Making the Call

by Dice


Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, poing, pop, pop, pop, swoosh...... pop, pop, pop, poing, pop, poing, pop, pop, pop

OK that was it! I got up from my chair and leaned down over him where he was sprawled on his back in the white couch, still in his crisp white shirt and his grey slacks, his tie lay discarded on the coffee table along with his jacket.

"Are you trying to drive me insane?" I asked in a level tone as I slipped his Iphone from his fingers and he stifled the petulant protest I saw light in his eyes as I switched it off.

"Kit, I'm bored, give it back!" he said dully.

"You've been playing DoodleJump non-stop since you came home from work! It's been an hour! Do you have any idea how annoying that sound is?" I asked, making it clear that I was really very annoyed.

"I'll turn the sound off, you could've said! Sorry!" he said and I hesitated, about to give it back and then changed my mind.

"Look, I'm not a mind reader, but I know how you usually feel when you do this..."

"Do what?" he groaned.

"Play a mindless game obsessively while you're obviously thinking of something else completely... did something happen at work today?"

He turned his head into the grey cushions and groaned again. He did not want to talk about it. Ok, fair enough.

"You want me to spank you?" I asked gently and he looked up, startled.

"Not in the mood..." he said guardedly, "...or are you punishing me for getting on your nerves?" the last was said with a hint of a smile.

"Don't give me any ideas, sweetheart," I said and handed his Iphone back, he took it and held it in his hand without switching it on again.

"You know... I can't really tell you... it was... it's not something I should..." I shook my head.

"If you can't you can't, but why don't you go give Eliot a call?" I said and he frowned, then shook his head in refusal.

I smiled and bent to kiss him on the forehead, but he caught my lips instead and I raised an eyebrow, his hand caught my hair and pulled the white hair clip out. Not in the mood? Well, he was in some kind of mood. Or maybe he was only trying to distract me.

His hand trailed up under my skirt and he hooked a finger into my panties tugging them down enough that his hand could freely explore the curve of my buttocks and he pulled me closer to him. Oh yeah, this was distracting all right. I grinned and shook my head at him as I opened his fly slipping my hand inside and stroking him slowly, teasing. He arched his back and his hands gripped my arms and he kissed me again, my breasts pressing against his chest.

Then he rolled us off the couch without letting me go and I slipped my arms around his neck, steering him towards the bedroom. He kept kissing me and he took control as we came through the door, sitting me down on the bed and pulling off my skirt and panties as I unbuttoned his shirt.

As he tipped me backwards I hooked a leg around his waist and for a second we wrestled before I was on top, a triumphant smile on my face, he laughed and pushed his slacks off his hips, making me bounce where I sat on his thighs. I lost some of my balance, enough for him to roll me over again as he kicked his trousers off.

He spread my thighs and pushed into me and I lifted my hips to meet him and we moved together in what felt like slow motion.

"Are you trying to drive me insane?" I asked him again, breathlessly as his hands found all those little places where he knew he'd have me squirming and he laughed softly and nodded.

He came a short while before me and then kissed my breasts and stomach until his face was between my legs. A strange mix of vulnerability and power filled me as he went down on me and I stroke his hair while he nudged me closer and closer to climax with his tongue. My orgasm was one of those I don't get too often that leaves me feeling completely spent and tingly. He watched me tremble and writhe, his fingers prolonging the feeling his tongue had initiated and then he kissed me, his lips tasting of salt.

He curled up around me and we lay close together, the feeling of warmth and intimacy like a blanket of comfort.

He was sitting on the bed, his sock lying on his lap, forgotten. He looked tired and he was staring out into the room, eyes unseeing, it was clear he was somewhere else. He'd been sitting like that for the last five minutes.

"You're calling Eliot, right?" I said, pulling the brush through my hair, I saw him wince in the mirror and a guilty look flashing in his eyes. "Simon!"

"Kit, don't, ok? I don't want to," he said and pulled his socks on.

"Well, you do need to talk about what's bothering you, it's not going to just magically go away..."

"Whatever, I'm dealing with it..." he said shrugging me off. He knew I couldn't stand it when he did that. He hated talking, his family had always had a close lid on their emotions and to him real men didn't talk about their feelings - or about anything...working for the damned FBI hadn't helped him to open up exactly.

