Fic: Desperation
Title: Desperation
Author: jeck7 and worlddescending
Pairing: Brandon (Shame) / Ken (Magic Mike)
Rating: NC-17
A/N: We wrote this before Magic Mike actually came out, so some facts will be left out (like a wife, heh).
Summary: When he goes to a bar to seek out an easy, no-strings encounter, Brandon gets more than he expects.
Wordcount: ~6600
Disclaimer: these characters do not belong to us; no profit is made.
The bar was full of women. And it was full of women who would be ready to take any cock they could find.
Brandon sat at the bar, faced away from the stage, nursing a cheap beer and he waited. The cheering was jarring, sharp and loud, women screeching.
Strippers made even the most demure woman risque, it seemed.
When it got particularly loud, he turned,for a glance and stopped, staring.
The dancer was lean with a kind of good looks that would make him successful in many fields. And even from where he sat, Brandon could see blue eyes.
The women loved him, reaching for him with dollar bills waving.
He seemed to love them back, or, at least, loved the attention. The music was booming and he moved with it, grinning wide, arms out, muscles oiled and then Ken was slowly rolling his hips.
Wryly, Brandon thought that there was something in loving one's job.
He of course didn't know what that was. He was good at his job. Excellent even. But he took no satisfaction from it. He knew few people who smiled like the living Ken doll smiled.
The living Ken doll was now walking down the ramp, his eyes scanning the crowd and when they fell on someone, the cheers got louder. That only made him grin even wider, dimples deep, the shirt he wore the first to come off with a flourish.
Brandon turned away. He was here for the women, not the men. That night he fucked a blond in her Volvo.
He was back the next night, this time, at the end of the strippers' night, just wanting the women. The women were streaming out around him.
He might as well have a beer. There would be someone, surely.
That someone ended up being Ken in the living flesh, dressed this time, taking the seat next to him and ordering a beer. The women still flocked and he'd grin and wave. One bouncer kept them at bay.
Looking at him sidelong, Brandon raised his own bottle, then looked away. "You have your evening's entertainment waiting."
"Really?" The Ken doll turned on the barstool, his knee touching Brandon's and he cocked his head, raising his beer bottle to him, too. "And how long have you been waiting?"
"I just got here," Brandon answered, unsure what was meant by that. "To capitalize on your hard work." Lest the man think he was here for him.
He was, and his gaze that dragged over Brandon's body would tell him that. Ken then looked around, seeing the women still a bit rowdy and amped up and he shrugged. "Maybe I can capitalize on my hard work." Not on the women. But on him. "And you can get something out of it, too. I don't see them coming over here." He pointed over his shoulder.
Brandon's surprise showed on his face. He looked away again. "It doesn't work like that."
"Why not?" Ken took a swig of his beer before leaning in a lot closer to Brandon. "I suck dick like I dance and strip … like no one's business." He pulled back and gave Brandon one of those wide, bright grins.
There was a throb of heat in Brandon's groin. He drained his beer and turned to look at all the women still lingering. The fat ones, the desperate ones.
It was less than inspiring.
He glanced over at Ken again and away, speaking almost as if to the bartender. "I drive the BMW." Then he slid from the seat and headed for the door. It was just a blowjob.
Ken followed him with his eyes, then he looked at the bartender, too, shrugging. He took a generous gulp of his beer before he was walking to the back, taking that way to head outside.
He found the BMW soon enough, hands in his pockets, head cocked, grinning.
The passenger side door opened. Brandon looked at Ken as he started the engine. They'd drive around the corner.
He got in, settled, hand landing on Brandon's thigh. He turned his head to watch Brandon's profile, to watch as his jaw clenched. It made Ken smile.
Brandon removed the hand and put the car into gear. He stopped it two blocks over, putting the car back in park and killing the engine. Then he looked over at Ken, the darkness perhaps hiding the deadness in his eyes. He leaned his seat back, a hand on his own thigh.
Guess it was going to be as impersonal as time with a two-bit whore. Ken reached for his belt buckle, slow to open that, the back of his hand already teasing between Brandon's legs. He parted the flaps of his pants once opened, grabbing the edge, urging him to push it off.
Brandon lifted, just enough to give access to what was needed, his face focused out the window. He wasn't gay. His cock was half-hard against his belly.
When Ken saw that long, delicious looking cock he chuckled softly, sounding pleased. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked, coaxing it to hardness, face turned up to look at Brandon. With a disappointed sounding sigh he ducked his head, then his lips closed around the head, tongue swirling over the slit.
Silent, Brandon's eyes fell closed, a hand landing on the Ken doll's head. Fuck.
He was good at sucking cock, inching slowly down, lips clamped, then sucking, cheeks hollowed as he pulled back out. Ken knew to suck cock better than he could gyrate his hips. He showed Brandon. Made him feel.
Even when he got closer to coming, Brandon was silent, breathing through clenched teeth, his body tightening, muscles cording.
He'd had a lot of blowjobs. This was, he had to admit, one of the best ones.
Brandon may be more quiet than Ken was used to but the didn't matter. Over his tongue he could feel him, in his hand as he cupped his balls, he could feel it. The man was close and so he worked his lips, his tongue his mouth harder, deeper, almost gagging at his long length, feeling him deep in his throat that Ken groaned louder than Brandon ever did, his dick so hard now, too.
He needed to be quiet. Brandon's hand tightened in his hair the closer he came, until he was all but shoving the man down on his cock, holding him there as he started to come, breath choking out.
He wasn't the only one choking because Ken could barely breathe, inhaling through his nose as he swallowed both long cock and warm come. Brandon's taste made him tremble, and the feel of that dick in his mouth, fucking amazing. So what if he'd choke to death. RIght now, Ken didn't care.
When he came down, Brandon used his grip to pull the guy back, chest still heaving to breathe. "I'll drive you back," he said.
Ken was slow to straighten up, wiping at his mouth, come dribbling down the corner of his lips, his tongue peeking to lick at it. He smiled, wide, dimple-deep at Brandon before he leaned back. "Mind if I relieve myself right here?" He was already trying to pulling his dick out.
"Yes," Brandon said, expression dark. "I do." It was leather and he didn't want to have to clean it. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb to drive the two blocks back to the club.
Ken looked over, obviously deflating but he pulled a smile directed at Brandon anyway. "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me." Voice devoid of any emotion as he sat back down.
Back in front of the bar, Brandon fished out his wallet and held out a twenty. For Ken's troubles. It wasn't as if they would ever interact again, was it? Of course not.
"You're fucking kidding, right?" Ken looked between the money and then Brandon, his face unreadable. "If it was that good, you know where to find me." He didn't take the money. Ken opened the door and let himself out, walking back toward the club without another backward glance.
No money given? Free, then.
Brandon drove away, home.
Sissy arrived the next day and that made Brandon's life more complicated than he wanted to think about. That - no other reason - was why he went to the bar again. It wasn't Ken.
It wasn't.
But he sat at the bar with a beer and he listened to the music.
Ken was at a corner table with some of the other dancers. They've all done their set and right now it was just music, dancing for those who wanted it and drinking. He downed the rest of his beer, getting up to grab another round for everyone.
Brandon didn't turn around when people came to and went from the bar. There wasn't a point to it. He was waiting for a sign of availability, that was all.
"Well look who's back?" Ken said just as he leaned against the bar, upnodding at the bartender and asking for several beers. He turned to Brandon again. "Here for more?"
