The Game

A/N: Alcohol is leaving my system and I have a song on repeat; the last time those two things combined, I killed a character in a Final Fantasy VIII fic. Let’s see what happens this time. Iron Dog, for being a great friend and for always encouraging the pervert muses, this one’s for you. Sorry there’s no kink – yet.


++++++++++++


The boy – all possible players in the game are “boy” to me, though “young man” is probably more fitting – currently sitting next to me has no idea what he’s about to get himself into if he keeps hitting on me. I haven’t played in far too long and he’s very tempting.

“You’ve bought me three drinks and I still don’t know your name,” he remarks before licking at the rim of his glass. I haven’t properly introduced myself yet? How forgetful of me.

I push a few of my curls behind my ear and hold out a hand to him. “Sorry, I guess I was too busy thinking of other things” I tell him with a smirk. “The name’s Damien Fey. And you would be?”

“Jordan Vita-Sipe. We might have been thinking of the same kind of things.” He shakes my hand while returning the smirk, tawny hair falling across his forehead as it has several times before. As with each other time, one soft hand pushes it out of the way.

He’s pretty and seems willing. I haven’t gotten any in a couple of weeks. Propositioning him shouldn’t take this much thought. But there’s something about him that suggests he’s used to getting paid for sex and I don’t play the game with whores, no matter the price.

Jordan and I sip our martinis at nearly the same time and that makes him laugh. Tentatively, I run a thumb across the dimple I’d just seen appear in his right cheek. “Cute. You’re the best-looking guy I’ve seen come in here in weeks.” A slight exaggeration of the truth, but the game requires deception.

“Not so bad yourself. Strange color hair, though,” he says, gesturing at my blue-black curls. “Any way I could find out if that’s natural?” Well, I suppose that gets rid of whatever doubts I had about what he wants.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged,” I whisper in his ear. I stand up, pull on my coat, walk towards the door, and smile when he follows me out of the bar. I have the feeling we won’t even make it back to the apartment before things get fun.

Once we’re both in the car, I look over to him with a wicked grin on my face. “Anyone ever tell you it’s safer to sit in the back seat if you don’t know the driver?”

He mirrors my expression, reaches over, and squeezes my thigh as soon as I pull out. “My mom always did. But if I were in the back, I couldn’t make the ride to your place more fun, could I?” Dear gods, it’s as if someone’s copied the way I think and put it in his mind. This is going to be very interesting.

I can’t say anything in response. Jordan’s only stroking my inner thigh, but that’s enough of a distraction that I have to intensely focus on the road for the few minutes it takes before we get stuck at a red light.

And when he notices that, his slim fingers glide upwards, only grazing my groin long enough to make me draw in a slow breath. “I guess I forgot to tell you that the first rule of being with me is no teasing unless you plan to finish what you start,” I manage to say. Out of the corner of my eye, I’m barely aware of the accident that just happened at the intersection. Seems like we’ll be stuck here for a while, now. But I don’t think I’ll mind.

He chuckles, slides towards me as much as the seat allows, and quickly tugs down my zipper. I never wear underwear when I plan to play the game, so I sigh in relief when my half-hard cock gets pulled out and that smooth hand starts pumping it deliberately. My head almost falls back, but I remember that we’re still in traffic and I need to pay attention, so I just groan softly before turning to look at him. “Much better. You follow directions well.”

The look that crosses his face when I say that is strange; unfortunately, I’m so focused on what he’s doing to me – mixing firm strokes with soft touches to any place that might be sensitive – that I can’t identify it. I pull forward a few feet as my hips rise off the seat slightly. He’s good at this and I bet he knows it, but everyone enjoys a compliment. “We might be stuck here a while. You good at doing anything else in moving vehicles?” His answer is to smirk and lower his head.

Haven’t gotten head in a car in quite a while. I’d almost forgotten that the people willing to do it are usually the best. This is no exception. Jordan’s tongue runs across every vein as well as the spots he found while using his hand. My hips roll slowly and I tug his hair a few times in pleasure and impatience, but he doesn’t speed up. The wrecked cars must be out of the way now because the police are waving cars through slowly. And the moment I get to go through the intersection is the precise moment he chooses to swallow my dick.

