Sex in C Major

And the worst of it was that Stefan didn't even want to fix his insanity.

He was going to get hurt if he kept doing this. That guy he'd tried to hook up with before going and getting drunk with Daz? That guy could have been a psycho murderer. Daz could be an abuser. Stefan could end up chopped up in bins across the city if he didn't stop this destructive chase after a sexual thrill, but-

But he couldn't stop.

It was like this voice in the back of his head asked who the hell cared whenever things started to spiral out of control. Who cared? He didn't have anyone anyway. He was just another waste of time on benefits, perpetually and permanently single, and seriously fucked in the head. It wasn't like he could make anything worthwhile out of that anyway. And when it went right-when Daz had fucked him in the spare room, when he'd jerked off in that alley-it felt so good. So...so who cared that eventually, it was going to lead to something else entirely?

So when Daz called, almost a week after the phone sex in the alley, Stefan didn't even hesitate before reaching for the phone.

"Twelve noon. The Costa on Briggate. Be there."

"A coffee shop?"

"Yeah. You want a reminder of where you sit, this is it. Come to the shop. I'll be there having a drink with my partner. You don't approach us, you don't acknowledge us, you don't even look our way. I'll text you with more instructions later." "Will you punish me?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said you'd punish me for the other day."

"You asking to be hurt, is that it?"

Stefan swallowed. "I want you," he said honestly. "I want more."

"Like?"

"Just... more."

"Not good enough. If you want something, you have to spell it out."

Stefan flushed hotly.

"Too embarrassed?"

"I've had my fingers in your cunt and your lips bleeding because you're so desperate to scream for my cock. You really think you've any right to be embarrassed anymore?"

Stefan's cock twitched, and he took a ragged breath.

"Tell me."

"I want I want your cock." He took another breath, then it flooded out. "I want you to shove it down my throat until I choke on it. I want you to hold my thighs open and force it in me, dry so it hurts and I'm bleeding and I'm begging you to stop but really I want more. I want I want you to fuck me so hard that it aches for days and I can't move without feeling you. I want you to lock me in the spare room again, and make me listen when you have sex with your boyfriend, and it's gentle and tender, and then when he's asleep you come into the spare room and fuck me so deep that it hurts and I can't do anything but lie there and take it—"

"Twelve noon. Sharp."

The phone cut out, and Stefan sank down onto the mattress, heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest. He didn't know whether to feel humiliated or horny.

After a beat, Stefan undid his jeans and slowly began to stroke.

****

They were sitting outside when Stefan arrived.

He lingered in the entrance to Trinity Walk, watching for a moment where Daz was unlikely to notice. It was freezing, a couple of buskers shivering out songs, but Daz and Boyfriend were sat outside in heavy coats and hats anyway, clutching cups of steaming coffee in gloved hands. Boyfriend was poring over a heavy book on the table, and Daz appeared to be watching one of the buskers...and yet they were obviously together. Boyfriend had slung his legs over Daz's lap, and Daz was absently stroking the side of his knee. They looked...peaceful. Calm. Casually affectionate.

And Stefan felt...oddly jealous.

He shook himself, trying to get rid of the thought. He knew his place. He wasn't after a partner, he was after an owner. Daz wasn't supposed to stroke Stefan's knee. He was supposed to slap it.

Stefan hunched his shoulders and struck out, striding across the street like he owned the place and walking past the table like he'd no interest whatsoever in the good-looking guy sitting there with another man's legs in his lap. Instead, he swept into the heat of the shop, bought the cheapest thing they sold, and found an empty seat.

Then he put the phone on the table, and waited.

He didn't dare look out of the windows, in case Daz thought he was watching them. But he itched to do anyway. He felt...obvious. Like everyone had to know what he was doing. Who bought a cheap tea, sat alone, and then did nothing? Didn't play on their mobile, or read a paper? Who did that? He was obviously waiting for something, for someone, but without looking out of the windows...

The phone buzzed.