Cutting a look at him, Brandon shook his head, holding up his beer. That was what he was here for, or so he would say. Though his eyes lingered on Ken's mouth; it was a good mouth.
It was an excellent mouth. Ken licked around his lips before grinning. "Suit yourself." He pointed to the table across the room. "I'll be right there if you change your mind." Then Ken sauntered, yes, sauntered back to his friends, beers in hand.
Why would Brandon change his mind? He was straight and there were women everywhere.
Which didn't at all explain how his hand was on Ken's head again, an hour later in the car around the block. How his head was back, eyes closed as that mouth took him down nearly all the way.
Ken's new goal in life was deep throating this very long cock. And maybe get it to fuck him. Hard. The thought made him moan around his mouthful, the vibrations he could feel moving along that cock slipping in and out of his mouth.
The way this mouth worked made Brandon tighten his grip in that hair. It made him rock his hips up just as he pushed Ken down. If that was the stripper's goal, Brandon, in this way, would help.
Seems there was life in him, and Ken took the hint, he moved lower, gagging, pulling back, mouth wet. He did it again, deeper each time, letting those hands move him, show him what it was that Brandon really wanted.
Most women weren't this willing; Brandon noted that as well. And when he came, it was hard, too. He still didn't let Ken jerk off in his car.
It wasn't until the third time they were together that he even offered to jerk the other man off. Outside the car, hard and fast, not looking at him as he did.
But Ken took the given opportunity and made the most of it. He jerked his hips into Brandon's hand, leaning with his back against the car, his face painted in ecstasy. When he came it was explosive, groaning low while biting his lip, eyes shut tight. After he came he looked hazily up at Brandon, grinning that Ken doll grin of his.
Which Brandon only saw from the corner of his eye as he was walking back toward the driver's seat of his car. There was a towel in the backseat he would wipe his hand on.
The fourth time - which wasn't supposed to happen - found them behind his car, Ken bent over the trunk as Brandon fucked him, hard.
Ken was grunting, body pitched forward with each hard thrust, palms flat on the cool trunk of the car so he could get more resistance, to push back. "Yeah ... fuck ... oh fuck, yes!" Brandon felt better than he had imagined.
It wasn't like being with a woman. It was tight, hot and Brandon was gritting his teeth, hissing, fingers tight around narrow hips, biting in to leave marks.
Not that Ken would mind marks. Fuck! He'd rather have them like a memento. He lifted up, his back pressed to Brandon's chest and the angle hit just right that he moaned and writhed, a hand grabbing back to hold on to Brandon's hip. "Yessss!"
A hand clamped around the back of Ken's neck, pushing him back down. Too much contact. But Brandon kept his hand there, then, using the grip to pull the man back on his dick. He was going to come.
"Oh, fuck!" Ken really shouldn't like this but he did, his cock getting harder between his legs that he reached for it, stroking fast and wild. He groaned, clenching deep because he was going to come, too, body beginning to tremble.
The only real noise Brandon made when he was coming was a soft "ah" noise, then he was staying there for the clench, for the extra sensitization of the clamp around his cock. His hand was still tight around the back of Ken's neck.
Ken's face was pressed to the trunk of the car and he couldn't move. He gasped right there, heat of his breath fogging the shiny finish, jerking his cock a few more times before he was coming with a groan all over the bumper.
He'd make the man clean it up. Brandon groaned at the clench first, then pushed out, condom dropped to the ground. He was already reaching to pull his pants up.
Fuck. He needed to recover for a bit. His ass was just pounded on. Ken turned his head and, still, Bradon wouldn't even look at him. He sighed softly, then straightened up with a groan, pulling his own pants up to put them on.
They fixed themselves quietly.
It should have ended then.
Brandon even stayed away for weeks. For a month. He dealt with Sissy, dealt with the drama that came with having his sister in his home.
But it built up again, the pressure, pounding in his head, in the bottom of his belly. It tightened his hands, the muscles in his shoulders.
It brought him to the bar at closing time, jaw set, eyes dark.
The lights outside slowly flickered then turned off. One by one the people inside started to file out. Ken was among them, laughing at something before his eyes fell on Brandon. His smile didn't fade. It grew. He excused himself and approached.
"Where?" Was the only question that Ken asked.
Brandon turned on his heel to lead the way out. There was a motel a few hundred feet away, the kind that charged by the hour. Brandon paid for two and took the key, letting them into the room and locking the door behind them both. "Strip," he ordered, amending it. "Make it slow."
Ken wasn't sure if that scared him or turned him on. He put his bag down on the floor and then he stood in the middle of the room. He kept his eyes on Brandon as he moved without music, taking it slow as he unbuttoned his shirt, eyes only on Brandon as he parted the material, exposing skin.
He was both, Ken decided, turned on by being just that tad bit scared.
Brandon sat on the edge of the bed, watching, face somehow impassive even as his eyes watched every move.
He didn't need music or fancy dance moves. This was a slow strip tease with Ken moving his body to better show it off. Once he was in nothing but boxer briefs he stood in front of Brandon, tugging them off and letting them fall on the ground.
Ken was hard already, cock a proud arch jutting from his body. He reached over to Brandon so that Ken could strip him of his clothes.
His hands were shoved away. Brandon stood up, gesturing to the bed. "Get yourself ready." He took his own clothes off, folding them neatly on a chair. His cock was hard too, red. He slicked on a rubber.
Ken grabbed lube from his bag, slicked his fingers, then he laid down on his back. He parted his legs wide, lewd, facing Brandon as he pushed two fingers inside him. He made quick work of it, but his eyes never left Brandon's still expressionless face.
Brandon gestured. "Turn over." He didn't need to look at the man's face. Then he knelt on the bed, even helping him move, cock dragging along Ken's thigh.
It was worth a try. Ken was on his stomach, hard cock pinned under him, looking over his shoulder, watching Brandon closely. He lifted his ass up, offering it to him. "Come on ... fuck me."
Wasting no time, Brandon pushed in in one long stroke, not stopping until his hips pressed Ken deeper into the bed. Then he held his weight with one hand and started to fuck in hard and fast.
That this was exactly what he needed didn't bear thinking on.
Already this position made things way too tight but still Brandon pounded into him that he was jostled on the bed. Ken grabbed on the the sheets, hand fisted and tugging just to have something to hold on to. He moaned, loving the pleasure-pain, sound muffled as Ken pressed his face to the sheets.
Brandon shoved, holding tight enough, fucking hard enough to leave bruises on both of them. It hurt, nearly and that was the point: he couldn't do this with a woman. Pulled Ken back on his dick as he pushed forward, teeth clenched.
Ken could barely keep his eyes open, he could hardly breathe. He moved back to meet each hard thrust because he couldn't seem to get enough. He reached between his legs, rubbing his hard cock, then lower, feeling right where Brandon was fucking into him and he moaned.
Just as before, Brandon's hand wrapped around the back of Ken's neck to keep him in place, to give him leverage to fuck in deeper, to exert his control. The slam of his hips was punishingly hard. His head fell back.
"Fuck!" Ken gripped his dick and pumped his hand, riding the pleasure and the pain that mixed into something so much more. He groaned against the sheets, body shaking, taking each one of Brandon's punishing thrusts.
