxed and happy. 

 

As we pulled into my garage and I shut off the car, John reached over and gripped my hand.  “What?” I asked.  The garage light barely penetrated the interior of the car and I couldn’t read his expression. 

 

“You know what we talked about before we left?”

 

“Yes,” I said with a nod.

 

“I told you then, in the kitchen, before we left,” he said in a low, slightly hesitating voice, “that I didn’t need time to think about your question to me.  About whether or not I wanted to be your Brat and want... everything you talked about.”

 

“Right.”  For some reason I wasn’t afraid of what John was trying to say.  If he needed more time, so be it.  He needed more time and that was a much better decision than to agree to something that turned disastrous for us both.  I had been down that path once before and seemed to have survived by the skin of my teeth and with still numerous scars.  I couldn’t do it again.

 

He squeezed my hand tight. “I took years thinking about it and I don’t want to waste any more time thinking instead of jumping in with both feet. I was right in the kitchen and I don’t need more time.  I’m ready to make this … need, I guess, a reality.”  He gave a quick laugh as the light timed out.  “And if you had listened to me and trusted me then when I said I didn’t need more time, we wouldn’t be sitting out here in the garage in the dark.”

 

I laughed, picking up his hand and kissing it gently.  “It’s not that I didn’t listen or trust you, babe…”

 

“I know, I know,” he said with a smile, “you just wanted to make sure and for me to be sure.”  He fell silent, not moving to get out of the car or let go of my hand.  A long moment later, he finally broke the silence and said, “So … when we get into the house are you going to do ….” 

 

When he paused again, I was tempted to break in and fill in the words for him but held back, let him find his own words and comfort in them.  Instead, I simply stroked the back of his hand with my thumb to let him know I was there and understood his struggle.

 

“Are you going to punish me like you said you would for being late?” he finally asked.  “I know it’s not the same exactly since we’ve been to the party and everything …”

 

Holding his hand tight as we jumped off the cliff together, I said in a soft, firm voice, “You disobeyed one of the household rules we established by being late, John.  True, we had to delay your punishment to deal with life and that’s going to happen from time to time.  But you still rightly earned this punishment and even though the lesson won’t be exactly the same, I think it’s still an important one to learn and be reminded of.”  I didn’t ask for his permission, I didn’t ask if he was OK with this decision or if he wanted to talk about it.  My role wasn’t to ask.  My role was to do and act and take charge.  We had talked enough and it was time for action.

 

“Yeah,” he said softly, still holding tight to my hand.

 

Giving his hand a final squeeze, I let go and silently got out of the car.  When he was next to me, I smiled gently and took his hand again, walking into the house together.

 

“Lower your slacks and bend over, John.” I said evenly as we made our way into the living room and I pointed him toward the couch.  “The arm of the couch will support you fine.  I want your hands on the seat, your butt raised and your legs spread.” Flipping on two of the living room lights, I left the overhead off.  There was plenty of light to see and the darkness kept the quiet, calm feeling to the situation.

 

His hand instantly went to his belt and then froze.  “Are you going to spank me too?” His voice was low and came out in a rough almost whisper.

 

I shook my head, “No, I told you earlier what I was going to do and why.  If I spank you, I wouldn’t get anything out of that. And simple pain isn’t the lesson I was interested in teaching you this evening. I’m going to fuck you.  This is a lesson in ownership, John.  The lesson and reminder about mutual belonging  is one that I find to be beneficial and exciting before a party.  Since you were late, the lesson has turned into one of just ownership and you will not be coming.”

 

He blanched and then blushed almost as deeply as the first time we talked in the kitchen. “Here?”

 

I nodded, staring at him.  “Our bed and bedroom is about mutual enjoyment, not punishment like this.  So, until we set up another room, the living room will have to do.” Moving closer, I pulled him into a hug, holding him tight and felt relieved when his arms came up to surround me too.  I knew it was a difficult  position to put him in.  Sex and domination and submission had been intertwined in our relationship since the second date when he willingly rolled over on to his stomach and assumed one of the most submissive poses.  It was a signal to me what he wanted and one that I gladly took advantage off.  He had reacted strongly after the last time he stood in the corner and I fucked him afterwards.  His own act of aggression the first time we had sex after Christmas where, even though he was the one being penetrated, he was still completely in control and had used me to prove he could.  For us, sex was about connecting and deepening the bonds that tied us together.  And one of those bonds was the thread of domination and submission.

He nodded after a moment and pulled away.  With slightly shaking fingers, he undid his belt and slacks, letting them both drop.  Stepping out of them, he picked them up and suddenly seemed unsure what to do. 

 

Quickly stepping in to help, I took them, brushing his hand with my fingers and carefully laid them over the back of the love seat.  “Bend over, John,” I said firmly.

 

With a sigh, he lowered himself over the arm and rested his head on his clenched hands. 

 

I walked over and bent over on top of him, rubbing my cock against his butt as I kissed his back.  “Perfect,” I said.  Not wanting to drag out the tension for him, I quickly undid my own slacks, pushing them aside to free myself and coated it with lube I had put out earlier.  With my other hand, I pushed down his briefs to expose him completely, ignoring the quick intake of breath.  “I’ve got you,” I said quickly, slipping a lubed finger between his checks and inside and began to slowly fuck him with it.

 

Despite himself, John arched back with the intrusion, spreading himself wider to allow more access.  “Eric,” he breathed out. 

 

I stilled my finger inside him. “This is fair, isn’t it, John?”  I wanted to make sure, dominating him, using sex as punishment was one thing, rape was something totally different.  “You want this.”

 

He gave a short laugh that turned into a moan as my finger brushed past his prostate.  “Want, yes, fair yes, like, hell no.”  Goosebumps broke out over his legs and exposed back as he shivered from the rush of conflicting emotions.

 

Removing my finger and giving it a quick wipe on a towel, I lined my cock up against his opening and began to tease at it.  Pushing in slightly and pulling out, pushing in more and pulling out several times, listening to John’s ragged breathing and knowing his was hard too.  His next breath was cut off with a low groan as I sank half way inside him.  Biting back a groan of my own as the tight sensation of him surrounding me hit all my nerves, I stilled myself for a moment, giving us both time to adjust before pulling back slightly and then pushing fully inside.  The sound of my balls hitting him resounded through the room accompanied by another groan from him. 

 

“Eric,” he gasped out, struggling to stand even as he arched his back, hands spasming on the couch cushion, desperate to reach his own cock and touch himself. 

 

“Stay still, John,” I said, forcing myself to keep a steady firm voice as I began to thrust in and out.  “This is for my pleasure, not yours. You would have gotten to come if you had been on time. Think back to the party tonight, walking around, talking with people.  Did you feel me watching you as you watched me?  I was thinking about doing this to you all evening.  Were you thinking about how it would feel too?  What it would feel like to sit at a table and still feel me fucking you over and over again for my pleasure?”  My pace was quicker, rougher than normal without the typical stops to kiss and tease him that normally happened when we made love.  Listening to his moans and cries, watching his hands, I was alert for any sounds of pain or distress.  I could tell he was struggling but also accepted the action, seemed to welcome it even as much as it was hard to stay even slightly still and not find relief himself. 

 

John was panting heavily as he rested his head on his hands.  “Eric,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry I was late.  I …” He groaned again as my pace quickened and bent his head, breathless.  Arching and twisting slightly, he opened himself up to my thrusts even as he cried out from them. 

 

Pushing all the way inside, I ground myself into him with fast, deep thrusts.  “Just feel me, John.  You don’t have to say anything, just accept it.”  Picking up the pace again, I came several minutes later, thrusting fully into him as I bent over his sweaty back.  Beneath me, I could feel him shaking and quivering.

 

“God…” he moaned again. “Eric.”

 

Reluctantly pulling free, I stood up, pulling up his boxers to once again cover him.  “What, babe?”  When he didn’t answer but slowly stood up, his eyes were dry and his face was flushed as he glanced at the floor and his own half-hard cock.  “Come here,” I said gently and was relieved when he slipped into my arms and held me tight.  Running my hands down his back, one stopped at the small of his back while the other went to his butt, squeezing and stroking gently.  “It’s OK.”

 

“I can barely breathe,” he said quietly.  “God, I know I’m breathing but I feel like I can’t catch my breath.  Standing in the corner was hard …”  His voice trailed off and I felt him take several ragged breaths .  “But that … all I could think of was how I looked and what you were doing to me and how I was letting you do it to me and how much I hated it and loved it and wanted it to stop and just ..”

 

“It’s OK,” I said softly, rocking slightly with him in my arms. I wanted to ask him if he was going to remember this the next time he was late but figured that could wait for later.  “Go take a shower, you need one.”

 

He laughed, hugging me again even as his blush deepened.  “A cold one, huh?”

 

Nodding, I glanced down at his cock.  “That would be best because that’s the only way it’s going to find relief tonight.”

 

In the end, unwilling to let him go but under the teasing guise of wanting to make sure he didn’t jerk off in the shower, we showered together.  I don’t think he believed my excuse but he went along with it.  The shower was small and it was cramped but much better than being apart.  As he leaned into me, naked and wet, I knew he felt the same way.  I had read that some Brats like time alone after a punishment, time to quietly and privately process what just happened and maybe John would be like that too.  But tonight, with this type of punishment, we were both drawn together.  I took the towel from him and carefully patted him dry, rubbing up his legs and chest and arms, pausing to kiss him several times before pulling back the sheets to my bed … our bed and sliding in after him.  It was late and neither one of us seemed inclined to break the peaceful quiet.

 

“You smell like melon,” I said as I curled up around him, both of us on our sides. 

 

He laughed as he pulled my arms around him more, snuggling in closer.  “Gee, Eric.  We go from ‘You’re so hot, I want you’ to ‘You smell like melon’ in an hour.  Is that the end of our mad passionate love already?  You have me exactly where you want, I’m officially yours and now you don’t have to work for it any more?”

 

I laughed with him, putting a hand on his bare hip and stroking it.  “Do you want another example of how passionate I am about you?”

 

“No, not right now.”  Then, in a softer voice, he moved against me slightly, “I can still feel you and if I think too much about it… what you did and what I did … and everything …”

 

Letting his voice trail off into the silence, I didn’t fill it in.  There wasn’t anything for me to say, I knew what he was thinking and my job was to simply hold him and make sure he felt safe and loved.

 

 

I woke five hours later, it was still dark out and my clock said it was just after 4 in the morning.  John had rolled slightly away from me and was now mostly on his stomach in the middle of the bed, one leg cocked up and the covers up to his ears.  The sight of him in my bed after so long was still novel enough to make me smile as I rolled over on my side and watched him sleep.  The self-doubt I had struggled with for months and had slowly beaten back began to creep back into my mind.  Last night had been great, John had agreed but what if it was another mistake?  What if this ended as badly as the last time?  I already felt more of a connection with John after six months than I had with Terry after two years.  I honestly wasn’t sure if that was a good sign of strength or a scary sign that if things went bad, it was going to hurt even worse.  Closing my eyes again, I tried to focus on the simple pleasure of John’s weight in the bed and the sound of him sleeping deeply.

 

I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes, the room was noticeably lighter and John was now laying on his side and staring at me.

 

“Hi.”

 

I smiled, “Hi yourself.”

 

“It’s too early to be awake I’m sure, Eric, it’s barely seven o’clock but I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. My mind is sort of racing.”

 

I laughed, shifting a bit and trying to decide if he wanted to talk face to face or if spooned up would be better.  “What are you thinking about?”

