The Day

 Title: The Day
Author: Dice
Pairings: Josh/Tim

*****

I was having a day. Oh, you know the type I mean, yeah… one of those!

Breakfast: Juice, oatmeal, fruit… not exactly, but that's what my schedule says I should eat, but what's wrong with chocolate? It's got nutrients… well, it says nuts.

I know someone who won't find out anyway. My newest, worstest friend in the whole world… Mr G.

Yeah, corny, I know, but it started out as a joke. When my other friends, my posse of three of the gayest queens you'd ever see, met him. I introduced him as Josh Gilbert and they went all over the place with his name being Gilbert – and so now he's Mr G to everyone I know… not that he knows that exactly.

So how did I meet Mr G? Online… of course, my entire love life, strike that, life would be impossible without Hot `n' Bad dot com, very nice crowd… honestly, if you're into a bit of kink and everyone I know *is* into a bit of kink.

Or a lot of kink.

My screen name is naughtylocks – also very much an inside joke that went way too far and that I got stuck with. It originally came from a date of mine that ended with me dressed in a frilly dress standing in a phone booth downtown.

Still, not the worst date I've had by the by. Handcuffed to a balcony railing in a rain storm… that was a bad date. For the record, I don't like that much kink!

I've met a lot of nuts online. But back to Mr G. who's not a nut, though my friends think one of us must be crazy because I've been seeing him for two weeks and we haven't fucked yet.

What have we been doing for two weeks, then, you may ask. Running. Kissing. Running some more, showered together, got my ass well and evenly tanned… at the fucking tanning salon!!

I seriously don't know where this is going, but when Mr G saw my picture – which my friends say is totally hot – he sent me a PM calling my ass too skinny to lay a belt on safely. I didn't get back to him for three days, but by then I was so riled up I sent him a message telling him he was mean.

OK, so that's the understatement of the century. I guess some of the things I called him would've gotten me banned if he'd reported it, but he didn't. He just wrote back: you could use a belt lain on that skinny ass of yours though, how about coffee?

But… there's been no belt. There's been coffee though. We hit it off like nobody's business as soon as we met and he was kissing me up and down within the first afternoon.

Two days after our first date, he had me running with him on his usual route – did I mention I hadn't ran since high school? I was a bit rusty, and he actually gave me a piggy back ride up the last hill. Oh, and then he sent me a schedule "to put some meat on my skinny ass" and to make me keep up with him.

I've been lazy though, mostly because I really, really want to see what he'll do, if he'll do anything. He keeps giving my bottom "love taps" whenever he can, but he just doesn't go further. Problem is, I've never actually asked anyone to spank me unless I was 100% certain that they were already going to.

I'm scared really. What if he doesn't want me like that? He's a great friend and I would hate to lose him, but I'd love to fuck him and even more I want him to grab me with those big hands, flexing his manly muscles and just let me have it.

Is that too much to ask when you meet someone at Hot `n' Bad dot com? Honestly?

Ah, well, back to my day. Leaving the house, chocolate bar in hand, I realised I had the same t-shirt as yesterday – knowing me, that's just short of a disaster! Of course, I had to go up and change, which meant I missed my bus.

In other words I was late for my run with Mr G. I hadn't been late before. You'd think it would be one of the first things to try if you're dying for a butt warming, but I hadn't. I'd been too eager to see him really.

He wasn't waiting by the bridge like he usually did and one look at my watch I knew there was no way I'd catch him if he'd started off at seven like usual. I picked up my cell to call him, but then I remembered he always forced me to turn it off during the run – which you have to agree is totally insane to comply with, I mean sure, the sound, even the vibrator, but it's not like we're on a plane! It's not like we're going to crash into the fucking river if the phone rings, or god forbid I receive a message!

He uses his phone to call or get calls from other people. That's it. He doesn't use SMS and he didn't even know he had a camera in it! I mean he's not old! Not really, I don't count them old at thirty five, I've dated sixty – and sixty is pushing it a bit when you're not even half that yet. He – Mr G – says he's got e-mail if people want to write him, so why would he want to stress his fingers trying to write on an object that's purpose was from the very beginning to eliminate the need of writing in favour of auditory transfer.

Yeah, he talks like that. I admit, I get off on it.

Anyway standing by the bridge I was feeling a little at a loss. I had been stood up in the past, but I'd never been out run.

Well, I don't know why, but I after waiting for a few more minutes – knowing full well that there wasn't a chance in Hades he could actually be later than I'd been – I decided to make a go without him.

