by K D Grace
“No Tommy?” George asked.
Fuck. Fuck it!
“Nah,” the man said. “He apparently hasn’t shown up yet. So I got to come in early.”
“Right. You want me to wear this mask or shall I take it off, Mick?”
“The mask is good,” Mick said.
George lowered it, the eyeholes making him look a little sinister, then walked into the outer shadows, becoming just a stain in the darkness. A bright overhead light snapped on above George and Mick, and its glare shone through the glass. Kevin blinked — the onslaught hurt his eyes, reminiscent of that torch in the alley — and he had to remind himself he was safe here. Or as safe as he was going to get with Tommy arriving a bit later. The man was dangerous — stood to reason with him killing Robin — but who knew whether he’d upped his game, become more violent over time? Would Kevin’s anger be enough to see him through, or would Tommy’s brute force overtake that? Would Kevin end up with his gut cocooning a blade, blood pouring out of him, the upward jerk of the knife a certainty that he might not survive, the tip of it puncturing his heart, just like it had with Robin?
He calmed himself down with several deep breaths and eyed George and Mick. They knew one another, had fucked before if Kevin was any judge of body language. The way they drew together in the centre of the room, all roving hands and lips told him that. They embraced, chests and cocks fused, heads tilted as they kissed, tongues visible. Wet and searching.
Kevin’s cock stirred. About to berate himself for getting turned on, he stopped short. It was a natural reaction, he knew that, but it seemed like he was betraying Robin. Part of him was still attached to him, as though they were still an item, even though he knew that wasn’t the case. He should have accepted it all by now, should have moved on years ago, but it wasn’t every day you met the love of your life then lost them, was it? The kind of relationship where everything was just so insanely right that you waited for something to go wrong. And it had.
Kevin shook his head, trying to toss the memories out into the elements, much like he’d tried to do with George at the cottage earlier. Getting rid of the young man hadn’t worked, but if he just pushed himself that little bit harder, he could watch these two going at it without feeling guilty. Couldn’t he?
It’s like watching porn, that’s all.
Yeah, he’d keep telling himself that.
His breaths shortened and his chest went tight along with the denim over his cock. He placed his hands either side of the mirror so he didn’t touch himself then leaned forward, his pulse thudding in his throat and his balls aching.
Mick and George sprang apart, as though via silent communication.
Mick walked over to the bed. He stripped off his t-shirt, flinging it to the floor. Kevin eyed his muscled chest, the smattering of dark hairs there and the way they travelled down in a narrow line to his navel. Mick removed his jeans and revealed that the hair joined a denser pelt at the top of his cock — a cock that was stout rather than long and stood erect, the tip lilac-hued, looking almost strained, like the man hadn’t had release in a while. Mick climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees and, fascinated, Kevin wondered whether George would take his ass with his dick or if Mick had come here for something else instead.
George stepped to the foot of the bed, holding a crop now, something Kevin had missed while transfixed by Mick’s body. The crop appeared hard and unforgiving, the tapered part without any give, any ability to bend. Kevin winced. What the hell did it feel like to have that crashing against your ass? It’d hurt, he knew that all right, but there must be some form of pleasure to be gained from it, otherwise why do it? He braced himself for George to draw his arm back and bring the crop sweeping through the air until it connected with Mick’s ass, more than a little intrigued as to what Mick’s reaction would be. Instead, George reached down the side of the bed and pulled out a small drawer, taking a bottle of lube in hand. He put the crop down and opened the lube, spurting a generous glob in his palm, before tossing the bottle back into the drawer. He picked up the crop, slathering lube all over the handle, a ridged affair much like a truncheon.
What the hell?
Mick widened his legs, jutted his ass out, and glanced over his shoulder. “Give it to me fucking hard.”
George moved to the side of the bed, parting Mick’s ass cheeks with finger and thumb. Kevin stared at the man’s puckered hole, the way it spasmed as though aware of his scrutiny, his own face growing hot at the sight. George positioned the tip of the crop handle to it then pushed in. Mick’s ass gobbled up the intrusion, and the man himself let out a joyful shout.
