M/m sex, discipline, spanking. If the idea of a discipline relationship between consenting adult men offends you, so will this story.


When It's Right

Kenneth finished dinner and cleaned the kitchen carefully and thoroughly. Both habit and inclination made him a naturally neat cook, so cleanup was a light chore, easily accomplished. He took a few minutes to hand wash the Mexican pottery crocks on the back of the counter top. He was fond of their bold patterns and vibrant colors; it was worth the little extra trouble it took to keep them looking fine.

Besides, Kenneth thought ruefully, there was no need to rush; he wasn't going anywhere. Friday was almost over; the weekend stretched before him. He had a list of little things that needed doing before the cold weather arrived, there were a few new stores he wanted to check out and that was about it for his weekend plans. A quiet weekend, the kind he had always loved. Even though...

Kenneth sighed. Leisure time was lonely time without a companion to share it. His old longing for connection hadn't entirely left him, but his old, easy confidence had. Once he had hoped for someone all his own, someone to love and cosset and care for, but now all he hoped was that someday, eventually, he would look at someone and feel a spark of that old desire.

Or at least, feel something. Lust would do.

"You're depressed, Kenneth," John had said at lunch. "Go talk to someone, get some support and some medication if you need it. The SOB kicked you in the teeth, but hey, he isn't the only guy out there."

"You could be right." Kenneth took a deep breath. He reached towards the check, but John already had it.

"You need to take your life back." John clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be a stranger. We miss you."

Am I depressed? Kenneth asked himself. Do I need a shrink?

A private man who put a premium on self-reliance, he found the idea of discussing his feelings with a stranger, professional or not, distasteful. Yet he had to acknowledge that he felt down, drained of his usual energy and enthusiasm for life.

Although it was barely ten thirty and a Friday night, Kenneth took out the garbage, locked his back door, shut off the lights and went to bed.

This Saturday morning had been reserved for Kenneth's monthly pilgrimage downtown. He enjoyed the small shops and restaurants that made up the restored city center. He enjoyed augmenting his small, carefully chosen collection of exotic pottery.

Kenneth was delighted to see that a long-shuttered antique store had reopened since his last visit. He stepped hopefully into the sweet gloom of the tiny mid-block shop, wondering who in their right mind would attempt to sort through this mixture of trash and treasure.

"Hi there," said a voice. A good-looking man with untidy blond hair and very pale skin emerged from behind a stack of boxes. "Looking for something in particular? I might be able to at least point you in the right direction."

"I saw an interesting vase here several months ago," Kenneth said. "Some sort of Japanese export ware? It was small, about six inches high and very red."

"I did see that! This way, I think. I hope." The salesclerk led Kenneth to the rear of the shop. Scanned the crowded shelves with a quick and expert eye. "Gotcha!" he crowed. He reached under an overhanging shelf and presented Kenneth with a shapely, intensely colored vessel. "I knew I had it."

"It's beautiful," Kenneth said, turning the piece carefully in his hands. "Truly lovely."

"I'm glad you think so. I like it myself, but it's an odd piece."

"The color is wonderful," Kenneth said. "What do you call that shade of red?"

"Coral? Salmon? It changes with the light. Let's take it up front and I'll show you."

Kenneth tailed him back through the narrow aisles.

"Japanese export ware is going to be very hot." The young man tilted his head to view the piece at an angle. His bangs fell in a glossy wave across his forehead. "My friend and his partner just bought a similar piece for over four fifty."

My friend and his partner... My oh my. Kenneth felt a curl of interest stir within him.


"It was slightly larger, but the color wasn't as pure, and I think this one has more character."

"How interesting," Kenneth said. "I'd need to think it over." He took a deep breath: Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "You know, I was planning on having dinner in the neighborhood here. Would you like to join me?"

"All right! I mean...yes, that sounds like a great idea. My name's Donald Riley."

"Kenneth Lowe."

They smiled at each other.

"So where were you thinking of eating?" Donald asked.

