Skin

by Christian Baines

  “Guy behind the bar said I was fine.”

  “Yeah, Dan talks a lot of shit. You had him dreamin’ about gettin’ his dick wet the moment he laid eyes on you. He likes you pretty farm boy types. Besides, he’s got a hell of a time tryin’ to keep guys on. Lot of no shows, if you get—”

  “What’s your goddamn point?”

  The guy looked away, his smile never wavering.

  “What? You’re sayin’ I suck? That’s your point. I fuckin’ suck, basically.”

  “Awww, don’t be sore. So what? Did you think you were gonna be hot shit your first time up?”

  Kyle seethed, gritting his teeth as he turned and started walking. Damn fool. Risking losing Antoine, even, and for what? A few bucks stuffed down his jock from guys wanting a peep at his johnson? All the while surrounded by guys twice his size who could dance better? No fucking thanks. Who’d he been kidding?

  “Yeah, sure, keep walkin’, man. Just another dumb hick, talkin’ like he can hustle a big game.”

  Kyle spun around so fast, he thought he was going to leap on the guy right there. But that same smile stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “I could help you out.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “You sure as hell need somebody’s help if you want to cover your spot tomorrow. You ain’t gonna get two bucks down your jock if you don’t chill the fuck out.”

  “And just how am I supposed to do that?”

  The guy smiled again, tossing his head at a darkened side street. “Let’s get out of the light here.”

  “Hey, no fuckin’ way, man. Piss off!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Guess I got my eye on all that cash bundled up in those empty pockets of yours. Man, you really gotta wizen up some. We’re gettin’ out of the light because you don’t want your sexy ass—and you do have one, farm boy—shakin’ out where anyone can see you for free.”

  Doing nothing to conceal a loud, frustrated grunt, Kyle relented. What could it hurt? He could use all the help he could get.

  “You know what your problem was up there, right?” the guy continued, throwing a glance up either side of the street, making sure they were alone. “You worried too much about what Dan was gonna think of you.”

  “Ain’t that what counts?”

  “Man, it’s like I told you. You had Dan’s tongue out between his man titties the second you walked in. Him and a whole bunch of other guys. You just gotta pretend they ain’t there. I don’t mean be rude. But don’t be too eager to please.”

  “How the fuck am I—”

  “Easy there, farm boy. Just close your eyes a second.”

  Kyle shook his head. “This is stupid. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  “Hey!” the guy suddenly shouted into the street. “Step right up! Come and get it! We got a cashed up white boy over here!”

  “Are you fuckin’ crazy?” Kyle hissed, grabbing the dancer by his tank top and pulling him close. As the back of his fingers brushed the smooth, pale muscles of the guy’s chest, he instantly regretted it. He was hard again.

  “Ain’t nobody here but us.” The dancer grinned, gently breaking Kyle’s hold. The guy was pure sex, raw and walking. No way in hell was Kyle gonna compete with that. Still, if this guy could give him a few pointers… “Now close your eyes.”

  Kyle did as he was told. He could still feel the guy’s heat, especially now he was leaning closer. Kyle felt his breath break over his shoulder.

  “You were thinkin’ about dancin’ up there, right?”

  He swallowed as he nodded.

  “Right. When instead, you gotta be thinkin’ about sex.”

  “Huh?”

  “Like what do you think about when you jerk off?”

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  “Hey! Keep ‘em closed. I asked you an easy question.”

  “Which is none of your goddamn business.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, you big idiot,” the guy spat back. “Just think about it. Get a picture goin’ in your mind. Whaddya like? Guys? Girls? Big tits? Big long black cock?”

  “Jesus fuck! What is your prob—” Kyle’s eyes sprang open again as the guy stepped closer without warning, his warmth now radiating off his own, his warm breath surprising Kyle with its sweetness.

  “What about somethin’ like this?” the guy asked, gently taking Kyle’s hand and caressing the smooth, lean curve of his own chest muscles with it.

  Kyle swallowed, trying to yank his hand away, but the guy wouldn’t budge. “Get off me.”

  “Shhhhh. Close your eyes again. Pretend it ain’t me. Anyone you want, farm boy. Captain of the football or wrestlin’ team? It don’t matter. Just get a picture in your mind.”