I nearly swerve in surprise, but manage to stay in control for the two remaining blocks of the drive. Once in front of the building, I park and give the hair on the back of his neck a pull. “You’re going to finish me off before we go inside. I don’t need everyone we might see noticing that I’m walking uncomfortably from an erection.”

He nods in understanding and hums while his lips are still at the base of my cock. The vibrations nearly make me come, but I control myself to see what else he can do. Jordan bobs his head in time with my hips’ movements, fingers ghosting along my inner thigh. My body is much more eager for release than my conscious mind and I grunt softly when he pushes me to that point with a graze of teeth where head and shaft meet.

After I feel him swallowing and licking up what remains on me, he pulls away, hazel eyes meeting mine for an instant. “Was that good enough for you?” It seems like he asked the question out of habit and that, combined with his obvious experience, gives me even more erotic thoughts. Unfortunately, they don’t go with the game, so they’ll have to be ignored. There just might be a second time for this pretty one.

“More than good enough,” is all I say. I fix my pants, step out of the car, and grab the pretty boy’s ass when he walks next to me. We head up the stairs to my apartment, neither of us saying anything. There’s no point in small talk.

The moment I get the door locked behind us, I turn around, press his shoulders against the wall, and grind against him. “The other rules about being with me are never to tell me what to do in bed and never kiss me. Ask nicely and I’ll usually do whatever it is that you want from me. I only kiss people I care about, which I’m sure you know doesn’t currently apply to you. Understood?”

That look from the car appears again for a moment, but he nods, gasping as I squeeze the bulge in his suede pants. Only a few people haven’t wanted to play by the rules. In those cases, I politely send them on their way.

I fumble with his pants zipper for a moment before managing to pull both it and the pants down. A quick look down shows no tan lines, merely more skin several shades later than my own, natural tanned appearance. I’m sure Jordan’s probably expecting to be touched right now and I enjoy doing the unexpected. So, instead of stroking the leaking erection near my hand, I kneel in front of him and start sucking at just the tip of that cock.

His reaction is one I’ll remember for a while. The boy’s hips jerk upwards, his hands tangle in my hair, and I hear him swear under his breath in another language. I tease his sac with a practiced finger while still focusing on just the most sensitive areas of his length with my lips, tongue, and teeth.

I don’t care about the pain of my hair being pulled. All I’m focused on is what I can hear him saying. Currently, that’s just a mixture of noises, words I can’t understand, and demands, so I slowly glide my tongue across his slit several times. He yelps loudly, jerks his hips again, but it takes another few moments before I hear the plea I’d been determined to get out of him.

And as soon as I hear it, I press two fingers against the space between his balls and his ass while another brushes across his entrance and I suck harder than I had been. Jordan’s squeak when he comes earlier than expected is very cute. Now he knows that I meant what I said about asking for things.

Not too surprisingly, he tastes good. I stand up again after swallowing the rest, pulling his sleeveless crimson shirt up along the way. I take advantage of the fact that he’s a few inches taller than I am by sucking his earlobe while one hand pinches an erect, light-pink nipple. When I bite, I can feel his head shaking.

“Please don’t leave marks,” he pants. “My boss won’t like it if I show up looking like a horny teenager.”

He’s probably only just out of his teens, if that, but I don’t say that to him. I go back to the light sucking and teasing nips while Jordan gets my pants around my knees and squeezes my ass roughly. I grind against him and we groan in unison. At this rate, I’ll end up breaking my rules for the game and fucking him out here instead of in my bed.

I let him rock against me a few more times before I roughly squeeze his hips and say against his neck, “Bedroom. Now. Kick off your shoes and pants and follow me back there.” He nods and waits for me. I kick my shoes to opposite ends of the room, step out of my pants, and walk down the hall while unbuttoning my shirt. It ends up on the floor just inside the doorway, leaving me in socks and the seven-pointed star pendant I always wear tucked under my shirt.

The boy is very beautiful nude, I decide as I sit back on the bed. He’s got a swimmer or a figure skater’s build – slender, with defined muscles and not much visible fat. I know he’s looking me over as he steps nearer. I enjoy watching his eyes as they roam my body, lingering on my pendant and then on the small, printed words tattooed around my ankle.

