A gay story: Northwind Ch. 4 I’m being trained for something, but I don’t know what it is. This occurred to me this evening, once I’d slept off what I did last night and had a chance to think. I don’t doubt that Zeph enjoys watching me fuck and suck, and get fucked. It’s just that these sessions have taken on an instructive air, ever since that night with Henry. “You take to power well,” Zeph had said after I’d made that bastard suck my dick, and I have to admit it did feel pretty good to watch him crawl on his hands and knees in front of me.
In the nights that followed, I felt like I was being tested. The next time Zephyros came to the manor, he brought me another man like Henry – middle-aged, badly dressed for his outrageous income, pompous and full of himself. I didn’t know this guy per se, but I knew the type. I’d sucked off my share in the days when all that kept me from starving to death was whatever spare change they’d throw at me after coming in my mouth. It wasn’t so long ago that I needed men like him, and I hated them. I hated that, if I didn’t do what they wanted, I’d go hungry and they’d go home to their six digits worth of split level in the hills without giving me a second thought.
The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve come to realize that what I hated was being powerless in the presence of men who should be, in a righteous and sane world, beneath me.
However, I’m getting ahead of myself. Zeph brought me another Henry, and though I didn’t know this one personally, an arrogant bastard who needs to be taken down a peg is an arrogant bastard who needs to be taken down a peg. I’d been given no warning when Zephyros brought him home. He summoned me with a thought after he’d already brought the man to the library, and I joined them there. The mood was set, with a fire burning low in the hearth, and the scent of brandy in the air, coming from a single snifter resting on the sideboard. I knew it was for me, and I plucked it up as I strode in and took one look at tonight’s entertainment. He was neither beautiful nor strapping. This annoyed me.
The events that followed are hazy in my memory. It’s not just the brandy I consumed in daunting quantities, but also that Zeph was there in my mind, and the experience was not mine alone. My annoyance had turned to rage fairly quickly, and I was consumed with a burning hatred for the man I’d never met, because he was like Henry, and the fact that there were more than one like that in the world stung with the resonance of some great injustice. My emotions had become so much stronger since I started feeding from Zeph, and I can honestly say I had never been so furious in my life.
I didn’t dare take it out on Zephyros, but I took great pleasure in taking it out on the man, whom I’ve dubbed the Suit for lack of a better name. Oh, how I made him crawl. When I first told him to get on his knees, he refused, and I struck him a blow across the face that sent him reeling from the unnatural force of it. The twinge of remorse I felt was drowned in a heady rush of lust. I was in control, and it was better than any drug I’d ever tried. The Suit scrambled to his hands and knees, trembling and terrified. I stalked over to him, knelt down to speak quietly in his ear. I wanted to heap insults on him, call him every dirty name in the book, but instead, what came out of my mouth was, “Now be a good boy, and I promise it won’t hurt too badly.”
I immediately darted Zeph an indignant look. He lounged on one of the couches, giving me an angelic expression that could melt a glacier. I could feel him in my mind, though, and the only angel he’d ever resemble would be the fallen variety. His presence was pervasive and powerful, gripping me like a leash around my throat, and I knew that if I crossed a certain line, he would take over, just like he had made my lips speak his words. Even as I stared at him, I could feel my indignation being soothed away. I turned my attention back to the quivering Suit on the floor, and the idea that this wasn’t a bad arrangement slipped so subtly into my thoughts that it could’ve been my own. After all, it wasn’t as if I had been turned into some mindless vessel for my master’s pleasure. Within the boundaries he’d set out, my thoughts and actions were entirely my own.
I should’ve realized then that he was training me for some purpose, but I was mesmerized by the taste of power I’d been given, the freedom to do whatever I wanted with this Suit so long as Zephyros approved, and there was so very much of what I did that night that met with his approval. I couldn’t hurt the Suit, nor could I physically force him to do what I wanted, so I learned how to manipulate him with words, playing off his fears and desires. I came twice that night, first in his mouth after I taunted him into crawling over to where I stood, then again as I rode his dick with all the consideration I’d give a dildo while I jerked off on his chest. Then I got of off him, leaving him so hard and wanting that he finished himself off with his hand while Zeph and I watched. Then Zeph put him down for a nap, and we reveled in each other late into the night, me feeding from his wrist while he stroked my hair and praised me for being a good boy.
