by R. J. Moray
“We could go, if you’re done,” Nate said, pulling out his phone. “Or there’s shibari out the back, if you want to see.”
“Shibari sounds good.”
Ewan let himself be snuggled up in the blanket again, and shepherded out the back to the display stages. Someone was untying a rope bunny. Someone else was tying up a rope bunny. Ewan tuned out of both, with Nate draped over his shoulders like a second blanket. He felt too fuzzy and too good to pay attention to anything, only vaguely seeing the rope latticed over a muscular body on stage. It was attractive, but he was too aware of Nate’s proximity, of the heat pouring off him and the pressure of his arms. Ewan sunk into them, just existing, absorbing him. Nate kissed his head. Ewan closed his eyes.
He opened them again when he felt Nate tugging at him. “Hey. You falling asleep?”
“Mmmph.”
“Wanna go home?”
“You should watch your show,” Ewan mumbled.
“We can just go,” Nate murmured in his ear, and then he kissed the shell of it.
“No, I gotta,” and Ewan pulled himself away with an effort. He shrugged out of the blanket and shoved it into Nate’s arms. “Use the loo,” he said, and Nate smiled, and ruffled his hair.
The light in the bathroom was too bright. Ewan washed his face, feeling his ass throb under his pants. The Ewan in the mirror looked back at him, red-eyed and puffy.
And so fucking happy.
This was what he’d wanted. Nate had given him all of it, and hadn’t held back. He wanted Nate to fuck him into oblivion but not…not tonight. Tonight he wanted Nate to curl around him and whisper ‘goodnight’ in his ear and just be…nice to him.
And he could have that, if he asked for it.
When he went out, Nate was leaning against the wall of the corridor, tapping away on his phone. He smiled when Ewan looked up, reaching out a hand to curl his fingers in a come-hither.
Ewan went thither, and let Nate tug him in.
“Home now?”
“Stay the night with me,” Ewan begged. “Not for sex, just stay.”
Nate squeezed his hand hard. “Sure,” he said, and his smile was soft as he pulled Ewan toward the exit.
Ewan felt untethered. He dozed in the car, daydreaming through memories of Nate’s hands on him, so gentle between the lashes. Each cut of the whip had felt immediate, and permanent. Ewan knew the marks would fade with time, but maybe he could get Nate to lay new ones over them as they faded.
Pressure on his knee made him look down. Nate was squeezing him gently. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Want something to eat?”
Ewan shook his head. “Just…home.”
So Nate took him home. He undressed Ewan carefully, kissing over his skin as he peeled Ewan’s clothes away, so fucking gentle now it was like Ewan was made of glass. But Ewan didn’t mind. He felt full, overripe, like he might burst if Nate handled him roughly, on the edge of collapse.
“Shower,” Nate said, and then helped Ewan into it.
“You,” Ewan demanded, clutching at Nate’s shirt and tugging. So Nate stripped off and got in with him, soaping him up with smooth strokes of his hands, rinsing him down meticulously. “You did this once,” Ewan said, the memory hovering on the edge of things. “When I was sick.”
“You needed it,” Nate said, sounding fond. “Is that okay?”
Everything is okay, Ewan thought, but he nodded, running his fingers through the golden hair on Nate’s chest.
Everything was. Dry and clean, with Nate curled up along his spine and Nate’s breath in the hair at the nape of his neck, Ewan felt the ever-present worry and fear go silent, just flickering shadows in the back of his mind. For now it was quiet and safe, and he could trust Nate to take care of him.
Just for a little while.
Chapter 13
“I thought you were going to fuck me!”
Nate smacked Ewan sharply on the ass. “No bratting today.”
“I’m thousands of miles from home,” Ewan whined, pouting like a monster. He was wearing reindeer boxer shorts and nothing else, wriggling about on Nate’s bed like an octopus and being far too noisy for this hour of the morning. “I’m practically an orphan. It’s Christmas. I deserve cock.”
“You deserve to be locked in a cage while the rest of us eat pork and potatoes,” Nate said mildly, pulling a sweater out of the wardrobe.
“Do you have a cage?” Ewan asked, perking up visibly.
Nate smiled. He didn’t. Yet. “You’ll find out, eventually.”
