If It Fornicates (A Market Garden Tale) (14 page)

Skin brushed across skin, drawing Nick’s attention to their joined hands. That was when he became aware he’d been running his thumb back and forth along the back of Spencer’s. A gentle, affectionate gesture, a touch just for the sake of touching, and he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it.

He broke the kiss and lifted up a little so he could see Spencer’s eyes. “Does this feel . . .” He licked his lips. “Does this feel all right?”

“More than all right,” Spencer whispered. He closed his eyes and wriggled beneath Nick, the slight lift of his hips pressing him a little deeper inside and blurring Nick’s vision.

Nick bit back an “Oh God.” He kissed Spencer lightly, released one hand, then the other, and pushed himself upright. Holding himself up on his arms, he rode Spencer a little harder, his head spinning faster and faster every time he took all of Spencer inside him. Much more of this, he’d lose it himself, and he hadn’t teased Spencer nearly enough for that yet.

Though the blissed-out expression on Spencer’s face seemed to indicate that he was quite happy with how things were going. But he didn’t call the shots, so Nick slowed down, ground against him, and gathered a clear thought. Spencer gasped and tensed underneath him, so Nick held completely still, regardless of what it cost him. He’d be sore as hell if he drew this out, but right now, he was enjoying the tension pooling in Spencer’s body—and his own.

“Please,” Spencer begged.

Nick placed a finger on Spencer’s lips. “Grab the chains,” he whispered softly.

Spencer nodded and managed on the second attempt.

“Good.” Nick kissed him deeply again, moving just a little, just enough to see stars and feel the tension build further. “Trust me.” He kissed him more deeply, and when he broke the kiss, he shut off Spencer’s breath with a hand over his mouth and nose.

Spencer shuddered, but didn’t freak out. He stared at Nick with wide eyes, but didn’t fight. And he didn’t fight when Nick moved harder, fucking himself on Spencer’s dick, damn near brutal, and hell, Nick would feel this for days, but he didn’t care.

Spencer squirmed, but his hands were firmly clenched around the chains. Five, six, seven vicious thrusts, and Nick felt Spencer come, wild-eyed and sweating, chest pumping empty, his cock moving inside him. Nick pulled his hands back and moved harder, faster, used one hand to get himself the rest of the way there, and came too.

Nick slumped over Spencer, catching himself on one shaking arm. “You weren’t . . .” He paused, catching his breath. “Supposed to come yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said quickly, still breathing hard himself. “I . . . I couldn’t . . .”

Nick silenced him with a lazy kiss. “Might have to punish you for that.”

Spencer whimpered softly. “I’m sorry.”

Nick lifted himself up and stroked Spencer’s hair. “I know. I’m not angry.”

“Good.” Spencer smiled, relaxing a little.

Nick kissed him again. “But I should still punish you. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“If that pleases you,” Spencer whispered, and Nick had to grin at the hint of wickedness in his sub’s tone. An unspoken
Bring it on
. Spencer genuinely disliked doing anything to displease Nick, and as long as he knew Nick forgave him, he happily took whatever punishment Nick dished out.

Nick rose off Spencer, then removed the spreader bar and the cuffs. They cleaned themselves up—Nick was tempted to suggest a shower together, but the one in this flat was prohibitively tiny—and returned to the futon.

Though there shouldn’t have been, there was plenty of room for the two of them on the small mattress. Nick had shared this bed with another boyfriend ages ago, and it had been crowded as hell. No elbow room, no knee room. And that boyfriend had been significantly shorter and narrower than Spencer. But he and Spencer just fit together. Arms around each other, legs loosely tangled up, Spencer’s head on Nick’s chest. They occupied as much space on this bed as they did on the giant one back at Spencer’s place, and Nick was perfectly comfortable like this.

“We were going to try out some toys, weren’t we?” he asked, absently stroking Spencer’s short hair.

“I think so,” Spencer said. “Some, um, devices?”

“Mm-hmm.” Nick dropped a light kiss on Spencer’s forehead. “And maybe, in light of you coming without permission, we’ll go with something a little more . . . severe.”

