Bare (adj.): Exposed to view, undisguised
I watched him for weeks, and I don't just mean watched. I pretty much stalked him. Every movement, every moment. I was fairly aware of him, always, anyway; that's the nature of sentinel senses. This went beyond that. I knew that every third day he drank peppermint tea with breakfast, and every Thursday he ate two cheeseburgers for lunch. I knew when he jerked off in the shower, and the days he jerked off in bed, instead. I knew he would type four pages, get up for a drink, type another few pages, get up and stretch. When he read, he scratched behind his left ear with the pencil he always had in his hand. It got to the point where I could look at him and just know he was going to wear a certain shirt with certain pants. I'm not sure why he didn't notice my surveillance, unless he had, and was simply ignoring me. I wasn't malicious or intimidating about it. Just persistent. I always needed to know where he was going and what he was doing, which isn't a good thing for any healthy relationship, especially friendship.
Except I didn't want just friendship any longer.
I'm not sure when I started wanting more from him. It was a casual, slow-building thing. I was certain he was aware of it as well; some days the vibes between us were strong enough that I would catch him watching me, a speculative look in his eyes. He didn't make any moves, though, just watched me. I didn't detect other reactions, either. Just that increased sense of awareness between us. I could touch him and there'd be a bit more current than the time before. Another day, and his eyes would seem just a little brighter, a little more electric, and I wanted that electricity turned toward me. I found myself looking for ways to generate even more spark, even more electricity. I would hover a little more into his personal space, or touch him needlessly to get his attention. I lingered near the bathroom door while he showered, waiting to hear the increase in his breathing, the pounding of his heart as blood flowed through him as he jacked off. I dried myself off with his towels after my own showers, wanting to wrap his scent and warmth around me. Once, I lay in his bed and rubbed myself against his sheets till I came, my nose buried in his pillow, breathing in his scent.
It became obsession. I wanted to feel his heat, his strength, his vitality as I sucked him dry, or he fucked me raw.
My cock throbbed in my pants with those thoughts, with the images that filled my mind along with them. I could picture my hands tangled in his hair, holding his head for my kiss, tasting him, scenting him, feeling him. On some levels I already knew how Sandburg tasted and smelled; I could hardly live in the close quarters I did with him and not know.
I wanted the deeper, more intimate, layered sensations. I knew what his semen smelled like; the scent permeated the loft any time he jerked off. I wanted the taste of it on my lips, on my tongue. I wanted to feel it, thick and warm and creamy on my skin. I wanted to feel his body, hard and warm on mine when he covered me. I wanted to hear his voice, rough with passion, with need, calling my name when he came.
God, I could hear my groan echoing through the empty loft. I looked at my watch. Five minutes since Sandburg had left. Time to get going. I knew where he'd be, but I didn't want him too far ahead of me. Did I want to give him long enough to pick someone up? Did I want to watch? Again? I shuddered at the memory of two nights ago, watching my partner down on his knees, servicing some huge guy with a dick like a stallion, then forcing that same man to his knees so he could fuck him. What I felt for him then transcended lust. It was a hunger so deep, so dark, it was overpowering. I wanted to be the one on my knees.
It's an odd dichotomy, these feelings. I love him. I have for a while. Sandburg makes me feel and think things I've never experienced before-and not just because of our connection from the sentinel thing. But sometimes the other emotions get shadowed, clouded over, by more simplistic needs. Like sex. Not just sex but sex. Rough, hard, full of primal need. The kind that you exchange with an anonymous face in a dark place.
Tonight I was going to be that anonymous face in that dark place. By the time he realized it was me, he would be mine. Everything, everyone before tonight was his business. After tonight, there wouldn't be anyone else. He's mine. And I don't share.
I checked my pocket for condoms, then shrugged my jacket on and headed out the door. My cock was already hard with anticipation; I could practically taste my own excitement.
It was only a quick drive to the park; maybe ten minutes. I parked the truck around the corner from my destination, then walked the remaining distance, my entire body tense with anticipation. This wasn't my first trip here, obviously; I'd been watching Sandburg for a while now. But tonight would be my first time as -- a true participant.
v v v v v v
Not long after I jerked off in Sandburg's bed, I scented someone unfamiliar in the loft. At least, I'd scented his sweat, his semen, and the staleness of his cologne and cigarettes. The scent was so strong, clinging to the air, I'd nearly drawn a gun on Sandburg, trying to figure out who I was smelling, certain there was an intruder in the loft.
