If It Flies (6 page)

stroked it at exactly the same speed Spencer fucked himself

with the toy. Slow, the rhythm changing every few seconds

but still staying maddeningly smooth and languid.

Spencer didn’t even care about the clock anymore.

Watching Nick stroke himself while Spencer moved the toy

in and out was just too hot to care about anything else.

Nick stroked himself faster. Spencer moved the toy faster.

And that was when it dawned on him: Nick hadn’t been

mimicking his speed.
He
’d been mimicking Nick’s. Changing whenever he did. Obeying an unspoken command.

And he’d never been so turned on in his life. Never.

Didn’t matter what happened for the rest of the time they had

together, he’d already gotten his money’s worth.
Fuck
.

Nick slowed down, and then stopped. So did Spencer.

He got a little thrill out of the subtle flush of Nick’s neck and chest, the hint of colour in his cheeks. Nick’s pupils weren’t completely blown yet, but they were getting there.

“No more with the toy.” Nick didn’t seem even a little out

of breath or flustered, no matter what his eyes and skin tone

said. “Get me a condom.”

37

Excitement rippled through Spencer’s body, curling his

toes even as he withdrew the toy. He set it aside and picked

up one of the foil packets. When he turned back, Nick had

come closer. Soundlessly, too. Like he’d been over there and

was now right here, and neither Spencer nor physics could

explain how.

“Put it on.”

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He tore the packet with his teeth,

rolled the condom onto Nick’s substantial cock. Once it was

on, he looked up at Nick.

“Lube.”

Oh, yes. Finally . . .

He poured some lube onto his hand and covered Nick’s

cock with it. Obeying a sharp gesture from Nick, he lay back

on the bed again.

Nick didn’t say a word. He pushed Spencer’s legs further

apart and guided himself to his very, very ready arse. Spencer bit his lips as Nick pressed in, and even though he was well-prepped and wanted it so fucking bad, he wasn’t ready when

Nick breached him. It wasn’t painful by any means, just . . .

intense. Incredibly intense. He vaguely remembered telling

Nick he liked it rough, but in the back of his mind, he

wondered if he could handle it rough right now.

Oh God, no, there’s no way . . .

But in spite of Spencer’s earlier insistence he liked it that

way, Nick was being anything but rough right now. Rather,

he was precise. Slow. Whether to give Spencer time to adjust

or because he got a kick out of withholding what Spencer

wanted, Spencer wouldn’t have dared to guess. He’d most

likely be wrong. Nick moved as slowly as if he had no needs;

he was controlled like no partner Spencer had ever had, so

38

Spencer relaxed and thought about the man’s hand on his

hair. Relaxed into that remembered sensation.

“That’s better,” Nick said, and Spencer smiled at the

approval.

Nick kept pushing forward, until Spencer felt his carefully-

trimmed pubes against his arse. Ful . Tight. Shuddering. He

lifted his legs further, exposing himself more to Nick’s cock, and Nick took them by the underside of his thighs, pushing

them further up. He didn’t use them for leverage, not yet, but the guy was strong, and this seemed designed to remind him

of that. Spencer relaxed. Breathed.

Nick ground a bit against him. “Tell me how that feels.”

“Ful .” Spencer swallowed hard. “Exposed. Good.”

Nick pulled back maybe an inch and slid back in. The

motion was heavenly, still slow, but at least the bastard was

finally moving. Spencer tried to push into it, but his position kept him completely passive. He looked up into Nick’s eyes,

and Nick nodded as if to say, “Well done.” And then he moved.

Fuck!
Lesson learned.

Withdrawing, Nick pressed most of his buttons, but

pushing back in, he pressed all but one: the “rough” one. Nick’s movements were slow, smooth, as focused and irrepressible as

if he were a fuck robot. He did something pretty spectacular

with the angles of his hips, too, sliding past Spencer’s prostate with every movement until Spencer was taut and tense and

they were both glowing with sweat, no sound but the grinding,

the rasp of skin against pubes.