It wasn't quite as exciting as it sounded; he was one of those people behind the scenes who's never mentioned on the TV-shows. His work had to do with computers, still most of the time he didn't talk about work and I was ok with that, because I knew he couldn't.

That's where Eliot came in. I'd known Eliot for a long time, he had married my best friend and he was the one who introduced me to Simon. Eliot also worked for the bureau, with what I didn't know exactly, but at one point he'd been Simon's boss, and although that wasn't the case anymore, they had become fast friends instead.

Friends with benefits, or in Simon's case drawbacks. Eliot scared the crap out of him.

But he could talk to Eliot. Eliot understood, had been there, knew how hard it was for Simon not to be able to talk to me and let me in.

"I'm not telling you to ask him to sp..."

"Kit!" he cut me off sharply, a light blush coloring his face. "Don't go there!"

I glared at him. Simon had begged me to spank him on our first date and it was one of the few things he agreed should be talked about, unless, of course, it involved Eliot. While I was not the only woman he allowed to spank him - although others had become a rare occurrence since we were married - Eliot was the only man.

Turning away from him I opened the drawer and took out the other brush, the antique, art deco one in sterling silver he'd bought me for my birthday that had an enamel pattern of my favorite flower, calla lilies, on the back. It was my favorite brush in the whole house and also the one that got to him the most, perhaps because I so rarely used it.

"Don't bother pulling those on before we're done talking, honey," I said and rose, he lowered the baggy jeans he'd been about to put on, looking annoyed until his eyes fell on the brush. I could see the moment he knew I was serious. "Are you going to call Eliot?"

"Fuck... Kit, don't do this!" he said, a warning in his tone, I moved around the bed and he actually took a step back. "Kit... Kristine!"

"Are you going to call?" I asked angrily.

"No!" he said and I reached for his hand, he snatched it away and then he took the brush from me. "I said; don't do this!" he snapped, I looked at him, astonished, then I smacked his bare thigh with my palm hard enough to leave a livid red mark and he sucked in his breath, pulling away from me.

"Give me the brush!" I said icily and he looked down at his feet, but he didn't hand the brush back, he was keeping it out of my reach behind his back. "Simon... Now!" his eyes darted up to mine and then he slowly shook his head. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room not looking back, I was too angry to spank him anyway.

When I walked back in he was sitting on the bed, looking at the brush in his hands. He looked up at me and his eyes grew large as he saw me determinedly press the call button on my cell and lifting it to my ear. He looked slightly panicked, as if he might grab the phone out of my hand, but he didn't move. The voice at the other end was warm and friendly.

"Hi, Kitten!"

"Hey, Eliot, how are you?" I said, my tone not matching my eyes that were still fixed unyieldingly on my husband, who looked as if he was seconds from throwing up.

"I'm great, oh, Emma wanted me to invite you over for the weekend, she's still in Paris, but she'll be back tomorrow night," Eliot said. "How's Simon?"

"In trouble," I said candidly and to my satisfaction Simon cringed. "He says it's work, but he doesn't want to talk to you..."

"So, you figured he should, huh?" Eliot laughed softly. "Put him on."

I held out the phone for Simon who stared at it as if it was a rattle snake and then he looked at me as if I was a traitor. I let my eyes soften and gave him a little nod, he swallowed, closing his eyes and took the phone.

"It's Simon..." he said, his voice husky, "...no, sir... yes, sir..." I backed out of the room closing the door behind me to give him his privacy.

He flopped down in the couch next to me, his arms crossing over his chest. He wouldn't look at me. I closed the book I'd been reading, resting my elbow on the cover and propped my chin up on my palm.

"So...?" I said softly and he bristled. "Sweetheart...?"

"He's coming over," he admitted sullenly.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked and he nodded, his face a blank mask. "Simon, honey, are you ok?" he shook his head and the mask began to crack. "I'm sorry..." I stroke his face with the back of one finger and he gave me a reproachful look.

"I told you I didn't want to..." he said and then looked away again.

"I know," I said and ran my hand over his short cropped hair. "But Simon, it's..."

"No! Don't tell me it's what I need... I know I do... that's not the point!" he pulled away and shook off my hand, the rejection felt like a blow to the stomach.

