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1 - Getting Kane
Brian’s POV
Two months have elapsed since Justin chose Ethan
Rating: NC 17
******************
The
beep of the alarm approaches from somewhere far away.
Beep beep.
Beep beep.
BEEP BEEP.
Fuck, my fucking head is pounding.
Could have been that seventh, no wait that eighth, glass of Jim last night at Babylon. Thought I had
better tolerance than this. That twink kept buying me drinks, begging me to
fuck him. Wasn’t going to say no. He was cute. Young, blond hair, blue
eyes…reminded me of…
Sliding the nozzle all the way to the left I stand aside the stream of water in
the shower and wait for it to get steaming hot. Letting it rush around me and
flush my skin and deafen me to the outside world, I reach up to grab my
shampoo. I touch Justin’s bottle, haven’t thrown it away. Don’t know why. Not
like I’m going to use it, not like it needs to be here.
Some days he isn’t the first thing I think about. Some days…like today…he is.
It was that kid from last night. He had a great ass, and that blond
hair…reminded me a lot of Justin. He couldn’t have been more than 18 or 19.
Great smile, filled with hope and innocence…just like Justin’s when I first met
him. Before…life happened to him.
I step out of the shower shaking my hair rid of excess water and my head rid of
excess thoughts of Justin. Okay, focus Brian. What the fuck am I going to wear
today? I have that meeting with Kane Electric, some London-based company. The
president is flying over to meet us. Vance wants me to put on a good show; the
guy is an old college buddy of his...and has deep pockets apparently. Think
I’ll go with my new dark gray Armani…dog and pony show it is.
Cynthia struts into my office in her usual skirt-too-short-for-the-office suit
with my calendar in one hand and coffee in the other. God I love her, but I’d
never tell her. It might go to her head and then I’d have to get my own non-fat
latte in the morning.
“You have a design concept meeting for the ‘Eat The Meat’ campaign at 10 and
then you’ll be tied up for an hour or so with Gardner’s little friend.”
“That little friend could turn into a very lucrative account if I play him
right.”
“Oh, I bet you’ll play him right,” she chuckles under breath.
“A college friend of Vance’s? He’ll be straight as an arrow. How fucking
boring. But as long as he likes my ideas we’ll be fine.”
“Whatever you say Mr. Kinney.” Cynthia’s taken to mocking me since I became
partner by ceasing to use my first name. Little does she know it’s fine with me.
I AM a partner after all.
Through the hour of the design meeting, all I can think about is the amazing
blow job I was getting when I overheard that guy in the backroom at Babylon say "eat
the meat." I rarely remember a blow job, but that was a good one. True
genius is mostly comprised of happy accidents…and they generally occur at the
strangest times.
My mind is finally pulled away from the hard-on-inducing memory when our new
graphic designer gets up to pitch his concept. Cute young kid, reminds me of
Justin. Although, I think this one’s straight. Went to art school. He has a big
mouth and a great eye. I was drawn to him the second he sat down in the
interview room. We’d gone through dozens of candidates and no one thrilled me.
Then Kurt walked in and he had confidence and energy and great ideas. So much
like Justin. Didn’t hurt he had a great ass too. Not getting to see Justin
anymore, I wanted Kurt around. I couldn’t even admit to myself that was the
reason, but I pushed Vance hard to hire him. Luckily, he’s turned out to be a
genius.
He starts going over his mock-ups when Cynthia sticks her head in the door to
the conference room and glares at me. I check my watch and realize I had to be
in Gardner’s office to
meet Kane ten minutes ago. My mind is wandering more than it should these days.
Fucking kid.
Jumping up I give a half smile and knowing nod to Kurt and walk out. Buttoning
my jacket and handing the stack of shit I still have to tear apart today to
Cynthia, I round the corner and fling the door to Gardner’s office open.
“Ah, Brian, so good of you to join us.” Vance’s tone is slightly annoyed, but
mostly relieved. I extend a hand to the stranger sitting across from his desk.
