Happy Birthday, Jordan

Of the people I’ve written short stories for, Jordan is the one I’ve known the least amount of time.  That being said, he’s been an incredibly inspiring person.  He’s passionate about equality and rights for the LBGT community and isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

I spoke with Les, one of his very close friends, and she helped me brainstorm some ideas for this story.  I googled a few things and found some inspiration pictures to use.  Two  men holding hands, a Ferris wheel, and a compass rose tattoo.

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The story wasn’t quite what I originally planned, but your outspokenness wove its way into the plot.  It took on a life of its own, like they do sometimes, but I sincerely hope you enjoy it, Jordan.

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Finding North

Danny wrapped his fingers around Ben’s narrow hips, pulling his boyfriend a little closer.  He rested his chin on Ben’s shoulder and sighed, impatient already.  He hated waiting in line, but Ben really wanted to go on the Ferris wheel and he couldn’t deny Ben anything when he pouted like that.

“I can feel you fidgeting,” Ben muttered.

Danny let out a huff of laughter. “Yeah.  You know me.”

“I do, baby.  You have the attention span of a squirrel on speed.”

“Asshole,” Danny countered.

Ben turned his head, his shaggy blond hair brushing Danny’s cheek.  “Your asshole.”

Danny snorted. “I feel like there’s a bad pun in there somewhere.”

“There always is.”

Just because he knew it drove Ben nuts, he leaned forward and licked his ear.  Ben shrieked and swatted at Danny, but he was laughing as he bent his head to the side and wiped his ear off on the soft flannel of his shirt.  “Gross,” he muttered.

Danny chuckled.  “C’mere, baby.”

Ben narrowed his blue eyes at Danny and shook his head, his lower lip sticking out in a bit of a pout.  “You’re kidding me.  You lick my ear and then you want to cuddle?”

Danny caught sight of a couple standing off to their right who were laughing at their antics, grateful that everyone around them seemed amused rather than disapproving.  Sometimes,  Danny forgot that the whole world wasn’t like their friends and his own parents. They’d had a few unpleasant reminders of that fact, but it seemed like tonight at least, they’d have some peace.   He grabbed Ben’s hand and tugged his boyfriend back against him.  “Come here. I promise I won’t lick your ear again.”

Ben huffed but wound his arms around Danny’s neck anyway, leaning in to speak in his ear. “I can think of somewhere better for you to lick.”  He ended that dirty little suggestion with a sharp stinging bite to the ear that made Danny shudder.

“Tease,” he grumbled.

Ben responded with a raised eyebrow and a cock of the chin that never failed to make Danny laugh.  Ben liked to tease, and when he was feeling especially good, he tended to adopt a playful, campy attitude.  He’d been a lot more reserved when they first met, the pain from his past dulling the real Ben.

Danny’s coming out had been easy enough.  His parents were initially surprised and slightly bewildered, but they were supportive.  His father had bought out the entire self-help section of Barnes and Noble aimed at heterosexual parents who wanted to support LGBT children, and his mother promptly joined PFLAG.  Although their support was often downright embarrassing—he could have lived his whole life never discussing rimming with either of his parents—he was grateful.  Ben hadn’t been so lucky when his parents found out he was gay.  They had been emotionally abusive to begin with and had broken his nose, arm, and leg when he came out to them.  The best thing they’d done for him was kick him out of the house.  He’d ended up moving across the country to stay with an older cousin who just happened to live in the same town as Danny.  They’d met shortly after that, and they had been inseparable since.

Now both twenty-three, they were living together in a little apartment.  Danny worked at a local radio station while he went to school for broadcasting, and Ben worked as a cook at a diner while he worked on his GED.  Their life together was certainly nothing like he’d imagined when they were both seventeen, nervous and awkward, fumbling in the backseat of Danny’s beat-up car.   They were just horny teenagers discovering sex together.  They never dreamed love was what they’d find.

The line moved forward again, and Ben and Danny found themselves at the front.  Fingers hooked together, they stood there in silence, mesmerized by the bright lights as they spun round and round.  Danny glanced over at Ben and frowned at the melancholy expression on his face.  “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

“Just reminded me of something from when I was little.”  A shadow crossed his face.  “Mom took me to the fair.”

Danny swallowed, his heart aching for the man beside him.  Ben might have moved forward, but there was always a small part of him that hadn’t quite healed from his parents’ horrible reaction to his coming out.  As far as Danny was concerned, they were monsters, but the pain lingered for Ben.

“One of the few good memories I have,” Ben said quietly.

Danny nodded.  “Well, let’s add some more tonight.  What else do you want to do after the Ferris wheel?”

Ben’s face brightened as he begged for a corn dog, a ride on one of the rides guaranteed to make Danny nauseous, and for Danny to win him a stuffed animal at one of the carnival games.  Danny groaned, he hated all three of those things, but the brilliant smile on Ben’s face was impossible to resist.  Ben lit up when he was happy, his eager enthusiasm pulling everyone along in his wake behind him. “Sure, baby,” Danny promised.

