By His Rules Page 17

  cheek.

  They were unbelievably soft. “What are you—”

  Aiden began.

  “Shh,” Keaton said. He grinned devilishly and

  brought the paintbrush between Aiden’s legs, letting the

  fine, silky bristles glide over Aiden’s balls.

  “No,” Aiden said, squirming desperately. “You

  can’t.”

  “I am,” Keaton said, brushing Aiden’s balls again.

  He dragged the brush up the shaft of Aiden’s cock, then

  back down.

  “Oh God.”

  Keaton increased the speed of his brushstrokes,

  going up and down and back and forth, covering Aiden’s

  cock, balls, and the skin behind his balls. Finally Keaton

  focused his attentions on the head of Aiden’s cock. Aiden

  yelped and came, his cum collecting in the bristles.

  Keaton swept sticky wetness over Aiden’s belly and

  inner thighs, painting him with it. Aiden clutched the

  workbench, gasping. “Did I ruin your brush?” he asked

  finally.

  Keaton burst out laughing. “That’s all you can

  say?”

  Aiden blushed. “I mean, that was—I just—”

  “It can be cleaned,” Keaton said, kissing him.

  * * * *

  Over the next few days, Keaton continued to give

  Aiden brief writing assignments to help generate ideas

  for his personal statement. Aiden continued to brush

  them off. The deadlines for the applications were now

  less than a month away. He’d arranged to audition

  privately for Case Western in mid-December and would

  be sending a video audition to Irvine and to State. He

  worked on a couple of short monologues each day while

  Keaton was teaching, and felt more discouraged each

  time he practiced them.

  I suck. I absolutely suck. I’ll never get in. Why waste the

  program directors’ time—and my own?

  The stress made him irritable. Keaton had had to

  warn him a couple of times already this week to Be

  Respectful, and to Talk to Him if There Was a Problem.

  Fuck respectful. And fuck talking to Keaton about

  his feelings. Sex was the only thing that took his mind off

  the stress, and he sought Keaton out as often as possible

  for it, until by the end of the week his cock and asshole

  were both sore and raw.

  Thursday night found him sniping at Keaton as he

  struggled to sort through the mess of feelings inside him.

  “Something wrong?” Keaton asked as Aiden

  chopped onion for supper, slamming the knife against

  the cutting board.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Aiden muttered.

  “Y—”

  “If you’re going to start on that ‘share your feelings’

  bullshit, you can save it. I don’t want to talk. I just want

  to fucking cook”—SLAM—“in”—slam—“peace.” The

  cutting board tipped, and the onion rolled into the sink.

  Aiden was about to throw the knife in after it when

  Keaton took his wrist and removed the knife from his

  hand.

  “That’s enough now,” Keaton whispered. “Go sit

  down. I’ll take care of dinner.”

  “You sit down!” Aiden shouted, trying to pull

  away.

  Keaton held on, neither tightening his grip on

  Aiden nor losing his temper. “Come on, now.” He led

  Aiden, cursing and pulling, to the kitchen table.

  “I’m not going to sit down! I’m not going to fucking

  sit down! Let go of me, you bastard!”

  Keaton spun Aiden so that his back was pressed

  against Keaton and he was trapped by his own arms.

  “No!” Aiden stomped one foot.

  “I’d think twice before you kick me,” Keaton said

  calmly.

  Aiden thought about it. Twice.

  And decided to do it.

  Keaton evidently anticipated the kick and moved

  his leg.

  “Fuck!” Aiden thrashed until he was exhausted,

  and Keaton never budged.

  The next thing Aiden knew, he was slumped in a

  chair, head resting against Keaton’s stomach. Keaton was

  stroking his shoulders, murmuring to him. Aiden heard

  his own sobs as though they were someone else’s. He

  didn’t want to be here; he refused to be here. He wanted

  to be far away. This was someone else losing control,

  someone else being a coward and a jerk.

  “Aiden?” Keaton’s voice was loud as though he’d

  been trying to get Aiden’s attention for some time.

  Aiden reluctantly sat up, refusing to look at Keaton.

  He let Keaton lift him out of the chair and guide him into

  the living room, onto the couch. Aiden stared resolutely

  at the floor. Keaton didn’t speak, just continued stroking

  Aiden’s back.

  “I haven’t been doing the writing assignments,”

  Aiden said hoarsely. “I could never think of anything to

  write, so I didn’t do them.” He swallowed. “Now my

  applications are due in a few weeks, and I still don’t

  have a personal statement. I have to audition, but my

  monologues are terrible—” His voice broke. “I can’t. I

  can’t fucking do this. I’m not good enough; I don’t know

  what I’m doing. I can’t even get the applications done… ”

  “Shh,” Keaton said, pulling him close. Aiden

  resisted for a moment, then let his head fall on Keaton’s

  shoulder. “These are the kinds of things I want you to

  tell me,” Keaton said. “You don’t ever have to let

  yourself get this stressed.”