  Fuck it. Kyle was ready to do just about anything to shut the guy up. Swallowing once more, he thought about Antoine. The soft feel of his skin, flawlessly smooth, its darkness deepening as he imagined those small, inky nipples, smaller than the one he could feel—

  “Hey! What the fuck are you—”

  “Shhhhh. You’re doing fine, farm boy. Trust me.”

  He closed his eyes again, picturing Antoine’s face, the bright smile that had broken through his lips. Those dark eyes that went on forever. He felt his hand gliding over the dancer’s skin again, the pull of the tank top against his wrist as the guy brought his hand down, down, sliding over the lip of… abs. Abs, Antoine didn’t have. The skin felt different too. Harder than Antoine’s. And its smell contained nothing of his lover’s fastidiousness. Nothing of the colognes Antoine applied in just the right quantity to stir Kyle’s curiosity but never make him gag. This guy smelled like work in a bar. Beer, sweat, the remnants of a cigarette, crumpled singles, and sex.

  Kyle felt his fingers being guided down the faint crease in the guy’s stomach. Then the flop of slightly damp cotton landing on his wrist. How had the cunning fuck managed to slip off the tank without breaking his hold? The scent was stronger now, and there was no mistaking how familiar it was. How much he’d missed it.

  No way could this asshole be one of his uncle’s farm guys. The dancer was his age, and his uncle’s boys had always been a good ten or fifteen years older. But something about the man stirred his memory, reliving the same ache and heat that filled him when he’d seen that first guy laying in the back of his truck with a scrunched-up work shirt under his head and a spent beer can beside him. Thick, well worked arms had relaxed above his head, his jeans undone just far enough for Kyle to make out his ‘invitation,’ as one of the guys had called it.

  “You got that picture now?” the dancer whispered.

  Kyle nodded, trying to ignore his boner. No, wait. Wasn’t that the whole point? To feel like this? Or make other guys feel like… Fuck! Now he was all confused.

  “You’re over-thinkin’ again, farm boy. I can tell. I asked, are you picturin’ it?”

  “Yeah,” he finally got out. “I see it.”

  “Good.”

  Kyle felt the shudder go through him as the man’s breath broke over his lips. He barely noticed the guy had grabbed his erection, sliding Kyle’s hand down the rest of his torso until Kyle felt his fingers hooked into the lip of the guy’s pants, resting on the tip of his moistened cock.

  “I should…” he whispered. “I can’t—”

  He hushed Kyle again with one long, almost silent breath. Kyle licked at his dry lips, shuddering again as the tip of his tongue touched the guy’s mouth. He felt the man’s body heat come closer. Felt the thick shaft of the strange cock slip through his hand as he gently gripped it. He swallowed involuntarily as a drop of precum smeared his palm and they brushed cheeks.

  “You want to taste that again?”

  The smell of the guy’s hunger drove him crazy. How long could it take? A minute? Some of the farm guys had cum in less.

  “I can’t,” he protested again, embarrassed by the weakness of his voice.

  “Shhh. You’re feelin’ it now though, ain’t you?” The cockiness and
meanness that had sharpened the dancer’s voice before was gone.

  He felt a hand ease down the lip of his jock, shivering again as the guy caressed it with cold fingers. A gentle moan escaped him as his cock slid smoothly into the guy’s hand, and he barely stopped himself crying out as the guy’s little finger brushed under the lip of its head.

  “Yeah, man. That’s it. That’s what it’s all about.”

  Kyle barely fought back his whimpering as the man settled his fist into a steady rhythm, back and forth on his cock. He was too distracted by the guy’s scent and the cold ridges of strong fingers as they squeezed, then released his cock in a rhythm that matched his own grip on the man.

  The dancer moaned as Kyle pressed his thumb into the base of his cock before taking the hint, teasing the head with his little finger.

  “Fuck,” the man breathed. “You learn fast, farm boy.”

  “Don’t talk.” He pushed himself forward again, enjoying the slickness of his own precum as it warmed the cold fingers. Their rhythm grew faster, the heat reminding him of the farm guys. Their taste, that grassy smell, soaked with earth, beer, and work. How he’d gripped and pulled at his own cock, harder than ever from that first salty lick. How he’d eagerly gorged himself, right down to the musky hilt of each one.

