Rules to Live By Page 3

  Bullshit.

  He’d been lying to himself for years.

  This was what he’d wanted all along. That was why last weekend had been so good. Why he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since Navin had presented him with his clothes and belongings—like a reward, though Marquis hadn’t wanted to take them—and Marquis had gone back to his real life.

  He could see the theme taking shape in his life now, the way he’d pushed Navin to take control in so many subtle and not-so-subtle ways—showing up late again and again, being distracted by work when Navin was right there to pay attention to . . .

  What he’d needed, what he’d been forcing without helping Navin understand, was to be taken in hand. Dominated. Punished.

  How could he have expected Navin to know what he wanted when he hadn’t even known what he wanted until now?

  He was lucky Navin hadn’t given up on him ages ago.

  Now he just had to find a way to communicate to Navin what he’d realized about himself, and without chickening out at the last minute. If he didn’t tell Navin what he wanted, nothing would ever change. They’d always be in this limbo, unstable and uncertain.

  Beep, beep!

  Marquis looked away from his computer to see his phone flashing on the desk. Five o’clock on a Wednesday. The alerts Navin had set up last weekend had kept him on track for a whole three days now.

  Marquis swiped his finger over the screen, silencing the noise. Last weekend . . . Just thinking of how Navin had treated him sent a spark of heat through his gut. On his knees, worshipping Navin’s cock with all the reverence and submissiveness it deserved—Navin deserved—had been delicious.

  Marquis had to get this last email out so that he could check in with Navin—he didn’t want to be late even though his budget was due. He’d rather be thinking about Navin than email, but he couldn’t let his mind wander—he had a real snarl to work out with his expenditures for the next year.

  He started going over the numbers again. By the time he got to the end of the fiscal year, he had it sorted. Budget and resource planning done. He’d even left himself a little room in his personal timetable in case he and Navin wanted to take a vacation together.

  Navin. Shit. He looked at his phone again. Seven already.

  He had to call Navin. Now.

  He grabbed his cell off the desk—didn’t want to use the office line for this. His hands shook as he scrolled and found Navin’s name in his contacts. He should rehearse his apology, but he didn’t know what to say. He’d promised to call if he was going to be late, and here he was already an hour and a half past the time he should’ve left the office.

  Marquis felt sick. It wasn’t just that he was late. It was that Navin had done what Marquis asked—set up reminders, trusted him to take them seriously—and he hadn’t. There was no reason for him to still be here, no reason he’d ignored the reminders, and worst of all, no reason for Navin to be with him anymore. Not if Marquis couldn’t change.

  The line clicked as Navin picked up and, before he could speak, Marquis blurted out, “I’m sorry. I’m late, I’m sorry.”

  Navin didn’t say anything for a long moment, then, “I’m disappointed.” He didn’t often say things like that, actually express his feelings. His tone wasn’t unkind or angry, just . . . exactly what he’d said: disappointed. “So, do you have a plan to fix this?”

  Mind racing, Marquis stared blankly at his computer. “I— Yes. I do.” Discipline, punishment, control. Just yesterday, he’d been fantasizing about Navin taking him in hand. Maybe that really would fix this. Fix him. Maybe Navin would be irritated enough to take him up on it. Maybe . . . maybe he could even offer up the cock cage as insurance that he’d obey. “May I come over tonight, still? I could . . .” He cleared his throat. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m home. I’ll be here the rest of the night. I have job applicants to review. I’m in over my head right now, Marq. I can’t chase you down.” Navin sighed heavily, and Marquis knew he was leaning back in his chair, rubbing the nape of his neck where it ached. “I’m going to go ahead and order dinner. Make sure you eat too, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” It came without thought, and after, Marquis couldn’t find any other words to say. But it felt right.

  “Be good. I’ll see you when you get here.” Navin hung up and left Marquis with his work.

  Marquis rolled his chair back from the desk. The left front wheel squeaked, and the noise echoed through the emptiness of the office. Like most evenings, he was here by himself. Usually it was a relief, a chance to get things right without the interference of others around him. Now, he’d never felt so alone.

