Unholy Matrimony

Unholy Matrimony

I scrubbed the pumpkin from the steps. Jake had been living with me for the last couple of months. At first, he’d kept his apartment, but at the beginning of October he’d given up the lease and moved in full time. Jake had a temper; I’d seen it more than a few times, and the odd number of plates and glasses that I now owned were testament to what happened when his temper went unchecked. I still hadn’t figured out how he could go from sweet, cuddly lover to raging maniac and back in a span of less than five minutes.

Last night he’d been in raging maniac mode. Stuart had called to warn me that Jake was ready to blow. I guess they’d both had an inspection with an absolutely belligerent owner of a new office complex. The guy had spent hours screaming at them because they wouldn’t sign off on the inspection papers. Stu had said that it wasn’t major, just lots of little problems that were going to put the building behind schedule. Stu said the owner accused them of attending Mickey Mouse University, not knowing how to read plans, and being on the payroll of a competing firm. They both had finally walked off the site and told the gentleman to call their supervisor as their expertise clearly wasn’t adequate.

Even though I’d been forewarned, I hadn’t been able to prevent the explosion at home. Jake had barged into the house, tossing his satchel onto the floor with such force that papers slid across the hardwood floor from the entry hall to the kitchen. Jake stomped through the papers, ignoring my suggestion he put them back in his briefcase, and charged upstairs. He returned moments later in his running shoes and wind suit. 

“You’re ankle’s been bothering you. I saw you limping this morning. Do you think running is a good idea?” I thought those were perfectly reasonable statements, but my dear boy didn’t.

“Fuck you! If you’re going to tell me what to do, do it for real or not at all.” Jake stormed out the door and started hurling the pumpkins at the front of the house. 

Smashed pumpkins rolled about like a perverted end to The Headless Horseman. I’ve enjoyed a good pumpkin smash myself but not on the front of the house in full view of the neighbors. I decided, perhaps partially in cowardice, that the best course of action was to let the anger run its course and try to talk to Jake when he calmed down. I’d seen a few of Jake’s tantrums before and could usually divert him with my bag of tricks, but this was beyond filling his hands with a yo-yo or a loop of string.

I wiped more pumpkin from the window and rolled my shoulders and neck. Jake had returned from his run and immediately retreated to the bedroom and locked the door. Negotiating with my boyfriend who was acting like he was possessed by an alien seemed like a poor choice, so I’d retired to the sofa bed for the night. No wonder that thing was cheap. I rubbed my neck, put the scrub brush down, and drifted back into the kitchen for more coffee. Jake had been little better this morning, rushing out the door and looking tearful, claiming to have an early morning meeting.

I stared at the telephone. I knew Andy did couples counseling at his church. This was his forte, maybe he’d have some suggestions. I started to dial and put the phone back down only halfway through the needed numbers. I drank more coffee, scalding my tongue from my inattentiveness. I expected my brothers to call me when they had a problem; I’d hound them if they didn’t, but I was the eldest. I looked at the phone again. Damn, I loved Jake. If I had to spill my guts to my younger brother to make this work, I could do it. Talking to Andy would have to be easier than a stranger, and I didn’t have the faintest idea how to find couples counseling for a gay couple.

I punched the numbers in the phone and listened to the distant buzz. Andy picked up immediately. He must have been at his desk writing Sunday’s sermon. There was no hiding behind a generic message on the answering machine. “Andy, it’s Quill.”

“Hi. Are you calling to invite me to some crazy Halloween bash? I’ve already made other plans.” Andy’s voice as usual boomed with friendliness and an underlying tone of teasing. We’d always gotten along well, even as children. Braedon was closer to my age, but Andy had been more fun. It was with Andy that I’d gone with to my first Scrabble competition and revealed that I was gay.  The two of us had stood shoulder to shoulder when Andy had told dad he was joining the Episcopal church.

“No naked bobbing for apples this year. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Are you OK?” Andy’s voice had immediately changed to a soft, concerned tone. I could see why he was popular with his parishioners.

