by Lou Harper
“So you met this Jeff in St. Louis?”
“Yeah, I spotted him at the coffee shop,” Jay huffed out just as denim hit the carpet. Despite everything, he couldn’t help having a tinge of nostalgia thinking of that day. “He had a goatee, hair thinning on top, reading glasses slipped down on his nose. I was smitten.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Sam said, mocking.
“He looked so very distinguished and self-confident. You know, like somebody who knows who he is,” Jay said defensively. “I thought he was a professor.”
“Was he?”
“No. Antique dealer.”
“Nice catch, eh?”
“Oh yeah. I flirted, he stayed till the end of my shift, and took me back to his place. The next week I moved in,” Jay said, focusing on the pleasant memories.
“Quite a little gold digger, aren’t you?”
“Hey! I really liked him. I didn’t even mind how fussy he was in bed.”
“Fussy?”
“Uh-huh. In the bathroom he had one of those self-enema shower attachments. I had to be clean as a whistle inside and out before he’d stick his dick in me, even with a condom.”
“That is fussy.”
“That’s not all,” Jay chuckled. “I had to wax my privates every three weeks.”
When Sam laughed, Jay gave him a shove and what he hoped was a suitably angry scowl. Sam didn’t look cowed—he just rolled to his back, bringing Jay with him, till Jay sat across Sam’s hips.
“Don’t laugh if you’ve never had hot wax in the crack of your ass.” Jay glowered some more.
Sam visibly bit back another laugh. “Sounds…hot.”
“It was, sort of…” As his pelvis made a little involuntary twitch, Jay thought he caught a strange glint in Sam’s eyes.
Sam laid his hands back on Jay’s legs and just let them lie there, thumbs resting on the soft flesh of Jay’s inner thighs, just a whisper away from the hem of the sky-blue Jockey shorts. Jay had picked them to match his eyes. He knew how the soft cotton outlined the contours of his cock—half-hard, half-soft, not half-eager.
“So what happened?” Sam asked. His voice was even despite the swollen dick Jay could feel trapped under his buttocks.
“One day, after two years, he kicked me out,” Jay replied, sticking to the barest minimum of facts.
“Just like that?”
“He said it’d been fun, but he’d met someone else.”
“Asshole.”
Sam’s matter-of-fact assessment gave Jay the strength to reveal the part of the whole stupid affair that pissed him off the most. “I found out later that he got himself a new twink every couple of years. I felt like such an idiot.” The hurt and bitterness he’d been trying to shut out was pounding on his heart. Jeff wasn’t his first disappointment, or the last, only the deepest one.
“I’m sorry.”
Jay gave a sharp shrug. “Whatever. At least I got my pubes back.”
“I like your pubes,” Sam said, and he seemed to mean it.
“Oh yeah?” Jay turned back to the present and the warm body underneath him.
“Yeah. I like the way they tease.” Sam ran his thumb along the edge of the waistband of those Jockeys, just where wayward hairs were poking out. He dipped his hand inside, burying fingers into their thicket, freeing Jay’s hardening cock in the process. “I like their tight curls,” he went on, deep and husky. “I like the way they cover your balls,” he said as his fingers slipped farther down and back. “I like the way they surround your tight, dirty little hole.” His fingers rubbed and probed. Jay lifted his hips to make room as Sam drew his legs up for support.
Sam tugged the Jockeys down a little and took Jay’s cock into his free hand. His confident, firm grip around Jay’s shaft felt amazingly good. Jay stared down at himself and the glistening dewdrop of precome on the tip of his cock. He watched Sam swiping his thumb over the head, smearing it around, making him shiver. Sam stroked Jay’s cock lazily, twisting his palm over the flushed pink crown, drawing soft gasps out of Jay in the process. He grunted in protest when Sam’s hands withdrew.
“Get ’em off,” Sam said, pulling at the hem of the Jockeys.
While Jay did that, Sam dug a small tube out of his front pocket—it was one of those petroleum jelly lip balms, unflavored, of course. Otherwise Sam didn’t change position or shed any of his clothing. Jay wanted to unwrap the other man, to bury his face in Sam’s thick chest hair, but a firm voice stopped him. “Come back.”
