Discoveries

This story will only make sense if read after Wants and Needs. I hadn't planned on doing a little series. I was only taking a breather from The Unbreakables and tidying up bits of RC Verse when I started these little stories.

Discoveries

(6 months after Needs)

Someone was banging on the door. Mirka’s bark echoed off the wall. Noah flicked on the light. There was no use worrying if Sam was awake, not with the barking. 

“What?”

Sam was never coherent in the morning, not at nine and certainly not at four am. “Grab Mirka. I’ll see who’s at the door.”

“Noah Webster?”

“Yes,” Noah said slowly, his mind trying to absorb that two police officers were at his door at four in the morning. He didn’t do criminal work. He had no family in this country. Sam was safely in the kitchen with Mirka on leash and on guard. “Can I help you, sirs?”

“Is this the residence of Jonah Spencer?”

“It was. He moved out eight months ago. Officers, can you please tell me what this is concerning.”

“I think we best come in,” the first officer said, moving toward the door. “I’m Officer Hernandez and this if my partner Officer Mendez.

“What is this about?” Noah blocked the door with his body. He hadn’t seen Jonah for a month; the last time he’d practically had to trap him in his classroom after school, but as far as he knew Jonah wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t having the police barge into his house, not without a warrant. 

“There has been an accident,” Officer Mendez said. “You’re listed as his emergency contact.”

“What?”

“Sir, please, we should do this inside.”

“He’s dead,” Noah whispered. He grabbed for the door handle, suddenly needing support. 

“Sir, please. Maybe a cup of coffee,” Officer Hernandez said.

“Yes, of course,” Noah heard himself say. His mouth was working automatically. His brain was flying in all directions. What was he going to tell Sam? For all the hurt and pain, Sam had loved Jonah. He would need Noah now. He couldn’t stand here gaping like a fish. 

“What is it?” Sam’s hand was in Mirka’s collar. Sam’s eyes met Noah’s. He was perceptive, sensitive. He’d been the one gluing their relationship with Jonah together. “Bad?” The word was a whisper.

“It’s about Jonah. He’s had an accident.” Noah was shocked that his voice was steady. The world felt as if it were spinning in all directions, but his voice was steady and calm. “Put the dog in his crate. I’ll make coffee.”

“Where is he? What hospital?” Sam’s voice rose in panic.

“Put the dog away. We’ll be in the kitchen.”

Sam obeyed. Noah didn’t order him. They didn’t have that sort of relationship, but Sam was always polite and gracious. He went with stiff shoulders and a desperate look in his eyes. Noah busied himself with the coffee beans. He measured and ground and poured. Sam slipped back into the kitchen. He brushed his fingertips against Noah’s back, an almost invisible gesture of affection.

Texas had beaten the public displays of affection from these men, but Sam always found a way. He’d learned to allow the more demonstrative side of his nature to show when he felt safe, but here with two strange men in uniform, he’d reverted to invisible and shy. Noah caught his hand and squeezed.

“We’ll get through this. Officers, what happened. Can I…Can I assume…” Noah couldn’t form the words. He knew the words. He knew he didn’t even need to be told; he could read it on these men’s faces. They’d not come to tell them that Jonah was injured, but to tell them that they would need to make funeral arrangements.

“He was dead at the scene,” Hernandez, the older of the two officer’s said, unable to make eye contact even though Noah knew they must have been trained in managing grief and shock. “We’re sorry.”

“How? When? Where?” The words bubbled from Sam. His entire body shuddered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah said, pulling Sam against his chest and hugging him tightly. His precious boys—one gone. Jonah had seen so little of this world; it was so unfair.

“Why?” Sam cried, clinging to Noah, tears streaming down his face. “Why?”

“Sometimes there is no why,” Noah said, swallowing tears which he could only allow later. Right now he needed to be strong. He needed to do the official business. “Is there paperwork or identification I need to do, officers?”

“We had his fingerprints on file. No need for identification. If you’re officially next of kin, the remains will be released to your care.”

“Not officially,” Noah said with a quick shake of his head. “Too many of us,”

“Do you know his next of kin?” Officer Martinez asked, pulling out a notebook.

“He’s—was,” Noah corrected himself, “from Texas. There is no one but us.”

