Authors: Catt Ford
He sank down, pushing Nick flat beneath him, taking pleasure in covering the slender, pliant body with his own.
"Mine," he growled softly and bit the velvet shoulder, but not hard enough to leave a mark. He had claimed the boy as his own; his mark was indelible now. He was satisfied.
Both men drifted off to sleep, Damian still buried deep within his boy.
* * * *
A Strong Hand
by Catt Ford
Nick woke and felt around the cold sheets before his eyes were open. He wondered if he'd dreamt it, but he thought he remembered that Damian had fucked him. He flexed his arse and the soreness told him it was no dream.
He shifted in bed, wanting to just lie there and let his mind drift. He stretched on the luxuriously soft bed, wondering if Damian expected him to get up.
"Hey, Nicky," Damian said, calling him again by the diminutive that only his mother and sister ever used. He came in bearing a tray, which he set on the bedside table.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, feeling Nick's forehead as if he'd had a fever.
"I'm fine," Nick answered nervously, unsure as to how things stood between them now.
Damian went to the closet and retrieved an old plaid flannel shirt. "Slip this on, so you don't get chilled. I brought you breakfast."
Obediently, Nick pulled the shirt over his shoulders.
Damian fluffed pillows, placing them against the headboard for the boy to lean against.
"What did you bring me?" Nick asked expectantly.
Damian chuckled. "Only coffee and toast. I'm afraid I don't eat here very often and there isn't much in the house."
"That's okay," Nick said, sniffing deeply at the steaming cup that Damian handed him. He was surprised at the first sip to see that Damian had remembered how he took his coffee.
He raised glowing eyes to the older man and accepted a slice of buttered toast.
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They ate the simple meal in silence and Nick yawned when he was done. Damian took the empty cup from his lax fingers.
"How's your hip?"
"It's fine, Damian, really," Nick said with a smile.
"Tell me why you only wanted one pill."
"Two knock me out forever. One doesn't work on the pain quite as fast, but it doesn't leave me so groggy," Nick explained. "And you rubbing my back so quick helped me relax, so it didn't get as bad as sometimes."
"Why don't you go back to sleep and take it easy today?"
Damian asked.
Nick yawned but shook his head. "I don't want to be in your way. You must have things to do."
There was no way that Damian could tell Nick how empty it made him feel to think of taking him home. He couldn't admit that he would miss the boy, even to himself. "No, I plan to take it easy myself. Can I get you anything from your apartment?"
Nick blushed deeply, remembering the state he'd left it in.
He'd been so anxious to see Damian lately that he hadn't bothered to put anything away at all. "Uh, that's okay."
Damian laughed. "I've already seen the worst. If you wanted your laptop and a change of underwear...."
Nick turned redder. "I don't think there
is
any clean underwear. But I could use my laptop."
Damian kissed the silky curls. "Lie down and get some rest. I'll be back soon."
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Nick slid down in the bed and snuggled against his pillow, feeling cared for. It was a nice feeling after being away from home for four years. He hoped ... but then he pushed the thought away. Damian could never love him; he would just have to make do with what the photographer was willing to offer.
* * * *
Whenever Nick sighed or turned in his sleep, Damian would run for it.
Between sightseeing excursions, he ran the washer, doing his own laundry and a pile of Nick's that he'd gathered from every horizontal surface in the untidy apartment. He even folded it, smiling as he thought how the tables had been turned a bit. Here he was, the Top, doing chores for his sub.
When dusk's shadows crept into the rooms Damian called for Chinese takeaway, ordering whatever he thought might tempt his boy.
* * * *
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When the lift doors opened, he started to drawl sarcastically, "So you finally decided to come to work. What's wrong?"
Damian was walking slowly, his arm around Nick, who was still a bit stiff and limping. "Nick's hip went out on him Saturday night, after we got back from dinner. He's just a bit out of it. He had to take another pain pill this morning and I didn't want to leave him alone."
Ashley strode forward, holding his arms out. "I'll take him; you open up."
Damian grinned. "Nice try. Take the keys and unlock the door."
Ashley grinned back. "It was worth a shot."
Nick smiled groggily, not quite understanding the byplay between the two men. "Sorry, Ashley, I don't think I can do much today."
Ashley looked back over his shoulder. "Not a problem.
We'll work around you. Get some rest, lad." By then he had the door open and the three men went inside, Damian leading Nick to his office. The blanket was still on the couch so he swept it back, settling the boy so he was on his side with a pillow under his head and another between his knees.
Damian bent to tuck the blanket around him. "Go to sleep, babe. Don't worry about anything. We'll be right outside if you need anything, okay?"
"Yeah," Nick sighed, relaxing as his pill started to kick in again, once he'd stopped moving. He had hoped that perhaps Damian might want to fuck him again, but the older man had 171
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left him alone in the guest room last night after they had eaten dinner together.
After spending the solitary night tossing and turning, racking his brain to discover what he'd done wrong, or what he had left undone, Nick had finally awakened in the morning, twisted into an uncomfortable position with his hip sending warning signals to his brain.
Ashley watched as Damian ran his hand over the glossy curls. Nick's eyes drooped shut and he fell asleep, obviously under the influence of whatever painkiller Damian had given him.
"Is he okay?" Ashley whispered.
Damian backed out, closing the door behind him. "He had some kind of accident, a few years ago. Had an operation and as far as I can tell, he's mostly quite sound. I don't know the whole story, but if he's under stress or in the wrong position, apparently he has muscle spasms."
"You need a nice spanking bench," Ashley advised judiciously. "Padded surface, adjustable in height, sturdy ring bolts...."
Deciding attack was the best form of defense, Damian ignored this sage advice and asked, "How're you getting on with Derek? Where is he?"
