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Micheal threw back the rest of his drink and squeezed his eyes shut as he swallowed, trying to power through the burn that took hold of his throat soon after. He set the glass down on the bar and looked at it. Empty. He strangely felt the same way.
The bar was lively, like it should be on a Friday night. Micheal was still in his work attire, a nice suit the color of a midnight sky with matching pants, along a pressed white shirt adorned by a striped tie. The whole get up looked great together, but it seemed to be wearing Micheal, instead of the other way around. Made sense really, he saw some resolute-looking model wearing the thing in some dumb catalog and figured he'd try to replicate what he saw. Unfortunately, confidence wasn’t on the item list with an unreasonable price typed underneath it in dainty print.
Micheal adjusted his small, fragile lenses and scoffed a laugh of disbelief.
He should be the happiest man in the world. He’s got the top paying job, the high rise apartment, the blonde, thin fiancée — what more could he possibly want?
Figures that was the problem. Micheal couldn’t figure out why he felt so…suffocated. It was like he was trapped inside a giant hourglass, the sand sprinkling ever so gently atop his blond head. It was fine at first, got his leather loafers a little dirty, but eventually the sand had grown to submerge his entire body and it was like he didn’t even realize it was up to his neck now.
It was just all happening so fast.
He was twenty seven years old and the rest of his life was already figured out for him. Marriage, promotion, kids, promotion, work, work, work, retirement, death. There was no doubt about it.
For some reason, Micheal just couldn’t find comfort in the comfort of his life. It was just too soft. Too lacy and expensive. Like he might break something worth a fortune if he didn’t tip toe around his entire life, day in and day out.
He just wished he could, I don’t know…
Live a little.
And maybe that’s the reason why he was at this bar on a Friday night downing his second scotch instead of having dinner with his future in-laws to discuss wedding arrangements. He had lied on the phone and said he was working late and couldn’t make it. The guilt made him sweat so bad he had to go splash cold water on his face in the men’s restroom. Funnily enough, when he stared at his drenched face in the bathroom mirror he found himself grinning like mad, stifling genuine, bright laughter.
He didn’t really have a plan for tonight. Micheal figured he’d get himself drunk and take a walk outside, maybe buy a pack of Newports like he used to smoke before Ruth nagged him off the habit. Then he’d walk some more, think about how a horribly ungrateful person he was while coughing out smoke, and call a cab to end the night passed out on his couch.
“Another scotch please,” he called over to the bartender with a flick upwards of the head.
“Don’t do that,” a husky voice spoke from behind him.
Startled, and not sure if the voice was addressing him or not, Micheal turned around. A man with jet black hair who looked like he owned a safe with a gun inside locked away somewhere in his place of residence was staring down at him. He grinned, blue eyes sparkling with something electric and so incredibly wrong within them. The man waved off the bartender and just like that, prevented Micheal from getting his scotch.
Just like that.
“The scotch here is terrible,” he said, coming to sit at the empty stool next to Micheal. He was wearing crisp slate pants and a grey blazer that was all angles in his elbows and shoulders. Underneath he had a tight, black, low-cut shirt. Unlike Micheal, the man’s clothes were a close match to the body wearing them, on him they felt natural.
“Oh,” Micheal laughed awkwardly, realizing he was staring at the man’s clothes instead of his face.
“Y’know, most of the liquor here is watered down, not the best really,” the man added with tsk, tapping his fingers on the bar top.
“Well then why are you here?” Micheal found himself asking him.
The man shrugged, “the bar owner owes me money.”
The man simply smiled again and Micheal just couldn’t help but feel like he probably shouldn’t be talking to this guy. Micheal continued the conversation regardless.
“Can I ask why?” he played with his empty scotch glass and cocked his blond head with a coy smile.
The man let out a laugh and stared at him for a beat with an intrigued, tensed brow.
“You’re not supposed to be here right now, aren’t you?” he replied.
Micheal ran a hand through his sandy waves, more nervous laughter tumbling out of his mouth, “no, I guess not.”
“Let me guess,” the man said eagerly.
He gave Micheal a good look up and down, meeting his eyes in a way that had Micheal gripping the empty glass in his hands a bit tighter than expected.
“Hmm, you…skipped out on dinner with your wife because you hate white wine and hate her unabating personality even more?” he said triumphantly.
This made Michael laugh, all squinty-eyed and tipsy, “close, a dinner with my fiancée and her parents.”
The man tilted up his head with a sarcastic “ah, I see.”
“So, what’s in it for you tonight?” he flicked his eyebrows up.
“Going to get wasted? Pick up a chick? Slip off your ring, fuck her brains out, then meet your girl for breakfast the next day?” he shrugged, saying all of this so matter-a-factly.
Micheal looked at him wide eyed. He couldn’t help but feel so scandalized at his blatant vulgarity. But somehow, also found himself admiring how easy he seemed to describe such an immoral, awful act. He’d probably done the very same thing a hundred times before.
Micheal let go of his glass and played with his striped tie, “not exactly, I didn’t really have much of a plan besides…drinking shitty scotch I guess,” he smiled down at his tie.
The man laughed, his sharp canines white and sexy.
“Would you like that to change?”
Micheal lifted his head up and met the man’s gaze once more — and he found himself inexplicably charmed, intrigued, and borderline entranced.
“I know a place where they have a fantastic glass of scotch—on me,” the man reached out his hand.
Micheal eyed his hand, and for once in his life, decided to live a little.
He took his hand and shook it, “sure.”
