by P. J. Brown
I jumped off the chaise longue where I had sat to strip off my shoes and socks and lunged for the door. Had someone figured out what we were doing and come with trouble? I was sure the desk clerk hadn't looked at either of us oddly, but if he didn't buy our story of being business partners...
I threw the door open and gave a startled oof when Ben pushed past me into the room. He seemed to enjoy plunging into rooms and catching me off guard. And just like the last time, he kicked the door shut. His jacket was gone and so were his suspenders and tie. His shirt was open halfway to reveal the light mat of hair on his chest. He was sweating.
"Fuck waiting thirty minutes. I want you now."
He pulled me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. His swollen cock pressed against my belly and I would have moaned if he hadn't swallowed it with his mouth.
"You can talk all you want later," he growled against my throat. "All I want right now is to fuck you."
I managed to squeak, "Yes," before he propelled me toward the bed. After that I shut up. We spent a precious few minutes pulling the rest of our clothes off. This was no easy, slow seduction. He meant it when he said he wanted me now, this instant.
Once we were both naked, he threw me down on the bed and fell on top of me. Our cocks were trapped between us, rubbing along our bellies while our mouths were glued together, our tongues battling. He broke away and rose above me.
"Look at me."
I did and his half-lidded eyes were dark with passion. He kept his hips between my legs and thrust gently against me, his face twisted in desire and need so naked it was frightening. Then he shut his eyes and slammed his mouth back down on me. His tongue assaulted mine; his lips were bruising. I grappled to pull him closer and when I couldn't, I grew frustrated.
We rocked together, two animals with a need that consumed us. There was no petroleum jelly. Instead, he spit into his hand and wrapped his fist around his swollen cock, guiding the fat head into my tight ass. My moans were whimpers now as pain mingled with raw pleasure when he invaded me. I clutched his ass and pulled him into me, wrapping my legs around his shoulder, angling my hole to take him deep. Each stroke across my prostate was pleasure beyond memory.
I would have screamed, but he rammed his mouth over mine and all that escaped was a grunt. Our bodies were slick with sweat. He drove into me again and again, mindless now as we both clawed toward something I had never experienced before.
My balls tightened and fire started in the base of my cock, spreading outward until every inch of skin burned with it. I came in pulses and he moaned and filled me with hot cum. My tremors went on and on and only after I had stopped shivering did I realize we had both been shaking.
Ben stroked my damp hair and murmured my name repeatedly. His lips trailed heat across my face and throat and his hands shook. We both slipped into sleep while our nerves still trembled.
I awoke once, to find him clinging to me, his breathing deep and even. Even in sleep he never released me. I whispered his name and slid back into a dreamless world of comfort.
"Dylan?" My name was a soft whisper on his lips the next morning when I cracked one eye open. Newly risen sunlight streaked in through the curtain seams.
I stretched gingerly, aching in the most delicious way. His soft cock, still impressively large, lay across his hairy thigh. I shivered at the memory of being split apart with it. My smile was tentative when I raised my eyes to meet his.
His was blinding. Then regret shadowed his face. He stroked my cheek with his thumb, brushing my swollen lips.
"We have to head back. We can grab breakfast on the way."
Food was the last thing on my mind, but I knew he was right. We showered and shaved and eventually made our way to the desk to check out. If we got any curious looks from the staff I never noticed. I found it too hard to take my eyes off him as he paid with the money I had given him earlier. Soon after, I followed him to my car, blinking against the sun when I stepped out of the cool shadows into a glorious Santa Barbara day.
I had never found a city so beguiling.
We were silent over a quick breakfast and on most of the road trip back. This time I let him drive. He handled Greta as easily as he handled me and I found myself flushing when I watched his hands grip the gears and steering wheel with easy skill.
At his building, Ben quickly clambered out. He waited for me to walk around to the driver's side, but already his eyes were back to scanning the streets, watching for nosy gazes that might be looking at us. I wanted to tell him not to ruin it, but it was too late. Ben was back in his world and fear ruled him again.
