The Killing Games

by Antony J Woodward

  Had Clemmons truly managed to disappear? He stepped around and followed the layout that led directly back into the kitchen as a circle. He passed the only closed door, a white wooden door that someone had painted a rather crude stick-figure orgy on. He tried the door, but it held fast.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” The voice made him jump. His attention bolted to the side and he was greeted by a somewhat familiar stranger. Jon Clemmons had returned home with an armful of groceries, all bound in a pale supermarket bag. He looked sort of like the picture Jon had sent Jason, the one Chris had manipulated him for and then used to expose their secret affair. He had a square face, very flat and angular. The hard edges of his face were exaggerated with his long thin and equally pointed nose. His eyebrows were thick, bushy and dark. The man needed to learn to shave between them, nobody had ever told him that the mono-brow was not a good look. He now had a scraggy short beard and an ill-maintained haircut that was probably self-trimmed. He’d looked grim before, like he perpetually scowled, but right now he looked thunderous. The scowl was just another straight line on a rather angular face.

  He was broad and wide, but not particularly muscular. He was dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of jog pants. He looked like he was homeless, but that might’ve been intentional…

  He looked exactly as Chris assumed he would, like he had fallen from grace and hit every stone on the way down.

  “Sorry, I was looking for Jon Clemmons…” Chris pleaded ignorant.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jon growled in a much deeper and gruffer voice that perfectly suited his demeanour.

  “I-ah, I was a friend of Jason Le Bont…”

  “You’re fucking English,” Jon dismissed angrily. He closed in and Chris wasn’t sure if he was going to strike out.

  “I befriended him when he came to my school. I was there when he…” Chris trailed off. He may have softened in the last three months, but he hadn’t forgotten the art of lying.

  Jon faltered a moment, then he stepped back.

  Chris had slinked backwards, imitating shyness. He slowly lifted his eyes and with great dramatic flair he whispered, “he was my friend…”

  It hung in the air for a moment, for a long moment that made Chris suddenly question whether he’d overdone it.

  “You was friends with him, and you just thought you’d come find me…?” His dark eyes burnt into Chris but he didn’t break the eye-contact,

  “Well he always spoke highly of you. He loved you didn’t he…” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Chris shrugged gently, his gaze persisting.

  The words affected Jon more than he wanted to reveal, he shuffled the bag in his arm and visibly shivered.

  “I dunno… I just, I wanted to reconnect with him I guess. So I thought I’d try and find the man he loved…” Chris added perfectly pressing on that nerve.

  Jon visibly shrunk.

  “He was a good guy, it was such a tragedy…” Chris added, the level of sorrow was absolutely spot-on. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have come…” he went to leave.

  “Wait.” Jon stopped him. He sighed. “I thought you was another little shit here to throw bricks at my house…”

  “God no. I’m not here to judge, he loved you. You obviously loved him too… The world just didn‘t understand that…” Chris offered. His last sentence resonated deeply with the older man. Made him homesick for his young lover, made his eyes moisten and his gut twist. He sighed and with that he took out a set of keys and he unlocked the door that Chris had tried to open. He then led Chris down a set of stairs into the basement, “shut the door after you,”

  The entirety of the house had been transported to this below ground level. It was illuminated by energy saving light bulbs, the ones that took a little while to fully brighten. It made the basement a little gloomy for the moment. In one corner a kitchenette had been erected, a dirty fridge and microwave sat alongside a heavily used kettle. To Chris’ left he spied a double bed and a small wardrobe. As he stepped off the stairs, he turned and saw a settee and TV had been stationed in the opposite corner. A washing machine was rumbling quietly next to a solitary sink between the lounge area and the kitchenette. A dining table was laden with piles of washing and groceries. Suspended on a washing line, several items of clothing were air drying. Chris couldn’t help but notice the white underpants.

  For a basement it was rather homely, if a little dirty. It didn’t smell, which was always a bonus. Jon placed the fresh groceries on the table, “would you like a drink?”

  “I’m okay thanks,” Chris closed in on a bookshelf near the bed. It was laden with books and framed photographs. Pictures of Jon with an elderly woman. Chris was drawn to a particular image of a face he’d not seen in many months. Jason Le Bont, in Jon Clemmons’ arms, beamed up at the camera.

  “How did you meet Jason?” Jon appeared from around the stairs and caught Chris looking at the photo intently. The boy was attractive, if a little too effeminate for his taste. But something moved deep in those green eyes and he just knew the kid had learned how to bewitch people with them.

  Chris replaced the photo tenderly, it hadn’t struck any emotional twang. No guilt had hit him in the gut. No regret had landed at his feet. Nothing.

  Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as he thought he had?

  “I took him under my wing…” Chris turned to the older man with a small warm smile, “Helped him orient to the trappings of England…”

  “Christopher? Is that your name?” the name came back to Jon and he whispered it gently.

  Chris was surprised, he couldn’t hide it.