 

“Just stuff,” he said with a shrug.

 

“Come here,” I ordered softly, holding out my arms for him.  As he settled down, legs intertwined, his head resting on my shoulder, I asked. “What sort of stuff?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

I knew that was a lie, John rarely thought of just stuff and even if he couldn’t immediately put it into words, I was sure he was mulling over our new agreement.  Honestly, who wouldn’t be thinking about it?  Deciding to open the door and start the discussion myself, maybe giving voice to some of his little voices, I stroked his back.  “Well, I’ve been thinking about yesterday, last night and how much I’m going to love being your Top.  I’m scared too but I’m more excited.”

 

“What are you scared about? We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts.”

 

“Not a single second thought,” I said firmly.  “I’m scared only because I want to do right by you.  I don’t want to hurt you or disappoint you.  This will be hard, for both of us, but it’s so worth it and I hope that I’m strong enough to see you and us through to the other side.”

 

“Yeah,” he said softly.  “I’m scared too.”

 

“What are you scared of?”  My hand continued to move down his back in slow, gentle strokes, resting every now and then on his butt.  “Me warming this?”  Giving it a quick few pats, I kissed him.

 

He giggled, pressing in closer to him as he shifted a bit.  “Yeah, a bit.  But just everything.  Can we talk about it?  Will things change a lot? What do you want?  What’s going to happen?”  The questions poured out as the dam burst inside.  “I feel like I don’t even know what I don’t know now that I’m in a situation I’ve been dreaming and reading about for years.  Now it’s like ... just ... I don’t know what to do or what to say or anything.”

 

I knew we needed to discuss logistics and even though naked, in bed, at barely seven a.m. wasn’t exactly what I had planned, it’s what my Brat had decided needed to happen and I needed to go along.  “Well, first, I’d like to wake up to a blow job every morning and while I recover from that, breakfast in bed.  I’ll come up with a rotating schedule of what you can serve me…”  The sudden shift of weight cut off my words as John sprang up, rolling over and sitting up, stared down at me.  “What?” I asked innocently, struggling to keep a straight face.

 

He snorted, failing in his attempt to be serious.  “So this is going to be a threesome?  Because there’s no way you’re getting that from me.”

 

Shaking my head, I said sadly, “Barely 12 hours into the relationship and already you’re talking back and being disrespectful.”  I laughed as John snorted again, shaking his head.  “How about a blow job and breakfast in bed on holidays?”

 

Mollified, he settled back down with me and said, “Maybe your birthday, if you’re lucky.”

 

“Deal,” I said with a laugh and a kiss.

 

“You should have held out for the holidays,” he said with a laugh.  “There’s more of them.”

 

I sighed dramatically, “I’ll remember that next time, Brat.”  We were quiet for a minute before I began again, “But to be honest, I don’t want our relationship to change much and I don’t think it will. You’re smart, competent, obviously can take care of yourself.  I don’t think you want to be in a discipline relationship where you give up every aspect of your life.” 

 

“No,” he said softly with a shake of his head.  “But maybe some of it?”

 

“I think some of it is a very good way to do it,” I agreed.  “As I’ve been thinking about this for the past week, I’ve come up with a few rules and I’d like you to think about any you’d like to add, too.”

 

He nodded, “OK.  Like what?”

 

“Obviously, one will be that you call if you’re going to be late.  And by late, I mean, later than walking through the door at 5:30.  If you’re not sure, you call.  If you think you’ll be at the door at 5:31, you call.  If you leave the office late and think you might just make it ... what do you do?”

 

He laughed, “I call.  Yes, Eric, I get it.  Promise.”

 

“Good.”

 

“What will you do if I don’t?”

 

“That’s for me to decide at the time and not something you need to deal with,” I said simply.  I wasn’t going to allow this discussion to get bogged down in punishments and the details.  I would punish him how I saw fit at the moment and refused to be boxed into a corner.  “Number two, if you’re keeping count, you will ask permission to conduct work at home in the evenings or on the weekend.  If it’s important, I’ll let you do it but I don’t want it to be a routine habit.  This is our time, I don’t want work to constantly invade our time.”  I paused for a minute, rubbing a hand over his bare back, letting my words sink in.  “Number three, you will ask permission if you want to leave the house before 6:30 in the morning.  You’re about 20 minutes from your job here, so that will still get you to your desk by 7:00, which is early enough.  Again, if it’s something important, you ask and I’ll decide.”

 

“But you don’t know my work schedule,” John shot back.

 

“Then you’ll explain it to me when you ask for permission,” I said evenly. 

 

“But, Eric,” his voice was rising slightly and he rolled away from me, propping himself up on his elbows to look at me.

 

“John,” I said, interrupting him.  Carefully keeping my voice level, firm but kind with multiple meanings behind the single use of his name.  Even if he didn’t know exactly what he was responding to, he stopped and looked at me.  “Do you think I would do anything to hurt your career?”

 

Wordlessly, he shook his head.

 

“I’ll understand and if I don’t, I’ll ask you enough questions until I do.”  I saw his face twist in frustration.  I could tell arguing was on the tip of his tongue, the instinctual reaction to being told something he didn’t agree with and hadn’t anticipated.  “Trust me,” I added softly.

 

“I do,” he said in a voice that was just this side of a whine.  “It’s just …”

 

I could see him struggling and wished I could help but knew there was nothing I could do.  Acceptance that his life was now not solely his to control was part of the relationship he wanted and felt he needed.  Looking at him, still propped on his elbows facing me, I smiled.  “I think it goes without saying ...”

 

“And yet you’ll say it anyway …”  His smile broke his mood and the air felt lighter as he giggled.

 

“That I expect you to be respectful and courteous.  I’ll show you the same, of course.  If I tell you to do something, I expect it to be done without an argument, even if we hadn’t talked about it before.  I don’t really believe in formal written down rules, more things to work on and then common sense and common relationship goals we figure out together.  If you have questions, you should ask but  there’s a difference between debating and discussion.  If you’re debating or arguing something with me, I’ll shut it down and punish you.”  I saw him blush at the word punishment and reached out and grasped his hand.  Smiling, I gave him a wink, “That of course doesn’t pertain to normal couple debates.  I expect you to remain the independent, free thinking man I love.” 

 

“How will I know the difference?” 

 

I smiled again, “We’ll work on it together.  Don’t worry, this is a learning process.  I won’t expect perfection for say ...”  I pretended to mull it over, “a good two to three weeks.”

 

He smiled and rolled his eyes.  “You like to pretend you’re so tough, Eric.”

 

“I know but you still love me, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“For the next three months, you’re going to simply do as I say.  It won’t be easy but I’m also not open to any serious discussion about if things work, if they’re important or whatnot.  I’ll add rules as I see fit, punish you when and how I see fit and I expect obedience from you.”  My voice was again even but firm, my eyes closely watching him take this news in and blushing again at the words punish and obedience.   “These kind of relationships are always in some degree of flux but I think it’s for the best to take any, or at least, most of the control from you right now.  Your main job is to get comfortable being my Brat, living by rules with consequences, trusting me and being the submissive partner in our relationship.  My main job is to make that as easy and stress-free as possible.”

 

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

 

I squeezed his hand, “Smile, babe.  It’s OK, I promise.”  When he obediently flashed a quick smile, I smiled back.  “So, with that in mind, what would you like to add?  Tell me what rules you’d like.  What would you like to make sure I do or don’t do?”

 

“Ummm,” he started, looking down for a moment.  “I don’t know about creating more rules, that sort of seems like putting my head in the noose.”

 

I laughed, “OK.  Fair enough but if you decide that there is something you’d like to work on, we can add it any time.  How about me?  In all your research, what hit home for you the most that your fantasy Top did or didn’t do?”

 

“I don’t like being yelled at,” he said suddenly. “Or being called names or anything like that.”  His voice was serious as he looked me.  “It scares me and when I get scared, I fight back. I’m not lazy or stupid or a girl or anything like that. I don’t want to fight like that with you.”

 

Instantly mad at whoever had done that to him, I made sure my face read none of that but instead total agreement.  “Absolutely, John.  That’s disrespectful, hurtful and just plain ugly.  Not what our relationship will have in it at all.”

 

He smiled, the weight and seriousness lifting for a second.  “Not that I’m promising I won’t yell occasionally but it won’t be at you, really.  It might be just … normal, you know?”

 

“Normal is good,” I agreed. “We are just a normal, regular couple anyway.”

 

“And no threats either,” he said.  “If you ever threaten to leave me somewhere or kick me out of the car or stalk off alone some place as a way to punish me, like you’re going to leave me, I won’t give you the chance.  I’ll be gone and there won’t be any second chances.  I promise I won’t do that either.  Like you said, it’s disrespectful and hurtful.”

 

“I totally agree.  I might tell you I need to go for a walk or need to get away but you have my word that I’ll never leave you as punishment or some sort of emotional blackmail.”  I had dropped the Top Voice I had taken on and was speaking to him as Eric, his lover and hopefully life partner.  This was a vow that went beyond any secondary relationship we created together and spoke to a core value we shared.

 

He smiled, glancing down, suddenly embarrassed either at my words or his words or the emotion behind them.  Then, a moment later, he laughed, moving up, lifting himself up to me and kissing me quickly on the lips.  “I do.”

 

Wrapping my arms around him, I settled him on my lap, his bare butt resting on my legs and awakening my cock.  “Do what?”

 

Laughing again, he said, “Accept everything, take you as my Top and my partner.  It felt like we were like exchanging vows or something and you always seal your vows with an I Do and a kiss.”  Shifting a bit so he ground against me, he grinned, “You know, I don’t know if just a chaste kiss is good enough.”

 

There were a few more things I wanted to discuss with him but they were all minor and I knew John.  He had revealed a lot of himself this morning, accepted a lot from me and needed time to back off into safer territory.  If I pushed, he would shut down but if I went along, he would continue to open up and share.  Too much too soon scared him and we had plenty of time.  Despite my firm words, it would be several weeks before the discipline aspect really took off.  Reaching under the sheets and between his legs, I stroked his cock as I leaned in and began to kiss him.  “No, I don’t think it’s good enough.  Especially not when I’ve got you and this within such easy reach.”

 

John laughed, squirming against my touch even as he spread his legs to allow me better access.  “Easy is right, especially after last night.”

 

Taking my hand away briefly, I grabbed the bottle of lube and poured a small drop on my palm.  “Let me,” I said simply, returning my hand to his cock.  Doing two things at once, especially when all my senses were being assaulted wasn’t easy but John gave no complaints.  Covering his mouth with mine, tongues thrusting as my hand teased him, he almost squirmed and twisted out of my grasp several times before he somehow managed to be sitting directly on my lap facing me, his legs bent under him.  If I had dared stop without risk of bodily harm, I would have laughed as we seemed to reenact a probably very rough imitation of a Kama Sutra position. 

 

“I’m coming,” John gasped out, breaking away from my kiss, twisting and squirming.

 

“That’s the idea,” I said just before he came in my hand.  Before he had a chance to catch his breath, I spread my legs and managed to push him back onto the mattress.  Settling between his legs, I brought them up and spread them wider.  Smearing the slick combination of his cum and lube on my cock, I pushed slowly inside him.

 

“Eric,” he whimpered, arching into the intrusion.  “No, don’t. Please.”

 

“Don’t what, John?” I asked as I began the slow push completely inside him.

