One Man's Junk

by Nelson

June 2004

Author's Notes: Yep, you read it right. I started this story last summer :) These guys haven't had much exposure: just a cameo in a Ben/Zach and one story of their own. I had toyed with finishing this lately and finally did it. I pulled a weird stunt here. (No comments about me being weird, ok? LOL) The story begins in 3rd person but I really wanted to get at Adam's thoughts on the difficulty of submitting so I switched to 1st person half-way through.

Thanks to AJ for the inspiration to finish this one and for giving it the once over for me. A big thanks as always to Alex for giving it the twice over and finding/fixing my mistakes :) I only tweaked *one* little thing when you were done with it, I swear!



One Man's Junk

Adam squinted against the morning sun glaring through the bedroom curtain. "We left the curtain open last night. I hope no one saw you coming to bed naked." He grinned up at Laz who kissed him and smiled back.

"I don't care if they did," Laz responded happily. "They shouldn't be peeping in our window." His hungry lips covered Adam's, stifling a laugh from him. He settled back behind Adam, spooning up against him, with his arm folded under Adam's pillow to cup his head.

"I love Saturday mornings," Adam said.

"Me, too," Laz said lazily from behind him. "I just wish I didn't have to work."

"I know."

"What are you going to do today while I slave away behind my chair?" Laz asked.

Adam craned his head around, cutting his eyes over his shoulder to see his partner. "You love it. You'd hate it if you couldn't do hair."

Laz laughed softly. "Yeah, I do love it. I just love it more when I do it during the week." He rolled up on his elbow to see the clock on Adam's nightstand and flopped back down heavily. "And, I'm going to have to get up in about 15 minutes and get ready."

"Damn," Adam said.

"Damn is right," Laz said. "So, what are you doing today? You didn't say."

"There's a car auction I'm going to," he said. "Nothing, other than that."

Laz groaned behind him. "Oh, God. Please don't come home with another wreck. You have two out back now."

"Don't worry," Adam smiled. "I'm just looking for parts. But if I see a good deal..."

"Not until you sell the two from our used car lot behind the house. That's the only way we can afford it. You need to watch what you spend today, by the way."

"Those cars will sell, easily. Actually, I've already had some interest," Adam said. "The Civic is done, and I just need the parts to finish the Explorer. Mainly an engine."

"Well, until they *are* finished and sold," Laz said kissing the back of Adam's head, "no more join them. Got it?"

Adam loved his life with Laz, even if they didn't have money rolling in hand-over-fist. They were comfortable. "I make a good chunk of change every time I sell one of those clunkers," he pointed out.

"Yes, you do, but it's tied up inventory until one sells, not to mention you don't need another car to work on right now," Laz said. His logic was ignored and Adam huffed his objection. The non-verbal complaint registered on Laz's radar. He warned, "Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" Adam muttered.

"You know what." A pointed pause hung in the air like barroom smoke, and Laz tried clearing the air. "Don't you get sick of it, babe? I mean I don't want to come home and cut hair…unless it's yours." He followed the statement with a run through Adam's dark hair with his fingers. "You work on cars all day."

"I like it. And, I don't take a long time fixing up those old wrecks. It's…stress relief or something like that. Because I enjoy it. Call it therapy."

Laz said with a laugh, "Since when do you need therapy?"

Adam twisted around to face Laz and grinned. "I don't need therapy because I have my hobby out back." Laz looked at him unconvinced. "Well, it's true," Adam declared. He traced his fingertip down the center of Laz's stomach where the hair came together marking a trail to Laz's crotch, seductively hidden under the sheet barely draped over his pelvis.

"It seems to be working for you then."

Adam said, "It is. I'll get the Explorer finished. It just takes time. And parts. Which take money. But, since I practically have them both sold, the money shouldn't be a problem if I see another car that I could fix up." He leaned over and kissed Laz to shut him up when Laz opened his mouth to disagree while looking at him suspiciously.

"No, Adam. I'm not kidding about this," Laz said seriously after he regained control of his lips. "The answer is no." Adam glared at Laz, looking evenly at his partner. Laz said, "Quit it, now, Adam. I'm not arguing about it this morning." To prove he meant it, Laz rolled over on his back and put his arm across his eyes to block the beaming sun and the daggers piercing him from his partner's eyes.

"What's the point in my going if I'm not allowed to buy anything?" Adam argued.

