Boys at the Seaside 1

Boys at the Seaside

Chapter I

“Well, at least the place is nice,” Rick gave his verdict after examining his surroundings.

Rick had exuded disapproval since the moment Johnny had announced his intention to accept Milton’s invitation to spend a week with them at a seaside resort on the French Riviera. Milton had mentioned that as far as he could understand it was intended for those in power exchange relationships and John had found it to be a good idea to escape someplace where he and Rick could abandon themselves to the full extent of their chosen life.

Rick, of course, had met the idea with resistance, and Johnny, in order to nip any fight in the bud, had declared that any argument from Rick would be swiftly dealt with in the most unpleasant way. After that, Rick had resorted to silent resistance, expressing his displeasure with gloomy looks and sulky glances, but had mostly cooperated.  

John just grunted at Rick’s remark, unwilling to start any conversation with a tired and obviously annoyed Rick until they were in the privacy of their room. The resort might be intended for like-minded people, but it didn’t mean he felt ready to bring Rick down in front of an audience consisting of strangers.   

They walked to the reception desk, and while Johnny was dealing with their reservation, Rick’s eyes kept wondering around, observing the surrounding area.

“Do you know if Milton will be here with his entire harem?” Rick asked, feigning innocence, his slender fingers playing with the long pointy leafs, sticking out of the floral arrangement decorating the front desk.

John’s hand immediately grabbed Rick by his elbow and squeezed it so tightly that Rick squeaked. “You will not make inappropriate remarks about Milton or his submissives under any circumstances,” John hissed into his ear.

“I just asked if they were coming,” Rick exclaimed vehemently. “How was that inappropriate?”

“Quit the innocent act,” John let out a whispered growl. “I mean it, Rick, one word, gesture or look that is less than civilized for my standards and I will take the skin off your back. You’re here as my submissive, and your behavior is a reflection of my dominance. I will not have it mocked.”

“Sheesh,” Rick pulled his elbow away from John. “Is this place some kind of arena for dominants to beat their chest and show themselves off? I should have guessed it.” There was something else Rick wanted to say, but as John’s heavy hand settled on his buttocks, Rick’s mouth immediately closed.

Johnny grabbed their key from the young receptionist who gave them a knowing look and marched Rick upstairs.

“The brochure with the rules are in your room, sir,” the receptionist called after John, who nodded his understanding. Power exchange parties always had rules, but getting Rick to agree to rules was going to be problematic, if Rick’s mood didn’t improve.   

 “I’m sorry, I’ve been a brat,” Rick mumbled as they started to climb the stairs.

John turned around abruptly to look at Rick, stopping for a moment and raising an eyebrow.

Rick shrugged his shoulders and went on, “I know I’ve been at your throat all week. It’s just I was looking forward to having a week with you and you went ahead and made arrangements that meant having to split your attention with others.” Rick’s voice trailed off as his eyes dropped to the plush red carpet decorating the stairs.

John pulled Rick into a hug and held onto him. “Angel, you always have my full attention when we’re together and not having to worry what others think will only allow us to have a better time. Besides, I know you like Milton and his boys, at least Mike and Sheldon,” he amended, thinking that they had yet to meet two of Milton’s boys. As for Austin, the boy was so young that it made John uncomfortable, despite the fact that during the short time he’d known Milton, he came to trust and respect the man. Intellectually he understood that Milton would never cross any lines, but Austin’s youth was something that made John uneasy.

Rick rolled his eyes, pushing his palms deeper into John’s hard chest. “They think I’m certifiably crazy. What I think of them hardly matters.” Rick tilted his head up, puckering his lips and demanding a kiss from Johnny.

“Correction, angel, they think we’re both certifiably crazy.” Johnny grinned at his boy and bent his head to place a harsh kiss on Rick’s soft lips. “Yet, they still like us. They can’t be all that sane themselves.” John beamed once more at his angel. He pulled Rick against his chest and started to walk them both to their room.

“Sooo,” Rick crooned from where he was pressed against John’s chest, “being around Milton will not give you ideas?” Johnny looked at Rick uncomprehending. “Like starting a harem?” Rick explained with a funny look of stern disapproval on his face.

Johnny laughed at that and gave Rick another kiss. “No, beautiful, it won’t.”

“All right, then,” Rick said indulgently. “You can play with them.”

Johnny gave Rick a hard pat on his rump and propelled him forward with a slap to the same anatomic region. Their light tussle was interrupted by a blond man, who looked to be in his early thirties, sliding down the stair railing right by their side and almost landing on his face.

Rick’s eyes turned as big as saucers. John was speechless, trying to figure out what had just happened. It wasn’t every day you that you saw a thirty something man sliding down the stairs at a five star hotel.

“What the hell?” Rick’s rant was cut short by a tall, dark-haired man with stern features.

“Swearing is unacceptable behavior, young man.” He measured Rick from top to toe and turned his attention to the younger blond who looked like a schoolboy caught red-handed. “Joshua Emanuel Stevens, you stay right there and wait for me.” The man barked at the blond. “I highly doubt that Quentin finds this sort of dangerous behavior acceptable,” the man continued his stern speech.

Rick’s jaw was close to hitting the floor. Johnny couldn’t remember any other time that his boy was rendered speechless.

“Oh my God, Johnny,” Rick said, recovering from his shock. “We’re in a loony bin!” Rick’s eyes were still perfect circles.

Johnny shook his own stunned state away and putting his finger under Rick’s jaw pushed it close. “To each his own fantasy, Rick. We are not to judge others.” He pulled Rick after him. “Come on, I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

Rick snorted at that. “After that?” He jerked his head after the retreating couple. “I need vodka, at least. Pure alcohol sounds even better. The only good thing is that apparently you saw it too, so I wasn’t hallucinating,” he mumbled under his breath and followed Johnny. “Let’s get to our room, before I see a grown dude in a diaper with a pacifier.”

Johnny had to laugh at that, but deep down a feeling of uncertainty started to rise in him. Were there dudes in diapers walking around the place? It started to sound like a possibility.  

“Ahhhh,” Rick let out a blissful moan as he plummeted on the bed. John couldn’t agree more, the shower stall with hydro massage was perfect. He sat down by Rick’s side and smiled at the look of heavenly peace on Rick’s face. It had been a tense couple of weeks for Rick and seeing him finally relax and enjoy himself was really nice. Johnny hoped he would see more of that expression on his boy’s face this week.   

“I need to install something like that at home; only I will never leave the bathroom if I do.” Rick grinned mischievously at Johnny, stretching his arms out and inviting Johnny to join him.

John bent down, covering Rick, but keeping his weight on his hands. He kissed Rick deeply, but briefly.

“In a second, angel. Let me undo our luggage and then we can have fun,” he promised before pushing himself off the bed and starting to pull out their things from their small suitcases. Both of them were very unpretentious travelers, which meant their entire luggage consisted of two small cabin baggage sized trolley bags.   

While John was arranging their things Rick was busy roaming around in the bedside nightstand. “Rules?!” Rick exclaimed like it was the most offensive thing he had ever heard.

John stopped what he was doing and without turning to face Rick said in his most calm, yet authoritative tone, “Rick, all BDSM events have a set of rules the participants are to abide by. You have attended enough of Arthur’s parties to know that what the Master of the Dungeon says goes. It’s for safety and it cannot be bypassed. It’s expected they would have rules here as well.” He sensed Rick getting ready to say something, so he turned his head to Rick and fixed him with a stern glance. “You will abide by them, Rick! No arguments.”

“Really? I hope for your own sake that you are not familiar with this bizarre piece of literature because if you are and you brought me into this nest of lunatics, I’m going to turn your life into complete hell for a week. And you are welcomed to beat me as much as your heart wants,” Rick finished, his eyes blazing green fires.

“Rick,” John growled his warning.

“Oh, let’s see.” Rick ignored John and started to read the rules loudly. “It is strictly forbidden to run, jump or slide down off the roof,” Rick announced thunderously and gave John a quizzical look. “Or the stairs,” he continued. “This establishes that the lunatic out there earlier was not a singular occurrence. Ah, another good one,” Rick said cheerfully. “It is strictly forbidden to swim beyond the lines marking the swimming perimeter. All brats should be accompanied by their tops at any time during their stay in the water.” The last sentence was accompanied by another look from Rick that bordered on murderous. Johnny felt his stomach tighten in knots. He silently vowed to kill Milton if he’d known what particular kink this community served and still set them up for it. It was something that would not go well with Rick, who still struggled with accepting and understanding different types of submission, and submission that had a heavy dose of relinquishing every day rights, would not sit well with Rick.  “BRATS?” Rick practically shrieked the word. “And that’s not all; it goes on and on. There is another two hundred forbidden activities, that no one of sound mind would actually try. But the fun part just starts here.  Apparently” -He made a pause for dramatic purposes– “we have fixed mealtimes and bedtimes as well. I wonder if the menu is fixed too,” Rick chirped with joy.

John was now sitting on the floor, his head gathered between his hands, his task abandoned.

“Oh, looksy,” Rick said with mock enthusiasm. “There’s more. They even have an appendix. It’s for the TOPS this time,” he said giving John a pointed look. “Instruction for the care of a sick brat.” He read the title of one brochure and put it by his side with exaggerated care. “Instructions for dealing with a spinning brat,” he read another one. “There are more. Would you care for me to read them all? Or is it too un-brat of me to actually know how to read?” he said acidly.

Johnny said nothing. He was definitely going to murder Milton. He was just too busy fantasizing about different ways of doing it.

“Congratulations, you ape,” Rick snapped, jumping off the bed and striding to stand above John’s head. “You have dragged us into a sanatorium administrated for the insane by the insane.”

John snarled and leaped to his feet. His beast was too wound up as it was; he was not going to give Rick any more leeway than he already had. He pushed Rick against the wall, captured his wrists, and pulled his hands over his head, trapping Rick between the hard surface and his own body.

“Doesn’t matter where we are, you will treat me with respect, boy,” John growled right into Rick’s face. “Or I will give this people a show of dominance that will crumble their little, neatly organized world.” Rick went limp under him, eyes lowering in submission.

Johnny claimed Rick’s mouth thoroughly, before biting down on the junction between his neck and shoulder. Rick whimpered and let his legs fall apart, allowing Johnny access to his body. John devoured the burning, wanton body trapped under his own superior weight.

“I’m pretty sure, there was a rule about no sex as well,” Rick panted under him. John pulled the boy off the wall and bent him over his knee. His heavy paw descended on Rick’s upturned bottom with merciless speed and power. Rick yipped and howled.