“Yes, but—“

“I have the paperwork,” Noah interrupted. “It’s filed at my office. We weren’t married, but we made arrangements.”

“You were living separately?” Officer Hernandez asked.

Noah stiffened. “My understanding is that Jonah died in a road accident. Are we under investigation?”

“No.” The officer spread his hands in a soothing gesture. “Just routine. Both drivers were killed on the scene. We’re just filling in the details.”

“What happened?” Sam asked. “Was he drinking?”

“Sam!”

“I want to know,” Sam said, pulling away from Noah. “He’s dead. I at least deserve to know what happened.”

“Did he have a drinking problem?” Officer Hernandez asked, pulling out his notebook.

“He wasn’t a teetotaler,” Noah said, “but he didn’t drink and drive.”

Sam glanced at Noah, but didn’t say anything. Maybe Noah had glossed over the details, but he wasn’t offering the police more information than necessary. Jonah didn’t need to be tainted in death. Once he had driven drunk, and Noah wasn’t sure if Sam had hidden other incidences. Sam hated conflict, and Noah had been true and legitimately furious. He could still remember the shouted words and Jonah’s anger. 

“If it’s such a fucking problem why don’t you beat me for it. You’re the dom after all.”

Noah had walked away, too horrified to respond. He was a dominant, not an abuser. They’d talk about it later when they both had better control of their temper, but Noah had never been sure that Jonah understood the difference. He’d wanted punished for the drinking and Noah had refused.There were places that he wouldn’t go and that was one of them. Submission was supposed to bring the submissive pleasure, not pain or at least not pain without an end goal of pleasure or headspace. He wasn’t his sub’s keeper or conscience. 

“Did he have a drinking problem?” Officer Hernandez persisted.

“No,” Noah said. “You have access to his arrest record. Jonah taught at the high school. There is no need to investigate him.”

Officer Hernandez shrugged. “I’m just completing our report.” His expression softened as he took in Sam who was clutching his coffee cup with too much force. “There’s no evidence that he was anything but sober. It appears the other driver was under the influence. He was driving the wrong way on I-25 and hit Jonah’s car head on. Death was instantaneous. He didn’t suffer.”

“Thank the Lord,” Sam muttered, his eyes glazing with tears again.

“Officers, I assume the formalities can wait until morning,” Noah said, standing up. “I would like some time alone with my partner.”

“Of course.” Officer Hernandez shut his notebook and stood up. “This is my card. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Thank you.” Noah knew he was pushing the police out the door, but he didn’t care. Sam was hanging on by a thread, and he wasn’t much better. Only the shock was keeping him half rational. He shut the door and nearly ran back toward the kitchen.

Sam had let Mirka out of the crate and his head was buried in the big dog’s fur. “Why? Why?” he cried. “Hadn’t he suffered enough?”

Noah had no answer. All he could do was add his body to the tangle of Sam and Mirka. He stood there, tears dripping on the black dog’s fur.

***

Making the funeral arrangements had been a blessing. It had kept both them occupied, flowers, accommodations for the hordes, preparations of remembrances. Noah would have preferred small and private, but the school faculty had turned out in full as well as a dozen students and their parents, but they felt like a fraction of the people compared to the masses of Green Mountain Boys. Jonah had lived in Milton’s house; there was no way that Noah could not invite them to the memorial. 

Noah didn’t think he knew half of them, maybe not even a quarter of them. Sam knew a few more, or at least the half dozen or so that seemed to be in Milton’s household. Noah wasn’t even going to try to figure that out. Five, he thought; the man must be insane. Gordon and Landon had come, of course, both older, but still vibrant with larger than life personalities. Josh and Jer had come with them. Josh’s steady solidity a welcome respite in the chaos of a funeral and burial. Noah hadn’t seen either of them in years, but their sad smiles and strong hugs were genuine and welcomed. 

Noah cast his eyes over the food. It wouldn’t have held out, except Trent and Mace had commandeered the kitchen at the sight of the crowd and doubled the amount brought by the caterers. Noah looked for Samuel in the thinning throng. He’d been fading, his expression more and more forced. Noah hoped that one of the red-haired brothers had pulled Sam aside. They had closed ranks around him as soon as they arrived, irreverent to the extreme and just what Sam needed.

