Broken Rules

by Michaela Grey

  Sanyam pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his cock, sliding in so swift and sure that he punched the air right out of Sterling’s lungs.

  “One day, kit,” Sanyam said through his teeth. “One day you’ll beg.”

  Sterling half laughed and hooked a heel around Sanyam’s hips, squirming beneath him. “Move.”

  Sanyam bent to kiss him as he obeyed, pulling out and driving home in quick, hard thrusts, establishing a rhythm that made Sterling’s eyes roll back as Sanyam pounded in.

  It didn’t take long for the familiar sparks to gather under his skin, rippling along his nerves with each movement of Sanyam’s hips, and Sterling reached up, grabbing desperately at the bed frame to brace himself.

  “I’m close,” he managed. “Close, San, I’m—”

  Sanyam wrapped one big hand around Sterling’s shaft and stroked once, twice, and Sterling spilled on a choked sob between their bodies, every muscle seizing in the ecstasy that lit him from the inside out.

  He was dimly aware of Sanyam driving deep and stiffening, forehead pressed to Sterling’s chest as he rode out his own orgasm, but Sterling didn’t even have the strength to raise his hand and touch Sanyam’s hair, which was tickling his nose.

  Instead he closed his eyes and drifted, safe and protected by Sanyam’s body wrapped around his.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  HE WOKE up with Sanyam’s arm draped across his waist, heavy with sleep. Sterling lay quietly, watching Sanyam’s face, just a few inches from him on the pillow, but finally the needs of his bladder asserted themselves, and Sterling sighed and freed himself in careful stages.

  He tiptoed to the bathroom and, after, padded out to the living room. Polly was asleep in a ray of late afternoon sun, and she stretched and rolled over, exposing her fluffy belly, as Sterling sat down on the couch beside her.

  Sterling rubbed her stomach absently, and she purred, closing her eyes again, as he bent forward and sorted through the box of glass fragments on the floor beside the coffee table.

  The C was still laid out where he’d put it, and Sterling touched one of the pieces. It needed to be set in some sort of foundation, something that would showcase the colors and the simple elegance of it, but he didn’t have the faintest idea what would work.

  Sanyam’s laptop was off to the side in sleep mode, and Sterling hesitated, chewing on his lip. Surely Sanyam wouldn’t care if he used it.

  WHEN SANYAM came out of the bedroom, hair rumpled and eyes sleepy, Sterling was deep in a dozen opened tabs, making a list on a scrounged piece of paper. He glanced up at the sound of Sanyam’s footsteps.

  “Oh,” he said. “Um… is this okay?”

  Sanyam smiled and sat down beside him. “Of course, kit. What are you looking up?”

  “Mosaic shit,” Sterling said, putting the pen between his teeth. “Trying to figure out how to make this secure so I can give it to Cricket.”

  Sanyam half laughed and leaned his head back against the couch. “Every time you mention your sister’s name, I think you’re talking about the sport.”

  Sterling glanced at him, diverted. “Oh yeah, cricket’s big in India, isn’t it?”

  “Mm. And Britain, of course.”

  “How long were you in England?” Sterling asked.

  Sanyam ran a hand up Sterling’s spine, making him shiver. “For university. Four years. I went home for school holidays, of course, but the rest of the time I was at Oxford.”

  “Did you date while you were there? How did you figure out you liked BDSM stuff?”

  Sanyam smiled, his head still back against the couch. “You remember my boyfriend, the one I mentioned?”

  “Yeah, the homophobic one.”

  Sanyam hummed, slipping his hand under Sterling’s shirt to caress his backbone. “Vivek. He wanted to try it with me, said our sex life was getting boring. It was too much for him, too intense, but I discovered that I—well.” He lifted a shoulder. “I liked it very much indeed.”

  “Have you ever…?” Sterling struggled to remember what he was trying to say as Sanyam’s finger danced up his vertebrae. “Have you ever fallen for a client before?”

  “You are a first for me in many ways, kit,” Sanyam murmured, splaying his hand warm across Sterling’s shoulder. “Come back to bed. Perhaps we can explore some more firsts together.”

