by Joey W. Hill
"When I was hanging onto Gen, hoping the car would stop rocking... When I was pushing you up through the window, I kept having this one thought. If I lost you both, there was no one I'd ever again have in my life like you. No one who felt about me...the way the two of you do. Separately, together."
His brow furrowed. "It took me awhile to figure it all out, Mistress. It was hard."
Gen saw the expression she'd been trying to decipher since the day she'd lambasted Lyda for being such a difficult patient. It was the shadow of his soul, struggling behind that wall inside him, a wall he'd been beating himself against, trying to break through it, figure it out, despite the fact it was against his nature, finding a different path through those dark woods.
"But then, there was this one thing," he said. "Something I couldn't stop thinking, no matter how much I felt like I didn't deserve to think it. I wanted you both. More than I'd ever wanted anything."
He took a deep breath. "Since as long as I can remember, there's always been this place inside myself. Everything point A to point B, no curves, no confusion. No pain. Not really."
Safe. Like Gen's life had been. Every step planned so there'd be no mistakes, no risks. She expected it was why she'd felt an unconscious connection to Noah from the beginning, though she hadn't recognized that link until now. She wanted to step toward him, but held herself back. He wasn't done, his gaze still locked on the judge hearing his case.
"It was a prison," he said. "I didn't control anything that came in, and I couldn't let anything out. I took that choice away from myself because it felt...the way it should be. Or so I thought. But until you and Gen became something different than what I'd known, I didn't realize that belonging to anyone who wanted me, for however long they wanted me, but never having anyone I felt like was mine...it was lonely."
His voice broke, became a little thicker. His gaze dropped to the floor and Gen saw his eyes get a little brighter as well. "I was never enough for..."
Even now, he couldn't say it, the source of that mindless rage and pain. Lyda had suspected it had been the welding on those crossed wires. When the agony fair vibrated from him, Gen knew why Dot had threatened homicide toward her own blood.
"Who I was, it wasn't enough," he said quietly, giving up on naming the faceless offenders. "So it made sense, to accept not having value, not demanding anything for myself. You know?"
Gen's throat was aching, tears threatening, a state exacerbated by seeing the change in Lyda's gaze. Those silver eyes were becoming brighter, more focused, the result of a sheen of tears.
"You are enough for us, Noah," Lyda said. Her voice was strong, harsh. As painful as the grateful, overwhelmed look he threw at her. Believing it. But he had more to say.
"If I lost the two of you, I wouldn't be able to handle the loneliness again. You and Gen, you understand who and what I am, accepted it, but asked for more from me. You asked me to choose for myself. To give that choice, who I am, value."
Lyda pressed her lips together, gave one short nod. A tear spilled down her cheek, a glistening, diamond track. "He can be taught," she said, her voice husky. Gen thought she would have brought him to her then, but instead, their Mistress had another demand. "You owe Gen an apology."
He looked toward Gen, raw sincerity etched on his face. "I'm so sorry, Gen. Sorry for making you think that you were going to lose me. I...it felt like I had to take care of Elias, finish that the way it should be finished. But I wish you hadn't had to feel that way, to doubt me, not even for a minute."
Gen bit back a sob, making his eyes darken. He stood there, hands opening and closing helplessly. There'd been plenty of times when he'd initiated contact, for comfort or sex, but she knew now he was waiting on their judgment.
She shifted her gaze to Lyda. That judgment lay in Lyda's hands. Gen and Noah would make their amends a different way, a different time. At the moment, she was just so overwhelmed by the possibilities finally, truly unfolding, she was speechless and immobile, a fly on the wall.
"Come here," Lyda said at last. Noah's gaze turned to her, finding her full attention on him. And her arms lifted and open.
The emotions gripping him were so strong, their usually graceful man stumbled, but he made it to her chair. He sank down on his knees beside it as Lyda wrapped her arm around his shoulders, gripped his T-shirt in both hands. He pressed his face hard into her shoulder, but then she brought his face up, put a kiss on his lips that she made hot, hard and needy. Coming up off his knees, he put his hands to her waist, thumbs pressed hard beneath her breasts as he answered the kiss with everything he could give her.
