by Xavier Mayne
The pressure on my shoulder increased. My knees gave way, not because of his physical force, but because he had somehow awakened in me a need I hadn’t felt before. He had an air of authority that somehow both demanded my compliance and made it thrilling for me to give it. It was like he was taking all the responsibility for what I was about to do, and all I had to do was go along. It helped that though he was twenty years older than me, his body was in amazing shape. And that cock—well, he was right about it too.
“So you were okay with it?”
“Yeah, I was. He wasn’t my first—I’d known I was gay since I was about five.”
“Wow, that young?”
“Oh yeah. The first time I caught a glimpse of my cousin watching MTV’s Spring Break. She giggled and joked with her friends about the shaving-cream Speedo contest, but I was dead serious about watching every drippy move those guys made.”
“Sounds like you were a pretty advanced five-year-old.”
“Just a lucky one, I think. Never had to spend a moment wondering about whether I liked girls or not. Not that it made it a picnic to grow up gay, but at least I could strike confusion and denial off my to-do list.”
“So when he propositioned you…?”
“Let’s say I was surprised but not disgusted.”
“That’s it,” he murmured, guiding my head toward his crotch. “Be a good boy and kiss it.”
I looked at it, straight on, and realized it had every bit the same air of authority as the man to whom it was attached. It both beckoned me and challenged me, and it was a challenge I wanted to take on.
“Ahh, that’s my boy,” Mr. Big whispered with a groan of pleasure that thrilled me. I was, suddenly, intensely proud of being able to make him rock back on his heels and hold on to my head for balance. I was going to give him exactly what he brought me here for. And mister super businessman, the power player who was always in control, lasted all of a minute and a half. My tongue made that captain of industry my bitch. The orgasm startled him—I could tell by the way he gasped and whimpered.
Donnelly looked Sandler up and down, trying to fit this new information into the impression the suave courier had made on him.
“See, this is why I don’t tell this story,” Sandler said. “You probably think I’m a complete slut.”
“No, not at all. Remind me to tell you sometime how my fiancé and I finally realized we were in love with each other. We all have stuff in our closets others could judge us for. I’m just surprised you were so… adaptable, I guess.”
“Well, when you’re as poor as I was, the idea that someone would pay a considerable chunk of money to spend a week with you is pretty ego-inflating.”
“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” he said as he lifted his cocktail to me at the bar an hour later. “How did you learn to do that?”
“Just a born talent, I guess.”
“I’ve been bringing boys down here for years. None of the others seemed to know what to do. They always hesitate at first, and then they don’t know how to keep from scraping me with their teeth.”
“I think the circumference is working against you there, actually,” I said with a laugh. “Maybe you should try finding men to date, rather than hiring college students whose motivation is more monetary than sexual.”
“So, he turned out to be an okay guy?” Donnelly asked.
“Yeah, he did. Priorities all out of whack, but decent enough in his own way.”
He looked down at his hands for a moment. “I don’t expect you to understand,” he said slowly.
“Understand how the people who invest in your company would react if they found out you like to get frisky with frat boys in St. Bart’s? Yeah, I can get a pretty clear picture of that. But here’s what I don’t understand: You are a handsome man. You are tan and fit and you smell good. You have a little gray at the temples that honestly just makes you hotter. You could have any number of guys—grown-up, real men who could run circles around me when it comes to blow job technique—but you choose to sneak away with random college boys who grudgingly supply you with semicompetent fellatio.”
He looked down at his hands again.
“Actually, I have a hard time imagining you being the escort type,” Donnelly said. “It just doesn’t seem to fit you.”
“I kind of decided that myself,” Sandler replied. “That was my first and last gig as an escort, and I don’t think it turned out exactly as he thought it would.”
“You want me to what?” he asked, even though I’d already said it a second time. His voice was deeper now, more assertive.
But he wasn’t saying no.
“Get on the bed,” I ordered. “Now.” I was scared shitless, but I needed to do this. “I’m going to fuck you.”
His eyebrows leapt up. “No one fucks me,” he spat, real anger lighting his eyes.
I stepped up close to him, grabbed his tie with both hands, pulled him close. “Then I’ll be your first,” I growled right into his face, full of bravery I didn’t feel.
“You can’t do this.” His voice was calmer now, as if he thought he was getting the upper hand. As if he sensed weakness.
“I can and I will.” I set my jaw and stared him down. “And you will beg me to.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, I’m going to fuck you. And you will beg me to,” I repeated.
“Why would I do that?” he said with a sneer. “Are you going to blackmail me? Let me tell you how that works out. Or, better yet, I can tell you where to find the last whore who tried that. He’s in a halfway house somewhere in Oklahoma. Turns out he wasn’t very good at extortion.”
“After he made it clear to me what he wanted, I made it clear to him that I wasn’t going to play the role of the call boy. So we renegotiated the terms of our agreement.”
“How did he take it?” Donnelly asked.
“Turns out he took it pretty well.”
