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Authors: Chris Owen,Jodi Payne

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83

Deviations: Submission

by Jodi Payne, Chris Owen

Chapter 7

It was still dark when Tobias left his apartment complex, his travel mug of coffee filling the cab of the truck with steam and the promise of caffeine. The sun would be up by the time he arrived at the farm, he knew, but that did nothing to dim his enjoyment of the empty city streets, the glow of street and traffic lights leading him away from one life and into another.

He thought that the image was lovely and romantic, would perhaps be suitably symbolic for a movie or a mediocre novel, but upon even the smallest reflection it shattered around him and there he was, just him, driving from one home to another. There was no danger of one of his lives spilling into the other; they were the same, there was only one. He was the same, no matter where he went or who he talked to. He was Tobias Vincent, veterinarian, boss, partner, Dom, hobby farmer, and lucky bastard. And that was all there was to it.

The drive passed quickly and smoothly, a welcome routine despite the early start and despite the lingering effects of the night before. He knew very well he was still slightly off kilter, more by the realization of how terribly out of practice he was than anything else. It had felt good-damn good-and he'd enjoy thinking about it later. He'd enjoy debating and listing and going over his own needs as well as those he wanted to help Noah with. Alone in his big bed he'd—

Later. For now, there were horses to tend to and Mrs.

Miller to check in with and a hundred little things to see to.

Everything had its time, and at the moment it was time to 84

Deviations: Submission

by Jodi Payne, Chris Owen

make tea for Mrs. Miller, with just a hint of honey and a drip of lemon. Personally, he loathed it that way, but she enjoyed it, and at eighty-three she was well set in her ways.

He walked into the house quietly, well aware that even five years ago she would have met him at the door, her day already an hour gone. She still did almost as much as she'd done then, simply at a slower pace, and he was happy enough to look the other way when she hired on the Spence girls to do the dusting. Of course, they all insisted that the teens were there to visit. Three times a week, like clockwork.

Pondering making some toast to go with the tea, Tobias was almost to the kitchen when Mrs. Miller popped out of the sunshine at him, teapot in hand.

"Good morning," he said, knowing that she'd seen him jump.

She beamed at him, looking extraordinarily happy to have finally done something shocking. "Good morning, Doctor. Sit right down, and I'll fetch your coffee and the toast rack."

He shook his head in admiration and did as he was told, making himself comfortable at the round kitchen table. He usually had breakfast in the sunny room, with or without Mrs.

Miller, but luncheon was frequently outside and supper was always in the dining room. He rather enjoyed the mornings in the kitchen, these days.

Mrs. Miller returned from the pantry with a tray bearing his mug and the toast, a carafe of coffee next to the creamer. As she set the massive thing down on the table she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and said, "Sweetie-pie called me last night."

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"Damn," Tobias said without thinking, then made a show of biting his tongue. Cussing was not allowed at any table laid by Mrs. Miller. "Sorry. What did the brat want, if I may ask?"

She rolled her eyes at him and sat down, picking up her teacup delicately. "What he always wants, of course. He wants you to call him, he insists it's important." Her expression grew suddenly sly. "I think he'd like to come back to you," she said confidently.

Tobias rolled his eyes, subtlety long worn out on Mrs.

Miller. "No, he does not. Nor would I have him back-I'm afraid, Madam, your sweetie-pie is relegated to ex-sweetie-pie."

She tsked at him and nudged the toast closer, waiting until he'd dutifully taken a slice to say, "A girl can dream, no?

Phantom brought so much energy to the house."

Tobias firmly told himself not to look at her. Phan had done that, there was no denying it. "I can ask him to visit,"

he said, suddenly inspired. "As long as you promise to drop your idea of us getting back together. Phantom's moved on-I'm moving on."

"You are?" She pounced on it like a barn cat upon a reckless mouse and he groaned.

"Which is probably what Phan wants to talk about," he said. "Now, dear lady, I have a farrier to meet, a Phantom to call, and a farm to play on. You and I will gossip after supper, all right?"

