He nodded approvingly to himself as he watched them, feeling a flash of pride at the care they took, the way they helped one another. The new picnic table was really coming along.
He caught his breath as Alex knelt down in the grass, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his white teeth flashing as he laughed in response to something Fox said. He looked young and innocent, impossibly beautiful. Alex handed a length of board off to Fox, who began hammering it into place, his denim-clad bottom raised appealingly as he leaned over, the spare nail gripped casually between his teeth giving rise to all sorts of lurid construction crew fantasies in Walter's mind.
He chuckled. When he got them in bed tonight...
He watched them for another few moments, then stepped out onto the spacious redwood deck that overlooked the large back yard, a smooth sloping expanse of green that led down to a rippling stream, the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley providing a magnificent backdrop.
Walter leaned over the railing and shouted down to his lovers as they worked, a good fifteen feet below.
"It's looking good!"
Fox looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. He gave Walter a delighted little-boy grin.
"Thanks, Walter! You really think so?"
Walter nodded. Alex looked up from the two by four he was marking to be cut, tucked his flat carpenter's pencil behind his ear. His smile was, like this place, almost heartbreakingly beautiful. Walter felt his heart swell with love for them both, for this house they had bought, for the life they had made here in the peaceful, quiet foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
"Absolutely," Walter answered with a grin. "You're both doing a terrific job. I'm proud to see you working so well together."
Beaming, his brats set to their task even more industriously than before. Walter watched them a moment longer and then went back into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea. He poured two more, garnishing them with sprigs of mint from the herb garden in the kitchen window before carrying them down to Fox and Alex.
"Thanks," Alex said, gulping down half his glass of tea all at once. "Mmm, that hits the spot."
He stood and tilted his face up for a kiss. Walter obliged, taking his time despite Fox's good-natured whining that it was his turn now. Once both young men were refreshed and thoroughly kissed, he left them to their work, complimenting them again on the job they'd done so far and reminding them to reapply their sunscreen.
"We put it on when we came out here after lunch," Alex complained. A sensual creature, he loved oils and lotions, the more expensive the better. But he always balked at the smell and the greasy feel of the SPF 50 sunscreen Walter insisted on when they spent any amount of time outdoors.
"Well, you know what recent studies have shown," Walter said, pausing on the wide steps that led up to the deck. "Infrequently applied sunscreen can lead to a scorched butt."
Alex reached for the bottle.
Up on the deck, Walter stretched out in a chaise lounge, his glass of tea on the table beside him. Shaded by the umbrella that stretched over the table, his stomach full, his sounds of young lovers talking and laughing drifting up from the lawn below, Walter felt his eyelids growing heavy. Tossing aside the magazine he had been planning on reading, he folded his arms under his head and sighed.
Life was good.
He couldn't help but grin when he remembered the looks on Alex's and Fox's faces when he'd told them he wanted them to build a picnic table. Alex had merely gestured to the flyer from the local hardware store which lay on the coffee table with the Sunday paper.
"We can buy one for a hundred and ninety-nine dollars, Walter," he'd said airily, reaching for the TV remote. "Why in the world would we want to build one?"
"Because," Walter had said quietly, reaching over and clicking the television off. "It'll give you and Fox a chance to do a project together and you'll have the feeling of accomplishment that comes from building something with your own hands."
Fox and Alex had looked dubious.
"Look at it this way," Walter had said, "sure, we could go down to Lowe's and pick up a pre-made picnic table. And we'd use it and enjoy it. But it wouldn't be the same as if you made it yourselves. This way, every single time we use the table, you'll remember how you worked together, the time you spent creating it."
Not to mention, he'd thought to himself, forcing the two of you to spend some time working toward a common goal instead of bickering.
