Chapter Four
Nolan was three lattes in, yet the caffeine hits weren’t enough.
Sleep had been hard to come by ever since he’d had the best flogging of his life and then had gotten rejected. James hadn’t even been cruel but respectful, yet the lingering feeling of being undesirable had been mounting by the day, threatening to overtake him.
Too difficult.
Nolan took the final sip from his mug and pushed up.
Micah would likely flat-out refuse if he tried to ask for another latte.
The screen glared back at him with his latest project, graphics for a socials campaign for Whipped’s classes for the next month.
Vanilla gatherings—he had no problem marketing those on regular socials—but any of the kink related content had to go through different channels.
However, Whipped was such a community establishment in the San Francisco scene at this point that getting the word out wasn’t hard.
“Fuck that shit,” Meg said, stomping into the back office.
His boss had short black hair in a side-shave, sharp features, and an innate strength that radiated outward even on her worst days.
She strode over and dropped a crumpled paper onto the desk.
“Did you see what they had the audacity to drop off?”
Nolan lifted a brow. “Ah, the ever-elusive they. Care to inform me who you’re referring to?” Still, he unfolded the paper to spot the problem. Euphoria, a new kink club, was advertising for their club night this upcoming month—which overlapped with Whipped’s next one. “Classy.”
Normally, events ran concurrently all the time, but ever since Euphoria had opened, they’d managed to schedule overtop of every single one of Whipped’s—including placing their weekly munch on the same day.
Meg plunked down beside him. “Apart from the fact Carter’s attracting shitty clientele, I can’t pinpoint anything specific as to why I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.
Kink clubs rise and fall here all the time, and they’re not usually a threat, but one of his guys, some smarmy bald dude, strolled in and asked us to put this up.
Big-ass shit-eating grin because the fucker knew what he was doing. ”
“Did you hear?” Fin said, swinging in with a shit-eating grin on their face. “Meg’s favorite club dropped off flyers, and she’s so excited.”
Meg lobbed a lazy punch to Fin’s arm. “You little brat.”
“To be fair, you rarely get riled up,” Nolan said. “It’s a unique opportunity for Fin.”
Meg shook her head, and her angry energy deflated like a balloon. She cracked an amused smile. “I needed to let it out somewhere, and I can’t on the floor. The vibe of their establishment is a steer-clear place, but they’re aggressively marketing to younger.”
“Typical predatory behavior,” Nolan muttered.
The abusers who masqueraded as Doms loved to groom newbies who didn’t know better.
The crew at Whipped did their best to offer genuine information so people weren’t stumbling into bad situations unaware, but damn, those problem circles always cropped up every few years or so.
“Maybe we need to do a heavier push of Intro to Kink classes?”
“Yeah,” Meg said, scrubbing her fingers through her hair. “That’s a good start.”
“We could always drop a flaming pile of shit at Euphoria,” Fin said with a shrug. “Fire’s the best solution.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Finesse has always been your strongest suite.”
“Do you think they’ll cause much of a disruption?
” Nolan asked, curiosity there. His stomach always flipped at the thought of any threat to their safe space, but in the years he’d been working at Whipped, they had managed to quash any challenging people or situations that arose.
And in the kink scene, there were plenty.
Meg wrinkled her nose. “I want to say no, but Carter’s a little too slick, a little too organized. I’ve seen those personality types before, and they’ve got the potential to infect a whole area.”
“Mother Meg, you’re such a ray of sunshine,” Fin proclaimed, a spark in their eyes. If they were a sub, they’d be in for such a spanking, but Fin only topped, which meant they thrived on everyone’s irritation.
“You need to grow your hair out so I can at least yank it,” Meg muttered, giving Fin a warning glance.
“Where’s the fun in that?” they responded. “This way, I can mouth off and then frolic away.”
“How very fae of you,” Meg said, heading over to her desk and settling in. “Noles, are you done the graphics you were working on?”
He blinked, switching focus to the screen. “Just putting on finishing touches. I’ll send them to you in a few minutes.”
