A Strong Hand (2 page)

"We're going to make your old police standards sparkle like diamonds." He suddenly seemed to realize that Nicholas was still crouched by the pack. "Why are you here?" he demanded bluntly.

"Came to ask if you wanted your tea, yeah?" The husky voice was soft and yet still communicated Nick's insolence clearly.

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"Go boil it, or buy it, or whatever you do with it," Damian said, losing interest.

"What would you like in yours, Mr..." Nick asked Ashley, with a bare modicum of politeness.

"Winthrop," Ashley supplied amiably, although he had told Nicholas his name at least twice before. "
I
am in the mood for a bite of something sweet, perhaps an éclair or a napoleon.

And get me a latté, large, cinnamon decaf. With whipped cream. Low fat!"

Before he slouched from the room, Nick muttered, "You really think that's going to help?"

Damian chuckled under his breath at Nicholas's jibe, still standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at the handcuffs as if they were a recalcitrant model, refusing to hold a pose.

"Dreadful baggy trousers," Ashley muttered fastidiously, looking after Nicholas. If he had the dressing of the young man, he'd be wearing something tight and form-fitting, depending on what kind of arse he had. It looked as if it might be quite a pert one, but those loose jeans were so deceptive, as Ashley knew to his cost. Not only had Damian's last assistant Derek turned out to be a tad on the pudgy side, but he didn't even like to play.

"What was that?" Damian asked abstractedly.

"I asked your boy for something sweet," Ashley said, grinning inwardly at his choice of words. Sure enough, they caught Damian's attention and he smirked appreciatively. "He seemed a bit dismayed."

"That'll be because I don't usually run to cakes for tea. I expect he'll have gotten into the petty cash and gone down 12

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the street to the pastry shop," Damian replied in resignation.

"Well, come along. The young twit has either put the kettle on with no water or forgotten it altogether. I'd better check on it."

Ashley slid off the stool and followed Damian out of the studio into the kitchen area, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Something was brewing here, even if it wasn't the tea, and he was interested to see how it all played out.

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Nick raced up the stairs of the tube station two at a time, hoping he wouldn't be late for work yet again, but the train had been held up and he had to run for it. He pelted along the street, stopping in front of the warehouse building that housed Damian's studio to try to catch his breath. It would never do for his boss to know that he'd hurried so as not to be late. Bad for his image.

He pushed open the outer door and took the lift to the top floor instead of the stairs, hoping he would have caught his breath by the time it arrived.

"Late again?" Damian asked sardonically when he heard the loft door open. He didn't bother to turn around so he didn't see the guilty look that flitted over Nicholas's face.

The voice was surly as usual, with no trace of the regret that shadowed the large dark eyes. "Not very late."

"Well, it hardly matters; the model is even later," Damian fumed.

"What do you want me to do?" Nick asked, dumping his backpack in the doorway where anyone coming in would be sure to trip over it.

"See if Gabe needs anything after you move that damned bag," Damian said. "I'll be in the studio."

Nick kicked the pack out of the way and went to the makeup room, well fitted out with lights for the stylist to do his work. The man was short and bald, dressed in a frilly pink shirt, tight shiny jeans, and high-heeled, pointy-toed boots.

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He was sitting in the makeup chair reading a magazine and looked up at Nicholas with teasing eyes when he entered.

"Hey, beautiful. Come to cheer a lonely girl's vigil?" the makeup stylist lisped.

Nick shook his head. "Not bloody likely, Gabe. Need anything?"

"How about a flute lesson?"

Nick looked puzzled and then flushed when he caught the import of the comment. "Fuck off, wanker."

"I wouldn't have to, if you helped a girl out," Gabe called after him and snickered as Nick scuttled away quickly. He did so enjoy tweaking the pretty little straight boys.

After a few phone calls to the agency and another half hour's wait, Damian finally emerged from his office to dismiss the stylist. "Sorry, Gabe. You might as well go home. The model seems to be lost or something. He's a no-show."

"You know I get paid for the time just the same, right?"

