Rough Attraction

by Talon p. s.

  “Oh shiiiit!” Darko cut out a tight curse, his hand held tight on Maxum’s scalp and his thighs jumped under the tension as his cock pulsated in Maxum’s mouth then shot out an immaculate release. The fist Maxum still had wrapped around his own dick, started pumping and prepping the erection while he swallowed down the prize Darko’s body shot down his gullet. Dark, richly briny. An exotic candy all to his own palate, like a dark malt scotch. He just couldn’t get enough of this. And he still nurtured Darko’s cock, playing in the extra skin with his tongue even as it softened until Darko forced him to let go. “Fuck that was incredible.” Darko’s way of applauding him, and then folded down, diving into his mouth and kissed him full on. That too, was something Maxum hadn’t had in a long time. He let out a growl and pushed up to his feet, into Darko’s arms, pressing against the man’s body and deepened their kiss, wrangling with the tongue that sought to share the flavors from his tongue.

  “Damn you.” Maxum tore away with a growl and pressed his head against the side of Darko’s face as he strained to catch his breath.

  “Hmmm— a blow job like that and now you’re cursing me? Seems rather contrite.” Darko joked as he nudged against Maxum’s cheek with his nose, trying to roll him back for more accessible kissing, but finally just grabbing Maxum’s chin and lifted him up to be taken.

  “You’re like a dru—” The last word swallowed up by Darko’s insistent kiss and for whatever reason Maxum thought to argue this, was relented. Their tongues rolled together, clashed. Maxum was operating on instinct, licentiousness and pent up frustration. At no point was their kiss a gentle exploration, but every bit as explosive as a savage war. Hot and consuming, a rendering of self. An unquenchable thirst. He wanted more and he needed it now, and his arms were instantly seeking out Darko’s legs, hoisting him up and putting him flat on his back on the desk.

  Maxum wasn’t thinking control as he lined the tip of his shaft with Darko’s rosette, the grip of Darko’s hands as they took hold of his hips and pulled said he wasn’t either and Maxum sank in, pausing only to relish the first gasp they both shared. He eased back as the ripple of pleasure moved over him and seated its epic pulse at the base of his balls, then pushed until he was all the way in. Darko’s body tightened around him like a fist, a slight curse husked from his own lips while shifting side to side to get that last micron of depth and yet another gasp. Nevertheless, once that first delicious feeling was past, Maxum began moving in and out of the lover he had stumbled across and he lost control of himself. The salacious slide of his cock inside Darko’s tight walls was as intense as the emotional face that looked up at him, equally consumed with this blazing bonfire they shared.

  Their eyes locked in each other’s gaze as Maxum found a grinding rhythm that suited them both, their raspy breaths echoed in the small office as they both became nothing more than sensation and frenzy. Maxum couldn’t think, he could only feel and not all was purely physical. There was something about the rugged looking, hedonist, he was molesting at the moment. Like the exotic car, you didn’t just take for a test drive, you became addicted to them.

  Sweat beaded up on his back, knocking his cologne into high gear that scented the stale air of the room that was just as quickly becoming coated with the smell of their sex. Maxum liked the smell. No potpourris, just two men and men’s cologne battling to overpower the smell of the machine shop.

  Maxum kicked up another notch in his pace feeling the intensity building at the base of his spine. Darko too, was groaning, in a staccato breath created by Maxum’s relentless pounding against his ass. The slap of his balls not only added to the sound of their bodies and expressions but also stimulated them, sending him plummeting towards an explosive release.

  But he wanted to hear more than just groaning from Darko and he bent down at his knees and angled his pistoning thrust upward to get the money spot. Darko tossed his head, his hand coming around his cock and began to pump franticly to normalize the intense pleasure that ripped through him. “Mmmm fu—” The word morphing into panting huffs and then it hit. Darko’s head slammed back into the desk only to curl up with the rest of his body as it contorted with orgasm.

  Maxum was right behind him. He stood straight then slammed against Darko’s ass as hard as he could and seated his cock all the way to the bottom where he remained growling like a menacing animal as he shot out his load. The sound that bounced off the wall and came back at him didn’t even sound remotely human, but it was him and matched every bit of what he was feeling. And when it drained from him and collapsed over Darko in a heap of panting nothingness. Dingy oil stained hands came over him in a lazy caress over his back in a weak attempt to cuddle before falling back to the desk. The gritty feel of the touch reminded Maxum of the grimy handprints they left behind— oh hell he just didn’t give a fuck right now.

  Maxum laid there until the moment of panting chorus gave way to awkward silence and he stood, easing out of the man he was so hooked on. He snapped the spent condom from his dick, dropped it like a trophy in the waste bin, and disappeared in the small bathroom. The bathroom light flickered then shone down on him with a yellow glare as he looked at his reflection and the grease marks on his jaw line and shoulder. “Fuck.” He cursed turning his head for a better look. He slathered his hands up using the degreaser goop from the jar on the sink edge, lathered it up and made a futile attempt to clean the mess off as he silently contemplated how he felt about them.

