Ciara had just finished a late-night baby feeding and wondered how long before her husband. Tom, at the rate they were going, would have her pregnant again. She smiled at the idea of practicing as she quickly got the used bottles in the dishwasher and took care of the dirty nappy. It was a nice quiet night. She and Tom had Churton Place to themselves as the rest of their MI-6 spy family hadn’t arrived from Cardiff and Paris. And although the London townhouse held all three sets of couples and three children quite comfortably, it was nice to know that tonight the only thing that could interrupt her naughty ideas were her 6-year-old and 4-month-old, both of whom were finally and deeply asleep. Then her tablet rang.
“Angus? Is something wrong?” she asked once his image came up.
“Nothing,” Angus said, his face sullen. He appeared to be speaking to her from some outdoor café and not the wonderful, five-star hotel room which her brother and Angus were supposed to be staying. This was a very bad sign.
She looked at the kitchen clock. “It’s got to be midnight there.” She sighed and started to put on the kettle.
“Honey!” called Tom from the living room, “aren’t you coming to bed?” Tom walked into the kitchen and saw Angus’s face on the tablet. “Oh shit, what did your brother do now?” he whispered. At one time, in the distant past, Tom had dated Deetz and knew him to be sometimes moody, obnoxious, and thoughtless. Angus was no saint either, often giving his husband too long a leash. But Tom also knew Deetz was deeply in love with Angus and their relationship, driven in part by a Druidic magical history, was critical to the safety of Western Civilization. And if anyone was going to straighten things out between those two, it was Tom’s witchy, animal whisperer wife. “I’ll take care of the tea,” he said.
She gave him a thankful grin then returned to Angus. “Start from the beginning.”
“I’m really sorry to bother.”
“Too late!” shouted Tom from the pantry.
Unfortunately, Angus heard that. “I’m really sorry. Right. I won’t bother you two.”
“Angus Mac Innes-Reese! Tell me what happened and maybe we all can get to bed.”
Angus ordered another coffee before continuing, “We met with that Foucault guy.”
“Okay?”
“Foucault started flirting with Deetz as soon as he got to the table.”
“Okay? My brother is a rather handsome man. This hasn’t happened before?”
Angus thought a moment. There were times he intentionally set Deetz around fit ladies he knew would be tantalized by his various tattoos, dark sarcasm, and positively sublime dance moves. Although most of these women were well-aware of Deetz’s matrimonial status, the deluded among the elite fag-hag set were certain their schemes would bring him around to their side of the fence. But Deetz was a master in the art of coquetry and could satisfy three women in as many rooms without touching any of them. Angus enjoyed this knowing all the time that Deetz’s dick was harnessed – under a lock and key that only Angus possessed; their games were always about control. He watched with great joy as his husband tried not to drool nor touch himself when the particularly round, bustier ones came along. And when they got home, Angus massaged the cramped cock into fine form. “He’s only flirted with women and mostly for my amusement.”
Ciara scratched her head, uncertain if that was more information than she wanted. “Go on.”
Angus took a sip of his coffee and relaxed a little more now that he knew Ciara was willing to help. “He was flirting, shamelessly.”
“Who?”
“Both of them.”
“Right,” Ciara had a clearer picture, “so let me see if I have this correct. It’s okay if Deetz flirts or fucks some slapper for your pleasure but not if he swaps banter with some bloke?”
“He rarely screws those ladies and I’m always there when he does.”
“He slept with Foucault?”
“No,” Angus admitted, “he came home wanting to have sex with me.”
An exasperated Ciara asked, “If he didn’t sleep with him, what’s the problem?”
“I dunno,” Angus groaned.
“I do,” Ciara said as Tom handed her a cup of hot tea then sat at the island counter with her. She initially gave him an ‘are you sure you wanna listen to this?’ look but it didn’t detour him. She turned back to her brother-in-law. “This sounds awfully sexist to me Angus. And, because you didn’t set it up, you’re pissed he wandered off the reservation?”
“Huh?”
Tom stuck his head in front of the tablet’s camera. “An old, rather racist American expression. It means when a heretofore compliant subordinate acts independently.”