"I like the place across the street, Enjoli's?"

"Italian sounds great." Donald cocked his head to one side. "I'll be through at seven thirty. Is that good for you?"

"Perfect," Kenneth said. "I'll meet you at the bar."

It was ten to eight when Donald materialized at Kenneth's elbow.

"Sorry I'm late," Donald said casually. "Did you get a drink yet?"

"Yes, thanks, and there should be a table opening up any minute," Kenneth said.

"Kir," Donald said to the bartender. "Thanks, Mick."

"I take it you come here occasionally," Kenneth said with a laugh.

"That or I call all bartenders 'Mick,'" Donald said with a straight face.

"I thought that place had gone out of business," Kenneth said after they were seated.

"It had, more or less. I took over the lease at the beginning of the month. The former tenants were a few months in arrears and basically abandoned the stock. They were a little bit–" Donald made cuckoo circles around his temple. "Some of it's trash, but some of it's really exciting stuff. There's just so much of it. I've been trying to take inventory, but it's slow going. I haven't even touched the stockroom and the basement underneath and they're packed, too." Donald's hazel eyes sparkled at the thought.

"It sounds like you're enjoying the challenge," Kenneth commented.

"Yes!" Donald grinned at him. "I'm so glad you see that. I was still working for someone else when this opportunity came along and it was just too good to pass up." David took a sip of his drink. "So Kenneth, what do you do when you're not hunting down Japanese export ware?"

"I work in the development department of a not-for-profit foundation that brings music to the public schools," Kenneth said. "I'm basically a grants writer."

"That sounds interesting," Donald said. "Does that mean you're a musician?"

"No," Kenneth laughed. "It means I was an English major."

"Small world," Donald laughed. "So was I."

"Hi, I'm Joey, do you know what you're having?" the waiter asked.

Kenneth and Donald looked at each other. Neither had opened his menu.

"The chef's special tonight is sauteed scallops in lemon butter, with baby artichokes and new potatoes," Joey suggested helpfully.

"That sounds good," said Donald. "I'll have that, please.

"It does," agreed Kenneth. "I'll have the same."

"So there's a nice production of 'True West' playing at the university theater, I hear," Donald said. "I have a friend who can get tickets. Maybe you'd like to go see it?"

"I like Sam Shepard," Kenneth said. He tried to remember the last time he had felt this happy. It had been too long ago to remember.

Dinner was good; the walk they took around the neighborhood, even better. Phone numbers and email addresses exchanged, they said goodbye.

They saw the play; they went to the movies. They ate out. They brought food in and watched DVDs and cuddled on each other's couches. And no matter where they went or what they did, Donald was inevitably late.

Kenneth looked at his watch and sighed. There was no question about whether Donald would come. The only question was when. But even for Donald, an hour and a half was pushing it a little. Ah, the bell!

"Good to see you, Donald, I was getting worried. Come on in." Kenneth ushered Donald into his apartment. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Why?" Donald asked, a little confused at the question.

"Do you know what time we agreed to meet?" Kenneth asked.

"Around eight?" Donald tried to remember. "Why, what time is it?"

"Nine thirty." Kenneth extended his arm to Donald, bending his wrist so that his watch was visible.

"Oh." Donald looked from the watch to Kenneth. "I do the best I can, Kenneth. I didn't mean to piss you off." Donald hunched his shoulders defensively. "Maybe I should just get going, all right?"


"I'm not angry with you, Donald." Kenneth touched his forearm gently. "But I do want to discuss this."

"There's nothing to discuss." Donald sounded frustrated. "I was running a little late and now you're mad at me. I don't see what the big deal is."

"I'm not mad at you and I agree, it's not a 'big' deal" Kenneth said patiently. "But it does seem we have different styles when it comes to time. When I say eight, I mean no later than eight ten. When you say eight, it seems to mean 'sometime before ten.' This is something I think we have to talk about if we're going to have a relationship."

