Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (28 page)

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 158

their out of control desire they’d probably spew sperm all over the

limo’s backseat and pass out before they arrived at the said dangerous

destination. If they hesitated, poor Roland would be fighting off

robbers for the hubcaps. Better they remain here and fuck in safety.

“Look, close your eyes and lean against those raincoats.”

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian saluted Greg and sank into the supportive

mass. Visions of hot lava, hissing eruptions, and violent mating scenes

from nature shows tripped across his mental screen. Fur flew. Blood

splashed. Growls and snarls echoed in his ears. Did those shows ever

display male tigers seeking sexual bliss? Come on, fucking like tigers

was a common phrase, right, or was the…

Wait, those nature programs always showed a lion attacking and

eating an antelope or some other cute animal. Why not talk first?

Maybe sex solved all problems. Sex solved so many problems. If the

UN fucked instead of rambling on, poof, there, problems solved.

Sebastian groaned. Shit, his cock needed to stop trying to undo his

buttons. What had Dom fed them?

Greg frantically sought a secure tying off point for the rope. Did

the metal shelves on either side of the room seem sturdy enough to

support an in-air fuck session? He yanked, yanked as hard as he

planned on fucking the sexy man sprawled among the coats.

Excellent, brilliant, ye-fucking-ha, bless wall-mounted shelves.

Sharp object. He needed a sharp object. There, the badminton

spike looked perfect. Greg measured out lengths of rope. His logical

mind rose above his dancing lust and reminded him to allow length

for wrapping around slim ankles and wrists. Yeah, good call. He

sawed and measured.

Time for the main event.

Aw shit. Greg doubted if the game room closet held lube and a

condom.

“What are ya doin’, man? I feel ready for something super-duper

special.”

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“I’m almost ready, sexy. Hold on.”

Sebastian grasped his cloth-covered cock and moaned in

frustration. “Not a great idea.”

The manager swore Dom’s lethal aphrodisiac damaged brain

functionality. “Stop fondling yourself! Save the magic for me.”

“Then hurry the fuck up already!”

Wait. Greg peered at a top shelf. No way. Yes way. Hold on, why

did a tube of lube and a package of condoms dwell on the shelf? His

logic ran forward again and waved yellow flags. Dom had ordered

them to switch roles. Dom slipped them a powerful aphrodisiac. Now

Dom supplied the tools for a successful fuck?

Greg’s stare slid around the small, crowded room. No. Surely he

experienced paranoia from the aphrodisiac. He performed the honors.

There, ready to go. “Come on, sleeping beauty, time to climb into

your nest.”

Sebastian peered through his hair in vague awareness. He

wondered if he still dwelled on terra firma.

Greg fluttered his fingers against the singer’s eyelids. “No

peeking.”

“Okay.” Sebastian wondered why his voice sounded like a tattered

linen hankie. He swore all his power drained into his stiff cock. Not a

bad thing, not at all. His cock felt more like an arm. Weird.

Greg’s hands secured Sebastian’s wrists first, hiding the bony

wrists under a few loops. The ankles came next, Greg looping the rope

around the fine black silk dress socks. Sebastian moaned and shook in

delight.

Talk about a wild fantasy! Greg stepped back and admired the

view. There hung Sebastian Warchylde, wild man, tabloid darling and

Grammy-winning speed metal rocker tied up and ready to fuck.

Greg’s fingers slowly undid the strained crotch buttons. He always

wondered what hung between Sebastian’s long legs.

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His imagination never dreamed of the thick bounty lurking under

the usual leather pants. Hell, Greg knew certain singers enhanced their

assets. Not Sebastian. His cock defined world class. The menace

pointed up in missile readiness.

Tonight the projectile would soar into empty space. As much as

Greg wanted Sebastian inside him tonight Greg wanted to experience

claiming Sebastian. He needed to conquer his feeling of inadequacy.

He needed to fuck his dream man.

“Ready, sexy?”

“Yeah, please, hurry up.”

Not so fast.

Fingers took their time unbuttoning the fine suit jacket and vest.

They removed the expensive red silk tie. Greg snorted in amusement

and ripped open Sebastian’s white silk shirt. His fingertips savored the

taut, lightly-sweating flesh. Of course the vain bitch shaved his chest

but mmm, not recently. Dark stubble rasped against Greg’s exploring

flesh. Lovely.

Greg’s palms took over and pressed hard against Sebastian’s

toned chest. He drummed nipples into peaked arousal. Why had Greg

waited to confess his lust for Sebastian? Why?

Time to cease asking why. Time to claim. Time to bask in glory.

Greg walked behind Sebastian and hugged him close. His teeth bit the

thick, black hair flooding over broad shoulders. “Are you ready for

me?”

“Come on, slow poke. But don’t poke me slow.” Sebastian’s

coherency dissolved into gasping, manic giggles. “Get it?”

“Got it.” Why not? Greg held out as much material as possible and

sliced open his cock’s path. He never realized the sharpness of a

ground spike. He dropped the spike and ripped open his new prize.

Should he prep Sebastian with a few fingers? Fuck it, judging by

Sebastian’s raspy moans the singer already teetered on a sexual edge.

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No time for prep. A few swift fondles acquainted his fingers with

Sebastian’s ass.

His fingers opened the way. Greg slid his cock between the

delectable asscheeks. Sebastian’s loud moan encouraged him. Did a

camera record their bliss? Probably.

