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The Conquered - Chapter 7: Pain & Fear

***** Andrew *****

I woke long before dawn, my cheeks wet with tears. I had been dreaming again, but instead of the sweaty, musty smell of a locker room, all I could scent was Taylor's hair. Someway, somehow, the closeness and familiarity of him kept the horrors at bay. I was still pushed against the bench and ripped apart, but I was only the observer, rather than the participant.

When the coach had done with me, he'd pulled out and grabbed my chin, pulling my eyes to his. I saw his dick, slimy with brown shit, white cum and blood. My whole body had shuddered at what he'd done to me. When I looked in his eyes, his voice was commanding, dominant, and hard. "It never happened."

I'd forgotten it all. His words, his harsh, forceful words had pushed it all away. Now I understood why my mother had started worrying so much that fall. I understood why I had built myself up to be big and strong. Even if I didn't remember, I still made sure that I would never again be weak. Never again would I be at someone's mercy. The tears continued to fall, but this time slowly, quietly. The urgency and pure terror of the past few days was waning, leaving me raw but less panicked. My arms tightened around Taylor, pulling him closer to me. I burrowed my nose in his hair and inhaling deeply, taking his scent in, calming me further.

My hand strummed along his chest, from sternum to belly. His ass fit so comfortably against my lap, the backs of his knees rested so well to my own. I'd never know how he knew to find me. I'd probably never know what it was he saw when he got here, but I was forever grateful that he did. I've never had a friend before; perhaps a child hood chum, a playmate, but not a true friend. No one who would come to my rescue with just a phone call, but Taylor had found me. He'd rescued me.

The tears formed again as I pulled away, rolling him gently onto his back, and stared at the long lashes fanned against his cheeks. My hand moved on its own, stroking his cheek as the tears dammed up into a soft sob. All my life I'd wanted someone who understood me, who saw beyond the gruff bravado to the scared, hurting person beneath. Not only did he see past my walls, I didn't feel the need to keep them up with him.

Beyond desperately, I wanted to kiss him, take his lips with mine and pour everything I felt into it. My self-enforced abstinence didn't play into this. The desire had nothing to do with sex. I wanted to give him so much; everything I felt, everything I was, everything I could be. Yes, I was attracted to him. Finally, seeing beyond what I'd told myself I could have and what I should want, I realized was incredibly attracted to him. My heart raced, my breath rapid, but my body was only slightly aroused. If I knew that he would welcome my kiss, I'd have been as hard as fucking stone.

With my hand against his cheek, half my body on top of his, and with this primal need to kiss him, to show him how I felt, my mind clicked in and I realized what I felt. Unfamiliar emotions swamped me as I lowered my forehead to his. The tears fell anew, slowly, gently. It couldn't be true. It was impossible.

The slow trailing hand up my belly and chest caused my breath to hitch, but I refused to give in to the shudder my body begged for. I raised my head to see Taylor, wide-awake, staring at me. Not knowing what to do, I slowly pulled away until I was lying on my side, facing him. Six months ago, straight or not, I'd have been fucking Taylor senseless. Now... now I couldn't do that. He wasn't a fuck. He was everything.

"How long have you been awake, Andrew?"

"A few minutes."

His hand reached out, touching the tear tracks along my face. "How are you?"

"Honestly? I don't know." From that point forward, there would be nothing between us. Somehow I knew it deep in my heart that I would never put those walls back up. "Sad. Hurt. Confused. Angry. Sorry." The last word was the hardest, but I said it anyway. "Pathetic."

"That's all normal. And you are not pathetic."

The words were spoken so strongly, with so much feeling to them, that I believed him. "I'm really raw though. I think it'll just take a lot of time."

His smile was delicate, almost timid. "If you need someone to talk to..."

My smile was very fast in crossing my face. "I know, Taylor. I have a feeling you'd do just about anything for me; including hunting down my address."

He looked chagrined and a bit embarrassed. "I had to find you."

The tears welled in my eyes again. I didn't want them to, but his words said so much, made me feel so much. That urge to kiss him came back. I needed to share with him... I couldn't. "Thanks." Fuck, I could never think of what to say. Never.

His hand on my face was all I needed. When he looked over at the bedside clock and saw that it was a little after six, it clicked in my head. "Oh shit! The race. Fuck! What do we need to do to get you ready?"

His chuckle stopped me. "It's okay. I packed up last night before heading to the gym. I'm all ready to go. I just need to know how long it'll take to get to the lake from here."

"Actually, we're not that far, maybe twenty minutes."

He yawned. "Good. Now I can get another half hour sleep before I go."


He looked at me and blinked. "What?"

"We. We're going."

His smile was so emotion filled. "You don't have to. After everything—"

I put my hand over his mouth. "I'm going. You've been there for me for so much. Let me be there for you." I grinned, but I was also kind of unsure. "Isn't that what friends do for each other?"

He swallowed before nodding. I slipped out of bed and told him I'd be back in a half hour to wake him. I went downstairs and straightened up the kitchen, cleaned up the coffee mess and turned off the last of the lights that had been left on.

