Disciplinary Action

by Onley James

  He held the cup to the boy’s lips, relieved to hear him slurping down the beverage as it poured from the corners of his mouth. When he finished, Gideon let him slump, his body collapsing until his head rested against Gideon’s naked thigh. He reached for his phone, but the boy slapped it away with great effort. “No. Don’t. I’ll be fine. No ambulance. No money.” His eyes rolled.

  Gideon frowned. “I’ll cover your bill, little one. I won’t let you die in my bed.”

  There were a million reasons why Gideon shouldn’t call an ambulance, and almost every one of them had to do with the fact that he had a teenage prostitute in his bed. He didn’t even know the kid’s name. This was the kind of scandal that ruined people in his profession, but he didn’t love his job enough to watch the boy die. “You need help.”

  The boy glanced up at Gideon with huge eyes. “Please, don’t. Just give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be better. I promise,” he swore, voice weak.

  The boy’s teeth had stopped clacking, and he no longer shivered. But he was pale beneath his tan, his skin clammy. “Ten,” Gideon countered.

  “Fine. Ten,” the boy managed.

  As the minutes ticked by, Gideon combed his fingers through the boy’s chestnut colored waves, his head cradled in Gideon’s lap, his breathing evening out a bit at a time. He was beautiful. His eyes were a mossy green, almost yellow at the center, and he had impeccable bone structure, like a sculptor had carved him from stone. He looked young. Earlier, he’d pegged him at around twenty-one, but now, he seemed much younger. If he worked for Hillary, he was at least eighteen, but that was a small comfort now that he’d made the boy ill.

  The boy. He couldn’t keep calling him that. “What’s your name, little bird?”

  “Cal,” he managed, forcing his lids open enough to look at him.

  Gideon wondered if that was truly his name or if he’d remembered the false identity he’d created for himself. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Better.”

  Relief flooded Gideon. “Good.”

  He gently transferred Cal to the mattress and rose once more, returning five minutes later with a peanut butter sandwich. The boy pulled himself into a sitting position, eyes lighting up at the food. He made a grab for the sandwich, but Gideon held the plate out of reach. “No peanut allergies, right? I’d hate to save you from slipping into a diabetic coma only to have you die of anaphylaxis.”

  “No food allergies of any kind,” Cal promised, snatching the sandwich from the plate and scarfing it down in three bites. Once he finished, he sat back with a satisfied sigh, handing the plate back to Gideon. “This is a really nice place,” he said. “What do you do?” His eyes went wide. “Am… Am I allowed to ask you that?”

  Gideon smiled. “Yes, you’re allowed. I’m a professor of childhood and adolescent development.”

  Cal looked him up and down. “So, not saving Gotham City from evil?”

  Gideon laughed. “I’m afraid not.”

  Cal glanced around at the furnishings. “Being a professor must pay well.”

  Gideon arched a brow. “Maybe I come from money.”

  Cal scoffed. “Not with those hands.”

  Gideon frowned, looking at his calloused hands. The boy was right. He’d worked his way through high school doing construction just so he could afford community college. He would have had to work all the way through college and grad school if he hadn’t met Grant. He shook the thought away. “You don’t like my hands?”

  Cal blushed. “I didn’t say that. I just meant those are the hands of somebody who worked for a living. Rich people don’t work with their hands, not like that.”

  The kid was right. “Know a lot about rich people, do you?” he asked, tone conversational.

  Cal sighed. “More than you could ever know.”

  It was clear the boy came from money…or had. The tailored clothing, the expensive haircut, well past its last needed trim. Perhaps his family had disowned him for being gay. Or maybe they’d just fallen on hard times like many American families. Gideon didn’t know the boy’s circumstances, but it was clear he was far from where he’d started. He had that look that street kids had, hunted and hungry. Gideon remembered it well. But it wasn’t wise to get too familiar with any of these boys. That was how feelings became involved, and Gideon had walled that part of himself off years ago.

  “All better?” Gideon asked instead.

  “What? Oh, yeah. I can get going. I’m fine now.”