When their turn came, they settled into the gently swaying seats of the Ferris wheel, Danny’s arm closing around Ben’s shoulders as he snuggled close.

The wind ruffled Danny’s hair as the Ferris wheel rose.  The heat of the day had dissipated, and the cooler breeze felt nice.  When the wheel reached the top he could see out over the whole fair.  Lights glittered in the darkening night, the sunset a deep, red-purple, the edges bleeding into black.  He turned to look at Ben who was giving him the smile that always made Danny weak in the knees. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Danny leaned in, brushing his lips against Ben’s.  “Waiting in line so you could ride the Ferris wheel?”

“Yeah, that, but for the rest of it.  Being there for me when things got so hard.”  Ben rested his head on Danny’s shoulder, and Danny tightened his arm around his boyfriend.

Things had been hard for Ben.  He’d struggled with depression for years; some days it was so bad he could barely get out of bed.  Danny had stuck by him through it.  He wasn’t going to lie, it was hard.  There had been days he’d thought about walking away, but he couldn’t imagine his life without Ben.  Living without his sweet smile, without the familiar scent of the skin in the crook of his neck, without the sigh he always let out when Danny pushed inside him, was unimaginable.

His life might be easier without Ben in it, but it certainly wouldn’t be better.  Ben had been there for him as well.  When Nancy, Ben’s mother, had been in a car accident and Danny had been terrified he’d lose her, Ben had been there to support Danny and his father, Jack. Hell, Jack had cried on Ben’s shoulder, terrified he was going to lose his wife of twenty-seven years.  Ben had been there through her slow, painful rehabilitation and that following year had cemented their relationship.  Whatever rough times they’d had, they were both in it for the long haul now.

“I fucking love you, Benji,” Danny said hoarsely, pulling him closer and kissing the top of his head.

“You know I hate that nickname,” Ben muttered, but he snuggled closer to Danny anyway.

“Yeah, I know.”  Danny grabbed Ben’s chin and turned his head, capturing his lips in a kiss.  Ben still tasted like the elephant ear he’d devoured earlier, like cinnamon and sugar.  He pressed his forehead against Ben’s for a moment.  As much as he rolled his eyes at Ben’s child-like excitement about the fair, it was fun to see it through his eyes.  Danny never regretted indulging Ben’s whims.  And he couldn’t lie, kissing on top of a Ferris wheel was pretty damn romantic.  Up in the air it was quiet, far from the din of rides and games, the excited shrieks of children, and the chatter of the adults.  It felt private, like their own little glimpse of heaven.  He shivered and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cool breeze or the moment.

When the Ferris wheel stopped and they stepped out of the car, Ben pulled Danny along the midway.  Danny managed to convince Ben to go on the stomach-churning ride before they ate corn dogs, and gulped down a frozen Coke after, hoping the icy drink would keep him from yakking all over his boyfriend’s shoes.  They spent a while wandering through the animal barns, Ben cooing at every furry creature there.  Danny groaned, half-terrified they’d somehow end up with even more pets than they already had; two dogs and three cats was plenty, but Ben was a softy for injured and abandoned animals.  At least the ones at the fair were well-treated, so Ben didn’t have that as an excuse.

Eventually, they wound up at one of the ring toss booths.  Danny spent an obscene amount of money, but he finally managed to win Ben an obnoxiously large stuffed gorilla.

“Oh my God,” Ben gushed.  “I can’t believe you won this for me.  I am going to sleep with it every night.”  Danny laughed quietly and shook his head, knowing that Ben would end up shoving it off the bed every night like he did with his pillows.  Instead he’d clutch Danny in his sleep, narrow arms wrapped around him like he was terrified the other man would disappear in his sleep.  As much as Danny hated that Ben needed that kind of reassurance still, he loved that he could be there for him.  He’d grown used to the tight grip of Ben’s arms, the feel of his cheek pressed to Danny’s shoulder, and his breath warm against his neck.

Danny was just about to ask Ben if there was anything else he wanted to do before they went home when a loud voice shattered their peaceful night.  “Isn’t that sweet?  You won a big stuffed animal for your bitch.  Oh, wait, I’m sorry, is that your girlfriend?  I wouldn’t want to be politically incorrect.”

Danny gritted his teeth together, wrapped a protective arm around Ben, and turned to face the asshole who’d spoken.  There was a small crowd of people around, and the man who spoke appeared innocuous enough, he wasn’t the redneck in the John Deere cap, or the one who looked like he hadn’t bothered to bathe after mucking out a barn.  Just your average, ordinary asshole.

“I won this for my boyfriend, yeah.  And you owe him an apology,” Danny snarled.

The man was clearly trying to bait Danny.  Ben might carry himself a little more delicately, and he certainly had a slighter build than Danny did.  Sure, Danny’s square features, dark hair and eyes, and heavy stubble made him look older and tougher than Ben, but they were dressed similarly in jeans and flannels.  Nothing about Ben looked feminine.   No, the man just wanted to get a reaction from Danny, and damn it, he was having a hard time not giving the asshole one.

