21. Nick
“I haven’t decidedif I’m going to let you get off, but either way, you’re getting a blow job. What do you think about that?”
Nick heard Evan make the promise, but it took him a moment to parse the meaning. He was stuck in his head, standing at the border of subspace, a pleasant land he liked to visit on occasion. A hazy place where everything moved a little slower, with gates lowered and drawbridge drawn up to protect him when things got too much to take and endorphins spirited him away.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat, wishing the bedside lamp weren’t so bright. Did he want to get off? He wanted catharsis, but he wasn’t sure what that looked like, and he’d never been good at living in life’s gray areas. “What about you?”
“We’re not talking about me,” said Evan, though the bulge in his pants said otherwise.
“But you’re—”
“Don’t worry about it, Nicky. And stop talking. Roll over.”
Nick did, and Evan gave him a moment to settle before crawling onto the bed and closing his warm mouth around the head of Nick’s cock. If it was possible for genitalia to set a land-speed record, the swiftness with which Nick’s body responded to the stimulation would have broken it. Evan’s gag reflex seemed nonexistent, and he worked his way down to take Nick deep, which was impressive. Not because Nick was particularly large—he was average at best—but because Evan’s mouth had always struck him as small—elfin, like the rest of him. But he was managing, bobbing his head as Nick’s breath quickened.
The throbbing of the welts on Nick’s ass against the towel beneath his backside, combined with Evan’s attentions, were enough to send that familiar cresting-wave feeling through him within minutes, despite his earlier concerns. His fingers gripped the rope, and he bucked his hips once, only to have Evan place a firm hand on his stomach, forcing him down.
“Sorry,” Nick whispered. Evan just hummed around him, which drew an involuntary whimper from him. Seconds later, he felt his balls tighten, and he shook his head, blurting, “I’m gonna—”
Evan pulled off with a pop, his lips red and cheeks flushed to match. “No, you’re not.” He threw one leg over Nick’s stomach to straddle him, sitting back so the seam of his pants brushed maddeningly against Nick’s straining shaft. “Not until I do. Also…” He reached up to give Nick’s left nipple a pinch. “No talking.”
With that, Evan took out his cock, which was slightly more than proportional with a curve that Nick just bet would feel incredible pressing against a certain portion of his anatomy when they did this again. If they did this again.
Will we? Maybe. Friends with benefits, right?
Evan spit into the center of his palm then took hold of himself and began to stroke, each minor sway of his hips prolonging Nick’s torture. This was worse than the slap. Worse than the caning. Worse than standing at the border of subspace, unable to find his way in. This was perfect.
“Evan…” Nick said, unable to stop himself.
He’d spent so many nights tied up and helpless, but never before had he been with someone who seemed capable of reading him like a book. Not even Ben had been so attuned to his needs in the early days, when things were good. So Nick asked for what he wanted, knowing that Evan would only give it to him if he felt it had been earned. Plus, he was allowed to ask questions.
“Can you kiss me?”
“Of course I can,” Evan said, making Nick’s stomach swoop as he leaned down to meet him in a tender kiss.
A shiver running through him, Nick closed his eyes, and when Evan deepened the kiss, he chased the sensation of his tongue, his teeth, his lips, and the way Evan’s spit-slick fist felt rubbing along Nick’s sweat-damp stomach with every stroke.
“Close,” Evan murmured against his mouth. Seconds later, he shuddered and let out a sharp cry pitched as high as his giggles. Warmth flooded the space between them, and Evan bit Nick’s bottom lip as he brought himself to completion.
Once spent, he sat back on Nick’s belly, a coy smile on his face. Nick assumed they were done, but then Evan scooted back to settle near his knees instead.
“You don’t have to warn me or ask permission or anything like that, all right?” Evan said, which was all the warning Nick got before Evan’s mouth was on him again. It took very little time before Nick’s orgasm hit him like a freight train, bringing with it a one-way ticket to subspace, which settled over his brain in a foggy bliss.