This still could prove to be fun, Johnny mused, right before pushing Rick face down against the bed. He pulled his belt off and secured Rick’s wrists with it to the large headboard that was entirely too suitable for bondage.  

Rick let out a happy moan as he squirmed in John’s arms, effectively waking them both. John hissed at him and swatted his bare butt in retribution.

“It’s vacation. You’re supposed to sleep in,” John grumbled unhappily, knowing too well that his objections were not only moot but also hypocritical. He, himself, had never been able to sleep beyond his usual time for waking up.

Rick’s response was a shameless wiggle of his ass that still held a distinctive reminder of their night’s activities in the form of deep, red welts, replicating John’s belt perfectly. John’s hands roamed all over Rick’s body, as he pulled his boy to lie down over his body’s full length.

They lay like that for a while, kissing and stroking each other – lazily, unhurriedly, as they enjoyed the rare treat of an unrushed morning. There was a special kind of pleasure in such languid caresses that had no clear intent or direction, the only purpose being the simplest act of connection with the other.

Rick eventually rolled off Johnny, pulling the covers with him. He wrapped the large sheet around his body, mimicking a toga and ignoring John’s protest over being left on the bed without cover, walked to the balcony.

“Oh, wow! Johnny get over here, you must see this. The view is stunning!” Rick called enthusiastically, as he reached the balcony.

John crooked his neck to look in the direction of the large terrace that was stretching all along their room. Yesterday, when they reached their room, it was already starting to get dark, so they hadn’t paid much attention to it. Now, with the rising sun coloring the sea and the sky scarlet, the view was impossible to miss. Johnny let out a long whistle and climbed off the bed. He walked onto the balcony and hugged Rick from behind, wrapping his bigger body around Rick’s smaller one, as tightly as possible.

“It’s gorgeous, angel,” John said, nuzzling Rick’s disheveled hair.

“Mmmm, this might be a nest of loonies, but they sure do have a view.”

Rick’s musing brought John back to their current situation. In the excitement and pleasure of last night he had forgotten his discomfort over the fact that the resort sounded to be for those involved in discipline relationships, something that Rick was going to have a problem with. While Johnny had an open mind and acceptance for  the entire range of kink that was done consensually, there were particular variation of kinks that made him deeply uncomfortable. Discipline was one of those. He had no trouble understanding those who readily accepted their own lifestyle as part of BDSM. Why would he? After all, if he could pretend to be a barbarian prince taking an unwilling prisoner to his bed, why couldn’t someone pretend to be the wise, voice of reason to a bratty boy? It might not be his kind of fantasy, but it was still a fantasy. He, however, had problem with those who denied the fantasy aspect of such an arrangement, claiming it to be a simple necessity of life, a legitimate educational tool. That was where he drew the line. The power held inherent darkness, and when the one vested with such power had a genuine belief that his judgment was somehow superior to that of his partner, it was a recipe for disaster. Abuse was never too far in such cases; in fact, more often than not such claims were a mere mask for an abusive relationship. His dilemma, when faced with such situations, was always the same: did he have a right to interfere in any way without expressly being asked? He could never figure an answer to that. What if he was just projecting his own views on others? What if his assessment of the situation was wrong and it was just a mutually understood and accepted fantasy that just looked real from  the outside? If anything, his relationship with Rick, seen from outside, would look abusive. In this particular situation, the facts were even less clear. How could he know for sure that this wasn’t just a safe harbor to live a fantasy by those having an inclination to it? There was no reason for him to believe that it all wasn’t a part of an elaborate scene, created for the benefit of the participants. Of course it seemed almost impossible that the organizers could possibly guarantee that all participants were in clear understanding of the situation, but that was true for any BDSM event; there was always the danger of a rotten apple infiltrating the scene.

John let out a deep breath, as he tried to sort out his thoughts.

“Oh, God,” Rick exclaimed, pressing his head back against John’s chest. “I can hear your brain working. I think, I can even smell it burning,” Rick chuckled and turned around in John’s arms. “What are you thinking about?” He enquired, looking at John with bright green eyes that burst with the all the colors of the rainbow, as the sea and sun reflected in them.

Johnny closed his eyes against the impossible beauty of his lover and took a deep, calming breath. Sometimes the emotions toward Rick storming in his heart were just too much to bear. He could feel his love for Rick and his need to possess his boy intoxicate him to a degree of near lightheadedness. He was terrified of his own reaction at moments like this, but when he opened his eyes and saw the soft smile on his boy’s serene face, his confident and cocky tilt of the chin, he knew this boy would never cower before him and would never break.  

He bent down and captured Rick’s lips in a long, gentle kiss.

“That we need coffee,” he breathed in response. “And food.”

Rick let out a cracking laugh as merry as the ripple of the waves crashing against the rocky seashore in the background. “Agreed,” Rick nodded his head smartly. “Now get dressed, before you get charged for indecent exposure.” He smiled at John, measuring him from head to toe.

“I’m in a resort catering to kinky people, I think I’m allowed to walk naked on my own balcony.”

“Wrong kink, tiger,” Rick sniggered, patting John’s muscular hip as he walked around him and into the room.

Walking into the restaurant, Johnny let his eyes scan the hall in hopes of detecting Milton and Co. There was no trace of Milton’s gang. It was still too early, so John consoled himself, vaguely remembering the itinerary Milton had emailed to him. He really didn’t want to spend an entire day in this place without Milton’s reassuring tendency toward diplomacy.

They settled at a table and a waiter approached them immediately.

“Your menu, sir,” the young man attending them said, placing a leather bound menu in front of Johnny. “And will you be ordering for your brat, or should he have a menu? Most of our tops order for their brats to insure healthy choices,” the waiter continued helpfully.

“A menu for him.” Johnny barely concealed a wince. This was breakfast, not a formal dinner with boys kneeling at their dominants’ feet, and  John hated events too heavy on protocol. He even avoided Arthur’s parties if the rules called for the strict following of a formal code of behavior. Rick gave the man a glower that could have killed him on the spot. The waiter was lucky he had his eyes on John, because no amount of courage would have kept him in place if he’d noticed Rick’s death glare.  

“Thank you.” Johnny forced a smile to go with the words. “Be so kind as to get us coffee before we decide on our breakfast.”

The young man looked at John as if he had asked for Kama-Sutra volume in the Vatican Library. “We don’t have coffee, sir,” the waiter huffed, trying and failing at politeness.

“Excuse me?” Rick’s voice rose with indignation. “A resort that advertises itself as having five stars cannot tell me it doesn’t have coffee.” Rick’s voice boomed in the semi-empty hall, making everybody’s head turn toward them.

The waiter valiantly tried not to acknowledge Rick’s existence, but the effort was taking its toll on the young man. Rick pushed his chair a bit farther back and was now in full Richard Masters’s mode.

The waiter gave John a pleading look. Johnny held his hands up and shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t look at me; I’m still trying to process the no coffee part.” As he finished his sentence, with the corner of his eye he caught a man moving toward their table. He was tall and broad, and he was walking directly to Rick. Johnny stood up from his chair and came to stand between the approaching man and his boy.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” The man asked, a well rehearsed smile on his face that was something between indulgent and condescending. “I am Robert Bates,” he introduced himself, gathering John’s arm in a strong shake. “You apparently are new to this, I could help you rein your brat in, if you need it,” he said brightly. 

John felt his vision cloud with red mist. Who was this pompous stranger that dared to assume he would share Rick? His boy’s soft hand slipping into his hand was what anchored Johnny to sanity. Rick put his head against John’s hand and rubbed his face against it, purring like a kitten. John physically felt his need for violence subside to manageable levels.

“I believe we can find a place that serves coffee, somewhere. This is the French Riviera after all; coffee shops will be at every step,” he told Rick, pulling him by his hand, while his eyes remained fixed on the other man.

Robert’s smile faltered at John’s clear refusal to follow his lead.

“No.” Rick’s voice was serene to everyone else. To John it was a declaration of war. “I can cite you dozen of cases,” Rick crooned, taking several steps to stand almost toe to toe with Robert, “where courts have ruled that if the customer is paying a higher price, he is entitled to more superior goods or services. For the amount you charge, I can demand you either grab me a cup of coffee from Columbia or carry me on your shoulders to the nearest café and serve the damn thing on your back.” Rick’s eyes blazed with anger.

“Young man, I will not allow this.” The man was obviously getting ready for a scalding lecture, but Rick would have none of it.

“As a paying customer”  –Rick flicked the name-tag attached to Robert’s’s chest– “you will allow whatever I say you should.”

“Enough, Rick,” John said softly. “I have no intention of spoiling our vacation any further. We will go find ourselves a place to get our breakfast and then look for another hotel.”  

“Oh, but darling, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve paid for this and I expect to receive what I’ve paid for.”

“Ricky.” John let his voice turn a shade sterner.

“That is why brats need tighter reins,” It was one of the customers who was glaring at the pair of them. “If you can’t handle him, let those with appropriate training do it.”

That was the point that Johnny realized if he didn’t leave right that moment he would turn into a threat to public safety. What the man’s words suggested was not a fantasy enjoyed by consenting parties. John had just declared that he wasn’t comfortable with the scene, and their response was that Rick should be forced into accepting rules that neither Rick nor John were interested in accepting as part of their game. “Move, Rick,” he barked at Rick, pulling him by his elbow.

“Not a chance,” Rick declared with finality and pulled his elbow free.

Johnny grabbed Rick by his braid and snarled at him, “Kneel.” When Rick didn’t move, he roared, “Now!”

Rick’s eyes went wide, and he hit the floor instantly. The room went silent, even the shocked intakes of breath froze in mid air. Robert was the first to recover from the shock and try to approach them.

“If you intend to come any closer to me, you might want to call security,” Johnny said, glaring at the man. Whatever the man was he was not stupid. He remained still. “You have your games, this is mine,” John announced to no one in particular, still holding Rick’s eyes. “I should make you kiss my feet and apologize for disobeying me,” he said to Rick, bending down slightly and lowering his voice so that it wouldn’t be heard by anyone but Rick.

Rick’s eyes got even wider; his breath quickened beyond reasonable. His heartbeat was almost visible in his enlarged pupils. The excited flare of Rick’s nostrils told John that his boy was discovering the exhibitionist in himself. Rick was spellbound by the unashamed demonstration of dominance John was throwing at the patrons. John felt his dominance expand and grow till it overwhelmed his essence and slipped into the room and their surroundings. Rick’s reaction was priceless. His head bent down and he placed a reverent kiss to John’s feet, murmuring apologies. The murmur of those scandalized by the sight brushed John’s ears, but John couldn’t spare them a second. He pulled Rick to his feet and marched him out of the restaurant.

