Bound and Determined (50 page)

“Complicated.” Owen sighed.

“Aren't they always?”

“Yes, but that doesn't make it any easier. I feel for him, I really do.” Owen

hesitated before divulging more detailed personal information. “He is in touch

with his sister through the Internet. She's too young to stand up to their father

on her own, I think, but it's something. It makes him feel better not to be cut

off entirely.”

“And that's it? His mother is perfectly happy to leave things the way they

are? I don't know,” Michael said. “I guess I expect a certain amount of anger

and disgust from fathers when they find out their sons are gay, but mothers…

It seems like they should be more accepting.”

“I did hear mention of an argument between Sterling's mother and father,”

Owen said. “I suspect she'll come around in time. From what Sterling's sister

has said, it's starting to sink in that his mother is going to miss seeing him

graduate, never have him home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I'm not sure

she's willing to agree to a permanent separation, even if Sterling's father seems

more than happy with that scenario.”

The sound of Sterling's footsteps on the stairs had Owen looking at his

watch. “Okay, I'm going to say good night now—”

“Good morning,” Michael corrected him.

“Behave,” Owen said with a chuckle. “I'll speak to you soon. Give my

regards to Daren.”

“And you take care of yourself,” Michael said. He lowered his voice and

added, “I'm glad you're happy,” before hanging up as Sterling came into the

room.

Sterling was wearing a new shirt he'd bought just for the occasion, a dark

red that brought out the blond highlights he'd had added to his hair. He'd been

talking about a piercing too, but more as if he were feeling out what Owen

thought than anything else. Mention of a tattoo would come next, Owen was

sure. “I'm ready, I think,” Sterling said. “Unless I'm forgetting something.” He

still needed fairly frequent reassurance to bolster his self-esteem, something he

hid extremely well from everyone but Owen. Owen was the one who got to see

the real Sterling, the Sterling behind the carefully erected walls.

“You look good,” Owen said. He stood and walked around Sterling, a slow,

thorough assessment that brought a flush to Sterling's face. After making a few

adjustments to the way the shirt lay across Sterling's shoulders—unnecessary

in themselves, but the attention made Sterling's eyes darken, his tongue

passing over his lips—he undid one more button on the shirt and nodded.

“Very good, in fact. I'm going to enjoy watching people stare at you, and I know

they will.” He ran his fingers across Sterling's throat and felt the ripple as

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215

Sterling swallowed hard. “Maybe we need to make sure that staring is all they

do.”

“No one's going to touch me.” Sterling sounded confident of it. “They all

must have heard by now about you putting Kirk in his place.”

“If they haven't, they've been living under a rock,” Owen agreed. The way

he was eying Sterling's throat was going to give away his surprise, he thought,

and made himself look away.

“Oh, shit, I knew I was forgetting something. You asked me to get the mail,

and I brought it in, but you were making dinner and I lost track of it.” It was a

small disobedience, one that Owen would just as easily let go without

comment, but the fact that Sterling had brought it up meant he was hoping for

the punishment that would follow.

Sterling went to the kitchen and returned with the mail.

“I'm sorry I forgot.”

“We'll deal with it later,” Owen promised, leafing through the pile that was

mostly junk mail anyway. Near the bottom, though, was a greeting card

addressed to Sterling. “This is for you.”

“I never get mail. Actual mail, I mean.” Sterling sounded surprised but

opened the envelope and pulled out the card. “It's from my mom.” Now he

sounded
really
surprised. “She says—she says she stood up to my dad and told

him he doesn't get to define her relationship with me, and she and Justine are

going to PFLAG. No
way
.”

Owen was as surprised as Sterling. From what he'd heard about Justine,

he'd expected that she would get in touch with her adored older brother sooner

or later, and he'd been glad for Sterling's sake that it had been only a few

weeks after Christmas when her first e-mail had arrived, but Audrey Baker had

seemed willing to follow her husband's lead, no matter what the cost to her

family.

“That's wonderful news,” he said sincerely. “Maybe with graduation

coming up, your mother realized that it was time to take a stand? She'd want

to be there and watch you; it's one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments for a

parent.”

“I kind of thought maybe she'd sneak away and come without saying

anything to my father,” Sterling said. “But my whole life that's all she's ever

done—go behind his back once in a while. You remember I told you that

Justine said they were fighting? I thought she was exaggerating or something,

but… He must be shitting bricks. Seriously, I can't believe it. I mean, I do,

because this is her handwriting…” He grinned at Owen. “But it's just—such a

surprise. I wish I could have been there to see her standing up to him.”

“I would have been applauding in the corner,” Owen said. “After years of

agreeing with him blindly, that must have been a huge first step for her to

take.” He patted Sterling's face. “One you took without hesitation, and thank

God you did.”

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His touch seemed to signal to Sterling that it was okay to feel emotional

about this—until then, he'd just seemed shocked. Now Sterling put his arms

around Owen and leaned in close. “I'm really happy,” he said. “Also stunned.

But happy.”

“I know.” Owen stroked Sterling's hair tenderly. “And at the risk of

sounding overly smitten, I'm happy that you're happy.”

“So let's go! Can we go? Please?” Freed from his reaction, Sterling was like

a puppy, full of energy, eyes bright.

Sterling like this was also in need of a firm hand. Loving, always, but firm.

