If It Flies

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “For the record,” he said, “I think people not dating you for your job are fools.”

  The subtle grin broadened into a full-blown smirk. “Well, you’re a lawyer. You would say that.”

  Spencer laughed. “Come on, I don’t spew bullshit that badly. It’s not like I’m a defence lawyer.”

  Nick threw his head back and really laughed, which didn’t do a damned thing to build Nick’s case that this was all some instinctive response to being stripped down to raw vulnerability. God, he was gorgeous.

  Spencer masked a shiver by turning onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “So when you say you’re willing to ... train me? Be my Dom? What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means you become a regular client.” Nick was all professionalism and negotiations again. “I’ll do what I did earlier and –” he winked, breaking out of that strictly business mode for a second “– what I still plan to do tonight, and let you sort out what you want, what you don’t want, and what kind of submissive you really are.”

  Spencer rolled the idea around in his brain for a moment. He’d never thought of himself as a submissive or a masochist, it had just happened – quite naturally – in Nick’s company. He’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the idea of more. Pro? More sex with Nick. More of this insanely amazing pain. Maybe figuring out what the fuck it was he wanted in a man. Con? More sex with Nick. More of this insanely amazing pain. Quite possibly figuring out that what the fuck he wanted in a man was everything about this man.

  “You’ll get a better grasp on it all as you go,” Nick said, eyeing Spencer like he could hear his thoughts, “and you’ll be able to tell where the physical ends. Because that’s all this is. It’s physical. There’s some deep psychological shit going on, and it’ll get even deeper and stronger, but it’s not what it seems like to you right now.” He trailed his fingers down Spencer’s face. “It’s the pain and the domination. Not me.”

  “So you’re a mind reader?”

  “No. Just experienced.” Nick’s expression hardened. “And the one condition of this arrangement, if you want to sign up for it, is that it stays like this. You’re learning to enjoy pain and be a sub. I’m making money. End of story.”

  Spencer considered it for a moment. Nick was probably right. He did know his way around all this crap. Spencer was a lab rat just stepping into a maze, and Nick had been through it enough times that he knew what he was talking about when he said “don’t go that way.”

  “All right,” he said. “Strictly business, and strictly, uh, training.”

  Nick hesitated, and then smiled. “Good. I think this will be fun.”

  “I thought it was strictly business?”

  “Yeah, well, Mr High-Powered Lawyer.” He winked. “Some of us actually enjoy our jobs once in a while.”

  Spencer laughed.

  Nick moved closer, and Spencer gasped when that slender hand drifted down his chest. “And speaking of which, I’m still on the clock.”

  Spencer wanted to say “So you are” or something equally witty, but Nick’s hand slid over his cock and balls, and there was nothing left to say.

  Chapter 7

  Friday evenings became very nearly sacred. Spencer counted himself lucky that Nick had the end of the week available, but Nick told him that most others preferred the weekend or even the middle of the week, so Friday had been for clubbing or going out. He never learned how many other subs Nick was training, though he assumed not too many – it was intense work; he couldn’t imagine Nick dealing with more than a handful.

  And the subscription model worked for him. Now that the agreement was fixed, Nick gave him a discount, though Spencer made more money than he had time to spend it. It was more than worth it – the endorphin rush alone, but also what he learned about himself. How much pain he could take, that he could take pain at all, that he could face fear, that he could deal with sensory deprivation, locked away for hours with sweet torture.

  It was odd that he felt his strongest while Nick hurt him. Not hurt hurt, but that moment when the pain came in and receded, like a rolling wave that bared treasure on the way back – that moment felt always like he’d tapped into an inner strength he’d never before touched or been aware of.

  Odd that, especially since he felt so weak and fragile immediately after the sessions. The next day, he was relaxed, confident, and the day after that he started looking forward to the next appointment. He worked harder during the week so he could slip out of the office on time and spend an hour or so getting ready, getting into the headspace.