  It didn’t take long to wrap up the files he was working on. Wanting to stay disappeared in the anticipation of seeing Navin, sharing something new with him. The time it took to save and back up the files, then shut everything down, seemed interminable. Marquis grabbed his coat and was out the door before seven thirty. It was amazing how things that felt so urgent could melt away into nothing the moment Marquis remembered what really mattered to him.

  Navin stared at his phone and tried to work out why he was so upset. He hadn’t felt this way on the phone with Marquis—it hadn’t hit him until he’d hung up. Now, his throat was tight and his eyes stung. Goddamn it, Marquis.

  He wasn’t really that disappointed by Marquis calling late, and that wasn’t why he was upset now either. He’d only said it because it seemed expected. On some level, he was happy Marquis had thought to call at all.

  No, what upset him was that he hadn’t been disappointed, not for a moment, even when he’d known Marquis had let him down again. He’d just accepted it. If he was disappointed in anyone, it was himself.

  No matter what a good game he’d talked on the weekend, no matter how much better he was feeling about their relationship, he was still settling for being Marquis’s afterthought. He couldn’t take that anymore. He was trapped in this because he was so comfortable being . . . absent, really.

  The sudden heat of his anger unnerved him. The tension in his jaw and shoulders was familiar but magnified somehow. He could handle cleaning up after Amrit, answering to Dev, holding Mummy’s purse, but he needed some damn presence in his personal life. He wanted to come first with someone, and he wanted that someone to be Marquis. If Marquis couldn’t meet him halfway, couldn’t show up at all, maybe it was time for Navin to take some of that self-respect he was learning to enjoy and break things off.

  Navin ate Chinese takeout from down the street while he sorted through applications and resumes, then took a shower and threw on a robe. He curled up in front of the television to watch a cricket match he’d recorded last week and hadn’t taken the time for. Truth was, he’d thought he’d have the time on the weekend. Instead, he’d spent that time with Marquis, on strengthening their relationship. He’d thought.

  Long before he’d expected to see Marquis, the doorbell rang.

  Navin pulled the door open, then stepped back so Marquis could come in. “Hey. Glad you made it.” He offered Marquis a kiss once he was inside.

  Marquis made a grateful sound. “I’m sorry I’m so late, Navin. I fucked up and I’m sorry. I . . . I brought something that might—” He broke off and pressed a cardboard box into Navin’s hands. A shipping box, once opened and then somewhat precariously resealed with tape.

  “For me? You shouldn’t have.” Navin had no idea what it could be, but Marquis was obviously taken with it if he’d brought it as a gift. The anger he’d felt earlier evaporated for the moment in the face of Marquis’s obvious contrition. Marquis was trying—he just wasn’t quite there. “Go sit down, and I’ll tell you whether or not I like it.”

  Taking a slow breath, Marquis nodded. As he exhaled, his tension seemed to go out with air in his lungs, and he smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  “You like calling me that?” Navin trailed him into the living room, opening the box and poking around in it. “‘Sir’? You’ve been doing it a lot lately.”


  In the silence that followed, Navin heard Marquis’s discomfort. He was never short for something to say. As Marquis moved to sit on the couch, he paused midway down, then completed the fall with his attention on the far wall. He wouldn’t look at Navin, and he swallowed hard before he spoke. “If you don’t like it, if you don’t want me to, I can stop.”

  “Tell me what you like about it,” Navin said, buying himself some time to think. He’d heard Marquis say it before, last weekend, but until right then, he hadn’t thought about whether or not he liked it, or what it might mean.

  Marquis looked at Navin then, eyes wide. “I— I like that it shows you the respect you deserve. It feels right to say it.”

  Navin nodded, thinking it over, as Marquis’s gaze slid away again. “I wasn’t expecting it, when you said it before. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” He did like it; he just wasn’t sure he deserved it. Didn’t want to get used to it, either, in case things didn’t work out—which was a line of thought he wasn’t ready to pursue.

