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Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 02

Category: Gay Male
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I was already in love with Elijah by the time I saved him from a rapist thug, but I hadn’t really admitted it to myself.

I first noticed him when I was manning a merchandise stall at No Way Out — the big venue hired for hardcore punk gigs where both straight-edgers and skins can come, kids from either side of the bridge and the two different scenes.

I saw this really cute straight-edger hanging around in the crowd, talking to some guys I know. He was average height and slim — skater slim rather than vegan thin. He was in shorts so I could see the nice shape of his calves, but his top was oversize and robbed me of any view of his torso. He had nut brown skin and the vivid black drugfree Xs on the back of each hand.

I’ve always wanted to hook up with a straight-edge guy. It’s like fucking a Christian, so hot because you know they want you so bad they’d give up their morals to have you. But most straight-edge guys are gross — the drug free scene goes hand in hand with veganism and I’m not interested in skeletons. It’s no fun ramming your hips into a bony ass.

But this guy was a real babe, and he also seemed shy and nervous — his motions were jerky and he kept tucking his wavy hair behind his ears, tugging at the big tunnels he wore through his ear lobes. He’d look down when he was talking, and peek upward like he was scared of making eye contact but wanted to check he wasn’t being laughed at.

I love shy guys. I love bossing them around and seeing shock and worship on their faces. The last couple guys I’ve been with have been shy, uni kids I pick up through my job as a mechanic. I love that moment when you break through their shell and find out just how slutty they secretly are.

The guys he was talking to were bogans, rough as they come. I knew them as acquaintances but they were both losers and I had no interest in being friends with them. What the hell did they have to say to a cute straight-edger?

I leaned over to the punk chick watching over the merch table next to mine. “Who’s that straight-edge kid talking to Luke and Asha?”

“I don’t know, Damien — why don’t you go ask?” She winked at me as she talked. All the girls in the scene want to be friends with me because it’s so cool to have a gay friend, prove you’re not a homophobe.

I slouched back in my chair and pulled my hood down over my forehead. Normally I would just go up to that guy, start charming the pants off him right up front. But I got in a fight with a skinhead this week — a different skinhead, one of those racist Aryan pricks — and it left me looking a bit shit.

I waited until Luke drifted over to the merch table and was flicking through some EP’s.

“Hey Luke, who was that guy you were talking to before? Little straight-edge kid?”

Luke’s face lit up in admiration and I felt myself getting angry at him for no reason. “That’s Elijah Court, new tattooist at Defiant. He’s a genius. Did my back piece.”

I muttered something in reply and looked past him at sexy Elijah, now laughing with a fat bearded guy and a group of other straight-edgers. I wondered how much persuading it would take for him to take my cock.

I started hearing more often about the new tattooist at Defiant. I’d look in at Elijah, once I even went in to watch him tattoo a puma on my mate Karl. He got a real intense look on his face when he tattooed, it was hot to watch. He was good at it too. I found myself getting more and more interested in this shy little guy.

I usually didn’t go to big gigs that often. No way Out sounds like a good idea — combine the two scenes to get bigger crowds, more money, that community harmony bullshit, a wider range of guys to check out. But it works out kinda shit — everyone’s so ready to start a fight. If you throw a punch and hit someone from the other side of the bridge you’ll get lynched. And what’s the point of going to a hardcore gig if you can’t just throw a couple punches?

But I wanted to see sexy Elijah. So I was going to more combined gigs, even if my guys didn’t come with me and it meant hanging out with half strangers. I was getting obsessed with Elijah, maybe because I hadn’t gotten laid in so long but also because all the guys were going on and on about what a genius he was. It was like everyone was in love with the guy but he was still this completely shy loner.

If I had guys lining up to talk to me I sure as hell wouldn’t still be as shy as him. Girls giggled over him too, for that matter, but I was pretty sure he was into guys — I’d seen him sizing up a guy’s crotch every now and then when he though no-one was looking. It made me ache to have him sneak a look at me that same way, to stare at me with that same needy lonely expression.

He was at Now Way Out one Friday night. I was standing outside talking to some of the guys and having a beer before heading in and I suddenly felt this tingling in my spine. I turned around and there was Elijah, walking along looking down at his feet with his baggy tee being whipped around in the wind and his basketball shorts swirling around his knees.

His wavy shoulder-length hair was tucked behind his ears, making his stretched lobes look huge — the tunnels stuck out from the side of his head like cup handles. He was hunched over as he walked, trying to protect himself from the wind. As he drew up closer to us one of the guys I was talking to turned and saw him and called out.

“Hey,” Elijah said, coming to a jerky stop and glancing around dazedly. His eyes didn’t even seem to take me in. Fuck, and I was wearing my best tight black leather jacket and the bleached jeans which cupped my package and made it stand out like a tasty sausage ready to be eaten. Straight guys stole looks when I these wore pants and this shy little guy glanced past me.

Kyle was engaging him in conversation — talking at him, really; Elijah was just standing there nodding. From a few paces away I could see the goosebumps on Elijah’s defined forearms. I wondered if his nipples were hard under that loose tee, whether they were sharpened into little peaks that would be sensitive to the touch. The thought made my cock jerk and I nearly moaned out loud. I openly rearranged my junk, looking straight at Elijah and hoping he’d notice the movement. No luck. He just made his awkward goodbyes and wandered off inside.

I kept an eye on little Elijah all night, watching him standing around in the crowd, joining in on conversations but never starting any. It was a pity he was drug-free, he might be a lot less shy if he just had a beer to nurse all night.

During the third band I lost track of him, the crowd were really heating up and starting to push in around the stage. I was up at the front pumping my fist along when I suddenly saw Elijah push his way into the fight pit, spinning those toned arms around. He was so much smaller than the punks in the pit and of course he got knocked straight over. No-one seemed to notice. He was going to get trampled. I quickly grabbed him and dragged him away from the fight pit.

I only meant to help. But once I had my hands on him I wanted more. Elijah’s warm slim body felt so good in my arms and I realised he was totally at my mercy. I let my left hand slip under his baggy tee and feel his skin. His belly was flat, like I knew it would be. His ass pressed against me, round and inviting. My dick swelled in my jeans.

I let my fingers slip under the waistband of his loose shorts. No boxer line. It was fashionable to wear your boxers higher than your pants but either Elijah wasn’t into that or he wasn’t wearing underwear. My cock jerked again at the thought. Oh, fuck yeah.

“You okay there little guy?” I whispered into his ear but it came out more guttural than I’d meant. The flesh of his big stretched lobes rubbed against my lip and it was all I could do to not lick him right here in public. It felt like he was trembling slightly, like he was scared. Such a turn-on.

Under his shorts his skin was moist with the sweat from dancing. I followed the long fine hairs of his snail trail to the waistband of his underwear – damn — and stuck a couple fingers under.

Elijah twisted in my grip and looked up at me. I met his eyes. I wanted to just smoulder at him and melt him with my sexiest grin. But the look of shock and fear and urgent desire in his eyes sent a jolt through me. My smile faltered and I found myself just staring into his face.

And that’s when his friend came up and got all in my face, yelling at me enough that the band stopped playing. That’s the problem with No Way Out — everyone’s always ready to start a fight and you just have to stand there and take it.

The only consolation was seeing Elijah tugging at the hem of his tee, obviously trying to hide an erection. That made me grin.

I went outside to grab a smoke. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, I wanted to brood and think about that hot little ass Elijah had been rubbing into me. The sexy flatness of his belly. The weird way he’d looked at me like I was saving him from drowning. But, oh. That ass, that body.

I was on my second smoke, alone behind the building, when the backstage door burst open and Elijah himself walked past.

He headed to a beat up old Corolla and opened the driver’s door then quickly climbed in the backseat. What the fuck? I looked around and we were alone, I thought about maybe following him in but he was already crawling back out. He was holding a pair of drumsticks.

I wasn’t going to miss a chance to talk to him, maybe even hook up with him out here where we were alone. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d made a guy suck me off out back of a gig. I’m sure Elijah would be interested, he’d loved my hands on him.