He heard a low growl from Ben, who shoved the gorilla at Danny and squared off with the guy, arms crossed over his chest.  Ben might be skinny, but he was a lot tougher than he looked.  “So, you think that because we’re a gay couple, one of us must be the bitch, right?  And clearly, you’ve decided that’s me.”

The man scoffed.  “Come on, like it isn’t obvious which one of you takes it up the ass?  Everyone knows you’re the woman.”

Ben arched a brow at him.  “First of all, I’d like to know what right you think you have to ever ask someone a question like that.  Do you see me inquiring about your sex life?  I don’t think so.  Besides, I’ve had my cock in his ass just as often.  I may not be your idea of what a man is, but trust me, he knows I’m all man.”

“I’m just saying it’s unnatural,” the man spat back.  “You should be praying to God you’ll see the truth before He punishes you.”

Ben’s face went white and his hands clenched into fists at his side.  “Do you know who the last person was who said something like that to me?”

Danny’s stomach lurched, knowing he was referring to his asshole of a father.  He clenched his jaw; it was a struggle not stepping in, but he held back, knowing Ben could handle himself and that he needed to let him fight his own battles.  He’d be there waiting though, if Ben needed him after.

The man sneered at him and Ben continued.  “It was my father.  Before he split my lip, broke my nose, and pushed me down the stairs. Before he made me crawl out the door with a broken leg and arm, making me swear I’d never come back.  He’s the one who deserves to be punished, not me.”

Ben yanked at the cuff of his flannel, ripping off the button in the process as he pulled it up his forearm and turned his hand so his palm was up.  Danny knew the man could clearly see the shiny white patch of scars covering his arm where surgeons had placed the pin to repair the break.  He cocked his head when he saw the white gauze covering Ben’s forearm.  That was new though.

“You think God is going to punish me for loving someone?” Ben continued.  “Just because he’s a man?  That man over there has loved me more than anyone else in my life ever has.  He’s stood by me through the kind of hell you can’t even imagine.”

Ben ripped away the taped-on gauze, not even flinching as it pulled at his skin and hair before coming away.  Danny stepped forward, gazing at the tattoo underneath.  It was red, clearly new, and Danny couldn’t believe Ben had kept it a secret from him.  Danny’s eyes traced the mark, the sight of the compass rose made his heart feel so full.  “Your north,” he whispered.  It was something Ben had called him for years.

Ben glanced over at Danny and nodded once before he met the man’s gaze, unflinching.  “He’s pulled me out of hell and back.  He’s the love of my life and the man I plan to spend the rest of my life with.  He’s my north; without him, I’d be lost.”  He leaned in, his voice dropping.  “I suggest that the next time you feel the need to make bigoted comments about a gay couple, you think twice.  I’d happily be called his bitch any day of the week if it meant being with him, but you’re wrong.  We’re partners, equals.  You’re a bigoted asshole; I can’t change that, but don’t you dare tell me that my relationship isn’t every bit as important to me as yours is to you.  If I could marry this man today, I would, but people like you have stopped that from happening.”

Ben’s voice cracked.  “People like you are why so many gay kids are homeless, why I’ve lost friends to depression, drugs, and suicide; you’re why people have to hide who they are.  I hope you feel good about yourself.  All I wanted to do tonight was have a nice night with the person I love, is that too much to ask?”

He glanced around the crowd defiantly, and Danny stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Ben’s waist.  The man had the courtesy to look ashamed, and he slunk away without another word.  The crowd that had gathered around them was silent for a long moment, and then someone began to clap.  It was hesitant at first, a lone pair of hands applauding, but then it grew, the crowd joining in.

Ben turned his head into Danny’s neck.  He wasn’t embarrassed, but he wasn’t really used to that kind of attention either.  The applause died down after a few moments, but people stepped forward, quietly thanking Ben, or telling him how much his speech had affected them.  Danny felt a surge of pride for the quiet, timid boy he’d met six years prior who was now strong enough to stand up for what he believed in, to face down the bullies and haters, to proudly proclaim his love for Danny in front of a crowd of people.

Eventually, they escaped the crowd, hurrying toward their car, needing to be alone.  Ben was silent on the drive home, but he didn’t seem upset, mostly quiet and contemplative.  Danny threaded their fingers together and lifted their joined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of Ben’s hand.

Back at their apartment, Danny made love to Ben.  Stretched naked on the bed, Danny let his lips trail from Ben’s mouth and down over his collarbone.  Ben laughed, squirming as Danny licked his skin, and chuckled to himself; Ben was very ticklish.  Ben’s laughter turned into moans when Danny reached his very sensitive nipples and the moans grew loud when Danny’s mouth wrapped around his cock.  It was slow and teasing at first, and Ben continued to squirm under his touch.  Danny prepped Ben just as slowly, opening him up just as gently as he had the first time.  He brushed his cheek against Ben’s thigh, feeling the soft tickle of the hair there.  Danny sucked him more deeply when Ben’s fingers buried in Danny’s thick hair.

“Stop, stop,” Ben begged after a while.  He was panting and sweat coated his chest, his hair damp against his forehead.

