Screw the Fags by Josephine Myles Page B

arranging them, before rolling the paper up dexterously.
    Alasdair stood and moved to the sink, rinsing out the dregs before adding his mug to the dishwasher. “Enjoy your cigarette,” he said on his way to the kitchen door.
    “Huh?” Cosmo sat with the lighter poised, but he hadn’t yet lit the thing.
    “Enjoy it.” No wonder Cosmo looked like his eyes were about to bug out of his head. Alasdair didn’t think he’d ever wished him that. “You really should make the most of it, because if you want that car, that’s the last one you’ll ever smoke.”
    Cosmo leapt up like his arse had been spring-loaded. “What? No. You wouldn’t. Oh, you fucking would as well, wouldn’t you? Alasdair. Boss , please, don’t make me give up the fags. You remember what happened last time I tried.”
    Cosmo’s hand clutched at Alasdair’s shirt, untucking it from his trousers, but Alasdair didn’t think it was because he was feeling horny. He took hold of Cosmo’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. “I think last time you weren’t sufficiently motivated. Plus I think that pretend cigarette whatsit was counterproductive. This time you’re going to do it cold turkey. The nicotine should be out of your system within a week, and in the meantime it’s just a case of finding something else to do with your hands and mouth.”
    “I’ll get fat.” Cosmo’s face was the picture of morose self-pity. “Everyone always says that happens when they give up. You wouldn’t want me all lardy, would you?”
    “You won’t put on any weight because you’re not going to be substituting with food either. We’ll find something better. I’ve got some ideas.” He really did as well, because helping Cosmo to stop smoking had been a pressing concern ever since they’d met. He just hadn’t wanted to push too hard. One thing he’d learned from living with the lad was if he came down too disciplinarian and strict, Cosmo had a way of digging his heels in. No, Alasdair had been forced to be more cunning. To play Cosmo at his own game.
    He liked to think it had made him a better Top.
    “You really mean it, don’t you?” Cosmo whined, but then his expression turned devilish. “But how are you going to know whether or not I’ve just smoked myself silly while you’ve been at work?”
    “Aside from the smell? Hmmm... good point. Right. You’ve got ten minutes. Pack up what you need for the day. You’re coming with me.”
    “You what?” Cosmo pushed himself back and fixed him with a killer glare.
    “You’re going to come into work with me every day until you’ve got this habit beat.”
    “You really don’t trust me, do you?”
    “It’s not that. I trust you not to lie to me, so I know you wouldn’t bullshit me if you did trip up. But I don’t want any falling off the wagon this time. I want you to get it right. I want that thing ”—he pointed at the now crumpled-looking rollie in Cosmo’s hand—“to be your last one ever.”
    “Ever!”
    Alasdair relented a little at the crestfallen expression on Cosmo’s face. “That’s not the only reason I want you with me. I can help support you. Keep your mind off it. And it would be nice to have you around the office. Spend some more time together. Give you more of an idea of what I do for a living.”
    “You just want a handy slave there to give you foot rubs and blowjobs on demand, don’t you?”
    “Not a bit of it.” Alasdair smirked. “Not on demand, anyway. I’m rather hoping they’ll be freely offered as homage to your Lord and Master.”
    Cosmo muttered something that sounded extremely uncomplimentary under his breath, but Alasdair chose to ignore it and instead put his boss-man hat on. His imaginary one, anyway. He didn’t actually wear a hat to work, as his collection of leather caps would hardly co-ordinate with the bespoke suits. “Come on. Chop, chop. You’ve only got eight minutes left to get your stuff together now. Better be quick.”
    Cosmo