Jude in Chains

by K. Z. Snow

  I gently pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

  “You’re not going to give this up,” I whispered, looking into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I won’t let you.”

  His silence indicated his assent. He kept caressing my face and shoulders, arms and chest. His hand slipped between our bodies, and he trailed his fingers along and around my dick. The deft, longing touch made it twitch, a puppet without strings.

  “Jesus,” I breathed out.

  Slowly, I swayed my hips above his. There was just enough friction between our rain-dampened cocks to send splintery shivers down my legs. Braced on my arms, I lowered myself so I could trace Jude’s lips with the tip of my tongue. He moaned beneath me. His strong fingers wrapped around both our rigid cocks, squeezing them together, and began pumping them in concert. Every now and then, his thumb and forefinger played around the two plump heads, or his little finger teased my balls.

  I hadn’t done this in a long time —not since Robbie decided we could no longer penetrate each other’s body during sex.

  “You prefer this?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Right now, yeah.”

  “Do you like the rest too?” Hazy as my mind was, I couldn’t help wondering if his parents’ religious beliefs had restricted Jude to cock-on-cock action. Was everything else out of the question with him?

  “I love it all,” he said. “All of it. I’d especially love it with you.”

  His words, as well as his nimble fingers, sent my excitement into overdrive. I shivered against him. My hips made quavering, reflexive thrusts, pushing my cock into his grip, pushing my dense, damp heat against his. I skimmed my fingers over Jude’s fingers, helped nudge our crowns together. The feeling was exquisite. That thick, torturous tension in my groin began to break, and a sharp tingle made my eyelids flutter. I couldn’t hold out.

  Jude whimpered with each breath. The sound was my tipping point. Grunting between his feeble exclamations, I turned my head down and tried to peer into the dark, narrow space between our bodies. I saw shapes, movement. That was enough. My imagination could take care of the rest.

  Chins nearly touching our chests, we watched ourselves come, spilling onto each other, pulsing against each other. The climax felt like it was tugging me to pieces and melting the parts. On it went, a gripping, rolling pleasure, until the last, low waves shimmied through me.

  My arms began to give out. I wilted to the left and fell onto my back.

  As we lay there, Jude and I held hands.

  Perfection.

  We tilted onto our sides to face each other. Still no words, still more touches. It was our first true exploration. I hoped it would lead to discovery.

  “Do you realize how much you mean to me?” I asked, petting Jude’s hair with affectionate amusement. I couldn’t get it to lie down.

  “No,” he said. Then, “Maybe.”

  “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

  “Yes.”

  I studied his face and decided he was beautiful too. I’d probably decided that a long time ago.

  “Don’t you remember kissing me at Barbarosa’s?” he asked, as if the question had been nagging at him.

  “No. I’m not sure why.”

  “You tasted of rum,” he said. “That might explain it.”

  “Oh God….” Fucking rum had obliterated what could have been one of the best memories of my life. Then again, maybe it hadn’t. “What did I do afterward?”

  “Some guy pulled you away,” Jude said, “and you went off and danced with him. But you did look over your shoulder at me.”

  “Like I wanted to come back.”

  “I thought you didn’t remember.”

  “Maybe, subconsciously, I do. Anyway, it just makes sense. Now it does.” I petted the line of his right eyebrow and trailed my fingers down the side of his face. “You make me better, Jude.”

  Rocking forward, I kissed him. He held my head in place. They were leisurely, sensual kisses now, slow and savoring. I reveled in his skill. Most guys I’d known had been too tongue-centric; they didn’t know how to use their lips. Jude knew how to use his. Damn, did he ever. I would’ve given anything to see them cinching my cock.

  We hiked up our pants and then wrapped ourselves together, hugging with arms and legs, our faces and bare chests melded. Jude’s fingertips made patterns on my back. I massaged his neck with one hand, slipped my other hand inside his open jeans and enjoyed the tight, silky hemispheres of his ass.

  “Let’s sleep here like this,” he murmured. “Just for a while.”

