Sex in the Sky

“To Fancy Man Readers: Thank you, kind Sirs and gentle Syrs for your heartfelt support of the Fancy Man series. After getting several requests for another story, Fancy Man reappeared to me and offered this indulgent three-part tale. I hope it meets with your approval and high expectations.

For new readers, this is the fourth in the Fancy Man series. Though this story can be read on its own, it does include characters and settings introduced in prior tales. These earlier stories are: *Fancy Man & The Black Lion’s Mark*, followed by *Southern Gent* and *Lipstick Lesbian*. I hope you all enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them.”

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*Chapter 1: Fancy Man and the British Cowboy*

Relationships launch like ships, with cheers and champagne, with high spirits and excitement. Everything the other person does is fascinating, wonderful. And you want it to stay that way. You don’t want to have that first bitter argument, you don’t want to feel that first stab of disappointment. As with a new car, you don’t want to be the one to put that first scratch on the romance.

Sometimes though you manage to avoid the scratch only to end up in a car wreck. I was heading for just such a wreck and didn’t know it. In fact, it took a another’s heartache and a mission to save him to make me aware of my own peril.

It started on a Wednesday afternoon at the Cockpit Bar, a little before happy hour. Humpday, relaxed though it may be, is the second most popular day for cruising at the Pit. Perhaps it’s because our patrons don’t mind staying up late Wednesday night and being tardy for work on Thursday. Or perhaps they just need a little tease and spank to get them through the rest of the week.

A Wednesday night fuck expects less and is easier to satisfy. Which is why I’d picked it over bump-and-grind Saturday for the experiment I had in mind. I’m a big, black, role-playing top known as the Fancy Man. Bringing fantasies to life is my specialty. I’m talking private, shameful, S&M dramas that most men wouldn’t confess to their priests. The ones that have them furiously blushing even as they spit them out and beg me to make them real.

I love being privy to such secrets. And I love bringing them to life. Being a vain and arrogant asshole, I also get off on being the object of fear, awe and desire in these fantasies. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s dick has gotta get sucked.

Two-and-a-half months back, however, I’d seriously fallen for one of these desperate men: a sexy, southern bottom named Charles Beaumont. Charles had some very strange issues and problems, but that’s another story.

In a nutshell: I hadn’t given him a collar, but we were in a master-slave relationship, arguably the most serious relationship of my life. Yet every Saturday night, I went to the Cockpit and picked out a new toy. Charles understood and accepted this; it was part and parcel of being with the Fancy Man.

Recently, however, I’d gotten the feeling that something was gnawing at him. I ought to have asked what it was, but I arrogantly assumed it had to do with being left out of my Saturday night adventures. So, I’d decided it was time to take my boy wonder to work with me, give him a chance to help.

The Cockpit is my bar, the place where everyone knows my name and, hopefully, shivers with fearful pleasure when they utter it. I know its smell, its flavor. Walking through the door that evening, I also knew that something was very wrong.

Only a few of the regulars were there, which wasn’t unusual prior to happy hour. But they were all huddled at one spot of the island bar. Charles caught sight of me and hurried over. He was wearing jeans and a white tee as always, his muscular shoulders straining against the cotton fabric in a way that always warmed my blood. His pale gray eyes were anxious.

“Sir.” Whatever was bothering him, he didn’t let it interfere with the protocols I’d set up between us. He came to attention, hands clasped behind the small of his back. Charles is broad, but not that tall. At 6′4″ I had a good seven inches on him. Which I liked. It allowed me to lean in and, grabbing him by his curly, black hair, kiss him rough and hard.

It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve done this, Charles always catches his breath as if surprised. He may well be. He has this odd idea that he’s unworthy of my kisses.

Our tongues dueled for a moment, and I could almost hear his Adam’s apple bob with desire. I ran a hand down his throat and over his shoulder and felt a quiver. It was very flattering. Nearly three months together and Charlie was still hopelessly in lust with me. Every kiss I gave him promised sex and torment and left him weak in the knees.

And every kiss I got from him had me wanting to rip off his jeans and pin him to the wall.

“What’s up?” I breathed.

“Up?” he was gratifyingly glassy-eyed. “Oh.” He glanced over his shoulder and dropped his voice. “Robbie got dumped.”

“Shit.” Robbie was senior bartender at the Pit and one of my closest friends. He wasn’t into the leather scene at all, in fact, the man is a dyed-in-the-wool romantic of the most peaceable and tasteful kind. The past six weeks he’d been deeply into a new boyfriend and it had seemed serious. Love-letters, phone calls, walks in the park. There’d been candlelit dinners, and, on Sunday mornings, breakfast in bed, including mimosas and a red rose. Even the sex, from what Robbie had breathlessly described, had been romantic and tender. Little wonder that Robbie had been sure, oh-so-sure, that this guy was “the one.”

I’d been more skeptical, but then I know something about Robbie and the kinds of guys he picks. Let’s just say this has happened before.

“He didn’t see it coming at all,” Charles whispered on, “They were going to go to some bed-and-breakfast for his birthday. Then he got the e-mail. Son-of-bitch didn’t even have the courage to break with him in person.”

Robbie’s birthday was some eight days away, toward the end of October. Libra.

Double shit. I’d strangle the asshole.

“We’re trying to cheer him up,” Charles said as I made for the bar. We included the Pit’s other bartender, Jordon, jet-haired and bisexual, and two of our regulars, Terry, an old fuck buddy of mine, and Katie, the Cockpit’s only leatherfemme.

Robbie was behind the bar. Robbie works as a personal trainer when he isn’t at the Pit and from the neck down he’s a powerhouse. Above he’s freckle-faced and red-haired, a true carrot-top. He’s also short, which is why I jokingly refer to him as an over-muscled leprechaun. He looked as if he’d just lost his pot of gold. His blue eyes were bloodshot, the lids all red and puffy from crying.

Katie was holding his hand. It rested limp and huge in her delicate fingers.

“Hey Mason,” he rubbed at his damp lashes with his free hand. “Get ya something?”

“I’ll get it,” Jordon said, snagging down a beer glass.

“You’re just in time,” Terry said with false cheer, “We were talking cartoons. Classic, animated films with singing animals and shit.”

