by Marie Sexton
* * * *
He was midway through what could arguably have been called the most frustrating shift of his life when Max elbowed him in the ribs.
"What the fuck's your problem?" Levi snapped.
Max nodded his head toward the end of the bar. A man stood there, his eyes issuing Levi a blatant invitation. He wore black leather pants and biker boots. A leather harness made an X across his broad, bare chest.
"His name's Jory," Max said.
"I don't care."
"I know. He's a hell of a bottom."
"I don't care about that either."
Max looked at him in surprise. "Since when?"
Levi slammed the register shut so hard it shook the bar, knocking the tip jar over.
"Damn, Levi," Max said as he righted it. "You're wound up so fucking tight right now, you're making me nervous. You need to get laid."
"You're full of shit." But he knew as he said it that he didn't sound very convincing. The truth was, he couldn't remember being so sexually frustrated since his days at BYU trying to be straight. "I'm fine." His words were little more than a growl.
"Yeah, so fine you bite the head off anyone who comes within three feet of you."
Levi sighed in frustration, but couldn't think of what he should say. He looked again at the guy in the harness. Jory leaned against the wall. His eyes were dark and sultry. He rubbed his hand over the bulge in his leather pants, and Levi almost moaned aloud. He turned away.
"What the hell you waiting for, Levi?" Max asked.
"I just don't want to. That's all."
"What do you mean, you don't want to? Since when do you not want to get your wick wet? You sick or something?"
Levi bit back his annoyance. "He's not my type."
"Your type? Let's see. He's male. Between the ages of legal and fifty. Has a pulse. He's a bottom." Max ticked his points off on his fingers. "Oh, yeah--and he's practically beggin' you to fuck him. How the hell is he not your type?"
"Jesus, Max, why the fuck do you care?"
"'Cause you're being a surly, fucking asshole, Levi!" Max snapped. "You need to come so bad, I can practically smell it. You're driving me fucking nuts, man."
Just the thought of being able to come with somebody else again made his knees weak and his hands shake. Levi felt his resolve slipping. Max was right--he did need it. The ache in his balls had reached an all-new level of discomfort. He didn't know why he was trying to deny it.
Max seemed to sense he was waffling because he said, "I've been with him before. He's flexible. Put him on his back, you can push his legs up by his ears if you want."
That mental image, and the accompanying flush of arousal, were undeniable. The man in question was hot. He crooked his finger at Levi.
"I don't know what the fuck you're trying to prove," Max said. "You seriously trying to tell me you don't want to nail that?"
In the blink of an eye, Levi knew he was right. He fell away from whatever he'd been trying to be, and there in front of him was who he was: the Levi who fucked a different guy in the back room every week. Every night if he could. The Levi who never looked back. This was what he did. Despite everything his sister and his mother and his father wanted of him. Or maybe because of what they wanted.
Like Max was reading his mind, he said suddenly, "It's who you are, man. It's who you've been as long as I've known you. Quit fighting it. Go bend that bitch in half and fuck him 'til he can't stand anymore." He elbowed Levi in the ribs. "He'll thank you for it when you're done, I promise."
Levi did want it. Everything from the last few weeks hit him--lying on the couch night after night wanting Jaime but not having him, jacking off in his bathroom like a goddamn teenager again. His sister and his mother and his father and his brothers all telling him what he should do with his life. And what he shouldn't. And now Max, egging him on. He was filled with a frightening dark hostility that was equal parts frustration and rage and lust. He'd been trying to hold it down, trying to keep it in check. It was a blackness--not evil, but something dark and erotic and purely primal. It welled up in him. It made his skin tingle and his pulse race. It made his cock hard. His vision narrowed to a single point: a man in a leather harness with a wicked glint in his eye.
Jory was watching him and a slow grin spread across his face. He turned and headed for the back room. And Levi followed.
