Sean Michael A Hammer Novel 32 solitary

Solitary

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents either are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations,
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
and beyond the intent of either the author or the
publisher.

Solitary
TOP SHELF
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2012 by Sean Michael
Cover illustration by S. Squires
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-690-1
www.torquerepress.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to
reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever except as provided by the U.S.
Copyright Law. For information address Torquere
Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: March 2012
Printed in the USA

Solitary

Solitary

By Sean Michael

Chapter One

Ap hated paperwork.
He was a farmer, damn it. At least that's what it said

on paper. The truth was he owned a huge swath of land
and the only thing that grew on it was trees. So that's
what he sold. Christmas Trees to be more precise.
Which, apparently, made him a farmer.

You'd think farming would require fewer forms.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Being a bit of a

loner, he wasn't fond of talking on the phone, either, but
it was better than paperwork.

He pulled his cell out and slid his finger across the

bottom to answer it. "Appleton."

"Ap. It's Oliver. How are you?"
His eyebrow arched. Oliver? From California? He

hadn't heard from Ollie in months, at least not via phone.
He emailed regularly with his friends.

"Hi, Ollie. What's up?" He couldn't imagine this was

just a casual call.

"I have a bit of an emergency, and I was hoping to

appeal to you for your help."

Well that was surprising. He was a little far away to

be helping Ollie out, but he was happy to do what he
could. "Of course. What do you need?"

"I have a sub, Gregory, who is... well, I'm sorry to

say that he's completely out of control, and I'm afraid, if
the police pick him up once more, they'll deport him.
He's a Canadian citizen, and he needs help. Somewhat
desperately."

Ap frowned and started looking up flights. "What is

he being picked up for?"

"Fighting. Drunk and disorderly. Destruction of

public property." Oliver sighed. "He was in the very
beginning of a relationship -- very hardcore, 24/7,
master/slave -- when his Dom was shot and killed in a
convenience store. That was three years ago, and he's

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gone through and worn out every Top I know. He's self-
destructive, and no one has the energy and time to give
him the control he needs."

Damn, that was a rough hand to be dealt.
"You want me to come down and fly him back, or do

you trust him to make the transfer and I'll meet him in
Toronto?" Aside from paperwork, there wasn't a whole
lot on his plate right now. He could certainly spare
Oliver a couple of days to make the pick-up, if need be.

"I'll bring him." Oliver sighed. "Thank you, Ap. I

appreciate your help."

"Text me the details, Ollie, and I'll meet you at

Pearson International."

"Is the day after tomorrow too soon?"
The day after tomorrow. Was he ready to be invaded

by a hard case right now? If he wanted to help Ollie out,

he would have to be, because if Oliver wanted the sub
delivered that quickly, he was clearly at his wits' end.

"That'll work. I can stock up while I'm in the city."

Unless they were on a red-eye, Ap would have time
before the flight came in.

"I'll send you his file, his questionnaire from the

Hammer, and our flight details."

"Sure thing, Oliver. Will you be staying for a few

days yourself?' He would be happy to spend some time

with his old friend.

"No. No, I'll be meeting my Jack and we'll spend a

day or two vacationing before we head home."

"Dump and run, eh?" He chuckled to let Ollie know

he was just teasing.

"No. No, I'm just... Ap, I've been to the jail twice this

week. I'm rather overwhelmed."

"I'm sorry, Oliver. I was only teasing. Are you sure

you don't want me to come down for him?" He'd be
more than happy to in order to help out.

"I think you'll need to prepare yourself. He's not

exactly pleased at being sent away. Willing to trust me,
but not pleased."

"All right, Ollie. I'll get everything ready for him and

meet you at the airport. It's going to all work out -- you'll

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see." It wasn't like Greg would have anywhere to run
away to or anyplace to act out other than his house; he
truly was in the boonies.

"I owe you one, my friend."
"I'll let you know just how big of one in a week or

two."

He and Ollie exchanged goodbyes, and he opened his

laptop up, beginning to make lists; it had been awhile
since he'd had a live-in sub.

***

I swear that I will never let you go.
"Don't lie, Tim."
I didn't. I'm here.
Greg shook his head, the motion making the world

scream with pain, his veins pulsing. "You lie. You left
me. You left me here."

I love you.
"Then why, Tim? Why did you go?"
I had to, baby. It was my time.
Greg sobbed as he searched the darkness, trying to

see his Master, grab hold of that strong hand and hold
on, beg the man to take him, too. Help him. He was so
alone, so scared, so fucking angry.

"Greg?"
The light went on, and he looked up, struggling

against his bonds as he winced against the light. Fucking
Oliver. Fucking playroom. Fucking control freak. "Let

me go."

"No. You… my dear boy, what is in your head?"
There was only one thing in his head, ever. His poor

lost Master.

His lover.
His pain.
Oliver came to him, hand on his forehead, and he

jerked away. "Don't. I can't. Let me go."

"He's gone, Greg, but that doesn't mean you're lost,

too." The sympathy in Oliver's voice was almost too
much to bear.

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"I was lost for a long time. I'm going to be lost

forever. Don't you understand? Just undo me, and I'll
leave."

"No. I'm sending you up north, to someone who…"
Greg didn't hear the rest; he simply started screaming,

fighting the bonds, his skin ripping at his ankles. He
didn't want to be sent away again, to another master that
didn't want him, didn't like him, didn't care.

Why wouldn't someone kill him?
All he could see was the empty, made up face of his

Tim, lying in the fucking casket, body cold and
unnatural. Empty. Leaving him here in this fucking
world all alone.

"Greg!" Oliver slapped him hard, his head rocking

with it.

"Just kill me. Please. Instead of dumping me on

someone who's going to hate me."

"I will not." Oliver's words were clipped, his lips

tight. "Appleton is a fabulous master, and he's eager to
meet you."

"Kill me."
"I won't." Oliver stared him down. "You'll stop this

nonsense immediately."

"It's not nonsense." Tim was gone. The only man

who had ever seen him, touched him, loved him, torn
out of his arms and buried in the ground. It wasn't fair. It
wasn't right.

And he was so fucking tired.
"You'll come with me to Ap's. You'll stay there to

heal. You must heal."

"There's nothing left to heal." Why wouldn't Oliver

understand that?

Oliver gave him a sad look. "Everyone can heal."
Not him.
Not at all.
He was never going to be right again.

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Chapter Two

Ap waited at the gate for Oliver and this Gregory. His

truck was full of supplies; the house was ready for a
reluctant guest. He was ready, too.

Oliver came out, the grim looking Dom with one

hand on the back of the neck of a short, stocky blond.
The man sported a black eye, his hair was unkempt and
disheveled, his clothes too big.

Jesus Christ, Ollie hadn't exaggerated this at all.

Gregory looked like death warmed over.

Ap made for them, waving so Oliver would see him.

Frankly, Oliver didn't look that much better than
Gregory, like he hadn't slept in far too long.

Oliver nodded to him, led the sub over. "Ap. Good

afternoon. This is Gregory."

"Hi, Gregory. I'm Master Ap. You can call me that,

or sir."

Bruised, huge green eyes met his. "Hello."
He slid his arm around the man's too-thin shoulders.

"Oliver, do you need a lift to where you're meeting
Jack?" Frankly, he thought the man needed to be tucked
into bed and made to sleep for a week.

"I..."
"Oliver!" Jack's voice rang out.
"No. No, I don't. Is there anything you need from

me?"

"Any bags?" He didn't want to keep Oliver a moment

longer than he needed to.

Oliver shook his head wearily and nodded at the

backpack in Gregory's hand. "He has enough clothes for
a week, as well as a coat and his cell phone. I can ship
everything else of his that he didn't destroy last night."

Jack looked at the sub, sighed, but didn't say

anything.

"That won't be necessary for now, Oliver. He won't

be wearing clothes for a while. Go with Jack. I've got
everything under control here." He took Oliver's hand,
squeezed it. "He's in good hands."

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"Thank you." Oliver looked at Gregory, waited until

their eyes met. "This is not a punishment. This is for
you."

"I'm out of your hands now. Not your problem. It's

okay." There was no life in Gregory's voice; it was
simply dull, used up.

"It will be okay, Ollie." Ap assured the man. "Call me

in a few days and I'll give you an update."

"Absolutely. Jack, did you get us a hotel room as I

asked?" The two men walked away, Jack taking Oliver's
bag.

"Look, if you want, you can just walk away. I

understand."

Ap turned his attention back to Gregory, shook his

head. "No one's walking away, boy." He grabbed the
backpack from Gregory and turned them toward

parking.

Gregory's hair looked like someone had hacked at it

with a machete, and the muscles under his hand were
stiff and hard as rocks.

"Are you hungry?" He walked quickly, his hand on

Gregory's shoulder, guiding the man.

"No, sir. I'm not."
"Okay." There were granola bars and juice in the

truck's cab, along with a bag of apples. They wouldn't
starve. Hell, if they needed to, they could stop and grab
something out of the bed of the truck.

Ap pointed to his red Ford F350 when they got to it

and then opened the passenger door for his new sub. He

tossed Gregory's backpack into the bed with the
supplies.

"It's about a four hour drive," he told Gregory as he

climbed in. "Give or take."

"Okay." Gregory didn't look around, didn't act

involved, didn't seem to care in the least where they
were or where they were going.

Ap maneuvered the truck out of the lot, paid for

parking and took the highway north. Once they were out
of the worst of the traffic, he glanced over at Gregory.
"Tell me about yourself."

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"My name's Gregory Nian. I'm from Vancouver. I've

been living in California for five years."

"Why'd you move there?" He was going to engage

Gregory, even if it killed them both.

"I went to work as a stunt man."
"That sounds like a neat job."
"I liked it. I don't do it anymore." Every answer was a

monotone. It didn't even seem like Gregory resented
telling him, just that the man couldn't care less.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"I fell. I was in the hospital with a broken back for six

months."

Shit, it sounded like Gregory hadn't caught any

breaks. At all. First that and then his master being shot.

"Is that when you went into the lifestyle? Or were

you already into it?"

"Tim was the EMT who responded to the scene of

my accident." Gregory sighed. "He was trying to show
me about it, I was trying to... It doesn't matter."

"Sure it matters. You matter Gregory." He didn't

figure Gregory would believe that yet. He had plenty of
time and very few distractions to convince the man of it,
though.

Gregory didn't answer, just looked out the window.

Ap knew that Gregory had flashes of temper, had a self-

destructive streak a mile wide, had only started to learn
the lifestyle.

"Did Oliver tell you anything about my place?"
"No. No, he told me that this was somewhere I'd be

safe."

"You will be. It's a house on some land. We're

isolated." There was no trouble for Gregory to get into,
really.

"Why did you say yes?"
"Because Oliver asked, and because it sounded like

you needed somewhere safe to work things out before
you wound up in jail or worse."

"Maybe I should be in jail."

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"Is that what you think? You think you're going to

find what you need there?" Jail was not going to solve
any of Gregory's problems, of that Ap could be certain.

"No. No, I won't."
"That's right. Look. I don't have all the answers,

either, but I know how to give you discipline, to punish
you, and to keep you from winding up in jail." He took
his eyes off the road long enough to look over at
Gregory. "I'll take care of you."

"You'll probably end up hating me. Everyone does."
"Well, I don't hate you yet." And Gregory was going

to find him a lot harder to push away than any of the
other Masters Oliver had placed the man with. What
Gregory needed was someone to believe in him for
awhile. Ap figured he could be that man.

The laughter he got in response was bitter. At least it

wasn't the same dull monotone.

"Would you like to hear how things are going to

work when we get to my place?"

"Yes. Master Oliver was good to me that way. He let

me know the rules."

"You're going to be confined to the house until

further notice unless you're performing duties out of
doors. You'll be naked at all times. If you're cold, you're
to let me know. You'll do whatever tasks I assign."

Gregory didn't say a word.
"What's your safeword?"
"Siren."
Jesus. That had to be a reminder of Gregory's dead

master every time he used it or considered using it.

"You're to use it if you need to. Understand?"
"I never have before."
Oh, now, that was interesting. Ap filed the

information away.

"What were you looking for when you began with

your master?" He knew it would probably be a touchy

subject, but if he was going to connect with Gregory, he
needed to know what the man wanted. What Gregory
needed.

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"A place. I was angry. He promised there was a place

where I'd be." The words cut off. "It doesn't matter. He
lied."

"No, finish it. Because it does matter. A place where

you'd be what?" There was no hiding here. Gregory
couldn't afford to hide from him.

"Right. Whole. Tired enough to sleep."
"And it never happened? How long had you been

working together when he was killed?"

"Six weeks."
"Shit, Greg, that's..." Jesus Christ. No wonder

Gregory was having trouble, especially if they'd started
getting somewhere, and then to have that snatched out of
his hands so brutally along with the man himself...

"Yeah. About two weeks is the limit."
"What do you mean?"

"That's when the Doms send me back to Oliver. I'm

not going back this time, though."

Ap snorted. "I'm lasting a lot longer than two weeks,

boy." He was going to see this through. Gregory was
hurting, and Ap could see that he was stubborn, but Ap
was stubborn, too. He could be as stubborn as he needed
to be.

"We'll see."
"Yeah. We will." This time Gregory's words were

defiant. It was a start.

It stayed quiet after that, Ap driving deeper and

deeper into the country, heading home.

***

A failure.
He was a worthless fucking failure. He couldn't even

get arrested without Oliver fetching him. Greg watched

the landscape pass by, hating himself with every
kilometer.

The new guy was a stud. Tall, well-built, dark hair

and blue eyes. He seemed pretty damn solid, really. It
didn't matter, though. In two weeks he'd be tossed out on

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his ass again. Either that or he'd just leave. He was tired
of failing. He was tired of disappointment.

Eventually they turned off the paved highway and

onto a gravel road, before finally turning up a long, dirt
lane. There hadn't been anything but trees for more than
an hour. At the end of the lane was a huge house with all
kinds of windows and solar panels on the roof, along
with a massive antenna and several satellite dishes.

"Big." Jesus, how much house did one man need?
"Yeah. We're isolated up here, this place is home,

office, where I live and work and play."

He was giving a wolfish grin all of a sudden. "Don't

linger too long between the truck and the door -- the
mosquitos'll carry you off."

There was nothing out here. Nothing. No bars. No

gangs. No trouble. No street lights. Oliver had said

something about the place being isolated, but this was...
he could hardly believe anyone lived this far away from
civilization.

"Come on. The supplies can stay in the truck for

now." Appleton grabbed his bag and headed for the
door.

Greg followed, arms wrapped around his waist.
Two dogs met them at the door, the first a little mutt

who barked and barked at him. It was followed by what
looked like a St. Bernard mix, the big dog giving a
solitary woof that had the little one shutting up like a
switch had been turned.

"The noisy one is Raspberry, the big one is Bernie.

Hey, mutts, this is Gregory. He lives here now. Be nice
to him."

Greg held one hand down to let the big dog sniff.

He'd had dogs once.

"That's right. Good job." Ap's praise was softly

spoken, matter of fact.

The big dog sniffed his hand and then licked it. The

little dog came right up to him after that, trying to get to
his hand, too. He knelt down, feeling exhausted in his
bones, and let the little dog explore him. Raspberry
sniffed his face and then licked it.

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Ap chuckled. "She likes you. It's a good sign."
Greg wouldn't touch her; what if he hurt her? She

was tiny.

"Go ahead and pet her. Bernie, too. They're suckers

for attention."

"I don't want to hurt her." He dangled his fingers, let

the pup rub herself on him.

"So touch her gently. She won't break from a simple

petting."

A hand landed on his shoulder as Ap bent and gently

stroked the little mutt, her eyes half-closing, her head
tilting back to offer her neck. He held Ap's weight,
petted the dog with one finger. His mind rushed from
thought to thought.

Ap straightened again, giving Bernie a good hard

petting before moving further into the house. "You'll

want to see your room. You can strip there. I was serious
about the no-clothes rule."

"Are you going to want to fuck?" He wasn't

interested, but he didn't think he was opposed. He just
didn't care.

"I don't know if that's in the cards for us, Gregory. I

want to get to know you better first. Which reminds me
of another rule. No jacking off without my permission."

He nodded. That was standard. He tended to have wet

dreams anyway.

Ap touched his arm, encouraging him to stand. "And

if you want that kind of contact, I'd like you to let me
know." Ap's knuckles slid across his cheek, the touch

surprisingly tender.

For a second the touch reminded him of Tim, of the

care, the tenderness that came after each hard lesson. It
reminded him of Tim's promise that love and protection
would always come after the work, the stress.

Tim had lied. When things were worst, all he had was

himself. This whole life was a lie to make idiots like him
worse. He waited for Tim's voice to come, to deny it, to
insist that Tim was still there with him, looking out for
him. It didn't come.

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Gregory refused to give in to the tears; he wanted to

let himself feel a little rage. "I can do that." It was never
going to happen.

"Okay." Ap stared at him for a moment longer, than

took his arm and led him through the house to the wide
staircase. The living room that took up half of the house
had a ceiling up to the second floor. The dogs left them
there, going to curl up in front of a lit fireplace. Greg
didn't get much more of a look at the main floor before
they were going up. "Once you're naked, we can eat. Do
you cook?"

He'd gone to culinary school. That had been his back-

up plan, when he had still been planning. "No."

"I'll teach you. For tonight, there's stew on. Fresh

bread."

"Okay. Thank you." He kept waiting for the

emptiness to turn to fury, but he was obviously too tired.

Ap looked at him, clearly waiting for something. He

looked back, unsure what he'd done, or hadn't done,
whatever.

Smiling, Ap reaching out and touched his shirt.

"Clothes?"

"Oh, right." He stripped down, unashamed. He wasn't

hideous. He was a man -- covered in coarse, blond hair a
shade darker than the mess on his head.

"Mmm. Nice." Ap smiled, nodded, and took his

clothes. "These will be locked away with your bag."

"What do you want me to do if someone comes?"
Ap blinked at Greg, looking surprised, and then

chuckled and shook his head. "No one's coming, boy.

We're very isolated out here."

"Okay." There was always someone who stopped by.

It wasn't his problem, though; it would be Ap who had
to explain.

Ap continued waiting for him.
He looked at Ap. "Am I doing something wrong?"
"Nope. Are you ready to go back to the kitchen?"
"Sure. Is this where I sleep?"

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"Yes. Unless you're being punished. Then there's a

small room in the basement with a cot. Behave well and
you'll be treated well."

He nodded. He didn't want to be an ass. Usually he

wasn't. People just pissed him off.

Ap took his clothing and nodded, leading the way

back down. Greg missed having a home, having a
friend, someone to laugh with, some... Hell, he missed
Tim. This thing here was an experiment doomed to
failure.

"What kind of music do you like?"
"I listen to death metal, industrial." Angry. Driving. It

didn't let anything else in his head.

Ap chuckled. "Okay, what's your second choice?"
"I used to listen to old time rock and roll, I guess."
"I can handle that." Ap went to an iPod stand and a

moment later Chubby Checker started singing about
twisting again.

It was strange, to be standing around naked. Hell, this

whole thing was strange. And he wanted his phone.

"Go ahead and set the table. Look through the

cupboards until you find what we need for the stew,
bread, dessert and drinks for two."

He nodded and dug out four small plates, two bowls,

two glasses, spoons, forks, knives. By the end he was
close to tears or a temper tantrum, and he had no idea
why. Ap had been preparing the food while Greg set the

table, and now he dished it up.

"I hope you're hungry."
He wasn't, but... Ap was trying; he probably should,

too. "It smells good."

"It is good. Venison stew. I'll teach you to make it."
"Can you point me to the toilet, please?"
"Sure. It's just past the stairs. I'll wait 'til you're back

to start."

"Cool."
He made it into the little half bath, closed the door,

and then hit himself, hard, right under the jaw. That
made things so much clearer. He did it again. Then
again.

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Then he pissed and washed his hands. "I miss you,

Tim. Every day."

Tim didn't answer back.

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Chapter Three

Ap woke at his usual time for summer, around seven

a.m.

He stretched and thought about last night. Dinner had

been awkward, Gregory hardly eating, though he had
managed a few bites of stew and two slices of
homemade bread. There was a deep sadness in the man,
disguised by anger, by disinterest.

He knew he'd have to get beyond Gregory's defences.

But first, they'd both have to live through the first couple
of weeks. Gregory had been shaking and grey when the
man had gone to bed, but every response had been
unfailingly polite. Ap needed to get through that, he
needed for the man to trust him.

There was healing that needed to happen before

anything else could.

He got up and stretched, padded over to his dresser to

pull out underwear and a pair of jeans. He could smell
coffee from the maker, which he had programmed to
start automatically. He wondered if Gregory would
smell it and take it as his cue to get up as well.

He wondered if Greg had slept at all.
Grabbing a t-shirt, Ap headed down to the kitchen

without bothering to put it on.

Greg was in a towel, on the back porch, doing pull

ups using one of the beams, the dogs sitting there,
watching him. Up, down, up, down -- the motions were

fluid, the man shining with sweat, even in the cool
morning air. He admired the lean body for a long
moment. He'd allow the towel, because mosquito bites
on sensitive areas were a real bitch.

Then the leg curls started, Greg holding himself up

the entire time, wearing himself down.

Ap got tired just watching, and he finally opened the

door and called out to Greg. "Okay. Enough."

"I have four more sets." Was that an argument?
"I said enough, boy."
The short legs slowly lowered, Gregory easing

himself down, muscles shaking.

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"Kitchen. For breakfast." And Greg was going to sit

there until he ate enough to fuel a man who woke up to
pull ups and leg curls.

Greg nodded, gulping in air for a minute before

shambling toward the kitchen. Their show gone, the
dogs headed for the woods, no doubt looking for
something to chase. Ap just hoped they still remembered
their lesson from last year involving a very unhappy
skunk. He and the dogs had been even unhappier by the
end of it.

"There's oats. We can make oatmeal if you prefer.

Toast, eggs and sausages." Greg could start with the
cereal, though.

"I'm easy when it comes to food. Not a picky eater at

all. What would you like?" The words were husky, raw,
weirdly desolate.

"I like raw oats with a few extras like raisins and

dried apricots thrown in and some milk. We can eat it
while the sausages are cooking." He took down a couple
of mugs and poured them each a cup of coffee.

"Okay. Thank you." Greg's jaw looked more bruised

today than yesterday.

"You fall?" He nodded toward Greg's face.
"No." Greg drank his coffee.
"Then what happened to your face?"
"It got hit."
"By what?"
Gregory shrugged, looked away from him. "A couple

of fists. I'm okay."

He frowned, not liking what Greg wasn't telling him.

"I know Oliver didn't hit you. And neither did I."

"No. No, I had a fight a few days ago and then..."

Gregory shrugged. "It'll heal up."

Ap grunted. "If anyone's going to leave bruises on

you from here on in, it'll be me." If it meant he had to
bind the man's hands when they weren't together, so be
it.

He put the sausage on and then filled two bowls with

oats, dried cranberries and nuts. The raisins and apricots
were still out in the truck.

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"You can put your towel on the chair, but it comes

off your waist."

"Okay." There was a dark bruise just visible on one

pointed hipbone. Another one. He couldn't let it go.

"Are you hurting yourself?" He met Greg's eyes.
Greg looked away. "I'll heal."
"And you won't hurt yourself anymore. That's an

order, boy." He didn't get an answer to that, just a soft
sigh. "I mean it." Hell, he more than meant it; he'd said it
twice now, after all.

"I heard you."
"How about a 'yes, sir', so I know that." He wasn't

necessarily a hard ass, but Greg needed the discipline
and the routine that came from sweating the small
details.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Now eat your cereal."
"Yes, sir." Gregory ate slowly, head down, the

hacked at hair long enough up front to hang in his face.

Ap started eating his own breakfast. "Have you ever

had your head shaved?"

"No." The man sounded so lost again, almost dead

inside. Ap wanted to get through to Greg, to help him
find himself again.

He finished his cereal and moved to the stove. The

sausages were almost done. "How do you like your
eggs?"

"How do you usually cook them?"
"I like 'em over easy, but I'm happy to make 'em for

you however like them." Eggs were pretty easy to cook,
and he wanted Greg to eat them.

"Over medium, please. Thank you."
"No, problem."
He made short work of the toast, the eggs and

sausages, dishing them up and placing Greg's in front of
him. He was going to fatten the man up.

"Thank you." Greg ate a bit, mostly toast, the man

silent.

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"Eat some of the eggs and sausage, Greg. You need

the protein." He had a hunch Greg wasn't deliberately
starving himself, the man was just... empty.

Greg nodded, moving the food around his plate,

nibbling. Ap snorted, but didn't say anything. Some food
had made it into the man, and he imagined that was
more than Greg usually got down him.

Finally, his eggs and sausage were finished, and Greg

stood, doing the dishes without being asked.

Ap checked Greg out while the man was busy, taking

in the details. Gregory moved with careful quiet, totally
in his own head, still and weirdly empty. He was too
thin and there were scars and bruises. He had a great ass.
He was muscled, so lean that every striation showed. A
short, thick cock hung at his groin, heavy, gold curls
crowning it.

"What's your type?" Ap found that he was suddenly

curious.

"Type of what?"
"What kind of men are you attracted to?"
"I don't know anymore." Just listen to how lost Greg

sounded.

"So my taking away the privilege of jacking off isn't

a real hardship then?"

Greg actually frowned. "What does one have to do

with the other?"

"You don't fantasize when you jack off?" He'd have

guessed that not knowing what his type meant indicated
that Greg didn't jack off at all, rather than he didn't
fantasize while doing it.

"I try not to."
"So it's just a bodily function, like going to the

bathroom?" Did Greg have nothing good or fun or
positive in his life?

"That's a good way to put it. Just relieving pressure."
"Well. You won't be doing that anymore."
They were going to do scenes. Ap was going to find

what made Greg happy, what turned him on. And they
were going to do it. Maybe not soon, but it was going to
happen, because Greg needed to remember that there

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was more to life than a collection of bodily functions to
be endured.

Gregory nodded. "I didn't this morning."
"Excellent."
There was almost a smile from Greg.
Almost.
"So I'm going to give you daily chores." He wanted

Greg to be occupied, to be physically tired at the end of
each day. Even if Greg's mind wasn't still, if his body
was utterly exhausted, he'd sleep.

"Okay." Gregory nodded. "I'm capable of work."
"I don't doubt it. Besides, I don't want you to be

bored. Idle hands and all that." What Greg didn't need
was lots of time to sit and think and make himself crazy.

"Can I have my phone? It has my music on it."
"We'll transfer your music to my computer. That way

you can listen to it from anywhere in the house."
Because no. There would be no contact with the outside
world.

"Okay."
Ap was tired of hearing 'okay' already and it hadn't

even been twenty-four hours yet.

"How about 'yes, sir'."
"Yes, sir." There was emotion there, though, behind

the words. A response. Focus.

"I'll swat your ass every time you forget it, boy."
One of Greg's eyebrows went up, and for a second

there was a flash of anger. It was such a welcome
change to the sullen deadness. Ap waited for Greg to
decide if he was going to go with the anger or not.

"No problem."
"That's one."
"One what? I didn't say okay."
"You forgot the sir."
"Sorry, sir. I didn't know that was part of the deal."

There was fury, right under the surface.

"I'm your sir, always. I thought that was clear, but I'll

let it go, just this once." Frankly, he thought Greg
wanted a good, long beating.

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"No. I meant..." Greg took a breath and went back to

the dishes.

"Stop. Finish what you were saying."
"It wasn't anything." Greg continued to wash the

dishes with slow, methodical movements.

"I'll be the judge of that. Finish it." He hated half-

sentences. Especially from subs. It was usually what was
unsaid that was exactly what needed to be said and
heard.

One dish was placed in the drainer. "I meant that I

didn't realize you wanted sir after every sentence, sir."

He thought about that. "Would it bother you that if

that's what I want?"

"No. I just want to know the rules, sir."
"That's fair." He considered it a moment longer. "If

we're discussing this kind of thing, your answers should

include the sir, so that I know you've understood. If
we're having supper and shooting the shit, it's not
necessary. When in doubt, use it." That seemed more
than fair to him.

"Okay, sir."
"And from now on, every time you say 'okay', you

get spanked. Now, I've got a few chores that happen
outside -- I've got overalls and a work shirt for you to
wear when you do them." The mosquitoes weren't that
bad as long as you covered up.

Greg nodded. "Excellent, sir. Do I get boots?"
"Yeah. There's some wellies you can use for now, but

tell me your size and I'll order you a pair of proper work

boots."

"Don't bother. I have a pair in my bag."
"Cool, I'll dig them out when we're done here. There

mostly needs to be wood chopped. Lots and lots of
wood. The fireplace does most of the heating; I like my
room cold in the winter, for sleeping."

Gregory nodded, finished the dishes. "I'm ready when

you are."

"Let's get your boots, then, and the clothes you'll

wear outside." He led the way out of the kitchen. "Do
you like reading? Playing chess?"

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"I've never played chess. I play a lot of solitaire."

Greg had obviously not been the easiest of men to have
as a sub, but clearly he'd been left on his own and idle
far too much.

"I'll have to teach you, then. I quite enjoy it." And he

had a feeling there was a keen mind hidden there.

"Oka-- Sure. Sir."
He opened the closet in the front hall and took out

Greg's backpack. Going through it, he found and pulled
out the work boots. Then he took a pair of overalls and a
work shirt down off the shelf. "See if these fit."

Greg shrugged them on. They were too big, but with

the cuffs rolled up they worked. "Point me to the wood
pile."

"No more than two hours at a time without a break

and no more than four hours a day, got it? I've got a

timer you can use." He found that, handed it over, and
then led Gregory out to the back.

"There will be days we need to go into the bush and

haul out more deadwood, downed trees, etcetera. But
there's a lot to work on here for now." Ap pointed out
where the logs were stacked, where the split kindling
went.

"No problem." Greg nodded, headed for the axe

sitting in the cutting log.

Ap leaned against the railing on the veranda. He had

to make sure Gregory knew what he was doing. An

accident with the axe out here could be fatal, especially
since it could take hours to get to medical attention.

Greg started splitting wood, swinging the axe easily,

muscled body moving with efficiency.

Ap couldn't help but admire the man's form and

imagine how Gregory might look bound, body straining
to meet blows.

After the first ten minutes, Gregory stripped the shirt

off, going back to work.

"You want some bug repellent?" The man was going

to get eaten alive without the shirt on.

"If there's some handy, fine. If not, that's cool." Greg

never stopped working.

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"There is always bug repellent handy. Because we

have two seasons up here. Winter and bugs." There was
a can or two of heavy duty bug spray by every door. He
reached in and grabbed one for Greg.

One log split after another. The man was a machine.
"Stop." He waited until he had Greg's attention, and

then he tossed the spray. "Catch."

Greg caught it, sprayed himself quickly, then set the

can aside. "Thank you."

"No problem."
He watched as Greg went back to chopping. It really

was a delight to watch the man move. He'd be amazing
in a scene. Ap hadn't planned on starting anything until
they'd had a chance to get to know each other a bit, until
Greg had had a chance to settle in. It was tempting,
though.

Greg hummed under his breath, never looking away

from the wood, never looking back at Ap.

"Come find me when the timer goes off," he ordered.
He went back into the house, going to his desk and

opening his laptop. He didn't unhibernate it, though.
Instead, he just stared out the window, considering his
options.

***

His hands were bleeding by the time the timer went

off, and Greg found he didn't care. He cut another two
logs, then picked up the timer, headed in. He could
easily have kept going.

"Once you've stripped, join me in my office."
Greg nodded, going to wash his hands. Of course, he

realized once he'd washed the blood off enough not to
ruin the overalls, that he didn't have the slightest idea
where the office was.

"Over here at the desk near the fire, Greg." He

thought maybe Ap sounded like he was trying not to

laugh.

Great. The man thought he was stupid as well as

crazy. Maybe that was for the best. He headed over, a

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song playing in his head. The living room and Ap's
office were part of the same space, the desk tucked in
next to the fire, but still off to the side enough that it
didn't block the big couch's view of the fireplace. The
furniture was all heavy, solid, the walls dark wood
panelling, and there were those huge windows
everywhere, letting in the light.

