Chapter Twenty-two – Jack #2
He pulled back a little, knowing I’d rejected his advance.
“It is,” he said, lightly shrugging one shoulder and returning his gaze to the crowd, searching, just like I had been, for fresh prey.
I leaned back too, but found my gaze flickering to him, looking at his slight roman nose in profile, the strong line of his jaw.
Being an artist, I’d always had an overactive imagination—it wasn’t hard to imagine his lips wrapped around my cock, his brown eyes looking up at me.
The thought was a little disturbing—but only because I’d never really entertained it before, nothing else.
And hadn’t Rosalie said that I could feed on sex? I’d far rather fuck someone than bite them.
“Hey,” I said, before I could lose my nerve.
He swiveled his head back toward me. “Yeah?”
“I think you’re right.”
His full lips pulled into a grin. “About which part?”
“Not sure yet. Let’s go somewhere and see.”
He leaned in close enough that I could smell him, underneath his cologne. “Give me a three minute head start and meet me in the bathroom.”
Two minutes later, I set my beer on the bar and began walking after him.
The line for the girl’s stretched out of the hallway, along the back wall of the club, whereas I could just walk on in to the men’s.
Two guys were there peeing, one was washing his hands, and—just as I was ready to walk back out—one of the stalls opened, the big one at the back.
I timed things and snuck in to be with him, unseen.
“This is not what I had in mind,” I said, as he latched the door behind me. The music was so loud that even in here we had to stand close to be heard.
“Oh come on, this is probably bigger than the closet you’ve been living in,” he teased.
I snorted. “I’m not—" I began.
“Standing with another guy in a bathroom stall, hoping to get a handy?” he said as he leaned in. I wanted to step back, not because he himself was intimidating, but everything he might represent—he was so sure of himself and, oddly, of me.
“I’ve never done this before,” I said. “I’m not gay. But….” I looked him over, the way his shirt cut to his waist from his shoulders, the way his slacks had a telling sag where he was getting hard. I swallowed. “I’m curious.”
He leaned back. “I can work with curious. What’s your name?”
And the horror of when I had told Rosalie my name so recently returned. “Jack,” I said, softly.
“Jack,” he repeated my name just as quiet. “Nice to meet you. I’m Paco.”
I nodded. And as if sensing my current fragility he gave me space. “What’d you come in here hoping for, Jack?”
Proof that the world could still matter to me, now that I’d been ripped from its fabric and denied the woman that I loved—even though she might have never really loved me? “I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “I think I just didn’t want to be alone.”
Paco’s face softened even more at that. “I can work with that, too,” he said, and kissed me.
I let him, without kissing him back. I felt his lips land on mine, his tongue stroke against them for entrance, and I opened them for him, feeling him lean against me bodily, pressing me into the cold metal wall behind.
He was warm and he was strong, and—having someone close was almost like having someone care.
I pressed my head forward, tilting it, pushing my tongue against his, not fighting it but moving alongside it, to taste him as he tasted me.
His hands ran up the sides of my chest, while mine found his waist where his shirt was tucked in—and tugged at it.
“Yeah?” he asked, as he pulled his head back. In answer, I leaned forward, and kissed him again—harder. He made an agreeable sound and his hands went for my belt.
I had one hand wrapped around his waist, underneath his shirt, feeling the muscles moving beneath his skin, and had another pulling his head to mine, as one of his hands started pushing into my slacks. Paco leaned back to chuckle. “No underwear—you’re sure you’re not gay? Or at least bi?”
I looked down at where his hand was going, feeling him reaching for me. “I was a lot more sure thirty minutes ago.”
His hand sank and his fingers brushed my shaft as my cock started to swell, trapped alongside the leg of my pants. “Pretty soon you’re not going to be able to turn back.”
As his fingers wrapped around me I closed my eyes. “I don’t want to.”
“Good boy,” Paco said, making his thumb and forefinger a ring around me, drawing me up until I was free of my slacks.
Every touch felt electric, like there was a current going through him, through my cock, through me, grounding on the metal wall behind me and then back again as he leaned in.
“I’m gonna suck you off, Jack. I want to taste your cum,” he said, as he made a broad stroke, and every part of me shivered at hearing the promise in his words.
