Their eyes met and he took hold of his leather harness and drew him to himself until they stood pressed to each other, each a fist around the other's cock, staring defiantly into each other's eyes.
They sat late over espressos, transfixed by one another, talking about how much they were like each other.
Chance had thrown them together at Lincoln Center. They were seated next to each other at Wozzeck, complete strangers who knew at the first meeting of their eyes that they were made for each other. Each was delighted to find in the other not just the looks he'd have been happy to go home with if they'd crossed paths on Christopher Street, but a person like himself with similar interests, pursuits, fantasies.
They did not have to make conversation. They just flowed into each other.
When the café closed they left and walked through the warmth of the spring night pleased with each other and proud of the success of what they teasingly began to call their first date.
You want to keep going, spend the night together? Sandy said with a winning combination of shyness and spunk.
Very much, Lex responded with a wink.
They took hold of each other's hands and on the dark street corner under the lamppost they faced each other and kissed themselves into erectility one more time and then stumbled across the street as if they become one being.
Lex's loft was all white and sparsely furnished. The few pieces in it lacked neither taste nor elegance. Everything was white -- furniture, walls, floor. But there were candles rather than electric light. Everything in consequence had an amber glow.
Lex wore a three-piece charcoal gray double-breasted Italian worsted with the faintest gray chalk stripe. His shirt was a white on white and his tie was a black, gray and silver striped silk. There was a matching breast pocket handkerchief and silver clocks adorned his black silk socks, which were held up under his trousers by silver garters. He wore gun metal black shoes of supple calf skin copied from a Berruti original. His hair was long and almost black. Tonight it was combed severely to his scalp and parted sharply on the right, highlighting his high cheekbones, square jaw, strong nose and white teeth. His eyes were wide set and of a penetrating gray. He was well-tanned, and to look at him you knew he had just spent a few weeks in the Caribbean.
Sandy was wearing a very dusty-hued three button brown suit with the palest sky blue chalk stripes. Like Lex, he favored a trouser pleated and cuffed, tight enough around the ass but flowing freely although not loosely, either, down the leg. His shirt, pocket handkerchief and socks were of the same celestial blue as the chalk stripe in his suit. So were his eyes. He wore a low boot of doe skin color with a slight heel. His hair was abundant and windblown and from its color you knew why from childhood "Justin" couldn't stick and everyone called him Sandy.
Lex poured a little armagnac into a snifter and put it to Sandy's lips.
Drink, he said.
Sandy took a sip.
Another, Lex said, and this time leave it on your lips.
Then he put the glass to his own lips. Then he covered Sandy's brandied lips with his own. Their mouths parted. Their tongues caressed. They stretched more fully into each other with kisses that turned their souls upside down.
As they continued to kiss, Sandy took hold of the perfectly fashioned Windsor knot at Lex's throat and gradually began to undo his tie until he had the two sides draping him like a scarf. Then he began to unbutton Lex's shirt. Without stopping their cadenza of kisses Lex reached the brandy glass safely onto a side table, a white marble slab set on a white enameled art deco iron base. In his turn he loosened Sandy's tie and began unbuttoning his shirt until he saw the shape of the sparkling wifebeater he wore. He pulled it up revealing Sandy's bare chest, and thrilled to feel that it was shaved. He molded his hand to the contours of the chest and kneaded his palm into the firm breasts. With his finger tips he traced the circles of the nipples and felt them stiffen. He lingered at the nipples, which he teased with alternating attention and frustration.
And then he went back to the lips, brushing kisses on them and then backing away repeatedly so that the more he fed Sandy with kisses the hungrier for them he became.
I'm gonna get you so hot you're not gonna know what you're doing, he whispered to him before delivering the kiss he had been making Sandy swoon for by withholding it. I'm going to turn you into my slave. You'd like that.
The very twitches of their bodies suggested the continuous ratcheting up of their energy and excitement.
Lex pulled himself back from a kiss just before it felt Sandy's lips, and instead whispered, Beg for it. Say please.
Please, Lex, Sandy said, and repeated it until the words became part of his breath. When his mouth was muffled with a kiss, he mouthed them inside the kiss he gave back.