“Hey,” I called back after he locked the car. “You play drums?”

“No, my friend Pete. My boyfriend.” He was jittery as anything, staring at me then looking away quickly.

Boyfriend. Ugh. The one who was so quick to get up in my face?

“That fat hairy guy is your boyfriend?”

Shy little Elijah was so quick to defend him. “He’s not fat,” He shot back, glaring at me. I saw his eyes run down my body and I subtly shifted my legs so my package would be more noticeable.

Was he only into bears? I wouldn’t stand a chance. But no boy had said no to me yet. I bet I could change his mind. Fuck him so good he’d forget that fat hairy ball of anger.

I introduced myself and held out my hand, and he stumbled the shake and messed up introducing himself and turned bright red. Fucking cute. On his skin the blush was a deep ruddy brown, it looked like warmth was just radiating off him.

I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. Which was weird, I’m not an affectionate guy — you treat anyone too nice, they start getting attached and wanting to stay around. But I wanted to touch Elijah.

Probably just me needing to get laid.

He was talking again, looking down at his feet. He was quiet and awkward, fidgeting like he was nervous. Nervous to be around me? “I’m sorry my friend was acting like a jerk before, he was just worried you were hurting me.”

I took a deep drag of my cigarette and held before letting it out. Might as well make a move now. I looked up at him and said quietly, “That’s not what he was worried I was doing to you.”

Elijah basically creamed his pants right there and then. He started coughing like he was stalling for time. Then he asked me what I meant, acting totally innocent. I grinned.

“Your friend was worried I was going to lay a hand on that virgin ass of yours. He’s damn right to be worried, too.”

It didn’t get the reaction I wanted. Elijah looked like he was about to puke. Sure, it was strong, but most twinks love that. Plus I clearly meant it – I wanted this guy bad, and I wanted him to know it.

But he didn’t melt, or drop to his knees, or look like I should walk forward and push him to his knees. He hunched himself right over like he was trying to hide in his oversize shirt, his eyes skitting around and looking at anything but my winning smile.

I looked straight in his face and grabbed my crotch, feeling my half-hard dick in my tight jeans and cupping it into a fistful of manhood for him to look at. His eyes dropped to my crotch and widened. For a few long seconds I thought I had him. But then he stuttered something about having to go, and rushed passed me. I called out his name instinctively but he was already gone.

Looked like he really was into his fat boyfriend. Fuck.

I live in a shitty flat outside above an old mall. The last two owners fell down the narrow stairs and died so someone decided it was ‘cursed’. Good for me, I got it cheap. It’s the wrong side of the bridge for my scene — most of the ska and skinhead gigs are on the other side of the river, in a strip of dodgy pubs and sex stores the straight-edgers wouldn’t dare walk past. But it’s easy to catch a bus to work and it’s a place of my own. I like it.

I spend most my free time hanging around outside anyway. Sometimes my mates will come round, or I’ll just hang out alone and have a smoke. I people-watch a lot.

The Saturday after being rejected by Elijah I was alone. I thought about crossing the bridge and meeting up with my guys, but it had been a hard week at the garage and I kinda wanted to be alone. I took my transistor radio downstairs and stood around my doorstep, listening to some music and having a smoke, beer, and my own party for one.

About eleven at night I was feeling pretty buzzed and thinking about heading out after all. The mall I live by used to be real busy but they built better places closer to town and now this side of the city is kind of a wasteland, there’s no bars and stuff here. So there weren’t many people-watching opportunities and only the occasional drunk stumbling by.

I was shocked to see a familiar skinny figure walking down the middle of the poorly-lit street, head down and hands in pockets of his oversize shorts.

“Elijah!” I called out.

He looked up. I could see his face squeezing up as he squinted to see me in the dark. I took a deep drag on my cigarette so it burned bright and would cast shadows on my face. Can’t make the job too easy for him.

“Why you walking alone? These streets aren’t safe at night.”

“You’re alone,” He called back. He was just standing there, in the middle of the street, squinting at me.

I grinned. Feisty little guy. “Let me walk you home,” I called out, and I started walking towards him.

“No thanks.”

I stopped. Was that fear in his voice?

I was close enough now I could clearly see Elijah, even in the dim light from the street lamps. He was in his usual oversize outfit, hiding the cute body I knew was underneath. There were dark shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping much.

“You going home from a gig?” I was trying to be friendly. “It’s a bit early to be heading home, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything. He was looking down at his beat up black Chuck Taylors, but he kept half lifting his head like he wanted to look at me.

I took a long drag of my cigarette and watched as the action drew his attention. I deliberately lowered the hand that held the cigarette and grabbed my crotch with it, readjusted my growing bulge. His eyes followed the action. But as I raised my hand to my lips again I noticed his eyes were following me, not looking at my crotch at all. That move always worked on guys. Was it possible he was more interested in my tattooed arm than my cock? Seemed like that was what he was looking at.

“Let me walk you home,” I offered again. I crossed my arm lazily over my belly, letting him have a good look at my tattoos if that’s what he wanted. He gawked at my arm, but looked away quickly.

“I gotta go,” He mumbled, and had started away at a quick walk before I could think of anything to say.

Now I thought I knew a way to get at Elijah.

I’d seen the way he looked at my tattoos, with the kind of longing I reserve for a tight ass. He obviously had a weakness for body mod — just look at those ears, the months it would have taken to slowly stretch his lobes larger and larger until they were the size of milk bottle tops.

Maybe I could use my tattoos to make him take an interest in my body.

I skulked outside his tattoo parlour on the weekends until I finally saw him alone behind the counter. It was two weeks since I’d seen him walking home alone and he’d rejected my offer of company.

“Do you have time for a lip piercing?” I asked as I crossed my arms and laid them across the high counter.

Elijah looked up from the book he was sketching in and his eyes went immediately to my left arm, travelled along my tattoos before flicking up to my face. His lips were slightly parted and his face filled with desire. Oh, fuck yeah. If he’d only look at my cock the way he looked at my tattoos I’d be happy.

Get him hooked on my tattoos, draw him into the rest of my body. No use getting a tattoo from him — I’d seen him with doing that puma for my mate, he’d been so focused. He didn’t have care whose torso he was inking and I wanted him to know damn sure that it was me he was touching. If he had his hands all over my mouth, looking into my eyes… Yeah, that would get his attention.

Elijah cleared his throat with a little cough as he met my eyes and replied, “I can ask one of our qualified piercing –”

I cut in, “I’d like if you did it.” I was now leaning fully on the counter, my body tilting forward so I was only a hands length away from his face as he sat on his stool.

I lowered my voice and ducked my head down so I was looking at him from beneath my lashes – with my strong eyebrows and the way I throw my broad shoulders back, it’s sexy and killer. I know because I’ve tried it in the mirror hundreds of times. “I have a tattoo inside my lip, I don’t want it to get damaged. I need someone good.”

Elijah swallowed visibly, staring into my eyes like he was trapped. Fuck, that little lost boy expression on his face. I just wanted to push him against the wall right now, give him something to smile about.

But an instant later he’d turned away, pulled on a clear glove and was in full professional mode. “Let me see.”

I leaned forward even further and opened my mouth, letting my lips fall open and pushing them forward slightly like I was miming sucking an orange. Or sucking a dick. I heared Elijah’s breathing hitch but he didn’t say anything, just reached for my lower lip. He was trembling.

His fingers touched my lips. I could feel the thrill even through his gloves. Warmth spread from his fingers and through my body. I could feel his breath against my cheeks and see the fine hairs on his chin, just poking out like he needed to shave.

His eyes were so open and inviting, I gazed at them and, just as his fingers touched my skin, Elijah looked at me and our eyes met and I felt a tingling in my spine and a sudden rush of blood to my cock. Fuck, I had it bad for this guy. I needed to fuck him real soon.

Elijah looked down at my mouth and carefully pulled my lower lip out. He actually gasped when he saw my tattoo — ‘FAG’ in gothic lettering across the fleshy underside of my lip.

