Sun and Surf

Sun and Surf

“Milton, please can I?”

Somehow Milton had missed a critical special feature in the guide book; this stretch of beach was frequented by nudists. He studiously kept his eyes on the fishing pole while his mind kept playing over the insanity of nude fishing. A couple, the wife with gray hair winding around her face in the light breeze and the husband with almost no hair, were ambling along the wave line picking up shells and tossing them back into the water.

“Please.” Austin was already pulling his shirt over his head.

“Boy,” Milton growled, catching Austin’s wrist in a tight grip.

“I don’t see a sign that says no shirt, no service.”

With no regard to Austin’s privacy, Milton landed his hand hard across Austin’s rump. Austin’s thin shorts would provide little protection, and in the quiet of the beach the noise was sharp and deafening.

“Milton.”

Milton gritted his teeth against the whine. This was one of those times that Austin reminded everybody that he was still very young. “Boy, present.” Milton snapped. It was time to remind Austin that he didn’t whine and moan at his dominant without consequences.

Austin struggled into position, his shoulders square, his wrists crossed behind him. His eyes were properly lowered to the ground, but Milton could see both anger and perhaps embarrassment hovering behind those lowered lashes.

Milton ran his finger down Austin’s bare neck. He spread his left hand and caressed Austin’s naked abdomen. “So you want to show everything?”

“Yes, sir.” Austin swallowed hard; most of his early bravado gone. This was a sweet boy, an obedient submissive. Only he was young and sometimes didn’t think.

“Do you have permission to share with the world what is mine?”

“No, sir.” Austin’s voice was soft now, deferential; he was a boy who hadn’t been looking for trouble.

“You didn’t think, did you?” Milton asked, keeping his voice gentle. Austin was a wonderful submissive, but he was still a long way from maturity. Milton wouldn’t crucify him for this.

“No, sir.” Austin hesitated and licked his lips. “Are you going to punish me?”

Milton tangled his fingers in Austin’s hair and forced his boy’s eyes up. “Should I?”

“Probably,” Austin said after a long hesitation, “but I’d rather you didn’t.”

Milton smiled at Austin. It wasn’t his nicest smile; it had a touch of calculating cruelty, and he saw the look register on Austin, the slight flush of his cheeks and the quick catch of his breath.

Milton reached for the edge of his own shirt. It was ragged and twice rescued from the trash in Tilden’s attempts to clean the closet. Milton tore a thin strip of cloth off the bottom and tied it around Austin’s neck.

“Strip, boy.”

Austin’s hand went to the thin strip of cloth. He touched it almost reverently, and his eyes shown too brightly in the sun.

Milton caught Austin’s shoulder and pulled him roughly toward his chest. “I wasn’t about to let you walk about for all to see and admire without at least some small mark on my property. You are far too valuable. Don’t forget that. Now I believe I gave an order.”

Austin scrambled out of his shorts and boxers. His skin was northern pale against the sun and the sea, and his cheeks were a lovely red. Naked at his dominant’s order wasn’t as easy as the innocent nudity of the wandering tourists.

“Thirty minutes. I don’t want all your important bits burnt to a crisp. Now go play. I want to watch my boy frolicking in the surf and the sand the way nature intended. My beautiful boy playing for my eyes alone.”

“Milton…” Austin’s fingers traced the strip of cloth again.

“When you’re ready.” Milton smiled and kissed Austin’s forehead. “I know it feels like forever, but you, my boy, are very good at wearing down my defenses. Now go play before I give you a red ass you can’t hide.”

“Yes, sir.” Austin skipped toward the water.

Dearest Blade

Dearest Blade

"Blade, what were you doing? Your behavior wasn't worthy of a toddler."

Blade eyes roamed around Ryan's small office. The back wall housed two framed posters, one of the New York skyline and the other a splash of color from MOMA. The narrow bookcase held a jumble of books covering the various courses Ryan had taught and a few pictures of Ryan and Blade together, both smiling and leaning into each other. Ryan was now on semi-permanent loan to the English department after two faculty illnesses. He rated an office because of his other title; he handled underclassmen discipline. He was far less hated than the curmudgeon he’d replaced, but Blade had heard the murmured comments. Stay out of his office was the take home point. 

"He made me stand and wait fifteen minutes before he even looked up from his book."

"He sat with me at lunch for a week for fighting in the cafeteria. Talk about embarrassing."

