Taming the Lion (12 page)

“It’s okay, Jon. We don’t have to fuck. “

“I’m sorry. Don’t take this the wrong way, but not using protection… It’s a big step in a relationship for me, and I’m not quite ready to take it yet.”

“You don’t need to explain. I like that you’re not prepared to take chances with something so important. But now I want you to stop talking and just let me make you feel good.”

With that, Kaspar completed the process of removing Jon’s lower garments before stripping out of his own. Jon couldn’t help thinking how relaxed Kaspar looked out of his clothes, so comfortable in his nakedness.

He closed his eyes as Kaspar set about giving him a sensual tongue bath, licking his way down Jon’s lower belly and along the insides of his thighs, though he was careful to give a wide berth to Jon’s cock and balls. Every time Jon expected to feel Kaspar’s hot mouth in the place where he needed it most, his lover pulled away.

“Kaspar, please…” he begged.

“Tell me what you want,” Kaspar said.

“I need to have my cock in your mouth. Do it, Kaspar. Suck me, Kaspar, and I’ll suck you, too.”

Kaspar quirked his lips, his smile wicked. “I like the sound of that.”

They rearranged themselves so they lay on their sides top to tail, facing each other. Though Kaspar had a few inches in height on him, the difference wasn’t great enough to make things awkward. Kaspar’s hard shaft was tantalizingly close to Jon’s face. Jon pushed out his tongue and swiped it across Kaspar’s silken tip. Juice beaded there, slick and salty, and he lapped it up, craving more.

In response, Kaspar threw a long leg over Jon’s body. He swallowed Jon’s crown in one smooth movement, causing Jon to sigh around the hard flesh in his own mouth.

Gradually, Jon took more of Kaspar, until his cheek bulged and his nostrils were full of his lover’s hot, musky scent. He ran his hands over Kaspar’s body, caressing the smooth, golden flesh. All the while, the sun continued to beat down on them both and above their heads, a skylark trilled out its glorious song.

Kaspar had let Jon’s cock slip from his mouth in favor of licking over and around his arsehole. Jon couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done anything quite so rude to him and his little moans around Kaspar’s dick became louder and more urgent.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kaspar said, breaking off from his teasing tongue play. “My gorgeous Jon, helpless to do anything but come for me…”

He wasn’t close to coming, not really, but the words spurred him on. He sucked Kaspar harder, using his fingers to scratch Kaspar’s balls. They were pulled up tight, ready to release their seed.

When Kaspar replaced his questing tongue with a saliva-slick finger, which he pushed past Jon’s tight ring and into his anal channel, Jon surrendered to the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. His cum arced out, the pearly drops spattering Kaspar’s skin.

A heartbeat later, his lover’s semen, thick and tangy, flooded Jon’s mouth. He gulped down as much as he could before wiping his lips clean with the back of his hand.

They lay curled in the grass together, Jon resting his head on Kaspar’s stomach. He looked up at the sky, watching soft wisps of cloud drift overhead.

The Dutchman purred contentedly, reminding Jon of his mother’s pet cat, Socks, who would make a similar noise when her belly was stroked.

How nice it would be to lie here forever…
Jon’s eyelids drooped and he would have nodded off but for the insistent buzzing of Kaspar’s phone.

“Don’t answer that,” he murmured.

Kaspar had already pulled the phone from his jeans pocket and was studying the display. “I have to. It’s work.” He sounded apologetic. “Hi, Marina… She is? Yeah, I can cover for her… I’ll be there by five, no problem. See you.”

“Don’t tell me. They need you at the bar.”

“Lola was supposed to be on shift tonight but she’s just called in sick. Sorry, Jon, but I couldn’t say no—not when Marina’s been so good to me.”

Jon reached for his underwear, his idyll shattered. “Okay, let’s get you home.”

* * * *

Kaspar sat in silence for most of the journey back into Bath. Jon wondered whether he was feeling guilty about bringing such an abrupt end to their date by agreeing to go into work. He took his gaze away from the road ahead long enough to say, “Is something troubling you?”

“Not really. But I can’t help thinking about the standing stones. I get that they were a place of worship but why anyone would choose to believe in a lion god?”