Ewan scowled. Then— “Don’t. Wear the blue one.”
Nate looked down at the sweater in his hands. It was red with white trim. “Blue isn’t very Christmassy,” he said.
“I like the blue one,” Ewan insisted, pouting again.
God, he was being so bratty. Nate put the sweater down and then lunged for him. Ewan squealed and tried to fight him off, but Nate wrestled him onto the mattress and pinned him there, chest down with his face mashed into the covers.
“Behave yourself,” Nate warned, tightening his grip on Ewan’s wrist. Ewan swore, and tried to buck him off, but Nate just twisted until he yelped in pain. “Ewan,” he said warningly.
Ewan stilled, and then he went limp, letting Nate shove him firmly into the mattress. Nate pressed him down, covering him with his body and letting his weight pin Ewan in place. He had Ewan’s ass jammed up against his hips, and took advantage of this to rut firmly against him, hard enough for Ewan to know exactly what he was threatening.
“You wouldn’t like it if I fucked you now,” he said. Ewan shuddered, head to toe, and Nate knew Ewan was thinking that yeah, he would like it. “I’m not in the mood to lube you up, or let you come. I’d just come in you and shove in a plug for you to sit on all day.”
Ewan made a high-pitched sound in his throat, quivering violently. He did want it, Nate was sure, and for a moment the temptation of it poured over him like a fog.
But then there was a thump downstairs and the sudden blare of music over the living room sound system, and Nate stifled a sigh.
“Be good,” Nate said, his lips brushing Ewan’s ear, “and I’ll let you suck me off later.”
Ewan made a muffled protest, and Nate bit the lobe of his ear, hard. “Yes,” he gasped, writhing. “I’ll be good.”
“Yeah?” Nate bit him again. “You’re going to set a good example? And then wait for cock like a good boy?”
Ewan made a needy sound. “Yes, Sir. I promise.”
“Good.” Nate climbed off him, and swapped the red sweater for his favorite blue one, which was, it seemed, also Ewan’s favorite. He handed the red sweater to Ewan. “Wear this for me, so I know you remember.”
Ewan flushed red, but he did as he was told.
Downstairs, Cameron was eating chocolate and watching YouTube videos on mute while Christmas polka music blared out of the speakers. Nate turned it down from his phone, smirking at the betrayed look Cameron sent his way.
“Is that your breakfast?” Nate demanded. “You don’t want bacon?”
“I want bacon!” Cameron protested.
“Then you can come help,” Nate told him, and when Ewan smirked at Cameron’s groan he gave Ewan a gentle push toward the kitchen. “You too.”
God, it was like herding cats. Cats who couldn’t cook to save their lives.
Eventually, though, they had coffee, bacon and eggs, hash browns, fried tomato and mushroom, and baked beans, which Nate and Cameron were pretty skeptical about but Ewan had insisted on. And the toast was only a bit burnt, in the end.
“What time are your parents getting here?” Nate asked, though he knew the answer.
Cameron shrugged. “Eleven? I think.”
“Do you want to wait to open presents?”
Cameron looked horrified. “No! That’s two hours away!”
“What about you, Ewan?”
Ewan’s chin jerked up. He frowned, clearly conflicted, and then— “It’s polite to wait,
” he said, reluctant, and Cameron blew out a breath, clearly betrayed.
“It would be polite.” Nate enjoyed Cam’s dismay for a few delightful moments, before adding, “but I don’t see why we can’t open one each.”
“Yes! I want to open this one!” And Cameron bounced out of his chair to fetch a gold-wrapped box from under the tree, and then had to go back because Nate made him get one for everyone.
Cameron tore into his eagerly. “Yes!” He pulled out a pair of white sneakers that Nate thought looked indistinguishable from nearly all other white sneakers, but which his nephew was clearly in love with. “Thank-you! This is awesome!”
“Yeah, it should be,” Nate said dryly. “I mean, you emailed me your wish-list months ago.”
“So it’s not a surprise,” Ewan said, curling the corner of his mouth into a sneer. “Is that how you do it?”
“There were about fifty things on the list, though,” Nate said, reaching out to tug Ewan’s sleeve gently. “So it’s still a surprise.”
