If It Flies

  “Shit.” The word came out as more of a grunt than anything.

  “I don’t recall saying you could talk.” The razor sharp edge on Nick’s voice jolted him more than the slap had. “Unless I ask you a question, or you’re using your safeword” – crack – “you won’t speak. Got it?”

  Spencer nodded.

  Crack.

  “Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.” The edge dulled slightly, enough to untie the muscles below Spencer’s neck.

  Nick’s body heat moved, gathering off to Spencer’s left side, leaving his right side cool and exposed. Then, once again, the entire room was still and silent. He imagined Nick slipping in and out of his tangible, flesh-and-blood form, flitting from solid to ghostly and back just because he fucking could. If not for that warmth beside him, he might have believed that was exactly what was happening.

  Snap.

  “Fuck!”

  The evil stick bit in just below Spencer’s nipple. Everything behind the blindfold flashed red for a split second, and he ground his teeth to keep from cursing again.

  “You aren’t supposed to speak.” Crack. “Right?”

  “Right,” Spencer said through his teeth. “Sorry.”

  Silence. Stillness.

  Snap.

  Spencer bit back a curse. Held his breath until he was sure it wouldn’t slip out. Then he exhaled slowly, and realised he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to rub the stinging red hot spot inside his forearm. Probably not. Asking might get him a slap on the arse, presuming might get him an evil stick across the knuckles.

  Snap.

  Under the shoulder blade this time.

  Spencer breathed slowly and evenly. The tiny focal points of pain still glowed on his nerve endings, like stars coming into view one by one in a dark, bare sky. One by one – in the middle of his buttock, just below his collarbone, on the inside of his thigh – more stars came into focus, each glowing brightly at first before settling into the same intensity as the ones before, slowly forming a constellation.

  Spencer braced against the bed and forced back tears that were increasingly from pleasure more than pain.

  Pleasure? From –

  Snap.

  God, yes.

  Snap.

  The sound he forced back this time was a groan. As imaginary lines connected the stars, Spencer spun further into warm, red-dotted darkness. This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be this delirious from pain, and this oblivion shouldn’t be so inviting, but to hell with it – snap, snap, snap – he didn’t fight it.

  All at once, the side of his face was covered by warmth, by softness, and the sudden touch – alien compared to the snapping evil stick – jolted him hard, violently, spectacularly, and his knees sagged beneath him. One light touch after all those bites, and he damn near came.

  I don’t know what you’re doing, Nick, but don’t ever, ever stop.

  “You’re doing well.”

  Those simple words of approval meant the world to Spencer. More than wrapping up a big job. More than happy clients congratulating him for ploughing through an acquisitions contract over an extremely long weekend powered by twice-brewed espresso and sheer desperation.

  “Thank you,” Spencer muttered, and then flinched when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to speak.

  His nipple burst into fire when Nick twisted it in retaliation. He cringed and writhed, and although the pain kept him centred in his body, somehow he was slipping away. Life was incredibly simple right now, and nothing mattered beyond what Nick gave him. No thoughts anymore that he was calling the shots, that Nick was just hired help. Right now, even that didn’t seem to matter, though it should have freaked him out.

  Nick’s hand trailed down his front, and Spencer gasped for breath, expecting another slap or something worse, except now on his dick. Maybe he should beg for that not to happen? But would Nick care, short of using the emergency exit of the word or the gesture?

  Nick’s dry hot palm closed around his dick, jerked him a couple of times, and Spencer’s legs grew weak, especially when Nick’s hand slid up and squeezed the tip of his cock in the foreskin. Spencer’s knees nearly gave and he pushed into that hand in reflex.

  “Please.”

  The hand slid lower and damn near crushed Spencer’s balls.

  “Yes?”

  Spencer tried to resist the urge to try to protect his balls. The pain was oh so good when it stopped. “I want to feel you ...”

  “You are.” Nick twisted his hand around Spencer’s balls again, and Spencer moaned.

  “In...inside.”

