Sometimes, one simple act could change your life. For Ian Groden, one simple act was a recurring event. The sound of the garage door closing barely registered while he sat in his car and reread the small greeting card in his hand. He started when the alarm on his watch went off. A few seconds later, the auto lock on the door leading from the garage to the house engaged with a click that echoed through the garage. “Fuck,” Ian spat and crumpled the card in his fist. Ian shoved out of the car, grabbed his briefcase, and slammed the door shut. “Just fucking perfect!” He dropped his briefcase next to the two steps leading to the door, sat down, and banged his head against the door. Ian tended to be a workaholic. His husband, and Dom, Taren Murdoch had rules about a healthy work/home balance. One hard and fast rule was that Ian had to be home by 5 p.m. sharp, any later, and the door locked. If Ian wasn’t inside the house by the time the lock engaged there would be repercussions. If there were an emergency, he could override the code and get in, of course. Ian preferred not to use the override. In truth, repercussions, discipline--punishment—were things Ian normally looked forward to, and if the mood struck him, he would linger in his car until the lock engaged. Tonight, this was not the case. His home was his sanctuary, and he wanted to get inside. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt before fishing his phone from his suit jacket and called Taren. “Murdoch.” “The door is locked,” Ian blurted out. Taren drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Hold on.” Ian heard Taren moving and then he said in a muffled voice, “I have to take this; it’s Ian.” Someone asked if Ian was all right, and Taren’s response was, “Yes, I think so.” A minute later Taren asked, “Are you okay? Was there an emergency at work?” “N-no. Emergency, I mean.” “Ian,” Taren spoke slowly, drawing Ian’s name out. “Boy. Are you okay?” Being called ‘boy’ immediately dropped Ian into his sub role. “Yes. No. Maybe. Sir.” “Well, that clears everything up.” Taren paused for a minute. “Go inside, get settled, I’ll be home in about an hour, hopefully a little less. Pick out what you’d like to use later this evening if you’re in the mood.” As if Ian was never in the mood for Taren’s skillful attention.
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