****

“We’re going on vacation! We’re going on vacation!” Austin danced around the table, waving his passport in the air.

“I thought I told you not to feed that boy sugar for breakfast,” Ryan said, making a grab for a now fleeing Austin.

“I didn’t,” Milton said dryly. “That was Mace’s coffee cake.”

“It wasn’t my cake. It was the coffee. Austin made it this morning. You could’ve creosoted the back pasture fence with it.” Mace smiled languidly and swung his carry on over his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re six rows ahead of you.”

“Austin,” Milton growled.

“Yes, sir,” Austin chirped. He really shouldn’t have made the coffee, and he most certainly shouldn’t have drunk four cups. Except for alcohol, Milton was cool about what he ate, but they both knew coffee made him insane. Too much coffee and Milton would either exercise him to death or find some way to take him down. The only problem was they needed to leave for the airport and Austin was vibrating.

“Suggestions, gentlemen,” Milton asked, his eyes more irritated than amused.

“There’s always Valium, Master.”

“We could tie him alongside the car and let him run it off,” Ryan said.

“It’s not funny,” Austin snapped.

“Austin,” Tilden said gently. Tilden was always gentle. He was standing next to Luke, his long arm resting around Luke’s shoulders. “You’ve never flown, have you? Are you afraid of flying?”

Austin felt his face flush, and he momentarily stopped his kitchen laps to jiggle his leg. He was the baby. Of course he’d be the one afraid of flying. Mike had been all over the world. Luke and Tilden flitted off to Russia. He was the one who stayed firmly in the states.

“Come here, boy.” That was Milton at his most dominant. That was a voice Austin didn’t disobey. Milton’s hand was heavy on Austin’s shoulder. Thick fingers twined in Austin’s hair and jerked his head up. “I could have made this easy for you, but you chose the difficult path. Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” Austin swallowed and fought to keep his voice steady.

“My touch is bondage. You will stay still and close. Any infraction will be punished severely.”

Austin nodded, not trusting his voice. Milton was scary when he looked like that, more scary than any airplane crash. Austin wanted to know the possible consequences, but he didn’t dare ask. Milton knew how to punish: the cane with its brutal sharpness, the hand far longer than any pleasure, the steady look of disappointment in his eyes, the lack of the cherished good boy and ready affection. Austin would rather get beat twice over than live with one of Milton’s lectures and quiet demand to reflect on his decisions. Those were awful; those were a truly furious Milton, a Milton not only being his dominant but the older and more senior dealing with another of Austin’s idiocies. Would he go there if Austin couldn’t stop his toe tapping and knuckle crunching?

“Boy, this should be a challenge. We haven’t done much bondage, and it’s far harder without the physical restraint. Will you succeeded or will your first night in France feature lovely red skin?”

Austin drew in a long, harsh breath. Milton wasn’t really mad, exasperated maybe, but not mad. Austin could do this, and if he failed it wouldn’t be too awful. A spanking on a new continent might be kind of cool.  

Austin peered out the window of the “magical express.” As far as he could tell it was an ordinary bus. It hadn’t turned into a flying bus nor did it even rate an automatic driver. Two overly enthusiastic tour guides in khaki shorts and yellow vests had herded them aboard, and an elderly man with nicotine stained teeth and black gloves sat behind the giant steering wheel. There were maybe five other couples on the bus besides Milton’s gangs. Well, he assumed couples, but Milton’s merry men looked like couples also. 

Milton had sat next to Austin throughout the long and tedious flight. It hadn’t been scary, only tedious, and the film had been awful. Milton was now with Sheldon, Luke with Tilden, and Austin with Mike. This was how they tended to break up if doubles were needed. Sometimes they’d do Tilden and Milton, Sheldon and Austin, and Luke and Mike. Austin craned his neck to see who else was on the bus. At least the crowd was younger than most of the guys at the GMB headquarters; some of the guys didn’t look much older than Austin himself. A man with raven black hair and the bluest of blue eyes grinned shamelessly and waved when he caught Austin looking. Austin grinned back. Austin slid out of his seat and shifted back to the empty seat across from the black-haired man.

“Hi, I’m Austin.”

“Young man, you shouldn’t be walking in a moving vehicle. It’s most dangerous.”

What? Who? Austin unabashedly stared at the man giving him a lecture. The guy was pretty enough if stuffy and preppy was your wet dream. He had on khakis and a dark polo shirt. A copy of one of the financial papers was crumpled in his hand. His eyes were green behind very proper tortoise shell glasses.

“A couple of seats hardly seems dangerous,” Austin said with a shrug. “I was bored.”

“Did your top give you permission?”

Austin looked forward between the seats. Milton had changed places with Luke and was now asleep with his head on Tilden’s shoulder, and Tilden’s eyes were buried in some journal. “He’s sleeping.”

“Don’t lie, young man. I saw you slide around your top. What did you tell him?”

“Oh, Mike, he’s not my top. God, he likes to be beat way too much to ever be called a top.” Austin shut up quickly at the wide-eyed stare from the man. He shouldn’t have said anything about Mike anyway. Mike still had a bit of a complex about the whole submissive thing. He played like the devil, but Austin wasn’t blind to Milton’s work with Mike on the other side. Austin lived in their nuthouse; he was as Landon put it wise beyond his years about the mechanics of these relationships, not that he was supposed to hear Landon’s comment. Austin had a bad habit of listening to closed door conversations. Don’t get caught was his motto, not don’t do it.

“Beat?” the man said, his eyebrows arching into his hairline.

“Never mind,” Austin fumbled over his words. He’d thought this resort was for guys into power exchanges, but these two were turning decidedly green.

“Young man, are you suggesting that whoever this mystery man is beats your friend over there?”

“Only when he wants it, and it’s probably none of your business. I don’t even know your name.”

Ryan’s massive presence was suddenly filling the bus aisle. “Austin, Mace asked me to bring you one of these Russian pie things. I’m not even going to attempt the name, or Luke and Tilden will subject me to an hour lecture on voiced and devoiced consonants.”

“They aren’t the cabbage ones?”

“I know better that that.” Ryan ruffled Austin’s already messy hair. “Would your new friends like some?” Ryan smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Ryan Fisher and a friend of this young scamp.” Ryan was so perfect in social settings, big and comfortable with a ready smile that could dazzle the most stubborn. “My partner and I are sure looking forward to a week in the sun. New England winters never seem to end.”

“I’m Glen Rhodes, and this is my partner Brian.” Glen shook Ryan’s hand. “The young man introduced himself as Austin.”

“That’s right. Our baby Austin.”

“Ryan,” Austin snorted.

“Don’t pout. You know you like it. I do know the score.”

Yes, Ryan would. Ryan for all his easy smiles and high rating on the most huggable index wasn’t a pushover and was acutely aware of what went on around him. He took his responsibilities as a dominant and as the Green Mountain Boys’ safety officer seriously. Austin was pretty sure Ryan would even get in Milton’s face if he thought something was wrong. Milton never really showed it, but Milton never showed much anyway, and he’d gone off and talked to Ryan alone a few times. 

“He’s most outgoing,” Glen said carefully.

“Not always. I think he’s thrilled to find someone else young enough to still remember his driving test. Some of our social gatherings are heavy on the older generation.”

“Ryan.” Austin tried to mock punch Ryan, but as usual Ryan was too quick and neatly pinned Austin’s hand behind his back. 

“Behave, boy,” Ryan growled. “I know you get tired of people talking about their high blood pressure medication.”

“Is it your first time here?” Glen asked, clearly trying to interrupt Ryan and Austin’s altercation.

“Yes,” Ryan said, gently patting Austin’s ass. “It seemed like a fun way to relax.”

“Oh it is,” Glen said with a smile of perfectly white teeth. “It’s educational also, lots of great seminars. I try to come at least once a year. I wouldn’t miss it, but it’s the first time for young Brian here.” Glen brushed Brian’s hair back and dropped a chaste kiss on his forehead. “He’s new to this lifestyle, so he’s understandably a little anxious. Aren’t you, honey?”

Brian nodded and blushed, pink rising up his cheeks.

“You’ll have lots of fun,” Glen murmured. “I told you that you’d make friends and see you’ve already made one.” Glen kissed Brian’s forehead again. “The transition can be tough for the new ones,” Glen said, turning his attention back toward Ryan. “I assume Austin is new to this lifestyle. He did introduce himself without his top.”

“Not really,” Ryan said evasively. “Perhaps our protocols are different than yours. I assume we will be briefed.”

“Oh, yes, the hotel director does a wonderful job. There is a program for all first time visitors with both a couples component and separate sessions for brats and tops. Brian is really looking forward to some of the brat activities. The boating and the riding shouldn’t be missed. It’s a great chance for them to stretch their wings without us hovering. All the guides and staff have extensive training.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Ryan said in a voice that Austin knew was a desperate effort not to break out laughing. Ryan’s tolerance for bratting was a notorious zero, but the firm hand clamped around Austin’s wrist suggested that Austin was safer pretending he didn’t know that fact. “I’m sure my boy will want to check out many of the activities. He can be enthusiastic.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” Glen said smoothly. “I’m sure we will all have a grand time.”

“I’m sure,” Ryan said, the picture of politeness with his teeth ground shut and his neck rigid. He smiled, a smile that Austin knew was false. “My boy will be missing me. It was nice to meet you, and Brian stop by once we’ve all rested and changed. We’re not shy about our lifestyle, and we’ll be happy to answer any questions. I know this all has to seem very strange.” The smile Ryan gave Brian was gentle and very genuine. “Come, Austin, your new friend looks tired.”

“What?” Austin asked as they made their way to the rear of the bus.

“Be good.”

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I know.” Ryan squeezed Austin’s shoulder. “You haven’t been around these types. I want you to stick close to Milton until we understand the protocol. He’s good at the diplomacy crap.”

“What types?”

“Discipline, I think. I’m prejudiced. Milton will be more fair about it, and maybe I read it wrong, but that was the vibe I was getting.” Ryan shook himself and smiled. “Never mind. It’s only a week and we’ll have fun.”

Playing in Vermont

Playing in Vermont

Mike watched the broad back and dark hair disappear down the hall. He'd met John and his lunatic submissive last year, or maybe both John and Rick were lunatics. The rumors had been thick after they'd left; supposedly Ryan had beat John to the near scarring point on John's request, and, of course, everyone had heard about the midnight exercise. That sort of behavior was impossible to hide in Vermont.