  Nick paused, moved somehow, but Spencer wasn’t sure what he was doing. Nick’s hand pushed something between his fingers. “Put that on me.”

  A condom. Sweet fucking hell.

  Spencer took it in both hands, but soon realised that opening a condom was more complex when he couldn’t see a thing, especially when his senses were still overloaded, the evil stick’s bites still tingling and burning to the point of distraction. And even when he’d pulled the condom from the torn packet, it was all much more complicated than it should have been. Which way was the right way around? He reached to the side, where Nick stood, ran his hands along the leather trousers to get an idea of the geography, located the zip with one hand while he held the condom with the other. He twisted his arm enough to pull the zip down, and, oh wow, Nick didn’t wear any underwear. That thick cock nestled into his hand, and Spencer was tempted to pet and caress it, but that hadn’t been the order.

  He was just glad that he did seem to turn Nick on. Or at least what they did.

  He placed the condom on Nick’s cock, held it with one hand and rolled it down with the other, felt Nick’s fingers on his, adjusting the latex, making sure it was all in the right place.

  “Down.”

  Spencer retook his position against the bed and bent a little to level the difference in height. Opened his legs further so Nick had him where he wanted. Where they both wanted.

  He heard the lube cap open and close, the wet sounds of lube being smeared on a condom.

  Finally. Spencer clenched his eyes behind the blindfold and took a few slow, deep breaths. As Nick’s fingers slipped into his crack and found his anus, he took even slower, deeper breaths. Not nerves this time. Oh, hell no. He was so far beyond nerves now. Just need. Pure, white-hot need. He reminded himself not to grit his teeth, no matter how impatient he was, because that would only make him tense up and prolong Nick’s careful but insistent prepping, sliding lubed fingers in and out of the ring, but never reaching far in.

  Apparently satisfied Spencer was ready for him – which he was, oh God, he so was – Nick withdrew his fingers, and wiped them on Spencer’s thigh. He rested one hand on Spencer’s hip, but not the other, and Spencer imagined it steadying Nick’s cock by the base. Steadying it. Guiding it.

  Oh, fuck. There. Yes.

  Nick pressed in, and Spencer pushed back, leaned back, wanting as much of Nick as possible and to hell with the pain.

  “Patience,” Nick said, half teasing and half dead serious. “We’re doing things my way, remember?”

  Spencer licked his lips and nodded. “Sorry.”

  Nick pushed against him again, and just like the first time, Spencer almost collapsed in on himself when the head of Nick’s cock passed the tight ring and was, finally, inside him. He gripped the footboard tighter and curled his toes into the coarse carpet as Nick slid deeper, withdrew, slid even deeper.

  His skin tingled all over, especially where the sparks of pain still lingered, and his lack of sight left him no choice but to focus a little on those burning embers, while the bulk of his awareness concentrated on Nick’s slow, slick strokes. Nick had barely touched his cock, had only just started fucking him, and Spencer swore he was already a breath away from letting go. This was an unknown, unexplored level of turned on, an intense need for release coupled with an insatiable craving for more, more, more, and Nick
had barely got started.

  Both of Nick’s hands were on Spencer’s hips now, fingertips digging into his flanks as he started picking up speed. And it was glorious, every movement just right, just perfect, and with the residual sting from the evil sticks echoing all over on his skin, Nick’s steady, strong, demanding presence, the way he was inside him and holding him by the hips – it all came together into one amazing whirlwind of sensation that matched his need perfectly, the fucking like a much-rehearsed movement; they just worked together like this, until even their breaths came in parallel.

  Spencer pushed back, wanted more, wanted to come, wanted to feel Nick at his worst and best. Ignoring the warning hiss, he pushed back harder, trying to get Nick to speed up.

  Instead, the bastard stopped.

  “You’re not in control,” Nick informed him. “It’s a privilege to have your hands free. Not to be gagged. If you don’t behave, I’ll tie you up like a Christmas turkey. Understood?” A vicious twist to a nipple made Spencer shudder and groan.

  “Understood.”

