3. Eli Objects.
Surprisingly, given how late we’d gone to bed, we were awake early — at least I was. For a while I lay still, half dozing as Butch lay against me, his arm over my chest, and his bent leg over my thigh. It felt good to have his naked body in such close contact, and to listen to his breathing. Not for the first time, I wondered how I’d got this lucky.
He stirred gently and his eyes opened. Slowly a smile spread on his face and his hand caressed my stomach. His mouth found my cheek, and he whispered.
“Love you.” He chuckled. “I could get used to this.”
“So could I.” Turning a little to my side, I pecked his nose, then kissed him properly. “Did you say you had a flat and wanted me to share it?”
“I did.” He hesitated. “It’s nothing much, basically a bedroom with a shower and a kitchenette attached — and it needs cleaning up and some fixing up.”
“If it means I get to have you sharing a bed and my life …” Slipping my arms around him, I pulled him onto me. “I’d settle for a tent in the woods if it meant we could be together and stop having to steal kisses in the library, or have to wait until Eli wants us to perform to make love.” Pausing, I whispered, “Butch, you make my days … everything is so much better when I’ve had even a few minutes in your company …”
“I know what you mean, my love.” Butch kissed me, our members hardening between us. “It’s the same for me … and these sessions for Eli … they’re so … amazing. All the years dreaming of what it would be like to be with you like this …” Our mouths met, our tongues competing as we kissed, and without either of us making a conscious decision, we made love, our erections between us, slipping against our skins in the copious precum we both produced, and rubbing against each other until we both erupted, our cum mingling between us as we pressed against each other.
Recovering my breath, I looked into his eyes and smiled.
“Yes, Butch, I will live with you, and together we’ll turn this place you’ve found into our haven …”
His mouth crushed to mine, and we lost ourselves in another prolonged kiss.
Eli found us wearing the rubber jocks he’d put out with our clothes and enjoying coffee side by side on the sofa. We’d not closed the door between the studio and the flat, so he stood at the open door and rapped his knuckles on the frame to get our attention.
“Morning, love birds.” He grinned and held up a folder. “Can I come in? I’ve some of the artwork from your first session to show you.”
“Of course.” Butch was on his feet, his smile and his happiness almost lighting up the room. “Some coffee?”
“Love some.” Eli walked to take a seat opposite and placed the folder on the coffee table. “You’re looking like you’ve won the lottery.”
“I have! Penn and I are going to set up our own place … It’s no palace, and it’s in Bogtown … But it’ll be ours.”
“Bogtown? Are you crazy?” Eli’s expression said he didn’t like it.
“It’s all we can afford until we qualify.” Butch was a bit defensive. Bogtown is not a good quarter. It makes ‘rough’ look like a Sunday School. “We’ll be fine, once we have it all fixed up.”
“No, you won’t.” Eli looked from Butch to me. “What the fuck …" Pausing, he continued, his tone emphatic. "No, you’re not going to live in Bogtown. No fucking way.” He studied us. His expression warned there was no argument on this. “Go and get me a coffee, Butch. Then we’ll talk.”
Looking deflated, Butch obeyed, and I stared at Eli. He was obviously serious, but he couldn’t stop us … or could he? Seeing my stare, he softened his expression.
“You guys really want a place of your own? Fine, but NOT in Bogtown. There’s another option.” Accepting the coffee from Butch, he signalled him to sit down again. “Listen up, I grew up in Bogtown, got the scars, got the tats, got the teeshirt … so do the other guys that own Vulcan Supplies — and a few more small and not so small businesses now. My partner, Mark, is a cripple because he got so badly beaten because we wouldn’t accept an offer from a bunch of … You two are NOT going to live there.” Leaning back, he paused. “You like this place?”
“Love it.” I took Butch’s hand. “But we couldn’t afford to rent it.”
“That can be solved.” Eli watched us. “When do you want to move in?”
We looked at each other. Butch spoke first.