It was with especial delight that Lex stared at Sandy as he lay stretched with the quilt thrown off him asleep in the candle light in only the black microfiber thong that Lex had given him to sleep in.
He was thinking before he began about what he was going to do to Sandy. He stared at him in wonderment. He was golden - and he was caught.
This one's too good to let get away, or to risk letting him have his own way. I want full command.
You belong to me, he whispered. You will be a magnificent leather slave.
Just sounding the words nearly made him swoon.
Then he startled Sandy awake with a rough kiss and a fist around his scrotum.
With his free arm he put weight on his chest, and said, audibly, Please me.
At which Sandy raised himself from supine to nearly sitting by leaning on his elbows. His eyes were clear but with the expression of wistful devotion. He raised his head and pressed his lips to Lex's and clung to him with his tongue, feeling himself dissolve inside this man as he'd never felt himself do with anyone before. This man was his fulfillment.
From the side table Lex took a soft leather strap and gently started dragging it over Sandy's body.
Feel it, Sandy, the delicacy of leather. It makes you know you have to obey.
Sandy opened his mouth deeper and surrendered to the joy of his master's kisses.
All he felt throughout his body, and throbbing in his nerves, and formulating itself in his mind was that he wanted this man inside him, that he wanted to give his body and his soul over to this man and serve him. He felt his muscles contracting with desire, and deep inside him he was flexing himself preparing himself, as desire flamed in him, to feel his master's cock inside him tearing to his depths.
As they kissed Lex gently stroked the crack where the thong had been pressing and found that eager hole, and gently circled it. He brought his hand to Sandy's mouth and with it full of his wetness returned to his bottom and pressed a finger deep inside him making him gasp and buck and jump. He pulled out of him and pulled his legs apart and arched him up into a perfect parabola, his chest muscles straining against his skin, his arms folded behind his head.
His cock was his hunting spear, and he entered Sandy's forest with it and played up and down his anal canal, fast and slow and changing his rhythm and dancing inside him, giddy with the animal power of earth and sunshine. All of Sandy's beasts responded with a fury of disciplined movement and charged at him grabbing hold of him and with quick repetitions of in-out breaths pulled him in and danced around him. Arcs of excitement breaking across his body, throbbing like a wave rolling to its crest, flailing, Sandy assaulted Lex's face with wild kisses.
Sandy had no objection to dressing in leather. He liked it. It gave him an opportunity to refashion himself.
Now he knew he was in good shape and he wasn't one of those queens who complain about something they know they have nothing to complain about, but are just fishing. But still, he thought, it could be better, better defined chest, get a little more tight contour in the ass.
He started working out, doing yoga and playing soccer. He liked the discipline of working out. It was his own special secret obedience training. He liked the dissolving heat of yoga and the awareness of his breath. He liked the jazz of soccer. It was Brazilian dancing. He lost himself in everything.
It all added up to he looked great. He was pleased. Lex was very pleased and whispered in his ear, Please me.
Sandy fell into a swoon and all his senses died, and in the hollow tunnel where something used to be, a tree began to grow, and his master's voice grew on the tree and he heard it leading to a stream from which he drank stretched out beside it his lips to the water.
Sandy was in leather -- pants, motorcycle jacket hanging open over bare, shaved chest and washboard abs, black leather band for a collar, boots, cap. He was waiting at The Bat nursing a brandy at the bar, indifferent to all the concupiscent gazes directed at him.
Lex entered the room. The contrast was stark -- the one a leather slut to make men's mouths water; the other impeccably, elegantly attired in worsted power suit and silken shirt, in shoes proud and supple of burnished leather, in such easy command of himself that it makes men daydream about worshipping him.
They approached each other and smiled. It was their conspiracy. They embraced and kissed and went over to the table that was waiting for them. Lex placed the flat of his palm under Sandy's jacket, cupping his hard breast, feeling is tight nipple. They knew they were being looked at. They were into it. It was power.
A shy, young, waiter with a high pompadour, wearing tight black trousers - they could see the discrete outline of his erection -- cummerbund, bow time, a form fitting waistcoat and a tiny silver earring approached the table and bowed before inquiring if he might take the gentlemen's order.