  “Good.” Nick’s hand moved from his nipple to his throat, dug in fingers and thumb, and what was it about that touch that made Spencer’s balls draw up? He felt Nick pulse inside him, and heard something like a small gasp. Nick’s hand pressed harder against his throat; it really hurt, because that fucker was strong.

  Then, at the same time, Nick’s thrusts picked up again, short and brutal, and that combination set Spencer off like fireworks. His throat was pressed shut while he came, and he didn’t really have enough air to gasp, and he saw stars behind the blindfold while Nick kept fucking him hard.

  He nearly buckled when Nick pulled out and stroked his back.

  “Well done,” Nick told him and took him by the elbow, guiding him around the bed and onto the mattress.

  Nick vanished for a couple of minutes. When he returned, he settled near Spencer on the bed and pulled him against his chest. Still blindfolded. He smelled of coconut and pineapple and fresh sweat, which seemed a vast improvement on the regular piña colada recipe.

  “Oh God,” Spencer breathed.

  Nick ran his fingers over Spencer’s shoulder. “Hate to break it to you, but you are a masochist.”

  Spencer chuckled. “No shit.” Though it did seem weird to own that title, and if someone had told him in the middle of a normal Tuesday afternoon, he might have balked. But lying here with fading red points on his nerve endings, and his whole body still floating from the fucking evil sticks and the . . . well, the fucking? He couldn’t argue.

  Those fine fingers stroked Spencer’s hair, and he pressed against them like a cat.

  Nick laughed softly. “Kind of had a feeling you would be.”

  “Oh yeah?” Spencer turned his head towards the sound of Nick’s voice. “What gave you that idea?”

  “Well, I figured you must enjoy suffering if you hang out with the doucheweasel.”

  Spencer snorted. “What? You know him?”

  Nick made a soft, derisive sound, and Spencer could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Uh, yeah. And if you’re a friend of his, you must be a pain slut.”

  “Oh, he’s not that bad.”

  “You’ve obviously never tried to sell him your dick.”

  “Uh, no. Can’t say I have.”

  “Brings out the arsehole in a lot of people. Ironically.”

  Spencer hesitated. “You deal with a lot of jerks in your line of work?”

  “Well, they’re usually the ones in need of cock by the hour.” Nick shrugged, his shoulder brushing Spencer’s. “Either because no one else will touch them, or because they can’t stay faithful to the ones who do.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a great work environment. With people like that around.”

  “Says the lawyer.” Nick wriggled beside him, maybe stretching out or otherwise getting comfortable, and continued stroking Spencer’s hair. “Only difference between your work environment and mine is I can shove a ball gag – or anything, really – into someone’s mouth if he won’t shut up. And fuck him up the arse. Which sort of makes it easier to put up with their bullshit, you know?”

  “Does it?”

  “Sure. Say whatever you want, when I’m balls deep in you, I’m in charge and we both know it.”

  Spencer shivered. Oh, yeah. He did know it, didn’t he? And he fucking well liked it and didn’t give a damn why. He cleared his throat. “So, um, do you mind if I ask a personal question?”

  “Ask whatever you want. Price doesn’t include answers.”

  “So is there any point in asking?”

  “Maybe.” Another unseen shrug. “Just no guarantee.”

  “Fair enough.” Wonder how much guaranteed answers are. “How in the world did you get into this business?”

  “It’s easy money.”

  “Is it?”

  “Week’s salary for a night of work? Sure is.” Nick traced the line of Spencer’s nose down to his lips. “Spent lots of time in various clubs. Sometimes, people offered me money. Sometimes, I took it. Gathered some experience. Went full-time.”

  “Just like that?”

  Nick chuckled. “I wasn’t forced into it. I’m not a broken kid who needs to be rescued, Spencer. I do what I do because I’m good at it and it pays a lot.”

  “Damn,” Spencer murmured. “There go all my clichés.”

  “Not saying they don’t exist, but ...” Nick shrugged again. “I might upgrade to online porn someday, but the thing is, I like to see who I’m dealing with, and the camera adds performance stress. I don’t think this shit should be rushed.”