“Oh—um Hi, I’m Micheal by the way,” he added with another shy smile.
The man grinned like a hungry coyote back at him.
“Alex.”
…
Following Alex out of the bar, Micheal couldn’t help but let out a “no fucking way” when he laid his eyes upon Alex’s car.
“Like it?” Alex asked, opening the passenger door to his gray, sex magnet of a convertible.
Michael looked at him confused before the car’s keys were being tossed at his head.
“You drive,” Alex said, hopping in and resting an elbow atop the car’s door.
Micheal let out a hesitant “alright,” and got in the driver’s seat.
As Micheal drove to wherever Alex was taking him, he felt like he had somehow fallen asleep at the bar and this was some weird, alcohol induced dream.
“C’mon faster,” Alex said loudly over the blowing warm air that caressed their faces and hair as Micheal made his way down the street.
Micheal shot him a glance and pressed his foot down harder on the pedal, quickly speeding up. His heart began to hammer and he found himself grinning, watching all the neon lights streak past him so beautifully amidst the cool summer breeze.
As they whizzed down the road, Micheal let out an exhilarated, loud laugh and turned his head over to look at Alex to share the sentiment. He wasn’t looking at Micheal however, he had his head down and was sniffing something. Alex suddenly popped his head back up and shook it violently. Micheal realized what he was doing and quickly turned his attention back towards the road.
It was too late though, Alex had already noticed.
Alex eyed Micheal's nervous demeanor and laughed to himself, stricken. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he was set on doing for the rest of the night.
Naturally not wearing a seat belt, Alex shifted closer to Micheal and pointed, “turn left.”
Micheal nodded and did so.
Alex didn’t move away.
“Have you ever done it?” he spoke in Michael’s ear.
Micheal swallowed hard.
“Done what?” he responded.
“Don’t act stupid Micheal, it makes you look like a pussy,” Alex murmured in his ear.
Micheal gripped the steering wheel. He shouldn’t be here. He should be sitting at an intricately set table complimenting the roast lamb and looking over acceptable fonts for wedding invitations.
And here he is, drinking and driving alongside some stranger he met less than an hour before as said mystery man offers him actual cocaine. Y’know? Like the stuff they arrest people for on Miami Vice and shit?
“…I’ve never done it,” he mutters, eyes on the road.
“Keep straight,” Alex instructed, glancing forwards.
He flicked his gaze back towards Michael and stared at his cute little lenses.
Alex closed back in on Micheal’s ear, forcing Micheal to furrow his brow as he tried his absolute hardest to not hit anything with the car.
“I’m not greedy Micheal,” he smiled against his turned blond head.
“Take a right,” he added, not leaving his ear.
Micheal's heart raced. His eyes hadn’t left the road since he caught Alex snorting the coke, but the illicit sight was all he could think about as he sped down the city’s nighttime scenery.
Alex waited for Micheal’s response and when he didn’t answer, rolled his eyes with a scoff of a laugh.
“Would you like to try some of my oh so taboo cocaine, Micheal?” he said, loud and proud.
Fuck, Micheal thought.
Just fuck.
“Ah, sure…yes,” he replied.
“Good answer Mike,” Alex patted him on the shoulder.
And so Micheal finally turned his head over to Alex and before he knew it, was snorting powder from a miniscule golden spoon in Alex’s hand.
And for a second, Micheal thought he’d start crying out of fear that he might die somehow with what he just did before something happened.
Suddenly, Micheal found himself laughing like an absolute madman, going the fastest he’s ever driven in his whole life down a long, empty, urban street.
This time when he turned his head over to Alex, he was looking back at him. Alex laughed brightly and wrapped a strong arm around Micheal’s neck.
Blond and Black cruising completely wired in three thousand pounds of pure steel. Careful blinking or you might miss them.
…
“Fuck, you’re completely right,” Micheal slammed down his glass.
“I told you, best scotch there is,” Alex quipped, clinking his glass against Micheal’s.
“They get it straight from Scotland, from some small village in the middle of nowhere, more sheep than there are people,” Alex raised a brow before taking a sip.
Micheal laughed stupidly at this joke, clearly a little off the deep end.
“So, tell me Alex. What do you do besides drive fast cars and know all about scotch?” he wagged his head.
“Well, a little bit of this and some of that too, but mostly I just hang around bars at night trying to look like a cool asshole,” Alex replied, setting his glass down and propping his elbow on the bar counter, resting his head in his hand.
This new bar was less of a pub and more like a fancy art club. Alex knew the bouncer and let them both in with a simple wave. The music wasn’t gravelly with hard rock streaking in your ear like before. No, the music here was more synthy, smooth, sultry.
“I think you pull off cool asshole very well,” Micheal remarked, taking more of the scotch. It was remarkably strong.
“Thanks. What about you? Are you content with your tired lawyer get up?” Alex chuckled.
“Well, first of all I’m a stockbroker and second of all…not in the slightest,” Micheal peered at him through the tops of his lenses with a playful look.
“Okay, tired stockbroker.”
Alex stared down again at Micheal.
Micheal found his face go hot as he did so, too much scotch probably.
“Suits’ pretty good…unfortunate tie,” Alex gave him another tsk and brought his glass back up to his mouth.
“Next time I’ll go for the shoulder pads,” Micheal snorted, drinking more of his scotch.
“Good idea, everyone at the office will just be itching to rip those foam blocks off your body with their bare teeth,” Alex squinted with finesse.
