by R. J. Moray
“That was a lie,” Ewan said. “You lied to that nice lady for chocolate.”
“Like you’ve never lied for chocolate,” Cameron scoffed. He dragged Ewan to a table near the fountain and started eating his disgusting sundae. “So. You’re banging my uncle, right?”
“What makes you think I’m going to answer that question?”
“Bragging,” Cameron said succinctly. “He’s a catch. You should lock him down.”
“I’m not marrying your uncle,” Ewan protested, feeling his face heat. “We’re just dating.”
Cameron narrowed his eyes. “Are you ‘going steady’?” he asked, making obnoxious finger quotes.
“I…guess?”
“Okay. You should marry him, though, I could do with more gay uncles.” Cameron licked his plastic spoon thoughtfully. “And then you should adopt me so I never have to go home.”
“Sugar has ruined your brain,” Ewan scoffed, taking Cameron’s cup and making like he’d throw it in the fountain.
Cameron snatched it back and leaned out of reach. “Don’t you want kids? I’m awesome, I can play the guitar and the drums.”
“Those are definitely not the selling points you think they are.”
“You don’t have to buy me, I’m free!”
Behind him, Nate laughed. Ewan glanced up at him, his face flooding with heat. How much had Nate heard?
Apparently not enough to make him awkward—he took Ewan’s spoon and tasted his chocolate and strawberry sundae. “Nice. You two wanna get out of here?”
The weekend dissolved into video games and bickering, which Nate watched with amusement from an armchair in the corner as he worked on his laptop. Ewan beat Cameron at Black Ops and lost to him at Need for Speed and they took turns with Saints Row, making their character a bizarre-looking Silver Surfer with a purple mohawk and booty-shorts.
Ewan stayed over again, and helped Nate cook a stir-fry. They made out a little, until Nate put a stop to it, and Ewan spent a second night in Nate’s bed.
It felt good to wake up next to him. Nate’s skin felt soft and warm in the mornings, too delicately soft to be real. Ewan touched him gently, not sure if he wanted to wake him or not. The sun cut in around the edge of the curtains, gilding the hair of his arms and rendering him beautiful as a Monet. Ewan tugged the sheet down, admiring the swell of muscle where Nate was thick in the arms, the soft ripple of his belly and sharp cradle of his hips. He was shirtless now, and had kicked off his sweats in the night, his boxers flimsy, worn thin as tissue.
Why did he have these? He could buy an entire underwear department. Ewan decided he didn’t need them, and tugged them down, slipping them off Nate’s hips and around his thighs.
“Are you stripping me?” Nate asked, his voice soft with sleep. When Ewan looked up Nate was blinking lazily at him, eyes very blue beneath his lashes.
“I want to suck your cock,” Ewan whispered. “Can I?”
“Sure,” Nate sighed, rolling onto his back. He bent an arm over his face, eyes buried in the crook of his elbow, and Ewan crawled down to nestle between his legs. Nate smelled rich and warm, and Ewan pushed his nose into the soft skin of his sack, nuzzling his balls and breathing them in. Nate made room for him, one hand resting gentle on the back of his neck, just resting, not pushing anything.
Nate seemed half asleep, but Ewan felt half asleep himself, and it felt good to lick him now, good to mouth at him and lip at the head of his cock. Nate breathed out, and Ewan slid up to take him into his mouth, sucking him with slow reverence as Nate stroked up into his hair. He was hard in Ewan’s mouth but soft everywhere else, his hips rocking very gently upward, hand just drawing whorls on Ewan’s scalp.
Time slowed, the light thick and honey-gold, and Ewan lost track of everything except the cock in his mouth, the rise of heat in his hips as he ground himself against the mattress, Nate’s breath heavy and ragged, and then his small gasp. “Ewan, if you don’t want it in your mouth—”
But Ewan did want it in his mouth, sucked Nate right in and Nate groaned low, the sluggish pulse of his come throbbing out in Ewan’s throat in slow gouts and Ewan felt dizzy, breathless, so needy, like something had lit under his skin.
“Hey,” Nate said, tugging his hair. “Come up here.”
