Sex in C Major

And Stefan hadn't-hadn't really known what to do with that.

He'd been packed into a taxi and given a twenty to pay for it when he got home. That jarred. It felt awful and heavy in his pocket, and the change cold in his fist as he walked up to the flat. Only when he put it on the kitchen counter, so he'd remember to give it back to Daz next time, did Stefan realise what it looked like.

It looked like-felt like he'd been paid.

The little pile of coins on the plastic counter-top looked like...like the remains of a fee. Like Stefan had been a professional whore and performed a service.

Raking his hands through his hair, Stefan wondered if that wasn't...partly true.

All of this talk about open relationships and sexual incompatibility, it boiled down to the simple fact that Daz, for whatever reason, wasn't allowed to fuck Yannis the way he wanted, so he'd fuck Stefan instead.

Stefan was just a replacement hole.

And he should be revolted. He ought to be disgusted, and never want to see Daz again. He should hate Daz for it, and want to find a proper boyfriend, not a—a client.

Only he didn't.

Only, as much as Stefan knew he should feel revulsion at being a sex aid for a man whose boyfriend didn't want to do that stuff, he didn't. He didn't. He had-he had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it more, that blowjob in the bathroom, because Yannis was outside. He'd come so hard he'd fainted when Yannis had caught them in the act. He hadn't known what to do with himself when Daz had been affectionate before calling the taxi.

With a cold chill, Stefan realised he didn't want the affection. Just...just the sex.

Oh God, he was sicker than he thought. He was going to fold up and become a sex slave, and he didn't even want a relationship out of it. He just wanted Daz's cock, Daz's hands, Daz's rough tone and cold distance. Stefan didn't want Daz's kisses, he wanted the man's kicks.

Stefan dropped to sit on the corner of his mattress, and rake at his hair again. Christ, what now? He was agreeing to sexual servitude. Willingly. What the hell was wrong with him? Normal people didn't agree to let someone control their lives in return for rape fantasies and imprisonment. Normal people didn't get into taxis sent by their-by their pimp, so they could open their legs and be fucked while the person their user actually wanted and loved was away.

Why the hell did he want any of this?

Feeling sick, Stefan's thoughts chased the other issue at hand. Nobody wanted any of this-but a man, even less so. He'd watched enough porn to know: women submitted. Men didn't. The odd time he'd watched gay porn, it was all fighting for top, clawing for dominance, and whoever lost didn't want it. But the women enjoyed yielding.

And if he enjoyed what Daz did to him-

The tears started. Hot and stinging, they blurred the floor and Stefan's legs, still clad in Yannis' jogging bottoms.

He was no man.

He'd never be a man, not like this. Daz had massaged his breasts. He'd fucked Stefan's vagina with those toys. And Stefan had enjoyed it. Stefan had come so hard it had hurt. He'd wanted it. No man wanted that! He shouldn't have enjoyed it, should have felt nothing, should even have been disgusted-but never, not ever, enjoyed it.

"I'm not," he croaked to the empty room. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not "

But the thought was undeniable.

He was a girl. And he'd always be one.

****

Stefan was woken by the phone ringing.

Groaning, he unglued bleary eyes and squinted at the ceiling. The damp patch wobbled and swayed. His head was pounding, and every muscle hurt.

The phone was still ringing.

"Shit," he mumbled. His tongue felt furry. When he groped for the mobile, his hand knocked over the empty bottles that had finally stopped the tears, the thoughts, and sent him to sleep.

He couldn't find it.

"Fuck's sake..."

He rolled. So did his stomach. Swallowing convulsively, he finally closed his fingers over the cool plastic case, and answered.

"Lo?"

"Morning."

Daz's voice was a low rumble that rattled at the solid lump of pain between Stefan's ears.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yes," Stefan mumbled sleepily.

"Keep waking. Meet me at the cafe at twelve. Don't be late."

"But-"

The call cut out. Stefan blinked, then put the phone down. His fingers were shaking. What did Daz want? Did he want another blowjob? Would Yannis be there? Were they going to talk, or fuck? Or both? Should Stefan try and prepare himself? What if it hurt too much he was still sore from yesterday morning, and the hangover hadn't helped mat-

His chin tingled with the phantom sensation of cum spilling over his lips, hot and slippery. His dick twitched with interest-and his stomach, far less enamoured with the idea, twitched in tandem.