"Care for a beer, lamb?"

Trenton was in the living room, locking the door, and Clive had gone into the kitchen. He smiled and called, "Are you having one?"

"I thought I might."

"Okay--that'd be good." Trenton had occasionally pushed to get beer when he was younger, nudging gently at the boundaries Clive had set, only to be met with firm resistance. He hadn't been displeased. It was comforting to know that there were set limits, and to know that they were there for a reason--not just because Clive felt like it. As soon as Trenton had turned eighteen the ban on alcohol had come down, but by then the urge to experiment had faded. Trenton didn't plunge into indulgence, as many boys his age did. He drank only on occasion, and never alone. The truth was, he just wasn't all that fond of the flavor. He much preferred a plain soda, though some of the funky-named mixed drinks that Scribe had introduced were rather tasty.

Trenton slipped the key back into his pocket as he went to the couch. Clive had given him a key to his apartment over a year ago, when they first became lovers. Clive had shared himself physically with many people, but he could be intensely private about his personal life. Trenton recognized the symbolic nature of the gift of the key, and he cherished it. He was the only person who was given free access to Clive's home--he was trusted.

Clive entered the room and sat beside Trent, passing over a bottle. They were both silent for a few moments, taking the first few sips. Clive set his bottle on the table and sighed, reaching down to begin unlacing his boots. Trenton immediately put down his own bottle and moved to kneel at Clive's feet. "Pet," Clive said quietly, "there's no need."

"I know," said Trenton simply. "But I want to. You going to tell me no?" He watched Clive shake his head, smiling faintly. "Then sit back." Clive did so as Trenton removed his boots, then slipped off his socks. The boy sat back on his heels, taking one of Clive's feet onto his thighs, and beginning to massage it. "Tired?"

"A little. I do love my boots, but God, darling, they're heavy by the end of the day."

"It's the steel toes, you know. Maybe you could consider having a few non-insurance grade pairs, just for around the house, or work."

Clive smiled as Trenton released one foot to begin on the other. Most submissives were very hesitant, even wary, of saying anything they thought might hint that their Dom was not the be-all and end-all of What Was Right on every subject. Trenton was thinking of Clive's well-being, so he spoke up: respectful--but he spoke up. "There's a thought. I suppose it would be all right. Even without the armor I could do a lot of damage, if necessary."

Trenton pressed a kiss to the arch of Clive's foot before releasing it and getting up. He toed off his own sneakers, stripping the socks to tuck them into the shoes. He resumed his seat, this time curling his legs up so that he was almost sitting sideways, his back against Clive's shoulder. He took another sip of beer, then put the bottle aside and let his head fall back on his lover's shoulder, giving a sigh of utter contentment.

Clive looked down at the dark head so close to his own. He lifted his hand and thoughtfully stroked Trenton's hair, letting his fingers sift through the soft curls, watching the red glints shoot in its depths, under the lamplight. Trenton's eyes were closed, his expression soft and unguarded. It was the expression of someone who felt totally safe--and at home. Clive loved to see him look like this. He hated the other expression that he'd seen so often in recent days--the tense, lost look that would come when it was time for Trenton to leave again. "Was your day good, lamb?" Trenton made an agreeing murmur. "Tell me."

Trenton didn't open his eyes. "Well, nothing special happened. I mean, it wasn't, like Christmas good, or birthday good, but it was--good. Mom was singing while she made breakfast. We've always done okay together, but Henderson... Henderson really seems to have given Mom something extra, you know? Sometimes she giggles worse than the freshman girls at school." He smiled. "I always thought she was beautiful, 'cause, well, she's my Mom--but she's pretty, Clive. You know?"

"Yes, dear. The right person can bring that out. Go on."

"Let's see... I was on time for all my classes, I was prepared..."

"And well you should have been."