"You're going to blow me off because I have to put in the hours? Jesus, Kenneth, the shop doesn't run itself! Someone's got to take care of the damn place and that someone is me!"

"I'm listening to you, Donald. Don't shout at me," Kenneth said quietly.

Donald flushed red from jaw to temple, embarrassed at his outburst. Abruptly he strode across the room to the window. Leaned his forehead against the cool glass and looked out at the quiet street, the quiet night, feeling his heart race.

Breathe. Donald willed himself to silence. Sucked cool air through his nostrils. Breathe in, exhale.

Kenneth watched with quiet interest.

"I didn't mean to lose my temper," Donald said finally, turning back from the window. "I'm sorry, Kenneth."

"I know," Kenneth said with a ghost of a smile. "Come on, I'll scramble us some eggs. I take it you haven't eaten?"

"I think I had a breakfast bar this morning," Donald said wanly.

"All right then. Let's eat and we'll take it from there," Kenneth said. "Come on, Donald, you must be hungry."

Donald watched quietly as Kenneth opened the refrigerator, extracted eggs and milk. Preheated the small cast iron pan. Scrambled the eggs.

The smell of browning butter made Donald salivate. By the time the omelette was ready, Donald was starving. He ate hungrily, his appetite making Kenneth glad that he had used a full half dozen eggs for their meal. Kenneth himself ate a far more modest portion.

The quick, tasty meal revived Donald. By the end of dinner, he was reanimated. He talked about the customers he'd had that day, the fate of his latest auction consignment, a wonderful piece he'd bought on E-bay. Kenneth leaned his head on his hand and listened, watching the play of emotions across Donald's mobile features. Enjoying Donald's volubility and enthusiasm.

"Kenneth?" Donald hesitated.

"Yes, Donald?"

"Kenneth, listen, I'm sorry I was late. I didn't mean to screw up our evening. I just get caught up? There's so many things I have to do and I just get..." Donald shrugged. "Anyway, whatever, it doesn't really matter. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Donald, and I appreciate your apology. And I said I wasn't angry and I meant it. But I think we have to come to an agreement about this."

"An agreement?"

"An agreement. When we make a date for eight, that means, barring catastrophes, eight. Eight fifteen I can live with, eight thirty is pushing it. A quarter to ten? It's not out there, Donald!" Kenneth didn't raise his voice, but Donald winced nonetheless.

"I'll try to do better," Donald said reluctantly. "Damn, Kenneth, I hate for you to be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Donald," Kenneth repeated. "But I am serious about this. It's important to me to be able to plan my time."

"I know it is, Kenneth." Donald felt bad. "I'll do better."

Donald really did try. Just...there were so many things involved in closing the shop in the evening. There was always one customer who didn't make up his mind until ten minutes past closing to come back another day. There was always one final invoice to go over.

And he had promised Kenneth he would be over at eight thirty, which was technically an hour ago.

"I know I'm late, Kenneth," Donald said repentantly.

"That you are," Kenneth said shortly. "Come on in, I kept dinner warm. It should still be edible."

"Shit." Donald felt sick to his stomach. Kenneth never snapped at him. "I'm sorry."

"All right." They ate in uncharacteristic silence. Kenneth could tell that Donald was upset.

"Donald, I didn't mean to be so sharp with you. I'm sorry. I was disappointed that you were late, but I shouldn't have overreacted. I'd really, really appreciate it if you'd talk to me. I know I hurt your feelings."

"There really isn't anything to say," Donald said hoarsely. "I know you think I'm a real screw-up. My saying I'm sorry again isn't going to change that."

"You're mistaken, Donald. I don't think you're a screw-up," Kenneth said mildly.

"Oh!" Relief in Donald's surprised exclamation.

"I like you, Donald, I just don't like it when you're late," Kenneth said gently. He laid his hand gently on Donald's. "Now, how are we going to make sure this doesn't happen again? Because my sense is that you do try, that you have tried, every time, to be on time."

