Four Jobs Lincoln Never Had
Title: Four Jobs Lincoln Never Had
Author: callmetofu
Rating: R
Warnings: non graphic incest, humor, non graphic bdsm, references to disturbing content
Beta: the amazing deadbeat_nymph
Summary: See title
1.
The elderly couple, Albert and Horace, looked like two excited school kids when they started gushing about their store. Lincoln quickly calculated just how long their vanity project would survive in this area. He gave them six months before it would completely drain their funds and they'd make their way off the field of business bawling their eyes out.
For the time being it was a nice job though, even if "store manager" mostly meant that he had to cross his arms and flex his biceps to scare off any punks who tried to be funny. He worked with one other employee, a 22-year-old goth girl with blue hair and three rings in her nose, who came in only part time and half of the time not even that.
The only real policy was that Albert and Horace stressed that he was supposed to give special demonstrations to customers in the changing area in the back only and only if they vowed to buy all the equipment that had been used. For the most part they were never seen, preferring instead to rush upstairs, with the biggest shit eating grins on their faces that Lincoln had ever seen.
Lincoln reduced his estimate to four months.
Besides, whatever got them off... At least it meant free range for visitors.
"Doesn't it bother you to sit around all day surrounded by fake cocks?" Derek asked sceptically, eying the contents of the shelves.
"Nope," he said and turned the page of his Guns and Glory magazine.
All in all, it looked like it could have been a good job.
It really would have been fine if Michael hadn't come around after hours one evening to congratulate him on completing his first week on a steady job. Or if Michael hadn't inspected the merchandise like it was a fascinating ancient bone collection at the museum. Especially if Derek hadn't slipped his arm around Michael's waist and jokingly hit on him.
Before they knew it they were double teaming Michael over the stretcher in Albert and Horace's secret back room. For special customers.
He really hadn't meant to fuck Michael, cross his heart, not even when Michael made those little noises sucking Derek's cock down his throat. He'd only meant to give him a good, hard spanking with the paddle to show him that sex toys really weren't something to be trifled with.
But, you know...
Actually it probably still would have been fine if Michael hadn't come around again the next night. If he hadn't sat down on Lincoln's counter with a slight wince. If he hadn't stripped off his shoes and placed his feet in Lincoln's lap.
If Lincoln hadn't moved to kiss him.
2.
The only time Lincoln allowed him to visit on the job was almost surreal. Lincoln with a dorky headset on his head rasping deeply into the receiver as he tried to break the high score on Cosmic Avenger 2. The whole room was alight with screams and moans as twelve men sat around a long kitchen table reading, writing, playing video games. An ancient fan whirred in the background, supplying the stale windowless room with a soft breeze. People shuffled their feet under the table. Scraps of conversation flew through the room.
"You want it? You really want it? Get down on your knees, pussy."
"I'm 5'9', 150 pounds. My friends say I'm good looking."
"Hi. My name Pedro."
"Yes, baby, gonna make you feel so good."
"Look Justin, it's alright to be gay. But you really should be telling your mom."
"I'm gonna breed you, whore, I'm gonna breed you good!"
"Yes, master. I'm looking at it right now, master."
"Jason, what kind of name is that? You dare call here you dirty faggot? You need me to come over to give you some discipline?"
"I'm licking your turd. Your big fat turd."
Next to Lincoln a salt and pepper haired man in his 50s lisped, "My wet, hungry hole is waiting for you. You are going to kill me with that huge man meat of yours. Nnnnnnng. No, please stop. I've never even shot before in my life. What if my dad finds out?"
"Oh yes, daddy, daddy, yes, daddy don't stop!"
Lincoln looked up and threw his headset on the table. "Wanna grab some lunch?"
3.
Lincoln pulled awkwardly at his collar.
"Hi, Sink!" Andy greeted him and high fived him in passing. He immediately regretted having told his coworkers his prison name. Sourly he pulled the tight white shorts out of his locker that went along with the equally tight white shirt, and slipped into his white flipflops.
God. Normally he didn't give a shit about what he looked like, but flipflops... that was just embarrassing. With his luck he had ended up in a mostly male massage parlor, his coworkers either students or well meaning queers that seemed to have adopted him as their personal mascot. All his possessions and appointments were marked "Tiny".
Still, he knew he shouldn't complain. The pay was decent and the tips particularly nice. Even if he still told everyone he knew that he was working a sales job out of town.
His ears perked up as a familiar voice approached.
He did what every sane person would do in his situation.
He hid behind a plant.
"It will do wonders for you, Michael, I promise."