He pulled Ewan up and kissed him, slow and deep, as if licking every trace of his DNA from Ewan’s mouth. He settled between Ewan’s thighs, rutting against him slow and firm, still kissing him like it was the end of the world, and slowly, fuck, so slowly he rubbed Ewan up until Ewan spilled over, thick and wet between them, his whole body shuddering as he moaned into Nate’s mouth. Nate rutted him through it, held him down on the mattress to be kissed a little more, and eventually pulled back, his eyes half-lidded and mouth red as sin.
“Ah. Hah. Good morning.”
Ewan couldn’t say anything intelligible, just mumbled some random syllables, and Nate chuckled, pressing his brow to Ewan’s shoulder.
“That was reckless, but worth it.” He hummed, and kissed Ewan’s throat. “Probably not a good idea to try that again, though.”
“How long is Cam staying?” Ewan asked, because he had a date to be fucked and Nate wasn’t going to do it with a kid in the house, that much was obvious.
“No idea.” Nate’s brow crinkled up, his eyes focusing on the pillow beside Ewan’s head. “Probably til Christmas.”
Ewan bit his lip, and tried not to let his complaints show on his face. He was doing his best to be good, to not annoy Nate too much, only just enough. He wanted…
If he was honest, he wanted to be good for Nate, so Nate would keep him.
It felt strange to feel that way, something he’d tried to shed, the need to be wanted. It came over him now, though, worse every time he was with Nate because Nate made him feel like it was possible. Like Nate did want him. Like Nate…almost wanted him in spite of knowing the truth.
Of course, for that Ewan would have to tell him the truth.
Nate saw his expression and smiled apologetically. “I didn’t plan for this. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ewan mumbled. “You’re being a good uncle.”
And he meant it. Because this? Was Nate being a good man, again, a good person. And that didn’t make him a shitty Dom, not in the least. He cared, and he wanted you to know that he cared. Even if it meant that later he’d flog Ewan until he cried.
Especially if he did that.
Ewan kissed the tip of Nate’s nose. “I can wait,” he said, and he even almost meant it.
Chapter 11
Nate tried not to think of Cameron as a disruption, or a burden. He wasn’t, not really. Nate gave him chores to do, and he got the hang of the dishwasher pretty quickly. Nate also got in contact with his school to make sure he had his homework. They agreed to treat it as an emergency leave of absence. So long as Cameron got his assignments in, they wouldn’t penalize him for non-attendance. Maybe it was the weight of Nate’s social media presence (or just his wallet) that made that happen, but he didn’t care. So long as Cameron could go back to school after the holidays, it didn’t really matter.
Ewan tolerated Cameron with more patience than Nate had expected. They immediately fell into the roles of annoying younger cousin and snarky older cousin, which was…okay, not the worst. It made Nate feel very weird though. He supposed he should be glad they were getting along. If you could call constant teasing getting along.
And Ewan was being super fucking patient about the invasion of privacy that came with it. Cameron in the house meant no sex—well, limited sex. Nate, who had been making such fucking plans, felt the restriction keenly, and Ewan seemed to as well, taking every opportunity to remind Nate of what he was missing out on.
Ewan came over after work on Wednesday, just followed Nate to the car like a puppy and then into the house. He seemed agitated, anxious about something. Nate watched him scuttle about the kitchen doing nothing of any use for about ten minutes before he gave in.
“Are y
ou okay?”
“I’m fine.” Ewan shrugged a shoulder. “I wanted to, um.”
Nate hooked a hand in Ewan’s jacket and reeling him in. “Tell me.”
It took a moment, but Ewan looked up, eyes gone wide and tense around the corners. “I want to go to the Club.”
Nate froze. Was Ewan tired of waiting? It seemed out of the blue, and he couldn’t quite process it. “What for? Social? Or play?”
“We could just hang out, if you wanted,” Ewan said, looking down. His fingers caught in Nate’s buttons and he fiddled nervously with them. “Or play.”
Nate breathed out, relieved. He’d thought for a second there that Ewan wanted to go without him, and the thought of it was surprisingly awful. “What brought this on?”
Ewan’s nose wrinkled. “It’s been ages since you flogged me,” he said, his voice gone small and mousy.