In direct violation of what Spencer had claimed he’d

wanted, Nick was slowly, methodically driving him up the

wal , but hell, this was . . . this was something to be savoured.

You didn’t stuff your face with foie gras, either.

39

Nick let go of Spencer’s legs, which meant Spencer had

to adjust a little to keep comfortable. Nick slid his hands

up Spencer’s abs, their slow, warm path complementing the

cadence of his hips perfectly. They stopped just below his

collar bones, and for a moment, they were just there. Not

pressing down hard, not holding Spencer against the bed,

just . . . there.

Spencer shivered, closing his eyes as his lower back lifted

off the bed. If Nick had this much of an effect on him in super slow motion, he could only imagine what would happen if

Nick pulled out all the stops.

The fingers resting beneath his col ar bones curled slightly.

The nails—those black-painted staccato nails Spencer could

see in his mind’s eye—bit in enough to get his attention. Not

hard, but a sharp deviation from all the smooth and the slick

and the soft he’d had so far.

Nick’s hips picked up the pace, but not by much. Like

the bite of his nails, just enough to draw Spencer’s attention, and it worked, because now his attention was evenly divided

between the dick moving
so perfectly
in and out of him and the nails resting beneath his col ar bones.

The nails moved, digging in hard now and drawing ten

red hot lines down Spencer’s chest. One went right over his

nipple, and Spencer gasped, but Nick didn’t stop, and the

intense burning only complemented the slow and sensual

below his waist, and . . . and . . .
holy fuck . . .

“Oh my God.” He couldn’t believe he’d even managed

to speak. The nails continued past his ribs, onto his abs and

sides, making muscles quiver and contract.

Halfway down his belly, the nails—fucking
claws
—

started coming together, pul ing towards his navel.

Wait. No. Not his navel. Lower . . .

40

His cock—which was
plenty
hard now—stiffened even

more. His balls tightened. And the semicircle of sharp and

burning just kept getting closer while Nick kept right on

fucking. Spencer groaned, bit his lips, squirmed under the

pain and the lingering burn, felt himself tighten around Nick, too, but it seemed to have no effect on the bastard. Or none

besides a grin. Their gazes locked again, and there was bloody-minded determination in Nick and self-possession and a

generous helping of sheer wickedness that made Spencer’s

balls draw up.

Just don’t scratch my dick,
he pleaded silently in his own head. Nick’s right hand lifted away, hovered close to his dick, making Spencer nervous enough that he broke eye contact.

And then Nick slapped his cock. Spencer very nearly jumped,

because it fucking hurt . . . but the pain mellowed into a weird, weird burn, especially when Nick nailed his prostate at the

same fucking time. Oh God. The guy would break him. Drive

him fucking insane.

The other hand did the same thing, slapped him hard,

making his dick bounce and smack his flesh, and Spencer

tightened and got so fucking close. Nick thrust a few times

hard and fast, overloading his brain with pleasure/pain and,

as if in an afterthought, used one of those wicked hands to

jerk him at the same time, fingernails raking the side of his

dick.Spencer made a sound somewhere between pleading and

shouting as the orgasm very nearly blew off the top of his

head. It felt like he couldn’t stop coming, spunk covering his belly up to his chest as Nick’s insistent short thrusts milked him through the orgasm.

Oh God. Oh bloody hell.

41

Spencer clutched for something, anything, but Nick

pulled back and left him gaping, empty and bereft, covered

in sweat and semen. And floaty. So floaty, in fact, that only

the claw marks down his front kept him anywhere near his

body. The marks felt like they were glowing bright flaming red despite his dark skin, and held him down like Nick’s hands

had earlier.

He reached up with a shaking hand and wiped sweat

from his brow. Scrubbed over his face, if nothing else just to make sure some part of his body was still intact. Nick wasn’t

touching him anymore. In fact, the air around Spencer was

unnervingly vacant, devoid of the kid who’d stepped right

up in his face . . . was that tonight? Just an hour or two ago?

