Title: The Great Escape
Authors: Mel and Tarabeth
Characters: James & Quinn + a bit of Mason
Quinn gave a longing look out the window. It was a beautiful day, the perfect type of day to be out in the crown lands drawing. He didn’t understand why James had said no. So what if he had sprained his ankle trying to steal home on Saturday.
‘Have crutches, will travel,’ was his motto.
Problem was James’ motto involved ‘protection, rest, ice, compression, and elevation.’
James was rushing to dress when he looked out of the bedroom at his forlorn looking partner. He felt badly for Quinn, but all the sad eyes in the world did not change the need to care for a third-degree sprain. "Ice on the ankle please," he called out. "You have ten more minutes of icing left this morning!"
Quinn wouldn’t be able to return to work at the mine for four to six weeks. He was sure he would die of boredom and inactivity long before then. He already had a severe case of cottage fever, and it had only been four days since he had been injured.
"James," Quinn whined. "I have been icing my ankle for four days. I want to get up and go out," he pleaded.
James knew that Quinn was finding it hard being fussed over, he'd spent Saturday evening, and all day Sunday, Monday and Tuesday making sure Quinn was off his feet, taking naps, and icing his wrapped and elevated ankle; it was fortunate that he worked in the same place they lived allowing him to spend more time with his partner. "Please don't whine Quinn; it's only been four days and you'll be starting physio on Thursday, so that will get you out."
"Fine," Quinn said in a somewhat deflated tone. There wasn't any point in continuing to argue with James. Anyways today was a rare day, Quinn could smell freedom today. James was attending an afternoon seminar in Kelowna. It was an hour and a half drive to the city, three hours for the Regional Inn Keeper’s meeting, and another hour and a half drive home.
Quinn decided he needed to maintain his restlessness so not to give James any reason to suspect he may be planning his escape. He looked nervously at the clock. It was 9:45. James had planned to be on the road by 9:30, but he had spent the morning fussing over Quinn and was now running late.
Quinn’s brother was supposed to arrive at 10:00 to swap trucks with him. There was no way Quinn could drive his manual transmission classic Bronco, but he shouldn't have any problems taking Rowan’s automatic Chevy Avalanche onto the crown lands.
Quinn humphed as he placed his badly sprained ankle back on top of the pillows James had piled on the coffee table and let out a long sigh as he took the fresh ice pack from James and placed it on top of his foot. “Happy now?” he asked, as he glared his displeasure at James.
James raised his eyebrows at the flip remark. "No, I'm not at all happy with the attitude. We have talked how many times in the last four days about attitude?" he asked not expecting or receiving an answer.
His stern visage softened at the look on Quinn's face. "I'm really sorry I have to leave you like this; you know I would have just canceled had I not been the key note speaker. Remember what we discussed about keeping off your ankle and resting. I have to run; I'm already late. I love you so much, babe. "
He shared a brief but intense kiss with his husband before heading out the door.
"I love you, too," Quinn replied, not sure if James had heard his reply on the way out. He glanced back at the clock desperately hoping that Rowan would not be his normal self and show up early.
There were few, if any, reasons James would accept for Quinn swapping cars and going out, so Quinn figured he needed to be home and have the Bronco back by early afternoon. If James were able to figure he had been out, hopefully one of his brothers would cover for him and say he had gotten bored and gone to their house.
After waiting a couple of minutes to be sure James was gone, Quinn got up off the couch and peeked out the window, checking to see if James' car had left the drive. Seeing it was gone, he grabbed one of his crutches and hobbled to the bedroom to change into meadow-appropriate clothing.
Quinn adored the outside. He often thought he might be happy living outdoors. He was an active man and needed to be on the move; about the only time he could handle sitting still was when he was in the meadow drawing. By his view, going to the crown lands was a good way to be happy and off his feet, so really James should be pleased by his decision.
Arriving in the bedroom, Quinn debated between long pants and shorts. It was definitely shorts weather, but he decided coming home with bug bites on his legs would not go over well with James--long pants it would be.