He barely glanced at me when I shut the door and put the flivver back in gear.
"Will I see you later?" I asked, low and quiet.
"Maybe," was all he said.
I didn't wait for him to enter his building. I knew he wouldn't want me to. Still, it took all my willpower to pull away from the curb and turn Greta toward home. I even managed to make it to the end of the street without turning around to see if he was watching.
The sidewalk in front of his place was empty.
I was barely inside my room when a knock pulled me back to the door. But instead of being Ben, it was the old woman down the hall.
"Somebody on the phone for you."
I knew it wasn't Ben the minute I picked up the handset. My heart folded when I realized it was George.
"I'm coming into town Monday and I was hoping we might meet."
My tongue twisted around my first response and I froze when I realized I meant to say no. What was I doing? I had no reason to believe Ben and I were going to be anything long-term. Sure, the last couple of days had been beyond divine, but if he never came back where did that leave me? I still had to survive in this world and I wasn't going to do it wishing for the permanence of a relationship with a fickle, scared cop.
I shuffled on my bare feet on the thin carpet. On the phone, George's soft breathing never changed, but I knew he was waiting. Not once in our times together had I ever even considered saying no to him. I wanted to now, oh God how I wanted to, but I realized with a falling heart that I couldn't.
"Sure," I whispered my lie. "You know I always do."
"Good. Good. I should arrive at the hotel by six in the evening. We can meet in the Golden Room and have drinks."
"I... I'd like that."
When he hung up I stood there for several minutes while chilled air flowed over my toes and up my legs. Or was it the air? The goose bumps crowding my arms hadn't been there earlier.
Slowly, I replaced the receiver and made my way back to my room where I shut and locked the door.
I was already in bed that night when the second knock came. I threw a robe on over my pajamas and crossed to the door. It was late for another phone call. Taking a deep breath I pulled the door open.
Ben stood in the dark hall, his knee length trench coat parted, revealing his long legs clad in black pinstripes. He had an equally dark fedora pulled down over his head. I stepped aside without a word and let him in.
"I wasn't going to come," he said when he pulled his hat off and revealed his flushed face. "I didn't want to come."
He stepped closer and my hands reached out to part his coat. "But you did. You always do."
"You know why." He grabbed my hands and held them away from him. It didn't help. I still felt his tension, the hardness in his body. "I was walking. That's all. Just walking. Trying to think. But I can't... " He growled low in his throat and hauled me against him. "I can't fucking think of anything but this." Still without taking his long coat off he held me tight, his mouth on my throat.
"That's okay," I whispered. "I can't either."
"But you're not trying."
Before I could respond, his mouth shut me up. In seconds we were on my unmade bed, his trench coat enclosing both of us in its folds. Finally he cursed and rose on his knees, ripping the material away. At the same time I fumbled with his pants and freed him to my eager hands and mouth.<
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He cried out when I swallowed him to the root. His fingers dug through my scalp and held me tight as he pumped into me. With a second shout he filled my mouth with his seed and I nearly choked trying to swallow it. It dribbled down my chin, but I eagerly sucked him dry, licking the swollen purple head clean of spunk.
He groaned and pulled out of me, rolling onto his back and drawing me with him. I lay atop him, feeling the savage beating of his heart subside and his breathing slowly return to normal. When I raised my head to look down at him, his eyes were closed in pain.
"This isn't right."
"Yes it is," I said fiercely. Sitting up, I made him look at me. When he did I shrugged out of my pajamas, letting him see my hairless, golden chest and my cock rising stiffly out of my groin. "What's wrong with this? You can see how much I want you. How much you want me. What's wrong with that?" I stroked myself. "I want you so badly," I whispered. "You will never know how much."
I leaned down and touched my lips to his. My tongue darted out and lightly stroked his mouth, licking his chin. "Touch me."
