If It Drives (A Market Garden Tale)

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “What do you think?” Nick asked.

  “About?”

  “Spencer?”

  “Oh.” Cal looked up as Spencer balanced two mugs of tea, put one down in front of Nick first, then Cal, then left to get a third mug. “You fit really well together.”

  “He’s my sub, too.”

  Cal watched Spencer bring in the third mug. On the outside, nothing hinted at Nick’s dominance over Spencer, but then, what would it look like? He had no idea.

  “Okay. He’s clearly happy. Both of you seem to be.”

  “I am,” Nick said. “Spencer, are you happy?”

  “Yes, I am.” Spencer settled on the couch near Nick. To Cal, he said, “I enjoy submitting to him. I find it very relaxing.”

  Relaxing? Okay. But then, James relaxed too during sex when Cal gave him orders. He stopped thinking and questioning and just did. With all the stuff that he had to deal with at work, maybe that was it. Relaxing. Wiping away everything else. Focusing.

  “How . . . how did you turn into a Dom?”

  “I’m a sexual sadist. Born that way, I’m afraid, chains and all.” Nick chuckled. “Bad brain chemistry, something wrong during pregnancy, maybe I’m one step away from being a psychopath. As long as I don’t do anything outside of consent—even though I’d be perfectly capable of it—I’m good.”

  Cal wasn’t sure how to take that, but when Spencer laughed quietly behind his mug and rolled his eyes—clearly amused and not a little surprised—he decided it was just Nick’s dry and slightly warped sense of humour.

  “Oh. I see.”

  Nick grinned. “You asked. Spencer is a masochist. He really enjoys pain. He’s also a sub, which is lucky. We do fit perfectly together. He was a client first, then I quit the Garden and here we are, stronger than ever.”

  Smiling, Spencer placed a hand on Nick’s back.

  Cal sipped his tea. “All right. I’m . . . just a top? I like power, but I don’t get off on pain? I don’t think?” Do I?

  “Well, a Dom. Not necessarily a top. There is a difference.” Nick shrugged, cradling his tea in one hand and resting the other on Spencer’s leg. “And as for pain, have you ever tried it?”

  “Tried . . . inflicting it?”

  Nick nodded. Cal wasn’t sure, but he thought Spencer shivered.

  “I haven’t.” Cal shook his head. “I’ve never tried it.”

  “Not even a slap on the arse?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Pulling hair? Anything?”

  This time, Spencer definitely shivered.

  Cal set his tea on the coffee table. “I guess I’ve done stuff like that. A little.” His mind wandered back to this morning, to the way his concern about hurting James had quickly and easily shifted to wanting to give him more, fuck him harder, fuck him deeper, knowing it hurt and wanting it to hurt. “Maybe more than I’ve realised.” What to think about that? He had no idea.

  Nick grinned, a hint of triumph in his expression, as if he’d seen right through to Cal’s slightly sadistic core. “That’s what I thought. So you enjoy making him hurt.”

  “If he’s enjoying it, yes.”

  “Of course.” Nick looked up at Spencer, the grin turning to a smile. “It’s only fun if he’s enjoying it.”

  Spencer returned the smile, and then leaned in to kiss Nick softly on the lips. God, those two were an adorable couple. It was strange to think of them in that way, since they were a sadist and a masochist; the word just didn’t seem to fit. But there they were.

  Nick faced Cal again, absently running his hand up and down Spencer’s leg. “You’ve got the makings of a Dom and a sadist.”

  Cal straightened. “A sadist?”

  “Of course.” Nick shrugged. “You get off on making someone hurt.”

  “Well, I . . .” Cal struggled to get his thoughts in order. “If that’s what he wants me to do, yes.”

  Nick held his gaze for a moment, brow furrowed with some unspoken thought. Finally, he said, “To be honest, it sounds to me like you’re actually a service top.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “A service top.” Nick casually sipped his tea and set the cup back down. “You get off on doing what your partner needs you to do. A submissive brings out your Dom side. A masochist brings out your sadistic side.” He shrugged again. “Some people are like that.”

