Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: A continuation of the "Rumors" Series
Pairings: Brian/OMC
Category: Angst, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Date: June 11, 2003
Summary: Brian's experiences in the backroom "culture" begin to have their effects; Hammer is a powerful influence...and Troy is, too, in his own way.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Unsafe Sex
“If sex is a team-sport, I want to be the quarterback.” Brian Kinney, 1996
When I awoke the next morning, he was lying beside me, watching me.
“Hi. Good morning,” I said in that first raspy voice of the morning-after-the-night-before.
“You were really out of it,” he said with a smile. “When I came back upstairs, you were out-like-a-light, right in the middle of the bed….and you’re a pretty big guy. I thought I might have to sleep on the couch…but I managed to bend over you from the far-side and to grip you by the wrist and ankle to pull you over onto your side to make room for me. I coulda raped that ass of yours and you’d be none the wiser…but that woulda taken all the fun out of it.” He smiled and rolled onto his back looking up at the ceiling. He was silent for a moment, then resumed. “Are you gonna hook-up with Hammer? I mean…it’s none of my business…and you don’t have to answer that, but…”
“He’s OK,” I said, rolling toward him. “He certainly knows what he wants and goes after it. I can say that for him.”
“Well, it surprised me, I guess…that you’d hook-up with him after what happened the night before. Some guys woulda come back with a knife to slit his throat.”
“Do you know him?” I asked. “…know about him?”
“We were buddies once,” Troy said with his eyes still on the ceiling. “We rode together in the same group. But we had a falling-out…over another guy…but he still comes to Rumors, even though we don’t talk much. The only reason he spoke to me Friday night was to give me your keys and wallet…and on Saturday to gloat a little, I think.” He started to get up. “Want some coffee?” he asked. “I made a pot earlier.”
“Sure,” I replied. “To blow the cobwebs away.”
He pulled on some running shorts and left the bedroom…but he continued to talk from a distance. “You probably shouldn’t tell him you stayed overnight…here. Sugar and milk?”
“Black,” I said, regaining my full voice. “He doesn’t seem like the jealous type…”
“It’s the old biker code. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The friend of my enemy is my enemy, too. It’s very medieval…. Almost like the Boy Scouts.”
“I’m sure he’d love that comparison,” I said with a laugh. I found my jeans under the bed and put them on leaving the fly open, then followed the sound of his voice to the kitchen.
“It’s like honor among thieves…trustworthy and loyal to your brothers…they value courtesy, kindness, and obedience, too…and screw everyone else.” He handed me a cup as I rounded the corner. “And once you’re an outsider…you’re always outside.”
“Well, despite his roughness, he’s been nice to me,” I said, then took a sip.
“Oh, he only goes for the best,” Troy said, looking suddenly serious. “And you’re the closest thing to male perfection we have around here. The face, the body, the personality, the openness, the willingness to experiment…you’ve got it all.” Perhaps I looked surprised…or I blushed. “No, I mean it,” he continued. “Just tell me this. Do guys watch you walk by?”
“Sure,” I said. “But they look at everyone.”
“No, they don’t,” he said emphatically. “Watch their eyes when someone else walks by. Have you ever done that?”
“No,” I said. “But I’m just a little taller than most guys.”
“It’s not just that. Your face is…dare I say “beautiful?” A combination of intelligence, innocence, devilishness,…and a touch of sadness in the eyes. Sorta like reading a John Retchy novel. Very expressive…and alive…changeable…erotic…interesting. But not in a feminine way. Some pretty guys look like muscular females. Your face has the classic look of ancient Greek perfection.”
“I think my nose is big,” I said apologetically.
He ignored it and went on. “And your physique. Surely you know how wonderful your body looks…and feels.” He reached up to stroke across my pecs as if touching a statue in the museum…afraid to be caught by the guard. “You work-out to make it perfect. Admit it.”
“Not that much,” I said. “I go to the gym mostly to look at other guys. But I like how my body feels when I’m fit. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see anyone special.”
“And do you have trouble talking to strangers?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“I usually don’t approach strangers to talk to them, but I don’t have a problem replying to someone if they make the first move. That feels okay.” That was always the way it was…if someone initiated contact, I could relax and ease into it. But I never knew how to begin a conversation with a guy.
“That’s the innocence and openness,” he said. “A perfect example.” I didn’t know what to say, so I just took a gulp of my coffee and let silence settle over the kitchen. Finally, the coffee was gone. “I need to get back to State College,” I said. “I have studying to do for tomorrow.” He nodded…a little sadly, perhaps. I guessed that, despite being surrounded by hot, horny guys almost every night, he lived a fairly lonely and subdued life. “I’ll be back next Friday,” I added…and that made him smile.
