The Third Date (Starting Over)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Lily, Grace, Gabrielle and Zoe,” he said. “That’s nice. You need a boy soon, though.”

  “He’ll be a boy,” Kevin said. “Lily, Grace, Gabrielle and Kevin Junior.”

  “We are not having a Kevin Junior!”

  “You might already have a boy,” Gabriel said, gesturing at Gabby. “You never know. She might take after me.”

  “Are you Gabby’s daddy?” Lily asked.

  Gabriel cracked up laughing. Kevin groaned.

  “No, honey.”

  “But she’s white like you.”

  “She’s white like Mummy,” Gabriel said. “Nothing to do with me, darling.”

  “Why?”

  “You know how you need a piece from Mummy and a piece from Daddy to make a baby?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, they have to be different pieces. Like you need a knife and a fork for dinner. Doesn’t work with two forks or two knives. And Mummy and me have the same pieces, so we couldn’t make a baby.”

  “Oh,” she said. “But why’s Gabby so white?”

  “She’s only little,” Gabriel said. “You were very white when you were a baby. And she’s got those lovely dark eyes like you and Daddy, doesn’t she?”

  “I guess…”

  “And I think that’s bedtime for the pair of you,” Kevin said loudly, scooping Grace up off the carpet and blowing a raspberry on her belly. “Come on. Bath time.”

  “I’ll take them,” Judith said, buttoning herself up. “This little madam needs another wash too. Come on, you two. First one to the bath gets to pick which bubbles!”

  Talk about where babies come from was immediately forgotten, as was Jeremy Irons. They tore off upstairs, and Kevin rose from the floor to help Judith out of her chair and start tidying up the mess. He took Gabriel’s plate as well and swiped a path through the toys back from the kitchen. Gabriel reached for the remote, abandoning The Lion King in favour of some La Liga game. He didn’t keep up with football much, but it made for nice background noise.

  Then the bathroom door closed.

  “We’ve got ten minutes,” he said.

  “Ten minutes to w—hey!”

  Kevin’s fists yanked on Gabriel’s T-shirt, hauling him up. The room spun. He was dropped face-down over the arm of the sofa like a rag doll and clung to the cushions in dizzy shock for a moment as his jogging bottoms and briefs were yanked down his legs.

  “No!”

  A hand pressed into the back of his neck, shoving his face into the seat. The sudden shift from laughing friend and father of three to dangerous potential rapist was as dizzying as the head injury, and a thrill shot through Gabriel’s blood even as he fought. He burned hot within seconds, and Kevin’s hard grip did nothing to quench the flash of arousal.

  “Shut up.”

  “P-please, you can’t—”

  His hair was yanked, and the corner of the cushion shoved between his teeth.

  “I said shut up, you fucking whore.”

  The insult went straight to his dick. So did Kevin’s fingers. They rubbed him in hard, punishing strokes that had Gabriel grinding against the sofa in seconds.

  “Knew you wanted it.”

  Metal clinked. Denim scraped the backs of his legs. A leaking head dragged from his dick to his arse, then back in to settle against his cunt. Firm fingers gripped his neck again.

  “Keep your cunt open and your mouth shut.”

  Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut as the enormous head breached him. It was like being fisted. Dry. It hurt, and he whimpered as his lower lips closed around the shaft. No pauses. No time to adjust. Just inch after inch after inch of a dick the size of a forearm, scraping and dragging and forcing its way into him—

  Balls touched his leg.

  Above him, Kevin groaned. Straightened. His dick shifted and Gabriel shuddered violently. He could come if Kevin fucked him right. Rub himself off on the cushions. Just—

  Kevin curled his fingers into Gabriel’s hips and drew back.

  “Quiet,” he hissed.

  Then thrust.

  Hard.

  His dick punched. Gabriel howled. Thankfully in time with a cheer from the football match on the TV. He gasped raggedly as the pressure eased again, then choked on empty lungs when the next thrust came too soon. Too hard. He couldn’t catch his breath, never mind come. Kevin wasn’t fucking him—he was hammering him.