Michael nodded, walking next to one of those slick, good looking business types that frequented the parlor after hours. The kind of economic studs that wanted champagne with their massages and tried to show off their balls by prattling around endlessly with their colleagues in the adjacent room. The man slid his arm around Michael's shoulder. "Make sure to ask for the special," he said and winked.
Lincoln skitted around the corner, grabbing the first person who came his way. "Gunter, I need a favor," he said seizing the other man's beefy arm.
"Yah?"
"I know my shift just started, but two guys just came in and I really need you to take this one."
Gunter nodded dimly.
"I'll make it up to you, bro."
Two steps in Lincoln realized that that would mean that Gunter would be alone with his naked baby brother. He changed his mind.
4.
He'd been following Lincoln for four hours now. Usually it took a long time before word got up to Michael, but this had been going on long enough to reach even him.
Lincoln...
Lincoln handing out too much weed. Lincoln with a new job that seemed to make him money. A job he didn't talk about. All this led to one conclusion: Lincoln in need of another saving from himself.
In the last few hours Lincoln had stopped by the gym, hung out at a friend's garage, visited a new girlfriend and stormed off in a huff. Now he was walking towards a nondescript warehouse style building.
Michael thrust his hand into his pockets. Waiting two minutes, he followed. He'd almost reached the door when a dark limousine stopped next to him. It spewed forth a crowd of amiably chatting men and women. Michael shirked back into the shadows.
"Erdragon," a man exclaimed a bit too loudly as they started banging on the door and were let in.
Michael resisted a grin and checked his clothes. Coming straight from a job interview, he fit in seamlessly with the crowd before him, all their men young, stylish and in black.
Just say the magic word and go down the rabbit hole.
They let him in without a hitch and he was led into a windowless dark chamber. One sole man sat in a booth between three doors.
"50 bucks an hour for a window show. 1000 for the real deal."
Michael froze -- can't blow my cover -- and then dug the bills out of his pocket. A winding staircase led up to a rotund gallery. All walls were covered with heavy red velvet. In separate booths velvet covered stools stood in front of narrow window slits. Not much effort had been made to create comfortable surroundings.
It just wasn't necessary.
The real action was down there.
He walked passed almost the entire gallery, picking an isolated booth near the end. He closed his eyes before sitting down. When he opened them again it sent a little shock through his system. Not because he hadn't expected to see this. No, because it was exactly, in every predictable detail, what one would have imagined.
It took him less than the blink of an eye to spot Lincoln, his brother down there, mingling with the other naked bodies. He was wearing nothing but a small black mask, but his tattoos, old, ugly prison work, stood out immediately to the spectator from above. A prickling excitement moved the air. Even the huge golden chandelier illuminating the scene playing out below seemed to swing along lazily.
A wide grin blazed across his brother's features and he even tossed the mask as he stood in a cycle of onlookers. With a throwaway move Lincoln gestured at a second man and after a round of overawing they were upon each other tumbling down in a violent wrestle.
Michael had to turn his eyes away.
Caught in a daze he rose and stumbled back down the stairs.
What are you doing here?
"You do know you have another 45 minutes."
He stopped, already half out of the door. Turned. Walked back.
"You want the full deal after all?"
What are you doing here?
Michael pulled his card out. Even though it'd been a long time since he'd starved, his mind automatically still calculated the sum into food. Rent. Electricity.
The man looked at him suspiciously, but took his card anyway and handed him a key. "Locker rooms and shower facilities are down the hallway to the right. No clothes are allowed inside. Fill out this form."
He slid a pink sheet of paper into Michael's direction and then continued to rattle down the list of rules. "If you are a top, register it with the moderator. If you intend to serve, carry yours with you at all times for your own protection as it contains your safe word and your don'ts. Players with black armbands are employees and are at your free disposal. Have you been tested?"
Michael blinked. "I'm clean."
The man in front of him sighed. "If you can provide us with current test results we will equip you with a yellow bandage to signal that you wish to penetrated without protection by other tested members. All our employees are tested regularly."
"I don't have a test. But I'm clean."
"Then I can't give you the band."
Michael tried his best to stare the man down. "I'm clean. And I intend to...catch." Quietly he pushed 200 over the counter.
The man coughed. He pulled open a drawer and handed a narrow yellow strip to Michael. Michael felt nauseous.
"We ask you to abstain from approaching any of our employees outside of this establishment. Refusal to do so will result in a permanent ban. If you wish to engage in a business relationship with one our employees we can get you in contact with their agents."
Michael was no longer listening, his own footsteps ringing in his ears as he walked down the dimly lit hallway.
