smooth, Doc. Want to touch?”
Crane didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the movement beneath the stretchy grey material, the bulge growing slowly until the head of Max’s cock was clearly outlined. Fuck.
“Shit!” Max swore suddenly, putting both hands on the wheel to make a sharp right turn onto the exit. “Damn, I almost missed our turn off.”
Heart pounding, Crane looked back over at Max and saw his face was flushed and his eyes were amused. When he dropped his gaze, he saw Max’s cock was naked now, the hem of the dress held back by his stiff shaft. Warmth bloomed in his belly and his pulse soared. Without a word, Max reached over and took his hand, drawing it towards his erection.
Hesitantly, Crane wrapped his hand around Max’s length. He remembered Max’s words, so long ago now: It’s fine. You don’t have to touch me. But one day, you’re going to want to. He could feel Max’s heartbeat against his fingers. Damn him for being right.
“You don’t even have to move your hand. Just hold me,” Max murmured, taking another right onto a packed-gravel road lined with tall trees. “I just want to feel you. We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?” Crane said in a hoarse voice, giving Max’s dick a small squeeze.
“Huhh… Oh, that feels good.” Max widened his thighs, causing the car to rev in response. “You’ll see.”
Crane experimented with his grip on Max’s cock, making Max moan and sigh and squirm in his seat. By the time they pulled up to a long, low building, they were both breathing heavily.
Grinning, Max pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and walked unsteadily in his low heels towards the small door set in the building’s side, tugging his dress down to cover himself, though the material still jutted out in the most ludicrous way. “C’mon, Doc.”
Crane followed Max into the building and saw a small plane, probably a Cessna, covered in a tarp at the back. He realized they were in a hangar. “You can fly?” he asked, surprised.
“No…” Max laughed, and then he pointed to the Cessna. “And we’re not flying in that thing. Are you kidding me?”
“Then why are we here?”
“I know a guy with a private jet. He’s going to take us south to Tucson, and we’ll go the rest of the way by car. He’ll be here around noon.”
“Of course you know ‘a guy’,” said Crane with a headshake. “What about papers? Passports?”
“Another guy,” Max said with a sly smile. He turned around and slid the dress up high enough that just the very bottom of his cheeks showed beneath the hem as he walked.
“You’ve got a lot of friends in low places,” Crane pointed out, his eyes locked on Max’s swaying backside.
“Who said they were in low places?” Max’s laugh was husky, and he teased a look over his shoulder at Crane.
“What about money?”
“Sweetheart, you’ll never have to worry about money with me.”
“Noon?” asked Crane.
“What?” The non-sequitur gave Max pause and he frowned, looking confused.
“We’ll be alone until noon?”
“Yeah, completely. Why? Did you have some—” Max let out a strangled cry as Crane pounced on him and wrapped his arm around his neck, pulling his forearm back hard against Max’s throat. Max fought him, stumbling as Crane dragged him over to the workbench against the far wall. Crane pushed Max down on the pitted wood surface, bent over at the waist, and rested his full weight down on his back to stop him from struggling.
“You fucked me, Max,” he growled in Max’s ear, fumbling at the dress to pull it up past Max’s hips. Max let out a small choked noise and reached up and back, raking Crane’s shoulder painfully with his nails. In response, Crane pressed harder against Max’s windpipe and felt a spasm go through Max’s body, his clawing getting weaker. “You fucked me,” he repeated, a hoarse whisper this time. He undid the button and zipper of his shorts and pulled out his dick, finding the smooth, hairless cleft between Max’s cheeks. Max had stopped moving beneath him, so he let go and wrenched Max over onto his back. Max’s eyes were closed, his face pale, but he still breathed. Spotting a bottle of mineral oil among the containers of engine oil and hydraulic fluid, Crane grabbed it and poured some on his dick. He dragged Max’s dress up nearly to his ribs to expose him, then cupped his naked scrotum and crushed it in his hand. Max’s eyes flew open, and he coughed and let out a pained wail—Crane let go of Max’s balls to wrap his hand around his throat, cutting off his cry.