"Yes, sir," his voice was playfully singsong. "And I aced a test in trig that had been bothering me, thanks to Bri's coaching. Coach Lowell didn't speak to either of us. He just glowered a lot, but I can handle that. I shaved another fraction of a second off my 50 meter. I'm almost positive I'll make the Olympic tryouts next year. Um, they had that goulash I like in the cafeteria at lunch. I got the last chocolate milk..." He cracked an eye and said quickly, "I counted that as my dessert." Clive nodded, and Trenton went on. "And pin curls were actually more fun than I thought they'd be. Hmm... Dinner from Elise was the usual feast, and..." his voice was proud, "that Polish Apple Cake I made was so popular that it was gone before I could have a piece." He chuckled. "She said the Lavender's Green crowd was doing their 'plague of locusts' imitation." He sighed, rolling his head to press a soft kiss to the base of Clive's throat. "And I got to come here with you. All in all, a pretty perfect day."

"Can you think of anything that would make it better?" Trenton rolled his head a bit more and looked up at him, wiggling his eyebrows. Clive smiled. "Besides that, precious."

"No, not really."

He was silent for a moment, then opened his mouth, but shut it again. "No, dear, go ahead and say it."

Trenton turned his head away. "Nothing."

Clive shifted, pushing Trent up into a sitting position, and gripped the boy's chin, directing him to look into his eyes. "You were going to say something." Trenton was blushing now, trying to avoid his gaze. "Tell me what it would take for this to be the perfect day."

"I... it's not important, Clive."

"Trenton, look at me." Reluctantly Trenton looked into Clive's eyes. He felt some of the apprehension that had begun to build inside him melt away at the warmth in that beloved brown gaze. "I cannot do my best for you," Clive said softly, "unless you tell me what you need, baby boy. Need, and want."

"I don't want to push."

There was a sadness in the boy's tone that plucked at Clive. "Trenton, if you're worried about pushing me away--don't. You can't do that, precious, believe it. Now, tell me."

Trenton took a breath. There was one thing that he'd wanted from the very beginning of this relationship, but he hadn't dared speak of it. Clive had already given him so much, and he was hesitant to ask for more, but... *But this is a need--soul deep.* "I... if I just didn't have to go back to the apartment tomorrow... it would be perfect. If I didn't have to go back at all... except to visit..." He trailed off.

Clive stroked his chin with his thumb. "If you lived here."

Trenton could feel tears moistening the corners of his eyes. "I know I'm selfish..."

Clive pulled him into his arms, tucking the boy's head down into the crook of his neck. "No, lamb, you're not. I'm the selfish one. I've known what I need to do for a long time, but I've been holding back, telling myself that I was being thoughtful, trying to be sure what was right for you. I'm going to ask you a question, and I don't want you to answer right away. I want you to just sit here and let me hold you while you think for a little bit. This isn't a decision to be made lightly."

There was a brief, bright, unreasoning stab of terror and pain as Trenton thought, *He's going to tell me it's over.*

Then Clive was saying, "Trenton, would you like to move in here, and live with me?"

Trenton's eyes flew wide in wondering shock. He abruptly clutched at Clive, needing the solid anchor of the Dom's body to reassure him that he hadn't imagined this--this thing that he'd wanted for so long. He felt Clive's hands, big and sure, stroking over his back, and he started to cry.

Tears had not been entirely unexpected. Clive knew that Trenton was an emotional little thing--it was part of what made him so talented in dramatics, and role-playing. But the good emotions, the real ones that had just been tapped, could be so intense that they were painful. So he simply held his boy, reassuring him with his touch and gentle, meaningless sounds of love.

After a few moments Trenton stopped crying. His face still streaked with tears, he looked up at Clive, searching the Dom's face. He didn't really believe that Clive would be so cruel as to toy with him in such a manner, but he had to be sure--and he was. There was as much love and acceptance in his lover's eyes as there had ever been, but somehow they seemed just a little deeper, a little sweeter. And far at the back, there was the tiniest hint of anxiety. Trenton suddenly felt the power that he'd always been told that a submissive possessed. Clive had told him that many people outside their life didn't realize just how much control a submissive gained when they gave up control to a loving, responsible Dom.

Trenton kissed Clive, then rested his cheek against the older man's forehead. "Yes, Clive. Oh, yes, yes, yes. This would be..."

"It will be your home, love. Yours, and mine. Is Lynette ready?"

Trenton sat back a little and answered him seriously. "Yes. She might not have been a few months ago, but now--yes. She has Henderson. I mean, I know it's not like replacing a puppy..." Clive smiled at this, pinching his butt, and Trenton chuckled. "But she won't feel alone now. And... and I think she's been expecting this." He gave Clive a shy smile. "I think she's been wondering what was taking you so long."