The guy was prepared. His leather pants had snaps down the side, and once the door to the storage room was locked, he pulled them off, leaving only the leather harness, leather boots, and a very erect cock. Levi felt the blackness filling him, practically blocking his vision as his blood roared in his veins and his cock strained against his pants. Jory could see the blackness, too. Levi could tell. Not only that, but he liked it. His eyes drifted halfway closed and he fell to his knees.
"Do anything you want," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "I'm ready for you."
Levi didn't hesitate. He undid his pants as he stepped closer. Jory opened his mouth, and Levi shoved his aching cock into that wet, warm abyss. He went slowly, pushing in deep, savoring the feel of Jory's mouth as it slid up his length, until Jory's nose was buried deep in his pubic hair. It was so good to finally feel it. After denying himself for so long without even knowing why, the pleasure of pushing himself deep into Jory's mouth was unbelievably gratifying. He pulled out and thrust in again, faster. Why had he ever tried to say no? He wanted to fuck Jory. He wanted to fuck him hard. He needed to fuck him. He needed to make him beg and cry and squirm. The blackness filled him, pouring out of him, saturating him and Jory and the whole fucking room. And it wanted more.
He grabbed Jory's hair with both hands and fucked his mouth as hard as he could, but it wasn't enough. He leaned the back of Jory's head against the edge of the table so he couldn't pull away and he thrust as far as he could, wanting to fill Jory and choke him and make him swallow the blackness. Jory took it all, moaning in pleasure, his face flushed with desire. He beat his own cock with one hand and gripped Levi's ass with the other, guiding him in faster. His fingernails dug into the cheek of Levi's ass, scratching, and Levi heard himself cry out. It was a sudden, sweet pain, and it made him frantic.
He pulled away. He grabbed Jory's harness and yanked him to his feet, and he did as Max had suggested. He pushed him back on the table. He pushed his knees toward his ears and drove into him, with only Jory's saliva on his cock to ease the way. Jory was tight and hot and the lack of lubricant made it even better, and God, he didn't know when an ass had ever felt so fucking good. And yet it still wasn't enough. The blackness in him wanted more. He couldn't fuck hard enough or fast enough to satisfy the rage that filled him. Jory held his own knees up, and Levi grabbed onto his leather harness and slammed into him harder.
"Oh fuck, yes. More, more, more!" Jory yelled out.
And for the first time ever, Levi wished he had more. He wanted to beat Jory and hurt him and come on him and come in him. He wanted to pour all of his blackness into him and have him take it all and more. He wanted to fuck every part of him at once, drive into his tight ass, and deep into his throat, and come on his face. He wanted to push him down and use him. He wanted to abuse him. And then he wanted to do it again.
"Oh God, yes!" Jory cried, and he started to come without even a hand on his cock. His channel tightened around Levi's cock as he shot his load onto his stomach, and the blackness in Levi exploded. He came hard, slamming into Jory, trying to push deeper. Trying to find the satisfaction he longed for.
But it wasn't there.
"Holy shit, that was awesome," Jory said, collapsing back onto the table. "You're way better than Max."
Levi closed his eyes, fighting the rage, the disappointment and the self-loathing threatening to choke him. He hadn't even used a condom, something he'd never done before. He pulled away from Jory, covering his face, trying to find his center. Trying to remember this was okay. There was no reason to think it was wrong.
Except it was.
He p
ut his hands on his knees and bent over, fighting the sudden urge to be sick.
"You okay, man?" Jory asked, and Levi opened his eyes. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He made himself stand up. He forced himself to smile.
"Fine. Thanks." He started to do up his pants, although his shaking hands made it difficult. He had to get out--out of the back room and out of The Zone and out of his own damn head. "I have to go."
"I'll give you my number if you want it. No strings. You can call anytime you want to fuck me again--"
"Maybe later." Levi knew as he said the words how weak they sounded, but he didn't care. "I have to get back."
He didn't remember walking back to the bar. There was a roaring in his head, and the world spun around him like some kind of crazy carnival ride. The kind of ride that had always made him sick.
