Destination, Wedding!

by Xavier Mayne

  “That was fuckin’ amazing,” Rooster said with a sigh. “No one’s ever got me to nut that quick.”

  “We’re just getting started,” Bryce replied with a smile. “Nestor?”

  Nestor reached into the pocket of his impossibly skinny black jeans and pulled out a small flat silver case. He touched it on its edge, and it popped open, revealing a quartet of lube packs on one side and a half-dozen condoms in shiny foil on the other. Like a nurse in surgery, Nestor slapped a lube pack smartly into Bryce’s open palm. Bryce tore off the neck of the pack with his teeth and squirted a dollop onto the angry red head of Rooster’s cock. He swirled the slick gel around the helmet of flesh with his fingertips, bringing a content sigh from its owner.

  “Ready for something more intense?” Bryce cooed, unbuttoning his pants with his other hand.

  Rooster chuckled. “No way that little ass is gonna be able to take me. Bigger men than you have tried and given up, crying like little punks when I was less than halfway in.”

  Bryce slipped off his silky underwear, stood naked from the waist down, and smiled sweetly at Rooster. “There’s no crying in sodomy, darling.”

  Bryce threw one slender leg over Rooster’s thighs, facing the thick instrument that had apparently brought lesser men to tears. He extended his hand, and Nestor quickly slapped a condom packet into it. Bryce tore the packet open, and placed the rubbery ring atop Rooster’s member.

  “No condoms,” Rooster grunted.

  “Excuse me?” Bryce replied as he prepared to roll the condom on.

  “No fuckin’ condoms,” Rooster growled. “If I’m gonna fuck you, I want to feel it. And I want you to feel it when I fill you up. Fags line up around the block to get at this man’s cock, and if one of them won’t take me bareback, I just go on to the next. I musta fucked a dozen fags in the last year, and not one bitched me out about condoms. Now, fuckin’ sit on my dick, or I’ll fuckin’ hold you down and make it hurt.”

  Bryce regarded the man he straddled. An eyebrow slowly raised, reaching a fearsome peak. “I see,” he said, his voice carefully calm. “Nestor, we shall require extra equipment.” Nestor leapt up and hurried to the compartment where they had stowed their bags.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Rooster growled, sitting up and thrusting Bryce off his legs.

  “Here’s what’s going on,” Bryce replied, kneeling on the bed. “I simply need a couple of things from my bag if we’re going to do what you want me to do. And you do want it, don’t you, sir?” Bryce rubbed a meandering hand over his smooth, perfect buttocks. Rooster’s eye was immediately drawn, and his eyes widened without his seeming to notice.

  “Huh,” he said, taking a long look at Bryce’s ass. “What kinda things you need? I could fuck you right now with just spit.”

  “How charming. I’m sure you could. But I’m kind of particular about barebacking, to be honest. Comes from having been raised in a very strict home. Every single day my parents would scold me. ‘Bryce, you should try out for baseball! Bryce, those shoes don’t go with that belt! Bryce, don’t you dare take it up the ass without a condom!’ Ugh, parents, right?”

  Rooster stared blankly at him.

  “Anyway,” Bryce continued, undaunted, “I do so love barebacking, just like all of those fags who line up around the block, but it really helps if I’m… well….”

  “What?” Rooster demanded. His hand found his cock and gave it a quick couple of strokes, as if he were worried it would soften during all of this talking.

  “Tied down,” Bryce whispered and batted his eyes coquettishly. “I just need to be tied down, spread-eagle, unable to close my legs to keep you from forcing your way in. In fact, I may need to be gagged as well, because I’ll probably beg you not to be so rough.” He leaned in and muttered, “I trust you will be rough.”

  Rooster’s huge grin returned. “Aw, hell yeah I will be.”

  Nestor bustled in with a bundle of soft red ropes. “Who want to play Boy Scout?” he called.

  Rooster leapt up and grabbed the ropes from Nestor. “Gimme those.” He shook out the bundle into four separate lengths and reached under the bed to find tie-off points. He lashed ropes to the two corners at the head of the bed, then brushed past Nestor on his way to the foot. “You’re next.”

