Lust for Vengeance

by Katsura

  Fergus couldn't help himself as he walked over, and he smiled not in his usual sinister way but with an actual warmth that he could feel spreading upwards from somewhere in his chest. "Oh, I do expect that it will be..."

  Going home was really not how Fergus would have described what he was doing at this moment, yet if anyone questioned him about where he was headed, he would have been compelled to reply, "I am going home."

  After dawdling for a good few hours, he was no longer able to convince himself that he was taking the scenic route and accepted that he was just putting off the inevitable. He turned the corner, and walked down the street to the rambling town house that had never been anything remotely like a home to him. He felt like a stranger here and battled the urge to ring the doorbell. But it had been his hard stolen cash that had paid for the house in the first place so he had just as much right to walk in unannounced as anyone.

  What was holding him back? He wondered, knowing full well what the answer to that question was. He looked down the street again and considered all of the places he could head to right now instead of here. He even briefly entertained the notion of going back to the brothel, but that would be just wrong. He had made an arrangement to have dinner with the beautiful Mikhail sometime when their diaries would allow, and he didn't want to ruin their plans by seeming too keen, rushing back now with his tongue hanging out.

  When Fergus thought about the beautiful blond man who had greeted them so charmingly at his upper class whore house, he felt a little pang in the pit of his stomach. Desire was something that Fergus had not felt in many years. The instant he had entered the private room with Sacha, Fergus knew that he had made a big mistake and wasn't going to be able to go through with anything with him. Not because he wasn't beautiful. He really was, but as he watched Sacha undress, quite awestruck by his slim and perfect body, he had no desire to fuck him. Sacha had lain face down on the bed, his attractive lips curled in a smug little smile and his legs invitingly parted as Fergus had run his finger down his spine slowly, all the way to his pert and unblemished ass. Had he been Judas, watching how Sacha then raised himself in a delicious offering, he would have been in him before you could say pass the lube. But Fergus had only touched him in the way that someone might be irresistibly drawn to stroke the marble curve of a statue, just to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. His mind was still fixed firmly on Mikhail with his achingly beautiful lips, his deep blue eyes and a walk that would have put even the most highly paid super models to shame.

  As Sacha lay on the bed probably thinking that Fergus was feeling so bloody lucky to have the pleasure of his company, all Fergus could think of was how to ask the young man to put his clothes back on and leave without causing offence.

  He had resorted to giving Sacha a chaste kiss as he patted his cute bottom then Fergus lay back and whispered in a hushed voice, "Just give us a wank, eh?"

  He laughed and shook his head at the memory of how Sacha's eyes had widened in surprise at his request and dearly hoped that the courtesan hadn't shared that little gem of a comment with his gorgeous boss.

  The humour of his tryst with Sacha quickly left him, however, when he once more stared at the house.

  Had Hugo fixed the place up at all, he wondered?

  The neglected property had been marketed as an ideal fixer upper opportunity, but then Hugo had never really seemed the domestic type, and it was difficult to imagine him dressed in overalls as he stripped off the old wallpaper and painted the window frames.

  Maybe he paid someone else to do that work. He had certainly been left wealthy enough.

  A little dog jumped up at the window, and it looked right at Fergus and began to bark shrilly.

  During one of his calls to Fergus in prison, Hugo had said that he had bought a dog. Fergus never cared to ask him anything about it. He'd assumed it would be a gun dog or maybe even a guard dog, but this thing looked like a rat with hair.

  A voice came from inside of the house, loud and annoyed. "Oh do please stop that, darling. Mummy has a headache."

  Fergus laughed.

  That was Hugo's voice, polite and well-bred. Not at all like anyone else Fergus had ever been close to.

  He took a deep breath, stepped to the front door and reached above the lintel where Hugo had told him he would always leave a key.

  He had said that months ago, not being aware of a release date, and Fergus had never enlightened him when the parole board finally furnished him with one.

  The secrecy had been for a very good reason.