“I could move in immediately, but I have to pay the other guys I share with my share of the rent and utilities … and probably something so they can manage until they get someone else to share.” He grimaced. “There goes the five hundred. I’ll still have my pool cleaning money …”
“We’ll still have my five hundred, love.” Taking his hand, I squeezed and addressed Eli, “I have to give the Y a week’s notice, so if I do that tomorrow, I could move in straight away — they won’t mind as long as I have my room emptied and paid the notice.”
Eli nodded. “Okay. Now, how about this. I could use a couple of cleaners to give the shop a daily cleanup — dusting, vacuuming and maybe polish the stuff on the mannequins. I’d guess you earn about eighty a week from Office Services?”
“Less. Around sixty after tax and all the deductions they take off me.”
“Yeah, bunch of crooks.” Eli paused, considering something. “Okay, I’ll pay you both a hundred and fifty a week for an hours cleaning in the shop and studio daily. I’ll deduct ninety a week for the rent from each of you. You’ll go on my payroll, so there’ll be tax deducted, medical, and so on, but you should have around forty a week out of it. How does that sound?”
“Are you serious …?” Butch began.
“That sounds fantastic, Eli,” I cut in. Pausing, I blurted, “But why? I mean why are you offering us this?”
“Because I like you?” Eli watched us. “Listen, I’m going to tell you a story.” Staring at the ceiling for a moment, he hesitated. “I grew up in Bogtown. So did, Mark, my bro … partner, and Carlos, Mike, Kat, Erik and all the rest — Den was there for a bit too. All my partners in this business and a few more we’ve built. We had two choices, be like the rest of the kids there and do sex, booze, drugs and fuck ourselves completely, joining one of the crime syndicates and spend our lives on the dodge — or get the hell out any way we could. Mark always took care of me and I watched his back. He kept me out of the gangs, off the streets and most of the shit, and we earned our way. Sometimes we ‘turned tricks’ for men that want young ‘rough’ sex, and I have some special tricks … But we learned. We found other ways to earn.”
“Mark and me started a waste collection business — taking away restaurant waste and flogging it to someone who turned it into pig food. We still have that running, it’s grown a lot, but now it’s managed by a couple of our lads. There’s good money in what people throw out in restaurants. We sold ourselves when we had to — there a lot of men in this town will pay for sex with a willing guy — and some of us learned to invest at least some of our earnings where some smart suited bastard couldn’t steal it.”
“Mark and me, we started a special little club for very select customers. Customers who like to be ‘topped’ for a bit of BDSM in rubber … It was a nice earner, and someone thought it was their territory. Mark paid the price, and I got framed for a killing — but that turned out to be a blessing, because it exposed the racket some cops had with a rival gang.” Pulling up his shirt, he exposed some bad scars. “And we all have the marks. Mark got his back broken — some rivals caught him unawares. I was in custody — funny though, because I was in custody for something I hadn’t done.” He laughed. “And their case fell apart because a certain Desk Sergeant heard the client I’d been entertaining telling another drunk that he’d had the best ever rubber session with me at the time I was supposed to be committing a heist … I owe that copper a lot.”
“Anyway, I got released, and then the case thrown out. But I knew the names and the faces of the bastards who worked Mark over, and I spread that information around my friends …” He left that hanging. “We had a bit put away and invested. I sold the lease on our club, put in a big claim for criminal compensation for Mark, and bought these premises.” The pause lingered, then he drained his coffee and continued. "Mark made bloody good use of his time in hospital and recovering ... he's the brains among us ..."
“With Mark in a wheelchair, and the other guys who joined me in doing this place up — we almost rebuilt it — we managed to get another business started on the side.” He laughed. “Doing building renovations. And we decided to take on this lark. Mark ran this shop and did the rubber wear making and we sold that online while we rebuilt the place around him. Now he manages our rubber wear factory and looks after our business interests.” He grinned. “He can’t walk, but he can do anything and everything else … including running our factory.” Pausing again, he watched us.