Micheal laughed hard again, and realized he couldn’t stop laughing. He turned his body back to the bar and continued to laugh, head buried in his arms.
“Feeling funny there Mike?” Alex leaned over and spoke close to him.
“I don’t know,” Micheal said, muffled.
He lifted his head up to gaze at Alex, head still resting in his arms. Alex’s face looked so different in the hazy lighting of the club. He appeared so solid and picturesque.
He looked fucking handsome.
“I’ve just…never felt this way.”
“What way?” Alex smirked.
“Just good. Like I’m actually here, y’know? Like I didn’t even realize I can just do anything I want,” Mike replied, lenses crooked.
“It’s freeing isn’t it?” Alex smiled, reaching over to steal Micheal’s glasses.
He looked through them and furrowed a brow, “Jesus Christ, you can see with these? Just how blind are you?”
“Hey!” Micheal giggled, reaching up and trying to take them back.
Just then, Alex straightened up and yanked them high up so Micheal couldn’t reach, grinning wide eyed with a playful “ah!”
“Give them back asshole!” Michael laughed, also straightening upwards and reaching farther up.
“It’s cool asshole to you,” Alex responded, bringing his arm a bit more backwards, away from Micheal’s reach.
At this, Micheal leant forward in his seat and set a hand on Alex’s chest for support while he tried to nab his glasses back.
Micheal realized this and met Alex’s eyes soon after, hand still on his bare chest. The act made his stomach turn so much so that his hand jumped off of Alex and he leaned away so fast he almost fell off his stool.
Alex, hand up in the air, merely looked at the suited mess next to him and smiled; he was really feeling it tonight and the coke had him extra bold.
He placed Micheal’s lenses on the bar calmly and grabbed his glass.
Alex looked at Micheal a little more intensely, glints of something possessive flashing in his blue irises.
“Finish your scotch,” he said, with a bit of heaviness in his voice, a bit more force behind it.
And so Micheal did, he grabbed his glasses and downed the rest of his scotch, trying not to think about the feeling of Alex’s skin touching his like that. He’s never had thoughts like that before. Maybe he should order more scotch.
As Alex emptied his glass, he set it down with a labored sigh and a “well, looks like we’re out of liquor.”
Micheal nodded to agree with that inherently sweet smile of his.
Tapping his finger again on the counter, Alex gazed at its smooth, marble surface and spoke.
“Look Mike. I live right above this club and it’s getting a little too loud in this shithole, starting to hurt my head, so would you mind coming up with me?”
What an offer. Micheal adjusted his tie; he really wanted to say yes and that frightened him immensely. Another unwise idea added to the slew of bad decisions he’s made tonight. He still didn’t know this man at all, not even his last name. Micheal could have his throat slit upstairs for all he knew.
“Sounds good, too many fucking people around here anyways,” he replied, getting up from his stool and frantically straightening the fabric of his navy pants.
Alex looked at him slightly surprised. He thought he’d push back a little more. He slung an arm over Micheal with a sharp grin, “I’ll lead the way.”
…
Alex’s apartment was the standard late-eighties looking, rich bachelor pad — high ceilings with an open floor, unfinished studio look about it — leather, leather everywhere with expensive looking sound and video equipment sitting heavy on his hardwood floors.
They were currently standing in Alex’s exquisite, dim kitchen which he probably barely ever used.
“Want something? Food? Drink?” Alex said, closing and locking the door behind Micheal.
“Wow,” is all Micheal could say. This was way nicer than his spot, which was pretty good if he did say so himself.
Alex came up behind Micheal, who was still simply standing there, and murmured in his ear, “take your shoes and suit jacket off Mike, make yourself comfortable.”
Micheal tensed up and did exactly what Alex told him to do; he did it so eagerly and quickly it completely perplexed him. As soon as he placed his jacket on the kitchen’s spotless counter, he felt unbelievably dizzy, needing to lay down quickly.
Making his way over to Alex’s suggestive looking couch, he sat down at its right most corner and slumped against the leather, closing his eyes and sighing. Micheal felt fuzzy, in his mind, in his body, all around the edges. The night was quickly escalating and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to or not. He missed his own apartment, but couldn’t bring himself to walk away from all…this.
He felt Alex thump down next to him.
“Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he sighed.
Micheal opened his eyes and saw that Alex was lighting up a cigarette.
“Want one?” Alex offered the box of Marlboro reds to him.
Was it even a question? Seemed like Micheal had never once said no to Alex tonight and as much as he was afraid to admit it, didn’t see himself starting anytime soon.
Micheal plucked a cigarette from the carton and put it in his mouth, even the cigarettes Alex smoked were stereotypical. Could this man get any more text-book definition of “delinquent?”
Alex let out a puff of smoke and waved a finger for Micheal to come closer. Michael leaned forwards and watched how Alex lit his cigarette with the burning end of his own.
The act was undeniably intimate.
Micheal leaned away soon after and tried not to choke on smoke.
“So Mike, tell me about this fiancée of yours. Is she hot? Drives you crazy?” Alex inquired, reclining on the sofa.
“Oh—um,” Micheal stuttered. He felt so uncomfortable talking about her right now, her image in this setting didn't mix very well in his mind.
“She’s great, I guess, Ruth. Very beautiful,” he took a long inhale of his cigarette.
“You guess?” Alex laughed.
“I don’t know, she just…well…sometimes I feel like she doesn’t even see me y’know? Like I’m just a job and a sparkly ring to her. Some nice guy she can take home to her parents to prove she has stability,” Micheal tensed his brows, making himself feel quite upset with this spoken revelation.