"At least he didn't suspend you, dude. He could have."

"He caught Danny with something ugly. It's all top secret." The boy had laughed and made air quotes around top secret. "He dragged Danny around at his heels for three days. Talk about mortifying."

Blade stifled a groan. What was Ryan going to do to him? Fury burned off his eyes, glacial blueness that promised horrors ahead. Blade could see the headline now.Teacher kills fellow faculty member for being disruptive at a meeting.

"Ryan," Blade whined. "It was boring."

"Don't." The single word was a blaze of heat and anger.

Great, the silent treatment. It had been boring. The idiot from math wouldn't shut up about the printers jamming. Take out the cartridge and un-jam it. How tough could it be? It wasn't worth a thirty minute diatribe in his wheedling voice while he cracked his knuckles every two minutes. Spilling the coffee had been an accident.

"Ryan," Blade tried again.

"Be quiet." Ryan bent his head to his computer, typing furiously, the keys nearly bouncing in agony.

Blade turned and started to straddle the one guest chair. He wasn't going to stand here as if he were a mannequin in the men's department.

"I didn't give you permission to sit."

"You don't treat your students this badly."

Ryan looked up; it had been better when he was staring at the computer. His expression made Blade's knees shake and his stomach twist in agony.

"The students do not spill hot coffee on our colleagues."

"I didn't spill it. You caught the cup."

"Faculty meetings aren't athletic events."

"You mean I'm not going to get the gold medal in tedium."

"Blade, I'm ashamed and embarrassed. You're my partner. You're a professional member of this faculty; you are not a teenager trapped by raging hormones. Here." Ryan tossed a thick paperback to Blade. "Read it and write a 3,000 word essay. You have until Friday."

"Watership Down. It's about rabbits. It goes on forever."

"I see you're familiar with it."

"Is this how you treat your students?" Blade asked, thumbing through the book. Rabbits. Hundreds of pages. Never.

"It depends on their crime. As they are younger, I usually choose shorter and more interesting reading material. Now I would suggest you get started. You have a lot of reading."

"You can't be serious. I have midterms to grade. We don't do discipline."

"You dared me in public. What did you think I was going to do?" Ryan propped his chin on his hand and stared across the metal desk at Blade. 

"You could spank me."

"Reward you for behaving like a juvenile delinquent," Ryan said with disbelief. "Go read. I'm really too angry and amazed to have this discussion with you. If you were trying to negotiate some new facet of our relationship, in public was not the place to do it."

****

Ryan entered their dormitory apartment with a clatter that indicated he was carrying some sort of sports equipment. From the sofa, Blade could smell the sweat of a hard workout. Ryan's shirt was damp and crumpled and his blond hair hung limp over his eyes. The kiss was perfunctory, but the earlier grimness in the eyes was replaced with wry amusement.

"You stink."

"Come shower with me."

"Are you still mad?"

"No, I teach adolescents; I'm married to you. I don't have the luxury of staying angry. I would be at a perpetual boil--bad for the health."

"Do I still have to read this?" Blade held up the copy of Watership Down.

"Yes. Shower."

The shower was ordinary, getting wet and using shampoo. Ryan didn't even run his hand down Blade's chest and tweak the gold nipple rings. Ryan ruffled Blade's hair with a towel. Excitement. Move over suburban duo, here comes Blade and Ryan. 

"Living room," Ryan said as he pulled his shirt over his head. 

Blade grabbed a soda and curled up on the sofa. He flicked on the TV, only to have Ryan grab the remote and turn it off.

"Put the soda away."

"You don't organize what I eat." Blade took a long swallow and set the can on the secondhand coffee table.

"Put it in the refrigerator. Now, boy."

"Ryan."

"Now."

Blade picked up the can and stomped to the refrigerator. "Happy? I thought you said you weren't angry anymore?"

"I'm not."

"You could've fooled me."

"Sit." Ryan snapped his fingers and pointed at the sofa.

"Sit. Stand. Fetch. You could get a dog. Dogs are known for their obedience."

"Sit, Blade. We need to talk." Ryan dropped onto their beanbag chair, straddling its awkward bulk with his long legs. Ryan's eyes were steady and far too kind. The explosiveness of earlier was gone.

