"Precious," Clive said, "You're going to need to face down that asshole you stay with sooner or later. Sneaking around like this is no way to live."

Bryant was half out of the car and he paused, not looking back. "Hell, I know that. I'm not living--I'm existing."

Trenton laid his hand on Bryant's back, rubbing. "You deserve more than that, Bri. Just remember, if you need anything, even if it's just to talk, Clive and I are here."

"Thanks."

Clive pulled away as Bryant started down the sidewalk. Trenton grabbed at his arm saying urgently, "Wait! I want to watch to see he gets home okay."

"So do I, dear, and we're not going to do it. We're going to leave him his pride and his dignity--two things which I have a feeling have been under attack for a long, long time."

Trenton turned, kneeling in the seat to peer out the back window. Bryant was easy to see, even though the street was dark. He was living proof of the safety admonition that wearing white clothes after dark made you more visible. Trenton watched him till they turned a corner, then turned and sat back down, leaning his head against Clive's shoulder. "I'm worried about him."

Clive patted his thigh. "I know, pet. The more I hear about this Priory person, the less I like him. But Bryant is a strong person. He just hasn't discovered it yet."

It was no secret when Priory came home. Bryant heard him even before he got out of the car. His arrival was announced by thumping music ('Glory Days'), and the screech of tires as he swerved around the corner. Luckily he'd slowed down enough to avoid running into the backyard fence when he pulled into the driveway, though the suddenly mushy sound his tires made announced the fact that he'd drifted off onto the lawn again.

There was the slam of a car door, loud enough to wake all the neighbors that the blaring radio hadn't. It took him at least three trys to get his key in the lock, judging from the muffled swearing. Once inside he tripped over the coffee table that was in the same place it had been for the last three years. Then he kicked the offending furniture and swore even harder when he bruised his two. Bryant sighed, pulling a pillow over his head. Same song, second verse. And third verse, and fourth verse, and fifth verse...

Priory hesitated in the hallway outside Bryant's door, and Bryant felt a sour rush of apprehension. He started coughing. He heard the click of beads as Priory stared to part the curtain, and put a phlegmy rasp into it. It hurt his throat, but it had worked before (Priory was an awful hypochondriac), and he was desperate. He knew that he'd throw up if Priory touched him after the beautiful, sensual experience with Trenton and Clive.

Priory didn't move. Bryant made his voice sound clogged and called out, "Pri? Could you bring me some Milk of Magnesia? I don't know what's wrong, but I've had to go to the bathroom six times tonight, and..."

"Check your fucking medicine chest, you baby," Priory slurred. Bryant heard the beads clash together and the heavy stumble of Priory's footsteps move on down the hall. Relieved, he turned over on his belly, pulling his pillow up under his chin in his most comfortable thinking position.

Clive and Trenton had both accepted him as a Dom, or at least as a top. The others at the party had also gone along with that. None of them seemed to have sensed the inborn submissiveness that Priory assured him was a part of his nature.

Bryant got up and went into the bathroom, waited moment, flushed the toilet, and opened and shut the medicine cabinate, just in case Priory was still conscious and listening. All the while he swore mentally at having to resort to this subterfuge.

I wonder what it would be like to come and go as I pleased, without having to account for my movements to anybody. Christ, what with the group and foster homes, then here, I don't think I've ever really known. It must be nice.

He thought about it. He considered being able to just drop by a bookstore on his way home if he felt like it, or talking for five or ten minutes to someone at the convenience store rather than rushing home to be sure he didn't go over his allotted time limit. Then he thought, People do that every day, every day of their lives--and I dream about it. Before he went to bed, he cast a resentful glance toward the hall that led to Priory's room.

"You what?"

"I have to study with him." Bryant stared Priory directly in the face. "My history professor got creative. We're supposed to collaborate with the dramatics class and present historic vignettes. We can't do monologues, so I had to pick a partner. I know Trenton from the swim team, so I picked him."

It was mostly the truth. He didn't mention that Trenton had talked his teacher into the project, and that she had then talked his professor into it. "The scenes have to be presented in two weeks, and we're required to do at least five out-of-class study periods." That was a blatant lie. They were just instructed to have the scene ready in two weeks, and have it at least seven minutes long and containing historic facts from whatever era they'd been assigned. Bryant was confident that Priory wouldn't check up on the details--he hated interacting with the other teachers, especially the ones in 'creative' subjects. Translation: anything but science, math, and athletics.

