Kester

“Um. I can explain?” Kester’s would-be bold statement trailed off into a question. He rose slowly from his crouch, keeping his own dark eyes fixed warily on his partner’s blue ones as if hypnotised. He’d come to learn the expressions on Mikhail’s outwardly impassive face extremely well over the years they’d been together, and that slight narrowing of the eyes and flare of the nose meant only one thing – trouble. Big trouble.

Mikhail lifted a single eyebrow. “I look forward to your explanation. I am sure it will be most … enlightening,” he stated calmly. As usual his English was perfect but a faint trace of his original accent remained despite years of living in England.

Kester hunched into himself, finally managing to tear his eyes away from Mikhail’s. He shivered slightly, a mixture of both the cool night air finally making an impact now the rush of adrenaline had died down, and reaction to Mikhail’s sudden appearance. He looked around rather desperately as if in search of inspiration or help, but there was none to be found. Adam was already lecturing Brendon and Ryan, steering them away from the scene with a firm hand on the back of each neck. Kester’s two friends’ heads were lowered and they were walking meekly to wherever their Alpha was taking them.

Gregory was standing with arms crossed in a pose strikingly similar to Mikhail’s. Silver-tongued Xev was gesturing as he spoke rapidly, but his pretence of wide-eyed innocence didn’t seem to be doing him much good, judging by Gregory’s darkening expression.

Mikhail coughed lightly and Kester’s attention flew back to his own partner. “You are in enough trouble yourself without concerning yourself with your friends,” said Mikhail. “Come, you are cold. We will go inside and then I will hear this fascinating explanation for you climbing roofs in the middle of the night.”

As he spoke he swung his heavy cloak off his shoulders, wrapping Kester up in it and keeping an arm securely around his shoulders. Kester felt an immediate warmth and comfort at the familiar scent and feel of his partner but his heart still sunk to the bottom of his boots at Mikhail’s words. Somehow he didn’t think his explanation was going to go down well at all.

***

It had all started innocently enough. Their partners were out at the monthly meeting and so as usual Kester, Brendon, Ryan and Xev had met up. The evening had kicked off at Kester and Mikhail’s house; it was the largest place, after all, a Victorian detached house with pretensions of being a gothic mansion.

Despite the house’s random and unsymmetrical design and rather over-the-top masonry, it was conveniently near town and yet still had a large garden with a high hedge surrounding it to ensure privacy. Kester had come to love spending quite evenings relaxing with Mikhail in that garden, idly watching the shadows of the trees move in the moonlight. They would light the patio with only a couple of lanterns, and Kester was eternally fascinated by the golden glow the soft light gave their normally pale naked limbs as they made slow, sweet love.

Xev and Gregory didn’t have a television set; Gregory always muttered about the evils of modern technology and the draining of intelligence and attention spans whenever the subject was mentioned, usually by a pouting Xev. Xev had little enough attention span as it was, Kester thought sometimes, so no doubt Gregory was right in his rule. But it meant that the first thing Xev wanted to do on any “boys’ night in” was watch TV. He didn’t particularly care what he watched, as long as it was bright and fast moving; in fact, the adverts were some of his favourites. Brendon also had an excitable personality, and the two of them would curl up happily on the sofa together, channel hopping with a vengeance and commenting loudly and often rudely about the things they saw. In comparison, Kester and Ryan were more restrained, preferring to chat quietly or play a challenging game of chess.

An hour or two into the evening Kester, having just lost the first game to Ryan, padded into the kitchen to collect the snacks he kept on hand solely for these get-togethers. Junk food was another thing Xev adored but rarely had, and Brendon and Ryan also ate very healthily at home. Normally when Kester returned with the crisps, coke and chocolate he was practically mugged in the rush to inhale them, but this evening he was taken aback to be completely ignored, the other three all staring at the television with rapt and silent attention. Even Ryan had moved onto the sofa and was leaning forward, frowning at the screen in concentration.

It appeared to be some sort of documentary, and for a moment Kester was puzzled as to why they were so interested in oddly focussed shots of the city skyline. Suddenly the view changed and a man appeared, leaping, spinning and springing from walls, lampposts and roofs.

“It’s called free running!” Brendon said to him excitedly, finally looking up for a moment. His chocolate brown eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.

Kester could see exactly where this was going. “No,” he said firmly.