“Mr. Kane, pleasure to meet you. How was your trip?” Our eyes lock and my
handshake isn’t as firm as it usually is. Something radiating from his eyes
startles me…throws me off my game. Couldn't be...
“Mr.
Kinney, I’ve heard a lot about you. My trip was fine, thank you.” He sits back
down, but his brooding eyes never leave mine. I don’t know, maybe…
I sit in the empty chair next to him and cross my legs, casually folding my
hands in my lap. I’m still staring at the Kane character. He’s still staring at
me. Finally, Vance breaks our locked gaze with a very obvious clearing of his
throat.
“So Mr. Kinney, Vance says you have a sure-fire plan for taking Kane Lighting
from the number three distributor to number one?” He cocks his eyebrow at me
and waits. I smile slightly and then launch into the myriad of ideas and
concepts I have for marketing his lamp designs and creating a brand image that
will permeate the market. Needless to say, he’s more than impressed by the time
I’ve finished.
Vance gives me a barely noticeable nod of approval as I wrap up my pitch. Kane
sat in silence, or was it in awe, the entire time I was speaking. Nodded his head
a few times, and checked me out fairly obviously. Likes what he hears, and
sees, but who doesn’t?
Standing up and straightening my suit I extend my hand to Kane again, “Ewan,
it’s been a pleasure. I hope you’ll carefully consider everything I’ve proposed
and realize that Vanguard is the only agency that is going to put you where you
need to be. Have a safe trip home. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” My use of
his first name and utterly obvious cockiness are not lost on him. I see Kane’s
lips resisting the urge to curl up into a smile. I turn to say goodbye to Gardner when Kane
stands up suddenly beside me.
“Aren’t you going to lunch with us Brian?”
“Well, I’ve given you my two cents, you can take it or leave it at this point.
I think you know what the right decision is. I was going to let you catch up
with your old pal Vance.”
Straightening his jacket and coughing a little he replies, “I actually have a
few concepts I’d like to bounce off you? Perhaps we could go to lunch. I’m sure
Vance has work to do.” He just made it terribly obvious that he wants to bounce
something off of me, and somehow I don’t think it’s advertising ideas. Fuck me,
I’ve never seen Vance look so alarmed. I think his head might actually explode.
My gay-sense tells me this one has sucked a few dicks. Curving my lips into a
wicked half-grin I reply, “Well, if it’s all right with Vance, it’s all right
with me. I’d be happy to clear my calendar for the afternoon.” My eyes meet
Kane’s and lock him in a deep stare for a little longer than is comfortable for
either of us. He breaks it first and leans over to shake Gardner’s hand. Turning
back to me, I motion toward the door and he begins to exit. Vance asks to have
a word with me. Saw this coming. They all hate finding out what the rest of
their fraternity brothers were REALLY doing in their bunk beds at night.
I point Kane toward my office and then step back into Vance’s. Shutting the
door behind me I look at him with a knowing shit-eating grin on my face.
“What the fuck are you doing Kinney?”
“I think I’m about to win you a huge account Vance, settle down.” The words
pour from my mouth calmly as I watch the fire in his eyes grow fierce. He was
looking forward to catching up with an old college friend and instead he’s
getting a rather unexpected surprise.
“Settle down?”
”Yes, it’s not a big deal. As I always suspected straight people are becoming
the minority. Get used to it.” With a lift of my right eyebrow and a shrug I
walk out, leaving Vance with his jaw on the floor. I didn't say anything he
didn't already know, but I can tell the verbal confirmation hit him like a
sucker punch.
*************************************************************************************
At the best French restaurant in town I order a bottle of vintage Romanee-Conti
to impress him. Well traveled, very intelligent, suavely dressed and fucking
hot…I might have to actually work a little for this one. Kane is no Friday
night trick in the back room at Babylon. Boys like this don’t grow in Pittsburgh.
