“I know,” Ronny said from somewhere behind Steve. “It’s what did me. It’s what I’d come to need too.”
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to get what we want–as much pleasure from it–as we got in that system in prison?”
“Maybe not. Neither of us has been out long. Maybe we’re only good for others like us now. Maybe it’s some big coincidence to have a pair like us–prison-trained master and slave–living in the same county. Working across the street from each other.”
Steve let that hang in the air for a few minutes before speaking again. “But you didn’t stay around. When I woke up, you were gone. And when I came back, looking for you, you weren’t there. I thought I’d gone too far, done too much. I thought you rejected me and were avoiding me. And I don’t have the right to push myself on you. In prison, it’s one guy getting his needs met by meeting the needs of other guys–both needing sex, and the big guy getting his sex and the little guy getting the protection–and the release from responsibility–he needs.”
This would have been the time Steve could mention Ronny getting attacked in the parking lot of the fast-food joint and Steve protecting him, but he hesitated. Would Ronny take that as just trying to make him again? Before he could decide whether to mention it, Ronny was speaking again.
“I know,” Ronny said. “I know how it works there. It worked for me. If Big Russell hadn’t protected me, I couldn’t have survived–or it would be just another Mr. Big who would have me. And if the bigger guys hadn’t taken me as they had, I don’t think I would have ever found full satisfaction of doing it with another guy. If you’d been there and Big Russell wasn’t, you could have been my Mr. Big.”
“That would have been OK with you?”
“That would have been great with me,” Ronny said. “A prison-style master and slave arrangement can mean more than protection for the little guy. It can include the little guy getting his sex too. And I wasn’t avoiding you. You were so zonked, I couldn’t wake you that morning and I had a shift to work. I can’t afford to lose this job. And while I was at work, I got news that my brother had been injured on the job in Charleston and I had to go help him out for a couple of weeks. The burger joint here let me work in one up there for a couple of weeks. I just got back the other day.”
“So, you weren’t avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you, no. And I’m not avoiding you now. Big Steve,” he said. “Turn around Big Steve. And I want you to do me again… now. I want you to be my Mr. Big. But maybe I shouldn’t say that. Maybe we’d both enjoy it more, if I pretended I didn’t want your cock inside me again and you had to fight me to cover me. But I do want you inside me again.”
Steve turned around and looked. Ronny was on his back, reclining against a tree trunk. He’d stripped and was completely naked, his legs bent and spread, his pelvis rolled up to receive what he knew Big Steve was packing.
“Ronny,” Steve muttered in a chocked voice.
“Don’t talk. Come here. Do me. Use me hard. Be my Mr. Big. Fuck me like I’d been tossed into your prison cell and you hadn’t had it for a month. Make me feel it.”
Steve didn’t have to be asked again. He had his jeans and briefs stripped off as he stumbled to Ronny and sank down between the young man’s thighs. He already was in massive erection.
“We got to do this right,” Steve growled. “Fight me. Make me take it. Make it the first time. Me being let into your cell and the door behind us banging shut and lock thrown. Just me and you, me making you my boy–for your first time.”
Going with the scenario, Ronny complied, resisting. He tried to rise, to escape, and Steve backhanded him across the face, stunning him more than hurting him and making Ronny sink back to the ground. Ronny threw up his arms and pulled his knees into his chest, defensively, but not crying out, knowing there was no one there to save him. They struggled, and Big Steve backhanded Ronny across the face again, causing the young man’s body to snap back, his elbows going to the ground under him to keep his head from hitting the tree truck, and his legs to stretch out and spread. Big Steve, in a half crouch, grasped the young man’s butt cheeks and pulled Ronny’s ass up to his erection, putting Ronny’s weight on his shoulders and bringing the young man into full control. Big Steve pushed his knees between the young man’s thighs, grasped Ronny ankles, and wishboned the young man’s legs. Thrusting his hips forward, he penetrated in a brutal thrust.
Ronny cried out and collapsed, going docile, Big Steve in full possession, as the big man took him raw, swiftly, brutally, grasping the younger man’s waist between his hands to hold him in place. Trusting up inside him, deep, as Ronny cried out, “Yes. Yes! Fuck me, Big Steve! Screw me, Master!”
Prison rules. Prison results.
Just as he’d learned to do in the end with any Mr. Big in a prison cell, Ronny hooked his legs on the big man’s hips, pulled himself up to where he was handing off Big Steve’s massive torso, and buried his fingernails in the man’s bulging biceps. He set his hips in motion to go with the rhythm of the fuck. Both of them were transported back to a prison cell in Beckly Camp, on a lower bunk, the searchlights in the yard beaming through the high, barred window, etching the shadows of the bars on their bare, sweating bodies, as Mr. Big covered his boy on the bed, his buttocks in motion in long, hard thrusts, and men came to the bars of their cells up and down the corridor, making music on the bars with tin cups and whistling and chattering, knowing Mr. Big was fucking his boy, egging him on.
“Shit,” Ronny cried out as Big Steve thrust hard and deep.
“Fuck!” he moaned as Big Steve gave him another hard thrust and reached up to clutch the young man’s throat, making him his prisoner, using him hard.
Both men in high, mutually servicing heat. Both of them in their element.
Mr. Big and his protected boy, getting it done. But not just protecting his boy. Giving his boy what he wanted and needed. Using his boy.