If It Fornicates (A Market Garden Tale) (18 page)

In light of some of their recent conversations, that sounded bad. It definitely made his hackles rise. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Spencer smiled, but didn’t reach out to touch him. “I was thinking you could move in with me. I have a lot of space; it wouldn’t get crowded. And when I’m on a case, I’m working long hours anyway, so you’ll have all the peace and quiet you could possibly need for studying. Everything else—I’d cover that. It’s no big deal for me, I’m making good money. It would give you time to finish your studies and find out what you want without having to deal with needy bastards who drain you and make you miserable.”

Nick squirmed under the weight of what Spencer was suggesting. “You want . . . you want me to quit the Garden and come live with you?”

Spencer watched him for a moment, maybe trying to gauge if Nick was surprised or hostile. “I’d like it if you did. It’s your decision, of course.”

Damn you for playing the perfect submissive card right now . . .

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “I’d be . . . you’d . . .” Restlessness finally got the best of him, and he stood. He stepped around the coffee table and paced back and forth as Spencer watched him silently.

Nick swallowed. “I’d be completely dependent on you. For years. Until I get chartered and can practice.”

“Not necessarily,” Spencer said. “There’s nothing that says you can’t work or contribute. Just—”

“Just not whoring myself out.” The comment came out more sharply than Nick intended, and Spencer winced, dropping his gaze. Nick exhaled. “I’m sorry. I . . . I’m just not sure about this.”

“You said the job is making you miserable.”

“A lot of people’s jobs make them miserable.”

Their eyes met. Spencer didn’t have to say it.

A lot of people’s jobs don’t involve having sex with other people
.

He stopped pacing, folding his arms loosely across his chest. “You’re probably right about that part. I can’t do that job anymore. Not like I used to, anyway.”

“And if you quit,” Spencer said softly, “what would you do?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“I’m offering you a chance to figure that out.”

“As long as I move in with you.”

Spencer jumped. “It’s not an ultimatum, Nick.”

“But what choice do I have?” Nick threw up his hands, not even sure why he was angry. “If I keep working there, it’s going to wear me down to nothing. If I quit, I can’t pay my living expenses, my tuition fees, my mortgage, and I have nowhere to go. Nowhere but . . .” He sighed, the anger deflating as quickly as it had started. “Nowhere but here.”

Spencer rose. He approached Nick slowly, and he could probably see every muscle in Nick’s torso tensing. If he didn’t see it, then he damn sure felt it when he put a gentle hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.” Nick rubbed his forehead just to give himself a reason not to look at Spencer. “And honestly? Part of me would love to live with you. Because then I’d be close to you. All the time.”

Spencer’s fingers pressed in gently. “But . . .?”

Nick lowered his hand and made himself look up at Spencer. “But I don’t want to depend on you. I . . . there isn’t much worse for a Dom than being dependent on someone else. Completely powerless.”

“Powerless?” Spencer shook his head slowly. “No. You wouldn’t be.”

“Yes, I would.” Nick swallowed hard. “Some of the guys at the Garden would kill for a sugar daddy. Me? The idea of living in your house, spending your money, eating your food, it’s . . .” He shook his head again and lowered his gaze. “I know it sounds to you like you’re offering me a key. But to me, something like that feels more like a prison.”

Spencer winced. “People have shared responsibilities for, I don’t know, thousands of years. There are lots of people who make this kind of thing work—to have children or something.”

“Yeah, but then it’s necessary.” Nick raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t do it. I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come home and then entertain you.”

Spencer recoiled. “It’s not like I’d be a client who’d expect you to . . .”

“If you’re paying my way, that’s exactly what it would feel like. Shit, I almost ended up in something like that before. Though I can’t say I was quite so . . . fucking involved.” Nick rubbed his face. “Guy offering me room and board for free. He was submissive, so it all worked for me, but then he started making demands, tried to set the rules. Used his power. I was out of there like a bat out of hell.” He met Spencer’s eyes. “I don’t want this to go the same way.”

“Yeah, but we have a good relationship. A good start, anyway. Something real that will likely do well if we give it more space and time and invest in it.” Spencer reached for Nick’s arm and squeezed gently before drawing his hand back. “I want you to be happy, not torn up like this. I want a partner, not a sex slave. And certainly not you in that role. I don’t think I’d do well making any demands on you.”

True. It seemed very much against Spencer’s character. But you only really got to know somebody when you lived with them for a while. Nick had learned the hard way in the past that living under the same roof could reveal even the most easy-going guy’s control freak side. But Spencer wouldn’t be like that, would he? He’d never be the type to try to control things. Control Nick. That just wasn’t him.

But taking that step was still an unsettling prospect for Nick. Right now, he could still walk away. Go part-time as a student, work a few jobs, hell, do the studying on the weekend or a couple evenings a week. Eventually, he’d get there.

