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The Conquered - Chapter 4: Prisons
***** Andrew *****
I'd never admit it to anyone, but that last time with Don shook me up. Actually, the last two times with him freaked me. The second time we fucked, when he started kissing me, rubbing against me, and treating me... I don't know... special, I guess, it really threw me. Then that last time, when we were going at it so damn good, he was moaning and gripping me, it was hotter than anything else we'd ever done, but then he called me Sebastian. It was like he wasn't even there with me. I was always the center of it. The guys I fucked, they knew who it is that's doing it to them. I'd leave them in a pile of jelly, but they knew a super stud had royally fucked them.
When I left the gym that night, my body sated, but my mind lost in thought, I went home and crawled into my bed. The dreams I had that night were more like nightmares really. They were so bad; I woke up shaking and sweaty. It took several hours to go back to sleep, waking in the morning, not knowing what I had dreamt of. I never remembered them.
I was off by one degree or another all the next week. It took me the longest time to push the dreams aside and get my head on straight again. By Saturday, I'd found my center again. I was the cock of the walk, a wolf ready to prowl; I was a lean, sleek, hunky tiger ready to devour those who crossed my path.
When I got to the gym, Lee was sitting behind the counter. The best I could do was nod at him. We'd fallen out after that first night with Don. For some reason, Lee didn't want to play anymore. He'd found a big black cock to make him happy; his loss. As I was walking by, Lee reminded me that I was meeting a new client. I rolled my eyes. I'd gotten his info from Charlotte, the gym owner. This guy was a triathlete, and was looking to strengthen and balance out his body. He was more Lee's kind of client. I had no idea why the bitch wanted me to take him. I decided if he was dedicated enough to be that level of athlete, motivation wouldn't be necessary. All I needed was to know his specific goals, keep him focused, and the rest would do itself. Easy money was easy money. I didn't have to like him.
As I changed clothes, I kept thinking about what this guy might be like. Perhaps he was tall, buff, and hung like a horse. I had a feeling Don wouldn't be around for a while, again, and I was ready for some new man-meat. I could feel that stirring; that inescapable hunger to rut. I love to fuck. I love to get down and dirty and breed some hot ass. Give me a strong, beefy, hung guy, and I'd even bend over and take his meat. Good God, I'd started boning right there in the locker room. I suppose the fact that the bench I was sitting on had supported more than a few of my conquests through body-breaking orgasms was part of the reason. I slipped on my shoes, stood and adjusted, and then left for the floor, hoping that this new guy was hot, hairy, hung and into play.
About twenty minutes into shift, I saw a guy enter the gym. He was definitely my kind of guy, just an inch shy of my six-four. I'd say he was a good two-forty of beefy, hairy muscle man. His package flopped loose in his shorts and I felt the drool begin to form. He passed everyone up and headed for the locker room. I considered following him, but I didn't want to appear desperate. As I was getting ready for him to return, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around and froze.
The guy who stood before me was the opposite in every way of what I liked. He was short, about five-six and could maybe top the scales at one-forty. He had steel-rimmed glasses, shaggy brown hair, and his tank showed off a tanned but hairless chest. Somehow I knew this was my triathlete. Damn.
***** Taylor *****
God I hate gyms. It isn't the working out, the smell, or even the people that I dislike; it's the associations. Gyms reminded me of PE class in school, the bane of my young life. I couldn't believe I was back in one. I had a weight set at home, I used it regularly, I'd been on track in high school and college, and I wasn't a wimp. That didn't help the fact that I looked like a child compared to everyone else there.
The guy at the desk smiled as I came in. There was something he found funny, but I could tell he wasn't so much laughing at me as finding something about my presence amusing. I was ready for something flippant or condescending when I got to the desk to sign in, but I was pleasantly surprised.
"You must be Mr. Madison." He extended his hand and his smile was genuine. "I'm Lee."
We shook briefly, and I scribbled my name on the register. "I'm here to meet with... Andrew?"
Lee nodded. "Yep. He's one of the best." He grinned again and then leaned in, speaking in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. "Don't let his bad-ass attitude put you off. If you can get past it, establish that you're not going to fold right off, he'll get you to your goals."
I grinned. "I'm doomed, huh?"
He laughed. "Nah. You're just not his normal client. He usually gets the builders, the guys who want to get bigger and buffer, or the extreme athletes who just like to be pushed. I think you'll be more of a challenge for him than he'll be for you."
That made me smile. I could see in Lee's eyes that he wasn't playing with me. He was genuinely amused at the situation. I was about to answer when I was nearly brushed aside by a huge, behemoth of a man. I swear his dick slapped my arm through his shorts as he ignored the fact I was standing at the desk. What did he have in there, a fire hose?
I blinked a few times as the man went past, and swallowed. Why did big, hung men always make me feel like "the little woman?" That was a stupid question. It didn't matter that I wasn't a limp wrist, didn't watch decorator shows, liked football and the rest of the "macho shit"; I didn't fit the mold. I wasn't butch, I wasn't hairy, and I wasn't big. All a man ever wanted me for was to "be his bitch." I wasn't anyone's bitch. Sometimes I wished I had a little less testosterone. I probably could have used a good fucking at that point in my life; thirty-three years old, and still a virgin.
I shook my head as I stepped into the equipment area. Ok, not a virgin. I'd had several girlfriends over the years. I liked women just fine, but we always ended up as friends not "a couple". Bisexual was the guy who couldn't make up his mind. At least, that is how we're treated. I liked to think about it as "leaving my options open." I suppose, deep in the hidden recesses of my heart, I still wanted to be wrapped up in a strong pair of arms and feel safe. I don't think I've felt safe since I was twelve. No one promised life would be perfect. At least, that's what I always told the kids before helping them find ways to make life "better".
I walked into the room and looked about briefly. I spotted Andrew immediately. He stood toward the rear of the gym, his eyes following the hulk that had just gone past. I watched him for a moment. God he was huge. I'd never been a good judge of height, mainly because everyone was taller than me, but he looked like a giant. I paused in my introduction as I studied how his eyes followed the bruiser who'd gone into the locker room. I swear Andrew smacked his lips to keep from drooling.
