If It Drives (A Market Garden Tale)

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “Being with . . .?” Cal raised his eyebrows.

  James swallowed hard. “You.”

  Goose bumps prickled their way down Cal’s spine. “You didn’t mind me telling you what to do.” He left off the lilt at the end so there was no mistaking the statement for a question.

  James nodded.

  “Answer me.”

  “No,” James said quickly, his posture stiffening as if the sharp command had startled him. “No, I didn’t mind at all.”

  Cal smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He let his gaze drift downwards, drinking in every inch of James, noting that his necktie was looser now. He imagined him tugging at it in the lift, or at the shop while he’d searched for the supplies Cal had demanded. As his gaze slid lower, Cal took in the way James’s chest rose and fell a little more rapidly than usual; he wasn’t out of breath per se, but breathing harder than normal. And just below that expensive leather belt, his trousers tented with a growing erection.

  James shifted a bit, his fingers curling at his sides and his cheeks colouring again. Cal imagined he was struggling not to adjust himself or otherwise hide his hard-on.

  Cal beckoned to him. Gulping, James took a step forwards. Then another. Now they were only a foot apart, if that, and Cal felt as nervous as James looked. He forced himself not to let it show.

  “We have a hotel room,” he whispered, and just as he’d hoped, James leaned in a little to hear him better. “We have condoms and lube. Tell me, James. Why are we here?”

  Before James could answer, Cal reached across the narrow divide and cupped James’s cock through his trousers.

  James’s lips parted and he closed his eyes. “Shit . . .”

  “Look at me.”

  No response.

  “Look at me.”

  James’s eyes flew open, and though he seemed to be struggling, he obeyed.

  “I asked you a question, James.” Cal ran his thumb along the outline of the man’s dick. “Why are we here?”

  James licked his lips. “Because I wanted . . . I . . .” He shuddered as Cal’s thumb slid over the head of his cock. “Oh my God.”

  “You wanted what?” Cal squeezed him through his trousers. “Answer me before I decide I want to go back to the house and—”

  “Because I hoped you wanted more.” The words spilled out of James so quickly they were almost impossible to make out. His eyes widened. Slower now, he said, “I hoped . . . after this morning, I hoped you wanted more.”

  Cal couldn’t keep himself from shivering. With his other hand, he reached for James’s neck, and he drew him down until their lips were nearly touching. “Oh, you’re right. I do want more.” James’s wide-eyed stare was all rabbit-in-the-headlights, their customary power dynamic completely reversed. Cal seemed to be the center of James’s perception, his attention, his world right now, which gave Cal a kick that fanned his own desire. Being wanted like that was heady stuff. Reducing James to stammering need—hot.

  Their lips brushed, and James jolted as if he’d been touched with a live wire. Before James had a shot at thinking he was back on firm ground, Cal squeezed his cock painfully hard. James cringed, but didn’t break the kiss.

  He’d seen Spencer cringe like that and still make no attempt to protect himself—like his body and mind had lost one vital connection, until Spencer had leaned into it with everything he was—all critical facilities seemingly switched off. Subspace? Nick had talked about how subs went to that special place in their heads, so maybe that was it. If James wasn’t there—he couldn’t be yet, could he?—then Cal thought he could get him there. Though he still wasn’t sure if he was out of his depth.

  He’d play that part by ear. “Get naked. Now.” His voice was low and sharp, and it denied James the kiss he was looking for. Just another brush of lips, no true connection, not yet, though Cal hungered for it himself. Frustration, though. Frustration was a good thing.

  James seemed undecided, so it was Cal who stepped back, which in turn seemed to release James from the spell he was under. James took a moment to recover, then remembered what he’d been ordered to do, and began to strip. Cal didn’t remove a thread. Relative position in the room, state of undress, height, tone—all ingredients to power. He’d been aware of it in a rational way, but when it became part of sex, no rationality survived. Everything became something of a science, or an art form.

  Yeah, right, I could major in Domination Sciences. That’ll go down well with the world of academia.