Ap frowned as he approached. "What happened to

your hands?"

"I washed them."
"Come here. Let me see."
He went over, held his hands out. He hadn't wielded

an axe in fifteen years.

"You could have said something, you know." Ap

took one hand in his, the touch gentle, but firm at the
same time.

What was he supposed to say to that? He knew. He

didn't care. He'd been in the zone, empty, moving, not
thinking.

"Sit." Ap got up and went to a closet, opening it and

pulling out a large first aid kit.

Greg sat gingerly, his muscles shaky. Ap knelt in

front of him and took his hand again, spraying his palms
with something that was cold. His fingers curled
instinctively.

"Hurt?"
"It's cold." He needed to move.
"It'll ease in a minute." Ap wrapped both hands in

gauze.

"I can't do chores like this."
"Then you don't do chores until they're better."
"I can work." God, he hated being bored.
One of Ap's eyebrows went up. "You just said you

can't."

He closed his eyes, counted to thirty. "Not with the

gauze stuff."

Ap chuckled. "Then don't worry about the work."
"What would you like me to do now?"
"What would you say to a scene?"

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"I'm here. You're here. I'll try to satisfy." He wouldn't

actually do it -- he never did, one disappointed and
frustrated master after another proved that -- but he'd
try.

"Such enthusiasm."
"What do you want? I'm trying very hard to be

decent." There was nothing left inside him to give. Even
Tim wasn't with him anymore. Hadn't been since that
last day in Oliver's dungeon. Fucker. Leaving when Tim
had promised he wouldn't.

"I want a real reaction. You're not dead."
"No. I don't know what you want. I'm just tired."
"I want you to find yourself again.'
"I probably suck."
"What makes you say that?"
He looked at Ap, incredulous. "Man, a guy had to call

in a favor to get you to bring me up here. No one wants
me. No one. The only reason Oliver gives a shit it
because Tim was a good man. It isn't about me."

"Really? If it wasn't about you, Oliver could have

washed his hands of you a long time ago. Is that the real
you, though? You're still reeling from Tim's death. I
think you work very hard to make sure no one wants
you."

He shook his head. He wasn't talking about that. It

was none of Ap's business.

"What kind of scenes used to bring you the most

satisfaction?"

"I don't know." He didn't like to think about it, to

remember.

"Did you ever find your subspace?"
His lips twitched. "Maybe I was a crappy sub. I tried

to do the right thing."

"That's all anyone can ask for."
Then why did it still hurt all the time? He sat there,

trying to remember how to breathe.

"I've got some emails to answer. You can kneel next

to me, head down, hands behind your back until I'm
done. Then I'll show you my... dungeon for better want
of a word."

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God, how boring. He knelt down, fingers digging into

his sore palms, telling himself stories about the things
he'd wanted to be when he was younger.

He didn't know how long Ap spent working at the

laptop on his desk, but eventually he pushed back from
his desk and patted Greg's head. "Well done. I get the
feeling stillness doesn't come naturally to you."

His immediate reaction was to snap, but he didn't, he

bit his tongue hard, forced himself to stay silent.

"No comment?"
"Th..." God, his throat was dry. "Thanks, sir."
He missed Tim. He missed feeling like a real person.
Ap's hand slid over his head again. "If I asked, would

you tell me what you honestly wanted, boy?"

"To go home." But he didn't have one.
"Where's home?"

He shook his head. It had been Tim. "I haven't found

it. What do you want me to do now? My hands are
better."

"I want us to decide on a goal for you, and I think

we've just discovered what it should be. We'll find out
where or what home is for you." Ap nodded down the
hall. "Come see my dungeon."

He nodded, but he couldn't move. His legs were

sound asleep, the muscles overworked and sore.

Ap took a few steps and then stopped, turning around

and looking at him. "Greg?"

He shook his head, looking at the floor. Just shoot

him now.

"What's the problem?"
"I'm trying."
Ap's head tilted. "To follow me? Then what's the

problem?"

"My fucking legs are asleep, okay? I broke my back a

few years ago. They'll wake up. Just give me a second."
He slammed his hands on his thighs, the dual pain
bright.

"Greg..." Ap came and crouched in front of him.

"Why didn't you just tell me they'd fallen asleep? I'm not
a mind-reader."

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He wouldn't look. He just wanted to scream.
"Greg. Do you want to be punished? Is that it? Do

you need it so badly you're just going to kneel there and
refuse to answer my questions except in annoyed
outbursts?"

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what the fuck

to do!"

Ap grunted and stood, leaned over him and picked

him up, arms beneath his legs and his shoulders,
carrying him down the hall.

His breath caught, his eyes rolling a little. What the

fuck?

Ap shouldered open a door. "Your legs are hardly

going to come back to life with you still kneeling there.
You need to talk to me, Greg. Let me know if
something's wrong, tell me what's going on with you."

"Everything's wrong! Everything's wrong with me."

Damn it.

Ap nodded and shouldered his way through a door at

the other end of the house. "You need to find your
center, your balance."

"I don't have one. He died." He died and left

everything undone.

Ap pressed their foreheads together. "Your master

died. He wasn't your center, though, Greg. Your true

center is inside yourself. His job was to find it, to lead
you there. And it's time to mourn him and to move on.
He wouldn't have wanted you to be lost like this."

The only way to avoid Ap's gaze was to close his

eyes, so he did. He should have died. He should have
been strong enough to kill himself. He shouldn't have
been left here, all alone and hurting.

"How long were you together?" Ap asked, lying him

down on a padded table that put him about waist high.
Strong hands helped stretch his legs out.

"A few months. With this, just a few weeks." Six. Six

weeks of hard work, of trying to find a place to belong,
of trying to make sense of things.

"That almost makes it worse, doesn't it? That it was

such a short time." Why did Ap have to sound so

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understanding? Why couldn't he just scream and yell
and kick Greg out like everyone else had?

He shrugged, nodded. "I don't know what to do."
Ap's hands began to slide over his legs, warm and

firm, working his muscles. "We'll figure it out, Greg. I'm
not going to give up on you."

"Everyone gives up." Even he'd given up.
"I'm not everyone, boy." Those touches continued,

firm and sure, working his muscles through the pins and
needles of his legs waking back up.

His legs started to jerk and twitch as they woke up.

Oh. It stung.

"Turn over so I can do the backs of them."
He turned, biting his lips against the groan that

wanted out. Ap continued massaging him, helping to
ease the pain.

"Maybe you should start by telling me a little bit

about how you and Tim worked together. Oliver told me
you were in a full time master/slave relationship."

"We were. We met after my accident. He was there,

all the time. We fell in love." That was when Tim
showed him about how pain and passion worked
together, about how much he'd needed to be Tim's slave.

"Tell me about how you served him, what he did for

you." The touches continued, never faltered. Ap's hands

were solid, warm.

"I can't. I... that's like dishonoring him or something."
"If you won't tell me, I'll be working blind. I can do

that; it will just take longer to find what you need, help
you get to your subspace." Ap's voice was low and soft,
almost hypnotizing, especially when coupled with the
firm, sure touches on his legs and back.

"I just wanted to let go. He wanted me to do things."
"You wanted to lose yourself in the pain?"
"I don't know. I don't know how it worked." And that

made him furious. "But no one else makes it work. I try
to do what I'm told, and it doesn't work! I try to hurt, and
it doesn't work!"

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"All right. It's all right. We'll find our way. I told you

I'm not giving up on you, and I meant it. We'll figure it
out."

Ap's touches moved up to his ass, fingers digging

into the muscles there.

"What if it was him?" Gregory buried his head in his

arms. "What if it was just him?" And he was just alone.
Tim didn't even talk to him anymore. Maybe Oliver had
sent him away because Oliver knew Tim couldn't follow
him up here.

"Maybe he was a big part of what you had with him,

but the lifestyle can work for you without him. You
need to find that place inside you where the peace is. It
may take longer to get there, and it may not be exactly
the same thing, but you'll find the peace you need." Ap
sounded very sure.

Greg didn't believe it, though. He didn't think he

could.

The massage continued upward, along his spine.

"Will you tell me about what happened to your back?"

"I was doing a jump, I missed the bag. Sheared three

vertebrae, bruised my spine. I was in therapy for
months." Tim had been there, every day. Pushing him to
be better. Caring.

"Ouch. Did you lose any mobility? Aside from your

muscles seizing up when your master doesn't know and
makes you kneel for long periods of time."

"Not once the swelling went down. Now it's tingling

and aching, stiffness sometimes."

"I have a hot tub. The jets will do you well at the end

of a busy day. As long as you don't have abrasions on

your skin like you currently have on your hands, of
course." The warm massage spread up to his shoulders.

He found himself close to crying, so he tensed,

fingers digging into his palms.

Ap's fingers stopped for the first time since the

massage had started. "What?"

"I don't want to cry. I don't want to."
"There's no shame in crying, Greg."
"I don't want to cry." He took a shuddering breath.

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"Why not?" The massage started up again, Ap's

fingers pushing into his neck.

"I don't WANT to." Don't relax. Don't.
"I want you to tell me why you don't want to." Those

fingers didn't let up, not for a second.

"I don't want to." He gulped in air. He wanted up. He

needed up.

Ap wasn't letting him up, though. "That's not an

answer to my question."

"Let me up. I can't breathe."
"Yes, you can. You are breathing."
"I can't..." He tried to get his hands under him, to

push up, push away.

"Stay where you are." One hand slid between his

shoulders, holding him there while the massage
continued with the other hand. "Tell me why you don't

want to cry."

"I can't. Please." The panic was coming, making his

feet numb.

"Tell me why. Tell me."
He gasped, hyperventilating. If he started, he'd never

stop. Never.

"Just tell me, Greg. Why don't you want to cry?"
"I can't stop!" He jerked back against Ap's hand, and

the man didn't move.

"You think you can't, but you can." Those fingers

were forcing the muscles in his neck to ease.

He couldn't relax. He couldn't. "No..."
"You need to let go of the tension, Greg."
"Please..." Ap's hand was like a block of iron against

him.

"You can let it go, Greg. I'll be right here. As long as

it takes."

He screamed, fighting blindly, kicking and bucking,

all control lost until the world went black.

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Chapter Four

Ap had never met anyone who was hurting as badly

as Greg. Ap turned the man over, checked to make sure
he was breathing.

Greg was.
Ap shook his head; Greg was going to fight him

every step of the way, he could tell. Maybe it was what
the man needed. He went back to massaging, to giving
Greg simple contact. Touch. It didn't matter that Greg
was unconscious; his body would feel the comfort, the
connection.

Ap knew the man had been hard to deal with, but

still. It was clear Greg was hurting, to toss him back at
Oliver after only a week or two of trying was criminal.
He wasn't the kind of man to tell other masters how to

care for their subs, but how could so many have failed
Greg so badly? It was clear to him that this man needed
touch and contact more than anyone he'd ever met.
Needed someone who could spend days right there with
him.

Lucky for Greg, Ap was just that man.
Greg woke slowly, blinking, the look worried.
"Glad to have you back." He stroked Greg's cheek.
"I'm sorry." Greg shuddered, tried to sit up.
"No, no. You're fine. I asked you to let it out, and you

did." He put his hand on Greg's shoulder, keeping Greg
there.

Greg leaned back, clearly already off center.
"How are you feeling?" He started rubbing Greg's

shoulders again, thumbs rubbing along Greg's
collarbones.

"My head hurts."
Ap imagined so. He slid his hands up along Greg's

head, rubbing Greg's scalp, and pondered cuffing them

together. It would certainly solve the need for constant
contact. The rough-hewn hair was tangled, sweaty,
sticking to his fingers.

"You need a shower once your legs will support you

again." He liked showers. He could soap Greg up.

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And while he'd like to pretend to be all altruistic and

shit, there was nothing altruistic about the way his prick
perked up at the thought.

"Okay. I can do that." Greg looked at him. "I got mad

and cut it."

He grinned. "That's kind of like cutting off your nose

to spite your face, isn't it? Unless of course you like the
hacked off with a saw look. If that's the case, congrats,
you hit it on the head."

"It was in my way."
It was hard not to chuckle at that. "In your way

how?"

"Oliver had given me to someone who kept bitching

about keeping my head down and then being annoyed at
it hiding my face. I offered to shave it off." Greg
shrugged.

"It might still come to that if you want it neatened

up." He kept rubbing Greg's scalp. "Conflicting
messages like that aren't fair." Sometimes it happened
because you didn't realize you were sending mixed
messages, but once it was pointed out... of course, there
was no guarantee that's what Greg had done.

"No." Greg looked at him. "I'm trying to do what Tim

would have wanted. I'm trying to be good at this. I'm
just not."

"Is it what you want, though?" Ap had a feeling Greg

needed it, but if his only motivation was to make his
dead lover happy...

"No. I mean, I do, but not..." Greg stopped, pinched

himself hard. "It doesn't matter."

"Stop that." He soothed the skin Greg had pinched.

"If anyone's going to hurt you it's going to be me. And
what you have to say matters. Always."

Greg's belly tensed. "I just want what Tim said I

could find, you know? He said this would be good work,
that I was made for it."

"And then he abandoned you to it before you'd truly

found what you were looking for." Ap would bet Greg
felt guilty for thinking his master had abandoned him,
too. Tim hadn't died on purpose, after all. Ap kept

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touching, not really massaging anymore, just making
sure they stayed in contact.

"I'll go take a shower, get out of your hair."
"No, we'll take it together. I've decided we'll be

spending a lot of time together for the next while." He
helped Greg to sit slowly up.

"My legs are awake."
"Good for your legs. That doesn't change what I

said." This boy didn't need time alone. Didn't need
space. Ap wouldn't give it to him.

"Come on." He put his arm around Greg's shoulders

and helped Greg get down off the padded table.

He led them down the hall, into the master bedroom,

then the master bath. His shower was large, with two
heads, one high, one that hit near his hips.

Greg looked, frowned. "That one's low."

"Yeah. It's nice on the lower back." He'd bet it would

feel great over Greg's back, where he'd been hurt. "Or
other places." Ap turned both showerheads on. "You
like it fairly warm?"

"Yes." Greg looked shell shocked. "You're being nice

to me."

He wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I'm the bad one who Oliver's looking for

someone to control."

Was that how Greg had been made to feel? "I prefer

making my own mind up about people."

"Me, too."
Ap thought they may have just made a tiny

connection. He smiled and patted Greg on the ass. Then
he got the water adjusted to exactly where he wanted it
and pushed Greg into the spray.

Greg moved into the water, washing himself briskly,

nails scoring his skin, leaving red scratch marks behind.

"No, no. This isn't a punishment." He grabbed the

soap and lathered it up between his hands. Then he
began to rub them over Greg's skin. Greg took a deep,
shuddering breath.

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Ap moved slowly, doing a thorough job of it; he

wanted to touch Greg everywhere. He could see the
concern in Greg's face, the worry. Like Greg simply
didn't know how to respond. He just kept touching,
spending extra time on Greg's belly, on Greg's cock and
balls. Greg's hands opened and closed, the gauze falling
away beneath the water, soap and his own ministrations.

He bent and grabbed the gauze, putting it on the side

of the tub before cleaning Greg's legs, soaping them up.
"I..." Greg looked at him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Get clean." He winked and lifted one foot, cleaning

underneath it and between the toes. Then he did the
other.

"You. That's..." Greg wrapped his arms around

himself.

"You can finish those sentences of yours, you know.

You don't need to censor your thoughts unless you've
been instructed to." Greg had no reason to fear him. Of
course, the man had no reason to trust him yet, either.

"It's very intimate, touching me there. I. Tim. He.

Once. He." Greg started to panic again.

"Here?" He ran his hand along Greg's sole again,

along the toes on Greg's other foot. Then he stood, hands
sliding along Greg's arms. "What did Tim do?"

"I can't. Do you. He marked me. I. It was the only

time we." Greg started backing away. "I have to get out
of here."

"No. You're staying." He wrapped his arms around

Greg and met his sub's eyes. "It was the only time you
what?"

"It was the only time it was... He caned them. My

feet. So I'd stay still, for him."

"Did it make you mad?" Or had Greg liked it. Had he

needed it

"No." Greg shook his head.
"It was the most intimate thing you did together?"
"We had sex. A lot, but... That was something..." He

shrugged. "I'll never forget."

"It had weight to it."

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It had shown Greg he was more than just a body for

sex.

"I thought I'd hate him."
"But you didn't. Because he saw you."
Greg's turned his face away, hiding.
"It's scary, isn't it? Being seen." He saw Greg. Maybe

not all of him, but Ap was going to work at it until he
did. And until Greg knew he was seen.

"Yeah. I need to get out of here."
"No. That's not going to happen." He tugged Greg

back into the spray of water, letting it sluice off the soap
from the fine limbs.

Greg didn't fight him, but there was worry there.

Stress. Fear.

"What do you think is going to happen if you stay

right here, right now?"

"I just need to be by myself a minute."
"No, I think that's the last thing that you need." Greg

had been left on his own far too much. Ap was sure of it.

"I could chop more of your wood. Be useful."
"With the blisters on your hands? I don't think so.

Even with work-gloves on, we'll wait until you've
healed." Had Tim really been the last person to make an
effort to keep Greg present? To touch him? To make
sure the man didn't run away and hide from himself and
everything else?

Every master was different, and very few had nothing

but time to offer a sub. Not to mention, most subs
weren't in as dire straits as Greg was. It was good that
Oliver had called him. He had the space, the time, the
will. And he wanted to help Greg.

"We'll just stay under the spray a little longer." He

leaned back against the tiles, bringing Greg in to lean
against him.

Greg tensed, and Ap waited the man out. He kept his

touches light, gentle, focusing on the connection. You
couldn't start with physical pain, not like this; Greg had
enough emotional pain to keep their bases covered. The
physical pain would come later, when Greg's body
remembered how to relax. It took long minutes, but the

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tension started to leave again, the heavy muscles shaking
violently as they fought.

"I've got you," he murmured quietly. "It's okay. I

won't let go."

"I don't know what to do." Greg's body figured it out,

though, leaning heavily, letting him offer support and
comfort.

"That's it, Greg. Just rest for a moment."
Slowly, surely, Greg would relax, would learn he

didn't have to be busy every second of every day. All the
man needed to do was focus, breathe, and trust that Ap
would be there.

And Ap had the staying power to wait Greg out. It

was one of his best features as a Dom -- patience.

***

Greg woke up in the middle of the night in someone

else's bed, held in someone's arms. He enjoyed it only
for a few heartbeats, then he slid from the bed. He
needed to work before his mind started working. And
possibly eat something. Christ, he was starving.

"Where are you going?" Ap's voice was rough, but

Greg thought it was from sleep, not anger.

"I was going to get something to eat and get some

work done. Go back to sleep."

Ap got up, coming over and taking his hand before

heading him out of the homey room with the huge bed
and toward the stairs to the kitchen. "What work?"

"I. You said the yard needed work." And even if Ap

hadn't, Greg bet it needed it. Yards always needed work.
He thought people kept yards just to have busywork at
hand.

Ap's hand was warm.
"Yes, but I haven't assigned it to you. In fact, I

believe I said something about when your hands were
better you could work again."

They got to the kitchen, Raspberry and Bernie

greeting them with wagging tails and drooling tongues.
He stopped to say good morning to them both.

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Ap opened the fridge. "There's leftover stew."
From what he could see, the refrigerator looked like

it was well-stocked. "You like to cook?"

"I do. How about you?"
Greg looked at Ap, unwilling to lie again. "I haven't

in a really long time, no." Maybe Ap had forgotten he'd
said he didn't know how, or at least wouldn't bring it up
if he did remember. It wasn't something that had brought
Greg any enjoyment in a long time, that much was true,
anyway.

"Would you like to relearn?"
"To like to cook?"
Ap grinned at him, chuckled a little. "Relearn how to

cook, I mean. To enjoy putting together the food you
eat."

"I don't know if I can enjoy it, but I can help you."

"I'd like that. And you enjoying it isn't compulsory.

But why do you think you wouldn't?"

Ap pulled the pot with the stew out of the fridge and

grabbed a bowl, half-filling it and sticking it in the
microwave. Then he grabbed the loaf of homemade
bread and cut off a nice slab.

Greg didn't have an answer, so he went to make

coffee.

"Coffee?" Ap shook his head. "No, you're not going

to be able to get back to sleep if you have coffee now."

"I won't be sleeping again. I slept." Probably more

than he had in a very long time, too. And he hadn't had
any nightmares. When was the last time that had
happened?

"Then you can lie in bed with me and rest your

body." He noticed Ap didn't tell him he had to sleep.

He was in the position of not knowing what to do

again. It was incredibly unnerving.

The microwave dinged, and Ap took the bowl out,

put it on the table with the slab of bread. "There you are.
If you're still hungry after that, there's peaches."

"Are you hungry?" The man didn't need to feed him.
"No. I'm holding out for breakfast. We'll make

biscuits." Ap sat down in the chair next to his.

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"I. You don't have to feed me."
"I know." Ap reached out and touched his hand, then

squeezed his thigh.

He didn't know what to do. At all. So he grabbed a

piece of bread, tore it into pieces, and dipped it into the
stew, eating heartily.

Ap seemed content to just sit there with him.
Before he knew it, the bowl was empty, the bread

gone, along with two big bowls of canned peaches, and
he was full and sleepy, head bobbing.

"Come on, let's go back to bed." Ap's hand wrapped

around his again, but carefully enough he barely felt the
sting.

"I." He found himself following along, eyelids heavy.
At the stairs, Ap stopped and swept him up off his

feet into the man's arms.

He jerked, surprised. "What?" Fuck, Ap was strong.

So strong.

"You looked sleepy." Ap smiled at him, climbing the

stairs.

"I. I am. I'm so tired." His soul was tired. "I'm sorry."
Ap chuckled and laid him down in the bed, climbing

in with him. "Just go back to sleep."

"I..." He blinked, then Ap's fingers closed his eyes.

"Oh."

His stupid body shifted, curled into Ap's warmth.

Those strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him
safe.

Keeping him right there.

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Chapter Five

"The trick with bread is making sure the ingredients

are measured correctly." They were going to make
bread, him and Greg. "The machine does all the work. If
you wind up enjoying making it, I'll teach you to do it
all by hand. There's something very therapeutic about
kneading dough."

"I know." The words were quiet, almost shyly offered

over.

"Yeah? You used to make bread?"
They'd spent the last couple of days together,

sleeping together, Ap touching Greg as much as
possible, not giving him time to be alone, lonely.

"I was in culinary school once." The little gems were

offered like state secrets, and Ap filed each and every

one away.

"How did you move from culinary school to

stuntwork?" It was important not to make a big deal
about it when he got information from Greg -- that was
when the man would clam up again. It was also why Ap
didn't call Greg on his having said outright that he didn't
cook.

"I met a guy at a bar one night, one thing led to

another and I got work."

"And you've never missed the cooking? Or did

something happen to sour you on it?" He didn't start the

bread yet; he'd learned the hard way that if he got
distracted and missed an ingredient, things went wrong.

"I cooked for Tim, just a little. He was... I don't really

want to talk about it. I'm sorry."

He imagined if they'd had a true master/slave

relationship, it had been a part of Greg's duties. Ap
didn't want to push too hard to get Greg to open up, not
when Greg was already sharing more than he usually did
and they were having a good time together.

"Well, then, let's make bread."
"Okay."
He looked at Greg, who blushed dark.
"Yes, sir."

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"Better." He swatted Greg gently on the ass. "All

right. You go ahead and put in the ingredients, and I'll
supervise."

"Okay." Greg moved confidently, measuring and

putting things together easily. And the man had said he
couldn't cook.

Ap enjoyed watching; that confidence was sexy. He

also noted the extra 'okay'. The spanking could come
later.

Greg put the bread in the machine, cleaned up. "What

do you need me to do now?"

"What kinds of movies do you like watching?"
"Scary movies."
He wasn't sure what that said about Greg -- the scary

movies, the angry music, the self-abuse. Everything
seemed designed to keep him a prisoner to his anger and

his sadness.

"You don't like romantic comedies?" He couldn't help

but tease as he grabbed Greg's hand and led him toward
the living room with the fireplace and the big screen TV.

Greg snorted, "Right. I'm the funny type."
"I was thinking more the romantic type."
"Me?" Greg looked honestly confused.
"I was teasing you, Greg. Though I do believe there's

room for a little romance in everyone."

He sat Greg down on the big leather couch and went

to his movie collection. Greg curled into the corner of
the sofa, quiet and still, eyes on him.

He pulled out The Ring and slid it into the DVD

player before going back to sit with Greg. He sat close
to the man, pulling Greg up against him. Greg was tense
for only a second or two, then the stiffness eased. Every
day it happened faster, Greg trusting his touch.

They settled in together, Ap sliding his hand over

Greg's belly. He tugged the curls under Greg's navel, not
enough to sting, just enough to sensitize the man's skin,
and Greg wiggled a bit, murmured softly.

Smiling, he did it again.
Greg's cock actually jerked. That was the first real

response he'd seen while Greg was awake. Over the last

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few days, he'd noticed the man getting hard in the night,
rubbing against him. Ap didn't make a big deal of it, just
gave one more tug and then went back to stroking the
lovely abdomen.

Greg stayed still, relaxing into him, eyes on the TV,

even chuckling once at the movie.

Ap shook his head. "This movie isn't scary for you, is

it?"

"No. I like it, though. It has a nice visual."
"I'm not huge on horror movies." He always felt like

he needed to watch them, though, that it was a guy thing
to do. Which he knew was stupid, but that didn't stop
him from buying them and periodically watching them.

"I don't watch ghost movies very much."
He gave Greg a one-armed hug. Greg shrugged,

looked down. Sighed.

"You're allowed to be sad or pissed off about it."
Greg shrugged again, tried to pull away. He didn't let

it happen, though, his arm staying firmly around Greg's
body.

It only took a few minutes for Greg to relax again,

begin to breathe. Ap went back to sliding his hand over
Greg's belly. Greg began to breathe with him, in and out,
slowly, steadily. Ap was pretty sure that Greg had no
idea this was the kind of thing the lifestyle was all about,
that this was what people worked toward -- peace,
connection, togetherness.

"Mmm." He hummed softly, kept touching.
Greg's cock slowly began to fill, to rise. Ap dropped

a kiss on the top of Greg's head and let his fingertips
stroke over the growing prick.

Greg shivered. "I'm sorry. It won't not."
"You're apologizing for reacting to my touch?"
"I don't know. It's almost... strange."
"How come?" He wrapped his fingers around Greg's

prick, the hot silk sliding on his palm before he let it go.

"I don't know..." Greg reached down, thumped the

burgeoning erection hard. "I'm not ready."

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He cupped Greg's cock, hiding it from another attack.

"Your body is." He would break his boy from self-abuse
one way or the other.

"I'm not."
"You need to stop worrying things to death in your

mind." Greg thought far too much and didn't trust his
own body nearly enough.

Greg actually chuckled. "I have heard that before."
"Then maybe there's some truth to it, eh?"
Ap slid his fingers down to weigh Greg's balls. Soft

and fuzzy, heavy -- the sac felt delicious in his palm. He
rolled them gently, stroked them. Greg's heart began to
speed. He hummed softly, ran his hand back up Greg's
prick.

"What do you want me to do?"
"Just let what happens happen." Greg's body knew

what it needed, what it wanted. Greg didn't even have to
listen to it, just let it do what it was going to do.

"I'm a little wigged."
"Only a little?"
"Maybe a lot."
"So don't think about it." He nuzzled Greg's neck.
"Don't think." Greg swallowed hard, gasped.
"Yeah. Turn off the brain." He slid his hand up and

down Greg's cock, working it with long, slow strokes.

"Off." Greg's eyes were wide, staring at him.
"Let your body take control. It knows what you

need." He knew what Greg needed, too.

"No. No, I..." Greg groaned, tried to pull away.
He didn't let it happen. Instead, he took a kiss, soft

and gentle. Greg gasped into his lips, opened for him for
just a second. He slid his tongue through Greg's mouth
before gentling the kiss again. He kept his touch light,
more about sensation than getting off. In fact, getting off
wasn't the point at all.

His fingers explored, dropping down past Greg's balls

to lightly touch the skin beyond. Then he moved to
Greg's inner thighs, stroking the soft skin there. Greg
shivered, scooted back, forward, back again.

"Let the sensations flow over you."

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"I'm not good at this..."
"At just being?" He could see how the lifestyle would

be good for Greg, pull him out of his head, into his
body, into his subspace. If he'd found that with Tim and
then had it ripped away like he had...

"God, yes."
"This is good practice, then." He kept moving his

hand, exploring Greg's body and its reactions.

"Can't you just beat me or something?" Was that

humor?

He chuckled for Greg. "That's coming. For now,

we're doing this."

He focused on those soft, soft inner thighs, Greg's

body tensing so badly it almost vibrated. He pressed a
kiss along Greg's neck. Greg jerked, pulled away, like
he'd bitten the man. Mmm. Hot spot. He flicked his

tongue across it.

"I. Oh." Greg actually stood.
He didn't follow, just stared at the man and raised a

single eyebrow.

"I. Bathroom. I'll be right back."
"Yes, you will be." He said it sternly, in his best Dom

voice.

Gregory shivered, then disappeared. If his boy came

back and there were bruises tomorrow... He paused the
movie and kept an eye on the clock, ready to go growl if
he needed to. It took a few minutes, but Gregory came
back, face washed, cock deflated. That could change

again. Ap patted the couch next to him.

Gregory stepped closer. "Should I check the bread?"
It was a bread machine. It didn't need babysitting and

would beep when the bread was ready to come out.

"Sit back down, boy. We're watching a movie."
Greg sat, just out of reach.
"No, over here by me." He wasn't letting Greg off the

hook on this.

Greg's bare ass slid over the sofa. Carefully. Slowly.

He held up his arm so Greg could come cuddle next to
him. Greg's body was warm, solid. Ap let his hand slide
down to rest on Greg's belly again.

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He waited for the abs to quit rolling and shifting, for

Greg to accept him. Then he began stroking them again.

The action heated up on the TV, and Greg's eyes

were on the screen, but Ap had no doubt that all of
Greg's attention was on him. He kept stroking his fingers
along Greg's skin. Greg's belly goosepimpled, nipples
drawing up tight.

Ap slid his hand upward, thumb reaching for the

sweet nipple. Greg stopped breathing. Ap kept stroking,
but left his hand where it was. Slowly, Greg relaxed,
began to breathe. His hand began to creep up again. This
time, Greg didn't tense.

He flicked his thumb across Greg's right nipple. The

little bit of flesh went hard, like it was telling him hello.
Smiling, he flicked his finger across it again. Greg
groaned, jerked away. He tugged Greg gently back, hand

returning to the sweet belly.

Greg groaned. "This is so... I don't know."
"Stop thinking about it."
"What should I think about?"
"What do you want to think about?"
Pretty, worried eyes met his. "I don't want to think

about anything, because no matter what I choose, there's
sadness."

"You can think about me."
"Okay." Hadn't he forbidden that word?
He nudged Greg. "Try 'yes, sir'."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I'm not being an ass." No. No,

he'd learned that. Greg abused himself, not Ap, not even

their relationship.

"It'll be routine soon enough." At least that was the

plan.

Greg sighed softly, nodded, berating himself silently

-- Ap could tell from the way the pretty cock sagged and
the lovely lips tightened.

"You know. It's the Dom's job to punish you."
"What?"
"You keep hitting yourself and telling yourself off --

that's my job." He didn't figure pointing it out would
stop Greg, especially not overnight, but he wanted the

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man to be aware of it, and to know that Ap was aware of
it.

Greg looked away, blushed. "I."
"You can work on it."
"Okay. Yeah."
He tugged Greg back into his side, spanked twice,

just lightly, and splayed his fingers over the man's skin.

"Yes, sir."
Better. He nodded and moved to stroke along Greg's

legs. Strong and muscled, they tensed for him. He kept
touching, fingertips dancing. Eventually Greg started
wiggling, shifting on the couch. He dragged his fingers
up along the inside of Greg's thighs. Greg's legs closed,
trapping his fingers.

He lightly pinched Greg's skin. Greg wriggled,

backed away. He growled softly. That got Greg's eyes

away from the television and on him. He spread his
fingers as far apart as he could, waiting for Greg to get
the hint and spread at least enough for him to continue
playing.