Quinn was struggling to get his hiking boot on over his swollen and bandaged foot when he heard Rowan. "It isn't gonna work kid. Your chances are about as good as getting a camel through the eye of one of Ma's sewing needles."
Quinn snickered, "Stop; you're causing Sunday school flashbacks." He threw the boot at his brother before continuing. "The keys to the Bronco are on the kitchen table. I really appreciate you letting me have the Chevy."
"It's fine, but I still think it would be better if you let me take you where ever you are planning on going; that ankle still looks pretty swollen," Rowan said.
'Crap,' Quinn thought. 'I better not ask Rowan to cover for me, I'll need to give Patrick a call.’ "Ro, not you too. I'm so tired of being cooped up in this house. I just need to get out for a while. I'll have my crutches with me," Quinn said.
"Like a little cheese with that whine, baby brother?" Rowan laughed. "Please take care of yourself and don't be out too long. Call me on my cell if you need anything."
'Damn, the cell phone,' Quinn thought. 'There isn't any cell phone reception in the meadow.' "I'll call if I need anything," Quinn said, trying to pacify his oldest brother.
Rowan tossed his keys to Quinn. "Okay, take care of the truck. I just had it detailed."
"No problem," he replied as he made a mental note to make sure he had enough time to run the truck through the car wash before he came home. "You don't mind if I don't follow you out, do you?"
"No, kid. Have a good day. I'll bring the Bronco back about 4:00," Rowan told him as he left.
Quinn loaded his messenger bag with his art supplies, grabbed the other crutch and headed for the front door. He fell flat to his knees as one of his crutches tangled in the bag strap. "FUCK!" he shouted as he stood back up, tightened the strap so the bag clung tightly to his body and once again made his way towards the truck.
Quinn couldn't believe how exhausted he was by the short trip to the truck, but now he was determined. He hopped in the truck, started the ignition and was off.
Mason and some of the department's volunteer firefighters had spent the morning out in the crown land meadow clearing brush and running small controlled burns to help keep the meadow safe during the summer fire season. It had been a long morning, and he was exhausted. He and the men were rolling up the last of the fire hose in preparation for a return to the firehouse and a leisurely lunch when he noticed a man in the distance. The man was standing at an easel drawing. Mason smiled and realized it must be Quinn. Mason had gone to school with Quinn and his brothers. Mason and the Sweeneys played in same recreational baseball league. Mason was on the town's team, which was made up of himself, Craig (the town's other paid firefighter), a couple members of the police force, the county clerk, the garbage collector, and some of the staff at city hall.
The Sweeney brothers made up the bulk of the mine's team.
Mason's smile turned to a frown as he remembered, Saturday night, stabilizing Quinn's ankle in preparation for James to take him for x-rays. Mason called out to Quinn; as he moved closer he noticed that Quinn was leaning on one crutch, his face showing evidence of pain. "I can't imagine that the doctor's orders included standing on that ankle in the middle of the crown lands only days after you sprained it."
Quinn tried to put a nonchalant look on his face and replied, "I'm fine."
"You are not 'fine,’" Mason stated, pointing down at Quinn's swollen ankle. "You have no business being up on that ankle. I'm surprised that James doesn't have you at home resting with your feet up."
Quinn winced at the comment--at home resting was where he was supposed to be, and if James knew he was out here in the meadow he would be in a lot of trouble.
"Come on, let's go; I'm taking you home," Mason said as he began to lead Quinn towards the fire engine.
Quinn stopped walking and tried to wiggle away from the support Mason was providing him. "Mason, I'll go I promise, but look I've got Rowan's truck. I can drive myself home."
"I don't think so," Mason said. He put Quinn's arm back around his shoulder and once again began walking towards the fire engine. "You look to be in too much pain to drive, and I have a good mind to give your partner a piece of my mind for not properly caring for you," Mason informed him.
Quinn again stopped moving. "You don't need to do that Mason. It’s just a couple miles back to town, and besides, James isn't home anyway."
