By His Rules (34 page)

Keaton resumed the spanking. Aiden tried to block

out the memories of last night, but they came too fast—

the rejection from Irvine, his brattiness at dinner, the way

he’d talked to Keaton in the bathroom. The feeling of

desperate energy that had propelled him to Obey, the

desolation and hopelessness he’d felt as Scott dragged

him into the house… He wriggled slightly, trying to get

Keaton’s palm to stop smacking his sit spots. Keaton’s

arm was secure around him, holding him in place. With

a sigh, he surrendered, sagging across Keaton’s lap while

Keaton continued to blister his butt.

Finally Keaton stopped.
Is that it
? Aiden wondered,

half-hopeful, half-disappointed. His butt was on fire; he

wouldn’t be able to take much more without breaking

down. At the same time, he didn’t feel the punishment

was at all proportional to the transgression. He deserved

much, much worse.

“Pick up that list,” Keaton said. Aiden grabbed the

list, pulling it toward him. He tried to twist and hand it

to Keaton, but Keaton said, “Read me the first item on

there.”

Aiden placed the list in front of him and supported

himself on his elbows so he could see it. He gulped,

trying to get his voice under control, and read, “‘I got

rejected from UC Irvine. It made me feel like a loser, like

I’d never be good enough to be an actor. Like I’d be stuck

forever making pizza.’”

“Why did it make you feel that way?”

“I don’t know. I was just being stupid.”

Keaton smacked Aiden’s butt so hard that Aiden

reared up.

“Jesus!”

“That is the last time you’ll use that word to

describe yourself. Understood?”

“Yeah.” Aiden squirmed, trying to lessen the sting.

“Tell me why the rejection made you feel like a

loser.”

Keaton made him talk through what he’d written,

made Aiden tell him why he wanted a graduate degree,

what he liked about Irvine in particular, and why the

school’s decision made him question his own abilities as

an actor and as a student. At first Aiden felt

uncomfortable having this conversation facedown over

Keaton’s lap, but after a few minutes he relaxed,

answering Keaton’s questions as honestly and

thoroughly as he could.

Keaton mostly listened but offered some input and

reassurance, and by the time they’d exhausted the topic,

Aiden felt much less discouraged about the rejection.

When they were done, Keaton lifted his hand and

delivered a hard swat across the center of both of Aiden’s

cheeks.

They went through all twenty-three items on the list

this way. When they completed each item, Keaton gave

him a single, full-force swat in exactly the same place.

Aiden reached a point where he could no longer take the

swats quietly, kicking, yelping, and eventually begging

with each one. There was plenty of time between each to

recover, but the accumulated soreness made each new

layer of pain almost unbearable.

When they finished the list, Aiden’s voice was

hoarse from talking. He’d been crying for about the last

twenty minutes, but he didn’t feel embarrassed. Keaton

hadn’t rushed him, letting him speak at his own pace,

waiting for him to get control of himself and his thoughts

before asking him to continue. The final swat was every

bit as hard as the first, and after it Keaton completed

three more circuits of spanks across the entirety of

Aiden’s bottom, until Aiden couldn’t hear anything

above the sound of his own choked sobs or feel anything

besides the scalding pain in his butt.

Keaton rubbed the sore flesh, kneading the sharp

sting into a more manageable ache. He moved his hand

to Aiden’s lower back, rubbing while Aiden lay across

his lap, too exhausted to continue crying. They stayed

like that a long time before Aiden had the energy to

struggle up and throw his arms around Keaton.

“Good boy,” Keaton murmured. “That’s right,

you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“I love you,” Aiden said. He caught sight of

Keaton’s palm. It was as red and swollen as Aiden

imagined his butt must be. He took it in his own hands

and kissed it.

Keaton stroked Aiden’s face, letting him feel the

heat from his palm. “I love you too.”

Aiden curled against Keaton, holding tight. He was

never, never going to let this man go.

* * * *

Aiden was at the table writing lines. He set Aiden’s

phone down in front of him. “You have a new voice

mail,” Keaton said. “I listened to it when I checked your

texts last night, just in case it offered some clue as to

your whereabouts.”

Aiden looked at him. “Who’s it from?”

“You should listen.”

Aiden picked up the phone and dialed his mailbox.

One saved message. A familiar voice introduced itself as

the director of Case Western’s MFA program in Theater

Arts and congratulated Aiden on being offered a spot in

the incoming class. Aiden barely heard the rest of the

message, which asked Aiden to return the call at some

point with any questions he needed answered before he

decided whether or not to accept the offer. Aiden put

down the phone and stared at Keaton.

“You heard this?”

“I did.”

Aiden stood up and flung himself at Keaton,

socking the man squarely—though admittedly not very

hard—in the chest. “And you didn’t tell me? You didn’t

think maybe that was something I’d want to know? You

let me ramble on in there about Irvine and what a loser I

was, and you
knew
Case had accepted me?”

“I wanted to make sure your opinion of yourself

didn’t hinge on whether or not a school had accepted

you.”

“Bullshit! You just wanted me to feel bad because

you were pissed at me.”