 

Grasping his legs, he pulled them back and further apart.  “I don’t know,” he said and then gave a quick laugh that turned into a satisfied groan as I filled him completely.  “God I’ll never get used to this,” he said in a tight whisper as he breathed out.  “You feel so good.”

 

Unable to stay still any longer and convinced that there was nothing unusual going on with John, I began the time-worn rhythm that men had acted out with other men for millennium but that never got old.  Bracing myself on John’s legs, I was unable to kiss him easily and instead simply concentrated on my own feelings and watching the play of emotions on his own face.  Despite having come just minutes before, his cock was again half-hard from the stimulation but he made no move to touch it.  My pace quickened and my thrusts became longer, each time almost coming completely out before sinking fully inside him again and again.  At last, I came hard, pushing deeper even as my cock jerked and shuddered down the length of passage inside of him.

 

“Come here,” he said, letting go of his legs and wrapping them around my waist as I settled on top of him, still partially inside.  A few minutes later as I caught my breath, John laughed, kissing me on the ear.  “That’s certainly not a sealing of the vows we could have done in a church.”

 

The next time I woke up, the room was much lighter, the clock read 9:13 and John was gone. Before I had a chance to panic, I heard the sound of the TV coming from the living room and smelled the scent of sausage.  Grabbing my robe, I slipped it on and padded into the kitchen.

 

“Oh good, you’re up,” he said, looking up from the counter he had been leaning against and reading the paper.  “I’m starving, let’s eat.”

 

“Good morning to you too,” I said with a smile, kissing him on my way to the fridge.

 

He laughed and rolled his eyes.  “Eric, we completed a serious discussion about our relationship and made love, I think we’re past Good Morning, this morning.”  Folding the paper, he slid me the paper and smiled.  “I made pancakes and I was just waiting for you to finally get up …”

 

“Hey," I protested with a smile, “you seem to forget I got up fine a couple of hours ago.”  Moving behind him, I rubbed myself against his butt. “Do you need a reminder how on fine it was?”

 

He laughed, twisting around and kissing me, “You’re right, it was very fine.  But I am starving and want pancakes.”

 

“Do you need help?” I asked, looking around at the place settings already put out.

 

“Juice, if you want more or just sit here and keep me company,” he said, starting the stove and effortlessly moving around

.

Watching him for a long moment, in awe of his organizational and cooking skills that made mine look like a third grader's, what he was wearing suddenly dawned on me.  “Hey, those aren’t my clothes.”

 

Not turning around from the griddle where he was ladling batter onto, he laughed.  “Nothing gets past you, honey.”

 

I laughed, loving the easy banter and tension free start to the morning.  It was the first morning I had woken where I wasn’t filled with a vague sense of loss and emptiness.  My world seemed whole again and even though I knew there would be rough patches and a lot of work, we were back on track and it was going to work.  “My eyes were only on you, not your clothes,” I countered. 

 

“I had a bag in my car,” he said softly.  “I put in there last week.”  Glancing quickly at me, he gave an embarrassed shrug.

 

Smiling, I raised an eyebrow causing him to laugh.  “Did you?  Why didn’t you take it out?”  Silently cursing myself for asking a stupid question, I shook my head, “Never mind.  I know why.”

 

John laughed, still concentrating on the griddle but the tension gone from his shoulders.  “Sort of hard to say 'No, I don’t want to stay over,' when I have a bag packed and I’m desperate to agree to stay over.  But, it wasn’t right.”  Flipping over several pancakes, he continued easily, “Last night was right, nothing else would have gotten us here.  Now, enough serious talk, breakfast is almost done and I’m going to need more than this if you want me to stay here.”

 

“I wouldn’t let you leave even if you want to,” I countered.  “You’re mine and you belong here.”

 

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to,” he said, flashing me a quick smile.

 

The pancakes were delicious and despite both of our insistences that there was much to take care of today, we ended up in bed again.  The stress of the separation, followed by weeks of tension had evaporated and we were both eager to make up for lost time.  Sex, the primal act of submission and dominance took on a new meaning for both of us and we were able to act our roles without holding back.  John settled onto his knees, head and arms casually resting on the mattress, back arched and legs spread wide for easy access.  He whimpered and squirmed as I fucked him, ordering him not to come even as I brought him to the edge several times.  As I came inside him, I finally allowed him to also come by touching himself and the dominant part of my soul felt pleased when he did as he was told, crying in relief and calling out my name.

 

Two hours later, we both reluctantly separated, him to his place to pack---something he insisted he could do alone---and me to stay behind to make room for him, symbolically in my life and practically in my small closet and chest of drawers.  I had wanted to come with him but had felt that not only was he right, he could pack alone, but it was also something he needed to do alone.  He was going to bring back mostly clothing and some personal items.  We would tackle the bulk of the apartment’s furniture next week or so.  He had said there was no rush, making it perfectly clear that he wasn’t asking, because he would be keeping the apartment for awhile.  He had signed a new lease and only had to give 30 days notice before breaking it.  I hadn’t pushed, understanding the safety net aspect of the place and his reluctance to part with it.  Plus, there was the practical aspect of having his own telephone number and address.  The public aspect of the relationship wasn’t even on the radar.

 

Tugging his jacket tighter around him, I eyed him seriously.  “You’ll call if you need anything, right?  If it’s too much or you need help or just don’t want to do it alone any more?”

 

He grinned and nodded, “Yes.  Promise.”

 

“I’ll be waiting,” I said kissing him and reluctantly opening the house door.

 

“You better be, I don’t want to lug all this stuff here just to have to lug it back!”  He winked, “And I expected to be properly rewarded tonight for doing all the hard labor here and going out into the cold.”

 

I laughed, “Pick up place pizza?”  We both liked a particular pizza place near the house with the downside that they didn’t deliver.  Considering that we normally ordered pizza when neither one of us felt like getting dressed or going back out, it created a problem.

 

“That’ll do to start,” he said with grin before turning and heading toward his car in the driveway.

 

Resolving to clean out the garage as soon as possible so he could pull his car in too, I waited until he was safely inside and had pulled away before going back into the house and shutting the door.  The silence filled the space but instead of feeling cold and empty, now simply felt quiet and peaceful. 

 

When the house was built in the 1940s, it had come with three bedrooms and one full bath.  Sometime before I bought it a previous owner had combined two of the bedrooms and from the space, added an en suite small master bathroom.  The remaining bedroom was my office, a desk for paying bills and holding the laptop against one wall and my drawing table and supplies taking up most of the opposite wall.  The nitty gritty detail of where I would discipline John had been in the back of my mind for a week and I still didn’t have a good solution.  I knew it would have to be settled soon and it wasn’t a problem I wanted to be dithering about when the time came.  Standing in the doorway to my office, I surveyed the furniture and my options.  An hour later and several trips up the ladder to move storage boxes and seldom used suitcases into the attic, the room was more organized and more accommodating.  It wasn’t perfect but it would do for the time being.  My filing cabinets had been cleaned out and condensed, leaving John two drawers for his own papers and were stashed on the floor of the almost empty closet.  My desk and printer stand had also been cleaned and rearranged so my laptop could be easily moved off the desk for John to write lines or when he wanted to work at a desk instead of his normal operation of  balancing his laptop on his knees in front of the television.  Moving everything several feet closer to the door still left an adequate walk way but also created a generous empty corner to stand in.  I hid the fact with a small newly dusted silk tree from a different corner of the room.  A spare chair now sat next to my drawing table and could easily be pulled into the center of the room.  But, as much as I didn’t want to, I felt that most of the spanking would occur either in the living room or in our bedroom.  The position of him stretched out over my lap, fully supported, was much easier than the classic chair position and allowed for longer discussions.  Satisfied that it would do, I moved on into the bedroom

 

Making space there was much easier.  I wasn’t really into clothes and sliding things together and consolidating drawers only took an hour for both the bedroom and the bathroom.  Even as I was doing it though, my mind drifted toward house hunting for a bigger place and one that would belong to both of us together, not him moving into mine. It would be a nice summer weekend activity, driving around and looking at open houses and new developments.  In the back of the closet, I pushed aside a couple of suits to check for hangers and froze, staring at a pile of boxes.  The day after John had left, I had gathered up all the Christmas gifts, reboxed them and shoved them into the back of my closet, not wanting to see them or even think about them.  On top was the beautiful wooden paddle.  Reaching down, I picked it up and was again struck by the craftsmanship.  It was slightly dusty but the deep golden wood was still gorgeous with perfect proportions.  Unlike the last time I had held it in my hand, it now felt right.  The handle was solid and fit comfortably.  I knew just by the weight and the feel of it that the blade would give a nice stinging swat without the bruising thud that I tried to avoid. It was the perfect size for a either a short attention grabbing series of swats or a longer over the knee paddling and discussion. 

 

I carried it into the kitchen and mindlessly found the dusting oil and a cloth to clean it.  It once again glowed as richly as it had in December when John gave me the biggest gift of his life.  And I threw it back at him.  I was suddenly struck by an idea but instantly pushed it aside.  Shaking my head, I carried the paddle back to the bedroom and tucked it inside my nightstand drawer and tried to concentrate on the rest of my tasks.  John would be back soon – home soon, I corrected myself mentally and I wanted to make sure everything was ready.

 

With some difficulty, I moved my nightstand and bed over, creating more space between the other side and the wall.  A trip to the garage netted me a not too small or rickety table left over from somewhere that would have to serve as John’s nightstand until we found something better.  I couldn’t remember his own bedroom and what sort of nightstand he used.  I didn’t have an extra light and added it to the list of things we could pick up or scrounge from his apartment.  I was just finishing up when I heard the faint sound of a car horn summoning me to the driveway.

 

“Hey!” John called as I stepped outside and eyed his car. 

 

“Do you need some help?” I asked innocently even as I was pulling on my sneakers to head out. 

 

He rolled his eyes, “Only if you want me to be done tonight and not get sick from being out in the cold and damp for hours.” 

 

Looking up at the gray clouds and the steady mist falling, I started down the steps.  “No, can’t have that.  Even though,” I paused, grinning at him, “I do remember last time you were sick, you had a very good suggestion on thermometer placement.”  My teasing was rewarded with a deep blush from John and being handed a large stack of clothes, still on hangers.

“Which you turned down, if I remember correctly,” he countered with an embarrassed laugh, scooping up his own large bundle.  “I hope you made room in your closet.”

 

As I made my way carefully inside the house, I studied the piles and shook my head.  “I think I would have had to make an addition to the house to fit all these, John.”

 

“I brought three weeks worth,” he explained.  “The rest are still at the apartment.  This way I can easily cycle through clothes for awhile and there’s no rush to go back over.”  He paused, standing in the bedroom and eyed the closet.  “Do you think I brought too much?”

 

“No, it’s fine, I’m sure,” I said, lying quickly.  His voice seemed worried and doubt and being uncomfortable was the last thing I wanted tonight.  “We may need to shift some stuff to the closet in the office, I made room in there too but I’ll show you later.”  He had never seemed like a clothes horse but seeing the stacks coming in made me reevaluate that assessment.

 

It only took one more trip, me lugging a large box of books and several pictures and him rolling a large suitcase to unpack his car.  The box went into the office and together we quickly unpacked the suitcase of more clothes and toiletries. He had also packed a couple of bags of food from his kitchen and had put them away in my fridge.

 

Collapsing backwards on the bed with a groan, John laughed.  “God, I’m sore.  I didn’t think I had that much stuff.”  He twisted slightly, looking at me zipping up his suitcase to be stored up in the attic with mine, “I think we should have a yard sale or something when the weather’s better.  I have a ton of stuff at the apartment that I don’t need and you certainly don’t have room for here.  It’s all old stuff from the parents or my brothers’ place that I stole when they got married.”