Ewan sniffed, only a little mollified, and let Nate encourage him to open his.
When he did, his face did this marvelous twitchy thing, like he was trying not to react. “What is it?”
“Original Kanegon vinyl figure,” Cameron said, leaning over and poking the packaging. “Used, but there’s this guy who prints, um, custom boxes for them? Like it’s not mint, but…he looks nice in there.”
“He looks like a crab man with a clam for a head and stalk-eyes,” Ewan said, still staring at it.
“If you don’t like it,” Cameron said, his voice rising as he tried to snatch the box out of Ewan’s hands, but Ewan yanked it out of reach, curling around it defensively.
“I love it, are you crazy? He has a clam for a head, for fuck’s sake!”
Nate grinned, peeling open the wrapping on his own present. The figurine had been his idea, but Cameron had picked which one and organized the custom box, though he’d let Nate pay. Nate had another Christmas present for Ewan upstairs, which was not for public opening.
The one from Ewan, though, was wrapped in delicate indigo tissue paper, spangled with silver stars and tied with ribbon. Nate opened it carefully, though he could guess what it was—the shape was a dead giveaway, and he was only surprised by the cover.
“A book? Is that a used book?” Cameron looked disappointed.
“You gave me a used toy,” Ewan scoffed, but there was color in his cheeks that said he wasn’t nearly as confident about it as he was pretending.
“Yeah, but you’re not my boyfriend.”
Nate looked up from The Last of the Wine, catching Ewan’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “Thank-you. It means a lot to me.”
Ewan was blushing. Nate kissed him, just a peck on the cheek, and Cameron pretended not to be looking so there was really no need for Ewan to go completely crimson.
He looked…happy. Nate found it gratifying to see, so he kissed Ewan again until Ewan squirmed with embarrassment and slithered away to pick up their breakfast dishes and stack them in the washer to cover it.
“You ready for your parents?” Nate asked Cameron quietly.
Cameron nodded, looking determined. “Yeah. Mom’s still…I mean, she’s still mad. But she’s not going to ground me forever, anymore, and I don’t have to change schools. And there’s no pray-the-gay-away camp, so thank fuck for that.”
“Well, if you need to run away again, you can always just call me to come get you.”
Cameron grinned, tilting his head up from where he was busily lacing up his new shoes. “Can I run away in the summer? Can we go surfing?”
“We’ll see,” Nate said, and sent Cameron for more coffee.
Cameron insisted board games were traditional at Christmas, so they played Settlers of Catan on the floor until Nate had to start getting lunch on—not that there was much to do. Everything was pre-prepared, he just had to warm it up or, in the case of the roast, put it in the oven. He opened a bottle of syrah to breathe, and then his sister was there, with her husband and Cam’s little sister Charlotte.
Charlotte at least was immediately happy to see him, and pounced on her brother demanding an explanation of why he got to skip school and stay with Uncle Nate when she didn’t.
Katie looked grim. She gave him a stiff hug and peck on the cheek. Denis shook his hand. Both of them stared at Ewan, who was lounging on the couch and only stood up when Nate arched an eyebrow at him.
“Denis, Katie, Charlotte, this is Ewan McKinney.”
Denis looked confused, but shook Ewan's hand anyway. Katie stared at him as if he had horns, and Nate could see Ewan physically restrain himself from baring his teeth at her.
“You remember, Katie? I mentioned I was seeing someone.”
She cleared her throat, very pale. “Yes, of course. I…very nice to meet you.”
“Can we open presents?” Charlotte asked, lifting up a bag full of bright packages. “I made fudge with Nanna! I’ve got spare,” she added, digging into it to grab a little pink cellophane-wrapped lump which she offered to Ewan. “It’s gluten-free,” she added, as if that was the reason he hesitated.
“Thank-you,” he said. “That’s…very kind.”
“Are you gluten intolerant, Mr McKinney?” Katie asked, desperately trying to make small talk.
“No,” Ewan said, looking as awkward as they all felt.
It was about as good as it could get. “Presents, then?” Nate prompted. “Cam, you can hand mine out, if you like.”