I shuddered. I'd had that look leveled on me before, the few times I'd had the nerve to go to a gay bar. It wasn't a look of appreciation or desire to get to know someone. It was the look of raw lust. It was the look of someone who wanted one thing and usually got it. The problem with guys who looked at you that way was they didn't see you as a person; they saw you as a "score". Whenever someone looked at me like that I backed off. It wasn't that I didn't want to "go all the way", but I really wasn't in the position to take the chance. There was no way I could fight off someone like Andrew. The best I'd ever been able to do was run. I guess that's why I was so good at it; I ran physically, but it never kept up with how fast I could run inside. If that look had been leveled at me, I'd have run.
"No fear. Predators thrive on fear," I thought to myself before reaching up and getting the big ape's attention. The look of surprise on his face would have been funny, if it didn't carry with it the weight of disappointment. That clamped down any feeling of awe I might have had for his obvious dedication and hard work to sculpt his body as he had. I wasn't here for a hot fuck, and I certainly wasn't here to find a boyfriend, I was there to train. I latched down everything and went into business mode. As a counselor, I had to be able to detach myself from my clients so that I could remain objective. If I could do it with an emotional, lost kid, I could certainly do it with an arrogant, sex-hungry personal trainer. "You must be Andrew. I'm Taylor Madison."
***** Andrew *****
I gave him a cool, assessing stare, starting at his feet and raising slowly to his head. He was wearing loose, knee-length shorts that showcased thin, but very powerful legs. The man may not have been a hulking, hunky guy, but he was a wiry, strong little shit. He didn't it for me sexually, but I was impressed at his physique. I could give him that.
"Hello Taylor. My name's Andrew Jackson." When he gave me a lopsided grin, I rolled my eyes. "Yes, my parents are both patriotic and evil."
His chuckle was warm and I felt the last of my disappointment melt away. "What are you looking to gain here: strength or endurance?"
He maintained a warm, but aloof smile. "I've never failed to complete a race, my running, cycling and stamina are good, but I loose time and steam in the swimming. In foot races, I usually come in the top ten, but I haven't placed any higher than twenty-fourth in triathlons. I want to do better."
My admiration rose. Triathletes work their asses off. I know I couldn't do it. "In that case, we'll work on strength." I rubbed my chin, feeling the scrape of my late day beard stubble. "We'll put you though the gambit. That way I can get a feel for where you're at. When we're done, I'll need a list of your diet. Monday night, when you come in, I'll have a schedule and some diet recommendations."
His eyebrows rose, either in surprise or respect, I'm not sure which. I hoped it was respect, because I worked damn hard to get where I was. I liked my job and I did well at it. I chose to take it as respect. He masked whatever he was thinking and chuckled. "I wasn't expecting anything so soon. I thought that it would take a few days to determine what I needed."
I clapped him on the shoulder, surprised by the solidness that was there. Oh the man was frail compared to what I was used to, but I had a feeling that he held his own when push came to shove. "Well, if you look at that guy over there..." I pointed to Leon, a very tall, very stupid, steroid junkie looking guy. "As you can see, he has tits that would put Dolly Parton to shame, but toothpicks for legs. He refused my help and advice and now look at him. Yeah, he may have the chest that he wanted, but that's all he does."
Taylor kind of chuckled. "I definitely don't want a balcony you can do Shakespeare off of."
I rolled my eyes, laughing out right. "I promise, you may not bulk up too much, but we'll strengthen what you have, building upon it. With luck, by the next competition, we'll have you in the single digits for a finish place."
He shook my hand and I started him out. I made a note of what he could lift on each exercise. After about ninety minutes, I had more than enough information to know exactly where and how hard to work him. He did have great endurance and stamina. I took Taylor over to the desk, asking him to write out his basic meal plan, so I could get an idea of protein intake and carbohydrate cuts that could be made.
After he was done, I had expected to get a glance at the rest of my client. I'd seen him with his shirt off, we'd done all the necessary measurements, but I always took a measure of men by what was in the jock.
"You can use the showers if you like. We had a long, hard session."
He just smiled and shook his head. "No, I've still got miles to go before I rest." He got to the door and smiled, "See you Monday."
Oh well, I hadn't wanted to fuck him anyway.
***** Taylor *****
The run home gave me time to think about my first session with Andrew. Yeah, I wasn't the ordinary guy at the gym, but he didn't give me any grief. In fact, he seemed pleasantly surprised that I wasn't as "wimpy" as he had obviously thought I was when we met. No, I wasn't hairy, I wasn't built, and I wasn't big, but my body hadn't been trained for that.
Thank God he wasn't the kind of guy I'd go for. Between his obvious predatory inclinations, and his size, he'd have been a horrible choice for anything other than a professional relationship. He did know more about training than simply how to build freaky muscle and his professionalism impressed me. I was glad Lee had given me the head's up. I'd have to thank him for that.
Monday, I had just made it into the office when there was a polite, tentative knock at the door. Julia, one of my "kids" stood outside the counseling center with loss and hopelessness in her eyes.
"Mr. Madison?" Her voice was soft and tear filled, though none shown in her eyes.
"Come in, Julia. Would you like anything? I have coffee on." I knew better than to ask "what's wrong." If they came to me, it was already known something was wrong. I needed only to wait until she felt safe enough to open up.
It took her about fifteen minutes of circular discussion before the safety settled around my little office. I watched her wrestle with herself, looking at her hands, lacing her fingers in and out in agitated patterns, until the tears began to fall.
"Am I bad person?"
There was another long pause, and she whimpered. "Then why did God let him do it?" She looked up at me, looking like a lamb in the wilderness. "Why didn't he stop when I said 'no'?"
I held my face from showing any of the sadness or horror that was welling in me. With schooled practice, I held my voice calm and reassuring. "Can you tell me what happened, Julia?"
