What He Fears Page 3

  Rory put his hands up. “Busted.” He winked at Nick. “Are you going to arrest me?”

  Rory watched a blush flash across Andrew’s cheeks before Nick pulled his attention away.

  “Behave.” Nick frowned at Rory, but Rory could see the mirth in his eyes.

  Rory drank in the sight of him and his chest constricted. How much longer could Rory justify keeping Nick, knowing that he’d never be enough for him?

  “Are you going to handcuff me if I don’t?” They both laughed because they knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that Rory would ever willingly subject himself to the bite of restraints on his skin.

  Andrew’s expression was a mixture of shock and curiosity, and maybe a little interest, and it wasn’t missed by Rory, who winked at Andrew. “Don’t look so shocked, Cub, he’d never get me into a pair of handcuffs.”

  “Cub?” Nick said, as he shot Rory a quizzical look. Rory shrugged. He didn’t know where that had come from either, but he wasn’t about to admit to it. Andrew’s innocence coupled with the way he latched onto Nick made Rory think of him as a baby bear, someone who gave friendship easily and had an endearing innocence. Someone who desperately wanted guidance and who clung to authority figures.

  Rory wanted to lean back and let Nick steer the conversation so he might examine Andrew a little more, but Nick knew all his tricks by now. He’d want to know why Rory was so interested in Andrew. He’d already pushed for this breakfast. If pressed, Rory would have to lie about sizing Andrew up to see if he was good enough for Nick.

  Rory could cut Nick loose and hope that he’d eventually find someone to fill the void, but when he saw the easy way the two men interacted, Rory realized it would be easier to let Nick go if Rory knew he had someone to grab onto. Rory forced a smile he didn’t mean and shoved the thought out of his head. He finished his tasteless toast and did his best to join in on the conversation.

  By the time breakfast was over Rory had come to one conclusion.

  Andrew and Nick were probably perfect for each other.

  Chapter Four

  Nick

  Nick knew he was in trouble when he finished his shift and thought of his date with Andrew. It wasn’t a date, it was breakfast with a friend and that’s exactly the reason Nick was in trouble.

  Andrew’s honey-hued hair, his blue eyes, and easy smile had become things Nick dreamed about. The line of his clavicle. The curve of his ass. The slope of his neck. Nick dreamed of those, too.

  In the past, Nick had been a great judge of whether or not someone was submissive or dominant, gay or straight, and whether or not they were into him. Andrew was definitely a sub, mostly likely bisexual, but Nick couldn’t decide if Andrew was into him or not.

  Sometimes Nick felt as if he had been firmly placed in the friend-zone, which wasn’t at all a bad thing. Andrew was an easy-going guy. He was fun to be around. Being his friend was in no way a hardship. Other times, he’d swear he’d caught Andrew’s gaze lingering on him.

  Andrew, quite unlike himself, poked at his breakfast. Nick swore the man had a hollow leg the way he could pack away the food, but today he spent more time pushing his hash browns around his plate than he did eating them.

  “What’s up?” Nick asked as he flicked his gaze up to Andrew’s face. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  Andrew nodded and continued poking his food around his plate. Nick, quick like lightning, snatched the fork out of Andrew’s hand and laid it gently on the table. Nick straightened his spine and pinned Andrew with his gaze.

  “What’s up?” Nick asked again, but firmer.

  Andrew dropped his gaze. His fingers tugged at the napkin his knife had been resting on and he took it into his fingers, twisting it. “What’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?”

  “What you do with Rory. What Everett does with Xavier. What’s it like?”

  “Submission, you mean?” Nick leaned back and relaxed his shoulders. “Why the sudden curiosity? Is it because of what you saw in Everett’s house? His kinky little dungeon.”

  Andrew shrugged a shoulder. “I never really gave it any thought, not until I learned about Everett, but, now I can’t stop wondering what it’s like. Why do people do it?”

  Nick’s cock thickened and strained against his jeans, which was not an appropriate reaction to his friend asking him a question. An almost perfectly innocent question. Nick grabbed his coffee and gulped half down to fortify himself. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm and rational and to not imagine his hands on Andrew’s skin as he pinned him down, or his thighs straddling Andrew’s ass as he caged him against the floor.

