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Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 01

By: WillScarlett



Elijah

I'd been going to hardcore punk shows since I started university three years ago.

There were two totally different hardcore scenes in my city -- the river divided the bright shopping centres from the seedy industrial complexes and there was a distinct culture for each side of the bridge.

The scene I was introduced to, had an emphasis on clean and moral living. Most of the guys were vegetarian at least and quite a few, like me, were straight-edge -- entirely sworn off alcohol and drugs. 

The other side of the bridge had a rougher scene; no all-ages venues and a reputation for drugs and violence. There was a large skinhead population and, although I knew in the modern day it was rare to meet a true racist thug I still knew those guys weren't the kind of people I wanted to be friends with.

Every few weeks an international -- or at least not local -- band would come to town. For that night the two scenes would converge on a single venue, No Way Out. 

It wasn't a way to mingle and make friends, it was a way to size up opposition. You couldn't be friends with guys from the wrong side of the bridge. That's just how it was.

I was at No Way Out the Friday night when I had my first kiss. 

A major American band were headlining and a couple bands from down South had come up for the occasion. The first two bands were local, a ska one from the other side of the bridge and a straight-edge one from ours. The organisers try and keep representation equal to reduce the risk of fights.

It was the third band of the night so the crowd had passed through the awkward standing phase and were now dancing like maniacs. A healthy fight pit had developed, the crowd pulling back from the stage to leave a semi-circle of free space where guys were throwing punches. I was proud to see they were all guys from our side of the bridge -- straight-edgers are always the first to rock out because they don't need beer to get them in the mood.

I was feeling really pumped, and it was my friend Pete's band up next -- I wanted to be in the mood by the time they got on stage, all warmed up and ready to fight. Pete was at the front of the crowd, not throwing punches in the fight pit -- not yet, that would come after he'd played and was on a high from the music -- but he was moving his whole large body with the beat and surging forward to chant along during the chorus or break down. 

I edged my way passed him, bouncing my head up and down and rocking my body with the beat, then threw myself past the protective boundary of the crowd and out into the fight pit. I ran forward, spinning my arms like a windmill, two-stepping with my feet. I felt pretty proud of myself for all of five seconds before someone else windmilled passed and knocked me straight backward.

Before I could hit the ground my head and shoulders were caught in strong hands, and a guy was hauling me back into the protective ring of crowd. He had me in a headlock with his other arm around my waist and was actually dragging me like I was a dead weight.

I scrabbled with my feet trying to get standing and he helped me, straightening up so my body was hauled upright. In the process his hand around my waist dropped down inside my shorts and I felt his fingers brushing the top of my boxers. My cock instantly jerked to attention. 

What the hell? Was that deliberate or an accident? I glanced down and saw the bright intricate tattoos across his arm -- a full sleeve from what I could see. I really like tattoos and I pay attention to them, especially since I got an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlour, and I was sure I'd never seen these before.

"You okay there little guy?" He grunted against my neck and I could smell the cigarettes and stale beer on his breath.

"Yeah," I muttered, twisting my head away from the smell. I realised his fingers were moving, gently stroking across the sensitive skin of my abdomen. What? Right here in front of everyone?

Two fingers slid under the waistband of my boxers. My whole body trembled. I was having trouble breathing, totally focused on the hand which seemed to be sending electric shocks through my groin.

I twisted my head around to see who this guy was, and nearly choked. There was no way we had ever met before, he was totally hot. I would have remembered him.

He was looking down at me with a smirk and the most intensely blue eyes I had ever seen. His eyebrows were dark and heavy, framing those gorgeous eyes. I felt a tug in my stomach, something like nerves. He was staring straight down at me, looking right into my eyes and his expression changed as if in surprise.

I heard a yell over the noise of the band and the crowd -- "Let him go." I looked up to see my friend Pete pushing his way through the crowd, skimming around the edge of the fight pit to get to us. He looked pissed.

My captor immediately let go of me, and I took a small step away from him, hunching my body and tugging down the hem of my loose shirt in the hope that I could hide my erection. I heard him mumbling, "Settle down."

"Get your fucking hands off him," Pete spat out. He hadn't looked at me, had walked up to the guy who grabbed me and was getting right up in his face. It was my first real chance to look at that guy -- he was tall, in bleached skinny jeans and a ratty white wife beater. He had a shaven head. Oh fuck.

People were watching. I saw the fight pit had broken up and the crowd was slowly gathering around us. The band were still going. It was loud and probably the crowd wouldn't hear what Pete was saying. But everyone could tell a fight was about to break out and they were picking sides.

I really didn't want to start a fight. I was feeling sick just thinking about it. "Pete," I said, leaning into his ear so he could hear me over the music and I wouldn't have to yell. "It's okay, he was just helping me up."

"I saw the way he was handling you."

"What?" I stammered, feeling my face flush. He'd noticed? I glanced over at the skinhead who had helped me up. He had his chin ducked so he was glaring out from beneath his dark eyebrows -- it was a popular pose with guys from their side of the bridge, defiant and insolent without being openly hostile. It made his eyes even more hypnotic.

"I was just helping your little friend up before he got stood on," The skinhead growled. I grabbed on to Pete's beefy arm and tugged, wanting him to head back to our side of the hall. The crowd was tightening up, skinhead guys gathering behind their friend, glaring at Pete. "Maybe next time I won't bother."

"You keep your filthy hands off him," Pete spat back. I could feel his body stiffening with anger, and his face was dark red and blotchy. I wanted to think he was angry because he was defensive of me, but truthfully he was just always looking for a reason to start something with the skinheads

When I looked behind me there was a bunch of our guys getting ready to fight, too -- Pete's band, Rob and a couple of my other friends. I swallowed. How could I stop this?

But then the band finished their song and the lead singer -- not one of our guys, they were a band from down South who had come up in support of the main act -- growled into the microphone, "Break this shit up." He was pointing at us. He was probably only a couple years older than us but he was on stage and that gave him authority.

Pete continued to glare as if he hadn't heard the singer, but his drummer Skeeta put a warning hand on his shoulder. The skinhead jerked his head in the direction of the stage with raised eyebrows, as if to say 'can't argue with that', and turned his back. His gang of friends left with him. I lost sight of them in the crowd.

Pete drew in a long steadying breath and turned to me. "You okay Eli?"

"Of course. He wasn't hurting me, you know that."

"Skinhead cunts," He grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. His face was red and blotchy with anger but he also was chewing his bottom lip which he only did when he was really stressed. "That guy's no good, I don't want you talking to someone with a rep like his."

I didn't know what to say to that so I didn't say anything. I was feeling awkward, not wanting to make things worse but not really knowing how to making anything better. 

Pete threw an arm over my shoulder and led me away from the stage. "Come out back and help me get ready?"

Pete would let me hang out with his band at practices and backstage. I couldn't play instruments worth a damn but I loved hardcore music and being part of the scene -- Pete had introduced me to it in my first year of uni and I'd been hooked ever since. I thought of him as my best friend and, even though big guys weren't my type, I'd been nursing a crush on him for years. I loved hanging out with him and his band.

We had to edge around the crowd to get to the stage and the door, but once inside the back area it was empty and the sound of the crowd was shut off. I followed Pete down the narrow corridors to his band room. There were some of their instruments in the room and a lot of stored junk.

"Eli, I need to talk to you," He said as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. I just stood there in the small room, looking around at the band posters.

His voice sounded strained. "Listen, you know when that skinhead guy was touching you..."

"Forget it, he was just helping me up, it's not worth talking about," I gabbled. I didn't want to be the cause of a fight.

"He had his hands all over you and it made me really angry, and - "

"I know," I cut in. "But I don't care, he's just a jerk and not worth starting a fight over."

"Listen to me, Eli," Pete demanded. He took a step forward and rested his meaty hands on my shoulders. He was a lot taller than me, my eyes were level with his collar bone and I had to look up to see his face. He was looking at me with a slightly glazed expression, still biting his lower lip. I could feel his body trembling. "Eli, it's not that. When I saw that guy touching you, putting his hand down your pants."

I blushed in shame and turned my head but Pete kept talking.

"I got so angry I wanted to punch him, I wanted to hurt him real bad. And it's not because he's one of them touching one of ours. It's because... Because I don't want anyone to touch you like that. Anyone but me."

He drew a deep breath and put his hand on my chin to turn my face back toward him. When he spoke again his voice was very soft and there was a note of pleading in it. "Eli, promise me you won't let anyone else touch you. The thought of it..."

"Are... Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?" My voice was so strangled I didn't recognise it.

"Yup." Pete made an odd choking noise and, suddenly, he was lowering his head to mine and I felt his lips against mine, the prickling of his beard and moustache and the big swoop in my stomach which told me yes, at last, I was having my first kiss.

As soon as Pete's lips touched mine there was a loud banging in the corridor, and he leaped away from me. The door to the band room opened and the rest of the band members walked in. I looked at Pete and he was blushing furiously but not looking at me. He turned to greet his mates and I, confused, bent over the bass case and fiddled with the buckles.

Skeeta was complaining about leaving his best drum sticks in Pete's car so I grabbed the keys off him and headed out, wanting to get away from that tiny room and clear my head.

The back stage area let out onto the car park so I headed out there.

I knew Pete's white Corolla well, even though he lived on the other side of town and didn't give me rides often. I headed straight to it, found the sticks in the backseat and turned back to the hall.

"Hey, you play drums?"

It was the skinhead from before. He was leaning against the wall, smoking. Alone.

"No, my friend Pete. My boyfriend," I amended. My belly had done a flip when I'd looked at him, and I was very aware that we were alone here with no-one else within shouting distance. Maybe I was as paranoid about skinheads as the rest of my friends were, or maybe it was those deep blue eyes which were making me shiver.

"That fat hairy guy is your boyfriend?"

"He's not fat," I defended instantly. I glared at the skinhead. He was smirking. That was pretty rich coming from him, he wasn't the skinniest guy himself -- he had muscular, defined arms but that ratty singlet clung to him and showed a distinct pot belly. That stupid singlet, with its frayed hem and clusters of little holes revealing smooth pale skin beneath...

I didn't want to stare at his belly so I drew my eyes up to his face. I noticed for the first time that he had stretched ears, flesh tunnels through his lobes about 000 gauge, a centimetre wide -- smaller than mine, but as big as you'd want to go with a shaven head and no hair to stop your ears looking like cup handles. Perfect. He was so hot. 

I forced myself to look away, thinking of a skinhead like that was a good way to get myself bashed. I adjusted my grip on the sticks and hoped the guy hadn't noticed me staring at him.

There was an awkward silence, then I heard him say, "I'm Damien. Like The Omen."

I looked back at him, to see he had extended a hand to shake. His right arm, the one without tattoos. But I did notice some scabs on his fingers and inner elbow. 

It seemed oddly formal to shake hands, but I reached my right hand out too. "Elijah, like in The Lord of the Rings," I felt my face going red as I stammered, "I mean, like the actor who plays in the Lord of the Rings." 

Damien gripped my hand in his and shook once then pulled out to turn the handshake into a fist pump. I realised what he was doing and mirrored the movement but a moment too late, I was gripping air for a few seconds and I fumbled the fist pump. I felt myself blushing even deeper -- I was such a loser!

I gabbled to hide my confusion. "I'm sorry Pete was acting like a jerk before, he was just worried you were hurting me."

Damien barked out a laugh. He tilted his head forward in that characteristic way, all intense blue eyes under dark eyebrows. "That's not what he was worried I was doing to you."

I coughed and looked down at my battered Chucks, not at all sure where this conversation was going. "What do you mean?" I asked, because I knew that's what Damien was waiting for.

"Your friend was worried I was going to lay a hand on that virgin ass of yours. He's damn right to be worried, too."

Suddenly my heart was beating too fast and I felt dizzy. I gaped at the sexy skinhead I had never seen before tonight, wondering what kind of game he was playing. Was he baiting me into a gay bashing? I thought I'd kept it pretty well hidden. For that matter, was it obvious I was a virgin?

I didn't know what to do or think, but I sure as hell knew it wasn't a good idea to come out to some angry skinhead from the wrong side of the bridge when there were no friends around to protect me. So I just stammered a rebuttal, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes you do," He growled in reply, and cupped his crotch in the hand that was holding a cigarette. I felt my stomach tightening and my body involuntarily shuddering in arousal as I looked at that intricately tattooed arm, the hand cupping the large bulge in his tight white jeans, the way the cigarette tip glowed and drew attention to his crotch in this dim light. I was sure the image was one which would be seared on my mind forever.

"I gotta take these sticks in, my friend's band's up next," I stammered, and I bolted past Damien to the hall's back door.

He called out my name as I reached the door, and I saw him moving like he wanted to catch up with me, but I just ignored him.

He was hot, there was no denying it. But he was also trouble, and my best mate had just kissed me. I tried to just forget about him -- I'd probably never see him again anyway.

But a part of me hoped I did. Oh, he was hot. 

The day after the show, after my first kiss, Pete called me to chat. I thought he'd want to explain what happened but he didn't mention it and I didn't know how to bring it up. But he did invite me to band practice the next day.

I loved going to band practice at Pete's house. I'd sit around while the guys jammed, bringing over food and they'd teach me cords and show me stuff they were working on -- I think they really liked having an audience.

Pete lived in a room detached from his parents house and his parents were cool with him playing loud music. There were four members in the band, and with all their equipment including a complete electronic drum kit it was a tight fit in the small room. 

I'd normally sit and watch from Pete's bed, really just a mattress on the floor of the room with a heap of blankets on it. The tv was propped up at the end so you could sit on the bed or lie flat on your stomach to play PlayStation.

After practice I stayed behind to help clean up -- that was normal enough, but I was feeling nervous because it was the first time I was alone with Pete since he'd kissed me. We tidied up chip bowls then he challenged me to a game of Tekken. I flopped down on the bed and grabbed a controller.

I was sitting with my legs tucked in front of me so I could rest my chin on my knees, and Pete lay down beside me on his belly. I could smell his sweat from playing the bass so hard in the warm room, I realised he smelled really manly and it was turning me on. I tried to ignore it but I was getting a bit of an erection just smelling him, so I was glad I was crouched up and my dick was hidden.

We played a couple rounds then Pete put his controller down on the bed and lifted up onto his forearms, and wiggled out of his shirt. He had to wriggle around to get the shirt off from that uncomfortable position and I couldn't help but glance down, watch as his skin got exposed. His track pants were slung low and I could see the top of his butt crack.

I made myself look back up the screen and willed myself not to do anything embarrassing in front of my buddy. He picked up his controller and we resumed play, then he said, "You could get more comfortable, if you want."

I missed a button and his character got in beneath my defences. I tapped pause. Nervously, I started struggling out of my tee shirt. I pulled it off and dropped it onto the mattress beside me. I picked my controller back up and looked at Pete. He was looking at the screen, trying to win, but he kept glancing at me to check out my tanned chest and arms.

We played a couple more rounds and I kept winning. Pete wasn't very good. Despite the fact he owned the game he didn't seem to have learned any moves and seemed to just be button mashing. At one point he started wriggling his hips, like he had an itch on his belly he wanted to scratch but didn't want to take his hands off the controller. I looked down and saw that his motion was edging his track pants down further, exposing more of his butt crack with its smattering of dark hair. 

I only realised I was staring when Pete caught me at it. He met my eyes and I felt myself blushing dark again. I tried to discreetly move my hips to ease the pressure on my dick which was now definitely hard. I could feel my palms getting slippery on the controller with nervous sweat and my heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my throat. It suddenly seemed like the room was very small, and very hot.

I looked back at the screen in time to see my guy getting knocked straight over, solid KO. I wrinkled my nose up in annoyance but Pete started cheering, he leaped up onto his knees and did a kind of victory dance with his arms up in the air. His chest was covered in dark curly hair and there was a thick bush of hair beneath each arm pit. He was standing on the knees of his trackies and they were now so low on his hips that I could see the top of his pubic bush.


Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 01



He was fist pumping then turned and caught me staring at his crotch. I tucked my knees up tighter to try and hide my erection, but Pete grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me backward onto the mattress. I don't think he meant to be rough but he was a big guy, and the force was enough to knock the breath out of me. I sprawled out on my back and he clambered on top of me, staring down into my face.

I licked my lips nervously and Pete's eyes narrowed as he focused in on the movement. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were slightly parted and I think I whimpered when I felt his warm, scratchy mouth pressing down onto me. He tasted like salt and vinegar potato chips. 

I could feel his sweaty bare chest pressing against my skin, his hair crunchy like how I'd imagine a bed of moss to be, whenever he shifted his weight slightly his body rubbed across mine and that chest hair sent tickling sensations all over me. I could even feel his armpit hair, thick warm nests against my shoulders from where his arms were spread out across the bed over me.

Pete kissed me for a few minutes then leaned back on his elbows. "I've been wanting to do that all day," He grinned at me, and my heart leaped. "You're so hot Eli."

He slid onto his side on the mattress, facing me. I rolled over so I was on my side too and timidly raised a hand to his beard, stroking a finger over the rough stubble. It felt wiry, like egg noodles. I could never grow a beard and I'd often wondered what they felt like, to grow one or to have it rub against your skin. I was fascinated with the way the short hairs parted and shifted around my finger, I couldn't stop staring and stroking.

Pete grinned at my obvious arousal and said, "You like my beard, don't you?"

I nodded nervously and glanced down at the thick curly dark hair on his chest, then blushed when I heard him start laughing.

"I can tell, you know," He said huskily as he leaned in close to me and licked along below my ear. "You always look at my beard and stare when I'm taking my shirt off."

I laughed nervously. I had thought I hid it well. But it didn't seem like he was about to beat me up.

I let my hand slide down his neck to his beefy arm as my eyes wandered freely over his body. His belly was rounded and his thick biceps were covered in red textured bumps, like shaving rash or ingrown hairs. Dark curly hair covered his whole chest from collarbone to belly button. I wanted to bury my face in it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Pete pulled me back to him for a kiss, and as we kissed his hands started roaming my body, stroking my smooth tanned skin and moving to play with my nipples. His fingers stroked across my left nipple and my whole body jerked at the sensation, it was like a sharp electric shock. I whimpered into his mouth and clutched at his chest, my fingers twining through his chest hair. It felt thick and a bit dry and scratchy, totally different to anything on my own body. 

I found one of his nipples and stroked it the way Pete was touching me, and he moaned aloud. He grabbed my hand and, in one sudden movement, shoved it down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. My hand touched his dick and I gasped in shock while Pete let out a loud moan.

"Do that again," Pete muttered, although I was having trouble hearing him through the ringing in my ears. I couldn't believe I was finally doing this. 

My hand had frozen from the shock of touching that hot column of flesh. I swallowed and tried to steady my trembling, to think past my dizziness and focus on touching a penis for the first time in my life.

I pulled his stretchy waistband down and stared at Pete's pulsing cock. It was fat and sort of torpedo shaped, uncircumcised and thick with veins. When I wrapped my hand around it, Pete groaned and collapsed backward. I looked up at him in alarm but saw there was a giant goofy grin on his face and his eyes were half closed.

His dick felt totally different to mine -- I was uncut too but my own foreskin barely covered the tip of my erect penis. Pete had so much foreskin that it extended well past the tip of his penis. I wanted to see his head so I gripped his shaft firmly and ran my hand down. The excess of foreskin gathered up around his shaft and made it feel soft and squishy.

There were bubbles of skin around the underside of the head, like tiny pimples. I ran the pad of my thumb over them, across the sensitive skin where his foreskin met the head, but I couldn't feel the bubbles. I stuck my tongue out to see if I could feel them that way.

Pete groaned loudly and I suddenly became aware of what I was doing -- I was so focused, I hadn't realised I'd just licked his dick! I felt myself flushing up. I looked into Pete's face and saw his expression clouded with desire. He was so clearly aroused, it made my stomach lurch in delight. He wanted me?

I held his dick firm in my hand and started stroking, guiding the loose foreskin up and down his shaft, trying to reveal as much of the head of his penis as possible each time. I watched my tanned hand stroking Pete's dick, watched the foreskin moving and the dark purple head being revealed then hidden again. It was hypnotic.

I thought about licking it again, but I was nervous. What if he wanted me to suck it? I could barely fit my hand around it. Instead I wriggled my body around to lie beside Pete, pressing my chest against his side and resting my head on his beefy arm. I kept stroking his dick and when he looked into my face and met my eyes he smiled lazily and kissed me. Just like that, I was kissing a guy and stroking his dick.

He broke the kiss to whisper, "Eli, you're so hot. It's so great when you touch me." 

I grinned and kept stroking his penis. I was filled with excitement and pleasure at the way his breathing changed.

"Eli, faster baby," He grunted then kissed me harder -- grabbing the back of my head and pulling me into him so our lips were sliding over each other, so soft yet solid.

I sped the motion of my hand up, it felt different to jerking myself and at this angle a different muscle group was being used, my arm started getting tired and I switched to my left arm for better access. Pete rolled his head around and groaned in pleasure so I knew he didn't mind.

It felt like his dick was getting harder in my hand and I wondered if maybe he wasn't fully hard, that that was the reason it seemed like he had so much foreskin. But then I felt his body tensing up and realised he must be close to orgasm.

He stopped kissing me but kept his grip on my head, his fingers caught up in my long hair and pushed my head into his shoulder as his body jerked and he came. I had to twist my head to see, but I watched as ropes of gloopy white semen burst out of his cock. The first spurt hit just above his belly button and it was quickly followed by two more, one on his treasure trail and one in his pubic hair. There were some dribbles which got on my fingers, too.

