By His Rules Read online

  Keaton. The man hadn’t said one word about what

  they’d do if Aiden got into grad school.

  Probably because you won’t do anything. He’ll let you go,

  and that’ll be that.

  Maybe he should have stayed Keaton’s houseguest,

  friendly but detached, then moved back into his old

  place as soon as the subletter left. Instead he’d thrown

  himself at Keaton, desperate to be rid of Scott’s memory,

  and insisted Keaton have sex with him. Then he’d agreed

  to the crazy discipline thing…

  I need the discipline thing. And I love Keaton. What’s so

  crazy or confusing about that?

  He gulped his coffee.

  The fact that it can’t last. That one of us will leave. Keaton

  apparently goes through boys like tissues. If I do compromise my

  future to stay with him, I’ll regret it. He’ll get sick of me and kick

  me out. And then where will I be?

  Aiden finished his coffee, trying to ignore the

  anxious churning of his stomach. He left the bakery and

  took the bus downtown.

  It isn’t healthy for me to rely on Keaton, or on someone

  else providing me with discipline. I’m an adult. I need to make

  my own decisions. Look out for myself.

  A fine job I’m doing of that. He shook his head, lost in

  his argument with himself. So I skipped a couple of meals.

  Big deal. Adults do that sometimes. They also stay out past their

  bedtimes, and—

  Bite their nails, apparently. Aiden glanced at his

  hand gripping the bus pole, and saw he’d chewed the

  skin around two of his fingernails bloody.

  He ought to spend as much time sitting down as

  possible, while he still could.

  Downtown Cleveland wasn’t much fun to walk,

  though he did enjoy seeing the buildings decked out for

  Christmas. He went to Tower City to people watch for a

  while. The enormous shopping center was crowded and

  noisy, but Aiden didn’t mind. He wondered fleetingly

  what he and Keaton might do to celebrate the holidays,

  picturing the two of them in robes and slippers, drinking

  hot chocolate and opening presents. He rolled his eyes at

  his own domestic-bliss fantasy. He didn’t even own a

  robe.

  He left Tower City and wandered into the House of

  Blues, a jazz club, where he listened to some music he

  didn’t really care about while he had a whiskey sour to

  calm his nerves.

  Somehow the next time he looked at his watch, it

  was almost two in the morning. He was slightly to pretty

  damn drunk and had come to like jazz a lot in the last few

  hours. He clapped unsteadily for whoever had just

  finished playing, paid his tab, and went outside. It was

  bitterly cold, and suddenly all he wanted was to be at

  home, in bed, with Keaton. He shivered, trying to

  remember where his bus stop was.

  He had an audition in six hours. Shit.

  And he was going to throw up. Double shit.

  He vomited in a nearby trash can, feeling dirty and

  pathetic.

  Cleveland was not a safe place at night, he knew

  that. He needed to get back to the hotel. He needed

  Keaton.

  He was definitely overwhelmed.

  He called Keaton, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad

  about being woken up. Keaton answered after two rings,

  and his warm, “Hey,” made Aiden close his eyes to hold

  back tears.

  “Hey.” Aiden tried to sound cheerful.

  “You doing all right?”

  “I’m a little drunk,” Aiden confessed.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I threw up.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Um, downtown.” His voice trembled. “I broke

  every rule. Except number one. I’ve been resp-respectful.

  Except calling you now isn’t very nice, I guess. You were

  sleeping.”

  “I’m glad you called me. Can you get a cab back to

  your hotel?”

  “A cab! That’s a good idea. I can’t find the bus.”

  “Get a cab. You know which hotel?”

  “Yeah.” Aiden’s elation at the idea of the cab

  evaporated as he remembered all the things he had to

  confess. “I’m not in bed,” he said. “And I didn’t eat,

  except junk food. I’m really nervous, and I thought I

  might get sick. But I got sick anyway because I had some

  whiskey—but it was just to calm my nerves. And I bit my

  nails! I don’t even remember, but I did.”

  “All that matters right now is that you get back to

  your hotel and get some rest. Did you request a wake-up

  call?”

  “A wake-up ca… ? Oh! Yes.”

  “Good. It might be tough getting up tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get up. I won’t fuck this up.”

  “I know you won’t. I’m glad you called.”

  “Me too. I miss you. I love you so much. I wasn’t

  even scared to call you and tell you what I did, even

  though I know you’ll spank me.”

  “I’m glad. You should never be afraid to call me.”

  “Yeah. I have a cab now.” Aiden waved at the taxi,

  which pulled over to the curb.

  “Stay on the line with me until you’re back.”

  “Okay.” Aiden gave the driver the name of the

  hotel. “You’ll probably spank me hard, huh? All the stuff

  I did.”

  “We’ll talk when you get home.”

  Aiden snorted. “Talk. I know what talking means.

  Me over your lap.”

  “Don’t scare your poor cab driver.”

  “Okay. I’ll be quiet. You can be quiet too. I just like

  knowing you’re there.”

