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Role Play

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Role Play by Alison

Role Play by Alison
Feedback: Yes please, to
Status: Slash, Langly/Byers
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc
Archive: Lone Slasher, Basement, Gossamer, Ephemeral
Category: PWP
Summary: Langly and Byers try some role play. Langly's leather jacket makes another appearance.


It was a slow quiet evening in the Private Dancer, a recently opened gay bar in downtown Washington. It had only been open a few weeks, but had already established a reputation for being slightly more select and quiet than some of the rest. There was as yet only a sprinkling of customers at the secluded private booths ranged around the walls in such a way as to give all the customers a good look at anyone walking in the door. The barman had enough time to spare to take a good look himself, too, at anyone who might walk in.

When the next customer paused in the doorway, the barman's eyes widened in appreciation, and most heads turned in the direction of the door. Turned and stayed in that direction, watching and waiting appraisingly.

Not at first sight the usual type of customer. They didn't get that many in business suits; but this figure exuded class in his impeccably cut suit and conservative tie as he paused in the doorway. Tall and slim, mid thirties -but there was still something slightly hesitant in his bearing in the way he stood there while his eyes scanned the room, searching; almost as if he felt himself out of place. There was something wary and defensive behind the eyes that was more than intriguing to several of the bar's occupants.

There was an almost inaudible, anticipatory intake of breath from more than one corner of the room when the newcomer came to a decision and walked towards the bar. More than one set of eyes followed his walk, rangy and graceful, like some kind of wild animal that is aware it might be walking into a trap.

He slid on to a bar stool within sight line of the door, nodding briefly at the barman as he ordered a beer. In return he got a smile that was a little too wide, a glance held a little too long. He flushed and looked away. The barman snickered to himself, his first impressions confirmed. You don't belong here, dude, do you? Why are you here? Let's find out.

"Waiting for anyone?"

A brief non-committal shrug. "Maybe." The suited man took a long swallow of his beer and set it down on the bar top, glancing nervously around the room, then back to the door. "Is it always this quiet in here?"

Whatever the barman was going to reply was cut off by another voice.

"Hey, don't I know you?"

He turned, and his jaw dropped. The suited man's sharp intake of breath was distinctly audible as he stared, unable to drag his eyes away. Tall, lean, the newcomer was dressed entirely in black biker's gear. Black leather jacket, matching tight leather pants, only a white tee shirt showing at his neck. He stalked into the bar as if it belonged to him, his gaze sweeping appraisingly around the walls.

He moved across to the bar, aware of the effect his entrance had made, and slid on to a bar stool next to the suited man. Looked him up and down with clear blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight through his clothing to the body below. Suddenly the collar of his shirt seemed too tight, the tie too constricting. The room suddenly seemed much too hot. Omigod, he's beautiful. That jacket, he looks like he was born to wear it. Those pants, you can see . . . oh god, please don't let me blush. Not here, not now. He looked up. The cool, contemptuous blue eyes met his own; eyes that seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

"Nice suit."

Then he did blush. "Er . . . thanks." God, did I really say *that*!

"Armani, isn't it?"

"Um . . . yeah . . ."

"What's the matter? Don't you think I can know what an Armani looks like?" He heard the creak and slither of the leather as the man leaned closer. "Let me tell you, suitboy, I've seen plenty of guys in Armani . . . and out of them, know what I mean?"

"No, sorry, I didn't mean anything! Uh, I was just thinking, your gear looks better. I mean, I guess a suit is kinda out of place here. I . . shit, . . . look, let me buy you a beer, huh?"

The biker's eyes seemed to bore right through him for a second; then he gave a snort of laughter. "Why not. Okay, suitboy." He turned his head towards the barman, who had never taken his eyes off him and was there in a split second. "Kirin." He turned back to the man in the suit. "Ever tried it?"

"Er, no . . . that's the Japanese beer, isn't it?"

"Yeah. You should try it." He caught the barman's eye again, effortlessly. "Make that two."

He pushed the second beer along the bar and the suited man took a cautious swallow, raising his eyebrows in pleased surprise.

The stranger grinned and took a swallow of his own beer, set it down on the bar top and wiped the froth off his mouth with the back of his hand, trailing one finger slowly across his lower lip, meeting the eyes of the other man insolently. "D'ya like it?"

"Uh. . . like what?"

Another provocative grin, showing even, white teeth. "The beer . . . what else?"

He cleared his throat, just knowing his voice was going to come out hoarse. "Got any other suggestions?"

