by Katsura
"And you are very fond of Fergus, aren't you?"
Mikhail nodded and offered Vinny a menthol cigarette, which he refused. "I am." Mikhail lit a cigarette for himself then snapped closed the gilt cigarette case which had held them. It had a cherub engraved on it. A cherub holding a heart with the initials M M. "And I hope you will believe me when I say that Judas is one of the nicest people that I have ever had the good fortune to meet and I truly don't want anything to happen to him."
"Nothing will happen to him." Vinny lifted his chin resolutely. "You know I went to prison for him. I told you that. I told him I was going to save myself from addiction and I made him believe that. But, the real reason was... I could never let the man who saved me from becoming just another junkie statistic go a place that so terrified him."
Mikhail inhaled on his cigarette and nodded, then he blew some of the fragrant smoke into the air around them. "You are an admirable friend, and I know that he cares about you. It's obvious when I see you both together."
Vinny nodded too and lit a normal cheap cigarette. He passed the fag over to Cain, who, looking a little surprised, took it.
Then Vinny lit another one for himself.
"Yeah. He is everything to me. I went to prison for him because I knew it would kill him to go there." He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. "When he was a kid, about seventeen, he got put in on remand, only he got put in the main prison, not the young offenders place as that was too full of other poor sods. He shoplifted some clothes, you know? And the bastards put him in there over the weekend as it wasn't the first time that he had been caught. Maybe they wanted to teach him a lesson."
Mikhail looked into Vinny's eyes. "That is a shame." Mikhail nodded. "He must have been frightened."
"You think?" Vinny laughed, aware that there was nothing amusing about his story.
"You know what happens to young, pretty, blue-eyed blond boys in prison, Mikhail?
Do you?" He stared at Mikhail's face.
Mikhail looked away then he reached across and patted Vinny's hand gently.
"I can imagine." He nodded gravely, his voice filled with sadness.
"Well, maybe you can or maybe you can't, but what they did to him in there..." Vinny shook his head. "He couldn't even visit me when I was inside. Couldn't even call me.
And I know that he would have wanted to, but he couldn't even do those things as that would have acknowledged that stinking hell hole existed. That's how bad it was, Mikhail, and I really don't know if you are capable of imagining something like that."
Mikhail spent the rest of the journey in relative silence. They lived in a different world from him, these people, and not for the first time in recent days did he feel a little out of his depth.
Mikhail knew that his life had been a cosseted one. He knew that he was fortunate that he had never had to struggle or even resort to selling sex to pay his tuition fees as most of his boys had. He grew up in the brothel run by his father, went off to study when he was old enough and then returned to take over the business himself. His own brothel had mainly male courtesans, but his father's had none. They were all women who had spoiled the young Mikhail beyond belief.
There at the heels of some of the most beautiful women in Poland he had learned to apply make-up. How to use a little of one's lipstick as rouge to give a naturally healthy appearance. How to trace a black line along the upper lashes to frame the eyes and make them look brighter. There was no expensive scent that Mikhail could not identify in a single sniff. He was showered in it as a child, catching the spray from an atomiser sometimes by accident as he sat close and captivated while the women got ready for an evening, sometimes on purpose. The beautiful courtesans dressed up the adorable little boy that he was, decorating his neck with pearls, scarves and fur and laughing in sweet amusement as he tottered by in some borrowed over-sized high heeled shoes.
The real world was mostly a mystery to Mikhail. He and his father had been in the business of fantasy. The fantasy of having a partner for a night who would listen attentively to you, finding every word to be a pearl of wisdom. A place where sex was always on offer and no one ever needed to be cajoled, emotionally blackmailed or worse. The real world was not like that.
Mikhail preferred his version by far.
* * *
The little dog sniffed at the white shirt that lay crumpled on the floor where it had been casually discarded next to the laundry hamper. Hugo watched as it dug its paws against the expensive fabric until it had made itself an acceptable bed, then it lay down and looked up at its master with soulful eyes.