  Sometimes, he would order restaurant food and they’d have a meal in his kitchen. Sometimes Nick would even indulge in half a glass – never more – of red wine. They’d eat, drink a little, and discuss what they’d do next. Spencer loved the way Nick would lick red wine off his lips in between telling him what wicked plans he had for the evening. Like most things Nick did, that never failed to turn him on beyond reason.

  Spencer learned to anticipate and enjoy the whole range of sensation, from Nick gently slapping his face, to the screaming agony of a cane and its deep purple bruise across the arse. With pain that intense, he was just glad that his house was semi-detached and the bedroom was on the far end in an extension with no walls connecting to another house. He screamed, and even gagged he screamed loud enough to possibly disturb people.

  But it was blessed relief when it was over, and Nick soothed him and calmed him and gentled him for hours while Spencer flew without a care in the world.

  The body was a funny thing.

  For three solid months, it was perfect. Well worth what Spencer paid, whether it was taken out of his wallet or his flesh.

  And then it all went to shit.

  Spencer’s jaw still ached from the ball gag – man, did that thing take some getting used to – and the immediate sting of freshly inflicted pain was slowly receding in favour of a dull throb, a warm ache.

  Sometimes they didn’t fuck during a scene. Tonight was one of those nights. Strange how the lack of an orgasm didn’t leave Spencer unsatisfied at all.

  Nick looked at him with heavy-lidded bliss in his eyes. Whatever it was Spencer got out of submitting and taking pain, Nick obviously got it from topping and dishing out pain. All he knew was that sex – even when it wasn’t technically sex – was far beyond anything it had ever been.

  “Maybe next week,” Nick said, slurring just a little, “I should break out the single-tail.”

  Spencer swallowed. He’d seen a few videos recently with single-tails. Those things were brutal. But then, he’d also winced at an evil stick not long ago, and now they just made him grumble, which Nick thought was hilarious. He could get used to a single-tail too.

  “I’m game,” he said.

  “Of course you are.” Nick grinned and ran his fingers over Spencer’s hair just like he always did, except this time he let his fingertips continue down Spencer’s cheek. And stop there, resting against his jaw. “I don’t think I’ve come up with anything yet that you’re not game to try.”

  Spencer laughed. “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.”

  “Oh. Oh! Is that what it is?” Shaking his head, Nick clicked his tongue. His hand repeated its gentle gesture, running over his hair and down the side of his face, and Nick held his gaze as he said, “Spencer, my dear boy, what ever am I going to do with you?”

  “Probably beat the hell out of me, and then fuck me?”

  Nick bit his lip and shivered. “Oh, yeah. I definitely will.”

  “Promise?” Were they getting closer together?

  “Absolutely.” They were getting closer together.

  “Too bad you don’t have the single-tail tonight.” Fuck. Way closer. What ...

  “We’ll make do just fine without it.”

  Nick pressed his lips to Spencer’s. Every nerve ending in Spencer’s body lit up with the sudden rush of electricity. Nick had never kissed him before. Ever. And it was amazing. S
pectacular.

  Just like he did everything else, Nick assumed control of the kiss and guided Spencer’s mouth into motion. His smooth chin grazed Spencer’s, and he knew just how to tease Spencer’s lips apart. Goose bumps covered Spencer’s skin, his whole body tuning in to that kiss, focusing on it, surrendering to it completely.

  At the other end of some undefined expanse of time, they separated, pulling apart almost as slowly as they’d come together.

  Spencer opened his eyes. Then Nick did.

  And a split second later, Nick sucked in a breath and jerked away. “Oh. Shit.”

  “What?” Spencer put up a hand. “What’s –”

  “Fucking hell.” Nick sat up. He turned away from Spencer and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “God, Spencer, I’m sorry, that –”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Spencer sat up and closed some distance between them. “What the hell is wrong?”

  “We – I shouldn’t have done that. It’s ... against the rules.”

  Spencer put his hand on Nick’s arm, and Nick recoiled, flinching away from him like he’d smacked him. Nick got up, running an unsteady hand through his hair.