Lunch turned out pretty well, in the end. Nate silently thanked the future they lived in where he could just pay someone to prepare food for him to cook. (He’d also dropped a donation in at the headquarters for Santa Rita’s secular shelter network, so he could eat his stupidly lazy lunch without feeling too guilty about it.)
Katie defrosted over the afternoon, and was almost civil to Ewan by the time they left. Denis, on the other hand, had drawn him into a debate about soccer, which Nate hadn’t known either of them cared about.
(”I don’t,” Ewan said later. “But it’s inescapable, like golf and cricket.”)
Denis seemed generally pleased to have his son back, and not at all unhappy to be staying in a hotel in Santa Rita tonight at Nate’s expense. “At least we didn’t have to visit anyone’s parents this year,” he said, rolling his eyes. Nate had always liked that about Denis, how much he disliked Nate’s dad and his own mother equally.
“Thanks, Uncle Nate,” Cameron said, flinging his arms around Nate’s neck and hugging him. “You’re awesome.” And then Charlotte had to as well, babbling thanks for her new hockey stick and skates.
“Well, we’ll get out of your hair,” Katie said, smiling with her mouth but not her eyes. Nate wrote it off as the best he was going to get, and wished her a merry Christmas.
When they were gone, he found Ewan in the kitchen stacking the dishwasher again. “You’re being very well behaved.”
Ewan smirked, tilting his head to glance back at Nate over his shoulder. “Someone promised me a reward if I was good.”
“That’s true.” Nate tucked Ewan under his chin, folding both arms around his ribcage. “I guess you’re wondering where your Christmas present has got to.”
Ewan jerked away, surprised. “I thought you…your name was on the kaiju figure.”
“Yeah, but that was mostly Cameron.” Nate reeled him in, ducking his head to peck Ewan’s cheek. “Do you want your present?”
Ewan’s eyes narrowed. “I want to say yes, but I think I’m going to regret it if I do.”
“Probably,” Nate agreed. “Do you want it anyway?”
Ewan bit his lip, but then he cut Nate a darkly stubborn look, laced with something greedy. “Yes. Please?”
“It’s upstairs on the bed. Wait for me,” and he smacked Ewan’s ass hard enough to make him yelp.
Ewan scowled at him, though it looked mostly fake, and then bounced off, his footsteps thudding on the stairs.
The dishes
were done, the lights on the Christmas tree blinking away, Cameron safely home with his parents who were hopefully not going to make his life too miserable, and Ewan was upstairs, barefoot, already committing himself to something he was definitely going to try to talk his way out of when it happened.
Nate breathed out, overwhelmed by how good it felt. Things were falling into place, exactly the way he wanted.
There was just one last thing.
⁂
The present was gift-boxed, matte-black, flat and square. There was a red satin ribbon around it, the bow luxuriously huge. Ewan felt uncomfortable just looking at something so Instagram perfect.
It fit Nate, and his whole Instagram life. Even his bedroom was minimalist rustic chic with textured throws and layers, and Ewan felt a mess in it, like his very presence was a discordant note that pushed everything out of phase.
Well, fuck it. Nate brought him here. Nate wanted him here. Nate could deal with what he’d bought with all his interference. Ewan wasn’t going anywhere.
Still, he waited for Nate, flopped out on the bed and messing up the covers just for something to do. When Nate came in he looked soft in the light of the bedside lamp, too handsome to be real.
“You waited.”
Ewan scowled at him, but his heart wasn’t in it. “You told me to.”
“And you listened. It’s a Christmas miracle.” He picked up the present and held it in both palms, watching Ewan with a small smile that made things happen in Ewan’s gut. “So, I should preface this with what it’s not. It’s not permanent,” he said, and Ewan stiffened, suddenly painfully aware of what was in that box. He’d known, really, if he was honest. He’d just chosen not to think about it. Nate’s smile ratcheted up a notch and Ewan shivered. “It is important though.”
Nate offered it to him. Ewan sat up to pull the ribbon and lift the lid and there. Black leather with black-metal studs and three D rings on the front and sides. It was heavy but not bulky, strong enough to restrain him but light enough he could pass it off as cosmetic, if he wanted, just an aesthetic choice. Solid, something he wouldn’t be able to forget he had around his throat, something to remind him of who gave it to him and why.