Deleted Scenes:
1.
"So, does that mean that you'll be dating Derek from now on?"
Micheal smiled sweetly. "Your friend Derek is an ass."
"So am I."
"Yes, but you're my brother."
2.
Okay, he admitted it. Of course, he and his friends had to prank call Lincoln a couple of times.
"Yes, master Lincoln," they yelled in unison and exploded with laughter till they had tears in their eyes while Lincoln screamed at them over the line about the per minute costs.
It was totally worth it.
3.
"Are you coming?"
Michael looked up. "Is it normal that the masseur doesn't wait for a tip?"
Mitch frowned. "First time I ever heard of it."
Shrugging into his jacket, Michael let his gaze travel to the doorway that led back to the private rooms. Pensively he bit his lip. His hand twitched as he made his way back and he decided to drop two twenties.
4.
He woke up on his couch, his neck stiff, with a slave across his chest.
Reality set in.
He never should have brought him home. He had neither the money nor the temperament for a slave. Half the time he could barely take care of himself, how could anybody expect him to take care of a grown human being. Besides, Lincoln thought, looking down on the man in his arms, rubber had never been his scene. Not even 48 hours of mind blowing sex could change that.
His partner's breath went easily, a barely discernible rise and fall of his chest. Tentatively Lincoln ran his hand over the hood covered skull. It was an expensive design, no zippers, just smooth, elastic, black surface. He wondered how anybody could sleep with this still on. His hands slid lower and he found the transition into the chest piece right below the chin. The slave didn't stir from his sleep as clumsy fingers slipped under his mask.
He knew without a doubt that he shouldn't, it was the only boundary agreed on, the one forbidden zone of identity and privacy, but he'd never been good with rules. Rolling the mask up till under the nose he ran his thumb over the revealed rough from stubble cheek and kissed down on this stranger's lips. The body in his arms began to wake just barely, but the lips parted submissively. He slipped his tongue in just slightly, angling for the forbidden fruit, trying hard not to remember what he'd made this mouth taste and lick the last two days.
He pulled back and looked down on his partner. The lips were soft and pink like a girl's, slightly swollen from his kiss, strangely familiar to his touch. He immediately knew he had seen them before, had thought about them before.
It could only mean one thing.
Without realizing it he said it out loud, "Michael".
Author: callmetofu
Rating: R
Warnings: non graphic incest, humor, non graphic bdsm, references to disturbing content
Beta: the amazing deadbeat_nymph
Summary: See title
1.
The elderly couple, Albert and Horace, looked like two excited school kids when they started gushing about their store. Lincoln quickly calculated just how long their vanity project would survive in this area. He gave them six months before it would completely drain their funds and they'd make their way off the field of business bawling their eyes out.
For the time being it was a nice job though, even if "store manager" mostly meant that he had to cross his arms and flex his biceps to scare off any punks who tried to be funny. He worked with one other employee, a 22-year-old goth girl with blue hair and three rings in her nose, who came in only part time and half of the time not even that.
The only real policy was that Albert and Horace stressed that he was supposed to give special demonstrations to customers in the changing area in the back only and only if they vowed to buy all the equipment that had been used. For the most part they were never seen, preferring instead to rush upstairs, with the biggest shit eating grins on their faces that Lincoln had ever seen.
Lincoln reduced his estimate to four months.
Besides, whatever got them off... At least it meant free range for visitors.
"Doesn't it bother you to sit around all day surrounded by fake cocks?" Derek asked sceptically, eying the contents of the shelves.
"Nope," he said and turned the page of his Guns and Glory magazine.
All in all, it looked like it could have been a good job.
It really would have been fine if Michael hadn't come around after hours one evening to congratulate him on completing his first week on a steady job. Or if Michael hadn't inspected the merchandise like it was a fascinating ancient bone collection at the museum. Especially if Derek hadn't slipped his arm around Michael's waist and jokingly hit on him.
Before they knew it they were double teaming Michael over the stretcher in Albert and Horace's secret back room. For special customers.
He really hadn't meant to fuck Michael, cross his heart, not even when Michael made those little noises sucking Derek's cock down his throat. He'd only meant to give him a good, hard spanking with the paddle to show him that sex toys really weren't something to be trifled with.
But, you know...
Actually it probably still would have been fine if Michael hadn't come around again the next night. If he hadn't sat down on Lincoln's counter with a slight wince. If he hadn't stripped off his shoes and placed his feet in Lincoln's lap.
If Lincoln hadn't moved to kiss him.
2.