Greg submitted, gulping in a breath of air.
"Good, boy." He kissed the top of Greg's head and

slid his fingers right up to the crease where the tops of
Greg's thighs ended.

That pretty cock began to fill again, the tip showing a

single, dark bruise.

It made him growl, and he spoke quietly. "If you hit

yourself again -- anywhere -- I will punish you."

"I..." Greg's hand dropped, covered his cock.
"No, don't. You can't hide from me, either." He

pushed Greg's hand out of the way and wrapped his own
around the poor, abused prick, holding it gently as he
moved his hand up and down along it.

Greg moaned, hands grabbing his arm. Ap was

learning that gentleness and care scared Greg more than
a little.

"Just let it happen, boy." Ap nuzzled along Greg's

neck, enjoying the scent of him.

"Just let it happen." The soft words were murmured,

Greg's lips parted.

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"That's right." He licked at Greg's lips, tongue

dipping in for a moment.

Greg's tongue barely touched his. It was a response,

though, and he felt warm inside at it.

He focused on gentle sensation, on easy pleasure. His

fingers teased, his lips as well. Slowly, so slowly, Greg
began to kiss him back. Their lips moved together, little
gentle movements that were all the more intimate for
their softness. Greg's hand began sliding along his arm,
petting him. He hummed softly, letting Greg know it felt
good.

Greg's eyes searched his, curious, then the kiss

deepened. Oh, no. Greg didn't get to choose that. He
backed away, smiling, his fingers moving over Greg's
lips.

"Sorry." Greg pulled back.

"If you want more, you can ask." He leaned in and

pressed their mouths together again.

This time Greg was tentative, pulling away. He put

his hand behind Greg's skull, keeping Greg in place as
he gently licked the sweet mouth. A soft, needy sound
escaped Greg, pushed into his lips. He deepened the kiss
in reward for the sound. There was need there, hunger.
Passion.

He teased his tongue inside Greg's mouth again,

tasting the man. Greg opened, so carefully, tongue on
his. He played with Greg's tongue and then invited it
back in to his mouth. Greg carefully kissed him back,
the kiss clumsy, untutored.

How could the man not know how to kiss? God, Greg

was one secret after another after another. Ap was going
to uncover each and every one.

Greg pulled back, blinked at him. "You're missing the

movie."

"It wasn't as compelling as you."
"I don't know what to say to that."
"Then I'll make sure you can't say anything." He

covered Greg's lips again. Greg's little moan made his
balls ache.

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He took the kiss a little deeper, his tongue pushing

like he was fucking Greg's mouth with it. Greg started
kissing him back again, cock hard and leaking.
Groaning, he leaned Greg back against the couch. Greg
went, hands hard on his shoulders.

Ap let one hand wander down Greg's chest, skirting

his nipples. For now. That fine belly went rock hard, and
he tugged the soft hairs that covered it, making Greg
gasp. Sexy boy. And the man didn't even know it. Ap
didn't think anyone else had noticed, either, at least not
for a long time.

Ap liked the way Greg smelled, male and fresh.
His thigh was against Greg's ballsac -- not pressing,

just resting, letting Greg feel him. His fingers curled
around Greg's cock, thumb sliding across the slick tip.
Greg's body slowly arched, stretched for him. Groaning,

he rubbed his thumb over the tip again, then again.

"Oh, fuck." Greg's thighs started to shake.
"No, not today. We will, though. I'll take you so

slowly, you'll think you'll die before we're done."

Greg's answer was a needy sob, and Ap wanted to

crow. He'd found a crack in that quiet armor.

He took another kiss, one hand still holding Greg's

prick, the other one finding one sweet nipple and
slipping across it. Greg's cock bobbed, leaking steadily
for him now. He rubbed his finger back and forth across
Greg's nipple, pressing with a little more pressure as it
drew up for him.

Greg's hips began to jerk, to rock up, to fuck his

hand. He rubbed their noses, and then slid his lips along
Greg's jaw. Soft little cries filled the air, Greg needing
him. He spurred Greg on, hand going all the way down
and then coming all the way back up, nearly losing hold
of the thick cock.

"I. I'm. I'm close." Oh, good boy for telling him. He'd

bet Greg didn't even realize what he'd done there.

"You're allowed to come, Greg."
Greg whimpered, twisting under him. He bit Greg's

neck lightly, teeth just barely scraping along the warm
skin. Heat sprayed up between them, the scent sharp,

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new to him. Groaning, he kept stroking slowly,
spreading Greg's come over his skin.

Greg sobbed softly, gulping in shaky breaths.
"I have you, boy." He wouldn't abandon Greg. Not

now, not later. Too many people already had.

"I... I need to-"
No. No, Greg needed to stay, stay and breathe.
"Just stay, boy." He brought his hand up. "You can

clean my hand."

Greg moaned, lips opening for him. He nodded,

watching as Greg's tongue slipped from his mouth. It
took long minutes, but Greg cleaned his hand. Then Ap
pulled the man in close again, hand now stroking Greg's
warm skin.

"I... Do you want me to..."
"Nope. Not this time. This one was just for you."

"I. Thank you. It was... Thank you."
"You're welcome, boy." He kissed the top of Greg's

head. He kept Greg close. Cradling the warm body. It
was a good way to spend the day.

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Chapter Six

Greg was going out of his mind. Ap was always

touching him, always there, always looking at him. He
dreamed about the man; he thought about Ap all the
damned time. He stormed outside and grabbed the axe,
intending to work himself into a stupor.

"What are you doing, boy?"
"Chopping wood." Trying to get you out of my head.
"Let me see your hands."
His blisters were scabbed sores now. That was good

enough, right? He held his hands up.

Ap shook his head. "Nope. One more day. Come

back inside."

"But." He needed to do something. He needed to stop

thinking about Ap. About things.

One of Ap's eyebrows went up.
"Okay." He headed back in, nails digging into his

palm.

"Okay?" Ap growled, following him in. "I don't want

to hear that anymore. I thought I was clear on that
point."

"Sorry. Yes, sir." The man was insane. He didn't

mean anything by it.

"Bend over."
"What?" Just insane.
"Over the chair. Now. And don't you dare say 'okay.'"
Greg rolled his eyes, but did it. Ap spanked him, just

a single swat. It wasn't even that hard.

"Better."
Then the man helped him upright and Ap's arm went

around his shoulders, tugging him close as they went to
the big living room. God, Ap smelled good. Greg dug

his nails deeper into his palms.

"What are you doing?" Ap's free hand landed on his

arm and slid down it.

He didn't have an answer, so he didn't give one.
Ap kept following his arm down to his hand,

uncurled his fingers from his palm. "Stop that. I've told
you not to hurt yourself. "

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"Sometimes I need to. I have to stop thinking

about..." You. "...things."

"Why?" Ap sat on the big couch and brought him

down against the broad chest.

"Why what?" He wanted to rub and touch. It was

crazy. He'd never wanted to touch anyone this much.
Never.

"Why do you have to stop thinking about things?

What things? Let me in."

"You. You're always everywhere. I dream about you.

I..." He stood up, hands in his hair. God, had he actually
said that out loud?

"What's wrong with that?" Ap reached up and took

hold of his waist.

"This is crazy. I have to stop it." His belly jerked,

jumped. There wasn't anything else but Ap, everywhere,

all the time.

"You need to let the past go. It was killing you."
"I. I need to." He hadn't thought about Tim in days,

hadn't dreamed about Tim. He hadn't heard Tim's voice
since leaving California.

"That's right. You need to let go." Ap tugged him

down so he was straddling the man's thighs.

He was spread this way, naked. Balls and cock right

in the way. One of Ap's arms looped around his waist,

fingers sliding in small circles around his lower back.
His eyes tried to close, to cross.

"Another hot spot. I'm going to discover them all."
"You see too much already." Again the words were

out before he could think them through, make sure they
wouldn't give anything away.

"You'll trust me with all of yourself one day." Ap

leaned in, pressing a kiss to the right side of his mouth.

His lips opened, the act almost familiar. Ap's tongue

slid across his lips, dipped briefly inside his mouth.
Greg thought if he had to sit and submit to more hours
of those gentle kisses without moving, he'd scream. Or
come.

It looked like he was going to have to submit to it,

though, because Ap just kept kissing, slowly, softly,

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gently. He began to shake, his body fighting it, needing
to burst out.

"Tell me what you need." Ap nuzzled his neck. "Tell

me what you want."

"I need to move." His chin lifted, his balls beginning

to ache.

"No, you want to move. You don't need to." Why did

Ap sound so sure when Greg himself wasn't?

"You don't know. I might need to."
Ap chuckled, shook his head. "No, I'm sure you

don't."

"You don't know that. I want to just run." Not run

away, just run until he was empty. It was so much easier
when he was empty.

"You want to tire your body out so you don't have to

think."

"Yes."
Sometimes he thought it was creepy, how Ap saw

him.

"I'm not going to let you run away, though. Not from

me and not from yourself."

He rested his forehead against Ap's, closed his eyes.
"Tell me what you're thinking." He could feel Ap's

breath as the man spoke. Ap always kept pushing and
pushing, asking what he was thinking, how he was
feeling, why he did this or that.

"That you see too much of me." It was the bare truth,

baldly spoken.

"Has anyone ever seen inside you before?"
He couldn't answer that. It would be wrong. It wasn't

right that Ap saw things Tim hadn't. Right?

Ap's lips pressed against his again, a little firmer than

usual, a little more demanding. His eyes opened. The
change was... interesting. Ap stared right at him. Into
him. The man's eyes were so pretty -- dark and sure,
clear, not muddy at all.

Their lips met again, then again, each little kiss

lasting longer than the last. And the whole while Ap
looked at him. Something in him tensed, getting tighter
and tighter, and finally he had to pull away, stand. Run.

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He couldn't, though, Ap's hands were around his

waist, holding on tight. How the hell did Ap do that?
How did he always know?

Greg's breath came faster, his heart pounding. Ap

kept looking at him, staring into his eyes. He was going
to scream. A deep sound tried to come out of him, and
he swallowed it down.

Ap shook his head. "No hiding from me."
The man was making him crazy. Absolutely insane.
Especially with the quiet staring. Which Ap was

doing again. Still. Whatever.

He was going to scream. He really, really was. Right

now. Any second now. "What do you want?"

"For you to know that you're seen. You are

important." Ap's fingers began to draw circles on the
small of his back.

His eyelids got heavy, his heart beating a little faster.

Then Ap pressed their lips together again, not softly or
sweetly. This was a real kiss. This kiss promised heat,
promised more. Greg's eyes rolled back in his head, one
hand curling around Ap's nape.

Ap leaned him back against the couch, the big body

following him down, pressing against him. Heat flooded
him, and his hips rolled, his body needing more. Ap
groaned and rubbed against him, stimulating him.

Oh, fuck.
Ap's clothes rasped against his bare skin, the

sensation wonderful and maddening and wild.

"So sensual," muttered Ap. "Revel in it."
He could feel everything -- the leather of the sofa, the

coolness of the air on his skin, the burning heat and
heaviness of Ap.

One of Ap's fingers found his right nipple, flicking

across it. God, he wanted more. He arched up, pushed
into the touch. Ap bent, tongue flicking across his
nipple, then the finger again. This sound left him, tore
out of him.

Ap licked and flicked again, then his lips wrapped

around Greg's nipple, sucking softly. He held on to Ap's
head, hips moving restlessly. The licks and touches

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continued and continued. Greg groaned, hands moving
over Ap, beginning to work buttons open, looking for
skin.

Ap shook his head. "Ask for what you need, boy."
"Too many clothes."
Ap nodded this time. "And so you say..."
He growled under his breath. "Let me take your shirt

off, please?"

"I don't think that sentence was quite finished..."
"Let me take your shirt off, please, sir." He stressed

the last word, his whole body tight.

Ap smiled, nodded. "Yes. Please do."
Ass.
Greg unfastened Ap's shirt, shoved it off the man's

shoulders. Ap hummed for him, pressed down against
him, skin on skin. His eyes crossed as he and Ap rubbed,

his fingers digging into the heavy muscles.

"God, you're a sexy man, aren't you?"
There wasn't a good response to that, so he didn't

bother.

Ap's lips slid across his, tongue slipping into his

mouth again. These kisses were different again, fiercer,
harder, making his head swim. One of Ap's fingers slid
over his nipple again, then again. His toes curled, and he
jerked up, bucking into the touch. Ap pinched one
nipple and then caressed the other.

There wasn't any rhythm to the pinches, the touches,

the petting. It was maddening, but at the same time so
good.

His fingers found Ap's nipples, repeated the touches,

echoed them. Ap groaned for him, slid against him. That

pleasure in Ap's voice triggered something inside him,
and Greg scooted down, intending to suck one of those
hard bits of flesh, to hear more of those sounds.

Ap slid a hand around his shoulder and dragged him

back up. Greg stiffened, frowned. God, he never did
anything right with this man.

"This isn't for me, Greg. This is for you."
"What do you want?"

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"I want for you to enjoy every touch, to lose yourself

in it. I want you to cry out and to come."

"This is so hard." So frustrating.
"Why?"
Greg stopped, closed his eyes. "Because I don't know

how to do this. Nothing is like I expect."

"I want you to find yourself again. I want you to be

happy, to find pleasure."

"You want hard things!" God, he was mad. And

horny.

"Have you always been so hard on yourself?" Ap was

still staring at him, lying on top of him, and he could
feel the man's hard on against him.

"Why are we talking?"
"Because you asked what I wanted." Ap gave him a

grin and then covered his mouth, tongue pushing in.

This kiss stopped the fucking world, and all Greg

could do was hold on. It went on and on, stealing his
breath, stealing his thoughts. His cock ached, burned
where it rubbed against Ap's jeans. Ap took small bites
of his lips, stinging and soothing with the same
movements.

Shit, he was going to shoot.
"Show me how it feels," murmured Ap.
"So big." He moaned, hands on Ap's hips, holding the

man close as he drove himself up, fucking himself on
Ap's jeans.

Ap pressed down against him, breath hot on his lips,

the bites and kisses continuing, the pinches and glides of
hot fingers across his nipples not slowing down.

"Gonna..." One of Ap's legs pressed against his balls,

nudged him hard, and he shot.

Ap's low hum sounded pleased, the man's kiss taking

his mouth again. The pleasure went on and on, just wave
after wave of sensation. Ap slowed the kiss down, drew

him in even closer with it. Every inch of him was
shivering, shaking, and he held on tight.

"I have you." It sounded like a promise, the way Ap

said it.

He nodded, blinked as exhaustion took him.

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Ap shifted them, turning so he was lying on top of

the strong body, Ap's arms around him. He tried to
move, but Ap shushed him, fingers petting him, gentling
him, like he hadn't just come all over the man.

"Close your eyes. Just feel."
His eyes fell shut, his body melted, warm. happy.
Maybe he'd never have to move from right here.

***

"If you slice up some of the bread we made today, I'll

build the sandwiches." They had leftover beef and some
cucumber mustard he'd made with last year's cucumber
crop which hadn't turned out too badly and went well
with the beef.

"Sure." Greg looked a little shell-shocked, a little off

balance. It was a delicious sight. And just what Greg
needed.

Ap continued to stay close, to touch. Greg couldn't

escape him, couldn't believe for a moment that he wasn't
seen.

Watching Greg lost in passion had been perfect,

making him achingly hard. Soon, he would let Greg take
care of him, but not yet. Not until Greg knew that he
was worth being the center of sensation, of attention, of
care. Then they could start the path to playing, to
pleasure and pain and need. The path of submission.

"Dessert smells good." They'd gone out together and

picked the rhubarb while the dogs ran around them and
chased moths and mosquitoes and black flies. They'd

made a crisp with it, the smell tart and sweet at the same
time.

"Has Master Oliver called to see if I'm okay?"
Ap had been wondering when Greg would ask that,

when Greg would want to know if he'd been truly
abandoned by Oliver. Which he hadn't been. "He's
called twice."

"Oh, okay." Greg cut four slices of bread.
He decided to let this 'okay' go. "He's been worried

about you."

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"Yeah? I figured he'd be glad to be rid of me."
"He didn't know what to do with you, and he was

worried you were going to wind up in jail for good." Or
worse. Oliver had confided in one call that he'd been
worried Greg would eventually find the will to kill
himself.

"I might have. I might still."
"You can't get in trouble around here. Besides," he

slid his arm around Greg's shoulders and hugged the
man, "I've got my eye on you."

Greg actually leaned into him for a moment, rested

on him. He didn't crow in triumph, but it was a close
thing. He liked it, though, not just because it meant that
Greg was beginning to trust him and to take comfort, but
he liked the feeling of Greg trusting him, easing against
him.

Greg pulled away, went to the refrigerator to get the

beef. Ap checked the dessert in the oven. It looked like it
still needed a bit more time to brown up properly.

They built their sandwiches, Greg bare, quiet beside

him. It was becoming routine, familiar and comforting,
them.

He took the dessert out of the oven just as they plated

up their sandwiches. "Milk or ginger ale?"

"Milk, please."
He poured two glasses of milk and sat next to Greg.

"Bon appétit."

"Thanks." Greg put his head down, ate, quiet in

himself.

Ap had a few bites of his sandwich, watching Greg

eat.

Greg looked over once, eyebrow arched. "Is it good?"
"It is. You like it?" He had to admit, Greg was

looking better every day, less one step from death,
healthier. Ap was becoming more and more attracted to
the man, too.

"I do." Greg met his eyes, almost smiled.
"I need to go shopping for food, soon. Would you

like to come with me?" He didn't know if Greg was
ready yet.

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"Not naked."
Ap laughed, honestly tickled. "No, not naked."
"Okay."
He cleared his throat, but only said, "You can help

me make the list." He had a couple more bites of his
sandwich.

"Okay."
He pegged Greg with a look this time, and his boy

pinked.

"Yes, sir."
He smiled. "Good boy."
That made Greg blush darker. He reached a hand out

and slid it along one hot cheek.

"I..." Greg moaned, shifted away, then pushed back.
He ran his thumb along Greg's lower lip.
"Your sandwich." His boy was like an unbroken

horse.

"It's not going anywhere." He leaned in, licked where

he'd touched.

Greg gasped, lips parting. Humming, he dipped his

tongue into Greg's mouth, the kiss more teasing and
gentle than anything else. Those pretty eyes met his,
stared at him. He teased at Greg's tongue, inviting the
man to play with him. Greg scooted closer, one hand
landing on his thigh.

Oh yes. Very nice. He put his hand on Greg's and

drew it upward, silently giving permission for more as
he began to fuck Greg's mouth with his tongue. Greg's
fingers slipped up, solid, hard. Sure. He felt his prick
rise, eager to meet that touch, and he debated mentally

with himself as to whether he would let Greg get him
off.

Training Greg was like breaking a colt -- give praise

and treats, slide the blanket and bridle on, back off. He
had to move carefully.

He cupped Greg's cheek, fingers stroking the smooth

skin. Greg's eyelids got heavy, but their gaze didn't
break. He moved his fingers back to caress along Greg's
earlobe. There was a hot spot, right behind Greg's ear.

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One on Greg's scalp, too -- he'd noticed Greg tugging at
his hair.

He stroked just the right spot behind Greg's earlobe,

watching his boy's reaction. Those pretty eyes crossed,
then Greg leaned away. God forbid Greg should find
any pleasure, any satisfaction in life.

"Where are you going, boy?"
"I. We were eating." Greg was hard for him.
"Just sandwiches. They'll keep." If the dogs didn't

sneak up onto the table and eat them. There was enough
food left that they wouldn't starve, even if the dogs did
do that.

Greg's belly rippled, jerked for him. "Do you want

me to... touch you?"

"Yes, boy. I do." There had to be a reward, after all,

for Greg having asked.

Greg's hands slid up his thighs, eyes meeting his,

sliding away, meeting his again. He hummed softly,
spread his legs for Greg, offering himself. Greg leaned
closer, thumbs nudging his balls.

He licked his lips. "You can undo my pants," he said

softly.

"Are you going to make me leave, once I do this?"

Greg unfastened his fly.

He blinked, put his hand on Greg's, stopping Greg's

movements. "What?"

"I just... Is this because you're done with me? I'd

understand. I just want to know."

"No." He shook his head. Had this been the point for

Greg when everything fell apart with everyone else? It
made him want to weep for Greg. It also made him want
to go beat a few people's heads together. "No. You
wanted to touch. I wanted to let you."

"Oh. Okay. I mean, yes sir. I want to. Touch."
He smiled and stroked Greg's cheek, a deep sadness

filling him. Greg had not been well-done by. "Then
touch, boy. I'm in your hands."

Greg's fingers were trembling, the touch untutored,

gentle as those fingers wrapped around his cock. He
groaned, slid his hand along Greg's back as he spread his

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legs a little wider. The touch moved up and down along
him, then Greg slowed, almost like the man was
exploring him.

He took in a deep breath and then let it go. "Do you

want to taste?"

Greg nodded. "You smell good. I think you'll taste

good."

"Go ahead and find out, boy." He pushed himself

away from the table some, giving Greg room to get
down between his legs.

Greg moved carefully, settled between his legs,

fingers easing his cock back toward the hot mouth.
When those lips wrapped around the tip of his prick, his
eyes crossed.

"Oh, fuck." It had been way too long since anyone

had sucked him off and even longer since it had been

someone he cared about as much as he was beginning to
care about Greg.

Greg didn't gobble him down -- the man was

incredibly slow, gentle, not in any hurry at all. A little of
his own back at him, and that was okay by him. The
long, slow touches were building the pleasure inside
him, slowly, surely, perfectly.

Greg's cheek rested against him, fingers soft on his

balls. He let his hands wander on Greg's shoulders and
neck, moaning now and then as the waves of sensation
crested and then began to build again. The intensity

ebbed and flowed; it stayed low-key and steady.
Maddening.

He spread his legs wider and shifted a little on the

chair, not quite pushing deeper into Greg's mouth.
Greg's head began to bob, lips sliding on his shaft. The
tip of his cock nudged the roof of Greg's mouth, rubbed
along the man's palate.

"Yes. God." He nodded, his hands curling on Greg's

shoulders, holding on as it got better and better.

Those lovely eyes met his, and Greg swallowed.

Pleasure surged through him, and he let Greg see it, see
how good it was. The swallow happened again, the
pleasure slamming up his spine. His hips jerked up,

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pressing his prick deep again. Greg took him, all of him,
throat closing around the tip of his cock.

"Fuck yes!" He cried out, hips snapping, pulling out

and pushing back in again twice before he was coming,
pouring his pleasure down Greg's throat.

Greg gurgled a little, but took him in, breathing hard

as he backed off.

He didn't let Greg go far, stroking and petting Greg's

head, his shoulders. "Thank you. That was very good."
His voice was rough, still thick with his pleasure.

"You're welcome." Greg nodded, eyes closed.
"Did you enjoy it?" He kept touching lightly, refusing

to lose the connection between them.

"You tasted like I thought. Good. Real."
"Doesn't everyone taste real?" How could a hot, hard

prick and fresh spunk not taste real?

"Most men just taste bitter and salty."
"Fair enough." He brought Greg in for a kiss, tasting

himself there. "I'm glad you like how I taste."

Greg blushed for him, then went back to his

sandwich. Ap picked his own up as well, though he was
still far more interested in watching Greg than eating.
Such a fascinating man. So full of sadness and need, and
Ap was beginning to believe no one had ever really been
there for Greg.

Not even Greg's Tim.
When they'd finished their sandwiches, he brought

out the dessert and added ice cream to the top. It began
to melt immediately, and he licked his lips.

"Thank you." Greg took a bite of ice cream, smiled.
"You like sweets?" It was something they hadn't

really explored -- Greg pretty much ate whatever he put

in front of the man.

"I like ice cream."
"Any flavor in particular?" He had an ice cream

maker or two -- they could have fun making it
themselves.

"I like all of it."
"Then we'll have to have some fun, try our hand at

different things."

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Greg's eyes met his, the look curious, but unsure.
"I have an ice cream maker. Actually I have a couple.

One's a more traditional crank style, the other one is one
of those soccer ball shaped ones you kick around. Do
you play sports at all?" He needed to show Greg the
workout room; he'd been neglecting his own workouts
of late.

Of course, he'd been pretty distracted.
"I used to, before the accident."
"Is it a matter of it hurts too much, or you just haven't

had the opportunity, or what?" He kept forgetting Greg
had been badly injured -- the man never complained.

"I don't know -- a little of both, I think."
"Well, I have a workout room in the basement.

There's a sauna and hot tub down there, too."

"Wow. A sauna? That's different." Greg ate the ice

cream, started on the crisp.

Ap ate his ice cream and crisp together, loving the

way the cold and the hot married, kept his mouth
guessing. "It gets cold here in the winter, and we'll be
snowbound for some of it. I like to have lots of options
open, things to do." There were times he didn't get into
town for weeks and one particularly snowy year it had
been nearly three months that he'd been snowbound.

"It's been a long time since I saw snow."
"Oh, you'll see a lot this year." He chuckled. "We're

far enough north it shows up early and stays late." He
had cross country skis and snowshoes, too. The dogs
loved going out with him. Bernie had even had a pouch
to carry Raspberry in when the little mutt's legs gave
out.

Greg smiled, then went to do dishes, and Ap shifted

so he could watch Greg work. There was an efficiency
in each movement, the muscles working no harder than
they needed to. The man was comfortable bare, easy in
his skin. Comfortable here with Ap. He'd bet Greg had

no idea that had happened.

He reached out, slid his fingers along Greg's ass.

Greg's glut tensed, jerked. He cupped the whole butt
cheek with his hand. A bowl slipped out of Greg's

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fingers, clattered in the sink. He smiled, pleased to know
he affected Greg so strongly.

"Sorry. It slipped."
"That's quite all right." He loved the way Greg's

muscles bucked and rolled. Leaning over, he placed a
kiss on that fine ass. Greg stumbled forward, just out of
reach. "No, no. Don't run away."

Greg stilled, visibly vibrating. He leaned in and

kissed Greg's ass again, his lips lingering. Greg actually
whined softly.

"Problem?" If Greg had expected him to kick the guy

out after getting blown, this had to be a surprise.

"No. No. I'm okay."
There was that fucking word again. He growled and

bit Greg's ass.

"Ow! God damn it!"

"We talked about that word, Greg."
Greg moved out of range, hand on his ass.
"I didn't say you could go." Ap grabbed Greg's arm

and hauled him back.

Greg's muscles were jerking, jumping under his

touch.

"What's got you all worked up?"
"Nothing. I'm okay. I'm fine."
"You know how I feel about that word, Greg." He

tugged the man into his lap. Greg was clearly not okay
or fine and still hadn't learned Ap wouldn't be fobbed off

by that.

"It's a real word." Greg looked at him, eyes heated,

cock filling.

Ap snorted. "I never said it wasn't. I just don't like it

coming out of your mouth."

"Okay!" Greg stopped, blinked, then turned bright

red and tried to stand.

He laughed outright at that, pulling Greg onto his lap

again. "I'm going to have to spank your ass for that."

Greg looked at him, and Ap wasn't sure if the

expression was hopeful or hesitant.

"I mean it. Spankings every time you say 'okay'. Real

ones now, not the easy swats you've been getting so far.

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I'll leave it to you to decide if it's a punishment you want
to avoid or one you're going to want."

Greg would either stop saying okay altogether, or

he'd start saying it when he wanted the spanking.

"It's a real word."
"I know it's a real word. That doesn't change that I

don't want you using it." And it wasn't the point, either.
"You understand what happens if you use it again, boy?"

Greg nodded, tried to pull away, to fight him a little

bit. He wrapped his hand around Greg's wrists and kept
Greg right there on his lap. Greg's muscles bunched, but
Ap held on. It was about time they had a little challenge,
a test.

He met Greg's eyes. "You going to tell me you're

okay again?'

"Probably. It just something I say."

"It's something you say to fob people off. I'm not the

fobbing off type.

"It's just a word. Only a word."
"No, it's not just a word. Just the fact that you're

arguing about it shows that."

"Okay! I said I'd try to stop, okay? I will!"
He raised an eyebrow. "You just said okay again.

Twice."

"No..." Greg wasn't even hearing himself.
"Yes. Yes, you did."
Greg shook his head. "Uh-uh."
"I'm not arguing about this with you. That's two

spanks for just now and two for earlier. Over my knees.
Now."

Greg stiffened, stared at him.
"I warned you what would happen."
"But..."
Indeed. Butt. Red, bare, burning butt. Ap tugged

Greg, started moving him into position. Greg was stiff,
fighting him a little, but going. He rubbed the lovely ass,
making Greg stay like that a moment or two, stretching

those moments out, stretching the anticipation out.

Greg's hands were on his leg, clenching.

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"Four swats." He rubbed for another minute, and then

he swatted once, hard. His handprint went white, then a
bright, dark red.

"Mmm. Lovely." He hit the other cheek this time,

then snapped the last two swats out in the middle of
Greg's ass. "You could say it a few more times." He
wasn't terribly serious about the suggestion, but Greg's
voice sounded just the same.

"O...okay."
He hit Greg's ass again in response.
Greg's thighs parted, the man's cock beginning to fill

again. Oh, someone liked that. Genuinely.

"You've got a great ass." He rubbed it. "How does it

feel?"

"Warm."
He chuckled. "Not 'okay'?"

"Better than okay."
He tapped Greg's ass lightly. "That one doesn't count

because you used it in a different context."

Greg tried to lever himself up, push off his legs.
"I didn't say you could get up yet."
"You said it didn't count." Greg's cock was nudging

his leg.

"It didn't, so you don't get another swat, but that

doesn't mean you can get up." He loved the look of Greg

over his lap. He wanted to see more. "You could say it
again, though. It would count this time if you did."

"I. I... Okay. I can. I mean. Okay." Needy son of a

bitch.

"Good boy." He brought his hand down once, and

then again, the feeling of Greg's ass beneath his palm
absolutely wonderful.

He let himself touch again, drag his fingers over

Greg's warming skin. He could smell the sweat and need
on Greg's skin as he traced the marks his hand had left.
Greg's asscheeks tensed, then relaxed.

"You like a good spanking." It wasn't a question; he

knew the truth of it from Greg's reactions. Greg didn't
answer. He chuckled and rubbed harder, looking to

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make the slight burn ache. That had been nothing, really.
Greg wouldn't even feel it in ten minutes.

"More?" he suggested.
Would Greg actually ask for it outright?
"Please, sir?"
"Very nicely put." He let his hand fly, hitting Greg's

ass nice and hard.

"Fuck!" Greg jerked forward, cock shoving against

his thigh.

He wished he was naked, that he could feel that hot,

leaking prick against his skin. He wanted Greg in his
playroom. He spanked again, then again, enjoying the
heat of Greg's ass. He kept one hand in the small of
Greg's back, finding a rhythm to his blows with the
other. Greg moved with him, body pushing into each hit.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck." Greg whimpered.

"You have my permission to come."
"Okay. Okay, cool. Good."
"No more okays." He gave two hard swats as

punishment.

"Fuck!" There was going to be a difference between

punishment spanking and sexual ones.

After the two hard swats, he went back to lighter

ones, the ones with a rhythm, with a pattern Greg could
recognize. Greg started moaning, rocking against his
legs now.

"Mmmhmm. God, you're hot, boy."
"Hot..." Greg arched, ass muscles going tight.
"Oh, fuck, yes. So hot."
"I. I. Please."
His jeans were wet with Greg's pre-come.

"Sweet boy. You can come. You can show me how

much you love it."

He let his free hand slide up Greg's back in a slow

caress, and Greg cried out, heat spraying over his jeans.

"Yes!" God, Greg smelled great.
Greg nodded, moaned, shudders rocking the muscled

body. He rubbed Greg's ass, encouraging his orgasm to
last, to linger. Then he rocked Greg, humming, keeping
his boy close. When the sweet shudders faded, he drew

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Greg up to sit in his lap. Greg's face was bright red,
Greg's body shuddering.