Danny released Ben’s cock with a quiet, wet pop and walked his way up Ben’s body on his hands and knees.  Kneeling astride Ben’s thigh he slicked his cock and then leaned down for a kiss.  Ben’s lips and tongue kissed him back greedily, his hands grasping at Danny.

Danny smiled against Ben’s lip when Ben let out a familiar sigh as he pushed inside him.  “Love that sound you make,” he murmured, pushing all the way inside.  Ben grasped Danny’s body, pulling him even more tightly to him.  Danny felt the other man’s heels dig into the back of his thighs, and he gasped when he began to move.  He dropped his head, his temple pressing against Ben’s.  Danny could feel Ben’s breath against his cheek and the damp slide of their skin together.

Unable to hold out any longer, Danny urged Ben to come.  After a few deep, hard thrusts, Ben threw his head back, his shoulders and neck tensing with the pleasure.  Danny dropped to his elbows, burying his head against Ben’s neck, his entire body going rigid with pleasure as he came inside his lover.

The strength left his body, and he collapsed onto Ben.  Tangled together in a sweaty, messy heap of limbs on the soft blue sheets, they held each other tightly.

Danny gently traced the unmarked skin just under Ben’s fresh tattoo.  “I can’t believe you got this,” he said reverently.

“That wasn’t how I planned to show it to you.  I was going to do it tonight after we got home.  When we were alone.”  Ben frowned, clearly disappointed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Danny reassured him.  “I just can’t believe you got it.  What made you decide to do that?”

Ben shrugged.  “I wanted you inked onto me.  I realized I have all of these tattoos with meaning on me, but none that are specifically for you.”

Danny nodded.  Ben had amassed an impressive collection of ink in the last few years and he was honored that Ben would carry that mark around with him for the rest of his life.  “Why today?”

Ben blushed and it made Danny smile; he didn’t do it often.  “It’s dumb.”

“C’mon, tell me,” Danny coaxed.

“It’s the anniversary of the first time you kissed me.”

Danny shifted on the bed, pulling Ben closer.  “Oh, baby, I can’t believe you remembered the date.”  He laughed softly.  “I sure as hell didn’t.”

Ben shrugged.  “It was a big deal to me.  You were the first person who saw me.  Not the scars, not the fucked up kid I was, but the real me.  You kissed me, and I knew I’d found where I was supposed to go.  Who I was supposed to be.”

Danny blinked back tears.  It wasn’t the first time he’d cried in front of his boyfriend and it wouldn’t be the last.  “I’m so fucking proud of you for tonight.”

Ben shrugged.  “I was just doing what was right.  He probably won’t learn anything from it, but you heard some of the other people there, I changed some of their minds, made them see things differently.  It was worth it for that.”

“You’re amazing,” Danny insisted.

Ben flushed and turned over, brushing Danny’s hair out of his eyes.  “I think I want to get involved at the shelter, or with a group for gay teenagers or something.  I feel like I need to be a part of it.”

“Okay,” Danny agreed.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.  It’s important to you,” he said simply.  “Maybe I’ll come, too.”

“You’ve never been the joining type.”

Danny shrugged.  “Maybe not, but this is important.  Speaking up, getting involved, it’s the only way things are going to change.  We’re lucky, we have each other, but not everyone has that.  I don’t like the thought of what would have happened if it wasn’t for your cousin, if we’d never found each other.  I have nightmares about it sometimes, thinking of you alone on the streets.”

Ben squeezed him tighter.  “I know.”  He kissed Danny slowly and sweetly before sighing and touching his forehead to Danny’s.  “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”  Danny’s voice grew husky, wondering if he should get a matching compass tattoo.  “You know, you’re my north, too.  I’d be just as lost without you.”

 

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Nerves

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In what ranks up there as one of the more terrifying moments of my life, I sent my first piece of original fiction off to a publisher today.  Somehow, that’s even more surreal to see typed out and as I keep telling my poor friend—who is no doubt very tired of hearing me say this—I feel like I might throw up. 

It’s a short story for an anthology that the publishing company is putting together and the moment I saw the theme, I knew this was the perfect story to submit for it.   It’s a strong story, I had a number of wonderful people proof it for grammar and content, and it’s something I feel very proud of.

I’ve been writing for a little over four years now.  I’ve done well in several contests, gotten great feedback from people whose opinion I value highly, and yet, pushing send on that email and taking the first big step into the publishing world is utterly terrifying. 

The other side of that is how amazing it feels to have sent it.  Taking that first huge step is something I never thought I’d do.  For so many years I struggled to write, to get more than a dozen pages out, but something happened four years ago and it finally clicked for me.  I’ve spent that time since then writing almost every single day.  Not always a lot, or anything that I’d want to publish, but I’ve done it anyway. 

I am not always the kind of person who goes after what I want.  Unless it’s something that really matters, deep down, I tend to hang back and wait for things to come to me.  So taking this step is huge.  I remember the feeling I had when I met my husband.  All I could think was “I like him so much, but I’m not ready for this.”  It was an exhilarating mix of terror and excitement. 