  “He spoke of you,” Jon added realising that the boy before him really had been a friend of his lover. “Spoke quite highly of you,”

  Chris smiled and acted embarrassed, but he was genuinely surprised that Jason had spoke of him. Obviously when Jason had returned home at Christmas time, spending their last holiday together, Chris had come up in conversation. The fool…

  “Said you was nice to him…”

  “He was nice,” Chris shrugged. “I have to confess I did want to sleep with him… but he really held the torch for you,”

  The confession was sort of true and Jon softened. The loss of his young lover ached in his heart like a tonne. His entire life had turned upside down and inside out, but none of that compared to the loss of the sweet Jason he’d held so dear. He’d been described as a paedophile, as a monster, but none of it changed how he felt for the boy. His eyes closed as he felt a little impulse to bawl wash him. Some days were worse than others.

  Chris saw the man crumple a little, he closed in.

  “I can see why,” he added as he placed a hand against the older man’s cheek. Jon didn’t flinch, after a moment his own hand pressed over Chris’. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of another soul and he hadn’t realised how badly he had missed it till now.

  A little part of him blossomed beneath the touch, he felt a little shred of himself come alive. Slowly his eyes opened and saw Chris was staring intently at him.

  “I miss him,” he whispered to the boy.

  Chris didn’t have anything to say, it would be grossly insincere if he claimed he missed Jason too. Instead he just watched the many broken pieces of this fragmented man fall around under the skin.

  Chris took the first move, gently leaning forward.

  Like a rock teetering on the edge of a cliff, Jon only needed that little push. He returned the kiss, pressing his lips against Chris’. They felt so soft and smooth beneath his own, they reminded him of Jason’s. He stopped and felt the compulsion to take the boy flush up from his balls. He felt that need to connect with a human being, to be naked and inside another person. Something to fill the void that the dead lover had left inside him.

  “I can’t…” he heard himself whisper. It wasn’t right. It didn’t feel appropriate.

  “But you should…” Chris whispered. His eyes drew Jon’s, there was something so mesmerising and
devil-like in the boy. Like the concept of temptation had come to life in flesh and bone. “Nobody should be alone,”

  Chris’ hand fell and he dropped his satchel. Next he slowly began to shed clothes. Every item of clothes was dropped with a backwards step towards the bed. He landed on the bed as his boxer shorts fell to the floor. Chris’ naked form made Jon’s dick stiffen, so lithe and beautiful. Like a marble statue with his milky skin. His lack of body hair, strong and long erection and a tease of a perfectly fuckable butt - it all made for a difficult view not to want.

  “Let’s remember him together…” Chris purred. He opened his legs and invited the older man. For a moment Chris thought Jon was going to turn away, but he didn’t. He closed in, hunger drawing him close. He reached the bed and climbed on, his lips reached Chris’ and they kissed intimately. Their tongues pressed together.

  It had been a long while since Chris had enjoyed the company of another man, the taste of Jon’s tongue made his dick stiffen further. A hand gently grazed his chest, finding a nipple and pinching it lightly. Then Jon burrowed down, pressing his tongue against the nipple and gently kneading it with his teeth. Chris hissed in pleasure. Jon turned to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Then Chris’ fingers were tugging Jon’s clothes off, he complied and shed them. The reveal of his body wasn’t disappointing, while he certainly wasn’t in perfect shape and had acquired a few pounds in places, he was decidedly normal looking. His body hair was a little overgrown; his pubic hair almost bush-like. He knelt back onto the bed having discarded his lower clothes, Chris met him and pressed his naked body up skin against skin. Their lips met and rolled together once more, Jon taking him by the hips and holding him. Chris’ hand snaked down the hairy chest and torso and found the wide, but short, erection. He made a fist around it and teased the soft silky flesh. It made Jon groan and the sound rippled in Chris’ mouth as they kissed. Then, inspired, Jon made a fist around Chris’ and the pair of them explored each other’s dicks. While Chris was definitely the better endowed of them both, it was Jon’s dick that was going to be doing the penetrating. It was a wordless agreement they’d never consciously considered. Chris came back for air, letting himself fall backwards. He landed on the bed and wrapped his thighs around Jon’s waist. Jon took the moment to slide his dick in place and grind it against Chris’ pert butt. It felt as good as he imagined it would.

  He went to double down and kiss the boy again, but Chris rolled and lifted onto his knees. He was presenting his perfect milky ass for him.

  Chris was taken by surprise when suddenly there was a warm and wet sensation pushing against his anus, he had never experienced the sensation of being rimmed before. It took a few moments to adjust, but he slowly relaxed into it. Jon’s tongue dove deep and caressed his ass with gentle flicks. Just as Chris was beginning to enjoy it, he felt the older man spit a glob of saliva in his hole. Then there was an adjusting of weight on the bed, then the old familiar sensation of dick pressing against his ring. It had been a few months since Chris had fucked, probably longer for Jon, but neither of them had forgotten the basics. Lined up and angled, the older man pushed his dick in. After a little resistance he slowly began to sink inside.

  Chris was up arching in pain in a flash, but he didn’t stop. He permitted it, he let the man continue his slide inside. “Fuck!” he whined.

  It certainly had been a long time, perhaps it wasn’t quite like riding a bike after all.