  Sterling snorted and put the computer down. “That wasn’t me fishing for compliments,” he said as he stood and extended a hand.

  Sanyam took it. “Not going to stop me from giving them,” he said and towed Sterling toward the bedroom.

  “I WANT to go to the craft store,” Fox said when they were lying in bed after, spent and breathless.

  Sanyam traced the hairs on Fox’s arm where it lay across his stomach. “Is that an invitation, or do you prefer to go alone?”

  Fox shrugged. Other than his arm, they weren’t touching, lying side by side on the bed, and Sanyam tried not to want more.

  “You can come if you like,” Fox said. “Gonna be pretty boring, though.”

  FOX SEEMED to know exactly what he needed. He made a beeline for the adhesives aisle as Sanyam followed more slowly.

  A perky sales associate appeared, blonde ponytail bouncing. “I’m Courtney. Can I help you gentlemen find anything?”

  Sanyam smiled at her as he unwound his scarf. “Hello, Courtney. We’re just here for my—” He faltered. What was Fox to him? Were they boyfriends?

  “Do you have Weldbond?” Fox asked abruptly.

  “Yes, of course!” Courtney chirped. “Follow me.” She set off down the aisle, and Fox hurried to catch up, Sanyam taking his time and inspecting anything that caught his attention.

  When Fox found him, Sanyam was admiring a display of watercolor paints and canvases.

  “Do you paint?” Fox asked.

  “I’ve always wanted to,” Sanyam said, and touched a fine brush. “But somehow I’ve never had the time. Other things occupying me, I suppose. Do you have what you need?”

  Fox glanced at his basket, heaped high with various frames, backing, and adhesive supplies. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Guess I’ll find out.”

  It was dark by the time they set out for home, and Sanyam wanted to take Fox’s hand, but something in the way Fox held himself told him not to try.

  So he walked beside him, their shoulders brushing, and described life in Mumbai, working as a Dom there, and why he’d decided to immigrate to Canada.

  “I miss it,” he admitted, smiling as they passed a little boy holding his mother’s hand. “The noise, the smell—all of it. India is so colorful, so bright and cheerful, wealth and abject poverty cheek by jowl. No one thinks anything of the slums right up against the skyscrapers. And the street food!” He kissed his fingers, and Fox’s lips curved.

  “I’m not a fan of Indian food,” he admitted.

  Sanyam feigned horror. “Not a fan of the best food in the world? What am I going to do with you, kit?”

  Fox’s smile widened. “It’s too spicy.”

  Sanyam clicked his tongue. “For shame. I’ll take you to a good restaurant and teach you the error of your ways soon.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Fox said. “Colby invited us over for dinner next month. It’s his birthday, and he was hoping we could come.”

  “We?” Sanyam said. “Not you?”

  Fox shrugged. “I told him we were… involved. He wants to meet you properly, I think. Dorian and Cricket are invited too. It’s gonna be a whole… thing.”

  “I’d like that,” Sanyam said as they climbed the steps to his apartment. “Colby seems to be a good person. I’d like to get to know him better. What do you think he’d like as a gift?”

  “He’s big into, like… wrestling and shit,” Fox said as Sanyam unlocked the door. “That and Formula 1 racing. Give him a chance, he’ll talk your ear off about either.”

  “Sounds devastatingly boring,” Sanyam said, stepping aside for Fox to enter. “But I will endeavo
r to look interested. What would you like for dinner?”

  “I don’t care,” Fox said. “As long as it doesn’t involve peas.” He took his purchases to the coffee table and settled in as Sanyam huffed a laugh and turned to see what he had in the refrigerator.

  They ate spaghetti carbonara by candlelight, Sanyam watching the play of shadows on Fox’s face as he shoveled pasta in.

  “Have you ever had subs fall in love with you?” Fox asked.

  Sanyam lifted a shoulder, playing with his fork. “I’ve had subs believe they were in love with me. I don’t think they were, but scening creates very intense emotions and can form strong bonds. It has to be handled with care.”

  “Who’s the worst sub you’ve ever had?” Fox said around a mouthful.