“Holy shit,” Elijah said, and it was so calm — not a shocked cry. I wondered if maybe I’d put him into shock. But no, just his professional focus. “It shouldn’t be too hard to place the piercing if you don’t want it centred.”

I nodded and uncrossed my arms so I could hook one of my fingers into my mouth beside his, the palm of my hand brushing across the top of his gloved hand and sending a little shiver down my arm. I pointed to the right side of my lip to indicate where I wanted it placed.

“You’re not after a snake bite?”

I raised an eyebrow — I couldn’t talk with our hands in my mouth.

“A piercing on each side, to sit around the tattoo?” He took his fingers out of my mouth and raised them to his own to mime a piercing on either side on his lower lip. I could see some of my saliva on his gloved fingers and I imagined him just sucking it up. My cock jerked.

“I don’t know, I’m easy to please.”

I met his gaze full on and tried to melt him with my eyes. He turned away to toss the gloves. I lowered my voice and delivered the killer blow in a husky whisper right at his ear. “What would look better when my lips are wrapped around you cock?”

It was a lie, of course — I’ve never sucked a guy, but the offer always drives them crazy so they’ll do anything for you. It worked. Elijah’s stumbled backward like I’d punched him in the gut. I grinned. All boys can be broken, and this sexy little virgin was going to be mine.

“Come on,” I whispered. “What would you like to see?”

Elijah cleared his throat again. He was looking down and blushing real dark. He mumbled, “A lot of people like the snake bite because any swelling is balanced and it gives an even appearance.”

“But what do you like?” I dropped my voice even lower. Elijah was actually shaking.

“One,” He whispered.

“Okay. Just one. Let’s go.”

He made me sign some forms before leading me into the back room, but there was no more mention of getting someone else to do the piercing.

“I’m focusing more on the tattooing side, but I have a free hour before lunch, so…” He explained, in a shaking voice. I thought about asking him to lunch but I wasn’t sure what state my mouth would be in half an hour from now. I wasn’t going to try and seduce him with a swollen lip.

He nodded at another employee, a girl who was hanging around by the tee shirt stand, and she happily took over the counter for him. I noticed her eyes lingering on him. Back off, bitch; this one’s been claimed by Damien.

As I came around the edge of the counter I noticed Elijah was trying to pull his tee down further over his jeans. I couldn’t see anything beneath his baggy clothes but I knew he was hiding an erection.

Elijah lead me into an unoccupied room right at the back of the store by the big mirror. He closed the door after us. I knew it was normal but it felt private and sacred.

I lay down on the tattoo chair without being asked. Elijah glanced at me before going over to the sliding draws with all the equipment and jewellery. I was wearing a fitted black tee and cut-off jeans, tight enough to pull at my balls as I lay down so I grabbed the crotch of my pants and readjusted. Elijah didn’t look, he never bloody did.

“Ring or barbell?” He asked over his shoulder.

“What’d you like?”

“Ring,” He was quick to reply this time. I was getting to him, taking charge of him. “Just don’t play with it too much.”

I sent him a smouldering look full of sexy double-meaning but he totally missed it.

The room was small. Just the chair and a stool beside it, a bench with drawers for equipment and jewellery. My black Docs looked huge propped up on the chair’s footrest. And I could hear Elijah’s breathing, the slight hitch with every inbreath that proved he wasn’t as cool and professional as he acted.

He settled down on the stool at the right side of my head, and leaned over to rest his elbow across my collarbone. I could feel his body trembling. The hitch in his breath became more obvious this close — or maybe I was making him more nervous.

His arm was warm against me. I felt like my body was filling with warmth, spreading from the places he touched. I could see the hairs on his arm and a couple little nicks on the backs of his fingers. My cock started plumping up. Right now I could just grab his head and kiss him, he was that close. I could have my way with him right here in this tiny room.

Elijah had gloves on again and gently pulled my lower lip out to look at the tattoo again — was that a shudder of desire through his body? — then marked a spot on the outside of my lip with marker and checked inside again. He held up a mirror for me to check the placement.

The actual piercing was over quickly, needle in a plastic sheath then the ring pushed through and the plastic removed. Sharp, intense, quick. Elijah’s face was intent as he worked, but he sat back happily after clipping the sleeper closed and glanced over my body as he stood up. It was only then I realised I’d totally rocked up — I’m not into pain, but something about being that close to Elijah and having him so focused on me just turned me on. The pain of the piercing was actually kinda hot with Elijah so close.

I glanced down at my crotch and saw my cock was clearly outlined in my tight jeans, bulging to the left and pushing against the fabric so it moulded to the shape. A tasty mouthful outlined in denim. Try not noticing that, sexy Elijah!

I kept lying down as Elijah pulled of his gloves and dealt with the trash of little plastic packets. He was tugging at his tee again so I knew I’d had a good effect on him. He kept taking tiny glances at me, like he couldn’t resist. Too fucking cute. I saw him flick his eyes across my tattooed arm and away, and then he half-turned to glance at my crotch before blushing deep brown and knocking his hand noisily on the container he was trying to open.

“You can look, if you want,” I said in my most seductive voice. It was only slightly slurred by the pain in my lip. Elijah nearly fainted. His whole body shook and his head jerked back. Man this guy was wound up tight, it was too easy to get him worked up — and too easy to imagine what it would be like to fuck him, to have him twitching and writhing like that when I had him bent over with my cock up his ass.

“My tattoos, I mean. You can have a look, if you want,” Elijah was still looking away so I quietly added, “I’m sure your man wouldn’t mind.”

Elijah turned to face me, bracing his hands on the supplies table behind him like he needed support. I held out my left arm to him, pushing back the sleeve of my tee and acting like I wasn’t nursing a very visible boner.

“But you’re… You know,” His voice was cracking with nerves and arousal. “You’re… a skinhead.”

I nodded and waited. Then I figured out what he meant. “You mean, I’m a racist homophobe with a bunch of mates waiting outside to lynch you? That’s what you think?” Elijah looked down and bit his lip.

“Elijah, for fuck’s sake, I shave my head and wear Docs and go to gigs, that doesn’t turn me into an asshole. None of that white supremacy shit makes sense and it’s not what being a skinhead is about — just like picking scraps with skins isn’t what being straight-edge is about. Bullshit stereotypes. I’m sure as hell not going to beat you for looking at me.”

Long and passionate speech, I was proud of myself. And it seemed to work.

Elijah hesitated, then got the stool and brought it around the table so he could sit on my left side. He was trembling. “Why’d you get… You know. That word. Tattooed on your lip?”

“It’s just a word. It’s only an insult if we let it be,” I shrugged. “I think it’s kinda cool to snare at a guy and show off that tattoo right before I beat the shit out of him — like, ‘you can think I’m weak for liking dudes but I can still kick your ass’.”

I grinned at Eli and he smiled back then blushed. He took my arm in his hands carefully and tenderly, nearly lovingly, and stroked his fingers across my skin as he stared down, absorbed in my tattoos.

I think tattooed guys are hot, but that’s nothing on what I saw on Elijah’s face — like a love or hunger, like he needed to be looking at my tattoos and touching them. He traced his finger tips across the big hibiscus, the trail of stars filling up the skin on the way to the koi, the patch of roses. None of my tattoos are original, but Elijah was staring like they were works of art.

He was putty in my hands right now and I couldn’t resist. I pulled my arm gently out of his grip and lifted myself up on the chair so I could pull my tee off. I heard Elijah’s sharp intake of breath but I didn’t look at him until I had the tee bunched in my right hand and lay back down on the padded chair, looking up at his face.

He was gazing down at my torso like a starving man looking at a buffet, his eyes flickering around, unable to focus on anything. I took his hand and placed it on my pec, between my collarbone and left nipple, so his fingers were resting on the calligraphy inked in black there. He seemed to finally come to his senses, and ran his fingers across the two lines of words which crossed my collarbone like a heavy necklace — ‘Loyal neither to friend nor flag, only to music’.

I know I could stand to lose weight, a few too many beers hanging around my gut. But otherwise I know I’m hot. I like the way the muscles form along my sides and how my hips look in my low-slung jeans. I have a smattering of dark hair across my chest and a thick dark trail leading into my jeans, begging the eyes and hands to follow it down.