"I don't know why I never gave you a name." Hugo lay idly on the bed and stared at the dog's face. Its ears twitched as it listened for a word that it actually knew the meaning of. "You deserve a name. You are the only thing in this world that gives a fuck about me right now...and that is because I feed you, yes? That is because I put your damn dinner in your damn bowl."
The dog knew the meaning of the word dinner and it lifted its head from the shirt and looked at Hugo expectantly. Despite himself, and the miserable self-pity that he was feeling, Hugo laughed and sat up on the bed. He looked down at the mop of white hair that sat unevenly between the creature's ears.
"Mikhail." He lifted his chin and nodded firmly. "I think I will call you Mikhail.
That is a fitting name for a dog or a bitch."
The dog didn't appear to object to this, and Hugo reached down and scratched its head before reaching further to lift the shirt up from the floor. He held the white cotton against his chest, rocking it back and forth absently as one might cradle a child.
"This is Daddy's shirt, Mikhail." Hugo breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent from the fabric. That expensive aftershave that Fergus always wore. A strong and manly smell. "Daddy doesn't love us anymore.
Well not that he ever loved you, but then you never knew him before...when it was just me and him. He was fun then."
Hugo stood up and he smiled at the dog, then suddenly, he noticed his own thin naked frame in the full length mirror. The smile gradually slipped from his lips. He turned and looked at the old scars on his back, some from the accident and some put there by Fergus, who seemed to love to inflict pain on him. Then there were more recent marks that covered his hips.
Red lines in rows where nails had raked in lust. Why did everyone seem to want to leave their mark on him? He slipped the shirt on to cover himself and hugged his arms against his chest again as he stared into the mirror.
"Maybe Daddy is dead now." He watched the dog's impassive face in the reflection.
"Daddy and maybe even his evil bitch home wrecker. Do you think that we could find a new daddy? Someone who would love us both and we would be happy again? Like a real family?"
The dog just stared at him noncommittally, waiting once more for a word that it recognised the meaning of and perhaps even lamenting that the use of its favourite word previously had not resulted in the delivery of anything edible.
Hugo lay down on the bed again and let his fingers stroke down the front of the shirt. When they reached his abdomen he slid them under the fabric to gently brush his fingertips over the head of his cock.
His eyes closed at the tingle of pleasure that he felt, the scent of Fergus's aftershave now filling his nostrils.
Fergus had always worn that same scent, and as Hugo lay there he felt transported back to the first night that he had smelled it on him. The night of the robbery when Hugo saved the new and intriguing man from getting his handsome face bashed in by some stupid asshole who chose to throw his life away over a few cases of average tasting whisky.
They had come back to Hugo's small flat for drinks and some fun. Well, those were Hugo's intentions anyway. He was sure that Fergus was just there for the booze but Hugo had taken one look at him in the van earlier that evening and wanted nothing more than to feel the man's cock inside him. The fact that Fergus appeared to be straight made that thought seem all the more desirable. Such a delicious chal
lenge.
It hadn't taken him long to get Fergus tipsy on the stolen booze, and then he went to work on him. He sat close to him on the small sofa and gloried in the study of his strong profile, the faultless nose, the solid jawline. The dark hair there that looked so perfect with his naturally tan skin.
"You ever let a guy suck your dick?" Hugo inhaled the aroma of aftershave as he whispered into Fergus's ear. At the same time, he slid his hand down to Fergus's crotch and palmed the large bulge that he found there. "I mean it's no different from having a chick do it. No I lie, it is different. It is better..."
Hugo let his tongue flick lightly at Fergus's earlobe.
"No. " Fergus laughed, "and get your hand off my nuts. I mean it. Move it or lose it, hot shot."
Hugo shook his head playfully and slipped down between the other man's powerful thighs. He gazed up into Fergus's grey eyes which now looked a little glazed, and Hugo smirked. His hand moved boldly to Fergus's zip and he began to slide it down slowly. "I saved you. Your life belongs to me..." Hugo laughed softly in amusement, "and by your life I mean your dick."
