All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Though this work of fiction may contain sexual situations and/or sexual acts between adults and minors, neither the author condones such situations and/or acts.
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Almost a week had passed since that night, Jake continued to endure the berating condescension of his supervisor at the restaurant, but instead of his usual evenings at the bar, he instead spent the time at his apartment revisiting the events of that night in his mind. Neither Zack nor any of his friends had attempted to contact him to check he was alright, but this was hardly surprising to him. Zack was probably more concerned that Jake would rat him out to try to save his own skin. Friday was like any other lead up to the weekend, Jake had finished for the afternoon, and was glad to have the weekend to himself. Though his thoughts still drifted occasionally back to the nights events, he focused on heading to the gym to work out the tension he felt.
After spending a good 30 minutes on the treadmill, he shut off the machine and stepped down. Looking around the area he spotted Zack and their mutual friend Sammy at the bench-press. Zack noticed Jake by the treadmills and gestured with a partially clenched fist towards his own face, his mouth slightly opened as his left cheek bobbed outward from his face. Jake's temper stirred at the gesture, but he held himself in check; having no wish to start a fight in the middle of the gym. Ignoring the pair Jake picked up his sweat rag and water bottle, moving from the treadmills to the weight rack to work on his arms. After a while, Zack and Sammy came over as he was returning the weights to the rack. Jake paid them no mind, as he pulled the stopper from his bottle to chug the last of his water. Zack finally broke the silence as Jake walked towards the changing rooms, "So... what happened to you Jakey?"
Jake suppressed the urge to pummel Zack, responding flatly, "Nothin'"
Zack's expression matched the surprise and suspicion in his tone as he responded, "Nothin'?! How did you get out of there?"
Jake assumed from the question that Zack had probably left before the cops pulled up, but he did not offer an explanation as he opened the locker to retrieve his gym bag. The question that followed carried poorly veiled anger, "How'd you get away you slimy cunt?"
Exhaling deeply through his nostrils, Jake turned to face Zack as the smaller man continued to speak, "I got outside and could see the flashers down the road, so I ran to the side fence and hid in the shrubs," pausing to draw breath he continued, "when the cops got out and went inside, I hopped the fence and..."
Jake growled as he quickly injected, "You slithered away like the fuckin snake you are Zack!"
Turning to Sammy, who had also been among their small group that night, Jake probed, "What about you Sam, where'd you and the guys end up?"
Sammy would have been content to let the two continue, but having been drawn into the conversation, he filled in the details for Jake, "We hung around for a while after you jimmy'd the lock. A few moved a little further down the street but when we saw the flashers in the distance we got out of there,"
Jake did not find this surprising; guys like them had no business in an upbeat neighbourhood like that. Tossing his shorts into the gym bag, he strode nonchalantly naked towards the showers, Zack followed behind throwing more questions at him. Sammy followed the pair, but did not attempt to participate further in the talk. The showers area was open, Jake stood under the jet of water rinsing the sweat and oily residue from his body.
Zack continued to try to pump Jake for information, "So Jakey, what did happen after I left you love birds alone?"
Jake ignored the question and continued to rinse off his sweaty body. Zack continued to dig, probing for more information but Jake continued to stonewall him. After their shower the three men were dressing at the lockers; Jake closed the clasp of a heavy watch which caught Zack's attention, "That's from the other night Jakey?"
Jake turned to Zack but did not verbally admit the watch was the same he stole from Gambi's place, though Zack knew from the look in his eyes it was the very same. Tiring of Zack's feeble attempts to interrogate Jake, Sammy decided to change the topic, "So Jake you wanna grab a couple of beers with us?". Jake thought about it and agreed, though he decided to drop his gym bag home first.
As the trio reached the street the sun was already setting; the occasional car driving by on its way home from the daily commute. Jake was the only one to notice the unusual vehicle parked a short distance away on the opposite side of the street. The unblemished, black SUV was out of place in this area of the city, the side windows of the vehicle were deeply tinted glass making it impossible to see through. The man behind the wheel was wearing a suit, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, the front passenger wore the same sunglasses but Jake noticed the man was dressed more casually as he lowered the newspaper he was reading. For a moment Jake wondered who the pair were, and why there were in the neighbourhood, but he was brought back to his side of the street by Sammy's question, "So you wanna head over now Jake?".