  The boy started to rise, turning as if to hide the dejected look on his face, but Gideon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not why I asked. Get back here.” Cal stopped moving but stayed seated on the edge of the bed like he might flee at any moment. “Lie down.”

  The boy’s brows knitted together. “Why?” he asked, his suspicious tone pulling a chuckle from Gideon.

  “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

  A shadow fell across the boy’s face. “I don’t know if I can handle anymore punishments,” he hedged.

  “No more punishments, little bird. Just company.”

  Gideon laid on his back, his arm out, hoping the boy understood. He seemed to come to some internal decision before sliding back, lying down beside Gideon, his head resting in the crook of his arm. He was as still as a statue. Gideon turned just enough to slide a finger down the center of Cal’s chest.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Gideon met his gaze. “Touching you.”

  “Oh.”

  Gideon ran his palm along the boy’s belly before teasing his fingers along his ribs, swiping over one nipple and then the other. There was no intent. He wasn’t looking for anything more. He just liked the way the boy’s head fell back, lips parted, eyelids at half-mast, like he reveled in just being touched.

  Skin starved.

  It was a term used to explain the biological effects of being denied physical comfort. Cal was skin starved. But just like earlier, with each sweep of Gideon’s hand, with every caress, the tension melted away.

  Cal’s response had Gideon’s cock at attention, pressed against the boy’s thigh, but Gideon ignored it. Cal did not. He wrapped his palm around Gideon’s length, stroking him hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure it was okay. Gideon smiled down at him, pushing that one stubborn lock of hair from the boy’s eyes. “Did I give you permission to touch me, little bird?”

  “Can I, Daddy?” he asked, swiping his thumb across the tip of Gideon’s cock.

  “It certainly appears that way,” Gideon countered. “But what do you intend to do with it?”

  The boy rose onto his knees before turning himself so that Gideon’s cock was close enough to feel the boy’s breath. “Can I, Daddy?” he asked again.

  “Yes.”

  Cal ran his tongue along the underside of Gideon’s cock like a boy licking an ice cream cone, closing his lips over the head and sucking noisily. Gideon groaned as Cal’s head bobbed, his hand closing over the base of Gideon’s cock, holding him steady.

  “Fuck. Yes, that’s a good boy. Can you take more?”

  Cal dipped his head, forcing Gideon’s cock to the back of his throat before gagging and pulling back, spittle on his lips and chin. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You just need practice. Just go slow and breathe through your nose.”

  The look of concentration on the boy’s face had Gideon stifling a smile. He looked like he was attempting to understand quantum physics. Once more, the boy’s lips sealed over Gideon’s erection, taking him deeper with each dip of his head, his hand keeping time with his mouth.

  “That’s it. That’s it, baby. A little more. Shit, that’s it. You’re doing so well. So good. So good for me,” he praised more for the boy’s benefit than his own. It was clear somebody had starved Cal of much more than just touch.

  Gideon bent his knees, his hand tangling in Cal’s hair, holding him still so he could fuck into the boy’s mouth with short, shallow thrusts. Cal made a whiny noise
that vibrated all the way to Gideon’s balls. Fuck. The boy really was made for this. Gideon couldn’t remember ever having been with anybody so responsive. He imagined all the things he could teach Cal, the ways he could use his body, teach him the power of submitting. He let go of Cal’s hair, warning him. “I’m close.”

  Cal’s look of determination almost made Gideon smile. The boy gripped his thighs, sucking harder, working him faster, until Gideon tipped over the edge for a second time, his hips moving in tiny aborted thrusts as he came down Cal’s throat. The boy swallowed it all, every drop, looking so proud of his accomplishment.

  When he pulled off, he collapsed next to Gideon with a smile, side-eyeing him as if he wasn’t sure he did well. Gideon couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him, the taste of his seed still clinging to the boy’s lips and tongue. “Be careful, little bird.”

  “Too much teeth?” Cal asked, flushing.

  “No, but you shouldn’t be doing that without a condom either. I’m negative but you didn’t know that. Just in case you explore with anybody else.”

  The boy’s mood soured. “I won’t be doing this with anybody else.”

  “No?” Gideon asked, more confused than ever. “No more working for Hillary?”