When Taylor was up and dressed, we got in his SUV and drove to the lake. Even though I knew I'd only see Taylor during the swimming portion and the changeover to bikes or jogging, I wasn't going to go anywhere. My friend was racing, and I'd help him get here. Wild horses couldn't have dragged me away. As the starter's gun fired, I stared after him, running into the water, feeling my heart fill me, pride and affection, tenderness and possessiveness flood into my body. Now all I could do was wait.

***** Taylor *****

I don't know what I'd have done if Andrew had been hurt or worse when I found him. The thought had crossed my mind a few times before I'd gotten there, and a few times before I was able to get to sleep in his arms. It was disconcerting and almost painful to wake up with him watching me with tears in his eyes. All I wanted to do was to hug him and tell him it was okay.

Andrew hefted my bike out of the back of the SUV while I checked in at registration and got my number. I caught sight of Becca as I headed back.

"Hey, beautiful. You're looking ready to cut through some water."

Becca turned and grinned. "Well, don't get in my way. Water isn't your element, Taylor. I'd hate to drown you to get past."


"Every chance I get." She laughed, kissing me on the cheek. She eyed Andrew as we came around the cars. "I see you have your own cheering section."

I laughed. "Hey, he's put a lot of hard work into this. It's only fair he gets to see if the results were worth it."

Andrew had an odd look on his face as we came over to retrieve the bike and the bag with my shoes and such.


He blinked. "Nothing," he said, and then smiled at Becca, "you're looking ready to swim."

She winked. "So does model-boy here. In fact, you should convince him to go back into underwear modeling. Make some money off all that hard work."

I blushed, and Andrew grinned. "I'm just his trainer, not his agent."

"Oh, both of you shut up. I don't need this shit." Even though my cheeks were burning, Andrew's grin made it all okay.

"Get your ass over to the water, Mr. Madison."

Like a well trained poodle, I did what I was told.

The starting gun sent us into the meditation of the triathlon. I thought of it as a moving meditation because I'd to go into a trance. My focus narrowed to movement, breathing, and the drive to keep going. I didn't even really notice the other people racing. Sure, they were there and I as aware enough to not run, bike or swim into them, but beyond that they were simply scenery I ignored.

I really didn't come out of the groove until nearly two hours later, stopping after crossing the finish line, and finding myself lifted off my feet in an enthusiastic hug!

"You were fucking amazing!" Andrew swung me around once as he cheered. "Fifth Place!"

I blinked, trying to catch my breath. The asshole thought I was just over heated, so he took a water bottle and doused me. I sputtered and laughed, snapping completely out of the space I get into when I ran.

"Fifth?" Andrew spun me about again as I pumped my fists in the air enthusiastically. "Yeah!"

I looked back at my trainer, friend, and now cheerleader and time seemed to stand still. He had that look in his eyes again, the one he had earlier, but it was a hell of a lot more powerful. Fuck. I was trembling. All I wanted to do was kiss him. Not just kiss him; I wanted to suck out his tonsils, right there, at the finish line. Shit, I wanted to fuck. I beginning to shake, even worse, I was getting hard. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I had to get out of his arms.

I think I ejected from his arms as much as I was almost tossed to the ground. We didn't break eye contact, and I swear Andrew was looking past all the defenses and blocks I'd put up. What the fuck was I going to do? I did what I'd done all my life. I ran. Not that I physically ran away, but I ran to some dark, safe corner in my head and went on autopilot.

Since I hadn't placed in the top four, I didn't have to stay for any awards or ceremonies. I think I said thank you to the congratulations that were offered, I'm not really sure, but I know we were back in the SUV and pulling up in front of Andrew's before I realized it.

I don't think we'd said a word the whole ride back. I was still sweating, and I knew it wasn't from the race. Fuck, I couldn't even meet his eyes.

"I'll see you Monday?"

Andrew didn't answer for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "Yeah, same as usual."

I couldn't just let him get out without knowing how much our friendship meant. I just didn't know how. I looked at him and I felt like his eyes were like gravity wells. How I didn't just lean across the console and kiss him I had no idea.

"Thanks, Andrew. I mean it more than just being an awesome trainer. You're a good friend too."

He smiled and nodded. I swear his eyes were moist.

"I'll see you Monday." He blinked away whatever else he was thinking and grinned. "Be there or I'll have to hunt you down and kick your ass."

I laughed. Admittedly, it was a weak laugh, choked by the conflict I was feeling. I gave him a heartfelt, probably love-sick, smile.

"I promise."

He got out of the car and stood in the drive as I drove away. Why the fuck did it feel like I was breaking up with a lover? I couldn't get how it felt to sleep in his arms last night, or when he had me up in a victory hug this morning, out of my mind. All I wanted to do was go back and bury myself in all that hairy muscle and never come out.

I spent the afternoon and evening trying to do anything but think of Andrew. I tuned up my bike. I washed clothes. I prepared meal packets for next week. I finally found myself looking in the mirror, clean shaven, and realized my ass was twitching. I hadn't had sex, other than with my hand, in over a year. I also knew I didn't want a woman. I needed a man; I needed to be fucked before I fucked up one of the closest friendships I'd ever had.

I couldn't believe I was going through my wardrobe looking for "fuck me" clothes. I wasn't some desperate fag boy needing a top. A part of me knew I was lying to myself. Sure, I wasn't a limp-wristed fag, but I was definitely looking for a top.