Fergus's head fell back against the sofa and he closed his eyes briefly. The alcohol seemed to be working on him as his breath was a little more deep. "Quit it," he mumbled. "I mean it. You are a nice guy and all that, Hugo, and I don't want to hurt you after what you did, but guys just don't do it for me, I'm afraid. Try Judas MacGregor. You know him? He'll let you suck his dick and he might even suck yours in return."
Hugo ignored him. He freed Fergus's cock from his trousers and leaned close. With his palm curled around Fergus's shaft, Hugo firmed his tongue and poked it against the little slit on the head.
"Fuck!" Fergus lifted his head and looked down, his eyes wide but his cock now delightfully hard.
Hugo took the warm and smooth head entirely into his mouth. "Mmmm..." He let the hot skin glide over his tongue, the sound he made sending an arousing vibration through Fergus's cock, and Fergus impulsively grabbed Hugo's hair and forced his head back, staring as he saw the glistening glans slip from between the young man's moist red lips.
"Oh, don't be so mean..." Hugo pouted and fluttered his eyelashes. He licked his lips, savouring the flavour of the fluid that had leaked tantalisingly on to them. "I wasn't going to let you come in my mouth..."
"G...good."
Fergus
looked
a
little
discomfited.
"On no," Hugo shook his head, "not when my ass is just begging to be filled by this..."
He slipped his hand up and down Fergus's now full erection and bit his lower lip, his eyes closed partially in lust. "I bet you will never have felt anything as good as being inside me..." Hugo stood up, pulled his sweater over his head and casually threw it in Fergus's direction. It landed on the sofa and Fergus glanced at it then turned his head back at the sound of Hugo's zip opening. Hugo moved his hips from side to side in a little shimmy, to allow his tight jeans to slip down and reveal that he wasn't wearing any underwear.
The jeans were tossed just as casually as the sweater and Fergus gawped at him, open mouthed. His eyes betrayed the growing interest in the strange and now naked young man who stood before him.
Hugo grinned then he straddled Fergus's strong thighs and purposefully grabbed his cock again. He held it upright with one hand as the other tugged Fergus's trousers and shorts down more.
"I..." Fergus swallowed hard and stared up at him, "I don't want to do this."
"Oh, I think you do." Hugo brought his hips down and pressed the tight ring of his asshole against the now wet tip of Fergus's cock. "Just a little, okay? You owe me. Just let me feel it for a little while."
He rotated his hips and pressed persistently downwards, gasping in unison with Fergus as the head suddenly slipped inside him and Hugo's taut muscles grasped around it firmly.
"Oh, you are such a big boy." Slowly and seductively, Hugo circled his hips in an effort to take Fergus's cock deeper inside him. "You like that, yes? It feels good.
Better than anything you have ever felt before? I bet you want to bury it in me..."
He rode against Fergus now, one hand placed on the larger man's shoulder to steady himself, and he stared deeply into Fergus's eyes. His other hand reached to his ass, stroking where Fergus and he had now become joined, then he leaned back and slid his hand lower. Hugo allowed himself a victorious smile as he caressed Fergus's balls and watched his eyes slip helplessly to the view that he was presented with. The sight of his hard shaft being swallowed up by Hugo's eager body.
"You can you know. You can push it up to the hilt and--"
Fergus pushed him roughly off his lap his eyes blazing with apparent fury.
Hugo landed on the floor with a thud and lay spread-eagled there, gazing up at him with his lower lip pushed out petulantly.
Suddenly Fergus reached down and grabbed Hugo by the hips. Hugo made no attempt at protest as Fergus turned him over and raised him a fraction and he forced his cock into Hugo's ass again. His hips rocked powerfully until he was buried deep inside Hugo's snug and impatient passage. "Is this what you want?" He growled as he held Hugo's slim waist with one hand, the other tangled in his black hair. "Is this good enough for you?"
Fergus yanked at Hugo's hair and Hugo squirmed his hips back against him, sensing that the thought of force and struggle increased Fergus's passion. He let out a yelp of pleasure as the hard cock inside him slipped firmly against his sensitive prostate repeatedly with each thrust of the man's dominant hips. "Ah!"