  Nestor’s face was that of a lottery winner, and he jumped up and down and clapped his hands softly.

  “There,” Rooster said, looking at the four lengths of rope anchored to the bed. “Now, get your ass up there.”

  Bryce took his time mounting the bed, knowing that Rooster would be fascinated by the sight of his bubble butt, waiting for the moment when he would spread his legs to the corners of the bed and his final secret would be revealed. So transfixed was he that he didn’t notice Nestor quickly making slipknots.

  Once Bryce was in position, and Rooster had gotten a good look, he leaned forward to secure Bryce’s wrist to the rope at the left corner of the bed. Bryce pulled his wrist playfully away, but Rooster captured it and wrapped the rope tightly around it. Before he could make the knot secure, however, Bryce twisted away again.

  “Fuckin’ stop that,” Rooster shouted, flashing to lust-fueled anger.

  “Here, I help,” Nestor said as he came around to the head of the bed. With lithe fingers he quickly completed the knot and pulled it tight. On Rooster’s wrist.

  “What the fuck?” roared Rooster, red-faced with fury. It was only as he tried to lunge at Nestor that he realized his ankles were already lashed to the foot of the bed. He had only one hand free, and as Bryce rolled out from under him he swung wildly, trying to strike either or both of them in his ferocious anger.

  Both men leapt at his free hand and caught it in all four of their own. Nestor slipped the rope over it and cinched it tight. Now Rooster was the one tied naked and spread-eagled on the bed.

  “Untie me! Fuckin’ untie me!” he bellowed, struggling mightily against the ropes. They held securely—this was not Nestor’s first rodeo.

  “Shall we leave him for a while to see if he calms down?” Bryce asked as they stood at the foot of the bed looking at the struggling nude man.

  “No! Don’t fuckin’ leave me here!”

  “Then you need to calm down.” Bryce folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot.

  Rooster stopped yelling, and his thrashing was reduced to the occasional yanking on the ropes, as if they might somehow have come loose since he last tugged on them.

  “That’s better.” Bryce sat on the edge of the bed and patted Rooster on the shoulder. “Now, Mr. Rooster, here’s something you need to know. Nestor and I do not, ever, have unprotected sex with anyone except each other. No self-respecting gay man would consent to what you asked. Now, I have no doubt that you have been able to find men who would do so, out of their own self-loathing or in some drug-addled state or simply because they didn’t know better. But every time you had anal sex without a condom, you were committing assault. You were endangering your life and the lives of the men you fucked. Do you understand?”

  “Fuck you,” Rooster growled. “Like I care what some faggot wants.”

  “No, you will not fuck me. And it’s a shame, because you really are stupendous. As am I.”

  Rooster kept his own counsel for a long moment. “Okay, you’ve made your point. Now, in case you’ve forgotten, I have to fly this fucking plane, so you’d better untie me right the fuck now.”

  “No, I don’t think I will,” Bryce said, standing. He picked up his clothes and started to get dressed again. “You need a little more time to reflect on your poor choices.”

  “I am the fucking pilot of this fucking plane!” he bellowed, but Bryce was unmoved.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Bryce said as he smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt, “we need to have a little conversation with your copilot.”

  “What?” Rooster shrieked, clearly unhinged by this prospect. “No fucking way!”

  “I’m sure we’ll be right back, dear. Yo
u just stay where you are.” Bryce and Nestor swept from the room as Rooster continued to thrash and holler.

  Bryce marched through the airplane directly to the cockpit door.

  “My love, are you sure of this?” Nestor asked along the way.

  “Of course, Nestor, dear.”

  “But Rooster say the copilot, he stupid.”

  “I heard. But did you see the way they looked at each other before they went into the cockpit? There’s more going on there than Rooster says. And unless I miss my guess, telling our Mr. Ballard about Rooster’s bad behavior is exactly what we need to do.” He rapped smartly at the cockpit door. “Mr. Ballard? Mr. Ballard!”

  The cockpit door swung open abruptly, and Ballard’s scowling face peered out at them. “What?” He clearly was not happy about being disturbed.

