Take This Man

by Neil S. Plakcy

  Chance looked down at his bare cock sliding in and out of Tommy and he wondered how safe this was. Did Tommy play safely in prison? Did he ever take a chance and have unprotected sex? He could not have been celibate for five years. Tommy always wanted it several times a week, often needing it daily. He couldn’t go five years without it, could he?

  Chance himself had not been celibate. He never brought a man here, though. He wouldn’t infect their home with another man. He had kept his indiscretions to the back room of the leather bar or traded blow jobs through a glory hole at the adult book store. The release had eased his tension, yet the orgasms made him feel empty. He had often thought of Tommy when he came and it had made Chance miss him even more. He would lie in bed, staring up at the black ceiling, wishing he was in that prison cell with Tommy, then realizing he was in a cell of his own. His solitary life had become his prison. Now he had been paroled.

  He trusted Tommy though. After all he had done, after breaking into that old woman’s house and screaming at Chance in the courtroom that he wanted him dead, he still trusted him. Tommy wouldn’t risk his own life just to come.

  He pushed himself harder, deeper into Tommy, feeling the warm passage milk him. The channel churned and convulsed as he pounded Tommy’s prostate, bringing him closer and closer to his nut-busting end. “Fuck me, Chance,” Tommy groaned, his voice gurgling as the hot water sprayed over their backs, filled his mouth. He spat it out, ran his fingers over his eyes to clear the soap and water and stringy clumps of dark hair. He pressed his hands against the tub wall, pushed back. His ass gobbled more of Chance’s cock. He always wanted more, no matter how much Chance gave him. He was a greedy fuck and he fucked greedily.

  Chance grabbed Tommy’s dark hair, pulled it until his neck snapped back, head tilted at the ceiling. He leaned in and bit Tommy on the ear, feeling the skin pop as his eyetooth punctured the lobe. He could taste blood. Tommy yelped and shoved himself backward, slamming Chance into the wall. The hot and cold water dials slammed into his back, the showerhead raked his own head. Pain shot though Chance’s body like an explosion. Chance grunted and shoved Tommy hard. The two men tumbled and slipped on the slick tub floor and spilled out of the tub, bringing the plastic curtain with them.

  Chance had slipped from Tommy’s body. Tommy was on his back, the curtain spread out beneath him like the rubber sheet they had used for the water-sports games they had played on occasion. Chance climbed on top of him, pushed his legs up and shoved himself back inside Tommy again. He entered him without care or ceremony, just set the head against the wrinkled hole and shoved his way in. Tommy yelped, but didn’t pull away. He liked it like this. Hard, rough, angry.

  Chance held himself up with his arms locked at the elbows, hands on either side of Tommy’s head. He stared into Tommy’s eyes as he pounded away at him. There was light staring back at him. It was a warm glow, loving. It made Chance feel welcome, like the happy yaps of the puppy he had as a kid when he came home from school. This was home, the house surrounding them and the body engulfing him.

  He loved him more now than he had ever before. Tommy had come back to him, even though Chance didn’t think he would have returned if the roles were reversed. He didn’t think he could swallow his pride and admit he was wrong, like Tommy had.

  He was close now, so dangerously close to coming he turned his eyes from Tommy’s and filled his head with unpleasant images. He saw Tommy screaming for his blood in that courtroom five years ago. He saw the anger and pain of betrayal in his lover’s eyes directed at him. His erection began to wither. Chance shook the images from his mind, stared back down at those same eyes, filled with love and ecstasy for him now instead of hate. Everything came back to him harder and stronger.

  He needed Tommy to come before he could. He lifted his hand from the floor, slid it between them and took Tommy’s cock in his palm. He stroked it with the same rhythm he pumped Tommy’s ass, like a well-choreographed dance. Water dripped from Chance’s face, raining down on Tommy as they grunted, pushed and pulled at each other.