"What's he doing here?" Mike asked as he saw Milton's head pop out of the kitchen.

"They," Milton said dryly. "It seems some deal blew up, and Rick had to come to Boston on emergency to try to put it back together."

"I bet he's in a lovely mood." Mike rolled his eyes. He was actually getting use to their nice tame household, and now Rick would be crashing about.

"Stay out of it."

Mike heard the warning in the tone, but he didn't stay silent. "You don't. You were all over them last time. I'm not being a frog on the fucking lily pad if Rick's an ass."

"Boy." Milton fisted Mike's hair and jerked his head back. "Are you needing something from me so you can be halfway civilized?"

Mike licked his lips and lowered his eyes, knowing he was trying for seductive and probably coming off as half witted. He looked down the hall where John had disappeared. 

"John," Milton said almost under his breath. "You like danger, and he feels dangerous. Do you want to play with him?"

Mike managed a nod, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

"I'll see what I can do, but in the meantime no provoking Rick. I will not be kind if you disobey me here." Milton gave a final jerk on Mike's hair and then shoved him forward, so he almost went to his knees. "Behave," Milton growled.

"Yes, sir." Mike caught his balance and ran his hand over his hair, trying to soothe the sting from his head. He'd learned not to disobey Milton when his eyes looked like obsidian discs. Milton could take Mike places he could only imagine before, but Milton could  also be creative in brutally annoying ways if he was pissed. Mike didn't cross him, or at least not often. Milton was a dominant in everything, and if that meant swallowing a little pride and being obedient, Mike swallowed the pride and made the sacrifice. Real submission required obedience when he wanted to do anything and everything else. Milton was adamant, no play without the other. He was also fair about it. There was no secret agenda, no pretense that Mike was somehow less than grownup or capable. It was about submission. Own up and bend his knee and his will or don't ask anything of Milton. Mike bent his knee. He needed Milton. He wanted Milton, and he'd take the good with the bad.

"Thank you." The kiss on Mike's cheek was soft and gentle, a tickle of lips and beard. "My good boy. I'll see what I can do.”

****

Rick walked into their room still boiling with anger. It had been a long and pointless day. He had tried everything he could to get things back on track, but nothing had worked. The deal wasn’t going to happen unless some miracle occurred, and Rick had long learned that if he wasn’t the one to come up with miracles, they didn’t tend to happen on their own. He had managed to convince everyone to meet again in three days time, until than he needed to think of something. Only thinking with rage clouding his mind wasn’t an easy task. He needed to punch something. He had played the part of the level tempered and patient voice of reason for the entire day, now he needed to let it go, to let his anger and accumulated frustration explode in a violent and aggressive way. He raised the thick folder with drafts and papers above his head, intending to slam it down onto the small desk sitting in the corner of the room.

“Slam that down, and I’ll slam you down.” John’s voice came from behind Rick in a level and soft tone.  Rick hadn’t heard him enter the room. The man moved like shadow, which at times like this annoyed Rick to the extreme.

Rick twirled around, intending to unleash his anger on Johnny. If anything Johnny was the ideal target for his ire. He was strong, both physically and mentally, and could handle anything Rick threw at him. He also would always forgive Rick, no matter how far he went. The part in him that craved being at Johnny’s feet whined its disagreement at the prospect of challenging his dominant, but the need for a real fight was greater, and Rick silenced his submissive creature.

The second Rick’s eyes landed on Johnny the blood burning with anger in his veins turned into ice. Johnny looked magnificent; he looked glorious. He also looked terrifying. It wasn’t often that John let himself show his dominance in all its glory. He usually looked the part, even when he didn’t want to, but this kind of unshielded dominance with the darkest shades of black wasn’t something Johnny usually displayed. Rick wasn’t even sure if this was dominance. More accurately, this was power in its most primal, violent and aggressive state. Johnny was oozing danger right now, and Rick felt his insides tingle with the need to hit the floor and kiss this man’s feet. But there also was a part of him that longed to battle with this powerful beast in front of him.

Rick’s hand holding the file went up again, his eyes fixed on John’s. Johnny’s lips spread in a cruel smile that sent shivers through Rick’s body. Before Rick could bring the file down, John was upon him in one high leap worthy of a tiger. He snatched Rick’s hand in mid motion and squeezed it tightly until it went slack, and the folder fell down from it.

“You want to play, boy?” Johnny growled a low, dangerous snarl, the sound echoing from the walls and penetrating Rick’s gut. Rick’s only answer was a series of short and fast breaths. “Make damn sure this is a kind of play you want, Rick,” Johnny murmured right into Rick’s face, his hand still gripping Rick’s wrist tightly. “All these dominants and pretty little subs around me all day long, with my boy out of reach make me edgy, real edgy,” Johnny sang into Rick’s ear, nuzzling at the hair above his ear. This was the lion that knew he had his dinner and could afford to play with it a little before eating it.

John’s power was bewitching, pinning Rick under its spell. Rick turned his head slowly toward Johnny and snapped his teeth. His own gesture took Rick by surprise. Johnny was fast enough to snap his head back and avoid the bite. His hand was still wrapped around Rick’s wrist. The look in John’s eyes was downright frightening. Rick had the upmost trust in Johnny. He had never considered that Johnny might actually harm him. But at moments like this, looking into the pit of those stormy eyes, clouded by menace and unbendable will, Rick could feel the touch of real fear slowly taking over his heart.

Johnny pushed Rick against the wall and trapped him there with his body. The smile was one of pure sadistic pleasure. He grabbed both of Rick’s wrists and pinned them above his head.

“My brave and beautiful angel, so foolish also,” he tsk-ed and bent down to lick Rick’s throat. “I thought we’d talked about this, beautiful,” Johnny breathed out in a low-pitched voice, pinching Rick’s lips painfully between his fingers. “You leave that garbage outside. When you come to me, you are exclusively mine. I will not tolerate competition from anyone.” His voice was hot lava in Rick’s ear. Rick felt his thighs parting on their own accord to make room for Johnny. Johnny chuckled softly. “You’re such a wanton slut.”

Rick struggled against the hands pinning him down to no avail. Johnny just pressed him down harder and one of his hands tore at Rick’s clothes, while the other held his hands pinned to the wall. Rick was quickly stripped of his suit, and his underwear was torn beyond redemption. Johnny kicked the pile of clothes on the floor, pushing them farther away.

“All these fancy clothes have gotten to your head. Let’s remind you of your real place, shall we, beautiful?”

The speed with which Ricky was flipped and pressed belly first against the wall was dizzying. The only reason his head didn’t smack against the wall full force was that Johnny put his forearm against Rick’s throat and held it back as he flipped him.

Rick didn’t manage to recover fully from the harsh manhandling before Johnny entered him, fast and furious, with nothing but spit to ease the way. The only reason his scream didn’t cause the room to be flooded by well meaning GMB dominants was that Johnny had clamped a hand over his mouth before pushing into him. Johnny was claiming back what was his; there was no other word for it, and it was brutal and relentless. A myriad of emotions and sensations exploded in Rick’s body and mind, leaving him devoid of all energy. The pain from coupling was almost unbearable, shooting up his spine and into his gut, robbing him of any desire to resist Johnny. That was exactly its purpose. Rick knew it as he writhed helpless and unresisting under Johnny’s weight and his vicious thrusts. There was no place left for anything but Johnny when he was asserting himself so completely over Rick.   

It didn’t take long for Johnny to finish. As soon as Johnny’s body left, Rick collapsed to his knees, heaving and trying to catch his breath, tearstained cheeks flushed with scarlet from the pain and pleasure of being claimed. Rick could hear the sounds of Johnny cleaning himself and arranging his clothes, but he had no energy to turn around.

The footsteps got closer, and Rick’s scalp burnt with the searing pain of his hair being yanked out. He whimpered as his neck was snapped back and he was forced to face his dominant. Johnny traced a tear running down Rick’s cheek.

“That’s a much better look on my boy.” Johnny smirked at Rick. “Now that you are in the right mindset, we can start to play for real.” He leered at Rick, steel shining in his blue eyes. “Clean yourself and get dressed. Go get something to eat. I will find you when I feel like it. Do not forget for a second that you belong to me,” John hissed, jerking Rick’s head farther back, making Rick yelp. He bent down behind Rick, hand still fisting Rick’s braid, keeping his head tipped back. “This—” John let his hand roam over Rick’s body, only to rest for couple of second on his belly and rub it gently. “As much as this—” John tapped two fingers against Rick’s skull. “—are mine. I will not have you thinking about anything, but me when you’re home.”

The hand was gone and so was Johnny. It took Rick couple of moments to pull himself together and stand up.

Rick was still shaken from the encounter with Johnny. Rick had looked for a fight, but Johnny had come down on him like a ton of bricks. There wasn’t much fighting to do when one was trapped under a pile of bricks. Somehow Johnny’s brutal intervention had managed to push everything out of his mind. Their encounter had left Rick a bit unsteady. He didn’t think he was ready to face their hosts, but Johnny had ordered him to eat. He was certain that he wasn’t ready to disobey Johnny in his current mood.

Rick slipped into the kitchen, praying he wouldn’t stumble on one of their jolly dominants or perfect submissives. He made himself a sandwich and left the room as quickly as possible. He crossed the dining hall and headed for the solarium. He enjoyed the tranquility of that place, the warmth of it. It felt like the perfect place to get himself sorted. He felt all over the place. Usually when Johnny would tear him apart like this, he would also put Rick back together, but not this time. Johnny had promised that they were just starting to play, so there wouldn’t be any putting Rick back until Johnny was done tearing him apart. Rick wasn’t sure whether the prospect made him tingle with anticipation or if it made him want to run away screaming. One thing he knew for sure was that there was nothing else on his mind at that moment but Johnny.

He walked into the solarium and huddled against the big glass wall, trying to keep his weight on his hip, instead of his ass. He sighed and brought the sandwich to his mouth. At that second he felt something; raising his eyes, he noticed the man staring at him.

“Oh, hi,” Rick said sheepishly, feeling awkward for not noticing the other man. It was Mike, Milton’s crazy sub with all his arsenal of jewelry.

Rick remembered Mike from their first visit. Mike had been fun, despite his less then orthodox appearance, which Rick found kind of fascinating. Mike had talked to him about some of his own mistakes and crazy behavior, and Rick had felt the two of them shared a connection, a kind of mutual understanding, even though it was clear that Mike regarded Rick as unbalanced, to say the least.    

“Howdy,” Mike said in some kind of deliberate accent that left Rick wondering if he was being intentionally teased or humiliated.

