Author: Taylor-Ame PM
His breath hitched and his heart raced as he waited for the sounds to signal him. It was this single act that bought such joy to his lonely existence. If only he were part of it. One-shot M/MRated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Words: 3,880 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 2 - Published: 12-21-04 - id: 1788213
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I asked the guy I used to date what his ultimate fantasy was. This is what he told me – in a round-about way. I think it's kinda hot.
His breath hitched and his heart raced as he waited for the sounds to signal him, enticing him from his makeshift bed. His anxiousness was clearly visible as his cotton shorts tented at the front. This. This is what he waited for, throughout the prolonged and arduous hours of the day. When the sun was long in hibernation and the outside world was silent save for the nocturnal wildlife. It was this single act that bought such joy to his lonely existence.
If only he were a part of it.
Oh, how he prayed he could become a participant. The scene of which he so longed to be a part of had never been a thought in his mind before. Before, he would have thought it repulsive. Against nature. Harmful. Degrading. Not anymore though. Now, he wanted to be there. He desperately wanted to experience the sensations, the thoughts, the feelings. He wanted to feel the rush and exhilaration as he writhed in ecstasy. It was not to be. He knew, after so long (had it already been four years?), that if he were to be selected it would have happened long ago. All of the others had been selected – all except him. Which was primarily the reason that he cried to himself during the day. His hushed sniffles echoing around his space as he mourned the loss of physical contact. Of that physical contact. To be relieved of his constant pain, the mounting pressure in his loins. He would masturbate violently as he cried, in an attempt to ease the sensations.
It never worked.
He would be left feeling merely pathetic and cradling his groin, aching from the constant abuse it had received. Of course, his sobs would only increase in ferocity until his throat, chest and eyes ached, when he would realize that he felt nowhere near content and satiated and would wait until nightfall to imagine he was a part of what he was witnessing.
This was his consistent daily routine. And despite everything, he loved it.
And once again, he was lying naked on his bed, the bright flame of his lamp long extinguished in anticipation, as the beginning sounds of moving feet wafted to his ears. He was frozen in place, not wanting to miss a single memorized step of this nightly routine that he needed so badly.
The sound of another door opening was his signal. They had their participant.
He waited a moment until he knew they were all together. Then, he silently crept the short, well worn path to his own doorway, kneeling on the carpeted ground and trained one eye through the large space underneath the door. He sighed softly in relief, as he did every night, when he saw them start their 'set up' process. He began his own small 'set up' ritual by placing an old t-shirt on the ground below his groin to capture his seed. The last thing he wanted was to get into trouble for what he was doing. Once settled, he took a deep breath and looked outside his door. Beyond the feet, he could see the empty hallway and the closed doors that currently hid the other participants, which completely surrounded the centre Temple (as he had come to name it).
Over the past innumerable years that he had been here, each of those doors had opened multiple times at this time of the night, except for his. He let another sigh escape his lips, this time in resignation. He knew he shouldn't be pining for this. God damnit, he knew it. As he felt the onset of hot tears prick the back of his eyes, he took a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to regain his composure. They were getting into position now.
It would begin soon.
He watched as the blue, pristinely bright shag rug was laid in the centre of the Temple. No matter what spillage was attracted to the rug, it was always cleaned spotlessly for the next night. Just another of their kind gestures. He smiled softly at this thought; a smile full of care, and giving, and love. If only they were to see it. If only they were to see how much he loved them, and how he would readily participate with vigor, and do his absolute best to please and satisfy them. But they didn't know that. Nor would they.
This ritual meant everything to him, and they didn't fucking know! It meant everything, and they had never, not once, allowed him to join them in this sacred act. He never knew why. He was always the model captive. He never raised his voice, got angry or spoke back out of turn. He never disrespected any of the Leaders, nor their helpers. He would make sure that they all knew how grateful he was for each meal (snacks included), each time his laundry was completed and his room was cleaned. He was even appreciative that the resident Doctor would regularly examine and test all Leaders and captives for various diseases and other medical issues. Each person was in impeccable health. For a brief moment he felt hatred towards them for not noticing his gratitude, but almost as quickly, he expelled it and forced himself to concentrate. He was surprised at his lack of attention, but put it down to sheer primal arousal. He needed this so damn badly.
