DECEMBER 26, 2007

Saturnalia

(Saturnalia takes place the day after Sol Invictus)

Tommy wakes me with a morning blow job.  He’s a good boy, but getting mighty bold now that he knows he’s leaving me.  New Year’s Eve will be his last owned day. 

I can hear twink clattering around, and Laurie being snippy.  I can smell coffee and bacon.  At least Dexter’s doing his duty.

“And me!” says Tommy.   

Damn.  I have to remember not to talk to myself with all these boys around. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, boy.”  He is doing a damn good job. 

I take my breakfast to the sofa and let Dexter feed the crowd of boys at the kitchen table.  Yesterday they had a Christmas treat of dinner with me, but now we’re back to normal.  Despite twink and Laurie being here, I had my best Christmas in years.

Will I never learn?  Think something positive around these boys and they’ll act up right away.  Laurie asks Dexter if there’s anything special about Boxing Day for pagans.  Poor boy: even when he’s trying to be nice, he still sneers.  Dexter bristles at the tone and a boy spat breaks out.  Twink jumps right in and the volume and vitriol increase.

Tommy brings me more coffee.  He sits by my feet instead of going back to the kitchen, and we wait to see if the boys will calm down. 

Laurie hollers at Dexter: “What do you know?  You belong to a dentist!”  He turns to twink and shouts, “and you drive like a Florida grandma.” 

I’m still wondering why Laurie thinks Miles being a dentist is an insult when twink bops Laurie hard and fast on the nose.  Laurie wipes some blood away, then dives at twink. Dexter scampers out of the kitchen.

“Tommy--you and Dexter take twink to the front porch to calm down.  I’ll get Laurie onto the back porch.”

Laurie’s a big lad, but once twink has been dragged away, he lets me march him out. 

“I tried to be nice!” he wails.  “I asked that little shit about his traditions and he got snippy.  And Charlie hit me.”

“Shut up boy.  I saw and heard it all.”

Laurie flops down on the steps and puts his head on his knees. 

“I hate this,” he mutters.  “You all think Dexter and Tommy are so great.  And even twink has Ben in love with him.  No one likes me.”

I sit next to him.  “Need a worm to eat too, boy?”

He lifts his head and gives a rueful smile. 

“Why can’t I get it right?”

“Because you think you’re better than the other boys.  You’re not, you know.  You cling to silly things like your owner being a doctor.”

“I don’t having anything except who he is, sir.” 

“Laurie, I can work on this.  It won’t be fun, but if you want to stay with Simon--”

He nods vigorously.

“Then you both need some help.”

“Yes, please sir.”  He frowns.  “Both of us?”

“Simon sees you as trophy, right?  Another status symbol?  Didn’t you say yesterday you’re just one of his things?”

Laurie nods.  “Yes, but he does love me.  He likes having me at home though.”

“Poor little desperate house boy.  Listen kid, you need to get humble, and you need an occupation of some sort.” 

Laurie snorts.  “Well, fuck, I can hardly sit on the charity boards with the other doctors’ wives.”

“Boy, I was thinking of serving at a food pantry or soup kitchen.”

“Oh,” says Laurie.  “I guess I need to start on that humble thing already, right?”

“Yes, you do.  Now--seasonal amnesty, boy, but fuck up again and you’re in trouble.”

On the front porch, twink is rocking in the swing looking mutinous, and Dexter is looking ashamed.  Tommy just smiles. 

“Tommy--go and supervise Laurie.  He’s been dealt with, so no snippiness.”

Dexter does the smart thing--he kneels and makes a nice apology for being over-sensitive about Laurie.  And, he adds, he’s extra sorry since Miles wants him to get along with Laurie. 

“Ok boy, go inside.  Work with Laurie to make lunch.  Tommy’s in charge.  I’m going to let Miles deal with you.  I think telling Miles you let him down will be enough.”

Dexter’s little mew of misery tells me I’m right. 

It’s just me and twink on the porch.  I grab the side of the swing and stop it rocking.  Twink gives me his rebellious, hurt look. 

“Laurie’s a prick,” he mutters.  “I know I drive slow, but it’s my owner’s car and his insurance rates.”

“Laurie has just lost the boys their privilege of being driven on boys’ night out.  No car so no spending the taxi money on treats anymore.  I may even suggest you all use the bus.”

Twink smiles.  “Thank you sir.  I like driving for Ben, but it’s really stressful driving with all the boys jammed into the car.  And Laurie teases while I drive.  He pretends I leave the turn signal on.” 

I sit down next to him.  “Now--that punch.”

Twink groans.  “Sorry sir. I’d had enough of him being mean.  He doesn’t even try.  I know I screw up, but I do try to be good.”

I’m not going to let twink know that I was quite impressed with him landing a blow like that instead of a bitch slap, but since I offered Laurie an amnesty I simply tell twink that Ben will get a report from me about his behavior. 