  It only took a few stokes before Tommy let go. He lifted his hips, bucked against Chance as he came. The hot wet splash shot up over his chest, arcing in the air with the force of five years of want. Chance caught some on his tongue as it flew between them, like a kid catching snowflakes. He swallowed it and wanted more. A gob fell on Tommy’s mouth, sealing his lips. Chance leaned in, lapped the come from his face as Tommy’s insides clamped down on him. It was all over for Chance. No man could take the pressure he was feeling and not lose control. He came with the same violence Tommy had. His entire body spasmed and he saw nothing but a hot white cloud and Tommy’s eyes floating in the mix. He collapsed on top of his lover as his balls continued to empty, filling Tommy to overflowing. He sat back, slowly pulled his cock out of the pulverized hole and watched as what seemed like gallons of his seed trickled out, pooled on the shower curtain.

  Tommy sat up, dipped his finger between his legs and pulled a thick gob of Chance’s come from the curtain. He popped the finger in his mouth. “I’ve missed that. You taste so good,” Tommy said and pulled another finger full from the wet plastic. He held it before Chance. Chance opened his mouth and let Tommy feed him.

  Tommy said, “Thank you for bringing me home again. I wasn’t myself for so long. Doing what I did just showed how far from myself I had gotten. You brought me back.”

  Chance stood, turned the water off in the shower, then picked Tommy up from the floor. He was heavier than before, but Chance carried him into the bedroom just the same. He gently set him on the bed. This time, they were not so forceful, not as hungry for an orgasm. Chance explored Tommy, touched him everywhere both with his hands and his tongue. He sucked the water from Tommy’s skin and traced the new tattoos with his fingers. He stared at his own name, the thick, black line running through it. Tommy glanced down at the altered tattoo, averted his eyes from Chance’s. “I’ll have it fixed,” Tommy said.

  “If you want,” Chance said and slipped himself inside Tommy again. He wasn’t rough. He didn’t pull Tommy’s hair or drill him like he was searching for oil, but slowly pushed back and forth inside him, letting the rush of his cockhead tickling Tommy’s prostate do all the work.

  Hours passed as the two men touched, kissed. Chance slowly rocked his hips, working his cock back and forth inside Tommy. “I love you,” Tommy moaned.

  Chance came, not with a hot flash explosion but a ripple like a pebble tossed in a lake. It seemed to go on forever. “I missed you,” Chance said once he could speak again and they held each other as sleep took them.

  Chance woke when he heard the front door open then close. He looked over at the other side of the bed, expecting to see Tommy had left. He was still there. His hair had dried to dark, standing spikes. The clock read 6:00 a.m. It had to be Bennie out there, ready to take him to Hardaway prison.

  Chance slipped out of the bed, donned the pair of underwear Tommy had removed from him before ushering him into the shower and quietly crept out to the kitchen. Bennie was leaning against the counter. He had a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. Another sat on the counter. “Good morning,” Bennie said. “Hungover?”

  “A little. Tommy came home last night. I got the dates wrong.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. We had a good night,” Chance said. He felt the smile splitting his face. It felt good to smile again. To be happy again.

  “That’s great,” Bennie replied and pulled Chance into his arms. Chance hugged him back, tightly. He could smell the fresh shampoo in Bennie’s hair. He didn’t want to let him go. He loved Bennie so much it often hurt. But he loved Tommy just as fiercely.

  No, he realized just then, he didn’t love Bennie the same way he loved Tommy. He had gone five years waiting for Tommy to get out of prison, barely even looking at another man the entire time. He had quickly forgiven Tommy for fucking their lives up, for the crime he had committed and the incarceration that followed. He ha
d been alone all that time waiting for Tommy to come home, not even sure if he would return to him.

  He was not sure if he would have done that for Bennie. He loved him, but it was not the same.

  Bennie pulled himself out of Chance’s arms. “Well, I guess we don’t have to drive to Hardaway now, do we?”

  “No. Thank you for getting me home last night.”

  “Anytime. Give Tommy my best. He’s a lucky man, you know that?”

  “Maybe I’m the lucky one,” Chance said, knowing it was true.