He pressed kisses over Greg's face, tongue flicking

out to lick Greg's lips. Greg opened to him, then his boy
kissed him back, tongue sliding against his. He hummed
into the kiss, pleasure working its way through him.
Sweet baby boy, so hungry, so eager. He wrapped his
arms around Greg, held on tight.

He wasn't letting go. And it wasn't just to help out

Oliver anymore. Not by a longshot.

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Chapter Seven

Greg woke early in the morning, slid from the bed,

the ghost of Tim following him. He slipped into the
bathtub, filled it up to his neck with hot water and
soaked.

He'd come for Ap. He'd wanted it.
He watched the steam rise from the water.
The weirdest part was that he wasn't sorry. He

wanted to do it again. A lot.

He didn't know how long he'd been soaking when Ap

came in, naked as a jaybird.

"I'd wondered where you'd gotten to." Ap gave him a

sleepy half-smile and went to relieve himself.

Greg let some of the cool water out, added more hot.

"Just thinking."

Ap brushed his teeth quickly and splashed his face

before coming over to the tub. "May I join you?"

"Sure." He slid over, gave Ap room. "It's warm."
"Excellent. And big enough for two." Ap joined him,

settling close.

His body found its place against Ap's side, head on

one broad shoulder. Ap's arm slid around his back, hand
comfortable on his hip. A soft hum and a kiss to the top
of his head told him Ap was happy. Greg's eyes closed,
and they floated, one of his hands on Ap's belly.

"What were you thinking about?" Ap asked, after a

while.

"I was thinking about last night. About Tim. About

whether I should feel guilty for not feeling bad."

"Tim wouldn't want you to stop living, would he?"
"No. No, he was all about living." He wouldn't go so

far as to say Tim would like Ap, but Tim would
understand. And Tim hadn't spoken to him since he'd
come here.

"Then there's no reason to guilt over it." Ap turned

his face and pressed their foreheads together. "He's not
here and you and I are. I'm right here with you."

He nodded. "Okay. Yes. I like that."

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Ap squeezed him and growled a little. "We'll save it

for later, but that's one spanking for the okay."

"What?"
"You said okay. We've banned that word,

remember?" Ap grinned at him. "Luckily for you, you
like the spankings."

He ducked his chin, hid his face in Ap's shoulder.
Chuckling, Ap squeezed him tight. "If it was your

choice, what would you like to do today?"

"I. I want my hair cut. It's itchy on the long parts and

ugly." He thought he was getting tired of being ugly. He
thought maybe he cared enough not to be anymore.

"We can do that. In fact, you have two choices. We

can drive to Smooth Rock Falls and get it done there. Or
I can do it. Though I can't promise that my doing it
won't mean we still need to drive into town to get it

redone."

"I'd let you do it." That was a no-brainer; he really

didn't want to leave Ap's place.

"Sure thing. I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't

need redoing."

"If it's bad, we'll shave it." Tim had asked him to do

that once. He'd said no, safeworded.

"Works for me. I'll try to make it so you don't have

to, though. Although you'd look stunning bald." Ap ran

a hand through his hair, fingers on his scalp.

"I never have." His hand was beginning to move,

petting Ap's belly.

"What? Shaved? It would make your eyes huge."
Ap sounded happy with his touches, and he could see

the large prick thickening beneath the water. He let his
pinkie finger nudge it. Ap groaned, the arm around him
squeezing. His hand moved, fingers tracing the tip, the
slit. Ap licked his lips as his head dropped back, another
sound ringing out through the bathroom.

He dared to lean in, lips on Ap's throat. Ap dropped

his head back farther, giving Greg more access. Ap
smelled so good, the flavor on his tongue salty and right.

"I do love your mouth, boy."
"Thank you." He nuzzled, nibbled Ap's skin.

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Ap hummed for him, throat just barely vibrating

beneath his lips. His eyes closed, the world tightening to
the two them, the tub, the warmth. Ap's hand slid off his
hip and began to move along his back, the touch light,
awakening all his nerves. His cock nudged Ap's hip,
sliding in the water.

"Mmm." Ap smiled, fingers drifting down to his ass.
"Do you like to fuck?"
"I do." Ap's words were all thick, growly. "It's just

one of the things I want to do to you."

"Oh." He swallowed his moan. "I... It's like you're

inside me already."

It was huge and tiny, all at once. This wasn't the

whips and chains thing he'd come to expect -- but Ap
had him.

A low moan sounded at his words, and Ap turned his

head up, took his mouth in a deep, intense kiss that stole
his breath. Greg found himself straddling Ap's waist, the
water letting them rub together as he cried out into Ap's
lips. One big hand landed on his ass, sliding over his
skin. The burn from yesterday's spanking was mostly
gone, but he could definitely feel that hand.

He nibbled on Ap's bottom lip, sucked it in. One

finger slid along his crack, rubbing up and down. The
touch was welcome -- wanted, even. He hadn't let
anyone in, only toys, since Tim.

"Sensual, sexy boy." Ap muttered the words, tongue

licking into his mouth.

He was caught in the pleasure, open to it, hungry for

it. The finger at his crack found his hole and teased it,

pushing against it, but not going in. His ass tightened,
relaxed, tightened again. Ap's finger pushed in a little,
just breaching him.

"I..." He rocked back, took Ap's finger in deeper.
"Wanton." That finger pushed in even deeper, the

slight burn perfect. He blushed, catching himself before
he nodded. Ap's lips slid along his jaw, back to his ear,
and he barely caught the whispered, "My wanton boy."

He whimpered, lips fastening on Ap's throat. He

thought maybe he could be someone's. He could.

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Ap's finger pushed in all the way, the other fingers

pressed up tight against his skin.

In him.
Ap was in him.
They rocked together, pushing fast and hard. Ap's

free hand was on his ass, encouraging each movement.

Needed. He needed this. "Please."
"Got to find something slick." Ap's hands left his

body.

"Uh-huh." His body arched, trying to keep contact.
"I think there's a tube of lube in the medicine cabinet,

along with the condoms."

One of them was going to have to get out of the tub

to get them, though.

"You want to hit the bed or what?"
Ap smiled and nodded, hand sliding down his spine.

"That would be the most comfortable solution."

"Probably, yeah." His hips rolled.
"Come on then. Before we forget ourselves and rub

off in the tub." Ap kissed him, though, hard and good,
before climbing out.

He found towels for them, dried them both off.
"Mmm. You're good at that."
"Thank you." Everything felt so... delicate. New.

Fragile.

Ap grabbed the stuff they'd need out of the medicine

cabinet, then slung an arm around his shoulders and led
him back to the bedroom. The man smelled like heaven,
skin warm, muscles solid against him. The room smelled
good, too, like Ap, but also like him. Like it welcomed

them both.

They slipped into the big bed, Greg finding his spot

in Ap's arms, and those wonderful, drugging kisses
started up again. Greg found himself relaxing -- melting
into Ap, trusting in him to make things right.

One of Ap's legs slid between his, opening him just a

little. The heat brushed his legs, the sensation easy,
familiar and new, all at once. Ap's hand slid along his
spine, re-awakening his nerves. His lips parted, the
touch making him tingle. Clever fingers tickled in the

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small of his back. Greg gasped, hips rolling, his heart
beating faster.

"A good spot," murmured Ap, staying there, fingers

playing and rubbing and making him feel so good.

"Yes." His hips kept moving, completely out of his

control.

Ap's fingers left his back, cupped his ass.
"S...sorry. Makes me wild."
"No, it's good -- you're good. Hot. Sexy."
He touched Ap's lips. Ap pulled one of his fingers

into the hot mouth, sucked.

"Sir." He moaned the honorific, his legs parting.
"Your sir." Ap slid three fingers along his crack.
"Mine?" He spread wider.
"That's right. Yours."
He nodded. Good, okay. He could accept that.

One of Ap's fingers pushed into him. He bore down,

rocked into the touch.

"Mmm. You're tight, hot."
"I haven't in a while." Had he said that out loud?
"That's okay. We're going to take our time."
"You said okay."
Ap blinked at him and then chuckled. "So I did."
He grinned, and they laughed together. The finger

inside him wriggled as they laughed and shifted. He
squeezed, holding that touch tight.

"Needy boy." Ap pushed the finger deeper.

"Oh." Ap pegged his gland and his toes curled.
Ap pegged it again, holding his gaze. His lips parted.

Leaning in, Ap took a kiss. The kiss hid the stretch when
Ap added another finger. Those fingers went deep, and
even the kiss couldn't disguise the touch to his gland.
Lightning shot up his spine, and his body bowed.

Groaning, Ap pushed those fingers into his gland

again. Then again. His entire body was on fire, lit up and
so awake.

"Look at you." Ap was, too, staring at him like he

was something important, special.

"Please." He didn't know what he was asking for.
"I won't leave you wanting, Greg."

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"Thank you. I just... It's been so long." Not since he'd

come, or since someone had been decent to him, but
since someone had touched him like this, had cared for
him.

"That's why I'm taking my time. Gonna make it last."

All he could do was nod.

Ap's fingers pushed in deep again, nudging them past

his gland and making him shiver. His eyes crossed. Oh,
damn. Ap hummed, and another finger worked its way
into him.

"Full." It wasn't a complaint.
"My cock is bigger." Ap met his eyes. "And one day

you'll take my hand."

His belly jerked, squeezed, and he almost shot.
Smiling, Ap let his fingers drop away, leaving Greg

empty. He whimpered, twisting, the need so big, so

huge.

"Easy now. Put the condom on me."
He nodded, mouth dry with his need. His fingers

were clumsy, stupid.

Ap's fingers slid over his belly. "Take your time,

boy."

"Sorry. Okay, yeah. I'm just jittery."
"I'll spank you later for the okay, boy."
He rolled his eyes, sighed. Damn it.
"You'll learn." Ap smiled and helped him roll the

condom down Ap's thick cock. "You need to be patient

with yourself."

"You're so thick. You're going to fill me up." He

didn't deserve patience.

"I am. You into size, Greg?" Ap's fingers slid along

his sides, touching him everywhere.

"I don't really know. The plugs before... they excited

me." He wasn't sure if it was right, talking about before.

"Have you ever been fisted?" Ap had him lying on

his back, his legs spread.

"No." Tim had been working on things like

obedience.

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"Then we have something to look forward to

together." Ap bent and nipped at his inner thigh, teeth
sharp on his skin.

"I might not..." The burn from the bite made him cry

out. "...stretch."

"You will. Time, patience and plenty of lube."
"Patience." He didn't know.
"It's not a concept you're familiar with." Ap licked a

line up his cock, and then the man settled between his
legs, covered cock pushing at his balls, and then beyond
them.

"Oh..." Ap was like a flame, burning between his

thighs.

Ap pushed his legs farther apart, and then the thick

head breached his hole. The burn was deep, and he
pushed down, wanting to get it over with, wanting to get

more.

Ap pulled back, pulled right out, shaking his head.

"Patience."

"P..." Oh, God. That was going to make him crazy.
"All you have to do is lie there and let me make love

to you."

He couldn't. He couldn't be still. He hated being still.
"Okay. Yes." Damn it.
"That's three. I think you should keep track of that for

me, and at the end of each day you can tell me how

many spankings you are due."

"I..." Why were they talking?
Ap's cock nudged his hole. "The answer to that is

'yes, sir'."

"Yes, sir." He needed to feel.
"Good boy." Ap pushed the head of his cock back

into Greg, once again just breaching the tight muscle.

His body wanted to move, to take more, and he

shook. When he didn't move, though, Ap pushed in a
little deeper.

"Oh..." His body clenched, trying to pull Ap in

deeper.

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"Patience, Greg." Ap pulled nearly all the way out

again, before slipping into where he'd been a moment
before.

"Please. Please." His hips rolled up.
"Stillness is a virtue. So is patience." Ap pressed

kisses all over his face, soft ones, sloppy ones, wet ones,
but that thick cock didn't push any deeper.

"You... I need." Greg shivered.
"I know. I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging. I

won't." Ap curled, kissing first one nipple and then the
other, and then, thank god, Ap pushed in a little harder, a
little deeper.

"Ap..." His entire body shivered.
"Mmmhmm." Ap kept moving, pushing deeper into

him until finally he was so very full.

He couldn't quite breathe, he couldn't think. Ap didn't

seem to need him to say anything, but those eyes held
his, Ap's gaze intense. His ass kept working, milking
that fat cock, keeping it deep inside.

"So needy." Ap circled his hips, cock shifting but not

pulling out.

"Yes!" He grabbed Ap's ass, rocking against the man.
Ap's hands grabbed his and tugged them up over his

head. Circling both wrists with one hand, Ap kept him
stretched out like that. His lips opened and closed, his
excitement ratcheting up.

"Patience, boy. Be careful I don't back away and start

all over from the beginning again."

He sobbed softly. "I hate patience!"
Ap kissed him softly, rubbed their cheeks together.

"Great rewards come with patience."

"Help me." He wanted to be good. Mostly.
"I am." Ap sank into him again, then pulled out.

Slowly.

"Oh..." His entire body shivered.
"You get to feel every single inch of me." Ap's voice

was like another caress, and he swore it settled in his
balls.

"Every inch." He bore down, squeezed tight.

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Groaning, Ap kept moving, cock never still, but

always slowly moving in and out. That hand held him
tight around his wrists.

"Doing so well, boy. Staying still, letting me set the

pace. This is patience."

"Trying. So hard." Everything about him was hard.
"I know." Ap began moving a little faster, like it was

a reward.

He moaned, deep in his chest, his whole body

tingling. "Yes..."

Ap closed their mouths together, kissing him as the

thrusts got harder, became more what he wanted, what
he needed. They began to slam together, skin slapping as
they fucked each other's lips with their tongues.

He could feel everything in him tightening, the

pleasure building in his balls, in the small of his back.

He wanted to scream with it, his lips opening and
closing over and over.

The thrusts continued to build in strength, in speed

and just when he thought it couldn't get any better, Ap's
lips brushed his ear, the word "come" whispered into
him.

"Oh, God..." His cock jerked, throbbed, seed pouring

out, spraying over his chest.

"Fuck, you smell good."
His only answer was a moan; the rest of his body was

busy. Ap began to thrust again, long, slow thrusts now,

accompanied by moans. His ass ached, and the sensation
burned so perfectly as he moved, trying to give Ap
more.

"Fuck. It's good." Ap moaned again, thrust harder,

deeper. Greg clenched, bore down hard, squeezing Ap
tight. "Yes" Two more thrusts and Ap came, looking so
hot as he did it.

They breathed together for a few more minutes, in

and out, panting breaths evening out. Ap pulled out
slowly, hand sliding down to deal with the condom. It
was dealt with, and Ap stretched out next to him.
Strong, sure hands gathered him close, Ap surrounding
him.

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"Rest," Ap ordered.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I mean... Rest." He kissed Ap's

collarbone. "Thank you."

"For?"
"Everything."
Ap kissed the top of his head. "You're welcome."
He closed his eyes, let sleep take him while he

breathed Ap in.

***

Ap held Greg as he slept and enjoyed the lassitude

and laziness that came from a good, shared orgasm. It
felt good, too, having given Greg something he needed,
something he wanted. Ap thought maybe he'd been
doing that for a while now and this was just the

culmination of several weeks worth of efforts.

From what Ap understood, this was the longest Greg

had stayed with anyone since his master had died. Ap
didn't believe it was just because he lived in the middle
of nowhere; Greg hadn't even made a show of trying to
leave. He was giving Greg what Greg needed.

What pissed him off was that it was easy to do, too.

Attention, care, touch, focus. All the things any sub
deserved, especially one who was in pain and needed as
badly as Greg did. Surely one of the men who'd dealt
with Greg before had seen that? Or had they all been
blinded by Greg's reputation? By the knowledge that
Greg's master had been killed so early in their time
together?

He looked closely at Greg, taking in the changes the

last few weeks had wrought. Relaxation and ease had let
Greg breathe, and the physical work in moderation had
made the strong muscles more defined. That odd
stiffness in the man's back had eased. Today they would
deal with the trashed haircut and Greg would simply be
lovely.

Unable to resist, Ap took a soft kiss, like he was

waking sleeping beauty with this one kiss, when in fact,

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it was as if he'd spent the last weeks waking Greg back
to life.

Greg hummed, eyes fluttering open, and Ap got a

quiet, warm smile. He smiled back, let his fingers glide
on Greg's cheek before moving in for another of the soft
kisses. Greg's hands slid over his ribs, fingers stroking.
He loved the touches, loved that Greg wanted to offer
them.

He was beginning to believe they were going to make

it to the playroom, going to explore boundaries. That
Greg was going to learn to push back.

"Hungry?" he asked, his own explorations mirroring

Greg's.

"I don't know."
"No?" He rubbed Greg's belly. His boy needed

sustenance, even if Greg didn't know it.

"No. You smell good."
"Mmm, are you going to eat me up?"
Greg chuckled. "I'll huff and I'll puff."
"You can blow me any day of the week, Mr. Wolf."

God, that had been bad. Really bad. He could be a major
dork on occasion.

They laughed together, and Ap found himself

fascinated, caught. He took a taste of that laughter,
sliding his tongue across Greg's before pulling back
again. "Come on. Breakfast and your hair, before I
decide it's a good day to stay in bed all day."

"I have to feed the pups, too." Greg had become fond

of the dogs, religiously caring for them. They adored
Greg, maybe even more than they did him. Ap didn't

mind. He nodded, stroked Greg's hip, gave the man
another kiss and then made himself get out of bed.

Greg shivered as he slipped from the blankets. "Can I

wear socks?"

"Sure. Just wait until it's winter. We'll turn the heat

up, but it'll still be pretty cold in the mornings."

They'd have to get Greg some socks with those

rubber nubs on the bottom so he didn't slip on the
hardwood or the tile in the kitchen. One day he'd let

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Greg wear clothes, too, but not yet. Greg wasn't ready
yet.

They headed downstairs. "I feel like pancakes for

breakfast. What do you think?"

"Okay. I can do that."
His lips twisted. Greg's ass was going to be raw if he

didn't get a handle on his use of that word. Eventually,
Greg would remember he wasn't supposed to use the
word and only would when he was jonesing for the
spanking.

They worked together easily in the kitchen, Ap

pulling down the ingredients he figured Greg would
need as Greg put together the batter. Greg worked
quickly, whistling under his breath. As always, Ap made
sure he touched a lot, that their bodies brushed. He didn't
have to be noisy to ensure that Greg knew he was there,

knew he was noticing.

By the time the pancakes hit the table, Greg was

vibrating, cock half-erect. The smell of the pancakes
was good. The smell of Greg was better.

They sat side by side, as they always did, chairs

close, so he could continue touching. He slathered his
pancakes with butter, poured on the syrup. Greg ate his
with the tiniest bit of honey.

"They're good," he managed around a mouthful. Food

was always better when they cooked it together, or when
Greg cooked it outright.

"Thank you." Greg offered him a smile. "Sir."
Warmth filled him, and he reached out to touch

Greg's arm, to squeeze Greg's hand. Greg looked away,
shy, obviously still not sure what to do with gentle care.
Ap looked forward to the day when Greg expected it as

his due instead of being surprised by it.

He glanced at Greg's hair. "So we're going to tame

that beast of a haircut, hmm?"

"I guess, yeah." Greg nodded.
"Are there any Samson-like qualities I should know

about your hair?"

Greg chuckled, shook his head. "No. No, I was mad. I

wanted to make it ugly."

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"I don't know, it has a certain charm." He winked.

"Once you're used to it."

"The man who had me wanted it long but out of my

face. I lost my temper."

"Cutting your nose off to spite your face, eh?"
"Thank God I didn't cut that off."
He chuckled, nodded.
Standing, he cleared their dishes away. Greg helped,

talking to the dogs, sneaking them bits of food as they
cleaned. Ap kept touching, rubbing is hand over Greg's
ass again and again. It was a sexy butt, cheeks fitting
just right in his hands. Greg shivered for him, body
flushing at his attention.

He smacked gently, loving the sound, the way Greg

jumped.

"What was that for?"

"Because I thought we'd both enjoy it. I know I did."
"Oh. Okay."
He swatted again, hard this time.
"Damn it!"
"We'll eradicate that word eventually." He rubbed the

sweet ass that he'd swatted. And then they'd have to find
some other reason for spankings.

"Maybe. It's like not a real word-word." Someone

had changed their tune.

"That's the problem. It's a Band-Aid you put on

everything so you don't have to look at things."

"I don't want to look at things."
He nodded, not at all surprised at Greg's words.

"Sometimes you have to, in order to move forward."

"I guess so. Is it okay not to think about him all the

time?" The words were offered over so carefully.

"It is okay to let it go, Greg. He wouldn't want you to

be stuck in a trap of mourning and sadness."

"I hope not."
God, he hoped not, too. He hoped that Greg's Tim

hadn't been a selfish master.

They went into the bathroom, and Greg perched on

the toilet. He grabbed the scissors out of the drawer,

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along with a comb. "So you just want it neatened up,
right?"

"I don't care." Greg met his eyes. "I don't want to be

ugly anymore."

He shook his head, holding Greg's gaze. "You aren't.

The hair's a bit crazy, a bit wild, but you aren't ugly."

"It's this way to be ugly."
"You aren't ugly, though. No matter how your hair

is."

"Thank you, but it's a temper tantrum for another

man. I need this to be... something else now."

"All right, if we're both ready..."
"I am." Greg didn't look scared at all.
"Okay." He gave Greg a wink at his deliberate use of

the word and then started to cut.

The hair started falling around Greg's shoulders, and

he wanted, suddenly, to see his boy bare, bald, to see
those eyes huge.

"So if I make a mess of this, we're going to just shave

it off, yeah?" It was so tempting to deliberately make a
mess of it.

"Yeah." Greg didn't seem particularly worried.
"I think you'd look amazing shaved." He smiled and

added, "All over."

"I'm yours." The words were soft and hit him in the

pit of the stomach. Greg was offering this to Ap,

offering his submission.

Ap nodded. "Then let's do it."
Greg met his eyes, a quietness there. A peace. He'd

done that. He'd guided Greg to this place. He smiled and
cupped Greg's cheek.

Greg leaned into him, just for a second. "How do we

do this?"

We didn't. He did. He was going to do this to Greg,

for Greg. "I'll cut your hair as close as possible and then
shave your head."

"Okay."
"Greg." He chuckled and shook his head.
"What?" Greg just didn't hear it.
"You said, 'Okay'."

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"Did I?"
"You did. We'll do the spanking later."
"Okay..." Greg groaned. "Fuck."
He chuckled. "Hey, at least you noticed that time."
He kept cutting, using the scissors to get Greg's hair

as short as possible. Greg stayed quiet as the man's scalp
appeared, lovely eyes seeming huge.

"I'm going to switch to the razor now."
Greg nodded, eyes falling closed. The trust was huge,

a palpable, tangible thing. Ap moved slowly, enjoying it.

He lathered up Greg's head and put a fresh blade in

his razor. He tilted Greg's head and began to shave. Greg
never spoke, never moved, and suddenly, he wasn't sure
if his boy was with him.

"Tell me what it feels like, boy."
"Wh...what?"

"How does the razor feel on your skin?"
"It tugs a little."
"Good. I don't want it to go unnoticed."
He turned Greg's head the other way and continued to

shave. Greg's skin was pale, smooth. Lovely. He slid his
hand over Greg's bare scalp, humming softly. "You feel
amazing."

Those big eyes met his. He needed to do the face,

too. God, what a turn on. Ap rubbed shaving cream over

Greg's cheeks, over his jaw and his eyebrows. Greg's
eyebrows lowered, a sudden tension in the air.

"Stay still, boy, I don't want to accidentally cut you."
"But..." Greg looked at him, eyes huge. Totally

naked. His boy was going to be totally naked. It was
time to up their training, deepen the trust between them.

He stroked his hand over Greg's scalp. "Trust me,

boy."

Greg's muscles tensed, breath speeding, but his boy

didn't move.

"Good boy." He shaved the rest of Greg's face first,

letting the anticipation build.

"I..." A soft moan left Greg. "I want up."

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"Not until I'm finished. We still have your chest and

pubes to do." He began shaving Greg's eyebrows, being
very careful in case his boy jerked reflexively.

"Oh, God." Greg was panting for him.
"You're going to be stunning, boy. And all mine."
"I..."
He nodded. "My boy." He finished shaving the

eyebrows, running his fingers over the suddenly smooth
skin. Greg whimpered, ducked his head, but there was
nothing to hide.

"Look at me, boy." Ap cupped Greg's cheeks and

tilted his head up, met those stunning eyes. "You look
amazing."

Greg sucked in one breath, another. He kissed over

one eye and then the other, licking a little so Greg could
feel the heat of his mouth.

His boy. His. Their world had changed in one simple

act. "Arms up, boy. Legs spread. Then I'll shave your
hole last."

He smiled when Greg obeyed him, and started

shaving Greg's pits. He kept touching, kept making Greg
feel his hands, his touch. Once he had the pits done, he
leaned in and kissed the right one. Then he spread the
shaving cream over Greg's chest and belly, grabbing a
new blade for the razor.

"You're mine, boy. It's time to train now. Do you

understand?"

Greg's answer was a moan. That was a yes.
He took his time, shaving Greg's chest and belly, then

his arms, then his legs. It was only then that he put in yet
another new blade and got to work on Greg's pubes.
Greg's cock was full, hot, hard, leaking at the tip.

"You feeling more than naked?" He hadn't let Greg

wear clothes in the house since day one, but this was a
whole new level of bare.

"Yeah. Yeah, I..." Greg's hands fluttered.
He grabbed one and brought it to his mouth, kissing

Greg's fingertips. "Yes?"

"I can't think. I need to run."

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"You can't run. I have you." He was proud of Greg,

though, for trusting him enough to tell him.

There was a hint of hysteria in Greg now, barely

controlled. He reached out and tweaked Greg's right
nipple, hard, insisting on the man's focus right here,
right now.

Greg jerked up, almost standing, but Ap was waiting

for it and kept him down. "No, boy."

"Fuck."
"Eventually." He smiled and rubbed Greg's lips. "You

need to learn to run into this, into us, to sink into it."

"I don't know how."
"You're doing it right now." He grabbed hold of

Greg's prick. "Hold still now."

"Okay."
He swatted the tip of Greg's cock. "Don't make me

gag you, boy." Ap held Greg's gaze until it became clear
that Greg realized what he'd said. Then Ap bent back to
his task of shaving Greg's skin clean. He shaved the
sensitive little balls and every hair over that sweet prick.

"Come a little forward now and spread your legs

out." He slipped his finger back, rubbing at Greg's hole.

Greg moved, but that little hole was hidden, still.
"Hands behind your knees, boy, pull them up." Let

him in.

"I don't know if I can." Greg gave him a panicked

look. "I don't know if my back will."

He stroked Greg's cheek. "Try, and if it starts hurting,

stop and let me know." This wasn't about pain, it was

about trust, and Greg's back was a legitimate reason to
stop and do it a different way.

"Okay." Greg grabbed his legs, and Ap snagged a

towel, propping it behind Greg's lower back before
swatting that exposed hole.

"Perfect." He grinned and swatted it again.
"Uhn." Greg's body tried to tighten, but couldn't.
"Let me just get you shaved."
Greg nodded, moaned, his boy shivering for him. He

rubbed the shaving cream around Greg's hole and then
very carefully shaved off the hair. Greg was beginning

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to sweat for him, beginning to pant. The trust was there,
though, Greg staying still as he shaved all the hair away.

His. God, he couldn't take a full breath. He'd never

had a sub make him feel this way. It took all his control
to finish the shaving without beginning to react to how
deeply this was affecting him.

At last he was done and he put the razor on the sink.

"Done. And now you need a shower -- make sure we got
all that shaving cream off." If he was going to explore
every last hairless inch, he didn't want to taste anything
but Greg.

Greg nodded, legs slowly lowering.
He helped Greg stand and then looked back, admiring

the amazing, smooth skin. "You look incredible."

Greg turned his face away, skin flushing.
"Look in the mirror," he ordered, as he turned on the

water in the shower.

"I don't..." Greg shook his head, frowning.
"I said look, boy." Ap moved to stand behind Greg,

turned him toward the mirror over the sink.

Greg's eyes were closed, muscles tense as hell. He

kissed the top of Greg's head, the bald skin smooth and
warm under his lips. Greg looked otherworldly,
stunning, bare and open. Owned.

"Open your eyes and see what my boy looks like."
Greg's eyes opened, but they were rolling like a wild

mustang's.

"Shh. Shh. It's okay, boy. Just look. You're stunning

and striking and all mine." He rubbed Greg's belly,
standing firm behind the man.

"It's not me anymore."
"Yes, it is. We've just peeled back a layer or two." He

slid his palm over Greg's scalp and danced the fingers of
his other hand around Greg's cock and balls.

Greg's thighs spread, heavy muscles quivering.
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
Greg whimpered softly, legs parting. His boy. His

beautiful boy.

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"You're all mine now. From head to toe and all points

in between. Can you feel this? Feel me on your skin
with nothing, not even a hair, between us?"

"Sir..." Greg was shaking, moaning, cock hard as a

rock and beginning to leak.

"Yes. Yes." He licked along Greg's neck, tasting the

sweet skin.

He slowly walked them to the tub, more than ever

wanting to wash every inch of his boy before
introducing Greg to the playroom. "Imagine how the
water is going to feel on your newly bared skin."

Greg's response was a deep groan.
"Exactly." He drew Greg into the tub and adjusted the

taps, keeping the flow gentle and warm.

Greg pressed against him, shivering. "So much."
"Not too much, though. Just enough." Enough to

blow others away, to put him front and center in Greg's
mind.

"Just enough. I need. I need."
"I know. I won't leave you wanting. Not for more

than a day or so anyway." He nuzzled into Greg's neck
and then grabbed the soap and slicked it between his
hands.

He loved the soft moan that he got when Greg

processed what he said.

Mouth still on Greg's neck, he slid his soapy hands

over his lover's body, touching so many places, every
place. He cleaned the tight little ring of muscles
guarding Greg's body, the soap leaving his fingers slick.
He slipped one in, unable to resist the tight heat. Slick,
smooth, and the touch made Greg pant. Perfect.

He pushed his finger in to the second knuckle and

then reached for the shampoo. Which Greg wasn't going
to need for a while, so why not use it to ease the way for
his fingers? He'd have to stock lube in here from now

on. Who knew when he'd let his boy not be so bare
again? He smiled as he slicked his fingers again.

"What are you doing?"
"Gonna open you up."
"Oh." That sweet hole jerked under his touch.

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"That's right." He teased his fingers around it, then

pushed the tips in.

Greg's body shivered, so beautifully, cock bobbing.
"So sexy like this. Stunning." He pushed his fingers

in deeper. Greg propped one leg up on the side of the
tub, spreading. "Yes." He pushed his fingers even
deeper, searching for that little spot that would drive
Greg crazy.

When he found it, Greg cried out, bucked.
"That's my boy." He hit the same spot a few more

times. Greg's muscles tensed, and he could feel the man
about to move. "You're not going anywhere." No
moving, no running, Greg was his and was staying right
here.

"I."
He worked that sweet spot, held on tight. He bit

Greg's earlobe and murmured. "You are allowed to
come, though."

"I...You're everywhere."
"Yes." He was. Greg couldn't escape him. That was

exactly what his boy needed.

He kept pegging Greg's gland. "You can come for

me, boy."

"I. Yes. I need. But--" Greg's ass tightened, the scars

on the broad back pale as the rest of the skin flushed red.

"But what, Greg?" He pushed his fingers in

insistently.

"I... Fuck. Fuck, it's so big!"
"Good. I want it to be big. I want it to be everything."

He wanted to be the only one in Greg's mind right now.

"Help me."
"I'm right here, babe. And I'm not going anywhere."
Greg nodded, leaned into him, pushed into his hand.
"Come for me. From just my fingers."
"Just you..." Greg's hole spasmed, clenched around

his fingers, then spunk sprayed from his naked boy.

"Yes. Oh, Greg. So fucking good." He kept touching,

kept stroking that tiny gland, kept his boy's focus right
there. "Whose are you, boy?"

"Y...yours. Yours."

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"That's right. All mine." He hit Greg's gland again.
Greg whimpered, hands slapping against the tile. He

latched onto Greg's neck, sucking up a lurid mark. One
with nothing at all to hide it. He scraped his teeth over it,
as a sort of icing on the cake. That sweet ass gripped his
fingers.

