The Newlyweds

The Newlyweds

Landon had awakened early. He slipped from the silky sheets and silently traversed the thick pile carpet to the broad bay windows overlooking the ocean. The sun was rising over the water, generating just enough light to bathe the room in misty shadows. Gordon was still deep in the land of nod, sprawled across the bed in the abandon of slumber, the thin blankets scattered and twisted. He was a beautiful man in his sleep, more peaceful than he ever was awake, his face slack, the guarded watchfulness gone, the sheer power of his personality resting and rejuvenating. 

Landon twisted the ring on his finger. This man was his, or maybe more correctly he was Gordon’s. The semantics didn’t matter. They belonged to each other; their fates were tied together. They were Lewis-Graves or was it Graves-Lewis? It didn’t matter; they could always fight about the order later. They were officially mister and mister, not that the state recognized it, not that Gordon’s family even acknowledged their own son, let alone his chosen lover, but they themselves acknowledged it. They had stood in front of every friend and family member they could drag out with the promise of free food and drink and every powerful figure Daddy Graves could haul in the door. Gordon had kissed Landon in front of the throngs, and Landon’s father had proudly toasted his sons. 

Landon smiled and watched the sea lap against the sandy shore. He had his man; Gordon was his. The world could accept it or not as they chose. 

Landon’s relationship with his father had never been perfect. They both had strong personalities, and Landon was old enough to realize that he’d taken out much of his young anger and restlessness on his dad. Landon had thought sailing home with Gordon in tow would be another one of those father and son firestorms; instead it had been open acceptance and quiet pride from the patriarch of the family.

“Landon, I like him, and I’ve known for a long time. I won’t lie to you, and tell you it was initially easy, but I’ve had plenty of time. All I ask is that you love him with your genuine heart.”

Easy. One, two, three, presto and his father thought his lover was perfect. It wasn’t supposed to work that way. Landon couldn’t battle the parental menace. He’d tried a few small skirmishes, and Gordon had squashed those ruthlessly. Gordon could be ruthless; it was one of his charms. 

“Landon, it’s early.” The voice was sleepy and strangely domestic.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Regrets?”

“God, no. My dad asked me that yesterday.”

“He would. He’s a good man. He wants you happy.”

“And your father wishes you would die.”

“My father is not worth the two seconds of time it took to mention his name.” The steel was back in Gordon’s voice. This was the harshness the world often saw.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You weren’t spreading hatred like flames to a drought stricken forest.”

“Still--”

“Boy, I will not have you wallowing in guilt for something which you could not control or change. It’s not permitted.”

This was Gordon. This was his man, sure and definite and all controlled power. “Yes, sir.” Those words hadn’t come easily. Landon had known Gordon was a dominant, anyone with half a feel for power knew, and Landon had wanted to be at this man’s feet. He’d thrown himself at this man, practically collapsing to his knees at Gordon’s first glance, but it still didn’t come easily. Landon walked on the other side also, but Gordon’s aura was so great that Landon had known instinctively his place was at his king’s side with his head bowed. He yielded, and Gordon cherished the submission given as the precious gift it was.

“Thank you. I wish to focus on what I have been given, not what I have lost.”

“Forward,” Landon said with a wide smile.

“Onward,” Gordon echoed, his smile more contained. “Can you sleep more?”

Landon shook his head. “The sun’s up.”

“Right. One of the rules of a honeymoon is that you must get up with the sun?” Gordon raised his eyebrow, an almost hidden smirk on his lips.

“It’s a new rule.”

“You stay up. I’m sleeping.” Gordon turned over with a dramatic huff and pulled a pillow over his eyes.

Landon smiled. Even about sleep Gordon liked his own way. He was the one who was usually up at five thirty and mercilessly pulling Landon from the warm heaven. Let him sleep. They’d be back to work soon enough. Landon had plenty to think about as he watched the slow breathing of his lover, not everyday was the day after your wedding. He could replay yesterday for hours.

****

Landon fiddled with his tie. It was Gordon who was good with these things, but under some crazy ancient superstition they were being kept apart. It was Landon alone at war with his tie with only the mirror as both his friend and his enemy. It still wasn’t right; he jerked savagely at one end.

“Landon, crushing it won’t help.” 

“Dad, I can’t get this damn thing right,” Landon tossed the tie on the chair, already cluttered with the detritus of wedding clothes.

“Let me help.” 

“I’m capable of tying my own tie,” Landon rounded on his father with a sneer. “I’m not a baby.”

“Stressed.” His dad’s smile was easy. “I should tell you about the day I married your mother. It was a nightmare. The car broke down, and I had to come by tow truck.”

“At least your tie looked right.”