Laz said patiently, "I never said you couldn't go. I never said not to buy anything. I said don't buy another fixer-upper today and to watch what you spend."

"How much can I spend?"

"Oh… let me see. It's too early to do math in my head…" Laz said. "Considering what you typically clear…about $2000."

"Two thousand! I hate having to pinch pennies!" Adam blurted, his temper beginning to slip. He leaned up on his elbow and gave Laz an imploring look.

"Will that cover an engine?"

"Yes, but that's not the point!"

Laz lifted his arm to look at his lover, and said, "Adam..."

Adam sighed and rolled away from Laz, and he instantly felt Laz's hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Come here." Adam hesitated for effect, gave up without much further encouragement, and rolled over against Laz, resting his head on Laz's shoulder. Laz asked, "Why did you want to go to the auction today?"

"I told you. Parts," Adam said.

"Then would you please tell me why we're arguing over whether or not you can bring another car home? You know we have a tight budget," Laz said gently.

"But we have the savings account for my cars."

"Yes, and I keep close watch on it to be sure you aren't spending more than you make on them, and that we don't carry a balance on the credit card. That was the agreement after the first one. We wouldn't operate in the hole." Adam said nothing. "Adam?"

"What?"

"Isn't that what we decided?"

"Yes. It's just…" Adam began.

"Just what?"

Adam said quietly, "It's hard sometimes."

Laz said, "I know it's hard to walk away from a good deal. But we don't have the extra money, Adam. Besides, the neighbors will start to complain." Laz landed a kiss to the dark hair beneath his chin.

"It's none of their business," Adam mumbled. "But that isn't what I meant, anyway."

"What did you mean?"

Adam searched for the right words, but came up short. He said, "Never mind."

"What did you mean, Adam?" Adam lay silently, listening to the beat of Laz's heart. "I'm just going to bug you until you tell me, and I'm running out of time. You're going to make me late for work, then you'll have to listen to me bitch about that, and then…"

Adam groaned. "All right, jeez. It's hard to… to do what you say sometimes."

Laz stared at the ceiling, caressing Adam's back. "But it's a lot harder," he said, his hand trailing down to Adam's butt and giving it a couple of pats, "*not* to do what I say."

Adam laughed awkwardly and said, "Well, it's especially hard then, but I mean just like today, telling me no cars…it's hard."

"It works for us, though, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it works. It just works better when I agree with you," Adam said.

"I know. It's hard for me sometimes, too. Especially when you don't do what I say. I have to make the right decisions and to make them with good reason."

Adam met Laz's steady gaze and said, "Your reasons aren't always right, like in this case."

"Is that a fact?"

Adam said, "Yeah, it's a fact. I'll make time to finish the Explorer out back, get those two sold, then the money won't be a problem, and …"

"Adam."

"What?"

"Quit it."

Adam sighed and lay back down. "I wish we made more money," he fancied aloud.

"We have all we need, Adam. Another car is not something we need," Laz pointed out.

"Do you ever wish you went to a real college, rather than beauty school?" Adam wondered, regretting occasionally his own decision not to go.

Laz wore a bemused expression and he said, "Never. I love what I do. I thought you did, too."

"Yeah, I love it, but it doesn't pay enough. If I made enough money, I could still do this on the side and not have to worry about my partner freaking," he said.

Laz looked at Adam and said, "Freaking, huh?"

"Yes, freaking. I can buy a new one for a fraction of what the two out back will bring in," Adam pressed. "And we don't have to pay the credit card off, you know. Just like the first time."

"The first time was an exception to get you started. We aren't carrying a balance. We've talked about it before, so you know how I feel."

Adam grumbled, "Everyone carries a balance."

"Not everyone because we don't. No more cars until you sell those two; money in hand, cars gone."

"But…!"

"You heard me," Laz said, pulling Adam back down onto his chest. "Stop arguing with me. I have two more minutes to enjoy you before I have to get in the shower."

Adam lay back down, if unwillingly, and grumbled, "I don't see why I can't get another one just because…"

"Because I said so," Laz said.

"But, Laz…!"

"Shhhhh. Two minutes…" Laz said, and Adam heaved a sigh of complaint. "Shhh!"

****************

The car lot was electric with activity before the auction, and Adam stuck the card with his number on it in the back pocket of his tight jeans. He had an hour to walk around and look at the cars and parts for sale before the auction began. There were some non-repairables there, a host of miscellaneous parts and a section holding his passion: the ones he could fix and sell.