Rick took another bite of sandwich and mumbled something incoherent around the thick bread and meats. Incoherency was probably safer with Mike. Rick didn’t understand GMB subs. This was a world that felt both familiar and foreign to him, a world of secret protocols and strange rituals that were incomprehensible. Without the blasted deal hanging over his head, it might be fun to explore this strange world, and it might be fun to have a lobotomy with an icepick also. He tried to clear the unsettledness from behind his eyes. He wasn’t ready to face these hordes.

“Bad day?” Mike said with a smile that suggested both teasing and understanding.

“It’s going to take a miracle, and I’m not owed any favors by the pantheon of saints.” Rick stared out the window; he didn’t have the energy to be polite to this prying idiot. He could be the cold and polite Richard Masters, and if John found out, he’d be as good as dead, or he could be an exhausted, snappish, and intolerant submissive and also be dead. There was no way he could be a polite submissive. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s beyond your line of work.” Rick didn’t actually know what Mike did for a living or if he did anything but wander around looking like a piercer’s model. Six earrings in each ear, and God only knows what was under the pants and shirt.

“Hoity-toity upscale lawyer. I don’t get paid enough by the hour or wear the right designer suits. Fine you can be miserable alone. You like wallowing in misery. Forget I tried to be pleasant and a good host. Forget everything. Just go shove a fucking stick up your ass and stay out of my way.”

“Not such a sweet boy, are you? Thin veneer. Typical,” Rick said in his slickest lawyer voice, “the halfwits and those with the weakest cases resort to anger first. I thought they had higher standards here.”

“Just go fuck yourself or get your giant to do it,” Mike snarled. “Don’t even start with me, you asshole.”

“Boys.” Milton stood in the doorway. Rick didn’t really want to think about how long he’d been within earshot or what he’d heard. Milton had no authority over Rick, but Milton’s current expression suggested he had authority over all the dominions of heaven and earth. This was one royally pissed off dominant, and a dominant who was about to let them know how deep and wide he could get pissed.

“I was just leaving,” Rick said, lifting his chin and striding toward the door in a falsely confident step.

“I see,” Milton said with an irritating normalcy and nonchalantly leaned against the doorframe. Milton wasn’t as big as John, but there was still no going through him without some sort of rugby maneuver, a tackle that would surely fail.

“Are you going to continue to block the door? I believe false imprisonment carries a weighty penalty, and I believe the writ of Habeas corpus is sacrosanct in this country.”

“Habeas corpus has been suspended before; the most notable suspension was during the Civil War. There has also been several decisions suggesting that war prisoners and foreign nationals during times of conflict might not be entitled to such protections. Learned opinions vary on the matter. I’m sure you are at least peripherally aware of the appropriate Supreme Court cases.”

Mike groaned and held his head in his hands. “Don’t, please.”

“Are you ill?” Mike’s groan had come from deep in his throat, and he was the picture of misery. Rick wasn’t a doctor, but this man looked truly ill.

“No,” Mike mumbled, lifting his head from his hands. “You’ve not lived with Milton. I’d rather be beat with barbed wire than listen to a lecture on history. He’ll make me have a learned discussion,” Mike whined and gave Milton a pitiful and desperate look.

Milton laughed: easy comfortable, and friendly. He stepped forward and caught Mike’s wrist and pulled him close. The kiss on the cheek was chaste, but it suggested far more than it was showing. “Behave yourself and I won’t. I do distinctly remember reminding you not to provoke our guests,” Milton said with enough sharpness that it was obviously a rebuke.

“Yes, sir,” Mike said softly and with a submissiveness that Rick thought he could never muster. Rick didn’t entirely understand the dynamics of the relationship between Milton and any of his submissives. Firstly, there was the insane fact that there was more than one, but more the rebuke seemed genuine. Milton’s authority bled across some lines that Rick really didn’t want to think about, sacred borders that only made Rick angry as both a human and a lawyer. He and Mike had been arguing. They were adults; they had every right to argue. What right did Milton have to dictate manners as if they were incompetent human beings? They weren’t children or mental patients.

“Go wait for me in the study.” Milton swatted Mike’s ass and pushed him out the door. “Straight there. No passing Go or collecting two hundred dollars.”

What? That was an incomprehensible instruction. Everything here was incomprehensible. Rick could feel his ire rising, and he stared up at Milton with an open challenge in his eyes.

“Reference to Monopoly,” Milton said easily, “but that’s not what’s bothering you, not with murder in your eyes.”

“You have no right--” Rick was usually facile with words, but Milton’s quiet posture of I’ve heard everything, boy, was as unnerving as it was irritating. It seemed to sweep Rick’s usual verbal skills out of reach and leave him an angry, sputtering hyena.

“Sit down, Rick.” Milton made a sweeping gesture at one of the wicker chairs.

“You have no authority over me.”

Milton sighed and let his dark eyes rest on Rick, unintimidated and unbothered. “I am your host, and it is common courtesy to at least make an effort to be polite and thoughtful to your host. You are also well aware that I am a dominant as I am aware that you’re a submissive.”

“I’m John’s submissive,” Rick snarled.

Milton held up his hand in a stop gesture. “If you don’t want me to treat you as a submissive than don’t keep demanding my attention as a dominant. You are not totally new at this game, and you know what you’re doing. My relationship with my boys might not be identical to yours with John, but it is similar enough for you to know how to avoid triggering my response as a dominant.”

“You take everything as a trigger to dominate. I’m not turning into a piece of mobile artwork to be displayed on John’s arm in perfect silence.”

“Rick, you are neither ignorant of these relationships nor a stupid man. Those words were an open challenge. Now is there something you want to talk about that you perhaps don’t understand or the implications are frightening, or do you want me to drag you to your John and hurl you at his feet with orders to beat manners into his disobedient and provocative boy? I’m happy to do either.”

“We weren’t doing anything,” Rick snarled, not able to clearly make either choice.

“Ah, Mike. That’s what this is about. Mike understands the rules; he knows where the lines are drawn. Yes, I will punish him for his little tiff with you. He’s my boy; decorum prohibits arguing with visitors, and my power over him expands to that degree. I won’t punish him the way you think. Mike is a masochist, a very strong masochist. I would not hit him to punish him. Instead we will talk about being polite as any couple might. Disappointing his dominant is punishment.”

“But...You sent him away. I heard the threat.”

“Yes, there was a threat, but not as in for real punishment. Mike asked for something, and I will use this as the lead in. I would have preferred not to have caught you for real, but Mike understands these dynamics. I merely dislike crushing the afterglow to remind him not to be belligerent. It can’t be helped, and Mike is bright and attuned to me. He’ll know he was close to losing his fun and will be more careful next time. Now go find John; he’ll be looking for you.

Rick looked after Milton’s departing back. Right, go find Johnny. Was this the day of bad and worse choices? If he were to go after Johnny, he would be in trouble for disobeying Johnny. The man had stated he would be the one to find Rick. If he didn’t go, Milton would tell Johnny he’d ordered Rick to go find Johnny, Rick would get his ass kicked for disobeying him, after apparently creating a diplomatic incident with The Grand Master of the GMB. There was just no winning for him today, he thought tiredly and slid down to sit on the ground. He folded his hands on his lap and waited. If Johnny wanted him found, he would have to come after him.

Johnny had efficiently stripped him of any energy or desire to fight. Rick was tired and that little encounter with the lord of the castle had sucked all his power away. At any other time battling with Milton would have been fun; it seemed the man was good at returning the punches, but Rick was positively deflated today. Not to mention that Johnny would probably not appreciate his little tiff with their host.  

Rick, sighed deeply and hugged his knees to his chest. He felt like he was being hunted down, and there was no place to run. Johnny’s ominous promise hung over his head. He tried to concentrate on the deal, but his brain refused to go that way. It kept going back to Johnny like a well trained dog, returning to his master. He wondered once more what Johnny had planned for him. There had been a dark and menacing sparkle in Johnny’s eyes. It still made Rick shiver with undetermined emotion when he thought about it. What would Johnny do to him?

Eventually he curled into himself, pressed himself deeper into the wall, and drifted to sleep.   

****

Mike had curled up on the brown leather sofa. His eyes roved around the pictures on the wall; several new ones of their family had been added recently. Mike hadn’t remembered anyone taking pictures when Milton had pierced his ears, but he could see a picture of himself on the far wall. Only his upper body was in the picture, but he knew he was naked and not just bare chested. If he went closer, he could probably see his mouth open in non stop screams and the cold sweat that had run down his chest. It had been terrifying and so damn good at the same time. He’d thought he was going to explode until Milton had casually given the order to come. It had been better than any porn flick. Milton had caught the semen in his hand, and Mike had lapped it up like a dog with a treat.

Milton’s hand was heavy against Mike’s neck. Mike startled and spun around. Milton should wear a damn bell or at least walk heavier.

“Are you angry about earlier?”

“You’re an adult. You know you were rude to our guest.”

“Sometimes...Sometimes he drives me crazy.” Mike drummed his fingers against the sofa, unable to make eye contact with Milton. 

“Rick finds us hard. Try not to make it harder for him.” Milton ruffled Mike’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “Do I need to say more, or do you get the point?”

“I get it.” Mike glanced at Milton before lowering his eyes and feeling a blush creep up his neck. “I’m not the best host.”

“You can be very good with people.” Milton tapped Mike’s cheek sharply. “You either weren’t trying, or you were intentionally provoking Rick. I’m not sure which, and my concern is not your motive, but your behavior. You are my submissive. I forbid fighting with Rick. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Mike understood. Milton had just placed Mike’s behavior toward their guest under his jurisdiction as a dominant. Milton’s will was now to be obeyed. 

“Good. Stay here and contemplate your role.”

Wonderful, a boring hour or two on the sofa. Mike hated sitting and watching Milton work. Sheldon said it was peaceful, but Sheldon was crazy.

A sharp tap on the door interrupted Mike’s rambling thoughts about Sheldon.

“Come in.” John strode in, shutting the door forcefully behind him and marching toward the desk. 

Mike could see Rick’s attraction to the man. He was big, not only physically, but he had an aura that seemed to glow with energy and force. His black hair stood out in contrast to his brilliant blue eyes. John leaned against Milton’s desk and pinned Mike in his gaze.

“We have a security breach, and you are harboring one of its masterminds.” John’s eyes burned into Mike’s skin. “He is dangerous to us all. I am sure he is not working alone.”

Milton leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “I did find him today with another possible subversive. They were arguing, but that may have been for my benefit after they realized they were overheard.”

“Clever.”

“Very. I believe all possible measures will be needed, Colonel.”

“My pleasure.” John smiled maliciously. 