Watching them, Gen ached down to her soul. Still kissing him, Lyda reached out a hand, and Noah did it in the same moment. Gen was across the kitchen in a blink, kneeling on Lyda's other side.
Their Mistress gathered them both to her, held them close. They exchanged kisses until three mouths were tasting one another, exchanging the sweet taste of wine, cherry pie and promises.
Epilogue
"You know, you've just ensured Marcus is going to keep Josh chained to his side whenever he's at a party where there are Dommes. Greedy Dommes."
At Lyda's look, Gen lifted her hands. "I'm just saying what Marcus said."
"It's not like I wheedled a life-sized statue out of him." Lyda rolled her eyes. "It's going to be a small, eight-inch original, and I'm still paying fifty percent of the asking price, which is exorbitant."
"Yeah, because paying fifty percent for a Van Gogh wouldn't be considered outright robbery," Noah put in. "Again, a quote. Heavy on the sarcasm."
"Insanely handsome gay men tend to be melodramatic," Lyda said, giving him a narrow look. "And vicious."
"I'd tell him you said that," Gen responded, "but I think he's already considering murdering you. At this party. There's plenty of property to bury your body."
"And we're right alongside a tributary that flows out to the Gulf," Noah added.
She and Lyda were strolling arm and arm through Tyler's gardens, Noah trailing after them. It was a short predinner break after spending the last few hours enjoying the casual party of visiting friends. Gen had been a little surprised Lyda had accepted the invitation, since they were in the middle of the pre-Christmas rush that had even cut into their Sundays, but Lyda had said they all deserved a day off.
Wonderful hors d'oeuvres, the company of good friends... Brendan and Chloe were here, as well as Tyler and Marguerite, Violet and Mac. Tyler and Marguerite's visiting friends were Josh, Lauren, Marcus and Thomas. A few weeks ago, feeling guilty, Gen had admitted her slip of the tongue to Marguerite, as well as Lyda's interest in Josh's art, which made her wonder if that was why they'd been invited. For her own part, she had a delicious premonition about why she was now being included in this circle.
It was clear, from the dynamics casually demonstrated during lunch and in the relaxing aftermath, that all the people present had Dominant/submissive relationships and were cognizant of that common bond in the guest list. Even though Chloe had already brought her into the know on what the power distributions were, Gen found she could now tell Dom from sub herself, from those little touches, the way the submissives deferred to their Masters or Mistresses in entirely unique yet somehow similar mannerisms. Like her and Noah to Lyda.
She and Noah mixed and mingled, enjoyed conversations, yet there was always that thread of awareness connecting them to their Mistress. What she needed or wanted from them at any given moment. In this environment, that feeling was heightened, to a point that sexual arousal simmered between them, making them all anticipate getting into the guestroom Tyler had offered them tonight. Or maybe those things would happen earlier, in a less private setting, another unsettling thought.
As the group became more comfortable with one another, she'd seen touches becoming more intimate--and more obvious to everyone else. Conversations started to be laced with murmured commands that were anything but casual. Humorous innuendoes had serious undercurrents. The Doms were feeding
off one another's energy, and it was fueling the submissives as well.
"So where do you think this is going?" She confronted it head-on with Noah, albeit in a low voice, as they returned to the group and Lyda left them to talk to Marguerite.
He slid an arm around her and, confirming her feeling about what was happening, the hand that would have curved around her waist an hour ago was much lower now, stroking her hip, her buttock. She pressed against him, lifted up to tease his throat with her lips. "Did she tell you to do this?"
"Not directly." His brown gaze caressed her, making her blood run even warmer, as if he was a fire heating it. "But I'm getting the distinct impression all the Doms are on the same track. Tyler has a dungeon, you know. With top-grade equipment."
Gen felt her eyes widen. "Would Lyda..." At Noah's look, she swallowed. Hard.
All she could think of were the possible uses of that equipment, the things she might see. The scenery alone... Her gaze slid over all of the assembled submissives. Noah, Mac, Josh, Brendan, Thomas. Holy God.
