by James Lear
Some guys just need to have the element of choice taken away from them.
He tried to grab me by the arms; he was fast, but I was faster. I twisted away, spun on my back heel, and used the moment to rock him off his feet. He was down on the floor, looking up at me from cock level.
“Get up, boy.”
He didn’t like it, but what could he do? He may have had the looks and the muscles, he was probably ten, twenty pounds heavier than me, but I was in total control.
I had an idea. I put my hands around the back of his neck and jumped, wrapping my legs around his waist. He had no choice but to carry me, his cock rubbing against my ass, my cock pressed against his belly and chest. He staggered a few steps and then, top-heavy as he was, slipped on the mat and broke his fall with his hand. I got my feet to the ground just in time to prevent my full weight crashing on to his ribs. I straddled him, sat down on his cock, and bounced around on it. My dick was doing a dance all of its own. Lukas looked half winded. I grabbed his wrists and pinned him.
I pulled him to his feet and tripped him again, this time pinning him with my cock in his face; he didn’t even turn his away, just let me rub it over his lips. One more pin, this time with me on my back, Lukas lying on top of me, immobilized by my arms and legs, and the match was over.
“So, gentlemen,” I yelled, sounding like a fairground huckster—a voice I had only used on the parade ground—“what do you want to see first?”
There was a confusion of shouts, with all our names in various combinations, and the repeated syllable “fuck.”
I raised a hand for silence. “Let’s start with the losers. Boys, get over here.”
Dakota and Kieran stood on either side of me.
“Get down on your knees and suck some cock.”
Lukas and I stood side by side, panting, sweaty, hairy, while the two boys knelt in front of us. Dakota got to me first; Kieran took his position in front of Lukas. I caught the look between them, as Kieran cupped the big man’s balls and started to lick his shaft. This was more than just a job for them. The old me would have been finding ways to get them out of here, give them some privacy. The new me pushed Kieran around so that everyone could get a good view of Lukas’s dick entering his mouth.
Dakota, of course, was sucking like a pro, making sure the audience got all the good angles. All I had to do was put my hands on my hips and concentrate on not shooting too soon.
The audience was quiet now. Some of them were jerking off. This was what they’d come for. The sex show. It felt good being a whore. The thought nearly made me cum. I pulled out of Dakota’s mouth, and resumed my MC duties.
“And now, Lukas. On your fucking knees, pal.”
He did as he was told, and gave me a barely adequate blow job. Compared to Dakota’s skilled slickness, this was strictly beginner’s level stuff, but the look of concentration on Lukas’s handsome face was enough to keep me close to the edge. I’d teach him, even if I had to lead him around on all fours sucking every stiff cock in the house . . .
“And now for the fucking. Let’s see a show of hands, gentlemen. Who wants to see Craig Lukas take it up the ass?”
There was little doubt as to the outcome. Every hand in the place went up. Never underestimate the appeal of a straight man taking it.
“Okay, boys. Get me rubbered up.”
“For Christ’s sake . . .” whispered Lukas through gritted teeth. “This can’t be happening.”
I knelt down beside him. “Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll take it easy. Unless you want it hard.”
“Shit . . .”
He looked as if he was going to cry, but his cock was telling another story—stiff as a fucking iron bar, wet and drooling.
Dakota was trying to roll a condom on to me, so I stood up and gave everyone a good view. Lukas positioned himself on all fours.
“McAvoy! Lube him up.”
Kieran did his work well; Lukas’s ass was open, and I glided in without resistance. Lukas groaned and sighed and gave himself to me.
Fucking him on all fours was great—the view of his back tapering out to his massive shoulders was inspiring me—but the audience couldn’t see his face or his cock. I wanted them to see him cum as I pounded into him. So I pulled out, flipped him over, and raised his legs, the quads and hamstrings pumped and heavy. It was easy to push back into him, and now everyone had a clear view of his hairy torso and handsome, superhero face as he took my cock deep into his guts. Dakota and Kieran were spellbound, both of them hard. I could hear groans in the audience; I guess one or two of the guys had cum, which was the kind of ovation I welcomed.
I gave it to Lukas good and hard, and he took every inch. His dick never softened. His arms were above his head, his deep, furry armpits exposed, but at last he could stand it no longer and brought a hand down to his cock and started stroking. I guess that cumming in front of an audience of men while you’ve got a dick plunging into your ass means that your reputation as a heterosexual is kind of compromised, but Lukas was past caring. He needed to cum, and it only took a few strokes before jets of thick white spunk were feathering out all over his torso.
I kept going until I could stand it no more. I pulled out, whipped off the condom, and shot my load in Lukas’s sweaty face. Some of it went in his mouth, some of it hit him on the forehead, some of it rolled down his cheeks and chin. He didn’t turn away.
This left the two losers naked, hard, and ready for anything. I felt the time was right for a little audience participation.