……………………….
The following Friday, a warm evening turned into a thunderous downpour as I drove the 40 miles to Altoona. It took an extra half-hour to get there. The parking lot was full; bad weather always brought the outdoor fuckers indoors; so I was drenched when I reached the door and my white tee-shirt stuck to my skin like a white coat of paint. The roar of the rain on the fiberglass portico made everyone turn toward the door when it opened. I stood there, looking like I was half-drowned and dripping onto the tile floor.
I headed to my usual spot…a real creature of habit, I guess…and Troy waved from the far end of the bar in anticipation of welcoming me. A sharp whistle from one of the tables caught my attention. It was Jake.
“Over here,” he said as if I were a waiter. “I want ya to meet some guys.” There were six of them crammed into one booth with Jake at an outside corner. An additional five sat at an adjacent booth participating in loud conversation with those at the first table.
“This is Brian,” he said, slapping me on the back. “Meet the Lenape Nation,” he said sweeping his arm over the two booths. “I brought the whole, fuckin’ family.”
I nodded and smiled…as they threw popcorn at me…and someone shook a beer and sprayed it straight into the air.
“I have something for you,” Jake said reaching into the corner of the booth. He handed me a wide leather strap with a buckle.
“It’s a little big,” I said with a grin as I pretended to unbutton my jeans.
They all laughed. “Not from what Hammer tells us!” one shouted.
“It’s not a fucking cock-strap. It’s a collar…for your neck, “ he said over the din. “A badge of honor…and a sign of belonging…to our little group here. Wear it every time you’re here at Rumors, OK?”
I held it, still unsure of its significance or meaning. No one else wore a collar. It looked like something a Great Dane would wear…black leather with chrome studs at intervals and one metal loop…for a leash, I supposed. He took it from my hands, spun me around, and bound it tightly around my neck. There was another yell from his buddies.
“Ever ride a bike, boy?” I knew he didn’t mean the old Sears bicycle I rode to high school.
“Probably not like yours,” I said. “I always swore never to ride something I couldn’t lift if it fell over.” The bikers laughed because one of the Harleys had fallen over a few days before and it took four of them to lift it.
How about a ride…right now?” he said, leaning closer.
“It’s raining like crazy out there,” I said. “At least, it was when I came in.”
“All the better,” he said. “The speed, …the feel of the rain against your body…it’ll get your heart pounding and your dick hard in just a few seconds. It’s the closest thing to a twenty minute orgasm.” The others added their encouragement. I was skeptical and a little cautious, but I didn’t want to appear to be afraid, so I agreed.
As we stood to leave, he pointed to Troy at the bar. “Leave your shirt here,” he said.
“It’s already soaking-wet,” I said. “It can’t get much wetter.”
“Take it off,” he repeated. “I want you to feel it. You afraid you’ll melt in a little rain-storm?” He opened his Harley wet-suit and removed the top.
I stripped the wet shirt off my torso and tossed it to Troy who looked at me skeptically. “What are you getting’ yourself into?” he seemed to say.
It was still pouring when we reached the parking lot. I could pick his bike out of the lineup before he showed me…a blue and black ’88 Electra Glide Classic…the original King of the Highway…with the rear-mounted saddlebag and backrest. The seat was very wet as I straddled the passenger seat. He climbed aboard in front of me. “I’d love to put you up-front, with my cock in your ass as we rode down the highway,” he said over his shoulder. “I’d hit every pot-hole I could find.” He put on goggles…no helmet.
I put my hands on his waist as he revved the engine and glided onto the street. He released one handlebar long enough to reach back and pull one of my hands around his waist. “Hang on,” he yelled over the sound of the engine. The bike accelerated rapidly and I wrapped my other arm around his waist, too. As we sped-up, the rain bit into my face, pec, and shoulder as I tried to look over his shoulder, but the drops were so big, they stung like small rocks. I ducked my face down behind his substantial shoulder and closed my eyes.
I could taste the salt from his sweat as the rain washed over his shoulder and down his back to my face pressed against his scapula. The contrast between his warm skin and the cold rain was intense. I felt him laughing as my arms tightened around his waist.
We were on the highway then…going so fast my skin burned from the spray. The windshield protected him a little, but he must have felt it more than I. Luckily, the traffic was light; we were going almost 80 miles-per-hour one time I tried to look at the speedometer.
He was right. My heart was pounding from the sheer fear of the experience. I clung to him because he was the only thing keeping me from falling off the bike to certain death. He was a madman…riding like this in the rain! And he was doing it on-purpose. Making me feel the fear.