Nine years after we met, and three years—in October—after we got married, I know that taking a chance on a relationship with him was the best decision I ever made.   This feels exactly the same way.

So, terrifying or not, I’m really glad I took this step.  Now all I can do is cross my fingers, hope, and wait until I hear back.  Oh, and try not to throw up in the meantime. 

Happy Birthday, Viv!

Another one of my very favorite people has a birthday. Today is my online wife’s birthday, and this one I’ve been planning for a while.  I’ve had a plot idea brewing in my head for a long time now, and the moment I decided to do write something for Viv, I knew I had to go with it. 

So, with the help of Karen, and my ever-fabulous editor, Sally, I give you, “Dirty, Anonymous.” Here’s some kink for you, hope you enjoy it, wife! *smooches*

 

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Dirty, Anonymous

If you looked out your window and saw a man masturbating, what would you do?  Would you look away and close the curtains?  Or would you stay and watch?

My decision to stay and watch changed everything.  Five weeks later, I couldn’t look out the window without getting hard.  I couldn’t hear my phone vibrate without getting hard.  I couldn’t think of his rough, husky voice without getting hard.

~

 

The first time I saw him I was on my way home from a gig, flushed and amped up from playing.  I lived in a loft apartment, a converted warehouse in a neighborhood just this side of sketchy.  I usually went out with the guys in the band immediately after a gig, but I’d left my wallet at home in my rush to get out the door. 

I didn’t even bother to flip on the lights in my place when I entered, knowing exactly where I’d left it.  The yellow glow of the light pollution from the city streamed through the dirty windows, allowing me to navigate through my spartan apartment to the bed against the far wall.  I grabbed the jeans I’d dumped on the floor next to the bed and dug through them, finding my wallet just where I’d left it.  I shoved it into my pocket, tossed my guitar case on the bed, and made my way back toward the door. 

Something caught my attention—movement, or a change in light, I wasn’t really sure which—and I peered out my window at the apartment facing mine.  The U-shape of the building allowed me to see into other apartments.  The piss-poor job the previous tenants had done hanging blinds to cover the massive windows usually meant that I was too lazy to bother to put them down, not giving a fuck if my neighbors saw me or not.   Usually, I didn’t give a fuck about looking at them, either.  The apartment across from mine was lit up, and a gap in the curtains showed the naked body of a man.

I stopped in my tracks, mouth going dry at the sight of him.  It wasn’t his hand on his cock or even his naked chest I saw first.  It was his throat—head thrown back, muscles straining, jaw clenching tightly—that I noticed.  Of course, it wasn’t hard to guess what was happening, so my eyes quickly dropped to his cock, watching as his hand flew over it, his fist moving in rough, choppy strokes.  Just a few moments later, he came, and I watched as his body jerked and shuddered.

My hand drifted down, gripping my own cock through the rough fabric of my jeans and squeezing.  I was always worked up after a show—performing made me horny—and watching the brief display my neighbor put on had me aching.  I unzipped my jeans, pulling my dick out, suddenly really fucking grateful that I’d been too lazy to do laundry and was going commando tonight.  My dick was in my hand, heavy and leaking already, and a quick lick of my palm slicked it enough.  The rough friction made me moan as I jerked my cock, imagining the man across the courtyard.  I came fast and hard, come dripping from my fingers as I staggered back toward the couch.  By the time I caught my breath—a little shocked by the force of my orgasm—the man was gone and the lights were out.

Disappointed, I went to clean up and then collapsed onto my bed.  Earlier, I’d had every intention of going to the bar and picking up the first person—male or female—who was interested in me.  That was my usual M.O., but sated by the quick and dirty orgasm, it felt like too damn much effort.  Instead, I texted my bandmates that I wasn’t going to be there, stripped out of my clothes, and passed out.

For the next few weeks, I watched for the man in the apartment across from mine, but I didn’t see him again.  Late, late one night, after a gig and a really unsatisfying fuck with a groupie, I staggered home drunk.  I stripped out of my clothing, turned on the lamp beside the couch, and thought about the man in the apartment across from me. 

I had no idea if he—or anyone else for that matter—was watching, but I put on a show anyway.  Sure, I ran the risk of someone seeing my display and calling the cops on me, but wasn’t that half the fun?  I’d spent a few nights in jail before for barroom brawls and a drunk and disorderly charge, and I liked the thought of someone watching me.  

I was a twenty-four year old guitar player in a pretty decent punk band and had never had a single bit of trouble finding someone to fuck.  Sex was starting to bore me though.  I was bisexual and pretty much open to trying anything.  Male, female, I didn’t care, and the kinkier the better.  My band had gone on tour the previous summer, opening for a better-known band, and the number of groupies we’d pulled in was unreal.  There was little room on the tour bus for modesty, and I’d grown rather used to fucking with an audience.  The problem was, I’d done just about everything except for some really hardcore kink, and there wasn’t a hell of a lot that got my heart racing.

