Too defiant to Abuse

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

Introduction:

Longer-read: After college, the 23-year-old Michael J Cox moved clear across the country. Finding a new house, job, and a heap of trouble. Getting to know the friends and enemies he encountered. And the great sex he had with both. However much he liked the thuggish type, the defiant Mikey Mike hates to be dominated, bound, or abused. 
This is a 9-part dramatic depiction of what Mike had to endure setting up shop.

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.

Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication, use, or reproduction of this story or parts of this story is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Too defiant to Abuse - Part 6.

Michael crawled, exhausted by Hardy Simons, into his bed. Setting the alarm for six the following morning. When his head hit the pillow, he was out for the count. With a jolt, Mike awoke at 7:15 on Thursday. Men were banging on metal pipes right outside his bedroom window. Mike had overslept. He shot out of bed and into a pair of paint-spattered old jeans. Mike put on an old polo shirt with the college logo. Just before he saw a painter poke a head in front of his bedroom window. Tom's firm had erected scaffolding to remove the loose paint from the siding.

Michael rushed outside via the garage. Opened the garage bay door, dragging the heavy buckets of paint onto the driveway. He saw what looked like the foreman and stuck out his hand to the 62-year-old guy. The gray-haired, fit, ebony DILF smiled and said: "You look like you had a rough night... Was it any fun?... Hi,... I am Tom... You must be Michael Cox..."
"Yeah, it sort of was... But I overslept a bit... Sorry... Here is the paint... Is there anything else you need, sir?..." Michael asked.

"Oh no!... Don't call me that... I am Tom... Uncle Tom, if you must... Frank told me all about you... He is very impressed with you, Mikey... And Grunnings is not easily impressed by anyone... That's saying something... All we need is a good supply of coffee... I hear Frank will provide the lunch and snacks... So we can start as soon as you tell us which color you want on the windows and doors... We will have this home shining like new before long... It's our pleasure to help out a fellow... Uhmmm... like you..." said Tom with a knowing wink and a limp handshake.

Mike greeted the seven men crew from Tom's firm. Showing Tom what color he wanted on the windows and doorframes. He gave Tom a free hand in picking the color for the shutters. The man began scraping the old paint off while Mike switched on the coffeemaker. Taking a quick shower and eating a protein bar by way of breakfast. 

Mike had rented a carpet cleaner. He put it to good use in the living and dining room. After the downstairs carpets, Mike moved the steam cleaner into the main bathroom. Using it to clean tiles and even the bathtub. This went so well that he did his master bedroom and its en-suite bathroom as well. Then, around nine, he heard a call from downstairs: "Anyone home?..." came a familiar voice. Michael rushed downstairs and found a large group of people in his driveway. The Grunnings's and their staff were here. Not only that. Frank had brought a few more friends of his. A carpenter, a couple of electricians, a plasterer, and a plumber. Michael saw their cars were blocking half the street. 

"Hi everyone... Thanks for coming out to help... I had not expected this many of you..." said Mike at the expectant crowd. He used his managerial skills to address the team: "... If you need a place to park your cars, you can use the neighbor's driveway as well... There are cold drinks in the kitchen... Tea and coffee will be ready soon... Buckets, mops, brooms, and cleaning supplies are in the garage... Divide yourself into groups, and you can pick a room... I have been cleaning the carpets... Plenty left to do... This house has not been cleaned properly in over two years... Thanks again for coming out to help..."

Ellise laughed as she took her own brooms and buckets into the house. Followed by the other lunchroom ladies that had come out to clean Mike's home. Sara, one of the ladies, had four large boxes in her arms. She said to Michael: "Here dear... These are donuts and sandwiches for lunch... Do you have a fridge where I can put them in?..."
"Well, whatever you do... Don't use the one in the kitchen... It's not sanitary... I will have to replace it... I have a clean camping fridge in the garage... We can put it in there..." said Michael as he took three of the four boxes from Sara and showed her into the garage.

After Mike returned, he saw Frank and Tom talking with the workman. Mike walked over and introduced himself around. Handing out work assignments to the guys. In no time, the house was a hive of activity. Michael did not get to do much. The men and women knew what needed to be done. Cox made sure they were fed and watered. Answering any questions they had.