“Cartoons?” I matched his tone, playing along. No, of course Robbie’s fine. He hasn’t just had the stuffing ripped out of him. Let’s all pretend everything peachy. “Please!”

“What’s wrong with liking cartoons?” Katie asked, which was a little strange as with her kittenish face and satin brown hair, she might have stepped out of a cartoon herself.

“It’s “queer”.” I pitched my voice just so to get a laugh. “It’s queer” was a favorite put-down of Master Nash, the bar’s owner.

A smile twitched at Robbie’s lips. Good enough.

“Come on, Mason,” Terry urged, right on cue. “You were a little kid once. Your mommy must have taken you to one of those films. Or shown you one at home. What was your favorite? Who did you want to be?”

“Snow White,” Jordan sighed as he set a beer before me.

“You liked “Snow White”?” Charles quipped. “Did you want to be one of the dwarves or the prince?”

“I wanted to be Snow White,” Jordan grinned. “Hauling water and scrubbing floors for that wicked stepmother. Is she a dream dominatrix or what?”

“Hadn’t viewed it in that way,” Charles admitted.

“Mason?” Terry urged.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but while you all were watching girly fairytales, I was watching sci-fi movies. “Star Wars” n’ shit. Guy stuff.”

“I’m betting his favorite was “Tarzan”,” Jordon said.

“You call me King of the Jungle and will beat your ass like a drum, white man.”

Jordan perked. “Promise?”

“Doesn’t count,” Terry objected. “The characters have to sing.”

“Okay, wiseass, then what’s your favorite?”

Terry had curly brown hair and a boyish face. He was deeply into fraternity hazing fantasies. I mean deeply. New pledge at the brutal frat house was the only game he ever wanted to play. So I wasn’t at all surprised when he said, ruefully, “That one where the girl dresses as a boy and joins the army. I wanted to join up, too. ”

“And get fucked in the ass by every cartoon recruit,” I mocked. That got another laugh.

“While they’re singing!” Jordan added, which prompted more laughter.

“Charles?” Robbie asked. He seemed to be getting into it, or at least he was letting us think we were helping him.

My partner blushed, as he has a tendency to do. “”Aladdin”.”

That interested me. “You wanted to be Aladdin?”

“Um, no, I wanted to be the genie.”

Stupid me. Of course, Charles wanted to be the slave of the lamp, forced to grant wishes and call the owner “Master.” What else was new?

“Katie?” Jordon nodded to her.

She smiled sweetly while stroking the coppery hair on the back of Robbie’s wrist. “Cinderella. I wanted her dress and her carriage and those beautiful glass slippers.”

I snorted. “I can see you talking to your fairy godmother now,” I notched my voice falsetto, “‘Fuck the prince, just let me go shopping!’”

The laughter was louder this time, more genuine. So I took a chance. “What about you, Rob?”

“Ah.” He smirked and rubbed at his eyes again. “”Beauty and the Beast”. I like that the guy and the girl spend the whole movie getting to know each other. Dining, dancing. Winning each other’s hearts.” He sighed wistfully.

“You’re sure you don’t have a favorite, Mason?” Terry asked. “”Lion King”? “Lady and the Tramp”? …”Bambi”?”

I flipped him off. Fucker knew I had a soft spot for animal movies. Not that I was going to admit to caring for big-eared “Dumbo”. Poor kid. Separated from his mom like that! I get teary-eyed just thinking of it.

“‘Fess up, Fancy Man!” Jordon urged.

“Only if we’re counting computer animated films.” I took a draft of beer. “They’re for “guys”.”

I got booed and raspberried for that. Customers were drifting in and Robbie and Jordon had to break away to fill orders.

“You holding up?” I managed to ask Rob at one point.

“As best I can,” he said getting down a bottle of gin. “But I think I’m going to be more like Cinderella from now on. All she wanted was that one night at the ball, a chance to be the center of attention and dance with the prince. Happily-ever-after was an unforeseen bonus. I think it’ll be easier on my poor heart if I lower my expectations to that. One happy night and nothing more.”

“Good thinking.”

He had something of a smile on his face, but he wiped at his eyes for the rest of the night.

#

“The older guy,” Charles said, sipping at his beer. Happy Hour was at an end and you could smell the mood shifting. Electronica was pounding out of Nash’s new digital jukebox, bottles and glasses were clanking, and the murmur in the air had turned to a kind of sexual purr. A chill, October wind had driven in the bears and biker gals who usually smoked cigarettes, pipes and cigars out in the parking lot. They were huddled about the pool table, smacking around the balls, amping up the hormone level.

Around the island bar hung men and women in leather vests and chaps demanding drinks. A few were restlessly circling round, uncertain if they wanted to top or bottom. They were searching for that one sexy ass or pair of demanding eyes to knock them into position. Meanwhile, against the walls, unclaimed bottoms waited for the summons of a hungry top. This included a couple of leather dykes who’d placed themselves right under the club flags that bore names like “Crusaders” and “Vikings.” They had on cropped tees to display the colorful, Japanese dragons tattooing their skin. The rest of the bottoms were crewcut boys in harnesses and jeans, one was wearing only a white jock strap and boots.

I liked the way his wiry pubic hair flared out around that pouch.

The older guy Charles was referring to was off to the side, standing apart from the rest. He looked to be in his forties, rangy in build and long in the face. He had flaxen hair and pale eyes.

“Interesting choice.” I swigged down my third beer of the night. Charles and I were in one of the orange booths that studded the opposite wall. The ones that still had framed pictures of 70’s airline crews above them, a remnant from when the Cockpit had been a regular bar owned by a retired pilot.

“Why that one?” I asked.

Charles, who had once been against that wall, shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like making decisions, slave-types never do. For Charles, however, it went deeper than that. He had some strange notions, ones usually held by Afrocentric types who think that Caucasians can’t be trusted. Which meant he held my dark-skinned judgments as naturally more valid than his white-skinned own. He was worried that he’d picked wrong.

“He’s been in here a few times,” my boy nervously explained, “and he’s always looking our way. So, he might be interested in the two of us. Mostly, though, he just…seems different.”

“You’re right.” Usually there’s some clue about a guy, what he’s into, a colored handkerchief or the way he wears his belt. This guy had on jeans, cowboy boots and shirt and bolo tie. He was leaning back against the wall relaxed. Almost as if he were watching a TV show.