  James put the last of his clothes over a chair a couple feet away from him. Then he faced Cal, the down-up flick of his gaze and the renewed colour in his cheeks suggesting he was as acutely aware of his nudity—and Cal’s lack thereof—as Cal was.

  Cal glanced at James’s fully erect cock, then met his eyes and grinned. James returned the grin, the expression somewhere between shy and aroused.

  “Touch yourself.” Cal nodded emphatically towards James’s hard-on. “But don’t come.”

  James hesitated. He closed his eyes for a second, lips tightening into a bleached line, but before Cal could warn him against disobeying, James wrapped his hand around his cock. From the first stroke, his brow furrowed. He bit his lip, and his breathing slowed, as if he were trying to control himself.

  “A little faster,” Cal taunted.

  James released a strangled sound, but he obeyed, stroking just a little faster.

  Watching James’s forearm, Cal decided those toned muscles could be rippling a bit more. “Harder.”

  James pressed his lips together but obeyed, and Cal’s blood pumped faster as exertion brought out even more definition in James’s arm. He stepped towards him, not being subtle at all about watching James’s hand. “Tell me what you were thinking about during your meeting today.”

  “My—” James’s hand faltered. “My meeting?”

  Cal walked past him, sliding his fingertips across James’s abs and licking his lips when the muscles contracted beneath his touch. “Or are you going to tell me it was all business?”

  “It was . . .” James exhaled hard. He glanced down as if he needed the visual reminder of what his hand was supposed to be doing. “It was difficult to concentrate.”

  “Is that right?” Cal watched his own fingers trail down James’s arm, the soft touch making the muscles twitch and screwing up James’s rhythm. “Why was that, James?”

  “Kept thinking. About . . . about you. This.”

  “This?” Cal ran the backs of his fingers down James’s forearm. “Were you fantasising about what we’d do when we got here?”

  Eyes shut tight, James nodded. “Y-yes.”

  “Tell me.” He took his hand off James’s skin, which seemed to jar him and mess up his rhythm again. “What did you think we’d do when we got here?”

  James shook his head. “Dunno. I just wanted . . . it to feel like it did in the car.”

  “Did you want to suck me off again?”

  James was quiet for a moment. He opened his eyes, again glancing down at his hand on his cock. “If . . . if that’s what you wanted.”

  The words pushed the breath out of Cal’s lungs. God, James really did want this, didn’t he? The orders, the domination. Nerves tingled at the base of Cal’s spine, and an uneasy feeling fluttered in his chest; was he cut out to do this for James? To be exactly what he needed?

  He banished the thought. Of course he was. Otherwise James’s admission wouldn’t have sent that little thrill through him at the same time.

  “I think I want you to fuck me.”

  James’s head snapped up and his hand stopped abruptly. “What?”

  Cal arched an eyebrow. He glanced at James’s hand.

  Quickly, James started stroking himself again, groaning with frustration.

  “You heard me.” Cal stepped behind James. He wrapped his arm around his waist and let his other hand slide down the arm that was furiously working at obeying Cal’s undoubtedly aggravating command. With his hand on James’s wrist, th
e rhythm of James’s strokes reverberating through his own arm, Cal whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”

  James whimpered softly.

  Cal kissed the back of his shoulder. “I want you to put on one of those condoms I sent you out to buy. I want you to lube it up.” He raised his chin so his lips almost touched James’s ear. “And I want you to fuck me, James.”

  James shuddered so violently, Cal thought he might have come, but his hand kept moving.

  Cal squeezed his wrist. “Stop.”

  James obeyed immediately.

  “Just because you’re fucking me, though,” Cal murmured in James’s ear. “Make no mistake: I am in charge. Understood?”

  James nodded.

  “Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  Cal lifted his hands to his shirt, then thought better of it. Damn, decades of habits didn’t die easily. He stood at ease, then lifted his arms halfway. “Undress me. Show me what it means to you.”

  What it means to you? Holy shit, that was pretty damn good.

  James gave a small needy sound, which meant he shared the sentiment.

  Not missing Nick now, are you?