I watched as the semen seemed to melt into his dark curly hair. At first that semen had seemed all connected, ropes of goo which was thinner in places and more like blobs in others. But now it was cooling it was more transparent and liquid, like a glaze over Pete's hairy belly with only some globs visible caught in his curls. I wondered what it would be like to lick it out of his fur.

"It's cum," I heard Pete grumble into my ear. "You've seen it before."

I met his eyes and he was grinning. I stammered, "I've seen my own, but never... You know..."

"I know," He replied simply, and pulled my face in for another kiss. It was long and slow and I suddenly became aware of my own dick, pulsing and dribbling in my boxers and desperate for attention. 

I wondered if Pete was going to touch me now, how I should go about asking. I was nervous again, nor sure how to ask or even if I wanted him to touch me -- I wanted to get off, but I didn't want him to laugh if my dick was too small or not want to touch it because it looked so different to his.

I started panicking and my mouth went dry. I stammered an incoherent sentence. "Do you, uh, do you want to, um."

Pete looked at me through half-closed lids. "I wanna watch you jerk, Eli, that would be so hot."

My hand was sticky with Pete's cum but I reached down to my pants anyway, pulling at the waistband of my loose shorts. My dick twitched at the thought of being touched but I was having trouble breathing, I was really nervous.

I looked at Pete for reassurance, but he had his eyes closed and was lowering his head back onto the bed and jiggling his body around like he was getting ready to sleep. I guess he wasn't actually waiting to watch me touch myself.

It was half passed ten and dark outside, but Pete hadn't invited me to stay the night and I definitely wasn't going to shake him awake to ask if it was okay. So I put my shoes and tee shirt back on and headed for home.

I lived in the suburbs just beyond the downtown area. It was easy to catch a bus in to town and quite close to Pete's house, but to get back to my house from Pete's I'd have to swap buses downtown because the only direct route looped around across the bridge to the other main shopping hub. I didn't like waiting around ages for buses, so I generally caught one into downtown then walked the rest of the way from there.

I usually tried to keep an eye on my surroundings when I walked home in the dark, but tonight my head was swirling with thoughts of jerking Pete off -- there was the warm glow at causing him such great pleasure, but I was also anxious about whether I should have stayed or if there were things people normally did after handjobs that I was meant to have done but just hadn't known about.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard someone calling my name. I was just passing an old downtown shopping complex and the voice came from the shadows under it. When I looked over I could see the glare of a cigarette but I couldn't see who was there so I just stood there in the street.

He was yelling out something about not wanting me to walk home alone and I replied without really being aware of my words. I decided to keep walking -- and walk fast -- when the guy came out of the shadows.

In the streetlamp light I recognised Damien, the sexy skinhead who'd hit on me at the show last night. He was in a singlet and tight bleached jeans again, displaying his hot tattoos. I felt my stomach flip and my cock starting to swell at the sight of him -- I couldn't help it, tattoos just do that to me. I looked down, hoping to hide my delight at seeing him.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and slightly gravelly from the smoke. "You going home from a gig? It's a bit early to be heading home, isn't it?"

It was past eleven so it wasn't that early, but I didn't know what to say and I didn't want to mention Pete so I just said nothing. What if Damien wanted to hurt me? If I just walked away now, would he stop me? 

But I didn't want to walk away, not really. Damien was only a couple metres from me and in the silence of the night I could hear his steady breathing and the way he dragged deep on his cigarette. When I looked up he was staring intently from beneath those dark brows, his mouth quirked.

He took another slow drag of his cigarette. His eyes didn't leave mine and his expression was so intense I had to look away, down at the glow of his cigarette. He moved his hand away from his face and I found my eyes tracing along the bright curves and points of his tattoos. I itched to get close and have a good look at them. 

I love tattoos and I loved how the look on Damien. When his bicep flexed it made the bright shapes move in fascinating ways. He rested his arm against his rounded belly and the light fell across his tattoos. It was all I could do to not stare like a zombie.

If felt my dick getting harder in my shorts and I had to swallow to get saliva back in my mouth. I moved my hand to hook through a pant loop in the hope I could hide my erection, but it only served to remind myself that just that evening I'd had my friend's dick in my hand. Now here I was gawking at a skinhead like a slut.

"Let me walk you home."

I shook my head to clear it and muttered, "I gotta go."

He didn't make any move to stop me. I tried to forget the way he looked in just his singlet and jeans in the street lamp but the memory stayed with me, stronger and more arousing than the memory of jerking my friend.

Pete invited me to his house two or three times a week -- it was crazy to think that just three weeks ago I was having my first kiss, and now I had a steady boyfriend and was jerking him off nearly every day. 

I'd see him at hardcore shows on the weekend but he never acknowledged me as his boyfriend -- if anything, he seemed to be avoiding me. I'd finally built up the courage to get a haircut, lose all that shaggy hair and try to look more manly. I didn't know if Pete had even noticed it. That made me sad but I didn't have much time to dwell on it -- I was busy with work and preparation for my final university exams.

I work at a popular tattoo parlour called Defiant. We get customers from both sides of the bridge because we're known to be clean, quick and skilful. I was getting a bit of a rep and now I was requested more than some of the artist's who'd been there years. The work helped keep my mind off Pete.

And keep my mind off Damien. He'd come into my work on Saturday, just walked right on up to me where I was killing time at the counter and asked me to give him a lip piercing. Even thinking about the experience made my dick harden and made me want to swoon, I had to push the thoughts aside to keep from having a heart attack. Pete and I were sharing something, and that mattered so much more than any hot skinhead.

But Damien was obviously out and his friends didn't care. Sometimes, alone at night, I'd wonder if Pete would ever be willing to come out and announce me as his boyfriend. But I tried not to think like that.

Finally on Friday afternoon I got a text from Pete. There was a show that night and he wanted us to meet at his place and go together..

I was nervous on the bus to Pete's. My nerves only increased when I peeked in the door of his detached rooms and saw him alone.

"Hey," I said.

Pete was lying on his mattress in a tee shirt and boxer shorts, tapping away at his laptop keyboard. He looked up when I spoke and grinned widely.

"Eli! Come here!"

I walked over and knelt on the mattress beside him and he rolled onto his side and opened his arms to me for a hug. I got down on my side awkwardly, trying to co-ordinate myself around his beefy arms. I didn't know if he wanted his arm to be around my neck or my shoulder and I shifted around uncertainly until Pete grunted his annoyed amusement and I just sopped moving.

He grinned and grabbed me around the neck, pulled me in for a kiss. It was open-mouthed and wet and Pete kept his hand on my neck as if afraid I'd pull away. When he finally pulled back so we could breath, he muttered, "So glad you're here Eli!"

I grinned at him, feeling a rush of happiness. Pete grinned back and grabbed my hand, pushed it down to his crotch. I gasped as I felt his hard dick, jutting out of his fly.

"Give it a rub," He groaned. I looked down at my hand, curled around his purple torpedo penis. When I glanced up at his laptop I saw the blank desktop. It made me wonder if he'd been watching porn and hurriedly exited the window when I arrived.

I started moving my hand up and down, twisting slightly as I moved from the base to the head. I watched Pete's generous foreskin moving around, bunching up and growing tighter but never quite taut.

Pete dropped his head back onto the mattress and let his mouth fall open as he moaned. With the hand on my neck he nudged me downward and I let him. I was fascinated by the way his foreskin moved -- partly disgusted, partly curious. It didn't look like the dicks in porn, or like my own skinny pale shaft. Pete's dick seemed like it never got fully hard, just stayed squishy and fat.

I scooted down on the mattress, resting my weight on my knees so my hands were free. I stroked Pete's dick with one hand and with the other I played with the dark wiry bush of hair that was sticking out of his fly. He was moaning and making small thrusts with his hips. It seemed like he was really into it.

Pete's boxers were loose cotton, the hems sat away from his thighs so I could see up inside them. When he thrust his hips they gaped open.

I rested my head on his thigh and have a clear view up his boxer leg at his balls hanging in their wrinkly sack, shifting around as I played with his dick. I could also see his crack, dark and tempting. I loved playing with my hole when I masturbated and I couldn't wait to give Pete the same kind of pleasure.

I grabbed his dick again and Pete grunted his delight, thrust his hips harder than ever. That made his butt lift up so I had a clear view in at his dark hole.

I sucked my finger into my mouth and, still stroking Pete with the other hand, I let my hand slide along between his thigh and his boxers until I could feel the warm flesh of his crack. It wasn't hard to find his hole, and when I started teasing the sensitive skin there Pete let out a loud groan.

I grinned in pride. But the next moment Pete was sitting up and grabbing my hand, pushing it away from his boxers.

"What?" I said in surprise.

Pete wrinkled his nose at me. "Don't do that Eli. Just rub or suck me. None of the gay stuff."

He flopped back down on his back. I realised my hand was still on his dick, but now I wasn't remotely aroused. I felt cold and shocked and hurt. Gay stuff? What did he think I was, what he was? He wanted me to suck his dick but didn't want any 'gay stuff'?

I sat there frozen until Pete bucked his hips and grunted, "Come on baby, come on."

Like a robot I resumed stroking -- what else could I do? But my heart wasn't in it. I hardly even felt a stirring when Pete called out my name as he came.

As soon as he'd had his orgasm Pete stuffed his dick back into his boxers, batting my hand away. He got up and pulled off his tee shirt, wrinkled his nose as he looked at the splashes of semen wet and sticky on it, and threw it into a pile in the corner. I just sat there as he got dressed and trimmed his beard, then we left for the show together.

There was a small crowd already gathered outside the venue and happy voices and laughter could be heard rising from the hubbub. Normally I felt really amped and excited when I stood outside a hardcore show -- I knew that there was a good night of movement and music ahead of me -- but tonight I was just feeling a bit flat. Pete had hardly talked to me the whole way there and I didn't know what to say to him.

As we waited at the traffic lights before crossing the last road before the venue, Pete turned to me and said, "Listen Eli, it's not a great look if we turn up together. People might judge and I'm not ready for that yet. Do you want to walk around the block and then come over like you've just arrived?"

I gaped at him. He'd said we could go to the show together. Had he just wanted a quick handjob and nothing more? He was already turning away and I didn't know what to say except okay.

But as I watched him crossing the street and waving to his friends, I felt more isolated than I ever had at a hardcore show. These people, and especially Pete, were supposed to be my friends. So why the hell would they care if I was gay?

I thought about crossing the road and joining the crowd but I just didn't have the energy. I turned away and walked home.

It still wasn't late -- it was an All Ages shows and they always started in the early evening so young drivers could get home before their license curfew. The street lamps came on as I trudged through the streets, the bustle of traffic and light of shop windows slowly dying off as I approached the less popular downtown area.




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 01



My spine started tingling as I approached the shopping complex where I'd seen Damien last week. There was a part of me that just really wanted to see his hot body, to have him hit on me and make me feel sexy again.

There was definitely light from under the overhang of the shopping complex, and I could see figures standing in a group there. There was some music playing, a recording of a hardcore band I didn't recognise with a mean-sounding gravelly vocalist. I found myself slowing, squinting through the gloom to see if Damien was among the group.

"Hey, Elijah!" It was Damien's voice. My heart was beating fast before he even called out his second sentence. "Come over here, have a drink!"

A door was open and light spilled out from it, showing the four men gathered under the building's overhang. Damien was there, grinning and holding a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He looked different than the last time I saw him. I didn't know the other guys. They definitely weren't from this side of the bridge.

"These are my mates," Damien said, walking forward and draping his tattooed cigarette arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his body and gesturing toward his friends with his other hand. "Scaz, Bazz and Toss." 

With his arm around me his cigarette was trailing smoke in my face -- usually I'd make a deal out of it, but Damien's body was so firm and warm and welcoming I found I'd lost any spark of defiance.

Damien's friends nodded after their introduction, but I had no clue which was which and just smiled nervously. 

"I'm Eli."

"We know," Said one of the guys, he had a bright red mohawk and messy black chin scruff. "You work at Defiant, right? You're the reason Dazza's been hanging round there so much."

He slapped Damien jokingly on the elbow and I realised that must be his nickname. I frowned at his words but Damien was grinning. What? He met my eyes and I realised how close he was, how easy it would be for him to tilt his head down and slide those sexy lips of his over mine.

"You want a drink?" Damien asked. His voice was pitched low and his breath tickled my skin. I was half way through shaking my head when Damien let go of me so he could fish around in a large portable fridge on the ground in the centre of the group. He pulled out a six pack of Coke cans, still attached in their plastic rings.

I don't normally drink Coke -- I don't like the caffeine -- but it seemed like Damien had bought the cans especially for me, so I took the one he offered. When he stood up again I realised what was different about him -- he was wearing glasses. They were thin black rectangular frames which balanced out his heavy eyebrows. Beneath them his eyes were blue, but not as dark and intense as I was used to -- I guess he wore tinted contact lenses to make them seem more impressive.

He also had the remains of a black eye, a deep purple circle around his left eye and a small cut on the cheek. His face was friendly and open, but his bruises made him look fierce. There were tiny freckles across his nose and cheeks.

I realised I was just staring at him, and he was grinning down at me with a raised eyebrow. I blushed and looked away.

"So this is a cool place to hang out," I tried to joke to cover my embarrassment.

Damien indicated the open door, the electric light making a set of stairs visible within. "I live here."

I nodded. My mouth was dry and I took a sip of my Coke, it tasted like the metal of the can it came in.

"So you're straight-edge," Said the red mohawk guy. He nodded at the black crosses drawn with thick pen on the backs of my hands. "Why don't you make those permanent?"

I wasn't sure if he was making fun of me -- nursing a beer and telling me to get drug-free tattoos -- but before I could think of a reply, Damien put his arm around me again and announced, "I reckon he should, those straightedge tattoos are hawt."

He drawled the last word but he winked at me too so I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or his friends.

"You got any tattoos at all?" He asked me.

I shook my head, then added, "They don't look any good on my skin."

"I bet lots of things look good on your skin." 

I nearly choked on the mouthful I was drinking. My heart was racing. I took another sip and barely managed to swallow. 

Damien's friends laughed appreciatively. What the hell? They all seemed to be grinning like nothing was wrong, like it was totally normal for big bruised skinheads to hit on skinny nerd guys. I couldn't imagine this kind of obvious flirting being accepted in my scene.

"You okay?" Damien asked in a rumble of amusement. "You seem real nervous."

He had his arm around me and was holding me close enough that I could feel his body heat through his thin cotton singlet, feel his chest with every rise and fall of his breath and his fingers holding protectively to the bare skin of my upper arm. No kidding I was nervous.

Damien and his friends were quiet for a few moments, the stilted conversation stopped. I wondered if I'd interrupted their normal conversation or if they liked to drink their beers and just listen to music in silence. 

Damien started rubbing his thumb in circles on my arm, gently squeezing with his fingers like he was giving me a massage. He kept shifting his hand further up my arm until his fingers were under the hem of my sleeve and he was squeezing my bare shoulder. I knew he was staring at me but I couldn't bring myself to lift my eyes from the ground. Every cell in my body was focused on that hand stroking me.

"Maybe we should be heading off," Mohawk Guy said and raised his eyebrows meaningfully at his friend. 

Damien didn't make any move to stop them. Instead he bent his head down so his lips tickled against the top of my ear and whispered, "They want to give us some time alone together, Elijah."

I gasped but there was Coke in my mouth and I started choking on it. Some of the sticky liquid spurted out of my lips and across my chin and shirt. I started to wipe at it with the back of my hand. Damien let go of me and put his beer down, reached for my face with an expression of mixed concern and amusement. I pushed his hands away roughly.

He put a hand on either shoulder to calm me and when I tried to shrug them off he only gripped on harder. I looked around at his friends -- Mohawk Guy had a wary eye on us. I didn't want to cause a scene so I whispered just loud enough for Damien to hear, "Get your hands off me."

Damien held firm to my shoulders and ducked his head so he was looking at me from under his dark eyebrows, twisting me so I was forced to meet his eyes. "We both know you want me." He said quietly. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

He was stronger than me; there was no way I could push him off. And besides, a part of me wanted to be here -- to have Damien holding me, staring at me intently and acting like I was the hottest boy in the world.

"You know I have a boyfriend..." My voice came out traitorously quiet. Damien was so close, his sweet beer breath blowing on my face.

His voice was so low I'm sure his friends couldn't hear him at all over the yells of the radio. His voice was low and deep and seemed to vibrate deep inside me.

"I can make you forget him. I can make you scream my name until I have to cum in your throat to stop you. Can your boyfriend do that? Because if he can, I don't know why you're here right now."

"Holy crap," I gasped.

"I get what I want. And I want you," Damien growled. His face was so close to mine. I focused in on his lips. I realised I could just tilt my head up, just the tiniest lift of my chin and I'd feel those lips brush against mine...

"I gotta go," I muttered. Damien kept holding onto me. I looked into his face, only inches from mine. His expression was blank.

He sighed and let me go.

I was hurt by Pete's rejection and even more so when a week passed without me hearing from him. Finally on Saturday after work I found a text from asking if I wanted to come over tonight. He was my best mate, so of course I agreed.

I went into his detached rooms to find him lying on his back on the bed, playing a brick of a GameBoy. He was wearing the same tee as last night and there was some breakfast remains on it, but his face lit up as he saw me and that made him beautiful to me.

"Eli! Come here, baby," The term of endearment sounded natural.

I sprawled out on the bed -- really, the mattress on the floor -- beside him, stretching out so my head was beside his and my feet were alongside his calves.

"You're really tall."

"Yup. I'm a big guy. I eat little Elis for breakfast," Pete rolled onto his side to face me and made a snapping motion with his teeth. I laughed and jerked my head away. Pete grabbed the sides of my head in his hands and suddenly I wasn't laughing.

I stared up into his eyes and noticed for the first time that he had long dark lashes. I watched as those eyes focused on mine, as his face slowly moved closer to mine and my lower lip trembled in anticipation of the kiss.

Suddenly Pete's eyes flashed and he bit my nose.

"Ow, what the fuck!"

"Yummy Eli, I'm gonna eat you!" He pushed down on my shoulders and rolled on top of me so for a few moments all his weight was on me and I was aware of just how big and heavy he was.

Pete raised himself up on his elbows, shifting his weight so he was straddling me with his legs on either side of my hips.

"Hey," He whispered. And now he wasn't playful anymore. He kissed me, leaning his face in close to mine and opening his lips, pushing down against me so I could feel the weight of his body behind that kiss. 

I moaned against Pete's mouth and raised my hands from where they were lying dumbly on the ground, wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in his curly hair.

Pete hummed low in his throat, and broke the kiss to whisper against my lips, "Sexy Eli."

My insides glowed. I could feel his erection growing and pushing against my thigh. 

"Touch me, Eli."

I nodded my head quickly, feeling my mouth go dry in excitement and nervousness.

Pete rolled off me and onto his back. With one hand he pushed down the waistband of his grey sweatpants so the elastic band snapped up under his balls.

I gasped at the suddenness of it. A moment ago I was feeling the thrill of Pete's kiss and now I could see his semi-hard dick and his furry balls, lolling there begging for my attention.

There was no force that would stop my hand from reaching out and closing around his dick. As soon as I touched it, it throbbed and started swelling. Pete moaned.

I stroked his dick like I had the first time, long strokes which pulled the foreskin down to reveal a circle of his purple dick head then hide it again. I wasn't sure if his foreskin was gross or I if liked it.

"You should lick it," He groaned.

I hesitated. I didn't have any idea how to give head, and I was only just coming to terms with how it felt to have another guy's dick in my hands. I just kept stroking it, and nuzzled my mouth against Pete's for a kiss.

He tangled his hand in my wavy hair and gently pulled my face away from his. When he whispered his breath was hot against my lips. "Come on Eli, I know you want to lick it."

He started pressing on my head so it was forced down his body, I didn't know what to say and I did kind of want it, so I let him direct my face back down to his crotch.

His dick was sticking out of his thick curly hair, purple and pulsing with only a circle of dark wet head visible amidst the foreskin. I gripped it in my hand and begun stroking it again.

I met Pete's gaze and held it as I lowered my whole mouth to encompass his cock head. His face was contorted in pleasure and he kept making little nodding movements so I knew it was okay. His head didn't taste unpleasant, just rubbery and soft and a little sour. I'd watched lots of porn, of course, and I knew not to bite and to get as much dick in my mouth as possible and bob up and down. So I tucked my teeth under my lips and lowered my head down, letting Pete's wide dick slide into my mouth until I felt like I was going to gag.

When I pulled my mouth back up I let my tongue circle around his piss slit and the smooth ridge I could feel where his head met his shaft, smoothed down by the soft rubbery skin covering it.

Pete was making little humming noises and I started to move my head back down his dick. But he grabbed a handful of my hair and used it to hold my head still and whispered, "Use your lips to pull the foreskin up and down."

I nodded my head as quickly and as much as I could with his dick still in my mouth, then tried to do what he'd told me -- I kept sliding up and down his shaft, but this time kept his foreskin in my lips so I could slide it up and down with the motion of my head.

After a few minutes Pete stopped me again, and told me the same instructions. I let my mouth slide off his dick and said, "Aren't I doing it?"

"Just -- just try and pull the foreskin up and down when you move," He demonstrated with his hand. I tried again, focusing on grabbing the soft rubbery skin with my lips and pulling it down so I could feel the hard column of his dick beneath, but it wasn't long before Pete was stopping me with his hand in my hair and telling me I was doing it wrong.