Mason's voice raised and took on more firm tone. "James isn't home. Does he know that you are out here running around on that ankle?"
"Umm...," Quinn began to reply.
"What time his he due home?" Mason asked.
"Around five," Quinn replied.
"You are coming back to the firehouse, where I can keep an eye on you until your partner can come and fetch you."
It was just past five p.m. when James pulled into the driveway of the Trillium Inn. He was tired and grateful to be home. Though his speech at the Innkeepers Conference had been a hit, he still felt badly about leaving Quinn cooped up at home for so long. He only hoped his lover had been resting his foot as per doctor's orders. However, all hope of that was erased when he saw the empty spot in the garage where the Bronco should have been parked.
James slammed his car door shut a little harder than necessary and stormed into the little cottage they shared. He hoped to at least find a note or some evidence of Quinn's whereabouts, but there was nothing, only the melted ice pack laying on the coffee table--testament to his lover having been gone for some time.
The small flashing light on the telephone caught his eye and James proceeded to check the messages. "You have two unheard messages, first message," the mechanical voice informed him. "Quinn man, where the hell are you?" It was Quinn's brother Rowan. "I brought the Bronco back at four like we agreed but you and my Chevy are missing in action. Call me as soon as you get back."
Well that explained a little about how Quinn was able to drive, but still no information about where he was. "Next message," the machine informed him. "James, hi it's Mason. Thought I'd better let you know that I have a certain partner of yours here at the firehouse. I found him out in the crown land meadow this afternoon, barely able to maneuver on crutches. I've got him in a recliner with his very swollen foot elevated and iced. He's as ornery as a caged mountain lion right now. Call me when you get home."
James could almost feel his blood beginning to boil; he couldn't believe that Quinn could be so reckless and defiant. He knew that he'd have to calm himself down before going to pick up his errant Brat. A quick call to the firehouse informed Mason that he'd be there to collect Quinn shortly. He practiced his deep breathing techniques while getting changed so that, by the time he was behind the wheel of his Camry, he was calm enough to deal with what was coming.
Quinn spent the afternoon at the firehouse arguing with Mason. “You can’t just kidnap me from the crown lands and hold me against my will. It’s against the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. I could have you arrested,” Quinn raged from one of the department’s big comfy recliners.
When Mason appeared before him with a glass of lemonade and some ibuprofen, Quinn not so politely told Mason what he thought Mason should do with the pills.
Mason was done with Quinn's attitude and informed him, "As a trained paramedic, I have no qualms about shoving these pills up someone's ass, but, my friend, if you refuse to take them orally, it won't be my butt I will be shoving them in."
Quinn gulped and held out his hand for the juice and medication.
"Thank you," Mason replied.
Between the ibuprofen kicking in, the pleasant numbing effect of the ice, and several hours off his feet, Quinn was actually starting to feel better, but he was loath to admit that to Mason.
Quinn's pleasant feelings came to an end when Mason informed him that James was on his way over to the fire house to fetch him, and he got a horrible sinking feeling that sitting with his foot up was not going to be this comfortable again for the foreseeable future.
James pulled his car up to the front of the fire station, glad of the time it took as it allowed him to calm his earlier emotions. He could hear his lover’s voice as he entered the hall.
Quinn was getting very nervous. He had been watching the clock and knew James would be arriving any minute. He knew it was best if he just stayed put and waited for James to arrive, but his defense mechanisms were kicking into high gear. "Mason, I'm feeling a lot better. I think I’m ready for you or one of the guys to take me back to the crown lands to get Rowan's truck."
Quinn's words were enough to reignite James ire. "I would seriously reconsider that idea if I were you," he said as he approached his reclining partner.
"Mason thank you very much for rescuing Quinn from his ill-advised excursion. I hope you'll excuse our being rude and leaving you immediately. Quinn is tired and I need to get him home to rest," his voice held a level of sarcasm he did nothing to disguise.
"No problem at all; I fully understand," Mason replied. Quinn was a little surprised at the tone of Mason's voice and the smug look he was wearing; it was as if he did actually understand.