“Mr. Webster,” a tall and broad man said from his back.

“Noah,” Noah said automatically. “You were a friend of Jonah’s?”

“Hugh Grendel.” The man held out his hand and shook Noah’s hand with a firm, confident grip. “You wouldn’t know me. I met him after…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry, Hugh,” Noah said, searching for words. What did he say to the man who was obviously Jonah’s boyfriend, a man whom Noah didn’t know and who was grieving as hard as Noah?

“Your loss must be worse. I only knew him a few months. He was a good man. I…” Hugh broke off again.

“You were his dominant. It’s no secret Jonah was a submissive.”

Hugh let out a soft sigh and relaxed a fraction. “Part time only. He was with me the night before he died. He was happy that night. I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you.”

Hugh nodded and looked over his shoulder. “I knew he’d been in the lifestyle, but those are Green Mountain Boys.”

“What gave them away? Their excessive polite bossiness or the the thousand dollar suits?” Noah said with a genuine smile.

Hugh laughed, a strained bark that he choked back quickly. “Good to know.”

“Thank you for coming,” Noah said as they stood staring at each other. “It means an enormous amount to me.”

Hugh reached forward and gripped Noah’s arm in a gesture that should have been too familiar, but was somehow appropriate from this big man. “Sometimes life keeps raining shit on your head. He had you and he had me. Maybe he was luckier than some.”

“Not lucky enough.”

“He’s gone now. You have a boy. Take care of him. The dead don’t need your care. The living do.”

“Mr. Grendel—“

“I know that was beyond my place,” Hugh said, holding up his hand. “I’ve never been polite or proper. I say what I see. Take care of that boy. Jonah and I didn’t have a relationship that involved much talking, but I have eyes. I can tell what he meant to you and your boy. He’d want you happy. Live your life in the future.”

“And you?”

“I’ll cope,” Hugh said with a shrug. “I’m better at giving advice than living it. I’ll be going now. I just wanted to pay my last respects.”

Hugh crossed the room before Noah could react. His long strides made it clear that he was going for the door, but there was no way to stop him. He was gone as fast as Jonah’s life had disappeared.

Noah managed more proper and bland words as mourners pressed his cheek with kisses or tried to tell amusing anecdotes. A minute of solitude and he stood staring into the thinning crowd. He resisted the urge to rub his hand over his hair, sigh, and slump into the corner. He’d learned long ago to keep his game face on, first in Texas and then under the savage tutelage of Landon and Gordon. Maybe savage was too unkind of word for them. They’d paid for his undergraduate and graduate education and his down payment on his house without any demand for repayment, except for his loyalty. 

They demanded loyalty in blood, once a Green Mountain Boy always a Green Mountain Boy. It was the only social club in the world beside the mafia that had no exit strategy except concrete boots.

Shit, he was starting to be the absolute cynic he’d promised he’d never be. They’d let him go, only to whistle and have him trotting back like a loyal dog. The force of Milton and Gordon together had been a sucker punch that he couldn’t resist, and, of course, they’d had all the logic; they always did.

Jonah and Samuel need some space; they need out of our craziness. You’re quiet and steady, just board them for a while.

Those hadn’t been the exact words, but that had been the meaning. He couldn’t say no. He knew the meaning of all that craziness, the lure and power that hadn’t even been whispered in his small town, even with his parents half crazy progressive friends. Their rebellion went far enough to suggest the state not arrest people for morality crimes and to buy organic produce. It didn’t stretch to tying up your lover and whipping his ass. That had been Landon and Gordon’s specialty and somehow it had trickled over to Noah. He’d never really had a chance at vanilla. To an eighteen year old it had been an unbelievable sea of kinkiness. They hadn’t needed to manipulate him into trying it; he’d jump right in without looking for sharks or rocks.

He’d found his sharks, his first lover in the arms or another Green Mountain dominant, so much for the much vaunted honor. And this with Jonah, nothing left but congealing cakes and too many bouquets trying to look cheerful instead of sad.

“You OK?”

