Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Santiago Jones

As entertaining as it had been to watch Gael on camera, it had nothing on this. About two weeks had passed since I’d first introduced myself to him, and I remembered him needing the frigid cold from outside to keep from becoming too overwhelmed. He’d needed to freeze, shiver, and shake in order to process what I was telling him. He’d stammered and blushed and hesitated.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and traces of Gael’s timidity obviously lingered. It’d be weird if they didn’t; two weeks was nothing. Besides, I loved that blush—and every shy grin. But watching him now at the bar with Tate and Cam revealed the boy he’d been before Caleb. He was carefree and chatty, reveling in his budding friendships, and he looked at Tate as if he were the older, cooler boy at school. Not unlike how Gael observed Shay and Macklin.

One by one, the subs had left with two containers of pasta, with over-the-shoulder goodbyes about when to meet up next time, see you on Thursday, I’ll DM you online, see you at the Academy event, and so on. And now, Gael was one of them. He was making plans with people.

For this, I had zero issues staying in the background. It made me so fucking happy to watch him thrive.

Dean and I kept Gael’s two food containers on our table. We’d promised not to open them.

Macklin had offered us a table in one of the dining rooms after the class, but we were very content right here. The bar offered lounge furniture instead, rock music, the cheese plate was incredible, and the wine was nearby. Dean had offered to drive, so this guy was on his fourth glass of red.

Before I returned my attention to Dean, I spotted Macklin and Walker coming out from the kitchen, and based on the disarray of the boy’s hair, I could guess what they’d been up to in the office.

Walker was leaving, whereas Macklin was staying for work. He eased right into Tate, Cam, and Gael’s conversation and poured them more wine. Or a mocktail for Gael, who beamed when he received a Sprite with an umbrella and something that slowly dyed the soda blue.

I smiled to myself and kissed Dean’s shoulder. Sitting side by side, we could watch our boy laugh and chat with his new friends all night long if we wanted. It was nearing nine, and the place was almost packed.

“Did you try this one, cariño?” I put a piece of soft Saint Agur on a honey-walnut cracker for him.

He leaned forward. “Feed me.”

I grinned and brought the snack to his lips.

He chewed and nodded slowly. “Almost as good as that other one—which was it with the clementine preserves?”

“The aged cheddar.” I wasn’t surprised to hear he’d liked the preserves; my Werther’s man had one hell of a sweet tooth. The cheese board came with three kinds, clementine preserves, fig jam, and a black cherry conserve. As if that wasn’t enough, Macklin offered crumbled bacon, grapes, the sweetest pears I’d ever tasted, and four types of crackers to go with the eight cheeses.

“Sorry to intrude, fellas.” Walker came over as he buttoned his coat. “Just thought I’d say goodbye. I have another hour or two of work to look forward to.”

Work at this hour? Hell. But I knew both he and Macklin kept busy. It was a good thing Walker’s office was right across the street.

“You work too much, little brother,” Dean said.

“I’ve never heard that before,” Walker chuckled.

“You could listen for a change,” Dean drawled.

“I’m workin’ on it.” Walker smirked. “I have a couple bigger projects about to start, but things won’t be as busy as they were in Boston. That’s something, right?”

Dean wasn’t impressed.

Walker turned to me instead. “What time are y’all headin’ out to Mclean on Thursday?”

I exchanged a glance with Dean. “We said around five…?”

He inclined his head.

“Around five—we’ll grab an early dinner on the way,” I replied to Walker.

He nodded. “I reckon Macklin and I will be there around then, too.”

Yeah, I was definitely excited to see more of him, preferably pressed up against me. Tonight’s innocent peep show in Macklin’s office had just resulted in a few lingering looks between Walker, Dean, and me—nothing said, nothing acted upon—but I sensed we were all looking forward to the event. I wanted to see Macklin and Gael together, Macklin and Dean and Gael, I wanted to be sandwiched between Dean and Walker, and I wanted…shit, a lot of things. Walker had told me quite a bit about Franklin too. He seemed to be an interesting character.

