Capture & Surrender

by L. A. Witt

  He was about to shed his trousers when Mike tsked and took over that task, opening the belt and then sliding his trousers down, tapping his calves like he was a horse to get him to step out of them. And he obeyed.

  Geoff was behind him, reaching around to touch his abs, sure and gentle. “You know you’re fucking gorgeous, Frank, right? It’s not . . .”

  “Just mercy?”

  He felt Geoff wince. “It’s not. You know that.”

  He knew very little when Mike pulled down his boxers and touched his cock. God. Yes. Please.

  “You’re friends. Best ones I have.”

  “That’s it.” Geoff’s strong hand took his dick from behind, teasing him, and Mike took his balls in his mouth. Held, embraced, taken care of. They knew exactly what he needed now. Better than he’d known.

  “Yeah. You are.” Frank shuddered when Geoff kissed the side of his neck. Frank tilted his head, arching against him, closing his eyes as Geoff’s soft lips and lightly stubbled chin lit up nerve endings that hadn’t been stimulated in far too long.

  Mike’s hand joined Geoff’s, and they stroked him together as their mouths teased entirely different—and almost painfully sensitive—erogenous zones. Frank reached back in search of Geoff’s hair, and when he found it, he grabbed on.

  “God . . .” He moved his hips to complement their strokes. “Fuck . . .”

  Geoff wrapped an arm around Frank, letting his hand slide up to Frank’s chest. He teased a nipple with his thumbnail, and when Frank shivered, he whispered to him, “You like that?”

  “You know I do.”

  Geoff laughed softly. “Yes, I do.” He squeezed Frank’s cock harder, picking up some speed, and Mike followed suit. As Frank groaned, Geoff chuckled again. “We both do.”

  Frank closed his eyes and held on tighter to Geoff’s hair. His orgasm wasn’t far off, but not imminent either, creeping up at almost a leisurely pace, his body simply relaxing into this hot, intimate contact and enjoying it for as long as possible.

  Geoff pulled him closer, pressing his cock against Frank’s arse. Mike ran his hand along Frank’s hip. They stroked him, teased him, kissed his skin, and held onto him, and it was the closest thing to ecstasy he’d felt in he didn’t know how long. Being touched. Being wanted. He wasn’t even sure how to process that anymore.

  “You see how hard Mike is?” Geoff ground his cock against Frank. “Jesus, Frank. Look what you do to both of us.”

  Frank exhaled hard. He rocked his hips, thrusting into both men’s hands. When he could focus his eyes, he looked where Geoff had told him to, and sure enough, Mike had an impressive and enticing erection. Frank found Mike’s hand with his. He gently pried it off his hip and guided it downward. Mike didn’t need too much direction: he closed his fingers around his own cock, and his strokes were in perfect synch with what he and Geoff did to Frank.

  “Fuck.” Frank rocked faster, fucking their hands and rubbing against Geoff. Geoff groaned in his ear, and Mike released a warm breath as he teased Frank’s balls with his lips and tongue. Long overdue quickly became almost too much, almost unbearable, and Frank moaned as his orgasm closed in, and then Mike started jerking his own cock even faster, harder, the muscles in his arm quivering with exertion. His groan vibrated across Frank’s hypersensitive nerve endings, and both men came, their semen spurting onto Mike’s chest and abs.

  Frank’s entire body shuddered one last time. Had it not been for Geoff, he’d have collapsed over Mike, but Geoff held him up.

  “Jesus fuck.” Geoff laughed and kissed the side of his neck. He pulled Frank back against his erection. “I hope you don’t think we’re done.”

  “No.” Frank swallowed, feeling unsteady on his feet.

  He turned his head for a kiss, and Geoff nearly devoured his mouth, opening him up, tongue and teeth and hunger, but then Geoff broke it, likely getting a bit impatient. “One of us is an amazing cocksucker.”

