If It Fornicates (A Market Garden Tale) (13 page)

Spencer nodded. “Of course.”

“You do know what the ‘T’ in CBT stands for, don’t you?”

Spencer swallowed. “Torture.”

“Mm-hmm.” Nick watched him for a moment. “The fun part.”

Spencer shivered.

Nick took another drink to cool himself down. “I have plenty of devices we could play with. One or two might not fit you—” He grinned again, and so did Spencer. “—but I have a few that will. Would you like to try?”

Spencer watched him quietly. Then he said, “If that’s what you want me to do.”

Fuck, but this man was born to submit.

“Hmm. I left my bag at my flat.” Nick lowered his hand to the table and drummed his fingers. “Maybe we should go get it.”

Spencer’s eyebrows jumped. “We?”

Nick nodded. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But . . . I’ve never been to your flat.”

“I know.” He stopped tapping his fingers. “Why don’t we go over there, then?”

Spencer nodded. “Let me—” He paused. Then, gesturing at the table, asked, “May I clean all of this up first?”

Nick smiled. “Of course.”

Compared to Spencer’s house, Nick’s one-room studio in Angel was tiny. It sat atop a shop that sold furnishings—drapes and curtains and cushions that cost a fortune—but the location suited him because it was quiet in the mornings, when he had to sleep in.

He opened the door and stepped inside, let Spencer take in what he wanted. The hardwood floor, the bed in the far corner, a low futon with a sturdy headrest. The bookshelf lining one wall, and the huge desk pushed right up to the window, wooden blinds regulating the light coming in from the street. The desk was full of papers, laptop sitting on top of some psychology textbooks he was working on. Kitchenette taking up another corner. One door to a bathroom. Sparse, uncluttered; tiny, really, the whole thing smaller than Spencer’s living room.

Two large canvas prints that Nick loved filled up some of the white walls. One was a close-up shot of metal chains, filling every square inch of the canvas, adding dark and grey and silvery accents to the flat that was mostly wood surfaces and white. The other was more explicit—a bent, muscular back, barely visible in the gloom, an arty shot of strength and obedience, and in a certain light, Nick could easily imagine bruises or bloody gashes on the surface.

Spencer looked at it, studied it for a full minute, then looked back at Nick. “It’s very you.”

Nick winked. “Actually, it’s very
you
, but I’ll let that stand.”

Spencer indicated the bed. “May I?”

Right. He didn’t actually have any extra chairs, because he really only slept and studied here. And Spencer sitting down on his bed seemed crazy, somehow, really fucking intimate—his territory, his personal space, his private life, and Spencer right in the middle of it. The most shocking thing was that it didn’t freak him out. It was also hot as hell. It always took extra effort to dominate somebody in their own space, but in his own? Well, this could practically be his dungeon. Everything here was Nick’s. Including Spencer.

Nick cleared his throat. “Have a seat.”

As Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, the toy bag in the wardrobe was forgotten for the moment. It was hard to think of anything now besides the fact that Spencer was here in Nick’s flat. On his turf. Looking up at him from the edge of Nick’s bed, eyes full of
You’re in charge
and
Whatever you say, I’ll do
.

Nick approached Spencer slowly. There wasn’t a lot of room, so he made every step count, holding Spencer’s gaze. He stopped with maybe half an inch separating his leg from Spencer’s, and reached down to touch Spencer’s face. He trailed a fingertip along the underside of his jaw, pausing beneath his chin. Then he pressed upwards, tilting Spencer’s head back so he was really looking up at him now.

“I can’t even remember the last time I fucked someone here.”

Spencer gasped. The full-body shiver reverberated through Nick’s fingers.

“Would you like that, Spencer?” he whispered. “To be fucked here? In my flat?” He narrowed his eyes a little. “In my bed?”

Spencer licked his lips, then nodded as much as the fingers under his chin would allow. “I would. Yes.”

Nick drew his hand back. “Strip.”

Spencer’s hands flew to the top button of his shirt, but he paused. “May I . . . stand?”