  “I...I should really go. This is –”

  Spencer stood. He reached for Nick. “Let’s talk, Nick. We’ve been able to talk about everything else.”

  “We did talk about this,” Nick snapped. “And we agreed it wouldn’t happen.”

  Spencer froze. He couldn’t comprehend anything. His brain was still too fucked up from God knew how long in subspace, but he needed to process things. Which he couldn’t do if Nick ran out the door before he’d even had a chance to figure out which way was up, let alone what the hell was going on.

  Nick tossed a few things into his bag, and Spencer really didn’t like the way his hands shook as he zipped it. Or the way his voice did the same as he muttered, “I should go. We’ll talk later.”

  “Nick.” Spencer put a hand on Nick’s arm again. “I don’t think this is as bad as you –”

  “It is. Trust me, it is, and I need to ... I can’t ...” He glanced down at Spencer’s hand, shrugged just right to get his arm out from under it, and as he took a step back, he whispered, “Bonaparte.”

  Everything stops at Bonaparte.

  Spencer shook his head, tried to push the daze away, halfway aware that Nick might need him, might need his help, and that they should really talk about this. Hell, Nick whipped him to tears or complete surrender or both, and they couldn’t talk about a stupid kiss?

  “It’s okay. I...I ... If you need to back off, that’s, uh, fine, but can we talk about this?”

  Nick was starting to get dressed.

  Don’t let him get out of the door in that state.

  “Nick, please. What rules are you talking about? Mine? I never set those rules. Yours? Who agreed to those rules?”

  “Don’t go lawyer on me,” Nick snapped. “It’s not good form.”

  “What, kissing?”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “No, arguing about it. It’s not like I argue when shit gets too much for you.”

  Uh, no. Nick didn’t. Sometimes the pain had been too much, and Spencer had “tapped out,” but that was twice in three months, and once had been simply due to fear of pain rather than the pain itself.

  “Okay. Sorry. That was bad form. I’m just ... trying to understand.”

  Nick, who was always so together, so easily in control, looked like he was freaking out. And that, above everything else, was deeply disturbing. The anchor had lost its hold. The solid ground under Spencer’s feet ... wasn’t. He didn’t know what to think.

  Nick stood there, gaze down and shirt in his hands. His eyebrows were low over his eyes, his lips taut, and the tightness in his neck and shoulders hinted at the much more pronounced, cable-tight tension that always built just before his orgasm took over. The same muscles and tendons under the same skin, but now they seemed somehow harder.

  “Let’s just talk,” Spencer said. “That’s all.”

  Nick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “I need to think first.”

  “So, what?” Spencer blinked. “You’re just going to disappear until you’ve cleared your head? What about me? Do I get a word in this?”

  He expected an angry reaction, a biting response, but Nick just shifted his weight and kept his eyes down. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “Leaving will make things worse.”

  Nick’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “So will staying.”

  “How?” Spencer swallowed hard. “I’m ... kind of lost here.”

  Sighing, Nick ran a hand through his hair. Then he took a stiff, hesitant step towards the bed, and finally sat on its very edge, his leather trousers creaking with the slow movement and the settling of his weight. Spencer wanted to reach for him, if only to make some contact and be sure Nick was really still here, but he didn’t move.

  “This is a business transaction.” Icicles hung off every word. “It’s just supposed to be ...”

  “Just sex.”

  A stiff shrug. “More or less. Some pain play, dominance ...” He waved a hand sharply. “Whatever. Just that. There are lines we can’t cross.”

  “Are you saying we’re in danger of crossing those lines?”

  Nick met his eyes. Neither of them needed to add the “... or have we already?”

  Spencer drew a shuddering breath. “I like you, Nick. I really do. I ... guess I trust you so much that it’s kind of difficult not to like you.”

  Nick shook his head. “That’s the point. You don’t have to be in control. I do.”

  Oh. Oh.