“Milton.” Noah bit back the curse words that rose to his throat. He didn’t want to deal with Gordon’s successor. Noah knew Gordon well enough to at least half shield himself from the invasive questions. He had an arsenal of counter tactics. Against Milton he was flying blind, and worse, he suspected Milton might be better at it than Gordon, not the ruthlessness, not that Noah could imagine any protege of Gordon’s not knowing how to be ruthless, but the sense of goodwill. How did you fight the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus wrapped into one? The man exuded the sense that his only care was Noah and Noah’s feelings. Damn, he needed more sleep. He was never going to survive this.

“I’d offer you coffee, but somehow I think you’ve drunk more cups than is safe or sensible.”

“I thought safe and sane was for sex. Does the coffee have to consent to me drinking it?”

“I prefer risk aware as my motto because even without kink we take risks. Love is a risk, and it hurts. Let’s not fight, Noah. You loved that boy, and you hurt for him. We all get that. We aren’t the enemy.”

“I failed him.” 

Milton made some sort of scolding sound in his throat that was far more appropriate for an errant puppy than talking to a man, but Noah’s protests were interrupted by a far too effective herding technique. He found himself outside, blinking into the blue sky and sucking in the spring air.

“Are we going to talk or fight? I can do either.”

“Milton, fuck off!”

“I happen to know you have an expensive Ivy League education; you can do better than that.”

“I’ll take a raincheck on witty conversations. Funerals do that to me.”

“Me too.” Milton grabbed Noah’s arm and guided them both to the wooden bench that overlooked the hollyhocks that were only started to grow up the trellis. “You looked at me like you wanted to kill me when Samuel ran into my embrace when I got here.  I’m not Gordon, and I don’t know all the details between you and him, but I know it went sour. That’s your business. I’m here for Samuel and for you.”

“Sam, he prefers Sam. Where is he now?”

“Sheldon and Blade have him. He’ll be well occupied and entertained and they’ll keep a hold of him. Sheldon only pretends to be irresponsible.”

“He’s not a child.”

“I hope not since he has a few years on Austin, and I still hear whispers of cradle robber when he stands by my side.”

Noah stared off to the mountains in the distance. He was being played and far too well for his addled brain. He was usually good at negotiations, but today he’d buy a swamp for a million or sell the family trade secret for a worthless scrap of paper. He’d noticed Austin, still gawky as if he’d just left his teenage years behind and with eyes filled with naked worship that rarely left Milton.

“He’s not a victim, and he’ll tell you all about it if you want verification. I keep him muzzled because he can have the manners of a pack of hyenas when he gets going, but if you want a taste I’ll unleash him. Most people only want to be bitten once.”

“Milton!”

“He’s young, and I spoil him. You don’t need to tell me I’m failing at domination 101. I have Landon to tell me that.” Milton smiled, a crinkling around his eyes and a curling of his mouth, an expression that spoke of such genuine warmth that it was impossible not to smile back.

“Truce.” Noah said, spreading his hands across his lap in a peace gesture.

“If you need someone to take out your anger on, I’m here, and I’m practiced. I don’t mind.”

“No.” 

“OK.” Milton dropped his arm over Noah’s shoulder in a hold that was far too intimate for near strangers, but was also impossible to deny its comfort and security. “I wanted to ask your forgiveness.”

Noah stared. He knew his eyes showed the surprise he felt. He’d expected a lecture on keeping his chin up, on not giving up, on remembering others had his back, not a plea for forgiveness. “For what?”

“I pushed my problem on you instead of facing it head on and now—“

“Oh, no you don’t.” Noah jumped up and stood over Milton. “Neither of us were driving that car. We didn’t ram into the front of Jonah’s car as if he wasn’t there.”

“I know that.” Milton stared up at Noah, his eyes unwavering, controlling the situation even as he sat under the heat of Noah’s righteous lecture. “I should have separated Jonah and Samuel. I didn’t want to play God. I thought with more time they would realize it. I’m sorry.”

Noah slumped back on the bench and buried his face in his hands. “Don’t I know.” He should look up. He should own his problems, but hiding for the moment felt so much easier. “I was always between them. I thought I could handle both.” Noah pulled his head out of his hands. “I knew you just meant for me to board them, so don’t you go blaming yourself for this mess. I went into it with my eyes wide open, and I was arrogant enough to think I could manage it. Jonah wanted beat, and Sam wanted loved and protected.” Noah paused and wiped his arm over his eyes. “I thought I could teach Jonah to want to be loved.”

