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should talk about it,” said Paul, handing peas around the table.
    Brian tried to sink lower in his chair. If he didn't actually like Paul— care about him even— he wouldn't mind much. But...
    “I'm sorry,” he said.
    “What are you sorry for, Brian,” asked Jim. “I really enjoyed our time together.”
    Well, that had a sound of finality in it, thought Brian sadly. “I should have told you.”
    “Should you have? When did you know?”
    “When we came to the house.”
    Jim looked at Paul. “Brian and I met in Hollywood.”
    “Ah,” said Paul wisely. “The famous roving van.”
    “Well, I knew when I met Scott,” said Brian.
    “Well, that was sorta my doing, baby. I didn't give you much chance to say no, did I?”
    “I could have.”
    “Why should you?” asked Jim. “None of us have any hold on you.”
    Brian sneaked a little look at Paul. “Noooo... ”
    “Seems like the question now is, what do we do next?” said Scott.
    Those damned tears filled Brian's eyes again. He might never be with Paul again and for some reason that really bothered him.
    “Brian,” said Jim gently, “what do you want to do?”
    Brian looked up into his Momma Bear's eyes and suddenly all he wanted to do was crawl into those big warm arms and hide his face against Momma's chest. He'd smell of Old Spice, Brian remembered, and a little marijuana.
    He looked sideways again at Paul, whose hand lay open on the table next to his plate. Big calloused fingers, that little vine tattoo curling around his wrist, disappearing under that thick studded leather bracelet. Brian's eyes slid up Daddy's arm and made it to his face. Those blue eyes weren't showing anything. They were like closed doors.
    “I don't know,” he whispered. “What do you want?”
    Of course the question was directed at the whole group, but he was really asking Paul.
    His big old bear read him for a minute and then looked away.
    “Well, I'll tell you what I think,” growled Scott, all soft and sweet, that little twang singing in his voice. “I think Paul and Brian need to talk in private.”
    Brian glanced quickly at Jim and saw nothing there but caring. He swallowed and nodded at him.
    “Yeah,” he said. “D-D-Daddy?”
    The chair scraped loudly as Paul stood. “Let's go to my bedroom, Brian.”
    Brian followed him, head hanging, wishing it were like it had been before.
    “I didn't know,” said Brian, the minute the door was closed. “Until now. And-and... Daddy, I'm sorry.”
    Paul lowered that big bald head and frowned. “What didn't you know?”
    “I missed you,” said Brian. “I didn't know this would... I dunno, make it wrong between us.”
    Paul looked puzzled. “Has it made it wrong, Brian?”
    “I don't know. Hasn't it?” Brian bit his lip and asked hopefully, “Can I fix it? I mean... If... Paul, if you wanted me to wait for you, I would have. I... didn't know I... ”
    But Daddy was shaking his head, his whole body moving with it. “That's not right, hon. I couldn't ask that of you.”
    “But... but... you're my— ” Brian got close enough to grab that big hand and hold on so tight Paul couldn't get away. “Daddy, I love you.”
    Paul looked down at him, eyes bright. “Oh.”
    And he lifted Brian right up off the floor and planted big, wet, slobbery kisses all over him.
    When he set him down again, Paul's face was calm and warm, those eyes intimate.
    “Take a shower, Brian.”
    Oh thank God . “Yes, sir,” said Brian. And he ran off to do so, so grateful that things were going to be all right.
    Brian took his time getting ready. He'd gotten a little clumsy with the buckles and he had to redo them a few times before they didn't dig into his rib cage. When he got to the cock ring, he had a real moment of panic. What would Daddy think of his still-shaved balls?
    When he emerged from the bathroom, of course, Daddy noticed right away. His eyes did that lightning, intense zip up and down Brian's body.
    “Come here, son.”
    Brian