“That’s it,” Mick said. “Shove it right up there.”
George eased it inside some more, sliding his hand away from spreading that ass to lay it on the small of Mick’s back. “You want pain, eh? You want me to drive it in and out of your ass until you scream, is that it?”
“Yeah.” Mick panted. “Fuck, yeah. Do it.” He glanced to his left at a mirror on the wall Kevin hadn’t noticed before. “Fuck it so I can watch. Let me see how hard you jam it in. Come on, fuck my ass.”
George pulled the handle almost out then rammed it back inside, repeating the motion with sure, deliberate strokes. Mick bowed his back, pushed his ass out to meet each violent thrust, and keened. Kevin, although shocked, couldn’t stop staring. He pressed his cock to the wall, leaning hard in an attempt to deflate his dick, but if anything the contact and pressure made him harder. He eased back, throbbing, bollocks taut, asshole pulsing. His heart hammered with an uneven cadence, and his lungs grew tight as he struggled to breathe. Sucking in a long, deep breath, he blew it out again through pursed lips, the exhalation as juddery as Mick’s pelvis.
Fuck, that man could take it up the ass. He jerked back every time the handle surged in, as though what he was being given wasn’t enough.
“More,” Mick said. “Fucking push it right up there.”
George obeyed, and Christ, the handle disappeared, part of the actual crop being sucked up too.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Mick licked his lips, gaze glued on the mirror. “You fuck my ass like that — more, more of...ah, yeah, that’s it. A bit more — I can take a bit more. Ram it.”
George pummelled Mick’s ass, wrenching the handle in and out, his knuckles bleached with the effort of him holding the crop with a lubed hand. He bent over and looked at Mick’s cock, something Kevin couldn’t see from this angle. Kevin found himself wanting to see it, to witness whether it bobbed of its own accord, straining for friction.
“You want that fucked too?” George asked.
“Yeah.” Mick nodded. “Yeah, fuck my cock.”
George reached beneath Mick and all Kevin could see was George’s elbow jerking up and down. He filled in the blanks, imagining that stout dick in George’s hand, how the foreskin retracted and the head bulged with every downward stroke. Imagined how soft it was, how it throbbed, the vein undulating. That last visual — man, he knew how an undulating piece felt up his ass, ticking against his rim. Setting him on the path to cumming loud and long, hips bucking, a stream of cum jetting out of him so hard his slit stretched.
Kevin would berate himself later, but God help him, he couldn’t stop himself from freeing his cock and taking it firmly, curling his fingers around it and squeezing. He couldn’t begin to envision what it felt like to have a crop handle up his ass, those hard strokes too harsh, too much, but he remembered the good times when Robin’s prick had been there and that was enough. He wanked, jolting his hand up and down without mercy, loving how rigid he was, how he was pent-up with emotion and need. He almost closed his eyes but stopped himself, feeling guilty for a brief few seconds that he wanted to watch George getting Mick off.
George’s elbow continued to jab the air in sync with the crop handle jabbing Mick’s ass. Kevin wondered if George was hard beneath that PVC. Did his cock strain at the fabr
ic, longing to be freed and placed in a palm that would handle it so roughly, with such purpose, that George would cum with a fierce shudder and a strangled yelp? He must be getting some satisfaction — how could he not? Despite the scene not being anything remotely close to what Kevin was used to, it was undoubtedly erotic, sexy as fucking hell, inspiring feelings in Kevin he never would have expected.
I want that crop in my ass.
He surprised himself with the admission while pumping on, gripping his cock with more force. He panted, roving his free hand under his t-shirt to pluck at a nipple, pinching and tweaking until the bite of pain registered and sent a sharper spike of lust to his cock. He released a stuttered groan at the same time as Mick, who rocked his pelvis back and forth, his dick into George’s hand and his ass onto that merciless handle.
“Oh, yeah,” Mick breathed. “This is what it’s all about. Ass and cock, being fucked, used. Smack me. Hit me. Fucking hit me!”