The closer, though, Brandon came to coming, the slower, he moved, dragging it out, riding that edge, his whole body tense, muscles standing out in contrast. So close. So close ….
Ken writhed under him, his moans close to begging, whimpering for more, please, fuck he needed to come but this felt so fucking good. But he kept pushing back, pushing back, chasing after that slowing cock for more.
Finally, Brandon's orgasm wouldn't be denied. He shoved in and felt it hit him; he grunted, thrusting through it, long, deep strokes. He was taking, selfish, telling himself he didn't care if Ken came or not.
He was close but not quite there. Once Brandon stilled, Ken, ass still pushed up, rocking his hips on that dick still inside him, he pumped his fist, jerking off quickly, grunting into the sheets as he came quietly and with a shudder. "Fuck!"
Feeling the respite from that pressure that had been building was such a relief that Brandon was slow to pull out, a hand in the small of Ken's back. He took one deep breath, then another, rocking back onto his haunches as he discarded the condom.
Ken was slow to move, his body feeling deliciously abused. He groaned as he rolled to his side on the bed, his eyes finding Brandon, watching him. It was like waiting for something to happen, some sign of life he knew would like not come but he still managed a bright, and quite satisfied smile. "Lie down," he urged, patting the space beside him. "Then we'll do that again."
They had 90 minutes of the two hours left. Brandon though, looked at the bed and shook his head. Who knew what lived in those sheets. He stayed where he was. "Why do you do it?" He asked, referring to the stripping.
Propping himself with a hand under his chin, still on his side, unabashed, obviously, about his nakedness, Ken looked at Brandon with a grin. "The ones, the fives, the occasional twenties." His eyes though, spoke differently, wishing, hoping Brandon would move closer. "The dancing is fun, the screamed admiration, too ... the lust in their eyes."
"From women whom you have no interest in," Brandon noted. "So you do it for the money and your ego."
Ken stretched out in the bed, in all his nakedness, still smiling. "I just look perfect, but I'm not." It was fact, not conceited, not really. "The women have a good time. They let loose in a way they usually couldn't or wouldn't. I am their fantasy and that's what I give them."
"How generous of you," Brandon told him, eyes dead. "And then they go home to their less-than-fantasy lives and are disappointed."
He shook his head. "It's an escape. They get to get out of the same old, same old. Out of their heads and they sit there, they yell and dance and participate," Ken smiled, "and for the next few hours they enjoy themselves. They have fun .. and I have fun watching that, while escaping, too, doing what I do."
"Escaping from what?" Asking this, Brandon shifted to sit, otherwise, entirely still.
"The mundane, the everyday." Ken shrugged, shifting a little to get a bit closer. "Kind of like you, right now. With me? That's it isn't it?" He cocked his head, his eyes bright and alert fixed on Brandon. "Feel free to tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong." Brandon didn't move, taking in the movements with a sharp gaze. It was far more complicated than this man would even imagine. Finally, he looked away, out the cloudy window.
"If I'm wrong, then what is it?" Ken crawled over slowly. "Why did you come looking for me?"
That was a dangerous question. Brandon's eyes narrowed as he looked out at the street. "What makes you think I came to find you?"
"Because," Now Brandon was within easy reach and what Ken reached for was his dick. "... you always do ..." He started to stroke that cock, eyes fixed on Brandon. "...so I can do this …" Then he ducked his head and closed his mouth around Brandon's cock.
When his hand closed in Ken's hair, Brandon was half-tempted to pull away, but he didn't. He leaned back instead, eyes in slits as he watched, cock hardening slowly in Ken's mouth.
He fucked the stripper again before their two hours was up.
When Brandon came again, his face was cut up, eyes defeated. Sissy was in the hospital and Brandon sat outside the bar in his car. He didn't know what else to do where else to go.
This time when Ken walked out of the club, he saw the car and the shadowy figure of Brandon inside. Without word he climbed in the car and sat back, looking at Brandon, giving him that bright-eyed smile.
Brandon's head was down, hand tight on the wheel. He didn't pull out right away, either, whispering, as if searching for the words, "I'm - my sister's in the hospital."
Welll that wiped the smile off Ken's face and he reached out with a hand on Brandon's arm. "Is she all right?" His brows were drawn, staring at Brandon. "Are you?"
He didn't even pull away. Brandon looked over at Ken, showing off the cuts and bruises, the pain he didn't bother trying to mask, even as he didn't say a word.
For a long time Ken stared at Brandon and then he gave a nod, his hand still on his arm. "Let's go." Anywhere he wanted to go. Anything he wanted to do. Ken would be there. For him.
Not back to his apartment with the blood all over the floor. Not back to the hotel that charged by the hour.
Brandon drove to one that had valets, that took his car away and he used his gold AmEx card to pay without a thought.
They were let into a white room with silver features. Bare, clean, like Brandon's external life before Sissy barged back in.
Once inside Ken didn't hesitate. He stood in front of Brandon and he slowly pushed his coat off. This was probably the very first time that Ken stood this close, close enough to see the specks of color in Brandon's eyes. He stayed quiet while he took the rest of Brandon's clothes off.
As he stood still, unresisting, Brandon watched, eyes following Ken's actions. When he was naked, he was still too, cock only half hard as it rested against his thigh.
Ken wrapped his hand around Brandon's cock, stroking slowly while he turned his head to press his lips to his cheek. It was quick, fleeting, and then he was on his knees, looking up just as he took that cock in his mouth.
There was a beauty to it, a gentleness that kept Brandon from pushing away, that kept him watching, got him hard against Ken's tongue, but otherwise, he didn't move, eyes following Ken avidly.
Ken didn't look away even when he felt the urge to close his eyes. He kept them locked on Brandon while that long hard cock slide in and out of his mouth. His hands cupped his ass, urging him to thrust, to move, to take what he needed.
Brandon framed Ken's head with his hands and held him still even as he rocked his hips. He watched that mouth take him down, nearly all the way, watched the man's eyes, watched it all, feeling it, truly, for perhaps the first time.
His lashes would flutter but they stayed on Brandon, letting him take what he wanted and needed, giving himself over. Ken felt the man needed to, and maybe it would help take that darkness from his eyes. Each time he pulled back his cheeks were hollowed, each time he took him in went deeper, deeper, humming out a sound of pleasure, his own cock hard between his legs.
Head falling back, Brandon was still close to silent, his eyes closing, though. He stayed that way a while longer before he let go, taking a step back, cock, hard and wet, falling from Ken's mouth. He didn't want to come yet.
Ken stood slowly, pressed chest to chest, hands on Brandon's hips and he stared searchingly into his eyes. He then stepped away, crawled in bed, on hands and knees, knees far apart and ass offered to him. Take it, his body said, hard cock dangling heavily between his legs.
Brandon knelt slowly behind the man, a hand on the small of his back, the other around his cock. He rubbed the head against Ken's hole, not reaching for a condom. Then he started to push in.
"Fuck!" Ken almost pulled away but the hand on his back felt steadying and he reminded himself that Brandon needed this. He'd like to think he needed Ken. He grit his teeth and bared down to take him in, groaning low in his throat as the pain of the the friction began to burn.
The pain was essential. It burned away other things. It hurt both of them. Brandon was merciless in his thrusting, pushing in deeper each time, harder each time, until he was pounding into Ken, shoving him forward with his hips, fingers digging in tight to skin over bone.