  Yeah, things like the petting and the ... centring, for want of a better word – those needed time and patience. With a camera, things were on the clock by the minute rather than the hour, and he imagined that could quite easily go very wrong. “So what’s this? A cuddle? Heart-to-heart?”

  “You were flying so high, I had to bring you back down. Aftercare.”

  “Okay.” He felt good. Easy. Light. Relaxed. Deeper and warmer than simple after-sex buzz. “I like this.”

  Nick chuckled again. “I like all of it. The anticipation. The build. The sex. And then this.”

  “I imagine it might be different with a partner or a boyfriend.”

  He’d been fishing, and he knew it. Nick didn’t respond immediately, so he’d noticed it too. And didn’t answer. Maybe too close to home, too personal, or maybe a warning sign that a customer was getting rather too interested.

  When he finally did say something, it wasn’t exactly an answer. “You seem to be single.”

  “Yeah, the last one ... transferred to the New York City branch to work on acquisitions in Europe for American multi-nationals. Great career step for him, but a long-distance thing wasn’t really feasible when both of us were falling asleep over a pile of files almost every night, anyway.”

  “Ugh. I don’t know which would be worse: the job with the pile of files, or the boyfriend with the pile of files.”

  “Try both.”

  “I’ll pass.” Nick touched Spencer’s face, and the tender contact startled him until he realised Nick was just sliding off the blindfold. “Don’t need this anymore,” he said, and tossed it on the floor in the general vicinity of his duffel bag. “So what’d you do? Date a co-worker?”

  “No. Same line of work, different companies.” Spencer’s eyes took a moment to come into focus, but when he could finally make out Nick’s smooth features, he said, “and both brought work home at night.”

  “Well, better than fishing off the company pier, but not by much.”

  “Tell me about it.” he said, “You ever do that?”

  “What? Date people I work with?”

  Spencer nodded.

  “Fuck, no.” He absently reached down to fiddle with his belt, squirming like he’d rested on something uncomfortable. “Co-workers or clients.”

  Well, damn.

  The pang of disappointment smacked Spencer in the gut harder than Nick
had slapped his arse earlier. And what the hell was that about? Disappointed that the prostitute he’d paid for didn’t work for free?

  “Do you date at all?” Spencer asked.

  “You find me a guy worth dating who’s willing to date a whore, and we’ll talk.” The faintest hint of bitterness tinged the edges of his voice. Nick cleared his throat and quickly said, “And I’d be bored to death with someone who fell asleep on file folders every night.”

  Ouch.

  Spencer tried to come up with a defence like that he wouldn’t take work home if he could have something so much better (though he knew if he was ever going to make partner, he likely would have to), then muttered, “I don’t think that’s inevitable.”

  “Spencer.” Nick’s voice was firm, though kind, nothing like that easily commanding game voice he used. “Look at me.”

  Spencer did, and Nick looked at him intently, like this was terribly important. “Right now, you’re in a pretty weird place. Open doors and all that. You’re discovering what you really like, and that’s fine by me. I’m more than okay to train you. But the thing is, it’s intense. It can be really intense, and emotions get muddled. What’s lust and getting off on the pain can quite easily get mistaken for something more than that. I’m not saying ‘more serious,’ because that stuff is damn serious, but I know people who’ve made life decisions based on those feelings and ended up making mistakes. Do you understand?”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not,” Nick said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen it before. I can be your Dom, but there’s no way in hell I’ll date you.”

  Double ouch.

  “Okay. I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Just making sure you don’t end up in a bad place there, Spencer. I have to look after you. Part of the job. If I take you there, I have to make sure you’re safe and find your way back.”

  “Sounds very ... ethical.” It hurt a bit, but maybe Nick was right and this was the best moment to nip it all in the bud. Maybe it was just flying high from the pain that felt similar to a crush or something even worse. The lust was a given, the emotional side ... wasn’t. But with his normal everyday defences stripped, maybe it was just too easy to fall into that trap – to think this could be more.