They were not the only people working that day. The city's Park Management department helped clean the neighborhood. They cut down trees and the grass clippings were collected, and the street gutters were cleaned. The electrical company changed out all the streetlights, the bus company replaced the bus stop, and the fire department checked all the hydrants. The work on the grass that Michael had started with the neighbors got finished by Park Management. By the end of the day, the entire neighborhood looked a million times better.

Mike and the carpenter created a new headboard for the master bed. He mixed plaster for the plasterer that had started to fill every hole he could find. Michael asked the electricians to change out the lights in the hallway and up the stairs. And had them check all the outlets and the main breaker panel. The plumber checked the drains in the kitchen. Replacing a leaky faucet in the bathroom and adding a hose spigot outside the garage.

At lunchtime, the entire team of 18 people sat on the back patio. Enjoying the lunch that Michael had laid out for them. He started to make his own sandwich while the ladies watched him. With all their lunchroom experience, they had not seen a young man make a sandwich like this. Mike placed a bun on the grill. Cutting some lettuce, cucumber, egg, and tomatoes. He put the lettuce on the crispy bun and covered it with low-fat chees and ham. He added the cucumber, egg, and tomato. Sprinkled it with some onion and sweet and sour pickle slices. The lunchroom staff and some of the other helpers were amazed watching Mike. Not in the least by Michael's speedy knife skills.

"Aren't you the little kitchen prince?..." called one of the ladies.
"If we ever need an extra hand in the lunchroom, I know who to call now..." laughed Ellise Grunnings.
"I'll have one of those too, please, Michael..." said a few painters.
A little flustered, Michael said: "Sure, but Frank brought all these sandwiches... I can't store them..."
"Don't worry, dear... You can take them to the street party tonight with the donuts..." laughed Martha Stewertson. This was true. Michael J Cox had almost forgotten about the barbeque later that evening.

Tom's painters had turned the house around in one day. Around three, the painters were done. They had given the whole place a makeover. The broken windows were replaced, and all the gaps were sealed with caulking. The sidings and windows had gotten primed and painted. With the fresh new paint job, Mike's home was the best-looking one in the area.

The house smelled fresh and was ready for paint on the inside. The interior had been given a thorough scrub. The carpets and wood floors were damp but cleaner than they had ever been. Even the old furniture had been waxed and oiled to a showroom shine. The furniture got moved to its final spots with the help of Frank, Tom, and the carpenter. Some beefy painters helped move the gym equipment from the garage to the walkout basement. Finally, freeing up a garage bay for Mike's car. Ellise and Martha helped to give the downstairs a few homely touches. 

It was already nearing four o'clock when Michael said goodbye to the last help. He could not thank them enough. This would have taken Mike four weeks. He called the dumpster company to pick up the second skip and took a moment to walk through the house. Moving some stuff around and enjoying the fresh new look. Mike put away the steam cleaner and other supplies and wiped the kitchen surfaces. Cleaning the outdoor kitchen and getting it ready for tonight's use.

Michael laughed to himself. "A whole day without getting laid once... I must be losing my touch..." Mike showered in the clean en-suite. And dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt. Butchly rolling up the sleeves a couple of turns. Michael wore the new leather pants and the flat-nosed cowboy boots Brandon had given the boy. Mike completed the look with a thin leather necklace and a wide leather wristband. Putting a bit of product in his hair and ruffling it up a little. "Time for a bite to eat... I wonder what Tommy's day has been like?..." thought Michael as he walked out the front door. Feeling and looking like the rock star he wanted to be.

Outside, Mike walked smack bang into Conner and Vincent Kumsukba. "Hey, Sexy... Where do you think you're going?... Come and meet the band..." Michael's stomach gave a loud protesting rumble.
Vincent laughed. "Sounds like someone is hungry... Damn, the house looks nice, Mikey... Can you show us where to set up?... We brought the stage and our light show..." Vincent wasn't kidding. The twins had pulled out all the stops.
"Oh... shit... yeah... Uhmmm... Before you do... Could you give me a hand moving the outdoor kitchen?... I think we should set up on either side of the basketball court..."