This was his life.
They were beginning. The participant was gently lowered with his back to the rug. From his position behind the door, he could see the other captive lying there, naked with nothing but lust over his face. How he was envied. He watched as one of the Leaders moved off to the side, and before he returned, a beautifully soft melody floated throughout the Temple. The three Leaders in attendance crouched around the participant and watched his face, before their eyes slowly swept over his lightly perspiring form. The participant moaned as he saw them do this. He knew what was to happen.
The Leaders began removing their clothes, as they remain crouched.
There was a collective gasp between the participant and the man behind the door. He always had this reaction when the disrobing began. He had seen it almost every night for years, and their bodies never ceased to amaze him. And to think, he had only ever seen them naked through this crack under his door.
Soft, loving smiles played over the Leaders' lips as they gazed at their privileged participant for the night. He took a moment to gaze at the Leaders, as he often did, from his hidden position. They were all completely different in appearance and all appeared to be under the age of twenty-five. The tallest had a shaggy mop of dirt blonde hair that fell about his face just right. He had a toned stomach that came from a strict diet and a rigorous work out timetable (he had learned this in one of his many attempts to seduce his various captors – all without success). He had soft blue-green eyes and straight (though slightly yellowed) teeth that flashed when he smiled. He also had a sizable length, nestled in curly, light brown hair, which appeared to give his participants intense pleasure.
The thinnest Leader was pale, yet not overly so, that it suited him. Wavy black hair clung to his shoulders and accented his deep brown eyes. His nose was slightly odd-shaped and gave him a kind and endearing quality. His long slender fingers worked absolute magic on the bodies they were assigned to. Quite often participants would be begging for more caresses, more strokes, more fondling. His length was notably smaller than that of the other Leaders, but he more than made up for it with other talents, so no-one gave his size any thought.
The third of the Leaders present, and the most powerful, was incredibly personable to look at. With his average yet neatly kept brown hair, his warm, plain brown eyes and his slightly expanding waistline, he was easily the most gentle. However, he rarely ever got involved in the act. He would disrobe and relax the participant with gentle touches and whispers, but would never penetrate, nor ejaculate. He would remain seated off to the side, still visible but more often than not, would be content to watch. He would watch without touching himself. Oh, he was always excited, that part was obvious, but would seldom take part in this act. He would watch with care on in his features, always ready to help if any pain was accidentally caused to a participant or a Leader. And when the power of orgasm was upon the others, his smile would grow wider and slowly, gradually, his arousal would deflate. Though the smile never wavered.
He was the one that most captives wanted to be with. With his gentle hands, plump lips, enticing organ, and nimble body, it was considered highly prestigious if one was to actually entice this Leader to orgasm. Very few had successfully fulfilled their task. So few, in fact, that it was lucky to happen twice annually.
This is what his ultimate goal was. To bring this Leader to the ultimate pinnacle, hold him there briefly, and then allow him to reach the apex of his being. For this Leader to cherish the skills brought onto him by this lone captive. This captive, that had received no outside sexual gratification or intimacy for years. He wanted the Leader, his Leader, to look upon him with love and awe at the skills that possessed his sexual other. He wanted to be bathed in the gentleness that each other captive received. He wanted to be held closely, to hear another heart beat as loudly and as fiercely as his does.
His eyes again focused through the gap as he saw the spellbound man accept the pleasure that was being lavished onto him. Hands were run across his torso, avoiding the sensitive skin of the nipples. Light, feathery kisses were placed on his lips, his neck, his ears. Gasps quickly turned to groans that resonated throughout the small Temple, and its surrounding rooms. Sweat glistened in the flickering lights of the flaming lamps strategically hanging around the place. They accented every ripple, every flex, every thrust.
He was painfully hard but he wouldn't touch himself. He never did, at night. His eyes did all the touching he needed. He knew he would ejaculate regardless. It was so precious to him that all he needed to do was watch and he would orgasm. He could tell by the grunts and erratic thrusting that they were almost there (had so much time already passed?). He positioned himself with his behind in the air, his weight resting on his forearms which lay flat on the floor. He spread his knees slightly to ensure that nothing touched his erection, and repositioned his t-shirt to where he thought his fluid would land. His breathing came faster as he imagined himself out there, in the Temple, feeling the large length of the powerful Leader slide in and out of his opening. Faster now, the thrusts and groping came. Moans, grunts, groans and cries of pleasure filled the Temple and each surrounding room completely.
