Ronny had had a few protectors in prison before Big Russell said to call him that and stared down any and all others who might have objected, and he hadn’t been a virgin or still thought he had anything to protect before Big Russell had covered and owned him. By then Ronny had come to accept his lot in life and had opened his mouth to the big man’s cock and lain on his back and opened his legs to the man docilely and without fuss. Still, Big Russell had beat him down and taken him hard that first time, making quite clear who was master and who was slave.
Ronny had become adjusted and groomed to this, and although he’d had a few encounters after leaving prison, they hadn’t gone too well. Too much had been expected from him. He had been trained to just lie down and open his legs and to let the other man do it all. And that’s how he was responding to this new Mr. Big. It was almost with relief. Big Steve was one big, beautiful bruiser anyway, but he was a man from the world Ronny had become accustomed and adjusted to. If he gave the commands…
Big Steve had said Big Russell could take care of himself. That meant he had found and chosen another boy–maybe more than one by now–Ronny thought. “Good to hear,” he said, “about Big Russell being settled. He say anything about me calling you Big Steve when we met?”
“Yeah, he did. He’s the one who suggested it. We were good friends and he said he was sure you’d like me–that I’d take good care of you. So, what is it you’d like to call me? Do you like the look of me or not?”
Ronny hesitated, but then he said, “I guess Big Steve would be good then.” There, it had been established–at least enough for a first fucking to determine it was something they’d both want more of. Ronny was in need, and this was a big, strapping hunk.
This was coming from a different world–the prisons. Hookups were made as quickly and casually as this, and sometimes they were consummated on the spot if and as there was a window on opportunity. Once you’d been made someone’s boy, as Ronny had been by Big Russell, it wasn’t so much if you’d give it on demand as it was how that fit into the pecking order with your Big. Big Russell had been one to like to watch a friend do Ronny before mounting him himself, so Ronny saw nothing peculiar in Big Steve being sent to mount him too. Big Russell had sent this guy to him, and he wasn’t the jealous type, so that established what Ronny’s Big approved.
“He talks about you. He’s got another boy, of course, but he talks about you a lot. He says he’d never had a boy as good as you.”
The pecking order established here, both men were comfortable with returning to the mundane.
“Yeah, well. We can get you fixed up,” Ronny said. “My cabin’s not far down this road. I’ve got an extra gas tank there and we can get your cellphone recharged. I don’t got much in, and I’m not much of a cook, but it’s suppertime. I’ll find something as long as you’re not picky. We can have something to eat and we can talk about Camp Beckley, do whatever you want, and then I can bring you back here and give you enough gas to make it back to Lewisburg. Hop in my truck.”
“I can make a meal out of most anything,” Spander said. “That’s what I do now. Learned it in the pen. I cook at Sloan’s Steakhouse in Lewisburg. Thanks for the invite. I’ll do the cooking.”
Sloan’s Steakhouse was right across the street from the fast-food joint Ronny worked at. He wouldn’t reveal that, though. This guy, Steve, who seemed to be OK, was still someone it was best to stay from if Ronny wanted to break away from his old habits. The man didn’t seem judgmental, though. He quite evidently knew exactly what Big Russell and Ronny had been to each other–protector and eventually willing sex slave–and it didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, judging by the looks he gave Ronny, it gave him good reason to be out here in an isolated forest. Big Steve knew Ronny would be easy, and this had proved to be the case.
Ronny took another look at the guy sitting next to him in the truck cab. He could be some small jailbird’s protector too as far as Ronny could discern. He used the “Big” name, so, in prison terms, that’s what he was–a top-of-the-walk cell leader. Had there been any question Ronny would let the man fuck him? Who was he kidding? He’d been programed to go along, lay down, and open his legs. And Ronny hadn’t had a satisfying fuck since he’d been in the pen. He’d learned there to want the top to take it from him. He hadn’t met anyone since prison who did that for him.
There wasn’t much in Ronny’s refrigerator or on his shelves to make a meal of, but he had to admit that Big Steve made a mean omelet out of what he could find. They talked for more than an hour at the table while they ate, eventually dancing around what Big Russell and Ronny’s arrangement had been in prison and what Ronny had been in for. Big Russell, like Big Steve, had been in for running with gangs that did armed robberies, and Ronny had been in for holding the drugs his boyfriend had been pushing, with the boyfriend disappearing and leaving Ronny to answer for it all. They also openly talked about how Ronny had got along with someone to protect him.
Even without admitting it, Big Steve would know that Ronny survived in prison by lying on his back, opening his legs, and taking what was shoved into him.
Of course, Ronny didn’t need the protection he’d needed in prison now, he said, but still, being a small, shy, good-looking guy, he got pushed around a bit in Lewisburg, which could be a rough town.
“So, are you getting it the way you want it here?” Big Steve asked.
“Not really,” Ronny answered.
“You’re a small guy. Big Russell’s got a giant snake of a one. You had problems taking–?”
“No, not after a while. You saying you’ve got–?”
“Yep,” the answer was accompanied by a grin. “He told me you could and that you could ride it like a rodeo star, but I thought I should ask.”
The conversation started to go further into the sexual aspects of the young man’s life in the here and now, but Ronny redirected the conversation. He, in fact, had been feeling the isolation of not having a man–a rough, dominated man–but his probation officer, without knowing there was a sexual angle to this, had convinced him that he needed to completely change his life.
It was too late for Ronny to go heterosexual, though. He’d been too indoctrinated into the gay submissive life.
Truth be known, he had learned to enjoy lying under Big Russell, and this guy with his feet under his table, this Big Steve Spander, was a lot like Big Russell and he aroused Ronny. Going with him would be going back to what Ronny had known in the pen, though, and he needed to fight his instincts. But, yes, this now was up to Big Steve Spander. When he made the moves, Ronny would let the man fuck him.
When they started to move their dishes to the kitchen sink, Steve declared he’d do the cleanup and Ronny said he’d go out by the river and take a smoke.
“That isn’t pot, is it?” Steve asked as he came upon Ronny sitting with his back against the tree and looking down, across the railroad tracks to the bank of the Greenbrier River.