In the Rough

by Sara Brookes

  He sat again, picked up the container of glue and realized with a start that Enver’s body was covered with the diodes except for one swath of skin low on Enver’s abdomen. No help for it now—Marcus needed to finish.

  “Just...ah, let me know if you get too uncomfortable.” He reminded himself that he was going to have to remove each and every one of these damn things with as much care as he took placing them. Each one was expensive to replace and funds were low as it was.

  In truth, he hated to mar the beautiful line Enver’s impressive cock made between his legs. He needed to focus on the task at hand, at the science he was trying to make and not on how much he longed to cup the length, worship the ridges and smooth skin of the thickly veined shaft. How the heavy weight of Enver’s testicles begged for Marcus to run his thumb slowly over them, exploring as he wrapped his lips around the wide width of the crown.

  Marcus’s cock pressed against the restraint of his fitted boxer briefs, eager for attention. The energy of the moment, of the prospect of having a scan of someone else besides himself in the program, should have propelled him to finish. Instead, he sat there staring dumbfounded at the spectacularly fine specimen of nude male before him. He’d have to take an icy shower later. Or beat a desperate, over-too-quickly orgasm out in one of the bathrooms in order to have the capacity to think.

  “Just as embarrassing for me as it is you, man,” Enver grumbled. “Get it over with.”

  The growly tone of Enver’s words did nothing to calm the tempest. Marcus bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to hold on to his control as that whiskey and smoke voice wrapped around the base of his dick and squeezed. Except the pain had the opposite effect, ratcheting his arousal up exponentially. Heat and tension flooded his loins, his chest, tightening every muscle in his body so that thinking became incredibly difficult. He’d heard of suffering for work, but God help him, this was ridiculous.

  “Fuck it all to fucking fuckery,” he muttered as he set to work.

  Chapter Four

  Two hours later, Marcus had a perfect digital rendering. Pleased with the results, he’d removed the receptors from Enver’s body and settled down in front of his equipment.

  “How does it look?”

  “Pull up a chair if you’d like.” Marcus glanced over cautiously, grateful Enver was clothed once again. Though the arousal threading through him had muted while he’d directed Enver to stand and move and bend in different ways, the press of his dick against his pants was still evident.

  The thought of the oversensitive body part reminded him of something else. He opened a nearby drawer and set a small vial on the desk. “Mineral oil to remove any residual spirit gum.”

  “Thanks.” As Enver grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the table, Marcus sat up, draping his arm across his lap to hide his lingering reaction. Enver had been nothing but professional throughout, and Marcus had gotten a woody like some eager teenage boy who didn’t know the definition of control. “So how long do I have to wait in exchange for embarrassing myself for the past few hours with your little...whatever you called them?”

  “The system will continue rendering details of the three-dimensional images in the background, but I can start testing without waiting.” Marcus doubted Enver had a clue what he was talking about. A glance over at Enver’s glazed look confirmed his hunch. He truly forgot not everyone shared his passion for technology and that he needed to put things into layman’s terms.

  “Basically, each bit of information the diodes feed into the system has to pass through this program and get assigned a place marker. Then they all piece themselves together in the assigned order, and voilà.” Marcus tapped the mouse on the large monitor mounted on a support bracket. When the screen came to life, he gestured to it. “We get a digital copy of you. Or your foot, at least, for the time being.” Marcus used a special mouse shaped like a dial and tilted and turned the graphic so Enver could see. “Once this is all done, I’ll take the fully rendered image and drop it on this machine here.”

  Marcus spun in his chair to face his other workstation, a more powerful computer that handled the main program for BLINC. Instead of a monitor, he used a sixty-inch widescreen television so others could watch while a user interfaced with the program. In time, he hoped to have larger displays for businesses that wanted observers to be just as much a part of the program. Someday, he’d like to have a fully immersive room. Right now such tech was the stuff of the Holodeck on the starship USS Enterprise.

