Fresh starts. They're only good for one thing—muddled endings. Which, if you're me, that's a really bad omen.

When I got that mysterious phone call with the deep, sexy voice on the end of it, I figured it was high time I got out and lived a little. Well, you can consider it mysterious. If you categorize telemarketer calls mysterious. I know I do. After all, you never can predict what they're trying to sell, can you? Therefore you have an unknown. I don't like unknowns. Unknowing leads to uncertainty. And if you're uncertain about something, you should take your time. Or maybe rush into them.

I'm not good about taking time either. Time isn't kind to me. It's always running too fast or too slow, never the right speed. Never the right consistency. It's unpredictable: a lot like telemarketer calls.

So, with the whole time-and-ruined-fresh-starts thing... That's why my current situation is the way it is. We'd planned this damned date for the past month and a half. Figures it goes wrong. Absolutely fucking wrong.

It starts out with Dominick getting reservations at one of those top-dollar restaurants—the ones where you practically sacrifice both your arms, and half of your left foot just to get in, sit down for a few minutes and sample the dishwater soup. He said it was time that we got serious and did something sentimental. Pfft, like all those good fucks weren't sentimental enough? Commitment. There's another thing to add to my shit list.

That reservation was made a month in advance. And that meant I had one month to figure out what I was going to wear. I didn't own a single fucking tux. Not a one. I decided to call him and tell him. He told me not to worry, he had it covered. Which meant he bought the tux. A white one. His was black.

“Can't we be normal?” After seeing my tuxedo I was exasperated. I remember wanting to rip my hair out, strand by strand.

“Oh come on!” He laughed, “When have you ever been normal, Beau?”

Since I was too mad to see straight, I ended the conversation. And tore my calendar up just for telling me there was only a week left until dinner-date night.

Oh, we had more arguments about it, believe me. To say I suffered in silence would be lying and to say he didn't notice would also be lying. He couldn't let me be, so of course I blew up in his face every damn time.

Sometimes I got upset and cried, because this wasn't how I wanted to treat my relationship with Dominick. I was a stupid drunken fool, and he was a saint for putting up with me. I always treated him like garbage and I liked to throw my problems in his face while a cowered in a corner and licked my wounds. One time he asked me whether I love the alcohol I drank more than I love him; when I told him yes, I slept on the couch that night, freezing my ass off because he said I could get up and get my own damned blanket. What he meant was, I don't have any extras, so freeze, jerk.

That's why you shouldn't ask drunk people those sorts of questions when they can't comprehend. I really wonder whether he sets me up to make mistakes just because he's addicted to getting hurt. Which reminded me.

“Do you like pain?” So.. I hadn't planned to be so tactless, but you know how it is when your mouth is two steps ahead of your rationality.

His eyebrows went up and he took a sip of his wine. We were immersed in the appetizer, biding our time before another one of our arguments ruined the night. He leaned over the table and hissed at me in what I categorized as an angry whisper, “Beau, this is hardly the place.”

“Hardly the place?” I wiped my mouth with my napkin and took a minute to look around the luxurious, five-star restaurant. Which, besides Dominick and I, served two other tables. “There's no one even here.”

He shot me a stern look and continued eating. Hardass, I thought. Count on Dominick over there to be king of irrational moments. As we ate in silence—I was too pissed off even to offer a neutral, pleasant topic of conversation and so was he—I realized the night was ruined. And then I continued to mope because when he was angry, I usually couldn't get him to have sex with me. Not that all I wanted out of him was sex. It's good, mind-blowing sex is all. If he could only learn to orgasm off his anger, we'd be a better functioning couple, honestly.

While I was lost in the idiotic banter of my own mind, he chose to grace me with an answer to my earlier question.

“Yes. I do. Satisfied?” I choked on my Risotto. Satisfied?! What kind of question is that? I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to free myself of the problem between my legs. “Do you?” He asked me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Ehhhh...” I shoved a heaping forkful of Risotto in my mouth and mumbled, “Look under the table.”

A genuinely confused expression spread across his face as he lifted up the tablecloth and looked under the table like I had asked him. Faster than a field mouse he shot back up in his chair, stock-straight, and avoided eye contact. Silence. Oh, fuck the silence.