We casually chat about how he got into the lighting industry, why he’s
passionate about designing lamps and how hard traveling 8 months out of the
year is on him. Design trips to Italy, factory checks in Beijing, consultations
with clients in San Francisco, New York, London and Paris. Yes, sounds
just awful.
He asks me about working for Vance, how I came to be so good at what I do and
what my life outside of work is like. When the conversation turns personal his
eyes deepen and his gaze locks on me more intently. We both know what game is
being played here…but we’re both eager to see the other’s hand.
Equally guarded we run circles around the subject of being gay. While we both
obviously are, an admittance on either part would be like saying “I want to fuck
you” and neither of us wants to break first.
The heat starts to build in our conversation. We’re talking about wine and
music now. Much more queer-friendly topics. And still…neither of us had
admitted to anything. I realize Vance could have easily told Kane I was gay,
but considering Vance didn’t know Kane was until a few hours ago I doubt that
topic of conversation came up.
Finally he leans in, my breath almost catches in my chest at the motion. Why do
I want this guy? Well besides the fact he’s hot as hell. Tall, sleek, dark
hair, dark eyes. Not typically my type, but undeniably gorgeous. Maybe it’s the
question in the back of my mind. Something tells me he isn’t a sure bet. And I
do love the chase.
“Well…Brian…this has been brilliant. I think you made my decision regarding
which agency to go with an easy one.”
Back
up.
What just happened?
His tone is suddenly formal. He’s all business. He’s ready to leave. What the
fuck just happened here?
“Ah, of course. Well I’m glad I could help. Are you sure there isn’t anything
else I, we, can do for you before you leave tomorrow?”
“Oh, no I certainly don’t think so. Lunch has been wonderful. Thank you.” I
settle the check and Ewan and I walk out the front doors toward the valet
stand. What the fuck is his deal? He isn’t making eye contact with me. Isn’t
checking me out anymore, sizing me up. I was hoping for an afternoon fuck in
the back of his limo. But, it would appear that a fuck is suddenly the last
thing on his mind. Aloof bastard.
His limo pulls around to take him back to the hotel. The chauffer opens the
door and I shake Kane’s hand. “Well, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to
hearing from you.” He nods, almost imperceptibly and turns away. I open my
mouth to speak, but no words come to me.
Am I really going to let him walk away? This has become a game, and I never
lose…at anything. I finally find words, “There are actually some more ideas I’d
like to run by you. Are you free tonight?” He stands completely still, with one
foot in the open door, for a long minute. When he turns around his face is
somber, but there’s a sparkle creeping up behind his eyes. He’s trying to hide
it, but I can still see it’s there. Like a predator with their prey, I can
smell that he wants me. Perhaps I’m a temptation he doesn’t want to give in to?
What is it Kane, a boyfriend? Morals?
I don’t give him time to talk himself out of saying yes, “I’ll pick you up at
your hotel at 8.” I touch his shoulder lightly as he once again begins his
descent into the limo. All I receive is a slight nod. Once the door is shut I
back away and watch the long, sleek, black vehicle pull away from the curb. The
back of that limo would’ve been fun, but if he needs a little more
finessing…fine.
All afternoon I bust my ass the finish up the 150 projects I have going (it’s
just so great being partner) to make sure I can get out of the office in plenty
of time to clean up and collect Kane by 8pm.
***********************************************************************************
Dragging down the street in the Jeep I look down at the hotel address. I have
to laugh to myself because it’s just off Liberty. If Vance knew
shit about Pittsburgh he would have
known his old college chum was gay before he ever even arrived.
I walk down the bare hallway of the 11th floor noting the absolutely hideous
hotel-typical décor. I knock on his door twice before he answers. Bet he loves
keeping me waiting out here in the hall. Staring at the door, wondering what
will happen on the other side.
