Four by Flash #5 – Not Him

Happy New Year! Here’s a piece I wrote during the flash fiction challenge, and specifically as a Kink Bingo fill for the word “silence.” Hope you enjoy!

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Michael smiles at the man as his lips wrap languidly around a beer bottle. The stranger is tall and tan, long hair falling into blue-green eyes. The similarities end there, proportions off, not tall enough, muscle and bone sloping in ways that are unfamiliar and wrong. He likes it. Michael takes his time on the bottle, playing it up, and when he returns it to the bar empty, he winks, drops a bill on the counter, and slides off his stool. He walks away confident that by the time he hits the back door, he’ll be followed. He isn’t wrong.

The guy clears his throat as they step into the alley, and Michael turns, smiles, nods.

“I, uh,” the stranger starts.

Michael is on him, shoving roughly against the cool brick, pinning him there with hips, hands, and mouth. The stranger groans, pushes back with his groin. That’s all the encouragement he needs before he shoves his hands down to the guy’s pants, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping. He draws back, catching his breath, and the stranger decides to talk.

“I’m Jared,” he laughs shakily.

Michael grunts a response and latches his mouth on Jared’s neck, sucking and biting a bruise.

“How about you?” Jared’s squirming, a low moan rumbling in his chest.

Michael’s wrapped his hands around the guy’s cock now, and it’s leaking, precome oozing out heavily. He slip-slides his thumb through it, strokes the guy steadily. “Don’t wanna talk. Wanna fuck you.” The cock in his hand surges in agreement, and Jared thrusts into Michael’s hand.

Jared nods, exhales hard, and his hands go for Michael’s belt and fly, pushing jeans down to his knees.

When they’re both exposed, Michael takes the time to kiss the guy again, grinding his bare cock against Jared’s. Maybe some other night, under some other circumstances, he’d take this guy home, take his time, do things right. Not tonight. Things are different these days. He tears open the package he’s palmed, slides the slick condom on, and pushes away.

The guy turns, pressing hands to rough brick. Michael lines himself up and just before he thrusts in, he hisses, “Not a fucking sound.” Jared whimpers quietly and nods.

With that, Michael’s inside him, biting his lip against a groan, and he sets a punishing pace, unsure of just who the punishment is really for. His thrusts are hard, pelvis pressing flat against ass each time, and he lets himself focus on the way the stranger’s hair falls into his face, the way sweat trickles down the strong, tan back despite the chill, the tiny, whimpering noises Jared is trying to suppress.

Michael leans forward, wraps a hand around Jared’s cock as he feels the heat pool tight in his groin, strokes expertly with the abundant slick there. Jared groans quietly and comes on Michael’s hand, hot and thick, and Michael follows right after.

As he comes, the only thought that pounds through his head is Not Jake, not Jake, not Jake.

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