Sunday, August 10, 2014

Ciao, Baby

Ciao, Baby

*Story contains M/M relations and graphic sexual situations.*

Eleven dollars and thirty cents for a simple Jack and coke – and that was before the tip. Best be expecting to round it off to a nice, even fifteen, too, if one wanted another round. Regardless, it was worth every penny, every single red cent, since it led to the current circumstance of tasting the mouth that was attached to Brayden's own.

That’s where the fascination lay in a club like this. The music was amazing, the people-watching was intriguing, but it was the bodies that brought you out... the potential for shameless, unabashed encounters of the sexual kind.

It didn’t come much better than this, either. A perfect package: enthusiastic, young, and hotter than a summer afternoon in Vegas. Brayden could not get enough of the feel of the smaller man’s body through the tight shirt: lean, slim – sexy as all fuck. If he slid his hands down further he could tease one of the sweetest asses he had seen in a long time – had, in fact, spent several minutes doing just that. At the moment, however, Brayden had his fists buried in short, stiff blonde hair. He usually despised styling gel; hated the way it felt in hair and hated the way it clung to his hands. The reactions, however, that Brayden got for the playful tugs on bleached tresses – the tilt of eager crotch, and the groaning into his mouth – were more than enough payment for the sticky fingers.

The boy shifted against him, pushing Brayden harder into the wall of the tiny stall. Clean at least, the staff kept the place decent, but then again, would he have cared if it hadn’t been? No, probably not. Not if it meant the blond would keep grinding against him, certainly not if it meant there was a possibility that the slick pink muscle in his mouth would eventually find its way down to his zipper.

Bold fingers found Brayden’s nipples through his shirt, teasing them; while the other hand, bolder yet, played along Brayden's shirt hem, before tentatively feeling its way underneath. Brayden grinned at the touch. Only unknown fingers brought the kind of rush that made skin jump like knots in a bonfire; only unfamiliar explorations felt quite so erotic.

Armani Code – Brayden was sure that was the scent that coated the pale skin. He released the mouth below him and dipped to the boy’s neck instead. Here Brayden could relish the scent, taste it even, while he continued to tease and persuade. He’d always had a thing for that cologne.

The hand coaxing Brayden’s shirt up continued its quest, presenting skin to cooler air, forcing a hiss as his newly bared back touched the stall. Cold metal was merciless but so were the boy’s fingers on his chest. He opted to live through the one in order to continue to experience the other.

Brayden left lingering kisses up and down the slender neck and teased sensitive skin at the base of the other’s throat. Lips and tongue danced up to lobe and shell, resulting in a rewarding litany of whispered praise.

He was too hungry to wait for the boy to present further instruction. Brayden’s fingers found his own button and popped it open. He didn’t stop until he’d pressed down the zipper and removed aching heat from the confines of his pants. He groaned when his overheated flesh twitched at the temperature change.

A pleased hum rumbled into Brayden’s ear, and the boy smiled temptingly. Slim fingers closed over Brayden’s body; he laid his head back and closed his eyes. With persuasive hands he found blond hair again and provided the gentle pressure that suggested only one act. Brayden flashed a self-satisfied grin at the ceiling as the boy began to kneel, before returning his gaze to the descending form.

Pretty blue eyes looked so much sweeter from their current vantage point, turned up to look at Brayden with so much pleased deviance they seemed lit from within. Kiss-swollen lips parted, were dampened with a darting tongue, and Brayden’s cock was teased with a slow drag of slick pink. Even though he wanted to curse the boy’s gentle taunt, he tried to be patient – but all Brayden could think was... in, swallow,suck goddamn it! He nudged his hips forward, trailed his hand over shoulders to back of neck, and silently suggested with insistent tugs toward his body: suck my cock.

A mischievous grin, a playful retreat, and Brayden smiled back, doing his best to hide his gritted teeth and tight jaw. Eyelids fluttered closed, palms found Brayden’s thighs and slowly – painstakingly slowly – Brayden’s cock was swallowed into heat. Brayden’s jaw slackened, his lips parted with a puff of spoken air, and he let the wall take his full weight as he focused on sliding deeper into the talented throat.

No more games. He held the back of the boy’s head, directing, coaxing, urging the ministrations... take it just that much more, hold it in just that much longer. The unmistakable sounds of movement on spit-soaked skin echoed on tile and chrome. Gasping lungs matched every pound of Brayden's beating heart with whispered, curse-filled breaths. Brayden struggled not to force-feed every slide.