I’d done anyone and everything, and although I was careful enough to be sure that I didn’t pick up anything nasty, I knew I was getting riskier and riskier.  Sure, I drank, smoked, and dabbled in a few drugs if I got bored enough, but it was sex I really wanted the thrill from.

I craved it.    

Standing stark naked, my body on display for anyone to see, sent a sharp jolt of arousal through me that had been missing for a while now.  I closed my eyes, ran my hands across my body, and grabbed my cock, roughly gripping it for a moment as I rolled my balls in my palm. 

Although I was hoping someone was watching, I didn’t spend a lot of time on teasing myself.  This time I did have actual lube, and after slicking my palm and then my cock, I began.  Jerking off itself was boring as shit, but the thought of someone watching me like I’d watched the guy across the courtyard made it so much better.  I came with a hoarse grunt, my eyes glued on the dark apartment across from mine.  Still naked, with come covering my stomach and hand, I stepped closer to my window, peering out, hoping to see him again.

I repeated the show several times over the next weeks and finally, one night, I saw the light in his apartment click on as I finished.  Still panting, I staggered to the window and stared at him.  He was standing by his own window, wearing a snug pair of leather pants and nothing else.  He looked taller than me, and although narrow-hipped he had broad shoulders, and something about the way he stood made him seem imposing.  He was older than I was, maybe in his early thirties, and in fantastic shape.  I licked my lips at the sight of the tattoos that covered his right arm, and the one over his left pec.  His hair was short, shorn on both sides and left longish on top in a casual, messy Mohawk.  Angular, sculpted features contrasted with the stubble on his jaw, and his gaze was so intense that it pinned me in place, made me freeze as his eyes locked on mine.

He waited a moment and then lifted his hand, pressing a sheet of white paper with clear, black lettering against the window.  It read, I want your number.

I didn’t hesitate, didn’t think twice about it; my heart racing, I dug through my desk, finally finding a Sharpie in the scattered mess of papers and swiping my phone from the table, too.  My nerves faded a little as I focused on writing my number legibly.  I could hear the squeak of the marker against the glass and the pungent smell of it as I struggled to write it backwards and large enough for him to see clearly.

Even though I was expecting it, I still jumped when my phone buzzed in my hand.  I cleared my throat three times before I accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear. 

He spoke first, his voice calm and relaxed, firm and sure.  “Hello.”

“Hey.” My own voice was raspy, a little choked sounding.

He chuckled, but rather than setting me on edge, it relaxed me, sent a warm jolt of arousal through me.  “I enjoyed your show.” I closed my eyes for a moment, almost forgetting that he could see me.  “Did you enjoy mine a few weeks ago?”

“Yes.  Fuck, that was hot,” I confessed.  I opened my eyes and stepped closer to the window again.  I could see his wolfish smile, despite the distance between our apartments. 

“I want you to jerk off for me again.  Will you do that for me?”

My mouth went dry.  Jesus, there was something about his voice, so sure, so commanding.  I didn’t hesitate.  “Yes.”

His voice grew lower, deeper.  “Will you do everything I tell you to?”

I groaned, my hand automatically going to my cock to palm it.  “Yes.”

And so it began.  He called me almost nightly, and I found myself going out less and less after gigs, wanting to be ready for his call.  When the light by the window came on, it was a signal that I was available and he only kept me waiting a few times.  When he did, I was always so worked up I came even harder, and I’d catch a smirk on his lips as if he enjoyed teasing me immensely. 

He had me buying sex toys and using them while he watched.  He dragged every fantasy out of me that I’d ever had, and then found a few more: bondage, being spanked, and a particularly dirty, secret desire I had about a man grabbing me, blindfolding me, and having his way with me, without me ever seeing him.  All of my secrets spilled out, and I kept hoping he’d tell me he wanted to meet, fulfill those fantasies for me in person, but he never did.  He just teased me on the phone.  I wasn’t even fucking groupies anymore—or anyone else for that matter—I was way too damn wrapped up in him.  I didn’t even know his name, he didn’t know mine, but he owned me. 

Almost five weeks to the day this had started, I warned him I was going to be late getting home the next night.  We had a gig a couple of hours away, and it would probably be closer to early morning before I made it back.  He nodded and shrugged.  “I’m not going to be around anyway.  I have plans.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask.  By now, I knew better than to ask, any time I asked any sort of personal question, he brushed it off and ignored me.  The hot, tattooed man who lived across from me was a mystery, but a part of me had to admit that I liked that.  That was what made this so dirty, so hot.  It was why I wasn’t feeling jaded and bored anymore. It was the reason I belonged to him.

After the show the next night, I helped the band pack up their gear. Most of the guys were going to stay and pick up whatever tail they could get their hands on, but I’d volunteered to help our bassist drive the van with our gear back home.  He was married and wasn’t interested in screwing around. I was just too busy thinking about the man who owned me.

Although he’d told me he wasn’t going to be around that night, I couldn’t help but hope I’d see him.  Even a glimpse of him. 

“You’re restless tonight,” the bassist commented to me about halfway through the ride home. 