I was starting to get frustrated and anxious. I kept trying to please him and I didn't know how to do what he wanted, I felt like I was doing what he asked. I wasn't enjoying it anymore. But I kept going because I wanted to get it right.

After a while my jaw started hurting and Pete wasn't making noises anymore. I wasn't sure what to do. I looked up at him but I didn't meet his eyes, he was looking up at the ceiling and his expression was hidden by his beard.

I finally just pulled my mouth off his dick and lay with my head on his belly and stroked him hard and fast like I had last time, and soon enough he was groaning and grunting and trying to push my head back down to his crotch. My mouth hurt and I was sad so I didn't want to try giving head again.

When he came, his semen shot straight in the air and landed across my hand and all through his pubic hair. When I wriggled up beside him Pete didn't kiss me, he was already lulling off to sleep. 

I was too confused to stick around so I just got off the mattress and left. 

There wasn't a direct bus to my house from Pete's but I didn't feel up to a very long walk. It started raining when I was waiting at the bus stop pole and there was no shelter. 

The connection bus never came. I waited an hour in the rain for a bus that should run every fifteen minutes, then I gave up and walked home. 

As I walked the dark streets home my head was swirling. I'd known I was gay since I started high school, but what if I was wrong? I'd fantasized about a dick in my mouth for years and now I actually had the chance to experience it I was unhappy. Did this mean I wasn't really into guys?

I walked through the same run-down downtown area I passed through on the way home from hardcore shows, and the thought just made me more miserable as I remembered Pete and all the good times I'd had at shows because of him.

It was getting dark but at least the rain had finally stopped. I passed the building where Damien lived and didn't even glance sideways -- it was barely dark, and I'd only seen him there a couple of times late at night.

I was already passed another block of shops when I heard heavy running feet behind me. I ignored it. Then suddenly there was a warm arm wrapped around my belly and I was being pulled back into a strong chest. I saw the intricate colourful tattoos on his arm.

"You're fucking wet, come inside and dry up," Damien growled against my ear.

"I'm fine, I'm nearly home." Damien had the strangest effect on me, like golden syrup in my mouth making my words thick and slurred. I could hear myself mumbling and wondered if he even understood a word of what I said.

"Come on Elijah, you're freezing."

"Eli," I mumbled. Damien had his body pressed fully against my back and his warmth was leeching through into my cold flesh. 

"I like Elijah," His voice was low and husky. He rested his right hand on by chest and started circling his fingers lazily around my collarbone, hooking the collar of my shirt down so he could touch my bare skin. I could feel trails of warmth across my skin where he touched me.

I realised I was shivering. I also realised Damien had my arms pinned at my sides and his hands on me -- he could do anything he wanted.

Just a few moments ago I was miserable and thinking of Pete, but now my whole life was Damien and the feel of his hands on me. It was like being brought to life by electric shock.

I looked down at his tattooed left arm clamped tight around my waist and had déjà vu of the first time I'd seen him, when he put his hand down my pants at a show. Only this time my tee shirt was so wet it was sticking to my skin and my nipples were clearly poking out against the thin cotton. 

Damien gently brushed his lips against my neck then nipped at my skin with his teeth. A moan escaped my lips before I was aware of it.

I watched as Damien's tattooed arm dropped from my waist to my crotch, his fingers firmly stroking across my dick through my wet jeans. A bolt of electricity shot through me at the contact, the shock and joy of his hand on me made my stomach clench up so my body leaned forward and my butt rubbed into him.

The fingers at my collar spread out until Damien's whole hand was touching the bare skin of my chest. His hand skidded against my wet skin. Where his skin came in contact with mine it felt like delicious fire. I moaned again and leaned my head back against his shoulder, getting an intoxicating whiff of his engine grease and sweat smell. I must be soaking him with my wet clothes and the rain was pouring onto us but he didn't seem to mind.

Damien flicked his tongue out to touch against the flesh of my earlobe, stretched taught around my tunnel. I whimpered. I was feeling overwhelmed by the scent and warmth and nearness of him, it was a heady high I'd never before experienced in my drug-free life. I was sure I could feel his hard dick pressing up against my butt and the thought made me moan.

Damien whispered and his lips brushed lightly against my neck with each word, "I love those noises you make."

The words shocked me into realisation of my situation -- I was standing in the middle of the street in half darkness, this sexy guy touching me. I was just standing there letting him. I could still taste Pete's spunk in my throat and I was still letting this skinhead touch me.

Guilt swept over me. "I can't do this," I muttered, struggling to free myself from Damien's arms. He resisted for a moment then released my arms and pulled his hands off me.

I couldn't look at him so I just ducked my head down and hurried off. I didn't hear his heavy boots on the concrete and I wondered if he was just standing there, watching me go.

My flatmates were having a party when I got home. I was exhausted and I just wanted quiet. There was pounding music in the living room and I had to push past strangers to get to my room. A couple were leaning up against it, making out.

"Excuse me," I said loudly, but they just ignored me. I stood indignantly dripping water on my own carpet, raising my voice louder and louder. Finally they noticed me, and shuffled over so I could get at my door.

As I closed the door and turned the key behind me, I felt relieved for the hundredth time that I had thought to install locks.

Closing the door did nothing to shut off the noise. My windows were rattling from the bass and the noise of the crowd was often punctuated by loud piercing laughter.

I sighed and pulled my heavy noise-cancellation headphones out of their plug to my computer and pulled them onto my head.




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 01



I lay down on my bed and breathed out, closing my eyes and trying to forget the noise and the fact that I still had to face this house tomorrow. I was still really aroused and I considered watching some porn but there was no point -- my thoughts were constantly drawn to Damien and that was enough to get my dick pulsing.

He was hot, there was no point in denying it. I told myself that thinking about him now wasn't like cheating on Pete, that maybe it was even a good thing -- I could masturbate and get it out of my system, move on with my life without being aroused by some skinhead.

I screwed my eyes up tight and imagined the pumping of the bass line was cars in the distance as I stood in the street with Damien, his hard dick pressed against my butt and his breath whispering in my ear. His arms were around me and his hand toyed with my collar bone. This time I didn't run away.

My jeans were wet and clinging to my body. I unzipped and pulled my boxers down my clammy thighs, so my dick could leap free and dribble pre-cum along my leg.

I started circling my collar bone, thinking of the low growl in Damien's throat as he possessively touched me. I pushed my hand down the collar of my loose shirt until my fingertips brushed against my nipples, and the sensitivity of the cold swollen peaks made my body jerk in delight.

I gripped my dick and stroked slowly, imagining it was Damien touching me, that his hands were gliding across my chest and his hand was wrapped around my throbbing dick. His own dick was pressing against my butt and he was jerking me hard, saying my name over and over and whispering that I was so sexy, that I could have him any time.

I imagined Damien licking my ear lobe then tilting my head to his for a possessive kiss, his lips hot and hard and demanding as he tweaked my nipples and jerked my dick so hard I came in heavy globs across the street, splattering the pavement and out shoes and his hand.

As I imagined it, my dick jerked and splashed semen across my belly -- it was surprisingly hot on my rain-cooled abdomen, and I could feel the warm stickiness of it seeping into my wet tee.

I knew I should go and shower but I didn't want to leave the sanctuary of my room and my warm hazy Damien thoughts. I was panting as I pulled my jeans and boxers the rest of the way off and struggled out of my clinging wet tee shirt. The orgasm had been a good one -- I'd stored my arousal up when I was around Pete, and it was damn hard to keep resisting sexy Damien.

I dropped my clothes to the floor with a wet sucking sound then pulled my blankets up over me and my bulky headphones so I could fall asleep.

My university exams finished and I went straight to working full-time at the tattoo parlour. Defiant opened at 10 and closed at 4 most days and I loved the work so it didn't feel that much like a 'real' job. 

It was two weeks since I'd given Pete my first blowjob and I'd seen him a couple times since. He acted just like a mate at shows but he'd invite me around to his house to watch band practice or play Tekken and the visits always ended in me getting him off. He never offered to reciprocate and I didn't know how to ask.

I still couldn't get the hang of how Pete wanted me to touch him. I kept trying to get better but I just couldn't seem to do what he was asking, it seemed like I could never give him a blowjob the way he wanted. But he liked to let me to get him off with his hand, then push my head down onto his dick so I could swallow his load. It still tasted bitter and acidic but I was getting used to it.

Then the Sunday after I finished exams, he pushed me too far.

We were in his room as usual, having eaten two whole bags of Salt and Vinegar chips and played Tekken Tag until our salty fingers hurt. Pete put down his controller with a loud sigh and flopped down on his back, arms sprawled out over the mattress.

I laid down beside him and stroked his coarse unkempt beard before resting my fingers on his chin and moving my face in for a kiss.

"Hey Eli," He murmured against my lips. "Wanna touch me?"

I nodded and reached into his basketball shorts for his semi-hard dick.

I was stroking and kissing him when he made a deep grunting noise and rolled over on his side. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked right in my eyes. 

"I love you, Eli."

Just like that. He said it.

I opened my mouth but closed it when I realised I had nothing to say. My mind was completely blank. This image of sexy Damien, lying on the chair in my tattoo parlour, came into my mind and I lost my train of thought. 

Pete must have taken my silence as some kind of affirmation because he smiled and leaned in to kiss my unresisting lips. The kiss was gentle and first, but grew more assertive until he was holding me by the back of the head and pushing his lips hard against mine, his tongue forcing its way inside my mouth.

He rolled again until he was on top of me, his arms on either side of my head and most of his weight pressing down on top of me. I could feel his hard dick pressing into my thigh, slipping against the fabric of my loose shorts.

"Let me fuck you," He whispered into my ear.

I froze. "Um, Pete," I began.

He returned his mouth to mine and sucked at my tongue, stealing the breath from my lungs so I couldn't talk anymore. He ground his hips against me, rubbing his dick up along my thigh. He moaned low in his throat and the sound made his lips vibrate slightly against mine.

He shifted his weight so he was propped up on one arm with his big stomach pressed into me and his right arm free to roam my body. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and started tugging like he could pull them right off my hips.

I shook my head until I got my face free of his and said, "No, Pete, I don't think I'm comfortable with this."

"Come on Eli. I love you, I wouldn't hurt you."

His voice was coaxing and I really wanted him to like me, I wanted to be able to please him at last. I relaxed and let his fingers scrabble at my fly. But he didn't even go for my dick, he popped the button on my fly and started dragging my pants down with one hand and groping at my butt with the other -- he didn't even want to touch me, he just wanted sex. I felt a jolt of panic and wrongness.

"No, Pete," I said more firmly and pushed against his belly. He was too big for me; my hands did nothing to shift his bulk.

Pete grabbed my head to kiss me again but I shook my head free. He was scaring me now, I'd said no and he was still pressuring me. He hadn't even touched me, and now he wanted to fuck me -- it was too sudden, too unexpected.

"Let me go Pete, I'm not ready," I said, half-jokingly. When he didn't respond and just kept rubbing against me, I got scared. "Seriously Pete, let me go."

He grabbed my head to try and kiss me again and I freaked right out. I pushed at him with my hands and wiggled my body around, trying to get away from him. He was so much heavier than me and his body had me trapped.

"Eli, Jesus, what are you doing?"

"Let me go!"

Pete grunted and, finally, rolled over so I was free. I took a heaving breath and zipped myself back up with trembling hands. I didn't look back at Pete as I rushed from his room.

I didn't hear from Pete for over a week and I started worrying I'd ruined our friendship, that I'd lost my only friend. I thought about calling him but I didn't know what to say -- wasn't sure if I should apologise or ask for an apology.

Without university homework I just went home after work each day and sat alone in my room, ignoring the sounds of my flatmates getting drunk. I loved tattooing but it was scary to think that this was all my life would be from now on. It would be a lonely life if I didn't fix things with Pete. I'd have to call him or see him at a show, tell him I appreciated what he'd told me and that I just wanted to take things slow.

Pete's band were playing at the local all-ages venue Friday night so I went along, determined to make things up with him. 

There're always groups of people hanging around outside the hardcore shows, inside is just for listening to music but outside is where people actually socialise.

There were yells from a couple of people I know through the tattoo parlour, but I just nodded and kept looking.

Of course when I found him he was surrounded by people, lots of straight-edgers making in-jokes. I pushed my way into the group until I got a clear view at him, and when he met my eyes I grinned nervously.

"Eli, hey! How are you?"

I grinned like a fool but couldn't think of anything to say. He was still my friend! 

He had his arm around a short girl with dyed black hair who I had never seen before. Pete tilted his head toward her and said, "This is Kelly, my girlfriend."

Girlfriend?

I stood frozen to the spot, unable to form words. Kelly was grinning and reaching out her hand, to shake or fistpump. I pretended I didn't notice. She had a gap between her two front teeth and was wearing a pale pink headband.

I was vaguely aware of another conversation going on in the group, but for me time had stopped and the whole world was focused down on this one moment and the loud pounding of my heart as I stared at my boyfriend with his arm around a girl.

"You work at Defiant, right?" She asked with a friendly smile. I wish she wasn't friendly. It would make it easier to hate her. "I've been thinking about getting a tattoo."

I nodded, and looked at Pete. He wasn't meeting my eyes, was instead looking at some of his friends with an expression of unconvincing interest which made me suspect he was actually listening in on us.

"Pete doesn't have any," Kelly continued on as if she would happily hold an entire conversation on her own. "I'm surprised, so many of the boys here have tattoos! I haven't been to a punk gig before, I'm excited. Pete's been trying to convince me to come see him play for months."

I nodded again. It was hard to pull my head back up from the nod because it felt like my brain was a lump of concrete weighing my neck down.

I began to talk but my voice was so croaky it scared me so I stopped and swallowed and started again. "You've been dating Pete for long?"

"Not that long, only six months. Guess that is long after all! We met through church, he plays bass for our youth service band. I was pretty nervous about coming tonight, I thought everyone would be scarier!"

I barely managed a grin before turning and walking away from her. The crowd of people had grown tighter so I had to drop my shoulder to push my way out but I didn't care -- I had to get out of there.

Pete didn't bother to follow, just stayed there with his arm around his girlfriend.

My mind was swirling and as I walked away from the club, out into the cool dark streets. I felt my stomach heaving and I hunched over a bin to puke up my lettuce sandwich dinner.

Pete called on Tuesday. I wanted to ignore my phone out of spite but then I thought he might be calling to apologize. He was my only friend and if he could explain what was going on then I was willing to hear.

His voice was warm and friendly as he greeted me on the phone and asked why I'd left before seeing him play on Friday. I stumbled over my tongue. How could he not know?

I finally managed to mumble out, "Your girlfriend?"

Pete sighed. "I knew you'd make a big deal out of it."

"It is a big deal," I said. I hoped Pete couldn't hear how much my voice was shaking. "She said you'd been together months. And you said you were my boyfriend, you asked me not to be with anyone else..."

"Like there's anyone else who would want a whiny little fag like you," He interrupted me. I couldn't believe he'd just said those words and I sat in silence, trying to wrap my head around it. Then he sighed and added in a softer voice, "I'm sorry Eli, I didn't mean that. Kelly's my girlfriend, but she's Christian so, you know..."

"So she doesn't put out like I do?" I choked. I was starting to cry and I hated myself for it, for letting Pete hear me being just as 'whiny and faggy' as he thought I was.

"Come on Eli," Pete's voice was reassuring but he also sounded a little frustrated like he thought I was being unreasonable. "You know you can't be 'out' in the scene, the guys would beat you to death. What do you expect me to do, prance around holding your hand?" Pete's words made me cry even harder. I tilted my phone so the mouthpiece was up by my forehead and Pete wouldn't hear me crying.

"Come on Eli," He said again. "Come over and we can talk about this?"

I didn't bother replying, but ended the call and lay face down on my bed to cry. 

It was like I was in mourning. It was a week before I left the house for anything except work.

It wasn't so much that I missed Pete like a boyfriend -- I should have realised he never cared, that he only wanted me for sex. But I missed having a friend.

No-one at the shows really liked me and I hadn't made any effort to connect with my co-workers. I didn't have anywhere to go after work but it was no fun at home either, my flat was a mess and every time I left my room I had to deal with my loud and useless flatmates.

It was good that I could focus on my work, get absorbed in tattoos -- it was the only time I could be free of thoughts of Pete and his girlfriend, though the ache of the betrayal was like a knife permanently lodged in my chest.

By the Friday after meeting Pete's girlfriend, I was so miserable and lonely I allowed myself to think of Damien.

When I'd been with Pete I'd had to push away thoughts of the sexy skinhead, but now I was alone I couldn't deny myself the attraction and the fact he seemed interested in me too. I didn't have to feel guilty anymore.

Damien wouldn't want to be my friend, but maybe that was for the best -- maybe what I needed right now wasn't a boyfriend, but someone to make me feel sexy and make me cum. Maybe, if I made it clear with myself that it was just sex, I wouldn't get hurt again.

So I left my house alone on that Friday night and headed away from the usual drunken Friday flat party and off toward the old shopping complex downtown where I knew he lived.

There were lights on in the second story of the building but I didn't know which rooms would be his. I tried knocking on his door but got no response -- would he even hear me up that flight of stairs, assuming he was home?

I'd never thought to ask for his number, and I didn't want to stand around in the street shouting his name. 

The loneliness was more intense now it came on a wave of disappointment. I couldn't go home, I couldn't face lying alone with my thoughts and the pounding of the flat's stereo. I left Damien's doorstep and just wandered into the dark streets, aimless.

I was just wandering when I saw him, leaning up against a wall and smoking. I couldn't believe it. Damien?

I ran toward him. He was wearing a leather jacket and his shaven head shone in the light of the street lamp he was under.

He looked up as I got close and I froze in my tracks. It wasn't Damien. It was some stranger with a face like a pug dog.

He was staring right at me and holding his cigarette in his hand. I stammered an apology and started back tracking, heading toward the other side of the street. But the skinhead disengaged from the wall and started following me. I didn't like the look on his face.

"Little boy," He called out. His voice was harsh and sneering. "Little boy, who you looking for?"

I started walking faster, holding my head high and trying not to panic. I heard his steps gaining on me and I got scared.

"Were you looking for a real man, a man to fuck you, little faggot?" He called out loudly and I was shocked by how close he sounded. I dropped all pretence and just started running.

I could hear him laughing and I tried to block out the sound as I raced down the street, feet hurting in my worn canvas shoes which really weren't meant to deal with sharp impacts. I could hear his heavy booted footsteps behind me and I tried to run as fast as I could, toward the shopping complex and its promise of better light and inhabited houses. 

I was in sight of the bright street-lamp lit shopping complex when his hand grabbed my arm. I tried to keep running but he was too strong for me, he pulled roughly on my arm and I fell backward and straight onto my butt.

The skinhead jeered in laughter and squatted down, dropping a knee so it landed in my stomach. When I tried to push myself back to my feet the skinhead smacked me hard in the face. The blow slammed my head onto the concrete. Bright red lights popped behind my closed eyelids.

He hit me again, this time with a heavy slap to my ear. The noise was loud and the ringing continued longer than the pain. I felt disoriented like I was going to be sick. The skinhead shifted his weight so his knees were on my elbows and I couldn't move my arms or lift myself up. I tried to kick him in the back but I couldn't lift my legs high enough, and when I kept struggling he hit me again.

I stopped struggling and focused on breathing in and out. I was trying to think of a way to get out of this. I tried to not cry.

I heard a zipper undoing and turned my head and so I wouldn't see what happened next. But the skinhead grabbed my head and forced my face back up toward him.

The next moment I felt warm liquid splashing onto my face and I scrunched my whole face up in shock. He was peeing on me! The urine was warm and it ran up my nose so I was choking and trying to breathe through it but without opening my mouth. He was still holding my head so I couldn't get away.

I pushed off the ground with all my strength but I just couldn't get away from him. His knees on my elbows hurt so much that my arms were going numb and I was scared if I moved too much he would hit me again. 

I started crying, tears running past my tightly closed eyelids. I wanted to die, I was so humiliated and grossed out.

Finally the guy's stream ran out and he shook his dick a couple times so the last few drips splattered across my neck and tee shirt. He just stayed squatted over my for a few moments. I kept my face screwed up and hoped this would be over soon.

The guy roughly yanked my head backward so my neck was stretched out and the back of my skull hit the concrete. He hunched over and I felt something rubbery and wet slipping across my face. I hoped it wasn't what I thought it was.

He shifted his weight so his knee caps crushed my elbows onto the gritty concrete and it was all I could do not to cry out in pain. I felt the rubbery thing jabbing at my mouth again and I clenched my teeth tight shut. The skinhead barked out a laugh and started poking at my mouth with his fingers, trying to push my lips and teeth open. I tried to pull away but his hand on my head was too strong. The taste of his fingers on my lips was muddy and foul.

"Suck it," He growled. I managed to jerk my head sideways, it ached where my hair was pulled but at least I was away from his dick. "Suck it, you worthless piece of shit."

He hit me in the side of the head. His fist must have been balled up with the knuckles sticking out because the pain was sharp and precise and blinding. White lights strobed in circles behind my eyes like watching ripples on the surface of a phosphorescent sea. The pain made me choke and cry out and the punk took the chance to push his dick in my mouth.

His skinny penis tasted like musk and lint and urine, he couldn't seem to get it into my throat while his legs were spread out to pin my elbows down so instead he just rammed it against the top of my mouth and wriggled it around there. I was gagging and crying and urine was running into my nose and down the sides of my face. 