  “There’s nothing you can do! You can’t make me a

  better actor. You can’t write my statement for me. So

  what fucking good would it do?”

  “I’ll help you. I won’t let you go through this

  alone.”

  “It’s not your business whether I fuck up my life or

  not,” Aiden snapped.

  “I believe we’ve agreed it is my business.”

  Aiden closed his eyes. Shit. “You can’t help me,” he

  repeated.

  “You don’t know that until you let me try.”

  I am so dead. Keaton was right, and Aiden was

  positive he was in hot water. Suddenly nothing about a

  discipline relationship seemed silly at all. Run, Cole.

  While you still can.

  “Okay,” Aiden said, voice as steady as he could

  make it. “I’ll do better. I’ll tell you next time.”

  “Good,” Keaton said.

  He didn’t say anything further, so Aiden took a

  deep breath and asked, “Am I in trouble?”

  Keaton squeezed his shoulder. “We’re going to

  deal with the two broken rules, yes.”

  “Two?” Aiden asked in a small voice.

  “Do you know which ones?”

  Aiden’s face burned. “Um—I was a shit to you. So

  number one. Being respectful and mature?”

  “You weren’t a shit. But you were disrespectful,

  yes. And?”

  “Number five? Not talking to you when I get

  overwhelmed.”

  “Good.”

  Aiden warmed at the praise—pathetic, considering

  his answers had just condemned him to his first real

  punishment. He tu
rned his face so that he could inhale

  the scent of Keaton’s shirt and of the warm, strong body

  beneath. “And I lied to you about the writing

  assignments. So number one again.”

  Aiden waited for Keaton to push him away and

  start punishing him, but Keaton kept rubbing his back.

  “That about covers it,” Keaton said.

  Aiden removed his face from Keaton’s shoulder,

  though he still couldn’t meet the other man’s gaze. He

  concentrated on his hands, folded in his lap. He would

  have given about anything to be allowed to bite off a nail

  or two. “So… what’s my punishment?”

  “I think a spanking would clear the slate nicely.

  Don’t you?”

  No? “Um… I guess.”

  This was too weird. Keaton was being way too nice.

  And yet for some reason Aiden suddenly felt more

  terrified than he’d ever been when Scott prepared to

  whip him.

  “Now?” he asked.

  “If you’re ready.”

  Aiden nodded, heart thudding. This was it. Keaton

  was actually going to spank him—not as a game, and not

  just a couple of swats to settle him down.

  And not to harm him, Aiden reminded himself. At

  least, Keaton had said he’d never do anything that left

  marks. But that was before Aiden tried to kick him.

  Keaton squeezed his shoulder. “Stand up.”

  Keaton’s voice was as calm as ever, but there was a

  new quality in his voice. It wasn’t sharp or hard or angry.

  But it was authoritative, certain—and strangely

  reassuring. Aiden suddenly understood how Keaton—

  laid-back, friendly Keaton—could command respect.

  He stood, trying not to let Keaton see him shake.

  How could he possibly be this nervous about a

  spanking? He’d been spanked dozens of times before. It

  was a huge turn-on for him. Yet his dick was completely

  soft, and his throat was dry, and he wanted to grab his

  heart and shake it and order it to be still. He waited,

  unsure what to do next. Keaton reached out and took his

  wrist, guiding him closer to his lap.

  “Keaton, wait!” He didn’t mean for the words to

  escape, and he certainly didn’t expect Keaton to heed

  them. But to his surprise, Keaton waited. Aiden

  struggled to get his thoughts together, his breathing

  under control. “This is—different,” Aiden stammered,

  “than I thought.”

  “There’s no rush,” Keaton said. “Talk to me.”

  Aiden dropped his gaze. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I know

  I deserve this. I’m just—I don’t know what’s wrong with

  me.”

  “Deep breath,” Keaton said. “It’s going to be all

  right. I’m going to punish you. But I won’t harm you. I

  know it’s frightening, but we’re doing this together.”

  “I’m not scared of a spanking!”

  “No. You’re scared of letting go, of surrendering, of

  letting me see how you truly feel.”

  “Fuck,” Aiden said softly. Keaton was right.

  “But you’re safe here. You can react however you

  want to. You can struggle, you can yell, you can cry—

  anything. I won’t think any less of you.”

  Aiden remembered how Scott had been turned on

  when he fought. Was there a reason Keaton had

  mentioned struggling? He should have known Keaton

  had some weird kink. “Do you want me to struggle?” he

  asked dully.

  “What’s that?” Keaton asked.

  “Do you want me to fight you? When you’re

  spanking me? Is that—good, for you?”

  Keaton sighed and pulled Aiden back down to the

  couch. He lifted Aiden’s chin, forcing him to meet his

  eyes. “Aiden. Remember, this isn’t something I do for

  pleasure. This is to help you. If you need to struggle,

  do.”

  “Shit. Keaton. I’m fucking this all up.”

  “You’re not. You’re doing fine.”

  Aiden swallowed. “Scott liked when I fought him. I

  just—I don’t quite understand what the difference is

  yet.”