"That's just so much bullshit," Priory scowled.

"Maybe it is, but it's required. If I don't do it, it could drop my grade below a B, and that would put me on academic probation for the swim team." Priory's complexion was darkening, and Bryant knew that he'd have to present enough restrictions to make it acceptable to Priory. Knowing what the reaction would be he said, "I can have him come to our place to work on it."

"Fuck no!" Priory said. "I'm not having someone hanging around our place, bothering me during my free time."

"We could do it at his place. He lives with his mother."

Priory was quiet for a moment, then said, "His mother, huh?"

"Yes, sir. He complained that she always hung over him whenever he had friends over."

"I guess that would be all right, then," Priory said grudgingly.

Gotcha, Bryant thought. Yeah, Trent lives with his mom, but we won't be studying there--we'll be at his lover's.

"And what about your hair?" Priory tugged on Bryant's ponytail, none too gently. "Your fucking roots must be a half inch long."

"It takes money to get a haircut," Bryant said curtly. As soon as he'd said it he knew that the tone of voice was going to get him in trouble.

Priory scowled. "Shit, you always want money. I'll be glad when you graduate and get a job and start contributing to the finances."

Bryant's mouth dropped open. How many times had he pleaded with Priory to let him get a part time job? He'd always said that they didn't need the money enough to justify Bryant spending so much time away from home. He felt his temper starting to rise, and he couldn't hold back the next comment, though he knew he was going to pay for it. "Well, if you can't afford to give me the money to pay him, I can always offer to give him a blowjob in trade." He jerked, twisting away, and the fist clipped him on the back of the head instead of the jaw.

Bryant ran. The only way he was going to get out of this without a beating was to get in public, fast. Luckily the front door wasn't locked, and he made it out into the front yard a couple of steps in front of Priory. He'd schooled himself not to make too much noises during his whippings, but now he yelled, "Don't do it! Don't do it, Pri!"

Thank God old Mister Bellows was mowing his lawn. He used the old fashioned roatary type manual mower since his lawn was so tiny, and he had no trouble hearing the yell. He stopped immediately, looking toward their yard with eagle eyes.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew that there was something hinky about the relationship between the two men living in the little house. Yeah, the coach was supposed to be just helping out a poor student, but... Bellows had seen more than one abusive relationship in his life, and he knew the signs. Privately he hoped that the young blonde boy would grow some balls and kick the shit out of that asshole, Lowell.

Bryant stopped at the sidewalk, chest heaving. The adrenaline that had flooded his system put a metalic tang in his mouth, and his head was buzzing. Priory had stopped halfway down the walk. His eyes darted between his errant lover and the neighbor who was watching him so closely. His first instinct was to chase Bryant down, grab him by the hair, and drag him back inside for a sound thrashing, but he'd always been so careful to present an inoffensive front to the neighbors.

He called, "Bryant, you get back in the house, right now!"

Bryant shook his head. "Not when you're like this."

"Bryant! I don't want our laundry hung out in the street. Get inside!"

Bryant stared at him. He came a little closer, still careful to stay out of reach, though he knew Priory wouldn't dare grab him in front of a witness. In a low voice he said, "Look, I pissed you off. I'm sorry, okay? I know it was wrong, and I didn't mean it. You know that. You already got in a shot, can you leave it at that?" Priory was silent. "Priory, can you leave it at that? Remember that there's a pair of eyes over there, cataloguing everything."

It was the first time that Bryant had used the threat of letting someone else know about what Priory did to him. Priory's eyes flicked to the avid Mister Bellows, then back to Bryant. He scowled again, turned, and went back inside.

Bryant slumped a bit, feeling suddenly limp. He was pretty sure that he'd be able to go inside without risking a beating now. Still, he hesitated.

"Boy?"

Bryant looked over. Mister Bellows had come to the edge of the lawn and was watching him with nervous concern. "Yes, sir?"

"You're Bryant, right? Son, do you need to call anyone? Police, maybe?"

Bryant felt a sudden pricking at his eyes, and was startled to feel them moisten. It was just such a shock to suddenly have someone, especially this gruff, stringy old man, expressing concern. He fought back the tears. "No, sir. I'll be okay. He won't try anything now."

Bellows nodded reluctantly. "I know it's none of my business, but I've heard some things and seen some things. I'm sorta ashamed that I haven't spoke up before, but I'm tellin' you now--next time I hear or see anything, I'm calling the police. Even if you won't."