I figured I could have been the fattest guy in the world though, and Elijah wouldn’t have noticed. He was focused on my tattoos, the lettering on my collar bone and the tips of the colourful bird wing from my back piece which came through onto my sides — I watched the fascination on Elijah’s face as he stroked down my ribs.

He was completely absorbed in my body. His breathing was short and rapid and his eyes were wide in amazement. I was feeling it too — it was so hot to feel worshipped like this, it had my belly fluttering and my spine tingling. I could feel sweat forming on my back where it touched the white vinyl of the chair. I loved the trembling in Elijah’s hands as he ran them over my skin. Every brush of his fingers was going straight to my cock.

He tugged at the barbell through my left nipple. I gasped and my back arched and Elijah whipped his hand away quickly, like he had only just become aware of what he was doing. He blushed darker than I’d seen yet, and actually ducked his head down like he could hide it from my view. He looked mortified.

He cleared his throat and got out of his chair, tugging at the hem of his baggy tee again. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he walked me out and I didn’t say anything to him — but inside, I was purring in delight. I was so in.

I saw Elijah a couple more times over the next few weeks. Each time I thought he would be mine and I was more and more obvious in my flirting — once I told him that I could fuck him so hard he’d forget all about his boyfriend, once I actually groped him through his wet tee shirt and jeans. He’d always reject me, though I could tell how much he wanted me. That just made me want him more.

Then a whole month passed without me seeing him. Work got busy, I had to take up six days and Defiant wasn’t open on Sundays so I never got a chance to see him there. There weren’t any combined gigs and a big fight between one of my mate’s and a straight-edge gig promoter meant I couldn’t even try and find him on his own turf. I waited around outside my flat most nights but I never saw Elijah walking past.

I was stuck alone with my hand every night, running through the same memories of Elijah.

Then one night I was lying in bed stroking myself when I heard a pounding at the door. When I got to the window I saw Elijah walking away. I pulled my boots on without socks but by the time I got downstairs he was nowhere to be seen.

I looked through side streets for him and had almost given up when I found some Aryan jerk beating a guy on the ground. I was already running when I recognised the little guy as Elijah. Holy shit.


I was lying on the ground, bruised and bleeding with my head ringing and the stench of urine all around me.

Damien had my attacker on the ground and was kicking him like he wanted to kill him. When I told him to stop, Damien stared at me.

I thought he was going to ignore me because he turned back to the guy and stomped on his head. But then he spat angrily on the guy’s face and walked over to me.

“You okay little guy?” He asked. His voice was low and raspy, his face screwed up in concern.

He hooked an arm under my neck and tried to help me stand up but I was a real wreck, staggering and barely able to get to my knees. He put his arm around my waist as well and used both arms to haul me to my feet.

I was dripping gross all over him, but there was nothing I could do. I was staggering like a drunk. It felt like the earth was tilting under my feet and my head was agony. I thought I might throw up. I stank.

I wasn’t very conscious of where we were going, just leaning on Damien and blubbering to myself and hoping we would stop moving soon so I could lie down and never get back up. I was aware of him opening a door with a key and then some steps — so many steps! — that he helped me up. Then we were pushing through a door into a narrow corridor and Damien was dragging me into a bathroom and I nearly collapsed onto the floor of the shower.

The shower had a bathtub in the bottom and Damien had to help me clamber over the high rim of the tub. He turned the shower sprinkler on then climbed in behind me.

I turned my face away from the sudden rush of frigid cold water and Damien swore and started apologizing, tilting the head of the shower away and waiting for it to warm back up. Then he turned the water back on to me and started washing me. I tried to help but I was really quite useless, barely conscious. Everything was spinning and I really wanted to hurl.

I was conscious of his hands, running thought my hair and on my face and tilting me this way and that so I got enough water washing over me. He dragged my sopping wet tee shirt off me and fumbled with the button of my jeans. I didn’t resist, just moved however he wanted to get me naked.

All I could see was a blurry distinct shape — the crying and the beating combined to mess with my sight. I started shaking for no reason.

“It’s okay,” Damien whispered. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest, his legs parted so they lay on either side of me and his wet jeans rubbed against my thighs. “It’s okay. We’ll just wash you off and get to bed, okay?”

I tried to respond but only a wet globby noise came out when I opened my mouth. We stayed in the shower, Damien gently tilting my body so the water could run over different bits of it, until the water started to run cold.

I woke lying in a ridiculously soft bed, my head on a cushion which felt like heaven. There was a warm naked body spooned up behind me and I rolled over to grab onto Pete, nestle into him.

Only it wasn’t Pete¸ and I was in agony. My head throbbed and when I moved it was like my whole body was being stabbed with blunt sticks. I sucked in a breath and whimpered and Damien half-woke beside me, mumbling and pulling me closer to him.

Everywhere my bare skin touched him felt warm and sticky. The hand that gripped my ribs made them feel bruised and tender, but when Damien pulled me against him I felt his erection poking against my thigh. Shivers travelled down my spine and across my arm and suddenly I wasn’t feeling pain, I was just feeling the heat of his dick against me. I just closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep.

The next time I woke up was when Damien was trying to feed me. He had cut up some bacon and eggs and was trying to fork it into my mouth. I gagged at the smell and twisted my head away. “Vegetarian,” I muttered.

Damien snorted and pushed the bacon off the fork, started poking poached eggs into my face. I pushed him away, memories returned of last night and the man. I didn’t want any more experiences with having things shoved in my mouth. I started to cry and must have fallen back asleep.

I finally woke up feeling starving and desperate to pee, and it was gloomy in the bedroom. Damien wasn’t there. I staggered out of bed and nearly collapsed on the floor, hands and knees on the gritty carpet.

I thought about dragging myself out on all fours but I didn’t know where the bathroom was and didn’t think I could find it if I was crawling along like a baby. So I forced myself to stand up and walked like a drunken person, clutching at my side where it hurt.

The bedroom exited on a narrow hallway and I looked to either side. One way lead to a staircase, the other to a small room with a table in it. Damien was sitting at the table and when he heard me he rushed over to help.

“Come on, little guy, don’t hurt yourself,” He murmured reassuringly as he wrapped his arm around my naked waist and helped guide me down the hall. “Looking for the toilet?”

I tried to say yes but my throat was all scratchy and my lips felt like they’d been stung by so many bees I could barely force them to open. A weird noise came out like a strangled baby goose but Damien didn’t make fun of me, just guided me down the hallway to an open door.

He led me through and over to the toilet, his arm around me the whole time. When he reached to grab my cock I pushed him away with a jerk of my elbow. I could do that much for myself, at least.

I grabbed my flaccid penis and waited for Damien to leave, even giving him a pointed look. But he stayed where he was, arm around me and hand on my hip for support. He wasn’t looking at me but it was still mortifying. I really needed to pee, so I aimed and let loose.

It was so humiliating, the sound of the stream in the bowl and having Damien just stand there with my dick all limp. I felt sick, thinking about last night, the smell reminding me of being pissed on. I gagged and Damien’s arms held tighter around me.

When I was done he helped me to the hand basin and then back to bed. I looked up at him and he was wearing his glasses, I could see the reflection of the glass like points of moving light in the blurriness of my messed up eyesight. I wanted to tell him how good I thought he looked in glasses, but none of the words came out.

He helped me back into bed and paused to claw his own clothes off before crawling in after me, pulling my back to him. The blankets were around our waists and I could see the dark shapes of the tattoos on his left arm. I fell asleep in his arms.

I slipped in and out of sleep for a long time. Sometimes Damien would be there, holding me or feeding me or helping me walk. Sometimes I would wake to find the house empty — he was at work. He put his number on my phone and left it by the bed so I could call him anytime if I was worried, but I managed to drag myself to and from the bathroom okay.

I guess I could have gone to the hospital, but honestly I didn’t feel that beat up. I was battered and hurt, but it wasn’t long before all the pain was just bruises and I knew I couldn’t have any internal damage. Mainly I tried not to think about the attack. I’d watch TV or try and sleep, just keep my mind off what had happened.