  I wasn’t about to protest. My eyes closed as his breath fanned my skin.

  WHEN we awoke, the palest hint of light silvered the treetops across Freedom Lake. Jude stretched like a cat within my arms. Our bodies were warm from each other. We’d constructed our own sauna.

  “Looks like a while turned into all night,” I mumbled.

  Jude stirred, then cursed softly.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m stuck to my underwear.”

  I chuckled, even though I shared his pain. “It was worth it.” I kissed his warm throat.

  Jude made a purring sound. “We’d better get back to our rooms.”

  “There’s time.” I trailed a hand down Jude’s back as he shifted and sat up.

  “Don’t tempt me, Misha.” He ran his musician’s fingers over my chest, his blunt nails sliding through the hair.

  He’d told me he played a number of different instruments but favored keyboards. It showed.

  I tugged at the waistband of his jeans. “Payback. You’ve been tormenting me all week.”

  He smiled down at me. “Ditto.” After a thoughtful pause, he said, “I’ll bet you’re gorgeous even now.”

  It was still too dark for him to tell. “You haven’t seen my hair yet.”

  Snickering softly, Jude stood, stretched, and fixed his clothes. “You coming?”

  “If you help me.”

  “Now that,” he said, “was a true one-night-stand line.”

  I sat up, wondering vaguely where my shirt was. “That wasn’t a one-night stand, though. Not for me. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  The crickets began to quiet.

  “I have to go,” Jude murmured, and skimmed a hand over my hair. “Yeah, it is kind of a mess.”

  I grabbed his hand and kissed it. I felt like a moonstruck teenager. “See you later. Don’t let your meat loaf.”

  “Oh God,” he groaned, and scampered down the gazebo’s stairs.

  I grinned at his retreating form. All was right in my world.

  To celebrate, and because I suddenly felt invincible, I decided to go skinny-dipping before the sun rose. Besides, I did need to clean myself off. Last night’s rain had fled, leaving behind grass and leaves that glistened in the light of a waxing moon. Nature seemed to have divorced itself from Stronger Wings and reclaimed all its fey beauty.

  I pulled off my shoes and socks, peeled off my jeans. Wincing, I managed to unglue my boxer briefs from my crotch. Even my discomfort brought me joy. I found my properly opaque shirt in a moist heap on the gazebo floor. Rather than throw all my clothes onto the beach and encrust them with sand, I spread them out of one of the benches.

  The weighted bounce and sway of my cock and balls actually aroused me a little as I walked to the beach. Thinking of Jude’s adroit fondling aroused me further. I lazily played with myself before wading into the lake. The romantic feelings would hit me later—hell, they’d already begun to creep up on me and sing sappy ballads at my back—so I wanted to enjoy the purely physical rush of this attraction while I could.

  I dove into the water as I envisioned my hard dick sliding into Jude’s ass.

  Dawn had broken by the time I finished my swim, got dressed, and started trekking back to North Lodge. Rather than circle South Lodge, I decided to take the shorter route and cut through it. As I crossed the empty lobby, someone pronounced my name as if it were an invective.


  Glowering, Hammer strode toward me from the corridor that led to the offices.

  “Come with me,” he said brusquely.

  I immediately feared Jude and I had been busted, until I realized it didn’t matter. I had plenty of material for my article, and I’d managed to bring Jude to his senses. Or, at least, I thought I had. I was supposed to leave tomorrow anyway.

  Hammer steered me to his office. Once he’d closed the door, he didn’t head for his Holstein chair or invite me to have a seat. Instead, he stood a few feet away from me, imitating a thundercloud.

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “At the beach. I went for a swim.”

  “You disappeared from the dance last night.”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I began to feel uncomfortable, so I left.”

  “And where did you go?”

  I figured he was trying to trip me up, so I didn’t lie and say I’d gone back to my room. “Outside. I like walking in the rain. Then I went to my car and checked my e-mail, made some calls. Then I fell asleep. When I woke up, I went back to the lake. What’s the big deal?”