 

“May would be perfect,” I said, sitting down on the bed next to him and rubbing his thigh through his jeans, “All those new college grads moving into apartments and whatnot.  I’ll look at what I can get rid of too and create more space for what you do want to bring.”

 

“We should go back over next weekend, or at least I should,” he said, closing his eyes.  “I want to give it a good cleaning.  I took out the trash but didn’t waste time doing much.”  He shifted against the bed and sighed.

 

Patting his leg, I said, “Hey, why don’t you go take a shower, clean up a bit and then I’ll rub your back for you.  See if I can help work out those kinks.”

 

John slowly cracked open an eye. “After all this work, you want me to work out my kinks?” Smiling at my expression, he raised a hand, “Help me up and I’ll let you have your dastardly ways with me.”

Hauling him up to a sitting position and then standing, I kissed him quickly, allowing my hands to run down his back and knead his butt.  “Go shower, babe.”

 

“Yes, honey,” he shot back with a grin.  “Join me?”

 

I was tempted to say yes but shook my head, “No but I’ll be here when you get back.”  It was already almost four and the rain made the skies outside prematurely gray.  Closing the shades, I lit multiple candles around the room and pulled back the bed covers.  

 

John came back a few minutes later, walking gingerly with a towel wrapped around his waist.  Eying the room, he smiled, “Nice little set up you’ve got going on.  Give many massages here or is this your first time too?”

 

“It’s been a few years,” I admitted, “but I’m sure I haven’t lost my touch.” Settling him on the bed face down, I slowly began to rub the muscles in his back and across his sides, stopping just at the small of his back.

 

“No lower?”

 

Patting the bare butt, I chuckled, “Patience.”

 

“Bossy,” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes and relaxing into my touch.

 

I really didn’t have a plan in mind and it was a good thing.  Five minutes later, I heard John’s breathing change, lowering and becoming steadier as he fell asleep.  I smiled and didn’t take it personally, wondering how much sleep he had gotten over the last months.  Judging by his comments and the faint circles under his eyes, I wouldn’t say much.  Silently slipping off my jeans to get more comfortable, I settled in next to him and pulled the covers up.  I wasn’t particularly tired but I wanted to be close and think about the upcoming weeks, the paddle tucked into my nightstand and the adjustments our lives were going to have to accommodate as we worked things out.

 

Saturday evening and Sunday drifted by lazily.  We ordered pizza and, since John wasn’t dressed and protested having to do so again, I went out and got it for us.  Eating in the living room and sitting close together, we watched TV and relaxed.   There was no talk of discipline or roles or that this was John’s first night sleeping over as an official resident instead of just a guest.  I don’t think either one of us had the energy and simply wanted to be together.  We made slow, gentle love afterwards filled with much kissing and petting and soft strokes.  Instead of coursing, churning hot passion, it was quiet and tender that came in waves and low sighs, not moans and cries.

 

The Sunday morning paper was spread out on the table with a basket of biscuits wrapped in a towel between us, not cold cereal thanks to the food John had brought from his place.   

 

“So I was reading a story a few weeks ago,” John started from behind the Issues section he was reading.

 

Not looking up from my own section, I made a random noise to acknowledge that he was speaking.  I had learned over the months that, now that he was comfortable with me, John often talked just for the sake of talking and didn’t need my full attention.  He mainly wanted to know that I knew he was talking and at least half listening.

 

“And it was about a more S&M relationship than ours but the Dom, I guess, not a Top, had a code word that he’d say and the sub was supposed to be ready at any time to be fucked.  Like have lube and condoms and whatnot on him.  The Dom would just say this word and the sub would just bend over, spread his legs and get fucked.”I looked up, my attention now firmly on him but he was hiding behind his paper.  Not wanting to push, I asked casually, “What did you think about that?”

 

He was quiet for a minute before answering, “I don’t think I’d like that.  I like the way we do it much better.  I mean, Friday night was one thing and I guess it was OK, it certainly got my attention and I’ll remember it next time but not all the time.  It would lose meaning I think after awhile.”

 

“I would think so too,” I agreed in the same easy, casual voice.  “If I’m going to do that to you, and there might be times that I do, then I want it to be memorable, a lesson or punishment.  Like on Friday, something you’ll remember for a time.”  I wasn’t sure why John had brought this up, if there was something I was supposed to get from it or if the story had just been on his mind and he was glad to have someone he could now tell it too.

 

He was quiet again for another few minutes before saying, “But you know, there was one thing that I really liked in the story.”

 

I folded down the paper and looked at him. “What?”

 

He glanced up and met my eyes and gave me a small smile. “Remember you asked me what I’d like?”  When I nodded, he continued, “Well, the Dom in the story would sometimes roll over at night and …”  He paused for a second, searching for the words even as a faint blush rose on his cheeks.  “And sort of pushed his way inside and started fucking the sub before he was awake.  Just took him, basically with like no warning or asking permission or anything.”

 

“Did the Brat get off too?”

 

“I think it was a sub,” John corrected, thinking about it.  “And yeah, he usually did or at least, the Dom didn’t tell him he couldn’t.”  He quickly ducked back into the paper, adding quickly, “I just think that would be really neat.  Wake up like that to feel yourself being touched and filled, like you wouldn’t know if it’s real or a dream and to know that you belong to someone who knows he doesn’t need your permission because you’ve already given consent to everything.”

 

I nodded, “Yeah.”  Then, reaching over, I pushed at his newspaper, causing him to look up at me with a small smile.  I grinned at him, “Thank you for telling me.”  I laughed, letting go of the paper as he grinned back.  His meaning and message were now clear, in a roundabout, John way.  He wanted to be possessed, he enjoyed the idea of being taken, as it was, without a lot of conversation and discussion but there had to be at least the option of him coming too.  Being used sexually and denied wasn’t something he enjoyed and would consider it a punishment.  It was a punishment he was willing to accept, like any punishment but shouldn’t be seen as a consistent right I had.

 

John had asserted his new household authority and insisted we make a menu of dinners and a grocery list so we’d know what to buy.  I had always considered that a tedious, unnecessary chore but he insisted.  I served as secretary, writing down what he told me on a legal pad while he rattled off dishes we – meaning him – could make and that would serve as left overs for lunches.  He was in the habit of taking his lunch several times a week, both to save money and time.  Our list done, in an amazingly short 25 minutes, we went to the grocery store.

 

Since he had stayed over most weekends, we had been grocery shopping many times but this time felt different.  John wasn’t just a casual tag-a-long this time but instead someone who was going to be dealing full time with the food choices, toilet paper choices and household supplies.  A corny as it sounds, it was actually fun walking up and down the aisles together, knowing we were shopping for the food we’d put into our pantry and then, on a random Tuesday evening, make together.

 

“Do you need any shampoo or deodorant or anything,” I asked as we passed the Personal Hygiene section.

 

He laughed, bumping the cart down toward an aisle, “No but I do think we need something.”

 

“What?”  Walking ahead, I saw him pull two packages of something off the rack half way down. 

 

“This,” he said, tossing two packages of lube into the cart.  “We’re almost out and at the rate we’re going through it, I should have bought stock.”

 

I laughed, protesting, “It’s not my fault.”

 

John gave me a dubious look. “And whose fault is it?  Surely not mine.  I’m an innocent in this whole sordid mess.”

 

“Oh yeah,” I teased, “an innocent.  I’ll remember that next time you jump me.”

 

“As if!”

 

I grinned like an idiot. I knew we were rapidly turning into one of those annoyingly in love couples but it was fun.  The early headiness would be replaced by the normal routines of work and laundry and house cleaning soon enough and right now, I was just too happy to care.

 

Monday morning’s alarm clicked on and I was dimly aware of John shutting it off.  I must have drifted back off to sleep because the next thing I was aware of was him leaning down and kissing me bye.  I glanced at the clock and saw it that it was precisely 6:30.  My own alarm went off at 7:30 and I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen.  My day was split between the warmth of the house, where I worked and talked to various people about various projects, and the cold garage, where I cleaned.  Items were split between Trash and Goodwill piles and I made two trips to the Goodwill semi at the mall with my car loaded down.

 

“Divorce or marriage?” the older man asked me during my second trip.

 

“What?” I asked, confused.

 

He nodded toward my car, “There’re  usually only two reasons a guy your age brings in so much stuff.  Either you got divorced and are having to move out since she got the place or she’s moving in and you’re having to make room.”

 

“Oh, right.”  I grinned at him, “Marriage.”  It wasn’t the case of course but it seemed easier than standing in the cold and getting into a Gay Marriage debate with a complete stranger.  Plus, I really wanted to get rid of this stuff and envisioned him throwing it all back at me in retaliation for daring to insult the sanctity of heterosexual marriage, complete with its fifty percent divorce rate.

 

At 4:30, I looked around the garage in satisfaction.  There were still plenty of boxes to go through and throw out but John could also now safely pull his car in next to mine.  On one of my trips out, I had swung by a hardware store and picked up another remote control.  I had just finished programming it when I saw lights turn into the driveway.  Stepping outside, I waved.   “Stay,” I said with a smile.

 

John rolled down his window, the car still running.  “Are we going out again?  Do I have time to change at least?”

 

I grinned, “I have a present for you.”

 

He grinned back, “Is it bigger than a bread box?”

 

Holding out the remote, I said, “I’ve been busy today.”

 

He took it, confused before finally pressing the button.  Down the driveway, the garage door opened to reveal the empty side.  “Eric!  For me?”

 

Leaning down, I kissed him through the open window, “No silly, for the other guy who lives here.  I didn’t want to worry about you getting wet all the time or having to be out in the cold scraping ice and a cold car.”

 

Still grinning, he laughed, “You know, I’ve been living in an apartment for a few years.  I’m used to it.”

 

“Yes, I know but you didn’t belong to me then.”

 

Glancing up at me for a second, his grin widened and he gave a quick nod.

 

I gave the car roof a light tap and stepped back so he could roll forward and carefully pull inside.  The garage was connected to the kitchen door via a covered breeze way and I made my way inside and unlocked the door for him.

 

“Thank you,” he said coming inside and pulling me into a tight hug.  “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

 

“You’re worth it,” I said evenly, kissing him quickly.  “Very worth it.”

 

He shook his head as he started to pull away, “No I’m not. Really.”

 

Holding him tight, I squeezed, “Yes, you are.”  I wanted to tell him it was no trouble, it had only taken me a couple of hours but didn’t want to add ammunition to his worthless insistence.  “Really.”

He shook his head again but remained silent even as he folded himself tighter into my arms.  “You don’t understand, Eric.”  His voice was quiet but I could hear him clearly.  “You shouldn’t have gone out of your way.”

 

I knew that this wasn’t an act.  Terry might have said something similar to me as a way to prompt me to praise him more but I had seen this before with John and knew he was serious.  Moving my hands down a bit so that one rested on his butt, I held him tight, kissing the side of his neck.  I whispered, “I do understand, John.  You’re more than worth it.  You belong to me, don’t you?”

 

He nodded silently.

 

“Do you think I’d bother with someone who wasn’t special and worth every second of my time?”  When he didn’t answer, I kissed him again, “The answer is no.  Trust me, babe.”  We stayed like that for a long minute before he finally nodded and pulled away.

 

“I’m going to go take a shower and change, OK?  It was a long day at work.”