“Go over and see if wants to join us,” I told Charles.

The boys against the wall, even the dykes, straightened up as Charles approached. When he went to the flaxen-haired fellow, shoulders slumped in disappointment. Why did the Fancy Man want “him”? A valid question as our choice was the frog among princes, the oldest and plainest of the lot.

His blond brows furrowed as Charles spoke, uncertain, and then a look of pure delight came across his long face. He pushed away from the wall to follow Charles back to our booth.

“Sir,” my boy brought him up to the table, “This is Nigel.”

The man smiled brightly. “A pleasure.” Was that a British accent? “Been hearing all about you.”

He held out a hand. I gamely shook it, and invited him to sit. He slid in and Charles followed. For a moment the music just pulsed around us, mingling with the chatter and clink of beer bottles. Most gents, lean and boney and middle aged, would’ve been intimidated trapped as he was between two brawny leathermen. Nigel, far from apprehensive, kept glancing from one to the other of us like a boy in candyland. It was decidedly un-bottom-like.

“So, tell us about yourself,” I ventured.

“Oh, well, I’ve moved here from Brighton…England that is. Got transferred.” His dialect had a hint of Michael Cane to it, making him sound even more jocular. “This is my new home, also my first time in the States. And I am loving it!”

He certainly seemed to be. Whoever said the British were reserved hadn’t met Nigel. The man gushed.

“Welcome to the colonies. So what’s your fantasy, Nigel?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right, that’s right. Um, well.” He chewed on his lower lip, “Well, I don’t expect very much, really. I mean, two lads like yourselves…I know you aren’t interested in banging an old geezer like me. But I’m fine just watching. Anything you’d like to do, if I could just watch.”

Charles and I exchanged startled looks.

“That’s pretty tame,” I said.

“Well, actually….” He glanced down at his laced hands. “I’m vanilla.”

“Pardon?”

“As vanilla as a old poof can be,” he confessed. “Little kissing and stroking, cocksucking. Up one arse or the other and that’s it.”

I leaned my chin on my fist. Like most leatherbars the Pit catered to the top/bottom and S&M scene. But it did have patrons with other tastes, including those who just liked leather or big guys in leather. Which was all well and good, but….

“If you aren’t into anything else, why were you standing against the wall?”

“Because I wanted to meet him,” he said, smiling at Charles.

My partner blinked as if he’d just been targeted.

I leaned back and grinned. “Seems you have a secret admirer, Charlie Boy.”

My slave flushed in that charming way of his, pink spots appearing on his alabaster cheeks.

“I noticed him at the bank the other day, followed him here hoping to introduce myself, then learned that I couldn’t have him without your permission. And,” Nigel added, “that I could only get that by standing against the wall. That wasn’t wrong, was it?”

This time I laughed out loud. I could see exactly how the foul up must have happened. A polite foreigner inquires after Charles. The bears out front inform him that he’ll have to get my permission. True, as Charles is my property and no one can use him without my say so. Nigel steps inside and chats with the boys, asking them about speaking to me. They mistake him for a bottom and tell him he’ll have to stand and wait his turn if he wants the Fancy Man.

Thus, Nigel ends up against the wall. Talk about crossed wiring.

“I know you two are into far more interesting scenes than anything my addled imagination can provide,” Nigel went on with resigned humor. “But if I could just watch…just watch once?”

“That would be up to Charles,” I said, still enjoying myself. My poor slave was blushing up to the roots of his hair now. “So what was it attracted you to him?”

“Besides the muscles you mean?” Nigel sighed. “The accent. Texas isn’t it? I love American accents.”

“I’m from Georgia,” Charles corrected him. He was looking a little panicked now.

“Even better!” Nigel enthused. “”Jezebel”, “Gone with the Wind”, “The Little Foxe”s….”

I was laughing my ass off. Charles kicked me under the table.

“Doc Holliday was from Georgia,” Nigel added happily.

“Like stories of the American West, do you?” I managed to catch my breath.

“Westerns,” Nigel amended, with not a hint of apology. “The myth, not the truth. The truth is too gritty, too messy. I like my cowboy movies pure and fictional.”

“Well,” I said, with a Texas twang. “Why didn’t you say so, buckaroo?”

#

I gazed over my cards and downed my second shot of whiskey. The Southern Gent across from me, I figured, had a pair. I had three ladies.

“Raise ya,” I tossed in a coin.

The Southern gent pushed up his Stetson and eyed me suspiciously. Not a bad bit of acting for a veterinarian. Especially given how nervous Charles had been.

Once the creative light had flicked on in my head, I’d sent Charles up to Jordon for a roll of quarters, a bottle of whiskey, and a deck of cards. Then I’d laid out the rules to Nigel, which were fairly simple: One, it was his fantasy, but I’d be directing. Two, once the scene was underway, it was underway until either he stopped it with a safeword, or I said we were finished.

End of rules.

Nigel, interested and apparently so enthralled by Charles’ accent that he was willing to take a risk, had readily agreed.

Grabbing my kit out of my Scion, we’d gone with Nigel in his car. Actually, I’d driven as the Brit was still learning how to navigate the city and the right hand side of the road. I’d stopped us at the playhouse where I sometimes work and borrowed cowboy hats and fake guns with holsters from the costume department.

“Come now, Bruce. You know there is no use. I have you. And I will have you. And you will not be free of me. Ever. I have learned from my mistakes with Jonathan. And I will not make them again.” he grinned at him fully.

Jim’s eyes wandered over his body again. He leaned to him once more. His lips caught a prominently hard nipple between them. Slowly he teased it attempting to draw the man in. seeing if he would allow his body the simple pleasure of it. Testing him. Teasing him. Tasting of him.

A hand came up resting in the center of his chest. It glided down the middle of his body at a leisurely pace. Memorizing every detail, the man relished the feel of him. The taste of him. He forced back a moan that threatened with his heightened pleasure in it. And soon he wanted more than just a nipple.

Utterly beguiled by this man, his hand moved further down. Over his abdomen. The trail of hair that began just under his navel. He followed it. Finally, he grasped him fully. Surrounding his moderate hardness in his hand and fingers, he now stroked him. Slowly. Leisurely.