“Yeah, you fucked me, you little psycho. Now I’m going to fuck you,” Crane said, yanking up one of Max’s legs so it rested on his shoulder. He took aim, grinned, and shoved his cock against the pink pucker, sliding in all the way to the balls in one brutal thrust. Max’s body bucked beneath him, his eyes fluttering, limned in white, and face blotchy and red. Crane started fucking Max deep and fast, impaling him, and grunted like an animal with every exhale. Wanting Max to feel everything, he only let him have some air when it seemed he would pass out.
Then, with a rasping exhale, Max clenched his teeth and convulsed, his cock spurting a white streak onto his belly, and another, driven out of him by Crane’s thrusts.
Crane growled but didn’t release his grip on Max’s neck, and instead began choking his air off completely. Max’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his lips began turning blue. He twitched and scrabbled weakly at the hand strangling him.
I could kill him right now. I could kill him and be done with it. I could kill him and be free.
Crane gasped and let out a cry, the cum erupting out of him with almost violent shocks of pleasure as he slammed into Max’s body, his knees close to buckling as he fucked him hard and quick until he was finished. Then he let go of Max’s neck and dropped his leg, scooping him up under the arms to draw him against his chest.
Head lolling on Crane’s shoulder, Max was limp in his grasp for a few moments, and then he pulled in a shuddering breath and began to cough, wheezing hard for a few seconds. Max began to laugh, his voice hoarse. He pulled back and looked up at Crane, his makeup smeared. There was a red streak in one of his eyes, and his neck was mottled and burgundy in places. Cupping Crane’s face in his palms, he coaxed him forward, his breathing shallow, and tried to kiss him.
Crane held him back. “Max… You made me believe I was going to die in prison.”
“Yes, yes I did,” admitted Max, a serene smile on his face. His voice was a rough whisper. “A little cruel, I know, but didn’t it make your daring rescue so much better?”
Crane shook his head slowly, at a loss for words, but all he felt was something that could pass for amusement. He was tempted to point out that the only reason he was free was because Max had had a change of heart. Or had he? Maybe he’d always intended to free Crane. Maybe not. Crane doubted he would ever know the truth.
Max wrapped his legs around Crane’s hips and gazed up at him fondly. “I missed you, Doc. Did you miss me?”
Pulling Max’s red wig off to smooth back his flattened brown curls, Crane studied Max’s expression. He could almost believe Max was being genuine. He stroked Max’s cheek with this thumb.
“I did miss you” he had to confess. There was no climbing back out of the rabbit hole; he was fucked and fucked good, but at least the company was interesting.
When Crane finally brushed his lips to Max’s, Max let out a small whimper, and Crane closed his eyes and kissed him passionately, surrendering entirely to his addiction.
Home at last.
THE END
Soundtrack
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Books by Bey Deckard
Baal’s Heart Series
Caged: Love and Treachery on the High Seas
Sacrificed: Heart Beyond the Spires
Fated: Blood and Redemption
Careened: Winter Solstice in Madierus
F.I.S.T.S
Sarge
Murphy
F.I.S.T.S. Handbook For Individual Survival in Hostile Environments
The Actor’s Circle
The Complications of T
The Last Nights of The Frangipani Hotel
The Stonewatchers
Kestrel’s Talon
Standalone Books
Better the Devil You Know
Exposed
Beauty and His Beast
Short Stories
Somethin’ of Value (Discovery: QSF's Second Annual Flash Fiction Contest Anthology)
Don’t Touch Me (UnCommon Bodies Anthology)
Rakka Surprise (UnCommon Lands Anthology)
About the Author
Bey Deckard currently lives in the wilds of Montreal with his best buddy, a spotty pit bull named Murphy.
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