 

“OK, there’s no rush.”  I followed him out of the kitchen, still holding his hand and into the bedroom.

 

“Did you hear the news,” he asked a minute later as he started to get undressed.  “They’re saying there’s a chance of snow Thursday night.”

 

Settling back on the bed, we made easy small talk, the incident in the kitchen done.

 

I don’t know if it was the crushing disappointment of no snow, just a cold 33-degree rain pouring outside Friday morning or if it was simply time for John to start testing the relationship but he woke up in a foul mood.

 

The alarm radio played three songs, a traffic report and a round of caller call ins discussing some reality show I’d never heard of before I kissed him on the neck and patted his leg, “Time to get up, John.”  We were spooned up together and while I wasn’t looking forward to him leaving, I also didn’t want him to be late.  His customary nightshirt was pushed up to his waist, exposing his butt and I was worried if we lay there much longer, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.  As it was, my mind was idly wondering if the combination of lube we had used the night before and my semen inside him would be enough for a quickie now or if I’d have to find the bottle.  Before I could translate the thought into action, he jerked away from me and stomped out of bed.

 

“Yes, Eric, I know.  I can hear the alarm too, I’m not deaf, just lazy!  Good god, I was just listening to the radio but god forbid I do that for 30 seconds without you jumping all …”  The rest of his tirade was drowned out by the slamming bathroom door and the sound of water a moment later.

 

Biting back a sharp retort, I got out of bed and quickly slipped on my pj bottoms and a sweatshirt.  The house was a bit chilly and I turned on the space heater I kept in the bedrooms for these kinds of mornings.  I didn’t mind the house being cool but not when I was wet and certainly not with John.  I knew, logically, that he was a very healthy adult man, no health problems, no weakened immune system, not even any allergies that I knew of.  But at the same time, I wanted to coddle him a little, make sure he was always warm and dry and just generally protected from …whatever…as much as possible.

 

“God it’s cold in here,” he snapped, coming out of the bathroom a few minutes later.  “Why don’t we turn on the heat?”  He opened a dresser drawer with a violent yank and pulled out a sweater.  “I bet the office is going to be like an ice box, they’re so cheap, I swear they turn the heat off at night.  We’ll get an email around nine saying it’s working again but in the meantime everyone in my section is bitching to me as if I have some control over it.”

 

“Our heat is on at least,” I said evenly.  I was sitting with my back against the headboard half watching the morning news but mostly watching him.  “It’s an old house and sometimes it just takes a while for the heat to get going.  I turned on the space heater, it’ll be like an oven in here in ten minutes.”

 

He snorted, “Too bad I’ll be gone in five.”  Jerking his slacks up off the hanger, he stepped into them quickly. 

 

“Speaking of old houses, John,” I started and then paused when I saw he wasn’t paying any attention.  “John,” I repeated, lowering the tone of my voice even as I raised the volume.  It caught his attention like I knew it would. 

 

“What?  I’m late, Eric and it’s your fault. It’s pouring down rain and you know what that’ll do to traffic or at least that’ll be the excuse for half the staff coming in late.”

 

Now was not the time, I knew, to ask how exactly him being late was my fault or even reprimand him for being short and rude.  We didn’t have time for any sort of discussion or to even work on getting him in the right frame of mind for the discussion.  Instead, I said, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t slam the doors.  The house is old and I’d hate for something to get broken or thrown off kilter with the force.  Plus, it’s just rude.”

 

He looked at me blankly for a minute before giving a quick nod, “Sure, sorry.”  Swiping his wallet and watch from the dresser, he stalked out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen.

 

With a sigh, I got up and followed him in, like a Good Top was supposed to do.  In reality, I would have been fine sitting in bed watching the news and ignoring his mood.  “Why don’t I make you some toast,” I said evenly as he was rapidly tossing containers for his lunch onto the counter.

 

Shoving them all into a grocery bag, he shook his head, “No, it’s OK.  I’m not hungry right now.  I’m sure someone will bring in doughnuts or maybe I’ll stop at the bagel place.”  He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, “Bye, hon.  Have a good day.”

 

And with that, he was gone out the door, not to return until at least five.  Getting a mug of water going for my tea in the microwave, I contemplated making a dash out to get the paper but just as quickly dismissed it.  The local news would suffice this morning.  The rain let up sometime in the morning but by that time, I knew the paper on the driveway would be a soggy mess and I was already into my work groove and no longer cared.  I half expected John to call some time during the morning, apologize for being in a crabby mood and just to say Hi but he didn’t.  I wasn’t mad about it, not surprised even.  I had the feeling his hand had probably strayed at least a couple of times toward the phone to call me and then, remembering the morning, quickly pulled it back, not wanting to hear how furious he imagined I was.

 

Walking into the house that evening just after five and actually a few minutes early, John was in a much better mood.  “Hi,” he said, coming up behind me and leaning down to give me a quick kiss before sliding around and plopping down on the sofa with me.  “How was your day?”

 

Folding the magazine I was reading, I shifted slightly and looked at him.  “It was fine after about 6:30.  How was yours?”

 

He made a face and shrugged, “It was OK.  Nothing special.  What happened at 6:30?”

 

I could tell from his trying-to-be-innocent- but-screaming-guilt expression that he knew exactly what I was talking about.  “That’s what time some demon that was in the house this morning left for work.”

 

“Oh … yeah,” he said, glancing down and picking at an imaginary loose thread of his sweater.  “Sorry about that, I don’t know what was going on.  I was just in a bad mood or something.”  Leaning over, he quickly kissed me, “Sorry.”  Then, reaching for the TV remote, he said, “Want to take a bet on who can remember the Law & Order episode the quickest?”

 

Gently plucking the remote from his hand, I shook my head.  “We’re not done discussing this morning, John.  ‘Sorry’ twelve hours later really doesn’t cut it.  We’re going to talk about this, figure out what happened and work through it.”

 

Sighing, he flopped back on the couch and folded his arms and glanced in my direction. “OK.”

 

I stood up and held out my hand. “Come on.”  When he reluctantly stood, I grasped his hand. “First, you’re going to take a shower and change into something more comfortable.  I want you to take the time to think back to this morning, what happened and what was going through your mind.”

 

“But I already said I was sorry, Eric.  Why can’t you accept that?”

 

The mix of frustration, annoyance and whine in his voice almost made me smile at his predictability.  “I accept it but that doesn’t address the issue.  And,” I said, lowering my voice and drawing him in closer, “you’re not in a relationship where a quick, half-hearted sorry and change of subject solves the problem, are you?”

 

“Are you going to spank me?”  His voice was low, almost a whisper as if he were afraid to remind me what one of my options was.

 

I leaned up and gently stroked his cheek for a moment before kissing the hand I still held.  “All you need to think about now is what happened this morning and what was going through your mind.  Nothing else.”

 

“But ...”

 

“No,” I said, my voice firm as I led him to the bedroom.  “One of your main responsibilities right now in this relationship is to trust me.  Tonight, you need to do that.”

 

He started to undress slowly while I settled on the edge of the bed watching him.  “Eric…”

 

Interrupting him, I shook my head, “John, think long and hard before you say anything right now.  I’ve told you what I want you to do.  I’ve reminded you what’s the biggest responsibility you have in this relationship right now.  Do you have something to say that isn’t already addressed in one of those two things?”  I could see his face twist in frustration and he opened and closed his mouth twice as he started and then stopped himself.

 

Finally, shaking his head, he quickly stripped and disappeared into the bathroom.

 

I pulled out a pair of sweatpants and long sleeve t-shirt for him to change into after his shower and then waited.  The shower ran so long, I was shocked to see steam come out when he opened the door twenty minutes later.  I had thought the hot water tank would have been emptied and spewing nothing but icy water after this much time.  I’m not sure if he expected me to say something about the long shower and dragging his feet but I didn’t.  I had told him to think and I was in no rush.  The appropriate length of time wasn’t something to get into a power struggle over right then and just wasn’t important.  We had all evening.

 

Clutching the towel around his waist as if it offered much needed protection, John eyed me sitting calmly in the chair in the corner of the bedroom warily.   “I’m sorry about this morning, Eric.  I don’t know why I was in such a bad mood.  I think it was probably the rain and it was cold and I didn’t want to get up and then I was running late and stressed and took it out on you.” 

 

The words came out in a quick, slightly rehearsed sounding rush but it was a great start, better than I had hoped for.  John had actually done what I had asked and at this stage, it was key.  “It’s never good to wake up and hear it pouring down rain,” I agreed with a smile.  “Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go into the living room and talk about it a bit more.”  Talking about it a bit more, I could tell, wasn’t high on his list of evening activities but I honestly didn’t care.  I don’t think I was being mean or heartless when I mentally dismissed his opinion.  He willingly gave up a good deal of the right to dictate last week.

 

He gave a hesitant nod before quickly slipping on a pair of briefs and then clothes I had pulled out already for him.  “What are you going to do, Eric?”

 

I smiled, “What did I just say we were going to do?”

 

A flash of frustration crossed his face again and his mouth took on a tight line as he didn’t answer.

 

Refusing to get into a power struggle with him, I let it go.  He could pout over my refusal to answer his questions but that would just end up with him facing a much worse punishment than I was planning.  If he insisted on a power struggle, so be it.  I would win, without a doubt and if I had to physically prove that point to him tonight, I would.  He seemed not to be quite to that point yet though as he quietly followed me out of the bedroom to the living room again.  Sitting on the love seat, I motioned him down with me and then, once he was down, snuggled him up close to me.  His legs were intertwined with mine and we could easily look at each other but also allow some space apart if it was needed.  The room was quiet and the light from the kitchen and free standing lamps gave the room a warm feeling.

 

“So we’re going to talk,” he said quietly.  “I really don’t know what else to say.”

 

“Well, let’s start with what you said in the bedroom.”  My voice was calm but firm, loving but at the same time didn’t invite excuses or whining.  “You woke up with the alarm and heard it raining.”

 

John sighed and then shook his head.  “I woke up before the alarm actually.  I’m not sure how early, maybe ten or fifteen minutes but it was quiet and I could hear it pouring down rain and I just felt my heart sink.”

 

“Had you been hoping for snow?”  I knew when we had gone to bed, the weather announcers had put the chances at about fifty-fifty but had said not to count on it.  Had  it snowed in Atlanta, especially on a Friday, the city would have come to a halt and everyone would have enjoyed a three-day weekend.

 

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.  “I guess so but ...”

 

When he didn’t answer, I shifted, kissing him on the side of the head and stroking his leg but not saying anything, letting him fill in the silence with the words I knew were screaming inside his head.

 

“It’s just bad to hope for something like that,” he said several long minutes later.  “Lazy, irresponsible and just wrong.”  His voice rose a bit, “I mean, they would have had to pay me if they closed down, the work still would have needed to be done and really, this city is such a freak when it comes to snow.  Ten flakes and that’s all people need to scream Snow! and use it as an excuse to goof off.”

 

“Drag them out into the street, regardless of the weather,” I said dryly, watching his expression as he smiled and gave a little laugh.

 

“Not that bad, Eric,” he said with another shake of his head.  “I just woke up and heard it raining and felt this just … horrible disappointment but then, I knew I shouldn’t feel disappointed.”

 

Pulling him slightly closer, I gently stroked his leg as I let the silence fill the room.  “But why not?” I finally asked in a puzzled voice.

 

“Why not what?” Twisting, he looked at me with a genuinely puzzled expression. 