She began, and her reality seemed to contract to her telling me of Saturday night, and my being there to listen. I heard the secretaries and other staff coming in as she talked, and I pressed the "DND" button. We knew that an interruption during a counseling session could ruin the safety and trust that we work so hard to build. When the "DND" light was on, everyone knew not to knock, to hold the calls, and to be on alert.
My first two appointments were rescheduled while Julia related the events of the weekend, her relationship with the boy, and what she felt. The pain, the self-recriminations, and her attempts to justify what happened had me wanting to grab her by the shoulders and yell, "Rape is Rape, it isn't your fault!"
That never worked. I had to be there, for her, right then. I had to listen without judgment, and provide her the understanding and compassion for her to admit the truth for herself. That was so hard. The worst part was knowing that she was not my first and would not be my last victimized kid.
Julia set the tone for the rest of my day. Issues, so many issues, so much pain, so much confusion and loss; these kids needed to be heard, they needed a chance to heal, or they would grow up damaged and hurting. I made it to the gym with only a couple minutes to spare. Lee smiled at me as I entered, and Andrew looked up from the papers he had been studying at the counter.
I gave them the best smile I could muster and signed in. "Got my torture plan ready?"
Andrew eyed me while we walked onto the main floor. "You ok?"
I took a deep, cleansing breath and shrugged. "Tough day. I suppose I have some frustration to work through." Grinning, I tried to lighten the mood. "Would it be ok if I imagine the weights being a few choice individuals?"
Andrew laughed. "Sure, I do that all the time."
***** Andrew *****
I watched over Taylor, making sure he followed my plan for him. He kept the schedule I had set up for him. A few times I had to pull him back when he would try to push too hard, but I knew it was whatever he was dealing with from his day and not some need to prove himself. Basically, I just stood over him, watching out, making sure he didn't hurt himself. Like I said, Taylor was going to be easy money.
When his workout was done, I gave him his revised menu. He looked it over, agreeing with most of it. I had to tell him that it was okay to cheat from time to time. We can't all eat like we need to all the time. If we did, we'd drive ourselves nuts.
"When I cheat, I go for ice cream. No matter what I try, I can't get away from it."
He chuckled and agreed with me. "Mine is potato chips. They are so bad for you, but they call to me sometimes."
I nodded, remembering the few times the bag had called to me in the middle of the night. "Don't go out of your way to stay rigidly to the diet, but get as much protein as you can. It'll help."
"Yeah, I know. I need a lot of carbs before competition, but I'll try and be good." The haunted look was gone from his eyes at least. I wondered what had put it there, but it really was none of my business.
"Taylor, if you want, we can adjust the appointment times. If you need an extra workout or just want to run off some steam, I'm here Monday through Saturday in the evenings."
His smile of gratitude warmed me up inside, in that little place I kept hidden, deep within. I watched as he left the gym, then set to rights all that I needed to do before I could go home myself. I nodded to Lee as he looked up then headed to my car and home.
That night, I awoke about four to sweaty sheets and my own heaving breaths. Again, I couldn't remember what I had dreamt, but trying to remember caused me to break out in a cold sweat. I headed for the kitchen and grabbed the sinful pint of Ben & Jerry's I keep there for emergencies. The cool, creamy, sweet delight soothed my nerves and after I was finished, fell back asleep, hoping, praying I wouldn't dream again.
Tuesday I was off my game, but I didn't have any difficult clients. I was myself again by Wednesday. Taylor was exactly as I'd predicted. He came in, pushed hard, but not too hard, and needed little more than some pointers on form. I wished to fuck I had ten other Taylors as clients. I'd have been on easy street. Wednesday night was another bout of bad dreams that I couldn't remember. I didn't like this cycle; day on, day off.
Thursday was hell and Friday wasn't much better. I had moron clients and had a new "wannabe" body builder who was as stupid as a brick. I think my dick had more blood than his brain. I was so relieved to have sixty minutes of competent, dedicated time with a client who wasn't an idiot. Though we focused on the workout, the half-minute breaks between sets were full of interesting conversation.
I grinned at him as he headed for the door. "Do you always run here and back?"
He nodded. "The only way I could get in my cardio and add this routine. I'll be more insane about a month ahead of a race. I'll do morning and night."
I laughed. "No wonder you're so damn lean.''
He just smiled, and I realized I liked it. After another wave and a thanks Taylor left jogging at a slow, practiced pace. I closed up an hour later, remembering Taylor's workout and his warm, caring smile as he left. I went home with an odd tingling deep in my gut. I had felt it before, once. The night Don had fucked me raw on the shower floor then started kissing me; I had felt the same as I was feeling now. I didn't understand it. Why was I feeling the same way? It made me uncomfortable and itchy, like I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
After I went to bed, I slipped into a fitful sleep, filled with disturbing images. When I awoke, panting and drenched in sweat, I remembered a few of the flashes from my dreams. There was a tall, burly, hairy man over me, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me into his crotch. The smell of sweat and musky man had filled my nostrils as the stretchy fabric of the man's jock abraded my face. I couldn't stay in bed any longer; I had to get up. I walked into my bathroom, gloriously nude, as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were haunted as I saw myself, not as I am now, but as I had been. Before high school, I had been tall and lanky, spindly and thin beyond belief. I hadn't shot up to my full height until my sophomore year. As I tried to remember more, my body started shaking and I closed my eyes, trying to block it all out. The rest of the night passed with me standing on my balcony, drinking mug after mug of coffee, my eyes haunted by things I couldn't or didn't want to remember.
***** Taylor *****
Andrew was a hard ass trainer, but he wasn't a jerk. I had to admit that the combination of his "alpha male" attitude and his straight forward training techniques was exactly what I needed. Most guys took a look at me and immediately equated "small" with "weak" or "feminine". Andrew didn't treat me that way. He pushed me to the edge but didn't let me try to "macho out". I was kind of ridiculous when I went macho. Not that it was fake, but having a lean, young looking man go "alpha" wasn't what most people expected.
I came in Monday ready to go. Andrew seemed glad to see me, but something felt off. I don't know what it was; he just seemed tired or stretched thin. About half way through the session, I decided to broach the subject.
"You're looking burned, Andrew. Everything ok?"
