Legal Bindings

29. Nick

It was nearlytwo o’clock by the time Nick arrived home, having dropped Sydney off first. Evan was sitting on the front porch in one of the two swings Nick had paid a bundle for when curb appeal had been the only thing that mattered to him. With the inspection looming, he wished he’d prioritized differently. Evan, as ever, was wearing what would have looked like a costume on anyone else—a scarf tied around his head, paired with bright-blue dungarees and a T-shirt advertising the Klickitat County Fun Run, 2003.

“Hi.” Nick mounted the stairs.

“Hi.” Evan marked his place then set the book to the side and shifted to make room on the swing. “How’s Syd?”

Nick sighed and sat, feeling some tension ebb at the question. It was nice to have someone to talk to. “She acts fine, but…” He ran a hand through his hair then rubbed the back of his neck. “I think she’s more upset about her mom than she lets on. And it bothers her that her brother’s not that upset. She asked me on the ride home if I remembered anything from when I was four, because that’s how old he was when they were taken away, so clearly, she’s wishing he remembered at least a little more so she’d have someone to be sad with.”

“Or mad with,” Evan said, leaning over to replace Nick’s hand with his own on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

“That too.” He sighed. “She asked me about a funeral, and I have no clue. Estates and probate were never my area, and even if they were, that’d be rich people’s money.”

“I’m sure Donna will know more.” Evan leaned in to rest his forehead against Nick’s temple. “And then you can talk to her. Or figure out your next move.”

Nick nodded, closing his eyes as Evan worked out the knots tied tight to the muscles beneath. “I think Sydney might want a service. She said her mother was kind of religious, and there’s something to be said for closure.”

“Sure.” Evan’s fingers paused. “If you’re worried about the expense, I can help. I sold a couple paintings last night, so I’m pretty, ah… solvent at the moment.”

Nick hesitated. Part of him wanted to say no—a small, selfish part that insisted Sydney was his responsibility, his would-be ward. But Evan wasn’t trying to be territorial—he was trying to help, and Nick would be a fool to let pride stand in the way of a kind offer. “Thank you. I don’t know quite what it’ll entail. I’ve never planned a funeral before.”

“Neither have I, but I’m sure that’s not uncommon.”

“Right. Just…” He sighed, a memory of his grandmother’s service jumping unbidden into his brain. There hadn’t been anyone there for her save Nick, his social worker, and one of Nick’s aunts. He hadn’t spoken to the aunt because she hadn’t wanted him. None of his mother’s siblings had stepped up, in fact, and most of them hadn’t even come to the funeral. He got it, in a sense—his grandfather had been a monster of a parent, though by the time Nick knew him, he was senile. Though it wasn’t fair to his grandmother, Nick’s aunts and uncles had abandoned her, one by one, because she’d always taken her husband’s side. As if he hadn’t been hurting her too.

“Just what?” Evan prompted.

“Nothing. Never mind. I’m exhausted, and my brain isn’t working anymore.”

“It’s been a long couple of days.” Evan’s probing fingers gentled, and he placed his hand flat on the back of Nick’s neck. “Feel free to say no, but any chance you want me to get you out of your head for a while?”

“Um, yes, actually,” Nick said before he could second-guess the instant rush of desire the question brought about. “That’d be really good.”

“Hard or soft?”

“Hard, please.” If he was going down, he wanted it to hurt so it would feel all the better once he was under.

“Sure. You want to go clean up a little? I can meet you in your room.”

Nick nodded, taking Evan’s meaning as he headed inside, where he was shocked to find the house scrubbed clean and smelling of Pine-Sol and Pledge. Turning, he went right back onto the porch. “Did you clean?”

“Mm-hmm,” said Evan, not looking up from his book. “You were busy, and it’s one less thing on your plate.”

Nick didn’t hesitate before crossing the porch to kiss him, the angle awkward but worth it for the surprise on Evan’s face at being confronted with a bumped forehead and a tongue in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Nick said upon pulling back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Evan kissed the tip of his nose. “I know I didn’t. I wanted to. Now, go get ready for me.”

Nick went to his room, marveling at every detail along the way. If he wasn’t mistaken, Evan had even cleaned the baseboards. He pictured the inspector getting on their knees to run a white-gloved finger along the wood. “Very good,” they would say. “We don’t allow foster parents with dirty baseboards.”

Grinning, Nick headed into the bathroom, where he prepped and splashed some water on his face. Evan was waiting on the bed when he emerged, two multitailed leather floggers at his side. Nick shivered, licking his lips. He’d asked for hard, and that would fit the bill. It had been years since anyone had flogged him, and his cock twitched at the prospect.

“Ready?” Evan asked. Nick nodded. “Undress then stand facing the wall, arms above your head, legs spread. Give me a clean canvas.”

The orders were simple, and Nick did as he was told. Pressing his palms flat against the wall, he shuffled his feet apart.

“Nicely done,” said Evan. He heard the familiar squeak of bedsprings, followed by the soft kiss of leather against his skin as Evan trailed a flogger up his thigh with tantalizing slowness. “You’re nearly hard.”

Nick shifted his weight from foot to foot then exhaled. “I like floggers.” He also liked Evan, who was driving the physiological response far more than any implement could.

“Good to know.” That was the last thing Evan said before he began crisscrossing the leathers against the skin of Nick’s shoulder blades and back with rhythmic precision.

It didn’t hurt much to start, but flogging was a slow burn—a fissure in the earth, where at first only a bit of steam escaped, but the pressure built below the surface. Blood rushed to pool beneath Nick’s skin as the blows grew harder. Then, suddenly, it became too much. A blistering geyser bursting forth, turning every stroke agonizing. Nick teetered on the brink for only a moment before his body took over, pulling him back from the edge of too much as it fed him endorphins and allowed him to sink, just a little, into the soft recesses of his mind.