"I'm gonna head home and dump by shit," indicating the bag slung over his shoulder, "I'll see you at our usual haunt".
Zack and Sam acknowledged the response and the three parted company. Jake made his way through the streets to the nearest bus stop, checking the time by the watch on his wrist. Glancing back down the street he could see movement in the front of the SUV, but he was too far away to tell what the two men were doing.
Trying to ignore the vehicle he pulled a flattened packet of cigarettes from his back pocket and tapped out a stick. After lighting his smoke and taking a few drags he exhaled a thick, billowing cloud of smoke that trailed upwards in the still air as he waited for the bus to come.
The driver turned to speak to man sitting in the back seat of the SUV, "He's the one Mr Santino?"
Gambi adjusted the square in the breast pocket of his tailored suit, "Yes Johnson, he is perfect. He just needs to accept who he really is".
Johnson turned back to face forward and shrugged, he had never understood the perversions of his employer, but his position as one of Mr Santino's men more than compensated for some of the unusual things he had been exposed to over the years.
Gambi watched Jake from afar, his shaved cock leaking pre-cum into the jockstrap he wore beneath the suit pants, he wanted so desperately to feel Jake tearing his way deep to the core of his being, with the same masculine brutality of their first encounter. Here was a man who possessed the raw masculine energy he craved to be around, but he would have to subtly manipulate him to bring the inner pervert to the surface. Many years of searching had brought him into contact with various types of dominant, but they all felt hollow; they were just going through the motions or were concerned about his well-being; Jake was clearly different. The man he craved had seemingly violated him on a whim, and if Gambi had been a truly religious man, he would have sworn that Jake was sent by god to give his empty life meaning.
Lost in his thoughts, Gambi was brought back to reality when the passenger spoke "Better get moving Johnson, he's on the bus!".
"Yea, I see that, keep your panties on Vinnie!".
Following the bus at a discreet distance, taking care to stop just far enough up the road to keep the bus in sight and keep an eye out for Jake getting off. After 8 or 9 stops Johnson was able to pick out Jake on the side-walk through the gym bag he carried, "He's on foot Mr Santino,".
Gambi leaned forward squinting to pick out the form of the man he saw as his Master, "Follow him Johnson, but don't engage with him. You know what to do, find out what I want to know, and report back to me!"
Ducking his head back into the vehicle Johnson confirmed, "You'll be at home Mr Santino?"
With a slow nod Gambi responded, "Yes. Vincent will drive me home after I have made a few stops to take care of some other business".
"Yes sir,"
Vinnie shifted from passenger to driver seat, commenting coyly as he held out the newspaper he had been reading, "You better take this. The suit makes you stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town,"
Johnson smiled, amused at Vinnie's jibe as he took the paper from the man.
Johnson maintained his distance as he followed Jake, though he did not have long to wait before Jake climbed the steps of a rundown apartment building. He was grateful Jake had not turned around whilst being tailed; his attire made Johnson stand out amongst the hobos and addicts populating the streets and adjoining alleys. He surveyed the building Jake had entered; his choices for a vantage point were limited. A bench a short way off from the stairs, or an alley on the opposite side of the street with a few bodies hovering just in the shadows. Neither option was ideal, the bench whilst closer would mean he faced the wrong way, the alley offered an ideal view but he would have to deal with its present occupants. Being no stranger to intimidation, he opted for the latter. Dumping the newspaper in a trash can, he undid the buttons of his jacket and moved his sunglasses to his breast pocket as he approached the alley.
"Spare some bread mac," one of the men moved to block Johnson as he turned into the alley
Johnson maintained a relaxed posture as he stared down the sunken-eyed man in his way, "Beat it!"
The thick jangle of chain links made his ears twitch as the two other men came into view. One carried a folded length of dark iron chain, the other a short length of planking with bent nails sticking out of one edge. The first spoke again, "That ain't too polite, huh guys?".
His companions muttered in agreement as the three advanced on Johnson. Not wishing to waste time, Johnson reached inside his jacket and in one fluid motion drew his pistol. The barrel was already equipped with its silencer; Johnson had learned that it saved time to keep the appendage on his weapon, and had had his shoulder holster modified to allow him to maintain a slick draw despite the added weight and length of the weapon.