Andrew looked at me for a moment, and I saw the "macho wall" come up. Then the "threat assessment" was done and I was designated "not a threat". The wall went down. That was one thing that I could thank my smaller size for: as a counselor, I was never considered a danger.
He shrugged. "Not been sleeping well."
Did he want to say more? There was something in his eyes that told me if the conditions were right, he probably would. There was no way to establish a safe space for a guy like Andrew in a gym. Ok, let's face it; there is no way to make a counseling space in a gym at all. What was it about someone who was hurting that drove me to find a way to help? Usually, that was simply the willingness to listen without judgment. That was one of the most important skills I'd ever learned. Thank you, Dr. Kohan, for beating that into my head in school.
The gym was fairly empty by the time we were done, and I thought I'd try again. The haunted look in the back of Andrew's eyes bothered me. "You have down that I've got a school board meeting on Wednesday, so I won't be in till Friday, right?"
Andrew flipped the training schedule and nodded. "Yeah, it's here."
"You have another client tonight?"
"No, Terence cancelled."
I knew Lee had a client until close, but with how light it was at the gym, maybe Andrew would want to duck out. "I was thinking of cheating. There's a Cold Stone ice cream shop along one of my routes home. Wouldn't care to jog over for a scoop, would you?" Quiet time, a run, and comfort food were more than enough to build some sort of safe space.
***** Andrew *****
I know I must have looked at Taylor as if he were speaking Japanese, but I couldn't help it. I had treated him with professional courtesy, a grudging admiration of his chosen sport, but mostly with a disdain, because he wasn't what I liked in a man. Hell, he wasn't even gay; at least, I was getting zero vibes from him. I sighed heavily. Taylor was a nice guy, who was trying to help. I had learned over the past few days that he was a counselor for teenagers. That set me on edge, filled me with a dread I couldn't define. At the same time though, his offer was innocent enough. He couldn't possibly know. He just couldn't.
Humbling myself into believing that I needed someone to listen was as foreign to me as what it would be like to be a woman. Taylor was no threat to me though. For the first time in my life, I felt less than whole, like there was something missing. If I could have looked into myself without flinching, I'd have realized that I never was whole, that a part of me was missing. Before my fears, masked over with a lethal dose of bravado, could stop me, I agreed.
The jog was quick and companionably silent. The entire time I watched him move. My training, my job watched him, cataloging his technique, his form. No wonder the man raced and placed. He had a fluid, graceful motion and I could tell that when he was alone on the field, he wouldn't notice anyone around him, lost in the trance of pushing himself. The pace wasn't as fast as I was used to for my heavy cardio training, but it was a nice pace. When we got to where we were going, I had a nice sheen of sweat going and only had to wait a few moments for my heart and breathing to slow.
As we waited in line, I wondered at why Taylor had made the offer. He chose something chocolate and I picked something filled with the cloyingly sweet butterscotch and toffee. We sat outside, under a palm tree and had a view of the almost full moon. As I feasted on the ice cream, I caught Taylor watching me. For a split second, I was embarrassed by my eating, but brushed it off quickly.
"What?" It only sounded mostly harsh.
Taylor chuckled. "You weren't lying when you said ice cream was a weakness for you."
I rolled my eyes, feeling something that I hadn't felt for a long time. A blush darkened my cheeks; I could feel it happening. "I've always loved ice cream, even when I was miserable and hating everything, I still loved it."
He looked strangely at me, cocking his head to the side as if watching me. "I can't picture you miserable. Hating everything, perhaps, but never miserable."
My blush got deeper. "There have been a few bad years out of the twenty-eight I've lived."
His smile was warm and genuine, open and inviting. "I'm sorry. Is that why you've been down lately?"
I shifted uncomfortably before I caught myself. "I haven't been sleeping well."
His chuckle was disconcerting. "Insomnia hits me from time to time too. Potato chips and Pepsi help me."
My voice got small, and if I weren't caught up in my memories, I'd have been embarrassed by it. "I can go to sleep, but the dreams wake me."
The very stillness of Taylor's body woke me out of the trance I was in. This was the professional counselor. This was the man who worked at the schools. For some reason, I got angry by his change. I thought for a moment... But I was wrong. We weren't friends. I stood quickly, cursing myself. I didn't have friends. I didn't need friends.
Taylor tried to stop me with words, but I simply looked over my shoulder and tossed him a line. "I'll see you Friday."
I jogged back to the gym, pushing myself harder and faster than I'd ever gone before. Once back, I got in my car and drove for a few hours. Before I knew it I was in front of Leon's house. I'd been there before, once. The steroid junkie with the ridiculously over developed chest and spindly legs had been an easy conquest. He was a total bottom who loved my thick piece of meat. I hated the man; he was everything I found repulsive. But at that moment, his ass was the only thing I cared about. I knocked and waited, seeing Leon come to the door with a robe loosely tied around him.
"Andrew, I'm not alone."
I laughed at him. "Like that's ever stopped us before."
He put his hand on my chest. "I like this guy Andrew, I don't want this."
I raised an eyebrow. "Who is he? Anyone I know?"
From the hallway, I heard a deep, grumble of, "Babe? Who is it?"
I knew that voice. He was the guy who showed up the first night that Taylor had. Mr. Firehose Cock himself. I plumped up at the thought of it. This was something I'm good at. This is safe. I know this. It isn't uncomfortable. I chuckled my reply. "It's Andrew. How about a third?"
If my conscience were at all engaged at the moment, I would have felt pity for the sad look on Leon's face when his lover agreed. If I weren't running away, I'd have noticed that neither were into what was happening. If I weren't a total bastard, I'd have gotten the hell out of there. If I weren't a coward, I'd have faced my own hurts, rather than creating new ones.
Mr. Fire hose Cock was lying on the bed, hard and drooling, his cock shiny from saliva. He shot me a lustful, appreciative leer as I peeled off my clothes, and dropped my jock so that my hard cock slapped against my belly. Oh yeah, Fire hose was interested.
