Chapter 5
Chapter five
Rory
MacLeod’s cabin is the same size as the one I share with Tam. But MacLeod doesn’t share with anyone. There is a double bed instead of a bunk bed. A neatly made double bed, that for some reason I can’t stop staring at.
The air pressure in here feels different. So does the gravity. In fact, I’m pretty sure the light from the overhead bulb has an unusual quality to it.
My lungs are responding strangely. My palms are sweating. Every tiny hair on my body is standing to attention, hyperaware of MacLeod’s presence and being in MacLeod’s personal, private space.
“You’re wearing clothes, Gallacher.”
MacLeod’s voice is like gravel, rumbling out behind me. It makes me jump, and I look down to discover that, yes, I am indeed wearing clothes.
My work overalls, to be precise. Green with strips of reflective material under the knees and around the elbows.
Not exactly attractive. Definitely not what I would choose to wear when attempting to pull. But in my defense, I didn’t start the evening intending to pull. The overalls are comfortable and warm, the only thing that has a chance at keeping the wind out.
So, like most of the crew, I wear them even when off duty. And hey, they don’t seem to have hindered my ability to get lucky.
MacLeod sighs. “It would help if you weren’t wearing clothes.”
Oh right. Yes, of course. The… thing. I’m here to do the thing because I lost the card game, and the thing requires a lack of clothes.
I bend over and fumble with the laces of my steel toe cap boots. Blood rushes to my ears, and all I can hear is the frantic pounding of my heart.
I kick my boots off. Then I wriggle out of my overalls. Underneath I’m wearing a plain white teeshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. I take them off too. My one remaining brain cell has swung into action and understands the task. The task of getting naked.
I’m down to my boxers and socks. I don’t stop. And just like that, I’m fully naked. In MacLeod’s cabin. At past eleven. While he is only wearing a towel, and his dark eyes are roaming all over my body. All over. With great intention. A very careful perusal.
I gulp. My hands go to cover my junk, but I stop them half-way, so they kinda of swing and twitch weirdly, like some kind of Fortnite dance move.
MacLeod is still staring. At my naked body.
It’s fine. I’m young. I have a physical job. I’m sure my body is fine to look at, if you like that sort of thing.
With growing horror, I realize I’m blushing. And not just a face blush, oh no. Rory Gallacher could never be that lucky.
This is a full-body blush. Down my neck, over my chest. Perfectly stark against my pale Scottish skin. A salmon effect, if you will. Utterly unmissable. Especially if you are staring as intensely as MacLeod is.
“The shower is in there,” MacLeod says, nodding his head towards his bathroom door.
I flinch and turn my head to get a sniff of my armpits. I haven’t had a problem with BO since I was thirteen.
MacLeod shakes his head. “You smell fine. You need the shower because you’re going to bottom for me.”
My jaw drops open. My full-body blush intensifies. My stomach does something strange.
It’s my turn to stare. At his naked chest. His well-defined muscles. The smattering of dark chest hair. The sheer and utter mature manliness. He is… so… man. So much more man than me. I’m scrawny and pale next to him. He is older and bigger and MacLeoder.
I gulp. My hindbrain is ready for this. It knows this is right. The way of things.
It’s also totally what I was expecting when I stepped in here. It’s totally what was implied during the card game. It is exactly what MacLeod said as he filled out his door frame. He said something about virgin asses. One virgin ass in particular. Mine. My virgin ass.
He is masculine 3000 and I am masculine 101, and therefore I should…and he should…Yeah. I am fine with this. Very fine. And that’s something I’m going to have to reflect on later, because it’s a lot.
“Do you need me to show you what to do?” he says in his calm teaching voice.
“No!” I squeak. “I can figure it out!”
With that, I run the three steps to the bathroom and shut the door behind me with a little more force than necessary.
What follows is an embarrassing and awkward time, all while acutely aware of MacLeod waiting on the other side of the door.
Eventually, I make it out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel.
MacLeod has removed his towel and is standing quietly by the bed, gloriously naked. I have no idea what to do with my eyes. Oh God, what do I do with my eyes! Somebody tell me!
“Get on the bed,” says MacLeod.