  No reason not to dream big.

  “What’s all that?” Enver gestured to the green lines filling the black background.

  “The club. Or at least a rudimentary outline of a few rooms I’ve had a chance to measure off. This one. Court. The lounge.” Marcus glanced around, but didn’t immediately locate what he was looking for. He needed better organization. “I have the headset somewhere around here.”

  Enver stood, pushing the chair back against the wall. “That’s all right. I need to get going. Stuck around a little longer than I meant to.”

  “Sorry.” Though Marcus wasn’t too remorseful. He’d gotten to admire Enver in his full glory for more than an hour. Hard to complain about work when it came with that kind of benefit.

  “No worries.” Enver gestured to Marcus’s setup. “Mind if I take a look when that’s done? See what kind of sacrifice I’ve made by agreeing to have my body scanned?”

  Marcus smiled. “The rendering should be finished up by tomorrow if you want to come back. Just let me know beforehand and I’ll make sure I have it loaded before you get here.”

  “May be a few days before you hear from me since I have some work of my own to take care of, but yeah, I’ll let you know. I’d be interested to see the final product just from a curiosity standpoint. Thanks.” Enver paused as he glanced to the equipment again. “It was...enlightening.”

  Marcus sagged as Enver left, breathing deep for the first time since he’d requested the scan. He hadn’t been this on edge in a long time, this at odds with his brain and his body. He was aroused by the prospect of his work finally moving forward and aware of the tension radiating from his abdomen.

  His cock twitched, reminding him it was still there and still very much in need of attention. But each soft beep of confirmation from his program drowned out the demand, and allowed him to push the arousal down deep. The amount of work he had before him was enough for him to keep fully focused, though he doubted he was going to be able to forget the bliss of the past two hours with a gorgeous naked man.

  As his gaze slid back to the screen, he caught sight of the mineral oil vial still sitting where he’d set it earlier. Hopefully he could track down Enver before he left. Removing any traces of the skin glue would be almost impossible without it. He’d likely scrape his skin raw if he tried.

  He scooped it up, locked his terminal and stepped out of the room. Thanks to the network of televisions mounted in the hallways, he saw Enver exit through the front door. If he hurried, he could catch him before he left.

  * * *

  In the parking lot of Noble House five minutes later, Enver sat in the ’74 Dodge Charger he’d purchased with his own money as a teen. He used it as a shield against the power that had followed him out of the club, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

  It had taken every ounce of control to keep himself from reacting to Marcus’s touch. Several times he’d been thankful Marcus had gone to retrieve more of those damn electronic gadgets, as it had allowed him to take a deep breath, collect his thoughts and get himself under control again. He hadn’t missed the few lingering glances either, which had made his predicament all the more excruciating.

  And precarious.

  His reaction to Marcus had been visceral from the beginning, but standing there nude before him had forced Enver to put every restraint trick he knew into play. Remember every promise he’d
made to himself. At some point during the process, the ache in his gut had become an edgy throb.

  He’d used that energy to focus, to give himself something else to think of instead of how goddamn good Marcus’s hands felt moving over his body. Those hands. Those fucking hands he couldn’t stop thinking about even now as he trembled with need within the privacy of his car.

  When Marcus had turned his focus to the final area not covered with the small diodes, a single brush of knuckles against his shaft had made Enver want to bury every last inch of his cock deep inside Marcus’s mouth.

  The image of doing just that flashed behind Enver’s eyes. His cock throbbed so hard, he growled as he saw himself roughly fucking Marcus’s mouth, coming on his tongue and down his throat. The man reveled in the treatment, his grunts of pleasure filling the air around them.

  He always managed to keep his needs under wraps, not because he wanted to—but because he had to. He hadn’t been this excited in forever. This desperate for relief, his body all but vibrating with a savagery he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. He wanted to weep from the power of it. Wanted to roar. Storm back into the club, fold Marcus over one of those damn computer tables and shove inside him to unleash all the raw, pent-up possession burning through them both like wildfire.