“I’m not sick if that’s what you mean. Mom and dad are also fine. It’s Jake.”

“He’s not sick?”

“No.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t seem to make our relationship work, and I love the bastard.”

I could almost hear the wheels turning in Andy’s brain before he answered, weighing his professional responsibility with his responsibility as my brother. “Do you want couples counseling or a shoulder to cry on?”

“I want to make this work. Jake is the one; I know it.”

“Does he know how you feel?” Andy asked softly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything at this point,” I almost shouted in frustration. “He’s like dealing with Dr Jekyl and My Hyde.” I paused for breath, getting a grip on my feelings. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Quill, it’s OK. It’s not like we younger brothers have never shouted at you. I get the impression that Justin still keeps you pretty busy.” Andy gave a small chuckle. “Justin calls to complain when he thinks you make too many rules. I just remind him how lucky he is that it’s you and not dad. Oh, and by the way, I know all about the car. I’ll throw in some money towards a down payment, but I’d like to see him in church a few times.”

“I’ll tell him.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute before Andy continued. “As your brother, I don’t think I can ethically offer couples counseling. I’m too close to you, plus I have no experience with same sex couples. Dan always talks with them.”

I’d met Dan a few times when I gone to hear Andy preach. He was the head priest at St Patrick’s, tall, angular, and approaching sixty. The ceremonial vestments always hung off of him like sheets blowing in the wind. He was openly gay, one of the first openly gay ordained ministers, and was in a long term relationship. I think Andy told me Dan had been with Sam more than twenty years.

“Let me get you Dan’s number. He’s good at this kind of thing, and I’m sure he’ll see you right away even though you aren’t a member of the church.”

I dutifully wrote the number down and told Andy I’d let him know how it went. This was a white lie; I wasn’t sure I’d call him. It had been hard enough to call Andy, let alone a near stranger.

I went back outside with my coffee and the scrub bucket to continue removing the pumpkin. Cleaning the house at least made me feel like I was doing something. I must have been out there an hour or so -- I hadn’t put on my watch -- when a nondescript, silver car pulled in my driveway. Dan climbed out of the car and waved. Damn, my brother worked fast.

“I was in the area visiting a sick parishioner, so I thought I’d stop by to say hello.” He smiled again, but his gray eyes were intensely focused on me. I’d never realized how all encompassing his stare could be.

“I take it Andy put a bee in your bonnet. You better come in.”

“You should’ve called me,” he remonstrated gently. “I don’t bite, and love’s too important to fritter away.”

I dropped my eyes; I could feel the back of my neck reddening. I had only met Dan casually; I’d had no idea he could be this intense. No wonder he had a high success rate in couples counseling; they were probably afraid to cross him. I hurried into the kitchen and busied myself with the coffee pot so I could avoid making eye contact. 

He caught my wrist and smiled again. Why was I reminded of that horrible poem about the spider and the fly?  Welcome to my lair the spider said to the fly, I paraphrased in my mind. 

“I’ve got it,” Dan said. “Black is fine. Sit down. I hate talking to people who are bleeding kinetic energy. Did your partner smash the pumpkins?”

I nodded, blushing.

“Creative. Is this your first incident with Jake -- that’s his name right -- throwing things?”

“Yes, it’s Jake, and no, he’s thrown things before.” I fingered the coffee mug, trying to hide behind the words “the puzzle master presents.” It had been a gift for contributing to NPR.

“Don’t hide behind the mug, or I’ll take it away.”

I looked up at him in shock. His voice had been soft, but I believed every word he said. “You come into my house uninvited, and now you start ordering me around. Who do...” I swallowed hard and reined in my temper. He’d been trying to help, and I was shouting at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.”

“I know; it’s just frustrating. You feel at the end of your tether, and I’m trying to provoke you. Get a feel for how bad it is.” Dan gave me a friendly grin but reached for my coffee mug. “I know I’m a bastard, but give up your coffee. You’re using it for camouflage.”