Spencer tensed slightly. “More severe than what?”

“More severe than me just telling you not to touch yourself,” Nick teased. He nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “I’ll get my bag. See what you’ll be wearing to the office on Tuesday.”

Spencer shuddered, but he obeyed and sat up.

Nick reached for his bag and dug for a number of options. He could discard three entirely—Spencer was simply too large for them, and they did need at least a bit of play when his dick tried to get hard.

He found one of his favourites—a stainless steel cage that would serve its purpose beautifully. He hadn’t used this one more than once or twice.

Spencer licked his lips when Nick pulled it out and lifted it up high enough for him to see. “That one should fit.” He reached for Spencer’s dick and pulled him closer by it. Spencer immediately complied. When Nick pushed the steel sleeve over his dick, Spencer tensed.

“C-cold.”

“It warms up quickly.” Nick pulled it in place, closed the securing ring around Spencer’s balls, and inspected it from all sides. There were holes at the tip, allowing Spencer to piss, but the cage held his cock at a severe curve down, making it impossible for him to get hard. Coming was out of the question. It was weightier than one in plastic, but he did prefer steel for this. It was just a more primal material, stronger, unyielding, and the fact that it didn’t splinter or scratch even with heavy use was another plus.

Spencer stared at him, as if about to bargain, but he didn’t.

“That works on you. It’s a good look.”

Spencer chuckled. “As long as I can wear it with a suit.”

“Oh, definitely. It’s a very good look under a suit.” Nick kept the cage in place with one hand, then kissed Spencer. “Considering I like your dick that much, nobody else can use it.”

Spencer swallowed. “No. It’s yours.”

God, fucking hell, this man was perfect.

This thing is going to drive me insane.

Nick snickered over the text from Spencer.
That’s the idea,
he wrote back. A second later, he added,
Have we learned anything from this experience?

He continued getting himself ready to go to the Garden. He was halfway through shaving when a text message pinged his phone again.

Don’t come until you tell me to.

Fast learner
. Nick set his phone aside and continued shaving. He hadn’t bothered over the last couple of days, so his skin was less than thrilled, but he’d live. Wasn’t like he got terribly scruffy after only one long weekend.

Once his face was smooth, he left the bathroom and dressed. As he put his foot up on his desk and laced up his boots, his leather trousers squeaked softly. His jacket rubbed against his skin, the surface still cool. He wore this or something similar to it every time he went to the Garden, but it felt . . . weird tonight. What the hell? He’d taken weeklong holidays more than once, and slipped right back into his black leather without a second thought. After three days, he shouldn’t have batted an eye.

He finished lacing his other boot and dropped his foot to the floor. Shaking his head, he picked up his keys and headed out. Maybe he just hadn’t rested enough. A weeklong holiday left him refreshed, if a little hungover. Considering he and Spencer had been at it until early this morning, that must have been it. Lack of sleep. Nothing ever fit quite right when the head was still tired and jumbled.

Which completely explained, of course, why, when he walked into Market Garden an hour or so later, he felt like he’d just arrived on an alien planet.

That was just bizarre. The back room and the lounge area were like second homes for Nick. He knew every crease in the back room’s hideous wallpaper, and he could practically recite the bar’s top-shelf booze by brand, in order, from left to right and back again. He knew the whores, the customers, the bouncers, and the bartenders. Even the women in the front lounge, and
their
customers, bouncers, and bartenders.

So why the hell did everything feel all wrong tonight?

Ah, look, Jared and Tristan being all cute and gothy, trying to pretend they were as interested in scoring tonight as getting into each other’s leather trousers. He gave a brief nod to the head bartender and took up his position near the bar. A Coke with a slice of lime materialised next to him. Raoul himself was on duty tonight.

“Good weekend?” Raoul seemed in one of his better moods.

Nick nodded. “What the doctor ordered. You?”

Raoul gave a noncommittal shrug. “Finally got the moving sorted. Commuting into London was a fucking pain in the arse.”