He noticed Greg's cock hadn't gone down in the

slightest. "My needy, stunning boy."

Now it was time for the playroom. Time to play hard.

Together.

Finally.
Fingers slipping from Greg's body, he started them

down that path.

Solitary

Chapter Eight

Ap led Greg down the hall to a door they hadn't been

through before. Greg followed, because he simply
couldn't think. All he could do was feel.

The room was large and bright, sun shining in

through the many frosted windows. There was a bed,
padded benches at several heights, and a huge armoire,
door closed at the moment. It was warm, soothing, a
huge contrast from Tim's stark, industrial dungeon.

"You like what you see?" Ap's voice was like that,

too, surrounding him in warmth where so many Masters
had been cold.

"It's warm. Comfortable." Could a place like this

bring comfort?

Ap nodded. "Yes. Good. We'll start with you on the

thigh high bench."

"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to lie on the bench on your stomach.

We're going to play. Hard." He stroked Greg's cheek --
Greg's smooth cheek.

He moaned, rubbed into the touch. "Yeah. Okay. I

can do that."

"Yes, you can." The swat to his ass made him jump,

move. "That was for the 'okay'. You know what a riding

crop is, boy?"

"I do." He had felt one before.
Once he'd climbed on the table, Ap helped him lie on

his stomach, hands warm on his skin.

"Did you like it?"
"It was a punishment for fucking up."
"This isn't going to be a punishment. This is to fly, to

see if we can't find your subspace." Ap's hands moved
over him, touching his back, his neck, his ass and legs,
touching him everywhere.

His skin was incredibly sensitive, burning, tingling,

and he fought the urge to move.

"You're stunning like this, boy."
He whimpered softly. "Thank you."

Solitary

A soft kiss landed on his ass, Ap's lips hot. He almost

sobbed, that tiny touch so loving, so gentle.

Then Ap patted his other ass cheek and moved

toward the wardrobe. "I'm just getting the crop. I'll be
right back with you in a second."

It was so quiet. So still. He could hear every move

Ap made. The man didn't leave him hanging there in the
quiet, either.

"One of the reasons why I love the crop is because

it's leather. I do love the way it smells." Ap's voice
poured over him, helped him relax.

Then the man was back by the bench he lay on, body

warm as Ap stood near him. Ap's fingers settled on the
small of his back, hard, warm, solid.

"Take a few deep breaths. Relax and find your

center."

"Okay. Yeah." He stopped, winced at himself. "I

mean, yes, sir."

A soft smack hit his bottom, hardly enough to feel.

"Nice catch, boy."

"I'm trying. I want to be good." He wanted to be

worthy.

"I know. And that makes me so proud."
The words made Greg's heart hurt, deep inside.
"Now breathe for me, boy. Calm and peaceful while

you wait for the crop." Ap's hand began to move, up and

down his back, guiding his breath. "That's right, boy. In
and out, find a good place."

He wasn't sure he would be able to find a good place,

but he did. The world got quiet and simple for a
moment. He had no clue how long they stayed like that,
Ap's hand along his spine, everything else just gone.

"Ready to start?" Ap's voice was soft, and it felt like

it was coming from far away.

"I don't know. This is so good." It was the most

honest answer he had.

"Then let's just stay right here for a bit longer."
Ap's hand slid over his skin, then slowly, he felt

himself begin to get restless, to need more.

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"I'm going to start now." It was like Ap had known

exactly when the good place had disappeared.

The first blow stung, but it wasn't surprising, more...

interesting. The next blow came crosswise to the first,
the spot where it met the first blow noticeable. His ass
tensed, relaxed, tensed again as he processed the sting.

Ap made a noise, a soft humming. The sound slid

along his spine, almost like it was another touch. He
moaned in response, shivered.

The next hit was across his shoulders, the one after

that across his ass. The crop left hard, sure lines in its
wake. He tensed, shifting, body wanting to move.

"Stay still, please, but I would like to hear you -- let

your sounds be free."

"Okay. Okay. I'll try."
Two sharp slaps of Ap's hand landed on his ass. "No.

Not 'okay' at all."

"Sorry! Sorry." He jerked up, embarrassed, angry at

himself.

"You'll eventually stop. I'm sure." Ap rubbed his ass.

"We're beginning again." The crop came down across
his ass a moment later.

Greg bit at his lips, trying hard to relax again.
"Let everything else go and concentrate on the crop,

on the pain, on each breath."

"I'm trying. This is hard."
"I know. I don't expect perfection, just effort."
"O-- Right. I can do effort."
"Good for you -- you caught yourself." Ap kissed his

right ass cheek. "You're learning."

"I'm trying. I swear." He wanted to be right, to be

desirable.

"You are. I can tell." His other ass cheek received a

kiss. Then Ap brought the crop down again, this time
across his shoulders once again.

He grunted, biting out a soft curse.
"Yes, let me hear your reactions." The crop came

down, crossing the previous stripe.

"I want to get up." Greg didn't, he didn't, but he

wanted to.

Solitary

"You can't." Two more hits landed, Ap beginning to

find a rhythm.

"I know." But he needed to tell.
"Good boy. So good. I'm proud of you." Ap spoke

slowly, matching the words to hits.

Greg hid inside himself for a second, not capable of

processing Ap's words. The crop kept dropping, though,
demanding his attention. The sting grew, the heat
building inside him. The rhythm kept pushing him
harder, higher. His legs shifted, body needing to move.

"Concentrate on the strikes."
He nodded, legs tensing and relaxing. The burn

increased, and he swore he could feel each and every
line where it lay on his back, like a bizarre grid. More
and more sounds poured out of him, raw and rough and
hungry.

"That's right. Such a good boy. Lovely sounds. You

make me so hard."

His legs jerked, and he curled his toes, bouncing

himself restlessly on the bench.

"Five more, boy. Count them down."
"F...five." The next one fell against the crack of his

ass, and he yelped. "Fuck!"

The next one fell on exactly the same spot.
"No!" He tried to stand up, the burn not as huge as

the fear.

Ap's hand landed in the small of his back and held

him in place. "Talk to me, boy."

"I. That. That's so big." That wasn't right. That was...

private.

"Specifically here?" Ap's fingers slid along his crack.
"Yeah. Yeah." He clenched.
"Why? We've made love. I've been here before." Ap's

fingers kept sliding.

"You shaved there, too." He didn't know why, it was

just so intimate.

"So why is it harder in a scene?"
"Hitting there, that's..." He started to shake. "That's

my hole!"

Solitary

Ap leaned over him, warm and solid, and spoke into

his ear. "But it and all of you are mine." Two fingers
slapped against his hole, making him cry out. "All of
you is mine. Every inch." Ap hit his hole again.

His body pushed against the bench, another wild cry

leaving him.

"All mine." The crop slid along his crack, touched his

hole.

"I. I. Oh, God." His body shuddered, the foreign

touch so huge.

The crop disappeared, then came back, slick. Ap

pushed the top of it into his hole.

Greg cried out, eyes feeling like they were going to

bug out of his head. "Sir!"

"Yes. Yes, I'm here, boy. Right here." The crop

pushed in a little deeper.

One hand landed on the small of his back, solid and

hot. Centering. In and out went the crop, the thin, hard
leather fucking his ass. Harsh sounds, almost like sobs,
left him, his world spinning.

"That's it, boy. Let it all out; give me everything."
He gulped in air, head tossing as the world spun.
Kisses peppered his back, hotter than anything on the

places where the crop had hit. The crop that was inside
him. Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Pushing into him again and
again.

"All stunning. All mine. Boy."
"Help me." He didn't know what to do.
The crop stilled, stopped right there inside him.

Before he could panic, it was pulled out and he was
tugged until his legs were completely off the bench, toes

touching the floor as Ap spread his legs.

"What?" He held onto whatever he could reach.
"I'm helping." A kiss landed on the top of his spine,

the head of Ap's cock pressing against his hole.

"Oh..." He cried out, leaned back against the

pressure. Ap pushed slowly in, the stretch intense,
burning. "Sir." He rolled back, needing that pressure
inside him.

Solitary

"I won't leave you wanting, boy." Ap continued to

push and push, filling him deep.

His skin burned -- whipped and bare and odd.

Groaning, Ap sank all the way into him. He gasped,
groaned, body fighting for a long moment before
relaxing, taking Ap deep,

A soft kiss landed at the base of his neck. "That's my

boy."

Oh. Oh, damn. The gentleness undid him, his sob

surprising him.

Another kiss touched his skin, and then Ap started to

move. The sensation was huge -- bigger than he could
have imagined, his entire focus on his hole. Ap took
long strokes, pulling all the way out and then pushing
back in again, spreading his hole over and over.

The world stopped moving, his heart stopped, his

mind stopped. He just felt. It was like magic, like he and
Ap were the only things that existed. Like all he needed
to do was trust in his lover.

It went on and on, he didn't know for how long, and

really, it didn't matter anyway. Finally, blessedly, he
melted into the bench, taking everything Ap gave.

When Ap's hand wrapped around his cock, he was

startled; he hadn't even realized he'd gotten hard. He
wasn't sure he wanted to come, if he wanted to do that
much.

But then Ap whispered the word across his neck,

breath hot on his skin. "Come."

His body convulsed, spunk spraying from him at that

single, soft word. He felt Ap jerk against him, coming.

Greg blinked, the room swimming before his eyes. Ap
slid away and turned him, drew him up against the solid
body.

He wrapped his arms around Ap, held on. "Stay?"
"I'm not going anywhere, Greg."
"Thank you." He just needed to rest for a little while.

Right here.

He thought Ap would let him.

***

Solitary

Ap watched the early morning sunlight on Greg's

bare skin. Stunning. And his. Greg looked so at peace as
he slept.

The bare skin was fascinating -- the look almost

alien, totally submissive. It made him ache. He reached
out, slid his hand over the smooth skin. He could touch
every inch and then touch it all again until the end of
time.

Greg moaned, shivered, and pushed closer. Ap loved

that, the instinct to push toward him instead of pull
away. He dropped a kiss on Greg's shoulder and moved
his hands softly over Greg's back, admiring the welts the
crop had left on the lovely skin.

Greg whimpered softly, wrapped around him,

obviously comforting himself.

"I've got you, boy." He pressed another kiss to Greg's

skin, this time on his boy's skull.

"I slept hard. I didn't dream."
"That's a good thing, hmm?" No nightmares, no

things that went bump in the night.

"Yes. I think so."
He kissed Greg's skull again. It was so hot without

the hair to hold that heat in.

"Oh, God." Greg's hand rose up, touched the bare

skin.

"Mmm. You're stunning." He slid his own hand over

Greg's skull, over Greg's face without its eyebrows. He

wouldn't let Greg think for a minute that Ap didn't find
him absolutely beautiful, and fascinating, too.

"I'd forgotten."
"Yeah? You really are stunning like this. Your eyes

are huge." He kissed one missing eyebrow.

"It's hard to breathe."
"You've been breathing just fine all night long." Ap

covered Greg's mouth and blew air into his lungs.

Greg gasped, eyes wide.
"See? Breathing."
"Yeah." He could feel Greg pulling into himself.

Solitary

It made him take a kiss, hard and sure. He was right

there; Greg didn't need to go anywhere.

There was going to be guilt today. He knew it. Greg

had submitted yesterday, given in, and today he was
going to stress it. Ap's job would be to help Greg work
through that as quickly as possible, to come out the
other side much happier.

He kept touching the man's scalp, underarms, crotch,

the smooth skin. They felt amazing under his touch,
silky, warm.

"I...I need to get up."
"Not until I say so."
Greg growled, the sound making him happy, that

Greg trusted him enough to fight. He kept touching,
kissing Greg's forehead, his skull.

"I have to get up." Greg's arms wrapped around

himself. And Ap wrapped his arms around Greg,
holding on tight. "I have to get up and move."

"I'm not letting you run away."
Greg struggled, pushing him. "Let me go, man."
"No. No, you're mine, and I say you're staying." He

licked along Greg's cheek.

Greg growled under his breath, almost fighting Ap

physically now. Ap wrapped one leg around Greg's,
further anchoring his boy to him.

"I need to get up." Greg was beginning to pant for

him.

"I'm not going to bother to say no again." He nipped

at Greg's lower lip, his fingers stroking the small of
Greg's back. The scars from the surgery were straight,

flat, tickling his fingertips. He traced them, danced his
fingers through them and around them.

"My... Tim used to say they were his, those scars. I

didn't think about him yesterday, at all."

"And now you're feeling guilty." Suddenly, Greg's

need to get up, to run, made even more sense. It was less
what they'd done, what Greg had let him do, and more
that Greg had become completely lost in it.

Greg shrugged. "I don't know."
Ap snorted. "That almost sounded like 'okay'."

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"It wasn't." Growly boy.
"But it was you fobbing off my question." He kept

touching, refusing to let Greg pull into himself.

"I loved him. I forgot about him."
"That doesn't mean you don't love him; it means

you're healing. I doubt he'd want you to be miserable for
the rest of your life." Not if the man had loved Greg in
return.

Greg groaned, hid that bald face in his hands.
"No. No hiding from me. You can't anymore anyway.

You're exposed now."

"Stop it! Leave me alone! You're always here!"
Oh, there. He almost smiled. It felt so good, to have

Greg trust him with this.

"I am. And so are you."
"I NEED UP!" The roar was impressive.

He wrapped his leg tighter around Greg's and shook

his head. "No." Come on, he thought, fight me on it.
Really let go.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Greg's muscles bunched as he

screamed, Greg twisting and tugging at his grip.

"Not nice to call me names."
"Let me go! You bastard! You made me fall in love

with you!"

Oh. Ap felt like he'd been hit in the stomach, except

that it was a good punch, one that he'd wanted, even
though he'd kept that want from himself. He kissed the

top of Greg's head again, then over Greg's left eye and
held on even tighter.

"I hate this." Greg sobbed softly, fighting him.
"No you don't. You think you should, but you don't,

and that's what's hard." He ran a single hand up and
down Greg's spine, holding on with the other.

"You have to let me go." Greg's arms wrapped

around him, held him tight.

"I absolutely do not. You're mine, Greg. My boy."

Greg had to hear that as much as he needed to feel Ap's
touches; the man needed to know he belonged.

Solitary

Greg moaned, tears staining the sweet cheeks.

Bending, Ap licked them from Greg's skin, tasting the
fear and the pain and the need along with the salt.

"I don't know what to do."
"You're doing it, Greg. You're dealing with your life,

with your pain."

"I'm tired of dealing with shit. I'm tired and angry."
"Tell me about the anger."
"What?" Greg stilled, stopped moving for a second.
"Why are you angry?" He would dig and dig until

Greg had given everything up to him.

"Because I am. Because I... I'm lost in this. It's good."
"You're angry because what we have between us is

good?" The logic seemed kind of twisted, but he was
pretty sure it made sense to Greg, even if only to Greg,
so he'd keep pushing.

"I cried forever after Tim died!"
"Then it's about time you stopped crying and began

living again." He imagined that was so much easier for
him to say than for Greg to do. Maybe pain and sorrow
and unhappiness became a way of life that was hard to
turn.

Greg sighed, eyes closing.
"You're allowed to be angry, and you're allowed to

cry, but I don't think either of those things are doing you
much good." It was time for Greg to fight for what he
had instead of rail against what he'd lost.

"I'm not sure I wanted things that were good."
"But now you do?" Had Greg even noticed he'd

spoken in the past tense?

"Now it is."
"You mean you have it whether you want it or not,

hmm?"

"I mean I keep trying to think about what to do."
He stroked Greg's back, trying to figure out exactly

what the problem was, what Greg meant.

"I didn't try to fall for you. I didn't expect for this to

be my place."

It wasn't the time to tell Greg so, but he was pleased

to hear Greg say those words, to mean them.

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"But you did and it is and I'm not sure what's wrong

with that."

"I'm not, either." Greg chuckled softly. "Maybe I'm

just an idiot who can't remember how to be happy."

Now that fit in to what he'd been thinking, about

Greg being stuck in feeling bad. "Maybe you need to
relearn how."

"Maybe." Greg was relaxing for him, letting him hold

and comfort.

He kept the touch firm; Greg would know it was his

touch, not anyone else's. Greg's lips moved over his
shoulder, the barest caress. He hummed, letting Greg
know he liked it. Greg stayed with him, quiet and
relaxed, breathing against his skin.

He took it as a win, maybe even a bigger one than the

scene they'd done together yesterday. They had

something to build on now. Something substantive.

Solitary

Chapter Nine

Greg wandered, the dogs following him quietly,

avoiding mirrors, doing the chores that he did, kept
himself busy. Kept his man silent.

He'd let Ap shave his eyebrows. He'd let Ap whip

him. He'd come.

Ap was working at his desk, typing away on his

laptop.

Greg finally headed into the mudroom, put on his

overalls and boots, and went outside to work. The dogs
stuck around for a bit, but once they realized he was just
cutting wood, they headed into the woods together on
the trail of god knew what.

He was hot and sweaty, his arms getting tired of

swinging the axe, when he realized Ap was on the

porch, watching him. His hands slipped on the next
swing, and it jostled him, hard.

"That's enough now, boy. Time to come in." Ap's

words were very firm.

He nodded, sweating, the hard work leaving him

dizzy and shaking.

Ap frowned. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Huh?"
"Food? Have you had any since breakfast?"
"I had coffee and some juice."
Ap shook his head and growled a little. "You know

that's not enough to keep a flea alive, let alone a man
working like you were."

"I was busy."
"You should be busy taking care of yourself." Ap

sure could growl when he wanted to.

"I'm fine." It felt good, to push. He hadn't, not on

purpose, in so long, maybe ever. He'd tried so hard to be
what Tim wanted.

Ap snorted. "No, you're not."
"I am, too." He was actually getting hard, just from

the back and forth.

"Get in the kitchen and have something to eat." Ap

gave him a long look, heat in the man's eyes. "Now."

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100

"I'm fine, okay?" Please. Please, he was so tense.
Oh, fuck, Ap's growl made him even harder. "I'll

bend you over a kitchen chair for your spanking."

Ap pushed the zipper down on his coveralls, shoving

them off his shoulders.

When he didn't move to get out of them, Ap pulled

them down roughly to his knees and then slapped his
thigh. "Step out of them."

He lifted his foot, stumbling with the cloth and the

boots, his cock bobbing high between his legs.

Ap was there to catch him, arms strong, chest solid

where he landed against it. "Oh yeah, sure you're just
fine."

"I'm good. Just sweaty." And horny. And wanting.

And, yeah, starving.

Ap grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together as

he was led to the kitchen. "Food first."

His free hand went to his back, rubbing his scars.

"Yeah. Okay." He winced, groaned. "Damn it."

"Your back?" Ap's fingers were immediately there,

working the bundle of nerves.

"Oh..." Greg leaned forward, the world going sparkly

around the edges.

"Here." Ap pulled him into the kitchen. "Hands on

the counter." Ap helped him get leaning on the counter

and started working on his back.

"Master." The room spun around him, and he gulped

in air.

"Stay put." Ap's hands disappeared and a moment

later a buttered piece of bread was put down in front of
him. "Eat that."

"Okay." He ate the bread, the yeasty warmth

suddenly so good. It felt like his belly had claws in it,
the pain easing as he ate.

Ap's fingers were back at the base of his spine, easing

the pain and tightness there.

"Master." The word slipped from him in a whisper.
"Yes. That's right." A soft kiss landed on the back of

his neck. "Feeling better?"

He nodded. "Thank you."

Solitary

101

"Then it's time for your spanking."
He surprised himself by nodding again.
"Good boy. If it isn't too hard on your back, lean over

the back of one of the chairs."

He moved, bent over, stretching himself.
"Mmm. You have a lovely backside." Ap's fingers

slid over it, cupping his cheeks, rubbing on him.

"Thank you?" He needed help. Sensation.
"Yes, boy. I'll give you what you need." Somehow,

Ap always knew.

He felt the first smack all the way to his toes. Greg

gasped, the sting rocking him, bone deep. Fuck. More.
He wanted more. Ap gave him more, a second smack,
followed by a third and then a fourth.

After the seventh and eighth, he groaned. "I didn't say

it that much."

"No, but you need it this much."
God, yes. More. He needed more. He wanted to lose

control, to scream and stomp and breathe again. A soft
kiss landed on his spine, and then Ap's hand began to
smack him again. The blows weren't vicious, but they
were strong, jarring him, making promises that he'd feel
all day.

"I love your ass with my handprints on it."
The next blow was to his crack, and he cried out. The

one after that was much softer, but it nudged his balls.
He jerked forward, gasping for air. Ap hummed happily,

hit him again. His ass was burning in the best way
possible.

"I need..."
"I know, boy. You need so well."
The words made him moan, made his hips jerk and

roll.

"When I'm done spanking you, I'm going to take your

ass. I'm going to fill you while your skin burns from my
hand."

He moaned softly, nodded. Needed.
"Then I'm going to plug you and take you into the

playroom for our work."

"Please."

Solitary

102

"Good, boy."
Ap had a half dozen more swats for him, each one

settling the burn into his skin. The last one had him
almost in tears, almost. Then Ap rubbed his ass cheeks.

Ap had told him it was going to happen, but it was

still a surprise when two slick fingers pushed at his hole.
He spread, went up on tiptoe, his body gripping Ap's
fingers.

"Sweet boy. So nice and tight."
"Boy." The word made his mouth dry.
"That's right. You're my boy. All mine. This." Ap's

fingers pushed in deep. "Mine."

Burned. It burned. So good. Ap's lips slid along his

spine, down near where the scars were, where the pain
would gather.

"Oh." His breath came faster, panic right under the

skin.

"I've got you," Ap said, kissing the base of Greg's

spine and pushing his fingers in deep, hitting Greg's
gland.

He reached out, fingers wrapping around the edge of

the table as pure electricity slammed through him.

"Mmm. Right there, that's the magic spot." Ap

pushed his fingers against it again.

Greg's lips opened and closed, over and over, the

world spinning around him. Fuck. A third finger pushed

into him, this one slick, easing the way for all three.

"Full." Burning again. So good. So right.
"Hot. Tight. Love touching you, boy."
He canted his hips, rocked, taking more and more.
"I'm going to have you, boy." Ap's words filled him.
"Have me. Oh, god. Please. So full of you..."
"That's right, boy." Ap's fingers spread him wider.
All he could do was feel. So big.
Ap's fingers slid away. "You ready for me now?"
"Please. Please." His hips were still moving like those

fingers were still inside him.

"Just getting the rubber, boy. You be patient."
His answer was a groan, the table squeaking as his

fingers tightened. He hated that word. Hated it.

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He heard a drawer open and close, heard the crinkle

of the wrapper. Hurry. Hurry. Damn it. His hole was
empty, needing.

Then Ap's heavy prick was at his hole, hot and

insistent, pushing inside him. His body opened, slick
and swollen, ready for more sensation, more stretch.
Ap's prick slowly pushed into him, filling him so well.

"Master." He pushed back, wanting more.
"Sweet, greedy boy." Ap kept pushing until that thick

cock bumped against his gland.

Greg's head slammed back, his throat working as he

moaned out his need.

"I have you, boy." Ap pulled away, the thick cock

sliding out before slamming back home again.

There. Right there. He needed. There.
Again and again, Ap pushed into him, his hit gland

and made his body sing. Low, needy sounds poured out
of him, all his focus on his cock, his hole.

"No coming until I give you permission."
He sobbed his agreement, the pressure in his balls

amazing.

Ap's hands wrapped around his hips, pulling him

back into each magnificent thrust. His want became
need, and he started pleading, wanting to come. Ap's
answer was a sharp tug to his balls, leaving him gasping
and squeezing that hard cock, dizzy.

"When I say, boy." Harder and harder, Ap pushed

into him, filled him like no one else ever had. No one.

Every time he got close, that tug came again, until he

wanted to scream with it.

"Could do this all day, boy."
"I'll lose my mind..." He hadn't jacked off in weeks.

Weeks. He'd only come at Ap's command since he got

here.

"Just go with it, boy. Feel me. Feel us."
He did scream, short and frustrated, but that freed a

spot in his chest, let him breathe again.

"Yeah. Let me hear you, boy. Let me hear it all."

Each word came with another thrust, a slap as their
bodies slammed together.

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"I need to come!" It burned inside him and nothing

had ever felt so good.

"You'll wait until I say you can." Ap punched into

him a couple more times. "Or I'll have to punish you."

"Oh, fuck." Hot. Hot, he wanted it. So bad.
Ap kept fucking him, fingers digging into his hips

and making sure his gland got nailed over and over.

"Motherfucker!" His balls drew up, and he squeezed,

shooting hard.

"Mmm. You came, boy. I'm going to have to punish

you when I'm finished here."

He didn't have the breath to argue.
"Gonna be so good. You and me and the playroom."

Ap's words were starting to be more gasps than anything
else, but that rhythm didn't falter.

He nodded, moaned, tightened his ass. Grunting, Ap

kept moving, hand wrapping around his cock and
making sure he didn't go soft. The burn was perfect --
too much and not enough and just fucking right.

He knew Ap was losing it when the rhythm faltered,

when the hand around his cock squeezed tight. Greg
bore down as hard as he could, giving Ap as much
sensation as he could muster.

"That's it boy. Yes! Yes!"
The praise made him ache, made him moan, low and

deep.

"Almost there, boy. Almost." Ap slammed into him.
He nodded, thrust back, took Ap to the root.
"Yes!" Ap stayed right there, cock pulsing inside

him.

Yes. Yes. He moaned, worked that fat cock.
"So good." Ap collapsed over his back, kissed the

back of his neck. "My boy."

Greg nodded, right there, so present. Him and Ap in

the kitchen. His ass, Ap's cock. God, he was right

fucking there.

Ap's tongue got busy, licking at him, sucking at his

skin. He groaned, ass clenching, skin going sensitive.
The suction continued, kisses that pulled at his skin.

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"So good." His words barely had breath, but he knew

Ap heard him.

"Yes. You are. This is."
Ap slid out of him, cock leaving him empty. His hole

clenched, body wanting Ap's heat back.

Something hard and slick pressed against his hole.

"Take it in, boy."

"What?" His body pushed back, instinctively.
"A plug. Keep you ready for me for next time."
The plug spread him, stretched his hole. Once Ap had

it seated, he patted Greg's ass, jostling it slightly. Each
touch made Greg grunt a little.

"Sexy boy. You make me want to do so many wicked

things to you." Another kiss landed on his neck. "I'm
gonna make your skin sing."

"Please." He needed.

"Come on, boy." Ap helped him stand.
His legs were shaky, but he followed, ass working the

plug with every step. He realized when they got into the
playroom that he had no real idea what Ap was in to.

He also realized he didn't care. Whatever it was, he

needed. And whatever he needed, Ap would give him.

***

Ap watched the way Greg moved with that plug in

his ass. He just might have to make it a rule that Greg
wore one all the time. The way the man moved with it
in... It was enough to make him hard again.

They went to the playroom, and he contemplated

what Greg needed. Something strong, something that
would take all of Greg's focus and push him into his
subspace.

It had taken weeks and week of patience, waiting for

Greg to be strong enough to submit, but it was time. The
scene with the crop had been an amazing beginning, but
now Greg needed more. Greg needed to stretch. Burn.
Embrace his life.

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Ap closed the door behind them, symbolically

closing out the world. Greg turned, looked at him with
serious eyes.

"Yes, boy?" He was always open to what Greg had to

say.

"Nothing." Greg offered him a tiny shrug. "I don't

know what to do next."

"That's all right, because I do." He cupped Greg's

cheek, caressing.

Greg's eyes closed, trusting him, so much.
"Whole hog today, I believe. Clamps for your nipples

and a ring for your cock. You're already wearing my
plug."

Greg swallowed hard, and he led the man deeper into

the room.

"Lie down on the bed. I'll get all the things we'll

need. And a paddle." They definitely needed a paddle.

Greg settled on the bed, curled in on himself.
"No, boy. One your back, spread for me." There

would be no hiding.

Greg's face turned bright red, and his boy slowly

started to move.

He grabbed the things he'd need and returned to the

bed, eyes on Greg. "A little wider."

The way that belly went tight was an addiction.

Greg's prick was still hard, leaking at the tip. It made

him lick his lips. For so many weeks, Greg hadn't been
aroused, eager, but now. Now he was, and it was
intoxicating. Ap could spend months exploring Greg,
maybe years. It was a good thing they had all the time
they wanted. Needed.

His bare, bald man. His boy. Ap groaned, the

pleasure so intense it ached. He slid his hands up along
Greg's legs, moving toward the hard prick. Greg's
muscles vibrated, jumped -- less from nerves, he
thought, than from anticipation.

"Ring first. Your package is going to look obscene

with it on." Obscene in the best possible way. He loved
how his boy blushed.

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He rubbed his thumbs along the insides of Greg's

thighs. Soft, bare, pale -- so vulnerable. He nudged the
base of Greg's balls next, jostling them gently. Ap could
smell Greg now, male and strong. Groaning, he leaned
in and licked the drops at the tip of Greg's cock.

"Oh..." Greg's fingers brushed through his hair.
He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked

hard, but just for a moment, before backing away. Greg's
hips jerked up, tried to follow his lips. He loved that.

Smiling, he slid on the cock ring, pushing it right to

the base of Greg's cock. Then he wrapped the leather
straps around the fat, heavy balls. He tightened the
whole thing; damn, but Greg looked sexy -- skin all
bare, cock and balls up front and emphasized thanks to
the ring. It made him want to drool.

Greg moaned, eyes closing again, squeezing tight.

"No, open your eyes, boy. You need to see this."
The moan he got was almost pained, but Greg's eyes

started to open. He flicked the tip of Greg's prick to get
his boy's attention, Greg's focus. Those eyes went wide,
hips bucking up, fucking the air.

"Look at yourself. Look. You're like beautiful,

pornographic art."

His boy moaned, head shaking.
"Look."
"I don't want to." Greg looked, though.
"You're going to do it anyway." Even if it took them

all day long to get there.

"I know." That was a growl. It was also an admission

of submission.

He pressed a kiss on Greg's lips instead of chuckling.

"So look."

"I look so different. Bare."
"You look like mine now." No one else had ever

done this to Greg. No one had known him like this. This
was theirs alone.

"I have been for a while now."
"Yes, you have." His boy was beautiful and strong

and smart. And this show of ownership only gave

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outward confirmation of something that was already
true.

He slid his hands over the hot flesh of Greg's cock

and balls, admiring them. That earned him a soft little
gasping cry, Greg's legs shifting.

"How's that plug feel? You need a bigger one in?" He

slid his hands between Greg's legs and pushed at the
base of the plug.

"No..." Greg nodded, though, hunger sharp in his

eyes.

"I thought you might."
He jostled the plug again and then went to the

drawers and found a bigger one, one that Greg would
really feel. That and a spreader bar, something he could
attach to the ceiling chains, spread those legs wide, lift
Greg and expose him.

Ap grabbed that from the bottom drawer and went

back over to the bed, putting the stuff down next to
Greg. "We're going to make a whole day of it." Or night
of it. Evening, he supposed, if he wanted to get pedantic.
Really, he didn't give a shit about anything but the two
of them here and now.

Greg's eyes went wide.
"You know what the spreader bar is?" He held it up

so Greg could take a better look.

"Spreads my legs?"
"That's right. Have you used one before?" Putting it

down, he slid his hands along Greg's legs, spreading
them.

"No. No, my back wasn't strong enough before."
Actually, Ap thought Greg's back could use the

relaxation, the support. This wasn't about twisting Greg
up; it was about making things hold position easier and

without strain. Ap attached the leather cuffs for the
spreader bar around each ankle.

Greg's legs were spread wide, muscles trembling a bit

with the effort to hold them in place.

Ap got the bar attached to the cuffs and then grabbed

the chains and attached them to the bar. Then it was just

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a matter of getting things adjusted just right. He made
the chains shorter until it looked just about right.

"Comfy?" he asked, once Greg was beautifully

spread, slightly lifted, and it looked like the chains and
spreader bar were doing all the work, leaving Greg to
just relax into the position.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's good."
"You tell me if it starts being hard on your back."

