CAN'T RAPE THE WILLING
Kevin Donovan
letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com
What follows is a work of gay erotic fiction, featuring bondage, domination, some light kink. It is completely fiction. All participants, if they existed, would be over the legal age for consent wherever you live. If you yourself are under that age, leave now. The author never condones any kind of coerced sex or unprotected sex. Like all Nifty authors, I get inspiration and encouragement from your comments, so please don't be shy.
This is only my second Authoritarian piece: the first was "The Harem," October 11, 2001.
CHAPTER ONE: `JAKE'
Jake left "The Rack" just after 11:00 in a surly mood and set out walking toward home. He couldn't decide if he was more angry, more hurt, or just more bewildered. It was almost as if Ethan had picked the fight with him on purpose. Clearly, Ethan had been drinking for a while already, and clearly, he was nursing a grudge. He started ragging at Jake the moment he arrived and never really let up until Jake finally blew up, told Ethan to fuck off, and stormed out into the wet night.
Problem: While Ethan had come to the bar from work, Jake had ridden over with Alex, planning to ride home with Ethan, and did not have his car. Of course, he didn't think about that, in his emotional state, until after the storming out. Now he had the image of poor, handsome Alex, gape-mouthed, staring back and forth between him and Ethan toward the end of their altercation. Shit. He could hardly go skulking back into the bar now to beg Alex for a ride home. He could always get a taxi, well, most always. But shit. There didn't seem to be any passing, and Jake wasn't sure he really wanted to fool with one, anyway.
Problem: it was a twenty-five minute walk home, on dark streets. It wasn't cold exactly, especially for late November, and he had his jacket on, and boots. But the rain continued to drizzle, and he'd be soaked by the time he got home.
Fuck. A hot shower would fix that, or maybe a sit in the spa out back, and he needed the time to figure out what the hell was going on with Ethan, who was normally the most even-tempered, affectionate, and loving guy he'd ever known. When had Ethan ever said a cross word to him? They'd never fought, in all these years. What the fuck could he have said or done to provoke such a premeditated verbal assault, in front of all their friends? It must have been a build-up of a number of slights and affronts--but what? "Am I really that much of an ass, that I can totally piss off my life-long best friend and lover, and not even know it?" he wondered.
Problem: Wherever that outburst back there came from--how could they make up again? COULD they make up again! Life without Ethan was not something he cared to contemplate.
As he stomped along through puddles and across gutters, he ruminated on the past few weeks with Ethan. Granted, Ethan wanted to move in with him, and he had said no. That had to hurt, though Jake had tried to soften the blow with extra loving. The sex between them had been fabulous as always. Nevertheless, the wounded expression on Ethan's sexy, boyish face hovered in Jake's memory. Damn, he loved that guy, and what a treasure he was. All the other guys envied Jake, not so secretly, in the fact that Ethan so blatantly adored him. Until tonight.
"I love you, too," Jake had assured Ethan, just four nights ago. "I do. I just don't think it will be good for us to live together at this point." He sipped his Sauvignon Blanc and tried to look casual. Ethan studied him intently. The two were naked, as they almost always were when together at either one's place, and immersed to the shoulders in Jake's bubbling new spa, which took up a corner of the patio by the fence.
When pressed, more by Ethan's smoldering silence than any pleas, he confessed, "OK, here it is: I want you, I need you, I love you. You're damn near perfect, Ethan. You're the best lover I've ever had, so beautiful, so considerate, so kind, sweet even. Not to mention hot. I just--I'm just not ready to be exclusive yet. I want my freedom a while longer. I'm not ready to settle down, even with perfection. Can you possibly understand that?"
Ethan even looked fabulous when his feelings were hurt. The slightly elongated, Nordic facial structure. The sandy-blond hair, neatly trimmed. Smooth-shaven, tanned face, with its somewhat Romanesque nose, wide mouth, and hundred-thousand-dollar teeth. And shit--those incredible deep blue eyes. All of this on a model-quality, six-foot, tanned and ripped frame.