The band and Mikey moved the kitchen, camping fridge, and the coolers to the court. Setting up the stage by the hoop facing Dick Ryder's place and the barbeque kitchen near Hardy Simon's home. Connecting a water hose and the power to his garage. A few neighbors added their tables and garden chairs to set up an outdoor café. Stringing up party lights around the field.

Hardy, Steel, and their buff biker friends talked a bit with Michael. That afternoon, Mike got introduced to all the denim and leather-clad bodybuilders. All were looking and acting a little too horny for their own good. Apparently, their bro's night out had been canceled in favor of an ordinary group orgy. Mike saw Hardy Simons and Rick Steel throw angry looks at Conner and Vincent Kumsukba. 

Mike took Hardy aside. Asking: "Have you tried talking to Vincent?... Or isn't this about him resigning?..." asked Michael
"Yeah, it is actually... And I still blame you..." said Hardy.
"Look, I don't know what has been going on between you and Vincent before I moved here... But for fuck sake... Talking can't hurt... Be the better man and give in a little... I am sure you figured out why he could not stay with you acting up all the time... Talk to him, Hardy..." said Mike.

Steel had walked up to the two and said: "I am really sorry, Michael... I should not have taken advantage of you like that on Monday... Sorry man... Roy told me how you've helped with our problems these last eighteen months..." 
Rick Steel was looking Michael up and down. It was obvious that he liked what he saw because he openly uttered: "You fill those leather pants out well, bro..."
"Eye's up here, Steely..." laughed Michael.
"Yes, Sir!..." Called Rick laughingly.
"That's better... hahaha... But stick with Mike or Michael... I don't know about sir... I need a lot more help before I can call myself that..." smirked Michael. "Are we still on for Friday?... I cleaned and painted the house already..."
"Sure... Friday at two... It looks very nice, by the way, Mike..."
"Steel... One more thing... They only caught one of the assholes... I still expect much more trouble from those skinheads I keep hearing about... I have a bad premonition for tonight... Can you and your man keep an eye out tonight?... What if they turn up now?..." said Michael worriedly.
"Sure thing, buddy... If you give us a bit of that ass some time... We can always use a guy like you in our gang... By the way, how did you like that dirt bike in the garage?..." asked Rick.

"Looks real nice... but is that really part of the deal?..." replied Mike.
"Yup... as soon as you hand over the cash, it's yours... I got the transfer papers ready for you on Friday..." said Rick.
"Fucking cool..." called Michael. "Now, you two... Be the better masters and make it up with the twins... I am off to see a guy about a T-Bone..." laughed Michael.

Watching Hardy's and Rick's jovial expressions disappear like snow for the sun.
"What are you going to see that Johnson for?..." asked Hardy irately.
"Not that it's any of your business, Simons... But I am dating him..." said Michael astonished.
Steel grunted: "Grumpff... Suit yourself... He's no good... That wimp..."
"Language Steely!... Or Master Cox will get mad again... Anyway... Thanks, guys... Have fun... It may get a bit noisy out here tonight... Feel free to join... It might be fun to get back in touch with the neighbors... See you Friday, Rick... Hardy... Go talk with the twins, but be nice about it, please..." said Michael J Cox, unperturbed. But Mike knew neither Hardy and Steel nor Vincent and Conner would talk things through.

Conner asked: "What was that all about?... Everything okay, Michael?..."
"Sure thing... Wanted Hardy to talk with Vincent... Patch things up... Doesn't look like the forgiving kind, though..." said Michael.
"Ha, well, I could have told you that..." said Conner with a mean laugh.

"I will not waste my time with people like that..." sighed Mike. "Nice setup you got here, Conner... Is that a Yamaha keyboard?... May I?..." asked Michael. Conner nodded and switched on the power. Mike started to play Bohemian rhapsody, and the band was astonished by the boy's skills on the keyboard. The band followed Mikey sound checking their equipment for tonight's gig. When Mike switched on the microphone and started singing, all the neighbors, Steel's gang, and the band were shocked.
After the song, Conner said: "Damn, kiddo... You got skills... If you need a part-time job as a session musician, give me a call..." laughed Conner handing him his production company business card.