Wearing a crushed velvet, burgundy club shirt and ass hugging black chinos, with my hair slicked back, and glasses left on the dresser, I found myself outside Mustang with a sense of dread eating at my gut. Mustang was the meat market of the local gay scene. If you couldn't get laid there, you were either dead or a total loser. I fucking hated clubs like this, but I wasn't there to find a lover... I was there to get fucked. I had to get it done before I chickened out, or worse, made a pass at my best friend.

I steeled my will and swallowed my pride. With determination, I wove my way around the guys milling about outside, eyeing me like a fresh piece of meat, and headed for the door. It opened just as I was about to go in, and I slammed nose first into a wall of muscle clad in jeans and a white wife beater with a basic plaid shirt draped from his shoulders.

I looked up, about to apologize, and froze. Andrew was looking down at me, looking as stunned as I was. This time I did run. Not that I got very far. There were certain advantages a man with longer legs had over a guy like me. In the short sprints, he could cover more ground.

Andrew caught my arm. It felt like he could have held the world in that grip. It wasn't painful, but it brooked no resistance. I looked up at him, my legs going to goop.

"Andrew, I..."

I didn't get to say what ever I was going to say. Before I realized what was happening, he had me hefted up against him by an ass cheek while his lips begged mine for entrance. I couldn't stop the moan that rose from where his hand gripped my ass. His tongue slipped past my teeth to graze mine. I don't know how long we stood there, me up against him with my fingers tangled in his hair, and his hands holding me to him by my ass and the back of my head.

When we finally came up for air, I was shaking like a leaf. He had me, we both knew it, and now the only question was what he planned to do with me. I looked in his eyes, trying to swallow my emotion and fear, but I couldn't. With anyone else, I could have just gone home and fucked. This wasn't anyone else. This was a guy who'd wormed his way into my heart and I knew if it went any farther I'd end up broken hearted.

"Andrew, please..." I gasped out his name before burying my face in his neck. I felt so fucking small. "Don't make me into one of your conquests."

***** Andrew *****

When Taylor crossed the finish line, I was jumping up and down, cheering him until I was hoarse. The fifth man to cross the line. He'd told me the best he'd done before was twentieth. Pride filled me. Pride for a friend. It wasn't me, it was all him. His dedication, his devotion, his everything went into that race. Taylor was incredible, last night only proved how wonderful a person he was.

I ran up to him, picking him up in my arms, jumping up and down, laughter and joy erupting from me. It took him a moment, and a bottle of water, to get into the moment, but he whooped in victory as I spun him about. When I stopped spinning, my elation turned to something more. There was that need to kiss him again. Out of nowhere it came back and I pulled away to look into his eyes. His smile started to fade and in that one moment, I could have sworn he wanted to kiss me too. It was there in his eyes. My heart started pounding in my chest, my palms gripped into his flesh tighter. My head started to lower to his when he jumped out of my arms. The pain of it was crushing.

I helped Taylor pack up his gear and stow it in his SUV. As he drove us back to my place, I stared at him. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel and he kept sneaking glances at me. He was straight. He'd told me about a girlfriend or two. But I was getting the signals. They were there. He was interested or at least curious. There was something there. Only I didn't know how to act on it. Before, I'd have had a curious guy against the wall, showing him how my cock could make him whimper in pleasure. Taylor was different. He wasn't a simple fuck against the wall; he was special. He deserved a big bed and soft sheets, drugging kisses and respectful, but sweaty, lovemaking.

When we got to my house, I knew I was lost. He might have been curious, which made me rock hard in my shorts, but he wasn't ready. I wanted to ask him inside, only because I couldn't face being alone. I didn't. We exchanged uncomfortable promises about Monday, and then he drove away. I watched the dust settle from his retreat. Had what I saw been real? I went inside, brooding.

I paced around my house, the only reason I went into my bedroom was to get some laundry. I wasn't about to spend any time in there at all; the memories were too fresh, too raw. After two pints of Ben & Jerry's in which I used Chips Ahoy to scoop it into my mouth, I had gone over it all in my mind at least three times. It was all a mistake. Taylor wasn't really sending me signals. He couldn't have. It was only how close I felt to him, after he came to me, helped me through the nightmares; that and almost three months of celibacy. I couldn't stay home. There was no way I could face the night. This restlessness filled me, drawing me out. I was obviously wrong about Taylor. The disappointment filled me so sharply, that it made me wince in pain. Barely thinking it through, I threw on some clothes after a quick shower and headed out to the local meat market. The Mustang wasn't what I would normally call my scene, but I wanted to forget everything. I wanted to forget the dreams, the nightmares, Taylor, everything.

Once my eyes adjusted to the smoky dimness of the club, I saw a couple of guys I'd nailed once before. I headed straight for them, looking my fill. They were both tall, big bruisers. Hairy, muscular, hung nicely, although the blond was a bit longer than the redhead. I flashed myself before them, gyrating my ass to the music right in front of them. Within seconds, they took my bait, pulling me to their little corner. The redhead, God, I didn't even remember his name, was rubbing his crotch against my ass as the blond groped my cock through my jeans. I tried to get into it. I let them grope and move against my body as I waited for the heat of lust. It didn't come. After a few minutes, I was ready to leave. My flesh, so stringently denied, wouldn't respond. Only the thought of Taylor had my blood heating. Disgusted and discouraged with, I pushed away from my boy toys and made my way out of the club, practically mowing someone down on my way out the door. Shock held me immobile as I recognized the man in front of me. Taylor.