"Come on, you useless piece of shit," He yelled, and spit flew out of his mouth and hit my forehead. "Suck it. What the fuck are you good for if you can't even suck cock?"




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 01



He bucked his hips up so his dick slid along the roof of my mouth. I couldn't stand it anymore.

I bit down, hard. 

The punk bellowed like a bull and grabbed onto my mouth with both hands, trying to force my jaw open. His fingers were sliding all over the inside of my front teeth and it ached, like he was going to pull my teeth out from their roots. 

When I didn't let go he started hitting me again, over and over. The side of my skull, my face, my neck. Again and again his fists collided with my skin and I heard the dull fleshy thuds as if they were far away, cancelled out by the ringing in my ears. I was so dizzy I felt like I was going to throw up and the pain in my head was comparable only to the pain in my arms where his weight was on me. 

I was vaguely aware of releasing my jaw when the pain got too much. He kept hitting me with both hands, the motion of his arms causing his body to rock so his knees forced my elbows again and again against the gritty concrete.

Just when I thought I was going to pass out or throw up, I heard footsteps. Heavy boots, running.

A voice growled, "Get off him you munter." 

The weight was gone from on top of me but I could only lie on my back and concentrate on breathing. My whole body seemed to throb and I wondered if I'd pass out. There seemed to be something wrong with my ability to get air in my lungs, but it could just be the panic and sobbing. I clenched and unclenched my fists to get blood back into them. Squinting through my stinging swollen eyes I could see the haze of a street lamp above me. Then a face there, a shaven head which the haze of light surrounded like a halo. 

I barely had time to cringe before I recognised it as Damien, not my attacker. I tried to smile at him but my lips weren't working properly, they felt heavy and tight. 

I croaked out his name, though the sound was so quiet I would be surprised if he heard me. Then he was crouching down over me and I couldn't move my head to look for fear of puking, but his hands on me were gentle and I felt the warm rush of relief and gratitude. I was alive. Damien saved me.



Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 02



Damien

I was already in love with Elijah by the time I saved him from a rapist thug, but I hadn't really admitted it to myself.

I first noticed him when I was manning a merchandise stall at No Way Out -- the big venue hired for hardcore punk gigs where both straight-edgers and skins can come, kids from either side of the bridge and the two different scenes.

I saw this really cute straight-edger hanging around in the crowd, talking to some guys I know. He was average height and slim -- skater slim rather than vegan thin. He was in shorts so I could see the nice shape of his calves, but his top was oversize and robbed me of any view of his torso. He had nut brown skin and the vivid black drugfree Xs on the back of each hand. 

I've always wanted to hook up with a straight-edge guy. It's like fucking a Christian, so hot because you know they want you so bad they'd give up their morals to have you. But most straight-edge guys are gross -- the drug free scene goes hand in hand with veganism and I'm not interested in skeletons. It's no fun ramming your hips into a bony ass.

But this guy was a real babe, and he also seemed shy and nervous -- his motions were jerky and he kept tucking his wavy hair behind his ears, tugging at the big tunnels he wore through his ear lobes. He'd look down when he was talking, and peek upward like he was scared of making eye contact but wanted to check he wasn't being laughed at.

I love shy guys. I love bossing them around and seeing shock and worship on their faces. The last couple guys I've been with have been shy, uni kids I pick up through my job as a mechanic. I love that moment when you break through their shell and find out just how slutty they secretly are.

The guys he was talking to were bogans, rough as they come. I knew them as acquaintances but they were both losers and I had no interest in being friends with them. What the hell did they have to say to a cute straight-edger?

I leaned over to the punk chick watching over the merch table next to mine. "Who's that straight-edge kid talking to Luke and Asha?"

"I don't know, Damien -- why don't you go ask?" She winked at me as she talked. All the girls in the scene want to be friends with me because it's so cool to have a gay friend, prove you're not a homophobe.

I slouched back in my chair and pulled my hood down over my forehead. Normally I would just go up to that guy, start charming the pants off him right up front. But I got in a fight with a skinhead this week -- a different skinhead, one of those racist Aryan pricks -- and it left me looking a bit shit.

I waited until Luke drifted over to the merch table and was flicking through some EP's.

"Hey Luke, who was that guy you were talking to before? Little straight-edge kid?"

Luke's face lit up in admiration and I felt myself getting angry at him for no reason. "That's Elijah Court, new tattooist at Defiant. He's a genius. Did my back piece."

I muttered something in reply and looked past him at sexy Elijah, now laughing with a fat bearded guy and a group of other straight-edgers. I wondered how much persuading it would take for him to take my cock.

I started hearing more often about the new tattooist at Defiant. I'd look in at Elijah, once I even went in to watch him tattoo a puma on my mate Karl. He got a real intense look on his face when he tattooed, it was hot to watch. He was good at it too. I found myself getting more and more interested in this shy little guy.

I usually didn't go to big gigs that often. No way Out sounds like a good idea -- combine the two scenes to get bigger crowds, more money, that community harmony bullshit, a wider range of guys to check out. But it works out kinda shit -- everyone's so ready to start a fight. If you throw a punch and hit someone from the other side of the bridge you'll get lynched. And what's the point of going to a hardcore gig if you can't just throw a couple punches? 

But I wanted to see sexy Elijah. So I was going to more combined gigs, even if my guys didn't come with me and it meant hanging out with half strangers. I was getting obsessed with Elijah, maybe because I hadn't gotten laid in so long but also because all the guys were going on and on about what a genius he was. It was like everyone was in love with the guy but he was still this completely shy loner.

If I had guys lining up to talk to me I sure as hell wouldn't still be as shy as him. Girls giggled over him too, for that matter, but I was pretty sure he was into guys -- I'd seen him sizing up a guy's crotch every now and then when he though no-one was looking. It made me ache to have him sneak a look at me that same way, to stare at me with that same needy lonely expression.

He was at Now Way Out one Friday night. I was standing outside talking to some of the guys and having a beer before heading in and I suddenly felt this tingling in my spine. I turned around and there was Elijah, walking along looking down at his feet with his baggy tee being whipped around in the wind and his basketball shorts swirling around his knees. 

His wavy shoulder-length hair was tucked behind his ears, making his stretched lobes look huge -- the tunnels stuck out from the side of his head like cup handles. He was hunched over as he walked, trying to protect himself from the wind. As he drew up closer to us one of the guys I was talking to turned and saw him and called out.

"Hey," Elijah said, coming to a jerky stop and glancing around dazedly. His eyes didn't even seem to take me in. Fuck, and I was wearing my best tight black leather jacket and the bleached jeans which cupped my package and made it stand out like a tasty sausage ready to be eaten. Straight guys stole looks when I these wore pants and this shy little guy glanced past me.

Kyle was engaging him in conversation -- talking at him, really; Elijah was just standing there nodding. From a few paces away I could see the goosebumps on Elijah's defined forearms. I wondered if his nipples were hard under that loose tee, whether they were sharpened into little peaks that would be sensitive to the touch. The thought made my cock jerk and I nearly moaned out loud. I openly rearranged my junk, looking straight at Elijah and hoping he'd notice the movement. No luck. He just made his awkward goodbyes and wandered off inside.

I kept an eye on little Elijah all night, watching him standing around in the crowd, joining in on conversations but never starting any. It was a pity he was drug-free, he might be a lot less shy if he just had a beer to nurse all night.

During the third band I lost track of him, the crowd were really heating up and starting to push in around the stage. I was up at the front pumping my fist along when I suddenly saw Elijah push his way into the fight pit, spinning those toned arms around. He was so much smaller than the punks in the pit and of course he got knocked straight over. No-one seemed to notice. He was going to get trampled. I quickly grabbed him and dragged him away from the fight pit.

I only meant to help. But once I had my hands on him I wanted more. Elijah's warm slim body felt so good in my arms and I realised he was totally at my mercy. I let my left hand slip under his baggy tee and feel his skin. His belly was flat, like I knew it would be. His ass pressed against me, round and inviting. My dick swelled in my jeans. 

I let my fingers slip under the waistband of his loose shorts. No boxer line. It was fashionable to wear your boxers higher than your pants but either Elijah wasn't into that or he wasn't wearing underwear. My cock jerked again at the thought. Oh, fuck yeah.

"You okay there little guy?" I whispered into his ear but it came out more guttural than I'd meant. The flesh of his big stretched lobes rubbed against my lip and it was all I could do to not lick him right here in public. It felt like he was trembling slightly, like he was scared. Such a turn-on.

Under his shorts his skin was moist with the sweat from dancing. I followed the long fine hairs of his snail trail to the waistband of his underwear - damn -- and stuck a couple fingers under.

Elijah twisted in my grip and looked up at me. I met his eyes. I wanted to just smoulder at him and melt him with my sexiest grin. But the look of shock and fear and urgent desire in his eyes sent a jolt through me. My smile faltered and I found myself just staring into his face.

And that's when his friend came up and got all in my face, yelling at me enough that the band stopped playing. That's the problem with No Way Out -- everyone's always ready to start a fight and you just have to stand there and take it. 

The only consolation was seeing Elijah tugging at the hem of his tee, obviously trying to hide an erection. That made me grin.

I went outside to grab a smoke. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I wanted to brood and think about that hot little ass Elijah had been rubbing into me. The sexy flatness of his belly. The weird way he'd looked at me like I was saving him from drowning. But, oh. That ass, that body.

I was on my second smoke, alone behind the building, when the backstage door burst open and Elijah himself walked past.

He headed to a beat up old Corolla and opened the driver's door then quickly climbed in the backseat. What the fuck? I looked around and we were alone, I thought about maybe following him in but he was already crawling back out. He was holding a pair of drumsticks.

I wasn't going to miss a chance to talk to him, maybe even hook up with him out here where we were alone. It wouldn't be the first time I'd made a guy suck me off out back of a gig. I'm sure Elijah would be interested, he'd loved my hands on him.

"Hey," I called back after he locked the car. "You play drums?"

"No, my friend Pete. My boyfriend." He was jittery as anything, staring at me then looking away quickly.

Boyfriend. Ugh. The one who was so quick to get up in my face?

"That fat hairy guy is your boyfriend?"

Shy little Elijah was so quick to defend him. "He's not fat," He shot back, glaring at me. I saw his eyes run down my body and I subtly shifted my legs so my package would be more noticeable.

Was he only into bears? I wouldn't stand a chance. But no boy had said no to me yet. I bet I could change his mind. Fuck him so good he'd forget that fat hairy ball of anger. 

I introduced myself and held out my hand, and he stumbled the shake and messed up introducing himself and turned bright red. Fucking cute. On his skin the blush was a deep ruddy brown, it looked like warmth was just radiating off him. 

I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. Which was weird, I'm not an affectionate guy -- you treat anyone too nice, they start getting attached and wanting to stay around. But I wanted to touch Elijah. 

Probably just me needing to get laid.

He was talking again, looking down at his feet. He was quiet and awkward, fidgeting like he was nervous. Nervous to be around me? "I'm sorry my friend was acting like a jerk before, he was just worried you were hurting me."

I took a deep drag of my cigarette and held before letting it out. Might as well make a move now. I looked up at him and said quietly, "That's not what he was worried I was doing to you."

Elijah basically creamed his pants right there and then. He started coughing like he was stalling for time. Then he asked me what I meant, acting totally innocent. I grinned.

"Your friend was worried I was going to lay a hand on that virgin ass of yours. He's damn right to be worried, too."

It didn't get the reaction I wanted. Elijah looked like he was about to puke. Sure, it was strong, but most twinks love that. Plus I clearly meant it - I wanted this guy bad, and I wanted him to know it.

But he didn't melt, or drop to his knees, or look like I should walk forward and push him to his knees. He hunched himself right over like he was trying to hide in his oversize shirt, his eyes skitting around and looking at anything but my winning smile.  

I looked straight in his face and grabbed my crotch, feeling my half-hard dick in my tight jeans and cupping it into a fistful of manhood for him to look at. His eyes dropped to my crotch and widened. For a few long seconds I thought I had him. But then he stuttered something about having to go, and rushed passed me. I called out his name instinctively but he was already gone.

Looked like he really was into his fat boyfriend. Fuck.

I live in a shitty flat outside above an old mall. The last two owners fell down the narrow stairs and died so someone decided it was 'cursed'. Good for me, I got it cheap. It's the wrong side of the bridge for my scene -- most of the ska and skinhead gigs are on the other side of the river, in a strip of dodgy pubs and sex stores the straight-edgers wouldn't dare walk past. But it's easy to catch a bus to work and it's a place of my own. I like it.

I spend most my free time hanging around outside anyway. Sometimes my mates will come round, or I'll just hang out alone and have a smoke. I people-watch a lot.

The Saturday after being rejected by Elijah I was alone. I thought about crossing the bridge and meeting up with my guys, but it had been a hard week at the garage and I kinda wanted to be alone. I took my transistor radio downstairs and stood around my doorstep, listening to some music and having a smoke, beer, and my own party for one.

About eleven at night I was feeling pretty buzzed and thinking about heading out after all. The mall I live by used to be real busy but they built better places closer to town and now this side of the city is kind of a wasteland, there's no bars and stuff here. So there weren't many people-watching opportunities and only the occasional drunk stumbling by.

I was shocked to see a familiar skinny figure walking down the middle of the poorly-lit street, head down and hands in pockets of his oversize shorts.

"Elijah!" I called out.

He looked up. I could see his face squeezing up as he squinted to see me in the dark. I took a deep drag on my cigarette so it burned bright and would cast shadows on my face. Can't make the job too easy for him.

"Why you walking alone? These streets aren't safe at night."

"You're alone," He called back. He was just standing there, in the middle of the street, squinting at me.

I grinned. Feisty little guy. "Let me walk you home," I called out, and I started walking towards him.

"No thanks."

I stopped. Was that fear in his voice?

I was close enough now I could clearly see Elijah, even in the dim light from the street lamps. He was in his usual oversize outfit, hiding the cute body I knew was underneath. There were dark shadows under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping much.

"You going home from a gig?" I was trying to be friendly. "It's a bit early to be heading home, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything. He was looking down at his beat up black Chuck Taylors, but he kept half lifting his head like he wanted to look at me. 

I took a long drag of my cigarette and watched as the action drew his attention. I deliberately lowered the hand that held the cigarette and grabbed my crotch with it, readjusted my growing bulge. His eyes followed the action. But as I raised my hand to my lips again I noticed his eyes were following me, not looking at my crotch at all. That move always worked on guys. Was it possible he was more interested in my tattooed arm than my cock? Seemed like that was what he was looking at.

"Let me walk you home," I offered again. I crossed my arm lazily over my belly, letting him have a good look at my tattoos if that's what he wanted. He gawked at my arm, but looked away quickly.

"I gotta go," He mumbled, and had started away at a quick walk before I could think of anything to say. 

Now I thought I knew a way to get at Elijah.

I'd seen the way he looked at my tattoos, with the kind of longing I reserve for a tight ass. He obviously had a weakness for body mod -- just look at those ears, the months it would have taken to slowly stretch his lobes larger and larger until they were the size of milk bottle tops.

Maybe I could use my tattoos to make him take an interest in my body.

I skulked outside his tattoo parlour on the weekends until I finally saw him alone behind the counter. It was two weeks since I'd seen him walking home alone and he'd rejected my offer of company.

"Do you have time for a lip piercing?" I asked as I crossed my arms and laid them across the high counter. 

Elijah looked up from the book he was sketching in and his eyes went immediately to my left arm, travelled along my tattoos before flicking up to my face. His lips were slightly parted and his face filled with desire. Oh, fuck yeah. If he'd only look at my cock the way he looked at my tattoos I'd be happy.

Get him hooked on my tattoos, draw him into the rest of my body. No use getting a tattoo from him -- I'd seen him with doing that puma for my mate, he'd been so focused. He didn't have care whose torso he was inking and I wanted him to know damn sure that it was me he was touching. If he had his hands all over my mouth, looking into my eyes... Yeah, that would get his attention.

Elijah cleared his throat with a little cough as he met my eyes and replied, "I can ask one of our qualified piercing --" 

I cut in, "I'd like if you did it." I was now leaning fully on the counter, my body tilting forward so I was only a hands length away from his face as he sat on his stool. 

I lowered my voice and ducked my head down so I was looking at him from beneath my lashes - with my strong eyebrows and the way I throw my broad shoulders back, it's sexy and killer. I know because I've tried it in the mirror hundreds of times. "I have a tattoo inside my lip, I don't want it to get damaged. I need someone good."

Elijah swallowed visibly, staring into my eyes like he was trapped. Fuck, that little lost boy expression on his face. I just wanted to push him against the wall right now, give him something to smile about.

But an instant later he'd turned away, pulled on a clear glove and was in full professional mode. "Let me see."

I leaned forward even further and opened my mouth, letting my lips fall open and pushing them forward slightly like I was miming sucking an orange. Or sucking a dick. I heared Elijah's breathing hitch but he didn't say anything, just reached for my lower lip. He was trembling.

His fingers touched my lips. I could feel the thrill even through his gloves. Warmth spread from his fingers and through my body. I could feel his breath against my cheeks and see the fine hairs on his chin, just poking out like he needed to shave. 

His eyes were so open and inviting, I gazed at them and, just as his fingers touched my skin, Elijah looked at me and our eyes met and I felt a tingling in my spine and a sudden rush of blood to my cock. Fuck, I had it bad for this guy. I needed to fuck him real soon.

Elijah looked down at my mouth and carefully pulled my lower lip out. He actually gasped when he saw my tattoo -- 'FAG' in gothic lettering across the fleshy underside of my lip.

"Holy shit," Elijah said, and it was so calm -- not a shocked cry. I wondered if maybe I'd put him into shock. But no, just his professional focus. "It shouldn't be too hard to place the piercing if you don't want it centred."

I nodded and uncrossed my arms so I could hook one of my fingers into my mouth beside his, the palm of my hand brushing across the top of his gloved hand and sending a little shiver down my arm. I pointed to the right side of my lip to indicate where I wanted it placed.

"You're not after a snake bite?"

I raised an eyebrow -- I couldn't talk with our hands in my mouth.

"A piercing on each side, to sit around the tattoo?" He took his fingers out of my mouth and raised them to his own to mime a piercing on either side on his lower lip. I could see some of my saliva on his gloved fingers and I imagined him just sucking it up. My cock jerked.




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 02



"I don't know, I'm easy to please."

I met his gaze full on and tried to melt him with my eyes. He turned away to toss the gloves. I lowered my voice and delivered the killer blow in a husky whisper right at his ear. "What would look better when my lips are wrapped around you cock?"

It was a lie, of course -- I've never sucked a guy, but the offer always drives them crazy so they'll do anything for you. It worked. Elijah's stumbled backward like I'd punched him in the gut. I grinned. All boys can be broken, and this sexy little virgin was going to be mine.

"Come on," I whispered. "What would you like to see?"

Elijah cleared his throat again. He was looking down and blushing real dark. He mumbled, "A lot of people like the snake bite because any swelling is balanced and it gives an even appearance."

"But what do you like?" I dropped my voice even lower. Elijah was actually shaking.

"One," He whispered.

"Okay. Just one. Let's go."

He made me sign some forms before leading me into the back room, but there was no more mention of getting someone else to do the piercing. 

"I'm focusing more on the tattooing side, but I have a free hour before lunch, so..." He explained, in a shaking voice. I thought about asking him to lunch but I wasn't sure what state my mouth would be in half an hour from now. I wasn't going to try and seduce him with a swollen lip.

He nodded at another employee, a girl who was hanging around by the tee shirt stand, and she happily took over the counter for him. I noticed her eyes lingering on him. Back off, bitch; this one's been claimed by Damien.

As I came around the edge of the counter I noticed Elijah was trying to pull his tee down further over his jeans. I couldn't see anything beneath his baggy clothes but I knew he was hiding an erection.

Elijah lead me into an unoccupied room right at the back of the store by the big mirror. He closed the door after us. I knew it was normal but it felt private and sacred.

I lay down on the tattoo chair without being asked. Elijah glanced at me before going over to the sliding draws with all the equipment and jewellery. I was wearing a fitted black tee and cut-off jeans, tight enough to pull at my balls as I lay down so I grabbed the crotch of my pants and readjusted. Elijah didn't look, he never bloody did.

"Ring or barbell?" He asked over his shoulder. 

"What'd you like?"

"Ring," He was quick to reply this time. I was getting to him, taking charge of him. "Just don't play with it too much."

I sent him a smouldering look full of sexy double-meaning but he totally missed it.

The room was small. Just the chair and a stool beside it, a bench with drawers for equipment and jewellery. My black Docs looked huge propped up on the chair's footrest. And I could hear Elijah's breathing, the slight hitch with every inbreath that proved he wasn't as cool and professional as he acted.

He settled down on the stool at the right side of my head, and leaned over to rest his elbow across my collarbone. I could feel his body trembling. The hitch in his breath became more obvious this close -- or maybe I was making him more nervous.

His arm was warm against me. I felt like my body was filling with warmth, spreading from the places he touched. I could see the hairs on his arm and a couple little nicks on the backs of his fingers. My cock started plumping up. Right now I could just grab his head and kiss him, he was that close. I could have my way with him right here in this tiny room.

Elijah had gloves on again and gently pulled my lower lip out to look at the tattoo again -- was that a shudder of desire through his body? -- then marked a spot on the outside of my lip with marker and checked inside again. He held up a mirror for me to check the placement.

