If It Fornicates (A Market Garden Tale) (10 page)

Spencer swallowed. “Do I . . .?”

“Yes.” Nick stroked his cheek. “You have a choice. It wasn’t a trick question.”

Spencer held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “I would, yes.”

Nick smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. It could be fun.” He reached for the massage oil Spencer had been using, and put some in his own hand. “I think it could also be fun for you to fuck me.”

Spencer inhaled sharply, back arching a little.

“I know you’d like that.” Nick set the bottle aside, and then reached for Spencer’s cock, which was now fully erect. He watched Spencer’s face as he slowly wrapped his slippery fingers around the man’s cock, and smiled as Spencer closed his eyes and bit his lip. Teasingly, he slid his hand from the base to the tip, then twisted just a little before sliding back down.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Spencer licked his lips, but didn’t open his eyes. “I can’t think . . . about anything. Except . . .” He groaned and lifted his hips a little, forcing his cock through Nick’s tight fist.

“I want you to think about it,” Nick whispered. “Focus, Spencer. I know you can.”

His sub squirmed, bit his lip again, and the frustrated little noise he let slip made Nick shiver.

“Are you thinking about it?” he asked, drawing his hand up the length of Spencer’s dick. “Are you thinking about what it would be like to fuck me?”

Spencer nodded.

“I asked you a question.”

“
Yes.
I am.”

“Good.” Nick slowed his hand, but held on tighter. “And you like it? The way it plays out in your mind?”

“Very much.”

“How do you picture it?” Nick cleared his throat. “What position?”

Spencer sucked in a breath. “I . . . like this. You on . . . you on top of me.”

Nick bit his own lip to mask the gasp. God, this man was a sub right to the bone, wasn’t he? “With your hands bound?”

Spencer nodded. “Maybe even . . . maybe even ankles.”

It never ceased to amaze Nick how much Spencer could turn him on. “You know, it’s been a while.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, though his eyes were still closed. “What?”

“Since anyone has fucked me.”

“Oh.” Spencer squirmed, the handcuff chain rattling against the bedframe. “How long?”

“Long enough.” Nick took his time sliding his hand all the way up to the head of Spencer’s cock. Then he gripped even tighter, though of course not too painfully, and just before he started the downstroke, whispered, “Long enough to be very, very tight.”

“Oh
God
.” Spencer’s eyes flew open as Nick started downward with a tight fist. He arched and squirmed. “Fuck . . .”

“That’s the idea, yes,” Nick said and winked. “And I’ve never taken a man your size before.”

Spencer closed his eyes and whimpered. He thrust upward into Nick’s hand, his cock stiffening.

“You’re not allowed to come yet, you know.”

Spencer released another whimper, one that almost sounded like profanity, and shut his eyes tighter. His hands closed into fists. Opened. Closed again.

Nick stroked him faster. “You won’t be able to come when you fuck me, either. Not until I say so.”

Spencer opened his eyes, but stared up at the ceiling, mouthing something Nick didn’t understand.

“You wouldn’t come, would you?” Nick asked.

Spencer shook his head. “No. Not . . . not until . . . oh,
fuck
. . .”

Nick picked up more speed. “Not until what, Spencer?”

“Until you said so,” Spencer blurted out. “I wouldn’t come. Not until you said so.”

“Good.” Nick pumped faster. “I’m going to let you come very soon.”

Spencer whimpered again, thrusting into Nick’s hand.

“Not yet, though. Not quite yet.”

“Fuck . . .”

Nick laughed softly, making sure it sounded as sadistic and maniacal as possible. Spencer made more frustrated sounds, and squirmed, and rattled the cuffs against the bedframe.

“Listen to me, Spencer,” Nick said, lowering his voice so Spencer would have to strain to hear him. “In a minute, I’m going to let you come. And after you’ve come, I’m going to release your hands.”

“Okay,” Spencer breathed.

“And once I’ve done that,” Nick said, stroking fast and hard now just to fuck with Spencer’s concentration, “you’re going to get on your knees on the floor and suck me off.”

“Yes, please,” Spencer whispered, his voice shaking like he was on the verge of tears. “Please, Nick . . .”

