“Tell me,” Nick said. “How was your day?”
“I found it hard to concentrate. Felt like you were holding me all day.” Spencer blew out a breath. “Which meant I was trying to not get hard all day, just because I couldn’t, and because you said I can’t. Somehow . . .” Spencer frowned. “I tried to be good.”
Nick smiled and slipped an arm around Spencer’s waist. “You were. Not that you had much of a choice.”
“But I would have,” Spencer said. “Been good, I mean. Even without . . .” He gestured below the soft knot in his bathrobe’s belt, something that didn’t seem capable of hiding a steel cock cage.
“I know you would have.” Nick touched Spencer’s face and pushed himself up on the balls of his feet. Spencer obediently dipped his head, giving Nick perfect access to his lips. Just before Nick took advantage of that, he whispered, “That’s why you’re an amazing sub.” Then he kissed Spencer, and as Spencer wrapped his arms around him, plush terrycloth pressing against thin leather, Nick felt one muscle after another relax. Tension that had been knotting and pulling all over his neck and back eased, Spencer’s embrace having the same effect as one of his skilled massages.
Nick drew back enough to look Spencer in the eyes. “You have an early morning tomorrow. We should . . .” He tilted his head in the direction of Spencer’s bedroom.
“Good idea.”
They separated. The absence of Spencer’s body and his robe left a conspicuous layer of coolness over Nick’s skin and clothes. Almost enough to warrant a shiver as he followed Spencer down the hall.
The house was silent except for the quiet padding of Spencer’s slippers and the harsh, sharp tap of Nick’s boot heels on the hard floor. His footsteps quieted, though they were still heavier than Spencer’s, as they moved from hardwood to carpeting. Nick closed the bedroom door, and a few more muscles relaxed in his shoulders.
Spencer tilted his head. “You okay?”
Nick rolled his stiff shoulders. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just . . . tired.”
“Rough day at the office?” A playful but cautious grin tugged at one corner of Spencer’s mouth.
Nick laughed. “Something like that.” He stepped a little closer to Spencer and reached into his pocket for the set of tiny keys. “Take off the robe, and I’ll take off everything else.”
Spencer released a relieved sigh and quickly undid the belt. He shrugged off the robe and draped it over a bedpost.
Nick turned the keys over and over between his fingers. Spencer had worn the thing all day. He could wear it a moment longer while Nick just took in the sight of him, his gorgeous body and that metal symbol of enforced obedience. Overkill for someone like Spencer. A punishment for Nick’s sadistic glee more than actual discipline; Spencer had known immediately that he’d misstepped, and he’d apologized right away.
“So you’ve learned from wearing this, yes?” Nick asked anyway, grinning at Spencer.
Spencer nodded vigorously. “No coming without permission.”
“Good. I think it can come off, then.” He reached out and took the cage, lifting it to get at the lock. He didn’t rush this part, just enjoyed for a moment how much tension was in Spencer’s belly and thighs. He put the key into the lock, turned it, and pulled apart the ring that held everything together. Spencer exhaled in clear relief. His cock, once freed of the weight and, more importantly, everything that it meant, thickened and lengthened immediately.
“Now, that didn’t take long,” Nick observed.
Spencer looked apologetic, or tried his best to. “I was thinking of you all day.”
“I see.” Nick gently trailed his fingers along Spencer’s cock where the metal had rested all day. “Early start for you tomorrow. Get in bed. No touching.”
Spencer slipped under the covers, and demonstratively kept his hands on top of the duvet. Nick took his time stripping, though he did it in full view, knowing that Spencer was eating him up.
Again it struck him. He didn’t care if he impressed anybody else that way. The one guy whose mind he wanted to blow—whose mind was important to be blown—was right there in bed and trying not to look impatient. Now that he was off the clock for a few more days—again—that was exactly the problem. Timing. Time didn’t seem to matter with Spencer. And he had no clue how long this might last. He just didn’t get tired of Spencer. Weeks. Months. Years. He couldn’t put a name on this, not quite yet, couldn’t project himself into a future that had no real shape beyond his studies, and how long his savings would last. Too many unknown factors.