If It Drives (A Market Garden Tale)

by Aleksandr Voinov

  Cal nodded.

  “Hmm. I don’t know.” Nick looked over his shoulder as Spencer came into the room with a third cup of tea. “Spencer, what do you think?”

  Spencer paused mid-step, glancing back and forth from Nick to Cal. Then he continued, and as he sat beside Nick on the couch, said, “About what?”

  Nick sipped his tea, then set it down. “Is it possible for a Dom to be fucked and still be in control?”

  Spencer’s lips quirked, and when he glanced at Nick, they exchanged subtle but telling grins. An image flickered through Cal’s mind of Spencer fucking Nick, and while he could imagine that, he couldn’t imagine Nick relinquishing the slightest bit of control. Question answered.

  Spencer nodded. “It’s definitely possible.”

  Nick smiled. He patted Spencer’s leg and then faced Cal. His humour faltered slightly. “Is this something you want to try?”

  “It’s something I have tried.” Cal lowered his gaze to the cup in his hands. “And I don’t think I quite pulled it off.”

  “What makes you say that?” Nick asked.

  Cal replayed the other night in his mind before he looked at Nick again. “I, um, well, I let James top me. And I said no orgasms, but I couldn’t . . .”

  “You’re the Dom.” Nick shrugged. “You can come whenever you want.”

  “Except I feel like I just lost it.” Cal sighed. “Like I got caught up in what we were doing, and . . .”

  “So it wasn’t a loss of control over your sub. It was a loss of control over yourself.”

  “Basically.”

  “I see.” Nick glanced at Spencer, then back at Cal. “How did James respond?”

  “He came too.”

  “With your permission?”

  Cal shook his head. “He apologised for losing control, but I mean, so did I.”

  “Did you admit that to him?” Nick arched an eyebrow. “Or let him believe that you hadn’t lost control?”

  “I . . . um . . .”

  Nick wagged a finger at him. “And that, my friend, is where you made the mistake.”

  “I should have played it cool?”

  “And punished him, yes.”

  Spencer cleared his throat and rubbed at the handle of his mug.

  “See, when Spencer loses it, I put him in a cage. Cock cage, that is. Part of the fun is to get him to lose it, and part of what’s going on is that he knows what’s in store if he comes too quickly: He won’t be coming for a while. Poetic justice.”

  Cal glanced at Spencer, but the man nodded without making eye contact. Was it embarrassing for him to be discussed that way? Did it turn him on? Nick talking about what they did when they were alone, speaking almost as if Spencer weren’t there—taking that decision from him whether to share or not? But he didn’t seem uncomfortable or put off. He and Nick must have decided beforehand what the lines and boundaries were.

  Cal set his cup down. “I’m not sure I can do that. Or whether he’ll let me do that.”

  Nick clicked his tongue. “I think he absolutely would.”

  “What . . . what did he exactly hire you for? People in the Garden seemed to, I don’t know.” Cal paused. “Let’s put it this way. When I went and talked to the people at Market Garden, there was a lot of ‘oh, he hired Nick’ as if that explained something.”

  Nick laughed. “Cal. I’m a sexual sadist. That’s my reputation at Market Garden, and it’s who I am. The only difference between me and somebody who goes around hurting and maiming people to blow their rocks is that I understand consent and make sure I have it. And I don’t actually deal real damage.” He leaned back. “It can be unsettling, especially when you’ve been indoctrinated about what’s acceptable in bed, but all that is a cultural construct anyway. That’s really all I can tell you. I have a fair idea of what your man craves, but we didn’t have much time to explore it.”

  “I’m kinda glad you didn’t.”

  Nick grinned. “James is a tough piece of work. Not the easiest sub for a newbie.”

  “Oh. Good. So it’s not just me.”

  “No, it’s not.” Nick shook his head. “And the thing is, I can show you how to be a Dom, how to be in control of a sub, but topping someone like him”—he nodded towards Spencer—“is entirely different from someone as . . . unwieldy as James.” He turned to Spencer. “No offence.”

