Darwin's Natural Selection (16 page)

Tom twisted his face away and gasped for breath. Darwin’s lips dropped to the man’s exposed neck as his hands dove beneath Tom’s coat, pulling his shirttails from his waistband where they had been tucked so neatly. Oddly enough, this reminder of Tom’s normally tidy appearance shot a shiver of lust down Darwin’s spine and he couldn’t resist closing his teeth on a tendon running the length of Tom’s neck.

Although the bite wasn’t hard, Tom still shuddered and groaned.

The sound was almost enough to send Darwin over the edge. All those nights of phone sex hadn’t prepared him for the actual overwhelming, brain-spinning rush of real-life Tom, the taste of his skin and the ripple of his abdominal muscles when Darwin finally managed to delve beneath his shirt and lay a hand on Tom’s stomach.

“Wait!” Everything disappeared as Tom twisted, trying to pull away.

For a long second, Darwin didn’t think he was capable of letting go. His entire body demanded that he hold on to Tom, and he did—just long enough for Tom’s skin to go cold and clammy under his lips and hands.

“Fuck,” Darwin swore, releasing the other man abruptly and taking a step back.

Tom stumbled back as well, tripping over the edge of the area rug and falling. Darwin moved toward him automatically, meaning to help him up, but Tom scuttled backward like a crab, his eyes huge.

The wild part of Darwin wanted to advance, to stalk and pounce, but everything civilized inside him was horrified at that need. He sat down on the floor instead, shifting back until his shoulder blades touched the door.

“Sorry,” he said when his breathing had slowed a little and his blood wasn’t rushing so frantically through his veins. “I get a little nuts when I touch you.”

Tom didn’t say anything. He just watched, his chest rising and falling as fast as a baby bird’s.

“You know what it was that drove me so wild?” Darwin didn’t know whether talking would calm Tom down or make everything worse, but it was too hard to sit quietly, listening to the frantic rasp of Tom’s breath.

“You’re always so tucked in and neat, your hair all perfect and your clothes not wrinkly.

Do you actually iron them?”

Tom moved his head in what was not quite a nod.

“Huh,” Darwin marveled, shifting his weight. “I don’t even own an iron. If my shirt’s really wrinkly, though, I’ll hang it in the bathroom while I take a shower. That must count as some sort of iron-like tool, right?”

“Not…” The word came out as a croak and Tom cleared his throat. “Not really.”

Darwin laughed, more in relief that Tom had spoken than because something was truly funny. “When you’re all neat like that, it makes me want to muss you.”

“Muss?” Tom repeated, sounding a little hoarse but mostly back to normal. “Is that a new euphemism?”

With another laugh, Darwin scooted closer to the other man, stopping when Tom flinched. “Yep. It’s what all the kids are saying these days. You know, like, ‘OMG, I totally mussed that hottie at Britney’s party last night.’”

Tom actually laughed—a cut-off huff of sound, but still a laugh. “You’re so hip and with it.”

Daring to slide forward again, Darwin managed to get close enough to close his fingers around the toe of Tom’s shoe. “You know it.” As he untied the shoelace, Darwin held his breath, expecting Tom’s foot to jerk back at any second and then maybe swing back out to connect with his stomach. To his surprise, Tom allowed it.

“You made me drop my nail gun,”

Darwin admitted, tugging off Tom’s shoe.

“That day I actually got up the nerve to talk to you at the work site.”

Tom didn’t move as Darwin pulled off his sock. He was watching Darwin’s face, as if mesmerized. “Liar.”

“Am not.” Darwin held Tom’s bare foot, rubbing his thumb along the arch. He was starting to have a hard time concentrating on the conversation. Even Tom’s feet were sexy. “Ask MacDougal. He saw it and nearly had a coronary.”

“When is he
not
having a coronary?” Tom asked, his words breathless. His eyes were on Darwin’s hand now as he wrapped his fingers around Tom’s ankle.

Darwin grinned. “Good point.” He released Tom’s foot in order to remove his other shoe and sock.

“Didn’t realize you had a foot thing,”

Tom rushed out, his effort at teasing sounding slightly panicked.

With a shrug, Darwin slid his hands over Tom’s ankles and up his calves. “I have a thing for all your parts,” he said, massaging the hard muscles in Tom’s lower legs. “Your feet were just the closest.”