Seemed like it hadn’t happened in this same dimension, never

mind the same evening.

He opened his eyes, blinked a few times until the room

came into focus.

Nick was gone. Completely gone. A phantom who’d

slipped back into the shadows, leaving only goose bumps as

evidence he’d ever been there at al .

What the hell?

Spencer pushed himself up and looked around as he

reached for a handful of tissues. He was just
gone
?

The tap turned on, and when Spencer glanced over his

shoulder, the bathroom light was on and the door ajar. Ah.

There. Now the world made sense again.

Right. As if the world could make sense after a fuck like

that.He cleaned himself up, and lay back in the centre of the

bed. Too hot to get under the covers, too dizzy to stay upright, so he just lay there and waited for Nick to return.

42

Chapter

fouR

he en suite went dark, and Nick emerged from the

T
shadows. God, he really was like a phantom, slipping in and out of a solid, tangible existence at will. Didn’t help that he was still half-covered in black; he never had fully removed his leather trousers, and they were once again zipped and

buttoned. Even his hair was back in order, the blond fringe

swept off to the side so it was almost out of his eyes. If not for the hint of colour in his skin, it would have been impossible

to tell he’d been fucking and scratching and slapping Spencer

within the last five minutes.

Spencer wasn’t nearly so put back together. He’d cleaned

himself off, but still, he could only imagine how he looked

right now. A wreck, no doubt, but as Nick looked him over

and grinned, he didn’t feel too terribly self-conscious. This

was probably exactly what Nick wanted to see. Mission

accomplished, paycheque earned, man down.

Well done, lad. Well done.

Nick sat on the bed beside Spencer, and curved a hand

over his bare leg. “You still have me for another hour.”

Another hour. Wow. Spencer licked his lips and ran his

fingers over his sweaty hair. “I don’t know if I can
handle
another hour of you.”

The rentboy chuckled, not even trying to hide the arrogant

undercurrent of
and don’t you forget it
. He drew a fingertip up the inside of Spencer’s thigh, teasing hypersensitive nerve endings with a featherlight touch until Spencer arched and

swore, nearly batting Nick’s hand away but somehow certain

that wasn’t allowed.

43

“God,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You keep cal ing me that,” Nick teased. “I assure you: I’m

not.”“You don’t say.”

The laugh that followed was quiet, but undeniably

diabolical. “I’m hardly here to save you. Just fuck you.”

Spencer shivered.

The hand left his thigh. “Get on your stomach.”

Already?
Shit. Though Nick hadn’t come, so he wouldn’t need much time to recover, would he?

“I’m not going to fuck you again,” Nick said in that light,

teasing tone again. “Relax.”

“Isn’t that what I’m paying you to do?” Spencer was

already moving onto his stomach as he said it. “To fuck me?”

“Of course you are.” Nick didn’t even give Spencer a

chance to settle before he started playing that little game of light touches on his spine. “And I will fuck you again before I leave, but not yet.”

Spencer glanced back at Nick, and wasn’t at all surprised

to see a devilish grin on his lips. Made him wonder what

kind of kisser Nick was. Not passive, he was sure. Probably

aggressive. Teasing. The kind who would playfully bite

Spencer’s lip and force his tongue into his mouth, all in the

course of the same kiss. He probably gave a hell of a blowjob, too, if it was possible to get him on his knees.

Ironically, that was the thought on Spencer’s mind a

second before Nick shifted, and now Nick
was
on his knees.

Still over Spencer, but kneeling. Hardly a submissive posture, particularly not now that—

Oh my God.
Leather simultaneously warmed and cooled

the sides of Spencer’s thighs, and just below his arse, more

leather. Nick was straddling him. Over him.

44

Nick wasn’t heavy by any means, but he was solid. Muscle