The nights that followed were similar. The players changed, but the game remained the same. Zephyros would ride my mind, ready to snap me back into line but otherwise watching to see what I’d do. And me, crazed with lust and raw with the heightened sensations my master’s blood had given me, didn’t care as long as I had my fill of flesh, sweat, and sex. Through these gentle but firm tutorials, I learned about having power over others, and wielding it not only as a tool of revenge, but also a means of coaxing a pretty little thing to greater pleasure, or reining in a beefy stud who’s just aching to be broken. What I learned is that the key to power isn’t the use of force, but in having it and not using it. The things a man will do when he thinks you might harm him are deliciously creative and widely varied compared to what a man will do whom you’ve already hurt. The fear of what might happen, not what has happened, is an excellent motivator.
Keep in mind that I hadn’t left this manor since the night I came here, so when I awoke yesterday afternoon to find clubbing gear laid out by my unseen servants, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t question how the specters with whom I shared this place knew what size I wore, but the sleek black PVC fit snug and perfect. The glossy black boots were comfortable, and fit in such a way as to demand a strong and cocky stride. There were no mirrors, so I admired the ghost of my reflection in the window, backlit by the setting sun. All I could see was an impression of long golden hair and pale skin eclipsed by a shiny black second skin.
It felt good, the way it clung to me, and I must’ve spent nearly an hour simply striding the halls of the manor, my hands moving over my body, reveling in the confinement of the tight clothing and every squeak and creak that came from it whenever I moved. It was dark by the time I felt Zephyros’ presence, urging me to the foyer, where I would meet him and…
He was dressed similarly, leaning against the doorway with a cocky grin playing on his lips. To say he looked good doesn’t do justice to the surge of lust and want that rushed over me, reined in by his will, not mine. As I stood there quivering against the confinement he’d put on my mind, he sauntered over, slipped his arms around me, and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. I couldn’t do anything more than whimper, and the frustration was maddening. “We’re going out,” he informed me quietly, stepping away and turning to open the door. “Get in the car.”
My legs moved, and I let them, but they were following orders from him, and I had the distinct impression I was currently only along for the ride. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do. It had been so long since I felt the ground beneath my feet. Sure, the balconies offered plenty of fresh air and chances to be outdoors and enjoy the manor’s gardens, but it’s different when the hedgerows and rosebushes are all around you, not somewhere vaguely below.
We passed a row of white hyacinths as he led me to his car, parked at a jaunty angle in the cracked and weed-grown driveway. My senses, already strengthened, were amplified by the sheer excitement of being outside, and the flowers’ scent hit me with a dizzying sweetness. Had I been my mere mortal self, I might’ve fainted from the onslaught of sensations. As it was, I could barely fumble the seat belt into place once I got in the car. Zephyros revved up the engine and began to pull onto the main road. Of course he was cool and calm. For him, leaving the house wasn’t a once in a god-knows-how-many years event.
A disconcerting silence settled over us as he drove and I, slumped sideways in my seat, stared out the window at the passing scenery. There was no point in conversing; once a question formed in my mind, he would plant the answer there.Where are we going? To a club. Why a club? You’ll see. Am I in trouble? No, my Hyacinthus. You’re not in trouble. Streetlights flickered the rows of houses and trees in darkness and lurid orange light. How far outside of town were we? I couldn’t remember ever having been here before.
Once we reached the club, I realized that our arrival there was little more than a fog in my memory. Zephyros. What, did he think I was going to try to escape, after all this time? That I would have somewhere in the city to return to even if I could find my way back again? But his mind was closed to me. He didn’t want my night out to become a lover’s spat and, not knowing when I’d get another, neither did I.
The club was dark, a packed room with flickering strobes silhouetting swaying bodies. There was a time when this would’ve been my scene, but my first instinct was that of an animal – to run, to hunker down in a corner and hide. Again Zeph was in my mind, propping me up on my feet, stifling the rising panic and soothing my nerves. His thoughts were like a drug, numbing my body and easing my mind. I needed him like a junkie needs a needle, and like anyone deep in his addiction, I didn’t care about anything he might do to me, as long as I had him.
The place was a sea of leather and PVC, silvery chains and caked on make-up. It was sleazy and beautiful. That I didn’t recognize the music didn’t bother me, despite there having been a time when I knew every band. The sound was more than just raw noise – a sensual heartbeat pulsing through my body. How had I ever lived before, with five dull senses and no one inside of me but me? Zephyros didn’t say a word, but I knew what he wanted.Find something nice, and get it alone. We drifted through the crowd, which seemed unconscious of how it parted in our wake. I, floating on the pleasant haze of my master’s presence and cased the bar, where pretty boys flirted and dumb jocks showed off. They were alright, but nothing I hadn’t had before.