"Good, isn't he?" Max asked, but Levi barely heard him.
He worked the rest of his shift in a daze, oscillating between blinding rage and near crippling self-disgust. Max kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't try to talk to him the rest of the night. Levi was glad.
He left an hour before his shift was over. He didn't care if he got in trouble. He didn't care if he got fired.
He rode his bike home, driving like a mad man. He knew he was driving too fast, taking too many risks, but he didn't care. He could only think about one thing: getting his board and losing himself in the ocean. He almost hoped it would be for good.
Chapter 19
Jaime woke to cursing and the sound of drawers slamming shut. That meant Levi was home, which meant it was time for Jaime to get up so Levi could have his bed. Otherwise, he'd sleep on the couch, and Jaime hated to make him do that.
Another drawer slammed, and Jaime opened his eyes. Levi was standing in front of his dresser wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He was digging in a drawer for something. He'd obviously showered, which was a bit unusual--usually sleeping was his first priority after his shift at the bar.
Jaime checked his watch and was surprised to see it wasn't even five o'clock yet. "You're home early," he said.
Levi froze, but didn't turn around. "I know."
"You can have the bed," Jaime said. "I'm getting up."
"Don't bother," Levi said, sounding annoyed. "I'm going surfing."
"In the dark?"
"Yes."
"Don't you want to sleep first?"
"Obviously not," Levi said.
Jaime sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to wake up. Dolly wiggled against his side, sniffing at his ear and wagging her tail. Levi was still digging through drawers.
"Are you looking for your swim trunks?"
Levi froze again, but didn't answer.
"They're on the floor under the chair."
Levi turned without looking at him and crossed over to the chair. He picked up his trunks and, keeping his back to Jaime, dropped his towel to put them on. Jaime started to turn away, but then stopped. There were scratches across one side of Levi's ass. It took Jaime a second to figure out what they were, but then he felt himself blush. He was glad Levi had his back to him and couldn't see it.
"Looks like you had a good time last night," he said.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Levi snapped.
Jaime was surprised by the anger he heard in Levi's voice, but he said, "I mean whoever you were with left a mark."
"So what?"
"So, nothing. I was just--"
"You got a problem with it, Jaime?"
"No, I..." Jaime stumbled. He had no idea what was going on. He obviously wasn't awake enough for this conversation quite yet. "Is something wrong?"
Levi turned on him, and Jaime was taken aback by the fury he saw in Levi's eyes. "No, Jaime, nothing's wrong. I fucked some guy's face so hard he left handprints on my ass. Is that okay with you?"
Jaime felt his cheeks turning bright red. His heart started to race. He hated Levi to be mad at him. "No. I mean, of course! Yes. I mean--"
"I still have sex, Jaime! All right? I still fuck other guys every chance I get. I know you think maybe I don't, but I do. And it's none of your goddamn business anyway, is it?"
"I never said it was--"
"You want to tell me how I'm not supposed to or how it's a sin?"
"No, Levi. I only meant--"
"I have a life, too, you know! And when I have a chance to get laid, I take it. That's how I am, Jaime. That's how I've always been, and you don't get to say anything about it."
Jaime felt like he'd been slapped. Or punched in the gut. He was trying to keep up, trying to figure out what Levi was saying, trying to figure what he'd done to make Levi so mad. Of course Levi still had sex. Jaime had never thought otherwise. What he couldn't figure out was why Levi was suddenly yelling at him about it.
Levi was still glaring at him, waiting for an answer. Jaime didn't have one, but it was clear he'd worn out his welcome here at Levi's house.
In Levi's bed.
That was when he realized what was going on. How could he have been such a fool?
"Shit, Levi, I'm sorry," he said, getting up. His clothes were folded and stacked on the floor by the side of the bed. He picked up his pants and started putting them on. His face was burning, and he couldn't even look at Levi. "I guess I thought you were only with guys at the club. I didn't realize..."