Relieved that all I have to do is follow an instruction, I spring into action. I leap, I bounce, the towel falls to the floor. I sprawl like a starfish on my back. In MacLeod’s bed.
The very corner of MacLeod’s mouth moves. A twitch. A slight curl. I think it might be a smirk. Or at least, the very beginnings of one.
It’s utterly mesmerizing. Hypnotic. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.
I blink. I was so distracted by it, I didn’t register that MacLeod was moving, and now, all of a sudden, he is kneeling on the bed. At the bottom. Between my spread legs.
He moves again, gracefully for a man of his build, and… Holy fuck!
My lungs constrict forcefully. My spine bows. Stars spark behind my closed eyelids. Pleasure is coursing through me. Nerve endings are jangling and firing.
Soft, wet heat is surrounding my cock. There is pressure and suction and everything that is good and wonderful in the world.
Fucking hell! MacLeod just bent over and devoured my cock. Sucked the whole thing into his mouth like it’s a popsicle.
I was not expecting that. At all. I was expecting to give him a good time, not the other way round.
But maybe this is how he unwinds, by sucking on someone’s cock with great focus and intensity.
I can’t say I object. Far from it. If this is how he relieves tension, then call me Rory Stress-Ball Gallacher. Or should that be Stress-Cock?
My thoughts scatter and splinter. I’m orgasming harder than I ever knew was possible. I gasp through it. Ecstasy burning through me.
I heave in a breath. I open my eyes. MacLeod has finished with my cock, and he is rummaging in his bedside drawer.
Fuck. That felt like it lasted nanoseconds. I swear he wrapped his lips around my cock, and bahm! I was spilling my load down his throat.
Oh god. I just came in my boss’s mouth. I’m sure that’s not in the employee handbook.
He moves back from the bedside cabinet, and resumes his kneeling position between my legs. If he is annoyed or disappointed, or amused by how quickly I came, he’s not showing it.
He’s just smearing clear gloopy stuff over his fingers, with a serene expression on his face.
My heart flutters. Oh bloody hell, that’s lube. He’s lubing up his fingers.
He pauses. One dark eyebrow lifts. “You alright?”
“Aye,” I say on a shaky exhale.
“Changing your mind?”
I’m shaking my head vehemently before I’ve processed the words, but my body is right. I am not changing my mind. At all. If anything, any doubts, worries, or insecurities I had, are now only weak, wispy things that are only vaguely lingering out of habit.
“No, no. Carry on.”
Oh, heaven help me. Did I really just say that?
But then MacLeod does that almost-smirk again, and my chest goes all warm and tingly. My mortification and humiliation? Totally worth it.
Suddenly, a warm, slick finger is tracing gently around my hole. A strange noise bubbles out of me. Fuck, that feels good. So very good. I had no idea being touched there could feel so damn good.
His other hand rests on my inner thigh. He pushes gently, coaxing my legs wider apart, and I very willingly oblige.
The rig hums. The sea roars. The lightbulb above us buzzes in its plastic casing. And it all sounds like a serenade. A purposeful accompaniment to a moment that feels more significant than it should.
My chin lifts. My eyes roll back. I’m moaning. My body has taken control, and I’m merely along for the ride.
MacLeod gently eases his finger inside me. It feels wonderful. Not odd, or an invasion. Not even strange or uncomfortable. Just perfect.
He moves his finger in and out. A gentle glide that sends me to heaven. His promise of making me fall apart several times was not an idle boast. It was a vow. And I am very happy about that. Ecstatic.
One finger becomes two. I’m groaning and moaning now. Lost in the high.
He is leaning over me, all manly and strong. My eyes are closed, but I can feel the weight of his stare.
He is all dark eyes and dark hair. A contrast to my blond and blue-eyed look.
His skin is several shades darker than mine.
Sun-kissed and weathered. And the mental image of his strong, calloused hand sliding next to my pale, smooth thighs, is doing things to me.
I have no idea why that’s hot, but it is. Hot enough to make me combust.
“Hold on to the headboard,” he rumbles.
My arms lift above my head without questioning. I love MacLeod telling me what to do. It’s so relaxing. No thinking necessary. He speaks, I do. Nothing has ever felt more right.
