Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CLAY

"I know what I want," Nicholas says, and bites down on his smile, his eyes charged.

It's date night, one of the last ones we'll have at my place. In the bedroom and stripped down to our underwear, he's on his side next to me, and I'm sitting up, back to the headboard.

"For your birthday?"

He grins and sits up, too. "No. Tonight. But we can call it a birthday gift, if you want."

I growl under my breath, glad we're getting to more of his fantasies even though it's killing me to think of this ending.

"Happy birthday to me, too," I say, and Nicholas laughs.

"Let me tell you the fantasy first. And obviously, it's totally okay if this doesn't work for you. That's fine. But I grabbed a few spools of lace from the shop, and…" He swallows, a little shy. "What's your opinion of light bondage?"

Surprised, I lean back. "I don't know. I guess I've never thought about it."

He gives me a moment to think, and I try to gather myself together. "I've never tried anything like it," I say. And I've got no inclination to do something like that to him. The way he's free and uninhibited is always hot to me, especially during sex.

But then I think about him with lace around his wrists, not inhibited but indulging in something that he wants. The image of him, hard and horny, sends blood rushing to my crotch.

This is something I can give him, even if there are so many things I can't.

"You want me to be a dom?" I ask.

Nicholas smile. "Using the proper vocabulary and everything," he teases and sits up, kissing me lightly. "It's not a dynamic I'm looking for all the time. But I trust you enough to hand some power over, and I think it might be fun."

I take him in another kiss, feel his body quiver against mine.

I'm leaving soon, which means we'll say goodbye. It's killing me, but I have no idea what to do with the emotions that are storming through my heart. I don't know what I want to say or how to say it, but when we're together like this, I channel it all into every touch and kiss.

Try to show him what's beating inside me.

"Okay," I answer. "Let's see what you look like in lace."

The light that fills his expression is almost enough to break me.

"Sexy," Nicholas coos as he kisses me again before pulling away. "Thanks for trusting me enough to try this."

I nod. "Thanks for trusting me too."

Nicholas turns with the strand of black lace fluttering in his hand, and my pulse kicks.

If someone told me when I first got to Buffalo that I'd end up here, I'd never believe them.

Nicholas joins me on the bed again, and I watch the lace whispering over his torso, teasing his hard, tan nipples. As soon as he touches me, pulling his body over mine, desire scorches my nerve endings.

He'll be vulnerable with his hands tied, but I feel just as vulnerable to him.

I went through my whole life building walls around my heart, keeping myself safe, and now I'm here. Hard and aching in my bed, torn apart with how much I want him.

I'm walking right into heartbreak like a fool who doesn't know better.

I kiss him again, and Nicholas murmurs encouragement and appreciation under his breath. He pulls his hands together, and I take the lace, gently wrapping it around his wrists.

"Too tight?" I ask.

He shakes his heads, and I secure the lace with a loose knot. Nicholas pulls his hands lightly, feeling the restraints. "Don't think I've ever wanted to touch you so bad," he says.

I stroke his cheek, looking at him. "You look like a present."

"Good," he says, grinning, and kisses me again, his tied hands pressed between our torsos. "I read a book once where the characters did this, and I've always remembered it."

"What kind of books are you reading?"

"Dirty ones," he says. "Books filled with lots of ideas how I can drive you wild."

I lower him down to the couch and drag my mouth to his chest, kissing him as he whimpers appreciation.

"Yeah, Nicky," I encourage him. "Drive me out of my goddamn mind."

I've already lost it. I'm already totally broken for him, so why not?

I move slow and deliberate, kissing him everywhere, working up anticipation. He's splayed out beneath me, and all I can think about is pleasuring him.

I put my mouth at his ear. "How are you doing? Does this feel okay?"

"More than okay."

"Good." I paw at his side. "I like having your body all to myself."

I want you to always be mine , I think. Want to give him everything I have, too. But I know that's not how this story ends, so I bite my words back.

"I'm leaking for you, Nicky," I growl instead.