As he knelt in front of me I closed my eyes, then he pinched my hip. “I’m not some girl down here. Watch,” he commanded—and I did.
There are people who think that giving a blowjob is a subservient thing, that only people who are willing to be degraded or depowered, perform them. This is because they have either never given, or received, a proper one.
As I watched the head of my cock go into Paco’s mouth and felt his tongue swirl against its underside as his steely eyes looked up, challenging me to try to deny how good it was, being with a man—with him—my hands curled into fists against the metal stall behind me.
I heard him chuckle at the same time as I felt it reverberate against me.
He lapped slowly up my shaft, his lips working up it incrementally, like he was working at taking me in—all the while he looked up to watch what he was doing to me.
He was enjoying this, this strange taking of my virginity, watching himself conquer my inhibitions bit by bit.
And as my cock reached the back of his throat and tilted down, where I could feel him swallow against me—I made a small whine and then felt my fangs start to descend.
We were alone in this bathroom stall, outside the dance went on and urinals flushed, but in here—I could do so many dangerous things to him if he’d let me.
I felt an animalistic passion rush through my body, wanting to taste-know-feel all of him at once, not caring if that was through him sucking my cock—or me sucking the blood out of him.
I clenched my fists again as his head bobbed, and I tried to regain control.
Paco pulled his head all the way off, stroking me steadily with his hand. “Don’t fight it.”
I was breathing hard. “You don’t even know what I’m fighting.”
He drew his lips across the tip of my cock, streaking himself with the precum glistening there. “Just give in,” he said, looking up at me, licking his lips, before taking my cock in his mouth again.
I unclenched one fist and brought a hand to his hair, knocking the straight strands out of place, making him look wilder on me.
His tongue pulled against the bottom of my shaft with every stroke, rubbing the sensitive part right under my head, then his lips kept his whole mouth tight as he pushed back on. It was good, so good and—
I wanted to come. I needed to come. And he wanted to taste me—I felt my cock get harder as he sped up, sensing the effort I was making to both let go and maintain.
He growled to urge me, to own me, I felt the tremor of it even though I couldn’t hear it with the dance music right outside and—I clutched my hand into his hair and pulled him onto me and thrust, raising my hips up to meet him just as I felt my balls start to pulse.
His growl changed to a purr of contentment as my load painted his mouth. He took three more long tight sucks and then pulled back, visibly swallowing, still fucking me with his eyes.
“Did you like that?”
I could only catch my breath and nod. “Yeah,” I started—yes—but—it wasn’t enough.
Not like the wave of relief I’d felt after Maya.
The need to feed still pressed inside my skin, even worse than it had been before—and I realized my mistake.
Me coming wouldn’t do anything to satisfy it—it was only the power that someone else released when they did that pushed it back.
I reached down and grabbed Paco, hauling him up and spinning us both so that his back was against the stall, and kissed him hard, tasting the way he still tasted like me.
His hands went into my hair and my hands chased down his chest to find skin.
I needed to give it to him, and I had to make it good—
My mouth ravished his, kissing him bruisingly hard, and then moved down to kiss other places, the line underneath his jaw, his neck, his ear.
I was close enough to him now that I could hear his bloodsong and I instantly knew what it was—the rushing sound inside him that kept speeding up as my hands rose, clawing against the muscles of his chest.
“I want to do things for you, Paco.” I whispered I as kissed up.
“To you,” I corrected. I felt him tense, unused to having control stripped from him—or perhaps from having anyone offer services so earnestly.
I pulled back enough to look him in the eyes as I pushed one hand down the front of his pants.
It was my first time holding anyone else’s cock. It felt a lot like mine, smooth, and warm, and thick, except that it belonged to him and I could see the way he melted a little as I moved my hand to gently hold it.
“Like what?” he said, his lips parting with a gasp.
“I—I want to fuck you.” I knew I meant what I said, and I saw his eyes go a little wide with concern.
“You think I’m going to let you do that here, to me? For your first time?”
“Show me how.” The entire time we were talking, I kept stroking.
He looked like he might refuse—and then where would I be, out on the dance floor again, watching solo dancers too intently, the other-thing inside myself waiting to pounce?