I pushed it over to him. 

Dan asked me piles of questions -- everything from my working hours to details of past relationships. I would usually object to divulging information about mine and Jake’s private life, but Dan’s keen, earnest expression and occasional sympathetic noises made him easy to talk with. He did give me my coffee back after a few minutes and after a half hour made a second pot. He stayed calm and unruffled no matter my replies.

“Do you think Jake would talk to me, or would he throw a first class temper tantrum at the suggestion?”

I shrugged. “I think he’d screech a bit and then go silent.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dan nodded, steepling his fingers. “You realize Jake’s been throwing temper tantrums, don’t you.”

I nodded, running my finger around the coffee mug before stopping myself and putting both hands on the table.

“You learn fast,” Dan said, smiling. “Actually it sounds like you’ve done remarkably well with Jake considering the circumstances. You’ve been successful at diverting most of his tantrums and have refrained from turning them into an ugly shouting match. Much easier to fix when one partner already has coping skills, and you’re not both lobbing plates at each other.”

“Jake’s never thrown anything at me,” I interrupted, “just at the floor and walls.”

“I know,” Dan said, soothingly. “It’s a good sign -- more overall frustration than anger at you. Do you know what kind of relationship he had with Lawrence? Did he put checks on Jake’s behavior or practice some ritualized means of stress release?”

“What do you mean? Jake doesn’t talk about Lawrence, but I get the impression that Lawrence didn’t approve of a lot of Jake’s behavior.”

“Who would? He’s bratting. I was talking about a discipline relationship or perhaps BDSM.” Dan must have seen my look of shock because he raised an eyebrow and smiled mockingly. “I may be a priest, but I’m a gay guy with a partner. We like to play sometimes -- nothing too heavy. It relaxes both of us.”

“Handcuffs and whips aren’t my thing.”

“You love Jake,” Dan said sharply. “With love, partners must compromise. If an hour a week on the cross keeps Jake sane it will be well worth it. You calm yourself with yo-yos, jacks, and marbles. Would you deny Jake the tools or rituals that work for him?”

“No, sir.” With the look that Dan was giving me that was the only appropriate response.

“Has Jake ever mentioned even in passing wanting to play that way, or have you seen any toys?”

I shook my head.

“OK.” Dan nodded.  “After Jake’s done blowing up, he wants to cuddle. There’s tears and apologies. He settles down if you put your arms around him or grab his wrists. Did I understand that right?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever said anything about Lawrence forbidding certain things, grounding him, or perhaps spanking him?”

“He doesn’t talk about Lawrence, but Stuart, my brother, used to complain that Lawrence was a prick and never let Jake do anything. Stu and Jake work together. That’s how we met.”

Dan nodded thoughtfully. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this without talking to Jake, but I think your boy was in a discipline partnership and needs those boundaries. We could of course try the usual couples counseling, but I think it would be World War III to get him there and then be non productive because you would be exhausted after battling him about attending. If I’m right, this might be a short cut, but if I’m wrong it will be an unmitigated disaster.”

“What will be a disaster? What is a discipline relationship? What are you talking about?” I said, letting some of my frustration creep into my voice.

“If you use that tone with me again, I’m going to put you in a corner to study the paintwork until you can be civil.”

I looked at Dan, my eyebrows climbing into my hair. Was he serious? He looked serious. His gray eyes stared at me unmoving. I took a deep breath and decided I didn’t want to find out.

“Good,” Dan said calmly, stood, and refilled my coffee. “That was an example of a discipline relationship.”

“You’re suggesting I make Jake stand in the corner.”

“I’m suggesting you talk about making boundaries for appropriate behavior and consequences for them being broken.”

I looked at Dan. He was definitely serious; he wasn’t putting me on. “Why do I feel like I just followed Alice into the rabbit hole?”