“What?” Brendon sounded innocently shocked, a tone Kester knew from experience he was very good at. “I haven’t even suggested anything. You’re always so suspicious, Kester.” He widened his eyes in his best mournful puppy-dog look, peeking out from under his shaggy dark hair.

“I know you,” Kester replied, determined to stand his ground – he could see the mischief twinkling beneath the fake sadness.

Xev laughed. “Come on. You can’t tell me you watched that and didn’t feel a thrill through your veins. It would be easy to do…”

“No!” repeated Kester, determinedly not listening to the little voice in his head that was agreeing with the others. Mikhail would definitely not approve.

“Well, I want to have a go even if you don’t,” said Brendon. “Coming, Ryan?” He gave his best beaming smile to his more sober lover, who was gazing at him solemnly, his thin and fine-boned face expressionless in the way that meant his thoughts were whirring madly behind the quiet mask.

Ryan narrowed his grey eyes, obviously torn to those who knew him well and could read his small tells. “Adam?” he asked hesitantly.

“We can just say we were engaging in ‘healthy physical exercise’ if the subject comes up. Gymnastics. He’d approve of us doing that more than sitting here watching TV.”

Ryan was quiet a moment longer, wavering, before finally flashing one of his lightning grins and shaking his fine, straight light brown hair as though casting away any doubts. He got up to join his lover. “Okay, then. We can start off with the easy stuff, at least. Come on, Kester, there’s nothing to stop us doing simple backflips and leapfrog, is there?”

Kester felt himself waver in turn. After all, they needn’t do any of the dangerous stuff. And it did look fun. What harm could it do?

“Alright then,” he sighed as he finally gave into temptation. “But let’s go into the back garden so we don’t break anything.”

“Yay!” Brendon leapt up, any petulance immediately forgotten, “Let’s go outside!”

They all trooped outside, Kester switching on the electric security light as they went to flood the garden rather than relying on the dim light of the romantic oil lanterns. Once in the slightly chill night air they paused for a moment, unsure where to start, before the exuberant Brendon gave a whoop and sprinted forward a few steps, springing into a string of forward flips. He reached the end of the garden and rather than turn around, simply returned in a series of backward flips, before collapsing breathless and laughing at their feet.

“Nice one, Bren,” called Ryan. “Here, watch this.” He knelt down and then carefully rose into a handstand, his t-shirt instantly falling down to expose his flat, tanned stomach. He ignored Brendon’s wolf-whistle, finding his balance before walking forward several steps on his hands.

“My turn!” said Xev, stripping off his own shirt completely unselfconsciously. He proceeded to dance a few steps, body stretching and posing alluringly before he finished abruptly, sitting down in splits that made the other three wince involuntarily, to Xev’s complete amusement.

“Now you, Kester. Come on, you can’t hold back now.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he protested. “I can’t dance or do gymnastics like you.” He thought back to what the people on TV had done, while the other three waited impatiently.

“Okay, here goes,” he said, making a dead run at the shed. With instinctive timing he leapt just before crashing into the water butt, slapping his hands on top of the heavy plastic container and using the momentum to leap up onto the shed roof in one easy go. He rolled forward slightly before coming to a halt, laughing out loud with the excitement and adrenaline.

“Hey, brilliant!” yelled Brendon. “I want a go at that.” Kester scrambled back on the roof as far as he could as with no more warning Brendon followed Kester. He misjudged the first time but managed to make it the second, landing breathless, and the pair grinned at each other and as one beckoned Ryan up.

They encouraged Xev to have a go as well but he merely smiled and refused to be persuaded. “I know my limits, and I cannot get on that roof the way you three have. I can dance better than any of you, but I do not have your… athleticism, shall I call it? But I wonder… if you can climb a shed in mere seconds, how far can you get up there?” He beckoned towards the house as he spoke, and Brendon, Kester and Ryan stared at the house and then each other in calculation.

***

The answer turned out to be pretty high up. It took a bit of plotting and discussing, but finally Kester was ready to have a go. He scrambled up the coalhouse wall, with a leg up from Brendon, and from there made his way across and up to the porch at the front of the house. He crossed up the diagonal slopes of the different roof levels, before facing the last challenge – straight up to the highest chimney. When he finally made it he stood breathless, clutching the brick and looking down at the small figures that were cheering and waving at him.

