Page 62 of Disciplinary Action
Gideon gave him a maddening grin. “Oh, but you’re not allowed, remember? You came without my permission the other day. That means you don’t get to come again until I say.”
“You let me come yesterday,” Cal reminded, his hips desperately pumping into Gideon’s fist, the plug inside him only adding to his frustration as it was just enough to make him hard but not enough to get him off.
“Yesterday was an exception. You were upset.”
“I’m upset now,” Cal whined. “Please. Please, Daddy. I’ve been good,” Cal said. “Wasn’t I good for you tonight?”
Gideon stroked him faster, and Cal gave another throaty moan. “You were so good for me, baby. So good. But Daddy makes the rules. If I make an exception now, you won’t have any incentive to follow my rules later.”
Gideon’s hand disappeared.
“I will, though. I promise. I swear, Daddy. Please,” Cal begged, his hips humping the air before pressing himself back into the mattress. If he moved just right, the plug pressed against his prostate, sending sparks along his insides. Could he come just from that alone?
“I said no,” Gideon said sternly.
Cal sucked his teeth, glowering at Gideon, knowing he was pouting but unable to stop himself. Cal thought about just going into the bathroom and getting himself off. Would Gideon even know? Probably. It was like he could smell it on Cal. “You’re mean.”
Gideon pressed on the plug, driving it deeper, putting it just where Cal needed it. “You haven’t even begun to see mean,” Gideon said. “If you are a good boy and go to sleep right now, I might let you come before school tomorrow. But if you keep giving me lip, I’ll make sure you don’t come again for a month. Understand?”
Cal gawked at him. “I—” Gideon arched a brow. Cal sighed. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy,” Gideon said with a chuckle. “Now, tell me you love me.”
Cal’s agitation melted away as he gazed at Gideon. “I love you, Daddy.”
Gideon pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you too, little bird.”
Gideon woke to find the sun in his eyes and his bed empty. His bed was never empty. If he was lucky, he woke to Cal snuggled against him, but most mornings, he woke to find Cal snuggled against Alexa and Alexa snoring in Gideon’s face, her sharp doggie claws poking at his ribs. But today, he woke to nothing. No Callum. No Alexa. They were gone.
Gideon fumbled for his glasses as he lurched from the bed, the sun temporarily blinding him. “Callum? Alexa?”
Nothing. Only silence—a piercing silence that made his ears ring to the point of madness. Maybe Cal had left for school early and left Alexa with the front desk? But why? How? There’s no way Gideon wouldn’t have heard him. He went to the closet and yanked the doors open hard enough to rattle the hinges, stumbling back when he saw Cal’s belongings in his side of the closet were gone, replaced by Gideon’s things.
Gideon raced through the loft looking for any trace of Callum. His meds were gone, his testing kit, his backpack. Those stupid goldfish crackers he insisted on having and the dragon fruit he loved that cost Cal a fortune. All gone. Alexa’s things were gone, too. Her outlandishly expensive dog food, her dog bed, the stupid little doggie pajamas Cal had insisted she needed. There was nothing.
Gideon raced downstairs to the front desk where a day shift clerk he’d never seen before sat staring straight ahead at ten screens filled with nothing but digital snow. “Have you seen Callum or Alexa?”
The man turned dull eyes towards him. “Who?”
Gideon made a noise of frustration, heading towards the parking garage. Cal said he’d slept there those nights he was homeless. He slept on the concrete floor of the parking garage just to be closer to Gideon. Gideon’s heart felt like it was fracturing into a million pieces. What was happening here? His pulse raced, his chest painfully tight, his body coated in sweat as he ran frantically through the parking garage in nothing but his navy blue sleep pants.
But he wasn’t there either.
He wasn’t anywhere. He wasn’t gone. He wasn’t missing. Cal hadn’t just left. Somebody had erased him from Gideon’s life, sanitized the boy’s existence from his home, like he was in some kind of spy thriller where the lead finds his entire life has been an elaborate lie.
He pushed open the door from the garage to the building, determined to make the front desk man talk, but the ground floor of the building wasn’t on the other side of the door. He was on the roof of his building, which seemed to tower over all the other buildings in the city. Another impossible feat given that Gideon’s building only had six floors. But that wasn’t the only impossible thing happening on the roof.
“Grant?” Gideon whispered.
His husband stood at the ledge, looking as crisp and somber as Gideon remembered, dressed in gray slacks and a pale blue sweater. He turned and smiled at Gideon, the wind catching his silver hair, blowing it off his face. It couldn’t be.
“Leo,” he said in that cold, almost condescending manner he had, like Gideon couldn’t survive without him and it was adorable that he even tried. It was the tone that always set Gideon’s teeth on edge, that made him feel weak and ashamed.
“Gideon?”
It wasn’t Grant who spoke but Callum, now standing on the ledge in his uniform, tipping precariously backwards. The only thing keeping him from slipping into the abyss was Grant’s hand fisted in Cal’s uniform shirt.
Gideon stumbled forward. “Please, don’t.”