"I do try!" Donald's voice was thick with frustration. "It's just that there's so much to do, Kenneth, and no matter how I plan, there's always one more thing that feels important to finish before I leave and..." David shrugged. "Anyway, don't take it personally. I was late for every appointment I had this week," Donald added wryly.

"I can't believe that's helping you professionally," Kenneth observed.

Donald snorted and rolled his eyes.

"This is something you can choose to do differently, you know," Kenneth said, feeling a surge of protective affection for Donald. "Being punctual isn't a matter of magic or luck."

"I know," Donald said dismally. "I once failed a class because I was late every morning. Ouch. You can bet the second time I took it I was on time. It's just hard for me sometimes to put actions and consequences together, you know?" He shrugged, looking down.

"I could help you with that," Kenneth said softly. "I'd like to help you with that."

"Help me how?" Donald asked. "What are you going to do, stand over me with a whip?" He laughed ruefully.

"Not a whip, but yes, I think I could make the consequences of your actions more tangible, if that were something we both wanted," Kenneth said.

"Tangible how?" Donald's words hung in the air.

"Donald," Kenneth asked quietly, "Have you ever heard of a discipline relationship?"

"No," Donald said frankly. "A discipline relationship? What's that, like spanking?"

"It's more than just that," Kenneth said. "But yes, spanking's part of it."

"Oh shit." Donald swallowed hard. "I'm really a pretty vanilla kind of guy, Kenneth."

"You look like you expect me to haul out the whips and chains," Kenneth teased. "Relax, Donald, I'm not talking about anything like that. I'm talking about discipline, not BDSM. I'd like to discuss this with you, but only if you agree you want to talk about it."

"Just talk, right?" Donald asked.

"Just talk," Kenneth confirmed.

"All right, I guess it can't hurt to talk," Donald said under his breath, almost as it he were trying to convince himself. He raised his eyes to meet Kenneth's.

"I'm a little nervous, Kenneth," Donald said softly. "What exactly do you mean by "spanking"? Donald stumbled over the word, flushing red as he forced himself to say it out loud again.

Kenneth took Donald's hand in his own and lacing their fingers together, spoke gently.

"Don't be nervous, Donald, and please don't feel embarrassed. It's hard for me to talk about this, too, and I have the feeling I'm a lot more familiar with the idea than you are. Come here, this might be easier if we got comfortable." Kenneth lay back on the couch and drew Donald down alongside him until Donald's head was pillowed on his chest.

"This is nice," Donald said. It felt easy and familiar; they'd done this before. "Um, Kenneth? You'd warn me before you hit me, right?"

"Donald, Donald, Donald..." Kenneth stroked his palm gently over Donald's face, turning it up so that their eyes met. "I'll never "hit" you, Donald. Spanking's not hitting. And I won't spank you unless you agree that it's right for our relationship. Donald, try to relax, okay? You're shaking...do you want to sit up?"

"No." Donald took a deep breath, tried to relax. "I'm good, Kenneth. Just this is new, you know?" He laughed shakily.

"I know," Kenneth said gently. He rubbed Donald's back, enjoying the trusting way Donald curled closer into him.

"What do you mean by 'spanked'?" Donald asked again.

"A spanking: My hand across your bare butt." Kenneth defined the word.

"That's for kids!" Donald protested.

"No, it's also for adults. It's called domestic discipline and a lot of people find it adds to the quality of their relationship," Kenneth explained.

"I hated being spanked as a kid," Donald said vehemently. "Hated it!"

"Well, you may still hate it as an adult," Kenneth said with a laugh. "That's what makes it a good punishment, Donald. It wouldn't be punishment if you enjoyed it."

"I thought people did get off on it?" Donald asked confusedly. "That BDSM stuff...isn't that what you're talking about?"

"Not exactly," Kenneth said softly. "This is disciplinary spanking I'm talking about. I can email you a couple of links if you want, there's some good information about it online."