It was pleasure-pain mixing so much that Ken couldn't tell which way was up anymore. He was moaning and grunting, taking each punishing thrust not even thinking of his own dick that flagged between his legs. He grabbed the sheets, cheek on the bed, ass in the air, letting Brandon take him over.
The sounds Brandon made were unlike anything Ken had heard. They were low, pained, groaned, needful. He pushed and pushed, cock growing harder, thrusts deeper, his back arched, muscles tight.
Somehow things shifted that the pleasure-pain was all around him it was all Ken knew at that moment. He began to push back, to moan louder, giving back to Brandon what he was giving him. His cock grew harder as it bumped his thigh, their movements working together, slowly synching, Ken reaching back to hold on to Brandon's hip.
It seemed to go on forever and end too shortly all at once. Brandon rested his head against Ken's spine after he came, panting, hands still holding his hips.
Ken reached for his still hard dick, hand squeezing at the base, aching in places but he didn't move. He was well aware of what they did, of not having a condom, of Brandon coming deep inside him but he pushed that away, hand still on Brandon's hip lightly caressing.
Brandon pulled out, eventually, falling to his back, eyes shut, arm over them, flagging cock soft and red against his thigh. He was still breathing hard, still seemingly held together by skin and little else.
Groaning softly, rolling to his side, Ken watched Brandon carefully, hand aching to reach out and touch. Maybe he could and even with a slight hesitation he did, hand on Brandon's arm while he scooted just a little bit closer until his arm was around Brandon's middle, holding him, ignoring the hardness of his cock pressed to Brandon's thigh.
For a moment, Brandon stiffened as if to pull away, but then Ken felt him relax a step at a time. His eyes were still closed, but he lowered his arm. It was tentative, heavy in the air.
Ken didn't dare move so he didn't disturb whatever it was that allowed Brandon to accept his touch, his closeness. He was always so very distant no matter how many times they've done this before. But his hands couldn't stay idle for very long and they started a slow caress with Ken hoping he wasn't, again, going to be pushed away.
Another stiffening, Brandon's eyes shut tight. But again, he didn't pull away, rolling, though, to his belly, face down, arms pillowing his head.
This gave Ken a better angle to touch and so he did, his fingers light as it stroked in vague patterns across Brandon's back. Ken was pressed to his side, his own release forgotten because it seemed that the hard fuck and this - right here - where what Brandon needed. Ken would give it to him, his lashes slow to blink as he watched Brandon's face, daring to kiss his shoulder. Just there. Light and fleeting.
Light enough to be ignored. Brandon didn't move except for the a ripple of the muscles down his back. Maybe his toes curled, but otherwise, he was still.
So Ken kept up with the caress, hand moving lower, touching the globes of his ass, the backs of his thighs, up again, between the legs to graze at the underside of his balls and still Ken waited for the shove away, or any kind of reprimand.
When none came he kept going, lips not following the trail his fingers took, open mouthed with a mix of warm breath and Ken made his way down Brandon's spine.
Brandon buried his face in the covers, hands fisting there, too. He didn't even separate his legs anymore, but he didn't pull away.
Not pulling away was a good sign. Ken kept going, long thick lashes fanning upward to make sure that Brandon was okay. His tongue then laved a long wet line down the small of his back, all the way to the crease, waiting for the clench and the protest. Still, he didn't stop.
That time, the muscles bunched and Brandon's hands fisted. He started to turn around and stopped. Then he put his face back into the covers, gooseflesh moving up his back.
There was a loud, mental, "yes," before Ken licked his way deeper between the crease. Still no protest and he parted Brandon's ass with his thumbs, his face pressed between them, tongue licking out and teasing around his entrance.
His back arching, Brandon breathed out sharply, his legs spreading. That was disgusting. Hot, illicit and awful.
Perhaps that was why he didn't pull away.
The way Brandon moved, the way he parted his thighs was even more encouraging. Ken's hand slid under Brandon, rubbing at his cock, cupping and kneading his balls but Ken didn't stop the onslaught of his tongue licking around him, teasing, teasing, right before he pushed in.
Brandon breathed out, low and harsh, muscles flexing again, his cock hardening in Ken's hand, ass clenching. He kept his face buried.
Ken sucked a finger in his mouth, pushing that slowly inside Brandon, tongue still licking around him as he opened him up. He added a second once he felt him open up, the clench around his fingers making him moan, his cock so hard made the wait painful.
"Just do it," Brandon gritted out, head turned just enough to say the words, no more, eyes still closed. "Just do it."
He didn't have a condom, not ready, not expecting this. So Ken spit on his hand to slick himself before he lined up, hands bracing his cock as he pushed in slow and with a deep groan.
Brandon's back arched, his hands dug into the bed, his head back, eyes shut tight. It almost seemed like he was going to pull away but he didn't, couldn't, pinned to the bed, driven open.
Once he was to the hilt, fingers tight on Brandon's hips, Ken pressed against his back, kissing the back of his neck, his shoulders, until he could feel the way his body took him in. He pulled back slowly, easing his way back and forth, thrusting shallowly. Slow and easy.
A hand came back to bite fingers into Ken's hips. Brandon even curved his back to take more in. He didn't look back and he was silent. But his cock was hard against the sheets.
Ken kept kissing, back, neck, anywhere his lips could touch, he'd murmur words, too, as he thrust. Heavily breathed words that told Brandon how he felt (hot, tight), how Ken felt (so good, so amazing), not sparing anything as his hips began a harder, faster rhythm.
His erection rubbing against the sheets, Brandon clenched his teeth. It hurt; this hurt. Maybe that's why he finally dug the heels of his hands into the bed and pushed back into the onslaught, wanting it to hurt deeper, hurt more.
It felt like invitation, permission, even. So Ken's jaw was set and his fingers were firmer on Brandon's hips when he began to thrust more punishingly. Yet he was stronger and he lifted Brandon up, chest to back he slid his hand down his belly, gripping his cock, jerking it in time with his harsh upthrusts, lips pressed to Brandon's shoulders, his eyes fixed on his stroking hand.
Come. Ken wanted to see him make Brandon come.
Making a low, gritted sound, Brandon strained, feeling his muscles tense, feeling it wind tight in his gut. His orgasm felt immediate and distant all at once.
Ken moved his lips along Brandon's neck, his jaw, kissing, licking, nipping behind his ear, determined to make him forget, even for that split-second as he comes. And he watched, feeling the clench that drew his own orgasm out that he shuddered with it, pushing deep inside Brandon, whispering quiet, gasped words near his ear.
A hand was already shoving at his hip to get the invasion out. Then Brandon rolled to his back away from the wet spot. He watched Ken through barely slitted eyes. That wouldn't happen again.
You would think that he was burned and Ken frowned, still kneeling there, watching Brandon, still panting heavily. But he dared, you see? He dared to lay down next to Brandon, and with muscular arms he wrapped them around him despite any protest, whispering, "shhh... it's okay." Ken didn't care if Brandon would hit him, push him or worse. He could do his best and Ken wouldn't budge.
Brandon lay there like that, unmoving until he fell asleep, or more accurately passed out.
But when Ken woke up in the morning, he was alone in the bed. There was no note, no nothing.
And Brandon never went back to the bar.
He sat with Sissy watching cartoons and he felt her weight against him. That night from the hotel, he didn't think on much. It faded some, the memory, the sense-memory too in his skin. When he did think on Ken, it was of his eyes.