 

“Why shouldn’t you feel disappointed?  Who told you that you couldn’t feel disappointed?”  I paused for a moment as if I was thinking, trying hard to remember, “I don’t remember telling you that.”

 

John made a face, “You didn’t have to.  I shouldn’t have felt disappointed because I shouldn’t have been looking forward to slacking off in the first place.”  His tone made it clear that this philosophy should have been understood by even an idiot child. 

 

“But you were,” I said evenly.

 

He sighed, leaning his head back, “Yeah.  I was really disappointed and just didn’t want to get up at all.”  Laughing, he added, “Maybe I was hoping if I laid there long enough, it would suddenly turn to snow or something. But then I knew that was stupid and even more lazy and just wrong in general but it was cold and the bed was warm and it felt so good.”  He shifted a bit, blush rising on his checks, “And I could feel you and you were sort of hard and all I could think of was how great it would be to have sex.  I almost rolled over to see if I could get you interested but then I knew it was getting late and the alarm was going to go off any second and good god, if laying around in bed just because of a bit of weather was bad, I can’t even imagine how bad it would be to lay around just to fuck my boyfriend.  And then I started thinking about how bad that would be and how lazy I was for still being in bed when I was fully awake and needed to get up and get to work because of the weather but it felt so good to be  laying there and I just …”  His voice trailed off as he ran out of steam for the convoluted story.

 

I held him tight as the words poured out of him and then, when they stopped, kissed him again.  In a quiet voice I asked, “You just what, babe?”  The question hung in the air so long I thought he was out of words. 

 

“I just wanted to stay home with you, stay home in bed with you and I just couldn’t make myself get up but I couldn’t let myself relax either and enjoy what time we had because I knew I shouldn’t have wanted such a thing in the first place. I didn’t know what to do so I just laid there and when you told me to get up, I just lost it on you and I’m sorry.  I know it was rude.  I was just so frustrated and torn and I lashed out.  I was really embarrassed all day so I didn’t call you because I didn’t know how to explain what happened.  I wanted to be with you and was really disappointed it didn’t happen but I was ashamed of all that and just didn’t know how to tell you.  I’m sorry.”  Twisting slightly, he looked at me to gauge my reaction.

 

Silently kissing him, I stroked his head for a minute and gave him a small smile.  I let the words sink in for a minute, I noticed that John was more relaxed in my arms, more settled now that he had confessed and I hadn’t exploded in anger.  “So you were frustrated because you didn’t think you should have felt what you were feeling, right?  You’re not allowed to feel disappointment that something you were looking forward to didn’t happen or even wanting to stay home today and be with me or just because the weather was bad.”

 

John laughed and nodded, “That about sums it up.”

 

I stroked his leg as I thought, “But I’m confused who told you all that?  I know I didn’t make it one of our rules.  I’d never forbid you to feel disappointed or say you weren’t allowed to want something.  It might not work out but you’re certainly free to feel all those emotions.  It’s normal, it’s healthy.  I feel the same thing.”  When he didn’t answer, I knew I needed to push a bit more to get John and this conversation where I wanted it to go.  Having heard some of John’s comments over the months about how he was raised and the expectations put on him and his brothers, I had a good idea where these old rules and ideas were coming from.  The trick was to get them replaced with our rules.  “Those aren’t our rules, are they John?  We didn’t talk about those kind of restrictions on you at all, did we?”

 

“No.”

 

His voice was quiet and he had stopped looking at me, instead his eyes were closed as he rested his head against the back of the love seat.  Stilling my hand, I shifted a bit and could look at him more easily.  “So why were you following them?  Why let rules that have nothing to do with us, with our relationship, twist you so much and drive you to frustration.  They stopped you from rolling over and letting me make love to you.  They stopped you from talking to me today and stopped you from sharing your feelings with me.”  I let my words sink in for a bit before continuing.  My voice was still low but firm and I could tell that at least some of what I was saying was sinking in.  “The only rules that you are to follow are our rules.  They’re made to help our relationship, help you and help me.  To me, they’re the only ones that matter.  Not these other ones you’ve heard but don’t sound like they’re that helpful to us.”

 

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

 

I wasn’t sure but his voice sounded thick and through his closed eyes, his lashes seemed moist as if he was trying hard not to cry.  Holding him tight, I rocked slightly with him and wondered if he would break down and cry.  When I heard him take a deep breath and settle closer to me, I kissed him again and continued, “I think this is a good lesson on what happens when you forget our rules and start following someone else’s.”

 

John nodded his head, “Yeah.  I really wanted to, Eric I just … I just couldn’t stop all this other stuff from getting in the way.”

 

“Well, let’s work on reminding you then and see if we can’t figure out a way to stop all the other stuff from mucking up the works.”  I patted his leg and kissed him.

 

“Are you going to spank me?”  His voice had a slight tremble in it as he suddenly went stiff against me.

 

“No,” I said easily, “I don’t think that’s the best way to teach this lesson this time.  Instead, I think sitting down in the office where it’s quiet and writing out the sentence ‘The only rules and behaviors that matter in my relationship are the ones that Eric and I agree on.’ will be helpful.  It might turn into a good mantra you can say to yourself when other people’s rules start trying to get involved.”

 

John nodded, “Yeah.”

 

Kissing him again and snuggling him up close against me, I asked, “Do you want to go write or do you want to sit here a bit longer together?”

 

“Tell me you love me, please,” he said in a quiet voice. “That you’re not disappointed in me and that you weren’t disgusted by what I told you.”

 

The request shocked me into silence and for a second, my mind froze.  A second later, much longer I’m sure to John, I said, “I love you so much, when you’re quiet like this or when you’re cracking jokes at my expense and even when you’re complaining and blaming me for you running late in the morning.”  Against my chest, John giggled and kissed my shirt.  “I’m thrilled that we were able to talk and that you trusted me enough to tell me what was going on this morning.  It didn’t disgust me at all, I was so proud you took the chance you did and told me what you were thinking.  If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known but now, it’s out on the table and we’re tackling it together.  I love you, John and having you here this past week has brought so much back into my life that I let slip away.”

 

“Me too,” he said before reluctantly sitting up and facing me.  “I guess I have to go write lines now.”

 

I nodded and stood up, holding out a hand and helping him up.  Pulling him close, I kissed him again, this time deeply and possessively with my tongue delving inside his mouth as my hands kneaded and stroked his butt.  Smiling slightly as he responded with small excited sounds, I briefly contemplated settling down on the floor with him and taking full possession of his body.  The idea of him spread out beneath me and then sitting on a hard chair writing, still feeling me inside of him was very appealing and to him as well, I was sure.  We had a bottle of lube stashed in a small basket underneath the coffee table left over from the previous week.  With a sigh, I decided there would be time enough later in the relationship to add that mix to the punishments, and pulled away.  “If I keep that up, I won’t be able to resist you.”

 

He laughed, “I think that’s a very good thing, Eric.”

 

“Yes but you have lines to write and it’s already almost 6:30.”  Leading him back into the office, I pointed to the desk.  “There are spiral notebooks in the bottom drawer and pens in the top.  Pull out two and a pen and I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”

 

John sat at the desk and pulled out the supplies, settling himself comfortably and then glancing up at me.

 

I had perched on the edge of the desk and nodded when he was ready.  “Remember how I said that we were going to go straight through for 90 days, 100% my rules with no real discussion or changing from you.”

He made a small face but said, “Yeah.”

 

“I still think it’s important for you to have a voice and a say, obviously.  So, in one of the notebooks and you can start tonight since this is the first time you’ve been punished formally, you can write down what you think and I won’t read it until these first 90 days are up.”  I smiled, “So you can say I’m a heartless, unfair bastard if you want.”

 

John laughed, “As long as you remember you said I could say that in May.”

 

I laughed and nodded, “I promise, no judgment over what you write.  I think it’s important to capture what you’re feeling now, what you think is fair and isn’t fair, working and not working and then compare it to what you feel in 90 days.  It’ll help us see where we need to be going.”

 

“So I only write in here,” he asked, tapping the red notebook, “when I’ve been punished?”

 

“No, I think it can be whenever.  Maybe even when you do something that in hindsight you see as something I should have gotten onto you for or that you wished I had or something I do punish you for that you think wasn’t a big deal.  The idea is just to help us set a final game plan, that’s all.” 

 

He nodded, “OK.”  Glancing at the blue notebook, he said, “And I guess this one is to write in?”

 

Resisting the urge to kiss him, I instead smiled, “You’re so smart.  If I have you write lines or essays …”  I laughed at John’s expression, “Trust me, you’ll be surprised at how revealing it can be, I think it’ll be a good idea to have them all together.  We or you by yourself, can go back and reread them and see what was important and maybe remind you of some things.”

 

“So how many do I have to write tonight?”

 

His tone was exactly what I was expecting, that of a task to be mindlessly done and gotten through and that was exactly what I didn’t want.  I shook my head, “That’s not how I work this, John.  Pick up your pen and write across the top so there’s no confusion - The only rules and behaviors that matter in my relationship are the ones that Eric and I agree on.”  I watched as he carefully wrote out the line and I mentally counted out how long it took him.  “OK, keep writing that straight down the page, then on the next page and the next and just keep going.”  I ignored his annoyed look. “I don’t want you thinking how many more you have left or to be keeping count at all.  You’re supposed to think about what you’re writing, think about what it means, why I came up with it and how this morning could have been different if you had remembered that rule.”

 

“But how will I know when I’m done, Eric?”  His voice was annoyed and if I was any judge, I would have guessed it came from frustration at the lack of control.  “How many do you think it’ll be before it’s enough?”

 

I leaned down and kissed him, “John, trust me.  I’ll know when it’s enough and I’ll tell you.  All you have to worry about and think about is what this line says and what it means.  I’ve got control of everything else.”  I reached out and stroked his head, smiling slightly as he leaned into my touch and briefly closed his eyes.  “Trust me.”

 

Silently nodding, he gave me the briefest of smiles before taking a deep breath and picking up his pen to write the first sentence.

 

For the next thirty minutes, I quietly roamed around the house a bit as I kept an eye on John and an eye on the clock.  I sat in the office and worked on a random drawing of my dream house and then roamed into the living room where I sat and read for five minutes before drifting into the kitchen to think about dinner before going back into the office.  John’s posture had changed quickly from straight and angry to a more relaxed seating.  That was one of the signs I was looking for and I was happy to see it so quickly.  The other, not unsurprisingly, took longer.  I think people would be surprised by how their mind set affects the sound of their hand writing.  When I left John, his writing sounded hard, quick and angry.  It was short and choppy and sounded very distinctive.  After twenty minutes, he had settled into an easy flow;  like his posture, it was now relaxed and more open.  Richard had pointed it out to me and I had noticed it in my own writing when I stopped to think about it.  Getting lost in the words, in their meaning, created a soft sound and the pen simply flowed out the words over and over again. 

 

I didn’t want to shock him out of that focus so I quietly walked up after 30 minutes and rested my hand on his back, rubbing it gently.  “That’s perfect, John.”

 

With a soft sigh, he glanced up and smiled but didn’t say anything. 

 

“Come here, babe,” I said, stepping back to allow him room to get up.  He folded himself into my arms as I hugged him tight, leaning up to kiss him and stroke his face.  “What was the sentence you were writing?”

 

He laughed and hugged me closer. “The only rules and behaviors that matter in my relationship are the ones that Eric and I agree on.”  The words came out firmly with no anger, frustration or sarcasm.  Just simple and honest acceptance. 