  Frank shivered, met Geoff’s eyes, but the man nodded, so he turned and went down on his knees. Damn, he wanted this so fucking badly, the smell and taste of it, and it wasn’t just gratitude. He loved cock in all shapes and sizes and loved sucking them and touching them and taking them any way he could, and then giving back as good as he could.

  He closed his hand around Geoff’s dick and guided it to his mouth, the taste of pre-cum lighting up every nerve in his body. Geoff’s skin felt amazing against his tongue and lips, and the man’s gentle curse added to it. He took as much as he could for the moment, then slid up and down, twisted his neck to change the angle, pushed the head against his cheek and sucked on it until it very nearly popped out of his mouth.

  Geoff’s fingers tightened in his hair, while Frank teased his own gag reflex and, on the way back, drove Geoff insane with his tongue, teasing the slit and then the side of the head, then pulled Geoff closer by his hips, giving him permission to move. Geoff did. They knew each other, understood each other, and on every push deeper, Geoff thrust a bit until he managed to get into Frank’s throat.

  Close off everything. Don’t breathe. Don’t think. Instinct took over, and Frank took the face-fuck as best he could, feeling Mike’s hands on his back and shoulders, telling him how hot that was, that he would be getting his damn camera, but Frank was totally lost in sensations of need and want and acceptance, even strength, because he could take that, could make Geoff feel good like that, something not that many men actually managed.

  Geoff came, and he tried to pull away, but Frank kept him in place, again giving permission, and swallowed, accepting that too, sucking the last out of him and swallowing that taste. His jaw ached when he sat back, and Geoff looked down at him and touched his lips. He was panting. “You all right?”

  Frank nodded, still not sure he could deal with all the emotions that had been coming up. He could ignore them most of the time, but sex stripped all the protective layers off him.

  “One day you’ll have to teach me that.” Mike’s voice carried a hint of good-natured jealousy.

  “Practice makes perfect.” Frank cleared his raw throat.

  “He’s got a point.” Geoff urged him to stand again. “And you’re both more than welcome to practice on me any time you want.”

  Mike laughed. Frank smiled, wondering if Geoff had any idea how much it meant to him, knowing there was more to that joke than the implication that he’d want his cock sucked again before long.

  Mike touched Frank’s face and kissed him lightly. “You want to crash here for the night? I mean, as long as you’re”—he looked Frank up and down, and winked—“ready for bed.”

  “Oh. Well.” Frank grinned. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

  Geoff laughed and nudged Mike out of the way so he could kiss Frank. “You know damn well it’s never too much trouble.”

  Thank you, guys.

  “In that case”—Frank trailed a fingertip down the side of Geoff’s face—“I’d love to stay.”

  Stefan arrived at Market Garden at eight o’clock sharp the next night. Right on time.

  Frank had taken up his usual booth, and he was halfway through a drink that really, really needed some booze in it. Even if he had stopped drinking a long time ago, sometimes he was tempted. Employees weren’t allowed to drink, though, and Frank wasn’t a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of boss. Rum-less Coke it was, even if it was barely enough to keep his mouth wet.

  Stefan was on his way to the back room where the guys left their keys and things in lockers, and Frank stopped him.

  “Hey.” Frank glanced up and made eye contact. “Do you mind coming into my office for a minute?”

  Stefan swallowed. “Uh. Sure. Just”—he tugged at his jacket—“give me a minute to put my stuff away.”

  “Sure. Come on in when you’re ready.”

  Stefan held his gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. The faintest shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t had any more sleep last night than Frank had, and probably for the same reasons.
He’d wisely covered up the circles with a little foundation—the boys here weren’t above some cosmetic touch-ups, since their looks put money in their pockets—but Frank still noticed.

  Stefan cleared his throat. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Without another word or glance, he brushed past Frank.

  Frank waited for him in the office. With no one around to scrutinise his body language, he let his restlessness out in drumming fingers, occasionally tapping his heel against his chair too. When footsteps came down the hall, he stilled. Mostly. His foot still tapped quietly against the chair as Stefan appeared in the doorway.

  Frank sat back in his chair. “Shut the door and have a seat.”