It had taken some convincing, and a couple of well-placed swats, but eventually Walter had been pleased to see that Fox and Alex were beginning to take an interest. They had indeed gone to the hardware store, but not for a pre-fab picnic table. Instead, Alex and Fox roamed the aisles, piling their baskets high with all the gadgets and tools they thought they would need. Watching their excitement build as they collected the equipment, selected the wood, and chose the paint, Walter felt a sense of pride. This was definitely one of his better ideas.
Listening to them now, happily bantering back and forth over the sound of hammering and sawing, Walter smiled. They'll always remember today, he thought. Years from now, when that table is splintered and old and has about five coats of paint on it, they'll remember this afternoon, how they spent it together with the sun on their skin and the smell of the honeysuckle in the air. They'll remember that cool, sweet iced tea and how the beads of water on the glasses dripped onto their warm bare skin as they drank. They'll remember the rushing of the stream and the birds overhead and the love that we shared here together.
Still smiling, he drifted off to sleep.
The shadows were growing long when Walter was awakened by an insistent tapping. Sitting up, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He must have slept a good three hours! Well, he thought prosaically, better skip that after-dinner cup of coffee.
The tapping came again, from the vicinity of the front porch.
"Coming!" Walter shouted, tripping over the table leg as he rushed indoors.
As he reached the front door, he hesitated.
Oh, no...
Peering through the screen door, his thick glasses almost touching the fine mesh, old Mr. Lazenbee tapped it again with his walking stick.
"Walt!" he said, his voice cracking. "Walt! Y'all home or not?"
"Right here, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, opening the door and stepping out onto the porch. "How are you this afternoon?"
"Well, I reckon I can't complain," Mr. Lazenbee allowed, lowering himself down into one of the rocking chairs and settling into a slow rhythm.
"Would you care for a glass of iced tea?" Walter offered.
Mr. Lazenbee considered this thoughtfully.
"Well," he said again, "I don't mind if I do. Say, Walt?" he added as Walter turned to go back into the house. "How 'bout warmin' that up a little, boy? Strictly for medicinal purposes, you understand. I got the rheumatism. Doc says he done all he can for me but he ain't got sense enough to come in out of the rain, nobody in his family does. Still, I get by. I like a little Lynchburg Lemonade once in a while, if you know what I mean. Loosens the ol' joints right up."
Walter nodded.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Lazenbee. I'll be right back."
Walter went to the kitchen and poured his elderly neighbor a tall glass of tea, reaching up into the cupboard for the bottle of Jack Daniels. He topped the glass off with a healthy dose of the whiskey and turned toward the window, wondering how Fox and Alex were coming along with the picnic table.
"You comin', boy?" Mr. Lazenbee squawked from the porch.
"Yes, sir!" Walter answered, the ice clinking in the glass as he hastily returned to the front porch. "There you go, Mr. Lazenbee," he said kindly, handing the glass to the old man and wondering what he wanted.
Walter sat down in the rocking chair beside Mr. Lazenbee's. The two men rocked in silence, Mr. Lazenbee sipping reflectively at his tea.
Walter resisted the urge to check his watch. It was getting on to dinnertime. But as the sun dipped a little lower and the shadows grew a little longer, Mr. Lazenbee just rocked on, chewing thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe. Mountain folk of his generation couldn't be rushed. Everything came in its own time.
Finally, Mr. Lazenbee broke the silence gruffly.
"Well, hell, Walt. Y'all know I'm mighty pleased to have neighbors again. This old place sat empty long enough."
"Yes, sir," Walter replied respectfully. "We love it here. You've made us feel welcome."
The old man leaned forward a little, pulling a small bag out of his pocket and filling his pipe with loose, aromatic tobacco.
"Well now, that's why I come over," Mr. Lazenbee said. "Y'all know I got no quarrel with you. You're a fine man, been brought up right, I knowed that first time I set eyes on you."
Walter smiled.
"Thank you, sir."
The old man was quiet for a moment as he lit his pipe. He turned in his chair to face Walter.
"Now, I ain't got nothin' against your boys," he said, holding up a leathery palm. "Nothin' at all. They're real well-mannered and respectful."