  Gabriel worked the cushion out of his mouth with shaking hands and curled his fists into it instead. His dick was on fire. His cunt shook. He wanted to come, but he was afraid to clench. He wanted to be beaten so there’d be something else to think about except the fuck. He wanted—he wanted—

  The dick tore out of him. He was dragged by the neck, down off the sofa and onto the rug. On his back. A hand clamped around his mouth. A dick forced its way back into his abused pussy and began to pound once more. An immense weight bore down on him, pinning him down, and a wet tongue bathed his ear until he blinked away tears of revulsion.

  “Look at yourself.”

  Gabriel looked down.

  At the hips smashing into his own. At his stomach rippling with every punch. At the gleaming cock sawing him in half. At his tits wobbling between their chests. At his swollen dick, begging to be touched.

  “This is what you’re for, you little cunt.”

  Gabriel moaned.

  “You’re for fucking. You’re built for cock. So when I say you’re to open your legs, you do it. You don’t fucking argue. Got it?”

  Gabriel nodded frantically. The hand vanished. The tongue in his ear slithered into his mouth and he choked on the filthy kiss as the fucking sped up. Fuck, it hurt. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move to take more of it or ease the pain. He could only lie there and be fucked, be violated, be r—

  The thought burst. He shoved a hand between them. The edge of his nail grazed his dick.

  “Fuck!”

  The floor buckled. Kevin’s body slid over his own. The vertigo yawned like an empty abyss—and Gabriel blinked, the climax fading, and he was held by the jaw, finger and thumb digging bruises into his skin.

  He was empty.

  Not wet. Not leaking cum onto the carpet.

  Empty.

  And a long, hard, wet cock was lying on his stomach.

  “Did I tell you that you could come?”

  “N-no, sir,” he whispered.

  “Where do you think this is going now?”

  “No-no-no, please—”

  The hand. Silenced. The tipping room. Rug under his stomach. Air on his arse.

  He cried.

  Sobbed like a child into Kevin’s hand as his arse was split on that truncheon of a cock. Lay there shaking in silent agony as it sank deeper and deeper into him. Listened to the football from a thousand miles away and was jerked back into the present when hot cum stung at his torn backside.

  “Be grateful we don’t have more time,” came the dark warning.

  His jogging bottoms were yanked back up his legs, but his underwear wasn’t returned. He clung to Kevin’s arms as he was lifted back onto the sofa and whimpered when he was buried under an incredible weight and a hand pushed up under his shirt to toy with his nipple.

  “Please…no more…”

  “We’re done when I say we’re done, slut.”

  Fingers pinched. His nipple ached. Gabriel gasped and it was stolen by another dirty kiss. When he tried to pull his head away, it was wrenched back and his tongue bitten.

  “What did I just say?”

  “I’m—I’m sorry—”

  The bathroom door opened. Someone squealed.

  “Daddy, Daddy, come and read me a bedtime story!”

  “Coming!” Kevin yelled and got up off the sofa. Gabriel gasped at the sudden abandonment, brain and body both reeling. Kevin groped his crotch hard, then let go with a low laugh. “We’ll finish this later.”

  “But—”

  “It’s happening whether you like it or not, so I sug
gest you think of ways to be nicer to me so I don’t just shove up it your arse again.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Choose.”

  He stomped off upstairs, leaving Gabriel staring stupidly at the ceiling. His arousal warred with his vertigo, creating a slightly scary disorientation. He’d always been helpless when Kevin fucked him—that was part of the attraction—but it had never felt quite so absolute before. It had never felt quite so dangerous before.

  He jacked off again, fucking himself on wet fingers, as the family moved around upstairs. The second climax rattled a few brain cells back into place, then he wobbled to his feet and clung to the furniture to get into the kitchen and wash his hands. Cum was dribbling down the back of his legs, but he couldn’t do much about it. And no doubt Kevin would punish him if he tried.

  Getting back to the sofa took an age, and he switched the football off to doze on the cushions. Judith was pacing the landing with Gabby, crooning a lullaby. Kevin was doing silly voices in the girls’ room. Gabriel had time. He could just close his eyes for a moment, right?