Pulled out of my thoughts, I stared at him blankly for a moment.  “Huh?”

“You seem restless.  Actually, you’ve been weird in general, dude, and I can’t think of the last time you picked up someone.”

I nodded, unsurprised that he’d noticed.  “Yeah.”

“You dating someone or something?”

I snorted.  “Dating?  No, not even close.”

“But there is someone?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, playing with the rings on my fingers.  The black nail polish I’d put on for the show was nearly picked off by the time I got dropped off at home, and I was distracted and edgy as I grabbed my guitar and headed into my building.

Maybe it was that distraction that had me not paying attention to my surroundings as I dug in my pants for the keys to my apartment, maybe it was disappointment knowing that my neighbor wouldn’t be standing in his window waiting for me.  Whatever it was, I never saw the man coming.  One minute I’d fished the keys out, and the next I was slammed flat up against my door with a muffled gasp.  The keys were out of my hand and both arms were bent behind me and held in a firm grip before I even knew what was going on. 

My heart hammered in my chest, terror making me struggle against the tight hold.  A voice spoke low in my ear.  “I told you I had plans tonight.  Now, are you going to be a good boy and behave for me?”

I went still immediately, the husky, commanding voice that I’d been hearing on the phone more familiar to me than any other in the world.  I couldn’t have told you what my mother’s voice sounded like, but his I knew.  I closed my eyes, panting harshly as I rested my forehead against the door.  I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t force the words out, all I could do was nod. 

“Good.  Stay still.” With quick, deft movements, he had a soft piece of fabric wrapped around my eyes and had unlocked my apartment door before I even knew what was happening.  He nudged me forward, and I walked blindly, his hand on my crossed forearms the only thing guiding me.  The blindfold was so effective that although I heard the light turn on, I couldn’t see a thing.  The door closed behind me with a muted thud.

The good thing about a loft was that even from the doorway you could see every part of the apartment, and when he steered me to the left, my heart rate picked up, knowing he was taking me toward the bed.  My toes hit the bottom of the mattress sooner than I expected, and I would have pitched forward if not for his tight grip on me. 

“Now,” he spoke softly,  “I’m giving you a chance.  If you want out of this, tell me.  One word and I’ll leave.  Or, I can stay, and make one of those kinky fantasies you’ve described to me come true.  What will it be?”

“Stay,” I croaked.  I was hard in my jeans, feverish and eager for this.  For him

 He chuckled lowly.  “Good boy.  I was hoping you’d say that.”

I flushed, not really understanding how a single word of praise from him could make me feel so damn good. 

He didn’t speak again, just let go of my arms.  I let them fall to my sides, waiting.  His hands were sure and steady as they worked my shirt off my torso, and before I could blink, he had it twisted around my forearms, holding my arms immobile.  I was helpless, and if the way my cock was throbbing was any indication, I really fucking liked it.  Somehow, he got me out of my boots and jeans, and then I was naked and blindfolded, restrained and helpless in front of him. 

He stepped closer to me, and I felt the heat of his body against mine.  His clothes brushed my bare skin, and that only made me harder, knowing he was fully dressed while I was naked.   I jumped when he finally spoke.  “I’ve been watching you for a lot longer than you ever realized.”

I licked my lips, trying to force my dry mouth to make words, but he continued on like he wasn’t expecting me to continue.  His hands began to run across my bare torso as he spoke.  “I watched you move into this place, watched you fuck the ridiculous little groupies, and watched how they bored you.”

Suddenly, his fingers buried themselves in my hair, gripping hard.  I could feel his breath, hot against my bare neck, and I whimpered.  “This whole time you’ve been wanting more, haven’t you?”

I nodded, my head going fuzzy with need for him.  “I think you’ve been waiting for me.  Waiting for me to show you just how good it can be.”

Jerkily, I nodded again, even though the movement pulled sharply at my hair, still in his grip.  Abruptly, he bent me forward, and I shuffled awkwardly onto the mattress on my knees, struggling to balance.  He lowered my torso to the bed, and with my arms still pinned behind me, I had to rest on my shoulders and chest, my head turned to the side. 

With my ass in the air, I felt vulnerable, exposed, but rather than the awkward, discomfort that it should bring, it made me shiver in anticipation.  He stepped away from me, and I heard his quiet footfalls as he walked around the bed.  “I’ve watched you for so long, I know where everything I need is.”  A drawer slid open.  “For example, your condoms and lube are right here.  Do you want me to use them on you?”

“Yes,” I choked out.

The footsteps returned to the spot behind me, and I heard him chuckle.  “You don’t really talk a whole lot, do you?  I know you can, I’ve heard you telling me your every dirty little fantasy.  So that must mean you’re too excited about what’s going to happen tonight.”

He slapped my ass, and a quick, stinging pain spread across my right ass cheek.  I grunted and heard him chuckle again.  “Oh, you are going to be fun, boy.  And tonight, I think I like the idea of you not talking.  You stay quiet while I have my way with you.”