  Ah, God, this is madness. Enver slapped his hand against the steering wheel. Again. Sheer fucking madness. The pain did nothing to dull the blinding ache. Working with the subbies at the club more than fulfilled his sexual desires, even if it never—could never—result in his climax. The subs were the focus, seeing to their needs of the upmost importance to him. To see them content gave him all the satisfaction he longed for.

  What a crock of shit.

  The desire—the need—tore at him because the last time he’d come was nothing more than the ghost of a memory. Not that he hadn’t been tempted, especially when he’d worked with Bracey. She’d been exactly the kind of submissive he would have gone for if he’d been interested in participating fully in the scene. He’d been there for her. God, had he. Over and over without fail, he’d given her the kind of loving attention and support she’d deserved until it had nearly broken him.

  With Marcus, he wanted to be broken.

  He lifted the lever on the seat, angling the back so he was at a sharp angle and well below the level of the windows. The parking lot was filled with cars of members already inside the club, and Enver had parked in his usual spot at the dark corner at the far end, so the danger of getting caught was minimal.

  In the space of a breath, he had his zipper open and freed himself from the confines of his underwear. His sharp hiss filled the car as he wrapped his fingers around his erection. The relief was short-lived as the image of Marcus on his knees, looking up and offering himself slammed back into him, assaulting him with the ferocity of his desires. Oh God...he didn’t know why he was so taken by the thought of the man, but he couldn’t stop using him as masturbation fodder. Didn’t want to stop. Feels too damn spectacular.

  He dragged his fist over his cock, pulling his hips back to heighten the sensation of friction. He tightened the grip, a strangled gasp ripping from his throat as the tight clasp reminded him what it felt like to be buried deep inside a lover’s mouth. As he imagined Marcus on his knees again, looking up with those haunted eyes that had experienced too much pain, Enver swiped his thumb over the tip, using the drops of precome to lubricate his path. Marcus drew him in, taking him to the back of his throat in a single swallow.

  Holy God, he was a beautiful specimen of male.

  “Fuck,” Enver muttered into the quiet of his car.

  He splayed his free hand on the cushion beneath his thighs, using it as leverage to angle higher into his own grip. Marcus licked and sucked and worked without reprieve. He entered a trancelike state, arching his back off the seat as he jacked himself harder and faster. A familiar desperate yearning had taken up residence in his gut, surging through him as his balls drew up, his body quivering intensely as he worked himself closer to the edge.

  He thrust his hips upward as he dragged his fist down in rough, uncoordinated jerks. Again. And again. Fast, then slowing a few seconds before returning to the same brutal pace. Drawing it out, working his hand up and down his shaft, as agony filled his testicles. Delicious pain that made him feel as though he was going to die right there in his vehicle.

  He continued working, feeling his cock thicken and lengthen as orgasm drew closer, knowing the release was going to feel glorious when he finally allowed it. Details blurred and nothing filled Enver’s mind but the desperate urgency to get off. He snarled loudly as he bucked against the seat, his movement growing jerky and frantic. He called the insatiable storm forth, letting it flood his senses as he started to come in a sudden explosion of light and heat.

  * * *

  Un-fucking-believable.

  Fire flashed hot through Marcus’s palm as the vial of oil he’d been clutching shattered in his grip. As Enver came, a blinding, desperate urgency roped through Marcus. A primal need to yank open the door and share in Enver’s climax.

  He felt like he’d been hit in the solar plexus with a head-butt. Common sense had told him to turn tail and leave Enver alone, but how could he not watch such a beautiful thing? Instead of listening to his brain, he listened to other parts. The quadruple stack of opera windows allowed him to find the right vantage point while standing near the passenger side of Enver’s classic muscle car. The slender porthole windows helped overcome the two-door car’s blind spot, but allowed him to watch. Of course, if Enver opened his eyes, he would instantly spot Marcus but the risk was worth the reward of watching at the perfect angle to see the man in all his glory.