He reversed direction at a cross-over. The rain was now coming from behind us, but he sped so quickly, it hardly mattered. When we got back to Rumors, I was cold and soaked…and shaking from the experience. For some reason, I couldn’t let-go of him even when the bike stopped in its original parking place. The roar of the motor ceased. The rain had almost stopped.
“Danger is the spice of life,” he said, turning to speak to me again. “…the danger of getting caught, the danger of getting hurt, even the danger of making a fool of yourself.” He paused, and when I didn’t say anything, he continued. “Even a brush with Death now-and-then makes you appreciate an unresolved life.”
“That was intense.” I finally managed to say something.
“If you’re gonna live, live hard,” he said. “If you’re gonna ride, ride fast. If you’re gonna fuck, fuck hard.”
“I thought we were gonna die,” I admitted.
“A short, intense life is better than a long, boring one…especially one lived with regrets for never having done things that you’re now incapable of doing anyway. You die when you quit living,” he continued. “It just takes some people forty years to fall down.” He gripped my hands for a moment, then unwrapped my arms from around his waist. “Hop off,” he said. As I put my toe on the pavement, I realized my shoe was full of water.
I must have looked pale when we re-entered the bar. His buddies knew what he had done, and they were waiting for my reaction. I grabbed a glass of melted ice, filled my mouth with water, and as I approached the table, I did an impression of a garden-fountain…dripping, standing in a pool of water, and shooting a thin stream through pursed lips onto the table. They went wild.
Hammer brought an additional chair to the booth and indicated for me to sit. I was still dripped; my wet hair was in my eyes.
“Take this,” he said, opening a snuff-tin that contained numerous small, white pills.
I looked skeptical, probably. “What’s this?” I said, turning over an unmarked pill that he had dropped into my palm. He extended the tin to everyone at the table and it was passed to the next table as well.
“An ‘upper,’” he replied. “You’ll be a god tonight.” I was remembering Troy’s warning. I hadn’t done drugs that often…just some pot and some occasional hash when I could get it. Speed was something else. “Don’t you trust me?” he said. “It won’t kill you…or even knock you out. It’s just something to ‘improve’ the evening. Hell, everyone else is using it. I’ll take two.” He retrieved the tin again and dumped out two tablets into his palm…then popped them into his mouth. “No sweat,” he added. “Take it or leave it. I don’t care.” I put the pill in my mouth and tried to get enough saliva to swallow it, but finally took a sip from someone’s unfinished beer on the table. “You probably don’t need any stimulant,” he continued. “You’re young…and new at this. The adrenaline rush may be enough to keep you going all night. I love how your inner thighs tremble when you get excited. But…once you’ve fucked on Speed, it’ll never be the same. It’s like every sensation is ten-times as powerful. You’ll see.” His hand slipped down from the front of my thigh to the inner surface as if he were checking to see if my Gracilis would give a flutter.
After two more rounds of drinks, the temperature started to rise…al least that’s how it seemed. I could almost feel the steam rising from my damp shoulders. Hammer’s hand on my back began to feel so good, I wanted more. My own hand on my chest felt like someone else’s…and I could feel my cock creeping down my left pant-leg under the damp denim. I reached for Hammer’s shoulder…hard deltoid under tight skin…I could almost feel the muscle striations. I was touching his back, then, like he was stroking mine…sensuous touching as a prelude. I wanted more.
“Ready for fun and games, men and boys? It’s time to do what we came here to do. Fuck our brains out.” Hammer stood and gripped me behind the neck, pulling me up.
The group headed en masse toward the basement. I could still feel water running down my back in rivulets…or was it sweat? My hair hung onto my damp forehead in ringlets. The wet leather of the collar seemed to tighten as it began to dry. It was as if I could sense every part of my body at the same time…sensations I usually took for granted were now sources of pleasure.
At the bottom of the stairs, Hammer turned right and everyone followed. The second large room in the basement contained a padded leather table, the X-shaped cross I had noticed the week before, and the collection of sex-toys. The room seemed smaller with 12 guys in it.
“Let’s get naked!” one voice said…but some had already begun. Boots, jeans, and other items were tossed into the corner on into a pile outside the door. Getting out of tight, wet jeans with guys watching is no easy task. I could barely untie my running shoes; the laces were soaked and my fingers weren’t functioning quite right. I peeled the denim off my thighs almost like removing a condom. But it felt good, somehow, to stand triumphantly naked in the crowd. I remembered what Troy had said; they were all looking at me. Most of them were in their early 30s, I figured…and I could tell that Hammer had chosen them because they all fit his “type”…tall, muscular, smooth, physically-fit in that “outdoors” sort of way, as if their bodies were toned by work, not by a Nautilus machine. Some of them looked military, but the closest base was the Carlisle Barracks. I wondered how he’d gathered this band of cycle-fuckers.