“Brian.” His smile is slightly warm, but more half-assed than anything. He
stands in the doorway, fully dressed in a navy suit, pressed white shirt and
deep red tie. I furrow my eyebrows a bit, noting the differences in our
appearance, “Did you want to go to dinner?” I wasn’t aware that was part of the
plan, but based on his attire and the expectant glare in his eyes that seemed a
logical conclusion to come to.
He nods a little, as if trying to decipher whether or not he is hungry, “Yes,
why don’t we have dinner.” I’m trying to catch his eye, trying to read him…but
he’s making it fucking difficult as hell. My head is filled with questions
about this stranger and I can’t figure out why I even give a fuck. I can have
anybody. But, maybe I can’t have him…maybe that’s just it.
Out in my Jeep we tear down Liberty and I watch as Kane’s eyes grow wide while
soaking in the scenery. “Do you frequent this part of town?” He asks after a
long while, as if he doesn’t know the answer. His British lilt makes my dick
twitch.
“As often as I can,” I say with a smirk and throw a glance at him out of the
corner of my eye. He smiles then, genuinely, and I feel myself pull ahead in
our little game. I’m going to win, there was never a doubt. Does he know we’re
playing? He must.
“I was thinking we’d hit this little Italian place right around the corner from
my loft, I just need to stop home first and grab something.” My voice is steady
and seemingly sincere. He just nods as my brain reels from plotting an evening
that in no way involves a little Italian place around the corner from my
loft…because there isn’t one.
I had to practically force him to come upstairs with me. What the fuck is with
this guy? He’s so indifferent, so immune to my standard fare of
charm-their-pants-off come-ons. I’m not working much harder for this one. He
better come around soon.
The elevator shakes and shifts under us. His eyes wander all over the rusting
metal and wooden grates and ancient pulley system. I can tell he’s worried
about his own safety. If he only knew how hard I’ve rocked this old lift…a
simple ride isn’t going to do it any harm.
I slide the door open to the loft, the cool steel effortlessly sliding out of
the way to reveal my, admittedly impressive, living space. It’s so stark and
barren without Justin’s clutter everywhere. I tell myself I like it this way. I
tell myself it is great to be living alone again. I tell myself that a clean,
empty loft is better than some live-in twink any day. I tell myself a lot of
things these days.
I wait for him to say any of the standard fare that pours from the mouths of
guests upon their first view of my loft. “Beautiful place.” “I love your loft.”
“Wow, this is amazing.” “Very impressive.” I get none of them. Not a single
wide-eyed look, no comments about it at all. He barely even looks around. This
is not going the way I planned. Fuck this.
I
flick on the light in the kitchen. What the fuck am I going to say I needed to
come here to collect? Where am I going to find a little Italian restaurant near
my place? No, I’m going to get him…win him…make him want me. I can wrangle a
well-dressed-English-bred-lamp-designer. I’m Brian fucking Kinney. And who the
fuck is he?
“Can I use your loo?” The accent goes straight to my dick again. I suck my lips
into my mouth and nod. “Through the bedroom.” I say it with heavy sex in my
voice, hoping that a stroll through the magic room will do the trick. He
casually, almost cautiously walks up the three steps and throws a glance back
at me. I stand still and watch him disappear behind the frosted glass panels.
After a few seconds I don’t hear his footsteps or the bathroom door shut.
Confused, I stride out of the kitchen and toward my bedroom. I see him standing
next to my bed, the dark outline of him in the light coming in through my porthole-style
window. Finally…things are getting interesting.
I stop on the second step as he turns to me, “Can I turn these on?” He motions
to the tube lights above my bed. I smile to myself. I’ll turn them on, and you.
I walk to the side of the bed where the switch is located and hit it. The cool
blue lights fill the room with the ethereal glow they were intended to produce.
I’m so used to the odd lighting it no longer occurs to me anymore that people
might find it strange, interesting, sexy. It certainly is mood lighting.