Looking up into his face, he couldn’t help but admire his struggle to remain flaccid. But obviously, he had done something the man had liked. And now, he must know what it was.

“Tell me…” he stood keeping him in his hand for the moment. “…Do you like to be touched as I have touched you now?”

Bruce gave him a cold silent stare.

“Come now, Bruce. If we are to be lovers, I must know this. You must have liked it.” he knew he was tormenting the man’s mind with his questioning. And that was why he did. “You liked the feel of my lips and tongue on your body. And my hand as it moved so slowly. I can imagine, you must have held back such a guttural moan. I would have liked to have heard it rumble in your bowels.” the corners of his lips turned up lewdly into a new smile.

As he looked down into the man’s face he couldn’t help but desire his lips once more. Leaning down, he began again. First a kiss, then moving further down his body. He crouched coming eye to eye finally with his manhood. His tongue teased it slowly, meticulously. He felt it win over the fight of his mind, which amused him. And he continued to relish the fact.

Taking the head into his mouth, he swept his tongue around it. More he took in. slowly drawing back only to take in more with each time he dove down on his shaft.

All the while he watched Bruce. His eyes steadily on his face. The emotions that crossed it thrilled him as they did. He listened for the slightest sound he made. There finally presenting the one time he could not resist the moan that escaped him. And Jim’s eyes closed reveling in the moment. It rumbling deep inside Bruce’s body. Triumph. Ah…

He released him then. Grasping his hips, his face came closer to his abdomen. Bruce watched him wondering what he meant to do. His throbbing length twitched with the feel of his long hair falling down upon it as the man tilted his head.

Quickly, the side of the man’s head was horizontal to the ground. He stared at Bruce’s navel long. Then his mouth came open. Wide he opened it coming closer. His face became buried in his belly. Bruce felt his suck in his flesh, the teeth closing around it. Tighter. Harder. More. Bruce began to breathe wildly as pain began to course through him. But he didn’t stop.

Suddenly the man fell away. He scrambled looking around him with self preservation in his eyes. The two that stood at Bruce’s arms dropped to the ground. He felt the rope give suddenly dropping him face down onto the ground.

Bruce looked up from the dirt and leaves beneath him wondering who had been his savior. He didn’t wait to find out, grabbing up his clothes and shoes, he rushed the opposite way that Jim had fled. And he didn’t stop for a few minutes. Then he did, slipping his clothes back on. His shoes he put on then stood peering through the trees.

He thought he heard someone but wasn’t sure. And he didn’t want to get caught by that lunatic again. His belly still burned with the encroachment of his cruel bite. He rubbed it feeling a warm wetness, he hadn’t realized before. Looking down, he saw that he was bleeding.

He moaned very unpleasantly. That man had left teeth marks in his body. “Sick bastard.” He cursed to himself. Then someone caught him from behind. A hand firmly to his mouth, they pulled him deep into the thicket. Bruce fought him vehemently. The man bested him to the ground resting atop him. His face only inches from the dirt, Bruce wanted to scream at the fact that this was two times now that he had been taken.

“Quiet your struggle, my friend.” the man whispered, but Bruce knew right away it was Peter.

Ah, now this he could get use to. A little abrupt, but he could stand it once in a while. He almost laughed at the thought as someone when running past. Then Peter’s lips came closer to his ear. He silently shushed him while he watched the feet, ankles and half the calves of someone move by again.

Back and forth they were going. And Peter knew he was looking for Bruce. He saw the moment the man had spotted him, starting toward him. And he followed going around the thicket to grab him before the other did.

All the while, Bruce’s eye cut up at Peter’s face. He could feel everything about him compress against him body. His hair was draped around them like a shroud of a blanket. The upper body rippled between them as he moved with the motion of the flighty runner. His abdomen was so hard and felt so very tempting to Bruce. His hip cut into the small of his back a little. But his thighs, how strong and muscular. His manhood pressed against his bottom, he couldn’t help but squirm a little just to feel it more.

Peter glanced down for a moment. Their eyes met. His hand still firmly over his mouth, Bruce couldn’t speak. But maybe it was better that way. Instead, he shrugged, not knowing what else to do. Peter almost burst into laughter, but for the man that hung close by.

His attention went directly to him. Remaining there. He soon saw an imminent danger. As the man began to search the trees in the area. Peter moved back pulling at Bruce’s waistband. He moved with him, together receding further into the thicket as slowly and silently as they could.

When it rustled they jumped to their feet running fast. Peter turned lifting his weapon firing on the man. He dropped grabbing his leg whining terribly. Then Peter turned taking off after Bruce again.

*****

Tony backhanded Maurice. They both were becoming very exhausted. Both battered and bruised, they fought still. Blood streaked from Tony’s right eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth. It was swollen as well, bruised.

Maurice looked worse. But he was still enjoying Tony’s passion. His strong fight to maintain, and keep afoot. And he knew he would go on until he pounded him into the ground or couldn’t go on anymore. And that was what Maurice hoped for, the latter. Then he could put a bullet in his head and get him out of his misery. And the secret would remain just that. A secret.

As they fought, not paying any attention to their surroundings, Jim slipped up behind Jonathan. He stood watching the display of ego and pride before him. All that testosterone flying about, he was amused. But then he leaned his head down a bit, his body brushing against, Jonathan’s. The youth squealed, suddenly being pinned to the car.

Tony looked to him. With all that was in him he leapt onto the hood of the car sliding across to the far side. Jim grasped the youth’s throat in a hold Tony knew would crush his larynx. Holding him by the hair at the back of the head, he stepped back from Tony, who continued slowly toward him.

Releasing his hair, he reached behind him producing his hunting knife. It appeared as his arm went around his throat pressing the blade to Jonathan’s face. The man cocked his head silently demanding he not move another inch.

Tony stopped dead still. He waited to see what would happen next. All the while his mind buzzed trying to think of a way out of this. And a way that would save Jonathan from being harmed. He saw movement past him but didn’t divert his eyes to it, in case it might be Ben getting back up His mind forced him to remain on Mr. Bowman.

Ben stood precariously. Holding his side, he aimed at the back of his head. Looking he saw that Jonathan was almost the same height. He repositioned his aim minutely to the right, as Jonathan’s head was left of Mr. Bowman’s.

“Let the boy go.” he groaned softly.