His hair was slicked back a bit and his clothes hugged his tight body. Without glasses, it showed off his eyes, making them look big and vulnerable. What wouldn't respond to heavy petting inside was straining and aching at the sight of him. Without a single other thought, I took in his shocked, hungry eyes, and the last of my tenuous control fled. My control wasn't the only thing that fled. I barely had a chance to breathe before he was beating feet for the parking lot.

I caught him before he got there. He looked like a caged animal, panicked and about to collapse. He tried to say something as I grabbed his hips, taking a hard cheek into my hand and hoisted him against me. My other hand fisted at the back of his neck, pulling Taylor's lips to mine. That was the last coherent moment I had for some time.

The taste of his mouth, the sweet, firm, but soft lips made me groan, shaking both of us as my tongue moved forward, to tempt, to taste, to devour. My hands shook as I held him, need clawed at my throat, wanting all of him, everything, now. My need was so deep, that I began to feel dizzy. It was only when I pulled away to kiss along his jaw that I realized it was oxygen deprivation that made me shaky. Well, that and the scent of Taylor.

Taylor's eyes were big, scared looking. I immediately slowed. This wasn't a fuck in the showers at work. This was more; this was everything. I leaned in to kiss him again, when Taylor's words stopped me. "Andrew, please..." He buried his face in my throat and I couldn't help but caress the side of his head with my lips. "Don't make me into one of your conquests."

That stopped me. I'd never really thought of Taylor scared. He was the one who was always holding me when I was scared, vulnerable, and unsure. I looked down, gently pulling his face back so I could see his eyes. With everything I was and everything I felt, I promised, "You could never be just a fuck. Never, Taylor."

I watched as he swallowed and relaxed. I kissed him again, gently, barely brushing my lips across his. I felt him shudder, but he melted into the kiss. He wanted more, but I could tell by his trembling he was scared. We needed a break, something to distract us before we did something stupid.

"Why don't we go celebrate? I don't know about you, but I'm starved, and a bloody steak sounds really good about now."

He grinned, the nervousness easing from his eyes. "Sounds great."

We got in my truck and I drove to a small steakhouse down the road I knew and had gone to whenever I'd wanted to share a special moment with my mother or sister. After a decadent appetizer of bacon wrapped scallops with spicy cocktail sauce and a glass of wine, we both relaxed.

We chatted about the race, training, and anything that didn't touch on what had happened at the club. When the Caesar salads arrived, my curiosity won out. "I had no idea you'd be interested."

Taylor recovered quickly, only choking a bit on his wine. "I'm bi, Andrew." He looked anywhere but into my eyes. "I've just never explored." He paused, holding his glass unsteadily. "Let's face it; you have a -can fuck anything that moves- reputation."

My eyebrows creased. At first I was pissed, wondering who was talking about me. Then I realized that it didn't matter. It was true. "Yeah. I do." I looked directly into his eyes. "Does it matter?"

He looked away for a moment. "It did at first. I didn't want to be a fuck." His cheeks reddened a bit, as if embarrassed. "I'm tired of sex for sex sake. I want to be special."

I took his hand with mine, momentarily surprised at how natural the gesture was. "You are special. I was tired of my reputation long before today." Now it was my turn to blush. "I'm not sure of what I'm doing, but I don't want this to be the same. I promise, Taylor."

We sat there, Taylor looking at me, me looking back and hoping he believed me. I didn't realize my hand hadn't moved until the waiter returned to refill our glasses. Fortunately, the man didn't do more than pause and raise an eyebrow before ignoring the whole thing and refilling our waters. Taylor looked uncomfortable, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"That would take some getting used to," he mumbled under his breath, pulling his hand free to take a drink from his glass.

Conversation turned to more mundane things as our entrees arrived. By the time dinner was over, I think we were both feeling mellow and able to face the next part. As we left the restaurant, Taylor asked me to take him back so he could get his car. I was disappointed; I didn't want the night to be over. When we got back to the Mustang, Taylor hopped out of my truck, and then looked at me unsure and a bit fidgety. "Would you like to come back to my place?"

The invitation must have been hard for him, I knew, and it touched me more than I could ever say that he did it. At that moment, I realized I wasn't prepared for a night of heavy lovin'. "I'll be by your place in a few minutes, I need to make a stop first."

After I left the parking lot, I went to an all night drugstore. Condoms. I needed some. I had gone for the tests, but I hadn't gotten the results back yet. I honestly didn't think I'd been anything but lucky, but on the off chance, I'd rather be safe. Nothing would harm Taylor; especially not the stupid choices I'd made before I met him.

When I got to his condo, I didn't quite know what to expect. Taylor stood at the door wearing his favorite sweats and a tee. The hunger roared through my blood, making me want to lunge for him, taking him up in my arms, feasting on his mouth. But that nervous look, the baggy clothes that hid his body, made me pull back. Every instinct I had said to take him, hard and fast. But my brain slowed my body down, reining in the wild lust I felt for him.

