Collin snorts. “Just hurry up, shithead."
Josh flips him off before grabbing his coat and shoes. As he's leaving, he turns to me and says, “The room's paid up ‘til Monday morning, Carl. Do stay. I'll try to get back before then."
"Well, that's not too fuckin’ likely, is it?” Collin says, shoving Josh through the door. The goons follow.
I'm left naked and alone, the entire altercation having lasted less than two minutes. I fall back on the rumpled bed. It smells like Josh: his sweat, his cologne, his salty come. I turn my face into the sheet, smiling. ‘The room's paid up ‘til Monday morning,’ he'd said.
Guess he didn't plan for us to be a one-night stand after all.
* * * *
Eight days. It's been eight fucking days and Josh still hasn't shown up at school. Yesterday, in desperation, I called the Senator's office. When I gave his assistant my name, the bitch hung up on me. I guess Senator Camden is very aware of who his son was banging in that hotel room.
Yep. That's me. Carl Ruiz, janitor extraordinaire, making friends in high places and influencing people all over the damn place.
I've talked to everyone I can think of. His friends. His profs. If anyone knows anything, they're not sharing.
Tonight's the night, I think as I unlock my front door. Tonight I'm going to break into Josh's dorm room. The senator's home number has to be in there somewhere. I won't snoop, just get the number and get out. I won't have time to snoop, because if I'm caught I'll be fired on the fucking spot.
Of course, even as I tell myself this, I know I'm lying. I'll snoop.
As soon as I shut the door behind me, I realize I'm not alone in the dark apartment. I'm not sure, at first, what clues me in. My cock notices the faint waft of his cologne before I do. It rises, as if to sniff the air. A half-second later my nose does the same. Musk and pepper. I start grinning like an idiot.
"Josh?"
No answer.
I flick on a lamp. The soft pool of light shows my worn tweed sofa and a coffee table in serious need of dusting.
No Josh.
I look toward my bedroom. The door's open, but the bulb's power doesn't reach that far. It's a beckoning black hole.
"Josh?” I call again. “Come clean, man. I know you're here."
"Tsk."
The annoyed sound comes from the vicinity of my bed. My grin grows impossibly wider.
"You're seriously fucking up my surprise, Carl,” he says. “Would you just get in here?"
I strip off my coat and toe off my shoes as I walk toward him. My restraint is heroic; I want to run. “Where the hell have you been?"
"All shall be revealed,” he says in a low, trying-to-be-mysterious voice.
I slap the light switch on.
The beautiful bugger is lying spread-eagle in the center of my bed. He's wearing a Westenvale jacket—much too big for him—and nothing else. A manila envelope is balanced precariously on top of his penis.
"So reveal already.” I lean against the doorjamb, thumbs tucked in my belt loops. “Lose the jacket, sweetheart. It doesn't fit."
"It wouldn't. It's yours."
My gaze flicks to the closet. I can't find it in my heart to be angry. In a few hours, I was planning to rifle his stuff and, anyway, I feel too darn cheerful to be mad.
He bumps his hips up and down. The envelope tilts, threatens to dislodge, but then settles back into place.
I reach his side in two quick strides, swing a leg over his narrow hips, and pluck off the stupid yellow paper. When I go to toss it behind me, Josh grabs my wrist. “Read it."
"Later."
He scoots his bum back and sits up against the headboard. The shoulders of my old school jacket droop halfway down his arms. He looks so innocent with those big green eyes and that tousled auburn hair.
I'm not fooled for a second.
I tear the envelope open, anxious to be done with whatever shit this is so I can get down to despoiling my boy's nonexistent virtue, and scan the first sheet. It's not until I'm about two-thirds of the way down that I realize what I'm looking at.
"What the hell?” I whisper, flipping to the next page. “Josh, there's no way. I can't possibly—"
He covers my hand with his own. “Of course you can."
I let the scholarship papers drop. “But how? Why?"
