Professional curiosity was the dickens, Quinn mused, sipping his Corpse Reviver in the bar at the Longworth Hotel, appreciating the smooth mixture of cognac, brandy, and sweet vermouth. He idly watched the beautiful women in their long gowns and the men in their tuxes eating dinner in the hotel's elegant dining room. Pastels were in vogue this season, the women in flattering soft shades, while the men made a stark contrast in black and white.
Not that this voyeurism was precisely professional curiosity, as Quinn was officially a sculptor, creating exquisite works of art for discerning collectors and museums. His occasional forays as a co-respondent were a mere sideline, though a lucrative one that had helped him in his earlier, more troubled times, before his art was noticed, respected, and commanded significant prices.
There, that woman. Quinn recognized her as she and her escort paused by the maitre d' before being shown to a table overlooking the large dance floor. Anna Witherspoon was an heiress, very young, and known to have recently made an unfortunate marriage to a man considered to be a fortune hunter. Her family had been enraged and tried to have the marriage annulled. They must not have made a large enough donation to the church or ran into a particularly difficult priest with scruples, because an annulment had not been announced. The next alternative was divorce. The appearance of infidelity, a co-respondent willing to spend the night with the wife and have his picture taken as proof, was one of the few reliable ways to convince a judge to sign the paperwork.
Edward Horton was the best attorney in New York to arrange such activities, but why had he asked this stranger instead of Quinn? Quinn turned his attention to the young man, his breath catching in his throat at the sight. He was beautiful, his pomaded hair looking dark brown but with a ginger sheen. He was smiling at Anna as he held out a lighter for her cigarette, a smile both infectious and charming. The color of his eyes was difficult to determine across the room, green or blue most likely. He was significantly shorter than Quinn, with a figure that was trim and lithe in his tuxedo. The interloper was young, probably mid-20s. Is that why Edward had picked him? He was closer in age to Anna and would more likely appear convincing as a sudden love interest. Quinn had reached the grand old age of 40 last year, and could almost appear to be Anna's father.
Only to those without Quinn's proclivities, though, would the interloper look truly interested in Anna as a lover. Somehow, Quinn could always tell when a man was interested in other men, not women, and this gorgeous interloper shared his preferences. Edward could usually tell too, bluntly noting when he'd first asked Quinn to be a co-respondent that his disinterest in women was a prime advantage. "I'm arranging a divorce for a very vulnerable woman in difficult circumstances. You taking advantage of a night spent alone is the last complication I need, you understand that?"
Quinn had readily agreed, quite happy to spend his nights as a co-respondent with a woman in lingerie, innocuously playing cards or listening to her tell of her troubles. Some of the women he'd helped had become the greatest patrons of his art. Women loved a man who actually listened.
The young man tucked his cigarette lighter away without beginning to smoke himself, for which Quinn was grateful. The ads touted the health benefits of smoking but Quinn always found the smell unpleasant, particularly when it lingered on a person's breath. The young man's kisses should be sweet, not bitter.
The waiter stopped by with their menus, blocking Quinn's view of the table. He finished his drink, contemplating his options for the rest of the evening. His initial curiosity about why he hadn't been selected was satisfied, but now he was even more intrigued by the interloper. Who was he? What did he do? How would he look, sprawled naked on Quinn's bed? Quinn slid off the bar stool and headed toward the maitre d'.
The next morning, Quinn was waiting outside the Longworth, this time wearing a brown suit rather than last night's tuxedo. He was bright and early, knowing that Horton would want the detective to 'catch' the young lovers in the act and have the photographic evidence documented before too many people were checking out of the hotel. Discretion in infidelity was the key, just enough evidence to convince a judge, not enough to cause a scandal for the wealthy client.
Benjamin left the hotel first, and alone, which suited Quinn fine. The young man was still in his tuxedo, but the pomade had worn off, leaving his hair looser and shining in the morning sun. Straightening up from his Chevrolet Eagle, he called, "Benjamin," the only name he'd been able to pick up last night, curse Anna's casual intimacy of never once referring to him as 'Mr. Whatever.'
Stopping at the sound of his name, Benjamin looked at Quinn with an assessing eye before approaching him. "Yes?" he asked hesitantly.
"I'm Quinn." He held out his hand. "I'm a friend of Edward Horton."
"Mr. Horton, yes." Benjamin shook his hand, his grip strong and sure, even if his fingers were significantly smaller than Quinn's. "I didn't realize anyone would pick me up."
"It's something of an unplanned addition."
"Everything went well, didn't it? I followed Mr. Horton's instructions precisely."