The only time Lincoln allowed him to visit on the job was almost surreal. Lincoln with a dorky headset on his head rasping deeply into the receiver as he tried to break the high score on Cosmic Avenger 2. The whole room was alight with screams and moans as twelve men sat around a long kitchen table reading, writing, playing video games. An ancient fan whirred in the background, supplying the stale windowless room with a soft breeze. People shuffled their feet under the table. Scraps of conversation flew through the room.
"You want it? You really want it? Get down on your knees, pussy."
"I'm 5'9', 150 pounds. My friends say I'm good looking."
"Hi. My name Pedro."
"Yes, baby, gonna make you feel so good."
"Look Justin, it's alright to be gay. But you really should be telling your mom."
"I'm gonna breed you, whore, I'm gonna breed you good!"
"Yes, master. I'm looking at it right now, master."
"Jason, what kind of name is that? You dare call here you dirty faggot? You need me to come over to give you some discipline?"
"I'm licking your turd. Your big fat turd."
Next to Lincoln a salt and pepper haired man in his 50s lisped, "My wet, hungry hole is waiting for you. You are going to kill me with that huge man meat of yours. Nnnnnnng. No, please stop. I've never even shot before in my life. What if my dad finds out?"
"Oh yes, daddy, daddy, yes, daddy don't stop!"
Lincoln looked up and threw his headset on the table. "Wanna grab some lunch?"
3.
Lincoln pulled awkwardly at his collar.
"Hi, Sink!" Andy greeted him and high fived him in passing. He immediately regretted having told his coworkers his prison name. Sourly he pulled the tight white shorts out of his locker that went along with the equally tight white shirt, and slipped into his white flipflops.
God. Normally he didn't give a shit about what he looked like, but flipflops... that was just embarrassing. With his luck he had ended up in a mostly male massage parlor, his coworkers either students or well meaning queers that seemed to have adopted him as their personal mascot. All his possessions and appointments were marked "Tiny".
Still, he knew he shouldn't complain. The pay was decent and the tips particularly nice. Even if he still told everyone he knew that he was working a sales job out of town.
His ears perked up as a familiar voice approached.
He did what every sane person would do in his situation.
He hid behind a plant.
"It will do wonders for you, Michael, I promise."
Michael nodded, walking next to one of those slick, good looking business types that frequented the parlor after hours. The kind of economic studs that wanted champagne with their massages and tried to show off their balls by prattling around endlessly with their colleagues in the adjacent room. The man slid his arm around Michael's shoulder. "Make sure to ask for the special," he said and winked.
Lincoln skitted around the corner, grabbing the first person who came his way. "Gunter, I need a favor," he said seizing the other man's beefy arm.
"Yah?"
"I know my shift just started, but two guys just came in and I really need you to take this one."
Gunter nodded dimly.
"I'll make it up to you, bro."
Two steps in Lincoln realized that that would mean that Gunter would be alone with his naked baby brother. He changed his mind.
4.
He'd been following Lincoln for four hours now. Usually it took a long time before word got up to Michael, but this had been going on long enough to reach even him.
Lincoln...
Lincoln handing out too much weed. Lincoln with a new job that seemed to make him money. A job he didn't talk about. All this led to one conclusion: Lincoln in need of another saving from himself.
In the last few hours Lincoln had stopped by the gym, hung out at a friend's garage, visited a new girlfriend and stormed off in a huff. Now he was walking towards a nondescript warehouse style building.
Michael thrust his hand into his pockets. Waiting two minutes, he followed. He'd almost reached the door when a dark limousine stopped next to him. It spewed forth a crowd of amiably chatting men and women. Michael shirked back into the shadows.
"Erdragon," a man exclaimed a bit too loudly as they started banging on the door and were let in.
Michael resisted a grin and checked his clothes. Coming straight from a job interview, he fit in seamlessly with the crowd before him, all their men young, stylish and in black.
Just say the magic word and go down the rabbit hole.
They let him in without a hitch and he was led into a windowless dark chamber. One sole man sat in a booth between three doors.
"50 bucks an hour for a window show. 1000 for the real deal."
Michael froze -- can't blow my cover -- and then dug the bills out of his pocket. A winding staircase led up to a rotund gallery. All walls were covered with heavy red velvet. In separate booths velvet covered stools stood in front of narrow window slits. Not much effort had been made to create comfortable surroundings.
It just wasn't necessary.
The real action was down there.
He walked passed almost the entire gallery, picking an isolated booth near the end. He closed his eyes before sitting down. When he opened them again it sent a little shock through his system. Not because he hadn't expected to see this. No, because it was exactly, in every predictable detail, what one would have imagined.