"Simon?" I sat back looking at him as he rubbed his face.

"I can't handle this tonight," he whispered. "I can't... get a grip."

I realized my error and it became suddenly hard to breathe. I'd been busy pushing him towards what he needed and hadn't stopped to think of why he was being so uncharacteristically stubborn. He wasn't ready to face Eliot on his own terms.

Simon gave up control to me without a second thought, permitting himself to let go in ways he never did otherwise. It had taken a long time before he would let me see him at his most vulnerable, but now I had come to take it for granted. With Eliot he still held back, always composed, always careful not to show him how much he got to him.

"Oh, honey," I put my arm around him and he fell into my arms, holding me tightly. "You don't have to do this, you know..." I said slowly, feeling completely hypocritical after pestering him about it so determinedly. He looked away again and nodded.

I rubbed his shoulders, he was so tense his muscles were bunched up in knots. I massaged the nape of his neck and now he leaned into my touch, settling his head on my shoulder again, his arm encircling my waist.

"I'm being such a pussy," he whispered.

"Neither me nor Eliot expects you to take a spanking when you feel like hell about it..." I said and felt my tone cut a little too hard, he stiffened, but didn't move away. "You could've told me how you felt!"

"Like you're easy to talk to when you get like that..." he muttered, I made a sound half between a snort and question. "You know what I mean, you go all top and no wife and it's useless to argue."

I wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that I did listen to his arguments all the time and that he was being unreasonable thinking I could read his mind when he wouldn't tell me what he was feeling, but I didn't say it. Even if I probably had a point it didn't matter because I'd made him feel like I didn't listen.

"I never want you to feel it's useless to talk to me," I mumbled into his hair.

"Kit... would you..." he hesitated. "When he comes, could you give him the belt?" I moved back a little, trying to look at his face, but he turned it into my chest, his warm breath on my breast, I felt my nipples stiffening against my blouse.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?" I asked quietly.

"I can't... Kristine, please?" he finally let me look at him again and he looked so miserable I didn't know what to say.

He'd obviously decided to go through with it, which surprised me in some ways and in others not; if he felt like he had to prove to himself he wasn't a coward, there was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise. He had lived his whole life proving to his father and brothers that he was just as tough as they were, just as strong and just as fearless and it had become part of who he was.

"And why can't you?" I asked, but he just shook his head. "But you want him to use it?" he nodded. "And you can't get it?" I rolled my eyes, feeling unreasonably irritated at him suddenly.

I got up and walked into the bedroom pulling out the bottom drawer in the closet where we kept our collection of toys that we either didn't use often or that would give the game up if they were lying around the house. I found what I was looking for and took it out, my face set.

I didn't like the belt. It was an old, worn leather one with a big silver buckle and I couldn't handle it well, so we'd agreed to let it stay in the closet and it had, until Eliot found it when he and Emma were helping us move. He had brought it out of the box and folded it up, then he'd caught Simon's eye across the room and snapped it against his leg, Simon had looked at him as if the floor had fallen out from underneath him. It had been their thing ever since.

I placed it beside him on the couch and he looked at me. I kissed him and stroke his face without saying anything else. The sound of the doorbell made him jump and I couldn't help laughing a little, he sneered back, but a kiss turned it into a sheepish grin.

Eliot was leaning his hand on the wall beside the door and looking down at his black shoes scuffing at the stones as I opened. He looked up at me and grinned broadly.

"Hi, Kitten," he gave me a peck on the cheek as I let him through. "So, where's the troublemaker?"

"In here," I hooked an arm around his so I could lean in close to talk to him as I steered him towards the living room, "Look, he... he's a bit worked up, be nice."

"Aren't I always?" he flashed me another grin and I was reminded why Emma had fallen as hard as she did. "Don't worry, Kitten, leave him to me."

He lost the grin as we came into the living room. He watched Simon looking at the coffee table with glossy eyes and he frowned a little. I let him go and stepped back, preparing to leave them to it, but he turned briefly and mouthed "stay" before he walked up to stand in front of the couch.

"You crying?" Eliot asked curtly and Simon winced so hard he knocked his knee on the coffee table. He looked up at Eliot and I saw him struggle with himself somewhere between shame and anger, but underneath it was complete despair.