I headed off over the bridge and down the street at a slightly slower pace than he would normally set and ran passed the painters and the kids playing ball, our usual route. I even sped up a bit when I realised I wasn't getting tired.

So, this took me about double the time it would take him and me, ok not really, but it did take longer. Still, to my personal delight I wasn't half as sweaty as I usually was and I felt rather good about myself. After all, hadn't I just gone on a run all on my onesies? Not being prodded, poked or in any way coerced?

Resting my elbows on the stone wall next to the river, I dug out my half eaten chocolate bar from my pocket and took a bite, mulling over what type of excuse might possible result in a stern, but pleasant contact between his hand and my ass next time we met.

"So, you call that breakfast, Timothy?"

I spat chocolate half way across the river. Turning around, I felt my ears going red and my cheeks turning white and then switching. Mr G was standing beside me and now he leaned forward also resting his elbows on the wall.

Had he just got here, or had he been waiting? Of course he'd been waiting, was I stupid? He'd probably run twice as fast without me!

"Hello, Josh," I said – I'd nearly called him sir, the thought made me flush even more. "Sorry I missed you back there," I made a vague gesture towards the bridge, which was a blurry line a few miles back from where I'd come.

"Yeah, I'd thought you'd call," he said, giving me a look that made me feel like I was worth little more than the chewed chocolate floating in the river. "Left my phone on…"

He'd left it on. He had broken his sanctified code of meditative freedom of the running god! Wow, that was kind of touching… no shit, that was sensational! I felt my ears flush so fiercely you might've easily used them to fry an egg – but it was with sheer, unadulterated elation. I didn't know where to look, so I stared straight at him for an eternity. He raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, er… um… I was… I thought… I was going to… but… I… er… well, you… you know… usually…" I stuttered like a tongue tied tourist with a tranquiliser dart stuck in his neck and pulled a face.

"I usually turn it off… yeah… so you're forgiven – for that," but not for all my other vices and erroneous ways.

"Shucks, you think I might be in trouble?" I said and gave him a plain look of pleading mischief. He met my eyes and looked at me hard. Not a glimmer of playfulness, not even a hint of curiosity.

"Want some real breakfast, Tim?" he asked, straightening up, letting the moment slip us by.

"Sure…" I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

He bought me a sturdy breakfast of orange juice, oatmeal and an apple. He had coffee – obviously he'd ate long before he went on his run and he'd stressed the importance of eating properly enough times that the words – if not the belief – were imprinted on my soul with a verbal branding iron.

"I can't eat that much…" I said with a laugh, he shot me an intense look and I shrank in my seat.

"Don't fucking tell me you still start your day with one of those snacks?" he said in a low, but perfectly clear and crisp voice. "I'm… don't get me wrong… you're an adult, you're free to ruin yourself in any way you see fit…"

"Provided it's legal in this state…" I tried to make a joke, but he was showing an acutely humourless side, that I hadn't seen before. Well, he could be as serious as a stab wound when he was talking about things that were important to him, but he never failed to break out smiling when I let my smart mouth run – right now though, I felt like a ten-year-old caught leaving the toy store with a not so free sample.

He shook his head, a slightly disgusted look on his face as he eyeballed me. I drew a deep breath and took a bite of my apple.

"I know I should be taking better care of myself, I have been trying, Josh… I'm not a total waste of space…" I muttered sarcastically, chewing slowly.

"Nobody's calling you a waste of space!" he snapped. "I'm just pointing out that you seem to be doing your damnedest to truly piss me the hell off… and you've finally got me there. Yeah, that's right, I'm really fucking pissed with you, my friend… I doubt it's an entertaining experience," I felt like Snow White trying to swallow a piece of the poisoned apple. I couldn't look anywhere. I felt terrible.

"I'm not trying to piss you off…" I said awkwardly. I felt like fleeing, but couldn't move, my stomach had turned to ice and my legs were numb.

"Don't lie to me!" he lowered his voice even more and leaned forward slightly, I fidgeted and looked away, leaning back in my seat, rather not hearing what he had to say. "You're acting out like some kindergarten brat, trying to push me into action! I don't play that game! If you want something from me, be man enough to ask for it!"

"You'd think it'd be pretty damn obvious what I want! Fuck you!" I snarled, feeling trapped and defensive. He shook his head with a disgusted look on his face and got up.

"Know what? I don't need another brat complicating my life. Why don't you give me a call when you grow up!" he said and then he walked out on me.

I remained where I was, staring at the table. The apple sat forlorn and uneaten in my hand.

"…and then…" I sniffled loudly and blew my nose, "… then he… he said call me when you grow up!" I wailed.