I took his hand and walked over to the couch, tugging him down to sit beside me. I looked in his eyes and saw the wild hunger and nervousness in there. Breathing deep, I called on everything I had to be gentle and good before my hand reached out and cupped his face. The prickly feel of his slight beard stubble fired the nerves in my palm. Following pure instinct, my hand traced the firm chin while my fingers danced across his cheekbone. When his face pressed against my palm, I used my thumb to trace his lips. "Oh Taylor."

Moving slowly, I lowered my lips, and brushed them once against his. Taylor drew in his breath in a ragged sigh. My other hand cupped his other cheek and I moved closer, still barely brushing his lips with my own. "The things you do to me."

When his mouth opened slightly, I flicked my tongue against his lower lip, taking his taste deep inside me, branding it on my memory. When his tongue touched just the tip of mine, the groan was immediate. I mumbled nothing words against his lips as I continued to taste him, learn him, consume him slowly.

My lips trailed over his face, kissing lightly his eyelids, his nose, and his eyebrows until I'd covered his face in feather light kisses. Where his jaw met his skull, I spent a long time nibbling his skin, smelling spicy, woodsy cologne. "Oh fuck, Andrew. That feels so damn good."

His earlobe muffled my laugh. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

My teeth, lips, and tongue followed the tendon of his neck to the hollow of his throat. My tongue lapped against that sweet spot, flicking, tasting. Taylor's hands were buried in my hair, pulling, pushing, and tugging. "You're so hot. So fucking hot."

My hands snuck beneath the hem of his tee, taking in the sleek skin and warm muscles of his back. I lifted my head from his throat, to look into his eyes, seeing them heavy lidded as I took his lips again, moving deeper, filling his mouth with my tongue. His hands had moved to my shoulders and had pushed the heavy flannel shirt off as he leaned in, biting into my shoulders. "Taylor. Taylor. Taylor." I couldn't get enough of saying his name, feeling him in my arms, tasting him on my lips.

It was a long, delightful exploration of kissing. My body shuddered at his touch. Nothing like this had ever happened before. I was turned on beyond belief, but didn't want this to end anytime soon. Before I knew it, we were pressed into the couch, Taylor pinned beneath me, one hand fisted in my hair, the other pulled my tank out of my jeans, scraping my back lightly with his nails.

When Taylor's hands pushed against my shoulders, I immediately sat up. His face was flushed and he was out of breath. I cursed myself for being so rough. Not that I didn't think he could handle it, but he was quite a bit shorter than me. I pulled the flannel shirt off and threw it over my shoulder. I toed my boots off, but Taylor's hands stopped me. "Let me."

My body shuddered as his hands trailed under the tank shirt I was wearing, sifting through my chest hair, grazing my nipples as he slipped it off me. Returning the favor, I slipped his tee off and tossed it in the vicinity of my shirt. "God, you're so beautiful." His face was flushed, but I could still tell that he blushed.

"Look who's talking," he mumbled as his fingers traced tentatively through my fur.

Damn, but that didn't make my cock twitch hard. The man was still half dressed and I was more turned on then I'd ever been before. I couldn't imagine how over the top I'd be when he was naked, body clasped to mine as I pushed into him for the first time. The image almost made me close my eyes and whimper. I had to have him. I had to have him now.

Before I knew it, his face was buried in my chest, his nose rubbing hard in the thick hair over my sternum. My breath left me all at once. It wasn't in me to give in, to lie back and let him take control, but I did. The newfound freedom made my body tremble as he dove into my armpit, nipping at the tender skin. It only made me harder, more fiercely aroused. I wasn't into pain, but I did love rough and tumble sex. When Taylor got to the snaps on my jeans, I stilled his hands. He'd never been with a man before. This was for him, about him. All for him.

I pulled Taylor into my lap, grabbing his wonderful ass to lever him up so I could chew and nibble his chest. The sleek, soft skin and hard muscle was a delight to taste. When I got to his nipple, I thought for sure it was going to be over with the way Taylor cried out and gripped my hair tighter, holding me to him. My hands slid into his sweats, wanting to cup his ass. My hands encountered a sleek, soft material. I had to know. I had to see. I pushed down his sweats, watching his face, to make sure I wasn't moving too soon. I saw nothing but hunger in his eyes as I slipped his sweats down and off his legs. Then I looked down. Black silk boxers. Oh God! What a fucking unbelievable sight. He was hard and leaking through the material. Hot damn, that was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

My hand reached out, trailing a long path from his knee, over his hip, up his belly, to tickle his nipple before cupping his face and pulling him back into my kiss. He slid against me, to press his bare chest against mine. The contact was electric and we both trembled. Then he was pressed against my crotch. I knew I was hard, but I had no clue how confined I was, how achy. As he squirmed against my chest, rubbing against me, I felt how wet I was, how soaked I was. I knew if I looked down, there'd be a wet patch in my jeans larger than I'd ever produced before. As our kiss ended, I pulled back to stare into his eyes. "I want you Taylor. So badly."

"I do too."

"This isn't a fuck. It could never be a fuck. I want to devour you, make love to you." I kissed him again. "I've never made love before. Let me love you."

His voice was throaty, husky as he mumbled, "yes."