“Brighton, right?”

Raoul nodded. “City of yoga teachers and barkeeps. Much better up here for money.”

Yeah. Go where the bankers are. Half the service industry workers followed their prey much like sharks followed herrings . . . or whatever. Cod. City bankers were more like cod—grew fatter with age and no limit to size.

“What are you doing here on a Tuesday, anyway?”

“Need some extra cash.” Raoul flexed his biceps. “Getting another tattoo tomorrow.”

Needles—firmly something for
other people.
Even his piercings had been more a dare than a desperate need to see a needle pushed through his flesh. “Ah, that explains it.”

Not really, but Raoul was generally not to be messed with—all six five of him, built like a porn star on steroids. As far as leather daddies went, he was hot. Too bad that Nick didn’t think Raoul had one submissive bone in his body, and it would take a lot of chains to keep him tied down. He’d once amused himself with the image—a strictly academic pursuit, of course. He definitely didn’t fuck Market Garden staff.

The door opened behind him, and Nick glanced over his shoulder.

Not a potential client this time, though. Frank, the owner of Market Garden. Máximo Líder himself. Nick turned back and saw Raoul watch Frank closely, still and silent for a few moments before he shook his head and busied himself behind the bar. Nick suppressed a smile. Getting between these two was a bad idea. Frank was just as built and ripped as Raoul, though ten years older. Gentle giants, both of them, but Nick liked having them around in case a drunken john got out of control.

The door opened again, and this time, a gaggle of bankers spilled in. Three of them, young, moderately hot, and clearly with money burning holes in their pockets.

Nick sized them up one at a time, looking for the timid one in the bunch. There was always one. Sure, the loud, arrogant alpha could be the subbiest sub within a ten-mile radius, and the timid one could rival Nick for dominance and sadism. But Nick wasn’t in the mood to tangle with an alpha, and if the quiet one turned out to be a Dom, that would show through before too long.

The loud alpha made himself known in short order, smacking the bar with an open palm and barking an order for drinks while he waved his wallet around. The diamond in his ear was huge and gaudy. Easily the monetary equivalent to three or four rides on Nick’s cock.

Behind the alpha was the sleaze. Probably worked in sales, by the looks of him. He sized everyone up like Nick was sizing him up, but at least Nick had the decency to keep his assessments off his face. No wrinkled nose, no eye-rolling, no twist of the lips, and most
definitely
no phony, shit-eating grin when he saw something he liked.

Oh, don’t
even
look at me like that, Slick.
Nick arched his eyebrow as they held eye contact from across the room. Much to his satisfaction, the sleaze quickly looked away, shifting his attention to the drinks that were appearing in front of the money-waving alpha. He chanced another glance at Nick, and Nick smirked.
Think you can handle this?

Didn’t think so
.

One in every crowd.

Which left . . .

The third guy hung back in the shadows, eyes darting around the room. Probably his first time in a place like this. Most guys didn’t look quite so scared out of their minds if they’d been here before.

Sleazeball handed the timid guy two drinks, and made a sharp gesture towards the thinly crowded lounge. Timid Guy nodded, and started towards the booths and tables.

Well. Someone was accustomed to being told what to do.

Nick waited until the guy had found a seat at a booth, and then he made his move. He slid in next to the guy, who willingly moved in further without a hint of protest. He even quickly scooted his drink along. Only then did he really look at Nick, and Nick raised an eyebrow in invitation.

The guy lifted a hand off the table. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Nick fixed him with a long stare. “First time here?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess it shows.”

Just a little
. “Love that tie.” Nick reached over, bored already, and he didn’t even know why. Too easy. Too timid. Maybe not even his type. But no. He’d fucked dozens of this type. They were uncomplicated. Easy money. Not too hard on the eyes. Usually easy enough to blow their minds, take their cash, and walk before midnight. He took the tie, pretending he was feeling the fabric, but grabbed it high up, pulling the man a bit forward. No protest. That pretty much sealed it.