  “I’m here.”

  Aiden rode in silence. The cab pulled up in front of

  the hotel, and Aiden paid. He kept the phone to his ear

  as he took the elevator up, loving the sound of Keaton’s

  movements on the other end. He went down the hall,

  fumbled with his key card, and entered his room,

  relieved. “I’m back.”

  “Good. Now climb into bed, and close your eyes.”

  “Not in my jeans!”

  “Undress then.”

  “You’d like to be here to see me do that, huh?”

  Keaton chuckled. “I would.” His voice was low and

  scratchy.

  Aiden wished there was a way to kiss that voice.

  “You’re tired, huh?”

  “A little.”

  “Me too. You going to sleep now?”

  “Are you?” Keaton asked.

  “I’m hard,” Aiden replied, looking at his

  burgeoning erection.

  “You know what I’d do if I was there?”

  Aiden’s heart sped up. “What?”

  “How wet is your cock?”

  “A little. On the end.”

  “I’d spread your precum over your cock with my

  thumb. Then I’d wrap my fist around the whole thing so I

  could feel how hard you are.”

  Aiden took his cock in his hand and began to stroke

  it. “Oh shit.”

  “I’d start pumping it. And I’d watch you while I

  touched you, so I could see how much you enjoyed it.”

  Aiden gulped and pulled harder on his throbbing

&nb
sp; dick.

  “Are you touching yourself?” Keaton asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Does it feel good?”

  “It’d feel better if it was you.”

  “It is,” Keaton whispered.

  Aiden closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

  “Let me hear you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Come for me.”

  Aiden panted, feeling himself edge closer and

  closer to orgasm as he imagined Keaton’s hands on him,

  Keaton’s voice in his ear, Keaton’s eyes locked with his

  own. He moaned.

  “That’s beautiful. I love listening to you.”

  Aiden let out a small whimper, and his hips rose off

  the mattress.

  “I need this,” Keaton said. “I need to hear you

  come.”

  Aiden squeezed his eyes shut. His body stiffened,

  and he came with a sharp cry, collapsing onto the bed.

  He lay on the sheets, his breath leaving him in rushes

  until it finally evened out and he curled under the

  blankets, exhausted.

  “So good,” Keaton said. “Can you sleep now?”

  “Yeah. You too? We can go to sleep together.”

  “All right. Hang up, though, so your battery doesn’t

  die.”

  “I miss you.”

  “You too. Call me after your audition. Call me

  anytime.”

  “Anytime. Okay. G’night.”

  “Goodnight, kid.”

  Aiden hung up, and fell asleep smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Aiden Cole was happy.

  He couldn’t remember feeling this content for any

  sustained length of time, but for the last two months, life

  had been good. He had a job; he was done with grad

  school applications; his body had filled out, and he

  looked great. He tried not to fret as he waited to hear

  back from MFA programs. He hadn’t botched his Case

  audition back in December, despite delivering his

  monologues with a slight hangover. He’d shared a

  perfect first Christmas with the man he loved—Keaton

  had given him a robe for Christmas, and they had indeed

  drunk hot chocolate in robes and slippers. They’d also

  had Hera, Kim, Sloane, and a couple of Keaton’s friends

  from the school over for dinner and a poker tournament.

  Aiden had recently been cast in another play at the local

  theater, and Keaton had already bought a ticket for

  opening night.

  Aiden wouldn’t have gone so far as to say things

  were perfect. He still worried sometimes about his and

  Keaton’s future. And Scott continued to text and e-mail

  him. Sometimes Aiden deleted the messages without

  looking at them; other times he glanced at them and saw

  invitations, suggestions that made him blush and

  squirm. He ignored every single message, but it

  bothered him that they kept coming. Aiden considered

  talking to Keaton, but doing so would mean confessing

  how long this had been going on.

  Aiden stretched, enjoying the warmth of his and

  Keaton’s bed. Keaton was downstairs in the kitchen,

  making waffles. It was Saturday, and Aiden had nowhere

  to be until six thirty, when they were going to Hera’s for

  dinner. He rolled onto his back, wiggling against the

  sheets, and reflected that it had been a while since he’d

  earned himself a spanking. In the two months since his

  post-Cleveland punishment—which had been so

  thorough that Aiden sometimes swore he could still see

  the red blotches from Keaton’s hand—his behavior had

  been exemplary. And while he was proud of this, he

  occasionally craved the high drama and catharsis of

  acting out and being punished.

  There was something else that had been nagging at

  Aiden, something he hadn’t quite figured out how to

  bring up to Keaton. When Keaton had spanked him for

  breaking the rules while he was in Cleveland, Aiden,

  though thoroughly ashamed and sorry, had felt oddly

  disconnected during the punishment. He’d lain quietly

  over Keaton’s lap, accepting what he was given but not

  really feeling it. The spanking had been one of the most

  severe Keaton had ever given him, yet Aiden’s mind had

  wandered as the swats fell; he’d resisted the catharsis.