So Jay resumed his spot straddling Sam’s hips. Sam squeezed most of the contents of the little tube on his fingers before returning them to Jay’s cock and ass. It was thicker and greasier than regular lube and it somehow felt more lewd, more dirty. As Jay knelt over him, Sam’s fingers finally breached Jay’s ass, sending pangs of pleasure up and down his spine. Jay undulated his hips between Sam’s skilled hands—one ministering to his cock, and the other one finger-fucking him with pitiless expertise. When Jay came, it was trapped between those hands.
Most of his jizz splattered on Sam’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind the mess. Even boneless and spent, Jay hadn’t forgotten about his obligations. His hand trailed to the hard bulge in Sam’s jeans, but it was brushed away.
“You haven’t…” Jay started to protest.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I could…”
“I said don’t worry about it. It’ll keep.”
After cleaning up, they went to lunch. They wandered around the old town, playing tourists, went to the movies and had dinner. It was all oddly low-key, except when Sam pulled him into a secondhand boutique. It was a black leather motorcycle jacket that had drawn his attention. He made Jay try it on. It was a decent fit, only slightly too wide at the shoulders. There were zippers and buckles, and leather soft from wear, but Jay was more impressed by Sam’s reaction than the jacket itself. Sam very obviously liked Jay in it. They bought it.
The club was better than Jay expected, the DJ was pretty decent, and the crowd pulsing under the loud thump of music could have been anywhere. Too soon Sam left the dance floor for the bar. Sam asked for a beer, but Jay wanted something stronger. His screwdriver wasn’t watered down—another point for the joint. Jay ended up going back to the dance floor by himself, Sam opting for watching him with an indulgent smile from the bar. Jay let go, let the rhythm carry him. There were others around him, men, women, writhing flesh, flirting, touching, heaving with wanton abandon, when from the midst of it, Jay glimpsed at the bar to see Sam in conversation with another man. They leaned close to each other to be heard, but there was plenty more said by the body language of the stranger. Well, Jay knew just how to shut it up. He marched off the floor.
“Sam, is this man bothering you?” Jay said in a seemingly serious tone that made Sam swallow his beer the wrong way.
The other guy, who was ripped enough to kick Jay’s ass, was clearly contemplating just that, but Sam, still coughing, put an arm around Jay’s waist. The guy gave them one last pissy look and sauntered away.
“Tiger, you have to warn me before you say shit like that.”
“What would be the fun in that? Come dance with me. You’re too hunky to be left unguarded.”
Sam let himself be dragged into the crowd. Once he let go, Sam was quite a treat on the dance floor, his powerful body moving with unexpected ease.
Jay had no idea what time they got back to the hotel—he was totally hammered. That didn’t stop him from trying to get into Sam’s pants. Nothing came of it though. Sam went off to the bathroom to get a glass of water, and that’s the last thing Jay remembered.
When he woke up, his mouth felt like a dirty gym sock. His head was worse. That asshole Sam looked all chipper and fit. Jay wanted to punch him but lacked the strength.
“C’mon, Lazy Bones, rise and shine!” Sam yammered, entirely too loud.
“Stop shouting,” Jay rasped.
Against his protestations, Sam forced a couple of aspirins into h
im, hauled him off the bed and into the bathroom.
Forty-five minutes later, clean, dressed, but still feeling like a half-cracked egg, Jay sat in a booth at Danny’s, watching with nausea as Sam put away his hearty breakfast. Jay poked at his pancakes without much appetite, abandoning them in favor of coffee. He eyed Sam, who looked far too complacent for someone who didn’t get off the day before.
“So, Tiger…” Sam spoke with that I’ve-got-a-plan voice. “Have you thought of a safe word yet?”
Jay nearly dropped the cup he was nursing.
“Huh?”
“Safe word,” Sam repeated slowly, like talking to a child. It was fun yanking Jay’s chains. Figuratively speaking.
He’d made up his mind the moment Jay turned down his offer for a quick getaway. Jay’s responses to Sam pushing had been promising even before, but something had crackled in the air at that moment, and it had told Sam he could push much further. He figured he had a month, maybe two, before Jay would get bored or restless and take off. Time enough to have some fun, and he had ways to keep the boredom away. Most of the stuff he’d picked up at Walmart—ropes, zip-ties—were on the list Bill had given him, supplies for Jay’s training, but they had dual use, so he’d gotten extra. Other things he’d have to get online.