The advancing trio halted with their eyes fixed on the weapon, "I said beat it!" Johnson repeated calmly, aiming the pistol at arms length towards the leader. Panicked, the first of his companions dropped his chain and turned to run back down the alley into the growing twilight. The leader and his remaining companion held their ground, but even in the low light Johnson noticed their sickly pallor was sheened from the sweats of withdrawal. To emphasise his threat, Johnson swiftly aimed the barrel low, and fired a shot. The projectile rebounded at the remaining man's feet. He jumped as the bullet bounced and grazed his leg. Dropping his weapon he fell to his side clutching at his shin, the leader turned to look at his companion and this was all the opening Johnson needed. Quicker than a panther he rushed forward and struck the man in his temple with the base of the pistol, rendering him unconscious before his limp body hit the ground. Johnson turned his gaze and noted the last assailant scrambling to pick himself up and limp away. Satisfied, he returned his weapon to the holster under his jacket.
A half hour passed, Johnson waited patiently in the darkening alley, the growing shadows mingling with his black suit jacket and pants; making it easy for him to hide without the need for any other cover. The sun had all but set, the street lights dotting both sides of the roadway were starting to flicker to life as evening fell on the city.
Jake finally emerged from the building wearing faded jeans, a grimy off-white wife-beater, and scuffed heavy work-boots. Johnson noted the half smoked cigar in the edge of his jaw as he watched. The man carried himself with an air of confidence, much like some of the other men he had seen his employer associate with; he began to understand what his boss saw in Jake. A further ten minutes went by after Jake had turned off the street; Johnson wanted to be sure he would not be interrupted should Jake return unexpectedly. Stepping from the shadows into the light cast by the street lamps, Johnson crossed the road to enter the apartment building.
The interior was dimly lit, the chequered tiles of the floor; originally laid black and white, were a mix of browns and black from a lapse in maintenance. An overweight, aged clerk sat behind the front desk listening to the radio; the atmosphere reeked of stale cigarette smoke and filth. Johnson approached and the clerk started at seeing such a well dressed man entering the premises.
Johnson calmly asked the man, "The guy who just left, the one who came in earlier with the gym bag. Which apartment is he living in?".
The clerk retorted in an accent that clearly hailed from Eastern Europe, "Got a badge?".
Johnson smirked at the man's attitude; tilting his head to the side with a questioning look in his eyes, he pulled his jacket open to reveal the holstered pistol he was carrying. The clerk's eyes darted from the weapon to Johnson's face, his posture shifted betraying his alarm, "If its Jake you're after, leave me outta it, 4-D, top floor, end of the hall on the left,"
Letting his jacket fall back in place Johnson's hand reached inside as if reaching for the weapon. The clerk panicked, "Hey mister, what're you doin'?" he stood up sharply, pushing his chair back as he pressed himself against the wall. Johnson's hand emerged holding not a weapon, but another metallic object holding folded bills.
His smile did little to calm the clerk as he unclipped the bills and tossed the cash on the counter, "Easy old timer". Gesturing for the man's silence with the finger of one hand, and reminding him of the pistol with the other, Johnson turned towards the stairwell leading to the floors above.
Jake knocked back his second beer, and finished his cock-and-bull story about how he hid from the police and escaped out of a back window. With no-one absent from their usual group, it was clear the police had not approached any of them, making the story all that much easier to believe. Jake had entered the bar reeking of cigar smoke and had only recently dumped the butt in the table's ashtray. Zack had the nerve to insist Jake should share his spoils with him, as he had been there too, but Jake had shot him down; reminding him he was there as an observer and had bolted once the deed was done. The evening was filled with boring conversation and drinking, though Jake deliberately paced himself so as to avoid a repeat of the last night he was out with the group. He need not have concerned himself; the others too seemed conservative in their consumption. As time passed Jake became increasingly uncomfortable among the group and announced he was going for some air. To his surprise Zack chose to tag along with him as he left the tap room, entering the beer garden at the back of the venue. The exterior was less crowded that the interior; the beer garden was surrounded by a high wall, with only the back exit of the bar leading into it and a fire-safety door in a back corner; barely visible under the creeping vines of some plant which had clearly not been trimmed in some time. The various tables and benches were all but empty save for a few patrons seated close to the back entrance of the bar.