Michael's mind was already elsewhere, though. After hearing 'part-time job', he thought of Tomas. His stomach gave another rumble, and he made his excuses. Jumping in his car and raced to his friend's restaurant. Unlike yesterday, Tomas saw the boy coming and rushed over to him. He very publicly flung his arms around Michael and pulled the boy in close. Giving him a sloppy kiss on the lips. "Missed you, buddy... How did the house cleaning go?..." he asked, interested.
"Man... It went great... It looks amazing...I am sorry I am so late... I only have time for a quick bite... The street barbeque starts at seven... And I am not sure there is enough food for all the neighbors..." gasped Michael, out of breath. As if he had run the mile from his house to the T-Bone.

Peter, the head chef at the T-Bone, called the two guys into the kitchen. He had heard the two talk about the barbeque. "Hey Mike,... How are you?..."
"Doing great, Chef..." he laughed. "Any chance for a quick bite?..."
"Sure, what will it be?..." the chef asked.
"Uhmmm... A marinaded pork steak with peas and carrots would be delicious. And can I have some fried potato cubes with applesauce?..." asked Michael somewhat timidly. Not sure if the T-Bone even served stuff like that.

"Sure thing... Here is an apron... Meat is in the freezer, and ask the sous chef to cook you the peas and baby carrots... Use the stove across from me... I want to see how you stand the heat in my kitchen..." joked the chef handing Mike a black apron. Michael knew this was a test, but he had plenty of kitchen experience working in the campus cafeterias.
The chef watched the boy as he marinated two slabs of pork. Frying up the potato cubes. Asking the sous chef to cook two small portions of peas and baby carrots. Clarifying the butter sauce himself. To say that the kitchen brigade and Tomas Johnson were impressed was an understatement. Mike timed the vegetables perfectly with the meat and potatoes. Plating the food up nicely and drizzling the butter sauce over the peas like a pro.

Tomas had set two place settings on the table in the kitchen and served Mike a nice glass of red wine. When Mike had cut up his pork, Peter stole a bit of it. "Hmmm... That's cooked perfectly, Mike... And I love the sauce with the carrots and peas... Plane but delicious... Now... Did I hear this correctly... Are you having a street barbeque?... Hand me the keys to your car... I have some surplus food that needs to be cooked tonight... It would help us out too... Boss... Can we keep this one?... Mike is as good in the front as in my kitchen..." asked the head chef, Peter.

"Sure thing... I am not letting this one go, Peter... I like him too... And he has a business degree!... So he can help with the admin also... I do hope you want the job, Michael... I can't stand to be apart from you too long..." said Tomas hotly.
"Now then... That's the easiest job interview I ever had... Thanks, guys... I'll give it a thought... Hahaha... Sure I will... I can work weekends... But I don't come cheap..." grinned Michael. "That's settled then..." giggled Tomas as he god fed some pork by Michael.

When Mike left the T-Bone, his car was ladened with meats, salads, fruits, and drinks. The freshly baked bread made Mikey's car smell like a bakery. Michael had asked Tomas to take the rest of the week off. Spending time with Mikey at his place. Even though Tomas was a little reluctant to leave the T-Bone.
Peter said the T-Bone could manage without Tomas for a few days. Mike had given the chef his phone number and email address. Saying they would only be ten minutes away. Peter wished the lovers a great time. Told the twinks he would not be bugging them unless the T-Bone was on fire. This shook Tomas a little, but he knew Peter meant well. Both guys watched Michael drive away by himself.

Mike had a distinct impression that his car was being followed when he drove back home. So much so that he took a picture of the pickup truck's license plate behind him. Sending it straight to Roy Peterson. Mike sped up and bypassed Bush street. Swinging into the city center, Michael lost his tail. Feeling safe, he drove back. Parking his car in the now empty garage bay. Getting some of the neighbor kids to help unload the food supplies he had brought. Conner's band had the neighbors dancing, and soon the smells from the BBQ made everyone feel hungry. 

The evening went great. Until Mike spotted the same pickup truck driving very slowly around Bush street. To Mike's great horror, he recognized one of the men. It was the same one that had asked him in the T-Bone where he was going yesterday. Clearly looking for something. But it seemed Michael was the only one spooked by the strangers driving around the neighborhood. However, to Michael's relief, they left as suddenly as they came.

