Placing Out

by P. J. Brown

  When the waiter returned, George kept his hands on the table and we didn't look at each other when we accepted our menus. When our drinks were set in front of us, I sipped and finally smiled at him again.

  "You spoil me. I never used to have such expensive tastes."

  "A boy like you deserves the best. Didn't I always tell you I'd make sure you got it?"

  As long as we were lovers, of course. I had no illusions. If he chose to end it, there would be no more champagne dinners and suites at the Biltmore.

  He ordered for both of us. The truth is, he had helped me acquire a more refined appetite and an appreciation of things I'd never heard of before. Like caviar and escargot. When he told me what they were I nearly got sick. Fish eggs and snails? That was disgusting. But he convinced me otherwise and now I enjoyed them.

  We didn't rush dinner, but we didn't linger at the table either. Everyone at the Biltmore was discreet. I guess they had to be, with the things some of their celebrity clients got into. I don't know if they knew what we were. If they did, no one ever showed they cared.

  We reached our room soon after nine. I headed for the shower immediately. He'd already laid out everything. From the beginning he had insisted I be as clean for him inside as out. Once I finished, I wrapped myself in the silk dragon robe he bought me soon after our affair became permanent. He was already under the covers. George loved my showing off, but he never did the same.

  I approached the bed slowly, one hand on the sash, the other inside, already stroking my hard prick. At a nod from him I loosened the tie and let the robe fall open. I went back to stroking myself, using my thumb to spread my pre-cum over the swelling head. Now the metal cock ring was visible. Another gift.

  George's hand was under the sheets, masturbating. His gaze was locked on mine. My robe fell off me when I stepped forward. Naked now, I stood beside the bed, my fully erect dick at eye level. Without taking his hand off his own prick, he reached over and gripped my balls. I shifted my stance to give him better access. He had always been entranced by my balls. It took me a while to realize mine were smaller than most men's. I had a good sized dick, close to six inches, but my balls were undersized.

  I closed my eyes at the sensation of his fingers delicately tugging me, slipping one finger up into my ass. I sighed when he pulled out. Opening my eyes, I found him watching me. His face was flushed. My heart galloped. Both of us eager for the night to come, but refusing to rush.

  He liked to watch me masturbate. Under his watchful eyes, I scooped up a few drops of pre-cum and massaged my nipples, feeling them tighten and swell under my touch. It was easy to let my mind wander down paths of pure pleasure, knowing he watched and grew more aroused. But as much as I wanted to shut my eyes and let go, I kept them open. George insisted. He wanted us both to see.

  I slid both hands down my rib cage, over my flat stomach, my muscles bunching and trembling in anticipation. My dick was so hard it almost touched my belly. I avoided it as I moved past to my upper thighs. With one hand, I cupped my own balls, tugging them roughly.

  George reached over and attached the thin metal chain to the cock ring. The chain split into a Y and I released my balls and attached the clamps to my nipples. Pain pierced me like a shot of electricity straight down to my prick. The pain quickly became pleasure and I bit back a groan. Another rule. I had to keep silent. At least until he let me know otherwise.

  Lastly, he wrapped my wrists in silk ties and I climbed onto the bed he had just vacated. I lay on my back, staring at the sculptured ceiling while he secured me to the headboard. Now I was spread-eagle, legs bent and open. George slid between them. His dick probed my asshole and I arched my hips for him. He rose above me, watching my face as he worked his thick prick inside me.

  Only when he was tight inside me did he start moving. I humped my hips up, urging him on, my breath coming in short gasps each time he rocked into me. His movements grew more frantic.

  I was losing control, but I wasn't allowed to just yet. Biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, I concentrated on staring into his eyes. Only when he closed his, battering me and moaning did I let go. I thrust up to get him in deeper and, with a final moan, he buried himself into my gut. I howled and climaxed all over my belly.

  He collapsed on top of me, almost immediately rolling off. He untied me and removed the cock ring from my flaccid dick. Finally, he pulled my damp body against his. I stroked his back.

  "Go clean up," he said. "I'll get us a bottle. Mumm's?"