The stranger met his eyes expressionlessly, then looked him up and down again, ostentatiously. Down and further down, noting the slim body in the well-cut suit and the evidence of growing arousal pressing against the suit pants. He looked up again, a slight smirk on his lips. He shifted position on the bar stool slightly, obviously well aware that his own pants left nothing to the imagination. The suited man was staring too, unable to drag his eyes away from the leather-covered groin. He jumped in surprise when the stranger spoke again.

"You look like a guy who'd appreciate the taste of something different."

He looked up, flushing deeper now, unconsciously running a finger round his collar as if it was too tight. "Um . . . sure, but -"

"So why don't we go somewhere quieter."

"Yeah, but . . ."

"You got a car?"

"Sure, down the street a ways."

"Good. Let's go."

He slid off the bar stool and stood face to face with the stranger, noting that they were almost the same height. Those blue eyes were almost on a level with his own. Pale skin, long lashes . . . a wide firm mouth. Oh god, I'd like to feel that mouth around my cock, sucking, licking, oh man, you'd be good at that, I can tell . . . he shuddered in anticipation.

Behind them the barman looked after their retreating figures with envy and admiration, shaking his head. He couldn't remember when he'd seen such a fast pickup.

* * * * * * * * *

He followed the black-clad figure out of the door, paying close attention to the way the smooth leather clung to the slim muscular thighs and outlined the curves of his ass. He was pretty sure the guy wasn't wearing anything underneath those pants. He found his breath was beginning to come short, a fluttering sensation starting in his belly and heat pouring into his groin, making his cock twitch. The little tease . . . he had pushed his hands into his pockets, straining the leather across his ass even more . . . just you wait till I get you in the car, babe, I'll wipe that cocky grin off your face. Peel that leather off you, split that sweet ass and make you scream .. .

The guy paused on the sidewalk outside, cocking his head to one side with a slight smirk on his face. "Lead on."

"This way." And he led off towards the alleyway where he had parked the car. Conscious all the way of the other man half a pace behind him, hearing the sound of his footsteps, his breathing and the squeak of leather rubbing against leather. The stranger didn't utter a word.

When they reached the car he turned and faced the stranger, just a dark shape whose face was barely visible in the shadows. He unlocked the car. "Here? Or do you want to find somewhere quieter?"

His only answer was a gleam of white teeth in the darkness, a shimmer of light reflected off leather, before he was pushed abruptly back against the side of the car. His breath was jolted out of him by the weight of another body against him, pressing him back; the contrast of a warm hard body pressing against his front and the cold metal of the car against his back. His yelp of surprise was swallowed, muffled by the other man's mouth on his. Next second a hot tongue was in his mouth, invading, unstoppable. He gasped for breath and the other man pushed further in, and he let his head fall back, submitting.

He clawed briefly at the body pinning him firmly in place, his hands sliding over smooth slick leather, grabbing and for the first time feeling hard muscle beneath. Hard . . .

Abruptly he was released and he could breathe again, trembling and gasping for breath. He was still held firmly, pinned against the side of the car. Hands were grasping each side of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Stubble rasped down his neck as the stranger's mouth moved lower. His face felt cold with the loss of contact; the leather jacket was clammy where it pressed against his chest. All the heat in his body was rushing to his groin, where his growing hardness was pressed against its twin. The other man ground against him, rhythmically, and he groaned in delicious agony. "Please . . ."

"What do you want?"

"You. I want you."

"I thought so. You suits are all the same." Abruptly he was released and the next second he was on his knees, slammed there by the pressure of two hands on his shoulders. Face to face, or head to head, with the hard bulge he had felt before. The hands on his shoulders moved to his head, and his face was pulled forward, buried in the heat and the hardness sheathed in slick smooth leather. The guy was fucking his face, grinding his hips forward. He moaned and scrabbled frantically for the zipper, locating it and pulling downwards to free the trapped cock. It sprang free, hard and thick and strong in front of him, and he heard a gasping whine from above him somewhere as he dove forward to take the head in. His lips moved over the thick shaft, sucking steadily; the other guy groaned and pushed forward again, beginning a strong pumping rhythm in and out of his mouth, filling his throat. He slid his hands up and around the curves of the leather-clad ass, fingers digging in and kneading the firm muscles as he caught the familiar rhythm. So familiar; yet so different, enticingly, excitingly different this way . . .

Then the stranger pulled out. "Stand up" he ordered.

He stumbled to his feet, knees trembling.

"Turn round."

"But . ."