That was not the kind of pain they were into here.

"Okay."
He let his hand fly.
"Fuck!"
"The rules still apply, boy. And that is one I have no

plans to rescind."

"Yes. Sorry. Fuck."
His boy would learn. Soon, that word would mean,

"please, sir, I need your hand, I need your attention."

"It'll come. Eventually you'll never even dream of

saying it." He rubbed Greg's ass where he'd smacked
him.

"Eventually." Greg relaxed, almost smiled.
"Then you'll have to say it just to get the spanking

you crave so much."

Greg's fingers clenched, his belly going tight.
Ap grabbed the base of the plug and spun it, turned it

inside Greg's body. The one he was going to use next
was harder, wider, unmistakable. Unforgettable. He
couldn't wait to put it in. He tugged, pulling the original
plug out. Greg gasped, sweet tiny hole red and pouting
for him. He slicked his fingers up, teased two right
there.

"I want you to let me in, boy. I want your body open

for me."

Greg's answer was a moan. He pressed his fingers in

as Greg made the sound, his two fingers spreading more
lube around. Sweet, swollen -- his boy felt so good to

him. He stroked the silk walls inside Greg's body,
stretched his fingers wider apart, before adding more
lube and working it in.

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Soon Greg's abs were clenching, trying to rock into

his touch. It was harder, though, with Greg's legs trussed
up as they were, for him to get proper movement.
Leaning down, Ap pressed a kiss to one lovely ab
muscle, then licked the tip of Greg's cock, taking in the
light salt of his pre-come. Ap felt the effects of his kiss,
around his fingers.

Humming, he took one of the bound balls in his

mouth, tongue lashing it.

"Ap..." That was a shocked little sound. He loved

that, being able to surprise Greg so.

Greg's legs tried to close, the cuffs around his ankles

rattling. Ap pushed his fingers into Greg's gland. The
cry he got made his balls ache. He grabbed the big dildo
and slicked it up. Greg's eyes were on him, on his hands.

He grinned up at Greg. "You'll like it, that it's big."

"It's huge."
"You'll love it."
"I trust you."
"I know." It was so sexy, that trust.
"I've not had such a big one in a while..." That pretty

cock was full.

And Ap knew exactly what Greg had had recently.

"You're good and stretched." He placed the head of the
dildo at Greg's ass.

That sweet, swollen hole spread for him, almost

kissing the tip of the fake cock. It made him groan, and
he pushed the dildo in a little, just the tip. Greg's legs

went tight, pulling against the spreader bar.

He rubbed one thigh. "Shh. Easy boy, you'll like

this."

Greg could spread and spread for him, he knew it. He

kept pushing, opening Greg up as slowly as possible.
Whenever he pushed a little deeper, he then backed
away, making Greg wait for it.

"How does it feel, boy?"
"Big. I'm full."
"Oh, not yet. You're nowhere near full." To prove it,

he pressed the dildo in a little farther.

"Uh-huh..." Greg's eyelids got heavy.

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"Nope." He kept pushing the fake cock in.
"Oh, God..." Greg started rocking, responding to him.
"There we go, that's it. So good, boy. So good." He

watched as Greg fucked himself on the dildo, in slow,
little motions. He was so hard himself now his balls
ached, his cock leaking. He'd never seen anything as
sexy as his boy. "Keep going, boy. Fuck yourself for
me."

He could watch this all night long. "Give me a good

show, boy."

Greg hid his face in those square hands.
"No, I don't think so. Hands up, or I tie them there."

He didn't wait for Greg to move; he grabbed the cuffs,
snapping one around one wrist. "Maybe it's better you
don't have to remember to hold on." He got the cuff
around the other wrist, managing the whole thing one-

handed.

Greg's eyes watched every move he made.
"Now. Go ahead and fuck yourself on my dildo."
Greg moved, stiff and awkward now, like stopping

had made him lose his grace. Ap almost -- almost --
laughed. Bending, he licked one nipple, circled with his
tongue, and then licked it again. He knew how to get
Greg back in the groove.

It only took a few nibbles, a few murmured words of

praise, and Greg was moving again. He licked at Greg's
cock, loving the taste of the wetness there.

"Oh..." Greg tried to move faster, muscles rolling.
"Mmm." He started helping, pushing the dildo in,

tugging it back out. Wrapping his lips around the head
of Greg's prick, he sucked gently.

"I. Oh, good. More. More, please."
He hummed, knowing it would vibrate through

Greg's body. Then he sucked a little harder, pushing
more of the dildo into Greg's ass. Greg's thighs went
tight, hard, as the man fought to take more.

"Needy boy." He loved that, loved the way Greg

wanted him when Greg focussed on just that.

"Yes." Greg nodded, groaned, teeth bared.

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"Let's get a rhythm going here, boy." He pushed the

dildo in all the way, making Greg jump as he drove it
home. Then he pulled it slowly out again. Then in. Then
out. Then in again.

"Oh. Oh, fuck." Greg nodded, shoulders leaving the

mattress.

He kept moving the dildo, keeping it slow enough

that Greg could work with him, despite the spreader bar,
despite the cuffs.

"So full..." Greg's eyes rolled as Ap scraped the tip

across his gland.

"Good, though, hmm?" Ap wouldn't let Greg deny

the pleasure.

"Mmm..."
He hit Greg's gland again.
"Tell me how much you love it." He hit that spot

again.

"Oh. Please."
"Tell me!" He slammed the dildo in.
"Fuck!" The chains rattled. "Oh, fuck!"
"That's not telling me." He slammed it in again.
"I... I don't know... what do you want?"
"For you to tell me how good it feels."
"So good. Please. Please, Ap. Sir. Master. More. So

fucking good."

"That's what I like to hear." He started fucking Greg's

ass again.

"More. More. Fuck... I can't. I need." Babbling now.

Ap loved it.

He leaned in and licked that sweet, wet slit, his hand

still working Greg's hole with the dildo.

Greg pulled hard at the cuffs, chains rattling

violently. "Yes!"

He pushed that dildo even harder as he took half his

boy's cock in his mouth. Salt flooded his lips, his boy
coming hard for him. He swallowed it down, Greg's
flavor filling him. He licked and lapped at the head,
giving Greg more sensation, almost too much. When he
finally pulled off, Greg was still hard, body twitching.

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Perfect. He reached out, pinched one nipple, twisting

it to take the clamp. It firmed up immediately for him,
going nice and hard and eager in anticipation.

"Master." The word was husky, low.
"That's right, boy." He placed the clamp, let it bite

Greg's nipple.

"Fuck." The word was bitten out, nearly growled.
"Eventually." Grinning, he flicked the clamp,

knowing he was overloading Greg with one sensation
after another, driving his boy higher and higher. He also
knew Greg's ass was working the dildo.

He encouraged the other nipple to bead up.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Master, it stings."
"Mmmhmm. It's a good sting, isn't it?"
"Yes. God, yes."
"Good, boy." He flicked both clamps as a reward.

Greg's response was a jerk, a moan.
He licked Greg's belly, breathing in the warmth of his

boy's skin. "You're mine, hmm?"

Greg nodded, moaned.
"From the top of your head." He slid his hand over

Greg's bare scalp. "All the way to your toes." Moving
down Greg's body, he tickled those toes.

They curled, Greg's lips parting for him. He slid his

fingers back up along Greg's legs to his middle.

"Now that I have you all trussed up, what shall I do

with you?"

"I don't know."
He chuckled. "That's okay, boy. I have an idea or

three." Hundred.

"Please."
He adjusted the chains holding the spreader bar,

tugging Greg up just a bit more, giving him better access
to the lovely, slightly pink from spanking ass. Enough
for him to paddle. He let his fingers drag along the skin,
pet.

"I'm going to darken the skin here, paddle it a dark

red."

"Why?"

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"Because you crave it." Greg needed this kind of

thing, needed to be seen, to be made to focus. Needed to
moan. He knew it deep in his soul.

Ap grabbed the paddle and showed it to Greg. "One

side is smooth and the other is rough."

He slid first the smooth side, and then the rough one,

over Greg's cock. He chuckled at the gasp, the way Greg
tried to pull away. He rubbed both sides along Greg's
prick one more time and then slid the smooth side along
Greg's exposed ass cheeks. He watched the heavy glutes
tighten, relax.

"We'll start smooth and move to the rough side once

you've worked up a sweat."

The only answer he got was a nod.
"What was that, boy?"
"Yes. Yes, okay. Sir."

He smacked Greg's ass with the flat of his hand. "Not

okay. Yes, sir is good, okay is not."

"Okay. Okay. Fuck!"
He swatted Greg's ass twice more, hard too, both

times.

"Goddamn it! Fuck!"
He could see his handprints. "Luckily, we both enjoy

the spankings so much." Although Greg might learn not
to say 'okay' faster if he didn't.

"It's not a bad fucking word!"
He swatted again, just because he could. "All that

matters is that I've told you I don't want to hear it from
your lips." He met Greg's eyes, their noses almost

touching. "Be good, boy, or I'll make more rules."

Greg groaned.
Then he gave Greg one more swat for good measure.
"Paddling time. You ready for it, boy?"
"No."
"It's going to happen anyway."
He used the smooth side of the paddle, swinging it

and letting it hit Greg's right cheek. The crack was
sharp, satisfying him to the bone. He did it again, on the
same cheek, then again. How many times would he have

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to hit the right cheek before Greg begged for him to give
the other one the same treatment?

The one hard muscled cheek turned a dark red, Greg's

cries growing sharp and harsh. He tested the cheek,
pressing his finger against it, watching the skin go white
before the color came screaming back in.

"FUCK!" Oh, yes. Someone was feeling it.
He made a happy little noise of his own and then

gave that same cheek two more swats with the paddle.
He'd have to switch without being prompted by Greg
because this side was pretty much as dark a red as he
was willing to go.

"Please. Please. No more. Please, sir."
"No, it's time for the other cheek, boy. You're

uneven." He patted the still only lightly rose ass cheek.

"No more..." Greg twisted, eyes clenched shut.

"Yes, more." He swatted Greg's left cheek with the

paddle this time, then did it again.

Greg tensed, legs fighting the spreader bar.
He grabbed hold of Greg's prick and began to stroke

it. "Ease up, boy, and sink into it."

"It burns. Help me. I'm... Help me." It was so hard,

that total submission.

He took Greg's chin in his hand and looked into his

boy's eyes. "I'm right here, Greg. All you need to do is

breathe and sink into the blows."

"How? How do you do this?"
"You know how. Let your body guide you, Greg." He

smacked Greg with the paddle again.

Greg screamed, the sound wild, free.
"Yes!" He smacked Greg again.
"No!" He earned another scream, then another, Greg

trusting him with them. He found a rhythm, Greg's left
cheek slowly going as dark as the right.

"Please." He wasn't sure what Greg was begging for.

He wasn't sure Greg knew, either.

"What, boy?"
Greg moaned. "Master..."
He shook his head. "No coming yet."

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He touched the fat plug, tapped the base, just to hear

Greg cry out. He flicked both nipple clamps after that,
watching Greg's face.

"Stings."
He tugged one a little harder. "I know." He tugged

again and then laid two more swats down on Greg's left
ass cheek.

"Burns. Fuck, it burns."
"I know." He swatted each cheek one more time.
"Let me go..."
Never. Not ever. "I don't think so."
Bending, he took off the right clamp and wrapped his

mouth around the abused flesh. Greg arched, nipple hot
and swollen in his lips. He sucked on it, flicked it with
his tongue, then he let it go and blew on it. Dark red and
peaked, that little nip begged for abuse.

He left the other clamp on, flicking it once again for

good measure, and continued to suck and bite at the
freed nub of flesh. The symphony of sounds pouring
from Greg made his cock ache, made him bite harder,
tug at Greg's nipple.

Ap reached for Greg's balls, fondling them as he kept

up the nipple torture. Whenever they drew up, he tugged
them down, making Greg grunt for him.

"How are you feeling, boy?" Was Greg still

coherent?

Greg's lips opened, a soft sound slipping out.
He nodded, smiled. "Good answer, boy."
He patted the heavy, bound balls, careful not to hurt.
"You ready to get fucked? Ready for me to make you

mine again?"

"When... when wasn't I..."
He patted Greg's balls again. "Another good answer."
Greg looked at him, moaned softly. "Master." Oh,

yes.

"That's right." He got a hold of the base of the dildo

and tugged on it, twisting it as he pulled it out.

Greg arched, body twisting with him, gasping softly.
"Gonna fill you so good."

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"Please." Greg nodded, swallowed hard. "Everything

aches."

He pulled the chain up a little more and brought Greg

to the edge of the bed so he could fuck his boy's ass
without the spreader bar getting in the way.

He looked at his sub, at his pretty, needy boy. Jesus,

he would fucking do anything for this man. He moved
around to take a kiss before he took Greg's ass, tongue
pressing in. Greg cried out, sound pushing into his lips.
He swallowed that sound, fucking Greg's mouth with his
tongue. He let himself sink into it, focusing on nothing
but Greg's response. One kiss turned into two, which
turned into three.

Greg started to relax, to melt into the mattress. That

was his cue that it was time to take his boy's ass.

When he moved between Greg's thighs this time, he

got a warm, easy smile. He settled with his prick tight
against Greg's hole and slowly pushed his way in. The
moan he got in response was soft, happy. Real.

"Love you, boy." The words slipped from him as he

pushed into Greg's body.

"Master..." Greg's lips parted.
"Yes. Yes. Right here." He thrust, filling Greg up.
Greg nodded, swallowed, body rocking down onto

his cock. He didn't say anything else; he didn't have to.
He just kept rocking into Greg's body, kept looking his
lover in the eye. He loved how things slowed, how their
breaths joined, melded. He could feel every bit of his
cock as it slid in and out of Greg's body, that tight heat
squeezing him in all the best ways.

He pressed in all the way, all the way to his aching

balls. "Greg." He reached out, stroked Greg's bare face,
bare scalp.

"Master."
He nodded. He felt so in tune with Greg at this

moment. Like they were one. "Keeping you, boy.
Forever. Do you hear me? Forever."

"Don't say that."
"It's the truth. You can feel it in your bones, just as I

can."

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"Don't..." Greg moaned, head shaking. "Please.

Something will happen to you."

Ap shook his head. "You have to trust that I won't

leave you, boy." Ap couldn't promise he wouldn't die
first, but Greg had to believe it or Greg would never find
peace.

"Shh. Please. Master."
"You don't get to shush your master. I know what I'm

saying." He punched in hard, punctuating the words with
a thrust.

"I. Don't. Master." Greg's hands fisted in the cuffs.
He jerked a few more times, his hand wrapping

around Greg's prick. Greg's mind was arguing, but the
sweet body knew what he needed. He jacked Greg's
prick in time with his thrusts.

"Oh. Oh. Oh."

The soft sounds made Ap's mouth dry, so free, so

uninhibited. He kept moving, greedy for more of those
sounds. Greg squeezed him, body jerking, muscles
fluttering restlessly.

"You want to come, boy? You need me to let your

cock go?"

"I need you to... Whatever you think I need."
Oh, he was proud. So fucking proud. "Good boy." He

squeezed Greg's prick hard. Greg's ass gripped his cock.
"Yes. Yes, boy. Like that." He teased at the ring, but

didn't take it off yet.

"Master, please. So good."
"Yes. Now, boy." He flicked the ring off. "Come for

me now."

Greg tightened around him like a fist, body arching

furiously, trying to come.

"Together, boy!" He flicked the tip of Greg's cock,

hard, and his boy screamed, spunk spraying wildly.

His eyes closed as Greg's body clamped down tight

on his cock and he came hard, came with his boy. Ap
held onto Greg's legs, clinging as they swayed. He
kissed Greg's ankle, smiled at his boy. Greg looked at
him, eyes quiet.

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He kissed Greg's ankle again, then began to untruss

his boy, touching the entire time. He kissed the arch of
Greg's foot, his boy's ankle. He slowly lowered Greg's
legs, massaging gently. Greg started to shake, to shiver
in his hands. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped
around his boy.

"I have you."
"I. I. I." Greg's body shuddered.
"I have you." He tightened his hold on Greg.
He knew it was so hard for Greg to believe, to trust

that the universe wouldn't pull this rug out from under
Greg's feet, too. Ap would just have to keep showing
Greg that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere,
and that he was holding on until Greg believed it, too.

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Chapter Ten

Greg woke up feeling like his skin didn't fit. He

wrapped himself in his coveralls and headed outside. He
didn't want to be naked. He didn't want to think. He just
wanted to....

Run away. That's really what he wanted. To take

these good memories of Ap and just hide. He grabbed
his axe, headed for the rapidly dwindling woodpile.

"Where are you running away to, boy?" Ap was at his

desk in the living room, voice carrying across to the
back door.

"What? Nowhere. I'm going to work." Oh, God. Oh,

God.

"I think we're good on wood for a while." Ap stood,

stretched, the jeans and t-shirt the man wore doing

nothing to hide just how hot he was. "I have to make a
supply run. Why don't you come with me?"

"To town? Okay." He didn't want to. He didn't want

to see people, to deal with life.

"That's one spank later on. And it's about time you

saw it."

He nodded. "Do I wear this?" He didn't want to. He

wanted to scream a little, just out of sheer perversity.

"No, let's go see what you brought with you that

would be more appropriate." Ap held out a hand.

"Okay." He took Ap's hand, telling himself that all he

had to do was breathe. That having his things back, his
old life, wasn't bad.

"We should order you some new clothes from the

internet. I'd say we could do it while we're out, but it
really is a tiny town." Ap led him to a closet in the front
hall and pulled out his bag.

He nodded and stared at his life -- this sack of shit

that proved nothing. "I need to use the bathroom. There's
a pair of jeans in here."

He grabbed the bag and headed to the bathroom

without another word, locking the door behind him
before settling on the floor, staring at his bag without

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opening it. It smelled like Tim's cologne. He'd almost
forgotten. Almost.

A soft but somehow firm knock sounded. "Greg."
"I'll be out in a minute." He stared at the bag. He had

to get out of here. He'd... He'd let himself just be here.
For weeks.

"I don't think I'm willing to give you a minute."
He shook his head. He needed a minute.
"You think too much, boy, and I'm not going to let

you." Another thump hit the door, the sound more
insistent.

"I need a minute." His nails scraped over his cheek,

the sting centering him.

"I said no. Open the door now, boy."
"I need a minute!" He looked at the bag, opened the

zipper. All his life before was right there.

"You don't look back without me there, Greg. We're a

team now."

He shook his head hard. "Don't say that."
"It's the truth. Now open that door, boy, or I will."
"I need time. I need a minute. I need to breathe." He

scratched himself again.

The handle wriggled and then turned to the left twice

and the right once, and then it opened, Ap coming in.

"I said no. I need a minute!" He couldn't do this. He

couldn't think.

"To hurt yourself?" Ap grabbed his hand and tugged

it away from his face.

"Stop it!" He tugged away, sliding on the tile.
Ap grabbed his wrists again, squeezed them. "You

stop it."

"No. No. I said NO!" He let himself simply scream.

Ap held his wrists tight, not letting go. "You let me go!

You let me go right now! I need a motherfucking
minute!"

"No, that's exactly what you don't need." Ap looked

into his eyes, held his gaze.

"Leave me alone!" He tried to look away, but he

couldn't.

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"I'm not going to, love. I won't let you run away from

us."

"I have to. I have to. Just... just go away."
"Nope." Ap straightened and drew him up as well.
Greg fought, hard, booted feet slipping on the tile.

His temper raged, and it felt good -- so good -- to
scream and pull and war at Ap. Ap let him, moving him
inexorably out of the bathroom and toward the bright
playroom.

"NO! NO! Let me go, you fucker!"
Ap wouldn't let him go, wouldn't make him go. He

knew this.

"Not going to happen, Greg. You're mine now." Ap

stopped them right in front of the playroom, met his
eyes again. "And I'm yours."

"No. No, don't say that. Please." He couldn't stand it,

knowing he'd lose his Ap.

Ap frowned at him. "It's the truth, Greg. And it's what

we both want."

"No. No. I don't want you. I don't want to be yours. I

have to go." The lies tore at him, but he knew the
universe hated him, hated when he was happy.

"Bullshit." Ap growled and pulled him into the

playroom. "It seems you need to find your subspace
again."

"I'm LEAVING!"
"No, you most certainly are not." Ap closed the door

to the playroom behind him and began to remove the
stupid overalls.

"NO!" He threw back his head and bellowed with

everything he was.

Ap snorted and kept undressing him. Soon he was

naked, with Ap walking around him, examining him like

the man was deciding what to do first. He headed for the
door, for his bag.

Ap grabbed his arm. "You're not going anywhere,

boy. We're going to spend the day here. The supplies
can wait."

"No. You. We were going to go... I have to. Let go of

me, you son of a bitch!" He could breathe again.

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"You've got one hell of a spanking coming, speaking

to your master like that." Ap moved them toward the
chains that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the
room.

"I'm not staying here so that something awful

happens to you! I won't! Everyone I love gets hurt!"

Ap's face softened. "Nothing awful is going to

happen to me, Greg."

"It will. It will and I love you and... I have to get out

of here." He held onto Ap, heart slamming in his chest.

Ap smiled at him. "I love you, too. And we're going

to make this work." Ap took his right hand and closed
one of the cuffs around it.

"No. No, let me go." He tugged with one hand,

swung with the other, and it was all okay.

Ap slid a hand along his side. "You're hot when

you're angry."

"Fuck off. I'm fucking horrible. I'm BALD!" This

scream wasn't quite as loud as the others had been.

Ap shook his head. "You're beautiful." One warm

hand slid over his scalp. "I love the bald."

"You can't love me." He wouldn't allow it. He was

dangerous to love.

"I do."
His other hand was cuffed, then Ap began to tug the

chains up, pulling his wrists with them.

"No. No, you let me go. I'm going to leave." He

closed his eyes, refusing to be there in the scene.

"I'm not letting you go, boy."
"You have to, please. Please. Something bad will

happen if you love me."

"No, it won't. What happened to Tim wasn't because

he loved you and you loved him."

No. He shook his head, letting himself fight the cuffs.

He'd loved Tim, so much, and then he'd fallen in love

with Ap. The cuffs went up and up, even as he fought
them, Ap only stopping when he was all stretched out,
toes barely touching the floor.

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"You let me down..." His back creaked and popped as

he stretched, the release making him break out in a cold
sweat.

"When I'm good and ready."
"You fucking do it. Now. You listen to me!" Oh,

God. He couldn't breathe again.

Ap smacked his ass. "I'm not letting you go, no

matter how much you swear at me."

Greg let out a stream of the foulest curse words he

could find. Ap started swatting his ass with every new
word.

"Bastard!" He tried to jerk away, but he couldn't.
"It's Master, boy."
He shook his head, refusing to say it; he would not

say it and tempt the universe to tear Ap away from him.
Two more swats landed on his ass, his skin burning.

"No more." He didn't really mean that. He wanted

more.

"You'll have as many as I think you need." Ap

swatted him again. Then again. "And I think you need a
lot more."

"Fuck you..." He tried to find a good purchase on the

floor.

"No, I'm going to fuck you." Two more swats landed

on his ass.

"No. No more. I can't let you love me."
"That's not your choice, boy." The swats moved to

the tops of his thighs. "I do love you."

"NO!" He screamed the word out, arms pulling his

body off the floor.

"Yes." Two more swats hit the tops of his thighs.
He didn't have the strength to stay up, to fight.
"That's it, boy. Now just move into it."
He moaned, his arms letting him down.
"When you stop fighting it, it'll be good again."
"I'm scared." The words slipped out of him, shamed

him.

The spanking stopped, Ap coming around and

pressing their faces together. Ap looked right at him,

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right into him. "You're allowed to be scared, Greg. What
are you scared of?"

He tried to look away, close his eyes. No. No, he

couldn't do this.

Ap held his face tightly between those strong hands,

though, and there was nowhere to turn to, nowhere else
to look. "What are you scared of?"

"Stop it. Stop looking at me." He was going to

scream again. This was where Ap was supposed to give
up.

Ap wasn't giving up, though. The man just kept

staring at him like Ap was willing the words right out of
him.

"I don't want to lose you."
"I'm not going anywhere, boy. And neither are you."
"You don't understand. Everyone goes." Everyone he

cared about.

"I'm not everyone, and I'm not going anywhere.

Neither are you."

"I want to believe you." More than he wanted to

breathe.

"Then believe me."
"It's not that easy!"
"I never said it would be." Ap kissed his nose and

reached around to rub his burning ass. He swayed closer,
trying to get more sensation. "Sweet little pain slut." Ap

gently smacked his ass.

He groaned, head hanging as he breathed.
"You're allowed to freak out. You have to realize,

though, I'm not going to let you do it alone."

"You're supposed to. You're supposed to be done

with me."

"Because all the other masters have? I'm not them."
"I don't want you to leave me. I don't want to hurt

like that again, don't you understand?" He was so tired.

"I'm not going to leave you, Greg." Ap shook him a

little. "I'm here to stay. You're here to stay with me."

He shook back, fighting the chains, the cuffs,

struggling furiously. Ap let him wear himself out, let

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him go until he slumped in the bonds. Then his master
was there, supporting him, touching him, loving on him.

"Help me." He fought his tears, his aching body.
Ap gave him a hard kiss, hands warm on his skin.

Greg moaned, leaned into Ap's strength. Ap lifted him,
unhooked him from the chains. He was boneless, and he
had to trust in Ap to carry him, to support him. Ap did,
moving him to the bed in the room, the strong, warm
body wrapping around him.

"I have you." The words were sure, solid, full of

confidence.

"Have me." He let himself cry, silently so that Ap

wouldn't know.

"That's right. I have you." Ap held him tight, body

warm and solid and so strong. The blankets wrapped
around them, Ap keeping them skin-to-skin. "I'm not

going anywhere, Greg. Not anywhere."

He knew better. People left, they died, they fought

and got old and things changed. He knew that.

"I know Tim died and it feels personal, but just

because he died young doesn't mean I will. Are you
going to throw away the time we have worrying that it
won't be long enough?"

"I know it's not logical, but it's true."
"I'm not letting you go, so you're going to have to

start believing me at some point."

He didn't have the strength to argue. "Or what?"
"Or you're going to lose whatever good you can have

by being miserable when you should be happy."

Greg sighed. He always fucked up. Always.
"Don't worry, Greg. I'll keep beating you until you

believe it."

"I'm a fuck up." And he had a fucking headache.
"You've been hurt in the past. It makes you cautious."
"I loved him. I thought I was going to learn to be

something important."

"You are something important."
He shook his head. He was just him.
Ap growled, smacked his ass. "You are. You're my

boy. But more importantly -- you're you."

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"I'm replaceable." He wanted Ap to argue, to tell him

he was special.

"Bullshit."
The single word actually made him chuckle. That

was his Ap. No nonsense. Ap grunted at the sound and
nuzzled his neck, lips and tongue sending warmth
through him.

"I don't want to lose this. I'm fucking tired of being

scared and angry." He'd freaked out at the thought of
leaving, of seeing people again. It was ridiculous.

"You aren't going to lose this. I'm not running no

matter how scared, angry, or tired you are."

"You swear?"
"I swear it, Gregory." Ap nuzzled him. "In fact, I'd

like you to wear my collar."

Oh.

His heart stopped, and he waited for something

terrible to happen.

Ap nudged his head back and licked a line around his

neck. "It would go right here. A constant reminder that
you're mine."

He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, but he could nod.

Ap gave him a brilliant smile. He wrapped his arms
around Ap, held on tight. A low, happy hum sounded,
Ap holding him right back.

"Let me stay."
"That's what I want, Greg. For you to stay, to wear

my collar. You're mine."

"You'll tell Oliver, all of them?" He didn't want there

to be any question about where home was.

"Yes. I'll tell Oliver you said yes. I'll tell Marcus to

send the collar he's made for you."

Ap had had a collar made for him. "Did you tell him

what you wanted?"

"I did. I sent him detailed instructions some time

ago."

Greg moaned softly, unbearably pleased.
"You'll look stunning in it." Ap's fingers slid around

his throat.

"I'm sorry about earlier."

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"You know, I'm keeping you, freak outs and all."
"I don't think I'm ready yet. To open the bag."
"Then you don't have to. I will make you do it

eventually, though."

He didn't answer that. He didn't know what to say.
Ap seemed happy just to hold him.

***

Ap had left Greg sleeping in the playroom while he

did the grocery shopping. His boy would eventually
have to put on something other than the overalls he wore
to do his outdoor chores, but Ap was willing to move
slowly and work with Greg. His boy had taken a lot of
hits in the last few years.

He grabbed the grocery bags and headed in, the sky

dark.

The house wasn't dark, though. The lights were on,

the scent of food delicious, the house cleaned, the dogs
there to greet him, tails wagging happily. There was
music playing softly. It was home.

Smiling, he called out. "Hey, honey, I'm home."
"In the kitchen."
He could smell bread, stew, something cinnamon-y

and sweet.

"It smells amazing in here." He put the bags on the

counter, moving toward his boy.

"Just supper." Greg had his overalls on, and he

wanted skin, wanted his bare, bald boy.

"If you're cold you should turn the heat up, boy."
"There's homemade bread."
"I'm a very lucky man. I'd be even luckier if you lost

the overalls." Eventually, his boy would get the hint.

Greg chuckled. "I just didn't want to burn myself."

The overalls came off, Greg shivering.

He wrapped his arms around his boy and took a kiss.

Greg opened to him, the soft sound enough to make him
ache. He lingered on Greg's mouth. His boy relaxed into
his arms, the kiss going deep, but so slow. His hand

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drifted along Greg's spine, going down to his boy's ass.
It was still warm, still welted, and Greg shivered.

He gave a soft groan, nuzzled Greg's neck, and he

squeezed gently. A soft sound brushed his lips, Greg's
face going slack for a moment.

"Mmm. Now I'm home." He took another quick kiss

and then started to put away the groceries he'd bought.
"It really does smell amazing. And I'm starving."

"It's ready whenever you are." Greg's cock was half-

full, beautiful framed by the bare skin.

"Mmm." He slid his hand around to cup Greg's balls

for a moment and then feel up the bare skin and silky
cock. "I'm ready now."

"I..." That fat cock jerked, lifted for him, for his

touch. "Bread and stew?"

He chuckled. "Yes, that, too."

How lovely, to be able to play a bit, explore things

between them. Greg blushed lightly and pushed him
toward his chair. Sitting, he admired the naked body, the
way Greg moved. Greg made him a bowl of rich, thick
stew, brought him bread and butter and a glass of milk
before taking something from the oven and fixing his
own meal.

He dug in, moaning over the hot, yummy food. Greg

ate quietly, as usual, although Ap thought those eyes

landed on him often, and lingered.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, when his belly was

feeling fuller.

"I did. It was quiet. I put my bag away."
"We might have to take it out again tomorrow."

Maybe they'd do that every day, until it was just a bag
and not a symbol anymore.

"I don't like the way it smells."
"Then maybe what we need to do is bury it and get

you new things."

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't know how to not be

wigged."

"I'll tell you a secret, Greg. You're allowed to be

wigged."

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Greg met his eyes. "I feel like a traitor because I don't

miss him, and when I miss him, I feel like I'm betraying
you."

"I can't speak for him, but I can promise you that I

don't feel betrayed by you missing your old master. He
was taken from you. Of course you miss him."

Greg probably always would. Ap didn't see the point

of being jealous of a dead man. Not as long as Greg
didn't miss him more than he loved Ap.

"I." Greg stood, started doing dishes.
He watched, admiring that red ass. Reaching out, he

ran a finger down it. "What are you thinking?"

Greg shook his head. "Just thinking."
"Yes, but I want to know what about." His dear,

stubborn boy.

"I don't think he was my master. I think he wanted to

be. I know we loved each other, but..." Greg shrugged.
"I don't think he was my master."

"What makes you think that?"
Greg wouldn't look at him. "Because you are.

Because I've been with a lot of men who said they were
masters and they weren't."

"Thank you, boy."
"It's just the truth."
"It's still good to hear that you know I'm your master.

And that you can share that with me."