“Are you a nice guy?” Alex eyed him, slightly biting on his cigarette.
“I try to be,” Micheal replied.
“And how’s that working out for you?”
“Not that great. It’s like I say yes to everything and everyone and suddenly, everybody’s just making decisions for me, like I have no autonomy whatsoever,” Micheal let out a huff of smoke and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Hmm,” Alex nodded.
He gazed at Micheal heavy lidded. His eyes took in the way his body lounged on his couch. The way Micheal’s tie lay on the curve of his chest, sleeves rolled up and forearms exposed. The way Micheal’s expensive watch glinted on his wrist as he brought the cigarette to his lips to suck out smoke, navy fabric tight on his crotch as he sat.
“Seems like you aren’t satisfied,” Alex said, low.
“I guess I’m not,” Micheal sighed and blew out smoke, inspecting his cigarette and putting it back in his mouth.
“…would you like that to change?”
Alex said simply, putting his cigarette out on the coffee table’s ash tray.
Micheal looked at Alex. Completely frozen.
He watched how Alex crept closer and closer til he was mere inches away from his face.
Alex eyed Micheal’s mouth and removed the cigarette dangling on his lips, throwing it to the side in such a nonchalant manner that Micheal felt like he was in absolute imminent danger.
“Have you ever cum so hard that you forgot all sense of who you were in the moment?”
Alex murmured close against Micheal’s face.
Micheal furrowed his brows at the man staring so lustfully at him. He felt like his chest might burst, the way Alex caged him like that on the sofa.
And for the first time tonight, he made an incredibly bad decision without any of Alex’s guidance.
He grabbed Alex’s collar and yanked him forwards to kiss him, Alex meeting his mouth eagerly and kissing back him fiercely. Micheal found himself instantly aroused with how intensely Alex smeared his lips against his. Ruth had never kissed him like that. Ever.
Pressing Micheal lower down into the couch, Alex pulled away suddenly and looked down at him, at how he gazed up at him flushed, sedated with want. He grinned at the bloom of pink that covered Mike’s face and plucked the glasses off his nose, setting them haphazardly down on the floor before returning to Micheal and grabbing his jaw.
“You have the cutest face I’ve ever seen, like a fucking cherub,” he breathed, before meeting Micheal’s lips once again and trailing them down his jaw to his neck.
Micheal felt Alex start sucking there, along with his hands feeling all over his warm body and couldn’t help but let out heavy breaths that verged towards moans.
Alex's fingers quickly came up to loosen Micheal’s tie, undoing the silk and letting it hang a limp strip around his neck before beginning to undo his shirt’s buttons.
Micheal pulled Alex’s face back up against his, feeling himself grow hooked on the taste of smoky alcohol on his tongue, running his hands through Alex’s gelled hair.
Micheal thought he’d feel more nervous about this. Disgusted maybe. But he didn’t feel that at all.
What he felt was an insatiable need for more. Intoxicated with Alex’s saliva, he felt himself turn ravenous, like he wasn’t Micheal any more, but a dream, an idol instead.
Alex finished unbuttoning Micheal’s white button up and spread open the fabric. He ran his hand up his bare torso then broke off Micheal’s mouth to lick at his chest, grazing his tongue over his nipple.
Micheal gasped. He’d never felt a sensation like that before. He felt his dick strain against his pants, so deliciously aroused. Alex’s hand slipped downwards to palm him through the navy cotton, only making Mike’s erection grow worse.
“Fuck,” he breathed, letting out a moan with how good it felt for Alex’s large hand to rub his aching cock. Mike’s hips began rolling up into his palm, closing his eyes and tilting his head up at the ceiling with pleasure.
He heard Alex softly laugh against his stomach. Alex just couldn’t help but be so undeniably amused at this blond disaster of a man, how pathetic he turned once he got his fix, not that he wasn’t pretty pathetic before.
Alex straightened himself up off the couch and removed his blazer, yanking his t-shirt off over his head. Micheal found himself shifting so that he lay completely flat on the couch, eyeing Alex’s bare torso, then his blatant erection. His mind was spinning, he felt himself unable to bear breaking apart from Alex, already wanting him back on top of him. Micheal felt fucking crazy, he felt drunk, and really high, and he wanted to…
He wanted to touch Alex. Put his mouth other places on his body besides his mouth. Micheal wanted to see all of him. Fuck. He wanted to make Alex cum.
Micheal Boll. The timid blond up Wall Street. The good guy with a pretty soon-to-be wife at home was now making out with another man in some strange apartment in the middle of the night, honest to God feeling the most turned on he’s ever been in his whole life.
Alex could see the hunger in Micheal’s eyes. He could also tell from a mile away that this was obviously his first time with a guy, which, in turn, made Alex feel a high that was better than coke and alcohol combined.
His blue eyes met Michael’s green as he slowly unclasped his lux leather belt.
Micheal eyed him back, slipping a hand down to his crotch and touching himself to the sight.
Alex proceeded to unzip his pants and slide them off, leaving his toned body in tight, black boxers. He came over Micheal’s body and caged it with his knees.
He gazed down at Micheal, eyeing how his chest rose and fell, hot with anticipation.
“You’ve never done this before huh?” he grinned.
“No. Is that a problem?” Micheal replied, unashamed. There was something new in his voice, something stable.
Alex laughed that signature sharp laugh of his and came down to kiss Micheal’s abdomen, smiling at him with a quiet “no.” He proceeded to swiftly unbuckle and unbutton his pants, tugging them downwards. Micheal wasted no time shifting his body so that Alex could take them off easier.