"Uhuh…" Kit flipped a page over in the magazine he'd found under my mattress, "are you coming to the club or what?"

I glared at him. Unburdening my broken heart to Kit was like trying to run head first through a wall – it made no sense to try. I flopped down over my pillow and bawled some more.

The phone rang. I burrowed my face deeper down in the pillow and continued sobbing. Kit got up and I could hear how he rolled his eyes in the dramatic sigh he left behind him as he went to pick up.

"I'm not here!" I cried after him.

"Cry-baby's residence, the wet shoulder speaking," I heard him answer.

"I hate you, you fucking jerk!" I screamed, flying up from the bed.

"No, he's busy sharpening his razors and filling up the tub… what do you want, asshole?" I flinched and hugged my pillow to my chest where I stood. Kit might not be the type to hold your hand through the heartache, but he did a heck of job being bitchy to the reasons for my tears and always managed to strike out viciously against anyone he was mad at on my behalf.

"Whatever, kiss my ass…" Kit's eyes grew slightly larger and then he hung up. "Fucker…"

"What did he say…?" I could hear my voice tremble.

"Nothing, whatever," he shrugged. "The club, coming, or not?!"

"Don't feel like it…"

"Suit yourself, I'm going now!" he picked his jacket up and ditched me… just like that.

I sat alone on my couch for a while, thinking about calling Greg or Max, but Greg was with his latest boyfriend and Max, well he was probably studying.

I sniffed. It wasn't like this was the worst ever break up in my history of messy break ups, ha, messy, try glass throwing, chair wielding, cop calling break ups, this one was by far one of the more civilized… of course maybe it wasn't even a break up. We'd never truly been a couple. The though made me roll off the couch and curl up crying on the floor, still hugging the pillow to me chest.

The buzzer was loud and incessant. It refused to heed my piercing glares and muttered curses and I finally gathered myself up and clambered over to the speaker, pushing the button with a little more force than strictly necessary.

"What?!" I demanded irately, although it probably sounded a bit more like a plaintive `butt' since I was choked up from crying.

"Hi, it's me," the voice on the other side said and I stood frozen, the calm, husky tone impeding my ability to think of anything to say. "Can I come up?" he continued gently and I nodded. "Tim, I can't see you nodding, press the button, please," I heard him smiling and felt my ears flush hotly.

"Yes, sir," I said quietly.

"Are you all right?" he said when we sat on my couch with a beer each. He was sitting comfortably, arms stretched out on the armrest and back of the couch, I was picking at my pants and feeling completely gross and unattractive – my face was red and swollen from crying, my hair was a mess and I still hadn't showered since morning and I had the same t-shirt and sweatpants on, which in itself was a capital offence in my book.

"I'm fine," I lied with a casual shrug.

"God, Tim, I didn't mean for you to… get like this," he said, putting his beer down and reaching out towards me. I turned away and moved slightly further from him.

"Like what? I'm fine, I'm great… really, I'm super!" I snarled. "I didn't even slash a vein or anything!"

He snatched me up quicker than I could think and I gasped as I landed face down across his lap. It was a very familiar position, but one that never failed to scare the crap out of me and over his strong thighs I felt even more exposed and vulnerable than usual.

"I told you, you little fucker, I don't play that game, but if it's the only way you know how to ask, then fine! So be it!" his hand landed shockingly hard on my ass and I whimpered meekly, he lifted it again and again it fell, eliciting a new moan. "You need to quit hiding behind those clever comments, Tim, and don't ever joke around about cutting yourself!" he stressed every word with a spank that left me gasping and then sped up as he continued.

"I've been there, I've dealt with messed up kids who'd rather hurt themselves than come out and ask for what they want! It's no joke!" He snatched my sweatpants down at the last words and I drew in a sharp breath as the spanking continued now on my bare bottom.

It was probably the hardest spanking I've ever taken without screaming, but I couldn't get the sound out. On and on it went, relentlessly for half an hour at least, though I can't be sure, since I never bothered to set the clock on the video, which was about the one thing I could see from my position. I was breathless and crying soundlessly when he let me up, I'd kicked off my pants at some point during, but that was the least of my concerns.

I clutched at him and he held my trembling arms as if he knew precisely where I needed support. I stared up into his face and sniffled helplessly.

"Wow," I said and then broke down crying again, but with loud sobs. He chuckled and pulled me close.

"There now, I've got you," he assured me and I wasn't sure whether to take that as a promise or a threat. "Hey, are you gonna sit up, or do you want to go lie down?" he asked softly when my crying was finally a quieter sniffling; by that time I was feeling the afterglow of a long hard spanking and it was very much affecting a certain willful part of my anatomy.