"Yeah, that'd be good." Donald shrugged. "I don't know anything about it. I'm not saying no, Kenneth, just...it's nothing I've ever really heard of. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Donald." Kenneth ruffled Donald's hair. "It's something different, that's true. But it's something I think might work for us. Just keep an open mind about it for now, all right? Can you do that for me?"

"I think so," Donald said. "Send me those links and I'll look at them, okay? Then we can talk about them."

"Sure, Donald." Kenneth ran his thumb over Donald's lips.

Donald mouthed Kenneth's thumb flirtatiously and for awhile there was no talking at all.

"Good night!" Kenneth yawned as he waved a final farewell. That had been...incredible. Kenneth smiled, a loose, loopy grin. Donald was...incredible. Incredibly tired, incredibly happy, Kenneth made his way upstairs to bed.

First thing the next morning Kenneth emailed Donald the promised URLs.

The shop was quiet in the early morning. Alone at his computer, Donald sped through his email. He opened first one, then two, then three of the links Kenneth had sent him, and then setting aside his planned morning's work, read avidly.

I have to be utterly insane to even consider a lifestyle like this, Donald thought to himself. But...this is what I've always dreamed of, too. Where has this been all my life? Eyes bleary, heart beating a little too fast, cursing himself for a fool even as he held his breath hopefully, Donald dialed Kenneth's number and made a lunch date.

"The stuff you showed me is kind of...intense," Donald said, dropping his voice despite the restaurant's ambient noise and their out-of-the-way table.

"Easy, Donald, no one can hear us," Kenneth said gently, appreciating how awkward Donald felt. "I imagine you're kind of reeling right now. You look a little overwhelmed.

"Yeah, well, let's just say it's a good thing I didn't have a lot of customers so far today, because all I did was talk to myself all morning," Donald said.

"What did you say to yourself?" Kenneth asked, smiling.

"Mostly 'Oh God' and 'Jesus,'" Donald confessed. "Kenneth, this scares the shit out of me. Especially some of those stories...Christ..."

"It's all new," Kenneth said. "And you have to understand, everyone has a slightly different take on it. And some of the stories scare me too."

"Oh." Donald licked his lips nervously. "Kenneth? Have you done this before?"

"I lived with someone for almost a year and a half," Kenneth said. "It didn't work out." Kenneth looked very sad.

"Was it, were you, did you, you know, spank him?" Donald asked.

"It was a discipline relationship, if that's what you're asking. But we expected very different things from each other, and in the end we made each other very unhappy," Kenneth said soberly. He swallowed hard, wondering what Donald would make of his confession.

"I'm sorry." Impulsively, Donald brushed his hand discreetly over the back of Kenneth's.

"Thanks." Kenneth smiled at Donald. "Does this mean you're not totally put off by this?"

"Not totally." Donald smiled. "I keep thinking I should be more creeped out than I am? That's part of what scares me, Kenneth! It almost sounds good."

"That shouldn't scare you," Kenneth said with a broad smile. "It's a very, very good sign." He reached for the check. "I think this is going to be a good thing for us, Donald."

"Thanks for lunch," Donald said, standing up. "I hope you noticed I was early." He laughed lightly, but he was only half-joking.

"That was nice of you," Kenneth replied, not responding to the teasing words, but rather to the question behind them. "I appreciated it, Donald."

For a moment Donald looked disconcerted at Kenneth's insight. Then he smiled, and the sheer sweetness of it made Kenneth's heart swell with hope.

"I'll pick you up at the shop at eight," Kenneth said, returning Donald's smile with one of his own. "Go on, now, I'll see you later."

"And I bet by eight you mean eight," Donald muttered under his breath.

"Oh, I do," Kenneth said. "You can trust me on that."

Donald's stomach was in knots by the time Kenneth appeared.

"Want to eat out or come back to my place and order in?" Kenneth asked as Donald puttered around, finding one small thing after another to keep from having to leave.