His face lights up, in more ways than one, as he studies the custom lighting. I
designed it myself; it was an idea that struck me when I was high, dancing at Babylon. I saw this
beautiful guy on the dance floor, radiating under a blue light from above.
Watched the way it played on his skin, the way it made him glow. I took him
home that night; it was just after I’d moved in to the loft. When I got him
into bed I wanted to reproduce the beauty I saw on the dance floor, but the
blue light was gone. He looked different to me in the dim tungsten light of the
loft. I decided that I’d have to have my own blue light, so I could see that
glow every time I fucked someone.
I suddenly am transported from that memory to the one of the first time I ever
had Justin in this bed…the first night we met. I remember the way the lights
poured over his pale skin. The way they lit up his blue eyes from within,
making them impossibly more beautiful. These blue lights, though they existed
long before he came along, were made for Justin. No one before or since has
looked as beautiful under their cast.
I shake my head to dislodge the memory. They creep up on me all too often and I
fight with myself to lose them somewhere deep inside of me, where every other
painful memory is laid to rest. There are so many I never conjure up because
they’re buried so deep. Why can’t I move Justin’s that far below the surface?
Why do they keep rising to the top?
Ewan glides his hand along the bottom tube and nods. He clearly likes what he
sees. He turns slightly toward where I’m standing, “Who designed this?”
“I did.” My reply is smooth and quick. His eyebrows raise slightly and I can
tell by the change in body language that I have finally impressed this fucker.
About goddamned time…
His hand still touching the blue tube, “Impressive.” Just what I was thinking.
I round the bottom of my bed and walk up next to him. I put my own hand on the
tube just next to his and breathe close to his ear, “That’s not all I’ve got
that’s impressive.” His breath catches in his chest a little. I finally have
the upper hand. It’s about time.
Running my hand up his strong back, it lands at the base of his neck and holds
firmly. He hasn’t moved an inch since I started to touch him, but I feel his
heartbeat begin to quicken under my fingertips. I lick my lips and know they’re
glistening in this beautiful light. I lean close to him, our faces just an inch
apart. I breathe warm air onto his face. He’s the same height as me, similar
build, but I’m guessing he’s thicker than I am under that suit. I bet it’s all
muscle. I can’t wait to find out.
I don’t know what it is about him. The money, the intelligence, this custom-cut
suit…but I had to have him. I love a good conquest, but this was something else
entirely. I kept losing him over and over all day. I’d be getting somewhere and
he’d back off. I’d start to make progress and he’d shift direction. The mixed
signals were a bitch. He’s definitely gay I haven’t questioned that…but there
was an indifferent air about him. I thought I felt something in Vance’s office
in those first moments, and then it disappeared. But I’ve got it back
now…tenfold.
No one resists Brian Kinney.
I breathe my warm, moist breath onto his lips for a solid minute before he
breaks. I don’t even know how he held out that long. Most men wouldn’t have.
His hands fly up to either side of my face and he kisses me hard and fast. Like
he’s never been kissed in his whole life and he’s making up for it right here,
with me, right now. His tongue glides in every direction, paving new paths over
every inch of my mouth. I return his lust and wanting with matched desire.
I grab at his tie and then his jacket. I unbutton his dress shirt and the top
of his pants. We’re frantic and fast paced and our breath is frenzied and we’re
acting possessed. There is something we each need that we’re looking for.
Something we’re each missing that we’re hoping to find. What is it Kane? What
are you using me for? Shit…I don’t care. I’m using him too. I use them all.
We push and pull and struggle and work for control. Play turns into genuine
force. I run my hands through his thick dark hair, watch as it fills the space
between each one of my fingers...feel my eyes blur until it looks blond...until
it feels blond...until it belongs to someone else. I yank it back and look into
his dark eyes, eyes that aren't blue, eyes that don't let me see what I want
them to. I buck and fight against him, rake my nails down his now bare back,
sink my teeth into his neck, force his head where I want it to be. I'm
punishing this stranger and I don’t know why. And he doesn't seem to care.