  “I’m assuming you’re not.”

  Spencer gave a quiet laugh, and Nick chuckled as he shook his head. “No, I’m a Dom and a sadist no matter what. But you might be the type who’s perfectly happy not being in charge and not inflicting pain if your partner isn’t the type who wants to be topped and hurt.”

  “Interesting.”

  “As is anything kinky.” Nick sipped his tea again. “Anyway, I can certainly teach you a thing or two. Hone your technique so you can give your boss what he needs.” He turned to Spencer again. “Would you be opposed to helping me?”

  “In what way?” Spencer asked.

  “Let him top you under my supervision.”

  Spencer glanced at Cal, then shrugged. “Sure. Yeah.” He paused. “How far does this go? I’m not sure I’m ready to let another man fuck me yet.” Another pause. “Uh, no offence.”

  “None taken,” Cal said.

  Nick patted Spencer’s leg. “Of course not. Anything you’re not comfortable with is out.” His eyes flicked towards Cal. “That goes for you too.”

  “Good. Sounds good.” Cal picked up his tea again and took a sip, wondering when his mouth had gone dry.

  “Then let’s get started.”

  Cal choked on his tea, very nearly sputtering it onto the very expensive-looking coffee table. Spencer smothered a laugh. Nick just smirked. Cocky bastard.

  Once he’d recovered, Cal said, “Get started? Like, right now?”

  Nick shrugged. “Why not? We’re already here.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “All my toys are here.” Gaze sliding towards Spencer, he grinned broadly and added, “All of my toys.”

  Spencer met his eyes, and Jesus, the way they looked at each other, Cal figured they’d be off to the bedroom soon anyway, whether he tagged along or not.

  “Hell.” He set his mug down again. “Why not?”

  Nick made no move to get up. “Lesson number one: the Dominant is in charge, and he gives the orders. For example, our mugs.” He gestured at the three mugs sitting on the table. “I think Spencer ought to pick these up and rinse them, don’t you?” He dipped his chin slightly, the lift of his eyebrow prompting Cal.

  “Um. Okay.” Cal cleared his throat and looked at Spencer. “Take these into the kitchen and rinse them out.”

  Spencer didn’t move.

  No one did.

  Cal shifted a little. “Did I, um . . .”

  Nick smiled. “Lesson number two: the only sub who obeys you is the one you’ve earned the right to command, one who’s agreed to submit to you, or one whose Dom has given him permission to take orders from you.” He turned his head. “Go ahead.”

  Without missing a beat, Spencer got up, collected the three mugs, and headed into the kitchen.

  Cal’s eyes followed Spencer, and he smiled at the thought that James might do the same. He couldn’t really see it, though the idea was attractive. Normally it was Cal who followed orders, and he didn’t mind. It was his job, after all. Turning things on their head like this—especially with James—would mean entering completely unchartered waters.

  “Can you tell me about James? That’s . . . his actual name.” Not Red Tie, though it fit. James was very fond of his alpha-male trappings.

  Nick relaxed against the couch, folded his hands on his flat stomach and regarded Cal with half-closed eyes. “That’s pointless at this stage. We’ll concentrate on you first.”

  “Because . . .”

  “It’s moot unless you have it in you. If you don’t get the same enjoyment out of playing, I’d suggest you let him go. Or stay vanilla with him and get used to the idea that he’ll get what he need
s elsewhere, likely for cash.”

  Cal examined those options in his head, but none seemed attractive. What he was doing now worked, but it hadn’t really clicked yet. And continuing on with a scenario where James got the pain from some uncaring whore . . . though, granted, Nick didn’t seem uncaring so much as somewhat blasé. Very much a Been There, Done It, and Got the Whip Coordination to Prove It kind of vibe.

  “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “I think we’ll also have to talk about money. I’m not expecting to get taught for free.”

  Nick smiled. “I’m guessing you’re not on the same salary as your boss.”