“Anyway, between me and Mark, we’ve built this and some other businesses over twenty years. Most of our trade is online, this shop’s mostly just a showroom and warehouse. My hobby now if you like. With the other guys, we’ve bought up rundown properties, renovated them and either sold them on, or installed guys like you with the nous and ability to make your own business … We’ve built up a solid set of small businesses — the muck collection, the renovation lark, taxis, this place … we even own a publishing and printing firm. And we help guys like us make a clean start, out of Bogtown and away from the syndicates.”
“You boys are grafters. You’ve had a good — or a better — start than we did. You’ve both got the brains to go far once you’ve qualified. Penn, you could be a journalist, an author or a teacher — you’ll be good at any of them. And you Butch … you’ll be fucking wasted in an office. You’re studying civil engineering, and I hear you've the makings of a good one. Go for it. And enjoy being what and who you are, there’s fuck all wrong with having a bit of fun together in or out of rubber. Just be careful — and look out for each other.” Standing, he said, “I’m going to go and open the shop. Have a look at the pictures Carlos has created from your first photo shoot. I think you’ll enjoy them. And there’ll be more photoshoots if you want to do them. Oh, one more thing.” His grin was wicked. “My cleaning staff must be fully rubbered up when they report for work tomorrow evening. I’ll deliver your uniforms later.”
Putting the last picture back in the folder, I looked at Butch. The pictures, matts for the story layout, were erotic — very erotic, but very artistic. The guy who’d created them from our photos had to be a genius at it. There was a renaissance quality to them. Okay, so that was, in part, the software he had to be using, but not entirely. These seemed almost alive, not ‘cartoon’ images, more like works of art, painted by an artist in love with his subject. As for the catalogue shots … Well, I now had a boner just looking at the images I knew were me!
“How does he do it? I mean, okay, these have been manipulated and embellished … but, fuck me, they really are erotic now. I mean, even more than when we posed for them!” I paused. “Look at this one — I can almost feel you fucking me …”
“Was that an invitation?” Butch gripped my thigh, his rubber jock straining to contain his erection. “I’d be happy to oblige …”
“Then what are you waiting for …” Kissing his cheek, I stood, turned and propped myself against the sofa. Over my shoulder, I grinned. “Celebrate with me … we’ve got a decently paying job, a flat and each other!”
He was behind me in a moment, his cock freed from the jock pouch and pressed against my opening.
“And don’t forget we have to wear a rubber ‘uniform’ for work …”
“How … could … I …?” I managed as he entered my manhole. Damn, but he felt good as he pumped my arse, and he held out well. “Oh … wow …” I clenched my sphincter as he pushed himself all the way in and shot his load. Laughing as he nibbled my neck with his teeth, his post ejaculation tremors making him shudder, I said, “I guess this seals our relationship …”
“Not yet!” Turning me as his now limp cock pulled itself free, he, pulled my jock aside and took my erection into his mouth.
I managed to hold out on him for a bit, but he knew my sweet spot too well — and having my butt still throbbing, and my prostate teased by his fucking me, it was a lost cause. He grinned as he finished draining the last of my cum, pulled me into a tight hug, and pressed his mouth to mine.
“Now we’ve sealed our relationship … I’m yours, and you’re mine, Penn, my beloved — and this place is going to be our first home together.” Releasing me, he stood, and picked up the pictures we’d been looking at. “I’m going to ask Eli if we can have a copy of this — blown up — to frame and keep on the wall in here.”
I looked at the picture he’d chosen and laughed. It showed us both in the rubber suits we’d worn the first time I’d posed, and Butch in the rather threatening helmet that imprisoned his whole head. His character was apparently surrendering to mine, his ‘face’ close to my obvious erection beneath the rubber suit.
“I like it. Yes, let’s ask.” Kissing him, I asked, “Were you serious you could move in immediately?”
“I was. I want to go and fetch my stuff asap. How about you? Need a hand moving your gear?”
“There’s not a hell of a lot in my room. My clothes, my laptop and a few books — and my bike.” Grinning I added, “May take all of ten minutes to clear the place.”
“About the same as me then.” Butch hugged me. “This afternoon?”
“This afternoon.” Kissing him, I added, pushing my crotch against his, “And tonight we’ll finish sealing this relationship. My turn to fuck and suck …”
“You got it!”