  Ev stood with his hands on his hips and studied my face. Something I’d said must have fouled up his accusations, because he sure as shit had intended to accuse me of an impropriety.

  “The big deal is this,” he said. “Jude Stone disappeared from the dance too. Thom went to his room looking for him, but he wasn’t there.”

  Impassively, I met his gaze. “Yeah, so?”

  “Two people were spotted in the gazebo. They appeared to be men, and they appeared to be embracing.”

  I shrugged and lifted my hands.

  “Where was Jude?” Hammer’s lowered voice carried a hint of threat.

  I feigned irritation. “Why are you asking me? Why don’t you ask him?”

  Oh, Ev didn’t like that. His implied threat became a promise. “Believe me, we will.”

  “Well,” I said, “if you’re through making mountains out of molehills—”

  He obviously wasn’t. He grabbed my arm as I turned toward the door. “Have you been advising men to leave this program?”

  I sighed. “Not precisely ‘advising’.”

  That did it. Ev blew. His volume dial spun to the right. “Then what would you call it, Mr. Objective Journalist? Word’s been trickling through the grapevine that you’ve been puking up your goddamned opinions all week.” He’d started gesticulating, pacing. “I don’t even need verification, since I’ve seen enough evidence of your meddling myself.”

  I crossed my arms and waited.

  Ev suddenly stopped in front of me and became ominously still. His eyes moved down and up my body. “You’re gay, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. He knew.

  “Yes,” I said. “As God made me. Just like every man here. Including you.”

  There was a tiny crimp at one corner of his mouth. I couldn’t tell if it was a withheld smile or sneer or a nervous tic.

  “The con is over. Hit the road, Mr. Tzerko. Now.”

  “Don’t I get to have breakfast first?”

  Ev went red. The suddenness of the flush was startling. “Now!” he shouted, pointing at the door.

  “Thanks for the memories.” I turned away.

  “By the way,” he said to my back, “don’t expect to take any of your prey with you.”

  There was a snide tone of triumph in his voice that made me pause before I left. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I said. “I never treated this tragic place as a hunting ground.” I turned as my ire rose. “That’s what you do.”

  We had a brief stare-down. It conveyed every one of our differences.

  In the thin atmosphere of his eyes, I saw the smeared mirrors and rust-stained sinks of wayside restrooms and the bare-bulb glare of Stronger Wings storerooms. I saw the seamed lips of his father’s flinty approbation and his wife’s more tenuous resignation.

  I perused his bank statements with him and eavesdropped on his thoughts, directed at his father: I’ll show you, you starchy old bastard. I’ll show you. And like a chorus in the background, the walls released the grunts of men well paid for their discretion or merely compensated by their misguided awe.

  “I’m sorry your life turned out this way,” I said quietly, with more feeling than I’d ever thought I could summon for this man. “I’ll bet you used to love your life. I’ve seen old pictures of you. You were proud of who you were.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” he growled like a dying bear.

  “I don't need to,” I answered. “I’ll never need to.” I wondered whom he’d been doing this week.

  His face had hardened. Even with cosmetic surgery, the lines etched there would never be gone. They ran too deep.

  “In case you’re not aware of it,” Ev said with cavalier viciousness, “Mr. Stone signed up for the two-week course. He’ll be staying on.” Now his lips did curl, and his smile sent a cool wave of nausea through me. “We have a great deal left to teach him. He’s always expressed a sincere desire to win this battle with his debased urges. Jude might be a man of few words, but he’s determined. I don’t think he’ll let some gutter-variety man-slut get in his way.”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t trust my voice.

  You lay a hand on him, I thought, and I’ll shove a broom handle clear up your ass and make you sing “I’m Every Woman” while I’m doing it.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Ev tossed out, “you needn’t bother going to Mr. Stone’s room. He’s elsewhere, having a talk with Thom Swain.”

  Before my face gave me away, I calmly left the office and headed for North Lodge.