It wasn't until my partner was looking at me like I'd lost my marbles, that I realized I wasn't smelling an actual person, but the remains of an encounter left behind on Sandburg.
Was he dating, or was it just sex? An anonymous grope somewhere, to relieve pressure?
It happened again, not long after that, and my frustration began to mount. I'd wanted him for a long time, wanted to take our friendship further, ask for and receive more from him. I was home, feeling like an alcoholic denied a drink, wanting him so bad my teeth hurt at times, and he was out picking up... who? Strangers? People he knew? I knew it was a different guy, because he smelled different from the first. Semen might smell like semen to the average person; the same with sweat. But to me, there were differences, no matter how small or subtle. Those were two different men.
That's when I started really tracking him. When I stopped just following, and started stalking him. No longer simply interested in what he was doing when I could see him, I had to know what he was doing when he left our home. When he was out of my sight. The next time he left the loft late in the evening, I was right behind him.
I found him in the park, hiding in the imagined safety of a copse of bushes and trees, hunched over another guy. He was fucking him almost brutally, the scent of arousal and sweat and need hot and thick around them.
Of all the places I might've expected to find him meeting someone, the old portion of the city park was the last one. I'd pictured bars, clubs, the student center at the university, anywhere but there. But there he was; I couldn't deny what my eyes were telling me. I watched, that night, and many others, holding my lust in as best I could, jerking myself off almost viciously when I got home, or there at the park, if I couldn't wait.
Tonight, I wasn't going to wait.
I picked my way carefully, stepping quietly. I could pretend I was just following him, but I knew the truth. Tonight, I was a predator moving in on his prey.
v v v v v v
I counted five different heartbeats amidst the bushes and trees, and Sandburg's was among them. I moved closer, slowly, pausing now and then to rub the aching erection pushing against my jeans. Two couples, and one solitary individual who was probably jacking off; his heart rate and breathing were rapid, although he could have just been watching. I'd done as much myself.
Standing alone, watching Sandburg fuck another man, one he couldn't possibly have known until five minutes before he stuck his dick out.
Hard on the heels of the memory came frustration, anger, and hunger, and a whole host of other things I couldn't sort out enough to identify. They rolled through me, coalescing into something so raw, so powerful, it made me shake with the effort it took to force it back down, to push it inside of me. I took a step forward then stopped when I heard a rough, low moan; Sandburg's voice, in a wordless expression of pleasure. Of hunger. Then his voice, words I'd never have thought to hear from my partner.
"That's it, man suck my cock. You want it? Want to suck it, eat it, feel it?"
A low moan answered him and I peeked through the bushes, letting enhanced sight compensate for distance and lack of light. Sandburg, turned partially away from me, with a large man on his knees before him. Sucking and groping the cock I wanted. He had short hair that reminded me of a military cut, making me wonder. Gays in the military have to be careful; if I were going to try to find a lay for the night, I might just come hang out at the local park, myself.
Not that I ever did anything like that.
Much.
Years in the past, I reminded myself impatiently, rubbing myself again and wishing I was the one sucking. Wishing I was the one with my arms around Sandburg's waist, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating outward toward me. Wishing I was the one tasting him. Getting ready to be fucked by him.
"Jim... Christ, Jim...."
The low moan caught me completely off guard. Did he know I was here? Did he know I was watching? I looked again, more closely; his eyes were tightly closed, his fingers scrubbing at the short, dark hair, hips rocking and hitching in a slow, steady rhythm. He moaned again, fingers dropping to caress the guy's face; the guy looked happy to be sucking, but a small crease between his eyebrows made me wonder. He stopped in the next moment, kissed Sandburg's belly, then leaned back.
"I toldja, my name's Chet." His voice was low, but deep, kind of sexy. I could see the appeal he would have for my partner. At least, I told myself I could.