  But the pang of jealousy changed to a secret pleasure in the conspiracy with Nick in a mere moment. Nick wasn’t the enemy. Nick was the best fucking ally he’d ever had. He’d delivered James to him on a silver platter—the guy who’d just knelt down to untie Cal’s shoelaces with a focus and attention that was out of proportion for the simple act and yet was doing exactly what Cal had ordered.

  Show me what it means to you.

  Cal allowed James to carefully lift his leg and slip the shoe off one foot, then the other. Socks, too, James’s fingers all gentle, not rushing, yet working efficiently. Cal reached down to touch James’s head, so tempted to cut this short or at least adjust himself, but he had to be in control—for James, for himself—because otherwise he would beg for it, and that was not the plan tonight.

  James stood again, and Cal tried not to notice that removing his shoes had also diminished his height. He didn’t need to be as tall as James to dominate him. Another lesson he’d learned from Nick and Spencer.

  Raising his chin slightly, he watched James’s eyes, but James wasn’t looking at him. He focused intently on unbuttoning Cal’s shirt, his fingers moving quickly but carefully. The stark naked businessman obediently undressing his chauffeur; could this evening get any more surreal?

  When James reached the last button above Cal’s waistband, he unbuckled Cal’s belt. He carefully slid it free and set it aside, arranging each piece of Cal’s clothing in a much neater pile than he had his own.

  The room was comfortably warm, but the air was cool against the skin James exposed with each obedient motion. Tugging Cal’s shirt free from his waistband. Pushing it over his shoulders. Carefully unbuttoning the cuffs before sliding them over Cal’s hands.

  All the while, Cal couldn’t take his eyes off James’s mouth. He loved everything that man’s mouth was capable of, from kissing him to sucking him off, and as he stood still while James slowly undressed him, he wondered what else his mouth could do.

  As James drew down Cal’s zip, Cal spoke without even thinking: “Do you like having your neck kissed, James?”

  James’s hands froze. Slowly, he lifted his gaze and met Cal’s eyes. “Yes. I do.”

  “So do I.”

  Their eyes locked. Cal’s heart pounded, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if James’s did as well.

  James swallowed. “Do you want . . .?”

  Cal couldn’t quite remember how to speak, so he nodded.

  James shifted his weight. His fingers left Cal’s zip, the sudden break in contact jarring Cal. Then he reached up, faltering briefly before his hand rested on Cal’s shoulder. As he leaned in, he met Cal’s eyes again, the unspoken question deepening the creases in his forehead.

  Cal tilted his head slightly to expose the side of his throat. James hesitated, and then kissed Cal’s neck. Cal bit his lip, closing his eyes as warm, soft lips met his skin. James’s five-o’clock shadow was deliciously abrasive, grazing Cal’s skin and making him shiver. As James explored his neck, kissing up and down from his jaw to his collarbone, Cal fought to keep his wits about him. To remember he was supposed to be in charge. In control. He was not supposed to get completely lost in . . . in . . .

  Holy fuck, James’s lips were amazing.

  Cal ran an unsteady hand through James’s hair. He swept his tongue across his lips, and finally managed to whisper, “You’re going to do this while you’re fucking me.”

  “Anything.” James’s voice was nothing but a warm breath against his neck. God, how had he managed to have sex without this?

  Just before he lost his patience with still being somewhat dressed, James pulled down Cal’s trousers and his boxers, thankfully both in one go, because Cal felt like he’d have snapped at him if he’d drawn it out any longer.

  He stepped out of his clothes and felt those lips return to his neck. He grabbed James’s head and pushed his face harder against his own flesh, and they brushed together, erections hot and hard between them. Cal closed his eyes, relishing in those feelings and the blurring of everything else. Nothing outside existed. It was only them and what they could do to each other.

  He barely managed to get his wits about him long enough to move towards the bed, then broke the contact briefly to lie down. He motioned for James to follow, and the man seemed almost spooked to be on top of him. But when Cal bid him to continue, James dove right in again, placing sucking kisses that nearly curled Cal’s toes.