"What's the matter with me!" Jake burst out to the vacant, wet street-scape. A mostly- black cat scurried off under a parked car. "I mean, what the fuck is the matter with me?" He heard a window slam shut a house or two away. "I have the perfect man, abso-total-lutely in love with my ass, and I can't commit to him? Am I INSANE?"
The following night, he and Ethan, again in the bubbling waters of the new spa, had made tender love to one another, not exactly as if nothing had transpired, but still very passionately. As Ethan's seed erupted into Jakes' slick and appreciative ass, both men sighed. Jake nibbled gently at Ethan's right ear, knowing how that drove him crazy. Jake reclined on the "lounge seat," his knees raised out of the water above Ethan's back. He settled them back down after Ethan bred his ass. Ethan rested atop his body as they both liked to do after sex, chest to chest, feet hooked under feet, Ethan's long cock still hard and still imbedded, just drooling now, but no longer thrusting, in his partner's butt.
"We lived together all through college."
"Yeah, and it was great. Perfect. But that was so different--it was a dorm, and then later the frat house. Total group thing. Now, we're on our own, we have our own digs, but we still have time together, too."
"So--what, then?" he asked softly. "Tell me what you want for us, for yourself? What IS it time for? What do you want from me?" His tone was demanding, yet gentle.
Jake knew Ethan deserved an answer, and he tried to explain himself as clearly but non-judgmentally as possible.
"Well, I know how this sounds, but truly, believe me, it is not you, it's me."
"Go on. Are we breaking up?"
"Oh, no, Ethan! Hell, no! I love you deeply, with all my heart. If I lost you, I'd be devastated. No, not that at all. I'm such a dick, Babe. I don't know why you put up with me."
"OK, then, tell me. Explain what's going on inside you. I need to understand."
Jake paused to collect his thoughts. He wasn't the most in-touch-with-his-feelings guy on the block, but not a Neanderthal, either.
"Well," he began tritely, "OK--here we go...
"Well, first, we are so young, Ethan. Still twenty-three, just out of college, in our first jobs." Ethan remained quiet. He didn't need to respond, Jake's own mind filled in the dialogue for him.
"Yeah, we've been together since high school. We took each other's cherries. That whole college thing. You were my first love, Baby, and you'll be my last, if you'll put up with me."
"We both enjoy other guys," Ethan observed. "You aren't stuck with me all the time."
"I'm not STUCK with you ANY of the time. Don't be down on yourself. No, I like it that we get to sample the buffet, and I like it that we do it together, and then laugh and compare together afterwards. That is so cool. One of the many things I love you for."
"OK, then hit me. Lay it on me. What's eating you?"
Jake paused. He wasn't so sure he could explain it or even name it, this missing element. How could he say that Ethan, his lover, was TOO damn nice? What kind of idiot longs to be roughed up some?
"Ethan...there's something kind of wild in me. I have these fantasies. You'll think I'm insane. I may be."
"Tell me." His dick slipped out of Jake's colon, and he slid off to the side, bent elbow supporting his head.
"I think a lot of being gang-raped." So there, he said it.
"Really? You want to be raped?" Ethan said that way too loud for the back yard in the quiet of the night.
"Shush, Turkey, don't scream it to the whole block. But, yeah, and I love you, but you are not the rapist type."
"Oh, no? I could rape you. Name the time and place." That was still too loud. Ethan was getting a little excited.
"See there? That's not the way it works, Pussycat. You have to MEAN it. You can't schedule your own rape."
Both men began to chuckle at the thought of Ethan the Rapist. Ethan kissed Jake's cheek.
"Gang-raped, huh?"
"Maybe, I don't know, kidnapped. Tied up. Ravished repeatedly. Offered to strangers. Taken out naked on a leash. That sort of thing."
"Shit, you are one sick fuck."
Jake threw his arm over his friend.