Sandburg sighed, and I felt a reflexive pang of sympathy for Chet. I'd been on the receiving end of that sigh of patience enough times it could curl my toes with annoyance just hearing it, even aimed toward someone else. "I know, man. And I told you, part of the deal is I get to call you... Jim. Right? We agreed, remember? You get to get fucked, no strings attached, and I-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You get to call me 'Jim.'" Chet leaned back on his heels, his hands loose on his thighs. I wished I was as relaxed as he looked. What the fuck was going on here? "What's up with this Jim guy, anyway? He your wanna-be boyfriend? You're in love with the guy, and he hates fags, so you're gonna come down here and boff as many queers as you can, and pretend they're him?"
"That's none of your business, man. If you don't like the deal, then find another lay. I don't need this." Sandburg was doing up his jeans, his dick deflated, hanging limp.
"I will, man. I thought I could hang with that deal, but it's just too weird for me." Chet was doing up his pants as well. He stood up and turned more toward where I was standing, nearly shocking me into exclaiming aloud. He looked a lot like me. I mean, a lot. Tall, not quite as broad as Sandburg, but about the same breadth through the shoulders as me. His coloring was darker than mine, but the facial bone structure was similar, and he wore his hair similarly. It was eerie, to say the least.
"Fine." Sandburg didn't even wait to see if the guy was leaving for real, or not. He tossed his hair back out of his eyes and turned toward the outer edge of the copse of trees. I backed up quickly, not wanting him to see me there. Not yet. Not till I had some things figured out.
Like why he was fucking anonymous clones of me, unless he truly thought I was homophobic.
I didn't want him to leave yet, either, and that's what he looked to be getting ready to do. There weren't many guys in the park tonight, and Sandburg seemed to have pretty rigid standards they had to meet. No reason for him to hang around when he could go home and settle onto the couch with his roomie to watch some b-ball, or something else equally macho, while really-apparently-wanting to fuck his roomie's brains out.
Not even realizing said roomie would love to have his brains fucked out.
Before he could step fully out of the shadows of the trees, and before my brain could kick in and tell me this was a Very Bad Thing to do, I stepped forward, making my voice a hoarse quasi-whisper, to disguise it, at least a little. Just for the moment.
"I got what you want, buddy."
"Eh? Who's there?" Sandburg's voice was cautious and he didn't move from the shadows. I could hear his heart pounding; he was probably angry and aroused, both, even if his dick had gone down. Arousal in the brain works differently than in the body.
"Just someone who needs what you need, man. I heard you tell that other guy to get lost. You still want some?"
"How much did you hear?" Still wary, though he moved another step closer. I licked my lips, telling myself this was for him as much as for me.
"You wanna call me 'Jim,' and I get fucked. Right?"
"That's the deal, man. And no questions about why, got it?"
"No problem. I know what I want. Who cares why you want what you do." I stepped back a few paces, then circled slowly around him, making sure I remained in the shadows. "You want your dick sucked?"
"You want to taste me before I fuck you?" His voice was thick, a little rough around the edges. Oh, yeah. Still aroused, definitely.
"You know it." I felt my knees give out, dropping me down. His crotch was in my face a second later. I leaned in, breathing in the hot, bitter scent of arousal. Musk and sweat, a hint of semen, and a deeper scent that permeated everything in my office, my home, my life. Blair. I groaned aloud as I nosed around the denim covering him and his burgeoning erection, my groan turning to a gasp of hunger as he grabbed my head and shoved it against his groin.
"Suck me, Jim."
Holy mother of Christ. I nearly came in my pants, just from that. His voice, throaty, hungry, so full of need... it was all I could do not to whimper and just tell him who I was, and that I wanted him as bad as he obviously wanted me. I settled for mouthing him through the heavy denim, already able to taste the saltiness of his precome, already flowing freely for me.
Just for me, now. Nobody else, ever.
I reached up with shaking hands and undid the zipper, dragging it down slowly, teasing both of us. The hot scent that rose up grabbed me by the throat, pulling me downward, urging me to taste, insisting I had to do it now. His groan, lush and rich with want, rose up around us when I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth, my tongue playing with the velvety head, teasing at the tiny slit in the center.
"Oh, god, you cocksucker... oh, do it, Jim...." His hands cupped my head, holding me fast, a prisoner of my want and his lust. In answer I scraped my teeth very carefully over the soft, spongy head, then licked down the shaft as if he were a lollipop. The base of his cock had a soft nest of hair that curled inward, tickling my nose and lips. His scent was stronger here, trapped by the hair, held in by body heat. I felt almost light-headed, breathing him so deeply while the taste of him was so strong in my mouth, over my tongue.