Clive rolled his eyes, but said, "You got that impression too, did you? I think there's been a time or two she was just about ready to have a talk with me. I'm glad that I decided to move before she put her dainty foot up my leather-clad butt."

"When?"

There was such eager joy in the single word that Clive had to hug him again. "Soon. We don't want to show unseemly haste, love. Tomorrow or the next day we will speak to the lovely Lynette and get her official dispensation, then we can begin transferring your belongings--gradually. You live close enough that if we don't get everything vital in the first trip, and I have no desire to kill either of us by engaging in activities more suited to a pack mule, it will be readily accessible." When there was a hint of hesitation in Trenton's nod, Clive jounced him lightly. "But our first trip will be to bring most of your clothes and all your school things, so that you can stay here comfortably. I'm not putting this off, Trent."

Trenton pressed his face to Clive's chest, hugging him and rubbing his cheek against the silky texture. "I'm scared."

Surprise colored Clive's voice. "Precious, whatever for?"

"It's everything I've ever wanted, Clive. Our philosophy lecturer told us that perfection is not possible in this imperfect world. If anything perfect ever came into existence, then it was doomed by its very nature. It couldn't be."

"Pfft. And there you have my opinion of most philosophy--at least that which is taught to freshman and sophomore classes. Trenton, dearest, the only philosophy worth having is that which you develop yourself, through observation and life experience. And besides, lover," his voice was grave, "this relationship isn't perfect." Before Trenton could speak, Clive said, "Oh, I grant you that it's as near as anything you're likely to find on this weary old planet, but it isn't. You, my treasure, can be an absolute brat sometimes, and I... I make mistakes." Trenton started to protest again, and Clive said firmly, "No, love. I do. There are some areas of my life where I have been an utter fool, and not snatching you to my bosom ages ago is one of them. I've known for a long time that you aren't just IN my life--you ARE my life, and still I kept that little distance between us. I honestly can't say what I was thinking of, Trent, but I've seen my error now, and I'm acting on it. To be sloppily romantic, and quote poetry, 'Come live with me, and be my love...' And I'm not going into the rest of it, because the bloody poet was a shepherd who was going to drag his love off to some sort of pastoral frolic. But you get the idea."

Trenton grinned at him. "I promise not to tell anyone you quoted Marlowe."

Clive waved his hand dismissively. "You may tell Bettina if you like--she'll think I'm quoting a hard-boiled detective." Clive stood, picking up the two bottles. "And now I think it's time for bed." When Trenton reached for the beer bottles, Clive said, "No, I'll take care of this. You go on and get into bed." Still holding a bottle, he brushed the back of his knuckles down Trenton's cheek. "You're tired, precious. The long, thick eyelashes are drooping over those pretty green eyes."

"I don't know why I am."

"I do. Emotions can be as exhausting as physical labor--you'll learn that in time." Trenton nodded, going into the bedroom. Clive threw the empties in the trash, then went to the bedroom. He paused just outside the door, a full, warm feeling welling up inside him. His lover was waiting for him in their bed--not his bed--their. He went in.

Trenton was under the sheets, his clothes in a neat pile on the dresser. The room was dark, except for a very pale glow that escaped from under the closed bathroom door, but this scene was familiar to Clive--he had seen it many times before. Clive came over and sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to trace the lines of Trenton's face. Trenton reached up and caught Clive's hand, pressing a kiss to the palm.

Again Clive said, "You're tired, Trent. Would you like to postpone making love?" Trenton bit his lip doubtfully. "Darling, remember that you're not a sex slave--you're my lover. You don't have to bend and spread on demand. True intimacy is more than just sex, Trenton. You know that."

Trenton nodded. "Could we just hold each other tonight? I'd like that."

"So would I."

Clive stripped and got into bed, then held out his arms. Trenton moved up against him, settling into the shelter that his older lover offered, throwing an arm possessively over Clive's waist. Clive kissed his lips, then his hair, and lay back on the pillow, gently rubbing the young man's shoulder. After a moment Trenton said sleepily, "It's nice--belonging to someone."

"Yes, love," said Clive. "It is."