The actual piercing was over quickly, needle in a plastic sheath then the ring pushed through and the plastic removed. Sharp, intense, quick. Elijah's face was intent as he worked, but he sat back happily after clipping the sleeper closed and glanced over my body as he stood up. It was only then I realised I'd totally rocked up -- I'm not into pain, but something about being that close to Elijah and having him so focused on me just turned me on. The pain of the piercing was actually kinda hot with Elijah so close.

I glanced down at my crotch and saw my cock was clearly outlined in my tight jeans, bulging to the left and pushing against the fabric so it moulded to the shape. A tasty mouthful outlined in denim. Try not noticing that, sexy Elijah!

I kept lying down as Elijah pulled of his gloves and dealt with the trash of little plastic packets. He was tugging at his tee again so I knew I'd had a good effect on him. He kept taking tiny glances at me, like he couldn't resist. Too fucking cute. I saw him flick his eyes across my tattooed arm and away, and then he half-turned to glance at my crotch before blushing deep brown and knocking his hand noisily on the container he was trying to open.

"You can look, if you want," I said in my most seductive voice. It was only slightly slurred by the pain in my lip. Elijah nearly fainted. His whole body shook and his head jerked back. Man this guy was wound up tight, it was too easy to get him worked up -- and too easy to imagine what it would be like to fuck him, to have him twitching and writhing like that when I had him bent over with my cock up his ass.

"My tattoos, I mean. You can have a look, if you want," Elijah was still looking away so I quietly added, "I'm sure your man wouldn't mind."

Elijah turned to face me, bracing his hands on the supplies table behind him like he needed support. I held out my left arm to him, pushing back the sleeve of my tee and acting like I wasn't nursing a very visible boner.

"But you're... You know," His voice was cracking with nerves and arousal. "You're... a skinhead."

I nodded and waited. Then I figured out what he meant. "You mean, I'm a racist homophobe with a bunch of mates waiting outside to lynch you? That's what you think?" Elijah looked down and bit his lip.

"Elijah, for fuck's sake, I shave my head and wear Docs and go to gigs, that doesn't turn me into an asshole. None of that white supremacy shit makes sense and it's not what being a skinhead is about -- just like picking scraps with skins isn't what being straight-edge is about. Bullshit stereotypes. I'm sure as hell not going to beat you for looking at me."

Long and passionate speech, I was proud of myself. And it seemed to work.

Elijah hesitated, then got the stool and brought it around the table so he could sit on my left side. He was trembling. "Why'd you get... You know. That word. Tattooed on your lip?"

"It's just a word. It's only an insult if we let it be," I shrugged. "I think it's kinda cool to snare at a guy and show off that tattoo right before I beat the shit out of him -- like, 'you can think I'm weak for liking dudes but I can still kick your ass'."

I grinned at Eli and he smiled back then blushed. He took my arm in his hands carefully and tenderly, nearly lovingly, and stroked his fingers across my skin as he stared down, absorbed in my tattoos.

I think tattooed guys are hot, but that's nothing on what I saw on Elijah's face -- like a love or hunger, like he needed to be looking at my tattoos and touching them. He traced his finger tips across the big hibiscus, the trail of stars filling up the skin on the way to the koi, the patch of roses. None of my tattoos are original, but Elijah was staring like they were works of art.

He was putty in my hands right now and I couldn't resist. I pulled my arm gently out of his grip and lifted myself up on the chair so I could pull my tee off. I heard Elijah's sharp intake of breath but I didn't look at him until I had the tee bunched in my right hand and lay back down on the padded chair, looking up at his face.

He was gazing down at my torso like a starving man looking at a buffet, his eyes flickering around, unable to focus on anything. I took his hand and placed it on my pec, between my collarbone and left nipple, so his fingers were resting on the calligraphy inked in black there. He seemed to finally come to his senses, and ran his fingers across the two lines of words which crossed my collarbone like a heavy necklace -- 'Loyal neither to friend nor flag, only to music'. 

I know I could stand to lose weight, a few too many beers hanging around my gut. But otherwise I know I'm hot. I like the way the muscles form along my sides and how my hips look in my low-slung jeans. I have a smattering of dark hair across my chest and a thick dark trail leading into my jeans, begging the eyes and hands to follow it down. 

I figured I could have been the fattest guy in the world though, and Elijah wouldn't have noticed. He was focused on my tattoos, the lettering on my collar bone and the tips of the colourful bird wing from my back piece which came through onto my sides -- I watched the fascination on Elijah's face as he stroked down my ribs.

He was completely absorbed in my body. His breathing was short and rapid and his eyes were wide in amazement. I was feeling it too -- it was so hot to feel worshipped like this, it had my belly fluttering and my spine tingling. I could feel sweat forming on my back where it touched the white vinyl of the chair. I loved the trembling in Elijah's hands as he ran them over my skin. Every brush of his fingers was going straight to my cock.

He tugged at the barbell through my left nipple. I gasped and my back arched and Elijah whipped his hand away quickly, like he had only just become aware of what he was doing. He blushed darker than I'd seen yet, and actually ducked his head down like he could hide it from my view. He looked mortified. 

He cleared his throat and got out of his chair, tugging at the hem of his baggy tee again. He wouldn't meet my eyes as he walked me out and I didn't say anything to him -- but inside, I was purring in delight. I was so in.

I saw Elijah a couple more times over the next few weeks. Each time I thought he would be mine and I was more and more obvious in my flirting -- once I told him that I could fuck him so hard he'd forget all about his boyfriend, once I actually groped him through his wet tee shirt and jeans. He'd always reject me, though I could tell how much he wanted me. That just made me want him more.

Then a whole month passed without me seeing him. Work got busy, I had to take up six days and Defiant wasn't open on Sundays so I never got a chance to see him there. There weren't any combined gigs and a big fight between one of my mate's and a straight-edge gig promoter meant I couldn't even try and find him on his own turf. I waited around outside my flat most nights but I never saw Elijah walking past.

I was stuck alone with my hand every night, running through the same memories of Elijah.

Then one night I was lying in bed stroking myself when I heard a pounding at the door. When I got to the window I saw Elijah walking away. I pulled my boots on without socks but by the time I got downstairs he was nowhere to be seen. 

I looked through side streets for him and had almost given up when I found some Aryan jerk beating a guy on the ground. I was already running when I recognised the little guy as Elijah. Holy shit.

Elijah

I was lying on the ground, bruised and bleeding with my head ringing and the stench of urine all around me.

Damien had my attacker on the ground and was kicking him like he wanted to kill him. When I told him to stop, Damien stared at me.

I thought he was going to ignore me because he turned back to the guy and stomped on his head. But then he spat angrily on the guy's face and walked over to me.

"You okay little guy?" He asked. His voice was low and raspy, his face screwed up in concern. 

He hooked an arm under my neck and tried to help me stand up but I was a real wreck, staggering and barely able to get to my knees. He put his arm around my waist as well and used both arms to haul me to my feet.

I was dripping gross all over him, but there was nothing I could do. I was staggering like a drunk. It felt like the earth was tilting under my feet and my head was agony. I thought I might throw up. I stank.

I wasn't very conscious of where we were going, just leaning on Damien and blubbering to myself and hoping we would stop moving soon so I could lie down and never get back up. I was aware of him opening a door with a key and then some steps -- so many steps! -- that he helped me up. Then we were pushing through a door into a narrow corridor and Damien was dragging me into a bathroom and I nearly collapsed onto the floor of the shower.

The shower had a bathtub in the bottom and Damien had to help me clamber over the high rim of the tub. He turned the shower sprinkler on then climbed in behind me. 

I turned my face away from the sudden rush of frigid cold water and Damien swore and started apologizing, tilting the head of the shower away and waiting for it to warm back up. Then he turned the water back on to me and started washing me. I tried to help but I was really quite useless, barely conscious. Everything was spinning and I really wanted to hurl.

I was conscious of his hands, running thought my hair and on my face and tilting me this way and that so I got enough water washing over me. He dragged my sopping wet tee shirt off me and fumbled with the button of my jeans. I didn't resist, just moved however he wanted to get me naked.

All I could see was a blurry distinct shape -- the crying and the beating combined to mess with my sight. I started shaking for no reason.

"It's okay," Damien whispered. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest, his legs parted so they lay on either side of me and his wet jeans rubbed against my thighs. "It's okay. We'll just wash you off and get to bed, okay?"

I tried to respond but only a wet globby noise came out when I opened my mouth. We stayed in the shower, Damien gently tilting my body so the water could run over different bits of it, until the water started to run cold. 

I woke lying in a ridiculously soft bed, my head on a cushion which felt like heaven. There was a warm naked body spooned up behind me and I rolled over to grab onto Pete, nestle into him.

Only it wasn't Pete¸ and I was in agony. My head throbbed and when I moved it was like my whole body was being stabbed with blunt sticks. I sucked in a breath and whimpered and Damien half-woke beside me, mumbling and pulling me closer to him.

Everywhere my bare skin touched him felt warm and sticky. The hand that gripped my ribs made them feel bruised and tender, but when Damien pulled me against him I felt his erection poking against my thigh. Shivers travelled down my spine and across my arm and suddenly I wasn't feeling pain, I was just feeling the heat of his dick against me. I just closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep.

The next time I woke up was when Damien was trying to feed me. He had cut up some bacon and eggs and was trying to fork it into my mouth. I gagged at the smell and twisted my head away. "Vegetarian," I muttered. 

Damien snorted and pushed the bacon off the fork, started poking poached eggs into my face. I pushed him away, memories returned of last night and the man. I didn't want any more experiences with having things shoved in my mouth. I started to cry and must have fallen back asleep.

I finally woke up feeling starving and desperate to pee, and it was gloomy in the bedroom. Damien wasn't there. I staggered out of bed and nearly collapsed on the floor, hands and knees on the gritty carpet. 

I thought about dragging myself out on all fours but I didn't know where the bathroom was and didn't think I could find it if I was crawling along like a baby. So I forced myself to stand up and walked like a drunken person, clutching at my side where it hurt.

The bedroom exited on a narrow hallway and I looked to either side. One way lead to a staircase, the other to a small room with a table in it. Damien was sitting at the table and when he heard me he rushed over to help.

"Come on, little guy, don't hurt yourself," He murmured reassuringly as he wrapped his arm around my naked waist and helped guide me down the hall. "Looking for the toilet?"

I tried to say yes but my throat was all scratchy and my lips felt like they'd been stung by so many bees I could barely force them to open. A weird noise came out like a strangled baby goose but Damien didn't make fun of me, just guided me down the hallway to an open door. 

He led me through and over to the toilet, his arm around me the whole time. When he reached to grab my cock I pushed him away with a jerk of my elbow. I could do that much for myself, at least.

I grabbed my flaccid penis and waited for Damien to leave, even giving him a pointed look. But he stayed where he was, arm around me and hand on my hip for support. He wasn't looking at me but it was still mortifying. I really needed to pee, so I aimed and let loose.

It was so humiliating, the sound of the stream in the bowl and having Damien just stand there with my dick all limp. I felt sick, thinking about last night, the smell reminding me of being pissed on. I gagged and Damien's arms held tighter around me. 

When I was done he helped me to the hand basin and then back to bed. I looked up at him and he was wearing his glasses, I could see the reflection of the glass like points of moving light in the blurriness of my messed up eyesight. I wanted to tell him how good I thought he looked in glasses, but none of the words came out. 

He helped me back into bed and paused to claw his own clothes off before crawling in after me, pulling my back to him. The blankets were around our waists and I could see the dark shapes of the tattoos on his left arm. I fell asleep in his arms.

I slipped in and out of sleep for a long time. Sometimes Damien would be there, holding me or feeding me or helping me walk. Sometimes I would wake to find the house empty -- he was at work. He put his number on my phone and left it by the bed so I could call him anytime if I was worried, but I managed to drag myself to and from the bathroom okay.

I guess I could have gone to the hospital, but honestly I didn't feel that beat up. I was battered and hurt, but it wasn't long before all the pain was just bruises and I knew I couldn't have any internal damage. Mainly I tried not to think about the attack. I'd watch TV or try and sleep, just keep my mind off what had happened. 

A couple times I had nightmares about giant dicks peeing all over me, but when I woke Damien was there to calm me.

It was a week before I was properly lucid and able to think straight.

I woke up with Damien's dick pushing up against my back and his breath hot and dry against my neck. 

I lay still, feeling the unmistakably hard hot flesh flexing and growing against my butt. Most of Damien's body was pushed up against mine, we were touching along the entire length of my leg. But it was definitely that erection which had my attention.

I felt the familiar gnawing sensation of arousal, felt my own dick plumping up and lifting away from my body. I wondered if I could touch it without Damien waking up. If I grabbed and squeezed, just squeezed and didn't move my hand up and down, I could probably get away with it.

Very carefully, I shifted my hand from where it was on my hip. I hovered it along my body, finger tips brushing my skin and sending little shivers up my body. My dick throbbed as my fingers drew close to it, pulsing up and away from my belly so it was easy to wrap my hand around it. The feeling was so good I had to bite my lip to suppress a moan. I was here, in bed with Damien. Not a fantasy anymore. His erection was pressed right against me. 




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 02



I squeezed and released my dick, letting the pressure build up until my whole body was tingling. The muscles in my legs were tightening and making my feet arch and my toes curl in arousal. 

I gently shifted my hips up and down so my butt rubbed against Damien's hard length. The friction was sweet torture. It felt like little flecks of electricity were moving through my body from his erection, setting all my nerves tingling and making my dick hard and aching. 

My nipples contracted into sharp points and the cool air of the bedroom felt like gentle waves on my flushed skin. I looked down and saw the head of my cock poking out from under the blanket, just the head, but it was swollen and dark, dripping need onto the sheets.

I felt Damien's dick pulse against me, responding to the contact, and it sent such an intense shiver of pleasure through me that my back arched and my head jerked back. The back of my skull collided hard with Damien's face and I felt his body stiffen as he swore and grabbed at his nose.

Oh shit. Panic flooded through me as I wondered what I should do -- pretend I was asleep? What if Damien kicked my ass over this? 

But he merely rolled over so he was on his back, breaking the contact between his dick and my skin, muttering swear words under his breath.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

Damien grumbled under his breath a bit more before replying, "It's okay, I hit you with my club and you fought back. Anyone would."

It took me a few moments to figure out he was talking about his dick, then I snorted in laughter and screwed my face up at the embarrassment. "Oh my god," I groaned.

"It's okay," He repeated. "Just give me some warning next time, before you go and break my nose."

We just lay there for a few moments, me still blushing and completely humiliated, hot waves of embarrassment rushing over me and letting me forget my bruises for a while. Damien was slowly rubbing his nose and occasionally grumbling under his breath or snorting experimentally. Finally he said, "You beat your boyfriend up like this too?"

"We broke up," I said. The words kind of shot out of me, like I was desperate to say them. I really wanted Damien to not think I was a slut, cheating on my man. But mainly I really wanted him to know it was okay to touch me now.

Damien was silent for a few moments. I was lying on my side so I couldn't see his face and I realised I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Butterflies of fear were swooping in my belly, fighting it out with my arousal at having Damien all naked and hard beside me.

"Would you like me to touch you?" Damien asked. His voice was so low it was like a growl shivering along my spine. I whimpered and bobbed my head up and down in a furious nod. He leaned his head in so he can lick just beneath my ear and whispered, "Let me see you." 

And then he was gently pulling at my hip so I rolled over onto my back. He pushed the blankets down and away and I felt my dick springing free and sticking out in the air. I closed my eyes tight, too nervous to look down at myself.

His mouth was still at my neck, I could feel his breath against my collar bone. And then I felt Damien's fingers trailing onto my chest, exploring my bare skin, and the pleasure was so intense I moaned aloud and my head tilted back at such a sharp angle it made my neck twinge.

He tweaked one nipple and I moaned. Then he moved his mouth so his breath was on my nipple and when I felt his tongue flick out and touch me it was just too much. I opened my eyes and looked down at him, looked at my naked body, covered in bruises but spread out with Damien attached to my chest and my hard dick sticking up, purple and swollen and dribbling pre-cum onto my belly. Oh my god, it was too hot. Damien was touching me.

I grabbed my dick and squeezed and that was all it took. My back arched and all the muscles in my belly went tight, clenching up as my dick pulsed and my cum shot out across the back of Damien's head, across my belly, across his hand.

I whimpered and squeezed my dick again, easing out the last few ounces of pleasure. Was this what it would be like every time Damien touched me?

I met his eyes and they were glazed with desire. I wondered if he would want me to touch him now too. I'd love to, he was so hot; but the thought of it made me panic -- thinking of his dick near my mouth just made me remember last night and made me want to puke.

Damien kept staring into my eyes for a few moments then he gently shifted so he was lying on his side. The blanket was still draped over half his body so I couldn't see him but I could feel his hardness pressing against my thigh and it was equal parts sexy and terrifying. 

But Damien didn't pressure me to do anything. He lifted the blankets so I was covered. I rolled onto my side and he pulled me against him. Gently. I could feel his dick pulsing and throbbing against my butt crack but he just lay there with an arm wrapped around my belly until I finally fell asleep with my own semen dribbling down my chest.

I woke. 

Damien was watching me. He was propped up on his elbow, blue eyes intensely focused on my face from beneath those dark eyebrows. I noticed there was purple bruising around his eye, some scabbing around his lip piercing and his lips were swollen.

"You got hurt," I croaked. I went to raise myself up on my elbows as well, but my shoulder flared up in pain and I sunk back down again.

Damien's face flushed with concern. "Stay lying down, I'll get you food."

I called out protest but he was already taking his hands off me and getting out of bed. I didn't want to get up -- I had to admit, if he was willing to look after me then I was willing to be looked after.

He walked back into the room a few minutes later with a bowl of cereal, still completely naked. His dick wasn't fully erect now, though it was clearly plumped up -- nestled fatly on his dark hair, rubbing against his thighs as he walked.

He put the bowl and spoon on the pillow beside me and pulled the curtain open -- the window was at the head of the bed, so he brought his thighs right up into my face to reach it, I was staring directly at his heavy package. And when he reached up to grab the ratty old curtain, the motion made his dick swing up and away from his body a little, so it came dangerously close to my face. I was having trouble breathing again.

Damien started wandering around the room tidying -- picking up clothes and boots and magazines from the floor and putting them away in drawers or the washing basket in the cupboard. With the curtain open I could get a good look at him in the morning light. He looked like a total mess.

He was covered in bruises. His ribs and sides were purple and green from the bruising, and I could see the dark specks of blood at the surface even on his back -- which was mostly covered in a breathtaking tattoo of a phoenix with sweeping wings. There were scabs across his collar bone and the back of his head. One running down his neck and onto his chest was a nasty dark red like it was a very deep cut indeed. His lip piercing also looked red and tender which was worrying, it should look healed by now.

For all the damage he was totally hot. His legs and arms were nice and defined, muscles flexed when he moved. I could see the strength which had let him carry me off the road and up a flight of stairs. His little pot belly stuck out from his sharp hips and his butt was just perfection -- smooth and pale with just a dusting of freckles, the muscles tightening and releasing to form ripples like a sand dune as he walked. 

Every time he bent over I'd get a glimpse of his hairy balls from behind, his dick hanging half-plump, and maybe even a peek at his most private hidden place. I wondered if a tough guy like him ever let anyone touch there.

"What happened to you?" I asked at last, finishing off my cereal and putting the bowl on the ground so I could lie back in bed without worrying about knocking it over. My dick was erect again. When I lay on my back it pushed up at the blankets and made a little tent over my crotch.

"What do you mean?" Damien asked, raising a white singlet to his face to sniff before tossing it in the washing basket. I had a sudden impulse to grab it back, to bury my face in the smell of his sexy manly body.

"You're covered in bruises. Was it... Was it that guy?"

"Nah," He drawled, shrugging. The movement did fascinating things to his shoulder and back muscles. His tattoos rippled. "Just went a bit too hard at a gig last Friday. This is why I don't ever want to see you in the fight pit again," He grinned, gesturing at his bruised chest and looking at me with his head cocked so he was glaring out from under those dark brows. My heart fluttered. "How are you feeling?"

I groaned and lay my head back down.

Damien snorted his laughter. "You've been out a whole week, it's crazy. Have you been having a rough time lately?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, embarrassed. "Uni and stuff. I haven't been sleeping great. Nice to catch up."

"I called Defiant to tell them what happened so you don't have to go back into work. Is there anyone else I should call?"

I shook my head. The action sent off a storm of ringing noises. "What did you tell them?" I asked after a moment's thought.

"Just that you got beat up. I think the girl on the phone was impressed. You want me to call your parents or anything?"

"No, they would just think I got what was coming to me -- they kicked me out when I came out to them in my last year of high school."

Damien looked shocked. He straightened up and stared at me.

"You okay about it?"

"Yeah, I was never good enough for them and I was always going to let them down anyway. I live in a flat now, low rent but hell." He was looking at me sadly, but his dick was ignoring his sadness and starting to twitch and rise up away from his balls. My body did this to him?

"Well listen, I've got to get into work. You've got my number and stuff if you need me. I get back about five thirty."

"That's fine. Thanks for letting me stay here," I added. The thought of having to deal with my rowdy flatmates when I was this beat up was miserable.

"No prob," Damien grinned. There was a sparkle in his eye as he looked at me. "Now I've got you in my bed I'm never letting you out again."

