Page 26 of Expanding Command

Miles was so worried about hurting him. But what if he was the one who ended up hurting Miles?

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15 - Taking the Lead

Miles Bennet

I fucked up. I shouldn't have told him.

The thought that plagued Miles for the rest of the afternoon was wrong, of course. But it was still hard not to worry as he watched Tristan pulling away from him. They'd snuggled and talked on the picnic mat until their husbands had returned, but Tristan had grown more and more subdued. When Darren and Leander had returned, Tristan had let his more outgoing husband dominate the conversation as they cleaned up and meandered off to feed the aforementioned ducks.

Maybe he needed time to process things, Miles tried to tell himself. It was important for Tristan to understand. Meeting a casual partner was one thing, or even someone who hadn't known him before everything had gone down. But he couldn't hope to build something lasting with Tristan - especially not something as important as the relationship of Master and sub - while holding something back that was this important.

I have to do right by him this time. Even if it means not moving forward after all.

"You alright?" Darren murmured quietly, finding a moment to step close to him while they fed the ducks. Leander had spotted some ducklings, dragging his partner off down the riverfront.

Miles badly wanted to talk to him, though the others weren't so far away that he didn't worry about them overhearing. He nodded vaguely. "Had that heavy conversation. We can talk later."

Darren searched his gaze, surely reading his conflicting feelings. He nodded silently and slipped a hand into his to give it a squeeze. Miles was sure his smile was meant to be reassuring, and he tried to focus on that. He wasn't alone in this. Darren would know what to do.

Still, as they made their way to the car and home, it was hard not to be distracted by worrying about what might happen next. Should he be coming up with a contingency plan? Maybe Tristan needed time to sit with things. Despite what he and Leander had talked about that morning, they didn't have to push any kind of playtime. It wasn't so late in the day that he and Darren couldn't head back to New York if they needed to. They could plan to drive up again, maybe even as soon as two weeks later, on the next weekend when he and Darren didn't have the kids. It would give all of them time to reflect, plan, and talk through anything, not only this.

He had to believe that Tristan would still give him a chance.

Settling in the back seat of Leander's very nice sedan, Miles looked at the back of Tristan's head as they drove. His own thoughts drifted to the past. From the day they'd met, Miles hadn't been able to help but adore him. Tristan had been small and shy and far too serious, but he'd made Keith smile. He'd actually followed his younger brother's hyper-fixated ramblings in a way that no-one ever really managed other than their mother and sometimes teachers. Miles had been so grateful for Keith finding a friend, he'd taken Tristan under his wing immediately.

It wasn't that he'd forgotten how much younger Tristan was. But somewhere along the line, it had stopped mattering, especially after the accident. He'd already started to feel alienated from his friends when all they talked about was girls. At some point, he'd realized that all their jokes about getting half-chub when a pretty girl walked by weren't actually a euphemism. It was impossible not to worry about why he'd never felt the same. He might have wondered if he was gay then, but he'd never been attracted to a guy, either.

It was easy to pull away from his friends after the accident. They were sympathetic but awkward; none of them understood what it was like to lose a family member, let alone two. But he'd seen the dark emptiness of loss that plagued his own heart reflected in Tristan's eyes and found comfort in it. It wasn't about filling that emptiness with something else. He just needed to know that someone understood at least one of the reasons he felt so broken and alone.

Then Tristan had kissed him.

Even now, remembering that day, the kiss was like being hit by a freight train. The shock of realizing that Tristan desired him, then being overcome with a rush of heat unlike anything he'd felt before. It wasn't that he'd never been horny, of course, but it had always been strangely abstract. His young explorations with jerking off had been much more about sensation and the pleasure of release than any kind of fantasy. Or he'd imagined himself pressed close to a faceless girlfriend, murmuring words of love. Having Tristan pressed so close to him focused all of that desire in his beloved friend, followed by the overwhelming need to pull his trembling form closer, to hold him and reassure him and kiss him until Tristan was as helpless with need as he was.

He couldn't, of course. Despite Tristan being more mature than almost everyone his own age, he was still only a sophomore. Far, far too young for everything Miles's body was screaming for.

Still, it was hard not to wonder now how things could have been between them if he'd given in. Or even if he'd somehow kept things appropriate and returned after his young friend had graduated. Miles wouldn't have traded his children for anything - he'd go through that disastrous marriage a hundred times for them - but it was impossible not to imagine a world where he'd built his adult self on the security of Tristan's quiet, steadfast partnership. Would he have turned to alcohol so easily? Would he have even chosen the same career path?

You wouldn't have needed to seek out Darren, a voice said in his head, stopping that train of thought completely. He wouldn't trade Darren for anything. And Darren had made him a better partner now than his confused, lonely eighteen-year-old self could have ever been. He had to believe that the trials he'd been through had made him stronger, too.

He hoped to God Tristan would still give him another chance now.

"We're going to take a few minutes to freshen up, if that's okay?" Darren said as they arrived at their house, going inside.

"Good idea. Us too." Leander wrapped an arm around his husband's waist and steered him towards the stairs.

Part of Miles ached to go after them and apologize, even if he didn't know what for. Telling Tristan everything had been the right thing to do. Instead, he followed Darren down to the small guest house they'd slept in, watching as Darren punched in the door code. "I'm wondering if we shouldn't offer to drive back tonight. Give us all some time to think things over before we get more serious. Negotiate and all that."

Darren turned to him as he stepped up into the house. "Your conversation couldn't have gone that badly? What happened?"

Miles opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head helplessly. "I don't know? We talked about things - the shooting, my ex, I - I thought he understood. But then he got... I mean, you saw." He rubbed his eyes, trying not to jump to conclusions.

Darren opened the closet to the unit's small washer-dryer combo. They'd put in their clothes and extra underwear from the day before, and he took them out, handing Miles his before undoing his borrowed button-down. "We should talk over dinner."

Miles pulled off Leander's shirt, hoping he hadn't stretched it out terribly. "I don't know, Dare. I think he needs time. We should head home before it's too late to go. We should give him time."

Settling his shirt into place, Darren stepped close to take hold of his hip, tugging him closer. "Have you asked him what he wants?"