Hipster Brothel (contemporary gay romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  Mr. B curled his fingers on the quilt he sat on, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t force himself to question what was happening. The explosion of emotions in his chest was too much to handle. Was Jo into him? Was he just trying out something new? Was Mr. B even okay with this? The idea of Jo being sexually available to him was so fresh he couldn’t handle it.

  Jo’s breath was warm, even through the fabric, but when Mr. B’s underwear was pulled lower as well, he could see Jo’s eyes widening when his dick sprang out to be adored. With a soft grunt, Jo curled his fingers around the base and held Mr. B’s balls in his other hand, keeping them warm and squeezing gently.

  Did Jo even know what he was doing? Had he kept it a secret all this time that he was into guys… as well? Because Mr. B was sure Jo didn’t lie about his interest in women. Most of all, Jo wanted him? Mr. B wished he could know everything about where they stood with each other right now. If only he could give Jo the questionnaire and know how to please him, and keep him interested, and… oh, God. He was so into Jo. He was so fucked.

  Jo squeezed his hand around Mr. B’s dick and pulled it up, watching the cockhead in reverence as it beaded with fluid at the top. He seemed hesitant but then dove right in and licked the precum off before trailing his tongue all around the head. He whimpered and sucked it in, closing his eyes when a dark flush appeared on his cheeks.

  Mr. B moaned and bit into the side of his hand, overwhelmed by the soft, wet mouth. And not just anyone’s mouth. Jo’s. Maybe he was still dreaming? Served him right for taking a nap mid-day. No. His dreams were never this vivid. He controlled himself not to buck his hips and make Jo choke, in fear that the glorious mouth would then forever stay out of his reach. What was he supposed to do? It felt too good to be true, and yet he had no idea what Jo wanted out of this.

  It only reminded Mr. B why he’d always been apprehensive about sex with strangers. Figuring out how to pleasure someone took time and attention. He wanted to give Jo so much but didn’t know what would be greeted with enthusiasm. But then again… Jo was most definitely not a stranger, and despite not knowing if Jo would like his hair pulled on, or if he preferred to just slowly suck Mr. B’s cock, the moment felt so right Mr. B was getting lightheaded. Like when he wasn’t sure what to do with that old sofa, and then he found those blankets, and everything just slotted into place, and oh, God. He moaned even louder.

  Jo’s nostrils flared, and he took his lips off Mr. B’s cock, only to hold it as he drew burning hot lines up and down the entire length with his tongue. His hand was now even warmer around Mr. B’s balls, and the next time Jo licked his way down, he opened his fingers, sucking softly on Mr. B’s sensitive nuts. He took his time, teasing them with his tongue while his hand slowly moved up and down Mr. B’s dick.

  Mr. B couldn’t help the way his hips arched up and down slightly to meet the touch. His heart pounded like after the most intense Crossfit workout. Some of the toughest workouts had been named after women, because they left a man panting, pumped out, and yet coming back for more. Mr. B would call them all Jo.

  Mr. B curled his toes in his boots, unsure how much more of this merciless teasing he could take. His brain was mush, but it started frying when Jo opened his mouth and took his cockhead in again, sucking around it gently and finally looking up, straight into Mr. B’s eyes. His eyes were so black when his mouth stretched around the thick girth of Mr. B’s cock, but he didn’t look away as he sank lower, taking in more of the length.

  With his fine black hair sticking to his face and his handsome features softened by the flush, he was the most beautiful man alive.

  Mr. B couldn’t bear it anymore, and he reached out to gently grab Jo’s hair as his world exploded with colors, and he came. All too fast, moaning loudly, with heat burning his cheeks as if he’d come too close to the fire. He didn’t close his eyes though, staring at Jo with a mixture of adoration, arousal, and surprise.

  And love. So, so, so much love.

  Jo was everything. How had Mr. B not seen it? It was so obvious now. Right in front of him, all this time. He’d thought he was falling down a deep dark well, but now he felt like he’d landed on the softest of pillows.

  Jo coughed when the first spurt of seed erupted in his mouth, but he didn’t pull away and just sucked on the head, swallowing what didn’t dribble down his clenched fingers. The loud slurping made Mr. B’s head explode with arousal, and when Jo moved his mouth down the cock to lick off the white trails of spunk, he found it impossible to stay still, even with the way Jo pushed against Mr. B’s hand in his hair.

