Story 1: Some Like it Rough
(Jack/Martin)
Martin slid his key into the lock of his door and turned. He heard and felt the deadbolt slide free, the unconscious knowledge that he was home surfacing in his mind. Pocketing the keys, he pushed his door open and stepped inside. It was dark, the light from the small aquarium setting in a corner of the living room casting enough light to ensure he didn't have to turn any of the other lights on.
He preferred it that way. There was something about darkness that had always drawn him. An allure he'd never fully understood.
He walked to the coat closet and pulled off his jacket, hanging it up inside. His suit jacket followed, but that was tossed over the back of his sofa. He needed to ask Maria, his cleaning lady, to drop it off at the dry cleaners, along with the rest of his laundry. But, for now, that was good enough.
He started toward the hallway, but paused, his head cocking to the left as he listened. He could have sworn he'd heard something, but he couldn't make out anything now. The walls might be well insulated, but occasionally his neighbors managed to get rambunctious enough to penetrate it… He smiled slightly. How long had it been since he'd gotten some?
Too damn long, he concluded silently.
Reaching up, he tugged at the knot of his tie, pulling it down several inches and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He snorted softly, remembering a time when he'd promised himself that he'd never take a job that required him to wear a tie all the time, like his father did. He was more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, but he rarely got to wear them anymore. A shame, too – snug, soft denim showed off his… assets.
Not that it mattered. Nothing he'd done had caught the boss' eye. So, after a few months, he'd finally stopped trying. He was used to disappointment, but this time had stung more than usual. There was something about Jack that made him think the man might be able to give him what he really wanted. But he'd never know.
With a slightly frustrated huff of breath he started down the hallway, passing kitchen, den, and office on the way to his bedroom.
Just past the office, he stiffened and started to turn, but it was already too late. He was jerked roughly around and shoved hard against the wall, a tight grip and strong muscles making sure he stayed right there.
"Who are you?" Martin demanded, his right cheek pressed tightly to the cold surface of the wall.
There was no reply, but the man holding him leaned in closer, pressing Martin more tightly against the wall, pinning him there. Then, one of the man's hands reached up, grabbing hold of Martin's tie knot and yanking it free.
A moment later, Martin's wrists were being tied behind his back with the strip of material.
"Listen," Martin snarled, "I'm an FBI agent. If you know what's—"
The hands grabbed him and pulled him around, slamming him back up against the wall, the force of it nearly knocking the wind out of him. It was only meant to stun, but it was still effective.
The man grabbed the front of his shirt and started pulling him toward the bedroom. Martin balked, planting his heels and pulling back. He heard the sharp rip as the material tore. The sudden rending of the cloth nearly cost him his balance and he staggered back.
Seeing an opening, the man rushed in, dipping his shoulder and catching Martin in the midsection, folding him over. A second later the agent was being carried into the bedroom on the man's shoulder.
He was shrugged off moments later, dropped onto the bed where he bounced once, his body beginning to tremble as adrenaline hit his system.
One of his feet was caught, his shoe pulled off before Martin could really process what was happening to him. He jerked his second foot away and tried to scramble back on the bed, to get away from the man, but on the slick bedspread, with his hands tied behind his back, it was impossible. His second foot was caught, his remaining shoe flipped off.
Martin felt the bed shifting, and then he was being straddled. "Stop!" he ordered, but his assailant paid no attention to him.
The FBI agent felt his attacker leaning forward, then his own knit watch cap was being pulled down over his head, over his eyes. Not that it was necessary. He'd had blackout curtains installed to ensure that he could get to sleep whenever he had to. It was pitch black in the room, the only light reaching it coming from the orange nightlight in the master bath, and the faint blue glow of the aquarium at the far end of the hallway where it opened onto the living room.
Still, with the cap on he was effectively blinded.
Panic flared and Martin jerked back and forth, trying to dislodge the man, but whoever he was, he was strong, and determined.
When he felt the man's hands on his belt, he squirmed more frantically. "No!" he barked, trying to jerk his upper body off the bed to, hopefully, strike his assailant.
He was immediately stiff-armed and forced back down. The next thing he knew, the man reached out and grabbed his already torn shirt and jerked it open. Martin heard one of the buttons that popped free strike the surface of his nightstand.
Hands explored his smooth chest, thumbs and index fingers pinching his fear-hardened nipples.
Martin yelped and struggled harder, but with his hands tied and his legs pinned there wasn't anything he could do to stop the man from continuing.