Angus thought for a moment. “I want him all to myself, Ciara.” He took a long sip of coffee, then continued, “I can’t compete with a guy as easily as I can with a woman; at least, I think so.”
“Now that’s some dumb shit if I ever heard it,” Tom again interjected before munching on a wayward scone. “Where’s the competition? You’ve already got him! The man wears your slave collar after all.”
Ciara gave her husband a silent “hush” look, as he was not to have acknowledged that he knew this open secret. She turned back to Angus. “Stop playing games! What is this, some giant test?”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. She needed to apply a different tactic. “Angus, stop testing if my brother is dedicated to you, for I assure you he is. Stop testing if there is a better model of you around the corner, for I assure you there isn’t, not in Deetz’s eyes. And stop testing your tolerance – how much jealousy you can manage. The answer to the last question is quite clear.”
“Zero?”
“Less than,” she said before taking another sip from her cup. She continued with an old Welsh proverb, “‘Dyfal donc a dyr y garreg, tapping persistently breaks the stone’. If you keep dangling jewels, whether they come as tits or dicks, in front of my brother you can’t get upset if he eventually grabs at one. Do you wonder if he still loves you, is that the problem? If you’re enough?”
“Sometimes,” answered a sheepish Angus.
Tom rolled his eyes, “These two are ridiculous – you’d think this was high school the way they go on!” He grabbed his cup and kissed his wife on the side of her forehead before he left the room, “I’ll see you in bed at sometime.”
Angus heard that as well. “I’m sorry. I know I sound pathetic.”
Ciara wanted to confirm his analysis but thought that if she did that, she’d just be kept on the phone longer. “Angus! Focus!” She sighed and breathed out her frustration. “Listen, love, you two have been apart for months at a time in these last two years, with him studying abroad and you back here in the UK. You’ve been a real champ in supporting this dream of his. But, being apart on and off like this is bound to make anyone insecure. If you need reassurance, you need to get that from him, not me. I already know he loves you and I am certain rabbinical studies in America haven’t changed that.”
“I don’t understand all that Torah, Talmud stuff he talks about. I mean, what is with this Maimonides guy anyway?”
“Then get the man’s book, or better yet, ask Deetz to explain it. It will help him; the best way to learn is by teaching others.” Ciara finished her cup. “You’re stalling. How silly stupid was your dramatic exit?”
“On a scale of one to ten, about a twenty-five.”
She shook her head. “Right! Well, love, I wish you luck but now, I have my own relationship to attend to. Good night!”
“Wait, how do I say I’m sorry?
“Really? Nearly four years of marriage and you don’t know that yet? Do what you always do and, if I know my brother, your next steps will have nothing to do with chocolates and roses. Good night dear brother-in-law.”
His tablet’s screen went dark and he heaved a heavy sigh. Angus ran his fingers through his hair and thought about another cup of coffee only to eventually berate himself for being such a coward. He really hated it when he made a fool of himself on top of being wrong. He also knew what Ciara implied when she mentioned a straight man’s typical apology collection. If his stance as Master in this relationship was to be maintained, he would have to get creative. ‘Fortune favors the bold’ is the Latin proverb he said to himself as he pulled out his mobile and dialed Foucault’s number.
Angus rubbed the thumb of his origin hand into the palm of his artificial one as if there really was a pulse to relax there – a nervous habit that never died. He looked at the prosthesis, life-like in every way but reality. He could even get a vague thing related to a sensation when he used it due to some new biotech his company had produced. Sometimes, if he concentrated really hard, he could feel Deetz’s asshole expand and contract around it when he fingered him. Deetz said that the finger felt real, especially that vibrating fingertip part, which he called ‘dazzling’. Looking at the false hand got Angus wondering if it was the only piece of their relationship which was phony.
Their relationship hadn’t gotten out of the honeymoon phase. Every time life began to settle into some routine the average couple would label as normal, one or both of them left – Deetz to America for school, Angus to London for work at Whitehall, and then the various MI-6 missions randomly in-between. The latter were thrilling but hardly relationship building. When they did get to see one another, they had ravenous sex and chatted but Angus sensed this wasn’t what sustained or built a marriage. He’d tried to mention children to Deetz but Deetz would always brush it off with “Let’s talk about it once this school stuff is over” only to later hint at desires to attend a doctoral program.
