Chapter 6
“I’m infested!” Tom sounded outraged. For a short moment Mischa couldn’t help wondering if he had anything to do with it. But he was clean, he knew that, and besides, they had been careful. He forced himself to pay attention to Tom’s rant on the other end of the line.
“My fucking kitchen is full of nasty little bugs, and it’s about the grossest thing I’ve ever experienced.” Mischa could actually hear Tom shudder. “And the landlord wants to do the extermination thing right away, which I really, really appreciate. But it means that I haven’t got anywhere to stay for ten days, because all of my friends are either out of town or having their girlfriend and her puppy moving in. And
that
means that I have to go home to my sister, who hates me almost as much as I hate her, and I have a big assignment due in two weeks and I’m so fucked.” The wind was going out of Tom now, and he sighed resignedly.
“Well, it’s not as if I don’t have anywhere to go. Even if I seriously considered crashing on the floor in a corner of the faculty library. Nobody ever goes into the Marxism/Formalism section anyway; I think I could set up camp there for weeks without getting noticed.”
“You can move in with me.” Mischa waited for the “oh, fuck, did I just say that” feeling, but it never came. Huh.
“Oh.” Tom sounded astounded. “Fuck, Mischa, I swear I wasn’t trying to set you up for that. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be just fine.”
“I know you didn’t, and I mean it. Hell, it’s only for ten days. You can work here, and it’ll be far better than staying with somebody you don’t like.”
“I can’t do that. I don’t want to fuck up what we have.” Tom sounded very firm.
Mischa couldn’t help being just a little pleased with Tom’s reason for being stubborn. However, Mischa was the king of stubborn.
“Why would it fuck it up? I’ll have work to do, just the same as you, and we can have a scene now and then if you want. If not, that’s fine, too.”
“But I can’t let you do that for me!” Mischa found Tom’s outrage highly entertaining. He got up and started walking around in his office, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“And exactly why is that?” Mischa worked hard to keep the amusement from his voice.
Tom sputtered. “Because... because that would be taking advantage of you.”
Mischa was stunned. Then, with a great effort, he pulled himself together. “Tom. I’m an investment manager. I’m a very good investment manager, in fact. I handle extremely large sums of money for very rich people who listen to my advice. And I’m a Dom. Nobody takes advantage of me.”
Tom still wasn’t convinced. “But... but...”
“Nobody.”
Mischa could hear Tom think. Really, he could. “Well, I guess not.” The words came out grudgingly.
“Good. Now that we’ve established that, are you going to stay with me?”
“I guess so.”
Mischa snorted. Okay, perhaps that wasn’t a nice reaction, but Tom sounded so cute when he was pouting.
“Don’t laugh!”
“Then don’t sound like a ten-year old.” That was easy, wasn’t it? “When do you want to be picked up?”
They made their arrangements, and Mischa hung up. He was feeling unusually smug. Who said you couldn’t have everything you wanted? You just had to work a little for it.
***
This was a strange situation. Not waiting for Mischa to come pick him up, but waiting with his messenger bag, a huge sports bag, and his computer. It felt like moving in. Perhaps because that was what it was.
Tom felt a thrill at the thought and tried to reason with himself. This was only for ten days, and it might end up being really awkward. He actually didn’t worry that they wouldn’t have anything to talk about; he knew they would. But how would they work all the practicalities? Would he have to be naked? Because that would just be too weird, doing research and grading papers with no clothes on. And would they be sleeping together, or was that only for their special weekends? He knew Mischa had guest rooms. Perhaps the Dom expected Tom to stay in one?
“I can’t believe you haven’t been run over by something yet with the level of attention you pay to your surroundings.” Tom started and then couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. Mischa. And the man was here for Tom. Tom leaned in and kissed him, not caring who saw them.
Mischa kissed him right back and hugged him. “Ready to go?” He bent down and got one of Tom’s bags.
“I am.” Tom fought hard to make the silly smile go away. He was just suddenly in a very, very good mood. Mischa didn’t seem to mind, though, putting Tom’s bag in the car and getting in.
“So, did you manage to rescue your clothes from the invasion?”