Unbeknownst to our subs, we’d joined a group chat—it included Macklin since he was putting it all together—and we’d exchanged limits and agreed to the safety measures already.

We had a similar chat for the themed event on Saturday, which would be my first. Mclean House Academy. The plans were underway, everything was ready, and our subs kept asking for details online.

Once Walker had left, Dean and I sank back into our little bubble, and I asked if he had any expert advice on how these events worked. I mean, I sure as hell saw the appeal for the Doms who got to taunt the brats by withholding information, and the banter had reached a new level in the online community the last couple of days. But I didn’t wanna be in a brat’s shoes. I wanted to know everything beforehand.

“It’s actually my first event too,” Dean admitted.

“Really?” That was a surprise. “But you’ve been a member for years, haven’t you?”

“I mean for this Game theme they’re doing,” he amended. “I think they started that in June last year—something like that. Maybe July. Either way, I wasn’t here then. The year before, they did more of a demo theme for twelve monthly events. I participated in a few of those.”

Ah, that made more sense. I knew they liked to switch things up at Mclean, something I’d missed in my previous communities. Granted, we’d had occasional events, much like Mclean still ran event nights outside this Game theme, but we’d lacked an upper management that lived and breathed the lifestyle. Now I was finally a part of something like that, and I couldn’t wait to get more involved.

“Did you see Reese’s latest update for the subjects?” Dean asked.

I nodded and chuckled. “It looks like I’m gonna be a PE coach with Greer and Colt.”

He grinned faintly. “I saw that. And to no one’s surprise, I’m a professor in history.”

Along with Kingsley, yeah. It was going to be fun. Holy hell, were we gonna piss off brats.

Tomorrow, the subs were getting their acceptance letters to the Academy, including information on dress code. Thank fuck I was a coach, because otherwise I’d have to dig through Dean’s closet for appropriate clothes.

“I hope someone’s filming.” I reached for my wine and threw a couple grapes into my mouth. “I don’t wanna miss anything.”

“We should film Gael when he gets his letter.” Dean grinned.

“Fuck, absolutely. I’ll keep him busy till you come home from work.” I’d already told Reese to use my address for Gael’s letter.

Dean smiled and leaned in, and I kissed him.

“In the spirit of full honesty, I love the sound of that. Till I get home from work.”

Fuck me. He really was coming around. It was impossible to kill my smile, and I bet we looked as cheesy as I wanted us to be. We brushed our lips together again, and I took a deep breath and just…fucking loved the moment.

* * *

“Also, before I forget,” Gael yawned. “Can I go with Cam after work next week? We’re gonna buy pasta makers, and he needs new swimwear for their cruise in a few weeks.”

I’d heard about the cruise. Colt and Lucas had let me know there was still time to join, and I was sorely tempted, but…maybe it would be too soon, and I wasn’t sure Dean could take time off work.

“What day are you heading out with Cam?” I glanced at him in the rearview and grinned to myself. He’d had such a big day that he was about to fall asleep.

“Um, we were thinking Tuesday, ’cause we know Kit doesn’t work then, and we wanna ask him to tag along.” Gael leaned against the window and closed his eyes. “Today was so awesome.”

I reached across the center console and grabbed Dean’s hand, and he gave mine a squeeze.

“Tuesday sounds great,” I answered.

Dean glanced back at our boy, his expression pensive, though he didn’t say anything.

A vacation together could wait. Now that we were all on the same page, it would do us some good to settle into new routines, finding a balance between the sleepovers I’d grown addicted to and accepting that they had their own places. Plus, they worked in town. Maybe I’d suggest we stay at Dean’s condo soon.

“I want to give him a credit card,” Dean said quietly. “Do you think it’s too soon?”

I side-eyed him. “You’re thinkin’ about the pasta maker?”

He nodded. “I don’t want him to pay for things he’ll use when he’s serving us.”