He shrugs. My jacket slips off his shoulder. One petite pink nipple flashes me. “Dad's donated so much money to Westenvale, I don't think they'd dare say no to him. As for why—because I could, I guess. See, Dad's thinking of running for president in a few years.” Another shrug. More sleek white skin revealed. My hands twitch with the need to touch.
"I've agreed to stay under the radar,” he goes on, oblivious. “Play it cool. But my cooperation had a price."
That catches my attention. “A price?"
"Yes.” Josh takes the sheaf from my lax hand and tosses it to the floor. “You."
He leans in to nuzzle my throat. “So, no more taking strange, beautiful men to expensive hotel rooms and boinking their brains out—even though you're the only strange and beautiful man I've ever done that with."
My heartbeat quickens at this casual admission. Josh's voice drops to a gruff, southern baritone. “'And for God's sake, Joshua, if you get caught on tape again I will kill you,'” he says, doing an eerie imitation of his father's voice. He chuckles and nips at my earlobe. “I managed to make a copy of the elevator tape before he destroyed it, though.” Josh's voice is his own again, husky, low, and sexy as hell. “I've jacked off to it every night."
It's hard to untangle my thoughts, especially with his tongue swirling around my ear. “Yeah, but...” I groan and push him away. “But why—"
"Christ, Carl, I don't know why, okay?” He sits back and scrapes a hand through his hair. “Because I think you're the sexiest man I've ever met, maybe? Or perhaps because you have a great smile and I want to see a lot more of it! I want to be the goddamn reason for it!"
Both hands are in his hair, now. “Or maybe because I think you should be using that big brain of yours for more than deciding which industrial strength cleaner to use today.” His voice has grown strident, his face red. In that second, I realize I might be falling for the little bastard. “For lots of damn reasons, okay? Because I fucking could, like I said."
Another pass through his already thoroughly disheveled hair. God, he's so cute. “Take the fucking scholarship, Carl!” Josh shouts. “No strings attached. Okay?"
I take his hand, kiss the palm, and press it against the erection he's roused.
"Okay?” he asks again, softer, as his long, fine fingers curve around my cock.
"No strings at all?” I ask, grinding into his palm. “Not even a few wet, sticky, white ones?"
I see Josh fight to keep the smirk off his face. He loses.
"Well, maybe a few of those. If you're lucky."
"I'm feeling pretty lucky” I take his beautiful face between my hands and press a kiss to his gorgeous, cocksucker lips.
Josh's fingers tangle in my hair. He kisses me back with a passion bordering on desperation. My heart pauses, does a little flip, and I realize it's true. I do feel lucky.
In fact, at this very moment, I do believe I'm the luckiest man in the whole damn world.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Forever
by William Holden
"Of course I will love you forever,” I whispered only yesterday to Tony as my cold lips brushed against his ear. How different ‘forever’ sounded to the two of us. The tone in his voice chilled my thoughts when I realized what he was asking me to do.
I hope he understands my refusal to make him like me. My decision has nothing to do with our love. There is nothing that would have made me happier than to spend forever not growing old with him. The joy I can now only imagine. I want to give him what he has asked for, but I cannot do to him what was so violently done to me.
* * * *
I was born in London. The year was
1719 and I had just finished celebrating my twenty-seventh birthday with some friends. The quantity of spirits we were consuming helped keep us going against the cold November air. I was the only bachelor in the group, but that was fine with me. I knew I was different. I knew I lusted after men, about which we didn't speak then. I had heard about ‘Molly houses’ where men could go to be with other men. However I never seemed to have enough courage to walk into such an establishment by myself. At twenty-seven I was still a virgin.
After my friends dropped me off at my flat, I decided it was time. I felt alive for the first time in my life, and I knew instinctively that that night was the night I would experience the pure, raw power of another man's love.
The bells had long ago sounded midnight when I arrived at the pub in a small crowded area off Compton Street. I paused just outside the door. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I opened the door and stepped inside. Suddenly, it seemed as if the world stopped. Heads turned in my direction, looking at the stranger standing in the doorway. The excitement grew in my breeches, tingling through every hair on my body. I lit up a small pipe, took a long, deep draw and exhaled before making my way to an empty stool by the bar.