Quinn opened the car door on the passenger side. "I'm sure it did." Taking a wry tone, he added, "And if it didn't, you will hear from Edward, loudly and emphatically."
Benjamin gave a rueful smile. "Yes, he did seem the type to articulate with great thoroughness." Getting into the car, he asked, "You were there, weren't you? You had dinner several tables from us."
So while Benjamin's attention had seemed fixed on Anna, he'd been noticing Quinn? That was a good sign for Quinn's hopes. He shut the door and got in the driver's side before answering. "Yes, another unplanned addition. Are you hungry?"
"Starving. They ordered room service to show us cozily eating as we were interrupted by the detective, but then Anna wanted to dress and I felt I should leave. I had taken off my jacket and shirt, but wore my tee-shirt the entire time," he added, seeming to feel the need to reassure Quinn that he had acted as a proper gentleman.
"Let's go to a small café I know. The food is excellent and quick."
"That sounds fine. I could eat a horse. And coffee, there must be coffee."
Definitely a man after his own heart, though Quinn often enjoyed a cup of tea too. They didn't speak much until they were settled at the café, in a dark corner in the back, isolated from the other diners, drinking hot cups of coffee after having ordered breakfast. No one had paid any attention to Benjamin wearing a tuxedo. New Yorkers were familiar with carousers coming home late from parties.
Benjamin beat Quinn to the punch, speaking while staring at Quinn's big hand wrapped around the white porcelain cup. "Are you Quinn, the sculptor?"
"My fame has spread wider than I anticipated. Yes, I do sculpt."
"I've seen some of your sculptures. They're quite – evocative."
"I find the human body fascinating, the male body in particular."
Benjamin's cheeks appeared to blush in the dim light. "Yes, your work is reminiscent of the great Greek and Roman masterpieces. The beauty of the male form is magnificent."
Quinn smiled and nodded. "I thank you for the compliment." He was cheered by how much Benjamin seemed intrigued by his work. "And what do you do? Are you an artist?"
"I write, but I'm only on the outskirts of the New York art scene. I'm working on my first novel but I also do some free-lance journalism, copy-editing, whatever comes my way and helps me earn a living." He waved one hand at his tuxedo-clad body. "Keeps this body fed." With a frown, he asked, "But I don't understand why Mr. Horton had you watch me. Was he concerned that I wouldn't perform appropriately?"
"Actually, he didn't ask me to watch you," Quinn admitted baldly. He wanted honesty between the two of them. "I came to his office yesterday to discuss some business and overheard him talking to you on the phone. I was curious, as I thought I handled all his co-respondent needs."
"You?" Benjamin was clearly shocked.
"I was not always successful as a sculptor. Edward's side jobs tided me over many times." Quinn waved a hand at himself. "Keeping this body fed."
Benjamin's face contorted for a second, as if he were forcing himself to stay silent, perhaps preventing himself from making a comment about Quinn's body? Quinn had definitely wanted to make an admiring comment about Benjamin's. "But if he had you, why did he ask me?" Now Benjamin's face was a picture of confusion, total disbelief that he could be chosen over Quinn for a romantic liaison.
"I think it's your age. You and Anna looked quite believable as a couple."
"Oh. Yes, she's just a year younger than me. We had lots of time to talk."
And Benjamin had taken the time to listen.
The waitress stopped by, setting their plates down in front of them, with a cheerful, "Here you go." The eggs, bacon, and toast were perfectly cooked.
"So if you were only curious, why did you come back this morning?"
"Two reasons." Quinn took some time to crunch a piece of bacon, pleased to note how Benjamin's gaze often lingered on his lips and hands, even as he began eating his own meal. "I was hoping that your circumstances were the same as mine had been and that you would be receptive to some part-time modeling work. As an artist, I find your features compelling."
"I would love to model for you. At standard rates."
Quinn was amused at the reference to rates. Benjamin wasn't a shrinking violet who would allow anyone to take advantage of him. But then, Quinn wasn't either, so they were well-matched in that regard.
Quinn slowly licked the faint trace of bacon grease from his fingers, watching as Benjamin tried to subtly gaze at Quinn's big hands. "Most of my art is of nudes. I would require you to pose without any clothes. I do have occasional visitors who drop by, but the studio door would be locked, so you could cover yourself with a robe before anyone else entered."
Benjamin shrugged at the concern. "I would be honored to be your muse. I never imagined I would have the honor to meet you, much less pose for you."
Letting his admiration of Benjamin's face and form show in his eyes, Quinn answered, "Good. I believe I will find you highly inspirational."
"And the second thing?"
"Do I really need to spell that out?"
"Yes, I think you do."