***

By mid-afternoon, the boys are getting silly again.  Twink has tried to kiss me under the mistletoe one too many times, Dexter is retreating into shyness again, and Tommy is increasingly detached from them all.  He’s supervising well, but is clearly no longer one of the boys.  Laurie is sliding in little jibes here and there.

I’m getting a touch of cabin fever myself, and set off for a walk in the woods with Tommy.  Although he may stop being mine in a few days, we’re planning on him staying for a few weeks after New Year’s and we’re shifting to a companionable state rather than owner and boy already. 

He bursts out laughing and points at a tree.  I squeeze his arm, and say: “I know boy, but don’t you dare tell twink the woods have holly.  He’s so proud of bringing me decorations.”

“That’s so twink,” Tommy says.  “Bringing pine and holly to a cabin with woods.”  He pauses.  “He’s a good kid, isn’t he, sir?”

I grunt.  “He’s well-intentioned, and Ben loves him.”

Tommy snorts back.  “John Fell, do you ever admit to being pleased?”

I grab him and tickle him until he begs for mercy.  Tommy is panting and laughing as we lie together in a heap of old leaves. 

“You please me, Tommy.”

Tommy sighs, and butts his head against my chest.  “I liked being yours Dr. Fell.”

We’re getting dangerously close to smush, so we get up, dust off, and turn back to the cabin.  Dexter is on the porch, swaddled up in a quilt.  He beckons at me.  He has a funny look on his face: half mirth, half anxiety.

“Sir!  Sir, Laurie took my book away and was being mean, but then he read about saturnalia, and he’s talking twink into a feast of misrule thing since he says it’s a Boxing Day tradition.  I’m meant to be out here to distract you.”

Tommy is puzzled.  “What’s Saturn nails ya?”

Dexter hoots, and then covers his mouth with his hand.  “Sorry.  It’s one of those upside down traditions where the rulers have to serve.  Laurie said he’s bigger than Dr. F and there are four of us and only one of him.”

“And is twink going along with this?”  I ask.

“Sort of.  I don’t think he wants to, but Laurie’s bullying him.  I ducked out by offering to be lookout.” 

“And he thinks I’d join in?” says Tommy. 

Dexter shrugs.  “He says you’ve got nothing to lose so you probably would join us once you saw we three topping Dr. Fell.”  He giggles, and sings, “we three boys disoriented are!”  He pauses, then apologizes.  “I’m a bit giddy sir.  It’s so nice out here in the woods and it’s going to snow!  I can smell it in the air.”

“Tommy--go inside and test the waters for me.  Tell me if twink is being bullied or if he’s joining in.  I’ll let them think Dexter is delaying me.  Shove up, kid, let me share that quilt.” 

Dexter and I swing on the porch.  It’s snug with two bodies under the quilt.  If only I had a cigar, it’d be perfect.  Dexter is being wicked under the covers.  I knew there was a good reason why I don’t let boys share my blankets--his cold hands are everywhere. 

His head disappears under the covers, and I forget about his freezing hands or wanting a cigar.  I look out at my woodlands, feel a hot mouth on my prick, and watch the snow start to fall. 

Dexter stays on his knees hugging my legs under the covers for a bit after I come, and then he scrambles up next to me.  He gasps when he sees the snow and sneaks his hand into mine.

“Sir?”

“What boy?”

“Can we have a feast of misrule?”

I give him an amazed look--my mellow mood is gone.  “What?”

“Oh, not you,” qualifies Dexter.  “Sir, no!  I mean Laurie thinks he’s the boss of us, but perhaps he has to serve twink since he’s so mean to him.”

I laugh aloud.  “Brilliant, Dexter.  But I think he serves you.  Maybe if Tommy says twink held out against Laurie, it can be both of you.” 

Dexter gives the first grin I’ve ever seen on his serious little face.  “Thank you sir.  I do owe him for that crack about Miles being a dentist.  He’s such a snot about being a doctor’s boy.”

I ponder for a minute about the wisdom of my next act, but I feel mean on Dexter’s behalf.  “You do know Simon is a dermatologist, don’t you?  Not a brain surgeon or anything.”

Dexter gives a smothered squeal of delight, and then heroically says, “Dr. Fell, dermatologists are really important.  It’s not just zits and Botox.”

I ruffle his hair.  “Boy, Simon is a very good doctor who does important work with cancers.  But, there’s no harm in taking Laurie down a peg or two.  If you can’t do it, just tell twink what Simon does--his silliness will run wild.”

Tommy is tapping at the window, so we head in and then stop: The coup has taken place in our absence. 

Laurie is trussed up in front of the fire, and twink is tying a last knot. 

“Honestly Laurie,” he says as he gives it a tug.  “How could you ever think I’d mess with Dr. Fell after all he’s done for me?”

“Look at Botox Boy!” blurts Dexter his teasing qualms already vanished. 

“So, Tommy, I see twink has declared for the angels?”