"So Jacob," Zack used his proper name which meant he wanted something, "you were pretty good at getting the door open the other night, you looking for some action?"
"From you Zack? I'd sooner take it up the ass from an AIDS infested monkey,"
"Thought that was your regular Sunday mornings Jakey boy," Zack shot at him with a look in his eyes that made Jake see red. Jake lunged at Zack taking him by surprise. His balled fist landed squarely in Zack's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The sudden outburst startled the few patrons lingering in the beer garden; two rose quickly from their seats and moved briskly back inside.
Zack huffed to catch his breath, clutching at his midriff, he gasped, "What... the... fuck... man?!".
Jake's knee connected with Zack's face, knocking him over, onto his back. Planting his work boot on Zack's chest, Jake glared down at him, "Don't fuck with me Zack! I was lucky the other night, and you're lucky tonight. Cuss me again and I'll make what I did to that guy the other night look like love-making. Get me!"
Jake rested his full weight on his right foot, Zack hissed as he struggled to breathe under the pressure. As Jake took the weight off his foot, Zack tried to lift himself by his hands. Feeling the opposing force against the sole of his boot, Jake re-applied the pressure, "Did I say you could move pussy?"
Taking his last cigar from his back pocket, Jake bit the end and spat the tobacco over Zack. With the cigar held firmly between his teeth he slowly moved his foot to the ground and went down to his knee. "Now be a good boy and light this for me," he held out the lighter to Zack with menacing eyes.
Zack reached up to take hold of the lighter Jake held between his thumb and finger, his hand trembling slightly from the recent rush of pain; Jake's eyes fixed on him as Zack clicked the lighter. The blue flame erupted from the yellow metallic cylinder. Angling the flame at the tip of the cigar, the end of the brown cylinder was rotated until it became a bright, flaring mix of red and orange. With a nod from Jake, Zack released the trigger and the flame vanished, Jake took several short puffs before taking a full toke on the cigar. Snatching the lighter from Zack he exhaled a thick cloud of blue cigar haze directly in Zack's face; causing his eyes to water and making him cough profusely.
Back on both feet, Jake looked down at the man, "Now get inside, bring me another beer, and I'll call it even".
Stepping away, Jake moved over beside one of the bench tables in a corner of the garden; leaning against the wall to enjoy the cigar. He ensured he was facing the entrance, denying Zack an opportunity to jump him; if he was stupid enough to consider retaliation.
Scratching at the crotch of his pants, he felt his slightly stiffened member pressing against the wall of fabric; the violence and power had excited him. Several minutes passed before he saw Zack returning with a beer bottle in hand. As he neared Jake noted the uneasy look on the man's face as he held the bottle out at arms length, seemingly trying to stay as far from Jake as possible. Given what Jake had done to him, he was not altogether surprised by the change in behaviour, but knowing as he did that Zack was the devious-type, he did not snatch the bottle from him. Instead, he removed the cigar from his mouth and blew the stream of smoke towards Zack, "You look like you need that more than I do. Go ahead Zack... have a drink".
Zack's expression flickered with worry; which was all the proof that Jake needed to know he was up to something. "You deaf boy! I said drink!" the last word was accompanied by that same look which promised violence. Zack still hesitated as Jake replaced the cigar in his jaw.
Zack lips twitched as he was about to speak, but Jake was not in the mood the listen to any attempt them man might make to placate him; Jake darted forward catching the bottle in one hand and clamping his other around Zack's throat just below the jaw. Sweeping the man up in a swinging motion, Jake turned carrying Zack like a rag doll as he stepped back the way he had moved, slamming him against the wall.
Applying pressure to the Adam's apple he growled, "Open your mouth, pussy!" jerking his knee in threat of a further beating. Zack choked and whimpered as he opened his mouth, with his other hand wrapped around Zack's hand and the bottle, Jake forced the open neck to the man's open mouth. Jake smelled the stink and the warmth of the liquid as it gurgled out of the opening. Zack was unable to swallow due to Jake's grip on his neck; his coughing caused the fluid to fly from his mouth in small drops and jumps. It was not long before the bottle was empty and Zack reeked of urine, forcing the bottle out of Zack's hand, the glass clinked against the paved ground as it rolled away.