The attacker's hands returned to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it open. His trouser button was opened, the zipper of his fly pulled down. Martin gasped as his still-covered cock was roughly rubbed, and he was surprised to realize he was half erect.
Then, with speed Martin hadn't anticipated, the man slid off him, pulling his pants down as he went, bunching the material at his knees. A moment later, Martin was being dragged toward one corner of the bed where he felt the man slip a rope over his foot. It was cinched tightly around his ankle.
Martin tried to roll toward the side where he was being tied, but a strong shove from the man sent him back onto the bed. A loud click sounded in the room and Martin froze. A moment later he felt the caress of cold steel as the blunt side of a large knife was run over the skin of his bare thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath and held it, waiting to see if the man hurt him.
But the sharp blade was only used to slice through the material of his pants.
As the dull side of the blade was pushed up along his leg, it felt so cold it was like water running down his leg.
When the man had cut both sides, he reached out and pulled the material out from under Martin, leaving him in his open shirt, socks, and briefs.
His right leg was pulled to the corner of his bed, his left stayed pressed as close to it as Martin could manage. Then, the agent felt the bed dip again before naked flesh was pressed against his own skin. He man used one hand on Martin's shoulder to roll him onto his side.
The attacker pressed his groin against Martin's brief-covered ass, and the agent could feel the man's straining erection.
The kiss of cold metal on the side of his leg caused Martin to freeze. And, a moment later, he felt the material of his briefs being cut away. He whimpered quietly, hoping the sound had been muffled by the bedspread. With the side severed, his attacker was able to pull the material away from Martin's ass.
Cold fingers slid into Martin's crack and rubbed over his tightly puckered hole.
Martin tried to pull away, but he couldn't. The man's hand slid over his hip and grabbed hold of his cock, squeezing it hard.
Martin froze, panting now. The fingers stopped squeezing. The message was abundantly clear: fight, and he would be hurt.
The attacker's hand slid a little way down Martin's left thigh, then the man leaned in and made it clear he wanted Martin to lift his left leg. When Martin didn't do it, the hand disappeared, and, a moment later, the agent felt the touch of cold steel on his neck, but it was still the blunted side. At least the man wasn't taking any chances hurting him.
Martin lifted his left knee, resting his foot on the bed.
The knife disappeared and the man's hand returned, fondling Martin's cock and balls, squeezing and tugging on them for a short time. Then the hand was gone once again.
Martin lay there, gulping in pants of air, trying to figure a way out of his predicament, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do.
He felt the man moving around behind him, then the cold fingers were back, this time pressing into the cleft of his ass. They were slick with lube, which was rubbed over his tightly clinched hole. One fingertip was pressed against the opening. Martin squeezed his muscles tight, trying to deny the man what he wanted, but his attacker simply forced himself into the constricted channel.
Martin grunted and tried to squeeze his muscles tighter, but he couldn't keep the effort up for long, and, despite all his efforts, the man was still able to sink his finger in all the way.
And once it was buried in his ass it was twisted around for a while, then his attacker began to fuck him with his finger, using short, hard stabs that the agent had to admit were more pleasurable than painful.
Martin squeezed his eyes closed and tried to bear down and force the man's finger out of him, but that just gave the attacker the opening he needed to stab two fingers inside him.
A yelp from Martin didn't slow the man, and the agent felt himself being slowly stretched open.
How long the attacker worked on him, Martin wasn't sure, but eventually he felt his ass and his cock beginning to respond. He tried to stop himself, but he was soon pressing back against the penetrating fingers, sinking them deeper inside himself by his own efforts. His head arched back, and he felt his cock begin to leak where it was pressed against his belly, hard and aching. When the two – or was it three now? – fingers were pulled out, he almost whimpered again.
A few seconds later his ass was being filled with a dildo. It was cold and knobby, and slick with lube, which ensured it slid effortlessly into him. Martin bucked forward, trying to escape the violation, but it was no use.
When the attacker turned on the vibrator, Martin's head jerked back again and his body shuddered with a need he wished he could deny. He whined softly, then grunted as the device was pressed in deeper.
The attacker fucked his ass with the vibrator, the combination of the cold, the texture, and the vibration overriding his fear with need. Martin cried out, his hips beginning to thrust back, trying to embed the dildo deeper. But it was pulled almost all the way out. Martin struggled, trying to press back, force it in, but that was denied him.