  “It’s okay. I – I can forget that happened. We just got carried away.” And it had felt so damn nice. “An accident, though you’re an amazing kisser. I’m good with that. If you want, you can kiss me. We just change the rules.”

  Nick looked at him like he was a complete babbling idiot. Maybe he was. But damn, it had felt nice, and now that he knew Nick had lost control, even in this simple, everyday gesture that still felt more intimate than all the other things they’d done, it thrilled him to his toes. But maybe that was just ego. The john who got an enormous kick out of the whore climaxing. Some things couldn’t be faked, and maybe for Nick that was kissing. Of all things.

  Nick tapped his temple. “In here, I know it happened.” His Adam’s apple jumped. “And ... why.”

  Spencer chewed his lip. “Well, that makes one of us.”

  Closing his eyes, Nick blew out a sharp breath. “Don’t make me spell it out, Spencer. Not tonight.”

  It was bizarre to hear Nick pleading. Even at the height of pre-climax tension, he gave orders. Any question he asked, he damn sure knew the answer to already. He didn’t beg. He didn’t plead. He just bloody didn’t.

  So this? Spencer had no idea how to process this.

  “I need to go.” The firmness had returned to Nick’s voice, but he stood as slowly as he’d sat down. “We’ll talk more. Next week.”

  At least that allowed Spencer to breathe a little easier. This wasn’t a slamming door, just an intermission. There would be a next week.

  He stood too. “I guess we should settle up. For this evening.”

  Nick chewed the inside of his cheek, shook his head. “We’ll work it out when I come back. When we both have clearer heads.” He met Spencer’s eyes again. “You won’t be paying full price for tonight, I just ... I don’t know how much ...”

  “I’ll pay you in full for tonight.” Spencer picked up his wallet off the dresser and slid the notes free. As he held them out to Nick, he added, “If you want to discount it, we can work that out when you come back.”

  Nick eyed the money, then Spencer. With a sigh that could have been relief, resignation, defeat, or God knew what, he took the cash, and it was probably no accident that their fingers didn’t brush. He slid the notes into his back pocket and put on his shirt.

  “So, next week.” He cleared his throat as he draped his j
acket over his arm. “Same time.”

  Spencer nodded. “Same bat time, same bat channel.”

  Nick allowed himself a quiet laugh, which relaxed Spencer a little more. Maybe he was just spooked. Couldn’t think on his feet right now. Needed to collect his thoughts in private before the two of them talked it over.

  And with an equally quiet “I’ll see you,” Nick left.

  Leaving Spencer to ponder, for the next six days, how something that had felt so good could hurt either of them.

  Chapter 8

  Won’t be able to make it tonight, the text said. And a second text, just a few minutes later: Heading with a friend to Spain. Realised I haven’t had a holiday in years.

  With a friend?

  Spencer’s stomach clenched, and he wished he’d left the phone at his desk rather than taken it with him to lunch. Nick had never skipped out, always been on time, reliable and steady like few other people in Spencer’s life.

  Though it figured. Getting trashed in Spain with a friend was one of those things young guys did, and maybe Nick figured that letting his hair down, getting piss drunk and possibly laid – don’t think about that part – was the best way to relax. Besides, Spain was cheap at the moment, and out of season, too.

  Only problem was, he’d come to rely on Nick for his sanity after each stressful week, especially now that the firm’s big merger deal was heating up again, with lots of musical chairs being fought over in the various practices, and he itched to try to intercept him on the way to the airport. Except that would be far too clingy. That, and trying to guess the right airport between Heathrow, Gatwick, City, Stansted, and Luton would be a desperate bid with no chance of success.

  He slid his phone into his pocket, feeling abandoned, bereft, disappointed in Nick and in himself for how much he relied on this.

  What had Percy said? I do like some variety.

  Thing was, this was much deeper than punching a hole. This pain/pleasure thing was so much more complex than the sex, and on that count, he’d been completely honest with Nick. He trusted him. And Nick had made a commitment – to teach him, train him, and above all, to be worthy of that trust.