He wrapped his fist around my cock and stroked me lightly.
"Harder. Oh, God, harder!"
He complied and we both stared at my cock as it reddened and erupted, spilling creamy cum over his clenched fingers.
"This," I murmured as I curled around his side, "is why it's right."
We slept and woke at dawn. I climbed out of bed, pulled on my robe and made my way to the bathroom down the hall. When I came back, showered, he still lay in bed, one arm thrown over his face. I didn't need to see his eyes to know he was fully aware of me. I was pretty sure he'd been awake before me.
"Do you have time for breakfast?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer. I approached the bed and knelt beside him. His silence unnerved me.
"Ben, baby, please--"
He shoved me away. "Don't call me that. This is insane. I'm not throwing my life away for some cheap fucking who--"
Without thinking, I slapped him. Startled, Ben jerked away from me. Then with a snarl he seized my wrist and twisted it, forcing me backward. "That was not smart."
I cried out and struggled against his grip without success. "You're hurting me!"
He released me without warning and I tumbled to the floor. Scrambling off the bed, Ben towered over me. Rage and horror warred on his face. I scuttled away from him.
"Don't!"
"Dylan--"
Tears poured down my cheeks. I grabbed his shoes off the floor and flung them at him, followed by his coat. "Get out of here. Next time--next time I'll call the real cops." I was shaking, whether from fear or anger I could no longer tell. My face was wet. His skin was pale.
* * * *
Los Angeles, March 11, 1933
Without another word Ben dressed, pulled on his shoes and trench coat and left, not even bothering to see if anyone saw him leave the building. Like the night before, he walked without conscious thought. Hat jammed down on his head, he kept his eyes down, letting others go around him, his blackness invoking no arguments.
Only when his feet stumbled in weariness did he pause and take note of where he was. Near the Tenderloin. Ben found the nearest blind pig where he knew he'd be recognized and grabbed an empty bar stool. He wrinkled his nose when he entered the dim, half empty place. There were a dozen spittoons and the floor was greasy from those who missed. He was glad there wasn't enough light to see what he was walking on.
The bartender brought his whiskey. "Leave the bottle."
"Bad day?"
"I've had better."
The door opened and closed, people came and went. The bottle level sank steadily, but the liquid haze he fell into did nothing to alleviate his blackness. Finally he looked up when a small group entered and filled the bar around him. Two women were among them. He recognized one. A slender brunette who had done a few bit parts in some Hollywood three reelers. She liked men. She liked young, unmarried ones best of all, though she was rarely that particular.
She crowded him, their knees touched. "Can I?" She reached for the quarter full bottle.
He waved the bartender to bring another glass. She poured a finger and raised her drink in salute. He studied her profile. She was a good-looking woman. He knew a lot of barflies at this joint wanted her. A good number had already had her.
He wasn't one of them. But tonight he checked her out. If he wanted to be normal, this was what he needed, right? He swung around on his stool and looked at her squarely.
"I saw one of your movies on Saturday," he lied. "You were... very pretty."
"Oh, which one? Was it my favorite?" She giggled. "Behind Office Doors? I had a line with Bobby."
He feigned interest. "Bobby? The Bobby?" Like he knew the actor she was mooning over.
"Robert Ames. A wonderful man. He took me to dinner. At the Derby." She lowered her voice and leaned closer. The cloying scent of flowers followed her. "We spoke to Mary and Doug."
Ben almost asked Mary who, then caught himself. "Pickford? I'm impressed."
He swore if she had a fan she would have used it right then to cool her flushing face. "He's such a lady's man, isn't he?"
"So I've heard." He took a deep breath. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it now. "Have you eaten, miss?"
"Oh, please, call me Rose. That's my screen name, you know."
"Very pretty. It suits you. Would you have lunch with me, Rose?"
She blushed and dipped her head, a stray curl of hair falling artfully over her face. The girl was either a born coquette or a practiced one. "I'd love to, Officer Carter."