The short, pudgy man behind the bar greeted me immediately—and perhaps impertinently. He looked young, not a wrinkle on his face. He wore a clean white shirt and black breeches. He smiled at me as if he could read my mind.
"Your best gin, my good man,” I said even before he asked me. He smiled and poured the drink.
"Haven't spied you here before, m'lord.” He set the bottle down next to my glass. “Are you but recently come to the city?"
"Born and raised here, my good man.” I finished the small serving off in one gulp and gestured for another. The gin warmed my body and calmed my nerves. I rekindled my pipe as the bartender left. I turned in my seat to take in the sights around me. The lighting was dim, and the billowing smoke made it difficult to see. I hadn't learned any of the signs or signals by which men let other men know of their purpose. So I resolved to face the bar and keep to myself. I was too much a novice to make advances.
I was on my third drink and deep in thoughts of leaving when someone came to sit beside me. I tilted my head to the left and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He sat there, swirling his drink calmly, then turned to look at me. His eyes were pitch black but surrounded by the purest white I had ever seen. His face was smooth except for a small scar upon his right cheek. His long, wavy hair hung loosely about his face.
"I do not know you, sir.” He spoke quietly, the accent German. “I am known to my intimates as Stephan.” He reached and took my hand in his.
"Are we intimate, then, sir?” His hand was cold. “I am known as Alex."
"So, Alex.” He smiled at the indiscretion. “What wind blew you here tonight?” He moved in a little closer to me. “You appear to be lost at sea."
I started to reply, but I lost my words. His hand was on my leg. I looked down in my lap and watched his fingers trace my thigh. The tingling returned to my loins. I could feel myself growing firmer, thicker behind my linens. He noticed the movement and then moved one of his fingers over the bulge in my breeches. A small moan escaped my lips. I reddened with shame.
He laughed. “You have never done this before have you?” His finger made small little circles over my firmness.
"No."
"Surely it is time.” He removed his hand from my lap and finished his drink. He stood up. “Will you accompany me, sir?"
I didn't move at first, but then stood to face him. Our eyes met. I could feel his breath on my face. His scent invaded me. It was potent and unfamiliar. Lilac water, perhaps, and a mixture of beer, a man's odor and then ... something metallic. It called to something in me I didn't know existed. There was nothing else I wanted more in the world than to surrender my body to this stranger. We left the pub together.
"My rooms lie near at hand.” Stephan broke the silence that had fallen between us. “We can walk there, if you are agreeable."
"Indeed we can.” I began to feel a bit uneasy. What would be expected of me upon our arrival? He seemed well versed in the art of hunting men. I hoped my inexperience would not repel him.
Within a few minutes we arrived at a surprisingly elegant building. The servants seemed to have gone to sleep. He opened the door himself and escorted me in.
He quickly shut and locked the door behind us. His rooms were more generous than most in this part of London and well appointed. Numerous candles lit tapestries, paintings, and a harpsichord lacquered in deepest red. But my attention was diverted from our surroundings when he walked to me and put his arms around my waist.
Stephan was taller than I by as much as a head. His dark, piercing eyes looked at me. No, that's not quite how it was. They looked into me. I could feel his desire press against me.
"You tremble,” Stephan whispered. “Here maybe this will help.” He leaned down to draw my lips to his. Sudden warmth rushed through me the instant our lips met. My knees felt unstrung as the kiss lingered. He pulled away as gently and as quickly as he had commenced. His finger traced my lips. They quivered.
He removed his waistcoat. I stood transfixed. He removed his shoes and began to loosen his breeches. “Will you not join me?"
He undid the buttons and dropped the garment to the floor. I continued to stare as if frozen by the sight of him undressing before me. Beneath his immaculate shirt, his torso was smooth and hairless. He stepped out of his breeches, leaving his body exposed except for his innermost linen. I could tell his sex was large and heavy by the way it fell against the thin material. He walked to me and pushed my coat off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
"Touch me,” he said and brought my hand to his chest. My fingers trembled as they grazed skin. The softness of his body astonished me. I never knew a man's skin could be so soft. My finger brushed his left nipple. He smiled at my apparent nervousness.