Nick nodded. He stepped back to give Spencer more room. His mouth watered as he watched Spencer remove one layer after another. Spencer’s hands were steady, but quick; he knew better than to dawdle, and anyway, he probably wanted this as much as Nick did. Why waste time?

Spencer pushed his shoes up against the futon’s frame, and neatly folded and stacked his clothes on top of them. Then, completely naked and fully hard, he faced Nick. “Where do you want me?”

“Right there. Don’t move.” Nick pulled off his own shirt and tossed it in the general direction of Spencer’s clothes. He only had on trainers today, so he toed those off and nudged them aside. Eyes locked on Spencer’s, he unbuckled his belt. Spencer could barely stand still; the restlessness was written all over the subtle shifts of his weight to his right foot, left, right again, and the way he kept curling and uncurling his fingers into loose fists. Not nervous. He’d gotten over his nerves a long time ago.

Nick always had some sort of new game or device up his sleeve, but Spencer trusted him. Even when he
was
nervous, Spencer never seemed remotely tempted to back away. He reminded Nick of a kid trying out a theme park ride for the first time: he knew it was inherently safe, and wasn’t actually afraid, but had no idea what twists and turns and feelings awaited him once the ride began.

Nick dropped the last of his clothes on the small pile. For a moment, he just looked at Spencer. They were a couple of feet apart, both completely naked and aroused. A million ideas ran through Nick’s mind. Flog him? Bind him? Break out the evil sticks or the nipple clamps? Put him on his knees or over the bed?

His body moved before his mind had caught up, and by the time he’d realised what he was doing, Nick had closed the distance between them. He put his arms around Spencer’s waist, pulled their bodies close, pressed skin to skin, and kissed him. Spencer touched him back, almost hesitant, passive, then his hands were on Nick’s shoulder blades, firm, secure, thumbs stroking his skin.

There was something oddly protective and caring about the touch, which would have been preposterous from anybody else, but Nick found himself much less reluctant to accept it from Spencer.

Maybe that was something he’d been missing from his for-pay relationships. Maybe some return current that a man who hired him just didn’t provide, didn’t care to provide. But Spencer did. Maybe he wasn’t even aware of it. But it added something. Depth beyond lust.

He reached up and twisted Spencer’s nipples, made him cringe, but Spencer never broke the contact, and his erection kept pushing against Nick. His to torment, his to tease, his to make incoherent with pain or pleasure or both. And nobody else’s.

Nick broke the kiss and grinned up into Spencer’s face. “There’s something rather special about you.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said, and he clearly meant it. No sarcasm, no jadedness.

Nick nodded at the bed. “Lie down.”

“Back or front?”

“One day I’ll tie you down hands and feet and neck, on your belly, and fuck you with a dildo until you cry, and then I’ll fuck you . . . but not today.”

Spencer’s expression made Nick smile. It would definitely be fun to test Spencer’s endurance and make him scream, but he did feel quite a bit more mellow than that at the moment. He was just giving Spencer’s mind something to play with.

Spencer lay down, and Nick got his toy bag out of the wardrobe. He dug up some sturdy leather cuffs and put them on Spencer. Then he pulled a length of chain out of the bag—he did like the clink and strength of it, never mind the visuals—and threaded it through the cuffs’ steel ring, then fastened them securely to the bed with carabiners.

Spencer was watching him, and he remembered Spencer’s suggestion of being tied down completely. Easy enough. Next item on the list was a spreader bar, which he extended and fastened to Spencer’s legs. The man was shivering with anticipation, and groaned softly when Nick then fastened the bar to the frame of the bed. Almost no play, not on his hard mattress.

“Look at you,” Nick teased. “All hot and bothered.”

“If it pleases you.”

“It does.” Nick grabbed condoms and lube and straddled Spencer’s waist. “How much do you trust me, Spencer?” He bent down and stared into his eyes. “Remember your safeword?”

“Bonaparte.”

“That’s my boy.” Nick opened a condom wrapper, reached behind himself and rolled the condom down Spencer’s length. His stomach fluttered. He’d never taken a guy Spencer’s size, and maybe he should use a blindfold to keep Spencer literally in the dark about any nervousness, but he figured that was really the coward’s way out. In. Whatever.