  “There was a man a few weeks before I met you, actually,” Sanyam said. “He claimed he wanted to submit, but he… fought me. Ended up punching me, actually.”

  Fox winced.

  “Why do you ask?” Sanyam said.

  “Just curious,” Fox said, shrugging. “Interested in what it entails, what you do during a scene, everything that goes into it. Do you usually follow up with subs when you’re afraid they’re going to drop badly?”

  Sanyam smiled. “You really are special, kit.” Fox ducked his head, a blush staining his cheeks, as Sanyam continued. “Although there was one sub, in India—he intrigued me.”

  Fox glanced up. “What do you mean?”

  “A friend of mine asked me to take him on. His name was Micah, and he was getting over a really bad breakup. My friend—Kali, the one who connected me with Ava here—said that Micah needed to sub, but he couldn’t do it for her, since they’d been involved in the past. So I said of course that I would.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing much, really,” Sanyam said, toying with the pasta on his plate. Micah’s face was vivid in his memory, even though it had been over a year ago—lost eyes filled with bottomless grief, a bold nose, and sensitive lips. “He was obviously not new to subbing, and we did some spanking, a little punishment, but he safeworded before we went further. Ran out of the club.” He smiled at Fox, listening intently. “Kali told me later that he was actually Canadian, when I called her to ask after him. But he lived in Toronto, so I don’t imagine we’ll ever run into him.”

  “Were you… interested in him, romantically?”

  “I think I could have been,” Sanyam admitted. “But he was very obviously in love with someone else. Kali told me, later, that he went back to Toronto and got back together with his ex.”

  Fox just nodded and fed Polly a piece of pasta.

  “Kimi says you’re doing well,” Sanyam said when they were done. “About ready to be turned loose on your own.”

  Fox shrugged. “I guess,” he said, putting his plate in the sink and going back to clear the rest of the table. “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

  “Don’t downplay it,” Sanyam said as he started the water. “It’s your first real service job, and it’s hard as hell to do it well.”

  Fox didn’t answer, but his shoulders eased subtly, and he brushed against Sanyam’s fingers as they began the washing up.

  The rest of the evening passed with Sanyam reading and Fox working on the mosaic for Cricket, muttering under his breath and occasionally out loud to Polly, who watched with rapt attention.

  “Stop squeaking,” he told her at one point. “You’re an embarrassment to cats everywhere.”

  Sanyam laughed to himself and turned the page.

  Later, it was “Maybe I should teach you to play fetch.”

  “She’s a cat, not a dog,” Sanyam said without looking up.

  “Doesn’t mean she can’t be trained,” Fox said.

  “She’s a cat,” Sanyam said, glancing up this time. “Pretty sure that’s exactly what that means.”

  “Your owner knows nothing,” Fox told Polly. “We’ll show him, won’t we? Do you have any bouncy balls, San?”

  “Why on earth would I have bouncy balls?” Sanyam asked, startled.

  Fox waggled his eyebrows, and Sanyam laughed out loud.

  “No, kit, I don’t have bouncy balls. Sorry to disappoint.”

  It was peaceful, relaxed, and Sanyam found himself pleasantly tired, yawning before it was midnight.

  He closed his book and stretched. “I’m going to bed. Joining me?”

  “Not done,” Fox said without looking up.

  Sanyam stood and bent over Fox’s curved back to look at what was taking shape. He had sketched the outline on the board and was placing the pieces carefully, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.

  “It looks beautiful, kit,” Sanyam murmured, and kissed the shell of Fox’s ear.

  Fox shivered but said nothing, putting another piece into place.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” Sanyam said.

  Fox grunted something that might have been acknowledgment, and Sanyam smiled and went to bed.

  But Fox never crawled in next to him, and when Sanyam woke up the next morning, Fox was sound asleep in his own bed across the hall.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  SANYAM WENT running alone, trying to figure out what to do. Perhaps it was a flaw in himself, but he needed to know what they were, if there was a label they could apply to their relationship. But something warned him that Fox would likely push back if Sanyam tried to get an answer from him, and the last thing he wanted was to spook an already fragile Fox into either bolting or saying something they both regretted.