  Half of him wanted to come out of prison and start a new life that didn't include a teenage psychopath who no doubt sat with a glass of fine wine behind the red brocade curtains.

  Although he would no longer be a teenager now. He would be maybe twenty-three or twenty-four.

  Not wanting to procrastinate any longer, Fergus unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. He sighed deeply as he heard the dog now bark hysterically and Hugo call out in a rather tremulous voice, "Who is there?"

  Fergus didn't answer but just stood there and watched as the door to the sitting room opened. Hugo appeared, the little dog struggling in his arms, desperate to get its teeth into this nocturnal intruder.

  Hugo's eyes widened on his thin pale face, his black hair an unruly mess on the top of his head in a similar style to the dog's, and his lips parted in shock. He clearly had no inkling that Fergus would turn up. The Hugo Fergus used to know was so vain that he would never have let himself be seen with his hair in such a state.

  It was hard to believe that he was really here and that was really Hugo, who had become little more than a voice on the phone or some racy words on a bit of notepaper to Fergus of late. Fergus put down his bag, as he really didn't know what else to do, and he opened his arms.

  "Surprise?"

  Hugo looked even more stunned for a moment and then he put down his pet and rushed to embrace Fergus tightly, the dog now snapping at their heels and clearly left out of the strange reunion.

  Chapter Three

  The idea of fishing or sitting in a pub with some old geezers playing cards or dominoes seemed old fashioned and pointless to Judas, but there was a certain bygone pastime that never failed to entertain him.

  Cottaging. Now there was an activity sure to spice up the hour or so that he had before he was due to go and meet with Fergus.

  Having Fergus back in the picture was strange to say the least. Judas had grown used to doing things his way and living life to his own irregular timetable. Fergus was a stickler for punctuality and detail, and Judas had actually forgotten that about the man.

  When Judas called a meeting, the guys would turn up--after their regular jobs if they had one--and they would sit and have a few drinks and a few laughs before they got down to the evening's agenda. But when Fergus called a meeting you had to make pretty damn sure that you arrived promptly with your mind set and ready for the business at hand. Judas knew in his heart that people preferred it his way. No one was in this line of work for the nine to five or the pension plan. They were in it for the excitement, cash and most of all because there was no boss to breathe down your neck and give you a fucking deadline. There had been murmurs of dissent already in the weeks since Fergus's return, but Fergus would never know that as he was Mr Big Shot and no one would dare object to his face. Well no one apart from Judas. Judas was approachable and the guys would rib him like he was one of them, but Fergus liked to pull rank and that made people wary about crossing him. But maybe it was healthy for him to be crossed every now and then. After all, things really had changed. Judas was no longer Fergus's lackey. He ran jobs in his own right.

  He smiled as he made up his mind to be late for the meeting, fishing his sunglasses out from his coat pocket before he put them on and entered that quaint and now mostly rare building, the Victorian Gentlemen's Lavatory.

  He walked past the elaborately tiled walls and over to one of the porcelain stalls and thrust his cigarette between his lips. />
  Without further ado he pulled down his zip, feeling no urge whatsoever to pee, but this being the generally accepted signal to imply that one was looking for company.

  He laughed to himself.

  The phrase was as quaint as the building itself.

  Company. It sounded so much nicer than random shag.

  Suddenly he became aware that a young man had come over to stand in front of the urinal next to him and Judas turned his head to the side. He moved his eyes from the young man's face, which was not unattractive, to his hands. Labourer's hands, calloused and rough. Nice. Maybe an apprentice from the local building site?

  The man turned his head to the side too, and he said in a rather gruff voice despite his youthful appearance, "Are you looking at my cock?"

  Judas gave a smile, just enough so that he didn't lose his cigarette to the porcelain drain at his feet, and he lifted one hand to raise his sunglasses by a fraction. "No."

  He then stared blatantly downwards, "But I am now."

  The labourer watched Judas smoothly pull up his zip and saunter over to one of the cubicles where he looked back with the deal clincher, a sly smile and cocky angling of his head towards the privacy of darkness.