“Darwin…” The regret in Tom’s voice made the other man sigh. “You’re being really nice and patient—almost freakishly patient.”

“But?” Darwin didn’t want to prompt the final dismissal he knew was coming but it was too hard to just sit in silence and wait for the words. He worked his knuckles against the upper curve of the arch in Tom’s foot, glad to have even this minor contact with the other man.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He flopped down to lie on his back. “I want to…I mean, I
really
want to do this.” Turning his head, he looked at Darwin. Tom’s face screamed longing, melting any residual resentment Darwin was clinging to. The two men stared at each other for a long moment.

“I really, really,
really
want to do this.”

Just like that, Darwin couldn’t breathe.

“So what can I do?”

“Do?” Tom echoed. “I don’t know…give me amnesia?”

Darwin almost laughed at that. If he could give his own memory loss away, Tom was welcome to it. “Want me to hit you really hard on the head?”

Tom laughed, wriggling his toes beneath Darwin’s touch. “Doesn’t that only work in cartoons?”

With a shrug and a half-smile, Darwin said, “Probably.” Despite Tom’s words, he wasn’t about to give up. After all, he still had one of Tom’s body parts in his hands.

“So what else can I do?”

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Tom said, watching him carefully. “You’re not doing anything wrong. In fact, you’re like Mr.

Flipping Perfect.”

Darwin nodded solemnly. “You can call me Flip for short.”

Tom’s laugh was more of a snort. “See?

You’re funny and sweet and everything I could even think of wanting in a guy. And I do want you. It’s just, when it starts getting intense and…I don’t know, grabby… I freak.”

“Grabby?” Darwin wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be offended. “Like you’re my secretary and I’m your balding, handsy boss?”

Color rising in Tom’s cheeks, he waved away the comment. “I didn’t mean…”

“Hang on,” Darwin cut in when Tom’s words shriveled away. “I might have an idea.” Releasing Tom’s feet, Darwin stood, ignoring the other man’s flinch at the sudden movement. Crossing the kitchen, he reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a fistful of plastic strips.

Tom was standing now, his gaze fixed on the objects in Darwin’s grip. His eyes were huge and wary. “What are those?”

“Zip ties,” Darwin explained, pushing down the usual urge to jump on Tom, the same one he always got when the other man went all scared-fawn on him. Instead, he picked up one of the kitchen chairs and moved it, setting it down on the rug next to the fireplace.

Even from across the room, he could hear Tom’s breathing, quick and shallow.

“You’ll have to put these on me,” Darwin said as casually as he could manage. This was his last-ditch effort to get some real, in-person, face-to-face—or maybe face-to-back-of-head—action with Tom. He couldn’t blow it by saying the wrong thing. His dick would never forgive him.

“Put…uh, what?” Although Tom’s words were faint, at least Darwin could hear him.

Darwin grinned. “Well, I can’t put them on myself—at least not very easily. Besides, this way you can make sure I’m secure.”

When Tom just stared at him, Darwin added, “Your prisoner.”

Although saying the word left a bad taste in Darwin’s mouth, the interest that flickered across Tom’s face lightened the bitter sting of memory. Dropping the zip ties on the floor next to the chair, he shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the couch. His boots came off next and he pulled his socks off while he was down there, as well.

As he unbuttoned his shirt, Darwin snuck a peek at Tom. He was happy to see that color had returned to the other man’s face—and even happier to see the way Tom’s gaze was locked on Darwin’s fingers, watching as each button was twisted and freed from its fabric hole.

“Are you sure?” Tom asked, staring unblinking as Darwin’s shirt dropped to the floor. “I mean, if I put those on you, you really won’t be able to get free by yourself.”

“Why would I need to free myself?”

Darwin non-answered. Admitting that he could easily snap the nylon restraints would lead to a whole new conversation, one he really didn’t want to have yet. “You going to tie me up and then take off, leaving me helpless and alone?”

As Darwin’s hands dropped to unfasten his pants, Tom swallowed and took a step closer. “N-no.”

“Then we’re golden.” In one motion, Darwin swept his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. “Unless you have a heart attack or something, you’ll be here to cut me out of these things.”

Taking another two steps forward, Tom stared at the exposed cock in front of him and gave a wheezy huff of laughter. “A heart attack is possible.” His tongue touched his lower lip. “Highly probable, actually.”