  He finished pulling out the packing material and found a box within the box. He opened that and found . . . he had no idea what it was. It resembled a surrealist mousetrap. “What is this?”

  “A cage.” Marquis’s voice was rough. “It’s just supposed to be a toy. For fun. But there’s a lock. The key is in the box. You can keep it. The key. If you want me to wear the cage.”

  “A cage, for . . .” Navin turned it around in his hands, then he finally read the label. “Oh . . . oh.” It would keep Marquis’s attention, that was certain. “A key. A lock. So you couldn’t take it off without me. Is that safe?”

  “Other people do it.” Marquis’s gaze flicked back to Navin, and the words came out thick. He shifted on the couch, adjusting himself. Talking about it obviously made him nervous, but it was also turning him on. Both of those were a plus as far as Navin was concerned. “If you want it, I could try. I’d like to try.”

  “I guess you could get it off.” Apparently, from the illustration on the box, there was a small brass lock in the package, but there were also some little black plastic locks with serial numbers. “I wouldn’t want you to put the real lock on it without me there with the key. If you want to . . .”

  There was definitely a rush when he thought about being the one in control of the only thing that might compete with Marquis’s job—his dick. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Not only was it hot, it might get Marquis home on time if he had to answer to Navin to have the cage removed. No more being taken for granted. No more being left behind if he was the one with the keys.

  Marquis nodded, shifting again. “I think it’d be good.”

  “It’s not going to fit like that.” Navin gestured at Marquis’s groin. He opened the package while he gauged Marquis’s reaction—short breaths edged with a hint of a moan were the soundtrack to his obviously hardening cock. It was, admittedly, very hot. “You should take care of that first, then we’ll see if this fits.”

  Palming himself through his slacks, Marquis watched him as though he was the most important person in the world. All that attention was a heady thing.

  “How would you like me to take care of it . . . sir?”

  “Undo your pants and shirt. And then I want to watch you jerk off.” He sat in his recliner and swiveled so he was looking at Marquis instead of the TV. He dropped the last of the packaging, keeping the cage and the little brass lock in his hand. “After, we’ll try this on.”

  Marquis had to stand to get his pants undone, and he shoved them down around his ankles before he sat on the couch again. Eyes on Navin, he spread his muscular thighs, cupped his balls in one hand, and curled the other around his dick. “Like this, sir?”

  “Just like that. I really do wish I had pictures of you like this.” Navin could barely keep still. Marquis was delicious—he’d always been fit, no matter how much time he spent at a desk. Navin could never begrudge him the hours working out. “I want to watch you come and know it’s all for me.”

  Groaning, Marquis touched himself. His gaze dropped from Navin’s face to his lap, where his robe had parted. His breath caught, and his grip tightened. He arched, stroking faster.

  “You’re amazing.” Navin bit his lip to keep his composure. He wasn’t sure what turned him on more: watching Marquis jerk off, or knowing what he was looking at was completely his. He tapped the cage against his lower lip, and Marquis shuddered head to toe. “I can’t wait to put this thing on you. It’s really fucking hot,” he confessed. “Thinking about you trapped in this thing and knowing you can’t forget who holds the key.”

  “Oh God.” Marquis’s head fell back, and he arched again. “Navin.” His cock jerked in his hand as he spattered his chest and belly with come.

  “That’s perfect.” His head spun with his own arousal and the power Marquis seemed so eager for him to have. He felt like a different person, the way he’d felt last weekend. Like a man, not someone’s son or brother. The boss.

  He stood, ignoring the way his robe fell open and exposed his erection, and held up the cage.

  “I’m going to put this on you,” he said. Just said it instead of asking the way he usually would. “And then you’re going to choose how you’re going to get me off.”

  Marquis’s hand fell away from his dick, which twitched slightly as he tracked the cage in Navin’s hand. He shifted on the couch, slumped low with his legs still spread, breathing hard. “Yes, sir.”

  “You really want this? For me to own your cock?” He crouched in front of Marquis and palmed his cock gently as it continued to soften, leaving streaks of come on his hand. One last chance to touch before the cage went on.