Owen was delighted to see the sparkle back in his boy's eyes, but tonight was

important to them both, and he wanted Sterling in exactly the right head space

when they walked into the club.

He stepped back, deliberately putting some space between them. “Since

when is that how you ask me for something?”

Impossible to put real sternness into his voice, but the reproof wasn't

faked. Owen had spent a lot of time training Sterling until certain responses

were automatic, ingrained, but curbing Sterling's impatience, no matter how

much Owen shared it in this particular instance, was definitely a work in

progress.

Swallowing, Sterling dropped his gaze and crossed his wrists at his

waist—the more traditional position of hands behind his back had been altered

to accommodate his injured shoulder. “I'm sorry, Owen. I'm ready to leave

whenever it pleases you.”

Owen let the silence drag out and was more than pleased when Sterling

didn't start to fidget but instead went deeper into a calm acceptance of the

moment, his breathing slowing, no tension in his body as he waited for Owen.

“That's much better,” he said finally. “I think it's time we left, don't you?”

Sterling kept his eyes lowered, but Owen could see the smile curving his

lips. “Yes, Owen.”

It never ceased to amaze him how Sterling could make it plain that Owen's

name meant something entirely different used at times like this. Owen had

thought about using a more traditional form of address but realized that he'd

miss Sterling's respectful, adoring “Owen” far too much.

By the time they walked in the front door of the club, Sterling was fairly

vibrating with excitement. It was definitely the positive version of the emotion—

Sterling was looking forward to what might happen, not dreading it. The club

was crowded, most of the participants for the evening having arrived within the

last half hour or so, the air electric with anticipation. There were no tables

completely empty, but Owen spotted one near the dance floor with a free chair

and headed toward it.

Getting closer, he saw that one of the table's occupants was Elise, who

had a young woman kneeling next to her.

“Elise,” Owen said, nodding. “How are you?”

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217

“Fine. Happy to be here,” Elise said. “I heard things were working out with

your boy—I'm glad to see they weren't just rumors. Sit with me?”

Owen nodded. “Thank you. No, not rumors at all. Sterling?”

Sterling was already halfway to his knees, not needing to be told, but he

said, “Yes, Owen?”

“A drink for me. Club soda with a twist of lime, no ice.” He didn't ask if

Elise wanted something; if she did, the woman beside her would be fetching it.

Sterling straightened immediately and bowed his head before turning and

walking toward the bar, his back straight but, Owen was sure, his eyes

respectfully lowered. Sterling wouldn't be trying to catch anyone's attention

tonight.

“He's beautiful,” Elise said. “So much more at peace with himself than

when I last saw him.”

“I like to think so.”

Elise pursed her lips. “I heard about the business with that other one. Not

nice. Not nice at all, but you dealt with it well.” She leaned over the table and

tapped the back of his hand, hard enough to sting. “Better watch your boy

tonight. He's just too tempting wandering around looking like nobody owns

him.”

“The reminder really isn't necessary,” Owen said mildly. “As I'm sure you

know, because you know everything, my darling Elise, I'm about to make sure

that everybody knows exactly who Sterling belong to.”

“And who would that be?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

“He's mine,” Owen said, smiling at her. “And you knew
that
the first time

you saw him.”

There was no comment to make to that, of course, and Elise didn't try.

Owen looked around, evaluating the scene that was starting on the floor closest

to them. Two older men, the Dom with white hair and a stern expression, the

sub shirtless. The sub had tattoos all over him, the majority of his back and

one entire arm covered with ink, and Owen wondered idly how many of them

had been chosen by the Dom. If any; many of the people who came to the club

were partnered on some level, but plenty of them were just casual friends.

He turned to look for Sterling, who was just leaving the bar holding his

drink. Sterling's eyes weren't on the floor—reasonable considering he was

carrying a full glass—so Owen was able to see his expression change as his

steps faltered, gaze on someone near the door.

Kirk.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” Elise said, not at all softly.

Owen stood and went toward Sterling. “Put my drink on the table and

kneel beside it,” he said. “I'll handle this.”

With a grateful look, Sterling said, “Yes, Owen.”

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Kirk hadn't moved from just inside the door. He had to be aware that his

reception would be chilly, his presence unwelcome, and indeed he seemed

supremely uncomfortable. Good, Owen thought as he walked over. He should

have had better sense than to show up here.

By the time he reached Kirk, the man was standing alone; people had

pointedly turned and walked away from him, either to watch the scene on the

floor or because they'd noticed Owen's approach. This was his situation to deal

with, and no one would interfere, though Owen knew that if he needed it,

plenty of people would support him in word or action. Not that it would come to

that; the club wasn't free of drama, but a fistfight—no. Not here.

“Good evening, Kirk,” Owen said, keeping his voice conversational. He

looked around. “No Alex?”

Alex had, somewhat surprisingly, stayed with Kirk. Sterling had talked to

him about it, worried that his friend was at risk, a concern Owen shared, but

Alex had seemed confident that Kirk had learned his lesson. Owen wasn't sure

the dynamic between Kirk and Alex could survive; a sub had to respect and

trust his Dom, and he couldn't see how either emotion was possible when it

came to Kirk, but loyalty was another element to the relationship, and he gave

Alex points for that.

“He's waiting in the car,” Kirk said. He bit his lip, his gaze flickering

around the room like he was committing it to memory. “I didn't want him to see