Quinn's cheeks pinked up a bit. His brain finally seemed to catch up with the severity of the moment. "Thank you for your help, Mason."
James presented Quinn with the crutches that were leaning against the wall, noticeably out of the younger man's reach. "Let's head out," he directed.
Quinn nodded. "I'm sorry," he said in a soft whisper meant only for James.
James could hear the sincerity and nervousness in his lover's voice. "I know," he assured. "We'll discuss this at home." He helped Quinn to his feet and followed closely keeping a careful eye on him as Quinn shuffled out the door and down the few steps to the parking lot. He opened the car door and waited patiently as the younger man slid into the seat.
The drive home was quiet and tense, both men knowing what was coming and neither feeling like getting into it before they were in the comfort of their home.
The uncomfortable atmosphere in the car was too much for Quinn; he knew he was in trouble. There really was no arguing this. He had been stubborn and purposely disobeyed James' orders--which, when he thought more carefully about it, was not James being mean or unreasonable; it was just his husband’s way of protecting him from further injury. Quinn let out a jerked breath, and his hand sought out James in reassurance.
James noticed Quinn's irregular breathing as he turned into the driveway; he reached over and took his lover’s hand. "I love you, babe; we'll work it out. Let's go inside now."
"I love you too," Quinn replied. Upon entering the house, he turned to James and asked, "Are we going to the study?"
James almost laughed at Quinn's hesitant question. "What do you think?" he asked as he guided them towards the small room that served both as James's office and the place they had designated for discipline.
He gently pushed Quinn to take a seat on the old leather sofa and bent to lift the swollen foot up onto the pillow he'd placed on the coffee table. "I think I'd like you to start by explaining to me exactly what made you think a trip to the meadow was a good idea. Most especially I'd like to understand why you made a deliberate decision to defy me."
"I was tired of being cooped up in the cottage," Quinn began. "You weren't going to let me out, so I thought I had to do it when you weren't here," he replied. He glanced up at James, giving James just a glint at his sad blue eyes. He was hoping that his honesty might earn him a few brownie points.
James looked intently at the unhappy face before him. "Quinn, we agreed when we started this relationship that there would be a certain power dynamic between us. You do recall agreeing that I would be the one to make the final decisions don't you? That, most especially where your heath and well being were concerned, mine would be the final say?"
"Yes," Quinn said, lowering his gaze. "But I didn't like your decision."
"I see," James sighed. "So, rather than discussing your feelings with me like a reasonable adult, you thought waiting until I left for my conference and then sneaking out to the meadow in your brother's truck was a better idea?"
Quinn winced at the frustration in James' voice. "It wasn't really like that. I just thought if you didn't know, you wouldn't have to worry." Quinn let out a sigh of his own. "I just didn't understand what your problem was. I grew up here; I know my way around the meadow, and nothing was going to happen to me."
"Let's step backwards for one minute to your remark about not liking my decision. I have to admit to being somewhat surprised that my decisions only had to be accepted if you liked them. I had the strangest idea in my head that you were supposed to obey them even when they were unpleasant to you." James paused for only a second to draw breath before he delved in further. "As for your deeply felt concern over my worrying about you—well, I do thank you for wanting to take that off my shoulders. After all, worrying about my husband is such a burden to me. And you really are right; I was foolish to see any problems in a man with a third-degree sprain hobbling around on crutches by himself in the vast expansion of the crown land meadows. I'm sure there was no risk of you falling on the uneven ground or getting a crutch caught in one of the hundred or so gofer holes."
"I'm sorry, James," Quinn said as a few tears ran down his cheek. He wiped the tears away, "I get it was wrong. I was angry and frustrated about hurting my ankle, and I felt like you were punishing me with all the restrictions you were imposing.”