Then I saw him.
He was cute in a boy-next-door kind of way, leaning against the bar with a glass clasped in his hand. He looked out of place in jeans and a t-shirt, and his expression told me he had no idea why he’d even come. I made my way toward him, and our eyes met. His were warm and brown, honest in a ‘good boy in a bad place’ way. He smiled. I remembered to do the same with some prompting from Zeph, who let me lead and followed up behind.
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to keep the impatience from my voice. I’d found what I wanted, now I wanted it. Zephyros chided me,you really need to learn how to play with your food.
“Eric,” he replied.
I smiled despite myself. I sidled in beside him at the bar, and the leather-clad punk lounging there got out of my way. “So, Eric. How fast can you pound down that drink so you can dance with me?” A fear of rejection was for people who weren’t me.
Eric stammered a bit, then gulped down the last of what smelled like a rum and coke. He set the glass on the bar, and I snaked an arm around his waist to draw him onto the dance floor. Zephryos was a shadow riding my mind, staying out of the way. He always did like watching.
Out on the floor, closed in by the press of bodies, I cupped my hands over Eric’s ass and moved in time to the music. Fuck dancing, I wanted to feel this guy’s body, and from what I could tell, I wouldn’t be disappointed. Nice muscles, not too buff. His scent was incredible, all sweat and aftershave, with an undertone of musty wood bark. “Landscaping?” I asked as I slowly but surely let our gyrating steer us closer to an alcove off to one side of the floor.
“How did you know?” he laughed, and his tickle of breath on my throat caused my dick to press against the confines of the tight PVC I was wearing.
“Just a guess,” I replied innocently. Great minds think alike, I could tell. As we drew closer to the alcove, I caught a glimpse of Zephyros there, flashing me a smile across the crowded room. When we arrived though, and I took Eric by the hand to draw him into the dark little nook, Zeph was nowhere in sight. I could feel him nearby, a teasing presence in the back of my mind, but clearly he didn’t want my new friend to know about him. There’s something delicious about a secret, and this unexpected spin made the game all the more fun.
“So what do you do for a living?” Eric prompted, and his voice caught slightly . A total stranger had just stolen him into a dark alcove, the one place in this crowded club that wasn’t occupied. I can’t imagine why he might’ve been a little nervous.
It was a complicated question, and I answered it by kissing him, working my tongue between his lips, decisively if not roughly. He tensed up at first, but then he started to relax, and I reveled in the way his body melted against mine, and his hands cautiously explored the slick PVC coating my skin.He wants this, I realized.He wants me.
Of course he does, came Zephyros’ voice in my mind. I laughed softly, breaking the kiss and gathering my namesake up in my arms.
“You could have anyone you wanted in this club,” he murmured against my ear, sounding mystified.
“I intend to,” I purred, and my fingers hooked on the zipper of his jeans, easing it open.
He went wide eyed and drew away. “This isn’t that kind of place,” he insisted.
Though I adored the way his voice squeaked as he said it, this wasn’t getting me laid. The urge to snarl, ‘well it is now,’ push him against the wall, and strip him down was strong, but Zeph’s presence in my mind was stronger, reining me in, coaching patience. So instead, I smiled with a calculatingly coy tilt of my head and said smoothly, “Then why don’t we go somewhere quieter?”
I may not have had Zeph’s ability to seize the mind, but a pair of baby blues and a sweet smile can get a boy what he wants. Eric followed me out of the club after hastily zipping up, and I was poignantly aware of the straining denim against his crotch. My mind raced with thoughts of where I could take him that was close by, and Zephyros supplied me helpfully with the knowledge of an abandoned warehouse across the alley.
The night air was cold on my flushed faced as we left the noise of the club behind us. The warehouse by comparison was a lonely and silent tomb, dusty with old cobwebs as even spiders had abandoned this condemned place. Getting in wasn’t a problem – with my strength, ripping off a few boards nailed over a door was like tearing open a bag of chips, and with Zephyros’ gift for manipulating the mind, anyone nearby simply failed to look in our direction. My poor namesake didn’t seem to know what to make of the situation, but he stayed close to my side as we slipped in unseen.
I could feel Zephyros trailing us, but I couldn’t see him. Even my sensitive hearing could only barely pick up his footfalls, and poor Eric seemed clueless. He shivered in the cold, and I drew him closer in the crook of my arm as I led him to a pile of broken down crates and sackcloth heaped in the shadows cast from where a part of the roof had caved in. He staggered and leaned against me heavily – my eyes had adjusted well to the darkness, but as I glanced over to his face, I saw him staring blindly, and I felt a twinge of pity. “Come on,” I said gently, taking his hand and laying it upon the sturdiest of the crates. He groped for it eagerly and felt his way along to a place where he could sit. I sat beside him, took his hand again, and found myself unsure of what to do. Zeph was there in my mind, but he had gone quiet, poised and waiting to see where I’d take things.