  He snatched several paper towels from the dispenser, wet them down, and tried to wipe off the grime marks from his shoulder. He tried to get pissed standing there staring at them, or rather he was trying to condone his presence. The smudges of black were merely a symbol that he was where he should not be, but the anger never came. Not about where he was or that his lover had dirtied him. Sure, he cared. He cared when it was an insult to his senses. This wasn’t the same. Darko challenged him, he didn’t insulting or act as if he wasn’t even there as a real person. He closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead touched the mirror and he just stood there. Mentally dismissing the thoughts. This was just—

  An arm reaching around him, turned the water on, disrupted his thoughts and he stood up coming back against Darko’s chest. The hand in the sink squeezed a clean, white cloth then moved in to wash his soft dick, while lips equally soft kissed his neck. And dark blues watched him intently over his shoulder through the mirror’s reflection of them. “Having second thoughts about me?”

  “No.” Maxum answered, just a little too hastily, but he didn’t want thoughts getting in the way, “Come spend the weekend with me.” But instead of answering him Darko reached around taking his still smudged jaw and pulled him to turn around where he landed right into a slow tender kiss, perhaps too tender, but Maxum didn’t care about that either right now.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  CHAPTER THREE

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Darko had actually persuaded Maxum to alter their plans to stay at Darko’s place instead under the insistence that he wasn’t about to sleep in an unfamiliar bed on a night before practice. Maxum thought it was a rather lame excuse until he went and watched from one of the bridges just down from the boathouse as the eight-man scull glided across the river’s surface in the early morning sun. Maxum sat forward on the bench where he was mesmerized by the physique and fluidity of each of the men. There was something about certain sports that got a man’s attention, like rugby and soccer. Sculling was now among them.

  The late October wind whipped across the water and slapped his face with the impending arrival of a New York winter. He pulled his wool coat in tighter wishing he was on the boat. Although they were wearing much less, their bodies pumping with the exertion of the sport meant they were warmer than he was at the moment.

  While the view was spectacular, it was steadily pulling off down the river and out of sight, so he decided to head over to his place grab an overnight bag, to do a few extra things and change out cars. He even t
imed it right, getting back to the boathouse just as Darko was stepping out to look for him. To which he was more than happy to steal Maxum away and take him back to the flat.

  All day and into the next, Maxum and Darko lounged on the sofa watching gay porn and took free play with each other’s bodies. There never was the request or hinting, they simply did when the mood arose, which was quite frequently. If Maxum had been booze, Darko would be several sheets to the wind just then. He was not a unblemished man of sex. Darko knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to be adventurous and had plenty of willing subjects for his menu. Even so, Maxum seized his desires in a way he’d never felt with any of them. The man didn’t flirt he invested. His intensity was a constant brush against his nerve endings, rousing some long forgotten slumbering part of his body, working him into a frenzy.

  “So how adventurous are you?” Maxum nudged the man, sprawled across his lap at the moment, with a shoulder.

  Darko gave him a queried expression, “As long as it doesn’t entail me having to call one of my brothers to bail me out, I’m game.”

  Maxum chuckled, “I was thinking along the lines of food. Le Bernardin is having their food and wine tasting tonight. I have a reserved table there. I just wasn’t sure you’d be willing to suffer through overpriced, overly designed fancy food.”

  Darko twisted so he could look up at him, “Those things appeal to you?”

  Maxum’s gaze dropped over him and he scratched at his lip with a finger, almost like a nervous twitch, “Yeah, they do.”

  Darko only smiled. “Then let’s go.”

  “Good. Get dressed, and put on a tie.”

  “Alright, but don’t expect me to wash my hands.” Darko joked. Maxum stalled suddenly, just as he’d gotten to his feet. His hand sought out Darko’s and slowly brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked two of them in. A light groan rode on his sigh as his tongue tasted remnants of their earlier hand jobs. “I agree.” He smiled playfully, letting Darko’s hand go and headed for the bedroom where he’d placed his overnight bag and suit hanger, earlier.

  An hour and half later they were pulling up in front of the Waldorf Astoria on Park Avenue. Much as the lavish hotel didn’t surprise Darko, since they were going to a fancy food and wine tasting social, the part that Maxum pulled up into the valet did. Oh sure, rich folk always did that, but not with a car that cost more than an average person’s lifetime income. Yet they zipped right in and Maxum left the keys in the ignition as they hopped out. The second thing that took Darko by surprise was suddenly feeling the hand at the small of his back. Darko snapped a glance at Maxum, just before they made it in, “So this is a touchy date?”

  Maxum stopped and something haunting threatened just under his face, but his hand hadn’t fallen away just yet. “Do you not want me too?”

  “No—” Darko shook his head, “I mean yes, just didn’t expect it. High society and all.”

  Maxum seemed relieved, “At five thousand a pop I’m allowed some PDA, or I stop coming.” With his comment, Maxum’s hand pressed a little, urging them inside.

  “Somehow, I doubt one toss of five grand is going to have them baulking.” Darko smirked as they made their way down the large corridor filled with people crowding towards the banquet hall.