  “Hey.”

  A hand squeezed his elbow. Gabriel blinked the grit out of his eyes, and Kevin flashed a wide grin.

  “Evening, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Urgh. Sorry. What time is it?”

  “Nearly nine. Come on. I’ll run you home.”

  “M’kay.”

  It took much more effort to get off the sofa the second time. His head spun. Knees buckled. Kevin’s chuckle was low and warm in his ear, and large hands cupped his waist. Gabriel clung for a moment before trying again and was gradually supported out to the car.

  “Back seat,” he whispered.

  “Okay. Need a cushion?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He had to wait in the front while Kevin removed the baby seat, but soon he was laid out across the back, head cupped in a soft pillow and the centre seatbelt knotted around his waist like a harness. He closed his eyes to avoid the shuddering ceiling as Kevin started the car, and drifted to the music. It was all getting easier. He was getting better. It was just—slow. Frustratingly slow.

  The engine died, and he blinked against sleep again as Kevin opened the door by his feet—and climbed in. He snapped the door shut again and crawled up over Gabriel’s body, his massive frame shrinking the space until Gabriel felt like he was being buried alive.

  “What—”

  “Earlier was a little rushed.”

  Thumbs hooked into Gabriel’s jogging bottoms and yanked them down.

  “And you were putting up a fight. You going to do that again?”

  Gabriel arched with a deep groan of pleasure as his abused cunt was stretched once more around a hard dick. His left leg was pinned to the seat back, the right shoved out until his calf hooked around the headrest. Kevin’s weight hurt. His teeth on Gabriel’s nipple, straight through his T-shirt, hurt more.

  “N-no, sir.”

  “That’s more like it. Let’s have a little enthusiasm this time.”

  “Fuck,” Gabriel whispered as Kevin shoved his T-shirt up and began to play with his tits. “Oh fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck—”

  “Fuck what?”

  “Me. Fuck me, sir. Please. Harder. God, yes, just like that—”

  “See? All it takes is a hot cock and you’re moaning like a bitch in heat.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He never got it vanilla off Kevin. There was always an edge. Some kind of pain. Some humiliation.

  And it came in the form of blood.

  Kevin’s teeth were buried in his breast, and the cock inside him sawed in such long, slow, almost lazy thrusts that sex clearly wasn’t the point. And when the pressure around his nipple grew too much, and tears came to Gabriel’s eyes, he realised what was going to happen.

  “Please don’t. Please. It hurts—”

  “Like a little pain’s ever stopped a slut like you.”

  Gabriel gulped for air as he felt the first beads of blood bubbling up through the skin. He didn’t like bloodplay. It was scary. Too real. Too much.

  And he could safeword, he supposed, but there was a better way to stop it.

  As Kevin’s teeth bit down and the blood began to run down Gabriel’s side and pool against his trapped arm, he rocked his hips up into every thrust. He didn’t really have a G-spot inside, but he had a large clit that served just as well as a dick. And in the tight space, it didn’t take too much until Kevin’s washboard abs grazed it with every thrust.

  “Oh fuck,” Gabriel whispered as the blood make Kevin’s teeth slip on his skin. “Harder. Please, God, fuck me harder. Break me open. Make your cum run down to my knees. Harder—”

  Kevin’s control slipped. The next thrust rattled Gabriel’s teeth in his skull. Hands tightened against his ribs.

  “Fuck yes, just like that, show me what a fucking whore I am—”

  He could moan like a porn star if that was what would get Kevin to come faster. He could get himself off on dick if he needed. Around the blur of pain and the sick, slick feeling of hot blood, the electricity was building. A storm was churning. There would be lightning strikes, and—

  “Fuck!”

  Thunder.

  Kevin’s moan rumbled like a breaking storm on a distant horizon. The flood of hot cum in Gabriel’s stretched pussy washed away the sick sensation of the blood on his tits. The messy kiss tasted of copper, and Gabriel opened his mouth and let Kevin’s tongue violate him.