They quieted-down when Hammer gripped the back of my neck again. “We’re here tonight because of this guy,” he said, tilting his head toward me. “I like him…I like his looks…I like his spunk…”
Someone added “We’re sure to see plenty of THAT tonight,” and everyone laughed.
“He’s young,” Hammer continued, “but he can hold his own with this band of roughnecks.”
“I’ll hold it for him,” said another. They laughed again as Hammer took a swipe at the guy.
“When there’s a new guy, we always start the same way…sorta a welcome,” he said, eye-to-eye with me. His face glistened with a sheen of sweat, with dark shadows cast by the overhead light directly over the table, the only light in the room. “Just lie down here,” he said, patting the black leather of the table. “…on your back. We wanta enjoy that great body of yours.”
I stepped to the table and pressed my ass against the leather edge. I lifted onto my toes to plant my ass on the edge of the table, but I didn’t lie down. I kept remembering what Troy had said about unwary guys getting tied up and fucked senseless in this room. And it was about to happen to me. The drugs hadn’t made me that stupid…yet. I leaned back on stiff arms, unwilling to lie down.
“Come on,” he said. “Pete here is already dripping on the floor. Just lie back. We’re not gonna hurt you. No ropes, no cuffs…maybe just a little physical restraint, but you can stop it at any time. Just lie back and we’ll do the rest. Come on, boy. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.”
Despite Troy’s warning…and despite Hammer’s “danger-is-the-spice-of-life” attitude, I trusted the guy to keep his word. I was a member of the group now…and there was honor among thieves. I lay back on the table. The leather was cool against my now-warm skin, suddenly dry from the flush of the Speed. He gripped my ankles and pulled me toward the end of the table so that my ass rested on the edge. The others gathered around the table, closer than before. My whole field-of-vision was filled with hot guys holding their cocks at table-level. Hands pressed on my shoulders from behind, gently holding me in place against the table. I reached back behind my head, arching my back to feel who was there, and strong hands gripped my wrists and held them to the table. Warm hands stroked my pits and triceps…across my pecs and the valleys of my abs.
Hammer lifted my knees and spread them wide. “Just remember how good it felt,” he said as a warm liquid bathed my balls and crack. Fingers massaged it into my hole…an oily lube that let the fingers slide deep into my rectum. I tried to lift my head to see if he was wearing a condom, but it was inside me before I could see. His oily hand closed around my shaft and gave it a few strokes. The entire group was stroking now…a cock-head brushed my lat…another on my hip. I looked straight up at the light; even its brightness was a pleasure-giving stimulus. Everything felt good…the fullness in my ass, the leather against my back…the hands stroking my body…desiring me…getting pleasure from touching me…the radiated warmth of eleven bodies so close to mine…the pressure of Hammer’s shoulders against my knees…the tension in my muscles as he used my legs as shock-absorbers to dampen the impact…the feel of my leg-hairs against his sweaty lats…fingers stroking the arch of my foot…the murmur of wordless pleasure…a finger boring into my navel…sudden tightness on my nipples….something brushing my forearms…each sensation magnified and multiplied. Hammer’s face in full-shadow looming over me…the whiteness of his teeth showing between curled lips…chin thrust forward, eyes closed. He was sucking breath open-mouthed. I could feel his chest expanding against my inner shins. His hand,… a sheath on my shaft, moving in-rhythm with the pressure in my interior. The feeling in my ass…of having folds ironed-flat…of soft membranes stretch to their capacity…of pressure deep inside me that I had never felt before…the pounding of my pulse against the rhythm of his thrusts. I used my knees to press him out of me…so that his next thrust would sink-in the entire distance…bodies moving in synchrony…part of the same precision machine.
His hand that had been stroking my cock suddenly released me and spread its oil over my abs and chest. Simultaneously, my right hand was released and I quickly brought it to my own shaft to continue the stimulation…slowly, at first, and then more rapidly…knowing exactly how to make it feel good…in my peripheral vision I could see my hand on my own cock…a blur in slow-motion…moving so fast that my eye could not discern it…feeling my cock flush with heat from the friction.
I tightened my ass on his cock, wanting this to last forever. He responded by thrusting harder. He wanted to work for it. He wanted me to resist. I thrust upward with my knees, trying to push him off of me, but he gripped my legs and attacked more brutally, showing me who was boss. I lay back, then,...ass still tight, but letting him have me.
