“Ask him if you can come along. He’ll invite you too. I’m sure he just wasn’t thinking,” Damian said.
“I couldn’t,” Derek said, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
Ashley emerged from the makeup room, saying “Nick said yes, if you’re okay with it, Ian, and Markie can’t come, so it’ll be just us three.”
“Four,” Damian said. “I invited Derek.”
“Oh. All right then,” Ashley said nervously.
“Excuse me. I need to speak to Nick,” Damian said, basely abandoning the other two to work things out for themselves.
Nick came out of the makeup room, considerably less shiny and buttoning up one of his atrocious shirts, still wearing the collar.
Damian grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the office, locking the door behind them. “You’re still wearing it.”
“I didn’t think you’d like it if you put it on and I let Gabe take it off,” Nick responded nervously.
“Good instincts, pet.” Damian’s fingers stroked over the leather. “I think we’ll leave it on for a while.”
“You mean, I’m to go to a restaurant wearing a collar?” Nick’s voice rose uncertainly.
“Yes, that’s precisely what I mean. I will enjoy knowing that you’re wearing it under your shirt, where no one else can see it. A sign of my ownership.” Damian slowly buttoned the boy’s shirt all the way to the top, patting his chest when he was finished. “Let’s go.”
Nick wanted to check to see if the collar was showing, but Damian didn’t allow him any time for that. He simply unlocked the door and pushed Nick out ahead of him. Ashley and Derek were waiting by the outer door, so the young man had no chance to ask any questions, like, was he still under Damian’s control?
Nick decided to be safe rather than sorry later, so he went with yes.
Chapter 8
THE RESTAURANT that Ashley chose was expensive and good. The food was excellent and the two older men spent time over the wine list, choosing a different one to go with each course.
Even if he hadn’t been wearing the collar, Nick would have been on his best behavior, subdued by the elegance of his surroundings. And yet the restaurant was comfortable, just noisy enough to not feel conspicuous if one laughed out loud and the wait staff were friendly and prompt. It was a relief for once, to have someone waiting on him. Unbeknownst to him, the restaurant was part of the club that Ashley belonged to, explaining the high quality of service.
The atmosphere was soothing and luxurious. Even Derek and Ashley seemed to relax a little with each other, speaking civilly and taking part in the conversation.
Ashley, however, noticed that the dangerous glint in Damian’s eyes had increased, rather than diminished. He was wondering if the other two had had a squabble, but Nick seemed to be most attentive, watching the photographer for approval.
Then Ashley realized that in spite of the baggy pants and incredibly ugly shirt, Nick’s beauty was attracting no little attention from the other guests. Men and women alike were watching Nick, recognizing him as an inexperienced sub, and Damian didn’t like it one bit. Ashley was wondering what Damian was going to do about that, because he wasn’t the kind of man to let that kind of threat go.
In fact, Damian was fuming. Everything seemed to be rubbing him the wrong way that day: first Ashley offering Nick the collar, the misunderstanding over Mistress Bettie, and now the older man at another table who had met his eyes more than once, staring insolently at him in a clear challenge. The older dominant emanated a subtle aura of power and he made it obvious that he wanted Nick. A young man of Nick’s age, impressionable, just starting to take a few tentative steps into this lifestyle, could be blind to the real dangers that lurked out there, and Damian wanted to keep him from that. But most of all, Damian meant to show that man and anyone else that they were not going to simply take his boy away from him.
When Nick went to the restroom, he went alone, declining Derek’s offer to accompany him; he never had been able to pee when people were watching him. He was amazed by the elegance of the restroom. It was lined with gleaming marble, dark and masculine. There were mini halogen lights suspended over each trendy vessel sink, making the glass sparkle, and real linen towels. Nick was washing his hands when Damian came in, catching his reflection in the glass. His smile faded when he saw Damian lock the outer door behind him.
Damian’s eyes glittered dangerously at Nick’s questioning look. He stepped up behind him and slid his hands under the boy’s shirt, stroking his supple skin.