And now Micheal lay on Alex’s couch, half naked with his dick print clearly visible against his thin, white briefs.
Alex brought himself upwards to kiss Micheal, pressing his body weight atop his and grinding soft and slow against him. They both groaned into each other’s mouths as they cherished the heavenly friction, cocks throbbing and firm against each other. An undeniably filthy scene.
Micheal’s hands explored Alex’s body, running finger tips over his shoulders, arms, neck, the dip of his back. It was all very firm. He was used to the soft flesh of a woman's hips, her breasts pressing against his chest. This was different; Alex was sharp and hard, like Micheal might cut himself if he wasn’t careful.
Alex licked his hand and slipped it downwards and into Micheal’s boxers. Mike let out a sort of whorish moan with how good it felt for Alex to stroke his cock like that, quite surprised at himself for what he sounded like. It was so desperate. It was exhilarating.
“God, fuck…” he panted, his boyish blond brows tensing.
“You like that?” Alex murmured, nuzzling his nose against Micheal’s neck.
“Yes—” Micheal breathed.
“Mmm,” Alex moaned in reply, making Mike’s jaw tilt upwards as he came to bite at his Adam's apple.
“Do you want more?” Alex whispered desperately. He could feel Micheal’s throat move against his lips as he swallowed hard with desire.
“Yeah—I…”
“…want more of you,” Micheal responded a little weakly, head foggy with the feeling of Alex’s thumb sliding across his leaking tip.
“How so?” Alex laughed low and smitten, coming to face him clearly.
Micheal met his eyes and never felt more vulnerable, never felt more alive. God this was somehow fucking scarier than going thirty over the limit with cocaine dripping steady down your throat.
“I want to taste you, Alex. Let me suck you off,” he said, green eyes dilated and wired.
Alex, teeth sharp as ever, grinned and came down to kiss him.
“…good answer Micheal,” he murmured against his lips.
So Micheal grabbed onto Alex’s head and kissed him wet, slowly letting himself up and switching positions so that Alex now lay down on the opposite corner of the couch. Mike dragged his tongue across the other’s lower lip, feeling him all over on top and biting Alex’s lip when he pulled away only to return to his mouth with further passion, pressing strong kisses to his lips and neck. Alex grabbed him harder when he did that, coming to wrap his arms around Micheal’s waist, grabbing his ass.
And Micheal just couldn’t help but think how Ruth hated when he tried to kiss her more rough like that, how she never touched him there whenever they made love. He never knew how much it made him blush.
Alex crept a hand upwards and took hold of Micheal’s undone tie, yanking him by the neck harder against his face. Micheal let out a small noise of aroused surprise, unsure how good it was that he liked the act so terribly. His hand came down to feel the thick ridge in Alex’s boxers, heart beginning to thrum at how real and vivid everything felt suddenly. There was no denying it, here he was touching another man’s dick.
Alex broke away ever so slightly, gazing at him with languid eyes, “do you really want to suck my cock Mike?”
For some reason, the way that Alex said it felt insulting to Mike, like Alex didn’t think he had it in him. Micheal locked irises with Alex and grabbed his jaw this time. He spoke with such a quiet precision, that it was Alex who felt a pang of intimidation during the exchange.
“I want to see what kind of face you make when you cum.”
Micheal kept his gaze on Alex for a second before moving his head to lick a warm patch down his body to his boxer briefs.
What a sight it was, for Alex to witness sandy waves between his legs, staring down at his tented up briefs, slowly slipping them off till he lay there completely exposed.
Micheal could hear his own heavy breathing as he stared at Alex's erect penis. It was flushed, and swelled and fucking big.
What the fuck am I doing? Mike swallowed hard.
Micheal spat into his hand and gave Alex a couple of strokes, before taking a breath and licking up the length of his dick.
It wasn’t bad. It just tasted like skin. Like when Ruth would come around and let him eat her out every now and then, just less wet. He could do this. He kind of liked it actually.
He gave him another lick, this time meeting Alex’s eyes as he came to wrap his lips around the head of his cock.
Alex inhaled hard, completely infatuated with the sight of those lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, darkened eyes that looked at him so intensely. How that gorgeous, golden head of hair bobbed up and down, attempting to suck him off like some goddamn slut.
Micheal closed his eyes and tried his best to not choke on the actual dick inside of his mouth, down his throat. His heart raced, trying not to think about what this meant for him as a person, one that would continue to exist after this fucking lucid dream of a night. Mike focused on the sound of Alex’s growing groans, how his hips slightly shifted against his mouth. His mind felt like it might melt; there was saliva dripping down his chin as he made borderline humiliating wet noises as he sucked, and he heard himself moaning on Alex’s cock too, and he could feel Alex’s hands running through his sandy waves, and fuck, he could feel his cock pulsing unbelievably hard against his stomach now.
“Fuck, that’s it Mike,” Alex moaned.
For his first blowjob, Micheal wasn’t half bad. Alex had received better obviously, but something about the way Micheal pulled away from his cock when Alex told him he was close, wiping his mouth with the front of his watched wrist as his other hand rested on Alex’s hip had him utterly entranced like no other.
Micheal then put his hand on back on Alex’s cock and stroked him faster and faster till Alex was muttering all kinds of vulgar language and tilting his head upwards, gripping the couch cushions.
“Alex, look at me,” Micheal ordered with resolute volume.
And suddenly blue was meeting green.