Everything moved in slow motion after that. Evan untied his wrists and rubbed the reddened skin before placing them on his chest. Moments later, Nick felt the gentle touch of a warm washcloth on his stomach… Evan asking him to lift his hips… the towel being tugged away… the blanket pulled up and over him before the cup of water was offered again.
“Drink, please,” Evan said, and Nick put up no resistance.
After a few long swallows, Evan put the water down and stretched out under the covers to pull Nick against him. The position was like a teaspoon cradling a serving spoon, but for once, he wasn’t thinking about the optics.
At some point, Nick drifted to sleep, and when he woke, it was to a darkened room and the feeling of Evan still wrapped tightly around him. Grunting, he groped for his phone and discovered that—in addition to the fact that Evan had plugged it into the charger for him—it was only eight o’clock. That was what happened when one fucked in the middle of the afternoon.
“Hi,” said Evan, pressing a kiss to his spine. “Welcome back.”
“Hi.” Nick braced for impact. This was the part where things would get awkward. Evan would make an excuse and escape to his room so they could dance around each other for days to come.
“Are you hungry, or is your stomach still bugging you?”
That wasn’t leaving. Nick fought the urge to squirm. “I should probably stick to toast for a while.”
“I can do toast. Let’s eat in the kitchen.”
That was an unexpected invitation, and Nick couldn’t help smiling. Evan kissed the back of his head again then left, while Nick stayed behind to pull on some sweatpants. By the time he got to the kitchen, Evan was buttering bread in a robe he must have grabbed from his own room, and there was a pillow placed on one of the hard kitchen chairs. Nick appreciated the consideration and sat while Evan puttered around before placing two plates of toast on the table—buttered for Nick, buttered with jam for himself—and sitting down across from him.
“All set?” Evan asked, and though his expression was neutral, his eyes were scrutinizing.
Nick looked at his plate as he ripped off a corner of the toast to chew and swallow. “Uh-huh.”
“You’re quiet after.” Evan didn’t say it like a judgment, just an observation.
Nick shrugged and went back to his food, waiting until he felt a bit more like himself before speaking. “Can I ask you about something?”
“The answer is yes, we can do that again anytime you like.”
“What?” Nick laughed, surprised at the candor. “No, that’s not—”
“So you don’t want to do that again?” Evan put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his upturned hand.
“That’s. Well. Yes, I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”
“Good. Because you’re fun to play with.”
“The thing is, I’m applying to be a foster parent,” Nick blurted.
Evan blinked, and for once, he looked lost for words. He recovered quickly, though, laughing a little. “Of all the things I thought you were going to say…”
“You think it’s stupid, right?” he asked, the back of his neck prickling with heat.
“On the contrary, I think it’s great.” Evan took a bite of his toast and shrugged.
“Really?”
“Sure. I mean, we’re clearly talking about Sydney, who obviously adores you.”
“You make it sound so simple.” Nick frowned, his fingers worrying a chip in the laminate of the table. “I still don’t have a job, and there are all these interviews, and a home visit.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Evan said with such surety that Nick was taken aback. “It’s just a checklist, right? You’ll make a plan and check things off.”
“Right.” He hesitated. “I was doing some research about it, and, uh… if there’s anyone else living in the house, they have to get a background check.”
Evan’s gaze dropped from Nick’s face to his plate. “Ah.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem, though. I ran one on you before you moved in.”
“Right,” Evan said, still not meeting Nick’s eyes. “I mean. Obviously, it wouldn’t. Just… do you think they’ll run a more comprehensive one?”
“I’m not sure.” Nick frowned, not liking the sound of that. “I just started the process, but Donna’s trying to expedite things. Is there… some reason you’re concerned?”
“No! Well. Maybe. The thing is, I’ve never been arrested, but I’m not sure what a deeper dive would turn up,” Evan said, his nimble fingers turning his napkin to shreds. “It would probably be fine, though. Like I said, there’s no record.”
“No record of what?” Nick asked, his stomach sinking as he imagined a whole host of horrible possibilities.