Jets of smoke escaped the corner's of his lips as Jake took hold of Zack's throat with both hands; leaning down so the ash of the cigar was barely an inch from the man's face. Acting on pure alpha instinct, Jake pressed harder until Zack's eyes began to roll back, and his tongue stuck out as he choked on spittle and the left over piss; with little care Jake touched the ash lump against the pink mass of Zack's slightly swollen tongue.
The sudden contact of the hot ash jerked Zack to lucidity, and what little air was still in the man's lungs was expelled in a muffled whimper of pain; a plea for mercy from the giant. As the ash broke off, Jake slid one hand up forcing Zack's tongue back into his mouth and covering it. Releasing Zack's throat, Jake brought his other hand to pinch of the man's nose. Smoke continue to drift downwards from his his lips he growled around the cigar, "Swallow it you little bitch!"
Zack squirmed and writhed, trapped between the wall and Jake's immense bulk; desperate for air and to be relieved of the horrible sensation in his mouth. Jake did not release him until he saw Zack's Adam's apple ripple multiple times, when he was sure he had been obeyed, he released his grip on Zack's nose take take the cigar from his jaw.
The sound of Zack's deep inhale was like a pig in heat, Jake felt his cock fully erect and ready to burst out of his jeans, but he knew this was not the place to rape the man in his grasp. Instead he pulled on his cigar exhaling the stream slowly towards Zack's nose; forcing him to breathe in the smoke.
Zack whimpered like a small child as the smoke stung his nostrils, coughing and spluttering into Jake's hand still holding his mouth. Jake felt the wet of slimy spit in his palm and this irked him. Taking his soiled hand away, and using his free hand, he levered Zack from the wall, spun him around and forced him face first back to the wall. Pressing his body against Zack's he made sure Zack could feel his hard prick pressing through their clothes, "Now you be a good girl and don't fuckin move until I leave,"
Zack seemed to have mustered some of his courage to retort, "Fuck you!"
Jake slapped the back of Zack's head forcing it to collide with the wall again, "Watch your mouth bitch! Do you need stronger rinse!", Jake ground the head of his cock against Zack's left buttock to emphasise the threat.
Zack bit his lip holding back tears of rage and to stop himself from further angering Jake, he shivered with fear at what Jake may do next. Jake kept his clean hand on the back of Zack's neck, squeezing to deter him from retaliation, as he trailed the fingers of his other hand down the man's back seductively. When he reached the waist, he prised his first few fingers past the tight waistband causing Zack to jump in alarm.
"Don't you move pretty boy!" Jake applied extra pressure to Zack's neck, keeping him pinned against the wall with the weight of his body.
Jake took hold of the edge of Zack's underwear and gave a savage tug to pull it up and out. The sound of ruptured stitching and the hiss of Zack's breath filled the air as Jake freed enough of the fabric for his purpose. "Move, and I hurt you worse!", Zack's head bobbed slightly in acquiescence as Jake released his grip on the man's neck and proceeded to use the exposed, sweat dampened fabric like a wash cloth; cleaning the slimy ash-infused spit from his stained hand.
When he was finished he removed his cigar and leaned in close to Zack's face, by now his cheeks were moist with the tears he had been unable to prevent from escaping. "Don't fuck with me again boy. Understand?!".
Zack did not speak, screwing his eyelids closed, to protect his already stinging eyes, from the cigar smoke that was escaping from Jake's mouth; merely nodding his head with whimpered gasps of breath, which Jake found immensely satisfying. "Good girl. Now, stay. Daddy's gonna head home".
Jake gave Zack one more slap to the back of the head as he stepped away, keeping his eyes fixed on the man until he had all but reached the doorway. Jake turned to enter the bar; those that had been observing parted like scattering roaches as he moved towards them. No-one seemed to call him out on what had happened, if they did he did not hear them over the music of the jukebox. Grinning round his cigar, and still horny from the altercation, Jake crossed the taproom and left without saying goodbye to the others at the booth who were still oblivious to the events in the beer garden. Stepping out onto the side-walk he adjusted the stiff appendage in his jeans; he knew he would need to beat off when he got back to his apartment.