And another thing—condoms were all well and good, but it was even nicer without. Fortunately, these days you could get tested for everything you needed in a day. He might have to shut the diner down for a day to get them both tested somewhere far enough away from Coldwater, but so fucking what?
Sam felt a slow-burning arousal just thinking about the things he wanted to do, the way he wanted to push Jay to see how far he’d go. He hadn’t done this since… Well, there was no point thinking about that. First things first though, they needed ground rules, and Jay, who looked at him with that intriguing mix of bewilderment and anticipation, needed a safe word.
“How about ‘No, stop!’?” Jay asked, keeping his tone light, but the iron grip on his coffee cup gave him away.
Sam shook his head. “Nah, people don’t always mean it in these games. It has to be something different, something out of context.”
“Games?” Jay stared at him and blinked a few times.
“Yeah, we’ve already been playing, really. There’s so much more we could do. It’s up to you. We can go on as before, or we can try some new things. We can stop at any point. You just have to say The Word,” Sam said with emphasis.
Jay was staring at him, and Sam could tell the wheels were turning.
“Porcupine!” Jay said at last.
Chapter Five
NT: What you got?
SR: I found somebody who spent time with your friend after his…indiscretion.
NT: Can we lean on him?
SR: Not a good idea; he’s government employee. I can get close to him; he has a drinking problem.
It had been almost a month since their first trip to Butte, and Sam was in danger of growing complacent. From time to time he had to remind himself that it was all temporary. Jay hadn’t developed a fondness for small-town living, and occasionally needled him about it. Clearly it was only a question of time before Jay’d have had enough and moved on. Sam had better spend their time wisely.
Bill reported Jay was a quick learner, and even becoming more disciplined as of late. Sam hoped to take credit for the latter. Bill also complimented Jay’s agility and limberness—two qualities Sam appreciated very much himself. All in all, things were going as well as they could. Jay would be less of a babe in the woods when he left—although that image of innocence didn’t much fit him to begin with.
There was one lesson Sam had avoided so far, but couldn’t put off any longer. That’s why they were bouncing along bumpy dirt roads with a bagful of recyclables in the truck bed.
He finally stopped by a long-disused ranch. The field was overgrown with weeds, but the fence posts and the half-rotten gate still stood. Sam lined the beer and soda cans on the gate then pulled a small case out of the glove compartment. Jay’s eyes went wide when Sam unpacked the bag’s contents.
“Have you ever handled a handgun?” Sam asked.
Jay shook his head, uncharacteristically quiet.
Sam first explained about safety. “Don’t ever point a gun at anyone, unless you’re prepared to pull the trigger. Guns are not toys. Don’t aim it at another person, even if you know it’s unloaded. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Jay replied, hands in pockets, not looking like he wanted to aim any gun at anything.
He was glad Jay wasn’t one of those idiots who thought holding a pistol made you a hotshot. They were sleek and deadly, and downright sexy as such, but only a fool would let himself be seduced by them. However, it was also important to make Jay feel comfortable with them. So next he demonstrated loading and unloading, checking the barrel, taking the safety off, aiming. Jay paid attention, but with no big enthusiasm.
He had two Rugers with him, the LCP and the LCR—a pistol and a revolver—so he could show Jay how to use each. Both guns were small and lightweight, easy to conceal, and that was the reason he had them in the first place. He preferred, or at least used to prefer, heftier weapons, if for no other reason than the impression they made. More times than not all you had to do was to flash a big-ass gun around to make the other guy behave sensibly. However, in his current situation he had to consider practicality. On the plus side, they were less intimidating to Jay.
“You all right, Tiger?”
“Yeah fine, I just don’t like guns. There was a kid on our street who had a BB gun. He used to shoot birds and cats. He was just freaky, you know?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know the type. I don’t want you to like guns, just know how to use them. Now pay attention.”
Sam picked up and loaded the pistol. He kept talking to Jay in a soft, even tone while he shot all seven rounds. They all hit and made the cans fly in an impressive way, but from such short distance it wasn’t much of an achievement.