  Spencer chuckled. “None taken.”

  “Well,” Cal said, “what you’ve taught me so far has helped.”

  “Good.” Nick chewed his lip. “I’m just not sure what else I can do. I can show you all kinds of methods for inflicting pain, restraining someone, and generally being in control. But responding to James’s cues? That’s hard to explain without having a good handle on the cues he gives.”

  Beside him, Spencer cleared his throat. “Uh, a suggestion?”

  Nick and Cal both turned to him. Spencer was hardly intimidated by either of them, but his forehead creased a bit as he held his Dom’s gaze. “What if you both go to James?”

  Nick blinked. “If we . . .”

  Spencer shifted a little. “Arrange something like what we’ve been doing with Cal. Only with James instead of me.” He paused. “Not that I’m opposed to helping out, but if you think it would be more effective to use James, maybe that’s something to consider.”

  Nick thought for a moment. “Much as you were hesitant in the beginning, Cal, I think that’s a damned good idea.”

  Spencer relaxed, the creases disappearing and his expression easing to a subtle smile.

  To Cal, Nick said, “Do you think he’d go for it?”

  Cal exhaled hard. “I’m not exactly sure how to broach the subject with him.”

  Nick gave a quiet laugh. “Why not? You can’t just work it into casual conversation?”

  “Probably not, no.” Cal chuckled. “But if you think you’d have a better handle on how he and I interact, maybe I can find a way to suggest it.”

  Nick grinned. “Excellent. Much as I’m enjoying leaving the rentboy life behind, I have to admit I wouldn’t mind a rematch with that particular john.”

  Spencer laughed and rested a hand on Nick’s leg, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Cal said. “And see what he says.”

  “Perfect.” Nick paused. “But as long as you’re here, and we have this wonderfully masochistic and willing sub”—his gaze slid towards Spencer, who shivered—“I’m sure I can still show you a thing or two.”

  Cal gulped. “Masochistic? What exactly did you have in mind?”

  Nick slowly turned so he was facing Spencer. “Oh, I don’t know.” He trailed a fingertip up Spencer’s arm. “Have you ever heard of an evil stick?”

  Friday night came at the end of a tough week for James. Cal knew the rhythm by now. It was usually the build-up to a business deal, something high-stakes and high-stress. At least it wasn’t bad enough for James to head into the office on Saturday or Sunday. Not yet. But he had worked so hard and long for the last few days—his home office light had been on until all hours of the morning every night this week—that Cal could feel the tension rising. This build-up always meant it was only a matter of time before James told him to drive to Market Garden.

  So it was high time he stopped it.

  On the way back from the City, Cal glanced in the rearview at James, who was checking his phone. “James, do you have a moment?”

  James frowned, then put the phone away, perhaps surprised that Cal hadn’t called him “sir.” It did get his attention, just like it had during that first drive that had turned kinky. “I do. What’s on your mind?”

  “I hope you don’t have any plans for tomorrow.”

  “I can make some time.”

  “Afternoon and night?”

  “Yes.” James pushed forwards in his seat. “Anything particular you have in mind, Cal?”

  “I do.” Cal fell silent, navigating a turn. “I’ve been hiring some help.”

  “What kind of h
elp?”

  “Some guidance. I’ve been taking, uh, I guess you could say I’ve been taking lessons. In BDSM.”

  James’s mouth opened. They still hadn’t spoken about that night in the hotel room, what it meant. Never mind what either of them wanted out of this. The most recent evening with Nick and Spencer had confirmed one thing, though: Cal was okay with causing pain, though it was strange to inflict it on gentle, sweet Spencer. Counterintuitive to punish somebody who’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

  He hasn’t done anything wrong, but he deserves it, Nick had said.

  In that sense, maybe it worked. Inflicting pain didn’t do much for him—Cal’s enjoyment had come from Spencer’s responses. Nick, of course, was wired totally differently. He certainly wasn’t out to harm Spencer, and genuinely cared about his pleasure and well-being, but he needed to cause pain and be in control to be satisfied. Cal didn’t need either of those things unless James needed to be on the receiving end of them.