Then, his attacker chuckled softly and shoved the vibrator back in all the way. When it struck Martin's prostate he body went rigid, then began to shake. A moment later he was coming, shooting his seed all over his belly and chest while his attacker held the device deep inside him.
Martin cried out, jerking and twisting on the bed as his balls emptied.
When he was finally released from the grip of his orgasm, his attacker pulled the dildo out, and he was pushed over. Before he really knew what was happening to him, his right foot had been released and he was being turned over onto his belly in the center of the bed.
Martin tried to lift his head, but he was still caught in a lethargy that also clouded his mind.
His hands were untied, then retied to two of the slats of his headboard using velvet-lined rope. A knot was tied in the material of his tie, then forced into his mouth, the ends tied behind his head to effectively gag him.
His attacker climbed onto the bed and, using his knees, forced Martin's legs apart. Palms pressed down on his ass cheeks, pulling them open.
Martin grunted and tried to struggled, but it was far too late. He felt the blunt tip of the attacker's cock pressing against his asshole. The agent tried to squirm away, but he already knew it was useless.
A moment later, the head of the man's cock was forced inside him. He was thicker than the dildo had been and Martin sucked in air around the gag and froze. The man patted one ass cheek, then pressed his advantage, sinking himself deeper.
Martin whimpered, pain and pleasure washing over him as he was slowly filled. He tried to relax, but every time he did, the man slapped his ass, the sharp sting making his muscles contract again. Then the man pressed, sliding deeper into the tight passage.
When the man was finally buried inside him, he paused, savoring the feel of Martin's hot, tight ass. He slapped Martin a few times, making him yelp and jump, his muscles clinching tightly. Then, he began to move, slowly for a couple of strokes, then with a burst of speed and power that surprised the bound agent.
Martin grunted, his eyes squeezing shut as a mix of pain and pleasure rose in an overpowering wave that crashed over him. He cried out, but the cloth in his mouth muffled the sound. The man didn't slow, or ease off.
Martin felt the thick cock stabbing into his ass, felt the slap of his attacker's balls against his ass, each strike stinging more than the last.
Martin ground his teeth together, enduring the beating his ass was taking. His whole body shook from the force of the blows, but he, much to his disgust, was almost hard again, his cock fractioning against his bedspread with each ram into his ass.
Slowly, the furious stabs eased, replaced by long, slow strokes. And, when the man rode into him as deeply as he could, he paused, humping against Martin's ass, grinding his pubic hairs against the agent's slap-reddened, warm flesh.
It continued like that, the man fucking him like a steam-driven piston for a while, then stroking in and out of him at a leisurely pace. Martin could feel the man's cock swelling, feel the difference when his balls began to pull up and tighten. He waited for the man to come, hoping that would be the end of his torment, but that didn't happen.
Instead, his hips were pulled up, his ass lifted into the air. The cock was pulled free, the man using it to slap his ass cheek a few times before he shifted position, then drove himself back in again with a single thrust.
Martin cried out, grunted, then whimpered. The change in angle allowed the man to fuck him deeper. And, with his hips up like this, the man could also reach down and grab his cock and balls, jerking on them while he ravaged the agent's ass.
Martin couldn't believe he was hard again, couldn't believe some part of himself was enjoying being used like this. But he was.
He jerked when the flat of the man's hand came down hard on his ass cheek, a muffled yelp prompting a chuckle from his attacker. He was stuck again, and again, the stinging blows raining down coming harder each time.
Then the man's hand was back on his cock, working him, his thumb spreading Martin's precome over his glans.
Martin grunted, his hips beginning to move, fucking the man's hand while his attacker continued to use his ass. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to want what was happening to him, but he did. God help him, he did.
A few more strokes from the man and Martin's body began to shake, and then he was coming for a second time.
His attacker kept on his cock, stimulating Martin, forcing his balls to empty for a second time.
And when the attacker felt Martin's cock going soft in his hand, he released Martin and started to slap the agent's ass again.
Martin yelped, then cried out, the rain of blows almost too much for him to bear. He tied to pull away, to escape the blows, but one hand hooked under him kept him from going far. Still, he struggled and fought, trying to escape, all the while his ass convulsing around the thick cock he was impaled upon.
Suddenly, the blows stopped, and, a moment later, the man was thrusting into him again, as hard and as fast as he could.
Martin moaned, his eyes squeezing shut again, pain and pleasure exploding in his ass. Then he felt the man coming.
His attacker jerked his cock out of Martin's ass and the agent could hear the man working his dick as he grunted and continued to come, the warm globules of semen falling onto Martin's ass and back. Before he knew it, the bed shifted and his attacker climbed off.