He licks his bottom lip and lets out a breathy response. "I'll clean you up."

My dick twitches. Pushing my underwear down, I free my erection and guide it to his mouth.

I grab the back of his head, helping him. All my muscles are taut. His mouth is warm and soft and wet, and the pleasure of it is pure torture, radiating from my core and obliterating my senses.

As I rock my hips, his sweet lips slide up and down my shaft, his tongue flicking at my tip. I can see in his watery eyes how much he's enjoying this, and the drive to pleasure him burns hotter.

"Working up a nice, big load for you," I manage.

He groans around my dick, and I thrust, my crown hitting the back of his throat. When I feel the heavy pressure of an orgasm building behind my balls, I drag my erection back, and he coughs out a breath.

"Still good?" I ask.

Instead of answering, Nicholas puts his tied hands behind my head, pulling me into another kiss. We make out and reposition, and my dick rubs against his ass. I reach sideways and grab the lube, which I use to slick up my shaft and between his cheeks.

It destroys my brain. Electrifies my muscles. He's giving himself over to me, and his moans of pleasure are all the reassurance I need that this is right.

I grind my wet crown against his rim until Nicky gasps and I enter him. He pulls his hands to his mouth and bites down hard on the lace, sweating and shaking.

I lock eyes with him as he takes me deeper, and our breathing matches up.

"Nicky," I growl.

"Clay," he says with a breath, lace across his teeth.

The bed creaks and rocks beneath us, and I bounce my hips up, fucking him deeper. Nicholas opens himself to me, letting me take charge. I'm right up against the edge of an orgasm, but I hold it together, finding his spot and plowing into him over and over.

"Good boy," I tell him, filling in the dirty talk, even though I'm nowhere near as good as he is. "Take that dick."

Uninhibited, Nicholas fucks me back with his ass, dragging pleasure from my root. I take the lace and lift his hands, pressing them to the headboard, fighting like hell not to climax.

Need to give him everything I can. Need him to be mine.

Nicholas jerks with his wrists firm against the headboard, and when I feel him nearing orgasm, I grind his spot nice and hard. It does the trick, sending him over the edge. Nicholas's dick shoots thick, white jets of cum, and his face twists into something beautiful and obscene as his hole clenches down on my rod. I pump my dick in him and release, flooding him as the world spins.

When I release his hands, Nicholas collapses against the bed. I tear the lace off and embrace him, pulling him close because I can't wait anymore. I need his touch.

I stroke his back, holding him while I can, trying to memorize every breath.

Because I'm totally wrecked, I even do the thing that I try not to let myself do. I imagine that Nicholas is staying here. That this is our home, and neither of us are leaving.

But of course, that's not true.

After some slow time in bed and a quick check-in to make sure we're both feeling good, Nicholas takes off, heading back to his place.

He does hesitate for a minute at the door, though, as I stand there with him, wishing I knew what to say. He strokes my cheek, lingering like he might want the fantasy in my head, too.

When he's gone, the pain behind my ribs is a good reminder why I need to leave town.

Nicholas wants and deserves something that I don't know how to give another person. I'll go back to being a loner, and hopefully, I haven't wasted too much of his time.

He's going to find the love he wants, and I'd be an asshole if I tried to stand in the way.

Suddenly miserable, I crawl into bed with a beer, put a home improvement show on my phone, and eventually fall asleep.

The next day is Nicholas's birthday, which is great. He's turning thirty, and that's awesome.

I'm happy for him and ready to celebrate, but that doesn't mean I'm suddenly looking forward to a big social event. Especially one where all the people in attendance are going to be gossiping about my sex life.

Annoying gayborhood. Why the hell do I care what any of them think?

Worst of all, I have to wear a goddamn costume. Because that's what Nicholas wants, and that's what everyone is going to do, so whatever. Maybe it will earn a smile out of him, and I'm not going to have many more chances to do that.

I hate everything.

The delivery from the costume shop arrived yesterday, but I haven't unzipped the bag yet. They told me on the phone that they only carry one flower costume, so that's the one I rented. I don't really know flowers enough to have a favorite, anyway.