Greg nodded, then pushed into his arms, just for a

quick, hard hug, obviously seeking comfort. He held on,
not letting Greg go for a long moment. Then he pressed
a kiss on Greg's head.

"I made apple crisp."
"Sounds good. Smells even better. You can feed me."
"I did. I cooked for you."
"And now I want to eat by your hand."
"Okay..."
He swatted that tender ass.
"Sorry!"
"Come on. Dish up that dessert and feed me. I have

plans for after."

"O... sure. Right."

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He chuckled. "Nice save."
"I'm trying."
Greg fixed him a big bowl, put ice cream on top, and

plopped it on the table. He grabbed his boy around the
waist and tugged Greg down onto his lap. "It really does
smell great."

"Thank you..." Greg's ass was hot against him.
"Mmm." He nuzzled into Greg's neck, slid his hand

across his boy's ribs. "I want a spoonful with a tiny bit of
ice cream on top."

"Picky." Greg's abs jerked under his touch.
"I just know what I want." He met Greg's eyes; that

held true for more than just desserts.

Greg blushed for him, but fed him a perfect bite. He

closed his lips over the spoon, holding Greg's gaze as he
moaned happily.

"You like it?" Greg wiggled, and Ap could smell his

boy's arousal.

"Mmm. I do." He let his hand drop to Greg's thigh.

"Another bite, please."

"Sure." That muscled thigh jerked and leapt for him,

Greg's cock almost fully hard now.

He licked his lips and opened his mouth for Greg, his

fingertips dancing over Greg's leg. Greg shivered,
almost stood. He squeezed Greg's thigh, the backs of his
fingers brushing Greg's balls. He loved how warm they
were, how vulnerable. He brushed them again, this time
on purpose, then traced his way up Greg's prick.

"Oh." Greg's lips parted.
"Give me just one more bite of the dessert you

worked so hard on, and then we can go have fun with
this."

Greg nodded, fed him another bite of the sweet, the

apples tart on his tongue.

"Mmm." He swallowed and brought his mouth to

Greg's, licking those sweet lips. Greg hummed, leaned
in so the kiss could deepen.

He wrapped his hand around Greg's prick, the other

one caressed one cheek. Hard and hot, that sweet cock
fit perfectly in his palm. He rubbed his thumb back and

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forth across the tip. Soft sounds filled his lips, and he
enjoyed each and every one. He tilted Greg's head,
taking the kiss deeper still. His thumb traced the place
where Greg's eyebrow would be, and he smiled when
Greg shivered.

"My stunning boy."
"I. Can we... I need you."
"Of course we can. Let's go get more comfortable."

He stood, letting Greg's ass slide on his legs as he did.

Need was a much better look on Greg than sorrow.

He put his bowl in the sink so the dogs couldn't table
surf for it, grabbed hold of Greg's ass, and headed
toward their bedroom. The bed was made; Greg had
been busy.

"You really did miss me," he teased gently, tugging

Greg across the room.

"I just wanted to be busy."
He grinned, set Greg down on the mattress. "Idle

hands and the devil, eh?"

"Yes. Exactly."
"We'd better make sure our hands aren't idle, then."

He slid his hands over Greg's scalp. He could feel the
hint of stubble. Tomorrow he'd have to decide whether
to shave his boy again or let the hair grow back.

Greg moaned for him, tongue flicking out to lick his

lips. Leaning in, he touched his tongue to Greg's. Those

eyes met his, their gazes holding as Greg leaned in,
kissing him. The soft tongue explored his mouth like it
was their first time. He went with it, his tongue sliding
against Greg's. Warm hands framed his face, fingers
tracing his cheeks. He nuzzled into the touches, enjoying
the attention. Greg's moan vibrated his lips, the sound
incredibly aroused.

"You taste better than any dessert."
"I make very good desserts."
"You do. You taste better than all of them." He

brought their mouths back together again.

He could get used to Greg moaning like that, opening

to him. He lowered his whole weight onto Greg, letting

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his boy feel all of him. Greg spread, arms wrapping
around him.

Suddenly curious, he had to ask. "Are you ready for

me?"

Greg's cheeks went hot. "Huh?"
Oh, his lover was ready, had prepared himself. "You

heard my question."

"I." Greg looked at him. "I needed. When you were

gone. I needed to feel something good."

"Mmm. Spread your legs for me."
How interesting. He didn't think he'd ever once seen

Greg admit to having sexual needs, to dealing with
them, or admit to breaking a rule. Greg spread for him.

He stood up and slowly pulled his clothes off, his

prick pushing out from his body. Greg watched him,
eyes dragging on his body like he was the most beautiful

thing ever. It made him stand a little straighter, made
him smile.

Greg's cock firmed again, curled over his belly.
"Mmm. So pretty." All bare and stark, unhidden. His.

Groaning, he moved onto the bed.

"You look hungry..."
"I am. Starving." He slid between Greg's legs.
"Just fed you." Greg was warm, solid under him.
"Not hungry for food."
Warm hands slid up his arms. "Good."
He chuckled, lowered his face to take another kiss.

He kept it light, easy, making Greg lean for it.

"Touch me," he ordered.
Greg nodded, hands hard, callused, sure on his body.

He moaned at the touches, at Greg's explorations. Every
inch of his chest and arms was touched before they

moved to his back. His prick leaked copiously, his balls
beginning to ache with need.

"Thorough boy," he murmured, nuzzling Greg's neck,

licked where his collar would go.

"I want to make you feel good."
"You do, Greg. Very."
Greg pinked, wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

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"What?" he demanded, wanting to know what that

was about.

"What what?"
He chuckled. "What's with the blush? The not

meeting my eyes?"

"I just... I don't know how to do it -- be a lover and a

sub."

"No? I think you're doing a fabulous job so far."
"I'm trying. I seem to do that a lot -- try." What Greg

didn't know was that was the secret.

"That's all any of us can do, Greg."
"Yeah. I guess."
"I'm not guessing, though, I'm telling you that's all I

expect of you."

Greg's eyes met his, a touch surprised. "I expect more

of me, I think."

"How can you do more than try?"
"I can do it."
Ap chuckled. "Yes, but you only get there by trying."
"Shit, you confuse me. I'm just... I'm trying to say

that it's different, special."

"That's a good thing. I think you and what we have

together is special, too."

"O...good. I'm nervous."
"Because you're starting to believe in it?" Ap

imagined that was very scary for Greg.

"Because things are beginning to change."
"For the better." Things like that were important, that

one recognized good change as well as when things
went wrong.

"God, yes." Greg gave him this stunning, amazed

smile that Ap felt in his bones.

He smiled back and then took a kiss. It was hard and

hungry, just like him. Greg groaned, their tongues
touching, sliding together as he fucked those sweet lips.

When their lips parted, he grinned. "I want you to

ride me. I want to see you over me, taking me in."

"Okay."
He rolled over onto his back, his prick standing up

eagerly, waiting for his boy.

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Greg climbed over him, and once Greg was settled,

Ap caught his gaze. "That's one spanking for the okay,
by the way."

He smiled at Greg's look. "I notice everything you do

and every word you say."

Greg's lips opened, the heavy cock throbbing,

bobbing for him. He reached out, one hand going up to
press his fingers into Greg's mouth, the other wrapping
around that pretty cock. Greg cried out, lips surrounding
his fingers, the suction strong, sure. He arched, his prick
jerking inside Greg's body. Greg squeezed him, body
working in time with that hungry mouth.

"Fuck." He jacked Greg's prick with the same

rhythm, closing the circle.

Greg humped, rocked up, pulling at his finger,

pulling at his cock.

"Such a sexy boy." He began to move with Greg,

pushing up into the wonderful, tight heat of Greg's ass.

Greg whimpered, eyelids heavy as he rode.
"So tight, so hot." He moaned, pushed up a little

harder.

"Full." Greg nodded, kept moving on him, that tight

hole gripping his prick.

"Yes." He met Greg's body every time it came down

on him, their movements absolutely perfect.

"Yes." Greg almost smiled, body working him, that

fat cock swelling in his hand.

He pressed his thumb against Greg's slit, pushing

hard.

"Oh." That shocked look made his balls ache.
He pressed into it again, watching Greg's face. The

full lips went slack, eyes rolling.

"You can come, boy. Come on my cock while I work

your slit."

"Master..." The single word echoed between them.
"Yes!" He pushed up hard, slamming into Greg's

body

Greg grabbed his arms, rocking, head thrown back.

He slammed in again, his thumb playing hard at Greg's

slit. Spunk sprayed over his chest, his fingers.

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Humming, he rubbed it into his skin, watching Greg's
face as he did.

"Want to be yours forever. Okay?"
"Yes. I'm not even going to spank you for that one."
Greg laughed, softly at first, then almost hysterically.

He brought Greg down, kissed his boy hard, swallowing
the sounds as he humped up, searching for his own
release.

"Yes. Yes, Master." Greg groaned the words, driving

down on him. "Fill me up."

"Fuck!" He pushed up hard, spilling into his boy.
Greg sat back on his thighs. He gasped, panted for

breath, his hands sliding on Greg's legs. Greg groaned,
spread a little for him, offering him more. He slid his
hands along the inside of Greg's thighs, fingers tickling
his lover's balls. Greg chuckled, bucked up, Ap's cock

sliding free. He pouted and reached for Greg's balls,
fondling them properly.

"That feels good." Greg rested down against him.
"I love the way they feel, all heavy and loose in their

sac."

Listen to that low, happy groan.
He slid his hands around to Greg's ass. "And this. All

hot from my hand..." Hot and tight, well-fucked and his.

He brought their mouths together, taking a lazy kiss.
He hadn't gotten Greg out of the house today, but

they'd taken some steps together. Besides, they had all
the time they needed.

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Chapter Eleven

"It is too cold to be naked." He looked at Ap, more

than willing to be stubborn. "And the coveralls are
stinky."

"So put the coveralls in the wash, and I'll turn the

heat up."

"It's snowing!"
Ap was being unreasonable.
"Not in the house it isn't." Ap turned and looked at

him. "Unless you'd like to get dressed and come to town
with me for some supplies?"

"Can I have socks?" He wanted to... do something.
"Why?"
"My feet are cold. I like socks."
"I can warm your feet for you." Ap did something on

his keyboard and stood, an eager, wicked smile on his
face.

"What? No. No, please. I'll shut up. I have shit to do."

He'd had his feet caned. It sucked. It hurt for days.

He headed out of the office and toward the kitchen.

He'd get the coveralls on and fetch wood. Ap caught up
to him when he got to the kitchen.

"Why are you running away?"
"I'll get wood."
One of Ap's eyebrows went up. "Yes, I imagine you

will with what I have in mind."

"What?" He blinked, then almost laughed. Almost. "I

meant the logs. Outside. For the stove."

Ap's lips twitched, then he chuckled, winked, and

held out his hand. "Come on, let's go start a fire."

He found himself reaching, fingers sliding into Ap's.

That strong hand was warm. Safe. Sure.

Ap led him to the living room. "I really did mean a

fire. Both kinds, but we'll start with some of those logs
you've cut."

He nodded, headed for the wood box and started the

process of stacking. Together, they built the fire in the
fireplace, and then Ap handed him the matches. He got

the kindling lit, leaned back to watch. Ap's hand slid

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over his shoulder, the touch firm, warm. Greg let
himself lean back into the touch, let himself breathe.

Ap kissed the top of his head. "You're going to need

another shave soon."

They'd shaved him twice already, Ap keeping him

bare, naked. It was unnerving, never letting him forget
who he belonged to.

"Come sit on the couch. Time to warm your feet."
He winced, shoulders tensing.
"Why are you being so resistant?" Ap rubbed his

shoulders. "Go lie on the couch."

"I had my feet whipped, well, caned. It was awful. It

wasn't sexual, and all I learned was that it burned so
bad."

"Whipped? Who said anything about whipping your

feet?"

He stopped, looked at Ap. "That's not what you

meant?"

"No, it isn't. I said warm not whip. Lie down and I'll

show you what I had in mind."

He nodded, headed for the couch. He'd have gone no

matter what, but now it was easier. Ap sat near his feet,
picked one up and began to massage it.

"Oh..." His leg cramped up, the pleasure was so

sudden, so right.

Ap kept working his foot, thumbs digging into the

sole. His eyes crossed, and this incredibly weird noise
escaped him.

"That good, hmm?" Ap kissed his heel and kept

working.

"Yes. Oh, God. Sir..." He could cry with it -- the

release, the pleasure, the care.

Ap hummed for him, the sound happy .The massage

continued, his foot feeling like it was melting under Ap's
ministrations. His eyes closed, his tension dissolving.

After a time, his foot was put down, the other picked

up. He groaned, thigh muscle jerking.

"Easy," murmured Ap, hands so warm on his foot.
"Yes, Master." He was, easy in his soul.

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Another kiss dropped on his foot and then the

massage continued, each of his toes rubbed, relaxed. The
simple, easy care made him dizzy, stupid.

"Look at you. Such a beautiful, stunning boy."
He didn't have an answer, barring a soft moan. His

entire body was warm, relaxed.

Ap began to move the massage up along his calves,

dropping kisses over his feet. He'd never felt so loved.
Never.

It shook him to the core.
The massaging and kisses continued, Ap slowly

moving up his legs, giving them both equal attention. He
hummed softly, his heart feeling like it was beating in
time with silent music. Ap skirted his prick, soft kisses
pressing against his belly. That touch made him chuckle,
the sound shaking him. He felt Ap's smile against his

skin.

"Sorry." He wasn't, though, not really.
"What on earth for?"
"Laughing?"
"What's wrong with laughing?" Ap kissed his belly

again.

"Nothing, I guess." Although everyone always

seemed so serious all the time.

"Laughing is a good thing. You know they say it's the

best medicine."

He reached down, hands stroking through Ap's hair.

"I know. I always thought it was odd, how stern
everyone is."

Ap nuzzled into his touch. "Am I usually stern?"
"Mmm. You smile more now."
Like he'd conjured it up, Ap smiled for him. "You

make me happy."

"Good." The word was unexpectedly fierce, but he

meant it.

Ap nodded. "It is." Then the massaging continued,

Ap working his arms now.

Greg thought the foot massage was amazing, but it

was nothing compared to when Ap started on his hand.
Ap smiled at him, kissed his palm, and then continued.

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"Ap." He smiled back, feeling stupid.
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
"God, yes." It felt like heaven.
"Not just the massage, either." Ap's gaze met his, the

look in Ap's eyes warm, wrapping him in comfort.

"No. Not just the massage."
Ap sat and pulled him close, held him. The fire

crackled and burned, danced for them as they sat
together, warm and cozy.

"Is Christmas coming?" Without a computer, a

phone, a TV, his life was untethered to anything but Ap.

"Still seven weeks away. The truck will come at the

end of next week to pick up our Christmas trees. I guess
we should go out tomorrow and mark the ones for
cutting down. I can show you how to pick them."

He nodded. "Just tell me how to help. I can."

"Yeah, I'll teach you all about it. In the spring it'll be

planting."

He leaned hard, listening to Ap's voice, talking about

trees and time and land. It felt so right, somehow, just
this being together. He wrapped one hand around Ap's
hip, the low voice in one ear, deep, steady heartbeat in
the other.

"How are your feet?" Ap asked softly.
"Perfect." He kissed Ap's chest. "Thank you."
Ap squeezed him. "You're welcome."
He sighed, nodded, stayed right there.

***

They'd spent the whole week working their asses off.

They'd marked, cut and loaded trees. It had been a pretty
good crop this year, though, and their funds were nicely
topped up. Normally, this would have been followed by
a trip to the 'big' city to stock up. Probably even
Toronto. Ap didn't know if that was going to happen this

year, though.

"So, are you going to come with me for supplies this

time?" he asked Greg, going for casual.

"I can try. I didn't expect to freak out last time."

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"I know. If you can make it, we can go out to dinner."

Ap gave Greg a wink. "Incentive -- someone's cooking
other than our own."

"Oh... Yeah?" Greg actually smiled. "Is there a book

store?"

"There is if you're coming with me." He grinned at

Greg's look. "If it's just me going, I'll do the small town.
If we're both going, we're hitting the bigger small town,
and it has a book store." Greg wasn't ready for Toronto
yet. Maybe next year. God, it felt good to say that, to be
able to plan for that far ahead and be confident his lover
would be here.

"I'd like to get a couple of novels, please."
"I think we can swing that." He rubbed his hand over

Greg's shoulders. "Shall we try on your clothes?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah." Not 'okay.' Good boy.

He took Greg's hand and led his lover to the

bedroom; he'd put the offending bag in his closet. Ap
had new clothes, soft and warm, comfortable, classy. He
loved being able to shop online, even if shipping was a
bitch. He'd bought some for Greg, too, thinking it might
be easier to have new stuff than try to put on the old.
"I've got some new jeans and a shirt for you if you
wanted..."

Greg nodded. "Sounds good. I... Do you think people

will stare at me?"

"Yes -- you're too stunning not to notice."
Greg blushed, looked at the jeans Ap passed him.

"Underwear?"

"You don't want to go commando for me?"
He got a soft laugh, a shrug. "I can."
Ap grinned. "Good. I'll go commando, too. Then

when we get home we can rip our clothes off easier."

That earned him another laugh, this one heartier. He

grinned, patting Greg's ass as he went to the drawers and
found the new clothes he'd bought himself. By the time
he was dressed, Greg had the jeans on.

"I did pretty good on the size, didn't I?" The jeans fit

Greg's ass like they were made for him.

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"They fit. I used to buy them a little bigger, but..."

But Greg was hot in them, a stud.

"But you've been working your ass off." He winked

and then nodded. "You look amazing."

Greg's cheeks went red hot, but he thought his boy

puffed up a little bit.

"Let's see the shirt on you." He passed it over, took a

moment to stroke Greg's abs. Those little muscles jerked
and tightened, danced for him. "Mmm. I do love the way
you respond to me, Greg."

Greg smiled, kissed his cheek, and moaned. He

turned his head and took Greg's mouth, letting his
tongue press between Greg's lips. If Greg wasn't careful,
they'd end up naked again.

He let their lips part slowly. "Sexy boy."
"Thank you." Oh, good boy, accepting a compliment.

They'd come so far.

"We should finish getting dressed and go."
"Uh-huh." Greg's eyes were on him, warm, happy.
He pressed in for another kiss, stroked that sweet

belly a time or two more. He got Greg dressed, his bald,
bare boy looking unusual with clothes on.

"Can I have a hat?"
He had to think about that. He loved how Greg

looked with his bald head, but it was getting pretty cold
out. In the end, he nodded. "I've got a bunch of winter
gear in the closet by the front door."

"Thank you. It's very... not protected up there."
Chuckling, he slid his hand over the freshly shaved

scalp. "It feels wonderful." And it made his boy so

beautiful, ethereal. Pure sex. "But yes, you can wear a
hat outside." He switched his own t-shirt for a clean
shirt. "There's this restaurant with the best steak."

"I like steak."
He knew.
"It'll be a treat for us for a week of work well done."

He led the way out, making sure the dogs had food and
fresh water before they headed out.

Greg stayed closed, but relaxed, easy in his skin.

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They climbed into the truck, and he patted the seat

right next to him, wanting Greg there instead of next to
the window.

Greg looked at him, eyebrow arching. "Are you

inviting me to snuggle during our drive?"

He grinned. "Caught." How wonderful, to flirt, to

laugh and romance this fascinating man.

Ap slid his hand along Greg's thigh to his knee,

squeezed. Greg hummed softly, leaned into him.

"You can put on the radio if you want."
Greg found something simple and quiet on the radio,

turned it up.

It felt good, driving along with his boy at his side,

going to indulge a little in something special for the two
of them. It felt even better that Greg was relaxed,
focused on him, strong enough to leave, but still there.

They didn't say much on the drive into town, but it

wasn't an awkward silence at all.

"We'll do the supplies first -- that way we can hit the

bookstore and the restaurant as treats."

"O..." Greg glanced at him. "You do that on

purpose."

"Do what?"
"Say things that make me need to say the okay

word."

He chuckled. "I don't do it on purpose."
"Uh-huh." He looked, and Greg was hiding a smile,

eyes dancing. Teasing him.

"Of course you could always say 'okay' on purpose."

He could tease right back.

Greg's lips twisted. "Like I would ever do that."
Ap's own lips twitched. "I imagine there are times

when you will." Hell, he was pretty sure Greg already
did, every now and then.

"No way." Greg's chest was shaking with laughter.
"That ass of yours spends a couple weeks without

being spanked and you're sure to start okay-ing me left

right and center."

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He could smell Greg's sudden arousal. He squeezed

Greg's knee and then took the turn off into town,
heading for the grocery store.

"I'd like some apples for pie."
"Yeah? We can do that. We're going to need more ice

cream, too, then."

Greg looked at him. "That's okay with me."
He chuckled. "You keep track of how many of those

you throw out and we'll have something to look forward
to when we get home."

"Yes, sir." Greg gave him a warm smile, and he

parked the truck. They might just make it through their
day.

***

Greg was exhausted. Utterly. Totally. They'd shopped

at every single store in this town, storing up for
Christmas and winter and it was a little insane. A little
scary. A little comforting. They'd spent an hour in the
bookstore, Ap indulging him in every book he was even
partly interested in. Now they were at the restaurant,
cozy and warm in a booth at the back.

There was a beer in front of him, the promise of steak

and potatoes to come. It was luscious.

Ap sat across from him, leaning back against the

booth, looking about as tired as he felt. "Thank god we
only have to do that a few times a year."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was fun, but... I'm tired."
He got a nod in response. "I'm used to it being just

the two of us. All these people."

"Thank you for the books."
"You're welcome. I may have to borrow a few when

you've read them."

"Of course." He drank his beer, throat working. It had

been a while.

Ap sipped his more slowly, before asking, "Do you

have anyone you want to get Christmas presents for? We
can shop online."

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"I'd like to get Oliver and Jack something, please, and

Marcus. They were good to me." He sighed softly. "I
have some money, not a whole lot. I... I don't know how
that's going to work with us."

"You worked hard this past week. You'll be paid for

that."

"Oh. Okay, okay, yeah. I just... Thank you?" How

weird was that?

"Mmm. Two more okays -- have you been keeping

track?"

"I.... Yes. Yes, sir." They were on number six.
"Excellent." Ap smiled and then relaxed back again.

"And what would you like for Christmas?"

"A new pillow." He met Ap's eyes. "What do you

want?"

"A new pillow? Don't you like our pillows?"

"I do, but I'd like one for under my back at night." He

was getting more and more sore in the morning. It was
probably the cold. Ap kept the place pretty warm for
him, but in the mornings their room was most definitely
not.

"Ah. Then you should have one. Isn't there anything

indulgent that you'd like?"

He chewed his bottom lip. "I. I would like a better

mixer. For our breads." He liked doing them from

scratch instead of in the bread maker. Was that a pussy
gift?

Ap beamed at him. "I'll make sure Santa knows."
He grinned back. "So? What do you want?"
"Hmm..." Ap pursed his lips. "I'm not sure -- I kind of

feel like I got my present early this year."

"I was work, not a gift."
Ap shook his head. "You've been a challenge and a

pleasure. And now you're mine."

"I am." And he wasn't going anywhere. He was

home.

"Then what I'd like is a new razor. Top of the line."
His cock went suddenly, fully hard, so fast he got a

little dizzy, holding onto the edge of the table.

"Greg?"

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"Hmm?" His cheeks flushed dark red.
"You all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
"Mmm, you are." Ap waggled his eyebrows just as

their waitress came with their salads.

He chuckled, focused on his salad as his ears burned.

The salad was good, the steak and potato that followed
really good. The way Ap kept looking at him as they ate
was even better.

He finished his beer, humming over his steak, his

cock full and aching.

Ap's hand slid over his knee under the table. "You

want dessert?"

His thighs parted. No. No, that wasn't what he wanted

at all. "Do you?"

"I'd rather get something at home." Ap's gaze held

his, intense, hot.

"Me, too. Please." His balls hurt.
"Maybe we'll stop along the way." Ap gave him a

wink and motioned for their check.

The bill was dealt with quickly, and they headed out,

Ap whistling under his breath.

When they got to the truck, parked at the far end of

the little lot, Ap looked around and then pushed him up
against the door, mouth taking his. Greg stiffened, then
melted because this was what he needed and his master
would have his back. Ap's hand rubbed against his
crotch as the kiss went on and on.

"Master." He spread, humping toward that touch.
"I have you." Ap's hand pushed into his jeans, cold

against his heated flesh.

"Yes." He nodded, thighs hard as rocks. He needed.

Now. Hard. Fast.

Ap stroked him, giving him exactly what he needed,

each kiss building on the last. His cock was leaking,
dripping, and he couldn't fight his moans.

"I want to smell you on my hand all the way home."
"Master..." He arched, going up on tip toe.
"Right here, Greg. Come for me."

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He whimpered softly and shot, his entire body

shaking with pleasure.

"Mmm. Yes. That's my boy." Ap kept stroking,

working him through the orgasm.

"Master. So good. Thank you. Thank you." He clung

to Ap's shoulders.

Ap tucked him back into his jeans and zipped him up,

then one arm went around him, keeping him close.
"Love you, Greg."

That made him smile. "Love."
Ap kissed him quickly, then stepped back, rubbing

his hands together. "Okay. Now I can handle the drive
home."

He blinked, just a little stupid. Ap chuckled, gave

him another quick kiss, and then manhandled him up
into the truck. He cuddled in, the feeling of well-being

and peace just a bit overwhelming.

But good, so good.

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Chapter Twelve

Ap pulled up in front of the house and smiled at

Oliver. "We're here."

He'd driven to Toronto to pick up Oliver and Jack;

he'd left Greg at home, telling Greg only that he was
going to pick up some packages and stuff and that he'd
be back by five. He'd left instructions to clean and have
supper ready. The roads hadn't been great, but it was
only ten past five, so he was happy with the time they'd
made.

"Excellent. It's a lovely place."
Jack nodded. "It's beautiful!"
"Thank you. It's home. We keep it fairly warm inside

-- Greg is naked whenever indoors." And would stay
that way, aside from the collar, which Oliver had

brought with him.

"Good to know." Oliver smiled at him. "I can't wait

to see him."

"When I left, I just told him that I was picking some

packages up at the airport. I knew he'd spend the whole
day stressing if I told him it was you."

Oliver nodded and chuckled. "You're in for a lovely

night, then."

He nodded. He knew. But if he'd told Greg in

advance, it would have been days of stressing and
freaking out before Oliver and Jack had even arrived. "I
actually think what you bring with you is going to be
harder for him to deal with than having the two of you
sprung on him." The truck bed was full of the things
Greg had left behind, and Tim's estate had finally been
settled.

"It's all... a reminder."
"Yeah. He doesn't like to remember." And then Greg

got upset because he didn't always remember, always
mourn. They were getting there, though. In fact, Ap

thought they were doing pretty damn good.

Ap got out and came around to open the door for

Oliver.

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Greg's face appeared at the window, then the front

door cracked open, Greg's head appearing along with
those of the dogs. "Ap?"

"Coming. You should see who I picked up at the

airport."

"I. Let me get some pants."
"No, it's Oliver and Jack, they're used to naked boys."

He went in, kissed the top of Greg's freshly shaved head.

"Oliver? Master Oliver? Here?" Greg couldn't decide

whether to push close or pull away. It was adorable.

"He is. With Jack." He slid his hand along Greg's

spine, cupped one asscheek.

"I need my pants."
"No, boy, you're good as you are." He brought Greg

farther into the hall, opening the door wider to welcome
in Oliver and Jack.

Greg stayed next to him, flaccid and shivering.
Oliver smiled at Greg, held out a hand. "My boy, so

glad to see you."

"I'm Ap's now." Greg made Ap proud, staying despite

his nerves, telling Oliver who he belonged to.

"Yes. My boy."
"Hey, Greg! Gosh, it's cold here? You must always

be freezing. Especially with the new look -- wow! Now,
tell me there's coffee!"

Ap chuckled. There was no way anyone could shrink

away with Jack around.

"Which bags do you want brought in, Oliver?"
"The two suitcases are ours. The four big boxes

belong to Greg."

"To me?" There was panic, lurking around the edges

there.

"Oliver brought your inheritance with him."
Greg shook his head. "All the stuff from your

garage?"

Oliver nodded. "The things you couldn't part with. I

thought you should have them."

"We can go through it tomorrow if you'd like," Ap

suggested.

Greg shook his head. "I. We can just put it away."

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"We'll talk about it tomorrow." The boxes could join

the backpack, he supposed. They would eventually have
to be dealt with, though. "Did you make supper?"

"Stew. Something that would keep."
"Excellent. And I can smell the bread. Why don't you

show Oliver and Jack to the kitchen while I bring in
their bags?"

"Okay. Yeah, okay. Come on in..." Goodness, his boy

was unnerved.

He smacked Greg's ass lightly, twice and went to get

the bags. He didn't dawdle, figuring that Greg could use
his presence. By the time he got in, Jack and Oliver were
at the kitchen table with soup and coffee, with another
place set for him. Greg, of course, was nowhere to be
found.

"How long was it before he disappeared?"

"Seven seconds. Maybe ten."
Jack chuckled. "He pours soup like a pro. A very bald

pro."

"He's shaved everywhere." Ap was proud of that, of

the thing that had made Greg all his.

"I noticed," murmured Jack, eyes twinkling.
"Are you all right on your own for a while?"
"Of course. In fact, if there's a place for us, I wouldn't

complain about crashing early, enjoying the winter with
my boy."

"Let me show you to your room, bring your bags up

for you. If you could just leave the dishes on the counter
instead of the table -- the dogs won't counter-surf, but

the table is fair game."

"Jack can wash them when we're done, and I'm more

than capable of helping with the bags." Oliver stood.
"Lead the way."

He headed to grab the bags and they were gone. Ah,

Greg.

He shook his head. "You're at the top of the stairs, the

first door on the right. I'm guessing your bags are
already up there."

He pointed to the playroom on the other side of the

stairs. "Greg and I will be there if you need us."

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"Excellent." Oliver smiled at him. "You look so

happy, friend."

"I am. When you asked me to do you a favor, I never

expected to find my boy, my partner."

"The universe is basically good to us, hmm?" Oliver

looked very pleased. "We'll see you in the morning."

"Yes. Greg will be more able to deal with visitors

then, I hope." He suspected Greg's inheritance was
going to be another matter altogether, but one hurdle at a
time.

He gave Oliver a smile and headed for the playroom;

Greg would likely be there or up in their room. He'd
guessed right. Greg was sitting in the playroom, staring
out the window.

Good boy.
"I'm sorry I sprang them on you, but I didn't want you

spending the day, or longer, fretting about the visit."

"I'm not angry."
"Good. I didn't think you would be."
Greg nodded. "I freaked out a little bit."
"I thought you might." He went over to Greg and slid

his hands along Greg's shoulders. Greg was tense, stiff
as a board. "Talk to me, Greg."

"I just... It was odd. To have guests. People from

before."

"I know. They're people who care about you,

though."

"They do. Master Oliver led me here." Greg actually

smiled.

"Yes. We have a lot to thank him for." He kneaded

Greg's shoulders.

"Did you have a good day?"
"It was a lot of driving, but it was for a good cause."
"For my stuff?" Greg looked confused.
"To bring our friends here to see us."
Greg nodded, muscles jerking and jumping.
"Someone needs to find his focus." Greg needed his

subspace now, needed to fly.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying not to be a psycho."

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"Shh. Your reactions are your reactions, they're

honest and you." Ap took Greg's mouth, kept him from
apologizing again.

It took longer than he'd have liked, but Greg started

kissing him back, humming into his lips. He deepened
the kiss then, hands beginning to roam. Greg moaned,
and they began to rock together, like an odd little dance.

"Too many clothes," he murmured. And he didn't

mean his naked boy.

"You want me?" Greg started opening his shirt.
"Of course I want you. I always want you."
"How?"
"How? Any way I can get you."
That made Greg laugh, and Ap nodded. That was

better. He cupped Greg's face and took another kiss.
Greg opened to him, then went stiff as Oliver and Jack

closed the door upstairs.