“I’m going to count backwards. From five.” He added a subtle twist to his movements, gritting his teeth as fatigue started to burn its way into his forearm. “When I reach one, you can come. Understood?”

Spencer nodded. “Understood.”

Nick let the silence linger. He kept stroking, but didn’t say anything. Didn’t start the countdown.

Sweat beaded on Spencer’s forehead, and a few drops slid down his temples and his neck. The cords stood out from his throat, and his lips were pulled tight across his teeth. His abs shook, and his arms strained against their cuffs, and Nick was sure he was holding his breath.

Then Nick leaned a little closer to him and whispered, “Five.”

A little tension released, but that was just Spencer thinking he was on safe ground. Nick wished he’d put something up Spencer’s arse, a vibrating egg or something, to torture him more thoroughly, coordinate the stimulation of his cock and his prostate, but that would have to wait. First real attempt at orgasm denial, and Spencer was falling into it beautifully, obeying the rules, deeply susceptible to the orders and his own need. The man would rather explode than come unless ordered.

Nick kept Spencer on the edge right there, pumped, but didn’t tease the head—letting Spencer think he’d discovered a merciful bone in his body. “Four.”

Spencer swallowed and nodded, lips forming that word like an echo. “Four.”

Nick bent down over Spencer’s cock, then ran his tongue along the head. Spencer made a sound somewhere between a shout and an agonized protest. Nick bared his teeth. “What was that? Not happy?”

“Oh God, Nick. You’re . . . you’re . . .”

Nick did it again, just to drive home the point. Spencer’s leg muscle tensed. The man was
this
close to losing it. Excellent.

“I’m . . .?” He whispered against the wet cockhead, breath brushing over it.

“You’re . . . killing me.”

“Three,” Nick responded and continued stroking, tight oiled fist now brushing over the cock head, squeezing, which made Spencer tense head to toe, very nearly lifting him off the mattress. There was just enough pain in the touch to help Spencer regain a little control; a small mercy before Spencer did have a heart attack in bed. Of course, it knitted the pain and pleasure closer together in Spencer’s brain, too. “You with me, Spencer?”

“Yes. Never . . . never gone.”

Flying high. Spencer was happy in his subspace—second nature for the guy. The door was always wide open, and Spencer stepped through with an ease and a grace that was mind-blowing all of its own.

“Two.”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath. His fists were tight now, the chain between the cuffs pulled taut, and Nick swore the air itself thrummed with the tension radiating from every muscle in Spencer’s body. He was waiting, waiting, anticipating, no doubt knowing that final word, that last number, was as far off as Nick wanted it to be, and he might be hanging like this all damned night if Nick wanted him to.

“One.”

Spencer came. Instantly. Like that single word had been the knife waiting to cut the tightly drawn rope, and now it had snapped, and his whole body lifted off the bed as jets of semen dotted the dark skin across his abs and chest.

As soon as Spencer started to settle back onto the bed—and likely back into the present—Nick slowed his hand to a smooth stop. He released Spencer’s dick, and Spencer sighed. All the tension was gone now, every muscle trembling with the aftermath.

Nick grabbed some tissues from the bedside table and cleaned off his hand. Then he took a few more and wiped the semen off Spencer’s skin. About that time, Spencer blinked a few times, and then looked at Nick.

Nick discarded the tissues and reached for the handcuffs. “You remember what to do next, don’t you, Spencer?”

“Yes. Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” Nick released one of Spencer’s wrists, and the cuffs rattled as Spencer brought his arms back down. Spencer started to sit up, but Nick stopped him. “Not yet. I still have to take off the other cuff.”

Spencer looked at his wrist, bewildered, like he didn’t even realize the metal bracelet was still attached.

Nick took his hand. “You did very well.” He trailed his other hand from Spencer’s elbow down his forearm, inching towards the cuff. “You’re so obedient, Spencer.”

Spencer shifted a little. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
.” Still holding onto Spencer’s hand and lightly touching his forearm, Nick leaned in and kissed Spencer. He kept teasing Spencer’s arm with feather-light touches as he gently urged Spencer’s lips apart with his tongue. Nick was painfully hard now, anticipating the eager, enthusiastic blowjob that was only a command away, but he hid it from Spencer and just made out with him lazily, gently.

