Page 89 of Trevor Takes Care

He hadn’t said as much out loud to G.G. yet, only to Sky, but he would. It was implied, anyway, in Trevor getting up early to help G.G. make cinnamon rolls and double-check ingredients.

“Sorry.” G.G. focused on him, distracted but earnest. “This is a disaster. If the kitchen were bigger….”

The kitchen renovation was on track to begin next year once the winter rain was over. It had been briefly sidelined by the need to turn one of the spare bedrooms into an office and Trevor’s insistence that G.G. needed to consider his yard as a part of the house and not only a storage space for sheds.

But the kitchen being larger wouldn’t have done anything for anyone’s anxiety, which was going to have to be taken care of. Trevor should have anticipated that. Upcoming changes plus a high-pressure event with Trevor’s extended family? It was no wonder there’d been an incident today.

He glanced over the marks on the walls for the upcoming renovation and the changes they were already trying; G.G. did not have a dungeon in his house because he’d never dreamed that he might get to live this way if he wanted to. He still did not have a dungeon, but they’d made some adjustments and would go from there.

Trevor’s gaze fell on the thick eye-bolts screwed into the wall by the door leading outside, which would stay there until the remodel and then perhaps go somewhere more permanent if they worked out.

They seemed to be doing their job so far, as did the large, flat dog bed made of foam and a removable, washable soft cover that had been placed beneath the bolts. It had been purchased more for the size and the easily cleaned cover than for being a dog bed, but admittedly, that part had worked out too, judging from Sky’s somewhat glassy-eyed glare.

Sky had been to Thanksgiving with Trevor’s family last year, and a bunch of other holidays and events as well, so he should not have been upset or anxious about it. He had no reason to act out, or so Trevor would have thought.

The thing about his geniuses, Trevor reflected in a proud yet tired way, was how much their minds were going all the time. They’d find things to be anxious about that even a greyhound couldn’t imagine.

Not that Trevor was comparing them to dogs… anymore.

He gave Sky a quick study to make sure he was okay. The cushion should be protecting his knees and providing some warmth, although the oven had been on for a while, heating the kitchen enough that Sky was probably fine despite only wearing the shorts he’d worn to bed the night before.

The morning before, really, since he’d gotten into bed well after midnight.

Despiteexplicit instructions not to, and ignoring how he could have if he’d spoken to Trevor about it beforehand. There were lots of reasons Sky might want to stay up that were perfectly valid; work deadlines, gaming nights that went long, even an anime marathon was allowed if Sky was off work the next day and he mentioned it to Trevor so Trevor could change the schedule Sky had agreed to.

If Sky had asked, Trevor would have given him permission; catching up with friends around a holiday was a legitimate reason to stay up late even when already tired from work. But Sky hadn’t done that and then had thought he’d sneak into bed without an issue.

It was both in character and extremely strange for Sky to expect Trevor not to respond to it. Much like G.G. fluttering around his kitchen since dawn, checking and rechecking things and barely nibbling the breakfast he’d been at pains to make.

Maybe, once the baking was done, Trevor should tie G.G. to the wall too.

He considered the length of chain going from the lower bolt to the padded restraints keeping Sky’s hands bound behind his back and then the chain that ran from the higher bolt to the front of Sky’s collar. The chains weren’t heavy; they were more for show than anything else. Sky wasn’t gagged. He’d been ordered to be quiet and had surprisingly obeyed.

Partly because he knew he’d fucked up, and partly because the effect of a collar on Sky really was something. Accessories mattered.

Trevor looked into Sky’s expectant expression then turned back to G.G.

“Sky didn’t have any breakfast,” G.G. remarked, worrying about something other than the raspberry-almond Linzer shortbread bars nearly ready to go into the oven or the dough for the apple strudel that was resting on the nook.

G.G. was not inclined to worry over Sky’s punishments, though he would fuss over Sky himself, turning into an especially contented, pink-faced, smiling poodle whenever he got to do nice things for Sky and Trevor together. G.G.’s direct, vocal expressions of love were rare, though not unheard of, and tended to fluster him. Unless he happened to be tipsy at the time, which had occurred once, during last year’s Christmas Eve dinner with just the three of them and Trevor’s grandmother enjoying festive cordials Sky had been sent by someone at his job.

More often, G.G.’s affection showed in gifts left on desks, or G.G. making breakfast and ensuring Sky ate it if Trevor wasn’t there, or in absent nuzzles while G.G. watched TV or read on the couch.

That he was concerned about Sky now might be useful; it meant Trevor had something to use to distract G.G. from his nerves.

“How long until the shortbread thing goes in the oven?” Trevor gently dusted nonexistent flour from G.G.’s cheeks and nose simply to enjoy how G.G. froze in surprise and then submitted to the care, his flushed skin very warm.

“Um.” G.G. had to take a moment to get his thoughts back on the food. Trevor wasn’t sorry. “A few minutes, then the rest of the dough comes out of the fridge and goes on top.”

“Marvelous. You’re incredible, you know.” Trevor kissed G.G.’s nose too, then turned away to have some of his own coffee while G.G. stared after him, stars in his pretty eyes.

Sky’s cup was at the far edge of the counter. Trevor hadn’t wanted Sky to suffer a caffeine-withdrawal headache, so he’d let Sky have some coffee before ordering him onto the cushion. That had been… oh, a while ago now. If Sky had to pee, and he would eventually, especially if he’d had water or tea last night, he knew what he needed to do. Trevor liked watching him squirm either way, and worst-case scenario, Trevor would have to—get to—bathe Sky. Which was a special treat for both of them. Sky would be in agonies of embarrassment but allow it, and curl against Trevor afterward to hide his face and be cuddled.

Trevor could bathe G.G. too, but for G.G. that would be more like pampering instead of torture… which G.G. might need after all this.Yes.Trevor nodded. G.G. would finish this, Trevor would go over to his grandmother’s, and then tonight, he was going to have to arrange something to ensure G.G. was focused on things other than Trevor’s parents and aunts and uncles. After that, Trevor might order him into the bath just for fun.

The face masks and bath bombs had been an unexpected joy to watch G.G. experience. He appeared absolutely confounded by undereye masks and various “self-care” treatments Trevor picked up for him, including scented candles, yet he came to Trevor on his own now, his hands full of options for Trevor to choose from for him to use.

Spa night for G.G., then, Trevor decided. After whatever else, and whatever ended up happening now, which largely depended on Sky.

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