Blade flopped back down onto the sofa and pulled his knees up. "What's up?" Blade tried for a flippant voice, but Ryan's gaze was unnerving. Blade had understood the pissed off glare earlier, but steady concern... Blade bit his lower lip and hugged his knees tighter.

"Do you want something deeper?"

What? What was Ryan talking about? Blade had been bored and fed up. He'd read the damn novel about the rabbits.

"Do we need to renegotiate? I know your brother's situation is different now. Is that what you want?"

"No," Blade shouted and popped off the sofa, closing the distance to Ryan in two hurried steps. He draped his arms over Ryan's solid back, feeling the ripple of the muscles under the thin shirt. "You don't want to be master. I see you watch Milton with Sheldon. It makes you uneasy."

Ryan caught Blade's hand and fingered it gently. "I love you. If you need a master, I'll manage. If you need more from me..."

"No." Blade pressed his body against Ryan and rested his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "I was being stupid today. It was nothing more than that. Exasperated, bored, stupid, frustrated. Puffin gets on my every nerve."

"His name is Joe Buffin; you shouldn't use the students' nickname."

"Puffin fits him better. He's all puffed up. The man is awful."

"He's our colleague. Trying to burn him with hot liquids is not appropriate punishment for being boring."

"It was tepid."

"You know what I mean."

"It was stupid. I already said that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it. Can we be done with this? I'll read your stupid book."

"Don't shout at me, boy." Ryan pulled Blade to the front of the chair and trapped Blade's wrists in one of his giant hands.

Blade bowed his head and spread his feet; the response was automatic. This was Ryan being the dominant. "Yes, Ryan."

"Good boy." Ryan's fingers stroked Blade's cheek. "My stressed boy. You need to go down."

Maybe it was a statement; maybe it was a question. Blade nodded anyhow. He breathed in great lungfuls of Ryan. Blade's knees swayed as Ryan continued to stroke his cheek. "Please."

"We can't do it here. We'll be overheard."

"I don't care. This isn't fair." Blade jerked out of Ryan's grip and threw his body across the floor to the sofa. "Fuck it!" Blade hurled the history text across the room. It was heavy. Fortunately his aim was off, or Ryan would have been sporting a large lump on his head. Blade finished up the history text chucking by bursting into tears.

Blade didn’t know how long he cried, but his cheeks were chafed, and his eyes were sore as the sobs slowed to painful hiccups. Ryan's arms were strong and powerful. The words being whispered in Blade's ear were nonsense, but reassuring in their romantic ridiculousness. 

"Are you back with me?" Ryan kissed Blade's wet cheek. 

"Sorry."

"Hey." Ryan stroked his fingers through Blade's hair. "Are you OK now?"

"I think so," Blade said in a shaky voice. "Meltdown city."

"Hmm. When's the last time I beat you? It's been three weeks, hasn't it?"

"We were supposed to have last weekend." Blade burrowed deeper in Ryan's arms. "I'm a flipping wreck because I didn't get beat. What kind of man am I?"

"You're my boy, and I've been neglecting my boy."

"It's not like you can tie me to a cross and beat me with a bunch of fourteen-year-olds listening in."

"No, but I can be creative." Blade could hear the laughter in Ryan's voice. Ryan tightened his arm around Blade's waist and fingered combed his hair. "I have some lovely cruel stuff that doesn't make noise: cock cages, massive butt plugs, nipple clamps, little clothes pins to put all over your beautiful body. Being silent through all this torture will be excellent discipline."

"Ryan," Blade moaned. "Don't tease me."

"You deserve to be teased."

"I deserve to be beat silly. I've been an ass all day."

"Sit up for me." Ryan pulled Blade into position, straddling Ryan’s legs with Blade's back pressed to Ryan’s chest. "Blade," Ryan said gently, "I haven't been the boss in your every day life. I don't read that as a part of your submission. Has this changed?"

Blade leaned against Ryan, savoring the warmth and solidness of Ryan's chest. Milton had bled his dominance over into Blade's daily life. Blade had been punished for poor schoolwork or insane behavior. It had been OK, but it wasn't what he had with Ryan. Milton hadn't been his romantic partner, his lover. Milton had taught him much, not only about submission, but about life. He’d been the solid uncle or friend, struggling in the substitute role; he hadn’t been Ryan.