"Some discussions are best oblique."
"And sometimes too much obliqueness can lead to misunderstandings, and even violence."
Quinn hoped Benjamin hadn't experienced such violence first-hand, but it was certainly a possibility. The few times Quinn's instincts had let him down, leading to Quinn being involved in a severe misunderstanding – well, he'd gotten his height and wide shoulders early. Men backed away from him if offended by his desire. Benjamin didn't have the same built-in protection. "To be blunt, then, I hope the first thing, of you posing for me, will lead to the second thing, where after you have posed for me in the nude, in all your glorious flesh, and I have put my hands all over you, to pose you as I need you, then I take you to my bed and learn everything there is to know about your body and your body's responses." Quinn leaned closer, speaking very quietly but making each word precise, clear. "Including what it feels like to put my prick between your tight ass cheeks and bugger you, until I feel your ass cheeks squeeze me tightly as you explode from the little death."
Benjamin was silent for a long moment, staring, those beautiful blue-green eyes wide and clear, until Quinn began to fear he might call for the nearest constable and press for an obscenity charge.
"Do we need to follow that order?" Benjamin finally asked. "I would be quite agreeable to advancing immediately to the second order of business. Even this morning would be fine. Unless you have a requirement to sculpt first."
"I am an artist. I have never felt bound to rules or order. And this morning would be agreeable. My apartment is quite close."
"Oh, good." Benjamin began wolfing down his food, but Quinn rested his hand of top of one of his.
"Don't make yourself ill eating too fast. I have plans for that body that do not involve a stomach ache."
"Yes, Master," Benjamin said with a teasing tone in his voice, but the words shot straight to Quinn's cock.
"Besides, we need to be able to walk out of here and appear respectable, which I cannot currently."
"No, nor me," Benjamin admitted.
"Tell me of your novel."
"It's the tale of a young man who comes to the big city and is introduced to a life of debauchery, so perhaps it is not the best subject to discuss. And your art is definitely not a helpful topic."
"The Yankees?" Quinn suggested, searching for a neutral topic.
"Athletic men in breeches and socks that cling to their calves? I think not."
"Did you listen to President Roosevelt's fireside chat last weekend?" Quinn asked, beginning to feel desperate.
"Excellent one," Benjamin said admiringly, and the two launched into a pleasant conversation about politics, discovering a basic similarity of beliefs, but with enough differences for stimulating ripostes.
"Your place is lovely," Benjamin said, looking around Quinn's apartment.
Quinn was pleased, having endeavored to create a homely but inspirational environment in his apartment, but interior decorations were not foremost on his mind. "Not as lovely as you." He advanced toward Benjamin, who held up his hands.
"The tux is rented. I need to keep it in good order."
Catching one of Benjamin's hands, Quinn dragged him into the bedroom. "Then let's get it off you and hung up." He suited action to words, helping Benjamin undress and neatly hanging up his shirt, jacket, and slacks.
Benjamin stood before him confidently, giving no appearance of shame as Quinn viewed him in his tee-shirt and underwear. "Someone needs to catch up."
"Agreed." Quinn rapidly undressed, hanging up his own shirt and suit, but continuing on, stripping off his undergarments until he stood nude in front of Benjamin, letting him look his fill. Like Benjamin and his models, Quinn felt only confidence in his body.
Benjamin started to sink to his knees, but Quinn caught him by the elbows, pulling him up. "A kiss first."
He had been right about Benjamin and the sweetness of the young man's mouth, as he sank into Quinn's embrace, surrendering his lips to Quinn's searching kiss. Quinn slid his hands down Benjamin's back, his hands burrowing into Benjamin's underwear, cupping his buttocks, which were rounded and firm. Benjamin moaned into Quinn's mouth, before breaking away.
"Please, I'm dying."
"What do you need? It's yours."
This time Quinn didn't stop Benjamin from dropping to his knees, where he wrapped one hand around the base of Quinn's cock, cradling his balls with the other. "I knew you would be enormous."
"I'm only proportional," Quinn protested, both amused and flattered.
"But such proportions," Benjamin muttered, before his tongue flashed out, licking over the head of Quinn's cock, catching the drop of fluid already forming. Quinn watched Benjamin taste him, swirl his tongue on the head, and finally suck the tip into his mouth. The hand around the base of Quinn's cock stroked the length firmly, while his other played with his balls, squeezing them, but gently. Benjamin's head bobbed back and forth as he took Quinn's cock deeper into his mouth.
Releasing Quinn's cock from his mouth, but keeping his hands on it, Benjamin expressed disappointment. "I'll never be able to take all of it. You're too long, too wide."
