A Strong Hand (16 page)

Damian stared at him and started to laugh. "Why you little

... I
will
give you one, just to teach you. You'll regret stealing my thunder, you scamp."

Nick started to giggle. "Scamp? Is that a time-honored title for a sub?"

"No, but you are one," Damian said. He pulled Nick closer and unbuttoned his shirt, opening it and turning his boy to face the mirror, pressing Nick back against his chest. "You're
my
scamp and I don't mean to let you forget it."

Nick watched Damian's hands roaming possessively over his body, cupping his groin and coming up to tug meaningfully on the collar exposed now that his shirt was open.

"Mine," Damian growled. He thumbed Nick's nipples as he bent to bite the tender throat right above the collar. He sucked furiously, making a mark that would last for several days. When he was finished, he raised his head to inspect the wet red bite mark in the mirror, taking in Nick's dazed eyes and parted lips as he panted softly.

Damian spun the boy in his arms and bit his chest, just above his right nipple, leaving another sign. "Now you're marked as mine. And everyone out there will know it. Return to the table after you button up."

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With that he grabbed the boy's hair, pulling him closer, and kissed Nick bruisingly hard, not giving him a kiss so much as demanding possession of his mouth. And then he was gone.

Nick looked after Damian in a trance, wondering what had just happened between them. For sure, it had been interesting. And he felt infinitely relieved that he'd been able to stop Damian, merely by using his safe word.

He buttoned up, noticing that the mark Damian had sucked on his neck peeked over the collar of his shirt. He drew a finger over his swollen lips in wonder that he could arouse that passion of possessiveness.

Damian returned to the table wearing a feral grin that put Ashley on alert. He was having so much fun watching Dominant Damian come out to play that he hadn't even quarreled once with Derek during the time they'd been left alone at the table.

Damian watched with pride as certain persons in the room recognized the mark of ownership he'd set upon Nick's neck, watching him weave his way through the tables. There was acknowledgment of his claim and the one Dom who'd challenged Damian discreetly lifted his glass in capitulation.

Ashley noticed the slightly bewildered look and reddened lips, and watched to see whether Nick winced as he dropped to his chair. As he didn't, Ashley concluded that something different than he anticipated had happened in the restroom.

He was dying to ask, but he knew that Damian would never tell him.

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Derek's eyes flicked between the other three men. He recognized the look of a successful hunter on Damian's face, the confused lust on Nick's, but what surprised him most was the expression of longing in Ashley's eyes when the older man looked at him. He smiled tentatively and wondered if perhaps he'd been too hasty in refusing a spanking from the handsome man.

* * * *

Baulked of his intention to mark Nick in the restroom at the restaurant, Damian was determined to possess him tonight. It was all very well to leave a hickey and growl
mine,
but he wished to take what no other man before him had enjoyed. It annoyed him that he was unable to control his own impulses, but he pushed the thought away.

"Go to the makeup room. Wait for me," Damian commanded tersely.

Nick was beginning to realize that he was not going to get off with a mere hickey. Tonight Damian was determined to mark him is some more visible way. He felt a thrill of fear, not knowing exactly what Damian had planned for him, but knowing that he was going to be feeling something different on his arse tonight. He started when Damian reappeared in the doorway.

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"Follow me."

Nick walked meekly behind Damian into the office, realizing that all of their scenes had so far taken place here.

He wondered if he would ever see Damian's home, and concluded that probably the older man didn't want him prying into his private life. For some reason that thought upset him and he kept his eyes down, so that Damian couldn't see the sudden tears he was trying to hide.

"Hands behind your back. Choose two."

Nick surveyed the desk, where Damian had laid out a selection of implements. He shuddered; so far Damian had used only his hand. Now he was asking Nick to select from a crop, a whip, a strap, something with two tails, a paddle, and what he now knew was called a flogger. He shivered, wondering how each one would feel connecting with his arse.

"I don't have all day. Choose or I'll choose for you,"

Damian said sharply.

Hesitantly, Nick asked, "May I point, sir?"

Realizing the boy didn't know the names of everything, Damian said, "You may."

The younger man pointed to the tawse and the crop.

"Good choices," Damian said maliciously. "You'll be feeling this for several days. You'll be eating your breakfast standing up."

Nick wondered what had happened to the man who had held him in the restroom, apologizing for scaring him.

"Pants down. Bend over," Damian ordered. "You're going to feel this tomorrow and the marks may last a couple of days."

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Hesitantly, Nick undid his pants, pushing them down to his knees, and bent over, feeling that his arse made far too conspicuous a target. He was nervous and his mouth was dry.

"Grab your ankles."

Nick bent further and grabbed his ankles, feeling a twinge of discomfort in his hip. He tensed up, uncomfortably conscious that in this position, his cheeks were stretched to the point that his hole must be clearly visible to Damian.

He felt Damian place the crop on his backside, just touching it, as if trying to get the range. Suddenly his hip was seized with pain, and he let out a groan.

"Nick? Nicky!"

The young man dropped to his hands and knees, panting, with his head dropped to the carpet, trying not to scream with the pain.

Damian dropped the crop and knelt beside Nick in alarm, running a soothing hand over the trembling back. "What is it, babe? I didn't even touch you!"

"My hip," Nick groaned. "Muscle spasm."

"Oh fuck," Damian muttered. "Can you move?"

"No." Nick gasped in pain.

"Okay, sweetheart. You just hang on. I'll do all the moving; you just let me take control."

Damian couldn't tell whether Nick could even hear him; he was panting and sweat was pouring off him as he shivered, frozen in place on his hands and knees.