“This, ah, Risotto is pretty good... How's your fillet?” Smalltalk is the key to any confusing, awkward silences. It works every time.

“It's fantastic. You, um...” He halted in cutting his food. “Umm, you wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you'd never ask.” I sighed in relief and slid into my long overcoat, which was thankfully long and bulky enough to conceal my 'problem'. Apparently, so was Dominick's. I threw a twenty on the table for a tip, Dominick paid, and we were out of that restaurant before you could blink an eye.

Call it my cheap nature or mild inconvenience, but we'd chosen to walk the eleven blocks to the restaurant. Hell, it was a nice evening and walking is healthy. Besides, it isn't like driving would have done any good in New York. Angry, chauvinist drivers tended to bring out Dominick's bad side. You see now, why we avoided them?

I could tell he was horribly uncomfortable, it was in the way he walked—yeah, it was dramatic and only done to make me impatient, but call me the fuckhead here, because it worked. The four-star hotel on the fourth block flashed our names in practical neon signs, so it was only common sense to walk inside, get two rooms—Dominick liked to avoid scrutiny—and get upstairs as quickly as possible. And when we'd gotten to the fifth floor, we didn't even use the second room. In his ridiculous lust-rage, Dominick had already gotten both my coat and tie off before the door was even two inches open. I guess the security guards watching the cameras were going to see some mysterious entertainment. Dominick continued—and succeeded in—shredding my clothes off, and then finally shoved me roughly onto the king-sized bed. I laid back and sighed, feeling used because it figured that Dominick wouldn't even bother taking his own clothes off. I always had to do it for him, or it never happened.

I lifted my head to look for him and found him sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, off in a corner. He was watching me intently; lust-fire burned behind his eyes like a raging forest inferno. I knew what he wanted, he knew that I knew what he wanted, and, more importantly, he knew what he wanted. And he wanted it bad. But it was always more exciting to ignore him, and pay the attention to myself. So I grabbed ahold of my erection and got to work.

That very same instant I heard a soft moan leave Dominick's lips, and I lifted an eyelid to look over at him as I moved up and down, holding back my own moans and grunts. He was still fully clothed, his large hands clasped around the chair's arms for life and death, biting his lower lip with unbelievable force. Taking full advantage of the situation—and loving it—I threw my head back into the soft pillows of the bed and continued to touch myself, my back arching in pure arousal as I grunted loudly and without shame. Sweat beaded at my forehead and turned my hair into a dampened curtain over my glazed eyes. My movements picked up in speed and ferocity when I saw Dominick leave his chair and quickly reach the bed where he grabbed my hands and forced then to my sides, pinning me there with his strength. “None of that, now.” He grinned at me wickedly and I shivered against the cold leather of his jacket when it swept across my bare chest. Tonight was going to be excellent, I could smell it, see it, feel it. It was in Dominick's smile. It was real. “Do be a doll and help with these damnable clothes.. please?”

I was only too compliant, my hands reaching shakily for the collar of his jacket so I might slip it off his shoulders. I pulled my legs out from between his knees and got on my own knees in front of him, as he eased himself out of his jacket and let it fall carelessly to the ground. “The shirt...”

He really didn't need to remind me, but I was shaking too much and thinking too deliriously to function properly. Oh, this night was going to excellent indeed. He had since removed his tuxedo jacket, and I began fast work on his tie before moving onto the stupid plastic buttons of his undershirt. Which I'd all but ripped off, ruining six of the buttons in irrational haste, driven by the ache of my cock. “Good boy,” he muttered into my ear at a whisper, “now about that belt... And these restricting pants...” I seized his belt and undid the buckle while he traced a finger around my right nipple and drove my nerves insane. Fresh sweat broke out on my forehead before I had the belt safely from around his hips and could get started on his pants. “Almost there...” he said as his finger left my chest.

I didn't waste any time in relieving him of his 'restricting' pants, and had them off at a much faster speed than I did any of his other garments. He had not been wearing any boxers.

“Hmm,” he purred, forcing me down onto my back. “you'd look dashing with a collar encompassing your throat...”