This sound of lovemaking was enough to turn on any man.
The back of the participant arched off of the ground, as his hips jerked upwards with it, greedily filling himself to the hilt. The tallest Leader certainly didn't object. With a loud cry he buried himself in the hot crevice, and as his lover for the night gripped him close, he pumped his warm fluid into the other man. Shudders overcame both as the thin Leader masturbated over the two writhing bodies. After a moment tongues flicked out to clean up the mixed seed, the current partaker lapping most hungrily, eager to savor this moment for as long as possible. It was not known when he would next be selected.
Even as the scene in the Temple began to wrap up, he refused to tear his eyes away until everyone had left. His now-softened penis hung between his legs (he hadn't changed his position), semen continuing to drip slowly from the tip. A small puddle had formed on his t-shirt, which would not go to waste. He kept is eyes on the powerful Leader, who helped the three men to their feet, before taking a seat in the corner again. His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh as he glanced toward the one door that held his captive audience. He bit his lip gently before rising, collecting the blue shag rug and extinguishing all lamps, and leaving the Temple.
Once all activity had ceased in the centre room, the soiled t-shirt was gently picked up and placed on his small bedside table. He sat on the side of his bed and reminisced, as he always did at this time of the night, gazing softly at his spilled seed as it cooled. Holding on to the corners of the t-shirt, he leaned over and touched his tongue to the fluid, his eyes sliding shut in bliss. As his tongue continued its trek through the puddle, he imagined that he was sharing a semen-laden kiss with the powerful Leader. He spent a languorously long time in tasting and swallowing what the t-shirt had caught. Once finished, he replaced the damp item in its hiding spot and returned to the bed, exhausted though not fully sated.
But that was okay. He never was anyway.
Each day went past, each as ritualistic as the one before it. Though one day, things were different. He wasn't overly shocked, as there was only one day a year that was different to the others – his birthday. Sure, all captives are given the same treatment on their respective birthdays, but he liked to feign ignorance and imagine that it was done only for him.
He was presented with a small cake by the powerful Leader, which stated he had turned 20. He gratefully accepted the cake and placed it on his nightstand. Giving a slight bow to the older man in front of him, he followed it with a gentle kiss to his hand. He had never done that before. The only contact he had had between himself and this man of such intrigue was an occasional brushing of hands when he was visited. This was something new, and he reveled in the taste of his skin. A slight smile played across the Leaders lips as he cupped his hands around the smaller mans cheeks. The captive started, entirely shocked at what was happening as he watched his captor lean close and press soft, warm lips to stiff, trembling ones. The kiss was chaste and had ended before it could be returned. No words were spoken as the Leader initiated an embrace, before leaving and closing the door softly behind him.
The captive fell to his knees and sobbed in pure ecstasy.
Love had been reciprocated to him. That was all he needed. He had received that physical touch he so longed for and it had been exponentially more astounding than he could have imagined. He remained as he was, his sobs gradually easing and his breaths now coming with little difficulty. He took one last shuddering breath, ceased his tears and stood in the middle of his room. He felt a peculiar sensation in his shorts, and looking down, his odd suspicion was confirmed. Such a simple kiss had been enough for him to orgasm. He sighed at the beauty of it all as he removed his shorts and gave them the same treatment that his t-shirt often received.
And for the first time in years, he spent the entire day sleeping. Not once, during the times that he woke, did he make an attempt to masturbate. He just didn't have the desire to.
When he awoke, the sun had long since set. He momentarily panicked thinking that he had missed that night's ritual, until he realized that no, he would have most certainly heard something. But there was no light and he heard no sounds. Sighing a breath of relief, he used the small bathroom that his room contained to shower and relive his bladder. Once emerged, he helped himself to a large slice of his birthday cake to ease his hunger. His thoughts drifted back to the Leader and the sensation of having lips pressed against lips. When had he last been kissed? Was it from his Mother? His Father? His girlfriend (or rather, ex-girlfriend, now)? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter anyway. His life was here now. His thoughts delved deeper as he lay on his bed, staring into the inky blackness that the back of his eyelids offered. He was still sure to listen for the signal, though for the moment, he was perfectly content where he was.