Brayden was released with a heavy gulp of air, the boy’s wet lips open and panting, and as badly as he wanted to reach for the boy again, pull him back to continue the task, this, he knew, was the point Brayden had to give up the lead. This was where the boy had to choose – go farther or finish here? Would the young man stand and offer more? Take Brayden by hand? Or finish by mouth? Did the blond want to get touched as well? Or tasted? Did his eager little stall-mate want to get fucked?

Brayden looked down at his young tempter, asking the questions silently. Damp palms stroked Brayden’s hips, a tongue slashed distractedly over puffy lips, and Brayden watched the kid decide without offering counsel.

When a mouth brushed the tip of Brayden’s cock again, he felt no disappointment over the decision. He merely leaned back again to enjoy the ride. That changed, however, when after nothing more than a taste of the dot of cum on the head of Brayden’s cock, the boy began to rise. Surprise aside, though, Brayden did not hesitate when the smaller body ground against him, and Brayden reached for the tight black denim that barred his way.

He was forced to pause when the blond’s head rested on his chest for a moment, almost chastely, hands pressed against Brayden’s pecs and cheek warm on his skin. Comfort, Brayden could do comfort – comfort meant relaxation, relaxation meant willing. He circled the slim waist with his arms, held the still clothed body against him, rocking their hips together gently, and touched his lips to a flushed forehead.

The boy looked up, and Brayden responded with a crushing kiss. Arms slipped across Brayden’s chest and around his shoulders, gripping muscle to the point of pain, and Brayden dropped his hands once again to the task of lowering jeans.

An almost embarrassed set of eyes found his when the boy’s body was exposed, though it was a mystery to Brayden why the boy would feel a second of shame. Naked from the waist down, the boy looked like a young god. Brayden reached, wrapped his fingers, and with a small smirk began to stroke. Half-lidded eyes dropped to watch, and slim hips kept time with Brayden’s hand. Appraisal was moaned into Brayden’s mouth when he sought out the other set of lips again.

A quick twist, almost dance-like in nature – fluidity a necessity in such tight quarters – had Brayden trading places, and had the boy against the stall instead. Through the surprised gasp, the resettling into position, Brayden continued to work the boy’s body, thrilling at the way tense fingers continued to grip his shoulders and how hot, quick breath fanned his face.

With his free hand Brayden reached for, and urged, a slim thigh to lift. It took a moment for the boy to realise what Brayden wanted, but when the boy finally got it, Brayden slipped the limb up and over his own hip. Without dropping attention on the boy’s cock, Brayden began to search with his other hand, dragging his fingertips over the underside of the leg that now gripped his waist. Cooler, goose-bumped skin gave way to warmer, softer flesh, and Brayden trailed his fingers over a tight sac. He cupped it, gently rolling the delicate organs in his hand and was rewarded with a long, pleased sigh.

Beautiful: the lust-lost expression, the exposed neck, the swollen lips, and smooth chest were all so fucking beautiful Brayden didn’t know if he wanted merely to taste them or outright consume them. He satisfied himself with latching on to skin, sealing the flesh with his lips, and working the boy’s neck with his tongue and his teeth. Small bruises began to pepper the pale surface – full, rich blooms of colour on ivory.

The cock in Brayden’s fist jumped. Their kiss stifled another groan. Brayden relinquished balls to raise his hand to his mouth.

Wet fingers returned to their previous post but didn’t stall there. They searched instead, delving back, sliding along a warm cleft until Brayden could circle the tip of his index finger over the hole. He paused, waiting for a sudden change of mind, hesitant out of good manners alone, and when nothing followed, he pressed inside.

The heat that gripped Brayden’s finger was intense and inviting. His mind fixated on it, his body responded completely to it. He wanted it more than breath at that moment. He slipped his middle finger in alongside the first, his cock twitching at every sound that fell from the boy’s throat. Brayden moved both fingers as one unit inside the tightness, torturing himself with every slide. Right there, with every press... right there, with every answering thrust and writhe the body below him made... Brayden wanted to be right there. His eyes danced over the boy’s face, his cock ached against the boy’s hip. His heart pounded in his chest.