  Stefan obeyed. “So. Um.” He coughed into his fist. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to clear the air. After yesterday.” And we’re off. “I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us.”

  “Oh.” Stefan fidgeted, leaning on one armrest. “I guess that’s probably a good idea.”

  Frank took a deep breath and folded his hands on the desk. He stared at them while he collected his thoughts. He wasn’t getting any less nervous as the clock on the wall marked every second of silence, and his stomach still twisted and turned. It wouldn’t get any less difficult or awkward. Time to bite the bullet.

  “I’m going to be perfectly honest here.” Then do. Start starting.

  “You’re going to be frank?”

  Their eyes met. They both laughed, which at least broke some of the tension.

  “Yes, something like that.” Frank unfolded and refolded his sweaty hands. “Listen, there’s no point in me pretending I’m not attracted to you.”

  No surprise registered on Stefan’s face. This wasn’t news to either of them, and he was too cocky to pretend it was.

  Frank continued. “And yes, it’s true I make a point of not getting involved with men who work for Market Garden. But it’s . . . a little more complicated than that.”

  Stefan’s brow furrowed. “Okay.”

  Frank took another deep breath to calm his nerves. “I lost my partner. A year and a half ago.”

  Stefan jumped. “Oh. I’m . . . sorry to hear it.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he’d run out of air.

  “Thank you.” Frank’s voice didn’t have any more strength than Stefan’s. “It’s been difficult. I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “Ooh, yeah.” Stefan broke eye contact and stared down at his own hands, wringing them in his lap. “I can definitely imagine.”

  “Stefan.” Frank drew a deep breath. “My partner died of AIDS-related complications.”

  Stefan’s head snapped up, and Frank thought the kid lost some colour.

  Frank moistened his lips. “And the reason I don’t mess around at the paintball field or—”

  “You’re positive too.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it an accusation. Simply a conclusion based on the evidence presented.

  Frank nodded slowly. “I am.”

  “Oh.”

  “Under the circumstances, I should have told you before we went to the field. But it’s not something I want to be common knowledge here.”

  Stefan’s eyes lost focus. “I understand.”

  Heavy silence settled in, and it seemed to press down on Stefan’s shoulders as much as it pressed on Frank’s. Stefan didn’t look at Frank, which made Frank’s skin crawl. Nothing like announcing you were a leper to someone who’d wanted into your pants twenty-four hours earlier. The kid was probably reeling, mentally replaying all the moments when he’d tried to get to Frank, realising how many bullets he’d dodged.

  As if HIV was the Grim Reaper’s touch. Frank was in excellent health with an exceptionally low virus count. There were condoms. Safe practices. But the disease was still terrifying, and Frank couldn’t deny he’d had the same reaction in his pre-positive days. He couldn’t blame Stefan, but it still hurt.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s all I wanted to discuss. You can go.”

  Please go, Stefan.

  Stefan nodded and pushed to his feet. “Okay. Um, thanks for telling me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “This stays between us.” Stefan pushed the chair back into its place. “Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you.”

  Stefan turned to go. He put his hand on the doorknob, pulled it open, but then stopped, his back to Frank. Frank wanted to ask if something was wrong, but was afraid to. He really didn’t want to hear that Stefan was quitting now.

  Still in the room, Stefan closed the door with a quiet click. He didn’t turn around. “Can I ask something personal?”

  Frank pretended his heart hadn’t jumped into his throat. “Go ahead.”

  Now Stefan turned. Not all the way around, but enough to make eye contact. “What was his name?”

  Frank’s heart stopped. “I . . . what?”

  “Your partner.” Stefan moistened his lips. He’d always seemed so ballsy and cocky, but suddenly he looked his own age. Maybe even a little younger. Boyish. Innocent. “What was his name?”

  Frank found some air. “Andrew.”

  Stefan nodded. “I was just curious. I’m sorry again for your loss.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  And why had Frank wanted to share the name, when most of his days, he managed to not even think it? Eighteen months. He’d moved on, had pushed it all to the fringes of his mind. He no longer woke up thinking Andrew wasn’t in the bed because he’d gone to the kitchen or to the toilet. When he woke up alone now, he knew why.