“I don’t like how people are looking you, pet. I’m going to put my mark on you,” Damian growled.
“Huh?” was Nick’s highly intelligent reply. He was completely unprepared for the other man’s possessive attitude. “No one was looking at me.”
“Shut up. Take down your pants. I’m going to mark you as mine.”
Nick squeaked and held onto his belt, fighting Damian for possession of it. “Here? Everyone will hear. They’ll know!”
“I want them to know,” Damian said, winning the wrestling match for the belt as was inevitable that he would.
“London!” Nick gasped. “London!”
Damian stopped, his eyes clearing as he noticed how terrified Nick looked. After a long minute, he pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you’d like it.” He rubbed his hand ruefully over Nick’s back, feeling the boy’s heart pounding against his chest. “You’re trembling. It’s okay. I’m not going to do it.”
Nick laughed weakly and pushed himself away to look into Damian’s eyes. “I guess I can trust you.”
Damian cupped his chin. “You can. That wasn’t brilliant of me, but if you found out for sure you can trust me, it wasn’t totally in vain.”
Nick smiled and asked in a small voice, “Were people really looking at me?”
“They weren’t just looking; they want you,” Damian growled, his ire rising again at the thought of someone taking his boy.
“And you want to mark me?” Nick asked, tilting his head and smiling provocatively.
Damian was stunned; his boy was teasing him? “Let’s not forget who’s boss here, pet,” he threatened.
“I was just thinking, you could mark me a different way,” Nick said. “Give me a hickey.”
Damian stared at him and started to laugh. “Why you little… I will give you one, just to teach you. You’ll regret stealing my thunder, you scamp.”
Nick started to giggle. “Scamp? Is that a time-honored title for a sub?”
“No, but you are one,” Damian said. He pulled Nick closer and unbuttoned his shirt, opening it and turning his boy to face the mirror, pressing Nick back against his chest. “You’re my scamp and I don’t mean to let you forget it.”
Nick watched Damian’s hands roaming possessively over his body, cupping his groin and coming up to tug meaningfully on the collar exposed now that his shirt was open.
“Mine,” Damian growled. He thumbed Nick’s nipples as he bent to bite the tender throat right above the collar. He sucked furiously, making a mark that would last for several days. When he was finished, he raised his head to inspect the wet red bite mark in the mirror, taking in Nick’s dazed eyes and parted lips as he panted softly.
Damian spun the boy in his arms and bit his chest, just above his right nipple, leaving another sign. “Now you’re marked as mine. And everyone out there will know it. Return to the table after you button up.”
With that he grabbed the boy’s hair, pulling him closer, and kissed Nick bruisingly hard, not giving him a kiss so much as demanding possession of his mouth. And then he was gone.
Nick looked after Damian in a trance, wondering what had just happened between them. For sure, it had been interesting. And he felt infinitely relieved that he’d been able to stop Damian, merely by using his safe word.
He buttoned up, noticing that the mark Damian had sucked on his neck peeked over the collar of his shirt. He drew a
finger over his swollen lips in wonder that he could arouse that passion of possessiveness.
Damian returned to the table wearing a feral grin that put Ashley on alert. He was having so much fun watching Dominant Damian come out to play that he hadn’t even quarreled once with Derek during the time they’d been left alone at the table.
Damian watched with pride as certain persons in the room recognized the mark of ownership he’d set upon Nick’s neck, watching him weave his way through the tables. There was acknowledgment of his claim and the one Dom who’d challenged Damian discreetly lifted his glass in capitulation.
Ashley noticed the slightly bewildered look and reddened lips, and watched to see whether Nick winced as he dropped to his chair. As he didn’t, Ashley concluded that something different than he anticipated had happened in the restroom. He was dying to ask, but he knew that Damian would never tell him.