“Well, the lion actually has a place in quite a number of religions. To the ancient Egyptians, it acted as a symbol of war, while to the Hindus it offered protection in time of need. But what all these different deities have in common is that they were admired for their strength and power. And it’s not too surprising that the lion was venerated in this part of the country. The animal’s been associated with Bath pretty much since the city was founded.”

Kaspar said nothing. The people here must have known of his kind when they’d raised the circle of stones. Far from seeking to hunt the shifters down, as the citizens of Amsterdam had done, they’d actively worshiped them.

“So what happened to the pagans?”

“When the Romans invaded, they brought their own ideas and beliefs with them, and gradually Britain became a Christian country. Oh, the Vikings had a go at establishing their particular brand of religion here, of course, but over time, most of the pagan gods were forgotten about. In the last hundred years or so, though, there’s been a serious revival of paganism.”

“Really?”

“Yes, although a lot of pagans practicing today like to call themselves Wiccans, which isn’t quite the same thing. Wicca has more of an emphasis on elements of classical magic and witchcraft. A lot of teenage girls get into it because they like the idea of being able to cast love spells, or they’ve read too many books about moody, sexy vampires or some such nonsense.”

“You don’t sound like you approve.”

“Kaspar, if people want to have any kind of religion or none at all, that’s fine by me. I know that spiritual beliefs can offer comfort and certainty or help people make sense of a world they don’t understand. I just don’t like it when it becomes a fad, or when it’s used as a means of persecuting others.” He let out a heavy breath. “Sorry, I’m getting on my soapbox, aren’t I?”

“That’s okay. But do you think there’s any possibility the Foolish Brothers are being used as a place of worship after so many years?”

Whatever Kaspar had felt when he’d been close to the standing stones, it had obviously spooked him. Seeking to offer reassurance, Jon replied, “I honestly couldn’t say, but I doubt it. It’s never been a site of major significance in the wider pagan world, not like Stonehenge. And I firmly believe most of the accounts of what’s supposed to have happened at Stanton Combe were made up. I have a book in my office at the university that I could lend you. Read it and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Thanks. I’d like that.”

Almost without noticing it, they’d reached the street where Kaspar lived. Jon found a parking place and brought the car to a halt. “Don’t worry, Kaspar. Even if someone is making an attempt to summon the old gods, they’re hardly likely to be sacrificing people in the process, are they?”

Chapter Fifteen

Jase leaned against the wall, doing his best to look like any other clubber who’d popped outside for a smoke. As he took a long drag on his e-cigarette, he looked up and down Milsom Street, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be in the market for his services. Trade had been slow the last couple of weeks. He’d always believed people wanted more sex when the weather heated up, not less, but it didn’t seem to be the case.

He checked himself out in the nearest window.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m losing my looks.
The thought filled him with genuine horror. Okay, so he was no longer the fresh-faced eighteen year old he’d been when he’d first started selling his body, but he’d looked after himself pretty well in the intervening four years. Regular trips to the gym, facials, sessions in a tanning booth… Jase peered at his reflection a little more closely, convinced he saw a little wrinkle appearing between his perfectly groomed eyebrows. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about a spot of Botox.

Sighing, he switched off the cigarette and tucked it back into his top pocket. A couple more minutes, and he’d go back inside. In truth, this wasn’t his favorite bar. He preferred løve, where the prices were more reasonable and the hottest guys hung out. But the owner there had a strictly enforced ‘no drugs’ policy. And right now, he was in need of a line of coke to keep him buzzing.

Jase twisted the gold ring adorning the thumb of his left hand—a present from his parents on his eighteenth birthday. It was a reflex gesture, born of irritation and anxiety, and one he was usually only aware of when someone pointed it out.

Footsteps approached, and he looked over to see a man striding with purpose toward him. Jase smiled to himself.
Looks like business is about to pick up.

“Have you got the time?” It was the oldest line in the book, delivered in a well-spoken accent.

He didn’t know why, but for some reason he’d always attracted older, educated types. This bloke was a textbook example, with his expensive coat and shoes polished to a mirrored shine. Jase fixed him with the look that had become one of the most powerful tools in his armory—a coquettish glance from under lowered eyelids. “If you’ve got the money,” he replied.