  “It’s not the same for everyone, and it’s different for me, because I switch.” Nick sucked in a deep breath. “But when I let go, when I give myself over to Rory, it’s like… falling. I fall away from myself and the world and everything else and Rory catches me. He catches and keeps me safe, and it’s nice, because the only thing I have to worry about is what he wants. It’s easy, you know, to shut everything else off. And when we’re done, he stays with me until the world comes back into focus. Sometimes, that’s my favorite part. When I’m too tired to think and my entire body is still sort of singing from everything he did for me and put it through, and he’s just… there.”

  A lump formed in Nick’s throat and he coughed, then swallowed. He wasn’t used to revealing so much, being this vulnerable with someone who wasn’t Rory, who didn’t demand it of him. But Andrew’s sad confusion tugged at Nick. He wanted to make things better for him, and if he could by sharing himself more than he usually would, he was willing to be uncomfortable and open for him. “It’s like, the world is still there, but it’s softer around the edges, and Rory is there, and it’s… I still feel connected to him, but we’re just two men in those moments. Not Dom and sub, just Rory and Nick.”

  Andrew nodded, but didn’t respond beyond a simple, “That sounds nice.” Nick learned that was Andrew’s way. He liked to think things through and examine them from every possible angle. “But you switch. What’s it like on the other side of the coin?”

  Nick shifted in his seat. This conversation was not good for his cock, now hard to the point of discomfort. “When I’m a dom…” Nick frowned and looked down at the table. He watched Andrew rip the napkin to shreds, a bit at a time his fingers worked to pluck the flimsy paper apart. “When I Dom it’s not about control. No, that’s not right…” Nick took a breath and started again. “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”

  Andrew lifted his gaze. “I tried googling it, but I sort of hate the internet. I’m never sure what’s an accurate source, or I get led on wild goose chases through search engine results.” He dropped his gaze again and went back to shredding his napkin. “And I’d rather hear it from you.”

  Nick nodded. “I became a cop because I like to help people, and that has a lot to do with why I Dom. I like taking people to that special place where their problems are gone. I like giving them what they need. I like the feeling it gives me, knowing they trust me like that.”

  “And you need both?”

  Nick nodded. “I need the feeling I get from being a Dom. That I’m…” good enough, worthy enough, strong enough. “Deserving of someone’s trust.”

  Andrew nodded, and Nick wished he could tell what he was thinking. He wanted to be able to peel Andrew’s layers back until he found the man underneath.

  Andrew’s expression changed like a light going off and he grinned at Nick. “There’s a concert in the park in a few weeks. It’s a fundraiser for the local youth shelter. You should come, bring Rory. Everett and Xavier will be there, too.”

  The rapid change of subject was also something Andrew did often. Whenever he was inundated with new information to process, it was as if he gathered up all the data, then shoved it into a separate part of his brain for him to deal with later. Then he’d chew through all he’d learned, a bit a time, turning it over in his mind until it made sense.


  Nick returned Andrew’s bright smile. “I’ll run it by Rory.” Rory, who would be massively pleased to know Andrew no longer hated him and wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid him any longer.

  “Speaking of Rory, don’t you have to run? You said you two were meeting up after breakfast.”

  Nick didn’t want to go. He wanted to see Rory, he always wanted to see him. Rory had been the center of everything for so long that it was impossible not to be addicted to him, to his laughter and his touch, the feel of his fingers skittering down Nick’s spine and the sound of his voice in his ear. But Nick wanted to stay with Andrew. He liked talking to him. He liked hanging out with him.

  Nick nodded. “Yeah. You sure there wasn’t anything else you wanted to ask me?”

  Andrew shook his head and pulled his wallet out. He counted out some money and left it on the table, tucked under the napkin dispenser. “Breakfast is on me.”

  Nick watched Andrew leave, conscious of the pull he felt to the man. Whether Andrew felt it too was another story entirely, one Nick would have to puzzle out later. He walked with Andrew through the parking lot and watched him until he climbed into his vehicle and drove away. Only then did he start his own car and head for Rory’s house.

  Nick had barely knocked when the door flew open and a hand latched onto his shirt. Rory dragged him inside, shoving the door shut as he pulled Nick down into a ferocious kiss.