  “L-let me…” Mr. B whispered, embarrassed by his unsteady voice and still overwhelmed after his orgasm. His knees were soft when he slid down to the floor, awkwardly pushing on Jo. He was torn between looking at Jo’s handsome face and giving him all the pleasure in the world.

  Jo fell back, spreading his thighs slightly around Mr. B’s hips. His lips were swollen from the blowjob, and he licked them like a self-satisfied cat, pushing up his hips, with an erection clearly tenting the front of his pants. “Yeah...”

  That was enough to spur Mr. B into action, and he fumbled with the weird side-zipper in Jo’s pants to pull them down quickly along with the underwear. He was dying to see Jo’s cock hard, dark, and oh, it was everything Mr. B never knew he needed. Without sparing another second, he bowed down to take as much as he could at once into his greedy mouth. He wanted to drink up all of Jo’s seed, wrap his arms around him, hold him close, and then give him head in the morning, and then make him breakfast in bed.

  Jo let out a low-pitched groan and pushed up, rubbing his clean-shaven groin against Mr. B’s cheeks. He smelled so fresh Mr. B wished he could just wrap himself with Jo’s legs and soak up their scent. Jo rubbed the sides of Mr. B’s face, gently massaging the skin beneath the beard and hair. His chest was jumping up and down with each shallow breath as Jo squirmed under Mr. B’s body. “Fuck... I can’t...” he uttered, squeezing his hands on Mr. B’s beard.

  That was Mr. B’s cue to bob his head faster. Go on, he wanted to say, take all the pleasure you want. Without thinking, he reached under Jo and squeezed his ass hard, the way he’d always dreamed of doing. He didn’t even know he dreamed of it, but he did. He’d just always pushed that thought aside like an unwanted chair. Mr. B had a whole junkyard of thoughts like that at the back of his mind, and they were all crashing down under their own weight.

  Jo cried out and pushed his hips up, his thighs starting to tremble on both sides of Mr. B’s face. “I’m coming…” he whimpered, rolling his head back.

  Mr. B wouldn’t stop sucking now even if the train car were on fire. He wanted to make Jo happy so much it was getting him aroused all over again. What else was Jo into that he’d never told Mr. B? But then it became hard to focus on those questions when he had Jo’s hot, throbbing dick spurting cum all over his mouth.

  He swallowed the warm seed without thinking and petted Jo’s angular hips gently, savoring the taste of him. He’d been with Mr. A for so long that this new aroma surprised him, and he closed his eyes, taking his mouth off Jo’s softening cock, only to rest his head on it and breathe in the musky scent of sweat and Jo’s arousal.

  Could time stop so that he didn’t have to face the array of confusion knocking at his brain? He rubbed his cheek against Jo’s cock, and he couldn’t care less if he’d end up with spunk in his beard. He pressed a tender kiss against Jo’s hip, his whole body feeling like cotton candy made of affection.

  Jo’s hand kept petting his head while they lay on the floor in a heap of sweaty limbs. As surprising as this had been, Mr. B couldn’t find it in himself to have doubts about what happened. It was Jo who initiated it after all, and while he had questions, the touch calmed him down enough that he could wait.

  “That was… surprising,” Mr. B mumbled in the end, unwilling to lift his head just yet. He slid his hand up Jo’s abs, revelling in being able to touch them this way.

  “Yeah,” whispered
Jo, tracing his fingertip over Mr. B’s cheekbone. He stayed silent then, just breathing in and out.

  Mr. B frowned, and flinched when worry sank its icy fingers into his stomach. Was Jo having second thoughts? Was he regretting what they’d done? “Was this… I mean, have you ever done this?” Just like that, his imagination served up a whole buffet of Jo kneeling in front of faceless men, sucking their cocks like a pro. Mr. B hated his own brain with a fiery passion.

  Jo groaned and let out a sharp exhale, watching the ceiling. “No, never.”

  Mr. B buried his wide smile in Jo’s groin. “But I didn’t do anything to suggest that you, like… have to do it, right?” The last thing he’d want was to be that pushy gay guy perving on his straight friend until he gave in.