“I’m not going to blackmail you into giving up that ass to me. You are going to give it up because no one’s ever demanded it before now. There’s a reason you only open your bedroom to clueless boys you’re paying to be there. It’s not that you want to be in control, it’s that you’re scared of what will happen if you’re not.” I could see his eyes widen, just for a split second, as I struck a nerve. “Well, you’re not in control anymore. I am. And what you’re going to do is exactly what I want.”
“Bullshit,” he said, but his voice wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been.
“All those boys, over all of those years, and all you really wanted was a man. A man who would throw you on that bed and take what he wants. Whether you want to give it to him or not. But—spoiler alert—you do want to give it to him. To me. Right the fuck now.”
“I… don’t,” he offered, but I didn’t believe it and neither did he.
I grabbed the front of his handmade shirt and tore it apart. The shredding of the fabric seemed to tear the last bit of resistance right out of him, and he slumped a little, staring at me agape. Then, obediently, he loosened the tie that held the remains of the shirt’s collar around his neck. I stepped back to let him undress, watching him the way a fat tourist watches the lobster he’s chosen get lowered into a pot of boiling water. The power was all on my side now.
He was quickly naked and laid out on the bed. I threw off my clothes and straddled his back. I leaned down to whisper into his ear.
“What do you want me to do?” I murmured.
He was silent.
“So he was okay with his escort pushing back?” Donnelly asked.
Sandler smiled. “Actually, in the end, he seemed to want me to.”
I slid down his back, and once I’d reached his legs, I shoved them roughly apart. His ass was a work of art, a perky bubble with a promising split right down the middle. I leaned forward and pulled his muscular cheeks apart, revealing the tightest pucker I’d ever seen. He was not kidding about nobody fucking him. But that was going to change.
I s
pat dead center, and he jolted as if I’d bitten him. I spat again and rubbed it all around his clenched asshole. Then I stuck my finger in my mouth to get it all slick, and I just shoved it right through that knot of flesh.
He let out a yowl that he quickly clamped down on. It became a nonstop growling, grunting string of expletives as he cursed me and all my progenitors. But I put a stop to that when I found his prostate. He sucked in a surprised breath, and I started to work that button like it was Play-Doh. His legs went rigid, and he hardly seemed to be breathing.
“I’m going to ask you again,” I said softly. “What do you want me to do?”
He was still silent.
I reached between his legs and wrapped my fist around his iron-hard cock. I yanked it back until it pointed straight at me. The more I pressed on his P-spot the more glistening fluid appeared at the tip of his dick, and I began to rub that around with the thumb of my other hand. I felt his hips twitch, and I knew I had him.
“This is your last chance. Say it, or I leave you right here, right now, and I’m never coming back.”
He drew two pained, shuddering breaths. Then a low whisper.
“What? What was that?” I spat again on his ass and drove a second finger in.
He whimpered. Then I could just barely hear his voice: “Fuck me.”
“I didn’t quite catch that,” I taunted, my fingers grinding into his prostate. With my other hand, I released his slick cockhead and flicked lightly at his balls. That got his attention.
“Fuck me,” he said with a groan. “Please, fuck me.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “No.”
“Didn’t it seem kind of risky?” Donnelly asked. “Since he’d taken you so far from home and you were depending on him to get you back. He could have just abandoned you there.”
Sandler laughed. “I think there are many opportunities on St. Bart’s for a young man of certain talents, so I probably wasn’t in danger of starving to death. But I’d already decided that accompanying rich older men for money wasn’t really my thing. That’s what I learned about myself from the experience: that a relationship needs to have a balance of power in order to work.”
He was stunned. I could tell by the way his shoulders dropped and his head hung low. “Please, God, please fuck me. Sandler, please, you have to fuck me. Now!” His hips thrust as if I were already inside him, stretching him, pounding him into the bed.
I yanked my fingers out of his ass, and reached for the condoms by the side of the bed. I rolled one on, covered it with lube until it dripped a puddle onto the bed, and then covered my fingers with the stuff and jammed them back inside. He sucked in a sharp breath and then began moaning again.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he muttered, like it was the mantra that guaranteed his ascension to Nirvana.
I placed my cock at his asshole, which had loosened not one bit despite my prying fingers. This was going to hurt.
“Make me feel it,” he moaned, as if we were connected by our minds as well as our bodies.
“Oh, you’re going to feel it,” I promised him. I didn’t really want to hurt him, but honestly there was no helping it. I was too big, and he was too small, for it to be any other way.
“Well, I guess it turned out the best way it could for you,” Donnelly said.
“You’re right. Once it became clear that he was okay with our new equal status, we actually had a pretty good time that week.”
The next morning he woke me with a kiss on my forehead. “Sleepyhead, it’s time to get up,” he whispered.
I opened my eyes and saw him, standing in a robe, smiling down at me.
“You can walk,” I said, a little surprised.
He chuckled. “The first few steps were a bit delicate, but I seem to be okay now. You were a force of nature last night.”
“You were no slouch yourself,” I said, sitting up in the bed. “There’s no way I expected a repeat performance, but three times? Man, you are tough.”