  That’s the problem with the daddy kink, boy. Old guys have history. And some of it is horrible.

  He was rattled, though. His heart had skipped a few beats, and he rubbed his face. Sexual attraction was one thing. Chemistry. Whatever you’d call it. Kink compatibility. Mutual admiration when it came to shooting paint. He’d enjoyed the banter, too.

  Hell, these days he was so desperate for a touch that he could fully understand the johns that came here for a few moments or hours of relief from loneliness or an itch that they couldn’t scratch otherwise. Simple loneliness could drive a man to act in strange ways. For three weeks after the funeral he’d been a wreck, unable to even feed himself for crying. The soul-wrenching misery of it all, the mealymouthed life goes on, and God is thy shepherd, and he’d always heard what people thought inside their skulls: your insatiable lust has made you both ill, and he’s only the first to be punished.

  It probably wasn’t fair. His therapist had told him he was projecting, but the whole your recklessness will kill you vibe, that had been impossible to deal with on his own. If not for Geoff and Mike, he’d likely have walked into traffic or a train, blind with tears.

  And worst of all was that the anti-virals kept working on him, and working fine. It had been Andrew who’d lost weight, Andrew who’d had horrible stomach trouble, who couldn’t go to work for weeks while every change of his pill cocktail kicked his scrawny arse all over the floor. And then the worst: wishing for death so the suffering would be over.

  Frank wiped at his eyes and forced himself to get up. Facing this shit always brought it all back. All he wanted was to keep people safe and at a distance and keep his goddamned dignity in the face of all of this. Keep the respect of the people working for him, and not have to deal with whispers and rumours and panic when he sneezed or had a cold or was a bit under the weather. He had enough on his plate without all that. Things like staying sane and healthy and enjoying life while he could. And if that meant reffing a game rather than dealing with all the fucking baggage, then that was his goddamned right.

  He grabbed his jacket from the chair and left the office.

  Downstairs, he waited for Raoul to have a moment.

  Raoul whipped a cocktail together for a john, and once the guy had left, sauntered over to Frank. “Boss?”

  “Don’t think I don’t know why you dug up the new guy.”

  Raoul lifted his pierced eyebrow. “He’s a top and hot?”


  “Careful, you.” Frank lifted his finger in warning. “That said, I’m out for the night. Call me if there’s anything requiring attention.”

  “Will do.” Raoul shook his head, as if offended for real. “As long as you trust me with that.”

  Frank turned around and lifted a hand, half fuck you, half see you later.

  Geoff’s email came as a relief in the middle of the week. Somehow, Stefan’s and Frank’s schedule at the club never intersected, but maybe that was because Frank dropped in late and usually left after about half an hour. Easy to miss anybody on a schedule like that. In any case, it was good that both of them had space to retreat to—Stefan did his job, and Frank stayed out of the way.

  You up for some ball busting Sat?

  Frank emailed back that he was.

  How many?

  In all fairness, Chris could likely get Stefan in, if they’d stayed in touch. But Frank decided that was driving the wedge deeper. He was his boss, after all. Maybe a week was enough for things to settle, and they could find some good footing now. The hurt had faded, much like a bruise that had paled. A bit sensitive if he squeezed too hard, but he couldn’t be offended at every weird response he got.

  So he made a point of being in the club at eight sharp that evening and waved Stefan over to his table when he came in.

  Stefan slid in opposite.

  “How you doing?”

  Stefan nodded. “Good. You?”

  He’s not checking your health status.

  “Ah, just busy. The usual.” He folded his hands on the table. “Hey, if you’re game this weekend, Geoff needs a head count. You in?”

  Stefan’s brows drew together a little. “Yeah, I’d like to go.”

  “Okay. Going in with Chris?”

  “With you.”

  Now, that was a bit of a surprise.

  “Oh. Um . . .”

  Stefan cocked his head. “Is that okay?”