He buttoned his pants, and picked up his shirt. "Well, I mean, I guess it was stupid of me to think you didn't ever bring any guys home, and I should've realized. I didn't mean to cramp your style or anything. I really didn't mean..."
He knew he was babbling like an idiot, stuttering over words. He was so embarrassed to have not realized Levi might want to bring somebody back to his apartment. Back to his bed. And here Jaime was, sleeping in that bed and not even making it worth Levi's time. His reading glasses were on the bedside table. He picked them up and put them in his shirt pocket. He pulled his shoes on, then picked up his keys and found the one to Levi's apartment. He started to take it off the ring.
"Jaime, wait," Levi said. He didn't sound angry any more. He sounded beaten.
Jaime was still too embarrassed to face him, though. He didn't want to guilt Levi into taking it back.
"It's okay, Levi. I mean, I should've realized, right?" He put the key down on the bedside table and made himself look at Levi.
Levi looked completely deflated. All the anger that had been directed at Jaime only moments before was gone, and Jaime was relieved. It meant he was right. Levi had wanted to bring somebody home, and couldn't because of Jaime. And he had snapped, understandably. After all, how long could a grown man expect to share his bed with somebody like Jaime? Levi had obviously expected him to fight back, but how could he? Levi was right. The fact that Levi didn't seem to be mad anymore meant Jaime's apology had worked. It meant everything would be okay between them again. Yes, he'd have to learn to sleep at home in his own bed again. But for crying out loud, he was twenty-six years old. It was about time he did that anyway, right? Levi had already done more than he ever expected.
"Thank you for letting me stay so long. I really appreciate it."
"Jaime--"
"It's okay, Levi. Really. I'll see you for your appointment tomorrow, okay?"
He turned to Dolly and patted his leg, and she followed obediently behind him, out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the door.
* * * *
Jaime hoped things wouldn't be awkward between them the next day at Levi's appointment, but he could tell as soon as he let Levi in his door his hope had been in vain. Levi was red-cheeked with embarrassment and could barely meet his eyes.
"Jaime, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. You don't need to be sorry. I'm the one who should apologize for taking advantage of your hospitality."
"You don't understand--"
"I do, Levi," he said, making himself smile. "It's okay."
Levi slumped a bit, whether in de
feat or in relief Jaime didn't know.
"I'll go out while you get undressed." That made him think of watching Levi, and of the marks that would most certainly still be visible on his ass cheek, and he felt his face turning red. He hated the way he blushed so easily, especially in front of Levi. "Let's start face up today."
When he came back, Levi wouldn't look at him. He kept his gaze on the ceiling, and Jaime sighed. He had no idea how to make things right. He only knew how to do one thing. Luckily for him, that was the thing Levi was there for.
He put his hands under Levi's neck and pushed his fingers up into Levi's sub occipitals. "Start with three deep breaths."
"Jaime, I can't. Can I talk to you? Please?"
"You don't owe me anything, Levi. You certainly don't owe me an explanation or an apology." If anything, Jaime thought Levi had been incredibly patient with him, putting up with his childish terrors. "Just relax. Let your head hang heavy." He pushed on Levi's neck, kneading with his fingers until he felt Levi relax a bit. "Good. Now take three deep breaths."
Levi obeyed, and Jaime started to work, massaging his sternocleidomastoids and his scalenes. Levi was rarely so tense, and Jaime spent a long time on his neck, wanting to feel the muscles give way beneath his hands. He knew it was time to move on to Levi's arms, but something told him Levi needed this more. He started to rub Levi's scalp, working his fingers through Levi's dark hair, then rubbing his temples. He slid his fingers down Levi's sideburns to rub his jaw. He could tell Levi's teeth were clenched.
"Relax, Levi," he said quietly. "Quit fighting me."
Levi closed his eyes, sighing in frustration. "I can't." He put one hand up and gripped the fingers of Jaime's left hand. Jaime instinctively tried to pull away, but Levi held him until he stilled. Levi opened his eyes again and looked up at him. "Jaime, please, I need you to understand--"