"You can," Quinn said confidently. He stroked one hand from Benjamin's chin down his throat, feeling the faint stubble give way to smooth skin. "It takes practice, but you can relax your throat muscles enough."
"Do you know that because someone else has?" Benjamin's eyes flashed as he looked up at Quinn. "No, don't answer that. Can you teach me?"
"I can, and I will."
"I promise to be a diligent student."
"But today I don't have that much patience." He leaned over to catch Benjamin's elbows in his hands, lifting him bodily. Benjamin gave a startled laugh, but released his grip on Quinn's cock and let himself be put on his feet. Quinn didn't hesitate, pulling Benjamin's tee-shirt over his head and shoving his underwear down. Benjamin kicked them away.
"You are more than proportional," Quinn said, stroking Benjamin's cock, which was definitely a larger size than his height might indicate.
"Thank you, but I think you were impatient to advance to what you described in the café?"
"I am," Quinn admitted, pushing at Benjamin until he sprawled on the bed. He was as gorgeous as Quinn anticipated - beautiful skin, only a smattering of hair on his chest, trailing down to a more generous amount at his groin. Benjamin spread his legs, inviting Quinn to take his place between them.
Grateful that he kept the oil in his nightstand, Quinn lay by Benjamin's side. He wanted everything - to kiss his nipples, to bite at his firm biceps, to suck his cock, even to nibble on his toes, but both of them were ready to skip to Quinn's possession of Benjamin. More exploration could be done later.
Anointing several fingers, Quinn introduced one to the opening between Benjamin's ass cheeks. The other man gave a startled gasp, before squirming. "You have done this before?" Quinn asked, worried.
"Yes, but not often." He gave an admiring look at Quinn's cock. "And never with such a magnificent specimen."
"I'll be gentle," Quinn promised.
"As long as you're thorough. And deep."
Quinn groaned at Benjamin's eagerness. He didn't know if he would ever have enough of him. "Lie still. Let me prepare you."
"I'm not sure 'still' is possible," Benjamin said, squirming again on Quinn's finger. "I may be a diligent student but not always an obedient one."
"I will tame you," Quinn said, adding another finger, stretching them wide.
Benjamin gave a half-gurgle of laughter. "You can try."
With ease, Quinn found Benjamin's mysterious spot, rubbing it deliberately, watching as the pleasure was reflected in Benjamin's entire body, hips squirming, nipples peaked, eyes wide, his breath uneven. "I will succeed," he swore, noting with pleasure that he seemed to have silenced Benjamin, because there was no response beyond the physical. He added a third finger, and spent plenty of time, making sure that Benjamin's opening was well-stretched, though his own cock ached at the delay.
Satisfied that Benjamin was prepared, Quinn slid his oily hand over his own cock, before he gripped Benjamin's wrists, pinning him down. He breeched him slowly, watching Benjamin's reactions, the pleasure-dazed eyes, the open, panting mouth, until he felt himself fully encased in perfection.
Benjamin's legs wrapped around Quinn's hips, his ankles digging into Quinn's upper thighs. With a look of defiance, Benjamin began lifting his hips up and down, fucking himself on Quinn's cock.
"Oh, no, you do not." Quinn pressed harder, his hands tight on Benjamin's wrists, his chest pressing Benjamin into the bed, as he took control, thrusting his hips hard, his cock slamming into Benjamin's tight hole. Benjamin stopped fighting, his body relaxing, absorbing Quinn's power and presence.
With that acknowledgement, Quinn slowed, taking his time, though he both wanted to come immediately and to have this pleasure last forever. He forced himself to hold off until Benjamin came with a groan, his tightness squeezing Quinn's cock, his essence shooting between their bodies. Quinn gave another few strokes, making the point that he was in control, then let himself go, feeling more ecstasy than he had ever known at spilling himself deep within Benjamin.
"You have not only mastered me, you've killed me," Benjamin said, his voice a sleepy purr.
"You can't be dead, you still have much to learn from me."
Still sounding drowsy, Ben agreed. "Yes, so many things I intend to learn. Will learn."
Quinn kissed his lips, his nose, his eyelids. "You've been awake all night. Take a nap."
"You'll be here when I wake?"
"I will," he promised. Benjamin's eyes slowly drifted shut, his breathing evening out. Quinn took a good, long look at Benjamin's body, his own essence splattered on his stomach. Soon, he would take time to put more marks on him, bites and kisses and stubble burn.
But for now, a nap sounded like a very good idea. Quinn pulled Benjamin into his arms, pleased as the young man instinctively cuddled close, and let himself fall asleep.
~ the end ~