by R. J. Moray
“If you get attached to me.”
The lift dinged and the doors opened, and Ewan stepped out, suddenly needed to be in motion and away from the confines of a small space with Nate. The foyer was filled with people and he pushed his way through, pausing on the pavement outside to breathe in the chilly new-winter air and let it slap some sense back into him.
What was he doing? He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted Nate, wanted to belong to him completely, wanted Nate to be his in this one particular way, wanted the two of them against the world, and would it be so bad? He could have it, maybe, if he could just swallow his pride and say ‘yes’.
“Coming?” Nate said, taking a step backwards along the street and smiling into the winter sun.
Ewan reached for his hand, curled his fingers into it, and didn’t miss the pleased surprise on Nate’s face. “Yes,” he said.
⁂
The cafe was crowded, with no table service. Ewan wanted quiche. Nate took their orders up and stood in the line flicking through his phone as though perfectly all right waiting along with everyone else. He was, Ewan thought, strange for someone so wealthy. He acted like he wasn't, and seemed largely bewildered by his money, unsure what to do with it. Ewan forgot sometimes that he wasn't just someone like him, a few years along in a career that paid comfortably. It broke his brain sometimes to think about. So he didn't think about it.
He pulled out his phone, meaning to take a photo and snapchat Nate something like 'billionaire in line for quiche', but Google photos popped up a notification that it had made him something. It did this sometimes. Usually they were selfie gifs, because Ewan liked to take more than one selfie at once and pick the best to send, and Google liked to string the rejects together into an awful animation to embarrass him, but this time it was a collage.
'On this day 2008' it was called, and Ewan frowned because…
They were all of Gary. Of Ewan and Gary, and Gary's couch and that party they'd gone to, when Gary had pinned Ewan up against the pool table and threatened to fuck him right there. Gary sober, and then Gary drunk, and a Ewan who was hopeful and vulnerable and still believed in happy endings.
It took the air from his lungs because he'd felt like this with Gary, like it could be real, like he could belong to someone and that someone could be his too. Someone to take charge of his life, and discipline him for his fuck-ups. Someone who listened and cared and knew the difference between Ewan needing comfort and when Ewan needed the back of his hand.
But it hadn't been like that, and in the end Gary had been, well, Gary, and Nate wouldn't be any different, probably. People were all the same, selfish and opportunistic. Whatever Nate liked about Ewan it couldn't last, and when the shine wore off the veneer of kindness would rub away like gold leaf, exposing the lead beneath.
"They're 'experiencing delays'," Nate said, dropping into the seat across from him and smiling. "We'll have to make conversation."
"Aye," Ewan said, locking his phone and shoving it into a pocket. It was happening again. He was letting Nate get close to him and Nate…God, why was he so stupid? Nate wasn't going to love him. Nate was a sadist, and fundamentally incapable. And Ewan was fundamentally incapable of being loved, so why did he ever let himself think this was something he could have?
"Are you all right?" Nate reached over to touch the back of Ewan's hand but he snatched it away. Nate frowned. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing new," Ewan said, hunching in his seat. "Don't worry."
If anything Nate's frown deepened."Are you sick?" He looked like he was going to try and touch Ewan again, so Ewan shook his head sharply.
"I'm fine. Don't nag."
Nate's expression smoothed out to nothing. "Am I a nag?"
"Yes. No. I don't…just don't, okay?" God, he felt sick, this heavy doubt rising in his throat and choking him mercilessly. He couldn't shake the sensation that it was all wrong, that Nate was wrong, that he shouldn't be bothering to try and make this nice, with dates and lunches and kisses in public, that it should just be something hard and fast and painful in the back room of a club or the seediness of a shitty hotel or, fuck, a filthy alleyway with the thrill and fear of discovery.
Nate didn't need to be nice to him. Ewan was going to put out for him anyway, he didn't need to waste his time. So why was he? What was his game?
Now Nate was watching him with unreadable eyes, mouth turned down in the corners. Ewan was ruining everything again. Fuck, why was he like this?