Michael cooked the meat from the T-Bone. Getting helped by some kids that played waiter. The band played their gig, and everything seemed to be in order. The neighbors came and chatted with Mike, and the atmosphere was happy and relaxed. People danced, ate, and were merry. Until sirens from fire trucks were heard racing out of town toward the highway. Nothing odd, it seemed. "This happens all the time... As it is the main route in and out of town... Probably some car crash on the highway..." assured some of the neighbors, Michael. However, Mike's stomach wasn't so sure.

More and more sirens screamed past below the neighborhood. A kid came running up the field from the bus stop. Screaming: "There is a big fire by the offramp..." Michael knew the only major building near the highway offramp was the T-Bone truck stop. But he did not want to jump to any conclusions just yet. He checked his phone. Expecting Tomas to text Michael if anything was wrong. Until the gathered crowd saw a mushroom-shaped explosion bellowing over the treetops.

"Ha... Someone else is having a barbeque..." Joked one of the fathers. Michael snapped: "Realy dude?... Does that look like something you joke about?... People might be hurt!..." Mike said it so loud and angrily that a hush fell over the crowd. Even the band stopped playing. Michael switched off the propane supply to the BBQ and closed the lids. He was worried. Rechecking his phone, Mike walked over to the stage. He tried to call Tomas, the T-Bone, and the head Chef Peter. But no one answered their phones.

Someone screamed: "The exit to our street is blocked... And cars are burning..." This sent a wave of panic through the neighbors. They had all experienced this once before. The skinheads had burned one home to the ground and scared a few neighbors into leaving.
Michael grabbed a microphone and said: "Stay calm... Listen up... I guess the troubles ain't over yet... If you don't want to stay, then go down the path to the bus stop... Head into the center of town... You'll be safe there... Make sure you take your phones with you and make videos for evidence... The rest... Go home and roll out the garden hoses... Those arseholes are not going to terrorize us again!... Someone warn Mister Simons... And someone call the police and fire departments!..."

"Don't worry... we're here... " called the gang from Rick Steel.
"On it..." shouted another.
The women left down the footpath with a group of younger children. Some of the men stayed behind. Mike gestured to the soundman to kill the sound system Saying to the men: "... We are not going to fight unless we really have to... Take photos for evidence... Hardy... Take some men down the hill and make sure the skinheads take the lower fork..." Hardy and Steel directed their men, and Michael called Roy Peterson on his cell phone. He answered and said the police were on their way. 

A group of twelve or fourteen skinheads ran up the hill toward the basketball court. They had baseball bats and burning torches. Setting light to shrubs and the grass as they went. The leader of the skinhead group ran a bit in front of the rest. Swinging his aluminum bat wildly. Clearing a path for his men.
Mike jumped down from the stage and ran toward him. As if from a far distance, someone called at Michael to get out of the skinhead's way. But Mike was determined to put a stop to the fucker. Helped by the homophobic nonsense that the arsehole was spouting. The skinhead swung his bat wide. Aiming for Michael's chest. But Mike was prepared for this. He stiffened his muscular chest and braced himself. The baseball bat connected hard. Its hollow sound reverberated between the houses. 

Michael did not move an inch. The backlash resulted in the skinhead hurting one of his wrists. He took another swing. Aiming higher this time. As in slow motion, Michael saw the bat's tip coming toward him. He grabbed on to the point and yanked the bat right out of the hooligan's hand. Mike's arm recoiled and smacked the handle on the skinhead's nose. Michael lost grip of the bat for a moment seeing it do a backflip in mid-air. The skinhead leader was stunned. His nose was broken. Michael caught the bat by the handle and swung it violently upward. Planting it meanly between the guy's legs. 

The sound of agony the skinhead made was short-lived. He toppled over backward and lay motionless on the floor. Michael looked astonished at the neighborhood fathers and Rick Steel's friends. They uttered a primal scream together and ran toward the rest of the group. Fists were flying. The few hooligans that slipped away ran toward Dick Ryder's place. That was a stupid thing to do. Since Ryder let his shotgun do its thing. Right at that time, a police SUV screamed up the footpath. Blocking the retreating group. Arresting all but one of the arseholes.