“You really think you can….” he began, reaching between us for my cock, finding it hard and ready. “Oh,” he said quietly instead.
“Teach me,” I said, giving his hand a gentle thrust.
Paco looked at me all over again, as if I were some sort of newly landed alien creature, making a strange request. I kept stroking his cock and thrusting at him softly—then his eyes fell on mine as he decided.
“Okay. But only because you want to learn. You promise to be gentle—until I tell you not to be?”
“I do,” I said, as he released me and his hands went to his belt to unbuckle it, and then to his fly.
Suddenly I could see the very cock I’d been touching, the soft, dark, and lovely skin of it, a vein like a river, rippling down one side.
I could see myself sucking it as he’d sucked me, I could almost taste it—but he turned and pushed his pants down, showing me the perfect curve of his ass.
“I don’t have condoms,” I said.
“Beginner,” he laughed, fishing one out of a breast pocket to almost throw at me. I unwrapped it quickly and hauled it on, then waited for further instructions. “Spit on it—get yourself wet—and go slow.”
I transferred spit from my mouth to my condomed cock with my hand—and then played my cock down his ass cleft.
He made a readying sound and tilted back a little, bracing against the metal wall with his forearms. I leaned forward to kiss the nape of his neck as I tilted myself to fit him and then pressed.
“That’s good,” I heard him say, and felt his body agree, a wave of relief coming off of him. I pressed my forehead against his back and put my hands over his to push in ever so slightly. “Really good,” he went on.
I felt the liquid heat of his body take me as I made my way inside, leading with my hips, until I was hilt deep inside of him, rising on my toes.
“You like that?” he asked.
I leaned forward to kiss him in answer. One of his hands clenched mine—and then we started fucking.
We swayed forward and back, his ass eating my cock the same as his mouth had.
One of my hands sank to reach for his cock, but he said, “No,” so I returned it to the wall, feeling him grind back into me.
It was like we were dancing to a song I’d never heard, that I’d only felt inside till now.
My breath was on his neck, one of his hands curled back into my hair, the other pressing him off of the stall’s wall into me.
“Harder, Jack,” he whispered, bracing. I kissed his neck, his ear, his shoulder, and tried to make good, thrusting more strongly.
Only the fact that I needed him to come kept me from coming—being in his ass felt just that good.
I reached up over us both to grab at the stall’s wall with one hand, and then the other, pressing him against it bodily, using the leverage of the wall to pull myself in harder, higher, all the while listening to his blood singing its song to me.
He arched himself up, making me go deep, feeling his body tense beneath mine.
“Oh God—right there, Jack—hit me there inside,” he said, grinding his ass up. “Keep going.”
I yanked an arm down off the wall to grab his waist and pull him closer, not missing a beat in the thrusts I was pounding into him.
His cock swung between us, someplace between soft and hard—I didn’t know what to do with it, it seemed like he was enjoying this and I was certainly enjoying fucking him—
He curled forward farther, dragging my other arm down off the wall and into his mouth to muffle the sound of a shouted scream—and I knew he was coming, oh God, coming so hard—I could feel his ass take me, squeezing my cock tight and—
Life
—radiating outwards, from somewhere in our hips—life—warmth, heat, safety, satiety—life—I ignored the way he was biting my arm to stop from screaming as my load flooded deep inside him.
I covered him, panting, pulling slowly back, feeling the tightness of his ass try to keep me in as my cock slid out. Paco’s cum was spattered on one of his pant legs and the floor. I moved back to sag against the opposite wall and he turned to survey himself with a relaxed grin.
“Messy—but totally worthwhile.”
I caught my breath as I tossed the condom into the toilet. The hunger—it was gone. I felt…practically human again. Far better than I had after I’d fucked Maya—because Paco was human. He’d given me the real thing, not some sad echo of it. I met his eyes. “I think you just saved my life.”
His eyebrows rose. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”
“No—I mean it,” I said, still overwhelmed with the sensation.
“I’m glad. But don’t be getting ideas.” Paco pushed his cock back into his pants and fastened them up again. “Have a good rest of your vacation, Jack.”
And without saying anything else, he was gone, leaving me in the stall alone.