A couple times I had nightmares about giant dicks peeing all over me, but when I woke Damien was there to calm me.

It was a week before I was properly lucid and able to think straight.

I woke up with Damien’s dick pushing up against my back and his breath hot and dry against my neck.

I lay still, feeling the unmistakably hard hot flesh flexing and growing against my butt. Most of Damien’s body was pushed up against mine, we were touching along the entire length of my leg. But it was definitely that erection which had my attention.

I felt the familiar gnawing sensation of arousal, felt my own dick plumping up and lifting away from my body. I wondered if I could touch it without Damien waking up. If I grabbed and squeezed, just squeezed and didn’t move my hand up and down, I could probably get away with it.

Very carefully, I shifted my hand from where it was on my hip. I hovered it along my body, finger tips brushing my skin and sending little shivers up my body. My dick throbbed as my fingers drew close to it, pulsing up and away from my belly so it was easy to wrap my hand around it. The feeling was so good I had to bite my lip to suppress a moan. I was here, in bed with Damien. Not a fantasy anymore. His erection was pressed right against me.

I squeezed and released my dick, letting the pressure build up until my whole body was tingling. The muscles in my legs were tightening and making my feet arch and my toes curl in arousal.

I gently shifted my hips up and down so my butt rubbed against Damien’s hard length. The friction was sweet torture. It felt like little flecks of electricity were moving through my body from his erection, setting all my nerves tingling and making my dick hard and aching.

My nipples contracted into sharp points and the cool air of the bedroom felt like gentle waves on my flushed skin. I looked down and saw the head of my cock poking out from under the blanket, just the head, but it was swollen and dark, dripping need onto the sheets.

I felt Damien’s dick pulse against me, responding to the contact, and it sent such an intense shiver of pleasure through me that my back arched and my head jerked back. The back of my skull collided hard with Damien’s face and I felt his body stiffen as he swore and grabbed at his nose.

Oh shit. Panic flooded through me as I wondered what I should do — pretend I was asleep? What if Damien kicked my ass over this?

But he merely rolled over so he was on his back, breaking the contact between his dick and my skin, muttering swear words under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Damien grumbled under his breath a bit more before replying, “It’s okay, I hit you with my club and you fought back. Anyone would.”

It took me a few moments to figure out he was talking about his dick, then I snorted in laughter and screwed my face up at the embarrassment. “Oh my god,” I groaned.

“It’s okay,” He repeated. “Just give me some warning next time, before you go and break my nose.”

We just lay there for a few moments, me still blushing and completely humiliated, hot waves of embarrassment rushing over me and letting me forget my bruises for a while. Damien was slowly rubbing his nose and occasionally grumbling under his breath or snorting experimentally. Finally he said, “You beat your boyfriend up like this too?”

“We broke up,” I said. The words kind of shot out of me, like I was desperate to say them. I really wanted Damien to not think I was a slut, cheating on my man. But mainly I really wanted him to know it was okay to touch me now.

Damien was silent for a few moments. I was lying on my side so I couldn’t see his face and I realised I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Butterflies of fear were swooping in my belly, fighting it out with my arousal at having Damien all naked and hard beside me.

“Would you like me to touch you?” Damien asked. His voice was so low it was like a growl shivering along my spine. I whimpered and bobbed my head up and down in a furious nod. He leaned his head in so he can lick just beneath my ear and whispered, “Let me see you.”

And then he was gently pulling at my hip so I rolled over onto my back. He pushed the blankets down and away and I felt my dick springing free and sticking out in the air. I closed my eyes tight, too nervous to look down at myself.

His mouth was still at my neck, I could feel his breath against my collar bone. And then I felt Damien’s fingers trailing onto my chest, exploring my bare skin, and the pleasure was so intense I moaned aloud and my head tilted back at such a sharp angle it made my neck twinge.

He tweaked one nipple and I moaned. Then he moved his mouth so his breath was on my nipple and when I felt his tongue flick out and touch me it was just too much. I opened my eyes and looked down at him, looked at my naked body, covered in bruises but spread out with Damien attached to my chest and my hard dick sticking up, purple and swollen and dribbling pre-cum onto my belly. Oh my god, it was too hot. Damien was touching me.

I grabbed my dick and squeezed and that was all it took. My back arched and all the muscles in my belly went tight, clenching up as my dick pulsed and my cum shot out across the back of Damien’s head, across my belly, across his hand.

I whimpered and squeezed my dick again, easing out the last few ounces of pleasure. Was this what it would be like every time Damien touched me?

I met his eyes and they were glazed with desire. I wondered if he would want me to touch him now too. I’d love to, he was so hot; but the thought of it made me panic — thinking of his dick near my mouth just made me remember last night and made me want to puke.

Damien kept staring into my eyes for a few moments then he gently shifted so he was lying on his side. The blanket was still draped over half his body so I couldn’t see him but I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh and it was equal parts sexy and terrifying.

But Damien didn’t pressure me to do anything. He lifted the blankets so I was covered. I rolled onto my side and he pulled me against him. Gently. I could feel his dick pulsing and throbbing against my butt crack but he just lay there with an arm wrapped around my belly until I finally fell asleep with my own semen dribbling down my chest.

I woke.

Damien was watching me. He was propped up on his elbow, blue eyes intensely focused on my face from beneath those dark eyebrows. I noticed there was purple bruising around his eye, some scabbing around his lip piercing and his lips were swollen.

“You got hurt,” I croaked. I went to raise myself up on my elbows as well, but my shoulder flared up in pain and I sunk back down again.

Damien’s face flushed with concern. “Stay lying down, I’ll get you food.”

I called out protest but he was already taking his hands off me and getting out of bed. I didn’t want to get up — I had to admit, if he was willing to look after me then I was willing to be looked after.

He walked back into the room a few minutes later with a bowl of cereal, still completely naked. His dick wasn’t fully erect now, though it was clearly plumped up — nestled fatly on his dark hair, rubbing against his thighs as he walked.

He put the bowl and spoon on the pillow beside me and pulled the curtain open — the window was at the head of the bed, so he brought his thighs right up into my face to reach it, I was staring directly at his heavy package. And when he reached up to grab the ratty old curtain, the motion made his dick swing up and away from his body a little, so it came dangerously close to my face. I was having trouble breathing again.

Damien started wandering around the room tidying — picking up clothes and boots and magazines from the floor and putting them away in drawers or the washing basket in the cupboard. With the curtain open I could get a good look at him in the morning light. He looked like a total mess.

He was covered in bruises. His ribs and sides were purple and green from the bruising, and I could see the dark specks of blood at the surface even on his back — which was mostly covered in a breathtaking tattoo of a phoenix with sweeping wings. There were scabs across his collar bone and the back of his head. One running down his neck and onto his chest was a nasty dark red like it was a very deep cut indeed. His lip piercing also looked red and tender which was worrying, it should look healed by now.

For all the damage he was totally hot. His legs and arms were nice and defined, muscles flexed when he moved. I could see the strength which had let him carry me off the road and up a flight of stairs. His little pot belly stuck out from his sharp hips and his butt was just perfection — smooth and pale with just a dusting of freckles, the muscles tightening and releasing to form ripples like a sand dune as he walked.

Every time he bent over I’d get a glimpse of his hairy balls from behind, his dick hanging half-plump, and maybe even a peek at his most private hidden place. I wondered if a tough guy like him ever let anyone touch there.

“What happened to you?” I asked at last, finishing off my cereal and putting the bowl on the ground so I could lie back in bed without worrying about knocking it over. My dick was erect again. When I lay on my back it pushed up at the blankets and made a little tent over my crotch.

“What do you mean?” Damien asked, raising a white singlet to his face to sniff before tossing it in the washing basket. I had a sudden impulse to grab it back, to bury my face in the smell of his sexy manly body.

“You’re covered in bruises. Was it… Was it that guy?”