The one that got away ran past Michael. Toward number twelve, Bush street, taking a party torch shouting: "All gays must burn..." Setting light to Hardy's hedge, Michael's garbage dumpster, and the Kumsukba's backyard. How far this guy got, Michael did not know. He had only one thing on his mind. Go to the T-Bone and find Tomas Johnson. 

Mike feared the worst. His hot hatchback was blocked by the trailer from the band. He ran inside the house, threw his biker jacket on, and grabbed a helmet. Flinging the garage door open, Michael jumped on the dirt bike. Pointing it across the yard and tearing down the street.
The skinheads had barricaded the access in and out of the Bush street area. Burning their three stolen pickup trucks. Even the fire department could not pass. Michael took a risk and jumped the curb. Racing past the firefighters toward the T-Bone. How he managed to dodge the traffic, Mike did not know. 

Michael found Tomas in a severe state of shock, standing in the parking lot watching the fire. The skinheads had set fire to some trucks. One was loaded with flammable barrels. They exploded, sending their volatile cargo yards across in every direction. Another was a tanker. It was the one that had burst into the mushroom cloud of fire. Taking out most of the windows of the restaurant and motel.

Mike stepped off the bike and walked to the side of Tomas. Whispering: "You okay, buddy?... Anyone hurt?..." Tomas just looked aside a moment and then froze again. Michael could see his friend was far from okay. They stood side by side for a moment until Mike felt Tomas's fingers touching his. He put an arm around Johnson, and the man collapsed on Mike's shoulder. "Dang,... You're frozen, buddy... Let's get you inside..." Tomas was unable to speak. He let it all happen. Michael guided him into the restaurant. Setting Tommy in one of the booths away from the broken windows.

Peter came running out of the kitchen with a firefighter and a policewoman. The policewoman started screaming and shouting at the two twinks. Ordering them out of the building. Michael just calmly said: "This is the T-Bone's owner... He needs medical assistance... Your shouting is not going to help Tomas Johnson... Peter... Are the gas and water switched off?... Switch off the electricity to all but the kitchen... Let's keep the freezers running for as long as they can... Have the staff remove the broken glass from the windows. Then have them close the blinds outside the building to keep out the rain and wind..."
This efficiency pleased Peter. "Peter... if you can... Empty the tills and grab the administration and insurance papers... I will pack a bag for Tommy... He is going with me... officer... Please watch over him... fireman... Follow me into the back... Keep my ass safe while I pack an overnight bag for the owner..."

When Michael and the fireman walked back into the restaurant, the policewoman was nowhere to be seen. This outraged Michael and the fireman to no end. The firefighter and Michael hoisted a jacket onto Tomas and frogmarched him back to Mike's dirt bike. Michael handed the fireman his card. Telling him to contact Sergeant Peterson.
Saying to Tomas: "Hold on tight, buddy... You are going with me... No sense in hanging around here... What happens will happen... If we are not safe at Bush street, then we will get a hotel in town..." The fireman nodded, and the chef waved as the twinks rolled back up the street.

The fire department had its hands full. A full-blown forest fire had erupted between the T-bone and the offramp. Threatening the forest behind Bush street as well. Mike asked the firefighters at the bottom of Bush street if he could return home. They told him the road would be blocked for a while. Saying that the houses were safe as long as the wind did not change. Michael raced up the footpath and across the deserted basketball court. With Tomas hanging on for dear life. Coming to a screeching halt in front of Mike's wide open house door. In all the excitement, Michael had completely forgotten to lock the house. 

One of the biker friends from Hardy's gym was a paramedic by day. He ran toward Tomas. Recognizing something was wrong with the man. The rest walked behind him from Hardy's place to Mike's. Wanting to hear Mike's story and get some answers. But Michael gestured to them to stop. Michael let them know that he and Tomas were okay, but they did not wanted to be disturbed until morning. Saying they could go back home and get to bed. Telling them the police and Fire department would warn them if they needed to evacuate. Mike and the paramedic took Tomas inside. Examining Tomas, the paramedic found nothing wrong. Tomas just wanted to go to sleep.