  “Mr. Ballard, I am Bryce, and this is my associate, Nestor. So pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Ballard grunted and drew himself up to full height as if he expected a confrontation. “Look, I’m busy.”

  “Of course you are, sir. I would just like to let you know that the pilot, Mr. Rooster? He…. Well, I’m not sure how to say this,” Bryce lied (he had ways to say things much more salacious than this). “But he made a rather unsavory suggestion to Nestor and myself, and we really had no choice but to… well, he’s in the bedroom.”

  Ballard stared blankly for a moment. “What’s he doing in there?”

  “He’s… indisposed.”

  Realization broke over Ballard’s face. He slowly closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck. Not again.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Let me guess. He brought you on board for this trip because he wanted you to suck his dick all the way across the Pacific, right? And then things started to get rough?”

  “Well, aren’t you the smart one,” Bryce flattered.

  “No, I’m apparently stupid, because I haven’t been able to keep him from doing this. Last month two guys from the ‘air-conditioning service’ ended up getting pretty banged up. He said a duct cover fell on them, which was complete bullshit, but they wouldn’t say anything about what really happened.” His mouth curled into a disgusted frown as he looked past Bryce and Nestor toward the back of the plane. Then his gaze snapped back to them. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “No, not at all,” Bryce replied, casually touching an already perfectly placed strand of hair. “His is a block we have been around before, alas.”

  “And you’re sure you’re okay?” Concern softened Ballard’s expression as he looked Bryce and Nestor up and down.

  “We’re fabulous, thank you for asking. But we did leave Mr. Rooster tied up in the bedroom.” Bryce shrugged and gave his best “que sera” look.

  “You tied him up?” Ballard looked from Bryce to Nestor and back again. “You two together must weigh as much as that asshole’s left leg, and you tied him up?”

  “As I said, sir, we’ve had some experience with his kind.”

  “This I gotta see,” Ballard blurted and charged toward the back of the plane. He turned back after a few jogging steps. “Jake, your plane,” he called toward the cockpit.

  “My plane” came a voice in reply.

  “There are more of you?” Bryce looked in surprise at Nestor, then peered into the cockpit. “Is this an airplane or a clown car?”

  “I’m just your humble relief pilot,” the owner of the voice answered back. “Flights this long require us to rotate the grave responsibility of watching the autopilot do all the work.” He laughed at his own joke. “Name’s Jake. Pleased to meet you, Bryce and…. Nestor, was it?” Jake turned to look through the cockpit door.

  Bryce registered blue eyes, a wide white smile, and cheekbones that spoke of hearty Midwestern heritage. A humpy farm boy in the sky. They stepped closer.

  “Si,” Nestor answered, eyes wide with the thrill of being noticed by the strapping young pilot who now flew the plane.

  “So, Jake,” Bryce said, his voice full of the sultry thrill of saying that manly name, “once Rooster is back in the cockpit, perhaps you can come see us, just to get better acquainted?”

  “I’d like that a lot. As thrilling as being a relief pilot sounds, it’s actually kind of a bore.”

  “We may be able to add some excitement to your duty,” Bryce offered.

  Jake answered with a deep, resonant laugh. “Sounds good. But once Ballard gets through with Rooster, he may not be up to flying. I think the dam broke this time.”

  “Oh dear,” Bryce whispered. He turned to Nestor. “You don’t think he might be angry enough to take advantage of Rooster’s prone and vulnerable position?”

  Nestor pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned on the camera.

  “A prudent measure. We should go check to be sure they’re getting along.”

  Bryce and Nestor slowed as they approached the closed bedroom door and tiptoed up to it. Silently, they pressed their ears against the highly polished wood.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Ballard spat angrily.

  “Because if you do, I’ll tell them about that layover in Singapore when you sucked my dick all night long. I’ll tell your wife too, you motherfucker.”

  Bryce’s eyes widened as he listened.

  “Nothing happened in Singapore, or anywhere else, and no one will believe otherwise,” Ballard replied. “You need some help, man. You need to learn that you can’t just wave your dick at your problems and have them disappear.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I should invite Bryce and Nestor back here to take a run at you. If they can truss you up like one of your Thai whores, they could probably wreck that ass of yours.”