“There you are,” Evan said from close behind.

Close enough to—Ah.

Nick’s hips jolted forward as Evan’s hand wrapped around his dick to give it a few firm strokes. “All right?”

“Nngh.” That was articulate. Nick turned his head to look over his shoulder, helpless, and found Evan waiting with a kiss. “More?”

“More of this?” Another stroke. “Or that?” The handle of the flogger pressed to his thigh.

“That.” He licked his lips. “Then this.”

Evan chuckled, scraping his teeth against the inflamed skin of Nick’s shoulder before pulling away. When the floggers fell again, the blows were harder. More precise. Aimed at Nick’s back, still, but his ass and thighs, too, with an errant tail or two occasionally catching his balls or taint, and yes, that was good. It was what he wanted—the deep-down bellyache that came from being broken open and vulnerable with someone who didn’t care that he was weak because they knew the weakness came from the strength of his submission.

“Turn around,” Evan said, and it took Nick a moment to realize the hits had stopped.

Blinking at the sudden intrusion of reality, he turned, vaguely aware of his cock jutting out at an obscene angle and the fact that he was crying.

Evan surveyed him, eyes flicking over his chest and stomach, before he gave a smile that sent a shiver down Nick’s spine. “Halfway done. Hands over your head.”

Nick licked his lips and held up his arms, folding them across the top of his head and leaving himself open to Evan’s expertly wielded strikes, which landed precisely where he meant them to, in places that made Nick gasp and sob. His arms shook, and his thighs trembled as Evan burned to the heart of him until he had nothing left to give and, with a groan, dropped to his knees.

“Oh, good boy.” Suddenly, Evan’s arms were around his shoulders, and Nick leaned into him with a muffled sob that was half joy and half misery—the perfect state. Evan soothed him for a moment then whispered, “I want to fuck you, Nicky,” into his ear.

There was guidance, then, and soon the mattress was beneath him, though Nick couldn’t recall walking to his bed. The cheap comforter scratched at his raw, reddened skin, and he whined, rubbing himself against it because the sensation was terrible and wonderful, and he wasn’t so much a man as he was a collection of pleasure-seeking nerve endings.

Evan was moving around, and Nick was vaguely aware of the sound of a foil wrapper tearing, followed by the feel Evan’s lube-slick finger opening him up. He pushed back against the intrusion, relishing the burn, and when Evan curled his finger a certain way and found his prostate, Nick gave a shout, grinding his neglected cock against the mattress.

“Eager,” Evan said, or at least, that was what Nick thought he said—it was hard to tell what with the blood rushing in his ears. “Up.”

That order was clear and accompanied by a smack to his flank. After dragging himself onto elbows and knees, Nick let his head hang between his forearms, limp and exhausted. Evan settled between his calves, and soon, Nick felt the press of Evan’s cock against his entrance. With a grunt, he arched his back and willed his muscles to relax and then—Yes—Evan was there, working his way inside, stretching Nick open as he dragged his fingernails down the reddened skin of his back, awakening the dormant pain and making him scream.

“Touch yourself,” Evan panted, which was the last command he gave before beginning to fuck, deep and rough and vicious, his hips slamming against Nick’s sore thighs time and again.

Nick reached for his cock and stroked himself with ruthless intensity, not wanting to waste time on buildup or matching Evan’s rhythm but simply wanting to come—which he did in an embarrassingly short time, shooting onto the mattress with a whine as Evan continued to pound into him. Pleasure quickly turned to overstimulation, and Nick let out a frustrated whine. Evan took it as an invitation, reaching around to knock his hand away and take hold of his cock with the intent to torture. There was nothing in the world quite so deliciously awful as being polished off after orgasm, and Nick howled.

“God, the noises you make.” Evan’s hips slammed home again and again, close but not quite there, as though bound and determined to make Nick scream again.

He was succeeding. Soon enough, Nick was begging him to stop, only Evan didn’t, because stop wasn’t a safe word, and Nick didn’t really want that at all. With one final vicious squeeze, Evan released his grip on Nick’s cock so he could take hold of his hips instead, digging his fingernails into the tender skin before shoving him down to the mattress and riding him hard until he came with a gasp and a shudder.

When Evan’s smaller body landed on Nick’s abused back, Nick could swear he felt Evan’s heartbeat through his skin. They lay still for a while, catching their breath, until Evan pulled back, separating their sweaty bodies.

Nick whined, and Evan laughed, kissing his shoulder. “I’m not going far, just getting rid of the condom.”

Evan returned with a towel, which he used to wipe up, then deposited on the floor before getting back into bed. Nick turned on his side to face him, and Evan smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Feeling all right?”

“Wrung out,” he said, his voice cracking. Apparently, he’d screamed himself hoarse.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s so fucking sexy when you get loud, Nicky.” Evan kissed him, which shut down any possible self-recrimination Nick might have been planning. “How’s your head?”

“Dopey.”

“I figured. You took a lot.” He pulled back a few inches to study him. “But you feel better?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to take a nap?”

Nick nodded. They didn’t need to talk anymore, and the fact that Evan wasn’t going to push for conversation made Nick love him all the more.

No, not love. Like him. Because it was nonsense to think he could be in love with Evan. Or that Evan was the person he wanted to come home to, the first person he thought of when it came to seeking advice on Sydney or work. It was nonsense to think Evan would ever want him back when Evan could have—had had—so many better, easier people.

Still, who was to say he couldn’t fantasize a little as he drifted off to sleep?