"Thank you," Walter said again, wondering just how much Mr. Lazenbee had divined of his relationship with his "boys". He thought perhaps the old man, with his Coke-bottle glasses and old-fashioned sensibilities, mistook Alex and Fox for Walter's sons. But sometimes Walter got the feeling that very little got past the old codger.
"But dammit, Walt," the old man continued, irritation beginning to seep into his voice. "How many times I got to tell 'em to stay off my property?"
Walter's stomach did a flip-flop.
"Oh, no..." he said, dismayed. "Don't tell me they—"
"Take a look off your back porch, Walt," Mr. Lazenbee crabbed. "For Pete's sake, they're over there now, trampling my tomato plants and Lord knows what else."
"What?" Walter said, standing up and squinting through the screen door, trying to see down the hallway and out the back door.
"Yep," Mr. Lazenbee said, puffing his pipe. "A couple nights ago I got the twelve-gauge out, heard something out in the yard. And there was your Fox, standing in my azaleas. Damn near gave him a butt full of buckshot afore I saw who it was."
He's gonna get a butt full of something, Walter thought ominously.
"And that other one of your'n, the one with the green eyes. Alan."
"Alex," Walter said, his head in his hand. When he got hold of those two trespassers...
"Yeah, like I said," the old man said, nodding. "Caught him down by my footbridge, crawling in the tall grass like an I-don't know-what. I said, 'what the hell you doin', boy?' and he come up with some nonsense about Fox had him looking for a choopercopper. I never heard the like."
Walter raised his head.
"Choopercopper?" he said, puzzled.
He thought for a moment.
He closed his eyes.
"Oh no," he said quietly. "Chupacabra."
Mr. Lazenbee sat rocking and puffing, unconcerned with Walter's distress.
"Damndest thing I ever heard, anyway," he grumbled.
"Uh, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter began, feeling a little foolish. "I...er...well, Fox seems a little concerned about that cow of yours that turned up dead down by the stream."
The old man looked up in surprise.
"Buttercup?" he said around his pipe. "Aw hell, Walt. I don't know what kind of stories you city folk hear about what goes on up here in the mountains, but there ain't no such thing as no choopercopper. Buttercup crossed paths with a bobcat, is all. They come down out of the hills when they get hungry enough, and it ain't uncommon to lose a cow or a dog or even a child, if you ain't lookin' after 'em. I told your boy that, Walt."
"Yes, sir," Walter mumbled, his face red.
Mr. Lazenbee leaned forward, settling his hat on his head. He stood slowly and extended his hand to Walter. Walter stood as well and shook the old man's hand.
"I hope there's no hard feelins, Walt," the old man said. "I ain't tryin' to be unneighborly. But your boy coulda got shot the other night. And they're traipsin' around down there in my south pasture, right where I lost Buttercup. That bobcat's more 'n' likely still around. There's a lot of undergrowth down there, old wells half-covered up, old traps around. It ain't safe."
"Yes, sir," Walter said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I sure do apologize, Mr. Lazenbee. I promise you, I'll get it sorted out and you won't have any more trouble from Fox and Alex."
Mr. Lazenbee nodded, pausing on the front steps.
"Well," he said with a sigh, fishing in his pocket for his pocketwatch. "I know my Daddy woulda tanned my hide but right for headin' onto somebody else's property without they'd invited me."
Was it Walter's imagination or was that a ghost of a smile on the wizened face?
"You know what they say, Walt," Mr. Lazenbee said, stepping down off the bottom step. "Good fences make good neighbors. Y'all have a good night. Thank you kindly for the tea."
"Good night," Walter answered, heading back into the house. Immediately, he went out onto the back deck. He leaned over the rail and stared at the unfinished picnic table.
Fox and Alex were nowhere in sight.
He counted to ten, then slowly went back into the kitchen and took the chicken breasts out of the refrigerator, started on the salad.
He thought hard as he cooked.
Alex pushed his chair back from the table and patted his belly.