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

  “Oh, I’d say you’re quite suited for this but perhaps not for money. You’re very young. Do you not have a family? Friends who could help you?”

  “It was my friend who got me this job. But I doubt every client will be like you.”

  Gideon placed his hand on the boy’s chest. “Like me?”

  “Yeah. Hot, rich, hung, sweet,” Cal said, looking anywhere but at Gideon.

  Gideon chuckled. “You forgot old, crotchety, and set in my ways.”

  “You aren’t that old. I’m pretty sure you’re still younger than my father.”

  “Where is your father?” Gideon pressed, not sure why he was still asking questions.

  There was no room in his life for a boy like Cal no matter how beautiful or eager to please he seemed. Gideon couldn’t be that person for him. He couldn’t be his Grant. He had a hard enough time just being Gideon.

  “Last I heard, Club Fed.”

  Gideon’s brows ran toward his hairline. “Your father’s doing time in prison? Let me guess…tax evasion?”

  The boy gave a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”

  Cal scooted closer, his lower lip trapped between his teeth like he expected Gideon to chastise him. He was like a stray puppy just waiting for somebody to beat him or kick him out into the rain. It was getting late…or early, depending on how one looked at it. He’d asked all his other...dates…to go long before now, but he just wasn’t ready to end this. Not yet. “Are you hungry?”

  Cal snorted. “I’m nineteen. I’m always hungry.”

  Something occurred to Gideon then. “Do you have your insulin with you?”

  Once more, the boy’s gaze slid away from him. “At my apartment. It’s fine. I’ll check as soon as I’m home and dose then.”

  The boy was lying, but Gideon let it go. He went to the fridge and paused. “How do you feel about day-old Chinese food?”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “Can you use chopsticks,” Gideon enquired.

  “Duh,” Cal muttered.

  Gideon returned to the bed, handing a pair of black lacquered chopsticks to the boy before twisting his hand in his hair and tugging his head back. “What was that, brat?”

  Cal swallowed hard, but there was a sparkle in those moss green eyes when he said, “Duh…Daddy?”

  Gideon laughed. “That’s better.”

  A large carton of vegetable lo mein from the restaurant across the street was all Gideon had left. He tilted the container towards Cal. The boy glanced up from under those long dark lashes, like he thought it was a trick. Gideon rolled his eyes and dipped his chopsticks into the container, pulling free the noodles and holding them in the air. “Open up, little bird.”

  Cal flushed but did as Gideon commanded, laughing as a noodle attempted to escape before he slurped it into his mouth and chewed. Once he swallowed, Gideon tilted the carton towards the boy again, and this time, he captured the noodles and vegetables. He didn’t eat them but offered them to Gideon. “Open up, Daddy.”

  Gideon’s heart seemed to fall offline, but he did as Cal asked, taking what he offered. They spent the next twenty minutes feeding each other bits of noodles until they finished the container. Cal flopped back onto the bed, rubbing his now protruding belly. “I have a food baby,” he exclaimed before seeming to remember himself.

  Gideon set the carton on the table and rolled onto his stomach, kissing Cal’s belly. “Still sexy.”

  The boy giggled, and Gideon couldn’t help but grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so comfortable around another person. He had never sat around eating cold noodles naked with anybody, not even Grant. He pressed his ear to the boy’s belly. “I think I felt it kick.”

  “Ugh, if you keep pressing on it, I’m gonna puke,” Cal promised.

  Gideon rolled a bit until his head rested on the boy’s thigh. Cal pushed his fingers through Gideon’s hair, looking down at him like he was trying to memorize his face.

  “Take a bath with me?”

  Gideon wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the request. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was having fun, and he wasn’t ready for it to end.

  “Okay, but you’re gonna have to carry me.” Gideon rolled to his feet and scooped the boy up into his arms in a bridal carry. “I was kidding. You’ll throw out your back, old man,” Cal cackled.

  “Oh, yeah?” Gideon said, shifting the boy until he hung over his shoulder, swatting his abused bottom with just enough force to cause the boy to yelp. “That’s what you get for being a smart mouth.”