  When he got back to the apartment, muscles loose and warm, he’d decided that he wouldn’t make any more moves. Fox clearly didn’t want to pursue anything resembling a real relationship. Maybe he didn’t even want to have sex again, and Sanyam would respect that.

  But when he walked in, the shower was running and the bathroom door was open. Sanyam kicked his shoes off and put his head in the bathroom just as Fox looked around the shower curtain, shampoo in his hair and suds on his nose.

  “What took you so long?” he asked, holding out a hand. “Get in here.”

  Shower sex with a slippery wet and very enthusiastic Fox was definitely excellent, Sanyam decided, and something that should be repeated as often as possible.

  OVER BREAKFAST, Sanyam regarded Fox as he slipped Polly tidbits. Fox glanced up and saw him.

  “What?”

  Sanyam spread his hands. “I can’t admire the view?”

  Fox snorted rudely and took another bite.

  “There actually was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Sanyam said.

  Fox tensed but said nothing.

  “I don’t know… what we are,” Sanyam began, feeling for the words. He didn’t miss the thunderclouds gathering on Fox’s brow, but he forged on. “I’m not sure if there’s even a name for us, but I wanted to ask—”

  “No,” Fox said flatly.

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Sanyam protested.

  Fox stood. “Doesn’t matter, the answer is no. I’m not your boyfriend. We’re not dating. We’re just having sex occasionally. Why can’t you just let it be that? Why can’t we just be having some fun? Why do you have to box me up and slap a label on me?”

  Sanyam’s voice cracked like a whip. “Stop.”

  Fox froze in place.

  Sanyam took a deep breath, forcing the irritation down. “Fox, please sit down and let me say what I need to say.”

  Fox sank mutely into his chair, every muscle taut, face utterly still.

  “Prickly as a hedgehog,” Sanyam muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out the frustration. “Regardless of how you view our ‘relationship,’ Fox, the fact remains that we are having sex more than occasionally. I need to know if it will bother you if I continue to Dom at the Honeytrap. Obviously, as long as you and I are… involved, I will not be having sex with anyone else, but do you have a problem with me dominating others?”

  Fox looked up, startled into letting the mask
slip. “That’s what you were going to ask?”

  “Yes,” Sanyam said, exasperated. “Will it be an issue?”

  Fox considered. “Nope,” he finally said.

  “Are you sure?” Sanyam pressed.

  Fox lifted one elegant shoulder. “You said it yourself. You’re not having sex with them. It’s a—psychological thing, I guess, not physical, right?” He met Sanyam’s eyes, and his mouth quirked. “You come home with me. I’m not worried.”

  Sanyam searched Fox’s face, but there was nothing but truth there. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he settled back in his seat.

  “All right,” he said. “Thank you for your honesty, Fox.”

  “Whatever,” Fox said and took another waffle. “Anything else?”

  Sanyam dropped his head into his hands and laughed, half-despairing. “Since you asked, yes—I’d like to get us both tested, just to make sure we’re clean.”

  “God, you’re fussy,” Fox muttered.

  Sanyam brought his head up at that. “STDs are no laughing matter, Fox.”

  Fox rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” His expression softened at whatever was showing on Sanyam’s face. “I mean—okay. You’re right.”

  “Thank you, kit.” Sanyam resisted the impulse to touch him, and Fox ducked his head, avoiding his eyes.

  THEY SETTLED into a routine, Fox sleeping in while Sanyam went running, eating breakfast together, going shopping or to the island to see Cricket, who loved her gift.

  Sanyam didn’t push to put a label on what they had, as much as he wanted to. Fox flatly rejected any hint of intimacy that wasn’t a lead-up to or aftermath to sex, often with a sharp word or worse, a laugh.

  But those moments right after they’d finished, when Fox was sprawled in a loose-limbed heap across his bed, ribs heaving and sweat sheening his skin—Sanyam lived for those moments, when he could touch Fox and know that Fox would turn into it, close his eyes and sigh and curl closer to Sanyam’s warmth.