Mick took over on his cock, jerking it with a super-fast rhythm as only a man hand-fucking himself could, as only a man wanking himself off knew how to — knowing what he liked and how he liked it. Kevin mimicked him, and Christ he’d cum any second if he didn’t slow down. But he couldn’t slow, couldn’t stop the mad wrench on his prick, the chase for release. George raised his free hand and brought it down on Mick’s buttock, the slap of sound as skin met skin a shocking jolt to Kevin. George smacked again, several times in quick succession, and Mick juddered.
“Fuck it up my ass. Go on. Hit me harder.”
George slapped on, minimal time between each strike, and Kevin couldn’t hold back any longer. His balls tightened for a second before releasing his cum. It sped up his cock, a lightning streak of pure bliss, and erupted, stretching his slit as he’d guessed it would. He heard it slap against the wall, and before he had enough time to fully register that, another speeding arc left him. He hollered, mindless of being overheard, and damn it, closed his eyes. He heard someone else shouting a stream of ohGodohGodohGod and with that as an accompaniment, he rode out the last tendrils of his orgasm.
Chapter Four
♦♦♦♦
Kevin wiped his sticky hand on his jeans — wasn’t much else he could do, was there? He tucked himself away and zipped up, heart still rocking as he came down from such a massive high. He dragged the back of one hand across his forehead to remove the sudden outbreak of sweat then glanced through the two-way. Mick was getting dressed, quickly and with jerky movements. George paced beside the bed, his mask still in place, hair poking out at odd angles either side of the elasticated band around his head. In no time Mick put some cash on the bed then left, and George locked the main door. He headed for Kevin’s cupboard and burst inside, a half-illuminated figure by the light coming in from the other room. George yanked down his PCV cock pouch and thrust his back to the wall, jerking his cock without any embarrassment.
“Fuck, I nearly...didn’t manage...to hold back,” he said, voice wavering from his rapid wanking.
If Kevin hadn’t cum himself he would have now. Watching this young man raise his ass off the wall, pushing his cock out, would have set him on fire. He knew he ought to look away but couldn’t. This experience, being here, was a revelation. He was finding things out about himself he hadn’t thought he would ever even consider. Crops up asses, men masturbating in front of him. Some guy who hadn’t even known Kevin was there asking for it harder, to be hit at the same time as being invaded by an object other than a cock.
George had immense control of himself for one so young. Perhaps he’d learned not to cum with clients, had schooled himself to wait until they’d left. Kevin guessed he’d been doing this for a while now to be able to hold off the way he had. George wasn’t holding off now, though, he was going at it, panting hard. He gyrated against the wall, ass slapping it, and let loose a primal yowl as he covered the end of his cock with his free hand and caught his spunk in it. The scent of his cum filled the air — exceptionally tangy, overpowering — and far from making Kevin want to gag, he found he liked it.
“Christ Almighty,” Kevin breathed. “I said it earlier, but you really are something else.”
George slowed on his cock and pushed off the wall, going out into the main room. “I didn’t think,” he called back, “that it would make a difference, me knowing you were watching, but fuck, it did.”
Kevin blinked, unsure how to respond. Was what they had done dirty? Him enjoying the show, and George enjoying the fact Kevin was loving every second of it? He didn’t know. He probably would have said yes if anyone had put this scenario to him before now, but since it had happened and it hadn’t felt wrong after the initial flush of guilt...
“I mean,” George went on, “I just usually do my job, know what I mean? Don’t get anything out of it these days because it’s all the same thing. They want to get off, I help them get there. ‘Ere, did you like it?”
Kevin went to join George in the other room but stopped himself. A burning blush rose in his cheeks and he didn’t want the man to see it. “Uh...yeah.”
“How do you feel about that? And come out here to have a wash if you’re all spunked up.”
Fuck! Kevin stuck his bottom lip out and blew, hoping the air would go some way to cooling his face. It did, a little, but he’d still be red-cheeked. Nothing he could do but go out there and clean up. Tommy would be here soon. He needed to get focused, to psyche himself up for a confrontation he’d relished for years. Spent as he was, though, he wondered if going after the bastard tonight was wise.