“Because you did,” Dan said with a smile. “Discipline partnerships are pretty unorthodox, and the ones out there are deeply hidden, so this is a whole new world. You Maguire boys grew up in a conventional home. You’re considered the most adventuresome of the bunch, and Justin will tell you that you’re a by the rules guy. You might play with toys all day and indulge in an occasional fancy dress party, but really you’re the all American boy where it counts: work hard, tell the truth, protect the family. All the things that will make you a good top, but also all the things that scream weird, abnormal, bizarre at the suggestion of a discipline partnership.”

When I didn’t flee from the table or call the church synod, Dan must have thought I was willing to try his suggestion because he spent the next hour trying to explain the ins and outs of a discipline relationship. I was still mulling over his parting words as I waited for Jake to return from work. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow and see how the conversation went. Don’t even think about trying to evade it, my boy.” I swallowed hard. How was I going to have this conversation with Jake? But if I didn’t, I’d have Dan breathing down my neck. Not an appealing prospect. The last priest I’d found this scary had caught me in a fist-fight after choir practice. 

********

I heard Jake’s little Honda spluttering in the drive. I went to the front door and held it open. Jake was sitting in the car, his hands still on the steering wheel, surrounded by pumpkins. Orange globes were piled to the ceiling of the hatchback; more pumpkins were stacked on the seat and rolling around the gear shift box. I pulled Jake from the car since he didn’t seem to be moving and kissed the top of his head. “We’re going to talk about it, and it’s going to be all right.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Unless they start reproducing, they’ll be fine in your car for a few hours.” I pushed Jake in front of me to the living room and pulled him into my lap on the sofa. He struggled halfheartedly to get away, and I tightened my arms. “Be still. This works for you.” I said in a short, sharp tone; it was the same tone that Dan had used on me, and Jake froze. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be OK,” I murmured into his hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jake burst into tears and collapsed against my chest. I held him, rocking him slightly until the tears changed to sniffles and occasional hiccups.

“Do you think you can talk now?” I asked over the final sniffles.

“Yeah,” he choked. “You’re not mad about last night?”

“Let’s say I’ve had all day to think about it. I’m not happy about your behavior, but I’m not mad.” I felt Jake freeze in my arms. “Did I say something wrong, honey?”

Jake looked at me, his eyes searching my face. “No, it’s just I’ve heard this lecture a thousand times.”

“From Lawrence?” I asked before Jake could ramble off topic. “Was he...” I hesitated a moment trying to get my mind around the unfamiliar topics and words. 

“A top,” Jake filled in before I could say it. He tucked his head under my chin, and I fingered his hair. We both sat quietly, I’m sure contemplating where this discussion was going. 

“Do you want me to take that role?” I asked in a voice hardly stronger than a whisper as I carded my fingers through his hair. “Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me?”

“Maybe,” Jake answered softly. “Lawrence was too bossy.”

“But I’m not bossy enough,” I said with a soft chuckle. “Like Goldilocks and the three bears.”

“Not with me,” Jake said to my shirt. 

I swallowed hard. This conversation was heading in the direction that Dan had predicted. It sounded like Jake had been in a discipline partnership and wanted us to try something similar. God, was I cut out for the role that Dan had loosely described as a top? I didn’t want to take the choices away from my partner. I didn’t want to punish him, but Dan had said very forcefully that it was my duty to listen and try if I loved Jake. I loved Jake -- everything from the sweet, fun loving adventurer to the hurricane force that sent glasses bouncing off the tile to the disheveled mess that was in my arms now.  “What do you mean, not with you?”

“You punish Justin. You took his car and phone away.”

“What do you mean?” My mind reeled around the implications if he wanted to be treated like Justin. Justin was my baby brother, not my lover, and I sure as hell wouldn’t spank him or give him lines to write.

“I heard you the day he crashed his car.”

“That’s why you were acting like a zombie at the pizza restaurant,” I said with sudden understanding.

Jake nodded.

“You wanted something that you were afraid to ask for, and when you heard me with Justin you thought I would figure it out.”