  Marquis shook his head, short braids dancing against his jaw. “Me.” He swallowed hard and met Navin’s eyes. “I want you to own me.”

  Navin had to stop to breathe. “I want that too,” he said, without thinking. He couldn’t think. He leaned in and kissed Marquis hard. It seemed impossible that he wanted something so much when he hadn’t even known about it half an hour ago—when he’d been on the verge of throwing all this away. “As soon as I get this on you, you’re mine.”

  “Please.” Marquis reached for him, trying to bring him back for another kiss. “I want to kiss you. Please.”

  “Not yet.” Navin wanted it too, but he had to keep control of the situation.

  The cage was simple enough. Even with his hands unsteady, he could get it on Marquis and lock it up with the little brass lock. Such a small thing, and yet it gave him so much power.

  “Oh God,” Marquis breathed, shivering hard. “Oh fuck. That’s . . .” The way he shifted on the couch was more like writhing now, and the cage was suddenly fuller than it had been a moment before. He actually whimpered, a pained noise Navin had never heard from him.

  “Tell me if it hurts too much—” Navin crawled up to straddle Marquis’s hips “—and I’ll consider taking it off. If you ask nicely. I should make sure not to lose the key.” He held it up so Marquis could see it.

  “Here.” Marquis reached up to undo the gold chain he wore around his neck. It was a pretty thing, expensive by the look of it, probably a gift from a past lover. Navin didn’t care. Marquis had worn it so long it was unmistakably his, so much a part of him that Navin had forgotten it came off at all. “Have it,” Marquis said, letting it spiral into Navin’s palm.

  It was still warm from Marquis’s body, barely narrow enough to fit through the hole of the key. Still, Navin got it into place and put it around his neck. He was far slimmer than Marquis, and the key lay nearly flat against his chest, just below the notch between his collarbones.

  “I think it suits me.”

  Marquis’s shaking hands landed on Navin’s thighs and stroked. He gave a jerky nod, his dark eyes wide. His eyes held a blend of need and adoration that Navin had never seen before.

  Navin had so much to say, it all caught in his throat. His mind was roiling with how hot it was to own Marquis like
this, how much he was looking forward to seeing him arrive—eagerly—at home night after night. Instead of saying anything, he took Marquis’s face in his hands and kissed him fiercely until they were both breathless.

  “How are you going to get me off?” he whispered against Marquis’s slick lips.

  “Fuck my mouth.” Marquis wrapped his hand around Navin’s cock and stroked once. “Please, sir. I want to make you feel good.”

  Navin straightened, cupped Marquis’s chin in one hand, and used a little pressure to open Marquis’s mouth for him. Marquis yielded to him eagerly, moaning as he fed Navin’s dick between his lips before pulling his hand away. He slid his hands beneath Navin’s robe instead, gripping his ass. The gentle kneading felt like he was begging Navin to move. And Navin couldn’t have held still if he’d wanted to, not with Marquis’s mouth on him like this.

  He braced his hands on the back of the couch and fucked Marquis as deep as he dared. Being in charge didn’t mean he was in complete control—not of himself, anyway. As much as he meant to make this last, it didn’t take long for him to be shuddering on the verge of orgasm.

  His instinct was to worry about Marquis, but from the desperate, garbled moans Marquis made around every thrust, it seemed as though Navin’s carelessness was getting him off on some level, even if he couldn’t get hard again.

  Navin pushed into his mouth one more time and came with a shout. There was no being quiet when he felt this good, this alive with pleasure. Marquis’s fingers dug into the curve of his ass, and he swallowed everything Navin had to give.

  “That was amazing,” Navin murmured, sitting back on Marquis’s thighs so he could kiss his slick, full mouth. “You’re amazing.”

  Marquis shook his head, eyes wide and dark, still breathing hard. “Thank you, sir.”

  “You think you’ll remember better to call on time?” Navin traced Marquis’s lower lip with his thumb. He couldn’t believe something so beautiful was his.