He searched blindly for the cuff, and found it. Then the quick release. All he had to do was flick that switch, that tiny sliver of metal pressing into the pad of his thumb, and the cuff would come off, and then Spencer would be on his knees and sucking Nick’s cock.

One motion. One command. And he knew Spencer was hyperaware of that too. Poised and ready to drop to his knees the instant he was both commanded and allowed. The kiss they shared intensified with each passing second, Nick’s pulse rising and his hand barely staying steady on the quick release switch as he and Spencer kissed, and he wasn’t sure how he was just as out of breath as Spencer now, but he was.

He pressed the switch.

The cuff loosened around Spencer’s wrist.

A less obedient sub would’ve shaken off the cuff and dropped to the floor in an instant.

Spencer didn’t move. When Nick broke the kiss, Spencer shuddered and whispered, “Please?”

Nick kissed him once more. Then, “On your knees.”

The speed with which Spencer went from sitting on the bed to kneeling on the floor almost made Nick come. As Spencer knelt and waited, Nick swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and lowered himself onto his feet. And still, Spencer didn’t move. He knew the command, knew what Nick wanted him to do, but he hadn’t been given permission yet.

Nick touched Spencer’s face. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Sweating, out of breath, both shaking a little, they held each other’s gazes.

Promise me you’ll think about doing something, giving
something
up so you can be happy.

Spencer’s eyes were wide, a little wet from the intensity of everything they’d just done, and Nick swore they said,
If you give something up, please don’t let it be me
.

Nick drew his hand back, gave the slightest nod, and Spencer didn’t hesitate—he opened his lips and took Nick’s cock as far as he could manage. Even more—and this part was oddly touching—he didn’t use his hands, kept his wrists crossed on his back. Like Nick had taught him on a different occasion, and the fact that he remembered thrilled Nick as much as the wetness and heat of Spencer’s mouth.

He placed a hand on Spencer’s head, kept his gaze steady on his face; Spencer’s expression was blank and focused, every slide along Nick’s cock worshipful and loving. Spencer loved doing this, loved doing it for
him
, and Nick held tight onto his own control to enjoy this just for a little longer. Tongue, suction, the gorgeous man on his knees, utterly focused not on multimillion-pound deals and contracts, but on sucking Nick’s cock. He looked blissfully happy.

Nick gritted his teeth at a clever slide of Spencer’s tongue over the head of his dick, his own control brittle now. He didn’t like denying himself any more than anybody else would, though he sometimes let it deliberately build.

He urged Spencer’s head forward, and was rewarded with Spencer swallowing him all the way down. The workings of his muscles against the invasion did it. Two, three, four deep strokes right down Spencer’s throat, and orgasm hit him. He pulled back, though it cost him, and managed to come against Spencer’s face and neck rather than down his throat. Spencer looked up at him as Nick pumped his own cock, milking himself through the orgasm and painting Spencer’s skin.

“I want . . . to feel you inside me next . . . next time,” Spencer said, gently, softly, a polite request rather than bargaining.

Nick nodded, breathless, teeth gritted. He touched Spencer’s face, traced a drop of his own semen down towards the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “Can’t wait.”

Spencer smiled at him, making no movement to clean himself. Nick reached for one of the towels, used the corner of it to wipe his semen off Spencer’s skin, then put the towel down.

“Thank you,” Spencer said.

Nick bent down and kissed him again. “Come up into the bed.”

Spencer rose on legs that weren’t quite steady and did as he was told. Nick joined him. Nick wrapped his arm around Spencer’s shoulders, and Spencer rested his head on Nick’s chest.

The night didn’t feel like it was over yet. There was some conversation or . . . or something that still needed to happen. Something that needed to be said or done. But the smouldering afterglow didn’t invite much in the way of conversation; lying together like this in warm, blissful silence was the only thing they could do now. It was the only thing Nick wanted to do. Cuddling used to make him stir crazy. It bored him, just lying there and doing nothing.

But he wasn’t bored now. And whatever needed to be said would still be there in the morning.