  “They do, when I go to anywhere from six to eight of these a year.” He chuckled just as they stepped into the event hall, and the air of food, wine, and money met them head on. If it had not been for the comforting contact of Maxim’s hand still on his back, Darko was sure he’d have turned right back around and left. He’d been to socials, been around wealthy people, but he knew full damn well he didn’t fit in. However, he liked very much fitting into the arms of the man next to him, so a little social unease was tolerable considering the pay off.

  Almost right away, a few social butterflies in the crowd approached to greet Maxum. Each time Darko noticed, the man stroked his back before drawing away to shake hands or grasp their shoulder for a cheeky kiss-n-greet, then right back to his original position, his hand stoking over Darko like a signal that said I know you are still here. Darko liked it. As they continued to steer for the bar, there was no way to make it without a few more stops. But once there, a heavy sigh came from Maxum which brought on a certain chuckle from Darko. Clearly, the faux pressure valve release was brought on by all the ladies’ vulgarly innocent attempts to touch him. Whether it was for his looks or his market value didn’t matter. What amused Darko was, with each one, Maxum seemed to sweat them more. The man was purely 100% gay-angus-beef.

  “So this PDA— is there a limit?” Darko teased, more so to adjust the man’s thoughts back to a perspective comfort zone.

  Maxum’s fingers leafed one of the wine lists on the bar and slid it over to browse the selection for tasting. The arm around Darko drew tighter, pulling him in for full body contact before turning to face him with a part content, part smoldering expression, “Usually, if the term ‘get a room’ has to be mentioned, I think they expect us to cordially make our exit.” And to prove a point, Maxum leaned in and kissed him. Nothing too arousing, but it wasn’t a zip-in zip-out peck on the cheek either. His soft lips lingered on his own, delivering a subliminal message as if to tell every fiber of his body— finally, I found you.

  Damn. But if he could learn to love this guy.

  The evening event went on. Live music to entertain. Non-stop sampling of foods—some so fancy and exotic Darko couldn’t bring himself to taste. He made several tight-lipped expressions to prevent them from being shoveled into his mouth anyways, which his rich lover was taking some delight in doing, like a new game he’d never been allowed to play before. Food, of course, was followed up with more wine. Working their way from the light & fruity to the more dark & robust. The banquet hall in itself held a rich flavor; dark umber walls tricked out with burnished gold and navy dinner tables and a few high bar tables peppered the floor. All of which corralled around a center banquet of all-you-could-eat hors d’oeuvres and amuse bouche. Maxum was in his element, enjoying the event as much as Darko would enjoy being at a rowing race right now. He had to admit the trade off was still in good running with him. Nevertheless, he was starting to eyeball the balconies that overlooked the ballroom, noting that none were in use— and it was far easier than getting a room, with a dash of naughty to boot. Maxum had abandoned his post for a restroom break and no doubt, the ladies would be moving in like vultures to pine for a moment of his time with no one at his side. So, Darko retreated to the main bar ordering up a dark ale to remedy his palate of all the overly fancy stuff for a bold malt flavor more to his liking while he waited for the equally likable man to return.

  A gingered-haired man, dressed in a nice tan suit came up beside him, landing his elbows on the bar heavily, his eyes landing on Darko’s body with like measure. Darko only smirked, his gaydar meter pinging hard into the red. One was always bound to approach. He saw the tells written all over the man’s face; married, straight, sex life unfulfilling, and still at a loss of how to fill it. This type so often moved in on who they hoped was experienced enough to lead them to the fulfillment of their closeted needs. Darko chuckled to himself, a perfect prey to be turned into submissive material. He brought a finger up to his mouth cloaking the the silent laugh as he licked over his lips. Why, he could even hook him up if the mood to be so nice struck him. Which he didn’t—not here—and not on his date. Though Darko had offered no invitation, the man had clearly loaded up on his liquid courage and thus began the small talk anyways. Darko knew he wasn’t on his own turf, had he been at the Tavern, Club Pain or hell, even the occasional visit to the Leather Strap, he would have been clear about what the definition of piss-off meant. Instead, he stopped himself, just in case Mister Ginger was a client or close friend of Maxum’s. Still, friend or not, Darko gave no encouragement toward further conversation. Eyes straight ahead, nursing his stout. None of that seemed to deter the other male any. That was until Maxum was back at his side, just when Mister Ginger popp
ed the question.

  “So, any chance I can get your number?” Mister Ginger’s eyes dropped to the floor nervously.

  “He’s not a rent boy.” A possessive tone came over Darko’s right shoulder and he turned to a displeased expression from Maxum.

  Darko didn’t for one second think it might be for him, and he dropped his head back, catching Maxum by his tie and pulled him over for a kiss. “But he is what happens, when you leave your honey within range of the flies.” Darko joked to make light of the encounter. Something changed in Maxum at that moment, making Darko reconsider that maybe some of Maxum’s fuss really was for him because just then the mar in Maxum’s expression was fixed and wiped away for him. Maxum seemed relieved and with a smile that said as much, he bent down over Darko and kissed him several more times. Each one becoming longer and deeper until they were locked in a kiss that said it was time for that room, or maybe the balcony he’d been eyeing. Darko said as much with a growl when Maxum pulled away to catch his breath, “Don’t make me have to say it twice.” he teased.