If It Fornicates (A Market Garden Tale)

by Aleksandr Voinov

  Exhaling slowly, he willed himself to relax. The red faded. The tension started to ease. Spencer kept the pressure on the tender muscles, alternately kneading with his knuckles (which hurt) and the heel of his hand (which hurt less) until finally, the stiffness melted.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Nick slurred as his entire shoulder started to relax.

  “Didn’t, to be honest.” Spencer was using his palms now, making firm circles over the area that he’d just worked on. “Guess I have a knack for it.”

  “You should’ve gone into this line of work instead of the one you’re in.” Nick rolled his shoulder under Spencer’s hands. “You’re damned good at it.”

  Spencer didn’t respond. He lifted one hand away and picked up the massage oil. Room temperature liquid pooled on Nick’s back beside Spencer’s other hand, like he’d poured it over the back of that hand and the excess was spilling onto Nick’s skin.

  Spencer put the bottle aside, and then continued working on Nick. He inched towards Nick’s other shoulder, making smooth, slick circles and melting the tight muscles beneath them. By the time he had Nick’s right shoulder in his hands, it was almost as relaxed as the other one.

  “Is conversation still out?” Spencer slowly applied more pressure to Nick’s muscles.

  “It will be if you hit another knot like that other one, but we’re good for now.” Nick’s eyelids were heavy. “Assuming I don’t fall asleep.”

  “If you’re that relaxed, be my guest.”

  The room was silent except the soft hiss of slick hands over skin.

  Nick brought up one arm and folded it under his head to prop himself up, and then turned so he could see Spencer in his peripheral vision. “Something on your mind?”

  “I . . .” Spencer’s hands faltered before resuming their gentle circles. “Just thinking about a few things, but nothing . . . nothing earth-shattering.”

  Nick’s shoulders may have been relaxed, but something knotted in his gut. “Well, now you’ve piqued my curiosity. What’s up?”

  Spencer was quiet for a moment. Judging by the slower and slightly less focused motions of his hands, he was distracted. Thinking. Perhaps trying to form the words. Finally, “I was thinking about our conversation the other night. About things I want us to do together.”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  The motions were a little steadier and more confident now. “I guess it just got me thinking, and—” Words and hands both paused. Hands started again. Words still hung in suspended animation.

  “You can ask for anything, Spencer,” Nick said softly. “There’s no rule against telling me what you like or what you think you might like.”

  “It’s just your decision whether or not it happens?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay.” Silence fell again, and Spencer kept rubbing Nick’s shoulder. “Do you ever let other men fuck you?”

  Nick cleared his throat. “Are you asking if I let my clients fuck me? Or are you asking if I’ll let you?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Which answer do you want more?”

  The silence lasted awhile this time. Possibly a full minute or more, though Nick lost track of time as he tried to stay conscious while Spencer’s hands turned his bones to liquid. God in heaven, this man needed to change careers.

  Spencer drew a deep breath. “Would you let me?”

  There was no way Spencer missed the full-body shudder. Or the goose bumps prickling Nick’s scalp and all the way down to his feet. Especially the ones on the skin Spencer was still massaging.

  “Is that what you want?” Nick asked.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

  “That wasn’t my question.”

  “Yes,” Spencer said without hesitation this time. “I want to.”

  Nick swallowed. “To answer your other question, no, I don’t let my clients fuck me. And I’ve only ever let a few guys do it. Three I can think of.”

  Spencer’s hands slowed, then resumed their perfect speed. “Oh.”

  “And with those three,” Nick whispered, “I had to think about it for a long time. Psych myself up for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s not something I volunteer for without a lot of forethought.” He craned his neck a little, ignoring the vague strain it put on his sore muscles because he wanted to be able to see Spencer. “But the second you asked? The answer was yes.”

  And I don’t know what to make of that.

  Spencer looked surprised, then pleased, then happy. Adorable. Fucking adorable, that smile. There was nothing threatening about Spencer, nothing violent, nothing even inconsiderate. No macho posturing. Nick was even convinced that the massage hadn’t been the set-up to topping. Spencer had wanted to fix his shoulder more urgently than he had wanted Nick flat on his belly and receptive to the idea of a cock up his arse.

  “I’d never hurt you, Nick.”

  No way he could be more adorable. “I’d rip your balls off if you did.” Nick smiled. “Can’t promise I’d make bottoming a habit, either. I get a bigger kick out of topping. It’s no comparison.”

  “But you . . . it’s fun for you, too?”

  “Can be,” Nick replied cautiously.

  Spencer leaned down again and kissed the side of Nick’s neck. “And vanilla sex. Do you ever do that?”

  “It’s, well, vanilla. The flavour everybody likes and that’s a bit bland.” Nick shrugged, then rolled his shoulders. Sore, but different sore, which was a good sign. “Though I guess I could add some chili. Tying you up, handcuffs, that kind of thing.”