Leon went to move past me, but I grabbed him. "Where are you going?" I pushed him onto his knees, rubbing his face down my furry muscle and guiding his surprised mouth to my swollen prick. Leon was a total bottom, no challenge at all. He swallowed me dutifully and I got into the rhythm of sex. I watched the fire hose drip some more and I shot him a smirk of pure sexual prowess.
When I was wet enough, feeling my rhythm and confidence building, I pulled out of Leon's mouth, letting my drool prick and his saliva slap his face before I let go of his head. Grabbing Leon's over developed tits, I pulled him up as he caught his breath and I pushed him away. He landed on the bed with a grunt, his head so close to Fire hose that he could have licked his thigh.
"Let's give this bottom what he wants," I grunted at Hose as I grabbed Leon behind the knees, spread him like a wish bone and thrust my face into his crack. His hole spasmed as I dove in with my tongue. After some heavy reaming, Leon's groans were muffled by Hose's huge dick. Standing up, I impaled Leon, causing him to cry out against the dick in his throat, and letting Hose sink all the way in. Oh yeah, this was sex.
I fucked Leon hard, I knew he loved it that way. I watched Hose hunker down and swallow Leon's dick while getting into a slow, smooth, almost tender rhythm with his own thrusts. They were nothing like my hard, heavy assault on the boy's ass. That threw me off. We were supposed to be sandwiching the fucker, but Hose wasn't going there. In fact, other than causing Leon to quake, it was almost like I wasn't there.
Yanking out, I walked around the bed while Hose had his mouth full, his dick worshipped and his eyes closed. His ass was up and ripe for the taking, and I was going to pick that cherry. He lost his rhythm was I pried open his cheeks and sank face first into what I suspected was virgin territory. Leon never topped, so I bet Hose hadn't had a good man fucking, at least not from his bottom boy.
His hole was tight and resisted my tongue, but no one can last that long against me. Hose moaned around Leon's cock and began to thrust more haphazardly. He was so fucking tight, and this was obviously new. I couldn't make up my mind if he was trying to flex back against my tongue or trying to rapid fuck his boy toy. His body went stiff when I pulled off, grabbed him by the hips and thrust against that tight, muscle hole.
His first "oh fuck" was strangled by Leon's pole as I slid in, not easily, but no one had ever stopped me. His mouth was off Leon's dick and he was cursing at me between gasps.
"I'm not a fucking bottom..."
I slammed in, driving myself to the base and causing him to fall face first against Leon's hips.
"You are now," I snarled. I didn't give a fuck what he thought he was his ass was mine.
He was trapped. He couldn't buck me off because he was twelve inches down Leon's throat. After a few ass busting slams, I began hearing him whimper and moan as I pushed him further and harder. This was my domain. No one was my top, but damn if I couldn't make any top a bottom. I felt Leon slide out from under Hose. I grinned at him as he shot me an angry glare. I didn't care; his man's ass was mine. With a satisfied smirk, I closed my eyes and began to thrust harder, forcing Hose to cry out, his body giving into his new role. He was whimpering and mumbling, "oh god, fuck..." and groaning as I drove against his blow-button.
I was pumping away, lost to the sensations, when Hoses moans and groans were muffled. His thrusting back against me slowed. His still defiant ass relaxed and his hips began a kind of swiveling motion. It wasn't to grind against me. My eyes snapped open. Leon was under Hose. They were pressed together, hips grinding in a rhythm that had nothing to do with me, and they were kissing.
My concentration shattered. For the second time, I was fucking someone who wasn't into me. I'd simply been added stimulation. At that moment, I realized that it hadn't even been that good. All I'd done was found a couple holes to plug. It was sex and it was brainless, but now I couldn't stop thinking. I was too into it to pull out and go away, but I didn't want it anymore. This wasn't anything. I'd claimed an ass, but it didn't fucking count. I sped up my thrusts, pushing harder, not giving a shit if the Hose got off or not. I felt the end, the tingles along my spine, but it was nothing, I might as well have been jerking off. Hose's hole clamped around me, adding that little bit I needed to blow. I didn't give a shit that I'd taken that top and force a load out of him by fucking him raw. I blasted my cum up his ass, I got off, but I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Neither man cared shit about me. Not like Taylor had tried to do.
I got up and dressed, looking at the men before me as they cuddled against each other. Hose was still trembling from it all, his face buried in Leon's neck. His brain was blown. Hell, his whole idea of whether he was top or bottom was probably shot to hell. I couldn't bring myself to apologize, but I couldn't leave it like that either. I racked my brain for something to say, anything. "I think you guys make a cute couple. I'll put the word out to leave you alone."
For my effort, I got a tremulous smile from Leon and middle finger from the Hose. I left totally unsatisfied. My balls were drained, but there was something empty inside me. The dreams that night just got worse.
***** Taylor *****
"Andrew, wait!" I tried to stop him. I certainly couldn't have done so physically.
The look he gave me wasn't cold. I think it was meant to be harsh, but what I saw was hurt, disappointment and a good dose of fear being masked by anger. That stopped me.
"I'll see you on Friday."
I watched Andrew run away. It wasn't the physical speed he put into his jog down the street, but the way he escaped inwardly that had me stunned. What had just happened? I picked up his discarded ice cream and tossed both the unfinished cones in the trash. I wasn't much for sweets. Damn I wanted a bag of chips.
I had no idea what to expect when I got to the gym Friday night. There were two guys talking with Lee when I came in, and Lee waved me over. The taller guy reminded me somewhat of Andrew, though he was a pared down, more balanced version. The other guy was a lean latin man. He looked like he'd been in an accident, but was attractive in a swarthy, classic way.
"Hey, Taylor, this is my friend Don and his partner Sebastian." Lee was grinning from ear to ear. His happy tone and bright eyes lightened my mood.
"Hi, nice to meet you." Don shook the hand I offered and then slid his arm around Sebastian's waist. It didn't look like a practiced move. Sebastian seemed surprised, looking briefly at Don, who had a sincere but tight smile, and then melted into Don after a moment.
"Nice to meet you, Taylor." Sebastian looked almost dreamy.