The paramedic said to Michael: "He should see a doctor in the morning... Let him sleep for now... But keep an eye on him... And keep him calm..."
Michael helped Tomas to undress and crawled next to him. With an arm over Tommy's heart, he could feel the guy relax. Mike leaned over and kissed Johnson goodnight. But as Michael was ready to forget all about today, Tomas regained his senses.

"Mikey?..." asked Tomas softly.
"Yeah, buddy?..." said Michael warmly. "How are you doing?..."
"Okay, I think... Better, now that you are with me... Mikey?... Can you please lay on top of me for a while..." said Tomas.
"Sure... But... Oh well... Here we go... Move your legs closer together, bud..." Michael said as he gingerly laid his body on Tomas. Tomas Johnson let out a soft moan. Wrapping his arms over Michael's naked back. Sticking one of his cold hands in Mike's boxers. "Hey now!... are you sure this is a good idea?... Let's take it easy, buddy... You've had a rough night... We both had..." said Michael feeling Tom's fingers drumming his rose butt.

"Awe, man... I want to thank you... I need to... I want to... Can we make love a little?..." pleaded Tomas. And Michael gave in. He kissed his friend. Feeling how Tomas got harder and harder. Mike lost his underwear and felt Tommy's cock spring up between Mike's legs. Michael rotated his hips a bit and let Tomas enter the love tunnel. Parking himself just past the entrance. The two twinks cuddled like this for a long time.

"Tommy?..." asked Michael softly.
"Hmmm?..." replied Tomas.
"Tomas Johnson... do you want to be my boyfriend?..." said Michael warmly. Hoping for a favorable reply.
"Hell, yeah, I would love that!... I was wondering when you would ask me... Mikey... Actually... There is something else..." said Tomas rather suddenly.

"Hmmm?... What dear?..." said Michael unsurely.
"Michael, what does the J in your name stand for?..." asked Tomas.
"I hate my middle name... " replied Mikey, "It's Jeremiah... I never use it, though..." said Michael, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
"Okay... I can see why... So... Uhmmm... Michael Jerry Cox... Will you marry me?..." said a bright awake Tomas Johnson to his lover.

With his eyes as wide as saucers and a blush, Michael replied: "Damn dude... That's a bit quick... Let me give that some thought..." But he grinned when he jokingly said it. In a split second, Thomas's demeanor had changed from happy to sad, though. So, Mikey added: "Ah, let's live a little... Yes, Tomas Johnson, I would love to marry you!... As long as we can still see other people as well... I am no one's boy... Let's keep dating for a while... I love you too much to skip this part..." said Michael. Kissing Tomas long and hard.

"Fuck, I am glad you put it like that... I would love an open relationship... As long as we end up in the same bed together... You had me worried for a while, though... I love you, Mikey Mike!... Here take my ring..." Tomas took his signet ring off and slit it onto Mike's ring finger. The signet ring had two intertwined circles. It matched perfectly with Michael's earring.
"Awe, Man, it's beautiful... Thanks... I don't have a ring for you... Oh, wait, I do... I found this in the attic dungeon..." Michael blushed as he said it. He had not told Tomas about the playroom upstairs. He took a plain silver ring out of the bedside table draw. It had two black grooves engraved in it. It was unmarked, so Michael did not feel too bad he had not bought it. Apparently, neither did Tomas. The man grabbed onto his love and thrust his hips upward. Tomas grunted hard, stuffing his ten-inch cock in deep. He sat up. Nearly bending Michael double. He used his considerable muscle strength to stand up with Mikey hanging off Tom's neck.

"Okay... Point me the way... I want to see that playroom... This better be good... BOY!... I own you now!..." said Tomas ruthlessly.
"Yes, daddy... Down the hall up the attic stairs... daddy..."
"That's sir Tom to you!... Boy..." grinned Tomas as he bounced Michael roughly on his hips. Riding Mikey hard.
"Sir... Yes sir... here we are, sir Tom..." said Micheal when they arrived in the attic.
"Bloody hell, boy... Don't keep secrets like this from me!... Can I give you my babies up here?... I am going to breed that hot ass of yours... BOY!..." laughed Tomas.
He dropped Michael in the sling. Not taking his hot shaft out of the boy. Tom looked around him. Seeing the potential this dungeon playroom had. He grinned as he saw the shackles and ropes on the wall. Telling Michael: "Fuck, we will have so much fun here... I'd love to bind you over that bench and take you from behind..."