  The boy groaned. “You’re going to kill our food baby.”

  Gideon shook his head, unable to contain his smile. He set Cal on his feet once they passed through the door to the bathroom and went about grabbing what they needed.

  Cal gaped at the enormous tub. “That seems excessive. Is this where you have all of your orgies?” he asked.

  “Not all of them,” Gideon snarked, earning an eye roll from the boy. He was definitely still a teenager.

  Once there was a reasonable amount of water in the tub, he stepped inside and sat, crooking his finger towards Cal. “Come on, little bird.”

  Cal reached up toward the collar but stopped, looking uncertain. “Do I take it off?”

  “Come, I’ll do it.”

  The boy stepped over the lip of the tub, turning away from Gideon before seating himself between his thighs and pulling his own knees up to his chest.

  “It’s a little late to be shy now, isn’t it?” Gideon asked, unbuckling the collar from his neck and setting it on the side of the tub. Cal rubbed at his throat but said nothing, leaning back against Gideon’s chest. He soaped up a washcloth and began to scrub the boy’s chest and belly. “How are you feeling? Do you still hurt?”

  Cal shook his head no but then seemed to rethink his answer. “Well, yeah, but not in a bad way. Like in a way where I’ll be thinking about what we did every time I sit down tomorrow.”

  Gideon dropped the cloth, his hands dipping beneath the water to wrap around the boy’s soft cock, stroking him. “Do you like that thought, baby boy?”

  Cal sucked in a ragged breath, his head tipping back against Gideon’s shoulder, his legs widening. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Gideon’s lips skimmed along his neck and shoulder. “Are you going to think of me every time you touch yourself? Going to think of riding my cock in your collar, being a good boy just for me?”

  The boy whimpered, nodding. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “You were so good for me tonight. Good boys get rewarded. Do you want me to reward you, baby?”

  Cal’s breath came in pants, his hands gripping Gideon’s thighs tight enough to leave bruise
s. “Yes, Daddy. Please.”

  Gideon didn’t edge the boy, just used the soap to slick up his hand and let him fuck into his tightened fist. He was so honest, so responsive, he held nothing back. Gideon wanted to capture every whimper, every half-bitten moan falling from his lips as he worked his hips. “Oh, Daddy… Daddy. Oh, God. Oh, fuck.”

  Gideon bit down on the boy’s ear lobe. “Come for me, little bird. I want to hear you.”

  Four more strokes and the boy’s hips spasmed, and he cried out before falling back against Gideon’s shoulder, chest heaving. “Wow.”

  “Wow, indeed,” Gideon said against his ear.

  Gideon finished washing Cal before turning off the water and just floating there, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the boy pressed against him.

  “Gideon?”

  “Yeah?” he asked, cracking his lids open to see the boy’s head tipped up enough to look at him.

  “What happened to your back?”

  Cal was the first boy he’d hired who had ever dared ask. Maybe he was the only one who had ever cared enough to inquire, or maybe the others thought it rude. He didn’t like to talk about it and certainly not with a stranger, but he felt like they’d moved past being strangers hours ago. “When I was your age, I let somebody convince me that love had to hurt, and that love meant not respecting limits.”

  “Hard limits?” Cal asked.

  Gideon smiled, pressing his lips to the boy’s cheek. “Yes, exactly. Hard limits. Safe words. I knew nothing back then, and I put my trust in the wrong person.”

  “You… Somebody did that to you?” Cal asked.

  “Yes.”

  Cal caressed Gideon’s thighs in a soothing gesture. “Are they in jail?”

  “No. I didn’t think I could report him. I’d consented to some of it, just not…all of it. Like I said, it was years ago, and I was very young. I believed him when he said he just got excited and went too far, when he said he knew what I could handle.”

  “What a creep,” Cal said, the hostility in his voice making Gideon smile.

  “It seems like a lifetime ago,” Gideon promised, pressing a kiss to the top of Cal’s head.

  The boy scoffed like the answer didn’t satisfy his anger, but then he was moving on. “Is that why you’re a… What do they call somebody like you? Who likes to be called Daddy?”