"Walter, you make the best teriyaki chicken this side of Tokyo."
"Thank you, Alex."
"And the roasted potatoes," Fox chimed in, a sated smile on his face. "Just perfect."
"Thank you, Fox."
Walter relaxed at the table, sipping lemonade and reading while Fox and Alex did the cleaning up. When they were done, Walter looked up from his magazine.
"I was thinking it would be nice if we take a walk tomorrow morning, after breakfast."
His brown eyes were warm and without guile.
"Sure," Fox said, leaning down for a kiss. "Sounds great."
"Yep," Alex agreed, claiming Walter's mouth the second Fox was done. "Who's up for a jacuzzi?"
"Race you!" Fox shouted, long legs pumping as he ran for the stairs.
Listening to his brats clattering up the long staircase, Walter took another sip of lemonade, turned a page in his magazine. Contemplated the matter at hand.
"Ready for our walk?" Walter asked brightly as Fox drained the last of his juice and Alex popped the last bite of fluffy scrambled egg into his mouth.
"Let's go!" Alex said enthusiastically, leaning over to tie his shoe and giving Walter a good view of his round butt, so enticingly sheathed in his tight shorts.
"Grab us some bottled water, would you, Fox?" Walter asked.
Fox handed Walter and Alex their water bottles and grabbed one more from the refrigerator for himself.
The morning sun was high in the sky as they set out on their walk, Walter leading the way along the edge of the back yard, under the fragrant wisteria, its beautiful lavender bunches hanging just inches over their heads.
They walked for a little while in silence, following the slope of the long back yard that led down to the stream below. Fox and Alex both wore open smiles, enjoying the springtime sun on their faces. Walter smiled too, but his eyes were troubled. Sometimes, he thought for the latest of many times, it wasn't easy to be the Top. He would have loved to have simply enjoyed the beautiful day together, without dealing with matters of discipline.
A small sigh escaped him as he imagined the three of them completing their walk and returning to the house for a shower together and then spending the rest of the morning in the big bed with its cool cotton sheets. Imagined himself nibbling his way down Alex's long tan spine, dipping down to thrust his tongue into the center of him. Feeling him arch, hearing him hiss and yowl. Wrapping Fox's long legs around himself, watching those hazel eyes half-close, hearing his almost desperate shouts as he came...and came...and came.
Sadly, Walter squelched that line of thought. No, he had a responsibility, to his neighbor and to his brats, and he was going to do what had to be done.
Abruptly, Walter stopped beside a large fallen log. Easily three feet around, it had to have been well over a hundred years old when it was finally felled, most likely by one of the summer storms so common to the area.
Fox and Alex stood, looking around, slightly puzzled.
"What's wrong, Walter?" Alex asked with concern. "You tired?"
"No, Alex," Walter answered. He put his bottle of water on the ground beside the log and gestured with his hand toward the fence behind it, overgrown with tangled vines. "Suppose you tell me where we are."
Now it was Fox's turn to be concerned.
"We're in our back yard, Walter," he said, looking at Alex with wide eyes. "It's pretty hot out here. Maybe we should go back—"
"Fox," Walter said patiently. "I'm fine. Now," he said, pointing at the fence. "What is that?"
"A fence," Alex said slowly, unsure what this was all about.
"Very good," Walter replied, his hands in his pockets. "And why is the fence there?"
"It separates our property from the neighbor's," Fox answered, grinning proudly despite himself when Walter's approving gaze fell on him.
"That's right," Walter said with a smile. "The fence marks the line between our property, on this side," he made a dramatic sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating their own back yard, "and Mr. Lazenbee's property on that side," he finished, pointing over the fence.
Fox and Alex looked at one another, beginning to get the idea that Walter had more on his mind than just a morning walk.
Walter rested his hand on the fallen log.
"This log is a good landmark. It sits directly at the halfway point of the eastern boundary line of our property. Not another one around here like it that I can see," he added, looking around purposefully. "Not this big. So it'll be easy for you to remember."
