Tempest in a Teacup Chapter four: Your Show of Shows Evan Andrews 2024
This is a fan fiction.
All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. I've given up trying to figure out where my stories fit into the DC continuity anymore.
The story depicts males in sexual situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
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Garth slept late in the palace; he swam and sunned; and he ate. He ate well. Incredible food appeared in the dining room at sunrise, noon, and sunset. Closely as he watched, though, Garth never saw who brought it or how. Meals only appeared when Garth was not in the room, and occasionally elaborate spreads appeared between one second and the next.
`Genie?' Garth wondered, but he dismissed that. Genies were fairytale stuff.
But Garth was sure that more people occupied the palace than him and whoever it was that brought the meals. Somebody cleaned the place and put things to right. Someone made the food that another person brought to him. And then there was that someone who got him off every night for the next week. Were they separate people, the hero wondered, or was it the same guy working serious overtime. (Garth was sure now that whoever shared the palace with him, he—they?—were male.)
The fifth night, after dinner when the lights dimmed, Garth decided to draw his host out by putting on a show.
Stepping into the courtyard, the Atlantean looked around and addressed the unseen whoever(s).
"I don't know who you are—or where—but this's for you."
The Atlantean had occasionally gone out with his Titan buds to strip clubs where, due to the boys' stunning looks, the bouncers had looked the other way and let them in. Roy had gotten off on the go-go dancers' gyrations and all but masturbated at the table, and even Dick was moved—his erection visible in his tailored trousers. Wally, well, Kid Flash was an enigma to them. He could have jerked off in the middle of them (and probably did) without anyone being the wiser.
Garth, intrigued, simply took mental notes.
Tonight, he put all those notes to use. Using the palm tree trunks as a sort-of stripper pole, Garth slunk around the room. His hands roamed over the long muscular body, drawing attention to one asset or another. Chocolate-rose nipples punctuated his ample pecs. Long throat and pouty lips begged to be kissed. The mop of tousled hair to be mussed. Long lean torso, thick thighs, and calves to be stroked and worshipped. The Atlantean hips gyrated and thrust Garth's now tented package forward provocatively.
"Yeah," Garth said as his hands made a triangle frame around his junk, "Look at this package! You know you want it!"
He rubbed the bulge and said, "Do you want me to show you what's inside?"
And all that despite the fact that at least one of the watchers knew perfectly well from their midnight sessions.
Not having a striper's costume to work, Garth did what he could with the simple pair of trunks he had on (purple today to compliment his eyes).
Dropping the waistband a few inches, Garth teased his audience with how much skin he'd show before pulling the garment back up. Again and again he did this, having the most fun pulling the trunks down to below his ass cheeks and making them flex before covering the treat again. Garth could feel the tension in the room every time he nearly went raw naked, and he felt it increase every time his tease was taken back.
Finally, the trunks slid down and formed a rolled up band riding under his ass cheeks in the back and under his balls in the front. 8 ½ inches of Atlantean manhood jutted proudly in front of him.
"Here's Johnny," Garth laughed as he wagged his erection back and forth.
The hero's stiff meat added a counterpoint to the dance routine, and Garth gave it its head for a while. Presently, though, he could feel the palace silently whine, `Get on with it already!'
Losing the trunks down his legs and kicking them aside (for one of the invisible servants to pick up, no doubt), Garth finally ran a fingertip over the leaky head of his dick and gave a mini massage to the sensitive frenulum in its cleft.
"Fuck, that feels so good!" he moaned.
Descending into the pool, Garth began a slow, languid, but thorough jackoff session. Floating in the warm water, the hero worked the sexually sensitive parts of his body expertly.
"Yeah," he crooned to the invisible watchers, "I really am one hot stud. Body to die for; lips ready for kissing; hot ass that enjoys getting filled (and he slid a finger inside himself to prove the point); and so much princely fuck meat with heavy balls you can play with all night long."
Garth opened his eyes and leered, "But you know that last, don't you?"
The palace held its breath.
"Okay," Garth said at last, "I guess I've tortured you enough."
That said, the Atlantean's hands went into overdrive. The left hand made a cincture around his scrotum, pushing the balls down into the now-tight sack. The right zeroed in on Garth's most sensitive flesh, the corona just beneath his cockhead and its companion frenulum.
"Agh! Agh! Agh!" Garth groaned. "So close! So..."
And with a cry, Garth pulled his hand down to the base of his meat and let the fuck-wand do its thing. Leaping, Garth's cock spat out wad after wad of Atlantean hero sperm. The seed hung in the air for a second before falling to paint Garth's hot body with ropes of his own jizz.
"Ahhhhhhh! Hot load," Garth boasted, and his hand reached up to massage the salty man-cream across his body, making his skin glisten obscenely.
Garth rolled over in the water then, washing away most of the cum, and then stepped out of the water.
On the lip of the pool, he looked around and said, "If you want me, you know where I'll be," before walking provocatively into the nearly dark bedroom.
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That night, Garth and the mystery man (the hero knew now of a certainty that this was no dream) explored each other's bodies. For Garth it was the first time he had gotten any idea of his lover, and he was not displeased with the body he felt. (There was a quality in the darkness tonight that impeded vision.) They exchanged no words, but they found that sighs and moans said everything they needed to convey.
Phantom Lover (as Garth had named him) rolled on top of Garth, and they started rubbing against one another, cock sliding along cock until they reached the critical point and triggered each other's into unloading. (Garth for the second time that night.) Orgasming bodies jerked thrashed as two hot loads painted their abs, gluing them together. Finally Phantom Lover rolled Gareth onto his side and cuddled up against his back.
A simple kiss, that proved not to be so simple, sealed their congress, and Garth slid into a satiated slumber.
`I haven't cum like that in... well, I'm not sure I ever have,' Garth thought.
He hoped he would again.