  The dancer gripped him tighter, clapping a hand over his mouth as his body erupted, sending hot seed over the man. Seconds later, he felt the guy’s sex empty into his own hand, his shoulder muffling the dancer’s moan.

  Kyle collapsed against the wall, feeling the slender dancer’s warm chest heaving against his own as each regained his breath. What had he just done? Jerked off with some stripper in the darkness of a back street? The sourness of sweat and cum clung to the air. Clung to both of them. He felt what was left of the guy’s load on his fingertips.

  “Whooeee! Damn, farm boy!” He eased himself off Kyle and wiped his hands on his tank before doing up his shorts.

  Kyle wiped his hand off on the wall behind him as best he could and put away his now flaccid junk. He didn’t have anything to say.

  “That was some shit. Worth it. Totally worth it.” The guy was smiling at him again. That same cockiness back in his eye. The smirk right back in place. Worth it? If Kyle hadn’t understood the smirk before, he sure did now. It said just one thing. Gotcha.

  His fist slammed into the guy’s head before he’d even made up his mind to do it. The bastard let out a howl, looking up at Kyle just in time to catch another hit right below the eye.

  The dancer cried out again, shielding his face. “Jee-sus! What the fuck, man?

  “You stay the fuck away from me! You understand? You ever fuckin’ touch me again, I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!”

  “Fuckin’ asshole! You liked it!” The guy backed off, cowering as Kyle lurched toward him one more time.

  Kyle wanted to land just one more. One more swing at the guy was all he needed to…to what? He’d made his damn point. He turned his back and marched back toward the light.

  “Don’t you even think about comin’ back to the bar, asshole,” the guy cried after him. “I see you there tomorrow, you’re dead. You hear me? Crazy cunt!”

  In the darkness, Kyle saw the guy jump as he rounded on him again. Sure. Kyle was bigger, taller, and could probably lay the guy flat out in a second if he wanted to. But what would have been the point? His mind began eating itself as he charged through the dark streets. You liked it. You liked it. The truth behind those words turned his stomach. He hadn’t even liked the guy.

  And Antoine.

  What the fuck was he supposed to tell Antoine?

  MARC

  Marc could barely remember that first time he’d blown Ash. Not the sweetness or bitterness or saltiness of Ash’s cock, nor how the faint musky scent of pubic area sprinkled with sweat had smelled to him that first time. He’d all but forgotten how soft the inside of Ash’s thighs had first seemed, covered in their light down of barely visible blond hairs so soft he could barely feel them under his fingertips. He couldn’t quite remember how the firm muscles of Ash’s stomach had felt under his fingers that first time either. Muscles that dozens of johns had touched and lusted for every other night. Even now, as Marc stroked them, the sensation seemed so alien, beautiful, and new. He lapped at the tip of Ash’s dick, grateful for its taste and scent, the weight and warmth of it in his mouth. But even this did little to stir his memories of that first night when Ash had let Marc blow him.

  He remembered some parts. Don’t stop, and then, wham. Shoved hard to the floor. Choking as Ash pressed him against the front door with all his strength. What you doing, cocksucker?

  Why hadn’t he left right then and there? Had he just been desperate? Or maybe the sex was worth it. Worth the risk. Perhaps it was the danger that excited him the most.

  The shaft of Ash’s penis pushed through to the back of his throat. Its owner moaned with satisfaction, perhaps even appreciation, though it seemed brave to entertain that thought, even with Ash’s moans affirming every smooth stroke of his tongue.

  Ever since their first night, blowing Ash had brought a smile to Marc’s face as unshakeable as the one worn by the bloody skull etched into Ash’s stomach, floating in all its grinning, ghoulish glory above a perfect thatch of blond pubes.

  His memories of the night they’d met were clearer. The night Ash had lured his nervous ass back with a drink, and they’d got to talking. The night he’d learned what a john was. He’d known then that this beautiful, hard looking blond kid was a lone wolf, like him. Now it seemed they made a good pair, in so far as you could call them that.

  Ash’s fingers ran through his uneven shock of brown hair as the guy moaned again.

  “Feel good?” he asked, stroking the underside of Ash’s balls.

  “Don’t talk.”