"R-remember?" Alex stammered softly.
Walter walked over to a young willow tree, a few feet beyond the fallen log. Eyeing the low branches expertly, he selected one and nodded approvingly, cutting it efficiently from the trunk with his pocket knife.
Fox and Alex watched in horror as Walter hefted the slender, whippy switch, making a few experimental cuts in the air. The sound traveled straight up their spines and made their teeth chatter.
"Walter.." Alex whimpered. "Nooo..."
Walter put his hands on his hips and silenced his teary-eyed brat with his best AD glare. Alex swallowed hard and straightened his spine, clasping his hands behind his back. Almost automatically, Fox did the same, bowing his dark head, uncharacteristically quiet.
Walter was pleased to see that the AD hadn't gotten lost on the way from the concrete jungle to the great outdoors.
"Now listen, you two," he said sternly, and waited for two sets of bright eyes to lift and meet his. "You've been told repeatedly not to go into Mr. Lazenbee's back pasture or any other part of his property. He's been a good neighbor to us and we owe him the same respect. If he asks you over, that's one thing, but I will NOT have you—"
"But the cow..." Fox almost shouted. "I'm telling you, Walter, there's no way a bobcat—"
"That's enough," Walter said firmly, taking Fox's arm and guiding him over to the log. "I don't care if an alien spaceship lands on Mr. Lazenbee's north forty. We are all going to respect the man's property. And I've told you til I'm blue in the face how dangerous it is back there. What if one of you stepped in a bear trap?"
Alex bit his lip as Walter beckoned to him with one hand, pointing at the ground beside Fox. Alex moved to stand beside his fellow miscreant, his butt already tingling with dread.
"Wait!" Fox said, his eyes searching Walter's solemn face anxiously. He turned and looked at Alex, troubled by the misery he saw in those clear green eyes. "Walter, I...uh...it was all my fault. Please don't punish Alex. He only went with me because I nagged him to. It was all my idea. I deserve the switch," Fox finished sadly, "not him."
"Well, it may have been your idea, Fox," Walter said, looking back and forth between the two of them. "But a partner in crime is a partner in crime. Alex knew perfectly well that what he was doing was wrong. Didn't you, Alex?"
Alex nodded humbly, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces.
"Yes, Walter."
"And," Walter continued, "would this enduring interest in the paranormal have anything to do with the wild strawberries growing on Mr. Lazenbee's side of the fence?"
Alex flushed guiltily.
"All right," Walter said, somewhat sadly. "Obviously, talking has done no good. Now I'm going to have to make sure that you both learn the lesson and that you remember it. Shorts and boxers down, please, gentlemen, and bend over the log."
Their chins already trembling, Fox and Alex obeyed.
Walter eyed the pale bottoms sticking up in the air as his brats snuffled softly, their dark heads hanging low, fidgeting nervously. The log was the perfect height for Walter's purposes and he flexed the switch in his hands, not looking forward to what was to come.
"I went through the Academy with a Brit. Fellow by the name of Poole. He told me about a very old English tradition called 'beating the bounds'. " He paused and watched as Alex and Fox exchanged nervous glances. "Every year on Rogation Day, the boys of the parish were led through their village and beaten with willow rods at important points along the way, so that for the rest of their lives, they would remember the boundaries."
A distinct tremor ran through both of the naked bottoms on display.
"I'm sorry I have to do this, Fox, Alex. But as I always say, sometimes the old ways are the best. It helped naughty young men remember the boundaries then and I think it'll work just as well now." He paused. "I hope we won't have to do this again."
Having said that, Walter raised the switch and brought it down across Fox's bare bottom.
"OW!" Fox yelped, instinctively reaching behind him to cover his butt.
"Move them, Fox," Walter said patiently. "You're only getting five strokes at each point along the way but I can make it ten. And if you get ten, Alex gets ten."
With a heartfelt whimper, Fox obeyed.