"Yes, Doctor," she agreed, smiling up at him. "Is he a nice boy?"

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Tobias smiled back at her, thinking about Noah for a moment. "He's a good boy. You'll like him."

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Deviations: Submission

by Jodi Payne, Chris Owen

Chapter 8

At two-thirty Tobias rounded the side of the house and climbed the front porch, ready to sit for a while and have something cool to drink. It was a warm day, even if a tad damp from a sudden mid-morning rain storm, and he thought he'd earned a little time in a sunny spot with a glass of Mrs.

Miller's iced tea.

She had anticipated him yet again, and he found her nicely tucked into her chair, rocking happily next to the table. He paused to take in the picture fondly: his housekeeper, some cookies and iced tea, and her knitting basket. His own chair beckoned, and he smiled as he walked toward her.

She reached into her knitting basket and handed him the portable phone. "Number six on the speed dial. And then you may have some iced tea."

Tobias debated saying no if only to establish himself as an adult, but the thought of her merely smiling and sending him into the house anyway stopped him cold. He did have some pride, quite a lot of it actually, and he chose his battles well.

With a sigh he nodded and walked into the house, careful not to slam the door.

He pulled off his boots in the front hall and pushed the required speed dial button on his way up the stairs, determined to at least have this conversation in the relative privacy of his bedroom. The phone chirped in his ear three times before Phan picked up.

"Yellow."

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"You want me to slow down all ready?" Tobias asked, blinking at the odd greeting. "We've not even begun."

There was a stunned silence and then Phan began to laugh. "I said 'hello', not 'yellow'. I'm on an accent kick."

"Get over it."

"I guess I have to, or I'll have no fun at all. Jesus."

Tobias listened to Phan laugh again and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mrs. Miller misses you," he said when Phan calmed.

"Ah, my Elizabeth. How is she? She sounded great on the phone."

"She's doing well. I told her I'd ask you to visit."

"Really? When?"

Tobias frowned slightly, thinking of his date book. "I'm not sure really, not next week. Maybe the week after?"

He could hear pages turning as Phan flipped through his ever-present diary. "No can do," he said regretfully. "Tell you what, I'll see what I can do about popping about during the day sometime-I'll clear it with you, of course."

During the day, Tobias knew, meant "when you aren't there and I can pick her brain and she can pick mine and we can plot." Really, it wasn't an issue. He knew they worried about him, probably more than anyone else had ever done.

"Sure," he agreed. "Bring her something nice."

"Absolutely. So, you wanna know the gossip about you, or do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Tobias sighed and fell back on the bed. "I don't suppose we can skip this conversation?"

"Do you really want me showing up in the bar again just to see?"

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"I would have happily killed you, you know."

"I know," Phan said sadly.

There was a long silence before Tobias finally said, "You don't need to worry so much, Phan. But thank you for caring."

"Thank you," came the whispered reply. "But I disagree.

Especially if what I've heard is true, Tobias."

Tobias winced. "All right, tell me how badly the story is mucked up."

He could almost feel Phan cheer up a little; gossip was like a little treat to him, and the chance to share it-especially to the object of said gossip-was like a gift. "Right, so the basic story is that you called and said you'd be in, and that you wanted trout—"

"Good Lord, are you going to tell me everything?"

"-so the kitchen already knew, and Brian—"

"Ah."

"-was almost having orgasms. Well, a bunch of 'em were-really, your reputation could get you laid every night for a year, I swear, with no repeats."

"Phan."

"No, really. Guys would walk on water to be picked, and no one ever talks about it. They just kind of float around for a few days looking blissed out. Well, except for Pat-what the hell did you do to him, anyway? I mean, five days? He's like a legend, going upstairs with you on a Friday and not coming down until Wednesday morning..."