“The minister tied mine. My hands were shaking too hard. Let me do it.” Landon’s dad picked up the tie and shook it out. His fingers were quick, and the tie was perfect. “Almost as good as your Gordon.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Landon smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

“You’re nervous, and...” 

“Gordon’s not here to tell me to stop.” Landon grinned. “I know you see it.”

The older Graves’s eyes shot to the chair already piled full, as if he would like to sit. Instead he leaned against the wall and studied his only child. “He has significant influence over you. Your lover should. It’s normal. In general, I think his influence is positive, but…”

“Dad,” Landon sighed, exasperated. “I’m not getting cold feet. You don’t need to tell everyone to go home.”

“I would if that’s what you wanted.”

“I know,” Landon said softly, realizing the honesty and love in his father’s words. “I love Gordon. He’s right for me.” Landon cleared his throat. “You’re not wrong; he has a lot of influence over me.”

“Son, I don’t need to know the details.”

“You’re not stupid about these things. You don’t have to pretend to be blind. I’m not embarrassed by it.”

“I also prefer not to know what goes on in my son’s bedroom,” Landon’s father said with a forced laugh.

“It’s well beyond the bedroom.”

Matching blue eyes met. Henry Graves studied his son, quiet and assessing. “I love you. You are my only child. I haven’t always been the perfect father, but I want you to know I’m here if you ever need anything. I believe I should trust him, but if I’m ever wrong, my home and hearth are yours.”

“You’re not giving me to a monster. More likely you’re giving Gordon the monster,” Landon said with a flashing grin. “You know me.”

Landon’s father nodded. “Gordon isn’t always an easy man. I see his eyes when he watches you; he’s possessive and protective and something I can’t quite name. I believe he’s a good man, but your relationship won’t always be all roses.”

“We both like the thorns.”

His dad’s eyebrows rose in a pattern reminiscent of Gordon’s. “That might be more information than I want to know. Both of you just take care of yourselves and remember to love each other every day.”

“And to kneel and kiss his feet daily,” Landon added.

“I’m long done being shocked by you,” Landon’s father said with a grimace. “Do what pleases both of you.”

“I’m the submissive,” Landon shouted, suddenly wanting the world to know for reasons he couldn’t understand.

“Landon, that is private between you and Gordon. I don’t need to know.” His dad’s tone was stern, but horribly calm. 

“You’ve been hinting at it. You might just damn well ask. Your only son is a kneeling cocksucker who gets his ass beat. Happy now!”

“My only son needs his husband.” Landon’s dad bent and kissed Landon’s cheek before walking from the room with quiet dignity. 

****

Landon hoped ten years from now that exchange would be funny. His dad had sent Gordon Landon’s way, and Gordon had been at his most fierce. Carpet and tuxedo pants weren’t the best match, but Landon had felt better, and he’d managed to stumble through a genuine but awkward apology to his dad. He had said too much. Gordon valued his privacy, and Gordon valued a traditional relationship with one’s parents, despite his maggot of a father. Landon was willingly and completely Gordon’s submissive. It was his duty to uphold Gordon’s standards.

“Boy, I want a warm body.” How had Gordon known Landon was brooding? He was propped on one elbow and beckoning with his finger. “Now, my lad.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to order your husband around on our first day of marriage.”

“You like it, and I like it even more. In bed with you. Now!” 

The growl shot through Landon’s nervous system, and he flew to the bed.

****

It was a more appropriate hour when they rose from the bed. Gordon in perfect comfort strolled naked to the bathroom. He wasn’t a huge man, nor was he excessively muscled, but his trim figure was attractive with dark hair matting his chest and traveling to the groin. 

“Watching me, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” Landon grinned and flashed his bright blue eyes. 

“Good.” Gordon said with absolute confidence. "Order us some breakfast."

Landon silently growled at the high-handed demand. What was he? The servant boy? Gordon could at least say please. This was Gordon, lord of the universe. He gave orders; he didn't make requests.

Landon reached for the phone and dialed the restaurant. "I'll have grits, country ham, biscuits and sausage gravy, and the fruit platter." They'd eat the fruit platter. The rest would be worth it just to see Gordon's expression. The man had rigid expectations of a proper breakfast. He either ate lightly with a continental breakfast, or he did the full English breakfast. 

Landon propped himself on a pillow and watched the bathroom with one eye and the door to their rental cottage with the other. Gordon beat the breakfast. He stepped out of the bathroom with a billow of steam and bent over the sink. With careful precision, he shaved his face, the razor taking long smooth swaths. Drying himself, he combed his thick, black hair that framed his face and brushed the top of his ears. He turned and smiled at Landon; the warmth that only Landon saw flickered in his eyes, and he cocked his head as his thick eyebrows rose.

"I thought you were ready to start the day hours ago."