"You do what *I* say, okay? Get that fancy suit off." Strong hands turned him, pushing him against the car again and tugging at the shoulders of his jacket, pulling it off down his arms and tossing it on the roof of the car. A hand slid up his belly under his shirt, fingernails scraping over the sensitive skin and he dragged in a breath only to let it out in an agonized moan. Then the fingers latched on to his nipples, pinching hard and rhythmically and he nearly screamed; it was like an electric shock shooting straight to his groin.

He was slammed against the car again as the biker lunged against his ass, and his erection was squeezed against the cold metal of the car. He moaned again. "Please . . ."

"What?" the other man's breath was hot in his ear; then the tongue slithered round the back of his ear and a hot mouth began to chew on the sensitive lobe. He shuddered violently; the sensation was almost unbearable. He had ceased to care if anyone saw them, all his awareness was concentrated in his groin, in his cock, in his ass. Please, I want you in me, now, now . . .

"Whaddya want?" the harsh voice demanded again before teeth scraped down the side of his neck to his shoulder where they found the sensitive spot at the base of his neck and bit down harder, hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me, suitboy."

He was barely coherent now and had to make three attempts to beg. "You. Want you. In me. God . . . please . . ."

Abruptly he was freed as the other man stepped back a little. Then hands slid round his waist, deftly unbuckling his belt and one hand slid into his boxers while the other pulled his pants down. The cool night air raised goosebumps on his exposed flesh and he trembled with cold and excitement and fear. God, suppose someone sees us . . .

Then all these considerations were driven from his mind when the other man slid his fingers round his cock, squeezing expertly, gently at first, then suddenly harder. He yelped in surprise and fought for breath as the hand began to pump his cock. Then the other hand was at his mouth, fingers pushing in while the harsh voice commanded "suck".

He obeyed eagerly, swirling his tongue round the two long fingers, tasting the saltiness of sweat, smelling the tang of the leather sleeve pressed against his cheek, feeling the saliva rush into his mouth as he sucked greedily, desperate for what was surely coming next. He spread his legs wider, pushing his ass back invitingly and was rewarded with a grunting gasp from behind him. Next instant the fingers were gone, leaving him open mouthed and gasping with a trail of spittle dribbling down his chin.

The next touch on his ass, straight to the most sensitive rim of his opening, made him cry out with excitement. "Yeah . . " One finger rubbed briefly back and forward over his entrance then, slick and wet, slid unerringly inside. It was warm and wet, long and clever and went straight to his most sensitive spot, jabbing his prostate and he keened in unbearable pleasure. Again and again, then vanishing just as suddenly, but before he could register that it was replaced with something much, much better. The other man's cockhead slid in past the ring of muscle at his entrance, paused and drove home inside him. He was filled, filled unbearably, the pressure throbbing through his belly, waves of pleasure coursing out from there throughout his whole body. He put his forehead down on the roof of the car and groaned deep in his throat.

He could feel the biker's breath on the back of his neck, the rasp of the jacket zipper against his back. The other man began to fuck him, long slow deliberate strokes at first, then building to a fierce rhythm. He hardly noticed that the other man's hand had left his cock and he was being gripped by both wrists holding him firmly in position against the car. He turned his head and his mouth met the leather sleeve; he bit down on it, inhaling the smell of it mixed with the smell of sweat and sex. His vision was beginning to get foggy at the edges; he could feel his breath getting ragged, hear himself making a series of high moaning noises. Nothing else mattered except the incredible sensation of the stranger's cock pounding into him hard. Soon . . . soon, please, don't stop, don't stop . . .

When his orgasm came it was with a suddenness that was almost frightening, exploding over him with shocking intensity. He felt himself let go with a final loud animal howl that almost hurt his throat. He spurted out again and again, streaking the side of the car with the evidence of his orgasm. Behind him the stranger was panting like a dog, thrusting deep inside him, pushing up into him in hard fierce jabs till he came hard and long.

In a daze he felt the stranger pull out and release him. His legs buckled and he slid to the ground, ending up on his knees by the side of the car. He weakly pulled his pants back up and stiffly turned so he was sitting with his back leaning against the side of the car. God, he was stiff . . and sore too. But wow . . . He looked sideways at the stranger, who like him was sitting on the ground, leaning sideways against the car, head down and still breathing heavily. He reached out a hand and squeezed one leather-clad thigh. "Okay?"

The other man raised his head and smiled affectionately, slid over and kissed him gently on the lips, hand stroking through his hair. "Yeah. Only. . . Langly, next time I'm wearing the suit."



"Many small people who in many small places do many small things can alter the face of the world"

Graffiti on the Berlin Wall

Archived: September 15, 2001