  He followed Judas into the cubicle without hesitation, both of them pressed rather close together in the small and pungent confines as Judas switched the lock on the door to read Occupied and slipped his sunglasses back into his coat pocket.

  "What's your name?" Although he knew that people often gave aliases during such encounters, Judas felt that he had to ask, to break the ice as it were. It just seemed mannerly to have a brief introduction before you shoved your cock up someone's arse, but he didn't care about names really.

  "Joe." Joe, if that was his real name, stroked his fingers down the front of Judas's shirt. "And you?"

  "Fergus." Judas glanced down at the fingers. "Fergus Campbell."

  Joe nodded.

  "Nice name."

  "Thank you. I always thought it made me sound like a bit of a twat. Would you like to kiss me, Joe?" He placed both hands on Joe's shoulders, guiding him so that his back was now against the locked door and a poster that extolled the virtues of remembering to wash one's hands, and Judas made a mental note to do this later as he planned on getting them dirty.

  Joe seemed transfixed as he stared at Judas's mouth, and then he nodded, his reply breathless. "Yeah..." He licked his lips, which looked roughened by too much time outdoors, as Judas leaned closer to press their mouths together. Judas's hand slipped up to tangle into the black waves of Joe's hair and their lips moved boldly into a heated kiss. With much pleasure, Judas slid his tongue into Joe's mouth, gliding it against the moist warmth that he found there.

  Too many people just rushed casual sex and cut to the chase, but Judas liked kissing for a while first and he pressed closer, so that their hips moved together.

  The guy's hardness rubbed against his own and he let out a soft groan.

  Yeah.

  It was nice, bit of teasing, bit of foreplay, even in a filthy place like this.

  Judas felt rough hands slide to his waist and then move lower to tease over his hips to his ass, and that amused him. To be robbed in a situation like this was not uncommon, so it was prudent never to keep your wallet in your back pocket and Judas's wallet was safe in the glove compartment of his car. All a thief would find in his jeans was a few condoms and a travel-size tube of Vaseline. Well, it never hurt to be prepared.

  The fingers ignored his pockets though and slid up under the loose shirt that he wore, and the sharp fingernails suddenly raked down his back causing him to jolt forward with a rush of desire. The cubicle door rattled at the force of them both hitting it, but neither of them cared. No one ever came into these places to pee, so if anyone heard, the worst that would happen would be that they would want to join in.

  "Uh..." Judas groaned as his hips ground against Joe's hips eagerly, and then he kissed him more urgently, both of their hands now tangled into each other's hair.

  Judas began to thrust against Joe, losing himself in the irresistible notion of fucking him like this, against the door, with every deep plunge into his ass making the wooden frame rattle its appreciation loudly. The young labourer had clearly done this sort of thing before, and Judas relished the fact that he looked like every cottager's dream. A proper bit of rough complete with the smell of dirt and oil.

  "Don't mean to rush you, gorgeous." Joe broke away from the kiss breathlessly, interrupting Judas's thoughts. It made Judas laugh to be referred to as gorgeous.

  No one ever called him that and he had the feeling this was no poof he was dealing with so maybe he wouldn't get his fantasy after all. "It's just I kinda got a place I need to be soon."

  "Can I fuck you?" Judas pressed closer to him again, looking into his eyes as his hips moved smoothly so that he could feel their cocks rub together once more. "I know it's nothing to boast about but I'd be quick..."

  "Naw." Joe shook his head. "I don't do it like that. Can I do you?" He slid his hands down over Judas's ass again and squeezed his firm cheeks against his palms, clearly enjoying the sensation of their coupling erections too.

  "Yeah." Judas laughed. "But not like that, baby. You been so nice. Least I can do is give you lunch." Judas grinned and reached back to pull the seat of the toilet closed. It never bothered him that his coat had cost him what he normally would have considered a fortune only to have to sit down against the germ laden black plastic. He just did it, pulling down his zip without saying a word. Joe clearly realised what was now expected of him and kneeled down between Judas's spread legs and he moved his hands keenly across Judas's thighs.