James knew his words had been harsh, but sometimes it took a bit of a reality check to reach this wonderfully obstinate man he was married to. "I know being restricted is hard on you babe. It's like trying to cage an eagle." He smiled. "You need to fly. I knew I was marrying a man born to be outdoors, a man who is one with nature, but I will do what I have to do to protect you from the dangers of your wilder side--even if that does mean keeping you in a cage while you're injured. However, that doesn't mean that you can't be put on your leash and taken out for some air, as long as I get to hold the leash." He smiled, hoping his partner would appreciate a bit of humour to lighten the mood.
Quinn smiled and then leaned into James, resting his head on James's shoulder. "I'm really sorry," he said. "But do you have to spank me now? Umm, 'cause it will make sitting and resting with my leg up kind of difficult?"
James couldn't help but smile at his lover’s attempt to avoid the inevitable. "You know, I think we can find a position you won’t be too miserable in. Come on, babe; let's get this done." He patted Quinn on the hip and then stood and carefully helped the younger man to his feet long enough to undo and pull down his jeans and boxers. He could feel Quinn squirming as he positioned him over his lap with the injured limb ensconced on a soft pillow. "I don't think there is anything further to be discussed in this matter do you?"
Quinn shook his head. "No sir."
James raised his hand and brought it down smartly on the taut buttocks, leaving a bright pink handprint. He repeated this, covering each cheek and the upper thighs with similar marks until the whole area was a deep crimson.
Quinn's sobs came quickly as he realized the impact of his day out. He had been angry with himself for injuring his ankle and all of the ramifications that came with it. He had spent four days projecting that anger at James. There were several much better options to getting outside for some fresh air that James would have gladly agreed to: resting on the hammock in the garden was the first that came to mind. He only wished he had that thought a little before he found himself bare and sobbing over James's lap.
Listening to his husband sob as he spanked him was one of the most difficult things James ever did. He had to steel himself to continue, knowing how important it was to get past his husband’s defenses and ensure the lesson was learned. Deliberate defiance was something he would not tolerate, most especially when it endangered Quinn's health and wellbeing. He continued this harsh spanking a little longer than average to ensure he had made his point very clear, only stopping when he felt the body over his lap slump in resignation. "Okay, baby, it's over," he soothed, gently rubbing his hand up and down the shuddering back until Quinn struggled to pull away.
Quinn got up off the couch, and hobbling on one foot, reached down to retrieve his fallen clothing. Just as he pulled his jeans and shorts past his knees, he lost his balance and fell backwards to the floor, landing on his very sore bottom. “Fuck!” he shouted with frustration.
“Oh hun,” James cooed to Quinn. “Come here.” James tried to help Quinn stand so he could get him back to the couch for a cuddle.
“Don’t.” Quinn squirmed to get away from James’ gentle touch. “I don’t deserve it. I was horrible, and rude, and I purposely defied you, and you were only trying to take care of me. I don’t deserve your cuddles,” Quinn said as he again burst into sobs.
"Oh babe, it's all past now. All is forgiven; I love you, and no matter how much trouble you are in, I always love to cuddle you," James bent down and pulled his beloved up, supporting him carefully to ensure the injured ankle was not bearing any weight. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Quinn. "Here. Dry your eyes and come sit with me."
Quinn struggled just a bit more before giving in to James's comforting. He let his pants and shorts fall back to the floor, deciding it had been a dumb idea to try and put them back on. He cuddled into James, resting his head against James’ chest. Today had not been one of his better days, and staying cuddled close to James was where he was planning on spending the rest of it; he doubted he could get himself into much trouble there.
When James awoke at his normal, ungodly hour to ensure breakfast preparations for his guests, Quinn moved over to James’s side of the bed. He slightly wiggled into the warmth that James’s body had left, pulled the duvet up to his face and breathed in the scent of his lover. He so wished that James could stay at home with him today, but June was the high season for The Inn and James needed to be tending to the needs of his guests. So Quinn spent most of the rest of the day quiet and somber. He found it odd that less than twenty-four hours ago all he wanted was to have some time to himself away from the Inn, but today he just wanted to be home close to James.