Damn. I wanted to be where he was. Not that I had a thing for the man holding him, but something about the feeling of trust and safety that radiated from that simple act had my mouth going dry. What was even more amazing was that the feeling between them seemed mutual.
I was about to say something when Andrew came in. The look on his face as his eyes met Don's was something I'd never have expected to see on a man his size. I swear it looked like he'd shrunk in upon himself and there was nothing there but the shell of Andrew.
"Hey, Andrew, think you can cover for me and close up? My client cancelled, and I'd like to take Don and Sebastian out for dinner to congratulate them." I don't think Lee really saw how those words affect the three men.
Don looked guilty. Sebastian looked uncomfortable while pressing in a little closer to his man. Andrew looked like someone had kicked him in the gut.
"Yeah, sure." I could see the walls going up around Andrew as he flashed a tight smile at Don. "Congratulations."
I could see Don wanted to say more, but he didn't. His grip on Sebastian seemed almost desperate and he looked hastily at Lee. "We'll go get a table at Mick's. Why don't you see if Tyron is available? I'd like Seb to meet him."
Lee grinned as he picked up his gym back. "Way ahead of you." He pressed the walkie-talkie feature of his Nextel and wiggled his eyebrows. "Rice eater to black battering ram... you got your ears on?"
The beep back was just as raunchily cutesy. I don't think I could ever be that cutesy. I'm not into cutesy. Still, Lee had someone. That was more than I could claim. Its weird how quickly one can feel like the odd man out.
Andrew looked at me as he hefted his bag over the counter. "Give me a minute to hit the locker room, Taylor, and we'll get started."
I nodded as he retreated to the back. No one else seemed to notice his rush to get out of the area. Lee clapped me on the shoulder as he went past. "Have a good workout."
Suddenly, I wasn't looking forward to what was to come.
***** Andrew *****
Ever since I left Leon's house, I had hardly slept at all. Whenever absolute exhaustion overtook me, all I had were nightmares; each one getting worse than the one before it. As I pulled my truck up to the gym, I seriously considered packing it in and calling in sick. I felt ashamed by how I treated Taylor Monday night. He'd only tried to help me, and I shut him down. Not that I wanted to talk about all this crap, but he'd honestly and openly tried to be there for me. That wasn't something I was used to.
I was running through my head all the things I could say to Taylor to apologize when I opened the door and saw Don. God that man made me sweat. But his arm was around the waist of this thin, short Latin man. Somehow I knew that this was Sebastian. My ego flared and I railed at the idea that he could have chosen him over me. I tamped it all down, schooling myself as I offered them my congratulations. I quickly beat it to the gym, where my mind and body could process the shock.
As I stripped off my clothes, I stared down the row to the bench where I'd last fucked Don. My cock started to stir at the memory of how good the sex was. It was all sobered up when I remembered the look in his eyes as he stood next to Sebastian at the door. No one had ever looked at me like that. I was jealous. Don's the first and only man I'd ever kissed. Being weak like this pissed me off. I denied it. I fought it. I cursed Don and Sebastian. Fuck Lee. Fuck Leon. To hell with all of them. I didn't need shit. I was strong, buff, hung and could fuck all night and into the morning. Any ass is mine once I snapped my fingers. Before that last time with Don, I'd have believed it.
I went out onto the gym floor to find Taylor into his second set of benches. Right then and there, I decided I needed to blank my mind and I followed him through his workout. I could out lift, out bench, out press in everything that Taylor did, but this wasn't about competition. Christ, I felt like I was preening.
By the time we got through the last exercise, my body felt limber, my mind relaxed a bit and I felt in control again. At least I felt that way, until Taylor tried to talk to me. His calm, warm manner and easygoing attitude slipped under my walls so damn easily, that he made me uncomfortable. I just didn't want to face what we did last time. I was really beginning to value Taylor as a friend.
"Andrew? You looked a little shell-shocked earlier."
I was both surprised and irritated. No one else saw how I was feeling. "It just threw me, you know?"
His smile was so damn warm, inviting me to open up. "Yeah, I guess I do, a bit."
I sort of snorted out a laugh. "Sorry. Thank you for being concerned, Taylor."
He chuckled. "You're welcome. You look like you could use a drink."
I know I looked embarrassed when I answered him. Except for a glass of champagne at my sister's wedding, I'd never even had a drink before. The idea had merit, especially if all I'd seen and read about it were true and it could help me sleep. "Sure. Sounds good. Any place in particular?"
Taylor's answer was a bit of a shrug. "Well, I usually go to this place near my house. Unless you have a favorite hangout?"
Taylor saw me way too easily; I wasn't about to appear like a fag and start wearing my heart on my sleeve. So what if I'd never had a drink before. I almost backed out, hating the vulnerable feeling. Then I thought about the dreams... Fuck it! "That place sounds fine. I should shower first, unless they like the smell of sweat to fill the place?"
He looked uncomfortable for a minute. "You're right, I should shower too."
I wondered what his problem was; it was just a shower for Christ's sake. Every vibe I got from him was straight. Hell, he'd have to blip as curious before I'd even look twice at him. Not only that, but he wasn't my type in any way. "It's just the two of us this late. We'll grab a quick shower, and then off we go."
After a shower, in which I only got a brief glimpse of Taylor and didn't at all try to strut my stuff, we left in my truck and drove a few miles to a bar. The place was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was dark, smoke-filled and had maybe ten people total in it. The music was awful, but I wasn't Martha Stewart. I just wanted a drink, something to make me mellow and go to sleep.
A rather tired looking, bored woman came over to our table and asked what we wanted. I knew I wouldn't want beer. Wine was way to fag inspiring. Something hard, but tempered by sweet, I knew I'd never get it down if I didn't. When she asked what I wanted, I told her the first thing I could think of. "Vodka and cranberry juice, please."