It was a good idea. I hadn’t thought that far myself; I’d assumed we’d give him cash for shit he bought that would undoubtedly end up at my house, but a credit card was better. We wouldn’t have to make sure he always had money, in case he stumbled upon something.

“We can discuss it with him tomorrow,” I replied, switching on the turn signal. “If he’s uncomfortable with it, we’ll settle for cash for now.”

I flicked another glance in the rearview. Sweet boy, if he wasn’t asleep, he was mere seconds away.

“Speaking of things that might be too soon…” I slowed down as our exit came up. “You hear about the cruise they’re all going on in April?” Well, technically, they set sail at the very end of March.

He narrowed his eyes, thinking, then nodded slowly. “Yes, Walker and Macklin are going.”

That didn’t surprise me.

“I’m afraid it would be difficult for me to get away from work,” Dean replied. “But if you and Gael—”

“Hey—” I frowned and shook my head. “No. While I think it’s important we create our own connections—you and me, you and Gael, me and him—I’d prefer if we took our vacations together.”

He grabbed my hand again and kissed it. “No argument from me. Maybe we can do something else? I can’t be gone four or five days, but I do have a cabin of my own, you know. We could go up there that weekend.”

Oh hell, I’d forgotten about that. I’d never been there, of course, but he’d shared a story once how he’d written one of his first books there. If I remembered correctly, the cabin was in Pennsylvania.

I could think of worse things than cozying it up with Dean and Gael for a whole weekend.

* * *

I checked the time as I carried my laptop over to the kitchen table. Okay, good. Lunchtime on the West Coast. I was done with my own work, so now I could continue not buying the bullshit Caleb was selling—until Gael and Dean came home.

I poured myself a cup of coffee too.

Once I was seated, General trailed into the kitchen, stretched out a bit, and then went over to his water bowl.

You better tolerate dogs one day, friend.

It was becoming clear that I was the minority in our triad. To be fair, Dean and Gael both liked dogs as well, but they were currently owned by a cat.

General eventually trailed over to me, and he pressed himself up against my leg and circled it.

“Little daddy will be home in an hour, and big Daddy in about three,” I told…a fucking cat. Great, I was talking to a cat.

Before I logged on to Facebook, I checked my phone for messages. It was the first time Gael was borrowing my truck, and she could be cranky to drive sometimes. She had…quirks. But I’d warned him, and the drive into town this morning had gone off without a hitch.

“All right, let’s see where you are, motherfucker.” I went to Caleb’s profile, and, like clockwork, he’d just posted his lunch photo.

Enjoy your shitty salad.

I clicked on the photo and saved it, then opened it in another software to check the metadata. Time stamp, same device as always, location. I hummed and took another swig of my coffee. So far, so good. He was in California—unless, and this was highly unlikely, he had someone else taking fresh photos and posting them for him. I mean, it was possible, but it didn’t fit his profile one bit. He was a pain in the ass, not a master criminal.

I did have an ace up my sleeve for occasional double-checks. I had access to his credit card activity, and—

My phone rang, the display lighting up with Gael’s goofy grin, and it got me every goddamn time. I smiled and answered the call.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi! I’m just about to wrap up at work,” he said, a little out of breath. “It’s been so busy today! But I wanted to call and ask if there’s anything you want me to buy on the way?”

I glanced over at the kitchen island, where I had everything prepped for dinner. “Nope, we’re all good. I just need you and Dean here.”

“Then I’ll be on my way in five minutes! See you soon, Sir!”

“Soon, querido.” I ended the call and released a breath.

They’d already become the fixture that turned my house into a home. Nowadays, I was working my way through contracts and tasks in order to just be done, to be able to shift my attention to the future—whether that future was later in the afternoon when I saw Gael and Dean again, or it was further down the road. Dreams, plans, changes to the backyard, vacations, what our living situation might look like one day.