“You’re done for the day anyway, right?” Meg asked before giving him a pointed look. Lately, he’d been pulling a lot of overtime, more because he wanted to be around people than alone at home. He needed to make some changes, and today would hopefully be the start of that.
If everything panned out.
His stomach churned. Today of all days, he couldn’t sit here and work for the next three or four hours, not when he had to be home.
“What’s the meaningful look for?” Fin asked, parking next to his desk. “Does Meg have blackmail on you and is using it to force you to do her very sexy bidding in a French maid outfit?”
Nolan snorted. “Stop projecting your fantasies out loud.”
“Mmm,” they said. “I should buy Ollie a fancy maid outfit. He’d look hot as fuck.”
“No lie there,” Nolan agreed. Fin’s sub-turned-boyfriend was ten years younger than them with big broad shoulders, gorgeous eyes, and a muscular physique. Nolan could see the appeal, even though a different man had haunted him lately. One who had zero interest back.
“Graphics, Noles,” Meg said. “Then go home.”
“Rude,” he responded, though he appreciated her watching out for him.
She always kept an eye out for everyone who worked here, making sure they operated in their best interests.
With the time of year he always got a little more skittish, a little more nervy approaching, he needed to make social plans instead of throwing himself into extra work.
Maybe a flogging with the sweaty, sexy payoff he’d hoped for last weekend.
Just not with the guy he lusted after.
“The showing is today, right?” Meg asked, not even trying to beat around the bush. “That why you’re avoiding going home?”
“Tristan is too nice to you,” he shot back. “You deserve more brats in your life if you’ve got this much time on your hands.”
“Mother Meg has me,” Fin said, wrapping their arms around Meg’s shoulders and resting their chin on her head. “I’m plenty to occupy her time.”
“Cute try, Noles,” Meg said. “I wouldn’t have sent someone your way if I thought they’d be a bad fit.”
Which was a kinder way of saying Meg figured they could put up with Nolan’s OCD ass. His tics had gotten immeasurably worse after the incident five years ago, but therapy and meds had helped. Still, living with someone was so complicated.
The average person wouldn’t understand why he had to lock the door five times at the end of the night or why, if the dishwasher was stacked incorrectly, he’d need to run the cycle all over again.
“We’ll see,” he said, shooting Meg the email she waited on.
With that, he started saving and closing his files.
He couldn’t stall anymore, even if he wanted to.
A film of dust would settle in the kitchen over the course of the day, and if someone else was going to be in his house, it needed to be cleaned off.
He chewed his lower lip until he tasted copper.
Maybe this was eating him up a little more than he wanted to admit.
“All right,” he said, standing from his desk. “I’m heading out.”
“Good,” Meg said, a twinkle in her eyes. “Go get yourself a roommate.”
“Make sure to prop up your St. Andrew’s Cross and your favorite canes so they know what you’re about,” Fin teased.
Nolan shook his head, snagged his messenger bag, and slipped it over his shoulder.
When he stepped out of the office, the scent of coffee and vanilla greeted him full force.
Micah stood behind the counter, chatting with regulars who waited for their orders.
The golden early evening rays streamed through the windows, sharpening the colors of the black tables and red accents.
The door opened, and Sloan and Ezra stepped inside.
“Where are you off to?” Sloan asked, scanning him over. “Leaving on time? The shock.”
Nolan rolled his eyes, even though a grin lifted his lips. Sloan was one of his best friends, and he’d been a steady presence over the years, even now that he was happily in a serious relationship with his partners, Ezra and Kai.
“What he means is he’ll miss you,” Ezra said, his tone dry.
Nolan leaned in and planted a kiss on Sloan’s cheek. “There, one for the road.”
“Not fair,” Sloan complained. “Now I’m horny, and you’re leaving.”
“You’ve got a Dom to handle that,” Nolan called back as he headed for the door.
The second he stepped outside, the crisp air curled around any bare skin showing, causing goose bumps to rise.
The golden hue of early evening had arrived, coating the city in gilt.
Nolan quick-walked to the nearest Muni stop, hands jammed in his pockets, his head full of bees.