Damian ran for a blanket from the studio, spreading it over the leather of the couch. Then he gently lifted Nick's body, straightening his back. He got the young man to his feet and 152

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lifted him in his arms, carrying him to the couch, laying him down on the unscarred side.

He hurried to the kitchen, nuking a microwavable heating pad and snatched up a towel while he waited for it to be ready.

He ran back to the office, wincing as he saw Nick's shoulders shuddering as if he was crying. "Where does it hurt?"

"Scar," Nick moaned. It was becoming harder to keep the tears in and he didn't ever want to cry in front of Damian. He wanted Damian to think he was brave, even though he knew he wasn't.

Damian put the towel over Nick's hip and laid the heating pad on it carefully. Nick let his breath out on a low moan.

Damian rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Take it easy, babe. Try to relax."

"I'm sorry—" Nick began, almost sobbing.

"Shhh, calm down, take deep breaths. Your hip will feel better if you can relax."

"Is that an order, sir?" Nick whimpered.

Damian was startled, and then he laughed, unable to believe that Nick could still crack a joke when he was in such pain.

"Yeah, it's an order." He went to his private bathroom and got some lotion, warming it on his hands. He pushed up the ugly shirt and started to massage Nick's lower back edging toward his hip, finding the knots of tension and working them out. He continued to stroke down the curve of the younger man's hip, moving the heating pad and towel. The skin along 153

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the scar was hot from the pad and Damian dug his fingers in gently, listening to the gasps and moans as he loosened the tight muscles.

Nick sagged in relief and his fists unclenched as Damian's hands worked their magic, releasing him from the prison of his rigid muscles.

Damian backed off on the pressure, merely stroking the slender back gently, offering what comfort he could to the boy. He heard the sigh of relief as Nick sagged even deeper into the couch.

"Okay, babe?"

"Yeah, I—I'm okay," Nick said shakily. He tried to push himself up but Damian's hand kept him pressed to the couch.

"Does this happen often? Do you have any pain pills?"

"Not too often. I have pills at my flat," Nick said in an exhausted voice.

"Would you trust me with your keys so I can go and get them?" Damian asked anxiously.

"No, I'll just go home. I don't want to be a bother."

"I'll take you home. Let's get you dressed. Let me do all the work; don't try to sit up by yourself. You might tweak it again," Damian ordered.

Nick was feeling rather limp and he was more than happy to allow Damian to maneuver his pants up. Damian hoisted him to his feet and slid an arm around his waist. How he managed the doors and locks, Nick didn't know; he was too out of it to take notice.

The next thing he knew Damian had buckled him into his car and was getting in the other side.

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"Nick? Nicky? I need to know where you live."

Nick rested his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes wearily. He hadn't had an attack this bad in a long time. He managed to give his address before lapsing into a dazed state.

When he felt Damian searching his pockets for his keys, Nick realized the car had stopped.

"Right front pocket," he whispered.

Damian found the keys and got out, locking the car. He hated leaving Nick there alone in a neighborhood renowned for being very seedy. From the look of the building it was unlikely that there was an elevator, and even though he was strong and fit he didn't fancy carrying Nick up an unknown number of stairs.

He found Nick's name on the mailbox and ran up the stairs two at a time, puffing by the time he reached the fourth floor.

His instinct was right; he was not going to be carrying Nick up four stories. If worse came to worst, he would take the boy home with him.

He unlocked the door and stopped, appalled by the poverty that made the tiny flat cold and ugly. It was only a single room, with a bed and a tiny bathroom. No place to prepare food, no luxuries. Apparently Nick did not own a TV or radio, although he had a laptop. And he was a slob. Clothing covered every surface, mingled with books and papers.

Damian's lips tightened; now was not the time, but he would make sure Nick changed that or they would never be able to live together in harmony. Fuck! Where had
that
come from?

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Damian stood motionless in shock as he worried exactly when he'd decided that Nick would be moving in with him.

Then he remembered that he had left the semi-conscious young man in the car and resumed his search. At least Nick had left his pills in a sensible spot, in the medicine cabinet.

Damian locked the door behind him and leaped down the stairs. He was relieved to see his car intact and Nick apparently asleep.

He got in quietly and started the car. Nick's head rolled to the side and he opened his eyes to slits. "Find them?"

"Yes. See if you can get some sleep. We'll be home in fifteen minutes," Damian said soothingly.

Home
. The words echoed in Nick's groggy mind. It had a nice ring to it. He spent as little time in his flat as possible. He didn't think of it as home; that was where his parents and his sister were, in the house where he grew up.

But if he wanted to study art he had to be in London, and his parents couldn't afford to send him so finding this flat was actually a stroke of luck. It was cheap and it was close enough to school that he could walk, saving him the tube fare.

When Damian turned the car into the circular drive and slowed to a stop, Nick pried his eyes open to see a charming Tudor cottage, two stories with a garden that looked enchanting even under the moonlight.

Damian ran around the car, opening the door and extracting Nick from the seat. He pulled Nick's arm over his shoulder and supported him to the door, unlocking it and kicking it open.

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He guided Nick down a short hallway to a room with a fairly large bed. "I'm going to get you into bed. Let me do all the work, right?"

"Yeah."

Damian lowered Nick down onto the bed and stripped him, making short work of it. He lifted the slight body to pull the covers out from under him and tucked him in. "I'll be right back."

He fetched a glass of water and sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He raised Nick to lean him against his shoulder and gave him one tablet and the water.

Nick swallowed and let his head drop onto the comforting shoulder, nuzzling into Damian's neck.

"Do you need two?" Damian questioned him.

"No," Nick managed.

"Okay. I'm just going to lock up and I'll be right back,"

Damian said. He arranged Nick to recline comfortably and went to secure the car and house.