Hugo cried out louder, his head raised, and he parted his legs more to freely allow Fergus deeper. "Yes! God yes!
Fuck me...just fuck me like you know you want to!"
"Okay I'll fuck you then!" Fergus hit his hips noisily against Hugo's ass. A loud grunt escaped him as Hugo firmly clenched his hole around Fergus's cock.
His tight, hot passage twitched in rhythmic spasms, and Fergus held Hugo's waist in both hands. He steadied him against his thrusts and pulled him back at the same time.
Hugo's knees were braced against the filthy threadbare carpet as he bowed his head in complete submission. The strong hands slipped from his waist to his hips and held them, and he smiled with satisfaction. Fergus was using him. He was just fucking him clearly without a thought for whether Hugo was enjoying it or not.
The obvious selfishness was what Hugo wanted. Everything Fergus was doing was clearly for his own satisfaction and not for Hugo's. He was using Hugo like some brutish animal would, and Hugo loved every minute of it. The deep thrusts inside his willing body, the loud groans of pleasure from a man who was discovering that there was more to life than just pussy...
Now Hugo lay alone on the bed and slid his fingers around his cock. He began to move his fist at a steady pace, already feeling the tightness in his balls and the growing ache as his pleasure began to build. He remembered that night clearly.
Fergus had hit his climax pressed so tight against him, so far inside him that Hugo's delicate skin had threatened to rip at the girth of him. Hugo had wanted it to, when he'd felt that hot spurt so deep within him, echoing the spurt across his fingers, he had wanted to engulf Fergus. Take every inch and every drop of him.
Hugo groaned and arched his back as he felt his cock swell against his frantic fingers, and Fergus's good shirt became stained with the seed that erupted from him in his solitary orgasm. His eyes pressed tightly closed and a tear slid from the corner of one of them and travelled silently down his cheek.
He wasn't crying because he had yet again resorted to masturbation for the little satisfaction that he had in his life. He wasn't really crying at all, but he turned his head tearfully to look at the little dog that had remained respectfully on the floor, and he whispered in an emotional sounding voice, "Mikhail. I don't want Daddy to die. I am not ready to give up on him. I want him back. I want to make him love me again."
Chapter Seven
Cooking for himself was not something that
Fergus was used to, not that there was much here to cook. He was great at planning robberies but not so good at remembering his mobile phone or making sure there were decent easy food options in the cupboard. So it would be toast again.
He put the bread into the toaster and mused on how he would really enjoy some company right now to take his mind off things. Anyone would do, and that was really not like him. Obviously if he had a choice he would prefer Mikhail, but even that offer of an apathetic blowjob that he had turned down from Hugo seemed very appealing right now. He sat at the table and sipped his whisky. Whisky and toast, what a fine evening meal, and there was not even a TV or a radio here to alleviate the boredom. How did people do it? This was a holiday let. Who in their right mind would want to come here for a holiday? It was dull. The weather was crap and there was simply nothing to do. Then he smiled.
Maybe if Mikhail was here they would think of something to do.
The toast popped and he practically jumped out of his skin, then he laughed at how edgy he still felt. Nothing was going to happen. The worst case scenario was that he would die of monotony, but aside deliberately walking carefully to avoid making too much noise. There was definitely someone in the cottage.
Fergus went cautiously through to the sitting room. He knew that his gun was still in his jacket pocket, and he scanned the room quickly to find it. It hung loosely over the back of the chair just where he had left it after they first arrived. But before he could make his way towards it, something caught his eye and Fergus breathed in sharply. A filthy and dishevelled man stood at the doorway. In his hand was a gun, and he pointed it directly at Fergus, who stared back at him, his lips parted in disbelief.
Judas.
He looked wretched, the corners of his mouth turned down in a bitter frown, his hair streaked with mud that stuck to his face and to the side of his head. His clothes looked grimy, as though he had swum the nearby river in them. Nothing about the pathetic individual that stood before Fergus looked like the vain Judas.