Mike had been still on the sofa, enthralled by the conversation, but as John turned away from the desk, Mike made a break for the door. His fingers skimmed the doorknob as a heavy hand jerked him back. The handcuffs snapped around his wrist with a cold bite of steel.

“Not clever enough not to be caught.” John raked his eyes over Mike. “He’s a pretty one. This will be my pleasure.”

“No permanent marks; I want that pleasure for myself.” Milton smiled evilly. “I last saw his comrade in sabotage in the solarium. I believe the man’s name is Richard Masters.”

“Fascinating.” John jerked backward on the cuffs as he spoke, putting a strain on Mike’s shoulders. “I’ve been chasing that hoodlum for months. This will be a great pleasure.”

“I’ve done nothing. We’re innocent. We were discussing the roses.”

“Lies.” John spun Mike around. His hand landed precisely across Mike’s cheek. “Truth or consequences. This will be a pleasure. Don’t lie again to me, boy, unless you like the taste of blood in your mouth.” John fisted Mike’s hair and tugged his head back. “Truth, boy, and we’ll get along fine.” John traced a finger down Mike’s cheekbone. “It would be a shame to mar this pretty face. Such a pretty mouth. I could find a fine use for this mouth.” Two fingers swept into Mike’s mouth. “Don’t bite, boy. That wouldn’t have a pretty ending.”

The fingers pushed farther, making Mike cough and choke. He tried to pull away, but the grip on his hair was unrelenting.

“Ah, that’s a good boy. No lies when his mouth is quiet. Suck boy. You’ll want them wet for where they’re going later. Nothing more beautiful than a boy between your fingers. They sing so beautifully when I finally let them talk.”

“I might have to join you for that delicious treat.” 

Milton moved from behind the desk, his presence adding to the looming giants over Mike. Two of Milton’s fingers were added to the crowd in Mike’s mouth. They were at least familiar as Mike’s tongue laved the broad knuckles. 

“Delicious. I will come share.” Milton pulled his fingers from Mike’s mouth and wiped them down Mike’s shirt. 

“Allow me to capture the other saboteur first. Two whores are better than one.” John wiped his saliva soaked fingers across Mike’s face. “Work first.” With a jerk on Mike’s bound arms, Mike was propelled from Milton’s study.

****

Rick startled awake as he was jerked up violently. Ice cold blue eyes stared down at him. He opened his mouth to try and reason with the towering giant. One large hand pressed against his mouth. Johnny bent down and looked straight into Rick’s eyes.

“I told you I’d come and find you. Well, here I am.” There was darkness to his gaze and tone that made shivers run up Rick’s spine. “I said we would play,” Johnny said, looking at Rick with intense concentration, as if studying every cell in his body. “Yes?” he asked succinctly, putting a lot more meaning behind his tone and searching eyes than that one word could ever carry.

Rick’s mind was hazy from his impromptu nap, but he could clearly tell that a genuine answer was expected and would be respected. All he managed to do was a short nod. John’s face split in a cruel smile. His hands jerked Rick to his feet. Before he could gain enough purchase to steady himself on his feet, Johnny snatched Rick’s wrist and twisted it, locking his hand behind his back. Rick squeaked at the pain that shot up his arm and climbed up on his toes in order to relieve some of the pain from the twisted limb.

Rick was marched like that all the way to one of the rooms. It wasn’t their room, but clearly it was just like theirs. It was a room reserved for guests. When the door opened, Rick was dumbstruck to find a handcuffed Mike struggling against his bindings, trying to escape the chair to which he was cuffed.

“Johnny?” Ricky spoke up, trying to turn around and look at the man behind him. The tug to his arm almost dislocated his shoulder. Rick screamed and hung limply in Johnny’s arms.

“Hush, boy! Don’t think your sweet looks and honey filled voice can get you out of this one, boy. I’ve spent too much time chasing you and now that I have you, I’ll make you sing so very nicely.” The menace was thick in John’s voice, making the breath catch in Rick’s throat; the broad figure loomed over him dangerously.

“Let us go, you fucker!” Mike shouted. Rick’s eyes moved slowly over to the struggling man. “You can’t keep us here. We were just discussing the roses, nothing more!”

Rick blinked slowly several times, as he tried to assimilate the information. Johnny chuckled beside him. Pushing Rick down to the floor, Johnny walked to Mike. It was slow and deliberate, the saunter of a panther toward cornered prey. It was fascinating to watch Johnny in all his glory when he wasn’t John’s primary target. Being pinned under John’s intense gaze was exhilarating, watching him from aside provided another kind of thrill. 

“Clever little piglet, letting your accomplice know your alibi.” Johnny sang the words, his tone filled with taunt.

He caressed Mike’s cheek gently before slapping him. The sound cracked off the wall like a gunshot, making Rick jump up and gasp with surprise. He studied Mike’s face for clues, fascinated at the play of open emotions on his handsome face – so intense and genuine.  

“What have I told you about lying to me, boy?” Johnny asked, patting Mike’s cheek again.

Johnny straddled Mike, making the slender man grunt under the weight of John’s massive body. Johnny fisted Mike’s hair and forced his head back, a dark smirk playing on his lips as he studied his victim. He turned around, casting a short glance at Rick.

“You just lie there and look pretty, boy. I’ll get to you shortly,” he said to Rick with a crooked smile. Rick’s belly burned with the fire of arousal under that gaze.

“You have no right to hold us!” Rick spoke up, his voice sure and steady. He surprised himself with the words, but went on, “I know my rights! Unfortunately for you we are in a land that recognizes and guarantees human rights.”

Johnny laughed loud, deranged laughter.

“You don’t actually think that any of our glorious countries take the Geneva Convention seriously, do you?” He stood up from Mike’s lap, and Rick could see the younger man looking relieved. Johnny walked closer to Rick and cupped his chin between his callused fingers. “It’s all for the general public’s benefit, beautiful boy.” The caress to Rick’s cheek was soft, yet anything but warm and gentle. “I’m going to make you scream so beautifully. In fact I think I’m more interested in your screams than anything you have to tell me. But we’ll come to that later.” Johnny fisted Rick’s hair and jerked it so hard that it felt like his scalp would detach itself from his skull. He was shoved back down and a vicious kick was aimed at his feet. “Stand up one more time and I’ll break your legs,” John said casually, turning to look at Mike. Before John could take a step to the other man, he turned back around and crouched down in front of a huddled Rick. His hand rested against Rick’s leg and he smiled at him. “You know, breaking your legs may not be such a bad idea. You have run for long enough as it is. It would be wise to take measures to prevent any such turn of events in the future.” The pressure on Rick’s leg increased. It felt like his leg was being squeezed in a vice. It grew rapidly from bruising to bone crashing and Rick started to keen quietly, but steadily, until the pain built high enough to make him yell.

“Let him be, you big bully!” Mike called out from his chair. Johnny’s reaction was so blindingly fast that it made both the boys shriek with surprise and fright.

Johnny reached Mike in one stride. In a nanosecond he had one of Mike’s feet propped against his shoulder, making the boy’s legs split at an awkwardly wide angle. Mike cried out, this time from the pain of being split so widely. John’s hand came down on the inside of Mike’s thigh with almost all of the force Johnny was capable of. Rick knew from experience it would bruise –an ugly, large, black bruise. He heard Mike’s yelp and he saw Mike’s eyes grow comically large at the realization of Johnny’s fierce strength. Mike visibly flinched when John’s hand next touched his cheek, gently tapping at it before rising in the air for a strike. Mike sank back into the chair and huddled against its back, trying to hide his face against his chest. Rick could relate. After experiencing John’s strength, it was not difficult to realize a full forced slap from him could very well take one’s head off one’s shoulders. John’s hand instead descended slowly and grabbed Mike by his hair once more.

“There is hardly anything more pleasurable than a flinching beautiful boy, who knows he’s going to be singing for me in a short time.” John leered at Mike, bending down to whisper the words almost into his face.

John let go of Mike and went to the desk. A big duffle bag was on it. He unzipped it and started to take out implements. Several knives, of different sizes and shapes were laid down on the table. A white sheet followed and soon after a thin cane made an appearance.

“Ready to talk yet?” John smiled sweetly at the two boys and walked to the fireplace where a roaring blaze popped and crackled behind the grate. He placed a couple of the knives in the glowing coals and studied his surroundings. “Isn’t this nice?” he said, looking around the luxurious room.

“What? Couldn’t find a dungeon?” Mike spoke up, his eyes sparkling with challenge.

“A dungeon?” Johnny asked sarcastically. “My brave little piglet,” he drawled, walking closer to Mike and snatching a small, thin knife from the fireplace. “Now, why would I need a dungeon? Dungeons are for amateurs. I don’t need to create the mood with surroundings. I can get the desired effect anywhere. In fact,” he said, sitting back down on Mike’s knees, “one of my favorite memories is related to an interrogation I conducted in the Presidential suite of Ritz. Very nice indeed. After all we all strive to have a comfortable workplace. Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, looking directly at Mike. “Ah, speaking of eye,” he said, smiling at his own joke. “Do you know with a gentle touch of this—” He held the heated tip of the knife close to Mike’s eye, keeping his head immobile with his other hand. “–and your eye will pop like a popcorn?”

Mike was breathing shallowly: his body was covered in thin layer of sweat. Rick could feel his own body shaking with nervous tremors of arousal mixed with intense anticipation. 

“But it would be a pity to destroy those beautiful eyes of yours,” Johnny said, pulling the knife away. “I’m a reasonable man I know valuable merchandise when I see it. You boys will do very fine in mine and Commander Brown’s beds, once I’m done here. He will be here shortly. He enjoys listening to pretty boys scream as much as I do.”

Rick chose that moment to start inching toward the table. If he could get his hands on one of the knives... But he didn’t of course. The kick to his stomach made him howl and curl into himself.

“Very bad puppy,” Johnny said, pulling Rick back against the wall, which put him right in front of Mike. “It looks like this one is impatient for my attention, so you will have to wait, little piglet,” Johnny said to Mike.

Strong hands grabbed Rick’s shirt and tore it into shreds. The same fate met his pants and he was completely naked. Johnny pushed him belly down on the floor and forced his knees open, bending them toward his sides. He pulled the white sheet over Rick.

“Don’t say I’m not preoccupied about your modesty,” he mocked Rick as he arranged the sheet around his body.

Rick’s eyes locked with Mike’s. Mike’s pupils were dilated, gaze intense. His body was tense with anticipation, with sweat accumulating over his upper lip and his brow. From somewhere afar, Rick heard the door open.