I blushed and he laughed. He got dressed in some cargo pants -- it was the first time I'd seen him in something which didn't cling tight to those legs of his -- and a polo shirt with heavy work boots. 

He picked up my bowl from the floor and hesitated like he might kiss me on the forehead. But instead he just brushed my face with the back of his hand and said, "I'll see you this evening. Help yourself to the kitchen."

Damien

Elijah was all I could think about all day at work.

The way he had looked naked, even with his eyes nearly swollen shut. Even when he was crying. Crying is such a turn off. But on Elijah? Fuck. He was hot. That tight little body. The way he couldn't take my eyes off me. How needy and eager he was, cumming as soon as I touched him. So rewarding.

Needless to say, I was dripping pre-cum into my pants all day. Wish I'd worn underwear, I guess that's what it's for, catching all your excess pre-cum.

I was so relieved when five o'clock came. I rushed out the door with my overalls still on and had to run back into the lockers to change. My co-workers were laughing but as I stripped out of my work overalls I just told them, "Hot date" and they seemed to understand.

I was nervous getting off the bus, I actually jogged to my door and up the stairs. I couldn't wait to see Elijah. All these weeks, now here he was in my house and in my bed. But what if he'd left?

He hadn't left. He was there, standing in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. He stuck his head around the door to check it was me then grinned happily and went back to working.

"Hey," I growled, leaning on the door frame and gazing at his tight little body. He was wearing my clothes, one of my old tee shirts clinging to his chest and a pair of my loose work pants hanging off his hips. He looked so good in my clothes.

"Hey," He replied, and looked nervously at me over his shoulder before smiling again. "I'm cutting up some veges for omelettes."

"You wanna cut up some bacon too?" I teased and he wrinkled his nose at me. "Listen, you mind if I go out for a quick smoke? I really need one but I wanted to check you were okay first."

"Do whatever you like," He replied, and kept cutting up broccoli.

The omelettes were ready when I got back up. Elijah had cut up red capsicum in thin slices to look like bacon, I snorted in laughter when I saw it and Elijah grinned like an idiot.

We ate on the couch in my tiny living room, watching the sports highlights on the news. I kept stealing glances at Elijah. He was quiet, even when I tried to joke with him. I guess he might still be in shock or something. PTSD like in a war movie. I never know what to say to people when they're upset. 

Finally I just asked him, "You okay? Wanna talk about it?"

He pulled a face by puckering up his lip then winced as the motion hurt his bruises. He mumbled, "Not really."

Even covered in bruises he was sexy. I couldn't help staring at him, at his creamy dark skin and the curve of his back as he leaned over to eat. Even though he was clearly sad, there was still a ghost of a smile around his plump lips and his eyes were bright. I could stare at that face for days.

Elijah snorted at something funny on the tele and turned to me to make a joke. His laughter turned to shock. What was my face doing?

"This morning was really hot," I told him. "I had your cum on my head all day."

He dropped his plate in shock and that made me start laughing. He was so nervous. I hoped it was just arousal and not trauma. Should I be taking it slow? How did you treat rape victims? But this morning he hadn't been acting like a victim at all.

I decided to be direct. If he said no, I'd listen.

He was leaning over the chair, scooping up his spilled omelette crumbs. His tee shirt -- my tee shirt -- was riding up his back. And my pants were too big for him and gaping in the back so I could look right down them and see his smooth brown skin and the top of his ass. Oh, fuck yeah.

"Elijah," I cleared my throat. "Would you like some sex later?"

He froze. I could see the side of his face turning dark with a blush.

"I'm um," He stuttered. "I'm um..."

"You're a virgin?"

He nodded sharply and a beast in me purred. I'd suspected, but it was good to know that fat fuck of a boyfriend hadn't popped his cherry. Obviously hadn't treated him very good either, Elijah practically creamed his pants as soon as I touched his chest this morning.

I was used to sluts, guys who were delighted for you to fuck them and leave them. But Elijah was different. He needed to be taken care of, to be taught that sex was awesome. I could do that for him. I could treat him so good he'd be mine forever.

"I'll take it slow," I told him. "I'll make sure you enjoy it. You'll forget you were ever scared."

I gently placed my hand under his chin and lifted his head. His whole body shivered from that simple touch.

I tilted his head so he was facing me, and the vulnerability in his big brown eyes made my heart lurch. He was at my mercy. I could do anything to him.

I stroked my thumb across his lower lip and felt him tremble at the contact. He had such beautiful, sexy lips. I even liked his bruises -- I was so used to seeing them on myself, I thought of a black eye and a scratched face as a sign of courage and anger rather than weakness. He looked hot bruised. Maybe I could teach him to fight, so he could defend himself next time some dick tried to beat him up.

I grinned at the thought. Elijah's face lit up when he saw me smiling and that was all the permission I needed. I gently pushed his shoulder, and rested my other hand on his hip so I could guide him onto his back on my couch.

Elijah obeyed, lying down on the couch cushions with his head on the arm rest. I lifted his legs onto the couch then settled between them and looked into his eyes.

He was staring at me with his lips parted. His breathing was short, his chest heaving with each pant. He wanted me so bad.

I let my fingers brush over the tent he was making in his pants. He gasped. I undid the button of those pants, slowly. My hands were shaking. I couldn't believe what I was about to do.

"Be patient with me," I whispered. "I've never done this before."

When I unzipped his fly Elijah gasped again. I looked up to see his head tilted back and his eyes squinted into tiny slits. His face was contorted like he was in pain but I could tell from the little trembles of his body and the gentle thrusts of his hips that he was just desperately aroused.

He wasn't wearing any underwear. I pulled the fly open to reveal his dark hair and the base of his cock, swollen and pressed downward by the pants. I grabbed the waistband of the trousers and pulled them down, Elijah lifted his hips to help me without looking up or opening his eyes. When I had dropped the pants on the floor, I reached up to yank his tee up so I could see his smooth belly.

"You've got a nice cock," I whispered, letting my breath tickle across his sensitive skin. Elijah's body jerked and his cock waved around. It was small and slim but even and nice to look at, uncut with the foreskin tight across the dark head. I was glad it was small, it would make me look more like a pro if I managed to deep throat him.

I swallowed. Was I sure I wanted to do this? But, what was I so scared of? Losing my macho image? Who the fuck would know, except Elijah? And it was obvious he wanted me to touch me, I'd known since he practically fainted at the mention of it that time in his piercing parlour.

And I wanted it. Desperately. I wanted to make this boy scream my name when he came. I wanted to make him look at me like I was the god he worshipped. And I wanted to feel what it was like to have a cock in my mouth. Elijah's cock.

I reached out with my trembling hand and ran one finger along the underside of Elijah's cock, from the base to the tip. He cried out and his hips jerked again and I felt a ripple of pleasure. He was so turned on! By my hand!

I circled my fingers around his crown, feeling the velvety softness of his skin. The foreskin had peeled back more of its own accord and I could see his moist tip poking out, the dark pulpy red of his slit oozing out slow drops of pre-cum. I gently pulled the foreskin down to get a better look at the rich dark head of his cock.

Elijah let out a loud moan. He wiggled his hips, desperately moving in my hand.

I knew how I liked to be touched and I figured he would be the same. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, just below the crown, and jerked experimentally up and down. I put more emphasis on the down stroke, moving slow. At the bottom of the downstroke I squeezed with my lower fingers. I did it a few times, looking up to check that Elijah was still writhing around in ecstasy with his head thrown back.

I hovered with my face near his cock, my breath dusting over his exposed head. I waited until Elijah lifted himself up to look at me with lust-filled eyes, his mouth hanging open and a low needy groan escaping it. "Damien... Please..."

I opened my mouth, curling my lip back briefly to show off the 'FAG' tattoo. I hovered there a few seconds, my lip ring a tiny fraction away from his sensitive flesh. Elijah groaned and pumped his hips up so his cock was thrust into my mouth and I instinctively closed my lips around it. Elijah whimpered. His eyes were wide like he was surprised at his own daring.

My heart was racing now and I could feel myself starting to sweat. There was a cock in my mouth! Elijah's skin was warm, and slimy around the head. I knew he was small but he felt huge in my mouth, much bigger than anything I'd ever eat. I probed carefully with my tongue and felt the ridge of his foreskin, the change in texture from velvety smooth to pulpy and slick. I licked up a tiny bit and tasted the salt of his pre-cum.




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 02



He sighed and I realised I had just been sitting there in shock. I kept my mouth on him and wrapped my hand around his cock, started slowly pumping him again so his foreskin moved up and down. This time I could have my hand lower on his shaft because my mouth was over his head, and I could gently lap at his slit with my tongue. 

This close I could smell the manly, musky scent of his crotch and it made my head spin. I hadn't been this close to a guy's crotch before. It was hot.

I opened my mouth a little wider and slid my head down slowly, letting my tongue flick around his shaft and feel the slight ridge of a large vein running along the underside. I couldn't get far before his cock head was rubbing at the back of my throat and making me gag. I pulled back up but kept his cock in my mouth. I was suddenly feeling sorry for all the guys I'd face fucked -- I hadn't realised how difficult this was.

I tried to do what I liked on me. Head bobbing, tongue flicking. Squeezing and stroking with my hand. I got a rhythm going and started being less scared, more aware of the strange feel of a warm velvety cock in my mouth.

I also noticed how tense Elijah was. Muscles were standing out along his neck and arms. His bruised abs were clenched into ridges and his hips stood out in a sharp 'v' from his flat stomach. He was grabbing the air, tightening his fist around nothing. 

My own cock was straining in my pants and when I looked down past Elijah's cock I saw a dark wet patch forming on my pants. Oh, how much I would love to just crawl up Elijah's body and shove my cock into his mouth!

But I restrained the urge, and kept slowly moving my head and hand. I got a little more confident and moved faster, listening closely to the sound of Elijah's breathing. It started to hitch and he was mumbling under his breath. It didn't make sense but it was hot to listen to. 

I sped up even more, gripping firmer with my hand, and Elijah started whimpering. He bucked his hips and his cock went straight into my throat and made me gag. It made me want to hurl and I had to pull back to get some air. But oh fuck, he was so turned on! His whole body was trembling and he was making the hottest little noises.

My own cock felt like it was about to burst. I wanted so bad for Elijah to touch it. Instead I just rubbed it through my pants and the friction was making me moan around the dick in my mouth. I hoped Elijah was anywhere near as aroused as I was right now. I couldn't believe it was this hot to pleasure someone else, to taste and smell their arousal and see the orgasm slowly building up.

Elijah was steadily leaking pre-cum into my mouth, I had to keep swallowing it and some would slip out and mix in with my spit, slicking up his cock and forming bubbles between my fingers. I tried to move my head even faster, risking whiplash but loving the way Elijah cried out. I gripped my hand on his cock as tight as I thought he could handle

"Holy shit Damien, don't stop," He gasped, panting for breath and bucking his hips. His hands were bent into fists and I could see his arms shaking with the force of his grip. "Don't stop Damien, oh my god, I'm going to cum!"

I moaned around his cock but the sound came out as a bubbling slurp.

Elijah gasped one sudden deep breath and his whole body tensed up, I felt his thighs lifting off the bed from the extreme tension his body was under. "Oh my God, Damien, here it comes, I'm going to cum in your mouth!"

And then he was cumming. I felt a pulse in my hand like the cum was moving just under the skin, just beneath my fingers, and then my mouth was flooded with warm salty liquid and I swallowed it without hesitating, keeping my hand moving as I juiced another spurt out of him.

Elijah was muttering incoherently. "Damien, oh yeah, oh my God, oh my God yes." I kept moving my hand, stroking along his shaft, but slowly and with a looser grip. I pulled his foreskin back so I could lick all around his cock head and get the last drops out of his slit. Then I caught it with my lips and pulled it back over his head as I moved my head away.

I looked into Elijah's face and saw pure bliss. His grin was lazy and there were happy tears oozing down his cheeks. "That was amazing," He whispered.

I grinned. I couldn't help it. He was so fucking happy to have me touch him. 

"You're so hot Damien," He whispered. My grin got so big I thought it might rip my cheeks in half.

"You're hot too," I told him, looking into his bruised and swollen face and truly believing it.

Elijah smiled sleepily. "Everyone will think I'm a cool tough fighter now."

I snorted in laughter at the thought of skinny shy Elijah as a tough fighter.

"I'll tell everyone I beat you up," He added. I started laughing out loud.

I helped Elijah into the bedroom and on to my bed. It was still early but I could tell he was tired. That boy could sure sleep a lot.

He tugged his tee shirt off and rolled into my bed naked. I grinned -- shy Elijah, just taking his clothes off. Getting nearly beaten to death seemed a great way to get a guy into bed.

He watched me getting undressed. When I dropped my pants my hard dick slapped up into my belly and left a little arc of pre-cum in the air. Elijah's eyes got all big. I couldn't help smirking. He wanted me. One day, hopefully soon, that boy would be mine. 

The bed was narrow enough that we had to be touching. I tucked Elijah up between me and the wall, wrapping my arms around me so his fragile body was all surrounded by my big frame. My dick pulsed and throbbed against his butt. I tried to ignore the gnawing need in my belly.

"Tomorrow," Elijah whispered. "We should go into my work and get something for your lip. It looks like it's been ripped and you don't want bacteria getting in there." 

"Elijah Cock Bacteria," I whispered back. His body convulsed in silent giggles and I held him to me, loving the friction on my dick.

The next day we took the bus to Defiant. Normally when I got back from work I took a shower or at least washed my hands -- they get covered in grease -- but Elijah was keen to leave so I didn't waste time. He'd been inside for a week and he was excited to see daylight.

I had my arm around his shoulders on the bus and Elijah leaned into me. He looked happy, smiling like an idiot. His bruises were fading but one eye was swollen and surrounded by black. 

The pretty goth girl behind the counter at Defiant looked delighted when Elijah walked in. Her smile dropped as he walked closer. "Oh my god, they really did a number on you," She whispered in pity.

Elijah just shrugged and headed into the back rooms. I wasn't sure if I should follow him or not so I just hung around the counter. The goth chick was giving me weird looks. Maybe she was wondering if it was me who hit him. Or -- I remembered the way I'd once seen her flirting with him -- maybe she was wondering what our relationship was.

Elijah came back out with a small white bottle. He insisted we put some on my lip right then and there. I made a big show of leaning into him and putting my hand on his waist as he dribbled the liquid onto my swollen lip. When he finished I grabbed him by the wrist and kissed the palm of his hand, looking straight into his eyes. He blushed and grinned. When I glanced at the goth girl she was looking shocked and disappointed. Damn right.

"Can I take you out for dinner?" I asked. We were still so low and my voice came out a low growl.

Elijah's eyes crinkled up when he smiled at me. It was adorable to look at.

We wandered along the streets looking in at restaurants. Elijah didn't seem interested in anything so we ended up just buying food court Indian. We ordered it to take away and I lead Elijah down to the river path.

We found a private spot on a large flat rock hidden by trees. You couldn't see it from the walking path but it had a wide view of the river. You could even see the main bridge.

I wrapped the empty takeaway containers in the bag they'd came in and jogged off between the trees to put them in the bin. When I got back Elijah was still on the large flat rock, standing there and looking out over the water. He looked so hot.

I walked up behind him, trying not to let my heavy work boots make too much noise on the smooth stone. He didn't flinch when I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my body up against his. His back was pressed into my chest and I could feel the warmth of him through our shirts. 

I rested my chin on his shoulder so my face was pressed against his neck. He had such a thin neck, I was so much stronger than him that I could just strangle him right here and now and there was nothing he could do about it. But I didn't want to, I wanted to touch him, to feel that fine body twitching and writhing and see bliss on his face again.

I ran my hands up Elijah's chest and let my fingertips linger on his bare arms. He shivered slightly and made a soft little sigh. When I ran my fingers over his nipples, Elijah's whole body shuddered and his butt pressed back against my crotch.

I growled and pushed my hips forward. His ass made delicious friction against my engorged cock. It felt like all the blood in my body had pumped to my cock. Like my whole circulation was pulsing in time with my throbbing cock.

Elijah's ear was so close to my mouth. I breathed out gently and watched as goosebumps rose on his neck and the little hairs along his neck stood on end. I leaned against him until his shoulder blade pushed my nipple piercing into my skin.

I closed my mouth around Elijah's ear lobe and sucked gently, running my tongue around the plastic circle of his big flesh tunnel then flicking my tongue inside. I pulled back and whispered into his ear, "I could stick my tongue right through your ear lobe and lick your neck."

Elijah laughed, but it was a shaky laugh. It made his body tremble so his ass rubbed against my cock again.

I groaned. I had to feel him. Who cared if it was in public, I wanted to feel Elijah and I should be able to. And anyone who happened to see was lucky, getting a glimpse of my sexy Elijah.

I nipped at his neck and let one hand drop down to his crotch. Elijah started whimpering at once, keen for more. 

I massaged the front of his jeans, trying to grope for his cock beneath the bulk of his fly. I felt the undeniable warmth of his cock pushing against the denim and into my palm and I gave it a little squeeze.

Elijah choked a noise. It was more a gasp than a moan, he was breathing too shallow and quick to manage anything more. His head was leaning back against my shoulder and I noticed he had his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. He was blessed out and oblivious to everything except me.

He was wearing a belt to keep the jeans on -- they were an old pair of mine, too tight for my hips but loose on his narrow body. I had to fumble it off and the moments wasted felt like agony. Finally I could unzip him and pull his fly aside and let his beautiful cock spring free. 

I couldn't do anything for a few moments except stare at him. I was tall enough that I could lean over his shoulder so I could run my eyes over his chest and down to his slender cock, jutting out from the heavy denim.

"Holy shit," I whispered. He looked so good, out here in the sun. "You don't mind..?"

"Please," He gasped. His body trembled. I was used to guys begging, but I wasn't used to feeling a lurch of pride and delight from knowing that I was doing it right.

I growled deep in my throat and pushed at the loose jeans until they fell down to his knees. I looked down at his little dick sticking out into the air, all exposed and visible to anyone who wanted to look. Oh, fuck yeah.

His foreskin had pulled back to expose the rust-coloured head of his cock and I watched my hand close around the silky column. His cock was in my hand. There was sticky pre-cum forming bubbles around his piss slit.

"Fuck, you're so turned on," I growled, watching the pre-cum oozing out and forming a gooey pool around his foreskin. "You're so hard for me."

"Yeah..." Elijah moaned. His breathing was short and sharp. I could feel his arms tensing as he clenched his fists.

I shoved my other hand inside his shirt so I could feel his lean belly. His whole body was trembling and I could feel the muscles in his chest and stomach tightening in arousal. Oh, fuck yeah. I found one pointed nipple and tweaked it hard enough that Elijah squealed. His body shuddered and he pressed his ass back into me to let me know he liked it.

My cock was trapped between our bodies and I knew there would be a giant pre-cum stain on my pants. I was so close to just shooting right here and now. It was kinda hot -- the tingling all through my body, like I was gearing up for a fight.

I gripped Elijah's cock firmly and began to stroke hard and fast. Elijah cried out in delight and started bucking his hips in time with my strokes. He was ramming his hot little ass up against my cock again and again. I bit down on his neck and sucked at the skin to keep myself from swearing out loud at the great feelings. 

"Oh God," He was whimpering. "Oh Damien... So good!"

I pinched his nipple hard so he shuddered back against me. I held him there, his body pressed against mine. My hand on his cock was going crazy, moving as fast and gripping as hard as I could without hurting my wrist.

"Damien..." Elijah panted. "Oh, Damien, I'm gonna blow, oh my god, it's too good!"

I sped my hand up even more, using the strength of my whole arm. I felt Elijah's whole body tense and start to shake. His head jerked back so the back of his skull whacked into my cheek bone and the pain made me see stars.

"Keep going Damien, I'm going to... I'm going to... Oh fuck, I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" He cried, so loud anyone would be able to hear him from the path, and he shot his creamy semen all across the rock and my hand. 

"Holy shit," I whispered into his neck. There were still lights popping behind my eyes but I could focus on the delicious sight of Elijah's semen gushing out of his pulsing dick.

I kept stroking him as I listened to his breathing slow. Finally Elijah's body went limp and I helped him back into his jeans. 

He turned round to stare up into my eyes. He was so close. He looked flushed and delighted. "Holy shit Damien, that was amazing."

"I aim to please," I smirked. I didn't mention that I thought he'd been moaning loud enough for anyone on the path to hear.

I couldn't resist resting my hands on Elijah's hips as I talked. His own arms quickly locked around my waist and he leaned into me. I felt the soft tickling of his breath at the collar of my shirt.

"You smell like greasy car," He complained. The top of his head was barely in line with my nose.

"It's my job to smell like car."

Elijah looked up like he was about to say something else, but he stopped suddenly. His lips were so close that I could feel his breath. Suddenly my head was spinning and, before I could think about what I was doing, I let myself lean forward just enough for our lips to touch.

There was a sudden burst of cold that was Elijah's sharp intake of breath, but he didn't pull away. I opened my mouth and felt the gentle chaffing of my chapped skin against his smooth lips. I pushed my tongue out to stroke across his lips and Elijah responded by opening his own mouth and flicking his tongue out invitingly.

Holy shit. So this was kissing. I'd never let a guy this close before. I'd never given a shit about a guy like I did about Elijah. But now here he was in my arms and it felt so fucking right. I didn't want it to stop.

