Nick took him by the shoulder and elbow, led him around the bed, though Spencer shuffled on his knees, somehow not coordinated enough to stand and walk. He pushed up a bit and managed to flop across the mattress, opening his legs almost in afterthought.
“Roll onto your back,” Nick ordered, so Spencer obeyed, sucking in a hiss of breath when his raw skin met the bedclothes. Nick pulled off his own trousers while Spencer got used to the throbbing burn that felt no different from abrasions, a whole body full of them, and he guessed he had to be covered in welts. And maybe that was the reason why Nick wanted him on his back: it would hurt more.
But Nick had given the order, so he didn’t resist or hesitate much. It was a constant sting rather than the blooming pain after a hit, no surprises, no anticipation.
Nick climbed onto the bed, preparing himself. He prodded Spencer’s legs apart, and Spencer let him, not aware of arousal or pain, though he figured there had to be both of them. They just didn’t seem to matter.
Nick moved on top of him and started to push in; Spencer gasped at the blunt sense of pressure, the steady burn, but he knew by now how to take Nick, and Nick had used plenty of lube on himself.
“Look at me.”
The hard part. Spencer pried his eyes open with sheer obedience rather than determination. Nick’s young sharp features were flushed, green eyes gleaming with mischief, 124
maybe, or pleasure, as he slid all the way into him, triggering that electricity again and hilting himself completely. Spencer couldn’t help it—he smiled.
So did Nick. And then Nick leaned forwards. Down.
As soon as Spencer realised what Nick was doing, he raised his head and met him halfway, grabbing onto the back of his neck as Nick crushed his mouth in a demanding kiss. No holding back now. No pretending they shouldn’t or wouldn’t, just giving in and letting go, and kissing him like this was the way things were supposed to be.
Nick groaned against Spencer’s lips and thrust harder.
Spencer could barely keep his grip on Nick’s neck, and every time Nick’s cock slid across the hypersensitive spot deep inside, Spencer was a little closer to forgetting how to kiss him. Hell, how to breathe.
Nick pulled back, and Spencer’s hand slid off his neck as Nick pushed himself up onto his arms. He was going for broke now, fucking Spencer harder, faster. The bed frame groaned and protested underneath them, threatening to come apart if Nick gave Spencer even a little bit more.
The bedding was coarse under Spencer’s raw skin, every motion sending burning reminders through his nervous system of the spectacular beating Nick had given him, turning him on even more. He might not be able to move tomorrow, but he didn’t give a fuck.
Spencer struggled to keep his eyes open. They kept tearing up and trying to roll back, but damn if he was missing a single second of Nick like this: sweaty, dishevelled, every cord and vein standing out in his neck and shoulders. Jaw clenched, muscles tight, all hard, sinewy power, he was the very picture of control even as he pushed Spencer towards that moment when control was out of the question.
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Nick closed his eyes. “Oh . . . fuck . . . ”
And Spencer lost it. His raw shoulders dug into the bed, and his eyes rolled back, and somehow he found Nick’s sweat-slicked arms and grabbed on, and hot semen landed on his chest as Nick whispered curses and . . . fuck, fuck, Spencer’s senses couldn’t take any more, couldn’t get enough, couldn’t take another damned second, please, please don’t stop . . .
Nick forced himself as deep as Spencer could take him, shuddered, and cursed one last time. Spencer blinked his eyes into focus just in time to see Nick in suspended animation, that frozen couple of seconds between release and col apse.
And then Nick exhaled. Let his head fall forwards. And slumped over Spencer.
So, Spencer thought idly, half-heartedly waving away the idea of sleep, that was what Nick looked like when he didn’t fuck for money. Softer. Trusting. It felt like a privilege to see him like this. He closed his arms around Nick, felt him breathe heavily, chest pumping while he rested on top of Spencer.
Right now, holding him felt natural, right, like they belonged together like this, and the pain and the sex were really the same thing, each heightening the other.
Spencer kissed Nick’s temple, something he’d never done before, and relaxed for a few more minutes, shifting just enough to lower and stretch out his legs and for Nick to slip free. Nick disappeared briefly, likely taking care of the condom, and then returned.
After Nick cleaned them up, they lay in silence for a long time, Spencer idly stroking Nick’s shoulder with an open palm, somehow managing to stay awake. The pain in his back helped.
Eventually, he rolled to the side and set Nick carefully down next to him. Their legs were still tangled, and all Spencer did was pull the covers up to their hips.
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More time passed while Spencer watched Nick rest, studying the veins on his lower arms, the faint lines of his now relaxed muscles—the same that had wielded the whip with so much precision and power for God knew how long.