“Ah, Commander,” Johnny said joyously. “Right on time.”

Rick could see Milton’s figure appear in his visual field, leaning against the wall, not far from where Mike was sitting. Rick lay still, not needing to look at Johnny to know that he went for the cane that was lying on the table. It soon swished in the air and a second later hit Rick on the buttocks. The pain almost felt like a relief to him; like something he had been craving for too long. The shivers racking his body intensified and it was a fight not to twitch visibly.  

The beating that followed was intense and left Rick crying and screaming. His throat was raw, making his screams come out raspy and hoarse. Mike was fighting against his bindings. Two very precisely placed stripes were laid against Mike’s buttocks. Mike’s screech of shock, and the feeling of something wet running down Rick’s thighs registered with Rick simultaneously. Rick shrieked and shot up. His eye caught the red on the white sheet and he started crying hysterically.

Johnny gathered Rick in his arms, soothing him. “It’s not real, angel. It’s not blood.” Rick couldn’t comprehend the words. All he could feel was the burning pain on his buttock and the need to feel Johnny inside him. He hung tightly to Johnny’s neck, refusing to let go, not caring that he probably had once more ruined the other’s fun.   

****

“Kathmandu,” Mike said calmly. Milton’s reaction was instantaneous. Mike was freed from his bindings and guided to his feet. “I’m OK. Don’t fuss. I safeworded for Rick. He’s over his head. I’m fine.”

Milton stroked his fingers through Mike’s short hair. “Are you sure? That was an intense scene.”

“Milton, I’m not an innocent. I play with you.” Mike stepped away from Milton and started to put the various tools away. “I know you let me down gently. I know you’re obsessive about the aftercare. I appreciate it, but I’m OK. Take care of Rick.” 

Milton glanced over at Rick and John. Rick was wrapped tightly in John’s arms and they were both heading for the door. “John has it.”

Mike ran his finger down a knife as he put it back in a duffel bag. “That was an interesting twist. We’ve never used knives.”

Milton moved to Mike’s side and cupped the back of Mike’s neck. “You don’t have to be tough here. I don’t expect you to be tough.”

Mike groaned and twisted in Milton’s grip, so he could look at Milton. “I’m not faking it here. The scene was fun, but it wasn’t fun with a terrified player. Rick is John’s partner. He shouldn’t have been that frightened.”

Milton knelt and poked the fire with the poker. The top log split and sparks exploded with a large pop. “You are on the adventurous side. Rick is still learning.”

“Rick’s deranged. John was holding a knife in front of my face and threatening to poke my eye out. Now come on. He may be muscle bound and run around with whackos with machine guns in some far off jungle, but anyone with a half a brain knows that Gordon would kill anyone and everyone who harmed one of his boys, and Gordon has the means and the money to do it. I’ve seen some of the dudes who do security. Those guys are scary, for real scary, not the play.” Mike shoved his hand in his pocket and leaned against the table. “They’ve taken people out haven’t they?”

“There are some things I choose not to know,” Milton said slowly, standing up. 

“Sergei Platnov, Hans Brikner , and Dick Armstrong all died in the last two weeks. I assume the rumors were true.”

“I suspect so,” Milton said carefully. “There are always people who will prey on the weak.”

“There are not always people who prey on little boys and kill them in some sick parody of sadomasochism. Financially they were in the same circles as Gordon and Landon. Maybe one of them was stupid enough not to realize the dangers of revealing themselves to Gordon and Landon; after all it’s no secret that they play hard.”

“Play.”

“Trust me, I know the difference,” Mike said with an easy grin. “I trust you. It’s play. I was young and stupid once; I’m not anymore. I knew if John had your stamp of approval that I was absolutely safe with him.”

“It’s never absolutely safe.”

“Walking down the stairs isn’t either.” Mike ran his fingers through his hair, teasing it into spikes that went with his earrings and irritated Milton.

“What we do is far more dangerous than the average staircase.”

“Not with you.”

“My sainthood is overrated.”

“It’s not and you know it.” Mike stepped toward Milton and impulsively kissed his cheek. He usually always let Milton lead, but Milton looked tired and deflated, the lines around his eyes deeper than Mike remembered. “Go find Austin; he’ll remind you how swell you are.”

“Good for the ego and terrifying for the conscience.”

“Milton!” Mike studied Milton for a long minute. “Are you OK? It’s hard for a dominant when a scene falls apart.”

“Fine,” Milton said briskly.

“I know there was a cane in all this stuff. Should I find Gordon?”

“The man you accused of murdering three people.”

“Killing plague bearing monsters isn’t murder.” Mike’s voice dropped. “I found some of the pictures on the internet. A car crash, a sailing accident, and falling out a window was way too kind.”

“We don’t know they were involved.”

“Right,” Mike said sarcastically. “Adam was in one of the pictures with the surviving boys.”

“Adam is a world renowned expert on trauma victims.” 

“He’s also a Green Mountain Boy dominant. Who got him halfway around the world so fast?”

“The Green Mountain Boys did that. I authorized the money and any other assistance from our special fund. We do have inside channels, and we received the news before it hit the media.”

“John was gone on a mission,” Mike mused silently.

“He is not in our employ,” Milton stated categorically. 

“Not in yours, but in G&L’s.”

“I don’t think so,” Milton said softly and ran his hand down his beard. Milton leaned against the mantle, the shadow of the fire dancing on his back. “There are things I don’t ask about Gordon. I don’t believe he’d hire an assassin, at least not directly. Do I think G&L money found its way magically into the right hands? Yes. You don’t read The Journal, but G&L released the CEO for European Operations with no financial compensation. It’s unheard of to kick someone to the street at that level with nothing. Most high ranking CEOs could bankrupt an entire operation and still have a comfortable nest egg. I looked up the man’s bio. He came to G&L in a merger. I think he was the source of the information. Gordon was in Europe six weeks ago. The timing fits.”

“Jesus,” Mike swore. “I was half blowing smoke.”

“I wasn’t,” Milton said. “I know Gordon, and I’d trust him with my life. I’d trust him with your lives, but I also know he’ll use power in ways I wouldn’t. I live in a different world, grew up in a very different family. I believe in different ideals. For me the ends never justify the means. For Gordon, it is different.”

“He saved a half dozen if it were him, including Platnov’s own son.”

Milton stared into the fire and shook his head. “I can’t believe his own son.”

“Some people are sick.” Mike leaned into Milton, expecting Milton’s automatic and reassuring touch. Warm hands kneaded Mike’s shoulders. Mike leaned harder into Milton and sighed. “I...I used to think I was sick for wanting this. Not sick like those assholes. They don’t qualify as humans, but broken somehow. I want to be hurt; I want to be scared. My fantasies are dark and horrible.”

“No fantasy is dark or horrible.” Milton’s voice was against Mike’s ear. “No fantasy is more right or more correct than the next. It’s when it steps out of fantasy that it becomes horribly wrong.”

“I know. You gave me that.” Mike caught one of Milton’s hands and stilled it. “You gave me the freedom to enjoy myself. Thank you.” Mike’s voice was thick and sounded strange to his ears.

“You’re welcome,” Milton said gently.

“I safeworded because Rick wasn’t seeing it as fantasy. I wasn’t frightened, not for real, but he was. It’s not right then. Even if John had only been spanking Rick with his hand, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“No, it wouldn’t have,” Milton agreed.

“John had already seen it. He loves his boy.”

“Yes, he does.”

Mike smiled to himself. “So even dominants who exercise at midnight in freezing temperatures can be good and safe?”

“Brat.” Mike heard the smile in Milton’s voice and dodged the light slap.

*****

Johnny dropped the shaking bundle in his arms on the large bed and knelt by its side.

Rick’s braid was a complete mess, long strands of hair sticking out of it in all directions, covering his beautiful face. Johnny stroked the hair away and planted a gentle kiss to Rick’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” His boy’s voice was hoarse and barely audible, adding to John’s already raging guilt. 

“What the hell are you sorry about?” Johnny asked in a low voice, pushing Rick onto his belly and putting an ice-pack on his bruised bottom. 

Rick hissed and jerked. The stripes really did look painful. Johnny cursed himself silently. Did he use more force than usual? He had though he was hitting with his usual force, but the deep purple told another story. There was even a slight laceration to the skin, and it made Johnny want to hit his head against the wall. There was a chance that the white sheet, with which he’d covered Rick, had thrown his estimations off, but a piece of cloth wasn’t supposed to do that. After all he wasn’t hitting over a cloth for the first time. It was either him or simply Rick’s body was reacting differently. The human body was an interesting instrument; it tended to react differently under roughly the same circumstances based on the person’s mindset. It didn’t exonerate John, though. In fact, if anything, it accused him even more. He was supposed to know what he was doing. He was supposed to be able to read Rick, instead he had slammed him down and dragged him kicking and screaming through a scene and that after his boy had been through hell all day, leaving him exhausted both physically and mentally.  

“I screwed it up again,” Rick moaned, pushing his head deeper into the pillow. 

For a second Johnny was so engrossed in his own thoughts he didn’t understand what Rick was saying. Then, he realized it was an answer to his earlier question. 

“Stop it, angel! It was my fault, not yours,” Johnny cut in with vehemence.

“Why?” Rick turned his head toward Johnny and fixed him with his stare, his eyes sparkling like twin gems. “Because you are the dominant? I’m not brain-dead, nor am I a damsel in distress out of a medieval novel.” Rick’s anger was practically rolling off him. 

“Stop it,” John repeated, enunciating each word.

“Fuck this! I will never be good at this.” Rick banged his head against the soft pillow and gathered it around his head, hiding in it completely. “I can’t be the perfect, gentle submissive like Gregory. I can’t be the lunatic submissive like Mike. Why in the hell are you torturing yourself with me?” He asked, looking at Johnny once more. 

“Stop that Rick, or I’ll swear I’ll smack your bottom despite the fact that it’s already swollen to twice its size,” Johnny growled at the boy.

“Go ahead,” Rick said easily. “Oh, sorry, forgot. Now you’re going to be afraid to even touch me in case I’ll crumble like a hysterical and pathetic imbecile that I am.” John’s hand descended on Rick’s rump at that, and Rick practically levitated off the bed. “Awww,” he yelped and started to cry again. 

Johnny felt his eyes filling with tears and felt like crying himself, but he knew it would freak Rick out. He bent down and bestowed gentle kisses to Rick’s back and neck until he felt able to talk again without chocking. 