He would’ve much preferred losing himself in work for a few more hours, but this was a good first step if he wanted to make any progress.
He clutched a pole as the light rail took off with a screech. His stop was a few down the line, but he didn’t have enough time for the leisurely stroll home because he was going to interview a prospective roommate. For the first time in…ever.
His other stints of living with partners had gone…
well, disastrously. The best he’d managed was keeping them three months after move-in because he was a fucking head case no one could tolerate living with for long.
But if separation was there, where some business professional needed a place but wouldn’t be around much, this wouldn’t be as difficult.
Nolan stared at the light rail ceiling as it zipped along to the next station—his.
Fuck, who was he kidding? This roommate situation would last as long as the others once they realized how particular he was.
No one at Whipped minded—everyone respected boundaries, people expressed their needs, and Meg made sure no one touched his workspace so he could keep it the way he needed.
No one also looked twice when he went to the bathroom to wash his hands at the top of every hour.
His phone buzzed, and he checked it. The name that popped up was one he hadn’t encountered in a long time. Franco.
He and his ex-boyfriend ended amicably after six months because Franco had gotten the job of a lifetime and moved away. Granted, that had been…what, a decade ago? Before the incident that caused his OCD to amp up to unbearable.
He opened the message.
When you get this, hit me up. I’d love to talk.
The light rail screeched to a halt, and Nolan slipped his phone into his pocket before hopping off.
He could respond to Franco later. He headed down the familiar street on the edge of the Mission District.
His pale yellow Victorian made a mark among several others in pink and light purple.
He traveled toward it on instinct—a path he’d cut his entire life, from childhood onward.
Ideally, he’d become an old cranky bastard on this street, rotting away on the porch step and calling obscenities at the birds.
Nolan climbed his steps, the early evening chill settling into him along with the nerves.
He opened his house and stepped inside, locked it, once, twice, three times, then went to the kitchen for his Lysol wipes.
These surfaces needed to be clean before someone would be stepping foot in his house.
He popped on a music theory podcast while he worked, the movements and repetition settling his nerves and the hum in his brain.
Once he finished the final surface, the clock glared at him. Five minutes until the expected arrival—which could be a total bust. Watch, he put in this effort just for the person to no-show.
A knock sounded at the door. Nolan straightened at once and headed toward his entrance. His heart thump-thump-thumped hard.
At the end of the day, he still had his house. He still had the crew at Whipped. Putting himself out there wasn’t life or death.
Even if the effort sometimes felt as much.
He drew the door open.
The man standing in the entry was one he’d seen this past weekend. Tall, broad-shouldered, and nicely dressed in a pale blue suit and a white button-down with the first few unbuttoned, he was fucking gorgeous. And the last person Nolan wanted to deal with right now.
James blinked, his mouth dropping open before he shut it quickly. “You know, I thought the road looked familiar. I should’ve pieced two and two together.”
“You’re the prospective tenant?” Nolan asked, his mouth drying. He couldn’t process this in the slightest, unsure if he loved or hated it. Though more likely hated it since James had plagued his thoughts for far too long and living with him would be complete hell.
James ran a palm over his face. “Damn, I’m sorry. I should’ve gotten more information before I wasted your time. I understand if you don’t want me here.”
The apology, the way he assumed he’d be a problem, slammed right in Nolan’s gut. They’d ended the night on sour footing, but James had remained respectful through the whole evening.
“You recently moved to the area for work, right?” Nolan asked. “Didn’t have a place yet?”
“Short-term rental, so I’m on the hunt for something else. Obviously, Meg misread this situation, and I’d be a terrible fit,” James said, his dark eyes softening. “I don’t ever want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”
Nolan’s gut reaction was fuck no, but in a few quick sentences, he’d changed his mind. James couldn’t help that he didn’t reciprocate the interest Nolan had, and he was a genuinely good person. If anyone would stand a chance at respecting Nolan’s needs, this man just might.
Nolan swallowed hard and stepped back. “Come on in.”
Guess he was doing this.