  “Condom.” He pushed against James’s shoulder and James sat back, looking somewhat unsteady, but he pulled the strip closer, tore one off and opened the package.

  “Look at me.”

  James met Cal’s gaze. What Cal saw there was arousal, obedience, a single-minded focus and a softness in James that was terribly attractive, even endearing. James rolled the condom down, not breaking eye contact, and then reached just as blindly for the lube. Cal watched him, idly running his hand over his own cock, impatient to feel more, but fascinated by James being so tentative.

  “Get ready.” Cal pulled the pillow closer.

  James lubed up, still perfectly obedient, and waited, lips tight.

  Cal opened his legs, pushed his knees up, then pulled James on top of him. Before he’d considered it, he kissed him, and again he found it difficult to stop.

  James steadied himself, then pushed against him.

  Cal nearly lost his breath, and he struggled to concentrate on anything else. He didn’t bottom often, but he was in the mood—normally he preferred fucking to being fucked, but so many barriers were down between them. This wasn’t at all about not giving James what he wanted. It wasn’t denial; it was almost a gift, a show of trust, and Cal had wanted to know what it felt like, too. Though in his fantasies, James hadn’t been following orders. He’d have to edit those fantasies, because James breaching him now felt incredible. And his face? The expression on James’s face when he eased his way in against the resistance of Cal’s body. Eyes unfocused and half-closed. Lips apart. Eyebrows knitted together. God, he looked amazing.

  “Neck . . .” Cal ordered breathlessly.

  James leaned farther forwards. Eyes locked on Cal’s, he rolled his hips, and that sensation almost punched Cal’s air out of his lungs. He grabbed James’s head and pushed it against his neck, maybe to hide how much it was affecting him, maybe because he just couldn’t get enough of it, and he arched again when James thrust deeper, and then more, hilting completely inside. Cal was damn near panting.

  “Oh my God, Cal,” James murmured against Cal’s neck. He withdrew a little and thrust back in harder, taking Cal’s breath away. “I don’t . . . I don’t think I’ll last. You feel—”

  “You will.” Cal’s voice came out as more of a plea than a command. He dug his fingers into James’s scalp, arching slightly and tilting his head back so James had more skin to kiss a
nd explore. More firmly, he said, “You won’t come, James.”

  James shuddered, but he kept thrusting, maintaining a rhythm that drove Cal out of his damned mind. Cal gripped James’s hair, rocked his hips, pulling James deeper and encouraging him to fuck him faster, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware he was supposed to maintain control—of this, of himself, of James—but James felt so good. So fucking good. Everything—his fingers in Cal’s hair, his hips brushing the insides of Cal’s thighs, his cock moving deep inside him, those soft lips on his neck—conspired to destroy what little focus he had left.

  He screwed his eyes shut. He tightened his grasp on James’s hair, and when he raked his nails across James’s shoulder, James threw his head back and released a cry that sent Cal right over the edge. His back arched, and his vision went white as he came and James kept on thrusting and forcing himself deep inside Cal until he, too, shuddered.

  He collapsed on top of Cal. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”

  “Shhh.” Cal kissed his forehead. “Neither could I.”

  Fuck. I lost control. What the hell?

  He closed his eyes and smoothed James’s hair. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No.” James dropped a light kiss on Cal’s collarbone. “Don’t apologise.”

  “I tried to stay in . . . in control.”

  “’S okay.” James raised his head and kissed Cal softly. “I’m not complaining.”

  But I’m not giving you what you really need.

  “We’ll get the hang of this,” Cal murmured, more to himself.

  James made a quiet affirmative sound, and lifted himself up, gasping as he withdrew. “I’ll be right back.” He started to stand, but hesitated, lifting his eyebrows.

  Cal nodded.

  James got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Cal’s heart jumped. Was he supposed to be doing something right now? Nick had immediately taken care of Spencer after that lesson, speaking in soothing tones and tenderly applying lotion to the welts on his back, but what was Cal supposed to do? He hadn’t put James into that space. Hadn’t inflicted pain or done any damage.