Although Tomas said it in a loving tone of voice, Michael declined. Saying, "Nah ah... I don't think I like that... You can put me on the bench... And even fuck me hard from behind... But getting tied down... No, Fucking way, Jose!..."
"Do you know about stop words, Mikey?... I use the streetlight system in my bondage play... I love to tie people with rope... Nothing like Hardy Simons or that idiot Rick Steel... They just capture anyone and use them without respect or trust... They don't care whom they hurt... I do... I want to play save... Take some control away, but never cross the line... Full well knowing that afterward, you're safe, unhurt, and satisfied beyond belief... And well... I will have gotten my rocks off too... Win-win... I do love to teach and push the boundaries, though..." said Tomas to his mate. "Tonight, we can try something much more subtle, though..." 

Tomas let his big porn-star cock slide out of Michael's slightly clenched ass. The boy had gotten nervous hearing Tomas speak. But he did not protest. If Mike was going to try shit like that, it would be with someone like Tomas. The best thing about hearing Tom speak about bondage was that he slowly kept sliding his dick in and out of Mike's aperture. Loosening him up even though Mikey was puckering the sphincter a little.

Tomas grabbed Michael's arm and said: "Go position yourself on that bench... Knees on the lower side and elbows on the higher... Stomach pressed down and ass in the air... Don't worry, baby... I am not going to tie you up... We are going to try something else first... I am so fucking horny right now..."

Mike tilted his head a little and had a puzzled look in his eyes. He could not defy Tomas. Not now he knew that Tom wanted to become his husband in the future. This was just the first step of many, figured Michael. So Mike did as suggested. Laying on the fuck bench with his ass in the air. Tomas walked behind Michael with a leather paddle in his hand. Mike looked behind him and squinted his eyes warningly.
Tomas defied Mike and smacked the buttock once. The sound was much worse than the pain. Mike let out a little yelp. Tommy bent over and kissed the spot where the paddle had hit. Licking a wet tongue over the area. "That technique is called; Kiss and makeup... Want more?..." asked Tomas.

To Michael's own surprise, he muttered: "Sir, Yes, please, sir..."
Tom smacked the paddle down harder. Once on the left and then on the right ass cheek. Again he bent and licked. Spitting rudely at the winking asshole. Again Tomas gave the buttocks a few love taps. Softly kissing, sucking, and licking the tormented buttocks. Mike's screams had become somewhat louder. But the pleasurable grunts afterward also got more pronounced. Suddenly Michael realized what Tomas was doing. Tom wasn't beating Mike's ass for his pleasure but for Michael's enjoyment. And that made all the difference.

Tom stuck a finger in Mike's ass and smacked the boy on the back. Michael closed the backdoor with a bang. But Tomas pushed in any way and pressed against the boy's prostate. Sending a wave of ecstasy through Michael. Two fingers, four rough paddle strikes, and the prostate tickling made Michael's cock start leaking. Tomas saw this and pulled the hard tail back. Grabbing onto it with a hand around the base and his lips around the boy's glans. If this would go on much longer, then Michael would have to drop his load before Tomas would fuck the crap out of him.

But Tomas Johnson was in total control right now. He stood behind Michael and penetrated the boy doggy style. Mike screamed his head off as the ten inches disappeared into his gut in a split second. He had felt Rick Steel and Hardy Simons do this as well. But the way Tomas did it had purpose and meaning behind it. Michael loved it. The other two had started pounding like mad men right away. 

But Tomas just bent over Michael's back. He lay still on top of Michael, listening to how the boy calmed down. Then he slowly gyrated his hips. Gently and in long, tender strokes. Using all of Tom's considerable length. Not to please himself, although he did enjoy Michael's ass very much. No, this was to please Mikey Mike, his boy, his man. A lover, friend, and future mate.

< Continued in chapter 7 >

Thank you for reading this story. 
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And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spunk! ;-)

(C) StrykerJ - 09-2022