"You could pretend that seeing them all naked appalls you." Noah gave her an aggrieved look, though she saw the humor behind it, and his anticipation as well. Sliding her arms around his waist, she stroked the firm landscape of his abdomen through his shirt.
"I'll imagine what Lyda might let me do to you," she whispered.
Cocking his head, he swept his gaze meaningfully over her throat and breasts, making it clear which submissive he was most interested in seeing naked. She flushed. "Or let you do to me," she allowed, clearing her throat.
A more distinct and imperious cleared throat drew their attention. Lyda was giving them a look, brow raised. Gen lifted both hands clear of Noah in an exaggerated "I wasn't doing anything" gesture that had their Mistress's lips quirking.
"There will be time enough for that," she promised.
Everything tightened up in Gen except her weak knees as Lyda spoke clear enough that everyone at the party could hear. It was tantamount to an open declaration of where they might be headed...publicly.
Lyda's gaze shifted to the assembled, who'd taken seats around the patio where they were sharing afternoon cocktails. With Noah and Gen the only ones now standing in her proximity, Gen realized it felt like they'd stepped onto a stage.
"When Marguerite invited me to this event today," Lyda said, "it was because I told her I was seeking the right time and place to do something I've wanted to do for several months now. She suggested this, and I agreed."
Giving Noah and Gen a significant look, she sat down in a patio chair. She pointed to the space directly in front of her. "Come here," she said.
Even knowing Chloe, Marguerite and Tyler were part of the audience, Gen felt no self-consciousness, which said a good deal about how far she'd come in this journey and her trust of Lyda. She remembered those words...if I ask for your submission in public, it's because you can trust me to keep you safe... Now she understood that meant safe physically and emotionally. Safe from humiliation or the wrong kinds of pain.
As such, Gen led herself and Noah to Lyda, taking the lead in them both kneeling before her. Gen was aware of Chloe's intent regard to her immediate left, her friend clasping Brendan's hand as if anticipating something quite wonderful. Butterflies fluttered in Gen's stomach.
Lyda touched Gen's face, caressed Noah's shoulder. "I'm not the nurturing sort. Nor especially sentimental. But once I make a decision, I don't turn back from it, do I?"
They shook their heads. In the corner of her other eye, Gen saw Marcus, his arm stretched behind Thomas. Thomas had leaned forward, but his knee was pressed against Marcus', evidence of that connection between them. Mac stood behind Violet's chair, watching, the large male just as attentive. One more shift of her glance and there was Josh. As always, the artist looked sleepy and somewhat distracted, but right now those gray eyes behind their wire-rimmed glasses were unusually keen. He was sitting on the grass next to the edge of the patio, where Lauren sat in a chair, her legs crossed. He had his hand loosely wrapped around her calf, a possessive gesture that didn't negate the dynamic of Mistress and sub that existed between them. Now that she understood more about those possessive feelings herself, it made sense to her.
She brought her gaze back to Lyda. Behind her stood Tyler and Marguerite. Marguerite sat on a padded bench to Lyda's right, and Tyler stood at her back, his hand resting on her shoulder. Gen noticed how his thumb caressed the base of her throat, the seed pearl choker. Marguerite met her gaze, those pale-blue eyes luminous.
Bringing her full attention back to Lyda, Gen found her Mistress waiting on her. Lyda's expression wasn't impatient or offended. It was as if she wanted Noah and Gen to understand the solemnity of the occasion by absorbing the others' reactions.
"I made a decision, right before you made yours, Noah." Lyda met his gaze. "It's a good thing you went down the right path with Elias, else I would have been wasting my money. And you know how I feel about that."
"Yes Mistress," he ventured. He was obviously as unsure what this was about as Gen, but when Gen's hand crept into his at her side again, he clasped it.
Marguerite drew a small velvet bag from under the cushion next to her, placing it in Lyda's palm when she turned to her. "I'm not much for collaring. And I told you I don't really have a use for marriage. Do you remember?" Lyda's gaze shifted to Gen.
Gen nodded. "I believe in action, not words," Lyda continued. "I don't even particularly believe in symbols, but when presenting a symbol is an act that says a million things words can't...well, that's different."