Passing those by, he quickly found the engine he was looking for: a six-cylinder to fit a 2000 Ford Explorer. He did some hasty calculations in his head as to what he felt the engine was worth from his research, and wrote down the lot number on the back of his card. It wasn't a rebuilt one, but given it was from a wrecked car, he should be able to get it for slightly less than one of those.

"Adam!" Adam turned toward the voice calling his name and saw his uncle heading his way.

"Hi, Uncle Winston."

"I thought I might see you here today," Winston said. "Haven't seen you since Christmas."

Adam's abashed expression complemented his words. "I know. I'm a horrible nephew."

Winston laughed from his belly and said, "Hell, I wouldn't say that. You're my favorite nephew."

"I'm your only nephew," Adam joked.

"Still, the best one of the lot." He checked over the engine Adam was evaluating and said, "Whatcha got? V-6 engine?"

"Yes, sir," Adam said. "I should be able to finish the Explorer I'm working on if I can land this baby."

"What all did you have to do to it so far?"

Adam frowned remembering the work he had done. "It t-boned another car. Heavy damage to the front end, driver's side quarter panel damaged, too."

His uncle looked past the broken glass of the windows in a vehicle nearby and said of the vehicle, "Look at this burn." He ran a hand over the driver's side door in front of him. "No body damage to it, just interior."

"Yeah," Adam said, looking inside. "The outside looks like new."

"How long you been working on the Explorer?" Winston asked, switching back to the original car in question.

"A few months."

"A few months!" Winston said jokingly. "What's taking so long? I taught you better than that. No time?"

Adam nodded. "That and scrounging for parts. Laz helps me make sure we don't spend more than we make on the cars. He's the budget man. What are you here for?" he asked.

"Ah, you know. I might be retired, but I ain't dead. I just like to look. See what they've got."

"You aren't working on anything?" Adam asked, moving down the row of cars.

"No, I'm just doing some paint jobs here and there. The usual since I retired." Adam glanced over at the aging face of his father's oldest brother, who was more father to him than uncle.

Adam couldn't remember a single major event in his life since the passing of his dad where Winston wasn't there, supporting and encouraging him. While he was growing up, Winston came over on a regular basis, splitting wood for his mother and doing minor repairs as needed around the house. "You don't seem old enough to be retired, Uncle Winston."

"God, I feel old enough," he said with a hearty laugh. "Knees give me fits these days."

"As long as you don't look old. That's the important thing."

"I thought it was the opposite," Winston said, feigning confusion.

"Well, you know," Adam said.

"Ah, now there's a beauty," Winston said. He stood back, admiring a Buick, gleaming as best it could with a torn up rear end.

Adam gave his uncle a reproving look and said, "It's a Buick, Uncle Winston. Not a thing of beauty."

"Watch your mouth," Winston said in a whisper behind his hand. "You'll offend her."

Adam laughed at his uncle and his habit of referring to anything inanimate by a female pronoun. "I don't think she minds," Adam chuckled.

"I'd love to fix her up. She wouldn't be much work."

"Get it," Adam said. "Your car is what? About 6 years old?"

"Eight. And it's not that easy, son. I'm on a retired man's income, which ain't much. I don't want it for myself though. I want it to sell."

"Oh," Adam nodded. "I thought you meant to keep." Winston continued to admire the Buick longingly, and Adam had a quick flashback to his childhood, keeping his uncle company as he worked and taught Adam little things as he went along.

"We could work on this together, if the price is right," Winston said.

"I can't take on any more cars right now, though," Adam said. "But I do miss working with you."

"It would be like old times," Winston said. He shaded his eyes and peered inside the vehicle to see the mileage on the dash. "She only has 23, 000 miles on her. She's practically a baby. I don't have the extra money lying around. Too bad."

"Do you have a credit card?" Adam asked. "That's how we started. After the first one, you have some cash for the second, and so on."

"Now that's a thought," Winston said.

They turned from the Buick when they heard the auctioneer calling the crowd together.

***************

Laz stood in the doorway of the detached garage, admiring the firm backside of his lover who was bent over while he tinkered under the hood of the Explorer. "Looking good," Laz said with a seductive smile.