Bryant nodded. "Thank you." He looked at the house, then back at his neighbor. "You may not have to worry about it much longer."

"I sure hope not."

Bryant went back in. Priory was watching television, and didn't look up as he came in. Bryant was relieved to see that he wasn't drinking. If he stayed sober there was a good chance that this could pass without further violence.

Bryant considered carefully, then sat down on the other end of the couch. A half hour passed without comment. He's giving me the silent treatment, Bryant thought, and he actually believe's it's a punishment. God, he doesn't have a clue.

Finally, not looking over, Priory said, "I should kick your ass for that. If I let it slide this one time, am I gonna have to worry about you getting smart on a regular basis?"

"I have better sense than that."

"I hope so. I shoulda licked it into you by now. There's a twenty on your dresser. Set up the appointment and get your hair fixed. And you can do the study dates, but you call me to check in while you're there."

"No problem." After all, it isn't as if you'll be able to tell where I'm calling from, is it?

Bryant, chin propped in his hand, looked up from the list he was perusing. "Lewis and Clark?"

"Definitely doing it," Clive said calmly.

Trenton cast him an amused look. "What about Sakajawea?"

"She was their guide, precious, and already had a baby, if I remember correctly. Anyway, I have a hard time believing any two men could make a trip like that without at least a little hanky panky going on."

Trenton looked at Bryant. "Clive is firmly convinced that everyone is bi, if given the right circumstances."

Bryant smiled. "Actually what I meant was how about doing Lewis and Clark for our scene?"

"That's okay, but I'd rather do something more recent. How about McCarthy in front of the congressional inquiry?" Trenton made his voice stentorian. "Have you no shame, sir? At long last, have you no shame?"

Clive leaned over and kissed him. "Absolutely none, pet."

Both the younger men laughed. Bryant said, "Works for me, but what makes you think you'll get to be the inquisitor?"

Trenton shrugged goodnaturedly. "I have here a list of 27 high ranking officials in government agencies who are card carrying members of the Communist Party!"

Bryant held out his hand. "If you'll be good enough to show me that paper, sir?"

Trenton pretended to clutch a paper to his chest. "Sir! This paper cannot leave my hands. This information is a sacred trust, a trust bestowed on me by the loyal American patriots who have risked life and limb to provide..."

Bryant pounded his fist on the table. "Evasions, sir! You claim knowledge, but refuse to give anything but innuendo!"

"Shouldn't one of you be writing this down?" Clive asked, getting up to remove the empty potato chip bowl. When Trenton started to stand up, reaching for their glasses, he said, "No, dear, you stay there and work with Bryant. This is supposed to be a study date, after all."

Bryant looked at his watch. "Crap! I have to phone Priory."

"Go ahead, lamb. You know, that's the first white leather wristband I've ever seen."

"I couldn't have a watch till he found it," Bryant grumbled, dialing. "I don't know what his obsession is with having me all in white. There must be a psychological term for it."

Clive came back out of the kitchen. "I think it's a variation on the madonna/whore complex. He treats you like a whore, but likes to think of himself as being in possession of someone who's pristine."

"I told him I'm at Trenton's place, Clive, so I have to ask you to..." he held up a finger in front of his lips, and Clive nodded. "Pri? Yeah. Yeah, I'm here at Trenton's. His mom is really nice. You don't have to worry about leaving supper for me--she fed me." He paused, and rolled his eyes. "No, Pri, I'm not saying that I expected you to cook for me. What?" His expression tightened, his eyes darting to Clive. "She's kind of busy right now... Okay, wait a minute." He covered the receiver and whispered, "He wants to talk to Trent's mom!"

Trenton and Clive exchanged looks. Clive pointed toward the door, then down, and mouthed 'meow'. Trenton's face brightened and he said loudly, "My Mom? Hang on, Bryant, she's out in the kitchen." He hurried out of the apartment, leaving the door open, and Bryant heard him pound down the stairs.

Bryant uncovered the phone. "He'll be right back. What? I don't know. I think she's washing dishes." He got a pained look on his face. "Pri, please don't use that term about his mother! Yes, I know he can't hear, but still..." There were two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs now. Bryant's eyebrows climbed as he saw Trent usher Mrs. Havasnark into the room.