"Never mind." There were very, very few things that Tobias would never talk about, and his time with Pat was one of them. He hadn't intended five days, indeed it had begun as 90

Deviations: Submission

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an evening not unlike the first one he'd had with Noah. But it had been only a few months since he'd set Phan free, and it was too soon. A long session on Friday had led to Saturday and Sunday crying in Pat's arms, talking, rationalizing ... and Monday through Tuesday had been regrouping sessions as a reward and thank you for them both. He never wanted to live through that again.

Suddenly he saw himself, a year or two into the future, doing just that, Noah seriously and honestly explaining that it was time for him to move on, to find something new.

He gasped, the image so sharp and bright it could have cut him. "Phan, I—"

"Right. So the place was in an uproar, 'cause you hadn't booked a room, and then there was that thing in the dining room. Brian tells everyone that Noah went to his knees and the general feeling is that he's gonna get his mind blown, that he'd finally worked his way around to the top top and he'd be a puddle for someone to mop up. Generally, everyone was sorry it wasn't them, and hey, maybe when you came back in a few months they'd get another shot, you know?"

Tobias swallowed, barely paying attention. He could see Noah on the bed, sleeping it off, could taste the tears Noah'd shed. "Yes."

"Then you show up in the bar in less than pristine condition and not only freak on Bradford, but talk to Brett and get drunk. The place went quietly nuts, everyone was dying of curiosity."

"Not to mention calling me."

"Yeah, well. I worry. Sue me."

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Tobias snorted into the phone.

"Nothing for a week, it kind of dies off, but word is there's a betting pool on if Noah shows up on Friday, and then what do you know? He calls and books a room for you."

"How do you know that?" Tobias asked, curious.

"I was with Bradford when the call came through."

Oh. Tobias decided not to think about it.

"You asked," Phan said softly.

"I did. Go on."

He heard Phan sigh, could imagine him pushing his hand through his hair and making it all stick up. "So the place exploded. Everyone just ... Jesus, Tobias. Three years since you've taken anyone upstairs more than once. Hell, eight years, if you don't count me. There's guys there that had no idea you'd ever been anything but a one time only man. And Noah ... he goes through tops like most people go through ...

well, he goes through a lot of tops. So I decided to get Sandy to cover me for a few hours on Friday and I stuck around."

"I wasn't pleased with that, Phantom," Tobias said mildly.

"Your display was over the top, intimidating and rude."

Phan snorted. "I'd accept that if you said I was rude to you."

"You were. How you act to me reflects, you know that.

That was an essential fact of your training and an absolute of your slavery."

There was a long pause. "You don't own me anymore, Tobias," he said softly.

Tobias closed his eyes. "No. I don't."

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"Look," Phan said calmly. "I worshiped you. He wasn't even your sub yet, just a guy. Yeah, I was making a point-the point being that you're important to me, that I'd do anything for you, even kiss your feet in public. If he wants to do that too, fine-but he's not alone. He's gotta be the best."

Oddly, because it made no sense, that touched Tobias.

"Phantom, you never change, do you?" he asked with a smile.

"Nope. And now ... well, the scoop is that you blew out early but happy and Noah fucking floated down the stairs.

There's wailing and rending of clothes and hell of a lot of subs cursing their misfortune. Tell me-is it true? Is he your boy now?"

Tobias sat up, rubbing his jeans with one hand. "I don't know. I-there's nothing official, if that's what you want to know. We're going to talk later in the week, outside of the club. But..."

"But?" Phan's voice had dropped to match his own.

"I screwed up, Phan. You were right, you and Bradford, I waited too long. My control was off, enough to distract me, and I had to fight to keep my voice calm. I want to sleep with him, to hold him and care for him, and more than anything I want him. It's like ... going back eight years. I feel like I'm about to walk off the edge of the cliff."

"Oh, sir..." Phan's voice was full of sympathy, probably the only person on the planet who would really understand what Tobias meant, what he was worried about.

"I asked Brett if Noah's a pain slut," Tobias whispered. "I knew already that I couldn't go there, and the thought that I 93

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