Author: jeck7 and worlddescending
Pairing: Brandon (Shame) / Ken (Magic Mike)
Rating: NC-17
A/N: We wrote this before Magic Mike actually came out, so some facts will be left out (like a wife, heh).
Summary: When he goes to a bar to seek out an easy, no-strings encounter, Brandon gets more than he expects.
Wordcount: ~6600
Disclaimer: these characters do not belong to us; no profit is made.
The bar was full of women. And it was full of women who would be ready to take any cock they could find.
Brandon sat at the bar, faced away from the stage, nursing a cheap beer and he waited. The cheering was jarring, sharp and loud, women screeching.
Strippers made even the most demure woman risque, it seemed.
When it got particularly loud, he turned,for a glance and stopped, staring.
The dancer was lean with a kind of good looks that would make him successful in many fields. And even from where he sat, Brandon could see blue eyes.
The women loved him, reaching for him with dollar bills waving.
He seemed to love them back, or, at least, loved the attention. The music was booming and he moved with it, grinning wide, arms out, muscles oiled and then Ken was slowly rolling his hips.
Wryly, Brandon thought that there was something in loving one's job.
He of course didn't know what that was. He was good at his job. Excellent even. But he took no satisfaction from it. He knew few people who smiled like the living Ken doll smiled.
The living Ken doll was now walking down the ramp, his eyes scanning the crowd and when they fell on someone, the cheers got louder. That only made him grin even wider, dimples deep, the shirt he wore the first to come off with a flourish.
Brandon turned away. He was here for the women, not the men. That night he fucked a blond in her Volvo.
He was back the next night, this time, at the end of the strippers' night, just wanting the women. The women were streaming out around him.
He might as well have a beer. There would be someone, surely.
That someone ended up being Ken in the living flesh, dressed this time, taking the seat next to him and ordering a beer. The women still flocked and he'd grin and wave. One bouncer kept them at bay.
Looking at him sidelong, Brandon raised his own bottle, then looked away. "You have your evening's entertainment waiting."
"Really?" The Ken doll turned on the barstool, his knee touching Brandon's and he cocked his head, raising his beer bottle to him, too. "And how long have you been waiting?"
"I just got here," Brandon answered, unsure what was meant by that. "To capitalize on your hard work." Lest the man think he was here for him.
He was, and his gaze that dragged over Brandon's body would tell him that. Ken then looked around, seeing the women still a bit rowdy and amped up and he shrugged. "Maybe I can capitalize on my hard work." Not on the women. But on him. "And you can get something out of it, too. I don't see them coming over here." He pointed over his shoulder.
Brandon's surprise showed on his face. He looked away again. "It doesn't work like that."
"Why not?" Ken took a swig of his beer before leaning in a lot closer to Brandon. "I suck dick like I dance and strip … like no one's business." He pulled back and gave Brandon one of those wide, bright grins.
There was a throb of heat in Brandon's groin. He drained his beer and turned to look at all the women still lingering. The fat ones, the desperate ones.
It was less than inspiring.
He glanced over at Ken again and away, speaking almost as if to the bartender. "I drive the BMW." Then he slid from the seat and headed for the door. It was just a blowjob.
Ken followed him with his eyes, then he looked at the bartender, too, shrugging. He took a generous gulp of his beer before he was walking to the back, taking that way to head outside.
He found the BMW soon enough, hands in his pockets, head cocked, grinning.
The passenger side door opened. Brandon looked at Ken as he started the engine. They'd drive around the corner.
He got in, settled, hand landing on Brandon's thigh. He turned his head to watch Brandon's profile, to watch as his jaw clenched. It made Ken smile.
Brandon removed the hand and put the car into gear. He stopped it two blocks over, putting the car back in park and killing the engine. Then he looked over at Ken, the darkness perhaps hiding the deadness in his eyes. He leaned his seat back, a hand on his own thigh.
Guess it was going to be as impersonal as time with a two-bit whore. Ken reached for his belt buckle, slow to open that, the back of his hand already teasing between Brandon's legs. He parted the flaps of his pants once opened, grabbing the edge, urging him to push it off.
Brandon lifted, just enough to give access to what was needed, his face focused out the window. He wasn't gay. His cock was half-hard against his belly.
When Ken saw that long, delicious looking cock he chuckled softly, sounding pleased. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked, coaxing it to hardness, face turned up to look at Brandon. With a disappointed sounding sigh he ducked his head, then his lips closed around the head, tongue swirling over the slit.
Silent, Brandon's eyes fell closed, a hand landing on the Ken doll's head. Fuck.
He was good at sucking cock, inching slowly down, lips clamped, then sucking, cheeks hollowed as he pulled back out. Ken knew to suck cock better than he could gyrate his hips. He showed Brandon. Made him feel.
Even when he got closer to coming, Brandon was silent, breathing through clenched teeth, his body tightening, muscles cording.
He'd had a lot of blowjobs. This was, he had to admit, one of the best ones.
Brandon may be more quiet than Ken was used to but the didn't matter. Over his tongue he could feel him, in his hand as he cupped his balls, he could feel it. The man was close and so he worked his lips, his tongue his mouth harder, deeper, almost gagging at his long length, feeling him deep in his throat that Ken groaned louder than Brandon ever did, his dick so hard now, too.
He needed to be quiet. Brandon's hand tightened in his hair the closer he came, until he was all but shoving the man down on his cock, holding him there as he started to come, breath choking out.
He wasn't the only one choking because Ken could barely breathe, inhaling through his nose as he swallowed both long cock and warm come. Brandon's taste made him tremble, and the feel of that dick in his mouth, fucking amazing. So what if he'd choke to death. RIght now, Ken didn't care.
When he came down, Brandon used his grip to pull the guy back, chest still heaving to breathe. "I'll drive you back," he said.
Ken was slow to straighten up, wiping at his mouth, come dribbling down the corner of his lips, his tongue peeking to lick at it. He smiled, wide, dimple-deep at Brandon before he leaned back. "Mind if I relieve myself right here?" He was already trying to pulling his dick out.
"Yes," Brandon said, expression dark. "I do." It was leather and he didn't want to have to clean it. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb to drive the two blocks back to the club.
Ken looked over, obviously deflating but he pulled a smile directed at Brandon anyway. "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me." Voice devoid of any emotion as he sat back down.
Back in front of the bar, Brandon fished out his wallet and held out a twenty. For Ken's troubles. It wasn't as if they would ever interact again, was it? Of course not.
"You're fucking kidding, right?" Ken looked between the money and then Brandon, his face unreadable. "If it was that good, you know where to find me." He didn't take the money. Ken opened the door and let himself out, walking back toward the club without another backward glance.
No money given? Free, then.
Brandon drove away, home.
Sissy arrived the next day and that made Brandon's life more complicated than he wanted to think about. That - no other reason - was why he went to the bar again. It wasn't Ken.
It wasn't.
But he sat at the bar with a beer and he listened to the music.
Ken was at a corner table with some of the other dancers. They've all done their set and right now it was just music, dancing for those who wanted it and drinking. He downed the rest of his beer, getting up to grab another round for everyone.
Brandon didn't turn around when people came to and went from the bar. There wasn't a point to it. He was waiting for a sign of availability, that was all.
"Well look who's back?" Ken said just as he leaned against the bar, upnodding at the bartender and asking for several beers. He turned to Brandon again. "Here for more?"
