by Nijiiro Sumi (虹色 墨)
(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/75452.html)
Brian didn’t think much of the short, quick steps that followed him to the car until something small, hard and cold poked him in the small of his back. Then he froze, keys halfway to the lock. He was a big guy–over six feet and benched his own weight, easy–but even big guys didn’t mess with guns.
“Unlock the door. Nice and slow. No funny business.” The voice was high and nasal, almost a whine, but eerily calm. Brian unlocked the door nice and slow, no funny business. “Toss the keys into the front seat,” the voice ordered, so Brian did. No idea why the guy wanted this hunk of junk, it was just a Toyota, but his was not to judge.
“Now get in the back seat.”
“What?” Brian wasn’t trying to be a smartass, but–really?
“Get in the car.”
Brian got in the car, and as he did he managed to catch a glimpse of the guy. Long and thin, like a ferret or a weasel; he couldn’t see his face very well because he had a baseball cap pulled low on his face. Then he didn’t see much of anything as the guy flattened him and casually–like he was brushing lint off Brian’s sleeve or something–ziptied Brian’s hands behind his back, blindfolded him, and gagged him. Jesus, was this guy a pro or what? The door closed, and Brian just lay there while the car started.
Wherever they went, it wasn’t very far, because it only took a few minutes. They went up a gentle slope and stopped. A driveway? Brian’s heart raced, and his groin ached with anticipation; it was A-OK with this whole tied up and helpless thing.
The door opened, and the guy hauled Brian out by the collar. Brian tried to kick a little, but the gun jammed into his ribs again. “Ah, ah, ah,” the guy sing-songed. “Let’s try and behave.”
Brian wanted to scream imprecations, but he was gagged. The guy maneuvered him up the front walk and through the door. He was surprisingly nice about it, considering, warning Brian when there were steps or when they were coming to a doorway, so that Brian wouldn’t smack into the frame. Finally, he ended up on a bed, and the guy actually cut the ziptie. Brian was up and away, or so he tried to, but the guy sat on his chest and handcuffed Brian’s hands to the headboard. The handcuffs were soft, not the police kind, but some kinky bondage kind involving leather and maybe sheepskin lining, the kind that wouldn’t chafe. Brian had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he was maybe a little hard. But still, he had to put up a good show, and he rattled the cuffs.
“Now, I want you to just relax,” the guy said, like they were at a fucking salon or something. God, what a fairy. “It’ll just be for tonight, and then I promise I’ll let you go. And I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.” He reached down and rubbed the crotch of Brian’s jeans. Brian’s cock, which had so far interpreted that all the adrenaline meant something good was about to happen, twitched with interest. He groaned into the gag. “Oh, I can take that off for you, if you like. But do you promise to behave?”
Brian nodded, but the first thing out of his mouth was, “Fucking sicko pervert cocksucking fag.”
An icy barrel pressed up against his jaw. “I like a little dirty talk, but let’s keep the insults to a minimum, okay?”
Brian carefully did not say or do anything.
“Can I get a yes? Or a nod’ll do fine.”
Brian nodded quickly, not trusting his mouth.
“Excellent. Now, let’s see here. . .” The pressure of the gun against his jaw disappeared, and Brian could breathe again. Meanwhile, the guy pulled off Brian’s shoes and started unbuttoning his pants. Even though he’d been halfway expecting it, Brian was still pretty fucking startled, even more so when the guy’s hand delved into his boxer-briefs and fondled his balls. Jesus, his hands were cold! The guy gave an appreciative whistle and started a maddening rubbing motion, not enough pressure or movement or anything except to make Brian squirm. “Oh, I knew this would be a good idea. As soon as I saw you, I knew I had to take you home and make love to you all night long.”
The hand retreated, and the guy shucked off Brian’s pants and underwear, then moved up to unbutton his shirt, spreading the plackets wide. And then nothing happened. And nothing. And nothing. What was the guy doing, just looking at him? Then one palm splayed across his chest, each finger a separate point of ice against his skin. He started a slow, steady stroking, just trailing his fingertips across Brian’s chest, then his stomach, moving lower each time until they lightly brushed against the base of his cock. They lingered there for a while, then went on, traveling down his thigh.
