Yuri flicked a dismissive glance at Roger then looked back up at Angelo. “We need to talk. Please.”
“Is everything all right, Yuri?” Angelo asked. He waited until Roger had closed the door to the security’s flat behind him before adding, “Are you all right?”
“No. Yes. God, can we just go in and sit down somewhere? And I could really use a cup of tea.”
“Tea,” Angelo said, “I can do.” A feeling of lightness suffused Angelo. He unlocked the flat’s door, held it for Yuri, then closed and locked it. “I’ve got Assam. Will that do?”
Yuri nodded and sat down at Angelo’s table. The expression on his face was hard to read. It was hungry and wary and somehow miserable. Angelo itched to be able to fix what was wrong, but he wasn’t sure it was in his power. All he could do was have patience and try.
Having patience with Yuri was a relatively new thing, and Angelo wasn’t sure what had brought it on, initially. For most of his life, he’d been impatient with Yuri, wanting desperately to shake some sense into him, or find a way to still his sharp tongue. Being tolerant of Yuri’s pointiest angles was new, and he supposed that if forced to choose the catalyst, it was the night Angelo went to Yuri’s room and saw the utter mess that had been his back.
He put on the kettle to boil and got mugs out. Once the water was hot enough, he poured it over tea bags and added the amount of milk and sugar Yuri liked to his. He took both mugs over to the table, handed Yuri his, then sat across from him.
“I’m guessing you’re here for an apology.” Angelo took a cautious sip of the scalding hot tea.
Yuri nodded his head stiffly.
Angelo took a few deep breaths, struggling for the right words to say. He was sorry, but not for the obvious reasons. He would need to make Yuri understand somehow.
Before Angelo could formulate a coherent sentence, Yuri said, “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m so, so sorry. I was wrong to get angry at you. It wasn’t fair.” Nervously, he licked his lips.
“You’re sorry?” Angelo echoed.
“Yes, I’m sorry. What else would it be? I did everything all wrong and I’d like to erase everything and start over from scratch.”
“Everything?”
Yuri gulped down his hot tea. Angelo wasn’t sure how he wasn’t burning his mouth. He put down his empty mug. “Everything.”
Angelo set his mug aside, no longer interested in drinking it. “It’s too late for that.”
“I know.” Yuri frowned down into his empty mug. “But if I could, I would. None of this has been right or fair for you.”
“Are you feverish, princess?” Angelo laid a hand on Yuri’s cool forehead. “No, not feverish. Hm. Have you heard voices talking to you from inside your head?”
“Oh, shut up.” Angelo was glad Yuri was back in his prickly mode. “I didn’t come here for mockery.”
“Then why did you come? You still haven’t said.” Angelo smiled encouragingly at Yuri.
“I’m here,” Yuri said, practically snarling at Angelo, “to apologize.”
“I don’t know. You don’t sound particularly sorry to me.”
Yuri growled—actually growled—and Angelo felt inordinately pleased for some reason. Maybe because Yuri seemed less mopey and furious and more peeved, which was an improvement, and Angelo felt like he was on more familiar ground. “Why did I even come here? I could be sitting on a nice lawn somewhere, reading a book, or watching the rowers because they are so super-hot, but no, I’m here. For reasons.”
Sobering, Angelo said, “When I first saw you, I thought something was horribly wrong. And then I thought you were here to get an apology from me.”
Yuri looked back down at his empty mug. “No. I didn’t come here for that.” He looked back up at Angelo. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you. None of what happened was your fault. If anything, it was mine. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Yuri went back to looking sad and miserable, and that just would not do.
Angelo said the first thing that popped into his head, which wasn’t the world’s most intelligent decision, but it felt right coming out of his mouth. “You came here because you behaved badly.”
“You could say that, I suppose.” Yuri’s tone was sliding into sulky territory.
“Then I think there’s only one thing I can do.”
The look Yuri gave him was scrubbed free of all emotion. That, in and of itself, was telling. He seemed to be scrutinizing Angelo’s face while trying to give nothing away with his. “Yes?” he asked cautiously.
“I think, princess, that you came here for some overdue discipline.”
17
Yuri Gets Some Discipline
Something clenched tight within Yuri let go and it was such a relief. “Yes,” he said, his voice breathy. “Punish me.”
“Discipline,” Angelo corrected.
“Yes, sir,” Yuri said automatically and he didn’t miss a flash of something light up Angelo’s golden-green eyes. “Where would you like me?”
There was another flash of that something, then it was gone. “My lap,” he said. “Come here.”
Yuri stood up, feeling almost as if he was in a dream, and drifted over to where Angelo sat, his chair pushed away from the table. “How would you like me?” he asked, his voice gone from breathy to husky.
This was wrong, so wrong, so very, completely wrong, but Yuri didn’t care. He needed this. Even more than sex, he often thought. It kind of was sex, but it also wasn’t, and it satisfied something primal and deep within him like nothing else in his life could.
“Peel down those jeans. Fuck, they’re tight. Are you going to need scissors?”’
“You cut my jeans and I’ll cut you,” Yuri flashed back, pushing his beloved and rather expensive jeans down to his ankles. The underpants he wore underneath weren’t the special briefs he always wore for Angelo during their discipline sessions. Getting spanked was about the last thing on Yuri’s agenda when he