“So, before I met you, I kind of… supported myself in a slightly illegal manner. And it really shouldn’t be illegal, because if it could be regulated, then we’d all be a lot safer. The whole concept is rooted in misogyny and—”
“Evan. Just say it.”
“I was an escort.”
Nick fell back against his seat as the last vestiges of his endorphin high vanished. “You…”
“I swear to God, I don’t have a record. I was discreet, and so were my clients, and I only dealt in cash.” Evan’s nerves were evident as he rambled. “I bet that’s all they’re looking for, anyway.”
“You don’t know what they’re looking for!” Nick said, his good mood vanishing into the ether. Sure, in theory he agreed with Evan about prostitution, in that it would be safer for everyone involved if it were legal, monitored, and regulated—but that illicit behavior threatened to derail his chances of fostering Sydney.
“I could move out,” Evan said. “I’m month to month, anyway, so who cares, right? We’ll still be friends.”
The ease with which Evan proposed that solution made Nick’s stomach lurch, and while he wanted to attribute it to the toast, he knew better. It was a nonsensical, hormone-driven reaction. He and Evan didn’t owe each other anything. They weren’t a couple—they were hardly even friends. Sex was sex, and they’d both had fun—might even have fun again in the future—but Evan was right. They could do that without being roommates.
“Where would you go?” he said after a moment.
“Does it matter?”
Nick frowned then shook his head. “I wish you’d told me before.”
“It didn’t seem relevant,” Evan said quietly. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I might be a complication.”
There was genuine contrition in his tone. To Nick’s surprise, he felt compelled to offer comfort, so he reached across the table and squeezed Evan’s hand. “Look, let’s… not be hasty. I paid for a pretty damn good background check when you moved in—didn’t want to live with riffraff.”
Evan snorted, and Nick couldn’t help grinning.
“Anyway,” Nick continued. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you about the… complications around keeping prostitution illegal.”
Evan’s anxious expression softened, and he shrugged. “I was always safe. I got tested, and I picked my partners carefully, I swear.”
“I trust you.” As Nick spoke the words, he realized they were true. He and Evan were oil and water when it came to their personalities, but Evan was genuine. He’d been honest about knowing Ben and Max when it counted, he was a careful partner in bed, and frankly, he could have chosen not to tell Nick about the escorting, but he’d come clean.
That honesty meant something to Nick, who’d lived a lifetime of half-truths and outright lies told to him by people in power. It made him want to give Evan something in return. Some slice of his own truth.
“The thing is,” he said, clearing his throat. “The Sydney thing is sort of personal for me. I, ah, I was in the system, too, as a kid.” To his surprise, he found himself blinking back tears, which hadn’t happened when he told Donna and Sydney. But that was probably just a heightened emotional state brought about by the sex—some leftover subby buzziness. “I know what it can do to people—what it did to me—and I can’t watch her go through that. Not when I can do something about it.”
“Oh wow,” Evan said, and Nick allowed his worst fears to play out, worrying that Evan would judge him—say he shouldn’t foster because he was clearly fucked up from his experience. Instead, Evan stood up and came around to his side of the table, where he knelt beside him and placed both hands on his thigh. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t…”
“No, just wait. I’m sorry that happened, and you’re a really good person for wanting to help Sydney, which honestly sucks for me, because it was way easier when I thought you were just some bougie stuck-up, straight-acting snob.”
Laughter burst through the thickness in Nick’s throat, and he blinked a couple of times, looking up at the ceiling light. “Fuck you,” he managed.
“Fuck you, you martyr.” Evan took his hand then kissed the back. “We’re friends now, right? I’m gonna help you figure this out.”
“Friends,” Nick echoed. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone in his life who fit that description, and he wanted to hold on to it with both hands. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Evan gestured to their half-empty plates. “Right this second, however, I think it’s very important that we finish our food and then go watch a movie on the couch. Aftercare isn’t optional.”
Nick recoiled at the thought of something so twee, but that reaction was overruled by the bits of his brain that hadn’t been cuddled properly in years. “Sure,” he said, reaching for his toast. “If that’s an order.”