He quickly drowned a second cup and headed back to the hotel. A crisp, wet breeze stung Angus’s cheeks and brought his irritation to his attention. He knew that Tom and the others thought he’d over-indulged Deetz, quickly forgiving slights that would have had landed other husbands on the living room couch. This was just another one of those times. But, as he thought further, Deetz never asked much if anything from him – he didn’t spend much money, even while away at school he lived off a small scholarship and the little he’d saved from his inheritance despite having access to millions at any time. There was very little in the way of property or living they shared with the exception of their bed and, once he took this thought one step further, sometimes he shared their bed with other people.
When he arrived at the hotel, he hesitated at the lobby and wondered if he should wait for the Foucaults downstairs and bring them up himself because, despite his current jealousy and concern that the relationship wasn’t maturing as it should, Angus lived to see that smile Deetz got at the tiniest gift or kind gesture from him. Angus recalled the astonishment and joy on Deetz’s face when Angus bought him a rainbow-colored friendship anklet at last year’s London Pride Event – Deetz never took it off and it nearly got him killed during a mission when one of the Neo-Nazis Deetz was trying to impress caught sight of it (Deetz had to play it off as a gift from a much younger female cousin who didn’t know of its ‘faggot implications’). “No”, Angus thought to himself, “I’m not going anywhere and neither is he but things have to change.”
When he got to the room, Angus was hell bent on having a serious conversation with Deetz before the Foucaults arrived. But when he found Deetz, his face almost angelic, easily breathing as he slept against the headboard after obviously losing a valent effort to stay awake, Angus decided to stuff his irritations and frustrations. Instead, lay down above the covers, still dressed, and texted the Foucaults ‘Nvrmind’. Then Deetz woke up and touched Angus’s back.
“Yeah, I know,” Angus said shrugging off Deetz’s entreaties, “’regrets, I’ve had a few’, just like Frank said.”
Deetz sighed then replied, “I do love you, you know.”
Angus knew that and somehow that didn’t matter. “I was just pissed that’s all. I’ll get over it.” He paused then added, “I have to work hard to get you to smile and laugh for me like that.”
Deetz felt Angus’s admission of jealousy was touching. “Yes, I do, every day as a matter-of-fact. You’re just used to it. You’ve never seen anyone else treat me that way. Just… it was nice to have someone flirt with me; I’m not going to lie. But I had no intention of going home with Foucault.”
Angus knew this too; knew that Deetz wasn’t going anywhere and that wasn’t what was bothering him. Yet he still couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong. He couldn’t figure out what was blocking this relationship they both seemed to want so deeply and were so seemingly dedicated.
“One day, neither of us will be the fit blokes we are now,” Deetz joked.
Angus heard this as Deetz’s typical way of avoiding hard conversations – dodging the elephant in the room – but this time Angus went along with it as he was unclear what the elephant looked like. “Speak for yourself, Mate. I plan to be this cute forever!” Angus continued the rest of the conversation and the subsequent preparations – including Deetz’s binding to the bed post – as if it was a Crown service at Westminster; everything predetermined by history and tradition. He readied Deetz for the guests, who he knew, through the brief phone conversation, understood the protocol. They were French sophisticates in the ‘partner swapping’ and BDSM trade. Mr. Foucault recognized Deetz’s slave necklace almost immediately and it was one of the factors that initiated his side of the flirtation. Additionally, Foucault knew that if anything was going to happen, he’d have to impress Deetz before he even starting a negotiation with Angus – another one who understood the unwritten rule that the Sub runs the relationship. This only fueled Angus’s irritation.
Angus’s harsh binding was a slight loss of control; a reflection of his internal turmoil although Deetz interpreted it as part of the game. Additionally, Angus’s lines, “I will share you with nothing or no other – not your fucking Hebrew books, not MI-6’s international games, nor someone’s moment of fancy. I will have your love, your loyalty, and your soul and I will take it if I have to… “ And Deetz ascribed the subsequent abrupt, bruising kiss as nothing more than Angus’s attempt to increase the eroticism of the moment. Deetz was even more certain of his conclusion when the Foucaults appeared.