“I think you did. I talked to Hugh.”

“How—“

“He wasn’t with the school group and he wasn’t with your friends or the Green Mountain Boys. That left Jonah’s boyfriend, so I asked him.”

“I wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t told me.”

You had more on your mind. Anyway he was with Jonah for a few months. He had no idea Jonah was a Green Mountain Boy, and he doesn’t think much of us, ‘stuck up do gooders in too tight of pants who stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“He said that to you?”

“He wasn’t shy, and I think he likes to poke a bear with a stick. He was disappointed when I only grinned at him and handed him my card if he ever wanted to get in touch.”

“You devil!”

“Couldn’t resist. It will give him a good story to tell at the bar.”

“You’re a brat.”

“At heart,” Milton said with an easy grin. “But don’t you dare tell Gordon. He’ll take my crown, and I’ll no longer be king.”

Noah shook his head. “You were his choice.” 

“Different generations, but we’re more alike than I’m letting on.”

“You’re manipulating me.” Noah jerked away from the hand that had been comfort a second ago. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about you and Samu—no Sam—as a friend. Are you going to make me the enemy?”

Noah let his head fall back and the sun warm his face. He was too tired for this. He might as well hear this out. He’d never get rid of Mr. Head of the Green Mountain Boys if he didn’t. “I’m listening.”

“Under duress,” Milton said with one of those wry smiles that made it obvious that he knew exactly the extent of his manipulation and polite force.

“I’m not an innocent, my dear Mr. Brown,” Noah said, raising an eyebrow. Two can play at this game as well as one.

“We can lunge and parry until the cows come home as my grandfather would have said, or we can close ranks and remember our similarities. We both want the same thing, Noah.”

Noah looked up and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve agreed. What do you want, my complete capitulation?”

“No, just not the feeling I’m torturing you.”

“Milton.” Noah leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands. “I have history.”

“As do we all,” Milton said, his voice taking a harder tone. “Are we going to wallow in the past wrongs, or are we going to live for today and tomorrow? Don’t you dare think I never fought with Gordon until we hurled words at each other the way armies fire missiles. I’ve hurt my own boys in such frightful ways that I hardly deserve a molecule of air to breathe. The world is unfair. All we can do is our best.”

“Your boys…I’ve seen them.” Noah ran a hand down his dress slacks. “They’re happy.”

“We keep trying.”

“It’s not so easy.” Noah’s gripped the bench with his hand. He wasn’t going to go here. His defenses were down; it didn’t mean he had to capitulate. “And—“

“I’m being a bastard.” Milton said with totally disarming charm. “I’m being the interrogator that wakes keeps the prisoner awake for three days and questions him at two in the morning. I know that. Can we move on from there?”

“God.” Noah blew out a long breath of air between his teeth. “Shit!” He hung his head down and clasped his hands together. “Go on.”

“Well, that went better than I thought,” Milton said, a laugh bubbling under his voice. “I don’t actually have a black eye.”

Noah lifted his head and gave Milton a long look. “I suspect you can hold your own in a fight.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

Noah nodded. At some level he knew Milton’s words were true, but still anger rose in his throat. This dominant was here to tell him what to do, to read him the riot act. Noah could like Milton; that was the problem. Gordon with his supercilious manners and his arrogance was an easy target. Milton might be a regular guy if he didn’t wear his dominance quite so easily.

“I’m the stranger from back East telling you what to do. I get that.” Milton reached down and picked up a pebble from the path, rolling it between his fingers. “I’m another dominant, a rival. I get that too. You know, Gordon gives me these lectures. He’s not this nice about it.”

“I can believe that,” Noah said with a snort.

“Unfortunately no matter how angry I am, how ill used I feel, he’s usually right. Maybe that makes it worse. I don’t know.” Milton thumbed the rough wood of the seat, not looking at Noah. “I only know he’s saved me from myself more times than I can count. I also always know how hard it is not to resent being saved from myself.”

Noah stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. The silence sat between them far sharper than any words. “Go on,” he muttered, unable to bear it any longer.

“Jonah’s gone now. Let him go. Focus on the boy you have. Samuel, Sam,” Milton corrected himself, “needs you. Jonah overshadowed him in life. Don’t let him overshadowed him in death.”