Gabe said, beginning to return his brushes to his kit. "I canceled another shoot to do this one."

"Yeah, I know. I'll make it good with the client. We'll have you back again next time," Damian promised.

Gabe nodded and packed up his case. Damian signed his voucher, and Gabe said, "Thanks for understanding. Some people in the biz—"

"I know," Damian said. "Say no more; not your fault."

"Ta
ta
then, love," Gabe said, returning to his usual manner.

Damian watched the studio door swing shut quietly after the stylist left. He jumped when he heard Nicholas fling open 15

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the door to the bathroom, letting it smack against the wall.

"Fuck it all to hell! You don't
have
to break the fucking door, do you?"

"Sorry," Nick said, and he flushed to the roots of his hair.

His eyes dropped, and Damian suddenly noticed how very beautiful he looked when he was ashamed.

"Come into the studio," he commanded, striding into it without looking back to see whether Nicholas was obeying him.

Nick complied, following the photographer silently, hoping desperately that he would know how to do whatever Damian told him to do next.

A strong hand landed on the small of his back and propelled Nicholas forward to where Damian had set up a painted canvas backdrop and what looked to be a ballet bar.

"Just kneel there for a minute, will you? I need to check the lighting."

Sighing, Nick got to his knees and crossed his arms, scowling defiantly at the camera.

Ignoring the defiant expression, Damian called out, "Turn around. No, all the way.
Away
from me, you dolt."

Nick shuffled around on his knees until his back was square to the camera.

"Back toward me. To the left.
Your
left! Your
other
left!"

Damian sighed in mounting frustration as Nicholas first turned to his right, away from the main light, and then back into his original position. He strode quickly forward and took the boy by the shoulders, jerking him into the position he wanted.

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"There! That's where I want you. Stay right there and don't move."

He raced back behind the camera, cursing softly to himself. He wondered why he'd never noticed the sculpted cheekbones and elegant jawline of his young assistant.

Damian had noticed his eyes, of course; they were hard to miss with their long lashes, but somehow he'd become fixated on Nicholas's nose, directing all his irritation with his incompetent assistant at his nose. The slight asymmetry seemed to take up Damian's entire vision when he looked at Nicholas, but something about the way the lights were caressing the young man's face made his beauty spring to life for him for the first time.

"Nicholas," Damian said softly in a moment of recognition.

How could he have been so blind?

"Yeah?" Nick responded, not daring to move from his position.

"The model bailed. And I have this idea, a concept; it's gnawing at me. I want to take the shot. I
need
to," Damian started to explain.

Nick swung around to face him and nodded. Damian was startled. It looked as if Nicholas understood just what he was saying about his need to create the image in his head and was agreeing with him! What did he study at university again? Whatever. Damian couldn't remember ever asking him.

"I need a model to pull this off. Can I use you?"

"What do I need to do?" Nick asked, his voice interested and bright for the first time in Damian's memory.

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"I need to work out the pose, and it'll be cheaper to use you than a model. Just with some of these things of Ashley's,"

Damian said, waving a careless hand at a table holding various whips and strappy-looking things.

"All—all right," Nick said faintly, looking at the table full of implements with nervous fascination.

"Right. Get up and out of your kit, then," Damian ordered.

"I need your bare skin."

He grinned impishly, expecting to have to convince the young man when he refused, but was surprised as without hesitation, Nicholas started stripping right there in the set, tossing his T-shirt off to the side. He stood up to toe his sneakers off and unzipped his pants, only to realize that Damian was staring at him. His hands hesitated. "Am I doing it wrong?"

Damian laughed. "There's no wrong way to get undressed.

Especially if.... "He trailed off, thinking it might not be wise to bandy racy comments with his assistant. On the other hand, the way things were going, Nicholas wouldn't be around that long anyway. "Especially with a tight little ass like yours," he resumed, figuring it didn't make much difference if Nicholas ran screaming into the night. No model, no shot, at least for today. "Green socks?"