  Because when he pulled out—

  Gabriel came on the hot, slippery rush, his own orgasm so intense that he squirted. Kevin laughed darkly in his ear and wiped it off with his hand. Gabriel was forced to lick it clean, tasting sex and spunk on heated skin, before his legs were tucked back together and his throbbing, oversensitive dick pinched between finger and thumb.

  “What are you, then?”

  “Your whore, sir.”

  “Damn straight. You going to tell me no again?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s get you home to your boyfriend, then. Maybe he’ll want to put his own mark on the other tit.”

  Gabriel tugged his top down as Kevin got out. The fabric was ruined in a matter of minutes. His breast throbbed in agony, both awful and delicious. He tried to ignore the colour.

  Kevin had just pulled over on the side of the road to fuck him, so it was another fifteen minutes home. By then, the pulse of pain was echoing in time with his vertigo, and Gabriel had to be carried to the door. Aled simply raised his eyebrows at the state of him, and he was carried straight up to the master bedroom, the sheets turned down and the TV paused on some sitcom or other. Chris was nowhere to be seen. Maybe that was for the best.

  “Look after yourself.”

  Kevin’s fingers hooked behind his ear, and the kiss—while still tasting of seedy sex in the street—was warm and soft. Gabriel curled his toes and tugged on a stray dreadlock as Kevin pulled away.

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome, sweetheart. See you soon.”

  He passed Aled in the hall, who simply rolled his eyes and offered the first aid kit.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Chris has gone to bed,” Aled remarked. “We didn’t think we’d be getting you back tonight.”

  “They’re taking the kids to the beach tomorrow,” Gabriel said. He wriggled out of his top and tried to relax as Aled wiped down the bites with antiseptic gel and baby wipes. It stung like crazy, and he winced.

  “Uh-huh. What did you do to deserve this?”

  “Put up a fight.”

  “Should know better than that.”

  “Mm. Hey!”

  His legs were pushed open. A baby wipe scraped the mess from his thighs and groin, then a dry finger probed his loose hole.

  “What? I’m not good enough for you after him?”

  “No! It’ll just—it’ll hurt.”

  Aled flicked the plaster over his damaged nipple. “That hurt. You weren’t complaining.”

  “I
was!”

  “You let him fuck you anyway.” The finger slid out. The bed rocked. Then Aled’s hard cock slid in, and Gabriel grimaced at the burn. “Look at me.”

  He opened his eyes, and yelped when Aled’s hand sealed his mouth shut and those fierce eyes hovered just inches from his own.

  “Remember who you belong to?”

  Gabriel nodded as Aled began to leisurely thrust. His cunt gaped. The wet sound was humiliating, and his face burned as Aled chuckled darkly above him.

  “Yeah, that sounds like you hated it. Let’s get you nice and tight again.”

  Gabriel screwed up his face and clenched when Aled slipped the nipple ring out and began to suck on his other tit. Oh fuck. Fuck, this was going to hurt.

  But of course, they knew him. They both did. Knew exactly how and when and why to hurt him. It hurt like hell—and he came before Aled was even close to finishing.

  And after that, he lay drifting in a post-orgasmic haze, the pain prickling the very outsides of his awareness, as his blood stained the sheets and oozed in thick, wet stripes over his abused chest.

  Right where he wanted to be.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was eleven o’clock before Aled’s phone lit up on the table.

  “Gabriel’s up,” he said, but heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll go.”

  Chris just grunted, still trying to scrape a clod of dogshit off his shoe. His morning run hadn’t gone too well.

  Aled climbed the stairs to a surprising quiet and found Gabriel still sprawled out on the bed, topless and littered in bites and bruises. His abused tits were a little puffy, but when Aled touched them with the palm of his hand, he wasn’t decked or sworn at. Though a single eye opened and regarded him with cold superiority.

  “This is your fault,” Gabriel said.

  “You came back fucked-out and horny,” Aled countered. “How about a shower?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay. Up you get.”

  He was fairly steady on his feet, so Aled didn’t get into the shower with him, instead sitting on the closed toilet to keep an eye on him. He rummaged through the first-aid kit while he waited, and once Gabriel stepped out into a warm towel, Aled made him sit on the counter and took care of the bites.