The man gave a wry chuckle. “So we understand each other. But I’m looking for a very particular boy tonight.”

“Let me know what you want. I can be whoever you want me to be. And it’s twenty for a hand job, fifty for…”

The man raised a hand, cutting him off. “I need someone who’s into…shall we say…group activities?”

“Not a problem,” Jase stated flatly. He knew a couple of guys who were strictly into one-on-one sex, but he’d never understood that attitude. The more men, the more he could charge, in his experience. He still recalled with pleasure an orgy he’d attended in one of the big Regency houses up on the Circus. The money he’d earned that night had paid for a week’s holiday topping up his tan in the Caribbean.

“Good.” The man smirked. “My car’s parked just down the road, if you’d like to come with me.”

“Sure But if you don’t mind, I usually like to arrange payment up front.”

“Oh, but of course…” The man reached into his inside coat pocket and brought out a roll of twenty-pound notes. Jase watched him count out an amount that ran into hundreds of pounds.

His client handed over the cash. “By the way, what’s your name, boy?”

“It’s Jase.”

“Jase…” The man rolled the word around his tongue, as though sampling a wine that might not meet with his approval. At last, he nodded. “You may call me Sir.”

So that’s the game you’re into, is it?
He’d lost count of the number of men he’d serviced who had some kinky discipline fantasy or other. Not that it bothered him. He’d happily bend over to have his arse spanked. His only rule was that the client didn’t leave any marks.

They walked away from the busy main drag, where music pumped from brightly lit bars and queues were already beginning to form outside the more popular nightclubs. The man came to a halt by a dark saloon car.

“Can I ask where we’re going?” Jase asked. When he got no response at first, he added, “Sir.”

“Friend of mine owns a little cottage in the country. Everyone will be waiting for us there.”

He nodded.
Looks like this is going to be an all-nighter
. Mentally, he added a little extra to his fee.

Before Jase could ask any more questions, his client turned on the car radio, effectively signaling that he didn’t want to make conversation. Classical music boomed out, something big and pompous that Jase recognized from a car advert on TV.

He paid enough attention to the road signs they passed to know they were heading in the direction of Stanton Combe. When he’d been at junior school, his class had been taken on a trip there to see the standing stones. Something about the place had given him the creeps. Matty Donald, who knew everything, had said there were dead bodies buried there, and at night, they rose from their graves and walked around. Jase hadn’t known whether to believe him or not, but now, as the Foolish Brothers came into view, like jagged teeth beneath the full moon, he thought back to his classmate’s spooky stories and shivered despite the warmth in the car.

“Nearly there now,” Sir said, seeming to pay attention to him for the first time. “Everyone will be so pleased to see you.”

He took a turning down a narrow, rutted lane. Eventually, he came to a halt outside a small cottage. Jase got out of the vehicle, wishing he’d had the opportunity to get his hands on some drugs before they’d set off. He felt anxious and twitchy, and he knew he’d need a bit of assistance if Sir and his friends wanted him to stay hard for any length of time. Then he smiled as he remembered there were still a couple of Viagra in the condom case he always carried with him.

One of those should do the trick.

The moment they were through the cottage’s front door, he was ushered upstairs, depriving him of the opportunity to pop the blue pill. He climbed the stairs in the company of a big, gray-haired bear of a man with a bushy beard and a florid complexion. Though no one had said as much, Jase realized he must have been the owner of the property.

The man didn’t give his name, or say much beyond, “Come with me and we’ll get you nice and clean.” Jase mentally christened him Yogi.

A bath had already been run for him. Under Yogi’s watchful eye, he stripped naked and climbed into the warm water. Jase expected the man to leave the bathroom at that point. Instead, he knelt at the side of the tub and started to lather Jase’s skin with a bar of soap.

Yogi’s touch was soothing. Jase closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensual feeling of being bathed. None of his clients had ever wanted this as part of a scene, but it was one of the most erotic things that had ever happened to him. Beneath the surface of the water, his dick stirred and lengthened.