Brayden didn’t scissor, he didn’t twist – he fucked the smaller body with his hand. In and out, tip to home, while Brayden watched eyelids flutter and breath get drawn. Until finally the young man spoke the first words Brayden had heard since they stepped into the stall and joined lips. “Please,” the request whispered, shaky. “My jacket...”

Jacket? Brayden’s eyes flew to the hook on the door, to the leather swathed over it. He stopped his manipulation of the boy’s cock to reach.

“Pocket,” a hard swallow followed, “right pocket.” Brayden took a second to reorient his brain enough to differentiate his left from his right. One-handed, he dug through the folds of stiff, brown hide and removed two packages; a foil-wrapped condom and press pack of lubricant. Brayden smirked. At least the boy was prepared.

Blue eyes were raised to his own, watching Brayden carefully. Fucking beautiful – every second, every step closer just made the younger man look more beautiful.

He regretted the necessity of withdrawing his fingers, though he loved the desperate little sound that left the boy’s lips when he did. Foil crinkled and the press pack popped while latex was rolled and lube was smeared. Slick fingers reached for and found a much more eager hole. Brayden coated lavishly, in and around while his entire body impatiently fought the delay.

Brayden wrapped his arms and grabbed the trembling thigh of the one leg still supporting the boy. He lifted, taking the boy’s weight, and added the second leg to his own waist. The metal wall helped support and balance; Brayden’s legs did the rest. With his head buried in the pale neck, Brayden cupped firm cheeks with both hands, squeezing them once before coaxing with his fingers. Sweat slipped down his spine as fingertips danced where his body so urgently wanted to be.

Desire overcame Brayden’s patience. He lined their bodies up, found the boy’s mouth with his, held the gaze of heady blue eyes, and thrust mercilessly.

Lips fell away from Brayden’s with a gasp, blond hair met cold metal with a clunk, and the trim form arched. Sensation titillated Brayden’s cock as the tight passage contracted and pulsed around him. Fingernails a little too long for comfort found purchase in Brayden’s skin. Moans became hushed expletives through gritted teeth. But the boy didn't call for a stop -- didn't even try to slow Brayden down. Contrarily, the young man worked with his thrusts, granting both friction and depth with widely spread legs and unhindered movement.

“Give me your mouth,” Brayden growled quietly, the words seeming far too loud in the small bathroom. Blue eyes softened in seduction, and Brayden’s request was granted.

The high squeal of wet skin against an unyielding surface met every shove as the boy’s back slipped. Though lips moaned pleas against Brayden’s, he ignored the eager cock jutting between them. He simply enjoyed the moment, forcing himself in and out of the heat allowed him. He revelled in the feel of the other man, in every sensation, and he swallowed every sound greedily. It was not until the boy reached forward to self-satisfy that Brayden reined himself in enough to notice. Brayden reached up with his left hand and grabbed the top of the stall for support. “Can you hold yourself up?” he asked, breathlessly.

The young man nodded, wrapped already gripping legs that much tighter around Brayden’s waist, and pressed more firmly against the wall.

Brayden reached between their bodies, pushing away the stroking hand, and ran his own fingertips over the hard cock. A groan bounced over echoing surfaces. He rested his head against the young man’s forehead as the smaller body began to move against him, silently begging for an increase in friction. Brayden wallowed for a few more moments of torment, teasing his painfully excited partner, before finally relenting and wrapping his hand tightly around hard dick.

Needy whines gave way to heated pants. The heat that encircled him fluttered sensuously. Brayden’s breath skipped from his throat.

The blond lifted his head again, laid it back, moving both into and against his strokes. Pants became choked cries.

Brayden was so close. His balls were tight and drawn; every movement was torturous in its intensity. More skin was pressed between his teeth. More bruises were left to prove the path of his mouth.

Rhythmic became erratic. The boy closed failing eyes and fisted Brayden’s hair. Brayden increased both speed and pressure, jerking furiously. The smaller body swelled in his hand, tightened almost angrily, and as the young man cried out, warm fluid drenched the slim torso and coated Brayden’s fingers.

Tight heat convulsed against his sheathed length and Brayden growled at the pressure, fought to keep some semblance of tempo as the sensation pushed him closer... closer... and finally over. As the boy shivered and twitched with receding release, Brayden yanked the young body closer, slammed inside of it, and came with a strangled shout. Waves of pleasure rushed and withdrew, rushed and withdrew, only to repeat again.