Adam picked up the rag lying on the edge of the car and began to wipe the grease from his hands. "Hi," he said, walking over to kiss Laz hello.

Laz said, "How was the auction?"

Adam shrugged. "An auction," he said. "Oh, I got my engine."

"Great. Is that what you're working on?"

"No, I'll need some help with that. I put the deposit on it, and I'll have to pick it up tomorrow."

"I'm glad you got it."

"Me, too. I saw Uncle Winston," Adam said.

"Did you? How is he?"

"Good," Adam said. Suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands, Adam started wiping them off again, smearing the grease around more than actually ridding himself of it. "He wanted this Buick they had."

"Yeah?" Laz said, leaning against the worktable against the wall, pulling Adam to stand between his spread legs. "Did he get it?"

"Yeah, he did. I put the deposit on it for him."

Laz cupped Adam's face in his hands and smiled at him. "That was nice of you," he said with a peck to Adam's lips.

Adam took a deep breath and said, "We're going to work on it together."

"Good. You need to spend more time with him. Maybe I'll come with you and supervise," he smiled, sliding his hands down Adam's back, stopping just at Adam's waist.

"God," Adam groaned. "The only thing you can supervise while we work on a car is coordinating when it's time for a beer."

"That and managing your tight ass while you work. 'To the left, Adam. No, to the right!'" Adam laughed then looked uncertainly at the red rag in his hands. Laz caressed a hand over Adam's back and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Adam. What's wrong?" Laz repeated, his brow deepening in concern. Adam backed away from Laz and stared at the toe of his work boot as his foot scuffed against a spot on the floor. "Adam?" Laz asked, not fooled by the signals he was reading. "Did you buy that car?"

"Not exactly," Adam muttered.

"What exactly?" Laz said casually. He crossed his arms and his ankles, in a posture of patience as he waited for the rest of the story.

Adam swallowed the cotton in his throat, sending it to the bottom of his churning stomach. "We're going to take turns paying the minimum on his credit card until it's finished and sold. I took the deposit as the first payment."

"Are you telling me you bought a car with your uncle?"

"I guess."

"You guess? You aren't sure?"

Adam tried not to think about the clenching in his stomach or the fact that Laz was giving him a look he was all too familiar with. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't frowning; he was just looking. Unnerved despite his best effort not to be, Adam admitted. "I guess I did."

"You did," Laz confirmed for himself. "You bought a car today."

Adam explained hastily "But I didn't spend more than $2000 and we won't be carrying a balance on our card."

"YOU have a balance whether it's in our names or not," Laz pointed out. "Regardless, I told you not to buy another car today."

"But your reasons were that we had two here already and the money! The car won't be here, and Uncle Winston doesn't care about carrying a balance, so I thought it was okay."

"Did you?" Laz asked.

"Yeah, I did," Adam said unconvincingly.

"Then you need to stand in the corner and think for a while," Laz said, straightening up from leaning on the counter. "Let's go inside."

Adam's stomach sank, landing square at his feet. "Why?"

Laz held out a hand toward Adam and said, "Come on." He grasped Adam's hand in his, despite the grease he spied still covering it. "Wash your hands, then meet me in the office."

***********

Adam took his time washing every centimeter of his hands, meticulously cleaning grease from under his nails, and scrubbing his knuckles. The grease was forever settled around his nails and in any rough spots on his hands, while Laz's hands were eternally clean from day after day of shampooing clients' hair. Expecting Laz to appear in the doorway any minute did nothing to hurry Adam along.

To take much longer would leave his fingerprints dimpled from the water, so Adam gave it up and dried his hands. He looked at himself in the mirror as he did it, quickly dropping his gaze from the accusing image staring back at him. "Shut up," he told himself, tossing the towel back on the rack as he went to meet Laz in their tiny office.

Laz glanced up indifferently from behind the desk when Adam appeared in the doorway. He nodded toward the corner of the room where the carpet was mussed from the last time Adam's feet were there, shuffling in the past. "Go on," Laz instructed, and after a moment's hesitation, Adam went.

The time seemed to take forever as usual, and two minutes felt like ten. "Laz?" came a small voice from the corner, when he heard Laz get up.

"Adam?" Laz responded casually.

"Laz!" Adam demanded more forcefully.

Laz turned from the bookshelf with one hand still on the binding of a novel, and gazed toward the corner of the office. "Adam, be quiet."