"I don't know!" Donald was all wound up. This was all too much! He looked at Kenneth and shrugged half-apologetically.

"Calm down, Donald," Kenneth said, reading his face correctly. "No pressure. We can just take it easy tonight. Come on, let's get a drink across the street and decide what to do about dinner." His voice was sure, his manner easy, and all of a sudden Donald knew that everything really was going to be all right.

"Okay!" Donald relaxed visibly. Kenneth smiled warmly and with a sigh, Donald leaned into him for a quick kiss. "Okay."

Two beers later, they headed back to Kenneth's place.

"Good pizza," Donald said approvingly, finishing the last slice.

"I think you were hungry," Kenneth laughed. "It's the same as the last one we ordered."

"Well, it tasted really good tonight," Donald laughed. He picked up the dishes and the empty box and took them back into Kenneth's kitchen.

"Grab us another beer?" Kenneth called from the living room. Donald returned with two bottles and tucked himself comfortably into Kenneth on the sofa. They kissed a little. It grew darker. Donald worked his hand into the waistband of Kenneth's pants; Kenneth traced the curves of Donald's ass through his jeans. The couch creaked.

"I think your bed would be better," Donald said.

It was.

"Nice," Kenneth whispered afterwards. "You're very sweet, Donald."

"Nice, huh?" Donald giggled. "Is that good?"

"Yeah. Nice is very, very good," Kenneth said, kissing him gently.

"Good." Donald yawned sleepily and curled closer.

By the end of the month, Donald had keys to Kenneth's place, Kenneth to Donald's. They knew each other's ATM codes. They traded URLs back and forth, and they talked about discipline relationships and what one might be like.

Or, thought Kenneth ruefully, he talked. Donald gulped and nodded and occasionally muttered "oh shit" under his breath.

"Yeah, well, you've done this before, I haven't," Donald said, when Kenneth asked him about his reticence. "I mean, shit, it is the kind of thing, I mean, at least you know what you're doing. I'm trusting you here, Kenneth. I think we should go for it."

"You can trust me," Kenneth said softly. "Donald? I love you."

"Me too," Donald said. "I love you a lot."

It was easy, Donald thought smugly. Just leave on time and you'll be on time. Every time. Only tonight, there had been so many things pulling at him and he'd meant to call Kenneth, they'd agreed...

"That I could be late, if there were an emergency!" Donald said.

"That you'd call me if it were really an emergency," Kenneth said.

"But by the time I realized how late it was, you would already have been mad," Donald argued. "I figured I should just wait till I got here to explain why."

"I'm not mad, I'm not angry at you," Kenneth said. "But Donald, we made an agreement. You have a half hour grace period. If you don't call me and you're any later than that, I spank you. Come on, Donald, stop arguing and take off your jeans."

"Shit." Donald swallowed hard. "You're serious."

Kenneth looked at him.

"I don't know if I want to do this," Donald said. "Shit. Kenneth, I can't decide!"

"Just take off your jeans," Kenneth repeated calmly.

"I'm not talking about getting undressed!" Donald was too nervous to take in the reassurance his lover offered. "I'm talking about, about you–"

"About me spanking you." Kenneth looked directly at Donald. He spoke quietly and firmly. "Donald. We talked about this and we made an agreement. You already made your choice. There's nothing for you to decide here. You don't have to want this, but it's going to happen."

"All right." Trust Kenneth, Donald told himself, fumbling at his fly. Trust Kenneth. Oh shit I don't know if I can do this. Nevertheless he took off his jeans. Laid them aside. Hesitated.

"Come here." Kenneth sat down on the couch. Looked meaningfully at the space on his right.

Only four steps to the couch; not enough, Donald thought, his heart beating wildly. Forcing a deep breath, Donald took up the requested position, bent over awkwardly and arranged himself, cotton-covered butt up, over Kenneth's knees.

Kenneth shifted him slightly forward, and hooked his finger under the elastic of his shorts, pulling them down.