Taylor ordered a beer and after our drinks were delivered, I picked mine up and took a big gulp. The vodka only made the cranberry juice a bit bitterer. After it had burned down my throat, my whole chest seemed to be on fire. I downed the rest of the drink and another was placed before me within a few minutes. I downed that one too. It was after I had drunk the fourth that I realized what it was about alcohol. This warm flush spread throughout my whole body, making my arms and legs tingly and heavy feeling. When they brought the fifth drink to me, I realized that I didn't like feeling this way. I was out of control. I couldn't control myself. My emotions took off in every direction and before I could stop myself, all the dreams came back to me, dredging me through the images. I was mortified but powerless to stop it when I felt my eyes fill with tears.
I looked over at Taylor who had been watching me down drink after drink while only sipping his beer. I blinked my eyes, to try and stop his face from swaying before me. I could have died when I realized that a tear had fallen down my face. "I shouldn't have done this Taylor. I've never drunk before. Drank. Drunk. Drinked. Whatever the hell word it is."
Taylor sat up straight and looked in my eyes. "Oh shit..."
***** Taylor *****
Shower at the gym? Alone? With Mr. Sex? Nightmare images came to mind as he waited for me to answer. Ok, not just nightmare images. They were violent and harsh, but they were also hot as hell. For a moment I had an image of being pressed against the tiled walls of a shower stall, helpless and being fucked by the man before me. What about that both terrified and excited me?
"You're right, I should shower too."
I followed him in, took the fastest shower of my adult life, and was back in my clothes before he'd finished rinsing off. Not that I'd looked, not really, but the shower curtains weren't in the best shape and with a guy as big as Andrew it was hard not to notice him. Fuck, the man was huge, and I wasn't talking about the wall of muscle that was his back or the milk jug arms. I could never be with a guy his size. He'd tear me in two.
I shook myself out of those thoughts. I wasn't lusting, and, thankfully, Andrew had made it clear I wasn't his type. There was a part of me that wondered why I would assume I'd be the bottom if I ever slept with a man. I wasn't hung like the Clydesdale washing himself in the stall, but I was average. Hell, I was the high side of average. My dick was the one thing that didn't come "packaged -small- for your convenience".
I managed not to shudder as Andrew came out. He wasn't showing off, but was just a man used to being in a locker room and not having to worry. I'd never been that comfortable. Well, comfortable in a situation like that at least.
I took Andrew to O'Brian's. It was a little, dingy, neighborhood pub, but the place was clean and the drinks weren't overpriced. I hadn't pictured Andrew to be a vodka and cranberry kind of guy. I'd expected him to drink Miller or Schlitz, or, in the right situation, maybe a scotch on the rocks. Hell, I liked to nurse a class of scotch every so often. I sipped my "black and tan" while Andrew slammed back a second, then a third, and a forth. What the fuck was he doing?
It was after the fifth that it appeared to hit him. I don't mean sink in, or catch up. I mean that the vodka walked up like a Russian mafia hitman and beat Andrew with a baseball bat. For all his anger, walls and strength, I'd expected him to be a loud drunk. I'd expected to have to listen to him vent and rage. That was why I'd only been nursing my one drink: I wanted to keep a cool head.
I watched the first tear slip down his cheek and drip off his chin. I think the contrast of it, the softness and stillness of it, held me frozen. I'd never expected Andrew to cry.
"I shouldn't have done this Taylor. I've never drunk before. Drank. Drunk. Drinked. Whatever the hell word it is." His words were a bit drawn together. He wasn't slurring, but he was definitely beginning to feel the alcohol.
Realizing that he was just at the beginning of it, I straightened up. I didn't think Andrew wanted a public scene. Right then, he could move and function under his own power. There was no possible way I would be able to get a falling down, pissing drunk Andrew anywhere. I reached across the table and squeezed his bicep. Fuck it was huge, and warm, and trembled ever so subtly in my grip, and was too damn distracting. I had other things to worry about.
"Want to go get something to eat?"
Andrew blinked and looked confused. "I thought they'd have food here."
I smiled. "I drink here, but I wouldn't eat here." Trying to put calm comfort into my voice, I pushed his bicep a little. He'd never accept me telling him what to do. Even drunk, he was still a 'big bad alpha male'. I swallowed my pride and made it sound like something I needed. "Come on, I'd be more comfortable at my place."
That sobered him for a moment. Yeah, he had the definite "alpha" reaction to a smaller guy needing something. I sighed inwardly as I became the "little woman" at the table. Thank God I wasn't taking him home for sex.
"It's probably all fried crap here anyway... and I've already had my cheat for the week."
We'd taken Andrew's truck to the bar, but there was no way I was letting him drive. That was another dose of pride swallowing I had to do, but he bought it and walked me back to my apartment. God, if he thought I was gay I'd have been doomed. The man would have assumed I was making a pass and there was no way I could have stopped him.
"Damn, nice place."
It was all the comment he made as he followed me in and proceeded to wander the main room. I lived in the bottom level of a three level condo. My weights were out on the patio, which drew him like a magnet. He eyed them through the doors while I poured us some water. There was no way to stop the alcohol, but if I hydrated him his hangover wouldn't be quite as bad in the morning. A virgin; I had a damn bar-virgin on my hands. That was something I'd never expected. I handed him a big, plastic cup and took a sip of mine.
"Why don't you take a seat while I fix something? Any allergies?"
He shook his head and I could see him sway from it. That wasn't a good sign. What if he got sick? Hell, I'd handled sick drunks back in my fraternity days. I could handle him if I had to. After a moment, he settled onto the couch and I went into the kitchen to find something "safe".
I'd just finished putting some pasta on to boil when Andrew called from the couch. "Who's this?"
The "who" was a bit elongated, but not terribly stretched. I came back in, wiping off my hands from the chicken I'd chopped, and saw Andrew leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, and he was flipping through the photo album on the table. I cringed. It was the album my mother had dropped by last week.
I tried not to sound nervous. Mom was one of those women who loved to "scrap book". She had them of my baby pictures, my racing shots, my school pictures, my summer vacations. Yeah, I'm an only child. The latest one was done up very sleek and sophisticated. That was how she'd felt about my modeling career. No, I wasn't a big time model, but my delicate features and youthful appearance paid my way through college and set me up a good portfolio so that I could work as a public servant without having to worry about living hand to mouth.