I could feel him, hard and leaking against my belly. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to see him, all of him. I pulled him up higher, holding him up by his armpits until his knees could support him. I pulled the black silk off his hips, letting my eyes eagerly anticipate the moment of truth. What flopped out from behind the waistband was thick and smooth and mouthwatering. Without a moment's hesitation, I engulfed him in my mouth, taking him deep, then deeper still until I could brush my nose into the scant smattering of pubic hair.

Taylor's cock seemed to do nothing but leak with a continuous stream of delicious pre-come. I could spend my life feasting on the thick, salty-sweet flavor of him. I knew how to suck a cock, knew how to enjoy it and make the recipient explode. I used every talent I had and every trick I knew to keep Taylor on the edge of release for as long as he could stand it. My fingers explored while my mouth was busy. First, they trailed against his balls, hefting them, feeling their weight. Then they discovered his perineum and I felt him shudder above me. When I brushed against his hole, he grabbed my hair again, pumping his hips into my mouth, I knew it was time to end the torment and let him trip. I kept brushing a finger against his hole, feeling Taylor pump harder and harder into my mouth, moaning loudly, calling out my name whenever I'd push against his tight ring. As Taylor bellowed my name, gripping my hair to the point that tears formed in my eyes, his hips thrust hard then his cock spewed forth its essence into my mouth, to taste, to savor, to love.

As his body calmed, I sat back, licking my lips for the last of his flavor. I looked in his eyes, remembering that this was all new to Taylor. It would kill me, but I had to say it, had to offer. "We can stop now. If you want to."

He looked in my eyes, still dazed from his orgasm. "Don't you dare." He grabbed my hair again and feasted on my mouth, kissing me so damn thoroughly, I thought the top of my head would come off. Then he moved down and started chewing on my chest, lifting my arm up to get at my armpit again. He rubbed his still hard cock against my belly as he feasted on my body, making me tremble even harder. My hands fisted in his hair, holding him to whatever part of my chest or arms he wanted to chow down on next. When he raised his head back to kiss me, the look in his eyes told me we wouldn't be stopping. "Fuck me, Andrew. Just fuck me!"

The last of my tightly held control fled. Before Taylor could recover, I stood, slipped off my jeans and underwear, and grabbed him up in my arms, kissing him deeply, letting him taste the last of himself on my tongue. When we got to his bedroom, I tossed down the bag from the drugstore I'd grabbed from the table, and deposited Taylor, face down on the bed. Without waiting, I planted my face against his ass, nipping the skin of one cheek, then the other. My hands made mounds of the flesh and squeezed, massaged, and then finally separated, so I could take in his scent, his flavor, his taste. My tongue started slowly, flicking and tasting the tight, virgin ring. Taylor's whimpers, moans, and gasps kept me going, pushing a bit deeper each time his flesh gave way to me. After unknown amounts of time, my tongue was buried as far as it could go, my beard stubble abrading his flesh, and Taylor could do nothing but whimper and make filthy, erotic comments. When his ass was rhythmically clasping my tongue, I knew he was ready.

I sat back on my heels and grabbed the sack and took out the box of condoms. I tore the wrapping with my teeth and grabbed the slimy latex. I was so hard, so dripping, so aching that I could burst almost instantly. When I got the latex on the right way, I started rolling it down my shaft, but it fought me. Out of frustration, I grabbed the ring at the bottom and stretched it out, pulling it down me, only to have it snap in half. Fuck!

"How the hell?"

"Problems?" His grin was nice, made me feel at ease, but I had to be honest.

I grimaced. "I've never used them..."

Taylor's hand covered mine, grabbing a second and unwrapped it. "Let me help."

His voice was smoky, almost gone with need. He grabbed the bottle of lube and covered my cock before rolling the second condom down my shaft; I almost lost it. His comments of approval made me want to preen. I was beyond the point of stopping. I needed to be inside him. I needed him. I had to have him. Once the condom was more than snuggly around me, I grabbed the bottle of lube, flipped him over and pressed him against the bed.

"I want to see you're face, Taylor. I want to look in your eyes when I fuck you. It's easer from behind. First time, babe... first time, and then we can fuck and kiss, or whatever you want." I probed his ass with a lubed finger. Damn he was tight. He needed to be open, well lubed, and practically begging before he'd be ready. I tried to be patient, to give him what he needed, but the more hungry he got for my fingers the more desperate the need to rut became. Finally, I couldn't wait any more. I drenched my cock before placing it against his pliant, slick hole, causing him to moan. "Taylor... damn."

I pushed forward. There was so much resistance, that I only pulsed against him, pushing slightly. I knew it would be tough on him, so I forced every driving instinct I had to rut away. I had to be slow and gentle for him. He loved it rough; I knew that already, but not the first time. After several blindingly arousing minutes, I slipped inside. Taylor's strangled cry made me pause, but he whimpered deep as he adjusted around me, milking me. His body was trembling, but he pushed his hips back against me.

That was all I needed to unlatch the rest of my resistance. I pushed further, moaning out at how tight, how hot, how right it all was. Before I knew it, my hips were pumping slowly but completely into him. The condom slowed me down, but everything felt more intense, more important than I ever thought it would. Being so much taller than Taylor, I rested my forehead against the top of his head, as I kept moving. He kept whimpering and gasping. He was gripping at the sheets like he was about to explode.