“So…” Eric prompted, and in the awkward silence that followed, we both laughed and relaxed some.
“I’m not good at small talk,” I mentioned apologetically.
I glanced down and watched his fingers twine around mine as he replied, “Oh, I don’t know. You were doing pretty well back at the club.”
The urgency that had brought me to this moment had faded, and without Zeph guiding me, I was suddenly at a loss and somewhat afraid of this boy-next-door with the warm smile and pretty eyes. In the dark, his face was a ghostly shadow, his expression open and honest, trusting that I was as blind as he, and he was smiling serenely as he stared into the shadows. I didn’t have to ask to know that he wasn’t the kind of guy who fucked around. There was a sweet nervousness about him, and the way he dressed wasn’t peddling flesh. Compared to the nameless slabs I’d nailed for so long, he was achingly and intoxicatingly real. There was a wistful quality to him, not like someone hoping to get some, but more like he was searching for something deep and substantial. Then again, aren’t we all?
I still wanted to fuck him, but I also wanted to know him, and that wasn’t something I’d never dealt with before. My mouth went uncharacteristically dry, and my voice trembled as I said, “You know, if you don’t want to…”
But he put a finger to my lips and replied wryly, “You think I followed you here to pick out china patterns?” He gave a quick shake of his head, tousling his brown curls, and leaned in to kiss along my throat, adding, “It’s okay. I want this.”
I pulled him closer, and our lips met. Blind lust had become such a part of me, it didn’t take long to make up my mind, and he, having already decided what he wanted to do, didn’t waste any time. The crates creaked beneath us, and the sackcloth staved off the worst of the splinters. It was a clumsy fumble as he struggled with each others’ clothing, and I won the race, unzipping his jeans and practically lunging for his cock, engulfing it in my mouth. He was only partially erect, but as I pushed him back onto the crates and swirled my tongue along his shaft, he started to harden the rest of the way. God, how delicious it was, the taste of his skin, and the feeling of my mouth being stretched as I tried to contain his entire length. He whimpered helplessly, curling his fingers through my hair as he writhed beneath me, causing the aged wood to groan and complain.
It was the only sound in the warehouse, save for our labored breathing and his quiet pleas. He wanted to get off so badly, but I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted it to last, to drive him insane. I wanted to be the best he’d ever had, the best he’d ever have. So I teased his dick with my tongue, sucking him in as I swallowed him into my throat, then easing off to do it again. When I cupped his balls in my hand and gave them a squeeze, he practically melted, but only for a moment before he was squirming again.
When I could tell he was getting close, I drew off of him entirely, and he yelped with dismay, reaching for me as I pushed away. “I want to fuck you,” I panted as I worked open my pants – I’m all about the romance. The PVC was so tight, and cock was straining so hard against the material, it wasn’t easy, but once I got unzipped, my erection practically sprang out. With a sigh of relief, I collapsed onto the crates, splaying on my back and reaching for him. He was quick on the uptake, and I didn’t have to say a word – his lips wrapped around my cock in a heartbeat, and I was in heaven.
He may not have been the type who was out looking for a fuck, but someone had taught this guy how to suck dick. Plus, he’d come prepared. As his head bobbed up and down, he fumbled in his pocket for a condom and clasped it in one hand while the other wrapped around the base of my shaft, and he started to deep throat me. A trace of annoyance tempered the pleasure his warm, wet mouth was giving me. While I approved of using protection in theory, I didn’t want to bother with a condom. But what was I going to tell him? That I knew I was clean because I couldn’t catch diseases? It was only momentarily irksome anyway, because that boy could do things with his tongue that could put anything else out of your mind.
I had to push him away, because after he hit that sweet spot right on the underside of my cock’s head, I came dangerously close to not needing that condom after all. He had me breathing raggedly slick with sweat, and so worked up that even the cold air on my dick felt wonderful when he leaned back and worked on opening the condom wrapper. It was a gold coin, unlubed, and as I reached for it, he shook his head and whispered, “I want to show you something.”