Ashley coughed and answered. "I sent him to the office for a few things. He'll be here soon."
"That wasn't much of an answer," Damian teased.
"We're talking," Ashley answered slowly. "Apparently Nick told him that he hadn't given me much of a chance to explain 172
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myself. That he'd hurt my feelings by not trusting me to take things slowly."
Damian was very amused. "Nick? Giving advice to Derek?"
"Well, whatever you've been doing to him, and I do still want details," Ashley said, salaciously licking his lips, "it seems you at least have won his trust. I just hope you're worthy of it."
Damian turned away, pretending to inspect the display of whips.
I hope so too,
he thought.
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Nick would have been quite happy to take his pile of clean, folded laundry and gone home at the end of a day during which he'd napped almost constantly. He had drifted out of the office once to observe the shoot, dismayed to see that Mistress Bettie was working her wiles on Damian again. He turned so pale that Derek and Ashley had both exclaimed at him and Damian had sternly ordered him back to the couch.
Feeling limp and weak, he went without bothering to protest. He didn't protest later either when Damian took him to his flat. He was hoping that perhaps he would be invited to Damian's bed, but instead he was dropped off in front of his apartment block and told to get some rest.
Damian was polite and considerate; he hadn't given a single order since Saturday night and Nick felt that he had become extremely remote. He had no idea how he had offended the photographer and no idea how to regain the ground that they'd lost.
Nick had classes the next day so he wasn't rostered for work at the studio. He'd hoped Damian would call his cell but it remained silent all day, except for one text from his sister.
That night, alone in his small, cold, uncomfortable apartment, with the spring that poked through the mattress sticking him in the ribs, he cried himself to sleep.
* * * *
A Strong Hand
by Catt Ford
Meanwhile, things were on the up for Ashley. He'd driven Derek home from the restaurant on Saturday night, recognizing the younger man's efforts to keep the conversation going. When Derek invited him in for coffee he'd accepted, and they had managed to get along rather nicely.
Ashley's mood was one of hopeful optimism when he arrived at the studio the next morning. Therefore he was a bit dismayed to see that Nick had reverted to his antagonistic, surly manner while Damian was remote and snappy.
After the promising atmosphere of Saturday night and the tenderness with which Damian had tended to the boy when he was hurt, Ashley couldn't imagine what had gone wrong. It was absolutely none of his business whatsoever, and therefore he fully intended to pry and poke until he had the full story. Then he would set it to rights. Top he might be, but he was also the CEO of a large and successful company and this was merely an example of employee discord. Or nearly so, he thought with a grin. All analogies were imperfect.
He decided to tackle Nick first; the boy was inexperienced and obviously confused, and therefore an easier mark than Damian. Ashley wasn't his Dom, but he had no doubt that he could bring the boy to his knees. Literally.
After watching Nick shrug and snarl at Derek, Ashley had an even more potent reason for stepping in. No one dissed
his
boy. Even though Derek technically hadn't agreed to anything yet, Ashley had hopes in that arena.
Waiting for Damian to be otherwise occupied on the set, Ashley meandered into the kitchen area. Damian had nixed all his suggestions for using Nick in any shots that day, and 175
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therefore the boy had been demoted once again to assistant.
Privately Ashley thought perhaps it was because they were shooting short shorts and Damian didn't want Nick's arse on display, but whatever the reason, the boy was drooping about over his task, aimlessly wiping the countertops free of crumbs from morning coffee.
"Hello, Nicholas. How is your hip today?" Ashley asked kindly.
"Fine," was the terse, one-word answer. Nick didn't even look up.
That would have to be remedied; the boy wasn't
his
sub, but he
was
a sub, and Ashley was a Top. Time for the boy to learn that there were manners in this world!
"Boy!" Ashley said crisply, in a voice that snapped with power.
Nick looked up, his eyes wide with apprehension. Ashley pointed to the floor and automatically, without thinking, Nick went to his knees and clasped his hands behind him, wondering what had compelled his obedience.
"Better," Ashley said. "Boy, I am a Dom. I may not be your Dom, but I require respect. If you behave like that again, I'll put you on your knees no matter who else is in the room. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Nick responded miserably. There was no sexual charge for him in obeying Ashley but his position on his knees reminded him of how much he'd lost. He looked down at the floor, blinking to keep his tears from spilling over.
"What happened between you and Damian?" Ashley said in a kinder voice. "Things seemed to be going so well, both of 176
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you mooning about with stars in your eyes and a sting in your bottom, no doubt, and then suddenly Damian is surly as a bear and you're acting the brat again."
Nick suppressed a sob, his Adam's apple bobbing, and merely shook his head speechlessly.
He felt long fingers cupping his jaw, and his head was tilted back. "Look at me, boy," Ashley instructed, his voice still gentle. "What happened after your hip went out?"
Nick gulped nervously. "Damian took me home; he took care of me."
"And?"
"He ... uh ... he.... "Nick struggled, not knowing quite how to put this into words.
"He took you?" Ashley helped.
"Yeah," Nick nodded miserably, not meeting Ashley's eyes.
"And then, he just ... um ... he never ... he only ... uh...."
"Ah, I see," Ashley said, as comprehension flooded over him. "He was kind to you."
"Yes. No ... he's always kind ... he just..." Nick floundered.
"He's treating you like you're made of glass and you might break."
"I guess," Nick agreed miserably.
"Have you talked to him? Asked him why?"
"I couldn't!"
"You could, and you'd better learn to make your needs known, Nick, or you won't learn how to get what you want.
However, I think in this case perhaps you'd better leave this to Uncle Ashley," the older man said. "Do you need a hand up?"