"Damn." Again, it was drawn out and almost breathy. He looked up and gave me a sexy grin. When he wasn't trying to be the cock of the walk, Andrew had a knee-melting smile. I was fortunate my legs didn't give out. "Not my type, but it's a shame you're not gay. You'd have made some man happy."
That doused the warm fuzzies for me. That was exactly why I hadn't given in to my other side. I wasn't going to be anyone's "boy toy". The rage filled me, only for a moment, but the injustice of my sexuality hit hard. I think Andrew saw it, at least for a second, because he actually flinched.
"Maybe I should go." He started to get up, unsteadily, but I snapped at him.
"Give me a break, Andrew. Just because I'm not going to be some man's bitch doesn't mean I have a problem with you being gay."
He hit the cushions and he dropped his head. "I'm not anyone's bitch."
I snorted. Why was I getting pissed? Where was the detached therapist when I needed him? "No, you just have a kennel of them."
The hurt look he shot me, as his eyes watering, made me regret my lashing out at him. "I never wanted that..." Oh god, the dam was breaking. "I never wanted that..." His voice was getting so small.
I got up, moved the scrapbook aside, and sat down on the coffee table. I just held his eyes, watching them pool and spill over with tears. The pain behind them was almost impossible to face. What the fuck was he going through?
"I know..." The thing was, I did know. I could see back into the darkness of his eyes. I didn't know what was in there, but I could see that Andrew had never wanted what ever it was that was haunting him.
He dropped his head, but the tears were more pronounced and he was beginning to sob. "He called out that little bastard's name."
I tried to process what he was saying.
I almost couldn't hear him through the choked voice and the sobs. "I thought he wanted me..."
How do you hold a guy who's a hundred pounds heavier and like a foot taller than you? How do you comfort someone who's so big that he could break you over his knee? I wrapped my arms around his head and he cried into my chest. Actually, he ended up pulling me off the table and crushing me to his face. I think I was just a huge, human Kleenex.
When his sobbing eased, and he'd let me go, he looked at me with a pitiful, confused expression.
"I don't feel good."
I managed to catch most of the return trip of his first drinking excursion in the trashcan I kept next to the couch. I didn't manage to get him over it very well though, so part of his shirt, pants, and my rug were pretty rank. Cranberry juice is a bitch to clean up. Especially cranberry juice mixed with stomach acid.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry." He kept mumbling it between dry heaves. God but big men were wimps when they got ill. I guess it was God's way of balancing things out.
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
The trip twenty feet from the couch to the bedroom was almost comical. If I'd been bigger, or Andrew had been smaller, we'd have been fine. Instead, it was like leading a drugged elephant through a crystal shop. I got Andrew to the bed... on his back... and got off his sneakers and socks. The pants were more difficult. He was mumbling about my "being so nice", but was quickly becoming both unintelligible and like a sack of potatoes. I managed to remove his soiled pants and then his shirt, and tossed the shit in the hamper before I actually stopped to look at him.
He was so damn huge. I couldn't stop myself from brushing a stray hair from his brow and then letting my fingers linger on his chest before I snapped out of it and pulled the blanket over him. It wasn't the raw, sexual, hairy man that I was touching. At that moment, with his defenses washed away by alcohol and tears, I could see a hurting kid in that huge body. What had hurt him I didn't know, but he hadn't had someone like me when he'd needed it. He was what my kids would become if I wasn't able to help them. I felt a tear rolling down my cheek, and I touched his face before whispering, "You're safe... I won't let them hurt you again."
How many times had I promised that to the kids who came to me? Why hadn't anyone done it for him? I knew I couldn't save everyone. Hell, he was only a few years younger than I was, but that didn't stop "Mother Theresa" from rising up and marching right into the situation. There was no way I could save Andrew, but I could be there if he needed it. Everyone deserved that.
I started the wash and made it back into the kitchen in time to keep the pasta from boiling out completely. I eyed the sticky, starchy mess and groaned, "I wasn't hungry anyway," before tossing the pan in the sink and leaving it for the morning.
All of a sudden I was very, very tired. I suppose being there for Andrew's emotional joy ride was a bit more than I'd been ready for. I wanted to hate Don, but I found I couldn't. It was obvious that Andrew was in love with or had been falling in love with the man. It wasn't hard to see why. Don was a very attractive man, and the impression I got from him for the brief time we'd met had told me he was a sincere, honest one. What ever had happened, I think there was a lot more going on than Andrew knew about.
I stayed awake, thumbing through the pictures that had captured Andrew's attention, while I waited to put the clothes in the dryer. I studied the photos, looking at them as objectively as anyone who doesn't like his appearance can. Ok, I'd been beautiful. Hell, I probably still was. Well, I would be if I chose to look that way. I was comfortable with my over long, mop of hair. I liked wearing my glasses instead of the contacts. I liked not having to worry about looking good, or being presentable. Not to mention, looking less than perfect made me more accessible to the kids.
I got the clothes into the dryer and went back to the bedroom to retrieve a blanket and pillow. There was no way Andrew would fit into anything I owned, so I had to have his stuff ready for when he woke up. I stopped by and looked at him again. Andrew had rolled onto his side and was curled tightly around a pillow. It made him look so young, so vulnerable. For all that muscle, he was just a scared kid. Something about that made my heart skip a beat. He needed someone, anyone, with whom he could feel safe. I hoped I could be a good enough friend to be that for him.
I took my pillow and blanket to the couch, stripped to my briefs and stretched out on the cushions. I didn't mind. I'd bought the couch because I had a tendency to fall asleep reading, and it made sense to have a comfortable couch. I think I preferred it to my bed. Of course, my bed was only a double, but it still felt too big for me. It would never work for a guy like Andrew. I think if he was stretched out on it his feet would dangle off the bottom. That image was both endearing and pitiful. Somehow it fit Andrew perfectly; over sized, hurting and out of place described the man in my bed. I chuckled at the ridiculousness of the thought; I'd never had a man in my bed before.