Derek’s eyes flicked between the other three men. He recognized the look of a successful hunter on Damian’s face, the confused lust on Nick’s, but what surprised him most was the expression of longing in Ashley’s eyes when the older man looked at him. He smiled tentatively and wondered if perhaps he’d been too hasty in refusing a spanking from the handsome man.
NERVOUSLY NICK followed Damian upstairs to the studio when Ashley had dropped them off after dinner, driving away with a rather silent Derek beside him. Nick and Damian were quiet as well, the tension between them simmering just below the surface.
Baulked of his intention to mark Nick in the restroom at the restaurant, Damian was determined to possess him tonight. It was all very well to leave a hickey and growl mine, but he wished to take what no other man before him had enjoyed. It annoyed him that he was unable to control his own impulses, but he pushed the thought away.
“Go to the makeup room. Wait for me,” Damian commanded tersely.
Nick was beginning to realize that he was not going to get off with a mere hickey. Tonight Damian was determined to mark him in some more visible way. He felt a thrill of fear, not knowing exactly what Damian had planned for him, but knowing that he was going to be feeling something different on his arse tonight. He started when Damian reappeared in the doorway.
“Follow me.”
Nick walked meekly behind Damian into the office, realizing that all of their scenes had so far taken place here. He wondered if he would ever see Damian’s home, and concluded that probably the older man didn’t want him prying into his private life. For some reason that thought upset him and he kept his eyes down, so that Damian couldn’t see the sudden tears he was trying to hide.
“Hands behind your back. Choose two.”
Nick surveyed the desk, where Damian had laid out a selection of implements. He shuddered; so far Damian had used only his hand. Now he was asking Nick to select from a crop, a whip, a strap, something with two tails, a paddle, and what he now knew was called a flogger. He shivered, wondering how each one would feel connecting with his arse.
“I don’t have all day. Choose or I’ll choose for you,” Damian said sharply.
Hesitantly, Nick asked, “May I point, sir?”
Realizing the boy didn’t know the names of everything, Damian said, “You may.”
The younger man pointed to the tawse and the crop.
“Good choices,” Damian said maliciously. “You’ll be feeling this for several days. You’ll be eating your breakfast standing up.”
Nick wondered what had happened to the man who had held him in the restroom, apologizing for scaring him.
“Pants down. Bend over,” Damian ordered. “You’re going to feel this tomorrow and the marks may last a couple of days.”
Hesitantly, Nick undid his pants, pushing them down to his knees, and bent over, feeling that his arse made far too conspicuous a target. He was nervous and his mouth was dry.
“Grab your ankles.”
Nick bent further and grabbed his ankles, feeling a twinge of discomfort in his hip. He tensed up, uncomfortably conscious that in this position, his cheeks were stretched to the point that his hole must be clearly visible to Damian.
He felt Damian place the crop on his backside, just touching it, as if trying to get the range. Suddenly his hip was seized with pain, and he let out a groan.
“Nick? Nicky!”
The young man dropped to his hands and knees, panting, with his head dropped to the carpet, trying not to scream with the pain.
Damian dropped the crop and knelt beside Nick in alarm, running a soothing hand over the trembling back. “What is it, babe? I didn’t even touch you!”
“My hip,” Nick groaned. “Muscle spasm.”
“Oh fuck,” Damian muttered. “Can you move?”
“No.” Nick gasped in pain.
“Okay, sweetheart. You just hang on. I’ll do all the moving; you just let me take control.”
Damian couldn’t tell whether Nick could even hear him; he was panting and sweat was pouring off him as he shivered, frozen in place on his hands and knees.
Damian ran for a blanket from the studio, spreading it over the leather of the couch. Then he gently lifted Nick’s body, straightening his back. He got the young man to his feet and lifted him in his arms, carrying him to the couch, laying him down on the unscarred side.
He hurried to the kitchen, nuking a microwavable heating pad and snatched up a towel while he waited for it to be ready.
He ran back to the office, wincing as he saw Nick’s shoulders shuddering as if he was crying. “Where does it hurt?”