Jonathan felt his uncle tense suddenly. And the bite of the blade to his jaw came right after.

“Jim…” Tony drew his attention to the cutting.

The man moaned at the fact that he had injured such a pretty face. And they all knew by that, he had no intention of hurting him in the first place. Not his face anyway.

“I said, let him go!” Ben demanded.

Jim chuckled. “Shot me, sir. I have what I came for.” the man continued to smile staring at Tony. Then out of the woods came Bruce and Peter. They raced to the scene quickly. Peter rested his arms on the roof of the car. His weapon trained on the man before him.

“Release the boy.” Peter grumbled.

“Well…” Jim smiled looking over at him. “…My loyal and faithful subject has finally returned from the grave. You escaped us in the hospital. We were wondering if maybe you had lost your way home. Ah, but now we see, you are no better than these two. I understand everything now.”

“Do you?” Peter proposed. “I think not.” he suddenly trained his weapon on Maurice who moved in the corner of his eye. “Stay, doggie.” he ordered.

Tony laughed. Ben tossed him his weapon which Tony had dropped when he pulled Jonathan out of the car. Lifting his arm, the weapon trained on Maurice he stared at Mr. Bowman. “Hmm. Very pesky ain’t we?” he wagged his head at the last.

He tensed when he saw Maurice move. His attention turned to him completely. “Move, Maurice! I swear, I’m itchin’, man. Please, move. Just twitch.”

Maurice was glued to the spot he stood in not daring to give Tony the satisfaction.

“Jonathan, open the door.” Jim spoke low to him. Jonathan looked at Tony for some kind of answer as to what to do.

“Open the door, Jonathan.” he demanded louder.

Tony looked to his right locking stares with the youth. That was when Maurice took his chance. Tony and Peter began to fire.

Meanwhile, Bowman attempted to move. Ben rushed on him burying the barrel of his weapon into the back of his head. Peter halted his firing on Maurice to suddenly train on Jim. He wanted so much to drop him, but feared for the youth’s life and his aim.

Tony stopped when the Maurice was on the ground. Pulling the clip out, he only had one shot left. “Hmm…” he gave a humorous grimace. “The one with your name on it.” he lifted the arm aiming again. “Twitch.” he barely was audible.

“You really think that I believe you would try with Jonathan so close? What if you hit him, and not me?”

“I’ll take that chance.” Tony informed him seriously.

“Tony!” Bruce barked.

Peter held up a hand to silence Bruce. He knew that Tony was now playing a deadly game with the man. His poker face on, he now awaited Jim’s move. Would he concede? Or would he make his stand?

“You have three of us trained on you. One of us will hit you. And you just may die, sir.” Tony now threw the emphasis of the word, ’sir’ back at the man.

“Hmm. Santini, you were good at one time. I would have loved you more than Maurice. But now, I think our legacy is ended.”

“Oh, it ended a long time ago for me, Jim. Thank god, I saw the light before it was too late.”

“Tony, what are you talking about?” Bruce asked now.

“Well, since all the secrets are coming out now, I guess we all should know. Jonathan, you think about it, babe. You knew you remembered me. And yes, that was me in the truck that day. I was the neighbor that squealed to the cops about you. And I had had enough of what was going on. But you see, Mr. Bowman, here… must have figured it out early. I had to run for my life and cover you from outside the ring.

“He almost drew me in. I almost let him. But I missed the party that night, as did Peter…”

“Yes, we did, my friend. And if we had been there, all of these rats would be out of the way… enjoying the remainder of their existence behind bars, where they belonged. But, Mr. Bowman sent us away to do a mission that did not exist. And we returned much too late to see the things done to you. It would never have happened. And James Bowman knew this, did you not?”

“Well, let’s just say, I suspected it. Especially, with Tony. You, I was not sure of. But he, I knew was undercover. Yes, I tried to pull you in you idiot. Did you think I didn’t want you on my side, knowing you were a cop? I am not stupid, my friend. And I felt you knew way too much to leave alive.”

“The fact is, I didn’t have enough to go on.” Tony admitted. “And it pissed me off that you set me up overseas.”

“Ah, Tony…” Jim feigned sympathy. “I only wanted you to see how good my love could be for you. You enjoy pain so much. You and I could have been such close lovers. And I would have been so happy to oblige you.” his expressions were too faked, but Tony knew he was serious.

“Jim, I don’t need you. I never needed you. I think we discussed this. Yes, I may be into pain, but I am also not a moron.” he emphasized the last. Then he sighed long, rolling his eyes. “You wanna give it up now? Or are we gonna be here all night like this?” he motioned to the west where the sun was sinking fast now.

Jonathan’s eyes cut over to Peter as Tony and Jim talked still. He stared long at his friend who smiled at him. Then he made a motion with his head. It was a very subtle one. And Jonathan, at first, did not understand.

Jim leaned his head down to his ear. His grip tightened somewhat on his throat. They watched Jonathan nod, knowing he was making demands in his ear. Jonathan’s eyes locked with Tony’s again. His lips parted showing his teeth. He labored at breathing now. And his eyes pleaded with Tony to help him.

“Shut up, Jim!” Tony growled finally. “Just shut the fuck up! I’m so tired of your bossing him around. He ain’t yer whore anymore. Matter of fact, he never really was.”

“What do you mean, Tony Santini?” Jim’s head popped up suddenly, a strong look of consternation on his face. “Tell me, now!”

“Well, it seems that Maurice, there… was makin’ ‘im put out to him…secretly.” Tony informed him.

“No! Tell me this is not so, Jonathan!”

Jonathan shrugged. “I thought you knew, Uncle Jim. And I was told that you said it was okay.”

“That was not true, Jonathan. No one was to touch you without my permission. You were mine!”

“Oh, I’m not anymore? Then kindly turn me loose, Mr. Bowman.” Jonathan proposed.

“Shut up! Be quiet! Your mouth, Jonathan!” he shook his head angrily, and then grinned.

Jonathan took the chance suddenly to buck against his strong hold. He had distracted him, now he would elude him, if possible. The hand about his throat loosened. Jonathan’s hand came up. He lunged for the dirt, rolling under the car toward Peter.