Angus positioned himself on a high back chair across from the bed, observing these typical bisexual pornographic proceedings like Tom Colicchio on Top Chef: Masters while wishing he was the guest judge on Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen. There was no music to accompany, which highlighted the guttural grossness that Hollywood and Sundance movies typically hide behind wishful thinking or transparent dystopias. Mr. Foucault attempted to entice Angus but he refused, albeit politely. This did not raise suspicion in Deetz for Angus was rarely interested in participating but Deetz was curious as to why Angus was seemingly unaroused. In truth, after the first 3 minutes, when he realized that the Foucault’s swapping skills were merely and disappointingly pedestrian, Angus’s eyes just happened to be in the general direction of the ‘action’ while his thoughts were centered inward.
It wasn’t until Mrs. Foucault, lying on her back, offered a rather loud response to Deetz’s fucking her while he also sucked off her husband that Angus realized that the couple had untied his husband. Deetz’s body was twisted toward the man who stood half on the bed with one foot on the floor. Mr. Foucault’s head was cast down, enjoying the vision of Deetz struggling to do two things at once. But the positioning also allowed Angus to note that a key feature was absent in the scene. Deetz’s brand, his Allwedd Derw or “oak key” which, in any other circumstance would be flashing like Harrods’ at Christmas time, looked like someone forgot to pay the electricity bill. And all of a sudden, it was clear to Angus what was bothering him and what to do about it.
Once Deetz had drained the last bit of cum out of the husband and the wife had stopped shaking, Angus got up and said, “Right. The loan office is now closed.” He walked over and possessively took Deetz’s hand and directed him to get under the covers at the head of the bed. Deetz gave him an inquiring look but Angus did not respond. Angus went to the couple and added while escorting them out of the bedroom, “Please feel free to take advantage of the guest restroom facilities on the other side of the suite as well as the kitchen facilities. It is well-stocked if you care for a coffee or glass of wine before you head home.” He closed the bedroom door behind them in the middle of their attempts to offer polite but inquisitive good-byes.
“That was rather rude of you?” asked Deetz, unaccustomed to his husband being anything other than kind and sweet, even in his Dom persona.
Angus sat in front of Deetz, ignoring the man’s previous question. “I thought you told me that you’d hid your brand back in the days you were fucking around in the Orient?”
“Yeah, in the beginning, I did,” Deetz responded, “but after a while, I didn’t need to.”
“Why?”
“It stopped lighting up and the folks who I was fucking around with were usually too high or drunk to notice anyway.”
“It stopped lighting up? Why?”
“I dunno.” Deetz fumbled uncomfortably and looked around the room. “Could you get me a water?”
“No.”
Looking somewhere between insulted and hurt, Deetz tried to redirect, “Huh? Are you still mad at me? Really?”
“You didn’t light up because tonight, just like all those other times I let you fuck around, you were only one step above going on the pull. It meant nothing, did nothing for you,” Angus said. He readjusted himself; sat up a little taller, shoulders back a bit further. “I have been remiss in my duties as a husband and as your Lord, Deetz; your body told me that. I’ve let you get away with too much shit, given you too much rope and bloody near hung both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
Angus’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t need to hear me say ‘I love you’ – that’s a given between us. You need me to tell you ‘no’ and not at the times my dick is hard or in response to your juicy ass.” He paused a second and continued, “You’re right, the Sub does direct the relationship but he doesn’t control it. That’s my job and up until now, I have been derelict in my duties to you. After tonight’s antics, that shit ends. Do you understand?”
Deetz nodded, lowering his head to hide his small smile.
“Ah, that’s not loud enough,” Angus said after harshly rapping Deetz’s chest. “Run the MI-6 crap, I don’t care. You’re better at it than I am. But in this relationship, in this marriage, I’m in charge. I’ve mistaken lovingness with indulgence but not after today.”
Deetz kept his head down but Angus knew this was working as he noted the sparks flying over Deetz’s shoulder, meaning his brand was on fire. “Yes, Your Grace!”
“Now, rest ‘cause I reckon I’m going to work the hell outta that ass in the morning and in the
afternoon you’re going to help me understand what the bloody hell this Rabbi Maimonides bloke is so
perplexed about.”
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