He kept up a litany of words while I worshipped there, his voice rising and falling with pleasure. "More... harder... easier... good, ohgod, so good... suck me... wanna fuck your mouth... love you on your knees, Jim... want you so bad...."
When I blew out a deep breath and sucked him down my throat to the root he shouted, arching, bowing his back in order to shove as deep into me as possible, his breath rapid and panting, the air around us supercharged with lust.
I got in a couple good sucks like that before his breath caught, his heart pounding almost in my ear.
"STOP!" His voice was a frantic wail, his hands grabbing at my ears to pull me away. I leaned back, my mouth throbbing, my lips feeling swollen and stretched.
"What's wrong?" I coughed once; as great as it'd been, his dick was thick; having had it down my throat made it easier to rasp now, without having to fake it.
"Nothing's wrong, but if you want me in your ass, you better not make me come in your mouth. You want it up the ass?"
"Shit, yeah." I shifted a little, pulling the condoms out of my jacket. "I have some jackets here. Always come prepared."
"Just like a boy scout." He laughed a little, though I could hear the frown in his voice. "I want you on your knees, man. C'mon, get the pants down."
I rolled the rubber over his dick, swiping my tongue across the tip one last time before covering it. Fuck diseases; he tasted so good, and deception though this was, I wanted to taste him as much as I could. I considered trying for a kiss; his mouth was made for sin, made for kissing. I didn't think that'd go over well though. Anonymous fucks in the park didn't want to kiss each other.
Soon, Sandburg. You'll be mine soon enough, then I'll kiss you until our mouths are both raw.
I felt absolutely bare, completely exposed when I dropped my jeans there for him. The cool wind brushed over my ass, then up under my shirt, leaving an expanse of goosebumps in its wake. I shivered, the kiss of the salt-breeze from off the shore chill on my heated skin almost as sensual, as sexual, as the hunger burning inside me.
I could feel Sandburg's body heat even before he crouched up behind me; it was like being doused in volcanic lava after the chill of the wind. The rubber smell of the condom, the hot, hot scent of my partner's arousal, the rustle and crack of leaves and branches moving with the sudden rush of air through the park all surrounded us, making my belly tighten with need and the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
"Do it," I whispered harshly, my teeth gritted against my arousal. My cock was stiff, hard against my stomach, and I groaned when he reached under me and stroked it. "C'mon, man, shove it in me. Fuck me."
"Beautiful ass...." Sandburg stroked down my crack, rimming the edge of my anus with the very tip of his finger before poking lightly. I groaned and shifted. Lube... we didn't have any lube. Something cool and wet slithered over me and I realized he had a tube of it, probably stuck in his pocket. "Too nice to fuck up." I could hear the laughter in his voice at the very small, very bad joke he'd made, and a grin tugged at my lips. His cock nudging against my entrance made me gasp and push backward. God, I wanted him... wanted to feel him deep inside of me. I whimpered softly.
"Please...."
He was in with one long, smooth stroke, my body opening and accepting almost effortlessly. It hurt, but it felt so good. I hadn't taken a cock in such a long time. My more recent encounters with other men had been handjobs or blowjobs; satisfying enough, but not the same as this.
I could feel him throbbing inside of me, his blood rushing about trying to meet his demands. I could hear and feel his breathing as he crouched up against me, his hands brushing and smoothing over my back under my rucked-up shirt, letting more wind in to chill me. Hot and cold, like fire and ice. So good, burning me, then cooling me, then burning me.
The kiss against my back nearly undid me; he reached around again and stroked me at the same time, his fingers smoothing up and down my length as he licked and sucked at the skin just above the hollowed area of my back. I heard the soft whisper of "Jim," and something else... not words, but more than just sound. Then he was moving back, his hands moving to grasp my waist, diving in to fuck me in earnest, pounding into me over and over, his voice hot and gasping as he fucked and stroked, taking us both higher and higher.
"Do it, ohgod, do me... want it...."
"Take it, Jim. Take my cock up your ass and love it... beg me for it... wanna hear you...."
"Please fuck me... please...."
"Do it again... beg me, say my name... need to hear it, shit...."
He was so close; I could feel the change in his breathing, in the way his cock felt inside of me. Bigger, harder, swollen and ready to burst. Even with the rubber in the way, I could feel each separate throb, each minute movement of his skin.