Tony side stepped toward the man quickly, coming up to him, but remaining out of arms length, he had seen him in action with that knife, and did not trust him at all. Behind him, Ben remained trained where he was.

Peter leaned down helping Jonathan out from under the car. He motioned for him to remain low. Jonathan sat on the ground seeing the flash, as Peter had begun to stand straight, then attempted to duck again. He heard the fire of both weapons, Tony’s and Ben’s. Then came the thud of a body dropping to the ground. His eyes widened suddenly as his uncle’s knife now jutted from Peter’s throat.

Peter stood gasping for air he fell to his knees hard hating that Jonathan had to see this. Their eyes lock and he noted the horror on his face. He was white as a ghost. His hands pressed over his mouth. Tears gushing from his eyes. He shook his head slightly. Negatively. His body tilted sideways. A hand came out to stop or break his fall.

Tony and Ben joined Bruce resting him on the ground gently.

“I need a pen!” Tony shouted, making a slit in the man’s trachea as quickly as possible.

Ben groped in his pockets usually carrying one. He lunged for the car seeing Jonathan was petrified in his place leaning on the passenger door. Racing around he lunged into the driver’s side finding one quickly. Returning with it, he gave it to Tony, who stripped it plugging it into the hole.

The hollowed sounds of the man’s breathing through the tube were then heard. Jonathan leaned speechless, as blackness swirled around him. So much blood. So, little of it to loose. Peter…

Jonathan let his head drop back again. He whined shortly with one of his exhales that he had held in for a second or two.

“More, Jonathan?”

“Yes…” The youth groaned low.

He squeezed minutely harder. “More?”

“Please…” He whined again.

Tony let it go, but leaned toward the nipple catching it between his lips. Allowing his tongue to travel around it, he moistened it then drew back a bit to lightly blow on it. Watching, it suddenly hardened more, seeming to become solidly rigid.

Right away, he clamped down on it with his teeth. In the same instant, his hands grasped both sides the fingers biting into his flesh strongly. He jerked the youth toward him so he could relax to do this. But at the same time, it stretched the youth’s body allowing for more sensation.

Looking up he saw and heard Jonathan gasp. He choked back a yelp that would have awakened Bruce. Audibly, he respired, his chest lifting toward Tony suddenly, and then falling a second or two after. And with each exhale came a perceptible short whine.

Jonathan fought to remain quiet as Tony slowly applied even more pressure to his nipple. The mounting pain he had long begun to feel greatly added to his rising demise. If the man didn’t stop soon, he would be spilling his guts all over them in orgasmic release.

“Tony, you’re gonna make me come…” He wheezed suddenly, knowing the man wasn’t ready for that just yet.

“Hmm.” The man gave a hard tug on the nipple before he released it completely.

Jonathan gasped again. His member twitched suddenly and he grunted as he forced it to hold back. “Don’t touch me.” He strained to say instantly.

Tony released him completely, folding his arms across his chest. Jonathan didn’t move for a long moment as his aching need began to slowly subside. He was throbbing so terribly he was almost tempted to just be done with it. That would feel so good to him. But it would also end Tony’s little adventure with him.

And the man watched as Jonathan came short of panting while he strained to control his body. A smile lifted the corners of his lips. He was so enjoying this. It was just about to drive him insane as he observed the effect he had had on him.

But he also was controlling himself. He didn’t want Jonathan to know just how much this was arousing him at the moment. Though, he knew the youth could feel it, he suspected the distractions he had been delivering were keeping him from realizing the fact.

Slowly Jonathan began to relax. Tony looked down to see he was starting to calm and was just about ready to begin again. He still waited until the still hard flesh of him had only just begun to grow slightly flaccid, then he placed his hand on his thighs just above his knees.

“Very good, Jonathan. I like the fact that you want to make this little experience a most exciting one for me. But of course, I also know that you are just as aroused by it as I am, if not more.” His hands slowly traveled toward his body over the top of the thighs. When they reached their goal, they moved to the outside gliding back toward the knees.

His touch was patient. Transcendently slow. The hand and fingers barely touching him. It sent shivers through Jonathan at every turn.

The man leaned forward planting kisses here and there over his chest. His lips lightly brushed a nipple only to trap it between them again. But this time he slowly teased it with so much gentleness. The tip of the tongue sneaked out lightly grazing the apex for a moment. And his breath heightened the stimulation as it was warm but cooled quickly.

“I want you, Jonathan.” the man whispered finally while the hands started a new trek up the inner thighs now. “I want to bury my cock in you so deep you almost choke on it.” He described to the youth with so much expression. “You’d like me to fuck you, wouldn’t you?” The emphasis he was using was almost forceful.

“Yes, Tony…” Jonathan was breathing erratically again at his verbal taunting.

“Hmm. Yes, you would like that. I could push into you so slowly. Pull out and ram into you suddenly. I’ll torture you like that, until you can’t stand it anymore. Then I’ll stop and make you wait until I’m ready for you to come. And I’ll just start all over again.” He chuckled.

Jonathan’s was riddled with stimulation now. The combination of his light kisses, his hands moving torturously slow over the tender flesh of his inner thighs, and the meaning of his descriptions was forcing him to a higher plane of erotic sensation.

“Or maybe I’ll just fuck you hard and fast, like the other night.” Tony was saying, now.

Jonathan whined as those memories came flooding into his mind suddenly. That night was so highly arousing to him he had loved every minute of it. And Tony had been all he had hoped he would be. Forceful. Menacing. Coarse. Deliberate. Yet, he was aware of himself and his strength, not hurting him so that he injured him at all.

“You love it didn’tchya?” the man chuckled at his response.

“Oh yes, Tony.” Jonathan moaned.

The hands finally reached his body. He sucked air as a hand traveled up his lower abdomen, while the other grasped his maleness. The tug he gave caused him to tense, arching hard toward the man.

“No, no, Jonathan. Don’t you dare…” The man warned.

Jonathan’s head came up. He grunted again as his chin met his chest. Tony released him suddenly, folding his arms over his chest once more.

“You are so highly aroused, Jonathan. Maybe I should wait until you grow completely limp this time.” Tony proposed.

“Maybe so…” the youth strained to say. He breathed, concentrating on holding back for the man.

“Do you know where the jar of Vaseline is?” Tony asked.

“Sure…” The youth answered, his voice still labored.