More than anything, I wanted this to be everything for him like it was for me. It had never been like this. Never. Oh my God, this was amazing. My heart was racing, my breath harsh, and my body was on fire.

Without warning, everything got warmer, wetter, and the sensations greater inside of Taylor. I knew something was wrong. I stopped immediately, sitting on my heels, pulling gently out, and watching Taylor tremble the whole time. "I think the condom broke. I'm sorry baby, I think I got the wrong size..."

I made the mistake of looking down. Yes, the condom had broken. But my shaft wasn't a pale pink, glistening with lube and love, but bright red, shining red, coated in blood.

***** Taylor *****

How had I gotten this far? The thought crossed my mind in the brief moments between Andrew's kissing me on the way to the bed and when I was face down, ass up, with him rimming me into a brainless state of lust. Oh God what that man could do to my ass left me desperate. I nearly came again with him feasting on my ass. I always knew I'd be a butt slut if any guy got me this far. He could do anything he wanted as long as he filled that aching need down below my hips.

I whimpered, pushing back at him, as his face left my ass. He couldn't leave me like this. Then heard him tearing open a box and trembled at the familiar sound of a condom wrapper crinkling. That's what I wanted. I wanted him, all that hairy muscle against my back, while he fucked me through the bed. I waited, listening to his rapid, frustrated breathing.

"How the hell," he muttered. I looked over my shoulder and saw him, his huge monster strangled with a ripped condom, and I laughed. He looked so confused.

Maybe he'd never used condoms? God, I hoped he had. I grinned, amused and touched by the sight, but no less turned on. He was so fucking huge.

"Problems?" I couldn't help joke at the situation.

Andrew grimaced. "I've never used them..."

Turning around, I slid over to him and kissed him, pulling at his lower lip with my teeth as I wrapped my hand about him and slowly peeled off the broken plastic. He groaned, leaning into my kiss. I found his now useless hand and pulled the lube from his fingers.

"Let me." I spread more lube on him, making him shudder. God, my fingers could barely make it around him. That was just his shaft. He had a head that I couldn't even get my fingers to touch when I ran my hand over it. I looked at the box. He'd gotten Magnums, but I think he should have gotten the Magnum double-X. He really was that much of a man. He hissed as I rolled the second condom down him. It was a tight squeeze. With more lube on the outside and a few good tugs, he was more than ready.

"Fuck me, please." I was so desperate. I wanted what the other guys had had. I wanted him in me, claiming me, making me a man.

His voice was hoarse with desire as he pushed me back and rolled me onto my belly. He leaned over me, pressing himself against my back as his lubed fingers found my ass and stroked it. The play of his fingers and the heat of his breath against my ear had me whimpering. "I want to see you're face, Taylor. I want to look in your eyes when I fuck you. It's easer from behind. First time, babe... first time, and then we can fuck and kiss, or whatever you want."

I groaned as his finger slid in, twisting and probing my bowels. I was actually gasping as his second one went in with more lube. I'd never gotten two in without pain, but damn if he didn't have my ass pressing back for more. Then his fingers hit something, my button, prostate, whatever. I felt the jolt run from below my dick all the way to the tip. I cried out, gasping his name and thrusting back against those fingers. He pulled out, adding more lube, and he twisted and pressed three fingers in. I was seeing stars. It still felt so good, but I felt like I was stretched to the limit. I knew he was bigger than that.

I sucked in a breath as his fingers pulled out and I tensed. It was going to hurt. I knew that. I knew that even if he were smaller it would hurt. That's what I'd read. First times always hurt. I tried to relax as he pulled himself over me, distracting me with all that furry muscle that scrapped against my skin. He pressed against my hole. He pressed and pulled back and pressed and pulled back, causing my ass to pulse with the need of him. Then he leaned in and really pushed.

The pain was like a blowtorch trying to burn its way past my ring. I bit down, trying to force myself to open up and let him in. I wanted this. I'd asked for it, begged for it, and I wasn't going to back down. Other guys had taken him. I just had to do it, get past the initial pain, and then it'd all be good. That's what the stories said.

I cried out as he popped past my ring. I'm not sure how much popping was going on because it felt like he had ripped me from one side to the other. I couldn't breath. Andrew stopped, holding himself there, and I was scared he'd pull out, not fuck me. I wanted him to fuck me. Biting into the pillow, I thrust back against him, groaning at the burning sensation it caused.

That seemed to be all he needed. His thrusting was slow at first. Slow or fast didn't matter. I had a telephone pole being shoved up to my gut and the pain didn't go away. I gripped the sheets and bit in, trying to ride it out. It would get better, it had to... no one would want to go through this and not get something from it. I could feel the tears leaking from my eyes. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted it to feel like his fingers had, like his tongue, like all the hot passion of finally letting go and giving myself to the incredible man who was claiming me in more ways that sexually.

I was lost in a sea of pain, unable to pull in enough breath to whimper, when Andrew suddenly stopped. After a moment of blessed stillness, he started pulling back. This time it drew a weak whimper from me and I had to bite into the pillow as that huge head pulled past the ring of fire that was my ass.