“Nah,” He drawled, shrugging. The movement did fascinating things to his shoulder and back muscles. His tattoos rippled. “Just went a bit too hard at a gig last Friday. This is why I don’t ever want to see you in the fight pit again,” He grinned, gesturing at his bruised chest and looking at me with his head cocked so he was glaring out from under those dark brows. My heart fluttered. “How are you feeling?”

I groaned and lay my head back down.

Damien snorted his laughter. “You’ve been out a whole week, it’s crazy. Have you been having a rough time lately?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “Uni and stuff. I haven’t been sleeping great. Nice to catch up.”

“I called Defiant to tell them what happened so you don’t have to go back into work. Is there anyone else I should call?”

I shook my head. The action sent off a storm of ringing noises. “What did you tell them?” I asked after a moment’s thought.

“Just that you got beat up. I think the girl on the phone was impressed. You want me to call your parents or anything?”

“No, they would just think I got what was coming to me — they kicked me out when I came out to them in my last year of high school.”

Damien looked shocked. He straightened up and stared at me.

“You okay about it?”

“Yeah, I was never good enough for them and I was always going to let them down anyway. I live in a flat now, low rent but hell.” He was looking at me sadly, but his dick was ignoring his sadness and starting to twitch and rise up away from his balls. My body did this to him?

“Well listen, I’ve got to get into work. You’ve got my number and stuff if you need me. I get back about five thirty.”

“That’s fine. Thanks for letting me stay here,” I added. The thought of having to deal with my rowdy flatmates when I was this beat up was miserable.

“No prob,” Damien grinned. There was a sparkle in his eye as he looked at me. “Now I’ve got you in my bed I’m never letting you out again.”

I blushed and he laughed. He got dressed in some cargo pants — it was the first time I’d seen him in something which didn’t cling tight to those legs of his — and a polo shirt with heavy work boots.

He picked up my bowl from the floor and hesitated like he might kiss me on the forehead. But instead he just brushed my face with the back of his hand and said, “I’ll see you this evening. Help yourself to the kitchen.”


Elijah was all I could think about all day at work.

The way he had looked naked, even with his eyes nearly swollen shut. Even when he was crying. Crying is such a turn off. But on Elijah? Fuck. He was hot. That tight little body. The way he couldn’t take my eyes off me. How needy and eager he was, cumming as soon as I touched him. So rewarding.

Needless to say, I was dripping pre-cum into my pants all day. Wish I’d worn underwear, I guess that’s what it’s for, catching all your excess pre-cum.

I was so relieved when five o’clock came. I rushed out the door with my overalls still on and had to run back into the lockers to change. My co-workers were laughing but as I stripped out of my work overalls I just told them, “Hot date” and they seemed to understand.

I was nervous getting off the bus, I actually jogged to my door and up the stairs. I couldn’t wait to see Elijah. All these weeks, now here he was in my house and in my bed. But what if he’d left?

He hadn’t left. He was there, standing in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. He stuck his head around the door to check it was me then grinned happily and went back to working.

“Hey,” I growled, leaning on the door frame and gazing at his tight little body. He was wearing my clothes, one of my old tee shirts clinging to his chest and a pair of my loose work pants hanging off his hips. He looked so good in my clothes.

“Hey,” He replied, and looked nervously at me over his shoulder before smiling again. “I’m cutting up some veges for omelettes.”

“You wanna cut up some bacon too?” I teased and he wrinkled his nose at me. “Listen, you mind if I go out for a quick smoke? I really need one but I wanted to check you were okay first.”

“Do whatever you like,” He replied, and kept cutting up broccoli.

The omelettes were ready when I got back up. Elijah had cut up red capsicum in thin slices to look like bacon, I snorted in laughter when I saw it and Elijah grinned like an idiot.

We ate on the couch in my tiny living room, watching the sports highlights on the news. I kept stealing glances at Elijah. He was quiet, even when I tried to joke with him. I guess he might still be in shock or something. PTSD like in a war movie. I never know what to say to people when they’re upset.

Finally I just asked him, “You okay? Wanna talk about it?”

He pulled a face by puckering up his lip then winced as the motion hurt his bruises. He mumbled, “Not really.”

Even covered in bruises he was sexy. I couldn’t help staring at him, at his creamy dark skin and the curve of his back as he leaned over to eat. Even though he was clearly sad, there was still a ghost of a smile around his plump lips and his eyes were bright. I could stare at that face for days.

Elijah snorted at something funny on the tele and turned to me to make a joke. His laughter turned to shock. What was my face doing?

“This morning was really hot,” I told him. “I had your cum on my head all day.”

He dropped his plate in shock and that made me start laughing. He was so nervous. I hoped it was just arousal and not trauma. Should I be taking it slow? How did you treat rape victims? But this morning he hadn’t been acting like a victim at all.

I decided to be direct. If he said no, I’d listen.

He was leaning over the chair, scooping up his spilled omelette crumbs. His tee shirt — my tee shirt — was riding up his back. And my pants were too big for him and gaping in the back so I could look right down them and see his smooth brown skin and the top of his ass. Oh, fuck yeah.

“Elijah,” I cleared my throat. “Would you like some sex later?”

He froze. I could see the side of his face turning dark with a blush.

“I’m um,” He stuttered. “I’m um…”

“You’re a virgin?”

He nodded sharply and a beast in me purred. I’d suspected, but it was good to know that fat fuck of a boyfriend hadn’t popped his cherry. Obviously hadn’t treated him very good either, Elijah practically creamed his pants as soon as I touched his chest this morning.

I was used to sluts, guys who were delighted for you to fuck them and leave them. But Elijah was different. He needed to be taken care of, to be taught that sex was awesome. I could do that for him. I could treat him so good he’d be mine forever.

“I’ll take it slow,” I told him. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it. You’ll forget you were ever scared.”

I gently placed my hand under his chin and lifted his head. His whole body shivered from that simple touch.

I tilted his head so he was facing me, and the vulnerability in his big brown eyes made my heart lurch. He was at my mercy. I could do anything to him.

I stroked my thumb across his lower lip and felt him tremble at the contact. He had such beautiful, sexy lips. I even liked his bruises — I was so used to seeing them on myself, I thought of a black eye and a scratched face as a sign of courage and anger rather than weakness. He looked hot bruised. Maybe I could teach him to fight, so he could defend himself next time some dick tried to beat him up.

I grinned at the thought. Elijah’s face lit up when he saw me smiling and that was all the permission I needed. I gently pushed his shoulder, and rested my other hand on his hip so I could guide him onto his back on my couch.

Elijah obeyed, lying down on the couch cushions with his head on the arm rest. I lifted his legs onto the couch then settled between them and looked into his eyes.

He was staring at me with his lips parted. His breathing was short, his chest heaving with each pant. He wanted me so bad.

I let my fingers brush over the tent he was making in his pants. He gasped. I undid the button of those pants, slowly. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do.

“Be patient with me,” I whispered. “I’ve never done this before.”

When I unzipped his fly Elijah gasped again. I looked up to see his head tilted back and his eyes squinted into tiny slits. His face was contorted like he was in pain but I could tell from the little trembles of his body and the gentle thrusts of his hips that he was just desperately aroused.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear. I pulled the fly open to reveal his dark hair and the base of his cock, swollen and pressed downward by the pants. I grabbed the waistband of the trousers and pulled them down, Elijah lifted his hips to help me without looking up or opening his eyes. When I had dropped the pants on the floor, I reached up to yank his tee up so I could see his smooth belly.

“You’ve got a nice cock,” I whispered, letting my breath tickle across his sensitive skin. Elijah’s body jerked and his cock waved around. It was small and slim but even and nice to look at, uncut with the foreskin tight across the dark head. I was glad it was small, it would make me look more like a pro if I managed to deep throat him.

I swallowed. Was I sure I wanted to do this? But, what was I so scared of? Losing my macho image? Who the fuck would know, except Elijah? And it was obvious he wanted me to touch me, I’d known since he practically fainted at the mention of it that time in his piercing parlour.

And I wanted it. Desperately. I wanted to make this boy scream my name when he came. I wanted to make him look at me like I was the god he worshipped. And I wanted to feel what it was like to have a cock in my mouth. Elijah’s cock.