  “Callum?”

  Cal cleared his throat and pretended he’d been concentrating on driving. “To be honest, I had a feeling you needed something that first night we were together. More than just sex, I mean. So I, um, went looking. To find out what that was and how to give it to you.”

  James’s breath caught. “Why not ask me?”

  Because I wasn’t sure even you knew.

  Cal forced himself not to gulp or otherwise show that he was nervous. “I didn’t want to suggest that I could do it, and then find out I was in over my head.” Yeah, because that hasn’t happened anyway. “So I wanted to learn about it first.”

  “I see.” James didn’t sound upset or irritated, at least. “When you say you asked, uh, who did—” He stopped abruptly. Leather creaked. Movement from the corner of his eye grabbed Cal’s attention, and he realised James had rested his elbow in the open privacy window, leaning a little closer to him. “Please tell me you didn’t talk to Irina about this.”

  “What? No. No! Of course not.”

  “Then . . .?”

  Cal took a breath. “I went to Market Garden.”

  “Oh.” Pause. “Oh.” James drew his arm back. “And you’ve been getting, uh, lessons, you said?”

  “Sort of. Just some pointers from someone who knows what he’s doing.”

  A long silence set in. Then, “Who?”

  Cal focused on the street in front of him, ignoring the temptation to glance in the rearview. “Nick.”

  “You . . . Nick?” James sputtered. “Oh God. You’ve been— Wait, I didn’t think he was working there anymore.”

  “He’s not.” Cal tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “The owner of the club, he helped me get in contact with him.”

  “And he’s been teaching you.”

  “Basically.”

  James let out a long breath. “Nick isn’t cheap.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’ve . . . you’ve been going to him and learning all of this? For my benefit?”

  Cal nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Because you need it.

  Because I need you.

  Cal’s thumbs stopped tapping, and he gripped the wheel tighter. They were almost home, the driveway nearly in sight. Cal’s stomach wound in knots. He hadn’t even broached the subject of bringing Nick over, and already the conversation was unbearably awkward.

  The last minute or so of the drive was silent, and Cal didn’t think he’d ever been so relieved to pull the car up in front of that familiar, massive house so this drive would be over. He parked and grabbed his cap, hoping the switch back to formality would alleviate some of the discomfort between them.

  He pulled open James’s door, and when the man got out, Cal couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. They were on strange ground now. Cal felt like he was teetering between too many roles—employee, lover, Dom, friend—and he couldn’t say for certain which of those roles had overstepped his bounds.

  “Why, Cal?” James whispered.

  Cal swallowed. “Are you upset?”

  James tensed, as if he hadn’t expected that question. “No, no, I’m not upset.” He held Cal’s gaze. “I guess I just . . . wasn’t expecting it. I don’t quite understand.”

  Cal searched his expression, as if some quirk of his lips or narrowness of his eyes might tip his hand and reveal he really was upset. If he was anything but taken aback and just trying to wrap his head around things, though, he didn’t show it.

  Cal resisted the urge to shift nervously. “You wanted something from me that first night. And you’d gone looking for Nick in particular, so I figured whatever it was, he’d given it to you before. So maybe he could help me figure out what it was, and how to give it to you.”

  “But why?” James met his eyes again. “Why are you doing this . . . for me?”

  “Because you need it. Or want it. One of the two.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  Twin creases formed between James’s eyebrows. “What are you getting out of this?”

  Cal reached for James’s face. “Do you really need to ask?”

  James took his hand before he could make contact and held it. Spencer would simply have melted into the touch, but James wasn’t like Spencer at all. Outside the bedroom, there was still that type A personality, the charismatic finance wizard. “Help me understand one thing, Callum.”

  Cal nodded.

  “You were upset when I tried to give you money. And now you’re training to acquire some specialist skill to satisfy me? How exactly is that different? If it’s not you, then turning yourself into a version of Nick, how is that not prostitution?” He sounded mild, gentle.