"But, Laz, I HATE standing in the dumbass corner!"

"The corner doesn't have an ass, and I didn't put you there for your enjoyment," Laz calmly replied. "Now, be quiet."

An exasperated huff was the response to Laz's words, but he ignored it and went back to perusing the bookshelf. Adam heard the covers of the books rub against each other when Laz slipped a selection off the shelf, and Adam chanced a glance over his shoulder. Laz turned around in time to see it and said sternly, "Keep yourself turned to the corner. I want you facing it, not looking at me." Another huff escaped from Adam's diaphragm. "And, quit huffing at me."

Adam managed to keep quiet but folded his arms harshly across his chest. He tried to stand still but found himself fidgeting against all attempts not to. Another minute, then another…

The office clock was conveniently - or inconveniently - hung within Adam's peripheral vision, and he noted the position of the hands, which seemed to either be slowing down or not moving at all. Broken. They must be. The seconds ticked loudly in the quiet of the office. It was pure torture.

"This is boring! It's been ten minutes already," Adam exclaimed. "It's ridiculous to make me stand here."

"I know how long it has been, Adam Sawyer," Laz said, flipping a page in his book without his eyes leaving it. "I know how to tell time, and I don't need you to prove that you can do the same. Be quiet and think about why you're standing there."

With an unintentional stomp of his foot, Adam breathed in quickly in shock at himself then cast a glance over his shoulder to see if Laz noticed. He was totally engrossed in the book he was reading, paying Adam no attention. Adam asked, "Well, how long do I have to stand here?"

Laz cracked the binding on his book and said while turning another page, "Longer than I originally planned since you won't keep quiet."

"Jacob! I HATE standing here!"

Laz centered his gaze on Adam over the edge of the book in his hands. "Then, I suggest you be quiet so I'll stop adding minutes. It's entirely up to you."

Adam's mouth snapped open as he turned his head to look at Laz. "That is NOT fair! Just do what you're going to do already!" Laz laid his book on the desk - face down and open as though he would need a reminder later that he was still on page one - leaned back in the office chair, and crossed his arms.

Adam asked apprehensively, "What?"

"I fully intend to do what I 'plan to do', but you aren't dictating to me how or when I do it. I'll do it when your corner time is over," he said then looked to the clock, "which will now be in five more minutes than I planned."

"What?!" Adam asked hotly. "Why?"

"One more word out of you," Laz said, leaning forward with his finger pointing in Adam's direction, "and you'll get your mouth washed out. Don't think that means you won't finish your time in the corner, either."

Their eyes locked in silent battle when Adam's determination finally dissolved, his face crumpling. His chin started to quiver and he said, "I don't want to stand here, Laz. I didn't *do* anything."

"You know better than that. You know exactly what you did."

The tears became free-flowing, and Laz walked over to the corner, pulling Adam to him. Laz asked, "What's this all about?"

"I don't want you to spank me and I know you're going to."

"Listen to me," Laz said, quietly. "You're working yourself up and making this worse than it needs to be."

"I-I can't help it," he hiccupped. "Can't you do something else? I know I screwed up. I know it, okay?"

"Why would I do something else? You disobeyed me, knowing what the consequences would be," Laz said gently. "Changing them certainly won't keep you from doing this again, will it?"

"But, you don't have to!" Adam argued.

"Like you didn't have to buy another car when I told you not to?"

Adam knew it was true. He took in a hitching breath and said meekly, "I'm sorry, though." He gripped Laz's middle to reinforce his sincerity.

"So am I."

"But, I don't want…I just…" Adam stammered.

"I know you don't," Laz said, giving him another squeeze before disengaging the hug. With a sympathetic smile, Laz said, "I don't put you in the corner to torment you. I want you to think about why you're in trouble."

"But, I can't think about that! I can only think about… about…" Adam pushed away from Laz, and wiped the moisture off his cheeks, turning wet eyes up to him. "Please don't?"

Laz said, "Think about the answer to this question: why did you buy a car after I told you not to?" He nodded toward the clock. "You owe me five more, and then I want the answer to that question when the time is up."

"Laaaazz…"

"Five more in silence, please," he said, turning Adam back to the corner. Laz had just made it over to the desk when he saw Adam stooping over to pet Ollie, who was brushing against his ankles. He sighed to himself, wondering why he even bothered with the corner when it was such a hassle, but he was determined to make a point, cat and whining aside.