Brayden laid his head on the young man’s heaving chest, struggling to pull enough air to satisfy his lungs. He let go of the stall, wrapped his hands around the boy's waist, and extracted his spent body before directing trembling limbs to the floor.

The condom was removed, tied and disposed. Traces of lubricant were wiped away with thin paper. Sweat damp skin began to air dry as clothing was located and reassembled. Shoes were replaced.

Awkward avoidance became timid smiles as they left the stall. Brayden washed his hands and ran a paper towel over sweaty hair.

As they walked back into the pounding music of the bar, Brayden pantomimed the act of smoking, and the boy grinned and followed. The night air was just a little too cool; Brayden stayed close to the entrance and hovered under the overhang. Breeze picked at the blond’s hair, tried to blow it, but styling product prevailed.

Cute. Yep, he was definitely cute; great smile. That had been fun – a good old-fashioned, blow-your-mind, random sexual encounter. And yet, he wouldn’t mind getting to know this kid better, if for no other reason than to see if he could pull off a second act to their fine little performance.

“So, can I call you?” Brayden asked, cupping his hand over the cigarette and, once lit, offering it to the boy.

“That would be awesome!” The blond grinned, eyes sparking at the suggestion. It was a look that hit Brayden’s chest with the kind of fluttery feeling he hadn’t felt in a while.

The boy stuck the offered cigarette firmly between his lips and dug for his wallet. “I was actually hoping you’d say that.” A business card flicked out from between leather folds.

Brayden took the offered card and glanced over it while he lit a cigarette for himself. Ah, yes, Caleb. That’s what it was. He let the name roll through his mind a couple of times, trying to commit it to memory. He wondered if the kid liked sushi. They all liked sushi, didn’t they? And that nice place had just opened up not too far from his condo...

“You see,” Caleb said, perfect teeth and wide-eyes flashing, “I work in the writing field too! I mean, not like you. I don’t actually write. I work for an agency downtown. We manage all kinds of authors like yourself.” Caleb paused, “Well, not me. Not yet. But with a guy like you behind me...”

A sinking feeling hit Brayden’s belly. He took a long drag on his cigarette. He didn’t give Caleb a reply.

Caleb stepped closer, pressed against Brayden’s side. “So I was thinking,” Caleb started to stroke his arm, “maybe, you know, next time we get together you might want to talk about it?” Caleb smiled seductively. “I would certainly love to see you behind me a heck of a lot more.”

Now, how was it, Brayden thought, that he barely remembered Caleb’s name but the young man seemed to know what he did for a living? It’s not like Brayden’s face was plastered on every cover in North America. By no means was he a ‘recognize at first sight kind of guy’. And sure as hell, Brayden had never mentioned he was a writer. It was a pick-up line Brayden avoided – no matter how effortless it was to use – especially in a bar full of easy-to-impress college kids.

Fuck. Go figure. He should have known. Caleb was just a little too perfect, a little too responsive.

“Ya, sure,” Brayden spit tobacco off his tongue and took another drag. “I’ll think about it.”

“I had fun,” the young man purred, leaning closer. “Did you have fun?”

Yep, fun, sure – lots of fun. It was always fun to fool yourself into believing you still had it in you to pick up a random hot kid.

Brayden avoided eye contact. Caleb suddenly didn’t appear quite as attractive as he had a few moments earlier. Sure, the boy had been aggressive; sure, he’d been a little more risqué than most of Brayden’s dates. But Brayden could have dealt with that. That he could have seen past. After all, Caleb was still young, still ruled by his cock. A slut was far more acceptable than a conniver.

What a goddamn shame.

“I have an idea,” Caleb said. “Why don’t we go back to your place, and we could talk now.” Caleb nuzzled Brayden’s neck. “There’s lots of things there we could talk about.”

Brayden nudged Caleb away and smiled coldly. “Can’t. Early meeting. Sorry. I got to run, Caleb. Thanks, hmm?” He stepped around the young man and walked towards the street.

“You’ll call though?” the kid shouted after him.

Brayden held the card up without turning around and waved it. Four steps later he stopped, checked, and Caleb was gone. Back into the club, no doubt.

He took a look at the card, paused, and then flicked it in the trash. Good luck, Caleb, he thought. Thanks for the fuck.

The End

Copyright © 2011 AF Henley

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