“Okay, gents. Who wants to make these boys cum? I’m feeling generous. Two lucky winners get to give them a helping hand.” Every hand in the room went up. “Okay, you,” I said, pointing to the rich-looking Daddy that Dakota had chosen, “and you.” My second choice was one of the younger men in the room, not much older than me, who looked like he could be in the military. Cropped black hair with a bit of silver, a sports jacket, an open-necked shirt, and a conspicuous gold band on the third finger of his left hand. If I’d had to choose one for myself it would have been him, so he’d do nicely for Kieran. Perhaps later we could work something out, the three of us . . .
The boys went willingly to their appointed partners, sat on their laps, and let hands roam all over their bodies. This wasn’t going to take long. Dakota straddled his gent’s lap, facing him, and bucked up and down, his hands behind the guy’s head. Kieran lay back in the man’s arms and let him kiss him and wank him at the same time. He came first, shooting his jizz in an arc through the air, landing with an audible splat on the floor. Dakota made more of a show of his orgasm, leaning backwards, his abs tensed, as the guy milked his dick. The spunk shot over an expensive cashmere sweater. I guess it didn’t matter; he probably had a closet full of them at home.
My instructions were to get out of the party as soon as the show was over; Vaughan didn’t want the boys giving away any freebies. I herded Lukas and the boys back into our dressing room; we wiped up, dressed quickly, and made for the doors.
And it was just before we left the house—twenty seconds later and we’d have been out of there—that we heard the first shot.
12
The shot was followed by shouts, the sound of a scuffle, then three more shots fired in quick succession. I told the boys to hit the floor, and opened the door between me and the hall, cursing the fact that I hadn’t been issued firearms.
The body lay faceup in the middle of the marble floor, blood pooling from a wound in the back. The eyes were wide open, and there was a slight movement around the mouth as the throat struggled pointlessly to draw breath into destroyed lungs. Very soon it ended. The pool of blood grew larger, and the body was still.
It was Oz.
No time to care about that. First of all, secure the situation. There was a gun lying a couple of feet away from Oz’s right hand—presumably he had fired the first shot—which I quickly picked up, put on the safety, and pocketed. The shot or shots that killed him must have come from the reception room, j
udging by the way the body had fallen. There was nobody there, but I could hear movement from beyond the door. Faces peered cautiously from the dining room, where only a minute or two ago we’d been doing a different sort of shooting. They looked terrified, wide-eyed and ashen-faced. Nobody posed an immediate threat. I approached.
Inside the room, people were dispersing quickly. The man who had made Kieran come—the handsome, dark-haired guy—already had his overcoat on, and was closing a briefcase.
“Everybody stay exactly where they are,” I said, in the voice I’ve used in combat situations around the world. “This is a crime scene.”
“And who are you?” said the man with the briefcase, cool as a cucumber, his handsome face unperturbed.
“Greg Cooper. Captain Greg . . .”
Before I could give my bogus credentials he cut me off. “Well thank you for your concern, Greg. As it happens, I am a police officer.”
I said nothing. A few minutes ago he’d been part of an orgy—not actually breaking the law, but certainly doing things that would not recommend him for promotion. Bringing the force into disrepute, I guess, unless the British police force thinks that jerking off prostitutes in front of an audience is reasonable behavior.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to see my warrant card?”
“That’s fine, sir. I’m sure you’re in full control of the situation.” What was in his briefcase? It looked as if he’d just put something away. Another gun? It was not up to me to confront him. “If you need a witness statement . . .”
“But you witnessed nothing, Captain Cooper.”
“I know the deceased.”
There was muttering from the crowd. “I think,” said the cop, “that most of us know the deceased. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call.” There was sarcasm in his voice. “I’m sure you understand. Perhaps you will take the other performers home.”
What should I do? To intervene too much would jeopardize the mission. On the other hand, someone had just killed a boy I knew, a boy I might have cared about. If this really was a police officer, and if the other guests were prominent businessmen and pillars of the community, then the chances of a cover-up were sky high.
I calculated quickly.
There was more to be done from a position inside the Vaughan organization than outside. If necessary, I could blow the whistle once the mission was safely complete. I would put myself, as well as Kieran, Dakota, and Vaughan, at risk if I challenged him.
I moved towards the door. “Is there another exit, so I don’t have to bring them through here?”
One of the other guests stepped forward. “I’ll show you,” he said, gesturing towards the room where the boys were still hiding. “You can go through the garage.”
And so, with the sound of the gunfire fresh in my ears, and with Oz’s blood still oozing over the marble floor, I led Kieran, Dakota, and Lukas away from the house without them seeing a thing.
We went back to City Fitness to pick up our money. Nobody spoke much in the cab. Lukas stared out of the window; perhaps he’d seen all this before. Kieran and Dakota huddled together, tense and frightened. This is what happened to Vaughan boys who stepped out of line.
I needed to contact MI6.
Jackson was waiting for me. He, too, looked scared.
“Mr. Vaughan is here. He’d like to see you.”
“Was his flight early?” I tried to act cool, as if seeing a young man murdered was all part of an evening’s work.
“He’s waiting.”
“Oh, dear. Have I been a bad boy? Is the boss going to give me a spanking?” I moved close to Jackson, whispered in his ear. He flinched.
