Bath, Bed, and Beyond (No Relation to the Famous Chain of Stores) Bath, Part II
Siktici Copyright 2004
A man, silhouetted against harsh red light on a nearby wall, stood tall and massive, with the sides of his thick beard burning as if on fire. Leather covered his entire body, except for the horn that Bernie had been sucking. As the stranger moved into the cubicle the light caught the glistening horn, where Bernie could see just how large it really was. Its size exceeded anything Bernie had seen in any porn movie. Bernie's only thought at that moment was he wanted that horn goring his ass. With a leather codpiece in hand, the stranger said nothing to Bernie, and for several seconds, Bernie heard the beating of his own heart. It wasn't fear beating into him; it was longing, urgency, a need to be taken, a need to be used.
Wordlessly, the leather stranger pushed a gloved hand into Bernie's chest to move them both into the darkness of the cubicle. And after closing and latching the door, he grabbed Bernie's face with both hands and smothered him in a deep aggressive kiss. As he felt Bernie give way to his advances, he thought to himself: This is a boy I can use.
They kissed deeply, drawing whatever breath Bernie had in reserve. His body disobeyed him and opened fully to Gary, whose gloved hands moved about Bernie's taught muscles, his bubble butt, and his small but erect nipples. Gary moved to those nipples, hiding in sparse but silky hair, to suck and nibble Bernie into rising desire. He's got a hairy chest--good boy.
Always the aggressor, Gary found feelings rising in him he thought long gone. He felt paternal to this younger man, almost protective. How could this be? How could these feelings come so soon? This type of shit is for old fools.
And Gary was certainly no fool. He had survived the initial AIDS holocaust, had survived the death of two lovers, and had survived a mental breakdown: all events ending a decade ago. Yet, these events had not stopped his urge to hunt, to feel the night air caress the leather he wore. It was the leather that brought him the edge, that edge that turned him into a hunter, and an indifferent abuser. But with this guy, Gary didn't feel the usual urge to arbitrarily abuse. He had promised that he would never be in a position of vulnerability. That having survived meant that he had no choice but to live. So, with all that had happened to him, he promised he'd never fall for anyone. But his body, and his soul, ignored his resolve. This guy seemed different, seemed as if he needed to be used, need to be owned--but this man was also scaring him.
Gary shoved Bernie out of their long, deep kiss. They both breathed deeply, the breath of men in lust and in hope for more. Finally, Gary spoke. "You like this, boy?" He asked, deftly punching Bernie's chest.
Bernie shook his head, and then quickly realized they were in darkness. "Yes, Bernie said breathlessly. The word puffed from his lips rather than eased the way he had intended.
"Fuck yeah, I can tell. You act like a good boy. Are you a GOOD boy?"
"Yeah," Bernie said. This time with control and authority, but he didn't expect the response. A gloved hand smacked the side of his face with more pressure than pain. Startled, he took a few steps backwards.
"Now, let's try this again," Gary said, he voice deeper, hefty with command. Are you a good BOY?"
"Yes, sir," Bernie said, more tentatively, the last word ending in a question. This passive voice, this need to please slowly consumed him. Use me, his mind requested. He pushed the voice away. Use me,' it insisted. Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me, "USE ME!" Bernie shouted, unable to stop himself.
SMACK! The shot caught the other side of his face but he didn't move. He lowered his head and his hands came together behind his back. "You don't get to TELL me anything, boy," Gary explained. With his body, Gary backed Bernie to the wall behind them, then leaned with his bearded face inches from Bernie's, who felt the small hairs tickle his forehead.
Bernie was confused. Why am I letting this guy hit me? What if this guy is some freak, who's into pain and shit like that? What if he just knifes me right here? Those were questions coming from a far off place, words that were slowly becoming faint. Use me Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me, Use me played in his head until he shook it slightly to stop the words. "Yes, I want to be used, Sir." He said with the meekest voice he had ever uttered. But his body--tingling with desire, his balls on fire, and his cock beating a river of precum into the towel around his waist--gave indications that he definitely wanted to be used.
Gary answered with a kiss that communicated everything Bernie had asked. Their tongues spared and caressed, while Gary stripped away Bernie's towel, found his balls, and pulled with enough force to cause Bernie to lean forward but Gary also pulled with enough care to show that he wasn't going to hurt him. How did he know? Bernie asked himself.
Gary had thought of his own: The guy's doing the right things and saying the right things, but is he the boy. He certainly was going to find out.
They kissed away time and pushed into each other, trying somehow to get closer than their bodies could bring them. With each kiss, Bernie thought he might drown, while Gary thought he might explode. The metal cockring tightening to insistence kept Gary's cock hard and gorged. He needed relief, but he also needed Bernie's submission. Is this guy up to my use? He asked himself.
"Meet me out front and don't make me wait, boy." Gary commanded, and with a final pull of Bernie's cock, Gary slipped through the door, into the purple balminess of the bath.
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