For twenty years, work had kept me going. Work had been everything. Starting when I got my first beat as a rookie cop to when I made detective. It took all my energy, all my focus, and it distracted me from fading visions and diminishing hope. I couldn’t fucking go back to that—not even an ounce of it. Because if I’d learned one thing since I’d managed to drag Gael and Dean into my fold, it was that my life looked a whole lot brighter when I had those two to share it with. And whenever I was home alone, like right now, I was just waiting. I functioned on autopilot to finish our renovations, and I worked like I was supposed to, but I had an impatient guy sitting in the back of my head checking his watch and counting down the minutes till the door opened.

I needed music. It was too quiet here.

“Alexa, play the playlist Not Approved by Dean on Spotify,” I said.

She obeyed like Dean didn’t.

He could bitch and moan when he got here. He put up with my Latin pop and rock but drew the line at what he referred to as bro country. He called it nonsense—or worse, boybands missing their bandmembers and wailing about it.

Even Dean had his flaws.

To make time go faster, I checked the online forum on my phone and got a quick chuckle when I saw Nora had changed our dynamic. She’d listed herself as my Owner on her profile. Fucking wonderful. That only meant one thing: the brat wanted attention.

I shot her a DM.

I’ll keep listing myself as your brat tamer on my page, even though I’m clearly doing a shit-poor job at it. How you doing, honey?

She’d been recruited from another community, just like I had. We’d become reluctant friends last year at an event—and reluctant wasn’t the right word. We just didn’t have much in common, nor did we move in the same circles, until now. She’d tended to stick to her lesbian group of friends or a kink community called Old Town, and I’d…had work. And yet, we’d met by accident at a party, and we’d ended up talking all night. I’d sort of become her older brother over months of texting and occasional coffee meetups, and she’d turned into my mother. She was a good kid. We didn’t talk often, but she texted every now and then to make sure I ate and slept.

I sipped my coffee and scrolled through the comments in The Game group. A few subs had posted photos of the acceptance letters they’d received today.

Damn, Gael better not have seen this already.

Ah, Noa. His comment made me chuckle.

OK SO I GOT THIS IN THE MAIL AND DADDY SAID, I GUESS THEY LET ANYBODY IN. THANKS?!

KC knew exactly how to handle his boy, that much was clear.

Tate had posted a comment as well.

I’m just going to say one thing. Fuck yes, dress code! We’re going to be a stylish bunch on Saturday!

I smirked at the next one from Sloan.

Remember, brats. Any offenses will be reported to Headmaster Walker and Headmistress Penelope.

And Corey’s that followed…

@TheMechanic Don’t be such a snitch, Daddy. (I’m so gonna pay for that!)

Shay was sharp. He asked the right question.

Define offenses, Sir…

Unfortunately for him, right and wrong didn’t matter—because Greer delivered the response of a Sadist.

@LilFighterpup, that’s none of your business.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun. Gael’s acceptance letter waited for him in a cupboard where I’d hidden it.

I drank some more of my coffee, just in time for my DM icon to get that little red dot, indicating a new message. Nora had replied.

I’m boooored. And sort of embarrassed. I tried to friend Mistress Penelope, and she denied the request. :| I’m hoping it’s because she only friends people she actually knows, but IDK. Otherwise, life is great or something! How are you, Busy Bee Daddy? Your triad is all over the gossip news.

Hm. I couldn’t speak for Penelope, though I bet that stung. Nora had harbored a crush on Penelope for a while. It was one of the reasons Nora had joined Mclean.

I messaged her back.

I’ll put in a good word for you with Pen on Saturday. Life is great or something? You know what I think about vague answers. Spill.

Let them talk. I’m very happy with everyone knowing Dean and Gael are mine. ;)

In fact… Once I’d sent the DM, I went back to my profile and added two dynamics.

Daddy of @Button

Ruler of @TheHistorian

There. That felt ridiculously good. And if Gael saw the notification immediately, maybe it would distract him from the messages raining down in the event group.

Or send him straight there.