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

He laughed again, kissing me, “It means that if I let myself get all twisted up in knots worrying about  stupid stuff from stupid people, then I won’t be able to focus on our rules that we’ve decided on.  If we don’t make it a rule in our relationship, I shouldn’t worry about it.  And,” he said with a grin, “I should let you judge me because you’re a lot nicer to me than I am to myself.”

 

“But you don’t make yourself write lines,” I said with a smile.

 

John shook his head, “No but you don’t tell me I’m stupid and lazy and disgusting either.”

 

I kissed him and said quickly, “Never and you’re not.”  I felt him nod as if in total agreement but also knew that despite his brave words tonight, this was just a skirmish in this war.

 

 

 

The pizza arrived twenty minutes after John was done with his lines and we ate in the living room, sitting side by side on the couch watching TV.  It was just relaxing and safe feeling to slip back into our comfortable routine of Jeopardy and the teasing and mocking that went along with it. 

 

“It’s chilly, Eric.  I think we need to have the heater looked at or something.”

 

I made a face, “You’re such a southerner.  The house is set at the prescribed energy-saving temperature of 68.”  The words were said in jest that I knew he got judging by the face he made at me as I stood up.  “Fine, fine, let me get you a blanket before your face freezes like that.”

 

He laughed, “I thought you said it wasn’t cold in here.”

 

“I don’t want to risk it,” I said, throwing in a fake shudder for effect.

 

John curled up next to me, content to lean against me and warm under the flannel throw I had gotten as a Christmas present from my aunt several years before.  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

 

Now, I admit, I really wasn’t paying attention to John.  I probably should have been, I probably should have known he would want attention and petting and reassurance that he was forgiven.  It was the first time he had been in trouble, been punished by me and the full impact of our new relationship might be hitting home.  But, I honestly wasn’t.  If I had spanked him, sure, but he just wrote lines and so I was flipping through the TV channels trying to decide what we were going to watch.  So, instead of instantly reassuring him, I said oh so eloquently, “Huh?  Sorry about what?  Did you spill something?” Sitting up, I instantly looked at the coffee table expecting to see John’s beer flowing down the side.  Luckily, John isn’t as fragile as I think and instead of being upset he just laughed.

 

Pulling me back down, he moved so he was sitting more on my lap and kissed me.  “No honey, I didn’t spill anything.”  Kissing me again, he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes, “I said I was sorry, about being an ass this morning and then not calling you later to apologize and then for pretending not to know you were mad when I came home.  I’m sorry you had to make me write lines so I wouldn’t forget something as important as our relationship.”

 

I kissed him back, deeply drinking in and savoring the taste of him or, probably more accurately, the taste of him, pepperoni and a bit of beer.  My tongue pushed its way inside as his mouth willingly opened and welcomed the intrusion.  “You’ve said you’re sorry already,” I whispered.  “It’s over and done as far as I’m concerned.”

 

Shifting against me, he kissed me back, teasingly pushing his own tongue inside my mouth to claim me as his. “Promise you’re not mad?”

 

“Swear.”

 

“Prove it.”  Pushing his hand between us, he groped my cock through my jeans.  “Prove it, Eric.  Prove to me that having to punish me like a kid did nothing to lessen this.  Prove to me that you don’t see me any different even after you sat me at a desk and made me write lines, something I haven’t done since sixth grade choir for talking.”

 

His voice was light, teasing but months of practice had tuned me into something underneath the surface.  There was a hint of desperation, of fear and of a real need for me to literally prove to him that whatever his internal voices were saying to him wasn’t true.  “Prove it, huh?” I said, giving him my best wolfish grin.  His hand was still ghosting over my cock as I reached down and pressed it firmly against myself.  “Is that what you were looking for?”

 

John grinned and nodded. 

 

As he wiggled his eyebrows at me, I would have sworn he was daring me, taunting me to see what I’d do.  Leaning over, I kissed him hard, pushing him down against the cushions and almost on top of him as my tongue once again invaded his mouth.  At some point, I’m not exactly sure how, I managed to ease both of us down onto the living room floor and the desire I had earlier in the evening to spread John wide and fuck him took over.  We both fumbled with slacks and sweat, pushing until they were both off, laying in a crumpled pile on the floor, half under the love seat.

 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, eyes closed tight. 

 

I didn’t bother to say anything.  Like he had said one time, words were cheap and easy, I had to prove it to him.  With a long-practiced mix of gentle and rough, I spread his legs wide as I settled between them.  “You’re mine, Brat,” I said firmly, running a finger over his hard cock and the ultra sensitive skin underneath.  “This belongs to me and this and this. I am so proud that you’re mine.  Proud when you admit that you need correction and we work together to make our relationship the best it can be. And that admission is only something a strong, confident adult can do, never a kid, and certainly never anyone who is weak.”  Kissing him deeply, I felt him twisting and turning, trying to get away from my fingers as they teased him and spread him open before pushing their way possessively inside. “Why am I doing this,” I asked.

 

John groaned as two of my fingers lightly fucked him and tried to twist away and close his legs. 

 

Holding them apart with my knees, I slid my fingers all the way inside of him and brushed past his prostate.  “Tell me, John.”

 

“I don’t know,” he cried out, eyes still tight and a sheen of sweat coating his forehead.  “I don’t know.”

 

Stilling my fingers inside him, I kissed him again, gently this time, nibbling at his neck and ears before moving on to his mouth.  “Yes you do, babe.  Tell me.”

 

Reaching up, he gripped my head and held it close as he opened his eyes and smiled at me for a long moment.  Kissing my shoulder, he sighed as my fingers began to fuck him again.  “You love me and you think that’s enough to make up for having to deal with me and all the hard work.” He laughed, smiled again and relaxed; legs and hands losing their tension as his body accepted mine and his inner voices were silenced. Or, at least drowned out.

 

I kissed him deeply, withdrawing my fingers slowly from his body and causing him to groan and squirm.  “Told you that you knew,” I said, pulling back and sitting up between his legs.  Wiping my fingers on the towel that had been wrapped around the lube bottle in the basket, I quickly coated my cock.  “Ready?”

 

John nodded and smiled, the blush rising on his checks.  “God, Eric, I’ve been ready for ten minutes, you’re the one who keeps talking.”

 

Laughing, I raised his legs off the floor and spread them wider, glancing at his cock.  I nodded at it, “Yeah, I’d say so.”  I cut off whatever his quick retort was going to be by nipping at the inside of his leg before settling between them and pushing in my cock.  Keeping some of my weight off of him with my arms, I watched his face twist and contort, teeth bared and neck straining as he pushed up as I slid all the way inside of him in three long motions.

 

Groaning, he closed his eyes again and blindly reached out, fingers digging into my arm and hip to hold me in place.  “Don’t move,” he ordered.  “God.”

 

Pulling back slightly before pushing back in fully, I kissed him, “You don’t give the orders around here, John.  I can do what I want, when I want, to your body.  You’re mine.”

 

He nodded, “Yes.”

 

There had been enough talking, enough petting and enough kissing.  Spurred on faster by the rush of emotions from John’s submission and my own dominance, I easily slipped into a careful rhythm of fucking him.  It was a bit of a struggle to not get lost in my own feelings, the sounds of pleasure from John, the feel of his hands on me and the tight sensation of his internal muscles gripping and rubbing against my cock as it slid in and out, in and out, the tingle from nerves denied the tightness as they came completely free from his body before sinking back into the dark warmth.  Still, I was aware of what I was doing, almost as if a small part of myself had detached and was watching me fuck John, watching him twist and squirm on the floor with his legs spread wide and wrapped around my waist, watching to make sure that the pain he felt was welcomed and not a sign of problems.  I was dimly aware of him coming with a cry and a shudder a minute before I sank deeply inside and came, claiming him as mine, body and soul.

 

Laying in bed two hours later, John’s damp skin still smelling faintly of melon from the soap he liked, I couldn’t resist stroking his bare butt.  He was drifting, mostly asleep but still awake enough to occasionally mutter something in response to my whispered comments. We had made love again in the bed, this time slow and gentle with long strokes interrupted by longer sessions of kissing and petting and now were both enjoying the drifting afterglow that comes just before sleep.  The lights were off but the curtains were open, letting in the pale light from the street lights and moon.  The sky was crystal clear with the rain having moved out and it was going to be a bitter night.  Stroking his cool skin, my mind idly wondered what it would feel like to spank him.  Or what it would be like to take the beautiful paddle he gave me and use it on his bare butt.  How it would feel to lay spooned up to him afterwards, holding him close while he maybe sniffled out his remaining tears or slept deeply, exhausted from the emotional scene and to feel the warmth radiating off his skin.  I knew he wasn’t ready for a spanking yet, our relationship wasn’t ready for me to spank him but I also knew that it would be soon.  The idea of telling him to bend over, pulling down his underwear while I settled him across my lap worried me slightly. I would have to be firm and confident, no matter how I felt inside.  There would be no turning back from that.  Not that I wanted to turn back now or would even know how to if I did but a spanking instantly made the relationship, the cause and effect, discipline and punishment crystal clear like nothing else could.  It was deeply personal; emotions lay exposed and raw by deliberately causing and willingly receiving pain.  I think I was almost looking forward to getting it behind us, no pun intended.  But, at the same time, I wanted John to be ready for such a step and I wanted it to be real.  His mood this morning didn’t warrant a spanking, at least not right now.  Maybe if he pulled that attitude in a couple of months, I would spank him for it but not today.  Things were still too new and we were still finding many of the emotional soft spots with just normal living.

 

I honestly didn’t believe in a set list of rules with set consequences, life was too fluid for that.  I didn’t have an imaginary line in my mind that, once he crossed, would earn him a spanking.  Instead I had decided to trust my instincts.  In the many weeks we had been apart, I had struggled to once again find and embrace the Top in me.  Once I did, I resolved not to think of the past and not to be caught up in second guessing myself.  I could now see my relationship with Terry with new eyes and a new understanding.  My main fault had been to play his game, feed into the drama that he wanted.  Now that I had identified it, it was amazingly easy to avoid.  My instincts with John had, for the most part, been right on and I simply had to keep trusting them and know that they would tell me when the time was right.  I knew that it would be me who would have to make that final leap with him, jump off the edge with him held tightly and securely to cause the least amount of trauma as possible.  It was my responsibility and I was ready for it.

 

John shifted and sighed, settling deeper into the pillows.  “Your hand feels good,” he mumbled, pulling me away from my thoughts.

 

“Your butt feels good,” I said, kissing him.  Concentrating on the feel of him pressed against me and the sound of his breathing, I pulled my thoughts away from the paddle still tucked into my nightstand.

 

My dreams that night were of conquest, a raging battle against something dark that I couldn’t see.  I awoke with a start, my cock hard and begging for release.  Glancing at the clock, I saw it was just past five a.m. and John was fast asleep.  Sometime during the night, he had rolled mostly on his stomach, back to me still but now clutching a pillow to his chest.  I’d like to say that at that moment, I actually remembered the conversation where John said this was a fantasy of his but honestly, I didn’t.  Instead, with blood pumping and the lingering need for conquest still on my mind, I simply rolled closer to him and slowly pushed my cock inside him.  My leaking cock and the lube left from earlier in the evening provided enough moisture to allow me to sink fully inside, filling him completely as I settled on top.  As I slid out, beginning to fuck him, I felt him start and jerk awake.  “Shhhh,” I said, not stopping the small thrusts, “I’ve got you.  You’re mine and this won’t take long.”