Eliot crouched down before Simon could find his voice and placed a hand on his knee, they looked at each other for a long awkward moment.

"You want out?" Eliot said barely loud enough for me to hear. Simon shook his head. "You want to wait?" again Simon answered in silent negation. "OK, then buck up, boy! Give me the belt!" Eliot got up and held out a demanding hand that Simon stared at and he looked positively sick. "Now, boy!"

There wasn't that big of an age difference between them, but Eliot gave the word a note that put Simon in his place like he was no more than a teenager and Simon responded immediately, he grabbed the belt and put it in Eliot's outstretched hand, his eyes searching Eliot's face for approval.

"Good." Terse, far from his usual genial nature, but a weight seemed to fall from Simon's shoulders.

Eliot folded the belt in two, taking the buckle in his palm and wrapping the leather around his hand. I watched Simon with increasing discomfort as he watched the procedure, his face turning several shades paler. Part of me wanted to step in and call it off, but the other part told me that I was being allowed to witness something very personal and I would damage something meaningful in our relationships if I interfered.

"Now stand up! Drop your pants!" Eliot continued, tone still lined with the same impatience.

Simon obeyed, hands trembling and fumbling with his fly like I'd seen them do so many times. He lowered the jeans to his knees, leaving his white boxers up.

"I said drop your pants!" Eliot was uncompromising, but Simon's head shot up, his ears turning red. "I want to see what I'm doing and I'm sure Kristine does too!" he said, acknowledging my presence in the room, Simon looked over at me just long enough to see confirmation on my face and then he looked down. He slowly did what he was told. "Bend over!"

He lowered himself down over the armrest, giving me a clear view of his muscled butt cheeks and strong thighs. It felt odd watching someone else making the little adjustments to his position. Eliot firmly pushed his head down and nudged his legs further apart and then he stood back, tugging the belt tight around his hand before raising his arm.

I watched Eliot land every stroke where he aimed seemingly without effort. The welts were a deep, intense red and Simon jerked and hissed in pain as Eliot worked his way from below his tailbone and to the top of his thighs. Then he moved to Simon's other side to begin again and I saw Simon break down before another stroke fell.

He didn't cry so much as just heave. Desperate gulps of air filling his lungs. I could see that Eliot noticed, and he hesitated, his hand falling to his side. It was new, I realized, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Finally he looked back at me.

"Kristine," he said and motioned for me to go to him. I did.

"Simon?" I knelt beside the couch, stroking his hair out of his face. "Let it go baby, I'm right here..." he drew a deep heartfelt sob and his whole body began to shake.

Eliot loosened the belt around his hand and tossed it on the couch. I looked at him and he gave me a half-hearted smile. I helped Simon up and he shied away from us both and tugged his pants up. He wouldn't look at Eliot and he shook my hands off when I tried to comfort him, wiping his face on his sleeve and pushing me away again when I tried to hug him, just waving for me to stay away. He fled into our bedroom without looking at us.

I turned to Eliot, who shrugged, I put my hand over my mouth and he took a step towards me, putting his arms around me and held me.

"He'll be fine, Kitten, you'll be fine... give him some space," he mumbled.

"This is all my fault, he said he didn't want to..." I said, becoming angry with myself. "I was selfish, I didn't want him to mope, so I pushed..."

"Hey, Kitten, he's a grown man, you don't make the decisions for him, he does, he asked me to come over, he didn't have to do that," Eliot patted my shoulder and I nodded hesitantly. "You know, I could kill for some coffee if you're up for it?"

I handed him his cup and looked over at the closed bedroom door. There had been no sound since Simon had gone in and I wanted desperately to go check on him. Instead I sat out here having coffee like nothing had happened.

"So, Emma will be back tomorrow? I wish I had a job that took me to Paris," I said.

"No, you don't, you don't like flying," he pointed out and I had to give it to him, he was right, I hated flying.

"True..." I confessed with a laugh, then froze and stared at the bedroom door that was slowly opening.

Simon looked at us and then he stepped out. His face was flushed and his eyes were red brimmed, but he had combed his hair back in place and put on a clean shirt. He gave us a small sideway grin and headed for the liquor cabinet, where he took out his favorite bottle of whiskey and started unscrewing the cap.