Walter laid the remaining four strokes down hard and fast, leaving Fox choking back sobs. Beside him, Alex lay, tense and anxious.
Walter stepped over to Alex. The switch cut through the air and laid a red welt across Alex's white cheeks.
"Ow...Jesus!" Alex yelled. "Walter, that hurts!"
"Yes, I know it does," Walter said solemnly. "It hurts me to have to do it. But you've earned every stroke. You and Fox trust me to set the limits in our relationship. I never forbid you to do anything without good reason, but when I do, and you break the rules anyway, that's outright disobedience. I've never tolerated that from either of you and I'm not about to start now. Is that clear?"
Alex hung his head.
"Yes, Walter," he said, his smoky voice soft and sad.
Alex got his remaining four strokes and he and Fox slowly stood, their faces red and streaked with tears. With difficulty, they pulled their shorts and boxers up and went willingly into Walter's arms. They sniffled audibly as he pressed them close to him and dropped a kiss on each of their heads.
"Love you both," he whispered. "Let's get this over with."
Glumly, Alex and Fox followed Walter as he lead the way along the fence line as it dipped down toward the small stream that marked the southernmost edge of their property. The three men stopped, the younger two looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"Um, Walter?" Alex said quietly.
"Yes?" Walter replied, looking around for a suitable resting place for his brat's soon-to-be-switched bottoms.
Alex studied the grass as he spoke.
"We're sorry, Walter," he whispered, peering up at his older lover through a thick curtain of lashes. "We really are. We've learned. We won't do it again."
Fox nodded eagerly.
"He's right, Walter. We've learned. You don't have to switch us anymore."
Walter looked at them, his heart heavy with the burden of the task at hand.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Nothing would make me happier. But what would make me happy is not necessarily what's best for you."
He pointed to a boulder close to the edge of the stream.
"Come on now," he urged gently. "I want to get this over with as much as you do."
Slowly, reluctantly, Alex and Fox bared their already-striped bottoms and leaned over the boulder. Walter stood behind them with the switch at the ready.
"The stream marks the southern boundary of our property, gentlemen. See to it that you remember that."
Five sizzling licks across Alex's bare backside was enough to convince him that he would never...ever...forget.
Fox gritted his teeth as the switch lit his butt on fire. One...two...OW, shit!...three...
"Walter, pleeeeeease..."
"Just two more, Fox." Walter's voice was calm but firm. "Stay in position, please, or I'll have to begin again."
Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Fox clenched his poor bottom, knowing it just made it hurt more but unable to help it. He took the last two with a loud groan.
Walter helped them both stand and get their shorts and boxers up. He held them both again, this time one at a time, Alex in particular clinging and reluctant to let go, burying his tear-streaked face in Walter's shirt. Walter held him for several long moments, then kissed him. Reached for Fox, kissed his lips, his forehead, brushed away the tears clinging to the thick lashes that framed his hazel eyes.
"Let's go."
Fox and Alex trudged along, their blazing rear ends burning brighter at every stop.
The old barn that marked the western boundary line. Bending over hay bales, hay pricking them through their shirts and the chaff drifting up into their noses.
The switch cracking down hard, five times each.
Hard to sneeze when you're bawling.
The creaky old gate that opened up onto the dirt road running up to Mr. Lazenby's house, marking the northern boundary line. Two red bottoms upended one at a time over Walter's knee, braced against the bottom of the gate. The switch slicing the air, leaving a lasting reminder on what Walter's grandmother would have euphemistically called "the last piece over the fence".
At last, two bedraggled, sniffling brats slowly climbed the steps onto the back deck, led by Walter, as relieved as they were to have it over.
Standing in the cool kitchen, the late morning sunlight streaming through the window, Walter looked Fox and Alex over, feeling his heart go out to them in spite of himself.
Their faces red, their hair tousled, their eyelashes sparkling with tears, they looked like someone had crumpled them up and thrown them down. Alex looked at the floor, his hands twisting nervously in front of him. Fox chewed his lip, unable to resist the need to rub his stinging backside.