  After a second Jon’s penetration had completed and he was all the way inside. He was panting as he admired the beautiful ass that had just swallowed his entire dick.

  Chris’ ass was on fire, but it was a welcome sensation. He flexed and arched his back, before grinding backwards. Jon was not the biggest dick he’d ever taken, but he might’ve been the widest. He felt hungry for more.

  Two coarse hands took hold of his hips and slowly Jon began to slide his dick backwards. He had forgotten the deliciousness of a tight ass around his dick, he plunged his dick in deep again. The boy moaned in pleasure and crumpled.

  It inspired him to continue his slow assault, rocking his dick slowly back and forth.

  Chris could feel the act of sex tingling in his balls and he felt his dick ooze pre-cum in a long string. Again and again Jon pounded his ass and the pair of them lost their grip in the world, they fell into a world where only they existed and their sex.

  “Fuck…” Jon groaned as his body threatened to betray him and ejaculate a little too soon. He had to slow it down and had to reign back the climax that was desperately trying to explode from his balls. Chris felt the pulses and colours of the climax begin to fade from the corners of his consciousness. He could feel the desire to be fucked hard and deep command his body to hungrily greet Jon’s thrusts. He wanted more, and more.

  Chris’ ass and its fantastically tight grip was too much, he couldn’t catch himself. He felt it blow up through his balls and out of his dick before he could stop it.

  “Fuuuuuuuucck,” he groaned in a roar as his seed erupted deep inside.

  He slammed again, then trailed off a little. His cock pulsed and throbbed as he unloaded six months of abstinence directly into the young lover. His hands gripped so tight they were pinching, but Chris was groaning himself. He had felt every throb and violent pulse of the unloading. A hand suddenly appeared around his dick, then it began to jerk him off.

  Chris was powerless, he let Jon masturbate him while his dick remained hard inside his ass. It didn’t take much and then Chris was brought to his own climax. He ejaculated with a rough bark and a violent expulsion of semen on Jon’s bedding. For good measure, Jon rocked his dick and forth a little as Chris’ dick throbbed in his hand. It made the climax that much more powerful.

  And then there was nothing but the slow fade of the orgasm and the slow awakening to the realities of the sex. The smell, the sweat and the semen.

  “Fuck…” Jon whispered but it sounded ambiguous. Was it regret? Was it pleasure?

  The only answer Chris received was the uncomfortable sensation of the dick slipping out of his ass.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  Chris placed the unfinished portrait against the wall, turned away so he didn’t have to look at it. The buzz and release of the sex had left him loose and riding a wave of pleasure. It had been so long, and it had felt so good. Was that because it was wrong? Or was it because in some ways it took him back to his old self? The one who had fucked Mr Grant and enjoyed it, the one who had fucked his own half-brother…

  It had felt something of a homecoming, as absurd as it sounded. As Jon had dressed, Chris had languished in the bed and felt a sense of achievement. He had fucked the man who’s life he’d ruined, and the man knew nothing of it. It was a rather dark power-trip. Chris had watched Jon wrestle with the emotional fallout, turning for the kitchenette and anything to distract himself from the guilt he suddenly felt. It was sad that the man couldn’t accept his own sexual desires and had vilified them. In the name of a dead boy too…

  Chris sensed that Jon would no doubt wrestle over the emotional turmoil for a long while yet, but even if nothing else came from it, it meant that Chris still had the allure.

  Chris had gone to that basement, sought Jon out deliberately, just to see what kind of reaction he got. Both from Jon and himself.

  Now he was stood in his studio, hoisting a blank canvas up onto his easel. His ass was sore, but a pleasant sore. It had been a delightful week so far. The complications he’d once been afraid of had turned out to be quite invigorating, especially for his art. That task he’d been set was opening up around him.

  “Are you seriously doing homework?” Alexis’ voice was an unexpected intrusion on his thoughts and Chris turned in surprise. He was more than a little shocked to see her stood in the doorway of his studio. The cool evening rain had wetted her long blonde hair and the long black jumper she was wearing over red leggings.

  His first instinct was to be pissed that she had intruded, had arrived unannounce
d and uninvited. But he shelved it, it wasn’t very friendly after all. Yet, on the first week of their friendship, it was a bit heavy to be turning up uninvited at each other’s houses.

  Again he had that faint little hint that her intensity was a little unsettling.

  “It’s not homework, its personal…” he answered.

  “Right,” Alexis seemed disappointed that Chris was more invested in the art than she first thought. He wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t expect him to pursue art in his own time…

  “Did you want something?” it sounded ruder than he had wanted it to, but she didn’t flinch. She stepped inside the studio and ran appraising eyes over the paintings lining the walls.

  “Wow, you’re talented…” again she seemed surprised.

  Chris bristled. She turned and flashed him a warm smile, “Guess I’ve got competition hey…”

  He smiled thinly, he wasn’t so sure about that. He’d spied her artistic skills earlier in the day, he wasn’t worried. She may have the theory down pat but her execution was definitely lacking.

  She suddenly hoisted her jumper up and off, then threw it to the floor. It landed with a wet splat on the wood. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. Her small breasts were naked and the nipples extended dramatically in the cooling evening air.