"Just don't," he choked, unable to look Nate in the face.
Nate nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, but that was all he said.
⁂
“Hey, I could come over tonight.”
Nate stared at him for a long moment. Ewan had been quiet all through lunch. Nate suspected it had been the kiss by the elevator, but after that Ewan had tucked his hand into Nate’s and threaded their fingers together and held on, his palm warm and close, and Nate had thought, Yes.
And then he’d shut down, giving one-word answers and demurrals, until now.
“Sure,” Nate said, because he did want that. “What would you like to do?”
“Something sharp,” Ewan said, his cheeks pinking up, but the look he gave Nate was frank and demanding. “Something painful.”
Nate couldn’t deny the spark of interest in his gut. He wanted that too, and it had been too long. The thought of stringing Ewan out and hurting him until he broke was appealing, but also…there was something not right about this. “Are you sure you’re in the right frame of mind for that?”
Ewan bared his teeth. “I’m fine, I said. Don’t coddle me.”
Except they’d been down this road before and Nate knew where it ended, with Ewan walking out on him, leaving him to wake up alone in a cold bed, afraid he’d fucked up everything.
“I think we need to talk about it more,” Nate said, standing up. He offered Ewan his hand but Ewan didn’t take it, pretended not to see it instead. Well. Fine. He was being childish, and it was something Nate found endearing, when it wasn’t irritating.
Now it was a frustration. He escorted Ewan back to the office and let him go when Ewan peeled away the second he was out of the elevator. If he was going to be stubborn then so be it.
Ewan texted him almost immediately.
Are you really going to cut me off?
You make it sound like I’m a utility. When I am in fact a human being who has as much agency as you in this.
He could feel Ewan’s frustration then. Sorry. I just really want to play with you.
Why so suddenly?
You’re fit, you bought me lunch, I like your dick. Play with me. Please?
Flatterer. Do you really think begging is going to get you anywhere?
Please daddy, come on, I’ll be a good boy for you.
Nate winced. That wasn’t like Ewan at all. It felt wrong, off kilter, like Ewan was deliberately putting distance between them by…what? Playing to kinks he didn’t really have?
Stop that. We can talk about this after work.
Let’s talk about it noooowwww
You said you’d be good. I’m not seeing any evidence of that.
There was a pause, and then, Yes, Sir.
No apology, but he did stop, and when Nate came to get him at ten-past five he found Ewan packed up and waiting at his desk, cleaning his keyboard.
“Housekeeping?” Nate asked.
Ewan shrugged. “Trying to be good,” he said meekly, which didn’t suit him at all.
He was the same in the car. Nate felt restless just to be near him when he was like this. The whole thing rubbed him the wrong way. It wasn’t like Channon’s meekness, or the obedience of the subs he’d played with in the past. Ewan was faking this, but so well it was almost convincing, would probably be completely convincing to anyone who didn’t know him well, or only knew him like this. As it was it sat strangely over his normal self, that prickly mess of frustrations and resentment, like an ill-fitting mask. Nate hated it.
; “Are you going to tell me what got into you today?”
Ewan flinched. “Nothing.”
“Jesus, Ewan, don’t lie to me. Say it’s none of my business if that's it, but do me the fucking courtesy of being honest about it.”
This seemed to hurt him, and he turned his face away to stare out the window. “Can’t you just…you can do whatever you want to me. I’ll let you. I won’t say no.”
“I want you to tell me the truth.” Nate swung into the long boulevarde that circled the hill to the housing complex where he lived, for once ignoring the view that panned out sparkling below them. “Is the only way you’ll tell me if I fucking torture it out of you? Because that’s what ‘anything’ means, Ewan,” he snapped. “It means you refuse to tell me until I’ve got you strapped down with clamps on your nipples and your balls in a vice, and you’ll have to safe out or just tell me.” Which wouldn’t be fair, of course, because psychologically Ewan wouldn’t want to hold out at that point, would always break, it was just a matter of time. The whole thing was dodgy as fuck and Nate just…God he was tired of this.