“Sam is not a boy.”

“Are you sure?” Milton rested his eyes on Noah. “I’ve learned something about who is and isn’t a boy since the last time we talked at any length.”

“I gave him a choice.”

“And he yielded to Jonah like he always did. He gave way for the man with more needs. Jonah screamed submission in all the obvious ways.” Milton hesitated and cleared his throat. “I missed it with Tilden for twenty years, the man who wanted to serve so badly that he pretended to be dominant, and I’m supposed to be good at this.” Milton’s voice rose with exasperation and anger. “I made him suffer. Big, strong, all knowing dom and I was a heartless idiot.”  Milton slapped his palm down on his thigh, agony crossing his face before he controlled his emotions.

“You made it right,” Noah said softly, offering the words more to the wind than to Milton.

“Maybe. I did my best as inadequate and failing as that may be, but you still have time with Sam. He’s only figuring it out himself. Be his guide. He needs you,” Milton said with increased passion.

“He’s not into it.” Vague and useless words, but Noah couldn’t articulate more. Sam had blanched at all the usual submissive pleasures. 

“He doesn’t want whipped or spanked. Can you blame him with his history? He’s not pain averse. You’ve pierced him.”

“He wanted that. It wasn’t a scene.”

“Maybe not, but he had you do it, not a professional piercer. He trusted you with his pain when he was still very afraid. Noah, he knows who you are. He’s no innocent. He knows that you’re a dom, and he hasn’t run screaming for the hills.” Milton started to reach for Noah and stopped himself. “He won’t ask. I’ve seen this before. Sacrifice runs too deep. You have to ask him.”

“And if he’s this creature as wired to please as you say he is, how can he say no to me?” Noah spat. He wouldn’t force himself on Sam. 

“It’s a balancing act,” Milton replied, not reacting to Noah’s hostility. “You ask yourself what you’ve seen him do, how you’ve seen him give of himself.”

“He’s kind and generous.”

“And…” Milton let the word hang in the air.

“I know what you want. You want me to say he’s submissive, but I don’t know.”

“No,” Milton said with way too much calm detachment. “Ultimately I want him to say whether he’s a submissive. I want you to think of his reactions. The lavender shirt for the funeral today was your choice.”

It might not have been a question, but Noah answered it. “The color looks good on him.”

“It does. It also reflects his effeminate side, something you’ve surely noticed and also noticed how hard he tried to hide it from Jonah.”

“Sam likes pretty things; Jonah couldn’t always understand that.”

“You have a very pretty boy. There is no shame in letting him know you like him pretty. I’d keep him in lavender and soft blues with beautiful silver up his wrists and hanging from his ears and perhaps around his neck. Let him know that you’re proud that he’s pretty and wants to be pretty. Gordon bought the shirt Tilden was wearing today. I still remember him all smug after he brought Tilden home from his London shopping trip. ‘You have some boys who want to wallow in the mud and buy shirts by the gross sight unseen. Your Tilden has more refined tastes.’ And I’d been worried sending Tilden off alone with him. They drank tea and picked out power ties in pastel. I don’t wear pink, but Tilden does and often at my orders. Give that to your boy.”

“Wearing pink doesn’t make him submissive.”

Milton snorted. “I’ve seen Gordon in pink. No it’s not the color; it’s the service. He’s always at your elbow, clearing your plate, giving you coffee.”

“He’s polite and thoughtful.”

“He’s begging you to notice and call him a good boy. I asked him if he was a good boy when he ran into my arms. His face lit up like a thousand watt bulb. Give him that, Noah. There is far more to dominance and submission than a whipping. You should know that. You don’t even much get off on the pain side. It’s the control and the protection. You have the perfect boy. Don’t chase him away?”

“What—“

“I asked Landon what you liked. I’ve also seen you with the two of them a few times and with my boys. You want to give a boy pleasure, not make him suffer, even if suffering is how he finds pleasure. At least think about it, Noah. All I can do is ask.”

Noah stood up. “Are you done with your Green Mountain Boy head shrinking?”

“For now,” Milton said with a half smile. “We’ve disappeared for long enough. We better show our faces before someone sends the cavalry.”