"I just knew you'd understand." He kissed Ethan lips.
Ethan was silent for a moment.
"Pissed on? Shit on?"
"No way. Well maybe piss, if I could wash it right off and not have to drink it. No scat."
"Spanked? Demeaned?"
Jake laughed. "Well, now you see just how crazy I am. I want to be forced, and shared. I want to be made a slut bitch. But yet I want to be in control of the whole thing, too. Clear limits, you know? Like, spanking, OK, but beating, no. I'm the total control-freak type of masochist, see.... Give me time, stud-cake. Maybe I'll get over it. I bet if I DID get raped, that would put an end to that little piece of romanticism!"
"I think I get it. We love each other, but we are too much alike in a way. `Cause between the two, I'd also rather be the raped than the rapist. I could go out naked on a leash, too. You reckon they make a double one?"
Jake was impressed, as always, with Ethan's perceptiveness. "See there? If we were going to be in a marriage, Ethan, it could be perfect if it was a three-man deal, with the third guy more dominating."
"And really, really hot, with a big dick, while you're dreaming." Ethan paused, still thinking. "Not mean dominating, though. Loving and considerate dominating." Both laughed at that. Where do you find a guy like that?
"Yeah, strictly role-play, and able to turn it off. That ain't gonna happen, love-muffins. So for now, just give me some time, and try to understand if you can. I love you...Now can I get some sleep?" Jake began to rise out of the steaming water.
"Should I go? Maybe leave the door unlocked in case a gang of rapists want to get in? `Cause frankly, I don't want to be included in any off-the-street gang-raping if you don't mind."
"No, stay. Hell, I may rape you before the night is over. Let's go upstairs and see what happens, OK?"
"And tomorrow, I'll Google "Rent-a-Rapist," and see how much he'll set us back."
So Ethan, ever the pleaser, stayed. In bed, the lovers lip-locked for a bit. Then Jake took his turn spraying his seed into this lover's colon--they never used condoms together, but always did with others, whom they only enjoyed together. They ended, wrapped in one another's arms, in slumber.
None of that explained tonight. Maybe Ethan would call later and they could talk this out. Meantime, Jake stomped along toward home. He was doing exactly what you aren't supposed to do in a big city: walking alone, just before midnight, on dark streets, not the greatest neighborhood, distracted and inattentive to his surroundings. But he was no more than two blocks from his little rented bungalow.
He had come here first, as he was first to find a job. He rented the one-bedroom place in a pretty downtrodden neighborhood. His parents were not pleased, but they weren't paying the rent. Jake wanted some cash left over for things like a car, some travel, some fun in the city.
When Ethan came a few months later, it was awkward. They talked about sharing, but Ethan's work was forty-five minutes away. He'd had no say in the selection of the house. It was very small, pretty tight for two. And Ethan's parents pitched a fit about the neighborhood.
What none of them knew then, being newcomers, was that the neighborhood was already on the upswing, and it was gentrifying fast. Gay men were moving in, and with them came, stereotypically, nice bars and restaurants, upscale boutiques and salons, antique and gift shops, the trendy decorators, artists, and a couple of theatres. By now, purchasing a home in the district would be a very nice investment. Jake's lease was recently up--in fact, his landlord had offered to sell him the place, and was now letting him go month to month while he looked for a possible buyer--so he and Ethan could take a larger place in a compromise neighborhood. But Jake just wasn't ready to do that. They were together all the time anyway, and they fucked like gerbils. It seemed like a lot of unnecessary trouble....
Afterwards, he hardly knew what happened. He felt a cloth-covered hand on his mouth and chin, smelled a sharp, sweet odor. He struggled briefly, but silently, in the grip of strong arms. His assailant was a couple of inches taller than his five feet eleven, and had a powerful body, though Jake was no weakling. He felt himself being folded up, and rolled into a cramped space. A trunk lid slammed, and he felt the vibrations of a moving vehicle, with himself crammed into the trunk. He blacked out.