That was the beginning of a slow, thorough exploration of Brian’s body, the kind he wasn’t sure he’d ever had before. The guy rubbed, licked, nibbled on everything, from elbows to toes to ears. Brian’s nipples had never been very sensitive, and he’d been impatient in the past with lovers that insisted on loving them until they ached, and the guy didn’t dwell on them too long. But Brian had never been aware that the inside of his elbow was so soft, or that his bellybutton was ticklish, or that feather-light brushes against the inside of his forearm could make him shiver all over. The guy touched every part of his body except his cock, basically, which was hard and drooling for it, and Brian could never tell where he was going to be next because he couldn’t fucking see.
“Gooood,” Brian moaned. He couldn’t help himself.
“That’s me. Is there something you want?” his captor queried, sounding almost playful.
“Uh,” said Brian. Being this turned on made it hard to think or form coherent sentences, but easy to just want and want and want.
“Oooh, a guessing game. I love those. Let’s see. Could it be this?” He scraped a fingernail across one nipple. “Or this?” He licked Brian’s wrist. “Or this?” He blew a tiny puff of air across Brian’s balls, making him yelp. “Ah, I’m close. It must be this, then.” And at final fucking last he took Brian’s cock into his mouth. Brian moaned with relief and thrust up, once. The guy pulled away. Brian gave a cry of frustration.
“Just testing. I believe it’s time for some tit for tat. Why should I give you anything you wouldn’t give me?” Brian felt the guy move up his body, skin sliding against skin, until finally the guy straddled his chest. He felt like he knew what was coming next, but he was unprepared for the cold press of metal against his temple. “Bite, and I blow your head off,” the guy said pleasantly. “Now, open wide.”
Brian opened wide and got a mouthful of cock. It somehow wasn’t as big as he thought it’d be while also being way bigger than he thought it’d be. The guy pushed in and then pulled out, slow and shallow at first and then going faster and deeper, never enough to choke him, but never letting up, either. Brian tried to keep his lips wrapped tightly around his teeth, mindful of the cold presence at his head, trying to swallow so that he wouldn’t gag. God, he was being used, same as any bitch in a porn video, and he loved it, being helpless and having to take it. He wanted, suddenly, nothing more than for the guy to fuck him, just like this, while he was blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed.
The guy suddenly pulled away, breathing hard. He hadn’t even come. Brian swallowed and wanted to wipe his face; he was sure his chin was covered with drool.
“Well, that was delightful,” his captor said, breathing hard, and Brian felt a hand brush across his chin, taking the worst of the mess away. “I’d better return the favor.” And back he scooted, and oh thank God that divine mouth finally sucked him in. God, but queers gave the best blowjobs, with just the right amount of pressure and suction, teeth kept neatly out of the way, lots of good tongue action. He didn’t mind staying tied up if he got blown like this all night.
Except then the guy suddenly stopped. Again. Brian whined in protest.
“I’m not done with you yet,” the voice purred. Brian heard a drawer open next to the bed. The rummaging and clanking seemed to go on for a long time, probably on purpose to make Brian nervous. There was the unmistakable sound of a glove being snapped on. Brian started getting jittery again, now that he wasn’t getting blown or blowing someone else, and his cock flagged.
“Oh, no.” The voice sounded genuinely put-upon. “Can’t have that.” A few professional strokes, some well-placed tongue, and Brian was back in business and panting. Then the guy heaved up one of Brian’s thighs and felt back, in the sweaty crack behind–oh, no. Nuh uh. No fucking way. Maybe he’d wanted this, but he hadn’t been prepared for it, and now that brutal reality was making itself known in the form of a finger exploring his asshole, Brian rebelled and kicked. The guy caught his ankle and retorted with a firm pinch to his balls.
“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” All the menace was back in that nasal little voice. “I have the gun, and I can always find another toy.” This time, Brian let the guy push both his knees up against his chest, and he held them there. It’ll feel good, he told himself. The guy said it’d feel good.
The intrusion wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. The guy’d used some kind of slick. It was cold at first, making him squirm a little, but quickly warmed. God, this was taking forever; just how big were the guy’s fingers? And then his body decided to hell with this, things did not go in the outbox, and clamped down. Rather than force it, though–Brian’s breaths were getting quick and thready–the guy stopped, stroking Brian’s side. He gave Brian’s cock a few good tugs, too, really good, that slick stuff was all over his hands, and eventually Brian relaxed enough that the guy could keep going.