“Your flat,” Spencer said. “You’re buying it, aren’t you?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“You could rent it out. Then if things don’t work out here, with me, you’d still have that.” He held Nick’s gaze. “I don’t want you to be trapped here, Nick. This isn’t for my benefit.”

Nick allowed himself a small grin. “So you’d be getting nothing out of it.”

Spencer hesitated, eyeing Nick cautiously, but then he chuckled. “Well, I never said
that
. And . . .” He hesitated again, this time breaking eye contact.

“What?” Nick asked.

Spencer took a deep breath. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what we talked about the other night. About my job.”

“Have you?”

Spencer nodded. “And today, talking to Percy, that just kind of drove a few points home.” He met Nick’s eyes again. “I’m miserable too. I go to work every day, do all the tedious shit that would drive most people into a bottle, and all the while pretend I’m someone else. The only time I get to be who I am is here.” He cleared his throat, twice. “Especially when I’m here with you.”

All the air slipped out of Nick’s lungs. “So what . . . what are you going to do?”

“I spent a little time today looking up some options, read some forums. There are more gay-friendly law firms out there, for one, and I could even change fields and work for a company that has normal hours—there are some around. Generally downshift, so I have more of a life, though on a smaller salary. If everything else fails, I could get qualified in general health and wellness and massage therapy in a year or two.” He paused, shifting his weight once, then twice. “Maybe you and I can work something out.”

“Such as . . .?”

“I’ll stick with law for now,” Spencer said. “While you finish up your studies. Save some money so there’s a good cushion and all, and once you’re on your feet with your career, then I can change mine.”

Nick took a long moment just to comprehend what Spencer was suggesting. He’d pegged the whole thing all wrong. Spencer wasn’t stripping away his independence and caging him in. This was a two-way street. That whole give-and-take thing he’d never really experienced in a relationship.

“I still have a year and half left,” he said. “Before I graduate. And that’s just the start. Work experience, getting chartered. It’ll be years.”

Spencer nodded. “That’d be more than enough time to save some money. If we help each other out on this, we could both be in less miserable careers within, what, five years?”

“You’d be willing to wait that long.” Nick blinked. “Stay with the firm or one like it, hold off on what you want . . . until I’m settled into my career?”

“Yes.” Spencer reached for Nick’s hand and slipped his fingers between Nick’s. “We both deserve to be happy, don’t you think?”

I’m just not so sure I deserve a man like you.

Spencer’s thumb traced a slow arc along the side of Nick’s hand. “No one has to make a decision tonight. If you want to think on it, we—”

“I want to.”

Spencer jumped.

Nick took a breath. He clasped Spencer’s hand a little tighter and stepped closer to him. “There’s nothing to think about. I want to.”

Spencer gave a long, relieved sigh. “But if you say yes now and decide differently further down the road that it’s not working, then . . .”

“Understood. Things change.” Five years, though. That seemed manageable. He could rent out the studio. It would cover the mortgage payment, possibly a little extra. And that way, he’d keep it as an emergency thing, too. If it didn’t work out. “But it’s no reason not to take a little risk.”

“No risk from my point of view. We can keep each other’s backs free. And I’ll be much happier knowing there’s light at the end of the tunnel, too.”

“Same here.” Nick grinned and pulled him closer for a kiss.

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, and Nick would almost have thought it was a sign that Spencer had given up responsibility—submitted to him, but it now seemed like simple relief.

So much acceptance, levelheadedness and strength, he did envy Spencer those. In this case, though, maybe it was also that
Spencer
felt accepted; if he felt Nick was on his side, had his back, was on the same page, that gave Spencer the courage to be strong for both of them.

He should have seen it earlier—it was all give and take, one of them building upon the other, a self-supporting structure built on trust, just like any other relationship, whether it involved whips and chains or not. That
I love you
hadn’t come easily, but now the things they could build on were taking shape. Room in which to develop all the things they could give each other, all the things they could learn about each other.

Spencer met his eyes. “There’s also the guest bedroom. That could be your study. Or if you want your own bed—”

“Now you’re getting ridiculous. If anything, I’ll kick you out of the main bedroom, or you’ll sleep on the floor.”

Spencer gave a short laugh. “Yes, you would.” He paused. “I mean, if that’s what you wanted.”

“The last thing I’d want is to sleep anywhere you aren’t.” Nick reached up and gripped Spencer’s tie right under the knot. Just before he kissed Spencer again, he said, “And don’t you forget it.”

Thank yous go to Sarah and Rachel, our editors, Alex and Nevair, our proofers, and Jordan Taylor, who created the covers for
If It Flies
and
If It Fornicates
. Despite everybody’s best efforts, all remaining mistakes (especially in the British language department) remain Aleks’s fault, as usual. L.A. can cite lack of caffeine as a reason, but Aleks has no such excuse.