I tightened my arm around his neck until I nearly had Elijah in a headlock and pulled his head hard enough against me that our front teeth knocked together with a sliding squeaking sound. I sucked his tongue into my mouth and was surprised to feel the rod of metal shifting around in there. I'd never realised he had a tongue piercing. I imagined what it would feel like sliding over the head of my cock and I groaned into Elijah's mouth.

Elijah made a tiny whimper in the back of his throat. I sucked his tongue like I sucked his cock last night, inexperienced but loving it. I held his tongue captive with my mouth so the balls of his steel rod settled against my front teeth and my lower lip. 

I could hear him whimpering more frantically now, the sounds turned into vibrations in my mouth. His hands were scrabbling at my shirt like he wanted to get in at my skin. The kiss was passionate and intense and so intimate that when I finally pulled backward, breathless, I was amazed to see that we were still right there in public.

"Come on," I whispered. "Let's go home."



Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 03



Elijah

I didn't want to fall for Damien too hard. But I couldn't help it. I'd been nursing a crush on his delicious body for weeks. Then he saved me and cared for me and now I was well on the way to being in love. And after that kiss by the river... I felt like I was glowing, like I was happier than I had ever been.

We'd never used the word, but I felt like he was my boyfriend. This is what it felt like to have a boyfriend.

And when tough unromantic Damien took my hand, holding it as we walked back along the river path, I couldn't keep myself from grinning like an idiot.

Damien and I lounged around and watched tv at his house. He got a beer and a packet of chips and offered me a Coke but I just had a water instead -- I was already feeling wired enough from his company, I didn't need caffeine too.

When he sat down at one side of the couch, leaning on a pile of his battered but comfy cushions, I'd hesitated. I wanted to sit beside him, maybe snuggle up. But he looked fierce there and I was suddenly nervous.

"Come here," Damien said, noticing me hovering in the doorway. He put his beer aside and piled some cushions on the floor. He spread his legs so I could settle myself on the cushions with my back against the sofa and Damien's legs on either side. 

He started rubbing my shoulders and I groaned and leaned back into his touch -- his hands were firm and I could feel my nervous tension leaving. Though whenever I thought of what we'd done here -- how just last night he'd sucked my dick until I came into his mouth, right here on this sofa -- it made me flush with arousal and my whole body became tense again.

Damien started slipping his hands inside the collar of my shirt, letting his fingers stroke against the bare skin of my neck and collar bone. I remembered last time I'd been in this position, feeling Damien stroking me from behind, and the memory made me shiver. He was so fucking hot, and I promised myself that tonight I wouldn't run away like I had that night in the rain.

"Why do you always wear these stupid loose tops?" Damien's voice interrupted my thoughts.

I didn't reply and just leaned my head back to enjoy his hands.

"Elijah," He growled.

I sighed and said, "I get teased a lot about being skinny. I thought I could, you know, hide it..."

Damien's hands froze and I wondered if I'd said something wrong. When he pulled his hands out of my shirt and got up off the sofa I knew it.

Damien walked around me and out of the room. I heard his footsteps on the stairs out of his apartment and just sat there, stunned. What was going on? What had I said that was so wrong?

After a while, when I was starting to hyperventilate and think about going home, I heard the door unlock and Damien climbing back up the stairs.

He walked into the living room with a cardboard box and a grin. "Got a storage locker downstairs," He told me. 

I looked in confusion at the box he dropped on the floor, which was taped up at the top and had writing scrawled and crossed out all over it.

"Some of my old clothes," He told me as he started ripping at the tape on the top of the box. "They should fit you -- I bulked up a lot after high school, I used to wear tees and stuff like you like -- some old band tees and stuff I'd hate to throw away and you'll look fucking hot in."

I was just sitting staring at him in confusion. Damien looked at me and grinned. "Elijah. You're too fucking sexy and you should show it off. If you're going to be my piece of ass I want everyone to know that it's a hot piece of ass."

His words were affectionate enough to make up for their crudeness. I glowed.

Damien pushed the box aside and crawled toward me on all fours. He leaned his forehead against mine and looked into my eyes. "Seriously Elijah. Take that useless oversize piece of shit shirt off so I can see you."

I moved my trembling hands to the hem of my shirt but I obviously wasn't taking it off fast enough for Damien, who growled and grabbed it by the collar and started pulling the shirt off over my head. It was a violent move but the desire in his eyes was countered by the gentle way he pulled my head to his and kissed me. His lips were soft and the kiss tentative and so caring I felt my heart aching.

"Come to my bedroom," Damien whispered as he rested his forehead against mine.

I nodded quickly and we went to the other room. Damien took his shirt off and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a tight hug so our bare chests smacked together, skin on skin. He bit and sucked at my neck and his hands gripped my lower back and pulled at my skin, massaging me like he'd been massaging my shoulders earlier.

"You're so fucking hot Elijah," Damien growled.

He dropped one arm so it was hooked under my butt and, before I could do more than cry out in surprise, he was picking me up and bodily carrying me to his bed. He climbed on after me, his body taking up most of the narrow space so he had to press against me.

He was right there next to me, his warm body with its intoxicating smell of manly sweat and engine oil. His tattoos flexed as he moved and the light would catch on his nipple piercing and make it shine. I could just melt into a puddle of desire.

I reached out a hand to touch his chest, nervously, still not confident of touching this sexy skinhead. He grinned and grabbed both my hands, shifted his weight so he was on his knees resting either side of me with both my hands caught in his. The pose reminded me forcibly of my near rape and for a moment I froze with fright, but then Damien was rubbing my palms over his tattooed skin and I forgot everything except the warmth of his body.

He let go of my hands and for a moment I hesitated. But then I accepted his permission. I ran my hands across his chest, loving the firmness of his pecs and letting my fingertips play across his nipple piercing until he was groaning out loud. I stroked the outlines of his tattoos, as far as I could reach until my hands were disappearing around his sides.

I loved his hard chest, the gentle roundness of his belly. I knew I was staring at him with adoration, my breath coming in pants, but Damien seemed to be enjoying it. 

I could feel the tension in Damien's body, see that he wanted to be taking charge. But he wanted me to be comfortable with his body so he was letting me take my time, get to know him and enjoy him.

Finally Damien dropped down onto his elbow and lowered himself so he was lying on his side on the bed facing me, propped on his elbow. Now it was his chance to explore me, to run his hand wonderingly across my chest. 

He rubbed his palm and then his fingers across one of my nipples. Little tingling waves shot out from his touch. He pinched me hard enough that I cried out and my back arched, but not enough to be true pain -- it felt like a warmth was spreading through my body, like happiness was radiating out from his touch and the aggression of the pinch only made the sensation more intense.

Damien lowered his head so he could take my nipple between his teeth and chew gently on it, dragging more groans from my open mouth. He pinched the other between his fingers and toyed at my peaked skin until I was crying out and my whole body was writhing. And then he kept going, stroking and sucking at my skin until it felt like I was going to burst of the pleasure of it, like there were hot sparks of desire running all along my body from his touch. 

I'd already cum just a couple hours ago but my dick was so hard now, throbbing and leaking into my underwear. Damien had me so worked up I was afraid that even brushing his hand over my dick would be enough to break me.

He had me so turned on I was whimpering and begging, my hands clutching aimlessly at his arms and chest. "Please," I whimpered. "Please, Damien..."

His hand stroked down across my flat belly to the waistband of jeans. I whimpered and bucked my hips toward his hand.

He was sucking and licking my nipple but now he shifted his head so he could trail kisses up to my jaw, his teeth gently scraping against the skin of my chest and neck. His mouth found my earlobe and he suckled the sensitive skin there, licking my neck and nibbling at my lobe. I had soft silicone tunnels in so Damien could put his teeth on either side of my lobe and bend the tunnel between them.

His mouth felt so good on me, I was shivering from every touch and it was like there was a breeze rippling across my skin and making all the small hairs on my neck stand up. It felt like every nerve on my body was centred on his touch and I was whimpering and writhing beneath him, twisting my head away so he could get more access to my ear.

He had a hand on my belly and it was stroking lower and lower, teasing its way down to the waistband of my jeans.

"Fuck you're hot," He growled. "I get off on those little noises you make."

He bit into my neck and I moaned. His fingers fumbled with my belt buckle and I actually gasped out his name in delight. I couldn't get enough of his hands and mouth on me, I always needed more... My dick was throbbing and straining against my jeans and I was aching with the need for Damien to touch it.

Damien unzipped my fly with one hand and I quickly wriggled out from beneath him so I could pull off my jeans and boxers. I heard Damien doing the same, and I actually gasped when I looked up at his naked body sprawled on the bed beside me. His tattoos looked so great, rippling across his chest and belly. Even with all the bruises and little patches of scabs, he looked amazing. 

But my eyes kept getting drawn back to his dick. That heavy club of flesh, hard and thick and jutting out of his hips. The foreskin was tight and pulled back to show a little circle of dark skin at the head. I could see pre-cum dribbling down onto the bed. He was so aroused. I imagined what that dick would feel like inside me. The thought nearly made me faint.

And the best part was, he was looking at me with as much awe as I was feeling for him. 

"I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard," He whispered as he gazed down at my rock-hard dick. I blushed. I didn't need to say anything because Damien reached out and grabbed my head with both his hands. He pulled me into a kiss hard enough that our teeth were pushing against our lips and it was hard to get a breath. His lip ring slid around between us and, although I knew the irritation wouldn't help the healing process, I was still so turned on by it.

Damien kept a hand in the short hair at the back of my neck. He dropped the other hand to my side and stroked my skin, let his mouth leave mine and trail along my neck. He'd bite sharply then suck at the sensitive skin he'd bitten. My eyes fluttered shut and my head tilted back as I groaned and gave myself over to his expert touch.

I longed for Damien to touch my dick, but instead he ran his fingers over my hip and along around my body to my butt. When his calloused fingers slid between my cheeks I whimpered and froze, my eyes flying open. 

Damien stopped moving, his hand lying still on my skin as he seemed to pause to listen to my breathing. My mind was swirling -- I thought I knew where this was leading, was I ready?

But I felt only a little fear. Thinking back to how I'd felt when Pete had touched me, when he had tried to force me to have sex with him, I remembered my horror and revulsion. But here with Damien I was feeling aroused and content, wrapped up in warm feelings. I wanted this, I realised. I really, really wanted this.

I closed my eyes again and nuzzled into Damien's collar bone, clutching at his warm body and hoping he'd know that he had my permission without me having to tell him. He seemed to get the message, he kissed me lightly on the head then wiggled his big body down so his dick was rubbing up against mine.

I gasped at the feel of his hot column of flesh rubbing against mine. Damien bucked his hips gently so his dick slid along mine and I nearly fainted from the sexiness of it. I was rubbing by dick against another guy's! I could barely breathe and my heart was pounding so fast I was feeling dizzy.

His fingers slid into my butt crack again and this time I wasn't scared. His lips were on me, his dick was rubbing against mine... I felt limp, like I was a rag doll completely at Damien's disposal. When his slowly-stroking fingers found my hole, my head shot back in the shock of warm feelings. I moaned and felt Damien grinning against my neck.

He toyed with my hole, his finger circling then teasing its way in slightly. I could feel my dick throbbing, jerking up and down against Damien's. He was driving me crazy, my mind swirled as all I could think about was his fingers and the sensations they were giving me.

Suddenly he pulled away, rolling onto his back. I felt cold and abruptly lonely and I snapped my eyes open in fear. 

But Damien was just reaching into a box on his bedside table, pulling out a small bottle of lube and -- my heart seemed to skip a beat -- a condom. He left the condom on the bedside and I stared at it, trying to focus my thoughts, until I felt Damien's hand back at my butt, this time sticky and wet from the lube.

He shifted position so he was again on his side facing me, his dick rubbing up against mine. He had one hand under his body and he grabbed our dicks in it, his fingers closing around both columns of flesh and starting to slowly jerk up and down. It was intense. I could feel every inch of his hot skin against me.

Damien's slippery fingers teased my hole. I moaned and tilted my hips back, trying to get Damien to push in deeper. He laughed and his warm breath tickled across my cheek, making shivers run down my spine.

"You want me, don't you?" He whispered against my throat. "You can't wait to feel me inside you."

I whimpered and jerked my head in a nod. Damien pushed a finger in just enough to make my sphincter muscles spasm. His hand on my dick moved faster and it felt like all the blood in my body had been drained down to my dick and my ass, like there was no life in any other part of me.

"You fucking love it," He growled and I whimpered and nodded.

He slid his finger in deeper. It was a good kind of uncomfortable -- I'd put my own finger inside myself when I masturbated, but obviously my fingers weren't as long or thick as Damien's. He pushed in deeper and I felt a sharp sting and couldn't help drawing in a quick breath of pain.

Damien pulled away to lube up his fingers again. He kept squeezing our dicks together, controlling the bottle of lube expertly with only one hand.

This time he slid his finger in so deep I felt the palm of his hand pressing against my cheek. His finger felt good in there, wet and smooth and so filling. I wiggled my hips experimentally and enjoyed the warmth and fullness radiating from Damien's touch.

He moved his face back to mine and pressed his lips against me in a loose wet kiss. I savoured the feel of his lips, so soft but insistent. He sucked my tongue into his mouth and caressed it with his own and I lost track of everything but that kiss, the sweet intensity of it.

Damien bit gently down on my tongue, making me moan. He seemed to be trying to distract me because the next thing I knew, he was slipping another well-lubed finger inside me. It felt full and warm but wasn't hurting too bad, and after some more kissing Damien pulled away to re-lubricate his hand before sliding three fingers into me.

This time it hurt. I froze and Damien stayed still. 

"It's okay," He whispered and kissed me again, slowly and sensually. He held his hand completely still and I waited as the pain -- and my panic -- subsided and was replaced by just the warm pleasure again.

Damien slid his fingers further inside me, until it felt like I was stuffed full of him. Like his body on me and his dick against mine and his fingers in me had me completely wrapped up in him. I glanced down at his cock, hard and rubbing against my own, and wondered if his three fingers were big enough to prepare me for it. I blushed at the thought, but felt a tingling rush of excitement too.

My whole body seemed to be pulsing in time with the small movements of his fingers as he pushed them deeper into me. He started gently wiggling his fingers, spreading them out and stroking my insides. This felt better than it ever did when I masturbated, better than I ever thought I could feel. I moaned out Damien's name. "Damien, it feels so good..."

Then he touched my prostate, a hard press with one of his fingers and a shot of pure pleasure which made my whole body tense up. "Holy fuck," I cried out. "Holy fuck, Damien!"

He grinned and twisted his fingers so he could stroke over my prostate again. I cried out and felt my dick jerking. I looked down and saw that I was leaking, huge dollops of pre-cum sliding out of my dick and pooling on Damien's dick and the bed sheets. When he rubbed his dick up against mine, it spread the pre-cum around so he was slowly coating himself in my fluid.

He started sliding his fingers up and down a little, so it always felt full but now felt like there was different amounts of pressure on my opening. He kept hitting my prostate and I kept leaking precum all over him. I could feel my orgasm building, the feelings were just too intense. His hands were so hot inside me and every time he stroked my secret place I felt a blinding rush of pleasure through me.

"You really enjoy this, don't you?" Damien asked. There was wonder in his voice, and so much arousal that his tone came out husky.

"Yeah," I gasped. "Don't stop, I'm so close..."

But Damien did stop, his hand pausing while still inside me so I moaned and rubbed myself against him, trying to get back the intense pleasure of the prostate stimulation.

"I want to try it," Damien said.

"What?" I wasn't really aware of what he was saying, I just wanted the pleasure to continue.

"You love it so much, I want to try it too," He said again. Now he was pulling his fingers out of me and dropping my dick into its puddle of sticky goo on the sheets.

"Damien, come back," I whimpered, far past caring if I sounded weak for begging.

Damien got up on his knees, his dick bouncing up against his belly then hovering obscenely out in the air. He grabbed the hand which had been lying limply at my side. I stared in surprise as he started dripping lube onto it from his little bottle. It was cold, much colder than I was expecting.

"Rub your fingers together, like you're counting cash," He said. I mimicked the motion and felt the sticky wet gel warming up on my hand.

Damien lay down beside me again, wiggling closer so his body was pressed up against mine. We were chest-to-chest, our dicks sliding against each other's hips. I looked down and saw his nipple piercing pressing against the dark skin of my chest and the sight made me moan.

Damien rested a foot on the bed so his leg was bent at the knee. "Give me your hand," He instructed, and guided me behind his furry balls to his secret entrance. I gasped when I felt the hot puckered skin there.

"Damien..." I whispered, meeting his eyes. He stared back at me steadily, nothing but desire in his face. I remembered what Pete had said, how he didn't want to feel gay by letting me touch him. And Damien was even manlier than Pete...

"I want to feel what you're feeling," He whispered. "You're so turned on, I want to know what it's like."

He tilted his head so he was whispering in my ear and added, "And if you ever tell my friends about this, I'll fucking kill you." He nipped the side of my stretched lobe to show he was kidding.

And then he grabbed my hand by the knuckles and forced two of my fingers inside him.

Holy crap. My fingers were inside Damien's ass. I started hyperventilating, staring at the point where I saw my hand disappearing behind his balls. "This..." I choked out. "This is too hot."




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 03



Damien was screwing his face up in concentration. "It feels kind of funny."

"Um, it gets better," I told him, looking anxiously down at him. I slid my fingers in deeper, feeling around. I figured I'd know when I hit the right spot, because it would be obvious in Damien's reaction.

Damien put his own freshly lubed hand back to my ass and slid his fingers in -- I was still so wet, his three fingers slid in easily and I couldn't help but moan at the glorious fullness I felt with him inside me. 

I pushed my own fingers deeper into him, determined to make Damien feel as great as he was making me. It was hard, he was tight and it felt like his entrance was trying to push me out. "Just relax," I muttered. Damien grumbled something under his breath, I didn't hear it but it was probably expressing just how he felt about me trying to give him orders.

And then, suddenly, I felt it. I was running my fingertip along soft squishy wall inside him and I felt an area which definitely felt different. There was a different texture there. I pressed down with my fingertip and Damien gasped. His body went rigid and his dick jerked against mine.

"Holy shit. Holy shit, Elijah, do that again," He panted. "Oh shit, I never knew..." He wiggled his fingers inside me and I felt that same lightning bolt of arousal he must be feeling right now. 

I stroked my fingers inside him and he stroked his inside me, it was ecstasy. He had a hand clasped around our dicks and was squeezing slowly, it seemed nearly involuntary -- Damien was giving into the pleasure just like I was, letting ourselves enjoy the intense sensations while our dicks dripped precum onto each other.

"Oh fuck Elijah," Damien moaned. His face was contorted into such pleasure it looked like pain. "Eli, I have to have you... Please..."

"Anything," I said. And I meant it. I wanted to give him anything and everything he wanted. Not just in this aroused moment, but forever. Whenever he wanted, I was his.

Damien groaned deeply and pulled his fingers out of me. I did the same and he clambered up onto his knees again, reaching for the condom he'd left on the bedside. I wasn't sure what to do, if there was some position I should get into, so I stayed where I was on my side with my cock sticking out at an angle and steadily dripping precum onto the bed. Watching Damien slide a condom onto his dick was so hot, I stroked my own and enjoyed the shivers of sensation that even a light touch could give to my over-sensitive organ.

Damien poured lube onto the tip of his dick and rubbed it around the surface of the condom. It pooled and stuck on the rubbery surface and I watched in fascination. Soon, that would be inside me.

"I want to look at you while I fuck you," Damien growled. I shivered and nodded my head jerkily. 

Damien nudged me onto my back and got between my legs. He seemed nervous and a bit unsure and that made it even hotter --like maybe he wasn't used to looking at guys during sex but he really wanted to look at me. He paused to gaze down at me at I took the chance to stare at him -- he was impossibly hot, crouching over me with his tattoos blazing and his hard condom-sheathed dick pulsing in the air. His shaven head, his lip ring, his stretched ears... He was perfect. My own dick was sticking out, seeming to reach out toward him.

Damien crawled forward until he was right over me, his hands on either side of my torso. He leaned down so his lips could press against mine in a hard, deep kiss that left me breathless. I was still reeling from the kiss when he grabbed my knees and spread them, so my legs were split with his body resting between them.

He grabbed onto my achingly hard dick and tugged on it for a few moments. I moaned out in pleasure and writhed, wanting more. With the other hand, the lubed, dripping wet hand, he rimmed my butt then slowly slid a finger inside me. I was still wet and wanting, so he lined up the head of his cock and shifted his weight to his hands which were placed on either side of my chest, and slowly pushed in.

There was an intense pressure, like a heavy blunt weight pushing against me. Then he seemed to find the right angle and his dick suddenly popped in, the whole head pushing past my first ring of defence and sliding on inside my wet hole. "Oh, fuck, yeah," Damien groaned. "You're so tight Elijah, you're so fucking tight... I hope this doesn't hurt, you must be used to stretching things by now..."

I didn't have any breath left to return the joke, every part of me was completely focused on that big dick sliding inside of me, on that intense feeling of fullness. 

"Oh my god..." I groaned. This felt better than my fingers ever had. The whole world was reduced down to this one sensation, the satisfaction of that dick sliding into me. I forced my eyes open so I could look down at it -- my own dick weeping precum, my balls pulled up tight, and behind the glorious sight of Damien's thick sheathed dick disappearing into me. "Oh, my god..."