“I should rent that thick cock out to some of my friends. You’d be popular.”

Spencer jerked in the chains. “Would you—really?” He seemed shocked at the thought, and Nick almost pitied him. Maybe one fantasy too far, and he really wasn’t ready to share Spencer in any case.

“We can talk about it,” Nick said mildly.

Spencer’s gaze fixed on his face. He calmed visibly and nodded.

Nick poured some lube into his hand, then ran it along the condom, aware he was mostly doing himself a favour by being thorough.

“You might not be able to talk,” Nick said. “Grab the chain.”

Spencer took it.

“Release the chain if you’re in serious trouble. I’m keeping an eye on it.”

“Okay.”

Nick applied plenty of lube to his own arsehole, then reached for Spencer’s dick. Guiding him was challenging from this angle. It might’ve been easier if Nick had left Spencer’s hands free, but the man looked so damn good like that, all bound and turned on and completely at Nick’s mercy, the extra effort was well worth it.

He pressed against the head of Spencer’s cock, but went slowly. He hadn’t done this in a while, after all. Probably could’ve had Spencer finger him first, but now that he’d gotten it in his head he was going to do this, he didn’t want more steps than were necessary. No sense letting Spencer see him lose his nerve.

Spencer stared up at him, lips parted as he watched Nick’s face. Nick had to blink a few times to keep his vision clear as he gradually relaxed, gradually yielded to Spencer. This was always the moment when he couldn’t help wondering why he so rarely let other men fuck him; it was intense to the point of breathtaking, dizzying. Except most men tried to top from the bottom when they were like this. Tried to take control. Force themselves beyond where Nick was ready to take them.

Spencer didn’t move. He had some range of motion if he wanted it—he could thrust upwards if he was so inclined—but he was completely still. Even his chest barely rose and fell as he took slow, shallow breaths.

Nick eased himself lower, and let himself groan as Spencer slid deeper inside him. That cock stretched him like no other, and the slow, careful pace kept the dull burn pleasurable instead of painful.

“Oh God,” Spencer whispered. “Oh . . . Nick . . .”

Nick bit his lip. He lifted a little, then came down lower. As he took every inch of Spencer, then slowly lifted off and came back down again, restless muscles trembled in his legs, itching to ride Spencer harder. He could take him. He could take his entire cock without discomfort. He could no doubt handle deep, hard thrusts, but he liked this. He loved this. Long, smooth strokes, feeling every inch and watching Spencer twitch and shiver beneath him.

Beyond those little involuntary responses, Spencer didn’t move. Didn’t try to push himself deeper, didn’t try to alter Nick’s rhythm. He just lay there, perfectly surrendered, and let Nick ride him.

“You feel incredible,” Nick breathed.

Spencer swept his tongue across his lips. “So . . . so do you.”

Nick put his hands on Spencer’s abs and slid them upwards as he continued slowly riding him. Spencer sucked in a breath and squirmed as Nick’s hands approached his nipples, no doubt anticipating the twist and the sting, but Nick let his fingers and palms drift lightly across the hard nubs. He continued upwards, and leaned down as his hands slid along Spencer’s arms, over his elbows, up his forearms.

He was right over Spencer now, their faces just a few inches apart. His hands met the cuffs, and he kept going right over the top of them to Spencer’s hands, which were still gripping the chain like Nick had ordered.

Nick lowered his head a little more, letting his lips brush Spencer’s. “Do you trust me, Spencer?”

“Yes.” Spencer’s warm breath whispered across Nick’s lips.

“Let go.”

Spencer hesitated.

Nick nudged his fingers gently. “Let go.”

Spencer’s fingers loosened. The chain clattered quietly, and Nick clasped his fingers between Spencer’s in the same moment he pressed their lips together. He rolled his hips, not picking up any speed but changing the angle slightly, and groaned into their slow, soft kiss as Spencer’s dick pressed against that sweet spot. This so wasn’t the kind of sex Nick usually had, not even with the leather and the chains on Spencer’s wrists and ankles, but he didn’t stop. This was too good to stop.