  Cal laughed and shook his head. “Not really. I can get you cut-rate limo services, but that’s pretty much all I’d have to barter.”

  “But it’s important to you.”

  “Very.” Cal shrugged. “Credit rating is clean. I can take on some debt if need be.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “No, no. I don’t want you going into debt over this. I saw too many guys do that at the Garden and wind up in financial trouble.”

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  “Tell you what. First one’s free, then, but I’ll charge you for the next ones, if you do come back.”

  “All right. I can work with that.”

  “Good.” Nick paused. “I haven’t taught another Dom myself. It’s something of an experiment here, too. But it’ll be a couple grand if we go through with it.”

  “Okay.” A couple grand, he could swing that. His bank kept offering him credit, and so far he really hadn’t needed it, and his living expenses were low. “Good with me.”

  “Excellent.” Nick sat up. “Let’s take it to the bedroom. Much better sound insulation there.”

  As Cal pulled the car up in front of the house, he wondered for the millionth time how he’d be able to look James in the eye today. Last night’s “lesson” had left his head spinning. And he had one week before he saw Nick and Spencer again, which meant one week to finish his “homework assignment” to Nick’s satisfaction.

  What the hell am I getting myself into?

  Squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, he glanced at his own reflection in the rearview. One week. Which meant he could use today to get used to being the man James paid him to be again. Get used to being the consummate professional he’d been for the last year and a half. And then throw that professionalism out the window all over again sometime between now and the weekend, when he’d try out his sea legs, as Nick had called them, and see if he really had what it took to, quote, top the fuck out of James, unquote. Nick certainly did have a way with words.

  Cal grabbed his cap off the seat and stepped out of the car. He pulled on the cap, fussed with it for a moment, and then stood beside the door to wait for James to come outside.

  The front door opened, and Cal held his breath. James was walking quickly today, briefcase tucked under his arm and folders full of papers in his hands. He was reading as he walked, brow furrowed and lips taut, looking every inch the kind of man who took shit from nobody and sure as fuck wouldn’t . . . how had Nick worded it? Kiss your boot and thank you for the privilege?

  Cal gulped. He was thankful for James’s distraction; if his nerves were showing as badly as he thought they were, he didn’t want to have to explain them.

  “Good morning, sir.” He opened the door and stood aside.

  “Morning, Callum,” James muttered. “To Threadneedle Street, please.” He didn’t even look up before he slid into the car.

  Cal threw him a scowl. No eye contact? Not even a glance or a smile? Now that warranted a bright red handprint on his arse if anything did.

  That thought made him chuckle, and he shut the door before James could notice. Not that he would. Whatever he was working on obviously had his full attention.

  Cal went back to the driver’s seat. He pulled down the driveway and headed into the city. All the while, he wondered how Nick would have responded to James barely saying a word. Probably with that bright red handprint. And wouldn’t that be part of the challenge? To keep those two things separate. He couldn’t spring that Dom thing on James when he was working in the back of the car.

  Or could he?

  Cal glanced back at James leafing through his paperwork with a fiercely concentrated expression on his face.

  The money he’s making while you drive him to work more than pays for your service or the car.

  Did you interrupt a finance guy while he was making money? Or was that like some kind of abstract cock-blocking?

  You’re in charge. Nick again. You’re the boss. That’s what he needs.

  “I was thinking.” Cal kept most of his attention on the street, but glanced back again.

  Not much of a response from James. “Hmm-mh?”

  Relax. Pretend to be completely chilled. You have nothing to lose. He does the losing.

  I can always lose my job, Cal thought, but psyched himself up. Relax. Breathe a couple times.

  “I like seeing you on your knees,” he said as calmly as if he were commenting on the colour of James’s tie.

  “You . . .” James looked up, and Cal met his wide eyes briefly in the rearview. “Beg your pardon?”

  First unbalance. Then strike. With your guy, it’s like war. Don’t let him regain his footing.

  “I’d like that. You begging, sir.” Cal suppressed a grin. The bored tone was working. Hell yes.