  Bennie left and Chance went back to the bedroom. He climbed in the bed, curled himself around Tommy, felt his steady breathing and regular heartbeat thumping in his chest. Tommy moaned, rolled over. His head rested on Chance’s chest. Chance wrapped his arm around him, hugged him even closer. He buried his face in Tommy’s hair, kissed the top of his head. Tommy was out of prison; Chance’s unwanted freedom was gone.

  Finally, after five years, they had both come home.

  A RIDE HOME

  Brent Archer

  1992

  Bryant Thalman stepped off the bus, pulse racing as his anxiety skyrocketed. He checked his watch. Shit. Twenty minutes late. Damned buses. I’ll never get the system down. He took in his surroundings in the unfamiliar neighborhood. The low brick buildings all looked the same. One story, large windows, and all attached to the next. Searching each one for its number, he sighed in relief at the blue awning with large white letters on it a block away—DANCE ON CAPITOL HILL.

  So that’s what they meant by “The DOCH” when they sent the rehearsal invitation. He hurried across the street and down the block, opening the glass double doors and peering in as his eyes adjusted from the bright sunshine outside. To his right, a tiled hallway led to a small sandwich shop. Music floated up the stairs in front of him, so he descended to the lower level and found locker room doors next to two dance studios.

  Change and bathroom break before dancing. He pulled open the door.

  Bryant’s jaw dropped at the sight that met him. A tall dark-haired man faced away from him with fingers hooked into rapidly descending jeans and underwear. A taut ass dusted with dark curly hair spread in front of him. His eyes grew wide as saucers and fiery heat rose in his cheeks.

  The undressing dancer jumped, apparently realizing the door had opened. He spun to face Bryant with his eyes wide, face red and hands covering his cock. “Oh, sorry, I’m just changing into my jock.”

  Their eyes locked and Bryant’s chest tightened. Warmth spread across his body. He’d never in his eighteen years experienced this feeling. The lean athletic dancer before him had full lips and eyes the color of his green T-shirt. A tuft of curly dark hair peeked over his collar, and a dark thatch of hair poked out from under his hands and led to long muscular legs.

  He grinned. “Mind closing the door? There’s a bit of a draft.”

  Bryant snapped out of his daze as his eyes again swept over the hunk in front of him. “Oh, sorry. You just took me by surprise.” He pulled the door shut and then scurried over to an open stall. Slamming the door shut before the stud could see the erection rising in his jeans, the flustered teen stood with his back against the stall door. Whoa, what a stud. He took a couple of deep breaths to slow his racing heart and opened his dance bag, pulling out a pair of black shorts and a tan T-shirt.

  The door to the locker room banged shut as Bryant changed his clothes. He cracked open the stall door and peeked into an empty room. Shrugging his shoulders as disappointment settled over him, he stepped out of the stall. Probably in the other studio. I’m so late I can’t imagine he’s one of the dancers in my group. He left the locker room and took a deep breath as he walked into the rehearsal.

  The only familiar face was Tony from the audition a couple of months prior. Older, with long blond hair and piercing green eyes, he greeted him warmly. “Bryant, so glad you made it.”

  “Sorry, I’m trying to figure out the buses and missed the first one.”

  Tony’s hand clasped Bryant’s shoulder with a strength that made the young man wince. “No problem. Let’s get started.” Tony introduced him around. Bryant’s smiled faded a bit when he didn’t see the handsome stranger from the locker room amongst the dancers.

  They partnered up, and the lines started moving. The tall sweet woman, Anne, took his hand and placed hers on his shoulder. “I’m glad to meet you. Looking forward to performing with you.”

  “Thanks. I think this’ll be a fun diversion from my studies.”

  He concentrated on the moves until suddenly the sexy stud from earlier danced across the floor in front of him. Bryant’s breath caught in his throat as he tripped over his feet. His partner grabbed his arm.

  “Sorry, Anne, I lost my concentration for a second. I’m not usually so klutzy.”

  “No problem.” She glanced over his shoulder and gave him a smirk. “There are a few distractions for your dancing as well as your studies in this studio.”

  Heat rose again in his cheeks as he spun her around the floor. Concentrate on the dancing, not on your dick. Geez.