Wait.

Applause and cheers echoed beyond the closet’s back wall. Just as

he feared, the game room audience watched the performance. Fuck.

So what? Greg pushed his hips forward. His stiff cock invaded

Sebastian’s tight warmth. No surprise, Greg sensed Sebastian usually

performed the fucking. Last year he remembered watching Sebastian

and that bitch Nonce create seductive magic on the pool table. Seeing

the act spiked Greg’s jealousy. He walked in, saw the stunt, and

stormed out. He should have yanked Nonce free and taken his place.

Instead Greg ran into this closet and cried.

No more. On this summer evening Greg lived the reality. He

fucked the sexy singer.

The back and forth motion lulled Sebastian into a beautiful trance.

He remembered flying on a swing through Yorkshire’s crisp, sharp

air. His Daddy always pushed him until Sebastian feared he might flip

up and wrap around the upper metal support pole.

Not now. His rope-trapped body jerked forward a few inches and

sprung back. No great flying motions upset the moment, no, simply

short jabs worked his sweating flesh. Who fucked him in such careful

precision? Right, Suit Slut Greg Myers, manager to the stars, tamer of

naughty Warchyldes.

During his outrageous pleasure, Greg imagined himself as a

powerful spider impaling the insect caught in his web. Yeah, female

spiders did the stinging, so what. His royal male stinger plunged in

over and over and over, seeking sensitive spots in order to pleasure,

not pain. Fingers more accustomed to holding pens slid up and down

flesh-coated ribs, playing the rises, up and down, pausing to tweak

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and twist nipples. Greg’s hands turned Sebastian’s wet torso into a

fuck accordion. Play on. His left hand dropped to play a few bass

notes on Sebastian’s stiff cock.

The men shook in ascending merger. Cock hit inner sweet spot,

hit and rang the closing bell. Sebastian bellowed loud enough to

frighten the mice in the expensive rafters.

The astonished manager came from sheer surprise. Their mutual

gasps faded into completion until their breathing imitated exhausted

Olympic marathoners. More cheers and applause seeped into the

closet. At least Greg worked for the party’s host. No fear of being

fired if someone leaked the video.

His arms clasped Sebastian tight against his torso. “Damned noisy

bitch!”

Laughter surrounded the men. “Damned fucking power drill.”

Huh? Greg frowned in confusion. Not quite how he envisioned his

fantasy but fine enough. His hands roamed over Sebastian’s wet chest.

“Sexy beast. Did you ever dream of me fucking you?”

“Are you kidding? I thought you had a prissy debutant waiting for

you each night to kiss your brow and cook meatloaf.”

“What? You’re nuts. Looks can be deceiving.”

“Duh. Come on, untie me, my wrists are chaffing.”

“Aww, what a delicate flower.” Greg backed out, performed the

honors and rested his spent condom on the floor. He knew the staff

would dispense with the aftermath. The released Sebastian collapsed

into his arms. They kissed for sweet, deranged moments. Hands

roamed over backs and asses in silent acknowledgment of their sexual

triumph. Cocks tucked away behind expensive cloth and leather.

What an unexpected way to begin the special party. Sebastian

nibbled Greg’s lips. “Now that we have arrived in our Bizarro world

finery, can we head upstairs and continue this action?”

“Absolutely.” They emerged into the hallway.

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Wait. “Why is the door closed?” Greg pushed at the unexpectedly

locked door. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We need to leave through the game room.”

“What? Why?”

“The door leading to the main house is suddenly locked.” Greg

cleared his throat. “Listen, I think they were watching us. In fact I

heard the cheers.”

What? Sebastian’s knees crumbled in panic. “Wait, they watched

you fuck me?”

“I think so. I heard cheers and applause.”

Another strange power flowed through Sebastian’s soul and

clobbered his uneasy embarrassment. “Well fine. We were great

together. I hope they appreciated the sensational show.” He planted a

kiss on Greg’s damp cheek. Sex rendered his manager deliciously

flushed. Seb never noticed how many freckles occupied Greg’s

cheeks. “Let’s retire to your room and see what happens next.”

Deliriously happy described Greg’s emotions. “Lead on.”

The sweaty, disheveled pair walked into the game room

accompanied by cheers, hoots and whistles. They bowed in

acknowledgement. Across the room the large screen TV showed the

empty closet. Sebastian wondered if anyone else planned to take

advantage of the ready to rock ropes.

“See, do I know how to pair ‘em or what?” Dom slapped both

men on the back. “I grant permission to resume your normal dress for

the party’s remainder.”

“Dom, if we have our way there will be no need for clothing,

right, Greg?”

Greg squeezed Sebastian close and blushed over his flush. Damn,

he hated blushing for no coherent reason. He burrowed his face in

Sebastian’s sex-tangled hair. The singer smelled like warm desire.

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Aww, how cute. Sebastian laughed in delight. Fuck the betraying

Nonce.

No, better yet, fuck Greg.

For a lovely, long time beyond tonight. Why not keep his loyal

manager close by? After all, pillow talk solved many problems. No

more rushing headlong into financial disaster. He planned to listen to

his new man’s logical advice.

The pair turned to leave. Sebastian shook his exposed ass to the

room. The cheers satisfied his ego.

Dom smiled in satisfaction and returned to the smiling Saudis.

Wait until his special guests saw what happened in the guest rooms.