"Shh. I have you and this is our place."
"It's so odd... Did you eat?"
"Nope. My lover wasn't there." He kissed Greg again

and then nodded, decision made. Greg needed to be in
chains, needed to be whipped -- Greg had to find that
subspace to give him strength, focus to deal with Oliver
and his inheritance in the morning.

"I couldn't. I was too tense."
"We're going to fix that. Make it so you're all melted

and easy." He shrugged out of his open shirt and drew
Greg up.

His boy came to him, trusting him.
He nuzzled Greg's cheek. "Reach up for the chains."
Greg nodded, reached, for him. He kissed Greg,

moving them slowly to where the chains were. Greg's
hands followed his arms, lifted for him. He slid the cuffs
around Greg's wrists, adjusted the chains so Greg was
stretched out.

Greg swayed, muscles tight and shifting. "Master."
"Right here." He loved it when Greg trusted him,

gave himself over.

"I... I don't know what to do, all of a sudden. I don't

want to make noise."

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"Oh, no. I want to hear each and every sound that you

make, that I pull from you."

Greg looked at him, eyes wide. "They'll hear."
"They've been traveling all day -- they're asleep.

Besides, have you heard Jack during scenes?" Ap never
had himself, but he'd heard the stories, and he'd bet that
Greg had heard them at least once.

"God, yes. He screams. Literally." Greg rolled his

eyes. "Honestly, it can be unnerving."

"Well, then, you won't be that loud, so don't worry."
Greg actually chuckled, and Ap held that sound in.

Greg was home. He kissed Greg again, began to run his
hands over Greg's skin, fingers curling to scratch lightly.
He loved how Greg's skin flushed, goosepimpled.

"So sensitive." He pressed kisses to Greg's

collarbones, to Greg's nipples. He bit one nipple, hard

enough that Greg's arms tensed, lifting his boy off the
floor for a second. "I know what you need." Ap knew
that Greg needed the pain today, to take him out of
himself, to let the worry go. He pinched the other nipple.

"Yes." Greg twisted, pulled away from him.
He hummed, giving Greg's nipple another pinch,

slapping one hip with his hand. Tomorrow the evidence
of their need would be on every inch of Greg's skin.
Forget hearing him, Oliver and Jack would see what
they'd been up to.

He moved around Greg, continuing to lay random

smacks on the beautiful skin. His boy's ass was only
lightly pink, but it had been a few days. He'd shaved

Greg yesterday, though. Every inch, even his boy's hole.

He went and grabbed a crop with a small leather oval

at the end. Greg had his eyes closed, body swaying in
the chains. Fuck, but his boy was gorgeous.

He hummed, letting Greg know he was coming back.

Greg's glutes went tight, rolled.

His boy knew what was coming. "I picked the crop."
"Oh." Greg's eyelids fluttered. "That'll leave marks."
"It will. Reminders of who you belong to, of your

focus, your subspace."

Greg nodded. "I'll try and find it."

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"Trust me, we'll find it." This wasn't all on Greg -- he

was there to help, to get Greg there.

"I do. I trust you."
"I know." It was a powerful thing, that trust.
"I'm beginning." He swatted Greg's right ass cheek

with the crop.

Greg barely moved, simply took a deep breath.
"Don't forget -- I want to hear your reactions, so don't

hide your sounds from me." He began to flick the crop
over Greg's skin, never letting it touch the same place
twice.

Greg nodded, but he didn't make a single sound. He

would. Eventually.

Ap kept working Greg's skin, slowly increasing the

strength of his hits. Marks were beginning to show on
Greg's fine, hairless skin. Greg tried to step forward, pull

away.

"There's nowhere to go but inside." Greg needed to

let go, to give over to the pain and the sounds that
wanted out.

"I. I just... Master..." Greg's entire body was tense.
"You have to let go, Greg." He brought the crop

down on Greg's ass three times in rapid succession. A
sharp cry split the air, Greg jerking. Yes.

He hit three times again, this time the other cheek,

leaving much darker welts.

"No." Greg shook his head, groaned softly.
"Give it to me, Greg." He wanted Greg's submission,

and Greg needed to let go, to give it.

"I..."
Ap hit one nipple, the outside of Greg's thigh, right

above the bare cock.

"What do you want?"
"I want you to give in to the pain, I want you to sink

into it, into your subspace. That's not going to happen
while you're trying to stay quiet." He hit the other
nipple.

"Fuck!" Greg's head felt back.
"That's better." He got Greg's belly with the next hit,

and then the right hip.

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"Stings..." Greg twisted in the chains.
"Yes. Focus on that. Feel that. Let everything else

go."

Ap hit behind Greg's knee, across the broad

shoulders, careful to avoid the scars from Greg's surgery
lower on his back.

There were some beautiful marks on his boy, but not

enough noises yet -- Greg was holding on to his control
so very tightly.

He hit Greg's cock once, not hard enough to hurt, but

more than enough to feel, and Greg grunted. He slid the
crop down, moved Greg's balls with it. Greg keened,
balls drawing up tight.

"That's it, boy. You let me have every sound -- all of

your need."

He sent the crop across Greg's thighs, then the backs

of them. The sounds came faster now, like Greg couldn't
bear to hold them in. He kept moving the blows around,
hitting hard sometimes, not as hard other times, like
when he flicked the crop along Greg's crack. Every hit
there got him a broken cry, though, so he kept it up.

He would push Greg until his boy found that

subspace again, sank into it and flew.

The tremors started, low sounds filling the air. He

unzipped his jeans, his prick pushing out, and then
grabbed Greg's asscheeks, spread them so he could rub
his cock along Greg's crack.

"You are mine, boy. You will be bare for me because

I need it. You wear my marks. Wear a plug while you're

full of my seed." They'd gotten tested after their trip to
town and the results had come back only a few days ago.
Clean. Exclusive. It was a big step, but it was a good
one.

"Yes. Master. Yes."
"Good boy." He continued to whip the crop over

Greg's chest, drawing more cries out of his boy.

Greg was swaying, body shaking in the chains.
"Gonna get the slick now, boy. Gonna make you fly."
Greg's answer was a low, desperate moan.

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He put the crop back in the wardrobe and grabbed the

lube and a mid-sized plug, heading back quickly to his
boy. His prick bounced with every step. Greg was only
half-hard, those eyes burning on him.

"I'm going to spread you. Have you. Fill you up."
"Please. Anything. Everything."
"There's my needy boy." He reached up and undid

Greg's hands, catching his boy as Greg was freed.

Greg groaned, heavy and boneless in his arms. He

kissed the back of Greg's neck and carried his boy to the
bed, laying Greg down on his belly. Greg's ass was up,
striped, offered to him.

"I am such a lucky man." He slid his hands over

Greg's ass.

"Master..." Greg spread.
"Yes." He spread Greg's cheeks and licked along his

boy's crack.

Slick, smooth, salty -- his boy's flesh was burning. He

stabbed his tongue into Greg's hole.

"Yes...." Greg tightened, groaned, rocked back

toward him.

He pushed his tongue deeper and wriggled it around.

He scratched at Greg's thighs, tugged the heavy balls,
trying to drive his boy crazy. Finding one of the welts on
Greg's ass, he pushed his thumb along it. Greg cried out,
the sound sharp and needy.

That was right. His boy. His needy, wanton, lovely

boy. His own. He bit down on Greg's shoulder, leaving a
mark.

"Want you, boy."
"Yes." Greg nodded, moaned, spread.
He moved up between Greg's legs, pushing at his

boy's hole. Greg pushed back, body eager, easy for him.

"All mine." He pushed smoothly in, filling that tight

little hole. His boy's held him like a glove, welcoming
him in deep. It felt so good without the condom between
them. More intimate, like their flesh was truly joined.
He moaned as he sank all the way in, right to the root,
his hips snug up against Greg's ass.

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Greg's skin was hot, burning, aching against his

thighs. He shifted his hips, moving them in a circle.

"Master. Burns."
"Good. Sink into it, Greg. Let it become pleasure."
Greg whimpered, but the sound was more need than

desperation. He kept circling his cock, rubbing his hips
over Greg's ass. The cries became moans, soft and low,
full of pleasure.

"Yes. Yes, boy, that's it." That was when he started to

pull slowly out, push back in, letting Greg feel every
inch.

Greg moaned and leaned back, taking him easily. It

felt so good, being held tight inside Greg. The muscles
worked his cock, rippling and milking him. He tightened
his hands on Greg's hips and sped his thrusts, building in
strength, building the pleasure. Greg relaxed, submitted,

met every thrust.

He found a good, hard rhythm that would drive them

both higher and higher. His thumbs dug into Greg's
striped ass, making his boy cry out.

"Yes!" He pounded in, working Greg hard.
Greg's sounds filled the air, ringing through the room.

He could feel himself getting closer to his climax, and
he grabbed hold of Greg's cock, jacking it quickly.

"Master. Master." That sweet prick throbbed,

swelling in his hand.

"Come for me, Greg. Let me feel your pleasure." It

was half a request, mostly a demand. "Come!" He
slammed in, nailing Greg's gland.

He felt Greg's orgasm all around his cock.
"Yes! Yes!" He jerked, spilling into Greg. His boy.

His. He let Greg milk his pleasure from him.

He leaned over Greg when he was done, his forehead

resting against Greg's back.

"Master."
Yes. "Yes. Yours. Right here." He patted Greg's hip,

his breathing slowing.

"Can we stay here for a while? Please?"
"Yes." He reached for a plug, careful not to slip out

of his boy.

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"Thank you." Greg sounded so easy now. It was

getting easier for his boy to find that subspace. One day
it would be second nature to drop into it.

He slicked the plug up carefully, then began to pull

out. Greg's moan was low, deep, almost a complaint.

"Shh. I've got a plug here for you. Gonna keep you

full of my spunk."

His boy's shiver was perfect, delicious.
The second his prick slid out, he pushed the plug in

in its place.

"Master..." Greg hummed, curled into himself.
"Right here. Beside you and inside you."
The softest kiss landed on his wrist.
"Mmm." He nuzzled Greg's neck as he settled,

spooned up behind Greg.

They were going to survive Oliver's visit just fine.

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Chapter Thirteen

Greg woke up to the dogs wanting food and outside,

and he did his chores quickly, on autopilot as he started
coffee and the fire.

A voice came from the kitchen doorway. "Is that

coffee I smell?" Jack.

"It is." God, he needed clothes.
"Thank God." Jack gave him a small smile. "There's

snow out there, and I can't deal with that until I have
some coffee. What can I do to help?"

"I was considering muffins." He was covered in

marks.

Jack clearly was looking, too. Then, all of a sudden,

Jack smiled. "I had a good night, too. Master Oliver was
in fine form. Although he gagged me -- we didn't want

to disturb you guys."

Greg's cheeks heated. Hell, he was still plugged. "I...

Yeah. Yeah, it was good." It was. He was good.

Jack grinned at him. "You look happy, Greg. I'm so

glad for you. Now tell me what I can do to help?" Jack
waved in the general direction of the stove.

"Do you like banana muffins?"
"I do. I'm not really a picky eater. Master Oliver likes

them, too."

Greg knew that from the time he'd spent with them,

on and off after… after Tim had been shot. He focussed
on food.

"Let's make those and some sausages. I'm going to

get a robe and some socks."

"Are you allowed?" Jack asked, eyes going wide.
"No, but this is weird. I'll talk to Ap."
"I don't mind," Jack told him earnestly. "Lots of subs

go naked at the club."

Greg nodded. "With their Masters."
He headed into the playroom, hoping Ap was awake.

His master was sprawled out, naked but for the covers
on his feet. He chuckled softly, leaned down and left a
feather-light kiss on the soft, good-smelling ballsac.

Ap groaned for him, legs spreading. "Mmm. Greg."

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"Master." He kissed again, then nuzzled in, inhaling

deeply, filling himself with his Master's scent.

"This is a wonderful way to wake up," murmured Ap,

fingers sliding over his bare scalp.

"I was missing you." Which was true. He needed

cover or his master, either worked. His tongue moved
over the crease where Ap's thigh met torso.

Ap spread wider for him, offering him the lovely ass,

the balls, the cock. "Feels good."

"I left Jack in the kitchen." He nosed Ap's balls aside,

licking behind.

"We should get up. We have guests." Ap didn't make

to get up, though, he just pushed into Greg's mouth.

"Uh-huh." He slipped his hands under Ap's ass,

spreading the muscled cheeks. "I want to taste you."

"I want you to taste me, too."

"Good." He let his tongue slide down, tease the

wrinkled skin of Ap's hole.

He got another groan, Ap still pushing toward him.

He licked and lapped, thumb sliding over the wrinkled
skin between Ap's balls and hole.

"Sweet touch." There was a catch in Ap's voice, a

gasp.

He wanted to make his Master fly, need, want so

badly.

"Touch my cock," Ap demanded.
His tongue pushed into Ap's hole as his hand found

the hard, needy cock.

"Yes!" Ap's cry rang in his ears.
A surge of pride filled him. He'd done this. He'd

given his Master this pleasure.

Ap's hands continued to move over his head, his face,

the touches stuttering through his kisses and licks. His

hand kept working Ap's cock as he tongue-fucked that
tight hole, giving Ap all he had.

"Yes, Greg. Fuck." Ap jerked up into his hand and

added a muttered, "So close."

Greg let his hand roll over Ap's slit twice more.
"Greg!" Ap bucked hard, spunk spraying out of his

cock.

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He slipped up, slowly licking Ap clean.
"Mmm... That was a lovely wake-up."
He kissed Ap's cock. "Thank you."
Ap tugged gently. "Come lie with me for a minute."
He nodded, curling into his Master's arms. "Good

morning."

"Yes, a very good morning." Ap kissed the top of his

head and then tilted his head, kissed his lips.

He settled in, happy. "I came to ask for a robe or for

you to come into the kitchen was me, but then I saw
you."

Ap chuckled. "Pure temptation, was I?"
"Yes." Absolutely.
That earned him more laughter. "We should get up.

We have guests."

"We do, and I only started coffee."

"Up, then. We'll make something yummy for

breakfast, share it with them."

Greg nodded, got up, knowing that Ap was looking,

seeing his welts from last night.

"Mmm. Look at you." Ap sat and reached, fingers

sliding on his skin.

"I have your marks."
"You do." The words sounded incredibly satisfied.
"You're not going to let me wear a robe, are you?"
"No, I'm not. Our guests won't be shocked. By your

nakedness or your marks." Ap stood and stretched,

yawned, body toned, beautiful.

"Will you stay with me?" He needed Ap close to him.
"Of course. I'll even help you cook."
"I was thinking muffins."
"Let's have bacon, too." Ap had a thing for bacon.
Slipping on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Ap took his

hand and led him back to the kitchen.

"You're cooking the bacon." He managed a wink, a

grin.

Ap put his head back and laughed. Oliver and Jack

looked up from their coffee cups.

"It sounds like a very good morning." Oliver was

chuckling.

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"It is. We were just discussing the finer points of

cooking bacon." Ap slid his hand on Greg's ass and gave
it a little squeeze before going to grab the cast iron pan.

"Bacon grease pops." He managed a smile for Jack.

"Sorry for taking so long."

Jack giggled. "Don't worry about it. Master Oliver

likes to just have coffee to begin with in the morning."

"Me, too." It was hard to be naked with everyone else

dressed, but no one was staring.

"Can I help with anything?" Jack asked again, as Ap

took a pile of bacon out of the fridge.

He shook his head. "I'll just make some quick

muffins. Are... are you able to visit long?"

"We have some business with you, Greg." Master

Oliver smiled kindly. "We were hoping to spend a few
days with you both, as well, before going back to

Toronto."

"We're happy to have you," Ap told Oliver.
"Business?" He looked at Ap, suddenly worried. Ap

gave him an encouraging smile.

Oliver nodded. "We have your things, Greg. Plus

there are some business transactions."

He nodded. "Okay."
"Maybe after breakfast you'd like to sit down together

at my desk," Ap suggested.

"I want you there." He wasn't doing this alone.
"I'd be happy to be there for you."
He took Ap's fingers, squeezed.
Ap drew him in close and kissed him softly. "It's

going to be fine."

Time stopped and he held Ap's gaze. "Yes, Master."
Ap smiled down at him. Then the moment was gone

and Ap turned back to his bacon.

Jack was looking at him, grinning, and Greg stuck his

tongue out. "Go squish bananas."

"Oh, I can help. Goodie." Jack laughed and went to

the fruit bowl, grabbing a couple of ripe ones. "How
many?"

"Three, please."
Dork.

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"There's something very therapeutic about mashing

up bananas," Jack noted, eyes twinkling.

"I think so. You can mash walnuts after, if you want."

He fought his grin.

"Bananas and now walnuts?" Jack laughed. "You are

so naughty."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but chuckled as well. They all

laughed, even Ap, and it was okay.

Even if he was naked.

***

Once they'd eaten, Ap handed Greg his jeans and a t-

shirt. "You're not my boy for this business meeting, and
I'm just here for whatever support you need."

"But..." Greg met Ap's eyes. "No. No, I'm always

your boy. I'll deal with this, but don't take that away
from me."

Ap smiled and touched Greg's cheek. He nodded.

"Then you don't get to wear the clothing. My boy is
naked indoors."

He'd felt it was only right to let Greg deal with this

on his own if that's what he wanted, but Ap had to admit
he was pleased that Greg had committed to being his
boy full time.

"Fine. Fine, but I'm yours. You said."
He cupped Greg's cheeks; his boy was already

beginning to freak out and hadn't even heard what he'd
been left yet. "You are mine. Nothing is going to change

that."

Greg leaned into the touch. "Okay. Good."
He leaned his forehead against Greg's. "That's one

swat when we're done here."

"God damn it."
He chuckled softly, kissed Greg. "Ready to hear what

Oliver has to say?"

"No, but I want to get it all done."
"Good boy." He took Greg's hand and squeezed it,

then brought Greg over to the big desk that served as his

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office. Oliver was already waiting for them, sitting in his
chair.

Oliver smiled at them. "Are we ready?"
Ap looked at his boy and nodded. "We're ready."
"I have your things from storage here. I didn't open

the boxes, but there are five of them. Tim's estate is out
of probate. Everything is settled and it's been left in your
name."

"Greg was his only heir?" Ap asked.
"Yes. There was a sister and a brother, but they both

agreed to follow Tim's wishes, barring the few family
pictures."

"So what exactly does that mean for Greg?"
Greg had been silent since Oliver started talking, so

Ap asked the questions for him.

"There's the house, the vehicles, life insurance, plus

investments." Oliver sighed. "The total worth is about
five million dollars."

Ap felt his eyebrows climb up his head. "Five

million?"

"Yes, depending on the value of the house when it

sells. I assume you don't want it."

Greg shook his head. "No. I don't want it." Greg was

shivering.

Ap slid his hand along Greg's shoulders. He was here

for his boy.

"Okay, how do you want to deal with it?" Oliver gave

Greg a kindly look.

"I don't care. Burn it down. Give it away. Do you

want it?"

"Is there anything of the estate that you want to keep,

Greg? Or should we ask Oliver to sell it all?" Ap figured
the money would be more useful to Greg, but this was
entirely his boy's decision.

"I don't want it. It was his. I was only there for a short

time and...why did he leave it to me?"

"Because you were his lover," Ap suggested, and

glanced over at Oliver.

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"Because he loved you, Greg. He was taken with you

for the moment he saw you. He wanted you to be taken
care of."

Greg looked devastated, guilty and sick and

exhausted, almost old. "I don't want the house."

"So Oliver will sell it. He can sell it all, Greg."
He stroked his hand along Greg's spine; he hated that

this business was bringing all of Greg's feelings of guilt
and sorrow back up.

"Okay. What else?"
Oliver sighed. "There's a bunch of Tim's journals,

from your time with him. He wanted you to have them."

Greg shrank.
"We can put them away until Greg is ready to read

them."

"Absolutely." Two books were handed to him.

Ap took them. He would put them in the closet, on

the shelf. Away. Somewhere that Greg wouldn't have to
worry about them.

"Is there anything else, Oliver?" They needed it all on

the table, so Greg didn't get blindsided later on.

"I just need signatures on things so that we can start

moving money."

"Let's get it done."
It took another half an hour before Greg was done,

then his boy stood. "I need a shower, Master. Please."

He nodded. "Together." Greg didn't need a chance to

be all on his own and freaking out.

"Fine. I just... I'm sorry, Master Oliver. I need my

master now." Greg looked right at Oliver. "I need to be
with him."

Oliver nodded and gave Greg a warm smile. "Take

your time. Jack and I can more than amuse ourselves for
a while. And Greg. I'm so pleased you've found your

home."

"Thank you." Greg was holding on by the skin of his

teeth. Ap could tell.

He stood and shook Oliver's hand, then he turned his

attention to his boy. "Come on. Shower first."

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Greg nodded, almost running to their room, shoulders

beginning to shake. Ap followed quickly, his whole
focus on his boy now. Nothing else mattered.

Greg got the water going, stepped in before it had a

chance to heat, and gasped, shivering under the spray.
Ap shook his head, but didn't say anything. He did wait
until the water had a chance to become hot before
stepping in with his boy. It meant something that Greg
immediately pushed into his arms, seeking comfort in
his arms.

He held Greg close and kissed the top of his boy's

head. "I have you." He did, and nothing needed to
change. Just because Greg had money, didn't mean he
needed to leave or start buying things or do anything
other than what they were already doing.

"Okay. You'll keep me. Still?"

He swatted Greg's ass. "I will keep you and spank

you every time you say 'okay' forever. My love isn't
conditional on whether or not you have money."

"Okay."
He spanked Greg's ass again. "One more time and

when we get out of this shower I'm giving you a good
long spanking." He thought maybe that was exactly
what Greg wanted.

Greg met his eyes, "Okay."
He nodded, pressed their foreheads together. "When

we get out of the shower. I promise. Good and hard.
Long." For as long as Greg needed it.

"Thank you." Greg kissed him, the action slow,

desperately sweet.

He held onto Greg and kissed his boy back, feeding

one sweet buss after the other to his lover. Greg stayed
close, clinging to him, lips open to his kisses. They
shared kiss after kiss, the water beating down on them,
steam keeping the room warm.

"I want to be yours forever."
"Yes." He didn't want to ever let go. He had the collar

Marcus had made for him to give Greg. Oliver had
brought it with him.

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"Good." Greg settled. "Is it okay not to want to read

the notebooks right now?"

"They're not going anywhere."
"Good. I don't... I want to remember him my way."
"There's nothing wrong with that. If you never read

them, then you never do."

Greg nodded, cheek on his shoulder. "I loved him. I

did, but you're my master."

He nodded. "And you're my boy. Nothing is going to

change that. We're here, together."

"Together. Do you think he's angry with me for

falling in love with you?"

"Who? Tim?"
"Yes. Tim. I hate the thought that he's hurting,

because of me, somewhere."

"He's dead, Greg. What you do doesn't affect him."

"Do you really believe that? You don't believe in..."

Greg trailed off, searching for words.

"I believe that when we die, we move on from this

world. Whether that means going to nothing or going to
another existence…" He shrugged. "Either way, this
world is behind us when we die.

"I don't know about that. I think maybe we watch

people we love."

"Then he's looking at you, and he's happy that you've

found someone and aren't alone."

"I hope so."
"It wouldn't be fair of him to expect you to stay

alone, to not know love after he died, Greg. I don't think
you need to worry about that."

If Tim did, then it hadn't been love he'd felt for Greg.
"I'm happy you found me."
He didn't point out that Oliver had performed the

finding; he was just happy Greg was happy.

"I'm happy you're my boy."
"Good." Greg met his eyes and gave him a quirky

little grin. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

He smiled right back. "That fits in with my plans

perfectly."

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He took himself a kiss, tongue pressing into Greg's
mouth as the water beat down all around them.

***

Greg grabbed another handful of snow and pegged

Jack, right in the butt.

"Gotcha!"
Jack shrieked and jumped. "No fair! You're

cheating!"

"No way!" He grabbed more snow, tossed it for the

dogs to chase.

"You are! You've had practice with snow." Jack was

laughing, though, so he obviously wasn't too serious.

Greg ran for Jack, laughing hard as he tackled the

man and took them both down, the snow puffing around

them.

"Oh, God!" Jack shrieked again, the sound mixing

with laughter as Jack tried to roll them. Months of
chopping woods had made Greg strong, though.

He slipped the littlest bit of snow down the collar of

Jack's coat. More shrieking came from Jack, and both
Oliver and Ap came tumbling out of the house, throwing
on their coats.

"Uh-huh. They heard us!" Greg grinned down at

Jack, rubbed their noses together.

Jack laughed. "You're a nutjob, Greg."
"I am." He rolled off Jack, started another snowball.
"Hey, that really would be cheating -- point blank

range!"

"It's not for you." He winked over.
Jack's eyes went wide, and then he started giggling,

gathering his own snowball.

"Are you ready?" he whispered.
Jack nodded. "Yeah."
"Now, Jackie." They both reared back, threw the

snowballs.

"Oh, It's on! To arms, Ollie!"
Ap had a great arm and pegged him hard; Jack

responded by running right into Oliver's arms. Ap

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lobbed another one at him. He got Ap right in the chest.
Laughing, Ap gathered up another snowball, tossing it at
him.

"Greg! Greg, you're doing it wrong!" Jack laughed

hard. "You're too far away from Ap!"

Ap bent, taking his time with his next snowball. Greg

stepped closer, drawn to his Master. Ap stood, snowball
in hand. He grinned, tossing it at Greg. It sailed over his
head. Laughing, Greg dropped his ammo and headed for
Ap's open arms.

Ap's mouth descended on his, the only hot thing in

the cold. Laughing, happy, he pressed into Ap's warmth,
opening so that hungry tongue could taste him. Ap did,
holding him close. It was strange, to have so many thick
layers between them. Usually there was just Ap's jeans
or sweats, if that.

"Master." He moaned the word, loving how Ap

smiled for him.

Jack squealed again and laughed. "Snow is so cold!"
Ap laughed and Greg grinned. "That's why it's call

snow, Jack."

His master laughed again. "We should make hot

chocolate, sit by the fire. They make the cold weather a
very good thing."

"Oh, yes. Please." He nodded. "Please, Master."
"That sounds amazing," Jack chimed in.
Oliver grinned. "I concur."
"Then it's a plan. Time to see my boy's skin again."
Greg felt his cheeks heat. Ap took his hand and led

them all back inside.

They stomped off the snow in the mud room,

everyone stripping off coats and mitts. The dogs joined
them, barking and underfoot before Ap sent them to the

kitchen.

"I'll get them dried off." He still had on his coveralls,

socks.

"They'll dry by the stove. You strip while I get the

chocolate started."

"I... Are you sure?"
"Yep. Go on and sit by the fire with Jack."

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170

"Okay." He stripped down, starting to shiver.
Ap gave him a kiss and slid a cold hand over his ass.

He peeped, stepped closer. Ap chuckled and tugged him
in. His clothes were cold, but between the two of them
they warmed quickly. Jack and Oliver were warming
each other up, too, and they all slowly headed fully into
the toasty kitchen instead of the living room with its fire.

"So, hot chocolate for everyone? And do we have

anything decadent and dessert-y to go with it, Greg?" Ap
asked.

"We have cinnamon buns."
"Oh, that sounds perfect. Those homemade ones of

yours?" Ap sounded hopeful.

"Mmmhmm." He kissed the corner of Ap's mouth,

grabbed a soft blanket to keep him warm as he went to
heat them.

"Excellent. Greg's cinnamon buns are almost as good

as the buns on the back of him."

"Master!"
Ap grinned, winked at him as Oliver chuckled and

Jack giggled. Together they managed hot chocolate and
buns, before they all settled together on the sofa. He was
tucked in against Ap's side. That was much nicer than
sitting with just Jack while waiting for Ap to come back.

Greg hummed happily, and he couldn't help his

smile.

Jack caught his eye and smiled at him. "This is a

great place, honey."

"It is, isn't it?" It was home.
"On that note..." Ap smiled and got up, went over to

his desk.

"Master?" He curled up in the blankets.
"I have something for you, and I think now is the

perfect time." Ap took something from his desk and

walked back, stood in front of him. "I want you to kneel
for me, boy."

"O..." He stopped himself, slid to the floor. "Yes, sir."
Ap's hand slid over his head. "Nice catch."
"Thank you." He leaned into the touch.

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171

"I wanted to do this now with Oliver and Jack as

witnesses. I know we don't need them to do this, but
with them representing the community that we're a part
of, I feel like it means that we're telling the world."

Ap brought his other hand around and opened it up.

In it was a deep, deep red collar a little more than half an
inch wide. There were carvings on it -- in fact, it looked
like they'd been burned in -- and Ap turned the collar so
Greg could see it. The carvings spelled out,
"Appleton's."

There was a little brass lock attached.
"Will you wear my collar?"
"Please. Forever. Master."
Ap smiled, eyes full of happiness. "Bend your head a

little."

Greg bent his bald head, eyes closing. Ap slid the

collar around his neck, closed it, then tilted his head
back up to put the lock on. Greg swallowed hard, the
leather moving on his throat.

The key was on a chain, and Ap put it around his own

neck. "Now it's official. You're mine."

Greg nodded, tears surprisingly close as he choked

up. Ap bent slowly, mouth closing over his. He sobbed
once, then pushed into Ap's arms.

His. His master.
Jack clapped. "Oh, Master Ap, that was beautiful!"
Oliver hummed. "Perfect. I believe, Jack, that it's

time for a nap."

"Thank you for witnessing, Jack, Oliver." Ap's chest

rumbled beneath his ear.

"Mmmhmm." He tried to smile, but... Ap was his

whole world.

A moment later, Ap tilted his head, bringing their lips

together for a kiss, this one deep, hard. It took his breath
and made his head spin. He moaned, pushing into it,
tongue sliding on Ap's as he flew. Ap's hands slid to his

ass, cupping it, squeezing it.

"Master." He pressed back into the touch.
"Want you," growled Ap.
"Yours." That was the easiest answer ever.

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172

"Yes, Mine." Ap growled softly and then picked him

up, putting him right over one shoulder. They headed up
the stairs to Ap's -- their -- bedroom.

His hands slid down Ap's back, loving on his master

as they went. Ap hummed for him, one hand coming up
to slide over his ass. The touch made him smile, made
his toes curl.

Then they were in the bedroom, their door closing,

and it was just the two of them, Ap laying him down on
the bed.

This was real. This was his life.
Ap's fingers slid over his body, up his thighs, past his

hips. Greg arched, legs spreading, toes curling.

"Look at you. Look at my boy." Ap slid his fingers

right up to the new collar.

"Yours." He couldn't stop smiling. "I'm home, all the

way."

"We are."
Ap's mouth closed over his, this kiss as breathtaking

as the first had been. Greg wrapped around his master,
around his lover, his heart, his happiness. His Ap.

Without breaking their kiss, Ap began to undo his

clothes, pulling at his sweater one-handed. Greg helped,
wanting skin. Every time he swallowed, the collar on his
neck moved. Soon Ap was as naked as he was, pressing
all along his body. He could feel Ap's body hair against
his own shaved-smooth skin.

He cried out, the sensations amazing, huge where

they rushed over his body. Ap's tongue invaded, tasted

him, took him as their pricks rubbed, heat on heat. All
the way, those hands explored his skin, touching him,
making him twist. Ap found every bruise and welt that
had been left on his body. Each one was stroked,
pressed. By the time Ap's fingers were on his lips, his
world was spinning, anchored only on Ap.

Ap pressed three fingers into his mouth, the muttered

"suck" the hottest thing ever. Greg pulled hard, moaning
around the fingers, sucking steadily. Ap groaned, too,
hips pushing into his, both fingers and body fucking
him.

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173

Their eyes met, and Ap smiled, nodded. "Mine, boy.

Forever. I swear."

Greg nodded. Forever.
Then Ap's fingers pulled away, his master holding his

gaze as those fingers moved between his legs and
pushed at his hole.

"Forever. I promise." Greg meant it.
"Me, too." Two fingers pushed inside him, stretching

him, the burn just about perfect.

"Want you." He wanted to hold Ap inside him.
Nodding, Ap pushed another finger into him. "Grab

one of the plugs." There were several in the bedside
table, along with lube and cuffs.

He looked at Ap, winked, and said, "Okay."

end

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