  He’d continued to feel distracted, detached when Keaton

  helped him up and held him. He hadn’t cried or clung.

  He’d offered a simple apology and slid off Keaton’s lap.

  He hadn’t really been spanked enough since then to

  know whether the change in his discipline mind-set was

  permanent. A spanking he’d received last month had had

  him kicking and “ow”ing, but the sense of complete

  surrender definitely wasn’t as potent as it had been in the

  past. Keaton continued to spank him occasionally for

  pleasure, and that experience was as powerful as ever.

  But Aiden wondered if disciplinary spankings were

  losing their effect, and if so, was the problem the

  punishments themselves? Did he need Keaton to punish

  him harder, with something more severe than his hand?

  Or was Aiden simply outgrowing the discipline

  relationship, now that he had himself under better

  control?

  He groaned, turning his face into the pillow. He

  didn’t want to think about this now. He rubbed his

  morning erection against the sheets, wishing Keaton

  would forget waffles and come back to bed. Keaton was

  paying far too much attention to food and far too little

  attention to his lover than was proper for a Saturday

  morning.

  Aiden could remedy that.

  * * * *

  Keaton flipped another waffle onto the plate and

  set the thick rubber spatula on the counter. He heard

  Aiden call, “Oh my God, it smells good in here,” as he

  bounded down the stairs. Keaton smiled, pleased—in no

  small part with himself—that they’d reached a point

  where Aiden was actually excited about breakfast. He

  started to answer, but his reply turned to a groan as

  Aiden waltzed into the kitchen wearing the tightest pants

  Keaton had ever seen.

  They were cargo-style, and the khaki fabric

  stretched taut over the curves of the boy’s buttocks.

  Aiden’s shirt was too short to cover anything.

  “What’s the matter?” Aiden asked innocently,

  walking past Keaton to the silverware drawer. He bent

  forward exaggeratedly as he retrieved a spoon, wiggling

  his ass in Keaton’s direction.

  Keaton picked up the rubber spatula, landing a

  sound smack to the center of his target. Aiden yelped

  and straightened, putting one hand behind him to rub.

  Keaton caught him and bent him over one arm. Now

  Aiden’s ass wiggled inadvertently in its attempt to get

  away. “You think you can parade in here wearing those

  and not expect to drive me wild?” Keaton growled in the

  and not expect to drive me wild?” Keaton growled in the

  boy’s ear.

  Aiden gasped and struggled. Keaton landed three

  more smacks to his ass. “Bend over the co
unter.”

  “No, please, Sir,” Aiden begged even as he

  complied, thrusting his ass out so wantonly that Keaton

  had to fight back a chuckle.

  “Oh, you’re going to get exactly what you’re asking

  for.”

  Keaton proceeded to paddle the boy’s bottom, the

  heavy spatula making a wonderful thudding sound each

  time it landed. Aiden moaned and humped the air, his

  arousal feeding Keaton’s. Aiden let out an almost

  inhuman keen as Keaton delivered two sharp swats to

  the back of each thigh, then put the spatula down. “Are

  you a naughty boy?” Keaton asked.

  “Yes,” Aiden whispered.

  “Stand up.”

  Aiden’s legs shook visibly as he did. He faced

  Keaton, and his face was so flushed, his expression so

  hungry that Keaton’s cock throbbed. Keaton unsnapped

  the boy’s pants, placing his hand against the front of his

  underwear. Aiden began to beg incoherently, rubbing

  against Keaton’s hand. With his other hand, Keaton

  squeezed the boy’s sore bottom through his pants.

  “ A h , ah!” Aiden cried, coming suddenly. He

  collapsed against Keaton, who chuckled and hugged

  him close.

  Aiden recovered after a few moments and righted

  himself. He started to snap his pants. “Uh-uh,” Keaton

  said. “What about me? Paddling that naughty bottom of

  yours made me hard.” He leaned forward and

  whispered in Aiden’s ear, “I want to fuck you.”

  Aiden shivered. “Yes,” he managed to whisper. He

  started to take his pants down.

  “No.”

  Aiden stopped.

  “I’ve decided you can fasten your fly after all. I

  want to see those pants stretched across your sore

  bottom as you stand in the corner and wait for me to fuck

  you.”

  Aiden’s eyes widened. He snapped his pants with

  trembling fingers, and Keaton sent him into a corner with

  a sound swat. For a few minutes, Keaton sat and

  appreciated the picture his boy made, standing with his

  hands behind his head, still swaying a little in the wake

  of his orgasm, his round ass displayed perfectly in the

  tight cargo pants. Keaton imagined the heat radiating

  from the paddled flesh, imagined how it would feel to

  squeeze and slap the reddened cheeks as he drove into

  Aiden. Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer and went

  to the bedroom to fetch condoms and lube.

  He returned to the kitchen and sat at the table. He

  watched the boy tense in anticipation as he listened to