  Nick moaned as he melted into Rory. Rory, who felt more like Nick’s home than his own condo. Nick’s smile pressed against Rory’s kiss. “Miss me?” Nick gripped Rory’s waist, then bent and kissed along Rory’s fuzzy jawline, stubble scraped his lips. He mouthed the shell of Rory’s ear, his tongue traced the edge. It amazed Nick how Rory could take him from zero to needy with a look or a touch, a simple command or a blistering kiss.

  Rory’s fingers danced up Nick’s body. They tugged at the hem of his shirt, teased the skin underneath, then abandoned that quest and travelled up. Nick stilled when Rory held his face, one warm palm on each cheek. Sincerity swam in Rory’s denim-blue eyes, the color of a well-worn, favorite pair of jeans. “Nicky,” he breathed. He watched Rory’s eyes flutter shut and his brow pinch together. He watched as Rory leaned in and got too close to see him properly. The kiss was soft and tender, the barest brush and a single word was spoken against his lips. “Always.”

  Nick fisted Rory’s shirt, crushed his nails into the fabric and held onto him.

  “Kneel, Nicky.”

  Rory kept a hand on one of Nick’s cheeks as he sank to the floor. He pressed into the touch, the gentle affirmation that in this moment, he belonged to Rory. Nick kept his breathing steady despite the fact that he wanted to suck in a deep breath and let it shudder out of him. It ached down inside, the knowledge that he only got moments with Rory. Moments, precious like pearls, strung together by a thread. Nick’s greatest fear was that one day there’d be no thread left, no thing left at all to tie the moments to each other, to tie him and Rory to each other.

  So he kneeled and leaned into Rory’s touch and savored it.

  He drank in the soundless way Rory undid his pants. The silence soaked into his skin as he watched, enthralled, as Rory reached into his briefs and pulled out his thick, uncut cock. The quiet stillness of the moment calmed Nick, smoothed out the ragged edges that scraped at his insides. He raised his gaze and met Rory’s. Rory’s tongue slid out and glided over his lower lip.

  “Open.” Rory brought the tip of his cock to Nick’s lips as he spoke the word.

  Nick’s mouth fell open. He knew Rory. He knew what Rory was going to command before the word ever rolled off his lips, but Nick waited, always, for Rory to order it. Give, then take. That’s how Rory liked it. Give an order, then take Nick’s submission.

  “Tongue out.”

  Nick obeyed. His breathing deepened and his eyes hooded. Rory slid his cock along Nick’s tongue. Long slow drags. Back and forth.

  “Close your eyes.”

  The world went dark. Rory’s fingers plunged into Nick’s hair. Nick shuddered at the scrape of a fingernail against his scalp. The rush of blood through his veins, his heavy breaths, his pounding heart were the only sounds Nick was left with. The only thing he could feel was the unforgiving hard tile under his knees, Rory’s hands, embracing his skull, and Rory’s thick cock as it slammed into the back of Nick’s throat.

  Rory shoved his cock deeper.

  Nick’s arms twitched when he gagged on Rory’s cock.

  “Yes.” The word sounded as if it had been dragged out of Rory, from deep down inside of him, down in a part of him Nick could only reach when he was on his knees.

  Rory thrust in again. Harder this time. He moaned when Nick gagged. He held Nick’s head against him, Nick’s nose brushed his skin as Nick’s throat constricted, muscles caressing flesh.

  Rory pulled back and Nick sucked in a breath of air, then thrust in again. Rory’s fingers bit into his scalp. He felt Rory’s hips twitch as he thrust his cock deeper, harder, chasing a rhythm, a place where the ideas of deeper and harder melded together into a long string of perfect yes.

  Saliva dripped out of the side of Nick’s mouth when Rory pulled back. Air, sweeter than the last breath, rushed into his lungs, then was taken again as Rory plunged back inside. Sounds flooded Nick’s universe. Rory’s ragged breathing. His guttural moans. A sound that could’ve been a whimper came right before the final cry as Rory clutched Nick’s head so hard it hurt and came down his throat.

  Then Rory was on his knees in front of him. His arms wound around Nick’s neck, his tongue thrust into Nick’s mouth. “Fuck me, Nicky, please. I need it.” Despite the fact he just came, Rory begged and rutted against him. “Fuck me. Please. Take me to bed.”