So I leaned back, propped on my elbows, and watched with amazement as he gave my cock a quick lick, then laid the condom against his lips. I couldn’t believe it, but he leaned down and began to suck me into his mouth again, rolling the condom on with his lips, tongue, and gentle, precise suction. Through the latex, I could feel every little manipulation, and I quickly forced myself to think of something grotesque to keep from coming. Ah, yes. I’d finally found a use for Henry after all. Even remembering sucking him off couldn’t kill a boner entirely, but it was enough to keep me from shooting then and there. My namesake finished rolling the condom on, and held me in his mouth for a moment, breathing through his nose and just engulfing me in his warmth. The image of his dark curls tumbling over his brow, and his gorgeous lips locked around the base of my shaft was incredible. I had to think Henry thoughts all over again.
Eventually the torture subsided, and he drew back slowly, gazing toward me with glassy eyes that didn’t quite focus in the dark. I reached for him without a word, and as smoothly as if we’d choreographed it, I got up from the crates and bent him over them, where he twisted his hands in some sackcloth and braced himself. Then I pushed down his jeans and pressed in close to him. It’s not like I’d never bent anyone over before, but god, he was beautiful, the way his back curved, and the broad set of his shoulders straining through the flimsy cotton of his shirt. I took it all in as I spat on my fingers and worked them along his crack, finding and probing his tight opening.
“You ready?” I whispered, leaning down to nip at his ear. Some detached part of me noted almost coldly that I’d never asked that with the others.
By way of reply, he rocked his ass against my probing fingers, grinding his hips and moaning softly. If that wasn’t a yes, I didn’t know what was. It was an effort of will, but I pushed my cock into him slowly. I didn’t want to hurt him. I had to have him, but not at the price of his pain. I shouldn’t have worried. He was tight, but he knew how to take a dick, and as I eased into him, he pushed back against me until I was lodged fully inside of him. I could feel muscles tighten and squeeze around me, a hot velvety vise. The ripples of pleasure coursing through my skin hit my bloodstream like wildfire, bringing every nerve alive. This was my life, that constant need for gratification, and when I could feel it coming, the world was all brightness and fire, even in the darkest shadows.
When I drew back and thrust into him, he arched his back and tossed his hair, bracing himself to meet my strokes, which started so slowly but picked up pace as the fleeting grasp I had on control began to unravel. I pushed harder, and he cried out, but before I could do anything, the words, “Don’t stop,” tumbled from his lips on a broken moan. It had to have hurt. I knew my strength, and I wasn’t holding back. Neither was he, and with every downstroke, his body trembled, his muscles squeezing and spasming around my cock. It felt like he was coming, and his cries sounded like it, but I hadn’t even touched his dick. Like I was going to stop and ask? I couldn’t even think for the pleasure, and for what seemed like a small eternity, the only thing in the world was that unspeakable sensation, growing stronger and stronger, until it trembled through me and peaked in an explosion so intense I’d never felt anything like it.
Reality seemed to settled around us gradually. I was dimly aware of pulling out of him, of peeling off the condom and tossing it aside. I must’ve crawled up beside him, because when his kisses returned me to myself, he was gathered up in my arms, and I was stroking his hair. There were tears in his eyes, and he was shaking. Maybe I’d really hurt him, or maybe I was just that good.
“Will I ever see you again?” he whispered, and his voice was raw and aching.
Every ounce of me wanted to say yes, immediately. The word was on my lips, with no thought to how it would be possible. My namesake had made me do something I’d never done in all the time that Zephyros had kept me; I’d completely forgotten about him.
“Eric.” The voice was passionless, and it echoed eerily through the sagging walls of the warehouse.
We both looked up, but while I spotted Zephyros immediately, standing some ten paces away with a face that was a mask of cold fury, the other Eric, my Eric, kept tracking his gaze through the darkness and fixing on nothing. When I started to speak, Zephyros cut me off, the words piercing my mind so sharply I could’ve sworn they’d drawn blood. Get in the car. He didn’t take his eyes off the trembling brunette beside me.
I didn’t move of my own volition, but I did move. My hands refastened my PVC and smoothed it out, and I rose from the crates, my feet taking steps as if they’d been programmed to do so whether I wanted them to or not. I could hear Eric behind me, plaintive as he asked, “Where are you going?” I passed by Zephyros, who hadn’t so much as blinked, and his eyes were fixed on the poor man with a look of peculiar interest. I kept going, out of the warehouse and into the night.
That’s all I remember. I awoke this afternoon in my room in the manor, hungry for blood, and feeling like a naughty boy who’d been sent to bed without his supper. Zephyros is training me for something, and I don’t know what. All I know is that, last night, something backfired.