"Adam, stand up straight and leave Oliver alone." He snapped his fingers to get Ollie's attention and then wiggled them to further entice him away from Adam. "Come here, Ollie Cat," Laz said to the feline.

"He wants me, though," Adam said over his shoulder.

"You're busy right now," Laz said as Oliver tiptoed over to him with a grace God only gave to cats. Laz scooped him up after Oliver made his way over to him on his own timetable, and settled him in his lap.

With shoulders slumped, a resigned Adam managed to wait the final five minutes without further conversation once the Oliver situation was resolved. In the end, the minutes went by entirely too fast. He heard Laz open the desk drawer briefly then slip it closed again. Adam felt his insides turn to Jello when he heard the sound, knowing full well what was in that drawer.

The sound of the wheels on the desk chair rolling against the mat and away from the desk got Adam's attention before Laz's voice called to him. "Okay, Adam, time's up. Come here."

*********

From Adam's perspective…

God. My stomach had crawled all the way up to my throat and it was all I could do to keep it down after he called me. No. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go. My mind kept telling me it was time, and I had to go, but my feet didn't quite get the message. I tried to turn around, but I couldn't look at him. I wasn't ready.

"Adam," he said to me again. I squeezed my eyes closed really tight, wishing the whole ordeal away. I heard him again in seconds, his voice having an edge to it this time. He was getting aggravated with me. "Adam, come on. Now. I'm not telling you again."

No, no, no… "I don't want to," I said, keeping my back to Laz and my face buried in the corner.

I almost barfed when I heard him walking toward me. He had to be totally pissed by this time, and I just knew he was going to start smacking my behind as soon as he was within swinging distance. He grabbed my hand without saying anything, and lugged me back to the chair with my hand automatically covering my ass - just in case. I saw that fucking desk chair getting closer and I started to dig in, expecting the worst to start, but he sat down and pulled me into his lap instead. I sounded like a deflating balloon when he did that instead of pulling me over his lap.

He asked, "What's the answer to my question?"

The question. What was the question again? I stared into his eyes filled with question marks as long as I could stand it while I struggled to remember the question. Oh, yeah.

Why.

I looked down at my hands, and a loose thread on the hem of my flannel shirt caught my eye. Wrapping it around my index finger seemed the natural thing to do.

"Answer me, Adam."

I finally shrugged a silent "I don't know" at him. I couldn't simply say I just wanted to do it. Why make things worse? Part of me *needed* to do it. Part of me just wanted to see what he would say. Now, I seriously wanted to beat the shit out of that particular part of me.

Laz tapped my thigh and asked, "Not enough time in the corner?"

Fuck. I think I got whiplash, I jerked my head up so fast, and I answered just as quickly, "No, it was long enough."

"Why did you do it then? Surely, you have a reason."

"Uncle Winston wanted it," I said. It was the truth. He *had* wanted it. But then… so had I… I didn't see the point in mentioning that, though.

"Is that a reason to disobey me?" Laz inquired.

I didn't like where this was going. Not at all. I wasn't surprised, but I didn't like it. "This isn't fair," I said. "I didn't do what you said not to do." It sounded lame, even to me.

"You didn't buy a car?"

I groaned. I heard it when it came out, but it was too late. The telltale sign that I knew he was right and I was wrong. His right eyebrow crept up for more detail than just the groan gave him, so I obliged with a better explanation. "Well, I didn't cause us to have a balance," I pointed out, "and Uncle Winston is going to keep the car at his house so it won't be around back. Those were the reasons you said I couldn't get another one right now. Right?"

"Adam."

"What?!" God! It was a good reason!

"Is it okay to disobey me?" No matter how I chose to rationalize things, there was no denying that it was very much not okay to disobey him. I swallowed hard and shook my head, turning my attention back to my hands in my lap. Laz said, "No, it isn't. So if you have nothing more to add…?" Laz paused politely.

I wished there was something I could add, but I had nothing. More than anything, I wished I hadn't done it. I couldn't take it back. And you know that part of me that wanted to know what Laz would say? Well, right then I really didn't give a flying fuck what he would say; it was all about what he would *do*. I opened my mouth apprehensively, realizing that as soon as I answered, the worst would begin. Nothing came out at first. I sat looking at him with my mouth hanging open. Both his eyebrows went up that time, and I knew I had to answer him.

