Abused Boi Jerks Off
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Sale or Rent
Kris sat on a bench down on the concrete promenade before you reached the sea. Ahead of him the waves rolled in and out over the burning sun languidly, as though the heat of the sun had made them sluggish. He was dressed in cut offs and an open white shirt. What with the heat and the boredom he was expecting business to be good. There were holiday makers in the city too and those of the right persuasion always found what they were looking for. His parents were away too, for another few weeks, almost as an added bonus.
It was early evening, with the sun still high, but Kris hadn’t worked since that incredible afternoon when he’d taken in his Lion from the street. The stranger had kept his word, and stayed for dinner and a shower. Kris had woken hours later in an empty bed, feeling strangely hollow and sad that the man hadn’t left a note. But he was getting low on funds and unless he made a reappearance soon his clients were bound to move on to greener pastures. Not that there was anyone as notorious as he was.
Someone rested their arms on the back of the bench.
“You doing business tonight Chilito?”
Kris looked round.
“Darren!” he leapt up and hugged the young man who returned the gesture , “What are you doing here? And yeah I’m doing business, duh, why would I be out here otherwise?” He was right, the promenade was mostly deserted, the heat coming off in waves.
The gigolo, four years older with pale skin and wavy brown hair had been a friend of his for years. Since they targeted different sections of the market, they could be easy friends, and they often met for drinks during the day.
“Where’ve you been? Ain’t seen ya for ages. There’ll be other kids moving in on your turf soon,” Darren’s accent shifted from normal into a smooth southern drawl that Kris found terribly attractive. He’d always thought it a shame that the other didn’t swing his way, “Wondered if you’d gone and found yourself some Sugar Daddy to take care of ya.”
“Not likely,” Kris said with a grin, “How’s business?”
“Heading your way, if I’m not severely mistaken,” Darren jerked his thumb toward a rich looking suit who’d just drawn up in a blood red Mustang, “See you later maybe?” He got up, patted Kris on the shoulder and sauntered off without a backward glance. These days he knew the boy could take care of himself.
The man in the Mustang waved him over.
*
Standard BJ. Kris got in and the suit drove around to a back alley with a dead end. Kneeling in the foot well, Kris sucked him off under the cover of the heavily tinted windows. It wasn’t a bad time, the suit was quite handsome and he had a fairly decent package, but Kris found it empty, having the man’s hands in the back of his hair, fucking his face. He finished up quick, got paid, and went back to his bench.
Potentials came and went, but Kris took none of them. Everyone in the city was as hot and bored as he was. Well, maybe none of them were quite as hot as he was, coated in sweat, with his shirt open to show of soft tanned skin and firm muscles along his abdomen. He let the money slide, his thoughts chasing after his lion-like stranger. About nine, when the sun was nothing but a streak of blood on the seaward horizon, a big white saloon pulled up and the driver waved to Kris.
He went over, cool as anything and leant down, arms on the drivers window frame. He ducked his head to look inside and there were two more guys in the back.
“Sorry fellas,” he said is his honey and silk voice, “I only do one on one’s…” He started to back off, but not fast enough and the man in the driver’s seat grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him close to car, pressing the blade of a small but sharp knife against the tender unmarked skin of his throat. Kris held his breath, too scared to move. Things like this had happened before, but usually it had been more crowded and so idiots like this weren’t as likely to pull this stunt.
“Get him in the back,” growled the driver. One of the guys got out and came around, grabbing Kris roughly and passed a hand over the curve of his rear.
“He’s not for hire,” said a deep growling voice behind him and the man was pulled off Kris and thrown against the car. A hand he didn’t see freed him from the knife and the grip round his neck. The car window rolled up and the saloon pulled off. Kris dared to turn around and see if he had been saved or damned. People usually wanted rewards for stunts like that.
There stood his Lion, but looking so different and so unlike the Lion Kris knew he didn’t recognise him for a moment. Sharp cut black suit, white shirt, blue tie, lone mane braided back out of the way. He pushed three hundred bucks into Kris’s hand.
“That should cover what you lost.” And he turned and began to walk away.
In shock Kris stood and watched his receding back, hardly daring to believe his eyes.
“Lion?”
The big man with his powerful shoulders stopped and turned.
“Tiger,” he smiled broadly, spreading his arms, “I thought you might have forgotten me,” Kris leapt toward him and was enveloped in a tight embrace, “I certainly didn’t forget you my little cat.”
*
They walked together down the pier, weaving amongst the happy couples and families going home with their kids now it was evening. Teenagers hung around the rides, most upbeat among the smattering of mopey looking goths. Lion bought ice creams and Kris was about halfway through his, looking out over the star and streetlamp lit sea before he got up the courage to ask the question that had been bugging him all evening.
“Is this a date?”
“What do you want it to be?” was the smooth rejoinder. Kris reached up and touched one of the golden locks that tumbled over Lion’s forehead.
“I don’t know. I don’t really know anything about you.”
The stranger who was not a stranger smiled a broad predatory grin.
“I know all I need to know about you already, but I’m willing to be explored.”