  His dick hardened instantly as Ash gripped his hair, then released him just as fast. Not that Ash couldn’t hurt him if he was set on it. But Marc was a strong guy, too. He could handle himself, and Ash knew it. They’d had their disagreements and scrapes. But Ash had been right about one thing. They needed each other, and watching his back around Ash’s temper, putting up with the bastard’s games, was a small price for being that one guy Ash would drop the bullshit for and let suck him off just because he wanted it. It felt good to be trusted that much. Maybe that was why their first night felt so distant.

  Ash moaned again, deeper, his eyes going wide as Marc went down on him.

  Marc reached up, enjoying the steady, predictable contours of Ash’s abs as he counted them off again. One, two, three, four... an eight-pack that contracted and heaved under his touch.

  It sure was a hell of a step up from Ash losing his shit. Now, the guy’s grin spread wide across his face as his cock speared its smooth course over Marc’s tongue. Ash’s inner faggot sure had grown some.

  “Wait,” said Ash, holding him still.

  With the weight of Ash’s cock still heavy in his mouth, Marc heard the click behind his left ear. The lock of his hair being raised. “No,” he got out, hurriedly disengaging his mouth.

  “What?” asked Ash, his knife gently touching behind Marc’s ear. “Don’t you trust me?’”

  Marc fell silent, trying not to wince as the cool blade pressed into his skin. Ash had to be holding it backward. The blade edge would have sliced into him on the first touch.

  “Do you want my cock or not?” Ash asked, running a finger through Marc’s hair again.

  Marc’s cock twitched with hunger. Anticipation. The tip of Ash’s erection pushed against his lips, its warmth all the more noticeable with the cold metal at his neck.

  “Marc?”

  “I trust you.”

  Ash’s steely blue eyes bathed him in skepticism through an unfading smile. “Just a bit of excitement, Marky. You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I know. Can you put it away, please?” Marc felt the knife turn. Slowly. Deliberately. “Ash—” He flinched as the blade nicked his skin, so sha
rp and fast it barely hurt.

  Ash was already wiping it between his fingers when he looked up. Satisfied, he dropped to his knees, leaned into Marc’s neck and licked the cut clean.

  “If you say so.”

  The stale odor of cigarette smoke hung on Ash’s lips as they brushed Marc’s face. Marc couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him as he inhaled it. Ash’s lips were on his before he realized it, the slightly sour, smoky taste of the guy’s tongue breaking through to find his own. Marc shivered at the firmness of Ash’s grip on his shoulders. The power in those arms flowed through the thick, corded veins. Marc sighed, scared and yet, strangely content in Ash’s grip, his cock rigid.

  Was it Ash’s first time kissing a man who wasn’t a john? Just because he’d wanted to?

  As Ash gripped him again, he could feel the guy’s finger, teasing the thin strip of flesh beneath his balls. No fair. No fair at all! As he fell backward onto the mattress, the thin sheet felt fresh and cool, cutting through the humidity that soaked their naked backs. Ash’s cock was still hot and full, animated as it bumped against his flesh. No, his ass. Ash was lifting his legs.

  “Ash?”

  “Shhhh...”

  Strange adoration filled those steely blue eyes. It unsettled him at first, then for one comforting moment, it seemed genuine as Ash’s handsome face pitched toward him, locking them together in another kiss.

  “Who do you belong to?” Ash asked again, spitting into his hand.

  Marc let his hands rest on the hardness of Ash’s body, where he could explore his strong back and shoulders. “You.”

  Ash grinned at him with perfect white teeth, sliding his moistened cock between Marc’s buttocks.

  “Ash!”

  Ash clutched Marc’s wrist and pinned it against his chest. “It’s what you wanted isn’t it, you little faggot? You’ve been wanting it for weeks.”

  Marc cried out as the rest of Ash’s cock head slid into him. A deep moan escaped him as the rest of the shaft followed. In the split second before his mind went blank, he wondered if Ash was right. If this is what Marc had been wanting all along, from the moment he’d spied Ash’s lithe, athletic shape in the bar, to the first time he’d seen Ash masturbating his swollen cock beneath the same thin sheet now tangled between their legs. Right up to tonight, when Ash had rewarded his touch with a kiss, and—