I reached out with my trembling hand and ran one finger along the underside of Elijah’s cock, from the base to the tip. He cried out and his hips jerked again and I felt a ripple of pleasure. He was so turned on! By my hand!

I circled my fingers around his crown, feeling the velvety softness of his skin. The foreskin had peeled back more of its own accord and I could see his moist tip poking out, the dark pulpy red of his slit oozing out slow drops of pre-cum. I gently pulled the foreskin down to get a better look at the rich dark head of his cock.

Elijah let out a loud moan. He wiggled his hips, desperately moving in my hand.

I knew how I liked to be touched and I figured he would be the same. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, just below the crown, and jerked experimentally up and down. I put more emphasis on the down stroke, moving slow. At the bottom of the downstroke I squeezed with my lower fingers. I did it a few times, looking up to check that Elijah was still writhing around in ecstasy with his head thrown back.

I hovered with my face near his cock, my breath dusting over his exposed head. I waited until Elijah lifted himself up to look at me with lust-filled eyes, his mouth hanging open and a low needy groan escaping it. “Damien… Please…”

I opened my mouth, curling my lip back briefly to show off the ‘FAG’ tattoo. I hovered there a few seconds, my lip ring a tiny fraction away from his sensitive flesh. Elijah groaned and pumped his hips up so his cock was thrust into my mouth and I instinctively closed my lips around it. Elijah whimpered. His eyes were wide like he was surprised at his own daring.

My heart was racing now and I could feel myself starting to sweat. There was a cock in my mouth! Elijah’s skin was warm, and slimy around the head. I knew he was small but he felt huge in my mouth, much bigger than anything I’d ever eat. I probed carefully with my tongue and felt the ridge of his foreskin, the change in texture from velvety smooth to pulpy and slick. I licked up a tiny bit and tasted the salt of his pre-cum.

He sighed and I realised I had just been sitting there in shock. I kept my mouth on him and wrapped my hand around his cock, started slowly pumping him again so his foreskin moved up and down. This time I could have my hand lower on his shaft because my mouth was over his head, and I could gently lap at his slit with my tongue.

This close I could smell the manly, musky scent of his crotch and it made my head spin. I hadn’t been this close to a guy’s crotch before. It was hot.

I opened my mouth a little wider and slid my head down slowly, letting my tongue flick around his shaft and feel the slight ridge of a large vein running along the underside. I couldn’t get far before his cock head was rubbing at the back of my throat and making me gag. I pulled back up but kept his cock in my mouth. I was suddenly feeling sorry for all the guys I’d face fucked — I hadn’t realised how difficult this was.

I tried to do what I liked on me. Head bobbing, tongue flicking. Squeezing and stroking with my hand. I got a rhythm going and started being less scared, more aware of the strange feel of a warm velvety cock in my mouth.

I also noticed how tense Elijah was. Muscles were standing out along his neck and arms. His bruised abs were clenched into ridges and his hips stood out in a sharp ‘v’ from his flat stomach. He was grabbing the air, tightening his fist around nothing.

My own cock was straining in my pants and when I looked down past Elijah’s cock I saw a dark wet patch forming on my pants. Oh, how much I would love to just crawl up Elijah’s body and shove my cock into his mouth!

But I restrained the urge, and kept slowly moving my head and hand. I got a little more confident and moved faster, listening closely to the sound of Elijah’s breathing. It started to hitch and he was mumbling under his breath. It didn’t make sense but it was hot to listen to.

I sped up even more, gripping firmer with my hand, and Elijah started whimpering. He bucked his hips and his cock went straight into my throat and made me gag. It made me want to hurl and I had to pull back to get some air. But oh fuck, he was so turned on! His whole body was trembling and he was making the hottest little noises.

My own cock felt like it was about to burst. I wanted so bad for Elijah to touch it. Instead I just rubbed it through my pants and the friction was making me moan around the dick in my mouth. I hoped Elijah was anywhere near as aroused as I was right now. I couldn’t believe it was this hot to pleasure someone else, to taste and smell their arousal and see the orgasm slowly building up.

Elijah was steadily leaking pre-cum into my mouth, I had to keep swallowing it and some would slip out and mix in with my spit, slicking up his cock and forming bubbles between my fingers. I tried to move my head even faster, risking whiplash but loving the way Elijah cried out. I gripped my hand on his cock as tight as I thought he could handle

“Holy shit Damien, don’t stop,” He gasped, panting for breath and bucking his hips. His hands were bent into fists and I could see his arms shaking with the force of his grip. “Don’t stop Damien, oh my god, I’m going to cum!”

I moaned around his cock but the sound came out as a bubbling slurp.

Elijah gasped one sudden deep breath and his whole body tensed up, I felt his thighs lifting off the bed from the extreme tension his body was under. “Oh my God, Damien, here it comes, I’m going to cum in your mouth!”

And then he was cumming. I felt a pulse in my hand like the cum was moving just under the skin, just beneath my fingers, and then my mouth was flooded with warm salty liquid and I swallowed it without hesitating, keeping my hand moving as I juiced another spurt out of him.

Elijah was muttering incoherently. “Damien, oh yeah, oh my God, oh my God yes.” I kept moving my hand, stroking along his shaft, but slowly and with a looser grip. I pulled his foreskin back so I could lick all around his cock head and get the last drops out of his slit. Then I caught it with my lips and pulled it back over his head as I moved my head away.

I looked into Elijah’s face and saw pure bliss. His grin was lazy and there were happy tears oozing down his cheeks. “That was amazing,” He whispered.

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. He was so fucking happy to have me touch him.

“You’re so hot Damien,” He whispered. My grin got so big I thought it might rip my cheeks in half.

“You’re hot too,” I told him, looking into his bruised and swollen face and truly believing it.

Elijah smiled sleepily. “Everyone will think I’m a cool tough fighter now.”

I snorted in laughter at the thought of skinny shy Elijah as a tough fighter.

“I’ll tell everyone I beat you up,” He added. I started laughing out loud.

I helped Elijah into the bedroom and on to my bed. It was still early but I could tell he was tired. That boy could sure sleep a lot.

He tugged his tee shirt off and rolled into my bed naked. I grinned — shy Elijah, just taking his clothes off. Getting nearly beaten to death seemed a great way to get a guy into bed.

He watched me getting undressed. When I dropped my pants my hard dick slapped up into my belly and left a little arc of pre-cum in the air. Elijah’s eyes got all big. I couldn’t help smirking. He wanted me. One day, hopefully soon, that boy would be mine.

The bed was narrow enough that we had to be touching. I tucked Elijah up between me and the wall, wrapping my arms around me so his fragile body was all surrounded by my big frame. My dick pulsed and throbbed against his butt. I tried to ignore the gnawing need in my belly.

“Tomorrow,” Elijah whispered. “We should go into my work and get something for your lip. It looks like it’s been ripped and you don’t want bacteria getting in there.”

“Elijah Cock Bacteria,” I whispered back. His body convulsed in silent giggles and I held him to me, loving the friction on my dick.

The next day we took the bus to Defiant. Normally when I got back from work I took a shower or at least washed my hands — they get covered in grease — but Elijah was keen to leave so I didn’t waste time. He’d been inside for a week and he was excited to see daylight.

I had my arm around his shoulders on the bus and Elijah leaned into me. He looked happy, smiling like an idiot. His bruises were fading but one eye was swollen and surrounded by black.

The pretty goth girl behind the counter at Defiant looked delighted when Elijah walked in. Her smile dropped as he walked closer. “Oh my god, they really did a number on you,” She whispered in pity.

Elijah just shrugged and headed into the back rooms. I wasn’t sure if I should follow him or not so I just hung around the counter. The goth chick was giving me weird looks. Maybe she was wondering if it was me who hit him. Or — I remembered the way I’d once seen her flirting with him — maybe she was wondering what our relationship was.