"No," I said in a whisper.

"Okay," Laz said, slamming the door on any hope I might have had that the evening would turn out differently than I expected.

He pushed me from his lap and dragged me around to his side and I felt the tears gathering in my eyes as Laz began unfastening the fly on my jeans. I brushed one tear away then studied the ceiling so I wouldn't have to look at him, while he pulled down my jeans. I tried to brace myself emotionally for the horrible feeling of having my underwear pulled down, but as much as I tried to prepare, I wasn't quite ready for it. I never was.

The tail of my shirt brushed across my rear, as soon as my underwear was down, and that helped me to feel somewhat covered. I still felt naked as a jaybird. More naked than if I didn't have on a stitch in front of him for any other reason. Weird, but it's true. We could shower buck naked, have sex, whatever; nothing made me feel the same way.

I suddenly found myself pulling back away from him when he gripped my wrist, pulling me against the side of his legs. I tried to take a step back when I felt my knees bump against his thighs because I knew, another firm tug, and I'd be facing the floor.

"Wait," I said, my throat hitching. I really didn't want to do this. I couldn't. I was starting to panic. "Don't…" I pleaded.

"Adam," Laz said with a voice marked with determination. Laz was serious. He meant business and he meant to do what I didn't want him to. He said, "You knew better. Let's go."

The inevitable was upon me and I wanted to be staring at the corner of the office again. I pulled away, unable to do anything other than to protect myself. I said, "Jacob, please…" I heard the begging in my voice, and I hated it. I wanted to avoid what was about to happen, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn't work. I knew.

"Now, Adam."

Yeah. I knew. He was a rock. He wasn't bending, but I was about to. Knowing there was no way out of it, I suddenly wanted it over. Just over with as soon as possible. With one final, pleading look that didn't do a damn thing to change his mind, I gathered every ounce of courage I had and gave in, stretching myself out across his lap. I felt helpless when Laz pushed the tail of my shirt out of the way.

There's this moment just before it starts when time seems to stop and I'm just waiting. The whole thing is sort of like a rollercoaster ride. It starts out with your belly full of lead just like when you're climbing that first hill. You hand yourself over willingly when you get on the ride, just like you hand yourself over to your partner. Then the clickity-clack stops and you're just hanging there, waiting. That's the moment I'm talking about. You realize while you're waiting that you aren't getting off the ride until it is over. After you've submitted, you have absolutely no say so when it will end, just like the rollercoaster. It will be over when your partner thinks it should be. You're just along for the ride, but you trust him to keep the car on track and stop when it's time.

Laz ended the wait, with the first smack of many. He kept flaming the fire in my ass, while I tried to shut out the shame, and control my breathing. It was all lost, long before he picked up the paddle.

By the time he was done, all I could hear were the sounds of my ears ringing from the blood rushing to my head, and my ragged breathing. My chest and throat hurt from bawling, not to mention the obvious pain below my waist. After my brain figured out it was over, I was vaguely aware of Laz rubbing my back.

Up. I wanted up. I struggled off his lap, and he was on his feet with me by the time I was upright. He wrapped me in his arms and I buried my face in his shoulder, ashamed that I was still crying but I couldn't help it, and I knew he didn't think less of me.

"I know, shhhh," he said to me. "It's okay."

He always tried to make me feel better, but I still felt horrible. I looked at him through wet eyes, hating to lose the contact, when he pulled me away so he could see me, and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. I dropped my head, not quite ready to meet his eyes. He pulled my pants back up to cover me, but left the jeans unfastened. I gripped him again and stood there, just letting him hold me. I felt subdued and terribly embarrassed, wanting to hide in his shoulder rather than look at him.

The room was finally quiet except for my hiccupping. Laz asked, "Next time I say no, are you going to listen to me?"

Hell, yeah. "I listened this time. I just made a horrible decision," I said. My nose was so stuffed up, I sounded like I had a three-day-old sinus infection.

I could hear him laughing through his chest then I felt him kiss the crown of my head. "That, you did, babe."

He let me stand there against him, holding me as long as I needed him to. Suddenly, I wanted to change clothes. My underwear was tight on my ass, too tight. I wanted something loose, and a minute to myself. I pushed away from him, and turned to walk out so I didn't have to face him. "I'm going to change."

"Come on to the living room when you're done," he said from behind me, following me out.