  I cleaned myself up and put on some fresh clothes. Packing didn’t take long at all. My mind was as blank as I could make it, but beneath that tabula rasa a dozen frantic plans half formed and then fell apart. I was a superficially controlled mess.

  The sound of footsteps and muted voices came from outside my room, which meant the men were on their way to breakfast. I wanted to find Jude, but I knew damned well I’d be intercepted and, probably, escorted from the building if I approached any of the registrants.

  I kept telling myself to have faith in Jude, in his irrepressible passion and integrity and common sense. And whatever germinal feelings he might have for me. If I’d let myself see Jude as vulnerable, a victim of his own blind desperation, I would’ve gone berserk. The thought of these soul stealers having him in their clutches for another week would’ve pushed me over the edge.

  Still, I couldn’t slink away like a thief in the night. There was no particular nobility in that course. Even if I couldn’t talk to Jude alone, I had to make some final statement.

  After depositing my things in the car, I returned to North Lodge.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I SET my bundle of clothes on an empty chair and ambled through the dining room. Women gasped. All of them, as well as maybe a quarter of the men, got up and left. The guys who stayed stared at their plates. Some kept sliding glances at me. Jude watched openly. He appeared bemused. Beyond that, I couldn’t interpret his expression.

  I didn’t single him out, though, because I didn’t want to embarrass him. After my first glance, I didn’t look at him again.

  “I’ve been asked to leave,” I announced. “But I wanted to thank you for your acceptance and cooperation and, most of all, your honesty. I respect all of you. And I’m deeply concerned for all of you.”

  Hammer wasn’t around. The mentors, however, were, and they exchanged shocked, uncertain looks. So which confident ex-gay was going to hazard tackling a crazy, naked guy with a damned nice body?

  “I’m deeply sorry for having deceived you,” I went on, “but I hope you understand why it was necessary.”

  “Why is this necessary?” called out a man named Jeff.

  “Because I wanted to get your attention. Because I want you all to reconsider what you’re doing. None of you needs fixing. A little adjustment of perspective, maybe, but not a complete, forced overh
aul. That’s what would be unnatural: trying to reject the way you were created and are meant to be.”

  “Mick!” The mentor Darren dove for me, but I skipped out of his reach.

  My sane, civilized self kept harping at the exhibitionist, What the fuck is wrong with you? But my body, now in motion, was at the mercy of Newtonian physics. Feeling more and more like Norma Rae with a dick, I held my arms out. “Do you really want to give this up? Can you honestly say you’d be happy giving this up?”

  “Hell no,” said someone behind me on the left.

  Ashton. He smiled up at me and said, “You are fucking hot, Mick. If I hadn’t met Samuel, I’d so let you do me.”

  I leaned over, cradled Ashton’s face in my hands, and kissed him. He tasted of maple syrup. It was a fond kiss of encouragement, not one born of a desire to fuck him or influence him. One of Ash’s smooth hands petted my cock, although it was hopelessly flaccid.

  Samuel’s rougher hand stroked the curve of my ass. I turned and kissed him too. If I’d had the luxury of time, I would’ve kissed every man in the room.

  “Get out of here!” somebody shouted. “You’re revolting! You’re making us all look bad!”

  “I love you regardless,” I said, although I couldn’t tell who’d just spoken. My gaze swept around the dining room. “Yes, I am revolting. And I wish the rest of you would revolt too. Please, all of you, don’t buy into this. Strive for self-love. You are so worth it. Don’t, don’t lock yourselves in a prison of delusion teetering on some feeble foundation of denial. You’ll be living in a house of cards.”

  Thom Swain managed to sneak up behind me and snap an arm around my waist. I nudged my ass against his crotch. Reflexively, his hips pushed back, if only a little. He sucked in a breath. I considered it a minor victory, and one that came close to turning me on.

  The appearance of Clary Hammer flanked by three members of the local constabulary was enough to keep my dick staring at my toes.

  “OH FUCK, Misha! Fuck!”

  “Sorry, Bree.”

  “You were running around the place buck naked?”

  “Just the dining room.”