Cutting a look at him, Brandon shook his head, holding up his beer. That was what he was here for, or so he would say. Though his eyes lingered on Ken's mouth; it was a good mouth.
It was an excellent mouth. Ken licked around his lips before grinning. "Suit yourself." He pointed to the table across the room. "I'll be right there if you change your mind." Then Ken sauntered, yes, sauntered back to his friends, beers in hand.
Why would Brandon change his mind? He was straight and there were women everywhere.
Which didn't at all explain how his hand was on Ken's head again, an hour later in the car around the block. How his head was back, eyes closed as that mouth took him down nearly all the way.
Ken's new goal in life was deep throating this very long cock. And maybe get it to fuck him. Hard. The thought made him moan around his mouthful, the vibrations he could feel moving along that cock slipping in and out of his mouth.
The way this mouth worked made Brandon tighten his grip in that hair. It made him rock his hips up just as he pushed Ken down. If that was the stripper's goal, Brandon, in this way, would help.
Seems there was life in him, and Ken took the hint, he moved lower, gagging, pulling back, mouth wet. He did it again, deeper each time, letting those hands move him, show him what it was that Brandon really wanted.
Most women weren't this willing; Brandon noted that as well. And when he came, it was hard, too. He still didn't let Ken jerk off in his car.
It wasn't until the third time they were together that he even offered to jerk the other man off. Outside the car, hard and fast, not looking at him as he did.
But Ken took the given opportunity and made the most of it. He jerked his hips into Brandon's hand, leaning with his back against the car, his face painted in ecstasy. When he came it was explosive, groaning low while biting his lip, eyes shut tight. After he came he looked hazily up at Brandon, grinning that Ken doll grin of his.
Which Brandon only saw from the corner of his eye as he was walking back toward the driver's seat of his car. There was a towel in the backseat he would wipe his hand on.
The fourth time - which wasn't supposed to happen - found them behind his car, Ken bent over the trunk as Brandon fucked him, hard.
Ken was grunting, body pitched forward with each hard thrust, palms flat on the cool trunk of the car so he could get more resistance, to push back. "Yeah ... fuck ... oh fuck, yes!" Brandon felt better than he had imagined.
It wasn't like being with a woman. It was tight, hot and Brandon was gritting his teeth, hissing, fingers tight around narrow hips, biting in to leave marks.
Not that Ken would mind marks. Fuck! He'd rather have them like a memento. He lifted up, his back pressed to Brandon's chest and the angle hit just right that he moaned and writhed, a hand grabbing back to hold on to Brandon's hip. "Yessss!"
A hand clamped around the back of Ken's neck, pushing him back down. Too much contact. But Brandon kept his hand there, then, using the grip to pull the man back on his dick. He was going to come.
"Oh, fuck!" Ken really shouldn't like this but he did, his cock getting harder between his legs that he reached for it, stroking fast and wild. He groaned, clenching deep because he was going to come, too, body beginning to tremble.
The only real noise Brandon made when he was coming was a soft "ah" noise, then he was staying there for the clench, for the extra sensitization of the clamp around his cock. His hand was still tight around the back of Ken's neck.
Ken's face was pressed to the trunk of the car and he couldn't move. He gasped right there, heat of his breath fogging the shiny finish, jerking his cock a few more times before he was coming with a groan all over the bumper.
He'd make the man clean it up. Brandon groaned at the clench first, then pushed out, condom dropped to the ground. He was already reaching to pull his pants up.
Fuck. He needed to recover for a bit. His ass was just pounded on. Ken turned his head and, still, Bradon wouldn't even look at him. He sighed softly, then straightened up with a groan, pulling his own pants up to put them on.
They fixed themselves quietly.
It should have ended then.
Brandon even stayed away for weeks. For a month. He dealt with Sissy, dealt with the drama that came with having his sister in his home.
But it built up again, the pressure, pounding in his head, in the bottom of his belly. It tightened his hands, the muscles in his shoulders.
It brought him to the bar at closing time, jaw set, eyes dark.
The lights outside slowly flickered then turned off. One by one the people inside started to file out. Ken was among them, laughing at something before his eyes fell on Brandon. His smile didn't fade. It grew. He excused himself and approached.
"Where?" Was the only question that Ken asked.
Brandon turned on his heel to lead the way out. There was a motel a few hundred feet away, the kind that charged by the hour. Brandon paid for two and took the key, letting them into the room and locking the door behind them both. "Strip," he ordered, amending it. "Make it slow."
Ken wasn't sure if that scared him or turned him on. He put his bag down on the floor and then he stood in the middle of the room. He kept his eyes on Brandon as he moved without music, taking it slow as he unbuttoned his shirt, eyes only on Brandon as he parted the material, exposing skin.
He was both, Ken decided, turned on by being just that tad bit scared.
Brandon sat on the edge of the bed, watching, face somehow impassive even as his eyes watched every move.
He didn't need music or fancy dance moves. This was a slow strip tease with Ken moving his body to better show it off. Once he was in nothing but boxer briefs he stood in front of Brandon, tugging them off and letting them fall on the ground.
Ken was hard already, cock a proud arch jutting from his body. He reached over to Brandon so that Ken could strip him of his clothes.
His hands were shoved away. Brandon stood up, gesturing to the bed. "Get yourself ready." He took his own clothes off, folding them neatly on a chair. His cock was hard too, red. He slicked on a rubber.
Ken grabbed lube from his bag, slicked his fingers, then he laid down on his back. He parted his legs wide, lewd, facing Brandon as he pushed two fingers inside him. He made quick work of it, but his eyes never left Brandon's still expressionless face.
Brandon gestured. "Turn over." He didn't need to look at the man's face. Then he knelt on the bed, even helping him move, cock dragging along Ken's thigh.
It was worth a try. Ken was on his stomach, hard cock pinned under him, looking over his shoulder, watching Brandon closely. He lifted his ass up, offering it to him. "Come on ... fuck me."
Wasting no time, Brandon pushed in in one long stroke, not stopping until his hips pressed Ken deeper into the bed. Then he held his weight with one hand and started to fuck in hard and fast.
That this was exactly what he needed didn't bear thinking on.
Already this position made things way too tight but still Brandon pounded into him that he was jostled on the bed. Ken grabbed on the the sheets, hand fisted and tugging just to have something to hold on to. He moaned, loving the pleasure-pain, sound muffled as Ken pressed his face to the sheets.
Brandon shoved, holding tight enough, fucking hard enough to leave bruises on both of them. It hurt, nearly and that was the point: he couldn't do this with a woman. Pulled Ken back on his dick as he pushed forward, teeth clenched.
Ken could barely keep his eyes open, he could hardly breathe. He moved back to meet each hard thrust because he couldn't seem to get enough. He reached between his legs, rubbing his hard cock, then lower, feeling right where Brandon was fucking into him and he moaned.
Just as before, Brandon's hand wrapped around the back of Ken's neck to keep him in place, to give him leverage to fuck in deeper, to exert his control. The slam of his hips was punishingly hard. His head fell back.
"Fuck!" Ken gripped his dick and pumped his hand, riding the pleasure and the pain that mixed into something so much more. He groaned against the sheets, body shaking, taking each one of Brandon's punishing thrusts.
The closer, though, Brandon came to coming, the slower, he moved, dragging it out, riding that edge, his whole body tense, muscles standing out in contrast. So close. So close ….