“When I let you go, why don’t you get it for me.” The man requested but didn’t move at the moment. He knew if he did, Jonathan would lose his battle of the moment with his body.

“Okay…” And Jonathan knew that this would divert his attention to something else. It would be helpful in causing him to calm even more.

Finally, Tony unlocked only one of his hands from its cuff. Jonathan moved right away disappearing into the back. Quickly, he returned with the large jar. He handed it to Tony then waited for his next command.

“Let me undress first. I want to feel all of you.” The man turned in the seat. The younger man sat on the passenger seat watching as Tony disrobed before him. He then followed him with his eyes as he sat again in the driver’s seat.

“Come on…” Tony reached a lazy hand to him, guiding him the way he wanted him. And now, Jonathan stood facing the windshield.

The man’s hand slowly moved up his spine. Grasping his neck he leaned him over the wheel. Gently. The hair that hung down Jonathan’s back he moved over a shoulder to get a clear view of his body. Reaching, he enclosed his wrist in the cuff that locked him to the wheel once more.

Jonathan rested completely on the wheel. Waiting. Anticipating Tony’s next move. His legs spread; he offered the man a perfect view of him, which he knew Tony was eying at the moment.

And he was. The man’s hands finally came up cupping the backs of his thighs. They moved upward slowly while his eyes remained on their goal. The hands met with his cheeks, gently spreading them open. With a thumb he teased his opening in light circular motions.

Jonathan’s head came up and he gasped at his first touch of his thighs. He began to tremble right away as they moved up the backs finding their goal. The teasing of it made him moan to the man so softly. He rested his head back on an arm waiting again. Slowly he pushed back against his touch receiving the intrusion willingly.

His breathing elevated instantly. Feeling Tony oblige him by pushing the thumb deeper into him, he moaned his approval again.

“More, Tony…” He breathed to the man.

The thumb came out and a finger slipped in, now. Slowly it invaded him until it could go no further. But the man then pushed more until the bud almost surrounded his last knuckle. He turned it then, forcing it to stretch him suddenly.

Jonathan gasped, bolting upward abruptly. A coarse hand, now met his back coercing him back to the wheel easily. The young man began to slowly move against the finger now, becoming quiet with what Tony was doing.

He allowed him this for a moment, then pulled the finger back thrusting it forward strongly. Jonathan almost yelped again. But quelled it before it slipped out.

“More, Tony…” His delivery was low, but strong and labored.

“Boy, you’d better not…” The man warned. “…If I need to stop, you’d better tell me.”

“No please, Tony. Don’t stop now.” The youth groaned back to him, straining to keep his voice down.

“You come, and I swear I’ll spank that ass so hard.” The man warned.

“I won’t, I swear, I won’t.” Jonathan proposed.

Tony drew the finger back adding a second one. He shoved it in after getting them past the folds of his opening. It brought a chuckle to watch Jonathan fight to keep quiet and yet enjoy the pleasures he was affording him. His responses were far more than he had imagined them to be.

He watched Jonathan’s hips ride back onto his fingers so deliberately. Willfully. Wanting to be filled with more than just his fingers, he knew this. And it was his intention to make that so profound for him at the moment. He wanted him to desire it. Needed it. Wanted it more than anything. Craving it. Almost tasting it.

And the sight of his fingers disappearing into him, reappearing again, made him want to drive his manhood so deep into the young man. He was beginning to hunger for it. Wanting to feel him surrounding him in the warmth and darkness of his body. Thrusting into him powerfully, only to stop then ease out so very slowly.

A chuckle escaped him as he tormented his own mind with such thoughts and mental pictures. He drew the fingers back ramming them into the youth again watching him bolt. This time he saw Jonathan biting his lower lip to keep quiet.

“Come on, Tony. More…” The youth demanded now.

Tony pulled them back slowly, shoving them in again. This time Jonathan was ready and pushed back hard onto them. Tony exhaled suddenly. This was exciting him more than he expected. Removing the fingers he reached for the jar. After a moment, he reached up to the paper towels that hung overhead from above.

Then he stood putting a knee on the seat. “You need to let me put my foot where yours is.” He informed the young man.

Jonathan moved almost closing his legs then. Tony straddled the seat aiming his flesh where he wanted it. Slowly he pushed in. “Open your legs as far as you can.” He instructed.

Jonathan spread them, meeting the door with one foot and the console that met the floor with the other.

Once his thick bulbous head was past the folds of his opening, he reached grasping the top of wheel feeling the chain of the cuffs beneath them. He then pushed into him as far as he could. Coming down over Jonathan, he rested there for a moment.

“You just wait, Jonathan…” He seemed almost breathless to the youth. “…I’m gonna make you squirm.” He chuckled then. “…You’ll beg me to let you come.”

With that, he pulled back so slowly. Jonathan anticipated that he would ram him once he was almost completely backed out of him. But he didn’t, to his surprise. Instead, he moved back in with the same rhythm as he had evacuated.

Again, Tony drew back torturously slow. With the identical pace, he reentered him again. Another inert reversal and Jonathan was beginning to breathe heavily.

“Yes, Jonathan. Tormenting ain’t it?” He laughed lightly.

“Please, Tony…” He begged.

“Oh, no…” The man stopped the movements of his hips by grasping them firmly. “…You just lie there and let me do what I want, damn it.” The man growled.

Now the youth could see the need for the handcuffs. He wanted so much to be free of the wheel, turn and fuck himself on the man’s flesh. It was such a strong emotion that he felt. Call it a need or craving, if you desire. He felt that. One that was adding to his excitement, arousal and the pleasure that was so torturous for him now.

Tony continued his slow ministrations for a few more passes. He gripped the wheel again painstakingly slowing down even more.

“God, Tony…” Jonathan would have never known such a thing would provoke him so. “Please, fuck me.” He begged now.

Tony chuckled leaning his cheek on the side of the young man’s head. “You mean like this?” He shoved into him suddenly, strongly keeping his body pinned to the wheel at the same time.

“Oh god, Tony…” He wheezed suddenly attempting to come up off the wheel, but found himself trapped there.

And Tony loved the feel of his sudden bolt. It was almost a struggle between them that he held at bay. That was even more stimulating to the man. The feel of his fight however different it was.