The little old lady (who's hair was an unlikely shade of red-gold) marched up to him confidently and held out her hand. Bryant handed over the phone and she chirped, "Hello, is this Coach Low One? Oh, Lowell." The three men had to fight down laughter. "Yes, yes. Trent told me about you. Oh, no. Bryant hasn't been a bit of trouble! I'm so glad that he came over to help Trent with his school work. It was very nice of you to give permission. Yes." She looked non-plussed. "Well, if you think it would help, I'd be happy to, but maybe he should just take a course in home economics. Good-bye." She handed the phone back to Bryant.

Bryant said, "Satisfied? Oh, about another two hours. What? Yes, I've made the appointment for day after tomorrow. I can get there by bus, and he said he'll give me a ride home. What?" Bryant scowled. "Okay." He hung up. "I'm going to hear about hanging up without saying good-bye."

Mrs. Havasnark said, "Bryant, dear, who was that asshole?"

Bryant choked back laughter. The casual assurance with which the dainty, elderly lady used the term was startling. "He's somebody who thinks he owns me."

"Well, he's a thoroughly unpleasant person. I didn't talk to him two minutes and I could tell."

Curious, Trenton said, "What was the home economics thing about?"

"He suggested that I give Bryant some housekeeping tips. Said he could always use improvement."

Bryant hugged her. "Thanks, Mrs. Havasnark. Sorry you got dragged into this mess."

"Not at all, dear." She patted his back, and gave his butt a quick squeeze before letting him go. "It was a treat for me. I still get an occasional commercial, but I haven't done any real acting in ages."

Bryant's eyebrows flew up, and he pointed at her. "You're the Casbah Cookies lady!"

She smiled. "My best known role." She looked at Trent and Bryant. "The campaign ran for two years. I still get an occasional residual check."

"I used to see your commercials all the time when I was a kid!" Bryant marvelled. "You were always giving out cookies to the neighborhood kids. I used to wish you were my grandmother."

She made a face. "Curse typecasting. I'd rather have you think of me as a sexy older woman."

Clive kissed her cheek. "As we all do, darling. You tell Bettina that the next coloring is on the house."

"You already give me a discount, Clive, but far be it from me to turn down a bargain. Just let me know anytime you need me to cover again."

Trenton offered her his arm. "C'mon, Snarky, and I'll escort you to your door."

"Good. I have some marshmallow fudge I was going to bring up later, and you can take it and save me a trip."

Clive groaned as they exitted. "Ah, well. One more trip to the gym this week. What was the problem with the ride right there at the end?"

"He doesn't want me riding with you. I'm to take the bus to the campus and wait for him to finish his class, then go home with him."

"Ah. Well, I'll just have to see that you look spectacular, won't I? And I'll drive you to school. Public transportation should be avoided unless absolutely unavoidable." Trenton came back in, carrying a plate of fudge, and offered it to Bryant, who shook his head, then Clive. Clive took a piece, sighing. "I become more convinced each day that the woman is in league with the devil." He took a bite. "But I'm willing to hold judgement. She's promised popcorn balls next week. Tell me, Trent, do you think our friend Bryant would feel at home at Lavender's Green?"

"No more than, say, a fish in water. Why? Are we taking him there?"

"Not today. But Bryant has expressed an interest in employment..."

"And Toddy just lost his assistant barkeep to matrimony," Trenton finished, catching the idea. He looked at Bryant. "Wilson went into his wife's family's machine shop."

"He's promised to weld me a specially designed rack when he gets a bit of experience," Clive said, running a finger down Trent's back. Trenton shivered. "If you want the job, Bryant, I'm pretty sure you'll get it. Want me to talk to Toddy?"

Bryant hesitated. There was no way Priory would allow him to take a job, despite what he'd said before about Bryant earning his keep. Priory was too fixated on being Bryant's be all and end all. If he took a job it would mean moving out. As tempting as that idea was, he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

Clive saw his indecision. "Just think about it. Wilson gave two weeks notice, and Toddy won't start seriously hunting for a replacement for a few more days. But you know, Bri, that if we do what we discussed with your hair, it may be very, very dicey at home. I don't think Priory will like it."

Bryant's jaw hardened. "I know he won't like it. And, frankly, that's the main reason why I want to do it."

Clive smiled. "Ah, rebellion." He gave Trenton a mock stern look. "Don't get any ideas, lamb."

Trent kissed him. "Clive, you have to be in a situation you don't like to want to rebel."