“I wanted it but not like with Lawrence,” Jake said in a very small voice.

“Well,” I said brusquely. Dan had said if we got this far I needed to sound certain and in charge. I didn’t feel certain and in charge; I felt like I was in the fun house. I was entering in a serious conversation with my lover about spanking him. “Do you want me to top you?”Jake squirmed in my lap, and I rubbed my hands down his back.

 “Yes, I need you to. I’m sorry,” Jake mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said continuing in a brisk, matter of fact tone. I should win an Oscar for this performance. “I love you. It’s my job to provide what you need. Now, you need to tell me what you need. Talk to me. This is not a one man show.”

“I don’t know,” Jake muttered.

“You know, my boy,” I said putting my finger under Jake’s chin and forcing him to look up. Just give me the golden statue now and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. How had I gotten myself in so deep? “You were in this type of relationship for seven years. It must have worked for quite a few years before it crashed and burned.”

“It did. Lawrence stopped the throwing.”

“I assume he must have,” I said with a wry smile. “Or you bought a lot of dishes.”

Jake smiled. It was the first smile I’d seen from him all evening. “You’re a lot funnier than Lawrence. He would never joke when we had these kind of discussions.”

“Well, thank God I’m not Lawrence.” That comment got another smile from Jake. “I think we should stop the throwing also. I don’t want to have to buy new china every year.”

“Me either. If you replaced these, you’d probably get a superheroes set. I could just see eating off the Green Hornet plate.”

I smiled. Jake was starting to loosen up. “Batman china -- that sounds like a good idea. Maybe I’ll try tossing a few plates around as Frisbees when I get frustrated.”

“You can’t do that. You’re the top.”

“OK,” I said and tousled Jake’s hair. “What works to make you think twice in a tantrum?”

Jake was silent in my lap, playing with my shirt collar.

“I asked you a question, little boy.”

“You’ll need to spank me.” This was said so softly that I wanted to pretend I’d misunderstood or hadn’t heard it, but I knew how hard it had been to admit. I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to spank my lover. Please let me step through a time shift and get back to the normal universe where I’d never heard of tops, brats, and corner time.

“OK. Rule number one in the Wright-Maquire household: if you throw things in anger you get spanked.” I swallowed hard. How soon was I going to have to put that rule into effect? “Other rules?” I asked.

“Swearing,” Jake said softly.

“I think a spanking is too harsh for that.”

“I took ten years off you father’s life at the picnic.”

“No, you didn’t. It gave him something to talk about with his buddies. His gay son brings home a boyfriend who swears like a sailor -- no limp wristed boyfriend with a purse for him.  A genuine foul mouthed red-blooded American.”

“You’re too nice,” Jake said with a smile.

“I swear too, and I want this system to be fair. How about a Chance card draw?”

“What do mean?” Jake asked.

“You know, like in Monopoly when you land on Chance or Community Chest. Usually the cards send you to jail or otherwise penalize you but sometimes you get to pass Go and collect two hundred dollars. We could come up with a series of cards to draw if either of us swears -- extra chores, lines, whatever. Some could even be a free pass. Will that work for you?”

“I think so.” Jake nodded. “It sounds kind of like fun. I don’t know if it will be much of a disincentive.”

“We can put every thing we hate to do on them -- like cleaning the bathroom. I think that will be disincentive enough.”

“Who writes them?”

“I write half, and you write half. But remember if you make them dreadful, you could get stuck with it.”

Jake nodded, his eyes were sparkling with mischief. “I’ve never gotten to punish a top before. This is going to be fun.”

I laughed. “I’ll have to be careful with my swearing. Do you have any other rules you want to add?”

“No curfews, please. Lawrence was obsessive about me being home by six and in bed by ten. I hated that.”

“I don’t care when you get home, but I want you to call if you’re going to be late, and bedtime’s your business as long as you get up in the morning. Does that work for you?”