"C'mon, Sandburg, fuck me... please, ohgod, please, I need it, need to feel you...."
I realized my mistake as soon as the words-his name-were out of my mouth. Goddamn it. He went dead still behind me, only his fingers clutching me, his cock still hard and throbbing inside of me. My gut twisted, tying itself into harsh, aching knots.
Jig's up. Game over. FuckFuckFUCK.
For a long, long moment, there was nothing behind me but silence. Dead quiet; not even the leaves dared to rustle. I pictured us, me on my hands and knees, jeans around my ankles, shirt rucked up to my shoulders. Him on his knees behind me, his pants down his legs, his hands clutching at me. Cock still buried inside me.
Not saying a word.
"Jim?"
His voice was so quiet, just that one syllable, questioning... questioning me. Wondering if I was really who and what he wanted. I nodded, my throat almost too thick to speak; forcing the words out hurt, but felt so good.
"It's me, Chief." I shuddered; admitting it made me more vulnerable, more exposed. Everything was laid open now.
"Why?"
I wasn't sure what he was asking for, and I couldn't see his face to try and read the question there. All I could do was take a guess, and hope I was right. Time to expose more of myself. This was not the time to hide things. Not when so much lay on the line.
"I wanted you. Want you. Need you. More than... more than friends."
He'd softened a little inside me, but not completely. Not enough to worry about losing the rubber. Just a little with shock, with the sudden cessation of movement, of stimuli. He was quiet behind me again for a long moment, then his voice, rich with wonder and amusement, and no lack of irony.
"Me, too."
And he thrust deep into me again, holding fast inside, his hand stroking my dick harder, faster, like it was me that had gone down, not him. But he was hard and throbbing inside me, his entire body encompassing me, surrounding me, inside me, taking me over.
I shuddered and cried out, my body aching and ready, needing so much more than even just this. I thrust forward into his hand, then back onto his cock, taking him deep, deeper, wanting to feel him hit my heart, nudge against my throat.
"Fuck me, Blair... please...."
"Mine, Jim. Only mine..." He leaned up over me and bit, hard, making me gasp and tighten around him in shocked surprise.
"GOD, yes! Oh... again... please...."
He laughed, low and dirty, and bit again, fucking me harder, his body hot and hard behind me, in me, taking me. I dug my fingers into the cool, damp dirt and tightened myself around him, milking his cock as he thrust in and out.
"You're... awfully good... at this...."
"Been practicin'... for you...." I shoved back, hearing his heart rate pick up, feeling the blood pounding through me in rhythm with him. "All my life."
He came inside me with a grunt and a groan, then a long, low cry that made goosebumps rise up all over me again. Hot and cold, the heat flowing over the cold, enveloping it. Enveloping me. I could feel my orgasm pulse through me, whipping me around like a leaf in a windstorm, lost in the chaos. I know I shuddered and groaned; I could feel him moving slowly, milking himself as I clenched hard around him, both of us sighing and moaning together.
When I came back to myself Sandburg lay collapsed over my back, both of us sweaty and still panting, his pulse thundering in my ear, an echo of my own. I shivered, knowing I was feeling him. His lips traced a pattern over my back, and I heard the words, caught on the sigh of the wind.
"...love you, Jim...."
I wasn't the only bare one here tonight, it seemed.
I shifted him off me, then rolled onto my back, pulling him close enough to feel his breath on my lips. We'd fucked, but hadn't kissed. He'd said the words; I'd only thought them. I shivered and leaned in, closing the distance, touching his lips, teasing my tongue over them. He tasted as good as I'd imagined; hot and sweet, ready to be explored. He'd taken my body; I wanted his mouth. I wanted all of him. All the time.
Forever would be good.
I plunged in, groaning as the heat rose up to engulf me, taking me down into his depths, holding me there while he plundered. Give and take, no quarter asked or given. Teeth joined tongues, and we bit and licked and tasted, losing ourselves in the frenzy of each other. When I pulled away from him, we were both panting again, adrenaline and need surging. I stared at him, my eyes tracing his face, memorizing what I'd already committed to memory once before, learning him as a lover now, instead of just a friend.
If he could say it, I could too. We'd both be bare tonight.
"Love you too, Chief."
~~Finis~~
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