  With a little effort, Nick rose to his feet and entwined their fingers together. Topping Rory wasn’t anything new for Nick, but he had to wonder about the frantic edge to Rory’s voice. The desperate need painted Rory’s features and Nick wondered if this was it. Had he finally waited long enough? Was this Rory’s breaking point? Nick followed Rory into his bedroom and watched as he tugged his shirt over his head and shimmied out of his jeans.

  Rory closed the distance between them with a few steps and reached for the zipper of Nick’s pants. Rory’s cock was still soft and sated, but Rory’s eyes burned with hunger. He untucked Nick’s shirt. Nick tugged it off over his head, discarding it while Rory tugged his pants and briefs down his legs.

  Rory brushed a kiss against Nick’s lips, smiling at him when Nick chased him and he spun away. Nick huffed out a soft laugh. That was his Rory. Close enough to touch him one moment, and out of his orbit the next. Forever spinning, teasing, tormenting. His wild, blue-haired enigma. Rory crawled up the bed, his perfect round ass swayed back and forth. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Nick. “Come here, Nicky.”

  Nick went. He let Rory lay him out on his back. Rory stretched out on top of him and cupped his face. He kissed Nick deep, mapping the inside of his mouth with long gentle licks as he ground against him. When they were both hard and panting, Rory knelt over top of him, straddling him. Nick grabbed the supplies from the nightstand and tossed him the lube while he rolled a condom on.

  He pinned Nick in place with his gaze while he reached back and with two well-lubed fingers, stretched himself. Nick wanted to reach for him, to touch him, yank him closer, flip him over, pin him down and thrust inside of him until all their bones were dust. He wanted to stay with Rory forever.

  Rory reached back and gripped Nick’s cock. He lined it up with his entrance and slowly sank down onto it. Hands pressed against Nick’s chest, he rocked back and his fingertips dug into Nick’s flesh.

  Nick couldn’t control himself. He reached for Rory. Grabbed his hips, drove his cock deep, hard. Rory’s head fell forward.

  “Yes, Nicky, yes. Please. Touch me.”

  Nick let his hands slide all over Rory’s body. He skimmed his hands up his sides, muscle rippled and Nick’s finge
rtips grazed over bone. Rory had always been slender, but strong. Nick watched him arch his spine and tilt his head back. He was beautiful in his graceful abandon. His fingers dug into Nick’s chest as Rory rolled his hips. His orgasm was too close. He wanted to stay connected to Rory, like this, when his chest was flushed pink and his pupils were blow wide. “Roar, please.”

  Rory pressed down on Nick’s chest harder with one hand and used the other to wrap around his cock. He grabbed Rory’s cheeks and hauled him into a kiss, tongues battling, breath panting back and forth as Rory jacked himself to completion, painting Nick’s stomach with his release. It tipped Nick over the edge. He wrapped his arms around Rory, fingers found purchase in flesh. His mouth pressed against Rory’s neck and he cried out, the sound muffled by flesh.

  Rory relaxed on top of Nick and rested his head next to Nick’s. His fingers trailed over Nick’s chest. Rory exhaled, warm breath washed over Nick’s skin with a small satisfied sigh.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Rory’s fingers traced a line down the side of Nick’s throat.

  “Not even a little.”

  “Good.” Rory lifted his head and slanted his mouth over Nick’s. He kissed him long and slow with a tenderness that made him ache, then laid his head back down and relaxed into Nick’s embrace.

  Chapter Five

  Andrew

  Back when Andrew’s dick had first decided to be interested in his best friend Everett, horror and shame had rolled through him. He’d been straight his whole life, and the new interest in his friend confused him. He’d heard the term, gay for you, but he didn’t realize at the time that it was an actual thing, until it happened to him. And here it was again.

  Nick liked to run in the morning before the streets filled with people. He liked to run through the park and they always stopped at the pond in the middle to rest and watch the ducks before heading back. He watched Nick raise his hands above his head and stretch. The grey T-shirt he wore rode up to reveal a sliver of skin and a dusting of hair leading south. Andrew averted his gaze when he recognized the familiar stirrings of attraction. It wasn’t something he often felt.