Tom shuddered. “I did. Fuck, it was so gross. It turns out that our next-door neighbor has a very relaxed attitude toward cleaning. Especially in the kitchen. The landlord described it in far too much detail. But at least I should consider myself lucky that he did something about it this quickly. And thanks again for letting me stay.”
“It’s not a problem -- unless you keep saying thank you. But then I guess I’ll just have to teach you other ways to show your gratitude.” Mischa leered exaggeratedly.
Tom laughed out loud. “Well, I think I can handle that.” He so could. “Did you have a good week?”
“Yeah, not too bad. I lost about ten million dollars, but considering the market, that’s actually quite good.” Mischa didn’t seem worried at all.
“You lost ten million? And that’s a good week?” There was no way Tom could keep up his “I know all about this” attitude.
“With the market being like it is, yes.” Mischa shrugged. “I work with unreal amounts of money in my job. Sometimes it’s difficult to connect the numbers with real money. I mean, money is pretty much an illusion a lot of the time, isn’t it? You work, you get the money transferred to your bank account, and you spend it with a plastic card -- sometimes on things like counseling where you can’t even see any physical results. It’s a really long way from Scrooge McDuck’s mountains of gold, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Except that the illusion gets very real when you don’t have any money.”
Mischa made a grimace. “You’re right about that; student loans are just not the way to live a life in luxury.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know -- I don’t have any.”
Mischa looked over at him. “You don’t? But you’re on your own.” They had talked about Tom’s parents dying when he was nineteen.
“I just don’t want them. With my subject, I probably won’t get a well-paid job when I graduate, and the thought of paying off loans for the next twenty-five years is just too depressing. I’d rather be totally broke now. The last six months sucked, though; I want to concentrate on my thesis next semester, so I’ve been working and saving up the money so I don’t have to work then. I’m pretty much there now; I won’t be rich, but I have enough to get by until I finish. And I only have the paper I’m working on this week to do before I can start working full time on the thesis. I’ve sort of started working on it already, but I can’t wait to have more time for my actual work.”
“That’s pretty impressive.”
Tom felt a little sheepish. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make it sound that way. There wasn’t anything heroic about going back to my sister’s to work at the cookie factory for an entire year. I guess I’m just stubborn.”
“You think so?”
Tom slapped Mischa’s arm. Hard.
“Hey! I’m the one doing the slapping here.” And here Tom thought that he was getting better at not blushing all the time. “Anyway, I’m happy to be able to save you from your sister. You don’t exactly sound fond of her.”
“She’s an evil bitch from hell. The most annoying thing about her is that she wraps it all up in fake concern. You know, like, ‘If only you’d reconsider your lifestyle, you’d be in far less risk of getting a disease.’ Or my favorite: ‘If you’d go out with women, you’d have a chance at a lasting relationship.’”
“Ouch.” Mischa winced. “Well, I guess we’d better think seriously before accepting any Thanksgiving invitations from her.”
Tom blinked. Mischa hadn’t said we. He just hadn’t. Tom decided that he was hearing with his dick. Which was a first, granted. On the other hand, you could think with it, so why not?
He glanced at Mischa, and he could have sworn that the man’s cheeks were just a little on the red side. But Doms didn’t blush. Rule number one in their book. Or something.
They were interrupted in their mutual attempt at pretending nothing important had been said by arriving at Mischa’s house.
Mischa had taken Tom’s bag again and let him enter first. Just inside the door, Tom stopped. He had no idea what the protocol would be now. Mischa made it a lot easier by simply taking Tom’s bag into the master bedroom.
“You can use the shelves just inside the closet -- there should be plenty of space for your things.” There was. Since the closet was bigger than Tom’s entire bedroom.
Mischa went out and showed him one of the guestrooms. “There’s a desk in here for you, or you can just use the dining room. That’s up to you.”
Tom nodded. Mischa seemed to hesitate. Then he said, very casually, “I don’t think you’ve seen my office yet? It’s in here.” He opened the door.
So this was the mysterious sanctuary where millions were lost. And probably earned, too, since Mischa still had plenty of clients. The decor was quite different from the light colors of the rest of the house. The colors in here were darker, and the whole room had a masculine and cozy feel to it.