  Over the next hour, Bryant struggled to keep up with the rest of the group. The dance moves were unlike any he’d attempted before, and he dripped with sweat. The stolen glances at the hot stud from the locker room didn’t help the heat flowing through his body. Between choreographies, the overheated teen gawked as the older hunk bent over to stretch his legs. Bryant dropped to the floor and reached his arms for his outstretched legs to hide the erection pushing against his shorts. He’d have to figure out how to make his cock behave during rehearsals.

  At the break, the object of his desire approached Bryant. “Hi, I’m Alan.” He put out his hand. Bryant grasped it and the sizzling touch sent a shot of lust through his arm and down to his crotch.

  “Bryant,” he croaked. He held Alan’s hand, mesmerized by his green eyes.

  Alan smiled. “I’m gonna need that back before we start up again.”

  Bryant relaxed his grip and Alan withdrew his hand. “Sorry. You weren’t here when Tony introduced me to everyone.”

  “Yeah, I had to run back to the truck. I left my dance shoes out there.”

  On the other side of the studio, Tony clapped his hands together. “Okay, break’s over. Let’s run the last routine again.”

  The sexy stud turned back to him with a wink. “No rest for the wicked.”

  Bryant melted as Alan turned away to take a sip from his water bottle. Another view of that luscious ass sent the hot and bothered young man into overdrive as he willed away his erection.

  They rehearsed for another two hours. Each glance at Alan sent shivers up his spine and jolts of erotic energy into his cock. Finally he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Stop looking at him, or you’re gonna pop a boner and humiliate yourself.

  At the end of the afternoon, the exhausted teen flopped down onto the bench by the door, panting. Four-hour dance rehearsals. What was I thinking joining this company? He checked his watch as his stomach grumbled. Great, another hour before the bus, and then forty-five minutes more until I get to eat crappy dorm food.

  Alan sat down next to him. “You looked great out there. Have you performed before?”

  His heart raced again. “Yeah, I danced in high school, and now that I’m at university, I want to continue. That’s why I auditioned for the group. I’m not sure I’m cut out for the long rehearsals, though.”

  “What? You did great out there. It just takes some getting used to. You’ll be fine.”

  Bryant glanced at him, and then turned away. “That’s nice of you to say, thanks.”

  They were quiet for a moment as Bryant played with his fingers, nerves preventing him from starting another conversation.

  Alan turned to him. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. I usually use one of the stalls, but being late, I just dropped my pants. I’m sure you didn’t want to see my hairy ass when you opened the door.”

  Heat rose into Bryant’s cheeks. “It’s fine.�
��

  Alan arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh really? Well, thank you.”

  Heat surged from Bryant’s cheeks to his toes. Suddenly the room got a lot smaller, and he glanced at the door as he stood and spluttered his response. “Uh, I’d better get going to the bus stop.”

  “When’s the next one?”

  Bryant looked at his watch and sighed, sitting on the bench again. “Forty-five minutes.”

  Alan stood and extended his hand. “How about you come to dinner with me and then I’ll take you home. You’re at the U, right?”

  “Yup.” Anywhere this handsome guy wanted to take him had to have better food than the dorm. Besides, a better opportunity to get to know Alan probably wouldn’t present itself. “You don’t mind that I’m a sweaty mess?”

  “I don’t mind if you don’t. I’m a bit of a mess myself. I know a great pizza place that won’t care.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, it’s on my way.”

  Decision made, Bryant smiled, flushing with warmth and pleasure. He took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. Sparks of desire flew between them as they made contact. “I’d like that a lot.”

  1997

  “What the hell do you mean you promoted him?” Bryant’s boss Llewellyn Fiske pushed his massive frame across the room, passing Bryant’s desk with an angry glare. He strode into his office and slammed the door, the artwork on the wall shuddering as the crash sounded throughout the office.

  Bryant hung his head. Fuck, why did I put in for that promotion?

  Jeri, the executive assistant to all the lawyers on their floor, hurried to Bryant’s desk. “I’m so sorry. Not exactly the way you wanted to celebrate. I think it’s great you are moving up.”