It was a trick, Nate knew, but he didn’t mind. “I’d love to flog you. In front of people?”
“Not on the stage, but sure.”
“Okay. One flogging. Light or intense?”
“Extra intense,” Ewan begged, a hungry look on his sharp face. “Please.”
“Sure thing.” Nate cocked his head, watching Ewan’s face. “Aftercare?”
This time Ewan didn’t protest, he just looked down. “You could take me home, after.”
“Yeah? To your place?”
Ewan nodded, twisting Nate’s button until it was in danger of coming off. “You could stay over.”
Nate thought about it. Cameron was fifteen. There was no booze in the house. He knew how to dial 911.
“Okay,” Nate said, wondering if this was a terrible idea. “Let’s do that.”
⁂
Except that wasn’t the end of it. Ewan followed Nate upstairs when he went to change, and instead of tucking his hands into Nate’s shirt and flirting with him, he closed the door and sat down on the end of the bed. “Nate,” he said.
It sounded ominous. “Yeah?”
“Did you mean it? When you said we should be exclusive?”
Nate nodded, peeling out of his shirt. “Absolutely.”
“Just for dates, or for other things?”
“Is there someone you want to have sex with?” Nate asked, and Ewan shook his head. “Then exclusive for everything works for me. Unless you like getting drunk at bars and kissing people you don’t know.”
Ewan snorted. “I do like that.”
“You can do that if you want.”
Ewan blinked up at him. “Are you going to?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Ewan frowned. “So, no-one else, then?”
“Yeah.” Nate fished a t-shirt out of a drawer and shrugged into it. “Just you and me. Unless we want to change that, somewhere down the line.”
“Like how?”
“Like if there was a third party we wanted to take to bed with us. Or just play with,” Nate said, kneeling down at Ewan’s feet. It was a reversal, unusual in as much as this was not Nate’s role, but it worked because now Ewan had to meet his eye. “What are you worried about?”
“I don’t want you to sleep with Jonathan Nash,” Ewan said.
“Do you want to sleep with him?”
Ewan’s expression spasmed. “What? No, I…I don’t—”
“What if he let you fuck his boyfriend?” Nate asked, watching Ewan’s face stain red. “What if they invited us to a foursome?”
Ewan swallowed, his tongue skating over his lip. “I mean maybe.”
“Okay.” Nate kissed him, just a peck, though Ewan tried to chase it. “There we go. No sex with anyone else unless we agree to it. Maybe we’ll do something swingerly with Jack and his BF, maybe not. You can make out with strangers in bars. Sounds good.”
“Am I your boyfriend?” Ewan asked.
Fuck, he sounded so anxious, and Nate reached up to run his fingers through all that thick, sandy hair. “I want you to be. Do you want to?”
Ewan shook his head, his mouth weak and open. “I don’t know. I don’t want to…” He pressed his mouth closed for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to put his thoughts in order. “It’s okay if it’s just play, or sex, or…but you’re so nice to me and I forget I can’t trust you.”
It went through Nate like a needle, stabbing him somewhere in the chest. “Why can’t you trust me? Fuck, Ewan, what have I done?”
“It’s not you it’s just…” Ewan swallowed hard, opening his eyes, and they were too shiny, glistening and worrying. “I need you to hurt me, and I have to trust you to do it, but I can’t trust you to…if I trust you then I’ll get attached and when you’re sick of me I’ll…I don’t want to break like that again.”
He looked small and vulnerable, and Nate wanted to just hug him up close but instead he stroked Ewan’s shoulder, just enough physical contact to soothe but not so much it could constrain him.
“Who broke you before?
Ewan shook his head. “It’s not important.”
“It’s important if it means you think you can’t trust me,” Nate insisted. “Tell me what happened.”
Ewan bit his lip, his shoulders slumping, and then— “His name was Gary.”
⁂
They met at a party. Gary told Ewan he was too soft for him, and Ewan had taken that as a challenge. It escalated quickly, as Gary tried to find Ewan’s limits. Except Ewan didn’t think he had any limits, and refused to admit when he didn’t like something, or when it went too far. He’d tell Gary he loved it, and Gary accepted this, got off on it, took Ewan deeper than he’d thought he wanted to go.