Kevin walked into the main room and joined George at a sink in the corner. Those rosy lights when he’d first entered had hidden many things. It didn’t bother him to share washing space — he’d shared showers and sinks in the pen — so he flopped his cock out and began washing. George gave him a sidelong glance — well, his cock more than Kevin himself — and nodded as though he approved.
“Nice bit of fucking equipment there, Kev.”
Kev?
“Um, thanks?”
“You’re welcome. Now...” George rinsed his dick and reached beneath the sink, bringing out a towel. He dried off. “What has Tommy done exactly to get you so riled up?”
Kevin only hesitated for a second before responding. “He killed my partner.” He took the towel from George.
“What?” George widened his eyes and placed a hand on his chest.
“You heard me,” Kevin said, harsher than he’d meant to.
“How do you know?” he asked, walking over to the filing cabinet and springing the doors wide.
“Because I served twenty years for his murder and someone on the inside did a bit of digging. Found out Tommy had done it.”
George pulled out his own clothes and began dressing. “Well, fucking hell! That’s a bit of a bastard, ain’t it?”
“Just a bit.” Kevin zipped up, uncomfortable as the damp shock of his cum settled on his dick again. “Does he like seeing you dressed in normal clothes? Tommy, I mean.”
“No, he doesn’t, and he won’t be seeing me dressed in anything again. Not if I can bloody help it.” George shrugged into a jacket, slid his feet into his trainers, and turned to face Kevin. “He told me a story about killing some bloke once and I didn’t believe him. Thought he was just some old prick trying to impress. Seems he wasn’t. Well, he’s an old prick, but he wasn’t lying, was he?” He reached for the money on the bed and clutched it in one fist.
“No.” Kevin clenched his jaw. “Did he say why he killed him?”
George tilted his head. “Matter of fact he did. Let me just think now...” He paused for a bit, staring at the ceiling in thought. Returning his gaze to Kevin, he said, “Yeah, that’s it. He said this bloke wouldn’t leave his lover for him or something. That he’d tried to get him to fuck him but this guy wouldn’t. Some shit like that.”
Kevin’s stomach tightened. Tommy had come on
to Robin? When was that, and why hadn’t Robin told him? Kevin and Robin had rarely been apart except for when they worked, so that meant...
Shit, he came on to him the night of the murder. Waited until I’d left and fucking well put Robin on the spot.
The room swirled. Kevin experienced such anger, such immense sorrow, he struggled to breathe. George strode across the room, leading him to the bed. Kevin sat, limbs shaking, the need to grab hold of Tommy and throttle the life out of him the main thing on his mind.
You just fucking wait, Steel. I’ll have you...
“I’m not fucking him,” George said. “Not now. He can go and find some other mug to put a cock up his ass.”
Kevin nodded, numb now, and allowed George to pull him upright.
“Come on,” George said. “We’re leaving. Going home.”
“No!” Kevin threw George’s hand off, coming out of his stupor. “I need to see him. Got to do this.”
“Do what? Hit him? Shout at him? That’s not going to do anything except make you feel better for maybe five minutes.”
Kevin shook his head. “I’m going to kill him. You should leave, let me get on with it.”
“Fuck if I’m leaving. Not without you.” George gripped Kevin’s wrist and tugged him from the room. “We’re going home. Then tomorrow we can go to the police, tell them what you heard about Tommy. They’ll look into it.”
“Chance would be a fine thing. They stitched me up in the first place.”
In the bar, George dragged Kevin over to Mr. Benson and handed over a few notes. “I’m not coming back here. Tell Mr. Steel I’m not available no more.”
Benson frowned. “Fair enough. Could have given me a bit more notice, you tosser.” He drew his top lip back over his teeth then let it drop. “He hasn’t shown up anyway. Hasn’t called in to cancel either. Unusual for him.”
“Right, well, thanks for letting me work here,” George said. “But I’ve got my friend here to look after now. You know how it is.”