I felt the first splash of warm cum…then the second. They were all getting off…watching my body respond to his punishment…an object of adoration…sensuous enough to tip them over the edge…each finding some part of me to be the trigger. It must be the nature of guys…when one cums, it triggers them all to cum. The moans were louder now, interrupted by sharp cries or cursing. Cum hit my face from two directions leaving swags of thick fluid across both cheeks and over my right eye. More hit my belly, filling the well of my navel and dripping down my side. More shots hit my face…lips and chin…and as I gasped open-mouthed, another gob landed on-target.
As I opened my eyes, I could see glistening droplets flying into the funnel of bright light from many directions. Hands pressed against me as guys leaned forward to shoot their loads onto me; other hands spread the slippery fluid over my chest before it lost its gel-like properties.
I could feel it now…that feeling of inevitability when you can barely hear a train in the distance, but you know you should step off the tracks. Deep inside me…the itch you can’t scratch…the pressure that no relaxation can alleviate…the “glowing-spot” that spreads and intensifies until it consumes your entire body in one neutron explosion. I gripped Hammer now with my other hand, pulling him into me with clenched fingers…wanting him to be buried deep inside me when the moment came.
He knew.
I gulped a breath, to shout, and felt the cum drip down my throat.
One cataclysmic moment…when everything went white and Time stopped…a microsecond in which I felt my body explode into atoms, and the atoms into sub-atomic particles…matter turning to pure energy…annihilation.
I awoke to find his cock literally forcing the cum out of my shaft like a pump bailing-out a boat…thrust, squirt…thrust, squirt. The pressure of his penetrations pressed somewhere on my interior that was directly connected to the muscular reflex. Ropes of jizz swirled onto my chest, mixing with that of the others. Hands quickly spread it over my torso. Awash in cum. A mixing and a joining.
“Nicky!…” He came inside me…waves of pressure…a throbbing deep in my interior like small, muffled explosions…thud…thud…thud. Just pressure…no heat or liquid. He had worn a condom this time. Safer, but less satisfying. I cried out as I felt him withdraw…as if his cock had become a permanent part of my body and its removal comprised an amputation.
He moved on to someone else, then…and he indicated that I should, too. I climbed off the table, still dripping from my jizz-bath, and pushed the first guy I could reach chest down on the table. No recovery needed…my cock was still hard…engorged…crimson. I took him in one thrust with my still-lubed cock.
“Slow down, Babe. You’ve earned some rest.”
“We’re calling it a night,” he said. “Everyone’s going home…except you. It looks like I’ve got another bed-mate for tonight…this morning, actually. Come on upstairs. I’ll help you find your clothes.”
I understood the part about “bed.” He wanted me to spend the night again. We hadn’t fucked last week, but I was sure gonna have him tonight. I was a fucking-machine.
I don’t remember climbing the stairs to the bar…or the bedroom. Hammer was nowhere to be found. I tried to remember the last time I’d seen him. I think it was when we were sharing the same guy…fucking him at both ends. He had reached out to touch my face, and I had sucked his fingers.
“God, you smell like the backroom,” he said. “Sleeping with you would be like sleeping with the Pittsburgh Steelers.” He maneuvered me toward the bathroom. “How about a nice, tepid shower?” he said as he left me standing in front of the shower door while he slipped off his shirt and jeans. He guided me into the stall, turned on the water, and stepped in behind me. His hands were suddenly all over me, lathering my skin, smearing away the crud, and spreading the rinse water. His hands were nice. I smiled with my eyes closed as he spun me around and washed my front. After soaping my face, he pulled me into the water stream to rinse it…and then our lips met for the first time. “You won’t remember this,” he said (but I did), “but I’m not gonna pass up this chance again.” I smiled in the middle of the kiss…experiencing the tenderness that stood in sharp contrast to the sensations earlier in the evening.
“I don’t kiss guys…much,” I said as our mouths parted.
“For a beginner, you do a fine job,” he said. “It’s a quaint, but charming, custom…and you really should develop a ‘taste’ for it.”
“Guys don’t kiss…” I started to say, but his lips were on mine again.
“We’ll argue this over breakfast,” he whispered.
The water stopped and I opened my eyes. He was waiting for me with a large white towel. “Can you do it?” he said. “Or shall I help you?”
“Who’s ‘Nicky’?” I said, not quite comprehending his question.
“It’s too long a story for 5am,” he said guiding me to the bed as the towel buffed my back. “We’ll talk about it in the morning…if you remember to ask.” I made a conscious effort…carved it in-stone in my memory…to ask him in the morning. This time there was no problem sharing the bed. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close. I sank into him like falling into a warm pool.
“Speed… Feed… Need… Bleed… Seed…” I thought as I drifted off into the void.