The thing was, Ewan did love it, loved it best when Gary pushed him too hard, too fast. He’d thought love was giving the other person what they wanted, even if you didn’t want it yourself. He’d thought service came from sufferance.
And he wasn’t completely wrong. Gary had been selfish but not a total arsehole. He’d given Ewan a collar and a meaning in life, and Ewan had been devoted to him, willing to do anything to please him, in bed or out of it.
“He took me to parties and lent me out to his friends,” Ewan said, his expression blank. “I didn’t mind. I liked sex, and I wanted…to feel used. They weren’t awful about it. Sometimes they’d fuck me one after the other. Gary always made them use a condom, but he never did. I liked belonging to him.” He blinked. “One time it was a bloke I’d never met before. I thought he was just one of Gary’s mates but after…he’d paid a hundred quid for it, and Gary laughed like it was fucking hilarious. And it was. I felt worthless. It felt so good to feel like that, like nothing could be my fault because I was just nothing.”
And then one day Gary had told Ewan he’d got a job in Norway, and he was leaving Ewan behind. He’d taken Ewan’s collar and left, and Ewan had felt like his world was tearing apart at the seams.
“I didn’t have anything that wasn’t his. He left me the flat but the rent was…I didn’t have a job. My job was keeping Gary happy. And his mates offered to help me out. One of them said he’d move in, take care of me. Be my sugar daddy,” Ewan said, baring his teeth. “So I moved into a squat with a school friend who was still talking to me. Got my SQC. Got into university. Got an exchange scholarship to Berkeley. I’m a diversity candidate,” he added, sounding venomous. “Can you fucking believe it?”
“How old were you?” Nate asked, unable to help himself because the math involved was horribly suggestive.
“Old enough,” Ewan said. “Gary was a bastard but he wasn’t a fucking bastard.”
Nate swallowed the sad rage gathering in his throat. Gary was a fucking asshole and if Nate ever got his hands on him…he’d do whatever Ewan wanted, and no more. Which meant, probably, nothing at all.
It all lodged in Nate’s brain like burrs, the words irrevocable. This asshole had hurt Ewan, and it wasn’t even the things he’d done to him in play, or the bleeding into 24/7, or the fact that Ewan had been too young to know what he was getting into, or that the guy had groomed him into th
e lifestyle. It was that he’d left Ewan alone at the end of it, had created a slave in exactly the image he wanted and then thrown him away like he was truly nothing at all.
Which would have been fine, if that was Ewan’s kink.
It was clear how much it wasn’t.
Nate stroked Ewan’s hair, so angry and so sad he could barely speak. “I’m not going to do that to you,” he promised.
“I’d be a fucking fool to let you,” Ewan said, his face contorting, and Nate leaned in to press his brow to Ewan’s, holding him there until Ewan gave in, wrapping his arms around Nate’s neck and clinging to him, his body shaking in tiny shudders as he resolutely did not cry.
Nate kissed his hair. “I won’t do that to you,” he promised. “I won’t give you a collar and not mean it. I won’t abandon you.”
He meant it. There was no way he was going to end up the same kind of asshole as that.
He wouldn’t do that to himself. And he could never, ever, do that to Ewan.
Chapter 12
Am I making a mistake?
Ewan stared at the reflection in the mirror, willing it to speak to him. Come on, you stupid bastard. What the fuck am I doing?
Mirror-Ewan bit its lip but offered no insight. Useless baggage. Ewan smoothed some cream over his palms, slicking it through his hair until it stuck out in messy spikes. The more it looked like he’d just crawled out of the bed the better, he figured. There was black around his eyes already, a little translucent gloss on his mouth to make it shine.
He looked debauchable. Hopefully Nate would agree.
His checked his phone—his Uber was almost here. On my way, he texted, trying to quiet the fluttering of his stomach.
The driver dropped him off next door to the club building, and Ewan waited until it had vanished down the street before going in. Nate had offered to drive him but Ewan wanted that feeling of walking into the Club, looking around, seeing Nate there all dangerous and intimidating and walking up to him to claim him.