He pulls at the remainder of my clothes. We collapse onto my bed, already
breathless, already panting…but still going full force. We’re exploring each other
and hurting each other and making each other feel different. Feel anything but
what we were feeling before this started.
I
can feel that we're both doing this for the same reason. The void we’re
filling. The self-medication we’re prescribing. I’ve never fucked anyone who
used sex the way that I do. I’ve never done battle with someone as fucked up as
I am.
I yank back his head and straddle him. I grit my teeth, run my tongue over the
backs of them, tasting where he just was. Our eyes lock and our chests heave.
For a moment I am motionless. I hold him powerless underneath me and search his
emotionless expression. I look deep into his murky, brooding eyes. I’m overcome
with sadness. It’s like looking into a mirror. For a moment my guard is down.
My protective armor falls away.
Suddenly I am painfully aware of the emotion that must be written on my face. I
suck it all in, take it all back. I see something flash in his eyes…recognition
of my realization. He sees it too. Knows that we’re cut from the same cloth. We
share some form of deep-seated pain that keeps us the aloof, egotistical,
fuck-em-all, bastards we are. Then he grabs me and starts kissing and rolling
and pulling and touching again. Just what I was about to do…
My muscles tense as breathing becomes all but impossible. We move at a
hysterical pace. I know we've crossed a line and I can't find it to return to
the other side. So far gone I feel my eyes wet with hate and longing and
suppressed emotion. I bury my face into his shoulder, biting and licking his
collarbone, can't let him see this. He doesn't know me at all and I don’t want
him too. But, somehow we’re the same and we both know it.
I'm drowning in this deep sea of blue, can't breathe...struggling to resurface.
My hands fly over the sheets and pillows and duvet. I’m searching for
something…searching for someone. I know what I’m looking for, a boy who no
longer lives here. I have a strange man in my bed and he’ll have to do. I know
he’s looking for something else too, but I will have to do.
We’re still being rough, still leaving marks in one another…but our manic
behavior calms a bit. Some of the aggression leaves the room. Our lips burn as
passion sets our skin ablaze. He’s touching every inch of me now as we roll to
each corner of the bed. He finally lays me out, straight down the center and
locks my arms at my sides. I watch as he begins to traverse his tongue up the
side of my body, outlining the muscles all the way up to my shoulder. He dips
into the curve of my neck leaving a long, cool, wet trail that sends a shiver
down my spine. He kisses me hard again, with his eyes shut, careful to not make
eye contact. We’re done peering into each other’s souls.
Not wanting him to gain a sense of control I push him back and switch our
positions. Then I flip him on o his stomach and begin to lick straight down the
center of his back. I go slowly, methodically until I arrive at the small gap
just above his ass. There’s a soft hollow there, a space I could get lost in on
any man. It’s such a small and seemingly insignificant place…so often left
unexplored…maybe that’s why I like it. I dip my tongue into that space and
swirl it around. He murmurs in approval.
I part his legs with my hands as I run them up the insides of his very
well-defined thighs. He has beautiful legs. I kiss the pearly white skin there
and stop to breathe in the scent of him. Then I continue my ascent with
flutters of kisses, ending on his balls. His already hard cock twitches against
the sheets below, but I don’t touch it. Instead I move up toward his ass, I
hear him sigh deeply.
I part his cheeks with my hands and run my tongue over the interior in long,
languid strokes. He shudders and I quicken the pace. I run my tongue over every
inch of his ass without actually touching his hole. He’s puckering and
clenching and even bucking a little from the torture. I finally give him a
little of what he wants with one quick lick, just enough to get it wet. And
then I blow…
The cool sensation makes him jump. I can tell it surprised him. Just the effect
I was going for. I lick and blow and lick and blow and lick…until his chest
shakes as he tries to breathe in. I’m impressed by his self-control actually,
most wouldn’t have lasted this long.