“Bad memories,” Ewan said quietly. “I remembered some things and I…just, can you help me forget them?”
He looked up, grey eyes pleading with Nate not to press and Nate breathed out hard, because that? That was honest. And Ewan had every right to ask for this.
“Okay,” Nate said, reaching over to pat Ewan’s hand where it was clamped tight around the edge of his seat. “I can do that. Thank-you for telling me.”
⁂
It wasn't magic, of course. Ewan was still tense and unhappy, and wanted to skip the negotiation entirely, but Nate was firm about it, made him sit still and answer questions for ten minutes before sending him off to shower with strict instructions to be thorough about it.
By the time Ewan emerged, naked and steaming with his hair hanging wet and gold in his eyes, Nate was ready for him. He cuffed Ewan to the bed and beat his ass, and then proceeded to eat his ass for a good twenty minutes while Ewan writhed and squealed and cursed him out. Nate beat him again after, and pinned him down to jerk off on his back, and Ewan called him every name under the sun, begging Nate to just fuck him already.
Once he'd come, Nate uncuffed Ewan and offered him a dildo to finish himself off. Ewan did it, scowling fit to burst, fucked himself with it flat out on his back, whimpering and whining and trying to coax Nate into taking over.
When Nate finally palmed his dick, Ewan came almost instantly, gasping and fucking up into Nate's palm, and then Nate rolled him onto his belly and pressed himself the length of Ewan's spine, wrapping him up sticky and close.
"You bastard," Ewan groaned. He bit Nate then, but not hard, just closing his teeth on Nate's arm like a warning. "You're such a fucking bastard."
"You know, if you ever talk to me like that in a collar," Nate said conversationally, "I'm going to shove, like, three inches of ginger up your ass and cane you."
Ewan shuddered and hid his face in Nate's armpit. "Oh God…Don't."
"Then don't." Nate kissed the back of Ewan's neck. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Not…you know. Spacey."
"I figured you just needed to let off some steam," Nate said. "Feel better after cussing me out?"
Ewan wriggled, clearly embarrassed. "Yes," he admitted. He gnawed on Nate's arm, never pressing hard enough for it to be a real bite, more like a puppy playing. "You could have fucked me."
He sounded so plaintive, like Nate had rejected him, and Nate kissed up behind his ear, stroking his skin with both hands. "I know. Not today."
"Are you punishing me?"
Nate closed his eyes against the hurt in Ewan's voice. Ewan wasn't 'spacey' now, but he was definitely in a place where he felt small and vulnerable, and Nate rolled up over him like a blanket, like he could shield him from everything bad out there.
Ironic, really, that the only thing that could hurt Ewan right now was Nate.
"I'm not punishing you," Nate murmured. "Not now, not like this. But when I do fuck you the way you want, it's not going to be a work night when you're feeling bad. I'm going to take my time, wring you out, and when I'm done you're going to be so wrecked you spend the next day lazing around my apartment doing absolutely fucking nothing because I've fucked your brains right out of your head."
Ewan shuddered, twisting around to press his mouth to Nate's, unmindful of where Nate's mouth had been tonight. "When?" he demanded, and Nate couldn't help his grin.
"I don't know. What are you doing next weekend?"
"Getting my brains fucked out of my head, apparently," Ewan said, and Nate felt his chest loosen when Ewan smiled at him, like this was perfect.
Chapter 9
Nate woke up on Friday morning to a ringing phone and a shit-storm of epic proportions.
“They’re saying Mr Nash is selling his shares,” Marjorie said, her voice tight with worry. “I’m not asking if it’s true, I’m just telling you in case you didn’t know.”
“What? I thought we were in the middle of an acquisition?”
Marjorie blew out a breath, and it didn’t seem to make her feel any better. “So you didn’t know.”
“No, I didn’t fucking know.” Nate rolled out of bed, clumsy and thick with sleep. “Jesus Christ. I’ll call him. Thank-you.”
But Jack’s phone went straight to message bank and he wasn’t answering chat, and Nate saw his email sit unopened in Jack’s inbox for the time it took him to shower and dress and drive into work, by which time he’d had about fucking enough of this bullshit.