Keaton took him firmly by the shoulders. “You

know that’s not true.”

“You knew since
last night
!”

“I’m sorry I kept it from you. And if you’d asked

me for your phone anytime between then and now, I’d

have given it to you. I am so, so incredibly proud of you.

But I would be even if you hadn’t gotten into Case. And I

want to know that you’d be proud of yourself either way

too.”

“You jerk,” Aiden muttered, giving Keaton another

halfhearted bump on the chest. Then he put his hands on

Keaton’s shoulders and leaped, wrapping his legs

around Keaton’s middle. Keaton groaned and held him

up, laughing. “You asshole. You total bastard.” Aiden

nipped the side of Keaton’s neck.

Keaton gave him a light swat on the butt.

“Ow.” Aiden slid to the ground.

“I might be all of those things,” Keaton said. “But

you’re an MFA candidate.”

Aiden grinned. “I am.”

“You’re going to accept their offer?”

“Um, let me think for a minute—yeah.”

“Cleveland,” Keaton said slowly. “I think I could

adapt to big-city life.”

“What do you mean?” Aiden demanded.

“I called my friend at Cleveland State last week.

They’re still looking for a studio arts professor. The pay

is modest, but I’m a modest man.”

“Yeah, right.” Aiden couldn’t keep the smile off his

face. Was Keaton really saying what Aiden thought he

was saying?

“Plus there are venues in Cleveland that might be

more amenable to some of my abstract pieces than the

galleries here.”

“So you’re coming?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Keaton, are you serious? You’ll come with me?”

“I’m serious.”

Aiden tackled his partner again. Keaton chuckled,

squeezing Aiden back.

“You said Little Italy’s close to campus, right? Just

don’t let me gorge myself to obesity on Italian food.”

Aiden pulled back suddenly. “Classes go from ten

to six every day except Sunday. And there are rehearsals

in the evenings. We’ll never see each other.”

Keaton brushed the hair back from Aiden’s face.

“Aiden. Let yourself be happy. We’ll work out the

challenges as they come.”

“You’re way too calm,” Aiden grumbled.

“And you’re too quick to rain on your own

parade.”

“It rains in Cleveland. Like, every day.”

“I like the rain.”

“You like everything.”

“I don’t like to see a barely touched dinner plate.”

Keaton nodded at the supper Aiden had sworn he’d eat

before starting on his lines.

“I’m working on it!” Aiden insisted.

Keaton laughed. “Don’t think I won’t take you over

my knee again, brat.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Keaton grabbed him playfully and spun him

around, bending him over a chair and whacking his

bottom with a rolled-up magazine. Aiden giggled and

tried to struggle away. “Ow! Keaton, don’t. I’m too sore.”

Keaton leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Too

sore for me to fuck you?”

Aiden let out a breath and wriggled against Keaton.

Keaton wouldn’t let him up.

“No,” Aiden gasped. “Not too sore at all.”

“Good. Because as soon as you finish your dinner,

I’m going to take you upstairs and ravish you.”

“Nooo!” Aiden protested. “Ravish now! I promise,

that’ll satisfy my appetite better than this.”

“You have a problem with my stir-fry?” Keaton

tapped Aiden’s butt warningly with the magazine.

“No! I’ll eat; I’ll eat. Let me go.”

Keaton released him. Aiden sat down and began

shoveling forkfuls of stir-fry into his mouth. “Now that’s

what I like to see,” Keaton said. “Eat your vegetables,

and you’ll get dessert.”

Aiden made a face at him. He’d barely put the last

bite of dinner in his mouth when Keaton lifted him out of

his chair and flung him over his shoulder. Aiden

pounded on Keaton’s back with his fists, a display

Keaton answered by casually swatting Aiden’s bottom.

Aiden was breathless with laughter by the time they

reached the bedroom.

Keaton lowered him onto the mattress, mindful of

his sore rear, and kissed him deeply. “I’d better take

advantage of this while I can,” Keaton said. “Once you’re

a big star, you’ll forget all about the little people.”

“Not so little,” Aiden said, stroking the bulge in

Keaton’s pants. “Besides, I’ll still need you around to

keep me in line.”

“You really think you can live by my rules?”

“That’s the only way I want to live.”

“All right, brat. Here are the rules for tonight. You

let me undress you and stare at your gorgeous body

until I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yes, Keaton.”

“You spread your legs and take me deep inside

you.”

“Yes.”

“You let me hear you while I take you. You don’t

hold back. You let yourself be young and happy and

beautiful in front of me.”

“Yes,” Aiden whispered.

“You don’t worry about a thing.”

Aiden smiled, reaching up and snagging Keaton’s

collar with his fingers, pulling Keaton into another long

kiss. When they parted, Keaton’s breathing was rough

and his cheeks were flushed. Aiden stroked his face.

“How could I, with you here?”

Loose Id Titles by J. A. Rock

By His Rules

J. A. Rock

J.A. Rock lives in the hot, humid wilds of Alabama

with a dog, Professor Anne Studebaker. A lover of

alphabet soup, J.A. writes LGBTQ BDSM romances with

a D/s focus.