Ken writhed under him, his moans close to begging, whimpering for more, please, fuck he needed to come but this felt so fucking good. But he kept pushing back, pushing back, chasing after that slowing cock for more.
Finally, Brandon's orgasm wouldn't be denied. He shoved in and felt it hit him; he grunted, thrusting through it, long, deep strokes. He was taking, selfish, telling himself he didn't care if Ken came or not.
He was close but not quite there. Once Brandon stilled, Ken, ass still pushed up, rocking his hips on that dick still inside him, he pumped his fist, jerking off quickly, grunting into the sheets as he came quietly and with a shudder. "Fuck!"
Feeling the respite from that pressure that had been building was such a relief that Brandon was slow to pull out, a hand in the small of Ken's back. He took one deep breath, then another, rocking back onto his haunches as he discarded the condom.
Ken was slow to move, his body feeling deliciously abused. He groaned as he rolled to his side on the bed, his eyes finding Brandon, watching him. It was like waiting for something to happen, some sign of life he knew would like not come but he still managed a bright, and quite satisfied smile. "Lie down," he urged, patting the space beside him. "Then we'll do that again."
They had 90 minutes of the two hours left. Brandon though, looked at the bed and shook his head. Who knew what lived in those sheets. He stayed where he was. "Why do you do it?" He asked, referring to the stripping.
Propping himself with a hand under his chin, still on his side, unabashed, obviously, about his nakedness, Ken looked at Brandon with a grin. "The ones, the fives, the occasional twenties." His eyes though, spoke differently, wishing, hoping Brandon would move closer. "The dancing is fun, the screamed admiration, too ... the lust in their eyes."
"From women whom you have no interest in," Brandon noted. "So you do it for the money and your ego."
Ken stretched out in the bed, in all his nakedness, still smiling. "I just look perfect, but I'm not." It was fact, not conceited, not really. "The women have a good time. They let loose in a way they usually couldn't or wouldn't. I am their fantasy and that's what I give them."
"How generous of you," Brandon told him, eyes dead. "And then they go home to their less-than-fantasy lives and are disappointed."
He shook his head. "It's an escape. They get to get out of the same old, same old. Out of their heads and they sit there, they yell and dance and participate," Ken smiled, "and for the next few hours they enjoy themselves. They have fun .. and I have fun watching that, while escaping, too, doing what I do."
"Escaping from what?" Asking this, Brandon shifted to sit, otherwise, entirely still.
"The mundane, the everyday." Ken shrugged, shifting a little to get a bit closer. "Kind of like you, right now. With me? That's it isn't it?" He cocked his head, his eyes bright and alert fixed on Brandon. "Feel free to tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong." Brandon didn't move, taking in the movements with a sharp gaze. It was far more complicated than this man would even imagine. Finally, he looked away, out the cloudy window.
"If I'm wrong, then what is it?" Ken crawled over slowly. "Why did you come looking for me?"
That was a dangerous question. Brandon's eyes narrowed as he looked out at the street. "What makes you think I came to find you?"
"Because," Now Brandon was within easy reach and what Ken reached for was his dick. "... you always do ..." He started to stroke that cock, eyes fixed on Brandon. "...so I can do this …" Then he ducked his head and closed his mouth around Brandon's cock.
When his hand closed in Ken's hair, Brandon was half-tempted to pull away, but he didn't. He leaned back instead, eyes in slits as he watched, cock hardening slowly in Ken's mouth.
He fucked the stripper again before their two hours was up.
When Brandon came again, his face was cut up, eyes defeated. Sissy was in the hospital and Brandon sat outside the bar in his car. He didn't know what else to do where else to go.
This time when Ken walked out of the club, he saw the car and the shadowy figure of Brandon inside. Without word he climbed in the car and sat back, looking at Brandon, giving him that bright-eyed smile.
Brandon's head was down, hand tight on the wheel. He didn't pull out right away, either, whispering, as if searching for the words, "I'm - my sister's in the hospital."
Welll that wiped the smile off Ken's face and he reached out with a hand on Brandon's arm. "Is she all right?" His brows were drawn, staring at Brandon. "Are you?"
He didn't even pull away. Brandon looked over at Ken, showing off the cuts and bruises, the pain he didn't bother trying to mask, even as he didn't say a word.
For a long time Ken stared at Brandon and then he gave a nod, his hand still on his arm. "Let's go." Anywhere he wanted to go. Anything he wanted to do. Ken would be there. For him.
Not back to his apartment with the blood all over the floor. Not back to the hotel that charged by the hour.
Brandon drove to one that had valets, that took his car away and he used his gold AmEx card to pay without a thought.
They were let into a white room with silver features. Bare, clean, like Brandon's external life before Sissy barged back in.
Once inside Ken didn't hesitate. He stood in front of Brandon and he slowly pushed his coat off. This was probably the very first time that Ken stood this close, close enough to see the specks of color in Brandon's eyes. He stayed quiet while he took the rest of Brandon's clothes off.
As he stood still, unresisting, Brandon watched, eyes following Ken's actions. When he was naked, he was still too, cock only half hard as it rested against his thigh.
Ken wrapped his hand around Brandon's cock, stroking slowly while he turned his head to press his lips to his cheek. It was quick, fleeting, and then he was on his knees, looking up just as he took that cock in his mouth.
There was a beauty to it, a gentleness that kept Brandon from pushing away, that kept him watching, got him hard against Ken's tongue, but otherwise, he didn't move, eyes following Ken avidly.
Ken didn't look away even when he felt the urge to close his eyes. He kept them locked on Brandon while that long hard cock slide in and out of his mouth. His hands cupped his ass, urging him to thrust, to move, to take what he needed.
Brandon framed Ken's head with his hands and held him still even as he rocked his hips. He watched that mouth take him down, nearly all the way, watched the man's eyes, watched it all, feeling it, truly, for perhaps the first time.
His lashes would flutter but they stayed on Brandon, letting him take what he wanted and needed, giving himself over. Ken felt the man needed to, and maybe it would help take that darkness from his eyes. Each time he pulled back his cheeks were hollowed, each time he took him in went deeper, deeper, humming out a sound of pleasure, his own cock hard between his legs.
Head falling back, Brandon was still close to silent, his eyes closing, though. He stayed that way a while longer before he let go, taking a step back, cock, hard and wet, falling from Ken's mouth. He didn't want to come yet.
Ken stood slowly, pressed chest to chest, hands on Brandon's hips and he stared searchingly into his eyes. He then stepped away, crawled in bed, on hands and knees, knees far apart and ass offered to him. Take it, his body said, hard cock dangling heavily between his legs.
Brandon knelt slowly behind the man, a hand on the small of his back, the other around his cock. He rubbed the head against Ken's hole, not reaching for a condom. Then he started to push in.
"Fuck!" Ken almost pulled away but the hand on his back felt steadying and he reminded himself that Brandon needed this. He'd like to think he needed Ken. He grit his teeth and bared down to take him in, groaning low in his throat as the pain of the the friction began to burn.
The pain was essential. It burned away other things. It hurt both of them. Brandon was merciless in his thrusting, pushing in deeper each time, harder each time, until he was pounding into Ken, shoving him forward with his hips, fingers digging in tight to skin over bone.
