Distance And Possession by Te and Alicia 7/98 Daddy793@aol.com Summary: Walter needs a little more than that. In a message dated 7/2/98 12:23:34 PM, Alicia wrote: <> Oh, honey. I am so, so sorry. But you really shouldn't have done that. You *know* how many people wanted him to peel off another hundred... ****** "Four hundred? Just what... extras were you expecting this time? Sir." Walter was at a loss. There really wasn't any way to say "I want to bend you over my lap and spank you 'til you glow" and still retain your dignity. He'd picked up //Alex his name is Alex/// the boy several times over the past few months; always the same. Some random, anonymous motel, a few hours of incredible sex, and always, always there would be one moment when the look in the hustler's eyes made him ache for more. Something. He had only himself to blame. He'd demanded a better act and gotten one. A hustler who offered his own pleasure for Walter's benefit. A sex toy that smiled; that, God help him, could make him laugh. He longed for the self-delusion to be able to convince himself that he was only coming back for the tight ass and greedy mouth; had long since lost any guilt over the fact that he was cruising in the first place. But there was a need for //distance// discipline... "Sir?" //Might as well come right out with it...// "Have you ever been spanked?" The eyebrow arched in a way that had become far too familiar over the past months, the hint of humor that would forever be linked in his mind to the feel of cheap, tangled sheets and the scent of sex. Walter had no idea what he would do if the younger man were to laugh. But then the face closed abruptly, olive eyes hooded themselves. Something settled deep inside Walter at this re-assumption of professionalism; something else railed. //Just what did he see on my face?// "Yes. Two hundred over and above the base price... unless you want to change the terms of our arrangement entirely?" "I still want you for //'...the night at my mother's, Walter, as if you give a damn...'// the whole night." Alex nodded absently and whipped the towel from around his waist, rubbing it briefly through his shower-spiked hair before tossing it aside. Walter watched the slide and pull of lean muscles as the younger man stretched; peeled out the fifth bill. "How do you want me?" The boy was running an upsettingly impersonal hand over his own abdomen, lower; clinically precise strokes. "The dresser." Alex nodded again, caught his eyes briefly in infinitesimally narrowed concentration. He seemed to be trying to answer something for himself, but he didn't speak. Walter felt the brush of warm, silky skin as the younger man walked past, found himself focusing absurdly on the light dusting of freckles on the tawny back. With sudden, heart-stopping clarity he saw the two of them on a beach somewhere, the kind of sunshine that put a twitch in your cock no matter who you were with, that powerful golden light demanding worship, naked on some soft, bright towel, coconut scented oil, soft skin and hard muscles filling his hands... Walter shook off the images and slipped behind the younger man, running a hand down the slim back, toying with the dusting of blond hair, pressing a thumb into the bundle of nerves at the base of the spine. An encouraging shudder. He dug in gently, rubbing in small circles while letting his other hand roam between the parted thighs. Half-hard flesh jumping to life under his fingers. Walter regretted the absence of a mirror, but then he didn't want to seem too routine. Light graze of a short nail over a vein, a gasp. "Wider." Alex obliged, spreading his legs and bending over just a little. The impulse to thrust was impossible to resist, but the feel of smooth skin, the instinctive buck when the younger man felt his erection... even through the fabric of his trousers it was distracting. He pulled back with a sigh he couldn't quite hold in, and stepped to the side. The hustler raised his head in question. //Well, no, I can't make up my mind what I want to do with you...// Walter decided not to trust his ability to say anything coherent at that moment, and simply held his hand in front of Alex's face. Pink tongue swipe over his palm; another. Young-old eyes fluttered closed as the younger man applied himself to getting Walter's hand as slick as possible. A brief twitch of humor on otherwise smooth cheeks as he took two fingers deep for an inspirational moment. Nothing Walter hadn't seen before, but it never lost its appeal. Skinner lowered his hand to the younger man's cock. Hard flesh slipped and slid through his fist, hot and almost seeming to brand.... Sharp little thrusts, breathless gasps. It was hard to retain a professional exterior when you were fucking something tight and slick and welcoming... anything tight and slick and welcoming. Walter smiled to himself and finally let his other hand fall on the pumping ass. Alex froze, but the older man was almost sure that the reaction was due more to the sudden sound than to any real discomfort. A soft squeeze, a brief flip of thumb over the head and the thrusts began again, less fluid this time as the boy //Alex// tensed himself for another blow. That was unacceptable. Walter brought his free hand up to the obliging mouth and had a finger sucked in immediately. //He wants me to fuck him and get it over with...// The older man slid his dampened finger down Alex's spine, kickstarting a brief flurry of wilder thrusts that steadied as the finger made its way down the crack of his ass. Alex bent a little farther and pushed back against the probing finger, but the older man refused to take the bait, teasing along the sensitive skin, skirting just wide of the entrance being so provocatively displayed, then continuing down to stroke the delicate flesh below. Alex moaned, so low as to be almost inaudible, and that beautiful head fell forward in //feigned?// acquiescence. The unwelcome thought spurred Walter to action and, without warning, he released Alex's swollen cock, raided his hand and let it fall sharply, quickly, patterning the pale flesh even as his other hand continued caressing Alex's perineum and balls. His efforts were rewarded with a gasp, a flinch, another moan. //He knows what I want from him, and gives it. It's almost enough...// On some level, Walter knew just what his thoughts said about him, but oh, it was so easy to be distracted from that unwelcome knowledge. And if his subconscious discomfort made his hand fall a little more heavily, well, he was paying for the privilege, after all. Again and again and Alex was moving with the rhythm now, shuddering and swaying and too much it was all too much-- "Blow me." Spinning the boy around and to his knees, barely giving him time to grab one of the condoms that were always within arm's reach. Latex unfurling over him and then he was plunging into that oh-so-talented mouth, bucking and jerking and oh yes it *was* hard to retain a professional exterior, even his own, and even when he knew (with some distant part of his brain) that once again he'd lost control of the situation, and he'd loathe himself for it later, but how could he worry about that now, so hot so sweet so tight and that tongue swirling and stroking and teasing and behind his closed eyelids he could still see that ripe, perfect ass tattooed with his handprints and he wondered how the next man would feel upon seeing these marks of possession, however false, however temporary-- For a little while, Walter had something of his own, and it was glorious.