He was dragged from his thoughts as he heard the soft sound of a door opening.
A small smile crossed his lips as his thoughts turned to the nightly ritual. For some reason, after the events earlier in the day, this process had so much more meaning. He waited another moment before his eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the darkness. There should be some light by now. It took him another moment to realize that the door that had opened was his.
His door was fucking open!
He knew because the moon that shone through his high window would reflect on the small mirror hanging on the back of his door. Every night. He would stare at the ivory light until it disappeared, often getting lost in it until the ritual began.
But there was no reflection now.
He very slowly stood, his eyes unblinking, still adjusting to the dark. Once standing, he didn't move a muscle. There was silence. It seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the black night and two shadows formed at the doorway. They, too, remained still. He was frightened. He didn't understand what was happening; why there were no lit torches, why there were no sounds, why the two forms at his door had chosen to remain unseen.
He drew in a shuddering breath and moved to speak, before he was silenced as the shadows came toward him. He began shaking uncontrollably. Tears started the trek down his face. All at once the forms stopped before him, and a torch was lit in the Temple. The shadows had faces. The one to his left was a Leader that he didn't see to regularly. He was well built, with tanned skin that set off his shortly cropped dark blonde hair. His piercing green eyes held a wealth of emotion and wisdom that one only hoped to accomplish in their life.
But it was the other Leader that garnered the most attention from this lonely man. The powerful Leader. The one that he would come to describe as having the softest, warmest lips that had ever touched another mans skin. Lips that could kiss away a thousand stresses and still contain strength.
Simultaneously, two arms snaked out around his waist, each arm belonging to a different man. His body was rigid as they slowly led him out of his room and in to the Temple. The individual that had lit the torch had obviously retired for the night. Quiet tears continued to roll down his face as they gently lowered him to a sitting position on the blue shag rug (clearly he missed those sounds in his slumber) and offered him a drink of water from a glass that had seemly appeared out of nowhere. He greedily drank the liquid, abruptly realizing that his mouth was dry and his throat parched. His eyes never wavered from both Leaders, who were huddled in a corner facing away from him, unintelligible whispers emerging from their mouths. He gently placed the glass on the ground next to him and waited.
He had never been this nervous in all of his twenty years.
He didn't have to wait long. The powerful Leader moved to him (the other Leader remaining in the corner), kneeling at eye level. Brown eyes stared into blue ones for a long time before a hand reached out to wipe away his tears. The Leader smiled at him, and in that moment, all fear was gone. He was no longer frightened or nervous, just simply excited at what was to come.
His shorts were removed agonizingly slowly and showed him that he was already hard. He hadn't even noticed his arousal. Gentle hands slid over his chest, stomach and legs, eliciting small grunts from the mouth of their participant, him. The man in front of him smiled at these sounds and slowly his own organ began to thicken beneath his clothes. The participants eyes slid closed as hands continued their assault on hyper-sensitive skin. A thin layer of sweat gleaned on his body as he arched into each touch. His eyes opened again in time to see the other Leader walk to him, a small object held in his hand. He, too, kneeled in front of their participant. It was clear now that the object was a tube. The Leader squeezed a small amount of the substance onto his finger and applied it to rim of the captives aching hardness. He cried out when he felt the cool fingers, before a curious tingling sensation was induced. He was gently lifted to his knees and bent over onto all fours and an even smaller amount of the thick liquid was applied to his anus. The fingers were removed and he sat back down. As the Leader stood to return to the tube to the corner desk, the captive read the label – desensitizing cream.
He smiled to himself. They clearly wanted this night to last a while, and he certainly hoped that it would.
He watched as the larger Leader set out various items and toys – all gentle, of course – and quietly left the Temple. His eyes glued to the empty hallway, the seated man frowned in confusion. He swept his eyes back to the remaining Leader and almost immediately, realization flowed into his mind. He would have this Leader only. The most powerful and difficult Leader to copulate would be his. A whimper of need escaped his throat as he reached out to touch the lips of the man kneeling in front of him. A smile and a puckering of the mouth were returned to him as the older man stood and took a step back.
He shed his clothes to reveal a fully erect member that, for this night, would belong to only one other.
Finally, it was his turn.