Jake nodded. “That’s not being very toppy. Tops are obsessed with adequate sleep.”

“As long as I can get you up, I’ll assume you’re getting adequate sleep. Now if I have to stick you under a cold shower to get you out the door, I might change my mind.”

“Have you ever done that?”

“I don’t make idle threats. Ask Braedon. What else?”

Jake shrugged and snuggled tighter into my chest.

“All right, since you’re not being very helpful, I have a few. You do not lock doors on me in this house. Is that understood?” I made my tone cold and harsh, trying to sound like a drill sergeant. I must have gotten the right effect because Jake look at me with wide, slightly frightened eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. You won’t be able to do it anyway. I took the locks off the bedroom and bathroom.”

“That’s cheating,” Jake protested.

“I play to win, my boy.”

“You would,” Jake said with a slight smile. He started to fidget and tried to slide off my lap.

“We’re not done yet.”

“What else is left?”

“Running when you’re injured.” I knew this decree was going to get the most resistance, and the look Jake gave me was mutinous.

“You can’t do that. I like running.”

“I am doing it. You just put me in charge, and you’re hobbling around like an old lady.”

“No,” Jake spat at me. “I won’t give it up.” Jake swung his feet at my shins and tried to jerk out of my arms.

“Stop it. Stop right now.” I said in my firmest tone. Well, that didn’t work. If anything Jake struggled harder. I guess it was time to try the corner. “If you can’t be civil, you can stand in the corner until you can be.” I propelled Jake into the kitchen corner, which I had prepared in advanced, and parked him with his nose a few inches from the exciting white paint.

When I released my hands from his shoulders, he spun back around, hissing and snarling like a tiger. I’m sure if there had been a handy plate or glass it would’ve been shattered against the farthest wall.

“Turn around,” I said, striving to keep my voice even.

“No,” Jake snapped. 

Without even thinking about it, I spun Jake around and landed three hard swats on the seat of his trousers. “Stand there and calm down.” Cautiously I released my hands from Jake’s shoulders, and he stayed in the corner. Round one to Quill Maguire, but I felt like a heel. My lover was in the corner with tears running down his face, and I’d caused it. I pretended to be occupied by the contents of the refrigerator as I watched him cry. Heartless bastard, I chided myself. 

I let him stay there ten minutes before I went over and put my hand on his shoulder. “Will you listen to me now?”

“Yes, sir,” came the quiet reply.

“I don’t want to stop your running, but I’m concerned you’ll aggravate an injury. I’ve made an appointment with my doctor. If she says you can run, I won’t interfere, and in the meantime we can go swimming. We’re now proud members of the health club associated with St Patrick’s.”

“You’ll let me run if the doctor says it’s OK?”

“Of course. I’m not a sports medicine expert.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” I was trying to stay firm, but all I wanted to do was hug Jake. He looked so young with his tear streaked face, shifting from foot to foot in the corner.

“Lawrence liked to control my mileage. Said I put too much strain on my legs.”

“I’m not Lawrence.” I swept Jake into a hug. “Do you want to go swimming or have dinner?”

“Swimming. We’re not members of St Patrick’s? How’d you get a health club pass?”

“We’re guest members now.”

“Ugh. Do we have to go to church on Sundays?”

“Yep,” I said with a laugh. It won’t be too bad. I’ll ask Andy which service is shortest.” I was teasing Jake. We'd go this week. Dan had made a special effort to talk to me. But after that I don't know. Church wasn't my thing, and Jake had never expressed any interest.

“What brought on this sudden religious fervor?”

“You did. I had to pray to get you to stop breaking things.”

Jake blanched and then realized I was teasing and smiled. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yep,” I said hooking my arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “Hurry. We’ve got a busy night carving pumpkins, and you’re doing them this time.”

Jake groaned, “Meanie,” and ran up the stairs for his swimsuit.

I watched him bound up the stairs. He seemed happier than he’d been for days. I let out a deep breath. Maybe this was going to work -- me, the big, mean top.