“Ricky, I’m sorry, this was my fault.” John hurried to press his finger to Rick’s lips who turned his head to him to protest again. “Rick, I’m the dominant. No, being the submissive doesn’t make you brain-dead,” he said, alluding to Rick’s earlier outburst, “but it makes me more responsible for the scene and for your welfare during it. I’m supposed to be experienced at this and you’re not. That makes me even more responsible.” Johnny paused for a while, hanging his head down and studying the lush carpet which squashed under his weight. “I was wrong to be so sure of myself. I know that you are still learning and Mike–” Johnny stopped once more, searching for right words. He looked at Rick who was staring right back at him, green orbs still filled with tears, making him look so beautiful and vulnerable that Johnny wanted to tear his own throat out. 

“Mike is tough,” Rick supplied, lowering his eyes.

“Mike is experienced,” Johnny corrected, pushing Rick’s chin up with his finger. “Rick he’s lived in the lifestyle, with its different variations for his entire adult life. You are barely starting to accept you belong to it. I had no business putting two players on such different levels in the same scene when I was the only dominant. I pushed the scene to an intensity where it would accommodate Mike and I almost burned my own boy. It’s unacceptable.” The words left his throat as heart wrenching moans, John’s throat tightening around them. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, stroking Rick’s face. “I should have seen your confusion and struggle sooner.” 

“But it wasn’t like that. I don’t even know what happened. I liked it. I liked Mike there. The look on his face, his reactions to you,” Rick paused, looking around aimlessly. “It’s like when you have this great piece of art and you enjoy seeing people drool over it. I felt the same way,” Rick confessed quietly. “It was intense and frightening. You were so great. It was like you were glowing with the dark force that you usually hide and you finally had someone to share it with. I wanted to yell ‘he’s mine’ and beat my chest. And when you turned your attention to me, it was like being under the direct rays of sun, almost burning.” Rick stopped talking for a few seconds, leaning forward to put a soft kiss on John’s lips. “It was a bit hard to figure out what was expected of me, what I should do, but then it was like the fantasy became reality and I just flew with it and all of a sudden it was too much. I’m not afraid of blood. I don’t know what happened.” 

Johnny climbed onto the bed and pulled Rick into his arms. 

“It was my job to see that, to understand that, not yours.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Rick huffed, punching him slightly. “I freaked out, it wasn’t your fault!”

“Yes, it was,” Johnny said softly, his voice wistful.  

“Fine, then have Milton whip you,” Rick said with exasperation.    

“Whipping is a treat; it’s not an atonement.” Johnny looked down at Rick. He was clearly exhausted, his eyes fighting the need to close. “Sleep, angel,” John said softly. 

“Will you tell Mike, I’m sorry?” Rick asked, stifling a yawn. 

Johnny played with Rick’s locks until his body relaxed and his breathing slowed down, signaling his slip into a deep sleep.

Arranging Rick comfortably in the bed and pulling the covers over him, Johnny walked downstairs. It was time to face the music. 

He tapped the door gently, before pushing it open. Milton was behind his desk, but he wasn’t working. His mind was somewhere else and it wasn’t hard for Johnny to figure out where. He was sure the perfect GMB dominants didn’t see such a monumental failure of a scene every day. The man looked tired and tense, although Johnny was sure it was nothing compared to how he looked. 

“Go ahead, tell me what an idiot I am. You trusted me with your boy and I blew it,” John said softly without walking into the room or checking to make sure they were alone and that one of Milton’s numerous submissives wasn’t in the room with him.  

“John,” Milton said softly. “Do you know about this?” Milton rotated his laptop so it was facing away from him.

John moved close to the desk and peered at the screen. John wasn’t naive or innocent. He’d been in combat zones, but he recoiled at the image on the screen. “Shit! That’s not staged?” John’s eye was too experienced not to notice the strange grayness to the skin, the slackness to the jaw, and the fixed stare. That was a picture of a corpse, a young boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, mutilated in the most horrible ways.

“Evidence,” Milton said grimly.

John raked his fingers through his short hair. “You aren’t suggesting--”

“God, no! The scene went bad. It’s not the end of the world. Mike reminded me of that quite succinctly, and I’m sure Gordon will indulge my guilt complex if I don’t get a handle on it. Mike’s fine. He safeworded because he thought Rick was over his head.”

“Rick was. That was my fault.”

“No.” Milton shook his head sharply. “It was my fault also. I know Mike plays on the edge. I usually won’t do more than a little slap and tickle with him if I don’t have another senior player present to monitor the situation, to be outside of the scene and watching both our reactions. I left you alone with Mike and with your own boy to watch also. That was my error. I owe both you and your boy an apology.”

“No, I am a responsible dominant. I knew the risks. I am the guilty party. I know about true darkness.” John’s eyes flicked back to the screen.

“Unspeakable, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” John said slowly, keeping a tight check on his emotions. Wanton cruelty made him feel murderous inside. He’d seen far more than any man should see, and there seemed to be no end to human creativity as far as cruelty and mass murder. “I hope they got the perpetrators.”

“They all mysteriously died in the last two weeks, a string of accidents. The odds of it being merely coincidence, I believe, are incalculable.”

“Sometimes the good guys win.”

“Can a good guy murder?”

John studied Milton: the brown eyes hooded behind his glasses, the creases along the forehead, the tight set of his jaw. “Gordon?”

“Probably.”

“He should get a medal.”

“Vigilante justice. No fair trial by their peers. What would Rick, as the lawyer, say?”

“Sometimes the world is not black and white.” John propped his hip against the desk and shut the lid on the laptop. “I would have killed those men with pleasure.”

“Did you?”

“No, I was on a mission for my government, chasing a supposed potential nuclear dirty bomb. It was a hoax. I suspect her majesty’s government wanted the men taken out for reasons they will never share with me, but it’s done.” John shrugged. “I will deny ever having this conversation with you.”

“Mike thought you might have.”

John’s eyebrows rose. “Do you always debrief after a failed scene by discussing unspeakable horrors and the potential that a playmate might be a paid assassin?”

“No.” Milton smiled grimly. “It wasn’t my choice of conversation. I wasn’t even aware that Mike was following the story. He’s never showed much interest in the news or events across the ocean. I was aware of it. The Green Mountain Boys sent a specialist to help the surviving boys and have pledged assistance in any other way that we can provide.”

“Your assistance doesn’t include selective elimination of hostile targets?”

“No,” Milton said sharply. 

“It bothers you that Gordon and Landon, men whom you love, probably had a hand in removing that filth from this planet?”

“The ends never justify the means.”

“You are an idealist, a born and bred American Yankee. You believe in your own myths.”

“I am well aware of our frequent shortcomings, after all I am a member of the academic elite, a group considered by some to hate this country. I do believe in our ideals; I do believe in the rule of law.”

“Those men were above the law. They had power and money, just as Gordon and Landon have, just as you will inherit. Do you not think that you haven’t benefited from that power and money behind the scenes? Even here, your lifestyle isn’t exactly routine. Sure this isn’t Texas where you’d be shipped to the nearest sanatorium, but you have five submissives; Austin is less than half your age. You work among what many would call vulnerable young people. Without the might of G&L, you wouldn’t hold your current job. You wouldn’t have been arrested, or deported, or beaten, but you have been well protected.”

“I don’t like to think about it.” Milton traced his fingers across the scattered papers on his desk. “I like to believe that society has evolved.”

“It has. We have more sophisticated ways to kill each other.” John smiled and impulsively reached across the desk and squeezed Milton’s shoulder. “You’re too good of man for the world you live in, but truly society has made advances. It’s not legal to beat your wife anymore or sell her for a few chickens. We’re not hung because we prefer men. I count that as an advancement.”

“Some people would still like to do both.”

“And it’s for us good guys to stop it.” John smiled again. “I guess a failed scene is nothing in the order of evils in the world. Odd way of bringing it into perspective, but it worked.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“You should take credit for your successes.” John scanned the room quickly, looking for a brandy decanter or anything stiff to drink. He suddenly badly wanted a drink and not the pitcher of water on the desk. “We need a drink. Celebrate the fact that we only fucked up a scene instead of the world.”

“It’s kept in the kitchen,” Milton said dully.

“Milton.” John studied the man in front of him. John had been racked by guilt; he fought demons that were sometimes overwhelming, but Milton’s conversation had helped. It was nothing but a fucked up scene. Rick wasn’t damaged, not for real, and it sounded as if Mike had come out of the whole fiasco fine, but Milton was drowning in some kind of bizarre self-doubt. Milton was a good dominant and a very good man. This self-doubt and anguish were painful to watch. “The world hasn’t come to an end. We still have boys who love us and who are willing to forgive our stupidity. We also have boys who aren’t victims. Your Mike knows exactly what he wants. My Rick is more confused, but sometimes even screw-ups help make things clearer. Get over yourself.”

“That sounds like Ryan.” Milton smiled and seemed to shake himself. “I suffer from excess intensity.”

“You want to do right. That’s not a fault.”

“As do you. I believe you called yourself an idiot over the failed scene.”

“Yes, I was an idiot. I’ll have to put it in the lessons of never do again.”

“You don’t forgive yourself that easily,” Milton said perceptively.

“I don’t, but I think I need to learn. We talk about trust, and we never trust ourselves. Is that healthy?”

“Power corrupts and we hold power. Skepticism about our own goodness is needed. We could harm. We could kill.” Milton’s eyes flicked toward the shut computer.

“That wasn’t dominance. That was pure evil. Being a sociopath and being a dominant are not related, and you damn well know it. And as far as Gordon being involved in cleaning up the world from those lifeforms masquerading as humans, it should be applauded. Wouldn’t you have applauded someone murdering Hitler or Stalin? You know the history. You know how many they killed.”

“History is a culmination of events. The times were right for such men. Who says that Trotsky or Kirov or Bukharin wouldn’t have been worse?”

“I don’t think that would have been possible, but even so the murder of Stalin would hardly have been murder.”

“I--”

“It’s not your way. You’ll inherit all this, but it doesn’t mean you must continue Gordon’s policies exactly. If he killed those assholes, I applaud the policy, but if your can’t, there are other ways. The pictures could have been leaked to the press and police. Money could have been lavished on the right people to guarantee some action eventually. They could have been squeezed dry financially. That will be your style. Use your rule of law with a little help from power and wealth and a strong intellect. You have to fight with the tools that work for you. Now back to today’s subject,” John said, forcing his mind back to Rick and his own stupidity, “I am sorry about it. I did screw up.”

“Is Rick all right?”

“He seems to be--better than I am.”

“Same with Mike. I’d say we got away with it. As you said earlier, we just shouldn’t repeat the folly.” Milton stood up. “I think I’d like that drink now too.”