And then Micheal knew exactly how Alex looked when he orgasmed, blocky, black brows furrowed, mouth open with a lewd groan spilling out of it. It was kind of a funny face, actually — for how much of a supposedly mysterious and dangerous jerk he was.
Mike looked downwards and saw how his hand was covered in semen, dripping thick down his fingers. He brought his hand up to his face and inspected the milky liquid. It wasn’t anything he had never seen before, but it was always his before. Never someone else’s.
Micheal licked his hand.
Alex’s cum tasted salty and wet in his mouth. It was strange. He didn’t mind it, which was even weirder.
“Shit. Good job, Blondie,” Alex said, catching his breath, bringing his head upwards to the ceiling.
Micheal laughed in disbelief. Should he say “thank you” or?
Alex ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “guess it’s my turn.”
Just like that, all the want came flooding back into Alex’s body, even after the fatigue of ejaculating. Alex brought his head back down and met Mike’s eyes, something new had sparked aflame within him, Mike could hear it in his voice.
“Lay down, close your eyes and don’t open them unless I say so,” he said simply, still lounging on his corner of the couch.
Micheal eyed him back and scoffed, but proceeded to lay himself down anyways, shutting his eyelids.
He felt some shifting around on the couch, then fingers slipping off his boxers. Mike moaned at the feeling of a hand wrapping around his cock and stroking it slowly once more, feeling ten times more sensitive while missing his sense of sight.
Then he felt the prick of something sharp against his throat.
“Open them up Mike.”
Micheal immediately opened his eyes to the sight of a red switchblade pressed to his Adam’s apple and Alex’s wide grin, slightly psychotic really, now that he looked at it.
“Alex, what the fuck are you—” Micheal shifted frantically on the couch.
“Relax. Relax. Sh—hey! Micheal, fucking calm down, okay?” he laughed, coming to pin Mike’s body down with his legs.
“I’m not going to hurt you, alright?” Alex put a hand to Mike’s cheek.
“Don’t fucking play with me Alex,” Micheal warned, slapping Alex’s hand off his face.
“Hey, listen. Fear is a powerful thing, Mike. Some people let it push them around, others know how to make use of it. Use fear to their advantage,” Alex explained.
“Personally, I’ve found that fear can enhance sexual experiences in ways that you can’t even imagine,” Alex whispered.
“You are completely insane,” Micheal responded, breathing feverishly.
“Maybe. Now, are you going to stay here on this couch and get your balls drained like never before or are you going to get up and leave unsatisfied like the fucking loser you’re so desperately afraid of being?”
Alex stared down at him, face serious.
Micheal looked at him in a moment of angry contemplation before sighing with a “fuck you.”
“There we go,” Alex grinned.
“But if you cut me I swear to God, I will cut you back — slice your fucking dick off,” Micheal warned.
“Talking like a true asshole, love to hear it,” Alex laughed.
“Now, you will stay still, no matter how good it feels alright? Wouldn’t want to break skin — just bought this one yesterday, still fresh, razor sharp,” Alex murmured.
And Alex’s hand resumed jerking Mike off. He had a sort of precision while doing this, a tight grip that had Micheal’s eyes shut and mouth open, spilling thick male moans out, slowly forgetting the absolute derangement of this entire situation to make room in his needy brain for the hedonic bliss that was his dick being touched so expertly.
He felt the switchblade press deeper against his throat and instead of simply panicking, the fear ignited his pulse and made Mike moan louder, tilting his jaw upwards farther and farther as Alex continued to press with his knife.
“God, these moans…they’re making me hard all over again Mike, you sound like such a whore,” Alex snickered.
“Shit—shit,” Mike groaned, his abdomen tensing and flexing with pleasure.
He was so close to finishing and Alex took notice; he waited until Mike was about to completely unravel til he took his hand away and denied him the orgasm.
Micheal let out a frustrated groan, an angry “fuck!” with a want to thump his head against the couch, but unable to because of the knife. He just had to lay there and brood on his feelings of utter helplessness.
“You asshole,” he panted, catching his breath.
“Be patient sweetheart. This only makes it better,” Alex muttered.
“I think we should try something different this time,” he added, flicking the pocket knife closed and tossing it behind him on the couch.
“Now, this is my personal favorite, I think you’ll like it too,” Alex smiled, coming to graze Mike’s lips with his thumb.
Mike gazed at him, completely sex drunk. All he could think of at the moment was the pulsing heat between his legs and he was too far gone with a need to address said throbbing problem to be angry and try to retort once again.
So when Alex shoved his thumb in Micheal’s mouth, he sucked instead of biting.
“I’m really glad I met you tonight Mike,” Alex murmured.
“I’ve never met such a person. So malleable, so much potential, and with such a pretty dick. Well groomed too, though you don’t really need it since your hair grows light and doesn’t mess up the view,” Alex continued, gazing at Michael’s painfully erect cock. It twitched, just begging to be touched.
Mike shifted on the couch and fucking whined against Alex’s thumb, like a goddamn child, slipping a hand downwards to touch himself.
Alex swiftly grabbed his wrist and pinned it back next to Mike’s head of hair.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered, blue eyes twisting and turning, like a storm at sea.
Alex removed his thumb from Mike’s mouth and shifted his hand downwards around his neck.
“Alex,” Micheal called out, fear slipping back into his voice.
“Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not interested in that,” Alex replied.
“I’ve done this before,” he added with a murmur.