“Oh, this is nice.” Tom turned toward a desk to his right. “So this is where you lose... Oh, holy fucking mother of Christ.” He froze, looking at the enormous painting on the wall. He took a step closer and then stopped again. It couldn’t be.
“Is that...” He gestured helplessly toward the painting.
“It is. I’m really fond of it.”
“Wow.” Tom had no idea what to say. “I guess you really are good at what you do if you have one of her paintings on your wall.”
“Well, I bought it right after she came to New York. A friend of a friend shared a studio with her and told me about this picture. Even though I know nothing about art, I had to have it.”
Tom knew that he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself. “I get that. It’s so fucking good. It must be quite an attraction when you have visitors.”
Mischa shrugged. “Not really. It’s in my office; there’s no need for my friends to go in here, and boys are not allowed.” Then Mischa looked like he could use an effective tool for removing feet from mouths.
Tom cocked his head. “Is that a weird way of telling me that I have to get out of here?”
“No.” Mischa looked him straight in the eyes.
Huh. “So, is this like the ‘one boy, one scene’ rule?”
“Yes.” Maybe Doms didn’t blush, but they did look sheepish.
“Aha.” Tom crossed his arms, pondering Mischa’s words. “Okay.” He turned around again and studied the painting.
***
Sometimes Tom drove Mischa crazy. Now was one of those times.
The boy was so fucking different from everything Mischa was used to. His subs were obedient or whiny or difficult, but they never were anything but subs. Tom was more, and Mischa had no idea how to handle that. The worst part was that Mischa didn’t even know which part of Tom he liked the best: the man or the oh-so-sexy sub. Well, maybe that was the best part. Still, it drove him crazy.
Like now, when Tom didn’t say anything after Mischa had fucked up. “No boys allowed in here.” Smooth, really smooth.
“Mischa?”
He had a clear feeling that he had missed something.
“Sorry?” Mischa didn’t blush. He didn’t.
Tom looked just a little amused. “I asked you if you wanted to have lunch? We could eat and then work until dinner?”
“Sure, sounds good. I got some roast beef for sandwiches. It looked really good. Did you decide where you would like to work?” Now he was babbling on top of everything else.
Tom’s mouth twitched, but he managed to stay serious. “I think I’ll take the dining room if you don’t mind?”
“No, that’s fine. Let’s go eat.” Anything to keep him from blabbering anymore. Christ.
***
It hadn’t been as strange working here as Tom had imagined. The dining room was nice, well-lit and really quiet, and he was so engrossed in his paper that he didn’t even notice that it was getting late. Tom only looked up when he heard Mischa cough politely. He had a vague feeling that it wasn’t the first time.
Mischa smiled at him and sat down in one of the chairs around the table. “You’re really caught up. What are you doing?”
He felt a little sheepish at being caught like this. “Oh, the same as I always do, basically. Sex.”
Mischa blinked. “Excuse me?”
Tom made a feeble attempt at correcting himself. “That’s what my research is about.” Because he didn’t always think about sex. He was sure that there were times that he didn’t. Almost sure.
Mischa looked amazed. “You can do an entire master’s degree in sex?”
“Well, as long as you give it an academic title, you can do anything. My subject is sexuality in modern painting. This paper is about female artists’ representation of their male subjects.”
Mischa looked tickled. “When I interviewed you before our first meeting, you said that you were rather inexperienced when it came to sex.”
“I was!” Tom nervously fiddled with a book. “I thought you meant hands-on experience.”
Mischa laughed out loud.
“You know what I mean!” Nobody could tease him like Mischa.
“I do. So, you have studied sex for a long time?”
“Hey, just because I didn’t meet anybody who really turned me on, I could at least still read about it. I’m a curious person!”
“You are.” Mischa looked so sweet when the man bent forward and kissed Tom. The kiss was so tender that Tom lost himself completely in it. He was about to suggest they take it to the bedroom when his stomach growled, loudly. Mischa laughed and pulled back.
“I think we have to feed you before we do anything else. Come on, dinner should be ready.”
Tom got up, feeling guilty. “You don’t have to serve me like that, you know. If I’m engrossed in something, just call me and I’ll come help.”
“I did.” Mischa put his arm around Tom’s shoulder. “You were totally oblivious to anything but your computer. It was really cute.”