"I think the condom broke. I'm sorry baby, I think I got the wrong size..."

I couldn't tell what he was doing, but all I wanted to do was curl in on myself and escape the torn, wet, burning that was my ass. Andrew seemed to stumble off the bed and I heard the familiar sounds of retching. I think that is what kept me from retreating: the helpless, whimpering sounds he made between heaves. I force myself to lift my head and blink past the tears.

Andrew was on the floor, kneeling over the vomit and bile that he'd just unleashed on the carpet. My eyes trailed down his hot, sweaty, chest and focused on his hips. It looked like someone had slaughtered a small animal at his groin. It didn't take a genius to realize the blood wasn't his; it was mine.

Andrew looked back at me in horror, and our eyes met. That wasn't the big, strong, sexual man looking at me. That was the boy. That was the hurting kid who I'd held through the night. He was back in the nightmare, but this time it wasn't a dream.

He scrambled over the vomit on his hands and knees as he reached for the phone. I was too stunned by it all to say or do anything. His hands were shaking so hard that he kept punching keys and then hitting the receiver to do it again.


He looked at me, his eyes brimming with pain and guilt that was spilling down in his cheeks.

"What are you doing?"

He shook his head, looking back at the phone. "9-1-1... police, ambulance..." He tried to punch it again.

I scrambled, ignoring the pain that erupted as I moved. I tried to get the phone, but he held onto it like a lifeline. What was he thinking? The Police? I didn't want an ambulance. Did he think I wanted some ER nurse to look at me, torn up from my first time, and thinking I wasn't man enough to fuck? My attempts to get the phone messed up his dialing and he tried again. I just grabbed the phone chord and ripped it out of the wall.

"Andrew, please!"

He looked at me as I began to get dizzy. Was I really bleeding as much as it looked like? No, not possible. A little blood went a long way. I tried to pull my legs up, push myself into a sitting position, but I was beginning to feel sick myself. The pain, desperation, and smell of vomit were all mixing into a quagmire of sensations that were hard to process.

"Just help me get to the shower. It can't be that bad."

He looked at me as I wobbled. I was in his arms, warm, secure, safe, before I could topple from the bed. I just buried my face in his neck as he held me. He was shaking worse than I was.

"I hurt you..." His voice was so small. I had to hold it together for both of us.

"Bathroom, Andrew. I need your help right now, please."

He got me there and we managed to fumble our way into the shower. My legs really didn't want to support me. The water helped bring me out of the shock, but Andrew stood there, in the spray, holding me up, looking like he wanted to die. I got myself clean; Andrew helped, but he was almost like a marionette. I had to tell him what I needed before he would take action.

I peeled back the blood stained comforter and top sheet while Andrew went to get me ice. I tossed the sheets and such to the floor, covering the vomit. I wasn't up to dealing with it all. My ass was on fire, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. I'd gotten a couple pain killers from the medicine cabinet before we got out of the bathroom. I didn't think the damage was worth a trip to the ER.

I'd done that once, in college. Being young and stupid I'd followed a modeling friend into diet-fad idiocy and had constipated myself for nearly a week. When I finally was able to force a bowel movement, I'd torn myself. The sight of blood in the toilet panicked me and I'd ended up in the ER. All they did, other than not believe that I'd only torn myself from trying to get shit out, not by put something into my ass, was give me pain killers, a cleansing, and advised that I take some stool softeners and fiber for the next couple weeks. Oh, and to tell my boyfriend to sleep on the couch for a while. I didn't want to face that humiliation again; even if this time they would have been right.

Andrew sat in the desk chair, watching me with a haunted expression while I tried to find a comfortable way to put the ice pack against my ass. I wished he'd hold me. I was feeling small, broken, and my masculinity was fading fast. I was scared. When I looked in his eyes, Andrew wasn't really there. He was still caught in the mix of remembered and present horrors.

Fuck, he'd only remembered it a day ago. In less than a week, in his mind, he'd gone from the victim to the victimizer. I needed him to stay. I needed to know he wouldn't do anything stupid in a fit of depression or self loathing or panic. The problem was that I didn't have the strength to fight that fight. I was just too tired. I hurt too much, and all I wanted was someone to hold me and tell me it would be alright.


His eyes seemed to focus on me, at least for the moment.

"Can you do something for me?"

He nodded. His eyes were still red and watering. I didn't think he'd really stopped crying since he started throwing up.

"I really need you with me tonight. Please."

He moved back to the bed. He'd put his boxers back on when he'd gone to the kitchen for the ice. He slid in tentatively, trying not to touch me or jostle the bed too much. The bed was much too small for him. There was no way he couldn't come in contact with me without hanging off the bed. I rolled over, wincing at the sensation between my cheeks, and tried to snuggle into his chest. I breathed him in, closing my eyes and remembering what it had been like before the pain. He was everything I wanted. Right now I needed that more than anything.

I felt him kissing the top of my head while his arms shifted, draping loosely across my shoulders as I settled into a comfortable spot. He was crying, softly, trying not to move, but the tremors were there.

"I'm sorry..."

I nodded into his chest, torn as badly by the pain in his voice as the pain in my ass. "I know."

The pills and my exhaustion dragged me into a dreamless sleep. Despite all the pain and fear I didn't feel alone.