Damien pushed in a little deeper -- it slid less easily now, he was thicker than three fingers and even with all the lube there was some resistance. I felt sudden sharp pain and gasped, Damien stopped moving and looked up into my eyes. In that moment I felt like all pain had disappeared, like I could never hurt again -- there was so much love and wonder in his eyes I was overwhelmed by it. I knew this wasn't his first time but suddenly I believed it was as special to him as it was to me.

Damien stayed there, his body leaning over mine, his tattoos flexing on his heaving chest, staring into my eyes while he tried to keep his dick completely still in me.

I knew my feelings must be obvious in my eyes but I didn't try to hide it. I kind of hoped Damien would see and understand how special this was to me. I smiled up at him and whispered, "I'm ready."

"Fuck yeah," He muttered and leaned forward so his dick would slide further in to me.

It hurt. It really did. But as Damien's dick slid deeper and deeper into me, as his balls finally came to rest against my butt crack and his contented gasp let me know he was all the way in, I was able to focus in on the pleasure of it. I could push the pain aside and just think about his dick in me -- his dick in me! -- and focus on how good the pressure felt inside me. It was a lot like stretching my ears -- after the initial pain there was that hyperawareness of the area, like I was just a bundle of nerve endings.

Damien was breathing heavy. He was hovering above me, dick inside me, just letting me get used to it. I met his intense blue eyes and saw the need there, he wanted this even more desperately than I did. It still hurt a bit but I wanted it real bad.

"I'm ready," I whispered again. 

Damien groaned in arousal and stared down at me, like he was frozen in place by his desire and not ready to act on it. Then finally he started moving -- a slow and uncomfortable slide out and then back in again. 

I was breathing deeply, trying to deal with the discomfort but mainly trying to breathe in as much Damien smell as possible. He was so close. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders so I could feel like I was surrounded by him. 

And then Damien made a weird noise in his throat and he dropped himself down on top of me -- not so all his weight was on me, but enough that I could definitely feel the bulk of him. It felt fantastic, I was suddenly intoxicated by his smell and heat and nearness, I could run my hands all over his body and he was kissing my neck and I was kissing the tops of his shoulders where I could feel soft little hairs.

And then he started moving. Not sliding in and out, just sort of shifting his hips so his dick wiggled inside of me. I cried out and my back arched up, pushing my chest into him. I just felt gloriously full -- totally stuffed full with cock. 

"You like that?" Damien rasped into my ear. I could only whimper in response. He rubbed his dick around inside me a bit more and it tapped against my prostate. 

"Oh my God," I cried out. "Oh God... Again, oh please do that again."

I could feel him grinning against my neck as he wiggled his hips around and hit my prostate again. "Oh God, yes please," I whimpered. My erection had gone down a bit from my nerves but now it surged back to full size, squashed between us so every movement of Damien's body was rubbing his hairy belly against it. 

I felt dizzy with the emotions, with the surge of feelings and sensations. I wasn't going to last long. Damien hit my prostate again and again and it was all I could do to just clutch his tattooed back and whimper in pleasure. My dick was leaking all over my stomach, and the goo just made the friction even sweeter.

"Damien," I whispered. "I'm really close."

He grunted and started moving faster. I could hear his heavy ragged breathing against my neck and I hoped it meant he was as close as I was. 

It was getting all too much. His weight against me, that musky man smell, his dick filling me up and sliding over my prostate so I was constantly jolted with pleasure. It was all just too much.

I came with a whimper, my back arching up and my chest smacking hard into sweaty Damien. "Oh god oh god oh god oh god," I panted as the orgasm ripped through me and I felt my semen splashing over us. My ass muscles were clenching up and it made Damien feel like he was swelling and pulsing inside me.

Or maybe he actually was pulsing inside me. As I came he pulled his head back so he could look into my face, then suddenly his body went stiff and he jerked his hips a couple more times before bellowing out like a bull. He collapsed on top of me and I wrapped my arms around him, completely amazed that we'd just made each other cum.

"Holy shit," He moaned when he got some of his breath back. "That was amazing."

Finally his dick slid out of me, it felt like I was losing a part of me. Damien tied up the condom and tossed it into the plastic bag he was using as a bin.

"Shower?" I quizzed. I was covered in my semen and a layer of his sweat and my butt felt sticky with lube.

"Do we have to?" Damien asked innocently, pulling me against him so his big body was spooned around me.

I snickered, "Gross. You're a caveman."

He grunted and gently kissed my neck, right behind my stretched lobe. "How did that feel? I didn't hurt you?"

"No, it felt great."

"Good," There was gloating in his voice as he pulled the blankets up over our sweaty sticky bodies. "Because I'm going to want a lot more of that."

I went back to work. My bruises were healed enough that I didn't get too many stares, and my nerves were back in place so I could hold a needle steady. I didn't want to go back to my crappy flat, not after the weeks in my happy Damien bubble. And it turned out I barely had to -- Damien was calling me every day on his lunch break and invited me to stay the night every single night so I never actually slept over at my flat.

On Friday he wanted me to go to a show with him, one on the other side of the bridge. I was nervous -- I'd only ever been to straight-edge shows where everyone said the other scene was for druggies and racists and people who fought over nothing. 

But we went. Damien got me to dress up in some of his old clothes. It was worth it just to have him undress me, taking his time running his calloused hands over my bared flesh and kissing me all over. I wanted to stay like that all night, just be alone with him, but he really wanted to go to the show.

Finally he dressed me in cut-off jeans and a band tee, both skin tight. I was barely dressed at all, the bathroom mirror showed my nipples visible through the tee and the jeans clinging to every curve of my body. Damien refused to let me wear underwear, insisting I go commando like he did. You could basically see my dick in these jeans.

"I can't go out like this," I moaned. "I look like a slut."

"You look like my slut," Damien growled. He looked just like he had the first night I'd seen him -- tight bleached jeans with frayed knees stuffed into black Docs, a ratty white wifebeater and heavy jacket. He looked just as ridiculously hot as that first night, meeting his unnaturally blue eyes in the mirror made my stomach jolt. 

He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. He started rubbing his hips up against me and I could feel his hard dick against me. My own started swelling in response and I stared in horror as the outline of my growing erection became visible in the mirror.

"We're going to have a great night Elijah. The music always makes me horny."

I moaned. 

We caught a bus to the show. It took forty minutes and I was totally lost after the first ten -- I didn't go across the bridge often. The street we got off at was dirty but lively, there were a couple sex shops but it definitely wasn't lined by druggies like I'd feared.

Damien casually held my hand while we walked. It shocked me at first and my body language must have reflected that -- Damien looked across at me and winked, then curled his lip to show off the 'FAG' tattoo.

We stood on the street while he smoked a furious cigarette then he lead me into a sort of pizza place with people standing around tables drinking beer and eating pizza. It seemed a weird place to have a show but I didn't say anything. Damien spotted his friends and they waved us over.

"Elijah, good to see you man," Called out the guy with the red mohawk that I'd met once by Damien's place. I grinned nervously and he slapped me on the back. 

"You remember Baz, Scaz and Toss?" Damien asked me after he finished fist-pumping his friends. I told him yeah, but I was just as confused as the first time I'd met them.

We ate giant slices of greasy pizza and drank from cans. I didn't have much to say but the guys seemed to totally accept me. It was weird. Damien had a protective arm around my neck the whole time and when I spilled some cheese on my face he leaned down to lick it off me. Right there in front of everyone. And no-one cared, no-one even made a gagging noise. It's like they really genuinely didn't mind that he was gay.

It was so crazy, the opposite of what I had expected from guys from the wrong side of the bridge. And, to be honest, the opposite of what I'd expect from the guys in my scene.

It turned out the show was held at a place right next door to the pizza place. 

The bar was different to the venues I was used to, normally you could mill around and talk to each other outside. Here everyone was standing around inside in semi-darkness. The place seemed full with the buzz of talk and laughter. 

I hung back with Damien and his friends. He bought another beer and kept his hands on me; an arm over the shoulders, a hand on the lower back, protective and territorial. I liked it.

When the band finally came on I realised the bass was really loud in this venue, so much so that I could feel the walls and the floor shaking under me. 

The crowd solidified and moved toward the stage in a way I was familiar with. Damien lead me to close to the stage but off to the right, by one of the speakers but slightly behind it so the full force of its sound blast was directed away from us. He stood behind me and pulled me up to rest my back against him, his head resting on top of mine. I leaned in against him and smelled his manly smoke and grease smell.

We stayed there for the whole set, watching the crowd from our comfortable vantage point. The only time we'd move was when Damien would raise his beer to his lips.

When the second act came on Damien pulled me back to the same place by the stage and pulled me in against him. This time he started rubbing his hips gently up against me, letting me feel his dick against me. I could feel myself swelling and started getting nervous, knowing my dick was probably starting to show. I just hoped no-one looked my way.

After a couple songs, Damien grabbed my hand and pressed it against his hard dick. I gasped. I looked around. No-one was watching us, all eyes were on the stage. Still, there were people on either side and to the front, barely a foot of distance between us and the next person. If any of them, hell, if anyone; turned to look they would see what we were doing. What I was doing.

But it felt good, having Damien's dick in my hand, even if it was through the worn denim of his jeans. I squeezed his cock and he grunted and lowered his lips to my neck so he could nip at my earlobe.

I rubbed and squeezed his dick all the way through the act, getting bolder with arousal and the fact no-one had caught us. I didn't want to peel myself away from him when the music finished, but when we were back with his friends Damien pulled me in against him again. His chest was so warm against my back and I could feel his hard dick pushing against my butt. I wondered if my own erection was too obvious. 

"You gonna dance tonight?" Bazz asked Damien.

"Nah, think I'll sit this one out."

He squeezed my shoulder when he said it. It was obvious that Damien was normally a lot more fun for his friends than he was tonight.

"You can dance if you want to, you know," I said to him quietly when the next set were starting up and people were moving toward the stage to watch.

"Nah, I have better plans, much more fun things to do," He with a wink.

I swallowed. The look in his eyes was intense with desire. He lead me by the hand back to our spot behind the speaker and I followed.

The band started up and Damien pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my neck and chest and resting his head on my shoulder.. I moaned as his hard muscular body pushed up behind mine and I felt his dick there, still hard.

"You get me so worked up Elijah," He whispered. "I'm so fucking hard for you. I want to take you right here. You'd love that, wouldn't you? You want my cock in you?"

I whimpered and nodded my head jerkily. My dick was fully hard.

"You want to feel my dick deep in you," He purred into my ear. I was shaking with desire and the room full of people seemed to be blurring as my eyes slid in and out of focus. 

Damien kept an arm around my chest, supporting me and holding me captive. The other hand, the one closest to the speaker and hidden in its shadow so it probably wasn't visible to a casual viewer, slipped down to start kneading my butt check. 

I moaned and pushed back against him and Damien growled in appreciation. When he thrust his hips against me I could feel his erection sliding between my cheeks in these skintight jeans. I was so hard I was starting to ache, pressed up against the denim. I was sure my pre-cum would be forming a dark patch on my jeans.

I had my eyes half open and I could see the fight pit forming, Damien's friends getting in there and throwing punches. It was kind of scary, they were a lot more aggressive than what I was used to from the shows back home where you always knew that if you fell someone would pick you back up.

There were people around us but no-one behind, we were close to the side wall. But everyone's eyes were on the stage and the pit, everyone was bobbing their head or getting into the music and no-one seemed to notice as Damien reached around my front and unbuttoned my jeans, zipped the fly partway down. 

I was so aroused I was having trouble breathing. I just stood there, staring at the dim crowded room as Damien carefully tugged the waistband of my jeans so they slid down at the back, completely baring my ass. I tugged at my tee shirt to try and cover myself up a bit but it was no use. With my fly unzipped like this, my pubic bush and a line of bare skin was clearly visible to anyone who might happen to look. Not to mention the outline of my dick, fully hard and dripping inside my tight jeans. 

I started trembling. Damien kissed my neck and rubbed his jean-clad dick over my bare exposed ass. The friction made me groan aloud in desire. I couldn't help it, I started jerking my hips to try and get more of his dick against me.




Wrong Side of the Bridge Ch. 03



Damien chuckled. "You love it, don't you? You love the feel of my big cock, you can't get enough of it. You want me to take you right here and now."

I moaned and shuddered, my hand moving behind me to try and grope at Damien's belt and get it open. He laughed hard then unclipped his belt, and I heard the sounds of his jeans button popping and his zip going down. He guided my hand and I felt his meaty cock sticking out of the fly of his jeans. I groaned and nearly creamed my pants right then and there. I was clutching onto Damien's cock, right here in public. It had been hot enough rubbing him through his jeans, but this? Just too much.

"I'm going to fuck you right here," He whispered into my ear. "I'm going to punish that hot ass of yours with my big dick."

I whimpered and jerked his dick a little faster. I kept my eyes looking forward, making sure no-one was looking in our direction.

Damien pulled away from me for a few moments and I felt his absence as intense cold on my back and ass. But then he was back, arm around me and hand rubbing at my ass all wet and dripping. I realised he must have brought some lube with him -- he'd planned for this, and come prepared. He really had been serious when he said the music got him aroused.

He ran his lubey fingers along my crack and toyed with my rim, teasing little sighs and moans out of me. When I was so aroused I was nearly begging for it, he slid his fat finger inside me, all at once, and started wiggling it against my prostrate.

I nearly cried out at the intense pleasure, I had to bite my lip to keep the noise in. The guy in front glanced around at my face but looked away again.

"You're so loud when you're needy," Damien muttered into my ear. He sucked on my earlobe, his teeth gently teasing the thin rim of skin around my silicone tunnel.

His finger kept moving inside me, scraping along my insides and drawing more and more intense shudders of pleasure. Then he started stretching me, pulling his finger out so he could dip back in at my entrance with two fingers then three, slowly stretching my opening while paying attention to my prostrate and sucking at my neck.

It got so I could barely stand, I was feeling weak at the knees and so desperate to feel his dick in me, the need was nearly overwhelming. I was moving my hips, trying to get more of his fingers deeper inside me. Damien was making soft little grunts as he nuzzled against my neck, clearly as aroused by this as I was.

"Take my cock, Elijah," He whispered as he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around his cock, sheathed in a condom and feeling rubbery and slimy. "Slide it inside you," He ordered breathily. "Make me fuck you."

I moaned and did what he said. He pulled his fingers out of my ass and I positioned his dick at my entrance, I had to angle my hips slightly because he was so much taller than me. And then his cock head was there, sitting snug against me, and I pushed my hips back so it would slide inside and I could feel his delicious warmth, the fullness of having his dick in me.

I didn't want to wait, I was too turned on. I just kept pushing backward so more and more of his dick was inside me. He had done a good job of stretching and lubing me, there was hardly any pain. When I felt his pubic bush brushing against my butt I started shifting from side to side so his dick would rub against my prostate. 

Damien clamped both his arms around me, one around my chest and the other across my belly and hips. He pulled me against him so every bit of my back was pressed into him, and he started rocking his hips back and forward to drive is dick into me. 

I was panting hard, thrashing back and forward with his motion, gripping onto his arms so tightly. I was barely aware of the crowd around me, of the loud pumping music and the bass shaking the whole room. If anyone looked around, they would have seen me being furiously fucked with my own dick nearly bursting out of my jeans in arousal.

Damien kept up a relentless pace, until I was shaking and trembling and whimpering incoherently. Then he slipped his hand down the front of my jeans, right there where anyone could see, and grabbed me firmly in his calloused hand. That was all it took, I was already too aroused. Lights popped behind my eyes and I went momentarily deaf. I cried out and my body convulsed, my back arched and my butt drove harder against Damien as I came all through the inside of my jeans. I felt Damien's body go stiff behind me as my ass contracted and milked him into his own orgasm.

He zipped me up first, then stuffed himself back into his jeans. I could hear his panting breath but I myself could barely stand. That was just too hot and intense.

Damien held me against him and kissed my neck as we came down and the band finished their set.

Damien's friends seemed to realise something was up. I must have looked shell-shocked and shaky after the great public sex and intense orgasm, because Baz looked from me to Damien then shook his head andsaid, "Nasty bro." Damien grinned.

Damien held me through the last set and held my hand the whole bus home. He even took his cool jacket off and draped it over my shoulders so I wouldn't be cold. I didn't object - it meant I could check out his hot toned arms with all the tattoos.

As the bus approached the stop near his house Damien whispered, "Stay the night with me, let's see if I can't make you cum again."

I grinned.

I was pretty sure I was falling in love with Damien. I thought about him all the time, and all I wanted to do was be around him always. He seemed to want me around a lot too, and when he looked at me he seemed genuinely caring. He never said anything, and I just hoped he was feeling even half of what I was. 

Damien bought us tickets to see one of the big hardcore bands. I didn't really like them but they were one of his favourites. I was nervous about going because it was a combined gig so all my old friends would be there. I hadn't seen any of them since my falling out with Pete. I also was really afraid that Pete would be there. I didn't want to talk to him, and I didn't want anyone to bully me.

I got nervous as we approached the venue. Damien was holding my hand like usual. As we reached the intersection before the venue, I tried to surreptitiously slip my hand out of Damien's. He held on to it tighter. 

I looked up at him and he had his jaw set, his dark eyebrows low and scowling over those intense eyes. He looked down at me. "You will never be ashamed of what we've got together," He growled, and I nodded meekly. I drew in a deep breath. He was right. I shouldn't be ashamed. 

Baz called out to us from a group by the door and we went to join them. A whole bunch of Damien's mates were there, smoking and passing around a bottle of Smirnoff. Damien pulled one of his smokes out and lit up, took a chug of the bottle and passed it right by me to Toss on my other side. No-one even tried to pressure me to have a drink.

Someone pulled out a hacky and we started playing, I wasn't very co-ordinated but Damien was really good. I saw Pete and a bunch of my other friends walk past. Pete was looking right at me, frowning. I tried to ignore it.

The bands started up and we went in. Damien pulled me off to the side like last time, there was more of a crowd in this big venue so we were right up against a wall to be out of the way. I nodded along to the music, feeling safe and warm in Damien's muscled arms. The opening band was really good, I love when we get international shows because you can expect such a high quality of music.

After the set I went off to the toilet and Damien said he was going outside to have a drink with his buddies -- the venue was strictly all ages so you had to go outside to drink. 

I went into the cubicle of the bathroom, like always. I'm afraid of being made fun of by other guys. I was cleaning up when I heard two guys at the urinal talking. "You see the fags?" One said. The other replied and made a joke which I didn't hear, but I knew it was a joke because his friend laughed derisively. I felt sick. They must have been talking about me and Damien. 

I waited until they left before I could leave. I was already feeling humiliated, so when I opened the door out of the men's room and walked right into Pete, I was not in the best mood.

"Hey," He said in surprise. Then he glared at me, as if remembering something. "What's the deal with you and that guy Damien?"

Pete had been my friend for years, but the hurt of him lying to me and cheating on me was still fresh enough that I didn't hesitate to snap back, "None of your business."

He sneered. "Whatever, I don't care. I'm just felt sorry for you being with a piece of trash like him."

"He's twice the man you'll ever be," I felt myself getting really angry, having Pete here acting like he was all cool and looking out for me. "He doesn't pretend to be straight like you do."

Pete went white at that. Maybe it was because there were people around and he was afraid they'd hear me. When I glanced to the side I saw a small crowd of people looking interested -- Pete's band were amongst them, they were glaring at me like I was good for nothing. What had Pete told them about me? Had it made them forget that we used to be friends?

Pete stepped forward and grabbed me by the collar, his eyes narrowing. I gaped. Holy crap, he was going to hit me?

"I only let you touch me because I felt sorry for you," He hissed. I was aware of how much bigger than me he was, how much stronger. "You were lucky to have me."

I tried to pull his hands off my collar but he was too strong for me. Pete's drummer Skeeta stepped forward but he was glaring at me like he was getting ready to back Pete up.

Then suddenly Damien was there. He burst through the crowd running, shoving people out of his way. He punched Pete right in the jaw without a moment's hesitation, then shoved him hard into the wall.

"Don't you ever lay a hand on my boy again," He shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. I glanced around. People were staring. If they didn't know us as 'the fags' yet, the sure would now.

"Let him go, Damien," I said quietly. Damien glared at Pete a few seconds more and then stepped away, letting go of him so he slumped back against the wall.

I followed him outside, through the silent crowd. I remembered how I'd first met Damien, months ago. How then it had been Pete defending me from him and not the other way around.

We didn't say anything until we heard the next band starting up and Damien went to head back in.

"I don't know if I want to go back in," I told him quietly. 

He paused for a few moments, looking at me. Then he said, "I can fuck you right there in front of them, prove to those kids that-"

"I don't want to prove anything to them," I cut in. He'd made me a little hard just talking about fucking. "They're not worth the effort."

Damien looked down at me with his intense blue eyes, then he grinned. "You're right, they don't deserve to see you anyway."

He leaned down to kiss me. "Come home with me," He whispered. "I'll fuck you listening to the CD. It will be even better because we won't have to stop when the music does."

I grinned. "I love you," I said, without even thinking. 

Damien froze for a second, looking down at me. Then he quietly said, "I love you too, Elijah." 

He took my hand and lead me away.

As we walked, I thought of how hard I'd tried to fit in with those guys. And how none of it mattered anyway, because they were just going to freak out and hate me for things I couldn't change. But with Damien and his friends I never had to pretend. 

That night as Damien spooned up behind me in his narrow single bed he whispered in my ear, "Move in with me."

I nodded and then, not sure if he could feel the movement of my head, said it aloud -- "Yes".

He kissed me.