They walked to Kris’s apartment in silence, ignoring all the glances they received, up the silent stairs to the top floor. The condo was little changed since the last time Lion had been there, dark and cool with the air-con on full. Within seconds there was music, good old fashioned rock and roll playing on the stereo all over the condo. Kris led him up to his bedroom, leaving the door open, tugging him along by one paw as though the other didn’t know the way. Gently he pushed Lion down onto the bed and straddled him neatly. His hands began unthreading the long braid until he could run his fingers through the silky golden mass.
“You always wear your hair up when you’re not fucking strangers?”
Lion chuckled softly, his big hands resting on Kris’s hips.
“Only when I’m at work. Or at the gym.” By this time Kris’s quick slender fingers had begun undoing the other’s tie, throwing it onto the floor, he pushed the heavy silk lined suit jacket off Lion’s shoulders, pinning the man’s hands to the bed behind him.
“Work?” he asked, his mouth beginning to move down the intimate strangers throat, making Lion shudder with the warmth of his kiss, “What do you work as?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
Kris’s head came up, a furrow across his brow, his fingers undoing the buttons of the golden man’s shirt.
“A lawyer? One of those big shot hacks who get murderers off the hook?”
“No…” he was almost panting by now as Kris dipped his head down, agile tongue flicking at one honey coloured nipple, “I’m an honest one.”
Kris scraped blunt fingernails down his sides in reply, making him shiver.
“Do I get to ask a question yet?”
“No,” Kris raised his head, pushing the shirt off him, “it’s still my turn,” Quick blue eyes caught the label inside the shirt, “Armani? Being a lawyer pays well…”
“Well enough.”
A very predatory grin.
“Maybe we should do this at your house…” Kris said as his fingers began to undo the stranger’s suit trousers. Looking up he caught the look in Lion’s golden brown eyes, a powerful lust ridden dangerous look. He hesitated and Lion took that moment.
He wrestled free of jacket and shirt and before Kris had time to blink he was on his back on the floor, wrists pinned above his head with Lion kneeling over him. He snarled and Lion kissed him. Kris felt his heart skip again and he was so distracted it took him a moment, when the other man lent back, to realise his wrists had been bound with Lion’s tie.
“Hey!”
“Hush,” Lion smiled softly, “Just for now, I promise.”
Kris growled a little but did not protest.
“So,” Lion pushed the fall of the white shirt out of his way as his fingers traced distracting patterns across Kris’s chest, making the other shudder, “What’s your name Tiger?”
“K-Kris,” he said, panting at the feel of that tongue swirling in his navel, choking on his own name as though it was of no importance. Streetlamps through the blind and blue night-shadows made glowing tiger stripes across his skin. Lion raised his head.
“And what do you do when you aren’t fucking strangers?”
“Being fucked by them,” He felt a deep, displeased growl against his skin and the waistband of his jeans and gasped and short laugh, “Voluntary work, teaching…ungh…public speaking…politics…”
“A good works man?” Lion sounded surprised, his fingers undoing Kris’s jeans, “No boxers tonight?” He drew the fabric off and petted the boy appreciatively, “How old are you Tiger?”
“Eighteen.”
Lion froze. Panic filled Kris’s ice blue eyes and he struggled to sit up as Lion leant back. The bigger man untied his wrists, holding the silk tie in his hands, looking distraught.
“Eighteen,” he asked hollowly, hoping Kris was lying, “I thought you were older.” Kris waited until he stopped speaking then kissed him soundly. He was met by unmoving lips. He broke off, furious, and his honeyed voice became sharp.
“What does it matter!” he pushed Lion’s shoulders, “I was good enough for you before, it makes no difference! Anyway you’re not much older.”
The stranger smiled a sad wan smile. The golden light in his eyes fading fast.
“Twenty four,” he sighed heavily, “At your age I wasn’t even aware of…god…anything. Let alone people like you-” Kris halted the man’s speech but putting a finger across his lips.
“Hush. Answer a question for me. Do you still want me?”
Lion blushed appealingly and cast his gaze aside, then slide his gold-brown eyes up to meet Kris’s sea-ice ones.
“Yes,” came the choked answer.
Kris took the Lion’s paws in his hands and kissed each palm in turn before placing them on his body.
“Then take me. I’m yours.”
Kris thought he might come just from the force and sweetness of that next kiss. He was on his back, lowered gently there with one of Lion’s great paws cushioning the back of his head. Bodies pressed together, all tan skin and sweat and the double thud of two hearts beating out of time.
To Kris’s over used body it seemed as though every sensation was new, the feel of another’s arousal touching his, silky hair in his fingers, velvet covered muscles under his palms.
Lion prepared himself quickly, the slick sound of his hands over his sex hurried and desperate. Kris’s legs were hitched up over those heavy shoulders and he was folded almost in half as the other pressed into him in one long smooth movement. Untouched for so long, Kris had to hold back his scream of pain at the more than welcome invasion, but Lion’s movements and the copper-blood tainted kisses made ecstasy of that suffering. Eventually the golden beast came inside him with a wordless silent roar, his lips mere millimetres from Kris’s own. Kris came without ever being graced by either of their hands, two sets of taught tanned muscles splattered with white.
The stranger drew from him, panting hard, his shoulders heaving with effort.
“Will you stay this time?” asked Kris, still lying on the floor, still tiger striped by the streetlight. Lion smiled at him, kind and predatory and possessive.
“Only if I never have to get up,” he replied.
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