That was when he discovered that going up may have been easy, but getting down was another matter. In the end he had to resort to inching down backwards on his hands and knees, just thankful that he had good grip and balance and wasn’t afraid of heights. He reached the porch and then the coalhouse with no problems, jumping off the eight foot roof with ease and landing in a crouch. Kester looked up, waiting for the applause - straight into the stern gaze of his partner.

****

“But it wasn’t really my fault,” Kester argued, hovering in the doorway and nervously watching Mikhail pull the large armchair slightly away from the wall. “It was the others’ idea.” They had already hashed all this through and he was covering old ground, but the words still tumbled rapidly from his mouth in a final desperate try to evade what he knew was coming.

“Come.” Mikhail spoke only that one word, but the tone of finality in it made Kester’s shoulders droop, that last futile hope of changing his partner’s mind vanishing. He trudged despairingly over to Mikhail, dark head hanging low and hands twisting together nervously. How many times had he been punished before? It seemed like hundreds, but there was never any getting used to this feeling of dread.

Mikhail’s lips twisted with sympathetic fondness. As a child he had always preferred to get his punishments over with as quickly as possible, but Kester always drew things out, seemingly in the hope that one day he would have a miraculous reprieve. So far in the years they had been together that had never happened, but it didn’t seem to stop him from trying. Mikhail indulged him in this up to a certain point, but there came a time to draw the line before his younger lover wound himself up into a state of complete panic.

Kester raised his head, opening his mouth to utter a final plea, but closing it with a heavy sigh instead at the single raised eyebrow and the determination gleaming in the steady blue eyes that met his.

“Come, mine own,” Mikhail said more softly this time now he knew Kester had accepted the inevitable. “Let us not put this off any further, eh?”

He sat down in the chair and held out his hand encouragingly. “It will soon be over.”

Kester gave a snort of disbelieving laughter at that, but took the final step and unresistingly let Mikhail lower his trousers and underwear before pulling him gently into place over his lap. He wiggled a few moments to get as comfortable as possible in this oh so uncomfortable position, burying his head in his crossed arms almost in supplication.

Mikhail carefully moved Kester’s shirt further out of the way and raised his knee slightly, to tilt the white bottom to a better angle. Kester twitched nervously and Mikhail stroked his hair in comfort, once, twice, then started on the punishment with no further delay or lecturing. The first smack sounded loud in the otherwise quite room. Kester jumped slightly but Mikhail gave him no further time to react, smacking firmly and evenly, spreading the blows across the whole surface of his bottom. A faint flush began to appear on the skin and soon afterwards Kester was whimpering in time with the blows, holding himself tense. His fingers were clenched together tightly and his eyes were screwed shut with pain, but he didn’t try to escape.

Finally Mikhail sensed that his lover was reaching the end of his endurance and sped up his pace, aiming the last five blows heavily in the same spot as a lasting reminder.

At last, to the relief of both of them, it was over, and Mikhail, hands gentle now, helped his lover into a more comfortable position, curled up semi kneeling, Kester’s face pressed into the gap between Mikhail’s shoulder and chin and leaking almost silent tears into his shirt. Mikhail rested his head on Kester’s silky smooth hair and concentrated on calming himself down. Kester could not kill himself that easily, but returning home and seeing his lover standing at the top of the roof was not a sight he wanted to see often.

Mikhail shook his head. Ever since he, as head Vampire, had joined the group of supernatural leaders of the city, Kester had been firm friends with the two werewolves belonging to Adam the pack Alpha, and the minor demon that was bound to Gregory the sorcerer. The four of them, though generally well behaved, seemed to find mischief to get into that was so unusual no one would even think of banning. Mikhail would be tempted to move to break up the group if he hadn’t known how upset Kester would be.

“You almost scared the life back into me, young one,” he said, in a tone of wry amusement. “How long is it now? Over 170 years together and you can still surprise me.”

Mikhail faintly heard a watery ‘Sorry’ whispered into his shoulder in reply.

“Now, now, that is over with. You have said your apologies and accepted your punishment and we will say no more of it. But consider yourself grounded until the next meeting. In more ways than one!” he chuckled as his life partner snorted loudly in disgust at his terrible pun. No, unlife was never boring with Kester around, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.