“Yes sir, he was steadfast.”

“I was trapped!” wails Laurie.  “They set me up.”

Dexter gives Laurie the finger and rather unkindly does it with his tattooed ring finger.  I can’t blame him for rubbing in that his owner has made a public commitment to him; however, if only Laurie would stop being such an irresponsible little bastard, Simon is crazy enough to want him permanently. 

“Tea, sir,” says Tommy, and, just to heighten the gap more, I invite the boys to sit around the kitchen table with me and share the tea.  Laurie is sobbing in the living room, but none of us show remorse.

Twink leaps up when I tell him he and Dexter get their own personal saturnalia with Laurie as their plaything. 

He dances around singing, “Jingle Fell!  Jingle Fell” at the top of his lungs until Tommy slaps his butt.

“Don’t make Sir regret this!”

“Thank you boy.  Nicely done.”

***

Dexter and I are on the sofa--Laurie is Dexter’s foot rest--and Tommy is helping twink with the dinner dishes.  Laurie waited on the boys acceptably. Because I want to encourage Dexter and make Laurie suffer, I ask Dexter to tell me about his solstice. 

“It was lovely, sir.  You saw my book, and I got to show Miles my traditions, and Luke’s owner sent me a new sweater so the Jolakottur wouldn’t get me. ”

“What’s that?” asks Tommy from the kitchen. 

“The Yule Cat,” I say, and then bite my lip.  Bugger.  That was a slip. 

Dexter is already giggling and saying Dr. Fell knows everything--even without google-fu, but then he realizes I’m uncomfortable, and switches his chatter to telling twink and Tommy about how Brin’s grandparents grew up somewhere in Scandinavia and used to give him new clothes every solstice to stop him being devoured by the giant child eating cat.  I hadn’t realized before today how close Dexter has grown to Luke, but it seems he’s coming out of his shell more since Samhain.  Enough that Luke’s owner, Brin, is taking an interest in his rituals. I’m pleased with him, and I make a note to keep an eye out for Luke.   

Twink is babbling that Ben’s name is Erikson so perhaps he knows about it and maybe next year he can milk it for a new holiday outfit.

“Silly,” says Tommy.  “Dexter just said only good boys get the new clothes so the cat knows who to leave.” 

He and twink start a dishcloth fight, but it’s amiable and I leave them be.

Dexter squeezes my hand.  “How did you know sir?” he whispers.

“Don’t be nosy, boy, but, if you must know, Pol used to tease me with it.”

“Who’s Pol? I never heard of him before.”

“You boys don’t know everything about my life.”  I’m shocked at my defensive tone, and I can tell Dexter will think he’s unearthed another Rob--and nothing could be further from the truth--so I squeeze his hand back, and say, “a college professor I knew.  A mentor.”  I poke Laurie with my toe.  “Play with your toy, Dexter.  You only have an hour left until he’s released from belonging to you and twink.”

Twink shoots out from the kitchen already fashioning a leash from dishcloths.

“Dexter!  Let’s play Christmas Puppy!  I want to teach him to walk to heel.”

“And pee outside!” says Dexter with an unholy delight. 

“Muzzle him first, please.  I don’t like hearing badly trained dogs.” 

“Yes sir!” cries twink and finds one of his own gags. 

Laurie is sobbing and tries to hold my ankles as Dexter puts on his makeshift leash.  I move my feet. 

“You brought it on yourself boy.  Now suck it up.  Be a good sport about it and I’ll factor it in to your booked punishment tomorrow.  Be a little shit, and I’ll tell Simon to cancel your Aspen trip.” 

Laurie gives one last angry look, then dips his head to help Dexter collar him, and then lets twink gag him with no fuss.  He crawls off at twink’s heels and spends the next half hour begging, trotting, and rolling over.  Tommy convulses with laughter and uses twink’s phone to send snaps to the other boys.  It’s not kind, but Laurie has made them all, except perhaps Colby, feel worthless at some point.  I take pity after a little bit when I see that Dexter really might have him pee outside.

“Give your pet a bath, boys.  He’s dirty.  Scrub him down, and then you can all have supper.  Tommy--kitchen duty.”

There are shrieks and giggles from the bathroom and a blob of foam shoots out at one point, but I’m back to mellow. 

After the boys are fed, they sprawl in a heap in front of the fire while Tommy is allowed to have a soak in the tub.  Laurie earns my good will by curling up with them and showing no resentment.  They snuggle like happy puppies.  I enjoy watching three boys a-squirming for a bit, and then I toss a quilt over them and express the hope they can finally learn to sleep nicely together with no pinching or squabbling.  They chorus “Yes, Dr. Fell,” and I head to my study for a new bedside book.  As I come out, nose already in the text, I’m tackled by flying heap of three boys.

“Misrule!” yells twink, but he’s just messing with me.  To my outrage, they can hold me still long enough to smooch me one by one under the mistletoe.  At least no one took a damn photo.

***

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