"Will you lie with me?" I asked and dared give him a tiny grin. He stood up and pulled me along. I gave him a tear wet kiss and he buried both hands in my hair letting his lips trail down my throat and kissing my collarbone and shoulder.

My bare ass made sudden, disagreeable contact with my bed and I jumped halfway up again, but he was already pushing me back down, forcing me to stay on my back, my tender backside rubbing against the covers and I keened, pressing up against him. He laughed at me and shook his head with a wicked grin.

"Oh no, butt on the bed," he said softly and then sterner, "no, Tim, butt on the bed!"

"Asshole," I mumbled and caught the glint in his eye before he turned me over and landed a hard smack on my already sore butt, then he turned me back before I had even had time to object. It stung like fury and I blinked away a new onset of tears, but he simply held me until I surrendered and relaxed onto the bed, my whole body feeling the pain in my bottom.

"That's better," he offered, which was an utter lie, this was as far from better as I could get.

"You're good at this… sir," I said between clenched teeth, he laughed and raised an eyebrow. "The strict top thing, you're very good at it," I explained.

"And you want me to be strict, don't you, Tim?" he asked, his tone growing more serious.

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

"Couldn't you have just said so then? Instead of pushing and playing games?" he stroked my hair away from my face.

"I wasn't playing games…" I began while looking anywhere but straight up at him where he hovered like a zeppelin above me, still in the corner of my eye I saw the set of his jaw and the frown deepening. "Besides, you can't be mad at me, anymore, you spanked me!" His stern face grew warm and he grinned at me.

"Is that one of the Tim commandments?" he asked and stuck his fingers into my ribs, making me sit up and he rolled onto his back with me straddling him. "I'm not mad, I just like to know that my partners know what they want and that they know I know."

"Oh, I know what I want," I assured him, kneading his bulging jeans with one hand and trembling touching my own hard on with the other.

"Mhm, right now I'm sure you do," he agreed smugly, grabbing my hands and turning me over again. I landed hard on my ass again and yelped. "But how about the rest of the time, if you want a top… ask for it!" he ordered.

God! Yes! I wanted a top, did he have to wonder? Wasn't it written on my forehead with neon letters, in several languages even? I wanted someone big, strong and strict, who'd love me and lead me and who would spank me when I needed it… I looked pleadingly at him, imploring him to read my mind.

"You know how hard it is to ask?" I said sullenly when he refused to comply with my very reasonable wish for him to develop telepathic powers just for me.

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

"You only have to ask once, Tim," he answered.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Easy. Ask once. But what if he said no? I glanced up at him, technically, my sore behind ought to be enough confirmation that he was not saying no, but I was such a wimp. It was always easier to have other people decide what I wanted. Which was why I was a submissive… right?

No… I know, doesn't work like that, the sub is the one in control, the one calling the shots, blah, blah, blah… bullshit! It's hard to pretend you have any say when the only thing keeping you from getting more than you can take is a flimsy little safe word. To me those have always been more of a formality, a little light at the end of the tunnel that I know I'll never use. But that's me… I may be damaged, Kit says so.

In any case, I didn't want to ask for it! I glared at him and then looked down, swallowing.

"Will you… will you, please, top me, sir?" I couldn't believe those words were coming out of my mouth, but they felt so incredibly right I wouldn't have taken them back for anything.

"Yes," he whispered, his breath on my neck prickling my skin with excitement, he caressed my face with both hands, trying to make me look at him. "I'll top you, Timothy, now and every day for the rest of your life, if you want."

I shot him a sceptical look and then I pushed him off me with a laugh, making him dart back up and grabbing me from behind as I tried to flee. He wrestled with me for a moment, both tickling me and adding a few stinging marks to my sensitive rear. I ended up pinned underneath him again, butt firmly pressed against the covers and wriggling with pain and laughter.

"You're going to have to wear white, darling, I'm not getting into a dress ever again!" I stated with a giggle.

Can you believe asking your top to get into a wedding dress warrants a spanking? I can.

~ The End ~

Or almost…

"Ow!" my head shot up at the sound of Kit's outraged voice in the living room. He came into the bedroom and let his back pack go on the floor with a vicious and suspiciously gleaming glare towards the door as he kicked it shut.

He gave his backside an almost casual rub with one hand before he dropped down on my bed and turned a reproachful frown on me.

"Your asshole top just landed a wallop across my ass!" he accused belligerently.

"Uhu…" I said with a smirk, "are you coming to the club or what?"

Kit grinned and threw a pillow at me.

~ The Real End ~