Jack's PA tried to stop him. “He’s not taking calls right now,” she said apologetically, but Nate shook his head.
“This isn’t your fault, Cynthia,” he said. “But I’m going in.”
And then he did.
Jack was sitting with Emma from the legal team—she looked up guiltily, and Jack…Jack had the gall to frown and fold his arms over his chest. “We don’t knock?”
“You’re not answering my calls and it’s kinda urgent,” Nate said, folding his arms and glaring right back. “Plus, we agreed that I get emergency access to you whenever I want it.”
“That’s for catastrophic system failure,” Jack argued, and then he hesitated. “There hasn’t been—”
“No, but it’s pretty catastrophic all the same,” Nate insisted. He nodded to Emma. “Hi Emma. Sorry for interrupting, but I really really need to talk to Jack and it can’t wait.”
She made an excuse and fled, and Nate closed the door behind her while Jack pulled himself together into a tower of masculine anger.
“You can’t just—”
“Really? You’re going to tell me I can’t just barge in here? Like you’ve done to me, every single time you wanted anything from me. For nearly twenty years of my life, Jack.” Nate gestured broadly, trying to take in all of this, the business, their lives, the whole relationship. “They’re saying you’re selling your shares.”
Jack blinked but he didn’t flinch. “That rumor got around quickly.”
“Yeah. So next time maybe tell me first so I don’t get a phone call at ass-o’clock from my terrified staff and have to admit I have no fucking clue what’s going on!”
Jack pursed his lips, bracing his hands on the desk. “Okay. I’m thinking of selling my shares.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been considering my lifestyle and how I want it to change. This company doesn’t need me, and I need…other things.”
What about me? Nate swallowed it down, refusing to admit how deep this went, what a knife-cut. “If you sell, the board’s going to elect a new CEO.”
“If you want the position I’m sure—”
“I don’t. But I don’t want to work with someone else. I don’t want to work with anyone but you.”
It seemed to take the wind from his sails. Jack froze, staring at him, and something painful bloomed in his face. “Nate, this isn’t about us.”
“Isn’t it? It feels
like it.” Nate willed Jack to understand him just this fucking once. We built this together. We’re partners. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?
“I wasn’t thinking about you at all,” Jack said, and he said it like it was supposed to be a kindness but Nate felt it as anything but.
“Right. So you’re selling your shares in the company and I don’t get any say in it, and that’s just supposed to be fine.” Jack looked like he wanted to say something, but Nate didn’t give him a chance. “Sometimes I think you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met,” he said.
He regretted it at once, because it was true and also…also sometimes Jack was so generous that it seemed too cruel a thing to say to him.
He saw it strike home, saw the moment in which Jack decided to pretend he didn’t care. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“I’m sorry you don’t trust me enough to confide in me what’s really going on. I mean, is someone blackmailing you? Are you sick?” His chest felt so tight. What if Jack was and this was his way of tidying up his finances. What if Jack was dying?
“I’m not sick, I’m fine.” Jack shook his head. “It’s not important why I’m doing this. It’s just…something I need to do.”
He said it with such finality. Nate couldn’t believe it.
“Fine. I guess I’ll find out when you go public,” Nate said, and he walked out, furious but also…God, so hurt by it.
How could Jack think it wasn’t important to tell him something like this? How could Jack make a decision like this without talking it over? When had that happened? They were best friends, and Jack…had been absent from that friendship for a while. Did that mean things had changed?
Of course it did. And Nate knew exactly why that was.
Channon.
For a second he was overwhelmed by this incredible anger that Jack could replace him so easily with someone so…inert. Channon was Jack’s boy, his perfect obedient toy, but he wasn’t…Jack didn’t really love him, did he? Jack wasn’t replacing Nate with someone he…what did they even talk about?
Was Nate really that replaceable?
He stewed over it, deflecting subtle and not-so-subtle queries about what the fuck Jack was up to, and then in the afternoon he thought, Fuck it, and went down to help-desk to find Channon.