Elijah came back out with a small white bottle. He insisted we put some on my lip right then and there. I made a big show of leaning into him and putting my hand on his waist as he dribbled the liquid onto my swollen lip. When he finished I grabbed him by the wrist and kissed the palm of his hand, looking straight into his eyes. He blushed and grinned. When I glanced at the goth girl she was looking shocked and disappointed. Damn right.

“Can I take you out for dinner?” I asked. We were still so low and my voice came out a low growl.

Elijah’s eyes crinkled up when he smiled at me. It was adorable to look at.

We wandered along the streets looking in at restaurants. Elijah didn’t seem interested in anything so we ended up just buying food court Indian. We ordered it to take away and I lead Elijah down to the river path.

We found a private spot on a large flat rock hidden by trees. You couldn’t see it from the walking path but it had a wide view of the river. You could even see the main bridge.

I wrapped the empty takeaway containers in the bag they’d came in and jogged off between the trees to put them in the bin. When I got back Elijah was still on the large flat rock, standing there and looking out over the water. He looked so hot.

I walked up behind him, trying not to let my heavy work boots make too much noise on the smooth stone. He didn’t flinch when I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my body up against his. His back was pressed into my chest and I could feel the warmth of him through our shirts.

I rested my chin on his shoulder so my face was pressed against his neck. He had such a thin neck, I was so much stronger than him that I could just strangle him right here and now and there was nothing he could do about it. But I didn’t want to, I wanted to touch him, to feel that fine body twitching and writhing and see bliss on his face again.

I ran my hands up Elijah’s chest and let my fingertips linger on his bare arms. He shivered slightly and made a soft little sigh. When I ran my fingers over his nipples, Elijah’s whole body shuddered and his butt pressed back against my crotch.

I growled and pushed my hips forward. His ass made delicious friction against my engorged cock. It felt like all the blood in my body had pumped to my cock. Like my whole circulation was pulsing in time with my throbbing cock.

Elijah’s ear was so close to my mouth. I breathed out gently and watched as goosebumps rose on his neck and the little hairs along his neck stood on end. I leaned against him until his shoulder blade pushed my nipple piercing into my skin.

I closed my mouth around Elijah’s ear lobe and sucked gently, running my tongue around the plastic circle of his big flesh tunnel then flicking my tongue inside. I pulled back and whispered into his ear, “I could stick my tongue right through your ear lobe and lick your neck.”

Elijah laughed, but it was a shaky laugh. It made his body tremble so his ass rubbed against my cock again.

I groaned. I had to feel him. Who cared if it was in public, I wanted to feel Elijah and I should be able to. And anyone who happened to see was lucky, getting a glimpse of my sexy Elijah.

I nipped at his neck and let one hand drop down to his crotch. Elijah started whimpering at once, keen for more.

I massaged the front of his jeans, trying to grope for his cock beneath the bulk of his fly. I felt the undeniable warmth of his cock pushing against the denim and into my palm and I gave it a little squeeze.

Elijah choked a noise. It was more a gasp than a moan, he was breathing too shallow and quick to manage anything more. His head was leaning back against my shoulder and I noticed he had his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. He was blessed out and oblivious to everything except me.

He was wearing a belt to keep the jeans on — they were an old pair of mine, too tight for my hips but loose on his narrow body. I had to fumble it off and the moments wasted felt like agony. Finally I could unzip him and pull his fly aside and let his beautiful cock spring free.

I couldn’t do anything for a few moments except stare at him. I was tall enough that I could lean over his shoulder so I could run my eyes over his chest and down to his slender cock, jutting out from the heavy denim.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. He looked so good, out here in the sun. “You don’t mind..?”

“Please,” He gasped. His body trembled. I was used to guys begging, but I wasn’t used to feeling a lurch of pride and delight from knowing that I was doing it right.

I growled deep in my throat and pushed at the loose jeans until they fell down to his knees. I looked down at his little dick sticking out into the air, all exposed and visible to anyone who wanted to look. Oh, fuck yeah.

His foreskin had pulled back to expose the rust-coloured head of his cock and I watched my hand close around the silky column. His cock was in my hand. There was sticky pre-cum forming bubbles around his piss slit.

“Fuck, you’re so turned on,” I growled, watching the pre-cum oozing out and forming a gooey pool around his foreskin. “You’re so hard for me.”

“Yeah…” Elijah moaned. His breathing was short and sharp. I could feel his arms tensing as he clenched his fists.

I shoved my other hand inside his shirt so I could feel his lean belly. His whole body was trembling and I could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach tightening in arousal. Oh, fuck yeah. I found one pointed nipple and tweaked it hard enough that Elijah squealed. His body shuddered and he pressed his ass back into me to let me know he liked it.

My cock was trapped between our bodies and I knew there would be a giant pre-cum stain on my pants. I was so close to just shooting right here and now. It was kinda hot — the tingling all through my body, like I was gearing up for a fight.

I gripped Elijah’s cock firmly and began to stroke hard and fast. Elijah cried out in delight and started bucking his hips in time with my strokes. He was ramming his hot little ass up against my cock again and again. I bit down on his neck and sucked at the skin to keep myself from swearing out loud at the great feelings.

“Oh God,” He was whimpering. “Oh Damien… So good!”

I pinched his nipple hard so he shuddered back against me. I held him there, his body pressed against mine. My hand on his cock was going crazy, moving as fast and gripping as hard as I could without hurting my wrist.

“Damien…” Elijah panted. “Oh, Damien, I’m gonna blow, oh my god, it’s too good!”

I sped my hand up even more, using the strength of my whole arm. I felt Elijah’s whole body tense and start to shake. His head jerked back so the back of his skull whacked into my cheek bone and the pain made me see stars.

“Keep going Damien, I’m going to… I’m going to… Oh fuck, I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” He cried, so loud anyone would be able to hear him from the path, and he shot his creamy semen all across the rock and my hand.

“Holy shit,” I whispered into his neck. There were still lights popping behind my eyes but I could focus on the delicious sight of Elijah’s semen gushing out of his pulsing dick.

I kept stroking him as I listened to his breathing slow. Finally Elijah’s body went limp and I helped him back into his jeans.

He turned round to stare up into my eyes. He was so close. He looked flushed and delighted. “Holy shit Damien, that was amazing.”

“I aim to please,” I smirked. I didn’t mention that I thought he’d been moaning loud enough for anyone on the path to hear.

I couldn’t resist resting my hands on Elijah’s hips as I talked. His own arms quickly locked around my waist and he leaned into me. I felt the soft tickling of his breath at the collar of my shirt.

“You smell like greasy car,” He complained. The top of his head was barely in line with my nose.

“It’s my job to smell like car.”

Elijah looked up like he was about to say something else, but he stopped suddenly. His lips were so close that I could feel his breath. Suddenly my head was spinning and, before I could think about what I was doing, I let myself lean forward just enough for our lips to touch.

There was a sudden burst of cold that was Elijah’s sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t pull away. I opened my mouth and felt the gentle chaffing of my chapped skin against his smooth lips. I pushed my tongue out to stroke across his lips and Elijah responded by opening his own mouth and flicking his tongue out invitingly.

Holy shit. So this was kissing. I’d never let a guy this close before. I’d never given a shit about a guy like I did about Elijah. But now here he was in my arms and it felt so fucking right. I didn’t want it to stop.

I tightened my arm around his neck until I nearly had Elijah in a headlock and pulled his head hard enough against me that our front teeth knocked together with a sliding squeaking sound. I sucked his tongue into my mouth and was surprised to feel the rod of metal shifting around in there. I’d never realised he had a tongue piercing. I imagined what it would feel like sliding over the head of my cock and I groaned into Elijah’s mouth.

Elijah made a tiny whimper in the back of his throat. I sucked his tongue like I sucked his cock last night, inexperienced but loving it. I held his tongue captive with my mouth so the balls of his steel rod settled against my front teeth and my lower lip.

I could hear him whimpering more frantically now, the sounds turned into vibrations in my mouth. His hands were scrabbling at my shirt like he wanted to get in at my skin. The kiss was passionate and intense and so intimate that when I finally pulled backward, breathless, I was amazed to see that we were still right there in public.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s go home.”

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