  Jo picked himself up, supporting his upper body with his elbows. His face still had that pretty dark flush, and he looked away, mouth curved into a half smile. “No. I mean... I’ve been a bit bi-curious for some time now.”

  Mr. B slowly pulled away, embarrassed by the intensity of his own feelings. “Bi-curious… So… you felt comfortable enough with me to explore it?” He frowned, trying not to give in to the panic chain reaction exploding all over his body. Had he just made a big deal in his head of something that for Jo had been as casual as a handshake?

  Jo smiled, and his shoulders relaxed when he leaned forward, pulling Mr. B closer by the nape, as if he wanted a kiss next. “You could say that. No one is as comfortable to be around as you.”

  Mr. B stiffened his neck to avoid the kiss, a cold, dark feeling pooling in his stomach. If he kissed Jo now he’d be as good as ready to go buy those wedding rings when Jo was just experimenting with a single friend on a hot summer day.

  “So, it’s cool between us?” he forced a smile despite his heart getting thrown into the shredder. This could not happen again if Jo only wanted to have some fun with a friend he felt ‘comfortable’ with. It could not happen if Mr. B was to become the sexually liberated single guy who offered the Lumbersexual Experience. And right now, Mr. B didn’t want to think about the stupid brothel. All he wanted was to tumble in the sheets with Jo again and again. And wasn’t he supposed to not get entangled? To try to keep things casual after a five-year failure of a relationship?

  Jo swallowed, keeping his hand on Mr. B’s nape for a moment longer before finally taking it off and using it to pull up his pants. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re cool,” he said quickly, looking down as he zipped himself up.

  Mr. B now had no other way but to see Jo in a new light. One in which he was a potential lover. A potential life partner forever and ever.

  No. Mr. A was right. He was too clingy. Jo had barely given his first blowjob. What if this was Jo’s idea of a fun way to prepare in case he wanted to have sex with another guy? What if Jo wanted to experiment with more than blowjobs?

  Mr. B’s mind became a gutter of the filthiest kind, with Jo splayed under him, moaning as his lean, muscular body took Mr. B’s cock. Jo lying on the bed, all smiling and flushed as Mr. B did all the work and milked his cock.

  Mr. B licked his lips, but that didn’t help, because he could still taste Jo’s spunk. “I’m hungry,” he said, quickly pulling up his pants and trying to focus on pretzels instead of cock.

  Behind him, Jo got to his feet, and the buckles at the sides of his boots clinked when he moved. The silence was so thick with discomfort Mr. B wished he could just eat himself to death with the pretzels and not have to confront the sinking feeling inside his chest.

  “B... are you sure it’s all cool?” Jo asked in the end.

  Mr. B could hardly comprehend all the romantic feelings he had for Jo, so how was he supposed to communicate them in a sensible way and not lose a friend? On the other hand, what gave Jo the idea that it would be okay to unleash all this on him, just because he felt like experimenting? It wasn’t fair. Jo knew no guy could refuse a blowjob. And now Mr. B was stuck with all the conflicting feelings that resulted from it.

  “Yeah, sure. Just two guys experimenting, having fun and all that, right?” He shrugged and pulled on the suspenders, but they didn’t really help him be any less exposed. Stupid straps of leather.

  Jo was silent again, then exhaled. “You know what, I didn’t tell you before, but I actually have to return to work today. Is it fine if I go now? I’ll... text you later.”

  Mr. B ran his fingers through his hair. “Sure. I’ve shown you the tobacco bar, so you know it’s all going well.” He tried to act normal, he even smiled, but he was physically unable to look into Jo’s eyes.

  When Jo approached Mr. B to touch his arm, he barely kept himself from flinching away. The touch burned but was brief, and Jo left the train car, his boots thudding against the steps. That was that. The next thing Mr. B heard was the gate shutting.

  They just needed some time apart, and everything would go back to normal. Maybe that has been the only ‘bi-curious’ experiment Jo ever wanted anyway? Mr. B wouldn’t dare ask.

  Once he was sure Jo had driven away, he was desperate to get his trembling hands busy, so he walked off toward the forest where he had a whole stack of wood waiting to be chopped into smaller pieces. He’d burn off some steam, and all would be fine. It would have been better if he were able to be friends with benefits with Jo. Be the fun and casual guy.