 

“Eric,” he groaned, squirming and then gasping as I reached out, capturing his free hand and pinning it to the bed, holding him tight under me.

 

His small bit of squirming, spreading his legs and arching a little as I thrust in him over and over again fueled my desire for him.  “Mine,” I repeated, leaning down and kissing and lightly biting the back of his neck.  His legs were spread wide, accepting me and most of my weight covering him and holding him down.  I was right when I told him it wouldn’t take long and within a matter of minutes, I felt my balls tighten as I thrust deeply inside of him, biting down softly on his shoulder as my cock jerked and came inside him.  Rolling us onto our sides, me still imbedded inside, I kissed him again and fell into a deep and contented sleep.

 

When I woke up with a start several hours later, the room was bright with sun and John was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows staring at me.  “Hi,” I said with a smile. My actions earlier that morning came flooding back to me and I wondered if I should apologize.  John had certainly been a willing participant but at the same time, I had been rather selfish and maybe even though I had been in the mood to dominate and conquer, he had been startled to find himself thrust into a starring role, no pun intended.

 

“Hi.”

 

Studying his face for a moment, I mentally took a deep breath and settled myself.  If John was upset, he was going to have to tell me and I wasn’t going to apologize until he did and admitted that he had been willing too.  “How are you this morning?”

 

A slow grin slowly spread across his face, “Ready for round three.”

 

My concerns instantly vanished and I matched his grin.  “I think you need to count again, I think we’re up to round four.”

 

He laughed, leaning down and kissing me before collapsing on top and resting his head on my shoulder.  “Round four for you but it’s only round three for me.”

 

Reaching around him, I rest my hand on his butt and stroked it.  “That’s right,” I agreed as if having to make an effort to call forth the events of the last few hours.  “Now I remember…”

 

He laughed, “As if …”

 

**************************************************************************************

 

I knew the time was right three weeks later.  It started off as a normal Thursday, a session of kissing and petting before John reluctantly pulled away and then we were caught up in the morning rush of departing from each other for 11 hours.  The beautiful clear skies and warm – for the end of February - that we had been enjoying all week gave way to more typical cold and gray skies with showers. 

 

The week before had been Valentine’s Day and we had kept it low key.  Right now, still caught up  in the euphoria of the relationship, every day was like Valentine’s Day and we didn’t need any excuses.  John had gotten me a funny – not sappy in the least – card and a large bag of various size and color post-it notes, a household and office staple I went through at an alarming rate and a bag of dark chocolate and caramel squares.  For my part, I had given him a slightly sappier card and a new leather key ring to replace the car dealership freebie he had been using.  It was brown embossed leather and the shape, if you turned your head and squinted just right, could have been mistaken for a paddle.  I had also taken his keys and relabeled them so that the key to our front door no longer read “Eric’s” and instead said “Home”.  I also graciously shared my candy with him.

 

I had hoped to put the issue off until Friday but real life as always got in the way of the best laid plans. 

 

We were in the kitchen after dinner when his mood and mouth finally pushed me over the edge.  It wasn’t a big deal really, it wasn’t a major issue but there was something in his tone, something in his eyes that told me that the time was right.  He was going to keep escalating this until he got what he wanted, what he needed.  It was my responsibility to stop it from having to go that far.   The last straw was, somewhat fitting, cereal. 

 

“John,  please jot down cereal on the list on the fridge,” I said, putting back the jar of seasoning he had used for the chicken.

 

“I know, Eric,” he shot back, the annoyance clear in his voice.  “You don’t have to nag me to do what I already know.”

 

My ears picked up at his tone and I turned, looking at him.  “I’m not nagging, John.  I’m asking you to do something.  We forgot to get more last week and now we’re out – we finished it this morning.”

 

“Yes!” He shot back, “I was here, remember?  I threw away the damn box!  I am terribly sorry I forgot to get cereal last week, it won’t happen again.”  Slamming the fork he had been rinsing into the sink, he swore under his breath and stalked out of the kitchen.

 

Shutting the pantry door, I took a deep breath as I went after him, catching him in the living room as he knew and expected me to.   I swatted him across the butt twice, causing him to yelp and jerk.

 

“Do I need to say anything, John?” I asked calmly.  “Or are we both on the same page about how inappropriate and ridiculous that was?”  He had the good grace to shake his head and gave a derisive snort as I walked us both back down the hall and into the office.  Turning him toward the corner, I said “Cool down a bit and then we’ll talk.  I’m not putting up with that kind of attitude or behavior from you.”

 

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “What are you going to do?”

 

Looking at him for a long moment, I motioned for him to turn back around. “Turn back around, John.  You’re suppose to be concentrating on cooling down, not worrying about me.”  I watched him for another minute before I walked into our bedroom and retrieved the paddle from my nightstand, carrying it back into the office with me.  I had no intention of drawing this out and causing him more stress, that’s not what this was about.

 

“Eric,” he said softly.

 

“What?”

 

He paused for a second and then changed his mind, “Nothing.”

 

“Come here,” I said, putting the paddle down on the desk and holding out my hand to him.  I saw his eyes dart to the paddle as he walked the few steps to me and stopped.  Reaching out, I took his hand. “Let’s go,” I said simply.  “We’re going to go into the living room and I’m going to sit on the couch and put you over my lap and paddle you for how rude you were in the kitchen.  You know better, you know I expect better and that’s not how we treat each other at all.”

 

John sucked in a quick breath of air through his nose but kept his mouth firmly clamped as he nodded, swallowing. 

 

Squeezing his hand, I had to tug slightly to get him moving, his cold hand in one of mine, the hard paddle in the other as we made the quick walk back into the living room.   The lights were on and I made no move to turn them off or lower them.  This was the harsh reality of a discipline relationship and not some soft, cozy courtship ritual about to be played out. 

 

“Eric …”

 

I squeezed his hand but didn’t answer or ask him what he wanted.  I knew what he wanted, what he needed and that was for me to be a Top.  Be the Top he had dreamed about and fantasized about and accepted that he needed.  He had been strong the last few months while he fought for his dream---and for us---and now I had to be the strong one for both of us and take the final step off the edge.  Tossing the paddle on the couch, I nodded, “Go ahead and remove your pants and underwear, John.”

 

He swallowed again and slowly undid the top button, pausing to take another deep breath as his eyes met mine. 

 

Giving him a small, tight smile, I nodded.  “Good.”

 

Once his pants were off, left in a crumbled heap on the floor, he paused again.  “My underwear too?”

 

“Yes,” I said simply, “underwear too.  I want to concentrate on you and you to concentrate on me when you’re over my lap.”  I didn’t want to have to struggle to pull them down this time.  I was sure there would be times later when I would want to be the one to lower them, expose him myself after I already turned him over but not this time.  John was already struggling with his emotions, fear, anxiety, apprehension and probably, deep inside, relief. 

Taking another deep breath, he briefly closed his eyes and quickly pushed his briefs down and stepped out of them, kicking them out of the way before meeting my eyes for the quickest of moments.  He dropped them a second later as his hands came up and covered himself even though the t-shirt he was wearing did the same thing. 

 

I had to bite back a smile at the moment, knowing that a thin layer of cotton offered nothing in the way of emotional protection like a cupped hand did.  Reaching out, I took his hand and in one confident motion sat down, bringing him down and over with me.  I settled back on the couch, pulling him until he was bent fully over, chest and arms resting on the couch cushion next to me.

 

John shifted, struggling to control his breathing that was coming out in quick jerks. 

 

I knew that each second probably felt like a minute to him and I couldn’t prolong this any longer.  Raising my hand, I swatted him hard across the butt three times, scattering them across both checks and causing him to jump inside the tight grip I had on him.  “We’re always respectful to each other,” I said firmly as I spanked him in a steady rhythm.  “That means no swearing, no throwing things down in frustration and no stalking off like a child.”

 

“I was just frustrated,” John shot back, struggling slightly to push himself up.

 

Landing two hard swats in the same spot, I said, “I’m not looking for explanations or denials right now, John and certainly not justifications of that behavior.  You knew it was out of line then and you know it now and this is exactly what you had coming for that behavior.”

 

John struggled again for another moment before giving a loud cry as I concentrated my swats on the sensitive under curve of his butt.  “Eric! Stop! Please, I know you’re right.”

 

I paused for just a moment making sure the signals I was getting from him were correct and he in fact was not honest in his wish to stop, before saying in a calm but firm voice, “You are not in charge of the relationship, John.  You do not dictate to me and I’ll stop when I want to and when I feel that I’ve made a lasting impression.” I swatted him again several times, feeling him shake as he struggled to control himself. “Is that understood?”

 

“Yes,” he gritted out, butt clenching and unclenching as he twisted slightly and struggled. 

 

Carefully pacing my swats, I kept a bigger eye on him as he struggled for control.  I didn’t believe that a Brat had to cry necessarily before a punishment should be stopped but for John, my feeling was that he needed to cry.  I needed to bring him to that point and then, like the spanking, safely carry him over.  As his butt rapidly turned red and hot, I paused for a minute, listening to his strangled gulps and quick intakes of air. 

 

“Please stop, Eric,” he said softly.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“I know,” I said firmly, reaching next to me and picking up the paddle he had given me two months earlier.  I tapped his butt with it and he jumped and gave a small, half cut off sob, face buried into the couch cushions.  “We have set rules for our relationship and how we want to live.  Every time you step over that line, every time you break one of our rules, I won’t hesitate to put you back in this position and punish you.  You have my unconditional love and support, no matter what or how many times we do this.”  Tapping his butt again with the paddle, I brought it down with a solid swat that made him cry out.  Four more strokes pushed him over the edge and had him sobbing softly, crying out at each stroke until I had delivered an even ten.

 

In the end, he cried for almost thirty minutes after I stopped spanking him, long after he was curled up, laying next to me in bed while I held him and stroked his hair and whispered how much I loved him, how good he was and how wonderful he had been.  While I knew the spanking and paddling had hurt, I hadn’t put anything close to my whole arm into it and the redness would be completely gone by morning.  The tears, I felt, were more of a release of emotions that had been building for weeks or months. 

 

 

“You know what this means,” John said softly.

It was still early morning, too early to get up, and I was once again stroking him as he lay heavy against my chest.  “What?” I asked, kissing his head.

“You spanked me.”

Moving my hand down, I pulled up his nightshirt, exposing his bare butt under the covers.  He was too low though and I couldn’t reach.  Instead, I was content to rest my hand on his back.  “I did,” I agreed softly.

He shifted, moving up so he was leaning on his elbows and looking down on me.  He gave me a soft kiss and his smile widened slightly.  “You have to keep me now, no backsies. You’re stuck with me. Right?” 

The words were light but I could sense the weight behind them.  Leaning up, I kissed him and pulled him down against me, “I wouldn’t dream of it. But ..”  I smiled, kissing him again and rolling with him so he was trapped underneath me.  Pushing my hand between us, I stroked his cock as I spread his legs with my own.  “I know you think that talk is cheap so let me show you how much you belong to me and how happy I am about that.”

“Please,” he said, spreading his legs wider, “show me.  I need…”

Kissing him, I nodded, “I know.”  He cried again, softly, as I slid gently into him, making love to him, proving to him that I still saw him as an adult and not a child despite the actions of the previous evening.  As I slid in and out of him, his legs spread wide around my waist, I held him tight, kissing him deeply as we reconnected as adults and partners.

John shifted, gripping my upper arm hard, “Are you sure?  I mean … are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”  And, it was true.   

 

The End