"Bare butt, Donald. We talked about this." Kenneth touched the gooseflesh on Donald's upper thighs and Donald shivered. "You know what this spanking is for." He took a firm hold on Donald's outer hip with his left hand and brought his right hand down sharply across one buttock. A perfect white palm print blossomed at the impact.

None of their discussions had quite prepared Donald for that first crack of Kenneth's hand across his butt. While his body and brain were still struggling to take the first swat, Kenneth lifted his arm again, cupped his palm slightly and brought it down solidly on the other cheek.

"Shit!" Donald clamped his lips shut. Gritted his teeth. Tried to draw air through his nostrils. Shit, don't let me embarrass myself. Don't let me screw this up, don't let me cry! A vain hope, that last. Donald could feel the tears beginning, the hot lump in his chest fighting to emerge.

Kenneth continued to spank his lover soundly. Not until Donald's butt was solidly red and Donald was crying continuously did he finally stop.

"All done. Good boy." Kenneth rubbed Donald's back gently. "Easy, that's it, that's my boy. All over."

"Shit, " Donald panted, trying to get his breath. "I can't do this, Kenneth, I can't. Shit!"

"You did just fine," Kenneth said, helping Donald slide to his knees and drawing him into his lap. He cupped Donald's chin in his hand, stroked his wet cheeks gently. Flushing, Donald buried his face against Kenneth's shoulder. Kenneth rubbed his back as he cried. "That's it, Donald, breathe, that's it. You're doing fine. I've got you."

"I want to go to sleep," Donald croaked. "My stomach hurts. I'm tired. I want to go to sleep!"

"That's fine," Kenneth said easily, helping Donald to his feet and walking him down the hall to the bedroom. Kenneth flipped back the covers one-handed and eased Donald down on the bed. "I'm proud of you, Donald. You did very, very well."

Donald sniffled and closed his eyes, too drained to speak.

Morning, calm and clear. The sun crept through the edges of the blinds.

"I thought I'd feel worse." Donald arched his back, testing to see how sore he was. More itch than ouch, he decided.

"Let me look," Kenneth said, lifting the covers. "As good as new." He patted the part in question gently and drew Donald into his arms. Donald snuggled into him.

"Anything we need to talk about, Donald?" Kenneth asked gently. "Anything you want to discuss? It's a big step, trusting me to discipline you. I think it's something we both want, but that doesn't mean you can't have mixed feelings about it."

"I'm good." To his own surprise, Donald meant exactly what he said. He had anticipated ambivalence, embarrassment. But for all his worries, all he felt was an enormous calm.

"We really did it." Donald was silent a moment, taking in the enormity of it. "Kenneth? I love you."

"I love you." Kenneth smoothed Donald's hair, stroked his stubbled face. "I'm very, very proud of you, Donald." His hand strayed beneath the covers, exploring. "How do you feel?"

"Oh yeah." Donald's cock hardened in response to Kenneth's touch. He tilted his head back, welcoming Kenneth's kiss. Kenneth rolled him back onto the pillow, straddling him and the initial tenderness of his ass pressing into the mattress ebbed as his excitement grew. Kenneth stroked Donald's cock and then cupped his balls gently and Donald opened his thighs, seeking more stimulation. He reached over to the night table, handed the stuff to Kenneth. Kenneth slicked his cock and then slid his finger smoothly into Donald, testing.

"Oh yeah." Donald drew his knees up, resting his legs on Kenneth's shoulders, and Kenneth slid his finger out and his cock in as Donald shifted his hips to meet Kenneth's thrust. "Oh yeah."

Donald lay soft and sated, head pillowed on Kenneth's chest, listening to his lover breathe. He twirled Kenneth's chest hair in little tufts, puckering the skin beneath.

"Hey." Kenneth caught his hand, stilling the wandering fingers. "Be nice." He tucked Donald's hand under his own, holding it firm over his heart. "Mine."


Thank you, Rusty, for encouragement, and Hedeia, for insight. EM