Mike could suddenly feel pressure on his neck and had some trouble breathing. He obviously freaked and put his hands on Alex’s to try and pry them off.
Alex lightened the grip on his neck but didn’t let go, instead he put his hand back around Mike’s dick which was enough to pacify him. Mike slowly let go, face beginning to tense in absolute pleasure.
“Now if you do believe something is seriously wrong you will thump hard four times on the couch with your hand, got it?” Alex instructed.
Mike slightly nodded, mouth too overtaken with moans to give a verbal “yes.”
As Alex continued to give him possibly the best handjob he thought he’d ever had, Micheal’s hands gripped the couch’s leather. His hips rolled and bucked upwards in utter bliss, feeling that pressure on his neck start to build in harmony with the one in his groin.
Alex watched as Mike’s mouth gaped open, how his eyes rolled up and backwards, brows passionately tensed. He did this very closely, as there was a distinct difference between the eyes doing that from enamored pleasure and from deadly asphyxiation — somehow, he knew the secret on how to tell so.
Mike’s moaning and deep groans turned to strangled gasps and small, hopeless whimpers as he was choked and stroked raw. He couldn’t really think, or breathe. The lack of oxygen going to his brain mixed with the oxytocin rush he so deliciously felt had him experiencing some sort of erotic high. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his nearly three decades living on this planet.
It was phenomenal.
He was so close. So so so close. And he wanted it, like really bad. His hand came up to grip Alex’s forearm, a sort of silent plea for him to let him cum this time.
Mike crept closer and closer until…
Nothing. A hand gone and intangible air around his dick.
Alex let go of his neck and Michael wheezed pathetically, reeling and immediately trying to put a hand to his dick once more.
Alex yanked his hand away and slapped him clean across the face; he grabbed the other and pinned Mike, arms over his head, on the couch.
“Be. Fucking. Patient.”
He leaned over him, coming to speak gravely and close to Mike’s face.
“Let me cum,” is all Micheal could think to desperately reply. It was literally all he wanted. He was willing to beg for it, pay for it, cash, check, fuck he wanted it so goddamn bad.
“I will this time if you say please,” Alex smiled.
“Please—please let me cum,” Mike begged.
“Alright. I'll show you how it’s done too,” Alex flicked his brows up and pressed a teasing kiss to Micheal’s forehead.
Letting go of his wrists, Alex came to make out with Mike passionately. He grabbed Mike’s jaw and turned it to the side, trailing his tongue up his cheek, mouth then trekking down Mike’s neck, pressing kisses behind his ear.
Micheal’s breaths were so heavy, his moans so filthy and uncaged, utterly bewitched by this malevolent dream of a man.
Alex came to nip and lick all over Micheal’s torso — collarbones, nipples, abs, and worst of all, that fucking flat patch of skin where the hip meets the thigh that’s so incredibly close to his cock.
Micheal felt sickened, mad, looking down at Alex, mere breaths away from his dick. He wanted to dig his hands in that inky scalp and shove his mouth down on his cock violently — and he could so easily do so. Yet, he didn’t do so. This entire time Micheal wasn’t handcuffed, restrained all the way. Something else kept him on that couch. Fear? Want? A growing understanding of how wild you can let yourself be when you give yourself over completely, hand control over with eager eyes? Who knows.
Alex met his eyes and spoke.
“If you choose to stay with her, this Ruth…I want you to think of this very night, this very moment, every time you fuck that tiny pussy of hers — and the best part will be that she won't have a goddamn clue why in the world you’ve suddenly become such a tiger in bed.”
He stifled a laugh and took Mike’s cock into his mouth.
Micheal gasped and his head shot upwards with a “mmffuckk”
God it was spectacular, simply decadent and unrestrained, how wet and hot Alex’s mouth felt. How his tongue swirled so good around his dick, across the slit of his tip. And the suction. It was intense. It was…
It was…
So. Much. Better. Than. Ruth.
Alex is so much better than Ruth.
Mike wasn’t going to last very long. At all.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, mmplease Alex—God, I’m gonna, oh my god I’m going to cum,” he gasped and moaned.
Alex stayed on Mike’s dick. He kept sucking and kept Mike’s cock deep down his throat. Alex didn’t show much of a reaction, he kept his eyes closed and brows tense, like he was focused, at work.
Mike panted harder and harder, feeling like he might die, praying to Christ almighty that Alex hadn't lied about letting him have release this time.
It was clear he hadn’t when Mike found his entire body swallowed by the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced. It was like he’d discovered how to ejaculate for the first time but maybe a million times better. A loud groan ripped from his throat, back arched and completely tense. His cock twitched, desperately pumping ropes of cum down Alex’s wet, soft throat.
In the moment, it was like he did forget all sense of who he was. His worries, his wants, his everything. Just pure, burning euphoria.
Micheal found he had no control over the sounds his mouth was making, from that desperate loud moan, to smaller wrecked noises as he collected his breath and found himself back in the living room.
Alex finally pulled away and swallowed hard, wiping his chin with a cough of a laugh.
Mike eyed him breathlessly and put a hand to his own face, shielding his eyes with an ever growing idiot smile. He began to laugh alongside Alex, genuine, radiant laughter. Alex gazed at him as he did so and admired the small gap between his two front teeth that came out to say hello as Micheal continued to giggle like he didn’t believe he was real.
“Holy shit,” Mike breathed, feeling incredibly sweaty in his unbuttoned dress shirt.
Alex patted Micheal’s thigh twice before locating his boxers and slipping them back on.