"Oh. I thought maybe I shouldn't be throwing my clothes on the floor," Nick muttered, ignoring the comment on his brightly colored socks.

"Throw them wherever you like, other than in the set,"

Damian said generously, excited by the prospect of a compliant model to play with for a couple of hours. This way 18

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he could get his idea worked out before the expensive model arrived.

Nick continued to strip, feeling a bit flustered, but Damian was no longer looking at him, so he made short work of it. He stood there naked, waiting for the next instruction.

Damian came over and took him by the arm, leading him to a lump under the canvas. "Kneel on that; I put some packing foam under there. It'll be easier on your knees."

"Away from the camera?" Nick asked.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Yes, away from the camera. Right there." He pointed insultingly.

Nick dropped to his knees, grateful for the soft cushioning under the backdrop. His knees were bony, and the concrete floor had hurt when he knelt there earlier.

Damian came back to him making a clanking noise, and Nick darted an anxious glance at the photographer. He was carrying black leather restraints of some kind, linked together by a length of silver chain.

"Give me your hands," Damian ordered.

Silently, Nick held out his wrists.

The leather cuffs were long, almost like a gauntlet, running nearly to Nick's elbows. Damian fastened the various buckles on the right arm, passing the chain over the bar in front of Nick. It was quite high, almost to Damian's shoulders, and Nick had to raise his arms for Damian to attach the second restraint.

After Damian had him securely bound to the bar, he stroked the smooth, honey-toned skin of Nicholas's bare shoulder. "Okay?"

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"Yeah."

Damian thought Nicholas's voice had sounded a bit breathless, but he was so excited to see his artistic vision come to life that he paid it no heed, bounding back behind the camera to check angles and lighting.

He suppressed a gasp, swallowing it when he saw the lithe form, lean muscles taut in the slender shoulders, buttocks round and tempting, and the glossy dark curls shining under the sole light source. He really was blind, Damian marveled.

It was a mercy that the insipid blond model actually hired for the shoot hadn't turned up. Nicholas was perfect for this.

Damian enjoyed the sight of the muscles in Nicholas's thighs twitching slightly as he fought to remain still.

Damian checked his focus and snapped off a couple of quick shots. "You doing okay?" he called out.

"Yeah, fine," Nick said, turning to look back over his shoulder just as Damian snapped the shot.

"Now don't do that again if you don't want a recognizable shot of you naked in handcuffs. Stay ... fucking ... still,"

Damian snarled.

Nick turned away quickly. His heart was beating so hard and loud; he was surprised that Damian couldn't hear it. The thought of Damian owning a shot of him, naked and restrained to a bar, made his cock twitch, and he wasn't even gay! Was he? No, Nick thought resolutely, he wasn't and he wasn't going to be converted. He was just helping his employer. Nothing more.

His heart slowed when nothing more happened and the lights didn't flash again. It was quiet so long, he wanted to 20

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turn around again and see what Damian was up to, and he was just about to when he felt something chilly at his ankle.

"Wh—what's that?" Nick asked nervously, flinching as he felt cold metal close around his ankle.

Without answering him, Damian pushed his legs apart with his foot. Nick suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed, his cock swelling but not hard yet, his balls dangling where he was sure Damian could see them. Hell, Damian could probably see everything that was to be seen about his arse!

Nick jumped when Damian spread his legs even further and a cold cuff was clamped about his other ankle. When the strong hands released him, Nick tried to move his legs together but found he couldn't.

"No need to worry; it's just a spreader," Damian said in a very pleased tone of voice. "Excellent. You were born to wear one. You look great in it."

Faint sounds told Nick that Damian had retreated behind the camera once more. It made him feel a tiny bit safer, but not safe enough. Trussed the way he was, he could barely move. Nick had never been able to please Damian before and hearing approval in his employer's voice was ... heady. On the other hand, he had also never had his legs held apart and trapped before, and it was disturbing. He was just trying to calculate whether he could manage to get to his feet with the spreaders on when the lights flashed, practically blinding him because he wasn't ready.