“Breathe,” the guy murmured, still stroking Brian’s cock with one hand. “It’ll start to feel good, I promise.”
Fuck you, Brian wanted to yell, you’re not the one with a finger up your ass! Then the finger rotated and curled and touched something oh holy Jesus so fucking good inside him his vision actually went white. When he could see again, the finger was gone, and his ass was begging for it back. He was on the verge of it too, but then the finger returned, this time with a friend. They were stretching him open and it hurt, but he knew it was going to be amazing in a second, when they got to that place inside. And it did, so much so that he even groaned, and just when it started to not hurt so much, the guy pulled out–slowly, gently–and worked a third finger inside. That really hurt, but it was also really fucking good when they started thrusting in and out, brushing that spot maybe every third time. Brian wanted it to hit that spot every time, it was so good he was going to fucking rip someone’s ears off if it didn’t happen some more. At some point the hand had left his cock and he felt like he was just gonna hang and hang and hang and never, ever come.
“Fffuck,” he whined.
“Was that a random expletive, or an actual directive?” his captor queried. The fingers stopped.
“Nnnooo,” Brian moaned.
“Oh, well then.” And the fingers took up where they’d left off. Then he paused, fingers deep, and stroked.
All of Brian’s pride crumbled to ashes. “Oh God fuck me,” he panted. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me I don’t care if you fucking shoot me after just fuck me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” The fingers retreated, leaving Brian feeling bereft at first, but he told himself that there was gonna be something so much better, and sure enough, there it was, just pressing in. It felt huge, and at first he thought, with something like real fear, that he wasn’t gonna be able to take it, but then the voice reminded him: “Breathe.” He breathed. When the guy was all the way in, he worked Brian’s legs over his shoulders, which was good because Brian had been getting pretty tired holding them up.
One long thrust in, then out, and every pleasure-neuron lit on fire. Then another one, then another, faster and faster, and it was so fucking good. Brian couldn’t remembered the last time he’d been fucked like this, he was over the moon, but goddamn did he wish he could just touch himself. He wasn’t gonna come just from getting fucked in the ass, and his cock was begging on his belly. But no matter how he pulled or rattled the cuffs they just weren’t gonna give, and he thought he might start fucking crying soon if he didn’t get to come. And then–what do you know–his captor reached up and did something, and Brian’s hands were suddenly free. And, okay, this was a fantastic time to punch the guy’s lights out and run the hell away, but he was getting fucked here, and Brian had his priorities. So he used one arm to brace himself, to keep from getting fucked into the headboard, and shoved the other between them, jacking himself furiously. It wasn’t long because he came, shooting all over the goddamn place, and after that it was just lying there, feeling blissfully fucked out, until the other guy came, too.
They lay there for a while, and eventually Brian said, “Fuckin’ A, Jake.”
Jake stirred and slipped out. Brian felt a little sad about it, but mostly he felt boneless. “Not bad, huh?” Jake sounded pleased with himself. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Nah, takes more’n that to bruise me. ‘Sides, you were right, those cuffs are really comfortable.” Brian rolled his shoulders to work out the stiffness and peeled off the blindfold. His eyes felt strangely sensitive, even in the dark of their bedroom. “You should top more often.”
“Oh God no, honey, it wears me out,” Jake said with a dramatic flutter and roll of the eyes. “And you have no idea how hard it was not to just get on top and ride you, you all nice and hard like that. Maybe I’ll do that next time,” he added, sounding kind of hopeful.
Brian shivered. He wasn’t amiss to the idea at all, but, “Hey, don’t tell me what you’re gonna do. That takes all the fun out of it.”
“Oh, but I’m always full of surprises,” Jake said mildly. He sounded drowsy, and Brian rearranged them so that they were cuddling properly, Jake’s head pillowed on his shoulder. Poor guy really was wiped, but then, he had put on an admirable performance. Brian looked around the room, then poked Jake in the shoulder.
“Hey,” said Brian. “Where’s the gun? What’d you use?”
“On the nightstand,” Jake replied without opening his eyes.
There was nothing on the nightstand except the lube and Brian’s fountain pen, which come to think of it, what was that doing in here? Unless. . . “Did you kidnap me with the Waterman?!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t fuck you with it,” Jake said, sounding smug again. “Well, maybe next time.”