  “Would you like to see?” Keaton asked.

  “Okay. Okay, let’s get it over with.” Aiden stood.

  He fumbled with his fly. Keaton eased his hand away

  and took over, undoing Aiden’s jeans and sliding pants

  and underwear down to midthigh. Aiden winced as cool

  air played over his exposed rump.

  Keaton took his wrist once more and guided Aiden

  over his lap so that Aiden’s upper body was supported

  by the couch and his legs hung down, toes touching the

  carpet. He felt ludicrously young and extremely foolish.

  Keaton tipped him forward slightly so that his butt was

  higher in the air.

  Jesus. How did I ever think this was sexy?

  Worse than the embarrassment was the knowledge

  that he deserved this. He’d been horrible to Keaton and

  had compromised himself as well. He deserved much

  worse than a spanking. If Keaton had any sense, he’d

  take his belt to him.

  He tried to breathe, reminding himself that it

  wouldn’t really hurt. It was just the vulnerability of his

  position that was hard to deal with. He jumped as

  Keaton rested a palm on the small of his back, then

  moved it down to Aiden’s bottom. He patted softly.

  “Relax.”

  Not a chance. Aiden tensed, waiting for the first slap.

  When it didn’t come, he took another deep breath, trying

  to relax. Keaton patted his butt again, as though in

  approval, then lifted his palm and brought it down

  across the center of both cheeks. Hard.

  Aiden sucked in a breath. Really hard! The center of

  Aiden’s bottom blazed, and the sting was just starting to

  spread when Keaton lifted his hand and brought it down

  again.

  Oh God. I can’t do this. This fucking hurts !

  Keaton picked up speed, alternating cheeks,

  building the fire quickly and steadily. The whacks were

  impossibly loud in the otherwise silent living room.

  What really surprised Aiden was how much it stung.

  He’d been whipped, flogged, paddled, even caned, but

  the deep, bruising pain of those spankings was

  something entirely different from the maddening sting of

  this punishment.

  Keaton smacked the crest of each buttock until

  Aiden finally lunged forward in an effort to get Keaton to

  hit somewhere else. But Keaton worked over that same

  area until Aiden couldn’t control his legs’ twitching and

  kicking. He stayed quiet, though, not even whimpering

  as Keaton returned to the center of his butt, smacking

  both cheeks at the same time, over and over. He was

  shocked at how genuinely sorry he felt. All he wanted

  was for this to be over, for Keaton to forgive him. After

  that, Aiden promised himself, he’d never break another

  rule.

  Keaton stopped and rested his palm on Aiden’s

  blazing butt. “When you have a problem—when you’re

  feeling stressed or unsure or upset—you need to tell me.

  If you’d told me fr
om the beginning that you were

  having trouble with your writing assignments, that you

  were discouraged about your monologues, we could

  have addressed those issues right away. Instead you let

  your frustration build until you had to take it out on

  somebody. On me.”

  Tears welled in his eyes. The spanking stung, but

  Keaton’s words stung much worse.

  “I’m on your side, Aiden. You need to trust me.”

  Keaton rubbed Aiden’s sore cheeks, soothing some of the

  fire away.

  “I’m sorry,” Aiden whispered.

  “I know,” Keaton said. “Let’s finish this.”

  Aiden shut his eyes, and Keaton began whacking

  again, a sharp hail of swats that made circuits over

  Aiden’s cheeks. Aiden urged himself to stay still but

  couldn’t help wriggling a little, arching his back and

  trying to twist away.

  Keaton held him firmly and began to address the

  lower curves of Aiden’s backside, right where his

  buttocks met his thighs, and the tears started flowing

  then. Aiden pressed his legs shut and bucked a little,

  then went limp. He cried silently, afraid this might never

  end, that Keaton might just keep spanking that sensitive

  juncture forever.

  But Keaton did stop, and Aiden lay quivering

  across his lap, sucking deep breaths. Keaton tilted him

  sideways, hauled him into his lap, and hugged him

  close. Aiden pressed against him, wishing he could

  disappear inside Keaton. Keaton held him until he was

  cried out, murmuring something Aiden couldn’t make

  out at first.

  “I know… I know… ” Keaton was saying, and

  Aiden realized he’d been saying the words “I’m sorry”

  over and over.

  Aiden quieted and slumped against the older man.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “That hurt.”

  Keaton kissed the top of his head. “Keep that in

  mind when you’re tempted to keep secrets in the future.”

  “Yeah.” Aiden’s voice still shook.

  “Ready for some dinner?”

  “You expect me to sit at the table? After that?”

  Keaton chuckled. “Three meals a day, remember?

  Unless you want another spanking.”

  “No,” Aiden said hastily. “I’ll eat.”

  “You can sit on the chair with the cushion.”

  Aiden rolled his eyes. “You’re so considerate.”

  “Why thank you,” Keaton said, dropping another

  quick kiss on the top of his head. “I do try.”

  * * * *

  Aiden ran through his Shakespeare monologue for