Gen drew in a breath as Lyda opened the small bag and deposited the contents into her hand. It was a trio of rings. One delicate silver, one a handsome gold, and one a twisted band of both, the thinner silver like a vine weaving around the thick gold. The mixed band and the silver were obviously women's rings, the gold a man's ring.
Lyda met Gen's gaze, shifted between it and Noah's. "By taking them, wearing them, we're promised to each other. Faithful through thick and thin, through car wrecks and laundry, cancer and even poor movie selections."
A ripple of laughter came from around them, but Gen was staring into Lyda's eyes. Despite the wry comment, her eyes were serious, intent, the whole world there. Noah's fingers tightened on hers, hard.
"It means you belong to me, and I will care for you. It means I love you both more than anything. It means I'm in love with you, and I want that love to keep growing until we're as twisted together as the band I'll wear, showing that this promise is made to you both. You're under no obligation to take the rings--"
She and Noah reached for them in one motion. Lyda's hand closed over them, preventing the retrieval, but the smile transformed her face as another murmur ran through the group, reflecting the pleasure and approval in Lyda's eyes. Gen also saw the swell of emotion at their quick response. Following impulse, she kept her hand resting on Lyda's closed one. Noah's overlapped them both, his longer fingers closing over Gen's, fingertips brushing the sides of Lyda's hand.
It was Noah who spoke for them both.
"There's nothing we want more than to belong to you and you alone, Mistress. We love you too." The desire and love in his eyes was unmistakable. "And in truth...I see myself as belonging to you both."
Gen touched his face. "Same goes." She shifted her gaze to Lyda. "We're all yours, Mistress. And, if it's not too presumptuous, we feel like you're ours."
"Doesn't matter if it's presumptuous or not, it's always the way it seems to work." The wry comment came from Violet, echoed by a snort from Marcus.
Lyda looked between her two subs, then nodded to Gen, an unspoken command. Gen withdrew her hand and Lyda opened her fingers. Her Mistress picked up the delicate silver ring, putting the other two to the side for the moment. When she took Gen's hand, slid the band onto her left finger, she met Gen's gaze. "Mine, rabbit."
Then she leaned forward, kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. The lingering kiss was followed by a look that said I-mean-
it on every level. Gen couldn't say anything, her throat closed with emotion.
Lyda picked up the gold band. As she and Noah locked gazes, Gen felt that thickness grow to a sweet ache. While her and Lyda's story had had its ups and downs, this possibility had been far more precarious for Lyda and Noah. Those fears were now gone, no foothold to find when Noah was staring at Lyda as if she was everything.
Lyda pushed the ring over his knuckle. As she did, he turned his hand, captured hers in a very unlike Noah aggressive move...if one didn't know the depth and strength of certain emotions he carried. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, his body bending toward her until his head touched her knees. She doubled over him, tangling her hand in his hair, pressing her lips against his nape, rubbing her cheek there.
"Don't you ever forget," she whispered. Gen glimpsed Lyda's face in a rare, entirely unguarded moment. "Don't break my heart."
When he lifted his head, his expression was raw devotion. "Never. I'll take care of both of you, Mistress. Through everything and anything."
He'd said it before, or things like it, but now it meant even more than before. Gen realized he'd picked up the final band when he bent over Lyda's hand. He looked at Gen. In accord, she supported Lyda's hand as Noah slipped the ring on their Mistress's finger. Then their newly decorated hands were tangled together, a hard knot that conveyed a lot of emotion, including tears, as Noah surged up on his knees and hugged both her and Lyda. He rained kisses on their mouths and necks, kisses they returned as best they could while laughing, since Lyda threatened dire things if he didn't stop slobbering over the two of them like a golden retriever. Lyda's laughter was as welcome to Gen's ears as a spring rain on new flowers.
The popping of a cork brought them back to the present surroundings. Champagne had been brought by Tyler's housekeeper, Sarah, and flutes were being filled, distributed by Brendan. He bent and gave Gen a kiss on the cheek, Noah a quick, hard hug. Chloe drew Gen up for a hug as well.