A third finger works into me. I gasp. I wriggle. My hips move, but MacLeod puts his free hand on them, and I fall still.
Everything is stretch, a little burn, and an immense feeling of fullness, and all of it is delicious. I never want it to end. I’ve found heaven and I never want to leave.
His fingers do something inside me, bump a spot that lights me up. My back arches, all the air in my lungs leaves in a great whoosh, and I’m cumming so hard I’m going to pass out.
Waves and waves of pleasure wash over me. Leaving me weak and dizzy.
Slowly, I realize I’m panting and sweaty. Sprawled on the bed. MacLeod’s fingers have left me, and now he is back to his kneeling position. This time, rolling a condom onto his cock.
It’s a very nice cock, if there is such a thing. A decent size. Bigger than mine, but not obscenely huge. Not terrifyingly enormous. I’m not scared about where it’s about to go.
But maybe my perspective has changed. I’m not the same Rory who knocked on the door. I’m a different person now. More worldly wise. More experienced. With far broader horizons. I know stuff about myself now. Such as the fact I really, really like having my ass played with.
I try to look at MacLeod’s cock with Rory-who-knocked-on-the-door’s eyes, but it is no good. That Rory no longer exists. This Rory is excited to discover if a cock feels even better than fingers did.
MacLeod moves. He leans over me, holding his weight up with one hand by my head. His other hand is lower, much lower. The logical conclusion is that his other hand is holding his cock, ready to slide into me.
“Ready?” he asks.
I look up at him and nod.
Pressure pushes against my hole, and I tense, even though it doesn’t feel bad.
“Deep breaths,” says MacLeod. “It’s going to burn, but just keep breathing.”
I do as I’m told. The pressure intensifies.
“Breathe. Don’t fight it. Let it happen.”
I breathe as deeply as I can. Filling my lungs up, expanding my chest. Pressure turns into a burn.
“Unclench your jaw.”
I do. Then there is something almost like a popping sensation. The pressure eases. Weight and heat slide into me just a little.
MacLeod grunts. “That’s it. Good boy.”
I gasp and moan. His voice is making my insides do strange things, I suspect mostly shift around to make room for him.
“Keep breathing. You are doing great. You can take it.”
A whimper bubbles out of me. A good whimper. MacLeod is hot and heavy inside me. He is stretching me. Filling me. And nothing has ever felt so good. And his deep voice is vibrating through me, sinking into my soul and completing me. I’m soaring and it’s divine.
He makes another grunt of pleasure, and it curls my toes. I did that. I’m making him feel good.
“Nearly there,” he growls as he gives me another inch. “Just a bit more.”
More? Flipping heck. I swear he is already well past my belly button. But I’m up for more. Pleasure is flooding my veins. This feels like a religious experience. I’m greedy for more.
“Good boy. You’ve taken all of me.”
He holds motionless over me. His cock buried deep in my ass. Both of his hands are by my head now, caging me in.
Strange sensations are happening in my guts. The burn and sting are easing. He didn’t look that big, but he definitely feels it. I like the feeling. It is very satisfying.
My hips twitch. My throat makes a primal noise. My hands twist on the headboard.
MacLeod makes a sound. Our eyes meet. The almost-smirk is now a fully-fledged smirk.
“There you are. You’re ready now.”
He rocks against me, and I fly among the stars. He fucks me. Not roughly, but not gently either. Steadily. Competently. Decisively. Expertly, methodically working towards making both of us shoot our loads.
I have never felt anything like this. It is incredible. My whole body is tingling. Now it is sparking and…
I cum. Hard. So hard I don’t only see stars, I see the Big Bang and the beginning of creation.
MacLeod groans, his hips fall into a frantic, unsteady rhythm. Then he shudders and falls still, head hanging, lungs heaving.
We freeze into a tableau of breathless wantonness.
Time slowly starts ticking again. The universe reforms into a new reality. One where I let my boss fuck me and I loved every second of it.
“Let’s get you in the shower. I want to soap you up and play with your cock,” he says. “You’re young enough to cum again.”
“Okay,” I squeak.
Because MacLeod says, and I do. It is the new way of things.