Chapter 9 - Clark

There were a number of qualities that separated a great submissive from a good one. I was fortunate enough to say that both of my boys were the former. My Adrian, for one, was a delicacy: the textbook definition of the ideal sub. Loyal, amendable, and eager to please; he regarded each and every command as an esteemed gift to be handled with the utmost care. He followed direction as if his life depended on it, taking pride in his obedience and pleasure in his subsequent praise.

My Avett was a wild card; he kept me on my toes. Cunning, hedonistic and cocky, he challenged my authority every chance he could get and looked to the world like it was a game to be won. He knew as well as anyone, however, that this was my world, and there was no winning for him unless I chose to crown him the victor. Should I choose otherwise, it took only a distinct glance and a shift in tone and his act would crumble in surrender. I was fascinated with that singular, fleeting moment wherein contest ceded to compliance, and Avett never failed to captivate me. Adrian was great because, with every fiber of his being, he wanted to obey. Avett was great because, despite his every effort to resist, he couldn’t help but to obey.

In their own individual ways, Adrian and Avett distinguished themselves from any and all other subs I’d known. My boys set the bar high. Upon meeting them I’d felt at once inclined to grasp them close and avoid letting go. Still, three years later, I felt it, as I caught a glimpse of their smiling faces above the banister, greeting me after a long day from the top of those creaky old stairs. I felt something else, too, that had been growing within me exponentially over the years - greater than prosperity and greater than pride. I supposed, at least for a sentimentalist such as myself, that was another quality that set a great submissive apart: a certain capacity for love.

“Hi, Sir,” they chirped in unison, clinging onto each other in their enthusiasm.

“Boys,” I nodded, my adoration swiftly replaced by suspicion. “Why are you two so sweaty?”

The boys were meant to have bathed and been in bed an hour ago. Instead, the two were flushed, with their pajamas sticking to them as if they’d just ran laps around the yard. “We’re not,” Avett lied.

I cocked an eyebrow. He backtracked. “I guess we’re a bit warm. We just wrapped up a phone call with Lily.”

I smirked and thought, I should’ve known. That girl would be the death of me, and I hadn’t even met her yet. I had to admit that I was intrigued, however. Any person that could turn my boys into these slobbering, lovesick puppies was certainly someone worthy of interest. The way they blathered on about her all weekend was wholly reminiscent of the way in which Adrian spoke of his best friend all throughout our first date. It was unrestrained, with unequivocal infatuation, and it led my mind to wonder just what they would do to her if they were given free rein. If they had her naked, for example, in a room alone, with only me looking on.

I nodded slowly. “I see.”

“How was your dinner, Sir?” Adrian asked, quick to change to subject.

“Exhausting,” I said truthfully. Such dinners were always dreadful. That night, in particular, the clients had gotten drunk early on and spent the meal boring my colleagues and I with vapid anecdotes. I had wanted nothing more than to be home, in bed with my boys. “Avett, run the bath,” I ordered. “Adrian, come speak to me.”

Avett ran off down the hall while Adrian crept obediently down the stars, looking sheepish. The poor boy was in frequent fear of being in trouble, which he rarely actually was. At the last step, I tugged his scrawny body into my arms, kissing his head. He relaxed immediately against my chest. The woodsy smell of his boyish soap in his damp hair revealed that he had indeed already showered, having worked up some sort of lustful sweat since. I pushed the rumpled strands off his forehead. “Have you been behaving yourself, cub?”

He perked up at the nickname, his favorite of many, and nodded eagerly. “Good boy.” I glanced upstairs. Did I even want to ask? Late-night phone calls with girls rarely ended innocently, at least judging by the experience of my own youth. “ ... Avett, as well?” I asked finally.

The boy chewed his lip, choosing his words carefully. “He was ... flirty, Sir,” he said with a shrug to indicate, that’s Avett for you. “Otherwise, he didn’t ... misbehave.”

I smiled, finding it sweet that after all of the indecency I’d subjected him to over the years, the boy still struggled to say dirty words such as “masturbate” in front of me. Still, that was all I needed to hear. Adrian was my angel; I knew he would never lie to me, no matter how strong the urge to protect Avett was.

I pulled back to study him. There had been a question gnawing at the back of my mind all weekend, but it was one Adrian needed to answer on his own. The boys’ nearly constant state of being attached at the hip was endearing, sure, but made it difficult to catch one alone organically. “Adrian...” I started. He was busy fumbling with the sleeves of his Henley, its elastic ends loose and threadbare from his constant fidgeting. I had bought the boy so many nice clothes, yet he insisted on wearing old, ill-fitting t-shirts and hoodies with holes in the sleeves. “Look at me,” I said.

He caught my gaze through dark, matted lashes, his brown eyes sagging already with sleepiness from his presumably eventful evening. “I’m going to ask you this one more time,” I said. “Do you want to bring Lily into our life?” I didn’t even mention Avett’s name. I needed his thoughts to be on himself and himself alone. I needed to know that he wanted this, too.

He didn’t hesitate. “More than anything,” he breathed. “It’s just...” He trailed off, toying with his lip again.

“Tell me.”

“She’s so perfect, Sir. I’m worried you’ll like her more than you like me.”

Sweet boy. “Don’t be silly, Adrian. That’s impossible.” I brought my lips close to his ear and lowered my voice. “Everyone knows you’re my favorite.” He pulled back, grinning. He knew I didn’t pick favorites, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless. A white lie to put his troubled mind at ease.

“In that case...” He began. For a brief moment, his carefully curated role as a submissive slipped away and I caught a glimpse of the Adrian underneath: just a normal, 22-year-old boy with a crush on a pretty girl. “Without a doubt. I would very much like that.”

“Good. Then it’s done,” I concluded. I would give him the world if I could, but this was a good enough starting place. I tugged him back toward me and pressed my lips against his. He shuddered and melted into the kiss, as I bit his lip in the same spot he always did for good measure. “Now, upstairs you go,” I directed, with a sharp slap on the butt that made him yelp before rushing up the steps.

I met my boys in the master bathroom, which was rapidly filling with the steam from hot bathwater. It was the most modern room in the house, having been recently renovated upon our move-in to add a jacuzzi tub and a standing glass shower. Avett had objected to the construction at first, citing his grievances about the “historic integrity” of the home. His complaints had quickly subsided, however, the moment he stepped foot into his first bath in that tub. My boys now stood stripping, resisting the natural urge to throw their pajamas in messy piles and instead taking care to neatly fold the clothes. Such good listeners.

Avett dipped his toes in first, the heat of the water quickly traversing his body to deposit a flush under the skin. He had spent the summer swimming laps in the pool and had newly developing lean muscles to show for it, as well as a mild tan and highlights in his shaggy hair from the sun. That unkempt hair was now almost to his shoulders, but I knew to pick and choose my battles. A much needed but highly detested haircut wouldn’t be one. Now acclimated to the heat of the water, Avett grabbed for Adrian’s wrist and yanked him to the tub, depriving him of the luxury of a subtle transition. “Ouch!” Adrian screeched. “Avey, that’s HOT!”