  Not getting to fuck the flashy stranger didn't seem to have disappointed Joe at all, and he watched with widening eyes as Judas

  slipped

  his

  hard

  and

  not

  unimpressive cock from out of the confines of his jeans. Joe moistened his lips with his tongue, his eyes appearing filled with lustful anticipation, but there were far better things for him to be filled with, and Judas tangled his fingers into the tousled hair again. He guided Joe's wet reddened lips to the tip of his cock, taking in a long and deep breath as he felt Joe's smooth tongue tease him into that willing mouth.

  It felt so good and maybe even more than that, Judas loved the sounds, the relishing moans of someone who actually appeared to enjoy what he was doing. Yet another beauty of cottaging. People rarely expected to be paid. They did it because they wanted to. Because they liked it.

  With some amount of pleasure, Judas watched one of the hands on his thigh slip down and out of sight, and with time clearly about to run out for his rough and ready partner, it was obvious that he had just decided to please himself at the same time rather than wait until Judas was finished.

  Nice.

  Compliant and efficient.

  Those were some attractive qualities.

  Noticing that Joe was trying to pull Judas's trousers and shorts down a bit more, Judas raised his hips and did this for him obligingly. Joe lifted his head and smiled wickedly as he slipped two fingers from his free hand into his mouth.

  His lips firmed around those fingers as he slid them in and out, and Judas groaned loudly.

  "Fuck. Suck me again, baby. My dick is cold out here," he laughed.

  Joe bowed his head again and Judas's cock was once more enveloped in the glorious heat.

  He then felt the warm, dampened fingers slip deep inside his open fly to massage his balls, and he moved his hand to hold his cock steady. Judas spread his legs wider to give the fingers more room, the sensation of their touch bringing him almost to the brink, and from the way the tongue lapped over him a little more eagerly, he knew that Joe was tasting him already. Judas panted and arched his hips upwards again as the rough fingers snaked further back to probe at his asshole, at first tentatively and then more boldly.

  Then there was that sound again, like someone savouri
ng the flavour of some long desired treat, mixed with...

  Judas felt a pleasant tingle on his thigh and heard

  the

  faint

  sound

  of

  some

  embarrassing song he must have liked at some point to have set it as a ringtone.

  Damn it. Someone was calling him on his mobile phone.

  Just so that there was no confusion about whether Joe should continue, Judas let go of his cock and forced the black curly haired head down a little lower and held it in place as he answered the call.

  "Y...yeah?" He tried to sound as normal as he could as Joe's head bobbed up and down while he sucked quite forcefully on the swollen cock in his mouth. "Jude here...fuck!"

  His voice went a full octave higher as two fingers penetrated him shamelessly and without warning. This sent delicious ripples of shock and pleasure through him and he felt Joe's tongue flatten to allow his cock to slip smoothly into his throat.

  "Where the hell are you?" Fergus sounded furious.

  Shite. He'd misjudged the time. He had really intended to be only a little late, just enough to make a point, but if Fergus had resorted to calling him it must have been later than he thought. He tried to see his watch but Joe's hair was in the way, moving back and forth, back and forth, and he couldn't help himself and let out a deep growl of pleasure as the probing fingers found the trigger.

  "Oh God, yes!" His feet skidded noisily on the ancient and grimy stone floor, and his back arched more as he gave in to the irresistible surge towards his climax. The guy looked like he worked with his hands and he was certainly clever with them as the fingers pressed upwards and moved in a tight circle over Judas's prostate causing his hips to rock in the perfect dilemma over which part of him was feeling the most bliss.

  His cock was now fully inside Joe's mouth, and Judas listened to the muffled breaths that struggled through the nostrils pressed against the curls of his pubic hair.

  He watched the spurt of the stranger's cum shoot over his coat and hit a part of the dirty wall instead. The creamy emission slid slowly down the concrete, just at a point where someone had scrawled the words "I suck dick" next to a crudely drawn penis.