By the end of the day, Quinn was in need of some major loving. He had spent his afternoon pining for James’s touch and smell, and the feel of his voice whispering wonderfully dirty and sexy things in his ear. Quinn decided he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure he was paid the proper attention as soon as James returned to the cottage. He made sure that he spent most of the day off his feet, but it was easy to make minor preparations throughout the day; he set up a few candles in the bedroom before he showered, made the bed back up after his nap, and put soft music on the stereo before he returned to the bedroom shortly before he expected James.
Quinn’s body flushed with desire and excitement when he heard James come through the front door. “I’m in the bedroom with my feet up,” he called out to James and then assumed the position he knew James would not be able refuse—naked on his back, holding his knees to his chest with his legs spread wide.
James was tired and feeling not just a little guilty for leaving Quinn alone most of the day, especially after he'd had such a stressful one yesterday. He put a smile on his face and walked into their cottage, only to be assaulted with the smell of scented candles and the sound of Quinn calling him from the bedroom. He dropped his jacket over the hook by the door and followed the scent of vanilla into their bedroom. He was greeted with a sight that made any fatigue he was feeling fall right away. "Well...," he grinned. "That's what I call a welcoming vision."
Quinn raised his head to smile at James. "Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to get naked and fuck me already?"
"I just might be persuaded to succumb to your wishes." James replied, while quickly divested himself of the clothing that stood in his way of meeting skin to skin with his lover. By the time he had his boxers off he was rigid with desire. He climbed onto the bed and straddled Quinn's flushed body. "Where's the stuff?" he asked huskily while leaning over to devour Quinn’s mouth, making it impossible for the other man to reply.
The feel of James’s tongue exploring his mouth made Quinn thrust his hips forward in need of even more contact with his partner. He continued to kiss James and reached his hand under the pillow to retrieve the bottle of lube. He flipped the lid open with his thumb and squeezed a generous amount into his hand. He then took James by the hand and laced their fingers together while he transferred a generous amount of lube to his partner.
James held the kiss while he moved his hand down to Quinn's tight hole. He carefully lubed his lover with an increasing number of fingers to prepare him. Once he felt his lover was ready he positioned his hardened member at the entrance. "I'm gonna fuck you right through the bed.... You are mine and mine alone. Understand?" he whispered into Quinn's ear.
Quinn’s body shivered at James’s words. He loved when his kind sweet innkeeper talked dirty to him because he knew it was the intimacy they shared that allowed James the comfort to share this side of himself with Quinn.
"Only yours," Quinn whispered as he pushed himself against James to encourage James’s entry. James pressed forward and Quinn tightened his muscles, pulling James further inside him.
A deep guttural moan escaped James’s mouth as he slid deeply into Quinn's body. He could hear his lover's replying moan as he began to thrust in and out, regularly hitting the sensitive prostate. "Oh god, baby, you feel sooooo good...." He took his lover's equally-hard cock in his still lube-covered hand and began to work it up and down lightly, rubbing the head with each stroke.
Quinn dug his fingers into James’s back. He was in sensation ecstasy, feeling James’s warm skin rub against his own as James fucked and stroked him. He ran his cheek against James's face to feel the roughness of his whiskers before he pulled his husband in for a kiss and grunted his pleasure into James's mouth.
Quinn smiled at the look of pleasure and euphoria on James face. James continued thrusting and he increased his efforts on Quinn's cock, wanting them to cum together. Quinn's body shuddered as his husband reached his climax and filled Quinn with his essence.
Quinn wrapped his legs around James's body and used his weight to turn them, so that he was now lying on top of his hunky innkeeper. He rested his head on James's chest. "I missed you today," he said as he planted a light kiss.
James smiled and retuned the kiss. "Missed you too. But if this is how you show me you miss me I'm going to have be away more often."
Quinn bit James’s nipple in response to his cheekiness.
"Ouch! Brat!" he laughed, and he brought hand around to lightly swat Quinn's butt. "What say we get a shower then I'll take us to dinner? I've worked up an appetite and could go for a rack of baby back ribs."
Copyright 2008 TB and Mel