Alex looked up, his face the picture of abject misery.
"Sorry, Walter," he whispered contritely. "I'm really sorry."
"I know, Rat," Walter said with a smile. "Come here."
With a cry, Alex dove into Walter's arms, snuggling close, the tension draining from his body at the feeling of those strong forgiving arms around him.
Walter kissed Alex gently and smoothed his hair back out of his eyes.
"I love you," he said softly, his deep voice like a soothing balm. "I know you're sorry for what you did and I know you'll do better from now on."
Fox stepped forward. It was harder for him sometimes, even more so than Alex, to admit a punishment was justly earned and given.
"S-sorry," he managed, and ducked his head. Walter cupped Fox's chin in his hand, raising the handsome face, kissing away the renewed flow of tears.
"I know, Fox," Walter said quietly. "I know you've learned. I know you won't do it again."
Fox wrapped his arms around Walter, his tears wetting Walter's shirtfront. Walter stroked the chestnut hair, rocked him gently.
"Now," Walter said, giving Fox one more soft kiss before releasing him. "Why don't you two go upstairs and get showered. Change into some sweats, something loose and comfortable. I'll be here waiting for you."
Fox and Alex seemed unwilling to go, needing the reassurance of Walter's presence, his touch, his voice. Many more kisses and soft words were needed before they slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor, their arms around one another's shoulders, to wash each other clean.
Walter was waiting, as promised, in the kitchen when his brats descended the stairs, clad in identical soft grey sweatpants and dark blue T-shirts, white socks on their feet.
They eyed the legal pads and brand-new pens laid out on the otherwise pristine kitchen table with revulsion.
Their outlook did not improve as Walter pulled out two of the hard wooden chairs, from which the soft cushions had been removed, and beckoned to them.
Their lips were arranged in a familiar fashion, Walter observed silently, in what a vigilant Top could certainly construe as a pout. Still, his brats were most of the way through a tough punishment and they'd taken it well, all things considered. He didn't envy them the afternoon ahead.
He'd allow the pouting.
"All right, Alex and Fox," Walter said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You can start with writing a sincere letter of apology to Mr. Lazenbee. And print in large block letters because you know he doesn't see too well. I'm inviting him to dinner tomorrow night. You can give them to him then, right after you finish apologizing in person."
"Yes, sir," two soft voices sounded in unison.
"And when you're done with that," Walter continued, "you will write the following—go ahead and jot this down, please—'The fallen log by the fence marks the Eastern boundary of our property. The boulder by the stream marks the Southern boundary of our property. The old barn marks the Western boundary of our property. The gate marks the Northern boundary of our property."
Two pens scratched morosely on the yellow lined paper.
"I'll have that a thousand times from each of you, please, and neatly. That should keep you busy for the afternoon."
"Yes, sir." Softer than before.
Walter opened the refrigerator and began taking out leftover chicken for chicken salad sandwiches. He opened the cabinet and made sure Fox's favorite chips and Alex's favorite cookies were in ample supply.
"You can stop when lunch is ready but I want you both back at work after."
"Yes, Walter."
The large, airy kitchen was full of the sounds of the birds singing outside, the sound of pens on paper as two dark heads bent over their writing assignment, and the soothing, methodical sound of Walter slicing onions and celery.
Walter paused and looked out through the kitchen window at the beautiful piece of Virginia countryside that had become the sanctuary all three had so long sought. The journey to this peaceful hidden place had been long and hard. But they were here, and they were together.
Smiling, he looked down, got back to his chopping.
He, too, knew the bounds by heart.
Learning the Limits
by Lorelei
Walter put the last of the lunch dishes into the dishwasher and glanced out of the kitchen window, smiling at the sight of his two young lovers working in the back yard. Both Alex and Fox had taken their shirts off and their smooth, tanned skin shone in the early afternoon sunlight.