“Me? All the boys I’ve brought here, and you are the first who’s ever stood up to me that way. It was amazing.” He sat down on the bed next to me. “And I trust you will amaze me several times a day for the rest of the week.” He kissed me softly. “Now, they’ve set up breakfast on the terrace, so let’s fuel up. Being amazed really takes it out of a guy.”
He stood, and I saw something in him I’d not seen before. He was happy. Like a weight had been lifted from him, and he was suddenly buoyant. What had weighed him down was what I had taken from him last night: control. Having given that up—even just for a night—he could finally be at peace.
“What?” he asked, looking at me with a puzzled expression.
“You’re… beautiful.”
He smiled, and his cheeks pinked up a bit. “No one’s ever told me that,” he said softly.
“You’ve been hanging out with the wrong people,” I said as I pulled back the covers and stepped out of bed. I kissed him in passing as I walked toward the terrace, naked. He followed, letting the robe drop as he joined me for breakfast.
“So after that…?”
“After that I decided even though I wasn’t going to be an escort, I’d always wanted to travel, so I looked for legit courier opportunities. My businessman—who’s happily married now to a fitness model you’ve no doubt seen if you’ve ever shopped for underwear—gave me a glowing reference as to my courier abilities, and so the next jobs came pretty easily. Being on planes for so many hours gave me plenty of time to get my homework done, so I was able to graduate with honors even though I missed class quite a bit. Then I could start taking jobs full-time, and I’ve been on the road ever since.”
“Where’s home, then?” Donnelly asked.
“You’re looking at it,” Sandler replied. “Everything I own is packed into a bag that fits the overhead bin on any plane in the world. I do laundry on layovers.”
“But you must go somewhere for holidays.”
Sandler shook his head. “Nope. Family didn’t really work out for me, so I spend holidays carrying stuff that really needs to get somewhere on Christmas or New Year’s or whatever. For which the pay is astronomical, by the way.” He looked out the window again for a long moment. “But lately I’ve been thinking….”
“That it might be nice to have a home somewhere and someone to come home to?” Donnelly ventured.
Sandler nodded, slowly and a little sadly. “I must be getting old, Gabriel.”
“It’s not that,” Donnelly said with more certainty in his voice than he had intended. “You’ve done amazing things, and that’s great. But I’ve come to realize that without someone to share my accomplishments with, they just aren’t… real? I guess that’s it. Until I share something with Ethan, it just doesn’t fully exist to me. That’s the best way I can describe it.” He looked at Sandler, searching for comprehension in his eyes. “Does that make sense?”
Sandler met his gaze, held it for a long moment. “It does,” he said finally. “That is exactly what I’ve been feeling.” He shook his head slightly. “How lucky am I, to have you show up and tell me just what I needed to hear?”
Donnelly smiled. “Ethan would die laughing if he heard you say that. He’s always after me for meddling. Thank you for not telling me to keep my busybody advice to myself.”
“Never. But I do want to find out more about this amazing man you’ve landed.” Sandler shifted in his seat, turning toward Donnelly. “Now, tell me how it all began.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it? It makes your story seem pretty PG-13.”
“All the better,” Sandler replied, eyebrows peaked expectantly.
“SO, TWO straight guys, best friends, end up having video sex with each other?” Sandler laughed as Donnelly wrapped up his story of how he and Brandt had discovered their feelings for each other. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Hot as hell, but ridiculous.”
“It didn’t seem ridiculous at the time—I thought I’d gone completely cr
azy. You don’t know how lucky you are, knowing that you were gay from the time you were five. It hit me all at once, and at twenty-six. And it took my best friend on the other end of a sex-cam line to make me see it.”
“What else did he make you see?” Sandler asked with a wink.
Donnelly grinned. “Everything except what he kept under his bright red jockstrap.” He paused for effect. “And then he took that off too.”
Sandler fanned himself like a Southern belle struck with the vapors. “This fiancé of yours, is he… like you?”
Donnelly couldn’t help but catch the innuendo. “Oh, he’s much more than me,” he replied with a laugh. “In general, and in the part that the red jockstrap covered. Well, barely covered.” He reached for his phone and flicked to his photo albums. He found a picture of Brandt taken during their recent vacation at the Villa Hermes, reclining against a sheer black granite wall. He was shirtless (and pantsless as well, though Donnelly had cropped the photo to keep it relatively dignified), with his powerful arms up and hands clasped behind his head. Donnelly held the phone up for Sandler.
“Oh fuck,” he breathed. Then he startled as if slapped. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I didn’t mean to—”
Donnelly held up a hand. “No worries—I still say that myself sometimes. You should have heard what I said after our video-sex thing, as I pounded my head on the bathroom floor and tried to keep from throwing up.”
“Wait, I thought you said it was the video thing that got you two together.”
“It was, ultimately. Eventually I was able to pick myself up from the bathroom floor, and I went to his place to wait for him to come home.” Donnelly shook his head, lost for a moment in the memory. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“But just like that you went from being buddies to being a couple?”
“It wasn’t quite that easy. But our families were wonderful—well, all except my mother, who still isn’t speaking to me—and we’ve got a lot of great friends.”