“Please, Greg . . .”
“It’s okay. I’m not going to tell him anything.” I walked into Vaughan’s office without knocking. He was all affability. “Ah, Greg. Thanks for coming by.”
“How was Florida?”
“Very nice, very nice.” He thought for a second. “You know. Hot.”
Hot, my ass. You weren’t there at all, were you? “I must get back there some time.”
“Actually, it’s about your travel plans that I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to go out to the US for me.”
“Did you leave something behind?”
“We’ve got a chance to get Craig Lukas a fight.”
“I know. Next month, isn’t it?”
“Something new has come up.”
“Great. When and where?”
“New York City, the day after tomorrow.”
“Short notice. What’s the plan?”
“You will fly out with Lukas in the morning. Get him ready to fight. Keep him in check.”
“And what kind of fight is this? Another invited audience, like this evening?”
Vaughan scowled; he obviously didn’t like direct references to his unorthodox business activities. “A boxing match,” he said. “A promoter that I know over there has a fighter he’s keen to . . .”
“Promote?”
“Yes.” Vaughan was used to his subordinates doing as they were told; I made him uneasy. “We’re setting up an exhibition match as a way of raising his media profile before the big fight in Miami.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” I could smell bullshit, and Vaughan knew it. “I guess you’ve got lots of interviews and photoshoots set up.”
“Yes, yes, of course . . .”
“Are we taking Bill Brett with us?”
“What?”
“Your in-house photographer.”
“Of course not.” He was getting cross with me now. This was fun.
“I suppose there are plenty of photographers in New York City who do that kind of work. Perhaps your promoter friend can hook you up.”
Vaughan was losing patience, and wanted me out of the office. “Tom has all the travel details. There will be further instructions when you get to New York.”
“And when are you joining us?”
“What?”
“When are you flying to New York? You’re not going to miss your golden boy’s first American fight, are you?”
“I’ll come out if I possibly can. I have a lot of things to sort out over here . . .”
I interrupted. “Yes, you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are we going to pretend nothing happened tonight? I assume you know.”
“That’s being taken care of.”
“I spoke to someone who said he was a police officer.”
“You . . .” He took a breath, and started again. “Yes, he mentioned how cooperative you’d been. Thank you for that, Greg. I value cooperation very highly.”
“And is that what happens to people who don’t cooperate?” I put two fingers to my temple, and mimed a shooting.
We looked at each other in silence for a while.
“I’ve been advised not to discuss this,” said Vaughan.
“And what about me?”
“What about you?”
“I’m a witness. Won’t I be needed for the police investigation?”
“If anyone needs you they can talk to you when you get back.”
“Right.” Of course there wouldn’t be a police investigation. Oz would disappear, no body would be found, no missing persons report. I knew how Vaughan worked. His associates would close ranks to protect themselves. Lukas and I were being sent out of the country on the first available flight. What about Dakota and Kieran? They’d heard the shots too. Perhaps Vaughan thought that they could be more easily intimidated into silence.
“I can rely on you, can’t I, Greg? I’m not going to start having problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“We hired you because we understood that you could follow orders.”
“If you want that, don’t hire officers.”
“Ex-officers.”
“And you know why I’m an ex-officer, don’t you? Because I wouldn’t take thei
r bullshit.”
“Yes, Greg. We know all that. And we value your independent spirit.” What the fuck was this, the royal “we”? “But at this point in time, I need to know that I can trust you to run things in New York.”
“Yes, you can trust me. I’ll get Lukas to wherever he needs to be, doing whatever he needs to do, whether it’s fighting or fucking. I just ask one thing in return.”
“You’ll be paid well.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what?”
“Let’s not lie to each other, Vaughan. I’m not one of these kids you recruit from foster care. If I’m going to work with you, I’d appreciate honesty.”
“Would you now.”
I stood with my arms folded, and said nothing. “Very well. You’ve seen enough of the business to know how it works. I’ve been obliged to diversify.”
“You can say that again.”
“But this trip to New York is core business. I mean boxing.”
“Thanks for making that clear.”
“Are we good?”
“We’re good. I shall await further instructions.”
“Thank you, Greg. Have a good flight.”
I had to get out of there before I started laughing. As international criminal masterminds go, Vaughan was strictly third-rate.
I emailed MI6 on the encrypted server.
Panoply murdered this evening. Among witnesses/ suspects is man 40s claiming to be senior police officer. I am flying to NYC tomorrow morning. Urgent require support and instructions.
I gave them the address of the shooting, and my flight numbers. An acknowledgement came back within a minute. No orders. No advice. Once I boarded that flight in the morning, I was stepping into the unknown.
It was my first night in Manchester without one of Vaughan’s employees spinning around on the end of my cock: Kieran on the first night, Joshua and Dakota on the second, Jackson on the third. After what had happened this evening, not to mention all the other fucking I’d been doing, you might think I’d sink into an exhausted sleep, but nothing doing. I lay awake, going over and over in my mind what could have happened to Oz—and what was waiting for me on the other side of the Atlantic.