“No more dashing than you would look gagged.” It didn't matter that he hated back-talk. The more I could irritate him, the better this would be. And thankfully, I knew all of the right buttons to press.

He smirked and clicked his tongue, “Really now? I'm short on collars at the moment.. this,” he said, reaching over the side of the bed, “will have to do for now.” I looked over to see the belt grasped firmly in his hand. “Give me your hands.” And I did; of course I did. I held my hands out, wrists together, and waited as Dominick fastened the belt around them and drew it shut, leaving it tight enough that I wouldn't be able to wriggle out of it. He forced the metal pin of the buckle straight through the strong leather, creating a makeshift belt hole. I gulped. “Forget the belt,” he grinned. “It looks better on you anyway.”

The way Dominick looked at me, his eyes roaming with calculated lust, sizing me up for the attack. A muscle flexed in his arm, his breathing made his chest rise and fall at a near anxious tempo, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. A predator on the prowl, undeniably ready to make his kill. And I was his prey.

I reveled in it. He took my bound hands and brought them behind his neck all the while instructing me to hold on. From his pants, which hung off the end of the bed sloppily, he withdrew a clear bottle, which he opened and let some of the pungent liquid fall onto his fingers. Now, we can get to the good part.

“Relax,” he said, lowering his soft lips to mine. I breathed in sharply when I felt his slick fingers find my opening and slip inside; his lips never leaving my own. My hips bucked against him and I moaned into his mouth, wishing he would stop moving his fingers and just take me already.

“Just do me,” I said through gritted teeth. “I need you now.”

Dominick laughed, “Bring your legs up, then.” I did as I was told and watched him intently as he applied the same oil onto his sex. When he finished, he nodded in approval. “What would I do if you didn't take orders so well?”

“You'd fuck someone else.” I said flatly. He rewarded me with another laugh.

“Not a chance. I guess I'd just force you to submit,” his eyes glittered, daring me to do it.

“Then force me,” I smiled dangerously and lowered my legs. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his eyes still glittering with that threatening lust-fire. My own desire reminded me that I was being foolish, but I loved prolonging the moment—driving him to his limits excited me to the very core. He growled again and grabbed my legs, pushing them up gently but firmly, and lunged forward to place his mouth on mine, pushing his tongue inside my mouth. I trembled when he braced himself and then mounted me. He thrust forward fiercely, and I saw stars—my fingers tangled in his hair and I pulled his head back to take a much needed breath. When his hands left my thighs, I held them there by myself, not willing to be disobedient at this point. I was too fucking far-gone for that.

Dominick began to thrust harder, at a quicker pace and grabbed the headboard for support. Using his other hand, he grabbed my erection and brought his hand up and down in the same rhythm as his thrusts. “I need it harder,” I gasped in between pants and moans—I wasn't even able to distinguish between the two any longer. “Harder!” I panted.

“You're eager tonight, pet.” My eyes found his and my lips curled over my teeth a naughty smile, one I hoped would encourage him.

“I love the animal sex brings out of you,” he continued stroking and pushing deeper inside.

“Hmm,” he growled, “keep going.” Dominick bent his head and licked at my left nipple; he halted for a moment in his thrusting. “What do you want?”

I answered by pushing myself up onto him and digging my nails into his back. “This...” I was panting, and moving myself against him, on him.

“How bad?” he whispered into my ear and squeezed my cock gently. I would've told him, except for the fact that I didn't want to please him, didn't want to just give him a straight answer. If I were rebellious to his orders and refused him, he'd do what I wanted—taunting words aside. So I did the only fucking thing I knew how to do when he had me panting beneath him. I smiled disobedience right into his wicked, grinning face.

“Not much,” I was smiling. He took his hand from my erection and placed it on my mouth as he thrust forward viciously. Good thing too; had his hand not been there, I would've moaned loud enough to stir the entire city. And for the second time that night, I saw stars.

This is exactly what happens when I either don't watch enough yaoi, or I watch too much of it. Whether that's a good thing or not is entirely up to you. I certainly enjoyed writing this one.. I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much ;]

Love,
Shakkaku :D