"Blade, this isn't a conversation I'll let you avoid. I've punished you before. You are my submissive, and it's my right, but punishment has been to drive you deeper into your role as a submissive or to reestablish our commitments together. I've not punished you for being late to work or for your relationships with our professional colleagues or for living on microwave popcorn and Coke."

"You put real food in front of me; you drag me out to exercise."

"I do, but so would any responsible husband. I don't punish you; I nag at you."

"You're good at nagging."

"You give me plenty of practice." Ryan dropped a fond kiss on Blade's head. "So do I need to do something different?"

Blade sighed and tried to twist around to snuggled into Ryan's chest. He hated this part, the laying down of the rules and parameters. He liked to pretend it was spontaneous, that the fantasy was far more real than either of them would consider safe. "I didn't like it when you told me to put the Coke away."

"I know you didn't." Ryan didn't say more, but unsaid words hovered in the air between them.

"You wouldn't let me eat popcorn and drink Coke?"

"Not every day. It would fall under my control and be dependent on my whims."

"I wouldn't like that." Blade hesitated and wrapped his much smaller hand around Ryan's wrist. "You wouldn't like it either; you're not that much of a control freak."

Ryan laughed. "I'm lazy. Being a control freak feels like work."

"I'm a masochist. How do you punish a masochist?"

"It can be done. I've belted you a few times as punishment. I can make it so you don't fly."

"It's not fun for you."

Ryan finger combed Blade's hair again. It was something he did when he was unsure or thinking. "I'm a sadist. I enjoy hurting you. I enjoy it most when you enjoy it, but I could learn to do it the other way. I could learn to enjoy it the other way."

Blade twisted in Ryan's lap, and Ryan let him. Blade traced Ryan's sharp cheekbones and firm mouth with his finger. "I don't want you to learn to enjoy it. You wouldn't like it."

"But would you?"

"No," Blade said after a pause. "In a mood like today, yes. I just wanted to chuck everything at you and be done with it, but after a week I'd hate it." Blade felt the heat rise up his neck and face."I wanted spanked today."

"I know you did. There are better ways to ask for it than your behavior this afternoon."

"I know." Blade leaned into Ryan's chest. "I'd get in trouble just to get spanked."

"Probably." Ryan fingered Blade's hair off his forehead. "Or I'd get you in trouble so I could spank you. It's easy to set up a submissive for punishment."

"You'd never do that."

"The temptation is there."

"Milton never does."

"That man is extraordinarily disciplined. He respects his power more than any other dominant I've met."

"He resisted taking Sheldon as a slave."

"Yes."  Ryan mussed Blade's hair and smoothed it flat again. "Milton's not naive, and he reads people very well. He knew they were playing a game on the edge of master/slave. Milton has always controlled aspects of Sheldon's daily life; they both just hid it behind games: Sheldon because he feared himself and his need for total submission, Milton because he feared what he'd do to his boy. I know the theory. I've read the words of both masters and slaves, but I won't pretend to fully understand the commitment between Milton and Sheldon. It is a commitment of frightening beauty and intensity. I am awed when I see them together. Sheldon truly believes his will belongs to Milton, and he desires it that way. The term chattel and slave are not empty words or a means to kinky sex. They are everything. Sheldon belongs to Milton, not the way you belong to me which leaves large parts of your identity outside of the sphere of belonging. Everything that is Sheldon is under Milton's control."

"It's beautiful." Blade wound his fingers into Ryan's shirt, clinging tightly. "Frightening too."

"You promise me--" Ryan caught Blade's chin in his hand and forced their eyes to meet.-- "You promise me," he repeated, "that we will discuss it long and hard if it ever becomes more beautiful than frightening."

"Don't worry, I'm not that crazy," Blade said with a grin that he didn't feel. Smiling and joking had always been his escape from serious thoughts.

"You're a strong submissive; I'm a strong dominant. I see the appeal."

"I also see you never letting me have Coke again. No thanks."

"I don't think it's that easy for either of us to dismiss, no matter how much I would prefer not to see that side of myself. Interfering bastard is my description for it," Ryan said with a lopsided smile. He kissed Blade's nose and dropped a chaste kiss on his lips. "Back to your reading, boy."

"Ugh, I thought we canceled that."

"Nice try," Ryan said with a friendly swat. "A reminder of us. Get busy."

"Yes, Ryan." Blade reached over and picked up the book. He wasn't leaving his lovely perch on his man's lap. He would read, but Ryan could be the chair.