Martin collapsed onto the bedspread, his rectum and ass cheeks both burning. Emotions crashed through him like a storm surge – humiliation, fear, disgust. He had no ability to fight left, so he waited, wondering if the man would kill him now.
He felt his hands being moved and realized that he was being untied. He knew he should take the opportunity to fight, or flee, something, but he couldn't force himself to move. He could feel the man's come sliding over his skin, dribbling down his side.
His tie was unknotted and pulled out of his mouth. A moment later, the knit watch cap was pulled off, but he kept his eyes shut. He didn't want to see who it was. If he saw the man's face, he was dead for sure.
He listened, tracking the man's movement as he crossed the bedroom to the master bathroom. He heard the water begin to run in his sink. Frowning, he tried to move, but his muscles were weak, shaky. The sound of the man's footfall as he returned to the bed froze Martin where he lay.
He gasped when a warm, damp washcloth was rubbed over his skin.
The man made two trips to the bathroom, cleaning him off completely. Eliminating evidence? He doubted it would matter. The man had come inside him. A rape kit—
Jesus. He'd been raped. He started to shake, the room suddenly too cold.
A blanket was dropped over him. Martin frowned, unsure what to make of that. Then the man slid under the blanket next to him, pulling him close and holding him. One of the man's hands rubbed lightly, even tenderly, over Martin's back.
The agent tried to hold the tears back, but they fell anyway. He was sacred now, terrified. What would happen next?
But nothing happened. He was held, touched, comforted. And, God help him, he sank into the sensations, losing himself in them.
Too quickly his body betrayed him, pulling him into sleep.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Something was wrong, but he couldn't remember what.
Martin shifted slightly, the muscles in his ass immediately cramping. Memories returned with a rush.
Martin jerked up in the bed, eyes wide and wild. The man who was sharing the bed with him was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. He took a sip from the coffee cup he was holding, then looked at Martin, his eyes considering, evaluating.
Martin gulped and swallowed hard. "What—? You?"
A small smile lifted the corners of the man's mouth. It was a cruel yet seductive expression. Hunger sprang into the man's eyes.
"Why?" Martin asked, scared shitless and aroused at the same time.
"You've been asking for it since the day you got here. I decided it was time to give you want you wanted."
Martin began to shake, his emotions in turmoil. He gasped, suddenly unable to breathe. Tears blurred his vision.
The man's expression shifted, becoming concerned. "Martin, I thought—"
Martin threw himself at the man, clinging to him, sobbing.
"Shh, easy… easy, Martin… Shh, baby, I'm sorry…"
"No," Martin gulped, shaking his head. He held on tighter. "Wanted you, Jack, wanted you so damn bad, but you just blew me off. I thought—"
"I saw what you wanted," Jack said quietly. "I just didn't think I could give you what you wanted, what I knew you needed…" Martin clung to him, holding on for dear life. "But I… I wanted it too, Martin."
"Why didn't you tell me?" the younger man moaned. "Damn, Jack, I was so fuckin' scared last night—"
"I know," Jack soothed, "I know, but there was a part of you that knew who I was. You didn't fight me nearly as much as you should have."
"You had a knife!" Martin protested.
"I did, but I didn't hurt you… with that, anyway."
"You ruined my clothes!"
Jack chuckled, the sound vibrating through Martin's body, warming him, reviving his arousal.
"You were… so damn hot," Jack half-growled at Martin. He reached out and tipped the younger man's head back, then leaned down and kissed him – hard.
Martin reacted, pouring himself into that kiss like his life depended on it.
When Jack broke it off, Martin pushed up, trying to re-establish it.
"Easy, tiger," Jack admonished. "You're going to have to wait a couple of days before I screw you through the bed again."
Martin shuddered at the words. "You mean you'll—?"
"Fuck your ass until you scream?" Jack finished with a leer. "Oh, yeah," he said. "You've been offering me that tight ass of yours for months… Well, now it belongs to me."
Martin swallowed hard, the words making him hard. "What about your wife?"
Jack snorted softly. "You let me worry about that bitch." He wrapped his arm around Martin's shoulders and pulled him close, holding him against his chest. "You, Martin… you're the one I want. You're the one who makes me hard. You're the one who belongs to me, understand?"
Martin nodded against Jack's chest, his eyes closed, his cock hard, his ass aching. He couldn't imagine life getting any better.
Continues in Sounding Love