  "Perfect." I took my time sauntering toward the luxurious bathroom, where I showered again and put on yet another robe. This one leopard patterned. He donned a matching robe and we moved to the living area of the suite at the same time as the bellhop delivered our champagne in a bucket of ice. We already had the champagne glasses.

  He filled two and we sat together on the gold trimmed settee, my legs curled up while I lay against him. We drank and laughed about the latest Hollywood gossip and the mess going on in Washington. I didn't think about the fact that this was only for a few short days.

  I took brief refuge in imagining, for a little while, that we were a forever couple. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the dream as the hours slipped away.

  * * * *

  Los Angeles, March 1, 1933

  There were no union heads to bust. Roach, knowing the boys were getting restless in their inactivity, scheduled another pansy club raid. This time it would be the Black Kat. Roach laid it out an hour before entry.

  "Get as many of them as you can. We got two wagons coming to pick them up, plus a couple of photographers and reporters from the Times gonna tag along. So look pretty, boys, we're gonna be famous."

  Six of them stormed the guarded entrance. Roach took down the doorman, unlike Peaches, a bruiser in a short sleeve shirt showing off mounds of muscles. They didn't do him any good against Roach's nightstick and sap. Head bloody, puking blood, he went down under the surreal flashing lights of two cameras and a half-dozen men swarming inside the club like an attack of sewer rats.

  Ben was in the middle. He swung his baton with the same vigor as the others, he just made sure most of them missed their mark. With blood everywhere, screams and cries of rage and fear, no one counted the number of times anyone's weapon hit flesh.

  The cops were as wild-eyed as the bleeding patrons by the time it was done. Under the frenzied flashes of the photographers and the clubs that kept coming down on bowed heads, it looked like a scene out of Bedlam.

  As covered in blood and vomit as the beaten pansies, Ben fought the urge to add his own vomit to the melee. Most of the other cops' eyes blazed with dark glee and they only put their clubs away when Roach barked an order and they herded the subdued deviants out into the night.

  Ben found himself next to one of them. Only this one wasn't the least bit broken. He stood straight and tall, meeting Ben's puzzled gaze with quiet strength. He barely came up to Ben's shoulder, but he stood him down as though daring him to start in again with his club. Under the blood from a cut above his left eye he still looked beautiful. Golden hair and skin, it was clear his clothes were expensive and he wore them with an air of familiarity. Almost feminine, there was nothing weak about his defiance. Some executive out slumming. Ben grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

  "You arresting me?"

  "What the fuck do you think?" Ben couldn't help it... he admired the guy's spunk. "You're breaking I don't know how many laws."

  "Doing what?" the golden boy snapped. "Standing around talking to people is illegal these days?"

  "It is when it's in a place like that."

  "Like what?"

  Ben didn't believe it. "A goddamn pansy bar, what else? Plus, it's engaging in the illegal sale of alcohol as prohibited by Section--"

  "Title II, Section 3, no person shall manufacture, sell, barter, transport... " The guy smiled at Ben's astonishment. "Don't think a queen can have a brain? Read?" He rattled his cuffs. "I wasn't doing anything in there except having a convers
ation with some friends."

  "You can tell that to the judge."

  "Maybe I'll see if I can get Judge Harris." He raised his chin and smiled. His teeth were perfect. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see me again. Even though his next appointment isn't until next week."

  "Who the hell are you?"

  "Dylan," he said. "Dylan Daniels. But the judge likes to call me his honeybear. Usually when I've got his dick down my throat. Hey, you think that reporter wants to talk to me?"

  Ben turned in horror to see the Times reporter bearing down on them. Without thinking Ben spun Daniels around and pushed him through the thinning mob of men being packed into the two waiting paddy wagons. Only when they broke free in the alley, leading to the Black Kat, did he slow.

  "You don't really know the judge, do you?" Ben didn't know the man, personally, but he did know Harris was running for a Senate seat and he was hated by the Times and loved by Hearst, who had a whole pro-Harris machine in motion. This was one piece of shit he did not want to step into.

  "Of course I do. We meet up once every couple of weeks. He has this cute little out-of-the-way motel we go to. For an old guy he's pretty athletic. He especially likes me sucking--"

  "God, shut up." Ben felt dizzy. The image of this beautiful man on his knees in front of him left him breathless. "Who the hell are you?"