  James cleared his throat. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  He glanced in the mirror, and James blinked a couple of times. Refocusing on the road, Cal struggled to keep a straight face, schooling his expression to one of complete indifference the way Nick had so effortlessly done.

  Papers rustled quietly. Then leather creaked. When he glanced in the rearview again, James had moved to the seat closest to the privacy screen.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered as if someone might overhear them.

  “What’s going on is I enjoyed seeing you on your knees. I enjoyed hearing you beg.” Cal’s eyes flicked towards James’s in the rearview. “And I’d like to see and hear those things again.”

  “Oh. I . . .” James’s cheeks were a little flushed. His brow was furrowed again, but it wasn’t so he could concentrate on his financial documents or whatever. Cal suspected those papers were still on the other seat, and long forgotten. James cleared his throat. “Uh, what brought that up? Right now, I mean?”

  “Does that matter?”

  The creaking leather told him James was fidgeting on the seat. “I suppose not.”

  Cal let the silence linger for a good minute or so. Then, as he casually turned the long car around a tight corner, said, “We’re going to be early for your meeting. By about twenty minutes.”

  “Oh. Good. Good.” James exhaled, apparently relieved to be back on professional ground.

  “So we’re going to make a small detour.”

  “We . . . what?” He leaned closer to the open privacy window. “Callum, these games are fine and good, but I have to be at that meeting on time. This is important. I can’t be late.”

  “You won’t be late.” Cal paused. “Provided you do as you’re told.”

  James’s breath caught. “Do as . . . as I’m . . .”

  “I know you can hear me.” Cal could barely keep from grinning. “The more you make me repeat myself, the more time we’re wasting.”

  No response.

  He reached down and adjusted the air conditioning, just to do something completely casual and normal. If Nick’s calculations were correct, that would epically fuck with James’s head.

  Sure enough, more squeaking leather. When Cal glanced in the rearview again, James was tugging at the immaculate knot in his tie.

  “There’s a side street a few blocks from your meeting,” Cal announced. “It usually has plenty of parking at this time of day, even for a car this size.” He let himself grin this time. “And there’s usually no one around.”

  �
�Is that . . . uh, is that right?”

  “It is.” Cal put on the car’s turn signal. “So if you want to make it to your meeting on time, I would suggest you work quickly.”

  “Work . . .” James cleared his throat again. “Callum, what are you doing?”

  “I’ll break it down for you.” Cal steered the car down the side street. “I love watching you on your knees. I love hearing you beg.” He eased the car to a stop beside the kerb and shifted into park. “And to be perfectly honest, I don’t feel like waiting until your meeting is over.”

  He killed the engine, and was rewarded with a nervous gulp from James.

  Cal turned around and met his eyes, this time without the aid of the mirror. “If I come back there, am I going to be satisfied when I come out?”

  James swallowed hard and tugged at his tie again. “I . . .”

  “Simple question, James.” Cal narrowed his eyes a little. “We don’t have much time, and I’m sure as hell not going to beg.”

  “Y-you should come back here, then.”

  Holy fuck, is this really working?

  “Should I?” Cal arched an eyebrow. “Are you telling me to come back there?”

  “Cal, please,” James whispered, lowering his gaze. “C-come back here. Please.”

  Cal turned and pointed at the legroom.

  James looked flustered but slid off the seat and knelt in his own damn limo.

  Cal got out and opened James’s door. He made a show of settling in and pulling it shut, then opened his legs and leaned back in the seat.

  James’s eyes were glued to Cal’s groin, and that attention ramped up Cal’s arousal, which had started out somewhat dampened by nerves, but now that he paid it attention, he was almost taken aback at how strong it was and how fast he’d fully hardened.

  He’d been similarly surprised when he’d watched Spencer submit to Nick, with him as proxy. Anxiety normally killed his erection, but he was looking forward to playing all this by ear, as Nick would have phrased it. Just relax and go by instinct, and those instincts wouldn’t have to battle at all against that other set of instincts.

  “So, James.” He ran his fingers through James’s expensive haircut.