"Ben, please." He settled up with the bartender, who smirked at him knowingly as he held out his arm to escort Rose out. Ben hoped he earned the look.
Outside, the streets were busy with the dinner crowd. He'd been in there drinking damn near all day. Clifton's Cafeteria was just as crowded. They patiently stood in line, but as always, the food, when they got it and found a table to sit at, was good.
Fortunately, Rose was a talker. Ben ate while she kept up a steady stream of chatter about her career, the stars she had met and apparently became best friends with, and her ambitions. All the while he tried to work up some interest in her. Sex was sex, right? Turn the lights off and he could perform. Easy. He wanted to be normal so he needed to do this.
So why did the thought leave him cold? He was sorry he'd picked Clifton's. The cheery jungle facade didn't amuse him. A nearby group of children, laughing and screaming didn't either. It didn't help he hadn't thought to carry a flask when he went on this fucked up jaunt. Instead, he sat beside this nattering woman drinking a Coke and trying to work up the desire to fuck her.
Images of Dylan kept invading his mind. This was fucked. How could someone he just met be so stuck in his head? Every thatch of blond hair brought back memories of one particular blond head. The feel of his cock buried inside him. The sounds he made when he came. The sounds they both made.
He got hard just thinking of it. He realized Rose had stopped talking. She was watching him.
"What is it, Ben?"
He passed his hand over his erection and smiled at her. "Would you like to go to my place for a coffee? I probably have something good to add to it."
She smiled. "I'd love to."
He took her arm again and led her outside. They headed north toward his rooming house. "It's not much, I'm afraid. I live on a copper's salary, remember."
She hugged his arm tight against her chest. "You make me feel safe." She giggled again and tossed her head. Her hair was all curls, probably modeled after some movie star.
He smiled at her. "That's my job, ma'am. Well, here we are."
The door to his rooming house was polished brass and pounded tin set in a stone archway. The building had been something fancier years before. Now only the outside reflected that. The inside was just old. It smelled of mildew and boiled cabbage. Rose wrinkled her nose, but still clung to him as he led her up the stairs to his room. Fo
r once he was glad the halls were badly lit. The shadows hid a lot of neglect.
The same couldn't be said of his room. There was more than enough light in the place to show how pitiful it was. Like Dylan, he spent nothing on appearances. Like Dylan, he was saving his money.
For what? To run away with some barely legal golden boy? Go to a place five thousand miles away where there was nobody they could turn to but each other?
Stop thinking about him!
Once he shut and locked the door, Rose swung around to face him, her face flushed and her eyes shining. She grabbed his arms. "I want that coffee, baby."
He hugged her with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "Does it have to be hot?" He nuzzled her neck. Her giggle was getting irritating. To shut her up he pulled her against him and kissed her.
His erection was long gone. Even frantic thoughts of Dylan didn't help. He pawed her tits, kissing her the whole time. He ignored her when she tried to push him away. She pounded on his chest with her fists. He shoved her against the door, memories of doing that with Dylan. He tried to lift her up, pressing her into the wood. He pinned her arms, jamming his hips between hers, grinding into her.
One of her fingernails caught his cheek. He jerked back, glaring down at her in a dull rage.
"I thought this was what you wanted? Isn't that why you came back here." He squeezed one tit in his hand. "For this. And this." He tried to kiss her again, though her perfume made him nauseous.
She scratched him again. He threw her away from him and she stumbled and half fell, half sat with her back to the door, her legs splayed out. The skirt she wore flew around her thighs, revealing pale, white legs.
She scrambled to her feet and faced him, panting, her cheeks flaming. "You're a monster."
He stepped toward her and she backed up.
"You stay away from me."
He put his hand to his cheek. It came away bloody. "What are you gonna do, call the police?"
She burst out crying and jerked the door open. Without looking back, she fled and he could hear the clatter of her shoes all the way to the front door. His adrenaline rush faded, leaving him dizzy.