  Spencer inhaled sharply. “I’d like that.”

  “I know.” Nick chuckled. “Any more questions?”

  “Have you ever been the sub?”

  “No. Freaks me out. I dislike pain, humiliation turns me into a raging beast, and restraints are a shortcut to a nervous breakdown. I can’t cope.”

  “Wow.” Spencer’s hands were sliding, but the movements now felt more like caresses than anything purposeful. “Then how did you learn domming? Is that something you can pick up from a book?”

  “Oh, I’ve picked up a thing or two from books.” He tilted his head forward, arching his neck a bit, and Spencer took the invitation. Nick groaned as Spencer carefully kneaded his neck. Then he found his breath and remembered he’d been speaking. “A few books. That’s where I learned about the psychology of it. And a few—” He exhaled as Spencer’s fingertips trailed down the sides of his neck, the touch as erotic as it was relaxing. “Fuck, mate. You are seriously in the wrong line of work.”

  Spencer laughed. He slid his fingers up into Nick’s hair, and Nick didn’t care if he had massage oil in his hair now, because bloody hell, that touch was amazing. More goose bumps, another shudder; it was a good thing Spencer had asked him earlier about being a sub, because when he had his hands on Nick like this, he could probably get Nick to do anything.

  Then Spencer’s hands drifted back to Nick’s shoulders, and just rested there, a slightly heavy and pleasantly warm presence on muscles that felt nothing like they had earlier. “You were saying? About books and stuff?”

  “Right. Right.” Nick pressed back against Spencer’s hands. “Books. A few pointers from guys with more experience.” He turned his head, resting it on his arm again. “I had a sub a while ago who had more experience than me, and he taught me a lot.”

  “The sub taught you?” Spencer lifted one hand off his skin, then the other, and eased himself onto the bed beside Nick. “How does that work?”

  “We’d talk beforehand. About what we both wanted out of a scene. What the limits were. And the more I got to know him and his wants and needs, the more I learned to be creative—and safe—about fulfilling them.” He turned onto his side and propped his head up with one hand. “And I watched a lot of porn.”

  Spencer laughed. “Seriously?”

  Chuckling, Nick shook his head. “No, I’m kidding. I mean, okay, I’ve watched a lot of por
n. But that’s not where I learned to do the things I do.”

  Spencer glanced down and then pulled the blanket up over Nick’s legs and arse. “You shouldn’t get cold,” he said absentmindedly.

  There. The guy was just too caring for his own good.

  “Porn did teach me a thing or two,” Spencer said, settling close enough to brush Nick, as if he needed the contact.

  “Like?” Nick reached out to rest his hand on Spencer’s thigh.

  “Well. That I’m most likely a bottom and that pain might be what I like. Part of me was, I guess, at war with my liberal values. Getting my head around my desires took a while, considering history and the inevitable race issues. So I didn’t do anything much, but I dreamed about kinkier sex, fantasised. Until I met you, vanilla worked for me, especially if I pretended . . . in my head.”

  Nick nodded. “No wonder you fell asleep over files with the previous guy. You were holding yourself back. In my experience, as long as it’s not sick shit, I mean, criminal stuff, it’s better to simply accept it. Makes a hell of a difference in your life.”

  “It does.” Spencer beamed at him.

  Nick couldn’t help the chuckle. “You’re adorable like that.”

  Spencer laughed. “Well. You’re not bad when you’re relaxed, either. I mean, you’re stunning when you’re beating the hell out of me, but I’m really into that other side of you. This one.”

  “That’s lucky. As my boyfriend, you’re getting to see a lot of that.”

  Spencer smiled. “I’m lucky.”

  Nick sat up, though his shoulders protested the movement. Maybe mellow vanilla was really the only thing he was capable of now. “Strip,” he told Spencer.

  Spencer’s brow creased, like he wasn’t quite sure if it had been a suggestion or an order. But then he visibly decided it was an order, or was at least to be treated like an order. He climbed off the bed and shed his clothes. Nick was pleased to see he was almost hard. Spencer moved back towards the edge of the bed.

  “Get the handcuffs and lie on your back.”

  Spencer fished the cuffs from the nightstand and stretched out in the middle of the bed. He lifted his arms up, and Nick closed one cuff around his wrist, then wove the chain and free cuff through the headboard’s bars, and closed the cuff around Spencer’s wrist on the other side.

  Spencer was fully erect now, eyes focused on Nick. Nick trailed his fingers across Spencer’s chest. “Maybe I’ll have your nipples pierced,” Nick mused. “I could possibly do it myself.”

  The small cringe was at least partly anticipation. “Your . . . yourself?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Nick grinned. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  Spencer nodded without hesitation, but his brow was still creased.

  Nick reached up and caressed Spencer’s face. “Would you let me do that? Pierce your nipples?”

  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 sl
id 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.