It was pleasure-pain mixing so much that Ken couldn't tell which way was up anymore. He was moaning and grunting, taking each punishing thrust not even thinking of his own dick that flagged between his legs. He grabbed the sheets, cheek on the bed, ass in the air, letting Brandon take him over.
The sounds Brandon made were unlike anything Ken had heard. They were low, pained, groaned, needful. He pushed and pushed, cock growing harder, thrusts deeper, his back arched, muscles tight.
Somehow things shifted that the pleasure-pain was all around him it was all Ken knew at that moment. He began to push back, to moan louder, giving back to Brandon what he was giving him. His cock grew harder as it bumped his thigh, their movements working together, slowly synching, Ken reaching back to hold on to Brandon's hip.
It seemed to go on forever and end too shortly all at once. Brandon rested his head against Ken's spine after he came, panting, hands still holding his hips.
Ken reached for his still hard dick, hand squeezing at the base, aching in places but he didn't move. He was well aware of what they did, of not having a condom, of Brandon coming deep inside him but he pushed that away, hand still on Brandon's hip lightly caressing.
Brandon pulled out, eventually, falling to his back, eyes shut, arm over them, flagging cock soft and red against his thigh. He was still breathing hard, still seemingly held together by skin and little else.
Groaning softly, rolling to his side, Ken watched Brandon carefully, hand aching to reach out and touch. Maybe he could and even with a slight hesitation he did, hand on Brandon's arm while he scooted just a little bit closer until his arm was around Brandon's middle, holding him, ignoring the hardness of his cock pressed to Brandon's thigh.
For a moment, Brandon stiffened as if to pull away, but then Ken felt him relax a step at a time. His eyes were still closed, but he lowered his arm. It was tentative, heavy in the air.
Ken didn't dare move so he didn't disturb whatever it was that allowed Brandon to accept his touch, his closeness. He was always so very distant no matter how many times they've done this before. But his hands couldn't stay idle for very long and they started a slow caress with Ken hoping he wasn't, again, going to be pushed away.
Another stiffening, Brandon's eyes shut tight. But again, he didn't pull away, rolling, though, to his belly, face down, arms pillowing his head.
This gave Ken a better angle to touch and so he did, his fingers light as it stroked in vague patterns across Brandon's back. Ken was pressed to his side, his own release forgotten because it seemed that the hard fuck and this - right here - where what Brandon needed. Ken would give it to him, his lashes slow to blink as he watched Brandon's face, daring to kiss his shoulder. Just there. Light and fleeting.
Light enough to be ignored. Brandon didn't move except for the a ripple of the muscles down his back. Maybe his toes curled, but otherwise, he was still.
So Ken kept up with the caress, hand moving lower, touching the globes of his ass, the backs of his thighs, up again, between the legs to graze at the underside of his balls and still Ken waited for the shove away, or any kind of reprimand.
When none came he kept going, lips not following the trail his fingers took, open mouthed with a mix of warm breath and Ken made his way down Brandon's spine.
Brandon buried his face in the covers, hands fisting there, too. He didn't even separate his legs anymore, but he didn't pull away.
Not pulling away was a good sign. Ken kept going, long thick lashes fanning upward to make sure that Brandon was okay. His tongue then laved a long wet line down the small of his back, all the way to the crease, waiting for the clench and the protest. Still, he didn't stop.
That time, the muscles bunched and Brandon's hands fisted. He started to turn around and stopped. Then he put his face back into the covers, gooseflesh moving up his back.
There was a loud, mental, "yes," before Ken licked his way deeper between the crease. Still no protest and he parted Brandon's ass with his thumbs, his face pressed between them, tongue licking out and teasing around his entrance.
His back arching, Brandon breathed out sharply, his legs spreading. That was disgusting. Hot, illicit and awful.
Perhaps that was why he didn't pull away.
The way Brandon moved, the way he parted his thighs was even more encouraging. Ken's hand slid under Brandon, rubbing at his cock, cupping and kneading his balls but Ken didn't stop the onslaught of his tongue licking around him, teasing, teasing, right before he pushed in.
Brandon breathed out, low and harsh, muscles flexing again, his cock hardening in Ken's hand, ass clenching. He kept his face buried.
Ken sucked a finger in his mouth, pushing that slowly inside Brandon, tongue still licking around him as he opened him up. He added a second once he felt him open up, the clench around his fingers making him moan, his cock so hard made the wait painful.
"Just do it," Brandon gritted out, head turned just enough to say the words, no more, eyes still closed. "Just do it."
He didn't have a condom, not ready, not expecting this. So Ken spit on his hand to slick himself before he lined up, hands bracing his cock as he pushed in slow and with a deep groan.
Brandon's back arched, his hands dug into the bed, his head back, eyes shut tight. It almost seemed like he was going to pull away but he didn't, couldn't, pinned to the bed, driven open.
Once he was to the hilt, fingers tight on Brandon's hips, Ken pressed against his back, kissing the back of his neck, his shoulders, until he could feel the way his body took him in. He pulled back slowly, easing his way back and forth, thrusting shallowly. Slow and easy.
A hand came back to bite fingers into Ken's hips. Brandon even curved his back to take more in. He didn't look back and he was silent. But his cock was hard against the sheets.
Ken kept kissing, back, neck, anywhere his lips could touch, he'd murmur words, too, as he thrust. Heavily breathed words that told Brandon how he felt (hot, tight), how Ken felt (so good, so amazing), not sparing anything as his hips began a harder, faster rhythm.
His erection rubbing against the sheets, Brandon clenched his teeth. It hurt; this hurt. Maybe that's why he finally dug the heels of his hands into the bed and pushed back into the onslaught, wanting it to hurt deeper, hurt more.
It felt like invitation, permission, even. So Ken's jaw was set and his fingers were firmer on Brandon's hips when he began to thrust more punishingly. Yet he was stronger and he lifted Brandon up, chest to back he slid his hand down his belly, gripping his cock, jerking it in time with his harsh upthrusts, lips pressed to Brandon's shoulders, his eyes fixed on his stroking hand.
Come. Ken wanted to see him make Brandon come.
Making a low, gritted sound, Brandon strained, feeling his muscles tense, feeling it wind tight in his gut. His orgasm felt immediate and distant all at once.
Ken moved his lips along Brandon's neck, his jaw, kissing, licking, nipping behind his ear, determined to make him forget, even for that split-second as he comes. And he watched, feeling the clench that drew his own orgasm out that he shuddered with it, pushing deep inside Brandon, whispering quiet, gasped words near his ear.
A hand was already shoving at his hip to get the invasion out. Then Brandon rolled to his back away from the wet spot. He watched Ken through barely slitted eyes. That wouldn't happen again.
You would think that he was burned and Ken frowned, still kneeling there, watching Brandon, still panting heavily. But he dared, you see? He dared to lay down next to Brandon, and with muscular arms he wrapped them around him despite any protest, whispering, "shhh... it's okay." Ken didn't care if Brandon would hit him, push him or worse. He could do his best and Ken wouldn't budge.
Brandon lay there like that, unmoving until he fell asleep, or more accurately passed out.
But when Ken woke up in the morning, he was alone in the bed. There was no note, no nothing.
And Brandon never went back to the bar.
He sat with Sissy watching cartoons and he felt her weight against him. That night from the hotel, he didn't think on much. It faded some, the memory, the sense-memory too in his skin. When he did think on Ken, it was of his eyes.