  "I already told you."

  "That's not what I mean."

  "I know." Daniels leaned against a brick wall. They could still hear the occasional outburst from the mob they had left. A scream was cut short. "Tell me, copper. You ever feel bad about it? You think it's okay to beat some poor guy to a pulp because he has a different itch than you?"

  "It's illegal. If you didn't engage in this sort of thing, you'd never find yourself in jail like that bunch will be. Like you will be in about thirty seconds."

  "Drinking's illegal, too, but you and I both know half the clowns in city hall do it. I'll bet so do a lot of your boys. They probably cheat on their wives, too, and break a whole lot of the other ten commandments."

  "And that makes what you are okay?" Ben couldn't believe he was arguing with this guy. If he wasn't going to bust him, why wasn't he letting him go? Tell him to get his sorry ass out of here? God, he wasn't really physically drawn to this perfect golden boy, was he? This wasn't happening.

  Maybe Daniels caught some of Ben's tension. He cocked his head sideways, and even with the blood matted in his hair, he looked stunning. "And what exactly am I?" He stepped closer. "Do you really think it's so terrible?"

  "Yes. It's disgusting."

  "God, you are such a fucking liar. You really don't think I see through your bullshit?"

  Ben plowed his fist into Daniels's gut, watching in satisfaction when the younger man folded over. But instead of showing fear when he straightened, he jutted his chin out. "Pretty gutsy, beating on a guy who can't fight back. Especially when he's telling the truth."

  This time Ben caught his jaw. Daniels's head snapped sideways. He didn't speak, only wiped a trickle of blood off the corner of his mouth with his tongue. Ben towered over the smaller man, fists clenched. He vibrated with the need to slake his rage.

  "You should have told me you wanted to kiss," Daniels said.

  "Nothing you say is true." Even to him the words sounded weak. "You disgust me."

  Daniels must have thought so, too. He said softly, "You want to beat me to death, or you want to fuck me? Me, I kind of like the latter."

  Ben jerked away from him. He raised his fist, aching to wipe the smug, knowing look off the boy's face. Daniels still wouldn't back down.

  "Who are you?" he whispered. A new commotion at the mouth of the alley told him they'd have company soon.

  "Your worst enemy," Daniels said with a sad smile. "I'm the mirror you see yourself in. You might want to use that fist or your friends might wonder what we've been doing back here all this time. I promise I won't bring up Judge Harris's name. In case you wanted to know. I'm in room twenty-six at Roy's Men's Club on Main. Second floor in the back. I'm there most days. Can't guarantee nights, though."

  Roach yelled, "Hey, Carter, fuck it or leave it. We're rolling."

  Ben snarled and clipped Daniels, feeling the satisfying smack of flesh under his knuckles. Daniels staggered back and was only kept from falling when Ben grabbed his arm and hauled him forward. The handcuffed man didn't resist as he was led back to the paddy wagon and stuffed inside with the others. His gaze never left Ben until the door swung shut and the truck shuddered and headed back to the station.

  Roach clapped him on the shoulder while they headed back to their vehicles. "Looks like you gave that little nancy a taste of a real man.

  "Yeah, got what he deserved."

  * * * *

  Ben never had any intention of going. He ignored the siren call for nearly a week. Then he told himself he was only checking to see if the kid was all right. Some of the queens arrested that day got further beatings in the cells. Had Daniels been one of them?

  He'd looked up the arrest records for that night. A Dylan Daniels had been booked on loitering and public intoxication, released the next morning. No mention of injuries before or after the arrest. Of course there wouldn't be.

  He found the place without any difficulty. It was a three-story wood and brick structure that needed a paint job, but otherwise wasn't as rundown as some. A couple of ragged looking men lingered around the entrance, not doing much to conceal their flasks. They watched Ben suspiciously as he approached and entered the building. He was in civvies and tried to look inconspicuous as he made his way up the backstairs to the second floor. But he knew he looked like a cop, and nothing would change that.