Darwin grinned. The sight of his naked body was apparently distracting Tom enough from his fear to allow him to talk in coherent sentences again. Darwin sat down in the chair, flinching a little as his ass contacted the cold wood. Reaching down to the pile of ties on the floor, he grabbed two and quickly looped one of the nylon strips around his left ankle and the chair leg.

Darwin pulled it tight, fastening his ankle to the chair then repeating the process with his right ankle. When Darwin looked up, Tom had moved several steps closer.

“I’m willing to take the risk,” Darwin said, putting his hands behind him. “It’s strong.”

Tom’s gaze darted to his and then dropped back to the naked body half strapped to the chair. “What is?”

“Your heart.”

Tom smiled, just a one-sided tip of his mouth, barely bringing a dimple into play, but it was still enough to make Darwin’s breath catch. He waited for what seemed like forever but the agony of patience paid off—Tom took a hesitant step closer and then another, bringing him within reach of the zip ties.

“What exactly,” Tom asked, bending down to pick up a nylon tie, his gaze still focused on Darwin, “were you planning?”

Darwin’s shrug was hampered somewhat by holding his hands behind his back. “I’m not planning anything except to sit here, tied up, and let you do whatever you want to me.”

Tom hesitated, still except for the nervous slide of the nylon strip between his fingers, watching Darwin with those eyes that reminded him simultaneously of prey and chocolate.

“Do you like this?” Tom finally asked, the wave of his hand encompassing the wooden chair and the bonds holding the lower portion of Darwin in place.

“Being tied up?” Darwin clarified.

Tom nodded.

“Not especially,” He gave another half-successful shrug. “I’m more of the tie
-er
than the tie
-ee
. With you, though, I’m up for anything.” Darwin glanced at his own lap and laughed. “As you can see.”

This time, Tom’s laugh sounded more like an actual sound of amusement rather than an asthmatic wheeze. He moved behind Darwin and slid the zip tie around one of the spools making up the back of the chair. As he moved his wrist closer to the tie, Darwin could feel the tremor of the other man’s fingers. It took what felt like forever before Tom could thread the end of the tie through the catch but Darwin eventually heard the soft clicking whir as the circle narrowed, binding his left hand to the back of the chair. As it tightened around his wrist, Darwin felt the slight bite of the nylon in his skin.

The right hand went more quickly, either because Tom was gaining confidence or because he just wanted Darwin immobilized as soon as possible. Even after both of Darwin’s hands were bound, Tom stayed behind him, out of sight. Darwin closed his eyes, concentrating on the smell of Tom and the small sounds he was making.

“Too tight?” Tom asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Just right.” Darwin said. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded gravelly.

Tom’s huff of laughter brushed the back of Darwin’s head, lifting goose bumps over his scalp. “Okay, Goldilocks.”

“Sounds like you’re starting to enjoy this situation,” Darwin said dryly.

Tom was quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah,”

he finally said, sounding surprised. “I guess I am.” His finger outlined the outer edge of Darwin’s ear.

Darwin couldn’t help it—he jolted under the contact.

Tom pulled his hand away for a moment but it returned, to the back of Darwin’s neck this time. He traced the line of Darwin’s spine down to the edge of the chair back and back up to the base of his skull.

All Darwin could do was shudder and groan as his skin heated, warmth spreading from the point of Tom’s contact throughout his body. Just from a few innocent touches, his cock was hard and swollen and Darwin was squirming on the seat. He twisted his wrists, feeling the sharp press of the nylon straps. Darwin knew it wouldn’t take much for him to snap the ties, to free his hands so he could touch and hold and control, and his whole body shook with the temptation.

“You’re so perfect,” Tom breathed, sliding both hands over Darwin’s shoulders and across his chest.

“I’m… Fuck!” Tom’s fingers had found the hard points of his nipples. Sucking in a ragged breath, Darwin tried again. “I’m not perfect.” If he were perfect, he wouldn’t be a touch away from breaking free of the straps and scaring the shit out of Tom. Again.

“Of course you are.” Tom kissed the side of his neck and Darwin could only groan.

Tom’s hands moved up his chest and over his shoulders, following Darwin’s arms down to where his wrists were bound to the chair. Darwin could feel him slide a finger beneath each tie, giving a tug as if checking to make sure they were still secure. Twisting his wrists, attempting to catch Tom’s hands in his, Darwin closed his fingers on air as the other man pulled away.