“Scar,” Nick moaned. It was becoming harder to keep the tears in and he didn’t ever want to cry in front of Damian. He wanted Damian to think he was brave, even though he knew he wasn’t.
Damian put the towel over Nick’s hip and laid the heating pad on it carefully. Nick let his breath out on a low moan. Damian rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.
“Take it easy, babe. Try to relax.”
“I’m sorry—” Nick began, almost sobbing.
“Shhh, calm down, take deep breaths. Your hip will feel better if you can relax.”
“Is that an order, sir?” Nick whimpered.
Damian was startled, and then he laughed, unable to believe that Nick could still crack a joke when he was in such pain.
“Yeah, it’s an order.” He went to his private bathroom and got some lotion, warming it on his hands. He pushed up the ugly shirt and started to massage Nick’s lower back edging toward his hip, finding the knots of tension and working them out. He continued to stroke down the curve of the younger man’s hip, moving the heating pad and towel. The skin along the scar was hot from the pad and Damian dug his fingers in gently, listening to the gasps and moans as he loosened the tight muscles.
Nick sagged in relief and his fists unclenched as Damian’s hands worked their magic, releasing him from the prison of his rigid muscles.
Damian backed off on the pressure, merely stroking the slender back gently, offering what comfort he could to the boy. He heard the sigh of relief as Nick sagged even deeper into the couch.
“Okay, babe?”
“Yeah, I—I’m okay,” Nick said shakily. He tried to push himself up but Damian’s hand kept him pressed to the couch.
“Does this happen often? Do you have any pain pills?”
“Not too often. I have pills at my flat,” Nick said in an exhausted voice.
“Would you trust me with your keys so I can go and get them?” Damian asked anxiously.
“No, I’ll just go home. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“I’ll take you home. Let’s get you dressed. Let me do all the work; don’t try to sit up by yourself. You might tweak it again,” Damian ordered.
Nick was feeling rather limp and he was more than happy to allow Damian to maneuver his pants up. Damian hoisted him to his feet and slid an arm around his waist. How he managed the doors and locks, Nick didn’t know; he was too out of it to take notice.
The next thing he knew Damian had buckled him into his car a
nd was getting in the other side.
“Nick? Nicky? I need to know where you live.”
Nick rested his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes wearily. He hadn’t had an attack this bad in a long time. He managed to give his address before lapsing into a dazed state.
When he felt Damian searching his pockets for his keys, Nick realized the car had stopped.
“Right front pocket,” he whispered.
Damian found the keys and got out, locking the car. He hated leaving Nick there alone in a neighborhood renowned for being very seedy. From the look of the building it was unlikely that there was an elevator, and even though he was strong and fit he didn’t fancy carrying Nick up an unknown number of stairs.
He found Nick’s name on the mailbox and ran up the stairs two at a time, puffing by the time he reached the fourth floor. His instinct was right; he was not going to be carrying Nick up four stories. If worse came to worst, he would take the boy home with him.
He unlocked the door and stopped, appalled by the poverty that made the tiny flat cold and ugly. It was only a single room, with a bed and a tiny bathroom. No place to prepare food, no luxuries. Apparently Nick did not own a TV or radio, although he had a laptop. And he was a slob. Clothing covered every surface, mingled with books and papers.
Damian’s lips tightened; now was not the time, but he would make sure Nick changed that or they would never be able to live together in harmony. Fuck! Where had that come from?
Damian stood motionless in shock as he worried exactly when he’d decided that Nick would be moving in with him. Then he remembered that he had left the semi-conscious young man in the car and resumed his search. At least Nick had left his pills in a sensible spot, in the medicine cabinet.
Damian locked the door behind him and leaped down the stairs. He was relieved to see his car intact and Nick apparently asleep.
He got in quietly and started the car. Nick’s head rolled to the side and he opened his eyes to slits. “Find them?”
Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits Page 12