* * *

“Are these good, Daddy?”

I glanced over at him and inspected his work. “Even smaller, baby. You want it as finely chopped as possible.”

“Got it!” He gathered the pile of chopped carrots and began cutting them into smaller pieces. “Soffritto—am I saying that right?”

“Perfectly. That’s what you make from battuto.” I grinned to myself and dumped the chopped celery into the pan. “Soffritto is the finished result.”

“Ohhh.” He bobbed his head in understanding, and possibly because he couldn’t stop moving when music was playing. “And it’s the base of some sort in the food—I’m learning.”

Yeah, he sure was. It made me stupidly happy that he wanted to cook with me.

Every now and then, he ran over to the kitchen window because “Daddy was late.”

I couldn’t deny that I loved that he called Dean Daddy sometimes, more so than the Master title. But that was only because my fetish was my fetish. It appealed to me more than regular D/s. Additionally, Dean was turning into a wonderful Daddy. I mean, Gael was developing that side of Dean. To my knowledge, he’d never identified as a Daddy before.

“Four minutes late now,” Gael huffed and returned to the island. “I want him to see the dynamic stuff right this second!”

“He’s probably stuck in traffic,” I reasoned.

“As long as he doesn’t check the forum before—I don’t wanna miss his reaction.” He snickered to himself, still finding it hilarious that I’d listed myself as Dean’s ruler.

In return, Gael had added us to his profile too, and he’d had the sweetest smile on his face while doing it. He was our boy and property.

I remembered when MySpace and Facebook became the next big thing, but social media had never really spoken to me. I’d started account after account, constantly forgetting my email and password. And here I was today, all but giddy about status changes.

I shook my head to myself.

You’re forty-two, man.

Oh, whatever. I was happy. The dynamics were a public declaration, though more than that, a testament to us. To me. We were doing this; we wanted to be together. It was real.

By the time Gael was done with the carrots, I was adding the onion to the pan, and that was when we heard a car pull in.

“He’s here!” Gael gasped. Then he was sprinting out of the kitchen.

Looked like I didn’t have to distract him from the event group after all. So far, not a word about the acceptance letters.

“Hi, Daddy, you’re late! Late is unacceptable!”

Dean laughed gruffly. “I said I’d be home around six, didn’t I? How are you, my peach?”

I listened to them greeting each other while I put the pan on the stove and poured some olive oil into the mixture. I had to rub my jaw too, because I’d been smiling too much lately. Their fault, obviously. Gael’s excitement—but also his politeness and concern for others. He always wanted to know how work had been, what we were doing, how things worked, and if everything was good. He cared so genuinely, and he was constantly on standby to help out.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so cool,” he was saying. “I’m gonna watch all the other documentaries with you in them next week. I tracked them all down!”

He made people feel special and important.

I upped the heat a bit and shifted the bowls with the other ingredients closer to the stove. Ground lamb, Italian sausage, mushrooms, bell peppers, the tomato sauce I’d prepared earlier today, herbs and spices—

“I forgot to tell you about the best thing that happened today,” I heard Dean say. I peered out toward the hallway but could only see the back of Gael’s head. “Your lunch. The pasta was amazing, baby.”

I grinned, glad I’d waited with mine. I’d tasted both kinds Gael had made at the class, and I’d decided to freeze mine until next week when I knew I had a lot of work. Four new contracts, one of them from the government. I’d need my arsenal of pick-me-ups.

A few seconds later, Gael and Dean emerged, and the latter smiled at me and walked over.

He hugged me from behind and kissed my neck, all while Gael rambled about the documentaries Dean had participated in over the years.

“So you’re my ruler, huh?” he murmured close to my ear.

I set down the spatula and turned around in his arms. “Good, you saw it.”

He hummed and kissed me. “If you act like a brat, I ought to punish you like one too.”

I chuckled, teasing the tip of my tongue against his. “Sounds like a good time to me. Maybe you can fuck me really hard and put me in my place.”