The man backed out slowly again. “Yer lovin’ this. I can tell.” The man teased.

“I think yer lovin’ it more.” Jonathan’s breath was obviously labored now.

“Yes, more than you know.” He admitted but didn’t tell him why. He rammed into him again. Powerfully strong.

“God, Tony…” Jonathan pushed back onto him again as the man withdrew like so many times before. “…I can’t…” He attempted to get more, but it just wasn’t the same. “…Please, Tony…fuck me, damn it.” He said the last stronger than he had meant to.

“Shhh…” the man scolded instantly. “…Please don’t wake up Bruce just yet. I want more from this with you. Just a little longer, kid.”

Jonathan nodded, resting his head on his arm again. He couldn’t help but feel so important to Tony suddenly. That this was something special to the man between them was a bit much for him emotionally.

They felt the truck buck slightly, as Bruce probably turned over. Each of them held their breath hoping he wasn’t getting up. After a long moment they resumed their excursion.

As they did, Bruce lay in the back listening. He smiled as Jonathan gasped suddenly expressing to Tony that he wanted more. And his friend only chuckled, telling Jonathan to just wait, damn it. He almost wanted to laugh about it. And his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Slowly he moved out of bed going to the portable toilet. Relieving himself he put the lid down parking on it. With a finger, he opened the curtain enough to see that Tony had Jonathan bent over the wheel. “Now why hadn’t I thought of that?” He almost laughed. But as he looked closer, he realized that Jonathan was cuffed to his steering wheel.

“Hmm.” He thought to himself. “Now that looks like a tease if I ever saw one. I wonder if he’d let me borrow those? God, I hope he didn’t forget his keys.”

Tony pulled back again. Slowly. His tenacity at the pace he had set for the moment was making Jonathan squirm beneath him. And the man was enjoying it to the fullest. Just the feel of his body moving around, heightened his stimulation so that he had to stop for a moment.

“Be still, kid.” He breathed huskily into his ear.

“What, the pressure getting’ to ya?” The youth jested.

“Watch it kid. Yer in a bad spot to be antagonizing me.” The man warned.

“Oh, yeah. I am ain’t I.” The young man was sarcastic. “You know whatever you dish out, I can take it.”

“Yeah, but I can make it very uncomfortable for ya, too.”

“Ooh, threats…” The youth giggled softly. He rested his head on the wheel once more.

After a few minutes, Tony began again. He tormented Jonathan with his slow entry and withdrawal. Shoving into him unexpectedly, he made Jonathan begin to squirm again.

“Fuck me, Tony…” The youth growled at him finally.

“Yes, fuck ‘im, Tony.” Bruce whispered so very softly from behind the curtain as he watched. His free hand had his member in its grasp stroking the hardened length of it. And the idea struck him that when Tony was finished that he could be next. He had always wondered if it could be done that way. Now he knew. And he wanted to go at it with the kid.

He watched as Tony’s strong length began a smooth even stride. Thrust after thrust he watched it appear, then bury itself deep into Jonathan. Wave after wave of sensation came over him here and there. He loved to watch Tony work. He was an artful lover to say the least.

But to watch him with Jonathan was even more arousing to him. The young man was such a good sport even though he might want more than what was being given at the moment. Tony was obviously controlling his desire to ram him hard and fast. He was trembling from it. And Bruce knew it right away. He just knew Tony all too well, to be honest.

“More, Tony…” The young man groaned.

Tony obliged thrusting a little harder now. He pushed into him groaning here and there as the pressure mounted in him. And Jonathan pushed back onto him, meeting his strides with his own. They pulled and pushed on the steering wheel until Bruce thought they might break the telescope mechanism. But they didn’t thankfully.

Jonathan was beginning to come up a bit off the wheel. He shoved his body back against Tony meeting him with a slap each time. His panting had long begun and Bruce knew he was about to explode soon. Especially when Tony grasped his length in his hand beginning to stroke him.

“Tony…” The young man whined. “…More…” He pleaded yet again.

Suddenly, with his free hand, Tony shoved Jonathan down against the wheel. He plunged into him with a strength that caused the youth to almost squeal.

“Yes, Tony!” Jonathan cried out then.

“There it is…” Tony called back as the first of Jonathan’s spasms began. “Yes, baby. Give it to me.” He leaned over him spewing into him as soon as it started.

Bruce was beside himself then. The two of them together was just more than he had known it would be. And watching them in the throes of such pleasure overcame him just as quickly. He suddenly released himself still wanting to have Jonathan at the wheel. Strongly he struggled to maintain as he continued to watch the two of them coming together. And Jonathan was squirting all over his floor. But that could be cleaned up, he told himself.

And finally they were calming. Tony rested atop Jonathan for a moment before he pulled out moving away from the wheel. He picked up his pants, pulling out the keys. Bruce stood, stepping out from behind the curtain.

“Don’t let ‘im go, just yet.” The man grinned wryly. “I think I’d like a go at ‘im.” He removed his boxer briefs straddling his seat. Leaning over Jonathan’s naked body, he came close to his ear. “You look so luscious in this position, cuffed to my wheel. Are you game for a little more? Or are you too tired to go on?”

“Oh no…” Jonathan giggled. “…Stick it to me.”

Bruce laughed. “Lascivious little man, ain’tchya?”

“You bet, man.” Jonathan tried to look up at him, only to find he was trapped there again.

Bruce eased into him slowly, so hard and throbbing, he didn’t think he would last too long. He sighed as he slipped in so easily. And the warmth of him was deliciously tempting, to say the least. He felt Jonathan contract around him to give him more sensation.

“Oh yes, Jonathan…” The man groaned aloud. “That feels very good.” He commented emphatically on his breath. His lips grazed his ear as he spoke.

“You gonna play with me too? Or you gonna get right down to business?” Jonathan teased.

“Oh, I don’t know. I may do a little of both.” The man quipped with a smile.

“You gonna fuck me, fuck me. Don’t play with it. I don’t know if I can handle anymore o’ that.”

“Oh, now ain’t you being a little bold now? Especially, when you can’t do a damn thing about it if I do.” The man retorted playfully. He laughed a little then. It was a very wicked laugh that told Jonathan he should have just kept his mouth shut.

Slowly he pulled back as he had seen Tony do. His friend laughed about it.