“Sex can be a rapturous tool, shame people can be so fucking ah…close minded about it,” he remarked, letting his waistband snap onto his hips.
Mike was still feeling all sorts of wasted, eye lids heavy, as he felt his briefs being thrown at him.
He heard Alex’s voice.
“You can crash on the couch if you’d like, I need another smoke. I’ll be outside for a bit.”
Micheal nodded and let the biggest wave of exhaustion wash over him. He barely made it through putting his underwear back on till he fell fast asleep on the couch.
Perfectly satisfied.
…
When Micheal opened his eyes in the morning, his heart fell as he failed to remember where exactly he was for a brief moment.
He looked around and everything was just like how it was left the night before, his strewn clothes, his glasses on the floor by the couch, the used ash tray on the coffee table. He sighed and rubbed his face, stretching his arms.
Mike checked his watch. 9:23 AM.
He grabbed his glasses and slipped them on. Realizing he was lounging on the couch, open shirt and undies out for all to see, Micheal then tasked himself with buttoning his shirt up and putting his navy trousers and belt back on. He stood up and stretched his sore nape, suspecting he slept on it weird last night. The front of his neck felt tender too, though Micheal knew exactly where that had come from. His head hurt like a bitch and he was in no shape to run a marathon, but overall he felt fine. No overwhelming feelings of shame and disgust bubbling up inside him, surprisingly. Though he did feel unsure about his seemingly alone state within the apartment.
The place appeared calm in the morning light. Simple and fresh. Nothing like the sensuous den it posed during the events of the late night previous.
Looking around for any signs of Alex, Mike spotted something on the kitchen counter.
Yawning, he made his way over and beheld three small objects.
The first, a hand written note:
Mike,
Sorry I won’t be there when you wake up. I’ve got some bullshit business to attend to. I bet you’re itching to know what exactly it is that I do, but it’s best I stay a mystery. It’s always more fun that way. Speaking of fun, I enjoyed last night with you very much. I think you have a great smile and sexy voice — and a gorgeous pink cock too, but I already told you that. There’s something deep in you that I don’t think had ever been pulled out till I met you. I hope you can find use in whatever you’d like to do with that new facet of yourself. Here’s two gifts. One to make yourself feel like a badass and to remember me by, and another to make me feel like the cool asshole I am. I’ll always think of you whenever I come across a shitty Scotch.
—Alex.
P.S. Not sure when you’ll wake up and read this, but I’d advise you to not linger around the apartment. It actually isn’t mine. Oops.
By the note was Alex’s red switchblade and a twenty dollar bill — cab money.
Micheal scoffed and grinned wide.
He picked up the switch base and fumbled it open, twisting the knife and examining how the blade glinted in the light.
Simply staring at it for a beat, Mike brought the flat of the blade to his mouth and carefully licked it. The simple danger of the act made something enlivening bloom within him and he let out a laugh, flicking it back closed.
Pocketing the blade and the note, Micheal tied his shoes, swiping his jacket and the money. He gave the apartment one last look. Through his lenses, he soaked in the form of the black couch, the thin, glass coffee table, the giant tv across the tastefully minimalistic living room, how the big windows pooled in so much light. Micheal then tensed a brow wondering who the fuck actually lived here if not Alex. The thought prompted him to finally leave, walking out the door and closing it locked behind him.
And as he sat in the cab on the way home, Micheal had many, many thoughts.
Ones that made him smile in disbelief, like how he burned so carelessly through pavement on actual cocaine; a knife was pulled on him; he was choked naked and he seemed to like it.
Others that made him fluster as he thought of strong hands on his body, touching and kissing him in ways that still made his face go hot as he stared out the window, thinking about the sounds he let out in response.
Micheal realized he still knew virtually nothing about Alex at all, if that was even his real name. Yet, somehow, he had told every detail about himself to the guy.
He remembered how he felt first walking to the pub, feeling like he made a huge mistake. That he’d come to feel horrible about the whole ordeal, bashfully confessing his lie to Ruth and her parents.
What was horrible now, was that Mike didn’t have any regrets at all. He was so goddamn grateful fate struck its chord and he was at the same place, the same time Alex was, undoubtedly.
His night with Alex reminded Mike that he was simply flesh and blood, able to do anything, anywhere — and so fragile, guaranteed to able to perspire at any time. The thought got his heart racing.
Micheal still had a lot to sort out in his life after this. Decisions to make about his career, his personality, how he presents himself and interacts with others.
Especially with Ruth. God he had to deal with Ruth.
But what was he to do? He wasn’t sure he loved her; he’d been afraid to admit that for a very long time — but was there even a point to leaving her?
It’s not like there was a chance he’d ever see those piercing blue eyes ever again. That was the whole ordeal, the charm of Alex. He was a one fuck fantasy.
And call him the actual scum of the earth for this, but the idea of making love to Ruth, head buried in a pillow as he fantasized about strong hands around his neck and jet black between his legs made Micheal feel a sort of twisted thrill within his very self. It untethered something special and dark, sick and perverted — and he found himself unable to resist the temptation.
He quite liked the feeling.
To stop resisting.
To let it all go, giving it up and letting your mind roam free, not caring that the things that make you feel quite alright are strange and twisted. Maybe it's just human nature, we’re called to embrace primitive states — revert to a mix of teeth and skin and saliva, no matter who, and no matter the circumstance.
As Micheal continued to wring out his convoluted mind, sitting in a cramped, nicotine drenched taxi, one thing was for sure.
He’d never drink scotch around Ruth ever again.