That one amused him. “I said punish, not reward.”

“Are you listening, Daddies?” Gael grated out. “This is important stuff. It’s Master’s entire catalogue! I have it here in my phone.”

“We’re listening,” I chuckled into the kiss. Then I dropped my tone again and spoke for only Dean to hear. “Now, where were we on that reward?”

His smirk formed slowly, and he nipped at my bottom lip. “How about I fuck you as hard as I adore you?”

Jesus.

I shivered and locked my arms around his neck, and we deepened the kiss. Hell, I fucking melted against him, and lust burned through me as I tasted him. Maybe Gael and I should join Dean in the shower. He always wanted to take a shower after work, and dinner wouldn’t be ready for a while anyway.

“Mmm…but it’s gonna have to wait,” he said, slowing the kiss down. Wait, what? “I want us properly riled up for tomorrow.”

What the flying fuck. I might not be twenty anymore, or thirty, but come on. We’d done something every night we’d spent together so far. Whether it was just a blow job or a long, hard, sweaty fuck, there’d been something.

“You can’t make that decision,” I protested. “I’m your ruler.”

Dean let out a laugh.

And Gael ran over to us. “I heard ruler! Did you already see, Master? Mine also?”

“I did,” Dean chuckled and hugged the boy to him. “I’ll admit, I couldn’t stop smiling.”

“That’s the goal.” Our boy offered his signature goofy grin.

Since there wouldn’t be any “unboxing reaction” where Dean initially saw that I was now his ruler, we might as well go to the next best thing. Actually, it would be even better. Perhaps it would distract me from the devastating notion of going without sex until tomorrow night too.

“On a semi-related topic, you got a letter today, Gael.” I walked over to the corner cabinet where I’d stashed the letter. “I asked Reese to send it to my house.”

“Huh?” He was one part nervous and four parts curious as I held out the envelope to him.

It was the fancy stuff. Black envelope with a red wax seal on it, and Lucas and Sloan had put together a logo for the academy. Sloan being an illustrator and tattoo artist, Lucas being a graphic designer. Mclean House went all out. The logo could not look more prestigious and official—except when you looked closer, some details stood out. Two majestic horses flanked the MH for Mclean House, and the skirts of the tails had been replaced by floggers. The lines that framed “Academy” were made of rope, and you could spot two sets of handcuffs in the vinery along the sides.

“Oh my gosh.” Gael brushed a finger over the embossed logo, his nervousness fading. He knew it was about the event.

Dean stepped back and brought out his phone, presumably to film.

“Read it out loud, baby,” I told the boy.

“Yes, Sir.” Gael opened the letter and pulled it out, and the front read Acceptance Letter. Then he unfolded it. “‘Dear Little Gael Grimes, we are delighted to inform you that you’ve been accepted at Mclean House Academy.’” He snapped his head up and beamed. “This is so cool—but I don’t remember applying!”

I cracked up and absently stirred the vegetables on the stove.

“Oh—are you filming, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Dean chuckled. “Keep going.”

Gael flushed, half scowling, half grinning, and dropped his gaze. “‘After extensive interviews with your Owners, we are confident that you will suffer sufficiently in our care.’ I have no doubt!” He snickered. “Classes begin on Saturday, and you will report to Headmaster McKenna and Headmistress Darling in the Great Hall at 5 PM. There, you will meet your Professors and Coaches. Welcome to Mclean House Academy. Don’t be late.’ And, um…there’s a bunch of information down here,” he mumbled, squinting. “Oh, there’s a dress code—but I think I have all this. White button-down, black underwear, black shoes. No pants?”

“You’ll be provided with dress shorts and a tie there,” I replied. “Does it say anything about the subjects?”

“Umm…” He shifted from one foot to the other, then grinned sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. Geometry, history, English, PE, and biology. But I suck at math, Daddyyy. Can I only take history?”

Dean rumbled a chuckle, and I shook my head in amusement.

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.