Jeff Mann Fog

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smooth it over his lips. You can take this for a while? You can
breathe all right?
Rob nods. Um hm.
You get some sleep, okay? I say, tucking him in and pull-
ing on my clothes. I m going downstairs to read. I ll be up
later. If you need me, shout as best you can. I ll hear you.
Rob blinks up at me, blue eyes soft, a glance that, in some
other context, could almost be described as doting. He nods,
closing his eyes.
Downstairs, I lie on the couch, reading Faulkner till my
eyes are tired. After a few chapters, I turn off the lamp and
try to sleep. Instead, my anxiety starts counting the number
of chemicals I ve heard are rampant in town, drugs Jay might
be indulging in. Crystal meth, oxycontin, heroin. Maybe co-
caine, maybe speed. Shit, fuck, shit.
I drowse off, then wake with a jolt to the distant snapping
and crashing of woodland branches, brought down by the
weight of ice. Stiffly, I shuffle up to the toilet, then into the
bedroom, where I strip. Rob s snoring, back to me. He wakes
as I climb in beside him. He rolls over. I kiss his taped mouth.
He rests his head on my shoulder, snuggling against me like a
child, and starts snoring again. I lie there, an arm around him,
staring at the ceiling for a long time before falling asleep.
113
chapter twenty-five
ROB S WRAPPED TIGHTLY in my arms when I wake. I
pull back the blankets to marvel at his nakedness, but last
night s worries are as sharp and salient as my desire for my
sleeping hostage.
Mm? Rob grunts against the tape as I slip out of bed. He
rolls onto his back, cocking a quizzical eyebrow.
Stay there, I say gruffly. I have lots of work to do; I ve
got a lot on my mind.
He nods, gazing sleepily up at me. I pull on my lounge
clothes. I didn t mean to be brusque, I say at the door. I m
just worried about Jay getting home on bad roads. I ll make us
breakfast in a little bit.
I m at my computer before I realize I can t do any work;
there s no damned electricity. Cursing, I pull on boots and
fetch a few armloads of wood from the shed. The ground s
treacherous with ice; three times I almost slip and fall. At
least it s warming up; the icefall has turned to steady rain.
Coffee next. Got to use the old stovetop pot. While it
brews, I fry and flip scrapple, trying to remember the signs of
114
fog
drug use. No luck. I don t know jack shit about drug culture,
other than the marijuana that Jay brings home occasionally.
Sharing a bong with him has been just about the entirety of
my drug experiences.
Other than caffeine, of course. I pour a cup before slipping
the crisp slices of scrapple onto a plate. Time to check on
my handsome prisoner, my hill-country version of Sleeping
Beauty. Boy, want some breakfast? I shout up the stairs.
No answer.
Rob? Are you all right?
Worried, I climb the steps, lope down the hall, splashing
coffee in my wake, and throw open the bedroom door. To
my surprise, I find Rob lying on his back, covers down to
his thighs, cuffed hands fondling his full erection. His eye-
brows arch; beneath the tape, the line of his lips curves into
a smile.
Uh, I say. I place the coffee cup on the dresser. I watch
him tug on his shaft, squeeze his balls, finger the head. My
cock tents my sweatpants in response.
You little bastard. Goddamn you. You re so fucking
beautiful. You know the power your body has over me, don t
you?
Rob nods; lazily he works himself.
So you ve somehow gone from a weeping, terrified kidnap
victim to a cock-tease within a week?
Rob nods.
Because you think you can convince me to free you?
Huh uh, Rob grunts, shaking his head. There s hopeless-
ness in that small sound, that mundane movement.
Carpe diem? Because you re afraid to die?
Rob pauses only for a moment before continuing his de-
liberate strokes and giving me another nod. His blue eyes are
wide, desperate.
115
Jeff Mann
I jerk off my clothes, climb onto the bed, and lie on top of
him. When I peel the tape off his mouth, he winces, giving a
little squeal of discomfort.
That s what you get for growing such a fine beard so
damned fast, I say before pushing my mouth against his.
Our kisses are harder this time. He squirms beneath me,
biting my lower lip till it hurts. You fucker, I growl, nip-
ping his chin, holding him down. Suddenly I m straddling his
chest, rubbing my cock against his rough cheek. You said
you sucked Wes, right? And you liked it.
Yes. Rob nuzzles my penis. Then he kisses its head. I
liked it pretty well. Okay, all right, actually I loved it. I sucked
him like a mad bastard, to be honest. And now, dude, I m
more than ready to suck you.
None of this is real. This is all a mad erotic dream, I say.
Yeah, he murmurs, licking the underside of my shaft.
The last few days have sent me round the bend. I don t know
who I am right now. You ve been slipping me some kind of
mind-altering drug, some kind of aphrodisiac, right?
You re the ideal captive, I d say. The sex-slave I ve always
dreamed of. Dream or no, I m going to fuck your face.
I prod Rob s lips with my prick. He angles his head and
opens his mouth. When he extends his tongue, gently I place
upon it the head of my cock. He takes a deep breath before
wrapping his lips around me and taking me tightly in. I look
down at him, the fucking paradisial sight of a boy so hand-
some with my dick in his mouth. He stares up at me, blue
eyes glittering crazily. I can name that half-mad shine. It s
the hunger of the condemned for clemency, for life. I push
my cock into him farther; his tongue flickers along my shaft,
and pleasure suffuses me. For long, delicious minutes I ride
his face before shifting us onto our sides. I clasp his head, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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