I nodded and took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever was to come.  There were few things I wasn’t willing to do—he’d had me tell him what they were over the phone—and strangely enough, I trusted him.  Turning my fantasies over to him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

His hands were more purposeful now as they roamed over my body.  Behind the blindfold, I closed my eyes and let it all wash over me.  Letting go was easy; he touched and I responded.  His slick fingers pressed inside me, opened me up, and readied me for him.  I was shaking by the time his cock pushed into me, the only thing anchoring me was the tight grip of his hands on my hips.  His hard, steady strokes had me gritting my teeth until my jaw clenched.  My cock was hard and leaking as it bounced against my stomach with every thrust inside me.

“Your ass is every bit as good as I imagined,” he said.  I would have thought he was totally unaffected by what we were doing, but there was a small tremor in his voice at the end.  My breath hitched when his thumbs spread my cheeks.  I could almost feel his gaze on me.  “My dick looks so good inside you.  I almost wish you could see it.”

With every word he spoke, I could feel myself growing harder, my balls drawing up, pleasure coiling my belly, and the urge to come getting stronger and stronger.  I hated not being able to jerk off while he fucked me, and for a moment, I struggled against the shirt that bound my arms together.  One hand on the middle of my back calmed me, his warm palm just resting there.  He leaned forward, his chest covering my back.  “What do you need?” he asked huskily.

“Hand on my cock,” I gritted out.  “I need to come.”

“You can’t have a hand on your cock.  I want you to come without it.  You’re going to come with just my dick in your ass.”  I felt his breath on the back of my neck, hot and damp.  His teeth grazed the skin there, biting down until it stung.  “And you’re not going to come until I tell you to.  Just like you did over the phone.”

I turned my head to the other side, offering up my neck so he could access it better.  His tongue lapped at the spot he’d just bit down on, and I shuddered.  “You’re mine, boy, and I’m in control of when you come.”

I nodded, my cheek rubbing against the sheets.  I was his, that’s all I needed to remember.  He sat up then, running his blunt nails down my back.  I bucked against him and let out a strangled gasp when the movement made his cock press against my prostate.  He sped up, fucking me harder, pushing my arms against the small of my back with both hands.  I was panting, sweat slicking my skin, my head swimming. 

“Please,” I begged.  “Please, please.”

“You’d do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you?  Anything to come.”

“Yes,” I gasped.  “Anything.”

“Would you let me film you being fucked?”  I nodded.  “What about letting someone else fuck you?  Someone I wanted to take you?”

“Okay,” I granted, so desperate to come I’d agree to anything. 

“What if we both fucked you at the same time?” he teased, one hand reaching forward to grip my hair hard.  “Him in your mouth, me in your ass?”

I moaned, and that was all the answer he needed.  “You like that thought, don’t you?”  He chuckled and twisted his hand in my hair harder.  “What about both of us in your ass? Filling you so full you’ll feel us in you a week later?”

With a strangled shout, I shuddered, barely stopping myself from coming.  “Oh, you like that,” he grunted.  “You like that a lot.”

He gave me three, hard thrusts and then he leaned forward, speaking lowly in my ear.  “Come on, boy.  Show me how good of a pet you are.  Come for me.  Right. Now.”

Once the words registered, I let go, come spattering against my chest, dripping onto the sheets below me.  “Good boy,” he growled as I shivered under him.  His hips stilled, and I felt his cock jerk inside me, filling the condom.  My head swam, and when he pulled out, I collapsed onto my side.  I was barely coherent enough to realize he was unwinding my shirt from my wrists.  He rolled me onto my stomach and disappeared for a moment.  I heard the sound of the condom being discarded and then the mattress dipped under his weight.  His warm hands rubbed my aching shoulders, easing the tension I was only beginning to become aware of.  My frantic heart rate had slowed, the sweat had cooled, and I was limp and relaxed by the time he was done. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear.  “You’re such a good boy.  I want you to do one more thing for me, okay?”

I nodded, feeling the heavy pull of sleep already.  “I’m going to take the blindfold off, but I want you to keep your eyes closed until you hear me leave.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

He ran a hand along my back, and I sighed with contentment.  The blindfold disappeared from around my eyes, but I clenched them tightly closed.  He got up to leave, but I blindly groped for him, managing to catch his wrist.  “This isn’t the end, is it?”

He chuckled and loosened my grip on his arm.  Running a hand through my hair, he leaned forward again, brushing his lips against my cheekbone.  “No,” he murmured.  “This is just the beginning.”

Happy Birthday, Jules!

Update: 5/16/14  – With Jules’ permission (because these boys are hers)  Sunburns and Sunsets has been expanded and is now available for purchase.

Apparently everyone I know is born this time of year, because I have another birthday to celebrate. Jules has been a loyal pre-reader for me for years, on both the het stories and the slash. She is a lovely, lovely person and I couldn’t let her birthday go by without writing her a little something.

This gif inspired this short story. I hope you enjoy it, Jules! Happiest of Birthdays to you.

Happy Birthday, Jules!

p.s. And big thanks to Sally who whipped this story into shape in no time.

Sunburns and Sunsets