When I pull it out, though, my stomach sinks.

It's even worse than I thought. There's a green body suit, and a hat thing that wraps around your head and looks like a sunflower.

Maybe I should just throw myself out the window. If I broke a few bones and had to go to the hospital, I'd have a solid excuse to not do this.

Except then I wouldn't be able to work.

My mind flashes back to Nicholas last night, riding my dick and murmuring those sweet, sexy sounds that I'm addicted to.

"Fuck my life."

I put on the costume, which is kind of baggy. First I try to add sunglasses, but that makes me look even more ridiculous. Cursing, I put on my boots and then add a light work shirt over the body suit, leaving it unbuttoned at the top.

That's a little better.

Thank god I'm about to leave town forever.

Steadying myself, I grab the paper bag with his present and head downstairs, ready to brave the short, two-block walk to the sex club.

At least I can try to leave him with a good memory. He knows me well enough—he'll take one look at me in this ridiculous costume and know that I cared.

Fuck, I hope he knows that I care.

"Clay!" a voice calls out, nearly bellowing across the street. I turn and see Harry, the director of the local theater, dressed in a very similar bodysuit situation, although his petals are purple and glittery. "Twins!" he calls as he hurries across the street to join me.

I look down at myself with a sigh. "Yup."

Harry joins me and plucks at the front of my work shirt. "But with your special butch touch. Very nice!"

I swallow, continuing to die inside while we walk side by side in our body suits. "How are you doing, Harry?" I ask.

"I'm lovely, thank you for asking! And very happy to celebrate our Nicholas." He hums under his breath. "Young romance! You do seem to be keeping him happy, if you don't mind me saying." Before I can add anything, he continues talking. "I remember when I was thirty. Nearly twenty years ago! Of course, fifty now is like thirty was in the early 2000s. Or at least that's what my esthetician says!" He gestures to the side. "And here we are at the Menagerie! Have you been yet?" Before I can answer, Harry laughs and pulls the door open for me. "Of course not! Nicholas isn't the type for public sex, now is he?"

What in the hell have I gotten myself into?

"Uh, no," I manage and walk through the door. The club is dark and there's some kind of techno music playing, but Harry hurries us straight to the back, where light shines through the rear door.

When we emerge out back, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust. As they do, my stomach sinks.

There must be nearly a hundred people in the spacious back garden, dressed in fashionable floral dresses, sharp and colorful suits with flowers pinned to their lapels, and floral rompers. I even see some Hawaiian shirts, some people who have made hats and laurels from fresh flowers, and a number of people with flowers painted on their faces.

But no one in a full-on flower costume but me and Harry.

"Everyone," Harry calls out dramatically, "we have arrived!"

All eyes turn toward us, and it takes all my will to not spin on my heel and walk away.

"Harry! Clay!" Nicholas says, emerging from the crowd. He's in a floral suit, and he's got flowers in his hair, pinned to his jacket, and painted with makeup across his eyes.

Fucking gorgeous. And not one little bit ridiculous, like my getup.

After greeting Harry, Nicholas turns to me with a surprised smile and pulls me into a hug. "Oh my gosh, you found a flower costume! Thank you, Clay!"

"I thought that was the instruction," I grumble, hugging him back lightly but not sure how to do this in public.

Nicholas reads my face and quickly gives me an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. I should have been clearer on what I meant by conceptual . I'm sure you hate this." He squeezes my arms as he looks at me. "I think you look amazing, but—" I start to groan, but he continues, "—would you be more comfortable if I found you something else to wear? Or at least a beer?"

My face feels hot. I feel like I'm screwing everything up. I feel like I've tried so hard to do this right and treat Nicholas right, and now I'm here in a humiliating costume as one final reminder that this isn't real. I don't belong.

"I won't stay long," I answer. "But a beer might help." I swallow and do my best to force a smile. "And, uh, happy birthday, Nicky."

But inside, I understand that it's time.

I've given him everything I can, and now I need to leave.