  “Those faggots and their pencil dicks couldn’t—”

  “Well, now, that’s just offensive,” Bryce called as he pushed through the door into the bedroom. “And honestly, darling”—Bryce looked frankly into the gap where Rooster’s widespread legs met—“it looks to me like you could take an entire box of pencils and hardly feel it.”

  “Oh snap,” Ballard said, holding his palm high. Bryce slapped it with a giggle.

  “So here’s how this is going to go down, as it were,” Ballard continued. “I’m going to take a few pictures of your… predicament, and then I’ll take statements from Bryce and Nestor here about their experience. Now, if you don’t contest their side of the story, the pictures will be our little secret. But if you ever—I mean ever—do anything like this again, I will make sure that everyone who’s anyone will get a copy of this.” He aimed his camera directly at Rooster’s ass and clicked the shutter.

  Rooster grunted, but spoke no more.

  Ballard took pictures from several other angles, then pocketed his phone. “Now, gentlemen, let’s retire to the lounge and have a little talk about what happened here.” He turned back to Rooster, who still thrashed on the bed. “You stay right where you are, okay, buddy?” Ballard closed the bedroom door with a smile. He led Bryce and Nestor to the couches in the center compartment of the plane and motioned for them to sit.

  “If you’re going to take our statements on video,” Bryce said, posing on a settee, “I’m afraid I must insist on being lit from the left. I think my left side is much more authoritative, don’t you, dear?” He turned to Nestor, eyebrows up.

  “I love the left and the right,” Nestor replied, taking Bryce’s hand and kissing it.

  Ballard laughed, seeming delighted at the exchange. “No, I don’t need a video statement. In fact, don’t worry about making anything official. I only said that to scare him. He’s such a coward he’s probably in there trying not to shit the bed thinking about how much this could damage his career.”

  Bryce, a little crestfallen at not getting to play the wounded yet stylish victim on camera, was cheered by Ballard’s description of Rooster’s desperation. “I’m so glad we came to you, Mr. Ballard. You have saved us from the clutches of that horrible man.”
<
br />   “I rather think I saved him from you.” Ballard chuckled. “I took a gander at those knots—that’s some serious craftsmanship. No way he’s getting loose from that.”

  “Well, we try to strike a blow for justice where we can,” Bryce said modestly, as if he kept a superhero cape in his tasteful black clutch.

  “Rooster’s been needing to meet someone like you. He’s been out of control lately.” Ballard sighed and cast a look toward the back of the plane. “He’s not a bad guy, but he lets his dick do his thinking for him. And as large as it is, it’s still not all that smart.”

  “You’ve seen it?” Bryce asked, intrigued.

  “Who hasn’t? That guy finds more excuses to show off his junk than you could possibly imagine. We used to room together on layovers until I got tired of having him wave it in my face. He seemed to think that even though I’m married—to a woman, yet—I would make an exception for him because his dick is like a foot long. I don’t know how he managed to convince himself that everyone in the world wants it, but that’s how he lives his life. Or used to, now that you two came along. I’ve been hoping someone would stand up to him, but I’d kind of given up on it once the air-conditioning guys refused to make a complaint.”

  “We are so happy to be of service. And we are relieved that he won’t be allowed to continue putting people at risk.”

  Ballard looked at Bryce, his face serious. “That was it, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t wear a condom?”

  Bryce nodded.

  “That bastard. I figured that’s what was going on, but I had no proof—I’m not really the hide-in-the-closet-and-get-video kind of guy. But you took care of that for me, and now we can put an end to it.” Ballard stood. “Well, I think I’ve let him stew for long enough. I’ll go untie him and get him back in the cockpit. And don’t worry—I won’t let him out again. You’ll be safe.”

  “Thank you, you gallant man.”

  Ballard smiled. “Save it for Jake—that line might actually work on him.” He winked slyly and walked back toward the bedroom.

  Ballard was gone for a few minutes, during which time Bryce and Nestor could hear voices, low and serious, through the wall. Eventually they emerged, Rooster wearing his uniform and a very grim face, Ballard following close behind. When they reached the lounge, Rooster stopped and glared at Ballard before turning to Bryce and Nestor.