After replacing the cans, it was Jay’s turn. He was lousy—he held the pistol as if it might bite him, closed his eyes the moment he pulled the trigger. It was a mess. Sam took the gun from Jay and reloaded it, but instead of giving it back, he laid it on the hood of the truck.
“Close your eyes,” Sam said.
He turned Jay toward the targets while molding himself to Jay’s back, holding him firmly around the waist.
“Take a deep breath. Let it out,” he murmured into Jay’s ear. “I’m here, I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong.” His hand slipped below Jay’s belt. The light teasing touch got Jay’s attention. His breathing deepened and he leaned back into Sam. “If you’re good, we’ll play something new tonight,” he continued with the same soft murmur.
“What?”
“It’s a surprise. Remember the package the UPS man brought yesterday? It’s full of things for me to try out on you. You’ll like them, I promise.”
When Jay let out a tiny whimper, Sam reached behind himself and picked up the pistol.
“Open your eyes.” He put the gun in Jay’s hand. “Breathe. Aim. Shoot.”
After that things went much smoother. Jay would never be a sharpshooter, but he didn’t have to be.
Jay was so beautifully responsive. Even though their time together was limited, Sam had gone slow with him. It was too sweet not to savor it. Also, Sam knew he was too out of practice to do any of the serious stuff. It would have been irresponsible on his part. No matter, the journey itself was more important than the destination. It would’ve been a sin to hurry.
So far it’d been mostly ropes and cuffs, and a bit of spanking. Jay had exhibited a natural receptiveness both for being restrained, and a little pain. Tonight they would have a little bit of both, although the restraint was mostly symbolic. The chunky leather cuffs on Jay’s wrists had metal hoops through which thick rope twined, in turn fastened to the rungs of the headboard. However, the cuffs locked with clasps that needed only a strong tug to und
o, and Sam made sure the ropes weren’t in the way. It was the safest for what he’d planned. The blindfold covering Jay’s eyes was to heighten the suspense. It worked—Jay couldn’t keep himself still.
“Stop fidgeting,” Sam reprimanded him.
“I can’t help it. It’s like Christmas.”
Sam laughed. “It’d be just like you to do something dirty with Santa.”
“Now that you mention it—”
“Shush. You need to learn patience. One of these days I’ll tie you up and leave you there for hours.”
Jay groaned and made a visible effort to stay still.
Sam had laid an old blanket on the bed and over it a dark blue bedspread. Some people liked to use shower curtains or something similar, but Sam found the combination of naked body and plastic creepy. Bad associations. He made the necessary preparation—a painter’s drop cloth on the floor, the coffee table from the living room covered with extra-wide aluminum foil, a cooler next to it, a damp cloth. Jay’s iPod was hooked up to the speakers and was playing Jay’s “Slow & Sexy” playlist. Sam set out his “tools”.
Once everything was prepped and ready, Sam poured a small amount of baby oil over Jay’s sternum and rubbed it over his chest and stomach. Those parts of Jay were almost completely hairless. There were a few stray strands around his nipples and a thin golden line leading from his belly button to the nest of thick curls of his groin. Jay’s cock reacted to Sam’s touch with its customary enthusiasm. Sam gave it a few slow strokes then left it alone. He ran his oily hands over his own forearms before wiping them off with a wet cloth.
“You ready, Tiger?”
Jay swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”
Sam picked up the first candle. It was a thick, tall, purple one. There was a pool of melted wax around the wick. Sam tilted the candle and let a few drops fall on Jay’s sternum. He watched Jay’s reaction attentively. Of course, he knew how it felt, he’d tried it on himself before, tested these candles specifically, but everyone was different. People with low body fat, like Jay, often reacted to the sensation more keenly. Jay’s lips parted and he sucked air in like an inward sigh. His body arched in a small wave, then settled down. Sam tilted the candle again, this time pouring out a small stream of wax. It landed on the left side of Jay’s chest and ran down along his ribs. Jay’s reaction was the same as before, just a little more pronounced. Judging from the slight twitches of his cock, Jay was enjoying himself. Satisfied with the results, Sam picked up a red candle with his free hand.