  But he wasn’t. They’d only just connected and Mr. B had thought of wedding-related things twice. Three times, counting now, because his brothel fairy lights suddenly seemed like the perfect decoration for a rustic wedding in the woods.

  Mr. B picked up the ax and cut straight into a piece of wood, because the intruding thoughts were not going away, buzzing in his head like hornets, ready to strike any time he wanted to get back to imagining his escort business. How was he to ever change if he now started obsessing about Jo?

  But no matter how much wood he chopped, he still envisioned Jo as the most stylish groom.

  Chapter 4

  On Friday, Mr. B missed his fourth usual Crossfit session in a row. Once again, Jo called him, only to hear the generic voicemail message, and he tossed his phone into his bag, increasingly stressed out by the whole situation. After the giant fiasco that resulted from Jo finally choosing to make his feelings known to Mr. B, most of his texts had been ignored, and those that hadn’t been, suggested that his help with refurbishing the train car wasn’t wanted anymore.

  He couldn’t help the sensation of something gradually crumbling inside his chest as the reality of his move having irreversibly damaged their friendship sank in piece by piece.

  He’d been so fucking stupid. Mr. B was gay, so if he actually reciprocated Jo’s sentiments, Jo would have noticed earlier, but it was too late now. All that remained was awkwardness and the smell of salted caramel pretzels coming from the bakery Jo passed on his way home every day. It reminded him of Mr. B whenever he passed the shop.

  At least he had the chance to burn off some steam at the Crossfit session, but he usually had Mr. B to spot him, and so his absence was impossible to miss, even if Caleb was there to substitute. And speaking of the devil, Caleb rushed into the changing room right before Jo left for the showers, sweaty and red in the face.

  “Oh, good, I was worried I wouldn’t catch you.”

  Jo exhaled and toweled off the excess sweat as he turned around to look at his trainer. “What’s up?”

  “Do you know what’s going on with Mr. B? I’ve heard some weird gossip, and now he stopped coming. Is he all right? Did he just get lost in a donut hole?”

  Jo licked his lips. “No. He’s been very busy lately.” He stalled, unsure whether he should ask, but curiosity won over. “What kind of gossip?”

  Caleb looked over his shoulder as if checking if they were alone, but with the voices and sounds of water coming from the shower, they could be quite certain no one would eavesdrop on their conversation. “That he’s planning on running an escort business?”

  Jo stared at him for several seconds. This wasn’t something Mr. B advertised...
or had he? “Who told you of this?”

  Caleb raised his eyebrows. “So it’s true?”

  Damn it. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, if he is, then tell him to get his ass to the box next week, because he needs to tighten those abs if he wants to earn anything.” Caleb laughed, but Jo didn’t find it all that funny.

  “Anyway. Whoever is spreading those rumors, I’m gonna have a word with them if Mr. B doesn’t get his ass back here to do it for me,” growled Jo.

  “Okay, okay.” Caleb raised his hands. “It did sound outlandish to me, so I thought I’d just ask.”

  Jo exhaled, eyeing the entrance to the showers. He really wanted to be out of there, and if Mr. B wouldn’t talk to him on the phone, Jo would deal with the issue in person. They’d been so close for years. He wouldn’t just give up on this friendship without a fight, even if Mr. B’s avoidant behavior infuriated him to no end. He would go to his place, whether he was wanted or not, and he would not bring over any food.

  Not even sandwiches.

  *

  Jo’s legs hurt so much after Crossfit and riding all the way to Mr. B’s stupid brothel-train. The more Jo thought about it, the more he was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t put a stop to this dumb idea sooner. Mr. B was not cut out to be an escort, no matter how cute he was or how much he liked sex. He simply didn’t have the right personality for it.

  It was already getting dark when Jo finally reached the patch of land in the woods where Mr. B resided since his breakup. He rang his bell, to let Mr. B know he had company and dismounted the bike, pushing it across the sandy part of the road, all the way to the gate. He propped it against the wooden fence and walked toward the train, taking in the chaos of wooden planks laid out in front of the car. What kind of furniture was B making now? Crosses? Bondage beds? What other equipment did that freaking single room need? Or had Mr. B already started on the second train car, which so far remained a wreck where Mr. B made his booze, jams, and pickles.