Eliot put his cup down and stood. He walked over to Simon and took the bottle out of his hand and then held out his palm for the cap. Simon looked at him and smirked a little.

"Give me a break, I'm not gonna get drunk," he said, his voice steady and his expression cocky.

"I know," Eliot agreed, but didn't relent. "Have some coffee instead, you'll need a clear head at work tomorrow... right?"

"Fine," Simon snapped trying to take the bottle from him. "I'll put it back!"

"What's that?" Eliot held it out of reach and raised an eyebrow. Simon's attitude melted away in an instant and he drew back a little, hugging himself with one arm. He gave Eliot the cap, mumbling something I couldn't make out, but Eliot seemed satisfied.

"God, how does Emma put up with you twenty four seven?" Simon muttered and slipped past Eliot as he put the bottle back in the cabinet. He took the third cup I'd brought in the case he was rejoining us and filled it with coffee from the still warm pot.

"She doesn't," Eliot admitted, reseating himself in the armchair, "she goes off to Paris or Japan every other month."

"Clever girl," Simon said sarcastically and sat down beside me on the couch, not letting on the pain he must be feeling. He sat close enough that I could sneak my arm around him and he relaxed into my embrace.

We sat quietly for a little while, none of us sure of how to bring up the pink elephant in the corner. Finally Simon leaned forward and took a deep gulp of coffee.

"You quit!" he said, slightly accusing and he looked grimly at Eliot. "You went easy on me!"

"Yeah, well..." Eliot shrugged, pulling a face. "Do you blame me? It was a first for me too, I didn't expect you to go to pieces!"

Simon looked acutely uncomfortable and glared into his cup, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his hands around it. I stroke his back and he glanced at me over his shoulder, shrugging me off. I wanted so badly to do the right thing to reassure him, but I was making him feel even more embarrassed by being comforting.

I stood up, and reached for his cup. He frowned as he gave it to me but I didn't meet his eyes and took the other two, heading through the hallway and into the kitchen. I rinsed the cups out and let the water run over my shaking hands. Damn, I was more upset than I thought.

"Kit?" Simon's voice from the door made me look up. I smiled weakly at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"I'm fine, honey," I lied and his smile was relieved.

"I love you," he said tentatively, like an apology.

"Me too. I'll be right back, ok?" I said and he nodded.

I couldn't bring myself to go back to them though, so I sat down at the dining table and fiddled with the tablecloth. After a moment I heard Eliot's voice from the living room. I edged closer and stood by the door, feeling guilty for eavesdropping, but I couldn't help it.

"...to do? You don't let yourself go there with me," Eliot was speaking softly, gentler than before.

"No kidding?" Simon sounded weary. "I didn't want to go there, wasn't ready."

"I know. You knew it was gonna happen," Eliot said calmly, "I gave you an out..."

"Yep... what can I say? I'm a moron."

"Kristine never dated morons, so I doubt she married one," Eliot disagreed and I heard them laughing together and felt relief flooding me.

When I came into the living room Simon looked up and held out a hand, I let him hug me tight and bury his face in my hair before I pulled away and kissed him.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take a cue..." Eliot said and got up, Simon started to protest and I was about to do the same, when he held up a hand. "Can't stay, but you're coming out this weekend right?"

"Yeah, of course," I said looking at Simon who nodded.

He got up and gave Eliot a would be quick hug, but Eliot held him still, rubbing his back gently before grabbing the back of his neck and looking him in the eye, his face stern.

"You will call at work tomorrow, you hear me?" he said and Simon nodded meekly. "You hear me?" Eliot asked again, tone growing harder.

"Yes, sir!" Simon replied, a little shaken, Eliot grinned at him and pulled him into another hug before he let him go.

"Good night, Kitten," he kissed my cheek before he left and we watched him drive off.

Simon's arm was around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. The evening outside was chilly, but clear, and having Simon beside me made me feel warm.

"We should get one..." Simon said suddenly and I looked at him in confusion. "A kitten," he grinned at me as I smacked him on the shoulder.

"Behave!" I laughed and he kissed me again.

"Yes, ma'am!"

~ Dice

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