  The door was plain white wood with two brass digits nailed into it. Two and six. Nothing to suggest what lay beyond it. Nothing to tell Ben what he might find. Or what he might lose.

  He raised his hand to knock; dropped it. Chewing on his lip, he looked both ways. The dim hall was empty except for a telephone on the wall and a single porcelain sink. The dull brown carpet was worn and the textured wallpaper looked like rose flowers laid over darker purple. If only made the hall darker. The odor of smoke and the essence of all the humanity who had trampled these halls lingered.

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and rapped on the door. He was ready to bolt when the latch was thrown and the door opened wide enough for Daniels to peer out at him. Surprised, he pulled the door all the way open.

  "Officer... " He shrugged after a second of searching for a name that wasn't there. "I guess we weren't formally introduced the other day."

  "Ben Carter."

  "Officer Carter. Ah, would you like to come in?"

  Ben hesitated. Daniels leaned against the open door. "Someone's likely to come by soon. If you want to be seen in front of my door, then by all means stay out there. Otherwise--"

  Ben slipped past Daniels and turned to face him. After closing and locking the door, Daniels moved toward an alcove that had cupboards and shelves. He came back with a bottle of Johnny Walker and two high ball glasses he'd picked up from Liberty's just this week.

  "Drink?"

  "I--"

  "You're not on duty, right? Besides, drinking isn't illegal, is it? Just buying and selling the stuff is. And making it, which I assure you I haven't ever done. So technically, right now, neither of us is breaking any laws."

  "You some kind of fucking lawyer?"

  "No." Daniels grinned. "I just know a lot of people. Including some lawyers. And judges."

  "And cops?"

  "I don't kiss and tell." He smiled slyly. "Not normally, at least."

  "I'm sure your clients would be happy to hear that."

  "Please, sit. I promise I won't bite. Unless you want me to."

  "Why do you keep saying shit like that? Like you think I want to... like I want to... " He couldn't say the words. His throat closed over the idea. In horror, he realized he was getting hard, like he had every time he thought of the beautiful golden boy
since that terrible day they had met.

  "Fuck me?"

  Ben swallowed and looked away. Heat flushed his entire body, centered on his throbbing cock.

  "Fuck you?" he whispered.

  * * * *

  The big copper gaped at me, trying to look pissed. He didn't fool me. I'd known when I first saw him, after I invoked Harris's name, that he played for my team. I studied him, liking what I saw. Every inch. Just my type. Big and dark, lean face with chocolate brown eyes that stared into my soul. His broad shoulders and chest narrowed to a beautifully tight ass. I glanced down at his crotch. It was as swollen as mine.

  I raised my head and let him stare me down, fluttering my eyes closed. I wanted to touch him but the first move had to come from him.

  "I know that's what you want." I stepped closer. His tension jacked up along with his breathing. I could smell his need now. Dark musk. Intoxicating. It intensified my own. "That's okay, I want it, too."

  I took another step. He grabbed my shoulders in an iron grip. I reveled in the pain, knowing what it meant. Still, I barely had time to open my mouth before he slammed his down on mine. With a tortured groan, he shoved his tongue down my throat and pulled me against his hard body, both hands holding me in place. His rigid cock ground into my belly. Hands moved up to hold my head like a vice grip. I couldn't move. I didn't want to--unless it was onto my bed. My hands roamed his back, sliding up under his suspenders and shirt onto bare skin. His muscles writhed at my touch. He trembled; his heart pounded against his rib cage.

  He groaned again and broke away from me only long enough to wrench my shirt off. The silk held under his assault, but my trousers weren't as strong. The buttons on my fly popped and cotton seams ripped. He had me in my skivvies in seconds. It took me longer but then he wouldn't let go of me long enough to get his clothes off.

  But I finally had his dick out and I wrenched out of his arms and dropped to my knees in front of him. His engorged dick stood out from a mass of dark hair, thick veins circled the rigid length. I licked the bulbous head, still half covered with foreskin. He moaned and his hips twitched forward. I took that as a plea and pushed the skin back, exposing his swollen, purple cock head. I wrapped my lips around it. He tasted like musky salt and I gobbled him down, taking his whole length into my mouth.