  Hard, deep, mind-blowing, commanding sexual glory.

  Enver’s muted growls grew sharper, deeper as he continued to milk his shaft, pumping until a thick pearl of moisture beaded at the tip. His thighs bunched under his jeans, his breath coming in fast pants as he jacked himself with short, rapid strokes. A man desperate for respite, but fighting back the onslaught, his mouth twisting in a grimace as animalistic need captured him.

  Marcus had never seen a man wear his agony so beautifully.

  A second later, Enver came again, a thick burst of semen spurting from him as his deep roar wrapped around the base of Marcus’s cock. His body trembled furiously like an oak recovering from a close proximity lightning strike, the power of his climax rippling through his formidable frame. The scent of viciously aroused male slammed into Marcus. It called to him, releasing an unexpected flood of his own arousal when he thought he was as excited as he could possibly be.

  “Holy shit,” Marcus muttered softly as he watched stark relief wash over Enver’s face. The older man continued to hold his amazingly semi-erect dick, slowly moving his fingers as though two climaxes weren’t enough to satisfy whatever need had driven him to masturbate in the club’s parking lot.

  Marcus recognized the struggle, had seen more than a few submissives—and a few Dominants—go through the same thing. Mentally ready to experience more pleasure, but physically unable to perform because the body was too exhausted. But it was more than the violent power of the two releases.

  Marcus inexplicably felt lingering emotions he couldn’t identify, sharp and as powerful as the residue of a gunshot despite the glass separating them. Enver hadn’t been absently trying to jack himself off—he’d been thinking about someone in particular.

  Enver’s hand movements quickened, going from lazy enjoyment to single-minded purpose. Within a few strokes, Enver had brought himself back to full staff. Marcus’s heart started to pound as he realized Enver didn’t intend to stop until he’d satisfied himself to the point of real exhaustion.

  He’d been wrong earlier. There had been no struggle. Only a few moments of respite as Enver luxuriated in his pleasure until he was ready to go again. This was a man who had uncompromising control and cou
ld go all night.

  All fucking night.

  The need to serve the insatiable man slammed into Marcus so hard, he nearly dropped to his knees to worship at the altar of Enver Furst. Instead, he angled back and away from the car, moving as quickly and as quietly as he could so as not to disturb Enver.

  He finally noticed his hands were shaking as he stepped back into his makeshift office. It took him a few more lengthy seconds to realize blood stained his right palm from the splintered glass. He grabbed the first aid kit he stowed for emergencies, patching up his sliced palm with trembling fingers and not even feeling the sting of the antiseptic gel.

  For long moments, he was too stunned to focus on the pile of work he faced. He simply stared off into space, the explicit images of that exquisite, beautiful man fucking his fist playing over and over in his mind on an endless loop. If there had ever been a shadow of a doubt to his attraction to Enver, what he’d just seen had shattered it into a million tiny shards.

  Chapter Five

  Enver slammed the hammer down onto the glowing hot piece of steel. Then did it again. And again. He usually gained a measure of satisfaction from pounding metal into shape, but not today. Too many things on his mind. Too many distractions. Too much pent-up frustration.

  He typically came to the forge to forget or to clear his mind. The juxtaposition of the simplicity of the work and the complexity of bringing pieces to life usually brought him some clarity. It was the same kind of headspace he often found during a scene at Noble House, but he couldn’t seem to shut down the shit whirling through him like a tornado since the scanning session with Marcus three days ago.

  Even taking care of himself in the parking lot of Noble House hadn’t been enough. Release had come a few times, but never fully dulled the edge of need. He’d finally given up when he realized he could have fucked his hand all night and it would never be enough. Escaping to the solitude of his mountain, to his forge, had seemed like a good alternative to burn away the energy. Give him the clarity he needed. Remind him how much he’d risked with that jackoff session. How many steps back he’d taken in his recovery.