I began to feel like I didn't exist in that time or place, as if I were watching us from above. I wasn't there, yet every touch, every word spoken I could both feel and hear. I closed my eyes and felt his lips against my neck, his tongue licking the salt of my skin. I reached down to feel my swollen nature. I didn't recognize its size.
"Your body delights me,” Stephan whispered in my ear as he pulled my shirt open. He kissed my chin, and then my throat as he began a descent. I felt his tongue running through the hair on my chest, matting it to my skin with his spit. My breathing turned to gasps as he continued to move downward. I grabbed his head with my hands to steady myself as his tongue reached the end of my shirt and the beginning of my breeches. His hands slid back up my chest and pushed my shirt off my shoulders. He stood upright and kissed me. I wanted more, but didn't know if I could go on. He mesmerized me with his beauty and gentleness.
We stood facing each other in nothing but the flimsiest linen. He picked me up as if I weighed not more than a few pounds and carried me to his bed. He stood and removed the last of his garments, and then he leaned down without a word and removed mine.
He crawled on top of me, our bodies not quite touching. I could feel his sex against my skin as he lowered himself onto me. Our bodies pressed tightly together. He raised my legs and moved them over his shoulders. My heart jumped with his movements as he settled himself between my legs. I could feel his sex pressing against the length of my arse. I meant to enjoy the feeling, but then he entered me without warning. He knew what I wanted, perhaps better than I, and how to give it to me.
The pain was sharp and came in waves as each inch of him entered deeper into my body. As the final thrust came, the slow movements we made together began to count a devilish dance.
As Stephan continued to push his way in and out of me, our bodies wet with each other's sweat, he asked me one simple question. “Will you love me forever?"
Without hesitation I replied, “Yes."
The force of his thrusts increased. The room began to spin. I sealed my eyes. M
y body shook from my very bones. I was covered in sweat. Our bodies seemed to leave the comfort of the bed. Was I floating several feet above it, his arms wrapped around me?
The pain was sharp, but not in my arse. My neck. Panic opened my eyes. I tried to pull myself free, but his grip was too tight. The burning in my blood forced tears from my eyes. I felt giddy, lightheaded, the room darkening in my vision as I felt myself fall back to the bed.
I don't know how long I slept, if sleep I did, but when I awoke the sun was setting again. I was in my own room. I felt weak, though something else inside of me felt strong. I called out to Stephan. There was no answer. Some hunger burned in the pit of my stomach. I tasted blood. Suddenly, it came back to me—the night before, what Stephan had done.
Fear and anger raced through me as I absorbed the full impact of my own death.
Questions about my new existence flooded my mind and I had no answers. I felt completely alone, cut off from everything I had once enjoyed. At that moment, I hated Stephan more than words could speak. I had to find him. He needed to pay for what he had done.
I paced the crowded streets, alone except for my thoughts. No one seemed to heed me. I stood in front of the pub. Barely a day before, I had stood in the exact same place, nervous and excited about the possibility of finding someone to experience the pleasures of masculine love—someone to give me new life. Now I stood there, my skin cold, my body dead. I stood there not with fear, but with anger and rage.
My senses seemed sharper, more attentive to my surroundings. I found my seat at the bar and ordered a gin. The same bartender as the night before served me. I looked around, but could not see Stephan in the crowd. As I continued watching the men, the hunger in my stomach grew. I smelled blood, blood that raced through the bodies of these men, these men who were alive. I began to hate them as well. Anger ripped through my body, taking control of my passions.
Then I noticed someone watching me.
Our gazes locked as he made his way to where I sat. His dirty-blond hair hung about his shoulders. His eyes were a deep blue. As he approached, his scent engulfed me. He stood next to me without saying a word. His warm body brushed against mine. In my mind, I saw Stephan standing next to me. As he spoke, I heard Stephan's voice.
Like Magnets, We Attract Page 7