I continue my torture, holding him down so hard with my hands that each finger
is leaving an imprint. A mark to show where I’ve been. I quicken the pace of my
tongue over his hole and then slip it inside, just a little. Enough to make him
whimper and shake. Then I let it delve further, find the spot…the one I know
will get him there. He isn’t going anywhere now and I let my right hand release
him and move to his balls. I stroke them gently in a matched rhythm with my
tongue. My fingers move up and down as my tongue goes in and out.
Then I move a finger alongside where my tongue is and I slide it in. He moans
and writhes under this new touch. I let my finger rub over his prostate…back
and forth and then in little circles. He’s grunting now, an incoherent song
pouring out of his mouth professing his pleasure. Music to my ears.
I let my finger continue and I add my tongue. Stretching him just a bit to fit
them both inside. He shakes under me and sputters and moans and grasps for
sheets and gasps for breath. He’s so close and I slow down just a bit, bring
him back from the edge. But, he protests loudly, “No!” So I speed up again
until his back arches and the quakes begin. He shoots long and hard with his
mouth dropped open, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.
Then he wriggles out from under my grip and tries to turn over, but I hold him
down tightly. I slither up his body, dragging every inch of my skin over his.
The friction is enough to cause spontaneous combustion. My hard cock pushing
into him, trailing all the way up his legs and ass, comes to sit in the small
of his back. Poking him like a convenience store robber would a clerk with his
the tip of his gun.
My lips to his ear I whisper, “I’m going to fuck you…and you’re going to love
it.” I can feel the words resonate in his body and the uncertainty surge through
his muscles. I know he isn’t a bottom…but he’ll have to be for tonight.
Continuing to use my weight to hold him still, I reach up to my condom bowl and
retrieve one. I tear it with my teeth, slide it on, run my hand over the
smooth, familiar plastic. My ticket to safety, my security blanket. I get a
high from that comforting, powdery smell of latex when you first tear away the
wrapper. Some might say it’s addicting.
I use my knee to part his legs and hear him huff under me. I know he wants
this, but he likes resisting a little. I wait a long moment until I feel him
relax and surrender to me. I slide my hard dick between his ass cheeks and let
it stiffly point into the base of his hole. I drape my body over his and just
wait. Want him to ask me, want him to beg me…and he will.
I
pump my hips a little, but not hard enough to force my dick inside. Just a
slow, shallow rhythm, enough to make him need me. He pushes his ass up toward
me, but I withdrawl my dick so it just barely touches him. I lean in to whisper
to him again, “Do you want me to fuck you?”
There’s a long pause. Our battle for control clearly declaring me the winner.
He’s like me in so many ways, but not in this one. He’ll let me fuck him I can
feel it. I would never let anyone…well hardly anyone.
He huffs it out quietly, “Fuck me.” And I wait, then he says it louder, “Just
fuck me!” By now my gut is turning and tingling and I’m in desperate need of
relief. I run my hand around his hip to find his dick rock hard again. I let my
hand settle over it, using my other to guide my dick into him. It’s a little
rough, didn’t bother with lube, and we both grunt. His filled with a little
pain, mine with a little pleasure. I sink deep into him, trying to find
something familiar inside. But, it’s strange and new. These are things I used
to love. Things I still love, in a way.
I start the rhythm. The one I find with any man. It can be fast, slow or
somewhere in between, like it is right now. I’ve played this scene a million
times before, I know how every line goes. I bite his shoulder, he bucks back in
to me, I clutch at his hip, he hisses with urgency.
I pump and pump until I forget who it is below me. He’s a warm body with enough
smooth skin and testosterone to feed my fantasy. My eyes blur again until his
hair is blond, his body is smaller, his lips are fuller and his eyes are blue.
My lips part as the uncontrollable murmurs of my sex-induced passion song begin
to spill from my body. Grunts and huffs and most inaudible words fill the space
between us and then I say it.
“Justin…”
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