As he climbs on the bed, his fingers brush across them lightly. “What’s the whole thing say?”

“It says ‘We call them cool, those hearts that have no scars to show.’ It’s from a song I like.”

He snickers until I roll on top of him. That makes him shut up and he arches up against me, making me groan because he’s hard again. I smirk down at him and rock slowly to get just as aroused as he is. Jordan’s arms find their way around my back as he whines pleasantly. The sounds go right to my groin and it doesn’t take long to get my body ready to fuck him. Just one more thing I have to do as part of the game and then I can stop thinking.

“Want it rough or should I be nice to you?” I whisper huskily in his ear. He thinks it over for a moment and answers by sharply raking his painted nails down my back. Rough it is.

I briefly consider flipping him over so I can pound him into the mattress, but decide against it. Haven’t fucked anyone who likes using his nails in a while and it’ll be nice to see if he claws me again. I straddle his hips and reach into the second drawer on my nightstand, pulling out a condom, but no lube, with another evil grin.

Since he doesn’t question me, I rock against him roughly one last time before nudging his legs apart, sucking on two fingers for a long moment, and pushing them into him. Jordan whimpers and digs the nails of one hand into my collarbone as I minimally stretch him out. His eyes are half closed and his lower lip is between his teeth by the time I pull my fingers out. Without me having to say anything, he lifts his ass up. I nod my approval, roll the condom on, and thrust into him suddenly.

The boy yelps and I feel nails in my lower back along with the heat and tightness of being inside him. I can tell I’m far from his first, but I’ve never cared much about that. He lies back further, then wraps his arms around my back and one long leg across my hip. My eyes close and I roll my hips slowly a few times to get him used to me. All Jordan does is rock against me and breathe in my ear.

I can feel my hair falling into my face. I don’t care, though. It’ll be a complete mess by the time I’m finished with him tonight. When I think he can handle more, I start thrusting harder and faster. He tries moving with me, but I change speeds randomly to keep him focused on what he’s feeling. What doesn’t change is the force of my pounding and the way he sounds as I shift a few times to try and find his prostate.

Gods, I should get back in the habit of playing the game every week instead of this less-frequent business. It’s always good to be fucking someone senseless, feeling a body clench around my cock and sweat trickle off both of our bodies as we work towards the same thing. Jordan is one of the most vocal I’ve had in longer than I want to think about. Every moan, every drawn-in breath and whimper makes me twitch inside of him before I get back to mercilessly thrusting against his sweet spot.

I can feel just how little it’s going to take to bring me over the edge again once the boy deliberately squeezes his passage around me. I groan, nip his chest, and keep pounding away at him while my hand jerks at his cock. Fingernails dig in, probably nearly drawing blood, when I hear him nearly scream and feel both the contracting of muscles near my cock and the warmth of semen on my hand. He pants in my ear while his limbs fall from around my body, relaxed in post-orgasmic pleasure.

Since he’s too limp to claw me any more, I reluctantly pull out of him just long enough to flip him over. Once he’s aware of the change in positions, I start fucking him again. Now that he’s gotten his release, I can think only of my own.

It only takes a few more frantic thrusts before I tense up, resist the urge to bite the back of his neck, and hit that wonderful peak. I’m breathing just as hard as he is after I remove myself again, toss the used condom in the trash, lie down next to him, and quickly fall asleep.

The next morning, it’s no surprise to wake up to an empty bed. What is a surprise is the note waiting for me on the refrigerator:

Damien,

The other day, a man calling himself Gabriel paid me twice what I usually charge to be at that bar last night and see what you would do. Now I have to tell him that things played out pretty much as I was told to expect.

I don’t know if that’s his real name or if you know him at all. But I feel obligated to tell you that you were set up. Sorry. I really did enjoy myself, though. Umm, if you ever want to do that again, my number is 386-555-7177. I won’t ask you to pay because even an escort can have fun off the job, right?

Jordan


++++++++++++


A/N: Damien’s tattoo is the opening lines from Garth Brooks – Standing Outside the Fire. The full verse is “We call them cool/Those hearts that have no scars to show/The ones that never do let go/And risk the tables being turned.” It fits him quite well, I think.