I went directly to our room, dropping my pants and underwear for the second time that evening. I swapped them for a loose pair of sweats, opting for no underwear this time.

I still wasn't exactly ready to face Laz again, so I breezed through the living room on my way out to the garage. "I'm going to the garage for a little while," I said, slipping quickly out the back door before he could try to make me stay inside.

I wanted to lose myself in my work, my hobby, try to forget the last hour or so. Odd, finding consolation in the very thing that led to my current condition. The hood was still lifted where I had left it when Laz came for me earlier. I leaned under the hood to finish what I had started, grimacing when the movement and the brush of my sweats against my butt reminded me of what had just happened. The parts under the hood blurred and faded as the tears began again. I was just being stubborn in buying that car. Stubborn for no good reason, and I had paid the price for it. I felt horrible.

"Shit," I cried angrily to myself, running the back of my hand under my nose. I wiped my eyes next and saw movement by the door as my sight cleared. Laz.

"Why don't you call it a day?" he asked.

I concentrated on keeping my shaky voice even, in spite of a throat thick with tears. "I'm okay. Just a little longer?"

"Come on," he persisted. "I miss you."

I tried to smile. "I haven't been gone but a minute."

"A minute too long." He held his hand out to me, just as firm in his posture as he had been earlier, even though he spoke gently. "It's okay, Adam. Come be with me."

He understood. He always seemed to know what to say. Tears started anew, and I was wiping at my face again by the time I reached him. He slipped his arm around my waist and kissed the side of my head. His arm felt strong and heavy around me.

"I'm not mad at you, Adam. You hear me?" he said quietly in my ear.

I nodded. It didn't change the fact that it was hard to face him. It always was afterward. I wasn't sure which was harder: to face him before or after. Both were hard but both were different.

Before, it was always hard to let him put me over his lap, to let him spank me. It hurt. It hurt like hell, and always more than I remembered from the last time. Handing myself over to him when I knew the pain and embarrassment I was going to feel was one of the toughest things I ever did. Afterward, it was hard to face him because he had been there to see me humbled, there to see me crying, there to know my disgrace at having done whatever it was that had landed me in the position in the first place. I worried that he'd get tired of me, tired of having to deal with me and the stuff I did that disappointed him.

"I love you, you know that?" he said softly as he opened the back door. Laz, the mind-reader. His timing was flawless.

"I know." And, I did know it. "I love you, too."

"I'm sorry about today," he said, flooring me as he sometimes does.

"Why are *you* sorry?" I asked him.

"I'm sorry I had to punish you. I didn't want to do that."

"I'm sorry I made you," I admitted. "I don't know why I did it."

He sat on the sofa and I curled up into a ball on my side with my head lying in his lap. I closed my eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair, combing it away from my forehead. He said, "Sometimes, I think you just need a reminder that the lines are still there. That they haven't moved, and that I'll make sure you step back inside them when you stick a toe over."

"Maybe," I said. I didn't want to think of it in those terms, but sometimes… "Sometimes, I just get aggravated and …" I searched for the right words, "stubborn? I guess that's it."

"You feel like you have to do it because I said you couldn't? Is that what it is?"

Hell, that was naked, but some part of it rang true. Submitting, whether to be punished or just to his will, was not easy. "Does that make you mad?" I asked rather than openly admitting it.

Laz laughed softly over my head. "No. That paddle will just get a workout. That's all. To make sure you know the lines haven't moved."

They were there. Painted in neon. Despite the burn in my backside, the security I felt at that moment was...I can't describe it, but it was there and it felt good. He loved me. He was there for me. As much as I hated him enforcing the rules when the time came, I knew he hated having to do it. But he loved me enough to do it anyway, just like I trusted him enough to let him.

"What are we going to do about the car?" I asked.

"You're going to help like you promised. Make payments like you promised. But when you sell it, you get your expenses out of it; no profit."

I rolled back enough to look at him without mashing my sore ass against the sofa. "Jacob! That's not fair! I've been punished already!"

I didn't expect to get to keep the car, but that didn't keep me from pushing back a little. I reached behind me and gently ran my fingers over my heated backside and he moved my hand away.

"Keep the car you bought after I told you not to buy it? If you think for one minute…" he began lecturing…

Yep. Lines drawn in neon. They were clear. I stepped safely inside them, listening to Laz explain his position.

Case closed.