  Cal shook his head. “That’s not it at all. I want to do this.”

  “If it’s not you, maybe doing it isn’t good for you.” James took half a step, brushing Cal. “I don’t want you to twist yourself and bend over backwards to press my buttons.”

  “Except pushing your buttons is what pushes mine. And Nick . . . Nick seemed to know how to do that.”

  James broke the eye contact and seemed to deflate a bit. “He wasn’t the only one I rented.”

  “But you never asked for the others again.”

  “It’s a very specialised skill set.”

  “A specialised skill set that I’m learning.” Cal set his jaw. “I can do what he does.”

  James briefly met his gaze. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

  Cal’s heart dropped. “Why not?”

  “I want you as you are, Cal. There’s no need to play games. And maybe I want you to respect me. If a whore doesn’t respect me, I don’t . . . care. If somebody I know doesn’t . . .” He looked towards the house. “It’s different. I don’t think those two should be mixed.”

  “R-respect you?” Cal shook his head. “You don’t think I respect you?”

  James raised his eyebrow.

  Cal sighed. “I do. If I didn’t respect you—or the things you want—I wouldn’t bother trying to learn how to do this. I just didn’t want you paying me as if I was one of those—”

  “But you’re doing what I pay them to do.”

  “Except I’m not doing it for the money.”

  James turned to him, and Cal struggled to hold his gaze.

  “That first night,” Cal said softly, “I liked it. A lot. And I liked the fact that you enjoyed it. The only reason I went to Nick was to learn how to do it better. Maybe so you wouldn’t need—” He cut himself off so abruptly, he almost bit his tongue.

  “So I wouldn’t need what?”

  Cal avoided his eyes. “The guys at Market Garden.”

  James was silent. Completely still, completely silent. Finally, in an even, unreadable tone, he said, “You were asking earlier if I was free tomorrow night. Why?”

  Suddenly it all seemed like a stupid idea. A terrible idea. But he couldn’t lie. The cat was already mostly out of the bag. “Would you be opposed to Nick, uh, joining us?�
��

  James coughed like he’d just choked on nothing. “Joining us?”

  “Yeah.” Cal cautiously raised his gaze and met James’s. “He said it might be easier for him to show me how to respond to your cues if you’re there with us.”

  James turned towards the house, as if he needed something else to look at. He combed his fingers through his hair, then paused to rub his neck as if some fresh tension had formed beneath his skin. “Nick. Wow.”

  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” Cal swallowed. “I just want to learn how to do this right.”

  “I, um . . .” James’s eyes flicked towards Cal, but only for a second. “I need to think.”

  And with that, he headed up to the house, leaving Cal beside the open car door with his heart dropping to his feet. As James disappeared into the house, Cal swore under his breath and shut the door.

  Numbly, running on autopilot, he put the car away and headed down to his cottage. He toed off his shoes, shuffled into the living room and dropped into one of the armchairs. Rubbing his temples, he closed his eyes and sighed.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  Doing things behind James’s back at first—but he’d had to tell him. This whole thing couldn’t work without James knowing what he was getting into. What he was trying to get James into.

  Respect.

  Was that really the thing that was holding James back? If he needed orders, needed direction, needed some way to let go and give up control, why would that even potentially harm the respect between them?

  Besides, he’s your employer, so of course you respect him on that basis alone.

  Cal switched on his computer, fired up the document he’d been working on, but the cursory read kicked him back out of the text. It wasn’t bad prose, but in this mood, he couldn’t dive into the writing at all. Not a swimming pool, but a shallow puddle, with nothing underneath the pretty reflection. This situation was definitely messing with the place he took his words from.

  What if Nick joined them, kind of like a UN Blue Helmet, just there to watch and oversee? If James were to agree in the end, if they were all together, what if James decided that Nick was just so much better at it (Cal couldn’t hope to compete with a pro)? What if it went beyond what Cal was comfortable with? And what if it had been a rotten idea and James would really be okay with just getting topped within an inch of his sanity?