"I changed my mind." Landon flicked the covers to the floor and sprawled across the bed in the most lewd way he knew how.

"Not in front of the staff."

"They're trained to be discreet."

"No." Gordon's voice hit a harder tone.

"Gordon." Landon licked his lips seductively and slowly lowered his eyelids in a mockery of shyness.

"No." Gordon's voice held the same firmness as he shrugged into a red golf shirt. With his hand on his belt that he had yet to thread through the loops of his pants, he stalked toward Landon.

"OK, OK. I'm going." Landon scrambled out of bed, but not fast enough to escape one sharp lash with the thin leather.

"Don't mock the help, boy."

Landon nodded, real contriteness rising in his chest. Gordon was meticulous about his expectations and treatment of staff or anyone else under his rule. He might be called dictatorial in whispered conversations over coffee in the break room, but Landon knew from the lowest car wash boy to the midlevel analysts that Gordon was respected and people prided themselves in working for Gordon and winning his occasional brief but very sincere praise. Gordon’s father had been mercurial and capricious with their household staff who had no resources against a wealthy white landholder. Gordon swore in all things that he would never be his father. 

Gordon wasn't soft, but he was fair, and once his trust was won, he was incredibly honest. Landon knew his background, knew of unspeakable horrors suffered as a boy. His business associates didn't, but they knew of his ruthlessness and willingness to uphold principles, even if they were against the norm. It had taken less than one week for Gordon to fire the obnoxious Jerry as he made some offhand and condescending joke to the only female analyst on the staff while crudely staring down her blouse.

"Get your things. I want you out of this office by five tonight.” Gordon had reached across the conference table for the water pitcher, his motions relaxed, but his eyes burning a dark and barely contained fire.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jerry had sputtered, his face red and immediately beading with sweat.

“As you are still young and obviously relatively stupid, I will explain myself this one time. This is for all of you sitting around this table and every man and woman in this office,” Gordon had captured everyone in his dark gaze. “I will not tolerate harassment of any sort. I care little about the sex of my colleagues. I am gay. I do not comment on my fellow male workers’ asses. Why should it be appropriate to notice the shapeliness of our female colleagues’ legs? It is very simple when you work for me. You do it, and I fire you. Alice, what is your current annual salary?”

“$25,000, sir.”

"Donald, your salary?"

"$30,000, sir," a stick of a man with wispy brown hair had answered.

"That hardly seems fair. I believe you were hired at the same time as Alice."

"I have a family to support."

Gordon had leaned back in his chair and smoothed his dark trousers with his palm. "Am I of less value since I am also currently single?" Gordon had asked in a voice that Landon had recognized as dangerous calm. Landon never won when Gordon sounded like that, and Landon was far more resourceful than Donald and had a far better ass.

Donald had opened his mouth, and maybe some gibberish escaped, but no logic.

"As I thought," Gordon had said with maddening calm. 

Landon smiled as he fiddled with the temperature of the water in the shower. He'd never been more proud of his man than at that moment. Their colleagues and staff, who weren't in a constant state of terror, worshiped Gordon. They'd promoted Alice twice since that meeting. It was insane to waste a fine mind and some of the finest education, and after Gordon's easy announcement of his sexual aberration, a woman was suddenly not a novelty. The hard assed gay man as boss was far more the novelty.

Landon had always flounced about, wearing his sexuality like streamers draped behind him. He refused to be intimidated by norms and stuffy society, or at least that was what he liked to believe. Gordon had a different take on Landon's carefree style.

"Your behavior wouldn't be attractive in a young dandy in the roaring twenties, and it is no more attractive today. You do it to irritate your father and everyone else you consider old and stodgy. I won't have it. I will never hide who I am, but I also won't put it on a billboard. That is not being proud of who you are; it's battering people with who you are."

Gordon as always had been true to his word. Even after the announcement of the official engagement, his behavior with Landon in the office had been stiffly proper. They had eaten together and walked shoulder to shoulder, and Gordon had even kissed Landon on the cheek, the quick peck of parents in front of children, but nothing more.

"Landon, breakfast is here." The voice rose over the roaring water of the shower.

Landon, not bothering to dry, pulled a large and decadently fluffy towel around his waist.  Gordon was staring at the odd assortment of breakfast dishes with a furrowed brow.

"What is this?" Gordon pointed at the white mass.

"Grits. It's a southern specialty. I thought we should go native."

"I see that I didn't provide you with adequate instruction. I will rectify that situation in the future. Dress and we'll sample the southern specialties."

Landon flopped down on a chair and reached for a biscuit. The click of Gordon's fingers was almost instantaneous. He pointed at the floor by his feet.

"What?" Landon snapped.

"It seems you wish for me to indulge you, and I'm in the mood. Now kneel, boy, and lose the towel.”