It took him less than the blink of an eye to spot Lincoln, his brother down there, mingling with the other naked bodies. He was wearing nothing but a small black mask, but his tattoos, old, ugly prison work, stood out immediately to the spectator from above. A prickling excitement moved the air. Even the huge golden chandelier illuminating the scene playing out below seemed to swing along lazily.
A wide grin blazed across his brother's features and he even tossed the mask as he stood in a cycle of onlookers. With a throwaway move Lincoln gestured at a second man and after a round of overawing they were upon each other tumbling down in a violent wrestle.
Michael had to turn his eyes away.
Caught in a daze he rose and stumbled back down the stairs.
What are you doing here?
"You do know you have another 45 minutes."
He stopped, already half out of the door. Turned. Walked back.
"You want the full deal after all?"
What are you doing here?
Michael pulled his card out. Even though it'd been a long time since he'd starved, his mind automatically still calculated the sum into food. Rent. Electricity.
The man looked at him suspiciously, but took his card anyway and handed him a key. "Locker rooms and shower facilities are down the hallway to the right. No clothes are allowed inside. Fill out this form."
He slid a pink sheet of paper into Michael's direction and then continued to rattle down the list of rules. "If you are a top, register it with the moderator. If you intend to serve, carry yours with you at all times for your own protection as it contains your safe word and your don'ts. Players with black armbands are employees and are at your free disposal. Have you been tested?"
Michael blinked. "I'm clean."
The man in front of him sighed. "If you can provide us with current test results we will equip you with a yellow bandage to signal that you wish to penetrated without protection by other tested members. All our employees are tested regularly."
"I don't have a test. But I'm clean."
"Then I can't give you the band."
Michael tried his best to stare the man down. "I'm clean. And I intend to...catch." Quietly he pushed 200 over the counter.
The man coughed. He pulled open a drawer and handed a narrow yellow strip to Michael. Michael felt nauseous.
"We ask you to abstain from approaching any of our employees outside of this establishment. Refusal to do so will result in a permanent ban. If you wish to engage in a business relationship with one our employees we can get you in contact with their agents."
Michael was no longer listening, his own footsteps ringing in his ears as he walked down the dimly lit hallway.
Deleted Scenes:
1.
"So, does that mean that you'll be dating Derek from now on?"
Micheal smiled sweetly. "Your friend Derek is an ass."
"So am I."
"Yes, but you're my brother."
2.
Okay, he admitted it. Of course, he and his friends had to prank call Lincoln a couple of times.
"Yes, master Lincoln," they yelled in unison and exploded with laughter till they had tears in their eyes while Lincoln screamed at them over the line about the per minute costs.
It was totally worth it.
3.
"Are you coming?"
Michael looked up. "Is it normal that the masseur doesn't wait for a tip?"
Mitch frowned. "First time I ever heard of it."
Shrugging into his jacket, Michael let his gaze travel to the doorway that led back to the private rooms. Pensively he bit his lip. His hand twitched as he made his way back and he decided to drop two twenties.
4.
He woke up on his couch, his neck stiff, with a slave across his chest.
Reality set in.
He never should have brought him home. He had neither the money nor the temperament for a slave. Half the time he could barely take care of himself, how could anybody expect him to take care of a grown human being. Besides, Lincoln thought, looking down on the man in his arms, rubber had never been his scene. Not even 48 hours of mind blowing sex could change that.
His partner's breath went easily, a barely discernible rise and fall of his chest. Tentatively Lincoln ran his hand over the hood covered skull. It was an expensive design, no zippers, just smooth, elastic, black surface. He wondered how anybody could sleep with this still on. His hands slid lower and he found the transition into the chest piece right below the chin. The slave didn't stir from his sleep as clumsy fingers slipped under his mask.
He knew without a doubt that he shouldn't, it was the only boundary agreed on, the one forbidden zone of identity and privacy, but he'd never been good with rules. Rolling the mask up till under the nose he ran his thumb over the revealed rough from stubble cheek and kissed down on this stranger's lips. The body in his arms began to wake just barely, but the lips parted submissively. He slipped his tongue in just slightly, angling for the forbidden fruit, trying hard not to remember what he'd made this mouth taste and lick the last two days.
He pulled back and looked down on his partner. The lips were soft and pink like a girl's, slightly swollen from his kiss, strangely familiar to his touch. He immediately knew he had seen them before, had thought about them before.
It could only mean one thing.
Without realizing it he said it out loud, "Michael".